#so maybe I’ll just get messed up and stay in my room | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nadvs · 8 months ago

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home before dark (part four)

pairing rafe cameron x kook! female reader

rating mature 18+

summary as children, you and rafe were best friends, but then tragedy suddenly struck his family and he shut everybody out. years later, you need his help when a pushy ex-boyfriend won’t leave you alone. rafe is perfect for the job because everybody’s afraid of him. except for you.

content warnings stalker ex, violence, substance abuse, death and mourning of parent

» masterlist

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Rafe is being selfish again. When he offered to sleep in your room, it was so you’d feel safe. But that wasn’t entirely why he did it.

He’d be a liar if he said it wasn’t for him, too. Something about being around you gives him a sense of quiet when he’s so used to noise.

It’s disorienting feeling a pull to someone he used to avoid, but life stopped making sense to him a long time ago, so why try to find the logic?

Rafe collects the blanket and pillow from the guest bed he slept on last night, figuring he’ll just sleep on your floor.

The way he touched you earlier tonight is playing like a song in his head. When did he get so soft? He’s hardly ever sober for this long. It must be messing with him. It was just a kiss on your cheek, but his heart pounds when he thinks about it.

Then you noticed his gun and looked at him with such disgust that he knows you’d be horrified to learn what his mind sounds like these days. To learn how much anger he has burning through his veins. You’d run in the opposite direction.

You told him you’ve never said anything bad about him. He’d like to keep it that way. So he’ll take all this fake stuff and enjoy it from a distance, far enough removed from you to avoid taking any risks.

You’ve been tucked into bed for a few minutes when Rafe comes through your open door, darkness filling every corner of the room.

After you accepted his offer downstairs, you parted tensely, as if either of you had said one wrong word, the agreement to sleep in your room together would lose all legitimacy.

Rafe’s tall figure quietly makes a bed on the floor a few feet away. He lets out a low grunt when he lies down, turned away from you.

You stare at his back, thinking about how he said whatever you did wrong wasn’t on purpose. You should probably let it go. He’ll never talk about it. But the curiosity is relentless.

After a few minutes of watching Rafe turn from his back to his side over and over, you break the silence.

“Is your brain doing it again?” you ask. Your voice makes the knot in his chest loosen.

“What?” he rasps.

“Is it not turning off?”

He doesn’t respond. You talked about this hours ago at the party, but it stayed with you. He’s not used to this much attention on him. He usually has to fight for it.

“If it isn’t, maybe I could bore you to sleep,” you offer.

“I bet you could.” A second later, Rafe feels a pillow you threw from your bed hit his chest and roll beside him. He smirks in the dark.

You clarify, “I meant I could distract you.”

“For real this time? I don’t need another interrogation.” You love that you can hear a smile in his voice and hate that you can’t see it. Little by little, he’s acting like your friend again.

“Since when is asking one question an interrogation?” Last night, all you did was ask why he was helping you.

“See?”

“Oh, my God,” you sigh with a laugh. “Okay, let me think… I can tell you about the errands I ran today?”

“I’ll be out cold in a minute.” You laugh again and Rafe smiles up at the ceiling. Making you feel safe feels good. Making you laugh like that feels even better.

“Rude,” you say. “Pass me that pillow so I can throw it at you again.”

In the dark, you watch him reach for the pillow on the floor and tuck it under his arm. You breathe out a chuckle.

You pull your duvet up to your chin, unable to believe that the same Rafe who ignored your every attempt to talk, who wouldn’t even hold eye contact with you, is on the floor of your room, joking around with you.

You start to ramble about the shopping you did after he left your house this morning, getting into every menial detail, down to the long line at the gas station.

At first, Rafe can’t imagine falling asleep to this. Your voice humming through the dark is soothing and even though you’re trying to make your story boring, he’s interested.

But eventually, his eyelids get heavier. You’re dozing off, too, but it’s not until you hear his breaths grow deeper that you allow yourself to succumb to the fatigue.

Your senses are blurred and bleeding into each other like paint on a messy canvas, and while you’re confused, you know one thing for sure: you’re terrified.

Ty’s behind the wheel and the car is barreling down the busy freeway at a vicious speed. It’s storming and he’s laughing and you can’t scream. You can’t even speak.

Anne’s car is coming right for yours and Ty won’t slow down no matter how hard you try to gain control of the wheel and you brace for impact, but suddenly you’re in your fifth grade class and you’re crying and everyone is staring at you.

You wake up to big hands holding your shoulders, gently shaking you. A low and soft voice whispers your name, coaxing you to wake up.

Your eyes open to see Rafe standing over you in the dark and you realize your cheeks are wet with tears. Consciousness slowly wraps around you. It was a nightmare.

Your adrenaline pushes you to sit up, your chest heaving. His hands drop off of you, but he’s still standing and leaning over your bed, inches away.

“Bad dream?” he asks over the sound of your shallow breaths. Your whimpers are what woke him up. Hearing you crying in your sleep like that was painful.

You rub both eyes with your knuckles and try to catch up with reality.

“I was in the car with Ty and he was driving too fast and then I saw your mom-” You immediately shut up. In your fog, you forgot what you’re allowed to say and what you’re not, and by the way Rafe stands straight, you know you messed up.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, reaching for his hand. His fingers are still and don’t curl around yours. The fact that you pull him towards you shows just how disoriented you are. “Can you sleep up here?”

“What?”

“Can you sleep up here?” you mumble dazedly. Rafe’s already sinking onto the mattress before you finish asking your repeated question.

You turn to face him when he lies down. You curl into a ball, your hand still gripping his as you try to breathe slower. You remember your other pillow is on the floor and you lift your head to shift your pillow to the middle so that he can rest his head on it, too.

Rafe stares ahead, listening to your fast breathing and his loud heartbeat. He’s struck that even when you’re in a half-asleep trance, your instinct is to make sure he’s comfortable.

And to ask him to lie next to you. To be close when there’s nobody around to prove your pretend relationship to. You actually find comfort in him. He thought he was starting to find it in you, too, but then you mentioned her.

You shudder when Rafe’s hand twists out from yours, losing the anchor reminding you that none of it was real. But then you realize he did it to put his palm on your cheek.

“You’re good,” he reassures you. He frowns when he feels a tear on your skin. “It’s alright.”

You nod under his touch, your eyes shut, swallowing hard and cupping his wrist. He’s still trembling from withdrawal.

The dream took you to when you were ten and Rafe’s desk was empty and your teacher told the class he lost his mom a couple of nights ago, so you’d spend the period making sympathy cards for him.

It’s important we show him he’s not alone, she said and you were so upset that you didn’t know how to do that when you were supposed to be best friends. You stared at a blank piece of paper for long enough that your teacher told you that you could work on something else.

You did eventually make him a card. And you visited. And you called. And you tried talking to him over and over.

But nothing you did or said was ever good enough. He shut everybody out and you were no exception. Maybe someone else would be mad at him for it, but you couldn’t ever find it in your heart to be. You still can’t.

“I’m sorry,” you say into the dark, wishing he knew just how heavy the pain you carry for him is. You feel frantic now, the emotions washing over you with no mercy, as if you just learned she died all over again. “I’m sorry for everything. You were just a kid-”

“Don’t,” Rafe interrupts. “Just sleep.”

You sniffle and he swears he can feel his heart crack but he can’t indulge you. He can’t open the wound he pretends isn’t still bleeding. He can’t talk about how his life crumbled into ruins and he’s still sitting in the rubble.

He lost his mother, his security, and eventually his mind, and there’s no point in talking about what he can never get back.

Rafe’s hand slips off of your cheek but your fingers remain wrapped around his wrist. He lets you keep holding onto him as you fall back asleep.

The sunlight is coming through slitted blinds when Rafe’s eyes open. He couldn’t see your room last night, but now that he can study the space that is so you, his mind starts racing.

You’re asleep next to him, head tilted towards him on the pillow you’re sharing. He gazes over your pretty features, the slope of your nose, the shape of your lips.

How could someone so sweet hurt him so fucking bad? Last night was brutal. You mentioning his mom without any warning was like a sharp jolt of electricity. He was an idiot to think he could find comfort in you.

You’ll always remind him of it. Of the helplessness and the horror and the agony. He can’t handle it. Even if you never talk about it again, your presence alone is a reminder.

You shuffle awake and reach out for him, but his side of the bed is cold. He’s not on the floor, either. You look out the window to see his motorcycle is still where he parked it last night.

When you come down to the front room, Rafe is in the same chair he sat in the night of the storm, grudgingly playing with his ring, staring ahead with a hard frown.

He sees you and immediately stands up, eyes darting away from you like the last few days didn’t happen at all. All his coldness is back.

“Finally,” he grunts. You watch him stalk past you with screwed up lips. “Lock the door behind me.”

You realize he was waiting for you to wake up. And now he’s acting like you’re contagious with something he’d rather die than catch, rushing out of your home, triggering the alarm when he opens the front door.

You follow him to punch the code into the security system and then quickly open the door he closed, watching him stride down the steps towards his bike.

You’re in a haze. Last night, he held you so gently and you fell asleep inches away from each other. This morning, he can’t get away fast enough.

It’s what you said. You mentioned his mom. You knew it was out of bounds, but you were so frightened and disoriented and spoke without thinking.

“Wait,” you say to his back. But Rafe continues on his way, making you feel just like you did in your nightmare. You’re speaking but it’s like nothing is coming out.

“Please don’t go back to ignoring me,” you call louder, a shake in your voice. This makes him pause. You swing the door shut behind you and close the distance, stepping out into the brisk morning air.

You face him and he looks absolutely wrecked. Guilt digs its sharp claws into your heart.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him. “I was out of it.”

Rafe stares down at the paved ground, his jaw tightening.

“You’re always gonna remind me,” he mutters.

His sentence is simple, but it carries the weight of your broken friendship. It hits you that you could never mention the past again, not a single memory or anything about his loss, and it still wouldn’t be enough. You’re a constant reminder.

“That’s why you never wanted anything to do with me?” you say. Rafe looks at you again. Your eyes have lost all their light.

It’s just a part of the reason the bridge between you can’t ever be rebuilt, but talking about it with you is torture, so he’ll let you believe that that’s all there is to it.

“You can go,” you say quietly, stepping back. If being with you just brings back painful memories to him, you won’t subject him to it any longer.

Every muscle in Rafe’s body aches as he drives home. His head is hammering with pain and his bones weigh a million pounds and he’d kill for a hit of anything right now. He needs the escape.

Just when he thought he found a place to slow down, you reminded him of why he’s always running. As soon as he’s sure your ex is done bothering you, he’s out.

As you watch Rafe drive away, the gate opens when the sensor detects a vehicle leaving the property, and you notice the mailbox is open.

You pick up the mail to see an envelope with your name handwritten on it. Panicked, you rush back inside, locking the door. You know it’s Ty, finding yet another way to contact you.

You would’ve noticed the mailbox was open when you got home with Rafe last night. He did this overnight or early this morning.

When you finally find the courage to read his letter, dread forces its way into your body so roughly that you’re not sure you’ll ever feel happy again.

You feel some relief when Sarah texts in the group chat a couple of hours later asking if anyone wants to go shopping. It’s the distraction you need.

It’s late afternoon when you meet her and your mutual friend Lia at the mall, trying to get your mind off of Rafe’s coldness and Ty’s persistence and your own pain.

Afterwards, Sarah invites you both to her house and soon, the three of you are sitting in her room, chatting and listening to music.

The door is open and when a figure passes by, you look up to see Rafe. He glances at you for a second, then goes right back to ignoring you, continuing on his way without another second of hesitation.

When he got home, he took a couple of shots before he fell asleep in his bed. He woke up still partly buzzed and he can’t handle seeing or talking to you right now.

Sarah shakes her head in the corner of your eye. She noticed him, too.

“Jesus, Rafe, that’s how you treat your girlfriend?” she half-shouts. Two pairs of eyes land on you as your friends await your reaction.

“We’re in a fight,” you say, anxious that the topic has come up and that you’ll have to lie your way through it.

“Already? Didn’t you just start dating?” Lia says.

“Yeah, it’s sad,” you say with a downcast laugh.

Rafe chews on his thumbnail as he kneels against the hallway wall. He should’ve kept walking, but he’s secretly hanging onto your every word.

“I still can’t believe you guys are together,” she says. “I didn’t even know you liked him.”

“I did,” Sarah laughs. You look at her with wide eyes. “Come on, you never let anyone say anything bad about him.”

“Why do you?” Your eyes jump to Lia.

“Why do I what?” you say, trying to play it off.

“Like him,” Lia replies.

You figure while all of this is a sham, you can at least answer this question with full honesty.

“He takes care of me,” you say. You think about how you laughed together in your bedroom last night. “And I have fun with him.”

Regret gnaws at Rafe. Even though you’re upset with him, you still speak of him kindly. His growing feelings for you would be so much easier to get rid of if you were like everybody else, writing him off, calling him psycho.

“Yeah, you look like you’re having a lot of fun,” Lia replies with a playful nudge, trying to bring some humor to the room. “Seriously, are you okay? You seem off.”

You believe it. Your mind doesn’t feel any clearer since last night’s nightmare.

“I��m really freaked out because of Ty,” you admit.

“It’s crazy that he’s still bothering you,” Sarah says.

“It is. He won’t stop. I saw footprints outside my front door last night and I think they were his. That would mean he found a way around the gate,” you tell them. “And then there was a letter from him in my mailbox this morning. It was so creepy.”

Rafe’s body stiffens.

“God, that’s like stalker level,” Lia says. “What’d it say?”

The sound of Rafe saying your name interrupts you. You look up to see him standing in the doorway, staring at you. He cocks his head, silently beckoning you to come out.

When you face him in the corner of the hallway, far from Sarah’s room, you cross your arms and let him start the conversation.

“That asshole left you a letter?” Rafe mutters quietly. “Why didn’t you call me?”

Embarrassment turns in your stomach. He was eavesdropping.

“You wouldn’t have answered,” you reply.

“Yeah, I would’ve,” he says sternly. “What’d he write?”

You bite your bottom lip in anguish, choking back your tears.

You’re clearly shaken up. Rafe’s protective instinct overpowers him. He grasps your arm, squeezing gently, giving into his every impulse around you like he always does. You breathe slowly, eyes darting away.

“What did he write?” he repeats. His hand is so warm, a hard contrast from how cold you know he can be.

Your mind turns over the scribbled words on the crumpled page Ty left for you. It was mainly nonsensical, but some phrases stuck with you like a dagger to your heart.

“That he and I are meant to be,” you recall. “And that I know deep down we’re supposed to be together and he’ll keep waiting until I realize it.”

“What a fucking creep,” Rafe snarls, dropping his hand off of you. He’s not going to miss the next opportunity to beat the hell out of the guy and get him away for you for good.

The intensity of your nightmare and the shock from your argument still hurts, and as you look at Rafe, his hair falling over his forehead, his skin pale and his lips pursed in anger, you don’t have it in you to ask him to continue doing this for you.

“You don’t have to do this anymore,” you say. “I’ll stay with friends until my parents get back.”

“What?” Rafe’s pulse quickens. This thing with you isn’t real, he knows that, but it feels like you’re breaking up with him.

“We’re just hurting each other,” you tell him.

“No,” he says. “No. I’m keeping you safe. I’m taking care of you.”

He can’t possibly be hurting you. He can’t be fucking up yet another thing in his life.

“Rafe,” you exhale, defeated. “This whole thing was a bad idea. I’m just a reminder to you. And you’re…”

“I’m what?” he asks.

“You’re always going to keep me at a distance,” you say.

You hang on to what feels like your last shred of hope. You wait, hoping he’ll deny it, hoping he’ll finally meet you in the middle. You thought you had infinite faith that he’d let you in again. But after this morning, you’ve reached the end.

“Listen, I’m…” Rafe begins. Being with you hurts sometimes, but he can’t allow you to be in any danger. “I’m not letting you deal with him on your own.”

“I won’t be on my own,” you respond. He scoffs. Your friends couldn’t scare him off like he can.

“I can’t risk anything happening to you,” he says quickly. “Just… we’ll keep doing this until he finally gets it, alright?”

You’ve been barely grasping onto hope and his words are enough to keep you from letting go. That’s when you accept the fact that you’re doomed. You’ll never give up on him.

“Alright,” you say. Until he finally gets it. Your time with Rafe is limited. But nonetheless, it’s time.

He breathes out in relief. The possibility of disappointing you is more painful than he imagined. He can’t mess this up.

You leave him standing in the hallway, knowing you’ll have to walk away for good when all of this is over. You wonder if you’ll be able to do it without it breaking your heart.

Later in the evening, Sarah invites a few more friends over, who then invite their friends, and soon, the backyard of the Cameron estate is buzzing with conversation and laughter, the beach a glittering backdrop to the spontaneous party. You’re not surprised the space filled up so fast. This is all Kooks do these long summer days.

You find relief in the fact that Ty probably wouldn’t come. Not to Rafe’s house. You stand by your group of friends under the setting sun, the crowd growing around you.

When you spot one of Ty’s friends, your stomach sinks. If he’s here, maybe your ex is, too. It’s best to be cautious.

You search the crowd for Rafe. You noticed him a little while back, drinking with his friends, but he’s nowhere to be found now.

When you break from your group to ask Rafe’s friends where he went, they only offer you shrugs.

You slip into the quiet house, your heart starting to pound at the possibility of Ty finding you and Rafe not being around.

You find Rafe’s name in your phone and dash up the grand stairs, your phone to your ear as you decide to hide in Sarah’s room until you’re sure you’re safe.

It rings once before he answers.

“You okay?” he says.

“Where are you?”

“I’m - uh…” Rafe starts to clean away the lines of coke he made on his nightstand. He never hid it before, but with you around, he’s ashamed of his drug use now. That he needs it. That he couldn’t stay away. He finished his first line before you called. “I’m in my room.”

“I’ll be right there,” you say.

He panics, spilling the powder in his rush, wondering how many seconds he has left before you catch him mid-relapse.

The door opens and he catches your eyes darting to the hardwood floor, covered with coke he didn’t clean up on time.

Rafe’s at the edge of his bed, glaring up at you.

The last time you were in this room, he was just an innocent kid, and now he’s hunched over and drugged up and living through grief you’re not sure he’ll ever be able to bear.

He tries to shove past the shame, focusing on what he’s supposed to be focusing on.

“Is he here?” Rafe asks, standing up, filled with a rush of energy from the drugs.

He approaches you, his pupils blown, rubbing his nose. You stare up at him with concern. He’s so obviously trying to hide the fact that he just used.

“I don’t know,” you say. “I saw his friend and I thought I should find you in case he came.”

“Shit,” he mumbles, erratically shaking his head. “I shouldn’t have left you alone out there.”

“It’s okay-”

“It’s not,” Rafe says, his agitation growing. He was fighting the urge to use as long as he could. Then he told himself he’d just do a couple of lines and go back downstairs, but something could have happened to you in those few minutes. “It’s not okay. I fucked up. All I do is fuck up.”

You watch him pace back towards his bed, raking his hand through his hair. He’s nearly hysterical.

“That’s not true,” you say. Is that really what he thinks of himself?

“You don’t…” Rafe lets out a defeated huff as he sits on his bed, his head in his hands. “You don’t know me.”

It’s a painful reminder. But he’s right.

He stands up again, his breaths heavy. He needs to get this anxiety and anger and fear out the best way he knows how. With a fight.

“He better not be here,” he mutters.

Rafe stalks past you quickly and you follow him as he rushes down the stairs.

He darts towards the crowd scattered across the backyard. You trail him as he pushes through groups, his fists clenched tight.

He realizes your ex isn’t here and turns to look down at you in the middle of the crowd.

“Who’s his friend?” he asks, panting. You can tell that at this point, he just wants to hit someone. He doesn’t care who. And you’re not going to lead him to a guy who hasn’t done anything wrong.

“He has nothing to do with this,” you say over the chattering surrounding you. “Ty isn’t here, okay? That’s what matters. I’m safe. You didn’t fuck anything up.”

The worry in your eyes is almost too much for Rafe. He doesn’t get you. Whatever you see in him doesn’t exist. He feels like he needs to prove to you how wrong you are.

“I couldn’t last two nights,” he says. “I wanted to get clean and I couldn’t last two nights.”

Your face falls. The ground you’re both on feels shaky. You didn’t know he thought so low of himself.

“It’s not all or nothing,” you say. “You don’t have to get it on the first try. It’s…” You almost say an addiction, but you don’t want to insult him.

“It’s a habit and it takes time to break,” you conclude.

Rafe exhales shakily, his body jittery. He looks so upset that you couldn’t leave his side if you tried.

“I need to get away from all this noise,” you say. “Can we go down to the water?”

Rafe curtly nods. He needs to get away, too. The commotion around him is only fuelling his rage.

You stride towards the boardwalk leading to the private beach. The party wasn’t too loud for you at all, but he looked overwhelmed, so you fibbed just to get him out of the chaos.

You quietly walk towards the beach under the dark orange sky. Even with the baggage between you, it feels good to be by his side like this. You just wish it didn’t hurt him to be around you.

You ran up and down this boardwalk so many times as kids. One morning, you fell and scraped your knee and even though you were fine, Rafe put his arm around you to lean on him the whole way back up to the house so his mother could bandage you up.

Now it’s your turn to help him. However you can.

You make it to the sand. The crowd’s sound is just a dull roar behind you now that you’ve reached the beach.

You look over at Rafe to see his chest still rapidly rising and falling as he gazes out at the sea. You wonder why he was hiding it. He never shied away from snorting lines in the middle of a party before.

But by the look on his face, you can tell. He’s ashamed. His words ring in your head. All I do is fuck up.

“You can do it,” you tell him. “You can quit.”

Rafe looks at you and expels a dismissive scoff.

“Doubt it,” he murmurs.

You settle onto the sand, legs stretched out towards the water.

“Why?” you ask.

He stares out at the sea again, the shallow waves curling and tumbling into the shore beneath the setting sun. When he thinks about the hours you two spent out here, it’s like the memories aren’t even his.

He leans to sit next to you, arms resting on his propped up knees. You want so badly to talk about all the silly games and conversations you had out here years ago, but you know better now.

“Why do you care so much?” Rafe finally says, his voice low. You gaze at his profile and notice his lower lip just barely tremble. There’s a fragility in his face that you’ve never seen before.

You take a breath. How can you possibly answer without bringing up the past?

“I just do. Whether you want me to or not.” You say it with a soft chuckle in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere.

His shoulders slump. Before all this started, he was sure nobody cared about him. Not really. Not when it mattered. But you do.

You bite your lip, desperate to make him feel better.

“I’m not scared of him when you’re around,” you say. “I didn’t think that was possible. And maybe you weren’t downstairs when I was looking for you, but you answered my call right away. So, no, you don’t fuck everything up. You’re helping me when you don’t even have to.”

“I do have to,” he replies.

“Why do you think that?” You know he has a sense of loyalty towards you, a sense of owing you something, but maybe, just maybe, he’ll give you a warmer answer this time.

Rafe’s heart is racing. He’s failed so much. He failed making his own dad like him. He failed staying away from the coke. He’s not going to fail you.

“You’re the only person left who gives a shit,” he admits, unable to say about me out loud.

His words send a shiver through you. Just like in your bed last night, even though there’s nobody around to prove anything to, you touch him. You cup your hand around the inside of his elbow and squeeze.

Feeling your skin on his is a rush for him every time. The only contact he’s had with other people for years has been violent. But you’re so gentle with him and it unravels his anger.

Rafe swallows the lump in his throat. Or he tries to. But he can’t. The coke is making him manic. He took too much. He’s overwhelmed by your affection and he can’t stop what his body’s doing in response.

When you watch a tear run over the curve of his cheek, your shock and concern and sadness give you an ache so painful, your breath hitches.

Before he can try to leave, you lean on him, your temple pressed against his shoulder.

He’s humiliated. He’s actually fucking crying in front of you. So much for being the strong person keeping you safe. Behind everything he pretends to be, he’s weak.

It’s odd to cry in front of someone and not have them tell him to man up. You simply nuzzle against him and tighten your grip.

“Rafe!” someone calls in the distance. “Dude, what the hell? Why’d you leave?”

You both look back to see a group of his buddies stumbling down the boardwalk, laughing drunkenly.

“Shit,” Rafe grunts, wiping his eyes with the heels of his hands. His friends are probably looking for some blow. They can’t see him like this. He’s pissed you’re seeing him like this.

You can see how his guard is suddenly up again, how frantic he is to cover his tears.

“Should I…” you stammer, “try to get them to go?”

Rafe shrugs, at a loss, pulling the collar of his shirt up to wipe the evidence off of his face.

You watch his friends get closer and your mind rushes through how you can possibly get them to leave him alone.

It’s ridiculous, but it may be the only thing that’ll work.

“Maybe…” You take a breath to gain a bit of courage. “Maybe we just do what we did at the party last night?”

Glossy blue eyes land on you. He thinks back to the way you held each other, the way he kissed your cheek.

“I don’t know,” you say, words rushed. “Maybe if they think you’re in the middle of a hook-up, they won’t interrupt? It’s stupid, but I don’t know what else we could do.”

The invitation ignites a fire in him. Suddenly, Rafe’s hand cradles your jaw and he pulls you in. You were expecting a hug or something tame. But he kisses you.

Everything that felt heavy in you lightens. His lips are even softer than you imagined. Your mouths melt together and it feels so natural that you almost forget this is all a tactic.

Everything in and around Rafe blurs when he kisses you. He doesn’t feel weak or fucked up or like a failure. He just feels you. Kissing him back. Tasting him like he’s tasting you.

You hear Rafe’s friends’ voices grow louder and you pull back, glaring at them.

“He’s busy!” you shout. Some of them laugh, others holler, but the guy at the front of the group throws his arms up and turns around.

“Say no more,” he slurs, laughing. “But hurry it up, will you?”

You watch them stumble back towards the house and you realize you can hear your heartbeat. You wish it was from the rush of getting away with a lie. But it’s not. It’s from the lie feeling this good.

“It worked,” you say. When you focus on Rafe again, his eyes are on your lips. Then, he quickly looks away, his hand lifting off of you.

The air between you is thick and awkward and you nervously clasp your hands together.

He looks out at the water again. So do you. You’re not touching anymore. And even though he’s right next to you, he suddenly feels miles away.

(part five)

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#yall ive never had a series with parts THIS LONG i dont think #but i just cant put a pause to the story until it feels right lol 😭#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron and you #rafe cameron and reader #rafe cameron and y/n #yet it always ends in

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ikkyfics · 1 month ago

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Hello author, can i request a part two dor divination? Maybe the vision finally came true and its all just fluffy? Thank youu

Realization

James Potter x fem!reader

Summary: “Remember the Divination classes?” James asked suddenly, his voice light, almost as if talking to himself. “Yeah,” you murmured, feeling the memory bring an unexpected warmth to your chest. “She really got that one right.”

Warnings: just fluffy - after Hogwarts(married with children), a very cute little Harry

A/N: hey honey, I hope you like it

Divination - Masterlist

The night in Godric’s Hollow was calm, the silence only broken by the soft crackling of the fireplace and the slow ticking of the clock on the wall. The golden light from the flames cast delicate shadows on the walls and filled the living room with a warm, cozy glow. It was one of those rare and perfect moments where time seemed to slow down, as if the world outside didn’t even exist.

Harry was on the floor, on the plush rug that covered most of the room, surrounded by colorful magical blocks he was trying to stack. He furrowed his brow, his little face serious as his tongue slightly poked out the side of his mouth. The newly built tower collapsed once more, and he let out an annoyed grunt before suddenly getting up.

James was sprawled on the couch, his feet resting on the coffee table, watching his son with eyes full of amusement. You were sitting on the floor with Dahlia standing between your hands, propping her tiny arms on yours to keep her balance. She let out squeals of joy every time she managed to take a wobbly step or two before safely falling back onto the rug. Each of her attempts was met with laughter, claps, and kisses on the top of her little head.

“Again, little one, come on,” you encouraged softly, lifting her under her armpits and raising her into the air. Dahlia giggled in her tiny voice, her round cheeks flushed from the effort, her eyes sparkling with pure joy. She looked like a miniature version of you, the features so alike that even James had commented more than once how it threw him off a little.

At that moment, Harry, who was facing away from you, found James’s glasses abandoned on the coffee table. He picked them up carefully, turning them in his little hands as if they were a treasure. Without a second thought, he put them on, the large lenses slipping down his nose.

“Dad!” he called, stumbling over his words as he turned around with a big smile. “Look, now I’m you!”

James’s laughter echoed through the room, that loud and carefree laugh that brightened any place. He threw his head back, his hands covering his face for a moment before he stretched out his arms to Harry.

“Merlin, you look just like me!” James said, his voice full of affection. He scooped his son into his arms, messing up his already wild hair even more. “You just need to try flying on a broomstick and get into trouble, and I’ll have to retire because my legacy will be secured.”

Harry laughed, adjusting the glasses that kept slipping. “I’m going to fly better than you, dad,” he declared with all the confidence in the world, which only made James laugh more.

“Of course you will, Prongslet. That’s the spirit.”

On the other side of the room, you watched the scene with a smile so wide your cheeks ached. Dahlia, now in your lap, stretched her little hands toward her dad and brother, babbling something that sounded like a demand for attention. James looked at her and froze for a second, his smile softening as he watched the little one in your arms.

He stayed silent for too long, his gaze almost absorbed as he studied Dahlia’s face, so identical to his. You noticed the moment and furrowed your brow slightly, your voice soft as you asked,

“What’s wrong? Why the silly look?”

James turned his gaze to you, that silly grin still shining on his lips, and then looked back at his daughter, as if he were trying to memorize every detail of her.

“It’s you,” he murmured, his voice so low that it barely reached your ears. “Smaller, cuter, but… it’s you.”

Your heart warmed, melting like butter under the sun. The look of adoration he gave his daughter was the same he reserved for you, and that always affected you in an inexplicable way.

“Careful, James,” you teased, your voice sweet. “She might end up wanting to fly better than you too.”

James chuckled softly, letting Harry slide off his lap as he stood up and walked over to you. He crouched down beside you, his arms extending around both of you.

For a moment, you stayed like that: Dahlia in your lap, Harry playing again with the blocks, and James too close, his presence as comforting as a warm blanket.

“Remember the Divination classes?” he asked suddenly, his voice light, almost as if talking to himself.

You raised an eyebrow, surprised. “Those classes? James, that was years ago.”

He laughed, resting his head on your shoulder while still looking at their daughter, now yawning and rubbing her eyes. “I know. But… I remember her talking about a boy with glasses. Just like his dad.”

His gaze softened as you also looked at Harry, who was now grumbling softly because another block tower had fallen. A boy with his father’s messy hair and huge glasses. It was truly remarkable.

“Yeah,” you murmured, feeling the memory bring an unexpected warmth to your chest. “She really got that one right.”

James turned his face to look at you, his expression so tenderly affectionate that it felt like your heart might leap out of your chest.

“And I also remember saying that I would prefer… a girl,” he continued, his eyes shining softly. “Someone who looked like you.”

The mention caught you off guard, an unexpected wave of emotion rising within you. Your smile was automatic, even though a stubborn tear threatened to fall.

“And here we are,” James murmured, kissing the top of Dahlia’s head as she finally fell asleep in his arms. “Who would’ve thought, huh? It seems like the future really was written. We just took our time seeing it.”

You smiled, one of those smiles that starts slow, spreading across your whole face, as you watched Dahlia’s little closed eyes. His words brought a warm feeling to your chest, mixed with old memories that seemed to come from another life.

“We really did,” you replied, resting your head on James’ shoulder, feeling his familiar warmth. “If it depended on you, we’d have been together since first year.”

James chuckled softly, looking at you with that mischievous glint in his blue eyes.

“I wasn’t wrong, let’s be honest,” he said, with a voice as if declaring a universal truth. “I spent six years trying to prove I was irresistible, but no… you preferred to ignore me. Ignore me, can you believe that?”

You raised an eyebrow at him, amused. “I’d call it common sense.”

James put on a mock expression of outrage, placing his free hand on his chest as though he’d been struck with an arrow. “Common sense? And when did you decide to lose that?”

“Sometime around sixth year,” you replied, trying not to laugh. “When you became less… unbearable.”

“Unbearable?” He blinked a few times, indignant. “Come on, love, you make it sound like I was the worst of the Marauders. Everyone knows Sirius was the problem.”

“Oh, of course,” you agreed, the tone ironic but playful. “Because Sirius, who by the way is the godfather who spoils the godson the most, didn’t learn from you how to be impossible.”

James laughed, shaking his head. “Sirius didn’t learn anything from me. He was born that way.”

You laughed louder but quickly put your hand over your mouth when Dahlia stirred in your lap. James looked down at her lovingly and kissed her forehead again, murmuring a “shhh, it’s all right.”

At that moment, Harry appeared in the room, rubbing his eyes with the cuff of his sweater. His hair was even more tousled than usual, and his oversized glasses— which he had taken earlier— were almost falling off his nose.

“Are you talking about Uncle Sirius again?” he asked, his voice heavy with sleep.

James let out a contained laugh and reached out his free arm to pull Harry in. The boy easily settled onto his lap, snuggling between you and James.

“Of course. We always talk about Uncle Sirius, especially when he’s not around to defend himself,” James replied, smiling at Harry. “It’s the price he pays for being the most impossible of uncles.”

Harry chuckled, his eyes almost closing again with sleep. You ran your fingers softly through his hair, feeling how warm and comfortable he was.

“But he brought chocolate yesterday,” Harry mumbled, his voice muffled against James’ chest.

“And ruined your dinner,” you said, rolling your eyes with a light smile. “Not even Remus can control Sirius when he decides to spoil you two.”

James nodded, amused. “That’s because Remus is a saint. I never understood how he puts up with Sirius even now.”

Harry lifted his head again, his little face scrunched up in curiosity. “But Uncle Remus likes Uncle Sirius.”

“He likes him a lot,” James confirmed, kissing Harry’s forehead, enveloping him in a warm embrace with both arms. “Uncle Remus and Uncle Sirius were made for each other, just like your mother and I.”

Harry smiled at you, his little eyes almost closing. “So you’re the same?”

You exchanged a quick glance with James, feeling the warmth spread across your face. He gave you a sweet smile, though full of playful provocation.

“Yes, Harry. But don’t forget to tell your mum I’m more charming than Uncle Sirius, okay?”

You rolled your eyes, trying to hold back a laugh. “More charming? James, what else do you want him to say? That you’re irresistible?”

James smiled openly, turning his gaze back to you. “I’d love to hear that again.”

Harry let out a little laugh, though he was already almost asleep again. You shook your head, amused, before looking at James more softly.

“All right,” you murmured, surprising him. “You’re irresistible, James Potter.”

James’ eyes widened as if he couldn’t believe it, before breaking into a slow, passionate smile. “Did you hear that, Harry? Irresistible. Next time Uncle Sirius says something, you defend me, okay?”

“Okay, Dad,” Harry whispered, with a sleepy smile before finally closing his eyes.

The silence returned to the room, warmed by the sound of the fire crackling in the hearth and the slow breaths of Harry and Dahlia. You rested your head again on James’ shoulder, breathing in his familiar scent and the peace of the moment.

James, for his part, turned his face softly and placed a lingering kiss on the top of your head. “Thank you,” he murmured softly, almost like a secret.

You furrowed your brow slightly, your heart beating faster. “For what?”

He smiled against your hair, as though savoring the answer. “For everything. For this. For choosing us. For being… you.”

You closed your eyes, squeezing his hand tightly. “I’d choose you a thousand times.”

James smiled, that special sparkle in his eyes.

“I am irresistible, after all,” he whispered, teasing.

You laughed softly to avoid waking the children. “And unbearable,” you added, looking at him fondly.

James pulled you both closer, smiling ear to ear. “I’ll take both. As long as it comes from you.”

And there, in the warmth of the fire and in each other’s arms, you stayed. A perfect picture of everything you’d ever imagined— a life full of love, laughter, and little miracles that even the best of seers couldn’t have predicted.

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chososcamgirl · 4 months ago

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(SHE’S) JUST A PHASE CHAPTER FIVE: moon undah water

masterlist

“FUCK PANDA, WHERE’S MY EYELINER?” Yn yells, her voice echoing through the apartment as she throws open drawers and upends her makeup bag.

Panda, sprawled on the couch with an air of disinterest, doesn’t even look up from his comic. “Girl, I don’t fucking know. Maybe try checking the Bermuda Triangle of your room?”

Nobara, meticulously applying a fresh layer of gloss in the mirror, arches an eyebrow. “I thought you weren’t that fussed about your look tonight. Did the ‘low-key’ plan suddenly include a makeover?”

“Yeah, and we all know how committed she is to ‘low-key’,” Maki chimes in, scrolling through her phone with a practiced nonchalance. “Last week, she claimed she’d be fine with a used condom. Look at her now.”

Yn, throwing a dramatic glare at the mirror, retorts, “I’m just trying to avoid looking like I rolled out of bed. And don’t think I don’t see your smug face, Maki. You were ready twenty minutes ago.”

“I’m not saying anything,” Maki says, still smirking. “But let’s be real: you’re going to enjoy this concert way more than you’re letting on. I’ve seen you get excited over far less.”

“Right, like the way you get excited over a text from Yuta,” Yn shoots back, her irritation giving way to a smile. “This is different. I’m in denial. I’d rather stay home, but here we are.”

Panda finally drags himself up from the couch, stretching theatrically. “Alright, alright. Let’s find your eyeliner before you start writing angry letters to the universe and turn to a different religion.”

“Don’t act like you’re doing this out of the goodness of your heart,” YN says, rolling her eyes. “You’re just angling for free concert snacks.”

Panda ambles toward the bathroom, mumbling, “Hey, I’m just here to see if you start throwing punches at Megumi. And the if the concert snacks are free, so be it.”

Nobara chuckles as she finishes her gloss. “I swear, you act like finding that eyeliner is the equivalent of defusing a bomb.”

“And if she had to choose between a bomb and missing this concert,” Maki adds, “I bet she’d defuse the bomb.”

Panda returns, holding the eyeliner with a look of triumph. “Victory is mine. Your eyeliner has been rescued from its perilous hiding place. Now, can we please leave before Yn decides she’d rather stay home and have a personal pity party that contains Megumi’s face on a dart board?”

Yn grabs the eyeliner, her irritation melting into reluctant gratitude. “Thanks, Panda. I’ll try to enjoy myself, even if I’m still pretending this is all just a big inconvenience.”

Maki heads for the door, tossing a glance over her shoulder. “Just remember, when we’re at the concert and you’re having the time of your life, we’ll all be here to remind you of this moment.”

Panda pats Yn on the back with mock solemnity. “And I’ll be right there, enjoying the spectacle and making sure you don’t look like a hot mess.”

As they head out, the apartment hums with the low murmur of their laughter and playful banter, with Yn begrudgingly acknowledging that, despite her initial reluctance, she’s in for a night worth experiencing.

The curtains part with a dramatic swoosh, revealing four dark silhouettes against a blazing backdrop of stage lights. The crowd’s collective breath hitches in anticipation, a palpable energy crackling through the air. From her vantage point, she easily picks out Megumi; he’s more attractive in person than she could have imagined. His form, silhouetted against the intense glow, seems to exude a magnetic allure that’s both commanding and captivating.

“Thank you all for coming!” Toge’s voice booms with a rich resonance that reverberates through the venue, igniting a wave of cheers and applause from the throng of fans.

“We’re gonna start tonight off with a special.” Toge’s voice rises, each word dripping with promise.

Yuta’s bass rumbles underfoot, sending ripples of vibration through the audience, heightening the sense of anticipation.

“This is ‘Moon Undah Water’.” Toge declares, his voice imbued with a fierce energy that sets the stage ablaze.

As the first powerful chords of the song blast forth, the stage lights explode into a riot of color. The band is bathed in a kaleidoscope of hues, each member’s movements magnified in the shimmering light. Megumi’s electric guitar sparkles with every strum, his fingers dancing deftly over the frets. Yuji’s drumming pounds like a heartbeat, driving the rhythm forward with relentless intensity.

She finds herself enveloped in the music, each note wrapping around her like a living, breathing entity. The air is thick with the electric charge of the performance, the collective energy of the crowd mingling with the raw, pulsing sound.

Amidst the chaotic symphony of lights and sound, her gaze locks onto Megumi. His focus is intense, his body swaying in perfect harmony with the rhythm. As if drawn by an invisible thread, their eyes meet, and the world narrows to a single, searing point of connection. In that instant, it’s as though the entire venue fades away, leaving only the two of them suspended in a private universe.

Megumi’s lips curl into a slow, knowing smirk, a gesture that speaks of secrets shared and unspoken promises. His eyes glint with an almost predatory intensity, acknowledging the undeniable spark between them. The smirk is laden with confidence and a touch of mischief, as if he’s fully aware of the impact he’s having on her.

She feels a flush of warmth spread through her, her heart pounding in time with the frenetic rhythm of the song. The connection between them crackles with electricity, a silent dialogue that resonates beneath the explosive finale of the music. As the song builds to its triumphant climax, she remains locked in that moment, lost in the intensity of their shared gaze.

extras!

• megumi definitely snitched and asked gojo to put out the no food rule LMFAO

• so now the group just has a bunch of rotting tomato’s in their apartment

• give it 3 days and fruit flies will start invading

• the six shots joke is a big inside joke last year when yuji and yn were taking shots and on their seventh shot they both got really horny and hooked up

• drummer!yuji spinoff when.. looks at ree

• british slander in this sorry uk moots trust i love u all

• you know that one picture of the girl laying on top of the other one applying eyeshadow imagine yn and nobara instead

• no nobara and yn have not hooked up they just used to practice kissing on eachother to see if they were good kissers

• it was platonic idc

• nobara is def a good kisser tho

• megumi was def stressing bc he wanted to make yn eat her words by saying he was not attractive

• definitely worked

• my pussys gone crazy!!!!!!

• megumi smirking knowing yn was not expecting him to look like that omfg okay sjap megumi defenders u win this chapter

• yn def took a picture of him

a/n: i loved this chapter sorry it look so long LMFAO um next chap perhaps wednesday? i’m trying to not make a week long update bc it sucks so i’m trying to post twice a week😭 also moon undah water is a puma blue song! go listen to it here to get the vibe of the concert’s atmosphere or go listen to their set list here !

taglist: @shokosbunny @luvvmae @catobsessedlady @satoryaa @prozacprinc3ss @essjujutsu @therealsatorugojo @yeehawslap @gojodickbig @dawnisatotalqueen @j2upiters @nappingnai @lalalasillybilly3000 @totallytatum @3cst4syy @lysaray @saltypuffin1040 @aozui @noodles-icetea @makeshiftproject @kurtcobaingirlie @kokoiinuts @renbittt @dashingaurries @slvttycorpse @cuupidsss @mochroialainn @tenjikusstuff4 @oroborosttheiii @ichcocat @4ngelfries @drugzforyou @sugurubabe @allthestarsarecloserrrrrrr @tyigerz @yoyo-yui @megoomies @yizmiu @jasminasblog22 @yomamablazeit @marst4rz @guitarstringed-scars @qtnfer @kalulakunundrum @lovefrominaya @beepbopzlorp @iheartlindz @itsdragonius @meguemii @chilichopsticks @7kn0wn @starantulas @1l-ynn @bonitoflakez @rcveriees @solaqes @starrysho @sukunaspillow

*if i can't tag you please change your tag settings otherwise i will remove you from the list!

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holylulusworld · 5 days ago

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Bucky & Ducky (3) - Growing friendship

Summary: Bucky Barnes. Ruthless mafia boss. Soft only for his wife and…well, Ducky.

Pairing: Mobster!Bucky Barnes x Wife!Reader

Side pairing: Mobster!Bucky Barnes x Ducky the duck

Warnings: mafia business, fluff, unusual friendship

A/N: Thanks to @buck-star for the idea and brainstorming with me. I did it…😅

Catch up here: Bucky & Ducky (2) - Warming up

Bucky & Ducky Masterlist

“Morning, handsome,” you coo as your husband walks toward you. He looks handsome as ever in his tailored suit and with his neatly styled hair. “What are you up to today, Mr. Barnes?”

“First of all,” he chuckles and cups your face. “I’ll kiss my beautiful wife.” Bucky kisses you softly, smirking against you. “And then, I have a meeting with Steve and Sam. We want to discuss a few things—”

You press your index finger to his lips to stop Bucky from talking too much about the business. House rules – no talking about his business, yelling, or violence.

“What are you up to today, doll? How about you have a spa day? I want you to relax and have a day off.” Bucky pecks your nose, earning a giggle. “I mean it, baby doll. You work so hard and take care of the house, garden, and me.”

“Oh, Ducky! Why are you here, sweetie?” You gasp watching your newest family member waddle toward your husband. You put the duckling into a small plastic tub in the kitchen, but Ducky has other plans. The duckling quacks loudly, demanding Bucky’s attention.

Your husband crouches down to pick up the tiny duckling. “Punk, what are you doing here? Don’t you want to take a nice bath?”

The duckling snuggles into Bucky’s hand and quacks loudly. “Uh—I think Ducky believes you’re his mom or dad.” You smile softly. Your heart melts watching your husband, the dangerous mafia boss, care for a duckling. “What now? The little one won’t be happy if you leave now.”

Bucky looks at you and then at the duckling in his hands. He sighs because the tiny creature looks up at him like an innocent child. “Alright, Ducky. Let’s go to work together then.”

“What?”

“Can you hold them for a moment, doll?” Bucky carefully hands you the duckling to put his coat and scarf on. “Hmm…wait. I can’t take Ducky with me like this. They are going to freeze.”

“I could put them into a box with a blanket,” you offer.

“I’ve got this, doll,” Bucky jogs back upstairs to walk into your bedroom. He gets one of his scarves. He smirks as his eyes land on one of your plushies. A bear wearing a tiny bowtie. “Oh, look at that, Ducky.” He hums before grabbing the bear.

Bucky walks back downstairs, the scarf tugged under his arm, and a tiny bowtie dangling from his finger.

“Now we can go to work, punk,” Bucky says as he puts the tiny bowtie around Ducky’s neck. “You look good. A heartbreaker, just like your daddy.”

“Buck, what are you doing?” You snort watching Bucky wrap the scarf around the duckling. “Maybe Ducky should stay here with me.”

“No, it’s decided. We will go to work and have a blast messing with Sam, and maybe Steve too.” He holds Ducky in one hand, to cup your chin with his free hand. “Have a good day, baby doll. I’ll be back in no time.”

Bucky kisses you softly. He reluctantly steps away and turns to leave your home, Ducky still in his hand.

“Have a good day too, Bucky and Ducky,” you giggle and laugh as your husband, the ruthless mobster, is carrying a duckling around.

“Morning, Steve, Sam,” Bucky nods at his friends and partners in crime. He throws his scarf and coat on the couch at his office and wants to go straight to talking about business.

“Uh—Buck,” Steve laughs and points at something on the ground. “What’s that?”

“What is what?” Bucky looks around the room until his eyes land on Ducky. The duckling stands next to his foot, still wearing the tiny bowtie.

Sam snorts. “Bucky, are you blind? There is a yellow thing on your shoe!”

“Sam, Steve,” Bucky clears his throat as he points at the ducking. “Meet Ducky, our newest family member. He wanted to see my office.”

“That’s a duckling,” Sam chuckles. He holds his stomach before bursting into laughter. “…and…and…it’s wearing a bowtie!”

“Buck, be honest with us,” Steve says and places his hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “Y/N brought that little thing home, am I right?”

“She saved Ducky,” Bucky huffs when his friends stare at him as if he lost his mind. “They wanted to kill him because he was the weakest. She brought him home.”

“Why in the world would you put a bowtie on that thing?” Sam crouches down to look at Ducky. “Is it just me or does the duckling look pissed?”

“He looks pissed because you keep calling him a thing!” Bucky crouches down to pick Ducky up and places him on the couch.

“You’re carrying around a duckling,” Steve points out. “Why would you do such a thing?”

“I love Y/N and, he didn’t want to stay at home. I guess Ducky sees me as his father or something.” Bucky narrows his eyes at Sam, who tries to grab Ducky to get a better look at the duckling. “Hands off. No one touches Ducky!”

“Calm down,” Sam backpaddles, but laughs about Bucky’s reaction. “I only wanted to get a better look at the duckling.”

“How about we go back to work and talk about business.” Steve tries not to laugh when Ducky quacks loudly. “I hope he’s domesticated.”

“He won’t poop on your jacket, Steve.” Bucky grins at his friend. “Just you know, no one is going to disrespect Ducky. He’s part of the family now.”

He glances at Sam, giving him a stern look. Sam shows his palms and huffs. “Whatever, man. If your duckling is part of the family, it is part of the family…”

“Honey, we are home!” Bucky walks into the bedroom, Ducky in his arms. “We had a fruitful meeting with Steve and Sam.”

You smirk, watching your husband place Ducky on your bed. “I ran a bath for you. The water is nice and warm. I didn’t add bath salt this time. In case Ducky wants to join you.”

Bucky grins and picks Ducky back up. “What do you say, buddy? Do we want to take a bath before dinner?”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #x reader #mafia au #mobster!bucky barnes #Bucky & Ducky (3) - Growing friendship

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grlsinterrupted · 3 months ago

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hi can you do dally with Curtis sister reader (in between soda and pony's age) and their relationship is a secret because her brothers would lose their minds but Dal only has good intentions and is completely enamored by her. He sneaks into her room at night and the next morning when Darry goes to wake her up he flips out seeing Dallas Winston in his baby sister's bed and that causes Soda and pony to come in and freak out too

i’ll keep you my dirty little secret ✮⋆˙

secret relationship with dally | dallas winston x curtis ! reader ˚ 𖦹⋆｡˚

dallas winston, a name notorious even within his own gang. though your brothers were close friends with him, they never failed to remind you to stay cautious around him— god knows what he’d do to a girl like you. dallas has always been dubbed ‘the mean one’, ‘the dangerous one’, ‘the one that had nothing ahead of him.’ in the words of your younger brother, pony, ‘he had been arrested, he got drunk, he rode in rodeos, lied, cheated, rolled drunks, jumped small kids— he did everything.’

despite the number of people that warned you about dallas, there was something so irresistible about him that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. his subtle, yet flirtatious comments, were enough to turn you into a tomato-red mess. over the course of a few months, the two of you gradually spent more and more time together. from late night drives around tulsa to watching the sunrise— you name it, you and dallas have done it. if there’s one thing you’ve learned about him during your secret little dates, it’s that things are not always as they seem. dally isn’t as ‘rough’ as you thought he was, and it would be a lot harder explaining your relationship to your brothers than you thought it’d be.

the clouds outside your window are enveloping the night sky, twinkling stars peeking through the moonlight. despite how loud soda’s snoring gets, you’ve learned to tune it out by distracting yourself with a book. your nose is stuffed into little women, the book that dally recommended to you a few nights prior (and admittedly cried to while reading; his tear stains have literally seeped into the pages.) just as you were beginning to fall asleep, the sound knocking on your window startled you into wakefulness. who could be outside at this hour?

you pull your blanket off, scurrying around the room for something you can use for defense. after all those horror movies you’ve watched where the killer breaks into the victim’s house, you’d think you had at least some sort of knife or a pair of scissors you could use to protect yourself. but for now, that can of hairspray on your vanity will have to do— maybe you could spray your killer’s eyes and blind him?

as you make your way towards the window, the hairspray can in your hand, a familiarly gruff voice begins to utter something. “open up, doll! you’ve got me all romeo and juliet-ing right now!”

you let out a sigh of relief, sliding open the window. thank god it was just dallas, but what was he doing at your window while everyone else is asleep?

“you scared me, you know? i could’ve-“ you look down at your can of hairspray, then set it onto your window sill. “i could’ve sprayed you with that, and then your face would be stuck forever!”

“what, you don’t like my handsome face?” he smirks. it’s that stupid, cocky smirk that he always does, and he looks damn handsome doing it.

you roll your eyes at his remark, sliding the window back down. “just get in bed, you must be cold from standing out there.”

dallas’ eyes dart around your room, taking a moment to observe all of his surroundings. compared to all of the feminine aspects in your room, he sticks out like a sore thumb, practically drowning in a pool of lace and pearls. he then takes a seat on the edge of your bed, rubbing his hand along your floral sheets as he picks out a teddy bear from your collection of stuffed animals lined up against your bed.

“what’s with all these, uh.. stuffed animals?” he holds up your favorite out all the stuffed animals, ruffling the top of its head.

you take the teddy bear, putting it back in its original position. “i guess i never really got rid of them,” you shrug. “we need to get some sleep.”

“we?” he raises a brow.

you slide into your bed, lifting up the blanket for him. “yes, we. aren’t you tired?”

“i guess.” dallas slips into bed beside you, wrapping his arms around you as he takes in your scent. though he’ll never admit it, he’s always loved the way you smelt like freshly baked cookies— it brings a soft of comfort to him that he never received. your scent reminds him of a warm bonfire, the sound of crackling overlapping with laughter. to him, you are the home he never had, the love he never knew existed in such a cold heart like his. you were his solace.

his hand moved up to your shoulder, gently running his fingers through your hair and twirling a strand. his touch was soothing against your skin, careful to not accidentally wake you. soon enough, both of you were asleep, safe and sound.

the next morning, you’re awoken by a loud, screeching noise, but much to your surprise, it isn’t your alarm. your eldest brother, darry, is furiously shaking you and dallas awake.

“Y/N, WHAT THE HELL IS DALLAS DOING IN YOUR BED?”

you groggily wipe your eyes, taking a glance at dally, then looking up at darry. “it’s 8 in the morning, and why do you care that he’s sleeping with me?!”

“i care because it’s dallas we’re talking about, god dammit! get him out of your bed!” darry flips over the blanket, shaking him awake.

the sound of darry’s yelling echoes throughout the house and eventually wakes up pony and soda. the two of them rush into your room, and as soon as they realize that dallas is beside you in your bed, their mouths are left agape.

“holy shit, y/n! you’ve been hanging around with dal this whole time?” soda huffs out a chuckle, too stunned to even be angry at you.

pony rubs his temples, shaking his head. “you guys are gross.”

dallas sits up, groaning and putting his hands up as if he’s surrendering. “okay, we were sleepin’ together, big deal!” he sighs. “just- look, darry, i ain’t mean to make you upset or whatever! ”

darry lets out a rough exhale, taking a step back from the two of you. he motions for pony and soda to leave with a death glare, then looks back at you as they’re making their way back to their room.

“you know what, i’m not dealing with this right now. we’ll sort everything out by the evening, got it?”

the two of you nod, exchanging satisfied grins. maybe by the evening, your brothers will come to their senses and realize that dallas isn’t really that ‘mean’ or ‘violent’ guy they perceive him to be, but someone with so much love in his heart that’s hidden underneath a façade.

’i’ll keep you my dirty little secret.. ’ .ᐟ ₊˚⊹♡

⊹ side note : i’m so sorry this took so long! it usually doesn’t take me more than a week to finish a fic, but i’ve had a lot to do and this fic is a bit lengthier than my others

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marie-swriting · 5 months ago

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Love Advice - Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Top Gun Maverick Masterlist

Summary : Jake comes back after six months of deployment and he needs your help to win the woman he loves.

Warnings : a tiny bit of angst, mutual pining, thinking there's an unrequited love, happy ending, maybe some grammatical mistakes as English is not my first language, tell me if you see some or if I missed any warnings.

Word count : 3.4k

French version

Song inspiration : How You Get The Girl (Taylor's Version) by Taylor Swift

Somebody knocking on your door takes your attention away from your TV show; at first, you just lower the volume down so the person doesn’t know you’re home and wait for them to leave. However, the second the knocks on the door get more insistent and you hear ‘I know you’re home’ with a Texan accent, you jump out of your couch and run to open the door to Jake. You joyfully shriek before throwing yourself into his arms. Jake laughs because of your enthusiasm, then he tenderly holds you close to him.

You haven’t seen each other in six months because of his last deployment. Of course, you called each other almost every day, it’s just not the same. You've been thick as thieves since you were five, you need to see each other often.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming home today?” you ask, breaking the embrace.

“I wanted to surprise you.”

“Well, you did. I missed you so much!” you exclaim, kissing his cheek before bringing him inside. “I hope you’re staying home for a long time. Six months without seeing each other is too much!”

“I totally agree.”

As usual, when he comes back home, you spend the day together then, Jake sleeps at yours. You go downtown, eat something, even watch a movie if there’s something interesting and the next day, Jake goes to his place - he lives twenty minutes away.

As soon as the night comes, you go home, takeout food in hand. You go into your living-room and you put a random show as background noise. You keep talking about the last few months in order to catch up when you decide to bring up a topic Jake seems to avoid.

“So, you didn’t tell me anything, what’s going on with Lara?”

Jake met Lara in a bar a week before leaving. You weren’t with him that night, so you don’t know a lot about their relationship; all you know is Jake got along with her pretty well.

“Oh, huh… Well…” he stutters and avoids your gaze.

“Jake,” you say with a disapproving tone. “Don’t tell me you messed up. Not again!”

“Not really. Okay, maybe a little.”

“What did you do?”

“I may or may not have not called her since I left.”

“Are you kidding me?” you scream, hitting his shoulder. “Do you realise you’re the kind of guy we talk shit about when we’re talking with other girls? Jake, you have to stop being a dick and destroying your relationship. You’re a nice guy, but whenever it’s about love, you’re the worst of them. Every time you find an awesome girl, you just ruin everything.”

“I know and this time, I want to fix this.”

“Before we keep going, you didn’t cheat on her, did you?”

“I might suck at relationships, however, you know I have some limits and I’m quite proud to say I’ve never crossed that line.” he affirms with a grin.

“You better!”

“Anyway, at first, I didn’t know what I wanted with her but now I do. I really connected with Lara and I want her to forgive me and give me another chance, I just don’t know how to do it.”

Following his sentence, you immediately understand what he wants. He messed up and now he needs your wise advice to fix the situation. Again. You roll your eyes before straightening up.

“I’m gonna make you pay for my love advice one day, at least, I’ll become a billionaire in a month with you.”

“You’re the most stable person I know when it comes to relationships so obviously I always go to you! Besides, you’re a woman, you know what to do.”

“True.” you modestly confirm. “First thing first, meet her in a neutral environment, a café for example.”

“And I buy her flowers?”

“Do you know her favourite flowers?”

“Roses are the safe option, right?” he suggests and you’re desperate.

“Do you know any personal details about Lara, like her favourite book?” you ask and he shakes his head. “Well, just pay for whatever she orders. First, you apologise and you do it correctly, you put the focus on her and what she might have felt. The goal is not for her to comfort you because you feel bad when you’re the one who messed up. If she still hasn’t thrown her drink in your face, you’re on the right track. Then you say, in the most convincing way, you want her, not an other girl, for worse or for better. You know it’s gonna take her some time for her to trust you again but you will forever and ever. Tell her you know you broke her and you’ll put it back together because you care about her and you want to do better for her. In short, show her you want to be a better man and make sure your actions match your words quickly. And that’s how it works, that’s how you get the girl. At least, your chances will be higher.”

“You seriously think it can work?” Jake asks skeptical.

“I can’t 100% promise you but, at least, it shows you want to be the man she deserves. Either way, you have to keep me updated! And also, don’t wait too long to do it. You should even contact her right now so you can see her in the following days.”

“You’re right.”

Jake takes his phone and quickly types a message. After you approve it, he sends it and nervously waits for the response; however, being tired from the travel, Jake quickly starts to yawn so you go to sleep. Jake sleeps in the same bed as you. You’ve always done it so you’re not going to change this now, after all, between you two, it’s purely platonic.

At least, for him. The same cannot be said about you. When you were still in High School, your crush on Jake was almost embarrassing. It’s actually the only secret you’ve never told him. Officially. During prom, you confessed to Jake you wanted to be more than friends nevertheless he was so drunk he didn’t understand it and the next day; he had zero recollection of it and you were very grateful. You don’t know what you would’ve done if he had remembered. You probably would have lost your best friend and you couldn’t allow this to happen so you just repressed your crush until it eventually died.

Notwithstanding, what you don’t know and the only secret Jake has never told you is that he remembers pretty well what you told him that night. He was just so stunned that he pretended he didn’t understand it. He thought he didn’t like you that way so he said nothing to not alter your friendship; though, the backlash was pretty violent two years later when you got your first serious boyfriend, Jake was insanely jealous. At first, he just thought he was afraid to lose his best friend until he reached the dreadful conclusion: he has feelings for you and it’s too late, he missed his chance with you. As a consequence, Jake went from one fling to the other while you were going from one long-lasting relationship to the other without him understanding what you found to ‘those dudes’ like he always says. Though, these last few months, he has come to terms with the fact one of ‘those dudes’ whom you’ve been with for several years is the one for you. Jake isn’t sure he’s the one you deserve, and he doesn’t want to ruin your friendship, that’s why he wants to fix his relationship with Lara, especially because your relationship with Scott is the longest one you’ve ever had and he’s probably your future husband so Jake definitely has to stop hoping you’ll get together one day. He has to move just like you did.

The next morning, once Jake wakes up, you’ve already left for work. While he’s eating breakfast, Jake’s eyes are set on a picture of you and him hung on your wall, he has his lips pressed on your cheek while you’re trying to hide your fluster with a smile. The picture was taken on the last day of High School and he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t one of his favourites. He finds you cute in this photo.

His phone ringing catches his attention. He unlocks it and discovers a text from Lara.

Message from Lara to Jake, 8:37 A.M.:

I’m willing to hear you out, but just because I want some explanations. Is tomorrow afternoon okay for you?

Jake quickly answers her and confirms the date. He should be happy, Lara is open to the discussion though, he can’t help his heart to tighten in his chest, and he stares at the picture on the wall again. He shakes his head and brings back his attention to Lara. You’re part of his romantic past, even if nothing ever happened, Lara is his future. He has to think about her, not you.

The minute you come home from work that night, Jake tells you about his date the next day. You congratulate him with a big smile, though your heart breaks a little. Jake rehearses to you what he’s going to tell Lara to make sure he won't ruin his last chance and you assure him his speech is perfect.

“White lilies, those are her favourite flowers.” Jake says point blank.

“Then offer her some. It’ll prove you care about her because you remember a small detail about her.”

“That’s why you didn’t want me to take roses?”

“Exactly. If you are lucky and it’s her favourite flower, you’re good but imagine if she hates them because she finds them cliché, you’ll ruin your chances before opening your mouth, ‘cause on top of not being original, you just prove you don’t pay attention to her. Roses are the safe option, yet it doesn’t mean it should be your choice at the slightest obstacle. You’re already taking risks by coming back after six months of radio silence so go all the way, don’t play safe with roses.”

“You’re right.”

“I know I’m right! And please, please, please, don’t buy her flowers only when you screw up. Do it when everything is good between you. Do it even when there’s nothing to celebrate. It’s those kinds of tiny details that’ll make all the difference, it proves you care about her. Of course, it goes further than flowers but you get the idea, the fact is, you can’t let a routine get in the way and the only times you break it and you give her some attention is to make up to her or believe me, it’s the breakup for sure because she’ll feel abandoned.” you specify, saying your last sentence at an incredible speed and Jake looks at you suspiciously.

“Is everything okay between you and Scott? It sounded personal at the end.”

“We’re not talking about me but you.”

“So the answer is no.” he affirms, reading you like an open book.

“We broke up five months ago.” you sigh.

“What? Why didn’t you tell me? What did he do? He didn’t cheat on you, did he?” Jake questions, protective.

“No, it’s not that. It’s just after six, almost seven years of relationship, we lost ourselves in a routine and we realised we were together out of habits not out of love. Besides, we argued more and more for useless things. It’s better like that.”

What you’re not telling Jake is that there is another reason. Scott was sure you and Jake are in love. No matter how many times you said your crush on Jake was only when you were a teenager and that Jake never loved you like this, Scott never believed you. Your friendship with Jake was the main argument between you and Scott.

“You should have told me sooner rather than pretending you were fine when we were on the phone.”

“Don’t worry, I got over it. Let’s talk about you and Lara again. You didn’t tell me a lot about her.”

“In my defence, I never thought I’d go further with her.”

Jake replies to your several questions, but he can’t help and think back to the information you just gave him. You broke up with Scott, something he didn’t think would happen. He was sure you were going to end your life with him. As opposed to your exes, Jake had to admit Scott did deserve you and it cost him a lot to say it, nonetheless he could see how Scott made you happy like he never could. Maybe this time Jake could make you happy? Jake pushed this last thought in the back of his mind. He agreed he had to leave you in the past. Jake can’t hope for a future with you when he’s about to win Lara’s heart again! He needs to stay focused.

Jake ends up leaving in the late evening to go to his place. You hug him and give him some encouragement for his date before closing the door behind him. That night, Jake struggles to fall asleep, completely lost about who he truly wants.

The next day as it is your day off and raining a lot, you stay home and clean your apartment from top to bottom. Music coming out of your phone, you wipe the floor with care when someone knocks on your door. You loudly sigh then put the mop back in the bucket and make sure it doesn’t fall before walking to the door whilst shutting down your music. Once you open, you surprisingly find Jake, soaking wet, with a bouquet of several flowers in purple tones.

“Jake? What are you doing here?”

“I remember.” he tells you as if you were supposed to get it.

“What are you talking about?”

“Prom.”

“What? Aren’t you supposed to be with Lara by now, anyway? And I thought you were gonna offer her lilies.” you question, after you understood what he meant.

“The flowers, they’re for you. I’m not playing safe, I know you love these kinds of bouquet because you can’t pick a favourite flower and your favourite colour is purple.” he says, handing you the bouquet, yet you don’t take it.

“What? Are you insane? Lara is the one you’re supposed to win over, not me!”

“That’s what I thought, too, but it wouldn’t have been fair to her. I still went to meet her and apologise for ghosting her though, she isn’t the one I want.”

“Jake, I don’t understand.”

“Can I come in?”

Without replying to him, you step aside and let him in. Jake takes his damped shoes off before walking to the kitchen entrance.

“I’m gonna get you a towel, I don’t want you to be sick. Make yourself a coffee to warm up.”

Whilst you grab a clean towel, you try to understand what’s happening. You didn’t expect to see him, especially with flowers. The second you go back to him, Jake puts his freshly poured cup down and takes the towel while handing you the bouquet once more and this time, you accept it. Without holding yourself back, you smell the flowers and tenderly look at them; you love them. Jake got it right. He’s proud of himself when he sees the soft smile on your face.

“They’re beautiful, Jake, but why?”

“Like I said, I remember. I remember what you told me during prom.” he specifies whilst drying his face.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” you lie, avoiding his eyes.

“I think you do. You told me you had feelings for me.”

You stare at Jake, confused. You were convinced he had no memory of that moment. In one second, your cheeks heat and you don't know what to do with yourself.

“I pretended to not remember because I didn’t know how to react and I’m sorry.” Jake admits, putting down the towel and taking a sip of his coffee.

“Don’t apologise, you saved me from a moment that would have haunted me until I die like this moment will.”

“I shouldn’t have ignored you.” he affirms, putting down his cup on the table. “You confessed something very important to me and by ignoring you, I broke your heart and mine in the process. I didn’t know it at the time but I also had feelings for you. I realised it too late, actually when you met dickhead number 1.”

“You mean Josh?” you ask, laughing.

“That’s what I said. Anyway,” Jake resumes getting closer to you, “I should have talked to you and not leave you in the dark. Your friendship means a lot to me and that night, I didn’t act as a good friend. Even if I hadn't had feelings for you, I should’ve said something and not let you deal with your broken heart alone. I’m sorry I broke your heart that night and if it’s not too late, I want to pull it back together. I never stopped having feelings for you. I spent years ignoring my feelings and every time I wanted to confess them, you were with someone else and now, it’s the right time. I want you, not an other girl, for worse or for better.”

“What about Lara? I thought you liked her.” you ask, trying not to get your hopes up.

“She’s nice but she’ll never make me feel what I feel with you. I would have never been honest with her if I had been with her. That’s why I never got in a serious relationship actually, you were always on my mind and I didn’t want another girl there. I wanted to try with Lara because I thought I had missed my chance with you so I wanted to move on, yet when you told me you and Scott were over yesterday, I knew you’d always be in my heart. That’s why I preferred to apologise to Lara without getting into a relationship with her. I could have never committed to her because I want to do it with you. I don’t know if you still have feelings for me and if you do, you’re probably hesitant considering my history and I get it though, I mean it when I say I want to commit to you.” he insists, looking you right in the eyes. “I’m not saying I’ll be perfect right away but you can be sure I’ll do everything to be. I know it’s gonna take some time for you to trust me but I will, forever and ever. I care about you, no, I love you and I want to do better for you. For once, I wanna be the good boyfriend and more particularly the man you deserve,” Jake states, putting his hand on your cheek, “the one who will buy you flowers at any occasion, the one who won’t abandon you, the one you’ll never get stuck in a routine with, the one who will make you happy, make you feel loved and who will cherish you until his dying breath.”

At the end of his speech, you’re at a loss for words. You didn’t expect a confession of love from him and you never thought Jake was capable of saying such beautiful things or even being serious about a relationship. Not knowing what to reply, you put your free hand on Jake’s cheek and kiss him with passion. He doesn’t waste a second to kiss you back. Among all the kisses he’s shared, this one is officially his favourite, and he hopes he’ll relive it every day of his life. His heart is beating fast in his chest while he brings you closer to him. As soon as you break the kiss, you look at Jake with eyes full of love.

“I never stopped loving you, Jake.”

Jake smiles as he hears your confession. He was very nervous when he came to your place. He was afraid he’d ruin everything, and he’s relieved to know he was wrong.

“Wow, your advice works wonders,” he suddenly says with a sarcastic tone. “Well, I improved your speech a bit but I approve of it. You really should get paid for your love advice.”

“I told you that’s how it works.” you affirm as if it was obvious. “That’s how you got the girl.”

“That’s how I got my girl.”

When you hear the emphasis on the pronoun, you avoid his gaze for a second, flustered. You clear your throat before speaking again.

“You should take me to a first date then.”

“Oh, I will. Any advice as to what to do on a first date? I have to impress this girl who means a lot to me.”

You both laugh then you bring Jake close to you again before pressing your lips on him, the second kiss even better than the first one.

Top Gun Maverick Masterlist

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joedirtymadre · 7 months ago

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Apologizing after your First Fight

Part 2, (Pls send requests, I like making these!)

MONSTER TRIO + LAW, ACE, SABO

LUFFY

You spent the next day in your room, refusing to eat or just say hi to your worried crew mates. You hugged yourself h def the covers, wondering if you went too far with your words. Maybe you should have said it in a different way…? You continued to wonder whether you should take your captain’s words to heart… “Maybe it would be best if I do start my own crew… a crew that won’t lash out when anyone speaks their mind…” you sighed as you nuzzled deeper into your bed.

Luffy’s POV

I stared off into the sunset while sitting on top of Sunny’s head. “She didn’t have to be so mean…” I grumbled as I continued to stare out into the open. “Luffy!” I heard Bami call out. “Wha-“ I was cut off by a smack to my head. “Ow!” I shouted. “Good! Why is (Y/N) still in her room? Why haven’t you checked up on her?” She asked, annoyed. “…” I stayed quiet. “Answer me!” She glared as she pulled on my cheek. “We haf a fighf,” I said nervously. “A fight?” Robin asked as she joined us. “Yeah,” I said as Nami let go of my cheek. “What did you do?” Nami asked as she crossed her arms. “Nothing! Or… nothing serious! I don’t know why she’s mad at me and trying to boss me around like she’s captain,” I huffed.

“Are you talking about yesterday?” Nami asked as she sat down beside me. “Yeah… she yelled at me because I left the ship to explore the island,” I explained. “Well why do you think that made her angry?” Robin asked as she sat on the other side of me. “I don’t know… cause I didn’t stay on the ship like I was supposed to… but I got bored!” I groaned. “Ok, but what else did she say?” Robin asked.

“Well… she said she’s mad that I didn’t listen to her, but I’m not a kid!” I argued back. “Ok, well think about it this way. What if you asked (Y/N) to make you a giant meal and she said ok, and later you find out she never made it because she got bored or distracted. Wouldn’t you be mad too?” Nami asked. “Yeah I would, but…” I trailed off. “I get it now, she’s mad cause she asked me to do something and I said ok but I went off to do my own thing…” I said softly, finally understanding. “Good, now go apologize!” Nami said. “Ok!” I said quickly as I jumped up to run to (Y/N)’s room.

I knocked on her door, hoping she’d answer it. “…coming,” I heard softly. I braced myself for a beating, but when the door opened I saw my girl in front of me. She had frizzy hair, swollen eyes, and was wrapped in a blanket. “(Y/N)…” I said softly. “What do you want?” she asked. “Can I come inside?” I asked. “You’re the captain, you can do whatever you want…” she glared as she walked back towards her bed. I followed her inside and shut the door behind me.

“(Y/N), I’m sorry… I didn’t understand why you were mad, but I get it now. You asked me to do something and I didn’t… I went out to do my own thing…” I said softly as I opened my arms, hoping she’d hug me back. “You really hurt my feelings,” she said softly. “I know, I just didn’t like being told what to do… and at the time I didn’t see what the problem was,” I explained. “You told me to go start my own crew… why would you try to kick me out of the crew so easily?” She asked as her eyes became glossy. “I was mad, I’m sorry… please don’t leave, don’t leave me,” I said as I pulled her into a tight hug.

“I’m sorry, I’ll always listen to you, cause I know you’re just trying to keep me and everyone else safe,” I said as I squeezed her tighter. “Alright… but you know you have to make it up to me, right?” She asked softly. “Yeah,” I replied. “It’s gonna be a mean punishment… I mean it,” she laughed as she looked up to me. “That’s fine, as long as you don’t leave. You can’t leave, I won’t let you,” I grinned. “Ok, but I haven't forgiven you yet. That punishment is gonna be big,” she said with a mischievous look in her eyes. “Bring it on,” I laughed.

ZORO

I sat in the dining room, just wanting to clear my head. I know I messed up, but did she seriously have to run away from me? I groaned as I slammed my head on the table. “Hey Moss head, break that forehead somewhere else. We eat there,” Curly brow frowned. “Whatever…” I replied. “Woah, no come back? Did you break one of your swords or something?” He asked as he sat across from me, wiping his hands. “I said something stupid to (Y/N), and I made her upset… I regretted saying it, but in the moment it slipped out… Now she’s been ignoring me for the past few days. “That’s why I’ve been seeing her in Chopper’s office more often,” he said. “Yeah, anytime I find her she runs away…” I groaned.

“So what did you say?” Sanji asked as he took out a cigarette. “I said… I said I feel like she’s smothering… me,” I said softly. “You dumbass! To (Y/N)?! I should shove my foot down your throat for uttering words like that to her!” The cook glared. I bit my tongue, not wanting to fight. “Did you at least talk to her about wanting space?” He asked. “No…” I sighed as I banged my head against the table again. “You really are a dumb marimo,”

Sanji said. “I know, so what can I do?” I asked. “You’re asking me for advice? That’s a first,” he scoffed. “Well, I would first apologize, and then you need to tell her the reason behind your little tantrum. Cause now she thinks you think she’s a bother, when she’s not,” he said. “That’s… really helpful,” I said. “Now hurry the hell out of here, before I try to steal her away from you,” he said he leaned into his chair. I nodded and rushed out of the dining room.

“(Y/N)!” I began calling around the ship, but no one’s seen her. “Where could she be?” I asked myself. “(Y/N)? She’s in the library,” Chopper said as he walked out of his office. “Thanks!” I said as I rushed off.

“(Y/N)!” I called out. “Yes?” I heard in a cold tone. I walked towards the voice and found her in a corner reading, not once looking up from her book. “Hey,” I said awkwardly as I walked closer. “What do you want?” She asked. “I wanted to… to see you,” I said slowly. “You sure? Cause I thought I was suffocating you,” she spat. “(Y/N)… I didn’t mean that, I don’t know… in the moment I just felt every-“ she cut me off.

“No need to explain. You want space, I’ll give you space,” she said quickly. “Oh thank god, I was scared you’d leave me… so you understand that sometimes I-“ she cut me off again. “Yep, so there’s no need for us to be together anymore if you find me so suffocating,” she smiled and quickly shut her book. “Wait, what?” I asked. “Why be with someone you find too clingy? I get it, might as well live that lone wolf style you want so bad,” she said as she began leaving. “No! Just please let me explain, just 1 minute,” I pleaded.

“Ok, 1 minute,” she said as she turned to face me. "I don’t find you annoying, clingy, or anything! I just… sometimes I just miss having alone time, but I don’t want to be alone all the time. God, even I don’t understand myself! I just… I felt like if I said anything you might leave me, but I don’t want you to leave… I love you…” I felt my ears turning red. “If you love me, then why did you think you couldn’t talk to me about this? I understand people needing their personal space, but you really didn’t feel comfortable communicating with me about this? You really think I’m the kind of person that would freak out over that?” She asked as tears welled up in her eyes.

“I’m sorry… you shouldn’t have to put up with me,” I said, feeling defeated. “Don’t say it like that, I like being with you.” She smiled softly as she stepped closer to me. “Please forgive me, I really don’t want to end things,” I said. “Alright, but make sure you talk to me from now on. Please?” She asked. “Yeah,” I nodded as I pulled her into a hug. “Oh, and you definitely have to make it up to me,” she smiled. “Definitely,” I smiled back.

SANJI

TW* (Eating Disorder, Starvation, Insecurities, etc.)

It’s been a few days now and I’m seriously worried about (Y/N), I grabbed the untouched tray from her door step. “(Y/N) please open the door! Please!” I pleaded as I pounded on the door. No response. I looked at the tray with worry, it’s been 4 days and she hasn’t stepped out of her room once. She hasn’t touched any of the trays of food either… “I’m sorry!” I called out, before finally kicking the door down.

I heard a small yelp. I looked inside and saw her room, clothes thrown everywhere, her closet emptied, and my eyes finally fell to her. She was sitting at her small vanity table, hair disheveled, pale skin, and dull eyes. “You really broke my door down?” She asked as she turned back to the vanity mirror. “I was worried about you, you haven’t stepped out of this room in 4 days, eaten in 4 days! I’m supposed to protect you, take care-” I was cut off. “Shut up! You don’t even care about me!” She spat.

“Why would you say that?” I asked as I stepped closer. “Because look at me… I’m not as pretty as her, not as thin, tall, have crappy hair, dull eyes… I can’t even compete against Nami…” she said softly as her body began to tremble. I stood behind her and softly placed my hands on her shoulders, turning her around to face me. “Are you crazy? You’re perfect, why are you comparing yourself to her?” I asked. “Because I see the way you look at her… the way you talk about her. I mean… you wouldn’t even let me touch her stupid dessert!” she glared.

“(Y/N) I love you, there’s no other woman that I want to be with. You have to believe me,” I said. “Kinda hard to believe you after that day,” she said as she avoided my eyes. “Please, I never wanted to hurt your feelings. My chef hat must’ve been too tight that day… I hate seeing you like this. I miss seeing your beautiful eyes whenever you watch me cook. Your smile can light up 10 billion islands, I love seeing you fight with your hair, I love how you can’t stay clean when we cook, I love how you never get tired of listening about my dream, and I love how you’ve always been so patient with me… Even when I’m being a shitty boyfriend…” I said softly as I wiped her tears with my thumbs.

“I… I can’t trust you,” she confessed. Those words felt like a knife went through my heart. “I understand…” I said softly as I stood up. I held out my hand, she stared confusedly. “Sanji?” She asked as she looked up. “If you’ll allow me, I’ll happily spend the rest of my life trying to prove to you how much I love you. I won’t let you feel 2nd place ever again,” I smiled softly, hoping she’ll accept. She stared at my hand for what felt like an eternity, but slowly placed hers in mine.

I quickly pulled her into a hug, “I know this doesn’t mean you’re forgiving me, but thank you for giving me another chance,” I said softly as I held on tight. I felt her tense up, but slowly relaxed in my arms. “Now, come on,” I said as I lifted her up. “Huh? W-Where are we going?” She asked, gaining some color back onto her face. “To the kitchen, I can’t let a goddess starve any longer,” I smiled as I walked towards the kitchen. “I-I can walk,” she blushed. “No way, I told you… I’ll happily spend the rest of my life proving myself to you,” I smiled.

LAW

You tossed your wrench, “Fuck!” you cursed as you laid on the floor next to the wiring you disassembled. That’s it, you’ve given up… you were starving, cold, and exhausted. “What time is it?” You asked yourself and checked your watch to see it was 10PM. “Woah… have I really been here all day? I haven’t eaten… I- Law!” You said as you scrambled to your feet. “He’s gonna be so mad at me… I acted so stubborn and stupid earlier,” You said worriedly as you rushed to your bedroom. You stopped right in front of your bedroom door. “I didn’t even fix the stupid motor, so now I look like a useless asshole,” You whispered to yourself as you slowly entered the bedroom.

“The asshole part is right,” you heard. You turned to see him sitting in the corner of the room reading under a lamp. You walked up slowly, “Hi,” you said softly. “Hey,” he glared. “Did you end up fixing the motor?” He asked. “N-No,” you stuttered. “Mmm,” he nodded, focusing back on the pages of his book. “L-Law… I’m sorry,” you said softly. “Sorry? For what?” He asked, acting clueless. “I acted like an ass earlier, I just wanted to fix the stupid motor. I wanted to help, but I probably made things worse,” you sighed as you sat in the chair beside him. “Oh well,” he said and closed his book. “I know you just wanted to help me earlier, but… I don’t know. There’s no excuse for my behavior earlier,” you said as you watched him walk to bed. “Well, thank you for your apology,” he said as he tucked himself into bed.

You sat awkwardly in your chair, maybe this is his way of asking for space? “I-I’ll go bunk with Bepo tonight, you deserve some space…” you trailed off as you headed towards the exit. “I didn’t say you could leave,” his voice boomed. You slowly turned around and walked towards the bed. He stared at you for a few seconds, “Come on already, I know you’re exhausted,” he said as he lifted the blanket. You rushed over and hopped into bed with him. “I’m sorry,” you repeated as you nuzzled into his chest. “It’s fine, we all act like assholes once in a while. I know you just wanted to help fix the motor, but next time take my advice and take a break,” he said as he kissed your forehead. “Mhmm, forgive me for my outburst earlier?” You asked. “Yeah, but you owe me. I had to spend one of our days off alone,” he grumbled. “Alright,” you smiled before falling asleep in each other’s arms.

ACE

It’s been 2 days since our argument and (Y/N) has been avoiding me like the plague. “Something wrong?” Marco asked. “I just don’t get why (Y/N) is so mad at me… You guys leave all the time without telling us and we don’t say anything,” I sighed as I banged my head against the bar. “Well, we’re not dating (Y/N). So she doesn’t really have the right to know when we’re leaving, but she does for you,” he said. “What?” I asked. “Well wouldn’t you be oissed if (Y/N) took off one day without even saying a goodbye, or even mentioning that she had a personal mission to do?” Marco asked. “Well I mean yeah, but… God I’m such a shitty boyfriend,” I groaned. “Now you get it!” Marco laughed.

“And if I were you, I’d apologize quickly. Heard through the grapevine she asked Pops to go on a personal mission for a while,” Marco said. “What? Without even- oh god I’m an asshole!” I said as I raced towards her bedroom. “(Y/N)! (Y/N)! (Y/N)!” I said as I knocked on the door repeatedly. “What?” She asked as she swung the door open. “I heard you’re leaving? Why?” I asked. “None of your business,” she said as she tried to shut the door, but my foot stopped it.

“It is my business, I can’t just let my-“ she cut me off. “Your what? Cause last time I checked I’m obviously not your girlfriend because you see me as nothing more than a crewmate,” she glared. “No I… I’m here to apologize,” I said slowly. “I didn’t get why you were so upset, but now that the roles are reversed I get it now… I’m acting like a shitty boyfriend, I should have told you that I was leaving. The thought of you just leaving without telling me anything… scares me, because you’re right, what if I never see you again?” I explained as I pushed my way through. She stepped back, “Please forgive me,” I pleaded.

“You don’t get how many nights I laid awake wondering if I was never going to see you again. If you were ever going to hold me again… why would you put me through that?” She asked. “I wasn’t thinking… I never think, I’m just a big dumbass with an amazing girlfriend who actually puts up with me,” I confessed. “You’re right, you are dumb. But at least you realize how amazing I am,” she softly smiled. I quickly pulled her in for a hug, “Don’t think I’m forgiving you just because you understand what you did wrong,” She said. “I know, I know. How should I make it up to you? Maybe I should spend the whole night making it up to you?” I asked slyly as my hands slid down her back. “Oh u-umm…” she blushed.

SABO

You have been ignoring Sabo for the past week. No matter how many times he’s tried to talk to you, give gifts, or whatever. You were sick and tired of him, you sat on a rock staring out into the sunset. “Hey (Y/N),” you heard a voice behind you. You turned to see Koala, “Hey Koala, what’s up?” you asked. “Nothing much, but I noticed you and Sabo had some sort of argument. He hasn’t told me anything, but I’m nervous I had something to do with it,” she said nervously as she sat beside me.

“Well to be honest, you’re only a small part of the problem. The real reason we fought is because he doesn’t want to spend time with me… The few hours we have free he always spends it reading or training, that we can’t goof off because we’re supposed to always be on high alert. But when he’s with you or anyone else he’s ok with goofing off and running off to go do something fun? I’m over it, he asked me to be his girlfriend. So why should I have to put up with his behavior as if he’s doing me some huge favor of being with me?” You asked. “I’m sorry… I didn’t even think about that… That is pretty crappy of him,” she said slowly. “Yeah, but it’s fine. We can go back to just teammates if that’s what he wants, since that’s how I’m being treated,” you sighed as you laid on your back.

“You’re really not going to give him another chance?” She asked. “I don’t know, but I do know that he’s in the trees behind us listening to us,” you said as you glanced over at Koala. “H-Huh?” She asked as she spun her head around. “Used you as a cover,” you shrugged. “Jeez…” Koala huffed. “It’s fine, but I guess I’ll see you later,” you smiled. “Yeah, don’t be ‘too’ hard on him,” she winked at me and I shrugged in response.

“Hey…” Sabo called out as he sat beside you. “Hi,” you replied. “I was just p-passing by I swear,” he smiled nervously. “You’re such a bad liar,” you said. “Look… (Y/N), I just wanted to say sorry. I haven’t been treating you so well these past few weeks and instead of spending my days off with you doing things that you like, I’ve gone off and either ignored you or left you alone…” he said slowly. “Yep. I’m glad you realized how crappy you’ve been,” you said as you glanced over to him. “Please forgive me?” He asked as he scooted closer to you. “No,” you said, bluntly. “At least give me another chance? I promise you won’t feel like this ever again,” he said as he grabbed your hand. You stared at him for a few seconds, “I guess, but if you ever pull this type of behavior again… who knows what will happen to you,” you playfully shrugged. “Sounds like a deal,” he smiled. “But… you do owe me, I still haven’t forgiven you,” you smirked. “Jeez, won’t let me off the hook so easily, huh?” he chuckled nervously. “Nope,” you said.

1K notes · View notes

saturnznct · 6 months ago

Text

best kind of nap | jks

➸ word count; 549 words

➸ ella; aged 3

➸ warning(s); none

enhypen masterlist

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

‘Jake? El?’

You’d just arrived home from a late night at work to a seemingly deserted apartment. The TV is on in your living room, midway through an episode of Pororo, and Ella’s toys are littered across the floor. Despite this, your husband and daughter are nowhere to be found.

‘Hello?’

Ella’s bedroom is also empty, so you continue down the corridor. When you round the corner into your own bedroom, your heart nearly explodes.

Jake is laying on your bed, fast asleep, arm wrapped around an also sleeping Ella.

The two of them are the spitting image of each other, faces smushed against the pillows, mouths slightly open and snoring softly.

You smile widely at the sight, immediately itching to be beside them.

Peeling off your formal work clothes, you grab a pair of sweatpants and pull them on, before crawling into bed with them.

You brush away some hair that’s fallen over her face, savouring how sweet and angelic she looks.

Jake stirs, sensing your movements.

‘Oh, hey,’ his voice is deep and raspy, ‘when did you get in?’

‘Few minutes ago,’ you whisper, ‘didn’t expect to come back to the most adorable looking nap ever.’

Jake smiles, ‘didn’t even mean to go to sleep. I guess we played too hard.’

‘I can tell by the mess in the living room.’

‘Shit, sorry baby. I’ll clean it in the morning.’

‘It’s okay. As long as you had a good day.’

The two of you are quiet for a few moments.

‘She’s just the best, isn’t she?’ Jake practically has heart eyes as he looks at her, ‘she’s growing up so beautifully. But I wish she’d slow down a little bit.’

‘I know. One more year and she’ll be starting school.’

Jake looks almost wounded, ‘nah, she’s not allowed to leave me. We will stay at home and play Barbie Dreamhouse until she’s eighteen.’

You laugh, but Jake looks genuinely dejected.

‘It’s okay, Jakey,’ you rest a hand on his arm, ‘she’ll always be your little girl. Her growing up is just a part of life.’

‘I know,’ he sighs, ‘I just- I miss when she was a little baby.’

‘Me too,’ you admit, ‘but I must say, she’s much more entertaining now.’

Jake grins, and a few more moments pass before he shakily asks you a question.

‘Do you want to have another baby?’

You lift your head up, ‘what, now?’

‘Yeah, is that so crazy? I just keep thinking about cuddling a little baby. When I’m with Ella I just imagine what she’d be like as a big sister, how she would interact with the baby. I miss the tiny clothes, the baby smell, even being up all night..’

You mull over his words, remembering that newborn bubble you had with Ella.

‘Okay,’ you hum.

‘Really?’ Jake looks ecstatic, ‘we’re going to try?’

‘I’ll make a doctors appointment in the morning.’

‘Amazing,’ he beams, ‘I love you. I love you and Ella so so so much.’

‘We love you too,’ you twirl Ella’s hair between your fingers.

‘Maybe we should put her in her own bed?’ Jake suggests, conscious that it’s now past her bedtime.

‘Nah, let’s let her sleep here tonight. Just this once.’

‘Alright,’ Jake kisses the back of her head, ‘goodnight my babies.’

566 notes · View notes

deliciousangelfestival · 4 months ago

Text

The Imperfect Couple - 11

Character: politician!Bucky x ex-wife!reader

Summary: A separated couple must pretend to be happily married while the husband runs for Vice President, dealing with old issues and political pressures during his election campaign.

Warning: The couple's arguments could be triggering.

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 , Chapter 6 , Chapter 7 , Chapter 8 , Chapter 9 , Chapter 10 , Chapter 11 , Chapter 12 , Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

As Bucky stood in front of you, his expression calm, like everything was normal, a surge of anger rose within you. After everything that had just happened—after he spilled details of your private life to the press—you couldn’t believe he had the audacity to act like it meant nothing.

"You thought that telling the press about our marriage would magically make everyone stay quiet? That we’d just be OK?" Your voice was sharp, cutting through the air like a blade. You watched as his jaw tightened, but he didn’t answer.

"And now… you’re still keeping secrets." You shook your head, frustration and disbelief coursing through you. "Now it’s about Steve."

Bucky's eyes flickered with something—guilt, maybe. He hesitated for a moment, then spoke coldly, "About that. I will bring it to my grave."

His words hit you harder than any blow could have. You stepped closer, heart pounding in your chest, barely able to control the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside. "Your grave? That’s your answer?"

You laughed bitterly, though there was no humor in it. "How dare you stand there and act like that’s acceptable? How dare you think you can keep doing this—lying, manipulating, keeping me in the dark—just because you think you’re protecting me?"

Bucky’s eyes narrowed, but he stayed silent. That silence only fueled your anger further.

"You think I don’t know what you’re doing? You’re so used to pulling the strings, making decisions behind everyone’s back, and pretending like it’s all for the greater good. But you’re not saving anyone, Bucky. Least of all me." Your voice cracked, and you hated yourself for it—hated how much you still cared, despite everything.

He opened his mouth, but you didn’t let him speak.

"You think after everything I’ve been through with your family, with Steve, that I don’t deserve the truth? That I’m just supposed to trust you after everything you’ve done to me? After you let them destroy me?" Your voice rose, the pain spilling out of you like a flood that had been held back for far too long.

"You didn’t protect me then, and you’re not protecting me now. You're protecting yourself. Because you're scared. You're scared that once I know the whole truth, I’ll finally be done with you."

Bucky’s face was set in stone, but you could see the cracks forming. His silence was loud, deafening, but you weren’t done. You weren’t letting him get away with it this time.

"You think I’m stupid enough to believe that this—whatever this is—is love? You control everything. You manipulate everything around you so that you never have to feel like you’re losing. But you are, Bucky." You stepped back, your chest rising and falling with the weight of everything you were saying. "You’re losing me. Every secret you keep, every lie you tell, you’re pushing me further away."

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The room felt too small, the air too thick. Bucky’s fists clenched at his sides, but still, he didn’t say a word.

"I’m glad I never got pregnant," you whispered, voice shaking. "I’m glad I never brought a child into this—into your mess. Because no child deserves to grow up with a father like you."

That was the final blow, and you saw it hit him like a punch to the gut. His eyes darkened, and for the first time, Bucky seemed truly shaken. But even then, he said nothing.

The silence between you stretched, unbearable, suffocating. You turned away from him, the weight of your words still hanging in the air, and walked out. Neither of you said anything as you left the room, but you both knew that something had broken between you—something that might never be fixed.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

As the door closed behind you, Bucky stood frozen, your words reverberating through his mind like the relentless echo of a nightmare. "I'm glad I never got pregnant."

That one sentence hit him harder than any punch he'd ever taken, harder than any bullet wound or battle scar. It was as if you had found the one part of him still vulnerable, still aching—the part he had tried so hard to protect—and you had driven a dagger straight into it.

The idea of building a family with you had always been his greatest hope, even if he had never said it out loud. He had pictured it in quiet moments, in the silence of the night when his thoughts wandered. A future with you—a family. The idea of you carrying his child, of starting something new and pure with you, had always been a flicker of light in the darkness that consumed him.

But now, that light was gone.

The bitterness of your words seeped into him, mixing with the sour taste of guilt that had been festering inside him for years. He clenched his fists, staring at the space where you had stood, feeling the weight of everything he had done—or failed to do—crushing down on him.

You’re losing me. Every secret you keep, every lie you tell, you’re pushing me further away.

He had never meant for it to be this way. He had convinced himself, again and again, that the lies, the manipulation, the control—it was all to protect you. To keep you safe from the chaos of his world. But in doing so, he had become the very thing that was destroying you. He was supposed to shield you, to be your safe haven, and yet here you were, crumbling before him because of his choices.

But you are, Bucky. You’re losing me.

The thought of losing you—of you walking away from him for good—was unbearable. He had always believed that no matter what happened, he could somehow fix things, that he could make you see that everything he did, he did out of love. But now, standing in the aftermath of your fury, he realized that he had underestimated just how deep the damage went.

The one dream that had kept him grounded—the thought of a family, a future with you—was now tainted. What was once a vision of hope and happiness now felt sour, like something spoiled and irreparable. The idea of a family with you, once so precious and sacred in his heart, now felt like a bitter reminder of all the ways he had failed you.

And the worst part? He knew it was his fault. He had driven you to this point, pushed you to the edge with his secrets and his selfishness. He had always told himself he was doing it for you, but now he saw the truth: it had been for him. He was terrified of losing control, terrified of losing you, and in trying to hold on too tightly, he had begun to suffocate the very thing he cherished most.

Bucky swallowed hard, the taste of regret sharp on his tongue. He had always been good at compartmentalizing his feelings, at shoving his pain deep down where it couldn’t touch him. But not this time. This time, there was no escaping the ache. The words you had thrown at him had hit their mark with deadly precision, and there was no denying the truth in them.

His Achilles' heel—his desire to build a family with you, to have a life with you—was now the source of his deepest pain. And as much as he wanted to believe he could fix it, that he could win you back, a cold, bitter part of him knew that it might be too late.

For the first time, Bucky felt something he hadn’t in a long time: true helplessness. The kind that gnawed at his chest, leaving a hollow ache behind.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

After the heated argument with Bucky, you retreated to your room, feeling the weight of the conversation bearing down on you. The tension between you two was suffocating, and you needed to escape—if only for a moment. Grabbing your phone, you called Greg.

“Is there an activity that doesn’t involve me being around Bucky?” you asked, your voice strained.

“After the recent debate, the two of you don’t have many joint schedules. You can pretty much do whatever you want,” Greg replied.

You sighed, staring at the ceiling. “What am I going to do?” you murmured to yourself, feeling utterly lost. Just then, your phone buzzed with a text from Hazel: ‘Can you babysit Nate for a while?’

A smile tugged at your lips, the tension momentarily lifting. Babysitting Nate felt like the perfect distraction. You quickly typed back: ‘Yes.’

An idea struck you. You decided to pick him up from school yourself, giving you something to occupy your mind. Arriving at the prestigious Catholic school, you were struck by its grandeur—stately brick buildings, perfectly manicured lawns, and an imposing church at the center of the campus. You shouldn’t have been surprised; of course, Nate would attend a place like this, surrounded by privilege and tradition.

As you walked through the campus, the sound of bells ringing faintly in the background, your eyes fell on the old church. Its large wooden doors stood open, inviting anyone seeking solace. You hadn’t set foot inside a church in years, and now, as you watched parents filtering in to pray, something stirred within you.

Your gaze shifted to a woman who emerged from a confessional booth, her face serene. She’d just finished her confession, and for some reason, that simple act gripped you. A sudden, overwhelming urge came over you.

Before you knew it, you were standing inside the dimly lit church, walking down the aisle toward the confessional. You hesitated for a moment, staring at the closed wooden door of the confessional booth, your heart pounding in your chest. Then, with a deep breath, you stepped inside and knelt down.

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned,” you began, your voice shaky. “It’s been five years since my last confession.”

The priest’s gentle voice echoed through the screen. “Go on, child.”

You took a breath, gathering your thoughts. “I don’t even know where to start. The first thing I need to confess is what my ex-husband—no, my husband—has done to me. All this time, I thought I was free. I thought I’d divorced him, that I was my own person again. But it turns out he never finalized the papers. For five years, I’ve believed I was single. And now… now I find out I’m still married to him.” A bitter laugh escaped your lips. “Isn’t that just the cruelest joke?”

You could hear the priest listening in silence, giving you space to speak.

“The worst part is, he lied to me. He kept this truth from me for years, letting me live in ignorance. I feel like such a fool. And now… he’s forced me into this agreement. A contract, of sorts. One year, he says. One year, and then we’ll officially be divorced. I can’t forgive him for this, for manipulating me into this situation.”

Your hands balled into fists as you spoke, your voice trembling. “He’s changed. I don’t like it. He used to be someone I trusted, but now he’s nothing but a man pulling strings behind the scenes, controlling everything.”

The anger surged through you, but beneath it, something else was there—something you didn’t want to acknowledge.

“I hate myself for agreeing to help him, for pretending like everything’s fine when it’s not. I’m exhausted from lying to myself, from keeping up appearances just to spite his mother. And what’s worse… I still care about him. After everything he’s done, part of me still cares.”

The priest’s voice was calm, gentle. “Child, do you want to quit? To walk away from this?”

You sat there in silence for a moment, your heart heavy with indecision. “No,” you finally whispered, the word almost surprising you. “No, I don’t.”

A bitter laugh escaped your lips again. “It’s funny, Father. I’ve always had this strong instinct to run. Whenever I’ve felt like I needed to get out, to escape a situation, that instinct has never failed me. But now? Now I don’t understand. I could've run. I could've leave him, but…”

The priest’s voice cut through your rambling thoughts. “What feelings do you have now?”

You swallowed hard, the word slipping out before you could stop it. “Stay.”

The silence in the booth seemed to echo that single word. You could feel tears prickling at your eyes, the conflict inside you tearing you apart. “I don’t understand it. Every night, when I’m alone, I think about leaving him, and yet, something inside me tells me to stay. I don’t know why.”

The priest spoke softly, a sense of wisdom in his words. “There is a reason for everything, child. But the answer may not be clear to you yet. You must trust in God’s timing.”

“God’s timing,” you repeated, the words feeling foreign in your mouth.

“It’s no coincidence that you are here today,” the priest continued. “There is a purpose to everything, even when we cannot see it clearly. Trust that God is working in your life, even through your confusion and pain.”

“A purpose?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m not sure I understand.”

“Sometimes, we are placed in situations not for our own understanding, but to fulfill a greater plan. The burdens you carry now may reveal a deeper truth in time.”

You nodded, feeling a strange sense of calm wash over you, even as the conflict within you remained.

The priest offered a simple prayer for guidance and peace, his voice soft and steady.

You whispered, “Amen,” making the sign of the cross as tears silently streamed down your face.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

After confessing, you stepped out of the confessional booth, feeling an unexpected lightness in your shoulders, as though the weight you'd been carrying for years had been lifted, if only for a moment. A faint smile touched your lips, the tension easing. Then, you heard the bell ring—its echo followed by the excited chatter of children ready to go home.

You waited near the entrance, looking out for Nate, but as minutes passed, he still hadn’t appeared. A sense of worry started to creep in. You scanned the crowd of children, but there was no sign of him. Your footsteps quickened as you walked around, the knot in your stomach tightening.

Then, you heard it—a familiar giggle. You followed the sound and froze. Nate was hanging in midair, swinging by his arms as two tall boys, older than him, held him up at the playground.

And then you saw him. Steve Rogers.

You blinked in disbelief, dumbfounded. What is he doing here?

The two boys—tall, blonde, and strikingly familiar—were clearly the Rogers twins, Steve’s sons. Both carried a mix of Steve and Peggy's features, but Steve's strong genes dominated; their blonde hair and sharp jawlines were unmistakably his.

An unsettled feeling stirred in your chest. There was something about those twins that always made you uneasy, though you couldn't quite pinpoint why. And what were high school boys doing, playing with a first-year elementary kid?

“Aunty!” Nate’s cheerful voice snapped you out of your thoughts. He had noticed you before you could even call out to him. He wriggled free from the boys and sprinted toward you, his small arms reaching out.

Your heart swelled as he hugged you tightly. Compared to the rest of the Barnes family, being with Nate always felt like a breath of fresh air.

“I missed you,” Nate said, his face beaming up at you.

How could your heart not melt at that?

Before you could respond, the Rogers twins greeted you politely, “Hello, Mrs. Barnes.”

You smiled at them, though unease lingered. “Hi, William. Hi, Charles.”

“You still remember us?” William asked, his voice surprisingly mature.

“Of course. And both of you are so kind, playing with Nate,” you replied, though your eyes remained cautious.

“Well, our families are close partners,” Charles added, patting Nate gently on the head. “And our dad told us to be good role models for this champ.”

“Hehe,” Nate giggled, not fully understanding but clearly enjoying being called a champion.

“See you, buddy,” the twins said in unison, giving Nate a fist bump before heading toward their car.

Then Steve approached you, his expression a mix of surprise and something else, as if he hadn’t expected to see you here.

“Hey,” he greeted, his voice calm but with a hint of hesitation.

“Hey,” you replied, crossing your arms instinctively, keeping a certain distance.

Steve glanced at you and then down at Nate, who was busy looking through his backpack. “How are things with you and Bucky?”

Your lips curled into a wry smile. “Sinking ship.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “Titanic?”

Before you could respond, Nate, ever the sharp listener, jumped in. “Titanic?” he repeated, drawing a laugh from Steve.

"He's a ray of sunshine." Steve chuckled softly and patted Nate’s head in that gentle, fatherly way that almost made you pause. It seemed that in your absence, Steve had grown closer to Nate, filling in a role you hadn’t even realized was vacant.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

As you sat in the car with Nate, the bond between you felt like a warmth you hadn’t experienced in a long time. Nate chatted excitedly beside you, his small hands gesturing animatedly as he talked about how happy he was to stay with you.

“Aunty, I missed you so much! It’s been forever,” he said, his smile infectious. “And guess what? I get to stay with Uncle Bucky too!”

Your heart ached a little at the mention of Bucky, but Nate’s joy overrode it, at least for the moment.

“Yeah?” you replied, brushing a hand through Nate’s hair. “That sounds fun.”

Nate nodded eagerly, and then you remembered the twins. “So, those boys—William and Charles—how do you know them?”

“Oh! I met them on my birthday,” Nate said with excitement. “They and Uncle Steve gave me huge presents. It was so cool!”

“Wow, that’s amazing,” you said, trying to match his enthusiasm.

“Yeah, since then, I’ve had two big brothers,” Nate added with a proud grin. “I always wanted a big brother—or a little brother—or even a little sister,” he said, his tone wistful. “I asked Mom, but she said no.”

He sighed, and you chuckled softly. The memory of meeting Hazel while she was pregnant came to mind. Back then, no one knew who Nate’s father was. Hazel had always kept her lips sealed, refusing to speak about it.

You recalled the heated arguments between Hazel and Caroline. Once, you overheard Hazel snapping, “I already continued the bloodline. I’ve done my duty. I don’t want to get married. Period.”

You had admired her strength, but it also made you realize just how complicated everything had become.

Thinking back, you realized you had never heard of Hazel being in a relationship. With her status and career, she could have any man she wanted. But why was she so close with the Rogers family? What made Steve and the twins come to play with Nate after school?

A curious thought crossed your mind. Could Steve and Hazel have… No, you shook your head, dispelling that notion. It was impossible.

But the curiosity clawed at you. You turned to Nate, your brow furrowed. “Do Uncle Steve and the twins always play with you?”

Nate nodded enthusiastically. “Yes! Uncle Steve stood beside me when the doctor injected me,” he said, lifting his sleeve to show you the sore spot on his arm. “Ouchie!”

You chuckled, leaning over to blow gently on the spot, making him giggle. The sound was infectious, yet it tugged at something deeper within you, a swell of guilt rising as you wished you had kept your curiosity in check. Your instincts were telling you something else entirely.

No matter how close family friends could be, it seemed unlikely that someone like Steve would take the time to accompany Nate for his vaccination. Unless…

Nate's eyes sparkled with excitement as he leaned closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Oh, and he bought me ice cream and pizza! This is a secret, Aunty.” He glanced around, making sure no one was eavesdropping, his expression filled with mischief.

You chuckled, unable to resist his infectious enthusiasm. “That sounds cool!”

Nate nodded vigorously, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet. “And the big brothers always ask me to watch them play basketball. They’re so cool!” He raised his arms, mimicking a jump shot, his little face lighting up with joy.

You smiled, “Sounds like a blast.”

“My favorite part is after the game,” he continued, his eyes wide with memory. “We always watch movies and eat caramel popcorn. It’s delicious!” He rubbed his belly dramatically, as if savoring the taste all over again.

“Does Uncle Steve also join in watching movies?” you asked, raising an eyebrow, hoping your instincts were wrong. Your heart raced slightly, and you felt a knot tightening in your stomach at the thought.

“Yes!” Nate replied, his enthusiasm unabated. He practically bounced with joy, his small fists clenched as he hopped in place.

You sighed, feeling a frustration bubbling up. Gosh, you hated your overactive imagination and your inability to suppress your investigative instincts.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

When you arrived home, Bucky was already there. As you stepped inside, he stood up, his expression shifting from surprise to something softer at the sight of you. But before he could speak, Nate rushed forward and hugged him tightly, the excitement radiating off the little boy.

“Uncle Bucky!” Nate exclaimed, squeezing him. Bucky’s face lit up with genuine happiness, and he leaned down, pressing a kiss to Nate's head.

“Hey there, champ,” Bucky replied, his voice warm and inviting.

“I have to wash my hands and feet first!” Nate announced, darting off toward the bathroom.

With Nate out of the room, the atmosphere shifted, leaving you and Bucky alone. An awkward tension settled between you, thick enough to cut with a knife. Bucky rubbed the back of his neck, the motion betraying his unease.

“Uhm…” he began, searching for words, his gaze flicking away as if he were weighing his options.

Before he could finish his thought, you interrupted, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. “What made you want to support a liar like Steve?”

His eyes widened, surprise mingling with a flicker of something else—was it defensiveness? Confusion? The air crackled with unspoken questions, and you felt the tension deepen, a mystery hanging between you, waiting to be unraveled.

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headlinerkwan · 7 months ago

Text

for us - c.sc

pairing - bestfriend!seungcheol x gn!reader

genre - nonidol!au, f2l, fluff, comfort, a bit of angst, knightinshiningarmour!seungcheol, reader and seungcheol are whipped for each other but too dumb to realise.

summary - waking up the next morning in your childhood home, unanswered questions and glances that last a little too long leave you questioning your feelings for your best friend.

warnings - profanity, discussions of mental health

wc: 2.2k

a/n - this is part two of my fic 'for now'. i recommend reading part one first!! lmk what you think about part 2 (ᵔ.ᵔ)

requests: open <33

taglist - open!! comment or send an ask to be added ✩

You wake up the next morning to the golden sunlight streaming through your window, kissing your skin warmly. Your childhood bedroom smells like a bittersweet blend of home and naive dreams, it is a place that you’ve both longed for and loathed since you became an adult- wait. Your childhood bedroom…the events of last night come flooding back to you… shit.

Sitting up quickly you look around your empty room.

Where the fuck is Seungcheol?

Feeling disorientated at best, you decide that following the soft music playing in the kitchen would probably give you the best chance of finding him or, at least, gaining some sort of clarity. Your foggy morning brain leads you into your parents lounge, the soft glow of a lamp inviting you into the room.

That's where you find him, sitting comfortably on the couch, reading one of your father’s books like this is his home, like this is the most natural thing he’s ever done. His hair is a perfect mess, red undertones from past dye jobs revealing itself under the light, flowing perfectly as he runs his hand through his hair and his bare face glows under the morning sun. You think you could watch him all day if he’d let you.

“Y/Nnie” he calls, leaping to his feet with the sweetest smile adorning his face. God, how can someone be so-

“Are you okay? How do you feel?” He asks, interrupting your train of thought, you don’t even get the chance to answer him before his arms are wrapping around you, bringing you against his chest as his face finds solace in the crook of your neck. Whilst his sudden embrace takes you by surprise at first, your heart jumping, you can't help but melt into him, his warmth enveloping you and his cologne calming your nerves immediately. The way your bodies are intertwined it's difficult not to think that maybe…just maybe, you and Seungcheol are made for eachother - two halves making a whole.

After a beat of comfortable silence, you gently lift your head away from him. “Cheol..” you whisper, he responds with a mumbled confirmation that he’s listening, “...I’m sorry”.

He lifts his head rapidly then, concern painted across his face as his eyes meet yours. “Why? What do you have to be sorry about sweet?”. His arms are still wrapped around you, his thumb gently caressing your forearm as you stare up at him, tears welling quietly in your eyes.

“That you’re here. That you drove here, through the night, just because I was-”

He cuts you off.

“You have nothing to be sorry about. I promise. This is nothing, I’ll do this a thousand times, I’ll do anything for you. You know that right?”

Despite your guilt, you can’t help but smile at him, his words so sincere, his eyes so full of love. You nod slowly, of course you know - you’d do the same for him, and he pulls you back into an embrace, holding you against his chest as he kisses your head softly before resting his head on top of yours.

“Why?” you question after a while, your words muffled slightly against the fabric of his t-shirt. You feel him take a deep breath, preparing his response.

“Because…”

“Because what?”

“I’ll tell you later sweet, can we just… stay like this for a while” he says quietly, holding you tighter in his warm embrace.

⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹

Seungcheol's POV

He could stay like this forever. You in his arms, sweet and delicate, he can’t shake the feeling that this is where he’s meant to be - by your side. Of course he would drive through the night for you, he thinks, of course he would carry you to your bed, of course he would sleep on your bedroom floor in case you needed him because well… he loved you.

He’d loved you for three years, he’d shown you in every way he could think of, except through words. He could never quite bring himself to tell you. He had tried, God had he tried, but the words were always caught in his throat, the fear of the unknown silencing him from telling you the truth. Everything in him wanted to tell you, wanted to shout from the rooftops that he loves you, that you’re beautiful.

That you’re everything to him.

To him, you are the sun, the rain, the clouds. To him, you are a gentle spring breeze, a late summer sunset, you are fresh coffee in the morning and a warm meal at dinner. To him, you are everything good in the world, big and small. You are his favourite song, his favourite place, his best memory, his future.

But how could he tell you? How can he put into words everything that you are? And if he does? If he does and it ruins your friendship? If he does and he loses you? If he does and you love him too? What then?

He takes a deep breath and decides to try and forget about it for now. His problems are not important right now - you are.

“So sweet, are you gonna give me the exclusive Y/N tour of your hometown or are you gonna leave me looking for breakfast like a lost puppy?”

His heart is happy as you chuckle lightly against his chest, looking at him with your doe eyes before grabbing his hand and tugging him towards the door.

⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹

The day you spend together walking around your hometown can be described as nothing less than happy. You had mentioned before leaving about the small size of your sleepy town, that there wasn’t really much to do but it’s clear that doesn’t matter as you and Seungcheol fill the hours with conversation, laughs and smiles. It’s easy with him, comfortable, smooth, but still exciting. Maybe it’s too easy because, before you realise it, the sun is setting over the town square.

“Should we head back soon?” Seungcheol asks, his brown eyes are golden caramel in the sunlight, the breeze flowing gently through his hair. You reach up cautiously to move some of the hair out of his eyes, unsure of how he will react but, his eyes flutter shut as he smiles gently, an expression of gratitude. “Can we stay for a bit? Just until the sun goes down, it’s beautiful I promise” you plead. “Well if you say it’s beautiful then I guess I’ll have to check it out for myself” he replies cheekily, his mouth curling slightly.

Turning away from him to watch the sun, you freeze as he stands behind you, resting his head on your shoulder, and wrapping his arms around you. A million thoughts are running through your head, all of them about him, and your heart beats faster as he leans against you. But then, he takes your hand, interlocking your fingers with his, drawing patterns on your skin with his thumb and suddenly everything is quiet, peaceful. It’s just you and Seungcheol and everything is okay.

⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹

The sun has almost disappeared behind the horizon by the time you find the courage to ask him if he’ll answer your question from this morning.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to” you reassure him, “It’s just that, I don’t know, sometimes I can’t help but wonder what goes on in your mind. I can see it in your face that look you get when you’re stressed or thinking too hard and… I just want to be there and help you with it but if I don’t know then I-”

“I love you” He replies nonchalantly. It takes you off guard but it’s nothing new, friends tell each other that they love each other everyday.

You chuckle as you reply, still watching the sunset “I love you too but-”

“No Y/N, I love you. I’m in love with you.” He states, taking a deep breath.

You feel your stomach flip at your best friend’s words. What the fuck? Surely you didn’t hear that right. There’s no way Seungcheol loves you. Not in that way. Not in the way that you love him. Right?

You turn around to face him, his hands still sitting carefully on your waist. “Sorry, what?” you question, a nervous shake in your voice whilst you search his eyes for answers.

“I’m in love with you.” He says with soft eyes, biting his cherry lips as he attempts to read your body language, “I think I’ve loved you since that first week, I couldn’t take my eyes off of you, I didn’t know then, I just knew I had to know you, I needed you in my life.”

You can hardly believe the words leaving his mouth, you can hardly believe it’s him stood before you, you can hardly believe he loves you.

“Seungcheol.” you mutter gently as he nervously rambles. He pauses, eyes scanning your face for anything that will tell him what you’re thinking, nothing.

“Yes?”

“Stop talking.”

You move closer to him, closing the gap between you, your faces millimetres apart. His features are illuminated by the glow of twilight as you meet his eyes. You inhale sharply as he hesitantly lifts his hand to gently caress your face. “Okay” he whispers, his breath tickling your lips gently.

Your eyes flick between his gentle eyes and full lips one last time before your mouths crash into each other. It’s cautious at first, nervous, but you gradually find a gentle rhythm. His free hand finds your lower back, bringing you as close as possible to him as your arms rest on his shoulders. His soft lips kiss you back like you are the most delicate thing in the universe, he tastes sweet and warm. This is something you didn’t know you needed but now that you have it, you’re not sure if you’ll be able to live without it, without him.

Soon gentle kisses become driven by passion, you are both hungry as you chase the other for more, for closeness, for love. As your fingers tangle slightly in his hair, he nips your bottom lip gently before kissing away the delicious pain and falling back into your new rhythm with roaming hands and heavy breath.

It is only when a car alarm blares nearby that the two of you are thrown back into reality. Seungcheol leans his forehead against yours as you giggle. He takes your hands, not daring to take his eyes off of you and places a gentle peck on your cheek. So many emotions are exchanged in every movement made; relief, happiness, nerves, excitement, love.

“The sun’s gone” you point out after a moment. Seungcheol nods, he knows it’s time for both of you to go back to the city but he sure as hell is not going to be the one to take either of you out of this moment.

A comfortable silence falls over you whilst you watch people mill around your town’s square, some you recognise as old acquaintances, teachers, coworkers. You think about potential inside jokes you may have had with them or any fun facts about them but to no avail, the people of your hometown have become ghosts, lost to the past. So you stand with Seungcheol and just watch, his hand finds yours and you lean your head against his shoulder.

You stand watching your past, hand-in-hand with your future.

⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹

You are stood next to Seungcheol’s car waiting for him to unlock it so you can load in a bag of food your mother had given to you. He appears from around the corner, car keys in hand, running towards you just like he had on the night of the carnival, with bright eyes and a wide grin. Except this time it was different. This time you knew what that look meant, he wasn’t just happy to see his friend, he was happy to see you - the person he loved.

Placing the bags into the back of his car, you make an exaggerated show of strength, huffing and heaving as you lift the light bags onto the back seat before walking towards the passenger seat, flexing your biceps as you feign exhaustion.

Opening the door for you, Seungcheol laughs at your dramatics, “You’re so weird”.

As he climbs into the driver’s seat and closes the door, you pout at him, pretending to be upset at his comment. “Wowww, that’s so mean! Damn, and I thought you loved me.” you remark as you jokingly shake your head.

He giggles and takes your hand, turning to look at you. “Sooo dramatic! You’re the good kind of weird, don’t worry sweet." You chuckle quietly and squeeze his hand in response.

After a beat, you speak up again.

“I might be the bad kind of weird too. Is that okay?”

There is a heaviness in your voice that makes him frown slightly and, when your eyes avoid his, he places his hand on your jaw, soft eyes finding yours.

“I love all your weird” He says gently “I’ll take as much of you as I can get, the good and the bad.” Scanning your face he adds “For you, anything, always.”

He places chaste kisses all over your face until you’re smiling again, pulling him to meet your lips this time, he smiles into you and, with his sweet lips against yours, you are at peace.

For us, anything, always.

⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹

taglist:@caaaptaaainamericaaa @gyuguys

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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 7 months ago

Text

Yandere Hitman // Accident

Imagine you wake up tied to a chair ducktape over your mouth and the weight of gravity weighing on your chest. Finally gaining your bearings you realize you are haphazardly hanging from a rickety-looking bridge above a raging river by a man in a black compression shirt a bored look on his face and a phone to his ear. You don’t try to struggle only watching wide-eyed as you hope this Hitman doesn’t drop you

“Really…the wrong one? Fine, I’ll figure it out.”

Breathing is so much easier when he pulls you from the edge with one hand by the way. He doesn’t untie you sighing exasperatedly while running a hand through his hair. Finally, he takes the ducktape off your mouth waving off your barrage of questions.

“Look things happened and I was supposed to kill someone who looks a lot like you but not.”

“So you're a hitman and you made a mistake?”

“Yup.”

“Are you going to kill me for knowing you then?”

“I don’t have to.”

“Then can I go home?”

“Er no.”

“Because I’m going to talk?”

“No more like you wouldn’t be able to get into the country anyway.”

Turns out the hitman who happened to target you was incredibly too thorough and ended up burning your ID, crafting up a reasonable missing persons case for you, and making it hard for you to do anything in the country that you can’t properly even find on a map. So to combat the absolute mess of having to go through all the legalese and interrogation you’d go through to get back to your life he comes up with his solution.

“How about you just stay with me? I’ve got more than enough room.”

And he does. It's a place that’s like a small castle, he reasons it’s best that you just help clean the place and maybe make a meal or two. You accept not that you had any other choice at this point so he’ll untie you and take you there. Wherever this backwater country is he’s got a home filled with villagers who are happy to care for it. And in a language you don’t recognize they celebrate it when he brings you home, cheering and excitedly holding your hands. He can’t help but laugh at you while you try to figure things out.

“Hey! What was she saying before?”

“You really shouldn’t just blindly nod to what people are saying. That’s what gets you in trouble.”

“What else am I supposed to do?! She was smiling so wide it must’ve been something nice, right?”

“Hahaha, you're hopelessly adorable.”

When this Hitman is not sitting around laughing at you or mistranslating your requests, he’s not so bad. As the only one who understands what you’re saying and can actually respond to you in a rewarding way. Dismissing that he ruined your everyday life, he’s decent company usually smirking to himself while he makes fun of whatever you're doing.

“That hat is way too big for you and so are your clothes. It’s kinda cute.”

“It’s not cute! For whatever reason nobody will give me anything other than your clothes it’s really inconvenient.”

“How do you know they're mine?”

“Because they smell like–”

“Awwww are you smelling me in your free time (Y/n)?”

“NO! Wait it’s just an observation—”

“Ewww so perverted (Y/n)~”

When he’s not around to mess with you, he’s off to work. Wearing those same tight-fitted pants he did when you first woke up. It’s…a little sad sometimes. He is the only one you can easily communicate with but you manage to enjoy the thousands of books he has in his home, hang out with the kittens of the farm, and slowly but surely get a grasp on the language all the villagers speak. Maybe one day you can surprise him by being able to call him out the next time he tries to humiliate you to the villagers. It certainly keeps you occupied from thinking about going home anytime soon.

“That’s another body in the ground. Where’s my money?”

The hitman once again casually dismembers another target for his client, taking a quick picture before hurrying to the store. You did say you were a fan of a certain gaming system, he’s got more than enough to spend now that he’s completed another job. Not that he really needed to that amount he had could very well pay for the entire lives of generations to come. That is if he hasn’t budgeted for a luxurious life with you.

“Mmm, which one should I get? Hmm?”

“Oh, are you interested in some of our AAA titles?”

“Not for me but for my partner….I’m just worried they’ll leave me and our kids out while playing.”

“Well if you like we have some lighthearted multiplayer games.”

“That’s perfect!”

He does plan as though you already have kids. He doesn’t need to know if you two will conceive with him or adopt but it doesn’t matter it’s happening. Because to him, you two are already bound to be happily married—all according to his plan. He’s just glad it’s going off so far without a hitch.

“Hi I’m back!”

“Welcome welcome hope everything went well for you chief!”

“How are their studies coming?”

“Decent but they’ll never fully be able to grasp the codes, just as you planned.”

“Perfect. (Y/n) they’re saying you should be the one to massage me this time.”

“What?! There is no way they said that.”

Your hitman’s greatest power is his nonchalant attitude. It’s what allows you to accept that it was his carelessness that led to you being targeted in the first place. It’s what have you not looking twice when ‘the villager’ demands you both feed each other. It might take a while before you fully become the you–he envisioned in his plans but he can wait.

After all your hitman’s waited this long. He doesn’t mind waiting a little more.

“Don’t think too much and let’s just let fate that I’ve chosen decide.”

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loafgeto · 1 year ago

Text

PLEASE TAKE CARE OF ME

gojo satoru x fem!reader

synopsis: your boyfriend is sick, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t horny.

contents: fem!reader, explicit language, clingy/needy satoru, suguru’s entrance at the end, NSFW, dirty talk, dry humping(??), cockwarming, unprotected sex, creampie, orgasm, squirting, markings, not proofread

word count: 2.8k

notes: not me being sick at the same time😭😭

“102.3… gosh, satoru, how did you even get this fever? you were fine yesterday,” you utter speechlessly, observing the number on the thermometer before glancing down at your boyfriend, who’s panting softly while keeping an arm over his eyes. satoru groans, unable to answer since he didn’t even know how he got it himself.

“i-i don’t know..” satoru’s head was aching, and he was burning all over. you draped him in a hoodie and sweats, while the comforter covered his entire lower body. “it’s too hot..” he groans, pushing the collar of the hoodie down to feel some cool air brush against the skin of his neck. satoru indicated that he wants the garment off, but you remove his hand away and sigh.

“you need a lot of rest,” you remind, reaching for the towel damped with tepid water and placing it on his forehead. “there’s several water bottles next to you if you need it, remember you need to stay hydrated. i’ll be making some porridge for you. if you need anything, just holler for me.”

“babyyy, stay here- i don’t need all that,” satoru firmly grasps his hand around your wrist, refraining you from walking away. he was pouting, glassy eyes staring up at you like he’d break any moment. “yes, you do. don’t give me that look,” you furrow your brows as you gently push your arm away.

“won’t you at least give me a kiss?” satoru blurts before you could turn around. you shake your head, patting his face before grinning. “hmm, maybe. but after you eat, i’ll consider it,” you reply, hoping it’d be assuring for him to stay put in his bed.

“fine,” he obliges, sinking back into the mattress and keeping himself warm even when his body was literally trembling and burning. you’d give him a kiss but you wouldn’t want the fever spreading onto you. since tomorrow, there was an important meeting you needed to attend, and getting sick was the last thing on your mind. “good boy,” you decide tease him before quickly slipping away.

“h-hey!” satoru’s body shoots up, eyes following your figure quickly heading towards the door. you stick your tongue out at him, making him realize you were just messing with him so that you could leave. oh gosh, the way you were dressed and how he hadn’t touched you in days was starting to bother him, very intently.

you enter his kitchen, humming a short tune while retrieving the ingredients to make a simple and warm porridge to help with his fever. satoru was barely home, so there never any food stored in his cabinet or fridge. well, that’s the strongest jujutsu sorcerer for you. what’s even more surprising is how he can get sick with a fever like this. strong my ass, you snicker. but all jokes aside, satoru is still a human being after all.

satoru normally his spent time at your place anyway, which is why his home is limited in several things. he had much bigger, luscious, and appealing house than yours, so why wouldn’t he want to be in here all of the time? you even thought about asking to live with him, since you two have been together for three years and it didn’t sound like a bad idea. and you were certain it’d be better since you could easily take care of him like this.

you can hear satoru cough from his room as you bring a pot to the stove. “satoru! do you want some tea and cough medicine?!” you holler to him, waiting for a response to which you didn’t receive. you shrug, deciding to brew tea for him anyway. this wasn’t your first time taking care of satoru while he’s sick— it was just so uncommon that you figured you’d never see the state again. but thankfully you’re still prepared with medicines and other medical supplies for these situations.

after you finished gathering all of the ingredients together, you decide to prepare congee porridge, since it’s simple and refreshing, especially for when you have an illness. with a smile on your face, you began following the directions of cooking the congee just like you remembered.

as you were beginning to cook the congee in the pot, you didn’t even realize the tall figure approaching behind of you. therefore, you couldn’t react in time before satoru wraps his arms around your lower body and pushes himself against your back. his mouth lowers near your neck and ear, making you feel the gentle breeze of his soft breath.

“s-satoru?!” you squeak, almost dropping the spoon you were using to stir the congee. you turn your head slightly, feeling the heat of his body absorbing into your skin, but he seems to be relaxing slightly. “what are you doing? you need to be in bed, now.”

“don’t wanna..” satoru replies in a low voice as his lips gently grazes against your shoulder. his needy touch nearly sends shivers down your spine, but you two couldn’t be doing this, not when he’s sick. “fuck, baby.. i need you.. s’bad.. don’t care if i’m sick.. please..” he whines, pressing himself closer to you.

“‘toru- wait, stop!” you gasp, pushing yourself back so that you wouldn’t counter the hot surface of the stove. you give satoru a firm glare, but he’s too distracted with his own arousal to even notice. “how are.. why are you-? satoru, please, we can’t. you need to go back to bed right now,” you add, sighing in between while trying to nudge him away.

“n-no.. can’t,” satoru groans, pressing his face into your neck. he was panting gently again, trying to inhale your scent and feel up against your soft skin. “‘ve been so needy for you..” he whispers and you can feel his erection poking your ass as he starts grinding his hips slowly.

“sa-satoru, wait-“ you bite your lips, trying to resist yourself. you need to remember that he’s sick, and that he needed all the rest and care he could get in order to feel better. but his clinginess and neediness, his little whines and pants desperately calling and seeking for your touch wasn’t helping at all. satoru could almost feel your hips pushing back against his, making a faint smirk appear on his lips.

“don’t you see that? your body’s already moving for ya, you want it too, don’t you?” satoru whispers, pressing gentle kisses behind your ear and down your neck. “satoru-“ a quiet moan leaves your lip, as you feel one of his hands trail towards your inner thighs.

you do, of course you want it, but you both can’t do it.

“can i put it in, baby? please? i won’t move at all, i promise. just wanna feel your warm pussy around me, please,” satoru begs, the material of his sweats already outlining the size and shape of his aching cock. “n-no.. satoru.. you can do everything else but just don’t put it in,” you reply, glancing at him and he just nods. you couldn’t believe you said yes instead of forcing him back to bed, but you couldn’t resist his short seduction.

satoru bends you over slightly, lifting the skirt of the dress you were wearing and starts grinding his hips slowly against your ass, pressing his bulge into the soaked spot of your panties. you held back your moans, returning your attention to the congee that was barely even cooking. it was hard to make sure the porridge was being cooked properly because of satoru’s movements and the sounds he was making.

“f-fuck.. i can feel how wet you are- ngh- i c-could cum any second,” satoru moans, pushing his head back slightly as his hands grip around the sides of your ass. he starts grinding his hips faster, rubbing his clothed cock against the wet material covering your cunt. he desperately wanted you to cockwarm him, even if his body was already too warm enough to handle. he just couldn’t resist anymore, but he’s got to now that he notices you cooking.

“‘t-toru, please- slow down,” you request, unable to hold your moans as he nudges and roughly grinds himself against your pussy. it felt so damn good, making you aroused as much as he is. “ssshit,” satoru moans, moving his hips faster after you told him to reduce his speed. just how can he slow down when you two are already like this?

“fuck baby- i can’t.. please just let me put it in. please,” satoru begs again, his cock grinding far into you that it was almost pushing through the fabric of your clothes and into your pussy. “please, baby? please take care of me down here too,” he whimpers, pleading in desperation as his fingers start gently tugging the material of your panties.

“okay- fine. you can put it in..” you nod, giving him a short glance and satoru’s face lights up. now, there was no turning back for you. would you regret this later? probably, but at the moment, you didn’t possibly care for the outcomes. “but no moving..”

satoru removes his hoodie before pushing his sweats and tight boxers down, freeing his hard cock that slaps against his lower abs. you bite down on your lower lips, gazing at the sight of your boyfriend’s fat dick about to be stuffed into you. satoru gives his cock several short and slow pumps, spreading his leaked pre-cum against the skin of your ass cheeks before moving your panties to the side and lining himself at your entrance.

he holds the sides of your hips again, groaning and pushing his cock past your folds and deep into your wet cunt. you breathe a short gasp, moaning instantly while your walls clench tightly around his girth. satoru nearly cums because of the sensation and warmth of your hole, and almost starts thrusting— but he remembers that he was just going to put it in, and nothing else.

“i-i still have to cook.. your porridge, satoru-“ you manage to slip out, feeling your gummy walls pulsate around his cock. satoru grunts, grip tightening around your hips as he nods his head. “i know.. but fuck- just keep letting me feel your warm pussy like this,” satoru replies, pushing the rest of his length into you.

your focus on the congee was short when you shift your hips back slightly, feeling satoru’s dick twitch inside as your ass knocks against his pelvic area. it was overbearing to be unable to rock back against him and feel his cock kiss your deepest parts— you’d be opposing your own words. you lower the heat of the stove, almost completely turning it off as you realize you’re probably not going to finish the porridge anytime soon.

“t-thought you said no moving?” satoru huffs, pouting before slightly pushing out and back in. you moan, shaking your head. “i did…” you reply, turning your head around and meeting his gaze. his blue eyes were glistening, full of lust that he was withholding. however, seeing your face was enough for satoru to start thrusting very slowly.

satoru’s sensual grazes against your walls was causing louder moans to stumble from your mouth. you grip around him, sucking in his cock as you can feel him penetrate your deepest parts with his steady motions. you had to turn off the stove completely before satoru pushes you against the kitchen counter, fastening his thrusts.

“n-ngh, satoru- wait-“ you mewl, gripping the edge of the counter as you glance back at his flushed face. but he didn’t even allow you to continue speaking as he hoists one of your thighs, hand tightening the fat and plunging his cock deeper into your cunt. “fuckfuck- you need to slow down-“ you choke out, quite appalled at how satoru even had this much energy in him to fuck you like this. it didn’t matter though, since you’re clearly enjoying it.

“shit baby, i-i wanna fuck your pussy forever. you feel- so damn good,” satoru chants, hips banging into your ass as his pants start becoming heavier. he forgot that he was even sick himself, his neediness for you was overwhelming to the point he thought about nothing except drilling his cock into you like this. “o-oh god, ‘toru- pleasepleaseplease~” you cry out, head falling forward as he ravages your swollen cunt.

“fuck- please forgive me, baby. i can’t hold myself back anymore,” satoru says before lowering his body over yours, arms entirely laced around your waist and lips meeting the skin of your shoulder blades as he’s now pounding into you. you’re both moaning messes, grinding your bodies and feeling each other’s warmth. you can feel satoru’s cock rubbing your g-spot and his heavy balls smack your folds as your arousal starts trickling down your inner thighs.

“sa-satoru~ i’m g’nna cum-“ you whine, pushing your ass back as he’s still thrusting, erratically and sloppy but rough that it’s causing you to reach your orgasm. satoru presses soft kisses on certain areas of your shoulder, bringing one hand down to stroke circles against your clit. the touch was nearly making your eyes roll back, and the contractions of your pussy tighter around him.

“ngh- yes baby, cum on this cock that’s s’needy for you,” satoru whimpers, using his tongue to lick the lobe of your ear. his body was becoming exhausted, but he’s greedy and desires to fill your womb with his thick and warm load. satoru craves the feel of your delicate skin and inner parts of your pussy that’s squeezing him dry, stimulating him to pound you faster.

you squint, the sockets of your eyes welling with hot tears that stream down your face each time you blinked. your fingertips jab into the hard surface of the kitchen counter and your legs become wobbly that it’s nearly difficult to maintain standing. satoru’s mouth kisses and licks each area of your skin that he could find, before gently biting down and nibbling the flesh. it’d probably leave red marks later, but your mind doesn’t necessarily think of the idea as you’re occupied with satoru’s cock still abusing your hole.

after satoru’s each passing hard thrusts, you cum all over him— sensations of pleasure pumping throughout your entire body from your orgasm. your ejaculation squirts on satoru’s thighs and drips to the ground, making your body tremble. satoru cums next, dipping several deep strokes into your cunt and groaning your name as his warm semen milks your womb full.

you both stand there for a long moment, breathing heavily while your bodies are still pressed close together. satoru keeps his cock in you, making sure that none of his cum drips out of you and kisses your neck in a soft manner. “thanks baby.. i feel better now,” he whispers by your ear, his tone enunciating his exhaustion.

“hey- don’t fall asleep on me now! we have to clean up,” you give him a slight glare as his head raises up. satoru pouts, before nodding and stepping back. he slips his cock out, immediately feeling odd with not having you clench around him.

satoru thought of something that nearly sent blood rushing to his dick and he gives you that one stare as you push your dress back over your ass. “can you suck me off?” satoru requests, eyes sparkling with the anticipation of you saying yes.

“no.”

“then what about my kiss?”

“no, satoru. you didn’t even eat the congee,” you reply firmly, feeling yourself quiver as his cum tries to drip out of you. but maybe your next words could encourage something, or not since you two needed to clean up. “go to the bathroom, i’ll meet you there and maybe i’ll give you a kiss.”

“a-achoo!”

suguru gives you a glance, brows raised as he lifts the folder in his hands between you and him like he’s trying to not catch whatever you have. “bless you. gosh, are you sure you’re okay? you’ve been sneezing so much and it’s only 10 in the morning,” he states.

“i’m fine, suguru. just allergies,” you reply with a shrug, knowing damn well where you’re getting this ‘allergy’ from. of course, suguru was skeptical but nodded his head as you two proceed down the hall.

the meeting was less than 20 minutes, and as suguru was speaking with several of the first year students, you quickly dart to your office and search for a thermometer in your desk.

“101.3,” you read out quietly, blinking several times. but who were you to be surprised?

you: look, i’m sick

you sent the message to satoru, along with a photo attachment of the thermometer that read your body temperature. and not even a minute later, he reads it and replies.

satoru <3: well, guess we should go for another round today then ;)

LOAFGETO. thank you for reading! please do not copy my work or publish in another media without my permission.

a/n: pls i want this cold to go away😭😭 if anyone’s sick rn, i hope you feel better quick <3 (likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! have a nice day)

#loafgeto #gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #gojo oneshot #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo x reader smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk gojo smut #anime smut #18+ minors dni #divider by cafekitsune

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tfwbluu · 22 days ago

Note

Can you please do what are Jake kinks? Like the one you did for Riki.

PAIRING — jake + f!reader

WARNINGS — bdsm, mirrors, breeding, it’s descriptive with some lines here and there, talking abt what his kinks could be but also not really ..? i don’t know ill let u decide

WORDCOUNT — 0.8K

NOTE — u guys are practically asking for almost all of enha kinks should i do jungwon and sunoo too. . . n e way not proofread so lmk if i need to add anything to the warnings ! happy new years everyone <3

He’d be the type to whine—a lot. Not your typical grunter, he’d get so sensitive, completely overwhelmed by the way your walls gripped him. Every thrust pulled needy sounds from his lips, his mewls and gasps filling the air as he lost himself in the feeling of you.

“Shit, princess, you’re so tight f’ me, ngh, sucking me in so good...” he muttered, his hips relentless against yours, focused solely on making you feel good.

He’d absolutely have a begging kink, both giving and receiving. When he’s the one begging, he’d be utterly desperate, pleading for your pussy like it’s the only thing that could satisfy him, his voice dripping with need.

“Please, baby, I’ll make you feel so good, just need your pussy so bad,” he’d whine, tugging at your waist as his lips left yearning kisses along your neck.

But when it’s your turn to beg? Oh, he’d make you work for it, dragging out the moment just to watch you squirm.

“Oh? You want more, princess?” he’d tease, his fingers brushing over your clothed cunt with maddening slowness. “Beg a little, and maybe I’ll indulge you,” he’d murmur, spreading your wetness around the delicate lace, a smug smirk tugging at his lips.

His oral fixation was undeniable—he couldn’t resist the urge to have his mouth on your skin, your boobs, or especially your pussy. It was as though tasting you soothed some deep, insatiable ache in him.

“Stay still, baby,” he murmured, gripping your thighs as he propped your legs on his shoulders. His tongue lapped hungrily at your folds, his lips slurping on your arousal. “Need more of you,” he groaned, the vibrations making you shiver.

He was relentless, a true pussy eater who took everything you gave and still craved more.

“Shit, baby,” he muttered, tilting his head to capture your release on his tongue. “Tastes so sweet,” he praised, before diving back in to devour you, his mouth hungry for more of your addictive sweetness.

“One more, baby. Just give me one more, I know you can,” he pleaded, looking up at you with soft, puppy-dog eyes as his tongue traced delicate circles over your sensitive clit, coaxing another orgasm from you.

His veiny hands were made to drive you crazy. He loved fingering your pussy, starting slow with one finger before stretching you open with three, watching the way your body adjusted to him. His movements were calculated, his fingers curling just right to hit your sweet spot as his thumb circled your clit. He was completely mesmerized by how soaked his hands became, relishing the mess you made for him.

“Yeah… give it to me, baby,” he murmured, coaxing more of your release as his fingers worked you over. Without hesitation, he dragged his hand across your pussy, collecting your arousal before licking his fingers clean, his eyes locked on you. “Hmm… sweet,” he hummed, savoring the taste.

“Feels good, princess? You like me fucking my fingers into you, hmm?” he teased, his pace quickening, delighting in the way your body trembled and clenched around him, completely undone by his hands alone.

He’d definitely be into BDSM, experimenting with ropes or having you tie him up instead. Roleplaying would also be right up his alley—him as your cute, needy little puppy desperate for your attention (and your pussy). And, of course, he’d be absolutely thrilled about trying out love hotels with you. The unique rooms, props, and antics they offer would make him giddy with excitement, always eager to test everything out just for fun.

“C’mon baby, what should we try next?” he mused, his energy still high while you lay there panting, trying to recover from your previous release. “Oh, let’s just try the bed, sweetheart.” Without hesitation, he carried you over, settling you down before quickly cuffing you to the bed’s attached restraints, leaving you spread open. Looking up, you noticed the mirror above you, giving you a perfect view of yourself and everything he was about to do. “Gon’ have so much fun with you, baby,” he said, a playful glint in his eye.

Hours passed like nothing to him—he could go on and on without tiring, loving the idea of breeding you and filling you up over and over again. His obsession with watching his cum spill out of you was insatiable, only for him to push it right back in with his cock or fingers.

“Fuck baby, take it. Take my fucking cock,” he grunted, emptying himself inside you once more. Pulling out slowly, he watched with fascination as his cum dripped from your swollen pussy. “Such a pretty pussy,” he murmured, collecting some of his release with his tip before thrusting it back into you, grinning as your whines of sensitivity filled the room.

#( tfwbluu )#enhypen x reader #enha x reader #enhypen smut #enha smut #jake x reader #jake x you #sim jake x reader #jake sim x reader #sim jaeyun x reader #jaeyun sim x reader #jaeyun x reader #jake smut #jaeyun smut #sim jaeyun smut #sim jake smut

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pinkrelish · 2 years ago

Text

𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐬, 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐬.

ex-con!linecook!eddie x fem!reader

✶Steve messed up. He assured you over and over again that you could have the spare bedroom in his apartment, but while you took your time mulling over his offer, someone else moved in: his down-and-out best friend who needed a place to stay. When you show up at Steve's door with little warning due to your job relocating you, he suggests you and Eddie share the bedroom. Nothing wrong with that, right?

Besides the fact Eddie hated you, and in turn, you hated Eddie.✶

NSFW — smut, masturbation, eddie watches porn, dry humping, cumming in pants, reader flashes her bra & wears a pencil skirt, enemies to lovers, forced proximity, there was only one bed(room)

↳ teaser oneshot | [wc: 9.3k] | series tba!

⋅line cook hc from @bewilderedbunny⋅

Steve was a nice guy. Really.

He was your pen pal since meeting at summer camp when you were both eight-years-old. He was sweet, and wrote you back within a week, without fail. He was your first kiss one sweltering afternoon on the dock over the lake; a quick peck when the counselors weren’t looking. He was one of your first contacts in your flip phone, and his picture occupied the first circle when you got a smartphone, after pestering him to meet up with you in Indianapolis, snapping the pic at a crosswalk; a day where your conversations spanned nothing and everything. What was there to talk about when you talked via pencil, pen, markers, emojis, and photos for years, and suddenly forgot the past decade when you encircled your arms around each other?

He was a nice guy throughout all of college. He’d text you during class. You’d text him from states away, falling asleep at your dormroom desk. He worked at his father’s business. You started as an unpaid intern collecting coffee orders, and pulling all-nighters doing spreadsheet grunt work your superiors didn’t deem worthy of their time.

Stevie 🌞: just quit your job and live with me!

Stevie 🌞: I still have that spare bedroom

Stevie 🌞: rent free

Year after year, you always declined. Climbing the ranks at your job was important to you; and one day it paid off. They were relocating you to the Chicago, and if you didn’t take their pitiful relocation package, you’d get a decent advance on your next paycheck (which was dire considering your salary was roughly the same, despite the ever increasing cost of living); and knowing Steve always had that spare furnished bedroom, and most of your belongings could fit into your car (as long as you didn’t need to see out the rear window), it seemed like a done deal.

Until you surprised him.

You: hey! can i move in w you? my jobs relocating me to chicago and i might already be two hours out. sorry i didn’t text sooner. i had to leave my apartment asap. fuck paying for the damage cindy’s doberman did to that place 😬

Stevie 🌞: Lets talk when you get here

Stevie 🌞: I’ll meet you for coffee

Let’s talk? Never a good sign, even when he was smiling at you from over his latte.

————

“My friend needed the spare room, but he’s a good guy, I swear,” he told you.

“He’s just a little rough around the edges,” he told you.

“He’s understanding; I’m sure you two will get along,” he told you.

“He can make space in the closet for your stuff, and one of you can sleep on the couch,” he told you. “Maybe you can alternate! Bed, couch. It's not like I’m charging him rent, so he should be cool with you living with us until you can afford to move out, or whatever. No big deal. I don’t really care when, you know that. No rush.”

Right. Just share the room.

You weren’t present for the conversation; Steve and Eddie were in the bedroom while you stood awkwardly in the living room, but the result of the exchange made quite the first impression.

“I dunno,” Steve’s voice carried, “maybe you could work something out like you get the room Monday through Wednesday, and she gets it Thursday through Saturday. Sunday’s up in the air?”

“Oh, just share the room like I used to, huh?” Eddie asked, alluding to the life he lived several months ago. “Finally got some privacy to breathe around here, and now you’ve invited some chick to live with us without telling me? Actually–no–you invited her to live here. In my room. No heads up.”

Steve’s wince was audible in his heavy sigh. “You work weird hours, you probably won’t even have to interact with her. C’mon, man. She’s been my friend since we were kids, and it’s just until she finds her own place. She’s cool. She’ll sleep on the couch, or whatever if it really bothers you; just like, let her keep her clothes and shit in here, and let her use the computer for work.”

“Whatever, man.”

“Eddie, wait!”

Thunderous footsteps and a seething, “Fuck this,” followed the heightened emotions, and before you could straighten your spine, you were introduced to your new roommate.

His pace faltered, not expecting you to be standing there. The fine wrinkles in the outer corner of his eyes pinched tighter, and his long hair flowed around a faded black snake tattoo on his throat, stretching across the strained tendons it was inked over, reaching the twitching muscle in his jaw from his clenched teeth. It took him a narrow-eyed glance to sum you and your pink luggage up, and place you firmly in the ‘I don’t like you’ category in his mind, and he continued his march.

“Hi! I’m–”

Your outstretched hand went ignored as he passed you.

He shoved on his boots, and slammed the front door behind him, rattling every piece of metal in the apartment. You stared at where he was just standing, vision marked with a black silhouette of the good guy you’d be sharing intimate space with for the next.. however long, and still with your hand out, you swiveled to Steve. “Yeah, he seems nice.”

————

Eddie Munson glared at your very existence. He wore a permanent crease between his brows when you were in his vicinity. Apprehension tensed his muscles when your soft gaze slid from Steve, to him. There was distaste in his frown. He rolled his eyes when you laughed too loud at the TV. His voice was vitriol, words clipped when he had to speak to you. His shoulders hiked to his ears when you entered the kitchen for a glass of water and caught him mid-chew on his peanut butter and jelly sandwich after he got home from work. When it was your turn to sleep in the bed, he made it a point to come home as loud as possible–yanking open the drawers on the dresser, waking the computer to blazing home screen, and leaving the light on when he went to shower across the hallway, pretending he didn’t hear you grumble at him to turn it off.

You wore a sleep mask to bed after that.

And when you slept on the couch, it was the only time he cooked for himself. Scraping pans across the burners, clinking silverware, gathering his hair off his neck and twisting it between his laced fingers, creating a cradle for him to drop his head back and sigh at the ceiling, just loud enough to stir you from your sleep.

You wore earplugs to bed after that.

Eddie Munson made it known you were not welcomed in his territory, and saw your accidental warm smile thrown vaguely in his direction as a threat to his well being.

But as much as he ensured misery every second you had the fortune of spending in his presence, you weren’t so innocent of terrorizing his every waking moment either..

Soon, Monday through Wednesday, and Thursday through Saturday, and a chance at a lazy Sunday were not enough.

————

When Steve was home, he acted as the mediator when it came to you two being at each other’s throats after another vicious stare-off. Currently, Eddie was standing with his arms crossed, leaned against the counter with his cheeks darkened to a fleshy red, and you were pacing the kitchen, wrapped in a bath towel, stating your case to Steve. You argued since most of the hair clogging the drain belonged to Eddie, he should be the one to clean it. And Steve, not knowing how to interpret Eddie’s steely focus on the fridge as if you didn’t exist, nor the fact a woman was dripping wet and yelling at him, he put his hands up in defense.

He edged away from your ire until he was at the cabinet housing a toothpick dispenser, and depressed the mechanism for one to roll out. He snapped it, put his hands behind his back, and shuffled the two ends into his palm, and had you choose one. Eddie kept his gaze averted, but grasped the other.

You held the long end of the toothpick above your head with a smile to rival the kitchen’s daylight bulbs searing into your retinas. You were the winner, and Eddie was the loser who had to clean the bathroom.

This worked swell when Steve was around to mitigate the tension. But when he was on a business trip, or out on a date, the Bed Schedule was a formality at best, and largely ignored at worst.

Meaning, the bets, deals, and favors began.

They started small: Rock, paper, scissors; winner gets dibs on those just-washed sheets. Flip a coin and see who has to rough it in the living room for the next two nights. Draw the shorter toothpick and try not to stab it in Eddie’s eye when he smirked.

But those were childish games. It was the deals and favors that proved more interesting.

“Can you help me punch holes in these?” you asked, voice high and urgent as you rushed to grab your color coded pie charts from the printer and clip them into a presentation binder.

He scoffed from the bedroom doorway, smelling of fryer oil and bacon grease. “What makes you think I want to help you after cooking for assholes all night?”

“Because you’re nice, and you love me.”

“I despise you,” he corrected, crossing his arms tight over his chest. He shifted his weight from foot to foot while you organized the pages, resisting the bait to give him what he wants, but you knew in your heart it was the only way to not be late for work this morning.

“Fine. You can have the bed tonight.”

He stayed put. “Nope. You know I’m working the overnight shift until Thursday.” That way, he slept while you were at work, and you slept while he was at work.

You glanced at the blue dawn creeping in from the window, then red the time on your watch. “Okay, fine, whatever! Have it all next week. I don’t give a fuck, just help me!”

Reveling in his victory, his plush lips stretched into a wide grin, showing too much teeth. He sauntered at his leisure, closing his eyes half-way, and gazing at you down the long slope of his nose. “Good girl, I knew you could do it,” he mocked.

You wanted to strangle him.

–And another time–

“Shut the fuck up for an entire day, and you can have to whole fucking closet,” Eddie snapped after your fifth instance of complaining about your professional office clothes not having available hangers due to him taking them for his old, ratty band tees.

Centering yourself, you brushed the dust off your favorite pants after finding them wadded up on the floor, and whispered, “I hope a rogue knife finds its way into your thumb again tomorrow.”

You swore you saw his hand flex out the corner of your eye, reacting to your curse.

–And the week after that–

You: come help me bring up these groceries

You: elevators broken

You: we can race up the stairs

You: loser washes dishes and takes out the trash

😒dumb: as long as the loser doesn’t cry about it when she sleeps on the couch

You: whatever

😒dumb: i’ll even give you a head start to make it fair

Struck with being that person grinning down at your phone in the stuffy underground parking garage, you gilded your thumbs over the keyboard in a fluttery tease.

You: you just want an excuse to stare at my ass

It took Eddie longer to reply, fumbling with his phone to find the emoji keyboard, only to send–

😒dumb: 🙄

–And the week after that–

“Get a life, you fucking loser,” you yelled from within the metal cylinder of the dryer, bent over on your hands and knees to wrestle your silk blouse free from where it was tangled in a rope of bedsheets, after you told him–explicitly–to never wash it because he’d do it wrong.

He merely watched you struggle from the sidelines, informing you, “You’re the one who asked me to do laundry. Don’t toss your precious, delicate shirts on the bathroom floor if you don’t want them thrown in with everything else. And by the way, I did my part of the deal, so the room is still mine tonight.” As a bonus, he added as he walked away, “Suck my dick, sweetheart.”

Your gums ached from how hard you clenched your teeth. You didn’t leave your blouse on the floor. He did, when he went hunting for his wallet he left in his jeans, and dumped all the clothes out of both baskets, mixing your work clothes with his.

That night, you locked him out of the bedroom. Fuck him.

————

After tireless days of the same back and forth, the juvenile deals and favors were losing their significance. Someone needed to up the ante. And a certain line you two skirted taunted you both, but remained uncrossed until..

————

The hallway leading to your apartment was stale with inactivity. Most people had been home for hours, or were back from bars and crashed on the couch, drooling on their girlfriend’s favorite decorative pillow–the kind with the pom poms. You thought of them with envy. Snoring, dreaming of some blissful shit like sheep hopping a pasture fence. But not you. Your 9 to 5 extended far past those numbers on the clock. It skipped right over them, just like you were skipped over in meetings, being told the extra burden you were taking on was good for the company, and the programs you were learning would be paid in experience. Bullshit. You were tired, and the last thing you needed was some long haired man stubbing his toe on the coffee table to wake you up–morning or night.

But perhaps you were blessed.

You opened the door to near-darkness. Not a lamp, or TV on inside to show someone was home. Not a groan, sigh, or blast of music funneling from a set of oversized headphones. Not a creak of movement from the hallway, or bathroom; surrendering your heartbeat as the loudest feedback.

It appeared you were alone. What a wonderful thing.

The muffled thud of the low pile rug under your heels gave way to silky sweeps of plush carpet welcoming your aching pantyhose-covered feet. Moving further into the apartment, you knew the shapes to avoid in the dim light coming from above the stove, casting the coffee table and scattered stools at the breakfast bar in shadow.

Groggy from exhaustion, you blinked at the spice cabinet door Eddie left open before leaving for his shift. During a conversation with Steve, you let it slip that people who leave the cabinet doors open annoy you, so of course he began leaving one open as a greeting when you came home.

You closed it with your right hand, swinging your laptop bag wildly, and before you could react, the strap caught the top of the glass sugar jar and knocked it over in a wincing crash. Luckily, after peeping one eye open, you assessed nothing broke, but now there was a streak of glittery white dust on the countertop you definitely weren’t going to clean up.

Maybe you could strike a deal with Eddie to wipe it up for you. It was–in a way–his fault, since he left the cabinet door open. If you didn’t need to close it, none of this would’ve happened..

You made a gagging sound.

Since when did your immediate thought process swing to him, and how do you get it to stop? It was bad enough you peeked around the corner into the hallway, praying, praying, praying the bedroom light was off, and feeling your body slump with utter relief when it was. Being on the same planet as him was hell, you didn’t need your private thoughts to linger on him, too.

Mentally dismissing Eddie Munson from your brainspace, you invited yourself into the bedroom. You sought the cushy mattress to cradle your weary body after a long day, and the nest of cozy fleece blankets to swaddle you as you drifted to sleep. Unfortunately, the idiot’s pillow smelled far too much like him; cigarettes and cheap vanilla cologne combined with his hair products, burning your nose like toasted sugar. Despicable. Just the worst. You should exchange it with your own pillow, but you forgot it on the couch, and the couch was so very, very far away..

~~~

Eddie sat crouched in the alleyway outside of Benny’s Diner with a stubby cigarette balanced between his lips, blowing the smoke out in a slow exhale like a roll of fog on a misty morning. Cold emanated from the bricks pricking the expanse of his shoulders, and the night air chilled his damp shirt to his sticky skin, erupting goosebumps along his forearms. Standing around him were the other cooks on break. He didn’t share a common language with them outside of gestures, curse words, and kitchen lingo, but they gathered in a semi-circle as if to include him.

His shift was over. He’d technically clocked out, but he loitered until their vices were stomped under their shoes, and he snuffed his glowing ash on the wall behind him, and followed them inside.

Washing his hands first, he dried them on the towel tucked under the string of his apron tied around his waist, and set up a space on the flat top for him to occupy since the dinner rush had long since died, and the only patrons on the floor were drunks wandering in for greasy hashbrowns. He grabbed the four quart Cambro from the fridge beneath the prep area, and ladled enough batter for two large pancakes. Borrowing a station, he sliced up a ripe banana from the walk-in, and dropped it into a hot pan with a bit of butter, caramelizing them on the range while he waited for the pancakes to be flipped.

The guys behind him read off the few tickets, and carried their conversation from earlier. Eddie caught some of it, learning a few words here or there, but regardless of the language barrier, he knew they were talking about him. They were snickering with their heads together, pointing at the pancakes he was making despite being clocked out.

Eddie spoke with a sneaky grin, “If I make them for her, she’ll leave me the fuck alone on my day off.”

The guys may not have understood entirely what he meant, but his sunny disposition juxtaposed by his wry gaze communicated a universal plight: girls.

One of their hands landed hard between Eddie’s shoulder blades when they doubled over in a belly laugh, and the other one made whip-cracking sounds, calling him the same slang word he called the married cooks. It wasn’t worth it to attempt to correct them that these pancakes were not for his girl, but for his future migraine, so he hummed along with them, and flipped the pancakes with his right hand while tossing the bananas with a swift jerk of his left.

After their gossip, they went back to work, and Eddie grabbed a to-go container, loading it with the two pancakes and sliding the caramelized bananas on top. He brought it to the prep area to drizzle with chocolate sauce, and finished it off with heart-shaped strawberries, a dusting of powdered sugar, and a sprig of mint. He didn’t cut the strawberries that way with ulterior motives, it was just something he did when he had spare time in the morning. Cutting a wedge out of the stemmed top, and slicing them vertical. The customers liked it. It was cute, supposedly. There were no hidden intentions to him taking his time to place them just so around the box; it was merely him taking pride in how he plated his dish.

Clamping the container shut, he untied his apron, changed his shoes, and left out the back entrance, kicking pebbles under the crescent moon, and walking through the front door of the next building over. Gray concrete, a faulty elevator, ugly rugs to feign elegance, and high rise as far as ‘high rise when you live next a bunch of squatty buildings’ went. It was home, and it was blissfully dark inside.

Eddie worked his feet out of his tied-once-and-never-untied street shoes, and dropped his non-slip clogs next to them in a loud clatter.

He breathed. Inhaled deep. Sighed through his nose.

Quiet. Peaceful respite behind his eyelids.

The adrenaline ebbed. The hours of shouting and being shouted at, metal on metal clangs, timer beeps, and mechanical whirr of a ticket being printed out would never cease haunting his mind, but he should stop flinching from the imaginary sounds after a few hours. The pain stretching the length of his back should ease under a hot shower. The throbbing ache in his knees should lessen once he sleeps. The fatigue, like needles driven into his bones, should heal so he could be on his feet for thirteen more hours tomorrow.

Warmth worked its way beyond the calluses creating a barrier in his palm supporting the styrofoam container. Syrupy sweet hot sugar invaded his nostrils from the pancake bribe, battling the stench of his dried sweat and body odor baked into his t-shirt. The tiled entryway beneath his feet woke him out of his daze, and he slid his heavy-lidded gaze to the vacant couch; the comforter was folded, and the pillow was propped up, unslept on.

Briefly he wondered if you went out with your friends after work. But as he approached the kitchen, his dreams were crushed by a single closed cabinet door.

You were home.

You were home, and you weren’t on the couch, nor in the shower.

Eddie allowed his eyes to flutter closed as he hung his head back. In that position, he rolled the disappointment out of his shoulders, and braced them with something new.

Irritation.

Tamping the frustration in the pit of his stomach from bubbling up, he exhaled another calming breath, and opened the fridge, placing the pancakes exactly front and center amongst the fresh produce he was sometimes excited to create with, and sometimes slammed to the bottom of the trash when he was too exhausted and uninspired to do anything with their rotten corpses.

He prepared his expression into one of unbudging indifference. Flat, and unwilling to back down.

And yet, his nose scrunched when he pushed open the bedroom door, and there you were, as predicted, lounging amongst your hideous blankets spilling out from under you as if you were an opulent pearl nestled within an oyster shell.

The resentment built as he assessed your form delicately painted in a red glow from the ugly neon sign in the shape of a lipstick kiss tacked alongside his favorite band posters. He’d only lived with Steve long enough to feel comfortable decorating the blank walls, and you ruined the Rob Halford flow three days into your invasion. Your face was highlighted by the dim blue light of your laptop resting on your stomach, rising and falling with each gentle breath, and you were haloed by the Himalayan salt lamp crowding the nightstand. It’s trendy, you explained.

With vehemence, he flickered the light switch.

You cringed from the bright assault, and clacked your fingers on the keyboard, pretending you weren’t dozing off a second ago. “Can you go away?”

“What’re you doing in here?”

Unimpressed by his tone, you glazed your response in insolence. “What’s it look like I’m doing? I’m minding my own business.” At that, your attitude was solidified, along with how this interaction would go.

Eddie stared at you for a long minute. Not once did you acknowledge him. He watched your eyes dart across the screen, probably watching one of those Youtube videos where girls walked around exciting cities with a camera way too close to their face, and he dragged his gaze downwards, noticing you were still in your work clothes; though, your blouse and skirt were disheveled, and your pantyhose were discarded on the floor, still holding the vague shape of your legs, resembling a flattened rotisserie chicken.

He focused on your eyes again. Bloodshot, rimmed in red with a suggestion of water clinging to the outer corners where your eyelashes met, and sporting a hefty burden of bags beneath them.

“It’s Wednesday,” he reminded you, voice heavy in his chest, but sounding scratchy, and hollow. His throat was shot.

“Mm,” you hummed and glanced at the clock in the corner of your screen, “it’s Thursday, actually.”

White hot anger boiled in his veins, striking his skin like a leather lash. It simmered, popped, sizzled, boiled over. The yelling, the timers, the cacophonous clanging. The ticket machine, the keyboard, the stinging cut on his thumb. Smug fucking brat laying in his bed on his night to have it. It was sudden, it was stark, and it was hatred.

“Make a deal.”

“A deal?”

“A fucking deal,” he repeated. “You know, like we’ve been making?” He stopped himself short of calling you a dirty name, but you must’ve gathered it from his tongue’s hesitation, because you turned your head a few degrees to challenge his temper.

“Oh, lucky for you, there was a two-for-one deal at the store.”

You waved two middle fingers at him, showing a bit of teeth with your crooked grin.

The hatred festered, but not as vicious. The anger was there–oh, the anger was there–but the energy to keep this going hit its peak, and fizzled. There was no sense in reasoning with you. The pancakes in the fridge were for a different occasion, he couldn’t waste them on this, and he was too tired to come up with his own bet, deal, or favor. “Just think of something so we can get this over with,” he nearly begged.

After some consideration, you held your fist out for rock, paper, scissors.

“Where’s the option for a gun in my mouth?”

“Harsh,” you pouted. Instead, you pointed at the 20 sided die on the desk. He inclined his head, shaking it with a slow sort of intention, eyes wide to express his warning to knock it off, and give him a true answer, something to make this worthwhile.

Finding the whole ordeal dull, you returned your attention to your laptop, pressing the white earbud into your ear before unpausing the video.

It took seconds off his life, but you finally spoke again.

“How long were you in prison? Six years? Bet it’s been a while since you’ve seen one of these in the flesh.” Due to your satin cream blouse being unbuttoned at the neck, you dipped your thumb under the collar, and traced the vibrant temptation of your red bra strap in a long, deliberate stroke. You hooked the soft pad of your thumb under the luxury, and brought it out for his viewing pleasure. A moment later, you snapped it to your skin, and went back to typing, not once breaking concentration with your video.

Eddie’s fascination, however, was trained on the dainty crimson gift slipping under the shimmery cream, sliding against the soft slope of your shoulder.

Heat thrummed in his chest. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, sloshing his blood like viscous tidal waves, muting the clacky sound of your keyboard. Anger mixed with something more, something worse. It warmed his cheeks, and reignited the cold sweat prickling his back. It honed his curiosity, sinking every detail of the second tortoiseshell button on your blouse into his mind. Memorizing how the fabric around it went taut, and glinted honey at the height of your breath. Noticing how the bottom of your shirt was wrinkled and pulled slack, but still tucked into your pencil skirt. Remembering how the tight material hugged your thighs when you traipsed around the apartment. Although, the navy blue number was less defined now, fitting looser around your hips.

He didn’t know how long he was fixated by your clothing, until you sighed.

“Not enough for you?”

You asked it with forced casualness, he could tell. Your voice was too even, tone too polite, eyebrows too raised in mock indifference. You were introducing a line that had yet to be crossed. A door which, when opened, would give access to more possibilities than the usual bets, deals, and favors. An enticing offer, and he didn’t deny the nervous flutter of intrigue arousing his blood elsewhere.

But past the line was dangerous territory. Right? That’s where things got muddied, and feelings got involved.

Or maybe not. Because, above all else, he hated you, and you hated him.

This was a deal like any other.

“Maybe this’ll help,” you said, never breaking eyesight from the screen, its colors reflecting in your pupils.

You were the epitome of cool pinching the blouse between your fingers and slotting the buttons through the holes one after the other. Down, down, down to your navel, tugging either side of the shirt open, letting the elegant cream frame the aggressive scarlet.

Eddie was taken off guard.

The bra was more akin to lingerie than he expected. Its cups contained you like a poorly kept secret. Curves of red peonies covered your nipples–hard bud pressing against the center of the flower from the thrill of exploring a new end to your daily arguments. Your areolas peeked from between the petals, where the intricate lacework went see through, granting him a preview to the smooth flesh beneath.

Click clack, click clack, space bar, space bar, space bar, he swore you pressed your arms together to make your breasts rounder. Actually, he didn’t need to second guess. He saw the cusp of cleavage squish before his very eyes.

“Satisfied?” you inquired.

No, he ached.

The voice in his head was so automatic, so sure, he didn’t question it, either.

When he refused to verbalize the things which made him nauseous, his opulent pearl rolled onto her shoulder and lifted the laptop the pillow, turning over onto her stomach to engage with it solely, circling a manicured fingernail over the trackpad, and clicking.

To his surprise, the video on screen wasn’t of the vapid people you watched, but of a troubleshooting guide to the program your company was having you learn in order to teach it to the higher ups next week. (Or so he heard when you told Steve yesterday.) You tabbed out of the video, fixed a property in a column, checked the statistic it was evaluating, and added in an aesthetically pleasing green color before tabbing back.

He couldn’t parse how he felt about you having to do more thankless tasks off the clock, especially when you were clearly tired, but something else stole the last of his fiery anger, and doused his willpower to resist a glance.

Your habit of unzipping your skirt as soon as you walked into the apartment proved evident when you rolled over. The silky polyester lining slipped against your skin, shifting the long zipper from your hip to your backside. The halves parted, showing the end of the cream blouse, and a peek of skin. You adjusted how you laid, rocking your hips back and forth until you sank into the plush blankets, and propped your chin in your palm when you weren’t typing. Small movements working the skirt higher, and higher, bunching the fabric around the fat of your ass. Squirming, and stretching, tugging on your blouse, pulling, pulling, blouse, skirt, blouse, skirt, and then he saw it..

Red.

Delicate, feminine.

Tucked, hidden from anyone’s view but his, were the matching red panties to your bra. Trapped in a valley between thighs and ass, and stretching over the swell of your heat, embellishing the mouth watering desire in opaque lace strained firm against the outline of his treasure.

Eddie swallowed.

“Why’re you still in here?” you asked with a bite of annoyance. “You got to see a girl’s bra for the first time ever, probably. You should be celebrating, throwing yourself a party. In the living room. On the couch.”

The anger had returned like a slap of reality across his cheek. He narrowed his eyes at the back of your head, remembering why he loathed you with every fiber of his being. “I’ve seen a bra before.”

“Pictures don’t count.”

“Whatever, bitch.”

Your body jolted with a snort, and he flung open the door hard enough for it to bounce off the door stop. He heard your infuriating inhale, and slapped the lightswitch off, shutting the door behind him with excessive force before you could ask more demands of him. Gladly, he closed himself out of his own bedroom. The physical barrier under his trembling fist had never felt better, still gripping the knob as if he’d go back in there.

He wouldn’t.

He let go of the chilled metal and stalked down the hall, curbing himself from stomping out his frustration, only to throw himself onto the couch. Stomach burning with hunger, hatred. Chest heaving with rage. Pulse rising in his throat, beating against the ball chain necklace he wore. Breathing so hard, sounding as if he’d ran laps before collapsing onto his bed for the night, crossing his arms to squeeze his biceps, massaging his fingers down the muscle. Occupying himself. Distracting himself.

It wasn’t working.

He was mad.

Furious.

Draping his hand over his eyes, he gave himself a moment to make a decision, and pushed his bangs off his forehead. They stayed in their gravity defying position due to the oil. He needed to shower. He needed to clean himself of this day, and go to sleep. But he couldn’t.

The fever in his veins was too distracting. He needed to take care of it. Get rid of it.

Sitting up, he unfolded the comforter from the end of the couch, and propped the pillow against the armrest to angle his head slightly up, where he could see the hallway.

From his front pocket, he collected his phone and laid it on his stomach while he unbuttoned his pants, pinching the waistband together and pulling the zipper down, sighing through his nose at the relief of the lines he was crossing.

He grasped his phone and brought it close to his face. Cupped in one palm, and using the other hand to tap it twice. A streak of perspiration was left on the screen where he swiped in his passcode, using his index finger to open a private browser and type in a porn site. Any porn site. Whichever variation of the word porn + noun he thought of first. It didn’t matter much to him; that’s not where his preferences lie.

office worker

co-worker

secretary

office worker tight skirt

office worker pov skirt grinding

His brain went stupid for synonyms trying to narrow down his search. He didn’t know exactly what he was looking for, but he knew the ultra HD, professionally lit, fakey acting wasn’t it. He scrolled, and scrolled. Narrowed his search again. Ticked off boxes on the side. Tried broader genres. Went back to the results he was on, and traveled down the rabbit hole a few more pages until, at last, he found what suited him.

The thumbnail appeared promising. Dimly lit, sorta bad quality, and clearly shot at home with a woman whose body type wasn’t far off from what he was hoping for. He even appreciated the visual similarities in the amateur actress’ navy blue skirt, and off-white blouse. As long as he scrolled down a tad to crop out her face, it was perfect. Plus, it was easier to insert himself into the scene that way.

He clicked it, and– ”Jesus Christ,” he turned down the volume as quickly as he could, accidentally pressing down the two buttons on the side that took a screenshot and saved it to his gallery.

The video started a little further into the act than he anticipated.

Such a fucking idiot, Eddie, Jesus Christ. Sitting in thick silence, he waited to see if you’d heard, and once his face calmed of the embarrassed flush stinging his cheeks, he moved on.

Eddie worked his right hand under the comforter, but heeded his boxers as a layer of separation. At the first contact with the parts of him he denied aching for the bane of his existence, he allowed his eyes to flutter closed. Gently, he raked his fingernails down the base of his shaft, and over his balls. He cupped them. Felt their heft. Cradled them and dragged them softly upwards, letting them fall and stretch before repeating the motion, enjoying the tickly sensation of being the first thing he touched. His most sensitive, most susceptible part of himself. Meanly ignoring the other part of him twitching, throbbing, begging to be catered to.

He kept some fraction of his brain alert to the hallway, senses sharpened by the spike of adrenaline, listening out for any sound of you exiting the room. But most of him was focused on hitting the play button, sticking to his decision that he couldn’t wait to do this in the shower. He needed it now.

It started with the woman already in motion. Shot from the guy’s point of view laying on the bed, his obvious hardon pressing through his slacks into her pussy grinding down on him. Her skirt lifted with each motion, showing her black underwear. Not that he was complaining they weren’t red, but he didn’t concentrate on them.

He switched from playing with his balls to gripping his cock. Finally. It buzzed with the rush of pleasure, harder than it had ever been, even in his youth. His fingers hardly met through his boxers, but he encircled them the best he could, and started with fast, desperate, stunted strokes, getting himself to where the guy in the video was in a matter of pent-up seconds, clenching his ass to buck his hips up. Heart pounding. Inhales shaky from the speed at which he took care of his problem, exhales interrupted by muted huffs.

Maybe he should be embarrassed, but it didn’t take him long to feel that encouragement to keep going, keep going, keep going. Where each frantic pump along his length was better than the last. Where each accidental graze of his fingers over the lipped edge of his tip sprinted towards his bliss.

In the video, the woman dipped a finger between her lips and moved her panties aside.

There was a low hum in the back of his throat, engrossed by the wet warmth opposed to his dry fist.

Metal knob turning–door creaking–carpet groaning, step, step, step–

It was a fucking miracle he managed to close out of the window in his panic. His thumb missed it the first two times as fear coated him in a cold sweat, and the phone fell out of his palm, smacking him in the chin as you rounded the corner.

You didn’t spare him the time of day as you walked into the kitchen and got a glass from the cabinet. Didn’t bother looking at him as you stood at the fridge with your hip cocked out, holding the cup under the outer dispenser and depressing the button for ice.

The fridge made a mechanical whirr, and filled your glass. Ker-chunk, ker-chunk, ker-chunk, the ice cubes tinked into the cup for the longest seconds of his life. His hand was frozen mid-tug on his dick, and you were wearing an oversized t-shirt, and nothing else. Truly, it hardly covered your ass. It clung to your hips, brushed the height of your thighs, and suddenly, he was checking how obvious the bulk of the comforter was over his lap, and if it creased when he moved his hand upwards.

Nothing. Not a fold out of place. He could keep it up. Stroke, by stroke, brushing his fingers over the head only, testing his limits to keep discreet while you switched to the other spout on the fridge for water.

Even when you turned to him, he massaged himself over his boxers, soaking the sticky slick beads of precum into the fabric.

“What?”

Your tone didn’t deter him from tracing the underside of his swollen head, caressing the glans with the same sort of sentiment he experienced in the homemade porn between a real couple–all gentle and nice.

He mustered enough brain cells to respond, “What? I’m already sleeping on the couch. Can’t you leave me alone for one night? Or are you that desperate for attention?”

None the wiser, you took a sip from your glass, and folded your other arm across your stomach, making it obvious from the natural sway that you weren’t wearing a bra. Probably weren’t wearing panties either..

Swallowing the ice cold water with a satisfied ‘ah’, you went on your merry way. “Just came to gawk at the bridge troll, is all. Night night!” Your annoying farewell was followed by the creak of the door, and the faint click of it closing.

What a fucking irritating person.

The anger bristled again. Definitely anger. It was there, lurking, when he rubbed at the sore spot on his chin and picked up his phone, unlocking it to stare at the homescreen.

There was no patience within him to find the video. Besides, the sanitized professional thumbnails on the homepage were enough to have him dropping his phone to the cushion crevices beside him, surrendering himself to his imagination. Nothing lived up to the scenarios in his head, anyway.

Before getting ahead of himself, he slid his fingers beneath the elastic waistband, and gripped himself wholly. There was no sense in denying what he wanted: the raw desire of his hand wrapped firmly around his cock, not caring about creating a mess. It could be cleaned up later. He needed this. Now.

He immersed himself in the fantasy.

The visuals took place minutes ago, if he hadn’t backed down. It was based on you refusing to give him the bed, and instead of walking away from your bratty attitude, he lifted his chin, and broadened his chest with a confidence he didn’t possess. Fantasy Eddie had the courage to kneel on the mattress like he belonged there. Your body would dip, rock towards his imposing knees straddling either side of your calves, and in his strongest dreams, he acted out what should’ve happened.

If he had his way, he would begin with your hips. A single strong palm on the curve would have you hiking them up to greet him, and he was a gentleman. As soon as you presented him with the opportunity, he was scrambling to spread your legs so he could dip between them, eager to please. He wanted to know the sensation of coarse red lace scratching across his tongue; it would be a novelty only he would know. His hands would be on your upper thighs, bringing you closer, closer, to where his mouth awaited you. Persuading your face to the sheets. Putting a wicked arch in your back, granting him permission.

He’d angle his mouth to your clothed clit and collect spit to his bottom lip, parting, and lapping his tongue over the pretty thing, suckling it through the fabric. His nose would be to your cunt, inhaling the musky pheromones. Didn’t matter how long you’d been at work, proving yourself to people who would never appreciate you like he did. He cherished every bit of you so much. The heady scent intoxicated him like a drug, the dimples when he smashed the fat of your ass around his face, your silly whine when he pressed kisses up your pretty pussy. The anger was gone. Like that, he adored you. After all, you craved him. And it’d been a long time since he was wanted. It felt nice to not be rejected.

Eddie, Fantasy You gasped when the wet sound of him sucking your clit through your panties grew in fervor. He was drunk on you. Trying hard. Giving more. Licking at the dark patch he created. God, he loved it. He loved the evidence. He could suckle, moan, flatten his tongue like torture and just breathe on you until he fell asleep, waking up to nudge his teeth over the sensitive areas you presented to him. Spending hours getting you to your peak, over and over.

But in reality, he was approaching his end rather quickly.

My turn, sweetheart, he regretfully informed you.

Getting to his knees, he positioned himself behind you. His cock slotted so nicely against you; red lace meeting unzipped gray uniform pants, and he wasted no time stoking the flames from where he left off.

He clapped your cheeks around the hard outline of his cock. His black boxers stretched to their limits to contain him. There was a dark patch at the tip peeking out between your ass, growing with each slow, assertive grind he committed to, fucking himself into the curve of your cunt with ragged breaths. Losing himself. Mouth agape, and eyebrows pinched as his needy head was swallowed when he rocked his hips back, and reappeared with a rough thrust.

Again, it didn’t take long until he needed a break to make himself last longer.

He draped his weight over you as he slid his rough, calloused palms up the backs of your thighs, creating goosebumps along the sensitive flesh on his way to your sorry excuse for skirt. He bunched the pitiful thing to your waist, and reached for the hem of your shirt.

You hummed in approval, pressing against his lap.

It was hard to balance, but you supported him as he yanked your blouse up–sucking in a sharp breath when you moaned, and rutted yourself on his length–and he brushed his fingers along your soft skin in search for the bra clasp, and when he found it, he pulled the band tight. The latch gave. He caught sudden heft in his palm, cupping you and the bra together, massaging lightly until your nipple slotted between the base of two of his fingers, and he applied the gentlest pressure.

Oh fuck, you whined so nicely for him.

They’re extra sensitive after being caged all day, you explained.

Yeah? Does it feel good?

You nodded, cheek smashed against the wrinkled sheets.

He pinched harder.

Saliva gathered at the corner of your lips, spilling in a sticky string as you dragged your head in another nod, heavy-lidded eyes just visible through your lashes, open mouth panting for him.

True satisfaction spread like weightlessness from the pit of anger in his stomach. He wasn’t supposed to be making you feel good, not the person ruining the one place he found peace after six years of paranoia, but here he was, wishing the taste of your pussy lasted longer in his mouth. Here he was, anchoring his forearm alongside yours, gripping the same sheet you gripped while he beared his weight down on you, and pressed kisses to your clothed shoulders.

His other hand was trapped between you and the bed, but each pulse around your nipple was another long stroke on his cock.

The scene had been set. The build up and story line were crafted. Now, he could play.

He worked kisses under your collar, tasting the sheen of sweat at your hairline, leaving trails of spit to cool as he lolled his head on top of yours, resting his forehead amongst your hair, and he put his lips to the shell of your ear, feeling you shiver beneath him.

Do you think you can treat me that way, and get away with it? Fantasy Him asked. Think you can boss me around whenever you want? He punctuated his question with a hard, unexpected thrust, earning a gasp from your pretty mouth.

Turn over. He didn’t command it verbally, but when he took away his hand to smack the side of your ass, and sat back, you were aware of his unstated switch in position.

You laid on your back, legs spread for him. Skirt bunched around your hips, blouse fallen open, except for the one button remaining. He grasped his cock, and stroked himself through his boxers for you. His brows were drawn together in a gentle question, gaze locked onto yours. This was supposed to be about him, but he still asked, Is this okay? Is this what you want?

The source of his anger, his rage, his frustration–all the blame, burdens, and negativity he attributed to a single woman–opened her arms to him, and nodded.

He passed over your pussy to praise kisses to your stomach. Deft fingers working to undo the last button on your blouse, and explore upwards. Wet smacks of his sloppy gifts arched your back the higher he traveled, molding his large hands to your body. Brushing his rough fingers to the junction of your inner thigh and hip, and spreading you open so your pussy swallowed the fabric, wedging the red lace tight to your clit for later. Up, up, his kisses covered you, until he nosed at the underwire of your bra, and lifted it out of the way.

Fuck, Eddie.

You pushed his hair out of his face. The shorter curls fell from the low bun at his nape, and you tucked them behind his ear so you could watch his tongue lap and swirl at your nipple. Your fluttery moans were heaven, as were your tits being shoved in his mouth. You squirmed for him, clamored for him. You wanted him, needed him. Did you care that his hair was greasy? Did you care that dried salt crystals from sweat scratched your fingers when you cradled his jaw? Did you care about his smell from thirteen hours of being in a hot kitchen when you cupped him under the armpits, encouraging him with a buck of your hips to get back to business?

He supposed not, since it was his fantasy.

But just like reality, you were trying to boss him around.

Want me to fuck you, sweetheart?

You could hardly meet his gaze, eyes so heavy with lust you couldn’t keep them open long enough to beg.

He aligned himself, nudging the tip of his cock to your clit, and he savored the experience of watching the bliss wash over you. It took him a beat to realize, but he moaned in response to your moan. Watching you react from where he picked up his head from your chest, memorizing the fake vision of your face losing the usual harsh distaste for him. Your lips were better this way–lush, and making an effort to sound out his name as he drew his hips back–not sneering because you had the displeasure of asking him a question.

Still, he drove forward with haste. Cotton on lace. Layers of separation. Anything else was too intimate for how he wanted to fuck you, rough and fast, caring only about himself and not about your poor neglected clit, swollen and pleading for his soft tongue, only to get rough, unmeasured thrusts. Messy, and unintentional, and denying. Until you made them work for you.

You used the meat of his shoulders as leverage. Digging your fingers in, holding tight as you rocked with him and raised your legs, wrapping them around his ass. The squeeze of your thighs, and pressure built from your locked ankles tipped you into a better position, and now, his entire length was flush to your clit, not simply passing over the top of it.

All of him was touching you, touching you, touching you. Trapping his cock between your stomachs, damp with reignited sweat. Back to rutting against one another at a desperate pace, chasing the tension, the high. The snap of his hips. Your stuttered groans for more. The anger, the hatred. Festering under the surface, bubbling in your insolence. Present in his teeth grazing your throat, nipping at the pulse, kissing, sucking, licking, tasting.

You’re gonna make me cum. Even Fantasy You said it in a lower register, reaching where the molten resentment laid dormant.

He found the same gravelly animosity and warned you, “I’m too close, I’m too close.”

You cradled him tighter, burying your heads in each other’s embrace. Muscles quivering from effort, burning with each grind, tensing under curious hands finding new places to cling to, curves to admire. Until they stayed put.

Nails bit flesh. Strong fingers dug painfully at bone. Mouths fell open. Eyes closed. Writhing flesh on fabric, and flesh, you trembled under him.

I’m–mm, Eddie–I’m cumming–

His thrusts faltered, jerking into short bursts, and his gracious moans went high and tight in his throat, spilling out as he panted, “You make me feel so good, baby. Fucked you so good. I can’t–I’m cumming–fuck–”

Fuck, Eddie–Fuck, Eddie–Fuck, Eddie–

–”Fuck,” he babbled aloud.

The climax took him to the dark apartment. The overwhelming shadows of sleeping in the lonely living room on the flat couch under an extra blanket not yet broken of its factory starch, scratchy on the skin. His muscles were still tensed into him curling in on himself, lifting his aching neck and shoulders off the pillow for a few more pumps of his hand sliding over his slick shaft, spreading the warmth oozing towards his hip, no doubt tangling the curly thatch of hair above the base. In lip-biting silence, he stroked himself, not daring to breathe after he knew he said something out loud from his imagination. He listened. Eyes straining to see the hallway.

His bangs stuck to the heavy sweat on his forehead.

His entire body was heated beyond belief.

Anticipation sat heavy on his tongue.

But as he came down from his peak, nothing happened. He stayed lonely. His heartbeat pounded against the guitar pick sticking to his chest, and that was it. Now his head was cleared of distractions, and he could sleep. The fantasy was a fantasy, and in this reality, he wouldn’t do this again. It was too weird to muddy the multitude of negative feelings he had for you with.. whatever this was.

A release, that’s what this was.

Kicking the blanket off, he swung his legs to the side to sit up, socked feet softened by the plush carpet. He pressed his palm over the sticky substance dripping downward, and soaked it up to the best of his ability. And as his cum hit the fresh air, and his inhale was cut short as he smelled his shirt, he thought about the shower he needed. And he thought about the dark patch on his boxers. And he thought about his clothes in the dresser in the bedroom.

Looking down, he inspected his gray pants, and groaned.

They were ruined.

So, so ruined and obvious as to what he was doing.

There was no way he could go into there and grab new clothes for a shower. The thought of facing you after this, and you seeing him in this pathetic state–and God, if you knew it was because of you, and because he couldn’t control himself–he’d rather die than admit you did this to him.

Fuck.

Couldn’t even go to his own room for some fucking clothes so he could shower after working all day.

Yeah, that confirmed it. He fucking hated you.

Hated you even more when he thought about you sleeping on his mattress, wrapped snug in his bedsheets wearing only a t-shirt with nothing else to cover you, and his dick twitched again for that red lace he knew was discarded in the laundry basket.

“Fuck my life.”

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