#from fighting at the drop of a hat to true friends

[loveindefinitely]

༊*·˚ FOREVER WINTER (IF YOU GO) — task force 141 x reader

04 — I'M HERE REGARDLESS OF THE PAIN

featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + johnny 'soap' mactavish + kyle 'gaz' garrick + john 'bravo six' price + (non-endgame phillip graves)

warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, fmmmm, enemies to lovers, slow burn, polyamory, ghostsoap, pricegaz, alerudy, heavy angst, requited unrequited love, graphic violence

series masterlist. read on ao3. fanfic playlist.

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As it turns out, ‘real men’ fight bloody.

It’s a difficult journey, your escape, and you end up killing more men than you had ever planned to. With comms blaring in your ears, the weight of an assault rifle in your hands, and the windy night brushing against your clammy skin, you find yourself lost in the thrill of battle.

Everything comes to a head, however, when an unfamiliar voice enters your comms, and both Soap and Ghost seem to deflate with relief.

It’s with the roaring of a helicopter overhead, bullets flying by your running body, that a deep, gravelly British voice trickles into your ear – like the eye of a hurricane.

“All stations, this is Bravo Six – Get down!”

You’re not sure who ‘Bravo Six’ is, or why he’s helping you, but the telltale spark that sparks at the base of your spine has your entire being – your soul – ready to put your life in this man’s hands. It’s an all-consuming, threatening need, but one you find yourself clinging to regardless.

Whatever mental dilemma that is starting to form immediately gets put away with the rest of your ongoing ones. Your focus is now entirely set on the figure on top of the wall, firing a rocket at the enemy’s helicopter. As the pilot loses control of the aircraft, you can feel the thrum in your chest as it crashes and burns into the prison’s ground. 

“It’s Price!” Ghost cries out, the most… not joyful, but pleased, maybe, that you’ve ever heard the man.

“Hell fuckin’ yeah!” Soap adds, and when you flit your gaze to your left, you see the beaming grin on his blood-speckled face. In the giant, bright lights surrounding the grounds, you can see all of his intricacies, even when running and shooting down Shadows.

Price, you now recognise the voice as belonging to, commands you all through the radio once more. “All Bravo and Vaqueros,” he barks, “Top o’ the wall. Get here and I’ll get you out. How copy?”

He’s a Captain, through and through. From his delivery, requiring no disobedience, to the undertone of compassion for his men. He’s the kind of man you’d be blessed to work alongside with – a true, hard earned leader.

“Loud and clear, Price. Comin’ to ya!” Ghost copies, and it feels as though the air around the lot of you has grown thick with tangible, genuine hope.

Rodolfo, closest to your right, looks to you with raised brows, before calling out to Soap and Ghost to your left, “Who’s he?”

Soap’s returning smirk is hardened, a hint of bloodthirst in it. The wrapping around his arm has, miraculously, remained on, with only a small patch of blood bled through. It’s a relief, and a compliment to your handiwork. “A friend,” he chuckles, and you believe it.

“I like him already,” Alejandro barks a laugh, before tilting his head to call out to his men, “¡Vaqueros, vayan al muro, entre las torres, ya!”

You can’t help the small smile that creeps onto your face, amidst the sheer panic inside of you. It’s easy to fall into the heat of the moment, the camaraderie and community.

As the five of you stop mere feet away from the wall, you see ropes get dropped down by the figure on top, allowing for all of you to ascend. Price tells you all as much, before you're clicking your ascender into place, and being shot up the rope.

You’re just behind Soap and Ghost, watching as two men – you’re assuming the one with the boonie hat is Price – grab their hands and pull them up.

They all greet each other, and it hits you what they are. Who they are. 

This is the 141 of every soldier’s nightmares. This is the 141 who Soap’s confirmed is closer than anyone will ever know. This is the 141 that takes down enemies by each other’s sides, forever on each other’s six.

It’s odd, being an outlier, someone watching on from outside of their circle. Like a spectator in a real life motion picture, or a cameraman capturing the essence of a love so deep, no one could tell where it started and ended.

They barely pass a few words amongst each other, before each of them move to help the rest of you up.

It’s the other stranger – a man with tight, dark curls, and electrifying brown eyes, that stretches his hand out for you to take. With one breath to decide, you let your hand fall into place against his, your skin heating from the very first touch.

Time seems to stop, just for a moment, as the two of you make eye contact for the first time.

His eyes. They’re such a deep, earnest brown, and the dimples etched into his cheeks look as if they were made to be admired. He, like Soap, has a light dusting of freckles across the highlights of his face, and if one were to tell you he was carved from stone, you’d believe it.

In reality, this assessment lasts less than a few seconds, before he’s pulling you forward.

But he’s too strong, too fast with it, and you quickly find yourself crashing into his chest, your nose hitting against his collarbone, sending a sharp pain through it.

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry, love,” he rambles out, quickly placing his large hands on your shoulders and keeping you at arms distance, eyes flickering up and down your frame. And, oh, his voice. It’s like honey against velvet, warm and soft and accented. 

“It’s alright,” you manage to say, around the stiffness of your jaw.

He, too, seems at a loss for words, his brows pushing together in confusion. Before either of you can continue your conversation in your small bubble, Soap bursts it with easy charisma.

“Ale, Rudy,” he jerks his head towards the two newest additions to the small group, before looking to you, “Sweetheart.”  You can feel your cheeks heat, your knuckles whitening against the strain of fisting your hands. “Meet Captain Price and Sergeant Garrick.”

It’s a true insult to be referred to as such a vitriol-lidden endearment, especially when being introduced to the 141’s Captain. And the man who you can’t quite get a feel of – the one still watching you, now.

“Thanks for the assist. My men need cover fire,” Alejandro yells over the sounds of gunfights and firearms, reloading his rifle as he does so.

There’s a collective, exciting thrum to the air, your body coming alive within it. A rooted, organic part of you instinctively forces your attention to Price, who immediately commands his team; “The lot of you! Overwatch – now!”

It’s a good call, and quickly adjusting a scope onto the head of your rifle, you move to kneel and aim over the small stone wall. 

Peeking over it, you manage to shoot a few in an arm or a leg – not fatal wounds. If you were at all thinking, you’d realise it was a self-preservation technique; when your body would finally crash from the adrenaline, the pure agony of killing your men would, maybe, lighten. Just a bit.

You jolt when Price barks a warning, “Vehicles incoming, right side!”

Quickly adjusting your stance, you manage to catch a glimpse of the said vehicle, its body covered in the shadows.

“That vehicle’s rigged –” Ghost calls to your left side, but by his dampened tone, you can tell the words aren’t directed to you, “Soap, detonate it!”

Through the scope of your rifle, between one moment and the next, orange and yellow fill your line of sight; nothing visible but the heart of an explosion. You can’t help your deep, surprised exhale, but the sound of Soap’s manic laughter soothes the tension in your shoulders.

“¡Escalen, Vaqueros! ¡Es su oportunidad!” Alejandro shouts through his comms, at the same time that Ghost calls out their status, “Vehicle destroyed!”

Ghost’s voice is such a deep timbre – all dominance and command, guttural and raw and gravelly. You feel almost guilty, how easily you find yourself clinging to their instructions, even if you outrank them all. Like scotch tape over your cracking porcelain brain, a quick fix; a necessary one, if you don’t want to break on this very cement.

“Shadows in the right side tower, watch your backs!” Price calls, and you instantly pivot to direct your gun to the stone tower to your right, hands assuming the most stable position on your rifle without a single tremble.

Your eyes go wide as you watch Soap storm in, efficiently taking down all of the Shadows within with easy shots and a final slice of his knife.

Minutes pass, then, yelling of orders, Soap landing shots of his grenade launcher, Shadows going down without a single KIA caused by your trigger.

It’s when Alejandro calls out to his soldiers, pushing his tactical glasses up and securing his rifle on his back, “Vamos, avancen rapido- mientras está despejado!!” That you let yourself breathe. In, out, the feel of your chest rising and falling with the sound of destruction all around you.

The rest of the previously captive soldiers rush up the ropes, you extending your hand and pulling up a few, just like the rest of the men on top of the wall.

“We’re good to go, coronel,” Rodolfo turns to report to Alejandro, his expression firm, a thin clinging of sweat shining with the fire of explosions below. A few small cuts decorate his face, one just nicking a mole on his upper cheek.

Alejandro nods, allowing himself a smirk to stretch over his face, before looking to you all with a narrowed gaze. “Let’s get out of here, hermanos y hermana.” You will never admit the small, blooming part of you that craves that kind of inclusion – how he adjusts to your presence in such small ways.

“Down the wall,” Price jerks his chin, wiping a hand over the scruff of his beard as he prepares to exfil, looking behind you all. “We are leaving!”

Your heart stutters in your chest – a sudden, all-consuming thought erupting in your brain like wildfire. If you surrendered – turned, and begged for the Shadows to take you to Graves – would they? Was there any hope of return, of normalcy, a way for you to go back to the life you always knew?

A sudden hand around the nape of your neck has you startling out of your wandering thoughts, your eyes fluttering where they meet near-black ones. 

Ghost.

“You know how to get down, dontcha?” He tilts his head, the words coming out deadly soft in the gunfire surrounding you both.

With shaky, unsure movements, you nod.

He squeezes his hold on your scruff tighter, studying you like one would study a germ under a microscope. He leans in – his mask brushing the side of your ear as he seethes, “Then get down, Sweetheart.”

If he knew of your inner struggle, or if it was merely a coincidence, you aren’t sure.

All you know is that he’d just saved you. Intentionally or not – he had rescued you from both the Shadows, and yourself. With a firm nod of your own, you shoulder him off of you, and rappel down the wall.

As soon as your feet hit the muddy ground, you focus in on the exfil vehicles up ahead, the lights no longer shining on you all. Hints of sunrise peak over the horizon, the small bits of hazy orange decorating the men near the vehicle.

Two more footfalls echo behind you, and when you look over your shoulder, it’s to find both Soap and Price.

“These are ours,” Price affirms, pointing to the two vehicles in front of you. When his eyes meet yours, his jaw sets minutely, and you're quick to look away and to the rest of the group.

“Check,” Alejandro nods.

Soap, jogging up to the vehicle, gestures to Rodolfo, “Take the truck we came with,” the man quickly agreeing and rushing back to join his Colonel and men.

“¡Vaqueros, siganme...! ¡Rudy, movamos el rancho!” Yells Alejandro, jerking his head towards the other man, Rodolfo quickly responding, “Sale, Coronel, suerte.”

Adrenaline continues to rush through your veins like a second blood, your muscles loose and ready to react to the smallest snap of a twig. Turning your brain off is second nature, at this point, the rush of unneeded thoughts shut off like a faucet.

Directing Price to follow their lead, you find yourself lost on where to go – Rodolfo was the closest thing you had to a supporter, but at the end of the day, the deal had been made with the 141. Not the Los Vaqueros.

“Gaz, drive!” Price directs, before his steely blue eyes find you, frosting over, allowing you no way of reading his emotion. “You’re with us.”

…There’s your answer, you suppose.

The five of you manage your way into the vehicle, Gaz roughly hopping into the driver’s seat and the other three rushing into the back. Soap’s hand finds its way around your wrist as you go to hop in, pulling you forward roughly. 

Elbowing him with a somewhat immature huff, you try and get comfortable, but being squished in with three other six-foot-something bulky men makes the act difficult.

It’s the least of your problems, really, because as soon as you stop your fussing around, all eyes are on you.

“You lot have three seconds to tell me what the hell is goin’ on,” Price grits out from under his breath. Somehow, it comes out a hundred times more terrifying than if he had yelled it.

Two nervous seconds pass, and just when you think that this is finally going to be the end of your road, Soap babbles out, “The lass is with us now. Sir.”

Knees spread, Price runs a tired, weathered hand down his face, letting out a long-suffering breath.

“...Where’s she from? A stray?” He asks, looking to the two – so dismissive, you just can’t help yourself. You’d earned your title, you were worthy of respect, even if it was from the Captain of the 141.

“She’s right here,” you retort, voice hard and unbudging – even when six eyes lock onto you once more. “And she is a Colonel. One who just killed her men because she wasn’t going to turn a blind eye to war crimes. Who just saved the lives of your men, for no reason but her humanity. Is that what you wanted to hear, Captain?”

Visceral, tangible silence fills the metal walls of the vehicle once more.

That is, until a low, impressed whistle from the front breaks it. Gaz. You look into the rearview mirror, meeting his smile-crinkled eyes. “Definitely what I wanted to hear,” he says, a grin on his elegant features, the minute lighting of the horizon cascading his skin is silky pastels.

“...Sweetheart ‘nd Johnny got in a scuffle while we were on the run,” Ghost supplies, eyes darting to yours for a second before focusing in on Price. “She gave him mercy. We agreed to enter a… mutually beneficial agreement.”

“Mutually beneficial?” Soap guffaws, then groans when you elbow him against his injured arm, his head hanging between his shoulders.

Staring down Price, you straighten your spine. “I help you all survive Graves and get the job done. You give me the resources necessary to knock some sense into him.”

Price raises an unimpressed brow, looking at the three of you in a strange sense of exasperated disappointment. “By ‘knock some sense into ‘im’,” he uses air quotes, “We help you kill ‘im?”

That is the biggest question of all.

Could you – would you – kill him? The man who was your everything; boss, provider, family, lover. If it meant protecting the greater good, if it meant sacrificing yourself, would you allow yourself to deliver the final bullet to his brain?

“No,” you manage, voice cracking softly when you look down to where your hands fist against the fabric atop your thighs. “This isn’t him. I don’t know what’s going on, but…” You swallow, finally looking at Price in the eye once more. “I just want things to go back to normal. He’ll come around.”

It’s like you’ve rolled over and bared your throat to the four men, allowing vulnerability in such a trapped space.

“And if there is no saving him?” Price asks, leaning his forearms against his thighs, entwining his hands together as he studies you. “We’re taking ‘im down, but…” Rolling his tongue against the back of his teeth, he considers for a moment, before nodding to himself. “We’ll allow ya to speak to ‘im. If anything goes haywire…”

“You’ll kill him,” you fill in the blanks, the words sounding hollow even to your own ears. They taste wrong on your tongue, the syllables like sour milk.

“He tried to kill us both,” Soap spits out, his right leg bouncing as he looks around the van. “Yer lucky we’re giving ye this much.”

“I could’ve killed you,” you state, the words anything but a lie. They seem to shut him up, at least.

“Save the squabbling for later,” Price cuts in, a direct order to you both. You could, if you wanted to, point out that you were both of equal rank, really, but you decide against it. If you had it your way, you’d have the Captain of Task Force 141 liking your company. “What the hell happened to you, MacTavish?”

MacTavish is certainly a new one – if you had to take a guess, it’d be Soap’s last name.

With a roll of his eyes, Soap jerks his chin to his bandaged upper arm. “Got shot. Through and through. Sweetheart bandaged me up.”

“Where’d that one come from?” Gaz asks from the front, watching through the rearview mirror. “Sweetheart. Got a crush, Johnny boy?”

“Oh feck off,” Soap grumbles, casting a soft glare to the man up front. “Hen gave me those sweetheart lollies when aye was bleedin’ out. Had nothin’ else.”

Gaz hums as if to say that he does not believe that story for a second, and you see all four of them seemingly… relax. Easing, like how one would as they stepped through their front door after a long day at work. Familial and comforting and…

Not for you.

You don’t belong, that voice once again echoes through your ears, and this time, it’s harder to shut it out. It doesn’t matter that you don’t belong, not when you’d be finding your own feet after this bullshit gets sorted out. Really, there wouldn’t even be a reason to see the four men, or the Las Vaqueros, again.

For some reason, your stomach feels uneasy with that thought process.

“We found out somethin’ much more important,” Ghost admits, and the mood immediately settles into something much more cold, much more serious. “Shepherd burned us.”

That name.

It’s like a shot to your system, an invasion of your very being.

Shepherd.

“...General Shepherd?” You mutter out, without a single thought behind the words, your mouth directly connected to your mind.

“Ye know ‘im?” Soap blurts out, brows furrowed and torso turning towards you, hand flexing around the rifle in his lap. Your mouth is dry, your palms are clammy, and your head is pounding.

“He trained me,” you manage, breath tightening and words shaky. 

“He was my first Captain.”

taglist. @lilpothoscuttings @jng-yuan @iruzias @insatiablekittie @1wh4re1nova @kaoyamamegami @supernaturalstilinski @inthemiddle0feverywhere @msecho19 @nogood-boyo @alfa-jor @lalashhyl @letmeapologise @honeybeeznutz @1mawh0re

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[bettysupremacy]

hiii!! first of all I ADORE your theme💋

aaand I was thinking ab james potter w a southern reader! like any scene,just reader being southern asfff accent n all w james.preferably flirty friends🌝

have a good day/night babes!! dw ab writing this if u don’t wannaa💕!!

Flirty friends with jamie🙏🏻 cw: a lil suggestive

“Look who we have here.”

James whoops and whistles as you walk out of your small home. The grass crunches underneath you, louder than in the daylight. You look behind you cautiously. It’s nice being out of the four walls that make up your room.

“Shhh.” You giggle, letting him scoop you into a hug.

“Daddy let you off the farm?” James teases.

“No,” You muffle into him giggly. “and you know I don’t live on a farm.”

“C’mon, farm girl!” Sirius whoops from the car. “Hurry!”

James laughs loudly, pulling back. “He’s kidding.”

“Shhh.” You stress, eyes darting between the two boys. He’s got on a cowboy hat he found at a gift shop. He looks silly.

“Yeah, mate! Shut the f-“

“James,” Your hands fly to his mouth as he holds you. “Are you insane? You know my momma would have an aneurism if she saw me out here.”

Your accent tickles him. He laughs, the boyish music notes slipping through your tight fingers. “C’mon.” He muffles, pulling your hand from his mouth.

Your fingers twine with his, letting him coral you to the car. “I am not a farmer girl.”

“We know.”

Lily smiles as bright as her hair. “Cutest farmer girl I ever would’ve seen though.”

You hold your hand out to her graciously, smiling as James helps you into the car, and subsequently, onto his lap. Remus driving, Sirius shotgun, Mary, Marlene, and Lily in the back. Lily sits on Mary’s lap, and you sit on James’. It’s cosy, but tight.

“I agree.” James murmurs into your ear lowly, grinning when you shiver.

You’re more than friends, but any title higher doesn’t fit. Situationship, Marls had called it. She tugs at your dress now.

“Cute.”

It’s a simple white thing, james heavy carhartt jacket draped over it warmly. He’d lent it to you a week ago at the state fair, though you’d never gotten around to returning it. It was warm, what could you say?

“Yeah,” James adds. “Cute jacket.”

You feel warmth flood into your cheeks even if they can’t see it. “Thank yo-“

“Are those boots? Those are so cute!” Mary gleams at you.

“My daddy got them for me last spring.” You shine. “You really like ‘em?”

She nods, inky curls bouncing around her ears. “The leatherwork is beautiful.”

James suffers with the lack of attention. “Aren’t my boots cute?”

You turn to face him. More attention from you than he was expecting. His cheeks tinge. “You’re not wearing any, baby.”

“I’m not?” It’s a lame attempt at flirting, he’ll admit, but he’s warm and flustered.

“No, but your hat is very handsome.” You knock it.

“Thank you,” he recovers. “You know what they say?”

“Hmm?” Your fingers tangle in his button down.

“Save a horse,” he grins, shushing the groaning car mates. “ride a cowboy.”

“James.” You laugh quietly, dropping to stick your face in his chest embarrassed. You’re sticky with embarrassment, though their disgust isn’t pointed to you.

“What!” He laughs to Sirius, eyeing him in the rearview.

“Awful.”

“But true.” Marls shrugs.

“But hey,” Remus starts after a particularly hard speed bump. “She already is.”

James laughs louder than before, your embarrassment rising with it. Though, everyone catches the smile fighting to play on your lips.

“Let’s play the quiet game.” You murmur.

Everyone laughs.

#james potter x you #james potter blurb #james potter fluff #james potter x reader #james potter imagine #james x reader #james potter fic #james potter fanfic #james potter fanfiction #james x you #james potter #james potter comfort #james potter x y/n #james potter x y/n fluff #james potter x fem!reader #marauders x y/n #marauders x you #marauders x reader #marauders fluff #marauders fanfic #marauders fanfiction #marauders fic #james potter drabble

[pholla-jm]

Innocent Love

IMAGINE: INNOCENT LOVE ~ LUFFY X READER GENRE: FLUFF WARNINGS: NONE ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Luffy loved his nakama, his friends and food. He especially loved you. He thought he loved you the same way he loved his nakama. But this was a different type of love. The best way to describe it was puppy love. It was like this when he first laid eyes on you. You were so pretty to him, and then when he saw you fight- it was love at first sight.

You really had no choice but to join his crew. He was very adamant about you joining the straw hat pirates. To be honest, he only had to ask you twice.

He had the urge to follow you around. His eyes would always drift over to you, wondering what you were doing. He also made it his mis mission to always make you smile. He loved the smile that graced your face and the way your eyes sparkled whenever you laughed. It was honestly never a dull moment with him.

Luffy didn’t really understand these types of feelings though. It wasn’t until dinner time and some teasing for his true feelings to be shed to light.

“Mmm!” Luffy moans while eating Sanji’s food, “(y/n)! Have you tried this? It’s so good.” He says handing you some of his food. Everyone’s eyes widen when they saw him hold his food out to you. They couldn’t believe their eyes. Maybe he was just showing you his food?

“No, I haven’t yet. But I have some on my plate. So I’ll try it soon.” You tell him. “Shiishishi. Here! Have some.” He says not giving you any time to reject his food offer. He had shoved the food in your mouth causing everyone’s jaw to drop. So he was giving you his food. They had never seen this before.

“Mm! You’re right. It tastes really good. Here, have some of mine.” You say giving a spoonful to Luffy as well. You were about to drop it on his plate, but his mouth found your spoon first. You didn’t really mind though; it was a normal thing between you two.

“Thanks (y/n)!”

No one could really believe their eyes right now.

The silence in the dining room was broken by Usopp’s snickers. “Ooh, it looks like our Captain is in love.” He sing songs causing some of the members to chuckle as well.

A blush was starting to creep on your face from Usopp’s words. You could also hear Sanji start to wail at his words. You didn’t really pay any attention to it though.

“Hm?” Luffy tilts his head to the side, “of course I love (y/n). They’re my nakama!” You groan, putting your head in your hands. You were starting to feel a little embarrassed by the situation.

Nami starts laughing, “no Luffy. You love (y/n) as more than a nakama.” Luffy only grew more confused, “what do you mean? What could be more than a nakama?” “Oh, you are so hopeless Luffy.”

You really hated that they were talking about this while you were still in the same room. It was embarrassing for you. You could feel your face turn completely red.

“Hey (y/n)! Why is your face so red?” You hear Luffy ask causing your eyes to widen. “Nothing!” You shout, abruptly standing up from the table. “But you’re not done eating.” He says. “I’m full! Here.” You pass his plate to Luffy. Which he wastes no time scarfing his food down.

You really needed to get out there. You knew if you stayed a second longer, you would spontaneously combust from embarrassment. Once you were out on the deck, you could feel the cool sea breeze blow against your warm cheeks. You sigh in content, happy that the hot feeling was going away.

However, that was short lived it. Five minutes passed by until you heard the shout of your name and someone crashed into you. You fell to the ground with a thump with Luffy on top of you. Luffy laughter riveted around you as he got off of you. You couldn’t even be mad at him.

You didn’t even have to look back to know it was Luffy and that warm feeling was rushing back to your face.n

“Nami explained everything to me.” Luffy says causing you to groan as you stood up. You really didn’t want to talk about this now. “Luffy- “

You suddenly felt his arms wrap around you, and you were pulled into his chest.

“Will you stay with me?”

You blinked a couple times, trying to make sense of his question.

“What? Well of course. I am part of the crew after all.” “I want you to stay by my side forever.”

As the words started to compute in your head, you realized that this was as close as you were going to get to a confession. You smiled at him and finally wrap your arms back around him. “I’ll always stay with you.”

You were definitely going to have to talk to Nami about what she said to Luffy after you left.

#one piece #oneshot #monkey d. luffy #one piece luffy #straw hat luffy #luffy x reader #luffy x y/n #straw hat pirates

[heartpiratedrabbles]

His True Self

Prompt: Sabo slowly shows you his true colors the longer you're with him.

~~ Part 2 Part 3

Sabo X Reader

Joining the revolutionary army was a big step for you. You watched as your friends and neighbors were kidnapped by the celestial dragons, or how the Marines, the people meant to protect you, had slowly started pointing their guns your way. It disgusted you. People made to do the World governments bidding, no one having any will. It made you sick. So when a small group of people came to your coastal town and started fighting, you joined them.

         The bombs went off and fire was everywhere, but you felt more alive fighting for your freedom and happiness. The thrill as you finally let your anger boil over, taking it out on any corrupt official while ushering others to safety. Running through your now ruined village, everything felt so slow yet your heart was beating so fast. You heard a crash and crying in the distance and made that your next target, a child no doubt was stuck somewhere.

         As you got closer, you climbed rubble, ignoring how your body ached and the scrapes and cuts throbbed with every movement. It was only when you got to the top of the crushed building that you could see where the child was, leg stuck under a concrete pillar as they were wailing in pain. You were about to jump down when a flash of blue past you, a man in a trench coat and a top hat was there, already hauling the pillar the best he could.

         He glances up at you and you jump to gather the child who had barely crawled from underneath. Picking her up the man, who had climbed out of the destroyed room, was telling you something but the adrenaline in your body made it hard to listen to anything. He reaches his hands out and you hand him the crying child before lifting yourself out. He flashes you a smile before letting you take the girl back and just as fast as he appeared in front of you, he had disappeared deeper into the battle.

         It wasn’t until after the soot settled and the now refugees were gathered that the revolutionary army scouted out the crowd and found you. You, along with plenty of other people, agreed to join and packed what little remained as you left your home behind to fight for freedom.

~~~

         While going through training, you were shocked when a cloaked figure came up to you, “Y/N was it? Why don’t you follow me?” The man’s voice was deep and you could see a tattoo covering half his face and you immediately listen to the head of the army. You follow him into the main building before sitting down in a meeting room, “I want you to help the second in command with his duties.” You sat there listening and confused as he explained further into what you’d be doing.

         Soon your heart sank, “You want me to be a secretary?” you interrupted him. The helping organizing the paperwork, the helping him remember meetings, putting together bags so he wouldn’t forget anything, even reminding him of meals. These mundane tasks were not what you were expecting when you joined, “What about liberating towns? Or helping those in need-“

         “You would be helping, by making sure everything works smoothly here, others can focus more out there,” Dragon said before dropping a file on the table, “You have enough experience working in business and banking that having you help with the books, and more importantly Sabo’s workload would be a great relief.” He flips through the file that you came to realize was everything about you. You argue a bit with the position before ultimately agreeing. There wasn’t much you can do when the head of the revolutionary army was asking you.

~~~

         As you walk towards the office that you knew was the second of command you could hear arguing pursue, “Why do I need a ‘helper’ They’ll just slow me down” A mans voice rang out and you let out a deep sigh, at least you weren’t the only one not looking forward to this.

         “Because I can’t babysit you all the time Sabo.” A determined and final tone of a women stated, “You’re trying to ignore your work right now as it is, of course you need help.” You chuckle a bit before knocking on the door and peeping your head in, “Y/N! Thank god, I looked into your background as was the one that begged Dragon to assign you to this idiot,” She beamed while pulling you further into the room.

~~~

         As time went one Sabo seemed to appreciate the effort you put forth, you never realized just how much the second in command had on his plate. You had started just answering calls and organizing trainings for his team without double-checking with him, you knew his schedule better than he did if he wasn’t out on a mission.

         And if he was on a mission? Well you filled in his seat and did everything you could without him, the stacks of piled up work sending you into overdrive the first time he had left for just 2 weeks. When he came back you had heard Koala practically dragging him to the office you sat yourself in yelling at him about paperwork, to both of their surprise most of it already done, some set to the side for a signature and a small pile of things you couldn’t do without him.

         The time you save him let him focus on other things, and at some point, he even remembered to take breaks and eat by himself much to everyone’s shock. “Y/N Where have you been all my life?” He asked while you brought him a cup of tea, despite not having as much work he’d still complain about the paperwork.

~~~

         Despite all the work you did to keep Sabo up-to-date and on track, you still enjoyed training with everyone else. You wanted to be able to fight even if you didn’t have too and enjoyed the thrill of your muscles burning after a particularly hard training session. You never tried to hide the fact that you did this from Sabo, you didn’t even know he’d want to know something like that, it’s just that it never came up previously.

         And there you were, sitting in the chair in front of his desk, avoiding his hardened gaze after you had gotten a pretty bad stab wound by accident. It wasn’t a particularly large wound, although it was rather deep and required medical attention, narrowly had it avoided an artery. The bandage on your thigh was secure, and while it ached it was fine. But you could feel the glare of your boss as you avoided the topic, “Are you going to tell me how you ended up with stitches?” His voice stern and arms crossed.

         “Why do I need to tell you that? I’m healthy and can continue working, there’s nothing wrong with me.” You say, your hands tapping your knees while looking away like a child who got caught coloring the wall. You didn’t understand why he was so insistent on this; he’s never shown concern before when you tripped and fell or banged your head on the door way.

         “Y/N, if that were true, I wouldn’t have gotten word that I can’t have you running around like normal.” He huffs out standing up, walking around his desk to stand in front of you. So that was it, he wasn’t actually concerned about you. You felt your heart drop slightly at the realization, He was frustrated that work wouldn’t be going smoothly for a while.

         “I’m so sorry that I’ll be an inconvenience for the foreseeable future,” It’s your turn to cross your arms and glare up at him, “I’ll be more careful next time as to not hold you back.” You go to stand up, wincing a little bit at the weight on your leg only to be pushed back down into the chair.

         “It’s not that Y/N.” Sabo’s grip on your shoulder was firm and he knelt down, putting his other hand over the bandage, massaging it slightly. The action made you blush slightly. “I don’t want to see you hurt, not like this” His voice was low, quiet enough that you barely heard him. Your mind started to flutter at what he could mean but you shook your head slightly.

         “You don’t have to protect me Sabo, I joined the revolutionaries thinking that I’d get hurt. It’s only coincidence that I ended up in one of the safest areas,” You blurted out, you wouldn’t let your heart make you believe things.

         The hand on your thigh gripped it at your words, making you wince at the sudden pressure, “That’s not what I mean.” Sabo mutters, standing back up and walking out of the room, leaving you all by yourself. You stare confused before standing up yourself, slowly making your way back to your quarters.

~~~

         Koala had come to you the next day saying that Sabo didn’t want to see you for the time being. She phrased as a way to make sure you’d heal fast but you couldn’t help but feel like there was more to it. Regardless you decided to heed her words and not head to the office building. Instead, you took your time in the library to read more about past missions, or sat near the training grounds to watch others prepare for combat.

         The few times you did try to see Sabo he had made sure someone stopped you and led you back to your room. It was rather frustrating that you couldn’t even check in on how he was doing or talk to him at all. You even tried finding him after the normal work hours to be turned away by anyone. You missed the random conversations that would pop up throughout the day and reading and watching had grown boring.

         It was only a week into your little break that you demanded to start working again, refusing to turn away when someone tried to stop you from entering the building. The doctor had finally approved of you walking around and you weren’t going to sit still until everything was perfectly healed. It was truly frustrating how much pent-up energy you seemed to have in you.

         When you knocked on the door opening it you saw the mess that had become of the empty office. Your mind forgetting the last time you had seen Sabo as you got to work organizing and cleaning everything. “How could he let this place get this bad?” You wondered out loud as you started sifting through the papers to separate them appropriately.

         You were only getting more exasperated as you saw papers from a week ago still not finished that you sat down and started catching up on everything. Filling out any information you knew, approving of some documents, refusing on ones you’d know Sabo wouldn’t allow. It wasn’t until you heard a stifled laughter that you looked up to see your boss in the doorway.

         He watched in amusement as you’re faced turned from that of pure focus to a contorted one of anger and annoyance. “What have you been doing while I was gone?!” You yell, slamming your hands down on the desk standing up. You walk around the desk, Sabo suddenly realizing just how pissed you are, “I was forced to take time off and you can’t even properly keep up?!”

         “Hey, Y/N wait a second-“ His words are stopped by a surprisingly strong grip on his shoulder as you smile up at him. Pulling him to his desk and forcing him to sit down.

         “You aren’t leaving this room until you’re finished.” You say with a finalized tone, “You get mad at me for getting hurt and force me to take time off but can’t even do your work properly when I’m away??”

         “I was busy with other things-“

         “Do I have to babysit you to make sure your work?” You place a stack in front of him, forcing a pen into his hand. You were not going to listen to his excuses, it was an awful idea for you not to come into the office for a week for the sole fact that you weren’t babysitting him doing his work. Sabo looks at you before sulking into his work as you stare daggers at him.

~~~

         “Y/N please, I’ve done so much already~” Sabo cried out from his desk that you had decidedly ignored. Sabo kept trying to ignore work by talking to you, and so you have been giving him the silent treatment for most of the day. You glance over to see the hefty pile of paperwork that still has to be done but the even larger of work that has to be sent out.

         Sighing you get up from your spot, “When I get back you can stop for the day.” Your voice short as you grabbed a stack to deliver them to the appropriate parties. Sabo looks at you with pleading eyes, “If I come back and you aren’t working, I’ll make sure you can’t go on a mission for another month.” You had been able to switch Sabo’s missions thanks to Dragon, and just as you had pent up energy from a single week of doing nothing, your scarred boss would get restless if he doesn’t leave base ever so often.

         “Are you mad?” Sabo asks as you’re about to leave the room. It stops you in your tracks. Mad? Sabo didn’t often care about your emotions, or he didn’t seem to let you know if he cared. But now the man was blatantly asking you and it felt strange.

         Turning yourself around to face him you lean against the door way, a throb still coming from your stab wound, “I’m not mad Sabo. I’m just disappointed in you.” And the guilty face he was wearing shifted into one of horror as he yelled out that, that was worse. You chuckle a bit while turning away. “Then remember to do your work when I’m away,” you yell over your shoulder as you walk away.  At least he wasn’t acting too different.

~~~

         “Absolutely Not.” Sabo’s nagging voice rang through your ears. You had finally convinced Dragon to let you go on a field mission, but only if Sabo would let you go. You had barely gotten the question out of your mouth when Sabo hit his fist against the desk, startling you at his sudden outburst.

         “Why not?” Your voice was cool but it was clear you were frustrated at the sudden refusal, “I’ve been continuing to train and Koala agreed to help you with work while I’m away. What’s the issue?!”

         “Why are you even training in the first place? You got stabbed just a month ago and you think you’re ready to go on a mission? And what about you’re actual job? You work for me Y/N.” Sabo leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms.

         “How am I suppose to help if you don’t let me go on missions-“

         “You’re not going. That’s final.” Sabo interrupted you staring right into your eyes with a sudden determination, “I don’t care how much you want to go on a mission, I cannot risk you getting hurt.”

         “I signed up for the risk Sabo. I know what could happen and if needed I’m prepared to-“ You flinch when you Sabo stands suddenly, his chair hitting the wall behind him with a thud.

         “Don’t you dare finish that sentence. I need you here. No where else. You are not to train anymore either.” He’s leaning over his desk now, his hands balled into fists that you’re sure if he wasn’t wearing gloves his knuckles would be white.

His words ring through your head for just a second before you respond without thinking, “You won’t even let me go on missions and now you’re saying I can’t train? Who do you think you are to stop me from doing things in my freetime?” You furrow your eyes, tilting your head closer to the man in front of you.

“I didn’t think I’d have to babysit the girl I like from getting hurt!” Sabo yells, his voice echoing in the room.

“Getting hurt is apart of the job. I’ll be more carefu-“ You stop yourself midsentence. One. Two. Three. Four seconds for you to process what he just said. From the looks of it, he also if just realizing what he’s admitted, the scowl on his face being replaced with one of dumb horror. “Who do you have to babysit?” You voice quakes a bit, you must have heard him wrong and he averts his eyes, standing up straight and readjusting his vest, seemingly ignoring your question.

The silence that fills the air rings in your ears as you stare at the man in front of you. His arms crossed while he refuses to meet your gaze, his face tinged red, “You’re dismissed for the evening Y/N.”

More silence fills the air before you respond, “You really think I’m going to leave just like that without clarifying what you said previously?” You lean back in your chair, crossing a leg over the other. Sabo glares at you for a second before sighing at the display of your getting comfortable, a tug of a smile appearing on your face as he walks around his desk to be right in front of you.

You look up at him, waiting for him to say something but are more shocked at the hardened face coming closer to you, either of his arms now trapping you in your chair. “I like you.” His face was merely inches away from your own and this time it’s your confident teasing face that turns into one of embarrassment as you feel the heat rise to your cheeks, any quick remark you were prepared to make falling silent on your lips as your mouth hangs open.

Your eyes flash about Sabo’s face, from his unblinking, unmoving eyes, to his eyebrows, even to his lips before going back to his eyes. It’s getting hard to think with how close he is, and such a direct sentence made your head spin, “Now than Y/N. If you have something to say, or you want to leave. You better do it now.” His tone was serious as he watches for any sign of resistance.

You blink for what feels like the first time in forever, closing your mouth as you realize you are still caged by him. Slowly his hand goes to under your chin, lifting your face up to his, it’s the smallest hesitation before he meets your lips with his.

A soft, gentle kiss that drives your mind crazy as you lean into it yourself. His lips leaves yours, though he is still close enough that you can feel them brush against yours as he speaks, “Is that your answer Y/N?” His voice just barely above a whisper as his eyes flutter open to yours. You can only manage a small nod as he smiles, standing back up tall. “Then you understand why I can’t let you go on a mission.” He proudly proclaims.

The sudden change blinks you out of your romantic trance, “What?! That’s not fair,” You complain, albeit much gentler this time round while standing up to be closer to eye level with him.

“Bosses orders, girlfriends can’t go on missions.” Sabo shrugs his shoulders, a wide grin across his face as he watches your face turn another shade of pink. He gently places his hands on your waist, pulling you closer, “Besides your wound is still healing. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you wincing every now and then.”

You breath hitches as your arms immediately go around his neck. “It’s just sore nothing more,” the subtle lie crosses your lips and you can see it doesn’t work as Sabo’s face changes to one of scolding, “I’ll be more careful.” The small grin the plays on his lips makes your heart skip a beat, “Talk to me again after you can run a mile without pain.” He leans down to kiss you again and you only hum in agreeance.

#One Piece #One Piece X Reader #Revolutionary Sabo #Sabo #Sabo X Reader #Part 1

[undercoverpena]

the day three words are said

frankie morales x f!reader | resurrected chances

they're simple. those three words. especially when you mean them

wordcount: 2k themes: mention of triple frontier plot, FLUFF, sweetness. love declarations. allusion to frankie doing bad things prior. but no use of y/n.

Frankie knows what love is.

He’s experienced it—in all of the different levels and varying forms. He’s experienced it where his breath has been taken away and others where it has crept up, gently tapped its finger across his shoulders and made him smile.

There’s the kind of love he has with his friends—his buddies. The ones bonded together by battle, blood and loss.

There’s the familial one, the kind he’s always known—always kept close.

Then, there’s the love he felt for his ex. The one who had been there, who he thought he loved with all he had, but later found that wasn’t true at all.

And then, then there was you.

You, who he’s sure he’s been in love with long before today. The signs have always been there. Brimming and growing from as far back as your two’s first date.

Your foot against his calf. Smile spreading, practically grinning as he tells you some story that he can’t even remember now. And then you leant forward, the fabric of your dress slipping from your skin. The starters had not even arrived when your hand slid over his: Frankie, shall we go somewhere else?

That’s how he found himself half an hour later, all dressed up, in a booth at McDonalds. Your finger stealing one of his fries, your grin larger than he’d seen on the night of Benny’s fight.

If Frankie were to look back and ask at what point he thinks he began falling in love with you, he’s sure it would be that moment.

The moment he tried to get the fry back from your finger, you managed to get sauce on your nose—him swiping it off with his finger, your eyes sparkling under the ceiling lights before he married his lips to yours.

Frankie hammers his knuckles against the door and puts his hands in his jacket pockets. All unsettled, awkward. Before he pulls them back out, wrapping, folding his arms over his chest.

He’d been about to adjust again when you pulled open the door.

Frankie isn't sure you even mean to, but you wrap him in goodness, light and warmth. He feels at ease and all of a sudden calm. Easily able to forget how long he's been wandering, all aimless, lost amongst forests and treacherous seas.

There hadn't been a plan. He'd dropped his son off, said the awful goodbye he dreads each time he has to—and then he drove.

And drove.

Finding himself outside of your door. Months of dates. Weeks of it sitting in his chest. Those three words clotting in his throat, growing larger, making it difficult to swallow.

It's why he's not surprised to find a confused expression greeting him, slowly morphing, extending out before it’s halted. Then, it's quickly consumed by a smile, a glimmer in your eye and a look of pure tenderness.

It’s a gaze which fills him with a warmth from the outside in. A chain reaction you enact within him with ease. A thing you’ve been able to do to him since the moment he first met you.

“Frankie—hi? Did… did we have plans?”

Removing his hat, he shakes his head. Fingers, carding through his hair, catching on a knot as he watches your head tilt.

“Do you w-wanna come in?”

Following you in, the aroma of you meets his nose—the scent which is so undefinable, yet so you.

Just like the furnishings, all airy, but snug—a soft glow from the lamp in the corner spraying delicate amber across all it can touch.

His eyes glance over filled photo frames, people he’s met and some he’s heard stories of—his fingerprint still on one from the first time he was here. A question rolling from his tongue and a story from yours.

There are also the ones filled with him, your grin illuminated, his own once foreign to him, but now forever captured. Because you make it easy for him to just breathe, to stop, allow him to just be.

His eyes slide, moving to something new, something colourful and out of place—his heart almost stopping, halting altogether.

Because there, in a frame (he knows must be new), is the art Luca had given you the last time he saw you. The dragon you’d whispered to his son about drawing, all coloured in your favourite shades, with the sun in the corner mirroring a smile he knows you helped draw.

He’s barely listening when you ask him if he wants a drink, all set to leave the room—likely to retrieve him one all the same—when he speaks up.

Clears his throat, and shifts the lump which has been slowly forming on the unannounced drive over.

“Can we talk?”

The words catch and hit the air oddly. Barely a sentence, no more than three words, yet they drape over the room—hanging, thickening like smog around the two of you as you pause in your movements.

Especially because he knows he has said them without confidence—or intent.

It’s instant, the way your face flickers with emotions—some easier to read than others.

Frankie likes that about you, that your face tells every story, whether pain or happiness. Nothing concealed, nothing easily able to be hidden. You’re genuine and authentic; you’re all kind and real.

Nothing too much, or too little.

Just like two nights ago, when he rang—flustered and stressed. You hear him out, calming him. Lightly asking him what he needs, not running for the hills as his to-do list spoiled the air. You just took things from him, removing them from his shoulders, all those miles away from him.

“Frankie, are you... Fuck—is Luca okay?”

Nodding, quickly. Reassuringly.

He gently places his hat onto your sideboard, staring at you. “He’s fine. Promise.”

It does nothing to settle you. He can tell, something he notices almost immediately. Something he can’t form the words to correct because he’s focusing on willing himself not to unspool. Wanting to do this right, not unravel in a mess at your feet.

Mostly, Frankie doesn’t want to just let it all flow from him without care, or spill the truth and paint your ears in all that he feels.

Because he’s more than okay.

If anything, he feels more than he ever thought he could.

He feels so much for you, he’s struggling with how to say it. The words tangling somewhere in the back of his oesophagus, frantic to emerge—to thrive in the space the two of you have made for one another.

You shift on the spot, worry stitching itself into the smile you try to show.

His confession had been burning a hole in his tongue for a while. Having first appeared as an ember weeks ago, growing larger when he opened his fridge and found your note—those scribbled-out instructions and timings, your little 'have fun' and a drawn heart.

You step closer, panic carving deeper into your face. “Whatever it is, it’ll be okay. If t—this is too much, with Luca and work—”

“No! No baby, no. It’s…”

He takes a breath.

Your hands coming across your front, fingers looping together over your waist—a swallow heard, all loud, practically punching a hole in the silence.

Sighing, Frankie rolls his lips. “I think about you without even trying.”

His heart hammers in his chest—bashing itself against his ribs.

The sound reverberates around him, travelling up to his skull. The congestion in his chest eases, and the fluttering that’s been nothing but incessant, slows.

Because he’s setting it free, letting it escape, allowing you to have it.

So he takes another breath. Flexes his hands.

“I’ve… I’ve fucked up a lot, baby. I—I did some things in my life that I’m not entirely proud of.”

He watches as your mouth clamps shut, body stilling. A nervousness quivering in the air, but less so than before. Something which urges him on, gives him the push to continue as you remain dutifully silent—allowing him to speak.

“I especially—I wasn’t in a great headspace after Colombia. Rough doesn’t… it doesn’t even begin to cover the half of it. Fuck. I even went and convinced myself that there wasn’t much left for me—falling down a hole that was nothing but pitch black. Except for Luca.”

You swallow, and it sounds louder in the quiet. More so as he lets his words settle, soak.

Frankie lets his fingers brush over his palm, thumb cupping over them as he takes a breath.

“Guys like me… we don’t do what I did and think we deserve a good ending to their story. I know that. And I’ve done it all before, right? Tried to settle down. Tried to be good. But that kind of stuff, it was never in the cards for me.”

It smooths, the expression on your face.

Slowly fading into something blank, with no edges or easily discernible things, he can begin to unpick.

“I was stuck in a dark place for a while—didn’t have much hope of getting out on my own, or ever—to be honest. So here I am, wandering around for years on autopilot, going through the motions. Reserved in thinking this is it. Everything’s just background noise. Wake up, eat, work, have Luca overnight, sleep and repeat.

“That is until Benny strong-armed me into showing up to his fight. And that day—baby, I’ll never forget it.”

He smiles and lets it sparkle out across his face, watching intently as your eyes widen ever so slightly. Engulfing him in that same sunshine and love all over again.

“Fuck, that first time you smiled at me? Baby, I was doomed. Didn’t even stand a chance. It was like… suddenly, the world’s a little less sad. Like I felt a little less lonely. Things all a little bit brighter. Am I making any sense? Because what I’m trying to say is, I didn’t feel like it was impossible. I felt seen. For the first time in… fuck… ages. It felt like I had a light at the end of the tunnel. And, if it isn’t clear, it was you.”

“Frankie…”

He steps closer, bridging the gap.

Lifting his hand, cupping both your cheeks. He tilts those eyes up, so they embed themselves into his soul—just like he wants them to. Like he needs them, too.

“I am in love with you,” he adds, more in a whisper than before. “Not just because you see me, not because you do things like fetch my son some PJs, grab groceries, and cook me a meal. But because it isn’t hard to love you—I don’t have to force it. I don’t have to remind myself to ask you things, I want to.”

Twinkling and glistening, your eyes blink. Mouth shifting, twitching, before spreading into a smile. He takes the chance to stroke his thumb against the edge of it, feels it, and basks in it as his other hand drops down to your hip, fingers spreading, fanning across.

“You done?”

Pressing his forehead against yours, Frankie feels your fingers on his temple, soft and gentle—playing with his curls, as he nods. His nose brushes against yours, watching your lips curl up into a beam, cheeks rising, as he finds his own begin to mirror it.

Then, he hears it, all soft and shaky. “Good, because I am very much in love with you too, Francisco.”

Closing his eyes, Frankie basks in it.

The feel of it—all of it. The way it sounds to hear you say those words back—the way you let his name fall like a silk ribbon from your tongue.

So much so, that he’s sure he’s being wrapped in it—your words. Being pulled into a pool of love, he wasn’t sure he’d ever have, ever deserve—suddenly diving, swimming in it. But here it is. Your love, merging with his.

And it feels right, fitting.

Then you repeat it again. And again. Whispering it like a chant, those three words, until his lips capture yours, tasting the words—feeling them down his throat as he singes them against your mouth.

Pressing each syllable and letter to yours, then your neck, your collarbone. Until you’re both stumbling, tripping over clothes that are being removed before you're on your back on your sofa, and Frankie is drinking you in.

The person he’s in love with—the one he realises he’s always been looking for.

The one he's been waiting for.

an: fuck i love these two.

thank you so much to G for the help with this, including the gifted elements that made this what it is.

#francisco morales x reader #frankie morales x reader #francisco morales fanfiction #���🩷 francisco morales #frankie morales x you #francisco morales x f!reader #francisco morales x you #frankie morales fanfiction #triple frontier x reader #mm: resurrected chances #frankie morales x f!reader #francisco catfish morales #catfish morales x reader #frankie catfish morales x reader #pedrostories #pedro pascal character fanfic

[hwaseonghwasworld]

Best friends brother chapter 10 LAST PART: I Always Come Prepared

Summary: Yunho doesn’t want his baby sister (Y/n) dating any of his friends especially Mingi since they are like brothers to him and it’s an issue when all Y/n’s friends are dating Yunho’s friends but he wouldn’t let Y/n talk to any guys since he’s so overprotective, it’s such a shame that she’s been with Mingi for almost 2 years and no one knows. What will happen if Yunho finds out?

Song Mingi x Reader

Warnings: cursing, smut, fights

Word count: 1k

Genre: series, angst, comedy, fluff, hidden relationship, High school au

Updates: probably Friday at 10pm BST

“Mingi we should go to Kang Daniel’s fan sign” Mingi sigh eyed me saying “why do you like him so much?” I hit his arm a little “what do you mean his voice is so angelic and his dancing” I was blushing just saying those and he rolled his eyes.

“Can we go pleaseeeeee” “fine” “why do you want me to come anyway” I looked at him and told him “for comfort” “and you know I don’t like going places alone” he nodded then I jump onto him kissing his cheeks.

A couple year later me and Mingi live together in an apartment in Seoul but Mingi is a Kpop idol with his friends while I go to Yonsei University, and I study interior design. Mingi proposed to you recently since you two have been together for 7 years.

You were about to go to uni and since Mingi has to be up early as well so you both ended up waking up at the same time, as soon as you both get ready you kiss Mingi goodbye after dropping him off to the company’s and driving to my university, I made new friends in uni since my friends are also kpop idols so they don’t go here.

“Y/n that dress that you made in class is so beautiful” I smile and thanked her, we went into class and I got a text from Mingi, I smile and texted him back.

“You’re having a wedding?” “Yeah me and Min- my boyfriend have been together for 7 years” “and you didn’t invite us?” I never told them that I was dating a kpop idol since I felt like there was no need, my graduation is soon anyway and my wedding is a month after, but since I’ve known my friends for 4 years I guess it’s best to just let them come “of course you guys are invited, we haven’t really sorted out the guest arrangements yet anyway” “ok so like when is it” I told them where and when it is, and said how they wouldn’t bring anyone I don’t know but they can bring a date, since I didn’t want people to know that I’m married to an idol yet since the groups dating ban hasn’t ended yet even though almost all the members are in a relationship.

“So why doesn’t he go here” I looked at them trying to find something to say “he works” “ohh ok” “oh yeah Y/n did you see ATEEZ’s new comeback.” “No I don’t really listen to them” she showed ma a picture of the 8 boys and I kept my eyes on Mingi “so whose your bias?” “Wait she looks like a Yunho bias” “yeah they look the same too” I looked at them shocked and disgusted, I did not want them to say that even if they don’t know about me and Yunho being siblings, “my bias is Mingi actually”

“Really?, my bias is Hongjoong” I looked at them and nodded as they were fangirling over each member “I really wish I could marry Mingi, he’s literally husband material” I nodded agreeing with them since it’s true, Mingi is husband material.

After school I decided to go grocery shopping, while I was searching for stuff someone back hugged me and I turn around seeing the man with a mask and a hat covering his eyes, I knew it was Mingi and I hugged him putting my head on his chest smelling his scent. “What are you going here, what if someone sees you” he smiled giving me a hat and mask so it seems less suspicious “I always come prepared princess” I smile as he helped me hold the basket.

When we were about to pay and Mingi could see that the woman could recognize him, he put his head down so she couldn’t see his eyes. We walked out and went into the car, “I think the lady saw me” I looked at him shocked “wait really” “Yh but I don’t think she realized who I am I nodded hoping he doesn’t get a scandal.

Once we walked into our apartment and ATEEZ and (G)-idle were here I was shocked to see them since I thought they were busy, I hugged them, they had another member called soojin and she was so nice she hugged me and smiled at me wanting to know about the wedding, “so how when’s the wedding?” I looked and Mingi and smiled then back at soojin, “it’s in 3 months”

A couple months later it was the wedding ceremony, i was taking pictures and as my friends from my uni saw me with Mingi walking up to me and kissing me, getting ready to take pictures with him. “Wait … Mingi IS YOUR HUSBAND!” I looked at them in shock as my brother answered them still lowkey not wanting us to be together “yup” “I don’t even know why my sister chose my best friend, but it is what it is” the girls were just flabbergasted, they didn’t know how to react. “Ok so let me get this straight, you’re getting married to a kpop idol, your brother is a kpop idol, and your friend are kpop idols too” “yes” I answered as they stood there in utter shock “THATS SO COOL” I laughed a little as we took pictures to and they go to the main venue.

While I was walking down the isle so me and Mingi could finally get married my friends looked at me excited as they were quietly rooting me on, I turned to look at Mingi and he kept looking at me the whole time, as soon as we finally got to kiss people cheered us on as Mingi pulled me closer and wrapping his arms around my waist while I cupped his cheeks as we pulled into a soft passionate kiss.

💖

Previous Chapter

Masterlist

Taglist: @scarfac3 @huachengsbestie01 @tunaasan

Side note: I apologize if this seemed rushed I’ve been pretty busy with my exams which is the reason why the time is so messy and also because of the writers block but i will try and have better timing with the next ff and try and make it longer

Thank you for reading this ff💖

#ateez #ateez angst #ateez atiny #ateez au #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez fluff #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez smau #ateez masterlist #ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez x female reader #ateez x y/n #ateez x atiny #ateez x you #ateez series #ateez soft hours #ateez mingi #mingi x y/n #mingi fluff #ateez song mingi #mingi x reader #mingi smut #song mingi #mingi icons #mingi x you #mingi imagines #brothers best friend

[strawberriescherrieskiwi]

Overthinking until I’m Drunk

Request

Part Two to Friends don’t look at friends that way.

Wordcount: 3.8K+

Description: You were trying to move on. You got a boyfriend and partied and put Timothee out of your mind, but you could help but think, friends don’t look at friends that way. And it only get worse when Timothee arrives at bar in London

A/N: Thank you thank you thank you to all the amazing people that asked for a second part, to everyone that has read all my fics over the last year and a half. You are all amazing, I love you all and can never been more grateful. I hope you all enjoy this.

Warning: Angst, smut, rough sex, slight dub-con, domTimmy, cheating.

“Can I have 6 shots of tequila? Oh, and one of those limoncellos you made me last night?” You said to the bartender blinking eagerly at him.

“For you anything,” he flirted.

You laughed, throwing your head back at something that didn’t warrant that reaction, but you were a bit drunk so everything was funny. “I wouldn’t be flirting if I was you. My boyfriend is not a fan of it.”

“He can fight me then.”

“You know he would take you up on that,” you chuckled, throwing yourself into one of the barstools and waiting for him to make your drinks. You felt good, the best you’ve felt in months, but then again you’ve been partying a lot more.

Scanning the bar you caught sight of your group of friends, and your boyfriend laughing at something and you smiled softly. He was radiant, and every woman in the room was jealous that you two were dating. You’ve only been public for about a week, but it was going on.

“You seem to be having a good time,” a voice, one that you knew so well, said from your left.

Your smile left your face and your mood dropped. You turned and caught Timmy’s eyes. “Timmy, hey. How have you been?”

“How have I been?” He scoffed.

“Yes. How have you been?”

“You would know if you answer any of my calls or my text,” he spat out.

You closed your eyes. You deserved that. You’ve been avoiding him for months. Before you were at least answering text half-ass, you both were, but then Timmy became proactive. 

He wanted to see you. Constantly asking when you would meet up, and have a movie night, but you couldn’t see him. You didn’t know if you would ever be okay with seeing him again, not when you still ached for him. 

But he made it clear. You were friends and only would be friends. So you needed to figure that out, needed to learn to be his friend. The issue was you wanted more and until you didn’t you would stay away from him

“I’m sorry, Timmy. I’ve been busy.”

“Hmm, partying, drinking…. Getting a boyfriend.”

“So you heard?” You questioned looking away from him.

“Well, I did come up when you announced it.” 

You groaned closing your eyes, thinking of your stupidity, your bitterness that led to outting your relationship.

“Y/n Y/n” Shouted some paparazzi trying to get your attention as you walked down the street.

It was early in the morning and after a night of partying you had a killer migraine there was nothing you wanted more than a greasy burger from your favorite burger joint but no a swarm of vultures had to surround you the moment you stepped out of your house.

“Y/n come on give us a pretty picture.”

“Y/n have you gained weight?

“Are the rumors about a Marvel deal true?”

“What about the rumors of drugs and excessive partying?

You groaned pulling your hat lower on your face. “Guys, I am just going to get food, can you let me breathe?

“Answer the questions and we will,” one said.

You rolled your eyes knowing that would never work, but your vision was starting to blur with the lights and you wanted to be left alone. “When it partying a problem, I’m young and enjoying life. 

“And drugs? Are you taking them? There are rumors about Cocaine?”

“No, I have not and have no plans to take drugs.” You huffed trying to push past them, only now noticing that had you boxed in and pressed against a wall.

“Any truth to the rumors about you and Timothee Chalamet?”

You flinched at his name and then laughed, bitterly. “What rumors?”

“That you two have broken up?”

“Kind of have to be dating to break up with someone. We are friends, only friends, always friends. Nothing more.”

“There are pictures of the two of you two kissing.”

“Yeah, that’s not true. We are not dating. I am seeing someone that is not Timothee.”

“Really who? Someone better?” They were baiting you. You knew that, but you were so frustrated.

“Timothee is a great guy, but not mine, it won’t happen. I am happy with Tom Glynn-Carney.”

‘The English actor? Do you plan to live in New York for London then?”

“If I do that then however will you stalk me them?” You said sarcastically before pushing past them and slipping into the burger shop.

“I’m sorry that dragged you into it, but you should be happy. I made sure they knew we aren’t together just friends,” You said.

“Y/N. I know you are upset. I-I meant well when I said that.”

“I know you did and we are not fine. I’m fine with us being friends.”

“Then why are you avoiding me?”

“I’m not, I’ve been busy. Why the hell are you in England anyways?” You questioned with narrowed eyes. You thought you could avoid running into him in London, but of course now.

Timmy was silent and for a moment you thought he came because he knew you were there, but why would you follow you across the world? You were avoiding him, but you were just friends, there was no reason to do that. So you dismiss the idea.

Just then, the bartender placed your order in front of you. “Here you go, darling,” he grinned.

Sighing in relief to be out of this conversation you grinned taking the tray. “Thank you.” Then you turned to Timmy.

Neither of you said anything as you looked at each other. You’ve known each other your whole lives there was never an awkward moment, never a moment like this, but you stared at each other, both willing the other to say something but neither of you did.

So you nodded and walked back to your table. The moment you arrived your friend group cheered and Tom pressed a kiss to your cheek. “You alright, love?” he asked, against your face.

Your eyes were still glued to the bar. Still glued to Timmy’s green eyes. His eyes were swimming with pain, anger, and something else. 

You were sure yours were similar, but you had to stop getting pulled into his gaze into his web. There was no way that you would end up with each other. Neither of you wanted to hurt the other, this was the best way.

Closing your eyes you leaned against Tom, turning your head into his shoulder. “Yeah, I’m alright.”

But one thought circled your mind. Friends didn’t look at friends that way.

An hour later you danced to the music pumping through the speakers. You were even more buzzed than before. You felt as if you were floating on cloud nine. Tom's lips were attached to your neck and you giggled as you carded your fingers through his hair.

Most of your friends were on the dance floor and you two had the booth to yourself. “Tom we are in public,” you teased but tilted your neck giving him more access.

“So,” he teased back.

You giggled again, eyes closing but a heat pricked along your skin and you knew that Timmy’s eyes were back on you. He was burning holes into you and you should have ignored him, but your eyes opened and searched for him.

He was glaring at you. His eyes were hard and clouded with the amount of alcohol he’s had since you last caught his eyes. Jealousy blazed and he was nearly shaking with anger. He had no right. You were friends, that is what he wanted he couldn’t be jealous. He didn’t have the right.

Pushing Tom away you took a big intact of air.

“Are you alright?” Tom asked, concerned.

Still with your eyes on Timmy. “Yeah. I just need a moment. A bit overwhelmed,” you laughed nervously.

You got up and quickly made a run to the bathroom. You placed your hands on the side of the sink, panting heavily. You needed to stop with Timmy. It wasn’t going to happen. He had to stop looking at you like that. You closed your eyes willing yourself to calm down. 

The door opened behind you. You heard the lock turn and someone walk up behind you. So close you could feel their body heat. You hated yourself for already knowing who it was. You cursed yourself for drawing this out for avoiding him and not talking before it came to this.

“Timmy, what are you doing in here?” Turning around, leaning against the sink you opened your eyes to stare at him.

“I-I don’t know. You’ve been avoiding me and you are all I could think about and I’m overthinking everything about us about our friendship and if we.. if we were more. And I’m drunk and upset and I just.” He moved closer cupping your face and kissing you.

You gasped and he forced his tongue into your mouth, pulling you closer, squeezing your sides. You moaned, melting into him and giving in to the kiss and kissing him back. You should push him away, but you pulled him closer. Timmy hoisted you onto the sink, forcing your thighs apart and situating himself between them.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” you said when you broke apart for air. Timmy’s lips continued to press into your skin, moving to your neck. Just seeing Tom’s marks pissed him off and he bites down roughly on your neck.

You whined, your hand dropping to the mirror behind you. He sucked and bit harder and flicked his tongue over the bruised skin. “Timmy stop. We can’t do that. We are friends just friends.”

“Friends don’t look at each other the way we do,” he said, moving to the other side of your neck, his hands moving under your skirt rubbing your cunt, you gasped bucking against his hand

“So wet for me already,” he said smugly pushing your underwear aside. “And so responsive,” he added, pushing a finger inside of you. 

“I have a boyfriend,” you whined. And then you remembered that you did have one. One that was in the club probably waiting for you. You shoved at his shoulders until he groaned and pulled away.

His lips were swollen and his eyes a dark green they were almost black. All you could see was desire and lust in his eyes. You knew you looked the same, but you couldn't do this. No matter how much you wanted this, you could do this, now when it was just jealousy and lust for him.

“I can’t believe you did that. What the fuck is your problem?” You shouted.

“My problem? My problem is you. It’s always been you. God I came already to London for you. Fuck I was stupid and wrong. If we were friends if it wouldn’t feel this way to be apart for you. I wouldn’t be so drunk every night to numb the pain. I wouldn’t be so jealous and hurt because I fucked up but I love you.”

You sucked in a harsh breath but you didn’t say anything you couldn’t say anything.

“I left New York, you know. The city made me sick, everything reminded me of you. I went to France. Stayed with Pauline, but it was still all about you and then I heard you were here and I had to come.”

“What do you want me to say, Timmy.”

“I don’t know but it’s been hell without you. I-I just love you,”

“Don’t say that” You said, closing your eyes.

Timmy closed the distance between the two of you. His hands cupped your face. “It’s true.”

“Timmy please, I have a boyfriend.”

“It doesn’t matter you are mine,” he said and his lips were back on yours roughly, his finger back inside of you.

“Timmy. Fuck we can’t do that.” Your words didn’t match your actions, your legs opened wider and you moaned.

“You wanted this. You’ve always wanted this. I wanted this.” Timmy grabbed your jaw, kissing you once more. You bite his lips, forcing your tongue into his mouth this time. 

All coherent thoughts left your mind. You gave into your desire all the things you wanted. “Please,” you begged against his lips.

Smirking, he pulled back to stare at you. “Tell me you want this. That you want me.” He demanded.

“No.” You couldn’t you might sleep with him but you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction. Not after everything he put you through.

“Difficult when we both want this.” He growled, pushing two more fingers inside of you, and roughly pressing on your clit. Your hips jumped and your mouth opened in a loud moan of his name.

“Fucking say my name. Mine only. You’re fucking mine, right?” He said, thrusting in and out of you quickly. His fingers spread you open and fill you deliciously.  You moaned, riding his fingers as you got closer and closer to your release.

“Timmy, don’t stop please,” you gasped tugging on his hair, kissing him needily.

“Always wanted to hear you say that,” Timmy groaned, pulling away from you. You whined, reaching for him, but he just smirked, pulling down his pants and stroking his cock.

“Beg for my cock.”

“No,” you said stubbornly.

He pinched your clit.

“Beg for my cock,” he repeated.

You bite your lips, looking away from him.

Timmy narrowed his eyes moving closer. He spanked your cunt hard and you moaned trying to keep your sounds to yourself. He chuckled spanking your cunt again and again until you were sobbing and begging him to fuck you.

“Wasn’t so hard,” he laughed, lining up his cock and pushing into you, filling you completely with just one harsh thrust of his hips.  You choked, his cock was bigger than anyone you ever had before.

“Big so big,” you whined.

“Shush, it’s okay, got you.” He said, kissing you sweetly. He moved his hips slowly barely thrusting giving you time to adjust to his size. Your chest was pressed together and you could feel how fast his heart was beating.

When you relaxed against him, he pulled his hips back until his cock was almost out and then he was sinking back into you. His thrust instantly picked up speed, fucking you brutally.

Your mouth opened, but no sound came out. Your eyes rolled back and you trembled in his hold, as he wrapped his body around yours. “Tell me you love me,” he begged.

“Timmy please don’t.”

He dove his hips faster, taking one of your legs and putting it on his shoulder, allowing him to sink deeper. His lips attached to your neck. “I love you so much. Tell me you love me. Tell me that despite how stupid I am, you love me.”

You sobbed as his cock pounded into you at an ungodly pace, his hips slamming into your clit. “Fuck you are the worse. You hurt me all the time, but I love you. I love you so much. Always have.” Your walls tightened around him, and you grabbed a fist full of his hair and kissed him as you came.

“Shit shit Merde,” Timmy whined into your mouth, thrusting a few more times before spilling inside of you.

You both held each other close as you came down from your high. You shook in his hold, tears falling down your face. 

Timmy pulled back in a panic, wiping away your tears. “Hey no no, don’t cry. I’m sorry fuck don’t cry,” He pulled out of you, causing you to whine and cry harder.

“I’m sorry. I’m always fucking up and hurting you. I don’t know where to even start to make this up to you, you are my whole life my whole heart.”

“Then why did you push me away? Why did you say we were just friends and that’s all we could be and then look at me like that all the time? Why did you come here?”

“Because I’m a coward and I’m stupid. I thought pushing you away was best for us. You are my best friend. At first, I didn’t know how I felt and then I missed you crazily, and then my thoughts were consumed by you but I thought it would be best to still be friends. I didn’t want to risk our friendship, risk losing you.”

You laughed through your tears. “And look how good that turned out.” You pushed him away getting to your feet. You wobbled and Timmy moved to help but you glared at him. Grabbing the sink you steadied yourself.

“I know I fucked up. I’m sorry.”

“You’ve said that a few times,” you said, pushing past him and reaching for the doorknob.

Timmy put his hand over yours. “Where are you going?”

You sighed turning around. “To go tell my boyfriend that I cheated on him.”

Timmy removed his hand. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. And I am too.”

You walked quickly out of the bathroom. Flinching when you heard the sound of the mirror breaking. You took a shuddered breath, willing yourself to keep walking to ignore the sound of your heart shattering as well.

                                             Taglist.

@gatoenlaciudad

@iloveneilperry

#timothee chalamet #timothee chalamet smut #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee chalamat imagine #timothee chalamet x you #timmy smut #timothee chalamet fics #timothee chalamet angst

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

Hey Mousy!

I was thinking about how reckless the farmer can be, you know, fighting monsters, overworking to maintain a farm, and even being a guinea pig for others.

But despite all that, the farmer stays alive (CofcofPoweroftheScrollandMr.Qicofcof)

But, how do you think the villagers would react to the news of the farmer's death?

Oh, pain... 🥲 Thank you for ask, Shiro 🫶

_________________________________________

It was rare to catch a conversation between Marlon and Lewis, but the old adventurer had come to the town mayor's home... with tragic news. Marlon himself was as gloomy as a dark cloud. The news he brought had shocked the equally old Pelican Town Mayor.

They're.... dead? In the mines?

Merciful Yoba.... But, they came here as farmer, why did they have to go into the most dangerous place?...

The next ones to be shocked were Dr. Harvey, who stated Farmer's official death, and Maru, who was helping him. The young inventor gasped in horror: seeing Farmer's body had made her sick, so Harvey had to do almost everything himself. All this was late at night, and just the next day in the afternoon, Maru was to meet her girlfriends at Haley and Emily's house to discuss various gossip. And Maru (unfortunately), also got some news.....

All the girls gasped after hearing this, Penny even dropped her tea cup from shock. Abigail turned even paler, because just yesterday she had begged Farmer to take her to the mines, but Farmer had politely refused her. Perhaps, because of this, they had saved her from death...

Pelican Town is a small town, and news of the death spread like the plague. Caroline and Pierre learned everything from their daughter, truly regretting the death of the young farmer. And even though Pierre was not close to them and for him it is, in fact, just the loss of another client, he does not wish anyone such a terrible fate, to die young, alone...

Gus didn't turn on the music machine in the Saloon, also giving himself over to mourning the loss of a member of their commune. Let the others not be fooled by the rather stale reaction of Shane, Alex, and George in calling the farmer a fool. They just don't know how to react to the loss of a loved one again.

It would seem that Clint couldn't have gotten any sadder than his usual state, but when the only person he considered a true friend dies... It's painful.

It's pain for Robin to construct a gravestone instead of useful buildings for farming. Sebastian, along with Abby and Sam shut themselves in his room in the basement, trying to hide from the pain that way. Vincent didn't understand at first why his parents sat sad, but Jas immediately realized why Aunt Marnie's eyes were red. She understood why Uncle Willy had taken off his hat as he saluted the dead farmer.

Everyone was at the funeral, mourning the young farmer. As dusk descended on the Valley, no one noticed several figures standing near the fresh grave. No one saw how Marlon placed their sword beside the grave, how Rasmodius made the flowers beside the grave grow, decorating it with a single movement of his hand. And how quietly Linus stood, whispering a farewell to the young soul who had not been afraid to go into danger to protect the people of Stardew Valley.

#I'm enjoying experimenting with a new writing format #i hope you like it Shiro #I'm so excited to write more #stardew valley #sdv #i actually got a little confused and trying to guess do toy mean only SDV townies or from the mods too #so i decided do only vanilla #i hope you don't mind #also yay another sad headcanon! #sdv community #sdv headcanons #damn i have inspiration right now and go full speed with writing #how the fuck inspiration even works?..

[sonicasura]

Here's another crack idea that popped into my head. Persona 5's Ren Amamiya/Joker being the biological son of Pizza Tower's Peppino Spaghetti.

Is it dumb? Yes. Is it absurdly stupid and insane? Yes. Do I regret this? FUCK NO. Let Joker be half crazy Italian with an even more nutty father who WILL pile drive god if he has to. Also his last name for this shall be Spaghetti, Amamiya being his middle, cause I ain't half assing things.

(Putting a link to Part 2 here and make sure people check the reblogs for this as I added an extra page!)

Peppino is the anxious father that does his best to raise his kid despite the various issues he has to face. Whether it be finding a decent school, make sure there's some money for a little rare treat, or keep Ren's awful mother from breaking shared custody rules. Do not trifle with this man.

Any rat/mouse/raccoon in the restaurant? Those are Ren's pets who eat the insects and scare off the bad customers. (Kid does lemonade stands to buy pet friendly soap alongside basic necessities.) Peppino doesn't question it since they make his son happy and take care of the pests.

Ren absolutely helped around the pizzeria whenever he could. First time Peppino cries is when his kid made his first pizza. The second being a 12 year old Ren getting him a well made chef's hat for a birthday present. (You can say our boy already has Rank 3 proficiency.)

All the Pizza Tower weirdness can be considered normal for Joker as he doesn't exactly come from the Personaverse. (I wholeheartedly believe in Ren being a sheer cryptid, even more after seeing this comic.) His mother just dumped him there during her turn and left Ren in that neighborhood where he comes across Shido. Yes, Peppino absolutely lost it when his precious little Spaghetti didn't come home that night.

He looked everywhere for Ren and the events of Pizza Tower only put a big fat Stop Sign to that for quite awhile. Meanwhile the younger Spaghetti didn't have a fun time adjusting until Persona 5 truly kicked off. He wasn't thrown in a rigged court trial.

Ren just knocked Shido's lights out then fucking outran the cops like his Pops would on a 3rd lap game wise. He finds Leblanc and camps out there for two months. Well until Sojiro barely manages to drag Ren inside as his sanity(heart) couldn't handle this strange homeless teen facing the harsh elements. The kid running like an insane Usain Bolt when startled didn't help too.

Ren is absolutely homesick thus his Persona get to hear it the most. (I'm aware of the sheer irony with a French Persona having an half Italian wielder.) Arséne is very curious to meet Ren's father at some point and cackled upon hearing his charge's antics.

The other Thieves have no clue about how bizarre their leader's origins is. Funnily enough, Haru wholeheartedly believes in Ren's stories despite even Morgana considering it a crazy tall tale. (She got rewarded with a video of an 8 year old Ren having a breakdancing contest against his dad while sentient pizza toppings cheered them on.) The guy doesn't blame his other friends and is instead waiting for the chance to blow their minds like the gremlin he is.

Well Ren can thank Royal's Third Semester cause guess who shows up for the true boss fight?! A wild Peppino at Mach 4 speed about to pile drive his kid's former councilor. Haru is the only person not gawking when Ren's dad drags the unconscious man out before FINALLY being able to hug his kid.

Joker gets an extra gift than just him and his friends being able to keep their Persona. He can now visit everyone with a simple press of his phone. Sojiro and Peppino absolutely butt heads in a mostly friendly father flavored rivalry. (Ren doesn't notice at first as he's too busy showing One Shot Kill Medjed to Gustavo.)

Peppino absolutely fainted when his son drops an entire suitcase with enough money to not only pay off the debt but to even refurbish the diner and still have cash leftover. Maximum money perks can make Mementos a good place to grind. Ren always converted a chunk of his spoils to the appropriate currency so he can help his dad.

Peppino's Pizzeria is a secondary hangout for the Phantom Thieves and absolutely gets subjected to Persona shenanigans. Game Night is for everyone despite the fact Carmen/Milady/Arséne tend to cheat at cards. Peppino takes it as an excuse to do it too.

The older Spaghetti does his best to support his son and his friends. Whether it be making pizza that grant great stat buffs, help in battle if Ren can find a Golden Pizza Cutter whenever traversing a dungeon or offer some simple advice. Peppino will continue to drop kick anyone who gets in the way of that.

And this anxiety driven beat shall play at maximum volume.

#sonicasura #back at my bullshit #now it's pizza flavored #persona #persona series #persona 5 #persona 5 royal #persona 5 scramble #persona 5 tactica #p5 #p5r #p5s #p5t #ren amamiya #persona joker #p5 joker #well #ren amamiya spaghetti for this #pizza tower #peppino spaghetti #pizza tower peppino #dad!peppino #peppino is ren's dad #crack #crack treated seriously #Youtube

[sutang-hoon]

Hey! I wanted to request Jake smut where his bf got acting role in series and they watched it together and Jake got jealous because his bf had to hold hands with other actor

Thank you have a nice day!

not so puppy-like — sim jaeyun x male!reader (m.)

PAIRING: sim jaeyun x male!reader (he/him)

SUMMARY: you invite your puppy-like boyfriend to watch the latest series you starred in, but jake wasn't so puppy-like once he sees you holding hands with a girl.

WARNINGS: dom top!jaeyun x sub bottom male!reader, unprotected sex, dry humping, riding, intense eye contact, intense make-out session

AUTHOR'S NOTE: taking just a little bit of inspiration from @flwrboi i hope you don't mind best friend 😁

the car is silent as you look out the window. the sun was setting, and the view was beautiful - the sky has colored a mixture of yellow, orange, and purple. you pull your phone out to take a picture of the sky. jake turns his head for a split second and admires the view with a wow.

you were heading home after going out to dinner with jaeyun. it's been a while since you two went on date, both busy with work combined with hectic schedules resulted in the two of you drifting apart. you were grateful you had spent this day with your loving puppy boyfriend, sim jaeyun. he's well-loved by everyone. good looks, a total sweetheart, good style - your parents were fond of him, even asking if you two would like two have dinner with them someday.

you remember the first day you met. you were still in college and a top student. a couple of weeks later, the new student, sim jaeyun, was second overall. you were suspicious of him at first, but you two grew closer as the semester went by. your relationship with the other boy blossomed into something more than just friendship. and now, it's been several months, and the two of you are happier than ever to be together, yeah you had some fights here and there, but nothing major.

you slide your phone into your pocket, looking out the window. it has gotten significantly darker, and the sun was almost nowhere to be found. you feel a hand creep up your thigh and it was jaeyun's. you shoot him a look, and the brown-haired boy looks keen, focusing on the road while his hand carefully traces shapes on your supple skin. you suck in a gasp when jake moves his hand upwards, still massaging the skin.

you absolutely loved this side of jake. you love when his puppy-like persona disappears at the drop of a hat and his true nature shows. sim jaeyun is notorius for being a shy but kind boy, but all of those changes when no one is looking. you both know that jake is always in charge, in charge of making you feel good. jake, on the other hand, loves being himself in front of you. he gives his all when it comes to making you feel good. he knows all your kinks, weaknesses, and weak spots, and takes advantage of this.

jake then rests his large hands on your thighs, he smirks, turning the car right, driving down the stretch of the road that leads to your place. you were shivering a little, his hands anchored on your thigh. you prayed in your head that you'd finally arrive at your place, you wanted more of his touch, but you still remembered that you had to watch the series you were in. it probably was going to be long, long until jaeyun touches you again.

"are we all set?" jake asks as you rush over to the couch with a large bowl of popcorn and a cup of soda. "yeah." you dim the lights before finally settling down on the couch, sitting next to jake.

you wore a large cream sweater, whose sleeves reached your fingertips, accompanied by a black pair of shorts. jake, on the other hand, wore a hoodie, a hat on his head followed by the hoodie's hood, draped on the hat. he had a black pair of pants on. you will admit, the hat was a nice touch. it was cozy in the living room - the lights were dimmed, the only light source being the huge flat screen tv. you had tons of blankets and pillows on your huge couch. it seemed that the constant trip to the mall paid off.

episode 1 out of 16. it was your typical k-drama series but of course, it was very jake of him to insist you watch the series with him. the episode drags on. you munch and drink away, there were moments of laughter and romantic excitement. there were moments where jake would cheer when you'd appear on screen, to which you slap him playfully, bashfully. there were moments where the two of your hands would touch, and jake would stare at you, then your hand.

and there were moments where jake would want to take you then and there.

oh shit. you remembered that you had to hold hands with your co-actress. your mind went back and forth, what would jake's reaction be? he knows it's all acting, right? you sat there, you were a silent and anxious mess. you knew that jake was the type to get jealous, especially when he sees you talking to a girl. you breathed and just braced yourself. fuck it. you were just acting after all, and you had no choice.

you look at jake, who seems to be enjoying the show. damn. he's gorgeous. you freeze when jake locks eyes with you - he smiles again, touching your cheek before turning to watch the drama again. "this drama is so cute!" fuck, he looks so happy too. you don't want to ruin his mood.

and then the scene shows up. you gulp, watching the scenes unfold before your eyes. you grabbed the girl's hand before running off, all happy and laughing. "jake- it's nothing. i swear. we were acting, and i just did what they told me to do." silence from jake. he wanted the scene to finish first.

jake turns to you, and you prepare yourself for the worst. "it's fine, actually." you were unsure whether you should celebrate or not. "but..." jake takes a hold of your hand, locking both your fingers in place. "can she hold your hands like this?" "wha-"

jake grabs your neck and smashes your lips together - you yelp, but eventually melt into the kiss. jake swipes your bottom lip with his tongue, and you allow him. you allow him to explore your mouth. jake moans, the salty taste of the popcorn and the sweet flavor of the soda mingling in his taste buds. you missed this. you missed making love with jake due to your jobs. you missed his touch, you missed him, you missed him, you missed him.

both of your hands were still molded together - jake's free hand was on your neck, and he groans, pushing the kiss deeper, kissing you like it was his last day. he releases his frustration and jealousy and pours it into the kiss. his handsome face frowns as he explores your mouth even further.

jake breaks the kiss. you two were breathless, staring into each other eyes. the drama continues playing in the background but since the two of you were so desperate for each other, you gave no fucks. "i missed you so much, baby." jake caresses your cheek with his right hand, and for a moment you find yourselves in love again.

"me too, you puppy." you two draw closer again. jake bites his lip "fuck, baby." you kiss each other deeply again, but this time, jake grabs you and places you on his lap, his hands immediately finding their way to your ass. you whine in jaeyun's mouth. you feel each other grow hard, and you could feel jake's hard dick pressing against your clothed ass.

you take each other clothes off as you kiss each other. jake keeps his cap on as you straddle him. you gasp on hold onto jake when his large fingers tease your hole, your dick pressing against his toned stomach. "are you ready, baby?" jake whispers in english. holy shit. you missed how he talked dirty to you in english, his australian accent makes his voice even deeper.

jake wastes no time in entering you, both of you moaning as he pushes into you. once jake is all the way inside, you hold each other, breathless. "fuck, i forgot how huge you are." jake laughs, taking his cap off to rake his hands through his brown locks - you find that simple action extremely attractive, especially with his naked body on display for you.

you start rocking your hips without warning, and jake throws his head back, resting his head on the couch. "fuck. i missed this, pretty boy." jake takes a hold of your hips, holding you down. you wrap your hands around him, one arm around his head, your hand gripping onto his hair while the other arm wraps around his shoulder, holding onto his left shoulder. you close your eyes, letting the raw pleasure take over your body and senses. jake feels the same, he feels drunk, dazed. his eyes were on the verge of closing, he wants you to do all the work instead.

you see stars as jake bucks his hips upward, the position granting jake an advantage to hit your prostate. you feel your hard tip rubbing against jake's stomach with every roll of your hips and buck of jake's. you two hold intense eye contact, with jake biting his bottom lip, god, it was hot. "you're not so puppy-like right now, you know that?" jake nods, too drunk with lust and need to even form a reply. he gives a slap to your ass, and you gasp.

"so fucking pretty, baby. love it when you're on top of me, i can see every inch of you." jake says in english again, and you whimper at his words dripping in lust. you were close, evident by the way you were just babbling and whining. you try your best to hold yourself back, not wanting to cum first. you wanted to cum together. you wanted it to be special.

"jake, i'm gonna cum..." jake shushes you, caressing the back of your head. "i'm close too baby." you hold each other in the heat of your moment. you start crying out when jake bucks his hips up to help you reach your sweet climax.

"fuck! -m gonna-" you hold onto jake for dear life as you cum - a "fuck!" and a high-pitched moan leaves jake's lips as he feels himself empty into you. you two were shaking, your hot bodies pressing against each other. "so fucking messy." jake looks down at his stomach and groans when he sees your cum smeared across the skin.

"god, i missed you so much, sim jaeyun." you stare into each other eyes again, not wanting to let go of each other. "i miss you too, my pretty boy. fuck our jobs for making us apart from each other." you laugh, running a hand through your hair.

"wanna finish the series? it's still on and i worked hard on it, you know." jake laughs, pulling you off of him. the two of you clean up, put on your clothes and continue the series. the two of you just basked in each other's presence. you loved your puppy-like boyfriend so much.

© sutang-hoon, all rights reserved.

#enhypen #enhypen x male reader #enhypen x male!reader #enhypen x amab reader #enhypen x amab!reader #enhypen x male reader smut #enhypen x male!reader smut #enhypen x amab reader smut #enhypen x amab!reader smut #sim jaeyun x male reader #sim jaeyun x male!reader #sim jaeyun x amab reader #sim jaeyun x amab!reader #sim jaeyun x male reader smut #sim jaeyun x male!reader smut #sim jaeyun x amab reader smut #sim jaeyun x amab!reader smut #sim jaeyun smut #jake smut #smut #kpop smut #enhypen smut #kpop x male reader #kpop x male!reader #kpop x male reader smut #kpop x male!reader smut

[thelampisaflashlight]

The ghouls, but I reveal how I actually headcanon them personality wise. Below the cut.

Aether: Plays at being timid/submissive, but uses it to provoke bigger/wilder responses, because he likes seeing people go absolutely bonkers when he flips the switch and goes ham himself.

He enjoys instigating things and then letting the other person take over, because it’s that much more entertaining when he starts taking control again.

It’s like a cat showing its belly.

You were never in control of the situation.

An absolute nightmare when paired up with Swiss during trips to bars, because neither of them are playing around with the macho meathead bullshit.

Dewdrop: Fairly subdued overall, but he’s easily stirred up/teased into doing some crazy ass shit.

Definitely loves chaos and all it brings, though he’s not opposed to the idea of softness and a quiet day to himself.

More of a “Just because I’m alone doesn’t mean I’m lonely.” type which often gets misread as him being aloof/cold for not always enjoying having company.

The friend who gives you a heartfelt pep talk, but calls you a little bitch (affectionate) at the end of it.

Side hug kinda guy.

Multi/Swiss: Buys fancy mixed drinks with his dinner and enjoys them without joking about it in that, “Aw, couldn’t they have given it to me in a different glass?” kind of way.

Not afraid to be vibrant and colorful in the way he acts or speaks, and encourages his friends to do the same and appreciate the good things in life without feeling a need to hide it.

Will make people argue in circles for hours if they try to give him a hard time.

“Yes, but if that were true, this-” 

He’s quite proud of it.

Rain: He’s a sweetheart, and genuinely quite sweet, but he will also do the weirdest shit knowing no one will believe it was him who did it. 

Never anything malicious though.

Unless you count biting.

Because I feel like Rain is the biter here, not any worse than Dewdrop, but he’s the type who waits until he sees an opening that will maximize reactions with minimal effort.

In short; “I would very much like to make you scream.”

Mountain: The guy who keeps you safe at a metal show by standing behind you the whole time like an ominous obelisk of a man. 

Resting bitch face to the max until he’s leaning down and asking if you’re gonna finish the rest of your donut and let’s out a slow, “Yoooo...” when you let him have it.

I cannot emphasize enough the slowness of the yo.

Would let you sleep in his bed... without him in it.

Teamed up with Rain, you are 1000% in for the weirdest adventures, and you’ll never be able to recreate the experience with anyone else.

Cumulus: An absolute sweetie, who could probably bench every member of the band with ease.

She’s the person who asks if she can try picking you up, and then proceeds to do so both emotionally and physically.

Lifts Cirrus all the time because she can.

Shows affection through hugs, kisses, and headbutts.

Mildly concussed?

Good.

Cirrus: Confident in who she is, and straightforward with how she thinks and feels, although she can often be a bit too blunt.

Joins Aether and Swiss in getting rude people to talk themselves into a corner in the best/worst way possible.

Has “You’re in her DMs, but I’m living in her head rent free.” energy and she knows it.

Sunshine: Gives off a playful and innocent air, but with an edge that indicates that that’s definitely not always the case.

Doesn’t play games when it comes to the safety of herself or her friends, and can go from joking around to deadly serious at the drop of a hat.

I don’t know why, but I can see her getting into a bar fight alongside the others if they saw someone being a dickhead, and would wear any bruises she gets from it as a badge of honor.

Has a solid punch, but you really have to look out for her legs, because she kicks like a horse and will knock your ass across the room.

#Lamp rambles #shitghosting #nameless ghouls #ghost band #ghost bc #the band ghost #ghost band headcanons #nameless ghoul headcanons

[ask-missparker]

These hands to let it go free and this love came back to me / OUAT FanFic AU ⚔️

Pairing: Charming!Nikolai & Snow!Amelia

Summary: What happens when your brother crashes your wedding with an unexpected gift that made you question your love and worth? A curse.

Characters mentioned : Ben Barnes as The Dark Prince, Liane, Cole, Ethan, Cassandra, Jeremy, Cherik and etc

Note: There was a time when the couple was on the run hiding from the royal forces, going as Nicholas & Amara

—-

The wedding bells were ringing in the heavenly lit castle with guests from all over cheering as the couple dressed in whites and browns smiled being newly announced as husband and wife.

Snow in her pure feather dress with red edges to give it an accent as Charming was dressed in browns and blacks, his captain hat styled with a deep green feather attached to the inside.

Just then, the doors banged open and in swung the dark prince of crime, a king of shadows you can say holding up a playful fireball as he giggled. The crowd gasped, some yelled and others knights raced in protection as the prince with a flick of his wrist threw the guards back then glared at the couple.

“How cute. Didn’t think of inviting your brother to the wedding?” Yelled the dark prince of crime.

Charming held his wife closed and pointed his sword as he spat, “Get out!”

“Relax, brother. I’m here to offer you a gift for your precious little wedding and you’ll like it.”

“I don’t want it! Get out, Alexander. Your not king anyone, only a mere prince.”

“Oh hush, you never let me finish. Here’s my gift, this whole day will be a peaceful one, I’ll even give you the week. But starting Sunday at the tip of midnight, I will destroy your happiness, if it’s the last thing I do.”

Charming ordered the guards to get up and lock the castle, as he threw shadow sword straight at his brother, in a cloud of smoke older man disappeared. But he left with a cut on his right arm as the shallow sword dropped.

———

Weeks—months past as Charming and Snow, also known as Nicholas and Amara when on the run, have gotten that news with their friends and found family. As they tried to all search for the prince, regroup and find a way to stop whatever cursed plan that is coming their way.

Nikolai was searching one night, stressing about it in the king’s office of their castle as he spoke with Marlene and Melissa about it. Princess Liane, sat down trying to figure out how it can play out.

His wife stole him for a moment, telling everyone else to rest as she stood in the castle’s kitchen making him a sandwich as he sat down listening to her words. He adored that she was always supportive and there to ease his emotions with a couple of smoothing words, even when he felt he had the entire weight of world on his shoulder.

She placed the sandwich on the table telling him to eat as she listened to his worries and rubbed his shoulders, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“My heart, you’re in need to sleep and regroup later. You’ve been practicing your sword fighting all week and if not, you’re scouting with Marlene..” She said with a sigh, “He’s just trying to get into your head.”

“He’s not. He once held me captive in his chambers underneath the castle because he thought I was a better sword man than him. Poison me with a stupid apple and gave you a sleeping a curse..” He replied taking a bite out of the sandwich humming.

“If he hasn’t inactive since the wedding, he won’t be now. He’s petty and narrating a path that will lead him to more hate towards you. He wants to get in your head and not feel worthy of your title.”

“Am i worthy of this?”

“You married a farm girl, who was thrust into a world of royalty. You showed me and others kindness despite all you faced, so yes. Your worthy. And our child will see that to be true.”

He pressed a hand to her belly and rubbed small circles at catch their little prince or princess attention. He whispered a few sweet nothings to her belly and smiled getting a small kick in return.

Then he thought of something and smirked, “Your child. I want to ensure their safety if it’s the last thing I do..and will have to ask Cassandra to do so.”

She gave him a confused look with slight fear, “I-is that asking of too much? What if she says something that isn’t true?”

“It will be. We can resting knowing they will be alright, protecting them from my brother and his dark plans will be worth it. She can see the future!”

“If she says I’m twins I’m gonna be freak out.”

With that he laughed and pressed a kiss to her cheek. He always planned on day having at least 3 children with her, especially knowing that she will be an amazing mother.

Within 48, Cassandra they arrived at the castle after guarding her flowers and spells to tell them all the truth behind the plans. Her eyes turned white and held up a finger with a odd look on her face.

She sat at the round table and spoke softly, “..The dark prince is casting a curse to spend us all to a land without magic, helpful dreams will never arrive. It will take over as much land as possible. He is teaming up with..the prince of mischief and Shaw to help with his spell.”

Those words caught Erik and Charles attention, as they sat the round table with their children Cole, Meira and Ethan. Erik grunted and looked at his husband who sighed already thinking of what can be done to protect their young.

Liane sighed looking at Ethan and then Nikolai, as she heard Cassandra speak softly what she can see. 3 villains all in one go, but the main one was Alexander who caused the grand curse as to destroy everyone at play. She wanted to protect her soon niece or nephew from all of this just as much as the parents did, hell she wanted to protect her found family along with herself. Alongside her crush, that was Ethan.

Cassandra opened her eyes as if her flashes were over as she said, “I didn’t see much but we all don’t survive this smoking dark curse. But we can save ourselves once it’s hit.”

Nikolai groaned pinching the bridge of his nose as he shared a look with Cole, and asked, “How? My child is a stake here, Cass! My brother will be..”

“Relax! We can send a few into the curse with knowledge of it all.”

“I’m not risking that. Erik come on, our friends likes are at stake and we only half will know.”

Erik sighed and grunted, “You think I like this? I don’t. But if we can go with Cassandra’s plan find a safe spot and do a few thing, it will work.”

Cole scoffed, “Yeah, sure dad, with what?”

“The Enchanted Forest is filled with trees of all kind, if we crave one with elements of magical escape, we can send all of that.”

Liane asked, “You can’t be serious. What? Are we gonna make a wardrobe out of a tree?”

“She’s onto something. Yes that can work! Melissa can help carve it.” Ethan added as Meira nodding knowing where to find such tree.

Cole and her disappeared in a cloud of smoke with Erik to go search for it with a second to spear. Amelia was quiet the entire meeting, rubbing her husband arm as she leaned into her chair. Liane noticed wondering what exactly she is thinking as she noticing her friend look at her husband with worry. Melissa share a look with the other girls.

“Mia relax. It’s gonna be fine..” Liane spoke, fixing her tiara with a smile, “I heard stress is bad for the baby.”

She sighed, “I have not given up hope..but who will go through the wardrobe is my worry..”

“Depends on the magic it can hold. My heard my father say it sometimes take up to 3 people or more..”

Nikolai looked down at his wife and kissed her cheek, “I got everything under control. And if we can’t find one, we will still find each other.”

“And your brother? Honey, you got bags under your eyes..we all do.” She asked with so much concern for him and their friends.

“If he shows up, I’ll let him know that he will have to wish he never enacted the curse in the first place.”

“Cole will try to kill him along with you…”

————

3 trees were found, as Melissa and Cole’s husband Jeremy carved it in the at the man’s workshop. Jeremy was a pirate first, builder second as he grinned.

The idea that wardrobe might protect memories and because children are most likely to believe in fairytales, they will remember once the reach the land. The adults might not remember every single thing, or so they think.

Rick, Roch and Luna planned on bringing their kids into one.

Bruce and Natasha suggest it would be for the best. Everyone single of them had their own plans and businesses to take care of that they kept a secret from each other.

Cole being the wiser one of the crew, knew if he didn’t make it into any wardrobe he would remember and know everything, by hearing the sound of any one of the kids names he will snap out of the trance and enact his murder to Alexander. He may not like Nikolai too much but Amelia was like a sister to him.

Beside that, Cole and Alexander had their own problems together in the past before he even knew that he was Nikolai’s older brother.

Suddenly the curse hit as cloud of smoke started to wash over the land as the crew started to fight for their lives, bringing any children to safety to the crafted wardrobes. At one of the castles, knights were coming as Erik was fighting them off with Ethan as he out of his own reasons, pushed his son into one of wardrobes closing it knocking him out cold.

Let’s just say Ethan arrived to the real world due to being knocked out cold without as many memories of his past near the woods of a city. It was rather fuzzy for him but he was fine, going on his merry way. Creating a bit of trouble that will come to bit in him the ass later on, in the future being a daughter named Belladonna.

The kids however arrived at the real world as well but somewhere else as the curse it them, waking up in their beds within a town. Where their parents there with them of course, but given cursed memories of not being fairytale characters.

———

Meanwhile in the Enchanted Forest, as the curse was slowly washing over the woods into the rest of the land, Amelia was panicking a bit more than she thought she would. Not as much as Nikolai, who was preparing himself for a possible war with Cole, if any arm came to anyone in the castle.

Amelia placed a hand over the belly, looking at the small bassinet nearby that was meant to their son. She looked over at her husband, not feeling like a princess but a little farm girl in worry as she said, “I’m ready to leave you..”

Nikolai placed his sword on the table and cupped her face, “You won’t be alone, my brother will pay for this.”

She sighed, “I know he will. But Cass and Cole predicted we will see everyone again on his 18 birthday..the closest thing is 16th. He will need his father.”

“And he will, tell him tales about me. How I slayed a dragon on my first try or how I became my time sailing a ship with Captain Hook.”

“You are so confident in this whole thing aren’t you?”

“I have courage and compassion, I learned that from you. Mainly, i have my wit, my charm and my powers..”

He about to say something else when he sensed a pressure in the air, then sudden his wife gripped his hand tightly muttering that they had bigger things to deal with it.

They were about to have a small surprise.

A few short moments later, Amelia was on the bed screaming in pain and cursing out how she can’t have the baby now. Nikolai held her hand trying to hush his wife’s worries, yelling for the doctor to do something.

The whole castle was abuzz with chaos. Liane fighting against the evil guards outside, Marlene flying about trying to give her wife time with any additional stuff to the wardrobe. Cole was on the rooftop of the castle with a murderous glare as Alexander and his curse reached closer than ever, trying any protective shield.

That was when Jeremy raced into the bedroom, with sword in hand telling Nikolai that the final wardrobe was ready, about to help get his friends to the nursery. Nikolai about to carry his wife and move her out to the wardrobe when the doctor told him to not take any chances, as their son was about to be born now.

Alexander reached to castle with his guards surrounding the place on the rooftop fighting Cole as Nikolai’s chuckled softly at his son being born and placed into his wife’s arms.

The curse is here, they basically failed. He was leaning towards the two pressing a gentle hand on his head hushing his cries as Amelia smiled with tears in her eyes humming a tone.

He was so small yet so beautiful, wiggling and whispering a little as his cries calmed down.

“Hey Joshua..our little love..” Amelia whispered smiling.

Nikolai used the back of his finger rubbing his child’s cheek and smiled, “..welcome to world, you couldn’t wait a few more hours could you sweetheart?”

“We failed..that’s okay..”

“But at least we’re together.”

Amelia paused for a moment and sighed wishing her husband’s strong wit and clever beliefs didn’t rub off on her but it did. She looked at him and said, “Go fight your brother..”

“What?” Nikolai said, holding his son in arms now fixing his baby blanket to keep him warm.

“..take him to the wardrobe with Jeremy and go help Cole..”

“No. Darling, no I can’t leave you like this right now. And not our son!“

“You said it yourself! We need to have courage and believe we will be okay, he will come back to us. It’s a risk, I know…”

“But we have to take it. We have to give him his best chance no matter what it takes. I hate it when I’m right.”

She pressed a kiss to her son’s forehead, telling Joshua to be a trooper for his daddy as Nikolai smiled softly hearing her, kissed his wife quickly grabbing his sword and rushed out. He joined Jeremy in the hallway who was fighting his brother’s knights and raced down the hall, defeating them to fight more keeping Joshua relaxed in his arms.

Jeremy lead the way to the nursery, as he rushed off to kill some guards that were coming to Amelia’s room to find Melissa trying to wake their friend up but she was knocked out cold.

Nikolai raced into the nursery, stabbing a knight and dropped his sword to create a shadow to knock a few other guardsmen out cold, hell he made sure they were dead.

With a flick of his wrist, he flung open the wardrobe’s doors and placed his son inside safety pressing a kiss to his forehead telling him to have courage and find them soon as he closed the doors.

Just as he did, in a cloud of green and black smoke appeared Alexander and Cole neck and neck trying to kill one another. Nikolai stood up with a shadowy smile and glared blasting his brother to a wall, as Cole pinned the man to the wall shouting at him.

Two verse one, as the 3 of them fought and as the smoking clouds from the curse becoming a storm, that rip off the top of the ceiling as Nikolai gasped pinning his brother to the ground holding up a shadow in his a hand.

Cole was behind him, trying to block the storm and yelled, “Where are we going?”

“Somewhere horrible.” Alexander said smiling with a glare.

“No shit dipshit.”

“In a few moments you won’t remember you were fighting me.”

“Very specific.”

Nikolai with a last minute stitch to leave a mark, pulling his sword in front of him and cut his brother in the same place he did months ago during his wedding day. A way for his brother to remember, that matter what happens he will never fully destroy his spirt. Alexander shouted in pain and pushed his brother away, causing him to storm back then attack Cole with a blast.

That was when cloudy spoke louder, engulfed the whole castle sending everyone to a town called Fighter-town, Maine.

Thanks for reading! What did you think of it? Yes I was watching season 1 OUAT pilot shhh 🤫

Fun fact! 🖋 Josh Dallas who plays Prince Charming in Once Upon A Time, played Fandral in Thor (2011)

Tags: @missstrawbs2001 @purpleprincessonfyre @meiramel @gcthvile @rickb-chaos @gaminggirlsstuff @wizzzardofoz @mallowbee4 @thechoooooosenone @luna-d-marsh @rooster-84 @thecavalrywife and etc

#ouat au #ouat fanfiction #ouat rewatch #marvel oc #aos fanfic #crossover fanfiction #marvel blurb #marvel original character #marvel x oc #danielle campbell #nikmia #shipping #x men oc #ouat fandom #snow white #prince charming #snowing #thomas doherty #taylor swift references

[s-brant]

Papillon

While preparing themselves for the dangerous job ahead of them, Y/N moves into Harry’s apartment to remain under his protection. They are soon forced to convince everyone in their lives that they hate each other to keep Leo’s suspicion off of them as they grow closer. (or hitman!h part five)

17k (18+)

Warnings: smut, penetrative sex, daddy kink, soft dom/sub dynamics, dry-humping, public sex, strong language, referenced murder/death, referenced violence, substance use, and toxic relationship dynamics.

-

On the car ride over to the safe house the next morning, Harry laid down a few ground rules about how they'll have to conduct themselves to act as inconspicuous as possible about the new job they've been given, as well as their undefined sexual relationship.

"Y'have to stay with me until it's over," he said. And before she could open her mouth to tell him no, he held a hand up as if to tell her to keep quiet. "Listen, if we're doing this, we're doing it my way. I know Leo, I've known him since I was a teenager, and I know that I need you close to keep you safe from him. We can't spend any time apart."

What else was she supposed to do? Say no? Not when their potential escape from Leo depended on this future job going smoothly. Did she want to live with Harry? No, especially not with how they're prone to fighting and fucking like uncivilized beasts at the drop of a hat, and she still hadn't fully forgiven his treachery from that night at Leo's house yet.

Naturally, none of this could be spoken of outside of the four walls of his penthouse apartment. He made sure to check later for any recording devices or cameras that may have been planted by either Leo or Garrett, though he didn't know how they could've gotten inside, and gave her a strict story to stick to.

As they approached the safe house on foot, his Escalade parked around the corner, he said to her, "If anyone presses for information, tell them the original story. The one Leo thinks is true—that Perez sent his men after him in revenge f'me attacking Tate, and I had to kill the one that got away. That's it. If they keep asking more questions, stick to that. Keep saying it until it becomes the truth."

If this plan were to succeed, they would need to be perfect. She would need to be perfect in playing the part of the trapped damsel, forced to work alongside a monster she hates and who hates her in return.

That was another thing.

"When we're around everyone, Leo in particular, don't talk to me unless y'have to. Don't touch me, don't look at me too long—just don't let anyone suspect it." He paused, then went on, "Or since everyone already thinks we fucked, make it look like it was a one-time thing that ended badly. They already think I'm a piece of shit anyway, so let them think I used you. Y'have to hate me."

Y/N spun around to halt his swift walking pace and crossed her arms over his chest as she looked up at him. The morning sun warmed her battered face and haloed his head from behind, nature crowning him one of its angels—a dim shadow wreathed in golden light. His wording caught her interest, and it took every morsel of control she had not to call him on it.

Just don't let anyone suspect it.

It. What is it, then? They haven't fucked since the day Leo had her beaten on his behalf, a fact she's unfortunately reminded of every other moment due to the simmering sexual tension that never dissipates between them, and she didn't consider their relationship outside of sex to be more than friendly. So, what were they? What was it? If it was her as both the hitman's Achilles heel and his plaything, then so be it. She was beyond pretending to care about whatever title their relationship held after the news they received from "Perez".

Checking twice to ensure no one watched them, she asked, batting her lashes dramatically, "You mean I can't follow you around like a little puppy and beg you to date me in front of all our friends?" Her hands pressed into the center of her chest as she let out a forced sigh, staring at him. "You know that's my favorite pastime. How will I survive?"

As amusing as he found her teasing him to be, he kept his face blank and stared at her right back. The dominance in that stare, as well as the words that followed, sparked a rush of pleasure to life between her thighs that she missed in their time apart.

"Behave," was all he said, and some deep, primal part of her had no choice but to obey.

And, so, the dance began again—of him possessing her, body and soul, and her having to pretend as if that connection didn't exist whenever they found themselves in the company of others. In all fairness, it pained him as much as it did her when they met with the boys that morning after breakfast. To stand there and not be allowed to dote on her, to be her shadow with a hand resting on the gun strapped to his hip should anyone make a move against her, was torture whether she was aware or not.

They both followed the rules.

Niall, Liam, and Louis were easy. All they needed to do was stick to their agreed-upon story and not budge when additional pressure was added. There were endless questions about what happened at the club mere days prior to them all reuniting, and they answered with honesty in regard to that. Harry took responsibility for his part in it and left her blameless, saying it was an act of treason for Tate to try to hurt one of their own. Then, of course, there was the matter of what happened after. Of Tate belonging to Perez, Leo punishing them, and Harry being sent after the remaining attackers.

Zayn, however, was a whole different story.

The entire time they spent at the safe house, forcing themselves to indulge in their questions and wait around for Louis to pay them, he eyed the pair in suspicion. It occurred to him as they exchanged glares from across the room and refused to speak more than a few words to one another that the way they were acting was different from what he saw at her place. She'd been angry with him, but not like this. And, he'd never expect to see Harry ignore her. In a room full of people, Harry's eyes would never stray from her.

He hardly looked at her that day.

She already knew he had a talent for masking his emotions, but what he did at the safe house was nothing short of a winning performance. It brought her mind back to how he acted after they left Leo's house, the show he put on to distance her from him under the guise of keeping her safe, and she had to keep reminding herself that it was an act.

They didn't give Zayn the chance to pull either of them aside afterward. First, Y/N left as soon as she got the money from Louis, not offering more than a quick, "Goodbye," before sauntering out of the front door with her sunglasses, gifted to her by Harry, in place to conceal her black eye.

That was another thing. The gifts.

The gloves and sunglasses were for specific reasons. The gloves were for their job, something he was getting on her for not buying in favor of hastily wiping down the steering wheel, and the sunglasses were tossed to her before they got out of the car that morning to cover her eye. They could've been his, or an ex-girlfriend's, but he didn't offer an explanation other than telling her to keep them.

In the week following, however, the little gifts he left behind for her at his place while he was busy doing whatever he does in his free time were for no good reason.

Perhaps they were apologies—one for every offense he's made against her. If so, one for every day of the week isn't going to come close to everything he's said or done to her. Every day, whether it be morning, midday, or nighttime, she'd come out to find a box sitting on the coffee table beside the pile of folded blankets and pillows sitting on the couch he made up for himself every night. She ended up taking his room upon his insistence, though it took a solid hour of bickering on the way back from the safe house for him to wear her down.

The gifts were anything from a dainty gold necklace to lingerie. The latter of the two is the one she found seconds ago. It was left for her on her bed this time, a warning sign she didn't care to notice until she was lifting the top to the box to find a matching set of lace undergarments with a handwritten note on top of it. Scrawled in his handwriting, it read—

So I won't have to tear them off of you this time. H.

Y/N reaches down to pick up the thin material of the panties, running it between her fingers in quiet appreciation of its quality. A glance at the name printed on the box confirms her suspicions. Undergarments cost a ridiculous sum at a well-priced store in the first place, but buying them from the store he had must have cost him a small fortune.

They're a shade deep enough to match her blood-red nails, a detail she knows he caught onto and matched the lingerie to on purpose, and it's wholly transparent. Everything would be exposed to anyone who saw her in it. Even the cups of the bra are flimsy panels of lace with no true support short of the underwire and shoulder straps. The underwear is the true star of the show. Being the self-indulgent prick he is, it shouldn't surprise her that Harry picked a pair of crotchless panties to replace the ones he destroyed the first time they slept together.

A soft chuckle escapes her.

That's what the note meant, then.

On her personal phone, the one she bought weeks ago to replace her original one, she snaps a picture of her new undergarments to send alongside a text message to him.

Y/N In your dreams.

Harry peeks down at the notification the second it pops up, and it makes his lips curl upwards in a smirk. It's so easy to rile her, isn't it?

Harry I wasn't dreaming last week.

Y/N And that was a one-time lapse in judgment I'll be sure not to make again.

Harry *Three-time

She scoffs.

Y/N Don't make me pull a knife on you like I did last week.

The three dots indicating he's typing appear immediately, then disappear a few seconds later as though he's hesitating in his response. She's ready to click off her phone screen and shove the lingerie into the drawers in the dresser he gave up to her when her phone pings with a notification.

Harry Don't threaten me with a good time.

A minute later, she sends back a middle finger emoji and he must stifle a laugh in the presence of the others around him waiting in line to order their midday coffee.

For the rest of the day after their back and forth about the lingerie, Y/N takes it upon herself to pick up a few things from her apartment to bring over to Harry's place that she initially forgot to pack. The items of most importance and urgency are the framed photos of her family, her baking tools, and, ironically enough, the rest of the undergarments in her dresser. At first, she swore to herself that all she would bring were her toothbrush and a few day's worth of clothes at a time rather than fully moving into his place.

That lasted about five days before she finally admitted to herself that she would tire of running back and forth between the two apartments and decided to get the rest of her stuff. Half of the dresser and closet are hers, as per their agreement, and by the afternoon, both are filled with the rest of her clothes.

She folds up the last pair of pants she has, sets them down in the drawer, and falls back onto his bed with a heavy sigh. The plush comforter deflates under her body weight, soft on her skin as she shifts onto her side and nudges her cheek against it.

For a moment, she lies there in silence.

It's strange being in his bedroom. All alone without the excuse of being brought there for refuge after being drugged or to have sex somewhere other than a car park, she looks around from her spot on the mattress with a tender smile playing at her lips. Though she fought with him over his wish for her to take his room, she can't deny the comfort found in it. The floor-to-ceiling windows leave the space wide open for her, allowing a small bit of moonlight in at night and a generous view of sunset in the afternoon, and she doesn't feel trapped here as she has in her own bedroom. The walls don't close in on her the way they do at her own place, and, for that, she's thankful.

She's about to crawl beneath the covers for a nap when the sound of her burner phone buzzing on the bedside table has her head snapping up in surprise.

They haven't been called to do anyone's bidding yet, whether it be Leo's or Garrett's, since last week. After all the time that has passed, it's something she should've expected, but she was thrown off by what has happened in the meantime—staying at Harry's place, sending meaningless flirtations to each other by text to fill the yawning void inside of her, and looking forward to his daily gifts. None of those pleasantries could ever keep the devil at bay, though. Not for long.

Her approach is slow and careful, like a predator stalking down its prey, as she slides her legs off the side of the bed and reaches for the flip phone. It rings twice more in her hand before she picks up the call and brings it to her ear.

"Meet me in the building's parking garage."

The line goes dead.

-

The parking garage is deserted at this time of night.

Being the pest he is, Harry didn't specify which level of the parking garage to meet him at, so she's been scaling the staircase for the better part of five minutes, peeking her head inside each level to listen for any signs of life. By the time she finds the roof level of the car park, her entire body is strained from it, and she has to take a second to breathe before she walks through the door.

There's a chill in the air. It's something to be expected with it being the second week of November, but she forgot to throw a hoodie on over her long sleeve shirt, and the skirt she wears doesn't do much to protect her from the breeze either.

Her arms cross over her chest as she walks out into the mostly empty top floor of the garage and scans the area in search of her hitman. A few street lamps placed on the perimeter of the parking lot illuminate her path, but she's left mostly in the dark. It takes her an embarrassing amount of time to spot the shadowy figure leaning against the farthest wall of the parking level.

The closer she gets, the better her view of him becomes.

Harry stands with one elbow resting back on the top of the concrete wall to stabilize himself while the other hand is raised to bring a joint to his lips.

It's almost burned down to the end, and she realizes that the smell no longer annoys her as she comes to a stop and leans against the wall beside him. If anything, she enjoys the way it clings to his clothes. The shirt of his she inadvertently stole the day she stayed over at his apartment smells of a mixture of weed, his cologne, and his own personal scent. She would never admit it to him, but she wears it to sleep every night. Once the door to his room is shut and he's gotten all he needs from inside before he retires to the couch for the night, she slips it on over her pajama tank and allows the familiar scent of him to sing her to sleep.

There's no mask covering his face as there always is when they meet up for a hit. The gloves are never missing from his ensemble of clothing, of course, but the lack of a mask causes her brows to furrow.

"Why don't you have your mask on?"

With that, he puts out the lit end of the joint and tosses it over the edge of the roof.

"Cause, we aren't working tonight," he says, then cuts her one of his commanding stares. The type that tells her to follow along without him having to open his mouth to say the words.

And, of course, she is right behind him without question, eager as ever to follow in his footsteps until he leads her off the edge of a cliff. The wind blows around the hem of her skirt and threatens to expose her to the empty rooftop, so she spends the better part of the walk awkwardly petting the fabric down against her thighs.

"What are we doing, then?" she asks.

The question is promptly answered when they come to a stop in front of a parked car. Not just any parked car, either. Sitting in front of her, in all of its legend and glory, is his original 427 Shelby Cobra. It's still the most beautiful car she's ever seen. Painted with its original coloring, it robs her of her breath to see it sitting so close, knowing that it isn't a client at the Auto Shop's but rather Harry's car.

Breaking the silence, she says, "I will literally give you a lifetime supply of blowjobs if you let me drive that."

He cocks a brow at her.

"Is that all upfront or, like, once per week, 'cause I feel like that'd be kind of hard on your jaw?"

She doesn't even dignify that with a response. Instead, she crosses her arms over her chest and turns to him, staring with the same commanding expression he throws her way when he wants her to do something. Although, when she does it, she has all the intimidation of a disgruntled puppy. They remain this way for what feels like a while before he finally bends to the will of her silent demands.

"S'kinda cute when you try to act scary," he says with a coy smile. "Y'look like an angry little puppy."

A pause, then—

"I take back the blowjob thing. I'll just kill you and steal the keys instead."

His loud, cackling laugh fills the entire space of the parking level, and it takes a lot for her to not smile as an instinctive response to hearing it. For a person who has been entrenched in perpetual darkness for the past ten years, the lightness found in his laugh and smile has been a pleasant surprise. She'd never guess that a person with a laugh that infectious would be a cold-blooded murderer for hire. It calls to mind many questions she never thought to consider before. Questions surrounding how he grew up and his parents. Last week, he mentioned his mother twice. First, when she asked about the Bible in his bedside table. Second, when he was calming her from her panic and swore on his mother never to let anyone hurt her.

The way he said it implied death from her perspective. If so, when did he lose her? Was she all he had growing up, or was his father in the picture? Did he have siblings? She doesn't make the mistake of asking any of these and ruining their night before it has begun, however. It's clear that he's trying now. He apologized to her for what he said, something she never thought he'd do, and has made an effort to be nicer. For that, she must give him some grace. He'll talk about it when he's ready, if he ever is.

When she makes a quick move to snatch the keys from his hand amidst the distraction of his laughter, he dodges with ease. Her other hand shoots out to reach for where he pulled his away, but he simply lifts his arm as far as he can over his head to dangle them just out of her reach.

Harry says, his dimples appearing as he smirks at her, "Take 'em from me."

"What do I get if I do?"

"To drive the car, obviously," he instantly counters with, "...and a sexual favor if y'really want some incentive."

To this, she smiles back at him with mischief lighting up her eyes and steps up closer until her chest is touching his. With every rise and fall of their breaths, he feels her breasts pushing up against him, and, suddenly, he is hyper-aware of every place they connect. Particularly the places farther south where they connect...

Her head tilts to the side, their lips a few inches away as she asks, feigning innocence, "Just a favor?"

Their mouths brush in a tentative kiss under her insistence, once, twice, three times without his participation, until he starts to lean into it and truly kiss her back. Her lips taste like the berry-flavored lip gloss she constantly applies and reapplies, and he hums in approval of it as he reaches with one free hand to cup the back of her neck in a possessive grasp. It's the first time they've done anything together since the day they fought. Both of them are left yearning for more the second they get a taste of one another. She kisses him with a pang of desperate hunger and he returns the favor tenfold, head dipping to hers as if her every sweet, sighing exhale were the breath of life.

Y/N's hand slips down the length of his torso until it's wedged between their hips, rubbing at his cock through his pants. The sudden contact earns a muted groan from him, and she decides right at this moment that she'd do anything it took to hear him make that lovely noise again. It's music to her ears.

Another moment of breathlessness and heady desire passes, and she's whispering into his parted lips, "Fuck me." There's a whining quality to it that makes his knees go weak and his cock harden. "It's been too long." The last thing she says is what hammers the nail in his coffin. "Please, daddy..."

The hand placed on the back of her neck squeezes with an inexorable grip in reaction to her calling him that. It never fails to get him to do whatever she wants, does it? This woman has him wrapped around her finger, and he isn't sure if he ever wants to be set free.

Harry loses whatever remaining scraps he had left of his composure and starts to walk her toward the edge of the roof in pursuit of the short wall bordering it. The arm he had lifted over his head is now snaked around her waist to keep her body flush against his, and he feels her smiling into the kiss. Just before he pushes her back against the wall, she spins them around and traps him there instead, her hands sliding up and down his arms in a gentle touch, as if soothing a wild animal prone to lashing out at any moment. He isn't fond of being the one who's out of control, but, for her, he allows it.

She was right, it has been too long, and he already knows it'll be over too soon if she keeps rutting her hips against him like that. He unwinds his arms from around her hips and reaches back to place the forgotten car keys on the ledge, readying himself to slip his hands up her skirt and—

Before he can act on his urges, she disappears.

His eyes snap open, and there she is, retreating as quickly as she can with the keys to the Cobra dangling on the key ring hung on her pointer finger.

"You're so easy, you know that?" she asks with a teasing smirk thrown over her shoulder at him. Then, she waves an arm in the direction of the car, ignoring the obvious tent in his pants caused by her scheming. "C'mon."

-

The Cobra is everything she dreamt it would be.

Her dad once drove one as a birthday gift from a friend of his in the industry, but she never did anything but watch. On the sidelines, she dreamt of the day she could drive one, a day she assumed would never come, but here it is.

In the ten minutes it took for her to follow his directions to the mystery location he planned for them to go to, she thinks she was the happiest she's been since before her dad died. It brought her closer to him, in a way. Holding the same steering wheel he once held, hearing the gorgeous engine roaring like a great beast, feeling the wind whooshing through her hair—it was nothing short of magic.

The whole time, Harry watched her with a smile fighting its way to show on his face. Her little manipulation at the parking garage was something he tucked away for later, making a note to get her back for it another time. For the moment, he took pleasure in watching her in her element. The image of her grinning behind the wheel with the wind whipping her hair back from her face at a speed that far exceeded the limit set for the road was breathtaking. There was a certain discomfort to it due to this. He shifted in his seat, unsure what to make of the feeling stirring in the pit of his stomach, and it didn't go away until she followed his instructions to drive into the private raceway.

With the car put in park, she leans her head back on the seat and takes a deep breath to steady herself.

Harry sits with his arm propped on the passenger's side door, and the smile that's been begging to show on his face finally makes its appearance as he asks, "What's the verdict?"

Her head rolls to the side to meet his gaze. There's a hazy bliss visible on her face, not unlike the expression he's witnessed it wear as she comes down from the peak of an orgasm, and her lips curl up from her teeth in a smile to match his.

"You are my favorite person on earth right now. I'm so serious," she says. "How the fuck did you get your hands on this lovely creature"—her hand caresses the steering wheel affectionately as those two words are said—"in the first place?"

His previously sweet smile turns downright devious at this as he recalls the day, years ago, when he came across it.

"Well," he starts, and she already knows she's in for a treat based on the way he utters the word, "The debt with Leo isn't about money, even if he makes it seem like that. You're just doing jobs for him until he decides you're out. When I found this out, I was pissed. I knew he'd never let me have m'freedom back, so I got drunk." The smile widens for a second as if he cannot control himself. "And, back then, Leo trusted me enough to give me access to his funds..."

At the direction she thinks the story is about to take, pride flares up inside of her on his behalf. On behalf of the younger, wilder version of him that had yet to be fully broken by Leo's torment. There's a part of her that wishes that were the Harry she first met. Then, she's reminded of the good parts of him, however small they may be, that still exist today and cannot imagine wanting him to be different. She cannot imagine wanting another man to cut her pancakes for her, protect her, and argue with her.

The car is parked just beyond the automatic gates to the raceway. Neither of them makes a move to get out or continue driving, they stay locked into this moment.

"There's a reason Louis handles his finances. Back then, it was me. He actually trusted me to an extent until I emptied one of his accounts buying this. He was angry, for sure, but he was mostly just shocked and sort of impressed," he explains. "I thought he'd kill me for it. If m'being honest, that's why I did it. I wanted him to after I realized he could keep me trapped forever, but...I think he knew that. And that's why he let me keep it and get away with nothing more than a beating, so it could always be a reminder that he couldn't be outsmarted."

That wave of pride that rose up within her recedes the second he tells her the true reasoning behind it. What she thought was an act of defiance was actually an act of attempted suicide, and she doesn't know what to make of the ache this knowledge blossoms in her heart. Rather than show this concern, knowing it'd make him uncomfortable, she opts to ask him another question.

"Did he make you think the debt was about money?"

There's a flickering darkness settling over his face at this. The mere thought of the memories he has to recall to answer her must bring him pain, if she had to guess. Knowing his typical response when confronted with prying questions, she prepares for him to shut her out. She readies herself for him to tell her to mind her business, to stop acting like she's important enough to be entitled to the details of his past, but he says no such thing.

He worries his lip between his teeth for a second before saying, his voice low, "I was stupid and young. Long story short, I needed money I didn't have working at the bakery I had a job at, and Leo was a regular. He asked me how I was doing, so I was honest. He didn't seem like a bad guy, and he offered to help." There's a split-second where their eyes meet, and he immediately drops her gaze. "We were friends, I guess. He knew everything I went through with my dad and used it to get me to trust him."

Her stomach churns at the thought of such a young man being lured into one of Leo's elaborate traps.

"He lent me the money and said I had six months to pay it back. Obviously, I didn't have it, and he told me I could work for him to pay it off," he explains. "But it wasn't the money he wanted, it was me, and once I realized that it was too late."

She tries her best to keep her face as neutral as possible so as to not cause him any discomfort. Though he's shown great progress in opening his heart to her and not treating her with disrespect since they talked in her kitchen, she doesn't want to risk pushing him too far. It's much easier to reign him in from his intense reactions before they occur rather than after. If she avoids the triggers, sooner or later, they'll have to lessen, right?

Y/N, much to his surprise, offers him a grin.

"In that case, I'm glad we're gonna take that son of a bitch out together."

Anyone else would have taken the chance to coddle him. He remembers it well from the few times he tried to open up to the people he was sleeping with when it all began. Their eyes would go wide and flood with sympathy, and they'd scoot closer and try to touch him, offering softly spoken apologies he didn't want. But she doesn't. She has never coddled him, and as he looks at her now, he thinks she might be his favorite person in the world. If only for the duration of this moment.

Before he can say anything, she asks, "So, what are we here for? Just fun?"

Her question breaks him out of his trance, forcing him to confront reality again, and he turns his head to look out at the race track as if in answer.

"Garrett and I met up yesterday."

The silence that follows almost begins to ring in her ears. So, that's what he's been up to this week when he was out of the apartment. It probably took days to arrange a safe meeting spot outside of the prying eyes of Leo's spies, and it would also explain his strange behavior yesterday. He came home and, rather than poking his head inside the bedroom and telling her he was back, spent the rest of the night on his computer with a pair of headphones over his ears.

He says, "He told me to teach you to ride a motorcycle. You'll need to drive one with me on the back of it for the hit we're doing for him. Said a car won't be quick enough, you'll need to ride between lanes to get away fast enough. Even then, it'll be close."

"You know how to ride a motorcycle?"

A scoff leaves him at this.

"Y'really thought I didn't?" he asks.

When imagining the types of men who do and don't know how to ride motorcycles, she must admit, he appears on the side of one who does. With his tatted-up body, intimidating stare, and talent for murder, it only makes sense.

She shrugs.

"Fair point."

The car is parked on the side of the road leading up to the racetrack. Although he muttered to her as she put it in park that no one else would be here tonight, she felt the need to leave the path free just in case someone miraculously appeared. Their phones are both left behind on their respective seats as they shut the car doors behind them and continue along the paved pathway to the track. The back of their gloved hands brush as their arms swing between them, and, taking a bold chance, Y/N reaches her pointer and middle finger out and hooks them around his pinky. Not quite hand-holding, but not nothing.

He doesn't object, although, based on the way his shoulders stiffen up, he's tolerating it for her sake, not enjoying it. That small factor matters little to her, however. His acceptance of this small intimacy puts added confidence in her step. Ahead, she sees two identical bikes parked side by side on the straightaway of the track.

As they approach them, she drops his hand to run hers along the seat of the one closest to her.

"Holy shit," she says without turning her head to look at him. "These are gorgeous."

He walks around the side of the bike she's inspecting and smiles at her excitement while he thinks she isn't looking. Out of her peripheral vision, she picks up on it.

"They're the fastest street-legal bikes y'can buy. Garrett had these dropped off for us here. After we're done, some of his guys will come to take them back until we need to use 'em again."

Her focus lifts from the masterfully crafted vehicle to see him, and she thinks she could spend an eternity getting lost in those pale green eyes. Especially when they no longer look at her with constant disdain and annoyance.

"Are you sure it's safe to talk about this out here? What if Leo has people watching us after last week?" she asks.

One of his hands reaches into the pocket of his hands and pulls out a single key, which she assumes is for the bike, to slip into the ignition without turning over the engine yet. His face is wholly calm, and not hidden behind one of his many masks. It tells her the answer to her question before he can open his mouth to speak it aloud.

"Garrett has more reach than Leo does alone. He can afford to pay off the staff here," he explains, then continues on softly, "Leo likes to think he sees everything, but he doesn't. He sees a lot, but not everything. He didn't know we were fucking until last week. If he were watching us as closely as he wants us to think he is, he would've checked the security cameras from the parking garage."

"There were cameras?"

All he does is scoff in offense.

"Settle down. I went in and erased the footage the next day. Nobody really watches it closely unless there's an incident and they need to investigate. The club's watched much more closely than the garage." After a pause, he teases her, "I don't share, sweetheart. I'd sooner gouge his eyes out than let him see y'like that."

She teases him right back.

"I may have been rolling but I do remember you acting like a caveman when you noticed Tate talking to me."

"Enough," he says, only half serious as he uses her obedience to him to his advantage, "get on the bike."

For the second time tonight, he watches her eyes light up with mischief, and she shoots him a smirk as she swings her leg over the side of the bike and says quietly, "Yes, daddy."

Opting to ignore that jab, he remains quiet to not give her the reaction she seeks and forces himself to remain focused on what they're here to do. Never mind the fact that he can only think about what happened back at his building's parking garage and the fact that her short skirt is riding up her thighs as she settles into place astride the bike. The same skirt she wore the first time they worked together when he bent her over the hood of the car and promised to fuck the attitude out of her.

Later, he thinks to himself.

The downright filthy turn his thoughts have begun to take would typically prompt him to initiate sex immediately, but, unfortunately for him, he must teach her to ride a motorcycle in less than three months. And that's at most. Garrett told him it could have to happen sooner should any unforeseen obstacles, such as anyone ratting them out ahead of time, make themselves known.

Wordlessly, he reaches for the helmet sitting on the seat of the other bike and walks up closer to where she's sitting to place it over her head. She doesn't bother protesting, both because she knows very well the importance of helmets after what happened to her father and because he'd never let her start the vehicle without it on.

"Put the kickstand up and start it up," he commands, reaching out to turn the ignition for her while she gets to work doing as he says.

She simply looks at him with wide, pleading eyes that beg him to instruct her further.

"Pull down the clutch and press that button under the kill switch."

The engine roars to life and overpowers the sound of their voices as she begins to get feel for it, standing the bike up with her feet firmly on the ground on either side. After she's gotten her bearings, she looks over her shoulder at him once again with those puppy eyes again.

"How do I do this?" she asks.

Harry comes up as close to her as he can get without hopping onto the backseat of the bike and leans down over her shoulder, reaching with both hands to settle on top of hers. The leather of their gloves glides together with ease as he wraps his fingers over where hers are pulling back the clutch. His exhales cloud against the side of her next with a heat that takes her back to the less innocent moments they've spent together like this; with him pressed up against her back and his breath hitting her neck. The pressure of the seat against her clit draws a sharp breath from her.

"Start letting go of the clutch." His deep voice murmuring in her ear sends shivers skittering down her spine. With her gradual release of the clutch, the bike begins to roll forward at a slow rate. "When I let y'go, pull on the throttle to keep it from stalling and start to accelerate. Pull your feet up and ride in a straight line until you get to the end of the straightaway. Y'have to start with the front brake over here"—his right hand guides hers to the front hand break—"before y'use the rear brake to stop. Okay?"

With that, he pulls away from her and takes a few steps back until he's nearly leaning against the other bike, his arms crossing over his chest in preparation to analyze her every decision and minute movement. But, she doesn't start to ride right away. Instead, she stops the bike and looks at him one last time before speaking.

"I was just fucking with you."

The bike takes off with such speed, he almost stumbles back over the second bike in surprise.

It's hard to do so much as blink as he watches her fly around the track, turning around the bend of the track and guiding the bike with a practiced mastery only someone who's been riding for years can have. Of all the things she's done to turn him on tonight, this is what gets under his skin the most. There's nothing hotter than a woman who can ride, is there? He used to have those corny pin-up posters of women on motorcycles hidden between the pages of his books as an older teen to jerk off to, but now it seems he has a woman of his own to admire.

She whips around the track past him once, twice, three more times before he curses under his breath and mounts the second bike with little thought of what he plans to do once he catches up with her. Seeing that he forced her to take the only helmet, he starts it up exactly as he "taught" her to and takes off without one. The violent roaring of the vehicle vibrates through his body, rattling his bones as he faces the slight chill of the November night with the wind blowing against his face.

Soon enough, she approaches behind him at her faster pace, and right when he hears her approach, he pulls harder on the throttle and lets more of the clutch go until he's matching her speed.

He cannot hear anything but the sounds of the bikes they ride as they both take the corner of the track together. Nothing except for her loud laughter the second she sees him in her periphery and takes note of the unamused expression on his face. Her head is tipped back in laughter, her body operating on autopilot with her muscle memory from years of both racing on a track and riding a motorcycle, and he wishes he were better at riding so he could continue to turn his head to watch her throughout it. The skirt wrapped around her hips has ridden up so much that he can almost see all of her. If he cared less about the hit they're training to complete, he'd gladly crash in exchange for a few more seconds of watching her ride.

They proceed to pass and catch up with one another, swerving in and out of each other's way in a playful dance that'd threaten death were they less skilled at it. As per usual when it comes to driving any sort of vehicle, her skill outweighs his by a landslide. He should've suspected as much to begin with, but, foolishly, he let the confused puppy dog effect she had going take hold.

She finally comes to a stop ahead of him after another few minutes, and he nearly burns the side of his leg on the exhaust pipe with how quickly and carelessly he dismounts the bike in order to confront her. The helmet has been ripped off her head by the time he takes in the sight of her.

"Oh, come on!" The toothy smile worn proud on her face warms the center of his chest as he marches up to her. "It was funny, don't pretend it wasn—"

The remaining words of her defense are swallowed up by a surprised moan at the feeling of his lips melding to hers. His hands cup her face between them, keeping her locked into his grasp as he leans down to kiss her where she sits still straddling the bike. Her hands reach out to stabilize themselves on his hips. The tips of her fingers slip beneath the hem of his shirt, and she can nearly feel the warmth of his bare skin through the thick material of her gloves.

Seconds later, he pulls away to mutter, "Get off, we're going home."

The part of her that would've worried whether or not he was angry with her weeks ago no longer exists. Instead, she's excited. She knows him well enough now to understand that he isn't mad at her, he's antsy. He can't wait any longer to get his hands on her after all she's put him through tonight.

She shakes her head and leans back up to kiss him, but before she can reconnect their lips, Harry jerks away to dodge it. When she tries again, he does the same and refuses to let her proceed. The hands she has slipped underneath his shirt caress up and down the side of his waist.

"No, I want you here," she whispers. "Please."

It's visible on his face that he is having a difficult time deciding. On one hand, if they go home, he'll have the luxury of drawing it out and making it last all night if he pleases. On the other, here she is begging him to take her with a whining desperation that makes his cock twitch in his pants. And, this time, she isn't doing it to win a game going on between them, she's being truthful. Seeing that she already knows how to ride a motorcycle and all of the workers are inside with strict instructions from Garrett to leave them to their own devices...

"Put the kickstand down," he says.

She obeys.

He brings his unburnt hand up to his mouth and bites the end of the glove to tug it off. It's thrown somewhere to the ground behind her, but he doesn't pay it any mind, he's too preoccupied with her to care about anything.

Her lips taste of her berry-flavored lip balm when they next kiss, and his other hand raises to collar her neck with a demanding grip while the other descends the length of her torso. The tips of his fingers study every peak and valley found along the way, dipping between her breasts and ghosting over the softness of her stomach until he has reached the hem of her short skirt. Her breath hitches in her throat in anticipation of his reaction as his touch glides up the inside of her thighs—

The gentle rhythm of their kissing stops short.

Rather than finding a thin panel of fabric covering her, his fingers delved right into her slick folds without any resistance. It takes him longer than it should to realize that she isn't wearing no underwear, she's wearing the panties he gifted her today. To think he'd been seconds away from discovering this back at the parking garage...

He doesn't waste any time.

Harry hefts her up from the bike and repositions her so she's sitting sideways on it, no longer straddling it, and stands between her parted legs with an eagerness she can feel from how hard he is in his pants. Neither of them bothers with foreplay considering that she's already wet enough to have left a damp spot on the seat of the bike. It was difficult to keep her cool throughout the entire affair. The vibration of the bike on her bare cunt after their heated moment back at the garage had her halfway to orgasm on its own. With him kissing her as though his life depends on it, that arousal only increases.

With the bike leaning onto the kickstand on the side opposite to where he stands, it gives them enough stability to do what they wish without toppling it onto its side. He wouldn't let her get hurt, that much she knows, so she doesn't spare it another thought before reaching to undo his belt buckle. It's a fumbling process, but after a half minute of attempting to slip it out from around his pants, she lets it fall to the ground beside his feet.

Her hand dips beneath the waistband of both his pants and underwear to take his cock into her hand, using the drops of precum that have leaked from the tip as lubrication to stroke him a few times. Seeing that he's already hard, she doesn't continue on for much longer. She does it for just long enough to pull back and watch his eyes flutter shut in appreciation, his brows pinching together, and uses her other hand to tug his clothes down his thighs.

The tiger tattooed onto his left thigh is there to greet her as his pants and underwear are brought down to expose him to her. It's quite chilly out, so she makes certain not to stop the steady pace of her hand pumping up and down his length until she's guiding him into her. Her skirt is rolled up around her hips to allow him better access, and her arms twine around his neck to bring him in close as he slides home with a groan.

His mouth falls open against hers to take in heavy breaths at the feeling of her squeezing around his cock, the tight resistance making him have to thrust a bit harder to sink all the way in until his hips meet the soft backs of her thighs.

"Fuck," he curses under his breath. Their lips collide in a sloppy, languid kiss that is interrupted by their panting breaths. "I missed this."

That small confession brings a lazy smile to her face amidst the slightly painful stretch of having him inside of her. For the most part, it's easy to take him, but after spending a week apart, the longest they've gone in the past month, she isn't as prepared for the adjustment to his size. It's the type of pain she finds a strange pleasure in, though. She loves it, the pressure of feeling him so deep, she could press her hand down on the southernmost point of her stomach and nearly feel the bulge of him inside.

"Me too," she breathes out.

Despite her attempts to appear unbothered and hateful in their initial time apart, she did miss this. She missed him. His snarky retorts, his deadpan stares, and his giggle when she finally digs through the hard exterior built up around his heart and gets him to break. More than anything, she missed feeling close to him, and, when it comes to their relationship, this is currently the closest he will allow. Sex allows him to let his guard down in a way he can't consciously allow outside of it. The one time he let her hold his burnt hand was because he was too caught up in pleasuring her to notice or care.

Less than a minute after he first pushed into her, she rocks her hips forward, using the arms wrapped around his shoulders and neck as leverage to lift her ass off the seat of the bike, in the hope that it'll get him to start fucking her properly.

The message is intercepted with haste, which she assumes is because he barely had the restraint to hold himself back after their brief dry spell, and he makes good on her silent request. It's much gentler than it was in past times due to how she's balanced precariously on the seat of the bike with most of her weight held in his strong embrace. If his shirt were off, she'd be able to crane her neck down and watch his abdomen muscles contract and release with the effort of keeping her upright as he fucks into her at an unhurried pace.

It's the very antithesis of what their first time was like.

Their first time in Leo's parking garage had been flooded with rage and hatred. It'd been an aggressive yet passionate argument in the physical form, but this...it's even different from the last time they had sex in his bedroom. The circumstances of where and how they're doing it force him to take it slow and remain face-to-face with her through to the end of it, and she can't deny how overwhelming it feels to have him making eye contact with her during.

It seems that the inherent intimacy of it has occurred to him as well because he leans forward to press his forehead to hers and shuts his eyes to avoid the foreign feeling it sparks in his chest. The pace and depth of his thrusts pick up little by little, and, soon enough, it draws a strangled gasp from the back of her throat. Still, she remains as focused as she can on him.

Her hand slides from the back of his head, down his neck, and to his chin to grab hold of his face. It forces an inch or so of distance between them so they are no longer pressed together.

She whispers, "Open your eyes." It's a request he doesn't comply with the first time, so she clenches down around his cock and rocks her hips into his in time with his quickening thrusts. "Look at me." His eyelids flutter as though he's about to do it, and she juts her head to the side to make her face level with where his has been tilted down just so. The heat of her exhales can be felt puffing against his neck. "I'm right here, Harry."

The practiced cadence of his hips slapping against hers falters at the sound of his name falling from her lips.

His eyes open right away.

He hears it on a loop, Harry. Harry. Harry. Harry. Harry. Harry. Harry.

He never saw the beauty in his name until he heard it coming from her at a moment like this. Every time they've had sex, she's only ever called him daddy, not his name, and he thought he preferred it that way. He thought he preferred the buffer the kink put between them, as well as the cruel irony of it, but, now, he isn't as certain. Most of the people he's hooked up with weren't aware of his name, so he never had to worry about that invisible line being crossed. But, it isn't the problem he assumed it would be when coming from her.

Invigorated by hearing her say his name, as well as the rush of getting to fuck her again for the first time in what felt like forever, he drops one of his hands to hold onto the other side of the seat to ensure it won't tip over and starts pounding into her just the way she likes it. He isn't a selfish lover. Contrary to the assumptions people may make of him at first glance due to his reputation and career, he is attentive and takes note of what gets the best reaction from her. As far as he's concerned, if she doesn't come, he hasn't done his job right.

He doesn't look away from her or close his eyes this time. The arm slung around her waist keeps her trapped against his body, pinned in place so he can drive himself into her soaked pussy with a relentlessness that earns moans and gasps from her on the upstroke of each thrust.

"Perfect," he whispers. "So fucking perfect f'me, baby." The use of the nickname while he stares into her eyes spikes the pleasure already rising within the pit of her belly, and she can't do anything but whine his name incoherently in response. "Do y'know how hard it was not to come in, like, twenty seconds the first time? God, s'like your cunt was made just for me, sweet girl. Could hardly handle it. Still can't—fuck—"

The indescribable sensation of her purposefully squeezing down around his cock as a non-verbal, "Thank you," for the sweet words whispered to her halts him midway through speaking. He doesn't let his face fall against hers the way it would've had she not told him to look at her. Along with that request came the silent urging for him to keep looking at her, to never let her out of his sight from now until the end of their time together, however short or long that time may be.

And while there's a degree of discomfort involved with having her in such an intimate way, he does his best to push that feeling away. He likes it. Even though there's a part of him that remains conflicted, he's getting more out of fucking her like this—impossibly deep and urgent with her eyes burning into his—than he has from doing it any other way. It doesn't mean he wouldn't take pleasure in fucking the way he's grown accustomed to, but, this...this is a bliss unlike anything he's felt in the past ten years.

It's so unknown to him, he doesn't know what to do other than welcome the feeling into him with equal parts gratitude and skepticism. The first time he had sex was with a woman he met at one of Leo's clubs when he was nineteen. It wasn't warm or caring. It wasn't like this. Sex has always been a release for him, a place to take out his frustrations and anger without being destructive. Whenever people spoke of it being a way to express feelings for another person, he didn't understand, but, right now, everything clicks into place. With her, sex isn't just sex. She was the missing component in his life, and, now that he has her, he'll never let her go.

The wet sound of their bodies smacking together fills the open air around them and pushes her closer to the edge every time she hears it. With a particularly well-aimed thrust that brushes that overly-sensitive spot inside of her, her mouth falls open and her eyes clamp shut from the pleasure.

This time, it's Harry who gets to chide her, throwing the same words she used right back at her.

"Open your eyes." His voice is nothing more than a tender caress. "M'right here, baby."

She doesn't risk going against his orders when she's already on the verge of coming undone, so she does as he says without question. Every time he thrusts into her, his pubic bone presses down hard against her clit due to the angle of their aligned hips and shocks her body with pulses of pleasure that push her closer and closer. It's not that that ends up pushing her over the edge, however, it's him. Looking up at him, feeling him, listening to his voice murmuring to soothe her amidst her cries and emphatic moans—that's what does it for her.

It's a yawning void of euphoria.

It opens up around her and threatens to swallow her whole, urging her to forget everything except the high flooding through her, but she still doesn't look away from him. Throughout every surging wave of her climax, she wills herself to obey his command and allows the sight of him, as well as the smooth drag of him sliding in and out of her, to prolong its effect. Her arms hold tighter around his shoulders as she rides it out. Soft, tired moans escape her at the rough pace that now begins to feel overwhelming in the sensitivity following an orgasm, yet she doesn't need him to stop. If anything, she wants him to go harder. To use her for his own pleasure until she can do little more than cling onto him for support and babble his name.

The sensation of her clenching and unclenching around him throughout her orgasm is what inevitably brings him to his end.

He crosses the inches of space left between them and claims her mouth with his own as it hits him, his body tensing up in her hold. His thrusts have turned desperate and sloppy, much less focused on finding the sweet spot inside of her and more intent on burying his cock as deep as he can. A wince is pulled from her lips at his tip hitting her cervix, and, even through the heady pleasure of coming undone, his kiss turns gentler in an apology for the rough intrusion.

Her tight walls milk his cock until he's unable to stand it any longer and must stop moving in her due to the sensitivity that comes along with the refractory period. As he slowly pulls out of her, his cum drips down from her hole and threatens to stain the seat of the bike, but he's quick to remedy that. His ungloved fingers wipe it up from between her thighs on instinct, then push back inside of her to gather as much of the rest as they can. The sticky substance drips down his middle and forefinger when he raises his hand to her mouth.

Those pretty green eyes are heavy-lidded and sleepy, and he doesn't allow them to stray from her face throughout the process.

"Clean it up," he murmurs. "Go on, baby."

Even if she hadn't originally planned to follow every order he gives her for the time being, hearing him call her that again—this time after sex, not during—has her wrapping her lips around his fingers in a matter of seconds. He hums his approval, watching her suck his cum off of his fingers with a stare that's downright predatory in its intent. If they weren't in the middle of a race track, he'd go down on her until he was hard again and go for another round. But, due to the fact that they've already risked being seen by nosy workers, he simply pulls his fingers from her mouth and reaches down to pull his pants and underwear back up his thighs.

In the time he takes to tuck his softening cock back into his briefs and zip his pants up, she stands from the seat to shimmy her skirt back down into place. And, after they've both pulled themselves back together and redressed, he catches her by surprise.

He squats down partway and hefts her up by her legs to throw her over his shoulder before she can say a single word. The rich sound of her laughter reaches far around the race track, so far that anyone walking by the property could likely hear it. Neither of them cares, though, least of all him. Her laughter is music as far as he's concerned, and anyone would be lucky to have their ears blessed by such a gift.

"Put me down, you brute!"

This does nothing to convince him. All he does is chuckle to himself and walk in the direction of the parked Cobra with a wide grin on his face. The feeling of his hand patting her ass makes her jump in his arms.

"No, m'gonna lock you up in my room and fuck you till y'can't stay awake," he promises. "You're lucky I let you come after that shit y'pulled back at the garage."

Parroting his text from earlier in the day back at him, she says, "Don't threaten me with a good time."

Now, it's his laughter that echoes around the empty raceway for any bystanders to listen to and admire. They may not realize it either, but for the duration of this fleeting moment, they're both happier than they've been in the years preceding it. For him, it's been ten whole years since he's felt as light and playful as he does with her tonight. For her, it's been since the day her dad crashed his car three years ago.

Her head bops up and down into his back with every one of his long strides, and she ends up relaxing over his shoulder rather than feigning protest and acting like she wants to be set free. When it all began, perhaps she did want to avoid him for the rest of her life. She had every reason to, after all. But, after tonight and all else they've endured side by side, she's his. Now and always.

Harry sets her down on her feet outside of the shut passenger's side door to the car, yet he doesn't let go of her. Not yet. When they meet eyes, his lips twitch up at one end in a smile he tries his best to fight, and it isn't long before he's leaning in. Every second it takes for him to close the distance is painful, a second she wishes she could spend lost in the pleasure of kissing him.

The second their lips are about to brush, the ringtone to his personal phone blares out into the night air.

At first, he considers ignoring it, but he doesn't on the off chance that it's Leo or Garrett. The former only calls his cell when it's a dire emergency, so he doesn't want to risk upsetting the man holding her life over his head. He mumbles a quiet, "Gotta take this," into her parted lips before shifting in place to grab his ringing phone from the seat below.

Whoever it is that calls him, she doesn't know. His shoulder blocks the name of the contact from view, even as he goes as still as death and refuses to respond to her questioning what's wrong.

"Is it Leo, or—"

He walks off in the direction of the motorcycles with his phone raised to his ear without a glance spared in her direction. It's as if a switch was flipped and she no longer exists to him. She doesn't bother calling after him at this point. Based on the look he wore on his face when he turned around, it was something worthy of his undivided attention. Definitely more of a priority than their second round.

She observes him from afar the entire time.

For the most part, he doesn't do anything other than stand still and nod along with whatever the person on the other end of the line is saying. The fear of it being Leo ties her stomach into knots, allowing her thoughts to run away with the idea that he has somehow unraveled their elaborate plan to partner with his enemy and take him down. The death he'll give them should he figure it out won't be a pretty one.

Across the ample distance he put between them in order to keep her from overhearing anything, she picks up on the only thing he says back to the other person.

"I'll be there as soon as I can."

The phone is stashed away in his back pocket after the words leave his mouth, and right when she expects him to come walking back over to tell her where they have to go or what they have to do, he swings one of his legs over the bike she was riding and turns the key left in the ignition to get it started again. She doesn't even think before she starts walking over there. Her feet are moving of their own volition without her willing them to do so, steps hard and fast as it clicks with her what's happening.

When the engine begins to roar to life, she doesn't find it as beautiful as she had the first time around.

"Harry!" she shouts to be heard over the noise. "Where are you going?"

Just before she reaches him, he looks up at her one last time and pulls back on the throttle to drive away. The bike rips past her with enough speed to blow her hair back from her face. She stumbles back in fear of being run down, despite him leaving a decent few feet of space between her and the path he takes, and whips her head to the side to watch him disappear beyond the automatic gates to the property.

-

She doesn't see him for over a week.

In his absence, there haven't been any gifts left on the coffee table to remind her that he's still there, even if she doesn't physically see him. All that's there are the two missed phone calls she left that haven't been returned and his bag filled with weapons hidden away on the top shelf of his closet. That ruled out him having to work for Leo without her, so, she couldn't help but wonder, where was he? Who had called him away from her and why had he listened? The only living person she knows to have that amount of sway over his actions is their boss.

It's sheer dumb luck that the devil himself hasn't called her, screaming and asking where the hitman is and why he hasn't answered him in days. It's either that or he already knows where he is and is allowing his time away.

The lingerie he gifted her was ripped off the night he left and shunned to the bottom drawer of the dresser to keep any reminder of his abandonment away. How had she been foolish enough to believe he'd actually change? They enjoyed mere days of harmony and happiness before he inevitably led them back to ruin, refusing to speak to her or explain anything when he rode off into the night.

For the week and two days he has spent away, she has packed her schedule to the brim and kept busy. The thought of moping around his penthouse like a lovelorn schoolgirl was too pathetic for her to allow herself the downtime. In its place, she did everything she could think of.

First, she moved the envelope of money hidden in the air vent at her old apartment under the mattress in his bedroom. Were he home, he wouldn't go near the bed anyway. All he does is change his clothes and use the adjoining bathroom the few times he ventures into the room she now calls her own. She'd been meaning to place it somewhere she could keep an eye on it since moving into his apartment, but she was too distracted with him to prioritize it.

Second, she planned lunches, dinners, and movie nights with Alanis every night her dear friend had an opening. It ended up being two nights out of the nine he has left her for, but she was grateful for her company nonetheless. Although, she made certain not to clue her in on the fact that she started having sex with him again. As per their agreement after joining Garrett's team, no one could know what went on between them, and no matter how frustrated she was with Harry, she wouldn't break her word.

Third, she finally found time to do mundane acts of self-care such as going to the gym to exercise, getting her nails redone, and getting a haircut for the first time in over a year. All, of course, paid for by the money she stole from him. Although he'll never know, it brought a grin to her face to know she was getting back at him for his radio silence in the small way she knew how.

The fourth and final addition to her week-long break from Harry was nightly joyrides around the race track with the Cobra. Since he left it there for her to drive home and she had yet to chip away at her full anger for him, she took it upon herself to drive it there at sunset and ride until the urge to sleep made her weary down to her very bones. If the staff there had an issue with her presence, they didn't make it known. She soon began operating under the assumption that Garrett paid them well enough that either she or Harry could come over whenever they pleased. So long as they came after their closing hours.

Somehow, she still found herself idle during the late mornings and nights, and that is how she found herself baking an absurd amount every day. Cheesecake, apple pie, chocolate-chip croissants, pumpkin scones, Canelés de Bordeaux—anything and everything she could imagine. All of it she walked down to gift to any neighbors lingering on the ground floor, as well as the kind, old doorman who smiled at her whenever she came back to the building. By the fourth day of non-stop confectionaries, he told her his wife and children had begun to expect her delicious treats whenever he comes home from work. To this, she giggled and promised him she'd continue the tradition at least a few times a week once the frenzy calmed down.

Alanis' apartment building isn't much better than hers, but at least it has one thing her old place didn't: an elevator. It makes her task of bringing her her favorite type of baked good, simple raspberry thumbprint cookies, as a surprise gift easier than it would've been had she been burdened with climbing flight after flight of stairs.

She has to balance the large platter of cookies covered with plastic wrap in one hand while she lifts the other to knock at her front door. The last time they saw each other for a movie night, she mentioned feeling overworked and exhausted lately, so Y/N thinks this will be exactly what she needs to brighten her week.

There's no sign of life behind the door for the first minute and a half she stands there. Usually, Alanis can be heard playing guitar or talking with her latest fling on the phone while sitting on the couch, watching whichever Studio Ghibli movie she chose to fixate on for the week. On their most recent movie night, it was Howl's Moving Castle, so that's what she expected to hear faintly playing through the walls. Either that or a new song she's writing.

Her closed fist knocks on the door harder this time, and she tells herself that if she doesn't answer this time, she'll leave them at her doorstep and shoot her a text saying they're from her. A minute passes without anyone coming to the door, so she moves to set them down on the doormat without thinking anything of it.

Right when she's setting the platter down, the door swings open into the apartment to reveal Alanis standing with one arm braced against the frame. Her chest rises and falls at a rapid rate, her curls are wild and untamed where they frame her face, and her eyes have gone wide at the sight of her. Y/N knows with one glance that she's scared. Of what, she isn't sure, but there's no mistaking the look on her face.

"Hey!" Alanis exclaims and forces a wide smile, "Um, what're you doing here?"

Her brows furrow.

"I was just stopping by to drop off some of your favorite cookies. You said you were having a tough week, so..."

The strange way Alanis behaves isn't entirely foreign to her. She witnessed it one other time, two years ago when she walked in on what she assumed had been a heated moment between her and Peter in the kitchen of their old house. It was one of their movie nights, and when she excused herself to go to the bathroom, Peter took it upon himself to refill the bowl of popcorn the three of them shared.

This was back when Peter was still Peter. Before their mom committed suicide and with her also died what little resilience he had left in the aftermath of their father's crash. It was a known fact among her parents that Y/N was the stronger of the two, to the extent that her mom didn't worry as much about her in the grieving process as she had him.

When ten minutes had elapsed without either of them coming back to the living room, Y/N called out for Peter and started walking over to the kitchen. Whatever they were doing or talking about before she warned them of her approach, it was ripe with intensity if the looks on their faces had anything to show for it. And, right now, her best friend is wearing that look on her face again.

Alanis raises her hand to scratch the back of her neck, saying, "Thank you, I—uh—I really appreciate it, but I'm kind of, like, in the middle of something right now."

It's a fair reaction as far as Y/N is concerned. If she texted her saying she was coming to drop something off ahead of time, perhaps she'd feel somewhat scorned by the lack of enthusiasm, but it's understandable. In their friendship, they've been known to swing by each other's places whenever they please, so she didn't feel the need.

"Oh," she murmurs, then the buried connotations of what was said finally hits her, and a grin appears on her face.

Before she can say a thing, Alanis is shaking her head.

"Y/N--"

"No, no, don't mind me." She holds out the wrapped-up platter with a stifled laugh fighting its way out of her. "I'll just leave the cookies and let you get back to your orgy."

Just like that, the awkward tension that was bubbling up disintegrates with the light-hearted direction she drives the interaction into. This right here is one of the things they mutually cherish most about their years-long friendship. No matter how fumbling or awkward moments may become, there's always a way to bring them back to their natural state in minutes or less.

Alanis scoffs, scandalized, and steps out of the doorway to whisper to her, "I wasn't having an orgy, I just have a guy over. I may be a proud slut, but I haven't reached orgy status yet, let's be realistic here."

"Well," Y/N says, hardly containing her giggles, "There are about thirty tiny cookies in here so it should keep the group well-nourished for the next couple of rounds."

If it were a topic too raw to joke about, neither of them would touch it, but, as it stands, Alanis relishes in jesting about her various hook-ups and open relationships. Perhaps if they weren't such good friends from childhood, they would have something between them as well. She's of the belief that love and sex are things that shouldn't be withheld whether or not someone already has a frequent fuck buddy or not. Her parents, much to everyone's surprise, were not part of the "free love" hippie crowd she identifies with. In fact, her father is a pastor back in their hometown, and he thinks she's currently attending a Catholic college in the city.

The gasp Alanis takes in only fuels Y/N's stifled giggling.

"I won't be taking slander from the woman who fucked a literal murderer!" she whisper-shouts.

At this, the play-fighting pretense is dropped, at least on Y/N's side of it, and she hands off the cookies to the other woman with an overly dramatic roll of her eyes. Their hands brush as she takes it from her.

"Go on, enjoy your man," she says. "But, I expect a full report in the morning. I want all the nasty details."

It's a ritual at this point for Alanis to retell her adventures in dating and fucking to her over breakfast, working on the cars at the shop, or on their movie nights together. For Y/N, the reciprocation of this particular ritual hasn't occurred since she got into bed with Harry, but she doesn't let her guilt sway her into spilling anything about him yet. It isn't because she doesn't trust Alanis either, she does, but she promised Harry she wouldn't. Also, it is mildly embarrassing how easy it was for him to get her back after the disgusting things he said two weeks ago.

As Y/N turns to go, Alanis asks, "Breakfast tomorrow at the diner? I'll buy this time. You can tell me all the nasty details about you and the murderer, then I'll let you in on my next orgy."

Her cheeks ache from smiling.

"Deal."

-

The sun has set by the time Y/N gets back to his apartment building.

Part of her had been hoping Alanis would invite her in and help her chip away at another night she otherwise would spend alone in his bedroom, but she can't blame her for it. If anyone interrupted her and Harry on the race track, she probably would have ripped one of her shoes off and flung it at their head to shoo them away. The thought of it alone brings a dry chuckle out of her as she waits for the elevator to reach the top floor of the building.

Despite her not doing anything today other than baking cookies and watching television, there's a fog of exhaustion looming over her head and weighing her down. Her head is tilted back to rest against the wall of the elevator, and she shuts her eyes for a moment of peace and quiet, but all she sees when she does so is him. Somewhere underneath the frustration, she worries for his well-being. Wherever he is, whatever he's doing, she wishes he could find a way to tell her he's okay.

The elevator doors ding and open up to the single hallway leading to his front door.

At this point, she doesn't know what to expect from him. The way he acts around her has changed, that's for sure, but he's still prone to icing her out at a moment's notice. What they shared together on the race track was one of the happiest times of her life, and, yet, he managed to drop the ball. If he had to leave, why didn't he just talk to her about it? Why did he have to abandon her and leave no explanation, or at least a text message letting her know he isn't in danger?

The apartment looks the same as it had when she left it.

Dishes from her baking marathon have piled up to a tower in the kitchen sink, the mere sight of them making her groan to herself as she realizes that she has to get those finished before retiring to bed for the night. Other than those, the place is spotless for the most part. She tried to be a good house guest in the time he spent away despite her annoyance with him.

A glance at the clock hung on the wall of the living room shows it's half past nine, so she takes that as her cue to get everything set up for bed before she works on doing the dishes. On her way past the couch, though, something catches her eye. Since the first time she visited his apartment, the neatly kept bookshelf sitting against the wall across from the door is out of order. Not by much. There's a single book sitting on top of the shelf, face down and flipped open two-thirds of the way through.

"What the..." she mutters and walks off in the direction of it, her face scrunched up in confusion.

It's a battered paperback on the verge of ripping in half. When she finally arrives at the bookshelf and reaches to take it from its spot, she handles it as carefully as she can out of fear of breaking it. Every other book on the shelf is in pristine condition. They remain untouched, ordered in the Dewey Decimal system—which has her muttering a soft, "Nerd," under her breath at him—and covered in dust on their top sides. The only one of his books that doesn't have dust coating it on top is this one.

The illustration on the cover displays a butterfly breaking free of a set of chains and flying upward toward the burning sun. She's heard of it but never took the time to check it out of the library or go buy it for herself. She hasn't even seen the film adaptation of it.

"Y'changed your hair."

Hearing a man's voice speak from behind makes her shriek in fear and spin around with her back pressed to the bookshelf, the paperback raised as a weapon to whoever came to harm or rob her. But, it isn't Tate, Leo, or any one of the sort who she'd expect to break in and threaten her for information or the sick thrill of it. Standing with his arms crossed over his chest and leaning against the back of the couch, Harry stares at her with tired eyes.

She doesn't know what to do, let alone what to say. In the time he spent away, she thought she'd either fist-fight him, hate-fuck him, cry, start a yelling match, or all of the above when she next saw him, but all of those options evade her in the moment. What stops her from yelling at him right away is how he looks. The facial hair he makes sure to shave off every morning has grown out to a decent stubble, his eyes are sunken in from lacking sleep, and his shoulders are slouched as though the weight of whatever it is he was called away for presses him into the ground like gravity itself.

Leaving wasn't a choice, then, it was an obligation. One that he didn't take lightly. One that wore him down into a less put-together version of himself over the course of the week. It's at this moment that she decides that his leaving won't be a dealbreaker for her. She won't start a fight, yell, or cry, but he will be given a warning.

He speaks again, waving a hand at the book she's holding, "That's my favorite."

"What's it about?"

A heavy sigh of release sinks his chest at the sound of her softly spoken question, as if he'd be anticipating a hurricane of problems when returning home and found her merciful and forgiving instead. He doesn't move from his spot against the couch.

"It's about a prisoner wrongfully convicted of murder. The other inmates call him Papillon, that's the french word for butterfly, cause of the tattoo on his chest. S'where I got the idea," he explains, and his voice sounds so weary and broken, it snaps her heart in two. "He tries to escape so many times, they send him to this prison on an island where nobody's ever escaped from."

She flips through the pages to get a feel for it, noting the marked pages and places in which the paper feels more worn than others. By the time she flips through to the end, she notices that the last one hundred or so pages are in better condition than the rest. They've never been folded down to mark his place, or accidentally ripped in places as some of the others have been.

"How does it end? Is he ever free?"

He says, "I dunno. I always stop before he actually tries to escape from the island."

"Why?"

All she gets in response is an unsure shrug. Apparently, not even he knows the answer.

There's a moment of pause following this during which she can't do anything but fidget with the book and grasp for ideas of what to say to him in her mind. Everything she practiced saying alone in his bedroom for days had been scattered to the wind by his sorry-looking state tonight. He looks like a kicked puppy, and she can't bear the thought of hurting him anymore, but she doesn't know why. She used to have no problem hurling insults and picking fights, it became their "thing" after a while, but the words can't be said anymore.

She sets the book down back on top of the shelf and makes her way over to him. It's a slow process. Though she wouldn't insult or yell at him, she lets him feel the tension he put on her with his absence over the course of the week, and when she finally reaches him, she sees his chest halt in its pattern of breathing for a second.

Softly, she says, "Never do that to me again."

There's a brief few seconds he spends entertaining the idea of telling her what happened and why he left with such haste, but he catches himself before it can be done. He may not react as harshly as he wants to on instinct and push her away with cruelty, but he's not ready to let her in. In truth, he isn't sure if he ever will be, and that's what he decides to tell her.

Harry reaches up and cups her face in his hands, forcing her to meet his gaze, and fights to keep the tears begging to fall from slipping over the veins of his eyes.

"I can't tell you everything. I know I should've said something, but I couldn't"—he takes a deep breath, and she can hear the wavering in his voice—"It was family. I couldn't say no."

"You don't have to tell me what's happening, it's your personal business, and I get that, but..." She blinks away the urge to cry that stings behind her eyes at the sight of him holding back tears himself and shakes her head, not allowing her hands to raise to touch him or comfort him with touch on the off chance it makes him uncomfortable. "I thought something really bad happened to you. You talk about how much you want to protect me, and how much you worry about me, but you don't even realize how much I worry about you. You didn't even text me to tell me you were okay. I used to have family emergencies a few times a month, I understand, okay? You just have to tell me you're alive so I don't spend a week going out of my fucking mind."

When he takes a breath in to speak, she keeps going.

"I felt kind of used. You just fucked me and took off. You just...you left me there all by myself. I know that's all we are to each other, but I'm still a person. I have feelings. I matter, and if you keep doing shit like this, I can't do this anymore. I won't," she finishes with a sob.

The hand cupping her face slips down to tug her into his arms, and when he wraps his arms around her, she just breaks. Her cries fill the open space of the living room as she shrinks down into his comforting embrace. What she hates most of all, she thinks, is that it helps. He may be the reason for her tears, but being held by him is the remedy to it all. With him, even the worst moments are beautiful.

His arms tighten around her the harder she cries, and his hand brushes her hair from her face in a soothing, repetitive touch that quiets her loud sobs to a volume that won't alert the downstairs neighbors of her distress.

"I promise I won't do that again," he whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, "I promise."

And, for now, that's enough.

A sorrowful smile finds its way to her lips at that, and she reaches up to wipe the tears from her cheeks. All the while, he's bracing his hands on her shoulders and looking down at her with genuine concern in his gaze. She realizes it's the first time in their relationship that a disagreement or falling out between them hasn't ended in total disaster, and she doesn't know what to do with it. The prospect of things changing between them is something she's longed for for the past few weeks, but, now that it's occurring, it's strangely uncomfortable.

The mutual chaos they fed off of kept them at a safe distance. Although they indulged in each other physically, it never had to pass a certain line emotionally. Tonight, however, she can feel the shift in energy humming in the air around them. She already began to feel it that day on the race track too. Things have changed, and what else can she do but hold on for dear life and pray he doesn't ruin her life more than he already has?

She sniffles, tears still shining on her face despite her attempts to wipe them away, and looks up at him. One of her thumbs brushes over the coarse facial hair poking out from his jawline in an inquisitive touch. It must be at least six days since he last shaved.

"No offense, but you look like you haven't slept or shaved in ages," she says, then allows herself to fully smile at the sound of him chuckling. The thumb caressing his jaw slides down to his chin and inspects the hair growing from it. "Let's get you cleaned up, hm?"

-

"I don't understand why y'insisted on doing it like this, I do know how to shave my own face, y'know that, right?"

"Oh, hush. If you keep talking I might nick you," Y/N mutters back with an equal amount of sass from where she is perched atop his lap with a razor raised to his face.

Harry doesn't know how he allowed this to happen. Actually, he does. He knew damn well how badly he fucked up a few hours after he left her there on the race track, alone and scared that something terrible had happened, and when she asked to shave his face, he couldn't deny her. One look at those tear-filled eyes and he caved in a matter of seconds. Still, he considers it a better alternative to her holding a knife to his crotch. Knowing her, she'd make it a gun this time if he hadn't wanted to get back in her good graces.

The scent of the shaving cream smeared under his nostrils and along his chin is all he can smell as she dips the razor beneath the running tap to get the hairs off of it. When he reluctantly agreed to the proposal, she dragged in a chair from the kitchen and gestured for him to sit beside the sink. One of his hands rests on the curve of her hip, not to keep her steady but rather because he wants to touch her after spending a week away, agonizing over the reason behind the call he got and how Y/N would react once he returned.

Just for the sake of torturing him, she says, "You know, I kind of digged the stubble. I liked how it felt when I sat on your face that one time."

As per her request, he remains quiet when she has the razor to his face, but he does allow his lip to twitch upward in a slight grin at the recollection of that day. What a little brat, teasing him with talk about sex and face-sitting while he's on strict orders to remain silent. She’s lucky he's being a suck-up tonight or else he'd have her bent over his knee with her panties shoved in her mouth.

The second she moves to run the razor back underwater, he asks, "So, all I have to do to get you to sit on m'face again is not shave for a week?"

She scoffs.

"Keep dreaming. You've lost your face-sitting privileges for the week."

Before she can start shaving off more of the hair, he leans forward to nuzzle his face in the curve of her neck and nips at the stretch of sensitive skin just underneath her earlobe with his teeth. His next words are muffled by it, but not before she lands a playful smack onto his arm for the bite, as well as getting shaving cream on her.

"What about next week?"

"If you keep talking while I'm shaving you, I will toss you out of your bedroom window," she snaps.

Harry offers an overly enthusiastic, "Yes, ma'am," and tilts his chin up to present it to her dramatically, shutting his eyes in acceptance of his horrid fate. The feeling of her body jerking with sweet laughter brings a warmth to the center of his chest again, and he doesn't need to open his eyes to know how cute she looks right now. With her hair swept up away from her face with a scrunchie and pimple cream dotted over a few patches of disobedient skin, she looks better than he's ever seen her. Best of all, in his humble opinion, is the teeny tank top he can feel her nipples poking through against his chest whenever she inhales.

For the next few minutes, she works with diligence. Every curve of her wrist that brings the razor against his face is filled with care and caution, and she never, not once, cuts him in the process. All that's left to do is the mustache.

His hand grabs around her wrist to stop her from shaving it.

"Leave it," he says, his face unreadable.

Back in late October, he remembers her saying something along the lines of thinking mustaches are for firemen, dads, and pedophiles who like creeping around at the park, so he's trying to hold out on the little joke for as long as he can. Not that he's against the idea of a mustache. He isn't. Yet, knowing her dislike of them, he wouldn't keep it there.

Her eyebrows might as well be at her hairline with how high she raises them.

"I am not letting you ruin your beautiful face with a pedo-stache. I won't allow it," she says, then continues on with desperation tinging her speech as he tries to remain stone-faced. "Please, don't make me do this! I will literally never sit on your face again if you make me give you a mustache, you sadist!"

He tilts his head to the side, not unlike a confused dog.

"Beautiful face? Thought you were mad at me, sweetheart."

"Yeah, and I'm about to reach murder-level anger if you make me go through with this."

It's impossible to imagine her reaching "murder-level anger" seeing that she's the same woman who has berated him for killing people with nonchalance multiple times, but he puts a pin in that comment for another time. The razor raised in her right hand comes off as more of a threat than anything else, so he better come clean before she cuts his face up in revenge.

"I was just fucking with you," he says. "Y'can shave it, I don't care."

She takes his permission and runs with it as soon as it's given. It's almost comical how swiftly she has the razor to his upper lip after he gives her the go-ahead. And, as promised, he doesn't talk at all throughout the process of shaving it off. Instead, he watches her eyes narrow in focus at the task before her and takes in the sight of her straddled over his lap. His gaze slips down to look at her breasts, hugged tightly by the cotton fabric of the shirt she wears, and he watches her chest rise and fall with admiration gleaming on his face.

The degree to which he's grown attached to her scares him shitless, sure, but he ignores it the best he can. At every turn, she reminds him of the fact that their relationship is nothing more than a coworkers-with-benefits arrangement, and that reassurance puts him at ease more than she'll ever know. He doesn't have to worry about her developing feelings for him like he thought he did. They can simply exist together in mundane moments like this, and that's all he's ready for.

When she shifts in place to rinse off the razor and set it down on the counter, she goes still at the feeling of something semi-hard pressing up against her clothed cunt. Her accusatory stare settles on his face right away.

"...Are you seriously getting hard right now?"

His eyes avert to the ground for a second as his face flushes pink with what appears to be embarrassment. Much to her surprise, it seems he is capable of that basic human emotion without shutting down like a robot programmed to kill everything in sight.

He says, "I can take care of it myself if m'still on time out."

Back when the week began, she was infuriated with him. To the extent that she even went out of her way to do the little things that would piss him off even though he wasn't there to notice or care. She swore to herself that she wouldn't let him close enough to abandon or hurt her again, and yet...Yet here she sits, her heart hammering in her chest and arousal already bringing her back to life as she goes to war with herself over it. The sound of Alanis' disappointed voice when she told her she slept with him is clear in her mind when she recalls the moment, but having him right beneath her muddles her thoughts.

Her lip is bitten between her teeth with enough pressure to draw blood. She can already tell where this will lead. Her resolve is slipping, but she has a hard time forcing herself to care anymore. Maybe that makes her weak, maybe it makes her everything she swore to herself she wouldn't be, but when she shifts in his lap to feel his hard length pressing up against her, she can't help but sigh in relief at the contact.

She whispers, "It's okay."

His free hand slips down the length of her back until it settles on her other hip and slowly, very slowly, drags her hips forward to grind her against his cock through their clothes. The soft breaths he takes turn heavier the second he feels the delightful pressure of her on top of him.

If he were being honest, he'd tell her the real reason why he got aroused so quickly wasn't as cut and dry as going a week without sex and having her sitting on his lap, squirming around. It confuses him too much to put it into words, but he was watching her focus all of her attention on shaving his face, her eyes narrowing in focus, and found himself overwhelmed by everything that has happened. By her. He never likes being the one who gets taken care of, he's always been the one looking after her, but watching her dote on him like that made something inside of him click into place.

She'd never believe him if he told her that seeing her sticking her tongue out in focus and straddling his lap with pimple cream dotted on her face is what got him hard. It wasn't even for the sake of having sex, he could've ignored it, but she noticed, and who is he to pass up an opportunity to get his hands on her?

Harry drops his face into her neck as she begins to rock back and forth against him, her arms thrown over his shoulders while his cinch around her waist to guide her through the motions of it. Her cheek presses into the top of his head, and she relaxes against him. Curls of brunette hair brush against her face with every lazy thrust of her hips that heighten the inklings of arousal swirling in the pit of her abdomen little by little.

Whatever problems they may have, no matter how complicated and fucked up they are, she knows now that there's no looking back.

-

Hey, guys! I hope you enjoyed this, I had so much fun writing it and would love to hear all of your thoughts, so shoot me an ask or comment to let me know how you liked it :)

#harry styles #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #fanfiction #dark harry #getaway car

[recreationalfanfics]

Hello, I love your scripts so much, I revel in them every day! 😍

How about a scenario where the reader placed a yandere!adventurer in the friend zone, keeps next to him and considers him a himbo? Will he find out about it, or will he blindly feed off his obsession with the few bits of attention he can get from the object of his adoration? 👀

THE READER ISN'T WRONG, JESSE IS DEFINETLY A HIMBO TO SOME DEGREE NGL.

Jesse is a very well-sought after man, some of his adventures involving flings with other women and men but nothing that really lasted since he was always all over the world. He believed his heart just wasn't able to be tied down to a romance because his true love was adventuring...you proved him wrong, however.

The painful thing about being in love with you is that you didn't seem to love him back the way he wanted. Yes, you'd take care of him when he was sick and would scold him and make him take a break when adventuring took too much out of him, but that's just because you were a good friend and a good person. When he puts his arm over your shoulder during movie nights, you'd just laugh and unwrap it around yourself and tell him you weren't his arm rest. During moments he thought were intimate and romantic, his eyes would go half lidded and he was ready to pucker up his lips and kiss you...AND THEN YOU'D BE ALL: "Oh, WAIT, YEAH, CAN YOU DECODE THESE FOR ME? There like some old language or something but I'm so lost. You're good at them, though!" One time he overheard you and Scarlette talking and she brought up how Jesse seems to flirt with you a lot and you just snorted and cackled, "Jesse's just a goofball, he's like that with everyone." and he just nearly threw his hat to the ground to stomp on if (nearly).

You HAD to be doing this on purpose, you HAD to know that he liked you, right? That's what Jesse thinks at first but then he looks into your eyes and they're so genuine and happy around him. So welcoming and warm that his usual grin drops a little because he's helpless when you look at him like that. It's also painful because he can't see any romantic love in your eyes, no longing that tells him you want him as badly as he wants you. You just saw him as your goofy flirtatious friend who did stupid life-threatening things sometimes.

Basically, he has a mixed response; he KNOWS that you see him as a friend but he's stumped on how to jump over that hoop because usually his good looks and charm are enough but it looks like you're making him work a lil bit harder, hun. So he supposes he doesn't mind being in the friendzone as much, even if it is painful hearing you call him "broski", "buddy", "bestie", or anything like that. It's nice to have all your attention and while he doesn't know how to make you change your view on him, he knows that he can change everyone else's view on the both of you.

He's still his normal affectionate self but he'll also do little things that'll make other people think you're a couple and scare off anyone who might have their eyes on you. He'll wander off randomly which can cause you both to be late to things so you hold his hand and pull him along with you, his pearly whites flashing because he just can't fight back how happy he is. Making you laugh so hard you have to lean on him for support, causing jealous single people to glare at the both of you and shake their heads in distaste. Making it a point to call you nicknames like: "Sweet pea", "Hun", "Darlin'", "Sweetheart", "Sugar", "Sweet peach" and you don't really pay it any mind.

However if you do ever get into a relationship, he is most definetly gonna be instigating stuff so that it barely ever lasts. Like, he'll hang out with your partner and just be all: "It must be hard when (Y/n) has to work all 'em hours, ya know?" and your s/o is all: "I mean...I never thought about it before but yeah, you're right, it kinda does suck." and whenever you get into an argument with your s/o and call Jesse to rant, he's all: "Me personally? I wouldn't let that slide." and he's internally smug, watching as you two become more and more passive aggressive with each other, telling you guys that you both look super tense. Couples therapy will not help, this man is a middle child who pitted his brothers against each other for the hell of it, and he's very good at making sure you two are focused on being angry at each other.

When you finally break up, your good friend Jesse will always brighten your day but even after all of that, you still smile at him and say: "Thanks for being with me, Jesse. I'm super lucky to have a best friend like you."

and there's a weird pain in his heart, one that makes him want to just grab you and kiss you and yell about how you keep him up at night. How he never stops thinking about you, how on nights when he's off somewhere else that he sleeps with your letters under his pillow, and how he has dreams where he's got you in his arms as you decorate his face with kisses and he whispers about how much he adores you.

Instead, he rubs your back and says: "M'always gonna be there for ya, hun!"

#Yandere Adventurer #Oc: Jesse Reeves #yandere x gender neutral reader #yandere male x reader #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere male #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #tw yandere #male yandere oc #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader

[paradoxical-stars]

Change

Change Metamorphosis You never Realize the ways you change Not Immediately at least. For most people, they change sort of like the seasons Slowly but consistently Always able to tell from tiny little signs like the temperature and the leaves changing Maybe their smile has finally thawed Maybe they laugh a little bit freer. Maybe they don't look at their phone so much Or Maybe They show just that bit more of their real selves. I always wanted change to hit me like a freight train. I wanted it to be instantaneous, Noticeable, and immediate. I wanted to be able to be someone other than myself in the blink of an eye No matter who tells me I am good, I am Beautiful, I am smart I have always felt it a bit like a lie Something people say because they don't want to pity me or hurt my feelings with the truth. I would always prefer to be pissed off and hurt by the truth than placated with a lie It's who I am. I used to be Brash, Brave, and always ready for a fight at the drop of a hat. I used to Be Fearless and courageous and Never willing to back down. I used to be able to do whatever with no remorse.

Then I made friends. I made friends who made me shrink. Made me Mute. Made me weak. I made friends who found every insecurity I had and Made it true more than my own thoughts. I made friends who changed the core of who I am. I hate that person. I hate who i am with every fiber of my being. I am trying to change. I am trying to be a broken caterpillar who turns into a butterfly. I can never be the girl I was before I met them. Though I have tried and failed and hurt myself and others by trying. I don't know who i am going to be next. I just hope it's someone better. I hope it's someone who will knock off your socks With how blinding her beautiful smile is. How she's fearless and won't shut up And how she's oh so smart and capable of anything And always lend a helping hand.

This is me. Wishing the next person i turn into To be kind and to be loved.

#Vent Poetry #Poetry #origional #Original Poetry #my poetry #Paradox Poetry

[throwaway-yandere]

Bad Ending 1: "You're Collei's Friend, After All!"

Cw: major character death and suicide. Please do not read this bad ending if you're not in a healthy mindset at the moment. Your mental health matters.

—------

"Little C-Collei… Why did you…"

"I-Isn't it obvious?"

The little girl smiled weakly. She bleeds through your new coat, no longer bothering to stop the gunshot wound from gushing out. Her eyes were afraid, but accepting all the same. You didn't know what to do, but you know what will happen.

Collei will die.

She'll have to go to heaven by herself, alone.

What you cradled wasn't charred nor sizzling, her body was cold and moist, yet isn't this what most people call deja vu?

You just lost Dimitri this way, in your arms as well– is this how she'll go too?

"Shit, shit, shit– COLLEI!!!"

Tighnari yelled from afar and the drop of his gun reverberated in the abandoned theater booth loudly. You couldn't hear him. You would've aimed for his neck if you had. That damn professor was an incredible marksman– how could he miss his shot this poorly? It should've been you. 

It was a warning shot.

It was supposed to be a fucking warning shot.

But none of that matters now. All your senses were focused on her and her alone.

"No… No, it's not obvious." You answered.

Collei giggled in pain.

"S-Silly… No one wants their friends to fight…"

You trembled.

You wanted Collei to die. You can't deny that. 

But you just weren't expecting Tighnari to be the one to take the shot.

Collei teared up, no longer keeping her brave girl act as she weeps in both physical and mental strains. Eleazar heightens susceptibility to pain, which is why most patients are addicted to painkillers. Since she's suffering from the same fate as you, you could only imagine how much suffering the poor girl is going through. 

"A-After all, I only have the three of you!" She cried. "I-I don't wanna lose any of you– but– but am I going to die?"

You weren't sure what you were feeling earlier, but you were certain of it now. Your heart sank.

"P-Please Capo–" She sobbed, tears flowing down her cheek along with her mucus. "I don't want to die– I'm not ready to die yet…"

You closed your eyes, biting back tears.

There was no waiting for her to say more.

She was already dead. 

That was not a figurative speech. Little Collei's body was no longer breathing. Those were the last words she had spoken. Collei died fearing death with not much else to say, and that's the most tragic thing about it.

But she doesn't have to go to heaven alone.

Perhaps this was for the best. You've seen enough– you've reached the top. There is no point in any more senseless slaughter, no point in becoming a monster, no point in waiting till the timer ticks to zero. 

You'll join Collei, and maybe reunite with Dimitri along the way. If you can't get to heaven, the least you could do is point her in that direction.

You pulled out Tartaglia's double-action revolver. 

The frigid nuzzle cocked itself right on your temple. A perfect fit.

Sorry, fratello. 

You'll never love your favorite gun the same way again.

"(Y/N), NO!!!–"

SHOT!!!

…

Death came quickly.

And there your corpse laid beside hers. 

Your hat fluttered near Tighnari's shoes as he watched you sit peacefully with little Collei resting on your lap like a parent would with their child on a picnic. 

Tighnari knelt and screamed tearfully, holding you both tight. 

There is no real respite, no true salvation for people like you– nor innocent ones like Little Collei. There is only one fate left for those with Eleazar and the professor couldn't accept how you both rushed it.

You two never even found out half of the lengths he had to go through just to find a cure. The blood he had to spill. The people he had to betray.

It's all meaningless now.

In his hands he held you both close yet you felt so far away.

Fallen, cold and dead.

#tag: ocmc - cta #yandere tighnari #tw: suicide #angst #bad endings #genshin mafia au