#the last couple of weeks have been RELENTLESS

[elpsycongruent]

fave ghost trick character(s) for the bingo card? 👻

ghost trick is a funny one for this specific bingo card; it's such a tight story, the characters are all fantastic, and the ending is SO GOOD, that I don't actually think it's even possible to get a bingo?

but anyway, here's the Actual Best Boy Ever, missile!

emphasis on the charming, and the solving all the problems in the entire story, because holy shit. [REDACTED FOR SPOILERS] works hard, but our valiant little doggie works harder.

speaking of, here's our master manipulator, [REDACTED FOR SPOILERS]:

yes, he is both too stupid to live (and boy howdy...) AND completely brilliant. he contains multitudes. also again: THAT ENDING T_T

hilariously, cabanela's bingo card is almost identical. he just gets one more square:

is he gay? is he bi? i'm not sure, but regardless, he is FABULOUS.

and finally, have our baby rooster of a detective, lynne!

your honor, i love her <3

[vroomvro0mferrari]

LN4 | Vexing Vacation – Part 1

Summary: When you agreed to join your brother on his vacation, sharing a room with his best friend wasn’t part of the plan. Now, that you’re constantly stuck with Lando and his relentless teasing, you’re not sure whether you want to strangle him or kiss him.

Lando Norris x Fewtrell!Reader, one-bed trope, a lot of banter and a hint of forced proximity :)

WC: 3.1K

Warnings: mentions of sex/sexual insinuations, and cursing (as always)

Masterlist | Part 2

Y/N sighed as she stared at her suitcase. She would never get it closed without breaking the zipper. She opened it again, going through the selection of clothes while she asked herself which of her items weren’t absolutely necessary. The unfortunate answer was that she needed everything. 

She had wild plans for the short vacation her brother had invited her on. According to him, she had been too stressed the last couple of months, and she desperately needed some time off. Along with the promise that he’d take care of everything, she had agreed to join his trip. She could use a one-night stand, or two and a little flirting to get her mind off her busy job.

However, there was the small nuisance of Lando coming along. Ever since he gained some confidence after his career took off and girls started herding him, he had been mocking her and making extremely inappropriate comments. He had changed over the years and Max had told her all about it. He told her about his new endeavours with the ladies; how he brought a different girl home every weekend and never spoke to them again. The attention was feeding his ever-growing ego, and it annoyed Y/N endlessly. He needed someone to put him in his place, and she would volunteer every time.

She smiled triumphantly when she finally zipped her suitcase closed with half an hour to spare. Sitting on her couch and scrolling on her phone, she waited for her brother to pick her up on his way to the airport. They greeted each other quickly before they took off, Y/N and Pietra catching up and discussing their plans for the week as Max drove.

Once they arrived at the airport, she spotted Lando all too quickly, casually leaning against a pillar near the check-in. He was wearing sunglasses (inside – like some lunatic) and a cocky smile on his face when he saw them approaching. 

“Y/N Fewtrell. It’s been a while…”

“If only it lasted longer,” She responded.

Lando smiled at her reply, enjoying her feisty character whereas Max hissed into her ear, “Play nice.” 

“Let’s board?” Lando asked. “The jet’s ready, I think.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Private?”

“Yes. Are you impressed?”

“Hardly,” she scoffed before rolling her suitcase to the plane.

The group arrived at their destination in no time – flying private really did have its perks – and drove the rental car to the resort. Taxis were a no-go when half of the people on the trip were professional drivers, and apparently, so were ordinary cars. 

The porter took the bags out of the trunk and Lando handed the keys to the valet driver before they entered the hotel. Y/N took a seat in one of the luxurious chairs in the hotel lobby while she let her brother manage the check-in. She was people-watching when the group joined her.

“Okay… So, there’s been a little mishap…” Y/N looked at her brother with narrowed eyes.

“What did you do?” She said in a low tone.

“So, I may have forgotten to book an extra room for you…” Max admitted.

“What?”

“And they have no other rooms left, even the most expensive ones are taken.”

“Please tell me you’re joking.” 

“I’m not,” he paused, “but, you can share with Lando.”

Of course, Lando would oh-so-heroically offer to share his room with her. She could just smack the smirk right off his face.

“Max, can I talk to you for a minute – in private?” Y/N asked, an innocent smile on her face, before forcefully pulling her brother aside.

“I can’t sleep in the same room as Lando, Max. I had plans for this vacation, plans that can’t happen if I’m sharing a room with Lando.”

Max raised an eyebrow at her insinuation but didn’t comment on it. “Well, what other option do you have?” He said, crossing his arms.

“I could share a room with Pietra, and you can share with Lando…” she suggested, smiling up at her brother sweetly. “Please?”

Max sighed. “I don’t know about that, Y/N. Pietra and I have plans too, you know. Plans that include nightly activities. In bed,” He clarified.

Y/N pulled a face of disgust but offered her brother the same courteousness of ignoring the comment. “Are you serious, Max? You’re okay with me, your little baby sister, sharing a room – a bed, with Lando Norris? You know well enough that he’s always trying to get into my pants. This is your fault, you know. You told me you had taken care of everything.”

“I don’t like this as much as you do, but there’s not really another choice, is there?”

“Yes, there is. I told you, I can room with—”

“Y/N. Don’t be childish, you’ll be fine sharing a room for a few nights.”

“He’s going to try to take my innocence, Max. You can’t let that happen. You’re my big brother. You’re supposed to protect me, not throw me into the lion’s den.” Y/N tried, pulling out all the stops in the hope Max would change his mind. There was no other card she could play. She was tugging on his arm, practically begging him in the middle of the hotel lobby. If Lando and Pietra didn’t already know what was going on, they sure would know now.

Max rolled his eyes. “Your innocence has been gone for years, I’m sure,” Y/N gasped in offence, “It’s not going to work, make the best of it, yeah?” He concluded, patting her back before walking back to the group. 

She watched as her brother walked away, frustration clear on her face, but she joined him only a couple of seconds later; she needed to make the best of this, after all, and it was too late to go home now.

As her eyes met Lando’s, she could already feel a wave of irritation come over her. He was standing casually, the stupid sunglasses still perched on his nose, hands tucked in his pockets, and a smirk plastered on his face as if he knew exactly how her conversation had gone.

“You really don’t want to share a bed with me, do you?” He asked her as soon as she was near enough.

Y/N crossed her arms, glaring at him. “What gave it away?”

“Could’ve been the part where you begged your brother not to throw you into the lion’s den,” Lando said, raising his eyebrows playfully. “Or maybe the part where you said I’m always trying to get into your pants.” He feigned hurt, putting a hand over his chest. “All those years of flirting down the drain…”

He chuckled softly at her angry expression, the sound infuriatingly smug. “Look, you’re making this into a bigger deal than it is. But don’t worry,” he added, his voice dropped as he leaned closer, “I’ll be the gentleman here. You can take the couch.”

Y/N blinked. “What?” She hissed.

“The couch, it’s all yours. I’ll suffer through the luxury of the bed.” He sighed dramatically before turning toward the elevator, casually slinging his bag over his shoulder.

“See you upstairs, roommate,” he winked, stepping inside as the doors slid shut.

Her jaw was slack as she watched him disappear behind the sliding doors. She turned to Max angrily, “What the fuck is wrong with him? Did he fall on his head as a child or something?”

Pietra laughed softly as she wrapped her arms around Max’s waist. “He’s just teasing you, Y/N. It’ll be fine. Come on, let’s go up.”

– – – – –

“I’m not sleeping on the couch,” Y/N said as soon as she entered the room.

“Oh, hello. Good to see you.” Lando smiled smugly from his position on the bed.

She glared at him – if looks could kill he’d be dead ten times over by now. “Get. Off. My. Bed.” She forced out through her gritted teeth.

Lando stretched out even further on the bed, hands behind his head. “Your bed? If I’m not mistaken, you were an afterthought to this vacation. This room was originally mine. You should be glad I’m kind enough to share it with you.”

Y/N stared at him. She wanted to rebuke him and tell him to stay on the couch, but he was right – although she’d never admit it to his face. He was doing her a favour by sharing his room, but he would never be chivalrous enough to sacrifice his bed. She took a deep breath. “Fine,” she said, her voice cold and direct. “I guess we’ll share the bed.”

“Fine with me,” Lando said offhandedly as he messed with the remote control.

“Alright, then. I’ll go get ready for dinner.” 

The silence that settled over the room was awkward, at best. Y/N felt Lando’s eyes pricking in her back as she did her makeup, and the eye contact through the mirror didn’t make it any better.

“What?” She asked, hoping for some conversation to fill the quiet.

“Nothing,” Lando responded, averting his eyes and continuing to browse through the series and movies on the TV.

Y/N frowned at the response. She’ll have to raise a topic of conversation herself, then. “Why is it so cold in here?” She asked.

“I don’t know,” Lando retorted.

“Do you think it’s cold or are you okay with the temperature?” She continued, but Lando merely shrugged in response.

Y/N sighed, setting down her brush and powder before getting up to look at the air-conditioning setting. In contrast to the rest of the room, it was an old-fashioned system with a disk with a pointer to set the temperature. She turned the disk, but the pointer didn’t move.

“Are you getting hotter?” She asked confused, not feeling a temperature difference in the air blowing out of the air conditioner. 

“Don’t even try,” she added quickly before Lando could respond, already seeing the smirk form on his face.

It quickly changed into an innocent smile, “What? I was just going to say I don’t feel a difference.”

“Mhm, sure. I think the air conditioner is broken. I turned the temperature up, but it’s not getting any warmer…”

Lando got up from the bed with a sigh and walked closer to look at the buttons himself. 

“You don’t have to get so close…” Y/N commented when she felt his breath hitting her neck.

“I’m trying to see what the buttons say, Y/N. I have to get close in order to do that.”

“You’re getting in my personal space.”

“Personal space? What’s that? I thought we were past the formalities.”

Y/N huffed, crossing her arms. 

“I don’t know why it’s not working,” Lando continued, “It must be broken,” he concluded before walking back to the bed. 

“What? Can’t you fix it?”

Lando looked at Y/N incredulously, “How am I supposed to fix it?”

“I don’t know… Aren’t you good with technology and stuff?”

“That thing is ancient, Y/N.”

She huffed. She’d just have to deal, then. She quickly changed into one of her dresses and finished her hair.

“Aren’t you going to change?” She asked Lando, who was still lying on the bed in his plane clothes.

“Hm?”

“We’re leaving any minute now. It’d be nice if you changed into something decent for dinner. We’re not eating at some dive bar, you know.”

Lando rolled his eyes and sighed, “Don’t you ever get tired of yourself?”

“Excuse me?” she retorted, crossing her arms as she stared him down, about to scold him when there was a knock on the door.

“You’re lucky this time,” she added, before letting Max and Pietra in. 

She plastered a sweet smile on her face and complimented Pietra on her outfit.

“I can say the same about you,” Pietra responded kindly, pulling Y/N in for a hug.

“Oh, you’re too sweet,” Y/N waved off her comment.

“Are you ready to leave?” Max cuts in.

“Yes, don’t know about Lando though. He wouldn’t change.”

“I’m ready,” he interjected. “I don’t need as much time as some people here,” he said with a teasing smile.

“Okay, let’s go.” Max pulled her out of the room before Y/N could respond, her mouth already open to rebut his rude comment.

“Did you hear that, Max? How on earth am I supposed to get through the night – let alone the entire vacation – when he talks to me like that? I swear, I’m going to strangle him in his sleep—” 

“Let’s not do that. You just need to adjust a little bit.”

“Did you hear what he said before? He asked me if I never get tired of myself. Do you know how insulting that is? He’s absolutely insufferable! His ego’s way too big, he could use someone to knock it down for him,” Y/N kept rambling as Max led her to the elevator, basically pushing her in before she quieted down.

Pietra and Lando joined them only a few seconds later, and the cocky grin on Lando’s face showed he knew exactly how much he had ticked her off, and the enjoyment he took from it. Y/N glared at him throughout the elevator ride. However, despite his earlier comments and the way he had annoyed her all day – if not all her life – she couldn’t deny he looked good. 

The white shirt he had changed into, with the top buttons open and the sleeves rolled up, accentuated his muscled arms, and allowed her to see the glimmer of the silver chain around his neck – she had to admit he was attractive. When Lando caught her looking she quickly averted her gaze, looking at her nails as she picked at them. But he had already noticed, his grin only becoming cockier. The confidence with which he carried himself, although extremely frustrating and unnecessary, had caught her eye along with all the other girls’, but it wasn’t enough to make up for his annoying behaviour.

– – – – –

The dinner was uncomfortable. 

Of course, Y/N and Lando had to be seated across from each other. And if the discussions earlier that day didn’t display their dislike for each other, the lack of conversation at the dinner table certainly did. They didn’t exchange a single word until Y/N snapped at him.

“Would you stop looking at me?” 

Her patience had worn thin after feeling his eyes on her every other second, but Lando merely smirked at the annoyance in her voice, “Where else am I supposed to look?” he asked innocently.

“I don’t know. Your food, maybe?” She shot back.

Lando raised his hands in surrender, before turning his attention to Max and Pietra, who were deep in conversation. Y/N tried to focus on their discussion, but the persistent feeling of Lando’s gaze on her was impossible to ignore. Every time their eyes met, his smirk only grew, making her jaw clench tighter.

When the meal came to an end, Y/N was more than ready to leave. She quickly collected her bag and jacket before joining Pietra on the walk back. With Lando far away from her, she could finally relax and talk comfortably, without being distracted by a pair of eyes burning holes in her face. The group quickly made their way back to the hotel, and after the elevator ride, Y/N and Lando were once again left alone.

“It’s cold in here,” she mumbled, switching the lights on as she entered the hotel room.

“You don’t say,” he responded sarcastically.

Y/N sighed, deciding to ignore the comment and rather focus on the problem at hand. “Okay, we should probably discuss how we’re going to do this…” Lando looked at her confusedly, so she continued, “As concluded earlier today, we’ll share the bed. I’ll take the left side if that’s okay?” 

Lando nodded, so she continued, “The bed is big, so if you dare cross over to my side, I’ll choke you in your sleep—” 

“Ooh, kinky,” he interjected, and Y/N flashed him a fake smile, “or I’ll tell Max, and he’ll handle it for me,” she finished.

Now, usually, Lando wouldn’t care much for her threats, but he knew Max was protective over his sister and from experience, Lando also knew that Max would indeed fuck him up if he crossed Y/N’s boundaries. He was actually surprised that Max was okay with him and Y/N sharing a room; he was usually up her ass whenever she so much as stood near a man. He didn’t know whether to be glad about it or not; did Max think Lando was like a brother to his sister, that nothing would ever happen between them, or did he trust him enough not to do anything without her permission? 

“Fine, fine. I promise I’ll be a perfect gentleman,” he told her.

Y/N squinted her eyes at him. 

“I will,” he repeated. 

She wasn’t sure whether to believe him or not, but the sincerity in his voice suited her a bit. She nodded and quickly changed into her pyjamas in the bathroom before slipping under the covers on the left side of the bed – as promised. She lay on her side, facing away from the right side where Lando would soon settle. She stayed as close to the edge as she could without falling off, so much so that Lando raised an eyebrow at her when he returned.

“You okay over there? Not lonely or cold or anything? I could warm you up if you like,” he suggested, the amusement evident in his tone.

“I’m fine,” she muttered. She wasn’t really, though. The room was freezing with the air conditioner still blasting cold air, and the thin comforter, which would normally be fine for the temperatures outside, wasn’t helping much.

She felt the bed move as Lando shifted, but she stayed silent, quietly staring out the window where she could just barely make out the street lanterns through the thin curtains. Although she pretended not to care (and would continue to do so), being this close to him made her uneasy – not because she didn’t trust him, although she wasn’t entirely convinced yet, but because of how aware she was of him. His presence, the warmth radiating from his body, and the faint scent of his cologne were all impossible to ignore in this proximity.

She closed her eyes, willing herself to fall asleep, but her mind refused to quiet. Despite everything, she couldn’t stop thinking about how he had actually been pretty decent at dinner –  apart from his frustrating staring habit – and how relaxed, confident, and hot he looked in that shirt… She hated how easily he affected her and how only he could wind her up without any effort at all.

– – – – –

Part 2

[sacklerscumrag]

Metalhead Next Door

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Notes: hello :) i got the sudden urge to write for eddie munson today for some reason lol

i'm apologizing in advance for how bad it probably is. please keep in mind that i havent written anything in a long time, let alone for eddie

but if you do read it for whatever reason, thank you i love you im giving you a big kiss rn <3

Warnings: neighbors to lovers, jealous!reader, pining, oral sex (f receiving)

Word Count: 1.4K

A loud rumble from a run-down truck rang outside your trailer window, jolting you from sleep. The book you abandoned some hours ago slid off your chest as you sat on the bed to peek outside. Snow continued to fall and hardened on the window sill from earlier that morning, each flake a silent whisper against the palm of your hand as you held it out in the icy air. Metal music blared through the familiar window across from yours, drawing your attention toward the warm glow coming from inside. An overpowering scent of weed lingered between the two trailers—something you'd found comfort in within the last couple of months of living next door to the Munsons. Of course, you'd heard the rumors where Eddie was concerned, and you'd have to be blind not to see how people treated him around here. Everyone ignored him, wrote him off as a freak while telling the tale of the long-haired devil-worshiping drug dealer to anyone who would listen. But after almost a year of living next to Eddie, you realized that couldn't be further from the truth.

The first night, Eddie crept up on your front porch when you weren't looking, making himself comfortable on the wooden staircase, offering whatever joint he was nursing—all leather jacket and wild hair with a grin that could warm you to your core if you let yourself admire him for a little too long. Since then, you'd meet Eddie outside once everyone had gone to bed and let his wild D&D stories carry you through the night. The world around you seemed to soften around Eddie, swallowed up by the relentless comfort of his presence. Even when he was gone, one last tiny blaze of warmth and light continuously flickered in your chest for him.

The night air was crisp, making you cling to your blanket that much tighter as you curled up in bed. You nearly jumped when you heard a thump against your bedroom window, a snowball crumbling as another landed against the window pane.

"You're not gonna make me wait out here until I freeze, are you?" Eddie's voice trickled in from outside, making you smile before quickly opening the window and letting him climb in. "It's fucking freezing out there. Hey, sweetheart." Your heart warmed at the nickname as he brushed past you, flopped down on your mattress, and picked up your abandoned book. His hair looked like he'd run his hand through it far too many times today; the snow still crunched as he crossed one boot over another as scattered icicles clung to his jacket's leather and denim patches.

"Well, it's no D&D book, but-." Eddie teased before you cut him off by snatching the book, placing it on your bedside table, and settling beside him. He smirked, clearly pleased with himself for getting to you so quickly.

"So what's new with you, Munson?" You said as you sank next to him, sneaking glances whenever he wasn't looking.

"Same shit, different day. I learned a new Metallica song last week, gonna play it at our gig."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, I'll play it for you sometime." You smiled at that. "Oh shit, I was supposed to call Dustin." Eddie dramatically sat up on your bed and sighed.

"Dustin? Was it important?"

"Yeah, sort of; he's been trying to set me up with this girl. Or was it Steve setting me up? All I know is I went out with her last week, and now I gotta be at Family Video tomorrow at 6 to pick out a movie for whatever the fuck a double date movie night is." Your heart sank. Eddie was being set up; he was dating someone. And it wasn't you. Figures. He would never see you as more than a friend; all you ever did was hang out and talk about D&D; he could do that with any of his other friends. This shouldn't surprise you, but that didn't make it sting any less than it did.

"Hey, you okay?" Eddie noticed your silence amidst his rambling. You were seemingly lost in your thoughts as you toyed with your fingers. Something had shifted; your warm presence from just a minute ago felt frigid and distant.

"Yeah." You wiped the tears welling in your eyes and stood from the bed, suddenly needing to put as much distance between you as possible. "Just tired, I'm just gonna go to bed." The mere thought of Eddie snuggling up on a couch with some girl made your chest feel like it would cave in any second. You quickly turned toward your window to open it, unable to face him without fear of bursting into tears.

"Sweetheart, if I did something to piss you off, I'm sorry."

"You didn't just please…I want to go to bed." Your tone was firmer than Eddie had ever heard from you. He should go, head out through the window, and call it a night. But he couldn't. "Please." Your voice slightly cracked, and with it, a piece of Eddie's heart at the realization. When you managed to turn around, his chest was inches from your face, tenderness filling those big, brown, beautiful eyes darting back at you. His ring-clad hand cupped your cheek, skimming over your skin delicately like you would break under his touch.

Before you knew it, your mouth was on his. Your arms around his neck; he tasted like cigarettes and mint from the gum he anxiously chewed before you came in. It was intoxicating. Chills spread across your skin when his hands slid across your waist, pressing you closer to him. It didn't take long for Eddie's need for you to become apparent with feverish hands pushing you back until the desk bumped against your ass; Eddie tapped your thigh to signal you to sit on the hard surface, standing in between your legs and trailing his lips down to your neck and chest. Your hands tangled in his curls, breathing in as much of him as possible before he pulled away slightly.

"Eddie." You paused, studying his face for a moment; face flushed, hair tussled, and lips swollen and pink from your own; he was perfect. "I'm sorry. I should've told you how I felt, I-. Eddie's lips interrupted you with a searing but brief kiss as he spoke against your lips.

"Don't you dare apologize. I've been waiting so fucking long for this." A smile spread across your face, and relief flooded your chest. You tugged on his vest to draw him back to your lips as his hands began to knead your thighs, core clenching at the feeling. Whimpers escaped you from just his lips on your skin. His mouth worked its way along your neck, lifting your shirt and continuing to work his way down until he was kneeling before you.

"Can I?" You nodded as Eddie's ring-clad fingers hooked onto your shorts, pulling them off and discarding them on the floor along with your underwear. He hooked one leg over his shoulder and kissed the delicate skin of your inner thigh. "God, you have no idea how bad I've needed to taste you." Your breath hitched when you felt his tongue begin expertly working along your folds, then back toward your clit. It wasn't long before he slipped a finger inside you, then another. The chill of his rings pressing on your most sensitive spots as he plunged them in and out of you had you arching your back and squeezing your thighs tighter around Eddie. Your chest heaved; every whimper and moan that escaped was like music to his ears. Eddie consumed you like a man starved; it was like the more pleasure he drew from you, the more he wanted. He couldn't get enough. He teased your clit between his lips and began to suck hard. Eddie's movements were relentless. Your eyes screwed shut, and your core tightened until it snapped. Eddie's hand dug into the flesh of your hips to hold you in place as you squirmed against him until you were practically pushing him away. He could see the blissed look on your face as he stood and wrapped your legs around his waist, carrying you over to bed. Once you were settled, Eddie stepped toward the still-open window.

"Don't go," you whispered; a pang of fear hit you. Eddie smirked to himself before shutting the window securely, throwing his jacket on your nightstand, and crawling in beside you.

"Don't worry, sweetheart." He placed a kiss on your forehead. "I'm not going anywhere."

[fastandcarlos]

Missing Piece : ̗̀➛ Oscar Piastri

summary: you’re supposed to be used to oscar going anyway by now, but no matter how hard you try, it still hurts just as much

“As soon as I land, I promise I’ll give you a call, make sure that you don’t have too much fun without me.”

Your head nodded as you buried it into the crook of Oscar’s neck, refusing to let him see you, scared of what would happen.

He smiles down at you, kissing against the top of your head.

Like you, he’s trying his best to hold it together, reassuring himself that it’s only a couple of weeks and that the two of you have spent longer apart before. You could still text, still call, but it was never quite the same. Oscar knew you masked a lot, you tried not to be bothered when it was time for him to go, but deep down he knew every time stung just a little bit more than the last.

A final kiss was pressed to the side of your head as Oscar unwrapped his arms from around you, taking a hold of his suitcase as your eyes fell to the ground.

Your voice was almost silent as you said goodbye to Oscar, unable to bring yourself to watch as he closed the door of your apartment. On the other side, he sighs, knowing that the silence is how it needs to be in order for you to survive.

Straight away the silence in your apartment makes you tense up, struggling to picture yourself getting back to life with Oscar by your side. Once you were sure his car had had enough time to drive away, you finally let yourself fall. First one tear fell, quickly followed by another, and then another, until you were laid out on your sofa relentless wiping underneath your eyes. The scent of Oscar’s jumper that you wore only made things worse, he was almost there with you, to comfort you, but not quite.

Several shaky breaths came from you as you looked around the place, little reminders of Oscar placed around the rooms as he had all but moved himself into your place.

The kitchen was still full of his favourite snacks, the music playing in the background was still his playlist that he had been so excited to show you, many items of his clothing were hung on your radiators, unable to dry them in the blistery winter breeze.

Each sight makes you weaker and weaker, makes your heart ache more, silently crying out for Oscar to return to you and end your nightmare.

Every time Oscar went away it was the same old story, you tried to convince yourself that this time would be the time when you’d crack on, prove to yourself that you didn’t need Oscar to survive, but each time you failed. Maybe you’d last a day or two at most, but then you’d encounter a job or a sign of him that would send you spiralling back to the beginning again.

You found yourself alone again, on the other side of the world to the true place that you called home.

Oscar hated himself for being the reason you left behind everything, as much as you tried to convince him that you loved Monaco, he knew you wanted more. Times like these, when he left you all alone, more than anything you wanted the comfort of your family with you to scoop you up and keep you going.

Whenever the two of you spoke about it you reassured Oscar that he was worth it, that you were willing to make the sacrifice in order to make your dreams together succeed. But a small part of you had also hoped that it would all get easier, and it was anything but.

Admittedly, you were lost without Oscar, he’d been gone two minutes and already you found yourself a crumpled mess in your living room, wondering if you were going to survive.

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Meanwhile, driving down to the airport, Oscar isn’t sitting pretty either. He’s restless, going through his list in his head once again, sensing that something isn’t quite the way it’s meant to be. Beside him Lando watches him closely, wondering what’s got into him as Oscar frantically searches through his rucksack to find what he’s looking for.

“It’s got to be in here somewhere,” he whispers to himself, searching through every single pocket. “I knew I should’ve put it in a safer place,” he continued to scold, getting more and more stressed.

Lando kept his eyes on him, “what on earth has gotten into you? Surely it can’t be that important, whatever it is.”

Oscar shot a glare across at Lando.

It was more important than anyone could ever imagine, and he refused to go any further until he had it in his hands.

“What are you going to do?” Lando asked after Oscar asked for the driver to stop the car and let him think for a moment.

Oscar glanced back across at his friend, shrugging his shoulders at the fact that they were already running late for their flight.

“I’ve got no choice, I need to go home again.”

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

It had only been a few minutes, but already Oscar had missed you, already Oscar was excited to be reunited with you again. He sent his apologies to everyone before entering your apartment block, racing up the stairs.

He was bouncing on his heels, as if the two of you were going to see each other after weeks apart as he pulled out his key. He fumbled slightly as he placed the key into the lock, turning it sharply and bursting into the room.

Oscar shot into the room, glancing everywhere to catch a glimpse of you, only when he did, his heart sunk. The key dropped to the floor, expression shattering, words failing him. You were too wrapped up in yourself to even notice that Oscar had returned, your sobs being the only noise in the room.

Whilst silently, the guilt of it all ate away at Oscar.

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

“I can’t wait to tell you all about it.”

“I can’t wait to hear all about it,” you responded, smiling widely as Oscar told you about the fight that had happened during the McLaren team dinner that night, only wishing that you’d been there to see it.

“Luckily me and Lando managed to sneak out before we got caught in the crossfire,” he assured you, giggling away to himself. “It’s going to be so awkward at the team briefing tomorrow morning.”

As Oscar spoke, you were slightly thankful you weren’t there and a part of it.

It had been a couple of days since Oscar left, and after the scene that unfolded that he left, he promised to call you every free second of the day that he had, refusing to leave you alone with your own thoughts for too long.

“I bet things are a lot busier here than they are at home,” Oscar smirked, almost envious of the calm environment you found yourself in.

His eyes lit up, enough to bring a smile to your face too.

“Your mum has been ringing me nonstop, I don’t know what you’ve said to her.”

“Not a lot,” he chuckled, lying through his teeth, “I just mentioned things were a little bit tricky for you.”

“A little bit?” You challenged, raising your eyebrow at Oscar. “I think your mum thinks I’m on the verge of a breakdown, you know she’s forcing me to send her a photo every time I have something to eat.”

“Good,” Oscar responded, failing to see the problem with what you were saying. “No one’s there to check up on you love, at least if mum is keeping an eye on you then I know too that you’re taking good care of yourself.”

You gasped, hand over heart, offended that Oscar had taken his mum’s side rather than your own. He knew you were only messing as he mocked your reaction, stunned that you didn’t see how caring his mum was being.

“If it helps, would you like me to send you photos of my food too?” Oscar offered, continuing to tease you. “I know you love race day food.”

Your eyes narrowed at him, you didn’t just love race day food, it was your obsession. Secretly, it was the only reason you actually went and supported Oscar.

“I’ll block you,” you warned, “and then no one will be able to check up on me, I’ll just live in my own little bubble of peace and quiet in the apartment.”

Oscar’s head shook as he took a sip from the drink beside him, glancing on the clock at his bedside that was getting later and later. You knew that Oscar wasn’t brave enough to tell you what he was thinking, but you knew his expression well enough by now to know that he was starting to get sleepy and needed to rest for work tomorrow.

As he looked at the screen again, Oscar knew that you knew exactly what he was hinting at too.

“I’m sorry.”

Your head shook, refusing to listen to him. “Don’t be stupid, you’ve got work, it’s important that you’re ready for tomorrow.”

“I promise that I’ll speak to you in the morning,” Oscar insisted, shuffling around on the bed so that he was laid down, phone above his head. “I’ll keep you updated as much as I can with how tomorrow goes.”

He did a good job of keeping you in the loop, tried his best to share as many updates as he possibly could with you. It wasn’t always easy, and at times Oscar had to be very sneaky, but it would be worth it to get your reply and know just how proud of him you were.

“You’ll sleep soon too, won’t you?” Oscar quizzed, doing the math in his head to know that it wasn’t far off getting late for you either.

“I will now that I’ve spoken to you,” you hummed, happy to let Oscar go for the night, and happy to know that you’d been sleeping much more comfortably too.

“I love you, wish me luck for tomorrow.”

“You don’t need luck Oscar…I love you.”

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

He’s barely able to sit still as Oscar listens to yet another gate call, hoping this time it’s for him, but not quite. His frustration builds and builds, restlessly fidgeting whilst Lando sits beside him as if he’s got all the time in the world.

Knowing how close you were only hurt Oscar more now. He was desperate to be back where he belonged, back with his best friend and back in the place that he called home. He’d been away from the missing piece in his life for too long, and now he was ready to fix the jigsaw that was his life again.

The journey felt like an age, every slight stop tormented Oscar, knowing it was pushing the time of his arrival further and further back.

What hurt him the most though was the lies, the ignorance he had for you. When he landed and turned his phone back on he was met by dozens of calls and texts, most of them full of panic. He hated that he couldn’t tell you the truth, but his mum had assured him that she would try and keep you as calm as possible.

The car barely had time to stop when it pulled up outside your home, Oscar was out like a bullet, grabbing his belongings and racing up the stairs. Standing outside your door, he composed himself, taking a deep breath in and out before knocking on the door, hoping that you were home.

You weren’t expecting anyone, lazily moving across to the door. A sigh came from you as you took the latch off, pulling down on the handle and opening the door, slowly turning your eyes up.

Oscar’s smile was bright as your eyes met, a chuckle came from him, relieved to see you and see for himself that you were alright. It took you a moment to realise who was before you, but as soon as you did, you were stepping forwards, throwing yourself into Oscar’s arms and legs wrapping around his frame.

He barely had a moment to react, Oscar dropping his case and catching you just as quickly.

There were no words spoken for a while as you both let the reality set in. Your head was buried closely into the crook of Oscar’s neck, this time trying to compose yourself for a different reason. Your tears were no longer of sadness, but of overwhelming joy to have Oscar home.

“You’re not supposed to be here yet,” you laughed, pulling back and meeting Oscar’s eyes once again. “Y-you’re here early,” you commented, pressing a kiss against the tip of his nose.

Oscar nodded proudly, “we were finished and I couldn’t wait any longer, I just wanted to get back and be with you again. I’ve missed you so much, it’s been so hard being away from you this time.”

The grip that you had on Oscar was bone-crushing, filled with happiness knowing that you weren’t going to be by yourself anymore. It didn’t matter anymore where you were in the world anymore, just the fact that Oscar was back with you again was enough to make everything alright.

“How come you changed your mind? How did you convince Zac to let you come home?” You quizzed, feeling Oscar carry you across and down onto the sofa.

“I had my ways,” Oscar proudly joked, “I’m kidding, we had everything sorted so I could fly earlier. Told him that I couldn’t wait to get home any longer to my missing piece and he sent me on my way.”

You’re missing piece?”

Oscar nodded in reply to you, “of course, the one thing that was missing to make me my happiest. I had work, I was in my race car, but you weren’t there, so everything wasn’t quite fulfilled.”

“That’s cute,” you whispered.

And Oscar meant every word of it too, it was no understatement how important you were to him, and knowing that you’d been having such a tricky time of things recently only left him feeling worse whenever he had to go away.

“Please tell me you don’t have to leave now, or any time soon,” you whispered to Oscar, terrified that your moment was going to be cut short and he was going to be pulled off into another direction to complete yet another task.

“I’m all yours, I promise, I don’t plan on going anywhere for a very long time my love.”

“Good,” you smirked, cupping either side of Oscar’s face and pressing a kiss to his lips. You’d experienced the hurt, the longing, the bitterness and jealousy, but at last you were able to experience the happiness again, the relief that Oscar was back with you and he was right there to be able to take care of you.

And luckily for you, it was a job that he absolutely adored too.”

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[obaex]

four - hockey player!ex!rafe cameron (pt. 1)

summary: rafe knows he's screwed up, but when he offers you a way to make amends, you can't resist. the catch? he'll have to do the impossible.

word count: 1.8k

a/n: rafe is slightly toxic in this ngl! i am in love with this. hockey romance is very near and dear to me (this is v loosely based on a real life experience). *mwah*

You saw your phone light up out of the corner of your eye and lowered your mascara wand as you leaned over to glance at the screen and let out a shaky sigh.

A part of you knew the right thing to do by now was to block his number. You hadn't responded to a single message he'd sent for over two weeks. And the messages had been relentless.

I'm thinking about you in the afternoons.

Hi beautiful in the mornings.

I'm sorry.

You're still my girl.

And on and on, escalating to paragraphs at night, as he typed out things he'd never once said out loud to you before; about how he felt the first time he met you, the things his teammates said, about how Wheezie was asking about you and Sarah spent an hour on the phone lecturing him, about how he'd do anything to get you back.

Reading his messages was like drinking a honied poison that went down sweet, warming every inch of you, only to make you sick in the end. But you couldn't stop. You couldn't block him. And even though you'd made him think you were ignoring him, you craved every message, every word he said something you had ached to hear when he had the chance.

Now it was two hours before the biggest game of the season, arguably one of the biggest of his career. He should be focusing on his pregame routine, on his way to the rink, if he wasn't there already and instead here he was texting you. You were the one on his mind and you drank that poison down, allowing yourself to feel special, even if the text had made no sense to you.

How many?

How many what?

His last message before that was from a couple of hours ago, before his pregame nap, the one you often took together as he had reminded you, in excruciating detail.

Your fingers twitched with the urge to reply. You knew he was baiting you into responding, but you swallowed down the urge and took a deep breath to still your beating heart and went back to applying your makeup, dragging up the same memory you did every time you were tempted by him.

It was just after 2AM, and you were sitting in your car that you had driven to his apartment, unable to sleep, desperate to talk to him. He lounged in the passenger seat, staring straight ahead at the windshield, tracking the rain that was falling steadily.

"Can you please talk to me?" you whispered, trying so hard not to come across as needy or desperate.

"What do you want me to say?" he asked, shrugging, avoiding your eye contact.

"I don't know, just tell me what's going on with you? You barely talk to me anymore, you won't even look at me. Did I do something?"

He shrugged again and you felt physically sick. Maybe it was because you couldn't remember the last thing you'd eaten, the last time you'd slept more than a few fitful hours, all consumed with the feeling that your five-year relationship was running off the rails. Rumors were flying that there was another girl... or girls... And when you had asked him about it, he brushed it off, not strongly enough to give you even an ounce of comfort. You were falling apart. And he was letting it happen. He was forcing you to end this, too cowardly to do it himself.

"Do you even want to be with me anymore?" you whispered, barely audible over the pounding rain, like maybe if he didn't hear you, he couldn't answer.

He rubbed his hand over his face and sighed loudly, frustrated, like you were just so annoying to him, and you wished you could suck your words back into your mouth.

"I have practice in like four hours, I can't be doing this with you right now" he said, aptly avoiding the conversation again.

Your chin was wobbling and you bit back everything you wanted to say, not wanting to be needy, or nagging, hoping if you were on your very best behavior he would have a change of heart, change his mind.

You pursed your lips and nodded, averting your gaze to look out at the rain and gathering the strength you needed to say the words that felt like nails in your mouth.

"I can't do this anymore" you whimpered, as tears fell that matched the droplets on your windshield. "I can't keep giving 100% and getting nothing in return. I'm sitting here spilling my heart out to you and you won't even look at me. After everything we've been through... You won't even deny that you hooked up with her."

Silence.

You could see him grimace, the tic in his jaw as he pushed his tongue into his cheek. You wanted to grab the front of his sweatshirt, shake him and scream 'SAY SOMETHING!'. But you didn't. And his silence persisted a moment longer.

"So that's it then?" he said finally, like you had any other choice.

You wiped futilely at the tears that were now pouring down your face, even as you tried to hold them back, sniffling with a shaky breath to avoid outright sobbing in front of him.

He opened the car door, got out, slamming it forcefully behind him without so much as a glance your way and you broke down. You didn't make it one block before you had to pull over. You couldn't see, you couldn't breath, and you couldn't hold your hands steady on the wheel you were shaking so badly. You threw your car in park, lay your head on the steering wheel and cried.

Two days passed before the first text came in.

"I'm sorry" is all it said.

You could see the bubbles at the bottom of the screen, indicating that he was still typing before more messages appeared.

At this point you were grasping your phone with both hands, like a lifeline, eyes glued to the screen, heart hammering so hard in your chest you felt nauseous and your hands were shaking. There was a chance, a glimmer, a hope and you were clinging to it.

Your fingers hovered over your phone, ready to forgive him, to forget, to run right back to the way things had been, to have him looking for you at the end of every game, for stolen kisses in the parking lot at the arena, to whispered I love yous as you fell asleep in his arms. And then more messages came flooding in.

More messages were coming now but you couldn't read any further. Your heart was battering around your ribcage like a pinball machine with the whiplash of information: your boyfriend of five years had been actively texting another girl... because she was easygoing, and fun to talk to and didn't stress him out… like you did.

Your tears were back like no time had passed from the night you broke up, heavy sobs coming from your mouth at how stupid you felt, at all the rumors being true. And did you really believe that nothing more had happened between them? He was Rafe fucking Cameron of the Carolina Eagles.

Your eyes skimmed over the second half of his message, about how you were it for him, about how much he loved you, how he wanted to marry you and for you to have his babies?? The ache of wanting that so desperately to be true and knowing it couldn't be was too much for you as you turned and cried into your pillow.

You recalled all of those messages now as a new one came in. You shoved your finger into the bruise on your heart, forcing yourself to feel that pain again, to imagine him laying in bed, in the bed you had slept in with him, while he texted another girl, maybe even texted both of you at the same time, and you refocused on your makeup.

You had faithfully followed the Eagles for five years, his teammates were some of your best friends, like brothers to you. Despite everything that had happened with Rafe, you weren't going to miss their game tonight. Rafe's best friend and linemate Nick had texted you earlier in the week to let you know he had a ticket for you.

Fine. It was hard to say no to that. Everyone you knew would be there anyway and you didn't need Rafe thinking he had power over you if you weren't there. So, you were going. And you decided if you were going to go you were going to look stunning, and as you put the finishing touches on your makeup, there was no doubt in your mind that you were.

You had spent more time on your hair and makeup than potentially every other game that season combined. You may have gotten a little comfy towards the end, wearing Rafe's team-issued sweatshirt with his name and number on it and a pair of leggings. He claimed that he loved you in that, but that wouldn't cut it tonight. You wore skintight jeans that accentuated every perfect curve of your body, heeled booties and a tight-fitting long sleeve shirt. Your hair was immaculate and your makeup was admittedly a little extra for an AHL game, but effortless nonetheless as it amplified your natural beauty. The pain in your heart had been ebbing its way into anger: you were going to make him regret every single thing he'd done, the thought nagging at you as your phone lit up again.

You huffed. You had been strong for weeks, and now he was throwing that at you?

Your perfectly manicured fingers hovered over your phone as you nibbled your glossed bottom lip, and finally relented.

What the hell? you thought, confused.

Feeling pretty good about your level of engagement, you sent another question mark before his response came in.

You scoffed before laughing out loud. He was truly unbelievable. You weren't on some sort of barter system here. This wasn't a deal you had ever discussed nor agreed to. This isn't how the world worked, this isn't how relationships worked. It was stupid. So so stupid. And Rafe wasn't the team's lead goal scorer anyway. Sure he was good for a flashy goal every few games, maybe two, but this was the semi-finals of the league championship, everything was on the line here, it was not the time to be playing games...

...But damn if you didn't love the semblance of power he'd given you over the situation, and you desperately wanted to fuck with him.

Four goals in one game. Essentially impossible. A joke. Sidney Crosby, arguably the best player in the NHL at the moment hadn't even achieved that. But not a second passed before his reply came through, simple, straightforward, no arguing or complaining:

"Done"

And then:

"I love you!"

"I'll be looking for you 😍"

You rolled your eyes, throwing your phone down on your bed, annoyed at yourself for even answering him.

And yet you couldn't fight the smallest bit of excitement you felt.

It was impossible. It was never going to happen, but Rafe Cameron was going to try to win you back.

(part two)

taglist: @gillybear17, @palmwinemami, @moremaybank, @one-sweet-gubler, @m-indkiller, @ihe4rttwd, @diary-of-jj, @crlsummer, @jjsbank444

[annewithaneofthegreengable]

Prinzessin

My masterlist

You lay back on the deck, closing your eyes as the warm sunlight bathed your skin. The gentle rocking of the boat coupled with the sound of the waves was incredibly soothing, and you felt a sense of tranquility wash over you. You took a deep breath, inhaling the salty air and feeling the tension in your body gradually dissolve. Despite the initial annoyance of waking up before Toto, you found a strange sense of peace in being alone with your thoughts, the vast expanse of the ocean acting as a natural salve for your irritation. As you continued to recline on the deck, basking in the sun, you couldn't help but marvel at the stunning beauty of your surroundings. The clear blue sky was dotted with wispy clouds, and the ocean gleamed like a sparkling gem in the sunlight. The boat rocked ever so gently, creating a gentle lulling motion that was both calming and invigorating.

The last few days spent with Toto were nothing less than perfection. When he first brought up the idea of taking you away to celebrate your recent graduate school graduation, you were completely taken back. Toto’s lifestyle and the way he chose to spoil you was something you were still acclimating to. A romantic dinner and a movie? Sure - but to be whisked away on a yacht to the middle of nowhere was something else completely. However, you couldn’t deny that it was nice to finally have some alone time together.

Between the stress of the last few weeks of classes and the Mercedes’ team finally winning two races out of the three during the triple-header, the two of you had barely been able to see each other. After some convincing, you finally agreed to a getaway with Toto for the weekend and you didn’t regret it for a second. Wining and dining you, he had spent the last few days making sure you felt like a princess. Watching the sunset together, eating 5 star meals, taking a swim in the ocean - everything felt like it was straight out of a dream. That’s not including the white hot, passionate sex that filled every other moment of your trip. Toto knew how you treat you but he knew how to treat your body even better.

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps approaching made your eyes flutter open, and you turned your head to see Toto's tall figure making his way towards you. You couldn’t help but giggle at his scrunched up face and wild bed head but as your eyes trailed down his torso you took your bottom lip between your teeth. He wore a turquoise pair of swim trunks and a white button up shirt that was open in the front, exposing his chiseled torso to you.

Toto's face broke into a small smile as he spotted you lying on the deck, a relaxed expression on your features. He made his way over, settling down next to you.

"You're up early," he commented, his voice laced with a hint of surprise. "Normally, I'm the morning person in the relationship." Toto’s voice was low, gravely, and made you clench your thighs together.

“You looked peaceful. I didn’t wanna bother you.” You sat up completely, pushing your sunglasses up to sit on top of your head.

You gave him a playful smirk, still feeling a bit cheeky from your previous annoyance. "Well, even early birds need their beauty sleep, Toto," you retorted, stretching lazily like a cat in the sun.

Toto chuckled, running a hand through his tousled hair. "True," he agreed, his eyes studying you for a moment. "Although, I have to admit, I was enjoying having the bed to myself for once."

You let out a small laugh, amused by his comment. "Oh, don't pretend you don't enjoy my nocturnal disturbances," you teased, giving him a nudge with your shoulder.

Toto feigned a look of mock offense. “Disturbances, huh?” he said, raising an eyebrow. “Is that what we’re calling your relentless bed stealing habits now?”

You let out a mock sniff of disdain. "You're just jealous that my sleeping habits are way more efficient. While you're stuck in one position, I'm maximizing the available bed space," you teased, enjoying the banter.

Toto shook his head in amusement. "Maximizing bed space, huh? More like making it impossible for anyone to get a decent night's sleep."

“You didn’t complain much last night when I kept you up for some rather adult activities” you smirked and said. 

Toto's cheeks flushed slightly at your comment, the memory of the previous night's activities clearly not far from his mind. He cleared his throat, but a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

"Well, I suppose there are some benefits to your... 'bed-stealing habits,'" he conceded, his tone slightly gravelly. 

As Toto looked over to you, the sun glinted off your neck at just the right time, exposing to him that you were wearing the diamond necklace he had gotten you. A devilish grin spread across his face as he squatted down next to you and cupped your neck in his large hand, thumb tracing over the chain of the necklace.

“Here I thought you didn’t like this necklace.” Toto stated, eyes watching as his thumb moved back and forth over the crease of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine that made him grin even more.

“I never said I didn’t like it.” Your voice was soft, barely above a whisper. The smell of his cologne clogging up your senses, making it feel as though your head was in a cloud. “Jus’ said it was too much.”

Toto's smile grew wider as he continued to toy with the necklace around your neck, noticing the effect it was having on you. He leaned in closer, his breath ghosting over your skin.

"Ah, so you do like it, hmmm?" he teased, enjoying how his touch was making you shiver. "You're just too stubborn to admit it, Prinzessin."

You let out a breathless laugh, trying to maintain your composure despite the warmth of his touch and the intoxicating scent of his cologne. "Maybe I just don't want to stroke your ego even more," you countered, giving him a mock glare.

“You can always stroke something else of mine.” He said while looking directly into your eyes, those hazel brown eyes slowly lured you into the wood or somewhere so magically. The way Toto looked at you had always made your heart skip a beat. You didn’t know it was possible for someone to have so much love and adoration in their eyes when they looked at someone. Toto always told you that you were his greatest gift in life and he made it his mission to ensure you felt that way. Although the attention, the love, the gifts, proved to be too much at times, there wasn’t anything you wouldn’t do to get that look from him for the rest of your life.

“And you’re wearing my favorite…” A single finger ran down the strap of your swimsuit top, the coldness of the finger was a stark contrast from how warm your body felt from the sun.

“Not like I had a choice. You ripped the other one yesterday.” You teased.

Toto grinned at the memory of yesterday’s escapade. The man was lucky he was rich because he had a bad habit of ripping your clothes when they didn’t come off quickly enough for his liking.

“I’ll buy you another one.” Toto quipped.

Before you had a chance to respond, he pressed his lips to yours. Almost immediately, his tongue pressed against your lips, begging for access. You could taste mint toothpaste as he swirled his tongue around yours. You sighed into the kiss, feeling your joints buckle as they typically did whenever Toto kissed you. Every kiss you shared was filled with intensity, passion, desire, and made you feel as though you were floating on air. Instead of relying on your arms to keep you upright, you wrapped your arms around his neck and tangled your hands in his messy hair. Toto grinned, going down on one knee to make sure neither of you toppled to the ground. You felt your bottom lip become trapped between his teeth as he pulled away lightly, letting it go at the end.

“I want you to lay back. Can you do that for me, Liebe?” Toto cooed.

This time it was your turn to bite your bottom lip as you nodded, obediently laying back against the deck while you kept your eyes locked to his. As soon as you settled into position, Toto’s body was over yours and you couldn’t help but run your hands along his torso.

“I love seeing you underneath me.” Toto whispered, peppering kisses along your jaw line and tracing them down the column of your throat.

As Toto's lips continue their journey down your throat, sending shivers down your spine, you can't help but arch your back in anticipation. His hands are exploring your body, making your heart race with every touch. His fingers deftly unbutton your shorts, slipping inside to caress the warm skin beneath. He kisses a trail down your sternum, his hot breath making you gasp. Reaching the waistband, he pulls your shorts and panties down in one swift motion, revealing your glistening folds.

With a low growl of desire, Toto buries his face between your thighs, his tongue lapping at your swollen clit. He devours you with a hunger that borders on feral, his fingers spreading your lips wide to grant himself deeper access.

Your back bows off the deck as his tongue plunges into your aching heat, lapping at your walls with a skill that drives you wild. He sucks your clit between his lips, rolling the sensitive bud with his tongue while his fingers curl inside you, stroking that sweet spot that makes your vision blur. With a delicate flick of his tongue, Toto teases your entrance, encouraging you to arch your hips and beg for more. He plunges deep into your wetness with a gusto that has you gripping the edge of the deck

His lips form a tight seal around your throbbing clit as he suckles greedily, his tongue darting and swirling to drive you to the brink. You're a whimpering, mewling mess beneath him, your fingers tangling in his hair as you try to pull him closer.

Toto's tongue is relentless, stroking and circling your sensitive nub with an expertise that borders on cruel. You're a quivering, sobbing mess, your thighs clenching around his head as he feasts on your arousal.

A sigh left your lips once more as you threaded your fingers back into his chestnut hair. It felt as though every hair on your body stood up straight as Toto flickering his eyes up to meet yours, Toto leaned forward and slow up the pace. Your head fell back with a whine as your hips involuntarily jutted toward his mouth.

"Please, Toto, more.." you gasp, your hips bucking against his mouth as he ramp up the intensity. His purring vibrates against your clit, it served you so well right now.

“Oh god.” You groaned, arching your back and pushing your cunt further into his face.

Toto's tongue flickers over your clit, sending sparks of pleasure coursing through your body. Your toes are curling and your legs start to shake uncontrollably as he pushes you over the edge. He pulled back slightly and gathered your folds between his fingers and squeezed them together.

“Such a pretty pussy, Prinzessin. Love seeing the way it’s dripping for me.”

Immediately he was diving back in, letting go of your folds to hold your legs back in place. The obscene slurping noises coming from between your legs had you moaning in pleasure. The feeling of his tongue prodding at your entrance made your hands fly to his hair and your legs lock over his back.

“Go on, Liebe. Use me. Fuck yourself on my tongue.” Toto mumbled, sticking his tongue out and allowing you to rock your core over it.

“Shit, shit, shit. Oh fuck, Toto, I’m-I’m gonna cum.” You squealed, increasing the speed at which you ground yourself against him.

Just like that, you felt the white hot pleasure of your orgasm rip through you, legs shaking slightly as you clenched your thighs around his head. Instead of pulling away, Toto doubled down and dug his fingers into your hips as he pushed his face further into your core. He lapped up your orgasm like he was put on this earth to do so.

The sensitivity from your last orgasm made you jerk away from him, but Toto had no intentions of letting you go.

“Come on, Schatzi. Give me one more, I know you got one more for me.”

Toto pulled back and quickly replaced his tongue with his middle and ring finger, curling them upwards as he thrusted them. At the same time he snaked his hand over the front of your swimsuit top and yanked your breasts free, making sure to pinch and tug on your nipples as he continued his rough pace.

There was no holding back the scream that erupted from your chest as you came for the second time. The orgasm that ripped through you was one that was so intense you could swear your eyes rolled all the way back into your head. Toto placed light kisses over your mound as you came down from your high.

“Good job, Schatzi. You did so good for me.”

Your eyes fluttered open slowly as Toto crawled back over you, grinning at your fucked out state. His nose traced the curve of your jaw as he waited for you to come back to. Licking your lips you pushed on his chest, signaling for him to let you up. As he sat up you followed him, only to push him down to the floor. Toto grinned at you proudly.

“Schatzi you know you don’t have to—“ Toto’s sentence was cut short with a low groan as you ran your hand over the length of him through his shorts.

Quickly ridding him of his swim trunks you took the length of him into your hand and pumped up and down a few times. You’d become wholly familiar with his anatomy in the time you’d been dating, but each time you saw his cock always felt like the first. Toto groaned, lips slightly parted as he looked down at you. Maintaining that eye contact, you leaned in and swirled your tongue around the head.

“Fffuck.” Toto breathed, gathering your hair at the top of your head so he wouldn’t miss a single view of you wrapped around his cock.

Moving down toward the bottom, you licked a stripe up the underside of his cock before taking as much of him in your mouth as you were able. Toto grunted loudly, doing his best to keep his hips from bucking up into your mouth.

“Jesus Christ. You feel so good, Liebe.” Toto praised.

You looked up at him from under your lashes as you continued to suck his cock. The blissed out look on his face made your core throb. There was something about the way you made him feel so good that you absolutely adored. You took your time, taking as much of him as you could as slowly as you could. Other men you were with liked their head messy and fast, but Toto always commented on how much he loved the way you took your time with him.

Pulling away, you continued to stroke him with your hand as you moved down to take his balls into your mouth and suck on them gently. As you began to do so, you felt his cock jump in your hand and a grin spread across your face.

“Fuck, Liebe, stop, stop.” Toto grabbed you and pulled you up.

Crashing his lips to yours, the kiss was needy and messy. Toto held your face tightly in his hands as you scrambled onto his lap. You pushed the shirt off his shoulders and Toto shrugged it off, pulling away to look at you.

“God, you’re gonna be the death of me one day, Schatzi. You make me feel so fuckin’ good.”

Positioning yourself over him, you sank down slowly on to his cock. The stretch was something you still hadn’t gotten used to, but god did it feel incredible. Each and every time you wondered how it was possible to feel so full. Toto grabbed your face and pulled you into another kiss as you allowed yourself to get used to him. Your arms wrapped around his neck and you pulled away from the kiss.

“Please move, Toto.” You panted.

Toto’s hands found their way to your hips as he slowly started to help you move back and forth. A long groan came from you as you leaned your head back. Toto took the opportunity to nibble gently on your pulse point. The rock of your hips back and forth had his pelvis hitting your clit each time, causing a surge of pleasure to shoot through your body.

“More, I need more.” You moaned out.

Toto wrapped his arm around your waist as he flipped you onto your back. The moment your back hit the floor, his pace increased tremendously. The lewd sound of slapping skin filled the area and you were grateful you were out in the middle of nowhere.

“You were fuckin’ made for me weren’t you, Schatzi? Goddamnit, you fit me like a fucking glove.” Toto growled, pushing your leg back even further so he could drill into you at a different angle.

You wrapped your hands around his forearm as he held on to your hip. The drag of his cock against your velvety walls had your eyes rolling into the back of your head once more. The hand that rested on your hip moved to rest on your lower abdomen right above your pelvis as he continued to piston in and out of you.

The movement only made the pressure in your abdomen increase tenfold and you could feel yourself starting to clench around him involuntarily.

“P-please, I-“

“You need to cum, hmm? My pretty girl gonna cum?”

“Please!” You yelled out as he snapped his hips particularly rough into you.

Toto placed both hands on your hips as he lifted you slightly off the ground, pounding into you with all he had. As he did so you reached your hand down your front and rubbed your clit in fast circles.

“Oh fuck, yeah. Rub your clit Liebe. Cmon, cum for me.”

After a few more snaps of his hips you felt yourself tensing up, toes curling as your third orgasm washed over you. This time your legs were shaking visibly and you groaned loudly.

“So fuckin pretty when you cum, Schatzi. Fuck.”

It was obvious that Toto was close. You could feel him twitch inside of you as well as the way his hips were beginning to falter.

“Want you to cum in me, Liebe. Wanna feel you cum in me.” You whimpered up at him.

“Fucking Christ!” Toto fell forward, hands on either side of you as he shoved his hips forward, painting your walls with his spend.

Toto remained leaning over you, pressing his forehead to yours as you moaned in tandem. Breathing in each other’s breath, you reached up and cupped his cheek. Toto wrapped his fingers around your wrist and turned his head to press a kiss to your palm, biting down on the flesh of your hand slightly. You giggled, watching him grin at your noise.

Toto pulled away from you, using the towel you had been sunbathing with to help clean you up. Toto laid down against the deck and you curled up against him, pressing a kiss to his chest as you tangled your leg with his. He stroked your hair with his hand as he pressed a kiss to your crown.

“Yeah,” he started, twirling your hair around his finger, “I’d say you deserve the moon.”

You laughed, hitting his chest for his dumb joke. Toto chuckled, taking your hand in his and lifting it up to his lips for a kiss.

“I love you, Schatzi. And I’m so proud of you.”

You could feel your heart swell at his words. Whenever you were with Toto, all you felt was love.

“I love you too, Toto. Thank you, for everything.”

The two of you remained tangled in one another while you regained your strength. The boat was quiet, the soft crashing of the waves once again soothing your senses as you let your eyes closed.

“So…” Toto’s voice brings you back to reality, “how about a round two?”

[pinchofhoney]

broken promises, part one

part one | part two | part three »

coriolanus snow x fem!reader

word count: 1.8k

warning: none

summary: In Snow's world, only one thing mattered more than his family's reputation—you. But that was before he met Lucy Gray.

a/n: coryo is the type of person i sincerely hate and i'm glad that there are no such arrogant people in my life, who think they are better than others and who in crisis situations only care about themselves and to save their own arse. but at the same time i'm aware that young snow could be someone i'd catch a crush on at school. so why shouldn't i hate him even more?

pages that may interest you: masterlist ♡ taglist ♡ who i write for

taglist: you told me to tag you everywhere, so i'm back to doing it again; @wolfmoonmusic

gif is not mine, credit to the owner

The problem with snow is its tendency to melt, mirroring the way we once thought our feelings would endure forever. Yet, shouldn't emotions, particularly those nestled in our hearts, last longer?

You had known Coriolanus since childhood, and your families had always been close. You had grown up together, surviving the hardships of the war-torn Capitol side by side, and now, in the post-war era, you were still inseparable. There was an unspoken understanding between the two of you going above a simple friendship. Your connection ran deep, like the roots of the oldest trees in the Panem's forests.

Coriolanus was an intriguing character, a puzzle you had been solving together since you were children. He was the embodiment of Capitol charm, with his perfectly tailored suits, polished manners, and charismatic smile that could sway even the most skeptical of Capitol elites. But you knew that beneath that carefully constructed facade was a mind as sharp as a blade and a heart that carried the weight of his family's fallen reputation.

Yet, when he was with you, it was as if a different side of him emerged. The hard lines on his face softened, and his icy demeanor melted away. With you, he could be himself, unburdened by the expectations of Capitol society. It was a rare glimpse into the man behind the mask, and you cherished those moments even more than your favorite jasmine tea and the cat you found shortly after the war had ended.

You couldn't help but admire his intelligence, his quick wit, and his relentless determination to succeed in a world that often seemed stacked against him. His family's name might have been tarnished, but Coriolanus was determined to reclaim their lost glory. He was driven by a burning ambition that flickered like an eternal flame, and you were his unwavering support, the one who fanned that flame to keep it burning bright.

In your eyes, he was more than the sum of his flaws and ambitions. He was the boy you had shared secrets with under moonlit skies, the man who had held you when the world crumbled around you, and the person who knew you better than anyone else. With him, you felt safe, cherished, and loved in a way that no one else could replicate.

Your love for him was boundless, and you were content in the knowledge that you were his confidante, the one person he could be truly vulnerable with. Your relationship with Coriolanus was the envy of many in academy, a seemingly perfect match of two souls intertwined by fate and affection. You were the golden couple, a shining example of love and devotion in a world that often lacked both.

But you wished you had known sooner that it's often the things we love most that destroy us, as Coriolanus Snow's world was about to collide with that of a girl named Lucy Gray and you were not ready for it to happen.

As the day of the tribute's arrival approached, you had been by Coriolanus's side more than ever. The weeks leading up to this moment had been filled with your unwavering support. You had reassured him countless times, sitting together in your cozy bedroom, his head resting gently on your thighs while you combed your fingers through his soft blonde curls. It was a calming gesture, one that had become a comforting routine. You listened to his concerns, his fears, and his ambitions, and you were sure that everything would be fine, that he would be just perfect as a mentor, and that his scholarship and dreams of continuing his studies at the university were within reach.

Your words were like a soothing melody to him, a reminder that he wasn't alone in this daunting new role. He would look into your eyes with his cold ones, filled with gratitude, and you could see the weight lifting from his shoulders, if only temporarily. And in those moments, you felt like his anchor, the one who kept him grounded amid the chaos of his own thoughts.

Now, you both stood at the nearly deserted train station, the oppressive heat of the day hanging heavily in the air. The scorching sun beat down relentlessly, casting shimmering waves of heat across the empty platform. It seemed that most of the Capitol's citizens had chosen to stay indoors, seeking refuge from the sweltering weather.

The only other souls present were a handful of stoic peacekeepers, their pristine white uniforms stark against the dull backdrop of the station. The silence was broken only by the distant hum of the city beyond, a reminder of the bustling Capitol life that lay just outside the station's borders.

Coriolanus tightly held a single white rose plucked from his grandmother's garden, a symbol of his intent to make a lasting impression on his tribute. It was a stark contrast to the vibrant colors of your academy uniforms. The simplicity of the white rose spoke of his sincerity and dedication to this new role as mentor.

With no clear timetable for the tribute train's arrival, the two of you stood patiently, pretending that the day's weather didn't bother you, the weight of uncertainty hanging over you like a heavy cloud. Coriolanus shifted his gaze between the tracks and the single white bloom in his hand.

You observed him closely, and when his gaze finally met yours, you offered a reassuring smile. “Remember, Coryo,” you murmured, “no matter what, you'll be the mentor she needs; your sincerity and kindness will shine through.”

“I hope you're right, Y/N,” he replied softly, his voice filled with a hint of doubt. “I need her to survive on the arena as long as she can,” he added, as if the idea of a group of vulnerable youths engaging in brutal competition in just a few days were the most ordinary occurrence in the world.

But that was precisely what it represented for the Capitol residents – the Hunger Games, an annual spectacle of entertainment.

Time seemed to stretch endlessly under the unrelenting sun, and the station remained eerily devoid of any signs of life. It felt as though hours had passed, but in truth, you couldn't be sure. Beads of perspiration formed on your brows, and you could feel the heat radiating from the platform's surface.

You and Coriolanus were on the verge of giving up and returning to the cool embrace of your penthouses when, at long last, the distant rumble of an oncoming train reached your ears. The sound grew steadily louder, and you looked at each other, exchanging tired glances.

Coriolanus's grip on the white rose tightened as he turned his gaze towards the approaching train. As he rose from the bench where you had sat, his anticipation peaked. You stood beside him, wanting to be his support, but you had no idea that your role was about to change very soon.

The train pulled into the station with a hiss of steam and the screech of brakes, billowing clouds of moisture and smoke into the scorching air. The two of you watched the machine in silent, your heart pounding in your chest. This was the moment when you would come face to face with people from the Districts, individuals whose lives were so far removed from the opulence and extravagance of your own. It was a rare and humbling experience, one that left you with a slight quiver in your step as you clung to Coriolanus, seeking solace in his reassuring presence.

For what felt like an eternity, nothing happened. The train's doors remained sealed shut, as if holding its cargo of tributes in a reluctant embrace. The only thing that reached you was an unpleasant stench wafting from the carriages, a stark reminder of the grim reality that these young souls were about to face.

Finally the impatient peacekeepers took matters into their own hands. They descended upon the train, their authoritative presence enough to scare the tributes out of their temporary sanctuary. One by one, they were herded onto the platform, their expressions ranging from fear to defiance.

And then, your eyes locked onto a figure unlike the others. A girl stood there, her presence a stark contrast to the muted palettes of others tributes. She wore a rainbow-colored dress that shimmered with vibrancy, a flare of color and individuality amidst the sea of old attire. You recognized her immediately from the television screens, a girl whose name had already become a part of your daily life even before this encounter.

Lucy Gray Baird.

The very name whispered in the hushed tones of Capitol citizens as they watched her on the screens, intrigued and fascinated by her enigmatic presence from the Reaping. Her gaze swept across the platform, and for a brief moment, your eyes locked onto each other's.

You couldn't help but break into a warm, welcoming smile. With a cheerful wave of your hand, you signaled to her that both you and Coriolanus were eagerly awaiting her arrival, hoping to ease the initial tension of this life-altering moment.

Lucy Gray's response was a hesitant yet appreciative smile in return. Her steps were slow and cautious as she walked slowly toward you, a palpable sense of curiosity radiated from her, her eyes flitting between the unfamiliar faces that lined the platform.

Your gaze briefly shifted to Coriolanus, a subtle expectation in your heart that his eyes would mirror the warmth you felt. But when you looked at him, you noticed something different. It was as if his eyes were magnetically drawn to Lucy Gray, locked onto her with a nearly unwavering intensity that bordered on fixation. Those eyes, usually so sharp and calculating, now held an expression you had never quite seen before. It was as though he had stumbled upon a priceless museum exhibit, left captivated, awestruck, and undeniably intrigued.

A soft, knowing smile played at the corners of your lips, silently acknowledging his reaction to the girl before you. You gently squeezed his hand, a gesture of affection and solidarity. You understood that this moment bore immense significance for him, that he was on the corner of a journey filled with unforeseen challenges. Lucy Gray was the keynote of this new chapter in his life, and you couldn't help but admire her from a distance, captivated by her unique presence and the aura that surrounded her.

Before you could utter a word, Coriolanus took a determined step forward, his eyes still locked on the girl. He extended his hand, offering her the pristine white rose he had clutched throughout the wait and with a subtle nod, he greeted her in a tone that resonated with formality and welcome.

“Welcome to the Capitol.”

part two »

[ravenromanova]

Punishments

Parings: Wandanat x female avenger

Warnings: SMUT SMUT SMUT!!! DO NOT READ IF YOURE UNDERAGE!!!!!! Mommy kink, Daddy kink, Sub space, Edging, Denial, Bondage, Oral, Fingering, Squirting, Overstimulation. DO NOT READ IF YOURE UNDER 18!!!!!

Masterlist - Send me requests!!!

This fic came from this request! I hope i did it justice :)

~

You tried to stifle your laughter as you ran down the hall to your room. Once you finally reached your room you didn’t even bother locking the door knowing nothing could stop them. The pranks you pulled on your girlfriends may have backfired a little but it was funny as hell.

It started with you hiding Natasha’s widow bites right before a mission, then you and switched the sugar and salt on Wanda the same say. And as the days went on you kept being a menace to your girlfriends. It didn’t bother them at first since the pranks were mainly harmless. That was until today when you decided to prank them by saying you got really hurt during training and made them come home early from their mission. Let’s just say the look they both gave you when they saw you were fine sent fear down your spine.

They told you they were giving you a few minute head start and to run so that’s what you did. You ran to your room even though you knew it wasn’t going to do anything. And in all reality Wanda and Nat had already been on the way home from their mission when they got your text but you didn’t need to know that. For them they wanted to punish you for causing fear to run through their veins and being a brat as of late.

So they let you get a five minute head start before they slowly made their way to your room. And when they got to your room you were already on the bed sitting on your knees with your palms up.

“Looks like someone knows they fucked up” Wanda says laughing a little bit at your attempt to be a good girl.

“Don’t think this one good act will get you out of being punished Detka” Natasha croons as she sits behind you on the bed. Her fingers slowly brush over your shoulder blades and you shiver at her touch.

“You’ve been so bad these last couple of weeks and we’ve let it slide but this..you need to be punished for” She adds giving you a gentle kiss at the base of your neck.

Wanda moves so she’s in front of you and she takes you chin in between her fingers and your eyes meet hers. She gives you a soft kiss that you knew is luring you into a false sense of security.

The two women share a knowing look before Wanda flicks her wrist and your clothes suddenly disappear. You shiver when you feel the cool air hit your skin and you felt your skin become littered with goosebumps. Both of Wanda’s hands find your shoulders and gently pushes you back against the bed as Natasha moves to your side.

“So pretty” Natasha coos running her nimble fingers down your exposed skin. She sits next to you and attaches her lips around your nipple making you gasp in pleasure.

Wanda moves in between your thighs and uses her magic to restrain your hands. You tug on the restraints but the red tendrils of magic squeeze your wrists tighter. Wanda kisses down your stomach and then moves to your thighs before stopping at your core. The sokovian slowly licks your waiting pussy and you moan in pleasure and surprise. Between Natasha sucking and licking your nipples with fever and Wanda kiss your clit you mewl.

What you didnt know was that both women were going to bring you to the brink and then rip it away from you. They were like lions hunting their prey. Wanda started to suck your clit and ate you like a woman starved. You squirmed underneath her and the russian making them smile in unison.

”You’re so pretty bunny” Natasha cooed in your ear kissing below it. You shiver as her cool breath hits your skin.

Wanda was quick to bring your attention back to her and she shoved two fingers into you unexpectedly. Your back arched off the bed as you try to catch your breathe but inevitably fail. She sets a hard and relentless pace hitting your g-spot every time.

“So fucking wet” Her accent slipped out when she spoke making you and Natasha share a look of lust. The two women were so enthralled with you that they almost forgot about your punishment. But unfortunately for you they didn’t and just as you were about to cum Wanda and Natasha ceased their movements.

“W-What?” You whined pouting at the both of them.

“Did you really think we were gonna let you off the look that easily?” Wanda snarked gripping your chin.

“You made us think you were hurt… You scared us” Natasha said and you heard a hint of fear in her voice. “You need to be taught a lesson” She finished speaking and switched places with Wanda.

“I-Im sorry! Mommy please” You beg Wanda as she comes closer to your face. She laughs before she gives you a light slap against your cheek.

“Shut up” She said in her stern tone that she knew made you fall into your sub space. You looked up at her with doe eyes that nearly made her melt. The way you looked at her she knew you were fully submitting to her her and Natasha.

“I-I’m sorry mommy i didn’t mean it” You said trying to free your hands but it was still no use.

“Say you’re sorry to daddy” Wanda pointed towards Natasha who was laying on your thigh with a devilish smirk.

“I’m sorry daddy” You apologized with sincerity to Natasha making her smile.

“It’s okay bunny but you still need to be punished okay?” She ran her hand up your thigh and started to play with your clit.

You gasped in pleasure feeling Natasha’s warm mouth on your clit. She licked you as if she was on a mission and to her she was. That’s when Wanda undid the restraints on your hands and they immediately flew to her hair bringing her into a kiss. Wanda gratefully accepted your kiss and held you close to her as she did. The two of you got lost in the kiss so lost that it wasn’t until Natasha stuck two fingers in you that you broke the kiss.

You looked back at Natasha who had a smirk on her face as she hit your most sensitive spots. Your hands went from Wanda’s hair to the sheets gripping them in pleasure. The band in your stomach was about to break it was so close until.

“Stop” Wanda commanded and Natasha ceased her assault on your pussy.

“Fuck!” You screamed out in agony as your orgasm was ripped away from you again. Wanda smacked your mouth again making you moan out.

“Watch your mouth” She said and you sunk back into the mattress nodding your head mumbling an ‘i’m sorry.’ Wanda then brought you in for a sweet kiss signaling for Natasha to start fucking you again.

Three fingers where then found their way back inside you and you cried out in pleasure. Natasha pumped her fingers in and out slowly at first making sure you felt all of her. You nearly finished when you felt her press up against your g-spot.

“i-Im gonna cum. Please can i cum?” You begged both of them gripping onto Wanda’s shoulders as she kissed your collarbone.

“Cum” Natasha commanded watching the way your pussy sucked in her fingers with delight.

Your back arched off the bed and you came with a guttural moan making the women groan in satisfaction.

Natasha slowly pulled her fingers out of you and licked them with a smile on her face. Her and Wanda shared another look and they both ended up getting the same idea. They switched places again and Wanda ended up between your thighs again then started to play with you again.

“One more bunny” Wanda cooed slowly circling your clit.

“No” You shook your head. “Please mommy i can’t too sensitive” Your words fell on deaf ears and your words cut off by Natasha’s mouth in yours.

You moaned into Natasha’s mouth as you felt Wanda’s lips circle around your clit. She sucked on your clit with intent and slowly added two fingers into you. The coil that had just went away was very quickly building back up once Natasha started playing with your nipples. Her fingers started to tug and pinch your nipples making you mewl in her touch.

Your head was spinning at the pleasure you were feeling. “OH SHIT!” You moaned back arching off the bed as you finished and ended up squirting on Wanda’s face.

“Oh what a good girl” She praised licking up everything that dripped out of you. Natasha quickly got jealous that Wanda was the one to make you squirt and she straddled your waist. She then dipped her head down and licked up what was left of your mess. Her and Wanda shared a heated kiss both moaning when they tasted you on their tongues.

“You taste so good detka” Natasha praised bringing you in for a kiss and Wanda comes back up to your head. You smile at the both of them in a fucked out haze.

“We need to clean you up” Wanda said softly as she tried to bring you back to earth. You opened your eyes and looked at her before shaking your head no.

“Come on babygirl let’s take a bath” Natasha tried to coax you but you just grumbled at her. Both women chuckled at your antics before Wanda used her magic to start running a bath and Natasha swiftly picked you up.

They slowly put you into the warm water and you felt your muscles slowly relax. Both of them cleaned you up being careful not to overstimulate you more. And after the bath was over they got you dressed before the three of you all climbed into bed together.

Soon you fell into a peaceful sleep next to the two women you loved. Who knew that that prank would actually turn out in your favor?

~The end~

[utahimeow]

cw — nsfw content. minors dni. boxer!wriothesley, established relationship, handjob, slight size kink

warm water wraps around you as though a blanket, envelops you as though a coccoon. steam crawls softly into the air, wispy as it winds its way into your lungs and tucks away every last thought in your brain.

the scent of cherry blossom settles into every corner of the bathroom and mingles with the soft vanilla of the candles you lit. tealights glow like little fireflies all around the tub. with your eyes closed, you’re floating along a river in an enchanted forest, until a door clicks and you’re back in your quaint city apartment.

not that that’s a bad thing—after all, the noise signifies the return of your lover.

there’s about a minute of shuffling outside and the heavy thud of his duffle bag hitting the floor. then, the door handle dips slowly and wriothesley slinks into the haven you’ve made of your bathroom.

he crosses the room in one stride, but before you have the chance to open your eyes to examine his face like he knows you will, he cups your entire face in one huge hand and draws you in until his mouth is on yours.

his lips are hot, the bottom one slightly swollen and bumpy in a way that you know in an instant it’s been bruised.

it comes with the job is what he always tells you. you think he’s trying to convince himself more than you. he’s broken your heart a thousand times, coming home with cut cheekbones and blood streaming from his nostrils at least once a week, and still it never gets easier for you to see.

if it were up to you, you would lock him up inside your ribcage and keep him safe, stowed away from the relentless world.

he’s stopped letting you come to his fights. he did a while ago—his version of ‘protecting’ you. he figured it was worth giving up sharing the triumph of his victories with you if it meant you didn’t have to witness the violence he was paid to do, to have done to him. it also meant you were left to stay at home and bask in a pool of your own dread until he came through the front door again.

i fight for you, my dear is what he always tells you. he doesn’t listen when you tell him that you wish he didn’t have to.

wriothesley starts to climb into the spot behind you, but you shake your head no.

“sit in front,��� you say, soft.

wordlessly, he obeys.

you continue, “did you win?”

“‘course i did,” he says, like he’s telling you the weather. “it was a rookie though. almost beat my ass. he could be trouble in a couple years.”

you hum. the water sloshes as he settles in the nook created by your thighs, his broad, hulking back facing you.

wriothesley is a mountain. he stands at six foot five, his muscles hard and thick and honed to perfection. he is the personification of raw power, and yet when your thumbs rub tight circles into his shoulder blades, he melts like wax.

your gentle fingers work away the stubborn knots beneath his skin. his breathing bounces off the bathroom tiles, deep and heavy yet full of relief, as your touch helps him slip further and further from the weapon that he becomes in the ring.

the tips of your fingers trace along his spine, sliding over each vertebra. they ghost over his shoulders, gliding forward until they run along his collarbones.

with your arms hooked around his neck, wriothesley allows you to pull him backwards lightly until his back is flush to your bare front, and you hold him. there is nowhere you want to be more than here, with your flesh moulded with his.

you reach for his wrist, lifting his hand out of the water, rubbing your thumbs over his bruised, bloodied knuckles. after you’ve cleansed them, you bring them to your lips and you kiss them one by one. then you reach for his other hand, wipe away his sins, and forgive them with your lips.

moments like this remind you of what wriothesley was like when you first met him. a stray dog in human form— he cowered from your touch, bared his teeth and growled and snapped at you. he had no trust left in him, therefore all he knew how to do was fight.

like all stray dogs, however, he started to let you in, slowly. he started to come to you. he knew he could come to you. quickly he figured out that your lap was his favourite spot.

now, he lays between your thighs, while your lips press wet kisses at the top of his spine, and along his shoulder blade, and in a trail up his neck. he lets you kiss and suck and bite and devour him all you want, mark him up, make him yours. there is nowhere he wants to be more than here, melting into you.

a deep moan, almost inaudible, rumbles in his chest as he breathes out, a sound that makes you throb between your legs and your lips twist into a grin.

you lean in close to his ear, let your warm breath ghost over the skin of his neck. “can i touch your cock?” you ask in a whisper.

“please,” he grumbles, but it’s far from desperate. wriothesley does not beg—his plea is to encourage you.

one of your hands trails down his rigid body until you find his cock, half-hard at the bottom of a dark trail of hair, and your fingers curl around him, but he’s so thick that your fingertips don’t even touch. you thumb at his slit, drawing small circles around his blushing tip, the way you know makes him utterly weak.

the moment you start to move, gliding your hand slowly up and down his cock, wriothesley’s head falls back against your shoulder, his body slumping as he surrenders himself to your touch. he sighs out, like he’s trying to expel the stress that’s within him, relishing in the way you work him.

biting your lip, you start to pick up your pace, jerking him off with a tad more vigour. you tighten your fist around the head of his cock, feeling the muscles of his back stiffen against your chest as you do.

it’s uncharacteristic how pliant he becomes sometimes, so putty in your hands in a way that makes you wonder if this is the same man who can put his opponents in a coma. he batters and beats them bloody, just to come home and fall apart in your arms.

“am i making you feel good?” you murmur into his skin, tugging at his cock steadily.

“fuck yes,” he replies, a low growl. “always do, baby.”

wriothesley’s gravelly voice travels straight to your core, spurring you on, so you flick your wrist just a little faster, again. you squeeze him a little tighter before loosening your grip, going back and forth in a way that makes the man’s head spin.

you’re peppering his neck and shoulder with kisses, lips fluttering over his skin tenderly in hopes of drawing him nearer to his edge. blood rushes to his face, his cheeks and nose burning hot pink, his lips parting slightly as he pants. the one downside to having him like this—you can’t see his pretty face.

he can’t help how his hips buck slightly up into your hand, following the swift strokes of your wrist. you go faster, filled with the urge to help him finish, determined to help him find euphoria.

he’s achingly hard in your hand now, throbbing against your fingertips.

“‘m fuckin’ close,” he mumbles, breathy and low, lifting his head off your shoulder to watch the way your hand drags up and down his cock.

and the sight alone is enough to make him cum—he groans, roaring loud, throwing his head back onto your shoulder, the ridges of his abdomen clenching as his cock twitches and his release dribbles from his tip, warm and thick as it covers your hand.

his body shakes against yours. you’re pressing your lips to his hot skin again while he comes back down from his climax, breathing hard, sinking further into your body now that you’ve loosened him up even more.

“fuck. need a nap now,” wriothesley rasps.

you giggle, full of affection for him. “then do it. promise i won’t drown you.”

“i would, but baby, this bath is not made for people who are six-foot-five. my back’s starting to hurt,” he says, rising out of the water and stepping out of the bath. fully bare, he looks like a greek god. when he turns back around, you’re pouting.

“maybe you’re getting old,” you quip. the way you stare at him reminds him of a cat.

he quirks an eyebrow. you don’t see it coming when he lunges forward and scoops you up out of the bath, and you’re squealing.

“good, so i’ll be dead soon. won’t have to put up with you any longer,” he says, but he’s wrapping a towel around you and patting you dry, and his icy blue eyes are brimming with a fondness reserved for nobody else but you.

[the-midnight-blooms]

ᴍᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴍʏ ʜᴜꜱʙᴀɴᴅ

pairing: CEO!park seonghwa x scientistwife!reader

AU: modern au

word count: 6.3k

masterlist

In the midst of a fragile soul dwindling under the aches of animosity, the married couple laid in bed with their backs facing each other. The husband, Park Seonghwa, an esteemed CEO of a pharmaceutical company ‘Park Pharmaceuticals.’ had the front board of the book lodged into the silk casing of his pillow with his other hand steadying it so he could still, quite painfully, scan his eyes over the text. Agitated, he got up with a grunt before sitting up to finish the chapter of his book. With his scientists publishing reports on the latest medicine they were developing, he immediately rushed back to his university textbooks to affirm he was still equipped with the necessary knowledge to understand the science. Meanwhile, Mrs Park- a research scientist at Park Pharmaceuticals' rival company, ‘Kim Pharma.’ was battling against her insomnia despite motherhood knocking her straight off her feet. Their daughter, Park Dami, was fast asleep in the room next door to Seonghwa’s study cuddling the little Toothless toy he had gifted her when she was still a cherub. It had seemed that Mrs Park was prone to falling asleep at the most odd times of day, whether it be during dinner or cleaning the home.

Perhaps it was the heartache she was suffering from. The love that she had held for her husband was a permanent fixture, a vow that she had promised not to break, and one she had not and never would for as long as she lived. However, the increasingly distant behaviour from her husband in light of his burgeoning role as CEO had her heart yearning for him. Being a mother was difficult and of course, so was Seonghwa’s job. Yet, he also had duties as husband and a father, which he seemed eager to abandon altogether.

“Why can’t you try to understand how difficult it is for me to do all of this? So much pressure at work, then I come to you going on about some stupid dinner with your parents!” He shouted, she flinched at the dissonance of his noxious tone reverberating off the walls of the small study- biting down at her lip.

“I’m sorry, I’ll leave.”

“Sorry, my arse. If you were sorry, you wouldn’t be fucking nagging in my ear all the time, would you?” He barked, as she sped out of the room. It had been three weeks since she had, politely and quietly, asked her husband if he was free to attend her mother’s dinner party. He refused, erratically, and despite having apologised with saccharine kisses and diligent promises, he didn’t turn up to dinner in the end.

“Oh he’s busy Mum. He’s seeing to some of the lab work, you know how stressful it was for me.” Her father complained light-heartedly, raising how unfair it was of him to neglect his family.

“Do you want to me have a chat with him? I can give him a good word.” Hastily, she steered her father away from that direction. The last thing she needed was Seonghwa to turn around and blame her for the earache her father would give.

With a relentless sigh, she sat up reaching for the bottle of water on the nightstand. His eyes flickered at her movements, lips moving up and down to form the shape of the words as he silently committed them to memory, forming judicious links between the knowledge and application.

“Seonghwa.” She called out for him, he hummed in return, barely reeling his eyes off the page. Please look at me. “I was thinking about going back to work again. I contacted my manager about restarting and at the moment I would only need to go in for about two days or so.” Shutting his book close, he finally met her stare, deep in contemplative thought.

“Do you think you can work and take care of Dami at the same time?” He questioned. She had thought about this several times before she dialled in her manager’s number. As much as she had inherited her father's kind-hearted nature, stunning beauty, and soft-spoken voice in the end it was the passivity she had drawn from her mother naturally rendering herself subservient to prioritise ones needs over her own. Essentially, if she had told Dami to keep her lips on a tight seal and remain of the sofa the whole day: she would.

“I’m sure I can as long as she's in sight. She'll be in nursery from September, so I'll be able to start work.” He fell a little quiet, turning to drop his book onto the night stand.

“Ok, if that’s what you want. If you need me to come home earlier, I mean I can’t at the moment, but in a few weeks time if you need me to-then I will.” Nodding, she sent him a grateful smile before sliding back under the covers to turn her night light off.

Her heels clicked, exasperatedly, on the porcelain white floor dashing straight through the double doors; her heart pounded furiously against her chest, a violent ache gnawing at her arteries. With her body almost barging into a number of figures, her anxious apologies echoed into the swamped corridors, in which her colleagues shook their tired heads in annoyance. Finally, reaching the top floor she scuttled out of the elevator catching the eyes of Mrs Lee.

"Lab coat, darling, lab coat." Squealing, she unbuttoned the off-white coat, scowling at the permanent pen marks and splashes of iodine before handing it to Mr Kim's assistant. Mrs Lee, threw the coat onto her seat, gesticulating for the young scientist to follow her. After a short knock, the heavy glass door was pushed open; several pairs of eyes darting their way.

"Ah, Miss Cheong! How nice of you to join us!" Hongjoong exclaimed, a teasing glint in his eyes that wanted to make her wipe the smirk of his lips.

"My apologies, Mr Kim, we ran into a problem down at the lab." She explained, a blush forging on her cheeks as a grave set of eyes burned into her skin.

"No worries. This is Miss Cheong, she will be our project lead on the next Kim-Park program." The Kim-Park program was founded by Kim Hongjoong of Kim Pharma and Park Seonghwa of Park Pharmaceuticals. With both companies leading the pharmaceutical industry, both founders decided in order to produce a greater economic boom, and serve an excellent supply chain of mandatory medicine; both of their greatest minds could work together to create poignant breakthroughs in the scientific sector. After all, the two companies had the countries top scientists working for them but together they could very well improve the nature of modern medicine. Hence, today both CEO’s came together for a kick off meeting establishing the blueprint for their next, biggest projects.

"'No worries?'" A derisive voice arose from across the room, where she snapped her head to find a man with wide eyes and thin-rimmed square glasses that sat at the bridge of his long nose, staring back at her. His long, slicked back hair that fell past his ears as he, mockingly, cocked his head to the side in amusement. "I didn't know Kim Pharma tolerated tardiness, Mr Kim." Returning his stare back to Hongjoong, he raised an eyebrow anticipating his answer.

“What was the problem down at the lab?”

“House fire." She retorted, "And I had to assign interns some lab work. Kim Pharma doesn't tolerate tardiness Mr Park but your project manager doesn't seem to be here? We'd have valued him being present at the kick off meeting." His face heated red in embarrassment as he gritted his teeth.

Park Seonghwa was insufferable.

The worst thing about him wasn't even that he was pedantic and scrutinised her work with a keen eye, or that his sharp attention-to-detail left her wanting to force him to chug a beaker of concentrated hydrochloric acid. It was that under his strictly co-ordinated demeanour, he was a beautiful man blessed with an angel's aura. It was that he was tall and that his voice could hypnotise her; send her lunging over a precipice into the expanse of uncharted oceans. At times his allure had her wanting to excuse her pathetic hatred. They bickered at every meeting, every email was sent with 'Regards' rather than 'Kind Regards'. It wasn't long before the bickering had transgressed to shouting in the boardroom as he began to question her teachings, snickering at every intellectual point she made as if she had not graduated from university with the same degree as himself.

"You forgot to add that cisplatin is a cis isomer." He stated, as she sat across from her in his office. This time, she didn't bother to retain herself from rolling her eyes. "A problem, Miss Cheong?"

"Who's reading this report, Mr Park? A high school student or the manufacturer? Any man with common sense and college level chemistry knows that cisplatin is a cis isomer. Do you want me to also write down that it has a square planar shape with a bond angle of 90 degrees?" She snapped, leaning back in her chair with a disgusted look. He smirked taking off his glasses, cleaning the lens with the hem of his blazer sleeve. Dear god. Sedate me.

"No, but you do need to explain how cisplatin works in detail. It only works as cis isomer, not trans. You didn't specify that."

"You're incredibly pedantic." Pushing his glasses up the bridge of his perfectly defined nose, the smirk remained fixed on his lips. "I'm not surprised people are handing in resignations, at your company, every week."

"They can leave if they wish, lazy people don't contribute to Park Pharmaceuticals' success." Oh and he was cocky too. As well as being a pretty face full of wits, Park Seonghwa was also wrought with egotism that made her want to wrangle his gorgeous, slender neck. "Have you ever considered joining our company?" A snicker escaped from her lips which eventually transcended into a laughter that wholly baffled him.

"I'm afraid I'd be a part of that sorry statist-,"

"I'm sorry for being an arsehole, Miss Cheong. Can I make it up to you?" And when she questioned him how he would make it up to her, he proposed the idea of a date. All he wanted was her, regardless of her much she was everything he was not. “Go on a date with me, please.” He blurted, with her feet rooted to the ground and lips falling into a thin line his heart palpitated within his chest. He sought the way her hair fell over her shoulders in light waves having ripped it from its knot after she walked out of the lab. Her pink lips were practically begging to be touched by his, he wanted to soothe the symphony of weary sighs that dispersed from her, and the headache that wracked her brain from his abstruse behaviour. Above all, he was falling in love with Miss Cheong because he despised her in such a paradoxical way. He hated the way she was smarter than him and beautiful in the way that she must have been carved from the clouds of heaven.

It often made her giggle at Hongjoong's astonishment when she handed him the wedding invitation. His excitement when he ripped open the seal to read Seonghwa's name as the groom, dropped the smile from his face as he looked at his college friend.

"You're marrying the enemy?" She shook her head at him, almost scolding him for deeming Seonghwa the 'enemy'. "This isn't what I meant when I said 'Fuck Park Seonghwa." Lobbing the pillow at his head, he dramatically sunk into his sofa as their childlike laughter eructed into the blithe atmosphere.

It had felt like a distant dream now, to be loved and adored in the ways that he once did. To be held as if every touch was their last, to be kissed as if their lips would never meet again and they were lovers in the midst of an age-old war that would tear their nimble hearts apart. To have her husband again and not a dispassionate demon who tore past the gates of hell and inflict all the condemned’s curses on her.

Giving you my all, giving you my everything. Laying my life down at your feet, stripping myself of my own honour just to feel something by you. A glance, a breath, a sigh. You tell me to leave- I don’t mean anything to you anymore.

"Hwa, you could have at least told me you weren't going to go in the first place. Then I wouldn't have gone to the company party." Sat at the foot of the bed, he pulled the jumper over his torso, pulling his trapped hair out from the neck hole. He bit his tongue as his wife rebuked him for his absence, once again. "Do you know how humiliating it was for me to be the only one sat without her husband there?"

"I told you I was going to run late."

"You were four hours late, and you're a half an hour drive to the office! Why didn't you say no, in the first place?" Tearing the earring out from her lobe, she sunk into the chair trying her hardest to not slip into tears; the sympathetic stares of hundreds etched into her memory. How stupid did she look for being dressed so ostentatiously, when the real jewel was not even in her possession? The clatter of pearls emptied into the drawers, hands buried into palm of her hands closing her eyes to relive the myriad of dejection. They never said marriage was this painful. Hard, yes. But not painful. "Hwa, do you love me?" She inquired, turning around in her seat.

"What?"

"It's as simple as you think. Do. You. Love. Me?" Her voice wavered as she asked him, the distant stare in his eyes revealed answers to the questions that she did not want answered.

“If I didn’t love you, I wouldn’t have married you. Or given you a beautiful daughter. I miss one, silly, company event and you start throwing a tantrum.”

“This isn’t the first time you’ve completely abandoned me!” Her shout restituted off the thin light blue walls, jumping from her seat at his petty arguments. “You are such a terrible husband and you make me feel trapped in this marriage!”

“And you fucking suffocate me! You suffocate me!” He roared across the room, his strident tone penetrating through her, grazing down the surface of her heart. Rupturing the weak seams that held it together. Stumbling backwards, her palms gripped onto the mahogany table; shaking, biting down her lip to prevent a sob from escaping. "The only time I felt like I could ever breathe, in this marriage, was when I was not with you. When I was at work, or with the others, or just anywhere else. But never with you." Dipping her head, away from him, she shut her eyes as tight as she could.

"Please stop." she whispered, a plead so quiet it almost went unspoken. Yet Seonghwa heard it anyway because no matter how angry he was, their souls were still intertwined. Their hearts beat as one, they were uniform, one whole being. Slowly, he treaded towards her, mimicking the dip of head.

"Why? Can't you take the truth?" he mocked. Full tears pooled in her eyes, her chest burning from holding in her breath. "I should divorce you." He proclaimed, without a stutter. That was enough to break her. An obnoxious wail infiltrated into the void of the room. Was that what he wanted? To provoke some sort of emotion from her to satisfy his ego? He scoffed, before darting from the room-slamming the door shut behind him. Wrought with tears she trudged to her bed, slipping under the covers; sobbing herself unconscious.

"Mummm. Ammiii. Ammaaa." A small voice whispered, the softness soothing the persisting ache in her chest. Holding back the smile ready to break through, she fixed her eyes shut waiting to see what her daughter would do next.

"Dami, let your mother sleep. Come on." The urge to smile had dropped instantaneously, the familiar sense of forlorn gushing into her again; his sweet, addictive voice puncturing holes into her heart.

"I'm hungry." She could hear the pout on her daughter's lips. Huffing, she groaned loudly snapping at her daughters attention, who jumped up and down in excitement of her mother awaking. Reaching out for her child, she picked her up settling her down on her laps. "Mama, I'm hungry." She squeaked.

"Have you washed up yet?" She shook her head. "Ok, let me go to the bathroom first. Then I'll help you."

"I'll help her wash up." Seonghwa offered. Refusing to look at him, she simply gave him a curt nod, the sight of his face wanting to make her erupt into a fit of sobs.

"I promise I'll never make you cry." He had promised, before their marriage. They sat under the stars, the cool wind brushing at their cheeks. Astronomy books sat scattered around her as she attempted to map out constellations in the beaming night.

"And if you do?" She challenged, playfully smirking. With a cute frown he gave her a nudge.

"I promise I won't but in the 0.00001 percent chance that I do, then you should leave me. You’re worth more than the moon to me, and to hurt you is the deadliest sin I can commit." He immediately leaned forward to swoop her into a deep kiss- both of them smiling as they did. The memory of his now-broken promise brought tears to her eyes again. Tightly pressing her palm to her mouth, to hold back her cries, she sucked in yet another breath. I can do this. I can do this. I can do this.

Gripping onto the bathroom sink until her knuckles bled white, her knees hit the floor. Nicking the handle of the tap- tears freely flowed down her cheeks as the water rushed through the basin at rapid speed. I want my baby back.

Feeling the heavy burden of a collapsing marriage, her shoulders sunk as she chopped at the onions, preparing their dinner. Dami sat on the stool by the kitchen island, with her mini crayons scribbling over the pictures in the colouring book.

“Mama, why did Appa sleep in my room yesterday?” Scraping the onions into the pan, she grabbed the wooden spoon to stir it.

“He was missing his little princess. He wasn’t causing you trouble, was he?” She teased, sending her a forced smile. God, it was becoming increasingly difficult to stay happy. To smile was to pain her cheeks, they felt more contented relaxed than to uplift and radiate an aura of joy that didn’t seem to exist within her anymore.

“He’s so big, I fell off bed.” She snorted, laughing at her child’s proclamation. It was not long before a thought occurred to her that whenever they slept in the same bed- it was always her that took up the most room-rather than him. A fond memory occurred to her, specifically a night where her body was plastered to his.

“Ah, jagi, can you move a little? I’m up against the window?” Her body shuffled slightly to the left, giving him room to breathe a little bit more. “Thank god.” He huffed out a sigh of relief, her lips fell into a pout- as she rolled further away from him towards the edge of the bed. If space was what he wanted, then she was going to give it to him. Seonghwa’s arm outstretched for her, the cold air battering his skin was no comfort, he wanted her again. A tantalising laugher infiltrated the air, he shuffled closer to her pressing his lips to the top of her head.

“Never mind I need my cuddly bunny.” He sang, nestling his face into the crook of her neck. Now, she couldn’t remember the last time he had held her so close to himself. If anything, he needed the space now and rested just less than a metre apart from her each night.

“It was nice! Appa is a teddy bear.”

“Am I, my princess?” Turning away from the doorway, she opened the cupboard to reach for the spices, shielding her melancholic face away from him. The sweet dissonance of giggling entered her ears, if he had no love to spare for her at least he had enough to spare for his daughter. “Ahem, I’m going on a business dinner tonight.”

“Ok.” Seonghwa watched her, resting his hand on the top of his daughter’s head who went straight back to colouring in the flowers in her book-switching to a pink crayon at that. “What time will you be home?” He shrugged, then quickly noticed that with her back to him she wouldn’t see.

“I don’t know. Don’t wait up.” How could he say that knowing that there wasn’t a night in their marriage where she didn’t sit patiently on the sofa, waiting for him to come back home. Even on the days where he warned her he’d be back a lot later than usual. Regardless, she’d stay plastered to the sofa switching from the tv, to her phone, to a random book-eyes continuously flickering to clock- skipping to the kitchen to shove snacks into her mouth, as she’d never eat without him.

The urge to erupt into a fit of sobs inclined, chewing on her lip violently provided her with enough solace to finish making dinner, feed her daughter and put her to bed. Then at last, when she closed the curtains to her bedroom, a hushed cry escaped her; spending the rest of her night as she did prior, wailing and wailing until fatigue had lulled her weary heart to sleep. The creak of the door went unnoticed to her, Seonghwa crept in; her sleeping figure rested in the bed, the comforter dragged over her head. He sighed, contemplating whether to slip beside her or retreat back to Dami’s room for the night.

This sequence continued for the next few weeks, every night she would cry herself to sleep and Seonghwa would sleep in Dami’s bed. It wasn’t even their room at this point, it was hers with Seonghwa’s things in it-just like her flat pre-marriage. Her room with Seonghwa’s books, few pieces of clothes and odd bits of trinkets. One morning she woke up to find a stack of papers on her nightstand. Fear coursed through her blood, were these the divorce papers that he had suggested to her? Rifling through the papers, her heart soothed as soon as she realised they were just Dami’s crayon drawings. Stick figures of Appa, Amma, and little Dami in the middle. Drawings of flowers, then one just of Amma and Appa, a big heart between them. If only that were true. If only his heart still beat for her the same way hers beat for him.

She heard his voice trail out of the study, as she almost raised her hands to knock and summon him downstairs for lunch. The rapid muttering halted her movements, instead she tentatively pressed her ears against the door to assess the situation.

“Yes, honey, I’ll be there soon…She’s pissing me off right now. I’m trying to get the papers set at the moment…I don’t know about a few more weeks?” Slapping her hand to her mouth, she squeezed her lips shut to prevent any pained sounds from releasing. Honey? There was another woman? And the papers? Was he really, truly, trying to divorce her? Rushing to the bathroom, she slammed the door shut, flipping the tap back open to relive the same endless cycle.

“I’m going on a work trip to Japan, for a week. We have an important business meeting. I might need you take care of Dami by yourself.” His head snapped from up Dami’s unfinished Lego project. She’d fallen asleep when playing, so her father took it upon herself to finish building the set.

“You should have asked me beforehand. You can’t just accept to go offshore, and then give me a week’s notice.” He scolded, playing with the pink block between his fingers.

“I only got told today. I tried to call you whilst I was still in office, but I couldn’t get through to you.” Sighing, his shoulders slumped as he shook his head in disappointment. It appeared that Mrs Park was also refraining important matters from her husband; making decisions of her own that they promised they’d always make together. An uncomfortable silence remained suspended in the tense air, shifting uncomfortably in her spot as she awaited for him to say something else. Even if it was to belittle her, she urged to hear the sound of his voice.

“If you cared enough about me, you’d know I’m busy too.” Chewing down on her lip, she held back a painful sigh. There it is. “We’ll be with my parents for a week while you’re gone. When’s your flight?”

“Sunday night.” Nodding, he scooped up the remaining pieces on the floor pouring them back into the packet before getting up himself. “I’ll pick you up from the airport.”

The work trip to Japan was just as tranquil as she anticipated, the host company was as hospitable as they could be. The days were cut short, the air silent subsiding one into deep thought, even if they denied themselves the pleasures of having to think. With her knees tucked up to her chest, she stared out onto the vast market of skyscrapers, the teeming arena beneath contributing the noises that fell deaf at her ears. She needed to leave the home, its confining airs strangling the lumen of her windpipe. She didn't exactly know what to do now that it was confirmed: Seonghwa did not love her. The declaration was enough to send her into delirium, enough to have her jolting up at night; drowning in cold sweats, preaching his name like a mantra. The flight home did not come soon enough, she boarded the plane with such eagerness and drenched even further in pain when she was assigned the seat next to her colleague and her husband.

Nervously, she dialled in his number once more hurriedly, tapping her feet against the cobbled footpath; her free hand latched onto the sweaty handle of the suitcase. Pick up, pick up, pick up. Being met by the voicemail service was disheartening, wrapping her arms around herself as the wind blew harsh against her skin sending a ripple of goosebumps over her.

"Mrs Park, is your taxi late?" Whipping her head around to find her colleague, she shook her head in dismay. "Do you need a lift? We don't live too far from each other."

Pushing through the large wooden gates of his childhood home, she adjusted the straps of her back pack lifting her head to find the blaring of orange lights through the slits between the window blinds. A small bustle of activity could be heard from the other end, tentatively, her fingers rose to provoke the silver door knocker.

"I'll get the door!" His voice floated through the surface, reaching out to caress the aches on her skin bruised wholly by him. As soon as their eyes met across the doorway, the smile was wiped clean from his lips. “Oh god, I’m sorry, it had completely slipped my mind-,”

“You don’t forget things, Hwa. The truth is: it didn’t slip from your mind, you just didn’t care.” You haven’t cared about me for a very long time. You haven’t loved me in a long time. I am no longer your wife but just Dami’s mother, to you. Though some sort of vile emotion named fear had prevented her from saying those words, becoming lodged at the crux of her throat, floating on the tip of her tongue.

The worst thing was, he didn’t say anything. He was silent, unwilling to reckon against her and fight for their marriage again. When did he become so passive? Up until now, when was there a day in their relationship when he didn’t fight to keep her at his side? Trudging into the household, the warmth lacerated her skin, taking off her shoes as the pattering of small feet came her way. A small body engulfed her larger frame, the delightful giggles of her daughter infiltrated her ears as her mother finally came home to her.

"We ate sooo much food. We had tteokbokki, dakgalbi, ramen. Halmeoni tried to make me eat yaksik but it was nasty." Letting out a tired moan she fell onto the floorboard, Dami crawling on top of her, as her mother-in-law stuffed her with enough food to last her a century.

"Ugh, Dami. Please get off Amma, my tummy is going to explode."

"Halmeoni! Amma ate too much!"

"Your Amma didn't eat enough!" Eomeonim shouted back from the kitchen. Seonghwa ambled into the room settling a cup of green tea in front of her, whilst simultaneously lifting Dami from her stomach. There was an uncomfortable silence amongst them as their daughter, oblivious to the obvious tension between her parents, entertained them nevertheless by dancing around the room and singing. He left the room in between to see to his mother in the kitchen. Feeling terrible for leaving her to tend to the mound of dishes, she carried behind walking straight into the enemy's territory.

“Are you stupid, boy? How could you even suggest a divorce?” She hissed. “It was only yesterday when you came running to me, with your eyes so full of love. Where is that love now?”

“People change.” He deadpanned, hot tears fulfilled her eyes, blurring her vision as she rushed back to the front room.

“We’re going, now!” She ordered, a pout on her daughter’s face grazed the surface of her heart. She couldn’t stand here, and hear her husband declare that he didn’t love her anymore. She couldn’t watch the love of her life slip from the tips of her fingers, whilst she sunk beneath the earth under her feet. She grabbed his car keys, from his jacket. “We’re going home, eomeonim. I need to go into the office, tomorrow. Thank you so much for taking care of Dami.” Kissing the top of her mother’s head, she slipped on her shoes before carrying Dami out of the home. Seonghwa followed hot on her heels.

“Where do you think you’re going at this time of night?”

“Home, Hwa.” The lock clicked out of the place, she jerked open the car door to fasten her daughter into the seat ignoring her cries and pleads to stay at her grandmother’s. “Dami! Quiet!” She roared, the same way Seonghwa would shout at her for nights on end for doing nothing other than being his wife.

“Stop acting like a child and come back inside right now!” He commanded.

“I won’t, Hwa. Because the next time I go back in and let myself be hurt by you, I’ll have no one to blame but me.” He fell quiet, swallowing the heavy lump in his throat. “I am the still the girl who would wait nights for her husband to come home to her. But you are no longer the boy that would walk straight into her arms.” Choking on her sobs, she jerked open the car door to slip inside, her daughter calling out for her father. After all, they were the same woman. Both so utterly in love with the same man that could not love them both in the ways one could dream of being in love. For being in love with him was asking for annihilation, his devotion unreachable like the stars studded in the midnight sky. Was he not made from the stars? An angel borne from light, whose banner was a celestial plane that would diminish the human essence in a heartbeat? Steering the car out of his driveway, Seonghwa stood plastered to the floor a single tear dropping from his eye as he felt his soul meander away from him.

That night, when they reached home, Dami was tight in her arms after having cried the whole journey home from missing her father. Eventually, exhaustion overpowered her and she reluctantly slept in her mother’s arms. She was so sure now that her daughter thought she was the villain for ripping her away from her father. Nuzzling her small face deeper into her mother’s neck, she felt her bottom lip tremble as she called out for her father.

There was no need to frantically run to the post box every time a letter slipped through, meeting the ground with a loud thud. Though, she did it anyway, with little Dami scuttling behind her as if she was expecting a letter herself though deep down Mrs Park knew that she wanted her Appa to come home. It had been a month having not heard back from him. No messages or calls. After work, she ventured over to his office only to be turned away by his assistant; catching a quick glance at his shadow through his window.

“I have to make an appointment to see my own husband?” She uttered through gritted teeth, though the woman in front merely nodded, disinterestedly. “When is Mr Park next available?” The jarring clatter against the keyboard gnawed at her ear drums, annoyance fulfilling her.

Fuck this. Rushing to the handle of his door, she keeled it open storming inside-the loud slam of the door jumping him up from where he sat in his seat. The assistant rushed behind, squawking about how she had to leave.

“Cilla, it’s ok. Go do your job.” He ordered, softly with his eyes fixated on his wife. She didn’t expect him to look this way, the clean, composed Seonghwa now with tousled hair and small dark circles under his eyes. Eyes bloodshot red as if he had been crying for weeks on end, exhaustion piling in them. His sunken face as if he had not eaten for weeks-Seonghwa, not eating? The same man who used to kiss her hands and go for seconds, claiming there must have been some magic in them for she made such delicious food?

“Dami is getting upset. She misses her Dad. The least you could is come home and see her, so she doesn’t think that her father abandoned her too.”

“I’ve been busy-,”

“You’ll always be busy, Hw-Seonghwa. But not busy enough that you can’t spare an hour or two to see your daughter.” She spat, storming straight out of his office, sending the assistant a dirty look on her way to the elevator.

“Appa!” Dami’s animated tone weighed down her father’s heart, his arms wide open as she jumped into them. Fixing her spot by the kitchen doorway she watched as her husband played with her daughter. After a few hours, when they had put Dami to sleep, they sat with each other in the front room Seonghwa pulling out an envelope from his work satchel.

“The-uh- papers. Divorce papers.” A pang struck through her, hands shaking as she reached out for them.

“As her mother, I’ll have custody over her. You should be allowed to see her every week, so maybe the weekend?” Her voice quivered, slightly as she opened up the seal of the envelope, its woody scent wafting up her nose. With little energy, to pull out the form- she settled it onto the coffee table. “We’ll move to my mother’s house…” She trailed off biting down on her lip as Seonghwa closed his eyes shut.

“That’s fine. You can just post it to the lawyer. I’d like to see Dami at my office next week, could you do that?” Nodding diligently, she owed him that much. He’d be counting down the days soon until he’d rarely see his daughter. How would they tell her Amma and Appa weren’t as happy as they were in the drawings?

Her eyes scoured over the woman sat in front of him, as she opened the door to his office. God, she was beautiful with her long, black, silky hair, siren eyes, her chic office look. Everything she was not, though she had managed to pick herself up and put a lot more effort than she usually did with her fitted suit, hair tied back into a sleek bun-held up by the closest pen she could find on her dressing table since her silver claw clip was nowhere in sight. Was she the woman he was going to leave her for? She couldn’t even blame him at this point, why keep something expired when you could throw it away and have something new? Gripping onto the straps of her handbag, she slowly let go of her daughter’s hand who ran to her father’s side.

“Gaeun, this is my wife Mrs Park.” Timidly, she shook her hand. Gaeun saw Mrs Park as an intimidating woman, with her silent face as she ambled into the room with her daughter, her neat hair, pointed heels and tailored skirt that accentuated her curves. She matched Mr Park’s daunting presence perfectly, and of course her intelligence was known to all as well as her insistence to remain at his rivals’ company. “Dear, this is Gaeun- she’s one of the project leads on the next Kim-Park collaboration.”

“I see.” Her head picked up, giving both parties a short nod before leaving the office. She reckoned there was enough to time to make it to her own company and break down in the toilets before beginning the work day.

The rain thundered down from the sky on a solemn afternoon, the clatter of dishes being returned to the cupboards entailing the home; followed the thundering knock at the door. Peeking into the peep hole, she swung the door open, she pulled her husband in immediately rushing around him as he jerked off his shoes.

“Into the shower now.” Without hesitation, he grabbed his clothes from her bedroom before soundlessly making his way into the shower. She only assumed he had come to their home for the signed papers, it had been a while since he’d given them to her; though all she could think about was the way her pen could not even touch the sheet. The door to the study creaked open, as she bit her lip with the unsigned line glaring back at her.

“I haven’t- I haven’t signed the paper, yet.” His breath hitched in his throat, inching closer and closer to her. With the tickle in her throat pervasive, the pen neared the line her heart shattering with every second that her hands rebuked the damned sheet in front. How did she even do her signature?

“I’m sorry that you fell in love with me. I’m sorry that you married me. I’m sorry that I’m not enough. I’m sorry that I couldn’t be the perfect wife for you.” She blurted, the pen falling from her fingers onto the table. He called out her name, drawing forward arms outstretched to encircle her into him. To hold her as tight and as true as she deserved. To fulfil her of kisses that he had deprived her of, to ease her of her pain. Though she stopped him in his tracks, with a palm to censor his movements. “No, Hwa. I haven’t been enough for you for a very long time. I must have done something wrong for you to hurt me like this. I must have done something much worse than what you’ve done to me. I just wished you spoke to me than gave me this stupid sheet and trying to end us in a single heartbeat.” An agonising wail left her lips, as she dropped to the floor tucking up her knees to her chest. Her lungs burned, desperate for air running her fingers through her hair as she slowly breathed out to ease the throbbing sensation loitering at her temples. He sunk to the floor with her, engulfing her frame within his. His jumper so soft, drenched in the scent that she adored. The same scent that he wore when they first met. Her bottom lip quivered again.

“You did nothing, it was all me. I forgot who I was, I forgot it was you who gave me life.” Her tears stained his shirt, he held her closer to his body. “I came to here to change your mind. I didn’t want you to sign those papers. I was so scared you had.” Their bodies rocked back and forth as the painful sound of her sobbing gradually declined.

“I couldn’t do it.” She whispered, her throat sore from this prolonging nightmare. Kissing away her tears, his fingers gently tilted up her head so he could bore his eyes in her beautiful ones. “I just need to know if there’s another woman. If there is, and you love her the same way you loved me, you can have her.”

“There was never another woman. It was always you I swear.” He pledged, as his own tears rushed down his face tickling his jawline before pattering carefully on his sweater. “I was just a poor excuse of a man, a poor excuse of a husband. I admit that I felt like you’d never leave me, but when I realised you really could it hurt me so much.” Drawing lines over his sweatshirt she listened to the sweet sound of his voice whisper into her ears.

“I’ll be a better man. I’ll work on me, and you can just keep on being a great wife and mother.” Their lips met in a frenzy of emotions, their palpitating hearts enamouring their befallen entities as passionate kisses filled the wounds that penetrated through them. His hands snaked around her waist, as hers ran through his long hair emitting a husky groan out of him. “Do you think Dami would like a sibling?” He joked, before being met by whack to the back of his head, they deepened the kiss before she happily rested her head against his chest.

“Maybe, but not now. Right now, you need to come home to us.”

“It’s just you and me now. Nothing’s going to hurt you baby.”

•••

All Right Reserved © the-midnight-blooms

DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, REPURPOSE, OR PLAGISRISE ANY OF THE WORK HERE

cheong meaning 'quiet' 'eomeonim' means mother-in-law (husband's side) 'halmeoni' means grandma

A/N: i'm sorry if the ending seems a bit rushed, i'm going on some meds soon and i have no idea how shit i'm gonna feel while on them. wanted to update in case i have no energy to release something else for a while😖 Hope you guys liked this one! ✨✨

let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list for any future fics I post!

tags: @n0v4t33z @potatos-on-clouds @jjongwho

[kookslastbutton]

take care of you ༓ myg (m)

✑ Summary: To keep your fiance from burning out you suggest a weekend getaway to Gapyeong, a charming town about an hour outside Seoul. You've specifically asked him to leave his work equipment at home but like a deep rooted habit, he still brings it with him. You're left with no choice but to find a way to get his attention back.

pairing: workaholic!yoongi x reader

genre/AU: fluff, tiny angst, smut, established relationship, vacation au, engaged couple

word count: 7,581

warnings: yoongi has a hard time relaxing so oc gets a little frustrated with him, oc and yoongi riding in a hot air balloon, yoongi gets a little shy with pictures, oc gets a tiny bit insecure, both very in love with each other, yoongi keeps calling oc Mrs even though they have not tied the knot yet, swearing, tiny misunderstanding (ik misunderstanding 😒 but its cute i swear!), sexual content

sexual warnings: switch!yoongi, switch!reader, lingerie, handj*b, oral (m. receiving), teasing, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, explicit sex (oc on birth control), f*cking from behind, missionary, f*cking on the floor, bigd*ck!yoongi, yoongi has a chain on, butt slapping (once), f*ngering, licking, biting, a tiny bit of breast play, slight begging kink, body worshipping, he calls oc sl*t once but it's tame, aftercare in bathtub

now playing: You Want to Make a Memory, With all My Heart, Perfect

a/n: I will not lie this pwp turning to a 7k fluff peice with smut. I am truly in love with this one and I miss yoongi 🥺 hope you enjoy 💞

There are two things your fiance’ considers most precious in this world–you and his industrial-grade music equipment. Trying to pry either from his soft, veiny hands is enough to earn a death wish. But when you come between his music producing or when his music comes between your relationship…oh it's a fight.

Over the last four years, you’ve grown quite an admiration for Yoongi’s relentless dedication to work and profound love for music production. It’s his lifeblood and you would never in a million years even think about taking something so beautiful away from him. And truthfully, one of your favorite moments to witness is when he finds the perfect beat for a new song after twelve long hours of mixing. Seeing his gummy smile break free on his handsome face never fails to send you over the edge of sanity.

Ever since the first time Yoongi let you into his studio, you’ve been sneaking in any chance you can get. Watching him work is a whole experience that leaves you feeling a combination of awe, respect, and utter joy. He likes you there too, his face always lighting up when he sees your faint shadow moving behind the glass door. There’s been a handful of times you’ve used his studio for more than music producing too…but that’s an entirely different matter altogether.

So no, it doesn’t bother you in the slightest that Yoongi is devoted to his music. And if it did, well, you wouldn’t have agreed to marry him last month when he asked you, would you? (You’re still on cloud nine about that one…)

What does bother you, however, is when your fiance' doesn’t allow himself to take a break despite how burned out he clearly is. Not that you’re one to point fingers, being one to stretch yourself thin for the sake of professional responsibilities too. But even so, you’d argue that you’re in better shape than your fiance’ who literally works 24/7.

Day or night Yoongi is always in his studio or bringing his equipment everywhere he goes. You get the logic, you really do. But you care about his health most of all; something he tends to put last.

That’s why this week you made one tiny request–that you take a weekend trip together and that he leave his equipment at home.

But like an itch that won’t go away, Yoongi is adamant about stuffing his equipment in the trunk of his car.

“I thought we agreed you’d leave all of this at home this time,” you sigh and gesture at his equipment stacked in the far corner of the trunk.

Yoongi takes your suitcase from your hand and tosses it next to his own. “It’s a safety measure,” he justifies. “You never know when you’ll need it or when the right idea will strike you.”

“Min Yoongi.” Your voice is sharp and earns your fiance’s full attention, which is no simple task when it’s typically the other way around. “You promised me.”

He steps forward and puts his hands around your stiff shoulders–an attempt to soothe you. “I won’t use it unless absolutely necessary okay? You know I like having my music with me at all times so if anything it’s just for my own comfort. It’ll stay in some odd corner of our rental and not be touched.”

“What counts as absolutely necessary?” You narrow your eyes at him, unwilling to let him off that easily. So what if he looks ridiculously handsome today in his open white button-down shirt with a white t-shirt and ripped jeans underneath?

“Baby,” he coos in a raspy voice.

Fuck–you swear to yourself. Stay strong, __.

“How’s this…I won’t use it unless something on our trip really inspires me. Or unless I’m bursting with an idea and I’ll run it by you first. I’ll wait until night too, when we aren’t doing anything.” He grabs your hand, the one with the ring on it, and kisses it softly–how evil of him. “Please?”

You glance at his hand in yours and then back into his deep chestnut eyes. “Kiss me again and I’ll allow it,” you say.

Yoongi smirks at your reply and leans forward to press his pillowy lips against yours. It only lasts a few seconds before he pulls back.

“Okay?” he waits for your go-ahead which, shamelessly, you give him.

“Fine, but just remember the only thing I want you touching this weekend is me and not your keyboard. So if I see you sneaking it around behind my back I will not hesitate to strip naked in front of you until you’re forced to give it up.” You gently pull your hand from his hold and walk to the passenger side door.

“Fucking hell.” You hear your fiance’ curse as you both hop in the car. “You're gonna make me drive an hour and half with that thought replaying in my head?"

You don't meet the question with a response, but rather smile sweetly at him and turn volume of the car stereo up a few notches.

What else is there to say? You simply want him to enjoy himself for three days without having to get stressed over work.

The place you and Yoongi are headed to is called Gapyeong, a small town about an hour away from Seoul. Its lush forests and clear streams give a sense of perfect serenity which is exactly why you chose the area. There are hot air balloon rides that'll provide you with an hours' worth of scenic views too, which is definitely at the top of the priority list.

The closer you get to Gapyeong the more you see the view out your windows changing. The bustling city with 60-story skyscrapers is now turning into majestic mountains, rivers, and vibrant greenery. You love Seoul but you miss nature sometimes.

"Yoongi look! " You point out the window when you spot a beautiful overlook up ahead It looks like the kind of spot many stop at due to a handful of other cars that are parked off the side of the road. "We should take a break and stretch our legs."

"Is that really necessary?" Yoongi asks with one hand gripping the steering wheel. "We're about twenty minutes from our rental and it's not even one o'clock yet. We have all day to look at sceneries and take pictures."

You toss him a slightly displeased look immediately. Little pit stops like these aren't your fiance's cup of tea as he'd much rather get from point A to point B. But if there's anything you want him to get out of this weekend, it's a break from routine.

"Come on Yoon, aren't you feeling a bit stiff from driving? We don't have to stay long," you do your best to plead with him. Yoongi glances at you and then at the empty space off the side of the road a few feet ahead. He sighs and signals over.

"Ten minutes," he says, putting the car in park. You grin excitedly and unbuckle your seatbelt.

"Let's go!" You lean over and surprise him with a quick kiss on his cheek. You want to point out the blush that creeps on his face but ultimately decide to keep that to yourself. Maybe you'll bring it up later. Yoongi tends to get more nervous when you point stuff like that out and besides, you like keeping little secrets from him sometimes.

"Alright, I'll admit it," he jumps out of the car and takes in the fresh air. "It's pretty nice out here. Reminds me of when I came here as a child with my parents." A light breeze blows a few strands of his pitch-black hair over his eyes but he cards it back with a few fingers.

"You came here as a child?" You move beside him to link onto one of his arms. Something about being this close to him makes you feel warm and safe.

Yoongi nods and walks both of you to the edge of the overlook to get the best view of the mountains surrounding the area. "When I was about ten years old my family and I took a trip up here. I'm not sure if this was the exact spot but it was an overlook similar to this. It was autumn too, the colors changing to shades of reds and oranges."

"Oh wow." You're embarrassed you didn't realize he'd been here before. Being this close to Seoul surely he would have but now it makes question coming here. Had he preferred to go elsewhere? And if he did, why wouldn't he have told you?

"I'm glad we came here together," he interrupts your thoughts as if knowing exactly what you're thinking. He then flashes you a tight-lipped smile. "I always thought I'd like to come here with someone special."

Your previous nerves are eased after this and you smile back, eyes piercing in his. He's so handsome with the way the natural light shines on his face. The thought comes from nowhere but you couldn't stop the next words even if you wanted to. "Can I take your picture?" you dig in your bag and grab your phone laying somewhere at the bottom.

Yoongi instantly breaks eye contact. "Uh–why? Don't you already have enough of me in there?" He chuckles, no short of shyness.

See. It's like you said before–he gets flustered at stuff like this.

You shrug casually at him and open the camera app on your cell. "I have hundreds of pictures of my boyfriend. But I still haven't gotten one of my fiance' yet." It's true, the last picture you took of him was before he proposed. You would have taken more since then but Yoongi is far less interested in them compared to you so you try not to overload him.

Yoongi shakes his head at your clever comeback. "We'll take it together." He reaches over to take your phone out of your hand but you move it further from his grasp.

"Just one of you first," you say. "Please?"

"Aigoo," he hits the railing of the overlook playfully. "I'll allow it this once, Mrs. Min. Where do you want me?"

"Yoon...." you flush hearing him refer to you as Mrs. You and Yoongi recently got engaged a month ago and the wedding won't be held until next spring. "Isn't it a little soon to be calling me that?" you ask with hot cheeks.

"Oh, I got ahead of myself." He scratches the back of his head and shifts his eyes towards the mountains again. "Let's take the picture okay?"

"Okay." You loop your arm out from his. "But Yoon?"

"Hm?"

"It's okay that you called me that. I like it even if it's a bit soon." You lift your phone camera and take a photo of him before he has time to respond. It's a cute shot with the breathtaking forest and mountains behind him. Your finace' has his signature gummy smile on as well, the one that makes you forget where you are entirely.

This one will go in the album you have dedicated to your memories with him for sure.

After stopping at the overlook you and Yoongi finally arrive at your quaint vacation rental. The size is just right for a three-day stay and is centrally located with nature enclosing the premises. To sum, it's private yet welcoming.

"This is the last of it," he says, setting his music equipment on the dining table. "What do you want to do now?"

"I'm kinda hungry for lunch. Maybe we can go to a local spot and then see if there are any balloon rides open?"

"You wanna do the balloon ride on the first day?"

"Why not?" We're only here for a limited time and tomorrow we're going to Nami Island so I thought we could do something leisurely tonight. And then I was thinking we could watch a movie."

The corner of Yoongi's mouth quirks into a half-smile. "You planned this out pretty thoroughly I see. Not a second to spare."

"Mhm," you say, shifting your stance when you see your finace' coming face to face with you.

"This wouldn't be you making sure I stay away from my computer would it?" He tests with interrogative eyes, knowing that it's exactly what you're doing. When you take longer to reply than he'd like, Yoongi continues speaking. "I don't mind by the way. I just think it's sweet so thank you."

You open your mouth to respond but a loud grumbling noise from your stomach stops you. Yoongi laughs and takes your hand to drag you out the door of your rental. "I think it's time I take care of you this time," he says. "I saw a pretty good place to eat a few blocks away."

Once you get in the car Yoongi reaches in his pocket for his phone but it's not there. "I think I left my phone in the kitchen when I was bringing stuff in. I'll be right back." He hops out of the car once you give a brief okay.

Namjoon: Hey man, hope you have a good time with __ this weekend! You both deserve some relaxing time. But I gotta ask, how's the new song going? Any progress?

Yoongi quickly taps on his phone's keyboard with a small sigh.

Yoongi: Not really. I've been working on it for weeks and I can't seem to get anything right. It's driving me crazy.

Namjoon: I get it and I don't have to tell you how challenging producing new music is. You still have time though so don't push yourself too much. Take in the weekend and maybe the inspiration will strike you.

Yoongi: I'll try. __ will likely kick my balls if I work this weekend. Namjoon: Ah just like __. Well, you left your equipment at home, right? So no worries! Yoongi: I mean I have it here but I promised not to use it unless necessary.

As soon as he sends the text everyone starts rapidly texting in the chat. Yoongi rolls his eyes at the sight of all the lurkers suddenly becoming vocal.

Seokjin: Yah! Tell me this is a joke! Jimin: Come on Yoongi you can't be serious! Hoseok: Ah Yoongi-hyung, always working! Be careful you still have a finace' after this! Taehyung: Hyung, I think you should focus on your future Mrs. She obviously wants to spend time with you this weekend, not fighting for your attention with your computer! Jungkook: Think about what you're doing hyung. Pick one: sex or no sex.

Namjoon: This isn't about sex Jungkook

Jungkook: It will be if Yoongi-hyung pisses off __! Yoongi: Everyone shut up, I didn't bring my music equipment to work okay? It's just a safety measure. Jimin: Wrong equipment to bring on a weekend away with your lovey hyung...why didn't you ask me about this first? Jungkook: At least someone is on the same page as me! Namjoon: For the last time this isn't about sex! Yoongi: I really don't have time for this right now. __'s in the car and we're about to go eat. See ya. Seokjin: What the hell are you doing? Making __ wait while you text your friends!

Yoongi turns his phone off and slips his cell back in his pocket. He'll deal with them later.

"Sorry, it took a bit." He gets back into the car and opens his maps app. "Let me just get the directions up."

Half an hour into lunch Yoongi's talking significantly less compared to earlier at the overlook. He doesn't seem tired but more disengaged.

"Everything alright?" You ask.

Yoongi looks up from his plate with a nonchalant expression. "Yeah why?"

"No reason," you lie. "Just wondering if you're feeling okay is all. Nothing happened while you went back inside the rental to get your phone right?" You let out a nervous giggle and it makes Yoongi soften his gaze. He drops his chopsticks and closes his hand over yours.

"I think I need to remember how to vacation," he says. This is true but the much bigger reason for his sudden disengagement is that getting the text from Namjoon reminds him of the new song he'd like to have finished sooner than later. He shouldn't be paying attention to it while on a vacation with you but it's a difficult habit to shake.

"Let work go for a bit Yoon," you reply. "I understand how much your music means to you but I want you to be able to unhinge a little too. The last thing I want to see is you overworking yourself."

"I guess you're right."

"Of course I am. Now try this." You clear the thick air by holding out your chopsticks with some of the best, richest kimchi stew you ever had. And that's saying a lot since you've basically been obsessed with it for years. The spice from the cabbage mixed with the hearty pork broth is to die for. "Isn't it good?"

Yoongi eats what you've offered him. "Wow, that's delicious. Here try mine." He does the same as you but with some barbecued pork. He makes sure to blow on it first to contrast the heat of the grill it was on.

"This is an excellent place to eat." You swallow the tasty pork and take a sip of your water. "We should leave a review, especially since it's a local restaurant."

"Sure, I can write one online before we leave."

And he kept to his word. Yoongi left a decent praise for the restaurant about fifteen minutes before finishing up your meal. You both signed the cute guest book at the front too.

'Great atmosphere, great food, great dinner date. We'll come back again after our honeymoon – Min Yoongi & __'

.

After lunch, Yoongi fulfills your wish of going on a hot air balloon. The pilot assists you into the basket and stays with you the entire time of the flight. Regardless of his presence, however, you and Yoongi are able to maintain a healthy level of intimacy. And besides, it's not like you both have a ridiculous need to make out all the time.

Your relationship was more subtle so to speak; everything was in the details. Gentle touches, small favors, remembering the more significant and least significant facts about each other. That's how you and Yoongi love and connect with each other.

Still, you like a good make-out session as much as the next guy but making out with the pilot only steps away? You and Yoongi prefer privacy–light kissing was okay though.

"The view is better than I expected," you say with your arms wrapped around your fiance's waist. "Thank you for doing this for us. It's unbelievable."

Yoongi holds onto you as well, his arms around your shoulders and back. "I wouldn't dream of coming here and not doing this with you. The weather is perfect for this sort of activity too."

While the balloon drifts over all of Gapyeong, its charming nature on full display, you snuggle yourself into Yoongi's chest. The moment is completely surreal and you can't imagine a life without him by your side. And what's more, is that he feels the exact same way.

"Yoon?" You lift your head to meet his face.

"Hm?" His eyes are set straight ahead, giving you a side profile.

"Can you kiss me while we're up here?" You whisper the words but he doesn't quite hear you evident by his lack of response. "I want you to kiss me," you repeat.

Yoongi looks at the pilot who shifts his eyes elsewhere as if on queue. A pair of warm lips capture your cooler ones milliseconds after and surprisingly it's firm.

"I love you."

"I love you too __."

You snuggle back into his chest as he points out several areas he finds interesting, comparing them to different songs it reminds him of.

You return to your rental around 7 p.m., right after dinner. Both you and Yoongi decided it is better to save the rest of the exciting activities tomorrow as originally planned and watch a movie. Dinner got you both stuffed to the high heavens too so you needed to turn in for the night.

"Hey baby?" he asks in the same raspy voice from earlier today while he was packing the car. Hearing it always makes your stomach do somersaults. Yoongi puts his hands on your waist and continues. "How would you feel if we watched the movie in an hour?"

You loop your arms around the back of his neck to draw him closer. "Okay. What do you have in mind?" You're sure you know where he's going with this until he starts hesitating his next words. And when you notice he's looking past you towards the dining table where all his equipment is stacked, you break from his hold.

"Min Yoongi, are you seriously trying to seduce me into letting you work tonight?" You throw your hands on your hips as most anyone in your situation would do.

"I'm not," he starts but pauses. "Okay I kinda was but I had such a wonderful time with you today that it gave me inspiration for one of my new songs. I'd kinda like to get a bit of it on my computer before I...forget it."

"Oh Yoon," you cross your arms.

"We can watch a movie right after. I don't even need an hour. How about half an hour. Twenty minutes?" He's must be onto something if he's trying to bargain with you this much. Well as much as it pains you, you're no she-devil. You'll let the man work but you're cutting him off at forty minutes only because if he gets to an hour, he won't stop for the rest of the night....or trip for that matter.

"Go ahead," you say.

Yoongi grins when you agree to your request, his eyes sparkle too. You're still borderline ticked about this but you said you'd let him work a little if necessary. And by the looks of it, he about to explode if you don't let him get his ideas out.

"Will you tell me what you're working on?"

"Top secret information. I can't tell you and risk exploiting the company." You slap his chest, feigning irritation. Yoongi chuckles and paces over to the dining table to unzip his laptop case. "I'll show you when it's done."

You take a seat at the table with him but find it extremely out of character when he gives you a displeased look.

"Uhm, wouldn't you be more comfortable on the couch baby?" he suggests, eyes darting towards the living room.

"Why? You don't want me being here or something?" you joke yet it rings true by the way he struggles to form an answer. Obviously he wants privacy this time. "Fine," you say and get up from your seat. "No more than forty minutes you hear? I'll lay down in the bedroom and nap or something."

"Mhm yeah," he replies and sits in one of the chairs with his earphones already over his ears. He looks cute actually...adorable even. You snap a quick photo and slip into the bedroom.

Well, you caved and let your fiance' work on his music for another forty minutes after the original forty minutes was over. So here you are, star-fished in your king-sized bed and jammies, waiting for Yoongi to be ready for your movie.

But wait a damn minute.

Just who are you __? You and Yoongi had a deal that he'd only be allowed a certain amount of time to work on his music and he pushed that limit with that stupidly handsome good looks of his. Plus he didn't even let you stay with him. Just tossed you to the curb. Isn't that a little sneaky of him?

Okay so maybe you're stretching it a little but you won't lie–you want our finace's attention back! And what better way to do it than to use your feminine prowess. It's sooner than you'd planned to use it but you have a sexy white lingerie set that you buried at the bottom of your suitcase. It's a lacy corset with matching panties you got only a week ago so he's not seen it yet.

You leap out of bed and start tossing your clothes off one by one–a giddy feeling settling in your gut. You swear to god if he even thinks about telling you to go back into the bedroom you will get on your knees and suck his dick.

Alright, maybe you're getting a little too wound up so to calm yourself down you go in the bathroom and splash some cold water on your face. After that, you dig in your bag until your fingers graze across something soft and lacy.

"Oh Yoongi. Yoongi, Yoongi, Yoongi," you hum to yourself in a sing-songy voice. "Two can play this game."

He doesn't notice your presence when you creak the bedroom door open. Your rental is all one level with the bedroom facing the dining room where your fiance' concentrates on his laptop.

You quickly body-check yourself one last time before strutting toward him. When you get close enough, you set your hands on the table and stare at him until he blinks his eyes up at you.

"__!" He tosses his earphones off his head when he sees a sliver of your cleavage above his laptop screen. "What are you doing dressed like that right now?" You'd tell him to look you in the eye when he talks to you but you enjoy his shocked expression too much–it's a mix between being caught off guard and getting extremely turned on.

"I wanted to get your opinion on this little number I bought a few weeks ago. I think it's pretty with the lace detailing throughout. And it fits really well too which is a rarity for me. Don't you think?"

Yoongi swallows hard and watches you stand straight to graze your hands down your sides. They move slowly, tracing every line and curve on your body. And he must admit this set you have on is accentuating you in the finest way possible.

"Yes, I think it's very nice __." He shifts his attention back to his laptop screen. "Is that...all?" he dares to ask.

"No," you shake your head, struggling to keep yourself controlled and seductive. Like how they show it in movies–seemingly effortless than in real life. You round the dining table until you're directly behind him. You place your hands on his muscular shoulders and start massaging them. "I'd like to know what you like about it Mr. Min."

Yoongi groans at the use of his surname and closes his eyes, basking in the feeling of your hands digging into his shoulder blades. "It's sexy yet elegant at the same time. Makes your body look like heaven with the way the fabric clings to your form. And the corset pushes up your breasts into two perfect globes whereas the panties accentuate your inner thighs, making it look like a sin that most can only dream of touching."

"Look at you becoming an expert in ladies' undergarments. Picking a few things up from Jimin huh? What else do you like about it?" You bring your lips to his smooth neck and graze your teeth ever so gently over the delicate skin. It's only a tease, barely touching, but you feel your finace' flinch at the action.

"Fuck–if you want me to go absolutely feral keep doing what you're doing." If it's meant to be a threat you're unscathed.

"Wanna see it Yoongi." You lick the side of his neck. "That's all I've been wanting this whole time. For you to let loose a little with me. But here you are with your computer for nearly two hours when you can be fucking me instead."

"Shit stop, " Yoongi orders stills one of your hands with his. "What are you doing __?" His voice is shaky yet trying so hard to remain firm.

"Isn't it obvious?" You move your body to one side of him to easily look him in the eye. Then you put a hand on the top of his laptop before closing it shut. Yoongi jolts forward when you do this but you grab his face with both hands and bring him into a kiss before he can sound a word.

You kiss him roughly, moving your lips fast against his. And what do you know, he opens his mouth just enough to let you slip your tongue inside. A hot sensation settles in your core upon realizing that you're taking the lead tonight. When it comes to you and Yoongi's sex life, it was never one of you who takes control. That was a shared venture ever since your first time together.

Yoongi lets out a couple of muffled groans when you move one of your hands to palm his bulge under the table. It's not fully hard yet but it will be soon. You then fiddle with the zipper of his jeans to which he stops with a free hand immediately.

You smirk when he pushes his chair back, to stand up. Yoongi then picks you up in sturdy arms, bridal style, and walks you both towards the bedroom.

"Not thinking about work now hm?" You tease and nibble at his neck. You're on the bed within moments, not so elegantly at that. "Yoon—" you start as he starts ripping his shirts off his body. He throws them on the ground before working on his jeans.

Your eyes wander across his smooth, tanned chest as you wait for him to say something. Starting at his collarbone where a thin silver chain hangs loosely around his neck and all the way down to his navel. You didn't know he was wearing a chain under his shirt until now.

"Yoongi?" You shift uncomfortably on the bed as you watch him push his jeans and underwear down his legs, breath hitching at the sight of his hardened length. But not a word comes out and it's making you crazy. When Yoongi chooses to give you the silent treatment in settings like these it typically means he's incredibly turned on.

He looks at you then at the ground between his feet.

You know what he's asking for.

And like his peachy sweetheart you stay put, biting down a smirk that he'd like to wipe off your face.

Yoongi cocks his head to the side and wets his lips at you. A long, impatient sigh leaves his lips. And when he grips his length in his hand you bolt off the bed and fall on your knees in front of him.

"Don't want to watch me get myself off do you?" He sneers and you reach to bat his hand off his length. You then spit in your palms and wrap your hands around the base of his cock. "Shit," he curses when you begin pumping him slowly.

"Let me do it," you say. You absolutely hate when he tries getting himself off in front of you. After all, that's your job, is it not? Eager to please you continue gliding your hands up and down his hardened member. You lean forward to lick the mushroom tip, just enough to have him shuddering.

"Fuck, put your mouth on me, baby. Show me how good you can suck." It's a plea for relief and you are happy to oblige. So with your hands still gripped firmly around his length you wrap your lips over the head of his cock. You let your tongue roll over the slit then underneath where all men are guaranteed to go weak on their knees. You then hollow out your cheeks and take him further until you can't anymore.

"Oh fuck me," he swears, immersed in the feeling of your mouth and hands working on him simultaneously. Your fiance' is pretty big so your hands needs to make up for where your mouth can't.

"Mph!" You moan a little when he thrusts into your mouth unexpectedly. He makes sure to get easy first, light gentle thrusts that make your panties stickier with arousal.

Yoongi watches as your cheeks get more hallowed out, eyes watering as his cock disappears between your lips. His own eyes are struggling to stay open as he wants to toss his head back in pleasure yet the temptation to see you taking him so well wins out in the end. "This feels so good baby. No one sucks cock like you can, goddamn it."

The thrusting gets rougher and faster with each push and pull. Your fiance' is evidently getting close to his release and you blink back any tears threatening to spill from the corner of your eyes. You love seeing him like this—letting go of all inhibitions.

"Yoon!" You yelp when he suddenly pulls himself out of your mouth and hands. You're sure he was seconds from releasing on your tongue. Yoongi chuckles at your half-offended face. He gets down on his knees himself and pulls you into a passionate kiss with a hand behind your back.

This time it's his tongue in your mouth, licking as many places as he can. His hands trace up and down the lacy fabric of your lingerie at the same time.

"I love this on you," he says when he finally breaks from your lips. "I'd like to see you in it more often if I can." He then tugs at the laced-up ribbon on the back that's holding it together until it's loose enough to take off your body.

"God you're so gorgeous," he praises and tosses the corset on the ground beside you both. Yoongi cups both your bare breasts and circles his thumbs over the hardening peaks.

"Yoon," you moan as his lips find their way to the side of your neck. He leaves open-mouth kisses from the sweet spot behind your ear and down to your shoulder. "That feels so–shit I don't even have words."

" Good," he hums and lowers his head to your breasts and mouths at one gently. He's careful to lick the nub and suck it firmly. While he does this his fingers play with the hem of your lace panties. When you feel them slip underneath the thin string band you raise your knees for him to slowly push the material over your ass and down your legs.

Yoongi lets your breasts go to allow you to sit back down and kick the panties off your legs. You go back in for another kiss once they're off but he stops you by gripping your jaw with a firm hand.

"Uh not so fast," he says. "I want you on your hands and knees slut."

You're stomach flips from the degrading name. It's not something you and him do often but the coolness in his voice tells you he isn't taking no for an answer. And to be quite honest, you're a little turned on by the change.

"You want to fuck me here on this carpeted floor?" You ask once your ass is propped in front of him. You just know he's staring at it. Your fingers claw the ground as you wait for his response.

"You're still on birth control right?" He falls to his knees behind you and guides the tip of his cock over your folds teasingly.

"Y-yes," you say. The feeling on his head rubbing against you already has your core twisting in pleasure.

"Then we'll do it here. Your cunt is already dripping with your cum. Got my dick wet already." He brings a finger up to trace up your folds and you clench at the subtle touch.

"No more teasing Yoon," you beg. "Need you to fuck me."

He chuckles lowly and eases his finger in you, pushing until it sinks all the way in. "You're forgetting something..." he then moves forward to graze his lips near your ear. "Right now I own your orgasms which means I can easily edge you with my fingers all night and not give you any kind of release. So if I were you I'd try asking again, nicer."

You bite your lip and maul over his icy words. As you do Yoongi curls his finger to stimulate your G-spot. The moan that comes out of you in response has him groaning into your ear. "Please—," you say in a near whisper. "Fuck me Yoongi."

"What was that? I couldn't hear you." He knows it drives you mad to do this; begging for his cock with such desperation. Still, he likes making you do it once in a while and this happens to be one of those times. Keeps you humble, he thinks.

"Please fuck me Yoongi," your repeat louder. "I can't wait any longer, please."

Yoongi gives you a quick peck on your jaw in satisfaction and sits back up on his knees. He removes his finger from your cunt and positions his length at your entrance. Both hands come out to firmly grip the sides of your hips as he pushes him in, all at once.

"Fuck—" You moan when he bottoms out. Everything inside you screams with you in arousal. Yoongi gives you a moment to adjust to the size; he knows how big he is, and then he pulls himself all the way out to slam back into you. Your body jolts forward with the push, hands gripping as much of the carpet as they can. "Yoongi!" You moan and he clamps down on your hips harder.

"Screaming so soon baby? We're just getting started fuck," he rasps and thrusts into you again, harder than the last. It doesn't take long before he gets into a steady rhythm and your moaning over and over again. "This what you like? Interrupting my work to get fucked on your hands and knees?"

"You were taking so-fuck-long. Had to do something to get you to pay attention to me again." You can hear the chain around his neck jangling louder as he fucks into you. And if you could, you'd peer over your shoulder to take in the sight but he's snapping his hips so fast and hard in you that your only option is to stare in front of you at the blank wall or down at your hands.

"My attention? You thought I wasn't paying attention to you—fucking hell this pussy is so wet and tight it's making me even harder." He picks up his pace, thrusting into you with determination and pure lust. Each time his cock sinks into your pussy he feels a spark of electric pleasure surge through him, going straight to his cock. "I promise, you don't have to worry about that anymore. Do you wanna know what I was working on? I'll tell you if you want to know."

"I thought that was classified and I'd exploit your company if you told me." You mimic his voice from earlier.

Yoongi gives your butt a slap instantly and you moan at the contact. "Don't be a smart ass when I'm balls deep in you. Now as I was saying, do you want to know what I was working on?"

"A new song? Oh shit, right there!" Your eyes roll up when all the thrusting starts making your walls clench, nearing your high. "Fuck, fuck Yoongi, harder, please! So close."

"We're gonna need to go a second time if you're coming this fast baby," Yoongi says, beating into your pussy. The sound of skin slapping skin echoes off the four walls of the bedroom. "Want this cock Mrs. Min? Want it to make you come all over me?"

"Yes, yes I do Yoongi. Make me come with your big cock. Fuck!" You pant as he continues to move inside you. "But you did it again Yoon. Calling me Mrs."

"Just-fuck-go with it!"

"Oh god I'm gonna come. Any time now," you whine, the cord inside you so, so close to breaking. Yoongi gives you a few more full thrusts and with that, you have your first orgasm.

"You soaked me baby," he groans. "Fuck." He pulls himself out of you to your surprise and you whip your head around your shoulder.

"You didn't come," you say.

"I know, but as hot as your ass is I want to see the face of the woman I'm going to be marrying when I come. So how about rolling on your back for me while I'm still hard?"

"Okay," you nearly grin with sheer happiness when you hear how sentimental your finance' sounds. Yoongi can be a tough man but his he's got a heart of pure gold.

"I love you," you say before he wraps your legs around his waist and puts himself back into you.

"I love you too." Yoongi puts himself back into you and starts chasing his release with so much passion that it stirs another spark of arousal inside you. "Oh my god baby, feels so good. And your eyes are so beautiful, lips perfect for kissing, and wanna hold you like this forever. I love it when you cling onto my arm when we're out in public too and when you fall asleep on my chest when it's just us. Fuck, fuck gonna come soon."

Your mouth gapes open at how much is flooding from his lips right now. The combination of his length working you up to a second orgasm and his words making you on the verge of tears is too much to handle. "Come in me Yoon, I love you. Only you."

He finally releases at your word and you come for the second time that night. Yoongi gently places your legs on the ground and pulls himself out of you. "Are you okay?" He asks. "We should've done this on the bed. I'm sorry, I got carried away and wasn't thinking—"

"I liked it," you reassure. "Do you...uh do you want to take a bath now?" Yoongi smiles and nods.

"I'll run the water in a few minutes."

"No I can do it," you move to get up but he stops you with a hand on your arm.

"I'll do it baby. Stay with me a moment longer." You lay back down as he crawls next to you on his back.

.

"Uhm Yoon," you ask, leaning your head back on his chest. You're both in the tub now with the hot water soothing your muscles. "Did You mean everything you said a few minutes ago? All the stuff about my eyes and...stuff."

Yoongi hears the faintest insecurity in your voice and wraps his arms around your waist from under the water. "I meant every word of it. And you want to know something?"

"What?"

"We never got to finish this thought earlier. But the reason I've been so preoccupied with my music lately is because I've been trying to make a song to surprise you with at our wedding. I've been struggling to find the right beats and lyrics because, well it's you. And anything I've come up with isn't doing the trick." He pauses and you're lost for words. You had no idea his "new song" was for you the whole time. "I'm sorry I insisted I bring my equipment this weekend," he says.

"I don't even know what to say Yoongi. You wrote a song for our wedding. I feel so dumb for being mad about it." You wipe a few tears from your eyes, just small ones that manages to fall from your eyes.

"Hey, don't cry baby," he coos. "And don't call yourself dumb. You didn't know and I was more preoccupied than I should have been about it. It's not finished though since you know, we had sex in the middle of it all."

"I—I'm sorry."

"Why are you apologizing? I love having sex with you. In fact, if you wanted to have sex in this tub right now you wouldn't hear me complaining at all."

"Yoongi-"

"I'm serious __ so if this is you getting shy then there's only one way to cure it. I'll start listing everything I enjoy about being with you. Let's start with when I sink my fingers into your wet pussy. Your moans are so pretty, begging for me to add an—"

"Ah stop, stop stop stop!" It shouldn't embarrass you but it does. Yoongi laughs at your change of character and kisses the side of your head.

"I'm just saying you don't have to apologize for anything alright? I'm the one that should be doing that."

"No, I understand why you brought it with you. But from now on can you try leaving it at home more? At least when we go on our honeymoon?"

"I promise you I will not bring it on our honeymoon. That is a line I will not cross."

"You better not," you say, closing your eyes. "I'll really not have it with you then."

"I expect nothing less as my wife. I know we've said it a hundred times already but I do love you __. More than anything. Even my music."

You tell him that you love him too, complete calmness showering over you. To the happy couple, you hum to yourself.

a/n: Hoping you enjoyed as much as I did writing this. TY for reading and LMK your thoughts 💞

masterlist

no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

[actually-safer-to-kiss]

Pounding

Summary: Reader has a migraine, and Spencer wants to help.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Hurt/comfort

Content warnings: none

Word count: 1.2k

The transition of seasons is something that has to be endured. It’s the time when you wake up to frost on your windshield in the morning but must remove your coat by the time you leave work. It is a painful time of inconsistency, especially for your sinuses. Not only with the pollen in the air (as well as on your car at all times) but the dryness as well. It causes your headaches to go from sometimes once a month to now twice a week.

And the first one happens this week, today. The migraine descended on you like a storm, brewing from your nasal cavities, its relentless waves of pain crashing against the shores of your temples. With each throb, the world around you seemed to blur and spin.

You shut the door to your apartment and let your bag fall from your shoulder, with no care with where it lands. Light, food, the smell of home is all too much to bear. With a sigh, you shuffle to the sanctuary of your room and bask in the silence while you can still control it. You unleash yourself from your business casual attire and fall into bed, nestling yourself under the covers.

The darkness relieves pressure, only slightly. It will probably be hours before it has settled, so you think it is best to call it a night now at 5:56 in the evening. There was no point in doing anything else as streetlights alone from the windows have proven to be enough to make the back of your eyes ache. You remained still, motionless, unmoved. Minutes could stretch well into hours without your knowledge.

Until the sound of the front door opened, cutting through the quiet. Spencer was home, which means it’s 6:06 now. The creaking floors from his aged apartment tell you he goes to the kitchen first, the sink runs, then his steps only grow closer to you until you can feel his presence at your back. “Migraine?” He asked, already knowing the answer.

It drains all energy and motivation out of you, so you merely nod in response. He’s more than familiar with severe head pain; chronic migraines that were resolved with a vitamin regimen. Fortunately, he has yet to complain about them bothering you in the year you’ve been together. And he never leaves home without them.

Unfortunately, this makes him eager to figure out your head pains. Last spring, he left out an array of vitamins in a pill organizer. They didn’t. It wasn’t an issue at first. It was clear he was trying to help. The downside of your boyfriend being a child prodigy and objective genius is that he will never back down from a challenge, even when you have asked him to. He can’t do it. Later in the month, he came home one day with an array of tea brands, mostly ginger and peppermint. He’s bought humidifiers, massaged the cartilage of your nose, and even consulted Reddit. It’s certainly worn down your patience, especially when you require complete silence.

“I can get you some hot compresses from the pharmacy if you want.” He jumps in completely. The last three words are merely to cushion the obvious; reiterating the point rather than saying something like, “I’ve had headaches before. I know how awful they are, so you should let me help you.” Which he’s also said.

You continue the annoying pattern by shaking your head with an audible moan. Opening your eyes hurts.

“What about nasal spray or decongestant? I can get those at the pharmacy as well.”

“I don’t need anything from the pharmacy. I took ibuprofen. Just need to keep my eyes closed.”

“Well, that can only help so much today. Saline will help encourage drainage and expansion in the vessels. Ibuprofen solves the head pain, not the root problem.”

“Unless the BAU can order planting fruit trees, it’s the best we can do.”

“What I’m trying to say is—”

You groan louder. “This isn’t a time for solutions, Spencer.”

Another unfortunate aspect of your relationship is that you can feel the way Spencer’s face softens from your tone. He then mutters out an apology, a brief sorry, but he doesn’t leave. He touches your shoulder and keeps his hand there until you turn to face him. And because you love him very much, you strain to open your eyes. You can make out a blur of his silhouette in the growing darkness, but still see clearly his glossy eyes and the quirk of his lips. “Can you do something for me first, though? Real quick?”

Before you answer, his hand slides toward your upper back, meaning you have to sit up for this. You were ready to say something along the line that he’s lucky you love him right now and leave it at that because thinking further made the pressure in your temples increase. 

You didn’t have to speak at all, though. Because Spencer is also holding a glass of water in front of you. You look up at Spencer’s puppy-eyed silhouette. “Not a solution,” he says softly. “It’s something you always need.”

Well, if that didn’t make you feel like an asshole. You accepted the glass without a word, feeling the coolness against your palm as you brought it to your lips. Each sip, at the very least, a distraction from the throbbing. Spencer watches you closely. You had no choice but to finish the whole glass. And you did, leaving Spencer satisfied enough as he took the glass and walked out.

You didn’t say a word. The sink ran again, and Spencer returned with another full glass. He doesn’t hand it to you, instead puts it on the nightstand before turning precariously on his heels. It takes you a second through half-closed eyes to realize he’s walking back out. You’re afraid to ask, wondering if you’ve made him too upset to talk. You push yourself and do so anyway, keeping your tone in mind. “Where are you going?”

Spencer turns on his heels once more, looking around momentarily like there were others in the room. He then looks at you. “I figured you wanted to be alone.”

You reach out, moving through the pain quite literally, and you catch the polyester of his cardigan just between your fingers and pull him closer until you can wrap your arms around him. You hold your breath, knowing the intense smell of his laundry detergent would be enough to collapse down to your pillow in further pain. His cardigan is soft against your face. “Do you have other stuff to do?”

He chuckles, his abdomen bounces. So, he’s not too mad. “I do not.”

Encouraged by his response, you tug him gently (and not so gracefully) into bed. He’s delightfully warm. Spencer kicks off his shoes in response before pulling you close. Then you bury your face into his chest, hesitant to breathe in the scent of cedar that clings to the cardigan. You try best to ignore it as you cocoon yourselves beneath the blankets, finding refuge in each other’s company amidst the inner turmoil that comes with spring. You listen to the steady rhythm of Spencer’s heartbeat, and find a fleeting sense of peace in the storm.

[vroomvro0mferrari]

CL16 | Oblivious

Sorry it took me so long, I was really busy with finals the last couple of weeks but I've finally finished the fic from the poll! I hope you like it :)

Summary: Charles has been blatantly flirting with Y/N for months, but she's the only one who hasn't noticed.

Charles Leclerc x Sainz!Reader

WC: 2.4K

Warnings: None

Masterlist

Charles was busy in the garage, talking with his mechanics when he saw her walk in. Y/N Sainz, the younger sister of his friend and teammate. He had seen her many, many times when she came to support her brother at his races. It seemed like Charles could sense her presence, knowing she was there without having seen or heard her, always looking up right when she walked in. Y/N Sainz was greatly loved by the Ferrari employees. With her bubbly personality, witty jokes, and bright smiles, all the team members enjoyed her presence. And Charles couldn’t help but feel the same way, although Y/N was completely oblivious to his affection. 

His face lit up when their eyes met, instantly smiling at her company. As soon as she was close enough, he greeted her, “Ah Y/N! Nice to see you again, you look lovely today!” He grinned.

“Oh, thank you, Charles. You’re so kind!” She responded with a bright smile as she hugged him in greeting, the flirty undertone going by entirely unnoticed.

Charles had been enamoured with Y/N since the first time they met. In an effort to not come off too strong and scare her away, Charles tried to flirt with her subtly. However, after several occurrences without any reaction from Y/N, it seemed his flirting was too subtle. Either that or she was not into him. But he couldn’t give into that possibility just yet.

As time passed and Y/N became a more familiar face in the paddock, Charles’s flirtations became bolder. He’d constantly try to include her in conversations and would make up all kinds of excuses just to talk to her. Whenever he did manage to string her into another conversation, he’d try to make her laugh as much as he could. Simply because he could, and because he loved to see her happy and smiling. And if he was feeling really confident, he would even go as far as to touch her arm or the small of her back while they were chatting away or walking around the paddock together. Nevertheless, to Charles's frustration, Y/N didn’t seem to notice his underlying motives, dismissing his actions and words as nothing more than friendly gestures.

Meanwhile, everyone else who had ever been around the duo seemed to have caught sight of the one-sided infatuation and attempt at courtship. Everybody except for Y/N had noticed Charles was desperately trying to make his feelings for the girl obvious, but she simply kept friend-zoning him. Frankly, he found it embarrassing. 

Nearly all of Charles’s fellow drivers had been caught up in one of his attempts to woo Y/N while she simply brushed his compliments off as friendly comments. It was hard not to notice Charles’s fruitless flirting when he did it right in front of them, but they didn’t say anything about it. His colleagues merely exchanged knowing glances with others aware of the situation, amused at Charles’s futile attempts at winning Y/N over. But as time wore on, and Charles kept trying, at least a few of his colleagues started to comment on his persistence, calling him a simp, and joking about his poor flirting. Some suggested he should stop his pursuit of Y/N, as it seemed she wasn’t interested, but Charles was relentless: he would not quit until he knew for sure Y/N Sainz didn’t and would never like him.

And so, when Charles spotted Y/N walking through the paddock with Lando, one of the people in the paddock she got along with better, talking animatedly and laughing loudly with each other, he approached her once more; he would seize any opportunity to blatantly flirt with Y/N. He quickly caught up with the two, putting his hand on the small of her back as he matched his speed with theirs. “You’re absolutely radiant today, chérie” He greeted her with a cheeky grin.  

Y/N looked to her side, greeting the new presence “Hey, Charles!” As oblivious as always, she sweetly smiled up at him and replied, “Thanks! You’re such a sweet friend!”

Lando was a mere bystander in the situation as he observed the interaction, surprised and amused at the ease with which Y/N once again waved off the man who was so clearly crushing on her. He held his opinions back until Charles left, “Wow, you certainly have no trouble friend-zoning him, don’t you?” He commented.

Y/N cocked her head as she looked at him, her brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

Lando laughed humourlessly, “Dear God, you really have no idea?” He paused, “Y/N, Charles has been flirting non-stop with you for ages. How on earth have you not noticed?”

She stopped walking and looked at him in confusion, “He’s not flirting with me, Lando, he’s just being nice. He’s a good friend.” 

“I’m actually quite sure he’s flirting with you, Y/N. So is everyone else. You could literally ask any of the drivers, and they would confirm it. The Ferrari employees too, I reckon. He likes you, Y/N.” He said unimpressed.

“Charles likes me?” She asked softly, suddenly turning shy, a blush creeping onto her face.

Lando sighed, realising his friend was even more oblivious than he initially thought. “Yeah, he does. I’m honestly surprised you’ve never noticed.” He gently squeezed her shoulder before they parted ways.

— — —

For the rest of the day, Y/N thought about Lando’s words. She thought about all her interactions with Charles over the last few months and realised that he did compliment her quite often. 

Once, on a sunny afternoon, Y/N was chatting with some of the Ferrari team members near the garage when Charles spotted her. He, as always, decided to walk over to talk with her, his usual charming smile on his face and mischief in his eyes.

"Y/N, only you can make a sunny day even brighter," he said with a big, playful smile and admiration in his voice.

Y/N blinked at him, surprised by his sudden appearance and his bold statement. "Oh, thank you, Charles! That's really sweet of you to say."

Unfazed by her obliviousness, Charles pressed on, determined to make his feelings known after such a long time. "No, really," he insisted, his gaze unwavering. "I mean it. You bring a brightness to the paddock that I can't quite explain."

Y/N laughed softly, “Well, um, thank you. That’s very kind. What can I say? I try my best.” She replied with a smile.

Another time, Y/N was in the team hospitality when she accidentally spilt her drink, leaving an obvious stain on her white shirt. Charles, who was, unsurprisingly, standing nearby (as always), had noticed immediately and courteously offered one of his extra Ferrari shirts. When he saw the girl he had liked for months in his clothes, wearing his driver’s number, he naturally couldn’t resist the urge to flirt with Y/N.

"Have I ever told you how stunning you look in red?" he remarked, his eyes sparkling with mischief and fondness at the sight of her.

Y/N laughed and replied, "No, I don't think you have," smiling at him in a friendly manner.

"Well, consider it said," he said, his tone playful. "You wear it better than anyone else, that's for sure."

Y/N laughed softly, appreciating her friend’s words, "I doubt that’s true, but thanks, Charles."

Thinking back to these moments, Y/N realised maybe Charles had indeed been flirting with her. However, he might just be like that with all of his friends, complimenting everyone he cares about. Nevertheless, now that Lando had brought this to her attention, she would surely pay extra attention to what Charles would say to her tomorrow.

— — —

The next day, Charles had caught her in a conversation again. They were talking about the race and the current situation with Ferrari. He mentioned the pressure from the team and all the fans that want him to do well, and that the car and the strategies aren’t working the way he wants them to. Of course, Y/N tried to reassure him; to relieve the pressure and stress Charles was feeling. He absolutely adored the way she was trying to comfort him and was not afraid to let her know, “I have to admit, Y/N, nobody can cheer me up like you can. You calm my nerves like no one else,” he said, looking at her lovingly while he expressed his feelings.

Y/N didn’t know how to respond. This was the first time she noticed he was flirting with her whilst he was actually doing it, and she had no idea how to react. When she felt her face heat up, she could only assume she was blushing from the nerves. She diverted her gaze, trying to come up with a good reply to Charles’s advances. How did she usually respond when Charles complimented her? She couldn’t remember now.

Charles was confused at Y/N’s lack of response to his remark. Normally, she’d immediately smile at him and thank him for whatever compliment he’d come up with, but now, she was looking away, and - was he seeing that right? Was she blushing? He had flirted with her countless times, but she had never blushed at any of his comments. Had she finally noticed his advances? Charles watched her with an amused smile while she searched for the right words.

Eventually, she shyly smiled at him, meeting his eyes in a fleeting glance before responding, “I’m glad to be of help.”

Charles, Charles, proud that he was the one to cause her flustered appearance, decided to push a little further, curious to see what would happen, “You really have no idea how much you mean to me, Y/N. Your support helps me so much.” Charles smiled gently and put his hand on her arm. When there’s no immediate response, he continues, “Anyway, I have to get ready for the race. I’ll see you later, yeah?” Y/N merely nodded and watched him walk away.

Her brother had been watching the interaction from a distance, observing the way his sister responded to Charles’s obvious flirting and, too, noticing the difference. “You finally figured it out, huh?” He said with a teasing smile. Y/N rolled her eyes at him in annoyance, but Carlos just continued, “You should let him know you like him too.” Y/N didn’t respond. “You do like him don’t you?” He asks, confused at her unresponsiveness. “Leave me alone, Carlos!” She replied, pushing her brother away. He laughed at her; that reaction was enough for him to know the answer to his question. He ruffled her hair and walked away, also needing to get ready for the race.

After her short talk with Charles, Y/N was sure that he liked her, but how to proceed? She could barely focus on the cars going around the track while all types of ideas were racing around in her head. What on earth was she supposed to do now? Should she wait until the next time Charles would flirt with her, or should she make the move instead? Considering Carlos’s advice, she decided she should take matters into her own hands.

She walked up to Charles as soon as she saw him entering the garage after the race. She had always thought Charles was incredibly attractive – like most women, but he looked especially handsome after he had raced.

“Hey, good job on the race!” She greeted Charles, pulling him into a hug. She looked at him for a second or two, contemplating whether she should actually do this. She smiled up at him shyly, “You know, I love the way your hair looks after a race.” She said blushing, running one of her hands through his messy hair. Charles is surprised at her comment, but he’s shocked at her hand in his hair. This is the first time she has complimented him – or at least, initiated it. Let alone, her touching him in such an intimate way. His eyes were wide and his mouth was slightly agape as he stared at her in disbelief. It was now Charles’s turn to be flustered as Y/N finally reciprocated his attempts at flirting.

In his silence, Y/N decided to continue, “It’s hot.” She said, avoiding eye contact. Charles was unsure how to respond. He had never experienced a situation like this before; he always knew exactly what to say, but she had caught him off guard. After Y/N had friend-zoned him countless times, he was definitely not expecting this; he was not sure what to do.

The absence of a reply only made Y/N more nervous. She distanced herself from him, letting her hand fall from his hair, realising she probably shouldn’t have touched him without permission. Charles was quick to notice her retreat and held her face to stop her from leaving. He raised her chin to make their eyes meet and asked her softly, “Let me take you to dinner?” while he stared at her with adoration.

Y/N smiled at him fondly and nodded her head, “I’d like that, Charles. I’d really like that.” 

“Good,” He said firmly, his smile growing wider, matching hers. “I have to leave now for the debrief, but I’ll text you, okay?” 

Y/N nodded her head in response, letting out a hum. Charles pulled her face closer with the hand on her cheek, and fleetingly kissed her forehead before leaving, looking over his shoulder to catch her gaze one last time.

Y/N stood still in shock for a while, processing what just happened. She had agreed to go on a date with Charles. She was staring outside, letting the situation sink in as she watched people pass by in the busy paddock. Suddenly, she spotted Lando waving wildly at her, trying to get her attention. When he realised that she had seen him, he smiled mischievously and gave her a thumbs-up, assuming the kiss he saw Charles give her was a good sign. Y/N rolled her eyes at him, annoyed by his nosiness, but Lando just laughed, amused at her bother and glad his meddling had helped.

[amjustagirl]

Chapter 3

pairing: hoshina soshiro x f! reader

genre: romance, angst

wc: 3.6k

summary: you've loved soshiro since you were seven. he will always place his duty above you.

chapt 1 / chapt 2 / chapt 3 / chapt 4 / chapt 5

The fight with Number 12 is exhausting, but Hoshina Soshiro emerges victorious. 

Not that he had any doubt (lies, what a fuckin’ lie, cos there was a point where he thought he’d drop dead from exhaustion, because Number 12 really was the new improved Number 10, who’d damn near run him into the ground), but other than the fact that he’d very much like to curl up in his bunk and sleep for the next week, he is pleased with himself. 

He wonders a little about the choice of location of Number 12’s appearance. Chofu airport is outside of central Tokyo, mostly suburban other than the circle of industrial Izumo Tech buildings a few streets down which he’s too familiar with (you come to mind, but he dismisses that thought immediately), but evacuation efforts seemed relatively complete, so he doesn’t pay any of this a second thought.

Because, of course, Number 9 tries to get its dirty paws on Captain Mina Ashiro. And, as everyone knows, if Captain Mina Ashiro is absorbed by Number 9, so too with her would be the rest of Japan’s hopes of withstanding the kaiju threat. 

Hoshina Soshiro therefore has no space in his mind to deal with anything but that.

By the end of the entire ordeal with Number 9, he can barely prop his eyelids up. He has reports to make, the casualties in his division to account for, troops to rally because the kaiju threat is never over, they’ll hit exactly when his back is turned. The Captain deserves a break with all that she’s gone through today, so it’s his time to step up and support her wherever he can. 

Still, he sneaks a look at his phone. 

 <stay safe>  <don’t be eaten by a kaiju>  <eat ‘em for brekkie instead>

He’s tempted to respond, but tells himself that he has no time to. It’s not that he’s avoiding you deliberately. Things have been hectic, and you wanted distance, hadn’t you, to give your friendship breathing space, let it recover from any awkwardness that lingers. It feels strange, being bereft of you these past few months. His fingers draft texts to you before his brain catches up to remind him that he needs to stay away from you. He wanders about the base on his days off, tracing an aimless circuit between his room, the gym and his desk, burying himself in paperwork and relentless training.

He tells himself this is how it should be. Duty never stops its call. 

“Okonogi san, report on any casualties in the area.”

“Mostly clear”, she reports. “Most civilians managed to clear out with the help of the Japan Ground Self Defense Force.” 

He closes his eyes in relief, though there’s still a prickling feeling of unease. “What about the Izumo Tech buildings?” 

He recalls blowing right through some of the buildings in the compound, blasting through concrete, leaving nothing but rubble behind. Surely no one remained in those buildings. 

“Mm”, Okonogi hesitates. “We can’t say for certain but rescue workers said they may have had some people trapped in the wreckage.’

It’s not his purview to concern himself with rescue efforts when his speciality is to fight and exterminate monsters. So he returns to base, doles out back slaps and hi fives to his officers, especially his baby ducklings, as he teasingly names his latest batch of recruits, swallows perfectly marbled beef courtesy of Izumo-kun, which reminds him - 

“I may have knocked down some of your family’s buildings in a fight”, he jokes. “Send the bill to Number 12 instead of me though, a vice captain’s paycheck won’t cut it.” 

Instead of laughing at his joke, Haruichi remains pensieve. “Last I heard, a couple of our employees were being dug out of those buildings”, he says somberly. 

Soshiro forgets how to breathe. 

“There were people in those buildings?” he demands. 

“Not everyone left when the evacuation signal went off”, Haruichi replies. “Apparently some people got trapped in the weapon forge -”

His body reacts before Haruichi has a chance to finish. He doesn’t bother if he makes a scene by shooting to his feet, racing outside the mess hall to punch your number into his phone. “Pick up, damnit”, he snarls, pacing outside, pinching his nose bridge because his calls go unanswered, your phone isn’t even connected to the network - 

Perhaps you just dropped your phone in the chaos. There’s no way you’re still stuck there. You should’ve been smart enough to run at the first sign of trouble -

“Vice Captain, do you want me to check -” 

He blurts out your name. Bless Izumo Haruichi who springs into action without asking questions. 

“Hey, nii-san - yeah, look, could you help me look into something?” 

He’s probably overreacting. For all he knows, you’re warm and snug in your bed in your cramped apartment, not buried beneath tons of burnt concrete and twisted pillars. Now, in the valley of despair, he admits what he’s always known - he misses you dearly, has felt the loss of your easy friendship over the last few months, mourned the absence of your laughter and smiles. 

It hurts enough to miss you. It’s unbearable to even consider he might never see you again. 

“Yeah”, Haruichi says, face dropping. “Thanks for letting me know.” 

His blood goes cold. 

“They pulled her out of the wreckage a while ago. She’s undergoing surgery right now.” 

For the first time in his life, he rails against his duty. He can’t leave his post, but the Captain orders him to go when she catches him harassing the hospital staff with endless calls throughout the night, asking only that he return before sunrise. It’s three quarters of an hour, maybe less if he floors the car he borrowed, weaving through kaiju decimated streets. 

He’s listed as one of your emergency contacts, probably because the rest of your family’s hours away in Osaka, so the doctors fill him in on your condition, even though he’s not family. 

Bones broken, by concrete crushing your body. Right side covered in burns, from a fire spread through the wreckage. Internal bleeding, probably a severe concussion, and they’re not sure your body will withstand the combined damage from all your injuries. 

“Too soon to tell”, the doctors shake their heads. “We’ll keep you updated.” 

Soshiro wants to punch the walls. Instead, he clenches his teeth. “Please do”, he replies tightly. 

There is nothing he can do but go back to base and wait. 

The hospital probably would put him on a blacklist if it weren’t the aftermath of a national emergency considering the way he bombards them every morning and night with calls to check on your status. You go through skin grafts for your burns, and he promptly loses his mind with worry when they tell him you’re on severe antibiotics to fight off the infections. Two nights ago, the doctors called him to say that they’re wheeling you back into surgery, having detected the source of bleeding in your stomach, and after another long sleepless night, all they can tell him is that they hope your condition should stabilise eventually. 

He’s on the verge of raising his voice to tell them to shove their half baked updates up their ass, when he remembers it’s not their fault you’re lying unmoving and broken in a narrow hospital bed. 

(it’s his) 

(he did this to you)

When they finally give him the okay to visit, he rushes to your side late at night with leave from the Captain, who merely reminds him not to break the speed limit. It’s past visiting hours but the nurses know better than to get in his way as he throws open the door to your room. 

You’re hooked up to machines which pump your lungs full of air, bruised and puffy and wholly unrecognisable under bone white bandages that wrap around most of your right side. You’re so still and unmoving that - if not for the beep of the machine registering your heart beat - 

He’s not going to finish that train of thought. He’s not. 

“Hey”, he breathes. He doesn’t dare touch you, lest you shatter. 

He stays by your bedside the entire night, slouched in one of those uncomfortable hospital chairs. “My week’s been awful”, he tells her. “It’s been hell trying to cobble together reports about what happened in the fight with Number 12. Plus, we have to rebuild our division and our base, so everyone’s running on fumes.” 

He talks and talks until the sun rises, and he gets up to go. 

“Don’t sleep for too long”, he says, and adds softly. “Stay safe, please.” 

The next day off he has, he returns, a large bouquet of flowers in tow. Your parents are there, finally able to make the trek from Osaka, almost impossible after the shinkansen schedules were disrupted and the highways unpassable. But they’re here, and though they look at him in askance, they quietly thank him for looking after you.

He wonders what they’ll say if they find out it was him who buried you deep in the ground. He’s too much of a coward to confess this to them when you might not wake up to see them again. 

He can’t quite put his finger on why, but he’s always been sure your mother dislikes him. Her smile, when directed at him, is too tight. She insists on you addressing him as the “young master” instead of his given name, which he prefers, and now, she laments the fact that it’s him who’s come to visit you instead of ‘that lovely Yamamoto-kun who sent those nice flowers’, when the door closes behind him. 

It’s a little petty, but he sends an even bigger bouquet of blooms a few days later, making sure to sign his name on an exceptionally large gift card. 

More information comes in on his fight with Number 12. He flips immediately to the section on civilian casualties, of which there are thankfully fewer than expected, though there’s a brief section on employees trapped in the Izumo Tech compound, of particular note because of its national security significance, though it states that several weapons technicians managed to retrieve a substantial amount of tech (specifically, blades) before the building came down on them. 

His stomach turns. He has to dash to the toilet, the taste of vomit burning acid in his mouth. 

The recruits all mutter why Vice Captain Hoshina’s in such a foul mood, forcing them to run laps for the most minor of infractions during training. He’s rude to the doctors when he calls them at night, claiming they still can’t be certain if you’re going to pull through, and even if you do, they also can’t say for sure that you’ll ever open your eyes again. 

Unable to sleep, he takes his frustration out on the training room. 

“Vice Captain.”

He snaps into a salute. “At ease, it’s after hours”, Mina Ashiro takes a seat beside him. “Staying up late to train?” 

“Yes, ma’am”, he replies. It’s the only thing that keeps his mind clear from worries. His sleep is marred by nightmares, his body unable to relax, anticipating the call from the hospital that he fears will inevitably come. 

“You were just doing your job”, she tells him. 

Despite the dark cloud he’s found himself trapped in this past week, his lips can’t help but quirk up at his Captain knowing exactly what’s on his mind. “I know”, he replies simply. “Still.” 

“Strictly off the record”, Mina says. “I’d behave exactly like you if it were Kafka in that hospital bed.” 

“Pretty sure it’ll take a nuclear bomb to take out Hibino-san but I’ll take your word for it.” 

“Hmm”, Mina hums. She’s a woman of few words, so it’s rare that she seeks him out for a conversation on anything that isn’t work related. “Do you ever wonder if we’re too focused on our jobs?”

“With due respect, Captain”, he replies. “That’s probably how we’ve managed to stay alive.” 

“Yes”, she says, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “But sometimes I think we forget what we do this all for.” 

 “And if I may be so bold”, he ventures. “What do you do this all for?” 

“When I was eight, a kaiju attacked my hometown. It wasn’t very large, now in hindsight, but it was large enough to destroy my childhood home, horrible enough to kill my cat.”

“So you resolved to grow up and be the best sniper the Defense Force had ever seen.” 

Mina chuckles. “I don’t think my eight year old self even knew how to be so ambitious.” Her expression sobers. “No, I just never wanted to see my parents cry again.” 

“It seems you’ve achieved your goal.” 

“Have I?” she asks, pulling at her hair absentmindedly. “I haven’t been back to visit my parents in years. I didn’t even keep in touch with Kafka despite us being close friends who grew up together. Yes, maybe in the grand scheme of things, I’ve kept the wider public safe - but that doesn’t change the fact that I’ve lost years of friendship, I’ve lost time I could’ve spent with the people I love.” 

“And you’re saying I’m the same?” 

Mina’s smile is serene. “It’s for you to decide that.”

She lets him ponder on her words in solitude, closing the door to the training room behind her. 

He still remembers the day he met you. 

You’re hiding behind a pillar, dressed in your kimono the same shade of blue as the hydrangeas that bloom in June. The presence of someone his age watching him spar spurs him on, makes him want to show off everything he’s got and give Sochiro a good fight. He’s convinced that the fight pushed Sochiro hard enough to grab you as a distraction from the fact that he’s actually being challenged by his younger brother. 

He doesn’t care if Sochiro’s bullying ways are directed at him. But when he makes you cry, he intervenes without thinking, even though it results in being beaten black and blue. 

But you look at him with stars in your eyes. “You’re amazing”, you tell him. For the first time in his life, Soshiro Hoshina believes that he is strong. 

It’s a cliche, but it’s easier to bear his older brother’s bullying and teasing if you’re there to spur him on with your cheerful words. You’ve always been in his corner, always happy to make a fuss over him, ooh and aah over every new move he learns, making him feel seen when everyone else’s attention is always focused on Sochiro, his more brilliant, gifted older brother

(to be seen is to be loved) 

You’ve supported him through every rainy day, every snowy day, every day of his life since his childhood, making it your life goal to craft the swords he wields. “I’ll make the sharpest blade so you can go be the best swordsman in the world!” you promised him, and so you have. You took up your family’s craft despite being but a slip of a girl, spending hours in the choking heat to learn a dying craft. You worked with an unerring focus in school, first to get into the country’s top engineering course, then graduating with flying colours to land a job at Izumo Tech, spending years subsisting on cup noodles and energy drinks. 

He’s never once even considered the toll it must’ve taken on you, the sacrifice of any semblance of a social life, the sacrifice of leaving Osaka, the comfortable cocoon of your family and friends to follow him to Tokyo. He’s ashamed to admit that he never gave any of this any thought, never really considered what it was like for you, only taking what you were too happy to give, your attention, your time. Every choice you’ve made, you’ve only made for him.  

And how has he repaid you? 

By running away when you admitted to feeling more than friendship for him. He convinced himself at the time with the excuse that he’s too busy, he really has no space in his life for anything but work and the art of the sword. It is all he’s lived and breathed for his entire life. 

But now - 

Now that he’s on the cusp of losing you, he thinks about the sun in your smile, the steel in your spine. He thinks about how much he admires your work ethic, your talent, your warmth and kindness. He remembers how much your friendship chased away the shadows of his self doubts, how you helped shoulder the burdens of chasing his dreams. 

Every rest day he gets to spend off-base, he chooses to spend it with you. Either at a cafe, which you always let him pick, allowing him to satisfy the cravings of his sweet tooth, or in the cramped apartment you call home, indulging in a fizzy can of beer as he talks your ear off about everything and nothing at once. With you, he can be Soshiro Hoshina without pretence, because there’s nothing about him that you haven’t seen. 

He’d ignored that twinge in his chest when you asked about getting yourself a boyfriend, fighting the urge to blurt out that he doesn’t think there’s a guy out there good enough to deserve you. So much so that he buries his relief when you admit that you’re not actually dating anyone by flippantly downplaying how much you mean to him, giving you instead the impression that you’re only worth as much as your usefulness to him. 

No wonder you’d been avoiding him. He didn’t even give you a chance to lick your wounds in private, cornering you, pressing you until you reveal your feelings for him. He’s so thrown by your confession that he reacts by running and hiding, doesn’t spend the time to unpack how he truly feels, doesn’t spare a thought for how you might feel, having your feelings thrown in your face so cruelly. 

How had he been this stupid? 

Worse yet, it’s his fault you’re fighting for your life in a narrow hospital bed. Collateral damage is unfortunately part and parcel of kaiju extermination, he knows that, but he was having fun swinging his sword, never thinking that he might be the cause of you never opening your eyes again. 

Fuck. 

He doesn’t deserve you, doesn’t deserve the chance to look you in the eye, never mind stand by your side. 

Your mother makes that clear the next time their paths cross that she’s of the same view. She’s stiffly polite, as if too painfully reminded that she has to be cordial to the second son of her husband’s longtime business associate, but after she pointedly asks him to shift his flowers to the side to make room for Yamamoto-san’s potted monstrosity, he goes in with a direct attack.   

“You don’t seem to like me very much.” 

To her credit, she doesn’t try to lie. “I care for my daughter”, she replies. 

“So do I”, he retorts without pause.  Because he does, even if he’s stupid enough to realise it a decade too late. 

“Hm”, she grunts, her doubt clear. 

“Since I was eight and she was seven”, he says, the words awkward in his mouth because it’s strange to admit how he feels about you to your mother who clearly disapproves of him, but it’s also a relief to put it to words. “I think I’ve always cared.” 

“I don’t think she knows that”, your mother says, the gentlest he’s ever heard her.  

“If she wakes up - ”, he corrects himself immediately, “when she wakes up -”, but even then his voice falters, because it’s been so long that you’ve been still and unmoving in this bed, swaddled in hospital sheets that too closely resemble a shroud. 

By the gods, what if it’s too late -

“When she wakes up”, your mother says without a tremble of uncertainty in her voice, “you should tell her that yourself.” 

He wishes he had an ounce of your mother’s unwavering faith in fate, because weeks later, your room remains colourless, white and sterile. He places yet another bouquet by your bedside, an array of blue and purple hydrangeas, the last of this year’s summer.

“Wake up”, he tells you. “Last chance for us to catch the fireworks festivals and eat shaved ice. I won’t have to steal your ice cream if we go.” 

You don’t move. 

“Your brother’s wedding’s been postponed because everyone’s waiting for you. Better get up soon, cos’ no one wants to get married in the winter.”

The room remains silent. 

The linoleum of the floor is so beige it makes him want to stomp a hole right through it, make it a little less bland and unappealing. He can’t bring himself to nod at the terrified nurse who squeaks at him to leave the room when it’s time to change your dressing. He’s not known to be emotional, but grief claws up his sternum, longing has his throat in a chokehold. 

“When you wake up, I’ve got a question to ask you. Don’t you wanna wake up to find out what it is?” 

He doesn’t know why he expects a response. 

“Stay safe.” A quiet sigh. Seeya soon.” 

It’s almost dawn by the time he pulls into the base.

Rain drums on the roof of the car, the morning a greyish, cloudy blue. He pulls on his combat jacket, the skin at the back of his neck prickling into goosebumps. His phone rings just as he gets out of the seat, thumb swipes right promptly when he sees the hospital’s number light up the screen. 

“Vice Captain Hoshina speaking.” 

“S-sir”, it must be that nervous nurse from earlier in the night. “You asked us to call if there’s any change in the patient’s condition -”

The beat of his heart grows thunderous in his ears. 

“Yes?” 

a/n: *dum dum dummmmm* another cliffhanger!!!

[pradabambie]

part 2 to this ask - rafexreader fight.

i'm finally back!! yay

let me know if you like this and remember request are always open <3 help your girl out in the creativity department hehe

it's been two weeks since you last saw or talked to rafe, and he was losing it.  

normally, you two were practically inseparable, spending every moment together, a routine rafe had grown accustomed to. 

his attempts to reach you were relentless.  

he spammed your phone with calls and texts, even emails. he not only contacted you, but all your friends. he even showed up at your house a couple times, your parents insisting on the instructions you gave them: you didn't want to see him. 

rafe even visited places you frequented, hoping for an encounter. today, luck was on his side. he spotted you sorting through the apples in your little pink gym shorts, and tapped your shoulder, careful not to startle you as you focused on the music coming out of your headphones. 

you looked up at him, rolled your eyes and pressed pause on the spotify app "leave me alone, rafe" you asserted. 

but as then you looked into his eyes, worn and red, dark bags under them. his hair was messy, and you could tell he hadn't shaved in a couple of days. his plea cut through the air. 

"please, i'm beggin you. let me buy you a coffee or something. i need to talk to you. i need you. i miss you." his words were interrupted by a shaky sigh that left your lips. 

"okay," you said, staring at him expressionlessly. 

"what?" 

"yes, okay, rafe. pick me up at six, and i'll have one cup of coffee with you. that's it." 

a sudden grin lit up his face. "yes! yes, of course. i'll pick you up—" 

"i have to go. see you later," you cut him off, not allowing him to finish. 

the hours leading up to the meeting felt like an eternity for rafe. this coffee date represented his chance to mend things. 

at exactly six, rafe, dressed in a shirt he remembered you liked, stood outside your door. you noticed his effort—neatly combed hair, a hint of cologne. 

you greeted him with a nod, signaling readiness to get it over with. rafe, attempting to conceal his nerves, led you to his car. 

the drive to the cafe was filled with awkward silences. once there, you both ordered drinks, enveloped in the familiar aroma of coffee. rafe took a deep breath, collecting his thoughts. 

"i don't even know where to start," he admitted, eyes focused on his coffee cup. 

you remained silent, waiting for him to continue. rafe took a moment to choose his words carefully, realizing the significance of what he was about to say. 

"look, i messed up, okay? i took you for granted, i realize that. i miss us, and i can't stand being without you," he confessed, his gaze pleading for understanding. 

you listened quietly, sipping your coffee, contemplating whether his words carried genuine remorse or were just another attempt to manipulate your feelings. 

"i've been reflecting on everything, and i want to change. i want to be the person you deserve. please, give me another chance." 

your response was measured. "i want to believe you, rafe, i really do. but how do i know this isn't another one of your little games?" 

he pulled a red velvet box from his pocket, revealing a silver ring with your birthstone right in the center. "i got this for you. i know this doesn’t fix things, but it's a start. i remember you talking about a promise ring or something like that." 

your eyes lit up looking at the ring, you had to admit rafe's good taste remained intact. 

 “it's gorgeous, rafe, but you can't buy me with this, okay?" 

"i know. it's just a little visual aid. i want you for life. i promise to show you i'm committed to this, to you." 

you paused, studying his words. the silence heightened rafe's anxiety. 

"let's just say you're on probation," you finally said. "but i swear, rafe, mess up once, and—" 

before you could finish, strong arms wrapped around you, lifting you off your seat, showering you with kisses. "yes, baby, anything you say," rafe declared, filled with newfound hope. 

[ginnsbaker]

fic: if i bleed (you'll be the last to know) (2/?)

Part summary: Leigh goes on a double date with Jules. You reach a tipping point with Leigh's relentless hostility towards you.

Pairing: Leigh Shaw x Fem!Reader | Word count for this part: 5,072 | Warnings/Tags: None for now... smut eventually, enemies to lovers A/N: So... this turned into more than a two-shot. But it will still be a mini-series. It's also kinda slow burn for a mini series (lol). Also, this isn't canon compliant at all. Meaning, I took a lot of liberties and added stuff to Leigh and Matt's relationship, and it doesn't follow the timeline of the show. With that said, enjoy!

Masterlist | Part I | Next Part

-

The vet bills hit Leigh's bank account way harder than she’s willing to admit. 

She knew taking care of pets could get pricey, but she thought that was just for those on their last leg, like Matt's dog, Rogue. Facing those steep costs made her think twice about turning down Drew's offer a while back to bring back her advice column. So, she calls him up as soon as she pays up a quarter of the charges on her credit card for Visitor's medical expenses.

Drew answers on the second ring. “Hey Leigh, what's up?”

Leigh doesn’t beat around the bush. She never has to with her best friend. “Can we meet at the cafe? I need to talk to you about something.”

“Sure. Be there in 20,” Drew replies right away.

The coffee shop they frequent is a small local business that specializes in cold brews. Leigh’s favorite thing about it is not the coffee though, but its interior: mismatched chairs, bookshelves lining the wall, and the temperature that’s always just right. Leigh arrives first, securing their favorite table near the window. Drew walks in a few minutes later, coffee already in hand, and greets her with a warm smile.

“Okay, spill. What's going on?” Drew asks as he takes a seat.

“I've been thinking... about the column. I was wrong to turn it down. I want back in.”

The look of utter surprise on his face tells Leigh this was the last thing he expected. She senses his response won't be a straightforward yes.

“I'd be thrilled to have you back, Leigh, I really would—”

“But?” Leigh cuts in. She doesn’t need to hear a bullshit ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ excuse. She wishes Drew would just be as direct with her as she is with him.

Drew lets out a sigh. Under different circumstances, saying no to Leigh would be as easy as declining an upsell from a McDonald's cashier. However, ever since Leigh became a widow, rejecting her feels significantly harder, even though he's well aware that Leigh values honesty over pity.

“But the thing is, the new writer’s really hitting it off with our audience. She's had a string of articles go viral lately.”

Leigh doesn’t look at all impressed by that. “Yeah, I heard.”

Personally, Drew’s not a fan of the new writer's style, and honestly, he still prefers Leigh. It would just be a hard sell if he brought this up to management. As the saying goes: if it ain't broke, don't fix it.

“Look, I still think you have a unique voice. You know I’d still take advice from you over the new girl.”

Leigh scoffs a little at that, shaking her head. Drew rolls his eyes; it’s typical of Leigh to never know how to take a compliment. He continues, “How would you feel about guest writing? Maybe for the first couple of weeks, we could find a way to incorporate your insights into a series or a special feature.”

It’s not what she hoped for, but she recognizes the olive branch for what it is.

And she’ll take it. 

“I... yeah, I think that could work, Drew. I've got a ton of new ideas, and this... this could be great,” Leigh says. “Uhm, thanks.”

Drew grins. “I thought you'd like that. Let's kick off with a couple of guest pieces, see how it goes.”

Leigh half-heartedly returns his enthusiasm just as her order of cheeseburger and affogato are served.

“Anything new with you?” Drew asks, his voice taking on that tone he reserves for the really good gossip. Knowing Drew's helping her out, Leigh figures a little life update wouldn't hurt as a form of thanks.

That update is about you. And the moment Leigh spills the beans, Drew's face lights up like a Christmas tree. But his excitement fizzles out just as fast when he figures out Leigh's got nothing scandalous to say. All she mentions is how you might've missed the mark by not doing your homework on the guy you were seeing.

“What’s your plan then?”

“Seems like everyone’s asking me that,” Leigh says flatly.

“You took your stray to her place, right? So, there must be some sort of plan. I mean, you could've gone to any other vet if you wanted to avoid her.”

“Yeah, but her clinic's location is so convenient, and I didn't want to shrink my world just for her.”

Drew hums in response. Leigh admits she’s been unusually passive with you. Normally, she'd confront issues head-on, but even almost half a year later, she still hasn’t fully processed Matt’s death, let alone his cheating. She's been trying a new tactic, almost as if by ignoring her problems, she hopes they'll fade away on their own. She seems to be betting on the idea that if she pretends long enough, maybe one day she'll wake up and find those issues have lost their grip on her. 

“I don’t know Leigh, the whole thing’s weird,” Drew says, scrunching up his face a bit.

“It’s not like I’m trying to make a friend or enemy out of her,” Leigh replies with a shrug. “I’m just using her services as a doctor, and she’s getting paid for it. That’s all there is to it.”

“Oh, so that’s why you need your old job back. She’s draining your purse,” he says, smirking as he adds, “Bitch.”

“You don’t have to call her that,” Leigh chides, though the corner of her mouth twitches in amusement. Deep down, she understands the twisted satisfaction in disliking someone without having to justify it.

“The funniest thing that can happen is if you two actually end up being friends,” Drew quips, picking up an accidental curly from Leigh’s plate.

Leigh finds that scenario hard to imagine, almost impossible. She doesn’t think she can be friends with someone Matt liked more than her.

-

Leigh is hunched over her laptop, with sheets of paper and colorful markers spread out on the table, meticulously designing missing dog posters for Visitor.

Jules, leaning against the doorframe with a mug of coffee in hand, watches Leigh for a moment before speaking up. “You know, you should've done that the second you decided to take Visitor in.”

Leigh doesn't look up from her screen. “His leg needed to be taken care of first,” she reasons.

Jules rolls her eyes, pushing off from the doorframe to come closer. “And? How did it go at the clinic?”

Leigh pauses, then lets out an exaggerated sigh. “I already told you about the tests Visitor had to go through. They said he’ll be fine.”

“I mean with the doctor, not the patient,” Jules clarifies with a smirk.

There's a beat of silence before Leigh quips, “No cat fights happened, I promise,” her eyes going back to her laptop.

“Any chance she knocked off a bit of the bill?” Jules asks, moving to sit behind Leigh to take a peek of her work. It looks like an 8th grader’s art project, but she bites back any criticisms.

“Nope.”

“Told you she’s a bitch,” Jules murmurs under her breath.

“It's not like anyone's doing charity work these days, especially not in this economy,” Leigh argues weakly.

“Yeah, right. Like she needs your money, Leigh. Veterinarians are loaded, if you didn’t know.”

“If you say so.”

Jules decides to drop the subject, and Leigh can hear her shuffling and thinking behind her.  

“Hey, there's something I've been wanting to ask you. Don't get mad, okay?”

“Prefacing like that? I'm bracing myself to be utterly scandalized,” Leigh says before smiling and sneaking a glance at Jules.

“Great, you’re cracking jokes again. That’s a good sign,” Jules deadpans but a second later, she’s smiling too. 

“Ask away,” Leigh prods.

Jules takes a deep breath, and then:

“Do you think you’re ready to meet someone new?”

Leigh suddenly stops, her fingers just hanging there above the keyboard, unsure of what to do next. What’s the protocol here? If three months is usually the cooling period after a break-up before one can start dating other people, then what's the deal when it's about a husband who's not only passed away but was also cheating? How does that work?

Before Leigh can come up with an answer, she realizes she's already saying no.

Jules groans. “Come on, it's just a double date. It'll be fun. You and me and—”

“I’m really not in the mood to meet other people, Jules.”

Jules cuts in, laying it on thick. “Leigh, seriously, when was the last time you went out and had a little fun? You're practically turning into a recluse. I won't stand by and watch my sister morph into the neighborhood's infamous dog lady.”

“Dog lady? Really?”

“I'm just saying, it's either try something new or start knitting dog sweaters for fun. Your choice.”

Jules can be a real pest sometimes; it’s an endearing quality except when they seem ready to go for each other's throats.

“You think you’re hilarious, don’t you?” Leigh rests her chin on her hand, seriously considering the invitation for a second. “I don’t know how to meet people, Jules. I stopped meeting people when I met Matt. He was my entire world, you know?”

Jules softens, throwing her arms around Leigh’s shoulders. “I know. And I wouldn't push if I didn't think it could be good for you. Plus, I promise, if it's awful, I'll personally escort you out and we can ditch them for ice cream. How's that?”

Leigh senses that Jules won't give up until she gets a yes, so she decides to concede just this time and get it over with.

“Okay, okay, you win. I'll go on your stupid double date. But if this ends in disaster, you're buying me the biggest tub of ice cream you can find,” Leigh says, shrugging her sister off her.

Jules pumps her fist in victory. “Deal! You won't regret this, Leigh. And who knows? It might actually be fun.”

-

The double date goes surprisingly smoothly, except for the occasional touches coming from her date. To be fair, they are typical for a date and are executed with respect. However, for some reason, Leigh finds herself unusually conscious of every physical contact, making her anxious to move things along and call it a night.

As they step out of the restaurant, Leigh mentally scrambles to remember her date's name. She's bracing for the goodbyes, ready to retreat into the comfort of her room, when Tommy, Jules' girlfriend, suggests they cap the night off at a new bar. It turns out Leigh's date has an investment in the place. He jumps at the suggestion, clearly eager to flaunt this detail, perhaps hoping to impress her.

He does earn a sincere, “That’s cool,” from Leigh, just before she slides into the backseat of his car. Tommy quickly calls dibs on the front seat, leaving the siblings sitting next to each other in the back.

The new bar clearly wants to be the town’s next hotspot, but it seems to be trying too hard. It's got this odd vibe where you're not sure if you should be dancing or just looking around, wondering what it really wants you to do. But Leigh agreed to this, and she won’t embarrass Jules by ditching. 

“Can I get you something to drink?”

She stiffens a bit as he draws near, the heat of Patrick's breath—Jules had reminded her of his name during the car ride—making her uncomfortably aware of how close he is. She shifts, trying to put a polite distance between them without seeming too obvious about it. “Um, just a gin and tonic, please,” she says.

She practically sighs in relief as Patrick heads off to order, her eyes darting around the bar. The 90s R&B background gets her head bopping, but all she’s thinking about is her couch and an episode of Parks and Recreation waiting for her at home. Jules and Tommy are in their own little world, giggling and looking all cozy. Leigh never thought she could feel like a third wheel on a double date.

Patrick is taking his time, and when Leigh cranes her neck to peer over the bar, she catches him striking up a conversation with a blonde. Her eyes narrow into slits as she watches, both of them obviously charmed by the other as Patrick laughs at something she said, enjoying himself in a way he hadn’t all night. 

Leigh feels a prick of irritation. Sure, she hasn’t been giving him the time of his life, but they’re still on a date. Isn’t there some unwritten rule about not flirting with other people when you're supposed to be with someone?

She waits a bit longer, hoping Patrick would remember he was supposed to be getting her a drink and come back. However, he hasn't moved an inch from his spot and is even passing Leigh's drink to the woman as they keep chatting. Leigh’s mind races. She knows she isn’t into Patrick, has been giving him nothing but the bare minimum, yet she can't shake off the feeling of being slighted. It's not like she wanted his undivided attention, but this... this just seems rude.

She catches Jules looking at her, a questioning eyebrow raised. Leigh just shrugs, not sure how to explain the jumble of feelings she's experiencing without sounding petty or jealous. 

When Patrick finally comes back with her drink, the mood has already turned sour for Leigh. She musters a polite smile, accepts the gin and tonic with a thank you, but then heads to the bar on her own without saying anything more. At this point, she's indifferent to what Patrick, Tommy, or Jules might think or say of her; she's finished playing nice for the day. 

Leigh slams her gin and tonic like it's water, the sting barely registering. She signals for another without missing a beat and strangers start sliding over drinks with cheeky grins. She toasts to nothing, to no one, letting the conversations slip away before they can get even one word out.

By drink number six—or was it seven?—everything's spinning, laughter too loud, lights too bright. Leigh’s clinging to the bar for dear life when she thinks she sees you. But as quickly as the figure appears, it's lost again, leaving her questioning her ability to handle her alcohol. Back in her college days, Leigh could hold her liquor like a champ, thanks to endless nights of partying. But now, staring down at her drink, she realizes she might've overestimated her current tolerance. The alcohol hits harder than she remembers, making her head swim more than she'd like to admit. It's been a while since she's gone this hard, and her body isn't shy about reminding her.

The worst part of it though is why, of all the faces her mind could conjure up, it's choosing yours.

Just as she tries to shake off the bizarre vision, your face appears again, this time on the dance floor, writhing in a sea of thick, sweating bodies. You're dancing closely with a man, and it’s—

It’s Matt. 

Leigh blinks rapidly, attempting to dispel the hallucination because it's impossible; Matt is dead—this can't be real. 

But the image of you and Matt refuses to go away. She continues to see the way your grind against him, the way you caress his face as you pull it further into your neck. Anger surges through her, hot and uncontrollable, and before she knows it, her last shot of tequila crashes to the floor. Before the bartender or anyone else can even figure out what's happening, Leigh storms through the crowd, pushing her way to what she believes is you and her husband, and shoves the couple hard. The moment she does it, the fog in her brain finally clears.

She saw wrong. They’re just a random couple, looking as shocked as she feels mortified.

Humiliated and more drunk than she's willing to admit, Leigh doesn't stick around to apologize. Tears start to well up as she pushes through the crowd, dodging empty faces while Jules' calls fade into the background. She shoves through the last of the mob, bursts through the doors into the night, and freedom feels just a breath away. But that breath catches, twists into a violent churn in her gut, and she can barely stagger a few desperate steps away from the entrance before her knees are on the cold pavement, and she’s spilling out onto the ground in front of her. A few groans of disgusts from the people around her doesn’t register as she succumbs to the consequences of her indulgence. Shortly after, she remembers why she’s cut back on alcohol, apart from the fact that Matt abhors it, turns him off more than anything.

“Leigh?”

The voice is familiar, even if she’s heard it only a few times. Her head's spinning as she looks up, the chilly air slapping her face after the stuffiness of the club. She blinks, trying to clear the blur of tears and the aftereffects of one too many drinks, squinting at the figure stepping out from under the streetlights.

Your face, more clearly now under the lamp post is kind of sobering her up a bit.

So, were you actually there in the club, or is Leigh so haunted by thoughts of you and Matt—thoughts she's tried so hard to ignore and bury—that she managed to conjure you as a way to finally confront her true feelings about the entire situation? It’s always the battles with herself she never wins.

“Hey, you alright?” you ask, lowering yourself to get a better look at her but keeping back a bit—just enough space for her to catch her breath or in case she needs to throw up again.

Leigh doesn't respond, doesn't even seem to see you're there. You rummage through your crossbody bag, pulling out some wet wipes and offering them to her. She still doesn't look up, but grabs what you’re offering with a little force. 

She proceeds to wipe her mouth and then her entire face as you continue talking, words tumbling out in a nervous stream.

“I saw you back there, in the club. I wasn't sure if I should come up to you, you know, with everything that's happened... with me being... well, the person I am in all of this,” you explain softly. “And then I saw what happened, how upset you got. Sorry I followed you here, I…I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

Leigh abruptly gets to her feet, and you instinctively step back, giving her more room than probably needed.

“Why?” Leigh fires at you, her tone so icy it almost makes you regret coming after her. You're taken aback, eyebrows scrunching up in confusion. 

Why what?

“Why do you even care?” she clarifies, eyeing you as if you're the densest person on the planet.

You grasp for something, anything that sounds like you're not just here out of guilt. “Anyone who knows you would be worried,” you say before you can think twice about what it could mean.

Leigh's laugh is sharp, cutting. “You don't know me,” she throws back.

“Yeah, I don’t,” you mumble to yourself. You wish you did, so you could fix this.

Leigh’s anger doesn’t let up. “You know what I think? You're playing the good Samaritan to scrub off your guilt. But not knowing Matt was married? That's on you. I bet you never asked too many questions because you wanted him to be Mr. Perfect—single, ready to mingle, the dream guy.”

Opening your mouth to argue, you find yourself at a loss. Leigh’s not entirely wrong. With Matt, you were in a bubble, caught up in the thrill of meeting someone who seemed so right, so honest. You clung to his every word, wanting to believe in this image of him you'd built up. 

The truth is, you never wanted to meet Leigh Shaw; you wanted to believe Matt's only fault was how he ended things with you, by disappearing.

But before you can admit to all of that, Leigh is already storming off. You think about chasing after her, but she spins around so fast at your footsteps, shooting you a threatening look and a low, “Stop following me,” that nails you to the ground. 

You keep staring at the spot she disappeared from, long after she's gone, wondering why Matt felt the need to find love elsewhere.

-

Leigh goes home, but not to an empty house. The second she opens the door, Visitor bounds into her arms, full of wiggles and wet nose kisses. Her mom's off somewhere, doing who knows what—Leigh's stopped trying to figure out where or why. Meanwhile, her phone buzzes with a string of voicemails from Jules, but Leigh's not in the mood to dive into those just yet. She decides they can wait till morning, along with the other missed calls and unread messages from strangers, asking for more information on Visitor.

For now, she peels off her socks and pants, leaving them scattered carelessly up the stairs before passing out on her bed.

-

Visitor’s follow-up check-up rolls around way too quickly for comfort. The moment Leigh steps through the clinic door with the dog in tow, you can practically cut the tension with a knife. Leigh's trying to keep it together, but her attempts at civility are imbued with a coldness that can’t be ignored.

With only a small ‘good morning’ from you and a nod from Leigh, you start the consultation, knowing you’d be doing her a favor if you just get right to it.

“How's Visitor been eating?” you ask as you work your stethoscope. 

“He eats fine,” Leigh drawls.

You nod, jotting down a note before moving on, “And his activity levels? Any changes there?”

Leigh’s response comes laced with sarcasm. 

“Oh, he's just peachy. Running marathons every morning.”

You clear your throat, trying to rein in your mounting annoyance at her childish behavior. “I'm just trying to get a complete picture,” you say.

But Leigh's not having any of it. Her comments grow sharper, her patience thinning, and it's clear she's more interested in taking jabs at you than discussing her dog's health.

Her last sarcastic remark has you drawing the line. “Leigh, you can be upset with me all you want outside of this clinic, but I won't tolerate disrespect while I'm trying to do my job,” you say evenly. “You're welcome to find another vet if you can't keep this professional. I have every right to refuse service if this continues. It's not what I want, but I'm not about to let you treat me any less professionally.”

Leigh goes quiet, yet she keeps her eyes locked on yours, decidedly not backing down. Then, after a tense moment, she mutters a single word, “Sorry.” It's not much, but it's something, and you decide to take it and move on.

“You mentioned something about a blood sample?” Leigh says, steering the conversation back to the reason she came in, and you're all for following her lead on this.

“Yeah, we need to check if his platelets are up and his infections are down, see if the meds are doing their job,” you explain. Then, veering a bit from standard procedure, you add, “Since this is a follow-up visit, I'm going to cut the lab test price in half for you.”

The discount evidently lifts her mood. It's not a perfect truce, but it's enough to get through the examination without any more barbs.

A while later, you're back with Visitor's CBC results in hand. “The infection's gone down, but it's still borderline,” you report, showing her the numbers. “We'll need to keep him on the medication for another week. And I'm adding some multivitamins and a specific diet to his regimen.” 

You scribble down the details, then note at the bottom of the pad about the discount—not just for the lab test, but for the prescriptions too.

Leigh takes the paper, scanning the details before her eyes finally meet yours. “Thank you,” she says, her voice softer than it's been.

“You’re welcome,” you reply with a smile before going back to your notebook, looking deep in thought. 

Leigh feels like you're back to your usual, friendly self. Yet she thinks she prefers the more raw, unfiltered version of you. The version that called her out earlier. These days, she's starving for that kind of honesty. Because having her as your client can’t be all that pleasurable. She's aware of how challenging she's been, and the straightforwardness somehow makes her feel more understood, more seen.

She wishes people would stop seeing her as Leigh: the one with the dead husband.

Then, out of nowhere, she asks, “When did you start working here?”

It's a seemingly insignificant question, yet coming from Leigh, it prompts you to close your notebook and focus entirely on her.

“I—”

“Because a year ago, I remember meeting a different doctor,” Leigh adds, absentmindedly running her fingers through Visitor’s coarse hair as he sleeps on her lap.

“You’ve been here before?”

It’s a painful memory—one that still sometimes brings tears to her eyes whenever it crosses her mind. Back then, the clinic bore a different name, and she and Matt had come together to say goodbye to Rogue.

“I have when it was still called Palm Coast,” she says.

You nod, understanding the context now. “Yeah, that was before my time. I bought this clinic on a whim after spending a few years practicing in Dubai.”

While most would latch onto the tidbit about your intriguing career history, Leigh zeros in on something else entirely, asking directly, “When did Matt start coming here?”

You shift uncomfortably at her question, and Leigh immediately regrets pushing too hard. She’s about to backtrack when you halt her apologies. “It’s okay. I’m open to talking about it, just not here,” you suggest. “How about over coffee?”

Leigh hesitates, then says, “Okay, let me just text my boss that I won't be able to lead the yoga class this morning.”

“It doesn’t have to be now. Tomorrow works,” you say.

Realizing her assumption, Leigh’s cheeks color slightly. “What time?”

Now it's your turn to feel a bit awkward. “Would 7 work? It's the only time I have before the clinic opens.”

“In the morning?” Leigh says again, making sure she heard you right.

You nod sheepishly in reply. 

“Or we could maybe—”

“No, it's okay,” Leigh interrupts quickly. She's usually up before sunrise anyway; the only change would be trimming her morning run a bit. And for a one-time chat to get the answers she's after, she figures she can make such a small sacrifice.

–

“Are you sure you want to return Visitor to his real family?”

True to form, it's Jules who breaks the two-day-long sibling spat. It's usually her who tries to smooth things over with an apology, even on days when Leigh isn't exactly the easiest person to deal with. Her therapist keeps telling her not to always be the one to buckle, especially when she's the one who's been hurt, that Leigh should be the one to step up and make things right for a change. 

But here she is, reaching out first, just like always—because waiting for Leigh to make the first move feels like waiting for snow in July.

“Oh, so you’re talking to me again?” Leigh says as if she's gearing up for another round of conflict rather than welcoming peace.

Jules ignores her and continues, “Have you actually tried to find Visitor's owners, or have you just kinda... kept him because it feels good to have him around?”

“So what if it feels good to have a dog who loves you and is loyal to you?”

Jules shakes her head in a condescending manner, which only serves to irritate Leigh further. As soon as her popcorn is done, she heads out of the kitchen, flops onto the couch, flips on the TV, and kicks her feet up on the coffee table. Jules follows her, opting to stand next to the TV, poised to yank the plug out if necessary.

“Leigh, you do understand that taking care of a dog isn't something to take lightly, right?” Jules starts, but she breaks off when the dog in question trots over, tail wagging, trying to coax Jules into picking him up.

Leigh acts like she hasn't heard a word, her eyes glued to the TV screen.

“I thought you'd learned something from what happened with Rogue—”

That hits a nerve. Leigh's quick to fire back, “Oh, and jumping into a serious relationship is super responsible, right? Especially when staying sober is part of the deal.”

Right after the words leave her mouth, Leigh regrets them deeply. She's painfully aware of Jules' long battle with alcoholism, a struggle that began in college and required more than a couple of tries before Jules could claim any sort of victory over her addiction. Leigh knows it's still a sore subject for Jules, still fighting her demons, making her comment unfairly harsh.

Though the retaliation didn’t come out of nowhere. Leigh caught Jules at the club, discreetly sipping a drink she swore off, and chose to keep quiet then to avoid causing a scene in front of Tommy. She had plans to bring it up later, but then her own slip-up with drinking, bailing on her date, and the fallout with Jules spiraled into one of their nastiest rows in a long while.

“Jules, I’m sorr—”

“Just save it, Leigh.”

Jules heads for the door, her hand clenched tight, barely hanging onto her emotions. Leigh feels the situation slipping further downhill, and she can't just stand back and watch things crumble even more. She's about to chase after Jules when the doorbell rings, stopping both of them cold.

But Jules doesn’t even bother with the door; instead, she veers off, storming upstairs with that telltale slam of her bedroom door echoing down. Leigh sighs, stuck in the aftermath, while Visitor starts barking at the door. Dragging her feet, Leigh heads over to open it, half-expecting another problem but hoping for a distraction.

Leigh definitely wasn't expecting Danny, and seeing him there, she gets the sinking feeling that this storm swirling around her isn’t going to blow over just yet.