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georgiapeach30513 · 1 year

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Entangled Lust, Part 7

Summary: Another night with Frank

Pairings: Frank Adler X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content, smut, unprotected sex, PIV sex, creampie, mentions of bruises, mentions of abuse, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 2.8K

Series Masterlist

*dividers by @firefly-graphics

“Roberta?” Frank leans in his landlord’s house, peeking around the corner, “I have a favor.”

“No,” she answers shortly, carrying a load of laundry through the hall before sitting on the couch. “Whatever it is you want, the answer is no.”

“But…”

“No, Frank.”

“I asked Miss Honey out on a date. A real date,” she cocks up her eyebrow, looking him up and down confused. The last she heard about you, you had a something. A boyfriend, dating, something. “Okay, here’s the deal, the man she’s been…seeing, he’s still out of town. She…she kinda confided in me that he makes her uncomfortable. It was just fun, but you know how I told you I saw him at the school watching her. She’s ending it.”

“And you think it’s a good idea to get involved with a woman who hasn’t broken up with this man? How do you know that she even is interested, or that she will leave him. You’re like the other woman convincing themselves that the husband will leave their wife.”

“No, you don’t understand,” Frank interjects, but his voice remains calm. His mouth turns up into a sweet smile, “We kissed. And there was no alcohol involved, and it was…Roberta, it was amazing. And we talked, and it didn’t involve kids or work. Just talked about things we liked and our childhood, and I want this date, but she’s cooking at the house, and I would like it if you watched Mary again tonight. We don’t have much time until that man comes back, and she talked about the best way to end it with him, and…she is. I know I sound crazy, but she doesn’t want to be with him. She was bored, and did whatever because I was an idiot and ignoring her. I did that. I pushed her away, and now it’s my job to bring her back into my life. Please. Pretty pretty please, and I’ll make sure she makes enough food for me to bring over here.”

“Fine,” Roberta answers quickly. Standing up she takes a few steps closer to Frank, “But I want you to be careful. I want you to guard yourself, not too much because I know how much you like this girl. And I’m only doing this because you know I would keep Mary any day of the week. Why do you think she’s scared of him? Other than the obvious of him watching her?”

“Steve, he’s friends with Bucky. He owns a club of a, uh…it’s a sex club.”

“Of the anonymous kind?” Frank nods his head, “She got mixed up in that? Mary’s sweet little teacher?”

“Rough sex isn’t off limits to teachers. We talked about it, about her kinks and preferences, and they were not a turn off, I can tell you that. But…he’s been getting rougher with her. To the point I’ve noticed she’s been off at school. She’s not enjoying it anymore. She’s scared, and I just want to have a nice quiet life with her.”

“You know, if you and her work out, you’re going to have to move. I’ve got bigger houses for you,” she runs her hand up and down Frank’s arm giving him a smile, “Protect yourself. Don’t get in too deep until you know for sure that woman is going to leave him. You’ve got a child to worry about. But you’re a grown man. I’ll keep Mary. I’m allergic to tree nuts. And I don’t want cold food, I want you to walk over here with a plate for me and Mary,” giving her the biggest smile, Frank nods his head, and starts for the door. He had a lot to do before you came over.

“You know,” you playfully say as you step through Frank’s door. He had cleaned up. It wasn’t just the apartment, it was himself as well. His usual oil crusted nails were completely cleaned. A new shirt, his messy hair was styled (even though you preferred the messy), cologne, and even his beard seemed more clean. “You didn’t have to clean to impress me.”

“Well,” he shrugs his shoulders with a smile, “Are you impressed?”

“Mhmm,” you bite at your lip, and he pulls you close to his body.

“Is this okay?” You nod your head whispering yes, and he dips in lower to you, “What about this?”

“Yes…” oh the desire to call him sir was creeping up your throat, and you weren’t sure how Frank would feel about that. So you stuff it down. Not everything Bucky told you was awful, you just weren’t sure you could explore those things with other people. You never wanted Frank to think you were a freak.

“I’m gonna kiss you, okay?”

“Okay,” your voice was already so weak. It was practically begging him to destroy you. Pressing his mouth against your own, it didn’t take long until you were putty in his arms. The kiss was vastly different from Bucky. There was so much need and desire. With Bucky it was this animalistic lust.

With Frank you found yourself running your fingers through his hair, you did prefer it messy. Your body was naturally arching into him. His hands were only on your back, and his lips were only on yours, but you felt him all over your body. There was a need to have him. Your body wanted what it wanted, and you wanted what you wanted, and Frank just happened to be the answer for both.

“We should,” you whimper as his mouth places open mouth kisses on your neck. His fingers moving on the back of your neck, but his thumb rubs over the top, and a lewd mewl rings up to the ceiling, “Frank, we should…we should cook supper,” you gulp as he pulls back. The last thing you wanted to cook supper. But he made a promise to Mary and Roberta, and you were going to make sure that he fulfilled it. What you really wanted was for him to either bend you over the counter, sink into the floor with you, or throw you over his shoulder as he carried you into the bedroom.

“I’m sorry, it’s not really what I want to do,” you look down to the floor as your cheeks heat up. You are mortified at what you just admitted. It seemed like things were moving so fast. But you wanted him, you wanted Frank so bad. Wanted him more from the moment his skin touched you. It was like fire on your body, and you were struggling to stay on task of cooking supper.

It was what you should do, right? You shouldn’t rush into sex. Even if it felt like you and Frank had been playing this flirting game for most of the year. Had already spent the night in his bed. There was something with Frank that just felt right. And you wanted it. It was the one good thing that time with Bucky had taught you, and that was what your body was feeling was okay. And it was okay to act on those feelings.

Taking a deep gulp, you go to walk around Frank, but those hands slide around your waist, “Frank…”

“I want it, too. You don’t have to be ashamed.”

“And it’s not going too fast?” You peek around your shoulder, looking up at him, and his cock twitches in his pants. God, you looked amazing. Felt even better, and he hated himself for not acting on this sooner.

“No. No, I think we earned the right to go fast,” you giggle, looking up at him. “You gotta stop that.”

“Stop what?”

He blows a puff of air out his mouth, covering your entire face with his hand, and you continue laughing, “You know what you’re doing, Miss Honey.”

“Oh? We’re going with formal names, Mr. Adler,” he drops his hand, and the two of you share a quick look, before you quickly get out of his embrace, and walk to the stove. “So, no tree nuts. Um, I thought a quick and easy hamburgers and fries, but of course jazzed up would be nice? Oh, my bags.”

Frank smirks as you walk to get the things that you had brought. He could see the sexual tension build up. Could practically feel it radiating off you. You weren’t as reserved as you once were. There was this air of innocence, and still you knew exactly what you were doing. He walks behind you, and your back arches a moment. Turning to places his front to your back he rests his chin on your shoulder, smoothing his hands over your hip.

Frank notices the slight change in your face when he presses too hard on your hips, but makes no comment. Just enjoys the random sway of your body, making your ass rub over his crotch. He was ruined. This felt natural, and he can imagine you here every day doing just this. Could already see your belly swollen while he rubs over it. It felt right. It shouldn’t feel this comfortable but it does.

Frank returns from taking Roberta and Mary their plates, while you were finishing up cleaning the kitchen, “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I should do it. I made a mess, and you,” you always forget how tall Frank is as he steps in front of you, and your eyes roll up to meet him. “Frank, I want you to kiss me.”

“Good,” he answers breathlessly, crashing his mouth into yours. It was the kiss that changed everything. There was no going back, and you didn’t even care. His hands graze down your back, landing at your ass before he pulls you up to him. “Is this where this is going?”

“Yeah,” you breathe in his mouth, moving your lips to his neck as he walks you into the bedroom. Crawling the two of you to the bed where you immediately start undoing his shirt. Letting your fingers run up and down his chiseled chest, before he was pulling the shirt off. Lifting you up, to pull off your shirt, and he growls at the site of your tits, and they are still covered.

Reaching behind your back, you unclasp your bra, and his hands move to kneading your tits. Pulling him closer to yours, you were aching for him. He leans down to kiss along the supple skin of your breast, and you forget how to breathe. Your body arches into him, and your legs even spread more, letting his jean covered crotch grind into you.

He was basically dry humping you, and you felt his bulge right at your entrance. Whimpering up his name, you start undoing his pants. There was enough foreplay, right now, you just wanted Frank. Needed him. Needed to feel what he felt like inside of you. Upon pulling his jeans down, you tug at his boxers, yelping when the weight of his cock falls on your thigh. “Frank!”

“I know. I know,” he whispers on your neck, his own hands getting rid of what little was left separating the two of you. Lifting your ass up to make things easier, and he slips your jeans and panties off in one swipe. Licking at his hand, he rubs it over your sex, and both of you moan at the feeling. Screaming out his name again, and he looks down at where the two of your nether regions were just right there at each other.

Gripping the base of his cock, he runs it through your glistening folds, “You always get this wet?”

“You’ve been edging me all night.”

“I’ve been…been edging you,” he only teases his mushroom tip in, before pulling out, and slapping it over your clit. Choosing to ignore the bruises on your body for now. You were clenching around nothing. Your fingers reach up to him, and you were so cute when you were desperate. Pushing back into your heat, he pulls out. Your body was trying to suck him into your core, while you were just whining.

“I have had your ass on me most of the evening. And I was edging you. Nope,” he does it again, and you scream out in frustration. “You’re worked up Miss Honey,” you sit up, and look down your body and how Frank was just running his tip through your slicked up pussy lips. His precum making a mess, and your hole was being neglected.

“Frank, please, I need you,” he pushes in a bit further, but pulls out completely, and you push him off you, throwing your leg over him, and you press your hands against his chest, “I’ll do it myself,” grabbing the base of his cock, you slide yourself over him. Humming at the feeling. Sinking down slowly so you feel every part of him stretch you out, but you don’t stop until you rest on his pelvis.

The two of you just staring at one another while you get adjusted to him. Giving a few filthy grinds before you smile at him, “You fit perfectly in me,” he nods his head excitedly, starting to sit up in the bed. Bringing himself right up to you, and he cups your cheek. “Wh-what are you doing?”

“I don’t want to be too far away from you. Can you…?” You pull yourself off him before slamming right back down on him, and Frank nods. “Yeah. Yeah, you got this,” he stutters, watching you slowly sink over him. You wanted this moment to last. You needed something slow paced, where you learned Frank like this.

Your tits were right in his face, and he didn’t have anything better to do than to suck on your hardened buds. Those pretty baby blue eyes rolling up to look at you. His tongue and mouth work your nipple so good while your hips pull him in and out of you. “Frank,” you moan, slowing down even more. All night. You wanted to feel him all night.

“I know,” he answers, pulling your tit out with a pop. “We’re alone until noon tomorrow. You just have fun. Do what…whatever you want. Fuck. It’s been awhile. Fuck,” he grunts again, lifting up his hips to twist you on your back. Never leaving from inside your warmth. You fit him like a glove. He picks up the pace, rutting into you. His thumb creates tight little circles on your bundle of nerves. “My refractory period is quite short. We can do it again.”

“I don’t care as long as we can do it again.”

“Fuck!” His eyes roll into the back of his head as he starts railing into you. A beating pace that you didn’t want to come down from. Heat blooms in the pit of your stomach, and you smile up at him.

“Right there, Frank. Don’t stop. Don’t…” you bite at your lip as your walls lock around him. Pulling him down for a bruising kiss as your cunt milks his cock dry. Thick creamy cum filling up your cunt, and while fast, this was the best you had ever felt. “Frank,” your voice was wrecked, and you couldn’t wait to do this again. You hoped he had you twisted and hanging off the bed, you didn’t care what he did as long as he did it again.

“Shh, let me get you cleaned up. Get us some water and snacks. It’s going to be a long night.”

Still naked, his tight little ass walks through the house, and your eyes start to close. You could get used to him. Rules of being his kid’s teacher be damned, because you wanted him. You didn’t want just sex, you wanted him, and everything he had to offer, including Mary.

Bucky takes a long drag on his cigarette, pulling his phone up to his ear, “Find all you can on Frank Adler.”

“Why?”

“He’s fucking what belongs to me. And I’m going to have fun reminding her of who she belongs to. She can’t get away with trying to screw me over. She wants to act like a little slut. I’ll treat her like a little slut. I’ve got some videos. Maybe we need a private viewing of Miss Honey’s fucked out cunt leaking of my cum. Watch her lick the floor where I spilled out of her. See how tears mess up her makeup as her pussy gets a beating from my cock and those pretty tits just bounce around, and how she screams for more. Wonder how the dad’s in her classroom will feel about that sweet little teacher then. Make Frank watch as I loan her body out to each one of those dads. I’m tired of being nice. She’s been a very very bad girl. And now, it’s time for her to take her punishment.”

Masterlist

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#entangled lust #frank adler #frank adler x reader #frank adler x fem!reader #frank adler x y/n #frank adler x you #frank adler smut #frank adler fanfiction #frank adler fic #frank adler fics #gifted #gifted movie #chris evans #bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes

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grippingbeskar · 1 year

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salt ice and fire | frank castle

chapter twenty four - tied down

frank castle x fem!reader

warnings: explicit content minors dni (oral f receiving, implied smut, mxf, frank and his dirty mouth hngggg) swearing, canon typical violence

a/n: i have no words. this chapter made me want to pull my hair out writing it I HOPE ITS GOOD FML.

[series masterlist] [previous chapter]

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The sun was already setting, giving Frank enough cover to drag Bobby Gnucci’s thrashing body down an alley to the drop off point. He was still gagged, hands and feet tied together, and Frank must of made good time because Madani wasn’t here yet. Which meant he’d have to stand here and wait, wasting time while you sat in the car.

Bobby started making muffled noises, and Frank stood over him, hands grabbing him by his collar and yanking him to stand. He pulls the gag out of his mouth, pushing his palm in his face, keeping him flat on the brick wall.

“You wanna talk so bad, huh? What do you have to say? You wanna offer me another deal?” Bobby strains against his hand, but Frank still feels too strong. Even without it he could hold this guy down as long as he wanted.

“You can’t— hand me over to them. They’ll kill me in there.” He says, and it makes Frank laugh.

“What makes you think I’m not gonna do the same thing the minute this is all over?” He feels him swallow, and then drops his elbow into his chest. “You better hope you die in there. Maybe someone’ll take pity on you, make it quick. Cause if they don’t, I’ll find a way. No matter where they lock you up, where they send you, there’s no where they can shove you that I won’t find you. And when I come for you, that shit won’t be quick.”

Bobby doesn’t say anything else, and Frank drops his limp body to the ground as he hears a car pull up behind him. Madani is quick to get out first, followed by about eight guys in all black riot gear, M16 rifles already aimed.

“He’s alive?” She asks, bending down to examine the half bleeding body that is Bobby Gnucci.

“Alive enough.” Frank moves in front of him when Madani sends an order to her men. “Hold on.”

“Seriously? This is—“

“You take him, and I want your fucking word that this is the last thing you ask her to do. You’ve got your information, got your statements. Anything else, you can call Murdock for it. She’s done.”

“And you?” She steps back, assessing him. “You really think you can leave this behind?”

“This isn’t about me.”

“Isn’t it? It always seems to come back to you.” Frank steps to the side in response, letting the riot guys haul Bobby’s body into the back of the van. “It’s good— to see you not alone.”

“Whatever, I’m goin—“

“It’s not a bad thing, Frank.” There was so much shit between the two of them, but he thinks that’s the closest thing to a compliment she’s ever given him. She throws him a set of keys. “You two keep out of this, and we’re even. That’s the keys to a new place— off the record. You have my word.”

Frank nods, starting to walk away. “Thanks, Madani.”

“Don’t get all sentimental.” She says before turning back, sending more orders flying to her men before getting back in the car.

Frank doesn’t feel any different. About seven times on the way up here he thought about turning around and ending it right there. It would be so easy. This guy he’d been chasing for months was in the back of his car, and he wanted it so bad it was weighing on him. Even then, Bobby was isolated and alone, Frank could have taken him out easily.

Back in the base, too. Frank couldn’t stop himself, thought he wouldn’t be able to stop himself once he found him. He threw him against the wall when he finally tracked him down, punched him so hard in the stomach he could feel the man’s spine crack against his knuckles. He didn’t want to stop. He hurt you— hurt you so bad you were still scared of that fucking room. He watched how your eyes changed when you realised where you were on that monitor. It fucking broke him.

Bobby should be dead, but if he had to choose between you and revenge, he would choose you. Maybe it was because if he could turn back time, he’d change his choices. Or fuck, maybe he had just changed. Or maybe he was still just selfish. Whatever it was, he had you now. No fuckin’ deadlines or missing kids or Colonels or bombs. He felt like he had all the time in the world with you right now. Like he could finally start to do this right. You deserved that, at least.

He could see you sitting in the car, those stupid sunglasses on your head, staring at him out the window. You’d been watching the whole thing, of course you had. He was surprised you’d even stayed in the car that long. When he finally reached you, starting the car, it didn’t take you long to break the silence he’d created.

“So?”

“What?” You furrowed your eyebrows, tilting your head like he was purposefully fucking with you.

“What happened?! Did she say anything? Did…did he?” Frank sneaks a look at you, watching you run your hand through your hair.

“He’s a man of few words now.” Sighing at Franks dry sense of humour, you roll your eyes and sit a little more relaxed in the seat. “It’s fine. We’re done.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that. You did enough, and Murdock’ll fill in the rest.”

“And you’re okay with that?” You ask tentatively.

“With letting him live? No fuckin’ way.” He says through nearly clenched teeth. Then he looks at you again, and takes a breath. “But that’s the way it’s gotta be right now.”

“Thank you.” You breathe and Frank shakes his head. “You heard anything about Sam recently? How he’s doing?”

“Last I heard he was learning how to make somethin’ called Piroshki.” You laugh, asking what the hell that was, and Frank shrugs. “He’s fine. Lovin’ it in Florida. Safe, too.”

“Good. That’s… I’m glad.” Frank can tell you’re just thinking about how far away that is, and how soon you can see him again, but this all needs to be done and dusted before you can risk bringing Sam back. Frank doesn’t trust they’ll be able to keep Bobby for good, and he can’t have any loose ends around a kid.

You go quiet for the rest of the car ride, eventually falling asleep to the low hum of the engine. Frank sneaks looks at you whenever he could— relaxed, eyes closed and dreaming. He watched you sleep too often, but it was becoming his favourite past time. Peaceful.

He made sure to hit every red light for you on the way home so you could enjoy it, knowing when you woke up he wouldn’t be letting you sleep all night.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“They were merging, Frank. Their lane was ending.”

“They were assholes. Went up on the fucking curb. They can wait.” He grumbles, pressing on the horn again and making you laugh.

“That’s a little dramatic.” You say over the loud noise, unable to hide your smile at how genuinely pissed off he looks.

“Good. They’ll get the message.” He beeps again, and the car trying to push in front of him breaks, flipping him off as he flies past them. “See?”

Before you can answer he swings the car around to an unfamiliar apartment block. You know Frank had places all around, and considering the last place he had was set on fire— it makes sense this place is new.

“Top floor, sweetheart. Come on.” Frank says, suddenly swinging open your door and herding you like a dog. He’s got two bags swung around his shoulders, and his hand is wrapped around the handle of the door so tight you are pretty sure he’s going to rip it off.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” You step out of the car, but hold him by the shoulders, pressing his back to the closed door. He tries to shake you off but you hold him down, one hand on his jaw and getting on your toes to look into his eyes.

“I’m fine.” Both of his hands touch your face, his movements gentle and caring. “Stop worryin’.”

“Because you never do? Same guy who told me sit and look pretty in the front seat of the car while you did the hand over about thirty seconds ago?” He shrugs, hands dropping to your hips and hauling you against him. “Give me a break.”

“You did look pretty.” He says in your ear, the smile on his face ringing through his tone. “Real fuckin’ pretty.”

“Oh?” He hums. Your heart bangs against your rib cage as you feel his thumbs slip under your shirt, smoothing over your hip bones.

“Yeah. You’re driving me fucking crazy out here lookin’ like that.” He bends down, the heat of his breath brushing against your neck. It’s followed by his mouth, a sweet short kiss just under your jaw. It’s enough to make you shudder, the things you’d gone through in the past few days making it feel like years since you had him like this. “Look at me.”

You look up, and his eyes are focused on you. It’s almost intimidating. You always forget how big he is until he’s staring down at you. Suddenly it’s like it’s that first time again, watching him make his way around the table, knowing exactly what he wants and exactly how to get it. This time, though, it’s not need that clouds his eyes. It’s something gentle, but harder and more urgent.

“I’m not letting you outta my sight again.” He kisses your forehead, breathing in deep. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to let this shit go.”

“You trust Madani?” He nods, once. “Then let it play out. We hear anything go wrong, and we can handle it. We got him once, right? We can do it again.”

“You’ll never have to see him again.” There’s a look in his eyes, one you associate with dark rooms, the metallic smell of blood and gunpowder. You don’t question it, just lean into him more.

“I know. Now, go back to telling me how pretty I look.” You tug on his hair, grinning at his laugh.

“I can show you.” His hands disappear completely under your shirt, exploring the bare skin of your lower back and under your ribs. “You gonna let me be good to you?”

It should be impossible for his voice to be so quiet, but still vibrate through you, sending a shiver up your spine.

“Mhmm. Maybe— Frank!” He all but chucks you over his shoulder, picking you up in one arm and walking towards the door. You don’t see much of the lobby, not that you really give a shit what it looks like. It doesn’t really matter where he’s taking you— as long as he kept smiling like he was now, and the light feeling in your head and chest floated all the way there.

You were nearly dizzy when he finally cleared the stairs, still holding you in one arm like you weighed nothing to him. Maybe you did— you had no fucking clue what level he was at, and how fast his body would get rid of the blood in his system. Either way he was feeling good enough to unlock the door, drop the bags and slam you up against the wall.

He kisses you like you’ve deprived him of it— all teeth and tongue searching for purchase against each other. His hands are a little rougher, the need in his movements setting you on fire. His body is pressing you tightly to the wall, your arms only able to lift above your head as he rips your shirt over it. Your breathless sighs fill the room when he drags his mouth down, kissing you everywhere while keeping you pinned. You let your hands fall down, wanting to hurry this up and take his shirt off too, but he grabs both your wrists and keeps them up above your head.

“Stay.” He grumbles against your collarbone, licking his way down to where he’s torn your bra off. His teeth graze lightly over your nipple, eyes blazing into your own when you squirm and say his name. He sucks marks onto your skin, working his way across your chest. When he switches, you forget where you are, and your hands drop again.

This time, he’s a lot quicker and a little harsher with it. Never enough to hurt, but enough to make a point that he wants you to stay put. He keeps his hand on your wrists now, pressing the backs of them to the cold brick. He groans, pressing his forehead to your chest. You watch his back, still covered by his shirt, but even through it you can see his muscles contract as he takes slow, deep breaths.

“Fucking stay.” He drags his teeth along the skin he’s paid so much attention to, making you squirm again.

“Or what? You’ll tie me up?” Your head falls back, resting against your pinned arms.

“You want me to?” His head is still buried at your chest, staring down at his shoes, and how he’s kicked your legs apart. “Least I could take my time with you without your fuckin’ attitude for three seconds.”

“Do it, then.” That makes him peak up, a smirk on his face. “If you’re man enough, that is.”

“That’s how it is, gorgeous?” His hand drops yours, both coming to your hips and lifting you up. Your legs wrap around him, completely trusting him as he leads you further into the apartment with your back to the open space.

“That’s how it is.” You try to hold your grin, watching the hard set of his face train completely on you.

Instead of answering, he groans against your bare skin, the wet heat of his mouth making you slump forward to chase his touch. When you walk through a doorway, you only notice because it gets a little darker, and the air is a little warmer. Your eyes shut, content to feel him lather you with attention as he lays you down, rough hands grabbing your forearms and holding them above your head.

“Stay there.” He says against your mouth, and then you hear the all too familiar clink of his belt buckle. The sound has like a Pavlov effect on you— your stomach tightening and head buzzing as soon as you hear it. With your eyes closed, though, you don’t know where he’s at, and then cool leather is skating along your stomach, the cold metal on your wrists.

He’s using his fucking belt. Tying you down, making sure you don’t move. There’s a second when his hands are at your wrists, threading through the headboard and linking around you that he hesitates. His fingers touch at the old scars— hardly visible now, but it doesn’t mean they aren’t there.

“You sure, baby?” He kisses your cheek, pulling lightly at the belt.

“I trust you.” He kisses the opposite cheek, then tugs the belt. “Tighter.”

“Fucking hell.” He groans, pulling it again. He catches your eyes, and when he looks at you like that everything else ceases to exist. “You always get what you want, huh?”

His hands hook under your jeans and underwear, yanking them down in one strong tug. It should take him longer, but he doesn’t even fiddle with the zipper. The fabric rips, splits under his touch and all but shreds as he chucks it somewhere into the dim abyss of the room. He grabs your legs, and throws them over his shoulders, holding you down as you yelp with surprise when he buries his face between your legs.

He’s usually such a mix between tease and gentleman— working you up until your nearly begging for it, but he doesn’t have the patience right now. His tongue is deliciously hot, licking you in rhythmic strokes like he’s playing the guitar. You sing for him with each movement, shuddering when his mouth wraps around your clit, pleasure shocking through you.

Your hands pull at the belt above you, hearing the leather stretch and wood creak. Franks head doesn’t move, his mouth doesn’t quip with a remark, not even when you cry out— chest nearly bursting with how good it feels. He groans when you say his name, the sound making you writhe harder against the restraint. You asked for this, but it doesn’t take away how much you want to tug on his hair, flip him over and fuck him until he can’t see straight.

“Frank— please let me touch you.” You say all at once, the sentence more of a ramble. You try to move under him, but he’s so strong, determined to make you sit there and take it. Let him have what he needs, do what he wants… the very idea has your eyes rolling back in your head, back arching.

“No.” He moves up the bed nearly bending you in half, tongue swirling in patterns that have you seeing stars. You can hear his staggered breathing, feel his chest and back expanding in between your thighs, spreading you open. Your hands latch onto the headboard, nails cutting their way through the wood as the heat in your belly spreads all over.

“Please, baby.” The shattered tone of your voice makes his eyes look up, even if they’re unfocused.

“You want out?” One of his hands replaces his mouth, curling against something fucking devastating inside you, your whimpered moans giving him enough of an answer. “That’s what I thought. You like this, don’t you?”

“Feels s’good.” You mumble into the pillows. You lose him again, along with all sense of direction when his mouth comes back to your clit. He finds a rhythm again, one he knows all too well will make you shatter completely. “You’re so good. So good— please.”

“Mhmm.” The hand around your waist grips you harder, his hand smacking your ass lightly. You jolt towards him, some kind of red fuelling your vision. You were so close— you needed to feel him under your hands, a need so strong you were almost positive you could snap the leather of his thick belt if you wanted.

But there was something else, something that made you wait until he let you out. The idea that you knew he would let you out— he would remember. He never wouldn’t let you out, and it’s the exact reason you want it to be him that decides. Even if you want to rip this headboard to shreds and flip him over.

You gasp when you feel his hand take over again, the speed and harshness of it buffered by the way he was kissing your hips, mouthing the soft skin of your lower stomach that felt like it was about to burst with pleasure and heat. You couldn’t think of anything other than his touch, body going limp under him.

“That’s right— fuck you look so good right now.” You keen under him, teetering on the edge. “Ohh, you like that too, huh? Like hearing how good you look?”

“Yes! Yes, fuck Frank.”

“Such a pretty girl— so good. You’re gonna cum aren’t you?” His words hit the sensitive skin on your inner thighs, sending you into orbit and your head spinning in some kind of unfamiliar, warm space. You could only nod, high pitched whining sounds telling him everything he wants to here. “So good, baby. Cum for me and I’ll let you out. Fuck you how you want me to.”

The feeling overtakes you, letting yourself sink completely into his words and the over mounting pleasure. He holds you down, moving back and pressing you into the mattress. You’re faintly aware he’s looming over you, watching how you tug worthlessly at the belt he tied. You moan loudly, and he bends down, shushing you with sweet kisses.

When you feel yourself coming back, eyes blinking open, he’s right there— he’s always right there where you want him. His hands leave your sides, reaching up above your head, metal clinking above you.

“You’re so perfect, baby. So good to me.” He says, words stuttered through kisses and glimpses up to the belt. With one hand, he undoes it, and watching him sends a whole other round of butterflies off in your stomach.

As soon as your hand are free you’re on him, tearing his shirt over his head. His skin is warm, and your nails drag up over his spine into his hair, tugging. His hairs gotten longer now, long enough to twirl around your fingers, and he grunts when you pull him down, controlling where he goes. You kiss him hard— bruising, almost. Then you make good on all those thoughts, flipping him under you in one movement.

“Fuck.” He mutters against your mouth, and you smile a little.

You shift your hips over his, straddling him. You can feel him through his sweats, ruining the fabric when you sit down and grind against him. He groans at the feeling, his head falling back.

“Let—“ You shake your head, both hands pressed to his chest.

“Let me fuck you. How you want.” You pull his pants down the rest of the way and quickly slide a condom on, watching his face as your soft hands squeeze him lightly. The belt catches your eye, forcing a smile on your face. “Unless you need to be tied down.”

“Shut up.” He yanks you down to kiss you, and even though you’re on top of him, he fucks you. Hard.

You can’t help the loud sounds that fall from your lips, and he swallows them eagerly. They only urge him on, his hips driving up so hard and fast it’s nearly impossible to do anything to live up to your words. He takes you apart, bends your will in ways you don’t want to understand, but it’s just so easy to give it to him. Let him in, when all you tried to do was keep everyone out. His hands fist tight in your hair, the other across your lower back, hitting you so deep you know you’ll feel him for days. You hope he never stops, the white hot bliss in your chest bursting out in long, loud moans.

“Be loud, baby. No one else is coming. Just you and me.” He whispers to you, making you shudder in his arms. “You feel so fucking good. So fucking good—“

“Oh god, Frank—“

“Take it. Fuck, you do it so well.” He doesn’t shut up, grinding up into you, the friction tearing you apart in the best way.

The grip behind your head turns to fingers smoothing over, the gentle side of him giving you whiplash compared to how hard he’s fucking you. He kisses you softly, and you manage to open your eyes just for a second, your foreheads pressed together.

He doesn’t have to say it, you can see it in his eyes. You have no idea how you didn’t pick it before, how it took you so long to name the way he looks at you. Now you’ve seen it, now you know what that is, there’s nothing else it could be but complete adoration. Love.

He flips you over, his cock never leaving you and keeping that punishing pace as he takes even more control. You can feel it building again— that hum of pleasure surging in your veins, overtaking your ability to keep your eyes open.

“I’m so close, sweetheart. Your so—fuck, so tight. You feel me here?” His hand drops, pressing on your lower belly and you say his name— scream it so your new neighbours know exactly who’s fucking you. “Fuck…fuck. Fuck!”

The weight of him holds you down as your orgasm renders you weak and boneless, holding the grip in his hair so tight you swears your knuckles will split. His voice shudders and hitches, a complete lack of control washes over his face, the sight nearly making you cum again. His hips still, warmth blooming in your stomach as you both ride out your highs simultaneously.

Above you, he’s just about the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Don’t move yet.” He says, hands holding your body close. You’re curled up in bed— your bed. He’s behind you, arms wrapped around your waist, the other around your chest.

“Can’t. Even if I wanted to.” His nose drags along your spine, lips trailing behind.

“Baby, if I—“

“You didn’t hurt me. You never hurt me.” His hand cups your jaw, turning you to face him. Then, his thumb traces that tiny little scar on your face, his own looking at you a little pained. “Why are you so obsessed with that?”

“I hate knowin’ I did it.” You turn over, your face inches from his.

“Frank. That was so long ago, and don’t you remember what I did to you? Your arm shattered.”

“It doesn’t matter. You didn’t have a choice, but I did. And I hurt you.” Guilt. He was fucking riddled with it, you could tell. It wasn’t even just you, you know that, but he was so used to stacking mistake after mistake on top of each other, shoving it down inside him— but this one was on your face, something he looked at all the time. Studied. Loved.

“You are the only person who ever came back for me. Helped me. We had a weird start, I’ll give you that—“ He smiles, a sight for your half closed eyes. “—but please, do not add me to that weight on your shoulders. I love you. And that stupid scar is nothing to me. Not as long as it meant I get this.”

“Too good to me.” His head is buried under your chin, hiding his face because he must know you’re right.

He has to know that you wouldn’t change a thing— even if it meant a thousand more years, you would wait, go through all that shit again if he was at the end. He was the prize at the end of a long fucking race, but no matter how much your chest aches and your legs burned, you’d sprint the whole way to get to it.

“What do we do now?” You whisper, the room nearly pitch black now. “You gonna get a job? Wear a suit and tie?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Giggling, the dark room letting you picture him perfectly in a suit.

“You’d look good.” He groans, pulling you closer.

“Cause you’d be so happy being a housewife— sittin’ around waitin’ for me to get home. Yeah, right.” Laughing louder, he just groans again. “Who gives a shit what we do? We’ll figure it out.”

“I guess we have time. He’s not going on trial for another week, right?” Frank nods. “Shit. I wonder how we’re gonna fill our time in here…”

“I’m gonna let that go, because I know you need a second. When I get back, you better be all nice and sweet.”

“Or what?” You hum, and somewhere in the room he picks up the belt buckle and throws it on the bed before he nips at your collarbone before he gets up and walks out of the room.

You flip onto your back, closing your eyes and letting all your thoughts rush back to your brain.It’s almost too easy to not think with Frank, but you can’t fight them off when he’s not there. These ones though, these thoughts coming to you in the safety of this room— your shared room, are good ones.

You see flashes of it. It used to be a far off dream, but you have time now. Time to think about it— Frank coming back to you, maybe in a suit, maybe covered in blood. It doesn’t matter, cause you would be there, wherever he is because you want to be. It’s the only place you’d want to be. You play it over in your head, what he said.

You know you probably don’t want to sit around in an apartment all day. You have that same burn he does— especially knowing Bobby’s still alive. But, for right now, you’d sit at home all day if he was coming through the door at the end of it. Besides, what he called you didn’t sound all bad. House-wife.

You could work with that.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

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spaceprincessem · 2 years

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but it’s all coming back to me || 3.5k buddie fic || ao3 link

Eddie is having a bad day, Christopher and Buck show him how Celine Dion can help

It’s a bad day.

And Eddie knows that it’s just part of the job. That not everyday can be their family laughing over the dinner table with Bobby’s famous mac and cheese. Calls that leave them snickering in the truck out of sheer ridiculousness or ones that have his adrenaline pumping so fast Eddie feels a little breathless, but smiling because he knows Buck is by his side. Everyday can’t be Hen and Chim cornering Ravi about his mystery date and Bobby rolling his eyes fondly because all of them are being insufferable. And while most days don’t flay him open, reaching right through his sternum to rip out his beating heart, the days that do hit a little bit harder.

He’s been anticipating a bad day. He’s told Frank as much since he’s been back with the 118. It’s normal, Frank assures him, to be nervous about those kind of days. Now that Eddie feels a little more, represses a little less, the bad days leave him feeling a little too heavy. Crawling into bed after the shift is a battle, but getting out of bed to do anything is impossible. It leaves him feeling even shittier when Christopher hugs him goodbye before school. He should be able to function, to at least get his son where he needs to be, but his veins are filled with concrete and it’s easier to sink further into the mattress, beneath his shame and guilt than to get up and face the day.

“Hey,” Buck smiles as he runs his hand through Eddie’s mussed hair, “it’s okay, Eds, you rest and I’ll take Superman to school.”

“I should—”

“You don’t have to climb all your mountains in one day,” Buck scratches at Eddie’s scalp lightly.

Eddie wants to cry, but he blinks back the tears, saving them for when he’s alone. He swallows back his weak protest and nods, lets Buck take care of him like he knows he’s allowed to.

Eddie’s not quite sure how Buck is standing after a shift like that. They had the kind of call that they all know will stick with them for weeks. The one that leaves them in a haunting silence on the way back to the station, flitting through the rest of their shifts like ghosts put on autopilot. Eddie bolted from the truck as soon as they were back, heaving the contents of his stomach for a solid two minutes. He’s pretty sure the only reason he made it to the showers was the familiar, warm hand on his shoulder, the small of his back, that guided him there. Buck came over to Eddie’s without question. He almost asked Buck to come to bed with him, just so he could have something to hold onto, just so he could take away the exhausted and pained expression in his best friend’s eyes. But there are some things Eddie isn’t quite brave enough to ask for yet, so Buck crashes on the couch and Eddie collapses into bed, falling into a restless and miserable sleep.

Buck cons him into drinking a smoothie he picked up on the way back from dropping Christopher off, but he doesn’t leave the bed. He fades in and out to the sound of Buck doing laundry or washing dishes or talking to Maddie on the phone. At some point he smells cookies and his eyes go a little misty when he hears Christopher’s delighted laughter when Buck says he can sneak one in before dinner. Somewhere between Christopher finishing his homework and asking to watch an episode of his television show Eddie finally manages to find the willpower to get out of bed. He still feels a little off balanced, a little shaken from the things that live behind his eyelids, but he’s standing, and that’s a start. He fishes a hoodie out of his dresser, one that’s slightly too big and smells a little like pine, which means it must be Buck’s. He slips it on, feeling a warmth bloom in his chest as he makes his way into the living room. Buck and Christopher are playing rock paper scissors to decide whether they should have pasta or tacos for dinner and when Eddie enters the room Buck spots him first, his lips curling into a smile that reminds Eddie of the sun.

“Hey Eds,” Buck says before he frowns at Christopher’s excited whoop, “I guess we’re having pasta for dinner.”

“Don’t forget the garlic bread,” Christopher states importantly, “that’s the best part.”

“Eddie,” Buck says in a mock serious tone, “you really have to teach your kid that cheating is bad, there’s no way he can win rock paper scissors every time.”

“Hey,” Christopher says before falling over into a fit of giggles.

“Oh,” Eddie smiles for the first time today, small, but soft, “I think he learned that from you,” he points at Buck, who pretends to be scandalized by the accusation, causing Christopher to laugh even harder.

“Eddie,” Buck slaps a hand over his chest, “you wound me.”

He gets up from the couch, his shoulder brushing Eddie’s as he makes his way into the kitchen. Eddie grabs his wrist, frowning as Buck turns to face him, “Do you need any help?”

“Nah,” Buck says, his fingers gently smoothing the frown lines away, “just relax with Chris, I think I can handle dinner.”

His fingers drop so that he can give Eddie’s hand a reassuring squeeze and Eddie’s pretty fucking sure he’s so close to blurting out something embarrassing like do you know how much I love you? But Buck’s already heading into the kitchen and Eddie takes a deep breath to control the hurricane of emotions swirling in his chest. He sinks down onto the couch and Christopher lets him cuddle close as they watch an episode of Digimon because, apparently, it was Buck’s favorite show as a kid, so naturally Christopher has to watch it too. Eddie doesn’t feel magically better, but the ache in his chest quiets to a dull hum. The sound of Buck moving about in the kitchen soothes some of his frayed nerves and he settles further into his seat, letting the warmth from Buck’s sunshine smile, of Christoper pressed into his side seep some of the chill out of his bones.

When dinner is ready he pushes most of it around his plate. Forces himself to eat enough to stop Buck from giving him worried glances over the table. He quietly listens to Buck and Christopher debate whether sharks are actually fish or not (to which Eddie has no fucking clue where to begin on that subject) smiling to himself when both boys gesture wildly between them to articulate their points.

“Buck,” Christopher says as he deposits his napkin onto his empty plate.

“Yeah, buddy,” Buck hums as he begins to clean up, waving off Eddie’s weak protest that he can at least do the dishes since Buck cooked.

“I think we should take dad for a drive.”

Eddie blinks a few times, not sure he heard Christopher correctly.

“You know,” Buck grins, his head popping back in from the kitchen, “I was just thinking the same thing.”

Eddie shakes his head, wonders if he accidentally fell asleep, “What?”

“A drive, dad,” Christopher repeats, “Buck and I take them when we’re feeling sad.”

Eddie ducks his head and tries to hastily wipe the tears pooling in his eyes. The ache in his chest comes back tenfold, but it’s dulled by the warmth he feels from Buck and Christopher still softly smiling at him. He knows it’s okay to be sad and for his son to know he’s not hiding, but he’s still working to untangle all his messy feelings and his even messier head.

“Sure,” his voice wavers a little, “a drive sounds nice.”

read the rest on ao3

#buddie #911 fox #eddie diaz #evan buckley #christopher diaz #buckley diaz family #911 #fanfic

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unpassive-viewer · 11 months

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Kings of Summer (2013) Review

“Hey Joe? Did you know we’ve been walking for half a mile? I can tell by how much we’ve bonded.” - Biaggio

“He took the Monopoly, too. As a way to spite me.” - Frank Toy

Hey gang, wow. It’s been like... eight months since I was here last. Still no Northman review in the works. To be honest I sort of forgot I had this account. I started grad school in January, so my other passion projects sort of went out the window.

Instead of reviewing a movie that anyone remembers or is in theatres, I’m going to review/break down one of my favourites - Kings of Summer. I don’t think that many people know this one. It was Nick Robinson pre-Love Simon. I have endless love for this film. It feels like a warm hug. Every time I need to bring myself back to reality or chill the hell out, I watch this film. Considering the whole grad school thing, it’s likely I’ll need to watch it again pretty soon.

The movie follows three teenagers who are frustrated with their families and decide to build a house in the woods to escape them for a summer. It’s a coming of age story about navigating relationships, self-discovery and growing up. Sounds simple enough, right? But this film is so much more than a typical attempt at engaging a teenage audience. In addition to the coming of age element, it’s also a look at a father/son relationship that’s on the rocks, as they tend to be when you’re 15. I really believe it has something for everyone, it is so funny and so wholesome.

The cast is “star-studded” in the best way. Nick Robinson (as mentioned), Alison Brie, Nick Offerman, Megan Mullally, Moises Arias (maybe better known as Rico from Hannah Montanna), Lilli Reinhart (Riverdale), Erin Moriarty (The Boys), Marc Evan Jackson (Kevin from B99), Eugene Cordero, and Hannibal Buress and Kumail Nanjiani in smaller roles, among others. All of the adult actors are pretty established in comedy, and bring really interesting depth to the characters they embody.

The soundtrack is fantastic. Like I could not think of better music for a coming of age movie. I regularly listen to it while studying or writing papers. ( https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2c86gY4Ehvpngyxx8LwnTX?si=c2f2381ee3c2468f for anyone interested).

The art direction is phenomenal as well. This movie is very close to Arrival in that watching it feels like taking a breath of fresh air. There are so many shots that seem to place you into a cool summer evening in the woods. They remind me so much of the summers of my childhood, where I’d be out before noon and come home as the streetlights turned on.

And it is funny. The humour is very much typical of Nick Offerman, paired with capitalizing on tension and awkwardness among all the characters. It gives me a little secondhand embarrassment, but some of the most effective humour is within the scenes you sort of wish would just end.

So, clearly I’m already biased to this film. It’s in my top five movies of all time, if that says anything.

From here on is more of an analysis, so spoilers inbound:

I’m going to organize the content of this movie into two sections - one which will follow the standard three-act play, and the other which I will affectionately label “fuck around and find out”.

Before we start, some general character sketches of everyone so I don’t have to go through the entire synopsis.

Joe Toy: Fantastical thinker, head-in-the-clouds-syndrome. Rebellious, sort of petulant, and at least in the beginning expects to be able to do whatever he wants just because he wants to. Bottom line, he’s a selfish teenager.

Patrick Keeney: Joe’s best friend. Cautious - a total reflection of his household. Patrick is caught between wanting to make Joe happy, his realistic thinking, and figuring out who he wants to be in relation to those around him.

Biaggio: A-grade comic relief. Awkward, a little strange, but very loyal. We don’t hear anything about Biaggio’s family until the last 30 minutes of the movie. We don’t find out if they anticipated his disappearance or not since he seems to trust his father, but at the very least they were not worried that he’d gone missing. We can only imagine the kind of household he lives in considering his personality and the relative ease with which he returns after being gone for three and a half weeks.

Kelly: Joe’s love interest. Clearly has her own shit going on. She opens with a boyfriend who is visibly a lot older than she is, and is working a job where she has to deal with idiots constantly. Kelly needs someone who is kind to her and treats her like a person, which is 100% not Joe for like 95% of the movie, which is probably why she ends up with Patrick.

Frank Toy: Joe’s dad, widower, typical Nick Offerman character. Headstrong and combative. Not bad, just lonely and punishing others for it.

Mr and Ms. Keeney: overbearing helicopter parents who love their son a whole lot, despite how in his business they are.

Heather: Joe’s older sister. Must be somewhat similar to her mother, based on the way that Frank describes their mother as being someone who just “let Joe be”. She’s a sort of voice of reason, but is also fed up with her father’s antics. She’s the quintessential “sibling who got out of the oppressive household” character. Often a catalyst for Frank’s realizations.

And with that, I will break down the acts and the things that I noticed. This is mostly a commentary on how the acts set one another up, and the ways they transition between one another.

Act 1: The transitions between acts are marked with the song “The Pipe”. The first time we hear this song is prior to the director giving us the first shot - it plays, and eventually opens on Joe (Nick Robinson), Patrick (Gabriel Basso) and Biaggio (Moises Arias) in what we will later learn is a flash-forward. They’re in-sync, hammering on a pipe in the middle of the woods. As any film major will say, the opening scene is always the most important of the movie. It sets up the entire rest of the film. This shot gives us an important look into their dynamic - Biaggio dancing, and Patrick and Joe complementing one another’s beats on the pipe. In this scene, they are still youthful. We then jump to “one month earlier”, with Joe in the shower dreaming about Kelly (Erin Moriarty), and Frank (Nick Offerman) pounding on the bathroom door, “you’ve been in there for fifty four, no, fifty five minutes!”. From these scenes we know several things - 1) Patrick and Joe are the best friends of the group, Biaggio is adding his very particular flare to the dynamic, 2) Kelly is Joe’s love interest, 3) Joe and Frank are at complete odds with one another. In act 1, we’re at the beginning of our character’s arcs. Joe is rebelling against his father, Frank is bringing down the hammer on his son, Patrick wants to get away from his helicopter parents, and... well, we don’t know much about Biaggio. It’s Biaggio and Joe who initially discover the clearing in the woods where they’ll build the house, and so the plan is hatched.

The crucial parts we learn in Act 1 are all the things that motivate the change which takes place in Act 2. The art direction here is more simplistic, since we’re just setting up the characters. Much of it is reflected between the beginning and ends of the narratives with the characters external to Joe; Biaggio is the first to find the clearing where they build the house, as they walk in darkness after escaping the beach party. Biaggio is conversely the last to leave, also under the cover of darkness. Patrick stumbles into the clearing with the two of them the following day, unsure of the plan, and is the one to tear a hole in the wall of the house they built together. I’m sensing metaphors all around...

Act 2: The second time we hear “The Pipe” it shepherds in Act 2. It comes after a scene with the parents of Patrick and Joe check a greyhound bus for evidence of where their children have gone, and find their phones and a single Monopoly piece. Frank’s Monopoly piece. The scene ends with Frank saying, “he’s taunting me,”. Act 2 begins with, of course, “The Pipe”. Now in the present, we return to Patrick, Joe and Biaggio at the pipe in the woods, followed by Joe’s speech about “being men and answering to no one”. This, of course, will be the catalyst to all of Joe’s character development.

The art direction begins to take on a warmer tone leading up to Act 2. The boys have broken out - they’re free, they’re having fun. There are multiple shots of the scenery, of the sunlight coming through the leaves of the trees - this is the part that really speaks to my childhood.

Act 3: Act 3 begins again with “The Pipe”, but this time we don’t see Patrick, Joe and Biaggio. The music starts after Kelly brings Frank to the hideout in the woods, and Biaggio shows up to try and redirect the attention of a copperhead that has backed Joe and Kelly into a corner. This is where we somewhat of a resolution to Joe’s struggle with his father, when they begin to work together as a team. There’s as much of a heart-to-heart as you can get between them.

Leading up to Act 3, after Joe kicks Patrick, Kelly and Biaggio from the house in the woods, the shots take a cooler tone. Joe’s scenes are overcast, whereas Patrick’s are still warm now that he’s back with his family. Patrick’s narrative at this point has mostly been based around how he’s already mature, he had much less learning to do than Joe, and could go home. Joe on the other hand suffers a radical shock to his worldview, which is reflected in the scenery. I’ll discuss in a moment the divergence between the fuck around and find out sections of the movie, but I’ll note here that Patrick’s scene immediately follows a scene showing Frank and Joe. Patrick is mirrored in the same position, but is the only one of the three who is actually happy.

The resolution to Act 3 is somewhat ambiguous. We don’t totally get resolution between Patrick, Joe, and Kelly, but we can see that there’s at least forgiveness between them. Ultimately we don’t need to, because we can see that Joe has grown up, completed his character arc, and he’s less of a petulant child than he was before. This leads essentially into my next method of breakdown:

Fuck Around/Find Out: The Frank and Joe Dichotomy

This breakdown I am making based on the character arcs of both Joe and Frank in relation to one another. This is split almost evenly 2/3 to 1/3 of the runtime, and is how we learn that Joe and his dad are very much parallel to one another. As much as Joe’s is the critical character arc, the narrative underpins the entire film. Frank is really a grown-up version of Joe, navigating his own grief and isolation, with no interest in doing any of the things that would allow him to have a better relationship with his son. They exist in opposition to one another, with Joe perpetually looking for the upper hand on his father. Even when Joe disappears, Frank maintains a “he’s messing with me” narrative, which Patrick’s parents do not have. This childish back and forth is what I’d label the “fuck around” portion of the film, which translates to at least the first 2/3.

The “find out” part of this breakdown takes place once we see that both Joe and his father are alone - physically and emotionally. Joe has cast all of his friends aside after finding out Kelly is with Patrick, and Frank is alone after Heather leaves their house with the conversation, “Heather, am I a bastard?”, “no dad, a bastard would make everyone around him miserable just because he is,”. That’s the tie between them, when both of their arcs meet - they’re both making everyone else miserable because they are.

The scene I’m most interested in is where their parallel scenes with food. Joe has run out of money for the chickens that he was “hunting” (buying form the Boston market) and elects to eat a mouse which we can assume came from inside the forest house, whereas Frank hasn’t bothered to cook anything and instead finally eats the leftover dumplings that he’d previously complained about. They are united in their pathetic meals, neither deciding to take initiative and eat something other than what’s immediately available to them. They’re feeling sorry for themselves, why would they? The scene then cuts between them, both lying on their couches, looking up towards nothing. They are both alone, and they feel it.

This is the scene I’d mentioned which leads into Patrick’s; Patrick is also reintroduced to us sleeping on a couch, but he’s the only one who is in a good mood. He’s been able to rest, and he’s given up on his idea that his parents are the villains (it’s debatable that he ever thought that in the first place). Throughout the film Patrick’s family is cast in contrast to Joe’s. They have inverse problems with their parents, but at the end of the day what Joe has that Patrick doesn’t is a perpetual power struggle between himself and his father.

The scenes in the “find out” portion of the movie are where we start to see divergence between the characters. Joe is thrust into the realization that he needs to grow up for real in his isolation. I’d argue that his father also has to come to terms with admitting that he’s wrong, but Joe’s is the arc that is more glaring in this instance. The reason I say this is that if Frank had his own similar character arc, it’s unlikely that Joe would have felt the need to run away in the first place. Their dynamic culminates, of course, in them being able to at least somewhat settle their grievances at the end of the movie. Like any tumultuous parent/child relationship, there’s no real “sorry” moment, just a mutual understanding that settles between them. It’s the equivalent of your parent bringing you a bowl of fruit after a blow-out, or waking up to find they’ve taken your car to get its oil changed.

So yeah, that’s my little (not so little) stream of consciousness assessment of Kings of Summer. I may come back and edit this one later - I’ve been writing about Harry Truman for the last three weeks, which makes it hard to switch into coherent creative-style writing.

Have you seen Kings of Summer? If you haven’t, please watch it. It would make my nerd heart so happy to know other people like my favourite movies.

Oh yeah, and if it wasn’t clear already - 5/5 stars. or 10/10. I have no idea what metric I’ve been using to rate movies, or if I even had for the last few posts. All you need to know is it’s good, ok?

#Kings of summer #nick robinson #nick offerman #movie review #alison brie #movie recommendation #watch this movie #my favourite movie #favourite movies #good movies #coming of age

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stanning-reyna · 2 years

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It’s kinda sad that Frank, the only positive asian rep in the riordanverse (that I can remember) is largely overlooked by the fandom. And then the little content we do get about him is often something fatphobic about his “glow up” in HoH or calling him a “chinese baby man” (which is not a good thing to say for multiple reasons)

Shoutout to all the people making quality Frank content for us to enjoy because we need it

And shoutout to all the asian fans who have to put up with their ethnicity being ignored, y’all deserve better

#yeah this #i’ll start making more frank content too because i don’t do enough #frank zhang #heroes of olympus #hoo fandom #hoo series

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oneshot-wxnderland · 3 years

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Lab Partners With Benefits Pt. 3 | Percy Jackson

Summary: Another week, another lab and Y/n and Percy are feeling a different kind of tension this time.

Category: fluff

Part 1 | Part 2

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Percy had been kicking himself all week. He had forgotten to ask you for your number before you left his place and now you probably thought he was just some asshole looking for a one-time hookup. And he didn’t want that. And he hoped you didn’t want that either. But he wasn’t really sure what he wanted.

It’d been a hot minute since Percy was in any kind of relationship and he wasn’t sure if he was even the relationship kind. Even if he did want to be, his life just didn’t lend itself to dating mortals. There was always some monster popping up that he’d have to fight, or quest he’d have to go on, or emergency at camp he’d have to run off to, and Percy was a shit liar. It’s what messed up the last time he’d tried to date somebody. He was constantly blowing off dates and rain-checking everything because the gods are needy attention seekers.

He’d seen superhero movies before and related a lot to when they had similar issues. Percy’s not saying he’s Spiderman or anything, but he does live in New York and save it from constant peril – so yeah, he’s Spiderman.

This time, however, he was really considering trying again. Trying with you. And Percy had a plan.

Sliding into his seat when there were only a few other people in the room yet, Percy felt pumped up. He woke up early, showered, had a FaceTime with the boys to discuss the game plan, and got to class ahead of you so that he was ready to give you his number the first chance he got before he lost his nerve. That was part of Jason’s advice: offer his number to you instead of asking for yours. He claimed it would make Percy come off more vulnerable and less pushy. Leo mostly just spouted different cheesy lines that Percy would never use. Frank didn’t say much but Hazel piped in every now and then when she took the phone from him.

“So, you’re lab partners,” Hazel started. “Do you talk outside of your lab?”

“No, that’s why I need her number.”

“But you said you did homework together at your place right? So how’d that go? Did she seem interested?”

Percy paused.

“Yeah, it went... fine.”

Hazel was blissfully unaware of the blush that was creeping up his neck but Jason didn’t miss it. Or the way he suddenly needed to roll up his sleeves and fiddle with them.

“Did you just do the homework?” Jason asked suspiciously.

“We uh... kissed...”

“Niiiiiicee, Percy!” Leo hollered. “That’s my boy!”

Frank retook the phone from Hazel and hastily gave an excuse to go before leaving the call and cutting off Hazel’s confused protests.

“I don’t know what to tell you, man,” Jason shook his head. “This is way beyond my level now. Piper and Annabeth are nearby I’ll go get them-.”

“No!” Percy cut him off. That’s the last thing he wanted. The girl’s won’t know or care what to do so they’d ask Piper’s siblings and then the entirety of camp would know. “It doesn’t really change anything. I’m going to give her my number and then the ball’s in her court and I don’t have to worry about it.”

“But your balls were in her court, weren’t they Percy.”

“Leo I am going to kill you when I get back to camp and that is a threat.”

Leo left the call.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine, just don’t do your game-time face because it’ll scare her off,” Jason tried to get the conversation back on track.

“What face? I don’t have a scary face?” Percy added another item to the list of things to not do when he saw her.

“Yes you do. It’s when you’re charging into battle but this isn’t battle is it Percy?”

“You’re lucky,” Percy lamented while he grabbed his backpack. “You just woke up and were already with Piper. All the hard work done for you.”

“You got this man, just be yourself.”

Percy decided to throw that particular bit of garbage advice away.

Now he was sitting in his seat, got there early, and he was even wearing his nice t-shirt, so what could go wrong.

As soon as you walked in the door all of his carefully curated bravado deflated inside of him. You walked towards your shared table and he had to expel childish nerves he hadn’t felt in years. He’s in college now, for Hades’ sake. He was a man.

“Hey,” you greeted as you sat down.

“Hi.” That was stupid. Men don’t say ‘hi’. He should’ve said ‘hey’ back.

“You’re here early,” you commented and Percy just nodded like an idiot.

The plan was to giver you his number as soon as he saw you, but he couldn’t just blurt that out of nowhere.

“How’ve you been?”

There. Establishing a conversation and definitely not stalling.

“I’ve been good.” The small amused smile on your face calmed him down a little. He’s got this.

Class started before he could slip his number in casually but Percy wasn’t deterred. He wasn’t going to let geology get in his way.

While you were reading the data you had to chart on the graph, you noticed Percy’s usual fidgeting get even worse. Glancing at him from the corner of your eye, you saw him concentrating intensely on the paper and trying to contain his frustration. You recognized the signs since one of your friends has dyslexia, but you knew he wouldn’t ask for help.

“So we have to plot the points on the graph and then draw the elevation lines, right?” You asked casually, looking over to him for confirmation. He nodded his head, but still continued to squint at the numbers which all were very small print and close to each other.

Muttering the numbers as if to yourself but loud enough for him to hear, you got to work.

Percy sat back and smiled a little, knowing what you were doing. He looked over at you, from your furrowed brow to your crossed legs bouncing with your tapping foot. With a contented sigh, he recalled what it felt like to be in between those legs. Having them wrapped around his hips while you moaned his name.

His eyes trailed up your body, memories that were attached to each part flooding through him like a highlight reel of his deepest fantasies. Then he got to your bare arms and the goosebumps on the skin shook him out of it.

“Cold?” he asked, interrupting you trying to help him which he really should have been listening to.

“Yeah, a little.”

“Here.” Percy shrugged off his hoodie and held it out to you before pausing (and slightly panicking.)

Hold up, is this weird? Am I being weird right now? Should giving her my hoodie come before or after we exchange numbers? I guess doing it before could be a good test of whether she would be interested in exchanging numbers. But this is couple stuff. Her wearing my hoodie. That usually comes after numbers. But she’s cold now and I can’t seem like an asshole withholding warmth unless she accepts or declines my number.

Luckily, you didn’t seem to notice his panic as you took the hoodie from him without hesitation and put it on. “Thanks.”

He calmed down as he watched you roll up the sleeves so that your hands were free to work and he felt a different kind of warmth spread through him. He liked the way you looked in his hoodie.

You caught him watching you and it threw you off. This wasn’t the heated gaze that had made you melt before, this was... softer. But the moment was ruined when you glanced down and saw that he hadn’t drawn a single point yet.

“Hey,” you tapped your pencil on his paper. “Focus.”

“Sorry.”

You worked well together for a while. The rhythm of plotting points distracted Percy from his nerves. That is until he felt your hand on his forearm.

“What’s this?” You asked, finger tracing the SPQR of his tattoo and making him shiver.

“Oh, it’s a band.”

“What band?”

“The Super Popular... Cool Rockers.”

“They spell Cool with a Q?”

“That’s what makes it cool.”

“Ah.”

Percy went back to the worksheet, congratulating himself on his quick thinking when he saw you pull out your phone.

“What are you doing?” he asked, totally nonchalant.

“Looking up the Super Popular Qool Rockers.”

Percy snatched your phone.

“Oh, you won’t find them.” He dodged your attempts to grab it. “They’re really underground.”

“You’ll be really underground if you don’t give me my phone back.” Percy hastily returned your phone, as if the threat scared him. You tried to glare at him, but found it too hard to suppress your smile once his broke out. “Thank you. Now will you tell me what it really means?”

“Maybe one day.” People started packing their things and leaving since class had flown by faster than Percy liked. Sensing his window of opportunity closing he decided to Hades with it. “Depends if you go on a date with me.”

You took your time standing up and gathering your things while pretending to mull it over in your head. Which Percy really did not appreciate.

“Maybe one day,” you answered him with a coquettish smile and took a few steps towards the door. “Well, aren’t you coming?”

Percy was too concentrated on restraining a fist pump to puzzle out your meaning.

“We didn’t get much work done today, so we better finish what we started at your place.” You winked at him and strided out the door.

With a mischievous grin, Percy was quick to follow.

#percy jackson #percy jackson smut #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x you #percy jackson x y/n

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roscgcld · 3 years

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ZEN’IN NAOYA || husband’s duty

request: omg if it is okay can i ask for a part 2 of sweet little things 🥲

note: you definitely can, love! honestly this definitely cracked my head a little since we didn’t get to explore naoya too much as a character, underneath all that complexity that makes him up as the man we saw in the manga. But I am not gonna sit here and say I do not simp for him AHAHAHA - that would be a huge lie. But we shall see, no? I feel like I made him too soft though, but I live for soft!Naoya - so do not touch me T^T

part one

warning: suggestive scene throughout, but nothing happens really. just naoya being an ass lol

pronouns: she/her

A content sigh left Naoya’s lips as he leans back into the warm water of the bath, his eyes slowly sliding shut at the warmth that surrounds him. Today has been a long day on the office - with back to back meetings and piles of paperwork on his desk, he was just ready to land into his bed face first and sleep the evening away.

“What do you want for your onigiri filling tomorrow? The farmers that produce that special rice you like sent a bag of rice to us earlier today.”

Your soft and sweet voice was what broke him out of his tranquil trance, yet he doesn’t find himself getting angry. Instead he hummed as he leans towards the direction of your voice, seeming to melt further in the steaming water when your soft hands immediately rest themselves against his broad shoulders. Fingers immediately getting to work on the knots that had started to build up since the afternoon. “Hmm...unagi filling sounds good.”

“I’ll make some for your bento tomorrow then,” You reassured him with a warm smile as you started to work through the knots on his shoulders, making sure to not accidentally dig your short but well kept nails into his skin. Whilst Naoya enjoys leaving marks of ownership all over your person, he does not appreciate having any scars left on his skin. And although he does not voice his disapproval, you know your husband well enough to know that unless he is in the mood, you should be careful about things like your nails scratching his skin.

The idea of you making one of his favourite dishes for him, knowing that he has to deal with more paperwork and calls tomorrow has him smiling softly in response. He would not voice out how your little actions causes his usually cold heart to skip a beat; instead he just leans back a little when he heard you collecting some water from the tub with the wooden shower pale. Relishing in the feeling of the water being poured over his two-toned hair, along with your soft fingers gently running through the strands.

Many people feel bad for you, since everyone knows what kind of man Naoya is. Everyone knows that he is nothing more but a skirt chaser, a man who views women as nothing an accessory to hang off his arm. Whose purpose is to provide strong heirs, and nothing more. You knew of the man even before you met him the first time on your family estate - listening to your older sister rant about how much of a myogenetic, rude, and disgusting excuse of a man Zen’In Naoya is. You’ve heard of the whispers from the other women whenever you would join a jujutsu event where the Zen’Ins would be in attendance. You knew that the moment both your fathers shook hands after Naoya shows great interest in you, your future was sealed to be with a man who seems to be every woman’s living nightmare.

And yet, for the last 4 months of marriage life, things have been...pleasant.

Naoya knew from the moment that he spoke to you that he needed to act ‘softer’ in order to gain your trust. That he cannot be his full self around you for at least the first month of your marriage in order to make him trust you; or until his patience runs thin from acting.

However, even though he has promised himself that he will drop the act after the first month; here he is, 4 months into your new marriage. Still finding it almost natural for him to act softer and more...kinder around you. Maybe it is because he finds your personality just so soft and welcoming that it just...felt right to treat you differently. Maybe he is just trying to reason to himself that as his wife, you should be treated differently from the common folk outside of your private home; after all, as long as he keeps you happy, he can get away with pretty much anything.

And yet...he has yet to find it in him to actually act like his usual self around you. Almost as if he was afraid of scaring you, or fearing that you’re scared of him. It’s laughable - how a man who was so self centered and only cared about himself and no one else, seemed to be so worried about what his wife thinks about him. He had reasoned to him that this is normal; that any husband would want their wife to fear them.

But just...it was odd to him. How he chooses to act differently around you, and not feel like he is forced in any way.

His opened his eyes to take a peak at you when his thoughts start to wonder, scanning over your concentrated features as you carefully worked the shampoo through his hair. Somehow just seeing you so focused on making sure that he was enjoying his bath had his heart skipping a beat; something that would have scared him if it were to happen with anyone else.

Yet, instead he found himself letting a small but genuine smile tug against the corners of his lips, one that immediately catches your attention as you carefully wash the studs from his hair. “What got you so happy, my love?,” You asked him curiously as you carefully ran your fingers through his hair, making sure that all the studs were gone. Instead of answering he just reached his hand up to grab your wrist in his gently, pressing a soft kiss against the inside of your wrist.

Naoya isn’t a man to convey his emotions often. He doesn’t necessarily view emotions as weak; he just sees no reason to show others around him how he feels unless it brings him some form of advantage. Other then that, he just puts up an arrogant and unbothered front for the most part. But with you...well, you were different. You are his wife, and in order to be a good husband, he needs to show you that he is willing to show you what is underneath his mask. Or so, he thinks that is what he needs to do.

The feeling of Naoya’s lips against your skin send a set of shivers down your spine, your eyes shyly glancing away from his handsome face as you felt the tips of your ears warm up. Just seeing how bashful you were about something as small as showing you emotion had him smirking against your wrist, immediately wanting to see just how far he can push his luck.

And he knows exactly what to do. “Get in the bath with me.”

You immediately snapped your shocked eyes back at your husband in shock, immediately feeling your cheeks warm at how he was staring at you expectantly. Although you’ve seen each other naked before, with him being so obsessed of having an heir of his own - it would be a surprise if you haven’t see him naked in all his glory. It wasn’t like he was bad to look at either - from all the training puts himself through to perfect his Technique, you would be lying to say that you’ve never stared at his strong back or broad shoulders whenever you two are alone.

It was just...so sudden. And you immediately knew what his intensions were, yet you just pouted softly as you quietly pulled yourself up from the steps you were seated on. Just seeing the soft pout tugging against the corner of your lips had Naoya biting back a smile as he watches you strip from your kimono, carefully folding the expensive fabrics to the side.

Soon you carefully made your way up the wooden steps of the traditional bathtub, thanking your husband quietly as he held a hand out to help you into the tub. You awkwardly knelt down between Naoya’s knees, still a little nervous to touch him even though he was the one who invited you into the bath with him. Naoya found your fear quite amusing, and without missing a beat he grabbed your hand in his before he pulls you close; chuckling at the squeak you let out when you landed against his bare chest.

“Don’t need to be so scared, my wife,” Naoya mumbles with a smirk, hands trailing down your soft back to relish the goosebumps that appear on your skin; his eyes glancing away from your shocked face to your fists resting against his chest. “After all...if there is one person worthy enough to be by my side, it will be you,” He mumbles, hands that seem even warmer than the water surrounding you two resting on the small of your back.

A combination from his soft touches, to his overly sweet but frank words had your face burning up once more as you whine and bury your face into his neck, your actions causing Naoya to let out a soft but genuine peel of laughter come from his chest. “Did I startle you?,” Naoya asks in amusement, already knowing the answer to that question. Yet he wanted for you to answer the question yourself, since he lives for seeing you getting embarrassed over the smallest of interactions with him.

You fluttered your eyes close to try and calm you rapid heartbeat, yet you nodded your head gently to answer his question. “A-A little..,” You mumble back quietly against his skin, heart skipping a beat a little at Naoya’s soft chuckle that he breathed against the shell of your ear. Naoya did not want to admit it, but he finds this subconsciously clingy side of you quite endearing. Whilst he hates it when others touch him, even if they grazed him by accident; he does not mind it when it’s you.

Maybe he has gone a little insane after marriage.

After you’ve managed to gather your wits, you quietly pulled away from him before you reached back to grab the wash towel you had grabbed from earlier, Naoya curiously opened one of hi eyes when you shifted against his chest. Just having you pressed up against his chest, along with the warm water surrounding him had lulled him into a tranquil and sleepy state. But he didn’t stop you as you wet the wash towel before you carefully lathered his body wash into the fabric.

Quietly you started to wash his body like you would usually every night, yet this time it was a little different since now you were in the bath with him. Something that he has never really allowed before, since he views his bath time as his personal time. You would usually help him bathe before you leave the bathroom to prepare for bed and whatever wifely duties you need to fulfil for the night.

But if you were being honest, as you carefully washed your husband clean, you did not mind a change to your routine. Yet you did not voice your inner thoughts as you continue gliding your hands over Naoya’s arms, making sure to keep quiet to give him the silence he enjoys whenever he’s in the bath. However, Naoya was in the mood to talk today.

Whilst you were carefully washing his chest, Naoya’s hands started to wander along your body once more once more. “So, what did you get up today whilst your husband was out at work?”

You blinked up at your husband curiously, to which he just raised an eyebrow in response at the look you threw his way. “Can a husband not know what his wife gets up to when he slaves away at his desk?,” Naoya asks with a soft raise of his brow, his words causing you to widen your eyes as you shake your head immediately. Not wanting him to think that you’re questioning his authority. “O-Of course not! I-I just...thought...you’d like some quiet in your alone time..”

A soft sigh was your only response, to which you awkwardly looked away from your husband’s eyes to stare at his hard chest; worried that you’ve angered the man. “You know...I want to hear about your day too,” Naoya mumbles after a few tensed seconds of silence, a finger gently crocking under your chin to coax your eyes to look up at him. He did not have a smile on his serious face, yet there was a soft look shining in his usually hard eyes. “I get curious sometimes when I have time to breath...what does my beautiful wife do at home when I am away? Does she miss me? Does she take the free time she gets to pretend that she is not my wife? What could you be possibly be doing when I am away from home..?”

When you heard his words, you tilted your head softly as you scanned his face, trying to understand the meaning behind his message. He wasn’t dumb - he was more than aware of the whispers of the maids that thought he was not around, how people feel bad for you that you are married to a man like him. He honestly doesn’t care what others have to say about him - he never cared about what others have to say about him. Because he knows that when they need power or need something to get done, they will always turn to him with fake smiles and praise dripping from their tongues.

However, he was genuinely worried about you - he was worried that the whispers of his past will start to scare you away. Make you think that you are an idiot for marrying a man like him, and slowly but surely take you away from him. For once he was worried that you are going to leave him, because for once in his life, he finally understand what it truly means to be home. The very thought of you leaving him shakes him down to his very core, and he will do everything in his power to prevent that from becoming his reality.

“I don’t...think like that, you know.”

Your soft voice snapped his train of thought as he glances back into your eyes, blinking when your soft hands rest against his cheeks gently with a soft smile gracing your features. “I knew the type of man you were before you came to my family estate that day, and I have heard of all the rumours of your attitude even whilst you were courting me. But that didn’t change my decision because I genuinely enjoyed having you around.”

Your words had Naoya widening his eyes as his mind went blank at your confession. And seeing your usually stoic and arrogant husband looking stunned had you giggling as your thumbs started to stroke at his high cheekbones. “Yes, you may be a little colder and stricter then I am used to, but you are still a good man. You’ve been nothing but a good husband to me, and far from the rumours paint you to be. So don’t worry too much about my thoughts on our marriage, because I am nothing but happy to be your wife.”

Quietly you gently tugged his face close, resting his forehead against yours with a smile. “I know that you grew up in a different world from I did, and that you were brought up with different morals from mine. But I also know you’re trying for me, and that is more than enough for me at the end of the day.” You mumble softly, revealing to him that you were more observant than you let on. Yet you faked ignorance for his sake because you genuinely cared for him as a person. “Because at the end of the day, a wife is knows all of her husband’s sides the best.”

For once Naoya was completely stunned into silence, having never expected for you to be so candid about your feelings. Your response to his stunned silence was a quiet giggle as you lean forward to press a soft kiss against the tip of his nose. The feeling of your warm and soft lips snapped him back into reality, and upon realising how close you were, his pale cheeks flushed up from embarrassment. Immediately one of his hands pulled itself away from where they were resting against your bare hips to cover his cheeks with the back of his hand, eyes darting away as he leans away from you immediately.

“I-I want to get out of the bath now...”

You let out a giggle at the sight of your husband so out of character, yet you made no other comment as you nodded with a smile. “Lets get ready for bed then, my love,” You hummed out as you carefully got out to grab the towels for the both of you, biting back your smile at how cute you find him to be as you dried yourself before you did the same for him.

It was only later into the night, long after you’ve fallen asleep when Naoya really calmed down. You had long fallen asleep, face tucked away underneath his chin whilst your arms wrapped around him loosely. He knows he needed to sleep in order to function properly tomorrow, but his mind has been racing the moment you two got out of the bath to prepare for bed together.

He still cannot wrap his head around the idea that you willingly stay, even knowing that there is a chance you might see a less ideal version of himself. You choose to stay knowing all of the rumours about him and his, admittedly, horrendous behaviour and morals. And whilst he does not know what was it that he did that had you landing in his life, he is 100% sure he will never let you go.

Quietly he presses a soft kiss against the top of your head, a soft but content sigh leaving his lips as he closes his eyes to try and get some sleep before his alarm would go off later. Signaling to a start of another long and boring day away from you once more.

“You’re the best thing that has happened to me,” He mumbles softly into the quiet bedroom, a soft admission to you whilst you’re far away in dreamland, dreaming of things unknown to him. But the least he can pray for is that he wouldn’t become the enemy in your nightmares.

Because at the end of the day, it’s a husband’s duty to protect the happiness of their wife from the evils of the world. Even if the biggest evil in their lives is themselves. As long as he is your husband, you will have nothing to fear.

He will make sure of it.

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homo-sex-shoe-whale · 3 years

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Online shipping, the fetishisation of gay men, and the romanticisation of queer trauma

An essay by me!

Word count: 2.8k

A link to the Google Doc version of this essay.

A big thank you to my friends Nathan @themeerkatnate, Mav @not-mavv , and Duke @dukedark-ness for reading this essay and giving me their thoughts as mlms on the topic. Make sure to check out their blogs and give them a follow!

So I was on a lovely website by the name of Twitter.com yesterday, just scrolling through while having my afternoon cup of coffee, when I saw that viral post of a girl reading a Larry fanfic through a classroom projector. I'm sure most of you have seen it. It's gone viral on Instagram, TikTok, and likely Tumblr too, and if you haven't come across it I'm positive you will soon.

Now, after getting through my initial reaction to that post which was, holy fuck, that's so embarrassing, I had a second reaction of... wait, this ship is still around?

And after I had some thoughts on the incredible permanence of some online ships and the weird obsolescence of others, I did get to thinking of how lots of these popular ships seem to stem from the same types of perceived relationship dynamics and homophobic stereotypes.

These online fandoms often seem to have an obsession with objects of queer trauma, such as having to hide a relationship, lying about sexuality for self-preservation, and even social rejection. So, after some opinions from my followers and the great archive that is the internet, I've decided to discuss some of the most popular examples of online shipping and the particular nuances they came with.

NOTE: Out of respect for all these people, I won't be sharing viral images or videos of them in perceived romantic proximity (or even kissing, as is applicable for some examples), but I will be describing certain moments I deem to be relevant. So even if you're unfamiliar with them, you won't be confused as to what I'm talking about.

NOTE 2: Although not all people within these fandoms were/are toxic, this essay is focused on the overall toxicity of the fandoms, and how they are toxic more so as a "hive" than as a group of individuals. When I refer to a fandom I don't mean every person involved in the fandom, but rather the collective impact of the group.

1. Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson

This is arguably the most popular example of online shipping. The absolute permanence of this ship, and how its fandom never seems to fully die off even beyond the lifespan of One Direction as it once stood, is downright impressive.

I'm going to be the first to admit I was never in the loop with this fandom. My childhood best friend was actually a massive Larry shipper and asked me to beta read one of her fics, but that was before I even knew who tf Harry and Louis were! Not because I avoided the fandom or even because I rejected the online shipping, but just by coincidence, I delved into the world of pop punk music right when One Direction began gaining its popularity. I bought my first ever album, Riot by Paramore, in 2011- only a year after One Direction made their X-Factor debut. So, this fandom just bypassed me by a sort of weird coincidence.

But I don't need to be in the loop with this fandom to know the astronomical obsession with these two men, no, these two BOYS, was extremely toxic. In 2010, when One Direction made their debut, Harry Styles was only 16 years old. And Louis Tomlinson wasn't much older at 19! This made the two of them incredibly young when this unprecedented wave of shipping hit the internet, and although that must be traumatising for anyone, I cannot even fathom how overwhelming it must've been for two boys that young.

I'm 18, almost 19 now, and I cannot begin to imagine how scary it was for the two of them to have their every interaction nitpicked within an inch of its life by thousands upon thousands of people online. I do not know this myself, but from numerous recounts by some of my followers, this massively impacted Harry's and Louis' nondescript relationship in real life, seemingly driving the two previously close friends apart.

Now, before we move on, there's something we need to talk about. And that is the obsession with the dominance/submission dynamic within the world of gay shipping.

With almost every popular mlm (an acronym meaning man-loving-man) ship based on real people, it seems that fandoms have a particular fascination with power imbalances in these relationships. You don't even need to look at the insane amount of fanfictions based on BDSM to figure this out. In almost all of the examples I'll be citing today, there is an age gap within the perceived relationship and a person the fandom has seemingly decided to be the top/dominant figure.

Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson are 3 years apart in age. Although it isn't all that relevant now, an age gap of 3 years when you're in your late teens is a lot more significant. In 2012, for example, when this shipping really started gaining traction, Harry Styles was 18 and Louis Tomlinson was 21. That power imbalance, albeit not that significant, is enough for a fandom to latch on to. We'll see this a lot more in the coming example with Dan and Phil.

2. Dan Howell and Phil Lester

It's impossible to have a discussion about internet shipping without talking about Dan and Phil.

Dan Howell and Phil Lester, although being popular YouTubers individually, are arguably one of the internet's most iconic duos. The two creators published their first videos together in 2009, and while their relationship was already a motive of speculation back then, the peak of the "Phan" shipping definitely came in the 2013-2016 era of Tumblr.

Now, I'm going to admit… I was actually on Tumblr when that happened.

The 2013-2016 period perfectly aligns with my middle school days (I started middle school in 2013 and high school in 2016), and I was not only on Tumblr back then, but I was on Wattpad too! Again, this wasn't a fandom I had much contact with as I had a huge anime phase in middle school and I was on Tumblr posting mainly photography and Soul Eater content more than anything.

But I did watch some of Dan and Phil's videos! And the occasional "Phan" content did not completely evade me as one of my closest friends in middle school had a fanchat for them. I wasn't involved in the fandom myself but they were actually one of the few English-speaking YouTubers I watched once in a blue moon (back then I watched mainly Brazilian YouTubers). One thing I did in fact notice over the years, around 2014ish perhaps, was that the two of them seemed to grow increasingly "awkward" around each other, in a way that many folks on the internet thought was reminiscent to Markiplier/Jacksepticeye, two YouTubers who also dealt with extraordinary amounts of shipping.

I'm not the only one who thinks this. The change in Dan and Phil's relationship, at least to the outside world, was clear to almost anyone who watched their videos for a while. I cannot blame them at all. The shipping was nuts. Between the countless fan videos, speculative comments, and insurmountable number of fanfics, there's no way the two of them didn't feel the weight of the shipping. The term "demon phannie" made its way into internet vernacular and there it stayed for years. Even Shane Dawson, who was one of the largest creators on the platform at the time, made several videos speculating on the nature of Dan and Phil's relationship and their sexual orientations.

There was even porn made in which actors with similar appearances to the creators were made to have sex on camera.

Now, this is actually a rare example where the two people involved in the ship actually came out as gay once the shipping seemed to die down. I'm incredibly happy Dan and Phil both reached a point where they were comfortable being publicly out, but I hate to say I'm shocked this day ever came. If I'd gone through what the two of them did, I don't know if I'd ever trust the internet.

And again, this ship's fandom definitely had an obsession with the power dynamics they thought existed between the people within the ship. Dan Howell is 4 years younger than Phil Lester, and was only 18 in 2009, when they started making videos together. From my personal understanding, the shipping was often quite focused on this dominant/submissive dynamic especially in discussions from their early relationship. And this is in no way exclusive to Dan and Phil.

This general fascination with the older man/younger man dynamic, in my opinion, plays into the homophobic stereotype that gay men are predators. The idea that gay men usually seek younger men, and somehow "convince" them to engage in homosexual relationships, is popular homophobic rhetoric. The popularisation, exaggeration, and fetishisation of these power imbalances, in age and/or in relationship dynamics, is directly harmful to the mlm community.

Not only that, but the romanticisation of a "hidden/forbidden relationship" is also detrimental not only to gay men and the mlm community, but to queer people as a whole. Queer people face huge trauma having to hide their relationships; queer attraction is already a societal taboo. And acting like this is good, or even desirable, is harmful to queer people as a whole, regardless of whether or not it's actually applicable to the people being shipped. It normalises this trauma not only to cisgender, heterosexual people, but to impressionable queer youth who grow to believe this type of trauma is to be expected.

3. Frank Iero and Gerard Way

This is another example where the perceived power imbalances between the two subjects of the shipping were directly exploited online. Now, this ship did precede the others mentioned above. If we're looking at this topic chronologically, this particular ship did come first in the shipping timeline. It's closer to the origin of the shipping extended universe, if you will.

In case you aren't familiar with them, Frank Iero and Gerard Way are both members of the American emo band My Chemical Romance. This ship is the first one here of which I don't recall the full popularity. It really peaked in popularity around the late 2000s, circa 2008. And I don't remember this moment online as in 2008, I was only 6 years old and believe it or not, I wasn't really all that concerned with rumoured homoeroticism as a first grader.

However, the popularity of this ship did carry over into the 2013-2015 Tumblr shipping boom. The emo fandom (or "bandom" as it was called) involving not only My Chemical Romance but other similar bands such as Fall Out Boy, Panic! At The Disco, and Pierce the Veil, found its hub on Tumblr.

During this time, I did in fact listen to this style of music, but was focused a lot more on the anime side of Tumblr as mentioned earlier. Of course, I wasn't 13 years old like, "hey, this type of content might be harmful and can inadvertently perpetuate homophobic stereotypes," I just happened to care more about my silly little anime and ended up not getting involved.

This ship does involve a discussion that the others don't, however. With Frank Iero and Gerard Way, there is quite often a certain sentiment of, "Oh, they brought this upon themselves!" as the two band members very famously kissed during a show in 2007. In my opinion, though, this doesn't really justify all the obsessive shipping. If you look at Green Day, a band often grouped in with MCR as another famous pop punk group, the members don't follow too different of a trajectory. Billie Joe Armstrong has, on numerous occasions, kissed both of his fellow band members onstage- particularly Tré Cool, the drummer. And Billie Joe Armstrong is openly bisexual, which none of the members of MCR seem to be but some, or even all of Billie's bandmates, are too.

You'd think Green Day would face a lot more shipping as the more persistent onstage homoeroticism and Billie Joe's openness about his sexuality would warrant more "substantiated" speculation. However, Green Day faces nowhere near as much shipping as My Chemical Romance. Why is this? I actually don't know. It might've been because Green Day has been around for over a decade longer and generally has an older fandom, but I really am not that sure.

It could also be because of the lower lack of potential for forced relationship dynamics. The members of Green Day are all less than a year apart in age and are even similar in height. However, Frank Iero is 4 years younger than Gerard Way, who is not only the frontman of My Chemical Romance, but also considered to be the group's intellectual and creative "leader". Even beyond that, Gerard Way is quite visibly taller, and the perceived power difference between the two of them definitely did not elude their fans.

This difference could even be partly due to the lack of a "mystery" with Green Day. There's not as much to speculate as, well… the members of Green Day are already open about their sexual orientations. It might be that shipping in the Green Day fandom has less of a forbidden appeal for most people.

Of course, I won't just keep repeating myself, but my previous points about forced relationship dynamics still stand.

4. Martin Freeman and Benedict Cumberbatch

Better known for their roles in BBC Sherlock as Sherlock and Watson, Martin Freeman and Benedict Cumberbatch unfortunately had their roles follow them well into real life. This is the example I know least about, so have these thoughts from a follower by the name of @indubitably-a-goblin, who had the following to say:

"the main issues i had with it were:

a) they were both married at the time, freeman to amanda abbington and cumberbatch to sophie hunter (in which both had children)

b) the main reasoning for it was their chemistry in the many projects they've done together. which is, shockingly, their Whole Job. They're actors! That's what they're supposed to do! if they weren't good at interacting then they wouldn't be good actors! i don't know how people can't understand this.

c) they're real people. we don't know them. we aren't friends with them. we aren't their family members. we have zero right to be pushing this onto them and ruining their friendship by doing so. (this one relates to most of the ships you've mentioned though)

d) healthy friendships between two men are ignored so plainly in most medias and in fandom. its obvious that these two men have a relationship, but that doesn't mean it's a romantic one.

e) its fine to ship their characters, but actors shouldn't be treated as less-than-human or some sort of prop. they're doing a job, and once they are off-screen, they aren't here for your entertainment."

I believe she did a great job of summing it up on her own, and for the sake of avoiding redundancy, I'll leave it at that!

5. Corpse Husband and Sykkuno- an emerging yet subtle example

I am absolutely positive you remember how popular the game Among Us was a couple of months ago. And with the popularity of this game, some of its most prominent content creators became the targets of online shipping- as is the case with YouTubers and streamers Corpse Husband and Sykkuno.

Although the shipping involving these two creators is nowhere near as strong as it was/is with the examples above, I do think there is once again a reemergence of a common theme here. Whilst Sykkuno is known for his happy-go-lucky, almost "innocent" persona, Corpse Husband is the antithesis of this, known for his much darker and moodier personality.

Do I even have to mention what the common theme seems to be?

Again, although the popularity of shipping - at least with real people - seems to have died down a bit since the Tumblr shipping boom of the early to mid 2010s, I do believe this example is worth mentioning. Even though the creators are still close, they have in fact expressed discomfort regarding the shipping, and I can only hope the internet as a whole lets their friendship blossom and exist naturally without obsessive speculation.

My final thoughts

As explored in the essay:

The romanticisation of objects of queer trauma as a part of online shipping normalises queer trauma to both cishet and queer youth.

Online shipping, especially at a high intensity, can end up negatively impacting the very relationships they pine over.

The relationship dynamics often forced on mlm ships perpetuate homophobic stereotypes about non-heterosexual men.

If anyone else has thoughts on this matter, do share! This essay is moreso an opinionated observational piece and isn't meant to be taken as fact but rather just as my thoughts on the matter. I hope it was useful as a reflective piece regardless!

Date of posting: June 16th 2021

#lgbt #lgbtq #gay #mlm #I cannot believe I said the phrase 'shipping extended universe'

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thenovelartist · 3 years

Text

Mistaken Drink; Drunk Mistake - Tears of Themis

Up next in the "Drunk Wedding" series, we have Artem. Enjoy ;D

When Artem woke up that morning, he was in a shocking amount of pain. He didn’t want to move despite the fact he knew he needed to get up for work.

Regrettably, he forced himself up into a sitting position, only to instantly feel nauseous. He was going to have to call in sick wasn’t he?

“Artem? Are you okay?”

The sweet voice rung in his ears. Before he could even place where he’d heard that voice before, he felt a cool hand on his back. It took him far too long to realize that said hand was touching his skin, making him realize he wasn’t in a shirt.

Why wasn’t he in a shirt? He always slept in a shirt.

However, before he could think too much about it, a new wave of nausea hit him. He braced himself against the headboard of his bed, leaning his forehead on his arms in hopes that the feeling would pass.

“Do you need water?” the voice asked. A lovely, sweet, feminine voice.

“No,” he muttered weakly.

There was a pause, in which time the intense symptoms faded to manageable levels

“Are you dizzy?” the feminine voice asked. “Do you want medicine?”

“No,” he replied.

However, now he was very curious as to who the owner of that voice was. He couldn’t stand it anymore; he had to know. So, pushing past the pain, he slowly lifted his head up to get a look at the person who was next to him.

Oh, it was his work partner.

That was the only thought he had before he felt sick again and buried his face back in his arms, blocking the light from seeping in.

And then the nausea hit him like a truck.

“Artem? Are you sure you’re okay?”

He couldn’t answer. But he most certainly was not.

…

Fifteen minutes later, after a bathroom break that turned into him emptying the contents of his stomach and feeling all the better for it, he was laying back on his bed, eyes closed and arms draped over his face to keep the light out. He was still shirtless at the moment, but that was less because of choice and more because he could barely move from his spot to the closet to grab one.

As for work, he was fortunate enough to have realized it was a weekend. He had time to recover.

He heard a set of footsteps enter his room, and despite knowing better, he opened his eyes to watch Rosa enter, glass of water in one hand and something else in the other.

With his headache, he draped his arms over his face again. While it was originally to keep the light out of his eyes, it also doubled to cover his blush. The question of “why she was in his house” had yet to be answered.

So did the question of “why she was in his shirt”. But he could only think on everything for so long before his headache warned him to calm down.

“I brought you some medicine,” Rosa said. The space beside him on the bed sank under her weight. And while he wanted to warn her that her being here in a bedroom with him, he wasn’t particularly in a position to speak at the moment, figuratively and literally. “Are you feeling better?”

He paused to think on it. “Possibly.”

“Possibly,” she whispered to herself. Despite being out of it, he could hear the resigned smile in her tone. “Do you need anything? Or just rest?”

Honestly, he needed a lot of things. Answers, specifically.

Slowly, he removed his arms from his head so he could open his eyes and see Rosa. The light still seemed over-bright, but it wasn’t as bad as before.

She gave him a smile, and suddenly, he felt warm all over again. “Good morning.”

His heart gave a funny leap in his chest. “Sorry,” he muttered.

Her expression fell to a concerned one. “For what?”

He wasn’t fully sure. Everything, maybe.

Yes, everything.

But before he could say it, she reached forward to brush his bangs back from his eyes, and words died in his throat. “You don’t have to be sorry,” she said. “I’m sorry, too.”

His brow furrowed in confusion. “For what?”

“For last night,” she said.

He pursed his lips together, trying to think of anything she had to be sorry about, but his memories seemed too hazy to recall anything. “To be frank,” he said, voice hoarse. “I can’t remember last night.”

When her eyes widened in surprise, it took him a long moment to realize it wasn’t the good kind. And when she smiled, it was tense, which caused his own stomach to tighten up again. “Well…” she began. “Um… you really can’t remember anything at all?”

He paused, trying long and hard to think back to last night. “We were at a party,” he answered. “For the firm.”

“Yes,” she confirmed with a nod. “There was that.”

The more he thought on it, the more he could recall the scene. Themis Law Firm had decided to hold a party for its associates to celebrate a major court win for a big client. It had taken months of research and many staff members, but in the end, it had come out in their favor. It had been Celestine’s idea to throw a party for the sake of the employees, congratulating them and allowing them to have a moment to enjoy themselves.

Artem had been there, of course, enjoying the atmosphere and the company of Rosa, who had sat next to him at the bar while the others grew roudy around them.

But that was all he could recall.

“What happened after?” he asked, giving up his futile mission of recalling anything further.

“I think… my best guess is the bartender mixed up someone’s double-shot mixed drinks with your mocktails,” she answered.

Ahh, that would explain it. He grimaced, letting his eyes shut again as he dragged a tired hand over his face. How did he not catch that?

“Are you here because you helped me home?” he asked, already knowing what her answer would be.

“Well… I mean… yes,” she answered, hesitantly.

He opened his eyes again to look back up at her. “Why didn’t you go home?”

She turned bright red.

Oh no, that wasn’t his intention. He felt bashful just looking at her.

“I… kinda… was drunk myself,” she said, her blush not dying down as she turned her gaze away from him. “So, I fell asleep beside you.”

His face began to burn. Wait, she was beside him all night?

“Oh,” she said, looking down at her shirt which was actually his shirt which caused a second wave of embarrassment to crash down on him. “Sorry, I stole one of your shirts because my dress was stained from when someone fell and dumped a Bloody Mary on us. That’s why you’re shirtless, too. So you wouldn’t ruin your sheets. Which reminds me, are you cold? Do you want me to get you something?”

His mind had already come to a screeching halt hearing her explain, so starting it back up again so he could answer was a challenge. “I-I…”

Why was talking so hard?

“Yes.”

She gave him a nod. “Okay. I’ll grab one for you.”

With that, she turned her back to him, and he covered his face with his hands, silently wishing he could die and save him from this mortification.

When she returned, she helped him sit up again, and he slid on the plain shirt she’d given him.

“Thank you, for caring for me,” he eventually said, trying his very best to pull himself together. “If you give me a moment, I can give you a jacket to cover your dress and call a cab for you.”

She froze. “Uh…” She seemed to struggle to find words before turning a strained smile on him. “Well… there’s… actually another reason I hadn’t left yet.”

Artem’s brow knit together in confusion., but his gut sank like a stone with worry.

“Because…” The smile she gave him was overly-exaggerated, which worried him deeply. “We should really talk about what to do about our wedding certificate.”

Artem froze, the words somehow eluding him for a moment before registering in his mind all at once.

“I’m sorry. Our what?”

…

It seemed drinking wasn’t the only thing he did last night.

It was mid-morning now, and he was sitting at the table holding his second cup of coffee while he stared at the document in front of him. And he still couldn’t believe it. Because not only had he and Rosa had decided to get married while they were drunk.

But Celestine witnessed.

This had to be the most embarrassing thing he’d ever done and likely the most embarrassing thing he would do in his entire life.

“I’m pretty sure it’s legal,” Rosa said, taking a seat beside him. She was still in his shirt, slowly killing him at the sight of her in it, sipping on her own mug of coffee.

“It is,” he lamented. “Unfortunately.”

“You say that like being married to me is a bad thing.”

His heartrate skyrocketed as he struggled for words. “No! That’s not what I—”

Before he could finish, he took in the sight of her sniggering over her coffee mug. “I was just teasing.”

Despite that, he wasn’t fully able to relax. Because if given the opportunity, he’d love to be married to the woman beside him. However, that wasn’t likely, considering he couldn’t even so much as confess his feelings to this woman.

He cleared his throat. “I’ll start on the annulment, then. It should be granted easily seeing as we were both intoxicated at the time.”

“Do we have to, though?”

He froze, shocked, then confused. “What?”

She sighed. “Celestine warned me you were this dense,” she whispered under her breath.

While Artem was still processing those words, Rosa turned in her seat to face him head on, looking him straight in the eyes. “I love you.”

Whatever Rosa proceeded to say was lost on Artem. He was frozen, completely caught off guard by such a confession. He… he’d thought she wasn’t interested. She never seemed to respond to his advances the way he’d anticipated she would. So why…

How…

He was so confused.

“And I know you try hard to get my attention,” she said, her words finally registering in his mind. “I thought we were getting closer, too. But…” She looked down, disappointment written all over her face. “I must have been wrong.”

“You love me?”

She turned her wide eyes back on him, and suddenly, she was smiling again. “You really are dense, aren’t you?”

…

Back at work, Artem was working on the annulment.

It was… disappointing, in a way. He and Rosa had had a long talk about a relationship between them and where they each saw it going, and what they landed on was marriage in the future. She’d suggested keeping the marriage certificate just in case. However, Artem was adamant that this would notbe how they married. So, annulment it was until they saw fit to come together, sober, as husband and wife.

Which, Artem hoped wouldn’t be too far off in the future.

“So, how’s married life?”

Artem looked up to see Celestine grinning down at him. He fixed her with a stern glare as he picked up the wedding certificate. “You actually witnessed this sham of a marriage?”

“I did!” she cried, grin never leaving her face. “It was a sight to behold. I’m so proud of you for making the first move and asking her to marry you, even if you were drunk when you did. Maybe you and alcohol do get along after all.”

Artem sighed, suddenly feeling quite tired. “And how sober were you for the thought of stopping us to not occur to you?”

“Oh, I was perfectly sober.”

Artem nearly dropped the document. “What?”

With a laugh, she winked at him. “By the way, Rosa istaking on your last name, right? So that I know to give her the proper change of name paperwork.”

Leaning back in his chair with a heavy sigh, Artem wondered if a hangover could reappear days after drinking. Because his head was sure spinning right about now.

#tears of themis #tears of themis fanfic #artem wing

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lucy-sky · 3 years

Text

The Break of Dawn (Leo Barnes x f!Reader)

You work in a small diner not far from the bus station and try to get over a tragic event that happened to you three years ago. Leo Barnes is one of the steady customers, and at some point you realize there's mutual attraction between the two of you. There's no time for romance though - only one night left before the annual Purge, and Leo has an important job to keep Senator Roan safe as it's the only chance to finally put an end to the Purge.

Words: 3 656

Warnings: Sexual content (not super detailed, I would rate this story as Mature rather than Explicit, but still they f*ck), a bit of angst (trigger warning: loss), but Leo is a caring and protective guy who’s ready to hold you

A/N: My first time writing Leo Barnes or any Frank Grillo character, so please don't be mean :))

Taglist: @sweetfictionalworld, @skvatnavle, @lunamoon-87

“There he is.”

Stella pokes you with her elbow.

“What?”

“Your tough guy. He’s here,” she nods to the corner of the diner and you don’t even need to follow her gesture to know that Leo Barnes is sitting there, his usual spot. He’s a bit early today, and it’s understandable - you too find it harder to sleep well as the Purge is getting closer.

“He’s not my tough guy, Stells,” you roll your eyes.

“Oh yeah? Tell it to someone else,” she snorts. “So far I’m just wondering how long you’re gonna keep ignoring that sexual tension…”

“Stella, please.”

“What? Honestly, I don’t know why he’s being such a gentleman… But just FYI, y/n… You know it’s not the 19th century and you actually can make the first move?”

“Even if I wanted to, it’s not the right time,” you shrug. “You know he’s doing an important job. He’s got plenty of stuff to think about and it’s definitely not romance.”

“Who’s talking about romance, sis?” Stella laughs. “You’re both so goddamn tense, you need to blow off some steam. No, seriously. You need to get laid. He needs to get laid. It’s just way too obvious!”

“Oh dear god, just please shut up…” you groan.

“Fine,” she gives you a wicked smirk. “If you don’t want him, then I’m bringing his order.”

You chuckle at this.

“Don’t you dare.”

To be completely honest, you can’t deny that Stella is partly right. There is something between you and this grumpy silent man in the corner. But what exactly? You can’t really put it into words, it’s not just the attraction, or sexual tension as Stella says. You do find him handsome though, you admit that. A couple of times when he was wearing a t-shirt, you caught yourself staring at his muscular arms. Yes, guilty. And still… There’s more than that. You’d call it some sort of mutual understanding.

Leo Barnes works for Senator Roan. In the past, he used to be a cop, now he is the head of security for her. You learnt that one night when he was here, having his usual late dinner. The TV was on, evening news, something about the election of course. And suddenly you noticed him there, standing behind Roan’s back with another guy in a formal dark suit. You blinked, stared at the screen, then looked back at him. He caught your glance.

“Is that… you?” you blurted, realizing too late that you said it out loud. But he smiled, and in his smile there was no anger or annoyance.

“Apparently so,” he replied with a soft chuckle and ran his fingers through his dark hair. “How do I look?”

You started talking ever since then. Barnes usually came to the diner twice - in the morning he just had a mug of black coffee, and in the evening he ordered something to eat. Mornings were often crowded as many people passed the diner before heading to work in the city, so you were busy. But the evenings were mostly quiet.

You often stayed at work late, covering Stella who had to run to her kids or another date. You didn’t mind that since work was always your way to escape. Nobody was waiting for you at home anyways. Somehow, Leo Barnes started to keep you company. He wasn’t much of a talker and you were never into heartfelt conversations with the clients here, but something just clicked. Especially after you learnt about his job and it became clear that your views on the Purge are the same.

Many people hate The Purge, as well as many people support it. Some people hate it because they’re scared for their loved ones, their business (small shop owners who don’t have enough money to afford the Purge insurance often suffer), or they hate it just because they’re against violence in general. And the others… They have more personal reasons. You’re one of them. And somehow, even if you don’t know for sure, you just feel like Leo Barnes has personal reasons as well. He never really told you, and you don’t dare to ask because you know well enough how the memories can hurt. You didn’t tell him either. But still, you don’t know how exactly it worked, you just looked at each other and saw it. It’s like an unspoken secret between the two of you. The details don’t matter anyway. Your stories are in the past and you can’t change it, but what you can change is the future. If Senator Charlene Roan wins the election - the Purge will finally end. You can help with your vote, and Leo… Leo is determined to do anything to help her survive this year. Just this year, and hopefully no one would ever have to survive this nightmare again. You both want it more than anything else.

“Hey.”

You smile at Leo as you place a mug of coffee and a plate on the table in front of him.

“Hey…” he looks confused when he sees the food. Nothing really special: eggs, bacon, some beans and a toast. “What’s that? I... only asked for the usual…”

“Just thought you might need some extra fuel,” you shug. “Only one night left before the Purge, so… you must have a lot of work to do.”

“Yeah, you’re right… I actually do,” he gives you a tired smile. “Thank you.”

“Welcome,” you nod and turn to leave, but Leo suddenly touches your arm and you freeze.

“Y/n?”

“Yeah?” you face him again.

“Do you work tomorrow?”

“Yes… Why are you asking?..” you give him a puzzled look.

“Well uh… To be honest I’d be happier if you took a day off… You know, just to make sure you’re safe…”

You feel the heat on your cheeks. Does… does he worry about you?.. The realization makes your heart shrink for a second. Apparently he’s not just someone who understands, he’s someone who cares. You already forgot what it feels like when someone really cares. Well, of course there are your parents, but they’re far away… And Leo, he’s right here.

“It’s okay,” you say, trying not to look too baffled. “Tomorrow we’re closing the diner earlier, right after lunchtime, so I’ll be home long before the Purge begins. There’s no need to worry, really.”

“Good,” Barnes nods. “I just… don’t think I’ll be able to come over and check on you tomorrow, so I just…” he stutters as if trying to figure out something to say.

“I just want you to be careful, okay?” he finally utters, and to your surprise his hand reaches yours, squeezing it lightly. “Just be careful, yeah?”

“Yeah, I... Of course I will,” you try to smile reassuringly. “I promise.”

There’s about five minutes left before closing hour when Leo appears. As usual, you’re still here, helping Mary, the chief and the owner’s wife with all the cleaning up after the working day. While she’s in the kitchen, you wipe the tables, TV-set is murmuring something in the corner. The election, the purge… Always the same.

“You’re closed?” he asks, meeting your gaze. “Sorry, I… Didn’t realize it’s that late already…”

“We’re about to close, but it’s fine, come in!” you assure smiling at him maybe a bit more brightly than you wanted to show. “We’ll get you something to eat, right, Mary?”

“Sure thing,” she replies from the kitchen door. You weren’t the only one who saw Barnes on TV. Since then, he became an always welcome guest as the diner owners supported Roan as well. Otherwise, to be honest you don’t think you could possibly be able to work for them.

You put a plate with food in front Leo as he takes a seat at the counter. While he’s eating silently, you wipe the coffee mugs and place them carefully on the shelf. The TV keeps talking. Something about the bloomimg economy and international murder tourists who keep coming to the US to take part in the annual Purge. You glance at the screen, see their gut-wrenchingly excited faces.

“Jesus Christ,” you mutter under your breath and shake your head. “Fucking insane.”

“True,” you nearly jump at his words, as you didn’t realize Leo heard you. “I knew people who killed someone on Purge night for… different reasons. But those who kill just because they enjoy it, for fun or sport or whatever you call it - those are the most dangerous.”

“They’re just psychopaths. People like that should be kept in mental hospitals or something. But they just walk around as if nothing’s wrong with them. And the new founding fathers keep telling them how proud they are of them…”

“Roan’s gonna make it stop,” Mary joins the conversation. “This lady’s got some balls, am I right, sir?”

“Yes ma’am,” Barnes chuckles. “She absolutely got them.”

You leave the diner together with Leo. Mary chose to stay inside, waiting for her husband to come pick her up in a few minutes. The night is a bit chilly; you’re shivering, not sure if it’s the cold or the fact that you’re alone with him for the first time.

“Where’s your car?” he asks.

“Oh um… It’s in the service actually. So I’m going to the bus station right over there,” you point. Barnes frowns.

“What about tomorrow?”

“Stella promised to give me a ride home. Leo… I’ll be okay. It’s not the first Purge night in my life, you know.”

“Right,” he clears his throat. “Anyway, since I’m here I can drive you home.”

“You… sure it’s okay?” your voice betrays you a little. “I mean you must be tired…”

“I’m okay,” he assures, then nods at his car. “Come on. I insist.”

“Okay,” you hear yourself saying.

You’re mostly silent on the way. You feel a bit tense, but also kinda… weirdly excited to be in this car, next to him. Damn. Is Stella right, and you’re actually into him? Definitely so. But after all these years you almost completely forgot how it feels - to be into someone or how the relationships work. As if you’re a teenager again. Leo Barnes is the first man who actually made you think of something close to romantic longing since… That night.

“It’s here?” he asks as you reach your house. You nod, and he pulls over. You wait for him to say something, to tell you goodnight maybe, but he doesn’t. Without the sound of the car engine, the silence between you becomes even more awkward. You open your mouth to say goodbye to him, but instead different words suddenly come out.

“Leo, I…”

He looks at you intently. You stare down at your knees.

“Yeah?”

“I just… The fact that you worry about me - it’s very nice of you, really. And… I just wanted you to know that I worry about you too. I worry about you a lot actually…”

“Y/n…” his voice is quiet as he brings his hand to your face, gently urging you to look up at him. His eyes look darker than usual in the dim light of the street lamp nearby. You think if it’s possible to drown in someone’s eyes you’d already be gone.

“I’ll be fine, okay?” he says softly. “It’s gonna be a tough night for sure, but I’ll be fine, I have to be fine. You gotta trust me on this. You trust me?”

“Yes,” you barely whisper, unable to take your eyes from his, and when the tension becomes almost unbearable, his lips finally crush on yours.

You both expected and didn’t expect it, didn’t dare to admit even to yourself how much you really wanted it. Your breath hitches somewhere in your throat as you kiss him back eagerly, forgetting about everything and everyone for this moment that lasts so long and so painfully short at once. You’re both panting as your lips part, foreheads pressed together.

“I… I think I should go,” you mumble as a rush of panic suddenly overwhelms you.

“Yeah… Yeah…” he nods. “You should get some rest.”

“You too.”

You squeeze his hand for a second. Gosh, you didn’t even realize your hand was on his all this time.

“Good night,” you finally murmur, bracing yourself to get out of the car. You feel like something else needs to be said, but can’t really figure out what.

You enter the house and just lean against the door, heart hammering wildly inside your chest. You close your eyes and try to catch your breath. What the hell just happened? And why are you reacting like that? There’s nothing wrong about this kiss. You’re two single adults… Well, probably single. Leo doesn’t wear a ring, so… Damn it, you really got out of practice when it comes to relationships.

A knock on the door made your eyes snap open. As if in a daze, you slowly turn and reach the door handle, already knowing who you’re going to see.

Leo doesn’t say anything. And you can’t read the expression in his eyes, or you simply don’t have time for it, because the next moment he steps inside, his hands cup your cheeks and he kisses you with such longing and desperation it nearly kicks the breath out of your lungs. You don’t know what you’re doing any more, but your fingers are already in his dark hair, scratching the nape of his neck while his lips and tongue keep attacking your mouth. It feels like shockwaves running through your body, and for the first time in years you feel just so alive. All this time your feelings, passions and emotions were asleep, everything around you seemed pale and lifeless as if someone turned down the contrast, but something changed. Not right now, not in the snap of a finger, of course; it happened gradually. Something kept changing deep within you since the very first time your eyes met, and now - you’re finally ready to feel something. To let him in.

You don't think about it though. Or about anything else, to be honest. All you can focus on is what his lips are doing to you, how hot his breath is and how weirdly nice his stubble feels against your skin. Leo’s coat falls on the floor. His big hands seize your waist as he lifts you up, causing you to grip onto his broad shoulders. Pressing you against the nearest wall, he nuzzles into the crook of your neck, the kisses are sloppy, open-mouthed, and you can't suppress a soft moan. He's big and strong, you feel small underneath him, but you like it.

You can’t even remember clearly how you finally reached the bedroom, frantically helping each other to get rid of the clothes. When you tumble down and he hovers over you, the skin to skin contact is overwhelming. He brushes your hair away from your flushed face, kisses you with sudden tenderness. The look in his hazel eyes is warm yet still full of passion as you cup his cheek and he presses his lips to your palm. An affectionate gesture that makes your heart skip a beat, but you both are too impatient to be soft right now. So he leans in, kissing you harder this time, grunting against your mouth when you pull him closer, craving as much of him as possible. You can feel him twitching against your lower belly as you wrap your legs around him, eager to get more pressure. He’s not even inside you yet, but it already feels so good you can’t help bucking your hips, earning a low groan from him at the friction. His lips trail along your jawline, down to the side of your neck, where he kisses and nibbles, and you just know there’s gonna be marks tomorrow, but damn, you can’t care less.

When he finally enters you and starts moving, you’re almost delirious. Clinging to him, you gasp and whisper his name into his skin, feel the muscles on his back tense as he thrusts deeper. The wave of bliss hits you so hard your vision turns blurry and for a few seconds it feels like you’re not there.

Reality comes back to you slowly, with all the dark and troubled thoughts you can’t escape. Leo is lying next to you with his eyes closed, breathing evenly, so you think he must be asleep. Good for him. Carefully, you slip out of the bed to get a glass of water. It doesn’t help you to get rid of the lump in your throat though. Back to the bedroom, you sit on the edge of the bed and let out a deep sigh, trying to fight back tears. Too many emotions for one night.

“Y/n.”

Leo’s voice doesn’t even seem sleepy. You can feel him shifting in bed to reach you, the warmth of his calloused hand stroking your back soothingly.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, uh…” You shake your head, bringing your hand to rub your eyes. “I’m good. It’s just… It’s been a while since I… You know…”

“I know. It’s been a while for me as well.”

“I lost my boyfriend three years ago,” you blurt out, surprising yourself that you said it out loud. “During the Purge night. He um… He was a medical student. We lived in an apartment building and we heard someone crying for help. I wanted to stop him but he just couldn’t ignore someone who needed help, you know. He got shot accidentally, right into his head. There was no chance to save him.”

Leo’s hand gently squeezes your shoulder.

“Sorry, I… Don’t even know why I’m telling you this. I’ve never talked about him since the funeral…”

“It’s okay,” he moves closer, pressing a kiss against your shoulder blade.

“I was so angry at first, you know,” now that you start talking you seemingly cannot stop. “I wished I could find and kill them. But then I thought he wouldn’t want me to become a murderer...”

He presses his forehead against the back of your head for a moment. “I know how you feel, y/n.”

You finally turn to meet his gaze.

“I lost my son. I know what this anger feels like. Two years ago all I was thinking about on the Purge night was revenge. I was determined, almost obsessed.”

“Did… you do it?”

“No. I was close to it. Very close. But… One wise person made me realize that it wouldn’t help. Violence only brings more violence.”

“It has to be stopped,” you whisper.

“Yes,” he nods. “That’s why I left the police. Cops have to stay away from the Purge. I couldn’t any more. At least now I know I'm doing the right thing.”

“Right… Just… I’m just scared of losing you too,” you say very quietly, but he hears you anyway. His strong arms wrap around your body, pulling you closer, enclosing into his warmth. Making you feel safe.

“Hey, hey...” He whispers into your hair as he nuzzles into the top of your head. “It’s not gonna happen, you hear me? Everything’s gonna be alright. I promise.”

You have no doubt your colleagues noticed who drove you to work this morning. But today no one is in the mood for comments, not even Stella. Even though the work goes on as usual, there’s still this tension in the air before the Purge night.

Through the window you can see a bunch of guys gathered around the car with an open trunk full of baseball bats and other stuff you can’t discern. The owner proudly shows off his stuff, other guys laugh, they look pretty chill and relaxed, and your stomach nearly twists at the sight.

All night you could barely sleep a wink. A knock on the door drags you out of troubled slumber. At first you’re not even sure if you really heard it or it was in your dream. But the sounds repeat and you jump off the bed and without even caring to slip something over the huge t-shirt you sleep in. Barefoot, you rush to the door, open it with shaky hands.

He looks so exhausted it seems like he can barely stand. The collar of his shirt that used to be white is now stained with blood. And yet… He’s smiling.

“Leo!..” you gasp, stepping towards him and bringing your hand to his stubbly cheek. “Oh my god, are you… Everything okay?..”

“I’m great,” he breathes out huskily, and his smile slowly turns into a wide grin. “We did it, baby.”

You don’t even try to hold back tears as you fall into his arms, bury your face into his chest. He smells a bit like sweat and blood, but you absolutely don’t care. “I’m so glad you’re here,” you mumble into his ruined shirt. “I’m here,” he whispers back, stroking your hair. Then you realize the two of you are still standing at the porch.

“Alright,” you say, drawing back a little. “Let’s get you in, you need some rest… And you’re probably hungry too… And you definitely need a shower…”

“Wait, y/n. Let’s just… Stay here for a bit? I think we both need to catch a breath,” he chuckles crookedly, reaching out to wipe a tear from your cheek. You smile back.

“Okay.”

Sitting on the porch with your head on Leo’s shoulder, his arm wrapped around your frame, you watch the sky becoming lighter and lighter as the dawn breaks. You can hear the sounds of sirens in the distance. The city’s slowly getting back to life, waking up after another nightmare.

You both know it’s not the end, the war isn’t won yet, but at least you won this very important battle. And for the first time in what seems like ages you have a good feeling about the future.

Thanks for reading!

Hugs, Lucy

#the purge #leo barnes x reader #frank grillo #fanfiction #the purge fanfiction #the purge anarchy #the purge election year #lucy tries to write

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ktheist · 4 years

Text

(why) we got married | m

synopsis. they say the 7th year of your marriage is always an uphill battle - but with the existence of your prenup coming to light thanks to taehyung’s lawyer slash family friend’s slip of tongue - first it reached your and his families, and then your family’s close friends and then your family’s close friends’ friends until - almost everyone is speculating on the grounds of you and taehyung’s marriage being anything but love.

you’re not sure if you’re even going to make past the second year mark in your marriage. but is the reason you got married really as important as why you choose to stay or leave?

muses. chairman!taehyung x stewardess!reader

alternative title. as you are.

inspired by. the 1 by taylor swift

genre. arranged marriage au with a pinch of drama and angst

words. 12.5k

warnings. explicit content

verse. knj. ksj. myg. kth. pjm. jjk. jhs. story time.

in your defense, neither you nor taehyung made an elaborated plan to deceive both his family and yours with the marriage which yes, had been founded upon a contract. but that’s not the point - the point is, your father and brother never sat down with taehyung and had a man-to-man talk. and his mother never sniffed out your reason for marrying her son being his abundance of wealth. but when all comes to light, thanks to taehyung’s lawyer slash family friend who made a slip of tongue - your parents and his were the ones most vindictive about who’s digging whose gold.

and to be completely frank, you were one article away from calling up your mother and telling her that you seduced taehyung into marrying you - just so she’d stop baring her fangs at mrs. kim. these days the headlines keep blowing up your mother and mrs. kim’s completely-by-chance meeting at a five star restaurant that erupted into manic yelling and pointing fingers.

“what did you say, you-” the audio bleeps for a split second before your mother in law’s voice comes back on, “-it was your daughter that seduced my son!”

“you crazy-” the audio bleeps again, “-you better watch your mouth or i’ll-”

the remaining seconds of the video are filled with bleeps that make it hard to even understand what either woman was saying. a wave of regret floods your chest as you scroll down the words strewn out into a juicy, tea-spilling commentary on your and taehyung’s past - the writer seems to pick up the minor little details that, in hindsight, leaves a big fat question mark out in the open.

when exactly did ___ ___ and kim taehyung start dating?

the answer was never.

the two times you and taehyung were photographed together was at a cafe near your office and the other, near his penthouse wherein you were discussing the terms of the contracts by yourselves. the one near taehyung’s penthouse being the final stage where you both signed it on your ipads. to the naked eye, you probably looked like you were on a date and being young professionals, it was only a given that both of you had some sort of electronic on you at all times - even during dates.

everyone just assumed you were together and with the assumption of being together, comes the conclusion that you were deeply, madly in love. was it the way the picture caught you two looking at each other with smiles on your faces? was it it’s sister picture that stilled you in a frame where you’re looking at your ipad and taehyung looking at you with the same - possibly remaining - smile from the moment the first picture was taken? that, you will never know.

but so it goes, you started going to socials together because taehyung needed some cleansing from his... charm-filled past. he used to go to those with different partners each week, and the previous woman that went with him always ended up refusing to talk about it or boasting about her ‘relationship’ with him. that was of course, after yoo now-kim jeongyeon got married three years ago. he used to attend those socials with her for the most part.

but someway, somehow, his public record was clean of any drama.

you would know, you’ve seen the man in action with your very eyes. on your 7th social event together, son chaeyoung had marched up to you and him like a ticking time bomb, red-faced and flaring nostrils and all. you were about ready to stand your ground when taehyung softly touched your hand that was around his arm and asked if you minded if he left for some fresh air.

of course you didn’t - respectfully, you couldn’t care less what taehyung does as long as it didn’t bring a negative light to you and him and the dynasties you both carried over your shoulders. everyone had their eyes wide open and ears perked for what was to come when taehyung walked chaeyoung out to the hallway. but nothing happened, and you were left to mingle on your own until he returned, looking devilishly handsome as always and strutted up to you with an air of refined sureness.

chaeyoung didn’t come back with him but everything remained quiet - not even a dramatic “stay away from my man!” at any point of your contract. you never asked how he did it - you thought it involved money, but over time, you realized it was just kim taehyung and all the things that made those women attracted to him. and just like a flame, he’d burned the moths’ wings until they couldn’t flutter over to him anymore after your wedding.

“uh, miss, we’re here,” the driver calls, meeting your eyes through the rear-view mirror.

it takes you a few moments to close the cover of your ipad and shove it into your handbag before pulling out bills that’s worth more than your car ride, “thanks, keep the change.”

and with that, you hop out of the cab, ready to put on a facade of grace and confidence. the staff who knows you greets you with a range of emotions, some with unhinged admiration from day one, others with curiosity on what’s truly hidden beneath those darken ray bans - without a doubt, aware of the drama going on between their boss’ mother and their boss’ wife’s mother.

either way, you make sure to return each smile and greeting like you always do. red lips sewn across your face like an ever smiling doll.

it’s only once you’ve entered the elevator and luckily left to your own devices, do you let your shoulder sag, the smile downturned into a frown all the way until a ding echoes into the small compartment and a red ‘8′ flashes on top of the doors.

you don’t fail to fix the secretaries a smile, relief flooding over you at how their warm - or was it profession-required - greeting hasn’t changed even after the rumors spreading about your inevitable divorce - of course, purported by you and taehyung’s mothers.

“son, if you don’t divorce that woman right away, i-i,” and here you see for yourself, the woman who called you ‘my daughter’ with the most loving voice, stuttering into a fit of rage, “i don’t think i can face my friends anymore - that bitch jihye has been slandering our family saying you used her daughter to get hold of the company!”

mina is about to knock on the door and announce your arrival when you hold a hand up before placing an index finger to your lips. she doesn’t need to be told twice when she nods once and steps back to leave you eavesdropping on your mother in law and husband.

“that’s fair,” there isn’t even a stuttered beat in his response.

“what-”

“that’s part of the reason we got married,” he goes on, “and ___ needs some help setting up her brother with some connection so it works out - and mom, please refer to ___ and mrs. jeon by their names, ___ is still my wife and mrs. jeon is the woman who raised her.”

“y-you-” mrs. kim stutters out in disbelief just when you decide to make your presence known, hand on the door, “you ungrateful child, oh my- oh my-!” you walk into the sight of the woman falling backwards with mr. ji the kims’ lawyer stretching his arms out to catch her, shouting “madam!” while taehyung launching himself across the room, “mom!”

mrs. kim ends up hospitalized.

“it was a case of stress and overworking that should go away with a good few days’ break,” chairman kim who also opts to assume his seat as part of the hospital’s doctor and a family friend of taehyung’s, fixes you with a reassuring smile.

the stethoscope and white robe gives off a more professional vibe than the sophisticated air you see him wear at family dinners.

“that’s a relief - it’s nothing life-threatening,” the smile you return doesn’t seem to sit right with him as his eyebrows knit together and a cloud seem to loom over his face.

“it’s really not in my place but,” he pauses, probably weighing out the pros and cons of offending you with what he’s about to say - but he doesn’t need to worry too much because after today, you probably won’t be seeing each other at dinners any time soon, “me and jeongyeon,” he means his wife and taehyung’s childhood friend, “are here for you if you need to talk - i know mrs. kim can be a little unreasonable at times, but give her some time. don’t give up on her.”

you nod once, murmuring a hollow ‘thanks for that, seokjin’ before watching the man strut down the hallway, the sound of his footsteps accompanying his leave. only when you’re left with the sound of your breathing, do you finally allow chairman kim’s words to sink into the deepest depth of your heart.

it’s not an easy task to keep your heart still and unbothered by your own mother in law’s words. even now, you can still hear her embellishing her headache, back ache, joint pains and every sort of non-fatal pains she has enough to get taehyung to stay by her bedside - so he doesn’t go home. doesn’t go back to the place where you two have built for yourselves.

and yet you can’t help but agree that - “if you’d divorced her just like i told you, i wouldn’t have fallen so ill!” she sighs, just as you’re about to slide the door open.

all of a sudden, the image of the delicate woman swaying and tumbling towards the ground flashes at the back of your head and you instantly recoil, as if the door was made from fire.

the fear of worsening mrs. kim’s health at the sight of you has you backing away, choosing to wait at the seat in the hallway instead. seconds stretch into minutes and minutes into hours until you feel your body being shaken.

your eyes which you never noticed fluttered close - snap open only to gaze at the face of an angel - a concerned one at that judging from the way his eyebrows knit together. and then you’re hearing the smooth baritone of his voice. you almost pulled out your phone from your purse to ask if you could have it recorded so you could listen to it as a lullaby.

that is, until you realize the angel’s disheveled wavy hair and eyes that look like they’re well on their way to falling asleep standing.

“taehyung,” the name slips out of your mouth with a surprised gasp as you note the pristine pastel background of the vip section, body jolting to sit up from your previously slumping position.

“have you been waiting all this time?” he takes a seat next to you - and only then do you notice the unkempt mess that he is.

the first few buttons of his shirt is undone whilst it hangs over his shoulders, untucked, tie hanging loose over his chest as he drapes his blazer over his arm. the sight is almost alien, especially coming from someone who can’t even stand a crease in his shirt.

“what time is it?” you wonder, reaching for your phone while he checks the rolex on his wrist - which proves to be faster than rummaging through your bag.

“seven-thirty - you’ve been waiting here for more than five hours,” and just your luck, right as the words hit the air, your stomach decides to remind you of the meal you’re about to miss if you stay here any longer.

the heat rushing to your cheeks a second later is immeasurably hot, “o-oh, okay.”

clearing your throat, you ask, “so how was mother? seokjin already told me but i wanted to hear it from you that she’s okay.”

“you know how mom is - keeps saying her head hurts from the fall even though mr. ji managed to catch her halfway,” in any other circumstances, you and him would have found humor in how your mother in law’s overembellished diagnosis to gain attention from you and taehyung - but this time, it’s only one of you she wants that from.

it doesn’t stop you from chuckling though, “it sounds just like her - maybe i should make some ginseng chicken soup to help her get better... or beef seaweed, you know, her...”

swallowing the lump in your throat is a feat - and unfortunately, you’ve failed terribly as taehyung gather you his arms.

only then, do you realize you’re sobbing like a child, emotions running wild as everything comes crashing in like a storm - his mother, your family, the whole fucking tabloids that’s being written and ready to be posted in the next few hours and the fact that the marriage may have been a fraud, but the bonds you made along the way had been more than just business. mrs. kim was a mother to you as much as yours is to taehyung. there may have not been any love between you two but you cherish his family like he cherishes yours.

“i’m sorry - for causing a- a scene - for causing mother to f-faint-” you weep and weep.

in your crying fit, you barely notice the way his arms tighten just the tiniest bit as he sways you left to right gently, one hand on the back of your head caressing your hair as he whispers something along the lines of “it’s not your fault” and “we’ll figure it out together.”

and so for the nth time in your one year of marriage, you’re banding together to capture mrs. kim’s heart again. the first time you visited her with taehyung, she narrowed her eyes at you and demanded taehyung explain as to why he didn’t come alone through the very same eyes next second.

when the man pretended not to notice and even placed a hand on your lower back just as your steps faltered in a ‘i’m with you’ kind of way, she opted to stare out the window while you unpack the broth you made onto the table. the portion you poured into the bowl you brought was getting colder by the minute as you spoke to her, “mother, i made beef seaweed soup, it’s your favorite, isn’t it?”

the only indication that she was listening was the way her eyes scanned the bowl of broth in front of her and proceeded to keep them on the window until you had to leave.

and so goes your second and third visits being received with shoulders made of ice a kind of silence that never fails to make your stomach churn with a sort of nervousness you should have felt when you meet your future husband’s parents for the first time. but the first time you met mrs. kim, your chest was filled with nothing short confidence and woo her you did along with taehyung’s relatives and closed friends. at the time, you didn’t think what you were doing - fooling everyone into believing that you’re marrying each other for love - would come biting you in the ass.

if karma existed then this probably you getting what you deserved.

on your fouth visit, you’d come alone because taehyung had an urgent meeting to attend. mrs. kim spared you a once over just like a rabbit who voluntarily and follishly hopped into the lion’s den.

“mother,” you offer her a smile, “how are you feeling?”

when silence is the only response you get, you quickly rummage through the paper bag you’d brought with you, “have you eaten? i made chicken soup-”

“don’t bother,” her voice cuts through the air like a blade. eyes as piercing as spears, “sit down, i know taehyung has an urgent meeting - it’s the only way to get him off my back.”

you’re not quite sure what she means but you have an inkling that the reason her hostility has yet to reach its pique is because taehyung has been giving her subtle looks to ‘mom, be nice to my wife’.

with a nod and a smile that seems to be glued to your face, you ask, “how was the bibimbap yesterday?”

though she didn’t cut you off, her response doesn’t exactly shed hope to your efforts being paid off when she dismissively says, “i gave it to mr. ji.”

the immediate ‘oh’ that tumbles out of your mouth is purely reflexive even though you know she’s never touched the meals you packed for her. but having her admit it is a different kind of heartbreak.

“i see,” is all you can say as you feel tears prick your waterline, a lump in your throat.

“this,” she places a folder of documents she seems to have ready by her bedside into your hands and without any explanation, sends you off with, “if you have any conscience at all, you’d sign these papers and stay out of our lives. even though i never read the contract but i’m sure a smart woman such as yourself would’ve thought to include the alimony as well - you understand what i’m saying right?”

you tried to say something - anything but at that point, the look in her eye already paints a picture of you clinging onto taehyung’s wealth. and yet you still tried, “m-mother, i-...”

but no words come out and as though her point had been proven, she’d huffed out a sigh and tuned you out like she always did on your previous visits.

so you walked down the hallway with shades covering your tear stained eyes and a skip to your step that oh-so-badly wishes to break into an unceremonious run to a place where nobody knows you. where nobody looks at you with rounded eyes for the briefest moment that easily translates to mrs. kim ___, wife of kadore’s chairman who married her husband for money.

but all you can afford to do is keep your head up until you reached the bathroom door, check each stall one by one to make sure no one’s inside before you finally set down the document and your handbag on the sink. the first sob hits the air as soon as you see the woman in the reflection’s reddening eyes and smudged makeup.

it takes you several breath-holding, eyes-shutting and a couple more sobs breaking through the cracks of your walls before you can finally pat some powder onto the patch of skin under your eyes and on your cheeks where most of the damage was done. by the time you’re back in the hallway with shades darker than the night sky, you find your feet melting and becoming one with the floor at the sight of a man with jet black hair standing at the reception.

and almost as though sensing the heat of your gaze through your ray bans, the man turns around to reveal a pair of doe brown eyes and the smile you’re so used to seeing now missing in action and replaced with a straight line.

“jungkook...”

“how’d you know i’d be here?” you start once you’ve both placed an order for your drinks at the counter.

“how long are you going to keep doing this?” instead of answering your question with a real answer, jungkook heaves out a sigh, eyebrows knitting together in vexation as he fixes you with one of those ‘i’m not telling mom and dad but this is our problem now’ kind of look.

“how ever long it takes,” is all you say, reverting your gaze to the smooth surface of the table.

“are those the divorce papers?” you refuse to look at him but you know he’s burning holes inside the beige colored folder sitting underneath your handbag on the seat between you and him.

“i don’t know,” you shrug, shoulders squared as you meet his eyes through your shades, “i haven’t opened it yet.”

but jungkook being jungkook, he takes that as a bare affirmation, choosing to interrogate you on a different topic, “have you seen what people have been saying about you?"

“i don’t really care about what people say,” is all you have to offer.

“you haven’t,” he nods in conclusion, “they’re saying you can’t have enough of your husband’s money... they’re saying you’re coming here everyday to grovel over his mother’s feet to let you stay married - that’s how i know you’d be here. and judging from the looks of it, they’re not too far off.”

it takes you a good solid minute to stomach the new found information. you haven’t been checking social media because of those same exact malicious comments but that was just the beginning of a downward spiral of your reputation - you never thought your efforts and hard work of burning your fingers on hot stoves and redoing dishes to get a perfect one would be met with an assumption of groveling over mrs. kim’s feet all for your husband’s money.

“god, i need a smoke,” jungkook huffs, receiving a look from the waiter that’s setting your drinks down. only after she’s gone does he present you with another set of questions. “was he the one that paid off dad’s debts? all of them? even the loan sharks?”

“that...” you nod once, failing to keep your head high as you twirl the straw of your frappe around but don’t even take a sip, “and the money i said i had saved up and lent you to start your company,” you quickly add,“- but taehyung doesn’t care about that - he wouldn’t accept it even if you wanted to pay him back twice the amount.”

“then why are you...” it’s the way his voice breaks at the end that makes you look up only to see a man whose eyes are a little sunken and cheeks a little hollow - almost as if he hasn’t been sleeping nor eating well because of his foolish sister, “why are you letting that woman trample all over you like this? wouldn’t it be easier to just get a divorce-”

“that woman is my mother in law, jungkook. at least, practice the same level of respect you’ve been preaching about,” you speak over him - it’s funny how taehyung once stood up against the same woman you’re standing up for, for you.

when all that follows is silence, you go on. this time, in a much demurred tone, “and it’s not about letting myself get trampled over... if mom found out you lied about something and she’s acting like mother does because she’s hurt, would you just go on with your life like nothing happened?”

it takes a moment for him to register what you said before taking on a much less hostile tone though still just as firm, “___, this is your life... i don’t know what kind of ‘happy family’ delusion you’ve been living in but i’m willing to bet all my money that it’s not taehyung that gave you those papers to sign and made you cry in the bathroom stall for thirty minutes-” he throws you look, “yeah, i saw you go into the washroom after coming out of her room. i was gonna call you but you looked like you had to take a huge dump so i waited but we know that’s not the case now.”

silence lapses between you for the umpteenth time before you stubbornly announce, “i could’ve been taking a dump - you don’t know.”

the sight of jungkook’s jaw dropping and hitting the ground is laughable, if not for the fact that he’s shaking his head five seconds later. vexed. irritated, “this is getting ridiculous - we’re going home. now.”

and he doesn’t mean the penthouse that you and taehyung shares.

shooting up, his hand grasps your wrist and he would have dragged you all the way to the car if you hadn’t protested.

“jungkook, no - i’m not going anywhere,” pulling your hand back, you stand a good one head shorter in front of your brother which doesn’t do much for your cause.

“___, if not for you then do it for mom and dad - they’re getting too old to be worrying about their one and only daughter’s marriage prospect,” he tries to coax, knowing full well your heart would wither like a flower at the mention of your parents worrisome nature - especially when your business is out in the open no matter how hard you try to hide it, “and you haven’t been answering their calls either.”

“i know, i just-” before you can even finish your sentence, a flash of garnet and bridal pink catches your eyes.

“____... jungkook, i didn’t think you’d be in korea. how are you?” taehyung’s warm baritone is laced with confusion as he stares at your brother and then at you for a sort of explanation but before you can even open your mouth, jungkook’s already has his hand wrapped tightly around your wrist, “yeah, well someone’s gotta clean up the mess you started. ___’s coming back home with me - back to her real home.”

“i’m not - stop saying that and let me go,” you tug on your wrist only to wince at the pressure of his grasp, “jungkook, you’re hurting me!”

“hey, let my wife go,” taehyung takes a peaceful step forward, “we can talk ab-”

“oh no,” the laugh tumbling out of jungkook’s mouth drips with malice, “no, see, you lost your knight in shining armor privilege after you quite literally lied to our faces about how you’ll take care of my sister until ‘death do you apart’ when all it took was mommy dearest pretending to get sick while everyone labels my sister a gold-digging wh-”

you taking a step forward with a balled fist, is completely instinctive and you would say taehyung prancing towards the dark haired man with a fist that actually hits the mark, was also instinct-driven. except that he probably has better aim and his punches hurt more than yours ever would.

the first one, you admit was satisfying but when your brother ends up on the ground with your husband throwing blow after blow, you have no choice but to intervene.

“taehyung, stop!” the shriek that echoes against the walls almost burst your eardrums. you would have believed it to be mrs. kim if not for the fact that she’s nowhere in sight and you’re the one with your hands grasping onto your husband’s arms, trying to hold him back from sending blow after blow onto your brother’s half-conscious face.

“taehyung, don’t stop,” you frown, taking a seat next to him while swiping the ice bag off his lap before gently pressing it to his darkened jawline, “seokjin said to keep the ice on the bruise for at least an hour.”

“ahhh - ow - ow-!” the man whines, eyes screwed shut as his grits his teeth together but doesn’t recoil from your touch.

“maybe you should’ve thought twice about throwing a punch at a trained boxer,” you shake your head, lips curling into an inevitable smile.

after taehyung’s had a round of punches in, jungkook managed to flip them over so that he’s the one pinning the elder man down. the events that unfolded after that were the least bit pretty. the nurses and doctors attending nearby patients rushed to the two struggling men and then there’s you, shifting the shouting to your brother to “god damn it, jungkook! stop being a dick!”

it took five men - doctors and just-arrived guards alike - to pry your brother off your husband who still tried to get a punch in and was held back by seokjin who finally arrived at the scenes with half a mind to knock the both of them out as he calmly orders for jungkook to be dragged into one of those empty rooms akin to the one mrs. kim is staying at.

because taehyung was the one who started the fight, seokjin decided that an ice pack would do for the taller man whilst he treats jungkook and orders the other doctors to go back to their post.

picking up the mixture of garnet and bridal pink roses, he stares at their wilted petals for the longest moment, face painted with dejection. they must have been specifically ordered for mrs. kim-

“these are for you,” your train of thoughts halts in its track at taehyung’s words. his hand levitating midair as though unsure of whether to hand the bouquet to you or toss them away, “or were,” then he captures your gaze and you don’t think you can ever find your way out of the maze he’s able to hold you captive in with just his eyes, “you deserve fresh flowers specifically plucked from its stalk - you deserve a whole garden, actually-”

“taehyung,” your free hand covers his as if to say, “they’re lovely, thank you.” placing the ice pack down, you cup both hands around the flowers, bringing them to your nose, “and they smell wonderful - i love pink roses.”

“i know,” the tiniest smile peeks from his lips, “you told me that.”

“i did?” you blink, surprised.

“at our wedding reception, you got a little tipsy and started sobbing because the roses were blush pink and not bridal pink,” the sound of his chuckles drums in your ears like hymns just like it did a year ago.

back when you were decked in an elegant off shoulder white gown after changing out of your wedding dress. you’d stood in the sidelines while your families and friends danced to their hearts’ content to the sound of the music. white champagne in your hand, the background beginning to turn fuzzy and your thoughts began to get louder.

it didn’t help that the object of your frustrations was smack dab covering every inch of the vicinity from the gargantuan rose covered backdrop, to the tiny vases in every single table.

the sob hits the air like the first raindrop. you had to clasp your hand to your mouth as if you were about to cough to hide your mouth stretching into your crying mouth - you don’t know how to explain it but your lips tend to morph into an unshapely sight whenever you cry and covering it when you feel the waterworks coming has always been second nature. as for the tears - they were concealable because the lights were dim enough.

but then there was someone next to you - he just popped up out of nowhere really and because you were standing in the darkest corner, you couldn’t pick out any defining features besides his height but you didn’t have much time to ponder on that as his question fills your eardrums, “so, how does saying goodbye to the bachelorette life feels like?”

“it’s terrible,” you’d wept some more and he shifted on his feet slightly, as though noticing the tear in your voice but luckily for him, he didn’t even have to ask because you were spilling your innermost thoughts out loud, “they- they gave me blush pink and garnet roses- i want bridal pink and garnet roses.”

“oh,” distinctively rang in your ears among the sound of instruments and joyful laughter.

then comes another input, “i didn’t know they messed up your request,” and you didn’t know why he’d sounded like he was about to murder someone.

“yeah and,” you sniffle, “- and i didn’t wanna say anything because- because i don’t wanna be that bratty bride who picks on every little detail.”

that morning, you woke up to a box full of roses and they were the lightest shade of pink. taehyung was already awake and offered to ring up breakfast for the both of you after he’d bid you a good morning and a “something came in for you.”

the gifts were prearranged to be sent to the penthouse instead of your suite but then again, there were chocolates and champagne bottles that made past the hotel doors because of its edible nature - the roses too... their fleeting livelihood seemed like you’d enjoy them better in your hotel room than a week later after you’d come back from your honeymoon.

the card didn’t even leave initials but had ‘roses for a rose’ playfully written in cursive black ink. your heart blooms a garden but your head is what makes you search for your newly wed husband, only to see him looking at you with a tender smile - one that you thought manifested because of your own involuntary smile when you’d read the note.

“i don’t think these are for us,” you could feel the frown setting into your features, causing taehyung’s own brows to furrow.

“i think these are for... me,” and so you told a tale of a woman with ambitions rather than stars in her eyes, who felt a compulsion to at least tell the truth to her husband and the stranger whom she met at her wedding. of course, omitting the teary eyed part and the blush and bridal pink roses part.

taehyung had easily chuckled while the staff set down plates of delicacies on the round meant-for-two-people-on-a-honeymoon table, saying, “he has fine taste - they’re from halls & tara,” after the staff left.

it didn’t occur to you that the h&t initials on the top right corner of the card stood for the most well known florist in seoul until he’d pointed it out, which could only mean he’d been suspicious enough to take longer than a glance at the flowers.

“do you mind if i keep them? at least, until they’re not as fresh anymore.” you quickly added the last part.

“you can keep them in a vase and have them live longer... why? are they not the shade of pink you wanted?” he blinked once, hand halting midair as he was about to take a mouthful of pancakes.

“well- no, they’re perfect actually - i love them,” you almost stutter in your haste to explain while trying to be casual about how devastated you would be if- “it’s just that... i really didn’t know him or who he was- but he obviously knew me because it’s hard not to know the lady of the day- i’m not breaching any terms-”

it’s the way the trickles of laughter filling the otherwise silent room that got you to clamp your mouth shut. the way kim taehyung looked so ethereal and majestic in the pristine black and white setting of the room.

“i don’t mind,” he’d clarified a moment later, eyes twinkling with the remnants of laughter, “i understand why he’d want to desperately send you these if only to see you smile softly like you did - you look beautiful when you smile, by the way.”

the compliment had caught you off guard and your heart might or might not have somersaulted but if there’s anything seven years of becoming a stewardess has taught you, it was to always prepare an adequate response to every situation - and at that time, kim taehyung was infamous for his quick wits and reputation with the ladies. of course, words sweet as honey would come easy for him.

“thank you,” and so were the words of gratitude on your part as you schooled a smile and dug into the pancakes your husband made.

but sitting on the black leather couch, holding onto a similar colored bouquet, you can’t help but blurt out, “that was you? i was bawling my eyes out because of some mismanagement to my husband who didn’t even recognize?” something between a disbelieving scoff and an irony-induced laugh escapes your mouth, “why didn’t you tell me?”

taehyung’s shoulder line shakes as he shrugs, hand going up to scratch the back of his head as he drops his gaze, as if searching for the answer only to look back up into your eyes with a, “i didn’t think you’d be as happy if you knew it was me,” his gaze falters, like a bud of fear blooming behind his irises,

“why wouldn’t i be?” you blink once, not quite understanding where he’s coming from.

that is, until a small smile slips onto his lips and it’s heartbreaking to witness and even more devastating to know you’re in no place to let your arms gather him into a hug like you wish. to kiss his forehead until his worries disappear.

he twines his fingers with yours, thumbing the diamond on your fourth finger, “i’m sorry that i took away your choice to marry for love - that’s a bit corny isn’t it?” he scrunches his nose and you can’t help but giggle, “it’s not just some short term contract since we both agreed divorce is never in the equation,” neither of you believe in tainting the sanctity of marriage - no matter what cause it was founded upon - with separation, “but god, the things you’re going through right now - i promise i’ll make things right.”

taehyung’s eyes tend to appear in different shades along with his emotions - though you know it’s most probably the lighting. dark brown is for when he’s scrutinizing the hollow smiles and empty compliments he gets at functions. but sometimes you find yourself catching hazel.

like right now, as they capture yours and look at you as if you’re the only one he sees.

“taehyung...” you thought you knew what you wanted to say when you said his name but as you get lost in the midnight dessert of his eyes, you’re not sure if you can even muster so much as a squeak without falling apart.

and that’s when a knock reverberates into the air like thunder, forcing you to jolt away from the man until no part of you is touching any part of him.

“hey,” a somber voice greets as jungkook leans against the doorframe, “so they fixed me up and the chairman wants me gone in,” he looks down at his wrist, “two minutes and fifty-three seconds.”

blinking away the remnants of the emotions away, you stand up, giving the man a once over. his button up is marred with a trickle of deep red a few inches over his chest, hair matted and face sporting different stages of bruising. the bleeding’s stopped for the most part.

“you’ve definitely seen better days,” you announce, walking around the couch to get to where the man is rolling his eyes at.

“sorry for calling you the w-word,” that’s definitely wasn’t what you were expecting which prompts the belated, almost suspicion induced,“...okay.”

“i did that because i needed to confirm something,” he goes on, eyes flitting over your shoulder where you know your husband is staring right back, burning holes inside your brother’s head before he looks back at you, taking a full 180 in attiude, “and don’t worry about mom and dad - i’ll take care of them.”

it takes you a moment to digest his proclamation, all the whilst hyperly aware of the hand that makes its way on your lower back as a familiar dior scent fills your senses, “so you’re not gonna drag me home?” as though disbelieving the words that came out of your mouth, you add, “that’s all it takes? a few punches to the face?”

the twitch of his eyebrow doesn’t go unnoticed by you. nor does the deep breath he forces himself to take at the blatant insult and insinuation of your future boxing lessons to which he warns, “don’t get any crazy ideas,” then he turns to the man next to you, “i let you hit me - let’s get that out of the way first.”

and before either you or taehyung manage to get a word in, jungkook hand comes flying to your forehead, a loud sound of skin smacking against skin echoing throughout the room as you tumble backwards with an audible “ow- hey!”, barely noticing the much larger hand that’s covering yours. inspecting the patch of skin where jungkook just flicked.

without even an apology for the uncalled for assault, he nods at something over your head, probably taehyung, “you take care of my sister, you hear me? cause there won’t be a second time.”

and then he’s gone like the wind - you would have tracked down that wind and give him a taste of his own medicine like you did when you were children. you’d jump on his back and attempt to bite a chunk of his head if your nannies didn’t pull you apart - but right now, you couldn’t escape taehyung’s hand on your waist even if you wanted to.

“let me see,” he instructs, gently coaxing your hand to unclasp the patch of skin on your forehead so he could softly blow on it.

you stay like that, standing at the doorway with your bodies too close and taehyung refusing to unhand you until your cheeks are replaced with a different kind of heat than the anger you felt for your god forsaken brother.

“god he’s an ass - you should’ve messed up his face more,” you huff, and you don’t know why - maybe it’s the way you stomp your foot, maybe it’s the way your cheeks tend to puff when you’re feeling vindictive or maybe it’s a mystery locked in taehyung’s head that you’ll never know but his chuckles sound like hymns in your ears.

and you thought that was the end of the electrified sensation on your skin where his touch lingers until you feel a pair of the softest lips on your forehead, right where the flick was supposed to throb. a grinning taehyung looking back at you as if asking, “my nanny used to do this to me when i bump my knee against a furniture...” a flash of worry blooms in his eyes for the briefest moment before he voices his concerns, “hope the magic still works.

the sight is heartwarming. endearing even. and you can’t help smile, cheeks hot, “it does - it doesn’t hurt anymore.”

and just as you thought he’s about to release you from the torment of having your heart skip multiple beats at a time and step back, he presses another peck on your forehead. a smile gracing his features, “another one for good measure.”

it’s a surprise your legs are still holding you up with how jelly-like they’ve become.

“th-thank you.”

mrs. kim discharged herself a week after the fight but not without standing in front of the hospital with her frilly fur coat and gucci handbag while she looks at the camera and consequently straight into the screen, “i have yet received a publicly apology for what jeon jungkook did to mine by the jeons. my taehyung couldn’t even kill a fly, let alone start a fist fight-” she shivers uncontrollably as though overcome with chills, “such a barbaric, uncivilized act can only come from-”

“you’re watching that?” a smooth baritone fills the room as a figure struts in beige slacks and oversized creme sweater, “again?”

he sits on the edge the backrest of the couch, looking down at you with an expression that makes your stomach churn. with butterflies or guilt for breaking your promise to stop checking out these articles, you don’t know.

“sorry,” you mumble, placing the ipad down a few inches from your feet as you bring your legs up against your chest, arms wrapped tightly around them, “worrying about how the press twists mother’s words comes from the plentiful of time i have on my hands after being sacked, i guess.”

it’s been a week since you’ve received your new schedule. to which you received a call right after to head to the headquarters in the heart of seoul only to be told that-

“___, you gotta understand, this whole fiasco going on with your family... it’s giving the airline a bad rep,” mr. bang leaned back against his recliner, his eyes hiding behind the beam of his glasses, “people are leaving bad reviews on the website that has absolutely nothing to do with our services but has everything to do with you and your husband.”

he meant the growing dissatisfaction upon the revelation of the artificiality of you and taehyung’s marriage.

nobody’s caught jungkook and taehyung in a video but there’d been witnesses and ‘sources’ affirming the two getting into a fistfight at the hospital. and so another record has been made in your long list of family drama.

“sir, please,” you could feel your eyebrows joining together from the sheer frustration and reality anchoring into the pit of your stomach, “i’ve been working for korean air -for seven years now- check my reconds,” hope blooms in your chest as you suggest the idea to your superior, “i’ve never been late, never had a customer complain about me, never made any mistakes prior to this-”

“it doesn’t matter what you did before this, ___,” he cut you off, voice heavy with emphasis.

but you weren’t backing out that easy, “please, it’s not fair to lay me off for something i have zero control in.”

at your wording, the man physically flinched, almost as though struck by a spear before he shook his head, denying your claims.

“you’re not fired,” he corrected, “you’re on paid leave... until everything calms down.”

it took everything in you not to let the frown slip onto your face. first it’s paid leave and then it a one month notice before they officially sack you - you’ve seen how this played out one too many times.

so you smiled, “with all due respect, mr. bang, how long is ‘until everything calms down’?”

the man’s shoulder line jolted as he shrugged, lower lip jutted out in a nonchalant nature, “that depends on how you choose to solve it, ___... i assume you are working on a solution, yes?”

it was a trick question. if you answered the affirmative, it’d be admitting what mrs. kim and almost everyone have been demanding - a divorce. if you answered no, then you’re as good as jobless.

“my husband and i are working on it,” was all you say.

when taehyung found out later that night - he was livid. he was a phone call away from calling up mr. ji to sue the airline for discrimination. it took you stealing his phone away and running around the penthouse until you made him promise that he’d listen to you first.

he did, and you’d wanted to wait it out and see because, “there isn’t any damage to build our ground on anyway because i’m not fired yet.”

“well, dinner’s ready ” taehyung’s soft as silk voice tears you apart from your memroies, hand levitating midair until you take it, hoisting yourself up.

taehyung pushes himself off the couch, walking on the other side with your hand in his. it’s comical but endearing all at once and you giggle at how neither of you are willing to let the other go even though you’ll have to once you reach the four-people dining table.

“thank you,” you say as you lower yourself on the seat while he pushes the chair in for you.

home cooked meals have become a norm for the both of you ever since that day taehyung punched jungkook in the face. at first, you insisted that you should be the one cooking since he was injured but he stayed with you in the kitchen and you talked about your day and reminisced about your childhood and how you similarly had nannies that forbade you from coming into the kitchen.

then there was the peck on the top of your forehead he started doing a few days ago after you were sat and before he went around the table to get to his seat that’s across from you.

“did you go shopping today?” he asks in between cutting up the steak which he stole a whole plate from you into mini slices.

“yeah, with hwasa,” you nod - the woman had been all too delighted to see you after mismatched schedules and ghostly texts because of life and work getting in the way.

“the friend from high school?” taehyung surprises you yet again as he places your plate back in front of you, this time with the pieces all cut into edible bites. you’ve never mentioned hwasa to him - but it’s not a lie that she’s your closest friend from high school who got accepted into the same training programme as you at the beginning of your career.

“thank you-” you shoot him a smile before picking up the fork and knife, “and yeah, that’s her. we haven’t seen each other for months so we kind of went a little crazy with the dresses.”

he doesn’t look up when he speaks his next words which is why you have a trouble digesting them as you involuntarily blurt out a, “sorry- what?”

“the dresses you bought,” he reiterates, an amused smile on his lips - possibly because of your almost-choked state, “- can i see them?”

“oh,” clear your throat once, sipping down the red wine before chuckling nervously, “hwasa bought dresses - didn’t.”

taehyung hums, head tilting to the side as though trying to capture your avoidant gaze, “then put on whatever you bought that i saw lying on your bed - the door was open when i passed your room.”

at that moment, to say your heart quite literally crash against the floor, would be an understatement. it takes you a minute to gather yourself, another to force out a laugh as you attempt to brush the thought of taehyung seeing the black and red laces from savage x fenty hwasa adamantly insited you get after a story time on why you decided to get married to how something has definitely shifted between you and taehyung.

but no amount of gushing and squealing about made up scenarios brewing from hwasa’s little head could prepare you for what’s happening right at this moment.

“oh those?” a chuckle, “those are aren’t even worth showing.”

and just as you thought he’ll let the matter go like he would when you dismissively mention something that he inquired about, taehyung takes a full 180, eyes clouded with a sort of emotion you don’t dare delve into, “that’s for me to decide,” he takes a sip of the wine, pushing his chair back as he stands up, “i’m done,” with that, he places his plate down where geom, your mixed breen papillion and silky terrier shouts out an appreciative woof at the pleasant surprise.

patting the canine briefly, he turns to you, those clouded eyes seeping into your soul, “put them on - i’ll be waiting in my room.”

his footsteps echo against the walls as he ascends the stairs and disappears into the hallway where his room lies across from yours. it is a whole solid minute later, once you hear the door of his room click shut, that you make a beeline for the couch where your phone lies lonely.

dialing up the only person you know you can hold accountable for, you quite literally scream at the ‘hell-’ with a “hwasa, he wants me to put the lingerie on and show him!”

while your voice drips with dread, the other woman, choosing to be willfully oblivious, screams into your ears, “oh my god - oh my god. then what are you doing calling me?! go put them on!”

and that’s how you end up holding in a breath while deliberately repeating hwasa’s not so helpful pep talk of ‘you’re the hottest’ and ‘kim taehyung will be wrapped around your fingers by the end of the night!’

“but it’s been over a year - i’m not sure if i even know how to moan!” you’d protested while pull the strap of the garter around your thigh.

that was half an hour ago.

now, you’re debating on whether to knock like you would have before you started cuddling into the other while watching tv. but before that, you’d never did anything together unless it was family dinners and gatherings.

so you opt for pushing down the handle. the sharp ‘click’ being the only announcement of your entrance. taehyung’s walls are a deep shade of maroon almost black with the lights on its lowest setting. the sound of music playing in the background barely registers in your mind as you focus your attention to the figure that’s pushing himself up from his laying down position.

you resist the temptation to run and hide under the comfort your covers - an opposed response compared to your confident stride, placing one foot after the other until you stand a good two feet away from the bed and taehyung.

“what do you think?” the smile brandished over your face is nothing like your racing heart whlist you do a little twirl- but then again, you’ve always been such an actress.

“if the world were made of diamonds, i’d choose the rose before me... because you’re the most beautiful thing i’ve ever laid eyes on,” you wonder how he doesn’t even blink as those words pour out of his mouth, hand finding its way in the dip of your waist. staring. admiring.

“always the charmer,” you want to curse yourself for the unoriginal come back yet taehyung doesn’t seem to notice as he lets you push him to the bed whilst his eyes undress what little piece of clothing you have on as you crawl on top of him.

your toes curl at the sound of taehyung’s excruciatingly slow exhalation - almost as though he intends for it to caress your ears and seep into your pores before settling into the pit of your core.

the sharp charm of dior fills your senses as you place kisses on his neck, tucking his flesh between your teeth ever so gently, not expecting the delectable surprise that slips out of his mouth.

who would have thought kim taehyung was a moaner?

the giggle that trickles out of your mouth is blamelessly involuntary but catches his attention nonetheless, “what?”

“oh, nothing,” you nibble on his earlobe before whispering into his ears, “just thinking of how cute you’ll look moaning for me.”

and you’ve easily add to the long list of things you won’t forgive yourself in the morning. yet you still caress his growing size through his pants, giggling when the delicious sound hits the air for the second time.

“take it out,” he whimpers after one too many teases, “please.”

“only because you said please,” the way his chin tilts to follow your lips after you pecked them doesn’t go unnoticed by you but you clasp your hand against his chest, pinning him down with a shake of your head “uh-uh, you get up when i tell you to.”

the excruciating ‘fuck’ that leaves his lips is what truly lights up the flame in the pit of your stomach. you watch as his hand goes up to run through his hair in a sexually frustrated nature but doesn’t attempt to push himself up after that.

it only takes a few pumps for the clear fluid of precum to trickle over your hand, letting you smear all over his hardened dick and causing it to glisten underneath the luminescence of the room.

sparks shoot through your core and strike your heart into an erratic rhythm when you lower yourself over him, holding the slit of the black lace undergarment apart until he’s hitting every delicious inch inside of you.

you’ve barely even started to move when you break out into a cry, falling into his arms like a puppet whose strings got cut off. the arms around you are gentle as they hold you against him until you’ve come down from your high.

by the time you push yourself up, your knees are still trembling yet you nod when he cups your cheeks and forces you to look into those concern filled eyes, “are you good?”

“i’m fine,” the sniffle is probably the last thing you need to convince him, “i lost myself for a moment.”

this time, it’s his turn to chuckle, lips curling into a smirk, “it’s completely understandable to admit that you couldn’t hold out for more than a minute because i stretched you out so good.”

you want to protest - want to gain back the control you lost when he hit that sweet spot not even, yes, as he says, a minute into taking him in. but one single thrust right against that same exact spot and you’re whimpering in utter submission and devotion.

“that’s what i thought,” that damned smirk is the last thing you see before you succumb to his every wishes and command until you find yourself with a strong arm banded over your stomach, another arm reaching for a pillow and puffing it up before you feel yourself being gently lowered face flushed into it - the smallest gesture of tenderness that you didn’t expect to witness when you decided to tease him in the beginning.

the yelp when taehyung’s hands slip under the strap of the garter, doesn’t even manage to form fully when a moan replaces it as he yanks the garter and consequently, your ass against him, forcing you to swallow his entire length in one stroke.

“god, you’re so big,” if you were a little sober and a whole lot more conscious, you would have added that into the list of things you said that you would cringe at in the morning.

but you’re already one orgasm down in the foreseeable long list of orgasms that kim taehyung promises you as he sinks into you, moaning out your name like a holy mantra.

“i know you love it,” he agrees oh so innocently for someone who’s about to thrust into you like a godless being.

five strokes in and you’re cursing and screaming out in pleasure, hands gripping onto the duvet for dear life as you feel you convulse into a state of toe-curling euphoria. the way taehyung stops moving and trails down butterfly kisses down your back until the tensed muscles in your lower abdomen simmers down into pleasured twitches, doesn’t go by you.

“you can move now,” another sniffle, but this one has completely and irrevocably succumbed to your rawest desires.

it’s the soft chuckle and the one last peck on your left shoulder blade that has your heart stuttering. ungodly opposite to the way he moves his hips as he thrusts into you without so much as a warning - your last two orgasms were just preambles. ones out of the many that night that has you writhing and moaning in pleasure. some of which were incited by sides of you, you didn’t know existed.

the last thing you recall is taehyung gathering you in his arms like he couldn’t bear to be apart from you even in his sleep now that he’s had a taste. it’s endearing and daunting all at once. because for the first time since your marriage, you’re afraid of losing him.

a few days after that, you’re tying away on your macbook when taehyung comes home looking less like the man you knew. his hair, disheveled from having run his hand through them more than his hair gel allows. his eyes, carrying a sort of weight that latches onto him like parasites - or maybe that’s just the papparazzo that you noticed have been following you around. their numbers have decreased considerably after the rumor of taehyung hiring a team of lawyers which was no rumor at all.

it was the morning after you woke up with tingly legs barely able to function like it should and muscles sore but a sort of fullness in your chest when you noticed the man whose arms are wraped around you like a protective cocoon as he faintly snored away.

then came the muted sound of your phone from the other side of the hallway where your room door beckons you into its domain. it wasn’t as obnoxiously loud since it was at least twenty feet away and you would have ignored it and gone back to bed if not for the short interval signaling the person calling had finally reached the mailbox or hung up on their own. that was, before they hit call for the second time.

slipping out of taehyung’s arms, you trudged to your room with half a mind to give whoever this caller is a piece of your mind - god’s sake, the flashy red digits on your alarm clock stares at you at 5:23 in the morning.

“this better be good, hwasa or i swear-” before you can even finish the woman is already screaming into your ear like she’s being chased by an axe murderer.

“oh my god, oh my god - have you seen the news?!” except no woman chased by a murderer would sound this exhilarated, she went on before you could even get a “no one in their right mind would be checking the news at ass crack-” out.

“oh shoot, it’s still 5 something in korea, isn’t it?” she gasped - if you weren’t on paid leave, you’d be in hong kong, probably sharing rooms and getting tipsy in some club there, “but anyway, kadore’s chairman is suing insight, pullbbang and other websites for slander!” she shrieked.

"what?” you could feel the muscles on your face pulling into a contorted confusion but

after hanging up and telling hwasa you were going to look into the matter some more, you’d come up with multiple articles stating a similar fact as your overly enthusiastic best friend did. still in denial, you’d confronted your husband about it- he was still sleeping soundly when you strutted in and shook him up to which he confessed, eyes droopy and face puffy. the sight was so foreign to you because you were used to seeing him fresh and suited up but you’d found yourself making a little space in your heart for barely-just-woken-up-taehyung to reside in.

first came anger - you didn’t ask for him to do this, “what would everyone think if i went to you crying about a little bit of criticism for something i did do?” then came confusion because what exactly did you do that was so horrendously heineous to warrant these websites to write such malicious statements about you?

taehyung had seen every flash of emotions that pooled in your eyes and tugged on your fingers - you weren’t sure if he’d meant it but it successfully pulled you from drowning in your own thoughts, “i told you i’d make things right - these people won’t be able to say another word about you unless it’s the truth- that you’re a hardworking, amazing woman who deserves everything she has and yes,” he fixed you the most tender, sleepy smile “that includes the money i make - what’s the point of working if i can’t even provide my wife with the best?”

taehyung tosses the beige tuxedo onto the handrest of the couch adjacent to where you’re sitting with one leg up in nothing but a loose fitted sweater that hangs off your left shoulder. the half empty wine glass lies untouched on the coffee table since you’d put it down.

with a thump, he sinks himself into the leather material of the couch, hands cupping his face, as though if he rubs it hard enough, the deadset frown would go away.

before you know it, you’re padding over to the couch he’s on, hands finding their ways onto his shoulders, massaging the noticeable tension in his muscles until a grateful sigh slips out of his mouth, hand guiding your own to his lips where he presses a kiss on your knuckles.

only when you go around to take the spot next to him, hand smoothing out his hair, do you finally say, “is it the board again?”

mina has been keeping you updated on the turbulence that was caused by your fraudulent marriage being exposed. the chairman seat became taehyung by default when he got married as per his father’s will. but the board members have been vocal about abrogating his rights to succeeding kadore.

“there’s talk about votes demoting me to director,” he’s never sound so fragile - in taehyung’s long list of fluctuating interest from women and men to art and sculptures and to yatches and sports cars, kadore is probably the only thing he’s ever taken seriously.

you would know - seeing him decked in armani with soft wavy hair contrasting his strong features, weren’t your only reason for accepting his proposal of marriage. it had more to do with the way he spoke about the company. in a dimly lit room just like now, with a wine glass in his hand and the cityscape underneath that gave an illusion of stilled fireflies scattered all across the city, taehyung had spoken of his unforgivable regrets. the deals he’d let pass by. the merges he’d settled with instead of aiming higher. the brands he didn’t reach out to.

those regrets birthed fears and those fears were what made him even entertain the notion of a beneficial marriage.

or as the board likes to call it, an atrociously wickedly schemed marriage.

“they won’t have a ground to depose you to a director’s position if they can’t provide a solid reason,” you say and he blinks, clueless, hopeless.

it’s almost as if you’re facing a whole different man.

“what do you mean?”

“i’m talking about us doing what we do best,” you fix him a smile - one that probably needs a little convincing and grounding but a smile nonetheless, “we show them that the kims aren’t to be messed with,” you pause, letting the silence settle into brimming suspense before finally saying, “it’s been awhile since we’ve made a public appearance together, hasn’t it? how does lunch sound like?”

and so goes your multiple appearances in the most top notch restaurant together. the lack of chauffeur wasn’t intentional but helpful nonetheless to prove that the chairman was hopeless and irrevocably mad for his wife that he’d drive all the way to wherever she was to pick her up and then drive them to the designated restaurant instead of the convenience of meeting at said restaurant from wherever you both were prior to that.

then there was the hand holding, hip grabbing and not going a minute without smiling and giggling about what the other said. to outsiders, it would have looked as if things hadn’t been all that different - except you’d finally came out of your 1 billion doller cave after the whole ‘fiasco’ with your families. but it was the little hand kisses and forehead pecks in between taehyung making mini runs to get to your side to open your car door.

and the ‘how was your day’s and which are followed by a ‘you’re still deadset on working, huh?’s each time you told him about your in-the-work resume since you’re ‘at the risk of getting a notice of resignation any time soon’.

“what if you started your own business? i could buy a whole building in nonhyeon-dong that you could make as your headquarters?” he offers in between twirling the pasta around his fork after you insisted that- “my job is the only thing that i’ve got going on for me to prove that i’m not a gold-digger that everyone thinks i am.”

“i was thinking more like travelling from place to place like...” you shoot him a ‘you know’ smile before adding, “a cabin crew.”

“one of korean air’s biggest shareholders are letting go of her stock because her color pencil business isn’t doing so well these days,” he nods, deeply contemplative, “they’re gonna be sacking a few employees if they don’t get buyers by the next two months,” he surmises with a concluding nod to which you end up laughing and almost choking on your food.

picking up the water on your right, you quickly gulp it down before clarifying as to why you found his statement so funny that you’d risk your esophagus in the process, “no, tae,” that nickname is also one of the little things that just happens - you don’t miss the tuck in the corners of his lips when it slips off your tongue, “it’s sweet of you to want to buy me a share of the airline i’m working for but that’s the thing, it’s your money,” you reach out for his hand, smiling when he meets yours halfway.

a warm pressure engulfs your hand as he squeezes briefly, “and i told you, what’s mine is yours.”

“likewise,” you fix him a grateful smile, “but i like flying. i like being a cabin crew - on top of holding onto my job to prove people wrong, of course.”

the longest pause hovers over you like a grey clouds with taehyung’s beautiful but contemplating eyes holding you captive. as though trying to take you out part by part, trying to figure you out.

“then, what would you like me to do?” the question catches you off guard, like being hit by a wild baseball even though you’re walking right next to a baseball field, “you’ve always been so good at taking care of yourself - when you broke down in front of me... at the hospital... i didn’t know what to do-” his lips quiver just the slightest bit, almost as though holding back invisible tears, “tell me what to do. because it feels like everything i do isn’t the slightest bit helpful. ”

all of a sudden, the sands of time seem to have stopped, levitating midair within the dip of the hourglass. it’s daunting but heartbreaking at the same time - the sight of raw fear and uncertainty that’s pooling within taehyung’d eyes like unmoving river - you never knew your attempts to hold up your values reflects as a declaration of nonessential to taehyung’s own attempts to reach out to you.

“i don’t need you - to fight my battles, to solve my problems for me - though i’m immensely grateful that you did,” you say after what feels like an eternity, “but i want you so... stay as you are, supporting me like you’re doing now.”

“i don’t know if that counts as support - i’m not doing anything,” he counters, eyes downcasted until you reach out your other hand to cover his that’s already holding your left hand.

“you are - you never invalidated my feelings of wanting to work, you encouraged me to do bigger things and that means you believe in me - maybe i will take up that offer in the future but right now, i want to keep doing what i always have been,” you fix him a smile, “and i want to do it with you by my side.”

the tiniest of smile that slips onto his face tells you that his heart is still in a state of unrest. unconvinced. but he’s trying as he nods, “if that’s what you want,” and you thought that’s the end of it. until the foreshadowing “but,” that comes a second later, “i’m not gonna stop worrying and trying to fix things - we’re married, your problems are my problems too.”

the chuckle escapes your mouth signifies the good natured jest of your next words as you summon your hands back, already missing the warmth of his much larger ones around you, “well we weren’t exactly on that term until just recently.”

a shadow casts itself over taehyung’s handsome face as he picks up his fork, “that’s something i’ll regret for the rest of my life - not getting to know you beyond the contract sooner.”

“everyone makes mistakes,” you shrug before taking a peek at his expression as you mention a certain free spirited woman, “besides, you were too caught up with jeongyeon on our first year of marriage.”

she had been one of the few people who’d managed to bring out a side of taehyung you never knew existed.

boyish. bratty. someone who actually bicker and whines about the littlest things and everything that was on the opposite spectrum the crisp, suit-wearing, slicked back hair, charming man you married. sometimes, when you go out to dinners or the little moments when you find yourselves alone while attending functions, you see glimpses of that playful, boyish side of him. the human side of him.

over time, you realize that that’s also part of what makes taehyung... well, taehyung. it’s just only recently that you start seeing more than glimpses of these sides behind closed doors.

the way his eyes widen is enough for you to know that you’ve hit the nail right on its head. if the incomprehensible stuttering isn’t, “that... i was... we didn’t-”

“i know,” you fix him a jesting smile, “you may be a certified charmer for the most part but you’re not a homewrecker, tae.”

lunch goes on with you talking about how your father and brother are thrilled to have you and taehyung over for your monthly dinner. to which the man was partly confused and partly shivered in his seat at the thought of sitting down at a table with two of your favorite men in the world no doubt shooting him daggers while you’re not watching - or pretend that you don’t notice.

“i can’t avoid father forever,” he laments, finally giving into his fate as you walk out the restaurant, “and i have a lot of owning up to do to your family.”

“as do i,” you hum in agreement once before murmuring a ‘thank you’ as he holds the car door open after tipping the valet.

it’s only five minutes into the ride, once the car rolls to a stop at a red light does he turn to you, “you know, you don’t have to... with mom, reconciliation is a two way thing and she...” you notice the way his grip tightens around the wheel, eyes darkening as he breathes in, grounding himself “- she even made you file for divorce.”

the papers she’d given you that day still lied in your drawer, hidden away from taehyung’s pyromaniac hands. you’d caught him almost setting them on fire when you he found it lying on the counter after he’d returned home. all because spent a good chunk of the afternoon staring at it before leaving it to take a hot bath, not realizing taehyung would be home any time soon. ever since then, he hadn’t been on speaking terms with mrs. kim. turned down offers for dinners and luncheons, as he had directly told her in front of you through a phone call, “...not until you apologize to ___ first.”

“tae, mother was hurt by our lies and i understand why, i can’t promise i’ll be as accepting if i found out the daughter-in-law i cherished so much didn’t marry my son for love like i thought they did,” you lightly pat his hand that’s on the gear but instead he captures your fingers between his and guide them to his lips as he traps you within those beautiful eyes.

“you’re too kind for your own good, you know that?” there they are again, hazel underneath the light. but clouded with a sort of emotion you can’t pinpoint.

but before you can even muster a word, his eyes are already focused on the road as the car propels itself forward. but he doesn’t let go of your hand. he keeps it twined with his between yours and the gear. almost as if he didn’t want to be apart from you if he could help it. and neither could did you as you rub tiny motions into the back of his hand.

in your defense, you’ve stolen a precious gem from her that no money or gold could ever replace. and no matter how much you cherish the bond that formed after hours spent on shopping, tea times and mother-daughter (in-law) vacations, you’re not kind enough to unwrap him from your little fingers.

a smile curls on your lips as you guide taehyung’s hand to yours, placing a kiss on his knuckles and watching as his own lips tuck at the corners.

you’ll just have to make it up to mother some other way.

note. if you enjoy this then please leave a comment either below or in my inbox! and check out the other members’ installments to the series filed under ‘verse’ on top!

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

Text

Born to Run

Warnings: dark elements including noncon and rape, fingering, kidnapping, guns, and other explicit content.

This is dark!Frank Castle and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are forced onto the road when an unwanted passenger gets in your backseat.

Note: So I’m gonna tag @allaboardthereadingrailroad because I promised them I’d write Frank and I finally got to it and it was loads of fun!

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

You sighed as you rolled to a stop behind the yellow taxi. You craned your neck to try to see around the lines of cars, another deadlock in New York traffic. You couldn’t be surprised as you idled in one spot and leaned your hand on the wheel as you checked the time.

You heard a siren, saw lights flashing ahead, and heard shouts. Again, not unusual for the city.

You rubbed your forehead as the sun beat down through your window and the humidity built as it leaked in through your open window. You tried not to use the AC too much as it made your old Chrysler overheat in the annual New York heatwave. You shifted in your seat and pulled against the belt as you tried once more to peer past the crowded vehicles.

You heard heavy footsteps, several sets echoing from all directions. A figure appeared on the other side of your car and the back door was ripped open. The man ducked as he slammed the door behind him and laid across the seat. He rolled down onto the floor, a sudden invasion that shocked you.

“What the fuck--get out of my car!” you snarled.

“Honey, you’re gonna wanna keep it down,” he said as his large body barely fit in the crevice between the seats.

“What--”

He poked a gun up towards you and waved it, “eyes forward,” he said, “hands on the wheel, and turn the music up.”

“I don’t have any money--”

“I don’t want your money now shut up,” he hissed, “now you keep it up and I’ll blow a hole through your seat… pity you’re on the other side.”

Your adrenaline spiked and the pounding in your temples deafened you. You turned the knob of the radio to drown out the pulsing and the man’s ragged breaths. Several others appeared, several dressed as officers and few in civilian clothing. You grasped the wheel and made yourself stare at the license plate ahead of you.

The search party dispersed as they called out to each other and the cab slowly crawled forward. The man squinted up through the window as the cars around you began to move as well.

“Drive,” he said.

“What do you want?” you asked shakily as you pressed lightly on the gas.

“To do what I tell you,” he barked and wiggled uncomfortably on the floor, “you keep driving until you’re out of the city and then maybe we’ll talk.”

“It’s rush hour, that could take ages,” you huffed.

“So take ages,” he growled, “you don’t stop ‘til I tell you, got it?”

You nodded and cleared your throat, “uh huh,” you looked in your rearview as a gunshot rang, “exit?”

“Whatever gets you out of New York now shut up and drive.”

You did as he said. You made your way at a snail’s pace until traffic began to thin out and you turned away from your usual route.

“Tell me what street you’re on when you turn,” he ordered, “don’t fuck around with me.”

You looked at the sign and read it aloud. You followed a silver Civic to the next and again recited the name on the dented sign. You checked the clock again. Your meeting would have already started, that was probably why your bag wouldn’t stop vibrating.

“Give me your phone,” he said. You reached over blindly and grabbed your purse. You dropped it to him and he quickly unzipped it, “roll the window down,” again, you obeyed as you recalled the sight of the gun.

He pulled apart your phone and you glanced back over your shoulder. He had the back of and the battery in his hand. “Hey--”

“Keep your eyes on the road,” he flung the battery out the window and bent the phone in half. He tossed it too and righted his gun to aim over the console, “go on.”

“You can take the car, please… people will look for me,” you pleaded.

“Not for a while,” he laid back and gripped the gun, “now someone sees you arguing with your windshield and they gonna get curious so shut up and enjoy the… is that music?”

You changed the station with a flick of your finger, you barely registered the smoky tones of Springsteen as you focused on steering and reading out the street names. Your veins burned as our blood pumped wildly from your racing heart and the man’s scent tickled your nostrils; he smelled of blood and sweat. You hoped he didn’t add your own to the stains on his jeans.

💀

It was dark as your car dinged. You swore and looked ahead for a sign. You shook your head and blew out a long breath.

“I need gas,” you said to the phantom in the back seat.

He grunted as he pushed himself up from the floor and sat up, “gotta be a station close.”

“And if there isn’t?”

“Then we get out and push,” he scoffed, “stop worrying about ‘if’ and find us a station.”

You rolled your eyes. The man was annoying, even if he was terrifying. You scratched your nose and sat forward with a yawn. “I’d know if you hadn’t destroyed my phone.”

“See, right up there,” he ignored your gripe, “yellow sign just ahead.”

“Christ,” you huffed and blinked at the black road.

“I’m sure you had some real important business,” he grumbled, “but I’m sure the coffee can make itself.”

“Excuse me? Fuck off, I’m not some--”

“You’re gonna miss your turn,” he warned and you flipped your signal on.

You pulled into the station and he scooped up your purse. You shut the car off and unbuckled your belt. You twisted in your seat to watch him search your purse. He pulled out your wallet and counted the bills inside.

“Right, we fill up then we’re back to it,” he opened the door and stepped out.

He uncapped your tank and pulled a hose from the meter. He slid it into the slot and kept a hand lazily on the handle. You slowly opened your door and got out. You looked at him over the top of the car as he scowled at you, it was the first good look you got at him.

His dark hair was shaved on the side but he had about and inch or two up top, his nose was crooked, and his dark eyes were set beneath a forehead that betrayed a frequent grimace. You looked at the lights of the station then back at him.

“I gotta… go pee,” you said.

“You wait,” he said, “I’ll go with you.”

“What?”

“You think I’m stupid?” He released the level and tapped the nozzle as he pulled it out, “hold your horses, I’m comin’.”

He put the hose back in and stomped over to you. You saw the gun tucked into his belt and he pulled his jacket over it. He snatched the keys from you and grabbed your arm and marched you to the blazing door of the station.

“You have one minute before I come in and drag you out, pants down or not,” he tore open the door and shoved you through.

You curled your lip as he took a few sticks of jerky from a display and approached the counter. As you got to the sign over the restroom, you looked back as he stared at you. He raised a thick brow and tapped his wrist as if he wore a watch; he did not.

You went into the bathroom and locked the heavy door behind you. You looked around the grimy room and shuddered at the stained toilet bowl. You stepped up on the seat and looked out the small window above. It might be big enough if you suck in.

You stepped on the pipe beside the handle and pushed on the pain. It was just as gross as the rest of the room. The pane finally popped out and you hauled yourself over the high ledge. The glass didn’t quite open wide enough so you had to bend as you wiggled through. You had a high chance of landing on your head but you really didn’t want to chance worse with that man.

You kicked as you were lodged halfway through the window and a knock came at the door, “better pull your pants up,” your abductor called through the door.

You struggled to force yourself through as you tried to angle your hips past the frame. The door burst open with a frightening kick and you flailed your legs as you tried to hit the man blindly and keep him away. He caught your ankles and pulled you back. You cried out and grabbed the window frame so that you didn’t crash down into the toilet.

“Hey, let me go,” you tried to kick him again and he batted away your foot.

“You do that again and you won’t have a safe landing,” he tugged again and you nearly lost your grip on the ledge, “now come on.”

“You got my wallet, my keys, everything, so why don’t you just leave me--”

“Don’t make me count,” he sounded like a father.

“Count? Oh, come on, what am I gonna do? Just let me go.”

“Three,” he swung you just a little, “two,” he gripped your legs firmly, “O--”

“Okay!” you shouted, “okay, just-- let me down.”

Cautiously he bent and put your feet on the floor. He stood and you pushed yourself straight. He grabbed your arm and spun you to face him. He bent and rammed his shoulder into your stomach as he scooped you up. You yiped and pounded on his back as he turned and carried you out of the restroom.

As he strutted down the aisle, the clerk stared at you in confusion. The man reached the door and paused, “on her rag, she gets a bit pissy.” He left the store with a chime and carried you across the lot, “you want the trunk or are you gonna be good?”

You pulled on the back of his jacket and gritted your teeth, “would you put me down?”

“I won’t ask again so either you choose or I do,” he said as he neared the car.

“Alright, alright,” you snarled as he popped the trunk, “I’ll be good just don’t-- not in there.”

He harrumphed and walked around to close the trunk. He brought you up to the passenger side and dropped you on your feet. Dizzy, you grabbed onto the car and he ripped the door open, narrowly missing you with it.

“In,” he pointed to the seat.

You glared at him and stepped under his arm. You sat and he closed the door with a snap. He rounded the hood and the car dipped as he sat in the driver’s seat. He fumbled with keys and shoved them in the slot. He turned the ignition and shifted in the seat.

He took a stick of jerky from his pocket and peeled the plastic. He took a bite as he put the car in drive. He pulled out with one hand on the wheel and chewed noisily and he siphoned through the radio station with his greasy finger. You buckled your seatbelt out of habit and crossed your arms.

“Get some shut-eye,” he gristled, “you’ll be drivin’ once the sun comes up.”

“Where the fuck are you taking me?” you groaned.

“Dunno, far,” he answered bluntly, “no talk, just sleep.”

“I’m not a dog,” you muttered.

“Keep actin’ like one and I’ll get you a leash,” he snorted.

“I really don’t get why you don’t just take the car--”

“As useless as I’d agree you are, you’ve seen my face and the longer I keep you from running back and snitching, the better chance I got,” he adjusted the seat as he chewed the last of the salted meat, “but there is another option?”

“There is?” you asked.

“Yeah, I could kill you,” he chuckled.

You swallowed and exhaled as you leaned your head back heavily. You peeked over at him as he focused on the road and as much as you wanted to leap from the moving car, you knew that would be just as fatal. So you huddled down and closed your eyes.

“Would you turn that down?” you nodded at the radio.

“You askin’ me to turn down a classic?” he turned the knob and Robert Plant’s voice whined from the speakers, “a nice little lullaby for you.”

You closed your eyes and turned in the seat so that you faced the door, the belt strained against you awkwardly but you didn’t care. You crossed your legs and tried to drown out the music. Even without the racket, you wouldn’t sleep easy.

💀

You woke after hours of uncomfortable sleep in the car seat. The car was still as you yawned and groaned as your stiff muscles rebelled. You sat up as you heard the sound of water hitting the dirt. The man was just outside with his back to you, pissing on the side of the road.

You looked to the ignition but the keys weren’t there. He finished up and zipped up noisily. He opened the door and bent to look at you. He kept his hand on the door as his eyes met yours.

“Get out, stretch your legs, you gotta piss, there’s a bush,” he jabbed his other thumb behind him.

“Really?”

“Or you can keep holding it,” he shrugged and closed the door. He walked around the front of the car and pushed an arm over his head to stretch his shoulder. You took a breath as your irritation bubbled and reached for the door handle.

You got out and held in a grunt. You walked around the back of the car and glanced around. The bush was small and poor cover. Even so, you really had to go as you spent your only opportunity trying to sneak out of the station. You looked at him and neared the leafy bunch. He blinked at you and turned his back.

“I hear any funny business,” he said over his shoulder, “you can piss your pants instead.”

You shoved your pants down and squatted. You let out a steady stream and almost sighed as the pressure left your pelvis. When you finished, you waited until you were relatively dry and pulled your pants back up.

“All done,” you said as you went back to the car. He shook his head and pointed you to his side.

“You drive, sign says there’s a motel about an hour down the road,” he opened the driver’s door.

You got in and he snapped the door shut before he went to the other side. He settled in the seat and slid the keys into the ignition, turning it until the engine rumbled. He leaned back and pushed his fingers back against his palm.

“Right, let’s go.”

You sniffed and pulled back onto the empty highway. You’d never been down that one before, an old country road with sparse exits. He pushed on his jaw until his neck snapped and you winced. You hated the noise.

“So, what do I call you then?” you asked.

He was silent and you felt him watching you, “like you care.”

“I don’t but looks like I’m stuck with you, so…”

“Mmm,” he pulled out some more jerky, “Frank.”

You nodded and stared at the endless road ahead. He said your name before you could.

“Saw it in your wallet,” he explained.

You drove in silence from there until he flipped the radio on. He chose a country station and you silently cursed his taste. You followed the signs and he pointed you to the old motel as you approached it. You thought of hitting the gas but that would do nothing but piss him off and probably get you hurt. Worse, you’d be stuck in the car with him for who knew how long.

You steered into the lot and he yanked the keys out of the ignition before you could. You mirrored him as he got out but he stomped over to your side. He leaned in as he lowered his voice.

“You can play along,” he pushed his jacket open and showed the butt of his gun, “or there’s still room in the trunk.”

“Fine,” you muttered.

“I mean it, you try anything,” he rested his hand on the gun, “you really wanna get someone else hurt?”

You nodded and chewed your lip, “I get it, okay?”

He pulled his jacket closed again and took your elbow, ushering you up to the front of the motel. You wriggled away as you reached the door and entered ahead of him. He drew you back as he followed you through the door and cleared his throat. The woman at the front desk looked up over her glasses and set aside the novel with a shirtless man on the cover.

“Good afternoon,” she sang as she swiveled in her chair, “how can I help you two today?”

“We need a room,” Frank said as he pulled out a wad of money.

“Deposit’s three-hundred, sir,” the woman replied, “can I get a name?”

“Ben Tacker,” he lied smoothly as he counted out the money.

“Alright, and a piece of ID?” she asked.

“Funny thing,” he peeled a fifty free and held it over the desk to her, “I lost it.”

She stared at him and slowly took the bill. She shoved it in her pocket and counted the rest out. She handed him a paper to sign and he scribbled without caring. She handed him the key and he thanked her in the same gruff voice.

“You two have fun,” she called after him as he swung open the door and waved you out.

He chuckled and shook his head, “sure will,” he said before the door shut again.

He looked at the number on the tag and led you to the door with the same. He unlocked it and waited for you to enter. The lock clicked as he trailed you and brushed past you as he went to the closet. You watched in confusion as he pulled out a stack of extra bedding and shared shredding the tinged top sheet.

He took one of the strips as he neared you. You backed up against the door and he wrenched you away as he pulled the single chair up behind you. He sat you down and held your wrist against the narrow arm of the chair. As he began to wind the strip around your wrist, you twisted and he squeezed so hard your fingers went numb.

“Can’t trust ya but I gotta get some sleep,” he growled as he finished tying your first hand. He went back and took another strip of linen, he repeated the process on your other arm and both your legs.

“And what if I have to pee?” you pulled against the bounds but only added to your discomfort.

“Hold it,” he shrugged and took the remote. He flipped on the television and pushed the control into your hand, “there. I don’t wanna hear another word.”

“You’re not serious? You’re just gonna leave me like this?”

“I coulda left you in the trunk,” he turned and walked around the foot of the bed, he plopped down with a sigh, “you should be thanking me?”

He untied his boots and kicked them off. He pulled off his jacket and tossed it over the far side of the bed. He set the gun on the table beside the lamp and stretched his arms behind his head. As he laid back, he shifted awkwardly and dug in his pocket, he tossed your credit card up onto the table with a flick.

“Now, don’t go pullin’ shit or we won’t get that deposit back,” he groaned as he wiggled to get comfortable, “not my money so I don’t really care either way.”

“You… asshole,” you huffed and he smirked.

“I think an asshole woulda just taken the car,” he said, “and left you with a hole in your head.”

You clamped your lips together and shook your head. You hit a button and searched through the channels. You didn’t really care what you watched, you wouldn’t be able to pay attention anyway. You stopped at an old episode of NewsRadio and let the remote rest on the end of the arm.

The laugh track filled the interminable silence and after some time, low snores rose from the bed. You peeked over at Frank, his arm slung over his face as his chest rose and fell steadily. He might be irritating but you had enough sense to be afraid of him. If you had to guess, he was ex-military and judging by your inopportune meeting, he was also a wanted man.

You fidgeted as much as you could in the chair and turned back to the screen. It was as if the recorded guffaws were at your expense. You slumped as the cotton chafed around your wrists and yawned. Your back was still stiff from your nap in the car and the chair was little better with its thin pleather cushioning and short back.

💀

You didn’t remember falling asleep, not until you woke up in terrible pain. Your head hung over as you were nearly folded over your lap entirely, your bound arms holding you just above. You groaned as you pushed yourself up and it sent a pang up your neck. You heard the rattle of pipes and looked over at the empty bed.

You let out a strained breath and moved your head side to side, just slightly as the pain lingered and throbbed with each pivot. You balled your hands in fists and tried to twist your arms against the linen. You flexed your legs too, wiggling your feet as you tried to loosen the ties.

The chair began to rock as you fought against your restraints. The remote fell to the floor and the television kept blaring. As you were sure you just needed a little more, the chair tipped and you bounced off the side of the bed as it crashed down onto its side. The impact had your head spinning and shower faucet squeaked off.

You kept moving your arms and legs, desperate to free yourself before he could discover you. There was no hiding your intent anymore. The bathroom door opened and your heart swelled. Shit. You hissed as you heard his footsteps and looked up as his shadow loomed over you.

Frank stood in nothing but a towel, his thickly muscles torso still damp as he glared down at you. You cringed and tried not to see more than you wanted.

“I gotta take a leak,” you lied, well, not exactly untrue.

“Uh huh,” he hummed doubtfully and grabbed the chair.

He hauled you back up and planted the chair back in place. He shook his head at you and retreated. He pulled one of the white robes from the hook on the wall and pulled it over the towel. He tied the belt tightly and dropped the other layer before he disappeared back into the bathroom.

When he emerged again, you watched him dully, “I really do have to go,” you said.

He ignored you and checked his gun. He slid open the drawer and set it inside.

“Well,” he came around the bed, “I got some bad news for you, There’s no window in there,” he grabbed the strip around your left wrist and unknotted it, “so, I’ll give you two minutes.”

He untied you and watched as you rubbed your wrists. You stood with a wince as your legs ached but he didn’t back up. You sidled past him and he turned to keep his dark eyes on you as you approached the bathroom. You swung the door shut and nearly collapsed on the other side.

The bathroom smelled of the gardenia scented soap that came with the room and there was still moisture in the air. You relieved yourself quickly and stood to gaze into the mirror. You looked awful, you felt awful. You splashed your face with cold water and leaned heavily on the porcelain.

Whether you listened to that man or not, you were fairly certain the result would be the same. You could see it now, the black barrel of the gun, his finger on the trigger. You shuddered and shook out your hands as if to get rid of your nerves. You stood straight and groaned as you stretched out the knots in your limbs and back.

You went back into the hotel room as you rubbed your neck, the needling pain still buried at the base of your skull.

“Tell you what,” he said as he sat on the bed and aimed the remote at the screen, “I can tie you up again or you can make both our lives easier and just lay down.”

“Is there a third option?” you winced as another jolt went through your spine.

He snickered and pointed to the pillows, “we’re leavin’ early,” he said, “so you can sleep now or sleep in the car.”

You gave no response as you went around the other side of the bed. You eased yourself down against the pillow and let out an unwitting groan. It felt good to lay down. You turned onto your side, your face away from him, and he finally stopped switching stations.

You closed your eyes and hugged yourself as his weight rested at the bottom of the bed. It wasn’t hard to drift off as the pain chased you into unconsciousness and the stress of the last day shrouded your mind. You only hoped he wasn’t waiting for you in your dreams.

💀

The night's stay was taken out of the deposit and you were back on the road to nowhere. The man gave you gruff directions as he closed his eyes in the passenger seat. At night, you switched and you grew complacent as the endless travel wore on your wits. You didn't know why he wouldn't just let you go. He could take the car and the last of your money and just leave you alone. Likely the separation would be preferable to both parties.

Another motel after a week of driving and you were thankful to be standing still. You were asleep on your feet as you dragged your feet behind your grumpy captor and as you leaned on the front desk and bid farewell to even more of your cash, you barely processed the conversation happening around you.

Frank's arm wrapped around your waist and he pulled you close. You flinched and sneered at him. You felt so gross, you didn’t want to be touched, let alone by him. The desk clerk handed him a key and chuckled.

“It’s been a long trip,” Frank said, “think we just need some R and R.”

You blinked at him stupidly as he turned you around and swept you out the door. Outside, you shoved him away and stumbled as he laughed at your pathetic effort.

“What the fuck was that about?” you scowled.

“Well, you looked like you were about to keel over, just tryna keep you on your feet,” he jingled the keys and led you up to the second level.

“Don’t do that again,” you mumbled as you waited for him to unlock the door.

“Sure, honey,” he said mockingly as he slid the key out and kicked the door open, “come on.”

Just like last time, he locked the door and you looked around at the small room, a single queen and another rickety chair.

“Please, don’t,” you said as you crossed the room, “I’ll stay, just don’t tie me up. I need to lay down.”

“You need to wash the road off ya,” he quipped as he peeked into the bathroom, “ladies first.”

You stared at him and tilted your head. He might have kept you alive so far but you could hardly trust him. After all, you weren’t exactly there by choice. You tiptoed forward, warily eyeing him as you got closer. He stepped back and crossed his arms.

“You might not be able to smell ya but I can,” he nodded through the door, “ten minutes.”

You stepped inside and he snapped the door shut behind you. You sat on the toilet and rubbed your eyes. You looked down at your clothes, rumpled and stained with sweat and filth. You took a moment and stood to strip off the layers one at a time.

You cranked on the shower and stepped under the stream. The shower curtain rang as you pulled it around the tub and you basked in the hot water. It felt good and your muscles relaxed as rivulets trailed down your skin. You scrubbed with the vague floral scented soap and scrubbed until you felt a little more like yourself.

Reluctantly, you turned the faucet off and reached for the towel on the bar. You lowered your foot onto the tile and patted yourself as you stared at your blurred silhouette in the steamy mirror. A knock sounded at the door and had you wrapping yourself in the white cotton.

“Ay, they got some machines here,” his voice scratched, “should probably wash those rags up while we’re here.”

You tucked the towel in at the top and gathered up your clothes. You neared the door hesitantly and cracked it open. You peeked out at him as he watched you impatiently.

“Figure you can’t run naked… well, if you try, it won’t be so easy,” he remarked. You shoved your clothes through wordlessly, “there’s some robes out here when you’re done with your sauna, princess.”

You rolled your eyes and shut the door. You heard him chuckle and move around the room as he grumbled under his breath. You waited for the other door to open and close before you emerged.

You took the robe folded over the bottom of the bed and tied the belt tight around your waist. You sat on the bed, your back to the frame and switched on the television. You thought of running but he was right, even if you eluded him, you doubted there were many who wouldn’t do worse to a barely clothed woman, not out there in the middle of nowhere.

He returned shortly and dropped a haul of processed foods on the bed from the vending machines. He wore a robe as well but it was smaller on him and the flimsy white slippers provided with the room. He shuffled through his trove of salt and sugar.

He took the two cups and placed them on the small round table and filled the kettle from the bathroom sink. He plugged it in and flipped the switch. “Hope you like chicken noodle,” he said.

You read the guide on the TV and punched in the channel playing re-runs of Law and Order. It was a grim choice but you just needed to disassociate from the dingy motel. The kettle clicked and his shadow flickered in your peripheral. Frank sat and the mattress dipped beside you. He held out a steaming cup with a plastic spoon sticking out of it.

“Thanks,” you took it and leaned back as you stirred the boiling soup.

“We’ll grab some burgers at the next stop,” he grizzled, “Fuckin’ starvin’.”

You said nothing and stared at the lawyers arguing on screen with the detectives. They were trying to figure out how a woman ended up in a motel with marks around her neck; dead. A chill went through you and you slowly glanced over at the man beside you.

He squinted and returned your gaze. His mouth slanted and he shook his head, “really?” he challenged nonchalantly.

You took a deep breath and turned back to the screen. You sipped at the hot broth and scooped up noodles as you tried not to think about being strangled to death on the bathroom floor.

When you finished, you set the empty cup aside and slid under the covers as the afterglow of the shower weighed down your limbs. You just wanted to sleep. If he did decide to kill you then, you wouldn’t even know the difference.

He grabbed a candy bar from the mess and sat back, jarring the whole bed as he did. You rolled onto your side and pulled a pillow over your head. You squeezed your eyelids shut and tuned out the old tube television and the chewing of the man behind you. Sleep crept up on you in haze, half-aware of the muffled voices and the movement on the other side of the bed.

You pushed the pillow away as it grew warm beneath and sleepily pulled it under your head. You heard the distant noise of the pipes. Groggy, you sank back into a shallow sleep as the constant noise lulled you.

You were disturbed again when you were jostled and the television shut off. You felt him behind you and wiggled closer to the edge. He barely seemed bothered as he stretched out and you felt the heat radiating from his body. You drifted off once more, dreaming about the eternal highway and Frank’s bristly orders.

You snorted awake, this time from a haze so deep it felt as if you’d been drowning. You felt the arm over the middle, heavy and firm, and the hot breath on your neck. Your lashes fluttered, threatening to close again, but your adrenaline forced your eyes open.

He was flush to your back, his hard body against your back as his hand was slid into the opening of your robe. His rough fingertips rested against your soft torso, just beneath your breast.

“Frank,” you rasped and tugged on his wrist, “the fuck are you doing?”

He groaned and shushed you as he nestled closer. You went rigid as you felt a prod against your ass. You grabbed him more firmly but could not move his hand as he squeezed you tighter. His hand glided up against your resistance and he cupped your chest. You gasped and pulled at his long fingers.

“Frank, get your fuckin’ hands off of me--”

He ignored you and rolled his thumb over your nipple. Your breath caught in your throat and tried to push yourself up. He held you down as he snaked his other arm beneath your.

“Honey, just relax,” he said drowsily, “I ain’t hurtin’ ya.”

“Get off!” you slapped the back of his hand.

“Mmmm,” he purred and nuzzled the back of your head, “you smell like flowers.”

“Frank--”

“What else are we gonna do, honey?” he asked and his breath tickled your ear, “hmmm.”

He nibbled at your lobe and a chill went through you. You pressed your hands to his and knew he could feel the frantic beating of your heart. You shivered as his arousal poked against you again. You gulped and gasped as suddenly rolled onto his back and pulled you up onto him.

Your robe fell loose as you laid atop him, your back to his hard torso as his other hand roved lower. You squirmed and grasped at his wrists. He easily ignored you as he kneaded your tit and his other hand slid along your vee. You held your breath and pushed your legs together.

“That’s your problem, you just need to let go,” he hummed and brushed his fingertips down the line of your leg, “come on and open up for me.”

You shook your head against his shoulder and he pinched your thigh. You yelped and he did it again. You hit his hand and he laughed, a deep rumble that flowed through you. He dug his nails into your flesh as he continued to fondle your chest with his other hand.

You whimpered as he threatened to break the skin and let your legs fall open around his. He slid his fingers between your folds and over your clit. You gasped and he swirled his fingertips, sending a bolt of electricity through you. You gripped his thick wrist and gritted your teeth as you tried to resist the fire in your core.

“What d’ya think you’re still around for, huh?” he slithered as he poked around your cunt, pressing his fingers to your entrance.

You murmured a weak protest as your eyes rolled up and you stared at the wall above the bed. You huffed between your teeth as he shoved two fingers inside you. You clenched around them and your nerves rippled with the wave of pleasure.

His palm rubbed against your clit as he rocked his hand slowly and you shook your head, fighting the unwelcome thrumming as it pulsed deep within you.

His fingers slipped easily in and out of you as you slickened and reached back unthinkingly to curl your fingers into his sides. He moved his hand faster, the friction building to a spark. You closed your eyes as your nails pressed against his muscles and your legs bent around his.

You spasmed as you came, your surrender declared with a pathetic squeak. He didn’t stop until you were panting uncontrollably, your head lolling on his shoulder as you bit the tip of your tongue. When he pulled his fingers out, you whined at the sudden emptiness.

He rubbed his wet fingers along your cunt and spread your lips as he snaked his other hand beneath your leg. He tore open the tails of his robe and angled his tip against your opening. He urged you onto him, sliding you down his body until your back arched to accept him. You moaned as he entered you and the overwhelming fullness fueled your helpless voice.

“Hmm, honey,” her purred as his hot breath touched your scalp, “just what you needed, isn’t it?”

You sputtered as he moved his hips beneath you, rocking into you from below as he planted his feet in the mattress. He lifted you carefully and kept an arm around your middle as his other toyed with your sensitive bud. His thick breaths clouded around you as he moved your body in time with his.

He hooked his arm around around your left leg and pulled it higher, doing the same with your right as he fucked you harder. He reached from below to keep his thumb on your clit, your legs folded against your chest. He growled in your ear and bit the lobe again. You clawed at the blanket below him as he used you so easily, your shame smothered by your pleasure.

You orgasmed again and as your walls clenched around him, he groaned and his legs slipped down straight. He turned onto his side and quickly rolled you onto your stomach as he forced your legs down. He pinned you beneath him, weaving his arm through yours as he pulled them back as his twined his fingers behind your head.

He kept you pinned beneath him as his flesh clapped against yours loudly. You moans seeped into the pillow and his animalistic grunts punctuated each thrust. The bed shook beneath your bodies and he pushed his thigh up around yours. He sat up, still bucking his hips as he pulled your arms back and forced you to arch with him.

He gripped your elbows as he hammered into you. Your moans turned to whines as he pounded your walls and you gulped down air desperately. He growled and you felt his body tense as his hold on you broke. He shoved your head down against the pillow, almost suffocating you as he once more sped up.

He snarled and his motion grew spasmodic. He slowed and his hips jolted into you in jagged thrust. He emptied himself into you as his long fingers stretched over your scalp. Finally, he stopped, still straddling you as he heaved a shaky sigh. He sniffed and trembled as he ran his hand down your back.

“Really makes me happy I didn’t put a bullet in ya,” he rasped, “real…” he squeezed your hips and pushed in as deep as he could go, “happy.”

#frank castle #dark frank castle #dark!frank castle #frank castle x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #the punisher #marvel #one shot

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phantaloon-books · 4 years

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Things about Tower of Nero that I want to highlight to remember them forever:

Lu being an absolute badass woman, I just love her too much

Piper McClean being canon wlw, she was actually kissing another girl, we really fell in love in october

Chaos being canonically female (just chaos being mentioned as a deity rather than what's below tartarus)

nobody DIED, like no one on the good side at least?? yes plenty of beings have died throughout TOA, but nobody died in TON?? so many died in TLO and BOO, I expected to mourn someone and I didn't have too??! it made me so happy

solangelo. that's it. solangelo makes me happy.

will being incredibly supportive of nico, and instead of stopping him, going with him on dangerous adventures because he doesn't want to leave him alone. also them treating Nico's PTSD for what it is

WILL SOLACE CANONICALLY GLOWS IN THE DARK. HE'S A GLOWSTICK BABY.

also will just appearing at the gates of the throne room, glowing in rage because someone touched his boyfriend (and tried to kill his dad), and him just marching through everyone (everyone else letting him), just to pick up his hurt precious boyfriend and take care of him.

meg McCaffrey got her happy ending. she's baby, she deserves her family and her happy ending. also Lu being the mother and the 12 children being siblings?? that's one hell of a way to tell nero to fuck off and right his mistakes. we love meg.

dionysus being the best olympian after apollo. the duo content we needed, and now will never get

nico mentioning bob and how he wants to go look for him, because he can still be in tartarus

rachel still being a Total badass and hitting people in the eye with her blue hairbrush thus being iconic

meg acting as lester's anchor and only reason why he didn't let go of the ledge, not falling into chaos, is top tier 'reasons why I cried reading', because if you think about it, Meg is the first ever friend apollo ever had, and them being best friends is everything to me

also apollo choosing to go looking as lester rather than apollo because lester feels like home is on top tier 'reasons why I cried reading' too

again, the only thing apollo did in the end (once he was god again) that could be described as 'godly' was be in several places at once, fly his chariot, and get meg her unicorn

but apollo shooting fucking fire out of his hands is crazy asf, it was so cool. he really got amazing godly powers this book.

rick being bold enough to showcase abusive parenting knowing that a huge porcentage of his readers are minors, helping many realize that they could be in abusive households, and giving them a tool to reach out for help

apollo defeating nero was so satisfactory, because you realize in the end, that nero wasn't really a monster, he was monstrous, but still very much human (if only with some godly power), and pretty useless once he couldn't hide behind props and weapons, his being wasn't powerful, he was just under layers of protection

the jackson/blofis scene was so warm and loving, they really are willing to put their family in danger, baby estelle in danger, to help 'percy's friends' even tho she knew percy didn't like apollo, but she still takes in everyone who needs help, and paul being a loving and accepting husband

sally working on her SECOND novel, she really is having her best life

none of the big heroes from other series having protagonism, besides nico and will, instead giving the other kids from camp halfblood their chance to show they're just as worthy as the "heroes of olympus"

(still I would have loved to see a scene with everyone else, like the heroes of olympus guys, fighting together one last time, just for nostalgia's sake - I legit hoped to see percy and annabeth arriving with chiron in triumvirate tower, but yeah)

the arrow of dodona may have been a dumb, cringey, and slightly ridiculous thing at first, and I personally rolled my eyes everytime it said anything, but it knew what would happen from the start, and without its sacrifice, apollo would have achieved nothing. we stan one arrow

nico wearing a white cowboy hat. idky but it makes my heart swell with joy. he a gay cowboy

y'all know I love Apollo's arch, and I just gotta point this out. his trials, his time as lester, started with him falling to earth, and ended with him getting up after purposely throwing himself off the earth, towards tartarus, almost falling to chaos. that's really clever writing.

the olympians watching over him, and some actually being concerned for him rather than his progress.

poseidon not really giving a fuck about the world or council meetings anymore because percy's not there anymore

athena being the only one apart from artemis who trusted apollo could do it makes me warm fsr

lester deciding that the best way to retell his adventures is by singing is hilarious to me, he really thinks it'll solve everything

Grover not telling percy and annabeth jason died seems so funny to me, he really said "nah it doesn't matter much, field trip, yes"

"hey man" my heart broke in twenty million pieces. like I don't know where I expected to see jason. but that wasn't it. and it hurt me as much as it hurt apollo man.

(also I kinda hoped we would see nico summon his spirit or smth, but I'm actually happy nico realized that jason went by his own choice, and he was in peace, so he decided not to summon him, because it was alright. that hurt too)

kinda love how lester passes out after literally every battle. it reminds you that even tho he's apollo, his body isn't. I'm sure we all would pass out too if we did a quarter of what lester did in the span of 4 days. his body isn't made to endure that, it doesn't even have a halfblood endurance, it's a weak mortal body

the trogs were fucking hilarious. their screeches and grrs, idk there's something ridiculous and so childish about them, it's so fun

really happy that apollo never had a /real/ love interest (reyna doesn't count), cause that wasn't what his story was about. instead he got to make so many friends, and have quality time with them and his children, it's amazing

apollo being thankful people were telling him he'd grown, and was more human, because he realized that was the best thing he could have learned from his time as a mortal

also him saying fuck you man to zeus and his speech, like "no asshole dad, I did learn, I'm not going to see this as punishment, it was a great time in which bad things happened but I enjoyed it." yes, we love apollo not letting zeus win

getting to see what everyone will do now. nico and will figuring out rachel's prophecy, probs saving bob. rachel living her best life away from her parents. leo doing what leo does, always helping those who have no one else. the hunters' open storyline about this fox, possibly hinting at content? piper settling down in a quiet life is what she deserves tbh, she's earned quiet life with a cute gf, wish her the best. Frank and hazel being the best praetors, and I bet they will continue to be so. And annabeth and percy, who chose their happiness over all, at last

kinda wish we got to see someone still really miss jason after apollo becomes god again tho lmao like apollo missed jason more than the others, nico and piper being the exception. I mean, leo is fine and dandy, hazel and frank are okay, percy and annabeth are done mourning... I just we got to see any of them really mourning, rather than reading they mourned. it would have made it feel more emotional

the last conversation and the last words in general. "the sun always comes back" and "we're friends now. call on me. I'll be there for you" that shit got me sobbing my heart out. rick really managed to do right by the books and end it like he should have, unlike BOO. he took what made TLO good and used a similar formula. it's very different from "and for once I didn't look back", but it still fills you with warmth and the feeling that even though it's over, it's okay.

I'm just really emotional, this is all I can think about, but you bet I'm gonna add more when I remember

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stardustincarnate · 3 years

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CONFESSION // Mello x Reader

word count : 4016 genre : fluff a/n : i haven’t gotten over my writer’s block, so yes -- here i am, once again posting old fics from my wattpad account.

Today is the day.

After contemplating about it for a couple of weeks and confiding it to his best pal, Matt, Mello has finally decided to confess his feelings for you tonight, exploiting the situation where you two will normally go riding on the city streets during Friday midnights such as this one.

To say the least, he isn't the best in this kind of thing— love, that is. Before, all he could think about was one thing which was proving that he's better than Near, and besides, no one really piqued his interest. But then the enigma that you are came.

You can be cunningly evil at times if you want to. You'll often say to the ones you've fooled or to the other mafia members, "It's nothing personal, it's just business." You also have a harsh mouth as he would like to describe. Anything that comes out of it may sound derisive or blatant, but it's basically the truth. You don't sugarcoat things— you don't even try to. Although sometimes you seem to make the truth more cruel than it really is, which makes you look too intimidating for the others. They're only thankful that you don't talk very often and only will if you have something conducive to say.

But that's not all that you are. Mello could feel it, so he grew curious of you. Just a mere speck of curiosity, but then it grew. He wanted to talk to you, but then he asked himself what's the point of doing so, thus he disregarded the idea. That's why you developed a friendship with Matt, who you think is really fun to be with, first. Then as your friendship grew, he thought of introducing you to Mello, and that's when it began. To be frank the beginning of your friendship wasn't easy, and to think that friendship only started growing not until you celebrated a year and a half of being with the mafia.

It was a long process, but in the end, it was worth the wait. Day by day he started lowering the walls he barricaded himself with, and same as you. He became really outgoing and deep down truly caring as your friend, like he is with Matt, because after all you two are the only family he has. And— let's not forget his strange addiction with chocolates! And, well, you like it.

You like him.

Mello knows this as well. He knows that his feelings are reciprocated and he's happy with that. But the question is, who's going to make the first move? Certainly not you. Between fighting the devil and confessing your feelings for someone, you'd probably choose the former. You don't seem like the kind of person who will make the first move. He as well is like that.

And that leads us to his acquiescence of doing it instead. Did he have a choice? Well, maybe, if one considers you doing it instead, but that will definitely take several months, or even years, from now. And he can't wait that long! What if you suddenly start to develop feelings for another person? He can't lose you, you that is just in front of his eyes, one step away from him. He needs to grab the opportunity while it still is there.

Because with you, he feels happy and contented. And for the first time he finally feels like he is number one.

And he really is, in your heart.

"Wooh!"

Matt exclaims after slamming the door, causing Mello to jolt upwards from his reverie. "You know I almost got caught by another mem!"

"Is it done?"

"Of course."

"Hm. You sure this suggestion is for the better? You know how scary that woman can be when she's mad. Especially after finding out that her tires have been flattened."

"Didn't you say you wanted something more romantic tonight? So, I thought of flattening her tires so she can't use her own scooter, that way she can ride with you."

"Uh-uh... Is it romantic though?"

"You two will be close enough. And—no perverted thoughts—she gets to wrap her arms around you while riding. If that's not romantic, I literally don't know what is."

"I'm having qualms about this one."

"What? I'm just as clueless as you are when it comes to romance. I'm doing my best here to help you ya know?"

"I know, I know. Sorry."

"It's your fault you fell in love with her." Matt jests, chuckling. But he immediately behaves himself when he sees that deadly glare of his friend. "Hey! I was only kidding! Don't look at me like that, Mels. You're creeping me out."

"Hah. But I guess you're right. My fault. And great— now I'm having more doubts than before and feeling.. tentative."

"The almighty Mello is nervous? Wow. I never thought I'd live to see this day!"

"Say one more word and I'll make sure it's the last you'll ever emit."

"HE-HE-HEY! Now you're just being belligerent. Don't worry. I'm sure you two will come back here as a couple. Swear it on my life. So stop doubting yourself. And just.. don't act awkward and dorky when confessing towards your little devil."

"Just how am I supposed to do that?"

"I don't know. Just don't."

Mello heaves a sigh. "Sometimes I do wonder if you're really the smart Matt they used to talk about back in the orphanage."

Matt only grins. He's about to reply, but then they both hear footsteps—angry footsteps—coming closer.

"Oh, speaking of the devil. Here she comes. In three.. two.. one.."

With that, you kick the door open and look around. You look like you're about to whip someone's ass and the men can almost laugh at your reaction knowing the reason behind it. You give them a steely look when they unknowingly start to curve their lips to a grin. They quickly change their reaction.

"This has gotta be one of the worse days of my life!" You exclaim as you slump on the sofa beside Mello. "I can't go with you. I've got a flat tire, and I have no idea why. Someone must've done it.."

"Who would do such a terrible thing? Especially to you, the devil no one else even bothers to approach?" Mello momentarily glances at Matt before taking a bite of his chocolate, which you then steals from his grip. "But don't worry, I gotcha. You can ride me... with me I mean! You can ride with me, NOT RIDE ME—good Lord I'm sorry."

'Aha, and there goes Matt's reminder that I shouldn't act awkward.' He looks away with a blush.

"I think [Y/N] is okay with either of that—"

You raise an eyebrow at Matt. "Oh, you mean you Mathematics. You can ride him all you want so don't be shy and put my name in your shoes."

"That's not—!"

"—ANYWAYS, Willy Wonka, you sure you okay with me riding with you? You won't mind?"

"Jesus, stop calling me that! And yes. You're my friend so I won't mind."

"Thanks mate!" To his surprise, you hug him from the side. And you are hugging him a little too much. "You know I've always wanted to ride your motor. It looks cooler than mine."

"Ah.. well— you're squeezing me a bit too much.. don't you think?"

You pull away and snicker. "Sorry. You're like a marshmallow that I just want to squeeze sometimes."

"EHEM. Pardon me, will you? I need to go to the restroom."

Matt stands up, thinking that his job here as cupid is done—or not quite yet. He has one last plan in mind. And even he isn't sure that that plan is going to make things better or worse.

"Enjoy taking another dump!" You shout as he leaves the room, making sure to lock it. Now you and Mello are completely alone, facing one another in utter silence. And it's too silent that you can hear some of the other mafia members arguing in a distant room. You can even hear someone moaning. Mello can hear it too.

You both give each other a look that only you two can understand.

"Oof. Must be nice. Err, so anyways," you start. "The usual place tonight?" And by that you mean stopping by to go atop a dilapidated building in a forsaken road to stargaze with him for ten minutes. You two make sure to always include going there to find tranquility in the stars and with each other. It temporarily removes all the problems and worries you have.

With Mello ruefully shaking his head, you frown. He puts an arm over your shoulder and nods reassuringly instead. You hide a smile.

"We can do that next week or earlier if we're not too preoccupied so don't be so glum. I'll be taking you somewhere new. I'm sure you'll like it."

"I hope so. Otherwise I'm gonna kick your ass."

"You'll be the one getting your ass kicked it if you don't give me back my chocolate right now."

"But I need chocolate too! Chocolate makes you happy. So I need it, 'kay?!"

"As far as I know that chocolate is mine and not yours???"

"But I'm your friend aren't I? You still have a lot of stock in there I'm sure."

"I'm running out of chocolates so give it back you little demon."

He hastily maneuvers before you can even stand up and try running away. He seizes your wrists and places your arms behind your back to prevent you from moving. Since you two are facing each other instead of him being behind you, the position is rather awkward. The proximity of your faces makes both of you blush and in an instance he backs away. You cackle in triumph as to his dismay of not getting his chocolate back.

You look at your wristwatch before taking a bite of the sweet. "Well Marsh-Mello, what are we waiting for? Let's hit the road! I'm already bored." You hold his hand the moment he stands up and you two run outside.

Mello throws the helmet to you which almost hit your face, earning an irked look from you. He then starts the engine as you wear your helmet.

When he starts to move just before you can take a seat, you panic. Of course he only wants to toy with you. He stops at a corner and waits for you, who's running and ready to smash his face. You pant as you finally reach him.

"You little bastard! Why'd you have to make me suffer?"

"Why shouldn't I?"

"You groan and then sit behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist. The closeness of your bodies make you both blush. He makes sure you're all set before once again driving in a high speed that made you hug him tighter. You've always known that he drives this fast, but to experience it yourself? It feels like your skin is being blown away and seperated from your bones.

"W-Would you mind slowing down, just a bit?"

"Come on [Y/N], that's not fun."

"So you call this fun? You're gonna kill us both. I'm too beautiful to die right now!"

"Tsk. You're no fun." You're about to make a rebuttal but he slows down reluctantly and matches the speed you will normally drive at. You sigh in relief and absently rests your chin on his right shoulder, looking at the stores, buildings, and a few people walking on the sidewalk which you are hastily passing by. On your left you see numbered vehicles and a few more buildings.

You're enjoying the ride, however, you hear the tire from behind pop. That is already bad, and worse comes when the front one pops too. He goes to the side before halting.

"Shit! Just our luck!"

"Haha seems like you and I share the same fate, huh? Goals."

Mello sighs as a realization dawns him.

'Matt.. you little shit.'

"Whadda we do now?" You worriedly ask.

"We're still halfway to the place I'm taking you and this happens.. I suppose I can just park this somewhere. You wouldn't mind walking, would you?"

"Sounds fine with me then."

He nods and parks the motor beside a bicycle and a car in front of a store, placing a tracker in it just in case it gets stolen. But if it ever does, he can just get another one. Legally or not. Doesn't matter.

In silence, you and Mello start walking side by side. Arriving upon a city bridge you can't help but stare at the river. The limit to what you can see on its side is a lively city despite the hour, with skyscrapers and billboard signs lit up. You can hear the occasional, distant sounds of car engines.

You avert your gaze back in the front, meeting chatty people on your way who are walking opposite to you and Mello. You realize that they're mostly couples who are matching clothes and openly talking, not caring if they're to be heard by others. Mello also notices, and not only that but the way you two undeniably look like one. Without any intentions, your clothes match. Not that it's a big deal since everyday you two wear black, but because of your surroundings, he might as well seize the opportunity.

Beaming from ear to ear, he holds your hand and intertwines your fingers together. You're confused, but at the same time liking it, a blush creeping on your face.

"Don't mind if I do. We don't wanna look like a couple who can't bear with each other after some kind of quarrel, do we?"

"But we're not a couple."

"No, not yet."

You stop and raise an eyebrow.

"Oop. Did I say that out loud? My bad."

He cheekily grins. It's only a joke, you think, but at the same time you wish that he's not joking—which he really isn't.

"Hey, how long are we going to walk?"

"Why? Are your feet giving up already? Want a piggyback?"

You completely turn red. He smiles at that.

"Nah.. I—"

"Don't waste the opportunity. I might change my mind later."

"I don't care. This is enough."

You squeeze his hand tightly—too tight that he swears he feel his phalanges breaking—but unexpectedly, he just moans. And people look at the two of you.

"The fuck was that?!? I didn't know you were some kind of masochist!"

"DID YOU REALLY HAVE TO SAY IT OUT LOUD?"

"AHA so you do admit being a masochist!!"

"WHAT? NO! I'M NOT!"

"Why so defensive now?"

"Because people are hearing you???"

"Let them! HAHAHAHA! MY BOYFRIEND IS A MASOCHIST! ISN'T THAT CUTE??"

But after realizing what you just said, you stop and gnaw your lower lip.

"Oh earth swallow me right now.. Sorry! God I'm embarrassed. You're not my boyfriend—"

"Didn't I tell you? Not yet."

You punch his shoulder playfully. "Stop joking around! I might actually believe you ya know?"

"Who said I was joking?"

"..Of course you are—"

"—OH, here we are!"

He diverts the topic, leaving you to slightly pout to yourself as he turns left to an unoccupied and dark area, pulling you to the railing where you two halt and see the perfect angle to view the city and the river from. The water and its light ripples glimmer under the moonlight as the brisk wind hits your skin, making you slightly shiver. Mello notices this and takes off his jacket, insisting you should wear it instead. You don't argue.

"Mello, this is.. magnificent. And a nice spot to stargaze as well! It's pretty wherever I lay my eyes on."

"Except behind us, maybe. You don't like trees that much."

You cackle. "They give me the creeps, especially during night. But at least we don't have to face that way, do we?"

He shakes his head as he laughs, inclining himself closer to you. He places his hands just beside yours on the railing, looking up and then looking at you, who's still busy admiring the sky.

He can't help but smile admiring you in your adorable placidity.

"The stars are pretty tonight." You say as you notice him looking at you in your peripheral vision.

"You always say that. They're always pretty. Sparkly."

"Mesmerizing to look at." You add. He nods, still staring at you.

"That's why I love the stars.."

"Uh huh. And chocolate." You grin.

"And you."

You stand flabbergasted, daring not to look at him directly. Your heart feels like it's about to jolt out of your chest. Your fingers begin to tremble on their own as you feel something intangible whirling inside your stomach. You know what it is—and he's making your heart flutter. But you can't trust this feeling as you aren't even sure if he's joking or not. And if he is, you kinda hate it. You want it to be real.

"Aye, don't flirt with me. That's so not you." You snap, rolling your eyes.

It doesn't take him too long to perceive what's on your mind. He taps your shoulder before sitting on the railing, inviting you to join him. You're a little hesitant for the fear of falling to the water. And when it comes to this kind of thing, you don't trust Mello. You're sure he'll eventually push you. The number of times he had done this to you in some places before is something you can't even count anymore.

"C'mon [Y/N]. Don't be scared. I won't push you. Or if I do, you're free to drag me as well."

"Tch. So you do intend to push me." Nevertheless, you sit beside him and grip the bars tightly with your clammy palms. Luckily the concrete extends six inches after the railing.

Mello feels like you two aren't physically close enough, and he thinks it's not 'romantic' enough, so he slides even closer to you until his palm is already above your hand and your shoulders bump.

"Oh, no. You keep your distance, Mr. Wonka."

"It's not like we're having social distancing here you know?"

"You're too close."

"And I'm going to get even closer.."

He whispers, his hot breath tickling the side of your neck. You sigh and face him, and your noses bump. You urgently back away and you almost slip if not for him.

"What's gotten into your system for you to act so flirty all of a sudden?"

"You."

"MELLO!! I'm damn serious. Like, all the jests can wait but for now, just.. don't flirt with me. I'm in no mood."

"Aww, trying to shoo me away huh? After stealing my heart and my chocolates, here you are suddenly breaking my poor, poor heart."

"One more attempt and I'm going to drown you."

"Heeeeeeey. Don't be so vicious now." He softly bumps your shoulder with his. You only click your tongue in annoyance.

"Seriously. Stop messing with me. I hate you."

"No you don't. I'm not messing with you. I'm serious—"

"Tch. Serious my ass."

"..You don't have one—"

"See? You little fucktard. You keep on messing with me. So just stop flirting with me. I swear I'll kill you if you continue."

"Whaaat? Seriously, I'm not messing with you. You gotta—"

"Mels, no, no, no. You can poke fun of me, push me off right now or anything but just don't flirt with me. You're a bastard for torturing my feelings. That's not cool at all. Damn it," you spat. He keep his silence, his mouth starting to gape.

"Don't make me assume things because I really, really, really like you!"

The words pour out unbidden. Your voice resonates and immediately you shut up and look down with a furious blush.

'That's it, congratulations for possibly ruining your friendship.' You think as you bite your lower lip.

Your blush vanishes as the fluttering feeling in your chest does, being replaced with instant regret, as if your heart has dropped to your stomach.

The look of surprise in his face turns to a cheeky grin. With much glee, he chuckles.

"I've always known this devil is a pure softie inside..."

"M-Mello.."

You are about to tear up, but then he says, "Do you know what you just did? You ruined my plans, [Y/N]! But I suppose I can forgive you for that."

"What?? Plan?? Damn you, damn you, damn you! I knew you were up to no good! Damn it, Mello! Pretend this night never existed. I'm outta here—"

"No no, it's not what you think. 'I like you' was supposed to be my line, not yours!" He can't help but burst out laughing, leaving you momentarily dazed, but then when you realize what he possibly meant by that, it's as if your heart has come back to life. Your face turns red.

"I was going to confess to you tonight, but it looks like the tables had turned. You are a.. partypooper! Do you know how many times I've practice saying that in front of Matt, just to end up with you saying it instead of me? Unbelievable!"

He wheezes, catches his breath, then looks at you. "And look, I'm not complaining, alright? Haha.. but the way things turn out to be in the end is just so.. whimsical. But I'm gonna say it anyway: I like you. I like you a lot."

You scrutinize his facial expression just to be sure that he's serious, and you confirm he truly is. He's absently smiling, and just from staring at you is the reason. Rapture dances in his eyes. He looks genuinely happy and candid at the moment. And here you are left speechless, only staring at him as a sheepish smile slowly invades your face.

You almost lose your grip on the railing when he briefly kisses your cheek. And again, nothing comes out of your mouth.

"Do I also need to say that I wanna be your boyfriend? Because, isn't it obvious?"

"Mello..."

"No pressure, [Y/N]. If we both like each other but you're not yet ready for a relationship, I understand and I can wait."

"Well.." You hide your face on his shoulder because you feel like the longer you stare at him, the more probable it is that you'll faint. "Uhm.. Err... Have you ever been.. in a relationship?"

"No, not really. You will be my first one. If you accept."

You smile. "Well, same as you here."

"Really? I thought you already had a partner or two before."

"I had no time to be in love. Add that some of the people I was acquainted with sucked, and the kind ones.. well, let's just say that they seemed to be missing something.. something that, I suppose, only you have. And.. it will really make me happy if you are to be my first," you lift your head up to meet his eyes. "So I accept."

"You serious?? Right here?? Right now??"

"Need I repeat myself, partner-in-crime?"

"Haha! Course not!"

You peck his cheek as your warm smile broadens. You then rest your head on his shoulder, your eyes never leaving the distant city as he wraps an arm around your waist, meticulous so that you two wouldn't slip from the railing and fall down.

"I think it's safe to assume now that you're the one behind flattening my tires. And just so I can ride with you. You're a cunning man, so I suppose you also did something with your own scooter just so we could walk together, like couples in movies. Haha I never thought you'd think something like that!"

"It was Matt's idea. Swear. He thought it was more romantic that way. And he's probably the one who rigged my scooter. He really can be a huge pain in the ass sometimes."

"Like you are."

"Aw come on. Take that back you little demon!"

"Noooopeeeee! Pfahahaha— AAAA SHIT!"

And with that, you both plunge into the frigid water with a loud splash.

#death note #death note x reader #death note x you #death note imagine #mello x reader #Mello Death Note #death note mello #mihael keehl #death note fluff #anime x reader #character x you #death note x y/n #matt death note #death note oneshot

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