#went to my prompts in hopes of finding something that would be short

[animeyanderelover]

Hi! Can you do prompt 8 with Chrollo? Have a good day!

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, isolation, abduction, manipulation, hints of Nsfw, hints of dub-con

Prompt 8: “Don’t cover my love bites or else I’m going to add more.”

Tags: @jamayah @chxxz @leveyani @cynniical @shenryu-sama @maggiequinn59

Word Count: 2.4k

Prompt 8

Every rustle of the sheets threatened to slash the silence, your movements pausing every few seconds as your panicked gaze darted towards Chrollo. Dark, tousled hair covered his hair, hid the tattoo on his forehead. With his eyes closed and his breath escaping in soft patterns, he resembled a prince from a fairy tale far more than the harsh truth that you too had learned once upon a time. It was this very image of serenity that made you unable to decipher whether he was really asleep or if he was just pretending. Chrollo liked doing that a lot. Pretending to be something or someone all to observe your every reaction.

You didn't dare to crawl closer though to find out the truth. Whether you would risk waking him up in case he was actually asleep right now or his hands would suddenly grab you and confirm that he had been awake all along, all of it would just ruin you the chance to have a shot at starting your day how you wanted it to start. So the only thing you were left with was this agonisingly slow game, stopping your movements every few seconds only to slowly go on after another moment of motionlessness.

As soon as the first sole of your feet made contact with the wooden floor, your heartbeat accelerated. You didn't know why. It was rather stupid after all, the thought that such a simple thing had your heartbeat quickening so noticably within your ribcage. Yet unfortunately your life wasn't that simple anymore, not after everything that had happened. As the second sole of your feet joined the first one on the floor, you couldn't help but start chewing on the insides of your cheek. You just sat there, on the edge of the ned as you contemplated for a while. The steady sound of breaths behind you still hadn't changed yet you didn't dare to let it lull you into a false sense of security.

With one very quiet release of air that was stuck within your lungs due to the tension you were feeling at the moment, you slowly stood up from the ground. The bed groaned as your entire weight shortly dipped into one spot on the mattress before it was gone as you stood up, unsure whether you had done it too slow or too fast. All you knew was that you could only stand there frozen, wiping your sweaty palms over your bare skin as you waited with bated breath. Only once half a minute had passed did you feel courageous enough to take your steps.

Everything was done tentatively and cautiously. Your heels didn’t make contact with the floor, only the front part of your feet pressing against the wood. There was always that short moment where the damp skin of your foot got stuck on the floor, leaving that little noise the moment your feet unlatched from it and even that noise, in another lifetime so insignificant, added to your nervousness. Still you went on, in your own slow tempo. Honestly, you didn’t even know what you wanted to do if you were to succeed and leave the bedroom without waking Chrollo up. All you knew was that you needed to be alone right now and that wouldn’t be possible as long as he was within your vicinity. What you needed was time without Chrollo.

Seeing him, hearing him, smelling him, feeling him, sensing him. All of it would only heighten the fresh set of sore memories that he had recently made with you. There was a new part of your heart that was aching, only one of many bleeding spots within your heart. Maybe it could be mended though if you could have this moment, just one moment, to yourself.

“Where are you going?”

And just like that the hope of healing vanished, your heart silently grieving yet only able to acknowledge with nothing but defeat that another part of your essence had been stolen and corrupted by him.

Who could have known that such a gentle voice could strike so much negative emotions within you at once? It had to be done on purpose. He had to have been awake for a longer time now as the timing of it all was too well done. Just as the tips of your fingers had touched the doorknob, the spark of temporary freedom flowing through you with it.

Unable to answer that question as you yourself didn’t know where exactly you had even planned to go, the only reply you could spontaneously come up with was deafening silence. Any lie that you might come up with, Chrollo would see through immediately. So what would they serve you right now?

“I… I don’t know.”

Your lips moved before your brain had fully caught on to the instructions that your brain was sending as if you had just entered a default mode. It sounded quite pathetic and you dreaded his reaction. You could so absolutely without any of his shallow displays of pity or worse, that earnest curiosity and amusement gleaming within those gray eyes. Whatever emotions you would decipher soon on his face, one thing you already knew for certain. That Chrollo would without a doubt let you know that he had already anticipated your reaction, that he would inform you that he had been watching you. The exact origins of his obsession to always tell you that he had foreseen your reaction and your plans were unknown to you. You didn't know whether his intentions were to subtly inform you that he knew you too well for you to ever have hopes of escaping his tight hold for even one second or if he had other motives, possibly even more genuine ones.

The sound of the bed creaking and the rustle of sheets was what fully caught your wariness, the confirmation that he was not only awake but moving. You spun your body awkwardly around, unsure how to face him after that whole ridiculous sequence of trying to sneak away from him. Immediately you made eye contact with those all-observing gray voids, his gaze searching yours on purpose. It was overwhelming, you were not prepared for his intimate gaze. Not that you were ever truly prepared when Chrollo was around to begin with but especially now, early in the morning and suffering from a queasy mixture of frustration and embarrassment were you throughly unable to hold his eye contact.

Automatically your own gaze fled from his, sliding down. From his muscular torso down to the sheets of the bed, the afterimage of his upper body staying within your mind for one moment longer than you would ever admit. Now at the very least his facial expressions wouldn't haunt you but that didn't erase that prickling feeling that overcame you as his eyes still were focused on you. This was doable though. As long as you wouldn't have to see whatever emotions his eyes would reveal whilst looking at you for whatever it would be, it would only mock you further.

"You don't know?" he hummed amused, repeating your answer after you. His tone gave it already away, that entertained fascination he always felt whilst observing you. Of course he'd react like this, as patient and in control as always. Admittedly, sometimes you wished to get something more out of him then that serene acknowledgement. On the other hand you knew better than to trigger the storm from the calm. You weren't that stupid after all.

You had no intention to confrim what you had already spoken before and Chrollo knew that. For all you knew, he'd probably just repeated your answer loud to let you hear just how silly it sounded now. If that was indeed the case, it had worked wonderfully as you could feel your cheeks growing warm with the shame of being caught.

"Well, what do you plan to do now?"

He only spoke up after giving you enough time to simmer in your own shame and embarrassment, the hot prickle on your neck by now having extended to your face. The air felt hotter, more uncomfortable and you more vulnerable and exposed. You were more conscious of everything and suddenly the fact that you were wearing no clothes had your whole face burning. It was early morning yet already you were physically and mentally bare for him.

"I..."

You didn't know.

You didn't know what you planned to do now. Heck, you hadn't even planned through what you would have done if you had managed to leave the bedroom without him noticing. However, you did not have the courage to repeat the same answer you had already given him for his previous question. Wouldn't that just make you look awfully stupid after all? Chrollo had always a plan, always knew what he was doing. You were nothing like him, you weren't as beautifully composed. No, you were reckless and messy, would never be able to achieve what Chrollo was capable of achieving.

"Would you prefer to lay in bed for a while longer or do you want to start the day?"

As he offered you two possible solutions on what options you had right now, you had to bite your tongue. Two so easy answers to his questions that you had been unable to think of. Really, what else could you have done besides sleeping for a while longer or starting your day? Now whatever you would choose, it would be something that Crollo had chosen for you.

Now, with the two choices presented to you though, you knew at least what you wanted to do. Because you couldn't start your day like this, already outsmarted by him. So with heavy footsteps you made your way back to bed, still refusing to meet his gaze. The softness of the mattress and the warm sheets were only a shallow comfort for you, especially the moment his firm body brushed against yours as he shuffled closer, just shy of pressing himself against you.

Warm fingertips started tracing the outline of your body, sliding smoothly over your curves. That little touch paralysed your entire body shortly as vivid memories of the previous night returned.

"You're very mobile despite our indulgences last night. Should I be glad or disappointed about that?"

You felt it. You always felt it when his gaze was trying to meet yours, wanting to figure out what your opinion on a specific topic was. Not because it could possibly influence his opinion but simply because he wanted to know. You couldn't suppress the little gulp that you did, the muscles within your body tensing up as his palms rested on your hips, pulling you closer to himself.

Whilst your own brain was still trying to come up with an answer that would satisfy him, your body already reacted to his unwanted touch. Your palms manoeuvred themselves within the cramped space under the blanket up to his chest, resting flatly against it. This simple yet very telling gesture had Chrollo stopping within his movements, observing your hands as they pressed against his chest before gray eyes darted to your face.

Your own vision was focused on your hands as well, silently furious that your body had made a choice whilst your mind had been too busy scrambling for a way to appease Chrollo. Yet the sad truth was that your own wishes and desires would never be his priority. Not as long as he didn't see the advantage that he would earn in the long run. For the first time that day you finally dared to look him into his eyes with as much emotional preparation as you could gather. Almost immediately you wished to wither away as those analysing gaze met yours. He was doing it again, you could tell. Whilst the true depths of his mind were places you would never be able to understand or dive into, you knew that he was calculating again. Weighting whether obeying your silent plea would promise him a bigger reward later on or if proceeding and following his current desires would provide him with a greater pleasure.

That silence was painful. It was heavy with uncertainty and the knowledge that no matter what he would decide on, you would have to comply with.

Only when his hold loosened and that calculative gleam slowly simmered down were you sure that he had decided against letting sexual desire guide him once more. In the back of your mind you knew that this meant that he would only demand more from you another time but right now, in the present, you felt more at ease with that decision.

You felt yourself almost fully relaxing, only a slight stiffness remaining within your body that had become a constant alert simply due to his presence. Still, it was the closest to peace that you were capable of feeling so you took it. Even as your body was smushed against his, even as you felt the few chaste kisses that he pressed against your forehead and face. Nevertheless, you willed yourself to relax as you closed your eyes, hoping to doze off and start this day again. The words that Chrollo murmured softly next had you slowly opening them again once more.

"The rest of the spiders is coming later today. There's something important that I have to discuss with them. Why don't you come with me?"

The idea of seeing other people made your heart race. The idea of seeing some very specific people again made your heart drop. You got along more or less with all of the spiders, only because you were Chrollo's darling. Yet you would never deny that you had clear preferences with whom you would rather spend your time with. After having been surrounded with nothing but Chrollo for so many weeks though, you would gladly endure Feitan's scary scowls, Machi's sharp glares and Shalnark's eery grins. So you nodded quietly in agreement, already brainstorming what clothes you should wear. As long as you would be able to cover everything up, you'd be good to go.

Another kiss, close to your ears. followed by a pleased hum due to your answer.

"We should make sure that you look extra pretty today then. It's been a while since they've seen you and I want to show them how far you've come since the last time. I'll help you choose your clothes for later."

All semblance of relaxation was gone when his words reached your brain as the familiar rigidness returned, the unease back as if it had never been gone in the first place.

"Wait, wha-"

This time his lips met yours, the sensation as cold and as alienating as always.

“Don’t cover my love bites or else I’m going to add more.”

[bloodxbat]

Heyyy, could you do an NSFW fic with Spencer where it’s best friends to lovers and they’re roommates and maybe it’s a really hot day and readers barely wearing anything and Spencer can’t control himself etc 🫶🫶

Hey Anon! absolutely I can!! I had so much fun writing this, I've not written a fan fiction in so long so I hope this is ok!!

My requests and taglist are open so feel free to send me a wee message!!

Hope you enjoy the fic :))

Can’t Control Myself

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Smut!!! 18+, MDNI, P IN V sex, unprotected, creampie, oral (fem), best friends to lovers, swearing! Dom Spence, Praise, Marking kink, all the good stuff 

Reblogs help me stay motivated to keep writing fics! :))

Taglist: @writing-wh0re Message to be added 

Word Count: 2,649

Prompt(s) used: none

Summary: You and Spencer have been best friends for 3 years, you’ve lived together for almost 2 now. Spencer has always had a ‘’thing’’ for you but has always been way too shy to admit it. On a particularly hot day he loses control of himself over the clothes (or lack thereof) you’re wearing. 

Masterlist

The apartment you and Spencer shared was small, which made this weather even more unbearable. Books piling up, almost touching the ceiling keeping in all the heat, stopping cold fresh air from coming in. Any outfit you put on was just sticking to your skin in an instant. The fabrics attach themselves as if they were part of your skin. You huff out a frustrated sigh as you peel off yet another outfit that suffocated you in this heat. 

Throwing your wardrobe all over your room trying to find the loosest outfit you owned you finally found something. ‘Please let this one help, please’ you thought to yourself as you pulled on the clothes. 

You’d found a black short-sleeved crop top, so short that it barely covered your tits when you lifted your arms, and a pair of loose fabric shorts that showed off the underside of your ass accenting its curves under them. A sigh escapes your lips, you sway your hips and air brushes itself up your skin giving temporary relief from the heat. 

Finally having found your outfit you make your way out your room and down the small hall leading to the living room/kitchen to grab a cup of ice cold water. Spencer was sitting on the brown leather couch that took up the centre of the room in front of the TV, which was not switched on of course as Spencer would never ‘’waste his free time watching that thing’’. You chuckled to yourself as you noticed he was reading The Odyssey for the hundredth time it felt. 

Brushing your hand over his shoulders you greet him 

‘’Hey Spence’’ you smile walking into the kitchen area.

Spencer looks up from his book feeling your slight friendly touch, turning round to see you in the kitchen. You were stretching up on your tiptoes to reach the cupboard where the glasses were kept. His eyes went wide, your crop top and short had rode up your body at the movement. Exposing your skin, your curves, your perfection. He had never seen so much of you before. 

‘’H-hi Y/N’’ he manages to stutter out, clearing his throat.

‘’The Odyssey again Spence?’’ You ask not looking at him as you grab ice from the freezer, bending over in front of him. 

Was this a dream, his eyes didn’t leave you, devouring your body. His mouth was salivating, he wanted too much to know how you tasted, how you felt. He hadn’t even processed your question before you were walking over to him, glass in hand waving in front of his eyes.

‘’Earth to Spencer’’ You chuckle

‘’S-sorry I lost track- wh-what did you uhm whatdidyousay?’’

‘’I asked if you were seriously reading The Odyssey again? Does it not bore you?’’

‘’Yes i’m reading it again and no of course it doesn’t bore me, this is one of the greatest classics of all time!’’

You chuckle at his passion for the book. Taking a seat next to him, taking the book out his hands, your fingers brushing his skin slightly, such a small gesture but enough that his vision was turning blurry and his mind racing. You could feel his eyes on you, burning into your skin so you looked up at him. 

Spencer was wearing a white loose fitting linen shirt, the top button undone exposing the skin of his chest to you, and brown hemp trousers. Even in this heat he still tries his best to look professional, even from the comfort of his own apartment.

‘’Everything ok Spencer?’’ Your voice filled with genuine concern, looking at your friend he doesn’t seem quite himself. He is normally hyper focused, aware of every surroundings, given the nature of his job, it's not paranoia it's just…him, but now he seems distracted.

‘’I-’’ Spencer licks his lips trying to think of the words, the right words to tell you how he really feels. How all these years he has found you the most beautiful woman he has ever laid his eyes on. How he’s up late at night thinking about you, what he could do to you, how he could make you scream his name. How you would feel pinned below him. He could feel himself begin to grow at the thought, your touch bringing him out of his thoughts. 

You placed your hand on his arm, stroking your thumb along his skin. Waiting patiently for him to answer. His deep brown eyes caught yours, god his eyes were beautiful, you could stare into them all day. You felt strange thinking of your friend this way but it also felt so right. You couldn’t deny that Spencer Reid wasn’t attractive, he wasn’t named ‘pretty boy’ for nothing because he certainly was that. 

‘’You’re driving me crazy’’ Spencer says suddenly, his voice low and raspy.

‘’W-what?’’ your breath hitched in your throat at his sudden boldness.

‘’You heard me pretty girl’’ his eyes stare holes into yours with burning passion ‘’You’re driving me. Crazy’’ he emphasises the last word. 

Spencer shuffles closer to you, grabbing your hand and taking it off its place on his arm. The cool air touching your palm from where his warm skin used to be moments before. Your eyes never leave his, as you watch him lick his lips once more. 

‘’Wearing this outfit, practically naked…fuck’’ he groans

Spencer rarely swears in fact you've only ever heard him swear when he clumsily bumps his head off of a shelf. My god it was hot, those types of words just rolling off his tongue.

‘’It’s getting harder to control myself around you Y/N, ever since I laid eyes on you, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. 3 years, for 3 long years i’ve not stopped thinking about you, thinking how you would feel, how you would-’ he paused letting his eyes roam over you ‘how you would taste’’

His words cause a heat to form in between your legs, a wetness forming on your shorts. It was only then you notice the bulge appearing in Spencer's trousers, the zip practically about to burst up against him. 

‘’Why don’t you come and find out’’ You don’t know where this bold side of you came from but the way it turned the expression on Spencer's face to complete lust, his eyes growing darker from your words. You hope that the image burned itself into your eyes so you would never forget it. 

Without hesitation his lips were on yours. The kiss was soft and gentle at first, his lips were so smooth and inviting, they felt so familiar to you, like they were meant to be on yours and only yours. You could feel his tongue graze your bottom lip slightly wanting more you open your mouth inviting him in. Your tongues dance at first, softly brushing over each other, he tasted of coffee, humming against him at the taste. The kiss became more hungry, tongues battling for dominance which Spencer of course won. 

He pushed you down so you were beneath him on the couch, his hands grazing up your sides causing you to shiver. His hands reached your breasts that lay under your shirt, his fingers found their way to your hard nipples, pinching them softly. Your back arched up into him as you moaned softly at the sensation. You could feel him pulse onto you through his trousers at your noises. 

‘’That feel good?’’ he smirks, his lips travelling down your jaw and onto your neck, sucking and biting. 

‘’Mhmm, p-please spence’’ you hand made its way into his golden brown curly hair that stuck to the nape of his neck from sweat, tugging slightly as he continued to kiss down your neck. Ripping your shirt off of you to get a better look at your body beneath him.

‘’Fuck’’ he groaned, his eyes taking in every inch of your exposed skin. ‘’So fucking beautiful why didn’t I confess sooner’’ 

Before you could say anything his lips are back on you, attacking your skin sucking every inch he could find leaving red marks behind him. 

‘’S-spence’’ You gasp at all the marks

‘’Shh, I’m marking you as mine, d’you understand me? Everyones gonna know who you belong too’’

His words were like sex itself to your ears, the very thought of everyone being able to see that he had his way with you causing a pool to form soaking your thighs. Your fingers made their way to his chest, undoing the buttons on his shirt pushing the material off his shoulders. His chest was so smooth and toned, your eyes roamed over the sight in front of you causing Spencer to smirk. 

‘’Like what you see?’’ he says

All you can do is nod, taking your bottom lip in between your teeth, then looking into his lust filled eyes. 

‘’Good- because it’s all yours angel’’ 

It didn’t take long before the rest of your clothes were discarded on the floor. Both of you tangled in a hot mess on the couch skin sticking to the leather beneath. Spencer started to train his kisses along your chest. Teasing your already hard nipples with his tongue, soft moans spilling out your mouth. He continues his way down further, nestling his head between your thighs, wrapping his arms under you keeping you in place. 

Feathering kisses on your inner thighs, nipping at the soft skin slightly, your back arching up into him. Silently begging for more. 

‘’Need you to use your words if you want something angel’’ He continues to kiss your soft skin.

‘’P-please Spencer’’ 

‘’Please what?’’

‘’I n-need you please’’

‘’Want me to taste you angel is that what you want?’’

He wasn’t continuing until he got confirmation from you. 

‘’Mhmm’’ you nod, looking down at him. The sight of him looking up at you through your thighs drove you crazy.

Without warning Spencer slammed his lips against your heat. Lewd noises filling your small shared flat. His tongue sliding between your wet folds, lapping up every bit of you, savouring your sweet salty taste. Spencer could’ve came right there, he groaned onto you as he sucked on your clit, causing vibrations to shoot right through you. Waves of pleasure bringing you to the edge. 

Who knew Dr Spencer Reid was so damn good with his tongue. You reached down, tangling your fingers in his hair, tugging him closer to you as you neared release. 

‘’Fuck Spencer oh my-’’ You moaned breathlessly. 

‘’Taste. So. fucking. Good.’’ Spencer said between licks. Not wanting to be away from your heat for even a second. 

Your grip on his hair got tighter, earning a groan from him. 

‘’You gonna cum angel? Go on, cum on my tongue, wanna taste you so fucking bad’’

His words sent you over the edge. The knot in your stomach unleashing as you reached your high all over his face. Waves of pleasure coursing through your body, your legs going limp, that was the most powerful orgasm you’ve ever had. Spencer moaned onto you as he hungrily lapped up all of your juices. He pulls back, his chin glistening with you all over him, licking his lips before crawling up to be face to face with you.

‘’Good girl’’ he groans softly before taking your lips with his. You could taste yourself on his tongue. 

Spencer's hard length brushed up your folds. The sensation causes you to shiver. His tip was red, angry, needing attention. He positioned himself outside your hole. 

‘’Gonna fuck you now angel, otherwise i’ll lose control’’

‘’Please- please fuck me’’ desperation on your tongue. Hearing you talk to him like this drove Spencer crazy. Knowing he was the one to make you this way. Slurring your words with absolute pleasure. 

He slowly thrust forward, stretching you out. Your mouth hung open at his size, it felt unlike you've ever felt before, pain, pleasure, it was almost overwhelming. You gripped onto Spencer's skin so tight, your nails dug into his flesh leaving crescent shapes. Silent moans falling from your mouth as your foreheads touched together. 

‘'M’gonna move now angel ok?’’ Spencer groaned

He slowly pulled out, almost all the way before thrusting back into you, he was so deep you could feel him in your stomach. That first thrust forced out the most sinful moan, the noise going straight to Spencer's cock, he practically collapsed into your neck. He continued to thrust in and out of your wet cunt, the sounds of skin slapping filling the air. 

‘’Mm oh- fuck Y/N, so fucking tight’’ 

His pace quickened, your body shaking with pleasure. You didn’t care how loud you were being, you wanted people to know who you belonged to, who made you feel this way. Spencer's mouth was beside your ear, whimpering and moaning with every thrust he made into you. Your walls clench around him with every noise he made. 

‘’I’m not gonna last if you keep tightening around me sweetheart’’

‘’Please- wanna feel you’’

‘’What do you wanna feel angel?’’

He never stopped thrusting into you, he was going unbearably fast, you were definitely going to have a few bruises tomorrow. 

‘’Cum S-spencer, please gotta feel it’’

Your words cause blood to rush straight to his length.

‘’Fuck Y/N where do you want me to cum hmm? Getting so fucking close’’

‘’I-inside Spence, p-lease’’

‘’Are you sure?’’

‘’Yes- please need to feel it, fill me up Spencer please’’

He would like nothing more.

‘’Whatever you want, angel’’ he groaned, continuing to pound into you. He was so close, both of you breathless and sweating all over each other. Your eyes lock, both mouths agape with pleasure. Spencer's eyes turn dark, they turn lustful, he is close. You push yourself up against him more. 

‘’Fuck’’ He almost shouts, moaning loud as he releases thick white ropes into you, coating your twitching walls. The feeling of him cumming into you causing you to reach your second release. Eyes rolling to the back of your head with pleasure, you didn’t realise you were drooling over yourself. Spencer reached his thumb up, wiping it away, still inside you, waiting for both of you to catch your breath before pulling out. 

Spencer focussing on your convulsing hole watching as his cum spilled out of you, the sight almost enough to make him ready for round two. He got up and grabbed a damp cloth cleaning you both up, before pulling you into his arms.

‘’That was-’’ You begin still breathless and speechless from what you just did.

‘’Amazing’’ he finished your sentence for you.

‘’How long?’’ you asked, looking up at him, tracing shapes on his exposed glistening chest ‘’How long have you felt this way?’’

‘’Honestly- since the day I met you’’ he confessed, all you could do was stare at him with a smile creeping on your face. 

‘’I was too scared to say anything, I didn't want to ruin the friendship we had, you were, are, too special for me to lose’’ Your heart warming at this confession.

‘’But seeing you in that outfit…I just couldn’t keep it to myself any longer, I'm just glad you feel the same way’’ He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple. 

You grab his face and lightly kiss him on the lips. Sighing into him pressing your foreheads together. 

‘’I’m glad I chose this outfit then’’ You chuckle leaning your head up against his shoulder. 

You both stayed there, naked on the couch, holding each other. You convinced Spencer to watch TV with you, he actually enjoyed the show but he would never admit it. Neither of you got up to put clothes on, it was too warm for that. 

You fell asleep watching TV snuggled into him, your soft snores peeling Spencer’s eyes away from the screen. Not wanting to wake you he just smiled and kissed you softly.

‘’Good night Angel’’ he whispered.

[artyandink]

hyperthermia

Summary: Based on a request by @yinorathedragontamer. You needed a break from hunting, so you didn’t go on the latest one, but found you needed something to occupy your time. Just your luck that the Winchesters happened to return home when you were washing Baby, and you caught the eye of a certain someone.

A/N - Banners in use by @cafekitsune, first entry for Jensen-A-Thon!

TW: Set in S9 (so hot, scruffy Dean guys), and blatant checking out/fantasising

Want to request something? Drop a message in my ask box!

Want to join my Dean Winchester (or any other Jensen character) taglist? Go to my main master list and find the Forms link!

Dean and Sam ambled back into the bunker, duffel bags carried by their taut arms like they’d done a million times before, so what should be a bag of bricks was a feather. Dean swept his hand over his mouth while Sam’s went through his hair, both ready to crash from the wear and tear of the hunt.

“I swear, m’ready to goddamn pass out.” Dean chuckled, nails scratching over the scruff that had grown on his cheek. He’d been hit a few times - not enough to cause bruises and whatnot - hard enough to cause fatigue once the adrenaline of the fight was used and faded.

Sam could only grunt in agreement, trying to rub the effects of a long drive from Oregon out of his eyes, paired it’s the disgruntlement of having to listen to rock tracks in the car. “You and me both. But hey, we should at least visit-”

“Roger that.” Dean cut Sam off before he could finish, in search of you. You were always a sight for sore eyes after a hunt, no matter what you were dressed in or if you were covered in blood; he enjoyed the vision that you were. More than he cared to admit.

He checked your bedroom, but he only found an unusually neat bed and a clean room, which was a rare occurrence for you and had him thinking that you were kidnapped, which prompted him to take out his gun.

You never did up your bed.

He crept through the hall, hoping to the good God that his boots didn’t squeak, but then familiar humming of ‘Stairway to Heaven’ caught the attention of his ears, originating from the garage. Followed by his arrival there, where he spotted you. And it wasn’t only just the sight of you that had him standing up straight.

You, in nothing but a soaked through plaid shirt tucked into some tight denim shorts, the sleeves of the plaid rolled up to your elbows and drawing his attention to your pretty hands. Hair damp and falling just right and had him biting his lip and fighting off the urge to ruin your friendship entirely. Droplets of water running down your neck, that damn sexy curve of your slightly bent legs and trailing beneath the v-shaped neckline that the collar of your shirt made that he was starting to think was made on purpose to make him go insane.

The image was too damn sinful. And he was suddenly not so tired and ‘ready to goddamn pass out’, more like licking his lips and biting the bottom one as he folded his arms over his chest. Eyes trained on you. Yeah, not so tuckered out anymore and ready to catch the full nine.

His bed can go to hell, he wanted you pinned against the bonnet of his Baby, legs spread wide so he could fit in between and show you how much he appreciated the job well-goddamn-done. Did he mention you were washing Baby? Probably not, he was too distracted with the way your hips were swaying as you stepped to cover another part of his beloved Impala with soap suds that then trickled down your own body and made your attire that much more see through and you that much more delicious.

Holy Jesus of Nazareth, you were giving his self control a run for its money. And his self control was likely to lose the money and go bankrupt if he wasn’t distracted pronto.

Wait- but why was he objectifying you? You were doing him a solid by cleaning the other girl of his dreams, why the hell would he think about your legs like that? And your body clearly outlined by the wet, clingy material of your shirt that he was starting to feel jealous of because he wanted to be that close to you.

No. Bad Dean.

He licked his lips again, his hips shifting slightly as he fought a clearing of his throat in case it’d alert you of his presence. His mossy eyes trained so precisely on you, it’d probably let you know he was there anyway, heat radiating from his gaze.

He didn’t want to think about the curve of that pretty neck. Or the way it’d feel under his lips.

Neither did he want to think about those delicate hands - that he knew were tough as hell - holding the sponge that was lathering up his Baby. Or the way they’d feel working his - nope, too far.

Definitely not the way the shirt looked like it now had to be peeled off your skin to reveal the treasure underneath, because god-holy-damn he had managed to catch a glimpse of black lace underneath that plaid. He’d happily unwrap you like a frickin’ present and it wasn’t even Christmas for about six months.

“Damn, pretty girl.” He muttered, running a hand through his hair that was begging to let his feet walk over, grab your hip and pull you into him so he could lick up your neck to collect all the water droplets running down them. What he wouldn’t give to just pop the button on those shorts, get to his knees and work you until his tongue ached.

Right there. Right-frickin’-there. Against his Baby-

“Pretty girl? That’s what we’re calling her now?” Sam muttered into his ear with a snort, not loud enough for you to hear as you bent over Baby’s bonnet in just the right way to have Dean’s eyes sliding down to that gorgeous ass framed in those shorts that should damn well be illegal.

Dean was snapped partially out of his thoughts, left embarrassed and disgruntled and somewhat still ogling that God-blessed ass before he followed Sam through the halls, the latter of which was sporting a smug smirk. “H-Hey, I was just-”

Sam raised his hands in surrender with a small laugh, looking back to Dean knowingly. “Hey, if you wanna check out her ass, do it at your own risk.”

“I wasn’t checking out her…” Dean got an image of it again and smirked slightly, jerking his head to the side, “yeah, maybe I was, so what? Can you blame me? That thing’s-”

Sam held up a finger, shivering in borderline discomfort as his mind filled the blank. “I’m gonna TMI you before you say it.”

“I’m just sayin’, I’m a man. I have needs, where a female who’s a badass hunter and also happens to be gorgeous and also happens to live with us is concerned. And it’s worse when she’s handlin’ my Baby.” He gave Sam a sheepish grin, but the younger Winchester only shook his head in mock disapproval, grabbing the duffel with his pyjamas.

“I’m going to bed.”

“You do that.” Dean grabbed his own duffel, heading to his room which, to his luck, passed the garage and you working on the car. You managed to lock eyes with him, and you gave him a cheery wave. He returned it, and as you turned, his eyes slid down to the curve of your ass again, eyebrows pumping once as a smirk stretched his pouty lips.

“I’ll see you in my dreams, sweetheart.” He muttered before he disappeared off to his bedroom to live his fantasy.

Meanwhile, you dried your face and neck off with a chuckle, going back to your room to change into some get into some drier and more comfortable clothing with a smug smirk on your face.

You’d noticed Dean through Baby’s newly cleaned mirror that you could probably sing ‘Reflection’ from Mulan in. His eyes taking you in and licking his lips like you were the latest snack he wanted to devour. His hands itching to touch you, his mind going blank when you pushed out your ass on purpose in order to catch his attention.

That was just phase one of your multi-step plan to strip Dean Winchester of his self control where you were concerned.

“Mission accomplished.” You muttered under your breath with a giggle.

I’d really appreciate feedback, loves! Have a great day!

TAGLIST: @k-slla @hobby27

[quixotical-lymbo]

Hi ! Just discovered you through your D-16 x reader fic and your writing is MWAH MWAH yummy 😋 ahhhh thank youuu, I've been craving for tf one fics, I want to request a short fic with D-16, Orion Pax and Gn! Reader who's a racer from that various reader prompts you posted awhile ago? Anything else is up to you! Go wild

Thank youuuu 🫶💐

Pairing: D-16, Orion Pax x gn!racer!Reader Rating: SFW Summary: Showcasing your appreciation for your fans leads to an unlikely encounter.  Warnings/Tags: Pre-canon, cybertronian!reader with a cog, size difference, awkward flirting??, forehelm kisses, and fluff.  A/N: Aww ty for the love! Hope you enjoy :) Word Count: 800+ words 

"What are we doing back here?" Came a rushed whisper from one bot. 

"What does it look like, genius? We're here to meet, ___."

"What?! You said you wanted to show me something, not break into a racer's personal quarters!"

"Psh, I bet they meet all sorts of fans back here all the time, besides, I'm sure they won't mind the bot they blew a kiss at to come and meet them backstage." 

"...you mean me?" 

"You?" 

"They blew the kiss at me."

"My friend, you need to get your optics checked, I'm pretty sure that kiss was meant for-" 

Orion didn't get to finish his sentence when the door to your quarters opened and your shiny figure stepped out and into the hallway. You glanced down at your newly filed digits before glancing up to spot two small, cogless bots standing in front of you. 

"...." 

"..."

"Why, hello there…where did you two come from?" Your voice was as warm as the sweetest energon and caused the tense mechs to ease up. You crouched before the two and placed your servos on your knee pads. One mech was blue and red, a lot more colorful in appearance and personality compared to his standoffish, silver colored mech companion. They were obviously miners from what you could tell from their chipped paint and dusty frames. 

The blue and red mech cleared his throat and prepared to speak until he was nudged back by his friend.

"We were lost! Yeah, we didn't mean to come…all the way here," The silver mech gave his friend a side-optic glare. 

"Could you help us find our way out?" The red mech briefly met his companion's shocked expression with a teasing smirk before switching his bright gaze onto you. "The name's Orion Pax, this mech over here is-"

 

"-D-16, nice to meet you…I'm…your biggest fan! I've been to almost all of your races and-" D-16 stammered out his introduction and seemed to be digging a further hole for himself as he rambled on. His friend watched with a familiar fondness before he snapped his gaze to the racer when their bell-like laugh rang out. 

"Aren't you two the cutest fans I've met," You cooed before pushing yourself up to stand. "I'll show you the way out, follow me." 

Orion pumped a servo when you turned away and winked at D-16 as he went to walk by your side. D-16 only rolled his optics and quickly went to catch up. 

“So, ____, how do you win like all the time?” Orion started the conversation. 

“Practice makes perfect,” You replied with a smile. 

“And what do you do when you lose?” Came the interesting inquiry from the silver mech. Realizing how his question might imply something bad, “I mean, how do you deal with the pressure of needing to be the best? I couldn't imagine having all those optics on me at all times.” 

You giggled and mulled over his question for a few nanokliks. “Well, I suppose I don't beat myself up about losing a race, after all the races would be boring if my rivals weren't on my level.” 

“Right! Makes sense. I, uh, thank you." D-16 felt his face plate warm as your bright optics made contact with his. 

"You're welcome, thank you two for seeing me,” You stopped when the exit came into view. “I haven't had this much fun in a while, I hope to see you too at the finish line again.” 

“We'll be there, ” Orion nodded as he nudged D-16 toward the exit. 

D-16 bit his bottom derma before turning back around and walking over to you. 

“Can…can I get a signature?” 

You blinked before your dermas curved in happiness at the timid request made by the mech. You see, instead of signing merch the regular way, you usually left your ‘mark’ on any special fan who caught your attention. It was a very rare occurrence which is why those bots claimed they'd never wash the mark off. 

 You crouched down and tilted the mech's helm back by curling a digit under his chin. D-16's breath was caught in his intake as your dermas pressed against his helm. He stood there frozen even when Orion came to his side and asked for a mark as well.

You obliged and kissed his helm as well. 

Orion leaned into it as you pulled away, you stifled a laugh as you booped his nose to snap the red and blue mech out of his daze. 

“Well…I'll see you two at the next race,” You mused before turning to leave. 

Orion and D-16 were standing there, pedes frozen to the ground as they processed the previous events. 

“Guess that blown kiss was meant for both of us.” 

D-16 only rolled his optics before smacking Orion's arm.

😼 - I do not give permission for anyone to translate, copy, republish, or plagiarize any of my written works. I provide no permission for any of my literary works to be used in artificial intelligence. like my writing? consider buying me a kofi :)

banner(s) by @dollywons !!

[thatonetargaryen]

My Fists Ricochet

Ambessa Medarda x Reader

Alternate ending to: My Tears Ricohect

Synopsis: After you find your wife, Ambessa, in the act of infidelity—you and Mel speed away in a car, leaving your wife in the dust. Filled with sorrow and regret for her actions, she decides to track you down and apologize. Those feelings of sorrow change into confusion as the two of you suddenly disappear without a trace. And when she finds out why—her tears come to a halt as her fists are forced to ricochet.

cw; mentions of kidnapping; infidelity; bondage (not kinky); angst; blood/violence; not proofread; men and minors dni

Special thanks to @hell0-ki55y for original prompt and @misschuli for alternate ending prompt. Hope the two of you enjoy 🎀

…….

Ambessa stared at the car as it sped off, leaving her and her emotions in the dust. The bewilderment she felt was almost immediately replaced with guilt and regret for what she had done. Her chest heaved as she looked towards the ground. It took her moments before she gathered the strength to move.

She turned on her heel, and began her shameful walk up the stairs and towards her manor. She prayed—for his sake—that the brothel worker wasn’t there. Her emotions were all over the place, and she wouldn’t know what she’d do if she saw him there.

Thankfully, when she walked into the manor, he was no where to be seen. Only spilled wine and the smell of sex filled the room. She grimaced at the smell closed her eyes. She barked for one of the nearby servants to clean the mess.

No servant came.

She opened her eyes, and no servant was present nearby. It was completely silent. Not even her guards were present. She rolled her eyes as she remembered dismissing all the guards and servants so that she would be alone with the boy.

Ambessa groaned, but ultimately went into a nearby kitchen and got a bowl of hot soapy water, a rag, and a towel.

She dragged herself towards the main area. She went to her knees as she began to clean the warm wine off the white floors.

As she scrubbed, her mind couldn’t help but drift to her wife. The face she made when she could her in the act. It was one of pure betrayal. One of a woman watching over fifteen years of marriage being flushed down the drain. The star in her eye fading, now becoming nothing but a dim light, reminding Ambessa of a distant memory.

She thought of the recent years. How she slowly started to turn away from your affection, treating it as if it were the plague. How she avoided your warm greetings and replied with short, stifled one—or none at all. How she’d left you in a cold bed in hopes that would toughen the walls she fought so hard to build.

She thought of an incident that happened just two years prior. You had arranged a small gathering—nothing too big. It would be just the two of you, sitting under the stars eating cake and drinking the finest of wines. Something calm and romantic, just how she liked it. You gave her small invitation on her pillow to look at when she woke up—a bit corny, but full of warmth and love. It had a place and time—one where you knew she would be off duty. You had hoped she would take the time off to come.

That night, you waited under the stars. Alone. The scenery was beautiful, and yet, Ambessa was never there to fill it. It took you over two hours to realize she wasn’t coming.

She had gotten caught up in ‘work’—or at least that was the weak excuse she was given you. You shouted and complained at her, saying how she was putting duty over the relationship.

She looked you in the eye that night and said you were overreacting. Being ridiculous. That you wouldn’t understand what it takes to have responsibility.

You cried into your pillow that night, and your relationship had been strained ever since.

Ambessa became more vigorous in her scrubbing as tears clouded her vision. Not long after the argument, she started taking paramours into her bed. She had men and women alike, anyone but you. By distancing herself from you, she thought, it would allow her to make the necessary to protect her family.

Every time she did something—she thought about you. Whether it be making a political decision or agreeing to an alliance, your voice spoke in the back of her mind. What would you think? What would you say? Would you agree to this?

That’s all she asked herself—and she fucking hated it.

The once ruthless and formidable leader had been softened by the gentle voice of her wife. The thought came to her in the deepest depths of the night, and she couldn’t shake it away.

She couldn’t even have a good fuck without thinking about you.

She knew this would happen eventually. You would find out about her infidelity and walk out on her—just as everyone else had. The thought of the thorn in her side finally being gone did nothing but please her.

But she didn’t know it would hurt so much. To see your heartbroken eyes as you caught her red-handed in the act of doing something she thought would protect the both of you.

Ambessa threw the rag down as she reached up both of her hands and rubbed her eyes and cheeks as tears of frustration ran down her face. She rose from her knees and turned away—the mess being long forgotten.

She walked out of the main room and into the hallway. Her footsteps halted as she leaned against a nearby wall. She held her face in her hands as her heart raced in her chest.

Her fists clenched at her sides, and she couldn’t stop the endless stream of tears that cascaded down her face.

…..

You leaned on Mel’s shoulder as you bit your lip. You couldn’t even bring yourself to cry—but you knew the tears would come again eventually.

Mel held you but said nothing, already knowing you had seen everything you needed to. When the girl first saw her mother with the paramour, her heart fell to her feet. She berated her mother, telling her to consider your feelings. Telling her to stay loyal. That she would regret it sooner or later. And by the look on her face before the car drove off—she did.

If Mel hadn’t hated her mother before—she definitely did now. And the more she looked into your empty, heartbroken eyes—the more her resentment grew. Sending her away from her home—away from you—and now this? She would have to get on her hands and knees if their relationship would ever be resolved.

The car came to a stop, but you made no move to get out the car. You furrowed your brows as you surveyed your surroundings.

Mel spoke up, “Excuse me, sir, this isn’t our stop.”

The driver ignored her as he continued to look forward.

You looked up at Mel as you straightened, “Mel, whose car are we in?”

Mel’s heart drummed against her chest. “I-I waved down the car….They were just driving circles in front of the manor….Now that I think about it—”

“Dammit, Mel”, you gritted through your teeth as you checked the door—and to your horror, was locked.

You jumped out of your skin as the door was abruptly open and a man pressed a gun to your temple.

“If you want to live—I suggest you get out of the fuckin’ car.”

…..

Ambessa leaned over the table as she stared into the fire. She hadn’t moved in hours. The way the flames moved and danced atop the wood—it was the only thing distracting her mind and keeping her from going crazy.

Suddenly, a guard busted through the doors, and her head shot up. Her bloodshot eyes burned holes through the man as she gritted her teeth, “How dare you barge in my room without kno—”

“M’lady, my deepest apologies for intruding, but it has been brought to my attention that your wife and daughter are in danger. We must leave, now!”

She stilled as she heard those words, and only then noticed her son—Kino—with a worried look on his face as he stood behind a group of guards.

Ambessa shot up from her chair and wasted no time exiting the room and making her way towards the guard. “What happened?!”

“T-there was a woman who claims to have witnessed the two of them being forcibly taken out of a car and held at gun point. She ran off before she could do anything.”

Ambessa’s mind ran at a thousand miles per minute, “Is she sure that was Mel and Y/N?”

The woman spoke up as she held on tightly to a bag of groceries, “I’m sure of it, m’lady. It wasn’t too far from here, either.”

Ambessa’s fists clenched as her heart dropped. However, she knew she couldn’t break down—that would just waste time. “Assemble the guards and scout the nearby area—interrogate nearby residents. Split the team in two—and sent one half with me.”

The guard nodded stiffly, “Right away, General.”

She turned to her son, and they shared a quick look of concern. Her for her wife, and him for his mother. He spoke after a moment, “I’m going with you.”

Ambessa’s shoulders stiffened and she turned away, “Just don’t get in my way.”

…..

Your body was cold as your eyes moved around frantically, only to be met with darkness and the smell of potatoes. Your breathing picked up as you struggled against the rope around your wrist. The material burned through your skin, and you could already tell it would be bruised tomorrow.

The muffled cries of your daughter echoed throughout the cell, and you heard her shift on the cold floors. “M—Mom?”

Your ears perked up as you heard her call out. “I’m here, Mel. Breathe, child”

Her strained breathing was a clear sign of an anxiety attack, and the need to help her made you struggle against the rope harder. “Breathe, Mel. It’s gonna be alright. I’m here.”

Her heavy breathes quieted. A small moment of relief came to you, but it was soon taken when you heard a man’s voice call out. “A moment between mother and daughter, how touching.”

The sound of tools being played with echoed, “Enjoy it while it lasts.”

Before anything happens, a door is abruptly opened. The sound of wrestling, yelling, and fighting fills your ears. The smell of blood penetrates through the bag on your head, and your head starts to spin from the smell.

The rope around your wrists was suddenly cut with impressive precision, and the bag was gently taken off of your head. You looked up to meet Ambessa’s eyes, and all the anger you once felt dissipated into relief. “ ‘Bessa….”

She gently picked you up—bridal style—and carried you out of the cellar. You looked over her shoulder and sighed in relief as you see Mel being freed behind you.

You were placed inside of a car, and a blanket was thrown about your shoulders. Everything has happened so fast—so quickly—that you had no time to process it. The question ‘What just happened’ weighed heavy in your mind.

You felt a hand wrap itself around yours, and you looked up to find your son, Kino. The look of relive and tranquility was evident on his handsome face—but an underlying knowing look was present in his eyes. “Are you hurt?”

You shook your head, “No…at least not physically.”

The meaning behind your words didn’t go over Kino’s head as he noticed how you kept eye contact with Ambessa as you spoke. The woman sat across from you as she averted her gaze. You could see her jaw clench as she attempted to keep her stoic face. Even then—she couldn’t let her guard down. Now even in front of her children. You sighed in disappointment.

The car door opened and closed as Mel made her way into the car. Her hair was frazzled and her eyes were bloodshot from crying. She constantly rubbed her hands around her wrists. She stare straight forward at nothing in particular. She flinched when you threw the other half of your blanket over her shoulders. You brought her in and wrapped your arm around her shoulders. You let her learn on your shoulder as she gripped the covers for dear life.

You turned to Kino, “How’d you know we were there?”

He spoke up, though his voice was shaky and unstable—, “Uh….some lady saw what transpired. She reported it to one of the guards…”

You nodded stiffly, “I’m glad you got to me in time….I don’t know what would’ve happened if you all had gotten there any later.”

Ambessa closed her eyes, as if the very thought of what could’ve happened disgusted her.

Kino spoke again, “Did they say what they wanted?”

Mel shook her head, “The guards came before he could mention his intent.”

Ambessa inserted herself into the conversation and spoke in an even tone, “We’ll know when we conduct a thorough investigation on him and his posse.”

You bit your lip at her words, already knowing that investigation was just another word for torture.

You shook your head, “No matter, the fact that we’re all safe is what matters. I don’t want to dwell on it for long.”

Kino slightly chuckled at that, “You’ve always been like that…quick to dismiss everything and move on…I don’t know whether or not that’s a good thing.”

You smirked at his words, “Live’s too short to dwell on trying matters. Mel and I are safe, and the only thing on my mind is getting us all home. Together.”

Mel shuffled on your arm, “Together? That word doesn’t exactly describe the Medardas…”

You threw the blanket over Kino’s shoulder as you pulled him into you, “Tonight it will.”

And as Ambessa stared at the sight of the three of you lean in on each other, her resolve for fixing what she had done became stronger. Not just for herself—but for her children.

You brought a softness into this family. You were the glue that held them all together—and wouldn’t let go.

She’d be damned if she let what she had done destroy the bond the two of you had built.

……

Hope you enjoyed 🎀

I know it’s short, but I wanna start on the other alternate ending with Sevika. It’s much juicer 😈

[xx-lemon-drop-xx]

How would NRC (only 18+ characters) react to their fem s/o texting them "Come here, I'm horny"?

I'm so sorry these are so short. Your girls getting a bit burnt out as of late for some reason. Anyways, I hope you like them <33

Warnings: MDNI, fem reader, suggestive but not really smutty, mentions of boners.

Request: Yes.

Words: 1,130.

Trey Clover

Trey was working on frosting a cake with Riddle when he received the text from you. And thankfully Riddle was short because he damn near choked at the message. A blunt, “Come. I'm horny." Was all you had sent.

However, catering to your needs, he let Riddle know something important had come up and he had to go tend to a leak in your roof. Riddle of course sensing the urgency had nodded with a simple; “Go, I can manage the frosting." Trey felt no remorse for fibbing to his friend and dorm leader, and went off to find you at Ramshackle.

Entering the broken down household he smiled gingerly over at you. "You needed me, peach? Go and lay back on the bed. I'll take care of you."

Cater Diamond

Cater was at the Light Music club when you texted him, and just in case it was urgent or some spicy drama from magicam had checked his phone right away. It was spicy, just in a way he hadn't thought it'd be. His face slowly flushed a red, gaining the attention of Kalim, who had asked if he was okay.

Cater cleared his throat, nodding. “Uh… Yes! Ah haha, I'm okay! Sorry, I just got distracted there for a minute.” While Kalim was none the wiser, the old fae on the other hand, was.

After he finished the club Cater quickly made his way to your dorm, shoving open your door he crawled over you, leaning down to press a searing kiss against you. “Hahh.. Babydoll, you can't just text me like that out of the blue!”

Leona Kingscholar

You really think this man was anywhere but napping?

He was less than amused to stir awake from his phone going off, alerting him of a text message. And for a moment he wasn't going to even answer it, rather he'd just roll over and go back to bed but something prompted him to pick up that phone and boy was he glad he did.

A smirk formed across his face and he texted back a simple “Omw" before rolling out of bed, hair messy and clothes disheveled before making his way to your dorm. He was there in record time, falling across your bed and grasping your hips to make you straddle him. Yeah, some pussy was definitely better than sleeping.

“Feeling like a whore? Then sit on this cock and take it like a good girl."

Vil Schoenheit

He was at a photoshoot when you texted him. He'd frowned slightly at your blunt order but underneath was particularly amused. His little potato needed him?

"You're going to have to wait, lovely. Photoshoot is almost over.” He could almost feel the way your lips puckered into a pout on the other side of the phone as he got back into position for another photo after his short break. Thirty minutes later he was leaving the photoshoot.

And fifty minutes later he was coming into your dorm room, sliding off his shoes and over coat before leaning over you on the bed, pressing a light kiss to your forehead. “I'm sorry for being so long. Let me make it up to you, potato.” He dragged your hand up his leg onto the crotch of his pants, before moving to straddle you.

Rook Hunt

Was enjoying nature up in a tree when his phone buzzed in his pocket. On pulling it out and seeing your text message, you received back a slur of French, with a few heart Emojis after them. “English, Rook." His lips quirked at your sass. “On my way as we speak, Mon amour." He texted back, pocketing his phone before climbing down the tree.

Fast on his feet and in the area, Rook arrived at Ramshackle within five minutes. He hung his coat on the coat wrack and took off his shoes before padding up to your room.

“My petite amour, I have arrived.” He cupped your face, pressing light kisses against your chin and jaw. "Do tell me which part of me you crave first, Mon lapin.”

Idia Shroud

Thankfully Idia was in his room like always when he received your text. Instant red face. (And instant Idia jr peaking up but we don't talk about that) Almost thought you were tweaking or had text the wrong person, despite being your lover. However after getting his shit together he texts you back.

“Can you come here? I.. Might be in a predicament where I am unable to leave my room for a while."

When you came to his dorm instead of the other way around he had a pillow over his lap and his face and hair were both a light red in color. Grasping onto the pillow you pulled it off and crawled onto his bed after shutting and locking his door. Idia’s hands found purchase on your hips, pulling you down to straddle him. “Eheheh.. You have no idea how long I've waited for this." He grinned against your throat, before biting down on your shoulder to leave a hickey.

Malleus Draconia

Remains stone faced despite the very obvious tent rising in his trousers. If his tail were to be out it would've been wagging in slight excitement. Out of everyone, you might just be the only person to be able to boss around and command the prince of briar valley.

“You wish to mate with me? I will be over immediately, child of man." It takes him a moment to answer you. Not because he didn't see the message but because he still doesn't know how to use a phone that well still. Please be patient, he is very happy.

Appears outside your dorm as soon as he texts you back, eagerly knocking on your door in a beckon for you to let him in. As soon as you open the door he is grabbing you by the hips, guiding you against him. “My dearest peony, do feel free to seek me out everytime you have these feelings. I will be more than obliged to assist you.”

Lilia Vanrogue

Doesn't even answer your message. He was in history and then all of a sudden he was floating upside down in front of you. An amused look was on his face though despite the little grin his eyes were foggy with lust.

“Oh my what do we have here? Couldn't even keep your hands out of your panties in the short time it took me to get here? Fufufu~ let's have a look now, hmm?"

Lilia eagerly slots himself between your legs like he's always belonged there, nibbling and nipping at your legs as he makes his way up. “You taste exquisite, and I haven't even gotten to the main course yet.”

[witchywithwhiskey]

the mistletoe tradition

pairing: intern!bucky barnes x boss!female reader

summary: the young intern in your office catches you under the mistletoe for the fourth time during the office holiday party, and it leads to both of you confessing to the feelings you'd been hiding.

warnings: age gap romance (ages aren't specified, but reader is older—i imagined late 30s to Bucky's mid-to-late 20s), power imbalance relationship (but not really because of reasons explained in the fic), fluff, kissing, making out, some dry humping, some dirty talk, some dirty thoughts, implied/referenced sex, pet names (doll), happy ending

word count: 4.5k

a/n: here's my last entry for @the-slumberparty's december daze challenge, using the prompt: "How is the mistletoe following you around?" i wrote like three different versions of this fic and i wanted to include smut but i just ran out of time and energy. this month has been a lot harder than i thought it would be, so this is gonna be my last holiday fic. hope y'all enjoy ♡

december daze challenge masterlist

The cheerful chords of some pop star’s Christmas song filtered down the dim back hallway of the office building. The jaunty, joyful tune was the soundtrack of your awkwardness as you stared up at the little bundle of mistletoe that hung above your head. 

You looked back down at the person who, moments ago, caught up to you to wish you a final merry Christmas, and had then noticed and pointed out the mistletoe.

If it had been anyone else in the office, you would’ve laughed off your annoyance at being chased down when you were on your way home—because leaving the company Christmas party early was less of a faux pas when you co-owned the business—and given them a quick peck on the cheek. 

You’d been practically ecstatic to leave your employees to enjoy the festivities without you, even if all you had waiting at home was a bottle of wine and a cozy winter romance novel. But that joy had twisted into something else, something too tangled for you to decipher, when you saw who’d caught up with you.

Because it wasn’t your fellow co-owner Natasha Romanoff, or the rising star of the art department, Steve Rogers, who you’d been half-certain was flirting with you over the spiked eggnog earlier. It wasn’t even the obnoxious playboy that was Tony Stark, who only kept his job because he was a genius. 

No, the person who caught you alone, in the dark back hallway near your office, under some traitorous mistletoe, was the worst person in the office who could have—the intern, Bucky Barnes. The decidedly young and egregiously handsome intern, the one you had a little crush on, the one Nat teased you ruthlessly about finding insufferably attractive. 

“How is the mistletoe following you around?”

The whining words slipped from your lips before you could bite them back, your tongue loosened by the half glass of wine you’d sipped throughout the evening. The petulant tone of your voice should’ve been embarrassing, but you were too twisted up inside to care. 

Bucky had caught you under the mistletoe no less than three times in the few short hours you’d been at the company Christmas party, and if Nat hadn’t been conveniently across the party on each occasion, you would’ve thought she was setting you up to make a fool of yourself with the young intern. 

As it was, you’d demurred each time Bucky had found you under the mistletoe, offering him your cheek while your employees looked on and chanted for you to kiss. You’d thought a kiss on the cheek from the handsome intern would be fine, but it was anything but.

Each time Bucky had brushed his lips to your cheek, his rough stubble rasping against your soft skin, you’d lost your mind a little bit. When he kissed you, your heart rioted in your chest and your body went warm all over. When he was close, you breathed breathed him in; he smelled of bourbon and vanilla, and all the constant anxieties in your head went quiet. 

Each kiss on the cheek from Bucky Barnes had been delicious and intoxicating and wildly inappropriate. And you’d had to endure it three times. So you felt your petulant whine was entirely justified when he caught you under the mistletoe again. 

But Bucky only chuckled, one of his hands finding your lower back while the other caught your hand. He reeled you into his hard, firm chest, holding you close beneath the mistletoe.

Something about the embrace reminded you of an old couple slow dancing in their living room, and you almost smiled before you remembered you were annoyed and excited and curious about what Bucky was about to say.

“Just lucky, I guess.”

Mischief sparkled in Bucky’s blue eyes, the corners of his mouth curling up in a playful smirk, and you suddenly, desperately, wanted to kiss the expression off his face. 

But, of course, you didn’t.

Instead, you forced yourself to press your lips into an unamused line. You glanced over your shoulder and down the long hallway, where the rest of the company was laughing and talking and, if you weren’t mistaken, singing along to the Christmas music playing from someone’s bluetooth speaker. Then you turned back to the young intern.

“I’m going home, Mr. Barnes,” you said stiffly, knowing exactly what you were doing by referring to him so formally—creating some figurative space between the two of you. It was needed since your body seemed reluctant to pull away from his warmth and create actual physical space between you. “You should go back to the party.”

Bucky cut his eyes over your shoulder, giving the party a dismissive glance before returning his focus entirely to you. There was something heady about having the attention of the younger man, something you stubbornly wanted to ignore until you were home alone.

“I believe I’m still owed a kiss, doll,” Bucky murmured, the pet name rolling off his tongue so deliciously, it should be criminal, especially since you’d never heard him refer to anyone else with such an endearing nickname.

A fierce heat ignited between your thighs, spreading through the rest of your body like you’d just taken a big gulp of hot chocolate, and you gasped. At the last second, you tried to fix your face into a glare and make the sound come off as affronted, but somehow you knew you weren’t fooling Bucky. You certainly weren’t fooling yourself. 

“You shouldn’t call me that,” you huffed, attempting to hide the breathiness of your voice with annoyance. But your protest felt feeble when your hand had come to rest on Bucky’s bicep, which felt firm and nice beneath the bright green cardigan he’d worn to be festive for the party.

“Maybe I shouldn’t,” Bucky conceded, tilting his head to the side as he considered you. Then, so casually—like he thought if he did it casually enough, you might not notice—he brought your joined fingers up and settled your hand on his shoulder, leaving his arm free to wrap around your back. He held you close and stared into your eyes while he said, “But I think you like it.”

Another soft, sharp inhale sounded in the back hallway as you gasped. Heat rose to your cheeks, and you were forced to confront your body’s reaction to Bucky when he’d used the pet name. You had liked it, but you couldn’t tell him that.

“It’s unprofessional,” you muttered, because you couldn’t deny his observation without lying. 

But you couldn’t meet his eyes, your gaze lingering on the dark stubble dusted across his jaw like fresh snow. You could still feel the rasp of his scruff against your cheek and, for one wild moment, you wondered if it’d be just as wonderful to feel that delicious scrape against other parts of your body…

Bucky chuckled, and the low, mirthful sound took you by such surprise, you didn’t even think to protest when he spun you around and backed you up against the wall. His big body pressed in close, and when you glanced in the direction of the party, you found that you were shielded from sight by the large ficus you’d gotten to brighten up the hallway.

“You know what’s unprofessional, doll?” Bucky asked, the rough, nearly desperate tone of his voice dragging your attention back to him. 

The young intern’s blue eyes were heated, intense, and just a little bit melancholy, the mixture so tortured, it surprised you enough that you didn’t know what to say. He seemed to take your silence as your only response, and continued on. 

“It’s the way I can’t stop thinking about you,” he rasped, his eyes drifting down your face to alight upon your lips, his already darkened gaze deepening into the even more pitch-black of lust. “It’s the way I can’t stop wondering what it would be like to kiss you—really kiss you—the way a woman like you is meant to be kissed…” 

Bucky’s confession settled around your shoulders like a cozy sweater, so sweet and comforting that you wanted to bury your face in it and giggle as giddily as some lovestruck girl—and just as suddenly as you had that urge, you stopped your thoughts in their tracks. What were you doing, Bucky was too young for you! 

But…was he really? He was younger, sure, but he was a grown man. You were both adults. 

Of course, there was the issue of you being the boss of the company he worked for. But, actually, you couldn’t do anything without Nat’s input. So it wasn’t like you could abuse the power you had over him. 

But you and Bucky getting together would still be wrong…wouldn’t it?

The silence dragged out while you warred with yourself, and Bucky pulled back a little, his eyes darting around your face like he was trying desperately to read your thoughts. 

Somehow, that little bit of space he gave you felt like a whole gulf, which meant that this—whatever this was—had gone on too long. You gathered your professionalism around you like a coat of armor, sucking in a breath to let Bucky down easy. 

“Y’know what’s really unprofessional?” Bucky murmured, his tone turning teasing as he lifted a hand to cup your face gently. 

His thumb tapped your lower lip and you watched his eyes darken for a second before he shook his head and shot you a playful smirk. Then he answered his own question. 

“The way I can’t stop thinking about your pretty mouth when I’m supposed to be showing Fury how to convert a document into a PDF file,” he said, giving you an exaggerated, exasperated eye roll like he was asking, Can you believe my life?

A surprised laugh burst from your lips, taking you off guard. You caught a glimpse of the way Bucky’s eyes softened, and the grin that began to bloom as he took in your reaction, before you buried your face in his shoulder to muffle the sounds of your amusement. 

“I swear, I’m not laughing at you,” you managed to huff in between hysterical giggles, your voice nearly inaudible between your snorting and the cotton of Bucky’s sweater pressed to your mouth. 

You’d realized almost immediately how it must’ve looked for you to laugh at what Bucky said, and you didn’t want him to take it the wrong way—you just couldn’t get over the image he’d painted of your gruff, no-nonsense head of security, Nick Fury, trying to figure out how to save something as a PDF.

“I know,” Bucky murmured, his lips grazing your temple softly. You could feel his smile against your skin, and it sent warm tendrils of delight curling around your heart. “Fury’s so intimidating, no one would ever expect he’s completely hopeless with technology—the guy barely knows how to send an email.” 

You snorted and laughed harder even as you tried not to, because this was the worst part about your attraction to Bucky Barnes—you genuinely liked him. 

You didn’t cross paths with him too much, since his role was to help others around the office with odd jobs, and you had your own dedicated assistant. But when you got a moment with him while he was setting up the projector for a meeting, or fighting with the office copier, he never failed to make you laugh. 

He also never failed to make you question your resolve to never show him your true interest, even with Nat whispering in your ear that you should go for it. Most days, you didn’t waver from the decision you’d made not long after Bucky had joined the company to keep things professional.

But in that moment, with half a glass of wine mixing with his scent of bourbon and vanilla, making your mind feel fuzzy and light, you teetered on the edge of confessing everything you’d wanted to say to Bucky for months—how you thought about him all the time. 

How, especially after that evening at the party, you couldn’t stop thinking about what it would be like to let him kiss you. Really kiss you.

The thought sobered you, and you straightened up, leaning back as much as you could with Bucky’s arm still wrapped around your waist. You forced yourself to look him in the eye, prepared to put an end to the inappropriate moment you’d allowed to go on for too long. 

But your breath caught in your throat when you saw the sweet affection mixing with the sincere desire in his sparkling blue eyes. He was looking at you not like some young intern chasing after their older boss for the fun of it, but like a man who truly enjoyed your company and wanted to get to know you better. It was more than a little terrifying.

“You should…” you started to say, trying to tell him to go back to the party again, but the words died a quick death on your tongue. 

You couldn’t do it. You were so tired of pretending you didn’t have chemistry with Bucky, that you didn’t want to see where things could go with him if you just took the leap.

Bucky’s brows furrowed in a question while he waited for you to finish your sentence. When you didn’t, he began to pull away, like he was worried that he was crowding you too much—only for your fingers to dig into the soft fabric of his cardigan, halting his retreat before it had barely begun.

For a moment, Bucky froze, looking down at your hands clinging to him, a pleased smile spreading across his face when he realized you didn’t want him to pull away. Instead, you tugged him back against your smaller form so he was caging you in against the wall. 

Carefully—so, so carefully—he slotted his body against yours, his knee pushing between your thighs until your bodies were lined up perfectly, pressed so tightly you wondered if he could feel the way your heart was beating a hard, staccato rhythm against your ribs.

“You keep trying to tell me what I should do,” Bucky murmured, picking up the thread of your conversation as he ducked his face close enough to yours that you could smell the hot chocolate on his breath. “But until you tell me you want me to stop, I’m going to stick to the mistletoe tradition and kiss that pretty mouth of yours, doll.”

The word ‘stop’ was on the tip of your tongue. It was what you knew you should say, just like you knew you should extricate yourself from him and put an end to the inappropriate moment. But that wasn’t what you wanted. 

What you wanted—desperately, hopelessly—was for Bucky Barnes to kiss you.

The man’s eyes roamed over your face, bright and eager for your response. When you didn’t say anything for a long moment, his gaze dipped to your mouth and a rough noise sounded in his throat that was half growl, half moan—and all yearning. But he still held himself back.

“Tell me, doll,” he begged, his voie ragged like he’d just sprinted to you through a snowstorm. “Tell me you want this just as much as me.”

Instinctively, you angled your face closer to Bucky’s, so your mouths were almost slanted together. You could taste the sweet richness of the hot chocolate he’d drank at the party, and your lips tingled with the need to close the distance between you. 

You held out as long as you could, but the truth was, you’d somehow always known it would come to this. So you said the words that would condemn you to your fate and make your wildest dreams come true.

“Please, Bucky, I want this so bad,” you rasped in a voice husky with the depth of your desire for the man who had caught you under the mistletoe four times that evening. “Just kiss me already.”

Then, what you would’ve thought was the impossible happened—Bucky Barnes kissed you. 

And, boy, did he kiss you.

Bucky’s mouth crashed down on yours, stealing the breath from your lungs as his lips pushed and pulled against yours, dragging you into a steamy dance that had you gasping and opening for him. A groan rumbled in Bucky’s chest and vibrated across your tongue as his own plunged into your mouth. 

His hand cupped your face, tilting it exactly where he wanted you so he could kiss you harder, deeper. He kissed you like he’d been dreaming of it his entire life, and he was worried you were in danger of ripping it away from him before he was ready.

But you weren’t going anywhere. You kissed Bucky just as fiercely, months and months of desire rising up in your body and spilling free in the moans that fell unreservedly from your lips. Your hands raked through his hair, grabbed his shoulders, tugged on his cardigan—anything you could do to bring him closer, to consume him just as he was consuming you.

With a rough sound, Bucky fell against you, pinning you to the wall at your back while the arm he’d wrapped around your waist pushed you down onto his thigh between your legs. Your hips rocked against him on instinct, and it was so delicious, warm, greedy pleasure surging through your body, that you did it again. 

“Yeah, baby, take what you need, make yourself feel good,” Bucky rumbled against your jaw, where he was busy pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses that were making you feel practically feverish with desire. 

“You’re making me feel good,” you murmured heatedly, turning your face into the column of his throat and sinking your teeth unrepentantly into a spot just beneath the edge of his jaw. Bucky’s big body shuddered in your arms and you felt something like pride surge inside you.

“Careful, doll,” he teased, his voice ragged as he kissed his way back to your mouth, sucking on your lower lip hard enough to wring a soft, keening sound from your throat. “You almost sound like you like me.”

You huffed a laugh, but then a thought occurred to you and you curled your fingers into the hair at the nape of Bucky’s neck, pulling his head back so you could look him in the eye when you spoke. 

“I do like you, Bucky,” you said, and once those words were out, you couldn’t seem to stop the rest. “I’ve liked you since I met you, I just—it was my job to keep things professional.”

“I think we’re a little past professional now,” Bucky pointed out, but a grin was spreading across his face, the expression delighted and not the least bit smug. “And it’s all because you like me,” he teased, capturing your mouth in a sweeter kiss. 

You hummed an ‘mhmm’ and pulled him closer to deepen the kiss. 

That time, Bucky’s kiss was slow and precious and devastating—the beginning of something real instead of the culmination of so many months of repressed desires. 

You could feel the surety in the way Bucky held you, the way he took his time learning you, his mouth exploring yours and discovering what made you sigh and moan and whine. 

When Bucky finally pulled away again, both of you were breathing hard and your mind was fuzzy around the edges in the best way possible. You were so lost in the hazy, delicate pleasure of the moment, you almost missed Bucky’s question.

“So, what are you doing for Christmas?”

For the first time since Bucky wrapped you up in his embrace, you jerked against his hold, more out of surprise than a desire to get free. But you still had to shake your head to clear the lust from your mind and focus on what he’d asked.

“What?” was your brilliant response.

You were stalling and you knew it, but you didn’t exactly want to tell the man who’d just kissed the hell out of you that you were planning to spend your Christmas alone with some wine and a holiday-themed romance novel. Or that, maybe, if you were feeling wild, you’d bake some cookies for yourself—but that was a strong maybe.

“My family’s back home in Brooklyn, and I can’t make it back,” Bucky explained, ducking his head so he could catch your gaze, which had drifted away from him in your silent musings about your sad Christmas plans. His expression was tentative, but hopeful. “I heard from Nat that you’re on your own, too.”

A sound huffed out of you that was half sigh, half laugh. Leave it to Natasha Romanoff to make sure you didn’t spend Christmas alone even after you’d turned down her invitation to spend it with her and her sister. Your business partner and best friend could always be counted on to meddle—you were surprised you hadn’t seen this coming somehow.

“I am,” you finally confirmed, knowing there was no way to get around the fact that Bucky already knew you’d been planning to be alone on Christmas. There was some relief in it though, and you found yourself smiling as you told him, “I have some wine and I was thinking about baking some cookies…”

“That sounds perfect,” Bucky jumped in, giving you what you could only assume were his best pleading puppy dog eyes. He looked so happy and excited, even as you could tell he was trying to keep a lid on it. “I love wine and—it might surprise you—I’m pretty handy in the kitchen.”

“Handy how?” you asked, fighting the smile that wanted to spread across your face. Based on the way Bucky’s eyes were dipping down to your lips, though, you figured it was a losing battle. 

“Oh you know, I’m great at licking cookie batter off spoons and whisks, and…” Bucky trailed off, dropping his voice to a smooth whisper that sent shivers down your spine. “I can lick other things, too.” The innuendo was thick in his tone.

“Mr. Barnes!” You faked an affronted gasp and swatted his chest playfully, but you couldn’t keep up the act and burst into laughter.

When you’d gotten yourself under control and looked back at Bucky, his expression had softened. His blue eyes were sparkling with so much warm affection in his gaze, he looked like he was thinking about a day when he’d be able to teasingly call you Mrs. Barnes. 

For some reason, that idea didn’t scare you as much as you would’ve thought it might. Your feelings for Bucky must’ve run deeper than you thought. Besides, Mrs. Barnes had a nice ring to it, you decided as you leaned into Bucky’s chest, brushing a kiss to the underside of his jaw.

“Come home with me,” you murmured into his skin, breathing in the bourbon and vanilla scent of him and knowing you’d never get tired of it.  “Let’s start celebrating Christmas tonight.”

A grin spread across Bucky’s face and then he was pulling you in for another kiss, even longer and sweeter than the last one you’d shared. 

By the time you separated, the sounds of the party down the hall had dimmed and you could tell it was winding down, or moving to a bar so the office could be closed up for the holiday break.

Once you’d gotten your coats, you and Bucky slipped out the back door and he followed you home in his car. The two of you were in agreement that everyone in the office could find out about your relationship after you’d figured it out yourselves, and you planned to spend the holidays doing exactly that.

That Christmas, you spent your days laughing and talking with Bucky, getting to know him while you baked cookies and he kept himself busy hanging more mistletoe around your home, which he used at every opportunity to steal a kiss.

True to his word, Bucky was good at licking spoons and whisks and other things—to the point that you nearly burned more than a few batches of cookies. Bucky ate all of them happily, claiming he preferred his cookies to be nearly burned, which made you smile and kiss the powdered sugar off his cheek.

In the evenings, you’d curl up with Bucky on your couch, reading together or watching a movie by the light of the Christmas tree. He’d lay his head in your lap or you’d put your feet in his, or you’d lay entwined together under a cozy blanket until you fell asleep.

Between all the holiday celebrating, you’d take Bucky to bed, where you’d learn each other in more carnal ways. It turned out, the two of you were a better match than you ever could have believed, fitting together in ways that had you seeing stars and coming apart beneath him, on top of him, beside him…

By the end of Christmas, you were happy make your relationship with Bucky Barnes official. You could both see a future together, and you were excited to see what a life together would look like.

Of course, that didn’t stop you from giving Natasha a stern talking to for her meddling. Bucky admitted that she may have hinted to him about your crush, and that she’d made sure Bucky was able to catch you under the mistletoe those first three times during the office Christmas party—though the final time had been all his doing. 

He’d always planned on confessing his feelings to you, even if it wasn’t in exactly the manner he’d done it, while holding you under the mistletoe for the fourth time during the office holiday party. But he was just as glad as you were that things worked out. 

And he backed you up when you talked to Nat, who was just thrilled the two of you had gotten together. So much so that she immediately started telling Bucky about what kind of rings and jewel cuts you liked while you could only roll your eyes.

The next Christmas, at that year’s office holiday party, Bucky caught you under the mistletoe a new record of five times. The mistletoe tradition was his favorite, he reminded you. Which was, of course, why you made it easy for him to find you under the mistletoe.

Besides, you enjoyed it too. Each time Bucky caught you under the mistletoe, he wrapped you up in his arms and gave you a soft, sweet kiss on the lips. He kissed you proudly in front of the entire office, and neither of you worried about how it might look. 

After all, it seemed silly to care about your colleagues seeing you kissing Bucky Barnes at the Christmas party when you wore his ring on your finger. Everyone knew you loved him, just like they knew he loved you more than anything else in the world��even more than the mistletoe tradition.

december daze challenge masterlist

[twizzie-lairs]

My Darling, My Honey

Alastor X Fem!Reader (Part 3)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Quick Notes:

This is when both reader/you and Alastor are both alive. (... we'll probably end up in hell later on btw so stay tuned...)

Reader is an artist/painter.

Part 3:

Shutting the door to your house, you slide down to the floor, back against the door. Your hands come up to your chest, clutching the fabric of your shirt, heart racing.

Looking around the room, you felt suffocated. Every inch of the wall had some reminder of your husband, paintings, photographs, newspaper clippings of every accomplishment and accolade of his. It made you want to tear your hair out.

A silent scream leaves your throat as tears run down your face. Silent crying was something you've mastered after all these years..

But never have you cried and broken down like this, with something giving you a glimmer of hope. That something was Alastor, he made you feel appreciated, you felt free when you were with him, like all your worries were washed away and you were helplessly in love.

With the realization that you were in love, your hands fell to the ground with a quiet thud. For too long had you suffered the control, the physical and mental abuse at the hands of your husband and your family that only saw you as a pawn- a means to an end for them.

The tears dried up as you sat there silently for hours till the sun rose, feeling like an empty husk of a human. It took you a long time before you could collect yourself.

Though you felt so weak, you had to go out and do some errands. Having to keep up the image of perfect housewife, after all.

With a vacant and empty look in your eyes, you left the house, barely presentable.

You didn't even know what you were going out for, but you'd find something, anything.

During your walk around town, looking for something to buy so you wouldn't go home empty-handed, an odd feeling and urge came over you to take a route home that you've never taken before.

The way you took this time was full of twists and turns, leading to many shady backstreets and alleyways.

One sign reading "Arabella's Apothecary" caught your eye, prompting you to enter.

The door opens with a chime, the shopkeeper giving you a smug smile, "Welcome in dear, how can I help ya this fine morn'?" You nervously tell her that you were just looking around.

The shopkeeper, who you found out was indeed Arabella, like the sign outside indicated, "You know, people don't just come in here for nothin'... Hun, I think we both know you're looking for a key to freedom."

Arabella's words shook you to your core, "A... key? T-to freedom?" You laugh nervously, wondering if this woman was a witch. But then it came to you, maybe you did need... something.

She laughed at your face, "Bwahaha, I can read you like an open book! I'm no witch, I just deal in... specialty medicines, you might say."

After a short conversation with Arabella, you find yourself in possession of some arsenic. This little powder was your freedom, and you thank your lucky stars that fate guided to this back alley hidden apothecary shop.

During the week of your husband's absence, you didn't visit Mimzy's bar at all, actually. You were planning your husband's demise. You had to be methodical, careful, every single minute detail needed to have a plan and a backup plan- including your escape and how you would remove yourself from suspicion of being involved in your husband's death.

When your husband opened the door, announcing his return, you felt a pit form in your stomach. The bile rose in the back of your throat at the thought of freedom being so close and yet so far.

According to your plan, your husband would be dead in the next couple of weeks. It would be hell to not visit Mimzy's bar in hopes of seeing Alastor again, but if everything went according to plan, you'd be free of your shackles. So two weeks, give or take a few days, was nothing compared to the near decade of pain you've had to endure.

There were a few close calls during this time, but your husband was just diagnosed with food poisoning each time until he was found dead at his desk at the office he worked at.

You had slowly poisoned him slowly and consistently enough to evade suspicion. You knew this much when the police came knocking on your door informing you that your husband was found dead. The gates holding back the flood were unlocked, and you crumpled to the floor crying. The police tried to console you, but little did they know that you secretly crying from being overjoyed at the news.

At the funeral, your family and in-laws looked at you with distaste and all they did was tell you to get out of their faces, telling you what a disappointment you were for failing as a wife to keep your husband happy and healthy.

That was all you needed to hear. You turned away from them and left town, not bothering to stop by your home. You left only with the clothes on your body, making your way to Mimzy's bar. If anyone was able to help you, it would be Mimzy, your only true friend in the world.

You get to Mimzy's bar a bit too early, sometime in the evening, as usually the bar only opens late at night. So Mimzy was prepared to ward off any suspicious people that could get the bar/speakeasy in trouble, but she rushed up to you immediately, fawning over you, seeing you in all-black funeral attire with puffy eyes, " (Y/N)! Darlin'!! What happened to you??"

Mimzy ushers you into her office, gives you a warm cup of tea and a blanket as she barrages you with more questions. You smile weakly at her and make her promise not to tell a soul, and she pinky promised that she would take your secrets to the grave. And she kindly offered for you to stay with her as long as you needed.

You took Mimzy up on her offer, but you offered to help out at the bar for as long as you did. It was the only way you would accept her generosity.

-> Part 4

[meanbossart]

ASK COMPILATION #385032: Shape-shifting genitals, mouth-mashing skillsets, who taps out first in the bedroom and the 17 different types of meat this guy eats.

I TRIED TO MAKE THIS A BIG ONE. Thank you everybody for your patience!

The truth of the matter is that I need one dramatic light-source or I will perish. HOWEVER...

Yeah, they seem the type to leave it purposefully ajar for the thrill of it. As well as the excuse to bring hell down upon anyone caught trying to steal a peek.

YES, actually! I've had the concept for a comic or two that's precisely about interactions they've had while younger. Comics take a lot of work, and there's a LOT of things I want to do, but that is definitely in the plans.

Yes! Or rather, as a shapeshifter, I believe she doesn't bother with them 99% of the time, possibly never, even though she has the habitability to form them if she so wished. The Orin DU drow knew was always doll-like in appearance when nude, and he did not particularly mind it or fantasized about anything different.

I believe this is both a preference in Orin's part (and across many shapeshifters, if I recall correctly) as well as a strategic choice.

And thank you so much!

[MORE BELOW THE CUT]

I don't know, kissing isn't that hard LOL I think they're pretty even-leveled in technique but Astarion is the tonguier one.

ALL IN DUE TIME, MY FRIEND, ALL IN DUE TIME...

Maybe 😊 🤫though I'm not sure how useful his powers would be in that context.

That said, Indeed! The irony of this match isn't lost on anyone. I'm sure Astarion would have some thoughts about the convenience of it.

I know this is more of a jokey message, but I don't think Astarion would be cool with that sort of thing, and DU drow most definitely wouldn't ask 😂

Whatever works, as he would probably say!

Astarion got drunk through DU drow on occasion while he still fed on him, yes LOL I don't care if that makes sense or not, It's a hysterical concept and definitely factual in my canon. To be fair as well, DU drow is a huge man and has to drink a LOT to get properly wasted - so Astarion wouldn't have to consume a whole lot from him to get on a similar level!

Post a few particular post-campaign events, Astarion gets drunk through strangers' blood that were either piss-drunk already or have been fed alcohol forcibly by the pair.

He likes thick stews, braised pork, and meat-pies the most. Don't ask me when or why I've decided this but he likes octupi as a every-once-in-a-while treat - I think he mostly enjoys the experience of eating it more than the taste.

For drinks, he likes beer, red semi-dry wine, and mead the most. He also likes a GOOD whisky - none of the copper-coin garbage they serve at most Inns.

Hi! Incredible question. DU drow can go indefinitely but when he stops he knocks out in record speed. There usually comes a point where Astarion flops over and lets him do all the work.

You know how, shortly after you find out about it, if you tell Astarion that you're frightened of your origins you get that really heartfelt bit of dialogue about how yourself and him are so much alike, and how he feels similarly powerless before Cazador as you do toward your father? Well, I never got that, because DU drow was too busy squinting into the horizon and contemplating the logistics of his conception which prompts Astarion to, essentially, say something along the lines of "Okay, if all you want to do is discuss your dad's cum I'm out"

So, like that.

They didn't smash in the graveyard! I'm hoping to either write a short thing about it, draw something inspired by how the scene went down in my head, or, ideally, both!

That IS kind of a wild comparison but I'm guessing you know about my origins, LOL.

Not... Quite. I'm reluctant to say more because I would like for it to be a surprise that I bring you all through art (even if you can make a pretty accurate deduction based on what has been said so far) but suffice to say that this is the flipside to the Bhaalist DU drow AU.

I don't think I could find the time 😭😭😭 but that's a hysterical idea and I would gladly mash together a bunch of clips if someone else was willing to highlight them!

Hello and thank YOU for humoring me in my nerdy little forays!

I hadn't heard about Model/Actriz but I had a little sneak-peek and, indeed, this might just be right up my alley LOL

It's hard for me to remove these characters from their intended universe so I have a difficult time picturing what they would listen to if the options didn't all sound like string-y bardcore music. I'm sure there are more genres to speak of in DnD lore, I'm just ignorant of them!

That said I do have some thoughts about which of them even enjoy music at all.

REALLY enjoys music: DU drow, Jaheira, Misc, Karlach, Wyll.

Modestly enjoys music: Gale, Shadowheart, Minthara, Halsin.

Generally doesn't enjoy music: Astarion, Lae'zel.

No notes just canonical character information being shared

I forgot what this one was in reference to for a moment and I was so aghast.

I really, really hope you weren't hoping for me to give you work-out advice because both, if you were, you've come to the wrong man.

But if you're just wondering about lore here, I think it's a solid 50/50. I think he's predisposed to a really well-built physique because Daddy Bhaal said so AND he's incredibly active and incidentally does a lot of manual labor. If he's had a few too many sedentary days in a row (which is rare) he pretty much has to tire himself through at-home routines or he goes a little cuckoo-bananas as well.

And thank you for being interested in my little freak!

He's pretty thoroughly desensitized, and thinks far too little of Orcs and half-orcs to be intimidated by them, even when that lack of fear is downright stupid. He's not impervious to fear, however, despite how hard he tries to be - Myrkhul, Grym, the giant Steelwatch, the brain, and even Cazador AFTER he snatched Astarion away were all encounters that made his blood run cold to varying degrees. I think it takes an unfamiliar foe for his sweat to run a little cold.

(Ironically, Raphael had no such effect on him.)

[the-kr8tor]

Hii I have short drabble prompt how about the reader makes plushies of them and Hobie similar people making hello Kitty of themselves and partner hope having good day/night

Hi, lovely! I hope this is what you meant! Thank you for requesting ❤️❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Word count: 1.6k

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, subtle talk of marriage, lovestruck! Hobie, fluff

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

The ribbon in your hands is soft and silky to the touch. Your music blares in your ears as you wrap his anniversary present, you still can't believe that you and Hobie have been going strong for a year now. A year full of love and annoying each other with teasing remarks. You smile at the fond memories flitting through your mind like a film roll showing you all the best bits.

Finally tying the ribbon to perfection, you stare proudly at how well you packaged his gift. The box is covered in checkered wrapping paper with the ribbon in the same ruby hue. Now that you're staring at it, the present looks more like a Christmas gift than an anniversary present.

Your pride takes a hit, shoulders slumping down at the thought. “Shit.” Now you gotta start all over again, preferably with new wrapping paper. Maybe something that has hearts on it will be better? Or something that matches with the gift you've painstakingly worked hard on for weeks will fit better? Or will that be too on the nose?

Thinking very hard on a very hard decision, you don't hear the sound of keys outside your flat, and the unmistakable jiggle of the doorknob as it opens with a squeak.

“You need some oil on this, lovie—” he stops in his tracks when you don't immediately greet him with a hug or a loud ‘Hobie!’ the second he enters. He finds it…weird to not be cuddled right away. You've spoilt him.

Hobie tilts his head to the side, peeking through the open kitchen only to not find you whistling a tune while making something sweet. Pocketing the spare key you gave him so that he stops popping up from your fire escape, he crosses the modest flat in hopes of finding you. Lest his surprise goes to waste, or worse, eaten by London pigeons.

Knocking on the bedroom door, he calls your name sweetly with a sing-song lilt. Of course he didn't forget what day it is today. How could he when it's been marked on his calendar since the day you said yes to him being your boyfriend? He has been counting down the days, annoyingly so to the gang at spider society, who are probably waiting for the news on how the day went.

“Love?” He peeks inside when you don't answer, he knows you're in there when he can hear the blaring music from where he's standing. A grin spreads across his pierced lips, seeing how your hips are gently swaying to the music, arms crossed in front of you like you're in deep contemplation.

Sneaking in, it doesn't take much for him to go unnoticeable by you when your music is ear burstingly loud. He looks over your shoulder to look at what's got your pants in a twist, his eyes widens when he sees the finely wrapped gift, grin getting bigger at how excited he is to open it.

But before he could surprise you, hoping that he'll hear you screech so loud that the neighbours would complain about the noise, you're unfurling the ribbon already with a gentle tug.

“Wait— oi!” He immediately wraps his arms around your middle, effectively stopping you from opening his present. Your shocked scream pierces his eardrums more than your music.

“Holy— Hobie?!”

“That's right, lovie.” He smirks at your shocked expression. When you tilt your head to look at him, he presses a surprise kiss on the tip of your nose, effectively flustering you in his arms.

You swear your legs would've given out if not for his arms around you. “What— you're early!”

“Y’know what they say, early bird gets the present.” He chuckles at your forced laugh. “‘sides, I think ‘m late because you're already openin’ my present.”

“How presumptuous,” you lean against his warm chest, mirroring his grin. “Maybe this isn't yours.”

“You sure that's not my name on the card?”

“I'm pretty sure it's not your name.” You tamp down a chuckle.

“Who’s it for then?” He raises a brow, a teasing smirk on his lips. “Ned?”

“Close, it's for James.”

“That bloody wanker doesn't even know your last name!” He squeezes you tighter, lifting you up from your feet, and face nuzzling the crook of your neck, effectively tickling you.

“And you do?!” You say in between laughter, riling him up further.

He stops for reprieve and air, still squeezing you in his arms. “Fuck yeah I do!”

“What is it then, Mr. Brown?” You raise your chin at him like you're challenging him.

“You just said it, love.” Your cheeks feel like it's on fire, smile faltering for a second before it's replaced with a lopsided grin. “Or it'll be in a few years I bet.”

You bite your lip to tamp down any giddy laughter from escaping. “Care to bet good money on it?”

“Nah, it'll be cheatin’ because I already know I'll win.” He winks at you all suave like, and pressing another chaste yet affectionate kiss on your searing cheek. Letting you go, and fixing your balance once his arms aren't around you anymore, he walks towards his gift. “What's this then?”

“It wouldn't make sense if I told you now, Hobie.” You sigh out, completely lovestruck with him that your legs refuse to stand up as you plummet down on the bed with a squeak.

Hobie picks the box up gingerly, “why were you openin’ it?”

You shrug on the mattress. “I thought it looked too Christmas-ssy. I was about to change the wrapping until you shocked me into a near heart attack.”

“‘cus of all the red?” He's trying incredibly hard not to rip the wrapping open to see his present. He sits down next to you with your gift gingerly placed on his lap.

“Mm-hmm,” you lay on your side, cheek squished on the bed. “You can open it, you know.”

“Thank fuck, I was holdin’ back.”

He's much more gentle at opening the gift even though he's itching to see what's inside. In the end the wrapping is still intact and the ribbon is wrapped around his head like a bandana, courtesy of a playful you.

“Fuckin' hell, is that me?” He looks at the inside of the box then to you, “and…You!” His childish giggling echoes around your room. You smile as he lifts both plushies up from its cardboard confinement. “Did you make these?” Hobie holds them up side by side.

His plushie is as soft and cuddly as the real one, complete with his regular spiky and leather fit. His eyes are buttons that are in the same shade as his hazel ones, you've even captured his signature smirk through the stitching. Yours is just as accurate as the real one, you're wearing your favourite outfit, the one you wore on your first real date with him. But with the added touch of his spiked bracelet that he gave you on your third date with him. All made by you from scratch.

A sudden shyness envelopes you like a blanket. Hands clammy and chest heavy. “Do you like them?”

“Love,” he makes a face, wordlessly saying 'really?’ with his handsome face. “I fuckin' love it!” Pouncing on you, he embraces you as he lays atop you. Calloused hands cradling your cheeks whilst he peppers your face with warm and affectionate kisses. “You're a bloody wizard, how the fuck did you make these so perfectly?” He says as he lifts himself above you, beaming down at you with endearment.

“I had to stare at your picture for hours on end.” You act like it was a tedious task. You loved making the plushies with all of your heart.

“A win win then?” Tilting his head, he can't help but smile even more that his cheeks are starting to hurt.

“Absolutely.” You say with a chuckle, “I also started on a Spider-Man suit for plushie you, but I haven't finished it yet.”

“You goddamn angel.” He coos, “don't finish it yet, let me help you, yeah?” You nod as he leans closer to etch his lips upon yours. But he stops halfway, paused as he stares at your blissful face while your eyes are closed and lips pursed in waiting. “First…” you crack one eye open, lips still puckered together. He squeezes your lips together playfully with his index and thumb before letting go as you fake a pout. “You need to see your present.”

Hobie lifts himself off you in one swift motion. “What is it?”

“That beats the purpose of a surprise, innit?” In one fell swoop, he pulls you off the bed, standing you back up. “C’mon then.”

“Wait, hold on!” He's already walking out towards the fire escape. Picking up the plushies, you connect their hands together. The magnet you've stitched inside pulls the soft hands together like they're holding hands. “Ta da! I almost forgot I did that.”

Hobie looks at you in awe. “You never fail to surprise me, lovie.” He says it so sweetly that you almost melted into a puddle right there and then. “Bring them with.”

You take a step forward, arms full of the mini Hobie and you. “Wait, we're swinging to get there?”

He shrugs with the familiar mischievous glint in his eyes. “There's traffic.”

Meeting with him, he immediately pulls you towards him with a strong sturdy arm. “You better not fake drop me, Hobie.” You say as he gestures for you to wrap your legs around his hips.

Standing up, he climbs over the balcony, feet precariously perched on the thin metal. “That was one time, love.” With one hand, he holds you in place, the other is raised and aiming towards the nearest building.

“One time too many—!” He jumps off and you feel your stomach leave your body. His cackling can be heard above the rushing wind kissing your cheeks.

[therealcocoshady]

Kinktober - Day 13 - Daddy

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

A/N : hey guys ! Here is the 2nd prompt for Kinktober Day 13. This time it’s « Daddy ». I only recently got done with it without realizing I would be posting it on the day of his birthday 🙊. I could have made something birthday related but… oh well. Another time, maybe 🙈. I hope you enjoy it. I made it cute & fluffy.

CW : Daddy kink - Pregnancy announcement - Fluff

Marshall Mathers doesn’t have a daddy kink. In fact, it’s kind of the opposite. Maybe it’s a parent thing, but as far as he’s concerned, there are only three persons in the world allowed to call him Daddy : his children. Any woman he is dating g trying to call him that immediately gives him the ick. You sort of learned it the hard way. Being younger than him, you playfully and somewhat threw in the nickname on one occasion when he was being directive. It wasn’t even in bed and, in hindsight, thank God it wasn’t because it would have been that much more awkward. It was one night, you were in his kitchen, making dinner, telling him about your day while you were slicing and dicing some vegetable for the meal you were cooking. « Careful with the knife, babe. Look at what you’re doing or you’re going to cut yourself.  » he gently warned, ever so caring. « Ok Daddy » you chuckled with a grin.

His mood immediately changed and the soft smile on his face was quickly replaced by a frown and an air of disgust. « What did you call me ? » he asked. « Daddy » you repeated « come on, it’s not that deep » you don’t added with a shrug. « Just… don’t » he said. You stopped what you were doing and put the knife aside. « You don’t like it ? » you asked with a raised eyebrow. To you, it wasn’t a big deal. You didn’t have a daddy kink but you were guilty of calling some of your exes « Daddy » in bed. No daddy issues on your part, just some appreciation for someone who could be a little authoritarian in bed. So, to you, playfully using the nickname didn’t sound like anything weird at all. Him, on the other hand, seemed to find it creepy. « Like it ? It’s fucking weird » he scoffed. « you really want to call me Daddy ?! ».

He genuinely seemed disturbed by the thought. Horrified, almost. You giggled and cupped his face. « It was just for fun. Chill, babe. » you said softly. « No but while thinks about their dad when they’re with their man ? » he continued. You couldn’t help but laugh and shook your head. « First of all… I like it when you refer to yourself as my man » you said seductively. « And second of all… it’s not about actual fathers. It’s a vibe, you know ? » you tentatively explained. He hummed but still didn’t seem convinced. « Yeah, well, feel free to come up with any other nickname but… not this one. The only people who are allowed to call me that are my daughters. » he said as he rolled his eyes. You chuckled and agreed before giving him a peck on the cheek.

In the following years, you didn’t fall short when it came to finding cute names to refer to him, some of them being more ridiculous than others. Most of the time, you used classics such as « my love » or « babe » but, every so often, you spiced things up with something ridiculous like « sunshine » or « honeybun ». He often laughed at your antics and, honestly, he didn’t mind the cheesy pet names. If anything, he thought it was kind of funny and cute. As long as you steered clear of « Daddy », he could put up with anything. On the days where you wanted to use a nickname that highlighted his authoritative nature, you tried to find options such as « Boss » or « Top Dog », which never failed to make him chortle.

However, one evening, you just had to go back to using « Daddy ».

You went to find him in his home office, where he was reviewing some visuals for his upcoming album. As the drop date was approaching, he was putting in more and more hours. When you entered the room, you found him with his head in his hands, clearly exhausted. You stood behind him and placed a kiss on his cheek, prompting him to look up. He gave you an exhausted smile, one that showed your intrusion was most welcome. You knew that, as much as he loved the writing/producing/recording part of making an album, the rest sometimes felt like a pain in his ass. And these days, it seemed like it was all about photoshoots, picking visuals, anticipating promo. All the things he didn’t really care for, really.

« So… What’s up, Daddy ? » you asked softly and innocently.

He turned to you and you immediately saw him cringe. You could see the instinctive reaction, as if he had just eaten something sour. His eyebrows shot up, arching sharply in disbelief, while his eyes went wide with a mix of shock and confusion. A slight twitch pulled at the corner of his left eye, as if his brain was desperately trying to process and reject what he'd just heard. His lips pressed together into a thin, tight line, then curled downward in the most uncomfortable grimace imaginable. His jaw clenched visibly, and his nostrils flared as if he was physically trying to hold back whatever retort was forming in his head. For a moment, he looked utterly frozen in place, caught between laughter and utter discomfort, before he finally broke the silence with a sharp shake of his head. “Nah, nah, nah,” he muttered, his voice a mix of strained disbelief and unease, his whole face still scrunched up like he was trying to physically repel the word. The look in his eyes was pleading, practically begging you not to ever do that again.

You couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh. It had been at least a couple of years since the « Daddy » incident but his reaction said it all, he still found it insanely cringy. Too bad, though, because he’d had to get used to it. Marshall’s face shifted from that initial cringe into something more serious, his eyes narrowing as he shook his head, setting his laptop aside with an exaggerated sigh. He turned to you, his lips pressing together tightly, clearly trying to rein in his frustration, but there was no hiding the exasperation in his voice.

« Babe, we’ve been over this already, » he said, gesturing with his hands like he was trying to lay out something obvious. « I told you, no calling me ‘Daddy.’ That’s for my kids. I can’t- »He paused, searching for the right words, but all that came out was a mix of disbelief and irritation. « I don’t even know how to explain it, but it just feels… wrong, alright? ». His tone was firm, but not angry—more like someone who’d had this conversation one too many times and couldn’t believe they were having it again. « You think it’s funny, but no. It’s weird. We’re not doing that, » he added, his brows furrowing in a way that made it clear he was serious. He looked at you, waiting for some sign that you got the message this time, his expression softening just a little as he ran a hand through his hair. « Just… stop, » he finished with a sigh, giving you a look that said he hoped this would be the last time he had to talk about it. Twice was enough already.

« I don’t think I can stop » you said with a grin, waiting for him to connect the dots. « In fact… I think you’re going to get used to it… Daddy» you continued as you placed a hand where, soon enough, a bump would be visible. At first, your man didn’t seem to fully register it. He sat there, still caught in the loop of his usual reaction to your teasing, eyes narrowing in confusion.

But then, slowly, the meaning of your words and the gesture sank in. His expression shifted, eyebrows furrowing as his head tilted slightly, like he was trying to replay your sentence in his mind to make sure he’d heard it right. « Wait... what? » His voice was softer now, disbelief lacing every word. His eyes searched your face for any sign that you were still joking, but instead, he saw the familiar glow in your eyes and the warm, expectant smile that told him this was different. His whole body seemed to freeze for a beat, and then his face changed entirely. His eyes widened first, and his mouth dropped open just a little, like he had to catch his breath. His brow furrowed, but not in confusion anymore—it was the weight of emotion hitting him, the realization dawning in full. « You’re... for real? ». His voice cracked slightly, like he didn’t trust himself to fully believe it yet, but his eyes were already glistening with the first hint of something deeper.

When you nodded, his lips parted into a stunned smile, a slow, almost incredulous laugh bubbling up from his chest. He looked down at your stomach, then back at your face, a hand running over his head as if trying to make sense of the moment. « You… you’re pregnant? ». The words came out softer this time, almost in awe, his eyes never leaving yours. After months of hoping for a positive test that never seemed to come, this was it, finally.

There was a long pause, where all he could do was stare at you, a mixture of joy and disbelief playing across his face, before a laugh finally broke free, a genuine, almost disbelieving laugh, as if he couldn’t wrap his head around it. « I’m gonna be a dad again? ». His voice was filled with wonder now, his hand reaching out to touch your stomach gently, like the reality of it was finally hitting him in waves. His whole face softened, his eyes shining with that rare, unguarded emotion he kept hidden from most. He pulled you into a tight embrace, pulling you to his lap and burying his face in your neck for a moment as he let the weight of it all sink in. « Finally, » he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. He pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes again, a wide, almost boyish grin breaking across his face. « We’re having a baby. ». You nodded with an emotional smile and wrapped your arms around his neck before kissing him.

As the reality of the moment settled in and the initial wave of emotion began to subside, you couldn’t help but tease him, that familiar playful glint dancing in your eyes. You leaned back slightly, still smiling as you ran a hand over your belly, letting your words hang in the air for just a second before speaking. « So, hum, does this mean I finally get a pass to call you ‘Daddy’ now? » you asked, raising an eyebrow with a sly grin, clearly enjoying how the tables had turned on the long-running joke.

Marshall’s reaction was instant. His face immediately scrunched up, that familiar look of playful disgust returning for a moment. He groaned, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe you were still going there, especially now. « Oh, come on, » he muttered, though there was a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He looked at you with mock exasperation, but he couldn’t deny that this time, it felt different. He let out a deep breath, his hand running over his face as if to brace himself. « Alright, alright… » he started, but then his expression became more serious, his eyes locking with yours. « Only when you’re talking to the baby, though, » he added, pointing at you with emphasis. « Like, when you’re telling her something about me, sure, you can say ‘Daddy.’ But otherwise, no. That’s still fucking weird. ». He laughed, shaking his head again, and gently placed his hand over your stomach, the playful moment shifting into something more meaningful. « But yeah, » he added quietly, a softer smile forming. « You can say it… for them. »

His gaze lingered on your belly for a moment longer, the weight of what that word meant now sinking in fully. « I guess I’m gonna have to get used to it, huh? » he said, looking back up at you with that familiar mix of humor and tenderness in his eyes.

[cherriegyuu]

midnight rain | lsm

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

Letter #1

Seokmin,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

yn 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe it was trauma.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Deal"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I just…"

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

Letter #2

Seokmin,

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

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

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

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

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

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

yn.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He turned around and left as if nothing had happened.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I passed my master’s degree abroad”

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

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

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

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

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

He had no idea.

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

"What? You’re leaving today?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Letter #3

Seokmin,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were sneaky, Seokmin.

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

yn.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s really you!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What do you recommend?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What it was?" you rolled your eyes.

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

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

"Do what?"

"Runaway"

Letter #4

Seokmin, 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

yn.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hello, can you hear me?” he asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Your question?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Letter #5

Seokmin

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

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

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

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

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

I'm going crazy, aren't I?

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

What am I still doing?

yn

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You never quite managed to do that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You always wanted to have a radio show”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To hell with his plan.

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

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

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

“Seokmin, I…”

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

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

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

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

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

He smiled over your skin. 

“At least this hasn’t changed”

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

“Where’s your room?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Seokmin... harder"

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

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

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

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

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

Letter #6

Seokmin,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

yn

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Carefully you put everything back inside and put it aside.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You frowned, pretending you didn't understand.

“Your nose is beautiful”

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

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

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

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

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

Seokmin would have proposed if you hadn't left.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Let me give you a ride”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know, I read your letters”

Seokmin,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I love you.

yn

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[runnning-outof-time]

Congratulations, I adore your story!!

Could you please do 23 with angst and then fluff? Thank you so much I appreciate it!💕

Thanks so much for sending this in, anon! I’m so happy you like my stories! I decided to go with Tommy for the character and chose “I don’t want to go.” for the prompt because it was the 5 word #23. I hope you don’t mind that. Enjoy! :)

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! - YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

Part of my 3.5k Celebration — find more stories here!

To Keep You Safe

Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warnings: season 4 spoilers (like right from the jump), language

Word Count: 1042

Summary: (Y/N) and Tommy discuss the decision to have her go into hiding while the war with the Changrettas rages on.

Things were heating up in the vendetta between the Shelbys and the Changrettas. What both sides thought would be a quick battle had now turned into a full-on war. And after Luca managed to get to Michael in his hospital bed and try to get him to switch sides, Tommy was convinced that no one was safe.

He called a family meeting. He arranged it in the morning and it was set for that evening. The air in the room was so thick with tension that you could practically cut it with a knife. (Y/N) noted that they were currently in the midst of a thunderstorm, which she had a feeling was foreshadowing for what was to be talked about.

And oh boy was she right. Things were quiet between her and Tommy that night. Neither of the two spoke a word to the other before they both went to sleep.

(Y/N) didn’t really sleep much though. No matter how many times she wished it wouldn’t, tomorrow still came.

Soon enough, there was a man in a car sitting outside their Watery Lane home.

“I don’t want to go,” (Y/N) huffed as she crossed her arms. She was aware of how much she sounded like their three year old daughter, but she quite frankly didn’t care.

“You have to, love,” Tommy insisted, not wanting this to turn into something bigger than it had to be.

“Why?” she asked, her one eyebrow quirking upward.

“Don’t fucking start…” he trailed off with a sigh.

“You owe me a reason, Thomas. I’m not just going to be shipped off into the fucking wilderness for no fucking reason,” she harped on, sharing her feelings about the decision that had been made — essentially without her consent — the night prior.

“You know why,” he told her, insisting it was common sense.

“Enlighten me anyway,” she shrugged.

“(Y/N).”

“Tommy.”

“It’s to keep you safe!” he finally came out with it, his voice raising as his eyes went wide, showing the frustration and stress he was currently under. “It’s to keep you fucking safe.”

(Y/N) was taken back by his outburst, but she really should have expected it. She was poking a bear; a powder keg that was bound to explode sooner or later. “You’re keeping me safe here, though. And besides, it was agreed between the both of you: no civilians. No women or children,” she pointed out in a softer voice, recalling the rules of the vendetta that he’d told her a few weeks prior.

“Yeah, I know that was agreed upon,” Tommy started, nodding as a sigh escaped his lips, “but with how things are going…we need to expect everything. And I can’t have you get taken by him or his men as a way to get me. So I need you to go. Just for a little while.”

Silence fell between them as she took a minute to think things over. The last thing she wanted to do was leave Tommy’s side while all of this was going on.

“I don’t want to leave you, Tommy,” was the next thing she said. She couldn’t get through the sentence without choking up, tears brimming up in her eyelids.

Tommy exhaled a breath before he closed the short distance between them, taking her into his arms just as her body began to shake from her sobs. “It’ll just be a little while, love,” he spoke in a soft voice, his chin rested on the top of her head as he rubbed her back in a comforting manner.

They stood like that for a few minutes. (Y/N) had no shame in crying into her husband’s suit coat. She didn’t want to let him go and leave because she was afraid that this would be the last time she’d see him.

“Hey, the car’s waiting outside,” Tommy was the one to speak first. He loosened his hold on her as he did, moving his hands to her shoulders so that he could bring her out at arms length.

“I know,” (Y/N) nodded, sniffling as she wiped her tears away. “I’ll miss you, Tommy,” she added then, looking at him with watery eyes.

“I’ll miss you too, love,” he responded without a second thought, raising one hand to run it down her cheek.

“Make sure you go visit the kids for me…or at least send Pol or someone if you think it’s too risky,” she added, thinking of her children who were currently residing at her parents’ home.

“I will,” he assured her with a nod.

(Y/N) took a moment to look at her husband then, making sure she could commit every part of him to memory. She didn’t know when she’d see him next. Her bottom lip began to quiver as that thought stuck in her mind.

“It’s just a little while,” Tommy repeated what he’d said to her before.

“I know,” she nodded, holding back the tears. “I love you.”

“I love you,” he repeated the phrase, leaning in and pressing his lips to hers. (Y/N) held him there, making their embrace as long as it could possibly be. But eventually she had to pull away, and as she did, she finally decided it was time. “I should go.”

“I’ll come get you when this is finished,” he promised her, their eyes locked as he spoke.

“Just stay alive,” she said to him, sending one last smile her way before they finally broke their embrace so that she could grab her things.

Tommy ushered her outside and made sure she got into the vehicle. He then gave the driver and his accomplice strict instructions on what to do. After sending one last smile to (Y/N), he let them go and headed back inside.

He took two steps away from the door and placed his hands onto the side table sitting there so that he could brace himself as he leaned back against it. He tipped his head back and closed his eyes for a moment, his family flashing in his mind. Then he released the breath he’d been holding and stared straight ahead. This vendetta would be finished soon, and he’d make damn sure of it.

**tags are in a reblog, so that hopefully the notification gets sent

MASTERLIST

[remedyturtles]

16 with pb and j :D

thank you my beloved @bluesgras for the prompt!!! big hugs mate hope you like it :D

wordcount 1.1k, pre-series

16. "You were calling out, in your sleep. You said my name."

The scream cut off as soon as Mikey realized it was coming from his own throat, choking on the sound, hands pushing back against the touch that was shaking him awake. Immediately the touch disengaged, and it was Donnie's voice that said, "You are safe, Angelo. You are having a nightmare."

That made a lot more sense. Pulling ragged breaths through a sore throat, Mikey blinked the stars out of his eyes and hunched over. After a moment, Donnie shuffled and turned the lamp on. The light helped the pulsing terror that sat heavy on his chest. It brought the silhouette of his big brother into the light, the frayed long-sleeve sleep shirt that said 'I identify as a problem' and bare feet against the carpet. No goggles or even mask, looking like he'd just woken up moments ago. 

"I'm sorry." Mikey rasped, swallowing hard. The panic was living inside him, making it hard to think, but he knew that Donnie didn't like to be disturbed. "Did I wake you up?"

Donnie hesitated. Pulling at the end of his sleeve, thumbing the holes there. He said, "You were calling out, in your sleep." 

Mikey winced. "Sorry. Thanks for waking me up. You can go back to bed now."

Donnie didn't. He stood there, then said, "You said my name."

Oh. Mikey's stomach dropped hard and fast as he remembered his dream, and he bit his lip. All the denials fell short before forming, because… he was really glad that Donnie was here right now, actually. 

Donnie gestured awkwardly to the bed. "Do you want me to join you?"

"You don't have to." Mikey said immediately. 

"If I didn't want to, then I wouldn't offer." Donnie said, promptly. 

That was true. Mikey shuffled over to give him room, tugging the blankets along to keep them separate. Except that Donnie ignored that, reaching over to flap the rumpled blankets over both of their legs. Then he perfectly arranged the pillows to sit up, turning to look at Mikey in the lamp-light. He said, "I don't like the thought that something about me would upset you that much. Tell me what the issue is, and I will fix it."

Mikey gave him a laugh, a little wet, and swiped at his eyes. "You don't upset me, D. Don't worry about it."

Donnie fixed him with a look that would work a lot better with his painted-on brows, but luckily Mikey knew him well enough to fill in the arched incredulity even without them. "Michelangelo, you are my only little brother. I reserve exclusive right to worry about you every minute of the day if I so please. And especially if you are roused in the middle of night with screaming nightmares."

Mikey sniffed miserably, giving his eyes another futile swipe. He wasn't crying so much as all stuffed up and uncomfortable, like he was bloated with unwelcome emotions. "Just because someone's younger doesn't mean they can't worry about their older siblings."

Donnie leaned forward so he was in Mikey's line of sight, and gave a crooked smile. "Heavens, don't you dare be worried about me."

"I can if I want." Mikey insisted, jutting up his chin, but then hesitating. "That wasn't… that wasn't why, though."

"Oh?" Donnie stayed persistently in his line of sight, even ducking his head to keep his gaze when Mikey tipped it downwards. "Do tell."

Mikey struggled with keeping it inside, mouth wobbling, but he'd never been good at holding back. Not when there was always so many sets of hands were right there, waiting to give him whatever he wanted. Safety and security and –

"It was dark." Mikey began, because he hated the dark. Everyone knew that. "And – and I couldn't find my way home. There were monsters and – and they were chasing me – and I … I wanted you to come save me."

Donnie eyes went wide, jaw going slack, and he said, surprised, "Me?"

Mikey nodded, tears welling and irritably swiping at his cheeks again to stop them from falling. He sniffed and said, "I was scared. And I wanted you. And then I woke up and you're here, so I feel better."

"Me?" Donnie said again, weaker. "Not Raph? Not Leo? Not Dad? Me?"

"You're my big brother too." Mikey said, soft. "You just said that."

"Yeah, but there's no way I'm better than –" Donnie cut himself off and shook his head. "Of course I'm an amazing big brother, but for like – fixing your things and reading stories and hiding with you when everyone else is being stupid. Not the one you want when the monster is chasing you."

Mikey headbutted him, somewhere between playful and hard enough to hurt. "Except you are. Are you saying you wouldn't help me if a monster was chasing me?"

"Of course I would." Donnie rubbed his forehead, frowning. "I would absolutely anything I could to protect you. But I am not the most optimal choice for this situation."

Mikey shrugged. "I don't know. My subconscious wanted you."

Donnie bit his lip, looking a little emotional himself. He opened his arms, and Mikey crawled into them without any hesitation. All tight limbs around his big brother, who made him feel so safe, so secure, so loved. 

His grip was strong, and Donnie pressed their heads together. He mumbled in Mikey's ear, "I suppose subconscious knows that you are my precious baby brother and if you call for me, I will come. And I will do everything I can, even if I need to destroy everyone and everything to keep you safe."

"Leo said you're not allowed to do villain monologues past midnight anymore." Mikey said, muffled by Donnie's shirt. 

Donnie's laugh was just a little evil. "Oh, darling Michelangelo. Your faith in me will never be mislaid. I would burn cities and salt the earth for you. I would tear apart the laws of the universe and rewrite new ones at your bidding. I would – stop laughing!"

Mikey couldn't help it, giggling helplessly, clutching the fabric and pressing close for the comfort it provided. His heart swelled with care, that incredibly special kind of care that only Donnie could provide. He said, the tears nearly gone from his voice, all his fears wiped away like chalk off a blackboard, "I love you so so much."

"Mmmm." Donnie hummed against the top of his head, rocking them back and forth slightly, like he was cradling Mikey. It lit something young and safe inside him. "I love you for every single star in the universe."

"How many is that?" Mikey whispered.

"At least two hundred billion-trillion." Donnie replied, instant and smug. 

"Well I love you three hundred billion-trillion." Mikey said.

Donnie gasped, mock-affronted. "Gasp! How could I be so foolish!"

Mikey giggled again, boneless against his big brother, the gentle rock back and forth, the warm blankets, and he was so, so glad he called for Donnie.

[spoilmesweetieforficssake]

Hi I really love your writing! Not sure if you are taking any prompts, no worries if not!

I was wondering if you could something with Melissa x reader similar to Janine and Gregory where they both work at the school and maybe the reader is dating someone but they have a moment like the club scene or PECSA weekend.

Hope you're having a good day lovely human!

Not dead! Nor have I given up on writing or filling the prompts I still have to fill! But a weird thing did happen - I went to a hypnotist show with friends thinking I wouldn't be affected... Long story short, I remember the first fifteen minutes of the show. Apparently, I was in the show for the rest of it. So that was a thing. But that's not the weird thing. The hypnotist said that a side effect of his hypnosis is often a better ability to focus, a quieter mind and less anxious thoughts. I have to hand it to the man, his words seem to be true. An unexpected side effect of this for me though is that it turns out the noise and chatter in my mind actually helps me write my fics. Now it's all a bit quiet in there and it's been hard to get the words out. But, that doesn't mean I don't still love writing - so we're pushing through.

I do have a confession though - this story has two prompts noted at the top of it in my drafts and although I can't find any evidence that I've posted it under either prompt, if I have already posted this and somehow have missed it, please let me know and I shall take the duplicate down.

Anyway, enough about me. Enough rambling. I hope you enjoy!

*~*

It would be easier if she wasn’t nice to you. 

If she wasn’t nice to you, she could just be the untouchable, hot as hell, fiery goddess you admired from afar. 

But no.  She let you sit with her and Barb at lunch.  She even brought you lunch after a few conversations had strayed into discussing cooking and favourite recipes during said lunch breaks.

How were you meant to get over your ridiculous crush when she actually gave you the time of day?  When she smiled like that?  When her whole face lit up and she gestured so animatedly when she got caught up talking about something?

And as if that wasn’t enough, how were you ever meant to recover after seeing her so soft with her students?  Going out of her way to open up to them and help them. 

It was ridiculous, though.  You knew that.  What good was ever going to come of it? 

Kid.  That’s what she calls you.  It’s a constant reminder of the age gap between you.  Of the chasm that you feel you can’t even begin to cross when she sees you as some eager little kid.

You’ve always had a thing for older women.  From those early, confused days of watching your on-screen idols, to realising you didn’t want to be them.  You didn’t want to be friends with them.  You just wanted them. 

You want one in particular, but as you look across at her, her red hair ablaze in the sunshine, you force those feelings down once more.  If friendship is what she’s offering you’re not about to beat her with that olive branch.  You’ll deem yourself lucky and move on.

Even if she has ruined you for anyone else. 

*~*

“You know,” drawled Barbara.  “It’s beginning to become a habit.”

“What is?” asked Melissa, turning to face her friend with a frown. 

“Staring at her,” said the older woman, eyebrow raised. 

The red head scoffs.  “As if.  I don’t know what you think you’re seeing but that ain’t it.”

*

It was all said in jest to begin with.  Gentle teasing about a few wayward glances.  That was until Barb started to see her best friend be genuinely nice to you. 

To begin with, she tolerated you.  You weren’t one of the eager little puppies she so often saw when it came to younger new hires.  That much was evident from the start.  You were an old soul.  You carried a different energy. 

One that Melissa apparently appreciated just as much as the view.  Barb stood beside her the red head as they watched over the kids leaving school, keeping an eye on the them as they left for the day, making their way to busses, rides or parents.  Or rather, Barb was keeping watch over the children.  A quick glance at Melissa confirmed that her attention was directed at you where you stood a little way off, chatting happily with a young girl about the book she was waving at you as she waited for her mother to collect her. 

“Girl…”

“Don’t,” sighed Melissa, crossing her arms across her chest. 

That took Barb by surprise.  She had expected the red head to deny it.  “You mean?”

“It’s stupid.  She’s some pretty young thing and I’m…older than I care to admit.”

Turning to look at her friend, her expression sad, the older woman reached out and placed a comforting hand on the other woman’s arm.  “And?  What’s it called?  A Spring, Winter romance?”

“May, December,” corrected Melissa automatically.  “But same thing.”

“Exactly” said Barb.  “There’s a name for it and everything.  It’s a thing.”

“It’s not a thing,” huffed the red head, turning on her heel and heading back into the building.  “It’s stupid and I’ll get over it, just like I do everything else in my life.”

*~*

You’re not sure you’re entirely on board for PECSA. 

Out of school, things are different.  Lines are blurred and you’re seeing a whole different side to your colleagues.  You’re not sure if it’s liberating or terrifying.  And that’s before you add in the factor of the other teachers who have also been set free from the constraints of the classroom and are now loose in the wild.

You’re sure your confusion must show on your face, particularly when at the end of one of the breakout sessions you find yourself caught up in conversation with a striking older woman who teaches at another school across town.

You don’t see Melissa at first, who watches the interaction with interest.  She’s not used to seeing you outside of school, and it takes her back to realise that the woman is flirting with you.  Openly and blatantly flirting with you.  She’s touching your arm, leaning into you.  Smiling and laughing. 

In return, you know you’re blushing something terrible, especially when the woman hands you a page from her notebook with her number scrawled across it.  Watching the woman walk away, throwing you a smile over her shoulder to you, you finally see the red head standing in the doorway where she said she’d meet you so you could head for lunch together.

“She not a bit old for you?” she asks as you approach, your blush still heating your cheeks.

You frown.  “If she looks like that and thinks I’m hot enough to give me her number, they’re the numbers I’m interested in,” you reply, heading in the direction of the lunch buffet. 

Barb overhears the comment, unable not to smirk at your flash of sass.  “Jealous?” she asks, leaning into the red head’s space. 

“Of what?” barks Melissa, crossing her arms across her chest as she watches you go.  “Oh leave off!” she snarks at the older woman’s raised eyebrow.

*

How the day has gone from serious talks and breakout sessions to cocktails by the pool you’re still trying to wrap your head around.  Adjusting your cover up, you head around the side of the pool, heading for the bar.  You hope the day starts to feel a little bit more normal with a drink in your hand. 

Gazing out over the water, you catch sight of Melissa.  Or rather, you catch sight of a lot more of Melissa than you’ve ever had the privilege of seeing before.  Not looking where you’re walking as your eyes drink in the magnificent view there’s no saving yourself as you step forward and your foot finds water instead of concrete.

“Is that?” Melissa asks incredulously at the dramatic splash that comes from the other side of the pool.  She’s up out of her lounger before Barb can comment and the older teacher can only watch on in amusement as the red head storms off in your direction. 

You pull yourself out of the pool, allowing yourself to perch on the edge as you try your best to ignore the chuckles of those around you who have noticed your mishap. 

“What the fuck happened?”

You look up and of course Melissa is there.  Right there, lit up in the sun like an angel, red hair haloed around her head.  It takes a moment to realise that her eyes are roving over you, and not just your face.  You glance down where your cover up now clings to your skin, almost see through. 

Looking up you see Melissa blink rapidly a few times before offering you a hand.  You reach for her, smiling as she helps pull you to your feet.  “Thanks,” you smile sheepishly.  “I guess I should go change.”

“It’s a pool, you’re allowed to be a little wet,” the red head smirks back at you.  “Besides, we’re this close to the bar now, be rude not to take advantage.”

*

Melissa appears at the bar next to you with a huff, grumbling under her breath.  Her attention is focused on trying to get the attention of the barman.  Mumbling though she is, she’s speaking just loud enough for you to make out what she was saying. 

“He was an ass,” you tell her, watching as her head whipped around, finally realising you were there. 

“What?” she asks with a frown, already tipsy. 

“Your ex,” you enlighten her.  You may not have heard the comment that led to her current dip in mood, or ever have met the man, but you know enough.

Her frown only deepens.  “You don’t know a thing about him.”

“I know he didn’t appreciate what he had and left you,” you offer, ordering a drink when the barman appears in front of you, before turning back to Melissa to ask what she wants.  You find her looking at you oddly, her expression unreadable.  She quickly snaps out of it and barks and order at the bartender.

*

Barb has had more than a few drinks, it would appear as she flags you down to sit with her as you pass her table. 

“Sit, sit,” she smiles, trying to reach for your arm and push the chair out next to her at the same time in an uncoordinated matter. 

Catching her hands, you still her as you slide into the seat beside her to placate her.  Her gaze is a little unfocused, her words edging towards slurred.  You hadn’t quite realised how drunk she was, but then again, looking around the room, it would have been more of a surprise for her to be sober. 

“Don’t call that woman,” she tells you, leaning into your space.

“What woman?” you frown.

“That woman who gave you her number,” says Barbara like it’s obvious. 

You try not to think about the fact that for Barb to know, Melissa must have mentioned it.  That it’s been on her mind enough to mention it to the older woman.  “Why not?”

“She wouldn’t like it.”

“She gave me her number,” you point out.  “I don’t think she would mind.”

Barb shakes her head.  “Not her.  Her,” she says, nodding across the room to where Melissa is standing. 

You cross your arms across your chest.  “What has Melissa got to do with anything?”

Barb raises a single eyebrow, the action still smooth and effective despite her drunkenness and it makes you blush. 

Averting your gaze, you shake your head.  “It doesn’t matter what I feel,” you sigh.  “She’s not…She thinks I’m some stupid kid.”

What you don’t see, is Melissa standing close enough behind your chair to catch your words.

*

Somewhere after speaking to Barb you decide that trying to be the sober parent of your little Abbott family just isn’t working.  You’ve lost track of most of them, and honestly, you’ve given up trying to find them.  They’re all adults and can fend for themselves.

You still have eyes on Barb and Melissa though, the former dancing up a storm and the latter apparently winning an ill-advised drinking competition. 

Not that you can judge, of course.  You know you’ve drunk more than you should, feeling pleasantly buzzed from your seat in the corner of the bar.  You should call it a night before you do something you’ll regret, like call the woman Barbara told you not to.  Sober, you wouldn’t.  Drunk, you’re flattered enough and wouldn’t say no to the company. 

With a sigh, you push yourself up out of your seat and head towards the elevators.  Pushing the button, you watch the numbers light up as the lift descends.  You squeak in surprise when a strong pair of hands land on your hips, turning you around as a plump pair of lips meet you own.

“I don’t think you’re some stupid kid.”

You blink slowly a few times, taking in the woman before you.  Melissa.  Melissa Schemmenti just kissed you.  You shouldn’t, but you don’t have it in you to deny yourself the pleasure of feeling her lips against yours once more.  You kiss her back with enthusiasm, not protesting when she backs you into the elevator as it opens and moaning as your back hits the wall of the small metallic box, the weight of Melissa pressed against you. 

You’ve always admired her curves.  Pressed against you they’re a dream. 

The clearing of a throat far to close snaps you out of your living dream and you feel Melissa take a step back, biting her lip as she guiltily throws a glance over her shoulder, registering Barb standing in the elevator, her back to you both as if she hasn’t just witnessed exactly what you were both doing. 

Standing close, you grin at the devious smirk being aimed your way by a certain red head.  There’s a dangerous glimmer of mischief in her eyes.  Smudged lipstick and mussed hair from where you hands couldn’t help but run thought it complete the look.  The woman is a work of art. 

You look up as the elevator doors chime open, realising this is your floor.  Stepping forward, you slip past Barb, who merely raises an eyebrow.  You throw a look back at Melissa, who sways forward as though to follow you, before hesitating. 

The doors slide shut, and honestly, it’s probably for the best.

You miss the dark chuckle Barb lets out as the lift begins to ascend once more.

“What you laughing at?” asks Melissa, scowling.  She’s annoyed with herself for hesitating.  She knows what she wants, and she just let it walk out of the elevator.

“You two think you’re subtle?” the older woman drawls.  “She has more of your lipstick on than you do.”

*

If PECSA was party central the night before, it was hangover central the morning after.  You’re sitting outside on the low wall, sunglasses firmly in place, your phone in one hand and a bottle of water in the other as you take in the cool morning air. 

“You regret what happened last night?”

You turn to see Melissa, similarly attired.  “What?”

She comes to stand beside the wall on which you’re sat, her gaze wandering anywhere but you as she speaks.  “I came to your room last night.  You didn’t answer.”

“I didn’t hear you,” you admit, watching as her head whips around.  “Too busy throwing up everything I ever drank.”  You feel the blush dusting your cheeks, but continue.  This feels too important to let a little embarrassment stop you.  You take off your sunglasses so she can see your face as you speak,  “I have many regrets about my choices last night, but what happened in the elevator isn’t one of them.”

A slow smile spreads across her lips as she shifts to take a seat next to you.  She slips her own sunglasses off, finally letting you see her eyes.  “Good to know,” she murmurs.  “Me neither.”

You can’t help but smile at that.  You notice her gaze wandering and realise she staring at the phone still clutched in your hand. 

“You planning on using that number you were so interested in yesterday?”

“Honestly?” you ask, seeing the uncertainty in her face as she nods regardless.  “That woman was hot, and while I was more than a little flattered she gave me her number…she isn’t a patch on you.”

Pale cheeks blush adorably pink at your words.  Melissa isn’t used to hearing things like what from you.

“Don’t look so surprised,” you scoff, nudging her shoulder.  “You’ve seen yourself in a mirror, right?  And you needn’t think I go falling in pools over every pretty woman I see.”

“I really distracted you that badly, huh?” she asks, a little of her confidence returning.

You bump her shoulder with yours once more.  “Shut up.”

A gentle hand moves to cup your cheek, turning you to face her as Melissa presses a gentle kiss to your lips.  “For the record,” she says quietly.  “I don’t think you’re some stupid little kid.  I think you’re beautiful.”

You take in a shuddering breath.  It all feels too good to be true.  “What happens at PECSA stays at PECSA?” you ask sadly.

“I’ve never been one for playing by the rules,” she smirks back at you, pressing another quick kiss to your lips before pushing herself to her feet and offering a hand to you.  “Come on, we gotta go find Barb.  Reunite her with her shoes, sobriety and sanity.”

You take the hand being offered like a lifeline, grinning as Melissa starts walking, swinging your joined hands between you.  It’s only as you pass through the front doors to the building that her words even register.  “Wait?  Her shoes?”

[marauder-misprint]

Hello to you lovely human being! Happy 500 followers its my first time requesting so forgive me if anything is formatted weird :p im always updated on ur fics and now im finally requesting something:DDD ok so could u please write something like coworker james x reader when theyre both stuck at for a new years party with this prompt ⁴⁾ “i’m still in the market for someone to kiss at midnight, if you’re up for it.” and this scenario? ¹²⁾ being stuck at work for the night, watching everyone else celebrate from afar :D i'd love for u to write it but its definitely okay if u dont want to

Thank you! and thank you for the request ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ I love love love writing cutesy things like this. Hope you enjoy!

Working New Year's

coworker!James Potter x reader

1.0k words

cw: fluff

You had drawn one of the short straws. The restaurant you worked at had been booked for a New Year’s Eve party and you were working it. You knew you were missing getting hammered with your friends in some random bar, but you tried to look on the bright side: at least it was holiday pay and your coworker was not the worst. 

Yes, “not the worst” was probably the best way to describe James Potter. He was attractive and he knew it, flirting with guest after guest. The old ladies who came in would request him. He was arrogant and overly confident. But, he was a hard worker. He got the job done. You knew that you’d be leaving no later than 1:15 a.m. after the party cleared out and you did your closing duties. 

It wasn’t anywhere near 1 a.m., though. Midnight hadn’t passed yet. It was barely 11 p.m. and you were refilling a tray of desserts. James was mixing drinks as guests came up for refills. He had been pleasant all evening. You think he picked up on that you’d rather not be there. Once everything was restocked, you went over to his station and leaned against the wall. 

“Where would you be tonight if you weren’t here?” James asked as a guest returned to the main party with a new drink. 

You pulled out your phone to check your friends’ groupchat.

“Looks like my friends are at The Chimera,” you sighed. “What ‘bout you?”

“Home,” he said, throwing his towel over his shoulder and then pushing his glasses up his nose. 

You tried not to laugh. James didn’t seem like a homebody to you. 

“What?” he asked, almost sounding insulted but the smile on his face told a different story.

“Sorry, but you? You don’t seem like a watch-fireworks-on-the-telly kind of bloke.”

He leaned on the counter between you. “What kind of bloke am I then?” 

You bit the inside of your cheek as you thought. 

“Hmmm, two options, I suppose. One, at some house party with your girlfriend. You wouldn’t be hosting. Or, dancing the night away in some club with some random girl you’ll never see again. You know, just a face to kiss at midnight. You’d probably exchange numbers but never text or call. I bet you have a few numbers in your phone now that are saved as New Years Kiss 2020 or something.” 

James laughed. “There are no numbers saved like that, I guarantee you, love. House party wouldn’t be bad and you’re right, I wouldn’t be hosting. Flat’s too small for that. But alas, no girlfriend.” A smirk pulled at his lips. “You could say I’m still in the market for someone to kiss at midnight, if you’re up for it.”

You raised your eyebrows with wide eyes. You had come to peace that you’d be without a New Year’s kiss this year. It had actually been years since you were without one, always either having a boyfriend or finding a friend or stranger to kiss. You cleared your throat, unsure if his offer was genuine.

“Should I be honored or did you tell Joe the same thing?” 

Joe was the manager who got stuck with the party. He had locked himself in his office to do “paperwork” but you both knew he would be watching a movie or something. 

James shook his head, laughing a bit harder.

“I’ll have you know that I have absolutely no desire to ring in the new year with Creepy Joe. You, on the other hand…”

You looked over at the party as his voice trailed off. You really wished you were out with your friends, mimicking the kind of revelry that was occurring before you. 

“Hey.” James’ voice was softer but now much closer to you. He had come out from behind the counter to stand right next to you. “Was that too straightforward?”

You didn’t say anything, still looking at the people dancing and laughing. 

“Not straightforward enough?”

You scoffed. “We’re at work, Potter. I don’t think we’re allowed to have a New Year’s kiss.”

“What’re they going to do? Fire their best employees when their manager isn’t even doing his job?”

You chuckled and turned to see James smiling at you. He knew he got you. And then the countdown started. You didn’t look away from him. His movements felt like they were going in slow motion. His step closer. An arm around your waist to pull you closer. Him leaning down, bring his face closer to yours. 

“Zero! Happy New Year!” echoed around you.

James’ lips crashed into yours. It was firm and lasted longer than you had expected from him. Even if he had been actually flirting with you, in your experience, New Year’s kisses were either the briefest thing or they turned into full-on snogging. James, however, lingered. He waited for you to pull away, and when you did, you felt the urge to reconnect your mouths again. His grip on your waist didn’t loosen, holding you close. 

“Happy New Year, love,” he whispered, letting his warm breath fan your face. It smelled of peppermint. 

“Happy New Year, James. And I know your resolution,” you said, unable to rid yourself of the smile that had appeared. “To stop stealing work mints!”

“What? Am I just supposed to ask a pretty girl to kiss me when I have bad breath?” he laughed. 

You shook your head as you slowly pulled out of his hands. “I already kissed you. You can drop the compliments.”

You gasped as he brought you back in closer to him. Your heart was pounding in your chest from the prolonged proximity to him. It also didn’t help that you could now focus on his muscular arms as they held you with no imminent traditional kiss. 

“What if I don’t want that to be our only kiss?” he asked in a low voice. His eyes were searching yours for an answer. “You can’t tell me you didn’t feel anything.”

“I-I… I… James,” you said, deflating slightly. You pushed away from him.

“Love,” he sighed as he let you go.

“Potter, we need to start cleaning up if I’m coming back to your flat after this,” you told him as you walked away.

“Wha-OH!” he exclaimed. You heard him stumble back behind the bar to start his closing duties. “On it.”

As you did your own closing duties, you thought that maybe his arrogance was well earned.