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prettiestgrlinthemorguexo · 4 months

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Swipe (Lucifer morningstar x reader)

Description: after his divorce, he finally gets back into the dating game…through a dating app :)

Please note I’m writing this before the release of ep7 and ep8 so-

Takes place between ep 5 and right before ep 6

I wrote nearly 98% of this at like 3 AM-

Part 1 of 3

Warning: Lucifer being a dork, Lucifer being a dorky dad, age gap(reader died at like 25 and Lucifer is like a good few thousands years old so), talk of divorce, Charlie being a supportive daughter, I’ve never used a dating apps so i might get info wrong, Lucifer doesn’t know modern day technology or slang, lying, Lucifer straight up cat fishing reader,

No one’s POV

Lucifer was a wreck after his divorce with Lilith. Becoming the shell of the man he was, going from a family-oriented to a man who barely talk to anyone. After visiting his daughter and her hotel, he knew he had to be there, he already missed so much he wasn’t gonna miss another second of it. Becoming the best father he could also meant moving on, it’s been seven years since the separation. Charlie knew her Dad had been in pain since the divorce but she could tell, he was trying and she was going to be there.

Lucifer’s POV

“Charlie, are you sure about this?” I ask still hesitant, I knew Charlie just wanted to help and had the best intentions, but a dating app? “Of course!” Charlie exclaimed, face lite up. “It’s perfect! You get to meet people without the face to face interactions!” Charlie said downloading the app, viva by Voxtech.

Charlie’s was more excited than I was, I wanted to meet people but an app? I can’t help but feel my heart race and my body get heavy, why was I this nervous. In the middle of my overthinking Charlie handed me the phone, it had a profile made it had my name and many details. It felt like I was giving it to all 9 rings of hell! “Ok! How we gotta add some photos an-“

“Charlie!”

We both turned are head to see Alastor and Vaggie standing there. “Can you help with something real quick?” Vaggie ask seeming annoyed. “Of course!” Charlie’s called back before as standing up. “You go ahead and add those photos dad I’ll be back!” Charlie said as she ran to the two, leaving me alone on the couch staring at the screen.

I read over the info and it all was so…personal. How would anyone be comfortable putting this much out? I Don’t get me started with being the King of Hell it’s self, then an idea popped in my head. I turn my head slightly to see Charlie still talking to the pair so I decided to take matters into my own hands. I added photos of my duck inventions and made a duck with a white top hat as my ‘icon’. Now onto the name, Lucifer was too out there everyone would know, think! L names that are similar.

Lucifer..

Luci…

Luc…

Luca..

Luca! I instantly think changing the name quickly, removing the last name from the profile along with it. After that it looked like a normal profile. When I finished and satisfied with it Charlie was walking back over. “Sorry bout that dad! Now back to w-.” While she was speaking I shove my phone in my pocket and stand up. “No it’s fine! I set it up!” I nearly screamed it out as I stood from the couch. Charlie stared at me shock for a moment before her normal bright smile returned to her face. “Wow that’s great!” She said as she walked over “Look at you getting the hang of technology!” Charlie said happily. I didn’t know why I was so nervous by an app, but it was on my mind. After finishing talking to Charlie I was able to leave, soon I was back in my bedroom. I let out a sigh and feel onto the massive bed and pulled out my phone, Viva still open.

Y/N POV

Left..Left..Left..

God this app was a never ending app of swiping left on people wanting hook-ups was tiring. This was the last time I’d take F/N advice and use a dating app, the fact they exist in hell was already surprising. It was nude after nude of people looking for a hookup. Then something different popped up, instead of the naked body I almost have gotten used to, I was greeted by a rubber duck with a white top hat. My eyes widen a bit as I layed there I swipped to look at the second photo, more ducks. I then moved and read the bio. “Luca..” I said quietly to myself reading the short info. I looked at the photos and the bio, it stood out in the sea of profile, i stair a while longer…

…Right.

“CONGRATS! YOU GOT A MATCH!” Popped up on my screen in red shades, with the little duck icon. “…that was quick” I think to myself. I click on the little message option.

Y/N - Hi :)

No ones POV

Lucifer layed there looking at the profiles, this was dating. More like brothel. He could barely understand, after swiping left a few times he chose to just turn off his phone, it was a mistake to think an app could help. Almost as soon as Lucifer sat his phone down his phone went off, illuminating the room …then it went off again.

Lucifer raised an eyebrow picking up his phone to see two notifications, both from Viva. Seeing a match with someone named Y/N and a message from them. Lucifer felt himself lose the ability to breathe, “A match?” Lucifer asked himself, confused on what that meant, he open the Add to be greeted my the words “CONGRATS! YOU GOT A MATCH!” And the icon that belong to Y/N.

The icon was a photo of Y/N. Lucifer’s eyes lit up and he finally let out a breath. He admired their features. Their H/C H/L that looked perfect, their E/C eyes drew him in. He clicked the image see their profile, he was greeted my a normal photo of you, it stood out. Lucifer saw the message illuminating in corner of the screen, he let out a breath and opened the message and saw a simple

Y/N - “Hi :)”

I sat their staring at the message before typing himself

Luca - Hi

Time skip (why? Because I fucking said so.)

Over the past few weeks, Lucifer and Y/N talked every day. Learning every little detail of each other. Lucifer learned about your job, your friends, how you lived and how you died even. He couldn’t help but want to know everything.

Y/N learned he had a daughter and that he’d been “recently divorced”, his words not theirs. Y/N learned that he loves ducks and creating new duck toys, he was a big dork, like a big puppy dog. Of course you didn’t know you were talking to Lucifer himself, you thought you were talking to a man named Luca…

During Lucifer’s now frequent visit to his daughter and her little Hazbin hotel, Charlie couldn’t help but notice how her dad was one his phone more then usual, usual being never. Naturally, Charlie was curious. “Sooo..” Charlie started, a little unsure what to say about her fathers new found internet obsession. “Who are you talking to?” Charlie ask curious.

Lucifer was quick to meet his daughters eyes and quickly put his phone face down on the table . “No one!” He said in an almost scream, before it buzzed again..and again…and again. Charlie eyes went between her dads now sweating face and and his phone. Before Lucifer could even react, Charlie reached for his phone. “Wait!” Lucifer said reaching for his phone from her hands, the phone screen lite up and Charlie was greeted my 4 notifications from someone named Y/N from Viva. Charlie gasp turning quickly turning to face him, Charlie’s face lite up like Christmas lights. “YOUR TALKING TO SOMEONE?!” Charlie squealed from excitement, since she helped set up his password she quickly opened his phone to see more.

“Charlie don’t-“ Lucifer started to say before seeing her face fall from its happy to confused. “Wait..” Charlie said looking at his profile, “why is your name ‘Luca’?” Charlie ask her eyes moving from his phone finally to be greeted with Lucifer’s red face “well…,” Lucifer started, “I wasn’t comfortable putting my name and photo on there so…I put a different name and photo.” Charlie’s face went from suprise to more annoyed, not angry, just disappointed. “Dad you can’t just do that!” Charlie said to her father, her free rubbing her face. “You can’t just catfish her!”

Lucifer looked confused, catfish? Like the animal? “Catfish?” Lucifer asked, truly not understanding the term. “Yes dad you can’t just lie about who you are to someone like that!” Charlie said scolding her father. Lucifer after that was able to put two and two together, the weight of what he’s been hit him like a bus. “Dad,” Charlie said letting out a sigh, “you have to come clean to them.” She said as she handed him his phone. “Char ITS not that easy!” Lucifer said taking the phone from then hand seeing them newest text, her caring words, them asking if he he’s eaten, remind him to take care of himself, her word hit his heart hard. “It’s not a normal situation, I’m the king of hell, not some random sinner!” Lucifer said he eyes not leaving the illuminated screen. “Dad, they’re gonna find out sooner or later, it’s better if you do it now, early into you talking then later..”

Lucifer stated quiet, he knew deep down she was right, he did truly like them and want more with them, he could only imagine how you’d react if he waited much longer it’s already been a few weeks… Lucifer let out a sigh and looked up at his daughter. “your right..” he said quietly, “I’ll tell them just…give me time..” Charlie stared for a moment before letting before smiling again. “Just do it soon dad…” Lucifer knew she was right.

Later that night Lucifer layed in his bed, looking at her last message, contemplating how to tell them, shoudl he texted it, no they’d think he’s joking, “maybe…” he though out loud. “A FaceTime..?” He asked himself, no, he didn’t even know how to start one… maybe…a date? You’d know he wasn’t lying about being satan himself, he could explain better then over a device and he could only imagine how beautiful you were in person… Lucifer looked down at the message you last send hesitation purged his mind, but slowly he began to type.

Luca - hey, can I ask you something?

Y/N - of course ask anything! :)

Luca - I was thinking he could go out sometime? Like a date going out.

After a a minute he saw you typing a new message. He could already feel his heart race a mile a minute, he felt a cold sweat form. Why was he so nervous? Then a little buzz when off, it was you he was hesitant but swipe to open the message.

Y/N - wait really? You wanna go on a date with me??

Lucifer swallowed the lump in his throat before typing with shaky fingers.

Luca - yes Y/N I really do.

Y/N - Yes I’d love to!! ❤️

Lucifer’s eyes lit up seeing you answer in only seconds, he can’t help but feel his heart flutter at the simple heart emoticon. Soon you both planned to meet for dinner the next night at a nice restaurant, named killer appetite, closer to the center of pentagram city, then he hit him…you both were actually going on a date. Together…

Y/N’s POV

When I saw his message asking me out, I could have screamed. He actually wanted to see me! I quickly typed and agreed to it. We chose dinner at a nice high end restaurant closer to the center of the city, I’ve heard of the place it was up scale. I was so ecstatic.

The next day at work couldn’t have gone slower, it felt like every minute was a hour long but as soon as that clock hit five, I was out the door racing home to get ready.As soon I was ready, my hair and outfit was perfect. I was quick out the door to the restaurant. On my way I received a message from Luca.

Luca - hey! Placed a reservation under L.M.

“L.M?” I asked myself, wondering what it meant, maybe his initials? I smile and replied ok,only a few minutes later I was at the restaurant, even though it was only 7 the restaurant was lively, full and packed. I walked over to the hostess stand.

“Hi, there should be a reservation for L.M?” I felt nervous, a mix of because of how busy it is and meet him…when I said the name of the reservation the hostess gave changed a mix of nervousness and excitement. “Of course! Right this way!” She said trying to put on a happy face but the nerves over shadowed that, she let me to a table already set up in a quieter area, almost completely different from the bustling atmosphere of the restaurant. “your server will be with you shortly, please enjoy!” She said as she raced out the room. I staired at the entrance way confused, why was that girl so nervous, and to have such a secluded area on a Friday night, it was unusual…

I sat down at the table that faced the entrance way. I pulled out my phone to text me.

Y/N - Hey! I just sat down! We have a really nice table, are you almost here? :)

I saw he read the text but no reply, I felt nervous again, my eyes kept watching my phone, my mouth was dry. But then I heard a voice “sorry I’m late..” the voice sounded nervous. I look up to a short blonde man. My eyes widen and my mouth is dry…

I was looking at Lucifer himself…

TAG LIST

@reverse-soe @kazurami14 @netheris @rainycloud858

#x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x reader #lucifer morningstar x you #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel

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harmonictechnicality · 1 year

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Steve wakes up around three or four in the morning almost every night. He’s always careful getting out of bed. Small movements, slow footsteps. Minimal bones cracking. Doesn’t want to wake Eddie. Not that he needs to be this careful because his boyfriend could sleep through several natural disasters (and if someone bothered to wake him in this scenario, he’d put an impotency curse on them or some equally fucked-up shit).

But that’s one of the reasons why they work. Not because of the sad-dick curse thing. They just exist on different sides of the scale. The raging insomniac and the deepest sleeper known to mankind. It balances out in the weirdest possible way.

Still… he’s always careful. Can never be too careful.

Steve doesn’t really do much when he wakes up at this ungodly hour. He sort of walks around their duplex, drinks a glass of water, opens a window to breathe in that pre-sunrise air. It fills his lungs up differently than normal air. At least, it feels like it does.

Like less people are breathing it in. Like he can take up space without feeling selfish. The logic doesn’t really add up but whatever. Concepts like logic and science are overrated at four in the morning.

After another lap around the place, he slides back into the covers, drapes an arm over Eddie’s waist. His t-shirt is rumpled up to his chest, so Steve is met with linen-warm skin. His fingers curve into Eddie’s sides, pulling himself closer.

Steve yawns, breathing out all of his pre-sunrise air. Inhales the scent of his boyfriend instead. Smiles like an idiot into the pillow because it’s totally a fair trade.

And Eddie… well, he doesn’t even budge - doesn’t even stir when Steve settles in next to him. He just continues to wheeze through his nose, mouth slightly open. Not quite a snore, but Steve will probably tease him about it in the morning regardless.

This right here. This makes Steve’s shitty sleep cycle worth it.

The sun pokes through the window blinds. Eddie pokes Steve’s cheek. Too much poking going on for Steve who definitely didn’t get enough sleep, per usual.

“You got up last night.” Eddie mumbles, still lazily poking him.

“How’d you know?”

“Bed felt different.”

Oh. The way Eddie says it. A crash of honesty. His voice sounds weathered, unused from sleeping. Barely awake. It sort of hits Steve’s heart like a crime he didn’t even know he was capable of committing.

Honestly, he doesn’t get why last night would be any different. Steve gets up most nights, not just last night. But Eddie looks particularly wounded by this (new) realization, so Steve probably shouldn’t point that out right now. Maybe in the afternoon when Eddie is more alert. Less… offended.

“Well, I’m back now.” Steve grabs Eddie’s index finger, the one poking him, and places it over his own lips. Bites at it gently till Eddie pulls away in protest. He’s smiling as he swears. Lets out a string of half-hearted threats about how he’s gonna pour Steve’s hair supplies down the sink for such a vicious attack.

It’s a little irresistible when Eddie gets like this. When he’s the pouty one instead of Steve. All he can think to do is reach out, curl his hand underneath Eddie’s chin and pull him in. Eddie moves so easily, gives up his one-sided fight long enough to kiss Steve. Hands running up his back, legs hooking around Steve’s thighs.

Drowsy, morning kisses are so good. So, so good. Their lips feel heavier, their motions feel thicker. Every touch is guided by pure need. Steve fucking needs this, to feel Eddie curving into him, arms framing his own, groaning every damn time they break away. It all makes Steve feel needed too. Needed by the guy who changed the trajectory of his life by asking Steve to ‘hang out or something’ two years ago.

Or Something turned out to be absolutely everything.

“New rule.” Eddie huffs, drags his lips down Steve’s jaw. “For every hour you spend awake during the night, you owe me.”

Steve laughs. “I owe you, huh?”

“Mhmm. You owe me an extra hour of wallowing in bed together in the morning.”

“What about work?”

“The hours will have to rollover, I guess. Accrue interest.” Eddie lifts up from Steve’s neck, eyebrows raised. Clearly having too much fun with this. “We can hash out the details over coffee and burnt toast.”

Typically, Steve would play along, continue the little comedy routine that Eddie starts up. But he’s so damn tired from the lack of sleep and early fucking wake-up call. So instead, he tugs Eddie back down by his collar and whispers, “Whatever you say, baby.”

Because that’s what it boils down to. He’d do anything for Eddie to kiss him this deep, till their lips blister and their jaws ache. Steve would give every fragment of lovesick happiness in his heart, just to hear the way Eddie says his name all breathy and raw.

He can’t say that out loud, dear god no. Eddie would mock his ass into next century. So Steve just hums into Eddie’s mouth, twists the collar of his shirt enough to permanently wrinkle it. They’re verging into that gray area between cable-approved makeout sessions and dry humping till the alarm goes off. If there wasn’t an alarm to worry about, Steve would already have Eddie’s boxers already his ankles and moaning his name the way he likes it best.

Whoever invented alarm clocks are the ultimate boner-killer.

Steve ducks his head into the crook of Eddie’s neck, lays a few quick kisses on top of his shoulder. Hopes that translates to, ‘I wanna suck you off till there’s nothing left, but I’m a boring fucking adult with a boring fucking job.’

The translation must be clear enough because Eddie rolls off of him and heads to the bathroom. Seems just as grumpy about it as Steve. Good. They can be cranky together.

When he comes back out, they get ready for their respective work shifts. Steve looks over, watches Eddie struggle with a tangled portion of his hair, before giving up. Accepting defeat way faster than Steve ever would. “Uh, Eddie?” He tries his best to hide his snickering through the question.

“Yeah?”

“Why does it matter if I wake up sometimes?” Okay. Most times.

“You’re gone.” Eddie shrugs. “Simple as that.”

The reaction is too mellow for Eddie though. Shrugging and dismissiveness? Nah. He’s downplaying the shit out of whatever he’s feeling, and Steve’s not having it.

“What do you mean it’s simple?”

“It’s just… I don’t know. Doesn’t seem fair.” Eddie checks the clock, then sighs. “I want more time.”

More time? More time with Steve or more time in general? Either way, it doesn’t add up. They’re young - they have all the fucking time they could ever want. Also, they live together and have all the same friends. It’s not exactly a logical theory.

Then again, neither is Steve’s ‘pre-sunrise air supply’ theory. None of it makes sense. But at least they’re here. Wanting fresh air and each other. That’s enough logic for a lifetime.

“Hey.” Steve walks over and takes Eddie’s hand. He taps over his ring finger, the one that symbolizes something they can’t have. Not now, not in this society. Still. It means something. So he stares intently at it, rubs over the place where a ring might sit. Thinks that Eddie would pick out something bold. Something gaudy and perfectly him.

More time. Steve gets it, he does. He releases Eddie’s hand and nods. Smiles.

“I’ll steal us as much time as I can, Eddie Munson.”

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #this is the first little thing I've written since submitting my Big Bang draft #it’s a lot softer than my normal stuff but hey #insomnia writing do be like that sometimes #(so yeah - I projected my sleep problems onto Steve)#(and yeah - I projected my tangly hair onto Eddie)#let me liveeeeeeee

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miserycanary · 14 days

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MISSION: LOVE KILL ᡣ𐭩 [trailer]

pairings: Simon 'Ghost' Riley & fem!reader

synopsis: the trailer to my very first full-length series set in a soulmate AU.

pairings: (applies to future parts) angst, smut, fluff, mutual pining, misunderstandings, rivals to lovers to rivals, featuring Ghost's inability to communicate, graphic mentions of violence, might hint to sexual violence, BARELY PUT TOGETHER, torture, one bed trope, i-will-wait-for-you trope, loving-you-is-like-breathing trope, slowburn (unless I get bored and rush this), poor poor attempt in crack, will add more as we go on

The subtle searing pain on the back of his neck is enough reason for Ghost to hate the idea of soulmates existing. It wasn’t just the fact that he has lived up to his 30s feeling like a fire wasp is buzzing under his skin, it was that the government fully developed their system with pairs in mind. You mean to tell him that he has to have found his partner—who’s probably cities or even continents away—just so that he could fucking own property? Utter fucking bullshit, he calls it.

‘Nutjobs! The lot of them’

It was also the fact he had to watch his mum’s so-called soulmate almost beat them up to death each day. How could someone whose single purpose in life is to torment them be his mother’s soulmate? Fate either has a weird take on the concept of love and the whole shenanigan or it’s fucking wicked. Either way, the S-word has left a bad taste in his mouth—and memory. He would rather die, not having property—or anything really—to his name if it means that he wouldn’t comply to the fucking standards of pairs.

Or so he thought because, once again, life is fucking wicked like that.

When he first broke the news that he would be retiring from the army, he expected his future days ahead full of smooth-sailing lounging. Maybe a cup of tea in hand or even some biscuits if he was feeling fancy. Imagine his shocked face when he inquired with a real-estate agent to finally have something to call home, no longer needing to stay by some cheap hotel with what his little pay could afford, that he cannot fucking do that!

“Yeah, this would be good. Really nice stuff here,” Ghost gruffs. “Yeah? Well, let’s get started then. Um, here are the paperworks that you need to fill out. Uhh, you just need to input your government code and your partner’s. It is policy that you bring your pair in with you when it comes to legal documents, but I’m sure that we could make an exception for our veteran here,” the agent smiles; one that Ghost did not reciprocate. “I ain’t got a missus with me. Haven’t found them yet.”

It was a simple explanation, not wanting to dwell too much on his reasons. Before he could even take the papers in his hand, the man retracts. Confusion etched on Ghost’s face while pity is on the man’s. “Oh, I am really sorry but you are legally required to have a partner before you could own property—or anything for that matter.” Ghost looked this agent for a good few minutes, anticipating the ‘sike’ that he desperately wishes to hear but only dead silence echoes. “Surely you could, say, make an except for a veteran?” he nervously chuckles out, trying to weasel his way into a fucking home. Nothing. Dead fucking silence that’s heavy with pity. Ghost loathes it.

Without even saying a word, he turns his back and starts walking towards the car he rented today, because you can’t even own a car in this government! He should have flagged it as weird when the lady in the car shop insists that he should rent first before buying something. So, now he sits in the dingy bar that Soap has dragged him into after he informed the force that he would not be settling anytime soon. After explaining his circumstance, he expected them to react like he did before, but no. They all replied like they knew this. Even saying stuff like, “you didn’t know?” Of course he didn’t! It wasn’t like Ghost was invested in property or anything for that matter while he was serving. All he cared about was surviving each day, and that is it.

“Aye, cheer up, lad. Life ain’ that bad. Ya’ just gotta get them lassie, and all yer problems would go away,” the Scot on his right drunkenly offers advice—a shit one at that. Did he really think Ghost hasn’t stepped foot on every land they got deployed with heavy hopes that he’ll find whoever he needs to find there? He fucking hates it here. He should have not retired this early if he knew this would happen. Now he needs to go around the world and search for the lassie whose presence—or her lack thereof—is the root of all his problems.

If finding a needle in a haystack is hard, imagine finding a lady that’s probably moving countries as he speaks with Soap. “Yeah, like that’s fucking easy,” he scoffs, rolling his eyes before lifting his mask just enough to down his shot of whiskey. The fiery burn of the alcohol down his throat is nothing compared to the one on his neck. He would rather have it cut at this point than to go on about this miserable lifetime any longer.

“Should I just cut and peel it off?” he mumbles to no one in particular; probably to Fate if that shit is listening. Seeing that no one else in the rundown bar is really paying attention to him, Soap takes the honour in replying to him instead. “According tae what I’ve seen, jobby pain is hee haw compared tae th' pain ye will feel in yer heart. Doctors say that th' pain goes tae th' heart instead while tripling”. Unprompted, Ghost curses like a fucking sailor. Saying stuff that will probably get him on the government's watchlist if he wasn’t part of the military serving this goddamn country. He risks his life daily and this is what he gets? Ungrateful bastards.

With a slam of the glass on the mahogany table, he stands up with a new profound determination. “Fuck it, I’m finding that missus if it’s the last thing that I do”. “Eyy, that’s the spirit, matie,” Soap drunkenly encourages him, which should have been the first red flag on this idea. Any idea supported by Soap is an immediate botch.

Well, what could go wrong? He’s retired anyway.

Turns out, many could go wrong. Well, here’s to the fucking shit-show of his life.

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱: please give this love!!

dividers by @cafekitsune

Please reblog!! Ask is open!

⟢ taglist is open!! @hotvinimon

check out my other works in the masterlist: ୭!

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junicult · 1 year

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bachelors stances on period sex and if they’d be down……………

!! period sex w the bachelors

contains ; period sex, duh. afab!farmer. smut. nsfw. fingering. shower sex tehe. use of toys. masturbation. dirty talk & whatnot. not proofread!

note ; oh u did something w this one. & spoiler alert, they all are.

harvey.

- …😇

- i’m sweating.

- if u think he wouldn’t then you are lying to urself. fully.

- are u fr??? he could not care LESSS😭😭😭😭

- in fact, he’s absolutely down.

- period cramps hurt. he knows this, because he’s a doctor and he actually understands women.

- now, he’ll firstly try to see if there’s anything he can give you to help you.

- a heating pad, a massage, literally anything you need. he’ll run out and get food if that’s all u want.

- but i don’t think he’d ever ask if you’d wanna have sex first.

- mainly because he knows it’s not everyone’s thing, and it can get messy and some people think it’s gross. (😒)

- he, however, is not that kind of person.

- he knows that sex helps relieve period pain, sooooo

- if ur down, he’s down. he’s sooo down.

- honestly, he couldn’t even care less. your period just means your body is working, and you’re healthy. knowing that is all he needs to go about this day.

- it isn’t even something he really considers if you’re about to have sex. it’s just something he notices during.

- and if you’re insecure about it, (which all he wants to do is assure you there is no reason to be) he won’t pressure you at all.

- he can understand why you’d be insecure or nervous, but to him it means literally nothing. towels exist for a reason.

- but it was just one of those days, when you were nearly bedridden after speeding through your chores.

- your heating pad rested on your back and lower stomach, laying at an awkward angle on your bed with just the largest frown on your face.

- you were so uncomfortable, and all he wanted to do was make you feel better.

- “is there anything i can do for you, honey?” he asks sweetly from where he stood next to you, gently running his hand up and down your arm.

- and u think for a second.

- not bc of what he said, but bc ur not sure if u wanna give him ur answer rn.

- “…maybe.”

- “anything. what is it?” he lowers to his knees and presses a kiss on your hand.

- your lips pulled into a pout, eyes softly batting towards him while you contemplate what you’re thinking.

- “well…doesn’t, y’know…sex…help with cramps…n stuff?”

- he can’t help but smile a little.

- another little thing is, i feel like he just loves when u get all shy abt affection. just cus he always does, so it’s refreshing to realize u have ur moments just like him.

- u don’t even have to say more. he’s walking to the closet to pull out a couple towels, making the bed secure just to make it easier so neither of u have to clean the sheets.

- and he’s treating u so delicately, bc ur still in discomfort. he doesn’t wanna add more to that.

- but trust me

- red may mean stop but not in his case‼️

- ur period is also means ur hormones are heightened, which also means ur libido increases.

- so not only is this making u feel better, it’s also making u feel so fucking good.

- not just bc he knows what he’s doing.

- now, it’s not just sex that helps with cramps.

- it’s the orgasm that really matters. and ur in a lot of pain…so ur gonna get a looott of relief.

sam.

- doesn’t give a singlleee fuck.

- in his mind it doesn’t register as, “oh, she’s on her period and she wants to have sex😒” it’s more of a, “yay my pretty girlfriend wants to have sex with me😊😊”

- so like, it’s just instant flattery anytime you come onto him.

- it’s not hard to get him in the mood if ur alr horny.

- you don’t even have to try hard. usually you can just walk up to him, give him a little kiss on the lips and just ask.

- that alone has him grinning and following you to the bedroom.

- so if you’re pressing against your sides, groaning in discomfort over your cramps and stuff,

- all you have to do is sigh and mumble, “baby i’m so uncomfortable. d’you wanna do something?” and he’ll probably just perk up, thinking you need some water or another heating pad or something.

- “what’s up? i can help!” he’s jumping to his feet, ready to head out and get whatever u need.

- “no, no nothing like that,” you mumble, sitting up to your knees on the couch.

- “like…do something. it’ll help with my pain,” your smile is faint, and the way your fingers begin to play with the hem of his shirt has him raising his eyebrows.

- “yeah! will it hurt, tho?”

- he doesn’t fully understand how your period works, i’m gonna be honest with you.

- but once you assure him it actually feels really good, and much better, then he’s plenty more excited.

- occasionally he’ll remember to lay out towels, but usually the sheets will need to be washed lol.

- he’s adorable. he becomes much more affectionate because he knows you’re just feeling miserable, and he wants to take your mind off of it.

- kissing all down your neck, your chest, your stomach, thighs.

- he’ll go down on you if that’s what you really want. but he probably won’t do it without you asking.

- he loves fucking you when you’re on your period.

- there’s significantly less friction, and you’re just so warm and wet he gets so hard. i swear.

- holding onto your hips while he pistons in and out of you, head hanging low and panting the closer he gets.

- he cums faster whenever you’re on your period.

- although, that doesn’t mean he’s not ready for a round 2.

shane.

- he’s lazy. lol.

- much like sam, it kinda just registers as “well she wants to have sex so we’re gonna have sex. who am i to complain.”

- it’s also flattering for him, too. he likes knowing you want him.

- in general, it’s extremely rare he’d ever say no to sex. the circumstances had to be DIRE for him to say no.

- just bc he can get turned on pretty quickly.

- so yeah, if you wanna have sex while ur on ur period? he’s on board.

- like i said tho, he’s lazy. so you can bet on shower sex while you’re on ur period LMFAOO

- he’s not gonna clean the sheets or towels if there’s a stain💀

- and what’s better then holding you up against the shower wall, one leg wrapped around his waist while fucking he’s ur pain away??😇😇

- no mess, no cleaning! it’s a win-win!

- but in general, he really doesn’t care.

- ur period isn’t something he really thinks twice about.

- if u ask him to pick up pads or tampons at the store one day you’re too busy, he’s already out the door.

- if you need something, he’ll stand up and go get it for you. he’s not rushing for it, but neither is he slow-walking on purpose. it’s just like ur asking for the tv remote.

- he’s not overly emphatic. he’s a fantastic help, but that doesn’t mean he changes all that much from the weeks you aren’t on your period.

- what i’m saying is, u being on ur period doesn’t change anything from ur regular daily life.

- if u turn to him and say, “wanna have sex?” he’s gonna fucking say yes.

- although, he probably won’t go down on u while ur in the middle of ur period.

- nor will he finger u, unless ur in the shower. and most of the time u are.

- easy to rinse off LMFAO.

- will definitely rub ur clit while he’s inside of u, in the shower or not.

- in some ways, u kinda turn him on a little more when ur on ur period.

- maybe it’s because he likes how u become so comfortable around him, despite being with him for so long.

- it’s extremely domestic to see you when you just don’t care to put effort in your appearance. you just wear sweats, pull your hair back and walk around with the funniest scowl on ur face.

- you kinda lose your filter a little,

- like, when ur off ur period you at least flirt a little to show him you need him right now.

- but when you’re just horny and uncomfortable, you don’t even care.

- “can you fuck these cramps away? i can run the shower,”

- zero filter.

- believe me, he’s all for it.

sebastian.

- i feel like having sex on your period isn’t something either of you had ever had the confidence to bring up for a while.

- like, for some reason, whenever you told him you started your period it was an unspoken “so we can’t have sex for a few days” kinda thing.

- and to that? yeah. sucked.

- the only reason it was perceived that way was because he just figured you didn’t want to. that you’d be uncomfortable with it.

- you both thought that way, actually.

- so…for a while it was just like…

- ur both rly horny. & for some reason u don’t tell each other bc, 😱 ur on ur period.

- it wasn’t until one night u were both hanging out with each other, during the middle of ur period.

- sitting on the couch, watching tv, lazily leaning on each other in peaceful silence.

- your cramps had been killing you all day, and now wasn’t any better. he was sweet enough to get you a heating pad.

- he’s not rude enough to let u suffer in silence. he’ll always double check if you need any ibuprofen or stuff like that.

- but anyways, ur sitting there. in discomfort. next to ur boyfriend. who you want really badly to help ur pain with something you can’t offer yourself.

- “…sebby?”

- “hm?”

- “…my cramps hurt…really bad. is there anyway you wanna help me?”

- he kinda thinks you meant like getting a heating pad or something, so you’ll have to explain it to him.

- anyways, the answer is yes.

- he does lay out towels.

- the first couple times, you end up having just regular missionary sex.

- but i feel like the longer you two having been doing this, you decide to add in some aspects, change a few things up.

- i’m talking toys lol.

- he’ll always fuck you if that’s what you both want, but for some reason he loves watching you get off on your own vibrator or something while you’re on your period.

- cus yeah, he knows you and your body very well, but he still loves seeing how you can orgasm with your own doing.

- will likely masturbate with you. he can’t help it.

- and finally, he’ll fs finger you.

- he just loves fingering you in general, why would a little blood stop him from that?

alex.

- yeah no, he doesn’t care.

- say whatchu will about him 🙌 but he doesn’t care.

- a firm believer that swords are meant to get a little blood on them.

- in fact, he’s probably said that to u before 💀

- although, i do wanna say he isn’t super experienced w this sort of thing.

- he’s had a fair share of one night stands or casual hookups, and yeah he’s had girlfriends before but they were rarely ever as serious as you two.

- so periods in general were a relatively new thing he’s become acquainted with.

- do not fear tho! he’s ready to learn!

- i feel like he actually enjoys going to the store to get u pads or tampons and stuff.

- there’s something so possessive abt it that i can’t really explain.

- he feels kinda superior carrying ur box of tampons to the checkout lane. i rly cant explain it.

- that being said. his eagerness to learn doesn’t fall far from product shopping.

- this man loves putting you in positions that you didn’t even know your body could move in.

- so, when you tell him, “babe, my cramps hurt so bad, please help me,” …he’s eager.

- he knows pressure to your back and stomach can help, so trust me…

- he’s got your legs wrapped around his waist, pillow underneath you, his length fully inside of you and he’s gently pressing against your stomach.

- even without being on your period it feels amazing, but now? with your hormones heightened, and your sex drive skyrocketed? godddd…..

- “does that feel good, baby? feelin’ better?” “mhm, i know pretty, just let it out.”

- i’m bricked.

- it’s such a turn on for him when you’re super horny.

- cus he pretty much is all the time, it’s just a little switch you have to flick and boom—he’s ready.

- so when it’s your chance to be crawling to him, asking for a relief he can give you, yup he loves it.

- adds to his already overflowing ego.

- and the blood is none other then proof of that.

elliot.

- ok so

- he’s v different from the other bachelors. well, aside from harvey ig.

- he couldn’t care, never cared, and won’t ever care that you’re horny on ur period.

- if you want him, and you know it’ll relieve the pain—that’s like heaven for him.

- but for this i think it’s fitting to take a different approach.

- let’s say, ur insecure about it.

- you know very well that he doesn’t find it gross, no matter how many times he reassures you,

- but that still doesn’t stop the little voice inside of you that tells you otherwise.

- it’s just like, you know your on your period, but he’s just so attractive, he’s been a gentleman to you all night, and u just fucking need him. you need him so badly.

- “you’re really not grossed out by it?” you randomly ask, breathlessly pulling your lips away from his.

- despite not even mentioning it beforehand, he takes no time to figure out what you meant cus he was already thinking about it💀

- “why would i be?”

- he’ll probably go on a little spiel about how it means nothing to him, and since it’s especially beneficial towards you, it’s actually a turn on for him.

- can i safely say that?

- that he’s kinda turned on by it?

- well i did. cus he is.

- maybe not the blood itself, even tho he doesn’t care about that. mostly just the fact that having period sex literally connects you on so many different levels, it’s much more intimate and obviously this man loves passion.

- nothing changes from your regular sex lives when you’re on your period.

- yes that means he’ll go down on you.

- he. does. not! CAREEE!!!!!!!

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mitsuyeaah · 1 year

Text

PRETTY THINGS

RAN HAITANI x f! reader

“if someone were to warn me that this was gonna happen, that you would walk into my life and ruin it, i would still let you.”

cw: cheater! ran, toxic relationship, slight angst, smut, nsfw (mdni), edging, unprotected sex, oral, cheating, degradation, pet names (baby, princess), swearing

word count: 3.2k

a/n: i wrote this in 10hrs and enjoyed it, hope you guys enjoy as much while reading it! © divider: honeypuppixels

He promised. Ran Haitani promised to you that he’d never do it again. Of course you knew it was all a lie, just a pretty little lie that had you believing he was actually going to change for the better.

What a foolish thought.

There he sat in front of you, his collarbones peppered with red and purple bruises, not from fighting. Ran didn’t even bother hiding it from you, the least he could’ve done was to button his white polo all the way up and seal those marks that didn’t belong to you—love bites that never came from you—at least that way it would be out of sight and out of mind. Like it always was.

Your eyes were boring holes onto his lower neck, thinking that staring at them hard enough would make them completely disappear from your thoughts and your sight. But it didn’t. It was still there, freshly painted due to its vibrant colour.

“Was she as good as you thought?” your eyes travelled up to meet his amethyst ones. It held everything but regret. The short-haired man across from you furrowed his brows and he looked at you like you were some kind of freak, like you had just told him the most outrageous fact to ever exist.

Ah, here comes the gaslighting, you thought.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about?… Are you going to eat that?” He dropped the topic faster than the speed of light and pointed his fork at the tasty dessert sitting on a plate, untouched. Mont blanc, his favourite.

You closed your eyes, letting out a deep sigh before shaking your head and pushing the small plate towards your boyfriend. “Ran, please. Can we just talk this out? I know you’ve been cheating on me.” Again, you wanted to add but figured it wouldn’t even make a difference.

You already knew what was going to come out of his mouth next, you always did. It was like some kind of routine at this point and you were getting tired. Tired of it all.

“I’m sorry I won’t do it again. You know you’re the only one I love, right?” he replied like he’d been practising the line since this morning. Ran didn’t even bother looking at you, he was too focused on the delicious treat in front of him, eagerly digging into it and savouring every bite.

The first time he said those words to you, you believed it. The second time he did, you swore you were going to leave if he did it again. But you didn’t leave by the third time. Now, you’ve lost count but you couldn’t blame this all on Ran. You had the liberty to leave him and walk out of his life to never return again.

But you didn’t.

You didn’t know if it was because of the failed relationships you’ve had in the past or simply the luxuries of life that Ran was able to provide you. And he provided splendidly. Ran was a man of his words, you tell him you want something? You’ll get it the next day. A big box that sat on your shared bed, topped with a red ribbon.

You always got what you wanted with him. Apparently, this didn’t apply when asking for his faithfulness and for the sake of your relationship.

The first few months were completely different with Ran, he treated you like you were the only thing that mattered to him, he looked at you like you were this precious jewel that he somehow managed to get his hands on.

He didn’t only shower you with gifts but with love as well but things changed as your relationship progressed and you didn’t know what happened to him.

Maybe it was also because Ran knew that you would never leave him. He was too good to be broken up with and you hated it because it was true. No other relationships in the past could provide you with luxuries this well, and they also weren't any different from Ran, you caught your past boyfriends with other women too.

So you thought, if I’m going to be with a cheater then why not a rich one?

At the very least, Ran provided endlessly unlike the other men you had in the past. Plus, the pleasure he gave you was… unforgettable. It was different. It felt like there was actually some kind of love laced with it despite him barely showing you any.

You knew you deserved better than to be treated like someone with no feelings but the hold Ran had on you was tight.

“Do you want Saint Laurent? We can drop by after this.”

You hated yourself for being so easy, you hated how easily he can buy back your love with pretty things and just the simple swipe of his card. It felt dirty and disrespectful to yourself but deep down you liked his materialistic approach. You always had a keen eye for the luxuries and something in you just couldn’t resist them.

Sighing, you looked away and tightly nodded. Ran smirked to himself, once again he was reassured that you weren’t going anywhere any time soon.

“I forgot to tell you, Rindou is hosting at our club tonight, did you want to go? He’d been working on some new mixes so I think he’d appreciate us being there.” he looked at you, waiting for you to meet his gaze but you never did as you nodded again.

—

A sea of bodies moved to the beat of the music blasting from the speakers, strobe lights occasionally illuminating their dancing bodies. The club was packed, as you expected, after all, it was Rindou who was DJing tonight’s club that he and Ran owned. He was good at what he did, that's why people kept coming back for more.

You and Ran sat in one of the VIP booths which had a nice view of Rindou manning the controller up on the stage, he clearly enjoyed what he did and looked so passionate up there. A small smile formed on your lips, you felt proud of him, it felt like watching a little brother grow up.

“I’ll go get us drinks.” Ran leaned close to your ear, speaking louder due to the blasting music. You nodded at your boyfriend, you didn’t need to tell him what you wanted, he already knew.

Your eyes trailed Ran’s tall figure as he strategically made his way through the crowd, some of them greeting him. Clubs weren’t really your thing but your boyfriend was very fond of the nightlife, to the point where he and his younger brother built a club. It was truly amazing.

Your fingers tapped against your lap to the beat of the music as you waited for Ran to come back with your drinks. You were about to pull your phone out from your new Saint Laurent purse to distract yourself from waiting until someone sat next to you, their arm resting on the backrest behind you and legs crossing.

You knew it wasn’t Ran.

“We’ve met before.” It wasn’t a question, it was a fact.

You turned your head to the man sitting dangerously close to you, his slightly long white hair painted in different colours as the lights inside the club bounced around, changing hues, he wore his signature hanafuda earrings which danced with every movement. His lilac eyes held your uninterested gaze, the glint in them showing slight amusement.

“Izana.” you acknowledged the man before turning to the dancing crowd, trying to spot your amethyst haired boyfriend. Where the fuck was he? You thought. Izana was Ran and Rindou’s friend, you figured he was also here to support the younger Haitani.

He tilted his head to the side, earrings swaying with the movement, “Where’s Ran? Did he abandon you?” his voice was laced with amusement and it took all your willpower not to physically roll your eyes at him. “He’s just getting us drinks…” you sighed, crossing your arms over your chest. You didn’t miss the way Izana glanced down at your chest before meeting your gaze again.

Izana rested his chin on the hand that lay on the backrest, giving you a saccharine smile, “Hmm, then why do I see his arm around a pretty stranger? That doesn’t look like ‘getting drinks’ to me.” he teased, placing his hands in the air for make-shift quotation marks.

He almost laughed at the way your brows shot up and your head snapping back to the crowd to look for your boyfriend. You saw his familiar tall figure and signature streaked purple hair, he was indeed with another woman and was getting too comfortable for your liking. You didn’t like how his hand snaked down her back, resting just above her ass.

The fucking audacity.

You were about to get up from the leather seat, anger and disappointment bubbling up but Izana swiftly grabbed your wrist, “Why don’t you come play with me instead?” you looked back at Ran, who was still conversing with the woman and back at Izana, giving you an expectant gaze.

Sighing, you slowly sat back down, earning a sly smirk from the man next to you. Two can play at this game, you thought. If Ran wasn’t going to learn to drop his bad habits then you would just have to give him the taste of his own medicine.

“Good girl.” Izana purred, the grip on your wrist slid down to your exposed leg and encased your inner thigh, his pinky dangerously close to the apex of your legs. You sucked in a breath at his brazenness, your breaths becoming shallow as he started massaging your inner thigh, “You know… I’ve always been fond of you since your boyfriend introduced us to each other. Sucks that he got to you first.”

Izana’s hand started running up and down your inner thighs, each time getting closer and closer to your panties, “Always wondered how sweet you taste. Ran, that lucky bastard.” he chuckled against your ear, hot breath fanning down the side of your neck, earning a small whine from you.

Before Izana could escalate the situation further, he was stopped by a sudden loud voice, “What the fuck are you doing to my girlfriend?!” Ran angrily set the drinks down on the table in front of you and pulled his friend by the collar. You tried to get Ran to let go of the shorter man but your pleas fell deaf to his ears.

Izana met Ran’s cold stare, challenging it with a smirk on his lips before putting his palms up in defeat. Your boyfriend forcefully shoved Izana away and watched him leave before turning to you, “I leave you for how many minutes and you’re already slutting yourself out for my friends.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, standing up to challenge him but Ran towered over your figure, looking down at you, “And? You were practically eye fucking that woman down there! You told me you wouldn’t do it anymore, Ran.” you pointed at the general direction of where your boyfriend previously was, not backing down despite his looming figure.

“I’m so fucking tired of this! Don’t be surprised if I leave you for Izana.” you rolled your eyes, trying to get past him but your attempt was halted as he grabbed your wrist.

Ran let out an unamused laugh, “You think that’s a threat to me? Baby, I know you’d never leave me. I think we both know that. Izana cannot and never will give you as much as I do.” he stepped closer to you, removing strands of stray hair from your face.

“I’m taking you home. Clearly you’ve forgotten who you belong to.”

—

Ran was merciless.

He put you in several different positions that had your eyes rolling back and lungs screaming out for him but never did he let you cum once. How cruel. The two of you didn’t even reach your shared bedroom before you started sucking each other’s face since Ran was restless on the drive home.

There was an evident tent in his pants as he manoeuvred the car which made him shift uncomfortably against the smooth leather seat. One hand gripped the steering wheel while the other was stuffed into your cunt, his slender fingers already pleasuring you. His middle and ring finger relentlessly thrusting in and out while occasionally rubbing your clit with his palm.

Of course he never let you cum then.

“Ah—fuck! Please, Ran!” your nails scraped against the marbled countertop of your kitchen as you braced yourself with your arms, head bowing forward in pleasure as your boyfriend slipped his long cock inside your cunt once again. Tears were rolling down your cheeks—some already dried—as your body was engulfed in pleasure, again.

He was so mean. Ran fucked you until you were almost cumming before pulling out and changing your position, leaving you clenching around nothing but pure disappointment.

“Hm? Please w-what, baby?” he let out a raspy chuckle against your ear, bare chest pressing against your back. Ran sped up his thrusts which caused your shaky arms give out against the cold marble surface, you were now chest flat against the countertop, arms splayed on either side of you, he used your bent torso as a leverage by circling one hand on your nape and thrusting even deeper.

You swore you could feel him in your throat.

Your moans became higher and louder as Ran pressed his chest to your back again, while reaching for a leg, and propping it on the countertop allowing him to reach even deeper, which you didn’t even know was possible until tonight. He supported your leg with one hand while the other snaked up to your hand, lacing his fingers with yours, his palm making contact with the back of your hand.

You bit your lip, whining at how deep he was inside you, your forehead making contact with the cold marbled surface, you slightly felt the friction on your forehead as you bounced forward due to Ran’s unrelentless pounding but you couldn’t care less, he was giving it to you so good and you were taking it so well.

Skin slapping and squelching sounds filled the whole house along with erotic sounds that Ran pulled from you, the tension hung thick in the air as you were nearing your high.

“Please let me—mhm! Let me cum, please baby.”

Ran breathily laughed at your desperation to cum around his cock but he wasn’t done with you. He was going to break the stubborn walls of your attitude until you knew who you belonged to.

“I’ll think about it. Fuck!” he gasped, burying his face into your hair, occasionally sucking and licking at your nape.

You clenched around his length, vision slowly turning white and head spinning from pleasure, you were about to cum. Ran knew you were close with the way your breaths came out very shallow and with a slight moan at the end, he also didn’t miss the way your cunt gripped his cock like a vice which had him clenching his teeth, eyes slightly rolling back.

With that, Ran pulled out once again, earning a desperate cry from you.

“Who do you belong to? Me or Izana?” he stayed pressed against your back, while he panted the question into your ear, his hot breath making you shiver and giving you goosebumps.

You were too fucked out to even reply. Your mind housed only one thing, to cum. So when he asked you the question, you couldn’t properly get a response out no matter how much you tried. You stayed panting against the countertop, condensation forming from your repeated shallow breaths.

“I asked a question, slut.” he forcefully shoved two fingers into your cunt which earned a whine from you. “Y-you! Only you, Ran.” you sobbed, you just wanted to chase your own high.

Ran positioned his dick to your entrance and entered in one thrust, causing you to curse out loud, “That’s right you belong to me and only me. You wanna know why? Cause I’m the only one who can dick you down this good.” He started thrusting, immediately returning to the previous pace he’d set before, balls harshly slapping against you.

“I know you’d never fucking leave me because you’ll always come back for this expensive dick. Such a whore for my dick and all the things I buy you, huh?” he laughed. You couldn’t even reply to any of his mockery at this point, all you wanted to do was cum so you just nodded at everything he said, giving him occasional ‘yesses’.

Ran’s hips didn’t falter once which immediately brought you close again, a fresh set of tears rolling down your wet cheeks, “Ran, baby, I’m cumming. Please let me cum.” you whispered, voice hoarse and throat sore from all the screams he forcefully pulled from you earlier.

“Fuck! Cum for me princess. Cum for this dick that you love so much.” he groaned against your neck, he was also nearing his climax. The way your walls clenched down on his dick had him rolling his eyes to the back of his head.

You came with a loud moan, hands balling into fists against the marbled surface and toes curling, pleasure engulfing your whole body. A familiar intense sensation shot up your spine which caused your legs to shake and back to arch against Ran’s torso.

Ran bit the skin on your shoulder, cock buried deep inside as his hips stilled right against your ass, he clenched his hands around your hand and the leg that he was holding up, knees almost buckling from the intense pleasure he felt as hot thick ropes of cum shot inside you, making you shiver.

He rode out your orgasm by quickly pulling out and getting on his knees to attach his mouth to your exposed cunt, earning a surprised yelp from you. Ran lapped up all your juices before sucking at your clit, his tongue rubbing tight circles on it which had you practically pushing him away due to overstimulation.

Your boyfriend got up from his knees, legs slightly shaking as he pulled you towards him, wrapping his arms around your front and burying his face in your hair, “I love you.” he whispered.

He didn’t mean that.

You knew he didn’t mean those three words. But you closed your eyes and convinced yourself that he did, even if it was just this moment because you still love him despite what he’s openly done.

And it was foolish. You knew that but you couldn’t bring yourself to leave him.

Maybe someday you’ll be free from your clouded senses and finally leave Ran but as of now, you remain indifferent.

You were young and blinded by the pretty things he had to offer, things you’ve never seen before and if you were to meet him again for the first time, you’d welcome him with open arms and let him ruin your life.

After all, there wasn’t quite anyone like him.

#ran haitani #ran smut #ran angst #ran x y/n #ran x you #ran x reader #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo revengers angst #tokyo revengers x y/n #tokyo revengers x you #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers #izana kurokawa #rindou haitani

1K notes · View notes

fluentmoviequoter · 11 days

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The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly

✵ Part 2 of what is now a sweet, soft Tim moments miniseries!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!rookie!reader

Summary: Tim Bradford cares more about you, his boot, than he should. He has a dream about you and realizes that he's in a bad spot.

Warnings: fluff, minor angst, Tim and r making things hard on themselves

Word Count. 1.0k+ words

A/N: Many thanks to the kind words of @elephants-bubbles-brachosauruses @writings-of-a-demigod and @newobsessionweekly on the first part! Thanks for the inspiration and love! Here's more soft Tim realizing how he feels.🤍

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

“Well, what do you think?”

Tim watches you spin in the new outfit before you place your hands on your hips and look at him. He’s been waiting outside the dressing room for too long, but he can’t find it in himself to ask you to leave.

“It’s beautiful. So were the last five,” Tim tells you.

“That’s not helpful,” you lament. “I have to pick the best one!”

“It’s a charity dinner, not your wedding. Just pick what you like, what you feel good in, and let’s go. We do have a shift to finish.”

“We have fifteen more minutes of our lunch break,” you point out. “Let me try on one more.”

Tim stands and counters, “Only if I get to pick it.”

“Okay,” you agree softly. “I’m in room 2.”

Tim nods and turns like he’s on a life-dependent mission. He navigates through the racks of clothing as if a suspect is hiding in them. When he finds something he thinks you’ll like and knows you’ll look great wearing, he picks it up and returns to the dressing room.

“You’re making this harder than it needs to be,” he says as he passes the hanger over the door.

“And you always make things so easy,” you argue playfully. “Oh, this is nice.”

Tim returns to the plush chair in the waiting area and leans back. His belt digs into his side, but he doesn’t bother to move. He’d prefer to leave than to find a new position. When you emerge in Tim's suggested outfit, you smile at him, and Tim stands quickly.

“That’s the one,” he murmurs.

“I think so too. You have better taste than I anticipated, Bradford.”

You return to the dressing room to change into your uniform again, and Tim feels like he has been kicked in the chest. Everything about this has been domestic, slow, just you and Tim, but then you called him Bradford. And, when he stands beside you in the checkout lane, both dressed in patrol blues, Tim is cruelly reminded that you are his rookie, partners at most, and this was just a convenient trip for you.

“Thank you,” you whisper. “For coming with me, for putting up with me, being so nice. Everything.”

“Of course,” Tim answers.

“I, uh, I was wondering if you had an outfit for the dinner?”

“I’ve got a suit somewhere in my closet.”

You nod and look down at the outfit draped over your arm.

“I think you need one more thing,” Tim adds.

“What? I’ve got the outfit, shoes, a-“

“A date,” Tim interrupts. “Do you… would you want to go with me? As more than two cops from the same station?”

You look at him wordlessly and shift on your feet. Tim immediately begins to regret asking and tries to find a way to make a joke or a reason to call you boot and put everything back in perspective.

“I’m sorry,” he decides on.

“No, I want to say yes, I just assumed you were kidding.”

“Why?” Tim questions, reaching toward you.

“You were nice to me the day that I got my hand sliced open, but you told me then that-“

Tim wakes when his arm jerks. He expects to feel you beside him, but as he sits in his bed, in his house, in his lonely existence, he realizes it was all a dream. He was nice to you that day, but he wonders if there’s something he could do now to show you it wasn't a one-off kindness. You’re his rookie, but Tim needs more.

“Oh,” he murmurs as everything sinks in. He dreamt about you because you affect him and his emotions more than you’ll ever know. That date, the touch he misses without ever feeling, everything about the dream was the unconscious pursuit of Tim’s true desires.

“This is bad, Kojo,” Tim mumbles. “Very bad.”

The following morning, Tim can’t make eye contact with you. He hasn’t been nervous around a woman since he and Isabel were dating. As he sidesteps you to avoid touching you, he wonders if there is any chance you want it, too. There’s too much risk, he decides; your safety and his judgement are more important than his feelings or some high school-level crush on the one girl he can’t get.

“So,” you begin as you get in the shop. “Sergeant Grey said days with lots of events are hectic. Does that make this the bad?” you ask.

“When are you going to stop asking me that?” Tim asks. “You’ll know when the bad is.”

“Well I thought a dozen stitches was bad, but if that was the good, I’d like a heads up from you before the bad really happens.”

“That part wasn’t the good,” Tim huffs. “The bad is… it’s the rest of it. Everything until you pass your exam and start seeing the ugly that scars the good.”

You purse your lips and nod to yourself. “You’re in a good mood today. Chipper, almost.”

“It’s not supposed to make you happy, but it’s police work.”

“I think it’s the bad for another reason,” you admit. “Because I can’t talk about anything. Questions, ideas, opinions, even just how I feel, nothing I say or do gets taken seriously now, but the second I mess up, no one will forget it. My bad days can ruin me.”

“It gets better,” Tim assures. He notices your eyes on him when you say ‘how I feel’ but doesn’t push. “But keeping a low profile as a rookie has its pros and cons.”

You nod and look out the passenger window. This is the bad, and you are already in the worst of it; you and Tim are hiding your feelings from each other and trying to keep them from affecting yourselves. The lies that you and Tim think in a vain effort to stay professional and protect your hearts only make it harder to see that the person sitting beside you sees past your uniform. Your only concern is that the ugly will scar you before you escape from the bad and invite Tim into the good beside you. No matter where you are, in the good, the bad, or the ugly of police work, Tim will be beside you. But maybe you need his hand in yours and a promise that there’s more. Because this is bad, but it could get a whole lot worse.

#tim bradford x reader #fluentmoviequoter tgtbatu #tim bradford fic #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford the rookie #tim bradford #tim bradford x y/n #tim bradford x you #tim bradford x fem!reader #fem!reader #hanna writes✯

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magics-neptunes-things · 5 months

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BabySister (2)

It been asked, it's here ladies and gentlemen!

I didn't realize that there is so much people asking for Leila's content but here it is!

You can find the requests here and here and here and here too

It's the part 2 of "Babysister*t that you can find here :) Please enjoy!

TW : Jealousy

______________________________________________________________

Despite the fact that your sister is aware of your relationship with Leila, you both decided not to make an official annoucement for now. Your friends are starting to be nicely made aware, but you’ve never been for the big announcements and you just talk about it to people who are interested in you and your personal life.

Shortly after the revelation, Jenni had to go back home. Two days later, it was Leila who had to return to Manchester and you are back alone in Barcelona. Even if you have friends and family here, their departures aren't easy. Especially Leila’s, of course. Seeing her go through airport security after one last long hug will probably break your heart every time.

Your week then went on, between work, a few drinks with your friends and the routine that settled back after the holidays. You regularly called Jenni during the week and every night you call Leila, but it’s clearly not enough compared to being able to see them every day while they’re in Barcelona.

"Is everything okay?" Leila asks you Friday night, having noticed your morale at half-mast.

"Yes" you answer simply by shrugging your shoulders.

Leila is preparing herself something to eat, you see her stop to look more closely at the screen of the phone. It's true that you are less local than usual, something that was obviously quickly noticed by Leila. She knows you well.

"I can tell when you’re lying, you know?"

You sigh softly, letting yourself go on your back on your bed. Of course she can.

"I’m fine. I miss you, that’s all"

"I miss you too, Cariño. What are you planning for your weekend?"

"Tomorrow we go out for a drink with my colleagues probably. And Sunday afternoon I watch my girlfriend play on TV"

"I like the second part, but the first? Will there be Aida?"

You roll your eyes when you hear her. You don’t understand why Leila reacts every time she hears that name, you already have had a few comments about her from your coffee with Jenni. All turned around a jealousy that absolutely doesn't deserve to exist.

"She wasn’t sure she could come" so you answer honestly.

"Perfect. Let her continue like this"

********

The following weekend is a little more glorious, since you have the opportunity to fly to Manchester to see Leila play. With Manchester City at home, you can enjoy Leila’s apartment while she’s at training before joining her at the stadium to be on time for the game. You’re happy to see her start the game, just like Laia Aleixandri, your compatriot.

The match ends with a draw and you quickly notice the disappointed look of Leila. She likes to win when you come to see her, probably to add pride.

"You were perfect" you smile at her when she comes up to you after the game.

"We didn't win" Leila objects but you smile tenderly while shrugging her shoulders.

"Not everyone can be as perfect as you."

An amused smile appears on her face when hearing you and you know that her morale isn't as low as you might have feared.

"The girls want to go out tonight, you want us to go too?"

You willingly accept, freeing Leila so that she can go to take a shower and warm up a little. You have time to go home for a while before going out again and you enjoy having her only for you for a few hours. You can imagine that once in the evening, things will be a little less easy.

You spend a little more time than usual in the bathroom getting ready, wishing to impress Leila. Now that your sister knows about you two, you’re a little less afraid of getting caught by someone and ending up on social media. And you can say just by seeing Leila’s look when you come out that it’s successful.

"Do you like it?" you ask Leila, looking down at your outfit.

"You are to die for" Leila assures you, eyes wide open.

You can't hold a small smile and you gladly accept her hug even if her hands are a little wandering on your body.

"Be good, we have to go" you remind her by laying a kiss on her cheek.

Despite a grunt of protest, Leila finally lets you go and drags you to the bottom of her building. Both planning to drink, you preferred to use an Uber rather than taking risks on your way back home. Maybe one of Leila’s teammates can take you home if she doesn’t drink, but you’ll have plenty of time to check in later.

Most of Leila’s teammates are already at the bar when you get there, your hand in Leila’s. You greet them or you greet them again, even if you are easier to communicate with those who speak Spanish. Your English is great actually and that's a good thing.

The evening goes well and you have a good time, dancing or just chatting and talking with the girls. After a long time of dancing on the dance floor, you went back to sit with Leila and other girls.

"I’m going to the bathroom, I’m coming back" Leila whispers in your ear before getting up.

You nod, smiling as you feel her letting a kiss on your neck before shifting your attention to your glass, to see that it's empty. Given the heat, you don't hesitate long before getting up to go get another one.

You take the time to ask those around you if they want something and you refuse the proposal of Laia who asks you nicely if you want her to accompany you, despite the arms of her boyfriend passed possessively around her.

The crowd is dense and you have to go around the dance floor to reach the bar. But you finally get there, leaning on the corner of the bar waiting patiently for someone to come and serve you. There are a lot of people so it takes time, but you wait while looking at your phone. When you feel a hand on your shoulder you turn around smiling, expecting to see Leila. But it's actually a smiling blonde you’re facing, who you absolutely don’t know. The surprise must be read on your face since she apologizes almost immediately.

"Hi! Sorry, but I saw you’ve been waiting for your drink for a while. I’m not working today, but I work here, so I’m gonna put you in front of the others."

"Uh… thank you?" you mumble.

You look at her hand still positioned on your shoulder but you are quickly turned away from it when she shouts what you imagine to be the name of one of the bartenders. And indeed, in two seconds he's facing you to take your order.

"You’re not from here, are you? I can hear your accent"

There was a time when her hand got off your shoulder while taking the order, but she continues to smile cheerfully at you.

"I am Spanish" you answer simply with a slight smile.

"Oh so great. I’ve never been to Spain, but I’d love to."

You smile at her and don’t know what to answer at that. Unlike your sister, you’ve never been very comfortable interacting with other people. It's always much better for you when you are introduced into a group by someone you completely trust. The way Jenni quickly attracted people’s sympathy has always been something you admired about her.

Fortunately, however, you are saved by the bartender who comes in front of you with the glass you asked him for.

"I’m offering it to you" says the blonde, watching you grab your purse, putting her hand on yours. "Sorry about the question, but you’re a lesbian, right?"

"What?"

The surprise can be seen on your face again in front of the question she just asked you. Yes you are and no you never hid it, but you don't understand why this question was asked to you now.

"Don’t take this the wrong way" continues your smiling interlocutor "But I don’t know, it’s just something I can see. You’re like very gay, right?"

"She’s also very in a relationship" makes an icy voice behind you.

You turn around and see Leila and her black eyes. She really doesn't seem happy about the situation but tries to remain cordial. And now that you see her behavior, you finally understand that the girl was hitting on you.

"And I’ll pay for her drink thanks."

Her voice is calm when she grabs her bank card and her other arm slips around your waist to squeeze you against her. But you know perfectly well that inside her, her brain must be exploding.

"Lei" you whisper to try to get her attention.

Talking normally would have been enough, given the ambient noise, but you especially wanted to prevent the blonde from hearing you. You study Leila’s gaze at length when she puts it on you. You don’t have a lot of time together this weekend and you really don’t want to waste time arguing.

But before you have time to draw conclusions, her payment is accepted and she leads you to the table you left a few minutes ago. It's now almost empty, there is in truth only Laia and her boyfriend who discuss by looking tenderly the other in the eyes, probably forgetting the rest of the world. Moreover, Leila chose to sit opposite them.

"I told her not to leave you alone" Leila groans, glancing at Laia.

"I told her I didn’t need her to come" you explain, not wanting her to blame Laia.

"Well, she shouldn’t have listened to you" said the brunette, raising her voice.

"Leila, please"

You give her your best little sad puppy look by laying your hand on her knee. Leila is looking at you and it seems to work even better than you had hoped. She finally sighs softly and you take the opportunity to lean against her, kissing her elbow.

"That’s exactly why I don’t like it when you go out without me. It already happens when we are together, I prefer not imagine what happens when you're alone"

"Believe it or not, this kind of situation only happens when I’m with you. It never happens in Spain, I guess people are more used to the Latin charm there" you smile softly.

"Maybe it’s not a good idea that I suggest you come and live here then"

You freeze suddenly, your brain recording what she just said. You take off from her to observe her, falling face to face with her amused smile.

"Are you serious?"

"Yes. My contract is coming to an end, and I don’t know where I’m gonna go next, but I don’t think you’re gonna have a hard time finding work around here for some months. And even if you don’t, you don’t have to spend a dime since I’ll be there. Now that Jenni knows, it makes things less complicated, no?"

You can’t help but smile softly as you imagine Jenni’s face when you will announce her that you're leaving Barcelona to join Leila in Manchester. You know your parents aren’t going to be against it, you’ve been living alone for a long time now. And anyway, you’re an adult and vaccinated.

"What do you think?" Leila asks after you’ve been quiet for a few seconds.

"I’d say yes, but you said it wasn’t a good idea" you joked mischievously.

But the joke doesn't seem to be Leila’s taste since, after pouting, she imprisons your lips with hers for a long and tender kiss.

"Come and live with me" Leila whispers against your lips after your kiss.

"I’d love to" you answer with a smile.

This will probably require a lot of adjustments, but you don't hesitate a single second. You know Leila won’t be against you going back to Barcelona whenever you feel the need. But the idea of waking up every day at his side is already filling you with happiness.

#woso x reader #woso imagine #leila ouahabi #leila ouahabi imagine #leila ouahabi x reader

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ramblers-lets-get-ramblin · 7 months

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This Charming Man- dark!Frankie Morales x OFC Camila

Frankie Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Pairing: Frankie Morales x OFC Camila

Summary: Frankie’s wife kicks him out and files for divorce following a second trip to retrieve their money. He feels lost and hopeless until he meets someone new. He falls hard and fast for her. He’ll do anything to have her.

Rating: E for EXPLICIT MDNI 18+

Warnings: alcohol and drug references, stalking, Frankie POV, unhinged Frankie, violence, Frankie is not a good guy here, birth control talk, emotional manipulation, unprotected PIV, oral sex f!receiving, creampie, Good Dad ™️ Frankie, implied character death, uhhhhh i hope i didn’t miss anything but let me know if I did and I will add it!

Word Count: 9.2k

Author’s Notes: If i had to categorize this, it would be dark fluff. Frankie is not a good guy but you still kinda wanna root for him. This fic (like many of my fics) would not exist if not for the love of my life, Gin @wannab-urs letting me scream at her for weeks about it. @beskarandblasters also gave this a once over for me! I’m so lucky to have friends like them!

exitus acta probat- the outcome justifies the deed

Frankie is spending his Friday night much like he had nearly every Friday night for the past year, in a dingy high school gym, supporting his brother in arms. Benny is determined to make a name for himself in the MMA circle. Even after they returned from retrieving their money from that ravine in The Andes Mountains, he was still here, getting pounded into the mats week after week. It’s his way of coping with all the shit that went down in that jungle. Will threw himself into his work with veterans, Pope threw himself into the bed of any woman that would have him, but never the same one twice. Benny gets his face bashed in every weekend and lets the ring girls comfort him afterwards. As for Frankie, when he came home from that second trip to South America, all his shit was on the lawn and the locks had been changed. He crashed on Benny’s couch for a few weeks seeking comfort in the bottom of a bottle and those little baggies. Then he bought himself a house, nothing flashy, just a simple home with enough space for the kids, if she ever lets them come visit.

Frankie had been on a few dates, mostly with friends of whoever Pope or Benny was banging. He’d taken a couple of them home, showed them a good time, and then promptly asked them to leave. Unlike the guys, the solution to Frankie’s problems wasn’t a mouthful of pussy. To be completely honest, all Frankie wanted was to feel something, anything, again. Redfly’s death hit him the hardest, he blamed himself for everything that went down in that little village. All those deaths, including Tom’s, are on him. He was too quick on the trigger and people lost their lives. Their friend, their leader, lost his life. Tom’s kids lost their dad. Sometimes he couldn’t stand to face his brothers, knowing what his actions cost them all. Sure, the money was nice, but it didn’t come close to making up for what they lost, what Frankie took from them. He’s missed the last two Fridays, so he dragged his sorry ass off his couch, showered and came out to cheer Benny on.

Benny’s been seeing one of the ring girls for a few weeks and keeps trying to set Frankie up with her friend. He’d been able to hold him at bay so far, but he has a feeling his luck has run out. He’s tried to tell them he isn’t interested in hookup or a fling. He steps into the gym just as the lights go down. The ring is lit up with spotlights and he quickly finds Pope and Will right in the front. He slides into the seat they saved for him and accepts the beer Pope holds out to him. It tastes like warm piss but that doesn’t stop him from gulping it down. Benny’s fight is the headliner so he’s going last. Frankie doesn’t give a shit about MMA so he lets his eyes wander the crowd. He makes eye contact with a woman across the gym from him. She gives him a sweet smile, but she doesn’t look away. She holds his gaze, mirroring his intensity. He feels like all the air has been knocked out of his lungs. This is what he’s been looking for. He feels like a spark has been ignited inside his chest, radiating electricity throughout his body. She finally looks away, but not before giving him a sly smirk. She shoots up from her seat when the fight ends, and Frankie does the same.

“Where ya goin’, Fish?” Pope asks.

“Bathroom.” He replies, not even looking at his friend. He didn’t want to take his eyes off of her for a second. He half jogs through the door she exited, just in time to see her slip into the women’s room. He almost follows her in until a woman’s voice catches his attention.

“Oh this is the women’s restroom.” She offers politely. Frankie puts on his best smile and turns to her.

“I am so sorry, ma’am. Forgot my glasses at home.” The elderly woman pats his shoulder and moves past him to open the door.

Frankie waits for what feels like an eternity for her to come out, ears perking every time the door squeaks open. He jumps when a hand claps down on his shoulder.

“What are you doing, man? Benny’s fight is about to start.” Pope asks.

“Just needed some air.” Frankie offers. He tosses one more regretful look over his shoulder before he follows his friend back into the gym. He is determined to find her again after the match. He can’t let her get away. He has to at least talk to her. He spends the entirety of Benny’s fight imagining all the things he could do to her. How pretty she would look on her knees for him, with his cock halfway down her throat. What kind of sounds she’d make when he has his tongue buried inside of her. He has no idea who she is but he wants to do terrible, depraved things to her. Before he knows it, the lights are coming up and the guys are rising from their seats.

“C’mon, Fish. Let’s go find Benny.” The fight was over and Frankie didn’t even know who won. He stands from his seat and dutifully follows his friends. Hopefully, he’ll be able to figure out which way the fight went by the interactions between the other men. He’s too embarrassed to admit he’d been preoccupied fighting the half chub in jeans to pay attention to Benny’s fight.

They make their way over to the locker room and Benny swings the door open, a wide smile on his face. Sure, that face was sporting a split lip and a black eye, but that grin couldn’t be mistaken for anything other than victory. “Hey, Fish! Glad you were able to make it out this time. I was starting to think ya didn’t love me anymore.” Benny jokes while sling his arm around Frankie’s shoulder.

“Congratulations, man.” Frankie tells him, his eyes scanning the crown for the girl.

“Where are we going to celebrate?” Pope asks.

“Gotta check with my girl.” Benny replies and Frankie winces internally. If he didn’t want to be set up before, he definitely doesn’t now. He’s trying to think of an excuse to blow them off and go look for her. Since they were all rich now, he couldn’t really use work as a reason to not celebrate Benny’s big win.

“Here she comes.” Benny says excitedly. And there she was. The girl she had been sitting next to came to stand opposite Frankie, tucking herself in under Benny’s other arm. “Fish, meet Rochelle. Rochelle, this is Catfish.” Frankies sees her cock an eyebrow at hearing his name and stifle a giggle.

“Pleased to meet you, Catfish. And this is my friend Camila.” Frankie shakes Rochelle’s hand and turns to extend it towards Camila. She grasps his hand firmly.

“Nice to meet you.” She says sweetly. Every hair in his body stands on end when her skin makes contact with his.

“Alright!” Will says, clapping his hands together. “Let’s party.”

An hour later, Frankie finds himself alone with Camila. Pope had snuck off to the bathroom with the waitress, he isn’t nearly as slick as he thinks he is. Will had called it an early night already, and Benny was on the dance floor, grinding on Rochelle. He is surprised at how easily the conversation flows between them. Even more surprised when he discovers how much they have in common. He almost protests when she begins to gather her belongings. She has to drive and doesn’t want to drink too much.

“At least let me walk you to your car.” Frankie offers. She smiles and nods.

“I would like that.” She says. Frankie holds out his hand to help her down from the tall stool, she accepts but doesn’t drop it right away. He feels the same jolt of electricity in his body that he had before. He knows that there is something special about her. He walks her to her car and even opens the door for her after she unlocks it.

“Would you wanna have lunch with me sometime?” He asks, a little sheepishly. He hasn’t asked a woman out in years. He wonders if he even has any game still. Her eyes light up and she gives him a thousand watt smile.

“I’d love to, Catfish.” She says with a wink.

“Gimme your phone.” He digs his phone out of his pocket and hands it to her. She punches a few buttons and hands it back. Frankie looks down at the brand new contact and smiles. Camila ❤️. He closes her door for her and she offers him a small wave. He waves back and happily jogs to his truck at the other end of the parking lot, not even bothering to say goodnight to the guys.

He’s about to turn towards his house when he spots her car a few lengths ahead of him. He sees her turn signal indicating that she is going to turn right, the opposite way from Frankie’s house. A little detour won’t hurt , he thinks to himself. He turns where she did and can just make out her taillights making a left turn. He follows, once again, and sees her pull into a driveway. He slows down a bit as he passes and makes a right at the next stop sign. Then he makes another right. After a third, he finds himself passing by her house once more. The porch light is off now and there is only one light on inside the house. She must be readying herself for bed. The thought of her taking her clothes off, so close to where he sits at the end of her driveway, makes his cock ache inside his jeans. He grabs his phone from the cup holder and opens a new text thread. He just sends one word. “Catfish.” He’s putting his truck back into drive when his phone dings.

“Lunch tomorrow?” The text reads.

“Absolutely. You can choose the time and place.” He sends the message and thinks about going home to jerk off, but when the light inside her house turns off, he has an idea. So he just sits back and waits.

The next day, Frankie sits at his kitchen table, staring daggers into his phone, willing it to ring. He slaps it against his palm a few times while he paces the kitchen. As if that will produce the desired effect. He's so antsy that he actually drops his phone when it finally does ring. When he retrieves his phone from the kitchen floor the screen is lit up. Camila ❤️. He smiles when he answers.

"Hey there, I was just getting ready to head out the door." He says, trying not to let his excitement show.

"Hey, Frankie. I'm sorry but I don't think I will be able to make it to lunch." Camila says. She sounds disappointed. "I can't get my stupid car to start." He can hear the frustration in her voice.

"Well, that's okay. We can reschedule. Unless you want me to pick you up. I don't mind. Maybe I can even take a look at your car for you." He tells her in a soothing voice.

"That would be great! Thank you so much, Frankie." He smiles so big the corners of his mouth start to ache.

"Send me your address." He tells her, like he doesn't already know where she lives. But she can't know that he knows that. He hangs up and grabs his keys from the hook by the door. He pats his pockets to make sure he has his wallet, his phone and the starter relay he pulled from Camila's car last night, and heads out.

She slides into his truck with a comfortability Frankie isn’t expecting. Flashing him a dazzling smile and planting a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you so much, Frankie. You really saved this date.” She says. Frankie shoots her a smile of his own and pulls his truck into drive. He takes her to his favorite burger place, figuring it was casual enough for a first date. They fall into comfortable conversation immediately. Trading stories from childhood and facts about themselves. Favorite movies, death row meals. They talk about her divorce and Frankie’s pending one. Frankie’s heart flutters inside his chest. He’s so glad that he didn’t blow off the fight last night. Camila is nothing like the other women he’s been set up with. She’s smart and funny. She has a sharp wit and she's already comfortable teasing him, giving him shit. She might be the most beautiful woman he's ever laid eyes on.

Anyone who knows Frankie, knows that he isn't a man who half-asses anything. He gives everything he does all that he has. The army, flight school, his marriage. But that quality doesn't only apply to the positive aspects of his life. On more than one occasion his dedication, that borders on obsession, has come back to kick him in the ass. Like the time he tried cocaine. It developed into a full blown addiction in record time. And lost him all the things he loves. His career, his wife, his kids. He’s feeling that familiar tingle in his bones now as he listens to her talk about the things she loves. There is something so special about listening to someone talk about something that brings them true joy. The way their eyes light up and they talk all fast. He hasn’t done more than hold her hand for a few, brief moments and he already can’t get enough. He wants more. And he is planning on getting it.

After lunch, Frankie drives her back to her house. “Pop your hood.” He says, cocking his head in the direction of her car. She opens the car door, which Frankie had already noticed she doesn’t keep locked, and reaches under the steering wheel to pull the lever. The hood pops and Frankie unlatches it and pulls it up. He can feel her eyes lingering on where his biceps strain the fabric of his t-shirt. He may have worn one that fits him a little tight on purpose. He fiddles around with a few things under the hood and asks a few questions like when she last had it serviced and if it was making any noises.

“I…don’t know actually. My ex usually took care of all that kind of stuff for me.” She replies sheepishly. Frankie gives her a soft smile and says

“That’s okay. We’ll figure it out.” He assures her. She returns his smile and walks around the car to peer over his shoulder. He shows her where a few key things are, and explains some common issues. “Doesn’t seem to be any of those things though.” He says. Her brow furrows and he places a hand on her shoulder. “It’s alright. Just gotta check a few more things.” He says. He feels her shoulders relax under his palm. “Do you think I could trouble you for a glass of water, sweetheart?” Frankie asks.

“Of course!” Camila replies and she digs her house keys out of her bag and makes her way to the front door. Once she’s in the house with the door shut, Frankie looks around to make sure nobody is watching and pulls the starter relay out of his pocket. He moves his body around the car so that his back is facing towards the house, blocking his hands, just in case. He opens the black box and reattaches the relay. He closes it just in time. Camila comes up behind him with her keys in one hand and a glass of water in the other. Frankie turns to face her.

“Looks like one of your relays was loose. Why don’t you try starting it up now?” She hands him the water and slides into the driver’s seat and crank the key. It starts right up, just like he knew it would. He knows it was sneaky, but the elation on her face when she hears the engine purring makes it all worth it. Even more so when she shuts the car off, gets out, and launches herself at Frankie. He wraps his free hand around her and settles his face into the crook of her neck.

“Thank you so much!” She squeals into his ear, and he isn’t sure he’s ever heard a sweeter sound. But he’s sure he can get her to make some. He’s a little taken aback when her lips find his. It takes him a second to register what’s actually happening, then he wastes no time slotting his lips between hers.

Frankie is feeling happier than he has in months on his drive home. Thinking about his date this weekend with Camila has his dick throbbing in his jeans. He doesn’t want to come on too strong, doesn’t want to scare her, but he can’t wait to see what she looks like squirming underneath him. What the inside of her thighs taste like. What her legs feel like locked around the back of his head. His phone ringing interrupts his daydreams and he rolls his eyes when he sees his almost ex wife’s name fill the screen. She never calls with good news, with anything positive. He answers and presses the button for speakerphone. “Hello?” He answers hesitantly, unwilling to let whatever this is going to be about sour his good mood.

“Francisco, I need some money.” She says unceremoniously.

“Hi, Vanessa. I’m doing well, thank you for asking.” He replies sarcastically. She huffs into the phone.

“Are you gonna bring me some money or not?” She asks, her voice drips with disdain. How had they gotten here? Frankie wonders. How had they fallen so far from what they used to be? Best friends turned high school sweethearts. They got married right out of high school. Frankie enlisted shortly after his eighteenth birthday and shipped out two days after they graduated. He received a letter from Vanessa a month into basic training letting him know that she was pregnant and a few weeks later, when he came home, they had a courthouse wedding. With each deployment, he could feel the cavern in their marriage grow wider. But way back when, when Diego had first been born, they were deliriously happy. Of course, Frankie knows that his drug use didn’t help matters, neither did losing his pilot’s license. But no matter what the breaking point had been, that rot had been festering under the skin for years. He just doesn’t understand why she hates him so much.

“How much do you need?” He resigns to just give her what she wants. She’s been known to not let him see the boys when she doesn’t get her way.

“A couple hundred at least, Francisco. Raising your kids isn’t cheap, ya know?” She snarks.

“Yeah I know. Since you haven’t had a job in years. How is the search coming, by the way?” He can practically feel her roll her eyes through the phone. “I'll be there in twenty.” He says and ends the call, not giving her a chance to respond. He keeps some cash at the house, but most of his money is in a bank in Belize. His lawyer is ready to make it all look legitimate the second his divorce is final. And that bitch won’t get another dime from him that isn’t court ordered.

Diego and Mateo run out the front door and down the porch steps when they hear Frankie’s truck pull up to the curb. “Papi!” They scream in unison before flinging themselves into their father’s arms. “I missed you, Papi.” They exclaim.

“I miss you more.” He tells them quietly, wrapping his big arms tightly around them both. He plants a kiss on each of their heads and straightens, but doesn’t let go of them. “Where’s your mama?” He asks them. They point to the house and head in.

“Papi’s here!” Mateo shouts when they cross the threshold. Vanessa appears from in the kitchen and Frankie reaches into his pocket and pulls out a brown paper bag. He tosses it to her and it falls to the floor before she can catch it.

“Real nice, Frank.” She says. He brushes past her to the stairs, where the boys have already disappeared. At 14 and 11 they know when to make themselves scarce. Frankie and Vanessa tried hard to keep their problems from the kids, but they knew. They always know. It’s impossible to miss the tension that fills the room when they are forced to be together.

“I’m going to spend some time with my kids.” He tells her. Not bothering to wait for a response. When he reaches the top of the stairs and turns toward Diego’s room, he can see her counting the money out of the corner of his eye. Greedy bitch , he thinks. But if keeping her happy was what he needed to do for his boys, he’d put up with it. For now. Once he has his money, he’ll go after her for full custody. If he can’t find anything to prove she’s unfit, he’ll make something up.

Diego has a movie queued up on his tv and the boys are sitting on his bed. “We chose ‘28 Days Later’.” He tells Frankie as he toes off his boots and squishes in between them. Two hours later, the boys are both asleep, each with their head on their father’s shoulder. Frankie wriggles out from under them, trying his best not to wake them up. He grabs his boots from the floor and tiptoes out of the room, shutting the light and the door behind him. Vanessa finds him sitting on the bottom step lacing up his boots.

“The money was for my lawyer.” She tells him.

“So I’m paying for you to take half my shit and keep the kids away from me?” He retorts.

“He said we should try mediation.” She replies.

“Tell him to call my lawyer. Next time you need money, call someone else.” He tells her and walks out the door, careful not to shut it too hard.

When he steps into the shower, his mind can’t help but to wander back to this afternoon. The way Camila wrapped her arms around his neck. The way her breasts pressed tightly up against his chest. The smell of rosemary in her hair, mixed with something else, maybe mint. His dick grows harder than he ever thought possible at the memory. He strokes himself with the sound of that squeal playing on repeat in his ears. He touches the tips of the fingers of his other hand to his mouth, where he can still feel the ghost of her lips on his. Now he knows exactly how soft they would feel wrapped around his cock. The thought has him spilling over his hand and onto the floor of the shower with a shudder and a moan. When he falls asleep that night, it's with Camila on his mind.

Frankie finds himself sitting in his truck at the end of Camila’s driveway again. They’ve spent three Friday nights in the high school gym, watching Benny kick ass. They all always end up at the same bar afterwards to celebrate. Frankie walks her to her car, just like he did that first night. The guys give him shit when he comes back into the bar. His cheeks are flushed pink and his lips kiss-swollen. They make whip noises at him. And kissy faces. Santi is the only one who doesn’t tease. He just claps Frankie on the shoulder and tells him that he’s happy for him. And the following night each week, they’ve gone out together. Three dates. Three perfect nights. Every second that he spends with her makes her that much more irresistible to him. He isn’t quite sure what’s happening to him. He’s never felt like this in his life. Maybe this is why his marriage didn’t work out. He never for a second felt for Vanessa what he’s feeling now, after just a few weeks. His divorce had been mediated, just waiting for the finalization. He got split custody of his boys.

All the pieces seem to be falling into place for him. He knows he’s going to see her tomorrow, but he can’t stay away. When they were at dinner tonight, she told him about a man at work who had been asking her out, despite letting him down gently more than once. Just the thought of it had Frankie’s blood boiling. Not just the thought of another man vying for her affection. More than that, he disrespected her boundaries, he disrespected her, won’t take no for an answer. Frankie can’t have that. He lets the anger bubble there, just under the surface, as he gets out of his truck. He slinks up the driveway and slips the blade from his pocket. He unfolds it and jams it into her tire. The air hisses out of the tire and Frankie’s mouth turns up into a satisfied smirk. She’d also told him about the footprints she found outside of her bedroom window. Frankie’s eyes filled with faux concern. He couldn’t let slip that he was the one who made them. She hadn’t answered her phone that night and he was concerned. He just wanted to make sure that she was okay. When he found her sleeping peacefully, alone, he went right back home. Turns out she hadn’t been feeling well and took some cold medicine and fell right to sleep. She texted him all about it the next morning. He brought her some soup and Gatorade but she made him leave it on the porch because she knows he can’t keep his lips to himself when they’re together and she didn’t want to get him sick.

Frankie knows it isn’t right. He doesn’t know why he does these things. He just knows that he can’t stop. Not until she’s his. She’s a little gun shy after her own divorce, and now the strange things that have been happening around her house. Every time someone calls her from a blocked number and doesn’t say anything, every time something goes wrong with her car, she calls Frankie. He places the burner phone in his gun safe in his closet, and rushes right over. He’s become the person she runs to, the person she feels safe with. The rush he feels when he wraps his arms around her, comforting her, is like nothing else, not even flying. He feels a pang of guilt as he drives back to his house for the night. Would she still feel safe with him if she knew the lengths he was going to just to be nearer to her? He was the one making her feel unsafe, just to be afforded the opportunity to comfort her, to soothe the wound he made. He makes sure his ringer is on before he places his phone on his nightstand. He wouldn’t want to miss the call he knows is coming in the morning.

The ringing wakes him from his sleep and he fumbles around until his hand lands on his phone. The photo he took of the two of them together, Camila’s head on his shoulder, fills the screen. He smiles, remembering how they spent the night sitting in the bed of his truck, looking up at the stars. “Hello?” He says, his voice thick with sleep. The sound of her crying clears his head, memories of the previous night’s activities come flooding back.

“Frankie! I need you” She cries.

“What’s wrong, baby?” He asks.

“My tire is flat.” She exclaims. Frankie holds the phone to his ear with one hand and scrubs the other over his face,

“It’s okay, baby. I can be there in ten.” He tells her. Knowing that she hasn’t been brought to tears by a flat tire. He rises from the bed and slips a black t-shirt over his head.

“Babe, someone cut it!” The anguish in her voice almost makes Frankie regret it. Almost . Hearing the pet name fall from her mouth makes him smile. Still in his gray joggers, he rushes towards the door and slips on his tattered New Balances.

“Keep the door locked. I’m on my way.” He tells her, slamming the front door behind him. He makes it to her place in seven minutes, daring to go over the posted 20 mph speed limit. He knows she isn’t in any danger, not really. But she doesn’t know that. Her fear, that is very real, and Frankie doesn’t want her to feel it for a moment longer than she has to.

When he arrives he attempts to open the door but the knob doesn’t turn. Good girl. He knocks gently on the door, to make sure he doesn’t scare any further. “Hey, baby. It’s me. Let me in.” Camila throws the door open and leaps into Frankie’s arms.

“Thank you for coming.” She says into his neck, where she has buried her face.

“Of course I came. I’ll always come.” He assures her, tightening his hold on her. “Why don’t you go pack a few things and come stay with me a couple nights?” He suggests. She looks up at him through her lashes.

“Are you sure?” I know you’re supposed to have the boys this weekend. Frankies heart wrenches at the sight of tears on her beautiful face.

“Course I’m sure. I’ve been telling them all about you and they’ve been bugging me to meet you.” He tells her as he brushes away a tear with his thumb. She leans up to give him a kiss and then heads to her bedroom to pack her things. “I’m just gonna run out and take a look at your car, okay?” She hums in response, already feeling much safer with Frankie in her home. He just smiles and heads outside, pretending to be entranced with her shredded tire. Camila comes out a few minutes later with her purse and a duffel bag in her hand. Frankie finishes his “inspection” and takes the bags from her while she locks the door.

“I checked all the windows and the back door. Twice.” She tells him as he helps her into her seat.

“Good. If you want we can change the locks.” He replies. Tears well up in her eyes again, but she nods in response.

“I’m just so thankful for you.” She tells him quietly. He kisses her forehead and closes the door.

On the way to Frankie’s house they stop and grab some pizzas for lunch. When they arrive, Vanessa is there already, waiting by her car at the curb. “Why don’t you go ahead and run inside?” He tells Camila. He hands her his keys and plants a kiss to her temple.

“Who the fuck is that, Frank?” Vanessa asks.

“According to the judge, that’s not any of your business anymore.” He tells her, with a smile on his face. He doesn’t need his boys seeing him be nasty to their mother. She scoffs and crosses her arms over her chest. Camila is struggling with figuring out which key goes in the door along with juggling her bags, so she overhears more of the conversation than she was meant to. “She’s my girlfriend, okay?” Camila’s lips turn up into a smile just as she slides the key into the lock. She enters the house and closes the door behind her.

“Is she the reason you decided to stop helping me out?” She asks. Frankie laughs and shifts the pizza boxes to his other hand.

“No. Our divorce, a divorce you fucking asked for, is the reason I stopped giving you money to get your nails done, your hair done, and whatever the fuck else you were spending my money on. Sure wasn’t on our kids.” The anger is starting to bubble up in his chest again. “You told me they needed new shoes and I gave you $400. Why did Diego ask me to take him shopping this weekend?” He asks. She opens her mouth to make an excuse and Frankie cuts her off. “Don’t worry about it. I already bought them both new shoes. Hope you enjoyed whatever you spent that money on. It’s the last fucking dime you’ll ever see from me.” He nods his head towards the car, where the boys are watching the scene unfold through the windows. “Let my kids out. They’ll see you next week.”

The mediator worked out an even split in custody. They spend a week with her, then a week with Frankie. Since he lives so close, the school district is the same. The added bonus is that he doesn’t have to pay her a penny. If looks could kill, Frankie would have dropped dead right on that conference room floor. He waves for the boys to get out of the car. They hop out and run to give their dad a hug. He hands the pizzas to Diego and tells them to run inside and wash their hands. “And be nice to Camila.” He calls over his shoulder.

Vanessa narrows her eyes at his last comment. “Don’t forget, Frank. We were married for a long time. I know all the skeletons in your closet. I know where all the bodies are buried.”

Frankie takes his hat off and runs his fingers through his hair. “What’s that supposed to mean? You threatening me?” She points a finger at him.

“I’m not threatening. I’m just saying. Molly has some questions about Tom’s death you boys seem unable to answer. I’m sure people would be interested in what you all really got up to down there in the jungle.” Frankie scoffs but she continues. “And you can lie all you want, but I know you went back for that money.” She opens the door to her car, “Don’t test me.” She warns before she gets in and speeds off. Frankie stands there for a moment, unable to believe that she was actually threatening him. He shakes his head and joins Camila and the boys inside.

While Frankie cooks dinner his sons interrogate Camila, The boys ask her question after question. Each answer leads to more questions. Frankie’s heart swells seeing the three of them get along so well. Diego and Mateo seem to genuinely want to get to know Camila. And she seems content to answer all of their questions. “Are you my dad’s girlfriend?” Mateo asks. She turns her head a little to catch Frankie’s eye, not wanting to say the wrong thing. He nods lightly and smiles at her. She returns his smile with one of her own and tells Mateo,

“Yes. Yes I am.” Mateo smiles brightly at her and then asks her if she wants to play Monopoly after dinner. The whole scene is so domestic . He tries to remember the last time he and Vanessa had a night like this with their kids. No drama, no arguing, just enjoying being a family. Frankie wishes it could always be like this. That Camila could be here every night when he gets home, that his sons could. And now she’s threatening him? He can’t have that. Not when everything is finally starting to come together. Not when he can finally envision a future for himself. So, he begins to formulate a plan.

“Spring break is in two weeks, right?” He asks Diego who nods, intent on winning. “Would you all like to go camping?” The boys' faces light up with glee. They love camping with their dad.

“Can Tio Santi come?” Diego asks.

“And Uncle Benny and Uncle Will?” Mateo adds.

“We can ask them.” He chuckles. “Do you want to come?” He asks Camila.

“I’d love to. By the way, you owe me rent.” She points at the game board. When the boys finally lose interest in Monopoly, Frankie sends them up to bed. They both give Camila a hug before starting up the stairs.

“Let me just shower and I’ll take the couch tonight.” Frankie offers. Camila rolls her eyes.

“Be serious, Frankie. I’m not gonna make you sleep on the couch in your own house. I was hoping you might want me to sleep with you, seeing as I’m your girlfriend now.” She smirks. “But if you don’t want to, then I’m fine with the couch.” Frankie closes the distance between them.

“I’d love nothing more than to share my bed with you, baby. Maybe I’ll even show you why they call me ‘Catfish.’” He teases with a wink and begins kissing her neck while walking her backwards. Thankfully, the master bedroom is downstairs. He toes the door closed and leads her to his bed. She moves her hands to the hem of her shirt and starts pulling it up. Frankie reaches a hand out to stop her.

“Wait.” He says. She drops her hands and her gaze falls to the floor.

“Oh, sorry. If you don’t want to- I mean, we don’t have to.” She says quietly. Frankie hooks his fingers under her chin and gently lifts her head til her eyes meet his.

“Hey, it’s not that I don’t want to. I just don’t want you to feel like you have to.” He tells her. She doesn’t say anything so he takes a deep breath and continues. “It’s just, this is our first time spending the night together. I just want you to feel comfortable. I never want you to feel pressured.” He rubs his hands up and down her arms and he can feel her relax under him. She lets out a deep breath and nods her head.

“I promise, Frankie, I want this. I’ve wanted to for a while, I just- I just wasn’t sure what this was, and after my divorce…” she trails off. Frankie saves her from having to continue by slotting his lips between hers. She returns his kiss hungrily. He places his hands on her shirt, where hers had been previously, and peels the fabric up. Her hands only leave his body to allow him to pull her shirt over her head. Something snaps between them and suddenly they are ripping each other’s clothes off, kissing each other ravenously in between tossing articles of clothing wherever they land. Frankie grabs Camila’s thighs, just under her ass, and lifts her in his arms. Instinctively she wraps her legs around his trim waist and gasps when she feels the hard length of him fill the space between their bodies. She grinds her naked core down the length of him, and a growl reverberates low in his throat. He tightens his grip on her and sits on the edge of the bed. She wraps her arms around his shoulders and grips the curls at the nape of his neck. He moans into her mouth quietly and she swallows it down. She tugs even harder, eliciting a loud groan.

“Fuck, baby! Come here, I can’t wait any longer.” He says as he lays back on the bed. He grabs the meat of her thighs and urges her up toward his head. “I need to taste you, querida. Come sit on my face.” Camila doesn’t hesitate to acquiesce. She scoots up on her knees until she’s sitting on his chest. She’s been waiting for this just as long as Frankie has. She settles over his face and her body jolts with the first swipe of his broad tongue.

This is it for me, Frankie thinks with the first burst of her taste on his tongue. He’ll never do another line in his life if he gets to taste this pussy every day. She reaches down to grab his hair and he moans when she gives his curls a hard pull.

“Oh fuck, Frankie. Right there, baby.” She cries out. She begins grinding down on his face, taking what she needs from him. The action makes Frankie’s cock rock hard against the soft flesh of his stomach. His senses all feel heightened somehow, as if the taste of her pussy has lifted the fog that had settled over his life. Cleared the cobwebs from inside his brain. He tightens his grip on her thighs, pulls her down to his mouth further, not leaving any space, and begins to fuck her with his tongue. The noises she makes only spur him on, his nose grinds on her clit and her walls clench around his tongue. “Don’t stop, please, don’t fucking stop. I’m gonna come.” She pants out, barely audible. Frankie needs her to hurry up and come because he’s about to do the same. He’s not sure how much longer he can last. This is definitely not something he’s ever experienced. He’s about a minute away from coming, untouched, just from this. Suddenly, she stills over him, and the most beautiful sounds spill from her mouth, and her pussy gushes into his. Frankie can’t spare another second to even wait for her to come down from her orgasm. He grabs her tight and flips her onto the bed. Her legs fall open and he kneels between them.

“I, uh- I don’t have a condom.” He admits. “It’s been a while since I’ve been with anyone.” He assures her. She nods while pulling him closer.

“I haven’t been with anyone since my divorce and I have an IUD. I trust you, Frankie.” She says. He doesn’t wait any longer. He nudges the tip of his cock into her dripping entrance. She’s absolutely soaked from his saliva and her own arousal, but it’s still a tight fit. He stills over her, needing a moment to gather himself. He’s about to blow his load then and there, and that’s not exactly the impression he wants to make.

“Fuck, baby. Just give me a second. You’re so goddamn tight.” He screws his eyes tightly shut. Even looking at her is too much for him. He takes several deep breaths and Camila runs her hands across his shoulders and down his arms. When he finally feels composed enough to show her a good time, he slides all the way in. One smooth stroke and he suddenly knows what heaven feels like. The velvet heat of her walls mold to him, like she was made for him. He fills her up completely, like he was made for her. Frankie could die right now, a happy man. He knows that he’ll never need anything else, anyone else. He fucks into her at a brutal, punishing pace. Like his life depends on it, and in a way it does. He wants to ruin even the idea of another man for her. Wants to be all she can think about it, all she wants. When he finds the spot inside her that makes her cry out his name and claw at his back, he fucks her even more desperately. He can tell she’s close, the way she’s squeezing him. He grinds his pubic bone into hers, putting just the right amount of pressure on her throbbing clit, and she comes undone for him. She comes so hard that her muscles squeeze him out, and she cries for him to put it back in. The second he does, his own orgasm follows. He finds his release buried to the hilt in the wet warmth of her cunt, and he knows that he needs to find a way to keep her like this, under him, surrounding him, forever.

Camila spends the next few nights at Frankie’s house. He takes her to work in the morning after they drop the boys off at school. He picks her up in the evening and takes her back to his house where he cooks dinner for the four of them. Frankie doesn’t want it to ever end. But he knows it’s too soon to ask her to move in. They’ve only been seeing each other for a little over a month. He doesn’t want her to think he’s crazy. But what if she feels it too? This string that keeps them connected, tugs them closer together with each passing day. Maybe he just needs to give her a little motivation. Five days after her tire was slashed, Frankie picks Camila up from work in her own car. He took it to have the tire replaced while she was at work, as a surprise. He likes being the person she depends on, the person she can count on. He likes knowing that she’s gotten to work safely, that she made it home okay. But he knows how much she appreciates her freedom, having been married to an asshole who wanted to control every aspect of her life. Frankie didn’t want to control her. That wasn’t the reason for his actions. He just wanted her to have the chance to see how well he would take care of her. How good he could be to her. That he could keep her safe. She spends that night at his house as well. He makes a comment about how much he likes seeing her car next to his truck in the driveway. She smiles in response.

“You trying to hint at something, Catfish? ’ She teases. He just shrugs his shoulders, trying to play it cool. She doesn’t need to know that it takes every ounce of his self control to not drop to his knees right there and ask her to move him, to marry him, to spend her life with him. She returns to her own home for the weekend, to give Frankie some alone time with Diego and Mateo. He takes them to Academy to buy supplies for their upcoming camping trip. They are old enough now to have their own tent. Besides, Frankie has a few plans in mind for his tent.

The week leading up to their camping trip the boys are at their mom’s house. Frankie spends a few nights at Camila’s house, coming and going as he pleases since she gave him his own key. She feels better knowing that he’s there, keeping an eye on things. She’s told him her suspicions about who has been wreaking havoc at her home. She thinks the chances of it being her persistent coworker are slim. She is much more convinced that Charlie, her ex husband, must be behind it. She had changed the locks when he moved out, but had Frankie change them again after her tire was slashed. When he finished he handed her the extra keys and she handed one back to him. He cocked his eyebrow in confusion, she just closed his fingers around the key and said

“Just in case, you know? For emergencies.” He had felt such joy, and a strange sense of pride, every time he used it since then. Not that he would be needing it today. He had parked his truck a few streets away, tucked into a quiet alley. He was wearing a black hoodie and jeans paired with black hiking boots he had bought at Academy last weekend with his boys. As he slips over the fence into Camila’s backyard, he slides a black ski mask over his face and black nitrile gloves, two pairs, over his hands. He slinks across the yard, well hidden by the privacy fence. When he arrives at the sliding glass door he gives it two swift kicks near the door handle. The glass shatters with the first kick, the second provides a nice hole to stick his arm through. He’s careful not to nick himself on the glass, he can’t have any evidence of his involvement lying around. He had sent Camila a text before he left his house, letting her know that he was going to grab lunch with Benny this afternoon. He had left his phone at home, just in case anyone ever checks his location services. As soon as he finishes up here, he’ll be meeting Benny at their favorite barbecue spot. With his alibi intact, Frankie goes about trashing Camila’s house. He’s chosen his targets carefully. The table next to the door where she keeps her mail and other semi-important papers. The drawers of her dresser, where he tosses her clothes around the room. The drawers of her nightstand. The box in her closet that has some sentimental items in it. He finds the divorce decree and rips the documents in half, leaving them on her bed. Every single move he makes is setting up Charlie to take the fall for this. Frankie might actually feel bad for how good of a job he’s doing if Charlie wasn’t such a piece of shit.

Once he’s finished, he sneaks back out of the sliding glass door, across the yard and over the fence. He takes the hoodie and ski mask off, balling them up and tossing them in a trash can in the alley. The gloves and boots find their way into separate trash cans as well. He drives the speed limit on his way home, not willing to risk a ticket this time. He runs inside to grab his phone and then heads off to enjoy a nice lunch with his friend. They hammer out a few details about their camping trip that’s in a few days and part ways. Just as Frankie is about to turn onto his street, his phone rings. He can barely understand Camila through the tears, but that’s okay, he doesn’t need to. He pulls into the closest driveway and turns around, heading back in her direction. When he pulls to a stop at the curb, the police are already there. He catches her eye when he steps onto the lawn and she excuses herself from the officer she is speaking to and runs to him.

“Baby! What’s going on? Are you hurt?” Frankie asks, holding her at arm’s length to look her body up and down.

“I’m fine, babe, I swear.” She promises. Her eyes still shine with tears and the whites of them are bloodshot.

“What happened, querida ?” She sniffles a little and buries her face in his chest. He can tell she is trying not to fall apart, and he wraps his arms around her and holds her tight. Maybe he took it too far, this time.

“Someone broke into my house and trashed it.” She explains. “The police think it was Charlie. Damn it! We just changed the locks.” She looks up at Frankie and takes a deep breath.

“Do you think we can change them again?” He rubs his hand up and down her back, comforting her.

“Of course we can, baby. I’ll go to Home Depot right now.” Camila shakes her head at that.

“No, it's fine. I’ll just stay the weekend with you since we are leaving to go camping Sunday morning. We can just do it when we get back.”

That night, in bed, Camila is laying with her head on Frankie’s chest and her leg thrown over both of his. “What if I don’t change your locks?” He asks quietly.

“What do you mean?” She asks while absently drawing with her fingers on his bare chest.

“What if you just moved in with me, instead” her fingers stop for a moment, then resume their trailing.

“Okay.” She says, taking Frankie by surprise.

“Really?” She looks up at him and furrows her brow.

“Unless you aren’t sure.” She says. He grabs her chin gently and tilts her head until she can see his face.

“Of course I’m sure. I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t. I just thought I’d have to do a little more convincing.” He tells her. The earnestness in his face makes her heart melt.

“I don’t feel safe at my house anymore. But I always feel safe with you. I think- Frankie, I think I love you.” Tears sting his eyes then because he’s known for weeks that he loves her, he was just waiting, til he was sure she felt the same, to let her know.

“I love you, too, baby.” He says. Then he leans down and seals his proclamation with a kiss. They spend all of Saturday making sure everything they need for their trip is packed and stuffed into the bed of Frankie’s truck. They order some Chinese for dinner and continue watching Narcos. After Camila falls asleep on the couch, Frankie sneaks out of the front door and walks the three blocks to Vanessa’s house. Twenty minutes later, he’s back in his own house, waking Camila up and taking her to bed. If anyone were to ever ask, she’d say Frankie was home with her all night.

They leave the house early the next morning to go pick up the boys. Vanessa had offered to drop them off, but Frankie had insisted. They’d have to pass by her house anyways, and Frankie didn’t want her driving the boys in her car, not today. Camila stays in the truck while Frankie knocks on the door. Vanessa answers the door and rolls her eyes when she sees Camila.

“You didn’t tell me she was going.” She snips. Frankie just shrugs his shoulders in reply.

“I don’t have to tell you shit, Vanessa. You should get used to seeing her around, anyways. We’re moving in together when this trip is over." She crosses her arms over her chest and shakes her head.

“I can’t believe you Frank. We just got divorced.” Frankie laughs.

“Yeah after you kicked me out, over a year ago.” She huffs at him, clearly pouting.

“Don’t forget about all the things I know, Francisco.” She warns one last time before the boys are bounding down the stairs and out the door.

“See ya around, Vanessa.” He tells her, closing the door behind him. The campground is a three hour drive. Camila commands the radio and Diego has the directions pulled up on his phone. Mateo chatters away, in that way that little kids always do, about nothing in particular. When they arrive they find Santi, Will and Benny already there. They’ve already got their own tents put up and a fire going. The boys run to hug their uncles while Camila and Frankie unload the truck. Santi takes the boys to go fishing with Benny, while Will helps Frankie put up their own tents. They eat fresh caught fish for dinner and the adults drink too many beers. They all wake up late in the morning the next day and when Frankie checks his phone he sees multiple missed calls. The signal isn’t great this far out, so he isn’t surprised that he missed them. Several are from Vanessa’s sister. A few from her mother. Since none of them are from Vanessa herself, Frankie can guess what this is about. He tries to return the calls but none of them will connect. He shoves the phone back into his pocket and smiles. Seems like his plan worked. Nobody will be threatening him or his brothers anymore. He thinks, in time, his boys will come to love Camila as their mother. He finally has everything he wants, exactly where he wants it.

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rafferty3207 · 11 months

Note

omg I'm the anon who requested the jamie x reader neighbours fic and boy you delivered! fucking love it! can't wait for part 2

This is so lovely anon, I'm so glad you liked it!!! For you, I will deliver a part two with the caveat that I'm so sorry I got carried away and now it will be in three parts (sorry again), but the last part will be the finale!!! Anyway I present to you:

Too Good to Be True (part two)

read part one here

warnings: allusions to abuse, mention of anxiety/panic attack, daddy issues, two hopeless idiots flirting, a bit of angst at the end but worth it (sorry again)

A/N: I have nothing to add except this gif is not mine and has turned me feral

It’s been several days since you left your phone number and you are nervous.

You don’t get why you care so much.

It’s just Jamie, your annoying neighbour. Your annoying, but also extremely handsome neighbour. Your annoying, handsome neighbour who massaged your feet, and your legs, and almost your thighs and god you couldn’t think straight. You’d been able to get nothing done as you had spent the last few days just constantly replaying that evening in your head. And to make things worse, it turns out Annoying Handsome Jamie was in fact a very famous Premier League footballer. Who has also been caught having sex on TV. (Yes, you had binged the entirety of his Lust Conquers All series since that night, but that was neither her nor there.)

After almost a week you had given up. The exhibition was just under two weeks away and you hadn’t seen him in the garden or outside the house at all. He had probably come to the conclusion that you were both too weird and too normal for him and the only conclusion was move on with your life and forget his stupid sexy face ever existed, when you got a text.

u free tonight

Jxoxo

Of course, you wanted to play it cool. After all, you had spent the entirety of the week waiting for this message.

29 minutes and 59 seconds later.

I might be.

The phone immediately pings.

do u not know??

xoxo

Depends, what are you thinking?

thought u wanted a model

Xoxo

Of course, he was thinking about the painting. As you also definitely were. You were a professional artist. Almost.

What time?

ill come after the match

You spend your evening preparing and also perhaps figuring out an outfit that says 'casual bohemian artist that definitely doesn't care' while redoing your makeup twice. However, as the hours stretch on and on and on you are at the point of giving up and going to bed, when the doorbell finally rings.

You race down, before waiting a minute, quickly checking yourself in the mirror and pulling out your phone to pretend you had already been looking at something when you open the door.

But before you can pull the casual act, he walks right past you.

“Hello to you too, Jamie.”

He strides into your living room where the canvas is set up and immediately starts taking his clothes off.

“Woah, what do you think you’re doing there?”

“Er, I thought you were painting nudes?”

“Er no-” At this point his shirt has already come off and he’s starting to unbutton his trousers. Of course he is very toned, with tanned arms and neck where his football shirt has been. You feel the breath knocked out of your body, glimpsing the very top of his boxers as you struggle for words.. He looks at you confused. Eventually you stutter an answer. "K-Keep the trousers on, okay?”

“What should I do then?”

“What do you mean?”

“How do I pose, like?” You shrug.

“However you want to, Jamie.”

“I dunno what I want.” You sigh.

“You just need to stand there and look pretty.”

“Well I do that all the time, so.”

“Great. So just…keep doing that.”

Jamie smiles to himself.

“What is it?”

“So you do think I’m pretty?” He smirks at you. You fold your arms.

“What are you, a sixteen year old girl Jamie?” You start sketching. “Besides, you know what you look like.” You go back to drawing in silence. You swear you see his cheeks dust pink for a second before he ouffs his chest back out and smiles.

“Aren’t you going to ask if I think you’re pretty?”

You freeze.

“No, because if you haven’t noticed, I’m not sixteen. I am an adult woman and I don’t need random men for unsolicited affirmation, no matter how pretty they are.”

Jamie opens his mouth, before closing it again. Maybe that was a bit harsh, but what else could you say? Tell me how pretty you think I am Jamie. Or better yet, show me. I’m dying to know. You could practically feel the feminism leaving your body.

You dismiss these thoughts and get back to sketching. You can see Jamie is looking down and acting fidgety, swinging his arms.

“Oh, for Christ’s sake.” You walk over and plant your arms on his shoulders. He is surprisingly warm and firm to the touch, and you try not to blush. “Is it okay if I move you?”

He nods, surprisingly quiet. You turn him ever so slightly, before gently pushing him down onto your stool. As you move one of his (very muscly) arms, you swear you feel a slight tremor. Was he shaking? You step a little closer, a hand on his back.

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, Jamie.”

His face hardens.

“But I said I will, so I will.”

“But you don’t have to. Only do this if you want to.” You smile at him, and his face softens again.

“I do want to, trust me. It’s just been a long day.”

“Okay, but if you need to stop or take a break, just say the word.”

You step back to your canvas. You try to focus solely on the drawing, but every time he looks at you, you find your whole body heating up. Despite this, you steal glances anyway. He stares at you constantly, in a way that makes you feel stupid and giggly. Observing all the soft and hard lines of his body, you eventually start to notice small scars all over his body until you reach his hands. You don’t know why it took you so long to notice, but his knuckles are slightly bruised.

“Jamie?”

“Yeah?”

“Tell me about your day.”

“Why? It was dead boring.”

“I don’t know. I find it helps me find the right mood.” You prepare your brushes. “You know, it tells me what colours to use.”

“Oh. I mean, nothing much happened.” He looks down at his feet. “I got up, went to play football, came here.”

“But why did you text me? Why today?”

“I dunno.” You sit in silence for a moment, as you mix the colours. “I mean, my dad came to the match.”

“Right.”

“Pulled his usual shit.”

“Usual shit?”

“Just being a complete dickhead.” You start painting.

“In what way?”

“Saying stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?”

“Just the usual stuff.”

“You keep saying “usual” Jamie. I don’t think whatever he said is usual for most people.”

“What about your dad? He said that thing about you being a teacher right? Because you couldn’t paint or summat?” You put your brush down.

“Yeah he did say that. He says a lot of shit, none of which I would consider usual. Or at least it shouldn’t be.” You step off your chair and towards Jamie, reaching gently for his hand. “We don’t just have to take this shit, you know.”

“I don’t fucking take it!” He pulls away. You flinch back. He looks alarmed as he realises. “I should go.” He starts to walk out.

“Jamie, I didn’t mean to upset you -” You walk after him as he paces towards the door. He halts at the entrance.

“I’m not upset, I just - I came here because I didn’t want to think about my dad. When I’m with you, I never think about him. Or anything else, really.” He pauses. “I’m sorry.” Before you can reply, he runs off.

The next few days pass by. You send a few texts to Jamie, but no reply. The exhibition is only a couple of days away now, so you try to keep yourself busy. But his words won’t stop swirling in your head to the point you struggle to sleep. So you do what you always do: paint.

It’s not until one of these nights when you're up late at the canvas that you glance out of the window. Your heart stops. Someone is lying in Jamie's garden, very still. You dare to look closer. Is that..Jamie? He looks glassy eyed. He can't have...Without thinking, you run down.

"Jamie! Jamie!" Your heart is thumping in your ears so loudly you can't hear anything else. "Jamie are you okay?" You ask as you scramble to climb the fence. However just as you are almost over, you catch your foot, spectacularly falling over it into the bushes. You hear that trademark laugh.

"Why are you laughing? I thought you were dead, dipshit!" You say, crawling out of the shrubbery.

He remains lying down but he’s smiling at you now.

"Why would you think I was dead?"

"Why are you lying in your garden on your back completely still at 2am? Let's not pretend this is normal." You crawl down next to him.

“You’re going to think I’m stupid.”

“No I won’t.”

He looks away from you.

“I mean everyone else does, why wouldn’t you?”

“I don’t think they do.”

“There’s my dad. Plus, I’ve read Twitter.”

“You know how I feel about your dad and Twitter is full of very stupid people. But never mind them. I can promise you I don’t. And let’s be honest, I’m the only opinion that matters.” He scoffs as you offer him a pinky. But, he puts his pinky in yours before looking back up at the night sky.

"I can't get up."

"What? Are you injured?"

“No…I dunno, I told you it was stupid."

“It's clearly not that stupid. Are you okay Jamie?”

"I dunno. I was thinking about the other night with you and my dad and then I came outside because I needed some fresh air and then I lay down and started thinking about everything and now it feels like I'm stuck here. It's stupid -"

“Stop saying that.” You lie down and grab his hand. “Sometimes when you've gone through some shit, it comes out of your body in weird ways. But you're okay. We can stay here for as long as you like, but when we get up, you will be able to.”

He nods, and the two of you lie there holding hands in silence. You take some deep breaths and he follows. Eventually a small voice pipes up.

“I think I can go in now.”

You sit up and slowly pull him.

"See?"

He smiles at you gingerly before he looks down.

“You’re bleeding.”

“Huh?”

You look down. Both your knees are cut, along with one of your palms and your wrist.

“Yeah, that makes sense.”

He gently holds your wrist up to the light. He looks sad.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I need to work on my graceful dismount. Either that or just walk around to the back door.”

“I mean, I dunno, I think you could give Simone Biles a run for her money.” You swat him.

“Oi, you cheeky shit! Next time I’ll just leave you for dead.”

“I think the blood loss is going to your head, we should treat that ASAP.” He leads you into his house. “I think I’ve got a first aid kit upstairs.”

He starts walking up and you follow him. He seems surprised. You realise your error.

“Oh, I can wait downstairs if you like.”

“Er, no, it’s fine.” He steps into a bedroom and starts rummaging around in what is clearly an ensuite bathroom. You sit on the edge of his bed and look around. There’s pictures of him and his mum, as well as some pictures with the team and one with a slightly older moustachioed man.

“Is that your dad?”

He pokes his head out and laughs.

“No, that’s our coach Ted.” You look up at him. “He’s a nice guy though. Annoyingly nice. Almost too nice, if you know what I mean.”

“Right.” It was clear Jamie was soft on this man, but you wouldn’t push it today. He sits down and starts gently wiping the cuts. It is the same tenderness he held your foot, and it is the same tenderness that is slowly melting your heart. If you didn’t know any better, you would think you were starting to fall for Jamie Tartt.

You yawn as he applies the final plaster. “Right, you need to go to sleep.” He says, through his own yawn.

"I could say the same for you"

You sit up to leave, but hesitate. YOu feel Jamie’s about to say something.

“Hey, I don’t suppose.. You’d maybe fancy…”

You turn around.

“Staying around?”

Jamie looks at you pleadingly.

“No funny business I promise.” He looks up and offers you a pinky.

“What if I want funny business?”

“Eh?”

“I’m just messing with you Jamie. Besides, I’ve already stolen your knickers anyway.”

“Someone told me that’s a weird thing to say to people.”

“Well, that person sounds very wise.” You look around. “Can I use your bathroom?”

He gestures towards it and you go in. Looking at yourself in the mirror, you think: what the fuck is going on here? You splash some water on your face and tell yourself to get a grip.

“There’s a spare toothbrush in the blue pot if you need it.” Jamie calls through the door.

“Ew gross Jamie, I don’t want to use one of your many girlfriend’s toothbrushes!”

“I’ll have you know that’s brand new as I don’t have any girlfriends at the moment. Although there are sanitary towels if you need them love.”

“Piss off you patronising git!”

“‘Ey, I was trying to be nice and a good feminist and that.”

You brush your teeth before coming out and leaning against the doorframe.

“No girlfriends? What happened to the Island’s top scorer?”

He groans before flopping back onto the bed.

“I thought you didn’t know who I was.”

“I’ve been doing my research.” You get into the bed next to him. He flashes you a dirty grin.

“Bet you have, you little perv.”

“Me? The perv? What you did in that jacuzzi was a crime to my eyes, and probably in several countries.”

“Woah, you have been doing your research - that was like episode 42? 43?”

“What can I say, you make good television?”

Jamie pulls the duvet back before hovering for a moment.

“You don’t have to do this, you know.” He gestures to the bed.

“I know. But I’ve been in your position before, and I really needed a friend back then. And I think you would do the same.”

“Any time.”

You squeeze his hand.

“Now go to sleep, you menace.”

“Aye aye captain.”

____

You wake up and find yourself once again not in your own bedroom. In fact, not only are you not in your own bedroom, but you appear to be cuddling Jamie Tartt. You panic silently. Your leg is swung over his, while his arm is draped over you. You try to move, but still asleep, he squeezes you a little tighter. And then something really surprising happens.

He kisses you. Just a little kiss on the forehead, but your chest is fluttering. You hate to admit it but, it feels just so natural. You’re so content and relaxed in his arms then…

Fuck. You fell back asleep. You’re in the exact same problem as before.

This time however, you are both awoken by Jamie’s phone going off. He reaches to switch it off, eyes still closed, but then it rings again. And again. The third time his eyes shoot open.

“Shit!”

“What is it?” You ask from behind bleary eyes.

“The match!”

You slowly sit up and watch him run around and get dressed, silently handing him things on occasion. He runs downstairs and you plod along after him, still half asleep. He runs out of the door, before abruptly stopping and turning around.

“Aren’t you going to wish me good luck or something?”

You wrinkle your nose at him in confusion.

“I don’t need to. You’re going to smash it anyway.”

“How do you know that?”

You shrug and smile.

“I just know.”

At this point, he strides right up to you, before cupping your face in both his hands.

“Jamie what are -” Before you can finish, he kisses you, hard. Your eyes flutter closed and you melt into the kiss, before he pulls away, but only just. His arm reaches around the small of your back and his forehead touching yours, he whispers.

“Wait for me.”

He runs off to his car, and you stroke your bottom lip, where you trace the swell of where he used to be.

Your heart is still pounding and you are unsure what to do with yourself, so you try to make yourself at home. You take a very long, hot shower before getting changed. Of course, you didn’t have any clothes here, so you find some pyjama shorts along with one of Jamie’s old jerseys.

You sit down to watch the match. You had never really gotten into football, but now you were glued to the screen. You couldn’t believe that the little Jamie on screen was the same one who shared a bed with you last night. And the same Jamie that kissed you…

The game is electric, and Jamie in particular is the standout player. Even the commentators remark on his zest this match as he keeps skilfully weaving through the players to lead Richmond into not one, not two but three goals.

Once the match is done, you watch, still glued to your seat when Jamie is invited to an interview.

“Jamie the way you played today was extraordinary, against Man City too. If you don’t mind us asking, what happened?”

“Ah well, I was really inspired by Simone Biles. She’s honestly changed my life.” At that moment, he turns straight to the camera, grins and winks, and you feel like he’s somehow winking right at you. Your heart skips a beat. You were really in trouble.

You look at your phone and Jamie Tartt is trending. Simone Biles herself has already tweeted reminding everyone she is a married woman and has never met Jamie. There are plenty of other women, including some famous other gymnasts and celebrities offering their Biles-like services to Jamie in some rather explicit tweets. You wonder if Jamie reads these ones too.

You walk to the kitchen to make yourself a cup of tea and as you wait for the kettle to boil, you look at Jamie’s calendar. There’s all sorts of notes, primarily training and matchs but you notice your exhibit is there too, with a little heart drawn around it. Jamie never stopped surprising you. But then a cold shock goes down your spine. You remembered today’s date. You are meant to be going to the gallery this evening to plan the exhibition. Shit. You check the time. You’ve still got three hours left, but you need to get back into your flat ASAP. You scramble around before realising that you had left your phone in the flat last night in the chaos to get out. But you also remembered Jamie and what he had said.

Wait for me.

You write a little note and stick it on the fridge.

____

Jamie comes back way later than he planned. Of course, after the match, there were drinks and celebrations but he couldn’t concentrate on them, just trying to leave to get back to you. He finally manages to break away, but when he gets home, he finds the living room empty. He searches around the rest of the house, and you are nowhere to be found. He checks his phone. No messages. He gets a message through from Keeley about how he’s trending online.

Of course he sees all the Simone Biles stuff and smiles to himself. He made a note to send Simone Biles a message in future, if this all worked out. Then he sees all the stuff other women are saying online. A lot of it is quite graphic and he wondered what you’d think. He imagined the two of you laughing together at them. Then he sees. The tabloids are already speculating. Not only do they actually think he’s having an affair with Simone Biles, but they have already posted some paparazzi shot of him with Keeley, along with long extensive timelines of his tumultuous dating history. His stomach drops. Anyone would run away if they saw this much baggage.

He tries to ring you. Once, twice, three times, No pick up. He’s desperate and pacing, until he realises he can just walk over to your front door. He rings the bell several times, before loudly knocking. Still nothing.

He can’t believe how much he’s fucked it. He knew he shouldn’t have kissed you, but he couldn't help it. No one had made him feel like this, like he was going crazy but also that he was calmer than he had ever been, like riding a lifeboat in the centre of the storm. As he walks back into his flat and into his kitchen, he doesn’t see the small corner of a note that has fallen under the fridge. He checks his phone again.

Still nothing. What could he do?

____

Sorry for the angst kids, hope it was worth it and the finale will be juicy!! lmk if you want to be tagged in the final part!! Not sure if I've done these tags right, apols if not!!

@skewedcherries @e-mmygrey @reading-blogs @alex-sulli @cameoutstruggling93 @sqrlgrl22 @maydayfigment @aiyaiy @alipap3 @okkkkkkksure @city-of-cards

#ted lasso #ted lasso fanfic #jamie tartt x reader #fanfic #romance #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt

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prettiestgrlinthemorguexo · 4 months

Text

Swipe (Lucifer Morningstar x reader) Preview

This is a preview of my WIP fanfic for Lucifer, it’s a three parter and this is a small about of part 1, since it’s still a WIP it’s not yet proof read :) Description: after his divorce, he finally gets back into the dating game…through a dating app :)

Please note I’m writing this before the release of ep7 and ep8 so-

Takes place between ep 5 and right before ep 6

I wrote nearly 98% of this at like 3 AM-

⛧☾༺♰༻☽⛧ ⛧☾༺♰༻☽⛧ ⛧☾༺♰༻☽⛧

Lucifer’s POV

“Charlie!”

Lucifer..

Luci…

Luc…

Luca..

Y/N POV

Left..Left..Left..

…Right.

#x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer morningstar x reader #Lucifer morningstar #lucifer morningstar x you

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sspidrwebz · 5 months

Text

🎧 Airpods | Gwen x Fem!Reader

word count | 1785 notes | fluff, wlw, no physical desc of reader, no mention of y/n

also this is my first fic!! feel free to req anything or give me constructive criticism!!

fluff under the cut!! <33

You were bored and lonely this weekend, so you decided to make the relatively short journey to your friend Gwen’s house. Her dad was gone for what you could only assume would be most of the day, and you figured it would be nice to have some calming alone time with her.

Now, you’re both laying on her bed, sharing a pair of Airpods and listening to soft indie music together. You’ve been like this for a long time, staring at the ceiling without a word said for hours. That is, until you catch her staring at you with a faint smile on her face.

You can’t help smiling a bit back at her as you turn to face her. “What’re you smiling about?” you ask curiously.

There’s a certain brightness to her eyes that gives you a warm feeling. “Just looking at you,” she replies, before pausing for a few moments, looking into your eyes unblinkingly, a sort of calm focus on you. “Probably a little weird to say, but I've honestly never really had the chance to just stare at you, y'know?”

Your smile grows a bit wider at her answer, and you find yourself blushing a little. "O-Oh, well.. I suppose not, huh?" you agree with a flustered laugh, having been caught off guard by the comment.

"Mhm." She keeps smiling at you before looking out the window, seeming to think for a little bit in silence. "This is really nice, y'know?" She looks back over to you. "Just… us. Like this." And she motioned to both you and the bed. "This is probably the most relaxed I've felt in a while. It's nice being able to just exist next to you."

Her words create a warm feeling in your heart that you couldn't ignore if you wanted to, and for a minute you just look at her happily before sighing pleasantly and looking back up to the ceiling in thought.

You two remain in the comfortable silence for a few moments before Gwen decides to speak up again, her voice soft and sweet. "This probably sounds stupid, but..." She sighs softly. "Is it alright if I hold your hand?" she mumbles, not looking over at you as if to hide her slight embarrassment at her own request.

The blush on your face is definitely noticeable after that, but your voice is still somewhat calm, calm enough to not be read as easily as your face. "Yeah, that's fine with me," you simply reply, letting your hand lay palm facing up on the bed as your arm reaches out for her.

Without even hesitating, she reaches out her hand to take yours. Immediately, she feels safe. There’s something about her best friend being so close, so warm, so comforting that makes her feel a little more at ease. Gwen squeezes your hand lightly and brings it slightly closer to her side, placing her free hand underneath it. It’s a small gesture, but a loving and tender one.

After a few minutes of more silence, you finally speak up again. When you do, your voice is soft and gentle, and you don't bother looking away from the ceiling as you talk to her. "You make me feel safe." There's a bit of a pause as you think to yourself. "I've always been the girl who just… I don’t know. It’s just hard to make, like- genuine friends, you know? I used to dream of having these kinds of moments with people, and I guess I’m just… really happy I get to have it with you."

Her lips curve up in a slightly embarrassed smile. She knows it’s cheesy as hell what she’s about to say and knows she’s going to cringe at herself afterwards, but she doesn’t care. "I always thought a boyfriend was supposed to be the one who made me feel safe, but if I'm being honest I've felt the most safe and at home with you." She squeezes your hand again. "I know that's probably so lame and cliche, but I can't help it. It's just the truth."

You snicker softly in response. "Can't relate to that much, especially since I'm gay as hell," I add with another slight laugh. "But I get what you mean, and... I'm glad we can be like that."

Gwen chuckles with you. Your response was unexpected, but it was a good mood lifter. She brings her thumb up to slowly run it along the outside of your hand and the top of your wrist. The movement is small, but it’s comforting.

"Do you think this is what a boyfriend feels like?" She asks you curiously. "I know some people say it's a completely different feeling between a friendship and, like- an actual relationship, but… the way we are kinda feels like one of those romance books sometimes.”

You shrug a little. "Maybe. I honestly wouldn't know. Never had a girlfriend myself, so I have no clue what romance even is at this point. My brain just kinda says 'women are cool' and just skips out on the instructions for how to get one or something.”

She chuckles again. "Same, honestly. I just look at girls and think they're cute." She paused, her brows furrowing in thought. "I've always wondered how it would feel to be with a girl. Like, is it that much different from being with a guy or…? I've never really had the balls to ask that question or test it myself so, there's that.”

You shrug again, thinking to yourself as I answer her. "I dunno. I mean, I always kinda hated men, so I'm kinda biased to make a statement on it. But if I were to guess, yeah; it's probably different. Maybe not too much, but enough."

She hums, her brows knitting again. "It's crazy that we're like, almost the same." She giggled and looked over at you with a playful smile. "Like, have you ever kissed a girl before?"

She hesitates. "Sorry, I know that's a loaded question but I'm trying to test this boyfriend feeling I have."

You nod with a smile, turning to her finally. "Yeah. Only once, though."

Gwen's heart speeds up as she tries not to get too excited with the answer you gave her. "I was hoping you would say that." She takes a deep breath. "Can I ask you to do something for me?"

I turn a little more toward her after she asks me this. "Yeah, sure. What's up?"

Gwen's cheeks pink instantly as she speaks her next words quietly. "Would you be willing to kind of… show me what it's like to kiss a girl? I've always wondered what it's like, and I trust you a lot so I know you probably won’t hate me if I ask..” She looks away from you slightly, embarrassed by her request. "Sorry if that's weird."

Your face goes red for a moment, but you smile in a bit of amusement to better hide your flustered state. "Oh! Well... well, do you want to? I can if you want me to, I just wanna, like... make sure."

Gwen's face lights up with relief and excitement. "Oh, yeah! I mean, if you're up to it." There’s a moment of silence, Gwen's eyes looking away from you while she’s thinking. Finally, she looks back over at you with a grin, getting closer to you on the bed. "Just… don’t make fun of me if I'm bad at this."

You chuckle softly. "Nah, I wouldn't do that to you," I say, smiling as I sit up from my spot for a moment. “Besides, everyone’s bad at romance and stuff at some point, right?”

She giggles quietly, bringing her face over towards you and closing the distance between them to mere inches. Her blue eyes, now with flecks of green in them when exposed to the sunlight from the window, stare directly into yours. Her lips look soft and pillowy, and she wants nothing more than to feel your mouth against hers, though she can’t quite tell why. "So… how is this supposed to work? Can I just kiss you, or… do we wait for the three seconds of staring like we’re in a Hallmark movie?”

You can't help laughing again at her joke. "Don't be silly, Gwen, Hallmark doesn't have the balls to be gay," you say before going silent and just staring between her eyes and her lips, slowly leaning in.

Gwen's eyes close in anticipation as she feels you starting to lean in. Her heart is beating so fast it’s all she can feel. She’s so close that she can feel your breath against her lips. When you finally close the gap, your lips meeting hers with just enough pressure for you both to feel it. Gwen breathes out softly and lets a small moan slip out. The feeling of your lips against hers is electric. She feels like the world has temporarily stopped and that nothing exists but herself and you.

The sound she makes genuinely sends a shock through you, and a good one too. You kiss her slow and gentle, but there's something so intimate about the moment itself that you could never describe even with all the words in the world.

It’s as if she could feel every part of your body against hers. Your arms around her, your hands grazing against her body, your face touching hers. The moment is all she could think about. You were everything.

Her hands rest on the back of your neck as she tilts her head slightly to the side for the most optimal spot for kissing. It’s better than any romance movie, any kiss she’s ever had with a guy, any dream she's had about being with a woman. This is real and she couldn't be more grateful for it.

You could go on like this forever if you wanted to, but after a few more seconds you force yourself to slowly pull away from the kiss, from her, and as you do your eyes slowly open again and the entire time, they're locked on hers.

Up until now, the music in your ear had faded into the background, and your brain hadn’t been recognizing any other sound except your thoughts. But now, as you finally allow yourself to listen, eyes still locked on hers, you recognize the song almost immediately. Girls by Girl in Red. Of course. You smile widely.

“Gwendolyn Maxine Stacy, you listen to Girl In Red? And still thought you were straight?” you tease, nudging her very lightly. She just smiles back, face as red as yours, if not more.

“I think it’s safe to say I’m definitely not.”

im probably gonna do a hobie one next, so stay tuned if you wanna see that!! love yall, see ya soon!!

#gwen stacy #across the spiderverse #spiderverse #into the spider verse #ghost spider #spider gwen #gwen stacy x reader #gwen stacy x y/n #gwen stacy x fem!reader #gwen stacy x fem reader #gwen stacy wlw

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wh0s-vesper · 7 months

Text

Head canons on each Gwendoline Christie Characters

(NSFW AND SFW)

———————————————————————————————————

Captain Phasma

- She’s a lover(sometimes.) Since the girls a captain, she’ll have barely time to ever do anything romantic with you.

- If she gets the chance, she’ll eat you out. As in ‘eat you out’ like there’s no tomorrow. So be prepared to get overstimulated, cuz your girl is going to get pussy drunk.

-Phasma’s a hard dom, convince me otherwise.

-Phasma would love you, totally. But when she does, it’s not like ‘pda’ kind of love. She’ll much rather write letters in her holopad on how she appreciates your existence.

-You can’t tell me that Phasma doesn’t have master/daddy kink. I MEAN LOOK AT HER.

——————————————————————

Lady Jane Murdstone

OUR GIRL DOESNT GET ENOUGH CREDIT, SHE DID AMAZING IN THE TEN MINUTES SHE GOT ON SCREEN.

-Missma’am would devour your cunt. She’ll get power drunk, pussy drunk, probably drunk herself.

-Mistress kink, obviously.

-Woman likes to tease you occasionally, depends on her mood of the day. If she does tease you, Jane would subtly touch your waist and squeeze it, surprising you.

-I’m guessing that she has knife play or likes it rough, cuz for the love of god, Jane can’t go by a day without hitting, destructing, or destroying something.

-Her hands are highly skilled. At anything, from sewing to fucking your cunt, she is a master(or mistress) at the skill. And at times, she’ll even brag about it.

-Janes LOADED. Jewels, designer dresses, the works. She’ll spend at least a few hundred dollars on you(maybe a thousand even) on one shopping trip.

——————————————————————

Jan Stevens

-This is going to be ironic(and debatable ig) but Jan doesn’t like food a lot, especially in her bed. The most she could do/want/tolerate is wine and like a charcuterie board in bed.

-Role playing, girl wants to be someone else for a bit. Being Jan Stevens is hard yk.

-Hugs, cuddles, kisses, the works. She loves it when you do that, especially the thing where you kiss her neck cuz she’s too tall for you to kiss on the lips.

-Honestly, she’s a switch. She’s giving mommy/mistress energy, but at the same time our girl needs a break from being the leader so bratty/needy bottom Jan it is.

-The needy move. OML, I can’t tell you enough on how she’ll act needy(borderline bratty) just for you to end up in bed.

-Jan is a freak in bed. If she’s a freak at her job, she’ll bring that energy to the bed. (In a good way, obv)

—————————————-

Larissa Weems

-Woman is afraid of germs. Or in other words a germaphobe. I mean, the gloves, the way she’s always kept to herself. It explains somewhat a part of her personality.

-Larissa is rich. Like rich, rich. I’m guessing that she was an only child and her parents died, leaving her with the big-ass fortune.

-Speaking of rich, Larissa is very stingy about her money, only spending it on her lover. So when you eye a necklace or bracelet, she’ll by ten.

- Mirror sex kink. I mean a mirror as her ceiling? It’s gotta count for something. Also adds a bit of spice to her sex life.

-Girls a cuddler. She loves a hug or two just to simply know that someone’s cares for her. Every once in a while she’ll ask or you’ll just simply give it to her.

-Larissa likes PDA, but to a certain level. She’s not like a full on make out session anywhere, but more like a few kisses here or there throughout the day.

————————————————

Brienne of Tarth

-Gentle giant. Brienne will act all mean and tough, but the moment she goes home and you greet her. The facade basically melts away.

-Okay, this will be debatable, but she’s a switch. At times Brienne will be a hard dom if she comes home from a rough day, or a soft dom when she wants a bit of sensual warmth. On the other hand, she’s a bottom, literally what she wants is to be loved and cared for.

-Briennes protective. It’s sort of her nature, but to her lover, it’s on a whole new level

-She loves all cuddles, every physical touch/interaction that you have with her, Brienne cherishes it. Bed cuddles, bath cuddles, morning cuddles, you name it. Also I think Brienne will sometimes switch to small spoon when she has a rough day, but otherwise she’s a big spoon.

- Woman will teach you on how to defend yourself, but never actually let you touch or use the weapons. Brienne wants to do the protecting since she thinks that only a knight could do that.(ofc she would only say that to her lover)

-Brienne doesn’t like quickies, she prefers to take her time with you. But if you seem to really want it, then she’ll do it.

#larissa x you #larissa weems #gwen is mommy #gwendoline christie #gwendoline is mommy #gwendolineuniverse #headcanon #jane #jane murdstone #larissa x reader #larissa x y/n #captain phasma x reader #captain phasma #jan stevens #Jan #head canons #head canon #mommy k!nk

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thecuriousquest · 8 months

Note

I absolutely love all of your yandere levi ackerman writing it’s sooo good!!

Could you do another one with yandere levi?

Reader is a cadet and levi forced her to be in a relationship with him. Then one day after Levi made reader spent a night in bed with him she gets a even more scared of him so much that the next day during odm training reader manages to escape. While Levi wasn’t looking or was occupied by the other cadets and nobody is able to find her for like 2 weeks? Maybe longer? And levi gets really agitated and distressed whenever he can’t find reader on like the 3rd day of her being missing.

And whenever he does find her he’s happy/ angry at her and locks her up and punishes her. Or maybe you can choose the ending. Either way I know it’s gonna be amazing!

I absolutely love your writing btw.

But if you’re not able to get to my request than that is more than ok I’m sure you get lots of wonderful requests from other followers!

Runaway Soldier

Tag Lists: @issamomma @repostingmyfavs @chickennugnugnug

Warnings: Yandere themes, NSFW, non con mentioning, murder, isolation punishment, possessive tendencies

I hope you enjoy! Thank you for being so supportive of my work!!! 🖤🤘

Master List here.

—————————————————————————

You run so far and so fast, you think your lungs might explode! It hurts to breathe. Everything burns from the cramp in your calves to the stitch in your side. Leaning against the brick wall, you pant a few heavy breathes before forcing yourself to keep going.

You arrive at your destination. The Underground. It’s an entirely different world down here, and you tread carefully, not knowing what to expect. You’ve only heard rumors about this place existing, but you didn’t know they were real up until this point.

Deciding that this is as good of a place as any, you take refuge in this little hole until you can get your bearings and leave. Sliding down a wall into a sitting position, you allow yourself to, briefly, rekindle what led you to this decision.

A night of terror: pure, unadulterated terror. Levi had cornered you, felt you up, threatened you in all sorts of physical ways. He told you to be a good girl and take what’s coming or suffer the consequences.

He raped you that night. Used you, made you feel like your only worth was in his bed, but you didn’t want that for yourself. No, you wouldn’t let that happen to you. That’s why you ran so fast when he was preoccupied the next day.

You had only the smallest window, being on kitchen duty as a punishment for putting up such a struggle in the beginning. However, you took it and escaped without a look over your shoulder. It tore you apart to leave the squadron when you became a soldier to do something productive with your life, something to benefit society.

Now, you feel like a coward, and no matter how you try to replay the facts in your mind, you can’t shake that nagging feeling.

———

Your first week in the Underground isn’t as bad as you thought it would be. You’re learning the rules quickly: keep your eyes down and don’t cause problems. You stay out of everyone’s way, and you even pick up a small job doing thug work with a group of misfits. Having some combat training, you’re able to lend a hand as the “muscle”.

By the third week, it seems as if your luck has run out. Word gets around that someone is making a name for themselves in the Underground, Levi’s previous home. He has a feeling he knows who it is since the timing adds up just right.

Your captain decides to pay his old neighborhood a visit with ulterior motives under his belt. He goes alone, and it doesn’t take long for him to find you when he sees you stomping someone’s stomach in as you’re surrounded by a group of losers.

“As much as I’m enjoying the show, we should get going now, don’t you agree?”

You freeze instantly. Hesitating for a few moments, you slowly turn to regard your captain with wide eyes.

“C-Captain? What are you doing here?”

He sighs deeply. “I could ask you the same question.”

“Who the hell is this freak, Y/N?” one of the guys in your little group asks.

“Someone who will kill you if you don’t shut up,” Levi quips.

“Go ahead and try, asshole!” he shouts, challenging Levi.

You put your hands up to try to prevent anything from happening.

“Please, stop! I’ll go with you, Levi!”

“That was never a question to begin with.” He turns on his heel, expecting you to follow behind him as he walks out.

Your friend grabs you by the arm. “Hey, you can’t leave us! We’re finally making a name for ourselves down here.”

Levi, agitated by the delay, decides to quickly cut this bastard’s arm off for touching what’s his. He lets the younger man lie there on the floor, screaming, blood squirting in different directions. He watches him for a time, studying his writhing movements, his pained expressions. How the young man curls in on himself, holding his arm to his blood covered chest.

He decides to kill him too, and stomps his head into the ground with the heel of his boot. Levi looks around at the remainder of your group. “Does anyone else have any objections to Y/N leaving?”

They all shake their heads.

“Good. Come now, cadet. We’ll be on our way.”

While he holds his head up on confident shoulders, yours slouch as you look down at the ground while trailing behind him. You know what’s in store for you, and you’re not looking forward to it at all.

———

It takes a while to get back to your squadron’s base with Levi, and dread fills you to the brim the entire journey.

“What the hell were you thinking, you damn brat?!” He shoves you roughly into a cell in the dungeon.

So, isolation, possible starvation, possible beating. Nobody will hear you scream, nobody will even know what’s going on.

You quiet a hiss on the tip of your tongue as you land on the cot. Looking up at Levi with a glare, you keep your lips clamped shut.

“I looked everywhere for you. I thought the worst had happened, but it just turns out you were being selfish.”

His clenched fist lands directly in the middle of your stomach. Breath flings from your lips, but your unable to draw in any air. You fall to your knees, clutching your middle with both arms.

Vomit builds in your mouth, spilling out onto the floor in front of you. It lands in a puddle right by your cot, chunks of potatoes visible in all of the bile.

You wipe your chin with the back of your sleeve and glare at him, trembling slightly with outrage at his claim. “Me? I was the one being selfish? You forced yourself on me! What was I supposed to do?!”

“Be quiet!”

A sharp slap connects with your cheek, turning your head. You bump against the cot with the movement.

“Say ‘hello’ to your new home because you’re not going anywhere for a long time until I think I can trust you again.”

He locks the door, key rattling in the lock. Standing up on quivering legs, you walk over to the barrier, placing your hands on the bars. “Levi, you can’t keep me down here!”

“Would you rather be whipped for running away from your responsibilities as a soldier? If that’s what you want, I can certainly make that happen.”

You shake your head, the realization of how bad your situation is beginning to dawn on you.

“So, what? You’re just going to leave me to rot down here?”

Surprisingly, he reaches through the bars to gently touch your cheek. You barely feel it, like the fingers of a ghost.

“I would never leave you to rot. You’re mine. You will always be mine. No amount of running could change that.”

“Levi, I don’t like it down here.” A tear slips from your eye. “Please…”

“Well, it wouldn’t be much of a punishment if you did like it.”

He turns around, your pleas falling on deaf ears as he walks out of the dungeon, leaving you all alone.

#yandere #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere x darling #yandere themes #triggering content #triggering themes #attack on titan #attack on titan requests #yandere attack on titan #levi attack on titan #levi ackerman attack on titan #levi ackerman #yandere levi ackerman #yandere levi x reader #snk levi #captain levi

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farfromstrange · 1 year

Text

Ease The Pain | Matt Murdock x Reader

Pairing: Matt Murdock x afab!Reader

Summary: Matt helps to ease your period pains.

Warnings: SMUT (MINORS DNI), vaginal fingering, description of blood and period pain, use of "Good girl", hurt/comfort, praise kink

Word count: ≈ 3.1k

a/n: I love how Tumblr just keeps not showing my works in the tags so I have to post them again. Fun. Anyway! My period pains are the fucking worst. I hate my life. If men like him were real I'd sure feel a lot better. Anyway, I wrote this in like an hour or so because I'm that desperate. Hope you enjoy!

Pain.

That’s all you can feel in every inch of your body. The core of that pain lies in your lower stomach and back, but it has already spread to your head and the rest of your muscles, even your legs, and feet.

It’s Saturday, and you should be up and enjoying your free time but instead, you’re bound to the bed while the worst cramps of your existence ripple through your uterus as it brutally sheds its lining just because you chose not to get pregnant again this month.

Every position you try feels only comfortable for a split second before another surge of pain appears somewhere in your body, mostly your stomach, but every time a cramp hits, your head seems to explode too, and shifting is futile.

You’ve tried everything you could think of. Painkillers, heat, curling up into a fetal position, standing up, sitting down, you even took a hot shower, but none of it managed to take the pain away for more than a minute or two. So you have accepted defeat, realizing you don’t stand a chance against the monster that is mother nature. You decide to suffer in silence until the cramps ease up, which could take another day or two.

Every once in a while, your eyes flutter close and you find yourself blinking back to life a few minutes later disoriented and almost shaking from the pain. Another wave of cramps tears through your body, keeping you wide awake as you roll onto your side and pull your legs up to your chest.

The door to the bedroom opens and it creaks, which makes you grind your teeth. You feel the sudden urge to tear the glass apart, nerves thin from exhaustion, and the noise only adds to your pain.

“Sweetheart,” Matt’s voice is gentle from where he’s standing against the door frame.

You bury your face in your pillow. “Go away!” you groan. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” he says.

“You’re right, I’m not, but there’s nothing you can do about it. I just hate my fucking body right now and it hates me.”

“Well, at least you’re not pregnant.”

You lift your head to glare at his stupidly attractive person. He’s not wearing a shirt, that bastard, and his grey sweatpants are hanging dangerously low on his hips.

He ducks when you toss a pillow at his head. “Fuck off!”

He wants to laugh, but the sound of your pained moan into the pillow has him sprinting toward you. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m so sorry. If it’s that bad, maybe you should take some more Advil.”

He strokes over your upper arms, pulls the hair out of your face, and presses feather-light kisses to your shoulder blade, which feel soothing at first, but the cramps ruin it for you once again. You’re forced to switch positions, curling up on the other side of the bed.

Matt follows, sitting up against the headboard on his - previously your - side of the bed.

“I’ve already taken the full dose today,” you tell him. “If I take any more, I’m gonna have more problems than my fucking uterus stabbing me to death. Ugh!”

You hate this. You’re in pain, exhausted, and bleeding so badly, you’re sure you’re going to have to go to the bathroom soon. Every last contraction of your uterus has you cursing Eve for eating that stupid apple.

His hand moves from your arm to your lower back. Gently forcing you onto your stomach, he starts digging his fingers into the sore muscles of your pelvis. You sigh. Now that is something you haven’t tried yet, too embarrassed to ask him for help with something like this, but he doesn’t seem to mind. You keen into his touch, letting him loosen your muscles one by one. The cramps continue in the front, but the tension in your back finally releases and gives you a second to breathe.

“You need anything?” he asks, leaning over to nuzzle his face into your neck. “Tea, maybe? More pillows? Or do you want me to run you a bath?”

Sleep threatens to take over. “No,” you slur. His hands are working wonders and you start to question how you even deserve him. “Keep going. Feels good.”

Your approval is all he needs to knead firmer at the flesh protecting the bone of your pelvis. You melt into the mattress. His lips move back to your shoulder, leaving messy kisses over your heated skin.

“Ow, fuck!” The next sharp cramp directs itself toward your entire front, tearing your abdomen apart. “Why does this keep happening?” you cry. “I hate this!”

You’ve been suffering from periods for so long, you should have gotten used to it, but every month feels different, and sometimes worse.

“I’m sorry,” Matt says. “I wish I could help you.”

“Yeah, but you can’t. Too bad!”

That was rude.

You whimper a small apology into your pillow.

“It’s okay, I know you’re in pain. If it helps to yell at me, go right ahead.”

You want to laugh, but you’re too worn out to make any other sound than pained puffs of air from deep within your chest.

Another harsh cramp has him moving his arm around your body, his hand continuing the massage on your stomach now, and you can’t help it; The pressure offers sweet, sweet relief for the pain that has kept you on edge for the past eight hours and his touch sets every fiber of your being on fire. You push your hips back, wanting him to push his fingers deeper into the flesh. In response, his other arm comes to rest around your shoulders from the front, and he pulls you flush against him.

In his attempt to make you more comfortable though, he accidentally brushes over your sensitive nipples, and you moan, so oversensitive from the hormone outburst, it hurts.

He “accidentally” does it again, just to test a theory, and when you moan again, louder and higher this time, Matt realizes he just opened Pandora's box. You wouldn’t have asked him to even if it killed you, which it might, and he read somewhere that orgasms produce enough oxytocin to help with period cramps. He knows you don’t care much about studies, but he can’t deny that there is something plausible about this theory. Most importantly though, he just wants to help you. Hearing how much pain you are in hurts him, and he wants to stop your suffering in whatever way he can.

“I have an idea,” he breathes into your ear, fingers moving lower until he reaches the hem of your sleep shorts that you haven’t bothered taking off. “Do you trust me?”

Goosebumps erupt on your skin. He keeps sending electrical shocks down your spine with his touch alone and no matter how hard you try to refuse yourself such a lucrative treat, your body has a mind of its own during this particular time of the month. Even though you’re in pain, the arousal is only a foot away.

He pulls at the waistband when you don’t answer, letting it slap against your skin. It’s not painful, but you can feel the burn spread from your stomach straight to your core.

“But-” you try to interject.

He won’t let you. “Do you trust me, angel?” he asks.

“Always,” you say without hesitation.

“Then let me help you.”

You’ve never done this before. You’ve never let him touch you during your period before, ever, not since you got together. You’ve always felt far from sexy, bloated and bleeding, and moody most of the time, if you’re not uncontrollably eating whatever you’re craving before puking from the pain, but you can’t help the whimper that passes your lips this time when a certain gush of wetness that isn’t blood starts coating the walls of your cunt.

He’s shirtless and so incredibly hot, he looks almost biteable. His muscles flex, you can see every last dent in his bicep, and it grows seemingly two sizes every time he moves his hand to touch you.

The way he’s almost choking you with his elbow has you clenching around nothing. And it hurts because God, you’ve never been this sensitive, not even after several rounds of sex with him, but you don’t care. Your clit pulsates and it rubs against whatever fabric is closest. The friction is bittersweet. You try to move your hips to feel the same jolt of electricity again, to get rid of the pressure resting between the sore folds of your cunt, but you can’t seem to find relief.

Matt grows confident in his actions and starts to cup your breast ever so slightly. You gasp, tears shooting into your eyes. Your brain is fuzzy. Your body tingles. Your nipples get hard the second he brushes them, and the more he squeezes, the harder they seem to get. Your skin flashes hot. You’re not sure what feels better – the hand on your stomach or the one on your breast.

“Do you want to stay like this or can you sit up against the headboard for me?” you hear him ask.

In your state, you can either nod or shake your head, and you’re not sure which one is the better option. The curled-up position is the only one you can feel comfortable in, but if you don’t sit up, he can barely touch you. It’s a desperate situation and you’re so overwhelmed, you want to cry — but it’s not a question of wanting anymore, you need to cry because your body is a bundle of hormones and your mind isn’t yours to command.

He tilts your head toward him to kiss you. “It’s okay,” he whispers, “I’ve got you.”

You whimper again, tasting the coffee on his lips.

Slowly, the hand that once rested on your stomach inches lower and lower and lower until… you throw your head back into the crook of his neck and he tightens his grip to make sure you don’t slip away.

The moment he presses his calloused fingers to your clit, your vision explodes. You try to spread your legs while at the same time scratching at his arms and pulling at the dark hairs that adorn them. Your muscles are too sore to throw your leg over his hip, a familiar position from the many lazy mornings spent drowning in each other, and you can’t seem to find another way to get his hand closer either. He’s already cupping your pussy with his entire hand, drawing circles on your clit, and with how swollen it is you jolt with every stroke, but it’s still not enough. You need more space.

“Wait,” you say. “I need… can you…”

The systems in your head completely shut down.

He reads your mind. His hand slips away, pulling you up with him against the headboard. Instead of forcing you to sit up though, he places you over his lap, a pillow under your stomach, and your legs spread over his thighs. The slight bow in your back from the positioning of his knee works better than any position you could have thought of.

“Better?” he asks.

You spread your legs wider. There’s enough space now, you can move freely and still roll over if you need to, and the sheets can easily muffle your moans.

“Sweetheart, talk to me,” he strokes a hand over your exposed ass cheeks, “are you okay?”

You don’t want to imagine the mess you’re making, lying naked over his lap while actively bleeding out of the very folds he’s touching with his skilled fingers now. You’re wet enough for him to slide across them, returning to your clit.

“Just touch me,” you whine. “Please, Matthew, just touch me.”

And for the love of God, you think, don’t think about the sheets.

“Anything you want, baby. This is about you,” he says and finally, God finally, he gets to work.

There has to be something he takes to make his fingers feel so amazing every time he touches you. He never fails to amaze you with his skills. The fingers he uses as fists more often than not to beat criminals senselessly only do good for you. They comfort you and bring you pleasure where and whenever you need it most. He would never hurt you, especially not with his hands.

You cry out when he picks up the pace. “Matt,” his name is only but a breath on your lips, “Your fingers…”

“What about them?”

“I need them,” you say.

His thumb stays on your clit while he circles your entrance with his ring and index finger, pushing in only slightly and you hiss, as he expected, from the soreness of your walls.

“Fuck!”

“Relax,” he tells you.

He moves his fingers deeper, slipping right in, the wetness and heat of you engulfing and hugging him like you were made to take him. He sighs and curls his fingers inside, finding your g-spot with ease. He knows exactly where to press to have you crying out in ecstasy, and you have to bite down on the sheets to keep yourself from screaming.

Pain is the last thing you can think about. All you feel is the burning pleasure in your core, the electricity that spreads through your cunt like an explosion and rests in your lower stomach as the biggest knot you’ve ever felt, and it doesn’t take long for you to feel the pressure that has your legs shaking as it waits to be released.

All the while Matt keeps massaging your back with his other hand, matching the circles he draws on your clit and the thrusts of the two fingers that he has shoved deep inside of you. With every painting he draws, you inch closer to the edge of release. It’s only moments away, you can feel it.

The sounds you’re making are incoherent, muffled through the sheets, but he can tell from the way you’re bucking into his hand that you’re closer than ever.

“You’re doing so well for me, sweetheart,” he’s purring the gentlest of praises into your ear, “You’re such a good girl, letting me take care of you. You deserve it. You deserve to feel good.”

You moan, reach for his shoulder, and cling to his skin for dear life. Your legs start to shake around his hand, locking him in place. You’re thrashing around wildly, not letting him finger you but rather riding him in a way that has you coming faster than you thought possible.

Matt only chuckles. “That’s it, take what you need. You can come whenever you need to,” he says. “And I know you need to, baby, so do it. Let go for me and come.”

“Oh, fuck, Matthew!”

Your walls spasm around his fingers as you come apart. You’re crying, moaning, possibly even screaming and you clench so hard around his fingers, you’re scared you might break them.

His tongue is silver, trained, and too damn good at articulating words that drag out your orgasm to the point it hurts, especially now. “That’s it. Let it out. I’ve got you.”

It wouldn’t stop. You’re wasted, exhausted, and spent, but you can’t stop from pulsating heavily around him.

Only when the pleasure turns into an uncomfortable soreness does the wave of the orgasm start to ease back into the ocean.

Your clit is aching, swollen, and wet from how coated his fingers are, and you can already feel the wetness trickling down your thigh. The blood, you think. It’s not just arousal or your cum, you’re sure of that.

The bed probably looks like a crime scene now. You have to change the sheets. Not even as you’re crying, quivering from the intense orgasm, you can help the shame from swallowing you whole. He can’t see it but he can smell the copper. It has to be more than uncomfortable.

You whimper when you finally come down from your high, still holding onto his arm.

“The sheets,” you manage to choke out. “Matt, I’m so sorry…”

He shushes you. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I can’t not worry about it. I just bled all over your sheets.”

He helps you sit up and into his lap where he holds you close to his chest.

“It’s just blood, baby,” he reminds you with a gentle kiss on your lips. “I don’t care. It’s natural. Besides, have you ever seen me not covered in blood?”

The crinkle in his eyes is playful and you manage to laugh softly.

“Hm?”

“No, I guess not,” you say. “But still…”

“Sweetheart, it’s okay. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. Nothing.”

Your head drops to his shoulder. “I love you.” There are a million other things you want to say, but for now, those have to be enough.

The pain is gone, finally, and you can breathe again without getting an excruciating headache. He hugs you tight to him, stroking your hair and kissing your scalp to make sure you’re okay, that you know you’re safe and that he wouldn’t go anywhere. He’s with you, until the end of the line.

“C’mon.” He manages to tear himself away from you eventually. “Let’s take a shower, yeah?”

You pout, feeling his dick more than hard in his sweatpants underneath you. “What about you?” you ask.

Matt shrugs, pulling you in for another kiss. “I’ll take care of that.”

“We can-“

“No,” he cuts you off with a finger to your very tired lips, “You’re too sensitive for that. Let’s wait another day and then we can think about it, okay? I don’t want you to be in any more pain than you already are.”

Thanks to your hormones, his considerate nature has you crying like a baby in seconds.

He is confused at first, touching your contorted features in worry before he reminds himself that it’s normal. You’re more emotional than usual, but it’s okay because your body is doing unspeakable things that no man could ever understand, and you’re going to feel better soon enough. The world just sucks for now, then maybe again in the next twenty minutes if you happen to come across the picture of a very cute dog or watch one of your comfort movies, but you’re going to be fine.

So instead of making fun of you for something you can’t control, which he never would but he knows that some of the men in your life have and it scarred you for life, he holds you to his chest and tells you, “You’re going to be okay.” And he keeps telling you this until you manage to stop crying and are smiling again, thankful and so in love, you forget how fucking awful you feel for just a second.

It wouldn’t take long for the pain to reappear, but until then you could enjoy the relief in the arms of the man you love.

Having Matt Murdock by your side is much better than painkillers, and much more effective, too.

And as you lie there on his lap, his arms around you and his lips on yours, you can’t help but keep wondering,

How did I get so lucky?

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock smut #afab!reader #matt murdock #daredevil #daredevil x reader #hurt/comfort #matt murdock imagines #matthew manwhore murdock #ficlet #netflix daredevil

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solarwonux · 1 year

Text

Business Proposal || knj (3/?)

pairing: namjoon x f!reader || ex friends to lovers!au friends to lovers!au

Genre: fluff, angst, smut, slow burn, fwb!au, non idol!au, unrequited love

Warnings: slow burn, angst, namjoon is pretty much not the nicest dude lol (will add more as it progresses), kinda sugar daddy au but not really. It will make sense I promise.

Rating: mature, 18+

w.c: 6.5k

Synopsis: Namjoon is living on borrowed time, and it’s time to cash in. His father is months from taking his last breathe and his life long dream is to watch his oldest son say “I do.”

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a/n: Kind off a filler chapter, but also let the drama commence we are literally just getting started haha. Again, I’m going to be pretty busy for the next month so I don’t know when I’ll upload another part. But I hope you like this one and as always lmk your thoughts. Thank you.xx

The knot in your throat is hard to ignore as you put away your belongings in cardboard boxes. The tiny apartment that served as your home is looking more barren with the more things you take down and pack. Jungkook always made fun of you for giving meaning to silly things and getting attached to them. He calls you a hoarder and maybe he is correct about you hoarding shit you don’t ever need, but you call yourself a collector.

Why else would you have twenty different pots and pans in different colors. Plates and bowls in different shapes, sizes and designs. And you don’t even want to think about all the mugs you’ve accumulated over the years. Or the little trinkets that are carefully scattered all over your apartment with purpose. Or the tiny shelves with miscellaneous pictures of different moments in your life. Your clothes are a different story you haven’t even made a dent in the pile sitting on top of your bed, and you’ve already packed two full suitcases.

You’re grateful for Jungkook, and that he’s here just looking at you with judgment instead of voicing his negative opinions about you not being able to let go of shit. Though, he keeps reminding you that most of your things might be put in storage anyway. Namjoon is very particular and according to Jungkook nothing cute or with colors other than indigo, black, white and beige exist in his apartment.

“What about this?” Jungkook holds out a tiny black rabbit figurine in between his thumb and forefinger. You got it at a street market a few years ago because you believed it would bring you good luck. Though, you aren’t sure where that luck has gone because you certainly have none of it right now.

“I’m keeping it.” You hold out your hand and he places it, in the middle of your palm rolling his eyes.

“You’re going to have to get rid of something Bunny.” He says as his hands fall down by his sides in defeat. “My brother’s not going to let you keep any of this.” He signals to the many boxes you have already packed.

You shrug, folding up the last of your winter sweaters and placing them neatly in the box in front of you. “But I can still decorate my room how I want so I don’t care, plus I already got rid of some kitchenware.”

Jungkook sighs, “Yeah after I literally fought with you for an hour. And you still have so much of it, I don’t know how you expect Namjoon to agree to keeping an air fryer, a coffee machine, purple pans, that weird pot that kinda looks like a toy, and a hot pink blender. Don’t even get me started on the weird heart shaped bowls or that one plate that looks like cheese or the twenty five mugs you kept.” He lists with his fingers before running a hand through his hair. “I’m telling you he’s as minimalist as the word suggests.”

“Kookie, they're so cute I can’t get rid of them.” You argue, “plus they mean a lot to me.” You close the box in front of you and tape it shut. Last night you decided that all your winter stuff will be going into the storage unit in Namjoon’s apartment building. If what Jungkook says it’s true and that his brother literally has nothing. Then you can only assume so does his storage unit. Plus he’s already offered it to you.

“They’re ceramic.”

“So, I got them all for a different purpose in different moments of my life therefore they mean a lot to me.” You say sternly and stand up.

“Whatever you say.” He puts his hands up in defeat and turns around to the shelf he had been working on taking down. “Honestly now I’m kinda glad you are going to be living with Joon, seeing him irritated is amusing.”

You roll your eyes moving to the pile on your bed. Putting away your summer clothes is next on your to-do list.

“Why do you have so many clothes anyway?” Jungkook whispers from behind you, making you groan, throwing the pale yellow shirt you have picked up in his direction.

“Why are you being so annoying today?”

Jungkook slyly smiles. It only irritates you more. He may be a full year older than you but sometimes he could be more annoying than your actual younger brother. “You can’t answer a question with a question.” He bites back, picking up a skimpy baby blue lace cheekster. “You’re going to wear this in front of my brother?” He cringes holding it out as if it were the plague.

The embarrassment is evident on your face as you snatch it away and throw it somewhere behind you. “If you’re not going to be of help, get out.” You spit out, avoiding his eyes as he bends over in laughter.

You let out an annoyed sigh, picking up an oversized blue button down and folding it. “

“I’m just fucking with you Bunny. You can wear whatever you want in front of my brother. Just give me a heads up before I walk in on the two of you–you know.” He gestures inappropriately with his hand, earning a glare from you, which only makes him laugh again.

“No I do not know because whatever you’re insinuating will never happen.”

“That’s what you say now.” He accuses, squinting his eyes in suspicion.

You pick up a lavender blouse with white flowers on it and throw it in his direction. “Make yourself useful and start folding.”

Jungkook smiles widely, throwing your blouse over your shoulder. He reaches out and pinches your cheek. You swat his hand away forcefully. He winks at you before saying, “You make it so easy to fuck with you, Bunny.” He starts folding your shirt and adds, “I thought I taught you better, where’s your back bone?”

“Keep talking and I’ll show you how well I remember all those self defense moves you taught me years ago.”

The pizza arrived at exactly ten. The movers had arrived an hour earlier, taking your bed, lounge chair, desk, kitchen table, kitchenware and old decorations. Everything else you had like your clothes and small miscellaneous things were in boxes waiting to be loaded into Jungkook’s car. Your old couch was on the curb waiting to be picked up by the donation trucks.

Now, you and Jungkook were sitting in your living room–old living room–with a Hawaiian pizza and two large beers in between the two of you. Your brother and his wife left as soon as the movers did. So, it was just a lonely last dinner in your apartment with Jungkook.

“You can always just move in with me.” Jungkook speaks up taking a big swing from his beer can. “I have like three spare mattresses and Bam recently learned to not get up on the couch without permission.” He mapped out, picking up another slice of pizza.

You throw the pineapple slice you have picked off into the box. As much as you had fought the shaggy haired man against his decision even bringing up your pineapple allergy. You had lost the very intense game of rock, paper scissors twenty minutes earlier.

“No thank you. I’d rather not be subjected to your 4am drunk karaoke sessions. Or wake up to you moaning in the kitchen because of food you’ve made.” You shrug, biting into your pizza slice. “Plus you bring too many people home with you and I enjoy my sleep.”

“I don’t do that anymore.” He shrugs, throwing the crust of the pizza into the box and grabbing another slice. It’s blasphemous how he loves pineapple on pizza–no hate to pineapple on pizza lovers, if you didn’t have a deadly pineapple allergy you’re sure you would love it–but he hates the best part of a pizza. Which is by far the crust.

“Which part?” You tilt your head to the side.

“Bringing people home. I stopped doing that years ago, Bunny, keep up.” He rolls his eyes, biting into his pizza and groaning as if it’s the most delicious thing ever.

You cringe. “This is what I mean. Why do you make everything sound so sexual?”

He swallows, “Why do you take everything so sexual?” He fights back, raising a knowing eyebrow at you.

“You can’t answer a question with a question.”

“You can’t answer my question by repeating my statement from earlier.”

You shake your head, grabbing his abandoned crust. “I take back everything I just said. This is the real reason as to why I can’t live with you.” You bite into it, smiling in delight.

“Cause’ I’m irresistible.” He winks.

“No, because you’re so annoying. I will never see a moment of peace.”

Jungkook laughs, throwing another perfectly edible crust into the box and grabbing another slice. “But you love me, right Bunny?”

You shake your head, swallowing and taking a swing from your beer. “Sadly, I do.”

Jungkook smiles, throwing you a thumbs up and a cheeky wink. You laugh, shaking your head in disbelief.

After a moment you look around your empty apartment, remembering how everything was perfectly laid out. The tiny frames of pictures of you, your family and your friends that used to decorate your walls. The abstract art piece that was hung on the wall behind your couch. Taehyung had gifted it to you after he disappeared for a few weeks in a crazy burst of inspiration. He said the bright colors reminded him of you, because somehow you always made him feel a little brighter no matter what.

You recall the little figurines that were placed on your useless tv unit because in the seven years that you lived in this apartment you never once bought a tv. They were miscellaneous things that were as useless as the unit but they meant a lot to you. Each one was handpicked by you for a purpose. The rabbit you had bought at a Lunar New Year market years ago. The ceramic watercolor-esque jewelry dish, you had found at a flea market. It was home to your crystals and not your actual jewelry, with the exception of your dad’s class ring that you had borrowed and never gave back.

Everything felt empty, even your fridge. It used to be decorated with magnets from places you had visited over the years. It had to-do lists and many sticky notes with affirmations written in ink splattered handwriting.

The night you first moved into the apartment it was hell. It was your first time living alone and every little sound sent a wave of panic through you. You had to call Taehyung, Jimin and Jungkook to sleep over because you wholeheartedly believed someone would break in. Eventually things got simpler and you made your spaces yours. You never thought you’d grow attached to such a place, but you spent many nights dancing with just your string lights on. Singing at the top of your lungs. And crying because you missed your parents and brother. It was your home and even though your lease was up soon. It felt strange to not renew it again.

It almost felt like you were leaving a piece of yourself behind. A piece you never knew you had discovered until now.

“Bunny, don’t cry.” Jungkook coos beside you. The pizza is long forgotten, the box thrown haphazardly to the side as he brings you into his arms. “I know it’s hard but if we are being honest here you were outgrowing this place.”

You sniff, placing your head on top of his shoulder. “I would’ve made more room.”

Jungkook chuckles, carding his hand down your back, sending shivers up your spine. “You would’ve become a crazy hoarder. There was barely any space with all the shit you had.”

“That’s mean.” You shove him lightly. After a while of silence you speak up again. “This was my home Jungkook. I knew that I was eventually going to move out but I thought it would be because I was getting married.”

“You are getting married.” He deadpans, making you shove him even harder. He laughs.

“This doesn’t count, you know it’s not real.”

Jungkook waves you off, cradling his stomach as he bends over laughing, making you roll your eyes. “I was just trying to lighten up the mood. You know you’re always welcome at my place.” He wraps his arms around your shoulders and brings you close again. “And I know things are rocky between you tweedle dee and tweedle dum. But Jimin and Taehyung will always have your back too.”

You sigh at the mention of Jimin’s name. It’s been two weeks since you last spoke to him and Taehyung. They have been ignoring your calls and texts. You’ve even thought about emailing them, but you’re well aware that neither of them have opened up their emails since college. You just hope that one day–soon–they’ll let you explain everything to them.

“I really hope so, Kookie.

Namjoon has been pacing in his living room since he woke up at four in the morning. He’s only had about four hours of sleep since he spent his entire afternoon and night clearing out his guest bedroom. It used to be his study, but he never once used it to do his work. The creaky old desk he got at a vintage shop a couple years ago was more of a showpiece. He had no issue parting ways with it. That was the easy part then came the bookshelf he once thought of using as a way to display his favorite artist books. But his research kept him occupied and he never once got around to it.

Parting ways with his books was something he never once thought he would have difficulty with. He made three piles; keep, maybe keep, give away. Everytime he put a book in the give away pile he would move it to the maybe pile and eventually the keep pile. It went on like this until midnight when he decided to abandon the task and go to sleep. He didn’t expect his thoughts to wake him up at four in the morning. They were racing like they had some sort of urgency. And now he was wide awake in his living room with the same three piles, one overflowing more than the others.

If he had more space in his book shelves in the living room he would have no problem, but those shelves were also ones he needed to sort out. Not to mention the huge stack of to be read books occupying the space between his couch and favorite chair.

He doesn’t know how he let things get so out of hand. Though, everything seemed like a mess in his brain. Especially at this time at night. He knows if anything changed about where things were placed he would have a mental breakdown trying to look for something.

It's how things worked in his brain. It’s also probably the reason why he was unable to sleep. Now, because of his wild idea to have you move in with him. He knows things will change around his house. Apart from his vast collection of art, books and his plants, everything else in his apartment lacked any soul and emotion. He used to love coming home when he first moved in years ago, but slowly the light started to get sucked out of his place.

Subconsciously he knows that’s why he asked you to move in with him in the first place. It wasn’t his mom visiting unexpectedly or that carpooling to work would save him gas and his carbon footprint. It was because he missed coming home to something that had life.

That’s something he will never get himself to admit. Not outloud and especially not to himself. And now you’re set to arrive in fifteen minutes. He still hasn’t finished sorting out his books or done a very good job at pushing away that agonizing thought or the excitement and nerves. He’s been keeping himself occupied for hours but all he has done is wonder.

What do you look like when you go to sleep?

What do you look like when you wake up?

Do you still sleep with numerous stuffed animals?

Will you secretly place your little trinkets around his home without him noticing?

Do you eat breakfast or just have coffee?

Will you like having him around?

They’ve been moving so fast that he can’t grasp onto one. The second he brushes one off another one comes to the surface and it’s driving him insane. Sure, he doesn’t feel anything for you. Not then and certainly not now, but he is looking forward to getting to know you better. What makes you laugh and what makes you tick? Are you a stay at home person on the weekend? Or do you go out with your friends to catch up? Do you bring work home like he does? Or do you leave it all in the office and relax for the rest of the evening?

Again, these are thoughts he will never let himself admit out loud, but he has them and he just hopes they go away the second you ring his doorbell.

As if on cue, the chime brings him out of his daze. He puts down the current book he was holding–The Secret History by Donna Tartt. It’s the book you gave him for his birthday back then. You had read it about five times before giving it to him saying he would “absolutely love it.” Since then he’s read it numerous times. The paperback is fading a little bit; he's tried to get rid of it for years but for some reason he can never seem to get himself to do so.

He puts it in the keep pile and stands up. Rubbing his sweaty palms on his black cotton shorts, as he makes his way to the front door. He’s already had five cups of coffee but suddenly he feels the fatigue wash over him as soon as he puts his hand on his doorknob.

Namjoon takes a deep breath, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose and opens the door, revealing a very casual looking you. You’re wearing gray sweatpants, a black tank top with a white knitted cover up. Jungkook and his signature black on black outfit stands by your side.

This is the moment he realizes that a new chapter of his book is about to commence.

Whoever told Namjoon that living on the top floor of the highest building in the world–note exaggeration–should be held responsible for the back ache you’re surely going to be dealing with at night.

It’s taken about ten trips for you, Jungkook, Namjoon and the movers to get all of your stuff inside of Namjoon’s home. It also doesn’t help that the owner of the very bland looking home keeps barking orders to not scratch the floors and watch for the art hanging on his walls. Understandable, but he could at least be a bit nicer. After all it’s his fault you’re in this mess in the first place.

“How can someone have so much shit?” Namjoon seethes as he places your last box in his living room. It’s not even an organized mess anymore. It’s downright a mess and he is close to losing it.

Jungkook laughs, taking a well deserved break on his couch, feet on top of his black coffee table. “You should’ve seen all the shit she didn’t keep.” He says, stretching his arms up and overhead. “This isn’t even half of it. You should be thanking me for convincing her to give away all the shit she didn’t need or use and she still kept some of it.”

“Hey,” you give Jungkook a pointed stare. “Everything has its purpose, sooner or later I was going to use them.”

“You didn’t need fifty different mugs. You literally only ever used the same five. And you didn’t need all those little ceramic figurines that absolutely served no purpose.” Jungkook argues, crossing his arms in front of him. He hasn’t slept and he has you to thank because all you did during the night while you stayed at his house was pace back and forth and clean his already clean apartment.

He understands that you were nervous but you could’ve been a little quieter or you could’ve let him sleep. Instead, you woke him up to keep you company while you rambled on and on and on about how this was a horrible idea. But what was he supposed to say? Everything he wanted to tell you, he had already said. In order to avoid sounding like a broken record he just listened to you rant while moving in and out of consciousness.

“Please tell me you didn’t bring fifty mugs to my house.” Namjoon says, scrunching his eyebrows and putting his hands on his hips. You sit on the floor in front of a box labeled kitchen and open it up.

“No, just twenty five of them.”

Namjoon sighs, running a hand through his hair. This was already starting out on a bad note. He only has one mug for his coffee and it’s been very useful since he’s moved in. He forgets that even though he’s a minimalist in some ways. You’re a maximist. Your bedroom back home was proof enough.

Your desk was always filled with crap and numerous journals. Your walls had different kinds of posters and tiny strips of pictures you had taken with your friends on a night out in whatever photobooth you could find. He doesn’t want to even get into the stuffed animals or the twenty different pillows you kept on your bed when you only slept with one.

He supposes some things just never change.

“We don’t need twenty five different mugs, or–” He looks into the box he had set on the kitchen counter and sighs, “--six different pans.” He brings out a white and purple one and another one the same color just slightly bigger. Your colorful aura is already clashing with his monochrome one. He has no idea if they will mix well.

“Believe me, you say that now, but I can guarantee you that one day you’re going to be searching for a specific pan while cooking and you’re going to thank me for keeping these.” The words spill out of your mouth with confidence and he can’t help but roll his eyes. Out of spite he will do everything in his power to make sure that day never comes.

Jungkook stands up and claps his hands in front of him. “Alright idiots, I have a date in like two hours, so we either get your bed built Bunny or you sleep on this lovely couch.” He interrupts in pointing to Namjoon’s not so comfy looking couch.

You stand up, trying to keep your mouth from going agape, this was certainly a huge surprise. Jungkook simply didn’t date. “With who?” You walk to him with your hands on your hips. Namjoon and your mugs have been completely forgotten.

“With my bed.” He winks and you groan. You knew it was too good to be true. “Now, come on, I don't understand why you picked the most complicated bed frame to build. There are more screws than anything I’ve ever gotten from IKEA and as simple as they try to make the instructions it still takes me five hours to build one shelf.” He walks past you and into the hallway leading up to rooms.

“They are easy to understand, you're just an idiot.” Namjoon speaks up, and you bite your lip to keep yourself from laughing. This is how things were back then, clowning on Jungkook together. They were simple before feelings were involved, and you only wonder that if you kept your mouth shut would things still be that way.

Except you know that deep down they wouldn’t because neither of you would be in this situation. You can’t decide if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. Whatever the answer to that is, you don’t want to find out, even more so now.

You ignore Namjoon’s comment and follow in Jungkook’s footsteps. The last thing you want is for him to break your beloved bedframe and you end up on Namjoon’s couch until you can afford to buy a new one. It’s this moment in particular that you miss Taehyung and Jimin the most. (Though, since falling out everything made you miss them.) It took them a full hour to assemble it together with minimal complaints. You know it would’ve taken them nothing to take it apart, but now you will never know.

Jungkook stayed true to his word and left one hour later than when he said he would. It took him and Namjoon fighting a couple of times for your bed frame to finally be complete. And during his final hour before he left on his date. He helped you move the rest of your furniture into the room, including your precious desk, armchair and the numerous boxes of clothes books and decorations you had packed.

During this time, Namjoon had barely spoken to you, except for the occasional “pass me the (insert name of tool,)” he directed towards you. Then he disappeared into the kitchen while you instructed Jungkook on where to place your belongings. Now, the filter was gone and you were left alone in a hollowed out house with its equally hollowed out owner.

You were keeping yourself occupied with hanging up your clothes when you heard a crash followed by a curse of pain coming from the kitchen. On instinct you ran out to find Namjoon holding his foot, mumbling profanities.

You swallow, placing your hands inside the pocket of your sweatpants. “Are you okay?”

Namjoon looks up, eyes full of water as he quickly releases his foot and clears his throat. “Umm, yeah, I just dropped one of your pots on my foot.” He brushes off, proceeding to pick up the pot Jungkook claims looks like a toy and places it on the counter. “I hope you don’t mind that I started to unpack the kitchen stuff. All the boxes were kind of driving me a little crazy.” He scratches the back of his neck, then points to the empty stack of boxes by the couch.

You shake your head. “Just show me where everything is so I don’t go crazy looking for shit tomorrow morning.” You say, walking towards the kitchen and stopping once you get to the other side of the counter.

He nods, and proceeds to move around. “Mugs and cups go here.” He opens the cabinet above the stove, showing you how neatly he arranged your colorful array of mugs by color and size. “The plates are here.” He moves over one cabinet and opens it, revealing three wooden racks full of your plates and his plates. “And I put the bowls up there. I know it's hard to reach but we can get a step stool or something.” He shrugs and then moves around the counter standing beside you. “You didn’t have a lot of utensils but the ones I found I put in here.” He opens up a drawer, and as expected everything was organized as neatly as possible in one of those kitchen drawer organizers. Forks, spoons, knives and chopsticks had their own compartment. You took note as you didn’t want to mess anything up.

If you were going to be living with him until further notice. Stepping on his toes and messing with his organization was something you didn’t intend on doing.

“I was just getting started on putting the pots and pans away, also I don’t know where to put your knife set since I already have one.” He says pointing to the box containing your pastel colored set of knives. Maybe you should’ve listened to Jungkook when he said you actually didn’t need them. They were just too cute to let go.

“That’s fine.” You wave your hand, discreetly taking two steps away from him. “Do you want any help?”

Namjoon pauses for a moment after he closes the drawer. He looks at the marble countertop in front of him in thought and then you. His gaze is hardened and unreadable. A look you’ve come to familiarize yourself with in the past few days that you’ve had to spend with him. It’s one he uses when the two of you are alone. You won’t lie, it annoys you a little.

“No, that’s okay. I was just going to put them in the cabinet next to the sink.” He speaks up before rounding the corner and standing in his original spot. You nod and take a step back.

“I guess I’ll be in my room unpacking. Don’t continue dropping things on your foot.” Your attempt at a joke goes ignored as he gives you a deadpan look before focusing his attention on the pot in front of him.

It’s strange how he hasn’t continued to complain about you having so much stuff. Or how he hasn’t declined anything you brought with you. He’s simply accepted it and is finding space for it. The complete opposite of what you imagined he would do. Once again he’s rendered you speechless and you have no idea if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

“I’ll try not to.”

It’s around two in the morning when you finally leave your new room. Namjoon’s living room–well you suppose it is now your living room too–is vacant. You let out a sigh of relief. The only reason why you left your room in the first place was because your stomach was growling and you couldn’t sleep.

You aren’t sure if Namjoon is asleep or if he’s in his room avoiding you all together. Could he really be just as childish as you? You want to believe the answer to that question is a big fat yes. But then again that’s only because you want to make yourself feel like you're not the only coward now living in this house.

Still, he didn’t come seeking you after he briefly showed you around the kitchen. So, maybe you aren’t the only one who just doesn’t know what to say to the other person. How do you simply start a conversation without bringing up your past together?

There are so many things left unsaid. So many things that happened that night that have haunted you for years. So many things that broke down your character as everything unfolded right before your eyes. A part of you blames him for what ended up happening. Though, that’s only because it was easier to blame him than to blame yourself.

Even if your therapist and Jimin and Jungkook told you that nothing was your fault. It still felt like it was, especially because you only wanted to piss off Namjoon more than you already had. Maybe then he would finally have a reason to hate you, but again, he’s never really known what happened apart from your fight.

Nor, do you think you can tell him. In fear that he would look at you differently and put the blame on you. Just like you have done for years.

“You couldn’t sleep either?” Namjoon’s voice sounds from behind you, making you jump. You turn around meeting his piercing eyes as he makes his way into his kitchen.

“Nope, it’s a new space so everything feels weird.” You shrug, taking a seat on one of the island stools. “And I’m hungry.” You add, thinking it will somehow help your already valid reason.

Namjoon nods before opening his fridge. “I ordered chicken earlier, but I wasn’t sure if you wanted some or wanted me to bother you, but I saved you some.” He takes out the box and places it on the counter, moving around expertly before taking out one of your pans. See you knew they would come in handy. “I’ll heat it up for you.” He places it on the stove and turns the dial to a medium heat.

Your eyes grow wide as you start to get up. “You don’t have to, I can do it myself.”

Namjoon doesn’t have to face you, for you to know he’s rolled his eyes at your comment. “I don’t, but it gives me something to do. I’m not tired.” He shrugs, hovering his hand over the middle of the pan, to check if it was hot. Once he deems it hot enough he reaches over and grabs the leftover box of the chicken, dumping the sweet and sour delights into the pan.

You choose not to reply to him and instead look around. There were only a few boxes left for you to unpack, most of them being miscellaneous decoration pieces you had collected over the years. You know that as much as Namjoon didn’t mind having your kitchen ware mingle with his. You knew he wasn’t going to let you mess around with his minimalist aesthetic. Maybe you would just have to slowly find space for them. But maybe it was best that you didn’t. A couple of days ago he made it pretty clear that you weren’t something permanent in his life. So, why pretend like you were?

“Mom wanted us to go to brunch tomorrow, but I told her no. I figured you wanted to finish settling down before work on Monday.” Namjoon speaks up over the sizzling sound of the chicken.

Your head snaps to face him. “You didn’t have to do that, I could’ve finished unpacking over the week.”

Namjoon looks over at you and shakes his head. Before you can snap at him for whatever reason he speaks up. “You told me to keep in mind that you are your own person and that I can’t keep making decisions for you, and when I consider how you may feel about living things unfinished you tell me that I could’ve done the opposite of what you asked.” He reaches over and turns off the knob and turns to face you. “I don’t understand you.”

The audacity he has to spring up a decision he made like it was for your betterment is impalpable. Somehow him being somewhat considerate and listening to you, but at the same time not listening to you makes you want to scream. Instead, you close your eyes, feeling your appetite run away from you. “Yet, you just did exactly that.”

Namjoon tilts his head in confusion, taking the pan off the stove and bringing it over to where you’re sitting. “How? I did exactly what you wanted me to do. I told her no because I knew you would be tired after a whole day of moving.” He places down a heat mat and puts the pan over it.

You shake your head in disbelief. “No, you decided for me. You didn’t tell me your mother invited us over for brunch and instead told her we couldn’t go because I was going to be too tired when you don’t even know that.” You eye him as he takes out a pair of chopsticks. He stops once the words you’ve said sink in and glares at you.

“I don’t know what you want me to do? I agreed to meet you in the middle, I even agreed to your ridiculous list of demands and when I do, you say that that’s not what you wanted.�� He places the chopsticks in front of you and scoffs.

You cross your arms in front of you. “But you didn’t meet me in the middle. Meeting me in the middle would be telling me that your mom invited us over and then hearing what I had to say about it. But instead you decided for me, you’re still not understanding.”

Namjoon groans, running a frustrated hand through his already messy bedhead. “Then please spell it out for me because I’m trying but you always have to fucking complicate things.”

“I’m not the one complicating things here. It’s simple, you only have to tell me things and then I’ll decide what I want or don’t want.”

Namjoon signs leaning his forearms on his marble counter, his arm veins popping out as he grips edge trying to regulate his anger. “This is exactly why?”

“Why what?” You push yourself off the chair, leaving your untouched chicken as you push in the stool.

“Why I would never marry you. You look too much into things and when someone calls you out on it you blame them. You’re just too difficult to deal with.” He says through clenched teeth.

You dig your nails into the palms of your hand. He has the nerve to throw one of your biggest insecurities back at you. It’s the reason why all of your past serious relationships have ended. Apart from the fact that they’ve always gotten bored and found someone new. It’s also the reason why your childhood best friends aren’t talking to you. You’re too much to deal with. So, why are you here in the first place?

“Then why did you come up with this whole elaborate plan?” Your voice is just above a whisper as you angrily keep yourself as composed as possible.

Namjoon pushes himself off the counter and stalks over to you. “I already told you because it’s not permanent. Trust me if my father had more time you wouldn’t be standing here.” He spits out and stops in front of you. “You’re not someone worthy of spending a life with.”

Your breath gets caught in the back of your throat as you blink back tears. This shouldn’t be affecting you as much as it is. Especially because it’s something he’s hinted at since he first proposed the plan to you. But for some reason it does, especially his last comment. He knows that one of your biggest dreams is to get married and start a family. He also knows that all your previous partners have left you for the same reason. And he also knows that it will hurt you if he keeps repeating it. Almost as if he believes that you don’t understand how serious he is about keeping you as a temporary placement in his life.

Back then you would’ve yelled and cried. Yet, that girl was broken down and replaced as quickly as it took him to leave you and all the memories you shared together behind. So, you stand your ground, burning holes into his dragon like eyes and say, “Trust me when I say that you’re the person I hate the most in this world. That I might be difficult but you’re impossible. Your head is so big that you can’t see that the reason why you can’t seem to keep anyone around is because you push them away thinking you’re better than everyone else. It’s the reason why you might keep the money from your dad’s will but also the reason why you will end up alone.”

When you finish you can tell he’s taken your words to heart, that much you know from the fire burning behind his perfect brown eyes. Instead of responding he does the one thing you never expected him to do.

He kisses you.

a/n: lol I’m sorry.

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