#this came to me while tearing apart my car trying to find my wallet this morning

[peaches2217]

Hear me out. Hear me out hear me out hear me out.

Mario kissing the back of Peach’s hand, as one does when paying respects to a monarch.

Peach waiting until no one’s watching and pressing the exact spot he kissed to her lips, and she swears it’s still warm, and she savors it as long as she can because who knows if she’ll ever get to kiss his lips directly

[sunnyrifle]

GtK ending aftermath (ramblings again)

GinMori brainrot obviously! but hope it's a fun read

⚠️⚠️unedited, also NO ONE in this conversation is a native english speaker (some parts were translated or held in other languages as well)⚠️⚠️

KongMengDo: I want to see something like that

Ginji-san, he said he let Morita go to test him... but in reality, he's been keeping an eye on him the whole time, not always thorough (like when the car showed up just in time to pick Morita up at Kamui)... but on the day Morita announced his retirement he decided to let Morita go… I want to see Ginji in his study, burning surveillance reports on Morita with a lighter and throwing it in the ashtray.

Ginji feels empty after throwing away all the traces of Morita that he has, but he doesn't regret it, until one day he finds Morita's signature on a crumpled receipt in a cupboard at home, and after fiddling with it for a while, he puts it in his wallet. But as time goes by, the letters on the receipt start to fade...

When Ginji has his hands full, Ryohei takes the card out of Ginji's wallet for him, and is about to throw it away when a white piece of paper comes out, but Ginji says, "Leave it be."

"Why? It doesn't have anything written on it..."

"It doesn't matter, keep it."

"Okay..."

And then later on, if something happened to his wallet or something, and he ended up losing the scrap of paper, Ginji would have a rare smile on his face...

On the other hand, after Morita leaves Ginji, he misses him terribly and searches frantically for any trace of him, any remnants of his things, but Morita doesn't have any of Ginji's things.

Morita is devastated. Who were we to each other, Ginji? Did I ever have your heart? We used to share the bed and even lived together, but as soon as I decided to leave, everything scattered like a mirage... I feel like I dreamed a false dream... From the beginning, the dream of becoming “gold” and the idea of having a country were all illusions…

All of those dreams were not for me. I'm...

Morita is shocked to see Ginji with Ryohei... < I want to see this, and I think this is some kind of soap opera....

Akira: aah I really enjoy this taste yes... because actually it was such a short time they spent together, a few years, 3 years at most? if Morita encountered no traces of Ginji when he left Morita to test him, then Mori tried hard to return to his side and achieved some unbelievable heights in the meantime... he spent at least a few weeks just listening in at the restaurants, then came up with elaborate plans... but I bet Morita had times when he asked himself "what if I was just fooled? What if Ginji doesn't care if I even achieve anything? then I'll become a villain for my own sake only"

but now it was Morita who left Ginji by his own decision... I bet it feels like he went out of the fog that was there for at least a few years, and Morita is lost because of the clear view... What would I do if I was only good at navigating the murky waters before?

actually Morita is good at a lot of things, but I want him to think that he was only good at what Ginji praised him for hehehhe at least for the first few years he'd have to relearn how is it to trust your own judgement to navigate civilian life... Kamui trauma on top of it

So of course the more Morita spends time without Ginji the more the underground and the villains' side, the whole night business, feels like a weird dream... the green jacket and suit pants torn in the Kamui accident, maybe he threw those away as well...

So one day I hope Morita would wake up realising he doesn't believe Ginji was an actual person in his life... and get scared by the thought. Morita would try searching for anything that reminds him of the time they spent together, a postcard, a letter, any old photo...

of course there wasn't anything left and by the time Morita is out of breath in the middle of his apartment, he'd have tears in his eyes, after all you can't chase the dream or misty fog after it's long gone

"What was I even doing? All the luxury restaurants and hotels, we drank and ate and spent time together, but we avoided all the important things... now I have no trace of such an important person from my past left" and maybe it'd feel crushing

even if Morita decided long ago to not search for Ginji again, he didn't want to pretend it all didn't happen, he wanted a proof that his heart was broken not without a reason, not because of the dream he had seen, but because of something he actually held in his hands once--

ah, but I know the thing that Ginji left for Morita~ maybe it's cruel but it's true, the only things that will never go away... the scars

because wouldn't it be fun to see Morita realise, in the shower, out of blue, or getting dressed up, that the stripes over his hands and legs, even if they don't hurt at all now, are something left as a proof on his body? ah, did the knife over his heart leave the scar as well? hehehe

I'd want Morita to hazily trace his fingers over the old wounds and try so hard to remember the pain they brought, because it somehow returned the good memories alongside it, that he somehow tried to convince himself that he could still smell roses alongside antiseptic as well...

I would really love to see Morita struggling, not only to live by himself, but bringing this into new relationships too... if Morita were to have a one night stand or even date someone, wouldn't he be weird about it? sitting down at the edge of the bed after the night, smoking and tracing his scars, thinking of a person long gone from his life?

I would really like to see Morita change his cigarette brand to Ginji's after a while hehehe... chasing a dream so distant you forget if maybe you created that dream by yourself in the first place... ah I want Morita to feel heartbroken sometimes on the worst days he has;;

KongMengDo: Oh, right... Morita has marks left from Gin-san on his body that he can never lose! I forgot about that for a moment haha Even if there comes a moment when the time he spent with Gin-san feels like a dream, the deep scars will remain on Morita to remind him that it was never a dream.

Ah, this is so good! The traces of Morita left for  Ginji will be easy to fade, but the traces of Gin-san left on Morita will never be erased. I think this contrast is really good!!!

Akira: Actually, I like that Morita wasn't depicted with scars not even once, because then we can deduce Morita left empty-handed “dry from the water” into civilian life... but that's not true, he went through at least two massacres, he has bullet wounds and cuts...

poor Morita who was avoiding his scars when he just got them, because they brought unwanted thoughts to him when they were fresh, now were his only treasure

KongMengDo: ahhh... A relationship that can only be remembered with hurt and pain... it's so cruel and so good...

Akira: and then Ryouhei! oh I would like to see Morita jealous or angry... I'd be a nice parallel if he'd see Ginji with Ryouhei on the horse races, freeze in his place and lose Ginji in the crowd, but when Morita comes to his senses, he's so angry?

I want to see him throwing things on the ground again, stomping, but now cursing not the betting tickets, but Ginji he just saw. Because even if it's naive, wouldn't Morita hope Ginji was left as heartbroken as him? I bet Morita, who didn't move on, would wish for Ginji to never move on too

KongMengDo: It's really nice to imagine Morita being jealous of Ryouhei. It's especially good that Morita doesn't actually realise that Ryouhei is a mere tool to Gin-san. When Ginji realises that Morita is misunderstanding their relationship, will he try to explain it to him? That Morita is more important to him than Ryouhei? Probably not, because he's honouring what Morita said when he was leaving... I don't think he'll make Morita regret leaving him

Akira: Gin-san is so generous ㅋㅋㅋㅋ

ah but I like the scenario of Morita calling out Ginji's name by an accident... I like that he'd see Ginji, call for him, and see him turn head, but his hand is draped over the shoulder of some other young man... aah I bet Morita would be furious

maybe they'll agree to a short cafe break together somewhere nearby... maybe Morita had a lot to say to Ginji before, but now his thoughts are scattered... and Ginji would look so nonchalant, smoking before the cup of coffee, not raising any questions and starting a talk- it was so unhelpful to Morita, he only started to assume that Ginji sat there in front of him because Morita asked to, because Ginji just indulges him with a favour - not because he wants to have a short conversation with Morita after such a long time of course...

when actually Ginji would be smoking nervously hahaha I want Ginji to be so out of place, he'd try harder to appear casual, maybe leaning off the table, elbow on the chair back, cigarette between his fingers that cover his mouth- everything, but looking at the Morita... so he'd miss Morita glaring at him in fury in return hahaha

ah would be cruel if Morita's first question after years of separation will be "Who is this guy?"

I want Ginji to be taken aback by the voice but also not miss the anger in Morita’s voice-- and I want Ginji to snicker and finally see Morita's expression... and smile, because he really missed Morita, and now he was graced with such a rare view? Morita was rare to be jealous before and now he's changed but he's still the same in some ways too

I actually want them to bicker haha I want Ginji to play himself over and nudge Morita with vague answers about Ryouhei, so Morita would have no choice, he won’t remember anything he actually wanted to say to Ginji when they just met... and then they'll separate on such a bad note? hehe, I want them both to regret their decisions during the small meeting... I want them both to make incorrect conclusions about each other too...

"Ginji just used me, he doesn't care about me, maybe he never did"

"Morita is as naive as ever, no wonder he retired so soon"

But after that the anger and frustration will disappear slowly... they'd both be stuck with realisation they are just fooling themselves with short lived emotions... and the precious time they had together in that small cafe... they wasted it. Like they wasted a lot of the time they had together before, doing so many things and visiting so many places, but avoiding the most important things right until the end... not confronting their own feelings about each other... and now they did that again. Maybe it'll bring the smallest smiles to them to think about the irony of that... and maybe hope their next short meeting in the crowd would not be so embarrassing as if they're the divorced old couple haha-- I hope they'll at least do a good handshake next time and smile at each other heh

Morita's blood boiling because of Ryouhei presence is amazing... ah but maybe even if he'd think to accept Ryouhei being at Ginji's side, he'd still be bitter and ignore the guy hehhe

[gegewrites]

mr.whites daughter Chapter 5- back at home

Your pov

I woke up in a bed, my jacket was on the pillow next to me and I could hear a TV. I knew I wasn't at my apartment, or really where I was for that fact. I sat up and rubbed my eyes, looking at my fingers, no mascara. The sun was shining gold into the yellow room, meaning it's been a few hours, at least more then three or even five hours.  I put my head in my hands as it felt like I just woke up from a rave. Then things started clicking.

I was in jesses apartment.

I was drugged.

"Fuckin A." I whispered.

"Hey." I heard a girl say, I looked over my shoulder and saw a girl with black hair and bangs standing in the door way,"I took of your mascara, hope that was okay, it's I know how annoying it is to wake up with it after it's wet."

"Ya, no, thanks."  I Rolled my neck and cracked each side and  grabbed my boots and put them on.

"I don't think you should leave (y/n)."

"I'm sorry who are you?" I stood up grabbing my jacket.

"I'm Jane, live next door." She rested on the door frame.

"Oh ya, your we're over the other night when I came by." I put my jacket on checking that I had my cellphone, my wallet and keys were in my car, which I think badger got?

"Ya." She nodded.

"I'm gonna-"

"Jesses worried about you, you know that right?" Look she seemed nice but I didn't want this right now.

"What time is it?" I asked trying to divert the conversation.

"7." She said and I nodded,"he's worried (y/n)."

"I bet he is." I scoffed.

"No he really is. He sat there waiting for you to wake up for two hours." She crossed her arms,"look, I've been we're you are, I'm 18 months sober."

"I was a year and I fucked that up." I let out a slight chuckle.

"Doesn't mean you can't go back."

"I quit with the NA shit a while ago." I walked towards her,"I gotta go."

"I saw the marks on your arm."

"Not my problem." I shook my head.

"Jesse is crazy over you."

"He's dating you now isn't he?" I raised my brow.

"Doesn't change how he feels about you." She shook her head and I slipped past her,"he calls you his soulmate, his best friend." She grabbed my shoulder and I winced.

"He also called me a worthless junkie whore that people like to pass around." I turned to face her, she was a bit taller then me and I heard the front door open,"I personally couldn't care less, because that's exactly what I am and he showed me that. If you'll excuse me, I have to get a ride to my apartment."

"Good thing ur dads outside right now then huh?" I heard Jesse say behind me. I turned around and he was leaning on the door, I could see my dad in perfect view from where I was,"I called him, I told him."

"Fuck you jesse." I walked towards him,"Fuck you."

"You'll thank me later, you know it."  I simply shook my head at him. I walked past him, bumping into him with my shoulder.

I walked down the stairs as my dad walked towards me. I tried to walk past him but he hugged me before I could dodge him. I bit my lip as I stood still in his grasp, I wanted to cry. I really Fuckin did.

"Get clean yo!" Jesse yelled,"please!"

I heard his door close and I grabbed onto my dad and broke down.

"I want you to come home." He whispered as i hugged him back,"your mom is worried sick."

I pushed him off.

"You told mom?!" I backed away from him.

"I had to, she was right there listening to the voice mail Jesse left, it was after everyone left." He held onto my shoulder,"I'm your father, I'm not gonna let you do this to urself."

"I swear to god." I shook my head,"if hank find out-"

"We arent going to let that happen. We've already agreed on it, we don't want his DEA shit getting involved. This is a household secret, your brother doesn't even know yet." I wiped my face if the tears,"I went to your apartment and I threw it all away."

"You're telling me, my mother, knows I'm smoking meth?"

"Your mother knows your snorting Coke and you were drugged. I answered the phone before Jesse could mention meth. So no she doesn't know about that...but I know about the herion. Get in the car, we're getting you clothes , and you're coming home." I nodded, giving up. I looked back to jesses apartment and saw him through the window, Jane behind him. He nodded and I shook my head and nudged my dad off and walked around to the passenger side of the car and got in.

Next morning-

I woke up the next morning on the couch. Feeling a hand on my shoulder and fingers running through my hair.

"Sweetheart?" I heard my mom,"hey."

"Hi." I whispered wrapping my arm under the pillow.

"I got you some coffee."  I opened my eyes and sat up, she was dressed for work, had to be early,"I have to go to work, but it dad is gonna be home and so is junior if he doesn't go to Louis's."

"Okay." I rubbed my face and she pulled me into a hug and I hugged her back.

"Call me if you need anything, okay?  I don't think Ted will mind me stepping out for a bit."

"Mom, don't jeopardize your job for me please." I muttered.

"I will jeopardize anything and everything for you." SHe pulled away to look at me,"I mean it."

"I know." I nodded and she kissed my forehead. She stood up and gave me a goodbye as she walked out. I laid back down and my phone rang, I could already feel the withdrawals. A familiar feeling of a slight shaking and a rising  headache. I sluggishly opened my phone and put it to my ear.

"How you feelin?" I heard Jesse, his freshly woken up voice ringing into my ear.

"I just woke up."

"Makes two of us."

"Your girl over?" I forced myself to sit up.

"No, um...ya."

"Cause of me?" I grabbed the cup of coffee and I heard a saw ring out through the house confused as to where it was coming from.

"Nah, when you called something happened with her dad and shit, and then a conversation about why she acted like she didn't know me and shit when you can and after so she left." I nodded and hummed,"is that a saw?"

"I don't even know." I took a sip of coffee.

"You need anything?"

"No, I'll be fine." I shook my head.

"Yo if you need anythin, well not just anythin, I can bring it to ya on the DL. Make sure I don't see-" I cut him off.

"My mom knows I was dating you, cats out of the bag. I'll call you later."

"Aight, call you later." With that I hung up and got off the couch, swaying slightly. I walked past the kitchen and to where the noise was coming from. The utility closet.

"What are you doing?" I bent down slightly. The saw stopped and my dads head popped out of the hole in the floor.

"We have rot." He stated.

"Fuckin great." I muttered and I went to walk out and he spoke.

"How you feelin?"

"Be better if I was at my quiet apartment, alone." I looked down the hole.

"Can't know you won't use if you're there." I rubbed my face dragging my hand to my neck.

"Can I take a shower?"

"Yeah." He nodded  and I walked away, the saw rang through my ears once more and I groaned in annoyance.

After my shower, I got dressed in the bathroom, they had my bags in holly's nursery. I walked out of the bathroom and saw my brother leaning on the wall.

"It's free now." I said and he smiled.

"You okay?" He asked and I nodded.

"I'm fine. I heard you got took 3 shots of tequila the other day." I smiled, as I walked down the hall. He followed behind me.

"Ya." He laughed,"got sick right after."

"That happens, don't worry about it." I shook my head  and made it back to the couch.

"What-what happened yesterday?" He sat down in the chair, moving his crusted to lean on the arm of it.

"I made a mistake."  I stated,"and ya."

"Oh." He nodded,"mom and dad we-were worried."

"I bet they were." I looked at him,"you going to Louiss?"

"Ya later." He nodded and I smiled.

"Have long have you guys been friends again?"

"A few years." He smiled.

We ended up watching TV. I fell Asleep at some point during the show. I was woken up by my phone ringing so I answered it.

"Combos been shot." I heard Jesse.

"What?"

"He's dead. Was fuckin shot. I can't reach your dad for shit  right now." I could hear his voice shaking. I got up off the couch.

"Dad!" I yelled walking back to the utility closet quickly,"dad! He ain't here man."

"We'll where do you think he is?!" He yelled.

"Jesus Christ don't yell. I don't know, I'll try calling him." I hung up and walked out of the utility closet and got to his contact, as I dialed it, I felt that wave of dizziness hit me like a freight truck from behind. I rushed into the bathroom.

I opened my eyes, facing the bathtub. I went to sit up and laid back down as my Body felt like snd ice cube, sending a dizzing chill down my spine. I felt my forearm was wet so I opened my eyes and saw blood. A small pool around it. My eyes drifted to the toilet above me and I saw red on it as well. I hit the toilet when I passed out, right on my gash, opening it again. I just laid on the floor and groaned swallowing hard and breathing deeply. My body shakes and I felt like I was sweating. My body first and i let out a whimper. I hugged my knees into my chest.

I felt myself zone back into unconsciousness and then back in.

"(y/n)?" Someone shook me,"sweetheart wake up, come on."

"Mmm." I groaned as the shaking continued.

"Honey you're bleeding." It was my mom,"Walter!"

"Coming!" I heard my dad yell.

"Leave me alone." I whispered.

"Im not doing that." I felt a towel rub against my arm, and then my arm was lifted.

"(y/n)?" I heard my dad speak.

"Should we call 9/11? We should." My moms panicked voice rang into my ears, and I groaned.

"No no, it's fine, it just the withdrawal." I felt a pair of hands grab under my waist and pull me up. I leaned against my fathers frame and felt a towel wipe my cheek and around my temple.

"She Could be concussed."

"No." I shook my head,"don't call."

"(y/n)." My mom whispered.

"I'll get her to the couch." My dad answered. I felt him stand up and I held onto him the best I could as he made me stand up. My legs felt weak as he walked me out of the bathroom,"you got it."

I few seconds later I hit the couch, curling into myself as I felt a blanket cover me.

The next day I was sitting in sauls office. Jesse was smoking a cigarette and tapping the ash into the justice scale on the table by the door.

"So who's this? We haven't met." Saul looked at me.

"I'm only here because one of our guys, for shot and killed." I shrugged.

"So who are you?" He put his mug in the table.

"I'm (y/n)." I crossed my arms, leaning back into the sofa.

"Alright then."

"Look, one of our guys, combo got murdered for selling at the wrong corner." Jesse said.

"The one you put him on." My dad said.

"You're the one who said to expand!" Jesse argued and I rolled my eyes.

"Woah woah, do I look like Muary povich to you guys? Here's your problem, you guys can't peddle meth for shit." Saul and and I laughed.

"They can't."

"And you can?" Saul asked and I scoffed.

"I can sell a pound for 65 grand in a night, I can peddle." I nodded.

"Here's what you guys need, you need a bigger distributor." Saul said and my dad shook his head.

"No, no we're not messing with another distributor." I glanced at my dad.

"Not some speed freak, you need an honest to God buisness man, someone who's been doing this for 20 years, and hasn't been caught. Only deals on bulk and ships almost everywhere." Saul pointed at us,"I'll make some calls, and you guys will go and meet him."

"Can they just do it?" I pointed to my dad and Jesse.

"Ya, I don't see why not, unless they're gonna say something stupid." Saul shrugged and I stood up.

"Good, then I'm leaving." I walked past my dad and around sauls chair.

"You're leaving?" Jesse asked.

"Yes I'm leaving, you two can keep me in the loop." I grabbed my keys off the table.

"Do you really wanna work with them?" Saul asked and cocked my head at him.

"Yes, and They'll keep me in the loop for the time being, cause if they don't, I'll be holding a gun to each of their heads." I smiled,"and maybe to yours."

"You're the muscle arent you?" Saul grinned.

"What?" I raised my brow at him.

"For a hefty bruise and cut right there." He pointed to his temple.

"I passed out and slammed my head on a toilet, I got pistol whipped by Tuco Salamanca."

"Cause you fought back huh? Makes you the muscle." He crossed his arms.

"I'm leaving, I'll you see at home." I spoke to my dad as I opened the door and walked out.

[kpop---scenarios]

Revenge Is A Bitch (1)

Pairing: Nichkhun x Reader | Jaehyun x Reader

Warning: Eventual smut, cheating, angst

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: Surprise! It's now a series. Let me know if you wanna be tagged!

Summary: You're life with Nichkhun was amazing, until you went to visit him on a business trip, where you meet Jaehyun, a friend and coworker of your boyfriend. Things escalate quickly from a little flirting in a club, but things get even worse when Nichkhun finds out. "

Y/N." Nichkhun growls. "Give it back." He says, trying his best not to smile. You stand on the other side of the couch, his phone in your hand as you stick your tongue out at him. 

"You want it back?" You ask.

He nods his head. 

"Then come get it." You yell, laughing as he charges for you, bursting out into laughter as well. Sometimes you were needy, especially when you felt like he was paying more attention to his phone than you. You giggle and scream as you run around the couch, Wooyoung sitting on the couch watching the two of you in disgust. Nichkhun grabs you, pulling you into him, peppering your face in kisses. You stop fighting him and he sets you down as you both continue laughing. You give him back his phone and he slides it into his pocket before tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. 

"I love you, beautiful." He whispers. 

"And I love you." You grin, placing a kiss on his lips. 

"And I'm gonna be sick." Wooyoung groans, leaving the living room as the two of you laugh at his annoyance and disgust of your love. It had been two years of just pure bliss and happiness with Nichkhun, something you never thought you'd ever find, until you found him. 

A few hours later, you were sitting on the edge of the bed with your arms crossed as you watched Nichkhun pack a bag. As usual, a last minute business meeting came up, and he was taking off for a week. 

"Babe, where's my blue suit? The one with the stripes.. yanno?" He yells from inside the closet. As much as you didn't want to help him, you begrudgingly stood up, shuffling towards the closet to help him find the suit he needed. You roll your eyes as you walk in, and Nichkhun is on one knee, holding a ring pop, making you laugh. "I'm sorry I have to leave my love, but with this ring, I hope you remember that I love you, and I can't wait to come back to you and marry you one day." He grins. 

He always knew how to make you feel better and put a smile on your face. Some days you swore he knew you better than you knew yourself. You take the ring and stick it on your finger as he stands up. 

"Now, I actually do need my suit." He laughs. 

"You mean the one that's hanging right in front of you?" You giggle, taking it off the rack and handing it to him. 

"My savior." He grins, putting it carefully in his bag. 

"Toothbrush?" You ask him, beginning to list off the items he needs. 

"Yes!" He exclaims. 

"Underwear? Socks? Passport? Wallet? Casual clothes?" You ask. 

"Check, check, check.. where's my passport?" He asks worriedly. Despite only going to a different city, he still needed it. 

"Nightstand, left hand side." You sigh. He quickly leaves the closet, going to his nightstand as you zip up his bag, bringing it into the bedroom. 

"Like I said, my savior." He grins. 

"I'll call you when I land." He says before answering his ringing phone. "I'll be right down." 

He gives you a quick peck before heading through your lavish apartment, with you following behind him, watching him walk out the front door, leaving you alone. 

It had been a few days and you still hadn't heard from Nichkhun. This really wasn't unusual for him, considering he got very busy with work but he hadn't even sent you a goodnight text in the last 3 days, and that made you really sad. So you decided to do something about it. With a plan in your head you went to sleep, knowing you had an early morning ahead of you. 

When you woke up, you booked your last minute ticket, and began packing your bags. You felt a frisson of excitement skate across your nerve endings as you zipped up your bags and waited for your ride to the airport. You very rarely, well actually never had surprised Nichkhun, but this time it felt right. It felt like it was going to be a wonderful surprise. 

After a smooth flight, you caught a cab, and told him to go to the hotel Nichkhun was at. You felt like nothing could go wrong, this was the perfect plan, with a perfect execution. You paid the nice cab driver, who also took your bags from his car for you and you went into the lobby to wait for Nichkhun. You called his phone a few times, but he didn't pick up. You look around the fancy hotel and observe a couple who seemed to not be able to keep their hands off each other. You loved that for them. You smiled to yourself, imagining you and Nichkhun being that publicly annoying. You wished you could show your love and passion the way they were. The way they touched each other, it spoke of passion and need and familiarity. 

You looked at your phone that has now gone to voicemail six times, you glance up once more and see the faces of the couple that enter the elevator with tears in your eyes. 

**

“Welcome to Club Arriba! What can I get you to drink?”

"6 shots of your strongest liquor." You yell, slapping the credit card that Nichkhun had given you for emergencies. Clearly this was one, and so was the lavish hotel room, and the room service you had ordered before coming to the club. 

"You got it." The bartender smiles, sliding the cars off the bar. You stand there waiting for your shots when three girls approach you. 

"I love your dress." One giggles. You hold up your finger, asking for a moment before you quickly, and quite professionally down four of the six shots you had bought. 

"Thank you." You grin. You turn to the bartender and wave him over. "Four more shots for me and my new friends." You yell, taking the last two shots on the counter. 

And like that, you had made friends with some really nice girls, who bought you drinks too. The four of you were dancing, laughing and having a great time when you feel a pair of hands land on your hips. You look behind him and see an extremely handsome man smiling down at you. You don't mind, you enjoy the attention, besides it wasn't like you were getting much these days anyways. You move your body closer to his, swaying your hips to the beat of the music, while smiling at your new friends, who were also dancing with others. As you were getting more into it, you felt a hand wrap around your wrist. You look up and see a man that you absolutely recognize trying to pull you away from the other man that had begun groping you. 

"What are you doing?" You ask. Glaring at the man. You know him.. from.. Nickhun's office. "Jaehyun?" You ask. He looks at you surprised that you remembered his name. He pulls you away from the man, through the crowd to a secluded hallway. He swings you around, pushing you against the wall as he crosses his arms. 

"What the hell are you doing?" He asks. "You're in a relationship with my good friend and my boss." He hisses. 

"Mhm, are you sure you're as good of a friend as you think you are?" You ask, tilting your head to the side. 

"I don't understand what you mean." He sighs. 

Of course he doesn't. No one knows, you didn't even know until this morning. 

"What do you want, Jae? Should I blow you so you don't tell my precious Nichkhun?" You ask, pouting. 

"I would never do that to Nichkhun." He deepens. "I'm going to have to tell him about this." He finishes. 

You shrug your shoulders, pushing yourself off the wall. "Do what you gotta do." You say. “You know what I’ll help you tell him." You say, taking out your phone. Jaehyun stands there, watching you, unsure of what you're doing.  You turn around with snapchat open, and kiss him on the cheek before snapping a picture before he moves away from you.  

"What the fuck are you doing? Do you realize that this looks fucking bad?" He yells.  

"I've seen the way you look at me when I come into the office. Do you want a taste Jae? Would you like to feel me gripping you while inside me? How about how wet and warm it would feel to cum inside me? So good."  You whisper into his ear. 

Jaehyun moves back from you, looking partially offended, and partially turned on from what you said. He doesn't say anything to you, he just walks away, and you watch him disappear into the crowd. You adjust your dress and throw your shoulders back and walk back to your new friends. 

As you continue to dance, you can feel eyes on you, raking your body up and down. You look around and see Jaehyun leaning against the bar, his arms crossed as he watches you. The way your hands roam your body, the way you lick your lips as you watch him. You can feel his guard being let down as he begins to inch closer to you. The rush of victory flows through your body as he walks towards you. 

"Let me take you home." He says, offering his hand to you. He slides Nichkhun's credit card back in your purse and he weaves the two of you out of the club. 

"Are you trying to get in my panties, Jaehyun?" You ask, looking at the handsome man. 

"I'm just taking you home." He says. 

The two of you are standing outside your hotel room as you put your key in and open the door to your large suite. 

"Don't tell Nichkhun I'm here." You say, walking inside, Jaehyun following you. 

"Let's just get you to bed." He sighs. 

You stand in front of him, pulling your dress off, dropping it on the floor. You're almost naked, in front of your boyfriend's good friend, feeling nothing but lust and attraction for this man. 

Jaehyun takes a deep breath. "Fuck it." He whispers, crashing his lips onto yours, pushing you onto the bed. Your fun starts now, and soon Nichkhun will know that revenge is a bitch. 

[the-only-ace]

Hey I know you are really busy with all the request and job and all that but can you do shinee's reaction to s/o stealing their t-shirts and hoodies?? You can make them one shots of you want too😁

shinee reacts: their s/o wearing their clothes

heyyy~ i really liked this request because i personally love to do this. for this request, i want to try something new since you gave me an idea with the one-shots part. so instead of describing their reactions, i'll convey it in a form of a short story. it will still be per member! i hope you will like this one (heads up though, the posts is a bit longer than my usual shinee reacts) <3

p.s. if you guys can, kindly let me know if you like this kind of format for shinee reacts. thank you!

send in your requests here!

onew / jinki: you sighed for the nth time within just 10 short minutes. you were staring and pouting in front of your closet for you can't find the perfect clothes for your brunch date with onew. it was a hot day today and you just wanted to wear something cute but comfortable. however, it seems like your wardrobe doesn't offer that kind of outfit.

your eyes slowly traveled toward onew's part of the closet. his side was full of quirky graphic tees which you always find adorable. you don't usually borrow his clothes but you can't help but to take a peek at them and take the one that caught your eyes.

it was a white oversized shirt with a cute box cartoon drawn in front of it. you tried it on and it stopped perfectly on your thighs, making it look like a cute dress. surprisingly, it even matches the pair of sneakers you were wearing.

before you can even decide whether you were keeping it on or not, onew walked into your room. his hair a bit damp and he was only wearing a towel considering that he just took a shower.

"oh, is that my shirt?" he pointed at you.

"uh... yeah. do you mind? i just wanted to wear something that is yours." you sheepishly replied.

"no problem!" he beamed his big bright smile before proceeding to get his own outfit.

you muttered a thank you then went to your vanity to finish touching up your makeup. afterward, you grabbed your phone and wallet and placed them inside your shoulder bag.

"alright, I'm ready to go..." you trailed off as you saw what he looked like. "what the hell are you wearing, lee jinki?"

"your shirt?" he raised an eyebrow, clearly feigning ignorance.

he was wearing your favorite grey t-shirt and it looked pitiful on him, it was as if it can tear at any moment. it barely covered his abdomen and was stretched to its limit.

"no shit, sherlock." you facepalmed at his usual weirdness. "what i want to know is why... why are you wearing it?"

"i thought we were doing a thing wherein we wear each other's clothes." he shrugged as if his response should be expected.

"what? no! please have mercy on my shirt and put on your own clothes." you can't help but laugh at him as you pushed him back to the dresser.

"alright, alright! i just wanted to make you laugh and look, it worked perfectly." he playfully pinched the tip of your nose before taking off the top he borrowed. "also, you should keep that shirt since it looks a hundred--no, million--times better on you."

"thanks, love," you whispered as you wrapped your arms around his waist and pulled him into a warm hug.

key / kibum:

after the long busy months, you were finally having a girl's night with your best friends. you stood in front of the full-length mirror in your room to give yourself a final check. your hair was styled into textured waves and your lips were colored with the boldest red lipstick you can find. your nude heels matched the little black dress you were wearing. your outfit looked almost perfect and you just knew what you were missing. you quickly snatched key's gold leather jacket and put it on. ah, perfection.

this was the norm for you. your boyfriend's wardrobe was beyond incredible especially his outerwear collection and you just had to wear them every chance you can get. to be honest, key was very stubborn in letting you borrow his clothes... at first. after all the compromising, begging, and crying you made, he eventually budged and gave up. of course, it does not come for free. he practically made you sign a contract that once you stained his clothes, you have to shoulder the bill of the laundry and the shop will be chosen by him. however, if you damaged or god forbid, lost his clothes, you have to replace them. you immediately said yes to all of the conditions in a heartbeat. so far you only paid for 2 incredulously expensive laundry bills.

now, you were finally ready to leave. you walked out of the bedroom and made your way down the living room. there, key was sitting on the couch watching one of his favorite tv series.

"I'll be going out now," you announced as you grab your car keys near the front door.

"hey, hey, hey!" key clicked his tongue upon seeing your clothes. he was now looking behind his shoulder and giving you a stink eye. "is that my jacket?"

"um... maybe?" you gave him an awkward smile.

"of course, it's mine." he shook his head disapprovingly. "only i can pull that off, by the way." he sassily added.

"wow, i didn't know the fashion police was here. you should have given me a head's up, babe ." you bit back with a scoff. the last time you checked, you looked damn fine in it.

"just stating facts, baby," he replied in english.

"alright, then why don't you take me shopping then? so you can buy me a new set of clothes that will satisfy your standards." you challenged and if he said yes, you were clearly the winner.

"excuse me, i do call you 'baby' but i am not your sugar daddy. go now, you'll be late." he shooed you off.

"okay bye," a playful smirk appeared on your face. "daddy."

this made key rolled his eyes before turning his back on you. he would very much rather ignore you if you keep on acting that way.

"it's bye now, for real." you giggled as you open the door. "love you!" you called out before stepping out.

"love you too, brat." key mumbled with a small smile.

minho:

winter was approaching and the air was slowly becoming colder than usual. it was the best time to stay in the comfort of your warm home and enjoy hot cocoa with your loved ones. a perfect time to wear your sweaters and hoodies indoors. however, this was not the case for minho for his favorite hoodie was missing.

"hey, babe?" he called out from the bedroom. "have you seen my black hoodie? the one with the white writings on it."

"what's that, i didn't hear you?" you went inside a few seconds later.

and there it was, his favorite hoodie being worn by his favorite person. you looked smaller while wearing it since it was way too big for you. the hem almost touched your knees and your whole arms were lost inside the sleeves. he can't help but smile at the sight.

"nothing, i was just looking for my hoodie but it looks like i found it." he gestured at the clothes you were wearing.

"oh, shoot. sorry, i didn't tell you that i borrowed it." you hit your forehead with your palm.

"it's okay. you're free to use them anytime, anyway." he patted the top of your head.

within the last few weeks, minho noticed that you sometimes wear his clothes. it was not a daily thing though and you even asked for his permission. slowly, it became every day and he would just be surprised to see you walking around the house parading his jackets and sweaters. he didn't mind it though, he was just curious about what you do to your own clothing. also, he hoped that he still had some remaining tops for himself during the cold season.

well, guess luck was not on his side.

his eyes were staring at his closet wherein there was only one jacket left, one. you followed his gaze and you promptly felt the warmth raised to your cheeks. you were surely red from embarrassment now. you were happily wearing his clothes that you didn't have the time to count how much was left.

"oh my god, i'm sorry! i didn't--" you cut yourself off as you watched him put on the lone jacket from his dresser. "i'm sorry, i didn't notice it. i just... can't help myself. your jackets are so comfortable and warm compare to mine." you tried to explain yourself. also not to mention that they all smelled just like him.

"don't worry about it." he reassured you as he placed his arm around your shoulder. "just be mindful next time. i might end up half-naked someday, you know."

"how can you be so sure that's not my goal?" you teased before sticking your tongue out.

he laughed at your silliness and then pressed a soft kiss on your warm forehead. you decided to make a cup of hot cocoa for him as a peace offering.

taemin:

it was past midnight and it was raining cats and dogs outside. you visited taemin in his apartment for a stay-at-home dinner date but a storm came before you can even go back home. taemin then convinced you to spend the night there instead. it was not a big deal anyway since you stayed over a lot of times already. you just didn't bring your sleepover bag with you and the dress you were wearing was definitely not comfortable to sleep on.

your caring boyfriend of course promised to ease your worries. the two of you shared a warm bath after dinner and he lent you his clothes for you to change to. so that was how you ended up on his couch, fighting off sleep because the show you both were watching always had a cliffhanger ending per episode. you two needed some answers before you can drift off to sleep peacefully. it was the weekend tomorrow anyway so staying up late won't hurt that much.

your head was laying on his lap while his right hand was playing on the locks of your hair and his left one was comfortably resting on the top of your hip. his hand would occasionally rub circles on the exposed skin. as much as you hate to move from your cozy spot, you had to or else you might end up dozing off right there and then. not to mention, him playing on your hair does not help at all.

you slowly got up from the sofa as you tried to stifled a yawn. "i'll just go get some cold drink." you pushed yourself up from your seat.

you then raised your arms and stretched with a satisfied groan. your shoulders and back were sore after laying down for more or less 3 hours. you can even hear your joints cracking from stretching out. also, you felt the shirt you were wearing raised up.

taemin's shirts were not overly huge for you whenever you wore them. the hem barely covered your behind and right now you were sure that a tiny portion of your buttcheeks was peeking through the white tee. you weren't conscious about it, taemin saw much more than that anyway.

suddenly, you felt a slap across your behind which made you freeze on your spot. you looked behind and saw your boyfriend confidently leaning on the couch with his legs crossed.

"did you just slap my butt?" you inquired.

"uh-huh," he nodded with a cocky grin. "want me to spank you again?"

you frowned a little as you processed the sudden change of mood. taemin won't deny it though, seeing you in his shirts always made his heart skip a bit and his breathing ragged. you always looked effortlessly sexy in them.

"sure, why not?" you replied wickedly after a few seconds of silence.

taemin processed your answer in a split second and he hastily grabbed you by the waist and threw you on his broad shoulders. he did not forget you give you another smack on the ass when he made his way toward the bedroom, the television was completely forgotten.

[the-witty-pen-name]

Deadbeat Pt. 3

Lee Bodecker x F!Reader

18+ ONLY 

Warnings: age gap (reader is 21), smut, cursing, abandonment, infatuation, cheating/divorce, angst, mild housewife kink, mentions of prostitution, mentions of alcohol, corrupt official 

Word Count: 4.7k

Summary: You work at the bar at the edge of town, the Sheriff is going through a divorce and needs to rent a room.

A/N: I’m terrible at writing summaries and I’m so sorry about that! I don’t think I would consider this a dark!fic, but it does cover a lot of themes, and topics that are darker than I usually write about- but I think that comes with the territory of writing about Lee Bodecker. I’ll make sure to update the warnings for each chapter and do not read if you are underage. I also ignored canon for this one.

This is unedited, and I missed anything I should include as a warning let me know! This chapter introduces some new plots and conflicts, so it jumps around a little more than the previous ones. 

I hope you all enjoy!

I also am having some writer’s block with my Obi-Wan Kenobi miniseries I was working on, so expect Part 3 sometime Sunday hopefully! So sorry for the delay on the final chapter. 

Tags and Requests are OPEN 

Part One // Part Two 

Henry Curtis was one of the most infuriating people Lee had ever met. Curtis was a writer for the Columbus newspaper and constantly pestering the Sheriff. Curtis seemed to have a sixth sense for whenever the Sheriff did anything. He was desperately trying to catch the Sheriff doing anything but so far had remained unsuccessful. Curtis was the biggest obstacle Lee faced in winning re-election. The man would show up out of nowhere, pen and pad in hand ready to find anything that would be enough to keep the Sheriff out of office.

Maybe Curtis was just doing his job, but Lee always felt like it was much more personal. It was probably just his own resentment of the man who was just doing his job. But the man didn’t have to be so goddamn invasive. When the Sheriff had devised his plan on offering to rent a room from you, he was so tied up in his own mess of divorce and his somewhat confusing feelings towards you he had completely forgotten about the press. They would have a field day with the divorce alone, but now on top of everything else, Lee knew he should be more careful.

Lee always had to be careful, especially if he was meeting Leroy Brown. Lee would make sure he drove way out of town, and always insisted they met at a different location every time. This would infuriate Brown but Lee was the only lawman he had working for him. Sometimes Lee would drive several hours out of the way, always at some deserted ghost town or some sad excuse for a diner or a bar. Always somewhere no one would recognize him.

Lee lied to you and told you he and a few of the deputies would need to drive out of town for a stakeout when he needed to meet with Brown. It was one of those nights, sitting in the cruiser with the headlights off, as he parked in an abandoned parking lot almost two hours out of town.

He had been able to put this off for a couple weeks, lying about other legitimate jobs getting in the way. Honestly, it was because he wanted to one, avoid anything that would cause suspicion from Henry Curtis hearing he was back in town and two, he was selfishly allowing himself to just spend his nights at his new home, spending all the time he could manage with you. It was like being in that little white house was a place where he could let himself be delusional, and time spent with you was what his life actually was, not this mess he was currently dealing with. He wanted out.

Lee knew he wasn’t a good man. He knew that his laundry list of offenses had tarnished his badge a long time ago. He knew what he was doing, and before he never cared. Now, he’s thinking about how his actions could affect you. You were innocent, unaware of everything he was stuck in. He knew you weren’t stupid, and he was sure the town knows some about his corruption. But now, he couldn’t rationalize away his actions for any reason when it came to you. Janie? She didn’t care and would encourage it. She’d be in on it too. She’d have no problem lying to ladies at Church or starting other rumors to keep the town talking about anyone but Lee. She was as power hungry as he was sometimes, which could be a testament as to how their loveless marriage held together for so long.

***

“Hi, I’m looking for a Ms. (Y/L/N)?” the man asked when he approached you, talking a seat at one of the barstools.

“Who’s asking for her?” you asked raising an eyebrow.

“I’m Henry Curtis, I work for the Columbus Dispatch.”

“The newspaper?”

“That’s the one.”

“Why are you looking for her?”

“I’m doing a story on her mother’s marriage to Harvey Tucker.”

“She’s not here tonight. But I can let her know you were here. Do you got a card?”

The man pulled out a business card from his wallet and slide it across the bar. You picked it up and read all the information before putting it in the pocket of your apron.

“Seems weird for the Columbus paper to want to do a story on that a month and a half after it happened,” you said skeptically.

“We did cover the story when it happened,” Curtis informed you. “Doing a follow up since the story broke about his wife missing.”

“Missing?” you ask. “Do they know what happened?”

“Robbed the bastard blind and then ran apparently,” Curtis said casually looking past you at the chalkboard on the wall. “Scotch, neat.”

“Yes, sir,” you reply, grabbing the bottle from the shelf. “Has anything else been found out yet?”

“Not yet, that’s why I’m here. Checking in to see if she’d come back here because I heard Ms. (Y/L/N) still lives around these parts.” He then pulled a newspaper out of the inside pocket of his coat and started flipping through the pages.

“She has another kid too, right?” you asked, playing dumb. “A boy, I think. Do you know where he is?”

“Couldn’t say,” he sounded very indifferent, “Most likely went with her but who knows? I went to the Sheriff’s office to see if they knew anything but the Sheriff wasn’t there.”

“That’s too bad,” you say. “I’m sure Sheriff Bodecker would help you help if he can.”

Your statement made Mr. Curtis chuckle, but you didn’t follow up on it. You were just focusing on getting as much information about your mother and brother as you could.

“Speaking of Mr. Bodecker,” he began, “I recently saw his wife is getting remarried. Saw the announcement of the engagement in the paper.”

“Yeah, that’s right,” you respond, skeptically. You didn’t know why but you didn’t trust this man. It was something in the tone of his voice, or maybe it was just how he held himself. Very polished, a suit and a nice dress jacket. He looked very out of place in this town, and this little bar.

“You familiar with the Sheriff at all, miss?”

“Not too well,” you shrug, “Haven’t had any run-ins with the law myself.”

“Not even a speeding ticket?” He asks, only a little condescendingly.

“Can’t get a speeding ticket if you don’t have a car,” you point out.

“Touché,” he chuckles before taking a sip of his drink.

He doesn’t ask you anymore questions, and when he leaves, he gives you a five-dollar tip.

***

Lee receives his cut from Brown. There was nothing new to report on that front and his meeting went by smoothly. All Lee had to do was to turn a blind eye, and make sure the rest of the department stays unaware of the brothel’s existence. Brown always insisted on meeting with him, wanting to know what the Sheriff’s department was investigating and making sure his businesses stayed under the radar. He felt sick, and is preoccupied with the fact he has an envelope of dirty money in the cruiser’s glovebox.

It’s around midnight when he pulls up to the house. He expects that you’re already asleep, but he notices the lamp is on in the living room. He takes the money out of his glovebox and tucks it away into the inner pocket of his jacket. Coming inside, he finds you on the couch, knees pulled to your chest, staring at the business card Mr. Curtis had given you. You face is stained with dried up tears, and you still haven’t even changed out of your work clothes.

“What’s that?” he asks, the sight of you breaking his heart. He winces because he comes off a lot harsher than he meant.

“Some reporter came while I was at work wanting to talk to me,” you explain softly, you sound exhausted. “Wanted to talk to me cause he’s doing a story on my mother. Apparently, she’s on the run from the Columbus police.”

You extend your hand to give Lee the card. He feels his jaw clench when he reads the information. “What happened?” he asks, taking a deep breath and sitting down next to you.

“I pretended I wasn’t me,” you say, another tear rolling down your cheek. “He came in asking for me so I said I’d pass his card on. I didn’t want to tell him who I was because he didn’t explain why he was looking for me at first. I don’t know- just scared me. I’m more upset about the news itself than him.”

“You did the right thing,” Lee said softly, placing a hand on your shoulder comfortingly. He was angry, but he didn’t show it. It worried him, fucking Curtis snooping around this close to you. It made him feel protective, wanting to shield you from the whole ordeal. He had been on the receiving end of unsolicited attention from the press and he knew how ruthless they were. He knew this wouldn’t be the only time Curtis would try to get in touch with you. He’d find out where you lived, he’d continue to show up while you were working- the whole nine yards. He didn’t want you going through that.

Curtis talking to you also made him incredibly paranoid. It was his two worlds that he desperately wanted to keep apart were colliding. He knew it was impossible, but he so wanted to keep you separated from the other part of his life. It wasn’t who he wanted you to see. Hell, he hasn’t even been here for a month. It wasn’t that he wanted to keep you in the dark, at least that wasn’t entirely intentional. Actually, he wasn’t sure, maybe it was intentional. However, it wasn’t just you he wanted to hide aspects of his life from. He wanted his involvement with Brown and others hidden from every goddamn registered voter. You were no different, he tried to rationalize. But that wasn��t true. These feelings he harbored for you, were getting worse. He needed to unwrap himself from this situation, and for the sake of you finding out he was a shill, keep you away from that asshole. He didn’t want to let himself think about how the way you look at him would change.

And here he was, making the situation all about him. It was in his nature.

“He’s just going to show up again if I don’t call him,” you say, wiping your eyes. “Maybe I should just call him in the morning. Just be honest and say I don’t know anything. He can keep coming around but nothing is going to change.”

“I can take care of it,” he says. He couldn’t risk you talking to Curtis again. For all he knows, Curtis would tell you all about the story on the Sheriff he’d been trying to confirm for years. Lee knew he couldn’t let that happen. He fully intends on telling you, but how the hell do you bring that up? ‘Hey doll, I’m also on the payroll of every pimp and bootlegger in a ten-mile radius, just letting you know.’ It wasn’t going to come up, unless Curtis tells you about it. He’d be hoping to pull himself out if it, show you how you made him want to be better.

For now, he settles for comforting you, and just being there to take care of you. Make you feel better. He wraps an arm around your shoulder and lets you cry into his chest. He sighs, kissing the top of your head in a friendly way and you curl up against him. Under different circumstances, you probably wouldn’t have let yourself do this- show your vulnerability or allow anyone to comfort you like this. But it was all the events of the past month, your mother leaving, everything, just all hitting you at once, and you were happy you weren’t alone.

In the morning, you wake up on the couch with a blanket over you. You see Lee asleep in the chair, and you realize he stayed with you all night. It makes your heart flutter. You pull the blanket up over your chin and close your eyes again. You felt surprisingly well rested. The stress and worry were pushed to the back of your mind long enough to let you get some sleep. It still lingered in the back of your mind, but you reminded yourself that for now, there was nothing you could do. You had the day off, and you let yourself have a little longer time to sleep in.

You woke up to the smell of coffee brewing and the sound of sizzling on the stove. When you opened your eyes, Lee was no longer in the chair. You sat up and looked toward the kitchen, where you saw Lee with his back to you while he worked with the pans on top of the stove. The portable radio was positioned on the counter, and it was playing at a low volume, so it wouldn’t wake you up.

“Hey,” you say softly, still waking up as you walk into the kitchen.

“Morning, doll,” he says, glancing back at you for a moment. “How’re you feeling?”

“A little better,” you admit, grabbing a mug for yourself out of the cabinet. You pour yourself a cup of coffee, savoring the smell before making it how you usually take it. “Thank you for sitting with me,” you say honestly, “you didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to,” he says with a small grin. “I just wanted to help.”

“I really appreciate it, Lee,” you reiterate your thanks, hopping up to take a seat on the counter, watching him cook breakfast. “Didn’t know you knew how to cook,” you joke, making him chuckle.

“I’m full of surprises, sweetheart,” he smirks, making you feel flushed. You take another drawn out sip of your coffee to try to distract yourself. You watch his arms, and his hands as they maneuver and flex when he cooks. You imagine how they must feel, your eyes focused on the veins. You bit your lip and it reminds you of the dream you had a little while back when he first moved in. You imagine him stepping in between your legs as your propped up on the counter, his hands gently gripping your thighs and-

“I’ll get it,” you announce hurriedly as you hear someone knock on the front door. You hop off the counter careful to not spill your coffee, and head to answer the door. Lee watches you bounce out of the room, fixing your hair as you go and you don’t catch his smile.

“Arvin,” you say surprised, stepping out onto the porch. “What are you doing here?” you ask, with a small grin. You’re confused but nonetheless happy to see him.

“You look like you’ve been crying,” he observes, concern written all over his face.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you say dismissively, “Just last night I was thinking about my ma and everything. Just had trouble sleeping is all.”

“The Sheriff didn’t do anything?” Arvin asked in a hushed tone, looking over your shoulder to see if Lee could hear you two.

“No, nothing, he’s been perfectly fine,” you say coming to the Sheriff’s defense. “I know you and Ms. Russell are worried, I know how it must look- but Arvin I swear he’s just my tenant. He’s been nothing but a gentleman.”

“Just making sure,” he says, letting it go for now. “Lenora asked me to bring these by for you.” He hands you the glass baking dish that you can see is filled with homemade cinnamon rolls. “She’s been practicing making all kinds of baked goods for when the Church does that bake sale and has me running all over town giving it away cause me and Uncle Earskell can’t keep up with it all.”

“Tell her thank you for me,” you say with a smile, “And I’ll bring the dish with me to Church tomorrow- give it back to her.”

“She misses you I think,” Arvin says sheepishly, pushing his hands into his front pockets. “I mean- I do- I think my whole family does- we all do. I’m sorry my grandmother hasn’t asked you over in a while…”

“I understand,” you nod. “Reputation is an important thing.”

“I just didn’t want you to think it was because of us,” he says looking down at the porch, his eyes fixed on a loose board. “You know how she is- everything no matter the context is somehow a sin. Scared to death of her own shadow…”

“I know you’re not that resentful, Arvin Russell,” you chuckle and he relaxes. “And I don’t hold any hard feelings towards anyone in your family- you all have always been good to me.”

“Well, um,” he says awkwardly, looking like he was holding back from saying more. “I got to hit a couple more houses before I head to work, so I guess I’ll see you tomorrow at Church?”

“I’ll be there.”

“Oh- I wanted to let you know,” he says, turning around as he’s already heading down the front steps, “The principal down at the high school is looking for secretaries- Lenora heard and thought you might be interested. It pays like $35 a week, I think. You should call Linda Carson; I think Lenora said- that’s the woman who’s in charge of hiring people, I think.”

“I’ll call the school first thing Monday morning,” you say, grin stretching from ear to ear. Arvin nods and says goodbye again. You walk back into the house like you’re on top of the world. You couldn’t contain your excitement. That job if you could get it would be a dream. You’d be making so much more than you’re already making. You were so excited.

“You’re in a much better mood than when I last saw you,” Lee jokes. He’s sitting at the kitchen table reading the newspaper while he eats his breakfast. You notice that he made you a table setting- brought your coffee over and everything. You place the baking dish in the middle of the table and sit down.

“That was Arvin,” you say happily, and Lee feels his heart sink into his stomach.

“Oh yeah?” he asks, trying to not let on how his heart feels like it’s crushed. He knew it was only a matter of time before a boy would come around- whether it be Arvin or someone else your own age.

“Well, first he was just dropping off baked goods Lenora made,” you say gesturing to the dish on the table. “He’s going around to everybody, I guess. He mentioned the high school is looking for office secretaries- Lenora wanted me to know. Thirty-five dollars a week! I’m going to talk to Linda Carson about it Monday morning. Can you imagine? I could get a secretary job.”

Lee feels just a crash of relief wash over him. He’s so happy that you are looking at a new job. You deserve better than that bar. He knew you deserved the job just as much as any of the other candidates. You work harder than anyone he knows.

“That’s fantastic, sugar,” he replies. “You deserve it.”

“Do you think I have a chance?” you ask, feeling a little self-conscious- you knew you weren’t as experienced as other candidates would be for sure.

“Of course, I do,” he says, putting down the paper to give you his full attention. “I feel like you getting this job is a definite. There’s no doubt about it.”

“You’re just buttering me up,” you scoff, finishing up your food, making him chuckle. You may have also seen his cheeks redden, but you couldn’t say for sure. You finish off your coffee, and then bring you dishes back to the kitchen, leaving them in the sink. Lee turns his attention back to his newspaper and you head upstairs to get ready for your day.

When you head upstairs, Lee notices that you took the radio with you- and he could hear you were listening to music from upstairs. He decides before it’s too late to ring Mark Cunningham. The line rings a couple of times before Mark answers.

“Cunningham.”

“Morning, Mark. It’s Sheriff Bodecker,” he smirks.

“What can I do for you Sheriff?” he asks, the sound of shuffling paper comes through as well. Most likely flipping through the paper.

“I wanna call in that favor you owe me,” he says, casually pacing the living room, holding the receiver up to his ear and the base of the rotary phone in the other.

“Of course, Sheriff,” he says. A while back, Bodecker busted the principal making moonshine in his old barn that was at the end of his property. Lee looked the other way and was waiting for the right thing to call in a favor for.

“I want you to hire (Y/N) (Y/L/N) for the secretary job,” he says, looking to the stairs, making sure you aren’t coming. The music is still playing loudly from upstairs so he determines he’s still got time.

“That’s all?” Mark asked surprised.

“That’s all I want from you,” Lee replies. “I expect you can make that happen?”

“Without a doubt. When can she start?”

“Still have her come in for an interview. I don’t anyone else knowing I called you about this- including her.”

“Done.”

With that, Lee hangs up the phone, feeling really good about this decision. He knew how much that job meant to you- he could see it in your eyes and how excitedly you talked about it. He can’t wait to see you when you find out you get the position. He knows it’s going to make you so happy. He knows you’d be a fantastic candidate, but this just eliminates any doubt. He reasons that there isn’t much difference, since you were very likely to get it anyways. He just had to make sure.

He can picture you know, coming home from the interview- excited to tell him that you got the job. You’d be so excited you’d jump up and hug him tightly, just so overjoyed that you let your feelings take over. You’d wrap your legs and around his waist and he’d hold you up by holding the back of your thighs. You’d wrap your arms tightly around him and bury your head in the crook of his neck. You’d lift your head up to look at him, embarrassed at your actions and then he’d press his lips to yours. You’d gasp softly, but your lips would melt against his own and your arms would wrap tightly around his neck. He’d walk forward, pressing you up against the wall and he’d kiss your neck mumbling praises of congratulations against your skin as his name falls from your lips at how good he’d make you feel. It’s almost unbearable how bad he wants you.

He heads to him room to get ready for his day, but his mind is still clouded with thoughts of you. He thinks about how much he wants nothing more that to just pin you on his mattress. He wonders if you know how crazy you make him. Sometimes there’s something in your eye that makes him think you want him too, but he’s not sure. His better judgement holds him back from everything he wants to do. He thinks about how it must feel to have his head right in-between your thighs. Back in the kitchen together, he wanted to just get on his knees and worship you. The feeling of them pressing against him as he sucks on your clit and runs his tongue across your folds.

Serval hours later, he can’t shake the thoughts, even sitting in his office at the sheriff’s station- working on a Saturday yet again. He’s cooped up in his office, unable to get through any of the paperwork that has piled up on his desk. He’s thinking about you, again, but in this daydream, you’re bent over his desk- because you came by to see him on your break from work at the school. His office door locked and his blinds pulled so he can bend you over and take you right there- rough and fast, sending you back to work with a feeling of him still there between your legs well after you’re back at your own desk, still sore from the encounter.

“You got a visitor, Lee,” the intercom on his desk lights up.

“Send ‘em in,” he responds back, shaking his head to snap out of it. He needed to get a grip.

“Sorry I didn’t call,” you say, walking into his office. His eyes widen and he wonders if he’s still day dreaming. He discreetly pinches himself. You’re actually here, standing in his office, while he looks at you dumbfounded. Part of him would think he manifested it if he was a man of any faith. “You forgot this,” you say, putting his wallet on the desk. “You must have taken it out of your back pocket before falling asleep in the chair last night. It was laying on the coffee table. I figured I’d stop by with it while I was coming up this way anyways.”  

“You’re a doll,” he grins, putting his wallet in his back pocket. “What are you doing?”

“I took the bus to the library to return some books, and now I’m going shopping for something to wear when I go in for an interview since I have the day off to go,” you explain. “I’m also probably going to get lunch after that before heading back home. I just didn’t want to be home in case that reporter stopped by. I’m not ready to talk to him yet.”

“I can take care of it,” he says, “He’ll make his way over here soon enough. I can talk to him.”

“You would do that for me?” you ask, the relief evident across your whole face.

“Yeah, I can talk to him, let him know you gave a statement here,” he says. You nod. “You know as much as he does, so it doesn’t matter if I tell him you don’t know shit or if you tell him.”

“You’re a lifesaver,” you sigh, so relieved thinking that you won’t have to hear from Henry Curtis again. “If he tells you anything about them… will you let me know?”

“Of course, sweetheart.”

“Thank you,” you say, hurriedly walking over behind him and quickly hugging his shoulders. You then are back by the door again before he can register the gesture. “Are you going to be home tonight?” you ask, your hand on the doorknob.

“Not until late,” he says reluctantly, and he can see the disappointment on your face- unless his mind was playing tricks on him.

“Okay,” you say finally, “Um, I’ll see you later then.”

“Bye, doll,” he says when you walk out of his office.

Are you going to be home tonight? Your voice lingers in his head. It was such a harmless phrase that could’ve just been one of curiosity. Maybe you were just asking because you were thinking about what you were doing for dinner. It most likely just meant nothing. But, the look on your face when he said no makes him think otherwise. Did it mean you cared? That you wanted to spend time with him? You wanted to see him and be with him as desperately as he needed you perhaps? Just the phrasing itself makes his brain feel like putty. It’s like you’re waiting up for him. It’s like you share the house in a way that’s much more than just him renting a room from you. It’s like you’re his and he’s yours. It’s like saying our house… our home. The question was so intimate and implied so much more about how you saw him and what he was to you. He knew seeing him as how he saw you was next to impossible, but you saw him as more than the Sheriff and more than just the jerk living in your house.

Part Four

 Taglist:

@scar-is-bi @jiminlife2k18 @asylummaniac01​ @rosalynshields​ @charmed-asylum @jamesbuchananbuckybarnes1917 @alexandrathegreat3

[dlwritings]

Aftercare | Tom Holland

masterlist found here

pairing - Tom x reader word count - 6,568 (I have no idea how this happened) warnings - language, bad/uncomfortable first time, bleeding after sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, good sex! A/N - this wasn’t requested but the idea came to mind a while ago so here we are (I think I’m just sick of being a virgin and this came out of it)

summary - Not everyone cares about their first time. Some people just wanted to get it over with .You had always wanted it to be special. A special time with a special guy. But after ages of never finding that guy, you decide to just get it over with. Tom helps with the aftermath of the disaster.

You had always wanted your first time to be special. It wasn’t that you wanted to wait until marriage. You just wanted it to be with someone you loved, not a random stranger. But as the years went by, you felt like the chances of you finding someone you loved were slim. Hell, you were 22, and you hadn’t been in a serious relationship since you were 17. Your virgin status was starting to irk you. Not because of the label. No, you knew virginity was a social concept at best that society created to shame girls. The reason it irked you was because you wanted to have sex. You wanted to be in a relationship with someone so you could get absolutely railed by someone who loved you.

Was that too much to ask?

It didn’t help that you had a crush on your best friend. Girls all over the world swooned over Tom Holland, and you were one of them. The only difference was, you actually knew him. You had been friends for ages, and you had been in love with him for about just as long. Despite all the flirty comments the two of you shared and the endless platonic cuddling, that’s all it was. Platonic. Sometimes you swore he felt the same way, but after years of never making a move, you decided it was all in your head.

You weren’t sure at what point you just caved and downloaded Tinder. You couldn’t say what pushed you over the edge. Maybe it was the smutty Harry Styles fanfic you read that just went too hard (literally) and turned you on to the point of cracking. Regardless, you had done it, and you were actually doing pretty well on the app. You were getting a lot of swipes, and you were feeling pretty good about yourself. When one particularly handsome and charming guy -Theodore- asked you on a date, you agreed.

The restaurant you were going to was pretty fancy, so you wore a cute black skater dress and some killer red pumps. You did your makeup and hair to the best of your ability and finished applying your lipstick just as Theodore texted you that he was at your apartment. Okay, so he wasn’t going to pick you up at your door. That was fine. The gesture was a little outdated anyway, right?

“Hi,” you said, opening the car door and sliding in. “Theodore?”

“Theo,” he said with a smile. “(Y/N)?”

“That’s me,” you said. “It’s great to meet you.”

“You too,” he said. “Ready for dinner?”

“Mhm,” you hummed. “‘M pretty hungry.”

“Me too,” he said with a chuckle. 

The date was fine. It was nothing exciting. Nothing to write home about. Theo was nice enough. He was polite and everything, and he made some jokes that genuinely made you laugh. Still, he spent a lot of time talking about himself and not a lot of time asking questions about you.

As the night wore on, you could tell where it was headed. And Theo really was nice enough. You didn’t love him, but you liked him, and at this point in your life, you would take that. You invited him back to your apartment, which he accepted. You got into your apartment, and Theo wasted no time pressing you up against your front door and kissing you. You kissed him back, all the while hoping he didn’t notice how scared you were and how long it had been since you had kissed someone.

You two eventually stumbled into your bedroom, and Theo all but threw you onto your bed. You scooted up to the top of the bed and watched him unbutton his shirt and toss it aside. You expected him to kiss you or pull your dress off, but he didn’t. Instead, he moved to unbuckle his trousers and tugged them down along with his boxers. He grabbed a condom from his wallet and rolled it onto his already hard length. He smiled down at you and fumbled with your panties, pulling them off and throwing them to the floor. Part of you wondered if you should tell him it was your first time, but you also didn’t want to kill the vibe. Didn’t want him to run away. So, you let him thrust into you, biting your lip to stop the painful moan that wanted to escape your lips. You definitely weren’t wet enough, and he hadn’t stretched you out at all before sliding in. “Oh, fuck,” Theo moaned, hanging his head in pleasure. You focused on blinking back tears and tried to find any good feeling that might be there, but you couldn’t. It just hurt so much, and you wanted to tell him to stop. You should’ve told him to stop. You shouldn’t have to suffer through shitty sex just because you felt obligated to put out. But, you were the one who wanted to lose your virginity.

“(Y/N), Jesus fuck you’re so fucking tight,” he moaned. “You like my cock splitting you open like this?”

You weren’t sure how long guys were supposed to last, but you were sure it was longer than this.

Theo spilled into the condom and collapsed on top of you. He panted against your neck before placing a soft kiss to your skin. “You finished, right?” he asked.

“Hm?” you said. “Oh, yeah, thanks.”

You winced as Theo pulled out of you and went to the bathroom to get rid of the condom. When he came back, he pulled his boxers and trousers up his legs and buttoned his shirt back on. “This was great,” he said as he slid his shoes on his feet. “We should do this again sometime.”

“Okay,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper as you watched him. He walked over to you, placed a kiss to your forehead, and saw himself out of your apartment.

It didn’t take long for tears to spill from your eyes. When you lifted your dress to look between your legs, you saw you were bleeding. The sight made a sob escape your lips as you covered your mouth with your hand. You knew you needed to clean yourself up, but you felt actual pain between your legs, and your mind felt numb. As you cried softly, mascara running down your cheeks, you blindly reached for your phone that you had set on the bedside table and opened your contacts. There, you clicked your third favorite contact: Tom.

The line rang a few times -you didn’t pay attention to how many- before Tom answered. “Hello, love,” he said, an audible smile in his voice.

“Tommy?” you croaked out.

Tom had been laying back in bed watching TV but sat up as soon as you spoke. Not only did it obviously sound like you were crying, but you only called him Tommy when you were sad. He knew you had a date that night, and his mind immediately went to the worst case scenario. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?

“Can you just come over?” you asked. “I’m sorry to do this.”

“It’s okay,” he said. “I’ll leave right now. Be over in ten.”

“Okay,” you whispered. “See you soon.”

You hung up before he could respond. You laid in bed curled up in a ball, clutching your arms over your stomach. You couldn’t stop crying, and wished you could go back in time and stop yourself from downloading Tinder in the first place.

“(Y/N)?”

You opened your eyes at the sound of Tom’s voice. You were grateful you had given him a key for emergencies. Seeing him only made you cry harder, so he rushed over to you and sat beside you on the bed, pulling you onto his lap. You hissed at the movements, the pain between your legs even more present. “What happened?” Tom asked, running his hands through your hair.

“It hurts,” you sobbed, not knowing how to sit to ease the pain. Squeezing your legs together made it worse, but keeping them open was painful too.

“What hurts?” he asked.

You sniffed, trying to compose yourself so you didn’t sound like a blubbering idiot. You knew Tom wouldn’t judge you no matter what you said or did. That was one reason you loved him. “He wasn’t gentle,” you whispered. “And, and he didn’t prep me at all, but I didn’t want to stop him because I thought it’d be rude.”

Tom was quiet for a few moments, trying to let the words sink in. His heart broke at what you were implying. He knew you were a virgin, but you had always expressed to him that you wanted your first time to be special. He wasn’t judging you for losing it to some Tinder date, but it made him sad that you didn’t get the memorable first time you had always wanted.

“Are you bleeding?” he asked, his voice soft.

“Yeah,” you said back. “Hurts too much to get up and, and clean it.” Tom nodded in understanding, petting your hair comfortingly again.

“How about I run you a bath,” he said. “And while you’re in the tub, I’ll go get you some ice cream, okay? And we can watch some films for the rest of the night. Does that sound okay?”

“Yeah,” you choked out. “Thanks, Tommy." He nodded, kissed your forehead, and stood up from the bed to get a bath going in the bathroom. You stayed in the same position on the bed, doing your best to keep your tears in while you were alone.

“Alright, love,” Tom said when he came back in the room, crouching beside the bed so he was level with your face. He stroked your cheek with a soft smile. “Bath’s all ready. I put your favorite bath bomb in.” You managed to give him a smile back, but when you sat up, you frowned again at the ache between your legs. Tom licked his lips and gave you a tight, sad smile. “C’mere,” he said as he stood up straight and held his arms out to you. “I’ll carry you.”

You didn’t have the energy to argue with him, so you stuck your arms out and let him pick you up and carry you bridal style to the bathroom. He sat you on the toilet and knelt in front of you. “You want me to help you into the tub too?” he asked. You bit your lower lip and hung your head in shame.

“Do you mind?” you asked.

“Course not,” he said. “You take off your clothes, and I’ll lift you in.” You nodded and waited for him to turn his head so you could undress without his watchful eye. Not that it mattered, because he was literally about to lift your naked body into a bathtub. When your clothes were off, you muttered his name, so he turned to face you. He made sure to keep his eyes on yours rather than your body as much as he could as he hooked one arm under your knees and one around your back, lifting you up and setting you into the bathtub. He took your hair tie from your wrist and pulled your hair up into a ridiculously messy bun on the top of your head. You managed a soft smile as you sunk into the tub.

“Okay,” he said, petting the top of your head. “I’ll go pick you up some ice cream, yeah? You call me if you need anything, and I’ll come right back.”

“Okay,” you said. “Thank you.” He nodded, kissed your forehead, and left you alone in the bathroom.

When Tom got in his car, he gripped the steering wheel tightly and tried to compose himself. God, when he found this son of a bitch, he wasn’t going to hold back. And he would find this son of a bitch. For now, he had to focus on helping you feel better. He drove to the store to pick up the ice cream he knew you liked, and on the way there, he found himself calling his mom.

“Hello, lovely,” she said when she picked up.

“Hey, Mum,” he said back. “Can-” He cleared his throat. “Can I talk to you about something kind of serious?”

“Of course,” she said. “What is it?” He hesitated, but knew his mom would be able to help. After all, mother knows best.

“(Y/N) called me and, and she had sex with someone, but it, it wasn’t good sex.” He was trying to keep out awkward, intimate details.

“She’s sore?” she asked.

“Mhm,” he hummed. “Like, really bad. And she was bleeding a little too.”

“Oh dear,” she sighed.

“Yeah,” he said as he pulled into the parking lot of the store. “I’m going to pick her up some ice cream, but I want to know what I should get to actually help her.”

“Well, there’s not much you can do, really,” she said with another sympathetic sigh. “As odd as it sounds, she might want to use an ice pack. And-” She paused. “-are you ready to be an adult about this, Thomas?”

“Mum, I called you about this,” he said with a dramatic sigh. “Lay it on me.”

She chuckled. “If you want to buy her some Vagisil moisturizing gel or something, it couldn’t hurt. Maybe some Midol.”

“Okay,” Tom said, letting out a heavy breath. “I can do that.”

“Good boy,” she said. He could hear her smile. “You’re very sweet to do this for her, Tom.”

“Thanks, Mum,” he said, a blush forming on his cheeks. “I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

They exchanged I-love-yous and goodbyes, and Tom hung up the phone. He was in and out of the grocery store fairly quickly (the most time was spent searching for the Vagisil) and headed back to your apartment as soon as he could.

You were still in the tub when Tom got back, so he set everything on the vanity in your bedroom and helped you out of the tub, wrapping a dry towel around your body. You both headed into your room, and you got out some pajamas to put on. Over the shorts and tank top, you pulled on a hoodie you had once stolen from Tom. He didn’t know, but it was your comfort hoodie. You wore it whenever you were sad or stressed because it made you feel safe.

“Um,” Tom said, rubbing the back of his neck as you crawled into bed, “I got you some stuff.”

“Stuff?” you repeated, furrowing your eyebrows.

“Yeah,” he said, fumbling with the grocery bag. “I got ice cream, and, and, uh, well, you said you were hurting, so, um-” He cleared his throat, and you couldn’t help but smile at how nervous he was. He dumped out the contents of the bag and revealed that he bought an ice pack, some Midol, and a small tube of Vagisil. Suddenly, you wanted to cry all over again. You sucked in your lower lip and looked up at Tom who immediately frowned. “Oh no,” he said. “I’m sorry. Did I overstep?”

“No, no,” you said, shaking your head. “This is just-” You took a shaky breath. “This is really sweet, Tommy. Thank you.”

Tom’s smile returned as he nodded once. “Alright,” he said. “I’ll go get spoons, you pick a film, okay?”

“Okay,” you said back. He took the ice pack to put in the freezer for a while, and you moved everything else to the bedside table. “Tom?” you called after him.

“Yeah?”

“Can you get me some water too?”

“Of course!”

You worked to open up the Midol which you did just as he came back with spoons and a water for you. You thanked him, downed two of the pills, and smiled as he plopped beside you on the bed. “Did you pick a film yet?” he asked, allowing you to sit between his legs and rest your back on his chest.

“No,” you said. “Something on Disney+ I think.”

“Whatever you want, love.”

You eventually settled on Monsters Inc. which Tom said was fine. Realistically, you knew he would’ve been okay with whatever you picked. Less than halfway through the film, you and Tom had already abandoned the ice cream, allowing it to melt slowly on the bedside table. One of you would put it away in the freezer before going to bed. As the minutes ticked on and the ache between your legs started to subside, you couldn’t help but think about Theo again. Tom must’ve noticed your shift in demeanor, because he rubbed your stomach with his thumbs and nudged your cheek with his nose. “Are you okay?” he asked. You hung your head and closed your eyes, not wanting to burst into tears all over again.

“Just wish I did it all different,” you whispered. He hesitated a moment.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” he asked. You swallowed back the lump in your throat before speaking.

“We got back from dinner,” you told him, “and I invited him into my apartment.” You shook your head at the memories. “Everything happened so fast. We were kissing, and then, he was taking off his clothes and-” You couldn’t help it. Tears started to come again. You felt so sad and stupid and embarrassed and hurt and used. “-he didn’t even take off my dress. He didn’t touch me or anything. He just put on the condom and-” You cut yourself off with another shake of your head, figuring Tom got the picture. “It was over pretty quick, and he asked me if I came and I just said yes.”

“But you didn’t?” he asked.

“Of course I didn’t,” you mumbled, painfully aware of the shake in your voice. “He didn’t do anything to make me feel good at all. I feel so stupid.”

“You shouldn’t,” he said. “If anyone should feel stupid, it should be him. He’s clearly shitty at sex.” You giggled softly which made Tom smile and nudge his nose against your cheek again. You looked up at him. “I’m sorry your first time wasn’t more special,” he said. “I know you wanted it to be nice. And you deserved something nice.”

“It’s whatever,” you said dismissively. “Maybe I made a bigger deal out of it than I should’ve. I set my expectations too high.”

“No you didn’t,” Tom said. “You just wanted a good first time. That’s not asking too much. Hell, you didn’t even get to cum. You’re allowed to be upset about this.”

You scoffed. “Well, let’s just say I’m deleting Tinder, so I don’t see me getting anything better anytime soon. Not unless I meet some sex god at the office.” Tom sighed and kissed your temple.

“You’ll find someone better,” he mumbled against your skin. “I promise.”

-

After the whole Theo fiasco, you deleted Tinder, deciding whatever game you wanted to call that just wasn’t for you. Everyday went by with the same routine. Wake up, work, come home, watch TV, go to bed, repeat. Eating was sprinkled in here and there, and you tried to change up your meals whenever you could for a little bit of variety. Otherwise, it was all very monotonous.

So when you got home on Friday and found a note taped to your front door, you were rightfully confused. You pulled it from the wall, let yourself into your apartment, and closed the door behind you with your foot as you ripped the envelope open.

(Y/N)-

We haven’t gotten dinner in a while. Wear something nice, and I’ll pick you up at 6:00! It’s gonna be great x

Tom

You pressed your lips into a tight line and held the note to your chest as you leaned against the door. Sometimes you hated Tom for doing stuff like this. He was such boyfriend material, but he would never be that. Did he have any idea what he did to you? How he made you feel? Probably not. You loved Tom, but he sure was thick sometimes.

It was already about 5:00, so you had to get ready pretty quickly. You put on a white, lace, bodycon dress and started to do your hair and makeup. Tom arrived before you were quite finished, but he let himself in. “(Y/N)?” he called.

“Bedroom!” you called back. He came in, and you caught his reflection in the mirror. He looked handsome, as expected: blue slacks, a white button-up, and brown shoes that matched his brown belt. You turned to look at him, your lips slightly parted. Before you could say anything-

“Wow,” he whispered. “You-” He chuckled. “Wow.”

“Shut up,” you said with a laugh. “Don’t be weird.”

“I’m not!” he said, matching your laugh. “I’m just saying. Wow. You look great.”

“Well thank you,” you said, walking up to him. You straightened his collar that was folded oddly. “You don’t look too bad yourself.” You patted his chest and tried not to let your hands linger for too long. Tom stuck his arm out for you to take, which you did, and the two of you walked out to his car.

You and Tom had been going on friend dates for ages. Once he became famous, he loved treating you to fancy dinners whenever you both had time to spare. You on the other hand were a sucker for bowling nights and paintball tournaments. But nice restaurants were lovely too, and any time you could spend with Tom, you would take.

Dinner flowed as nicely as it always did when you were together. You chatted about your work, and he shared as many details of his newest project as he could. The whole time, you couldn’t help but feel like there was a weird tension in the air. Maybe tension wasn’t the right word. There was just something going on with Tom that you couldn’t quite place. You didn’t ask him about it until you left the restaurant. He invited you back to his place for drinks, and you obliged.

“Are you okay?” you asked him as he pulled out of the restaurant parking lot. “You seem a little off.”

“Off?” he repeated. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” you said. “Forget it.” Tom just chuckled and continued the drive down the street. When you arrived at his apartment, you knew for a fact something was going on with him, and you didn’t like how he was hiding it. “What is up with you, Tom?” you asked him. “I know something’s going on. I know you.” He took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair as he closed the door behind the both of you when you got inside.

“You know I love you and care about you,” he said.

“Of course,” you said, folding your arms across your chest. “Why are you-”

“C’mere,” he said, taking your hand. Your eyebrows furrowed even deeper than they already were but allowed him to walk you over to his bedroom. When you walked in, your lips parted slightly in shock. He had a lamp light on and his essential oil diffuser (the one you bought him for Christmas) going, the soothing smell of lavender filling the room. On the bed -which was neatly made; a rare occurrence at Tom’s house- were rose petals. You turned to look at him, sure he could hear your heart pounding in your chest. “There’s no pressure,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, “but I couldn’t stop thinking about how unfair it is that your first time was so horrible. It should’ve been with someone special like you wanted. Someone who cares about you. And, well-” He sighed as if realizing he was fumbling around the point. “I want to make it up to you. I want to show you what good sex is supposed to be like.”

“You, y- you, uh,” you stuttered. “You want to have sex with me?” He licked his lips and took a step closer to you.

“No pressure,” he said. “No strings. Just good sex and the guarantee of at least one orgasm.”

You swallowed thickly. “At, at least one?” Tom smiled and nodded, then closed the distance between the two of you by wrapping his arms around you.

“At least one,” he repeated. He could tell you were hesitant by the way you were nibbling on your lower lip, so he stroked your cheek gently in an attempt to calm you down. “If you say yes and you change your mind while we’re doing it, that’s okay too. I’ll take it nice and slow for you.” He paused, licking his lips as he glanced down at yours, then up at your eyes again. “But if this is too weird, that’s fine. I just wanted to give you the chance to have great sex with someone who cares about you.”

You giggled a bit. “Are you saying you’re great at sex?”

“Mm,” he hummed with a smug smile. “I don’t want to brag, but I’ve never heard any complaints.” You melted into Tom’s touch as he pulled you a little closer and buried his face in your neck. “What do you say, darling?” he whispered, kissing your skin lightly. “You want me to make you feel good?” You took a shaky breath and closed your eyes as Tom sucked the skin of your pulse point, surely leaving a bruise.

“Yeah,” you whispered. You felt Tom smile before he pulled back to look at you. He pressed his forehead to yours and kissed your nose.

“Okay,” he said. “C’mere.” The two of you walked over to the bed, and Tom helped you move to the head of the bed. He sat in front of you with his legs crossed, and you mirrored his position. You tried to give him a strong smile, but you knew it came out small and nervous. He chuckled softly and put his hand on your cheek. “S’okay to be nervous,” he said. You bit your lip and nodded just as he started to lean forward and brush his lips against yours. You released your hold on your bottom lip and accepted his kiss, opening your mouth as soon as Tom traced his tongue across your lip. Already, this was different than when you were with Theo. It was like Tom was pouring his care into the kiss.

You put your arms over his shoulders and played with the hairs at the nape of his neck. He started to lay you down on the bed, and you could feel your breathing pick up. Still, you kept your lips pressed to his. His tongue massaged against yours, and you held in your whimpers as best as you could. It got harder when he started trailing kisses down your jaw and neck. His mouth wasn’t muffling your noises, so you had to bite your lip to keep yourself quiet. “Darling,” he whispered against your collarbone, “you look like an angel in this dress.”

“Thank you,” you whispered, your eyes fluttering closed.

“Can you lay on your stomach for me?” he asked. “Wanna unzip you.” You nodded and rolled over, and you swore you heard him hum as he put his hands on the back of your thighs. He ran them up your body, pausing to squeeze your ass which made you jump. He chuckled and moved to unzip the dress, kissing the skin that was exposed as he removed the fabric. You turned to sit up so he could pull the dress off you, and he licked his lips when he saw you weren’t wearing a bra. Everything suddenly felt very real, and you moved to cover yourself. Tom frowned and shook his head. “You’re so beautiful, (Y/N),” he said. You hung your head, still feeling an odd sense of uncomfortableness, but Tom was having none of that. He lifted your head and kissed you again. He laid you down on the bed and started kissing down your neck. “How’re you doing?” he asked, feeling your erratic pulse against his lips.

“Just nervous,” you admitted. Because this was Tom. You could be honest with Tom.

“That’s okay,” he said, sucking your pulse point until a bruise formed and you whimpered. “‘S not gonna hurt, okay, love? ‘M just gonna use my mouth to start. Warm you up and make sure you’re ready for me.”

“Okay,” you whispered.

“And you let me know if anything doesn’t feel good,” he said. You nodded, and Tom kissed down your body, pausing to pay attention to each of your breasts. He sucked on each nipple until it was hard and extra sensitive to the touch. He smiled as he nipped at your bud until you whined and tugged your fingers through his hair. You could feel a pulsing between your legs, and you needed more. Tom could tell, because he smiled again and kissed down your stomach until he got to the waistband of your panties. He looked up at you through his eyelashes, and you licked your lips and stared up at the ceiling. When you broke eye contact, he tucked his fingers in your panties and pulled them down your legs. Your breath hitched, but you didn’t say anything. Tom would take care of you. You had no doubts about that. If he said it wouldn’t hurt, you believed him.

Tom pushed your legs apart and brought his mouth down to your thighs, kissing each of them before placing his mouth on your opening. You gasped and put your hands in his hair, and you felt him smile. His thumbs dug into your thighs as he licked up your slit, avoiding contact with your clit. And as badly as you wanted him to touch you there, this was already feeling better than everything Theo had done to you. “Tom,” you breathed out, squeezing your eyes shut. “Feels so go-” You cut yourself off with a moan as Tom started swirling his tongue around your clit. “Oh Christ,” you muttered. “Tom!” He wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked, causing you to whine again and arch your back.

“Can I add a finger?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you gasped. “Yes. Please, Tom.” He nodded and sucked his finger in his mouth, then slowly eased it into your opening. “Ahh!” you moaned.

“You okay, love?” he asked.

“Mhm,” you hummed. He slowly started moving his finger, still keeping his mouth on your clit. You squeezed your eyes shut as he slid another finger inside you. The sudden change in fullness startled you in a good way. So this was what foreplay was supposed to feel like. Tom added another finger, and you swore you were in heaven. He could tell you were feeling good by the way your jaw was dropped but no noise was coming out. He smiled and curled his fingers a bit so that they grazed your g-spot perfectly. “Tom,” you whispered. “I, I’m-”

“Cum for me, darling,” he said. “I’ve got you.”

Your thighs squeezed around his hand as he flicked his tongue over your clit and moved his fingers faster in and out of you. In seconds, you were coming around his fingers with a soft cry as you dug your head into the pillow. Tom kissed your thighs and slowed his fingers down to help you ride out your high. When you caught your breath, you blinked your eyes open and looked down at him. He had a lazy smile on his face, and he kissed up your body until he got to your lips. “You want to keep going?” he asked. You nodded and lifted your head slightly to kiss him. He pulled back quickly and tugged his shirt over his head, then let his jeans and boxers follow.

His cock was more impressive than Theo’s. Longer. Thicker. If his foreplay wasn’t enough, you knew now that sex with Tom was about to be much better than it was with Theo. Tom reached into his bedside drawer and pulled out a condom, wasting no time rolling it onto his length with his lower lip tucked between his teeth. He pressed his hands into the mattress on either side of your head, and you gripped his biceps in your hands, your nails leaving little half moon shapes across his skin. “S’okay,” he whispered to you, stroking your cheek with the back of his hand. “S’not gonna hurt, okay? I promise.” He leaned down to pepper gentle kisses across your face. “Do you trust me, love?” You nodded.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “Yeah. I trust you.”

Tom smiled and gripped his cock, lining himself up with your pussy. He guided himself in, inch by inch, kissing your neck and whispering words of encouragement into your ear as he did so. He was right. It didn’t hurt. In facte, it felt so fucking good, you wanted to cry. “Oh, Tom,” you muttered, your head tossing back. He kissed up the column of your neck, and you could feel a smile across his lips. Once he bottomed out, Tom paused, giving you time to adjust. You let out a shaky breath, and he moved his head so he could look in your eyes. He only hovered for a moment before pressing his lips to yours. You sighed into the kiss as his tongue slipped into your mouth, fighting for dominance against yours. He stayed still until you wrapped your legs around his waist, silently encouraging him to move. He pulled his hips back and thrust them forward in a slow, smooth stroke. You cried out in pleasure, and Tom moved to kiss your neck again.

“Oh fuck, (Y/N),” he moaned. “How’s it feel?”

“Tom,” you cried. “Feels so good.” He brought his fingers up to his lips and licked two of them before sliding his hand between your bodies. His fingers found your clit right away, and he started rubbing fast circles, hoping to bring you close to that edge. He wanted more than anything to move faster, to pound into your tight cunt like it was all his -like you were all his- but he held back. This time couldn’t hurt you at all. He wouldn’t be like that other guy. He wanted you to remember this. To happily remember this. Even more than that, he wanted this to mean something.

He just wasn’t sure he was ready to admit that much yet.

You squeezed around his member, and Tom muttered, “Fuck,” under his breath and moved his hips a little faster. ���You’re close,” he said. It was a statement. Not a question. Like he already knew your body better than you did.

“Yeah,” you confirmed. “‘M close.”

He let his hand move at the same pace as his hips -faster and faster, bringing you closer and closer to climaxing. “Tom,” you cried. “I’m, I’m gonna, oh.”

You squeezed your eyes shut and came, squeezing so tightly he came right after. He moaned your name in your ear, slowing the movement of his hips to help you ride out your high. You gripped his hair in your fists, and he started kissing your neck again. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered. “Did you know that? Do you know how beautiful you are?” He pulled back so he could look in your eyes, then brushed his knuckles across your cheek again.

“Thanks, Tom,” you whispered. He smiled and pulled out of you, frowning as soon as you winced.

“Are you okay?” he asked. “Are you hurt? Did I hurt you?”

“No,” you said, shaking your head. “I’m okay.” He smiled softly and kissed your cheek, then pushed himself out of bed.

“Want you to go to the bathroom, okay?” he said. “Then we can go to bed.” You nodded, your head feeling a little hazy, then got out of bed. Tom watched with a soft smile as you trotted off to the bathroom. While you were gone, he changed the sheets, put on some clean boxers, and got you a pair of boxers and a t-shirt to wear to bed. You were back in a few moments, your hair now up in a bun and your makeup off your face. You gave him a sheepish smile, your arms folded awkwardly across your chest, and he smiled back. “I got you some clothes,” he told you. “You’re staying the night, yeah?”

“If that’s okay,” you said, hanging your head a bit.

“Course,” Tom said. You smiled, then took the clothes he offered you and changed. By the time you were dressed, Tom was under the covers. You got into bed beside him, and turned on your side to face him. “So,” he said, reaching out to stroke your cheek again, “how was that?”

You giggled. “I think you already know the answer to that.”

He chuckled. “It’s always good to hear the compliments out loud.” You rolled your eyes and gave his shoulder a shove. Your expression shifted a bit.

“How was I?” you asked. He gave you a soft smile.

“You were perfect, love,” he said. “Best I ever had.”

“Shut up,” you said. “Don’t lie.”

“I’m not lying!” he said. “I’ve ever had sex with someone I-” He cut himself off, his smile dropping a bit. “It’s just different.”

“With someone you what?” you asked. Tom swallowed, and you could sense something that looked like nerves in his eyes. “What?” you pressed, a giggle passing your lips. “What’s on your mind?” He sighed and sat up, causing you to furrow your eyebrows and mimic his position.

“(Y/N),” he said, “I love you.”

Your response was immediate.

“What?”

“I love you,” he repeated. “And, and I care about you so much. When, when you said sex with that douchebag was so bad, I wanted it to be better for you. You deserve something better than that. I really mean that. But, but what I didn’t tell you was that it was also, it was a way for me to-” He sighed, clearly annoyed with himself. “I wanted to sleep with you because I love you. I, I saw this as a chance to, to be with you the way I want to be with you. And I know how wrong that is. I know how messed up that sounds, but-”

“You love me?” you said. You were still having a hard time processing the admission. He just sighed and nodded. Before he could say anything else -and he looked like he was going to say something else- you closed the small space between the two of you in a kiss. He jumped, but the shock wore off quickly, and he rested his hand on your cheek. He smiled beneath the kiss, and you smiled back. When you pulled away, you kept your foreheads pressed together. “I love you too,” you whispered. “And, honestly, I wish my first time had been with you, but, but I’m glad you made this one count.”

“Yeah,” he said with a small chuckle. “Me too. And don’t you worry-” He pressed a kiss to your nose. “-all the times after this are gonna be just as good.”

“Yeah?” you giggled. “Promise?”

“Oh yeah,” he said with a grin. “I promise.”

----- ----- ----- -----

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Can I request Nanami x Chubby Female S/O -Cooking 8+ 9 + 23 for the 700 followers event? Please Take your time to write it okay? If you feel like changing the S/O gender, please feel free to write in any gender you are comfortable with! Good luck on your writing! ❤️💜💚

Sweet Nothings: Nanami Kento x Fem!Reader

wc: 1.4k

tw: NSFW

700 Follower Event Masterlist

There's blood on Kento's shirt.

All over the right side of his shirt, in fact.

When he walks into the apartment, his face is long and exhausted, perhaps because he just put in four hours of overtime. But the gun in his hand is enough to remind you that overtime never came without its drawbacks.

"Kento," you whisper, walking up to him and scrutinizing his shirt, your fingers avoiding the blood spatter. "You're hurt."

"I'm okay," he breathes, dropping the gun on the coffee table and sighing. "It's not mine." The realization makes you inhale deeply, and tears well up in your eyes. "But we need to go. Pack some clothes for a few days. It's not safe here." You obey silently, walking over to your room and stuffing a bag full of random clothes, most of which you're sure don't match. Nanami collects cash from inside a DVD case while you rush about, stuffing it into his wallet before grabbing his reading glasses and looking around the apartment.

Another gun is produced, this one outfitted with a silencer and another wad of cash from inside your rain boots. Again, you wait patiently for him to finish his surveillance, then rejoin you at the door, whereupon he unlocks it and walks out first.

From the stairs to the car, you wonder what trouble Kento came across that scared him bad enough to make him want to go to a safe house. But you realize it doesn't matter as you're driving away from the apartment.

Kento knows best. He always does.

The ride is silent as well, and the setting sun turns into rain as you speed down the highway. Halfway into the trip, you look out of the window at the passing landscape, wondering how much longer you had to go when a black sedan pulls up right next to you two.

"Ken..." The window slides down, and you see a man flash a silver gun at the car, aiming right at your face. "Kento!"

Nanami slams on the gas just in time for the bullet to hit the back window, shattering the glass completely.

"Hold on, y/n," he states calmly, and you brace yourself as he begins to speed down the highway, breaking the law but attempting to save your lives. The black sedan follows at the same pace, but when Nanami slides out the gun from the glove compartment and lowers your window, you fight a scream, leaning your seat all the way back.

Pop pop pop

The sound of the black sedan swerving and the metallic crash after lets you know that you're safe for now, and the window is rolled back up.

"You can sit up," Kento murmurs, and you do so, fingers shaking as the seat rolls back up. The wind whistles through the back window of the car as you continue your trip in silence.

You arrive at the safe house thirty minutes later, but you're stuck to your seat, shellshocked. At first, Nanami gets out and retrieves both of your bags, but when you don't get out, he walks over to the car door and opens it.

"Are you hurt?"

"No," you reply, attempting to unbuckle your seatbelt. But when you fumble for the clasp, you suddenly lose your patience, tears falling from your eyes.

"Hey, hey," he whispers, setting your bag by your feet and reaching around your body to unbuckle the seatbelt. "I've got it. Don't worry."

But even as you follow him into the average-looking house, you can feel yourself losing a semblance of sanity, absolutely terrified of what might come next. Kento leads you into the bedroom - which is much bigger than your shared one at the apartment - and sits your things down before moving to sit you on the bed. Wordlessly, he removes your shoes and caresses your toes, humming to himself and still in his bloody shirt.

"You're tired. I think you should rest for a minute." You nod, and he smiles up at you for reassurance. "You did well back there. Wonderful, actually. I’m really proud of you, but now I want you to focus on feeling better now, alright? For me?"

"Alright," you whisper as he lets go of your feet and stands, unbuttoning his shirt slowly.

"I'm going to take a shower if you want to join."

As you stand under the running water, you close your eyes, hands on your shoulders while you wait for Nanami to find a towel. When he does, he enters behind you, closing the door and pulling your body flush against his. He holds your round hips under his rough palms, lips drifting down the side of your neck slowly. You don't realize you're shivering in the warm shower, at least not at first, but then Nanami clutches your shoulders, kneading them gently.

"Relax for me, my love," he coos, and you try your best, but in the middle of him lathering soap onto the loofah and cleansing you, you crack.

"I'm so scared," you murmur, and Nanami stops, eyes roaming over your face and calculating his next move.

"It's okay to be scared," he replies, continuing to wash you. "But I need you to trust me. I'll keep you safe."

Once the shower is over, you towel off, standing in front of the mirror in the bathroom with your towel wrapped around your body. Nanami sifts through his things, pulling out his weapon and sitting it on the wooden bedside table. You inhale slowly, but then exhale, finding some sort of peace in your mind. You would only have to stay here for a few days...

"Y/n, come here," Nanami calls from the bedroom, and you pad over to him. He pulls you close by your hips, and dips his head to capture your lips with his, hands roaming lazily over your full figure.

"Kento..." you moan when he kisses down your neck again, this time unwrapping your towel and letting it drop to the ground. As he palms your breasts, you sigh with pleasure, forgetting all of the awful things that happened earlier and relishing in his touch. And he works silently, pushing you to the bed and laying you out spread eagle.

Kento groans low in his throat when he dips a finger into you, feeling your wetness already pooling between your thighs. He adds another finger, then laps at your clit next, sucking as he finger fucks you skillfully.

"Fuck, Ken," you hiss, wrapping your fingers into his hair. His response is nothing less than a feral grunt into your pussy, the vibrations coursing through you as you grind onto his face. "Please..."

The fingers that are nestled in your cunt rock back and forth rapidly, stroking you with ease as your climax builds and crests over into a full-blown orgasm. Nanami's fingers go as deep as they can as your walls clench around them, spasming rhythmically as his lips pop free of your clit. When you finish your first orgasm, he removes his fingers from inside of you and places them in his mouth, moaning around them.

"You always taste so good..."

"Fuck me," you pant, and he obliges, saddling himself between your plush thighs and sinking into your soaking wet cunt. You both groan at the sensation of him inside and you fitting around him perfectly, then at the way he moves within you, leaning down on your body and bringing his arms up to frame your face. "Ken," you pant as he slows his strokes to a pleasurable and leisurely pace.

"I don't fuck," he breathes. "I make love." He leans down to kiss you, lips brushing over yours before sinking into you fully and then kissing you with passion. "But you know I would go to the ends of the earth to make you happy." At this, you feel tears forming in your eyes, and they only release when Nanami leans back down to kiss you again, tangling his tongue with yours in an illicit dance as he makes love to you. “Shh, shh, you’re okay. I’m here, I’m here," he whispers when you hiccup as your tears roll down your face, hips rocking into yours.

"I love you," you reply, sniffing. "God, I love you so much."

"I love you, too," Kento echoes back, breathing heavily. "You're my entire world."

After Nanami makes love to you twice, he tucks you into bed and walks to the foyer of the house, placing a chair facing the door with his gun in hand, waiting for anything... anyone.

Like he always does.

[lovesanmotion]

ateez reacts: making up with their s/o

💌 This is: Requested | Alot of you have asked for a part 2 of the arguement reaction and now here I am to deliver all of you its part 2 

Hongjoong: 

A week. That’s what it took long for Hongjoong to go after you. After you had left the shared apartment, it was never the same for him again. Hee started coming to work hours late, work productivitiy low and once caused destruction on the coffee machine because the coffee didn’t taste the same just like how you’d do it. He was slightly thankful that he still has his job despite the mess he placed upon himself. 

Hongjoong knocked on the door to your parents’ house. A bouquet of flowers in his hand to let you know that he always has you on his mind. As the door opened, he was surprised to a new you. A new you wherein there was this certain glow in you, the wrinkles and tiredness away from your face. The sense knocked into Hongjoong: he was the cause of the problem. 

“W-What are you doing here?” You asked, staring at him and then eyeing the flowers in his hand. 

Hongjoong smiles and hands you to the bouquet, to which you accept. “I came here to apologize. You might still hate me and seeing my face right now is probably making your blood boil...but I’ll get into it. I’m sorry, and I miss you. Marrying you is the best thing I ever did. And I’m ready to give you all the children you and I wish to have. But, I’ll give you more time and space. It’s what you need right now. It was nice seeing you, Y/N.” As Hongjoong was about to leave the walkway, a hand gripped on his forearm. His heart raced inside his chest, as he turns around to face you, a soft smile paints your small lips. 

“Stay with me.” 

Seonghwa: 

After plates, knives and forks were thrown to one another, Seonghwa took a break on you and met up with other women. Going on dates and having drinks with them, he couldn’t even look at them the way he would look at you. It had been half a year since he lost contact with you. Until one day, while he was about to get ready to go on a date with this women who his friend set him up with, he received a phone call from an unregistered number. Nevertheless, he picked it up. 

“Hello?” 

“This is Park Seonghwa, right?” On the other line sounded like a voice of an older woman. 

“Who is this?” 

“I’m sorry for calling without notice. I’m Y/N’s mother. Y/N has been missing since last night.” Seonghwa couldn’t hear anything what your mother is saying, quickly taking his keys, phone and wallet before dashing out the door. 

“Where was she last seen ma’am?” He quickly gets inside his car, pressing the keys to start the engine. 

“Central Park in the city, the one called Seoul forest. We called for a search team earlier today but they couldn’t find her.” Your mother’s voice began to break, Seonghwa’s heart started to beat immensely. 

“I’ll bring her back to you” He says before ending the call and driving off. You see, Seonghwa didn’t used the word “try” in his sentence. It is because whether it takes him hours, he would thoroughly look for you all by himself. 

And deep within the forest, Seonghwa kept yelling your name, it was dark and cold and he’s all alone. His suit all covered up with sweat, dirt and leaves. As he went further, Seonghwa found an abandoned bus inside the forest, he didn’t know how could a bus fit in the forest’s narrow road but he went aboard it alas, found you in the middle row. 

He wanted to get mad at you, scold at you for getting your mother and him worried. But he couldn’t bring himself to do so, instead, he wrapped his arms around you and hugged you tightly, breaking into small sobs. 

“I didn’t think it would be you who’d find me” you whispered, burying your face on his shoulder. 

“I should’ve hugged you the last time I saw you” 

Yunho: 

You lifted your suitcase up and strolled it inside the airport. A week program in Jeju is exactly what you needed to get your life back together. Finally, it is you. No more hiding and pretending to be someone you’re not for Yunho. 

While waiting to be called in the immigration, you sat at the lounge area, scrolling through your phone when you heard a commotion and rushed footsteps, tilting your head, you saw a crowd of men, women and Yunho? You watched as Yunho moved his head right and left as if he was looking for someone, and when your eyes met his, he walked towards you. 

“Isn’t that Yunho? What’s he doing here?” 

“Who is that Yunho going to? Isn’t he and Nayoung together?” 

“Whoever she is, she’s ruining their relationship” 

“You’re leaving without saying goodbye?” He asks, you scoffed, closing your phone. “I’ve already said my goodbyes to everyone. Except you. Why should I?” Standing up, you grabbed the handle of your luggage and was about to wheel it away when Yunho caught its handle. 

“And you’re leaving, just like that?” You spun around, looking at Yunho in the eyes with your tears forming. 

“We tried to make it work right?” Despite the tears threatening to fall down and your nose turning red, you smiled to him. 

“Yunho, I’m tired.” You whispered as a tear slips out of your eye. “I looked for you in places I knew there would be you. But it was you who kept walking away, and I’m tired of chasing you.” small sobs finally broke out, but still, a crowd of women surrounded the two of you with camera’s pointing at you both.  

“I’m sorry.” Yunho says, head hung low. “I’m sorry if I made things worst for the both of us.” He pauses, catching a tear fall down on the floor. “But now I know, that you’re really for me. Even if its going against my family, I’d do anything for you to keep you in my life.” He finally lifted his head up, eyes red and tears streaming down his face. 

Yeosang: 

“The worst thing I ever did is that...I depended my happiness with you.” 

Yeosang and his other woman were caught redhanded by you last night. And you hated how he showed no mercy or remorse for you. 

“But I wanted to say thank you for you. Thank you for all the memories we’ve shared. Even if it was short, I’ll treasure them. The good and the bad. Goodbye, Yeosang.” And with that, you got up and left. 

San: 

There was no closure between the two of you. You and San separated paths together and have been doing everything you both wanted. And you think it’s better that way, because you were done and tired. Having to put up with him always was draining you emotionally and physically. As if its only you who cares about the relationship. Although he left you traumatized, you were slowly coping up before you could face the world again. 

Mingi: 

Red. That was all you could see. You trashed and threw everything in sight, causing a mess all over your room and it took about five people to stop you from destructing your whole room. You wondered if you really deserve love at all, because right now, all you ever feel is rage. 

Wooyoung: 

Woo took his sweet time and met with multiple women, hooking up with them on random nights before calling a cab to take them to the nearest hotel. But get this, Woo never kissed them. Not once. He never got off with them, and often time, he would get annoyed at how whiny and demanding they could get in bed. And one night when he couldn’t sleep, his thoughts drifted to you. He wondered if you were sleeping well right now, where you are and wondering how well you are. His thoughts brought him back to all the memories he shared with you. A small smile paints his lips until he groaned, lifting his head slightly as he sees his cock erected up. 

“You miss her too, huh?” 

Jongho: 

A day after you and Jongho fought, he started to become around at home more often. He would lightly scold you if you did house chores as he would always volunteer to do it for you and would tell you to just lay down and take a rest. Whenever the baby would cry in the middle of the night, Jongho would only tell you to go back to sleep as he could handle this. And you did, you went back to sleep, only to be awake a few minutes after about how cold the spot next to you is. 

Slowly you got up and went over to the baby room, your heart swelled at the sight of Jongho sleeping in the couch with your child laying down on top of his chest. 

[lightsovermonaco]

His Good Sweater: Chapter 10

Masterlist

Shoutout to my bestie @acollectionofficsandshit for all the drunk comments she made while betaing this one... Wish you guys could see them lol

Word Count: 4.8k

Recommended song: “Amnesia" by 5SOS

Pierre paces in his dinky trailer at the Circuit of the Americas and desperately tries to forget you exist. He had already taken down the pictures on the wall but the images were burned into his brain. He had shoved your shirt under his bed, having absolutely no idea how it had made its way halfway around the world to taunt him.

He was slowly unraveling like a spool of thread on a loom as you wove him irrevocably into the tapestry of your life.

The race in Austin started in less than two hours and you hadn't texted him. Not once in the handful of years he'd known you had you neglected to wish him luck before a race, even if it was 2 am your time or you had exams, you always took thirty seconds to warn him to be safe and finish well.

He was beginning to think you hated him for how he'd acted at the gala last weekend, jealous and possessive from afar. Talking to you would have been the better choice. But seeing you laugh and dance the night away had hurt too much. He’d slipped out early after Victoria assured him she could find a ride and sped home to fall apart.

He had only barely managed to piece himself together in time for the race.

Pierre checks his phone for the third time in as many minutes and swears under his breath. He didn't know why he expected it to ring and for your face to pop up at this point. Even if you called to tear into him, he'd still fall to his knees at the sound of your voice. He just wanted to hear you speak, didn't care what was said, only that he could latch onto your words and lose himself in them.

Hope sparks when his phone chimes but he nearly throws it across the trailer when he sees Charles' name.

Heard from her yet?

No. At this point I'm beginning to think I never will again.

Maybe she fell asleep early?

It's 5 pm in London. I'll bet you she's eating a bowl of takeout from the Chinese place down the street, not sleeping.

Its still possible. Don't dwell on it. This isn't the headspace you wanna be in before a race. Block it out. I don't wanna see my best friend wind up hurt today.

Pierre didn't reply, if only because Charles was right. Worrying would get him nowhere. After his shitty qualifying yesterday, he started thirteenth on the grid so he had his work cut out for him. Austin offered plenty of opportunity for overtakes; he could get the job done if his team made the right calls. 

And if he made it to the podium, you would have to text him.

The thin mattress groans when he sits to unlace his hastily tied race boots. He folds his legs to sit criss cross and places his palms on his knees. The familiar pose already has some of the tension leaving his shoulders as his eyes slide shut. He breathes in for ten seconds, reflecting on what ails him. He holds the breath for five seconds before releasing it slowly.

He repeats the process until he comes to terms with the fact that you won't be wishing him luck. That was your choice; there was nothing he could do about it and therefore no sense reading into it. He had done all he could to convince you to trust him. The ball was in your court; he had to be patient and wait for you to take a shot.

“Focus,” he murmurs to himself, forcing any erroneous thoughts from his head. “Walk through the track.”

The circuit at Austin was challenging, consisting of a mix of 20 sweeping corners and scattered hairpins. He was almost lucky in a way to be starting so far back on the grid because turn one was only a few hundred meters from pole and their tires would be slightly colder and less grippy upon arrival than his would be. The few extra seconds afforded to him by starting thirteenth could mean the opportunity to leap frog past his rivals in the first corner.

The counterclockwise circuit meant he would have to keep an eye on his front left tire too, as it would wear faster than the others. He'd change gears an average of 66 times per lap, higher than similar length tracks like Monaco. Pit stops cost an average of nineteen seconds, meaning he would need to build a significant gap to the driver chasing him in order to avoid the threat of any undercuts.

There were too many variables occupying space in his mind to afford you a sliver of it.

Some time later he decides that his four leaf clover tucked safely in the worn leather of his wallet will provide all the luck he needs and switches on his pre race playlist after popping in his ear buds.

"Sights on the podium," he murmurs to himself, hand on the doorknob. "Let's race."

The bass flows through him as his feet carry him to the Alpha Tauri garage on autopilot, through the back entrance and to his plain white driver room. The familiar beats are a numbing salve spread on his frayed nerves, his anticipation rising like a crimson wave in his veins. He leaves his clothes in a haphazard heap in the corner and changes into the white fireproofs hanging nearby, thoughts momentarily veering to you knocking on the door and stripping them right back off.

Shaking his head to clear his mind, he runs through his usual stretch sets until Pyry arrives to walk him through reflex exercises.

"How's your head?" Pyry asks, running him through more cool down stretches. "Do we need to take a minute and do some meditation?"

"Beat you to it," Pierre grunts out, pushing back against the hand on his head to work his neck. "I'm good."

"You sound better than you have all week, I'll give you that. Keep that focus, use it to propel yourself forward."

"Run me through the lineup again," Pierre requests, "I need something else to think about."

Because if he let his mind follow the path it wanted to, it would inevitably lead to you and undo the work he had done to avoid that. He needed to be empty of anything that wasn't racing, anything else was an unnecessary distraction that had the potential to end in disaster.

Pyry rattles off the grid in order of who Pierre needs to overtake, pausing between each name to give him time to recall their driving styles and potential chinks in their armor to exploit. He knew from tapes of previous years that Stroll often ran wide into turn one, giving Pierre the option to brake late and sweep up the inside. Vettel was half convinced the track was cursed, so his mind would work against him enough that Pierre could exploit it and get past at some point. He continued until he got to Hamilton and Max locking out the front row, where he would need a bit of luck to overtake.

"You got it?" Pyry asks, stepping back.

Pierre rolls his shoulders and nods. 

"Get shit done mate," Pyry says and bumps fists with his driver. He slips out to allow Pierre a moment to center himself before slipping into his race suit, leaving it half unzipped and tying it around his waist before following his trainer.

Pyry leads the way to where the matte navy and white car waits, mechanics swarming it like studious worker bees tending to their queen. No one talks to him save his engineer because words from anyone else threaten to break his carefully constructed race mentality. If they wanted him to bring home points, they knew to leave him alone once he was suited up.

His mind is blank of anything but statistics as he twists his ear buds in and pulls on his balaclava and helmet. As his vision narrows to the sliver of track he can see through his visor, so does his focus. With forty minutes to lights out, he's directed out onto the track. He rips the wheel to the right as he exits the garage, getting a decent powerslide for his efforts.

There was no doubt in his mind that he would land on the podium, if only to see the look on your face when he did.

**********

It took an unfathomable amount of restraint to keep yourself from calling Pierre to wish him luck.

You texted Max instead, wishing him a safe and comfortable podium a half hour before lights out. He hadn't responded, likely already in the garage with his trainer going through his pre race routine.

The pace Max had set the day before had awarded him pole position and the margin between him and Hamilton had been enough that you were confident in his ability to hold off the Mercedes for all fifty six laps.

If you were honest with yourself, you were disappointed that the Alpha Tauri you so desperately tried to ignore would be starting in thirteenth. You try not to think about it, instead queueing up SkySports and opening your laptop for pre race coverage. You avoid the interviews in favor of listening to the commentators analyze the grid.

"It should be an easy win for Max as long as he fends off Hamilton until the first round of pit stops. The undercut works well here, as Red Bull proved last year, and I'm sure they plan on doing the same thing this year."

You hum in agreement, gingerly sipping your steaming tea. You really ought to consider a career as a sportscaster at this point based on how often you came to the same conclusions they did.

"I think one of the biggest shakeups is Russell starting all the way up in eleventh after his amazing qualifying for Williams yesterday. Think he can hold onto that position?"

"He's got some fierce competition not far behind in the form of Alpha Tauri. Gasly starts thirteenth- surprisingly far back on the grid given the otherwise flawless performance he's shown this year. But it seems likely that he should be able to overtake-"

You flick the tv on mute, unable to stomach listening to them sing his praises. You numb your mind with social media until the Formula 1 theme plays on your laptop, alerting you that there's a few minutes until race start. Tire blankets are peeled off and the drivers weave their way through the formation lap with the exception of Kimi who takes his traditional straight line approach to warm up his supersoft tires. 

Most of the front runners are on ultrasofts, indicating a two stop strategy. It was Pirelli's recommended approach, and you were glad that Horner heeded their advice for once and let Max use the ultras in Q2. It would give Max the upper hand over Hamilton who starts on the yellow sidewall tire and thus slightly slower lap times.

Crofty and Brundle break down the notable turns as the cars line up on the grid, pointing out the sharp hairpin only a few hundred meters from pole position. If Max got away clean, he would be ahead of the cramped pack and have an even better edge over the silver arrows who would be forced to queue behind him.

The traditional "lights out and away we go" kicks off the grand prix, engines roaring into the first turn. Max does manage to get away clean and is awarded with an immediate advantage. Turn one proves tragic for the Alfa Romeo of Raikonnen and the Asthon Martin of Stroll who collide and cause Kimi to spin. They rejoin at the back of the pack, your eyes snagging on the navy and white of an Alpha Tauri as it streams past. 

Your heart spins in a similar fashion when the GAS driver tag leaps up two places in the timing table, suddenly in eleventh due to the incident. Your gaze snaps to the laptop humming on your legs before you remember its Max's driver cam you queued up. The Dutchman is silent as his engineer relays information about the incident and informs him of the widening gap between those chasing him. 

“Confirm received,” Gianpiero says calmly. No matter the situation or how heated Max got, he always kept his head. It was what made the duo such a good match and had likely kept Max from going off the rails on more than one occasion.

“Yeah,” Max says shortly, clearly pissed about how quickly Hamilton was approaching. “Let me know when I’ve got enough charge to get out of range.”

“Yep, will do. Just keep this pace and you’ll hold him at bay.”

Live coverage replays the incident between Stroll and Raikonnen from the view of onboard with Pierre. The instant the 10 on the halo appears in the center of your screen you suck in a breath. He yanks the wheel to avoid colliding with Ocon, who had to do the same to keep from hitting his teammate as they navigate through the carnage.

You chew on your lip and try to refocus on the battle between the front runners. Not much is happening in the midfield for the next thirty or so laps and Max just barely manages to build a solid enough gap between himself and Hamilton to dive into the pits comfortably without losing places. 

Your phone rings and you answer it without checking who it was as the only person you wouldn't answer was currently occupied.

"Hello?"

"Why the fuck didn't they pit Daniel?!"

You grin, noting the blistering beginning on his front left tire as SkySports switches to his onboard camera. "Because he's about to pass Charles," you tell Dan's girlfriend. She didn't call you often during races. It was likely that she knew you were nearing your wits end and this was her way of offering support.

"He won't be able to with those tires- oh." She breaks off when Daniel passes a DRS detection zone and his rear wing opens, allowing him to pass the Monegasque with ease. 

"Told you," you say with a touch of reprimand. "You're always too nervous about those things. Daniel knows how to drive, just trust him to get the job done and he'll bring home another trophy for your apartment."

"I don't live here," she points out and you roll your eyes. She had lived in London as long as you had known her, but she was almost always at Daniel's apartment whether he was in town or not. Daniel digs in as the camera follows him for a lap, highlighting the widening gap between the McLaren and the Ferrari.

"You basically do. At this point, you're paying rent for a dusty one bedroom apartment on the east side that you set foot in maybe once a month." She scoffs but you push on, "a waste of sterling if you ask me, when you're at Daniel's every time I ask you to do anything."

"You act like I never- there goes Pierre!"

His name sparks dread in your gut as your attention flicks back to the screen in time to see him overtake Bottas on the inside of turn one. He'd managed to claw up to fifth with the move, somehow gaining places while you weren't looking.

"Good for him," you croak, trying your best to be genuinely happy for him. He was pushing the car to the limit and you'd be amazed if he didn't wind up on the podium along with Dan and Max. Charles and Hamilton were the only ones in his way, and something told you Charles wouldn’t put up much of a fight when his mate reached his gearbox. Hamilton would prove a challenge but he had been making tiny mistakes all day. Nothing significant, though enough to add up to him barely holding onto second while Daniel rode his gearbox.

"He's got ten laps to get past those two," she murmurs as if momentarily forgetting you were on the phone. 

"Can we talk about literally anything else please?" You whisper, half tempted to shut off the race completely. 

"Babe, you have to face the music at some point. Either you never want to see him again or you love him, which is it?"

She never failed to be anything but brutally honest. You appreciate it because everyone else let you brush off your problems, but she called you on your bullshit. She would needle you about it until you folded.

"I think it's better for both of us if I pretend we never met, don't you?"

"Easier for you, yes," she agrees. "But it'll kill Pierre. You don't think you could keep in touch with him, just as friends?"

"I don't know if I can handle that. I can barely look at him without wanting to bawl my eyes out."

She sighs, pausing to contemplate what to say. Voice soft, she continues, "Why don't you just take him back? Clearly it's ruining both of you. Are you really gonna let the press wreck the best you ever had? I know its hard but-"

"I'm not like you," you cut in. "I can't just ignore the articles and the comments and pretend there aren't people out there that hate me for being with him. They came to my house, disrupted my family. Hell, Ben can't even go to school without being mobbed by his classmates demanding answers. If my suffering is what allows my family to go about their lives then so be it."

"If that's what you wanna believe."

You sigh, tangling your fingers in the hem of your shirt. "It is."

"Alright," she says, voice teetering on a knife's edge. "I know better than to try to change your mind when you're like this. He's on the podium by the way. Oh, and watch what you say to Max- Pierre will read into it."

She hangs up without a goodbye, leaving you to deal with the realization that the podium is indeed VER RIC GAS on your own. Your eyes are glued to the Red Bull and McLaren drivers, blatantly ignoring the one in the white suit as the anthems play and the champagne is sprayed, turning away to busy yourself with making coffee when Daniel hands his liquid filled race boot to third place.

You weren't quite sure how you were supposed to watch what you said to Max- there was no reason to in your mind. Max was your next closest friend on the grid and you had every right to congratulate him if you wanted to.

Resolute in your decision, you text Max and Daniel a quick congratulations before shutting off the TV and closing your laptop.

Max's insane custom ringtone he'd selected for himself nearly makes you jump out of your skin when it blares from your phone.

"Hey great race-"

"Did you see it? I wasn't sure if you'd watch it- did you see my move on Hamilton when he tried to get past me?" He was talking a mile a minute like he was still out on track. "I was like- and then Dan tried to overtake me on the final lap and I was like no way! And then-"

"Max," you chime in, dragging out the 'a' with a sing-song voice. "You're rambling."

"Oh right. Yeah but I made it! Led every lap and finished with another win."

"That's great." You force as much enthusiasm in the words as possible, trying to match his chaotic energy. "You did great. I know it probably doesn't mean much, but I'm proud to be your friend. You beat a world champ!"

"It means a lot-" 

"Who's that?"

You stiffen at the familiar cadence. You had assumed Max was back in the garage when he called, but he must have still been in the podium room. You could picture him in his race suit, smudges of grease and dirt staining the pristine white. Beads of sweat probably ran down his neck, begging to be brushed away by your tongue. 

"Uh, no one," Max says in a lame attempt to cover up his digression. "I gotta go," he whispers to you. 

"Let me talk-"

"Wait don't," you start, but the call ends abruptly and you blink. You stare down at your phone, completely dumbfounded. Of course his instinct would be to talk to you, to share the euphoria of a podium with you. It was the first victory in three years he wouldn't have you to celebrate with.

It was only a matter of time until his resolve popped like the cork on his champagne.

**********

Pierre's phone is in his hand as soon as Max hangs up. He hefts his trophy in the other, a wild grin on his sweaty face as he snaps a picture. He makes sure he's the only one in the frame, shamelessly wanting himself to be the center of your attention.

"Mate," Daniel pipes up, catching his eye, "you think that's a good idea?" 

Pierre sighs, cutting the Australian a glare. "I'm just trying to fill her in."

"Wasn't your plan to give her space?"

"It's been a week, isn't that long enough?"

"Take it from me, sometimes it takes months for someone to figure things out. Hell, you know how long it took me to sort through my feelings for-"

"I know," Pierre cuts in. "I know. I just- a snap can't hurt can it? C'mon, I just got a podium! If it goes bad I can blame it on the post race jitters."

Daniel holds up his hands and shrugs. "You're a grown man. Do what you want."

Pierre studies the photo, scrutinizing the way his hair was plastered to his head and the awkward way he'd posed to keep anyone but himself out of the frame. It's his genuine smile that he knows will do you in, and ultimately the reason he sends it.

His phone is a lead weight clutched in his grip as he winds through the paddock, constantly stopped by vips and team members congratulating him. None of what anyone says registers, he just tries his best to match their mood and sputter praises about his team's contributions to his podium. 

The snap you finally send back is only from the eyes up, but it's enough. He's surrounded by people in his driver room, but for ten seconds it might as well have just been him staring at a sliver of your face on a screen.

The tiny lines at the corners of your shining eyes tell him you're smiling, which is a step in the right direction even if you won't let him see your entire face. It's enough to reignite the hope that slumbered in his chest while waiting for you to pull the trigger and make a move.

He sends back a video of the people in the room, who cheer when they realize they're being filmed. 'Wish you were here,' is what he captions it and sends it without giving himself a chance to overthink.

Ten minutes pass with no reply.

The beer he’s already consumed have given him a pleasant buzz as well as an excuse to make a bad decision or two. He takes another video of the room to post to his Instagram story, 'Missing you' written in the lower left corner.

Fuck, he hopes you'll see it and regret leaving him on read. Instead all he gets is a text from Charles chastising him for stirring up drama.

Really Pierre?

Blame it on the alcohol, he texts back. 

I know you aren’t drunk. You can’t form a coherent sentence when you are.

Guess i gotta drink more then

Pierre doesn’t turn anyone bearing alcohol away. He's two celebratory shots deep when Daniel finds him sulking in a corner. "You've got my girl texting me freaking out over your story. I've seen it and I gotta agree with her. Was that really necessary?"

"She left me on read," Pierre says like that was enough explanation. His head was spinning and it was getting hard to keep the room upright. "And it's the truth. I miss her like hell. I want her here. She was supposed to come, you know? I was gonna have her fly in with me on the jet. She doesn't start class again until June. I had this whole week planned out. I was gonna show her Texas- she’s from New York and..." 

He trails off when he notes Dan’s pitying smile. Daniel sighs and runs a hand through his curls. "I know. I get it, okay? I know it's hard but you can't force it. You've gotta let her come back on her own, all you're doing now is pushing her away."

He was fucking clueless when it came to these things. He'd had you for a few precious moments and now that he'd lost you he didn't know how to act. His mind was running on hazy autopilot; he barely knew which way was up, let alone did he trust himself to make any sort of important decision.

He stares down at the shot he'd been handed at some point before throwing it back. The cheap whiskey burns his throat but he barely registers the sting. "Should I take it down?"

"She already saw it," Daniel says gently, as if he anticipates how bad the fuck up will hurt. And it does. It hits him like a tire wall at two hundred kph, knowing that you were probably ranting or crying on the phone with Daniel’s girlfriend. "But yeah, that's probably best. People are already wondering what happened between you two, no need to throw fuel on the fire."

"You're probably right-" Pierre cuts off when Charles arrives with a grimace on his face. He shakes his head and gives his friend’s shoulder a squeeze. 

"For once I'm not the dumb one."

"You're a dick, you know that right?" Daniel says, allowing Pierre to delete the post. It takes him a few tries before he gets it down, but undeniably rumors will be circulating in the morning if they weren’t already.

"Honestly what were you thinking?" Charles demands, edging towards full blown yelling. "I told you to leave her be. The gossip stemming from this isn’t gonna help.”

The last thing he needed was someone else telling him how stupid his decision had been. At least Daniel had the decency to show sympathy. 

"Honestly?" Pierre responds with the same intensity, his anger flaring. "Honestly, Charles, I was thinking that she was happy for me but was too afraid to take the leap. She haunts me. Every second I’m awake I have to force myself away from her. Even when I’m asleep I can’t get away from her. So I don’t know, maybe I wanted to haunt her too."

“This isn’t the way you win her back and you know it.”

“I know!” Pierre throws up his hands. “But what else am I supposed to do? She won’t talk to me. She has no problem talking to Max or Daniel but apparently she draws the line at me.”

“You know it’s not-” Daniel's eyes flick to his phone and he fights back a grin. All it does is remind Pierre that he lost the person that could bring that sort of smile to his own face. "Fellas I wish I could stay and help but I gotta get going. Charles, I think Pierre needs another drink." He slaps five American dollars in the Monegasque's hand. "First one is on me."

Pierre is too deep in a spiral to care when his friend drags him from the party to a bar just south of the circuit. Somehow it was within walking distance; the floor was sticky and the lighting was for shit but he didn't care.

Pierre's focus was on downing shot after shot, erasing the broken image of you his mind had conjured up. He never should have posted the story. It only served to feed into what the media had been speculating for the past week and dredged up more tension between you.

Pierre stops checking his phone two shots later. The liquor provides a wet blanket over his senses, dousing him in cold water and scrambling his brain. He could barely remember his own name, but yours still lived in the corner of his mind.

Even drunk, he refused to forget you.

Two hours and who knows how much alcohol later, Charles helps Pierre back to his hotel room.

Pierre falls asleep as soon as he hits the mattress, head too blurry to dredge up memories of you.

[plaidbooks]

The R Drug part 2

A/N: I promise I still have summer bingo fics ready to go, but this idea wouldn’t leave me alone, so here it is. This is a part 2 to The R Drug, and is a lot of talking and exposition, and a lot of Sonny hating himself. This will most likely get a part 3. No chapter will ever be darkfic or as dark as the first one was. It’s only up from here.

Tags: self-loathing, mentions of rape (like, one line--references first fic heavily) and therapy, otherwise none, just a lot of angst with a maybe happy ending?

Words: 4657

Taglist:  @witches-unruly-heart  @beccabarba @thatesqcrush @itsjustmyfantasyroom @permanentlydizzy  @ben-c-group-therapy @infiniteoddball @glowingmess @whimsicallymad @lv7867  @storiesofsvu @cycat4077 @alwaysachorusgirl @glimmerglittergirl @joanofarkansass @redlipstickandblacktea @caracalwithchips @berniesilvas​  @reading--mermaid  @averyhotchner  @mrsrafaelbarba @detective-giggles @crowleysqueenofhell @dreamlover31

For the first few days, you sat on the couch in pain and exhaustion, wallowing in self-pity and self-loathing. The doctor said that you were severely dehydrated and had kept both you and Sonny overnight after the club, though separated. Olivia and Amanda interviewed you, while Fin interviewed Sonny. You were both then sent on leave until you could come back to work…if you could come back at all.

Thankfully, you weren’t pregnant. But you were sore, every movement causing aches and pains as you shuffled around your apartment. Obviously, you weren’t pressing charges, and neither was Sonny; what happened was a freak accident, something you never wanted to think about again, but knew you’d have to in order to move past it.

When you could finally walk normally again, you went to a therapist. It took a while to find a groove; therapists specializing in rape victims had trouble dealing with the fact that while yes, you were a victim, you were also a perpetrator. The other strange thing was that you weren’t angry with Sonny; you were angry with yourself. You assaulted him, just as he assaulted you. And that was the part that was eating you up inside.

It took months of therapy, going every day and working through your confused and frustrated emotions before you finally came to terms with what had happened. You were ready to put your badge and gun back on, ready to move on with your life. You missed your job, your squad. But most of all, you missed Sonny. He was your best friend before all of this happened, and you hadn’t seen nor talked to him since the club. You missed his boyish charm, his bright smile and his loud laugh. You missed the little inside jokes you had together, and the late nights spent curled on the couch, watching reality TV and sports. You missed your Sonny.

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

On Monday morning, four months after the club incident, you made your way into the familiar precinct. You were heading for Olivia’s office when you stopped short. Both Amanda and Fin were at their desks like normal. Even your desk was how you left it; a few photos, baskets to hold paperwork, little knick-knacks that made it yours. But Sonny’s desk, the one next to yours, was completely different. There wasn’t a single photo of any Carisi, no Mets or Islanders memorabilia, no nothing that made it his. Instead, there was a picture of two men, one you didn’t recognize posing with…Deputy Chief Dodds?

Before you could ask questions, Amanda said, “that’s Mike Dodds’s desk. He’s the new Sergeant.”

“Where’s Carisi’s desk,” you asked, turning to look at her.

But it was Fin who answered. “He doesn’t have one.” You swore you got whiplash turning to look at Fin so quickly. “He turned in his badge and gun months ago…just after the club fiasco.”

“What?” you almost yelled. You were loud enough that Olivia heard you, and she and the new guy—Mike?—came out of her office. She beckoned you to her office, and you passed by Mike, who tried to give you a smile that you did not return.

“Welcome back—” Olivia started before you cut her off.

“Carisi’s gone?!”

She closed the door behind you before taking a seat at her desk. She motioned for you to sit, and you all but collapsed into the chair. “I tried to keep him, to talk him out of quitting. But he refused, saying he needed to work through things. I’m sorry, but there was nothing I could do.”

You stared in disbelief at the top of her desk. Sonny was gone. You had to talk to him, had to see him. You said as much to Liv.

“If you think you can get through to him, then by all means. Because it’s been hard around here not having two of my best detectives,” she replied. “Dodds has been a godsend, but he doesn’t replace either of you, and especially not both of you.”

You nodded. “I’ll talk to him, try and bring him back.”

“I wish you luck. I think he’ll listen to you; you were close before…all this.”

 **********************

After leaving the precinct, you tried texting and calling Sonny, but to no avail. In fact, it was going straight to voicemail, as if his phone were dead or off. So, you swung by his apartment. You buzzed his place, but a deep, gruff man answered.

“I just moved in a few months ago; the previous owner seemed to be in a hurry to move out,” he said. Clinging to the hope that this was still Sonny just trying to put on a fake accent, you buzzed a neighbor. But they confirmed that Sonny had moved out a couple months ago, and that a new tenant moved in.

Out of desperation, you tracked down a phone book, and looked up his parent’s place. Then you took the drive out to Staten Island. You shifted nervously on the porch, waiting for an answer after knocking.

A woman in her 60s, who could only be Mrs. Carisi, answered. Her eyes darted to your waistband, the badge there, then back to yours. You watched them slowly fill with tears.

“Please, don’t tell me yet,” she muttered, and you furrowed your brow. “Don’t tell me my Bambino is…is…” she hiccupped, and you understood; she thought you were here to deliver the news that Sonny was dead.

“No, no! I’m actually…I’m Carisi’s partner…or I was. I’m just…having a hell of a time tracking him down,” you quickly explained.

She sniffled, trying to compose herself. “Well, I hope you do find him.”

“You mean…you don’t know where he is?” you asked, heart sinking.

She shook her head. “He told us he needed some time, and that he’d be in touch. That was the last we saw or heard from him, and that was back in March.” It was June now, and you were realizing that this was going to be a lot harder than you thought.

You nodded, muttering out an apology for bothering her as you turned away, but she grabbed your wrist, stopping you. “Please, if you find Sonny, tell him we love him. And that we want him to come home.”

“Of course,” you replied before leaving, holding back tears until you were back in your car.

 ****************

Your first real clue as to where Sonny went came through looking at his bank statements. There, you found a one-way trip to Genoa, Italy. Without too much thought behind it, you booked a flight, texted Olivia your intentions, then headed to the airport. In your hurry, you didn’t pack, didn’t even book a place to stay. You only had one thing on your mind, and it was to find Sonny Carisi.

With the clothes on your back, your phone, passport, and wallet full of bills that you converted to euros, you got on the one-way trip to Genoa.

 ***************

You barely slept on the plane, landing early in the morning. The sun was just peaking over the beautiful Italian landscape. Even in your exhaustion and worry, you had to stop and appreciate the architecture of a different country. Genoa was beautiful, and you’d be enjoying yourself if the drive to find your missing partner wasn’t so high. You had a picture of him on your phone, and you went around, asking everyone you passed by if they had seen him. At first, you were asking in English—you didn’t know Italian. But eventually, you learned the phrases you needed.

“L'hai visto?” you asked desperately.

You understood “no,” and saw the look of sadness on their faces.

“Grazie,” you replied, moving on.

You must’ve asked hundreds of people. The sun was high in the sky, and you felt a hopelessness in your fruitless search. Why did you ever think you’d find him? There was a good chance he wasn’t even in Genoa anymore; he could’ve landed and moved somewhere more isolated. You had nothing to go on, and your voice and face took on a pleading, desperate tone. You must’ve looked like an unhinged person, asking the same question over and over again while pointing frantically to your phone screen.

Another thought came to you in the form of a growling stomach. You hadn’t eaten, hadn’t had so much as a sip of water since you got off the plane. Which then led you to think about what you were going to do once the sun went down. You didn’t have a whole lot of money on you, and you didn’t know how much anything cost.

“I’m such a fucking idiot,” you muttered to yourself in frustrated hopelessness. You sat down hard on a bench, cursing yourself for not thinking this through better.

A woman came over to you; she looked somewhat familiar. You must’ve talked to her before. But she started speaking rapid Italian to you. You gave her a puzzled look, brow furrowed. You tried to express that you didn’t speak Italian, and she stopped, her face contorted as she thought.

“Man,” she said in slow, pronounced English. She pointed to her left. “Man...you want?”

You followed her finger and froze when you saw the tall, lanky frame of Sonny through a shop window. You jumped to your feet, shouting a “thank you!” to her as you ran on tired legs to the shop. Sonny was just paying for groceries, and was heading out of the shop when you reached him.

His eyes widened as he saw you, guilt flooding his eyes. “...[y/n]?” he asked. “What’re you doing here?”

“Looking for you,” you replied, grinning. “I thought I’d never find you.”

He gave you a hard look. “I wish you didn’t,” he muttered before turning to leave.

You stared in disbelief as he walked down the street, bag in his arms. Snapping yourself out of it, you hurried after him. “Carisi, what are you doing here in Italy?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” he asked, not breaking in his stride. You struggled to keep up with his long legs, your body and mind exhausted. “I’m trying to start over, away from my past.”

You pushed yourself to get in front of him, cutting him off. “You can’t just—just run away.... Don’t I...don’t we mean anything to you? The squad, your family—”

“Of course you do,” he replied, eyes softening for a moment. “That’s why I left.”

You looked at him, eyes pleading. “Look, Dom, I know what happened was...traumatic. But—”

“I’m not talking about that. Not now, not ever.” And then he was walking again, easily stepping around you. “Please, just go home,” he called over his shoulder to you.

You watched him retreat for a moment before heading after him again. “Dominick, you need to talk about it, if not to me, than to someone else. But you can’t bury it down, move on like nothing ever happened.”

Sonny whipped around to glare at you, face hard. “Like nothing ever happened? You think that’s what I’m doing?” He shook his head, huffing. “I’ll never stop thinking about it! This will haunt me to my grave! And when I’m burning in Hell, I’ll know why.”

It broke your heart to see him like this. “Please, listen to me. You need to work through this. It took me months to come to terms with my actions, and I know you can do it, too.”

“I’m too disgusted with myself,” he replied, shaking his head. “I hate myself too much for what I did to you.”

He tried to turn away again, but you grabbed his shoulder, stopping him. He flinched at the contact, pulling away from your touch, and you let your hand fall. “I hated me, too. Still do sometimes. But it wasn’t our fault; we were drugged. There was nothing we could do—”

“I could’ve fought it. I could’ve controlled myself.”

“And what, I couldn’t?” you shot back. Sonny’s eyes widened at your outburst. “If you hate yourself so much, then you must hate me, too. I did the same thing you did.”

He was quiet for a moment, eyes scanning yours. “I could never hate you.”

“Then why are you so hellbent on hating yourself, but not me?”

“Because I...” he trailed off, thinking through his words. You could tell there was something he wanted to say, but instead he whispered, “I don’t know.”

You moved closer to him. “Then please, let me help you.” You didn’t make the mistake of touching him again, instead just gazing deeply into his eyes.

Sonny sighed heavily, regripping the bag in his arms. “Yeah, okay. But...let me sleep on it, first?” He saw the skeptical look you gave him, and he quickly added, “I promise I won’t run away again. I just...I need time to process things. Where are you staying? I can swing by in the morning.”

“Uhh...” you said, looking at the ground.

“...please tell me you have a place to stay.”

You shifted uncomfortably. “I was going to try and find a place, soon?” you tried.

You could see the inner struggle he had as he fought himself. “I could...you could stay with me, if you want.... That is, if you feel safe with me...if you can trust me.”

“Dominick, I trust you with my life,” you said softly.

His eyes widened for a moment. “Yeah...okay. Follow me.”

 ****************

Sonny lived in a small apartment. Though it was a little smaller than his place in Manhattan, it was absolutely stunning, the view from his window gorgeous. It was simply furnished, yet it still somehow felt like...Sonny. He put his grocery bag down on the little counter that acted like an island in a kitchen. In reality, it was just a piece that separated the kitchen from the living room.

“Have you eaten?” he asked as he put his things away.

You stomach grumbled loudly in response. “Uh, no,” you muttered, embarrassed.

Sonny gave you a look. “So, let me get this straight. I can tell by your no luggage or place to stay that you just flew to Genoa with absolutely no backup plan? What if you didn’t find me? What if I went to Vernazza or something?”

You smiled sheepishly. “I wasn’t in the best state of mind, okay? I was worried about you; no one had heard from you, not even your parents. And your phone just went to voicemail.”

He sighed. “I left my phone in New York; I didn’t want it. Maybe I also wasn’t in the best state of mind when I left.”

You dug your phone out of your pocket; you only had 10% left on it. You unlocked it, then shoved it towards him. “You need to call your parents. Your mom is heartbroken, and asked me to tell you that she loves you. But I think it would be better coming from her directly to you.”

Tears filled his eyes as he took your phone from you. “If I do, then it’ll kill your phone battery. There’s no way the call would be less than five hours long.”

“Call them,” you urged. You could buy a phone charger in the morning. Sonny sighed, dialing the number. “I’ll give you some privacy,” you whispered, heading outside. You heard a soft, “hey ma; it’s me,” before you closed the front door behind you.

You were so relieved to have found Sonny. Sure, he was still broken and hurt, but you knew you could help him find himself, pull himself back from the darkness in his mind. You just didn’t know how long it would take, how long you’d be in Italy for. You didn’t want to rush him, couldn’t rush him if you tried. And you knew a lot of this would be an internal battle, something you knew intimately well based on your own experience. In the end, he’d have to find the strength to forgive himself on his own before he could move on. You sighed, looking up into the dark clouds above you, the muggy heat making your skin sticky.

 *********************

Sonny came and got you about an hour later. His eyes were rimmed red, but it seemed as though a weight had lifted off him as he handed back your now dead phone.

“Sorry; I can buy you a charger in the morning,” he muttered, leading you back inside.

You shook your head, smiling softly. “Don’t worry about it.”

You both ate dinner in silence; Sonny was pensive, thinking, while you were starving and shoveling the delicious food into your mouth. Once you finished—your huge bites compared to his little nibbles had you finishing in record time—you took your dishes to the kitchen and started cleaning them.

“I can do that—” Sonny started before you cut him off.

“It’s fine; you cook, I clean.” It was your rule back in Manhattan, and Sonny smiled softly at the memories of you both in his kitchen.

“Look, Sonny, I know you said you don’t want to talk—and that’s fine! But, if you ever do want to talk, I’m here, willing to listen,” you said. You scrubbed at your plate with the sponge, forcing yourself to not turn and look at him.

He sat in silence for what seemed like an eternity. You resolutely stayed facing the sink, washing a now clean dish, waiting for a response that may not come.

“I...I know it was R. I know it was. But I just...I can’t stop the self-loathing I feel,” he said so quietly, you barely heard him over the water in the sink.

Slowly, you turned the water off, then turned to face him. “I know. It took me months to not hate myself. To not blame myself.”

Sonny took a deep breath, then rubbed his eyes. “I never asked; how are you?”

You knew he didn’t mean in general. “I was very sore and exhausted the first week. I was stuck in a downward spiral. But the thing about hitting rock bottom is that you can only go up.” You sighed. “I’m doing better. I doubt I’ll ever be 100% me again. But I’m working every day to get closer.”

He nodded, thinking. “See, I feel like I hit rock bottom, then grabbed a shovel. I’m still fighting to get back to rock bottom.”

“Well, just know that I do not blame you in any way. All the anger and hatred I felt was directed at myself,” you huffed out an emotionless chuckle. “In fact, you hardly came up in my therapy sessions at all. Just that I hated myself for doing that to you.”

Sonny stood then, bringing his own dishes into the kitchen. “I never blamed you, either; still don’t. I—I guess because I’m bigger and because I was...on top, I blame myself instead. I didn’t even consider the fact that you got drugged, too....”

“That’s the thing; I know you. And I know myself. Neither of us...that wouldn’t have happened without outside forces making us do it. Like I said, I trust you with my life, Sonny. And while I understand why you turned your badge in, I really would like my partner back one day,” you said, hope tinging your voice.

He reached past you to put his plate in the sink, and you gazed up at him. This was the closest you’ve been since that night in the club, his face inches from yours, bright blue eyes boring into your own. For a moment, it was like nothing had happened. You could pretend that you were in Sonny’s Manhattan apartment, having just finished dinner he made, Love Island playing on his TV. But then reality set in, and Sonny backed away from you, a look of guilt in his eyes.

“M—maybe one day. But I’m not sure I want to go back to that line of work yet,” he muttered, looking at the floor.

You nodded. “I understand—” you were cut off by a loud clap of thunder, sounding directly above you. You dropped the plate you were rinsing off into the sink, the clatter loud in the shocked silence.

Sonny looked from the ceiling to you, saw your petrified look. He knew you hated storms, would often get a call at 1am from you, asking to come over when a thunderstorm rolled in. When he saw you on the streets of Genoa, he didn’t connect that Italy had some of the most intense thunderstorms in the world.

“Hey, it’s okay; I’m here,” he murmured out of instinct; the words he would say back home to you.

You were trembling, tears in your eyes. “S-Sonny, I—”

Another loud rumbling resounded through the apartment, and he saw you shrink in on yourself, slowly dropping to the floor, curling around your legs. You tucked your face against your knees, shaking with quiet sobs. He came over to you, kneeling in front of you. Normally, he’d wrap you tightly in his arms, whispering to you that you were safe. But now, he was afraid to touch you.

“Dominick, I trust you with my life,” he remembered you saying, with no hesitation. Swallowing the thoughts propelled by self-loathing, he placed a hand on your shoulder. He knew he wouldn’t assault you, wouldn’t do anything without your consent, so why the hell was he hesitating when you needed him?

“Come on; let’s get you into bed, okay?” Sonny whispered to you. You nodded without looking up. Gently, he unfolded your limbs, helping you to your feet. He had been planning to sleep on the couch, give you his bed. Now, though, he was leading you to his bedroom quickly, trying to make it before more thunder sounded.

He got you into his bed just as another clap of thunder shook the walls. You pulled the covers over your head, tucking down as hard as possible into the bed. Sonny climbed into bed next to you, laying on top of the covers. Gently, he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you back against him. He could feel you trembling, the whole bed shaking. What else could he do besides what he normally did?

“It’s okay; you’re safe. I got you,” he whispered, rubbing your arm over the blanket. You rolled over until you were facing him, and curled in against his chest. Sonny stiffened for only a moment before relaxing in the familiar position.

“I hate storms,” you choked out, tucking your face into his shirt.

He rubbed your back in comfort. “I know you do. It’ll be gone soon enough.”

But unlike Manhattan, where that may be true, thunderstorms in Genoa lasted hours. Simply because you didn’t sleep the night before, you were able to drift off in Sonny’s embrace. You’d jerk awake every time a clap of thunder was heard, though, shaking and sobbing softly as he murmured sweet words to you before succumbing to sleep again.

Sonny, however, didn’t sleep a wink. He was too lost in thought, holding you to him. You trusted him enough to sleep in the same bed, his arms around you, even after everything that happened. You didn’t blame him, felt no hatred towards him. And while most of his problem stemmed from his own self-hatred, he was always afraid that you felt the same way about him. And he couldn’t deal with that, couldn’t stand it. Not when he—

He almost said it out on the street earlier, when you asked him if he hated you. He almost told you that he loved you, had come so close. In fact, he was planning on asking you out after work that day. The day that changed his life forever, and not in the way he had been hoping. If only Liv hadn’t called you both into her office that day, then maybe there would still be a chance....

But he could never tell you, not now. How would you even begin a relationship after this? He was too afraid to even touch you, for Christ’s sake. Though, that was before the thunderstorm started. Now, you were curled against his chest, your trembling stopped for the moment, breathing deep as you slept. His arms were around you, and god he loved it, loved the feeling of you sleeping in his arms, whether from a storm or not. This wasn’t the first time he held you throughout the night, and he loved it every time, regardless of circumstances. But how could anything evolve from this? How could he kiss you? How could you be...intimate together without the memory of the club popping up in either of your minds?

A small part of him whispered that if he could get over his fear of touching you—evident by the cuddling—then he could overcome his other fears, too. But would you want that? Did he?.... Yes, yes he wanted that very much. He wanted to be able to love you without fear and/or guilt in his heart. Before the club, he had thought that his biggest obstacle would be 1PP. Oh how ignorant he had been.

He resolved that he wouldn’t tell you, not now, maybe not ever. He couldn’t, not when this darkness was still inside his head, not when his hatred for himself was so high—

Thunder rolled out, and you jumped, instantly waking. The trembling started again, and you grabbed Sonny’s shirt, pulling him closer to you.

“I got you. You’re okay, you’re safe,” he whispered to you.

But for the first time ever, you responded. “You make me feel safe, Dom,” you muttered back.

At first, he was filled with such a profound warmth and happiness, feeling protective and strong. But then a flash of your face, beet red, your body moving erratically underneath his while loud club music played, and he sunk in on himself. He felt like such an asshole, such a coward, holding you like this. He should’ve left you on the streets in Genoa, closed himself off. Or at least offer to put you up in a hotel or a hostile, not fucking take you home with him. He hated that side of him that couldn’t let you go, almost as much as the hatred of that night in the club.

“What’s wrong?” you asked suddenly. You were still shaking in his grasp, but you noticed he was deep in thought. He had stopped talking, and was humming slightly. Sonny only hummed when he was thinking hard. He didn’t respond right away, unsure of what he’d even say. So, you pressed on, “need me to comfort you?”

Sonny’s expression softened. Here you were, scared out of your mind, but still offering him help. This is one of the main reasons he loved you. “No, I’m fine. Just sleep, okay?” he murmured.

Without thinking about it, he brushed his lips against your forehead, giving you a gentle kiss. You smiled at the gesture, tucking your head against his chest again, quickly finding sleep once more.

But Sonny was silently cursing himself. Why the hell did you kiss her?! he thought in anguish. In truth, he didn’t think, just reacted. He often kissed your forehead in comfort, trying to coax you to sleep. It seemed as if when he turned his brain off, he could rely on instinct, doing things he normally did. But that nagging side of his brain never left him alone for long. Things he used to do that brought him joy, like holding you or kissing your soft skin, now filled him with regret. How was he supposed to move on and leave you behind in New York when he did shit like this?

He sighed, glancing at his clock and seeing that it was only a little past 1am. This was going to be a long night. And he still wasn’t sure what to say to you in the morning.

[mandoalorian]

Sugar and Spice [Maxwell Lord x Reader] - Chapter 10

Summary: When you are evicted from your apartment by your toxic ex boyfriend and have no place to go, who do you turn to? Alone in the city as the countdown to Christmas begins, you find yourself applying for a job as the assistant of the world’s biggest entrepreneur; Maxwell Lord. Little do you know, he has other intentions for you. No doubt about it, this Christmas will truly be like no other.

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: Smut, mentions of a previous verbally abusive relationship, typical 80s misogyny (but very little of it), mentions of food and drink, alcohol consumption. This is a sugardaddy x sugarbaby fic soooo… a daddy k!nk too oops.

But in this chapter - allusions to sex, slow burn and slight angst.

MASTERLIST

PREVIOUS - CHAPTER TEN - NEXT

You hadn't heard Maxwell's faint whisper when he had gotten into the car. You had, however, acknowledged Jeeves brief nod of affirmation when Maxwell sank bank into his seat and clicked his seat belt in place before taking hold of your hand and pressing gentle, comforting kisses along your knuckles. Jeeves had taken the long way back to the penthouse, or so you assumed. There were plenty of detours, and pretty soon you realised he was actually driving you away from the bustling city. Pearly white snow lapped the landscape around you as he drove down the long road, framed by tall bare trees.

"We're leaving the city?" you asked Maxwell, leaning your head into his shoulder. "I thought we were going home."

"We are." Maxwell replied and you furrowed your eyebrows in bewilderment, but opted not to say another word. You didn't need to. You trusted him. The rest of the journey was spent in comfortable silence, you and Max just glad to be in each other's presence once more.

Finally, Jeeves pulled up outside a huge white mansion with pillars bigger than you had ever seen before. It was magnificent, unlike anything you had ever seen before. Your hand not leaving his, Maxwell helped you out of the car and walked you to the front door, reaching into his pants pocket for the keys and unlocking it in one swift movement.

"This is- this is-" you were speechless.

"My home," Maxwell replied with a smile, carefully guiding you into the lobby. You wiped the icy water from your winter boots on the mat before following him down the hallway and into the front room. It was enormous, carpeted. A gorgeous marble fireplace and oil paintings hung up on every corner. Maxwell took a spare key from a fruit bowl and handed it to you. "And, your home. If you'd like."

"Wh- what are you proposing?" you quizzed, your eyes flicking between the silver key and Maxwell.

"I'd feel better knowing that you were here, safe. No one will harass you and you'll be way out of Tristan's reach. Although I'm inclined to believe that he'll be locked away for a very long time. I guess what I'm trying to say is…" Maxwell took a deep, nervous breath. "Move in with me?"

"Here?" your eyes were comically wide in disbelief.

"I understand if you don't like the idea. If you think it's too soon…"

You swung your arms around Maxwell and hugged him tight, burying your face into the warmth of his chest. He hesitantly wrapped his arms around you back. "Yes." you mumbled happily, trying your hardest to hold back tears.

Maxwell spent a good hour giving you a grand tour of the house, and you were enamoured with the sight of every single room. Maxwell loved seeing how awestruck you were. This was all completely normal to him, but you helped him recognise how privileged he was to have such luxury. Maxwell took both of your hands when you had reached the final room of the house, his bedroom. "I know I told you I don't share a bed with… with…" you raised an eyebrow. "You know," he shrugged nervously and you nodded your head understandingly. "But I- I just think it might be nice if…"

You smiled and placed a kiss on his cheek before scowering around and checking out your beautiful bedroom which you shared with Maxwell Lord.

"I can't wait to get settled in." You admitted, your eyes sparkling.

"There is something I have to tell you…" Maxwell frowned and you looked at him with concern. Was this it? Was he finally going to admit his feelings? You had to say it back.

"Me too." you nodded confidently. "But, you first." You said with a small smile and Maxwell took a deep breath.

"I have a business trip and… I'll be out of town for the week leading up until Christmas. I leave tomorrow." Your heart sank. That was not what you were expecting at all. "But if you want me to stay… I can postpone until January. I mean, it'll be hard but- you've been through a lot and. If there's anything you need…"

"Oh," you couldn't help but reply, your brain desperately fumbling to collect the right words. "No, that's okay. I understand." you smiled weakly. You knew how much Maxwell valued his business, and that was okay. You just thought he was going to at least mention his drunken revelation from the previous night.

"I'm glad," Maxwell responded, and there was a short silence. "Uh- do you have plans for Christmas?" Maxwell asked and you shook your head. "Because, I don't really do anything on Christmas but I wouldn't want you to be alone. So maybe…"

You smiled. "You don't do anything on Christmas?" you asked curiously. Maxwell took your hand and pulled you down onto the bed.

"Uh, no. My dad loved Christmas. When I was a kid we'd do all kinds of cool stuff but after he passed… it just wasn't the same. My mother didn't make an effort. Sometimes she'd even leave me with the nanny while she travelled to New York to be with her friends." Maxwell explained, and you appreciated the fact he had most likely never revealed so much information to anyone before.

"That's awful, I'm so sorry." you whispered, leaning into his lap.

"Part of me doesn't want to leave you," Maxwell admitted. "Tomorrow- I mean… but it's Simon Stagg from Stagg Industries. Shit, if I don't go I could lose investment."

"It's okay," you reassured Max who simply just sighed. "I'll miss you."

You felt nervous. It was the first time you had been with Maxwell in such close proximity since realising your true feelings for him. And Max felt the same.

He placed his big hand on your face and ran his finger over your lower lip. "Well, let's make tonight count." he said, his voice low and husky as he leaned in and pressed a passionate kiss into you.

***

You were the first to wake up in the morning as the golden sunlight seeped through your curtains and highlighted your body. It didn't take long for you to realise that you were wrapped in Maxwell's arms, your head buried into his chest as you recalled the amazing night you had before. He was still asleep, light snores escaping his lips and you felt comfort in hearing his heartbeat. You felt safe, like you could live in the moment forever. You also realised this was the first time you had shared a bed with Max— slept together. It was a big deal, especially knowing how he had previously felt about such a thing.

There was one thing still praying on your mind. You and Max had yet to discuss what had been said the night of the gala. You had been desperately waiting for him to bring it up and reaffirm it. Tell you that he did in fact love you. But he hadn't. And you didn't know why. You tried to be optimistic, but it was easy to believe that maybe he wasn't bringing it up because he just didn't feel the same way. Maybe he thought he loved you, but his words were just induced by the actions of his mother, and Bruce, and a landslide consumption of alcohol.

You spent a few moments thinking about it, anxiety twisting in your stomach as you shuffled around uncomfortably. You felt like you had to get out of Max's confined grip; you felt like you couldn't breathe. Max mumbled something incoherent as you broke free and rolled out of bed, rubbing your eyes and grabbing Max's robe to cover your naked body.

"Good morning," he mumbled groggily, adjusting his vision to focus on you. You paced around backwards and forwards by the foot of the bed. "Are you okay?" he quizzed, sensing your stress.

You wanted to say it— you wanted to confront him. Your mouth opened but before you could speak, Kenneth came running in. "Sir, your carpool to the airport is waiting outside."

"Airport?" you raised an eyebrow. "Max, where is the business meeting?"

Max sighed, rubbing his head. "Uh, London," he replied quietly and your eyes went comically wide.

"London?!" you repeated, your voice a little too high and a little too loud. When Max said he was going out of town, you thought he meant a different state at furthest… not a different continent!

"I- I will call you from the hotel every night," Max promised, sitting up and pressing his hands together. "I'll be home for Christmas. And you'll be safe here." Max cleared his throat and turned to Kenneth. "Uh, Ken, do you think we could get a little privacy?" Max requested and Kenneth nodded his head before leaving the room.

Max crawled out of bed and sat you down. "I don't have to go. Just say the words and I won't go." he told you quietly.

"I don't want to be the person who gets between you and your work," you replied sadly. "I'll be okay. Just- I'll miss you."

Max nodded understandingly, taking his wallet from the nightstand and pulling out one of the many Black Gold Cooperative business credit cards he owned. He placed it in your hands. "Remember darling, you want for nothing."

You appreciated the gesture, but the feeling of his credit card in your hand made you feel sick to your stomach. It reminded you that you were just his sugar baby. Nothing more. And as you watched Maxwell leave for his last minute business trip, you realised you might never be anything more.

Taglist (let me know if you wish to be added!)

Sugar and Spice: @100layersofdaddyissues @mrschiltoncat @honeymandos @thisisthe-wayson @this-cat-is-dea @blonde2bomshell @maiyaaaa0130 @autumnleaves1991-blog @justanotherblonde23 @softly-sad @laaadygisbooornex3 @kaelyn-lobrutto24

Permanent: @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @luvzoria @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic @nerdypinupcrystal @wonderfulfluffer @kiwi-the-first @pedroepascal @castiel-barnes @honeymandos @rocketqueen @ladycumberbatchofcamelot @dybalalover10 @girl-obsessed-with-things @elena-myth

[osamiiya]

Pairing: Tendou Satori x Reader

Type of fic: Angst (But make it like, the middle to end)

TW// Death, panic, slight panic attack

Summary: Tendou's in love, and he'll stay in love, because, how could he forget you?

A/n I'm back baby, also I cried while writing this so good luck 🤩

Songs I listened to while writing: Love Like You (Caleb Hyles) , Be my Mistake (The 1975) , Mr Loverman (Ricky Montgomery), Lonely (Noah Cyrus), She used to be mine (Jessie Mueller), Before you go (Lewis Capaldi)

"Satori~" Tendou turns around, grin only growing as he hears your sing song voice call from around the corner.

He watched with bated breath, letting out a soft sigh and a heartwarming smile, as he holds out his hands and pulls you into his chest. Taking a deep inhale and exhale.

"How did you sleep?" His grin is soft, and those who've only seen a sinister smile on his face from volleyball would be surprised at how full of love and adoration it held. Truly, Tendou's paradise from the rest of the world, a breath of fresh air from those who found him creepy or weird.

No, you weren't like them. Ever since the beginning you were always the first to jump in to defend Tendou, who had just started to shrug off the looks and whispers of those around him.

"The best sleep I've ever had."

"Yeah?" Tendou sways the two of you in his arms slightly, his tall and thin frame trying it's best to keep you warm from the fall air.

"I had a nightmare." Tendou hums, clearly not worried about it.

"You did?" Tendou's heart squeezes in a way he can't describe as you look up at him with innocent eyes.

"Yeah, your bus was in a car crash." He hums, chills running down his back as remembers the rush of feelings that accompanied the dream.

"Well, I'm here now, besides it's just a dream." Too engrossed in his conversation with you, Tendou isn't aware of the worried look Semi sends him and then Ushijima.

But before he can formally say anything, Ushijima interrupts him.

"He'll be ok. He always is."

---

Tendou's absolutely sure that the looks he's gotten from people in the halls have passed just staring because he was weird looking, there was some underlying message in the stares now, something he couldn't decode.

"Don't mind them Satori." You tug on his uniform blazer, marching ahead of him slightly, eager to get to the convenience store.

"You know y/n. Eating ice cream in the winter leads to all sorts of bad things." Tendou leans over you as you pick out an ice cream from the ice chest, hands coming to your hips and subconsciously rubbing circles into the uniform fabric as he pretends to compare the different ice cream types, as if he wouldn't get the same ice bar he always got.

Tendou's eyes sparkle with happiness as you pick out a new flavour, turning over your shoulder to smile and show him the ice cream you picked.

As always, Tendou pays. Something about how you can repay him later, maybe when a manga he really wants comes out.

"Satori, do you want to try?" There's a mischievous smirk playing at your lips as you hold out the ice cream. After stopping on a park bench, not to far away from the school, the two of you just couldn't wait to have the slowly melting ice creams.

Instead of licking the ice cream as you expected him to do, Tendou leaned over and planted a kiss on your lips, humming as he pulled back and licked his tongue over his lips, smirking at your bewildered expression.

"Tendou." Ushijima's curt voice pulls both of your attentions away from eachother and to the stoic boy above you.

"Ushiwaka, sorry we didn't get you an ice cream. You don't like them anyways, but I did get you..." Tendou trails off, rummaging through the white plastic bag you had acquired at the store, a polite smile on the underplayed college student's face.

Tendou lets out an 'Ah ha!' as he procures the mint chocolate flavoured protein bar you've seen Ushijima eat during practice before.

Ushijima takes it from Tendou's outstretched hand, a polite and curt thank you as he sits next to Tendou.

"We were about to talk about the literature project." Tendou hums, sending you a wink and taking a careful bite of his ice cream.

"Tendou, y/n is gone." It's like ripping off a bandaid, it hurt to see his best friend push himself deeper into a fantasy he created of his own imagination.

"Silly Ushiwaka, they're right-" Tendou's stomach drops as he turns and sees you with a sad smile spread over your features, eyes glassy.

"No, they're- Ushiwaka they're right here." Tendou's confused, was this a prank?

"Tendou, y/n's bus was in a very bad accident, and they didn't make it out of the hospital." Tendou lets out a dry and nervous laugh.

"No, that was my nightmare last night, there's no way..." Tendou's blood runs cold and his hands are shaking.

'Not my Y/n. He's talking about the wrong Y/n.' Tendou's thoughts are too quick for him to keep up with, quick breaths coming out in short bursts.

Words are trapped in his throat as he looks between you and Ushijima. Ushijima's face uncharacteristically full of pity, and your's sad, a tear rolling down your cheek.

"Ushijima I think I need a minute." Ushijima nods at Tendou's serious voice, on the verge of breaking, and gets up, walking a good distance away.

"You're gone?" Tendou's hands are shaking as his voice cracks, wanting to reach out to you.

"Satori, listen to me ok? I love you. Don't ever forget that." A tear rolls down Tendou's face as his thoughts become clearer by the second.

What was once incomprehensible static in his head taking the shape of a word, then two, until they formed a sentence.

'Y/ns gone.'

A sob claws it's way out of Tendou's mouth, and he feels like he's in elementary school again.

"Make sure you don't give Goshiki too much of a hard time ok? He's always trying to impress you guys." Both of your hands are on Tendou's face at this point, and it scares him that he can't feel you, your warmth gone, your presence hanging on by a thread.

"Always eat enough ok? I know you don't have a big appetite, but don't get sick while I'm gone ok? Don't skip out on your meals, please." There's tears running down your face, and Tendou finally notices how you're not really there, tears falling quickly, like rain on the bench.

"You're not here?"

You stop wiping his tears away, giving him a sad smile and a kiss on the cheek.

"I'm at Tokyo Cemetery, darling." A bone shattering shiver rolls through Tendou as he lets out another sob.

"You can't go, I need you." Tendou's shaking, trying to suppress a scream in pain, his body overflowing with realizing and pain.

"You've been in denial Satori." You wipe his tears and leave a kiss on his cheek, and it kills Tendou inside because he can almost feel it. He wants to feel it. Tendou wants to feel your lips on his cheeks.

"Be good ok? Remember how we were going to go to Paris? Take my memory there, take me around Paris using that photo in your wallet. Kiss me goodnight, don't forget me." Your voice is strained and Tendou can't breathe.

"You hear me Satori? Don't forget me, ok?"

"Ok." He manages, it comes out forced , and very much real. A contrast to the life he's continued to live with you in his head, his body and mind now painfully aware that he'd been walking around like a husk of his last self, his mind entertaining the hope and the denial that, you y/n, were still alive. And Tendou could kiss you, and hold your hand, and see you in his jersey one last time.

'Y/ns gone.' And with that Tendou's back to the reality he hates, where you're gone. Tendou can't breathe and his mind feels like it's a tape recorder on 3x speed.

His heart is beating and his hands are grabbing for something to ground him. Seeing his best friend break apart, Ushijima speeds over, taking big steps and allowing Tendou to grip tightly to his shirt, sobbing loudly.

"I didn't get to say goodbye." He chokes out, burying his head into Ushijima's stomach, letting out a yell of pain and heartbreak.

Ushijima feels his heart constrict at the demonstration of his best friend's pain, the red haired boy screaming into his maroon shirt, soaking through the fabric as he rests his hand on Tendou's head, rubbing it in a way he's seen you do it before.

"I loved them and I couldn't say goodbye." Tendou screams, voice raw and filled to the brim with pain, lanky body shaking violently.

"I didn't get to kiss them one last time. I didn't get to tell them I loved them. I never got to take them to Paris like we planned. I never got to give them my volleyball jersey and see them in the stands, cheering for me one last time."

Tendou and Ushijima stay like that for what seems like hours, Tendou buried in his best friend's embrace, needing to be grounded from his raging thoughts.

"I loved them Ushiwaka." Tendou whispers, no longer shaking, voice and eyes hollow.

"I know Tendou." Ushijima tried his best to sound gentle, he knows that Tendou needs it.

"I didn't get to say goodbye." Tendou's like a broken record as Ushijima helps him get off the park bench, plastic bag filled with two uneaten melted ice creams picked up and thrown out.

"We were going to see the eiffle tower." Tendou whispers from his bunk above Ushijima's.

Body heavy with exhaustion, he's about to sleep when he sits up suddenly, hands panicked as he searches for something.

"Tendou?" Came Ushijima's voice from the below bunk.

"My wallet, where's my wallet?" He's stammering and his voice is raw from sobbing and his hands are shaking as he looks.

"Tendou." Comes Ushijima's calm voice as he gently hands Tendou the wallet.

Immediately Tendou opens it, digging through to find the picture he's sure he kept in there.

Pulling it out, he smiles gently, all run out of tears, as he brings the photo shakily to his lips, kissing the photo gently and smiling, looking into your eyes, frozen in time, no idea of the future, just pure happiness.

"Goodnight, my paradise."

---

Permanent Taglist

@sachirou-senpai @prayerofthehaim @ryusex-wife @x-ia-n @wompwomphq @elianetsantana @jovialnoise @yuujiya @peteunderoos @curiouslilbeast

[angelwiththeblue-box]

here’s my ideal hawkeye episode that i came up with while ranting about it to my brother. it’s not super well fleshed out and it’s pretty self indulgent but i like it

@thedragonemperess

⁃ maya disobeys kingpin orders gets put in jail thing

⁃ clint gets himself captured to get close to kingpin and ends up in the same cell as maya

⁃ kate is tracking clint and yelena follows her and the two start arguing and get themselves caught

⁃ the four of them are now in a jail cell together

⁃ awkward silence

⁃ kate breaks the ice and it’s awkward until maya clint and yelena start fighting

⁃ maya and count have a conversation and come to an agreement since maya realizes she needs to work with them to escape

⁃ then yelena and clint have an emotional heart to heart about natasha

⁃ at the same time kate talks to maya using a bit of sign language she picked up from clint and watching maya (apologizing saying how cool maya is)

⁃ maya signs thank you while mouthing it

⁃ they’re on decent terms now and cut back to yelena and clint who have reached a stand point in their conversation and the four make a plan to break out

⁃ they break out successfully and attack king pin and unveil what schemes kate’s mother has been planning

⁃ maya kills kingpin for lying and manipulating her and throwing her in a prison type thing

⁃ the four of them are battered and bruised and they shake hands, not friends but not enemies. allies

⁃ yelena departs first and we follow her as she goes to natasha’s grave, in tears. she apologizes for trying to kill clint and she tells nat that she misses her and then she does the whistle and natasha whistles back

⁃ yelena gasps and they hug and yelena s like holy fuck how are you here and natasha’s like when steve put the soul stone back i came back on vormir and i had to fuck shit up until i caught the attention of a passing ship that brought me to earth it took a while

⁃ they walk out of the cemetery and natasha’s like ‘did you say you tried to kill clint?’ and yelenas like long story and it cuts back to maya

⁃ she walks into a cemetery and it mirrors yelenas except it’s darker with somber music and maya signs to her father, telling him that she’s alright and she found the man who killed him and they took down kingpin. she says that his little dragon is now a fire breathing badass or smth like that

⁃ she signs goodbye father and stands up. maya looks around the cemetery before walking to her apartment. she unlocks the door and sees a small present on the counter. she picks it up and reads the tag ‘merry christmas, from clint’

⁃ she opens and finds a small folded photo of teenage her and her father and a letter from clint. a tear slides down mayas face as she reads it and she takes the photo and slides it in her wallet

⁃ fade to kate and clint walking down nyc together

⁃ they go to the apartment to see lucky, who has been named that because he hasn’t died yet

⁃ clint is like hey i gotta go home cus it’s christmas morning and i promised my family and kate’s like yeah checks out merry christmas and then clint is like what are you doing for christmas and then kate eaves at the apartment and says ‘probably hang around here, order a pizza’ and then clint’s like ‘alone’ and kate nods and clint’s like ‘well if you want you can come home with me and spend christmas with my family

⁃ cut to clint opening the door and lila the older brother and nathaniel running and hugging him and happy reunion

⁃ kate walks in and waves awkwardly and clint introduces everyone and they open presents and kate introduces lucky and they hangout and sometime later clint goes to the car and grabs kate’s bow and he gives it to her and she grins and inspects it for damage, before noticing that clint signed it ‘to the best hawkeye i know ~clint’ and kate hugs him and thanks him for letting her come spend christmas with his family

⁃ clint just nods and signs ‘of course’ as laura calls them to the table for dinner and it fades to black

⁃ mid credit scene is of kate the barton kids and clint playing mario kart and it pulls back to show laura picking up the phone with an unknown number. you can’t hear the other person on the phone

⁃ you watch as laura slowly looks horrified

⁃ the camera pans as clint walks over to laura and takes her hand

⁃ ‘are you okay?’ laura shakes her head visible fear in her eyes

⁃ ‘it’s kingpin.’

⁃ cue credits

⁃ final credit scene is off kingpin waking up to his phone ringing

⁃ he blinks and looks at the number, but it says blocked. kingpin groans and picks it up. it’s not revealed who it is until the end, when it’s revealed to be valentina allegra and they talk about starting the dark avengers with john fake loser mad cap america fades to black on dramatic cryptic line

[snelbz]

Secrets {Elorcan}

Written, as always, with @tacmc​, aka the LOML.

Lorcan got a dreadful sense of deja vu as he trekked across town in his Jeep.

He was happily downing his second beer of the night, alone in his apartment watching Back to the Future when her text came through. Even though his mind protested, his body was moving toward his front door, slipping on his boots, and grabbing his keys and wallet before he even finished reading her words. 

I need you. Please. 

He knew where she had been all night, knew who she had been with. Now, Lorcan had to go pick up the pieces.

If only she had listened to him to begin with.

The snow was coming down hard. What had started out as some light flurries earlier in the evening had now coated everything the eye could see in a thick, white blanket. He probably should have driven a little more slowly, but he had to get to her, had to make sure that she was okay.

Even if she’d done it to herself.

When he pulled into her driveway, parking behind her little red car, Lorcan could still see the tire tracks in front of her house. He couldn’t have been gone for ten minutes before she had texted him.

Flipping the visor down, Lorcan looked at himself in the small mirror. It wasn’t that he needed to make sure he looked okay or that he needed to impress her. He needed to make sure that he kept his cool while he was in there. She already knew what he was thinking. It was up to him to make sure he didn’t say it.

With a sigh, Lorcan was out of the Jeep and tugging the beanie he wore down over his loose hair. He rang the doorbell and waited. And waited. And waited.

When she came to the door, her eyes were red and her nose was sniffly.

She didn’t say a word.

A second passed before Lorcan sighed and he pulled Elide into his arms, patting her back softly. He didn’t bother telling her all was okay. He didn’t trust his own voice. So, he remained quiet and patted her back until she backed up, pulled him inside, and shut the door behind them, shutting out the cold. 

“I have wine,” Elide said, quietly, as she made her way to the kitchen. “I know it’s not your drink of choice, but you’re welcome to a glass.”

Lorcan stopped in the doorway of her little kitchen and leaned against the frame, his broad arms crossed. “Wine tastes like piss.” 

“Says the man that downs beer like water,” Elide said, meant to add onto his sarcastic comment, but there was no bite to it, nor humor. 

Instead, Elide looked down at her empty glass before filling it again. 

Lorcan said nothing. 

He knew he should say something comforting, but he was having trouble coming up with anything to say. After Elide’s third sip of wine, he settled for, “You okay?” 

Elide set her glass calmly on the countertop. “Honestly?”

“Have I ever asked for anything other than honesty from you?” Lorcan followed, trying to keep his voice as calm as possible.  

Elide slowly shook her head. “I’m almost out of wine.”

“Then it looks like we’re going for a drive,” he said, simply. “Come on.”

Elide didn’t argue. She just nodded, pulled her boots on and grabbed her coat. They walked out into the snow and Lorcan opened her door before helping her up into the passenger seat.

The ride to the liquor store was quiet. The music played softly in the background, but neither of them were really listening. Lorcan wasn’t sure if Elide was even paying attention to anything as they drove through the town. When they parked, Lorcan was out of the truck before Elide could even unbuckle her seatbelt. After a few minutes, he returned with three bags. One held Elide’s wine, one very clearly held a six-pack of beer, but the third was a mystery.

Looking back at the bags in the backseat, Elide chuckled quietly and said, “You need to be drunk for this, too?”

Lorcan glanced over at her, but his eyes were back on the road a second later. His silence was answer enough.

Elide said nothing more. Her eyes simply drifted toward the window, at the snow slowly and silently falling from the heavens. 

“Are you going to stay quiet all night?” she asked, as Lorcan turned onto her street.

“No,” he replied, simply, even though he said nothing more. 

“You’re mad,” she said.

“Why would I be mad?” he replied. “I’m not mad.”

“You sound mad,” she whispered.

Lorcan sighed. “I’m not mad, Elide, I just want to make sure you’re alright. You’re my best friend, I need you to be alright, so I’m here.” The Jeep idled in her driveway, but neither of them made a move to get out. Elide just stared at her hands in her lap. Lorcan took a deep breath and cut the engine. “Come on. Let’s go inside. You need to tell me what happened and I need a drink.”

He didn’t wait for her reply, just opened the door and was retrieving their bags as Elide slid down from the seat and made her way up to her front door. She unlocked it and was heading back towards her bedroom as Lorcan took the drinks into the kitchen. After kicking off her boots and grabbing an enormous, oversized hoodie - one that she’d stolen from Lorcan at some point in high school - her sock-covered feet were shuffling into the kitchen. Lorcan had already settled in the living room with a beer in hand, so Elide was surprised to find a full bottle of whiskey next to the wine on her counter. 

“Looked like you needed something stronger,” he said, shrugging, refusing to meet her eyes even though the TV remained off.

“Don’t act like whiskey is for my benefit,” she said, even though she poured herself a shot and tossed it back before filling her wine glass. “You know I prefer tequila.” 

Lorcan let out a humorless snort as Elide stumbled into the living room and settled on the couch beside him.

“So,” he began, clearing his throat. “What happened?”

Elide shrugged. “He came here, picked me up, we had dinner. He tried to come in, I told him he hadn’t been invited, that I wasn’t ready to take that step again, that I wanted to take things slow. He kept trying to come inside, but I kept telling him no. When he finally got the hint, he stormed off and drove away. After, of course, he called me a prude and an idiot, and thanked me for wasting his time, just like I always had.” 

Lorcan’s jaw clenched, but he said nothing.

“Say it,” was all Elide said, after the silence filled the space between them.

“There’s nothing to say,” he said, cracking open the beer in his hand and putting it to his lips. After he’d drank deeply, he crushed the can and set it down on the side table next to him.

Those four, stupid words hung between them, regardless of the fact that neither of them had uttered them.

I told you so.

When Elide had called Lorcan on Christmas morning, he’d expected her to tell him some ridiculous story of something that one of their friends did after he’d left the bar on Christmas Eve. He expected her to wish him a Merry Christmas and ask what time he was planning to be at Rowan and Aelin’s for lunch.

So when she’d told him she bumped into her ex at the bar, Lorcan was quiet. When she told him she’d agreed to another date, Lorcan was silent as death.

Roland was an ass.

He didn’t deserve Elide.

He never had. 

“I need you to say something,” Elide said, turning her eyes toward him. 

“You need me to say something?” Lorcan asked, incredulously. “Want do you want me to say, El? I want to feel bad for you. I really fucking do, alright? But, I…”

“You what,” Elide breathed.

“I can’t,” Lorcan said, through gritted teeth. “I have no idea why you gave that jackass a second chance. I know that, you know that, it makes no sense to me! We did this same thing a year ago, El. Me, here with you, trying to put your heart back together after Roland was reckless with it!”

“He means something to me,” she said, looking down into her full glass. “He was my first, Lorcan, my first everything.”

Lorcan had to bite his tongue. He was well aware of everything Roland had been to Elide. He’d been around for years, in and out of Elide’s life, until he broke her heart last Christmas. He finally cleared his throat when he felt he was able to speak without snapping again. “I know. I know he was, El. But you promised. You promised you weren’t going to let him do this to you again. And the first opportunity he has, he comes right back and fucks with your head.”

Elide was silently brushing a thumb back and forth across her bottom lip. After a second, she looked up at him. “I loved him, Lor.”

The tears in her eyes nearly broke him.

Without a word, Lorcan wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her against him. Elide buried her face in his chest. “I know you did.”

Lorcan wanted to kill him, wanted to kick his ass for making Elide cry, something she’d promised him would never happen again.

“I’m sorry for snapping,” he said, quietly, once her sobbing grew into silent cries. “I just… I can’t see you like this. Especially when it’s because of some prick that doesn’t deserve you.” 

Elide shook her head, but he knew she wasn’t disregarding what he’d said. She was just trying to get her head straight. “I just need to accept that I’m going to be a cat lady and die alone.”

Lorcan snorted. “You’re allergic to cats.”

“Then it’ll be an early death,” Elide said, voice muffled thanks to where her face was still pressed against his chest. She leaned back and sighed. “I got your shirt wet.”

Lorcan shrugged. “Not a big deal. And you’re not going to die alone. There’s someone out there who’s going to make you the happiest girl in the world.” He paused for a moment and made sure she was looking at him. “And it sure as hell won’t be Roland Havilliard.””

“Then who will it be?” she asked, with a humorless chuckle. “Do share your wisdom, if you know that fact to be true.” 

Lorcan just shook his head as he watched her. If only she knew, if only he could tell her of what he would never tell her. Lorcan believed what he had said, that there was someone out there who would make her the happiest girl in the world.

Little did she know that he wished it were him.

He knew it wasn’t, though.

He wanted that person to be him, but Elide Lochan deserved better than a bastard who couldn’t control his temper, who drank too much and felt too little. Yes, he loved Elide, more than he could ever love anyone, ever again. But she deserved better than him. 

So he’d take his love for her to the grave. 

[aficwhore]

Truth Is (Chapter 3)

Chapter 3: Paper Weighted Problems

Frankie “Catfish” Morales x F!reader

Summary: After the night before, tensions between Fish and Chip arise. While tearing through the jungle and Lorea’s place, Frankie and the reader fight, leading to an amazing discovery.

Word count: 3K

Warnings: explicit language, blood, violence, guns/weapons, lots of angst and emotions, infidelity?, smut, sexual innuendos, drinking, mentions of drugs, talk of death/death itself, and talk of mental health(PTSD and depression).

A/N: Sorry for the late update, Life has its ups and downs! Today we had a bad storm so I sat in my basement and wrote this. I hope you like it<3

Regret. Frankie couldn't hide the emotion from me. It was as clear as day, I wondered if the boys had noticed it. 

“Well what’s for breakfast?” I broke the awkward silence, causing everyone but Frankie to break their gazes away from me, but exchanges looks between each other. I finally looked anywhere but in Frankie’s direction.

Tom cleared his throat, “Uh nothing special, we saw that you had some frozen waffles and just made those.” He tried to lighten the mood, it was obvious, everyone knew about last night. 

“Haha, yea, what grown woman buys Eggos?” Benny attempted to joke, causing Santi and Will to stifle a laugh. 

I rolled my eyes, fighting a smile, thoughts of Frankie still clouding my mind. “For occasions just like this one! When five grown men have a slumber party in my living room.” I added, walking over to the counter and grabbing a plate full of waffles and dowsing them in syrup.

“Right, because that’s definitely what it was.” Tom chuckled, handing me a napkin.

“Exactly, I’m pretty sure I saw Pope braiding Benny Boy’s hair.” I joked biting into a chunk of food.

Ben scoffed, “It gets in my eyes!” And everyone froze, staring at him in shock. After a second of complete silence, Frankie burst into laughter, sending the rest of us into a laughing fit, except Ben. He stood there blushing, trying to act like he didn’t reveal that he braids his hair.

Will began to cough, struggling to not choke on the mouthful of food while he snickered. Pope roughly patted him on the back as our giggles died down. 

“So, does that mean you sit in the mirror and braid your own hair?” Tom questioned with a smirk on his face, wanting to bother Benny more.

“You shut up.” He jokingly spits. Tom raises his hands as a sign of defeat and continues to finish the last bites of food on his plate.

“Anyways...Other than our ‘slumber party’ I know two people that had some fun last night.” Pope spoke up, causing mine and Fish’s eyes to open wide.

“Oh yea, how could we forget? ‘Oh FrAnKiE, Oh YeS! HaRdEr!’” Benny mimicked me while thrusting his hips for dramatic affect. I could feel heat rising to my face as the boys roared with giggles again. 

“Would you cut it out?” Frankie replied, wanting to avoid this talk entirely. 

Then Pope joined in, making fun of Frankie, “’FuCk, bAbY, I wOn’T LaSt LoNg!’” I sat there, embarrassed and not knowing what to say. Normally this would be a joke, but with everything, this wasn’t a joking matter.

“I said enough!” Frankie shouted, “It shouldn’t have happened, okay?!” He expressed, shoving his chair back, getting up, and storming outside.

All the commotion died immediately. Pope and Benny opened their mouths to apologize when they turned to me, but were met with a blank stare.

Did he really mean that? After pursuing me? After trying so hard to make up, he goes and says ‘It shouldn’t have happened.’

Everyone remained quiet, continuing to stare at me in concern. After what felt like hours, Tom pushed his seat back and got up, hopefully headed to catch Frankie.

Once Tom had made it out the front door, I cleared my throat, "So, what time are we leaving?" I asked, trying to hide all the hurt and pain from my eyes.

The three remaining men all exchanged looks, "Here in 15." Santi spoke quietly, unsure of what exactly just happened.

"Sounds good!" I faked enthusiasm, stuffing my mouth with the last bite on my plate and getting up. I swiftly put my dishes in the sink and headed back to my room. I could hear the boys whispering to each other, trying to understand what the hell was going on with Frankie and I.

I closed my door behind me. I leaned against it, letting my head fall back with defeat and hit the door. Feeling my emotions topple over the brim, tears rushed to my eyes as I slid down the door and sank to the floor.

What the fuck was going on? Why was Frankie so upset with our actions. I thought finally we had made up, that he was once again MY Fish. Had he just used me last night? What changed his mind? Why was this happening all over again?

Lost in my thoughts, I hadn't realized that my sobs were now audible. I couldn't hold back the garbled gasps I let out. Tears stained my cheeks and began to soak my shirt.

Through the door I could hear the boys trying to get each other to come get me, because it was close for us to leave. Not wanting to deal with the water works anymore, I slapped my cheeks a few times, trying to smack the emotions out of my head. I wiped my tears off and quick got up to change my shirt.

After rummaging through my clothes, I found a similar shirt, threw it on and swung open the door, wanting to just head to the airport, and to get this over with.

Holding my head up high, I confidently walked back to the kitchen/living room to meet the boys. Only Benny and Will stood there waiting for me, finishing the dishes and putting them away.

"All set? I'm ready to get this over with and be rich." I attempted to joke, causing the brothers in front of me to awkwardly chuckle, their eyes full of worry.

Benny shook his head, acknowledging that I wanted to ignore the fiasco and to get on the road. He led the way out of the apartment after hanging up a dish towel and grabbing his wallet and keys off the counter.

I followed quickly behind him with Will right on my heels. When we made it to the cars, Frankie sat in the front passenger side of Santi's truck, Santi in the driver seat, and Tom between them.

"I'll drive," Will offered, making his way to his truck and getting in. Benny walked ahead of me, opened the door and waited for me to hop in, before getting in after.

No one spoke as we tailgated Santi's truck all the way to the airport. Will placed his hand on my thigh the whole time, as a way to console me. Benny had his arm around me, slightly pulling me into his side. With them, I felt much better, they were my best friends and knew exactly how to comfort me.

When we found a good parking space, we all hopped out, and grabbed our things from the bed of the trucks. It was still awkwardly silent between everyone.

As we checked into our flights and went through TSA, Benny tried to lighten the mood by saying he needed a snack, even though we had just ate. We all giggled when Will called him a 'garbage disposal.'

Sitting at our flight gate was almost unbearable, realizing this mission would be very difficult, now with the added tension.

When we boarded the plane, Will and Santi sat with me, of course I was in the middle. Tom, Benny, and Frankie sat in the seats next to us. During the first hour I attempted to read a book, but quickly got bored as I felt Pope fall asleep and rest his head against my shoulder. Will sat with his eyes closed and headphones in.

I glanced over Pope's sleeping frame to find the others. Benny was leaned forward, head down and snoring on the tray he had propped up. Tom was slouched in his chair, his head lulling back and forth with sleep consuming him. And Frankie, who was also reading, looked up and met my eyes.

I ignored the gaze he gave me and turned my attention back to my book. Moments later I felt my phone buzz with a text. I sat my book down and pulled out my phone, reading the message;

Fishie: "I'm sorry..."

I rolled my eyes, was he really apologizing for his blowout, over a text?

Locking my phone, I put it face down into my lap, leaving the message unanswered. I continued my page in my book, only getting past a few sentences before my phone vibrated again. I acted as if I didn't feel it and remained reading. Only for it to ping again.

Frustratedly, I opened my phone again, seeing two additional texts;

Fishie: "Really?"

Fishie: "I meant what I said. I am sorry, but last night... was a mistake."

Heat began to rise to my cheeks, I forcefully typed back;

Me: "Wow, you are unbelievable."

I heard him shuffle and type back quickly;

Fishie: "Because I apologized? It's true, I'm only helping us both here. Yea it was my fault, but I shouldn't have gone to your room."

Me: "You took advantage of my feelings. You acted like we can just ignore this, I can't help but feel you led me on."

Fishie: "Led you on?! How? WE both decided to sleep together, thats it. I didn't LEAD you to do anything."

Me: "You're a real fucking piece of work."

Fishie: "Oh really?"

Me: "Yea, fuck you."

Fishie: "God you are the most stubborn and hard headed person I've ever met. Can't you see that this was a damn mistake?"

Me: "Screw you, oh wait, I did, but look where that got me. I don't even know why you're trying to apologize, because somehow you keep shifting the blame to me."

As I hit send and shoved my phone between my legs and put my book away, I heard Frankie huff with anger. Awaiting a reply I closed my eyes and leaned against Will, using his arm as a pillow.

But for a while, nothing came, and I slowly began to drift into unconsciousness.

My sleep had been interrupted by the plane shaking and a loud thump. I opened my eyes abruptly, and slightly frightened. I faced Will, to glance out the window and found that we had finally landed in Colombia.

We all silently gathered our things and slowly made our departure from the plane and airport. Once we trudged through the doors, we made it into the humid climate, the wet air immediately dampening our skin and clothes.

"Damn, this is gonna be fun." Benny chirped as we all huddled into the jeep Santi had prepared for us. Santi hopped upfront, and so did Tom, leaving four of us to try and fit in the backseat.

"Pope, there six of us, there's no way we'll fit AND have room for the bags." I spoke up, watching as Will, Benny, and Frankie smushed into the seats together.

"I know, I promise I'm more prepared than that," he laughed. "We only have to ride like this for a few miles, then we're on foot, and they'll have cargo vans there." He explained, turning on the engine and motioning for me to somehow get in.

"You can sit on my lap, I'll hold you down during Pope's insane driving." Benny laughed from between Will and Fish. I climbed over Will, careful not to hurt him, and landed in Ben's lap when he yanked the arm I used to brace my weight.

I twisted in his lap to sit comfortably, hoping I'd fit and we could just hurry up and get this over with. Benny wrapped his arms around my waist as Santi sped off and made way to a long and bumpy road.

We hit quite a few bumps and potholes, causing me to shift and bounce in Benny's lap. I tried to lean forward and hang in-between the two front seats, to help alleviate the rough contact between us.

"Damn it Chip, quit wiggling." Benny grunted from behind me.

"I can't control that, Pope is hitting every possible bump on the road." I squeaked as we hit a particularly hard one. I landed back into his lap and felt something. "Ouch, what the hell is in your pocket."

Will snorted and faced the window to hide his face as Benny gulped loudly. "I-I can't help it, you keep moving!" I froze, wanting to still believe it was something in his pocket.

"C'mon man, can't you control yourself?" Frankie angrily spoke up.

I pulled my back from Benny and sat as far forward on his legs as I could, turning to look at Frankie. "What? How is it-" I countered, my voice dying in my throat.

"Fish, you know how it works, it's not like I'm doing this on purpose." Benny awkwardly explained.

Frankie huffed and shook his head. "Whatever." he muttered.

"Looks like someone is jealous." Santi quietly joked.

"I am not jealous! We-we are on a damn mission! That should be the last thing from anyones mind, we need to focus on not dying and getting the fucking money." Frankie snapped, filling the jeep with his booming voice.

All noise ceased, the only sound was the creaking of the car as we rolled off the main road into a trail. The tension was at an all time high, it was engulfing and in a way, suffocating.

After some time, we stopped, Santi throwing the car in park and quickly turning to us. "My informant said that the mansion should be vacant, but we only have about 15 minutes, so we get in and get out, with as much as we can carry, but we can't take too much time." We all nodded. "When I get the signal, we're coming in hot and getting right to it. Get out and suit up." He turned back around and hopped out.

We followed behind, pulling out our bags and pulling on our gear. Not much else was said, due to the shit that was about to go down, even though it would be empty, you never know what could happen.

"Alright, obviously with everything, we no longer fit, I'll ride the side." I spoke, waiting for Will to get in and shut the door.

"Me too, easier that way." Frankie offered, shutting his door after Benny jumped in.

Will shut his door and I placed my foot on the step bar, hauling myself up to grab the rack on top for support, hanging on tight as Frankie did the same. "All good?" Pope asked through the window.

"Game time bitches." I quirked, slapping my free hand on the top of the Jeep. As we waited for the signal, I took in my surroundings, lush, thick forest all the way around, If Pope doesn't know where to go, we'd definitely get lost.

As I admired the greenery, I turned to look over the roof of the car, meeting Frankie's eyes for what seemed like the millionth time since we've reunited.

He sheepishly looked away and down at the ground, his knuckles which wrapped around the frame of the rack, tightened and turned white.

A garbled and staticky noise came from the cab of the vehicle, causing Pope to slam the gear shift into drive and yell "Hold on tight!" He lurked the jeep forward, stepping up the speed.

I held on tighter, pulling my body as flush as I could to the side of the Jeep, to avoid hitting the branches and brush that littered the sides of the overgrown trial.

After a long blur of green, the forest broke into a path, leading to a small mansion. Just as fast as we drove, we stopped. I jumped off and quickly swung the door open for Will, stepping back and pulling my gun from my side.

Without any words, we all strategically filed into the house, making sure to take cover and search the premise, eliminating any threats. The first floor had been barren, as for people, though it was filled with expensive artwork and furniture.

Once we all searched and met at the staircase, Pope nodded at me, signaling for me to take the lead upstairs and sweep the area. I quickly glided up the stairs and took cover near the first door, getting ready to burst in the room and check. To my luck, when I leaped into the room, it was empty. I glanced behind the door, and walked further into the office, keeping my gun at attention.

I could hear the boys doing the same, in the last four rooms. I observed the room, a big desk sat in the middle, a fancy chair accompanied it, the walls were decorated with paintings and portraits. The was a door in the corner, which I strode over to, swinging it open, full force. An alarmed Fish sat on the other side, the door led to the next room. I quickly pointed my gun at the ground and rolled my eyes, turning to examine the room again.

"Clear!" I yelled, letting the team know our section was safe.

Frankie walked through the door and up to me, as I sifted through the desk. "Hey I just wanted to talk real quick."

"Really? Now is not the time, look for the money." I spat back at him. "Any luck?!" I yelled hoping someone found something.

A faint voice answered, "No! I swear, she said there was money here!" Pope echoed.

Getting antsy, I shoved the desk, causing it to fall over, Frankie stepped back, "Listen, I didn't mean to make things worse, okay? Trust me I wanted nothing more than to be with you again."

I paused my movements, holding a paperweight in my hand, "No Frankie, you've done enough, either you want me or don't." I spoke harshly.

"Damn it Chip, just listen!" He raised his voice.

"No! I'm not doing this again, get your shit together and fucking look for something!" I yelled, bending down to put the weight down. He leaned forward and grabbed my arm. "Fuck you!" I yanked away, causing the paper weight to leave my hand and barrel into the wall.

The wall cracked, a hole forming as the weight bounced off and fell to the ground. "Look at what you did!" Frankie gasped with frustration.

I whipped around, walking to the wall, grabbing the paperweight. As I stood, I stopped halfway up when I was met with the hole. But it wasn't just an empty wall or beam behind it. There were plastic packages sticking out, which is very unusual for houses. Frankie began to murmur again.

"Shh! Shut Up!" I shushed him, reaching into the hole and tugging at the bag.

"You never let me talk-" Frankie continued.

"Frankie shut the fuck up! Look!" I screamed when the bag came out of the wall and into my hands. I Twisted on my heel and showed him the bag, which contained a huge stack of One-hundred dollar bills.

"Holy Fuck." Frankie gulped, making eye contact with me.

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