✁pairing: ex-husband/mafia!sunwoo x fem!reader x first love/assassin!san
✁genre: mafia/rich people au, hints of fluff and angst, quite suggestive warnings: mentions of mafia activity and death
✁wc: 7.6k
✁ plot: life couldn’t get any better as you try to find all excuses to leave your husband, kim sunwoo. you were perceived as the lucky woman, the lady that had it all because her husband was rich and powerful in the business industry. however you and another person both know that, that isn’t true, and you were willing to do anything to make sure he gets exposed for it.
✁ a/n: so i have been working on this for a while, and i thought that it would beautiful enough to be the birthday gift to my soulmate, @viastro!!to my lovie who i have always sent my love and support and gray hairs, happy big 20 to you!! here’s to our birthday week, thank you for being born three days before me so that i wouldn’t be bored in this lonely and cruel world <33
a/n: my take on the future reconciliation between tianshan following the latest update (ch. 371, maybe?). I hope you enjoy! <3
tags: angst, hurt/comfort, non-sexual aftercare, making up, guilt and affirmation, getting together, first kiss, neck kisses, sharing a bed, cuddling, fluff, mutual hatred for she li, a few tears are indeed shed, the fish/earrings are in here too!
tianshan, rated T, ~4100 words
***
He Tian takes him home — to his place. Guan Shan, wordlessly, follows.
It’s just that simple, and decided rather quickly. It’s not like Guan Shan can go back to his own apartment and face his mother in this state. Plus they’re both exhausted in their own ways; hurt, badly, in their own ways, too. It’s an odd, new thing for Guan Shan to allow He Tian to approach in silence — to take the fish bag and bloodied jacket from him with no eye contact — because he’s never had someone he could talk to without using any words at all. After all, fear and anger are easy emotions to recognise, to transmit. People flaunt them in the open for everyone to see like red flags in the wind.
But regret? Guilt? Yearning? A different story. Everyone holds them tight to their chest until they’re backed in a corner and forced to relinquish them. The consequences of delicate passion are things no one wants to bear. And so Guan Shan wonders what the hollowness in his own chest as He Tian holds the apartment door open for him, Guan Shan walking inside with an arm wrapped around his bruised abdomen, He Tian following in silence, might mean.
He Tian’s place is cold tonight, more so than usual. Guan Shan has become used to the goosebumps that prick his forearms when he cooks in the kitchen or sits on the couch, but he never had the intention to complain about it because it isn’t his home, nor his money. Still, he’d caught He Tian, once, fiddling with the thermostat when Guan Shan had shrugged on his uniform jacket absentmindedly. It was perhaps one of the most self-conscious things Guan Shan has ever seen him do.
But tonight, He Tian shows no such reserved kindness. Guan Shan sits himself on a kitchen chair with a wince, earrings placed on the table, and listens to the front door slam shut, house keys dropped to the floor, heavy footsteps as He Tian flicks lights in the kitchen, sets down the fish and jacket, and starts rummaging for supplies. Swallowing, Guan Shan looks at the shoes still on He Tian’s feet.
“You’ll get the floor dirty,” he mutters. His throat is sore from coughing up river water and yelling profanities, and his voice reflects it off the bare walls.
He Tian doesn’t respond; still doesn’t look at him, either, as he travels back and forth between the bedroom, guest bathroom and kitchen before setting down what he finds on the dining table beside Guan Shan: towelettes, bandages, cotton balls, antibacterial cream, a bowl of water. He dips his chin towards it all. His face is a statue’s, cold and stone.
“Shower,” He Tian tells him, voice low. “There’re clean clothes on the bathroom counter. And then come out and clean up the worst injuries. We’ll decide if we need to call a doctor afterwards.”
“I don’t— I won’t need a doctor,” Guan Shan says, looking up at him. “Nothing’s broken, just bruised. It’s… superficial.”
He Tian opens his mouth as if to reply — to argue — but seems to decide against it. “Shower,” he says again instead and steps to the side to let Guan Shan get up and follow through. But Guan Shan doesn’t move. They look at each other.
“You haven’t taken off your shoes,” says Guan Shan.
He Tian doesn’t look down to confirm. “I haven’t.”
(WARNING): Spoilers for Seven’s route, implied nsfw. Read at your own risk.
Part 1
Word count: 2.4k
(She/her) pronouns.
……………..
For years he has hopelessly longed for her. There was never a second that he thought she was anything other than ethereal beauty. Like a graceful and refined goddess, she blesses his vision. Though Jumin Han is not one to express his feelings or be interested in art for that matter, somehow, she makes seeing both so much clearer.
He can recall the day she entered the RFA chat room, the way she presented herself. He is still amazed with how daring and bold she was. Everyone loves her for it. At the party, she wore a beautiful red dress that flattered her every curve and did wonders for his wandering mind. But it was not her body that truly earned his attention, rather, her charisma; the way she adapted and took advantage of every opportunity. They got along surprisingly well and even scheduled dinners to enjoy together so they could keep in touch. But she was never too close. He knows he is a busy man; he has no time to indulge in romantic affairs. Even with that aside, from his knowledge she does not share the same feelings.
A gift fic for @ikehoe as part of @ikemenlibrary’s Ikevamp Gift Exchange - thank you Bryn, for putting this together for us!
Rating:G Theodorus van Gogh x Female Reader Additional tags/warnings: mutual pining, light angst, fluff, 1600+ word count
AN: I hope you enjoy, Chonk! :)
“And for the Van Gogh brothers,” you start cheerfully, proud of the way you’ve balanced the two hot plates on your arms, “tall stacks, heavy on the syrup for Theo.” You set one plate of pancakes in front of each brother.
Theo opens his mouth to say something to you. Before he can, you grab a silver dish from the rolling tray behind him and set it next to his plate. “Extra syrup,” you say, a little smugly.
He closes his mouth.
“Oh, you’ve gotten really good at this,” Vincent remarks, his cornflower blue eyes lit up with delight. “It’s almost like you can read his mind.”
His words hit you somewhere near your ribs, triggering that all-to-familiar ache in your chest. It always starts the same way, and if someone were to ask you to describe the feeling, you would tell them it feels a little like heartburn: a flicker that begins beneath your skin and works its way into a full-blown inferno in no time at all. If only it were true that I could read his mind, you think to yourself ruefully. If that were true— You cut the thought off before it can go any further. “Well,” you start, flashing them a smile that never falters even though you can feel the corners of your mouth trembling with the effort to hold it. “It isn’t hard to do. Theo’s breakfast preferences are very predictable.”
You will never get used to the way you feel when Theo looks at you… and you will never stop wishing that one day you will see love or affection in that gaze. You’ve dreamt about it, longed for it, hoped against all odds that he might one day look at you with feelings that mirror the ones in your heart.
Summary: Joe asks (Y/n) for a favour that could get her into trouble with her husband Ben and she really doesn’t want to get on his bad side.
Enjoy.
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“Joe… I’m really not allowed to do that.” (Y/n) could already feel the shaking setting into her bones from the mere thought of what he was asking her to do. She hoped he would understand and walk away but he followed her down the corridor that was as cold as a freezer. (Y/n) could feel the chill in the air nipping at her skin causing goosebumps to arise on her flesh. Her head turned to look at her friend who was walking alongside her, his expression just as desperate as her own. He knew what he was asking but he wouldn’t even be asking if he wasn’t in trouble.
“I know, I know but if he finds out I didn’t put all the cash back in there he’ll kill me. (Y/n), please.”
A shudder ran down both their spines when they both knew that Joe’s ill-fated remark was not an exaggeration. Joe would be hurt and fired for this, if not killed in the end as well and he valued his life and his job here. He needed (Y/n) to help him out before Ben went upstairs and realised what Joe had done out of desperation.
a/n: remember to reblog and let us know what you think. read at your own risk. thanks for reading. goodnight.
You let out an angry huff as you close the front door behind you, nearly kicking your shoes off into the wall. Anger and annoyance simmer beneath the surface from work, and all you want to do is scream in frustration.
“Baby? Is that you?” a male voice calls from further in the apartment.
You run a hand through your hair as you sigh, trudging out to the living room. “Yeah, it’s just me,” you reply, before stopping short in surprise.
On the couch you find your boyfriend, Joshua, and your friend, Vernon, right next to him. A quiet whine slips past your lips when you remember Vernon was coming over today. You really aren’t in the mood for company tonight. “Damnit,” you mutter under your breath.
Joshua’s eyebrows shoot up at your whine, watching as you pinch the bridge of your nose. “Everything okay?” he asks as he stands and crosses to you.
Another sigh leaves you as you nod and lean into his arms. “Yeah. Just a bad day. Sorry. I’m just not in the mood for company,” you tell him, shooting Vernon a tired smile.
Vernon shakes his head and immediately stands, looking apologetic himself. “No, it’s okay. I can come back another time.”
Joshua rubs your back lightly as he holds you, but shakes his head at the pair of you. “Sit down. Both of you,” he instructs, pushing you gently towards the couch.
“Joshua. Please. I’ll just go to the bedroom. You two can hang out out here,” you protest as Vernon slowly sinks back down into the cushions.
Joshua turns his body to face yours, reaching up to grip your chin with his thumb and forefinger. “Bedroom?” he asks simply.
here we are!! the “carlos gets hurt on the way to the wedding and tk thinks he’s been stood up” fic inspired by rafa <3 bthb: doesn’t know they’re injured title: julien baker - brittle boned word count:6.8k AO3
Fifteen minutes.
That’s what TK discovered when he snuck a glimpse of his watch beneath his suit jacket. Carlos had told him that it would be ugly to wear a watch to the wedding and he should just omit it, at least for the ceremony, but TK insisted that he couldn’t take it off for a day. Too used to tragedy striking whenever he got too comfortable, he needed to know that he could take a set of vitals at a moment’s notice.
Tragedy seemed to follow TK like an ominous black cloud that only he could see. Why did he think that today would be any different?
His life filled with torment and disaster would not let up when they exchanged rings, and not a second before.
