#? do you remember that she only does the dishes when she's going out with a boy? do you remember the 3 months where i took it upon myself t

[nickfowlerrr]

something good and true - part 1

pairing: mob boss!bucky barnes x reader

warnings (for all parts in whole): 18+ only. domestic violence. retelling of abuse and battery. minor character death mentioned. angst. sweet and protective bucky. fluff. not sure if this qualifies as a slow burn or not 👀 smut. there’s a happy ending! (as per usual)

words: 4.5k

notes: this fic was supposed to be posted last year for suz’s blind date writing challenge but clearly that is not what happened. a year later and some thousands+ words over the maximum allowed (in total), i was finally able to wrap this thing up. i’m posting in parts bc it’s just so long and ahhh i’m sorry i didn’t follow your rules suz @targaryenvampireslayer 😭 and honest to god there is absolutely no expectation for you to read or even acknowledge this! i just want to give credit where credit is due and so this, my first mob boss!fic, is all thanks to the mob boss au prompt you had given to me! so thank you - and sorry again 🫢 dialogue used: “Does it make you nervous when I stare?”. thank you in advance for reading, i’d be happy to hear your thoughts! as always, comments and reblogs are welcome and so appreciated. 🩵

He’s staring again. You can feel it. The heat creeps up your spine as your heart begins to beat a little faster. The feeling has become quite familiar. It’s been two months of this. You had a feeling he’d be back, but really you hoped he’d have just let it go by now. It’s not like you thought any of this through, though… Of course there’d be consequences; and none worse, you’re sure, than the ones he could dish out.

It’s not your fault, you try to remind yourself. It’s not. You finish wiping off the table of the newly vacated booth, tucking the cash tip left for you in your pocket, before you turn around.

You steel yourself, taking a strong breath before you start to walk toward his private booth. You’re not stupid, you know the only reason he comes here is for you, he told you as much himself. And everyone else knows that too as the place has become nearly empty since his arrival. Even your coworkers aren’t bustling about. You don’t know if you prefer having the audience or not. You don’t blame anyone for their fleeing, though. After all the stories you’d heard about the man, you always made yourself scarce in his presence, too.

Until the faithful night he requested you at his table by name… You sigh, it seems you no longer have the luxury of avoidance.

You remember that night well. The first time you formally met the infamous mob boss, James ‘Bucky’ Barnes.

You remember how it felt like your blood turned to ice in your very veins when Molly uttered your name with worried eyes, “Mr. Barnes is asking for you specifically,” she had whispered as she peaked into the kitchen where you’d fled when you heard he was being sat at his rarely used, always reserved table.

You felt sick. Like a lead weight was dropped in your stomach. You wrung your hands until it hurt before you finally nodded. You were sure she could see the fear in your eyes when you looked at her. “O-okay. I’ll be right there,” you’d nodded. You had to swallow down the bile threatening to creep up your throat. He knows, you’d thought. He has to know. That’s why he’s here. That’s why he’s looking for you. You were breathing hard and heavy and you could feel the tears welling in your still sensitive eyes. You were caked in makeup, had been all week, to hide the bruises that marred all over your face. It wasn’t anything unusual. But there was an eerie comfort you felt in knowing once they were finally gone this time, you wouldn’t have to see yourself like that again.

You were in a long sleeve so you knew he wouldn’t be able to see the marks along your arms, and unless he had X-ray vision he wouldn’t be able to see the contusions littered all over your body either. You had a brace on your wrist but it wasn’t too noticeable under the sleeve… Okay, you breathed. You can do this. Deny, deny, deny. You don’t even truly know what he’s here for. You shouldn’t freak yourself out before you’ve even seen him.

You exhaled a shaky breath before you reached for the kitchen door.

It was dead silent as you entered the dining hall and it only added to the compounding fear and anxiety growing inside you.

You approached his table cautiously, too nervous to make direct eye contact as you held your pen and pad in hand.

“Good evening, sir, - uhm, Mr. Barnes,” you corrected yourself, “can I get you started with something to-“

“I’m not here for drinks or the mediocre food, doll,” he stopped you easily, unnervingly calm.

You chanced a glance at him and his deep blue gaze had you swallowing hard.

You didn’t know how to respond, so you stayed quiet as he stared at you. Like he knew something. Like he knew you knew something.

“Hm,” he considered you for a moment longer before nodding, “ya know, I think you know why I’m here.”

“I-“, you shook your head almost imperceptibly, “I don’t,” was all you could muster as your eyes were now glued to him. You couldn’t will yourself to look away. You were too terrified.

He licked his lip seemingly out of habit before he spoke again.

“Where’s your boyfriend?” He asked, sounding exasperated, bored of the interaction already as he tilted his head at you.

You stiffened at the question, your heart threatening to beat out of your chest.

“I don’t-“

“You do.” He stopped you again, the certainty in his voice leaving no room to deny his accusation. His eyes cutting into you as you stood before him, defenseless. You felt like you couldn’t breathe but you couldn’t just stand there looking terrified. You had to work up your voice and it came out quiet, but Bucky was listening, and watching you, intently.

“I don’t know where Freddy is,” you said, voice low, trying to keep the tremor from it as you finally felt your eyes sting, the fear and pain catching up to you as you blinked the would be tears away before a single one fell. “And he’s not my boyfriend,” you swallowed, “anymore.”

“No?”

“No. We broke up…about a month ago.”

“That’s interesting…” he hummed. “Why did someone see his car at your place the other week, then, huh?”

You winced at the images that ran through your mind as you thought back to that day, the one you knew he was referring to.

“He came over, to talk,” you forced out, no longer looking at the man before you. “But nothing came from it,” you added quickly, “and he left. I haven’t seen him since. Haven’t heard from him, I don’t know where he is.”

You didn’t look at him but by the weight of his gaze you knew he wasn’t buying what you were selling.

“What happened here?” he asked, reaching for your hand.

You were quite literally frozen to your spot as he grabbed your hand in his. His touch was the most gentle you’d experienced in a long while and it sent an unexpected hum through you. You watched your hand in his as he pulled you just the tiniest bit closer to him and the table. He inched up your sleeve to see more of the brace on your wrist and when he moved to raise your sleeve further up your arm, your body finally moved into action. You yanked your hand back, as if his touch had burned you, keeping him from seeing anything more than the brace.

“Fell,” you answered shortly. “I’m sorry, Mr. Barnes, but I don’t know what else to tell you. I don’t know where he is. And to be perfectly honest, I don’t really care.”

You met his eye once more, feeling a little safer as the words came easily. It wasn’t a complete lie. You really didn’t know where he was. And you certainly didn’t care. Despite the scrutiny of the mob boss’ gaze, you didn’t feel nearly as scared as you had before he touched your hand. Something about the softness there… You wouldn’t dwell on it.

“If there’s nothing else,” you added, though it was definitely more of an unspoken question than anything. You weren’t as scared but you weren’t stupid either. You wouldn’t be going anywhere until he dismissed you.

He smirked, huffing a laugh as he watched you.

“You hear from him, I’d be grateful to know,” he slipped his hand into his coat pocket and took out a business card, placing it on the table as he flicked his sharp eyes up to you once more, moving to pull out his wallet next. You watched as he slipped out two bills and blanched as he put them down on the table, moving the card so it sat on the money.

Your breath caught in your throat as he stood from his seat, standing right in front of you as you took in his build and stature. Everything about him screamed success, power, and authority and the two hundreds he left on the table were nothing more than chump change to him, you were sure.

“Just so you know, doll,” he spoke lowly, “I will find him, one way or another,” he took a step closer to you, “and if you think you’re protecting him by not telling me the truth, I promise you’re not.” He held your gaze and you were terrified he could see straight into your soul with how intent it was, “What’s even worse, is he knows we know all about you. He doesn’t care if he’s putting you in harm’s way or not… Forgive me for saying, but nice girl like you, you deserve a hell of a lot better than that. So, if you think of anything you might wanna tell me, my number’s right there,” he said looking back over to the card and money on the table. “That’s your tip. You enjoy your night, sweetheart. I’ll be seeing you.”

His words weren’t a threat, but a promise.

He would be seeing you. Didn’t always call you to his table, sometimes just observed you while you worked, but every week without fail from that day on, he would be at the restaurant.

You never called him, you didn’t have anything to say. You wouldn’t tell him the truth, no, you couldn’t tell him the truth. He was half right, you were protecting someone. But it wasn’t Freddy.

You breathe another strong sigh as you get closer to him and once you’re at the table, you don’t say a word, only meeting his brilliant and pointed gaze.

There’s something different about him tonight, something unnerving in his stare that you take notice of right away. You work to keep your calm but you’re not sure how convincing your faux headstrong demeanor is tonight.

He lets the silence between you grow for a moment longer before finally, he speaks.

“Does it make you nervous when I stare?”

His voice is like honey, smooth and rich with that familiar lilt as his lips quirk up just at the corner of his mouth. It warms you while he holds your eye. There’s unspoken tension between you two as you stand so close yet so far, it’s been brewing since your first meeting and has only grown with each interaction since. You’ve never named it, but you couldn’t deny it if you’d wanted to. You haven’t felt your tummy flutter like this since…you can’t remember when.

Surely he knows what his gaze does to anyone, you’re no exception. But the nerves you feel under the weight of his stare are twofold - not all due to fear, but to flustering.

You haven’t responded, but you’ve held his eye in the silence. He smirks at you before gesturing to the open space across from him.

“Why don’t you take a seat, sweetheart.”

It sounds like an invitation, but you know it’s more than that.

It’s an instruction.

You look around briefly, as if someone might stop you or get you in trouble - but that’s laughable when you’re standing next to, arguably, the most feared and respected man this city has ever seen. Standing. Why is he standing? You realize suddenly he’s still waiting for you to move.

You do as he said and gingerly sit down across from him. He retakes his own seat as you settle. How chivalrous.

“I’ll get right to it,” he starts, his deep blue eyes never leaving you, “Freddy-“

God, that name. You can’t hold your tongue. You know it’s why he’s here but you don’t want to talk about this. You just want this to be over!

“Like I told you the last time, and the time before, and the time before, and every other time you’ve asked, I haven’t seen him.” You cut him off without thinking. But you really can’t have the same conversation again. You can’t keep having to think about him. About that night. You're at your wits end - you don’t want to have to so much as hear his name again. You don’t catch yourself in the moment but it hits you when you’re done talking that you just spoke to Bucky in such a familiar way…someone walking past might wonder who exactly you are to him. Clearly you’ve forgotten your place, gotten a little too comfortable around him.

You look up from where you watch yourself wring your hand and shamefully meet his eye again. You inhale and start to apologize but he doesn’t give you the chance.

His hand is on yours before you realize he’s even moving and you flinch a second late, his gentle touch already on you, stilling your nervous habit.

His eyes soften as he makes you meet his gaze, his thumb gently rubbing your fidgety hand.

You swallow hard and watch as he blinks away the previous softness in his gaze, his familiar confident twinkle back as he speaks,

“I know,” he nods, his hand still on yours. He’s closer as he leans across the table. “I found him.”

Your breath catches and your face falls. Fuck fuck fuck.

What does that mean? What does he know? You’re on the verge of having a complete freak out and god he can probably see it written all over your face. You feel a squeeze of your hand and are brought back into your body, into this very moment.

“Don’t look so sick, sweetheart,” he says, a half smile on his lips. “You don’t have anything to worry about, you or your old man.”

Your heart drops at the mention of your father and Bucky must see it because he leans closer still, now holding your hand in his. It’s strangely comforting, but more so is the look in his eyes. The sincerity there, and the hard edge of protection.

You want to believe him but you’ve been gullible before.

“I just wanna know the whole story. I know pretty much what went down, some things I think can safely be assumed, but I wanna hear your narrative, just to get the full picture and get this whole mess squared away, yeah?”

The way he’s looking deeply into your shining eyes, the intimate gaze and soft touch as it seems like he’s trying to keep you calm, you can’t speak much but you give him a quiet, “yeah.”

He nods and you feel a single tear slip down your cheek. He slowly raises his hand, and your eyes are glued to him as he makes sure you watch his movements. Like he’s trying to reach out to a scared little puppy, he reaches to gently touch your cheek. You don’t flinch but as his hand makes contact with your skin, your eyes shut as you try and suppress a shudder.

“No tears, sweetheart,” he tells you in a soothing timbre as he wipes it from your cheek. “You’re too pretty to cry over a loser like that,” he adds with a soft smile.

You shake your head, “He’s not why I’m-“

“I know,” he cuts you off. “Look at me,” he orders gently.

You do as he says and slowly meet his eye. “You don’t have anything to worry about, ya hear me? Not the police, not my men, and certainly not me. Got it?”

You know you’re staring at him like he’s crazy, but you do understand what he’s saying. It takes you a second but you force yourself to nod.

“Good.”

His touch is still on you as his eyes trail all over your face before he lets his hand slip away.

“Alright, you wanna do this tonight or tomorrow night?”

You’re momentarily stunned. You definitely don’t want to do this tonight. You just need to get through the last two hours here and then you’re headed home to unravel in your own space. But tomorrow…

“Tomorrow’s Valentine’s Day,” you point out, sounding unsure.

“What,” he sniffs, looking at you once again, “you got plans?”

“I, I have work,” you answer dumbly after a second.

“Not anymore you don’t,” he says, moving to stand. “So tomorrow it is.” He walks closer to you and extends his hand for you to take, helping you out of the booth. “And you’ve got the rest of the night off.”

“Oh, I carpooled today so, I have to wait anyway,” you explain, though the idea of leaving early sounds like heaven.

“I’ll drive you. Get your things, I’ll have the car pulled around,” he supplies easily. He leaves to the front of the restaurant and you stand in your stupor for only a moment longer before you move to get your things from the back. You have a silly thought worrying about giving him your address, then remember he’s had it this entire time. And he told you you had nothing to worry about.

You’re not a typically trusting person, even more so after Fred, but there's something about Bucky. Something trustworthy, something that feels safe.

You grab your bag and let Molly know you’re leaving early and you got a ride before you head to the front to find Bucky.

He’s waiting patiently and his eyes seem to light up just a bit when he sees you coming.

Your manager is smiling tightly behind the stand as she watches you go. You feel slightly bad for just cutting out like this, but once Bucky came in, the place cleared out some, so it’s not like they’re in the midst of a rush.

You let your work worries slip away as the brisk night air hits you, Bucky holds the door for you as you exit and then opens the passenger of his sleek, blacked out Jaguar for you to get in.

You always assumed someone like him, in his position, would have a driver, but maybe that’s just not his style.

Bucky gets in and as you buckle, begins to drive off. You don’t need to supply him with your address as he heads in the right direction without a word.

It’s quiet but not unbearably so. It’s not until you’re just a couple minutes away from your place that he breaks the silence.

“I’ll pick you up at 7 tomorrow. I figure it’s a delicate conversation we’ll be having, so somewhere private would be better. Are you okay with going to my place? We can have dinner.”

It’s a genuine question, and the earnestness of it eases your nerves even further. He’s truly asking, genuinely concerned with your comfortability.

“Mhm,” you nod with a quiet hum. “Yeah.”

He pulls up in front of your house, the porch light on and shining because you knew you wouldn’t be off until late.

The car cuts off and you turn to face Bucky only to find him opening his door and getting out himself.

You grab your bag and follow him with your eyes as he rounds the car to get to your side. He gallantly pulls open the door for you and helps you out with care. You stand and he closes the car door before you start up the path to the front door. It’s a short walk and as you reach the door you turn to look at him as he stays beside you.

“Thank you, for the ride, and…” you trail off not knowing how to articulate what it is you want to say. Thankfully he doesn’t make you continue. He smiles softly at you.

“It’s my pleasure, sweetheart.”

You blink at him. You don’t know what else to say. You finally look away and turn to the door to unlock it.

“When you said I don’t have anything to worry about,”

“I meant you don’t have anything to worry about,” he answers you before you finish your question. “I’m gonna make this all go away, I just need to know if there’s any loose ends we need to tie up to be done with it, that’s all.”

Your eyes sting again. He makes it sound so easy, so simple.

“I-“ your voice threatens to break.

“Hey, we don’t needa talk about it right now, doll. You just go inside, relax, eat, get some rest. You don’t gotta stress a thing anymore, alright? I’ve got you, there’s nothin for you to worry about.”

“…Why are you being so nice to me?” you look at him with bleary eyes as you crack the front door open and ask the question you’ve been wondering for the past two months.

He takes a small step closer to you and gently turns your face to look at him. “Why do you expect cruelty?”

You stutter a breath as you look at him and feel the memories of the year you spent caught up with Freddy stab at you. You know why, and you’re sure he does, too. But there’s no sense of judgment coming from him, and you don’t feel embarrassed; not like the way you do in front of your mom. She’s the only other person who knows what happened, what your dad did. For you.

She never said it, you don’t expect she ever will, but you can sense the thoughts, the subtle judgement from her, especially when this all first happened. She doesn’t know the truth but you don’t have the care to tell her. Because even if what she assumed was true, it doesn’t change anything. No one deserves that.

But the truth is, you didn’t stay. The first time he put his hands on you, you were gone. He just wouldn’t leave you alone. You were together for six months at that point and they were nice, nothing overly romantic like you see in the movies, but nice. You weren’t expecting anything long lasting, marriage wasn’t even a thought. You knew he wasn’t the one, but dating was… fun. And then, one day, a switch flipped.

He wasn’t the kind, but nonchalant guy you thought he was. He was angry, like it was your fault the relationship wasn’t what he wanted, that it wasn’t more. He wanted it to work so badly, but he knew it never would. That only kept his ire burning. And so during the other six months you were ‘together’ you were really nothing close. You avoided him every chance you got and when he’d find his way in he’d always be sure to leave his mark. He kept up appearances of course, to everyone it seemed. You didn’t want to look crazy, so what were you going to say? ‘I broke up with him months ago and I don’t know why he won’t accept that. He uses me like a punching bag when he gets me alone - when he breaks into my car, my home, any way he can weasel into my life.’ He was in with the mob and everyone knew it, so even if they believed you, what the hell would anyone be able to do? At a certain point you just kind of accepted that this must be it. He’d always just be around somehow. Stories of your on and off again relationship floating around thanks to him - he wanted everyone to know that even if you weren’t together, you were together. Making it harder and harder for you in every way possible.

And then, one day, everything changed.

Now you’re here, and he isn’t.

Now you’re here, and so is James Barnes.

His warm hand is still holding your face and his thumb gently rubs your soft cheek, almost mindlessly, while he peers at you - intent as ever. That softness you saw before is back and you have to remind yourself to breathe when you notice his gaze flit to your lips. It’s brief, fleeting as his hand drops and he meets your eyes once more. He takes back his step and you watch him take a deep breath himself, the first time you’ve ever seen him be anything close to unsteady, if that’s what you can call it.

You break eye contact first, looking down to the small space between you while you push your door open a bit more, holding onto the handle with one hand.

“Have a good night,” he says, voice low and quiet as he watches you step closer yet to the door.

You look at him again then, “You too,” you bid softly, finally stepping inside.

He nods and waits for you to close the door behind yourself. As you push it shut, you catch a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, and then that fluttering in your belly returns again.

You turn the lock and then press yourself up against the wood, exhaling heavily.

You feel relieved and yet ten times more terrified in the very same breath.

The most pressing feeling in this very moment though is a weird kind of guilt.

You feel more for a man you’ve only known for two months than you ever did for Freddy in the entire time you’d known him. Bucky is intimidating, obviously, and you know what he does, what he’s known for; he’s a man anyone would tell you to avoid at all costs. But when he’s around, there’s this feeling you get that you just can’t shake. You feel safe around him.

He’s known for being a man of his word, and his words to you have never been anything but thoughtful and…caring. He may prod, but he’s never threatened you. Truth be told, you think maybe he’s known this entire time what really happened. Or at least that you were involved somehow. And still, he wasn’t harsh with you even once. He was doing his own investigation this entire time, of course, and if he’d wanted to get the truth from you, surely he could have- he could’ve saved a lot of time too. Could’ve even gone after your dad.

But he didn’t do any of those things. No, he’s been patient, waiting until he had enough proof without having to pry anything out of you. At the very least you were grateful for that.

Not to mention the fact that he had called you pretty. It seems silly given the circumstances, but it did warm you when the compliment hit. It’s crazy but it’s clear that you’re feeling feelings for one James Bucky Barnes. God help you.

Alongside the unexpected romantic stirrings you’re coming to terms with, the anxiety and stress of the truth you’ve been trying, and apparently failing, to keep about what happened to Freddy has been weighing heavily on you, but with Bucky’s veiled acknowledgment of it, you feel more free already.

It’d be a lie to say you aren’t nervous for tomorrow night, but it’d also be a lie to say a part of you isn’t looking forward to it, too. If for no reason other than what Bucky said; to finally just be done with this whole mess.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Helper III

Lia Wälti x Mariona Caldentey x Child!Reader

Summary: You help your Mummy's girlfriend

Mariona knew about you before she started dating Lia.

It would be practically impossible otherwise.

She can still remember the uproar that went through the gossip vines when Lia took a break due to injury only to announce she was pregnant. At the time, Mariona hadn't paid much attention to it.

She'd seen the pictures, of course, announcing your arrival but she hadn't had any plans to see you. She and Lia weren't close back then.

But then Ana started talking about you both.

First it was 'my best friend Lia' and 'my little niece' that Ana seemed to throw out randomly but then Mariona started paying attention to it. You and Lia had existed on the fringes of her awareness for a while until Lia joined Mariona and Ana's girl's holiday.

You hadn't been there, spending the time with your grandparents back in Switzerland so Mariona got to know Lia without you and then, as time went on, she got to know Lia with you too.

Now she was here though.

At Arsenal after ten years at Barcelona.

"You ready?" Lia asks.

They'd driven separately today.

Mariona had gotten her own apartment rather than moving straight in though both she and Lia know she'll be spending a lot of time with you and Lia at the house.

"Yeah. I think so."

"It'll be great," Lia assures you, opening one of the backseat car doors and undoing your seatbelt," Won't it, guppy?"

"Uh-huh!"

You slide out of the car as Lia goes to get all the bags out of the boot. You place your hand in Mariona's.

"You have to hold hands in the car park," You tell her," Mummy says so. And you can't run either. That's dangerous."

"Oh, wow," Mariona pretends to be surprised," Thanks for telling me."

You beam at her and Lia looks at you both fondly.

"I'm going to school this year," You tell Mariona," So I won't be around a lot."

"I heard you are very excited."

"I am. Mummy already taught me how to read and how to add and take away."

"Well, I think you'll do very well at school then."

Your little chest puffs out in pride as the three of you make your way into the locker room.

You drop Mariona's hand then to go running over to Codi.

You didn't get to see her for most of the summer so now that preseason's rolled around, you just can't contain yourself.

Codi's your best friend at Arsenal, you think. She's fun and cool and has cows back home in Spain that she sends Mummy pictures of for you to see.

Codi does puzzles with you, at Arsenal and at home too. It's quite fun.

She's friends with Mariona as well and she told you once that Mario is just a big puppy sometimes. You haven't met a lot of puppies in your life except for Jordan's Blu and Beth and Viv's Myle but you think you understand what Codi is saying.

Mariona has an infectious kind of happiness.

Infectious is one of the words Mummy taught you last night when you were reading together so you're very proud of yourself for knowing how to use it.

"Guppy!" Mummy calls," Come on, breakfast!"

You usually have two breakfasts. One at home which is your main one. It's cereal most of the time and you and Mummy clean the dishes together before you come to training to get your second breakfast.

This one is usually a bacon roll or something smaller depending on how much first breakfast you eat.

You tell Mariona this as you walk with her, swinging your joint arms.

"I just need to go talk to Kim," Lia says," Guppy can take you to grab food, right Guppy?"

"I can help!"

You lead Mariona over to the buffet and hand her a plate.

"What do you want?" She asks.

"I'm meant to be helping you!"

She laughs and it's that infectious kind of laugh that has you giggling too.

"We can help each other."

In the end, you both end up with food on your plate and you practically drag Mario over to where Leah is eating.

"You're not eating properly," You tell her and Leah groans.

"Come on, it's the first day of preseason! Have we got to start this now?"

"Yes. That's not proper food, auntie Leah!"

Mariona has to smother her laugh. She's not really sure what to make of Leah now that they're on the same team but she knows Leah's important to you and Lia. She's just not sure where the boundaries are right now.

"Yeah," Leah says," You laugh it up Caldentey, just you wait. She'll be on you of your eating habits."

"No I won't!" You insist," Because Mariona eats healthy!"

At first, Mariona was a little confused about how you would fit in with the Arsenal girls. She couldn't wrap her head around what it would be like with such a little kid running around with the team would look like.

But, as she watches you wander around with a clipboard in her own apartment, she can see you're exactly like you are in private.

Overwhelmingly helpful.

She hasn't unpacked yet so she was a little confused as to why you and Lia followed her back from training, only for Lia to get out of the car and tell her you've been preparing for this moment for weeks now.

You hold the same clipboard from training right now and number boxes with a little pencil.

Lia sits on the sofa, watching you with a fond expression.

"Don't mind her," She tells Mariona," She'll let us know when she wants to put us to work."

"Are you sure? I can-"

"Leave her," Lia insists," She gets annoyed when people interrupt her 'system'. She'll get us when it's time."

You touch every box twice, tapping the top before noting down the number on your little clipboard.

"She's very smart."

"She cried last year when I told her she just missed the cut off date for school. She spent all of her time trying to learn what she'll be learning this year."

"Scarily smart, then."

"She's a good girl." Lia watches as you do a second sweep of the boxes. "And she's very excited that you're here."

"Is she?" Mariona frowns. "But-"

"She thinks you're super cool like Codi."

"Does she?"

"I mean, you don't have cows like Codi does but Guppy really wants to see how well you can puzzle. It's her favourite activity."

"Puzzling? Really?"

"Why? Are you surprised?"

Mariona turns her head to watch you poke around a box that she's sure has all of her electronics in.

"No. That tracks. I think I'm more surprised that she got Codi into puzzling."

"Mummy!" You call out before Lia can respond," Mariona! I'm ready."

Lia stands smoothly, "Alright. Where do you want us?"

You look down at your list, quiet for a moment as you sound out what you've written there. "Boxes one and four need to go in the kitchen! Two and three are all clothes and five has a bunch of decorations. Six and-"

"Let's take it room by room," Lia says," Let's start with the kitchen."

You nod, head bobbing up and down twice. "Okay! Boxes one and four!"

Lia grabs one of them, hefting it up into her arms and heading into the kitchen to start unpacking.

"Come on, Mariona," You say, taking her hand," Me and Mummy are going to help!"

[star-girl-05]

Follow Me

Rick Sanchez x Reader

~★~❤︎~✦~

Morty was the first to notice, followed by Summer who then told everyone else. After she told everyone, the next dinner they all subtly stared at Rick and you. Of course Rick notices all their looks but decides to ignore it, not in the mood to deal with whatever is bothering them this week. 

He continues to eat his meal, wiping his mouth against the back of his hand when he’s finished. He pushes his dish forward, grabbing your hand. Not even bothering to look to see if you're finished. Just leading you away from the table and towards the garage, and you just follow him dropping your fork. 

They watch the two of you walk away, Summer only speaks up when she hears the click of the garage door shut. “What the actual fuck was that?” She looked around the table looking for an answer. 

“He does it all the time” Morty says “Everytime he leaves a room he grabs their hand.”  

That piqued both Summer and Beth's curiosity. Jerry of course was in his own little bubble. “When did he start doing that?” Beth questions, she tries to think back to see if she could remember but nothing specific comes to mind. 

“I don’t know, I just noticed it a few weeks ago” Morty responds.  “When I brought it up he pretended to not know what I was talking about.” 

Summer chuckles, “I think Grandpa Rick has a crush” she teases not once looking up from her phone. 

Just then you walk back into the dinning room, “Sorry left my phone” you pick up the device going to walk back. “Oh Beth, dinner was lovely thanks again” 

Beth gives you a sweet smile, “No problem” before you turn away Beth asks the question that’s on her mind. “Hey Y/n what's with Dad dragging you out of the room?” Summer and Morty are both surprised at their mothers bluntness. 

“Oh, I’m not really sure either, he just started doing it I don’t mind though” Beth says nothing but ‘Oh’. You give her a small nod heading back to the garage. She doubts she’ll get an answer from her Dad so that answer will have to suffice. 

~THE GARAGE~

“What took you so long?” Rick doesn’t look up at you tinkering with the little gizmo in his hand. 

“Beth was wondering why you dragged me out of rooms” Rick just muttered a small ‘okay’ but now that Beth mentioned it you wanted an answer. “So why do you always drag me?” He sets down the item he’s working on turning towards you. 

“I need someone to hand me my screwdriver” you can’t help but be a little disappointed in his answer. He ignores your pouty face instead vaguely pointing across the room. You sigh moving to where he pointed to grab the requested screwdriver. “and I like you being close to me” he says under his breath as you sort through the drawer. 

“What did you say?” you question a screwdriver in hand. 

He clears his throat “Make sure its a flat head”, you chuckle under your breath, you knew he liked you. “Why are you smiling like that?” he asks when you hand him the screwdriver. 

“No reason”

“Sure” he grumbles but doesn’t question you further, opting to go back to tinkering with his little square. While you just watch grabbing a tool for him every once in a while.

[captain-marble]

silly thought that i’ve been rotating at might write someday (although knowing me…)

anyways!

someone gets mad and pranks the justice league by releasing clips of their embarrassing moments on tower (nothing that could reveal identities but still embarrassing)

it’s stuff like marvel failing at cooking

batman being sleep deprived and trying to parent different league members (namely marvel)

flash running into walls and things (a lot)

superman being afraid of a shoe and litterally leaping into the air to get away from it. (it was green)

anyways everyone find this hillarious and the members are a lil mortified. But fawcett takes it into their own hands to give marvel food (litterally he has too much food to know what to do with) to the point he ends up like going around sharing it with the homeless kids and stuff

not only that but the league decide to take it into their own hands to teach marvel. cut to videos being released of marvel learning to cook with different leaguers

superman: marv can you pass me a rolling pin? so what you’ve got to do is-

marvel looking at a pot of utensils questioning…. before tentatively holding out a masher: ?

superman: (blinks)

supes probably teaches him how to make apple pie and talk about how if you don’t use the sugar you can use the pie crust to make savoury pies too and blah blah life hack. his parents probably mean he’s the worst offender for trying to shove food or recipes onto marvel

hal and barry prolly teach him how to make like single guy with a shitty job type grind shit that’s like carb loaded and you can just bulk make and store ands got everything you need (cuz they always busy as hell and ain’t rich or anything so don’t got the time or stuff to make tons of food) (it kinda looks like struggle food but yk it gets them through)

hal: so yeah you just dump everything in and if it starts to look radioactive then you know it’s cooked-

billy ‘orphan street rat will eat anything’ batson: damn bitch you live like this? /silly

diana teaches him a greek dish from her childhood that she thinks marvel would feel nostalgic for (i mean billy doesn’t but he remembers eating it in past lives and the thought diana put into it really comforts him)

bruce either a) refuses to teach marvel anything as he himself cannot cook and won’t let the work know that (as all of these cooking videos have been being leaked to the internet who are EATING IT UP like it’s not just fawcett anymore everyone loves cap now becuase you can tell he’s just that authentic cuz his ass does not know these are being filmed) b) cannot cook so it ends up just being a hot mess c) they learn to make a new recipe together d) he has alfred teach him how to make something so he doesn’t embarrass himself e) he teaches marvel how to make struggle food that’s worse than hal and barry’s

marvel: aren’t you funded by a billionaire?

batman: hm

marvel: batman….damn bitch you live like this???????????

everyone just dogs on batman online for like banging bruce wayne (no one believes that the butts match :/ ) and yet still being ass at cooking, like bro is at nuclear levels of damn you live like this with his struggle food

anyways cap finds out about the cooking with cap vids and immediately gets all embarrassed that people know he sucks at cooking, fawcett lay off a little on giving him food now they know that the JL are helping him, but he regularly receives copies of old cook books and someone’s nans favourite recipe and stuff and he’s taking home enough food from the JL to actually eat well and is therefore a lot happier and so the JL are like wow marv really likes cooking, and so at least like once a week (usually more) someone (or sometimes just he will) will cook with him and he’ll take home the left overs (if people eat any otherwise he just takes it all himself (despite him frantically offering the food out to people cuz he feels bad for taking so much))

years later when the identity reveal happens they’re like wow??? this makes so much sense???? i’m so glad we’ve been inadvertently feeding the homeless child??? yippee for him not starving and being more healthy that he would’ve been????

but yeah it’s so silly and i think billy would actually love having the chance to eat foods he’s never had before, especially where he spent so long on the streets that he kinda was forced to like ration and buy cheap food, so like he’s being treated by trying new foods and risking not liking it and stuff

but yeah i just think cap cooking and baking is neat teehee

[apeachty]

₊ ˚ ⊹ ♡ . ⠀small and cute

⠀⠀⠀txt x small chested fem!reader

genre ; smut

warnings | tags ; mentions of sex (obviously); my regular & favorite ooc; but i think that's it. written like "reaction to" or something like that. and questionable writing skills and engish speaking abilities.

i'm not sure if it's actually bad enough for mdni, but just in case...

wordcount ; less than 1k overall, so like 0.2k and less for each member.

✉ notes ; my soobin's tiny fic with the same idea got many notes in a short period of time, so i kinda thought people were interested (?), so i decided to write it for all the members.

also tagging @biteyoubiteme despite not asking her about it beforehand, but she encourages me a lot and i love her and i'm her fangirl, go check her fics if you haven't yet!!

titles i come up with are getting worse and worse... and i'm tired of trying to come up with banners, so let me introduce ot5 banner for when i have no idea what to choose

⠀⠀⠀[ masterlist is here ]

⠀⠀⠀✧⠀⠀soobin

boobies are boobies, awesome in all shapes and sizes. doesn't care much, and treats all the tits the same—with love, care and adoration. maybe a bit of obsession. talks to your boobs sometimes ("you're so cute" — "me?" — "uhhh you and them?..")

if you're insecure, would be extra careful with what he says about boobies in general (doesn't want you to become more insecure because everyone around him says he loves big chest, and will defend "all sizes are great" with his life, shame forgotten, if anyone ever says it in front of you).

will be the happiest man alive, if—but let's be honest, it's 'when'—you allow him to push his hand up your shirt any moment he wants. and every time he does, he becomes just a tiny bit happier. sleeping, watching movies, brushing teeth together. you sometimes wonder if he even needs second hand for anything except your chest (he does. gaming controller for example)

⠀⠀⠀✧⠀⠀yeonjun

doesn't care much for boobies in general at first. of course, he explores your body to see what you do and don't like, and if he sees that you react well to boob play, he'll note it and use it of course, but only when it comes to some kind of intimacy.

if he finds out you're insecure (or were insecure at some point in the past), you're spoiled. you thought he was spoiling you with all these lingerie back then? you haven't seen nothing yet. the guy knows your measurements (he tries his best to remember it with his palms, even tho you tried to explain you should grab a body measuring tape or you can just tell him the size easily, but he was determined to measure it himself he found an excuse to cup your chest, it won't be easy to convince him to let go) and your taste in it.

thanks to you started thinking small boobies are cute. his soul leaves his body every time you wear a tight t-shirt or tanktop without a bra around the house. he can also be your human bra if you want, but he pops a boner too fast.

⠀⠀⠀✧⠀⠀beomgyu

just like for soobin, tits are tits for him (all are awesome), and he doesn't think about its size even for a second, it just never crosses his mind. and just like yeonjun, he knows if your chest is sensitive and what exactly you like.

but he'd be so cruel about it— if you ever say 'yes' to him asking if he can play with your boobs while you're not having sex... well, you are having sex in just five minutes, because he knows just where to pinch, how to tug and how hard to squeeze (he's just too attentive).

and he's going to do it completely randomly, you can be washing dishes (and what a shame, your hands are wet and you can't push his hands away without making your t-shirt wet too), and he's right behind you, his hands are already there (it turns into a simple back hug pretty soon tho, he's just a huge softy)

now i need to write a fluffy ridiculous try at washing dishes with beomgyu behind you and trying to help you with it—

⠀⠀⠀✧⠀⠀taehyun

the guy is so mature, he has that "breasts are not for me to rate, breasts are for feeding children" view, of course, he pays lots of attention to it when it comes to sex (if you want him to, of course), but for him that interest for chest stays in bedroom (or anywhere you have sex at), he's more or less indifferent to it outside of it.

at least he thinks so until at some point you take off your shirt at the gym and stay in a sport bra only (because big boobs or small, sports bra are the comfiest), and he almost pops a boner right there. he himself doesn't understand what's so damn hot about it, but he just can't tear his eyes away from you.

buys you dozens of outfits for fitness/workout/yoga after it (gets teased by his shopping buddy yeonjun mercilessly for that) and really wants to buy tight tops but always asks you if you're comfortable with that (get yourself a guy like taehyun—)

going to the gym with him after it... sexual tension is felt few floors away, because you both can't look away from each other.

⠀⠀⠀✧⠀⠀kai

sleeping on your chest is his favorite thing to do— no matter how many times you try to push him off because "i'm too flat, it's not comfortable for you", he always asks you if it's comfortable for you (he only asked it to make sure you're fine few times, and now he just asks it to prove a point), and you always say it is (you once tried to lie and say it's not, he looked so heartbroken, you never do it again), so he just lays back on your chest and enjoys it.

does it even more often when he's negative kai, but much less gently, no puppy eyes for you if you try to push him away. just pulls you closer (sorry for your bones, he sometimes forgets how strong he is), and if you still try to fight him, might even get his hand under your shirt and pinch side of your boob. he just knows you love it when he lays on your chest, and he's not in the mood for your little tantrums (will def stop if you ask him to tho, he just knows you're fine).

[oceanicwriting]

is not allowed.

summary: since the holidays began, you have taken care of the youngest son of the berkshire family. one night, while the little one sleeps, the creature's older brother is home, and the sensations begin to be too intense to keep you standing.

pairing(s): non-wizard!lorenzo berkshire x non-wizard!fem!reader

a/n: my first lorenzo fic! i tried my best.

+18 smut, oral sex (f!receiving), masturbation (f!receiving), silence sex, countertop, cursing

ㅤㅤㅤ—we're leaving! —mrs. berkshire announces, appearing in the kitchen where franklin, her youngest son, is eating dinner—. remember...

ㅤㅤㅤ—no more video games and straight to sleep when the clock strikes eight —the little one interrupts, receiving a loud kiss from his mother and four pats on the back from his father—. you've already told her many times, mom.

ㅤㅤㅤthe woman laughs, and even if franklin had told her, she repeats her conditions again in a whisper. when they leave, the boy starts talking about his best friend carl's birthday party.

ㅤㅤㅤever since summer started and you returned to your hometown, you've taken care of franklin berkshire. your mother, who has been a friend of the family for a while, had helped you get the job that the other babysitter had abandoned for no apparent reason. no one talked about it, and when you asked franklin the first few weeks, he always got in a bad mood.

ㅤㅤㅤ—and lisa made out with holden —he says, finishing telling all the things that happened on that birthday. you look at him, surprised by what he had just said—. a kiss on the cheek.

ㅤㅤㅤ—that seems more appropriate to me. aren't you, like, five years old to be making out? —the little boy's face at your words makes you laugh, but you stop when you notice that he is pushing the asparagus away from his salad—. you must eat everything that is on your plate, young man.

ㅤㅤㅤ—we are ten years old. —he answers, crossing his arms—. and i do not like asparagus.

ㅤㅤㅤyou laugh softly, but you stop when lorenzo berkshire, the oldest son of the family, appears well dressed in the kitchen.

ㅤㅤㅤ—she told you that you have to eat everything, dwarf. —his thick voice fills all the empty space of the place, and you can notice how franklin tense with his presence—. she will accuse you with your mommy.

ㅤㅤㅤyou knew they didn't get along at all. franklin started saying he was a fool from day one, and when you met him, you could only confirm it.

ㅤㅤㅤ—lorenzo...

ㅤㅤㅤ—you don't order me around —franklin says, getting up from his chair to leave the kitchen with quick steps.

ㅤㅤㅤlorenzo rolls his eyes, and you go after the little boy, but you stop to look at him and say—: can you stop picking fights with him? he's just a kid.

ㅤㅤㅤhe looks at you. his cold, disinterested eyes are attractive, making you forget that you're after the boy.

ㅤㅤㅤ—will you wash this glass for me, darling? —he leaves the glass in which he drank water and smiles satisfied—. thanks.

ㅤㅤㅤyou want to say something, but lorenzo walks out the door to the garage, not in the mood to listen to you much longer.

ㅤㅤㅤwhen you meet franklin in the living room, you notice that he's still frowning. to cheer him up, you suggest to play a board game until eight o'clock, filling the room with your laughter and complaints every time you beat him. you play until the phone rings the alarm that tells you to get him ready for bed.

ㅤㅤㅤ—are you still mad about your brother? —you ask. he's lying in his bed, covered up to his neck, and his uneasy gaze glued to the ceiling of the room.— you know he does this to make you angry, franklin. you shouldn't listen to him.

ㅤㅤㅤ—he's an idiot.

ㅤㅤㅤyou nod softly, leaving a kiss on his forehead to wish him goodnight and leaving the room. as usual, you leave the door ajar in case he wakes up in the middle of the night and goes down to the first floor.

ㅤㅤㅤmr. and mrs. berkshire would arrive home around midnight, so, killing time, you start washing franklin's dirty dishes.

ㅤㅤㅤwhen it was around ten at night, you decided to watch a movie in the living room, but you couldn't do it without some snacks to accompany you. in the cupboard, you look for a bag of popcorn to make in the microwave, although you didn't finish closing the appliance because lorenzo's presence in the kitchen makes its way like a tornado.

ㅤㅤㅤthe garage door had closed so hard that it practically echoed throughout the block, and his footsteps weren't far behind. his whole body moved tensely towards the kitchen exit, dragging an air full of rage.

ㅤㅤㅤ—franklin is asleep, lorenzo. —the simple sound of your voice makes him stop halfway, turning on his heels—. i would appreciate it if you did not stomp so hard on the second floor.

ㅤㅤㅤhis eyes scan your body, this time more slowly than before leaving a few hours ago. the confusion in your gaze is obvious, but lorenzo does not seem to notice it. he was so angry at the way his now ex-girlfriend had treated him that he did not notice anything other than the figure of your body.

ㅤㅤㅤ—what time do my parents arrive? —he asks, walking in your direction slowly.

ㅤㅤㅤlorenzo berkshire is a tall boy with brown hair and eyes. his smooth, flawless skin gave the impression that he had never had a bad day in his life. he was spoiled, envious, demanding, and the epitome of beauty in all its letters.

ㅤㅤㅤ—at midnight —you answer, putting the bags of popcorn in the microwave and walking to find a bowl to put them in.

ㅤㅤㅤ—that gives me enough time —he says. you were going to ignore his words and the way your body reacted to feeling his gaze on you, but you can't when his hand tightens on your arm—. do you have a boyfriend?

ㅤㅤㅤ—what? —you pull on his arm to get him to let go of you, but there is no reaction from him—. what are you doing? leave me.

ㅤㅤㅤhe shakes his head, cornering you against the nearest wall.

ㅤㅤㅤ—do you have a boyfriend?

ㅤㅤㅤ—why do you care?

ㅤㅤㅤyour head spins from the strong scent of alcohol on his breath and expensive perfume wafting from his bare neck. lorenzo has his dark eyes glued to yours so intensely that it was suffocating.

ㅤㅤㅤ—no. i don't have a boyfriend.

ㅤㅤㅤhe smiles, satisfied that he doesn't have to do much more to get an answer out of you. his tongue runs over his teeth in the middle of his smile, and you feel a dead weight fall on your stomach. the hand that was holding your arm began to rise with the tips of his fingers caressing your skin. when he reaches your neck, without stopping to look at you, your whole body bristles.

ㅤㅤㅤ—lorenzo, what are you...?

ㅤㅤㅤ—so precious.

ㅤㅤㅤhis face moves closer to the crook of your neck, leaving wet kisses, running his tongue over it, and sucking on parts of your skin. your perfume stings his nose, and you can feel him sigh against you. the sensations blooming unsettle you because you knew you were doing something that wasn't allowed. something forbidden was brewing between you two, and you had to do something before it get out of control.

ㅤㅤㅤ—lorenzo, wait —you say, pushing him. he responds to your reaction with a raised eyebrow—. your brother is sleeping upstairs.

ㅤㅤㅤyou should have said something else to stop him, something as simple as not wanting to do it, but the unsatisfied feeling had already begun to torture your mind.

ㅤㅤㅤ—then you better not be so boisterous, precious.

ㅤㅤㅤlorenzo pulls your arm, pushing you afterward against the island. everything happens so fast that from one moment to the next, you are sitting on the raw ivory of the island, half dressed and feeling his mouth wander fearlessly along the expanse of your torso. this time, he bites, licks, and sucks more roughly than a few minutes ago when he hid his face in your neck.

ㅤㅤㅤyour breathing becomes disordered when you can feel his messy hair tickling the inside of your thighs. his face so close to your needy pussy makes you clench the throbbing wetness. lorenzo smiles like a predator and begins to kiss the expanse of your soft legs.

ㅤㅤㅤ—l-lorenzo —you try to say, formulate a complete sentence that would make him enter his five senses, but you can't when you yourself feel your own desire forming—. please.

ㅤㅤㅤhis mouth slams against your pussy, making you jump at the sensation. lorenzo's tongue wanders between your lips, clitoris and entrance as if he wanted to memorize every texture he can find. it's a matter of time before your moans have to be silenced by your own hand.

ㅤㅤㅤlorenzo berkshire knew how to tap his tongue against your folds, how to suck on your clit until you were satisfied and how to look at you to turn you into a bundle of muffled moans. although you would never have imagined it, now that you see him there, you think about how much you would like to do it more often.

ㅤㅤㅤshortly after, one of his hands joins the wetness of his mouth, burying himself without any preparation in you. tears accumulate in your eyes from the combination of his fingers probing your insides roughly and his mouth demanding more every time a moan escaped you. the sensations begin to drive you crazy.

ㅤㅤㅤhe can notice the way your thighs squeeze his head, so he sucks and flicks his tongue faster as his fingers don't leave a moment of peace. as surprising as it may be, the desire you had built up explodes against his face buried in you. his fingers are the first to break contact, but his lips are still there, taking every drop of your liquids.

ㅤㅤㅤ—e-enzo.

ㅤㅤㅤhe looks at you, letting the cold of his absence crash against your pussy.

ㅤㅤㅤ—what's the problem, darling? why do you have that face? —the mocking tone that colors his voice only sends thousands of exciting signals throughout your body—. i can't wait to be inside you.

ㅤㅤㅤlorenzo unbuttons his shirt, throwing it to the floor and unbuttoning his pants afterward. when he's half naked, you can make out the bulge pressed against his underwear, a bulge that he leaves free before your gaze, and he smiles satisfied by the expression on your face.

ㅤㅤㅤ—you're going to come ask me for more, i know it —he says. there's so little shame in his gaze that you can't believe what you were about to do—. this is all for you for tonight.

ㅤㅤㅤhe takes your legs, his hands burying themselves in your skin to put them on his shoulders. your back falls against the cold surface of the island.

ㅤㅤㅤ—why aren't you saying anything?

ㅤㅤㅤyou look away, knowing that you were a terrible liar and in a vulnerable state like this, you wouldn't be able to go unnoticed. you wanted him to bury himself in you, to find a space inside you and make you cum like he did a moment ago. lorenzo can't stand that you don't look at him and pulls your hair to force you.

ㅤㅤㅤ—come on, tell me.

ㅤㅤㅤhis brown gaze fixed on yours and his erect member pushing against your pussy don't let you think clearly.

ㅤㅤㅤ—lorenzo, please. i need you to do it.

ㅤㅤㅤa smile draws on his lips, pushing the tip of his cock against your entrance.

ㅤㅤㅤ—you need me to do what? —he whispers, slowly thrusting inside you—. so tight.

ㅤㅤㅤthe sensation starts to burn, hurt, and transform into a thousand other things in moments.

ㅤㅤㅤ—answer the fucking question.

ㅤㅤㅤ—i need you to make me come again, please. lorenzo, i need you.

ㅤㅤㅤwith one push, he finds himself balls deep inside you. your legs are on his shoulders, hugged by one of his arms, and his free hand covers your mouth as you let out a loud moan. the sensation filling every corner of your body so perfectly that it was exquisite.

ㅤㅤㅤ—shut your mouth, shit.

ㅤㅤㅤthat doesn't stop his movement, going in and out faster each time. lorenzo was just as eager as you to feel you. ha was watching your breasts bounce from the rhythm he's set, eyes filled with tears from the inability to moan like you want and hot air hitting his hand. he loved the sight so much that he could fuck you all night if he had the chance.

ㅤㅤㅤ—more? —he questions, still moving his hips.

ㅤㅤㅤyou look at him, his breasts as erratic as yours and his collar bouncing every time he hits you. the sound of your skin colliding is heard louder and louder on the walls of the kitchen.

ㅤㅤㅤ—i can feel you want more when you squeeze my cock.

ㅤㅤㅤyou nods, almost crying desperately.

ㅤㅤㅤlorenzo's back and forth starts to get messier but fast. the feeling of his cock burying itself deeper and deeper, drowning your moans each time and holding you were turning your head into a jumble of insane thoughts.

ㅤㅤㅤhe can notice how your body reacts, squeezing his cock more and more. then, letting go of your legs to fall on either side of his hip, he begins to massage your clit in quick circles. your back arches from the outbreak of all your desire about to explode again.

ㅤㅤㅤ—come on, precious, cum like you wanted.

ㅤㅤㅤlorenzo stretches over you, uncovering your mouth and kissing you in a messy movement. that had been enough to make you come in a scream that is muffled against his hot mouth. his member still inside you, his tongue now wandering around the inside of your mouth and his hand coming up to hold you cheek. there was so much charge in that kiss that the separation of his body against yours is surprising.

ㅤㅤㅤ—clean up this mess before my parents get here —he says, taking his clothes and putting on his pants.

ㅤㅤㅤsomehow, confused and weak, you try to clean up the mess until you realize that you just had sex with the older brother of the boy you were going to take care of for the rest of the long summer.

[nameless-jamie]

And they were Roommates...

Masterlist

Jamie Tartt x fem! PA reader

TW: cursing, suggestive scenes

9 pm. The knocking at Y/N's door was loud. Too loud. And too persistent for it to be anyone but Jamie Tartt.

She sighed, tossing her phone onto the coffee table as she made her way to the door. She was so close to ignoring it but knowing Jamie, he’d either stand out there all night or start texting her ridiculous things like I’ve been kidnapped or What if I perish in the hallway?

With an exhausted huff, Y/N pulled the door open. Personal assistant is a 24/7 job after all.

There he stood, his signature pout firmly in place, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, and his hoodie damp like he’d just run through a car wash. His normally perfect hair was sticking up in odd places, and the scent of chlorine and something vaguely metallic clung to him.

She blinked. “Jesus. What happened to you?”

Jamie exhaled, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. “Fucking pipes burst, didn’t they? Whole place’s flooded.”

She turned to watch as he plopped his duffel bag on her floor and immediately started toeing off his sneakers right in the middle of the hallway like he lived here.

“Okay… but why are you here?”

Jamie gave her a look. “Where else am I supposed to go?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Y/N crossed her arms. “Maybe a hotel? You can literally afford to stay at The Savoy.”

Jamie scoffed. “Yeah, but that ain’t as fun as annoyin’ ya in your own home.”

She stared at him, unimpressed.

“‘Sides,” he added, flashing a more genuine smile, “you’re my PA, love. Pretty sure takin’ care of me is in your contract somewhere.”

She opened her mouth, ready to argue—but technically, he wasn’t wrong. Managing Jamie Tartt’s life was literally her job. His schedule, his bookings, his diet, and sometimes even making sure he remembered to do laundry like a normal human being.

She groaned. “Fine. One night. But if you so much as breathe weird, you’re out.”

Jamie smirked. “Knew ya couldn’t resist me.”

Day One: And the chaos begins...

Her mistake was thinking Jamie would behave.

Within an hour, her flat had transformed into a disaster zone.

His boots? Dumped haphazardly by the door. His duffel bag? Exploded across the living room. And somehow—somehow—he had already managed to use every single clean glass in her kitchen.

“Jamie,” she groaned, stepping over a random sock, “I didn’t realize letting you stay here meant signing up for a full-time babysitting gig.”

Jamie, currently sprawled across her couch under her blanket, flashed her a lazy grin. “This is what ya signed up for when ya decided to work for me, love.”

“I work for you, not live with you.”

“Semantics.” He waved a hand. Then, after a beat, he smirked. “Kinda nice, though, yeah? Like a married couple an’ that.”

She shot him a glare.

He only cackled.

Day Two: The Naked Incident™

She woke up way too early the next morning.

It took her a moment to remember why her flat felt off—why there was an extra presence in her space, why she could hear the faint sounds of movement from the kitchen.

Jamie. Right.

With a groggy sigh, she stumbled out of bed and padded toward the kitchen. Her brain was not functioning yet. She just needed coffee. Nothing else mattered.

Except—

She stopped. Dead.

Jamie was standing by the counter, casually buttering a piece of toast. Shirt on top. Nothing else.

Her soul left her body.

“JAMIE.”

He looked up, completely unfazed. “Mornin’, love.”

She slapped a hand over her face. “What. The fuck.”

Jamie blinked. “What?”

She gestured wildly at all of him. “Why are you NAKED in my kitchen?!”

He snorted. “Not naked. Got me top on.”

“That doesn’t count.”

“‘Course it does,” he argued, taking a massively casual bite of toast. “Top half’s covered. Bottom half’s—y’know—free. I get hot at night an— ”

She made a strangled noise. “Jamie. Put. Some. Pants. On.”

He smirked. “Why? You peekin’?”

She almost threw a dish towel at him.

Instead, she turned on her heel and marched out of the kitchen. “This is exactly why you should be at a hotel.”

Jamie called after her, still grinning. “Oi, if we were married, ya wouldn’t be so uptight about seein’ your husband in his natural state.”

She grabbed the nearest pillow and launched it at his head.

Idiot.... His ass is fuckin' phenomenal, though.

Day Three: The Honeymoon

She had no idea how this happened.

One moment, they were watching a movie. The next, Jamie was close. Way too close.

He was draped across the couch, arm along the back, body turned toward her in a way that made the air feel different. His knee bumped against hers, and his stupid cologne was messing with her ability to think straight. They were freaking cuddling on the couch aka Jamie's current bed.

Then, he turned his head toward her, voice softer than usual. “This is nice.”

She swallowed, face beet-red. “Yeah. Kinda cozy.”

Jamie’s gaze flickered down to her lips, and suddenly, the air shifted.

Thick. Heavy. Loaded with something unspoken.

His eyes searched hers. Daring. Waiting.

And then—he smirked.

“Kinda romantic, yeah?” he teased. “Like it's our honeymoon, just without the sex. I mean doesn't have to be—”

The moment shattered.

She groaned, shoving him away. “Oh my God, GO TO BED.”

Jamie cackled. “Sweet dreams, missus Tartt.”

She threw a pillow at him. Again.

Day Four: Maybe, just maybe…it ain't so bad.

By the time Day Four rolled around, she had officially lost control of her own flat.

Jamie had taken over every inch of her space—his socks scattered around the floor, his duffel bag still wide open, and somehow, his ridiculous number of protein bars had migrated into her kitchen cabinets like they belonged there.

She could handle all of that. She could even handle the way he walked around half-naked and left his stupid expensive (sexy) cologne smell lingering on her couch.

But what she couldn’t handle was the way he was making it too easy.

Too easy to get used to. Too easy to imagine him sticking around.

And that thought? That was dangerous.

Because Jamie Tartt wasn’t hers.

She was his assistant. This was temporary.

Right?

So why did it feel like something was shifting?

Jamie was still a slob. A slob that cared... He can't seem to pick up his socks but does the dishes every night. He's so bad at cooking, but he makes her the best damn coffee every morning.

That night, everything came to a head.

It started with an argument.

A stupid one.

She’d been exhausted, running on fumes after a long day of sorting out his schedule, making calls, and handling things she probably should’ve let him deal with himself.

So when she got back to the flat and saw Jamie sprawled on the couch, feet kicked up like he didn’t have a single care in the world, something inside her snapped.

“Do you ever clean up after yourself?” she blurted, tossing her bag onto the table.

Jamie blinked up at her. “What?”

She gestured wildly. “This! All of this! Your boots, your socks, your ridiculous protein bars in my cabinets—Jamie, you’ve turned my flat into your personal playground.”

Jamie sat up, frowning now. “Alright, what’s this really about?”

“What do you mean?”

He tilted his head. “You ain’t mad about the boots. You’re mad about somethin’ else.”

Her jaw tightened. “I’m mad that you act like this is normal. Like we—like you’re supposed to be here.”

Jamie stared at her for a long moment.

Then, his voice softened. “And what if I enjoy being here with you?”

Her stomach flipped.

She shook her head. “Jamie—”

“I really like bein’ here,” he admitted, standing now, his expression serious in a way that made her breath hitch. “I like wakin’ up in the morning and seein’ you walk out all grumpy ‘cause you ain’t had coffee yet. I like makin’ you laugh when you’re tryin’ real hard to be pissed off at me.”

She swallowed. “That’s—”

He stepped closer. “And I like sittin’ on that couch with you, watchin’ shite movies, even when you’re yellin’ at me for leavin’ crumbs everywhere.”

Her heart was pounding.

Jamie reached up, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Gentle. Careful.

“I don't know, feels right, doesn’t it?” he murmured. “Like I belong here. With you. Near you.”

Her breath caught.

She could feel it—the moment balancing on a knife’s edge.

The air was thick with something dangerous. Something inevitable.

She could step back. Laugh it off. Pretend like this wasn’t happening.

Or—

Jamie’s fingers traced down her jaw, his eyes locked on hers.

“Tell me I’m wrong Y/N and I'll be out that door, no more socks on the floor, no more coffee in the mornin',” he whispered.

She didn’t.

She couldn’t.

Instead, she did the only thing she could—

She closed the gap and kissed him.

[mingi-s-dimples]

Dear Diary... - San

~"Hi love hope you’re doing well✨ Ive read your San kitten fic and I enjoyed it 😀tremendously 🔥. Now If it’s ok with you (I couldn’t find it in your blog that if you’re ok with this kink or nah) to write [cnc+ dirty talk and corruption kink]with San?? And if not cnc anything that comes from authority figures of him. Pls plssss ignore this if it’s makes you uncomfortable ❤️🍓" ~ queen I haven't written cnc corruption kink in my life. I hope I got the idea, even the slightest 😞.

pairing: san x fem!reader

genre: 18+

summary: san read your little journal.. and that ends with you screaming his name.

wc: 5.6k

warnings: dom!san, big dick!san, he eats her out, dirty talk, some cnc + corruption kink (he kinda softly makes her submit to it when he reads her diary + he doesn't care that she's a virgin and he actually encourages it even more so i guess it works? i'm so sorry i never wrote corruption kink before i promise i'll do better 😞💖), she's a virgin, neck holding and softly choking, marking all over, mamhandling, vaginal sex, he doesn't fuck he pounds, multiple orgasms, she screams out his name duh, some crumb of aftercare, cockwarming, unprotected (she's supposedly on bc but booo use protection!), unedited might edit later, for sure forgot something, completely consensual (after he makes her submit to him!)

Author's Note: woahhhh I haven't wrote in a while ngl. Felt good to be back.. sorry for not posting 😞. Life updates: Had 3 exams and I almost failed one but upsies it's maths 💀, had a bf for 3 days cause he acted weird and he said I'm his everything and that he loves me and that he can't be without me and I was like brotha ew we've been tgt for 3 days... and he got offended and unfollowed me everywhere 💀 boys these days... (i sound like a 70yo granma). Anyways I hope I'll post way more these days! There are only two exams to go, one this Friday and one this Saturday (for tutoring!) so I'll disappear again until Saturday night 🧍‍♀️ but I'll post on Sunday ! everyone cheer pls. Love youuuuuu allll

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and does not represent the reality of the member in any way.

The rich scent of steak still lingered in the air, mingling with the faint remnants of laughter and conversation from earlier in the evening. Your small apartment felt quieter now, with only the faint hum of the fridge and the occasional clink of San’s beer bottle against the counter breaking the silence.

The others had left hours ago, leaving just you and him—like it so often did. You couldn’t even remember how it had started, the unspoken rule that San always stuck around longer than anyone else, as if this place belonged to him as much as it did to you.

“You’re really not going to let those dishes wait until tomorrow, are you?” he asked, leaning against the kitchen counter with a smirk. The casual authority in his tone was infuriatingly familiar, yet somehow impossible to ignore.

You glanced at him over your shoulder, rolling your eyes as you stacked the last plate. “And let me guess—you’re going to stand there, drinking your beer, and not help.”

“Exactly.” His grin widened, infuriating and so utterly *him.* “I’ve got my role down. Yours is to overachieve and keep pretending you don’t have OCD about cleaning up after people.”

“I do not—” you started, only to cut yourself off with a sigh. There was no winning with San.

Instead, you gave him a look, grabbed the last of the plates, and disappeared down the hall toward the bathroom. “Try not to break anything while I’m gone,” you called back over your shoulder.

“Don’t worry,” he drawled. “I’ll keep myself entertained.”

San watched you go, waiting until the sound of the bathroom door clicking shut echoed faintly down the hallway. Then his attention drifted lazily around the room.

Your apartment was familiar in a way that made it feel like a second home—organized chaos, with books, mismatched blankets, and stray notebooks scattered across every available surface. It was the kind of place that felt lived-in, every corner a reflection of your mind: half-stressed, half-dreaming.

It was a notebook on the coffee table that caught his eye.

It wasn’t hidden, exactly. Half-tucked under a glossy magazine, its leather cover gleamed faintly in the low light. The word *Private* was written neatly across the front in a handwriting he’d recognize anywhere—yours.

A slow grin spread across his face. “Private, huh?” he murmured, setting his beer down and reaching for the notebook.

He flipped it open, expecting to find the usual: to-do lists, random doodles, or the same kind of perfectly planned schedules you’d been making since grade school. But instead, his eyes landed on something else.

*Sometimes I wonder what it would feel like to lose control completely. To have someone take charge and make me do things I’d never admit I want. Things I’d never say out loud...*

San froze, his grin fading as his eyes skimmed over the words. The meaning hit him slowly, like a low-burning flame that spread heat through his chest and settled somewhere.. lower.

*...to be pinned down, held in place, unable to fight back but not really wanting to. To have someone whisper filthy things in my ear and tell me how much they love seeing me fall apart under their control...*

He swallowed hard, his grip on the notebook tightening as he kept reading. The words painted vivid pictures in his mind—images he’d never dared associate with you before, no matter how many times his teasing had drifted close to the edge.

But this was different. This wasn’t teasing. This was your handwriting, your fantasies laid bare on the pages in front of him.

And the worst—or maybe the best—part? He couldn’t stop reading.

The sound of the bathroom door opening snapped him out of it. He quickly snapped the notebook shut, placing it back on the coffee table just as you stepped into the room.

When your eyes landed on him, standing far too close to the coffee table, your expression immediately shifted. Suspicion flickered across your face, followed by alarm as you spotted the notebook.

“No,” you breathed, your voice almost a whisper. “San... Tell me you didn’t.”

He arched a brow, leaning casually against the arm of the couch as if nothing had happened. “Didn’t what?”

Your stomach twisted. “You didn’t read that, did you?”

He shrugged, the corner of his mouth curving into a smirk. “You left it out in plain sight, sweetheart. Hard not to be curious.”

“San!” Your voice rose in a mix of panic and mortification as you rushed over, snatching the notebook off the table. You clutched it to your chest, your cheeks burning so hot you could feel the heat spreading to your neck.

He watched you with infuriating calm, his dark eyes gleaming with something you couldn’t quite name. “Relax,” he said, his tone deceptively soothing. “It’s not like I read the whole thing.”

Your heart sank. “What... what did you read?”

San pushed off the couch and stepped closer, closing the space between you with deliberate ease. He stopped just inches away, towering over you in that way that always made you feel small—and not entirely in a bad way.

“Enough to know you’ve got some... interesting thoughts rattling around in that head of yours,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “Care to explain?”

You shook your head, mortified. “No. Absolutely not. You shouldn’t have—”

“Shouldn’t have what?” he interrupted, his tone sharpening just slightly. “Picked it up? Read it? Or are you just embarrassed that I know now?”

You glared at him, though your resolve was already wavering. “This isn’t funny, San.”

His smirk faded, replaced by something darker, more serious. “Who said I’m joking?”

He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Maybe it’s time someone gave you what you’ve been asking for.”

The room felt too small, the air too thick. Your lips parted, but no sound came out. You couldn’t bring yourself to say the word, even though you knew you should.

San’s smirk returned, slow and deliberate.

“Mhm-” he murmured, his voice heavy with unspoken intent.

His gaze lingered on you, sharp and assessing, as if he could see through every feeble defense you were trying to put up. The notebook still clutched against your chest felt like a useless shield, doing nothing to block the heat of his presence or the weight of his words.

“Not going to tell me to stop?” he asked, the challenge clear in his tone. “Guess that means you don’t want me to.”

You swallowed hard, your heart hammering in your chest. “This is not funny, San,” you whispered, though even you could hear the lack of conviction in your voice.

“Funny? Not even a little.” He stepped closer, his eyes glinting with something darker. “But it is fascinating. You, scribbling all those dirty thoughts down like a good little secret-keeper, acting all innocent around me—who would’ve guessed?”

“Stop,” you said, the word trembling as it left your lips.

“Why?” His brow arched in amusement, though his voice remained low and intent. “Does it make you uncomfortable? Or is it hitting a little too close to home?”

Before you could answer—or even think of a response—he reached out, plucking the notebook from your hands with maddening ease.

“San!” you exclaimed, reaching for it, but he held it out of reach, his grin never faltering.

“Let’s see,” he said, flipping it open again as your heart dropped into your stomach. “Ah, here it is... *I want to be taken—rough, merciless, made to feel like I can’t get enough.*” He glanced at you, his smirk widening at the audible hitch in your breath. “Quite the vivid imagination you’ve got there, sweetheart.”

“Give it back!” you said, your voice cracking.

“Why?” He shifted the notebook to his other hand, holding it out of reach. “Are you scared because I know how badly you want this?”

Your knees felt weak as he stepped closer, invading your space with the kind of confidence that left you feeling unmoored.

“You’re such an ass,” you muttered, trying and failing to glare at him.

“Maybe,” he said with a shrug, his grin sharpening. “But at least I’m honest. You? Not so much.”

San’s free hand brushed against your jaw, his touch light but firm, sending a shiver down your spine.

“You’re blushing,” he observed, his voice teasing but softer. “Is it embarrassment? Ouu, is it.. something else?”

“San,” you said, his name coming out more like a plea than a protest.

“What?” he asked, tilting his head as his thumb traced along your jawline. “Can’t take the heat?”

You shook your head, but you didn’t pull away. You couldn’t.

He chuckled, low and satisfied. “Thought so.”

Without warning, his hand slid to the back of your neck, his grip firm as he pulled you closer. His other hand dropped the notebook onto the couch, freeing him to let his fingers trail down your arm, light enough to make you shiver.

“You know what I think?” he murmured, his voice dropping to a husky murmur.

You shook your head, your breath uneven.

“I think you’ve been waiting for someone to see past all that sweet, good-girl bullshit,” he continued, his thumb brushing along the line of your jaw, “and call you what you really are.”

Your heart slammed against your ribs, the words lodging in your throat. “San...”

His grip on your neck tightened slightly, enough to make you gasp. “What’s wrong? Don’t like hearing it? Or do you like it too much?”

The way your thighs pressed together didn’t escape his notice, and his grin sharpened.

“You’re easy to read,” he said softly, his voice thick with satisfaction. “You’ve been wanting this for a while, haven’t you?”

Your lips parted, a faint whimper escaping before you could stop it.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his fingers slipping lower to trace the curve of your waist. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Your breath hitched as his lips hovered near yours, the air between you crackling with tension. He didn’t kiss you, but the sheer proximity left you trembling.

“You can tell me to stop,” he said again, his voice rough but steady. “One word, sweetheart, and I’ll walk away.”

You opened your mouth, but the words wouldn’t come.

San’s grin returned, slower and more deliberate. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

His free hand skimmed the bare skin above your waistband, teasing and slow, and you felt your knees buckle slightly.

“You’ve been waiting for someone to push you,” he murmured, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, “to see how far you’ll let them go. Haven’t you?”

You couldn’t answer, your breath coming in shallow gasps.

San leaned back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes searching yours. “Say the word,” he said quietly. “And I’ll stop.”

Your silence said everything, and his lips curved into a smirk.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured, his voice low and full of promise.

His free hand skimmed the bare skin above your waistband, teasing and slow, and you felt your knees buckle slightly.

Before you could process his words, his hands were on you again—fast, firm, deliberate. His grip was steady as he lifted you effortlessly, as though you weighed nothing at all. A gasp escaped you, your hands instinctively clutching his shoulders, but the smirk never left his face.

“You wrote about this, didn’t you?” San teased, his voice dripping with amusement as he carried you across the room. “Right there in your little journal. I had no idea you had such... vivid thoughts.”

He dropped you on the bed. San stood at the edge of it, arms crossed, his dark eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and control. You were there, sprawled across the mattress, your chest heaving from the tension that hung heavy between you. The heat of your earlier argument still simmered in the air, but now the power had shifted entirely into his hands—and you both knew it.

“You’ve been quiet ever since,” San murmured, his voice low and mocking as he stepped closer, each movement slow and deliberate. “What’s the matter, sweetheart? Not so bold now that I know what’s been running through that pretty little head of yours?”

Your gaze darted away, heat creeping up your neck, but San wasn’t having it. He climbed onto the bed in one smooth motion, his weight sinking the mattress as he caged you beneath him. One hand pressed into the sheets beside your head, while the other traced the curve of your jaw, forcing you to look at him.

“Don’t even think about hiding from me now,” he said softly, the mockery in his tone laced with undeniable command. “Not after everything you wrote. Not after you left me to read between the lines of those fantasies you scribbled down so... shamelessly.”

Your breath hitched, and you pressed your thighs together instinctively, which only made his smirk widen.

“I have to admit,” he continued, leaning closer until his lips were brushing the shell of your ear, “I didn’t know you could be *this* filthy. Wanting to be manhandled? Thrown around? Tamed?” His breath was warm against your skin, his tone both teasing and heavy with promise. “Tell me, did you ever imagine I’d actually do it?”

“I-..” You shuddered beneath him, your fingers curling into the sheets as you struggled to form a response. But San was relentless, his hand trailing down to your throat, his grip firm but not restricting as he tilted your head up toward him.

“Don’t play dumb now,” he whispered, his gaze locking with yours. “You knew exactly what you were doing when you left that journal out. When you wrote about how badly you wanted someone to take control. To leave you breathless, shaking… *ruined.*”

You swallowed hard, the air between you thick with tension, and he chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through you.

“Admit it,” he murmured, his lips brushing your jawline, his hand still firm on your throat. “Admit that you’ve been waiting for me to push you like this. That you wanted me to see *every* word of it.”

“I—” your voice faltered, trembling under the weight of his intensity. “Mh..mhm” you were only able to mumble some word.

His fingers loosened just enough to stroke the column of your neck. “Good girl.”

He leaned back just slightly, enough to drink in the sight of you beneath him, flushed and trembling. His grin was wicked as he reached for your wrists, pinning them above your head with a grip that left no room for resistance.

“Now,” he murmured, lowering himself until his lips hovered mere inches from yours, “let’s see if you’re ready to live up to everything you wrote, sweetheart.”

Your head tilted back against the mattress, and the tension in the room thickened until it was nearly suffocating. The way San hovered above you, all sharp grins and teasing touches, had you trembling with anticipation. But as his words replayed in your mind, something inside you snapped.

“Fuck it,” you muttered, your voice shaky but certain. “You’ve already read it. You know exactly what I want.”

San’s brow arched, his smirk sharpening as he leaned in closer, his nose brushing yours. “Oh? And what’s that, sweetheart?”

You swallowed hard, your pulse hammering in your ears. “You. All of you. No teasing, no holding back.” Your voice softened, almost a whisper now. “Please.”

San let out a low chuckle, his dark gaze flickering with amusement and something darker—something primal. “You’re begging now?” he mused, his tone rich with satisfaction. “Didn’t think I’d get to hear that so soon.”

“I’m serious,” you said, your breath hitching as his thumb brushed your jawline. “No going back now. Just—just fuck me, San.”

His grin widened, and for a moment, he just stared at you, as though savoring the sight of you so vulnerable beneath him. Then, with deliberate ease, he sat back and tugged his shirt over his head in one swift motion, the fabric landing somewhere behind him.

You couldn’t help it; your eyes roamed over his toned chest, the sharp lines of muscle catching the dim light. Your breath caught, and he didn’t miss the way your eyes roamed.

“Like what you see?” he teased, his voice dripping with confidence as he reached for the hem of your shirt. He didn’t wait for an answer, peeling the fabric off your body just as effortlessly. His gaze swept over you, slow and deliberate, and you shivered under the intensity of it.

“Perfect,” he murmured, almost to himself, before his hands moved to your waistband. His fingers made quick work of the button and zipper, sliding your pants down your legs with maddening precision.

But then he stopped.

Stepping back, he straightened to his full height, his hands already moving to unbuckle his own belt. The metallic clink of it sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn’t tear your eyes away as he worked.

He was slow—so agonizingly slow—pulling the leather free and tossing it aside before unbuttoning his pants. The sharp sound of his zipper being undone felt deafening in the charged silence, and the deliberate pace had your heart racing.

“Enjoying the show?” he asked, his voice smug as he slid the denim down his hips, revealing inch after inch of skin.

You didn’t answer, too captivated by the sight of him to form a coherent thought. Your gaze locked onto him, your chest rising and falling with shallow breaths, and you could feel the heat pooling low in your stomach as desire overtook every part of you.

“Thought so,” he murmured, stepping closer, his smirk never fading. “You just can’t get enough, can you?”

You shook your head, your lips parting slightly as you stared up at him with nothing but raw, unfiltered lust. “Not even close.”

His laugh was deep, rumbling, and utterly intoxicating. “Good,” he said simply, lowering himself back onto the bed, his body hovering over yours. “Because I’m just getting started.”

San crawled over you with the precision of a predator closing in on its prey, his movements slow and deliberate, his gaze locked onto yours. His weight pressed into the mattress, pinning you in place as he leaned in, his lips hovering over yours, teasing but not yet giving.

One of his hands wrapped firmly around your neck, the pressure just enough to remind you who was in control. The way his thumb brushed against the side of your throat made your breath hitch, a soft gasp escaping you as your body instinctively arched toward him.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. “Already falling apart, and I haven’t even kissed you yet.”

His other hand was down around his cock, his movements slow, lazy, and unhurried as he stroked himself. The subtle motion made your mouth go dry, your gaze flickering downward for a split second before snapping back up to meet his. The heat in his eyes was unbearable, and yet you couldn’t look away, couldn’t stop the way your body responded to the tension crackling between you.

San smirked at your reaction, his thumb pressing slightly harder against your neck as he brought his lips closer, brushing them lightly against yours. It wasn’t a kiss—not really—but the sensation was enough to send a jolt of electricity straight through you.

Then, just as you started to lean up, desperate for more, the hand from his cock moved. Slowly, almost torturously, he trailed it from himself to your thigh. His fingers brushed against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine, before he hooked his hand under your leg and spread it out beneath him.

“Perfect,” he murmured, his voice a low rasp as his palm pressed against the inside of your knee, holding you open with deliberate ease. “Just like I imagined.”

You swallowed hard, your breath catching as he leaned in closer, his lips finally crashing against yours. The kiss was searing, hungry, and consuming, his hand still firm on your throat as he claimed you completely. Your mind was spinning, your body surrendering to the heat of him, to the way he dominated every inch of your senses.

His grip on your neck tightened slightly, grounding you as his thumb brushed along the curve of your jaw. The other hand remained on your leg, his thumb stroking lazy circles on your skin as he shifted his weight, pressing himself closer.

“You’re mine now,” he muttered against your lips, his voice rough and commanding. “No running, no hiding. I’m going to make sure you don’t forget it.”

Your only response was a soft whimper, your hands reaching for him, desperate to pull him closer. And San, ever the tease, chuckled low in his throat, his lips moving to your jaw as he whispered, “Good girl.”

As San’s lips devoured yours, leaving you breathless and pliant beneath him, a quiet confession slipped out before you could stop it.

“I’ve never done this before,” you whispered, your voice trembling and almost lost in the heat of the moment.

San stilled for just a second, his head tilting slightly as he looked down at you, processing your words. The smirk that crept onto his lips was slow and deliberate, a mix of surprise and amusement lighting up his dark eyes.

“You’re a virgin?” he asked, his tone low, curious, and laced with disbelief. “After everything you wrote in that journal?”

Your cheeks burned, and you couldn’t meet his gaze, but you nodded, swallowing hard. “I... I just—”

He didn’t let you finish. His grip on your neck remained firm as his free hand slid up your thigh again, spreading you out even further beneath him. “So what?” he murmured, leaning in close, his breath warm against your ear. “You think that changes anything?”

Your heart pounded as his lips brushed against the shell of your ear, his voice taking on a deeper, more commanding edge. “You want this, don’t you?”

You nodded quickly, unable to form words, and his smirk deepened.

“Good,” he said softly, almost mockingly. “Then I’ll make sure your first time is something you’ll *never* forget.”

He didn’t wait for a reply. His lips crashed against yours again, hungry and consuming, stealing the breath from your lungs. His kisses grew rougher, more possessive, as though he was claiming you in every sense of the word.

When he finally pulled away, your chest was heaving, your lips swollen, and he wasted no time. His mouth trailed down the curve of your jaw, leaving open-mouthed kisses that turned into light nips. His tongue soothed each bite, sending shivers down your spine as he moved lower, down the column of your throat.

“You’re mine now,” he murmured against your skin, his voice dark and dripping with authority. “You understand that, don’t you?”

“Y-yes,” you whispered, your voice trembling with both nervousness and desire.

His kisses continued, his teeth grazing over the soft curve of your collarbone before he bit down gently, just enough to make you gasp. The sharpness of it sent a jolt through your body, and you arched into him, your hands clutching at his shoulders.

“Such a good girl,” he muttered, the praise making your stomach flip as he moved lower. His lips and teeth marked a path down your body, every kiss, every bite leaving a faint bloom of heat behind. He was methodical, deliberate, as though he wanted to cover every inch of your skin.

When he reached your hips, his hands gripped your thighs, spreading them further apart as he settled himself between them. His lips ghosted over the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, his breath warm and teasing.

“Right here,” he murmured, his voice dark with promise as his fingers gripped your leg firmly, keeping you pinned in place. “This is where you’re going to feel me the most. Where I’m going to leave my mark.”

You gasped softly, and before you could respond, his teeth sank into the tender skin of your inner thigh, hard enough to sting but not enough to hurt. The sensation was intoxicating, his tongue soothing the bite immediately after, and the combination left you trembling beneath him.

San pulled back slightly, his lips curving into a satisfied smirk as he looked up at you. “You’re already shaking,” he teased, his hands gripping your hips to hold you steady. “You’re going to fall apart for me, sweetheart. And you’re going to love every second of it.”

Your hands instinctively found their way to his hair, your fingers tangling in the soft strands as he hovered over your inner thighs, his breath ghosting over the sensitive skin. The way he teased you—his lips brushing so close but never where you wanted them—had your body trembling with anticipation.

San chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your skin as he tilted his head up to look at you. His smirk was infuriatingly smug, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement.

“Impatient, huh?” he drawled, his voice low and teasing as he gave your thigh a gentle squeeze. “Can’t wait to have me, can you?”

You whimpered softly, your grip on his hair tightening just enough to pull a satisfied laugh from him.

“Alright, sweetheart,” he murmured, his tone darkening as he settled himself between your legs. “I won’t make you wait any longer. Let’s see how loud I can make you.”

And with that, he dove in.

His lips pressed against your clit, hot and unrelenting, and a sharp gasp escaped your lips as your back arched off the mattress. The first touch of his tongue was slow and deliberate, a languid stroke that left you breathless.

San wasted no time after that, his mouth working against it with a precision that had your head spinning. His hands gripped your thighs, keeping you pinned in place as he devoured you, his tongue flicking and swirling in ways that sent shivers racing down your spine.

“You taste so good,” he murmured against you, his voice muffled but still thick with satisfaction. “Even better than I imagined.”

You couldn’t respond—not with the way he was overwhelming your senses, reducing you to gasps and whimpers as he found every sensitive spot. Your hands tightened in his hair, and he groaned at the pressure, the vibrations only adding to the fire building inside you.

San pulled back just enough to press a kiss against your inner thigh, his lips swollen and glistening. “Don’t hold back,” he murmured, his voice rough and commanding. “I want to hear everything. Every moan, every gasp—let me hear how much you need me.”

And then he was back, his mouth and tongue relentless as he brought you closer and closer to the edge, his grip on your thighs tightening as your body started to tremble beneath him. You couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but surrender completely to the way he consumed you, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.

Your body trembled beneath him, the overwhelming waves of pleasure crashing through you as you cried out his name, your hands still tangled in his hair. San didn’t stop until your body went slack against the mattress, leaving you breathless, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath.

But he wasn’t done—not even close.

“Look at you,” he murmured, pulling back just enough to survey the sight of you sprawled beneath him, still shaking from the aftermath. His voice was low, rough, and dripping with satisfaction. “So pretty when you fall apart for me.”

Before you could respond, San moved with the kind of precision that left no room for resistance. His hands gripped your hips firmly, flipping you over onto your stomach in one fluid motion. A startled gasp escaped you, but it was quickly muffled as he pressed your face into the mattress, one hand splayed across the back of your neck, holding you in place.

“Don’t think we’re done yet,” he growled, his voice dark and commanding as he leaned over you. The heat of his bare chest against your back sent shivers down your spine, and you felt him press his hips into you, letting you feel just how ready he was.

Your heart raced as his free hand slid down your side, gripping your waist possessively. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “I hope you’re ready, sweetheart, because I’m not holding back… at all.”

His teeth grazed your earlobe, and you whimpered softly, your body arching instinctively beneath him. His voice dropped lower, the words sending a thrill through you as he murmured, “You’re mine now. Every inch of you. And I’m going to make sure you *feel* it.”

The blunt heat of him pressed against your cunt, and before you could even brace yourself, he pushed into you in one smooth, unrelenting motion. The stretch burned, but the pleasure quickly overwhelmed it, and you cried out, muffled against the mattress as he filled you completely.

San groaned low in his throat, his fingers digging into your hips as he pulled back slightly, only to slam back in with a force that made your entire body jolt. “Perfect,” he muttered, his voice rough and thick with lust as he set a relentless pace. “You feel even better than I imagined.”

The sound of skin against skin filled the room, each thrust drawing gasps and moans from you that only seemed to spur him on. He leaned over you, pressing his chest to your back as he buried himself deeper, his lips brushing against your ear.

“Take it,” he growled, his voice dripping with authority. “Every. Fucking. Inch.”

Your head spun, your senses overwhelmed by the rough, unyielding way he moved against you. His hand slid from your hip to your throat, pulling you up slightly so he could press his lips to your shoulder, his teeth sinking into your skin to leave yet another mark.

“You’re mine,” he muttered again, his voice ragged as his thrusts grew even harder, each one sending shockwaves through your body. “Say it. Say you’re mine.”

“I-I'm yours..! ,” you gasped, your voice trembling as you clung to the sheets, completely lost in him.

“Good girl.. or should I say..” he murmured, his grip tightening as he drove you both closer and closer to the edge, his pace never faltering, never giving you a moment to catch your breath, “good slut?”.

His words made your cunt tighten around him, a grunt escaping his throat.

San’s pace didn’t let up for a moment, his grip firm on your waist as he powerfully ounded into you, every thrust driving you closer to another earth-shattering release. Your body trembled beneath him, overwhelmed by the intensity of it all, and he could feel the way you tightened around him, your breaths coming in ragged gasps.

“That’s it,” he growled against your ear, his voice rough and commanding as he reached one hand between your legs, his fingers finding the spot that made you jolt… your swollen clit. “Give me one more, sweetheart. Come for me again. Let me feel you.”

The combination of his relentless thrusts and the way his fingers worked you had you teetering on the edge in seconds. Your cries grew louder, the tension coiling in your stomach until it finally snapped, a powerful wave of pleasure crashing through you as you screamed his name.

“San!” you sobbed, your body shaking violently as your orgasm ripped through you, leaving you breathless and trembling beneath him.

He groaned low in his throat, his thrusts growing erratic as he chased his own. “That’s my girl,” he muttered, his grip tightening as he buried himself deep inside you, his hips stuttering as he reached his peak.

A guttural moan escaped his lips as he spilled into you, the warmth of his cum filling you completely. He didn’t pull out right away, instead leaning over you, his chest pressing against your back as he kissed your shoulder, his breath hot and uneven.

“You’re incredible,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your damp skin. “You took me so well, sweetheart. Screaming my name like that... you’re so fucking perfect.”

You whimpered softly, still trembling from the aftershocks, and he smirked, his voice dropping to a darker, dirtier tone. “Bet you loved having me ruin you like this. Didn’t you, baby? All that talk about wanting to be manhandled—looks like you got exactly what you wanted.”

Before you could respond, his hand slid to your neck, gripping you firmly as he pulled you upright, your back pressing against his chest. The move made you gasp, your head falling back against his shoulder as he tilted your chin up to meet his gaze, his cock still deep inside you.

“That’s what you get for leaving your little journal unattended,” he growled, his smirk sharp and satisfied as he stared into your eyes. “I bet you loved every fucking second of it. Didn’t you?”

Your lips trembled, but you managed a breathless, “Y-yes… y-es I did..”

San’s grin widened, and he leaned in to press a lingering kiss to your temple, his grip on your neck softening as his free hand wrapped around your waist, pulling you close. “Good girl,” he murmured, his voice softer now but still carrying that edge of dominance.

He held you there for a moment, his arms wrapped tightly around you, his breath warm against your ear. “You’re mine,” he whispered, his tone gentler now, though no less possessive. “Every inch of you.”

Your hands came up to rest over his, your body leaning into his embrace as you whispered, “Always yours.”

San let out a satisfied hum, holding you close as the heat of the moment began to fade, replaced by a warmth that felt just as overwhelming. “That’s my girl,” he said softly, his lips pressing against your hair as he held you, his arms never loosening.

NETWORKS:

@blossomnet

@illusionnet

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

[hivemuthur]

If it’s okay to request, may I request hcs or something with Viktor where he’s dating an autisc reader?

Okay, first of - I have no idea what I have done to be granted such trust, thank you so much Anon! I have been provided amazing advice from @rennethen while writing this and done some research and I hope, I hope, I hope it meets expectations.

ViktorXAutistic!Reader HeadCannons

viktorxgn!reader mature, fluff and again: Viktor setting impossible standards for real-life men

author’s note: I have decided to not include tics, as they come in so many variations and I didn't want to impose anything upon Readers, but I can imagine Viktor being a total sweetheart about them.

word count: 1,4K

—

Since your first meeting, Viktor has been smitten with your bluntness and your ability to take his acrimonious jokes apart without a hint of incredulity in your voice. The way you keep asking subsidiary questions until you dig through the layers of his sass to the actual thing he meant to say  leaves his soul naked as day, every single time. Finally, an inquisitive mind, he thinks to himself, as you go for the killing blow:

“So, what you’ve meant to say is that you find me attractive?”

“Eh, I suppose that is what I meant,” he admits dumbly, scratching the back of his neck. “Though usually I tend to be a little bit less straight forward.”

“I prefer straight forward,” you tell him with wide eyes.

“I… I shall remember that.”

Viktor soon realises that being asked a lot of questions makes him blush in a funny way and his chest gets all fuzzy. So, he begins to share every little aspect of his work with you. The more questions you ask, the warmer his heart gets and somehow the way you get excited about his ideas is worth more than any other academical pat on the back he ever received.

Before asking you out for the first time, Viktor conducts a thorough research, not very different to the ones he conducts for the sake of a thesis. He finds out what are your favourite places and favourite spots to sit. He books two reservations, just in case.

He does the same thing when you try out a new place. Just in case. It has proven useful only once.

As a man who values routine, he finds it absolutely endearing that good things remain in your orbit for a long time and discovers that being greeted with his own name by the barista is actually a nice little feeling.

When he asked you if he could kiss you for the first time, he held his breath while you were reconsidering. He found it hard not to laugh stupidly and nod his head a couple times too many when you responded with the same question.

He cupped your face and brushed his thumb on your lip tentatively. At first, he just rubbed his nose against yours. Then, his cheek, as he pulled you closer. You decided his hair smelled nice and that he could proceed. You didn’t know what to do with your hands at first, because he was wearing an incredibly itchy jumper, so you settled on his neck, and he took it as an invitation to kiss you deeper.

When you told him about it he gave the jumper to Caitlyn, and even though the sleeves are not long enough for her, she wears it often. Gradually, Viktor is in the process of exchanging his wardrobe to touch-friendly materials, currently he is half-way through. He wears the offensive clothes to meetings with Jayce, because Jayce will hug even a hedgehog.

You teach Viktor the value of comfort, not just in the clothing department. Suddenly he finds that his blankets are softer and that his flat increased the base number of cushions.

He religiously cuts the tags out of your clothes and his work is so precise it’s as if the tag was never there in the first place.

Viktor will still periodically ask for a permission to touch you, only to hear “Yes, please.” And it still makes him blush.

He keeps two notebooks—one on your current food fixations. He writes down a start date of each and marks every little alteration. He examines the lifecycle of each dish, as you eat it every day for a month and suddenly stop, to move on to the next one. On the back of the notebook he has a list of old reliables.

The second notebook, he treats more seriously—it’s a journal of stimming. He makes a note of each gesture in order to recognize your emotions better. After a while he is able to tell if you are feeling overwhelmed, just excited or trying to concentrate.

He is completely bemused by the fact that you always know what entered the bowl first—the cereal or the milk.

When you unconsciously repeat words back at him in his accent he makes it intentionally heavier, because he finds in unbearably cute.

After some time, he’s learned to recognise when you are masking. When it happened for the first time, he allowed himself a pinch of panic. Only when you unravelled at home, he sighed, partially relieved, and made a note of it in his journal.

Viktor carries a pair of noise cancelling headphones when you go out together. He puts them on you if you get overstimulated and presents you with something else to shift your focus into—a tight hug, a smell or he presses gently on your shoulders to steady you.

If you happen to have a meltdown at either of your homes, he wordlessly prepares you your favourite food and stays close enough for you to reach. Sometimes, he does a full body scan with you, to see which part requires the most attention.

There are certain sounds that Viktor makes which you particularly like—the click of his tongue, the intercepting ‘ehs’ and ‘ahs’—and once he connects the dots between him making those and a smile that always blooms on your face, he produces as many as he can, while still sounding natural.

He enjoys just existing with you. Sitting in the same room, while he works, and you read is his definition of a happy place. Just glancing over to you, your tongue filling your cheek as you read something particularly interesting, the small sounds you make at turning points in the story make his heart flutter.

He finds himself involuntarily memorizing the lyrics of the songs you play on repeat. He has no idea who the artist are, but he knows their songs by heart now. It makes him feel old, in a funny way.

It completely disarms him, when you return his gifts. After three futile attempts to give you something of popular romantic demand, he scolded himself for not changing the method soon enough. Instead of jewellery, he encourages your special interests, through getting you books on the topics or taking you places that embody your passions.

On the other side of the coin, your gifts are deeply appreciated. Every little pebbling trinket has it’s special place in the box on his desk. He takes them out periodically and counts how many times a tiny detail in the chaos of the outside world has made you think of him.

For dates, Viktor chooses times and days in which the world is less crowded. Instead of a busy Saturday night, you go out in the middle of the week. After a particularly failed attempt of gifting you perfume, Viktor takes you to a balm perfume workshop, where you can make scents for each other that are buildable and unoffensive to sensitive skin.

He’s built an intimacy with you that is based on trust and constant checking. He takes care of the mood and gives you enough stops to reconsider on the way.

You both talk a lot during sex. A change of mind is natural and there is enough space made for it. He has learned a lot about himself, and his self-esteem strengthened, when he realised that, ‘I don’t like it,’ doesn’t mean ‘I don’t like you.’

If, for whatever reason, the communication turns nonverbal, you both have come up with a system of pats that signals where each of you should direct your attention.

Your inquisitive mind helped him find three additional positions, in which he feels comfortable and painless, and it eludes him entirely how he could have missed them.

Viktor’s favourite part of aftercare is cuddling you naked. He adores the way your warm body melts into his. If you add head scratches to it, he will fall asleep in your arms. He breaths in the smell of your hair and his heart beat evens out with yours.

[rebouks]

Previous // Next

Alex: EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! [wheeeeeeze] Byrd: Woah, lady-.. I know karate! Wren: No, you don’t. Byrd: [whispers] She doesn’t need to know that. Wren: It’s Alex, dipshit. Byrd: Ohhh-.. wait, really? Wren: Sure looks like her.

Alex: Oh my god, I found you-.. and I followed your CAT! I missed you so much!! I hope you’re not mad at me-.. I’m so SO sorry for not writing! I thought I was being organised by printing some labels out to save time, y’know? But then I forgot them at home when we went to my uncles and dad said we’d only be gone for a month, so I figured it wasn’t a huge deal, but then we stayed for what felt like it’d be FOREVER and I couldn’t for the life of me remember your address which is ridiculous ‘cause I SHOULD’VE had it memorised by now and I felt so awful as the months passed. I tried to remember it a couple times but you never wrote back so I figured I obviously got it wrong-.. then I tried finding your house on a stupid online map but the internet was crappy at best and the Bay is WAY bigger than I thought it’d be and I’ve never really seen your house in full view from the street either so, like.. I barely knew what I was looking for, and what if that camera car didn’t even map your house, y’know?!

Ava: That was.. a lot. Alex: Sorry-.. you’re not mad, are you? [Robin shook his head and took a breath, but nothing came out] Wren: Oop. Byrd: Yeah, I think he broke. Ava: Ooh, do you know sign language? Alex: No-.. I totally should’ve learnt! I guess I didn’t know I’d be coming here though… Byrd: I can teach you! Well, some, I’m still learning, but Robin knows a bunch. Ava: He’s not mad, by the way. He was just worried. [Robin shot his younger siblings a look, fruitlessly warning them not to embarrass him] Byrd: I’m sure he’d say hi, if he could. Wren: I bet he’d say you look pretty too. Byrd: He’s been extra mopey without your letters-.. or maybe that’s just what puberty does. Ava: He has to wear deodorant now, otherwise he STINKS! Wren: You should stay for supper, dad’s baking something.. again. Alex: Ough.. I was supposed to be home ages ago, dad’ll kill me.. wait, what school do you go to?! Byrd: Bay C-… Wren: Not us-.. he goes to Copperdale. Alex: Ohh, yay! I promised dad I’d finally unpack tomorrow but the day after that is Monday, right? Wren: Well done. Alex: Okay-.. ahhhh! SEE YOU AT SCHOOL!!

…

[Robin deflated as soon as Alex liberated him from another bear hug and sped off, releasing a breath he’d kept tucked beneath his ribs for an uncomfortably lengthy amount of time] Robin: Ouuuuuuuuuuuuugh. Robin: Why-.. why am I like this? Wren: You’ll spew something out eventually. Oscar: Alright losers, pie’s-.. what’s up with him? Robin: I’m fucking BROKEN. Wren: I mean.. you’re a little fucked, but still good! Oscar: Quit it with the swearing-.. what happened? Wren: Alex showed up n’ he broke. Robin: I didn’t even get to say hi or ask why she’s here, or for how long-.. and you just had to be embarrassing! Oscar: What’d she say? Robin: She said Alex was pretty on my behalf and I’ve never said that and she’s a DICK! Oscar: That’s tame-.. for Wren. Robin: I hate you all right now. Wren: Not as much as you hate yourself. Oscar: Hey, too much! Robin, c’mon-… Robin: SHUT UP! Oscar: Right, you’re on dish duty. Wren: Seriously?! Oscar: You reap what you sow, honey.

[mimiiiiiiiiisstuff]

Hi! I'm new to your account, but just binged your "I bet on losing dogs" storyline, and I had a question and concept for you? How much is the reader free to interpret? I'm a theater kid, so I like her hobbies. But is there any specific physical traits you're writing for her? I know you mentioned that we were/are chubby, which is cool, but do you imagine any certain features? Because I'm Mexican American with certain features, so I was curious if you had a certain ethnicity set for her besides being half White/Jewish from Bruce being her biological father.

I also had the same question about Tiffany, because I'm currently imagining the Stereotypical All American girl. Kinda got that Disney Channel actress vibe to her. (Physically). I also had this really messed up though of the reader having to spend YEARS trying to keep in touch her mother's culture and such, learning dishes, traditions, going to local festivals by herself, having to learn how to do makeup and hair styles/products that fit her face and hair pattern. No one bothered to help or teach her. But than, suddenly Tiffany starts to steal those "habits", uncaring if they were very personal to the reader. Than everyone in the family suddenly starts to like the Reader's culture and such. (I had this scene in my brain where the Reader walks in on Tiffany is bragging about some music or dish "she" tried out from the Reader's culture, while the family are all happy and curious about it. Even when the Reader tried to introduce it to the family, everyone declined even trying it.)

I see the Reader so "Your Best American Girl" coded by Mitski.

Anyway I just wanted to ramble, bye!

ok so, I'm trying to be as vague as possible bc reader is supposed to be whoever is reading so there's no in depth description or specific height or build (except chubby in the prologue). i feel like i've basically made reader an OC which i hate but personally when I'm reading a fic, I just ignore things if I don't like them or they don't apply to me which is what i suggest yall do!!

the reader's mother is Palestinian/ Venezualan, like my own mom but you can change it if you'd like. it's important to mention that reader does have Bruce's jaw structure and face shape and shares facial features with Damian as well. It's small things like the ears, the roman nose, even the eye shape, point is that every time reader looks in the mirror she can see shadows of Bruce and Damian on her face. it's kinda like the vibe of "like him" by tyler the creator. I'm middle eastern and hispanic so I imagine reader with darker feautures like tan skin, thick brown hair, arched brows and long lashes but it's all up to you!

reader is very confused because while her dad is white, she isn't. she did try to bond with Damian and learn Arabic with him but he shamed her for not knowing and kicked her out his room, literally. she used to be embarrassed of her heritage when she was younger (courtsey of Tiffany calling her a mutt) but as she got older she realized how interesting her culture is.

she wants to learn arabic but has no teachers and it's a pretty hard language to learn if you don't grow up speaking it .she has no sources to help her and most of the time culture and traditions are things you grow up with and are passed down to you from family. her mom used to speak to her in arabic and feed her dates and sandwiches with olive oil and sugar and make her fried plantians so those things are very special to her, they're some of the only details she remembers about her late mother. so yeah reader is very "Your best american girl coded"

You're so on point about Tiffany, she's your classic all American girl. Blonde hair, blue eyes, long tanned legs and a set of pearly whites. she's the kind of white girl to act like she cares about other races but is secretly racist. you know what girls im talking about! and that prompt you sent with the food eats so hard, I have a scene mapped out with that in the upcoming chapters. I rambled too girl!!! you really got me thinking tbh but let me stop and actually write the next chapter.

[luveline]

Missing my zombie!steve husband 🫶🏻

quiet day at the camp… hope something bad isn’t brewing… zombie apocalypse au <3 fem, 2k

Steve loves the sound of the river, but he only allows himself a moment to lay down on the riverbank during laundry hours. 

You stand knee deep in the water with your pants and sleeves rolled up, the corrugated metal of an old shed roof that’s been repurposed into a washing board held to your chest. It was pointless to roll your sleeves up, you’re soaked to the bone, even your hair, but the summer sun keeps you warm. 

“Don’t get too hot!” you call. 

“I’m fine,” he says, unwilling to shout. 

“He’s fine!” Robin shouts from beside him. “Numbskull.” 

Steve stares at you, locking you in, so to speak, the nice shape of your hip and stomach, the mess of your wet hair. Tonight, he’ll help you fix it, but there’s no rush and no hurry to dry off while the sun is out, and the fences are up. He turns onto his stomach. Grass tickles his cheeks. 

“You sure you’re okay?” Robin asks quietly. 

“Fine. Can you tell me if she needs help?” 

“Sure.” He listens to the sounds of her moving, likely pulling the slim lengths of her legs against her chest to hug herself, the tan leaves of a book spread out just in front of her. 

Steve could really go for a cigarette. You swapped the last box you found for toothpaste, isn’t that how it always goes? You and Robin found a cheat code in the apocalypse, nicotine with a capital ‘N’. You swap Arctic chewable for socks without holes and boxes of Marlboro’s for the bathroom essentials. Everybody wants them, and you’re great at finding them. Steve never thought he’d crave a cigarette again considering he wasn’t addicted, having smoked for a couple of months in high school to feel cool with his friends, stopping when his mom asked him to. He doesn’t remember why. She’d asked, and he’d listened, as he used to do. Swim team, cross country, basketball, lifeguard training, mowing the lawn, not upsetting his father, taking out the trash, vacuuming, no drinking and driving; task after task after task. Some of it was easy. He liked doing the dishes, and he loved taking care of his mom even if she didn’t feel the same. 

Not that it matters now. Does it matter now? He’s never gonna see her again. She’s a memory. She’s a bad memory, most of the time. 

The more he reflects on it, he decides. She was a bit shitty, but she’s his mom, and she’s likely gone, so he’ll try to remember the cookies they made together and the way she’d smile at him after she tied his shoelaces before school. And also the mean fucking bitch she’d turn into when she drank two glasses of wine. 

“What are you thinking about?” Robin asks.

“That’s the wrong soap,” you say from the river. Your voice floats over the breeze. 

“Fuck off, soap is soap,” Eddie says, your not-so-new friend, Steve’s sworn enemy. 

“I’m just saying,” you laugh. “Look, I’ll wash, you rinse.” 

“I’m thinking about that time,” Steve begins, holding his hand out toward her, open but not expectant, “when my mom and dad came home early from his business trip in Missouri and found us sleeping together.” 

“I’d never heard your dad laugh before,” Robin says. 

“My mom really didn’t like you after that.” He smiles as she takes his hand. They were a lot more touchy, pre-apocalypse. He misses that sometimes. 

“I don’t even think she thought we were dating.” 

“She was disgusted.” 

“She said we were being weird teenagers.”

“I guess we were. I never had a friend like you before so maybe I can’t blame her,” he says. He has something special with you, you’re a best friend because you’re half of his heart, but Robin was his first proper best friend, and remains it. “I missed you a lot when we were stuck in Indiana. There were a ton of times where shit would go wrong and I would get mad at you because I knew you’d know how to fix it, but you weren’t there.” 

“You’d get mad at me?” Robin asks, squeezing his hand. “You jerk. Be mad at yourself.” 

“Can you wait for me next time?” he asks.

Robin’s quiet, then she laughs, “I’m nodding but you can’t see.” 

He wonders how she’s feeling. He admits to not doing that much in the past. Not that he didn’t think about how he made others feel, he was always worrying about that after Nancy, but he can’t say he thought of it in the moment. Steve forces himself to sit up and offer his arms for a hug, which Robin gladly accepts, her frazzled laugh on his neck as he pats her back. 

“Are you okay?” she asks. 

“You know Y/N says I’m possessive?” 

Robin leans away, fingers curled around his elbow. “You’re fighting?” 

“No, just. She says I’m possessive, that I get mad about, you know, my people.” 

“Right. Isn’t everybody?” 

“I never thought I did. I’m not, like, too proud most of the time.” 

“Steve, this is super introspective,” she says, frowning, smiling, a weird expression somewhere melding in the middle of happy and concerned. “Are you sure you’re okay? It’s fine if you’re not.” She laughs shrilly. “I woke up the other day and cried and then ten minutes later I felt fine. I’m far from okay.” 

Steve glances past Robin’s head to watch you in the river. You’re sitting down amongst the stones. It really isn’t too deep, water to your ribcage washing suds down to Munson, who’s smiling at you kindly, not smarmy or flirting, just smiling. 

“Why did you cry?” he asks quietly. 

“I missed my cousin, I think.” 

Steve curls his arm behind her head and encourages her in for a fiercer hug. 

“Think we should probably go help them,” she mumbles. 

He takes it for the brush off that it is; sincerity is too much to take, sometimes. If she wants to be evasive about it that’s okay, she already took the leap and admitted to getting upset. 

“I cried thinking about Y/N’s hands the other day,” he says. 

“Steve.” Robin rubs her eye with the heel of her hand. “I don’t even know what to tell you.” 

“What? I’m trying to show you I’m pathetic so you don’t feel bad.” 

“I know you’re pathetic, and I don’t feel bad.” She climbs off of the ground and brushes broken grass off of her legs. Steve climbs up next to her, nudging her with his elbow. “You’re mucho pathetic. It’s kind of crazy.” 

“I think I might try and drown him,” he says conversationally. 

“Why now?” 

“Why do you think?” Steve asks, toeing off his shoes and peeling off his socks, nearly pitching forward on the wet bank closer to the river.

You and Eddie look up as they approach from different spots of the water. Your smile at seeing him winds him for the thousandth time, just so happy to see him, so in love with you he doesn’t even know what to do for a few seconds. “Hey, honey,” he says, “can I help?” 

“Now you wanna help?” you ask, gesturing to your soaked front. 

You’re messing with him, and he doesn’t care anyways, you can talk to him like crap if you want to. He shuffles down from the mud of the riverbank and into the water, cold and wet like a shock against his ankles, softer as it climbs to his knees. You’re sitting where it’s more shallow, opposed to Eddie on his knees and almost drowning further down. He puts his hand on your wet shoulder and kneels down in the water beside you. “Wanna hug?” you tease. 

Steve hugs you. Doesn’t care that you’re soaking or that the water is freezing against his crown jewels, though he shivers by your ear, prompting your laugh like bubbles in his own. “It’s cold,” he says. 

“Freezing!” 

Not to be a freak, but he can feel your chest pressed to him, and he knows you get achy in the cold. He wraps his arms doubly behind your back and rubs at your sides. “How much laundry’s left?” he asks. “We’re gonna get hypothermia. Again.” 

“You didn’t get hypothermia,” you remind him, folding into his space. “Steve… is everything okay?” 

“Do I look mopey today? Robin just asked me the same thing.” 

“You don’t look mopey, but you’re being touchy. You’re cuddling.” 

“How am I not supposed to cuddle you, dummy? I’m keeping you warm enough to function right now. Without me you’d be an ice cube floating down the river.” He leans back to hold your face in one hand, your cheek under his thumb, water racing down his wrists and your neck. 

You push against his hand gently with your cheek. 

“Sorry,” he says. 

“What for?” 

For lots of things. “I didn’t realise how cold the water was. I would’ve come to help you.” 

“It’s fine. I scrub everything and then Eddie catches it. We’ve only lost one pair of underwear,” you say. “The river’s like a long washing machine.” 

“How much do you have left?” he asks. 

“Nothing. I was just about to get out.” 

“Couldn’t have told me that before I came to get you?” 

“No,” you say, lifting your chin. Not challenging, but close. It’s an offer, Steve decides, kiss me or don’t kiss me. You don’t seem to realise he doesn’t decide, he needs you. If you always wanted to kiss him, you’d always be kissing, all the time, everywhere. 

Steve gives you a quick peck. “Come on, let’s go set up the line.” 

You somehow, together, make your way back to the tents without freezing to death after throwing your clothes on a drying line between trees. It’s warm enough that stripping down to your skivvies is mildly pleasant (away from the eyes of the other campers). You get dressed in the softest clothes you own upon Steve’s insistence, sweatpants and a dark hoodie, three pairs of socks and the tent door left open, before he lays you down on the sleeping bag, and settles between your legs, his full weight bearing down on you, his face nestled in the damp crook of your neck. 

“I couldn’t kiss you the right way,” he confesses. 

“Why?” You pull mildly at the ends of his hair. 

“‘Cos I always want more than one kiss.” 

“That’s a strangely romantic way to say you wanted to make out with me,” you whisper. 

“It’s not like that,” he insists, even though he does want to, and he did in the river, and he does all the time.

“You’re getting kinda heavy, Steve,” you mumble. 

“What?” 

“It’s a good thing.” 

“How dare you.” 

“We got sorta frail for a bit.” You wrap an arm around his head, tip of your nose to his forehead. 

“Yeah. Lucky we’re in camp Eddie now,” Steve says. 

“I never thought I’d hear you say that,” you murmur, so close to sleeping Steve can tell. You just need a feeling of security to nudge you over the edge. 

“Lucky we’re together.” He climbs off of you slowly so as not to rouse you too much, kissing your slack cheek as he settles on your shoulder. “You and me. I don’t care where we are.”

He ends up falling asleep not long after you, lulled by the rhythm of your light snore. 

[honnelander]

busgirl

once again i got carried away and wrote way more than i planned too lol thank you to the lovely anon who requested this and i hope i did your prompt justice request: what if the reader’s a merchant’s daughter who was supposed to marry a suitor but she runs away and ends up meeting sanji

WARNINGS: none

word count: 3.4k

pairing: opla!sanji x fem!reader

summary: reader is arranged to be married but she won't stand for it. so what does she do? she runs away and meets one particular chef, begging him for help

masterlist

taglist: @smol-book-nerd @shuujin @smolracoon25 @mischiefmanaged71 @amanda08319

You never imagined your life turning out like this: still living with your father at this grown age, never having gone beyond your small island town ever in your life, and waking up every day just to relive the same day over and over again. It was torture.

Every single day of your life has been the same since you left school: you woke up before the sun rose, made breakfast for you and your father, helped prepare the wagon for its daily trip into town, then spend all day yelling in the town's square trying to sell any shoes you could (your father was a shoe merchant), pack up the unsold product at the end of the day, head home, make dinner, then go to bed soon after cleaning up just so you could wake up and do the same things all over again. You hated it.

But what could you really do to change anything? You were born to a poor shoe merchant and ever since your mother had died, things had become even tighter for your small family, of now, two.

Your father never had much, barely a penny to his name, so that meant you also had no money to your name either. Sure, you could've started a side hustle of scams and cons, maybe trying your luck at playing poker at the docks whenever pirates showed up, but how could you just leave your father like that? Just leave him all alone once you scraped together enough berry to buy a one-way ticket out of this town? As much as you were tempted, you couldn't. It didn't feel right. And besides, you were always too exhausted at the end of the day to do anything else anyway.

But then one day, your father said something that would change your life forever.

The day started out like any other. You had cooked a quick meal of toast and eggs for yourselves and once you finished your plate, you moved to get up to put the dishes in the sink for later.

But before you could get out of your seat, your dad grabbed your wrist gently, telling you to stay seated. "Actually, y/n, no need to rush this morning. We're not going into town today."

"What?" You were taken aback. You couldn't remember a day where you both didn't do this daily routine. "Why?"

Your father couldn't look at you in the eye. Instead, he kept his focus on his half-eaten breakfast, which was also weird. He normally finished eating before you. "Y/n...you know I wouldn't do this unless I had no other choice," he started.

You felt your heart drop to the bottom of your stomach. What was happening?

"But business has been really slow lately, and I tried to hold this off for as long as I could," he continued.

"Hold what off?"

He kept talking like you hadn't said anything. "But there really was no other choice." He swallowed and finally looked up and the look in his eyes scared you. You've never seen your father look that upset before...the only other time he had looked like that had been when mom died.

You tried to swallow but your mouth was dry. "Dad, what's going on?"

"And you know I always will love you, right?"

"Dad," you said a little more sternly, your heart beating a thousand miles a minute. "What is happening?" After a moment of silence, you repeated yourself. "Dad, answer me."

His next sentence hit you like a ton of bricks. "Y/n, I arranged for you to be married."

You couldn't move. "What?" you breathed.

Like always, your father continued on like you hadn't said a word. "He's a nice man, a decent man. His name is Olaf and he's from the North Blue, comes from money..."

You felt your dad tighten his grip on your wrist and suddenly you felt like you were being suffocated. You ripped your hand away from your dad's grip, the sting of betrayal hurting more than any cut or wound ever could. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you fought your hardest not to let them fall. "You sold me?" your voice quivered.

Those three words finally got your dad's attention. He looked into your eyes again, hurt evident in his gaze, but you realized you didn't care. Not anymore. "No," he replied firmly. "You know I would never sell you to anyone. I would never do that."

A humorous laugh escaped your lips. "Oh? But you'd put me in an arranged marriage instead? For money?" When you blinked, tears fell down your cheeks. "Are we really that poor dad?" you spat.

"Y/n-"

"Why didn't you tell me how bad off we were before? Before-" you stuttered and waved your arms around, "before all of this? I could've- I could've done something, anything." You ran a hand through your hair as you exhaled, a sardonic smile appearing on your face as you looked up to the ceiling, up to whatever God had subjected you to this cruel fate.

"There's nothing you could've done, y/n."

"You don't know that!" you exclaimed. Pure hot red rage adorning your features as your furious eyes snapped down to look at your dad. "I could've hustled, I could've conned the guys down at the dock for some money. I could've done something instead of nothing!"

"And then what? End up dead in a dark alley once those men found out you stole money from them? End up raped?" Your dad's anger matched yours, his voice growing louder with each sentence. "Maybe become a pirate? There is no way I would ever let that happen to you y/n."

Your dad hated pirates and you knew he would rather die before he ever let you become one.

You flung your arms up in exasperation. rolling your eyes as you let out a frustrated groan. "Oh I don't know dad," you yelled, "maybe I could've joined the Marines or something!"

But your dad didn't like the Marines either. He believed pirates and Marines were the same person, just in different clothes.

"I wouldn't let you do that either, you know that y/n."

Suddenly, a thought stuck you: you were an adult, so why was your father still making all of these major life decisions for you? It didn't make sense.

But you knew one thing: you certainly weren't going to marry some rich guy you didn't know from the North Blue. Not if you were still living and breathing.

You glanced at the open window behind your dad, seeing the early morning tinges of a sunrise lighting up the sky. Perfect, you thought. Docked ships normally didn't leave port until the sun broke the horizon, so you had a chance to hop aboard any ship that would take you far far away from here. Away from your miserable life and a father you were realizing you hated.

The sky started becoming brighter by the minute and your heart rate started to spike. You estimated you had around 20 minutes or so until the sunrise broke and if you were serious about running away, it was now or never.

Suddenly, you stood up from the kitchen table and realized that your father had stopped whatever he was saying to look at you with a curious expression.

"Y/n?"

"Y-you know what dad?" your voice shook and you swallowed your nerves. "I...I think you're right? This Olaf guy probably isn't that bad and would probably give me a better life than I ever could," you ground out and forced a smile that you were sure looked more like a grimace. "I'll do it."

If today had been a normal day, your dad would've been tipped off that something was up but he was just so relieved that you were actually agreeing to all this.

Your dad had a relieved smile on his face as he said, "That makes me so happy to hear that y/n. You have no idea."

"Y-yeah, me too," you agreed with a small nod. You reached down to pick up your plates but your hands were shaking.

Your father placed a hand on your arm. "I understand you're nervous sweetheart. Why don't you go lie down in your room? There's some time until Olaf gets here. I can handle the dishes for today."

Perfect. You agreed and nodded quickly. Thanking your dad and giving him one last look before you went up to your room and never saw him again.

--------- -----

Your lungs were burning as you ran towards the docks. You could feel sweat running down your back as you pushed yourself to run as fast as you could, arms pumping and feet kicking out dirt behind you.

The sky was beginning to turn a lighter shade of orange and a ping of fear gripped your heart.

What if you didn't make it? What if all the ships were all boarded up and ready to set sail by the time you got there? It wasn't uncommon for ships to leave a tad early since most of them had a full day at sea before them but you were so close, you just had to make it. There were probably around five minutes or so until you reached the docks and you just had to get over this ridiculous hill.

But your legs were tired and your sides were cramping and you could feel yourself slowing down due to exhaustion. You weren't a huge runner to begin with but you were literally running for your life- so what choice did you have?

If you made it through all this, you vowed to yourself that you would get better at running. Who knew the next time your life would depend on it?

As you reached the top of the hill, you took a quick second to breathe and survey the docks before you but what you saw nearly stopped your heart. There were normally a dozen or so ships that littered these docks but it looked like most of them had headed out early with only a few ships remaining, and the ones that were left? They looked like they were nearly ready to leave port as well.

With newfound urgency, you sprinted down the hill, yelling out to any sailor who would listen to your plea.

"WAIT!" you screamed. "Wait for me!"

But no one acknowledged you. You started to wave your arms around, your travel bag bouncing around as you continued to sprint.

"PLEASE! I beg you!"

As you got closer, you could start to make out the names of the few ships that were there. There was one ship called "The Happy Farewell" and you figured since they were closest you would try them first.

"Get lost girl," the ship's captain sneered. "I got no use for a girl like you."

"But please, I need to leave. You don't understand," you begged.

The captain clicked his tongue as he shook his head. "Don't we all?" he muttered. But he spared you one last glance before boarding his ship and something in your expression must've been wildly desperate because he sighed before nodding towards the ship two docks down. "Zeff's."

"What?"

"Go to Zeff's ship, girl. The Baratie. He doesn't have the heart to turn away desperate souls like yourself."

Your head whipped towards the direction the captain was looking and you saw the decent-sized Baratie standing there.

"But you better hurry," he warned. "They're setting sail as soon as we leave."

You quickly looked back at the captain to thank him but he was already walking up the plank to board his ship, barking out orders to let down the sails and hoist up the anchor.

Shit. You had to hurry.

You sprinted two docks over and once you reached the dock The Baratie was tied to, you saw a couple of men in white coats loading up the last of the crates of food onboard. You had just made it.

It was weird to you that these pirates were dressed up in matching white coats and blue bandanas around their collar but, hey, it could always be worse and you weren't in a position to be picky. You would even join a circus crew at this point.

You made your way over to the closest "pirate", a tall blonde guy that had hair almost covering his left eye. He was inspecting one of the crates, clipboard in hand and checked things off as he examined it.

"Excuse me," you huffed, trying to get this man's attention. "But I need your help. I need to speak to the ship's captain."

"Don't we all," the guy replied with a good-humored laugh and crooked smile, not looking up from his clipboard.

"Please," you urged. "It's important."

The man looked up from his clipboard and did a double-take, clearly not expecting a young woman like yourself, who looked like they just ran away from demons, asking to speak to the captain this early in the morning.

His eyebrows rose as he looked you over, his smile disappearing. "Are you alright Madam? Is something the matter?"

As his eyes scanned you over, you noticed how good-looking this guy was. And here you were, all sweaty and disheveled, your hair probably sticking out in all different directions. You prayed to whatever God was out there that you didn't have sweat stains on your shirt.

What a day this was turning out to be.

You ran your hands over your hair, trying to smooth down your flyaways and hoping you looked a bit more presentable. "I will be alright, when I speak to the captain."

"Anything I can help you with?"

What the- was this guy hitting on you? Your wandering eyes snapped back to look at this man when he asked that, looking to see if he really had the audacity to hit on you while you were begging for help, but you saw no trace of flirtation whatsoever, just concern.

"Ah- no. Unless you have the power to give me a spot on this crew."

The man's eyes lit up (you noticed they were blue). "Ah, so you want to join the Baratie? Become a chef yourself?"

You looked at him in utter confusion, blinking a couple times to make sure you heard him right. "Huh? A chef?" You looked at his outfit a little more closely and turned to examine the other men who were dressed similarly. You didn't notice it before, but they weren't just wearing any white coat, they were wearing a chef's white coat. "You guys are chefs?" you asked dumbly.

The chef, as you now noticed, rubbed his jaw as he tried to hide his smile at your obvious question. "Yes, Madam. We're chefs."

"So you're a pirate chef?"

The blonde cook couldn't hide his laugh at your series of questions, his blue eyes sparkling and white teeth showing like he had just heard the funniest joke. "No, Madam. We're just chefs. Not pirates or pirate chefs."

You felt stupid and felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. "Oh." But if they were all chefs on this boat, did that mean... "Wait- do I have to be a chef in order to get on this boat?"

"Ah well, if it were up to me," he sighed, "I would give you a spot on the ship regardless if you could cook or not." He twirled the pencil between his fingers as he crossed his arm in thought. "Although, we do need some new waiters. The dining room always seems to be short-staffed..."

You opened your mouth to quickly volunteer yourself even though you never waited tables a day in your life but the blonde chef kept talking.

"Or," he thought out loud," if you really wanted to be a chef with no experience, there are ways you could get into the kitchen. We do need a new busboy. Or girl," he quickly corrected. "Move your way up and learn..."

The sun broke the horizon, the morning orange light now fading into yellow. You swallowed. You were out of time. If you couldn't get a spot on this ship then your life was over.

"I'll do it," you quickly interrupted and nodded. "I'll- I'll do anything. A chef, a waiter, a busboy or busgirl- anything. I'll even clean toilets if I have to. I just- I need to get on this ship."

Your desperate plea silenced the chef, pulling him out of his musings and you could see concern wash over his features. But before he could say anything else, a voice called out from the top of the ship's plank.

"Oi! Sanji! What the hell are you doing down there, son?" the man with a tall chef's hat and braided mustache called out. As he made his way down to the dock, you noticed one of his legs was a wooden peg instead. "The sun's broken the horizon. I don't know how many times I need to tell you this, but next time we pull out of port late, I'm shoving my leg up your ass and you're off the line for a week."

Sanji shook his head, for once not caring about the threat of not cooking, and looked at his father figure, nodding to you. "Zeff, you need to speak to this girl. You have to let her join our crew."

You watched as Zeff followed Sanji's nod and looked down at you with raised eyebrows. It was like he just noticed you were there. "Her? For the last time Sanji, I'm not letting one of your one-night stands join the crew," he said with an exasperated sigh and turned back towards the ship. "Pretty or not."

"Wait!" you called out, grabbing Zeff's arm and immediately dropping it when he turned to look at you in disbelief. "I, I don't know him," you quickly said, pointing at Sanji and taking a big step away from him to prove your point, "My name is y/n and I desperately need a spot on your ship, Sir. Please."

Zeff studied you for a moment, eyes scanning your face. "People like you normally aren't 'desperate' to join my crew."

"But I am, Sir. I," you inhaled a shaky breath at the thought that this man could also turn you away. "I can't stay here. I need to leave. I'll do anything. I can even scrub the toilets."

Zeff regarded you with a short sigh. "Lass, there's no way I would have you scrubbing toilets. I'd make him do that way before asking you," he said and jabbed a thumb at Sanji, silencing Sanji's scoff of disbelief with a look. His face became serious as he asked, "You're serious aren't you?"

You nodded. "As serious as I can be sir."

The head chef became quiet, looking at you like he was trying to figure out what you were running away from, but it wasn't any of his business. At the end of the day, everyone had a past and he wasn't there to judge.

"Alright, lass, you want a position at my restaurant that badly? You got it. Your first service as a busboy- girl, whatever- starts tonight." He pointed a finger at you and with a stern voice asked, "Everyone on this ship earns their keep, alright? And no talking back. Understood?"

Relief flooded your veins at his words, you couldn't control the smile that stretched your cheeks as you nodded. "Yes, chef."

The corner of Zeff's mouth twitched upwards in amusement and he nodded once. "Good." As he turned around to head back onto the ship, he glanced at Sanji. "I like this girl. Wherever you found her...good job, son." He started walking back up the plank onto the ship and called out, "Get those last few crates up on here, boy. We got to leave, we have a dinner service tonight!"

You frowned as you watched Zeff walk away, a little annoyed at the thought that 'Sanji found you' instead of you finding him. When you looked over at Sanji, you saw him still watching Zeff make his way up the plank, beaming slightly at the head chef's praise.

"You didn't find me. I found you," you said to your newest crewmember.

Sanji looked over at you, a small mischievous smile on his face. "And aren't you glad you did?"

Before you could correct him or slap him, you heard Zeff calling out to you from the ship's deck. "Oi! Y/n! What are you doing down there? I'm not paying you to just stand there all day with Sanji! There's a pile of dirty dishes with your name on them in the sink."

"What? Already?" you grumbled as made your way up the plank to board the ship.

From behind you, you could hear Sanji's laughter and you could hear it until you made your way inside.

[daddysfangirls-marvel]

Polyamorous: Sketchpad

*bonus*

Steve Roger x reader x Bucky Barnes

Warning: fluff, nudity

Polyamorous

(1)

Steve liked art. He liked looking at it and making it, although he rarely shared it. At least, not the important ones, the ones he held close. This one right here would be one of them.

Steve sat on the floor right outside the nursery. Inside, his wife was sitting in a plush pink recliner. She lay relaxed, slowly dozing off in her arms, their daughter gently suckling on one breast she removed from her dress. All of it was encased in a soft glow from the window.

"beautiful," Bucky whispered as he lowered himself to look over Steve's shoulder. He put his chin on his shoulder as he watched him work silently. "Do you want to put this one on the mantel?"

"No," Steve said. "I have a painting in my studio. It's almost done."

"Does she know?"

"No, it's a surprise."

"It's beautiful," Bucky kisses the back of his neck. " But I'm not letting her sleep like that."

"I'm done anyway," Steve says as Bucky gets up, walking around him towards their wife and baby.

(Y/n) stirred as she felt weight leaving her arms, but panic was dispelled as she saw Bucky gently kissing her daughter's forehead as he placed her in her crib. " Sorry," she croaked, tiredness in her voice as she tried to stand up.

"It's okay," Bucky helped her stand up. "You should be sorry for resting. Plus, you gave Stevie some inspiration. "

Steve gets up and hands his drawing to her. " Oh honey, this is beautiful-oh" It was then that she noticed her tit was still out and moved to cover herself. " You pervs weren't going to tell me I was hanging out. "

Bucky shrugged. " Liked the view."

-

(2)

The house was quiet. Steve dropped his bag and toed off his shoes carefully so as not to disturb the silence. In the kitchen, he found his dinner wrapped in foil still hot on the stove. " I love you," he whispered as he unwrapped his food. Once he was done with his dinner, he cleaned and put his dishes away.

He was making his way upstairs when he spotted a few baby toys on the floor and a lamp still on in the living room. He sighed as he made his way to clean up the mess. It was then that he spotted his entire family curled up on the couch. He smiles at the scene before him.

Bucky was lying across the couch with the baby on one side of his chest and (Y/n) on the other. Ian lay between Bucky's legs while also holding on to (Y/n) legs. Ash lay on the other side of the couch, her legs tangled with (Y/n) one foot under Ian.

Truly, they were all a giant tangle of limbs. It was absolutely adorable.

Retrieving his sketch pad, he got comfortable on the floor and sketched his family. It was peaceful sitting, with only the lamp lighting the room and the soft sounds of their snoring filling the silence.

Steve didn't know how long he had been sketching; by the time someone started moving, he had been working on the smaller details.

"Hi," (Y/n) whispered as she stretched her arms.

"Hi," he chuckled. " You ready for a bed?"

"Your son has got a death grip on my leg."

"He's a mama's boy," Steve said as he got up, moving to untangle Ian. " I think he's just some more of his mama's attention."

"He thinks I don't give him enough attention?" (Y/n) asked with genuine fear in her voice.

Steve picked the boy up, putting his head on his shoulder gently. " Remember how Ash was when we first started planning for Ian."

"She thought we'd push her aside with an actual baby in the house. She got over that quickly, though?"

"Ash was a young adult at the time. She handled her emotions much better and actually talked to us about it. Ian is six, and he's not going to get over it as quickly. He just needs some reassurance, is all."

(Y/n) laid back down, appearing to be in deep thought. Steve left her, taking Ian upstairs to his room. Tucking him in, he kissed his forehead. As he returned downstairs, he found Ash tirelessly going to her room. He made sure to stop her and give her a goodnight forehead kiss as well.

"Are you working tomorrow?" (Y/n) asked. " I want to take Ian to lunch tomorrow, just the two of us."

"Okay," Steve said as he picked her up bridal style. "Should we leave them?"

" Yeah, he looks so peaceful."

Steve carried (Y/n) to bed. Came back tossing a blanket over them and leaving a baby monitor before making his way back upstairs.

"Good night," he whispered as he kissed Bucky and his baby's forehead.

"Good Night"

-

(3)*

"We're always asleep." (Y/n) said as she flipped through Steve's sketches. It wasn't often that Steve sketched actual people, but when he did, they were often unaware or asleep.

"You move less when you're sleeping," Steve said as he put away his dry painting.

"I'm sure you want us to pose for you or something. Draw me like one of your French girls. " A large grin spread across his face. " I bet you had some French girls during your time in Paris."

"No, absolutely not. But, um, you've said that before." He takes a seat at his window and motions her forward; she stands between his legs. " Way back then, before the war. You asked me to draw you like one of those naughty French girls."

"Did you?"

"No, we were always interrupted. Or-" he leaned forward, kissing along her neck, " I got distracted."

(Y/n) looked around the room for a moment. "We're alone now. No one to interrupt. And I'm sure you can have more restraint now. So-" (Y/n) stepped back, unzipping her dress and letting it pool at her feet. " Draw me like a Naught French Girl."

Okay, so Steve was taking this seriously.

He had (Y/n) removed the rest of her clothing and put on a sheer robe. He had her lying across the 'therapy couch' with her arms behind her head, knees slightly bent towards him, and her robe completely open.

He was very focused, his gaze intense as he took in every detail of her. She wanted to speak, but she didn't break the silence. That and she was focused on making sure she posed right and tried her best to hide her imperfections. Suck in her stomach, raise her leg to hide her stretch marks

"Don't look so stiff, love"

"Sorry,"

"how is work? I've noticed you've been busier lately."

"Dr.Cho has been working on things and asked for my assistance. Peter also had some questions about his biology. And Vision was thinking about the future."

That was enough to get her to relax, the tension in her body fading as she talked about her work and then the kids. No longer sucking in her stomach or tucking her legs. Just relaxing as she fell into a trance, going on and on about their children. He didn't even mind as she moved a little and gushed over their children.

He finished but didn't let her know. Instead, he sat back and gazed upon her, just adoring her.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here," Bucky said as he stepped into the office.

"He's drawing me like one of his French girls."

"Stevie had french girls?"

"No," Steve passed him to a sketch pad.

"You're done?"

"Finished 30 minutes ago."

"What?!" Steve smiled." Why didn't you tell me?" he shrugged smugly as she got up, closing her rob.

"I was enjoying the view," he said. She just scoffed.

"I can't blame him, but it was a good view. And this is an amazing sketch." He passed the sketchpad to (Y/n). Leaning down, he kissed Stevie's forehead." You're always so amazing. My artist."

"Could have been in a professional," (Y/n) said as she sat on his lap.

"Actually, I've been offered a position at the rec center I volunteer at. They have art classes, and they asked if I could teach -"

"YES, YES, DO IT. " (y/n) shouted as she wrapped her arms around her neck. " Oh yes, please do it. You'll love it."

Steve chuckled as she bounced in his lap. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. "Okay, okay, I'll talk to them about it."

"Well, Mr. Roger-Barnes, classes have ended. How about we get her dressed and go for lunch?"

"Yay" (Y/n) jumped up and ran to their room to get dressed.

"I'm surprised you didn't fuck her. That pose was a bit too alluring for me."

"I am, too. But she looked too relaxed for me to ruin it. "

"Maybe next time."

Steve chuckled, shaking his head.

[lovecla]

IF YOU LOVE ME, LET ME KNOW | jack hughes.

chapter nine:

<last chapter> <next chapter>

➴ warnings: none, just pure, domestic soph and jack

➴ word count: 2.8k

➴ author’s note: we’re so close to the end of IYLM,LMK that i’m feeling a little bit emotional :,) hope u guys like this one and as always, thank u so much for reading

“HAVE you guys thought about how you’re going to announce your relationship?” Grace asked, throwing herself in the chair by the fireplace.

You were all in your house, Jack, Grace, Nico and you, chatting after a dinner together. It was the 19th of December, and you were all extremely busy: Jack and Nico with the season, you and Grace with your concert next week, at the Jingle Ball in New York, on the 23rd

“I think the best thing you could do is soft launch it,” Grace answered her own question, nodding. “It would be the move.”

Jack rested his chin on top of your head. “What the hell does that mean?”

“Soft launch means hinting that you’re dating someone without actually saying who it is,” you offered, sitting closer to him. You were all on the floor, and you were between Jack’s legs, drowning in his arms.

“Why would I do that?” He asked, and you can hear the annoyance in his voice. “If I am dating Soph, I want everyone to know about it.”

You smiled, amused with his answer.

“I know that, caveman, but it would be fun to let your fans speculate.” Grace answers back, rolling her eyes.

“Bullshit.”

You and Nico laugh, watching as Jack and Grace argue back and forth over the topic.

You haven’t thought about how you’d share your relationship status with your fans. Sure, you were head over heels for Jack and you— now— knew he felt the same, but you still had your fears and worries. If you announced that you are dating Jack and you both end up breaking up after that, you knew it would cause a commotion— lots and lots of people talking about you and your bad taste in guys and how unlucky you are.

But Jack was so… he was your forever, and you knew it.

It might be soon to say this, but it is just how you feel; Jack makes you feel special in a way only your family had done before and you could see your future with him, and you actually wanted it.

Nico and Grace left shortly after that, because you needed to start packing for your trip. You and Jack organized the kitchen, putting the dishes away and wiping the counters. Surprisingly, Jack did most of the chores himself and even liked doing them.

After you were done, you both went back to your bedroom, and you started organising your things.

“Are you going to perform in sweatpants?” He asked, looking genuinely curious.

You rolled your eyes and laughed, putting another pair of socks inside your bag. “Of course not, Hughes. The outfit I’m supposed to wear during the concert is in New York, because it’s just borrowed. I don’t actually keep the dresses or the skirts and tops I wear during events.”

“That sucks,” he laid on the bed. “I’d love to see you wearing one of those little skirts while you cook lunch.”

“Pervert,” you mumbled, trying to remember if you needed anything else.

“Do you really have to go tomorrow? The concert is on the 24th, baby,” Jack questioned, for the third time today. You smiled.

“You already know the answer, handsome.”

He got up and closed your bag, before putting it on the floor and picking you up, making you laugh. He threw you on the bed, gently, and stood on top of you, his hands on each side of your head.

“I’m gonna miss you, y’know,” he whispered, before placing a gentle kiss on your lips, making your heart beat faster. How’d you get so lucky?

“Me too,” you replied, placing your hands on his cheeks. “I’m still feeling shitty for telling your mom that I wouldn’t be able to spend Christmas with you guys. I really wanted to,” you confessed, furrowing your eyebrows.

Ellen called you when she found out about you and Jack, and rambled for thirty minutes about how she knew you were the right person for him and how she adored you and that you now needed to spend Christmas with them.

You expected yourself to feel overwhelmed and anxious because they were great people and you wanted them to like you, but you found yourself feeling nothing but happy when Ellen called.

But you couldn’t miss the concert and it was damn near impossible getting a plane ticket on the 25th, especially with all the snowing happening in New York. So, Christmas with Grace in your hotel bedroom it is.

“I still can’t believe you’ll be all alone with Grace.” Jack added, looking distressed.

“It’s just how my job works, baby,” you shrugged, giving him a half smile. “I’m sure that if you had to play during the holidays you would.”

He blinked twice before getting under the covers and dragging you with him, so you could be the little spoon, but facing him still.

“Yeah, I would, but it doesn’t mean I’d be happy with it.”

You wanted to tell him that you really didn’t mind that much, you loved performing and you loved to make your fans happy. But you could see he was genuinely upset about the whole situation, so you just snuggled closer and kissed his neck.

“Let’s just sleep, okay?” Your voice sounded lazy and tired, just like how you were feeling. “I leave early tomorrow and you have to go to practice.”

He didn’t say anything, just held you tighter, sighed and kissed your head. “See you tomorrow, baby.”

“Mhm,” you smiled. “Love you.”

“Love you more.”

Even if you thought that was up for debate, you didn’t say anything, embracing the sleep with open arms.

— ⛄️

“FIVE minutes!” You heard the stage manager’s yell in your earpiece, while you read Jack’s texts on your phone.

Texting before concerts and games was just another way of trying to be closer to each other, even when you were away. One of your fears was Jack getting bored of your relationship because you couldn’t be with him whenever he needed— sometimes you had to work on his days off and couldn’t see him.

But whenever he texted you before his games, or when he FaceTimed you before you went to bed, no matter what time it was for him, you could feel your fears stepping back. Jack was a really nice boyfriend for a guy who had never had a girlfriend before, that you had to admit.

You replied back, giving your phone to Grace before you stood behind the curtains, waiting for them to open so you could enter the stage.

The Madison Square Garden Arena was filled with people and screams. You were the opening act, so it was a huge deal. Grace gave you a good luck kiss before you stepped on stage, smiling at how many people were there.

As you step on stage, the energy is electric, with the twinkling holiday lights reflecting off the excited crowd. The first few beats of the "Nonsense Christmas Remix" kick in, and the playful, festive vibe fills the air. You can feel the audience sway with anticipation, and you smile, your mic ready in hand.

‘Think I only want you under my mistletoe.

I might change your contact to “Has a huge North Pole,”

You lean into the light-hearted, flirty tone of the song, weaving your voice through the fun, upbeat rhythm. The holiday bells add a sparkle to the track, making your performance feel like a holiday party. Every line you sing is filled with a blend of mischief and charm, and the cheeky Christmas-themed lyrics keep everyone grinning and tapping along.

You said you like my stockings better on the floor.

Boy, l've been a bad girl, I guess I'm gettin' coal (no).

Lemme come warm you up, you been out in the snow.

Baby, my tongue goes numb, sounds like "ho-ho-ho"

As the chorus hits, you play with the playful nature of the song, giving it a bit of sass while staying in tune with the holiday spirit. You make eye contact with the crowd, as if you’re sharing an inside joke. Each note you hit feels effortless, and the remix’s fun twists on the original song’s lyrics bring a fresh energy to the room.

I don't even know, I'm talkin' Christmas

I'm talkin', I'm talkin' (ah)

I'm talkin' deckin' all the halls, I'm talkin' spikin' eggnog

I'm talkin' opposite of small, I'm talkin' big snowballs.

As you continue singing, the festive mood only grows. The crowd is now fully engaged, swaying and singing along with the infectious, cheeky lyrics. Your voice dances through the light-hearted verses, especially when you hit those playful lines that make the audience chuckle. The jingle bells and upbeat tempo add a sparkle to every word, and you let your personality shine, matching the quirky vibe of the song.

You can’t help but play with the crowd, flashing a grin as you hit the fun twists on holiday references, dropping flirty lines with a wink. As the chorus repeats, you raise your mic toward the audience, inviting them to belt out the words with you. It’s not just a performance—it’s a holiday celebration, and you’re at the center of it. Your confidence grows with each note, feeding off the energy of the room, and by the final line, everyone is wrapped up in the joy and fun of the moment, feeling that special holiday magic you've helped create.

By the end, before you started saying the outro, you could feel the audience wrapped up in the joy of the season and your vibrant performance. You kneeled on the floor besides the crowd:

Tell me is that giant package for me?

Santa's too excited, he came early

Jingle Ball you're so hot I'm not worthy

The screaming was loud, even with the earpiece in. You were smiling so hard, your chest going up and down, your legs feeling like jelly from all the dancing and jumping but you were so freaking happy.

“Thank you so much, New York,” you breathed, blowing kisses left and right. “I hope all of you have a wonderful Christmas and I love you all so, so much. Thank you.”

You bowed before leaving the stage, thanking the band on your way out. You removed your earpiece, still hearing the screams outside. The backstage was a huge mess, with other artists coming at you to say “hi”, and you greeting them back.

Some random man escorted you to your dressing room, and you thought it was weird because usually Grace was the one to do this, but she was probably just busy. Thanking the man, you entered the room, ready to change into some normal, warm clothes because you were freezing—

“Hi, baby.”

Jack was standing in front of you, with his winter jacket and white teeth.

You stopped midway, covering your mouth with your hand.

Jack Hughes was standing in front of you, in the middle of your dressing room.

What.

“Jack?” You asked, even though you were clearly seeing him in front of you. You smiled back, jumping into his arms, happy when he picked you up— you were sweaty from all the dancing but you still squeezed him strongly. “Baby, what are you doing here?”

He held you closer, kissing your temple.

“I don’t know much about this boyfriend thing, but I’m pretty sure a good boyfriend wouldn’t let his girlfriend and her annoying best friend spend Christmas all alone so I thought I’d ask for a few favors.”

“The annoying best friend in question is still in the room, you fuckhead,” you heard Grace’s voice behind you and you removed yourself from Jack’s hold, turning around and facing Grace, who was now smiling back at you. “Surprise, babygirl.”

“Oh, Grace, I love you so much!” You hugged her, kissing her cheeks. “Could kiss you right now!”

“Let’s not do that, right, baby?” Jack pouted behind you, and you giggled. “Save the kisses for your man only.”

“You’re crazy,” you whispered, looking at Jack and then Grace. “Absolutely batshit. What if someone saw you?”

Jack opened his mouth to reply, but Grace was quicker. “Jack was supposed to be here the entire concert, but somehow he convinced the bodyguard to let him watch the show from the pit, and if that wasn’t enough, he took a picture with a fan and the fan’s girlfriend posted it on Twitter. So, yeah,” she shrugged, throwing daggers at Jack with her eyes. “Pretty much everyone knows he’s here.”

You stared at your boyfriend, only to watch him smile naughty. It was clear he didn’t give a fuck about people knowing.

“I wish I could say I knew what to do with you, but I don’t,” you told him, kissing his cheek lightly so that the lipstick wouldn’t smudge. “What about your family?”

“They actually encouraged me to come,” he put his hands inside his pockets. “Ma wanted to send a gigantic apple pie.”

“Let’s call them later, mhm?”

“Sure thing, baby,” he tilts his head, kissing you gently and quickly. “You killed it tonight. My little popstar.”

You blushed and opened your mouth to answer, but Grace was faster— again. “Guys, I’m still here. Please.”

You laughed, hugging her.

“Let’s go home, I’m still jet lagged and so fucking hungry I could eat two entire large pizzas alone.”

“New York pizza sucks, by the way,” Grace added, grabbing your clothes and handing them to you. “Can we have sushi?”

You looked at Jack, silently asking what he thought of it. He just nodded, sitting on the couch and waiting for you to change.

It was going to be a great night.

— ⛄️

“JACK, we shouldn’t be doing this, oh my God, what if I fall, what if I die here—”

You heard Jack’s precious laugh beside you. “You’re not going to die, baby. And if you fall, I’m here to catch you,” he winked at you, and you rolled his eyes, not finding the situation funny at all.

You convinced him to walk around New York, to see the Christmas decorations and drink hot chocolate, but it somehow backfired at you because the minute that man put his eyes on an ice rink, you were done.

You and Jack spent the entire 24th of December sightseeing together. New York was full of people, so you didn’t really bother hiding yourselves.

Grace said she wasn’t going to be the third wheel so she stayed at the hotel. You and Jack walked around, taking pictures and eating food that definitely weren’t in your diet plan but neither of you cared.

At the end of the day, when you were both ready to head back and order takeout, but now, you were both wearing skates.

With Jack skating smoothly beside you while you were holding onto his arm for dear life. The last time you skated on ice you were like twelve years old so your fear was understandable.

He put his hands on your waist, guiding you from behind, not letting you fall. You were still surprised with how secure he was on ice, but then you reminded yourself that he skated more than walked sometimes.

“See? You’re doing great, baby,” he whispered in your ear, and you smiled, feeling proud of yourself; forgetting completely that he was the one doing all the work. “You’re one step away from stealing my job.”

“Shut up,” you laughed, feeling more certain of your steps now. “This is actually super fun.”

He hums behind you, skating a little bit faster and taking you with him.

You were having so much fun. Jack felt warm beside you and you wanted nothing but to kiss him all the time.

He laughed at your jokes, took dozens of pictures of you, held you the entire time. He listened to your rambling about the lights and how good the city looked.

He bought you doughnuts and hot chocolate, and watched with a funny face as you shoved them in your mouth, only to complain about the hotness of the drink.

“Be careful, baby.” he said, kissing the tip of your cold nose.

“Thank you,” you whispered, giving him a kiss.

He held the side of your face with his right hand, while his left pulled you closer by the waist. You stood on the tip of your toes, trying to match his height. The kiss tasted like chocolate, sugar and something else that you couldn’t remember the name of, but it didn’t matter.

You ended up spending Christmas Eve eating take out inside a hotel room with your best friend and your boyfriend, facetiming your mom and sisters— your nieces loved Jack— and Ellen and Jim— she cooked the gigantic apple pie either way— but you never felt so whole and happy.

If it could get any better than this, you weren’t so sure.

— ♡

liked by njdevils, lhughes_06, canucks and 245,982 others

jackhughes Merry Christmas from soph and I

View all 1,990 comments

sophiamontenegro i love u

nicohischier Finally 🫡

user86 I TOLD YALL WHAAT THEYRE DATING ?!!/!/?/??:

user1 I think imma start doing drugs

user78 How tf did he pull her

user21 The way jack’s feed is hockey hockey brothers hockey and then BOOM famous popstar girlfriend is insane

trevorzegras heartbreaking 💔

jackhughes trevorzegras keep crying

_quinnhughes Congrats, Soph and Jackie! Merry Xmas 🤶

morgan.grace is this the “soft launch” we were talking abt jack😭

jackhughes morgan.grace bullshit

njdevils our future miss HUGHES 💜

user93 who even runs this account lmfao 😭😭😭

user11 we got jack hughes dating before gta6

user12 THEY’RE TOGETHER AGAIN?? WHAT ABT THAT GIRL AVA WHO SAID SHE WAS DATING HIM

user13 user12 she deactivated her account after this post so i can only imagine she was lying 🤷🏽‍♀️

+

[and-claudia]

Yours Pt. 4 (Paddy x reader) (Speak No Evil)

Warnings: DDDNE (that is your warning that this is gonna get a little fucked up here), manipulation, controlling relatives, lying, p in v, infidelity, let me know if I missed any

Word count: 4355

Taglist (Read the rules, follow them or I will remove your response)

After we were shown around the house, we made our way back downstairs. Ant had to go finish his chores outside which included checking on the animals. Agnes wanted to go see them as well and so after getting approval from Paddy, she was allowed to go. Lousie being the overprotective mother she was of course had to follow her out, which prompted Ben to go as well. 

“Ciara, why don’t you join them? I am going to check on dinner.” He said, and she gave him a smile and nod before following them out. 

I had actually ran upstairs to use the bathroom and when I got back I was going to head out with the rest of them to not create any suspicions just yet, but Paddy stopped me. 

“Yn, wait, I need to talk to you.” He said, urgency in his voice. 

I walked over to where he stood in the kitchen with a confused look on my face. 

“Remember how I said that we are going to have to be very careful about what we say and do around Ciara… she may be a little jealous over what happened in Italy.” He said. 

I covered my mouth in shock, “I’m so sorry, Paddy… I thought she was okay with it… I- I had no idea… did she see the pictures too?” I asked nervously. 

He shook his head, “It’s okay, and she was for that one night… but after that…” He sighed heavily and shook his head, “And no, I hid the pictures, keeping those for my eyes only… and don’t get me wrong, I still want you more than anything… I just need some time to take care of some things first, okay?”  

I was a little skeptical, “Paddy, I have to ask… you told me I wasn’t going back with them… if that’s the case, what is happening with you and Ciara? I may be young and sweet, but I am not one for sharing, not long-term… so how does she fit into this?” I said, motioning between the two of us. 

Paddy flashed his charming smile and looked me in the eyes with his piercing blue ones, “You still trust me, don’t you?” 

His charm was like a spell. However, it was one that I not only didn’t mind being under, it was one I wanted to be put under. 

“Of course I do, Paddy.” I said, biting my lip slightly as I glanced down at his before focussing back on his eyes. 

“Ata, girl. Come here.” He said, pulling me to him and kissing me roughly. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of everything.” 

“Okay, … is there anything I can do to help?” I asked, genuinely wanting to help him with anything he needed me to. 

He smiled at my offer and used his hand to cup my cheek before giving me one last kiss, “Not yet, baby, soon, but not just yet.” 

I had no idea what he meant by that, but the way he said it sent a wave of excitement over me for some reason. And the smile he gave me made me melt. I knew that when it came down to it, I would help him with anything. 

Reluctantly I stepped away from him and went to join the others outside. We stayed out there until the sun began to set. Conversation mostly just included the two kids having their own while Ciara talked with Ben and Louise, leaving me to just sit and listen mostly. I was beyond relieved when Paddy opened the door and called out, letting us know dinner was ready. 

We all went inside and made our way to the kitchen. Sitting on the counter was a dish covered in tin foil. It smelt absolutely amazing. 

“Ta-da!” Paddy said as he grabbed the tin foil and ripped it off, revealing some type of roasted bird. 

“Wow, that looks amazing, Paddy.” Ben said. 

“Thank you. Was, Libby, our prized goose, out on the farm. Killed it and cooked it with my own hands.” Paddy said as he began to slice it. 

“Oh, you didn’t have to do all that.” Louise said from where she stood off to the side, clearly already uncomfortable. 

“You’re our VIP guests. It’s the least we could do.” Ciara insisted. 

I watched as Paddy sliced off a piece of meat and the turn to walk with it over towards my aunt. He approached her, holding out the fort ready for her to eat off of it, “Our gift to you, Louise, the best part of the roast.” He said, bringing it up to her. 

She tried and failed to deflect it to someone else as Paddy insisted further, “Come on, doctor’s orders.” He said and she finally gave in, taking the fork in her mouth. 

I had to hide my laugh behind a cough as I watched it all happen. To tell the truth, I couldn’t tell if he had purposely done it or not, considering she had told them she was a vegetarian in Italy. Either way, watching her struggle to chew it was satisfying. If it were anyone else, I probably would have spoken up on their behalf so they wouldn’t have to eat something they were against. But she was such a people pleaser it was satisfying to watch her reap the consequences of it. 

The rest of dinner went on fairly uneventfully. That was until Ciara turned her attention towards me. 

“So, Yn, why do you still live with your aunt and uncle? You’re old enough to move out by now, aren’t you?” She asked. 

Her question must have caught Paddy off guard as well because his eyebrows shot up as he looked over at her and then to me, waiting for an answer. 

“I’ve been trying to save up to move out, actually. But it can be hard, making a steady income doing what I do.” I said, causing Ben to scoff slightly. 

My uncle didn’t approve of my career choices, saying I would never make a living doing it, but it was my life. 

“Oh, what do you do?” Ciara asked. 

“I’m a photographer. I’ve done a few bigger jobs like weddings, but I mostly try to stick to private photoshoots.” I explained. 

Paddy nodded, “Yeah. I’ve seen her work. It’s stunning.” He said, giving me a subtle pointed look, and I knew what he was actually referring to, “She showed me some back in Italy.” 

“Ooh, I’d love to see them sometime.” Ciara said, and I nodded. 

“Of course. Maybe I can even take some for you while I’m here.” I said.

“That would be nice.” Paddy said with a smirk that only I seemed to catch. 

After dinner concluded, everyone began going their separate ways. Ciara and Louise went upstairs to put the kids to bed, leaving just Paddy, my uncle, and myself downstairs. 

“Are you sure you’ll be okay sleeping down here? You can always stay with Louise if you want to. I can stay down here. I won’t mind.” Ben offered to me out of nowhere. 

“What? Are you and here still having issues? If you don’t want to sleep with your wife, say so. I am fine sleeping down here.” I said, rolling my eyes. 

“It has nothing to do with that, and you know you’re not supposed to bring that up. I just wasn’t sure how you feel being so… exposed to an older man in his house.” He explained. 

“Oh, after Italy, I thought us two were just going to bring up things the other has explicitly told the other not to… and for the record, I feel perfectly safe around Paddy.” I said just as Paddy walked into the room. 

“The two of you have got to try this. Here.” He said, handing each of us a bottle. 

I eyed it suspiciously, waiting for him to explain.

“It’s hard cider, made it myself with our farm-grown apples.” He said, popping the lid off his and taking a swig. 

I followed his lead and did the same with Ben not too far behind me. It was unsurprisingly very good. After that dinner Paddy made, I had little doubts that there was anything he couldn’t do with his hands. 

“Damn, Paddy, this is really good.” I said, before taking another drink. 

“Slow down, killer,” He said, leaning forward as if to say something to just me, but he still said it loud enough, obviously, for Ben to hear it, “I don’t think your aunt and uncle would take too well to me getting you drunk again.” He joked. 

“Getting her drunk again? When was the first time you got her drunk?” Ben asked, clearly suspicious. 

“Okay, maybe not me directly, but when she, Ciara, and I went to the club in Italy, Yn did get quite drunk.” He explained, throwing Ben off his trail immediately. 

Ben nodded, “Oh, that’s right.” 

As the two other adults arrived back down stairs, Paddy was pulling out a hand-rolled cigarette. I eyed it, wondering if it was, in fact, what I thought it was. Neither Ben nor Lousie knew I had ever smoked weed before.

“Geez, it’s so quiet out here. Do you even have neighbors?” 

“Yeah, all the way across the valley, but you know we look after each other,” He paused, taking out his lighter,  “You don’t mind if I?” Paddy asked, hesitating before lighting it. 

When he was met with no pushback, he lit it up and took a long drag from it. 

Ben laughed to himself before responding to what Paddy had just said, “Ours are right across the hall, and I don’t think we’ve ever spoken.” He said. 

“Mr. and Mrs. Gibson. They’re a sweet old couple. Have cute Tabby cat that I’ve taken pictures of before.” I said. 

“Well, I guess Someone has spoken to them. When did you even meet them?” He asked, confused. 

“When we moved in.” 

“Louise, you have a bad neck?” Ciara asked suddenly, diffusing the tension building between Ben and me and drawing the attention to my aunt. 

“No, uh… it’s just something that flares up sometimes.” She said. 

I rolled my eyes. Yes, she had a fucked up neck. Has had it for as long as I could remember, honestly. But again, she’s a people pleaser and would never admit to anyone that she wasn’t 100% comfortable, nor would she ever let anyone know that she and her family were anything less than perfect. 

“Medicinal? It’s homegrown.” Paddy offered her his cigarette. 

“No, thank you. I took a pill.” She said. 

“Oh, modern medicine. It is amazing…” 

As Paddy spoke offered it over to Ben, and I was truly stunned when Ben took it and brought it up to his mouth. He passed it back to Paddy after taking a hit. Truth be told, I wasn’t listening too much to the conversation, too busy watching Paddy as he smoked. The thoughts running through my mind were filthy. Oh, what I wouldn’t give to kiss him right now and have him shotgunning it into my mouth. 

I snapped out of my trance as Paddy leaned forward once again to pass the blunt over to Ben. But before he could grab it, I leaned forward and snatched it. I settled back in my seat with my eyes closed as I took a long drag from it. I slowly exhaled. When I opened my eyes, everyone was looking at me. 

Ben looked just plain shocked, Lousie looked mortified, Ciara seemed slightly annoyed and Paddy looked like a mix between proud and turned on. 

“Yn, what are you doing?” Louise asked. 

“Enjoying myself.” I replied, taking another hit. 

“When did you start smoking pot?” Ben asked. 

“You make it sound like I do it all the time. I just do it when I feel like it. And for the record, like 4 years ago.” I said before finally passing it back to Paddy.

“Who would have thought this perfect, sweet girl would have such a wild streak in her?” Paddy said, leaning back in his chair before taking a long drag. 

“She does seem to be full of surprises.” Ciara agreed, sending a worried shiver down my spine. 

“You don’t even know the half of it.” I said, feeling a surge of confidence. 

I continued to sip my drink and just listened, I had closed my eyes, letting the weed in my system and the warmth spreading through me from the cider relax me. That was until I felt like someone was staring at me. I opened my eyes and scanned the room, expecting to be met with Louise’s unapproving sideways gaze, but she wasn’t looking over here. My eyes then landed on Ciara, and if looks could kill, I would be six feet under and then some. But the moment she saw me catch her eye, she averted her gaze to Paddy as she looked at him lovingly and reached over for his hand. I tried to ignore the pang of jealousy that hit me as I reminded myself that in a few days, somehow, he would be all mine. 

“Well, I think it’s about time we retire for the night. Let Yn get some sleep.” Paddy said. 

“I think that’s a good idea.” Louise said. 

There were plans to go out on a hike the next day so we really should be getting to bed soon. 

“Oh, Yn, just a heads up so I don’t scare you. I do get up quite early to do the rounds with the animals. I’ll do my best to be quiet, though, so I don’t wake you.” Paddy said, sending me a subtle look. 

“Oh, Paddy, I am sure it would be okay if you slept in for once. I mean, we do have guests. I don’t think the animals’ schedules will be thrown off that badly. Besides, you wouldn’t want to accidentally wake her. He’s never quiet in the mornings.” She said the last bit, turning to me. 

“It’s alright, Paddy, I am intruding on your home. Please do what you need to, and don’t worry if you wake me up. I really don’t mind.” I said sweetly enough to let him know I got his hint but not enough to cause suspicion… I hope. 

I was gathering up my PJs and facewash to go get changed and ready for bed in the bathroom when Paddy came back downstairs. At first he paid me no mind as he went to lock the front door. I nearly jumped out of my skin when I turned around and found him standing right behind me. 

“Shit, Paddy, don’t sneak up on me like that.” I said with a small laugh. 

“Sorry, just needed to see you before I go back up there.” He said, reaching a hand up to cup my cheek. I immediately leaned into it. 

We stayed like that for a moment, in a comfortable silence, just reveling in the fact that we were back together once again. Slowly, he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to my lips. When he pulled away, he rested his forehead against mine. 

“God, this may be worse than just having the pictures to look at. Knowing you’re down here, so close, yet not being able to have you is absolutely tortuous.” He whispered. 

“Soon.” I said, pressing a quick kiss to his lips, “That’s what you told me, right?” 

He nodded, straightening back up to his full height, and dropped his hand, “That’s right.” 

“What time do you get up in the morning?” I asked. 

“Early. 5:30.” 

“Mhm… out in the shed?” I asked. 

“Sometimes…” 

“Well… hopefully you are tomorrow, preferably with a blanket at… let's say 5:45? Because that’s where I’ll be at that time…” I said sweetly. 

“I think I can manage that. Just know what you agreed to. You sure you’re going to be able to go on the hike later tomorrow after I’m done with you?” He asked. 

“Hmmm, we’ll see I guess.” I said giving him one last kiss, “You should get back upstairs before she gets suspicious.” I said with a sigh. 

“After you.” He said, stepping to the side and nodding me past him to go up first. 

I laughed, knowing he was just letting me go first to stare at my ass, not that I was complaining. When we got to the bathroom, I stopped and faced him. “Good night, Paddy.” 

“Good night, Yn.” He leaned over and kissed my forehead before passing me and heading up to his and Ciara’s room. 

Once he was out of sight, the door to the guest room opened, and my aunt stepped out. 

“What was that about?” She asked, confused. 

“What?” 

“I thought I heard Paddy out here… telling you goodnight.” “He did, he came downstairs to lock up, I was heading up here to change and wash my face.” I said confused by here questing what was happening. 

“Did… Did he, um, kiss you goodnight?” She asked, eyebrows knitted. 

“It was a quick peck on the forehead, no more than the one he gave us when we left Italy. What’s the big deal?” I asked, getting annoyed. 

“Isn’t that still a little weird?” 

“No, I think he’s just friendly. It doesn’t really bother me… Look its late, we were in the car all day I really just want to get to bed.” I said before slipping into the bathroom, not giving her any room to say anything else. 

When I got downstairs I set an alarm on my phone just in case I didn’t wake up when Paddy came down in the morning. Luckily I fell asleep quickly with the anticipation of being with Paddy come moring. 

When my eyes peeked open again I found Paddy sitting at the other end on the couch. He was lacing up his boots seeming completely unaware that I had woken up. That was until he spoke up. 

“Sorry, did I wake you?” He asked with a smirk. 

I stretched some and sat up, “Hm… maybe.” I smiled. 

“Make sure you turn your alarm off, darling, don’t want to wake anyone else up.” He said, leaning over to kiss me. 

I smiled into the kiss, “Should I just come with you now?” I whispered. 

“I was hoping you would.” He said, pulling back and standing up. 

He offered me his hand and I took it. I was secretly hoping my hair wasn’t a complete mess as I slipped on my shoes and followed Paddy outside. The sun hadn’t even risen yet as he led me through the yard, to one of the doors of the shed. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a leather cord that was attached to one of his belt loops on one end and had a set of keys on the other. He unlocked the door before gesturing me in. When he stepped in he shut the door before moving to lay down the blanket on top of the straw-covered floor. 

“Sorry, it’s not the fanciest.” He said, turning to look at me. 

“I don’t care.” I said, immediately closing the distance between us and kissing him. 

His response to the kiss was instantaneous as he took control and backed me up to the side wall. My back hit the rough bricks, but I couldn’t find it in me to care. 

“I’ve missed you darling… missed this with you.” He said between kisses. 

“Take me, Paddy, please.” I begged as he began working his way down my jawline to my neck. I had been dreaming of this moment ever since we left Italy. 

“So eager.” He mumbled against the hickey he was making on my collar bone. 

Part of me was worried it would be seen by the others, part of me didn’t care, but secretly the majority of me wanted them all to see it. I wanted them all to know I was his… especially Ciara. 

Next thing I knew, he was moving us away from the wall and over to where he had laid out the blanket. I kneeled down, bringing Paddy down with me. 

“Wait, what the fuck?” I asked, feeling something weird under my ass. 

I grabbed it through the blanket and found it was a lock. 

“What’s this for? Is it like some secret sex dungeon? Or are you secretly like a serial killer or something?” I teased. 

He let out a small laugh, “It’s nothing. Promise. And do you really think I could be a serial killer?” 

“I don’t know, you may look cute, all covered in blood, chasing me down…” I said, only half joking. 

“What is wrong with you?” Paddy asked in amusement as he shook his head, smiling. 

“Okay… one of my biggest crushes is Billy from Scream, okay? Just something about fucking with their victims before killing them, it’s kinda hot. I know that’s like so fucked up, but I can’t help it! Ever since I watched the movie at like 15, I was hooked, and it never went away…” I admitted. 

“That’s so fucked up, Yn. He killed people…tsk tsk.” He said, shaking his head but still smiling. 

“I know! I know, I can’t help it though.” I said blushing slightly. 

“Hmmm… so you like serial killers then?” He teased. “I mean, I guess in theory.” I said. 

“And in practice.” He said, tone suddenly changing to be much more serious.

On the surface I was confused but something deep down in me understood. 

“Paddy… what do you mean?” 

“I think you’ve already connected the dots… I told you, you wouldn’t be leaving… and I meant it. Your aunt and uncle won’t be either… I want you to be by my side when it happens… you can even help if you want to. Or, you can let me take care of it, let me free you from them… you said you were mine, didn’t you?��� He asked, gently caressing my cheek. 

I nodded immediately, “I’m yours Paddy. Please, free me.” 

I pulled him back down to kiss me. He groaned into the kiss, gripping the back of my head to pull me closer. Then in one swift motion he flipped us so that I was straddling his waist. I could feel his hard cock, begging to be freed from his jeans underneath me. I grinded my hips down onto it and let out a soft moan as his bulge bumped up against my clit. 

His hands went to my hips, slipping up under my sleep shirt. It raised up exposing the fact that I hadn’t worn any bottoms. 

“No panties, sleeping on my couch? You trying to drive me crazy?” He asked. 

“Hm… maybe.” I said, pulling away and reaching down to undo his belt.  

I unzipped his pants and he helped me pull them down along with his underwear just enough to free his cock. 

I lifted myself up on my knees and reached down to line him up with my entrance, but he stopped me. 

“Wait, darling.” He said, reaching down into his pocket that had been shoved down. He pulled out a condom and used his teeth to open it before quickly putting it on. 

“There we go, don’t want to risk anything, do we?” He said, grabbing my hips once again. 

He guided me down onto his cock slowly. I let out a loud moan as he stretched me open slowly. Once he bottomed out I sat there for a moment to get reacquainted with the size of him. 

“As much as I love the pretty sounds you make, love, I’m going to need you to keep it down. Okay? Don’t want the wife hearing you now, do we?” He asked. 

I shook my head. Then he gave my hips a gentle squeeze before guiding me to move up and down on his cock. I had to bite my lip to keep from moaning. One of my hands stayed on his chest to steady myself, and the other went down to my clit. 

My pace was matching his pace, slow circles just enough to drive me crazy as the pressure slowly began to build. 

“You’re getting close, aren’t you, darling?” He said. 

“Yeah,” I sighed out, subconsciously speeding up my pace on my clit. Paddy picked up his pace as well, sending me even faster to my climax. 

“Fuck, darling… you look so good, so fucking good, on my cock like that.” He said, and I knew by the way his cock twitched inside of me he was getting close as well. 

“Paddy, shit. I’m…” Before I could finish my sentence, my walls were clutching onto him as I came. 

“Damn it, love…” Paddy groaned as he came as well. 

Honestly, I was cursing that condom from preventing me from feeling him shoot his cum deep inside of me. But I knew it was for the better. We were already taking so many risks together we couldn’t afford to be that risky… not right now at least. 

We both caught our breaths and after a moment I went to lift myself up, but Paddy stopped me. 

“Not yet, just come here, darling.” He said pulling me down to lay on top of him. 

I laid down gently, resting my head as best I could onto his chest. 

“I fucking missed you, darling, and your perfect pussy… it truly was made for me, wasn’t it? All of you was made for me.” He said, rubbing his hand up and down my back. 

“Only you, Paddy. I want to help kill them. All of them… I just have two conditions.” I said. 

“What are they?” 

“I get Anges and… I get to kill Ciara.” I said, turning my head to look at him. 

“Who said anything about killing her?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“I did. I said I am yours, if that’s true, then you don’t need her anymore. She needs to go too.” I said simply. 

He smiled evilly, “I like your logic, dear… you have yourself a deal.” 

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