#I felt like it watered him down a little bit

[a-casxandra]

❝𝐁𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐫.❞

Caleb as your boyfriend x you as non-mc, birthday angst.

The bass thumped through the walls of the club, the air thick with perfume, alcohol, and neon lights. People danced like nothing in the world could touch them. But you sat stiffly in the booth, surrounded by people who belonged to a life you didn’t quite fit in.

Caleb’s birthday.

You’d dressed up. Spent an hour doing your makeup. Wore the dress he once said he liked—back when he still said things like that.

You hadn’t known MC would be there.

She was dazzling tonight, even if her lipstick was a little smudged and her laugh too loud from the alcohol. She was everything you weren't—familiar to Caleb, easy to be around. A shared history written in inside jokes and old stories.

She sat on his left. You, his girlfriend, on the right. But somehow, it felt like you were always outside the picture frame.

"Pipsqueak, I told you not to wear skirts—people are gonna stare at you at this point." Caleb said it teasingly to MC, pulling off his jacket and draping it over her lap like it was second nature. Like her comfort was instinct. Like you weren’t even there.

You stared down at your lap. At your own bare thighs, goosebumps rising from the cold. You wore a dress too. But he hadn’t even glanced your way.

Gideon caught it. Always did. He looked at you like he understood. Like he pitied you. He slipped his jacket off and offered it across the table.

You shook your head quickly. ��I’m fine.”

But Gideon just smiled softly and insisted. “If my girlfriend were here, she’d be proud of me.”

You took it. Grateful, but humiliated.

Caleb didn’t even notice.

The night dragged on. You didn’t drink. Didn’t dance. You watched Caleb feed MC water between shots, steady her when she tripped in her heels, laugh when she whispered something in his ear.

You should’ve been used to this by now.

You were always understanding.

You knew they had a past.

But it didn’t stop the slow, aching stretch in your chest every time his eyes crinkled with laughter that wasn’t meant for you.

You followed them out to the car. Gideon had gone home already. MC stumbled toward the passenger seat, giggling about something only Caleb could hear. You reached for the handle—just a second too late.

She beat you to it, crawling in and immediately passing out. You looked at Caleb, hoping—praying—he would tell her to switch. That he'd remember you were here, too.

But instead, he just looked at you like this was normal. Like it was okay. “I hope you don’t mind sitting in the backseat instead.”

You stared at him. The man you loved. The man who hadn’t touched your hand once all night. “…Yeah,” you murmured. “It’s fine.”

You sat behind them the whole ride, like a stranger hitching a ride in her own relationship.

Caleb kept glancing at her—tucking her hair back gently, adjusting her skirt when it rode up, smiling softly at her nonsense muttering.

And you watched.

Watched and understood.

Because you knew that look.

It wasn’t lust. It wasn’t friendship.

It was tenderness. That raw, unguarded kind that you hadn’t seen from him in months. Maybe never.

You bit your lip hard enough to taste metal.

You weren’t even mad. You were just… tired.

Tired of being the afterthought.

Tired of being on the outside looking in on your own relationship.

When you got home, at Caleb's apartment. he carried MC to the guest room and tucked her in. Like a scene from a romance film.

You went to bed alone.

He didn’t even come to check on you.

And that night, you curled up on your side, arms wrapped around your own body, and whispered into the dark: “Just once more. I wouldn’t mind being burned if it means keeping you.”

But deep down, you knew the truth.

𝙃𝙚 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙖𝙬 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙖𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙛𝙞𝙧𝙚.

𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠𝙗𝙪𝙧𝙣𝙚𝙧.

[rafayelxsylusho]

HAIIIII 💕💕🫶🫶 I'm a big fan of your works!! ^⁠_⁠^

I have this like scenario in my head where lads men are like... Fathers and like their children ask them what's the noise they heard last night coming from their parents bedroom and see how they'll try to cover it up HEHEHEHHEHEHEH it will mean the world to me if you'll write it! Thats all mwahhhh stay slay queen 💅💅💅 period.

Lol. I loved this idea.

I hope you like it! ❤️❤️

Rafayel/Caleb/Zayne/Sylus/Xavier

You looked at your daughter, she peeked up at you from beneath long, dark lashes. She sat across from you at the breakfast table, picking at her pancakes with a fork, you could see the worry etched on her beautiful face.

"Pearl, what's wrong, sweetheart?" you asked setting your own fork down and giving her your full attention. Your heart clenched at the sight of her little face scrunched up.

Pearl shrugged one small shoulder, she stabbed another piece of syrupy pancake and poked it around her plate before finally speaking. "Daddy was mad at you last night...because of the wet bed," she mumbled, her bottom lip trembling slightly.

"What do you mean baby?"

The little girl looked down at her plate, still fiddling with the cooling pancake. After a moment of hesitation, she glanced back up at you with wide, innocent eyes.

"Well... last night... I heard Daddy....he said... he said you made a big mess and were being a dirty girl for wetting the bed" she explained, her little brows pinching together.

You felt the heat of embarrassment rising up your neck, flaring across your cheeks as you heard Rafayel choke and sputter on his breakfast. Quickly, you raised a hand to cover your burning face, rubbing at it as if you could somehow erase the awkwardness of the moment.

"Oh, sweetie... it wasn't like that at all. I just accidentally dropped a glass of water on the bed last night, that's all. It was a silly mistake, daddy was just being a bit dramatic"

As you spoke, you glanced over at Rafayel, expecting him to chime in and back up your explanation to your daughter. However, you quickly realized that he must have slipped away from the kitchen table while you were distracted, leaving you to handle this conversation alone.

Frowning slightly, you listened as his muffled laughter filtered in from somewhere else in the apartment.

Under your breath, you muttered, "That damn fish..."

"Mommy, when can I meet grandpa?"

You blinked in confusion at your daughter's words, your attention focused on the little girl standing before you. She was the spitting image of Caleb, with the same deep purple eyes and messy brown hair.

"Piper, sweetheart, I think you might be confused, your grandparents are in heaven remember?"

But mommy I heard you last night in your room when you were with daddy, you said... Yes daddy I missed you and it sounded like you were crying"

"Did she...?" you stammered, turning to face Caleb with shock.

He draped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer. "Looks like we've got a little eavesdropper on our hands," he teased, nodding towards Piper.

You couldn't help but let out a nervous giggle, burying your burning face against Caleb's chest. Leave it to your daughter to catch you in a compromising moment with her father.

"Oh, um, Piper sweetie, I think I might have been dreaming," you stammered, feeling mortified. "Mommy was just... just talking in her sleep. You know how sometimes our minds play tricks on us?"

Caleb couldn't hold it in any longer. He turned to you, his face splitting into a wide grin. "Maybe you were just having a very vivid dream."

"Daddy, were you having a vi...vidid dream too?" Piper asked looking between the two of you with curious eyes.

"..."

"How about we have a family movie night?" Caleb suggested as he reached out to scoop Piper up into his arms "We can make popcorn and everything. Whaddya say, squirt?"

Piper's face lit up with a huge grin, her earlier confusion forgotten. "Yay! Can I have a big bucket?"

"Mommy, you said we're not supposed to run inside the house, right?"

You glanced down at your youngest child, agreeing with him. "That's correct, sweetie. Running inside can be very dangerous"

However, before you could elaborate further on the importance of this house rule, Eira's next question caught you completely off guard. The little boy's brows furrowed slightly as he processed his next thought.

Then, with all the blunt honesty of a 5-year-old, Eira asked, "But then why were you and Daddy running inside the bathroom? I heard you scream, Mommy."

You couldn't help but blush as you heard Eira's innocent yet incredibly embarrassing question. Your mind raced, trying to come up with a suitable explanation, but before you could say another word, Alba's, your teenage daughter, drink went flying out of her mouth, drenching a surprised Zayne's face with lemonade.

Zayne blinked, lemonade dripping down his chin as he turned to you. He wiped his face with the back of his hand, leaving a sticky trail on his cheek. Alba looked mortified, her eyes wide and her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

Zayne, ever the helpful husband, chuckled and gave you a small, encouraging nod, leaving you to handle this situation.

Trying to keep a straight face, you turned to Eira and explained, "Well sweetie, sometimes... sometimes grown ups have special reasons for breaking the rules. Like when it's an emergency, or..." You paused, searching for the right words. "Or when they're just feeling really... enthusiastic." You couldn't help but sneak another glance at Zayne, who was now trying really hard not to laugh.

Alba, meanwhile, had her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide with shock and a hint of disgust. "Ew, Mom! I don't need to know about your and Dad's 'special reasons'!"

"Perhaps we should have a more... private discussion about the birds and bees later, hmm?" Zayne said.

"Alright, alright, no more questions! Let's go get some ice cream and forget this ever happened, deal?" you said, hoping to steer the conversation and your children's imagination back to safer territory.

"Sy, can you come with me? The twins seem to be up to something and I'm not sure what it is."

"Alright, you two little troublemakers. What are you whispering about over here, hmm?" Sylus asks, his deep voice tinged with a playful edge. He crouches down to their level, studying their guilty expressions.

Esme and Jasper exchange a glance, knowing they've been caught. Eventually Esme speaks up "Well, we want to know if you can eat other animals besides cows, fish and chicken."

Crouching down next to Sylus, you tilt your head questioningly. "Why do you ask, baby?"

Jasper chimes in "Well, we don't like that daddy is eating cats."

Sylus raises an eyebrow, glancing at you with surprise before turning his attention back to the twins. He keeps his tone light and gentle as he explains. "Daddy doesn't eat cats or any other pets. That's not a type of food."

"But daddy", Esme say, her small face scrunched in confusion. "Last night you said you were going to eat a whoooole kitten."

Jasper nods eagerly in agreement "Yes, you said... 'I'm gonna eat you whole kitten" the way he mocks Sylus's voice is amazing.

You and Sylus exchange a quick glance, realizing the humorous but inaccurate context your innocent twins have taken from his comment. Sylus clears his throat, trying to suppress a smirk as he addresses their misunderstanding. "Oh, my little gems, I think there might be a tiny mix up. When I said that, I didn't mean I was going to eat a real kitten. Mommy, could you help me explain it to them better? I don't want my two little darlings worrying about kittens being harmed."

You nod, trying desperately to hold back the fit of laughter threatening to spill from your lips at the absurd and humorous misunderstanding your twins have created. Sylus, sensing you won't be able to help, decides to take a different approach to set their young minds at ease.

"How about you both help me fix Mephisto?" Sylus suggests, his voice taking on a conspiratorial tone. "He needs new batteries and I could really use your help."

Esme and Jasper's eyes widen with excitement at the prospect of assisting their father. They nod eagerly, the worry about kittens being eaten already forgotten.

"Can we really help, Daddy?" Esme asks, her earlier distress replaced with childlike enthusiasm.

"Yes, of course you can!" Sylus says with a warm smile. "But first, let's make sure we all understand that Daddy doesn't eat kittens or any other pets, okay?

"Mommy were you training with daddy last night?"

The living room fell silent for a moment, even Fatso, the fat cat lounging on the windowsill, paused his grooming to twitch an ear in your direction.

Aster looked up at you with those big, innocent blue eyes that were so much like his father's. He swung his little legs back and forth, his tiny sneakers dangling above the plush carpet as he perched on the armchair. The toy rocket ship he had been playing with seconds before now lay forgotten in his lap

"No honey, why do you ask?"

"Well, Mommy..." Aster began, his little voice taking on a tone of confidentiality. "I heard some weird noises coming from your room last night. Like, uh..." He paused, scrunched up his button nose, and then blurted out, "Like Daddy was hurting you and then you asked him to do it harder."

Xavier felt the color drain from his face, his fair skin turning a shade paler than usual. He sat up straight, all traces of his earlier languidness vanishing. He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again, seemingly at a loss for words.

Meanwhile, Aster just looked back and forth between you and his father. He didn't understand the sudden tension in the room, the way his parents had both gone still and quiet at his words. He tilted his head to the side, his blonde curls falling over one shoulder as he studied your face.

"Did I say something wrong, Mommy?" Aster asked, his voice small and uncertain.

"No sweetie...Sometimes, when Daddy and I are playing a new video game together at night, we get so excited and into it that we make loud noises. It's not because Daddy is hurting me, but because we're both having so much fun and cheering on our characters."

"Ok"

"And when I said for Daddy to do it harder, I just meant I wanted him to help his character win the game faster. It's like when you're playing with your toys and you want to make them run really fast or jump really high."

Xavier couldn't help but smile as he watched his little boy nod in understanding, his earlier confusion and worry melting away as he went back to playing with his toy rocket ship, blasting off imaginary enemies with a joyful "Pew pew!"

Feeling emboldened by your quick thinking, Xavier leaned in close to you and lowered his voice to a stage whisper, not wanting Aster to overhear, and said, "I have a few more new video games we can play tonight"

He let out a soft, playful chuckle, his eyes lingering on your face as he waited for your reaction. Just as he was about to say something else, he felt a sharp sting on his upper arm and looked down to see your hand connected to it.

"Ow!" he yelped, rubbing the reddening skin where you had slapped him. "What was that for?"

[twistedsistas-stuff]

Ride Along

Elijah “Smoke” Moore X Reader

Req @themindfulwriter16

Warnings smut as usual

Smoke ain’t had no damn business up on a beast like that.

That horse was wild-blooded, eyes white like it seen ghosts, breath cuttin through the air like a blade. And Smoke? All city-swagger and bad knees from the war, holdin the reins like they was a mic cord. No, he ain’t belong out here—out where the dirt talk back and the sky stretch so wide it make a man feel small.

But Stack and Sammie, they had dreams bigger than bruised knuckles and blood money. Said they was done breakin they backs for men who ain’t never learned to say thank you. Said the land could be theirs, if they just held on tight enough.

So when they got discharged, they took what lil they had and cracked open a juke down by the bayou. Not nothin big—just tin roof, creakin floorboards, and neon that hummed like it was prayin. Sold whiskey out the back, let the music bleed into the soil. Every dollar made went into the farm. Horses. Cows. Some loud-ass goats and them damn sheep Stack kept losin in the woods.

Smoke ain’t never wanted none of it. Said he preferred concrete and the sound of a train track hummin. But blood was blood. And when Stack pressed that deed in his hand, eyes all soft behind the storm, Smoke just nodded.

Ain’t like he had anywhere else to be.

He ain’t know how the hell they learned to ride. Or when

Hell, he’d grew up in the same house, drank the same well water, slept on the same porch when the lights got cut. But now they sittin pretty on them horses like they was born in saddles, like they ain’t used to the same hard floors and broken streetlights.

Smoke squinted up at Stack, perched easy like a damn cowboy, reins loose in his fingers. Sammie was beside him, leanin forward just enough to pet his horse’s neck, grinnin like he already knew Smoke was ‘bout to make a fool of hisself.

Smoke wiped sweat off his brow and muttered, “Y’all just picked this up one day? “Watching farmhands or somethin?”

Stack chuckled, low and syrupy. “Ain’t no rocket science, Smoke. You just gotta grab the saddle horn, plant your foot in the stirrup, and swing on up. Like this—watch.”

He demonstrated slow, smooth, swingin up and settlin back like the saddle missed him.

Sammie added, “Don’t lean too far forward or you’ll spook him. Keep your weight even, keep calm. Horses feel that fear, Smoke.”

“Fear?” Smoke snorted. “Boy, I been in Baghdad. A damn horse don’t scare me.”

“Alright then,” Stack said, gesturing. “Show us.”

Smoke grabbed hold of the saddle, grumbled under his breath, and stuck his boot in the stirrup. Tried to swing his leg over just like Stack showed him—but soon as he did, that horse flinched like it felt his city soul. Reared just a lil, enough to twist Smoke sideways, off balance.

“Shit—”

Next thing, he on the dirt. Flat on his back, hat rolled off, elbow scraped.

“God damn it!”

Sammie damn near fell off his own horse laughin, mouth wide, hands slappin the saddle. “You alright, unk?” he wheezed through the laughter. “You looked like a cat tryna jump a fence and forgot how legs work.”

Stack tried to hold it in, but a deep chuckle broke out his chest. “You went up like a prayer and came down like a curse.”

Smoke rolled over, dust in his mouth, eyes squintin mean. “Y’all think this funny, huh?”

“Little bit,” Sammie said, still grinnin, horse side-steppin like it was in on the joke too. “Want me to walk you through it slower? Like… kindergarten slow?”

“Walk yo ass on into traffic,” Smoke spat, getting up, dustin off. “Ain’t no damn horse gon punk me.”

He was gone learn how to ride that damn horse.

Come nightfall, the house was still.

Crickets sang steady outside the screen door, and the moon hung low and heavy like it was watchin. Dinner long done, Sammie knocked out on the couch with his mouth open, some old gospel record hissin low in the corner. Stack was in the back room snorin just enough to shake the walls.

But Smoke couldn’t rest.

He rolled onto his side, then his back, then onto his stomach. Cussed under his breath. That damn horse kept runnin laps in his head, eyes wild, breathin like a demon. He threw the sheet off his chest and sat up on the edge of the bed, bones crackin. Ran a hand down his face and sighed long.

Then he stood.

Took his time dressin quiet in the dark. Slid on his old jeans, faded at the knees. Tucked in a soft white tee, pulled on his boots slow, like if he moved too fast the doubt might catch up to him. Snatched his flannel off the back of the chair, buttoned it halfway, and stepped out into the night like it owed him answers.

The horse was still in the pen, black and gleamin under the moonlight, breath mistin in the cool air. Smoke climbed the fence and landed soft. He walked up, calm like Stack said, talkin low.

“Ain’t no demon,” he muttered. “Just muscle and bone. Same as me.”

He tried once—got halfway up before the horse kicked back.

Tried again—this time the saddle twisted and dumped him straight onto his ass.

He groaned, rolled, dusted off, cursed loud.

Then tried again.

Each time, the horse bucked, shifted, pushed him back. But he kept gettin up. Boots heavy in the dirt. Mouth runnin curses in every direction. The loud brays and hoof claps started echoing off the trees.

Inside, Stack groaned.

Rolled over, pulled a pillow over his head like it could shut out the world. Just like he used to do when the ringing in his ears got too sharp after a roadside bomb in Mosul. But the noise kept on.

Another curse. Another neigh. A thud.

Bang.

The screen door slammed loud as Stack stormed out. No words needed.

Sammie shot upright on the couch, chest tight. He didn’t ask no questions—just grabbed his slides and followed, half-asleep but already knowin. That bang was enough. Family didn’t need to speak when something was goin down.

Outside, Smoke was breathin hard, sittin in the dirt again. Stack was already on him.

“The fuck you doin out here in the ass crack of the night?” he barked.

Smoke groaned, voice tight. “I can’t get it, Stack. I can’t—” He hit the dirt with his fist. “Son of a bitch got it out for me.”

Stack stood quiet a second, lookin at his big brother sittin there breathin heavy like a dog left in the street. He didn’t laugh. Didn’t throw it back in his face.

Just walked forward. Reached out a hand.

“C’mere.”

Smoke hesitated, then slapped his palm into Stack’s, let him haul him up off the ground like they was kids again.

Stack dusted him off once, then gave him a look hard enough to cut through sweat and shame. “You ain’t gon learn like that, Smoke. Gon fuck around and break somethin.”

Smoke waved him off. “I’m fine.”

“You ain’t. Not like that. Tryna ride like you fight. Grit ain’t all it take. Need rhythm. Patience.” Stack stepped close, voice low now. “We’ll ride out tomorrow.”

He paused.

“I got somebody gon teach you. Better than me.”

Smoke blinked. “Who?”

“You’ll see. But for now? C’mon inside. Get some rest.”

Sammie stood quiet just a few feet back, arms crossed, watchin. He didn’t say nothin either.

And together, they walked back toward the porch, the moon stretchin shadows behind them, the horse watchin quiet as a sentinel.

They didn’t know you like that. Not back then.

Not really.

Smoke and Stack knew your daddy more than they knew you. Old man kept ’em busy when they first came home—fresh out the service, still wearin stiffness in their shoulders, still sleepin with one eye open. He let ’em do some work around the land—fixin fence posts, mendin the barn roof, tillin up red dirt.

That was before they had a farm of their own. Before the juke. Before the years folded over.

You was always there, movin quiet in the background. Tending your flowers with them soft, steady hands. Barely said a word. Never smiled long enough for it to stick. Just nodded polite when they passed. The kind of girl the breeze seemed to bend around, not through.

But every so often, you’d show up with a tray of lemonade—beads of sweat on the glass, your eyes low under the brim of that worn straw hat.

“Lemonade,” you’d say, soft as cotton.

And that’d be it.

Smoke would go still, like he forgot how to breathe. Big, battle-worn man and all, and couldn’t even make his mouth work right.

Stack used to clown him hard for it.

“Look at you,” he’d grin, tossin a wrench from hand to hand. “Big ol’ strong man actin like a boy in the pews starin at the preacher’s daughter.”

“Shut up,” Smoke’d grumble.

“Nah, I mean it,” Stack laughed. “You always been like that. Seen you square up with folks twice your size, walk through hell in boots two sizes too tight—but a woman look your way and you forget your name.”

“Shut up, Stack.”

But he wasn’t wrong.

Smoke didn’t know how to talk to you. Couldn’t make the words sit right in his throat.

So you did it for him.

Late afternoon sun melting across the fields. The scent of honeysuckle thick in the air. Stack’s down at the truck bed sortin tools. Smoke’s shirt clings to his back as he leans on the fence. You walk up slow, same quiet you always carry, lemonade tray in your hands.

“You always watch folk this hard?” you ask, not lookin at him.

Smoke straightens up like you caught him stealin.

“Nah,” he says, throat dry. “Just thinkin.”

“You think loud.”

You pass him a glass. Your fingers brush, and he almost drops it.

“Thank you,” he says low.

You nod, but don’t leave. Don’t say much either. Just sip your own drink and lean on the fence beside him, your shoulder close enough to feel the heat.

“You don’t talk much, do you?” he asks.

“I talk. Just not to folks that ain’t worth talkin to.”

He looks at you then—really looks.

And for the first time, you look back. Steady. Like you see him. Like you always had.

He didn’t know it yet. But Stack had plans.

And you? You was waitin. Flowers still bloomin. Lemonade still cold. But your hands weren’t soft no more. Not after the years.

And the woman you became… was not the girl he remembered.

Sun wasn’t even broke through the trees yet when Stack came stompin through the house like a man on a mission.

“Get up.”

He kicked at the foot of the couch first. Sammie grunted, rollin over, one eye open and annoyed. Stack didn’t slow. He moved on to the back room.

“Smoke.”

Smoke groaned from under the blanket, voice rough with sleep and soreness. “Hell you want?”

“You shoulda gone to sleep ’stead of fuckin with that horse all night. Now get your ass up.”

He ripped the cover clean off him. Smoke cursed, squintin against the light from the hallway.

“I’m up, dammit. I’m up.”

Stack was already walkin out.

By the time they made it outside, the air still held that blue-gray chill, dew stickin to boots. Stack was already behind the wheel of the old pickup, engine coughin like it had a pack-a-day habit. Sammie slid in the backseat, hoodie pulled up, still half-asleep. Smoke climbed in passenger side, arms crossed tight over his chest.

They rode in silence for a good minute, tires crunchin over gravel, the radio hummin nothin but static. Then Smoke shifted.

“Where we goin?”

Stack didn’t even glance his way. “Somewhere familiar.”

Smoke squinted, lookin out at the road stretchin ahead. “The hell does that mean?”

Stack kept his hand on the wheel, steady. “You’ll see.”

Sammie popped his head up from the back. “Damn, you actin like we headed to a funeral.”

“Might be his pride’s,” Stack muttered.

Sammie laughed.

Smoke didn’t. “Why you talkin in riddles? I thought you was gon teach me.”

“I was,” Stack said, takin a slow turn off the main road. “Then I remembered I ain’t got the patience to deal with your stubborn ass.”

“So where we goin then?”

“Like I said. Somewhere familiar.”

Sammie leaned forward, lookin past his cousin to the road.

“Ain’t this near…?”

Stack just smirked.

Smoke turned slow, brows furrowed, heart beatin a little harder now.

“Nah,” he said. “Ain’t no way.”

But the driveway told the truth. The old wooden post, the field stretchin wide and open, flowers dottin the side like they always had. House sittin proud at the top of the hill. Porch swing swayin in the breeze.

Smoke swallowed hard.

“You ain’t…”

“Oh, I did,” Stack said, killin the engine. “You ain’t the only one remember her.”

Sammie grinned, leanin back. “Man, this gon be good.”

And from the porch, a figure stepped out slow. Mornin light hittin her face just enough.

Smoke sat real still. Didn’t say a word. Didn’t have to.

You was already lookin dead at him.

Stack leaned back against the wheel, elbow hangin out. Sammie sat up taller in the back, both of them lookin toward the porch like they was sittin front row at the picture show.

You stepped out quiet, like the house opened its mouth and let you spill from it. Sun lit you up gold—hair back in a scarf, jeans worn soft, tank top tight at the waist. Ain’t no makeup on your face, and you didn’t need a drop.

Stack let out a low whistle. “Lord have mercy…”

Sammie grinned wide. “That woman somethin serious.”

“She always been. Just ain’t never looked at you.”

Sammie laughed, slapped the seat. “Damn.”

But Smoke ain’t said a thing. Couldn’t. His whole body’d gone still like somebody hit pause. Eyes trailin up your frame like he was scared to blink and miss a piece. His throat worked hard. You met his gaze then—slow, deliberate—and he felt his heart knock against his ribs like it was tryin to get loose.

He reached up, fingers stiff, loosening the tie that Stack made him wear—said it might help his chances. Then he pulled off his hat, held it low, and tipped it toward you.

You didn’t smile.

Not yet.

You just started walkin down the porch steps, easy, like you had all the time in the world.

“Boy,” Sammie whispered, “she comin to you. You gon sit there lookin dumb?”

Stack chuckled, low and mean. “Ain’t no helpin that. He stuck.”

“You better say somethin,” Sammie hissed. “She right there—”

But you was already standin by the passenger side, lookin at him like he was still that quiet boy leanin on a fence with lemonade sweatin in his hand.

“You still don’t talk much,” you said, voice like warm rain.

Smoke blinked.

“Hey,” he managed. “Hey, you.”

You grinned, soft and sly. “That all I get after all this time? Just hey you?”

He scratched the back of his neck. “I—uh—”

You leaned closer, elbow restin on the door frame. “Don’t hurt yourself now.”

Sammie nearly folded laughin in the backseat.

Stack slapped the dashboard. “Damn, she eatin you up.”

You turned your head just a bit, voice sharper now—but playful. “Y’all gon sit there or come see these horses?”

“Yes ma’am , Boss Lady,” Sammie said, already pushin the door open.

“Right behind you,” Stack added with a grin, slappin Smoke’s arm hard. “Come on, Romeo.”

Smoke climbed out slow, hands wiped nervous on his jeans, still starin like he couldn’t quite believe you was real and standin this close.

You walked ahead, hips swayin, not even lookin back. And for the first time in a long, long while Smoke followed. Barn smelled like sweat and hay and sweet feed. Sun leaked in through the cracks high up, cuttin gold lines across the floorboards.

You walked ahead of them, steps sure, every movement steady like you knew every creak and knot in that old wood. The boys followed like schoolchildren. Stack whistled low when he caught sight of the mare you led out—a tall, dark roan with fire in her eyes.

“She’s a beaut,” he muttered.

You didn’t respond—just reached up, stroked the horse’s neck gentle. “This one’s name’s Mercy.”

Smoke swallowed hard.

Figures.

You turned, hand on your hip. “Who ridin?”

Stack and Sammie both turned their heads in unison.

Smoke damn near blushed.

“C’mon, cowboy,” you said, that smile tugging at your lips, teasing just behind your tone. “You ain’t scared, is you?”

Smoke stepped forward, quiet, hat still in hand. “Just cautious.”

“Good,” you said. “Horse can feel that. You come at her nervous, she’ll throw you without a second thought.”

You patted the saddle once, then crooked your finger.

“Come here.”

He did.

Close enough to smell the sun on your skin and the lilac oil in your scarf. You moved behind him without another word. Laid your hands right on his hips.

“First, don’t try and muscle your way up. Use rhythm, not fight. Like dancin.”

“Dancin?” he asked, stiff as a plank.

You leaned up, whispered near his ear, “You heard what I said.”

Stack from the other end of the barn: “Ooooo, she said dance, Smoke!”

Sammie hollered. “She gon have him two-steppin right into them stirrups.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t stop. Hands glided down the backs of his thighs, tappin where to bend. You grabbed his hand and placed it on the saddle horn.

“Now. One foot here, grab up here, swing light.”

Smoke tried.

Failed.

Hard.

Boot caught, leg flailed, and he slid back down with a grunt.

Stack leaned on the barn post, laughin so hard he had to wipe tears.

“Boy, that horse just looked at you like really?”

Smoke got up, dustin himself off, cheeks red.

You held out your hand again, steady. “Again.”

He took it.

Failed again.

This time his knee near buckled and he cursed loud, stomping away from the horse in frustration.

You clicked your tongue. “You done already?”

“No,” he gritted.

“Then come on.”

He tried again.

And again.

And again.

Sweat beading at his neck, shirt clingin to his back. You never left his side. Every time he got close, your hand was there—on his shoulder, his hip, the small of his back—guiding, correcting, steadyin.

Finally—finally—he swung up, legs awkward but holdin. Horse shifted beneath him, but he stayed on.

He looked down at you like he ain’t know if he’d passed a test or fallen into a dream.

You reached up and touched his ankle, eyes trailing up.

“See?” you said, voice low. “Told you. Just rhythm.”

Sammie damn near clapped.

Stack whistled. “I’ll be damned. Man stayed on.”

Smoke let out a shaky breath. “Ain’t easy.”

You smiled.

“Nothin worth it ever is.”

You stepped back, eyes on the roan. “Think you can ride alone?”

Smoke looked down from the saddle, squinting. His eyes slid to Stack, who was already leaning over with his hand on his knee, laughing like it was the funniest thing he seen all year.

“Boy lookin at you like you got the answers,” Stack wheezed. “Hell, he barely know how to hold the reins.”

You rolled your eyes, looked toward Sammie instead. “You ridin or just talkin?”

Sammie stood taller, smile lazy. “I’m ridin, Miss Lady. You just say the word.”

You pointed with your chin. “Take Rose. She know your rhythm already.”

He tipped his head, easy. “Yes ma’am.”

Then you glanced toward Stack. “And you? Get on Grace. She’ll buck if you pull too hard.”

“I don’t pull,” he muttered, already headed for the stall. “I guide.”

That made you smile, just a little.

When you turned back, Smoke was still perched awkward on the saddle, holdin onto the horn like it might save his life. His hat shadowed his eyes, but his gaze hadn’t left you.

You stepped closer, just enough for your voice to carry quiet. “Mind if I join you, Elijah?”

And Lord.

He ain’t know what did it.

The sound of his name in your mouth, soft and sure. The golden slant of morning behind you makin your skin shine like honey. Or the fact that his body hadn’t slept since last night and everything felt like a dream. But he couldn’t speak.

He just nodded.

You climbed up easy, one leg swung over, settling behind him like you belonged there. Your arms wrapped around his waist, tight for a second, then relaxed.

From the fence, Stack elbowed Sammie. “Look at ‘em.”

Sammie whistled low. “That boy done got himself a backseat angel.”

You ignored them. Leaned in, lips near Smoke’s ear. “Ain’t about control. You still gotta lead—but with a looser hand. Tighten up when the time’s right.”

He nodded. Your breath warm on his neck, hands restin light on his belly, made it hard to focus.

You helped him nudge the mare forward. She stepped slow, steady out the barn, hooves thunking soft against dirt.

Stack hollered, “Where was all this help when I was learnin?”

Smoke glanced over his shoulder, squintin. “She liked me better.”

Sammie cracked up. “Tender as a chicken.”

Smoke just waved ‘em off, grinnin. “Okay, okay—”

You rolled your eyes but let the smile tug at the corner of your mouth.

The four of y’all rode slow around the ranch—just wide enough to taste the wind and smell the dew still clingin to the grass. Eventually, you slid off, letting Smoke steer solo.

You hung back with Sammie, talkin low.

“He tryin,” Sammie said, laughing. “Gotta give him that.”

“He doin better than y’all did,” you said. “Didn’t have to drag him by the belt like I did Stack.”

Sammie raised a brow. “You always this sharp?”

“Only when men talk slick.”

That got a laugh outta him. But it cut off fast when Smoke leaned too sharp into the turn, lost his balance—and the mare kicked back, throwin him straight into the dirt.

You didn’t even breathe. Just rushed forward, boots kickin up dust.

He groaned, sittin up slow. “I’m alright.”

You crouched beside him, eyes sharp. “You sure?”

He nodded, breath ragged. But you saw it. That frustration boilin under the surface.

Stack and Sammie was already laughin loud from the porch.

“Man hit the ground like a sack of feed,” Stack wheezed.

“He roll like a barrel,” Sammie said. “You alright, cuz?”

You shot them a look. “Alright, that’s enough. Go on. Head back. Y’all jokes ain’t helpin him none.”

Stack raised his hands, grinning. “Yes ma’am.”

He slapped the back of Sammie’s arm, already turnin toward the house. “Come on, court jester.”

Sammie lingered just a moment longer. Gave Smoke one of those looks—the kind that said boy, you better not let her slip—before turning to you. He tipped his hat.

“Y’all have a nice evening now.”

Then he winked, slow, and disappeared up the porch steps behind Stack.

And there you stayed.

Kneelin in the dirt beside a man still breathin hard, still achin, and still tryin. Sun crawlin higher in the sky. Your hand restin gentle on his knee.

“You ready to try again?” you asked.

Smoke looked up at you.

And for the first time, he didn’t flinch.

Smoke tried.

Lord knows he tried.

But it didn’t matter how many times he gripped the reins, squared his shoulders, breathed deep like you told him—he couldn’t feel the horse. Not really. Couldn’t let go enough to ride with her instead of against her.

The mare’s ears pinned back every time. She shifted restless beneath him, hooves stompin the earth like she had somethin to prove. He tried to guide her forward again, but his hands were too stiff, too sharp.

The mare snorted, side-stepped, and nearly bucked again.

“Damn it—!” he growled, pulling her up short, boots digging into the dirt as he hopped off, barely landing on both feet.

You were standin a little ways back, arms folded across your chest. Watching. Quiet.

He turned to you, chest heaving, jaw tight. “I don’t get it,” he spat. “I’m doin everything right.”

You stepped forward, voice low but clear.

“She feelin your frustration, Elijah. That’s what’s throwin her off.”

He looked at you, jaw clenched.

You walked over, hand reachin to soothe the mare’s neck. “It ain’t just about what your body doin. She feelin your energy. You stiff. Tight. Like you waitin to fight her. That ain’t ridin, baby—that’s just bracin.”

Smoke dropped his hat in the dirt, rubbing both hands down his face. “So what—you want me to just pretend I ain’t frustrated?”

“No,” you said, calm. “I want you to breathe. Let it pass through you, not sit in you.”

He kicked at the dirt, jaw flexin, tongue pressin to the inside of his cheek. “I don’t know how to do that.”

You tilted your head, then gave a little nod toward the house. “Come on.”

He looked up, brows tight.

You smiled, just a little. “You need some lemonade.”

He stared at you a beat. Then huffed out a breath, picked up his hat, and followed. The sun beat down like a lesson. And the mare watched him walk away like she knew he’d be back.

You held the screen door open, warm breeze curling ’round your ankles, one hand steady on the frame.

Smoke paused at the step, eyes dropping down to where your fingers curled around the wood, then up—slow. He looked down at you like the sun was hitting you different. And maybe it was. Or maybe it was just him, hot and frustrated and still wired from the ride, but standing there with your hair pulled back and the porch light catching on the sheen of your cheek, you looked—

Like a problem he wouldn’t mind breaking himself over.

He stepped through, but not before giving you one last glance. Deep. Like he was memorizing something.

You held your breath, just a little. Confidence wasn’t your issue—never had been. But Elijah?

Elijah was fine.

Fine like things that didn’t make no sense. Fine like heat that stuck to your bones. That build and them arms, sure—but it was the quiet in him that’d got you. That softness. That way he always looked like he had a hundred thoughts but never said none of ‘em first. The shyness you’d had to pull out of him bit by bit, like teasing the bloom outta a stubborn flower.

He dropped into the kitchen chair, exhaling through his nose, sweat still glistenin at his temple. His eyes followed you across the room, slow and steady, dragging over every movement.

You pulled two thick glasses from the cupboard, and he watched the flex of your fingers, the way your belt caught at your waist. Watched the small rise of your shoulder as you reached overhead. Every gesture, quiet and easy, had him locked in like a sermon.

You set the glasses down with a soft clink, turned, walked to the fridge.

He couldn’t stop staring. The curve of your spine, the sway of your hips. The small crease where your pants hugged the back of your thighs.

The fridge door opened with a hum and you pulled out the pitcher. Cold beads of condensation slid down your wrist. You brought it to the table and poured slow. He didn’t even blink.

“You ever think,” you said, breaking the silence, “that the mind gets loud when the body tryna talk?”

He looked up at that. Lips parted. “What?”

You smiled a little, passing him his glass.

“You asked how to clear your mind,” you said, easing down into the chair across from him. “Sometimes the only way I know how is to listen to the rest of me. Let my body speak. Don’t always have to be a war between the two.”

He took a long sip, eyes still on you. “And you figured that out on your own?”

“Took some time. Some fallin’ off my own horses,” you said, with a half-smile. “But yeah. In order to guide somethin’—a horse, a life—you gotta follow it too. Feel it out. Give it space to tell you what it need.”

He nodded slow, his jaw workin like he was holdin back another question.

You stood up.

Your voice came softer this time, almost playful. “Come on.”

He blinked. “Come on where?”

You didn’t turn right away. Just walked to the living room doorframe and paused, leaning against it, one hand braced above your head.

Then you looked back over your shoulder.

“You comin?”

He stood up slow, that big frame unfolding like he wasn’t sure what waited in the next room. His boots dragged a little as he crossed the floor, glass in hand, eyes never leaving you.

You didn’t say a word. Just stepped into the living room, let the screen door’s light fade behind you, and moved toward the old couch that faced out the wide window. The sun was anglin low now, paintin the walls gold.

He eased down beside you, a full cushion of space between—but his arm brushed yours when he reached to set his glass down on the table. You didn’t pull back.

“You always been this quiet?” you asked, voice soft like the way folks talk when they don’t wanna scare off a good thing.

Smoke looked at you out the corner of his eye. Then gave a small shrug. “Guess I ain’t ever had much to say.”

You looked back out the window, that same quiet ease in your chest startin to melt into something heavier. “No. You got things to say. Just don’t always know how to say ‘em.”

He didn’t answer that. But the silence between you turned warmer somehow, thicker.

You tapped your fingers along your knee, like you were wrestlin with a thought, then glanced at him again.

“You remember that summer day my daddy asked you to come help me with them damn sheep?”

That made him stiffen—just a flicker—but you saw it.

He looked over at you slow. “Yeah… I remember.”

You laughed, low. “They was all out past the fence, damn near in the woods. Took us a good hour just to corner ’em.”

He nodded, a breath leaving him like he was tryin not to smile. “One of ‘em kicked at me. Damn thing had spite in her heart.”

That made you laugh for real.

But then it quieted again. Like y’all both stepped over into something deeper without meaning to.

You didn’t look at him when you said it. Just let the words come.

“And when it was done… I told you to help me check on the water barrels. You remember that too?”

He did.

God, he did.

Behind the barn, sweat clingin to both of you, the sun hidin low and heavy behind the trees. You’d leaned up against the fence, dress hitched just high enough. Told him, plain as anything, “Ain’t no shame if I’m the one doin the milkin, Elijah.”

He’d gone still. Swallowed hard.

And then you’d sunk to your knees like you was prayin.

Only thing sacred was the sound he made when you took him in your mouth, soft like you was drinkin from a spring after walkin through fire. Your hands on his thighs, the way his big hands gripped the fence behind you, knuckles white, tryin not to cry out too loud.

He’d never been touched like that.

Never by someone who looked up at him with that much want.

When he’d finished—Lord, when he’d finished—you stood, wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, and kissed his cheek. Like it wasn’t a sin. Like it was just the weather.

Neither of you had spoken on it since.

Back in the living room now, you looked over at him finally. Real soft.

“You ain’t forgot.”

He shook his head once, slow.

You leaned back on the couch, a smirk just at the edge of your mouth.

“Didn’t think you had.”

He shifted in his seat like he was tryin to breathe right again. His fingers tapped his thigh. “You… you always been like that?”

You raised a brow. “Like what?”

He looked at you now. Really looked.

“Kind. Quiet. Dangerous.”

Your smile widened.

“Only when I want to be.”

You ain’t say nothing else at first. Just let your head rest against the couch, eyes half-lidded, the quiet in the room growing heavy as July heat. His glass was still full, condensation crawling down the sides. Your eyes dropped to his hand—those big, veined hands, twitchin against his thigh like they didn’t know where to go.

You leaned forward, slow. Picked up your glass, took a sip. Watched his eyes follow the way your throat moved.

“You gone keep sittin like you scared of me?” you asked, voice low and teasing. “Or you gone come when I call?”

His head turned slow, the look in his eyes gone somewhere between fear and reverence.

“Come here, Elijah.”

He moved like his body didn’t belong to him no more—legs stiff, breath shallow. Sat closer, but still left space between y’all. Like that would help.

You didn’t let it.

You turned toward him, bent one leg up on the couch, the other foot flat on the floor. His eyes dragged over your thigh, your sundress riding up just enough to tempt ruin.

Your voice dropped lower. “I know you remember how I sounded when I moaned your name behind that barn.”

His mouth parted, just a little. You saw him swallow, Adam’s apple bobbing like he was tryin to hold back a yes, ma’am.

You leaned in close, lips just by his ear. “Say it.”

He breathed in sharp. Then, quieter than a prayer:

“Please…”

You leaned back, fingers trailing along his collarbone, then down his chest—slow and deliberate.

“Mmhm. That’s what I thought. You listen real good.”

He nodded, breath hitching.

You climbed over him, straddled his lap without askin. That dress shifted up your thighs like it was born to rise for him. He didn’t dare touch—not yet.

“Keep your hands to yourself, baby,” you whispered, grippin his shoulders to hold him steady. “Unless I say.”

He nodded again.

You rocked your hips once, soft, just enough to make him bite his lip.

“You hard already?” you asked, lips curved. “You ain’t even tasted the real thing yet.”

He ain’t say nothin then just hissed through clenched teeth.

“Shh.”

You reached between your bodies, cupped him through those old work jeans. He groaned low, back pressin into the couch.

“Ain’t no shame in wantin,” you whispered, stroking him through the fabric. “But you don’t get to beg. You get to obey.”

He nodded so fast it made you smile.

You leaned down, kissed the corner of his mouth—light, lingering, cruel.

Then your lips moved to his ear again, warm breath makin him shiver.

“I’m gon ride you like I broke that damn horse. But first—” your fingers undid his belt with slow, perfect ease, “—you gon sit back and thank the Lord.”

He gasped as you freed him, thick and hot in your hand.

“Thank Him for sendin you a woman who knows what to do with a man like you.”

“Thank you l—”

Your mouth was already on him.

No more talkin.

Just him breathin heavy, hands fisted in the cushions, back archin while you worshipped every inch of him. You kept eye contact—slow, filthy, commanding. Took him deeper every time he whimpered. Pulled back with a pop just to hear him cry out again.

“Don’t move,” you said, voice low. “Don’t you dare move.”

He didn’t.

Even when his whole body was tremblin. Even when your name left his lips like it was the only scripture that ever mattered.

And when you finally rose, wiped your mouth, and sat back on his lap with that same slow drag of your dress ridin up—

He didn’t blink. Didn’t breathe.

“Now,” you whispered, hand guiding him home, “this what obedience gets you.”

And he moaned like you’d saved his whole damn soul.

Didn’t even care how it sounded—high, wrecked, broken open. His back arched clean off the couch like he couldn’t believe how deep you took him. You sat on him slow, slick, ridin’ down inch by inch like you was dippin into somethin holy and heavy. And Lord, he felt it—felt you take him in like you wanted to ruin him, like you meant to.

“Fuck—” he hissed, head throwin’ back, throat straining.

But you just grinned, hips grindin’ slow as molasses. “Uh-uh. Keep your eyes on me, Elijah.”

And he tried. God, he tried.

His hands clutched at the couch like holdin’ on to the earth itself, body shakin’ from tryin’ not to buck. You leaned over him, one hand on his chest, pressin’ him back down when he twitched.

“I told you already,” you said, voice low and firm, drippin’ heat like summer sweat. “It ain’t about control.”

He was pantin’ now, lips wet, eyes locked on you like he was drownin’. “Th-then what is it?”

You slid your hips forward, slow and deep, and watched him break.

“It’s about trust,” you whispered.

He whined—whined, from the back of his throat, needy and sweet and helpless as all hell.

You cupped his jaw, thumb draggin’ lazy across his lower lip. “Let go, baby. Let me move you. Let the horse lead.”

And you rode him like that—steady, fluid, like the rhythm of a trot, like the earth was beneath your thighs and he was the reins in your hand. Your pussy grippin’ him every time you rolled forward, his breath catchin’ with each pass, every inch of him pulled deeper into your heat.

He moaned with every shift, loud, no shame left in his voice—just need. He’d never sounded like that before. Hell, he ain’t never felt like this before. Taken. Guided. Let down into somethin he ain’t know he wanted ’til you gave it to him.

“Please,” he whimpered, voice all breath and ruin.

You tilted your hips, grinded deeper, watchin his abs flutter and his thighs twitch. “Please what, baby?”

He shook his head, couldn’t even finish. Just stared at you like you was draggin heaven through his body.

“Say it,” you said, lettin your teeth graze his throat. “Say what you need.”

“I—” his voice cracked, hips buckin’ once before you locked him down again with a squeeze of your thighs. “I need you to—fuck, I need you to take it. Take me.”

And oh, did you.

You gripped his wrists again, pressed them above his head, ridin’ him slow and deep, makin’ him feel every wet, thick stroke like it was gospel. Your name spilled outta his mouth like a prayer—over and over, soft and desperate. “Yes—yes ma’am—please don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop—”

His body was shakin’ now, tremblin’ under you, chest damp with sweat. He was red in the face, lips swollen, thighs quiverin’ beneath your grind. He was gone. And he loved it.

You leaned in again, kissin’ just beneath his ear as your hips kept rollin’, voice soft but sharp:

“See how much easier it get when you don’t fight it?”

He whimpered again, noddin’, eyes flutterin’ shut like the pleasure was too much.

“Good boy,” you breathed.

That made him whine. Real low. Real nasty.

You smiled, sittin back up and lettin him feel all of you—slick, tight, soaked through, ridin him deep and slow like you was wringin the sin outta him one roll at a time.

“You ain’t never gonna forget this ride,” you said. “And you ain’t never gonna fuckin’ try to lead again.”

“No ma’am,” he gasped, damn near cryin now, body pullin tight under you.

“Who’s in control, Elijah?”

“You are,” he whispered.

“Say it again.”

“You’re in control,” he moaned, voice wrecked, body twisted up beneath your hands, your hips, your heat. “*You—*you runnin’ me, baby, I’m yours.”

“Damn right,” you said, slammin down once, draggin a scream out his mouth.

And just like that, he came—loud and grateful, hands clenched, tears prickin’ his eyes, his whole body undone under you.

And you?

You kept ridin—slow and easy, chasin your own end now, sayin his name low and filthy, feelin the way he stayed inside you even as he trembled and begged, lettin you take what you needed like he was made for it.

Because he was.

He was yours to ride.

And he knew it now.

You barely had time to breathe before he shifted beneath you, hands strong now, braced on your hips like he was takin’ the reins for real this time. You went to ride him again—slow, sweet—but he held you there, still, hips pressin’ up so deep it made you whimper.

“Nuh uh,” he said low, voice cracked open, country-soft but solid. “You ridin’ me, but I’m leadin’ now.”

He rolled his hips, not fast—but deep, hittin’ that spot that made your breath catch in your throat. You blinked down at him, mouth already fallin’ open, tryin’ to find words that wouldn’t come.

“Oh nah,” he said, drawlin’ now, sweat glistenin’ on his chest as he dragged you down again. “Don’t go quiet on me now.”

He thrust again. You gasped.

“Say it.”

You shook your head, smilin’ like you had control still. But he dug his fingers into your thighs, not enough to hurt, just enough to warn.

“I said talk to me.”

Another thrust—this one faster, harder—like he was diggin’ his way inside your soul. You moaned loud this time, eyes rollin’ back, one hand on his chest for balance.

“Elijah—” you managed.

He grinned. “That’s it. Say my name. Again.”

“Elijah,” you groaned, and that only made him buck up harder.

“That feel good?” he murmured against your collarbone, hand slidin’ up to your back, keepin’ you pressed close while he drove up into you like he had a point to prove. “That how you like it, huh? Deep like this?”

You nodded, whined.

“Use your words,” he bit out. “You been teachin’ me how to ride—now you tell me how I’m doin’.”

You gasped when he hit just right again, body archin’, tryin’ to hold on. “You—you drivin’ me crazy, boy—”

“That right?” he chuckled, breath hot against your throat. “Say it again. Say you mine.”

And Lord, the way he was movin’ now—steady, rough, perfect—you couldn’t do nothin’ but say it.

“I’m yours,” you whispered.

He flipped you then—smooth and sudden—your back hittin’ the couch cushion, legs still wrapped around him like you couldn’t bear to let him go.

“I know,” he growled, settlin’ between your thighs, not lettin’ you catch your breath. “And now I’m gon’ finish what you started.”

He drilled into you now, slow but hard—real rhythm, real grit, takin’ everything you taught him and pourin’ it back into you tenfold.

You cried out, nails diggin’ into his arms.

“Yeah,” he breathed, eyes locked on yours, every thrust deeper than the last. “You feel that? You feel how good you take me?”

You nodded, barely able to hold yourself together.

He leaned down, lips at your ear, voice low and commandin’ now: “Then say it.”

“Feel so good,” you choked. “You—oh my God, Elijah—”

“That’s right,” he growled, hips hittin’ yours in perfect rhythm. “Say you close. Let me hear it.”

You were already tremblin’ beneath him, damn near cryin’ from the build-up. He watched your body writhe under his, all that control you once had now meltin’ into the couch as he pressed into you like salvation itself.

“Say it,” he repeated, and you finally broke

“I’m—‘Lijah—I’m comin’—I’m—”

And when it hit you, he stayed right there—grindin’ through every wave, kissin’ you like he ain’t never gon’ stop. You clenched around him, cryin’ out his name like a prayer, and he followed right after—hips stutterin’, a raw, deep moan spillin’ from his lips as he filled you up and collapsed against you, both of y’all gaspin’ like you’d just come up for air after drownin’.

You lay there, chest to chest, still connected. His arms wound tight around you, face buried in your neck.

You stroked his hair, soft and slow. “Look at you. Ridin’ like a real cowboy now.”

He smiled against your skin, voice hoarse and proud. “Only ‘cause I had the best damn teacher.”

The heat still shimmered between y’all, even after. You laid tangled up in each other for a while—his heartbeat slowing against your back, his breath a soft rhythm at the nape of your neck. Neither of you spoke at first. Just the hush of your breath, your fingers running along his forearm, his lips at your shoulder.

When you finally moved, it was quiet and slow, like neither one of you really wanted to break the spell. But you turned your head, brushed your lips over his, and whispered, “Come on. Let’s clean up, cowboy.”

He followed you to the bathroom like you hung the moon. You ran the water warm and let the steam fill the small room, made it feel like another world. He stood there in the doorway for a second, just lookin’ at you again. Like he was memorizing the lines of your back, the sway of your hips, the way you wrung your hair out and stepped under the spray like it didn’t matter who watched.

“Don’t just stare,” you said over your shoulder. “Ain’t nothin’ you ain’t seen already.”

He chuckled low, then joined you.

The shower was quieter than before. Intimate, sure—but gentle. He washed your back with slow hands, thumb brushing a trail down your spine, forehead resting against yours when you turned to rinse. You took your time rinsin’ him too, letting your hands glide over the strong slope of his shoulders, that lean stomach still tight with heat.

When you were both clean and pruned, you toweled off and dressed—him in the same shirt you’d tugged off like it had offended you, now buttoned back on with quiet reverence. You threw your hoodie on and your boots, hair still damp, skin warm.

He followed you out to the truck. Didn’t ask where you were goin’. Just opened the passenger door and slid in beside you, his hand grazin’ your thigh like he wasn’t ready to let go of the moment.

You drove slow, headlights catchin’ on branches and dust, the dark curling in around the road like it was tryna protect what had passed between y’all. He sat turned toward you, hand relaxed on your knee, thumb movin’ slow in circles.

By the time you pulled up to the ranch, the porch light was off. House quiet, soft glow from the window tellin’ you Sammie and Stack were knocked out.

You cut the engine and looked over at him.

Elijah looked back like he wanted to say a thousand things. But you leaned in first, kissed him like you meant to brand it in his bones. His hands found your waist, but he ain’t try nothin’. Just held you close. Still.

When you pulled back, you smiled. “Don’t forget what I taught you.”

He looked at you like a man reborn. “I could never.”

You kissed him again, softer this time.

Then he slid out the truck, boots hittin’ the gravel, turnin’ back once more with a look you’d keep with you for a long while.

You watched him go up those steps, open that door real quiet, and disappear into the house.

But the warmth he left in your chest?

That stayed.

Sammie was still half-asleep when Stack threw the door open, light flooding the room.

“Wake up,” Stack barked, pulling a shirt on over his head. “Brotha’ out there like it’s a damn rodeo.”

Sammie sat up slow, hair a mess, voice groggy. “Ain’t no way.”

“I’m tellin’ you.” Stack was already steppin’ into his boots. “Get up. Come look.”

They stumbled out the front door together, the early Delta sun stretchin’ long shadows across the grass. Dew still clung to everything. But out there, just past the fence, Smoke sat tall on that stubborn bay horse like he’d been born in the saddle.

And he wasn’t just on the horse. He was movin’ with it, every motion clean and natural, like a river bendin’ ‘round what used to block it.

“Boy ain’t playin’,” Stack said, whistlin’. “That’s you ridin’ that thing like you ain’t never got thrown off once?”

Smoke glanced over, chest rising under the plain white tee stuck to him with sweat. He adjusted the reins and gave a shrug. “Maybe y’all just ain’t got the patience to teach.”

Sammie raised his eyebrows. “Is that so?”

“Must be. She showed me once.”

Stack walked down the steps, Sammie trailin’ behind. “Once?” he echoed, laughing. “Damn, so she whispered it in your ear and you just got it?”

Smoke grinned. “Somethin’ like that.”

“Boy, if you don’t—” Sammie shook his head. “What she do, baptize you in that saddle?”

“Felt like it,” Smoke muttered, barely hidin’ a smirk.

They leaned up against the fence now, watchin’ him trot the horse along the perimeter.

Sammie narrowed his eyes. “You been out here since sun-up?”

Smoke gave a nod. “Before that.”

“Jesus,” Stack muttered. “She must got some spell on you.”

Smoke finally slowed, turned the horse back their way, sittin’ proud in that saddle.

“She taught me how to listen,” he said. “Y’all was too busy tryin’ to control it.”

“Oh he deep now,” Sammie said, laughing, “talkin’ like a cowboy poet.”

Stack clapped once. “Next thing he gon’ write a country album. ‘She Tamed My Heart and My Horse.’”

Smoke rode up to the fence and leaned forward, eyes flashin’ but amused. “Y’all done?”

“Not even close,” Stack said, grin wide. “But I’ll say this…”

He nodded, real slow, like he was respectin’ it for real now.

“You look like you know what you doin’ out there.”

Smoke held his gaze, then gave a small smile. “That’s ‘cause I finally do.”Sammie looked at Stack, then back at Smoke. “So what now, Mr. Wrangler?”

Smoke tugged on the reins just a bit. “Now?”

He turned the horse in a clean circle, confidence in every motion.

“Now I ride.”

Stack crossed his arms. “And what she teach you after the ridin’?”

Smoke smirked. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Sammie burst out laughin’. “Oh he smug now.”

“I’m sayin’,” Stack added. “Got the horse, got the glow…”

They backed off, still chuckling as Smoke rode toward the far field, the morning wide and golden around him. He didn’t say nothin’ else. He didn’t have to. He was ridin’ like he’d been taught by the Lord’s own whisper.

And he knew damn well who’d been the angel.

WHO next?😏

[my-castles-crumbling]

Mac and Cheese

@celestial-vibes-1 requested wolfstar and mac and cheese, here's what I've created!

“Remus, what’re you doing?”

Sirius’s voice from the door to the kitchen made Remus jump. He’d been so wrapped up in his work that he’d completely stopped paying attention to anything outside the little kitchen. In his defense, Sirius had also been asleep, so it wasn’t like he’d thought to listen for him, anyway.

The idea had started a few days ago. James had brought up missing mac and cheese, something that was apparently a staple of his childhood, and Lily had jumped in in reverent agreement. “Ugh, it’s so good,” she’d exclaimed. “Like…crack in a box.”

Sirius had just frowned. “Sounds good,” he’d mumbled.

It was something that happened every once in a while. Something relatively ‘normal’ that people experienced in childhood was brought up, only for Sirius to realize that he’d missed out on it, because of Walburga and Orion. And every time, Remus’s heart broke for his boyfriend. Because if anyone deserved some fucking childish whimsy, it was Sirius Black.

So this time, he was determined to give Sirius at least something he’d missed out on from his childhood. Sure, he couldn’t be the tooth fairy or give him a tenth birthday party, but he could make him some mac and cheese.

The problem was that Remus’s mom never made him mac and cheese. Because…well, he was lactose intolerant.

So he was going completely on nonexistent instincts. Luckily, he was a grown man, so he didn’t feel the need to refer to the directions on the box. It couldn’t be that hard, it was a kids’ food, after all.

It went well at first. He boiled the water, cooked the noodles, then measured out the other ingredients. And while he didn’t seem to understand the attraction–the powder freaked him out a bit, and the artificial orange color made him want to gag–he was pleased with himself for giving Sirius something he felt he missed. Stirring in the butter, milk, and cheese, he hummed happily, reflecting on how Sirius deserved all the wonderful things.

Until he was interrupted.

“I’m…making you mac and cheese,” he admitted, turning to see Sirius in the doorway and feeling rather sheepish. “You seemed so sad about having never had it before, and…” he trailed off, trying to figure out what Sirius was thinking, as the shorter man had brought his hand up to cover his mouth, and his eyes had gone watery.

“Remus…that’s so sweet,” Sirius whispered, walking over and embracing him. “I…wow.” 

After they pulled apart, they both looked down at Remus’s concoction. “Wanna taste it?” Remus offered nervously.

“Sure.”

But after eating a spoonful, Sirius did not seem impressed. “This…no offense, but, this is it? Wow, Lily and James have low standards,” he frowned, making a disgusted face. It was so nice of you to make this for me and all, but… ‘crack in a box’? I don’t think so.”

Frowning, Remus tasted a small spoonful as well, not wanting to get sick. “Eurgh,” he nearly gagged. “This is awful! Do you think Lily and James were messing with us?"

"Or they've both gone crazy," Sirius shrugged, looking just as confused as Remus felt.

It was then that James arrived through the Floo and immediately yelled out, pointing at the blue mac and cheese box. “Ah! Have you saved some for me?” he asked eagerly, beaming.

“You can have all of it, mate, it’s disgusting,” Sirius said, grimacing. “Dunno what other weird shit you and Lils like to eat, but–”

But as James approached the pot, he immediately burst out laughing, cutting Sirius off. “Moony, you have to drain the water before you put the other stuff in. You’ve made…mac and cheese soup!” he laughed, rolling his eyes.

Sirius and Remus exchanged a glance.

Oh.

[blueberrykizz]

Let me be Selfish (part 2)

Bob Reynold x fem! Reader

Part 1

Summary: After years of being apart and moving to Manhattan, New York City from Sarasota Springs, Florida and in a new relationship, you see a familiar face on the news.

Notes: Since we don't really know how old Bob is supposed to be l'm gonna say in this story he's like 28 and reader is like 26-27 just she's only a little bit younger then him but she's out of college and a teacher for second grade.

Warnings: cheating sort of? (Not on Bob), Arguing (not with bob), toxic relationship (again not with Bob), swearing, brings up teen pregnancy (in a small part of a conversation), Bob talks about his drug use,

!THIS IS NOT PROOF READ! So I'm sorry if it's shit

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I gently pulled away as I looked down and sighed “Bob, I-I should go.” I said as I grabbed my coffee before I felt Bobs hand grab my wrist. As he looked up at me with pleading eyes.

“(Reader) please….j-just stay for a moment.” Bobs eyes were looking up at me as I looked at him for a moment before nodding my head.

I sat back down a little further from Bob as he let go of my wrist before he sighed and rubbed his eyes, as he looked ashamed, “I was stupid, okay? I didn’t want to leave you but, (reader) y-you knew what you wanted in life. Graduate high school, go for college for early children’s education…get married, have a family.” I looked up at Bob as he sounded like he was going to cry

“Bob…we were teenagers, the whole marriage and family thing was way down in the future for me back then.” I sigh as Bob nods his head

“Ya but you talked about it, and it scared the shit out of me, I dropped out of high school and I was smoking, and you were….God you were on the road to success, and I remember your parents getting on me about how I was holding you back, and if I made us teen parents, they’d kill me.” He laughed softly as I looked up at him

I laugh a little in response as Bob continues “I was sacred that because of me…you would never get out of Sarasota springs, like you wanted. And I was starting to get addicted to drugs and meth. I remember at your graduation I was out of it, I regret that so much now.” Bob nearly cried as I looked down

I tap my cup as I sighed “Ya…because we got in an argument, I was so pissed off.” I sigh as Bob nods his head, “That was when you told me it was either weed or you. That was before you found out I was also doing meth and all that” Bob said ashamed

I felt my eyes water “And y-you picked drugs…I remember because it was after the graduation at the graduation party and I couldn’t find you anywhere until I went to the front to see you buying from someone still high.” I sniffed as Bob looked up at me,

“If I could take it all back I would, I hated myself…still do because of that moment. I hated myself so much, after it happened I went home packed a bag a left” Bob eyes were watery as I looked down.

“I went to your house the next day…snuck in through your window. Your mom was home and she had just called my parents to see if you were at my place, she was worried and was asking all the neighbors where you were. I thought maybe you were just ignoring her and was in your room like you always did, but when I got there….and didn’t see you I cried, saw you left you room in a mess like you were in a hurry, the pictures you had of us on your wall on the ground and the pictures frame of me and you from the beach broken on the floor.” I felt a tear run down my face

“I remember laying in your bed because I missed you, took one of your shirts because it smelled like you…then I put all those pictures back into your memory box, i kept the picture that was in the frame. I still have the picture and your shirt.” I laugh softly as I wipe my face as Bob looked at me with wide eyes.

We sat there in silence Bob looked at me as I looked around the park seeing family’s playing, friends laughing, couples chatting. I didn’t say anything as a tear feel down my face and before I could wipe it away I felt another hand wipe it.

I looked back at Bob as he smiled gently at me, “I’m sorry for how I was when I was younger, I was stupid and dumb. I would understand if you actually hated me.” He spoke softly and embarrassed

I shake my head before gently scooting closer to him before resting my head on his shoulder, “I could never hate you Bob…I loved you to much to ever hate you even years later.” I sighed

I felt Bob become tense before I took his hand making small circles with my thumb just like I did when we were younger, Bob soon relaxed before thinking he kissed my head, “I still really want to be selfish.” He said quietly as if a whisper to himself

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We sat like that for hours, people watching in that park together spoke softly to each other about random things, it was nice and gentle. I wish it lasted longer.

Bob had gotten a call and told me he had to head back as I nodded my head telling I should probably head back home as well to finish up grading homework from my students.

When leaving the park Bob was going one way and I was going the other way, we looked at each other not saying much as Bob held my hand still he looked at me with softness as I stared up at him, almost as if we didn’t have to talk to understand each other.

A moment passed before I finally took breath “I-I should get going.” I said softly as bob nods still hesitant to let me go, as if he was scared that if he let go he’ll lose me. But soon he finally let go tucked his hand in his pocket and said his goodbye when he was about to turn away I acted without thinking and kissed his cheek before pulling away seeing the lipgloss it left behind

“Get home safe Bob, text me.” I looked up at him with a smile before turning around and heading home, I looked back for a moment expecting Bob to be gone but he was still standing in that spot looking at me.

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On my walk home I had much to think about, how I felt about Bob, what I should do about Nick. It was a lot.

When I finally got to my apartment and closed the door I walked into the kitchen to get some water where I found Nick making pasta, “Hey hon, thought I make dinner tonight.” Nick said happily before going to kiss my cheek.

I hum in response as I drinked my water before telling him I was going to grade.

Nick didn’t say anything for a moment, before I turning to me, “I don’t like you working at home, in fact I don’t understand why you work? (Reader) I make more than enough for the both of us.” Nick said as I rolled my eyes as Nick went on and on like he always did when I worked at home.

I finally cut him off “Well we’re not married, nor live together so…gotta pay my rent somehow Nick.” I said slightly annoyed as I sat down and began grading as Nick let out a sigh “Well we could get married.”

I froze for a moment “What?” I said as Nick chucked softly “I’m just saying it would make perfect sense, and you won’t have to work anymore, rely on me. Of course when we get married…you’ll have to stop being friends with certain people I don’t like…they’re just bad examples and people I already don’t like you being around.”

Nick spoke so casually about wanting to basically control my life like he wasn’t already. Nick came over with the food and he gave me my plate before sitting across from me.

“Nick I enjoyed my job, and I enjoy being with my friends.” I say softly not in the mood to argue with Nick. As he sighs “You don’t know what you’ll enjoy or like in a couple of years, and I just want what’s best for you, that’s all I want for you. I mean why take care of other people’s kids when we could have our own one day for you to take care of.” Nick said as he took a bit of his food

An image instantly came to mind of me having nicks kids and I instantly felt sick and lost my appetite,

“Well what if I don’t want that?” I looked up at Nick as he rolled his eyes “Well then (reader) you’re just being selfish.” I could tell Nick was getting a little bit annoyed with me since I didn’t immediately obliged

I sigh “Then I’m selfish, because I don’t see myself ever wanting that life…with you.” I mumble the last part

Nick bit the inside of his cheek as he shook his head “You’re being ridiculous, (reader) I just want what’s best for us, and I don’t really appreciate this conversation after I let you go out with a friend almost all day.” Nick was irritated as I looked at him in shock,

“Let me? Nick I’m a grown woman. I can do whatever I damn please and be around whoever I want.” I raised my voice was irritated as I looked up at Nick.

He was about to say something before my phone buzzed, and before I could reach it Nick instantly picked it up to read the text.

New message

Bobby: “I just got back home, wanted to tell you I thought about you and our conversation on my way back, I miss being around you. Anyways hope you take my advice have a good night sweet dreams.”

Nick read the text out loud before slamming my phone down “What the fuck!” Nick raised his voice “You told me you were going out with some friends, and instead you went out with…who the hell is this guy?!” Nick clenched his hand around my phone as I sighed

“He’s an old friend, and I didn’t tell you it was a guy because this is how you’ll react.” I dropped my fork looking at Nick

He shook his head “Damn right, and what was this conversation and advice, huh?! The guy probably wants to get your pants, with the whole ‘I miss being around you’ and ‘sweet dreams’ bullshit.”

I sighed “I don’t want to argue okay? Can we just leave it?” I spoke softly hoping that it would calm Nick down

But instead he got up threw my phone back at me got his coat and keys “I need to get a drink, after finding out my girlfriend is just a liar and a whore!” Nick yelled at me before leaving and slamming the door

I sat there in silence not knowing what to do tears ran down my face, my phone buzzed again it was from Bob, it was a yellow heart emoji, I laughed to myself a little.

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Two days went by and Nick never came back, I didn’t expect him to. I already had a plan in my head if he ever did, I would break up with him.

I had packed his stuff already in a couple of boxes, just a few clothes he left and his bathroom supplies, along with some decor he insisted I put up even though it didn’t match at all.

I was currently at my school in my classroom, my students were at lunch, I was planning my next weeks lesson when I heard a knock on the classroom door, expecting one of mu students I didn’t fully looked up “What do you need sweetie.” I said before looking up to see Bob.

“Bob! Oh, sorry I thought you were one of the students.” I instantly stood up and fixed my skirt that went to my feet. As he smiled down at me, “Hey…I was in the area…I remember you told me the school you worked at, thought I’d come by say hi and you texted me earlier saying you had forgotten your lunch so….I bring gifts.” Bob lifted the togo bag with a shy smile

I invited Bob in as I got one of the kids seats for him to sit with me and my desk as he brought out the subs I caught a glimpse of the receipt ‘Delmar’s’ I looked up at Bob “You didn’t. Bob you went to Queens just for the subs.” I laughed gently as Bob shrugged as his cheeks went pink

“I thought I hid it well with a different bag, but you told this was the best deli place ever….thought I would bring you something you actually enjoy.” Bob smiled as I looked up at him

He handed me the sub as I laughed softly to myself “You got my order right.” I said as I unwrapped the food as Bob looked at me

“I just got it like you use to back in high school. The guy gave me a hard time started going of on me in Spanish some guy had to help translate what he said to me guess the owner knew him, his name was Peter or something, but I explained that the order was for you and the man instantly stoped and made the order.” Bob shrugged as I laughed

“Mr. Delmar, good man I helped him raise money for a new shop after his last one caught on fire, he has a cute cat too.” I smiled before taking a bit of my sub as it instantly hit the spot

Bob chuckled softly at my reaction before he took a bite of his own and looked at me with wide eyes “This is amazing.” I nod my head as we ate in silence before I went to my desk drawer and got a small bag of chips as we ate.

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Bob stayed for a while as he looked around my classroom and saw all the pictures the kids drew nearly half of them was the new Avenger’s most didn’t have Bob only a couple and that was because the kids would copy the pictures from the news.

Bob listened to me talk about my students and how much I had to use his friends as a way to connect with my students to have them listen. I told him about my lessons plans and everything I would think he would find boring but instead he gave me his full attention and helped me come up with new ideas for crafts to make with the kids.

We talked for what felt like eternity as he told me all about the Avengers and how Bucky was in someway the mom of the group and always had to make sure Walker was behaving himself, and how at dinner Yelena would have her guinea pig eat at the table with them so if it ever got silent you would just hear her guinea pig munching on it food.

We laughed over so many things is was nice and comfortable. But when the silence hit, me and Bob just looked at each other enjoying each other company in silence.

We didn’t talk as Bob ate some chips as I finished some emails. Bob didn’t interrupt he sat patiently waiting for me to finish, he went on his phone for a moment before laying it on the desk and continued to look around my classroom and got a close look at the kids drawing some being about the kids family’s, their friends, the avengers, and me. He smiled at the drawings as he looked over them,

I sent the email before I got up to stand next Bob as he looked around, we stood in silence before he spoke up, “You’re students seem to love you.” I smile at his words as I looked up at him, “ya some of kids parents actually appreciate how much I do for the students.” I smile as Bob nods his head before looking down at me

He was about to say something when the bell rang indicating lunch was over, I sighed before grabbing my eyes to the classroom “Well I have to go get my student…I’m happy you came over Bob.” I say as Bob nods his head before going to wrap up his leftover sub and walk out with me

“Of course, couldn’t have you go hungry, you’re educating the brains of our future.” He smiled and chuckled a little as I playfully rolled my eyes as we walked out, “Well I should go get them…text me when you get home, be safe.” I wave at Bob as he nods giving me a small wave before turning to leave to the front office.

As I walked the other way I had an idea, I turned around to face Bob who was already looking at me before I gave him a smile “Hey Bob? Is there a chance…I don’t know…but if the team, the avengers could…could come to school and meet the kids? I’m sure the kids here would be thrilled.” I smiled as Bob looked hesitant before nods “I-I’ll talk to them about it.” He gave me a smile as nod “Thank you, I would appreciate it, just let me know.” I smile before giving him a wave as he turned around to leave as I turned back towards the playground.

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When the school day ended and my students were all picked up, I finally checked my phone as Bob texted me a while ago telling me he was back at the tower before sending me a picture of Yelena and her guinea pig eating together at the table.

I laughed to myself as I texted him back

(Reader): Omg you weren’t lying lmao that’s so cute.

I smiled to myself as I sent the message before getting up with my coffee mug to head to the teachers lounge to get a refill as I saw some of coworkers in there chatting.

I quietly went to the corner where the coffee maker was before the lounge went quiet as they looked at me. Before my colleague Jason and Sarah spoke up, “Someone had a surprise guest come by for lunch who just so happens to be part of the new avengers.” They smiled as I rolled my eyes at the

“He’s my friend and Bob is not part of the new avengers…he just lives with them…and is their when they have press talks in the background.” I say as I add sugar to my coffee

As Jason leaned against the counter next to me “Ya sure. Anyways dose Nick know?” Jason wanted to know all drama and details as Sarah liked to stay silent and listen,

I shake my head before I whisper to them, “Well me and Nick… aren’t really on speaking terms right now, and I could honestly care less if it bothers him or not.” I smile as Jason and Sarah looked at each other with wide eyes as I smile at them with a shrug before leaning against the counter sipping my coffee

Jason shakes his head “Oh naughty, naughty.” He laughed as I smiled at me as Sarah looked at me “So are you and Nick…over?” She asked as I sighed “Well we will be, once he gets over this stupid tantrum of his, I’ll tell him I’m over it, I already have his stuff packed.” Sarah looked at Jason then at me

“I’m just so done with his bullshit.” I sigh as Sarah nods with Jason, they were one of my few friends that actually said I should leave Nick.

They gave me a soft smile as Sarah pat my back “Well we’re on side with this, I mean from what you’ve told me and Jason, Nick seems like a selfish dick.” Jason nods in agreement with her as I gave them both a soft smile and thank you before fixing my hair “Well I should finish up grading my kid’s math assignment.” I smile before leave the teacher lounge.

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When I finally got home I put my bag and leftover sub on the kitchen table beside immediately going to my bedroom and flopping on the bed, kicking off my shoes before I texted Bob I was back home.

I laid on my bed staring up at the ceiling as I let out a sigh before my phone buzzed with Bob sending a thumbs up and yellow heart emoji before he sent a text.

Bobby: “Glad to know, get some rest and enjoy the rest of your leftovers sub, i already ate mine ten out of ten going again.”

I smiled at his text before resting my phone on my chest. I smiled to myself I felt like a teenager girl again crushing on a boy who just texted her.

“God damn it Bob.” I say before I rest my head on my pillow and eventually close my eyes.

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A/n: okay Bob is such a cutie also did y’all get my reference heh, I know I’m amazing. Anyways Taylor swift definitely came to mind when writing about Bob and reader when they were in high school. Also next chapter wouldn’t come out right away I’m still writing here and there into it, and because it’s my finals week I’m not gonna post a new chapter to the series this week, okay much love byeee!!!

[koveragewithkiera]

"Branded"

Modern AU (Smoke x Annie Coded)

I saw @margepimpson ‘s post for Sinners Fanfic Ideas and this immediately came to mind. It’s between Smoke and Dee (OC), but I really wanted to write about this cute little scenario. It’s short and probably a mess lol, but I’m gonna start putting some full-time work in if you guys are interested.

WC: >1k

Characters: Smoke, Dee, Annie (mentioned), Stack (mentioned), and Bo (mentioned once lol)

Enjoy! :)

————————

Smoke’s head pounded heavily the second his mind regained consciousness. His eyes roll back in pain the second he tries to open them, and his mouth tastes like the flesh of an expired corpse. Fortunately, someone had made the brilliant decision to shut the curtains last night (likely Delilah), otherwise the light of the afternoon sun would’ve clocked him right between the eyes.

His limbs were sprawled out dramatically as if he’d fallen asleep the second they hit the mattress. His Dolce sports coat was shed at some point during the many festivities of last night, and he silently prayed it made its way back to the hotel with him. He borrowed it from his brother, and that was the last thing he needed right now.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been up for and hadn’t yet found the energy to move with how sensitive everything felt in the moment, but his bubble of peace was interrupted abruptly as Dee bustled through the door of his suite.

“Rise and shine, Mr. Future Annie Moore! I already let you get a few more minutes of sleep.” Her voice is oddly cheery, and Smoke’s eyes clench in immediate pain and irritation.

He lets out a deep groan, “Dee, what the fuck…”

Dee walks over to the curtains, mercifully only opening one side, but Smoke still hisses as if the sun burned his very skin. “Shit!”

She chuckles as she turns his way, hand on her hip, “Come on ‘fore I have to drag ya ass off myself. We got ballroom practice in two hours, and I can’t leave here until I know y’all niggas is up and at ‘em.”

Smoke finally finds some sense of balance as he slowly swings his legs over the side of the bed. He leans his head down into his hands, praying for Annie herself to give him strength.

Dee leisurely walks up to him with a glass of water and three ibuprofen, handing them to him with an amused look on her face. He has to swallow a bit of bile that threatens to escape as he lifts his head up to her, taking both with gentle movements.

She snickers at the sight of him, shaking her head lightly, “This gotta be the worst it’s ever been for you.”

After he’s done taking them, he clumsily places the empty glass back into Dee’s waiting hand. “Y’all must’ve tried to kill me.”

She just shrugs it off with a small grin, “Just wanted to see you have fun. Not like that ‘Last Night of Freedom’ bullshit, but in the ‘You Get to Stay Out Past 1 AM’ way.”

Smoke finally notices the stark difference in the state of the two of them, and he can’t help but throw a glare her way. “Why you ain’t half dead?”

Dee rolls her eyes at the question, “Nigga, I’m dealin’ with cramps right now. A headache is the least of my worries.” She grabs onto his arm, throwing it over her shoulder to help him as he comes to a stumbling standing.

She groans as he places a good bit of his weight onto her, “I forget y’all heavy as fo'-wheelers. I tried to help Stack get up too, but he just fell right over.”

Smoke eases up on her a bit as they both slowly tread him over to the bathroom.

Dee pats him on the back when she gets him to the sink, letting him lean on it for support. “Good job—“

Smoke winces harshly, and the both of them are taken aback for a moment before Dee lets out a guffaw.

“My bad, I forgot about ya back.” She gives him a lighter pat this time.

Smoke turns to her with scrunched eyebrows, his eyes a mixture of confusion and concern. “What’s wrong with my back?”

Dee’s eyes widen in surprise before shining in clear, devious delight. “Oh, please tell me you remember.”

His voice drops lower, concern turning into distress. “Remember what, Dee?”

“Maybe…” Her words trail as she holds back her laughter, “Maybe it’d be better to just show you.”

Dee gestures for him to remove his button-up, and hangover be damned, he quickly unbuttons it before tossing it to the ground. He turns his back to the mirror, and the second his eyes meet the reflection, he freezes like a deer in headlights. It’s only then that Dee lets her laugh release fully, tears falling from her eyes as she leans on the wall for support.

Right there, spanning from shoulder blade to shoulder blade, is Annie’s name written in an intricate twist of Old English lettering.

Smoke is completely speechless, his face ranging from emotion to emotion until he finally settles on a small smile, “Well, I’ll be damned.”

Dee coos a bit at his smile before shoving his shoulder, “You just the biggest damn loverboy, I swear. Stack made us stop to get matching tattoos, and the only thing you wanted to do was get branded for life.”

Smoke lets out his own small chuckle before asking cautiously, “Shit, what if she don’t like it? It’s big as fuck, Dee.”

Dee swats at his arm, shutting down his worries immediately. “Boy, hush. All them tattoos you got, she’ll probably just be surprised it took you this long to do it.”

“Well, she damn sure ain’t gone expect all this. This thing is damn near a mural.” His complaining falls short as his voice softens the more he sees of the tattoo.

Dee hums with a light giggle as she pulls her phone out, “Bo and I helped ya with the design of that one, but this one,” She turns the phone around to face him with an amused grin. "This was all you and Stack’s idea.”

The photo shows the small area right behind Smoke’s right ear. Written in a pretty cursive font with a slight curve to its structuring is “Mrs. Moore".

“When I told the guy you was gettin’ hitched, he threw this one in for free.” Dee smiles proudly as she adds with a shrug, “That, and he thought I was cute.”

Smoke brushes a finger over the area with another look of surprise. “She either gon’ kill me or gimme one helluva weddin’ night.”

“Aight now, loverboy.” Dee scoffs disgustedly before pocketing her phone. “Gone head and shower cause if you late, you ain’t makin’ it to nobody weddin’ night.” She throws him one last strict look before heading off.

Smoke simply shakes his head before returning to the mirror for a moment. He’s completely forgotten about the initial sickness he’d been dealing with, and he can’t help but feel wonderfully overcome with a sense of pride over his “branding”. The start of his day is flipped on its head, and he finally gets ready with a newfound pep in his step.

————————

Let me know what you guys think! I’ve already played out the night before a bit in my head, so if you guys would be interested in seeing that, I’d be more than excited to write it. I love the twins so much, and I really do enjoy writing about them and a little sister!

If I start writing more, I’ll put a masterlist together and if you wanna be tagged any future posts, let me know!

[bewitched-hours]

WOAH hey hi hello, i LOVED ur oneshots of telamon + child!reader and manifestation of wrath!reader, and i was wondering if you could make a part 2 of one of those, you could choose what to make a part 2 of, or you chould choose not to make a part 2 at all lol!

Make sure you get enough sleep and water and dont push yourself too hard!! <33

Y'all are too sweet omg-

But I will gladly do a part 2 on the child!reader with Telamon/Shedletsky since I was technically already kinda asking to be requested for that lol-

Like previously, reader's pronouns are She/Her!

You were terrified when you couldn't find Telamon anywhere. You knew how to take care of yourself for a few days but were absolutely sobbing for him to come back.

Did you do something wrong? Were you being too annoying again?

You weren't exactly given straight answers but what made it worse was when you somehow woke up in a completely different place. Surrounded by strangers.

You were mortified to say the least, screaming and crying the whole time as you tried to scream for 'Papa' which eventually got Shedletsky's attention and boy, was he quick to dash into the room and swoop you up.

At first you wanted to push him away in further panic but he quickly wrapped his wings around you in that familiar embrace that made you calm down almost instantly to look at his face and recognize him.

"Papa!" You'd exclaim with excitement, hugging him tight with your shaking figure while the other survivors began to panic and ask Shed a thousand questions.

Since when was he a dad, how old were you, etc etc...

He took some time to explain the story- leaving out the details about him being Telamon- while you were simply preening his wings as you liked to do.

You weren't sure why the others were calling him by a different name but you didn't bother to ask about it. What mattered most to you right now was that you had your papa back.

007n7 actually kinda offered to help out with you, given he was a dad as well and although you were wary of him, being that he was still a stranger, you accepted your papa's explanation of him being a friend and to please trust him.

Shedletsky knew you were a handful, especially with your stubbornness and distrust. But he was glad when you came around to trusting the other survivors.

You weren't sent with them on rounds often, given that you're only a child. However, you still had a role and when you were sent into a round, you usually stuck with the nearest survivor available. That usually happened to be Shedletsky, 007n7, Elliot or Chance.

You were more of a support, meaning you had different uses for each case.

For your papa, you'd raise feathery shield to protect him and rush ahead while the shield recharged again. You always hoped that he could escape in time as well...

For 007, you'd usually only have to heal him even though he insists he's fine. At that point he already became your uncle as you saw it with how he'd try to both protect you and keep you entertained during rounds so you wouldn't have to be traumatized as much.

With Elliot, you had a habit of healing each other and using your shield to protect him from getting targeted. You have no idea how grateful he is when he sees you nearby at the start of a round...

But with Chance, you practically become a second Elliot with how much he asks for heals and your shield. It's annoying but with the way he entertains you(usually with his gun exploding in his face), you allow his antics and even sometimes dare to call him uncle alongside Elliot and 007.

Sometimes the Spectre would be a little cruel and leave you without any of them outside of rounds. You'd just watch the TV to cheer them on and wait for any of them to get back... Like a lost puppy...

You technically had your own cabin but you never bothered going to it. You felt much safer with your papa after all.

And how you always loved to listen to his slow breathing to keep you calm...

Maybe you were a bit clingy-

Anything you'd like to request/ask? Check out my pinned post first and I'll be happy to write up whatever you want!

[soldierboysbeard]

“Kneel For Your Country”

Pairing: Soldier Boy x fem!reader

Content: oral (m receiving), mean!soldier boy, reader likes to suck dick for fun, sir kink, dom!soldier boy, sub!reader, porn without plot, Soldier Boy himself is a damn warning, slight degrading.

——————-

The door slammed behind him.

“On your knees.” Soldier Boy said, not even bothering with a hello.

My heart skipped. I scrambled off the edge of the bed and dropped to the floor, like he told me to. The carpet was rough against my knees, but I didn’t care. Not when I could hear the heavy clink of his belt, the rustle of leather, the smugness practically radiating off him.

“You look like a fucking dream,” he muttered, boots stopping just in front of me. “Or a really, really dirty fantasy.”

I looked up at him. He hadn't even taken off the damn suit.

"You been waiting like this long?"

"Yes, sir," | whispered, voice breathy.

He grinned-cocky, dangerous. "Cute. Bet you've been wet since I texted you."

I bit my lip, nodding. My thighs had been sticky for what felt like hours.

Soldier Boy pulled his cock free, thick and already hard, flushed deep red at the tip. He gave it a few slow strokes, just to tease me. Or himself. Maybe both.

"Then open that pretty mouth," he said, tapping the head of it against my lips. "And don't half-ass it. I like a performance."

I obeyed without hesitation. The moment he slid past my lips, he let out a low, satisfied groan.

"Fuck. There you go. Look at you-like you missed this."

I did. The taste of him, the weight, the way he filled my mouth and held my hair tight in his fist-it all made my skin buzz. I moaned, taking him deeper, relaxing my throat like l'd practiced. He chuckled, the sound rough and mean and stupidly hot.

"Shit, you take it so well," he murmured, hips giving a slow, deliberate thrust. "Knew you were a little slut the second I laid eyes on you."

My eyes watered, drool sliding down my chin. I gagged slightly, and that just made him groan louder. His other hand braced against the wall, letting him fuck my mouth at a slow, punishing rhythm.

"Messy," he said approvingly. "Sloppy and eager. That's how I like it."

I whimpered, hollowing my cheeks, doing everything | could to make him lose that cocky composure. But Soldier Boy didn't just lose control. He took it from you.

His voice dropped, almost gentle if it wasn't so filthy. "You want me to come in that mouth? Or all over your face, huh? Make you wear it like a medal?"

I moaned, unable to answer with my mouth full. He laughed darkly, tightening his grip in my hair.

"Too late," he growled.

He drove his hips forward harder, rougher, his breathing breaking into short gasps as I held on, lips swollen, throat aching-but I didn't stop. Wouldn't stop. I wanted it. Wanted him.

With a deep, guttural sound, he came, pulsing hot down my throat. I swallowed without being told, kept sucking until he hissed and pulled back, cock twitching, saliva and cum glistening on my lips.

He looked down at me, satisfied and smug as ever. "Damn, sweetheart. That's better than room service."

[mashtatosworld]

the end of the beginning

summary: it's Diva's first day of school. and this time, it's not Jiyong being the problem - but the menace herself.

The house had never felt so full and so quiet at the same time.

You were sitting on the floor of Diva’s room, her tiny legs swung over your lap as you sectioned off her hair with practiced hands. She handed you clips one by one, carefully choosing them from the pink box in front of her.

A perfectionist in the making.

“Rainbow,” she said solemnly, passing it over.

“Of course, rainbow,” you said, smiling as you clipped it in place.

Behind you, Jiyong was methodically packing her bag - checking the list for the third time, making sure her snack box was in the cooler pouch, her change of clothes were neatly folded in the side pocket, and the little stitched label with her name - Kwon Jia - was facing out.

His fingers hovered over the letters, tracing them almost absentmindedly.

She was really going. He sucked in his lips.

No. No more crying. He thought he had got it all out last night, lying in your arms as he came to terms with the fact that his baby was now four and would be starting big girl school.

Jiyong sighed. He just had to keep reminding himself that she'd have fun there. She'd play all day and come back with drawings for him.

Breathe. Breathe. Oh god, his eyes were watering again.

Angel stirring from sleep cracked through the baby monitor.

You looked up, already rising. “I’ll get her. Can you do socks and shoes?”

Jiyong nodded, dropping the sparkly pencil case back into the bag with a soft sigh. “Come on, princess,” he said, scooping up a pair of pink socks and her tiny white sneakers. “Let’s get your feet dressed.”

She sat, obliging at first, one sock nearly on before she asked sweetly, “Appa, what are you and Eomma gone do today?”

“Well,” he said, grinning as he adjusted the sock, “we’ll be home with Jemi. Maybe go for a walk. Clean up a bit.”

Diva froze.

Her face twisted into instant, fiery betrayal. “Without me?!”

Jiyong blinked. “Well... yes. Because you’ll be at school.”

“No,” she said flatly.

And then - with the speed of someone scorned - her foot yanked out of his hands and the sock was peeled off. Before he could even react, she whipped it across the room.

It hit the laundry basket with a dramatic thwap.

Jiyong stared. “W-what-”

“No go,” Diva declared, standing and stomping over to the bed. She climbed on top, grabbed her pink iPad, and flopped down like this was a perfectly normal Monday routine.

Jiyong scrambled to collect the socks. “Jia-yah, come on. Don’t you want to learn about shapes? You love shapes!”

“NO SHAPES,” came the sharp reply, muffled by the blanket she'd now thrown over her head.

He crept toward her, holding the shoes like offerings. “Jia, please, before Eomma tells me off.”

She started kicking when he got too close.

You walked in, Angel on your hip, blinking at the scene.

“What is happening in here? We're going to be late.”

“She’s can't go to school,” Jiyong said immediately, holding up the abandoned sock like it was evidence in a crime. “She’s not ready.”

Diva threw the blanket off, staring at you with big eyes. "I not ready."

You raised a brow. “You were so excited about using your Hello Kitty lunchbox fifteen minutes ago.”

Then Diva started crying - big, dramatic wails that were louder than necessary and accompanied by precisely zero actual tears.

You narrowed your eyes. She rarely cried. Not like this.

You crouched beside the bed, bouncing Angel gently. “Jia. Tell Eomma what’s wrong.”

She huffed, looked right at Angel, then did a full-body roll away from you, turning her back.

That’s when you knew.

This wasn’t sadness.

This was a tantrum.

You shot Jiyong a look.

He whispered, “I think she’s jealous. About Jemi. About us staying home.”

You turned back to Diva, stroking her hair gently. “Sweetheart, going to school doesn’t mean we won’t miss you. And you know Jemi can barely even talk yet, right? She just drools and kicks and looks surprised at ceiling fans.”

From behind, you heard Jiyong quietly agree, “We'll think of you the whole time."

Diva peeked over her shoulder, just a little. Still grumpy. But listening.

“And we’ll be waiting right here for you when you’re done,” you added softly. “We can get ice cream after.”

She was silent for a moment, staring, before her eyes narrowed at the three of you. "No. Go."

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

Diva had not forgiven anyone.

She was in the backseat in full protest mode - sandals strapped on only after Jiyong gave up on the socks entirely. The silver buckles were slightly too fiddly for her to take off on her own, which you suspected was the only reason she hadn’t chucked them out the window yet.

“She’s not ready,” Jiyong muttered under his breath as he pulled out of the driveway.

You side-eyed him. “We’re five minutes in.”

“Exactly, we can still turn back.”

“Appa,” came the syrupy voice from the backseat, her earlier wails now miraculously softened. “I love you so much.”

You turned your head. “That's very sweet, but that trick only works once.”

She'd done it before when you had taken her to the doctors office: butter up the weakest link, Appa.

“I do,” she added, voice climbing in sweetness. “I’m your baby. Don’t send me away. I be so sad.”

Jiyong bit his lip.

“Eyes on the road,” you said sharply. “Don’t fall for it.”

“I don’t fall for things.”

You sighed, choosing peace over war, turning back toward the window as Diva softly began humming - a made-up tune that sounded suspiciously like the words nooo schooolll over and over.

By the time you pulled into the school’s car park, Jiyong was pale.

“Let’s just take her on tour again,” he tried. “We can release a shared album.”

“She’s been on tour three times. Get out of the car."

You turned in your seat and gave Diva your firmest Eomma look. “Let’s go. Now.”

But she was suddenly limp.

“Jia - ”

“No. I not going.”

“Princess,” Jiyong said, opening the back door. "This is just as hard for me, as it is for you."

She screamed like she was being handed over to a villain.

“HELP ME!” she bellowed as Jiyong pulled her out, arms windmilling, sandals kicking wildly.

A concerned woman at the front gate turned, startled. Jiyong winced and smiled.

“It's fine, she’s mine,” he said quickly. “We have the same nose." He held her up next to his face.

You walked a few steps ahead, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing.

Diva’s arms were now locked around Jiyong’s neck like a boa constrictor. Her face was buried into his shoulder, wailing faintly, muffled by his jacket.

As the building got closer, her grip tightened. When he went to gently lower her to the ground, her legs stayed clamped around his waist.

“Princess,” he whispered, “you have to let go.”

“No!”

You tried to help, gripping her back, tugging gently. “Come on, baby. You’re going to have so much fun - ”

She immediately switched targets, flinging herself into your arms mid-transfer. You stumbled back, Angel still strapped in the carrier against your chest.

She let out an excited 'ah' at being so close to her sister.

“Okay,” you grunted. “Now I’ve got two clingy babies.”

“She’s really not ready,” Jiyong said again, adjusting the little back pack on his shoulder. “Maybe next term. Maybe uni.”

You glared at him. “You’re not helping.”

You looked down at the little tangle of arms and hair and pouty faces clinging to your torso like koalas.

“I not want you to have fun without me,” she sniffed.

You softened just a little. “We don’t have fun without you. It’s boring. And we’ll miss you so, so much.”

She looked up at you, big eyes shimmering.

You felt yourself wavering. Then -

“Don't let Jemi play with my toys."

You blinked. “What?”

“No toys Jemi!” she turned to her sister with stern eyes.

And just like that, you were back in tantrum territory.

You sighed and looked at Jiyong helplessly.

He looked at you, equally defeated.

Then you both looked down at Diva, still firmly attached.

It was going to be a long first day.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

When it came to school pick up, you both decided it was best Jiyong go alone.

Diva was already upset Angel was getting to spend the day with her parents, without her, and had blown a loud raspberry at her sister over Jiyong's shoulder as he carried her in.

You started pacing a little by the front door when they were almost an hour late.

Angel was in her bouncer, cooing happily to herself, entirely unaware that her older sister had apparently dropped off the face of the Earth along with your husband.

Maybe he took her for ice cream, you’d told yourself.

Maybe the park. Or the bookstore. Or that overpriced toy shop she loves that smells like plastic and sugar.

Still - you checked your phone again.

And that’s when the front door slammed.

You flinched.

In stomped Jiyong, his jaw tight and stormy as he threw his keys into the dish and his jacket somewhere near the coat rack.

Following close behind him was Diva - thunderous, stompy, backpack crashing to the floor in one dramatic hurl before she stormed down the hallway.

She didn’t even look at you.

You blinked.

“…Hi?” you called weakly after them.

Jiyong made a beeline for the kitchen. You watched as he grabbed a wine glass and filled it to the brim.

He took a long gulp, leaned on the counter, and let out a sharp sigh.

“She told her teacher I wasn’t her Appa.”

Your eyes widened. “What?”

“At pickup,” he bit, eyes narrowed. “I went to get her - just me - and she stood there and said, ‘He’s not my Appa.’ Just like that. And I didn't have my ID on me! Thank god we look alike.”

You stared at him. “You’re kidding.”

“Jagi, I wish I was. She’s lucky she’s cute.”

You tried to hide your smile, though it was difficult.

“She’s hurt, Ji,” you said gently, shifting closer and wrapping an arm around his waist. “Jealous. And probably hangry.”

“She got McDonald’s on the way back. I didn’t get McDonald’s. I couldn't even eat, I have emotional trauma.”

You kissed his cheek. “I’ll talk to her.”

He just nodded, taking his wine like it was medicine.

You made your way down the hall, stopping in front of her door, which was open just enough for you to peek in.

Diva was curled on her bed, her uniform torn off - vest still on, but no cardigan or shirt, and her little bowtie discarded somewhere on the floor. Her pink iPad was propped on her lap, playing some overly enthusiastic toy unboxing. She side-eyed you when she heard your steps but said nothing.

You smiled softly. “Hey, baby.”

No answer.

You crossed the room, crouched down beside her little bed, and gently swept her hair back from her face. She didn’t pull away, but she didn’t lean in either.

“How was school?” you tried.

“Fine.”

“Make any friends?”

“Don’t ‘member.”

You nodded, used to toddler stonewalling. “Appa said you told your teacher he wasn’t your Appa.”

She blinked, still watching her screen. You waited.

Then her head dipped, lips forming into a sad, shameful pout.

You were about to ask again - gently - when Angel’s cry suddenly rang out from the front room. You instinctively turned your head, just for a second, even though you knew Jiyong would get her.

But Diva noticed.

And she huffed, loud and deliberate, rolling over and pulling her iPad closer.

“Go back to your new baby.”

Oof.

You stilled. The ache in her voice was unmistakable, even if her words were sassy. The truth was written all over her little furrowed brows and pursed lips.

You eased onto the bed beside her, nudging her gently with your hip. “No way,” you said. “I’m staying right here.”

Your legs curled around her, fitting yourself into the tiny space like you used to when she was a baby. You peeked at her screen. “So… are they going to open that sparkly egg or what?”

She looked at you from over her shoulder.

Then, silently, she moved the iPad so you could see better.

You smiled.

You rubbed her back slowly as the video played. Her breathing started to even out. Her little body softened, the tension draining away with each swipe of your hand.

Eventually, she turned over, rested her head on your chest, and within ten minutes she was snoring softly - just like Jiyong always did after a sulk.

You laughed under your breath.

“He's definitely your Appa,” you whispered, even though only the walls could hear it.

You pulled the blanket up and wrapped it around her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

Your first baby. Still your baby.

Always.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

That evening you and Jiyong quietly padded into the living room.

He settled next to you on the couch, one leg bouncing slightly as he scrolled through photos of her from earlier that afternoon, pausing on a blurry one where she was wearing her backpack sideways and scowling at a pigeon. You leaned into him, watching the screen.

“She told me earlier... when Jemi cried… she said to go back to my new baby.”

Jiyong winced, his thumb pausing on the screen. “She's a tad dramatic."

“Hmm, I wonder where she gets that..." You then sighed loudly, resting your forehead on his shoulder. "Ji, she’s not mad at just one of us. She’s mad at both of us. We keep taking turns with her, like she’s a task.”

Ever since Angel was born, of course you and Jiyong had spent time with Diva one-on-one, whether that was shopping trips or pamper days - but never the both of you, together.

“We were just trying to make sure she got time with each of us…”

“Yeah, but not us. Like it used to be.”

He nodded slowly, then turned to you, determined. “Okay. So… tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow.”

He reached over and tapped your cheek. “Jia Day.”

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

The next morning’s school drop-off was as dramatic as ever.

It was already twenty minutes past the time you’d hoped to be in the car.

“Jiaaaa,” Jiyong called, walking down the hall with her shoes in hand, patience worn thin. “You said you were just grabbing your bag!”

No answer.

He pushed open the door to her room cautiously. Her curtains were drawn again, casting the space in sleepy shadow. And there she was - tucked neatly in bed, covers pulled up to her chin, staring at him from the pillow small and silent.

He squinted, flicking on the lights. “Why are you back in bed?”

She sniffled dramatically and he immediately hurried closer, kneeling beside her bed, smoothing a concerned hand over her hair.

"What's wrong my Princess?"

“I sick,” she said gravely, then without warning, leaned forward and with a loud, exaggerated, "ah-choo", fake-sneezed directly into his face.

He blinked. Slowly. Very slowly.

“…Okay,” he said flatly, wiping his nose with this sleeve. “Now Appa is sick too."

You appeared behind him with a suspicious look. “What now?”

“She’s suddenly got a mystery illness,” he replied with a helpless shrug.

"Oh really."

This was also another regularly used ploy from the Diva playbook.

Just a few weeks ago she hadn't wanted to go to Uncle Dae's birthday party after he accidentally broke Tabi - the latest of her electric toy cars. She had claimed she was 'sick', coughing all over the two of you until the word 'cake' was mentioned. And suddenly she'd been healed.

You glanced at Jiyong. He exhaled, rolling up his sleeves. “Okay. Time for plan B.”

“Wrestling her into her uniform again?” you asked with a wince.

“Unfortunately.”

Ten minutes later, and little progress had been made.

Jiyong was on his knees in her room, hair messed up, hoodie now discarded, gripping one of her sleeves while Diva shrieked dramatically and attempted to escape out the other side of her bed.

“I don’t like it!” she wailed, yanking her hair in frustration, catching him in the eye with a flailing elbow.

You hid in the hallway as Angel sucked her thumb on your hip, eyes wide.

“I don't like it either!” he huffed, struggling to get her into her cardigan as she flopped in protest.

Finally, somehow, she was in the uniform - her tiny bowtie was crooked, and her expression was a mix between deep betrayal and anguish - but she was dressed.

Then came the car seat.

You stayed inside for that part. You had limits.

But it hadn't been as disastrous as dressing her.

Only because Jiyong, wide-eyed and flushed with battle, had caved and handed her a grape lollipop just to get her into the car.

Now she sat in the back, legs swinging, sticky mouth, quiet only because her entire soul was consumed by that one sugar orb.

You gave him a look as he leaned out the window to kiss you goodbye. "She's going to have a sugar rush,"

“That’s gonna be the teacher’s problem,” he mumbled, drawing you in again for another kiss as if he was leaving for war.

You leaned in for a final embrace, and gently peeled off the glitter sticker that was still stuck to his temple. “You did good, Gdaddy.”

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

Then, later that day, you returned to her school gates - together. No Angel in tow. Just the two of you.

Diva spotted you immediately, approaching with a cautious shuffle. Her brows furrowed.

“Where Jemi?” she demanded immediately, still not quite trusting the situation.

“With Halmeoni,” you told her.

She looked between the two of you, analysing. Deciding. Then, without another word, she slipped one of her hands into yours, and the other into Jiyong’s.

You felt her tiny fingers squeeze yours tighter when you said, “We’re having a special day today. Just the three of us.”

She gasped. “Like… like a no Jemi day?”

“Well, we'll see her later, but right now...” Jiyong grinned, lifting her into his arms. “Is Jia Day.”

You’d packed a change of clothes so she wouldn’t be photographed in her uniform, and soon enough you were all seated at McDonald’s, watching her attempt to drink a milkshake with a straw she kept accidentally snorting.

She was delighted.

Then came the toy store.

Diva marched in like she owned the place, you and Jiyong trailing behind her.

“Oh no,” you said quietly, as she beelined toward a shelf of neon goo.

“She’s seen the slime,” Jiyong whispered back, hands resting on your shoulders.

She picked out a pot the size of her head and turned to you with a hopeful smile. “Eomma. Can I?”

You stared at it. “That… will end up in someone’s hair.”

“Jagiya,” Jiyong said softly, squeezing you with a grin. “We said whatever she wanted.”

Diva saw her opening and immediately launched a full-body hug attack on your leg. “Pweeease Eomma?”

You sighed. “Fine. But it stays in the kitchen. And nowhere near Jemi’s hair. Or my shoes.”

She did a little jump of victory. Diva continued round the store, sweeping the shelves of any toys.

And then, to your surprise, she picked out a weird, lopsided goblin doll and added it to the basket. “For Jemi.”

You blinked. “Really?”

“It look like her.”

"Oh," Jiyong nodded slowly, eyeing the creepy thing. "Well, that's very thoughtful to think of your sister."

"She need a toy too." Diva explained, tossing another bouncy ball in the basket for herself.

You and Jiyong locked eyes over her head and exchanged a silent, stunned high five.

Success.

Parenting success.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

When you and Jiyong arrived home, the house was quiet in that suspicious way that meant something was either deeply wrong or peaceful.

You rounded the corner into the living room and found Angel cradled in his mother’s arms, dressed in what could only be described as a... costume.

She was wearing a ruffled onesie with a tutu attached and at least four bows pinned into her hair, one on top of the other like decorative cherries. She blinked up at you both.

“She didn’t cry once,” his mother said proudly, bouncing her a little.

Jiyong sighed in relief. Although Angel rarely cried, she was very clingy. But it seemed that Halmeoni was enough to keep the chubby baby happy.

You grinned, kissing Angel’s plump cheek as you thanked Jiyong's mother and walked her out, promising next time you'd leave both grandkids with her.

Once she left, Diva settled herself in the living room, surrounded by her new toys. Angel was in her playpen, blissfully chewing on the horrifying goblin plush.

You stood in the kitchen with Jiyong, finally catching your breath, sipping tea and leaning against the counter.

"They're playing with their new toys..."

"Yep." You nodded, taking a slow sip as you stared at him with curious eyes. Your husband continued to slink closer, a mischievous grin on his face.

"So, do you think we have enough time to slip away?" He ran a hand from the nape of your neck all the way to your backside, lingering there with a firm grip. "It will only take us five minutes."

"For me, or for you?" You laughed with a scoff.

"Both," He shrugged, confident in his bedroom skills.

Then Zoa padded by, tail high.

With slime stuck in her fur.

Bright green, glittery slime.

You and Jiyong froze, slowly turning to look at each other.

“Oh no.”

You both broke into a sprint.

The living room looked like it had lost a fight with an alien lifeform.

Diva stood beside the sofa, expression unreadable, her entire front glistening with slime. Her bangs were matted straight to her forehead like a greasy helmet. The armrest of the couch had a neon glow.

Angel was now somehow out of her playpen, gurgling and chewing on Goblin Baby. Both green and gooey.

Your eldest stared back at you both. Not guilty. Not smug. Just accepting her fate.

You let out a long, soul-worn sigh. “I’ll start running the bath.”

Jiyong nodded, deadpan. “I’ll try to save the sofa.”

You pointed at him. “And that is the last time slime enters this house.”

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

Bath time was a mission.

Diva went in first, leaving a greasy ring of green goo in the water. Then Angel, who actually enjoyed it, with her hair spiked into a soapy spike. Zoa was wiped down with a damp cloth - she was not pleased.

And now it was Iye’s turn - the cat, standing ankle-deep in the sink, yowling like she was being sacrificed.

Jiyong stood over her, scratched and soaked, attempting to hold her in place with a kitchen towel. “I am going to bleed out here!"

“We have band-aids,” you muttered from your position beside him at the counter, where Diva sat on it, wrapped in a towel.

You were trying - desperately - to comb through her bangs. The slime had set like cement.

“Ow,” Diva whined, squirming.

"Stop moving or you'll really look like Appa." You said as her hair seemed to be getting shorter and shorter with each cut.

You gently snipped at the clumps of matted hair, trying to salvage something vaguely respectable. It was not going well.

Angel was on the floor on a towel, watching the chaos unfold with wide, amused eyes, kicking her little legs like she was at a front-row show.

“We shouldn't have bought that slime,” Jiyong muttered, struggling with the soaked, hissing cat. “How are you always right?”

You shrugged. "I'm raising three Jiyong's. I've learnt a lot."

You then paused in your trimming and looked at your daughter’s very, very uneven fringe.

“...Maybe hats. You'll need hats for a few weeks.”

Diva looked at herself in the mirror and shrugged. “I like it.”

You caught your husband's eyes in the reflection - wet, scratched, exhausted - and just started laughing. Because somehow, despite the mess and madness, this was still the sweetest kind of chaos.

Your chaos.

And slime or not - you wouldn’t change a thing.

Well. Maybe the sofa.

And Iye was never forgiving any of you.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

You gently pull the blanket up over Diva’s chest, tucking it beneath her arms as she blinks sleepily at you both. Her bangs - uneven, but absolutely charming - stick slightly to her forehead as she gives you a slow, satisfied smile.

“Did you have a good day, sweetheart?” you ask softly.

She nods, already half in dreamland. “Mmhmm… I wanna show my school friends my new hair.”

Before either of you can say anything else, she’s fully out - mouth slightly open, eyelashes long and damp from the bath, fingers still curled around the edge of her blanket.

You switch on her night light and tiptoe out together, quietly pulling the door closed behind you.

In the hallway, Jiyong exhales.

“You hear that?” you grin, bumping your shoulder against his. “She’s made friends already. Our little socialite.”

He nods, but when you glance up at him, his hand is moving discreetly across his face.

“…Are you crying?”

“No,” he says, immediately defensive, voice thick.

You raise an eyebrow.

He wipes at his eyes again and shrugs helplessly. “It's just all hitting me now - school... Our baby goes to school. And I was her first friend,” he mumbles. “Now she has others.”

You stare at him for a second before wrapping both arms around his waist, pulling him in. His forehead drops against your shoulder as he sniffles dramatically.

“Oh my big baby,” you coo, rubbing his back, “do you need some attention too?”

“…Maybe.”

You laugh softly and kiss the top of his head. “Alright, come on then. Let’s get you to bed before you start asking for slime too.”

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

happy Diva Day!! our baby is growing up fast - im not crying, you are 😭

the next diva series will hopefully include angel more <3 bless her

thank you for reading! slime was highly requested for this series - and it's not the last we'll see of it...

love always,

mash

xxx

taglist: @petersasteria, @mirahyun , @allthoughtsmindfull , @gdinthehouseee , @infinetlyforgotten , @redhoodedtoad , @kathaelipwse , @lxvemaze , @loveesiren , @sherrayyyyy , @getyoassoutthetrunk , @shieraseastarrs , @ctrldivinev , @xxxicddbr88 , @onyxmango , @tryingtolivelifeblog , @tulentiy , @bettelaboure , @breakmeoff , @emmiesoverthemoon , @rafesbunniebby , @ricecake9999 , @fleabagspurplewife , @sylviavf , @ldydeath , @wonyluvi , @deliciousmagazinequeen , @heartubeatusalon , @imminsugasgf , @steponupbabe, @moontabi , @1950schick , @wcnderlnds

[airandyeah]

Crying For Help (Alpha!Higuruma X Omega!Reader X Alpha!Nanami) Pt.16

My Masterlist Series Masterlist

The soft rustle of fabric and the subtle clink of cologne bottles filled Nanami’s apartment as the three of you got ready for the night. There wasn’t the usual rush, no looming deadlines or court filings—just the low hum of music playing from the speakers and the warmth of shared space.

Your dress lay across the bed, still untouched, while you leaned against the bathroom doorway, watching as Nanami adjusted the cuffs of his dark button-up. His scent, unmasked and rich with Alpha calm, filled the apartment now that all of you had decided—no scent patches tonight. This wasn’t work.

Higuruma walked past you shirtless, toweling off the last bits of his damp hair from the quick shower he'd taken. You barely caught yourself from gawking, but it wasn’t like you had to pretend anymore. The both of them were bare-necked, revealing faint marks along their throats and collarbones—proof of the week’s worth of late nights and heated mornings.

And you were no better.

You caught sight of your own reflection in the mirror above Nanami’s dresser. Even with makeup and careful styling, the soft bruises blooming down your neck and over your shoulder were hard to miss. Not vulgar—just... intimate.

“You’re staring,” Higuruma murmured as he walked by again, brushing his knuckles against your hip.

You didn’t deny it. “So are you.”

Nanami’s voice came from the other side of the room, dry as ever. “If we keep this up, we’ll never leave on time.”

You rolled your eyes but turned to grab your dress, the silky material slipping easily over your skin. Higuruma zipped it up for you, his hands lingering at the small of your back.

Nanami slipped his watch on and looked between the two of you, something almost soft in his gaze.

“Ready?”

“Only if Gojo’s mouth is preoccupied with food the entire time,” you muttered, grabbing your purse.

Higuruma chuckled lowly. “I’m sure Suguru has a plan for that.”

The three of you left the apartment together—no masks, no patches, just yourselves. The world would smell the truth of your bond tonight. ~~~

The restaurant was dim and modern, all warm lighting and dark wood, humming softly with quiet conversation and clinking glasses. The private corner booth was already half full when the three of you arrived—Gojo sprawled out on one side like he owned the place, and Suguru sitting next to him, composed and smiling politely.

“About time,” Gojo teased, raising his glass lazily. “I was starting to think your little hickey parade was slowing you down.”

“Gojo,” Suguru murmured, not even glancing at him as he reached for the wine list.

Nanami’s eyes narrowed as he slid into the booth across from them, with you settling beside him and Higuruma taking the seat to your other side, the warm press of both Alphas at your hips grounding you.

You smirked. “Sorry to disappoint, Satoru. We made it just fine without biting each other on the street.”

“Yet,” Higuruma added under his breath, and you felt your face heat while Nanami gave him a sideways look that was all quiet warning.

Gojo leaned forward, eyes dancing. “I’m just happy you all finally snapped and started dating. I had money on it.”

“Of course you did,” Nanami muttered, smoothing his napkin over his lap.

Suguru cleared his throat gently and finally looked up, his dark eyes meeting yours first, then shifting to both men beside you. “We’re really happy for you,” he said calmly. “It’s rare to see a triad work in your kind of environment. You’re making it look easy.”

“Not easy,” you murmured, picking up your water. “But worth it.”

Suguru nodded slowly. “Exactly why I wanted to ask for this dinner.”

Gojo, for once, went quiet beside him, the smile on his face dimming just enough for you to realize this wasn’t just a casual night out.

Higuruma’s brow ticked. “There’s a reason behind this?”

Suguru folded his hands. “There’s something we thought you should know. Not to alarm you—but there’s been some noise. Whispers at the firm. A few people—higher up—have started questioning the nature of your relationship.”

You stiffened instinctively, your eyes darting to Nanami, whose jaw tensed immediately. Higuruma’s fingers tapped lightly against the table.

“It’s not jealousy,” Gojo added softly, “though there’s probably some of that. It’s politics. Optics. A triad of your structure is rare in this kind of workplace, and it’s raising... questions. Ones that could affect your cases.”

You swallowed tightly, fingers curling in your lap.

Suguru leaned forward, voice calm. “We’re not telling you this to scare you. We wanted you to know before someone else twisted it into something worse. But it might be time to start thinking about how you want to protect yourselves.”

There was a beat of silence as you all absorbed that.

Then Nanami spoke, voice low and sure. “We appreciate the warning.”

“And the honesty,” Higuruma added, more gruffly.

You looked up at Suguru. “What would you do, if it were you?”

Suguru hesitated only for a second. “I'd make sure the bond is stronger than the gossip. Make it known, but on your terms. Let the world see how steady you are. Then they won’t question it—they’ll just accept it.”

Gojo raised his glass again, this time less mocking, more solid. “To being steady.”

Nanami clinked his own glass against it. “To being undeniable.”

You looked at your Alphas, and then back at the two men across from you. The date might’ve started light and flirtatious, but now something heavier hung between all of you—respect, protection, and unspoken solidarity.

“I’ve been thinking,” Suguru began, voice even, yet carrying weight. “About something important.”

You tilted your head, noticing how even Gojo sobered at that tone. Nanami straightened beside you. Higuruma set his glass down slowly.

“A pack,” Suguru said, gaze flicking to each of you. “You three should form one.”

Your brow creased. “A pack?”

“Yes,” Suguru replied. “Official. Structured. With a Beta pair to help round it out. A proper unit. Shoko and Utahime already agreed to stand with you, if you want them. They trust you. So do I.”

Gojo leaned back, unusually quiet, but his thumb brushed across Suguru’s hand. The subtle motion said enough.

“And… you’re suggesting this why?” Higuruma asked, voice measured.

“Because the office is whispering. Because people love to tear apart what they don’t understand, especially when it’s powerful and unconventional. And because… I don’t want you three to go through what we did.”

You swallowed hard, heart twisting. “Your old pack…”

“Rejected us,” Suguru finished. “Not with words, but with silence. We’ve been lone for a long time. That’s fine for us—we’re used to fighting uphill. But you three? You deserve better. You deserve protection. Family. A proper foundation.”

Nanami didn’t speak, but you could feel the subtle nod in his posture, the quiet agreement in the way his fingers brushed yours.

“Shoko and Utahime said yes?” you asked.

Suguru nodded. “With full intent. Shoko’s medical license will also help keep things secure if anyone ever tries to dig. Utahime’s government ties help politically. It’s a smart move. But it’s also a heartfelt one.”

You glanced at Nanami, at Higuruma, both of them watching you with something open in their gazes—trust. Soft devotion.

“And you’d stand with us? Be part of this pack”

Gojo finally grinned, though it was a little smaller than usual. “We’d be honored.”

Suguru added, quiet and resolute, “We’d be your shield, if you’ll have us.”

You exhaled, warmth coiling tight in your chest. This—this was bigger than you’d imagined. But it felt right. Deeply right.

“Alright,” you said softly. “Let’s make a pack.” ~~~

The apartment was quieter than usual, a rare kind of stillness that settled like reverence.

You sat on the large sectional with Nanami to your right and Higuruma on your left, their presence steady, grounding. Across the coffee table, Suguru and Satoru flanked Shoko and Utahime, each one carrying their own quiet seriousness beneath familiar smiles. It felt like the calm before something sacred.

A thick envelope lay on the table — the finalized agreement. Not legal, per se, but binding in a different way. It held rules, expectations, vows, and a signature line for each of your names. A physical contract that would bind you as a pack, not by government standards, but by your own chosen family’s code.

Shoko lit a candle — more symbolic than anything else — and set it at the center of the table beside the document.

“Alright,” she said with a small grin, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Let’s make this weirdly formal.”

Suguru chuckled softly. “It’s not weird. Packs are sacred. The world may have forgotten that, but we haven’t.”

Satoru added, “Besides, I brought champagne.”

Utahime rolled her eyes affectionately. “You brought three bottles.”

Kento reached for the pen first. “Should I start?”

“No,” Suguru said, “she should.”

You blinked. “Me?”

Suguru met your gaze. “You’re the heart of this. Alpha or not, it’s your bond with all of us that made this happen.”

You hesitated for a moment, but with Kento’s warm nod beside you, you leaned forward. The paper crackled faintly as you signed your name across the first line. One stroke after the next, your hand didn’t tremble once.

Kento signed next, then Hiromi. Suguru followed, his name fluid and bold, then Satoru with a dramatic flourish. Shoko smirked as she signed, and Utahime’s signature was clean and firm.

When it was done, Shoko folded the paper neatly and tucked it into a protective sleeve.

“That’s it,” she said. “We’re a unit now. A real pack.”

There wasn’t a moment of cheer or raucous laughter — not yet. Instead, there was a kind of silence that filled the room like warmth. Like belonging.

Satoru popped a bottle, bubbles spilling over the rim of the glass. “Now it’s real.”

Suguru raised his glass. “To new family. Chosen, not given.”

“To protection,” Utahime added.

“To love,” Kento said quietly, eyes brushing over you.

You smiled, glass in hand, throat tight with emotion.

“To us.” ~~~

The second bottle of champagne had long since been emptied, laughter echoing between the walls as the group slowly melted into the couch and rug and any surface that would hold them. Shoko and Utahime were curled up together in one of the armchairs, while Suguru sprawled out on the floor, his head on Satoru’s thigh as he absently braided strands of his hair. You had settled between Kento and Hiromi, warm and buzzed, your limbs loose and your heart full.

Satoru shifted suddenly beside you, his silver lashes heavy with drink and comfort. Without warning, he leaned into your side, nuzzling gently at your shoulder. A low, content hum left his throat as he nestled against your scent gland, rubbing his cheek just beneath your jawline.

You blinked, surprised but not upset. Satoru always got cuddly when he drank, especially with other omegas — it was a soft, instinctive thing, the kind of closeness omegas rarely got to indulge in without worry. It didn’t feel romantic, not exactly. Just warm. Safe.

Without thinking, you returned the gesture, nuzzling against his neck. The moment your scent mixed with his, the room shifted slightly.

Three low sounds — practically coos — echoed from behind you.

Kento was watching with the kind of fond look you’d rarely seen grace his features in public, something soft tugging at the edges of his usually stoic face.

Hiromi chuckled, the sound warm and surprisingly relaxed. “That’s too cute.”

Suguru added, “You two omegas are going to give our instincts a meltdown.”

You could feel your cheeks flush, but you didn’t pull away. If anything, Satoru leaned further into you, mumbling something incoherent that sounded suspiciously like “so soft, you smell like honey and home”. You laughed, muffling it into his shoulder as your hand found his.

Kento shifted, his hand ghosting along your lower back, a grounding touch. “Don’t let him pass out on you.”

“No promises,” you murmured, but your voice was light.

The scent in the room was rich — safe, bonded, happy. The way a pack should smell.

And as you looked around at the people who had become your home, you felt it in your bones.

You were loved.

Taglist is always open for anyone! Just comment, send an ask, or a DM and I'll add you! Taglist: @ollyissleepy , @erintaro , @hellv1ra , @odysseusmom Perma Tags: @thenightperson , @makingtimemine , @nina-from-317

[vvalentiqq]

kinich x reader.. please..

Kinich x Drunk!Reader

“Just a little tipsy”

Content: collegeau, a little bit of ooc, silly, gender neutral reader, reader is referred with they/them, anypov reader. Mention of Nausea and vomit (you don’t actually puke), sort of short, reader and kinich have a crush on eachother

Note to requester: I didn’t exact know how you wanted since you just put Kinich x reader but I had my own spin to it. Hope you enjoy it!

The flashing LED lights, and the strong scent of fruity cocktails. Vibrations bounced off the walls, as music seep through the wooden frames. You walk to the refreshment table and served yourself some of the fruity alcohol-infuse punch. You gently squeeze the bright red cup. You placed it to your lips taking a sip, you were getting more tipsy. You let out a tiny gag, as you put your drink down. You needed to sit and drink some water. However, this was a college house party after all. Sitting down wasn’t an option, so with a groan you walk towards the trashcans that were by the side of the house.

It was secluded and you can finally hear your own thoughts now. You felt dizzy, and nauseous, and you wanted to gag. Your phone buzzed, coming from your so-called friend who forced you to come to this dumb house party in the first place. You were barely walking out of class and all of a sudden you were surrounded by your friends. Then you were peer pressured into coming. “Gosh.. what did they want now?..” you groaned as you clicked the message, ‘hey! Where u at!! There doing beer pong!’ You rolled your eyes at the message you couldn’t think straight. You leaned your head against the brick wall of the exterior of the house. Even then you could feel the vibrations.

Then, your phone buzzed again. However not from your friend, this time.

Kinich: “hey (y/n), do you have the notes from yesterday? I had to do some volunteer work with Ifa at the vet.”

Kinich stared at his blank pages and let out a sigh as he waited for your reply. He was your classmate, he always seemed so serious. But that mystique was attractive so, you might have gained a small crush on him. He was a bit blunt, it gave him character though. His phone started to ring, it buzzed against his wooden desk. He picked it up putting it to his ear.

“Heyyy… kimchi?… kimichi.. sorry Kinch Uhmm sorry about this but I’m not.. home-“

The sound of music muffled could be heard, your words were slightly slurred. The alcohol was definitely kicking in now. You honestly felt like you wanted to pour feelings out right there and then. You slumped onto the ground sitting on the cold cement. The sun was set already as you looked up to the sky, the moon was out. You broke out of your trance as you heard a giggle from the other end of the call. You blushed a bit, Kinich usually was so nonchalant, and always seem to have a serious expression. Hearing his laugh was nice to hear, like a sigh of acknowledgment.

“Kimchi? I’m not a side dish, am I?” he liked this, he could tell you were drunk. But when you were like this your guard was lower. Usually in class he could tell you kept your guard up hoping not upset him or anything. He was just a chill guy, he never understood why’d you had to overthink about how he react and stuff. He found it unnecessary, why couldn’t you be comfortable around him just like this.

“I might just be a littlee tipsy.. hah- I wonder if your hairs green, or is it black?... i don’t know.. it looks soft- hic- you know.. you remind me of a leaf- or lettuce..” You were blushing out of embarrassment you knew you should stop rambling but you couldn’t. He seemed more carefree, it might be the alcohol. You started to trace circles in the cold cement and he just listened. You let out a whine, before speaking up “I wanna leave, I’m hungry, my legs are tired, I wanna throw up- and and-“, “where are you?” What? It was definitely the alcohol right?, his voice rang in your ears.

“Me?.. why?”

“You can’t be driving around drunk like that..”

“I can just get a ride-“

“I’ll come get you just stay there..”

You can slightly hear the jingle of his car keys and him opening his front door in the background. You sent him the address as you just sat there. The call had ended leaving you in shock, the aloof Kinich…was coming to get you? Wait- does that mean he liked you? You couldn’t help but feel a bit giddy as you started to kick your feet and twirl your hairs. Then again he was known for showing a bit of compassion to others once and awhile.

You got up from the cement, you swatted at your butt to take off any debris. You might as well wait in the front, you thought. You sighed as you walked the corner turning back into the party. The scent of alcohol made you want to vomit even more, you looked around at the couples making out. And the random game of ping pong. You might as well say bye to your friend while you’re here. You made your towards them before feeling someone tug you backwards, there arm grabbing at your waist.

“Hey cutie, how about you give me a kiss??.. mm~” He reeked of alcohol, he nuzzled his head into your neck. You pulled away slapping away his arms “what the- ewh..!get off me asshole!” Maybe it was the alcohol in his system but he was way too close for comfort. You weren’t even that tipsy yet, you walked away clearly pissed but he couldn’t catch the hint. “Come on.. don’t play hard to get.. hic-“ he grabbed your arm again, pushing you against a wall.

“Hey, fuck off.” He was soon pulled off of you and you saw him. Kinich, he clearly wasn’t pleased to see you cornered by this random guy. He glared at him as he grabbed your wrist, his eyes were golden with a hint of green. He lead you out to the front door. Once you were in the yard you stared at him clearly still a little woozy. “U-uhm.. thank you..” that sobered you up, he let go of your wrist. He let out a disappointed groan before pushing his hair back.

“Are you hungry still?” Was he seriously asking that? He was a bit blunt at times and couldn’t read a room either. “A little..? Why?” He walked towards his car, you followed behind. “Alright then, are you down for some street tacos?” You looked at him, about 3 minutes ago some guy was cornering you and now he’s asking if you want go get some food. “Honestly, sure.. anything to get out this fucking place.” He opened the passenger seat for you and you stepped in. You glanced at him as he stepped into the car as well.

“Your weird”

“Hm? How so..?”

“You seriously don’t want to talk about what happen back there?”

“I didn’t want to bring it up, since you seemed like you didn’t want to mention it?”

Was he seriously a doormat or something? You let out a giggle, he was weird. His mystique just happen to hide it that’s all. But a little weird wasn’t bad or anything. You leaned in and pressed a gently kiss on his cheek. “Once again, thank you.. I appreciate you for doing that for me.. oh and- picking me up too..” you stay sat in your seat a bit embarrassed for what you just did. But only if you knew how much it was affecting him too. His hand reached down to your hand, he held it in his warm grasp slightly squeezing it as his other hand rested on the wheel.

That whole car ride was just slight glances, and his hand held yours the whole ride. He was always so aloof, so getting the chance to see his compassionate side was nice too. And who knows maybe those tacos would be pretty good too!! <3

Note:

I’ve never written for kinich before so I apologize if it’s isn’t good but if you enjoyed it let me know!!thank you to my sweetie pies that were nice enough to review it!! N, @prtyhat @crepezinhos

[demonpoppyseed]

Prompt: jealous daniel or eric x amused armand or assad 🥰

Thank you for the prompt 😁

.🖤🖤🖤.

Eric slumped down in his seat and glowered, no longer looking at his phone.

“What are you pouting about?” Jo said.

She had her phone propped up against a mixing bowl, and when Eric looked down at his screen he saw her nose close to the camera, covered in a dusting of flour.

“I’m not pouting,” he said, pouting. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’ve got flour on your nose.”

Jo laughed as she straightened up and rubbed at her face.

“You can’t fool me, mister,” she said.

Eric groaned.

“I’m hanging up on you now,” he said. “Bye.”

“Bye, babe,” she said, grinning. “I can’t wait ‘til I get my hands on you.”

He hung up on her mid-wink, dropping his phone into his lap with an irritated huff. Then, a moment later, he picked it back up and texted, Love you.

She texted back immediately, I love you too, you big dope.

He looked up at Assad and Luke on the other side of the soundstage and sighed.

He was being a dope. A big, dumb fucking dope. He watched Assad and Luke laugh hysterically as Assad jumped onto Luke’s back, nearly knocking him over.

They had to be fucking, he thought. The flirting had escalated during this season of filming, building from suggestive comments to full on roughhousing in a matter of weeks.

It was stupid to be upset about it, but he had thought...

No, it was stupid, full stop. It was just fucking stupid.

He fidgeted with his phone a bit and then slid it into his pocket. He wished he could leave, but with ten minutes to their call time he had nowhere to go other than the bathroom.

Luke spun, pretending to try to knock Assad off his back, and suddenly Assad was looking right at him.

Their eyes locked.

Shit.

Well, he’d already been caught staring, Eric reasoned. Might as well commit.

As the moment lengthened, Assad’s grin widened. Then, Luke really did drop him, and the moment was over.

“Goddamnit,” Eric muttered to himself.

He couldn’t keep watching this. They’d be kissing any minute, he was sure. He pushed himself to his feet. He would go to the bathroom, splash some cold water on his face, take a few deep breaths, and then he’d be fine.

In the bathroom, he faced himself in the mirror.

“Get your shit together, you dumb fuck,” he told his reflection. “You pathetic old perv. Jesus Christ, man.”

His reflection stared back at him, looking like an idiot.

As soon as he’d bent down and splashed cold water on his face, the bathroom door banged open and Luke and Assad tumbled in.

“Oh, sorry, man,” Luke said, sounding genuinely embarrassed. Eric looked at him, and then at Assad, who looked not at all surprised to see him there.

Luke started backing out of the bathroom, laughing awkwardly.

“We weren’t— I mean, we were just—”

Eric felt a muscle twitch in his jaw.

“Hey,” Assad said to Luke. “I gotta take a leak. I’ll meet you out there, yeah?”

Luke gave him a slightly confused look but nodded.

“Uh, yeah, okay,” he said. “See ya.”

Assad stood watching as the door swung shut, then turned his smug gaze on Eric, still bent over the sink.

As they stared at each other, Eric wrestled with himself.

You will not do something stupid, he told himself. You will not do something stupid.

Then, Assad licked his lips.

Eric had him up against the wall before he knew what he was doing.

Assad laughed, breathless, pushing experimentally against the big hands pressing on his broad shoulders. Eric tightened his grip, growling.

“God, you’re easy,” Assad said, “Can’t believe it took me this long to figure it out.”

Furiously, Eric kissed him, biting at his lip until Assad’s laughter turned to desperate, breathy little whines.

Jo was going to be insufferable about this.

[prettiestmini]

SPOILED

A Oneshot ⭑.ᐟ

James Kelly x reader

Warnings: fluff, cuteness, fingering at the end, squirting if you squint, tiny bit of praise.

Dividers not mine! Credits to @princessantisocial (won’t let me tag :(( )

Proof read ! Feedback is appreciated

Work had really been kicking your ass lately, you’ve come home exhausted everyday for nearly two weeks. And James hated to see you work yourself into the ground like this.

It was a very dull Friday, walking into the house and sluggishly kicking your shoes off. You were prepared to clean and cook dinner.. but it was suspiciously clean already.. odd?

Walking into the kitchen in confusion, you saw James with bags of takeout. ‘ What are you doing??’ Eying him suspiciously ‘ What do you mean? I bought dinner’ he shoved a fry in his mouth, seems like he showered already.

‘ Yes.. but you cleaned the house too..’ you were getting skeptical ‘ Okay..? I can clean the house’ he replied in confusion, shrugging.‘ Well yeah but you only really clean it when you did something and wanna apologize for it.’ You looked around the kitchen.

‘What— that was like one time’ James retorted but you cut him off. ‘ Yeah so what did you do now-‘ then he cut you off ‘ Nothing! I didn’t do anything, relax would you? Now c’mere’

You sighed, walking over and standing in front of him. He pulled you in, wrapping his arms around your waist. ‘..So why did you clean? ‘ looking up into his blue eyes, accepting the fry he put in your mouth. ‘ You’ve been tired.. wanted to take care of you today.’

‘ oh.. that’s- thats really nice of you.. but where’s Mallory?’ You hummed up at him ‘ Dropped her off at your moms an hour ago, she’ll be there all weekend.’ He smiled, kissing your nose gently.

You two ate dinner, which was your favorite type of Mexican takeout. But James, being the oddball he was- ordered a burger and fries instead of the actual Mexican food.

When the both of you finished eating he cleaned up and took you into the bedroom. ‘ Get naked’ he instructed, lighting a few candles. ‘ oh yeah? I’m liking this evening already..’ you made quick work of your shirt and pants.

James chuckled at your enthusiasm ,, ‘ Hold your horses sugar, we ain’t getting to those activities just yet..’ he murmured, kissing your temple. ‘ I’m runnin’ you a nice hot bath’ slowly smiling up at him ‘ A bath? That sounds heavenly right now..’ He hummed, ‘ I know it does, a good bath always relaxes you. I’ll even add the oils and stuff you put in mine.’

After waiting awhile you finally sank into the hot bath, instantly relaxing against the porcelain tub. This was exactly what you needed, your muscles loosened up in the water. Turning your head over to James who sat on a little stool.

‘ Thank you.. I really needed this..’ you hummed, ‘ Don’t thank me, gotta pamper my wife..’ he kissed your lips gently. ‘ My gorgeous wife, mother of my daughter, my soulmate, and my best friend.’ He smiled softly, genuine. It even made you tear up a bit.

He was washing your back, and it felt amazing. The sudsy towel rinsing away the dirt and the stress work gave you. This was so refreshing, his hands eventually got you nice and clean. Before helping you out of the tub, wrapping you in a towel.

Walking into the candlelit bedroom, there was a towel laid out on the bed. Looking to the side you saw the heating pad plugged in up under it, some oil nearby. ‘ what is this for?’ Turning to him, holding the towel up. ‘ Your massage sugar, now on the towel you go. Got it real nice and warm from the heatin’ pad.’

Laying stomach down on the towel, it was perfectly warm. Relaxing into it, closing your eyes and waiting for James to start. You could hear his movements, he turned on some nice relaxing music. Strolling over he crawled onto bed and straddled your thighs.

Pouring the oil onto his hands, he leaned down and worked it into your back— extracting a deep sigh from you. His hands felt amazing, just so big and warm. Kneading every knot and sore spot with practiced ease, and you just melted into the bed.

‘ This feels so good..’ you mumbled, completely on cloud nine right now. Eyes fluttering when James kneaded your shoulders, applying the perfect amount of pressure.. ‘ I’m glad it feels good darlin.. you’re so tense’

‘ Mhm…’ you mumbled out, feeling that familiar heat pool between your thighs. It felt so damn good, massages were your near favorite thing. James’ skilled hands smoothed down your back, working in on the muscles just above your ass.

‘ You awake baby?’ He piped up behind you, working down to your ass. Kneading the round globes in his big hands, fingers squeezing and his palms cupping them. ‘ mhm.. yeah’ you had to stifle a moan, hoping he didn’t notice.

His oil clad hands went lower and lower, your pussy was throbbing at this point. But you didn’t wanna ruin it.. not now anyways. His hands massaged your thighs, working them against his hands. He hummed before trailing it up, index finger slowly going down your soaked folds.

‘ Wow.. you’re so wet already baby.. is this for me?’ He smiled behind you, finger tracing around your aching hole.. dipping it in before pulling out. ‘ uh huh.. it’s for you..’ letting out a soft moan at his finger teasing your poor hole.

He chuckled lowly. ‘ I know it is baby.. I know it is..’ his thick index finger slid in to the knuckle, pulling a gasp from you. ‘ That’s it.. want another finger in this greedy hole don’t you? Hm?’ Before you could open your mouth, his middle finger was already sliding right in beside the first one.

‘ Nngh..’ you breathily moaned, hole clenching around his thick fingers. They started to thrust deeper, scissoring you deliciously. ‘ Mmph.. fuck..’ your hips wiggled, but his other hand kept you in place.

‘ that’s my girl.. feels so good don’t it?’ His third finger slipped in, making your eyes flutter shut. Picking up the pace, they curled against that special spot. God the sound was disgusting, noisily squelching around his fingers. ‘ Mm, this pussy is loud tonight huh? Just how I like it..’

‘ Mhm.. feels so good Jamie..’ releasing a high pitched keen as his thumb found your puffy clit, rubbing relentless circles on it. Fingers roughly fucking into you, your pussy was sucking them in greedily.

‘ There you are.. gonna cum for me sweetheart? You know you can do it..’ His voice murmured behind you,, fingers speeding up and repeatedly hitting that spot. His thumb was relentless on your clit, and you felt the rush go down your spine.

‘ Nnnghh.. I’m cumming I’m.. fuck..’ you choked out a moan, gushing all over his fingers. Your eyes rolled back, hole clenching around the digits. ‘ Fuck yeah.. that’s a good girl.. makin’ a mess on me like that..’ his fingers continued their abuse on your hole, prolonging your orgasm until you went limp.

‘ You did so good for me sugar..’ he extracted his fingers from your weeping hole, watching the clear substance drip down onto the towel. Licking his fingers clean, he hummed. ‘ Tastes even better..’ leaning down and kissing your spine.

He leaned over to see that you fell clean asleep, relaxed and content as can be. It’s refreshing to see that soft expression, instead of the hard one you came home with everyday.

Cleaning you up and tucking you in, he pressed a kiss to your temple. ‘ Sweet dreams baby..’ He chuckled while pulling away,, ‘ You’re so damn spoiled.’

Taglist: @speaknow-sw @ysrjune @moonlightkb @hearts4sammonroe @amiratheangel @madsluvsdilfs @alealuvshayden @loliskywalker @haydenchristensenisbae

I hope you liked this ! It was originally gonna be a Drabble but I accidentally made it long haha.. and it seems rushed and I don’t know why but it wasn’t intentional, so I’m sorry about that. But let me know if you’d like to be added to my taglist ! Love you and thanks for reading <3

[swiiivet-screamathon]

Soon after the ship had departed Pv takes the chance to go to the stem of the ship, leaning his arms across the rails, the land they'd been in for a while now slowly shrinking in the distance.

He knew in his heart that he wanted to stay for a little longer, help his friends with the other beasts if possible, but he also knew more than most the consequences of carrying more than their little doughy arms could carry, and that ordeals like these can't always be done in one trip, especially given how big the situation had become.

Though given the thoughts that grazed his mind it didn't seem like he was all that bothered, he seemed quite relieved even.

"Excuse me?"

"Hm? Oh, hello there Strawberry. What brings you back here?"

"A question or two. You said that you think the other heroes are probably dealing with their own beasts too, and I know you said White Lily will be okay, but will the rest?"

"I don't know, but I do know that I'm confident in their abilities. If they're at all like Shadow Milk Cookie then I'm sure my friends will have everything within them to succeed."

"I hope they're nothing like Shadow Milk Cookie, he was so awful the entire time. It was so worrying seeing you become the Truthless Recluse, it really felt like we'd lose a friend. And I don't want any of them to experience that feeling."

"I had to, to fool him, but I still apologize for doing it at all. Believe me, if I knew of another way I would've, but beyond the light you all gave me my judgement was so clouded, it felt like the only thing that would work. Same goes for him too honestly, if things could've gone differently, where I felt no need to trick him just to let us see eye to eye, I think he would've appreciated that a lot more."

"You're worried about how he's feeling? After all of that?"

"Of course I do, I meant every word, and I'll repeat it as many times as I need to. I did not lie to him when I told him I want to be his friend, and I would've liked to have not lied to a friend."

"I'm not really sure if I'm capable of relating that perspective, but I do understand it. I hope to never see that cookie again, but if you do, I hope things can go better the third time."

"I do too, I don't want to make any enemies if they don't force me to."

"I've got a little bit of a silly concern though."

"I'm sure it's not silly."

"When we were trying to find you, we came across some of Shadow Milk's other minions, and they seemed so... skilled? They weaved many things, and their paintings were pretty. I worry they might've not made it after the spire crashed down."

"To be as honest as I can be I'm not sure if I would believe those are real beings, just more illusions and puppets to alleviate the workload. Though if they are real then I think that's a perfectly valid concern, given the circumstances however I'd be surprised if there were no contingencies in place. Given your phrasing though, do you not think Shadow Milk is skilled?"

"Skilled at being a liar isn't a great skill to have, I don't think so at least."

"Well, I don't think such a skill would be unworkable. A great stage presence, good communicator, decent script work, lacking stage fright. I could probably name many friends with such attributes, and I don't think I'd consider their skills worthless."

"Heh... how silly of me... of course you're right."

"I may be one of the Ancient Heroes but that doesn't suddenly mean I'm the arbiter of all knowledge, that wasn't me chuckle. I'm very much capable of being wrong."

"Yeah, but you never are."

"I've been wrong many times before, but as long as we learn and improve from them they are not unforgivable."

"It doesn't feel like that's the case sometimes."

"Perhaps one must practice forgiving oneself sometime too."

"Maybe..."

As subtly as he can manage Pv takes a glance downwards down to the water, where he spots the glimpse of another shade of blue, with a slight smile creeping across his face.

[pankowcrumbs]

Caught in the Act X Will Poulter

MasterList

Will Poulter Masterlist

I should’ve known the second I walked into that party that things were going to get out of hand.

It was one of those industry events glamorous, packed, a little too loud, and dripping with free-flowing cocktails. The kind of night that starts with promises of “just one drink” and ends in stories you can’t tell your nan.

I wasn’t expecting to see Will Poulter there, let alone talk to him. We’d crossed paths once, briefly, at a film screening, but it was nothing more than a polite hello. Tonight, though… he was glowing.

Well, alright, that might’ve been the champagne talking.

He was standing near the bar, wearing this perfectly rumpled black shirt that did very little to hide the way it clung to his arms, sipping from a lowball glass like he had no idea people were watching him. I wasn’t staring. Not exactly. Just… observing. Admiring, maybe.

He caught me.

Of course he did.

His lips curved into a grin that was equal parts mischievous and boyish charm, and before I could pretend to be interested in literally anything else, he was walking over to me.

“Y/N, right?” he asked, already half-smiling.

I blinked, trying not to look as flustered as I felt. “Yeah. We met at that screening. You remembered.”

“Course I did. Hard to forget someone who quoted Hot Fuzz during a Q&A.”

I laughed, cheeks warm. “Guilty.”

We fell into an easy rhythm after that. The kind that’s rare at parties like this, where most people are just trying to network or one-up each other. We weren’t talking careers or projects. We were debating who would survive longest in a zombie apocalypse and whether pineapple belongs on pizza.

At some point, we were both holding another drink, giggling a little too much, and standing a little too close. His arm brushed mine. My hand lingered on his chest when I laughed too hard. It was harmless. Mostly.

But the air felt heavy, charged.

“I need air,” I said suddenly, already slightly dizzy from the crowd, the music, and maybe him.

He nodded. “Come on. Let’s get out of the fish tank.”

We pushed through the crowd, slipped out the side door, and stepped into the cool London night. The air hit my cheeks like a splash of cold water, but it didn’t sober me up much.

Will was looking at me, eyes still sparkling. “Better?”

I nodded, though my pulse was doing very weird things. “Much.”

He stepped closer. “You’re not cold?”

“Not really,” I lied, arms folded mostly to keep myself from reaching for him.

“Good,” he murmured. “Because I didn’t really come out here for air.”

Before I could ask what he meant, his hands were on my waist, and his mouth was on mine.

Soft at first.

Testing.

Then hungry.

God, he was a good kisser. Like he’d been thinking about this too.

I gripped his shirt, tugged him closer, and somewhere between the laughter and the wine and the thrill of being pressed up against the brick wall of a Mayfair townhouse, it got a bit… touchy.

Hands roaming. Breath hitching. His fingers tangled in my hair, my nails grazing the back of his neck. It wasn’t obscene, but it definitely wasn’t the kind of snog you want on the cover of a tabloid.

Which is precisely what we got.

Because just as I pulled away, laughing into his mouth and saying something about how this was very public, I saw it.

The unmistakable flash of a camera. Bright. Obvious. Horrifying.

“Shit,” I muttered, eyes darting to the end of the alley where some smug little paparazzi was tucking his camera back into his jacket, already turning to leg it down the street.

Will turned to look, then groaned. “Oh, bloody hell.”

We stared at each other, wide-eyed, panting slightly, hair mussed, and lips definitely looking a bit…used.

“We are so screwed,” I said.

He just grinned. “Worth it.”

The next morning, I woke up tangled in a pair of very long limbs and very soft sheets.

Will’s arm was draped over my waist, his face half-buried in the pillow, one of his legs hooked around mine like he’d claimed me in his sleep.

We were still in his flat. I vaguely remembered stumbling into a cab, kissing him all the way there, and half-undressing as we fumbled our way through the door.

Now? Now I was dying.

Not from regret.

From embarrassment.

Because my phone wouldn’t. stop. buzzing.

Dozens of texts. Notifications. Mentions. And three voicemails from my PR agent.

I groaned, covering my face with a pillow.

“Morning,” Will mumbled against my shoulder. “You okay?”

I peeked over at him. His hair was a mess. His voice raspy. His expression far too amused.

“Have you checked your phone?” I asked.

He reached over lazily, grabbed it from the nightstand, and blinked at the screen.

Then he groaned.

Then he laughed.

“Bloody hell.”

“Oh, you think this is funny?”

He held up his phone. “Daily Mail. ‘Caught in the Act: Will Poulter and Rising Star Y/N Y/L/N Get Hot and Heavy Outside Soho Bash.’”

I yanked the duvet over my face and groaned again. “Nooooo.”

He was still chuckling. “There’s a whole gallery. One of you grabbing my shirt, one of me… yeah, alright, my hand was definitely on your arse. That one’s gonna haunt me.”

“Oh, my God.”

“Wait, wait,” he said, still grinning. “Your hand’s under my shirt in this one. I think we were setting a new record for inappropriate PDA.”

I peeked out at him, caught somewhere between mortified and hysterical.

“My PR agent is going to murder me.”

“Mine already left me a voicemail,” he said, pressing play. We both listened in silence as a very frazzled voice exploded from his speaker: “Will, what the hell were you thinking?! Call me back now. We need a statement out before noon. Jesus, I can’t babysit you through another ‘fling-gate’!”

I couldn’t help it I burst out laughing.

He followed suit, eyes crinkling. “At least yours didn’t say fling-gate.”

I played my own voicemail.

“Y/N, darling, love you, but WHAT were you thinking?! You’re grabbing his face like it’s the last chocolate biscuit on Earth. We have interviews this week! I need answers. Call me.”

We both laughed so hard I nearly fell off the bed.

“I mean,” I wheezed, “as far as first kisses go…”

He raised a brow. “Unforgettable?”

“Mortifying.”

“Exciting.”

“Traumatic.”

He laughed, reaching for me and pulling me closer until I was curled against him again.

“Do you regret it?” he asked, voice softer now.

I looked up at him. The way his messy hair stuck up, his sleep-heavy eyes still shining, the hint of mischief still on his lips.

“No,” I admitted. “I don’t.”

He smiled. “Good.”

We lay there in comfortable silence for a moment, phones still pinging somewhere in the sheets, the world continuing to implode without our help.

“You know,” he said, resting his chin on my head, “we probably have to go do some damage control. Get ahead of it.”

“Probably.”

He looked down at me. “Or… we could lean in. Make it a thing. Tell the truth.”

I smirked. “That we were slightly tipsy and very into each other?”

“Exactly. PR nightmare. But excellent story.”

“And what would we even call it?” I teased. “Hashtag PoulterY/N?”

He grimaced. “That’s terrible. We’ll let the internet decide.”

We stayed in bed for another hour, watching the internet do exactly that.

We read tweets, laughed at memes, groaned at headlines. One had circled my red lipstick smudged across his jaw like it was some kind of forensic clue. Another had dubbed us Britain’s steamiest new couple.

And somewhere between the chaos and the caffeine he ordered in, we both realised something:

We didn’t want to undo it.

Not the kiss.

Not the bed.

Not this.

Because maybe it wasn’t just the drinks. Or the music. Or the party haze.

Maybe it was something else entirely.

A spark that finally had a reason to burn.

He looked over at me, holding up his phone as a new article popped up: “Y/N and Will’s Wild Night Just a Fling or Something More?”

I smiled. “Well, at least they’re asking the right question now.”

He leaned over and kissed me again, slow and warm. “And what’s your answer?”

I shrugged. “Guess we’ll find out.”

He grinned. “Can’t wait.”

And just like that, what started as a blurry, bold, ridiculous night outside a party turned into the best story I’d never forget.

Our first kiss?

Absolute chaos.

But unforgettable?

Completely.

[gremlin-girly]

Angelfish

Part of the Sun, Sea and Sirens Collection

Header by me in Canva, images sourced from Pinterest (credit to OG creators/posters) | Dividers by @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more

Lloyd Hansen x f!siren!reader

Not beta'd. I do not give permission for my work to be reposted, copied, translated or put through an AI machine. All of my work is 18+ so read at your own risk.

Tags/Warnings: death, blood mentions, hint of smut (nipple play, chasing, mention of having kids), sweet and fluffy too, Lloyd being Lloyd, talk of mates too!

Summary: Lloyd loves to show off his possessions; especially when when they're as beautiful as you.

Word Count: ~2.2k

A/N: I've been sitting on this one for a while, I hope you enjoy! This was supposed to be longer but I liked it short and sweet for these two 🐠

Lloyd Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Lloyd Hansen never, ever invites his henchmen to his home unless he's going to assign them to a strictly confidential job, promote them or kill them. So when Darren was invited, he was convinced he'd be one of the former two options.

Lloyd made sure to give him the grand tour, why bother with that if he was going to kill him? Lloyd's home was in the middle of nowhere, hidden away with a state of the art security system that money could buy. The house itself was modern and stupidly large; a display of wealth that Darren and many other of Lloyd's employees envied. Although, it wasn't as if Lloyd never got his hands dirty alongside his men, which was why he commanded such respect.

"Would you like to see the aquarium?" Lloyd asks, pouring whiskey into the two tumblers, handing one out to Darren. They'd ended the tour in the kitchen, either side of the island, with Darren rocking on his heels awkwardly. Lloyd still hadn't explained what he wanted.

"You have an aquarium?" Darren's eyes widen. He doesn't know why he's surprised, Lloyd lives in such a big, lavish house that of course the rich bastard would have an aquarium.

"'Course." Lloyd says smugly. "I like fish."

The aquarium wasn't just a tank.

It was a whole floor.

Walking through one heavy oak door in the basement led to a small oval room no larger than ten feet wide with reinforced glass panels from floor to cieling covering a good ninety percent of what would have been a normal room.

There was a small loveseat, brown leather, and a fur rug beneath it with an end table off to the side in the centre of the room but no lights. The light came from the tank. Huge, tree-like stems of seaweed disappeared upwards towards bright, white lights. Some fish swam by, some big some small, but Darren shivered. It felt like he was being watched.

Lloyd gestured to the seat behind him as he stepped towards the glass and rapped on it loudly. Some of the fish disappeared, some paid it no mind.

Darren took a seat, unable to shake the unease. He didn't even want to distract himself with what Lloyd did down here. He surely didn't just... watch the fish in the dark? He knew the guy was a freak but that was taking it too far.

"How much did it cost you?" Darren says, taking in the room again. It had to go further back.

"A pretty penny." Lloyd whistles, peering through the glass like he's looking for something. "Custom built and all that jazz. The filters, the fish, the food."

Lloyd turns back to Darren with another shark grin. "It spans the length of the house."

"And if it bursts?"

Lloyd scoffs and taps the glass again. "Re-en-forced." He punctuates. "But - I also made sure they put pipes throughout as a fail safe."

Darren hums in acknowledgement and Lloyd frowns into the glass, his sigh creating a little bit of condensation that he draws a smiley face in. "Wanna to see how I feed them?"

The walkways across the tops of the tank criss cross in a number of sections, illuminated only by the white lights underneath that made the dark water reflect silver. Lloyd strolled across it with practiced ease, banging a bucket full of what looked like blood and pieces of meat while Darren teetered and struggled to keep his balance.

"Here fishy fishy!" Lloyd calls out and Darren wonders if he might actually be insane.

"What- what's in the bucket?"

"Chum." Lloyd says cheerily but doesn't elaborate further.

Water ripples along the surface, a flash of white in the darkness. What the hell kind of fish does he have that are that big?

Swallowing nervously, Darren wipes his hands on his jeans and follows Lloyd until he stops. The stench of blood tickles at his nostrils and he grimaces, watching Lloyd carefully.

"Do you know I have to keep the temperature just right in this thing? Too cold they die, too hot they boil. Pain in my ass." Lloyd sighs and shakes his head, hands on his hips before looking at Darren. "You know why you're here, right?"

Darren stiffens. There's that smile again - you never know what Lloyd is thinking. It's off-putting. Dangerous.

The water ripples again, closer this time, and Darren shivers. Lloyd didn't specify what fish he had in this tank and given his nature: it probably wasn't something Darren wanted to see face to face.

Darren shakes his head slowly. "Uh. No, sir. I don't."

Lloyd clicks his tongue and hums thoughtfully. It's loud, bordering on obnoxious, but there's something about the way Darren can feel the vibration through the metal of the walkway that makes fear seep into his bones. He stops after a moment and sighs, fixing Darren with a sheepish look.

"She's a little shy today."

Darren blinks, today was getting crazier by the second. "Sir?"

Lloyd waves a hand before kicking over the chum bucket letting the thick congealed blood and offal pour into the water below. Below the surface, in the light of the walkway, fish begin to appear. There's a variety, some colourful - some not, but there's nothing as big that looks like the tail Darren saw earlier.

"Look. I know about the deal you worked with one of the agents in the CIA." Lloyd shrugs. "I get both sides; up and coming agent, a great opportunity for you to make a load of cash..."

Darren's blood freezes. He can't move. The only people that knew about the deal were him and the agent. And if that were true that meant the agent truly worked for Lloyd...

"That agent doesn’t work for me." Lloyd says, reading Darren's expression. "But he did work for a friend of mine. Problem is he was a terrible brag - that's like rule one of spy school by the way. You don't brag about your plans."

Did. It didn't take a genius to figure out the agent was already dead and gave up Darren in the hopes he would be allowed to live. That was laughable when he was dealing with Lloyd Hansen.

"You're going to kill me now, aren't you?"

"No shit, Sherlock." Lloyd snaps, shaking his head slightly. "I pay you well, I pay you to keep you loyal and you betray me? Why the hell would I let you go? So you could do it again?"

Darren winces and tries to force his feet to slide backwards across the walkway. "Gonna feed me to the fish like some mafioso?" He spits, anger finally over taking the fear. "God, you're fucking nuts Hansen."

Lloyd scratches head and then shrugs again, clearly unsurprised nor offended by the accusation. "I mean, they'll clean you down to the bone which saves me money and time. Work smarter not harder."

"You're not human." Darren says, shaking his head in disbelief.

"I never said I was." Lloyd grins.

Darren charges at Lloyd with a roar - a last ditch attempt to escape the hellish mansion, and his death by killing Lloyd first. Whilst Lloyd looks surprised by the outburst, he steps back and to the side so that where Darren should have collided with him, he is now perpendicular to him. All it takes is a hard shove to Darren's ribs to send him off the edge of the walkway and into the water, scattering the fish below.

Darren swims upwards in a blind panic and reappears gasping for air, staring up at Lloyd who is in the middle of stripping. Lloyd is mid-fold of his shirt when he spots Darren's soggy form and smiles.

"You really thought running at me would work?" Lloyd shakes his said like a disappointed parent. "Honestly, I expected mo-"

Darren disappears. There's no scream, no loud splashing. He just vanishes. Lloyd blinks at the calm of the water surface for a moment and then Darren reappears about six feet from where he disappeared, frantically splashing trying to get back to the walk way.

Lloyd watches as he takes off his shoes, hearing Darren's gargled call of his name before he vanishes again, for longer this time.

As Lloyd begins to undo the buckle of his belt, Darren's battered body is launched out of water, splashing centimeters from the walkway, soaking Lloyd. Lloyd rolls his eyes and continues to remove his clothes. Darren's body is facedown in the water; he wasn't dead ... yet.

"Honeybear, don't be like that." Lloyd faux-pouts with a small smile, crouching to dapple his fingers into the warm water. He waits for a moment and as he goes to retreat a hand jumps from the water grab his wrist and yank him forwards; sending Lloyd toppling head first into the tank.

When the bubbles clear from his fall, Lloyd's blue eyes flit around him until they settle on a figure swimming towards him.

"My love," Your voice, serene and angelic, travels through the water clear as day. "I wish you would stop bringing trash into our home. You know how much I hate it."

Lloyd pushes forward with a beaming grin, meeting you halfway. You looked radiant - you always did - wearing nothing but your wedding and engagement rings and a delicate teardrop pearl on a white gold twist chain around your neck. All gifts from him.

You're trying to look annoyed as he twists around you, making your tails intertwine but when his hands find your hips, the corners of your mouth twitch.

"Angelfish," Lloyd coos playfully at you, his moustache tickling the back of your neck as he places sweet kisses there. "Forgive me."

You beat the end of your tail to move upwards, twisting to glower teasingly at him. His and your hair dances freely around you like halos in the light; weightless and free.

"You're lucky I love you." You dip your head to press your lips against his and allow his hands to guide your hips back down so that your pearly iridescent tail flush with his black-and-white tiger striped one. You both smile into the kiss and your arms wrap around his neck and broad shoulders lazily. When you both part, you gaze up at your mate as he spins you gently in a circle, starting to hum a song hoping you'll join in this time.

You concede to his request and for a few minutes, you both float entwined together in song - as one - and happiness radiates between you both. That is until you look up and see Darren's now-dead body and huff a bubble of irritation up to the surface.

"But I mean it, Lloyd. Stop bringing them here."

"But you know I love watching you terrify them." Lloyd half whines, following your gaze upwards and admiring the huge purple welt across Darren's ribs. "Look - you even broke his ribs this time!"

You growl quietly, frown deepening despite Lloyd's nuzzling of your neck. You didn't like strangers in your home; baser instincts came into play and more often than you'd like a dead body was left somewhere in the tank.

"My Angel," Lloyd murmurs, his hands releasing your hips and trailing to your hands, bringing them to his lips. Your frown melts away despite your annoyance. Your husband had such a way of charming you even when you were annoyed. "Have I ever told you how gorgeous you are?"

"Yes," you tease, brushing your nose against his. "But tell me again. Tell me for the rest of the night."

"That can be arranged." Lloyd licks his lips slowly, eyes shamelessly roaming your figure. "You know that water bed finally showed up."

You snort and pull a face as Lloyd wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. "Oh Gods. Why would you order such a thing?"

"Because I thought, as merfolk, we should try it out." Lloyd winks at you, kissing at any bare skin he can find.

"Absolutely not!" You squeal and swim away from him quickly, disappearing around a strategically placed boulder.

"We're obligated by nature." Lloyd laughs and gives chase, inching around the boulder as you do the same, pulling yourself diagonally up the rock by your fingertips so you could pat Lloyd's ass and dart away further into the tank.

With a squawk of surprise, Lloyd makes a grab for you, missing you by centimetres.

"Playing hard to get, honey?" Lloyd teases, following you through a rocky archway. "Just like when we first met."

"Mm." You purposefully hum, looking back long enough to see Lloyd shiver at the sound and head towards the dark patch of green underwater plants, hoping to lose him.

You swim through the thick, tall vegetation but as you reach forward and you knot your hand to pull, the plant twists and you cant get free. You panic slightly as you tug and you wrist remains locked in place, excitement rushing through your veins knowing Lloyd would be on you any second.

"This is also like when we first met." Lloyd murmurs from behind you, ghosting his fingers over the exposed flesh of your stomach to make you squirm.

"Lloyd..." You pout at him.

"You know, you're just as beautiful as the day we first met." He purrs into your ear, catching your other wrist as you make a half-attempt to swat at him.

"And you're just as handsome." You chuckle as his other strong arm wraps around your waist and holds you close. His body is warm against yours and you relax into him.

"I think I'd like to see how our beautiful genes would look like combined." He noses your cheek gently, watching your eyes grow wide with surprised excitement.

"Are you serious?"

"Deadly." He grins, tweaking your nipples playfully to make you whine. "Whaddya think?"

"I think," you begin, giving your husband - your mate - a breathless smile. "We should find out just how buoyant this water bed is."

Angelfish END

A/N: Hiiii! How we feeling? Just thought I'd come down here and say thank you for reading and impartl some fun facts about Angelfish that helped me build these two love birds (fish?) - because I'm a nerd like that. Definitely think I may have to do some drabbles of them in the future.

1. Angelfish are tropical and freshwater fish with variety of colours. Lloyd's tail is similar to the freshwater variant found in the Amazon (like Tiger stripes, their colouring helps to camouflage them!)

2. Angelfish mate for life and they raise their young together 🥺

3. Angelfish are super territorial ;)

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