#why was he the SEXIEST PERSON OF ALL TIME on sunday | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jazzthatonewriterchick · 2 years ago

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HERE, KITTY, KITTY (18+ Fic)

Pairing: Aizawa x Black!Catgirl!Reader

Synopsis: In which you find yourself in the weirdest predicament after you’re scooped up and taken to a cat cafe after you decide to take the streets to fight some crime, and you’re adopted by your very anti-social and hot coworker Aizawa aka Eraserhead.

Story Warnings: Smutty smut, 18+ (MINORS GET AWAY), Swearing, Adult!Reader, Ear and Tail Stroking, Light Degradation, Spanking, Exhibitionism, Multiple Positions, Creampie, Unprotected PIV Sex, Facial, Scent Play, Collaring, Deepthroat, Cunnilingus, Begging, Edgeplay, Power Play, Rope Play/Shibari, Master Kink, Some Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Some Action

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer’s Note: I'm gonna try to finish this fic before the end of June cuz I'm gonna be soooo busy with my summer job & packing for my cruise. BUT we'll see! Stay safe! -Jazz

Read on AO3 here!

Other Chapters: One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen. Twenty. Twenty-One. Twenty-Two. Twenty-Three. Twenty-Four. Twenty-Five.

*********

SEVENTEEN.

As you walk down the hallway to UA one Monday morning, you have a pep in your step and a sway in your hips that is only accomplished by good sex.

It is the Monday right after the weekend and you are 100% ready to see Aizawa today.

You didn’t get a chance to see him on Sunday due to your schedules for the day not matching up, but he did text you and specifically stated that this weekend was the best he’s ever had with you. His words had you blushing and biting your lip like a schoolgirl with a crush.

And you did have a crush on Aizawa. Bad. You couldn’t get what transpired between you last weekend out of your head, let alone how it made you feel.

The sex flashbacks that randomly pop up throughout your day have you squeezing your thighs together and fanning yourself when no one is watching. You desperately wanted to call Aizawa over Sunday for a bit of privacy before getting back into the swing of work, but you knew better than to do that. He needed his time to relax with his daughter, after all.

Which is why you visited him last night in your cat form, which has become a usual occurrence now. He was happy to see you as usual and let you snuggle with Eri on the couch while he whipped up dinner in the form of spicy ramen.

“I want you to eat all of it because you begged me to make it,” he told Eri as she excitedly took her bowl to the couch, making you giggle on the inside.

The Sunday night went on peacefully, ending with Eri taking a bath as you watched her from the floor, bursting over how cute she looked singing Disney songs as she scrubbed behind her ears and tossed you balls from the water to play with. Y

ou had cuddled with her for a while as she slept hours later in her bed before moving to the living room and sleeping at Aizawa’s feet as he slumbered on the couch. You were beginning to feel like you belonged with the duo.

Like one happy little family.

When you walk through the first floor of UA towards the elevators, it is impossible for others to not see the confidence radiating off of you. Though you’ve always felt good in your clothes, everything on you seems to feel much better today.

The pretty, rose-colored dress you chose for today’s outfit feels amazing on your skin and body. The flats on your feet seem sexy to you. The soft makeup and hairstyle you styled at six in the morning today make you feel just like a model.

To you, you are the sexiest woman to walk the earth, and you have only one person to thank for making you feel like this. When you press the button for the elevator to take you up to the sixth floor, you don’t expect to come face to face with the same man who has been invading your dreams this weekend so early in the morning.

The man looks damn good. Even in his tracksuit and scarves which are his regular attire, he looks good. He stands tall with his shoulders back and a confident aura radiating off of him despite how tired he looks.

“Oh, Mr. Aizawa!” you cheerfully greet him, your heart leaping at the sight of him. “Good morning!” When his charcoal eyes land on you, they widen an inch and they only boost your confidence even more. ‘That’s it. Look at me.’

His pink tongue jets out to quick wet his pillowy-soft lips, sending your mind careening to things unholy. “Good morning, Ms. L/N,” he replies, your last name sounding like sex on his lips. Only you hear the low growl in them and it makes you hot.

Unfortunately, you can’t flirt with him as much as you want to or pounce on him as soon as the elevator doors close because one of the janitors is in there too. “Good morning, Mr. Tokoma,” you sweetly say despite your pussy weeping in disappointment.

“Good morning!” the older man replies, tipping his janitor’s hat at you. “Don’t mind the vacuum. She won’t bite ya.”

He shimmies to the left of the elevator cart with his vacuum, making room for you. You thank him and enter the elevator. After finding the sixth-floor button to already be lit, you shimmy behind the janitor to take Aizawa’s side.

When the elevator doors close, the air is tense and thick with a desire that only you and Aizawa can feel. Feeling him next to you and constantly breathing in his cologne is driving you insane.

Though Mr. Tokoma has no idea about your building horniness, you wished to God that he never decided to take the elevator this morning. It takes everything in you to not reach for Aizawa just to feel him, but you keep your hands firmly at your sides.

Aizawa, in contrast, doesn’t. When you suddenly feel his hand brushing against your tail, you nearly gasp. Though his touch is soft and slow, it sends every nerve in your tail into a frenzy. You have to bite your lip to keep from moaning as he slides his hand from the base to the tip, gliding his fingers across the soft fur.

He is then behind you, as quiet as a church mouse. He barely makes a sound as his fingers leave your tail and begin to lightly trail up your thigh.

Mr. Tokoma sighs, wiping the back of his neck. “Thank goodness for the AC,” he sighs, popping the collar to his janitor uniform. “Warm outside today.” Aizawa’s fingers sneak up your dress to your inner thighs, prying them open. It is just enough to brush against the outside of your panties.

“Y-Yes,” you stutter out. “Very…very…hot.”

Aizawa softly chortles at you losing your shit as he begins to gently stroke you through your panties right in the elevator. If Mr. Tokoma were to turn even slightly to the right, he would be able to see this unfold for himself. Aizawa continues to nudge at your clit with his fingers, making your toes curl in your shoes as sparks of pleasure shoot through your core.

“Might wanna relax yourself, kitty,” he whispers into your ear, low enough so only you can hear. “You might catch some eyes.”

And then his fingers are sneaking under your panties to press against your naked pussy lips. You gasp but mask it with a yawn as his fingers dip in and out of your pussy, slow and teasing. You could kill him for this shit but dammit, it feels good!

When the elevator dings for the third floor, you jump and instinctively clamp your thighs together, causing Aizawa’s fingers to become trapped between your inner thighs. “This is me,” the janitor says, giving you both a friendly smile, not even noticing Aizawa’s fingers playing under your dress. “Have a good day, you two!”

“You too, Mr. Tokoma,” Aizawa says, and you plaster on a smile as the elevator doors begin to close.

Finally, it’s only you two left, much to Aizawa’s liking. As soon as you’re left alone, he’s ripping his hand from under your dress and pouncing onto you like a jaguar finally let out of his cage. He swiftly pushes you against the wall and traps you between himself and the wall before pressing a toe-curling kiss onto your waiting lips.

You moan appreciatively into the kiss, dropping your bag to the floor and throwing your arms around him. He presses his hips snuggly against your groin and begins to grind into you, giving you a taste of his hardening dick. With every roll of his hips, he grinds against your clit, making your body shiver and shudder in pleasure. He pulls away from you and slams a hand against the wall above you, still grinding down into your clit like he’s trying hard to make you both cum.

“S-Shouta, baby,” you gasp, your hands grasping his shoulders. “Wait…someone could come in and–oh, fuck!”

He suddenly rolls his hips to the right, brushing against a spot of your clit that makes you see stars. “Just keep your voice down,” he whispers against your lips. “No one takes the elevators this early in the morning. I’ll make sure of it.”

Before you can respond, he’s leaning over to jam on the button to pause the elevator ride. The elevator suddenly stops moving, leaving the two of you to do as you please. Aizawa’s attention is all on you now. He hikes your leg up on his hip and continues to grind his dick against you, becoming harder by the second.

“I’ve missed you so much,” he growls into your neck. “You’re all I fuckin’ think about now. Can’t even focus on work because of you.” You whine in desperation as you feel the pleasure building. You can’t believe this is happening in an elevator at work. It’s so wrong, yet it feels so, so right.

Suddenly, Aizawa pulls away and stares dead into your eyes as his fingers fumble for the zipper of his tracksuit. He yanks it down, revealing the wifebeater underneath that is tight on his upper torso and briefs that are even tighter on his hard, throbbing cock. “Look at me,” he says, his voice strained with need. “This is what you do to me.”

Your eyes flicker down to his cock and you find yourself salivating for it. You’re fiending for him and his cum. You don’t care how you get it. You just want it now.

Quickly, you drop to your knees in front of him and go for his briefs. “What are you doing?” he asks, mortified, quickly pushing your hands away. “No, no, Y/N, don’t.”

“Shhh,” you shush him, staring up at him with a sexy smirk. “Just keep your voice down. Nobody is takin’ the elevator this early, right?”

He doesn’t stop you as you pull down the band to his briefs, freeing his hard dick for your enjoyment, but he doesn’t look particularly glad about this. “I don’t–fuck!”

His sentence is cut off with a long moan as you wrap your hand around his cock and begin slowly stroking him. You spit a generous amount of saliva onto his shaft, loving the way it shines as you stroke it over his dick. Once he is generously lubed up, you wrap your lips around him and begin to softly suck him off. “I’ve been missin’ this dick in my face,” you moan, continuing to swirl your tongue around his swollen cockhead.

You treat him like your personal lollipop, loving the taste of him. You don’t tease him for too long, worried you’re running out of time. So you begin to take him into your throat, making sure to open your throat and breathe through your nostrils as you give him neck. He is loving it.

Labored breaths and soft moans leave his lips as you give him throat, gagging all over his cock. “Oh, my God, Y/N,” he groans, his gorgeous eyes rolling to the ceiling. “You’re so fuckin’ good at this.”

The praise eggs you on and you go faster, desperate to get him to that point of no return. No matter how much your knees ache and your throat burns, you continue to deepthroat him, stroking him in time with your sucking and head bobbing. Saliva drips down your chin and his heavy balls, creating small pools on the elevator floor by your knees.

You can tell Aizawa is getting close when he begins to grip your hair and thrust his hips into your mouth. You welcome it, stretching your mouth out wider. “Just like that,” he huffs out, gripping your hair tighter. “Just like that, kitty, and I’mma cum. Keep goin’...so close…”

You hum in encouragement, bobbing faster and faster, the wet sounds of his thick cock stroking your throat getting louder. You want him to cum deep down your throat. You want to taste all of him. His hips begin to slam against your mouth as he chases his orgasm, his grunts and moans growing more urgent.

“Cumming!” he grunts out. “I’m cumming! Take all of it, kitty!”

And you do. Once he lets out a low moan of your name and bursts in your mouth, you take every single ounce down his throat. You don’t have a choice. His head firmly holds you there on his dick, forcing you to take every single pump of his creamy nut down your throat. But you gladly swallow what you can down despite his dick still in your mouth.

When he finally finishes, he releases you with a soft groan and composes himself while you begin to clean yourself up. You swallow the rest of his cum before licking your bottom lip where some of his nut dripped.

“That was amazing,” he sighs, smiling down at you as he puts his dick, wet with your spit, back in his briefs. You giggle at him, happy with the praise and feeling just as satisfied as him despite your soaked panties.

You don’t have much time for kissing and aftercare, especially when the elevator begins to move again. You gasp, quickly rising from your kneeling position while Aizawa goes to press the button again. But it’s too late. The elevator dings, signaling the arrival of a new floor.

“Oh, shit!” Aizawa gasps as the elevator doors abruptly open. You immediately jump away from him and attempt to wipe your mouth of any essence of Aizawa’s cum.

The doors open to reveal a very cheerful Mic holding a cup of coffee. “Hey, guys!” he greets as he walks into the elevator, oblivious to what just transpired between you.

He shimmies between the two of you, not at all noticing Aizawa zip his tracksuit and you give your hair. “You guys try the new oat-milk latte they opened at the coffee bar?” he asks. “It’s amazing!”

You clear your throat and sneakily pull down your dress to avoid flashing your friend. “No,” you breathlessly answer. “I’ll have to try it though. I do like a good dose of milk in the morning.”

Aizawa side-eyes you, and you have to cover your mouth to keep from giggling.

*********

You’ve never seen a child be so excited over plushies the way Eri is.

You’ve been watching the girl run around the arcade for the past twenty minutes now, going from one crane game to the next. She tends to gravitate toward those who hold anime plushies and stuffed animals, begging Aizawa to cough up more money for tickets.

“Pleeease, Daddy?” she whines to him now, giving him big, puppy dog eyes. “Just one more crane game and I’ll go play something else!”

Aizawa isn’t phased. He stares down at her with a tired expression on his face. “You said that twenty minutes ago and so far we’ve played six crane games.”

“But we haven’t won anything!” the little girl whines, fiddling with her yellow sundress that matches the hairbands in her pigtails. She looks so darn cute! You couldn’t help but gush over her when Aizawa picked her up for your lunch date today during the break.

“I promise I’ll go play Luigi’s Haunted House or one of the PacMan games next time!” she continues to bargain. “I just want the Hello Kitty! Look, she’s in All Might's outfit!” She turns to point at the Hello Kitty cosplay plushie behind the glass box of the crane game she’s got her eyes set on.

“You used up all your tickets, Eri,” Aizawa sighs, hands on his hips. “How are you gonna play if you don’t have any tickets? And we still need to eat.”

Eri just continued to whine and bargain with her dad, making you feel just as exhausted as Aizawa feels even though you’re just sitting at a nearby table with your club soda.

Aizawa had told you he had a feeling that Eri would lose her mind in an arcade, even opting to just take you for ice cream or to Koa’s Purr Palace for lunch. However, Eri had insisted on the arcade and you agreed, wanting to spend some time with the both of them out of your cat form for a change.

So far, it’s been fun watching Eri be the cutest little kid ever and Aizawa try to tame her chaotic self, but now you feel bad for the single dad. He’s obviously tired from watching over the UA crew all day during classes.

Deciding to give him a break, you stand from your seat and walk over to the adorable duo. “Hey, Eri,” you say, bending down at eye level to the little girl. “Why don’t we give your dad a break and I try this time?” You begin to pull out your wallet from your tote bag.

Eri’s eyes light up like Christmas trees as you do. “Really?!” she squeals excitedly, stomping her light-up sneakers around. You nod and slip her $10 for ten tickets.

“Go on over to the front desk and get ten tickets for us,” you whisper to her with a wink. “I promise I’ll getcha that Hello Kitty plushie. Then we can play some PacMan.”

You’ve never seen a kid look so happy before. Eri’s smile is contagious as she throws herself at you, wrapping her little arms around you tight. “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you, Ms. L/N!” she cheers before racing over to the front desk, her pigtails flopping about.

When you stand up, feeling good about yourself, Aizawa sneaks an arm around your waist. “You know you didn’t have to do that,” he sighs, sounding guilty. “That was your money. I wanted to treat you today.”

You twist around to face him and throw your arms around his neck. “You can treat me to pizza and sodas once I win this plushie for her,” you giggle. “Plus, I wanted to get her out of your hair. You looked like you wanted to stuff her in one of those crane machines.”

Aizawa smirks humorously at your dark humor. “She’s just excited. I don’t think I’ve ever brought her to an arcade before.” He looks incredibly guilty about this which breaks your heart. You hope he knows that he is a good dad.

Everyone who knows about Eri can see it, including you. He is attentive, loving, and nurturing while also stern–all of what a great father should be. It’s enough to make you almost want to have a baby with him too…almost. Or maybe that’s just your breeding kink speaking to you.

“Thanks a lot for accommodating,” he says, pecking your chin. “I know that this isn’t the ideal lunch we had in mind for today.”

He had wanted to take you out to a cafe for lunch today, one where he could count on you having privacy. However, Mirio having track practice and Shinso needing to study for a test meant Eri needed to be watched after.

“It is for me,” you coo. “I love spendin’ time with you two. I wouldn’t want to spend my break any other way.” And you mean that from the very bottom of your heart.

Aizawa’s gaze darkens, filling with something less than kind as he grips you to him. “Keep talkin’ like that and I’ll knock a screw loose in that bathroom over there,” he growls into your ear. His eyes flick across the arcade to the women’s bathroom. “You know I’d do it too.”

You nearly choke on a gasp as you feel his hand sneak to your ass. “And leave your daughter alone out here?” you gasp with laughter to hide your arousal. “What kind of father are you?”

Aizawa opens his luscious mouth, no doubt to say something dirty, but Eri’s sudden appearance makes him stop and tear his hand away from your butt.

“I’ve got the tickets, Ms. L/N!” she excitedly announces. She waves the string of gold tickets around and you applaud her. “Alright then, let’s go!”

You take her hand and walk over to the crane machine where the Hello Kitty plush among other cute plushies lies in wait. “I’m gonna need all of your power to help me with this, okay?” you tell Eri as you push the ticket into the slot. She vigorously nods and squeezes your hand while Aizawa chortles behind you, adoring this scene.

The crane machine comes to life, lighting up and playing music. You bend down towards the controller and grip it, your eyes set dead on the metal claw hanging above the plushies. You move the claw to the far back and slightly to the left, hovering right over the Hello Kitty plushie’s head. Your eyes flick toward its arm, noticing that it’s sticking out. Slowly and methodically, you lower the claw towards the hand and press the button to lower it down.

When the claw snags the plushie’s arm, you feel your heart leap. “You’ve almost got it, Ms. L/N!” Eri encouragingly shouts. “C’mon, you can do it! I believe in you!” She squeezes your hand for dear life, nearly crushing your fingers.

With your other hand on the controller, you carefully move the claw holding the plushie toward the opening that leads to a hole in the machine. The plushie doesn’t slip an inch during its travel. Once you’re above the opening, you press the button to open the claw and release the plushie down into the hole.

“I’ve got it!” you shout, just as excited as Eri. The squeal she lets out could break windows. You retrieve the soft Hello Kitty plushie for her and she hugs it close, squeezing it to her tiny body.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” she shouts, wrapping her arms around your waist. You bend down to hug her back, adoration flooding inside of you. “Alright, alright,” Aizawa chuckles, settling her down. “Now let’s get some victory lunch.”

Several minutes later, you and Aizawa sit at your table with two big slices of pizza and iced Cokes for lunch that he paid for (he refused to take your money). Eri already gobbled her hotdog down and is currently playing one of those driving games. Aizawa had to pick her up and place her in one of the cars because she was too short to get in one. She sits in a pink car now with her plushie, giggling as she steers the wheel this way and that.

“Thanks a lot for gettin’ her that plushie,” Aizawa says appreciatively. You wave him off as you chomp down on your pizza. “It’s the least I could do after earlier,” you reply.

You flush at the memory; mostly because you still feel the ache in your knees from kneeling at Aizawa’s feet as you sucked him off in the elevator. “Did Mic suspect anything?” you timidly ask. “Y’know…about us?”

Aizawa flicks his eyes towards you as he sips his Cofe. “Oh, he knows already,” he replies as if you just asked if the sky is blue. “There’s no way he couldn’t know, but he won’t flap his gums if that’s what you’re worried about.”

He sighs, looking like he’s dreading something. “He’ll tease me about to hell and back though,” he mutters to himself. You giggle, picturing Mic making kissy faces at Aizawa.

“That was absolutely amazing, by the way,” he says, lowering his voice so only you can hear the need within his words. “I couldn’t stop thinkin’ about your pretty mouth today.”

You flush in your clothes and force yourself to clamp your thighs together. You do not need to be getting horny surrounded by children.

You couldn’t stop thinking about earlier either. You’ve never done something like that in an elevator before, and the idea of getting caught turned you on more than you realized. Maybe it’s the man sitting across from you bringing the freak out of you.

You smile at Aizawa, using your foot to nudge at his leg. The urge to touch him, feel him, is burning within you. But as you do, you notice the dark circles under his eyes and the way he yawns into his fist. You’re just now noticing how drained he looks. “You look so tired,” you worriedly point out. “Is everything okay with work?”

He passively shrugs at your worry. “As okay as grading papers and teaching classes back to back can go.”

He takes your hand in his across the table, birthing butterflies in your stomach. “Did you maybe wanna come over tonight if you have time?” you ask, brushing your fingers over his knuckles. “You don’t have to stay, but maybe I could give you a nice massage to ease your stress.”

“Fuck, you’re too sweet,” he groans. “I’d love to, but I’m afraid the police chief needs me for a mission tonight.”

At this, you sit up a little straighter, your ears straight up at attention. He heaves a sigh, pushing his half-eaten pizza away. “I wasn’t planning on telling you this because I didn’t want you to worry, but a new villain hit the streets. He’s more underground so it’s been kept under wraps, but his quirk is worrying the police department.”

“What’s his quirk?” you wonder aloud, picking your own meal up from your paper plate.

“They’ve dubbed it ‘transparency’,” Aizawa explains as you chomp on your pizza. “He can walk through walls and any kind of solid matter, including floors and the ground. He’s been poppin’ up over the past couple of months committing petty crime, but lately, he’s been committing serious felonies as paid hits, like assaulting and killing white-collar folks in the wealthier side of Musutafu. They keep a lot of that shit hush-hush though.” He pauses, sipping his Coke.

“So why do they want you to catch him?” you curiously ask.

“Because they trust me and know I’ve had experience with underground villains.” He shrugs. “It’s a blessing and a curse. Tonight, they suspect that he’ll show up downtown at an opera show because most of the city’s white-collar folks and elite congregate down there.”

You pause, picturing him sitting among the rich folk in their seats, his eyes skimming over the audience shrouded in darkness for his target. “So they want you to go to the opera tonight?”

Aizawa nods, not looking too happy about it. “With a suit and everything to blend in. They’re also giving me an earpiece to contact the police department, but I’m used to that.”

You stare at him, picturing him in a nice suit and kicking ass all alone. The thought makes you feel almost sad rather than aroused. He notices and raises a brow at you. “What?” he asks, staring blankly at you.

You begin to play with his fingers, adverting your eyes from his. “So you’re going alone?” you ask worriedly. “No one is going with you?”

“No, but I’m fine, kitty,” he assures you. “You don’t have to worry about someone like me.” You still stare down at his hands, noticing the brush of healed cuts and bruises on his knuckles.

“What’s with the face?” he asks, laughter in his tone. You pull away from his hands to take a drink and begin to silently fumble with your straw, trying to think of a good way to ask him to let you come with him tonight as backup.

He seems to already know what you’re thinking though. “Uh-uh,” he firmly says. “No. You better not be thinkin’ what I think you’re thinkin’, Y/N.” You look up at him, the brat in you taking the driver’s seat. “And what is that, Shouta?” you innocently ask.

His expression is fixed and hard, not up for the BS from you. “You’re not coming with me to the opera. Not a chance in hell. This is a me job.”

You roll your eyes at his pride. “C’mon, don’t go Bruce Wayne on me again,” you whine in protest. “I’ve shown you how good of a fighter I am time and time again, Shouta. I’m great backup!”

He still looks resistant, his eyebrows knitted together in a permanent scowl. “That, you are, but this is some serious shit, Y/N. Underground villains are way more sneakier which makes them extremely dangerous and high-risk.”

You cut your eyes at him, feeling irked by his attempt to sway your decision. “You think I can’t handle it?” you scoff, irked by the way he’s making you feel. “You think I’ll distract you?”

The stare Aizawa fixes you with curbs your attitude somewhat, but you can’t help but feel like a little kid he’s lecturing. You don’t need that shit. You’re a grown-ass woman! “You know I don’t think that,” he firmly says, “but you’re not actually a seasoned or official hero either.”

As right as he is about that (which you hate), you’re also the most stubborn bitch in the world. You won’t go down with a fight. So you push your food away and fold your hands under your chin, prepared for an argument.

“Shouta, I literally helped you take down two villains with guns trying to stick up an art exhibit with no problem. I think I can handle this.” You give him a reassuring smile that doesn’t thaw the ice encased in his eyes.

“I’m not gonna get in your way or distract you from your mission, but you’ll need another set of eyes and hands–and, honey, I’ve got two of the best ones.”

You flex your hand where your claws extend from your nails. You don’t even mention your heightened senses, which you’re sure he knows about and has taken into consideration.

“Plus, this would be the perfect time for me to learn how to be more of an effective hero. You could teach me all about how to conduct myself on a mission!”

Your words register across Aizawa’s handsome face, but he still looks hesitant. You know it’s for your protection more than anything. You take his hands in yours once more and press a kiss to them.

“You always want to protect other people,” you softly say, “but, Sho, who’s gonna protect you?” He doesn’t respond. He simply stares at your hands in his, thinking to himself.

“Just for tonight, Sho,” you promise. “That’s all I ask.”

Finally, his eyes meet yours and you can see his defeat. He sighs, running a hand down his face. “God, damn you for bein’ so cute,” he groans exhaustedly. “Alright, fine, but you’d better know what you’re in for.”

You grin excitedly to yourself, feeling accomplished. You couldn’t have asked for a better end to your lunch date.

**********

That night, after a pep talk in the mirror and some mental preparation for tonight, you leave your dorm to go see Aizawa.

You decide not to sneak out your window in your cat form, instead simply walking out of the faculty dorms with a duffle bag full of tonight’s attire. If anyone asks, you’re just going to Planet Fitness because they have more equipment.

Just a little white lie to accommodate why you’re sneaking out so late at night in nothing but Nike gear and sneakers.

You don’t walk out the doors immediately. You take some time to assess your environment and tap into your senses. You don’t hear or sense anyone coming, even after ten minutes of waiting.

With labored breath, you quickly make your way out of the lobby and outside to walk across campus, your heart pounding against your chest.

You’re just about to cross the threshold to the street when you’re spotted. “Stop right there!” a voice shouts from behind you.

You jump, causing your tail to poof up and your ears to shoot back as you’re startled. When you turn around, prepared to scratch the stranger in the first if necessary, you find that it isn’t a stranger at all. It’s Nemuri in her silk nightgown and slippers with Mic right behind her.

“Nemuri?” you question, squinting at her in confusion. “What are you doing out here so late at night?

Nemuri puts her hands on her slim hips, glaring at you like an angry mom. “You know, that line is really meant for you, but I already know what you’re doing. Don’t you think you’re going too far with this, Y/N?”

You grip the strap to your gym back to you, biting your lip. ‘Just ask natural,’ you think. ‘Don’t tell them shit.’

“What do you mean?” you dumbly ask. Nemuri rolls her eyes, obviously not here for your innocent act, but Mic puts a hand on her arm to stop her from telling you off.

He steps forward, taking his glasses off to give you a closer look at his concern. “We’ve been meaning to talk to you, Y/N,” he carefully says. “Nemuri and I both agree that this nightly activity has run its course.”

Understanding his words, you are filled with sudden, hot anger. “You’ve been talking about me behind my back?” you hiss, irate. Mic blushes at your rage, caught like a deer in headlights.

“Y/N, we’re just worried!” Nemuri exclaims, exasperated. “Look at you! You’re covered in bruises, we barely see you anymore, you’re taking off from work more and more, and not to mention you’re seeing Aizawa now.”

You flush with embarrassment and shame under the moonlight, feeling like its silvery rays serve as a spotlight for you. “You still haven’t told him yet, have you?” Nemuri questions. “About this cat thing?”

The sudden urge to cry bursts behind your sinuses. You don’t need this right now. You don’t need to be here getting lectured and criticized like a child.

“Look, I’m trying, okay?” you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose to avoid crying. “But it’s kind of hard to tell the man you’ve been pinning after, who also likes you back, that you’ve been sneaking into his dorm pretending to be the cat he adopted for his adorable daughter so she’d be less lonely.”

Nemuri and Mic silently share a look of confusion. “Wait…what?” Nemuri asks, utterly confused. “We’re talking about you being Night Claw. What are you talking about?”

Your eyes widen as the realization that you epicly fucked up hits you like an Amtrack train. “Shit,” you hiss, facepalming yourself.

Nemuri stares at you like she barely knows you anymore. “Have you been using your cat form to visit Aizawa ever since the night he adopted you?” she asks, shocked. “Does Aizawa know you’re Night Claw already?”

Mic looks between you both, clueless. “Wait, what happened?” he asks, lost. He stares at you, dumbfounded. “You can turn into a cat?!” he shockingly exclaims, gaping at you.

You keep quiet, shaking slightly like a leaf in the winter because you’ve been caught in your lie. Nemuri fixes you with a hard, laser-like stare that peels back the mental armor you’ve been shielding yourself with for months. “Y/N, you’d better start talking now.”

You growl to yourself, your shame winning over your pride. “Okay, okay!” you defeatedly shout. “Yes, he knows that I’m Night Claw and he was fine with it. And yes, I’m able to transform into a cat and I’ve been using it to my advantage when I’m out in the streets. One night, I got hurt and was picked up by this old lady who took me to her cat cafe.”

“The Purr Palace?” Mic asks, squinting quizzically at you. “That’s Eri’s favorite place.”

You slowly nod, staring down at your Nike kicks. “One day, Aizawa came in with Eri and he adopted me. I swear, it was only supposed to be one time and I was gonna tell Aizawa the truth, but…”

You trail off as teas begin to well in your eyes. God, you’re so fucking stupid.

“But what?” Nemuri pushes.

You huff, roughly wiping at your eyes. “Things got complicated,” you confess. “I saw how happy I was making them and felt obligated to continue to role-play as their pet. Then Aizawa finally started talking to me and I knew if I told him the truth about the cat thing, he’d never talk to me again.”

Nemuri curtly laughs at your confession which isn’t at all the reaction you thought she would have. “So this is all about you, right?” she scoffs, looking almost disgusted by you. “You’re keeping this from Aizawa because he wanna keep him.”

“No!” you shout, then weakly backtrack. “I-I mean, yes, but this is about his happiness more than anything. I just want to keep him and Eri happy!”

“By lying to them?” Nemuri demands. “I’ll admit, initially keeping the Night Claw thing a secret was sexy and mysterious until I saw how it was affecting you. But now I see that this wasn’t the case at all.”

She crosses her arms over her ample bosom, fixing you with a disappointed stare that makes you grow even hotter with shame. “It’s bad enough you’re lying to Aizawa about the cat thing, but lying to Eri too? She’s just a child, Y/N! A very lonely and vulnerable one at that!”

Anger starts to mix with the shame you feel, making one very bad cocktail. You glare daggers at Nemuri, pissed that she’s lecturing you over something you already know is pretty fucked up. “Okay, ladies,” Mic weakly says, moving to step between you. “Why don’t we just–”

“Don’t you think I know that?” you bellow angrily at your friend. “That’s why I’m doing this. Aizawa adopted me so I could keep Eri company. It’s my job now, Nemuri!”

“No, it’s not!” she angrily argues. “Your job is to tell Aizawa the truth. And if it’s not you, then it will be me.”

You gape at her, trying to decide if she’s deadass serious or not. “You wouldn’t,” you growl. But her intense stare says everything you need to know. She means this shit with her whole chest. “Try me,” she sternly replies.

The white-hot anger takes over your body, causing you to not see Nemuri as a friend but as an enemy. And when it comes to enemies, cats only do one thing to keep them at bay: they hiss.

And so when the urge to hiss comes, you let it come and burst out of you, shocking Nemuri and Mic as soon as the harsh sound comes out of your mouth. Nemuri gapes at you, astounded. “You…did you just…you just hissed at me!” she gasps, shocked at your behavior.

You close your mouth and advert your eyes from hers, refusing to see the disappointment in them. “You know what?” she scoffs. “Fine. Go ahead and lie to yourself all you want, but when Aizawa finally discovers the truth and dumps you on your ass, don’t come crying to me about it later.”

And with those harsh words hanging in the air, she turns around and swiftly walks back towards the dorms, her glossy curls bouncing behind her.

“Nemuri!” Mic calls after her to no avail. She doesn’t turn around. She’s completely done with you and it makes you feel incredibly guilty.

Mic turns around to face you and sighs. “I hope you make the right choice, Y/N,” he softly says, a soft sadness in his eyes that makes you feel even more guilty.

Then, he too leaves you alone standing in the grass to softly cry.

#shouta aizawa #shoutaaa #smutty smut #my fic shit #my works #here kitty kitty #bnha smut #black coded reader #black fanfic writer #black writers #aizawa x black!reader #shouta aizawa x black!reader

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mostlycompetentwriter · 4 years ago

Text

Booster

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Han and Fem!Reader x Bang Chan

Warnings: language, explicit smut, cheating, indecent affairs, very rich Bang Chan who can be exceedingly arrogant, mentions of alcohol and smoking; aged up characters (especially Chan)

Word Count: 11K

Genre: Marriage AU; Romance AU; Indecent Proposal AU

Summary: You love your husband more than anything else in the world, but the two of you have been arguing lately about your struggling financial situation. Things seem bleak until one night when your husband’s new boss makes you both an offer that you can’t afford to refuse.

A/N: If you’ve seen the movie “Indecent Proposal,” then you know how this goes, but I put my own little spin on the classic! Please enjoy!!

“Are you happy, Y/N?”

It was a deceiving question, basic in its premise and expectation, but you couldn’t help but falter at the unexpected doubt coloring your vision.

“I guess,” you said.

But why shouldn’t you be? You were in your prime, employed as a freelance writer, and married to your high school sweetheart,

Oh, wait...How could you forget?

You were also preparing to turn thirty-years-old in less than a week, your job wasn’t delivering stable work, and you and your husband had been arguing about the single-digit amount of savings in your join account since last year.

“That’s good to hear,” your therapist said, and you nodded even though it felt misplaced.

You both knew that it was bullshit, but since this was the last session you could afford together, your therapist was clearly trying to use up the rest of your time to her advantage. Maybe it was for the best since you hated seeing her face every Sunday afternoon.

“Jisung and I are going to Vegas with his company,” you said, startling yourself with the unexpected confession.

“That’s interesting,” your therapist said, leaving the “considering how bad off the two of you are” to fill the empty silence. “I hope you have fun. Take some time to reconnect with him.”

Because surely she had heard enough of you complaining about how your husband could turn into the world’s biggest asshole sometimes when things weren’t going his way. Or when the easy parts of your personal life were feeling far too stressful to be considered healthy. “It’s nice to get away,” you decided to say in place of anything less amiable.

“Feel free to reach out if you ever need me,” your therapist continued, offering you her business card.

“Thanks,” you said, taking it from her with a sigh. “I guess that’s it then.”

“For now,” your therapist agreed, and you left the sterile-white building feeling more burdened than when you had arrived.

It was late when you got home, and you were even more exhausted than usual, laying next to Jisung in bed as soon as you had changed into comfortable night clothes.

“Do you want to fuck?” Jisung asked later on, taking off his reading glasses to look over at you as you concentrated hard on balancing next month’s budget, including all the money you had put aside for Jisung’s company retreat.

“Not right now,” you said.

“Whatever,” Jisung grumbled, and you ignored the pain in your heart as he turned around to face away from you, turning off his lamp to bathe half of the room in darkness.

“This is too important,” you tried to argue, but Jisung wasn’t listening, and it didn’t take long for him to start snoring.

But he never understood.

“Asshole,” you whispered, gathering your things to settle down in the living room instead. Where you continued working through the night, eyes glossing over from focusing on the numbers for too long, and you were drained the next morning, barely even comprehending Jisung leaving the house for work until you heard the car’s ignition from outside.

It was somewhat of a routine at this point, and you could feel the strain in your marriage, the distance between you and Jisung increasing the longer things continued to grow worse.

Your therapist would tell you to talk things out with him, but you really didn’t feel like arguing with your husband anymore. Instead, you pushed him out of your head and slept for a few more hours before getting up to start your freelance projects. It wasn’t anything difficult, and you finished most of the work by noon, leaving you to clean the house and wait by the phone in case a potential client called you with an assignment.

But the problem was the phone never rang, and you were hardly getting any work to support your shared household income.

It was a frequent point of contention, and Jisung had been begging you to take on a full-time position for months.

Maybe you should.

Maybe it would make him happier.

But why did it feel like his happiness was always prioritized over your own?

Damn, you were starting to sound just like your former therapist.

“I made dinner,” you told him when he got home that evening, and even though it was obvious that he was wore-out, Jisung met you in the kitchen with a forced smile.

“It smells good,” he said, and there was a longing in his eyes, one that you also shared but could never fulfill.

And no amount of sex ever made it any better, but that sure as hell didn’t stop the two of you from trying to use it as an excuse to pretend that the problem didn’t exist elsewhere. “Shit, Sungie,” you gasped, nails digging into the smooth skin of his back as he fucked you on top of the counter, legs spread wide around his waist as he pummeled his hips into yours.

“Yes!” Jisung moaned, eyes rolling into the back of his head as your tight walls constricted around his length - pure, velvet warmth. “God, you’re perfect.”

“Harder!” you cried, trying to meet each of his thrusts, but finding it impossible to touch his animalistic pace, brutally stretching your pussy around him. The good kind of stretch that left you gaping long after you both came, lingering throughout the night and well into the morning as you limped around the house.

It ached and hurt, persistent and demanding, but there was always a desire for more, even when it was impossible to fulfill those empty places. But that didn’t stop you from trying, winding your fingers through Jisung’s hair to pull him closer, smashing your mouths together for a brutal kiss that only served to stoke the flames of passion sparking between the two of you. Something hot and raunchy, delicious in the exchanges of precious oxygen and the thin cord of saliva that remained when Jisung pulled back to look at you. “You’re the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen,” he said, parting your thighs around his hips as he studied the place where he was driving his cock between the delicate folds of your swollen labia. “Look at how well you take me.”

“Please,” you whimpered, unsure as to what you wanted from him, but it was always too much and never enough.

“I want you to come first,” Jisung said, sucking the pad of his thumb into his mouth before bringing it down against your clit.

“Oh!” you gasped because the secondary stimulation was proving to be the necessary catalyst to unwind you from the inside, and you could feel your orgasm growing stronger by the second.

“That’s it, baby,” Jisung groaned, throwing back his head as he worked on moving his hips faster, thrusting his erection with as much power as he could manage while focusing on digging harsh circles against the tight little bud between your legs.

“Coming!” you cried, closing your eyes against the first wave of pleasure, moaning when Jisung lifted your legs higher around his waist, slamming his cock between your pulsating walls.

It was a divine high, the kind that left a deep impression, riding the euphoria of your orgasm until you could feel your heart practically vibrating against your chest, leaving you breathless and throbbing in the place where Jisung continued to grind his cock. “I’m close,” he said, grunting as his hips stuttered in place, and you watched him fall over you as a familiar warmth escaped from where his cock was softening.

“S’ good,” you managed around a deep breath, trying to bring yourself back to Earth.

“You’re always so good for me,” Jisung said, eyes glossy with lust as he parted your lips around his fingers.

You puckered your lips, sucking hard and leaving him groaning. “I’m glad you’re here with me.”

“I know, Y/N, and I love you,” Jisung said, holding himself up while panting over you, eyes dark and devoted.

“I love you too,” you replied on instinct, keeping him close while the two of you basked in the afterglow of your passionate lovemaking.

One Week Later

It was raining at the airport, but you were in a good mood while following Jisung through the crowded terminal. “Are you excited?” he asked you once you stood in line to board the plane.

“Of course,” you replied, accepting his gentle kiss before he held out your tickets for the flight attendant.

But why shouldn’t you be? You had never been to Vegas before, and you were beyond excited for the trip, even if it had been painful to budget with your lousy combined incomes.

“I’m gonna treat you so good, baby,” Jisung whispered to you on the plane, finalizing his promise with another heart-stopping kiss.

“I love you,” you said, smiling when you heard the words in return.

It was always a promise that you could both keep, no matter how hard things got in your lives, and you could always rely on Jisung even when your own mind turned against you. Sure, it would be nice to have more financial stability, but the two of you would eventually achieve that goal, just as long as you kept working hard.

The idea of being happy all the time seemed impossible, and you were grateful for what you had, holding tightly to Jisung’s hand as he hailed down a taxi cab to take you to your hotel upon your arrival in Vegas.

“A couple’s retreat?” the driver asked when you were both settled inside.

“Something like that,” Jisung agreed, and it was half-way true, even if Jisung’s company was the main reason you were both enjoying the unfamiliar sights of the Vegas strip - blinding lights, crowded streets, and loud music. Everything was organized chaos, and you could see why so many people loved it.

“It’s beautiful,” you said to Jisung when your taxi cab arrived at your hotel.

“What do you want to do first?” Jisung asked, taking both of your suitcases as you led the way to check-in.

“Do you have to meet with your co-workers?” you asked, reminding yourself that this trip had a larger reason behind it.

“Not until the morning,” Jisung laughed, and he signed the copy of the room notice before dragging you to the elevators. “It’s you and me tonight, baby. Wanna check out the poker tables?”

You rolled your eyes because you both knew that Jisung had no idea how to play cards. “Looking around sounds nice.”

“Whatever you want,” Jisung promised, and after your things were settled in your lavish suite, he made good on escorting you around the impressive gambling floor - nothing but slot machines with bright color sequences and a vast expanse of tables with every kind of game you could want.

It was almost too much to look at, and you were grateful to focus on one thing when Jisung paused next to the craps table. “Do you want to try?” you asked, smirking at the curious look in his eyes.

“Yeah,” he said, giving you a quick kiss before exchanging a twenty for some chips. “I’ll put it all on Pass.”

“Pass!” the dealer said, dragging Jisung’s chips closer. “Your roll.”

Jisung grabbed the dice from the table, bringing them closer to you with a smirk. “Kiss for good luck?”

You rolled your eyes, but entertained his request, brushing your lips against his knuckles before pulling back and watching him flick his wrist as the dice bounced across the table. “Seven!” the dealer announced, and you and Jisung were both surprised to win, watching as two piles of chips were pushed in your direction.

“Holy shit!” you gasped, and Jisung nodded his agreement, taking all the chips before bidding the dealer a good night. “Did you see that?” you asked, unable to stop yourself from giggling as Jisung pocketed the chips.

“I guess I have enough to treat you to a drink,” he said, and you followed him to the bar where he ordered you both something strong.

“Are you trying to get me drunk?” you asked him, feeling far more jubilant than before as you downed most of the contents, wincing at the sting.

“You need to loosen up,” Jisung said. “I know you’ve been planning for the trip, so I want you to enjoy yourself.”

“Cheers to that!” you said, tapping your glass against Jisung’s and enjoying the rest of your drink.

And for a while, you actually found yourself letting go of all the worries leading up to the vacation, drinking and laughing with your husband as you played on some of the slot machines and observed some of the more serious poker games.

The alcohol sat pleasantly on your stomach, and you were losing yourself to the buzz dulling most of your anxieties. “Jisung,” you said at one point, leaning closer to him as you sat together outside by the pool. “You look really good tonight.”

Jisung smiled, bringing you in for a kiss that turned heated despite the people surrounding you. “Slow down, baby,” Jisung said, breaking your exchange and ignoring your pout.

“Let’s go to the room,” you said, lowering your tone as you trailed one finger down his toned arm.

“Maybe later,” Jisung said, but he dangled the key in front of you. “If you want, then you can go upstairs.”

“You don’t want to come?” you asked with a pout.

“I’ve been watching,” Jisung admitted with a shrug. “I know we’ve been having a lot of problems with money, but I think I can take what we brought and turn it into enough to end most of our debt.”

“Jisung,” you said, sobering up in an instant. “What if you lose?”

“Don’t worry,” he said, and you could tell that he had already made up his mind. “I know when to stop.”

“Okay,” you agreed, but it was a reluctant acquiescence because you wanted nothing more than to have him in your arms. “I’ll see you later.”

“Have fun, baby,” Jisung said, and you frowned when he slid you his credit card. “Call room service and take care of yourself.”

“Sure,” you agreed, pocketing the card since you had no intention of using it. “Call me if you need anything.”

Jisung nodded, waving you off as he rose from his chair, and you watched with an overhanging sense of dread as he rejoined the crowded gambling room.

You waited for as long as you could, but midnight trickled by with no sign of your husband returning to the room.

Eventually, you must’ve fallen asleep from the excitement, and you only woke-up again the next morning when you attempted to reach out for Jisung in bed next to you, only to discover empty space.

“Sungie?” you said, filling the empty room with your voice.

But you could’ve sworn you had heard the door open at one point, so you dressed yourself and ventured out of the bedroom.

Your Vegas suite was fairly large, and the bedroom was connected to the main room by a narrow hallway with another room on the opposite end. Maybe Jisung had slept in the wrong room on accident?

It seemed plausible, until you heard the sound of someone moving around in the kitchen, and you quickly followed the noises to find your husband bent over the counter, head hanging low.

“Jisung, what’s wrong?” you asked, approaching your husband to soothe a hand down his back.

But you were completely unprepared for the way he began to lash out.

“I lost it, okay?” he snapped, jerking himself into an upright stance. “All the money we brought, I blew it on the slot machines.”

“Jisung-”

“Fuck, I can’t believe it!” Jisung shouted, interrupting your attempt to speak. “I was doing so well, and I didn’t even realize things were going bad until I almost used our bank card to pull out more money.”

You exhaled harshly, realizing that if Jisung had spent all of your money, then he also accessed some of your savings since you had brought extra cash in case of an emergency. “Oh my god.”

You stumbled back against the wall, holding your chest because you could feel the start of a panic attack taking root. But how else were you supposed to react to Jisung’s confession? He had spent all the money you would both need to pay rent and buy important necessities.

“This is so screwed up,” Jisung growled, rubbing a rough hand across his disheveled face.

“That was everything,” you said, swallowing hard as your detail-oriented brain attempted to come up with an alternative, but you saw no light on the other end.

“Y/N,” Jisung said, and his voice was calmer as he looked at you. “I’m so sorry. I thought I could make things better.”

“But you made them worse,” you said, closing your eyes against an onslaught of tears, feeling as if your entire world was crashing down around you.

“Baby, no,” Jisung said, hurrying over to catch you before your body crumbled to the floor. “We’ll be okay, you know? I can always take out a loan.”

“To pay for the other loans?” you asked in a much harsher tone that you usually reserved for your husband.

“I promise I’ll make it better,” Jisung said, and he groaned when his phone started ringing. “It’s my boss again. He wanted to meet me in his room this morning.”

Jisung silenced the call, holding your face between his hands. “I promise nothing bad will happen to us, and maybe I can ask my boss for an advance on my next paycheck to help cover expenses.”

Your brain knew better than that, understanding that one paycheck wouldn’t cover those lost savings, but this was Jisung. Your sweet and kind husband, and you didn’t feel like arguing. “Okay,” you said, accepting the gentle kisses he pecked along your wet lashes.

“We’ll figure this out,” Jisung said. “But let’s not worry about it until we get back home. Can you put some clothes on for me, baby? I want you to come meet my boss with me.”

“Yeah,” you said, nodding your head as you allowed Jisung to lead you both back into the bedroom.

“Everything will be fine,” Jisung said, and you allowed him to delude your mind even though nothing could be further from the truth.

Jisung’s boss was a powerful man named Mr. Bang, and his net-worth made Jeff Bezos and Elon Musk pale in comparison.

You were nervous to meet him, and it didn’t help that you were still upset from earlier.

“Deep breaths,” Jisung instructed you when he knocked on Mr. Bang’s door. “Don’t worry about anything.”

It was easy for him to say since everything was his fault, but you swallowed down your anger and pasted on your best smile when the door opened - revealing an older gentleman with dark brown hair and eyes, wrinkles edging some of the corners of his features, exposing the effects of age.

But he was still undeniably handsome, and his eyes took a long moment to gloss over you. “Mr. Han,” Mr. Bang said, finally looking away from you. “I’m glad you could make it.”

“Of course, sir,” Jisung said, placing his hand on your lower back as you were both invited inside. “It’s been a rough morning.”

“Oh?” Mr. Bang questioned, following you both into the main room. “Why is that?”

You held your breath when Jisung hesitated. “Just some money stuff.”

“Ah,” Mr. Bang acknowledged. “It’s personal.”

“It’s nothing to worry about,” Jisung insisted, and Mr. Bang shrugged off his coat as he accepted the reassurance, reaching for a pack of cigars.

“Well, I’m excited to talk with you this morning. Would you both like to join me in the other room? I heard that Jisung enjoys playing pool.”

“Absolutely,” Jisung agreed with a smile - one that managed to disguise all the horrible realities that existed outside of this impeccable suite.

You took another deep breath, fixing a smile in place when Mr. Bang turned to look at you. “This must be your wife.”

“Y/N,” you said, holding out your hand for him, and trying not to feel disconcerted by the obvious interest in his gaze.

“Y/N,” he repeated, looking back ahead of himself as he brought you both into a far simpler room - sparsely furnished with the exception of the pool table in the middle of the area. “Do either of you mind if I smoke? It’s a bad habit.”

He chuckled at the end, waiting for your combined approval before lighting one of the cigars and bringing it to his lips.

“You’re welcome to go first,” Mr. Bang said, selecting one of the pool sticks against the wall. “I’d love to be informal with you.”

“That sounds great,” Jisung said, and you watched him bend over the table as he broke the balls at the center, sending them flying in all directions. “I was really honored to receive your invitation.”

“Were you?” Mr. Bang asked with a smile. “I’m glad to hear that.”

“You’re a bit of an enigma around the office, Mr. Bang,” Jisung said, and his boss chuckled in response.

“Please, call me Chan,” he continued, taking his turn at the table after Jisung missed his shot, cigar dangling from his lips. “How are you both enjoying Vegas?”

“I think we’re having a lot of fun,” Jisung said, and the response irritated you a little as you cleared your throat, nose wrinkling as some of the cigar smoke reached you.

“It’s quite beautiful,” you said, and Chan found your eyes after landing his first shot.

“Yes, it is,” he agreed. “You know, Jisung, you talk about me being an enigma around the office. Why is that?”

You flinched at the sound of the balls smashing together, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you focused on your husband. “Well,” Jisung shrugged. “I think it’s because you have so much more than the rest of us. Not that it’s a bad thing.”

“Really?” Chan asked, standing up straight as he shot you a knowing look. “You do have something that I don’t have.”

You found yourself blushing at the comment, and Jisung studied his boss with narrowed eyes. “I guess there’s a limit to what money can buy.”

“Not mine,” Chan said, putting out the cigar with a satisfied smirk. “I can afford anything.”

You didn’t like his attitude, finding yourself jumping into the conversation without being provoked. “Some things aren’t for sale,” you said, watching as Chan bent over the pool table once again.

“Like what?” he asked.

“Well, you can’t buy people,” you said, and he stood tall again with a sigh.

“That’s naïve of you, Y/N,” he said. “I buy people everyday.”

“I don’t mean in business,” you argued. “I meant something more like...when your emotions are involved.”

“So, you can’t buy someone’s love?” Chan questioned, and you didn’t like the way he was laughing. “Jisung, I hope you don’t feel the same way.”

“Of course,” Jisung said, shaking his head. “I agree with Y/N.”

“Really?” Chan smiled. “Then, maybe we should put that to the test.”

“What do you mean?” Jisung asked, and he exchanged a quick look with you - one filled with uncertainty.

“How much?” Mr. Bang asked.

“How much?” Jisung repeated, and he studied his boss with a confused expression. “What do you mean?”

Mr. Bang chuckled, and you frowned at the obvious condescension. “I mean, how much for one night with your wife?”

“Oh...” Jisung trailed off, and the room quickly filled with silence - awkward and heavy.

“Why so tense?” Chan eventually asked, and you shook your head because he knew exactly why the two of you were suddenly less than enthusiastic.

“You can’t be serious,” Jisung eventually said, reaction surprisingly neutral.

“I’m completely serious,” Chan continued, never breaking a sweat as he continued to take his turn at the pool table. “I’ll give you $1,000,000 dollars,” Chan said. “That would be enough to keep you in a life of luxury.”

“Sir,” Jisung said, and you could tell that he was caught off-guard, trying to find the right words to prevent offense to his boss, but you didn’t have to extend the same courtesy.

“No,” you said, keeping your tone firm. “He would tell you to go to hell.”

“I didn’t hear that from him,” Chan said, and you fixed Jisung with the sternest glare you could manage.

“Yeah,” Jisung said. “I’d tell you to go to hell.”

Chan sighed, pocketing the coveted eight ball with a quick motion. “I guess that proves me wrong, then,” Chan said. “But I’ll at least say this: $1,000,000 dollars is a lifetime of security. Think about it, talk it over first, and then you can forget all about this conversation.”

It should’ve been over after that without any further consideration, but you were disappointed to see that Jisung was still distracted as you sat together in your room later that night - long after leaving Chan’s suite.

“You’re still thinking about it,” you said, drawing his attention.

“Of course not, baby,” he said, but it wasn’t convincing.

“Would you seriously be okay with me spending the night with some pompous billionaire? you huffed. “He would obviously want to fuck me.”

“Well, I can’t say I blame him,” Jisung tried to joke, but the situation was far too serious.

“Sungie...”

“Look, I get it, Y/N. Marriage is sacred, and I respect you for that, but we both can’t ignore how much this would change our lives! It’s a million fucking dollars.”

“He’s an old perv,” you growled. “Would you seriously sell me out?”

“That’s not what this is,” Jisung argued. “I’m not selling you out.”

“Sleeping with a stranger for a million dollars is selling me out,” you said. “I don’t even like him...”

“It’s fine,” Jisung interrupted. “It was just a made-up scenario, and I would never force you to do anything.”

“Good,” you said, turning on your side to switch off the lamp. “He can’t just expect that from someone. It’s crazy!”

“I know, baby,” Jisung whispered quietly to you, and you knew that you were both exhausted from the chaos of your day together.

Sleep was what you needed, but it wasn’t coming.

Instead, you were loathe to admit that your mind had returned to that indecent proposal from Jisung’s boss, thinking about the last thing he said.

One lifetime of security.

You would never have to worry about money again...but what about your relationship? Would it suffer because of such an illicit affair?

You tossed and turned all night, feeling Jisung do the same thing.

Think about it.

God, that’s all you were doing, and when the sun was starting to rise again from the coverage of your blinds, you rolled over to look at Jisung, unsurprised to see him wide-awake. “If we do this,” you said, “it wouldn’t mean anything.”

“Of course not,” Jisung said. “It would still be the two of us against the rest of the world.”

You nodded, studying the gentle brown of Jisung’s eyes. The weight of such a consequential decision hung over both of your heads, and you sucked up every last ounce of pride you had when you came to a conclusion: “Call him,” you said, and Jisung’s eyes widened. “Tell him we’ll take the money.”

“Y/N, are you sure?” Jisung asked, and he was cautiously reaching out for his cellphone.

“I’m sure,” you said, although you didn’t feel as confident as you would like, turning onto your back to study the ceiling overhead.

The date and time were arranged for the following evening, and you could barely meet Chan’s gaze when he met you outside his suite.

“Just relax,” he whispered to you, inviting you outside onto the extended balcony attached to his penthouse where he proceeded to pour two glasses of champagne.

The cold air of the night hit you in the face like a firm slap, forcing you from the haze you had surrendered to when you first walked into the room. A wake-up call that this was happening, and the man next to you was not your husband.

You nearly drained your first glass of champagne, feeling the alcohol give you some much-needed courage. “Y/N,” Chan said, standing next to you in a suit that likely cost more than your and Jisung’s last paychecks combined. “I want to ask you what your expectations are of this evening.”

You shrugged, staring out over the bannister. “I thought we were just gonna fuck,” you replied, even if the words were a little crude.

Chan laughed at your comment. “Is that so?”

“I don’t see what’s funny,” you said. “You’re the one who has to buy women.”

“You think I have to buy women?” Chan asked. “Because that couldn’t be further from the truth.”

You hesitated, sensing him growing closer. “Why me, then?”

“I bought you because you said you couldn’t be bought,” Chan replied, stepping closer to drop his hand on top of yours.

“I can’t be bought,” you argued, even though everything leading up to this moment was proving the contrary.

“Really?” he asked, and you begrudgingly shook your head.

“I don’t know why I’m doing this.”

“You might enjoy yourself,” Chan said with a seductive smirk. “This isn’t meant to be a punishment.”

“I know that,” you said, holding your breath when his lips touched the shell of your ear.

“Damn, you’re unbelievably gorgeous,” Chan said, and his free hand was trailing down your spine. “Come with me into the bedroom.”

You gave him a shaky nod, following him back inside while taking in several deep breaths as you greeted the darkness of the room, discarding your champagne on the side table. “What now?”

“Take off your dress,” Chan said, and you squinted your eyes to see him falling down into one of the chairs.

Despite the cold air of the night, everything inside was heating up again.

“Okay,” you whispered, reaching back for your zipper, and holding it between trembling fingers as you unhitched the material, allowing it to fall down your body like an avalanche of blue as it pooled around your ankles.

You heard Chan’s sharp intake of breath, feeling his eyes trail over every inch of your lingerie-clad form. “Get on the bed,” he said, and you obeyed at once, trying to make yourself comfortable on top of the mattress.

But it was hard when you noticed Chan approaching the bedside, removing his jacket and shirt to reveal a lean, muscular torso - one that had undoubtedly been built after long hours in the gym. “This is my favorite part,” Chan said, shoving down his jeans and boxers without shame, and his cock sprang up against his abdomen with an impressive girth. “I like to see the way a woman’s eyes look at me. How their breath hitches when I touch them for the first time.”

He followed through on his promise, sliding his fingers down the smooth skin of your stomach with a feather-like touch before they paused at the waistband of your panties. “Take these off,” he said, and you did your best to wrangle off the flimsy fabric, pushing it aside with your toes as Chan’s eyes zeroed in on your delicate mound. “When I fuck a woman, I make sure she comes...several times.”

You shivered at that, hearing his tone grow huskier as he instructed you to open your thighs, giving himself enough room to crawl on the bed and settle down between your open legs. It was already so revealing, and you couldn’t believe you were in this position, exposing everything to him. “Do you use protection?” he asked, and you nodded. “I’d like to fuck you raw, but only with your consent.”

You nodded again, gasping when his long, thin fingers started to carefully penetrate you, scissoring around your entrance - teasing curls that did nothing but trigger your body’s instinctual arousal. Especially as the room around you continued to grow warmer, almost as hot as Chan’s lips as they scalded your skin, lifting one of your legs higher against his arm.

“You deserve to be worshipped,” Chan whispered against your thigh. “If I had a woman like you, I’d do my best to make you happy.”

“Fuck,” you couldn’t help but curse, feeling him use his other hand to start moving his fingers even faster, gliding them against the greedy walls of your pussy as your body demanded you for more of the sweet addiction.

There was already a light sheen of sweat forming on your skin, and your heart was beating faster and faster, matching the pace of his fingers. Eventually, he leaned down to take your clit between his lips, dropping your thigh back onto the mattress before sucking hard and swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud.

You gasped, hips arching without your approval, grinding closer to the source of that immeasurable pleasure. It was wet and sensual, creating the gentlest of sensations that traveled all the way to your toes.

You could feel Chan smirking, lips barely touching your clit before he properly opened his mouth wide to lave his tongue across the throbbing area. It felt so good, and you were practically humping his face to gain more of his delicious mouth.

He was learning your signs, hands holding your waist as he listened to every hitch of your breath, knowing when to speed up and slow down. It was like a well-rehearsed dance, swipes of his tongue across your folds, pressing firmly against your clit when he returned to the delicate organ.

It felt like pure heaven, bringing you higher and higher to a much-needed release, and it had been a long time since a man had made you experience such white hot lust from just his tongue.

“Cum for me,” Chan whispered, and he nipped at your clit, and the tinge of pain was enough to send you spiraling into your first orgasm of the night.

“Oh!” you groaned, grabbing his hair to pull him back when his sucking was starting to feel too painful right after coming so hard.

“What a good girl,” Chan said, looking down at you with a sheen of arousal coating his lips.

It was obscene, forcing you to close your eyes against the image, but you cried out when he pinched one of your nipples, causing you to open them again.

“Do me a favor and look at me while I’m fucking you, Y/N,” Chan murmured, hooded gaze meeting your struggling one - trying not to succumb to his advances, even though he was making it incredibly hard, wrist almost imperceptible with the way he was stretching you open again, pussy gaping as you felt yourself leaking uncontrollably.

“I’ll try,” you whispered, heart thundering against your chest as Chan removed his fingers only to align his cock with your entrance, dipping just the tip into your eager heat.

“Moan for me as much as you want,” Chan said, and he was bottoming out without hesitation, moving slow to prevent any pain while you got used to the stretch.

It was different from how Jisung fucked you, thrusting into you impossibly fast from the very first moment he impaled you on his cock.

There was something caring about it, and you adjusted quickly to Chan’s girth, grinding your hips subtly just to feel very inch of his generous erection. “Good girl,” Chan cooed, and he brought his cock to a deeper roll, moving back to leave only the head before forcing himself inside once again, picking up speed as your moans continued to grow louder in volume, signaling your approach to a second release.

It was beyond amazing, and you swallowed down your embarrassment from the noises he was punching from your lungs, opening your eyes as he started to move even faster, thrusting his cock between your legs at a rhythmic pace.

He was hitting your g-spot on every deep penetration, granulating in and out at a steady pace that was so unbelievably fulfilling.

You never expected it feel this good, slick from your pussy gushing at an embarrassing rate, creating an even smoother slide. But the squelching sounds were incredibly loud, filling your ears just like his cock was filling your cunt...the best kind of fullness.

You were being stroked just right, moaning when Chan shifted his hips to thrust into you at a new angle, holding your legs over his shoulders as he practically bent you in half.

His lips were warm when they connected with yours, and there was a strange desire to sink into the kiss and lose yourself there forever. But your pussy was throbbing with need - an impossible want for the man reaching all the way to your cervix.

It felt amazing when his fingers brushed across your sensitive clit, rubbing generous circles against the tight nub. He started snapping his hips at a faster rate, slapping against your hips with every thrust, holding onto your hips with a bruising grip that would leave reminders of him for days.

But maybe that was his intention.

Chan growled, plunging into your sore cunt time and time again. He was practically pounding you with how hard he was going, like he was trying to prove a point, and maybe he wanted to since nothing could have ever prepared you for how euphoric his cock was making you feel.

“Are you gonna cum again?” Chan whispered, gazing so fondly into your eyes.

You couldn’t speak, only managing a nod when he started to rub even faster at your clit, and you let out the loudest moan of the night when you were unraveling yet again, sinking into a third orgasm that left you drained.

It was a rollercoaster of overstimulation, and Chan realized this and gave a few stuttered kicks of his hips before he was filling you up with his cum, groaning and grunting as he leaned over you.

Your legs were numb from being spread wide for so long, and you weren’t sure that you would ever catch your breath, listening to the sound of Chan whispering sweet endearments from next to you as you realized that nothing would ever be same after this.

The next morning, you woke-up alone, but there was a note waiting for you on the nightstand.

Y/N,

Join us in the kitchen when you’re ready.

- Chan

“Us?” you repeated aloud, feeling a sense of dread as you stumbled on weak legs to gather your clothes.

You were incredibly sore between your legs, a reminder that last night actually happened, and you had slept with your husband’s boss for a big paycheck.

“It’s worth it,” you tried to reassure yourself, walking from the bedroom and into the kitchen with a subtle limp. “Nothing will change.”

But hindsight is 20/20, and you can’t predict the future. Still, your first sign should’ve been the strange image of Chan and Jisung sitting together in the kitchen, like they were having a casual breakfast together,

“There you are!” Chan greeted you upon your arrival, but you barely paid him any attention, eyes immediately finding Jisung’s.

Your husband was sitting next to Chan at the table, and there was a buffet of food displayed on elegant kitchenware. “What’s going on?”

“Breakfast,” Chan said, indicating towards the empty chair next to Jisung. “Please join us.”

You nodded, finally breaking your intense stare-down with Jisung to carefully sit down next to him.

Suddenly, it was difficult to acknowledge his presence, memories of last night resurfacing and causing you to blush at the obscene images. “I hope you slept well,” Chan said, and his plate was completely covered as he ate without a single care in the world. “Last night...it was amazing, Y/N.”

You could feel Jisung shift from next to you, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to look at him. “Chan-”

“As promised,” Chan interrupted as he reached into the pocket of his expensive suite jacket, producing a thin slip of paper, and he slid the check in Jisung’s direction. “Thank you both for everything.”

“Sure,” Jisung said, and his tone was short as he grabbed the check and immediately stood from the table. “We should get going.”

“So soon?” Chan questioned, mouth stuffed impossibly full. “You’re more than welcome to anything you want.”

“We’re fine,” Jisung insisted, and he took your hand with a firm grip. “I know you’ll understand, Mr. Bang.”

“Ah!” Chan grinned. “Formalities again?”

But Jisung ignored him, turning to look at you with a gleam in his eyes that you couldn’t decipher. “Let’s go home,” Jisung said, and he tried for a smile which you couldn’t match as he led the two of you as far from Bang Chan as you could manage.

Tragically, your return home was nothing triumphant, and it should’ve felt so good to finally pay off so many bills and debts.

But it didn’t.

Everything felt hollow inside.

You also couldn’t help but notice that it was becoming increasingly difficult to talk to Jisung. Because every time you looked into his eyes, you were reminded of your impassioned affair in Vegas. It wasn’t fair to either of you, but you had no idea how to fix your relationship.

How could this be fair? You no longer had money problems forcing that divide between the two of you? In fact, you had no problems at all, and you were both entertaining the idea of moving into a bigger place and quitting your jobs.

So, what was missing? What was wrong with the way things were now that your joint account was filled to the maximum?

The answer was obvious, but you both refused to talk about it, and every second spent in each other’s company only served to carve an even deeper rift. Something so painful that you could barely share the same bed as your husband.

You couldn’t believe that things were so bad, even a month after your night with Chan, and nothing was going right. But what could you do? There was no easy solution, and it certainly didn’t help when you received a phone call from an unknown number one morning, accepting it with hesitation, only to be greeted with a strikingly familiar tone: “Hello, Y/N,” Chan said from the other end, and you immediately sat down on the edge of your bed.

“Chan?”

“How are you?” Chan asked with a pleasant tone. “I thought I might check in on my favorite couple.”

You frowned at his mocking tone. “Thanks, but we’re fine.”

“I’m glad to hear that! And I hope the money goes a long way for you and Jisung,” Chan said, and you clenched the phone tighter between your hands.

“It’s been helpful,” you said, even though the words didn’t seem to match the life you were currently living.

“Well, I’m in town for lunch this afternoon,” Chan continued. “I thought it might be nice just to catch up with you. Would you care to join me?”

You hesitated, looking around your empty bedroom with desperate eyes. “I don’t know if that’s the best idea...”

“Oh, please it’s just one lunch,” Chan said, and it was almost impossible to resist him. But that must be why he was such a good businessman. “One lunch.”

You sighed, already feeling yourself giving in to him. “One lunch,” you agreed, parroting back the response because it felt like your body was moving on auto-pilot, having lost the familiar spark ever since you came back from Vegas.

Chan’s chosen location was a gorgeous downtown restaurant that had more Michelin stars than the places you sometimes watched on TV.

It was beyond elegant, and you found Chan waiting for you at the door after having a car bring you to him. “Good morning,” he said with a cheeky tone, meeting you halfway as he offered his arm to you - the perfect gentleman.

“This was unexpected,” you said, allowing him to escort you inside, greeting the man at the front who seemed to instantly recognize Chan, leading you both to a private room away from the others.

“I wanted to do this,” Chan said. “I thought we could talk a little.”

“Is that it?” you asked, taking the menu and gaping at the immense prices.

Chan seemed to notice, smiling at your awed expression. “Have anything you want,” Chan said. “I’m buying.”

“Oh, I can’t possibly let you do that...” you said because then it would feel like a date, and that was as far from what you wanted as possible.

“Don’t concern yourself,” Chan said. “Everything is good here, and you deserve it.”

You weren’t sure that you liked the sound of that, but you didn’t complain as you requested that he order something for both of you instead of trying to interpret the gauche-sounding entrees.

“Now,” Chan said once your waiter left the room. “Let’s talk about you.”

“Me?” you questioned, sipping gingerly at your water glass. “What about me?”

“I want to know everything,” Chan said. “All of it.”

“Everything?” you repeated, shrugging as you blushed. “There’s not much to tell.”

“I can hardly believe that,” Chan said. “What about your job?”

“I’m a freelance writer,” you said, nodding when you realized that he was genuine. “Kinda hard in the city though.”

“But you’re doing what you love?” Chan asked, and he grinned at your confirmation. “Then that’s all that matters.”

Could it be so simple? you wondered, remembering all the countless arguments you and Jisung had shared because, according to him, your job was hardly considered career-worthy. “I love writing.”

“Then you must be a big reader,” Chan remarked. “All the best writers are.”

You swooned at his smooth conversation. “I have shelves full of the classics.”

“What’s your favorite?” Chan asked.

“Jane Eyre,” you admitted, and Chan raised a brow.

“I like that about you,” he said. “It fits: the idea of a bright young woman falling in love with the enigmatic billionaire.”

You met his gaze, recalling how Jisung had aligned the term “enigmatic” with Chan on the night you made your unholy deal. Was there a deeper meaning, then? “I love the prose,” you replied instead, thinking the subject might return to Chan.

But it never did. In fact, Chan kept all the questions about you, engaging you in a way that you had never experienced with another man. Like he cared so much about the person underneath, and his probing gaze was seeing past the outside in a way that spoke to your very soul.

And you couldn’t help but compare him to Jisung: a very dangerous thing to do.

“That was nice,” you said after you had both eaten. “It was good to see you again.”

“I agree,” Chan said, ever the businessman as his hand fell low around your waist, taking you back outside the restaurant. “Should we make plans for tomorrow?”

You almost laughed, until you read his expression and realized that he was serious. “What?”

“Y/N,” Chan said, and his tone was intense. “I can’t stop thinking about Vegas.”

“Chan,” you whined, trying to pull away, but his hold was firm.

“If you were with me,” Chan purred, and it was a lethal sound that was as smooth as the hand traveling up and down your back. “I could give you everything you wanted and more.”

“I can’t,” you insisted, and there was an image of Jisung in your head when you managed to escape him. “That was only one time.”

“I think you and I both know that it meant more than that,” Chan said, and you could deny it all you wanted, but there was an insistent throbbing at the back of your skull.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you lied, ignoring the scoff that escaped him while calling for the valet to bring the car Chan had organized for you.

“At least take my business card,” Chan said, and he was holding the small piece of printed paper out for you, but you knew that going down that path would only make things worse.

“I can’t accept it,” you said, returning your attention to the valet as he opened the back door.

“That’s a shame,” Chan said, but he was as persistent as ever, leaning close to press a kiss across your cheek. “You can always call me. If you ever need anything.”

You nodded, feeling somewhat disoriented as you sat down against the leather seat, swallowing hard when you could still see Chan from the rearview mirror.

By the time you returned home, it was already late, and you were glad to see Jisung when you sat your purse down onto the counter. “Hey,” you said, and Jisung glanced up from where he was reading the newspaper.

“Hey,” he replied. “How was lunch?”

You swallowed hard because you hadn’t told Jisung who you ate lunch with. “It was good.”

He nodded - a short dismissal, and it you decided to freshen up in the bathroom, taking a quick shower just to wash off the lingering traces of Chan.

But maybe it was foolish to think that water could wash away everything that had happened - those traces would never simply vanish.

When you walked back out into the main room, you were stunned to see Jisung putting on his coat. “Jisung,” you said, watching your husband rush around the living room. “Are you busy?”

“Just gong to meet some friends,” Jisung replied.

Distracted. Uninterested in you.

“Oh,” you said. “I thought we could spend some time together?”

“Yeah?” Jisung snorted, and you were shocked to hear him sound so abrasive...at least until he marched up to you waving around a business card. “And what the fuck is this, huh? I found it in your bag.”

He flung the card at you, and you sighed when you saw Chan’s name at the top - he must’ve snuck the card into your purse when you weren’t looking. “It’s nothing,” you said, but Jisung only laughed - a sound devoid of all humor. “Why the fuck are you going through my things?”

“Does it matter?” he huffed. “You can’t get enough of him, can you?” he asked, and you were like a tea kettle that had been sitting on the burner for way too long - practically erupting from the top.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“What do you think?” Jisung smarted back. “You’re obviously still seeing him, spreading your legs for his cock like a bitch in heat. I guess one night wasn’t enough for you.”

“How dare you!” you yelled, getting right in Jisung’s face. “You want to know what happened? He slipped the card into my purse when I met him for lunch today, but I had never even spoken to him until then.”

“You expect me to believe that?” Jisung spat, narrowing his eyes. “You’re a fucking whore, Y/N. Throwing yourself at a rich man like Bang Chan just because he can buy you nice stuff.”

“What’s money got to do with anything?”

“It obviously means everything!” Jisung shouted. “It’s what got us into this fucking mess into the first place.”

“You mean, the mess you made when you gambled all our money away?”

“Are you really going to throw that back in my face?” Jisung seethed. “I was trying to make things better for us!”

“Good job,” you snickered. “Since we’re so fucking happy together.”

“What do you want from me?” Jisung asked, throwing up his arms. “I’m obviously the biggest asshole in the world.”

“I’m glad you can admit it,” you said. “Did you ever stop to think that all that I’ve done up to this point has been for you?”

Jisung paused, opening his mouth to retaliate, but then wisely deciding to let you continue. “Did I want to go to Vegas?” you asked. “No, but I went because you wanted to impress your company, and I know you wanted to do things right, but we should’ve both known better than to bet against the house. We lost everything, and in that moment of desperation, you pressured me into sleeping with another man, and I can’t think about anything else but him whenever I look at you.”

Jisung was stunned at the admission, all traces of anger gone from his expression. “Y/N,” he said. “I had no idea.”

“Yeah?” you said, voice quivering as you wiped away your tears. “Well, now you do.”

Jisung bowed his head, and you decided that you were done waiting for something to change, marching into your bedroom to grab your phone and dialing the first number you remembered.

“Chan,” you whispered when he greeted you on the other end. “Can I come over?”

There was only a split second of silence before Chan’s voice was soothing the raging storm inside of you. “I’ll send a car.”

It was almost midnight when your driver pulled up outside of a lavish home in the suburbs: huge, towering columns and Greco-Roman architecture making the place seem more like a mausoleum.

But it wasn’t the home itself that brought you comfort; rather, the people living within it who always made things seem safe and welcoming, and Chan was sure to greet you at the door, opening his arms wide to accept your embrace. “Was it a bad fight?” he asked, and you nodded while wondering how he could’ve possibly picked up on the fact that you and Jisung had been arguing again.

Maybe he just had good intuition when it came to you, and you appreciated the understanding, allowing him to bring you into an enormous den, settling you against the couch next to him while a fire blazed in the background. “I made tea,” Chan said, reaching for the two cups waiting on the ornamental table filling the empty space at the center of the room.

“Thanks,” you said, finding your eyes drawn to the neat stack of papers that had been sitting next to the cups.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Chan asked, relaxing one arm around your shoulders, bringing you against his much-needed warmth.

“We just don’t get along anymore,” you said. “I thought having money would fix things, but everything is worse.”

“Really?” Chan asked, and he seemed to consider your words. “It might seem like a good thing, and from the standpoint of a businessman, money is a very powerful motivator.” He smiled, looking down at you with eyes glowing from the flames. “But money isn’t the solution when it comes to the people you love.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, but you had also started picking up on that yourself. “Were you busy with something?”

Chan followed your gaze, reaching out for the papers that had drawn your attention from the very first moment you sat down. “These?” Chan chuckled, and he slid them to the edge, allowing you to read the fine print across the cover. “Divorces are complicated, aren’t they?” Chan asked, and you hesitated when you realized what he was implying. “But if you have enough money, then anything is possible.”

“Chan...” you trailed off, vision blurring at the edges and making the letters bleed together - a cacophony of meaningless jargon. “What are you trying to say?”

“You’re unhappy,” Chan said, and it was an observation that wasn’t difficult to make after all that had happened. “I guess I just don’t want you to be associated with the person causing that unhappiness.”

“You want me to leave Jisung?” you said, breathing in and out because it wasn’t a simple decision that one could make on the spot - not after years of living with someone who had become a central part of your existence.

It was too much to bear, and Chan’s presence was almost suffocating, breaths heavy against the side of your neck as he whispered in your ear. “Why should you stay with him? With or without money, he can’t seem to make you smile.”

You trembled at his closeness, choking around a sob even though the atmosphere between the two of you was suddenly charged with something electric. “And then what?”

“Well, after Jisung signs them,” Chan said, and his tongue traced the lobe of your ear. “I’d love to have you for myself.”

“O-oh,” you stuttered, closing your eyes as he took you into his arms, doing nothing more than holding you, but the feelings bubbling below the surface of your skin told you more than actions or words ever could.

The next morning, Chan had his driver take you back to the apartment you shared with Jisung.

The apartment was strangely quiet, and you left the divorce papers on the table in the kitchen while you went to shower, wanting nothing more than the scalding water to provide a temporary numbness to the confusion you felt in every fiber of your being.

It was a much-needed reprieve, and when you walked back into the kitchen, you were surprised to see your husband at the table, eyes downcast. “Come sit with me, Y/N.”

You swallowed hard when you realized he was searching through the divorce papers, but you weren’t met with his anger; instead, Jisung just seemed really sad, and that was much worse. “You weren’t supposed to see that,” you said, but your husband just smiled and shook his head.

“I knew you wouldn’t come back home for nothing,” he said, sliding out the chair next to him as an invitation. “Why should you? I treated you like shit the other night.”

“We both said some really cruel things,” you said, joining him with a sigh. “Things spiraled out of control.”

“I can see that,” Jisung said, tapping his fingers against the papers. “Let’s talk about what happened.”

You shivered at the thought. “I don’t think we should-”

“No,” Jisung interrupted, but it was a gentle chide. “It’s important, so hear me out.”

It would be so hard, but you still agreed. “Okay.”

“The whole mistake in Vegas wasn’t the money,” Jisung said. “No, money might’ve caused our problems, but the mistake wasn’t wanting something to make our lives better. The real mistake was me thinking that I could just forget about it after we left. That I could easily forgive us both...What’s that old saying? What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas?” Jisung laughed, but it was bitter sounding. “Bullshit, right?”

“Yeah,” you agreed. “Bullshit.”

Jisung smiled. “People in love stay with each other, not because they try to forget the wrong parts, but because they’re capable of forgiving the bad. And I couldn’t do that because I thought you would want Chan after that night...that you would be right to want him. He’s so much better in every way, the better man for someone wonderful like you. But by the time I realized that it wasn’t true, that he was only better because he had more money, everything had spiraled.”

He was quiet after his confession, struggling to hold back his tears as he clicked open one of our pens and brought the papers closer. “If you really want the divorce, then I’ll give it to you,” Jisung said. “I just want you to be happy.”

Why should you stay with him? With or without money, he can’t seem to make you smile.

“Jisung...” you trailed off, unsure if there was anything you could do to change the look in his eyes.

“I’ll always love you,” Jisung said, and it was the same promise as always, but you watched with a heavy heart as he signed his name in cursive as the bottom of the form.

The divorce papers felt like an added weight in your bag as you marched into the office building of SKZ Enterprises.

It was ridiculous, really. They were just papers, made in a factory and mass-produced to be sold in stores.

But it was the symbolism they carried, the significance of Jisung’s name scribbled at the bottom of the final page that had you faltering.

Your heart was hurting, and you forced a smile when you greeted Chan’s secretary at the corner next to his big, corporate office. “I’m here to see, Mr. Bang,” you told the secretary. “Tell him my name is Y/N.”

“Of course,” she said, and you watched her disappear into the office, giving you a few critical moments to collect your thoughts.

Until you heard his voice again:

“Y/N?”

You startled at the sound of Chan’s voice, seeing him standing in front of you with a million-dollar smile on his weathered face. “Come inside?”

“Yes,” you agreed, following him into the office with the door shutting firmly behind you.

“This is a pleasant surprise,” Chan said, grabbing you hand and pressing a kiss to your lips. “Is something wrong?”

“We need to talk,” you said, and Chan’s smile disappeared.

“That doesn’t sound good,” he said, chuckling as he invited you to sit down in one of the expensive chairs next to his desk. “Do you need anything? I can call for some tea.”

“No,” you said, deciding it was better to get straight to the point as you reached into your bag to bring out the divorce papers stapled together.

“This could either be good or bad,” Chan remarked, accepting them from you and quickly turning to the last page, expression falling. “I see.”

“I can’t sign them,” you said, and there was something powerful in your tone that had even Chan admitting defeat.

“Damn,” Chan sighed, eyes boring a hole into the pages. “This is the worst news I’ve gotten.”

“I talked to Jisung,” you explained. “Just looking at him and entertaining the idea of leaving forever...I couldn’t do it.”

Chan finally tore his gaze from the papers, meeting yours with disappointment. “I take it he said something to change your mind.”

“I don’t know if he changed my mind,” you admitted. “Rather, I think his love and forgiveness made me see reason with what I was doing.”

“Ah,” Chan said. “I think we’ve come full circle, Y/N.”

“What do you mean?”

“When you told me that all the money in the world couldn’t buy your love,” Chan said, and there was something that resembled respect reflected in his eyes. “You were right all along.”

You ducked your head, unable to maintain such intensity. “I’d like to give you that money back, Mr. Bang. My husband and I can manage on our own.”

“Oh, please, I’d be insulted if you did that,” Chan said, and he held out his hand for you to shake. “You know I’m a good businessman, so consider this an opportune long-term investment in something I’m supporting.”

You were full of gratitude, swallowing back tears as you nodded. “Thank you.”

“”There’s no need for that,” he said. “I’ll always be here for you.” The sentiment was matched by the gentle brushing of his lips across your cheek, and you could feel the last reminder of Chan even after leaving his office for the first and final time.

You were carrying takeout up the stairs, feeling lighter on your feet than you had in months.

The weight of your burdensome worries was gone, and you knocked with a little too much enthusiasm on the front door to your apartment.

“Y/N?” Jisung questioned, and there was an obvious look of surprise on his face when he opened the door. “What are you doing here?”

“I live here,” you reminded him with a cheeky smile. “I brought food.”

Jisung’s eyes moved to the bag in your hand, nodding once before allowing you inside. “I thought you were going to see Chan.”

“I did,” you said, leading him into the kitchen. “There were some things to discuss.”

“I see,” Jisung said, watching you with a wary expression as you presented him with his favorite Italian special.

The suspense was killing you, and you desperately wanted to see the frown leave his lips. “I didn’t sign the papers,” you said, sitting down at the table with a wearied sigh. “I couldn’t.”

“Really?” Jisung asked, clearing his throat at the hitch in his voice, but you were just trying to hide your smile at his boyish charms.

“Have I told you that I love you recently?” you asked, looking at him with way too much fondness.

Jisung paused, chopsticks poised in hand. “You do?”

“Always,” you affirmed, and you were unprepared for the first of Jisung’s tears to fall, endearing him even more to you if that was possible. “I’m happiest with you,” you told him, reaching out to wipe away those rebellious tears.

“I’ve always felt that way,” Jisung said, getting himself back under control as he pushed away his food and patted his lap. “Come here.”

You were more than happy to oblige, climbing into his lap to wrap your arms around his neck, playing with the ends of his hair while searing your lips together in a kiss that promised so much more from the one true love of your life.

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ava-candide · 4 years ago

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Poldark’s Aidan Turner on playing Leonardo da Vinci

The newly married heart-throb actor learnt to paint left-handed for his new role, and he’s still daubing now, he tells Ed Potton

Aidan Turner takes on the role of Renaissance polymath Leonardo

I’m trying to work out where Aidan Turner is Zooming from. Is it London, where he moved to in 2017 after his Ross Poldark became the drooled-over king of Sunday-night television? Dublin, where he grew up, trained as an actor and returned to spend the first lockdown with his parents? Or Rome, where he shot his new series, Leonardo, in which he plays a young Leonardo da Vinci?

“None of the above!” Turner says. “I’m in Toronto.” The enigmatic charm, feline eyes and gleaming locks that he deployed so mercilessly in Poldark, The Hobbit films and Being Human are all there. “My missus is working here,” he explains, and so is he. That’s the American actress Caitlin FitzGerald, his partner of three years, whom he met when they starred in the 2018 film The Man Who Killed Hitler and Then the Bigfoot. At first I assume the “missus” is laddish affectation but it turns out that it’s official: Turner and FitzGerald, both 37, got married in secret in Italy in August after filming finished on Leonardo. You can almost hear the sighs of disappointment ripple around the world.

Turner won’t say any more — he is famously guarded about his personal life — but he looks insanely happy in the couple’s rented apartment. FitzGerald — whose grandfather Desmond was a CIA agent and organised several plots to assassinate Fidel Castro — is shooting a series, Station Eleven, in Toronto while her husband works on another project that he’s not allowed to talk about. In their downtime they’ve been watching I’ll Be Gone in the Dark, an HBO documentary series about the Golden State Killer, and, on a lighter note, Ottolenghi and the Cakes of Versailles. They share the apartment with Charlie, an ebullient Norfolk terrier that Turner has to eject from the room halfway through our interview when he starts yapping. “I’m surprised he behaved for so long,” he says

Eight-part series Leonardo has been criticised for warping history

Like many of his fellow thesps, Turner has been doing a great deal of lockdown painting. “We have a roof garden here and the light has been really good,” he says. “I probably shouldn’t be saying this because I don’t know if the landlord knows. It’s not messy work anyway!” Unlike some of his peers — I’m looking at you, Pierce Brosnan — he has yet to unleash his daubings on the world. How would he describe his style? “I struggle to say abstract, but I haven’t quite figured out what it is yet.” Did it help with playing Leonardo? “I don’t know. If you saw my paintings, you’d assume very much not,” Turner says. He has a studied line in self-effacement, honed after years of “sexiest man on TV” questions.

Leonardo premiered in Italy last month and was watched by seven million, many of them doubtless keen to see Turner brooding in a succession of smocks. The eight-part series has been criticised for warping history, having the artist accused of murder and featuring an apparently fictional muse, Caterina da Cremona, played by Matilda De Angelis from The Undoing. Luca Bernabei, the chief executive of Lux Vide who produced the series, defended it stoutly. “Matilda De Angelis’s character did exist. She was a model Leonardo asked to paint,” he said. “We have been really careful in our research. But this is not a documentary, we are not historians and this is not a university history lecture.”

And if the history pedants are spluttering, the art pedants should be happier — the series goes to considerable lengths to make the painting look authentic. Each episode is themed around a different masterpiece, from the portrait of Ginevra de’ Benci to The Last Supper to the Mona Lisa, and the candlelit cinematography is often sumptuous. Turner’s research included a private view of a Leonardo exhibition. “I spent some time alone with the actual paintings, which was brilliant,” he says. “They’re just like high-definition photographs. I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that a human had done this.”

Aidan Turner attended an artist’s boot camp before filming started

The series opens in Florence in the 1460s, with Leonardo a pupil of Verrocchio, played by the veteran Italian actor Giancarlo Giannini. Before the shoot Turner and his co-stars went on an artists’ boot camp (brush camp?) supervised by professionals. He says the hardest part was learning to paint, as Leonardo did, with his left hand. He compares it to learning to ride a horse for Poldark, which he pretended he knew how to do before going on a crash course when he got the part.

Brushwork was the same, he says. “I realised I had to get good quite quickly and look like I knew what I was doing with my left hand, which is more difficult than you would think. It’s keeping it steady — you find it just moves around a lot. Leonardo was very slow and precise — I think I got it down. After a few weeks you start picking up the brush with your left hand, it becomes natural.”

Leonardo was a vegetarian, Turner tells me, “and apparently later in life opened some sort of vegetarian restaurant”. He was also gay, something that, despite reports, the series does not shy away from. Was this Turner’s first time kissing a man on screen? He laughs. “Of all the things I was expecting you to ask next, that wasn’t one of them! In a lot of ways it was just another love scene. The fact that the gender was different — that was never a thing. No, it felt right. It didn’t feel any different at all. But yeah, to answer your question, that was the first time, which I’d never really thought of until now.”

What did feel weird, he says, were the Covid protocols. “Suddenly people are wearing masks and shields and hazmat suits. We had a big sanitisation machine as we walked in that would spray us. You take off the mask when you shoot the scene and it’s a bit strange for a second. Then you realise it’s the first time you’ve seen your co-star’s face that day. It’s not conducive to a very creative environment, for sure. But we made it work and nobody got sick.”

Turner spends a chunk of the first episode painting De Angelis, and both actors know what it’s like to be ogled. She has been asked endlessly about her naked locker-room sequence in The Undoing, just as he has been reminded of his shirtless scything scene in Poldark. Before that there was his lusted-after vampire in Being Human and his sexy dwarf in The Hobbit — branded a “dwilf” in some quarters — although that “definitely wasn’t the intention”, he says. “I think I just had less prosthetics on my face. My make-up call was 20 minutes and everyone else was sitting in the chair in the morning for three and a half hours. It wasn’t good to be around the other dwarfs in the mornings, that’s for sure.

“I get why people are interested,” he says of the ogling. “It’s just when it keeps coming up.”

We move on. According to a recent survey Cornwall has overtaken London as the most desirable place to live in Britain. Does he think Poldark played a part in that? He laughs. “Maybe we nudged a few people in the right direction. I think people forgot how beautiful that side of the world is. One of the first reviews of Poldark we read was like: ‘We can’t believe that this is our country, it looks like the south of France.’”

Could Poldark return, and would Turner be in it? If they stuck to the chronology of Winston Graham’s books they would have to leap ahead a few years. Maybe he could play an aged-up Ross Poldark in latex and fake paunch? “I don’t know if I’d be keen on the ageing-up thing,” he says. “It never really works. I don’t know whether they need to be too strict with that gap anyway. There’s the possibility someday, maybe. I enjoyed working with everybody on Poldark, from the writers right down to all the cast and crew. It really is like a family. So I’d be open to chat about it. But not for a while.”

Before that he will appear as the apostle Andrew in The Last Planet, the forthcoming biblical epic from Terrence Malick, revered creator of The Thin Red Line and The Tree of Life. Well, he doesn’t know for sure if he will appear. Actors of the calibre of Rachel Weisz, Mickey Rourke and Jessica Chastain have seen their performances in Malick films vanish during editing.

“You want what’s best for the film. And if you don’t fit into it, you don’t fit into it,” Turner says in the tone of hair-shirt devotion that actors tend to use when talking about Malick. With a cast including Ben Kingsley and Mark Rylance as Satan, the movie is meant to tell the story of Jesus through a series of parables. Turner doesn’t really have a clue, though.

“You don’t necessarily know what you’re signing up to. You’re signing up to Terrence Malick,” he says. The director has “a great way of working. Everything is around ‘where is the sun’ at this particular time. That’s our natural light and it’s all we use. So things happen fast. There’s no trailers, hair, make-up, we’re just all together. You don’t know from day to day what you’ll be doing. It’s quite renegade stuff. That’s the way I always wanted to work.”

It’s closer to the immediacy of the theatre, which is where Turner started out. The son of an electrician, Pearse, and an accountant, Eileen, he represented Ireland at ballroom dancing before falling into acting. After studying at the Gaiety School of Acting in Dublin he acted in plays for five years and in 2018 he returned to the stage to rave reviews in Martin McDonagh’s The Lieutenant of Inishmore in the West End. Rave being the operative word — his performance was bracingly unhinged. “I can’t wait to get back to the theatre,” he says. “That’s what we’re looking at probably next.”

Turner’s character in The Lieutenant of Inishmore was an Irish freedom fighter, but he is reluctant to talk about the prospect of Irish reunification (“So I don’t get shot when I get home,” he told one interviewer). Culture is safer ground, and his native country is going through a purple patch with Sally Rooney in literature, Fontaines DC in music and the likes of McDonagh, Jessie Buckley and Denise Gough in drama. “It tends to happen in waves,” Turner says. “Coming out of drama school, Colin Farrell was such a big thing. When these actors really make it you can feel some of their light begin to shine on the industry back home.”

Like Farrell, Turner is an international star, although it has mainly been in period roles: Poldark, Leonardo, Andrew and his breakout turn as the 19th-century poet Dante Gabriel Rossetti in the 2009 series Desperate Romantics. It must be something about the hair.

That could be about to change, though. Toronto often stands in for New York, which suggests that his current mystery project has a contemporary setting. Does he yearn to act in jeans? “Yeah, you’re right,” he says with a laugh. “After Leonardo, I think tights and knee-length boots are out for a while.” Many would beg him to reconsider.

#aidanpics

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stellarstarwarsimagines · 4 years ago

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Poe Dameron Masterlist (It got too long for the other)

About to Break* - Poe Request: You don’t like to ask for help when it comes to dealing with your emotions, but when a friend gets hurt, and there’s nothing you can do about it, there’s only one person you can turn to that you know will keep you from breaking apart.

Breaking the Bed* - Poe is headed off to Exegol, and you want to give him something to remember you by.

Commander Dameron*** - Poe Request: On a rescue mission to save your husband, you find out that he has hit his head, and has a little trouble remembering who you are. He still thinks you’re the sexiest person in the galaxy though.

A Cover is Not the Book* - Poe Request: You hated Poe Dameron. It seemed like he was constantly doing everything in his power to make your life harder. Slowly though, you started to learn that maybe that wasn’t quite the case.

The First of Many* - Poe Request: Poe Dameron is your best friend in the world, but you may care for him a little more than you should. Can a conversation with Leia and Poe’s life in danger once more convince you to finally confess your feelings?

Glitter in the Air* - A comfort drabble based on the song Glitter in the Air. For years you’ve had your walls up, afraid of getting hurt, but Poe’s finally torn them down.

Help Arrives - Poe Request: A drabble based on the prompt, “You wish, Dameron!” “Well to be honest . . . I do.”

Hot in Here* - Poe Request: Trapped in an elevator with your best friend, new feelings come to light by accident.

Let’s Escape - Poe Request: You’ve been so wrapped up in fighting the war lately, you’ve forgotten your own birthday. Luckily Poe is there to make sure you make some great memories.

Liking You Too Much*** - Poe Request: A drabble based on the prompt, “I don’t like being told what to do unless I’m naked.” An injured Poe will only agree to be treated by you, but the sight of the man you think you’re falling in love with so hurt makes you more scared than you thought it would.

Menace* - Poe’s been working hard lately. Too hard. When you wake up to find him working late into the night, you decide it’s time to make sure he gets some rest.

My Heart Went Boom** - Poe Request: You have a major, major crush on Commander Poe Dameron. It’s probably why you find yourself working on his ship all night so he could do his Sunday morning flight. You just didn’t expect him to show up while you were doing so and possibly give you a head injury.

Overthinking - Poe Request: You wished that it was possible to shut off your brain. You knew your train of thought wasn’t logical, but all you can think is that he’s pulling away. Until you’re proven otherwise.

Partners* - Based on the trope: A hero duo arguing over who’s the sidekick while fighting a villain.

Protecting You* - Poe Request: You’ve been haunted by nightmares since the Temple burned and Snoke invaded your mind. Thankfully your boyfriend has come up with a way to help you out with them.

Somebody to Love** - Poe and you have been dancing around your feelings for each other for a long time. When a confrontation brings out all the insecurities you have about your relationship, will it be enough for him to finally make a move, or lose you forever?

Something You Like* - While doing it in a dirty cantina bathroom wasn’t something you particularly loved, you were pretty sure that the cocky, flyboy Poe was going to make it worth your while.

That’s Mine** - Poe Request: A drabble based on the prompt, “This is mine are we clear?” You’re about to go on a solo mission, and Poe is less than pleased about it.

Thinking About You* - Between working, Poe’s new schedule, and raising your now two year old, you’ve been stressed to the max lately. Luckily, Poe’s got an idea to help with that. Modern AU

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captain-ross-poldark · 4 years ago

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Poldark’s Aidan Turner on playing Leonardo da Vinci

Ed Potton

Friday 2 April 2021

Aidan Turner takes on the role of Renaissance polymath LeonardoJUSTIN SUTCLIFFE/EYEVIN

Eight-part series Leonardo has been criticised for warping historyPA

Aidan Turner attended an artist’s boot camp before filming startedVITTORIA FENATI MORACE

With his wife, the American actress Caitlin FitzGeraldREX FEATURES

“I get why people are interested,” he says of the ogling. “It’s just when it keeps coming up.”

Turner with Eleanor Tomlinson in PoldarkMIKE HOGAN

Before that he will appear as the apostle Andrew in The Last Planet, the forthcoming biblical epic from Terrence Malick, revered creator ofThe Thin Red Line and The Tree of Life. Well, he doesn’t know for sure if he will appear. Actors of the calibre of Rachel Weisz, Mickey Rourke and Jessica Chastain have seen their performances in Malick films vanish during editing.

All episodes of Leonardo will be on Amazon from April 16

https://www.thetimes.co.uk/article/poldarks-aidan-turner-on-playing-leonardo-da-vinci-wnmqhxqxr

#Sunday times #aidan turner #Leonardo

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wxlfstxrx · 5 years ago

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Sleepy and cuddly O'Knutzy headcanons to warm my heart?:) Please and thanks🥺❤️

ANON WHY DID YOU DO THIS TO ME i am craving cuddles so bad now and i got none :( hnnnnnnnnnggggggggggggggggggghhhhhh okay let’s go *cracks knuckles*

am going for the cliche here so tiny 5’9 logan likes to sleep in between his two big boys. he doesn’t really sleep with his head on the pillow (“it hurts my neck” “pillows are meant to protect your neck, lo” “i doN’T KNOW IT JUST HURTS”), instead he scoots down a little so he can bury his face in leo’s chest, and most of the time only the top of his mop of brown curls peeks out of the duvet. he snuggles in close to leo and throws his leg over his, latching onto him like a koala. he breathes in leo’s scent, a mixture of their shared soap and laundry detergent, and he loves that they all smell vaguely the same because it signifies their relationship and the bond they share. he misses living with dumo and his family, he really does, but he loves that the three of them are now living together and it’s all so domestic he can cry.

finn spoons logan, his chest to logan’s back, and arms wrapped around his waist. because he actually does sleep with his head on the pillow (“like a normal person” “shut up”), logan’s head is practically tucked under finn’s chin and his face is inches away from leo’s so when he wakes up the first thing he sees is leo’s peaceful, unguarded face, one side of his face mushed into the pillow, his long eyelashes fluttering lightly as he periodically frowns and mumbles incoherently in his sleep. his ankles are entangled with leo’s, bringing them close and basically sandwiching logan in between them. he loves being the first one to wake up because he gets to savour the few quiet moments where he can just appreciate his two boys, especially because they’ve practically become his family and he’s not so alone anymore like he was when he first joined the lions, scared shitless and always guarded.

leo, with his long arms, wraps around the two boys easily. his hand rests on finn’s waist and that means his arm is draped over logan’s shoulder, and he loves that he can hold them both in his sleep; it grounds him and reminds him of a time where he would wish for himself to someday find a love so genuine and unapologetic. he falls asleep and wakes up intertwined with the two people who have given him everything, who have shown him what love is, and who have taken care of him like nobody else (besides his family) would. he loves that, and he loves them.

when finn’s inevitably the first one to wake up in the morning, he spends a good fifteen minutes just playing with his sleeping boys’ hair, trailing his fingers up and down leo’s cheek, tracing patterns on his freckles, and burying his face in logan’s hair, wrapping his arms even more tightly around him.

leo’s the heaviest sleeper on the planet so he doesn’t stir at all, just continues snoring softly, but logan makes a small noise or two and brings his free hand to rest atop of finn’s before falling back into a light slumber.

eventually, finn decides to get out of bed, wanting to use the bathroom and brush his teeth, but when he pulls away from logan he hears a soft whine and his heart just swells tenfold and he almost doesn’t want to get up. but he really has to pee so he kisses logan’s cheek and whispers i’ll be back before slipping out of the covers.

although logan is practically a walking heater, he instantly feels the cold air on his skin when finn gets up, and he blinks a few times to wake himself up, one hand still flat against leo’s chest and his leg now resting on top of his calf. he turns around slowly, stretching his lower back as he does, and he wraps leo’s arm around himself as he presses his back to leo’s front, feeling his hardness digging into his back. he smiles sleepily as finn comes back, and lifts the covers, holding his hands out.

finn breaks into a soft smile and climbs back into bed, feeling logan’s arms circling around his waist and pulling him flush against his own body. he presses himself closer and finn lets out a soft moan as their hips grind against each other. logan starts nipping at finn’s chest, licking and kissing his way up to his neck, and finn just buries his fingers in logan’s hair, massaging his scalp gently and making him hum in contentment.

logan starts running his hands up and down finn’s back, feeling the muscles rippling underneath his touch. his skin is one of logan’s favourite things about him; it’s smooth and always warm and he loves to run his index finger over the freckles splashed all over his body. he thinks freckles are the sexiest thing ever. at one point, his fingers slip below the waistband of finn’s boxers and he starts to knead the firm flesh of his arse, drawing out long, breathy moans from the redhead, who hauls him further up the bed to kiss him with an intensity that was entirely too inappropriate for… five forty-eight in the morning. logan’s not complaining though.

suddenly, he feels a warm mouth pressed on the back of his neck and a large hand coming round to palm him slowly, thumb rubbing over the tip of his now fully hard length. he gasps loudly into finn’s mouth and then whimpers when he feels leo’s equally hard erection pressed up against his arse. he can’t decide whether to thrust forward into leo’s hand which by now has found its way into his shorts, gripping onto and stroking his throbbing shaft, or to grind down onto leo’s heavily leaking cock which is sliding up and down between logan’s arse cheeks in sync with his hand.

finn helps logan to make that choice; he shuffles down the bed, red curls disappearing under the duvet, and yanking his shorts down, he closes his lips around logan’s cock and starts sucking him devotedly. leo hauls logan up onto his hands and knees, making finn shift so he’s lying underneath logan, cock still buried in his mouth. leo moves to straddle finn’s hips, grinding down on him as he leans forward and licks teasing circles around logan’s entrance at the same time, and both finn and logan let out positively indecent sounds that just make leo even harder.

finn’s hand finds its way to the waistband of his sweats and pulls them down enough such that his leaking cock springs free and he starts pumping him with his fist, smearing the precome all over the swollen tip and driving leo absolutely insane.

logan’s barely coherent but he chokes out a plea for leo to just eat him out now, please, stop teasing him, he can’t wait any longer, and leo happily obliges, driving his tongue into logan, who bucks his hips into finn’s mouth, making him gag.

they build up a steady rhythm and it frankly doesn’t take long for the three of them to climax, one after another, their limbs trembling violently as they ride out their orgasms. logan barely manages to roll off to the side before he collapses onto the mattress, fully kicking the duvet off of them. leo has fallen forward onto finn’s chest, still breathing hard and clutching at the redhead’s biceps as he tries to steady his breathing. finn just looks like he’s in complete bliss, running his hand up and down leo’s sweaty back soothingly and pressing his face into the crook of his neck.

at one point, logan reaches over to the nightstand, picks up his phone and suddenly jumps up, exclaiming in alarm as he practically drags the other two up by their hands. we’re going to be late for training, he rushes out as he nearly trips on the way to the bathroom.

finn gets confused for a moment. isn’t today sunday? he asks, frowning at logan who’s frantically brushing his teeth. logan’s eyes widen and he spits the toothpaste out, rinsing his mouth and splashing water on his face before straightening up again. part of his hair is dripping wet and falling over his forehead in rivulets and water is dripping off his chin, and finn’s suddenly turned on again. he presses his hand down on his half hard cock, trying to control himself as logan checks his phone again.

fuck, he breathes out, his shoulders slumping. yeah, it’s sunday. leo’s rolling his eyes amusedly while leaning against the doorframe and he holds out a hand, pulling them back to the bed. he’s already yawning again, the adrenaline from earlier having worn off and he’s back to being a sleepy baby giant.

finn and logan look at him curled up on the bed and smile at each other, eyes full of love, and they join him back under the covers for a couple more hours of sleep.

#Finn O'Hara #Logan Tremblay #Leo Knut #O'Knutzy #lumosinlove #tooth rotting fluff #with a dash of smut #you're welcome #i wrote this half drunk

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adiwriting · 4 years ago

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Sunday Mornings 12/?

So this started out as a cute little fic of the boys being doggy daddies... and quickly it turned into phone sex. So... heed that warning.

If anyone has any prompt fills for this, let me know. I’m slowly running low on my own ideas for domestic bliss fic!

Gif by the lovely @manesalex

Week 12

The phone rings so early in the morning that it’s still dark outside. Of course the sound causes the three littlest ones on the bed to jolt awake and start barking. Michael groans, reaching out to grab his cell phone off of the nightstand without moving too much. He’s worried if he sits up that John will go tumbling off of his chest and to the floor. It wouldn’t be the first time. His smallest child really is an uncoordinated mess.

When Michael is able to pull his phone to his face, he smiles when he sees an incoming FaceTime call from Alex.

“You woke up the children,” he playfully admonishes Alex in lieu of a formal greeting. Alex has been away on a training for the last several days and isn’t due back home until Tuesday.

“Sorry,” Alex says, not looking sorry in the least. “I have to report in thirty minutes and I didn’t want to leave for work without seeing you guys.”

Michael smiles at that. Or, he would, but Peter, little shit that he is, climbs over his face in order to see his daddy properly.

“Hey baby!” Alex says, his entire face lighting up. “Are you being a good boy for your old man?”

Michael rolls his eyes and Peter literally sits on his face. He most certainly did not agree to being called ‘old man’ and every time he says as much to Alex, Alex makes sure to use it that much more. The fact that Peter is also a little shit is one hundred percent Alex’s influence.

Michael lets Peter say hi for a minute before he reaches up and grabs him, moving him to his chest so that Michael can breathe properly and Alex can see more than just Peter’s nose. Wendy and John squeeze themselves into the frame as well to say hello.

Alex spends a solid minute greeting each of them personally and Michael has to bite back a goofy smile at the way they all get excited to hear their name and attempt to reach Alex through the phone.

“So we’re letting the puppies sleep in our bed now?” Alex asks, amused once he’s done saying good morning to the littles.

“They missed you,” Michael says defensively, not bothering to mention that it is indeed Michael who misses Alex and he’s been letting the puppies sleep in the bed so it won’t feel so big and empty.

“That’s very sweet,” he says. “If they pee on the comforter I’m gonna be mad.”

He has a fair point. Which is why Michael had thought ahead and stripped the bed and replaced the linens with the cheap sheets they only ever use on laundry day.

“Aww, come on babe, you can’t be mad the dogs are in the bed. Look at our girl,” he says, flipping the camera around and pointing it at Bell, who is currently under the covers next to Michael with her head on Michael’s pillow, eyeing the entire thing skeptically, but not running away, which is progress.

“Oh my god, when did this happen?” Alex asks, his hands coming up to his mouth as his eyes water.

Bell has been home with them for three whole weeks and has spent most of her time under their bed. So much time, in fact, that Alex and Michael have taken turns hanging out under the bed with her so she wouldn’t be alone. She would only ever leave to go outside during the day. They’ve had to keep their master bedroom door open at night because the only time she’d venture into the kitchen to eat is during the middle of the night when the entire house is asleep.

“Two nights ago, I woke up to her crawling under the blanket from the foot of the bed. I was gonna text you, but I didn’t wanna jinx it,” he says. “She still goes under the bed when anyone knocks on the door, but otherwise this is her new spot.”

Michael flips the camera back around as Peter tries to lick the phone and Michael has to hold it above his head and out of reach.

“Well that’s certainly progress,” Alex says with a smile and Michael agrees.

Wendy barks at the blanket when Michael moves his foot and pounces at it and John stands up to egg her on.

“Jesus, it’s too early for this shit,” Michael says with a laugh even as he moves his foot around and watches Wendy jump around at the foot of the bed trying to attack whatever beast she assumes is under the sheet.

“I feel bad leaving you with all four of them yourself,” he says. “I know they’re a handful.”

A handful, they certainly are. But that’s not the reason that Michael is annoyed that Alex had to go away this week. Despite his loud protest for weeks about getting a dog, Michael is completely satisfied with their crazy brood.

“I feel worse about you being gone on a Sunday.” Michael pouts at the camera and Alex lets out a groan.

“I know, why do you think I called you so early?” he says. “I wanted to at least pretend that we woke up in bed together before I had to go through another one of these long ass days.”

Michael wants that too. It’s crazy, in a matter of weeks, Michael has completely forgotten how to sleep alone.

“Next time the stupid military decides to send you somewhere, I’m throwing the kids in the airstream and we are coming with you,” he says.

Alex’s soft smile tells him that he wants that too, even as he questions, “And give Bell a nervous breakdown? Wouldn’t that make us bad parents?”

“We’ll train her up,” Michael says, he’s about to say more, when John starts circling around, doing his potty dance.

“Nope!” Michael yells, grabbing John and shooting out of bed. He rushes to the back door, letting him out, before he can poop in the house. Unsurprisingly, his siblings run after him and head outside as well. Perfect. The kids are officially up, everyone’s out of bed except for Bell, and there’s no way Michael is getting back to sleep. It’s not even six in the morning.

He sighs, pulling the phone back up.

“Sorry,” Michael apologizes. “I should probably let you go or something.”

“Wait,” Alex calls out before he can hang up. Michael gives him a questioning look. “I just want to look at you for another minute.”

Michael blushes at that, stepping out onto the patio to take a seat at one of the chairs, watching the kids run around the yard, distracted for a few minutes.

“Is that all I am to you? A pretty face?” he asks in mock outrage.

“Basically.”

“I want to be loved for more than just my beauty you know,” he teases him.

“Oh, I appreciate your mind as well.” Alex’s eyes darken and he licks at his lower lip in the way that always turns Michael on. He reaches down to rub at himself through his sweatpants, and he doesn’t have to be able to see all of Alex… The look on his face tells him that he’s doing the same thing.

“My mind was it?” Michael asks, as he starts to get hard. He flips the camera so that Alex can see the tent in his pants.

“I hate you,” Alex groans and shifts around on the bed until he’s resting back against the pillows.

Michael can just picture him, laying out, feet on the mattress, knees spread, and touching himself. He glances around to make sure the puppies are still distracted before he slips his hand under the waistband to touch himself properly, letting out a moan as he does.

“Fuck, Michael.” Alex bites his lip and it does things to Michael.

“Yes please,” he says, not even embarrassed by how breathy it comes out. “Hurry before the kids want my attention again.”

Alex laughs, but angles his camera down so that Michael can see his hand pumping himself slowly under the thin sheet. Michael slows down his own pumping to match Alex’s pace, trying to picture it’s Alex beside him, touching him.

“You say the sexiest things,” Alex says.

“You love it.”

His breath catches as the sheet covering Alex drops and he can see him in all of his glory. Alex lets go of his dick to lick at his palm before returning back to touching himself. Michael practically whines. Alex paints a positively filthy picture and if he hadn’t upgraded both of their phones with some military grade encryption software he’d be worried… But they are safe and Michael can enjoy this moment with zero guilt.

“I love you,” Alex says.

Despite the fact that both of them are touching themselves, breathing heavily, and moaning loud enough for the neighbors to hear if they were awake, Michael positively melts at Alex’s words. Alex always makes sure that Michael never feels like they are just having sex. They make love every single time.

“I love you, too,” Michael whispers, slowing his pace so that he is able to get the words out without sounding like a damn porn star.

Alex changes the camera angle so that his entire face comes back into view and while Michael was enjoying watching Alex touch himself, he has to admit, he’d rather get off to this view instead. Alex is so fucking beautiful.

“I should be the one touching you right now,” he says, and it sounds sad.

Michael drops his grip on himself and sits up, watching Alex’s face carefully. Somehow, his tired eyes had missed it before, but he can see it now. The weight Alex is carrying in his shoulders. The stress around his eyes. Michael isn’t the only one feeling the distance between them. He wants to ask Alex about the training, but Michael already knows that whatever the military has Alex working on is classified and Alex isn’t allowed to say. And while Alex may disregard the military’s need for secrecy when it comes to anything alien related, he’s a stickler for it with everything else.

“You’ll be home in two days and then you can do all the touching you want,” Michael assures him.

Alex smiles, and though it doesn’t completely erase the stress, it’s something. “I’m gonna hold you to that.”

“You can hold me to more than that, Baby,” he says with a wink that has Alex laughing again.

“Are you gonna come with me or not?” Alex asks and Michael’s not a complete idiot. He flips the camera around, pulls his pants down, and gives Alex a show. After all, his soldier deserves to know what he’s coming back home to, does he not?

Tagged: @callieramics @redstalkingdeath

If anyone else would like to be tagged- let me know!

PS- if anyone wants to see the inspiration photos for Bell in this fic, here you go:

#roswell new mexico #roswell nm #malex fic #malex #alex manes #michael guerin #doggy daddies #domestic bliss #fic: sunday mornings

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bookofmormonmemes · 4 years ago

Note

I don't think comp het would be strong enough to lead Corianton to seek out a female harlot when he could have easily Not Done That and spared himself and his family and his church the embarrassment. What else could he possibly have hoped to gain from that decision besides satisfying the lusts of his eyes? I mean, Alma clearly thought that Corianton's horniness was the main problem and there's no evidence to the contrary. Why out of Alma's sons would you think Corianton is gay?

honestly? projection. like not to get personal but comp het was strong enough scare the hell out of my parents with how quickly and intensely physical my relationship with my boyfriend got in my freshman year of college. I’m an afab person and I am not attracted to boys, but for a while I thought maybe it was just because I wasn’t trying hard enough--wasn’t opening up enough, wasn’t letting myself enjoy his affection. At this time, I was still operating under the viewpoint that marrying a man was the only way for me to ever be happy, in this life or the next. If I could endure my discomfort long enough to eventually accept and actually enjoy our physical relationship, that meant that i Could have a happy heterosexual marriage in the future

and i tried to speedrun it! i went way outside my comfort zone, definitely way outside the For the Strength of Youth guidelines--because the alternative was, if I couldn’t force myself to feel something for him, then i would Never have that happiness. If I Could eventually become attracted to him, then I had a future. I could repent of this unchastity and try again. if i Couldn’t, that was it--I was fully a lesbian and my only choices were either celibacy or apostasy.

(i don’t feel that way anymore. this boy and I broke up after like 4 months. im v happy with the girlfriend I have now and I think our relationship and the affection between us has progressed much more naturally and comfortably and im very grateful for that.)

I think it’s entirely possible Corianton could have had those same (or similar) feelings. Alma specifies that Corianton is in his youth, so I think he might have been just starting to realize he’s different, and didn’t know what to do when confronted with the possibility that he might not like women. So he goes after a harlot, someone who’s already stolen away the hearts of many, someone with enough celebrity for Alma to call her out by name. It’s like when you ask a closeted lesbian her celebrity crush and she just says Chris (Chris Evans? Chris Pine? Just whoever’s most popular, whoever everybody else has a crush on!). Because if he can really feel that lust for Isabel, then afterwards he can repent and find a Good Mormon Nephite Girl to actually fall in love with. If he can’t manage any attraction to Siron’s Top Sexiest Bachelorette, he’s done for. It’s a last-ditch effort to fit the mold.

And it doesn’t work. He comes home, having embarrassed his family and his church, and he sits down for a lecture and he is Not Having A Good Time. Which...I think may be the reason Alma perceives that Corianton’s so worried about mortality and the afterlife. After falling so far and failing so bad, Corianton may have very well been suicidal at this point. If he doesn’t have any hope of Hetero Happiness in this life, maybe his only shot is in the next.

So in the end of chapter 41, Alma talks about resurrection and restoration in a way that I think is pretty key to this interpretation. Every queer member of the Church has heard that they’ll be “fixed” (i.e. made straight/cis) in the Resurrection, but Alma refutes that in this section so hard and so explicitly. In verse 12-13: “Is the meaning of the word restoration to take a thing of a natural state and put it in an unnatural state, or to place it in a state opposite to its nature? O, my son, this is not the case; but the meaning of the word restoration is to bring back again evil for evil...good for that which is good.” Whether good or bad, Corianton isn’t gonna be changed in the Resurrection; he’s not gonna be a different person, he’s not gonna be rid of what he perceives as being wrong with him. That might be a comfort. It might not. But it’s the truth.

In the next chapter Alma goes on to specify that this life is the time to fix what we’ve done wrong. And specifically, that we can fix what we’ve done wrong. And also that that’s not necessarily a get-out-of-jail-free card! Corianton should NOT have abandoned his mission to go after Isabel, regardless of his reasons. And he’s not gonna change his nature in the next life. So right now, he needs to repent. He needs to accept his nature. He does have hope, and he has that hope of happiness in goodness, in treating others with truth and mercy and service.

Alma closes chapter 41 not with a call to be more virtuous or pure, but to be merciful and just with his brethren and to do good--focusing not on how righteous we are in our own selves, but how we treat one another. Finally, he closes chapter 42 (and his talk to corianton in general) similarly: “Go thy way, declare the word with truth and soberness, that thou mayest bring souls unto repentance, that the great plan of mercy my have claim upon them.” Basically: you screwed up, kiddo, but I love you and I believe in you and you’ve got good work to do. Don’t worry. Be kind. Keep determined. Find joy in community. You have hope.

also when all is said and done corianton goes on the cool sailing pilgrimage with hagoth & co. which is Very Gay if i may say

So. Do I think Corianton was gay, and do I think I have good reason for that? Yes. Do I think he was out to his dad, or that Alma would have been supportive, or that Nephite society would have the same homophobia and heteronormativity as the Church today? I don’t know. I’m more of an artist than a scholar--I interpret based on how I feel. I liken the scriptures to myself. This is the evidence I see, this is the story I feel is behind it, this is the eisegesis I’m choosing to take from it. Because it speaks to me, and I relate to it!

I hope this has been a thoughtful adequate answer, but to really tl;dr it basically he’s gay cus im gay and i said so, and that’s really all there needs to be to it! Thank you for sending me this ask and thereby allowing me the space to really study and wax long-winded about this jsdfghjdjfg. gay sailor rights and i hope u have a lovely sunday

#led #ask #anonymous #THIS IS A LONG ONE FOLKS #alma 39-42 #and also a brief mention of #alma 63:5-10 #gay sailor RIGHTS #lemme know if i need to put any warnings on this cus its a little heavy but #also lemme know if i should split it into a keep readin sdfgdhfgj #stead of just. fillin ur dash #im leaving it as is for now but yeah #yeah.#also if anyone tries to call me out for saying im not attracted to boys while thirsting over podcast and anime boys on my main #fictional characters don't count #and i will die by that sword

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zashamalkin · 4 years ago

Video

youtube

Sport24 spent the whole day with Kasterova and found out how the wife of the three-time Stanley Cup winner lives.

Translation below the cut.

Sunday afternoon. The film crew and I drive up to the Malkins' house at 11:00. Anna's morning begins with a workout. The gym is located on the first floor of the house, where we meet the heroine and her coach Igor Kim, the CrossFit champion. “I always try to start the day with a workout, sometimes more intense, sometimes less. Today I will show you the standard workout that I do on the day of the broadcast. It gives a boost of energy, good mood, " Anna begins.

First, warm up on a treadmill for ten minutes. Then there are jumps and squats, several types of "planks". “I train almost every day. I make myself indulgences: one or two days. To be honest, in Moscow I train less often and less intensively . "

An obligatory part of the program is work with dumbbells. With them, Anna lunges. This is followed by exercises with TRX loops and on the machine. “We work a lot on posture, gait, ” explains Kasterov between approaches. While the trainer puts “pancakes” on the barbell, Anna talks about working with “weights” and her diet.

- You can't pump your ass without weights. This is unrealistic. And it's not a fact with weights. All have their weak points. I was once asked on Instagram the question: "Is it possible to pump up the ass in two months?" No you can not.

- Nutrition is also very important. - Of course! You kill so much in the gym, work for the result ... Well, what kind of rolls and gingerbread can we talk about? Already somewhere you have to choose steamed fish, vegetables. For example, now I don't eat sweets at all. In general, I have a sweet tooth: I don't eat fruits, but I like milk chocolate, kinders. But over the past two months I have not eaten sweets at all.

After squats with a barbell of 30 kg, jumping with an elastic band. The workout has been running for forty minutes, so it's time to cool down and stretch. At this time, Evgeny and Nikita Malkin appear at the door, who have come to say goodbye to their mother. Dad is taking his son to hockey practice. “When it comes to hockey, Evgeny is mainly involved. He himself sees and understands what load the child needs, how many times a week he needs to do it, ”says Anna.

After training, Anna leaves to get ready. And in a few hours we go to the Suistudio store to meet with Match TV stylist Ruslan Shakurov and try on clothes for the television broadcast next week. On the way, we discussed with Kasterova her return to the big screen.

- The news of your return to Russian television excited the public. When did you receive an offer from Match TV and how long did you think about it? - Everything always happens spontaneously with me. As practice shows, if you prepare for some projects for a long time, then something will definitely happen. We knew a lot of guys from Match TV, including managers, chief editors, and sound engineers, and worked together at Russia-2. We basically kept in touch all this time. Before the anniversary of Match TV (November 1, 2020, the channel celebrated its fifth anniversary. - Ed.) I got a call from one of the channel's top managers and invited me to a festive broadcast with Dima Guberniev. I was just about to fly to Sochi on vacation. I was very inspired by this proposal, immediately changed tickets, returned earlier and came as a guest presenter. The broadcast went easily, even there were such reviews: “We understand that you had a five-year break, but you worked so well, it was obvious that you were comfortable. Professionalism is not lost. How do you think about working while Zhenya is in Russia? " We discussed everything with the management, including Tina (Kandelaki, general producer of Match TV. - Ed. ). By the way, she just charmed me. An incredibly smart, wise, amazing woman.

- When the season begins in the NHL, will you fly with Zhenya to America? “I don’t want to reveal all our secrets, all our agreements with Tina. We have a specific goal with her for the next year, to which we are moving. Perhaps I will periodically appear on the air. I will stay with Eugene in the USA, then I will return to Moscow for a month. All this does not exclude my possible journalistic activity in America.

- Before the first broadcasts after your return, were you very nervous? - No. Many thanks must be said to Dima Guberniev, who was able to relax me, create a comfortable atmosphere, and it was all “for fun”. The first broadcast was easy, there was no excitement. Another thing is when I was offered to return. Here I am already responsible, I am the one who broadcasts with the guests. Before the first broadcast, I was worried. But everything went well. I know how to cope with nerves, years of work and experience have not gone anywhere.

- Has it become difficult now to combine personal life and work? - In general, I spend a lot of time with my child. Of course, now it turns out less. But you have to think about yourself somehow. All these years I really missed work, broadcasts, these feelings. Fortunately, I have a very understanding family. First of all, my husband, who supported me incredibly strongly. Before each broadcast, he tunes me in, gives me parting words. He's happy for me. Understands that I will not stay in Moscow forever.

- From the outside one gets the impression that your life in recent years has been ideal. Husband with son, Miami, high income and the ability to buy whatever you want. Why did you decide to return to television and what did you miss? - In general, I was not born in some kind of golden cradle. In order to achieve some results in my career, I had to work hard. Actually, it hasn't gone anywhere. Yes, we are definitely lucky. We have a wonderful life filled with comfort. But understand that there are pros and cons everywhere. This does not mean that I wake up when I want and do what I want. Living with a professional athlete is also a certain job. A lot of time and attention is spent on Eugene. He is the head of the family, he is the main earner. We are all adjusting to it.

The desire to work never left me. By the way, many acquaintances said to me: “Nafig do you need this? You already have everything. Live, get high. " But, probably, I am so arranged that I cannot. There was a feeling that I had not completely done something, that I still want ethereal emotions, sensations. It's like a drug.

- You are constantly included in the ratings of the sexiest and most beautiful women in Russia. When you open these articles and news, what emotions do you feel? - It is very nice. Recently, a rating of Maxim magazine was compiled, at first the publication announced a list of girls who were included in it. By the way, they have a very cool editor-in-chief Alexander Malenkov, we have known each other for a long time. He has a cool editor who deals with Instagram. And they wrote that I am one of the few who does not appear in the media, but at the same time do not lose the love of the electorate. For me, this is also a pleasant moment. We come to Moscow for just a couple of months, but nevertheless, people do not forget. The guys from my fan group leave comments under the posts all the time. Naturally, this attention spurs.

As for all these ratings, I will not say that it gives me confidence. I am a very self-critical person, I will find a bunch of flaws and flaws in myself. But, apparently, it means that people cannot be fooled. I like it, it's cool. I really appreciate all this.

***

- When you first moved to America to your Zhenya, how difficult was it to get used to your new life? Here you had a job, loved ones, and there is only him. - It was difficult, especially in the first year. A new country, people, a language that at that time was not at the same level as it is now. Naturally, there was a certain barrier. Zhenya was constantly on the road, plus pregnancy, no one canceled hormones. It was very hard, there was not enough work. I reflected very hard on this at the time.

- In the hockey world, it is often discussed that you spend more time in Miami, and Eugene in Pittsburgh. Doesn't he take offense? - It's all not true. I don't understand where it came from at all. I heard that from someone too. Miami just has more opportunities to take cool photos. And even then, if you look at my instagram, then there are photos from Miami and Pittsburgh approximately equally. But people are strange. If Zhenya leaves for three weeks, then, naturally, my child and I will fly to Miami. We, in fact, bought apartments there for this. Plus Nikita goes to an American school there, learns the language.

- Anastasia Ovechkina told me that if she and Sasha go to the shopping mall to buy groceries, they will recognize him everywhere and ask to be photographed. Do you and Zhenya have the same situation in the USA and Russia? - As far as Pittsburgh and Moscow are concerned, Zhenya is one hundred percent recognizable. Going out somewhere and not taking a picture with someone is unrealistic. He's so reliable. Now, maybe because of the coronavirus, he is somewhere afraid, after all, he is responsible for his family.

At first, his recognition was a problem for me. When we started dating, I understood who he was, but did not imagine the extent of his popularity. Going out somewhere to eat so that no one stares at you is really difficult. I don’t remember that. But now we already know certain places, we can sit in a separate room in the restaurant in order to calmly spend time alone or with a family.

- Is it unrealistic for you to go to Gorky Park with your family in good weather? - Get out this way we'll get out. But it will definitely not work out there quietly.

- Is the situation in America the same? - Yes.

- When you first started dating, was it difficult for you to get used to the fact that the schedule of the second person should be put first and your life should be adjusted to his schedule? - Now it's harder for me to talk about it, because I've already forgotten my feelings, whims. I'm used to being adjusted to me. But everything was smooth. Yes, and I fell in love, I wanted to please him, create a comfortable atmosphere so that everything in our family would be good. Everything was calm, harmonious, without any hysterics. There were, of course, small ones (laughs) .

- And you are still in a foreign country, alone. - Yes. Zhenya supported me. Sometimes, however, it seemed to me that he was not doing it enough. But then it passed, there was a complete mutual understanding.

***

For a pleasant conversation, we quietly reach our destination. In the boutique, stylist Ruslan Shakurov is already waiting for us. He takes a tour of the store, shows him the bows he likes, and we go to the fitting room. For the broadcasts Ruslan picked up three pantsuits: bright yellow, beige and blue with stripes. By a collective decision, we choose the brightest - yellow. In it very soon Anna will appear on the air. At the exit from the store, she even admits: “I never thought I'd say this, but I'm really a little tired of shopping” (laughs) . We go to a nearby coffee shop to discuss some more interesting topics.

- The first question suggests itself. Are you a shopaholic at all? - Well, in general, like any normal girl, yes. I love it. Cheers up. It's always nice to pamper yourself.

- In quarantine, your husband posted a video of how he plays computer games. Do you mind? And does he not involve his son? - Absolutely all children play with gadgets: be it a phone, an iPad. Of course, there are limitations. But I cannot completely forbid. He still pays attention to his peers, to older guys who play. I try to offer alternatives, some interesting games. As for Zhenya, I am also calm. Each person has their own ways to relieve stress: someone needs to go for a drink, someone has a smoke, someone needs to play computer games. I don't see it going off scale. Plus, he communicates with many guys there, who, like him, play. Zhenya is not the only hockey player. If it relieves stress, for God's sake. This is not the worst thing that can be.

- You have repeatedly said that you have a difficult character, both of you and Zhenya are hot-tempered. How is it in your family after unsuccessful games? - I relatively recently caught up to the end what my husband experiences after unsuccessful matches. When around, perhaps, no one noticed his mistakes, but he knows to himself that he played badly. I had such a broadcast when I was left very unhappy with myself, but everyone around liked everything and no one said anything bad. I went out and was not at all, because I realized that I did not spend it as I could, and reflected on this for several more hours. Probably at that moment I compared myself to Zhenya and realized that it was difficult to find some words at that moment.

In general, my husband doesn't have many bad games. Zhenya always shows himself, in almost every game. But if the match was not very successful, I step aside, do not torment me with questions and conversations. We had dinner, he went to play a computer game or read a book. At such moments I try to just not go to him. A person needs to be alone, to come to his senses.

- You somehow teased each other in the comments of Instagram. Is it the same in life? - Constantly! This is our communication style. Of course, in some moments there is tenderness, warmth. But we often joke about each other, everything comes from his side. Moreover, Nikita is becoming more mature, and her husband begins to involve the child in his events. It's funny! In general, in our family you will not get bored.

#evgeni malkin #anna kasterova #off season 2020 #moscow #match tv #sport24

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deanstop13billyjoeltraxx · 4 years ago

Text

Superposition

a deancas college roommate au :)

Chapter 8 is up on AO3! Chapter-by-chapter masterlist here.

CW: mentions of verbal abuse, homophobia, alcoholism, jail time. instances of smoking.

some notes: I usually go through and italicize as necessary when I’m posting on tumblr because it doesn’t copy over from my og text, but this chapter is like 6200 words and i’m just not gonna do that. recommend reading on AO3 for the best experience!!

An Exercise in Futility

Three Years Earlier

Castiel was convinced that his life was one massive, cosmic joke.

He’d been considering the possibility for some time. Being the gay son of a homophobic pastor does that to a person. When he discovered, sometime around the age of twelve, that the girls in his Sunday school class were far less interesting than the boys, he could practically feel God laughing at him. Then there was high school, where the religious prattling was replaced by what felt like endless torment at the hands of his peers.

He felt like college was quickly becoming the third punchline.

Not that things were bad. Things were good, actually, better than they’d been in years. He was learning about things he cared about. He passed his midterms with flying colors. He even had friends. He spent a weekend watching all of the Lord of the Rings with Charlie. He had switched seats in accounting to sit next to Meg.

And, of course, there was Dean. Dean, who dragged Cas to a football game and didn’t drink a sip of alcohol the whole time in solidarity; Dean, who, after Tombstone, insisted on movie night every Tuesday; Dean, who, demanded that Cas print out a copy of one of his short stories and sign it (“When you’re a famous douchebag, this is gonna be worth so much money”).

It seemed that, on all fronts, Castiel had finally capitalized on the collegiate promise of a second chance.

But by his own estimation, he was doomed.

Because sometimes, his palms started sweating when Dean stood too close. Sometimes, his heartbeat skipped when Dean threw an arm across Cas’s shoulders. Sometimes, Cas woke up from a dream so vivid, he was disappointed to find himself alone in his bunk bed.

He could see how easy it would be to fall in love with Dean Winchester, what with the blond hair and green eyes, bright smiles and southern lilt, funny jokes and considerate actions. The prospect was utterly terrifying, and Castiel was doing everything in his power to stop dwelling on it.

He’d been down the “falling in love with your straight best friend” road before. AP biology class brought Cas a lab partner in Ben Wright. Soccer team captain, A-student, all around nice guy. Maybe Ben didn’t do anything to stop the constant verbal torment, but he never took part in it. At first, being around him was exhilarating. Sharing looks, catching smiles, trading inside jokes; Cas was intoxicated. He was so high on first love that he made the mistake of confiding in Bartholomew. Cas had always considered him to be a role model, friend and brother at the same time. But that night, when Cas came out, Bartholomew looked at him like one might look at spoiled food. He’d agreed not to tell their father, on the condition that Cas never speak about the matter again, that he figure out some way to “cleanse himself.” They hadn’t spoken since that night.

And so the feelings that once propelled Castiel to school with anticipation suddenly made him dread it. Not only did baring his soul to a brother get him a one-way ticket to estrangement, but Ben started dating someone else, a girl from his English class. Now every shared look was painful, smiles were false, inside jokes stopped being funny.

It was somehow worse, knowing Ben could never feel the same way. It certainly didn’t help the feelings of guilt and shame brought by his family.

Cas would do anything not to feel that way again.

He started by insisting that Dean invite Benny and Charlie to more of their nightly dinners. And while he honestly liked the both of them, he would be lying if he didn’t admit that their presence was, first and foremost, a distraction from Dean. He took up running again, as a way to get himself out of the dorm when Dean decided to stay in. He spent more time studying with Meg.

Meg was shockingly easy to befriend. She wasn’t nice — Cas had watched in shock when, once, she dumped a hot coffee on a skateboarder who had knocked her down on accident — but she never said a mean thing to Castiel. She was like him: a black sheep, the child everyone wished they could forget. Only, where Cas had become an agnostic and gone to college, Meg had become a Satanist and gone to jail for arson.

But this was her new leaf, she told him. Maybe it didn’t matter why someone needed a second chance, only that they were willing to take one.

They had been working for an hour when she threw her pen at his head and said, “Cas, you should come with me to Sig Ep’s Halloween party tomorrow. Be my date.”

Cas took a moment to process the meaning of party + date + with Meg. “Uh, I don’t — well, um, parties aren’t really —”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re allowed to say no, hun.”

Cas panicked. Meg was looking at him expectantly, her resigned smile making it clear she was prepared for rejection.

“Well, I… It’s not because of you — you’re very beautiful, and smart. Actually, you’re one of the most wonderful people I’ve met here.” She grinned at that. “It’s just, I don’t really… Go on dates. With girls.”

She studied him a moment before understanding lit up her face. “Oh.”

Castiel fidgeted with his pencil, refusing to meet her eyes. He’d only ever done this once, and it hadn’t gone well. But he liked having a friend, and more than that, he liked having Meg as a friend. He didn’t want her to think he wasn’t interested because of any fault of her own.

“Cas,” she said. When he didn’t respond, she poked him in the arm. “Castiel.” He raised his eyes. “It’s cool. It’s not like you can just choose to like girls when a pretty one asks you on a date.”

“I… Understand, if you would rather not be friends,” Cas said, cautiously.

“What?” Meg’s eyes widened. “What are you talking about? Why would I not want to be friends?” She laughed a little. “That would be super ironic, considering I told you I went to juvie and you didn’t bat an eye.”

“Because I’m gay,” Cas said quietly, looking down again.

Meg grabbed both his hands. “Cas, hun, there’s nothing wrong with being gay.”

He looked up again, eyes wide. “What? I mean, I know that, I just… Not everyone does.”

Meg smiled sadly at him and gripped his hands a little tighter. “Well, I do. No biggie. We’re going to be iconic together, you and I. Sexiest gay-straight alliance of all time.”

Cas smiled weakly, relief flooding his entire body. “Thank you, Meg. I’m sorry, I didn’t intend to make any judgements on your character. It’s just… This,” he motioned at the air between them, “has never gone well for me.”

Meg shook her head. “That’s a shame,” she said. “I haven’t known you that long. But I think I can tell that you — all the parts of you — are awesome.”

“You can still come to the party,” she added after a moment.

Cas shook his head, capping and uncapping his pen repeatedly. “Parties… They’re not really my scene.”

“All right. You know who to call if you change your mind.”

On Halloween, Castiel returned from his nightly run to find Dean pulling on a flannel. He checked his watch — he had barely made it. 6:57 pm.

“Right on time,” Dean said. “I was about to leave without you.”

“I would have never forgiven you if you did,” Cas joked. Then, “Are Charlie and Benny coming?”

“Nah, they’re both busy tonight. Halloween parties, you know.”

“Oh.” Castiel took a large sip of his water. “You’re not attending a Halloween party?”

Dean shrugged. “Wasn’t really feeling it tonight. Plus, I have a feeling you’ve never seen The Exorcist?” When Cas shook his head, Dean rubbed his hands together. “Oh man, we are totally watching it tonight. Unless you’re busy,” he added, raising his eyebrows at Cas.

“I’m not,” Cas replied. Dean knew this already, of course, otherwise Cas might have made something up. The waters in which he tread got more dangerous each day. He couldn’t escape the warm feeling flooding his chest at the idea of Dean ditching the parties for a movie night.

It was precisely that feeling that caused him to hurriedly ask, “Would you mind if I invited Meg to dinner?”

“Who?” Dean asked, lacing up his boots.

“Meg Masters. She’s the friend from accounting that I told you about.”

“Ah,” Dean said. “Right. What, just me isn’t good enough anymore?” Cas thought he was joking, but it seemed forced.

“Dean —”

“I’m kidding, man,” Dean said with a short laugh. “Sure, she can come.”

Castiel hurriedly splashed his face with cold water and shed his sweaty t-shirt in favor of a hoodie. Dean feigned a sniff in his direction and made a face, to which Cas replied with an eye-roll. As they left their dorm, Cas sent a text to Meg.

CN (7:02 pm)

Would you like to get dinner with Dean and me?

CN (7:02 pm)

Unless you’re already at your party, in which case, be safe.

MM (7:03 pm)

Party not til later. hot roommate dean?

CN (7:04 pm)

...Is that a yes?

MM (7:04 pm)

Yes please ;) shocker dining?

CN (7:05 pm)

Yes. We’ll meet you there.

Dean grabbed a burger and an inordinate amount of fries while Castiel loaded his plate with spaghetti and a salad. Meg walked into the dining room just after he and Dean sat down, and Cas waved her over.

“Meg,” he said, offering her the seat next to his, “this is Dean Winchester. Dean, this is Meg Masters.” Dean smiled at her with a mouthful of french fries. Cas dropped his head in exasperation.

“Pleasure,” Meg said with a half-cocked smile. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Dean shrugged. “I am pretty awesome. Can’t say the same about you, though.”

Cas went bright red. He shot Dean a glare, then turned to Meg. “He’s joking —”

Meg’s grin only widened, and she giggled. “It’s all right, Cas, I’m not very interesting.” She raised an eyebrow at him. He became extremely intent upon eating his dinner.

Dean stared at her for a moment, chewing a bite of burger. “So,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “You know Cas from accounting?”

“That’s right,” Meg said brightly.

“So he’s your tutor or somethin’?”

Cas interjected. “Actually, Meg is far more capable than I am. She essentially taught me everything about liabilities.”

“Adorable,” Dean grumbled.

“Isn’t it?” Meg asked sweetly. “And you’re his roommate.”

“Yep.”

“Lucky you.” She gave him a wink. Dean choked on his diet Coke, and Castiel prayed to whomever was listening that he might cease to exist.

“Meg,” he said, giving her a pointed look, “did you finish the homework?”

She pulled her eyes away from Dean. “Yeah, I did.” She dropped her voice. “Did you want to go over it? At my place?” She winked at Cas, who stared at her in horror. Why was she acting like this? “You know,” Meg continued, “We can do other things too. Besides accounting.”

Dean cleared his throat loudly. “I’m gonna go grab some more fries. Do y’all want anything?”

Cas and Meg shook their heads. When Dean had left the table, Cas gave Meg a death stare.

“What’s wrong with you?” He hissed. “I thought we covered this —”

“Yes, Cas, hun, I know you’re extraordinarily gay,” Meg said with an eyeroll. “I’m not actually interested. I’m just conducting an experiment.”

Cas narrowed his eyes. “What ‘experiment’—”

He closed his mouth abruptly and leaned away from Meg when he saw Dean returning from the buffet line. He returned to his seat, looking between Cas and Meg suspiciously. Cas downed his water in one swift action.

“So, Dean,” Meg said after taking a bite of her pizza. “I hear you’re educating our friend here on pop culture.”

Dean didn’t bother to look up at her while he swirled a fry in ketchup. “Guess so.”

Cas cleared his throat to interject. This direction of conversation was much better. “Meg asked what my favorite movie was,” he explained to Dean, who still hadn’t looked up from his plate. “I told her about how much I liked Back to the Future when we watched it last week.”

Dean gave him a small smile. “Yeah, that movie’s friggin’ awesome.”

Cas turned to Meg. “We’re watching The Exorcist tonight.”

Meg gasped dramatically. “So that’s why you blew off our date?”

Dean sputtered into his drink. “Date?” He said through a cough.

Cas looked helplessly at Meg, who unhelpfully smiled back. He was going to have words with her after this.

“I asked him to come to the SigEp party, but he said he was busy,” Meg said, feigning a pout. “But I get it, parties aren’t really Cas’s thing, anyway.”

Dean’s eyes flickered quickly between Cas and Meg. “All right, am I missing something?” He asked. His leg was bouncing against the table leg, hard enough that Cas’s plate was vibrating.

Cas looked at him, panicked, and stuttered out, “I don’t —”

“Like what?” Meg asked, sipping on her water.

“You his girlfriend or somethin’?”

This question delighted Meg. “Why don’t you ask him?”

Dean turned to Cas with an exasperated look. “Well?” He prodded.

Cas was sure he was about three different shades of red at this point. “What — I — no,” he sputtered.

Dean seemed to relax a little. Meg was still grinning like a madman. “There you go,” she said.

Castiel could not formulate a single coherent thought. He was confused as to how they even ended up here. The silence between the three of them was thick and awkward. Meg paid it no mind, just popped a strawberry in her mouth and gave Dean a sickly sweet smile. Dean excused himself to use the restroom, hitting his leg on the table and nearly tripping over his chair. Once he had left, Meg turned to Cas, her eyes sparkling.

“You are so in,” she said.

“What the hell was that?” He asked her. “What just happened?”

“He thinks I’m into you,” she explained. She took a bite of her pizza, then continued, “And he thinks you might be into me. And he hates that.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Cas scoffed.

Meg laughed, throwing her head back. When Cas fixed her with a glare, her eyes widened. “You really don’t see it?”

Cas pinched the bridge of his nose. “There’s nothing to ‘see’. I already told you.”

“Yeah, right. Whatever, you’ll thank me later.”

“For creating what is perhaps the most awkward dinner I’ve ever had in my life?”

She waved him off. “Don’t be such a baby, it wasn’t that bad.”

Cas gave her a look that suggested otherwise. She sighed.

“Look, the way you talk about him…” Meg grabbed Cas's hand when he rolled his eyes. “I’m serious. You like him, and now you know he likes you too.” She sat up proudly. “I just did all the heavy lifting for you.”

“Right,” Cas said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Obviously, this interaction points to an inevitable romantic encounter. Except, and I think this is important, Dean is not gay.”

Meg raised an eyebrow. “Well, the way he looks at you, he’s not straight either. Plus, he apparently still thinks you’re straight, so you two haven’t had that conversation yet. He could be flamingly bisexual and you would never know.”

“This conversation is exhausting.” Cas felt like he was watching a Disney Channel Original Movie, and Meg was a fifteen-year-old matchmaker.

Meg laughed. “I’m sure you’ll survive. By the way, did you actually want to go over the homework this weekend?”

“Yes,” he said, relieved at the change in subject.

Dean returned then. “Are y’all done?” He asked, pointing to their plates. Cas and Meg both nodded, offering “thank you’s” as Dean took their plates to the dish rack. They followed him to the exit, the crisp air sending a chill through Castiel.

“Did you want me to walk back with you, Meg?” Cas offered.

She beamed at him. “You’re so sweet, but no. I’m getting an Uber to Sig Ep, anyway.” She dug into her coat pocket and pulled out something small and black. “Plus, if anyone tries anything, they’ll find themselves electrocuted. Just a little bit.”

Cas grinned. Dean raised an eyebrow.

“See you on Monday, Cas,” Meg said, giving him a hug that lasted just a touch too long. “It was good to meet you, Dean.”

“You too,” Dean muttered.

They watched her walk away for a moment. Cas wanted to avoid looking at Dean for as long as humanly possible. He had no idea how he was supposed to explain the previous interaction.

“So,” Dean said, clearing his throat. “She’s… Nice.”

“She is,” Castiel agreed earnestly. “Dean, I’m sorry, Meg can be a bit…” He struggled to find an adequate descriptor. “I think she enjoys others’ discomfort a bit too much, sometimes,” he finished.

Dean let out a short laugh. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess so. It’s not a big deal, man.”

They stood in silence, Dean looking at the ground intently, Cas tugging on the strings of his hoodie. Dean kicked a rock, then sighed. “You, uh, you ready to head back?”

“Yes,” Cas replied.

The walk back to their dorm was quiet. Castiel couldn’t tell for sure, but he thought Dean looked bothered. He felt bad — he had honestly expected for Meg and Dean to get along. He had thought them to be similar in their confident and boisterous personalities. Now, he wondered if that was precisely the problem. Too much personality at the same dinner table. He winced internally at his own poor judgement. Meg obviously took no issue with the encounter, but he worried that Dean might hold it against him.

Dean let them into their room, then wrinkled his nose at Cas once more. “Dude, seriously, go take a shower. You’re gross.”

“Actually, I enjoy the feeling of my sweat drying all over my skin. I was thinking of going straight to bed like this. It’s not as if I didn’t take a shower because of your constant insistence upon eating meals at the same time every day”

Dean made a gagging motion. “Hey, we had an appointment, and you were almost late. How is that my fault?”

Cas just rolled his eyes and gathered his things to head to the showers. He let out a muttered, “Crap” when he realized nearly all of his laundry was dirty. He’d been busy this week, and running every day tended to render his clothes unwearable after a single use. He made a mental note to do laundry first thing in the morning. He was able to find an old pair of gym shorts, but not a single t-shirt remained in his closet. Cas groaned inwardly. So he would simply have to sit next to Dean for approximately two-and-a-half hours, shirtless. Fantastic.

When he returned from his shower, Cas found Dean cooking two bags of popcorn, the title menu of The Exorcist already on screen. Dean stood up from the microwave when Cas entered, and was halfway into a thumbs-up when he did a double take.

“Uh… We goin’ shirtless tonight, Baywatch?” He said, tugging at his collar.

Castiel tilted his head. “I don’t understand that reference.”

“Of course you don’t,” Dean said with a chuckle. “Seriously, though, dude.”

Cas sighed as he sat on their beanbag. “I have a lot of laundry to do tomorrow,” he said by way of an explanation.

Dean didn’t respond, but made his way to his own closet. He ruffled through it for a moment before Cas was hit in the face by a t-shirt.

“Here, just wear one of mine,” Dean said. He coughed and crossed his arms over his chest. “‘S kinda cold in here, anyway.”

Cas held up the shirt. It was a Led Zeppelin graphic tee, vintage, from their tour in 1977. Cas raised his eyebrows at Dean.

“It’s pretty awesome right?” Cas donned the t-shirt. “Sammy got it for me from a Goodwill a couple years ago. Another of my prized possessions.” He looked at Cas with feigned scrutiny. “Looks good on you,” he said.

Cas played with the hem as he said, “Thank you.” Dean coughed again and walked back to the microwave to retrieve their popcorn. The air was palpable with awkwardness.

Dean turned out the lights. They settled onto the beanbag, as had become custom in the last few weeks.

Not even thirty minutes in, Dean’s phone began to ring. “Hey, my brother’s callin’, can you pause it?” Dean said.

Cas obliged, and Dean stood as he said, “Hey, Sammy, how’s it goin’?”

Cas sat awkwardly with his hands in his lap, doing his best not to eavesdrop on Dean’s conversation. Though, he supposed if it was private, Dean could have moved to the hallway. Instead, he leaned against the door, twisting the beaded bracelet on his left hand.

“He did what?” Dean suddenly yelled, and Cas jumped. Dean shot him a quick apologetic look. “

“Sammy, calm down, it’s okay,” Dean said, and Cas couldn’t pretend to not listen anymore. He looked at Dean with a silent question, but Dean was staring hard at the wall, his free hand balled into a fist.

“Put him on the phone,” Dean said in a low voice. A pause. “What, so now he’s allowed to treat you like shit whenever he wants?” Another pause. A slow exhale from Dean. “No, you’re right. I don’t… I won’t make it worse.” Pause. “Do you want me to come down there? Because I will, you know I will.”

Dean was silent for a long moment before asking, “Are you sure?” He sighed at whatever his brother said on the other line. “Okay. Let me know if you need anything, I guess. And Sam? I’m really fucking sorry. I should’ve stayed, I don’t…” He trailed off and pinched the bridge of his nose. “No, I know. Yeah. Okay, I’ll talk to you later. Bye.”

Dean lowered the phone from his ear. He stood silently for a moment, angry gaze directed at the floor. Then, causing Cas to jump once more, he turned and hurled his fist at the door.

There was a loud thud upon impact, and then Dean was yelling “Fuck! Goddammit!” as he cradled his hand. Cas stood abruptly, but had no idea what to do. He walked toward Dean, cautiously.

Dean’s eyes were closed, and he was heaving deep breaths. Cas put a hand on his shoulder. “Dean?” He ventured.

“Sorry,” Dean mumbled, still not looking at Cas. “I just — Fuck, that was so stupid,” he said, shaking out his affected hand. “Sorry,” he repeated to the wall.

“It’s fine,” Cas said, even though he thought it definitely wasn’t. “What happened?”

Dean just shook his head. Cas’s hand remained on his shoulder. He tightened his grip, a little nervous that Dean might shove him off. “Dean,” he persisted. “You can tell me.”

Finally, Dean looked at him, and Cas thought if that level of rage was ever directed at him, he would promptly die. Instead, he raised an eyebrow. “Are you all right?”

“No,” Dean growled. “I gotta — I don’t know, I need to calm down. I don’t actually want to break something,” he said, motioning to the door. “I’m gonna go for a smoke.”

Cas dropped his hand and folded his arms across his chest. “I’ll go with you.”

“Cas —” Dean started, but Cas silenced him with a look. He grabbed one of Dean’s flannels from his desk chair and threw it at him. Dean caught it with a cross between surprise and irritation. Cas grabbed his own windbreaker and put it on, looking expectantly at Dean.

“Are we going?” He asked.

Dean looked at him as if he was trying to decide whether arguing was worth it. A sigh confirmed that it wasn’t. He silently pulled on his flannel and opened the door, ushering Cas through before exiting himself.

They walked in silence, despite the fervor of Cas’s concern and curiosity at Dean’s outburst. Dean’s jaw was set, and he took a long, slow breath when they hit the crisp fall air. When they reached the Impala, Cas silently moved to lean on the hood while Dean retrieved his lighter and a cigarette.

Dean joined Cas as he took a long draw. He exhaled the smoke upwards, his eyes closed. His face was still turned to the sky when he asked, “This really doesn’t bother you?”

“What?”

Dean brandished his cigarette in answer, turning to raise an eyebrow at Cas.

Cas shrugged. “It’s not particularly comforting. But, there are worse things.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and looked up thoughtfully. “Besides, you’ve been smoking for years. If anyone could convince you to quit, your random college roommate isn’t the most likely option.”

Dean gave him a strange look before exhaling another plume of smoke. He coughed a little. “I think you have long passed the line between ‘random roommate’ and ‘new best friend.’”

Cas gave a little chuckle. “That’s good to hear.” Inside, his world was falling down and rebuilding itself anew. Dean thought of Cas as his best friend. Cas had never known that feeling, to have someone care about him like that. Cas wondered if that could be enough, being Dean’s best friend.

He didn’t say anything more, though, just let Dean finish his cigarette. After throwing the butt on the pavement and stomping on it, he heaved a sigh.

“My dad…” He started, but paused. “He, uh, he said some stuff to Sam. My brother.”

Cas nodded, doing his best to keep his face neutral. Talking things through wasn’t Dean’s strong suit, and Cas didn’t want dramatics to make it more difficult.

“What did he say?”

Dean shifted and rubbed his hands together. “Bunch of bullshit. ‘It’s your fault your Mom’s dead, it should have been you instead of her.’” Dean rubbed a hand over his mouth. “I mean, he used to say that to me. He gets into these moods when he drinks, says a bunch of shit he doesn’t mean.”

Dean shoved himself off the hood and began to pace in front of Cas. “But I could take it, you know? Sammy’s just a kid. He doesn’t need to hear that.”

“Your father says things like this often?” Cas asked, a tinge of horror in his voice.

“He used to. But only to me. Never to Sam.”

Cas took a deep breath, trying to discern how best to proceed. “Dean,” he said slowly, “he shouldn’t say those things. Ever. Not to Sam, and not to you.”

“I’m just confused,” Dean said. “And pissed. Sam and him are usually okay. I mean, they’re not buddies or anything, but Dad leaves him alone for the most part.”

“I don’t want to overstep,” Cas said, “But it seems like your father used you as an outlet for misplaced rage. A punching bag, if you will. And now you’re gone, so Sam is the next best thing.”

Dean met Cas'seyes with a horrified look. “God. I didn’t… You’re right. Shit, this is my fault, I can’t believe I —”

“No, Dean,” Cas growled. He stood and grabbed Dean by both shoulders. “This is your father’s fault. Not yours.”

“But I left Sam, alone, with him,” Dean said, and Cas could see panic rising in his eyes. “How could I do that, why —” Cas interrupted him again. “Why did you decide to attend college, Dean? What’s the real reason?”

“What?” Dean gave him an incredulous look. “I don’t know.”

Cas tilted his head down, skeptical.

Dean let out a long sigh. “Okay, all right. I went because Sam is smart, and he needs to go. But we don’t have any money. So I figured if I came and got a degree or some shit, I could make enough to throw him some cash while he goes to school. Get some summer internships and save up for his college fund. He’d probably still have to take out loans and stuff, but if I got a good job, I could help him pay them off.”

Cas wasn’t sure what answer he had expected, but it wasn’t that one. He felt his heart break for the man standing in front of him, who did everything he could and more for the people he cared about and never felt like it was enough.

“Would Sam ever hold that against you?” When Dean didn’t respond, Cas continued. “I know I wouldn’t. I have four older siblings, and not a single one of them has ever done something like that for me.”

“But—”

“You’re making yourself miserable over something that isn’t your fault,” Cas said. “Did you have anyone protecting you when your father went on a tirade?”

“No, but—”

“Is Sam incapable of handling himself?”

“No, but Cas—”

“He’ll be alright, Dean,” Cas insisted. “You can’t live your whole life as his shield. You’ll break yourself trying.”

Dean was silent, and wouldn’t meet Cas's eyes. Cas dropped his hands and leaned back against the Impala. “Did you ever think that Sam might have wanted you to go to school simply so you could get yourself out? Did you ever think that Sam hates the way your father treated you as much as you hate what he did to Sam tonight?”

Dean pursed his lips together, but his jaw relaxed slightly. Finally, he muttered, “I guess I never thought about it like that.”

Cas felt relief wash over him. He’d never seen Dean like this — angry and frantic. Cas wondered if Dean always did this, shouldered the blame for every bad thing his brother had to endure. The thought made his chest hurt.

Dean’s hands were hanging limply at his side. He looked exhausted. Against his better judgement, Cas grabbed Dean by the forearm and pulled him into a hug. Dean was still for a moment, but then sighed and rested his head on Cas's shoulder.

“Sorry, man,” he said. “I didn’t mean to act like that, punching things and shit. I just get so angry, and I don’t know what to do with it.”

Cas was trying very hard to form a coherent thought. “There’s no need for apologies. I understand.”

A chuckle escaped Dean’s lips. “You must think I’m a complete nutjob, huh?”

Cas tilted his head in consideration. Dean’s hair tickled his cheek. “No. I think your father spent years verbally abusing you, and you’re doing your best in spite of that.”

Dean broke the hug abruptly. The sudden space between them felt criminal. “I mean, I don’t know if it’s abuse…” He started, but, at Cas's look, he trailed off. Dean rubbed the back of his neck. “Thanks, Cas,” he said quietly. “Honestly, dude, I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

Cas's cheeks warmed, and he shrugged. “You would have done the same for me.”

Dean gave him a small smile. Cas’s heart nearly broke with relief. “I’m beat,” he said. “Bed?”

Cas nodded eagerly. “Bed.”

When they reached the stairs, Dean broke the heavy silence.

“So…” He began. There was a false brightness in his voice; he was obviously searching for levity. “You hanging out with your girlfriend tomorrow?”

“If you’re referring to Meg, she’s still not my girlfriend,” Cas replied vacantly. “And yes.” He suddenly felt exhausted. First the mortifying dinner with Meg, then the heavy conversation with Dean. He hardly had it in him to field jokes about Meg being his girlfriend.

“She’s not your girlfriend yet,” Dean amended, giving Cas a smirk that didn’t meet his eyes.

And what was Cas supposed to say to that? Meg was funny and smart and beautiful. She and Cas studied together on the regular. There was absolutely no reason he shouldn’t be interested in Meg from Dean’s perspective.

Of course, if Dean knew he was gay…

Cas didn’t know if he could face the consequences of coming out to Dean. Would he be upset that Cas hadn’t told him earlier? Would he be uncomfortable with a gay man as his roommate? As his friend? Cas may have expanded his social circle, but he still couldn’t bear to lose Dean.

But, then again, Dean had defended him once already, without knowing whether or not he was gay. He’d sounded indifferent to the possibility then. And just tonight, he’d called Cas his best friend. Dean cared more deeply for his friends and family than anyone Cas had ever met. Cas was in that group. Dean wouldn’t shove him out of it because of who he loved.

Right?

As they reached the entrance to their hall, Dean poked Cas in the shoulder. “Hey, Earth to Major Tom,” he said. “You okay over there?”

Cas realized he hadn’t said a word since they started their ascent up the stairs. He sighed heavily.

Perhaps this was as good a time as any.

“Dean,” he said, but closed his mouth. He should just say it. He had nothing to worry about. This wasn’t Bartholomew. He knew that, but the words remained stuck in his throat.

“What?” Dean said, eyebrows raised. “Cas,” he prodded, waving a hand in front of Cas’s face.

“I’m not…” Cas swallowed. “I will never date Meg,” he finished, with a pointed look.

Dean side-eyed him as they walked to their door. “What, she’s not your type?”

Cas gave him a lopsided smile. “You could say that.”

“I dunno, man, maybe you should reconsider, you two are pretty adorable, in a gross way —”

“Dean.” Cas was about to rip his hair out. He wasn’t taking the hint. “She’s not my type. She’s a girl.”

Realization dawned on Dean’s face. “Oh,” he said.

“I apologize for not telling you sooner,” Cas said, bracing for the worst. “If that makes you uncomfortable, I understand —”

“What?” Dean practically shouted. At Cas’s look of surprise, he lowered his voice. “No, Cas, are you kidding? I thought I told you, after all that shit with Cole. It’s not a big deal.”

“Knowing your roommate might possibly be gay and knowing he is, indeed, gay are two very different things.”

Dean looked at Cas like he had just made the worst joke in the world. “I’m not gonna, like, try to move out.” As they approached their room, Cas stared resolutely ahead, walking with purpose. But Dean jumped out in front of him, a hand on Cas’s chest to stop him in his tracks.

“Dude, it’s gonna take more than that to get rid of me. I lost my shit and punched a door, like, an hour ago, and you barely even blinked.” Dean crossed his arms over his chest.

Cas met Dean’s eyes and found unparalleled sincerity.

“I don’t… You’re not the least bit upset?” Cas asked, slightly incredulous.

Dean shrugged. “You’re my best friend, Cas,” he said as he straightened. “Nothing’s gonna change that.” He pulled on his bracelet. “I do feel bad though, for making you feel like you couldn’t tell me. Not that you had to, or anything,” he added in a rush.

Cas shook his head vigorously. “It has nothing to do with you, Dean. I’m… I’m new at this,” Cas explained. “The first time, with Bartholomew… I believe he was, as you would say, a dick about it.”

Dean’s eyes turned stormy. “Bastard,” he said. “I’m sorry, Cas. You shouldn’t have had to deal with that.”

Cas nodded. “You’re right. It was rather unfortunate. I haven’t spoken to him since the night I told him I was gay.”

Dean moved back to Cas’s side and slung an arm around his shoulders. “His loss,” he said. “You’re friggin’ awesome, dude.”

Cas smiled. Dean patted him on the back and let the two of them into their room.

Cas brushed his teeth and climbed into bed. Dean returned minutes later from a shower, and he flipped off the lights as he made his way to his own bunk.

Cas pulled off Dean’s shirt and threw it across the room. Dean’s head caught it, and he yelped.

“Thank you for the loan,” Cas said, smiling.

An odd expression crossed Dean’s face before he threw the Zeppelin shirt back to Cas. “Keep it,” he said. When Cas gave him a confused look, he put a hand on the back of his neck. “I meant what I said. Looks good on you.”

---------

tagging @nguyenxtrang :)))

#supernatural #destiel #deancas #destiel fic #spn

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axwalker · 5 years ago

Text

Tears in Heaven 4: Start Over

Synopsis: Alexis O’Brien is about to get married but memories of her old life are coming back to haunt her.

MASTERLIST

Pairings: Liam x MC, Drake x MC (TRR)

Warnings: NO ONE UNDER 18 should read this story. This is an 18+ blog.

This story will deal with very dark subjects such as death, severe depression and suicide attempt (among others) if you’re triggered by any of those issues, PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS STORY

A/N: The story will go back and forth between three different periods of time (2010 / 2015 / 2020)

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Pixelberry.

Word count: 5,010

Songs inspiration: Tears in heaven by Eric Clapton

THANKS TO: @burnsoslow Thanks for beta reading and correcting so many mistakes. I love you!

And to @pedudley your comments and feedback are the best. LOVE YOU BOTH! ❤️❤️❤️

March 2015

Bastien was extremely worried about Drake. He thought that some time and distance would help Drake heal, but he seemed to get more and more depressed every day. He spent his days on the couch or in the hammock looking at the sea with a bottle in his hand. His gaze was lost, empty.

The nights were even worse; he didn’t sleep, and the rare nights where he was able to close his eyes for more than a few hours, he woke up sweating with a nightmare - reliving that day, over and over again.

He had barely spoken since he had arrived in Spain. Andrea, Bastien’s wife, had convinced Bastien to try and reach Alexis in Cordonia, but Liam had told him that she was as destroyed as Drake was. Bastien suggested bringing them back together, maybe flying Alexis to Spain. He was convinced that seeing her would help Drake, and vice versa, but Liam had said that Alexis was too weak to travel.

“Son, you can’t keep going like this. You’re going to kill yourself,” Bastien said one night, tired of feeling useless.

“What difference does it make?” Drake took a swig directly from the bottle. “Why should I live after … after what I did?” He felt empty; the guilt was eating him alive, and the only person that could have saved him hated him even more than he hated himself.

“Drake, I’m sure that if you reach out to her- “

“No! I told you already. Do not contact her! I’m not good for her.” He noticed that his bottle was empty, so he stood up and lurched into the kitchen. Bastien followed him. “I destroyed her life … I … destroyed everything ...” He opened the bottle and took a big gulp. “Everything I touch … it dies. My dad died, my mother left, and now T … T… Fuck! I can’t even say his name.”

Bastien placed his hand on his godson’s shoulder. “Son, it wasn’t your fault.”

Drake barked at him, “What the fuck do you know, Bastien? It was my fault, only my fault. I swore to her that I’d protect them. It was my job to keep them safe.” It hurt too much to even breathe. He laid on the hammock again. “Please leave me alone.” He closed his eyes, trying to remember them: his pure laughter and her beautiful face, his little hand gripping his or her soft body against his at night, all the Sunday mornings taking him to the forest and the spicy breakfast waiting for them at the cabin. Maybe if he focused hard enough, he could make time go back.

June 2010

Drake and Alexis had been living together for two days. After another horrible fight with her father, she had finally had enough, and, tired of the way he treated her, she had left to live with Drake at his cabin.

They spent their first 48 hours completely lost in each other. Their second night together, they were both wrapped under a blanket watching the stars on the terrace, when it hit him. All he wanted from life was already there in his arms. So he held her even tighter and, after only eight months since meeting her, he whispered the question in her ear. She couldn’t believe it at first - it was too soon, they were too young, there were a million reasons not to do it - but she was completely crazy about him, too. Her eyes watered before she screamed a loud “yes” into the night. He kissed her deeply and ran to get his grandmother’s emerald engagement ring. It suited her perfectly. It was meant to be.

The wedding preparations had been hectic. They didn’t see the point of a long engagement, so they had set the date for two months from then: the 18th of June, a Saturday.

“Are we completely crazy?” he asked her, grinning after they had gone to the town hall to register their marriage application.

She laughed. “Yeah, completely,” she said, snuggling against him as they walked, “but I love you so much.”

“Me too, baby.” He kissed the top of her head. He was the happiest man in the world.

They didn’t have a lot of money, so they were going to have a small wedding in the forest behind their cabin. All their friends had offered to cooperate, but Drake and Alexis were adamant: They were only going to accept manual labor as wedding gifts. Drake, Liam and Leo brought the tables and chairs for the ceremony and the reception. Bertrand helped them with all the wedding documents, Maxwell was in charge of the music, Savannah decorated the place with Alexis, and Olivia was paying her chef to make the wedding cake. Bastien was working on a special surprise in his woodshop and would be in charge of the BBQ for the big day.

One day before the wedding, Drake was preparing the salads for the BBQ while Alexis and Maxwell chose the songs for the party.

“Guys!” Maxwell said, panicked. “You don’t have a song?”

“Not really,” Alexis paused. “We danced for the first time to ‘She Will Be Loved,’ though.’”

Maxwell grimaced before speaking. “Really? Maroon 5, Blossom?”

“Hey! I love them!” She laughed.

“Don’t get me wrong, Lexie. Adam Levine is the sexiest man alive. But ‘She Will Be Loved’ is not a wedding song.”

Alexis was about to respond when Drake intervened, blushing. “I have one.”

Max and Alexis turned their heads in unison. “You have a wedding song?” Max arched his brows.

Drake shook his head, exasperated to be having this conversation with Maxwell. “It’s not a wedding song, Beaumont. It’s just a song I like.”

Alexis looked at Max meaningfully. “I think Bertrand was looking for you outside to help with the flower arrangements, Max.”

He winked. “Of course, Bertrand is looking for me, riiight.”

When he left, Alexis circled her arms around her future husband’s waist. “What’s the song, babe?”

He sighed, wondering when he had become such a damn softie. “Van Morrison, ‘Crazy Love.’ He looked into her bright eyes and smiled as he cupped her face. “Do you like it?”

“I love it; it’s one of the most romantic songs ever. Why do you like it?”

He smiled sheepishly. “One night after I dropped you off at your father’s house, I put the stereo on, and that song started playing. Listening to it I realized how well it suited you, us.”

That man was going to make her crazy. She crashed her lips against his as he grabbed the nape of her neck and deepened the kiss, letting his tongue meet hers. After a few seconds, he gripped her hips and lifted her to sit her on the counter. She straddled him, while his lips and teeth explored and bit her neck and her hands roamed over his back.

Max cleared his throat. “Fuck! Leo was right. I owe him $20.”

Leo entered the kitchen with a screwdriver in his hand. “Li and I set up the bar …” He stopped to see Alexis combing her hair with her hand. “I told you, Maxwell, you can’t leave these two alone - pay up.”

“Fuck off, Leo.” Drake exchanged a wink with Alexis and went with Leo to check on the improvised bar the brothers had set up in the garden.

The rehearsal was fast; after it, everyone went to sleep early as the preparations had left them exhausted.

The next day, Alexis woke up at Olivia’s apartment feeling giddy with happiness.

“I can’t believe I’m getting married today.”

“If you want to bail, I have the getaway car ready, darling.” Olivia was only half-joking.

Alexis shook her head before she warned her best friend, “You’ll understand one day, Liv. You’ll fall in love like we did, and all of this will make sense to you, I promise.”

“Shoot me if I ever get that sappy. You have my permission.” Olivia opened the door and let a woman in. “This is Clara; she will do your hair and makeup.”

Alexis was about to protest, but Olivia raised her hand. “I know you said you didn’t want this kind of gift, but it’s your wedding day, and you deserve this, Alexis.” She looked at her friend through the mirror of the dresser as she talked. “I can’t cook a BBQ or build improvised bars, but please let me do this.”

Alexis understood what her friend was trying to say. “I love you too, Liv.”

Olivia waved her hand, smiling. “Shit, you’re going to be cheesier than usual today. God help us.” She squeezed Alexis’s shoulder. “Still no news about your father?”

Alexis shook her head. “Not yet. He said that if I married Drake, I was dead to him. He hates him only because he has no money. If he knew him better …” She sighed sadly. “Anyway, it'll all be okay; maybe he’ll show up at the cabin.”

Olivia disguised her sadness for her with a smile. “Maybe, darling. I’ll go change.” She called Drake the minute she left Alexis’ room. Olivia knew George O’Brien, and she was sure he wasn’t coming.

Alexis texted her father the address of the cabin; she was sure he’d regret his decision and would arrive at the last minute, or at least she hoped he would. She hadn’t asked anyone else to walk down the aisle with her.

Drake intercepted Bertrand when he arrived at the cabin.

“Alexis’s father won’t come; I know she was still hoping that he would, but that fucking asshole doesn’t give a damn about her.” Drake’s heart broke just thinking about her waiting for George. “Could you walk her down the aisle? Max is officiating the ceremony, but I know Lexie cares a lot about you, too.” Bertrand assured him that he was proud to accept.

Bastien had built a beautiful arch for the ceremony, and Liam and Leo had placed chairs all over the lawn for their 30 guests.

‘Here Comes the Sun' started to play. Drake waited at the end of the aisle with his heart beating as hard as it could without actually leaving his chest.

After what felt like an eternity, she appeared on Bertrand’s arm. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was; she was gorgeous. Her long white dress made her look like she was floating, her wide smile illuminated her whole face, her dark eyes were glistening with happy tears. Suddenly, he noticed his own eyes watering for the second time in his life, and he didn’t care. Her. All he cared about was her. He couldn’t wait to have her next to him.

Finally, they reached him, and he felt like his heart was going to burst with the smile she reserved only for him. He squeezed her hand, and they stood in front of Maxwell, who had gotten ordained on the internet for the ceremony.

Maxwell took his role very seriously. “As the great poet George Eliot once said:

What greater thing is there for two human souls

than to feel that they are joined together to strengthen

each other in all labor, to minister to each other in all sorrow,

to share with each other in all gladness,

to be one with each other in the

silent unspoken memories?”

Drake and Alexis exchanged a loving glance, as Maxwell proceeded with the ceremony until he reached the part where they had to share their vows.

“I think we’re all impatient to hear Drake’s vows, so let’s start with him.”

Drake turned to face Alexis, who was staring intently at him through her eyelashes. “Fuck, Lexie, stop looking at me like that or I won’t be able to say this.”

She beamed at him.

“I’m not good with words or feelings, so when you suggested that we should write our own vows, I almost choked.”

Their friends laughed.

Drake locked eyes with her. “But then I realized this wasn’t difficult at all. Because the truth is that I love you. I love your beautiful smile, your bright eyes, and the fire in them when you get angry.” Alexis shook her head, smiling through her tears. “I love how much you enjoy every single moment of your life.” He grinned at her. “I couldn’t live without smelling your cherry scent in our pillows or without you dancing all around the house.” He gently stroked her cheek. He was dying to kiss her, but he kept talking. “I love the light you have cast into my life since the second we met, and I swear I’ll always protect you, take care of you, and make sure that your beautiful light keeps on shining.” His voice betrayed his emotion, so he paused for a second. “I’m eager to start our lives together because I’m not sure about a lot of things, but I know without the shadow of a doubt that I’ll love you until the day I die.” He leaned and kissed her forehead.

“I love you too.” Alexis was crying. “Shit! I won’t be able to do this.” She took a deep breath as a grinning Drake gripped her hand reassuringly. “Every day I spend with you is the happiest day of my life. You’re strong, smart, and the most beautiful soul I’ve ever met, even when you try so hard to hide it. I love that smirk that is so you -” she caressed his face tenderly - “those crinkles around your eyes when you smile, your strong hands and your legendary stubbornness. I’ve never felt so safe and so loved before, and I want you to know that I love you with the same intensity, the same fierceness. I promise I’ll always be your partner, your best friend, your lover. I can’t wait to be your wife because I know I’ll love you until the day I die.” She smiled through her tears pronouncing the same words he had told her a few seconds ago.

Maxwell was crying, unable to proceed with the ceremony for a few minutes. “I don’t think I was the best person to do this. You’re so adorable, guys!”

Drake and Alexis laughed with the rest of the guests.

They exchanged their rings, visibly excited, promising to love and cherish each other for the rest of their lives. Finally, Maxwell declared them husband and wife.

“Drake, you may kiss the bride.”

He cupped her face and whispered so only she could hear him. “You have no idea how much I love you, baby.”

Before she could answer, he kissed her softly, slowly deepening the kiss until they heard Maxwell cheer with the rest of their friends.

“I’ve never been this happy, Drake.”

“Me neither, Lexie.”

The party was exactly what they wanted: stress-free and laid back. Bastien was in charge of the BBQ, and they had set up a salad buffet to go with it. Fordessert, they would serve wedding cake and had set up a corner next to a bonfire where guests could prepare their own s’mores. Liv and Liam gave their toasts, and soon it was time for their first dance. Maxwell gave Drake a knowing look before playing their song. Drake stood up and offered his hand to her; she grinned at him and followed him to the improvised dance floor Drake and Liam had set up.

I can hear her heart beat for a thousand miles

And the heavens open every time she smiles

And when I come to her that's where I belong

Yet I'm running to her like a river's song

She give me love, love, love, love, crazy love

He placed his hand on the small of her back and pulled her against him, letting his eyes roam over her beautiful face as they danced. “You look so gorgeous, baby. I can’t wait to have you all to myself tonight.”

She bit her bottom lip, blushing. “You’re much better with words than you think, Drake.” She placed her head on his chest as he led her across the dance floor, the sandalwood invading her nostrils. “And me neither, I can’t wait.”

She's got a fine sense of humor when I'm feeling low down

And when I come to her when the sun goes down

Take away my trouble, take away my grief

Take away my heartache, in the night like a thief

He spun her around confidently. “Wow, I didn’t know you were such a smooth dancer, Walker.” She winked at him, making him laugh.

“I might’ve received a tip or two from Maxwell,” he admitted sheepishly.

He looked so adorable when he was flustered. “Fuck, Drake! I love you so much.”

“I love you too, baby.” He leaned down to her face and gave her a nose kiss before spinning her again.

Yes I want to throw my arms around her

Kiss her hug her kiss her hug her tight

And when I'm returning from so far away

She gives me some sweet lovin' brighten up my day

Yes it makes me righteous, yes it makes me feel whole

Yes it makes me mellow down in to my soul

With the last notes of the song, Drake asked h,er smirking, “Are you ready?”

She nodded, puzzled, and he elegantly dipped her at the end of the song, making her laugh with that throaty laugh he loved so much.

“I’m happy to see I can still surprise you, Mrs. Walker.”

She beamed at him. “I’ll never get tired of how good that sounds.”

April 2019

“Alexis.”

“Hello, Drake. We need to talk.”

He opened the door and gestured for her to come in.

When she entered the cabin, a hundred memories came flooding back: the day she had moved in, the nights they had spent stargazing, the day they had married, and so many others that she tried to avoid because they were too painful. She couldn’t avoid a quick glance to the floor upstairs, but turned her head fast, refusing to think about that room.

Drake watched her move around the cabin, without sitting, her eyes darting everywhere. She’s nervous.

Without a word, he went into the kitchen, took a bottle of whiskey from a cabinet, and poured two glasses.

He came back to the living room and saw Alexis still standing next to the door, like an uninvited guest in her own house. In her old house, Drake corrected himself. He gave her the glass and she gulped it.

“Thank you, I needed that.” She pointed upstairs. “Still the same?”

He took a sip of his whiskey and nodded, still silent. He fixed his piercing eyes on her; she was still the most beautiful woman he had ever met, but her beauty was different now, miles away from the lively, sunny girl he had met. Drake watched her bite her bottom lip as she always did when she was nervous. He knew that the next step would be to twist her ring … except it wasn’t his ring anymore. She was wearing a huge diamond engagement ring, and he immediately guessed the reason she was there. Savannah had warned him a few months back.

The faster they’d get to it, the faster she’d be out of his life again. For good this time. He gulped his own glass and asked her, “What are you doing here, Alexis?”

“Um …” Her heart was still racing; she didn’t want to cry, but being there brought back every painful memory she had in that cabin - every laugh, every look, every word. She swallowed hard and forced herself to talk. “I need the divorce papers; we never signed anything.”

“Of course,” he smiled bitterly; “you need to be divorced to get married again.”

She hugged herself, knowing how hard the situation was for both of them.

Drake poured himself another whiskey before adding contemptuously, “That’s a nice ring. I wonder when he bought it.” He downed the content of his glass in one gulp. “I wonder how long he had been waiting to make his move, to take you away from me.”

Alexis couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Do not speak of Liam like that! He was always a good, loyal friend to you and to me. He was the one here picking up the pieces when you left.” She hadn’t realized that she was almost yelling or that her eyes were full of tears. “You left and never once looked back!”

Her words infuriated him; he didn’t yell, but his voice was full of anger. “What the hell, Alexis? Did you just say that I left and didn’t come back? Me?”

She turned her back, angry - not only at him, at herself, too, at their damn fate that had played such a cruel, horrible joke on them.

He cut the distance between them and stood in front of her, making her face him. “I left?” he asked again. “And what about what you did?”

She recognized the pain in the eyes she had avoided looking at for so long, and the anger faded. “What if I say it’s my fault? What difference does it make? It doesn’t matter anymore.”

Drake shook his head, frustrated; as much as it still hurt, as much as he hated to admit it, they didn’t belong together anymore. “You’re right, it doesn’t.” He sighed; he was eager to see her leave and take all the painful memories with her. “Did you bring the papers?”

She took a deep breath before speaking. “It’s more complicated than that. We never made our separation official, so as far as the law is concerned, we’re still together.” He kept staring at her with his arms folded over his chest. His gaze made her extremely nervous, but she forced herself to finish what she needed to say. “I spoke with Rashad, we need to file an application and set a date with a judge for a … meeting.” She put a strand of hair behind her ear.

Drake frowned. “What kind of meeting?”

“It’s called an “attempted conciliation” meeting. It’s mandatory in Cordonia if we want things to go faster. After the meeting, we only have to wait 15 days to sign the papers and everything will be over.”

She seemed cold and distant, talking about the life that they had shared together like it was a simple legal procedure. “Send me the date and I’ll be there, the sooner the better.” He watched her twist his ring again and couldn’t avoid the surge of anger. “This marriage was a fucking mistake anyway.” He regretted his words as soon as he said them, but it was too late.

She looked at him sadly; he had never shown her cruelty before. “Maybe it was a mistake for you.” She took her purse and walked to the door.

“Alexis!” he called before she left. “It might have been a huge mistake; I don’t know. But I don’t regret a single minute of it.” He fixed his chocolate eyes on hers; she seemed so vulnerable again that he had to actively stop himself from taking her into his arms.

She answered through her tears, “Me neither, Drake. I don’t regret anything.” She threw a last glance at the floor upstairs and left.

She drove for a few miles until she was forced to pull over. Her hands were shaking; she couldn’t drive anymore. Forcing herself to steady her voice, she immediately called Liam because she knew how worried he would be about her. She told him that she was all right and that he should go to his meeting with Bertrand and Francesco; she would see him later at her apartment.

When she hung up, she called Max. He arrived an hour later with Olivia, and they took her to Maxwell’s loft in the capital.

“Something to drink?” Maxwell asked.

“Whiskey, double.” She took off her coat, still shaking.

“Here, Blossom.” She gulped it fast.

“Now, tell us everything, Alexis,” Olivia said while she prepared a vodka martini.

“It was so surreal to see him again. He looked …” she sighed, “older, obviously, but still very handsome.” She couldn’t avoid the sorrow in her eyes. “He hates me.”

Olivia arched her brow and simply stated, “Liam.”

She nodded. “Yes, partly,” she shrugged, “but he’s also angry about the last time we saw each other.” Her eyes watered, but she rubbed them hard. “I’m not going to cry. Liam is in the middle of some intense negotiations for the duchy; he doesn’t need to worry about me, too.”

“You can be so fucking frustrating, Alexis.” Olivia looked at her, exasperated.

Maxwell shook his head. “Bravo, Olivia, subtle.”

“I don’t give a damn if I’m subtle or not. Alexis, you need to stop worrying about Liam, or Drake, or anyone else, for that matter. How do you feel? What did you feel when you saw Walker?”

She stared back at her best friend, twisting her ring. “Nothing. I mean, I felt sad for us, and going back to the cabin, to the last place I saw Tho- … him was extremely hard. But I feel absolutely nothing for Drake anymore.”

Olivia squinted at her. “Please, Alexis. You saw Drake again. The man that we know you loved like crazy, who you shared your life with for five years, and you pretend that you didn’t feel anything? You’re shaking, for Christ’s sake. You need to talk, darling.”

Alexis turned to Maxwell for support, but he shrugged. “I don’t approve of her brutal interrogation techniques, but I agree with her; you had to feel something, Lexie. That doesn’t mean you’re being disloyal to Li.”

She dropped the glass on the table and stood up, angrily looking for her coat and purse. “I have no feelings for him anymore. Nothing. He left me without a fucking regret.”

Maxwell shook his head. “You know that’s not exactly true, Blossom. You know why he left.”

Alexis was furious. “I can’t even believe what I’m hearing. If you’ll excuse me, the man that loves me, that I love, is worried sick waiting for me. Have a good night.”

She left, slamming the door.

Liam spent the afternoon working in his office in Cordonia. He was very satisfied with the deal he had made with Francesco and the Italian government. He had already succeeded in making Valtoria the richest duchy in Cordonia, and his new goal was to transform it into the most successful business center on the Mediterranean coast.

While he was searching for the contracts, he came across the invitation Bertrand had given him for his fifth wedding anniversary party. He was in quite a conundrum; on the one hand, it would be inappropriate for them not to show up. Bertrand was his number two, his closest employee. On the other hand, Drake was back in Cordonia, and he was surely going to go too; after all, Savannah was his sister.

His memory drifted back to that day at the clinic. He had been so confident that it was the right thing to do that he hadn’t doubted his actions, but now he wasn’t so sure about it. Drake’s grief still haunted him. He wondered how their “reunion” had gone. He decided to cut his day short and go check on Alexis.

Her job as a freelance translator allowed her to work from wherever she wanted, but she spent most of her time in her city’s loft. Liam hoped she would easily accept her new role as the duchess of Valtoria when the time came, but he was aware that it was going to be a tough adjustment. As much as she tried to hide it, the weekly royal etiquette lessons she took with Regina were torture for her.

She was already in her room when he got home. He undressed and went to join her in bed. When she sensed his presence, she turned around and laid her head on his chest.

He caressed her face with the back of his hand. “How did it go, my love?” he asked softly.

“As bad as expected, but I don’t want to talk about it, Li.” She looked for his lips, and he immediately kissed her back.

He needed to claim her as much as she needed to forget. He took off her silky robe and made love to her passionately and lovingly, trying to make her forget about everything else.

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

Drake sat in front of the fireplace with Savannah's invitation in his hand. He refused to go back to those days where alcohol was the only thing he used to numb the pain. He let himself get lost in the flames while he thought about them, about all the nights they had spent exploring each other in front of that same fireplace. About all the stories she had read to him while she snuggled on his lap. And now that life was gone, and she was with Liam.

With Liam.

When Savannah had called him all those months ago, he had refused to believe it, but then she had sent him their picture in an email, and everything had fallen into place. Especially that last day at her clinic.

Well, if she could move on, he could do it too. He had a new life, a new job, and was dating someone new.

He had come back to Cordonia determined to get a semblance of a life back. He knew himself well enough to realize that he would never love again, or at least never with the same force, with the same intensity, but if he was going to fulfill the promise he had made at his grave, he needed a new life.

The job he had gotten at Ezequiel’s clinic was the first step; dating Kiara was step two. He wondered if he would truly forget her one day if one day he would wake up to realize she didn’t occupy his every thought. He certainly hoped so; she was marrying Liam soon.

A new family or kids weren’t even a possibility. He might forget Alexis one day, but he would never forget about Tom.

Tagging: @ao719 @yukinagato2012 @kingliam2019 @texaskitten30 @cordonia-gothqueen @bebepac @nomadics-stuff @hopefulmoonobject @gardeningourmet

Permatag: @ac27dj @twinkle-320 @kimmiedoo5 @marshmallowsandfire @loveellamae @burnsoslow @mskaneko @pedudley @fromthedeskofpaisleybleakmore @lauzales @pug-bitch

#tears in heaven #tw death #tw depression #tw suicide #axwalker writes

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shesawriter39049 · 5 years ago

Text

|ROLL DEEP|M| P.1

*Yoongi centered fic with a shared OT7 plot*

CH.1.1 CH. 1.2

**Operation: What’s eating blue!?***

_________________________________________________________

“Stop, this stopped being a you, thing and became a us thing the minute we chose to show up here tonight! You gave us an out and we stayed...we will always stay...”

1.2 K Sneak Peek

Pairing: Yoongi x OC

Genre: Sugar baby AU/Suspense/Smut/Angst/Roomate AU/FWB AU

WC: 7K

Nonsexual Warnings: Mentions of drug use (Molly/weed/)Strong language/ Alcohol addictions/ brief mentions/ speculations of domestic violence/abuse

Sexual Warnings: Oral (M & F receiving) power bottom Min Yoongi, cum play, breath play, spanking, dirty talk, Slight overestimation, sex toys (Cock rings....) Semi-public sex (A chill little blow job in the car) The sexual warnings are for both parts of CH.1 so the smut is split in half!

NOTE: Just to clarify the dynamic Yoongi and the OC are roommates who hookup on the side, they are BOTH sugar babies to two separate people! So yes, that would imply that Yoongi and some of the other boys who are also sugar babies are Bi. There is no MxM but there is mentions of it occasionally….as well as some harmless ot7 flirting! Also all of the boys are introed, Tae and Joon just play a lager part here!

_______________________________________________

I guess, fuck where do we even start? Maybe, will go back to where it all technically started, which was the last time things felt...somewhat normal yeah?

So, that would be...hmm...about 2 weeks shy of you heading into Junior year at USC right? The day your boys picked you up at the airport, and the three of your treated Blue, aka TaeTae to brunch!?

Well, wait let’s back track a little it all started much eariler than that, because you weren’t even aware of your brunch plans until later in the day. So Initially the day in question kicks of with you, in oversized blacked out CHLOE shades, hungover as fuck, sat in at the airport one Sunday afternoon. Smack dab in the middle of Terminal 6, in a bar called Blu2o sipping on a Bloody Mary, scrolling aimlessly through Snapchat. While simotaniously being told for the very first time ...that you’ll be attending a “Haute Couture” themed charity auction...on Tuesday! Yup, the day after tomorrow! Thank god he can’t see your damn face right now, biting down on your straw to muzzle yourself!

“No, babe it’s fine, I’ll just hit Rodeo tomorrow morning, and I’m sure my nail and lash girl can fit me-Oh you...haven’t gotten... what ...your wearing either?” Parroting the words back In slow motion as if it would make the words sound better or something!

Oh for fucks sake! Bringing your forehead flush to the marble bartop already feeling a full blown migraine brewing at the nape of your neck. Giving yourself a couple moments to self compose, this man is so damn unorganized it’s unfucking real. His personal assistant better be the 2nd highest paid person within his entire company because…..This is far from new, I don’t even know why your suprised and I’d say you don’t get paid enough for this....but ya do! So you suck it up, lose the attitude and slip right into your “Yes sir” or maybe I should say ‘Yes daddy” voice.

“Don’t worry about it, I know your busy. I totally get it, your a 28 waist right? Of course, I remember...I remember everything you tell me….Ohhh your gonna let me put you in color too???” Eyes flickering up to the notification from your bank, noting a cute little 12k wire pending.

“Yeah, no, I see it, that should be good. I was thinking Versace or Cavili for you anyway...they have good prints to fit the theme, and if all else fails I have my card too…yup..just landed about..hmm... 30 minutes ago actually. Of course, stop apologizing, Sunday's are always your golf days, I get it, hey, tell the guys I said hi and enjoy your day. Text me later if you feel up to it..k....bye..”

Were you actually getting a little flustered there towards the end? It's the slight accent, isn't it? Honestly, it didn't take much for you to slip into “character” with him, even after barely being together a full month. For one he wasn’t an asshole, had a decent sense of humor, and he’s really fuckin hot...however there was one, little, well shit, not so little issue...you noticed while with him recently. Which, then sparked quite a few questions while also answering some that had been rattling through your head since the day you met. But will circle back to the fact that you spent a week on vacation with a man, while dressed in some of the sexiest pieces of 2019 couture! Yet..you barely got touched once outside of a couple chaste kisses and hand-holding while at the two fashion shows you attended together… so, yeah, yeah!

A low groan in frustration rattled from your throat as you continued scrolling through Snapchat, trying to come up with some possible outfit scenarios in your head! It’s kinda funny, how mynute all of that seems now though, how your definition of “Stress” that day was you trying to decide if your sugar daddy was gay, while also finding time to fit in a self-care day, shopping, and getting your books for school!! The fact that, that was what you considered migraine worthy, fuck, what you wouldn’t give to consider multitasking your only maltitude of “stress” again …..

Just in your own little world, mind swirling with a couple of stylists you’ve met along the way, considering the idea of them pulling some vintage pieces for you instead! What you should be doing, is scrolling through your contact list and texting said stylists, instead you find yourself more and more distracted. Getting lost in the mounds of snap updates from Jimin as he “modestly” sunbathed in a private villa in Italy. Then later sharing a glimpse into his shopping spree from Versace, no doubt a good 20k worth of Italian luxury spread out along the plush white sheets. Sending him a cheeky little “That’s my boy” with a couple of smug winky faces in response!

It’s still kinda crazy to think, things like that are considered normal within your world now, the fact that you aren’t even surprised at the number of gifts. Or, simply the fact that your barley 21-year-old best friend is sunbathing in Italy on someone else’s dime. Then again, you just got sent 12 thousand dollars to spend on an event that would last maybe all of 5 hours, while sitting next to a stack of Louis Vuittion luggage from your first class flight in from Vegas, technically. Opting to land there first after a long 15-hour flight, checking in at The Four Seasons for not even a solid 24 hours before coming home! Honestly?There was no real reason for the pit stop except it gave you an excuse to see a friend while also allowing you to unwind in one of your favorite hotels!

That sentence alone is actually absurd when you really think about it, the idea of you casually booking flights and suites in 5-star hotels as if you’re ordering off the damn dollar menu at Mcdonalds! You, the girl that was working two jobs at the Groove and mourning a piece of shit cheating ex boyfriend her freshman year of college.....is now reminiscing about catching flights to chill with friends and last minute finding dresses for Couture themed galas.Like, what the actual fuck is life.... Oh my bad, life at the moment is constantly being paranoid that you and your friends will get arrested! Life in this moment however...was a fucking perfect!

The friend you where meeting in Vegas was Hoseok by the way, the redhead was currently vacationing in Sin City for the next couple of days, typically residing in LA as well. Just Chillin’ before the semester starts, living his best life, which revolves around “OFF-WHITE'' shopping sprees, private dance lessons, and constantly taking thirst trap pics for his 10’s of thousands of followers online. He randomly texts you saying “I miss your face” you text him saying “I land at 8 tonight bring a bottle and sushi to room 605 at The Four Seasons hotel '' Simple!

Your initial flight, the one that was 15 hours, was originally from Paris, where you spent the last week or so with Jeong-su, being arm candy, sipping wine, sightseeing and of course shopping!. Barley 32 hours ago your Snapchat looked pretty damn similar, if not worse in comparison to Jimin’s but what can I say, you can’t be in the home of Givenchy and Gaulthier and not go to Givenchy and Gaultier!

What your life is, what you and your friends do, I mean, I think it’s safe to say it’s pretty self-explanatory yeah? The average 20 something-year-old in college isn't flying themselves out of the country or going luxury shopping without a little help. In your case, it’s typically thanks to a person you commonly refer to as “Daddy” now, the context behind the word however….is where you and your friends may differ from others…..

But that’s your business, your concern and more importantly your choice, and honestly for a while life seemed too damn good to be true...I guess looking back on it now, I guess that’s because it kinda was!

Sat at the predominantly empty bar alone, more than content by the silence, twirling your straw between your lips, as you scanned back over the shit show that was your schedule for the semester! Getting more of a migraine from that, then shopping or even the fact that you're still hungover and drinking on an empty stomach at half-past 12. Shooting a quick text to your redheaded best friend cursing him out for getting you drunk off your ass on a bottle of Yamazaki 12.

“Can I get anything else for you beautiful? Another drink or maybe an appetizer? We have damn good loaded queso fries if I do say so myself!” Waving the menu in your face playfully, the warm, inviting voice in front of you was the bartender, who’s had his eye on you since you swayed in. Even if you looked like crap for your standards you knew to most you were the farthest thing from it as you swayed into the bar like you owned the place. In your heels, and tiny little black dress, while an airport assistant trolied in your luggage behind you! Ohhh Blair Waldorf would without a doubt be proud!

“Mmmm…” Lips pursed in a slight pout as you raked over the menu, honestly, you were hungry and they have bomb ass fried pickles…..”Actually, yeah, I’ll get-”

“ 3 tall shots of whatever top-shelf Tequila you have, also add whatever she’s been drinking to my tab, along with an order of fried pickles with extra ranch…please and thank you!” Smoothly sliding his black card, and ID across the marble bartop for review.

Oh.

The look on the bartender’s face was fucking priceless, torn between shitting himself and maybe….nah, just straight shitting himself! Skin flushed, the sense of panic was clear as day, wondering if he’d overstepped that fine line between customer service and filtration. Considering whoever the person behind you is, clearly knows you well enough to know your food order. A forced bashful smile playing along his lips as he bowed out in acknowledgment, sliding the gentelmen back is ID and whispering out a faint “Yes sir, coming right up…”

The base vibrating through your ears instantly had you readjusting your posture, a strong tingle running down your spine, back arching ever so slightly. A playful smirk playing along your lips as you slowly laced your tongue back around your staw, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“You sure you wanna do that? My tastes are pretty expensive..” Tone blatantly flirtatious, yet you still hadn’t bothered to even turn around, that’s when suddenly you hear a deep arrogant chuckle rumbling low in his chest. Only...this sounds a little brighter? And like it’s coming from your left instead of behind you…

“Mmm, I’m sure we can handle it baby….”

You could feel the air shift behind you, it felt warmer, and there was a strong mix of scents flooding through your nose. Leaning back in your seat, pleasantly finding your shoulders, the back of your neck, and your head, cradled against a lean wall of silk. Sighing contently, naturally letting your body melt into his frame, nose running into your face as you smiled so hard your cheeks hurt. That’s when a gangle of veiny, porcelain limbs wrapped around your shoulders pulling you even tighter against him, only to find brown, sharp, cat-like eyes staring down at you, though a pair of translucent designer shades. Seemingly a little bit amused at how excited you are to see him. Long dark wavy locks falling messily into his face, a tiny silver hoop dawning his button nose. Tongue playing at the corner of his mouth, letting the tiny silver ball slip between his lips. This angle lets you really appreciate how sharp, yet soft his features were, an oxymoron that honestly makes no damn sense unless you see him in person….jawline sharp enough to cut glass yet he has the cutest cheeks ever when he smiles. It honestly makes no sense whatsoever and he’s one of the many reasons you have trust issues. Well, that and your line of work, considering the number of men you find out are married and still try and sneak around with you.

Then, as if to just make his presence known, there’s another pair of hands making their home along your body, gently squeezing your thigh. Except, he’s polar opposite to the person I just described, the man behind you is your roommate Yoongi, the man who just took a seat to your left, is your other roommate Namjoon! First off, he’s tall as all hell, and an offensively perfect shade of brown, he can’t even go into the burbs without being asked what self-tanner he uses. In which he smugly replies “Genetics” letting them sit there and try and google said company that makes that brand of self-tan. Streams of meticulously placed colored neo-traditional tattoos paint his skin, accompanied by deep dimples, and bleach blonde hair styled into an undercut, sides buzzed into the perfect fade.

“So you gonna get up and give me a real hug or what???” Placing a kiss in your hair as he pulled back, giving you room to hop out of your seat and right into his arms.

The Full thing is coming soon, this is from summer 2019, I just have to edit, and reread the full thing again! I also wrote the first 3 parts all at once..sooo if your exicted show this some love anddddddddd come let me know!

Love you as always,

Rocki

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