#and I used that thing for like three years)

[bomberqueen17]

How To Shop For Fabric Online

RIP Joann's. Now many places in the US no longer have a local fabric store, such as it even was toward the end.

There are some good posts going around about where to shop for fabric and craft supplies online, like this one for example. But if you're a beginner-to-intermediate sewist, and the way you've always shopped for fabric is by going to the store and touching it, it can be a hard, even cruel adjustment to suddenly be looking at a photo online and trying to piece together from the inconsistent descriptions what you're actually looking at.

So I'm going to just try to bang together a little primer on What Things Are Called, and how to educate yourself, so that you don't have to do what I did and just buy a ton of inappropriate stuff you wound up not being able to use for what you'd thought. And I will link to some resources that will help with this. This will be garment-sewing-centric but will, I think, be fairly broadly applicable.

The first thing is to look carefully at your desired project. If it is a commercial pattern, it will usually tell you what kind of fabric you need, but it will describe it in not the same words it's often sold under. If it is NOT a commercial pattern and you're kind of winging it, it's even harder. So here is how to start figuring out what you need.

Number one: Knit or Woven?

Quilting fabric is woven. If you are making a quilt, you want a woven. Most craft projects are made with woven fabric-- tote bags, upholstery, you name it.

Many garments are knits. T-shirts, yoga pants, cardigans. It is easy to know, because knits stretch. They can either stretch both ways (along the length and along the width) or just one way (usually along the width); this is confusingly either called 2-way stretch or 4-way stretch. Yes, stores are inconsistent. Look carefully at the description, and they will usually specify-- "along the grain" or "in all directions". Some garments require stretch only around the body-- maxi skirts, knit dresses etc-- while some absolutely need stretch both ways, like bathing suits.

No, you absolutely cannot clone your favorite knit t-shirt in quilting cotton. It will not fit. Most knit garments have "negative ease", meaning they are smaller than your body and stretch to fit. All woven garments have "positive ease", meaning they are larger than your body, unless very firm shaping undergarments are used.

SMALL EXCEPTION: There exist "stretch wovens", which are woven fabrics made with elastic fibers. These will be labeled as such. They are actually harder to sew with than regular wovens because they almost never have their stretch percentage labeled; they are NOT suitable for knit patterns. Avoid them, until you are more advanced and know how to accomodate them, is my advice!

Number two: WEIGHT.

How heavy is the fabric? How thick? How thin? This is measured in two main ways-- ounces per yard (denim is often 8oz, 10 oz, 12 oz) or grams per square meter. But many fabric retailers do not tell you a weight, they use words like "bottomweight" or "dress-weight", and you have to learn to figure out what they mean by that.

My lifehack for learning these has been go to go to ready-to-wear clothing retailers and see if they give the weights of the fabric their garments are made from. (Yes, I learned how to shop for clothes online instead of in-store years ago, because I am fat; some of us have had to do this a long time.)

If you are making a pair of trousers, you need heavier fabric than if you are making a blouse. Do not buy a floaty translucent chiffon to make your work trousers, it will not work no matter how cute the color is. Learn how the different weights of fabric are described, and you will improve your odds of finding what you need.

Number three: DRAPE.

Is it stiff? Is it fluid? Is it soft? is it firm? There are a lot of very artsy words used for this, and you may find yourself puzzling over things with a fluid hand, or a dry, crisp hand, or "a lot of drape", or maybe the listing doesn't describe it at all. This segues neatly into another technical thing, which is the WEAVE of the fabric. There is a dizzying array of words that tell you what kind of fabric it is-- twill, tabby, challis, chiffon, crepe, organza, georgette. And these will give you insight into the drape, and thus into the texture/usability of this fabric, and how suitable it may or may not be for your project.

I know it's a lot to think about but I am now going to give you resources for where to see all this stuff.

Number one is Mood Fabrics, which I can't believe hasn't been in any of the posts I've seen so far. They are a huge store in NYC's Fashion District and yes you can go there, but when I went there it overwhelmed me so much I left empty-handed. But what they have is AN INCREDIBLE WEBSITE. They have everything on there, and what's most important for you, their listings are INCREDIBLY consistent. They have VIDEOS of many of the fabrics, where a sales associate will hold it, wave it, stretch it, and tell you verbally what it is and what it's for, in about thirty seconds. HUNDREDS of these videos.

Whether you want to buy from them or not, go to Mood Fabrics, click around, find their listings, and read them. They will tell you fabric content, weight (usually gsm), often weave, they have little graphics that show you if it's for pants, dresses, shirts. And they have those videos. Look at the listings, watch the videos, and you will leave knowing a lot more about how to look at an online listing of fabric and know what you're getting.

Another really excellent website for this is Stonemountain & Daughter. I've actually not bought anything from them yet (they came highly recommended, but they're not cheap), but their online listings are, again, very thorough and very detailed. They always have a picture of the fabric with a fold in it held in place by a pin, which does more to help you understand the weight and drape of a fabric than any other static image ever could-- that visual, combined with how informative the listings are, has helped me learn to estimate fabric weights on other sites very effectively.

And here is a page that's ostensibly about how to wash silk, but I found it so useful because it gives such a clear image of what each weave/type of silk fabric looks and drapes like. I've never bought anything from these guys either, but this is a good resource.

Learn a little bit about fabric so you know what you're looking for, and you can begin to replace some of that "i just have to go and feel it in person" problem. There will still be trial and error, but you'll have a better starting place at least.

[vunblr]

Plump & Ripe

Pairing: Chubby!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ only. Smut. Unprotected Sex. Some fluff. Slight Angst. A Pinch of Body Insecurity. Size kink. Use of pet names.

Summary: On a routine visit to the fruit shop, Bucky ends up with more than his usual goodies.

Word Count: 7.4k.

note: This is one of the works I'm submitting for the @avengers-assemble-bingo event for Bucky's 108th birthday, running throughout March. The prompt was "Plums". It was supposed to be a cute and fluffy fic, but it turned into pure filth instead. I'm sorry -not-

She looked up from the counter, and a welcoming smile instantly spread across her lips when she saw who had made the doorbell chime.

“You’re late. You’re lucky I set this bag aside when the distributor came this morning because they’re all sold out now.” She lifted a small paper bag from the shelf behind her, placing it on the counter between them. The deep violet of the plums peeked through the crinkled opening, and their smooth skins caught the golden light that filtered through the shop’s front windows.

Bucky stood just inside the doorway, a little tense as his fingers fidgeted with the zipper of his jacket. “Sorry. Something came up and... couldn’t make it earlier.” He mumbled.

That ‘something’ had been him forcing himself out of bed after three days of avoiding the world. Everything felt heavier these days, his body, his thoughts, even some goddamn things that weren’t so before. But he was here now, and that was better than nothing.

She leaned her elbows on the counter. “No worries. I know you’d never miss plum day on purpose.” She tried to tease warmly.

Right. One of the rare occasions he’d missed plum day was when he went on that stupid mission, the so-called ‘walk in the park’ that turned into a bloodbath of agents and ended with him being taken again by the same people who’d tormented him for nearly 80 years. Only this time, they didn’t just want their precious pet back, they wanted it better.

In five days of captivity, they not only just strapped him to a modernized version of that damned chair. Oh no, they’d injected him with a cocktail of drugs that messed up his body in ways he was still discovering, even a year later. Like his fucked-up metabolism.

His eyes flicked to the bag, and his mouth twitched just slightly. “You know me too well on that aspect,” he muttered, reaching out to grab the bag.

She watched him carefully. “Do you need anything else?”

He hesitated, shifting his gaze to the baskets of apples lined up near the wall. “Yeah… green apples.”

She nodded, moving around the counter to grab a paper bag. As she started picking the crisp, bright green apples, she spoke over her shoulder. “I got a new kind in this week. They’re a mix of green and red, still sour but with a sweet twist. Figured you might like them, so I’m throwing one in for you to try.” She dropped a smaller, two-toned apple into the bag, the colors blending in a swirl of muted red and pale green. “No charge.”

His lips quirked, just for a moment, the closest thing to a smile she’d seen from him in weeks. “Thanks.” He said gruffly.

She twisted the top of the bag, folding it neatly before placing it on the counter beside the plums. But she didn’t step back, and her fingers lingered on the edge as if debating something. Her teeth caught her bottom lip, worrying the skin.

Always perceptive, Bucky narrowed his eyes. “What is it?”

Her head jerked up, eyes widening. “Huh?”

“You look like you’re trying to decide whether to say something or not.” He crossed his arms, leaning his weight on one leg. “Tell me.”

She huffed a laugh, embarrassed. “It’s... not very appropriate.”

One eyebrow shot up. “I’ve heard worse.”

She bit her lip again before glancing toward the back room. “I was just wondering if you could help me with a couple of crates. The distributor was in a hurry, and he just tossed the merchandise back there. It’s kind of a mess... hard to move around.” She gave a half-shrug, sheepish. I’d do it myself, but they’re actually pretty heavy.”

He followed her gaze, and his expression softened. “That all?”

“Well... yeah,” she admitted, heat creeping up her neck. “You already helped with the shelves last week... and the cooler the week before. I just... I don’t want you to feel like I’m taking advantage or something.”

His features softened even more, as he huffed, twitching his lips in a half-smile. “I wouldn’t help if I didn’t want to. Show the way.”

She gestured to the door behind the counter -the only door, really- and he shot her a look. She shrugged, grinning. “I know, I know. Real hard to find.”

He followed her through the doorway, ducking his head slightly as they entered the cramped back room. His steps faltered as his eyes took in the scene. Stacks of boxes and wooden crates were scattered haphazardly across the floor, some leaning precariously against each other. It was like the distributor had been in a damn race to get out of there.

His mouth pulled into a deep scowl. How the hell did that asshole expect her to move this on her own? Where were the manners nowadays? He grumbled under his breath, weaving between the clutter as he started rearranging the crates into a more orderly stack. He made sure to place the heavier boxes at the bottom, the lighter ones on top, within easy reach for her.

She leaned against the doorframe, watching as the chaos turned into something more manageable. “God, I’ll kidnap you and put you on my bedside table.”

His head snapped up, brows drawing together. “Uh?”

She blinked, a faint heat creeping up her neck. “Oh, it’s just... a saying we have. You know, to cherish something.” She waved a hand, brushing off her embarrassment. “Forget it. Thank you, really for always helping.”

He chuckled. “Pretty sure your poor bedside table can’t handle me anyway.” His tone was dry, self-deprecating, like he was almost daring her to argue.

But her brain had short-circuited somewhere around ‘bedside,’ and before she could think better of it, the words just tumbled out: “But my bed sure can.”

He froze, fingers clenching around the edge of a crate. For a second, he didn’t even breathe. “What?”

She cursed inwardly. Did she… did she actually say that aloud? Oh my god. She could feel her soul leaving her body, and her eyes darted down as her brain scrambled for something -anything- that could sound similar. She fumbled, words tripping over themselves. “I- I said... I wondered if... if you can open a can.”

Bucky blinked, his expression shifting from shock to confusion. “A can?”

She nodded furiously, feeling her face burn. “Yeah. A big one. I have... with peaches. And I don’t have an opener, so I thought maybe...” Her eyes flicked to his metal hand, then back to his face.

They stared at each other, the silence was thick and heavy. “You want me to open... a can of peaches.”

Her chin lifted defiantly, even as her face burned. “Yes. A big one.”

He looked at her, then tilted his head, and his lips twitched slightly. “That so?”

“Yup. I figured you’re more than capable and I... really wanted to try them.” Her voice was firmer now, though her face was still in flames.

Bucky watched her for another moment, narrowing his eyes like he was trying to figure her out. Finally, he huffed, low and almost amused. “Alright then. Bring it over.”

She nodded quickly, grateful for the excuse to turn away from his piercing gaze. Her heart was still hammering against her ribs, and her hands trembled as she rummaged through a cluttered shelf. Eventually, she found the can half-buried behind a jar of jam, with its bright label slightly faded. Two forks were grabbed from a drawer without much thought, and her fingers clenched around them as she tried to calm herself. When she turned back, Bucky was stacking the last of the boxes, his back to her.

Her eyes lingered on his body for a beat too long, and her mind flashed back to her stupid, impulsive words. But my bed sure can. She almost groaned out loud, the embarrassment creeping over her anew. She was never going to live this down.

Clearing her throat, she approached him, holding out the can. “Here. I... uh... figured we could share. Since you’re helping me out and all.”

He turned, and his gaze dropped to the can before lifting to meet hers. His expression was neutral, but his eyes held a glint of something she couldn’t quite place. “Peaches, huh?”

She swallowed, nodding. “Yeah. They should be good. Sweet. Soft, too... uh, juicy” The words tumbled out before she could stop them, and her face burned all over again. God, why did she have to say it like that?

Bucky just stared at her for a second, flicking his eyes to her lips before his mouth twitched. “Alright.” His voice was a little rougher, a little lower. He took the can from her, popping a metal finger through the lid and curling it, crumpling the metal until it popped off.

He handed it back, licking his finger for a brief moment and she could swear she could have a stroke. “There you go. Good thing at least I’m good as a can opener.”

She furrowed her brow, and the playful glint in her eyes faded. “Don’t do that.”

His shoulders went rigid. What did he do to upset her? “Do what?”

“That,” she said, “Sell yourself short. That... self-deprecation thing you always pull.”

His jaw clenched, and his eyes drifted away from hers. “Just saying the truth.” Almost unconsciously, his gaze dropped to his midsection, to the slight curve that hadn’t been there before. To the proof that his body was failing him, that even with all the enhancements, he was broken.

“Bucky,” she said, with a softer tone but no less resolute. “You’re a damn Avenger. Half the days you come in here, you’re bruised and battered because you fight for people who can’t fight for themselves. You protect them. That’s incredible.” Her hand gestured to the neatly stacked crates behind him. “You’re kind... and good. Don’t diminish yourself.”

His eyes snapped back to hers, a flicker of surprise breaking through his usual calm but hard expression. He wanted to deflect, to brush it off with a sarcastic remark. It was easier to joke than to acknowledge the weight of her words. But the way she looked at him, made the words stick in his throat. His fingers tightened around the can, and the metal creaked under his grip. “Yeah, well... sometimes it doesn’t feel that way.”

She stepped closer, her eyes never leaving his. “Our own perceptions sometimes lie. Doesn’t make it less true.”

He stared at her, and his defenses faltered. The familiar cynicism was there, clawing at him, but her words were louder. His mouth twitched, the ghost of a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You always this stubborn?”

She crossed her arms, lifting her chin defiantly. “Only when someone I care about is being stupid.”

The air grew still. She seemed to realize what she’d said a second too late, eyes widening before she looked away. “I mean... you know... as a customer. And a... friend.”

He cocked an eyebrow, tilting his head just slightly as if he was trying to get a better read on her. “A friend to put on your nightstand.”

Her eyes snapped to his, caught off guard by the teasing lilt in his voice. “Sure.”

He leaned against the stacked crates, crossing his arms over his chest. His jaw worked, like he was chewing over his next words. For a heartbeat, he thought about letting it slide, about keeping his mouth shut and pretending he hadn’t heard. But the thought of not knowing twisted his gut in a way that made him reckless. “Did you mean it?”

Her heart skipped, the peach suddenly feeling too heavy on her tongue. She forced herself to chew slowly, buying time. “What?”

“The... bed.” His gaze pierced in that way that made her feel stripped bare. “Did you mean it?”

Oh. So he had heard her.

Her mind raced, instincts screaming at her to laugh it off, to deflect with a joke or change the subject. But he just stood there, watching her, waiting. It was infuriating how still he could be, how his silence demanded more than words ever could. His eyes didn’t waver, his face was impassive, but there was something tight in his stance, something almost vulnerable in the way his fingers tapped once against his arm before he caught himself, stilling the movement.

She paused mid-chew, the peach now a lump in her throat. The hell with all. “What if I did?”

His expression didn’t change, but his posture did: his shoulders straightened, and his arms uncrossed just slightly. He took a step closer, and the room suddenly felt a lot smaller. “Then I’d say... you’d better be sure.”

She swallowed, heat blooming up her neck. “I don’t say things I don’t mean.”

His lips twitched, the ghost of a smile as he closed the space between them. “I figured.”

His hand came up slowly, hesitantly, like he was giving her every chance to pull away. But she didn’t move as his fingers brushed her cheek, rough callouses skimming her skin. His touch was gentle, almost reverent, and she couldn’t help but lean into it, never breaking the eye contact.

His thumb traced her cheekbone, and his gaze softened as his fingers curled on the back of her neck. Her pulse quickened, and she could feel her heartbeats echoing in her ears, but she didn’t dare look away. Not when his eyes were so impossibly blue, locked on hers with a focus that stole her breath.

She parted her lips, in a silent invitation, while her hand found its way to his chest, curling her fingers into the fabric of his jacket.

For a moment, he just looked at her, his face so close she could feel his breath on her lips. His gaze dropped to her mouth, and his eyes darkened, “Tell me to stop if this is not what you want.” he murmured, but his hand didn’t move.

She shook her head, tightening her fingers on his jacket. “Not a chance.”

A muscle in his jaw twitched, and his lips crashed into hers, firm and demanding, as he fisted her hair and pulled her closer.

She responded instinctively, pressing her body into his as her hands slid up his chest, wrapping around his neck. He groaned against her mouth, circling his vibranium arm on her waist.

The world around her faded, the cluttered storeroom, the lingering scent of the peaches, everything disappeared until there was only him. His warmth, his strength, his mouth moving against hers with a hunger that made her knees weak.

She sighed, threading her fingers through his hair, and he responded by deepening the kiss. When they finally broke apart, both breathless, she ran a hand along his slightly rounded cheek, tracing its curve with her thumb with a tenderness that made something clench on his chest.

“You are so damn handsome.”

His gaze widened slightly, surprise flickering across his features before something else settled in. Cocky 40s Sergeant Barnes wouldn’t have agreed. In fact, he wouldn’t have dreamed of seeing himself like this, heavier, slower, tired.

He swallowed, as the weight of her words pressed against years of ingrained self-doubt. She exhaled, shaking her head with a small, knowing smile. “I can see the gears turning inside your head, you know?” Her fingers lingered against his skin, warm and sure. “And, in a courageous and embarrassing -but it seems necessary-confession, I must say that I like this version of you. A lot.”

His body tensed beneath her touch. Of all the things he expected, this wasn’t one of them. People -some- admired him for what he could do. No one ever said they liked him like this.

He searched her face, looking for doubt, for anything that suggested she was just saying it to make him feel better. His throat felt tight. “You don’t have to say that.”

Her brows furrowed, and her fingers pressed just slightly into his skin. “I told you earlier that I mean what I say. You’re a soft wall of muscle.” She bit her lip, as her eyes drifted over his shoulders, his chest, lingering just long enough to make his pulse quicken. “And I like big men, so...”

He opened his mouth, then closed it, utterly at a loss. That... wasn’t what he expected. Not at all.

She felt the heat on her face but didn’t look away, just kept caressing his cheek. “In my eyes, you’re better than when I first knew you.”

His heart skipped, the words settling heavy and warm somewhere behind his ribs. “Better?” His voice was low, rough, like he was forcing the word out. “How?”

Her thumb traced his cheekbone, and she felt all the heat in her body rush to her face again. She looked away, sensing her bravado faltering. “God, you’re going to make me say it. This is so embarrassing.” She took a breath, meeting his gaze again. “Sexier, Bucky. You look better to me because I find your bigger body more than appealing. Manlier. Is that enough clarification for y-”

She didn’t get to finish. His mouth crashed again against hers, more heated and demanding than before, as his fingers tightened at her waist, pulling her flush against his body.

A low growl vibrated in his chest, his lips moving hungrily over hers, and she barely had time to gasp before his tongue slid past her lips, tasting, claiming. Her back hit the wall as his body crowded hers, and she didn’t care, didn’t want space, didn’t want air, didn’t want anything that wasn’t him.

His heart pounded in his chest, blood roaring in his ears. Her words echoed in his mind, looping over and over again. Sexier. Manlier. More than appealing.

A rush of masculine pride coursed his body, fierce and hot, like lightning in his veins. She wanted him like this, wanted him bigger, broader. He hadn’t realized how badly he needed to hear that, how deeply her praise soothed the bruised ego he hadn’t even admitted having.

She felt his growing erection pressing against her hip, and she gripped his shoulders, feeling him beneath. There was nothing soft about him, not in the way he kissed her, fierce and unrelenting, not in the way his body surrounded hers, hard and unyielding.

He tore his mouth from hers, with ragged breathing, eyes dark and wild as they bore into hers. “You like this?” His voice was rough, deeper than before, and his words dripped with hunger. “You like me like this?”

She swallowed, her pulse fluttering wildly. “Yes. God, yes.”

His lips curved into a grin, that old cocky sergeant slipping through the cracks of his armor. “Good,” he growled, as his mouth descended on hers again, sliding down his hand to grip her thigh with bruising force as he hitched her leg up around his waist, pressing himself against her. His mouth was at her ear, his voice a low, gravelly murmur that sent shivers down her spine. “Because I’d be lying if I told you I didn’t think about fucking you raw under this slutty green apron every damn time you hand me my plums.”

Her brain stuttered, eyes widening as she processed his words.

His hips rolled, grinding his hardon against her tummy, and she felt every inch of his cock, hard and wanting, and god, she couldn’t help it, she whined. A desperate, needy sound that escaped her throat before she could bite it back.

His eyes darkened, his pupils blown wide as his lips curled again into that smirk. “Always with a little extra product, always checking on me.” His teeth scraped her jaw, flicking out his tongue to taste her skin. “Thought you were just sweet, just nice. Turns out you were trying to fatten me up for yourself, huh?” His words were teasing, but his tone was rough and possessive.

He rocked his hips again, a slow, deliberate grind that had her gasping, her fingers digging into his shoulders as heat coiled tighter and tighter in her belly.

“Bucky-” Her voice was a breathless plea, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried to find words, tried to get a grip on herself, but his mouth was on her neck, sucking a hot, wet mark just above her collarbone, and she was gone, utterly, completely gone.

“You like that, huh?” His teeth grazed her skin again, his metal fingers tightening on her thigh, holding her in place as he ground against her. “Like knowing you drive me crazy? That every time I leave, all I can think about is coming back here, bending you over that counter, and fuck you right there, maybe squishing a fucking orange just to watch the juice dripping down your ass?”

Another whine slipped out, her body arching into his as her hips rolled instinctively to meet his. His words wrapped around her, filthy and raw, and she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but feel.

His lips trailed up to her ear, his breath hot and ragged. “So tell me, sweetheart... how long have you been thinking about me ruining you right here in your little shop?”

“If... if we’re about to speak on hard numbers...” She tried to tease, but the words came out ragged, crumbling under the hard suck he planted just behind her ear. Her body shuddered, another whimper escaping before she could stop it. “I’d say... the first time you came here. You’d just moved in and didn’t... didn’t even have pans to cook. Remember?”

His mouth paused on her skin, lips curved against her neck. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Came looking for fruit and you ended up selling me that tray of already cut vegetables to make soup. Lent me that steel jar to boil ’em in.” His tongue flicked over the mark he’d made, soothing the sting before he pulled back just enough to meet her gaze. “I thought you were too damn trusting. What if I didn’t come back?”

She let out a breathless laugh, curling her fingers on his biceps. “I saw your hand. You forgot the gloves that day... and I figured... the Winter Soldier wouldn’t steal a steel jar.” Her lips twitched, and a spark of mischief lit her eyes. “If you did, well, the loss was on me. But if you didn’t...” She trailed off.

His eyes darkened, and his grip tightened on her thigh as he pressed her harder against the wall. “If I didn’t?”

She swallowed, feeling her heart hammering against her ribs. “Then... I would have set some points with a handsome man.”

“Sneaky,” he muttered, brushing her lips, a teasing, fleeting touch. “You were setting a trap for me from the start.”

Her fingers slipped into his hair, tugging just enough to earn her another low, hungry sound from him. “Can you blame me?” she whispered, her lips barely an inch from his. “You were brooding and grumpy... and so damn gorgeous.”

His eyes flashed with something wild and primal sparking in them. “And now?” His voice was low and dangerous, his metal fingers flexing on her thigh, holding her in place. “Now that you’ve got me? This bigger, grumpier version?”

She didn’t hesitate, running her hands over his broad shoulders. “Now?” She leaned in, grazing his bottom lip with her teeth before she pulled back. “I’d say It was a pretty good investment.”

His lips were into hers again, swallowing her gasp as his body pressed into hers, heavy and hard and perfect. He kissed her hard, his mouth rough and hungry while rocking his hips against hers, and she moaned, digging her nails into his scalp as she arched into him. He tore his mouth away, with ragged breathing, his eyes pinning her in place as they locked with hers. “Last chance, sugarplum” His voice felt vulnerable beneath the heat. “You want this?”

She held his gaze and pressed herself against him, rubbing her breasts against his chest enticingly. "I want you to ruin me, papa bear"

He froze. Every muscle in his body went taut. His eyes widened, and his pupils blew wide as her words penetrated his fogged brain. “...What did you just call me?”

Her heart plummeted. Oh god. Why? Why did she have to let that slip out now, of all times? She could feel her face heating up, a wave of mortification crashing over her. “Um... uh...” She looked away, curling her fingers nervously into his shoulders. “Too soon?”

For a heartbeat, he was silent, his jaw tight and his chest heaving as he processed it. But then a low, guttural sound escaped him, somewhere between a groan and a growl. His head dropped to her shoulder, pressing his forehead into her as his body shuddered against hers. “Fuck,”

She let out a shaky breath, her heart pounding so hard she swore he could feel it. “S-sorry. I don’t... I don’t even know where that came from, I-”

He lifted his head, eyes dark, pupils blown. “Don’t.” His voice was rough, firm. “Don’t take it back.”

Her mouth went dry, and her body arched instinctively into him as his grip on her tightened. “You- uh... liked it?”

His lips curled into a feral grin, grazing her earlobe with his teeth before he growled, “You have no idea.” His nose brushed her cheek, his lips a breath away from hers. “Say it again.”

Her heart skipped a beat, face flaming. “I-” She hesitated, but the way his body trembled, the raw need in his eyes, the way he was holding her like he was afraid she’d vanish... it shattered any scruple she had. She leaned in, brushing his lips with hers as she whispered, “Ruin me, Papa Bear.”

He swore under his breath, crashing his mouth into hers again with bruising force. His hands gripped her tighter, possessive, desperate, and she moaned, opening up to him, letting him in. His tongue swept over hers, hungry and demanding, and she melted, her body molding to his as he consumed her.

He broke away just long enough to start tugging at her apron. “Take it off, or I’ll-”

The faint chime of the bell at the front door echoed through the storage room, hitting them like a bucket of cold water. Her eyes widened, and he stilled, with his fingers curled around the knot of her apron. The door to the storage room was wide open, and the front door? Neither of them had bothered to close it since none of this was supposed to happen.

His jaw clenched, and he lifted a finger, pointing at her with a look that could melt steel. “Don’t move.”

She barely had time to blink before he was striding out of the storage room, with his hair slightly mussed and crumpled clothing. He rounded the corner to find an elderly woman standing uncertainly by the counter, clutching her purse tightly in her hands.

His expression softened -just a bit- as he forced a strained smile. “It’s closed.”

The woman’s brows knitted together. “Oh, but I just wanted to-”

“Lemme accompany you out, yes?” He cut in, his voice dripping with forced politeness. “An emergency came up, and she’s... not here. I just stopped by to lock up.” His words were rushed, his body practically blocking the doorway.

“Oh, I see...” The woman glanced around, clearly confused but too polite to question him. “I’ll come back tomorrow then.”

“Good idea,” he agreed, already guiding her toward the door, hovering his hand protectively behind her back as she shuffled out. The door shut with more force than necessary, as the chime echoed sharply in the now-empty store. He twisted the lock, and stood there for a moment, with a rigid back, shoulders rising and falling with each heavy breath.

In a flash, he was back in the storage room, locking his eyes on her with a hunger that made her knees weak. He didn’t say a word as he closed the distance between them, and his fingers went immediately to the buttons of her blouse, his mouth trailing kisses over every newly exposed inch of skin.

He almost groaned when he saw her bra clasp at the front. “You’re a fucking menace,” he muttered, more to himself than to her, before popping the clasp with an impatient flick of his fingers. The fabric fell away, and his mouth and hands were on her before he could think: Palms warm against her bare skin, squeezing just hard enough to make her arch into him, a breathy moan escaping her lips. He latched his mouth to the delicate skin just above her collarbone, swirling his tongue, teeth scraping, tasting the salt of her skin.

She was driving him insane. Every little sound, every shiver, every way her fingers gripped his shoulders and pulled him closer.

Her hands were just as eager, fumbling with the zipper of his jacket, pushing it off his shoulders. She hesitated for a heartbeat when her fingers grazed his belly, flicking her eyes up to his. But there was no discomfort there, only hunger. Her pupils were blown, her lips parted, her breathing ragged. Her fingers splayed over his stomach, and the warmth of her touch sank into his skin even through the fabric of his shirt.

He kissed her harder, deeper, pressing her back against the wall as his body settled heavily against hers, his bigger form pinning her in place. She gasped, hitching her leg around his waist again, pulling him closer, grinding, her hips against his, and he nearly lost it.

His lips trailed lower, over the swell of her breast, and his stubble grazed her sensitive skin as his tongue flicked over an already pert nipple. She cried out, her fingers tangled in his hair, holding him there as her body arched beneath him, desperate, needing more. He was only too happy to oblige, closing his mouth around her, suckling greedily as his hand moved to the other, kneading, teasing.

“Bucky... please...” Her voice was a broken whisper, as her nails dug into his shoulders and scalp, and her body writhed against his.

He dragged his mouth back up to hers, capturing her lips in another bruising kiss, slipping his hand beneath her skirt, teasing the edge of her panties. “Want papa bear to touch you, sugarplum?” he growled, rough and low, “Want me to prep you open nice and deep and then ruin this little pussy?”

His words made her shiver, and her whole body tensed at the need in his voice. She could barely breathe, could barely think, as her mind spun while his fingers danced along the delicate lace of her panties, teasing, taunting.

“Yes,” she breathed, her voice trembling, her hips rolling instinctively toward his touch. “Yes, please.”

A low, satisfied growl rumbled from his chest, “That’s my good girl.” His fingers hooked under the fabric, dragging her panties down slowly, deliberately,  grazing his knuckles on the sensitive skin of her thighs. He wanted to savor this, to watch her come apart for him.

He lifted her easily, her back hitting the wall as her legs wrapped around his waist. The feeling of her pussy against his stomach made him swear under his breath, his head dropping to her shoulder again as he struggled to hold on to the last shreds of his self-control.

His metal fingers pressed her hips into the wall, to accompany his body, pinning her in place as his flesh hand slipped between her thighs. She was already soaked, and he groaned, feeling his cock throbbing painfully against his jeans. “So fucking wet for me... all that from just a little talk?”

Her head tipped back, hitting the wall, lips parting in a breathless gasp as his fingers found her clit, circling lazily, teasing only to dip them lower, slipping them inside her, stretching her, pressing his thumb down on her clit.

He watched her face as he started to move his hand, pumping slowly, deliberately, curling just enough to make her shudder. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her mouth falling open in a silent cry as her hips rocked against his hand, chasing every thrust, every stroke.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his breath hot against her ear. “Such a greedy pussy, taking everything I give you.” His teeth grazed her earlobe. “You’re mine now.”

Her body clenched around his fingers, a whimper escaping her lips, and her nails dug into his shoulders as she held on, tightening her muscles as he pushed her closer to the edge.

“Gonna come for me, sugarplum?” His fingers started to move faster, harder, while his thumb circled her clit mercilessly. “Gonna fall apart on my fingers before I even get to ruin you properly?”

Her whole body tensed and her head snapped forward, pressing her forehead into his as she shattered with a force that stole her breath.

“That’s it... that’s my girl,” he whispered, slowing his fingers, easing her down from the high, brushing his lips against hers in a surprisingly tender kiss.

He adjusted his grip on her body, grinding his clothed erection against her, letting her feel how hard he was, how ready. “And now, I gonna give you what you wanted,” he growled.

He slid his fingers out of her and fumbled with the zipper of his pants "look at the mess you did here, all this cream on my zipper." she just moaned and grind herself against the back of his hand, thrilled by being pinned to the wall by his weight alone and his vibranium hand on her asscheek.

“Bucky... please...” Her voice was breathy, broken, and her body trembled as his metal hand squeezed her ass, holding her exactly where he wanted her.

He hummed, while his fingers continued to play with the wetness she’d left on his pants, dragging her up his length, letting her feel every ridge, every pulse under his denim. “You’re so needy for me, sugarplum,” he murmured, his voice low, rough. “So wet, so… ready.”

She couldn’t speak, couldn’t think, her mind was blank with need as he finally spread his thick thighs squatting a little, and sat her on them, tugging down his zipper, and freeing his heavy, leaking cock. He wrapped his hand around himself, and his eyes never left hers as he stroked once, spreading her slickness all over his length. “You see this?” he growled. “This is what you do to me.”

She bit her lip, her eyes locked down, watching him slowly pump himself, zeroed on the pornographic sight of his cock glistening with a mix of their arousal.

Seeing his heated gaze he leaned in, his voice a low, dangerous whisper. “You made this mess... now you’re gonna take responsibility for it”. It was all the warning he did before hooking the back of her knees on his forearms, and pressing his hands on the wall, surging forward, burying the fat head of his cock in her entrance, pushing himself inside her in one slow, stretching thrust.

Her mouth fell open, and a choked moan escaped her lips as he filled her, inch by agonizing inch. Her back arched against the wall, fingers scrambling for purchase on his arms, nails digging in as her body stretched to accommodate him.

He was relentless, his eyes locked on her face, watching every flicker of pleasure, every gasp, every shudder as he sank into her, slow and merciless. “You feel that?” His voice was a rough whisper, his breath hot against her ear.

She could only nod, as he pressed his hips in even deeper, against hers, burying his cock to the hilt. “Bucky... oh God...” Her legs trembled, thighs spread wide over his forearms, helpless to do anything but take everything he gave her.

He groaned, dropping his head to her shoulder, grazing her skin with his teeth as he fought to keep himself in check, to keep from losing himself in the incredible heat of her body. “Fuck... you feel so damn good... driving me crazy, sugarplum.” His words were rough, and breathless, his control slipping with every second he stayed buried inside her.

Her walls quivered around him, tightening instinctively, pulling him in, holding him close. “Bucky... move... please...” she pleaded, trying to roll her hips to create some friction, to ease the maddening stretch.

He didn’t need any more encouragement. His fingers almost dug into the bricks, and he began to move in slow, heavy thrusts that made her whole body rock against the wall. Each time he withdrew, she felt the loss, felt the emptiness, and each time he filled her again, her world shattered a little more as she felt his cock stretching her, filling her, owning her. “Oh God...”

He could feel himself losing control, as his thrusts grew harder and faster, pinning her like a ragdoll against the wall, relishing the needy moans and whimpers escaping her lips.

A hand flew to his head tugging his locks as he wrecked her.  “Fuck Papa Bear… you feel so good, so heavy, so… fucking… big, you turn me on so much.” 

Her praise wrapped around him, squeezing him just as tight as her body did, and his head spun with primal satisfaction. He groaned, as his cock throbbed and pulsed inside her flooding her with precum, and growing even harder inside her. “Yeah? You like this thick Bear covering you, pinning you, breeding you full?”

Her head thudded back against the wall, as she tried to tighten her legs against his forearms, to arch her body to join his thrusts, digging her nails into his shoulders. “Yes, yes, god, yes... love feeling you like this, love how big you are...”

“Fuck, sugar” his bruised ego drank her words like a man dying of thirst. Each confession went straight to his cock. He could feel her body yielding to him, taking everything he gave, and it made him lose his rhythm, made him rut into her like an animal, making her back slide up and down the wall with every hard thrust.

He lifted his arms to spread her wide to take him deeper. Her cries only grew louder, more desperate, and he couldn’t get enough of it. “You’re mine now, sugar plum. Fuck, ‘m gonna fuck you so good you’ll never look at another man again... gonna make sure you remember this every time you close your eyes.”

She whimpered as he buried his face in her neck, nipping her sensitive skin. “Bucky... Papa... please... don’t stop...” she pleaded, curling her fingers into his hair.

His mouth curved into a half smile against her throat. “Not planning to, sugarplum.” He rolled his hips, grinding deep, making her back arch and her legs quiver. “Not until you’re dripping with me... not until you’re so full of my cum you can’t stand.”

Her body convulsed, one hand remained fisting his hair and the other dragged her nails on his broad back, “Fuck! Yes, I want it so bad...”

He lost whatever thread of control he had left. His thrusts grew brutal, punishing as his cock stretched her, pounding into her with a force that bordered on savage. He watched her face contort with pleasure, as the base of his cock ground deliciously against her swollen clit. Her mouth opened in a silent scream, and her eyes rolled back as he drove into her, harder, faster. “You’re gonna take it all... every drop... you understand?”

She could only nod, her words were lost to the raw, consuming pleasure.

He was so close, muscles tensed to the point of aching, his breath ragged as his cock throbbed, his balls tightened, ready to spill. But he held on, watching her, waiting, needing to see her fall apart first.

“Come on, doll... give it to me... come all over my cock... let me feel it...” he growled, as his wide shoulders caged her in. “Bet you’ve never been this full before. Never had someone this big ruin you like this.”

Her nails raked down his back, desperate, her eyes rolling back as she tried to meet his rhythm but was utterly at his mercy. “F-Fuck, Bucky... so... so big...”

“That’s right,” he rasped, a savage grin flashing across his face. “Too big for this pretty little pussy, huh?” he lifted her higher and marked every word with a harder thrust.

Her entire body seized up before she felt herself shatter, arching against his body and squeezing him, milking him so tight he finally let himself go.

“That’s it... make a mess... make a fucking mess for me, doll... fuck!” his cock jerked, pulsing, as his release came hot and violent, spilling thick ropes of cum inside her. He kept grinding his hips, pressing himself as deep as he could, stirring his load inside her until it was too much to contain. The excess bubbled out around his shaft obscenely, warm and sticky, dripping down her thighs and landing on the floor.

He nipped at her collarbone, a lazy smirk curving his lips as he gently withdrew them from the wall. He eased her thighs down just enough to let her hook them around his waist, and his eyes flicked to an old chair in the corner of the room. Without a word, he began to move with steady steps despite the lingering tremors in his muscles. As he walked them over, each stride pressed him deeper inside her, drawing soft whimpers from her swollen lips.

Reaching the chair, he sank down heavily, the wood creaking beneath their weight. She straddled him, still nesting him deep inside her pussy, arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders, tangling her fingers on his hair. His hands settled on her hips, keeping her pressed close, unwilling to break their connection just yet.

His head fell back against the chair, closing his eyes for a moment as he let himself breathe. “You feel... too damn good. Could stay like this all day...”

Her fingers started to brush his hair gently. “Then don’t move... Just stay. You made sure that no other clients visited today." She slightly pinched his stubbled full cheek. "And... is not fair you didn’t remove any of your clothes besides your jacket in all this ordeal."

He huffed out a low laugh, that rumbled against her chest. “Yeah? That bother you, sugarplum?” His hands slid up her back, splaying wide as he pressed her tighter against him. “You wanna see all of me?”

Her fingers tightened in his hair. “I think it’s only fair,” she murmured, a teasing lilt to her voice. “I wanna see what I’ve been getting my hands on... what I’ve been wanting.” Her eyes dropped pointedly to his still-clothed body, darting her tongue out to wet her lips.

His eyes flicked away for a beat, and his shoulders tensed a little. There was a moment, a fleeting second where his hands stilled on her body, where his fingers dug just a little too hard into her waist. Old doubts echoed in his mind, flashing to his reflection in the mirror, the soft curve of his belly, the heft in his chest that wasn’t just only muscle.

But then she moved, running her hands up his chest, her eyes wide, pupils blown as she whispered. “I want to see you, Bucky.”

His heart thudded hard, but he felt himself relax, the tension ebbing away as he let out a slow, shaky breath. “Alright, sugarplum,” he murmured. “You asked for it.”

In one swift motion, he gripped the hem of his shirt, muscles flexing as he pulled it over his head and tossed it aside. He forced himself to sit there, exposed, waiting for the flicker of judgment, for her gaze to catch on his soft middle, or the faint stretch marks on his hips.

But her eyes were wide with interest as she took him in. Her hands roamed over him, tracing her fingers on his skin, lingering on the scars, the old wounds. She palmed his chest, brushing her thumbs over his hardened nipples, and his muscles jumped under her touch.

“Better?” his voice rough, his eyes heavy-lidded as he watched her explore him.

She bit her lip, as she kept worshipping him. “Better... but I’m not done yet.” She added as she trailed softly the scarred flesh where his prosthesis joined his body with her tongue.

His cock twitched with interest inside her, still hard, still nestled so deep. His hands gripped hard on her waist and his eyes narrowed. “You’re playing with fire, sugarplum.”

She smirked, rolling her hips slowly and deliberately. “Then burn me up, Papa Bear.”

Taglist: @civilbucky @blythesarchives

Dividers by:@/cafekitsune

[straylightdream]

heaven knows

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧����: jeon wonwoo x f.reader x kim mingyu

who knew being roommates could turn into so much more.

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞(𝐬): romance, roommates to lovers, angst, smut, fluff

𝐚𝐮(𝐬): non idol

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 16.7k

𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: nightmares from a past car accident mingyu had, anxiety, depression, body image issues, lots and lots of emotions, pregnancy, implied mxm (not really sexually but they hold hands and cuddle, the boys care deeply for each other)

𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: unprotected sex, creampie, oral (both rec), hand job, fingering, pussy stretching, big dick wonwoo, mingyu’s dick is even bigger, anal play, threesome, spit roasting, anal, double penetration, voyurism (both boys like to watch), needy reader, soft dom wonwoo (like he’s very soft, he just good a being in charge), nicknamed: baby, baby girl, princess (hers)

𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: mature, nsfw, 18+

𝐚𝐧: thank you so much to @gyubakeries for helping me out and beta reading this story. This is an older story that I really have been wanting to edit and rewrite. This just really made sense as a minwon story. I have fully reworked it and only some of the plot is the some and a couple scenes.

𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬.

Laying in your full-size bed, your soft body was curled up against the muscular body of Wonwoo. Your leg was thrown over his waist as your head used his chest as a pillow. Your body couldn’t be any physically closer to his. Curled up behind you, Mingyu was nuzzled up tightly against you. Mingyu has always had a thing for having your ass pressed against him as he slept.

It’s been two years since you moved in with the boys. Originally you moved into the city for a new job. You packed up your life and moved in with your childhood best friend Jeonghan for a little while. Once you were situated fully at work you knew it was time to find somewhere to permanently live. You loved Jeonghan but living with him and his girlfriend made you feel like you were intruding on them. Even though they both constantly told otherwise. You worked for a publishing house and were lucky enough to be able to work from home most days. You were lucky Jeonghan had two friends who had a three bedroom apartment looking for another roommate.

As soon as you met your future roommates Wonwoo and Mingyu, you instantly clicked. They were both extremely easy to live with. They were both kind, extremely neat and tidy. Mingyu was even an amazing cook who adores cooking for his roommates.

Mingyu radiates golden retriever energy. He’s tall and beautiful with tan skin. He works as a freelance videographer. He frequently goes on work trips. A perks of his job is how much he gets to travel.

Wonwoo is the black cat to his roommate's golden retriever. He’s more quiet and reserved with people he doesn’t know. Once he opens up with someone you can see how funny and, at the same time, serious he can be. He works from home like you do. He works at a big tech company, and also does streaming on the side. He also has to travel quite frequently for his job.

Things with the three of you started out platonic. Sure from the very beginning there were lingering touches and longing looks shared between you and the boys, but it was nothing romantic. Cuddling in bed was the closest you got to romance. You had fallen into this cycle of all of you sleeping in bed together.

It all started one night when you had a really bad nightmare and went to the kitchen to get water, and found Mingyu sitting on the barstool at the counter. He also couldn’t sleep himself. He told you about the nightmares he’s had since he was in college. You learned about the bad car crash he was in that almost killed him. He said he doesn’t really talk about it often. You were the only person he opened up to about that night other than Wonwoo.

“I don’t like sleeping alone,” he sighs.

“You don’t have to. I can lay with you if you want.” Part of you felt like you were crossing a boundary that you probably shouldn’t. But there was something about Mingyu that always gave you a sense of comfort.

Following Mingyu to his bedroom, you each take a side of the bed. For a while you just lay there staring at each other. After a while Mingyu reaches out to take your hand.

“Could I possibly hold you?” He asked barely above a whisper.

“Of course.” He pulls you close to him and ask you to roll over. Laying on his side, he moves so he presses up snug against you with his hand holding your soft stomach.

That was the first night you and Mingyu innocently shared a bed together.

It became a frequent habit of both of you sleeping together just to cuddle after Mingyu would have nightmares. Wonwoo joined in one night about a month in when he walked into Mingyu’s room to check on him and found him curled up next to you. You were both wide awake and spooning while talking. You both looked over at Wonwoo with the look of a child who got caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

“What’s going on here?” He asked, leaning against the door frame.

“I had a nightmare again and asked if she would lay with me.”

“Gyu, why didn’t you tell me?” Wonwoo’s face drops a little and he looks sad. Mingyu had mentioned that in the past, especially during college after his accident, Wonwoo was always by his side. He had said in the beginning that he couldn’t even sleep alone and Wonwoo would lay in his bed, holding his hand.

“I’ve been sleeping like this with (Y/N) for about a month.”

“Oh.” Part of you feels guilty that Wonwoo seems hurt.

“Did you want to join us?” Mingyu asked, tugging you closer to him.

“Would you mind?” Wonwoo sounds nervous. You both just shake your head. Slowly he crawls into Mingyu’s bed and curls up onto the other side of the bed in front of you. From that night on you rarely ever slept alone.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

You nuzzled against Wonwoo’s chest as you started to slowly wake up. Mingyu’s strong hand gently rubbed your thigh letting you know he was awake. Gently, you rolled off of Wonwoo, trying not to wake him up. Looking over at Mingyu who had moved back a little to give you room.

He laid on his back and signaled for you to cuddle up against him. You moved back into the position you had just been laying on Wonwoo. Your leg once again was tossed over Mingyu’s waist as your head nuzzled against Mingyu’s strong chest.

His hand grips your thigh and pulls you even closer to him. A soft moan passes your lips unexpectedly. This was the first time your cuddling had even gotten close to sexual. There was suddenly a thick sexual tension between you as you let out another low moan when your pajama covered cored rutted against his hip. Your eyes went wide as you bit your lip. You didn’t mean to moan, but the way he was pulling you closer to him was intoxicating.

His warm eyes locked onto yours, as if he was trying to figure out what was going on in your mind. You suddenly felt embarrassed at the fact you moaned as your body moved against him. Your eyes quickly moved away from his dark ones.

“Should I sleep somewhere else?” You rasped lightly, finally breaking the silence.

He shook his head quickly. The last thing he wanted was for you to sleep somewhere else, at this point he didn’t know if he was able to actually sleep all night without you or Wonwoo.

“What’s going on?” Wonwoo said, sitting up. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and looked over at the two of you confused about what was going on.

You rolled off of Mingyu quickly and laid on your back staring at the ceiling. You wondered if maybe it was time for you to start sleeping alone again. You couldn’t lie to yourself anymore. You were starting to develop feelings for both of the men you were sharing a bed with.

“I think I need to sleep alone,” you continued to stare at the ceiling. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at either of them. The embarrassment creeping across your face.

“What? Why?” Wonwoo his voice sounds raspy and sounds sleepy. He had just woken up to you suddenly saying that you didn’t want to sleep with them anymore.

“Because I can’t keep telling myself I don’t have feelings for you,” you felt embarrassed that you had to confess the feelings you had for them. You never planned on telling them. You felt as if your feelings might be one sided. Your cheeks burned bright as your eyes looked over slowly at Wonwoo and then at Mingyu who both had the same wide-eyed look as they stared at each other. Maybe if the bed would open and swallow you whole you could escape this.

“I mean I like you too,” Wonwoo said, speaking up as he looked down at you. He pushes his fingers through his messy hair.

Mingyu nodded his head, “I like you too.”

“Oh,” you were completely caught off guard. Mingyu was a man who had no issue with skinship. You hadn’t even thought about the possibility he would like you as more than a friend. Wonwoo had always been more closed off, almost afraid to put himself out there. The thought of him like you wasn’t something you could picture.

Leaning down, Wonwoo gently presses his lips to yours like he’s testing the water. Pulling back for a moment he gives you a smile. Without even thinking you lean forward pressing your lips to his.

Mingyu sits up and lets out a little laugh. “Why did I always know Wonwoo was going to be the first to kiss you.” The whole situation feels like a dream. Looking over at Mingyu, you stare at him, knitting your brows together.

Gently he reaches out resting his hand on your cheek. His thumb drags across your bottom lip. “I’ve never minded sharing with Wonwoo,” he whispers.

The moment your lips touch Mingyu’s you relax. Kissing both the boys just feels so right. Pulling away, Mingyu rests his nose against yours and smiles.

“Can we maybe talk more about this later? I’m exhausted and still want to cuddle,” Wonwoo asked as he laid back down.

“Okay we can talk about details later,” you said, still attempting to process everything.

Wonwoo moved so he was laying on his side and pulled your soft body so you were curled up against him. Mingyu smiled as he watched you curl up against Wonwoo.

“Are you going to join?” You asked.

He nodded his head as he slowly moved to become the little spoon in front of you. His strong body pressed against your soft one. Your hand was over his waist and he reached up and laced his fingers with yours and gave your hand a little squeeze.

Wonwoo gently pressed his lips to your bare shoulder and whispered, “I’m glad you moved in with us.”

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

It’s a rare day when yours and Jeonghan’s schedules fully line up, and you find yourself itting in a coffee shop, where he’s telling you about his latest promotion at work.

“I feel like I haven't seen you in ages. I have seen Wonwoo or Mingyu either,” Jeonghan says before taking a drink of his coffee.

“They’re both really busy with work, and work has been stressing me out. I really only see the boys at night now.”

“Are you sleeping better now?” Jeonghan knows about your nightmares and how sometimes you can barely find sleep because you can’t turn your mind off.

A heavy sigh passes your lips. How do you explain to Jeonghan that the only way you can really sleep now is curled up against your roommates? You aren’t even sure how to define your relationship with the boys. Are they technically both your boyfriends?

“Yeah, I am.”

Jeonghan studies you by knitting his eyebrows together. “How is it living with the boys? Are you still liking it like you used to?”

“Yeah, they’re great.”

A smile forms on his face. “So which one of the boys do you have a crush on?” Your face instantly burns with embarrassment and you don’t even know how to respond. “My original thought was Mingyu, but I think Wonwoo’s black cat gamer tech boy thing might get you.”

”Hannie.”

“Oh it’s definitely Wonwoo,” he perks up at the fact he thinks he figures you out. There is no point in correcting him, and maybe it’s best if he just thinks you like one of your roommates.

“Enough about who I may or may not be crushing on.” Reaching out you grab your cup of coffee. “How is your girlfriend? Have you proposed yet?”

His smile instantly drops now that you have turned the tables on him. “You know, before her, I never wanted to get married, and don’t get me wrong—I want to marry her. I just don’t know if this is the right time.”

“When do you think the right time will be?”

“I think I’m just scared, but probably now,” His girlfriend has brought up getting married a bunch. Jeonghan was her first serious relationship after her college boyfriend cheated on her and she fell hard for your best friend.

“Hannie, I think you need to stop being scared. She’s literally perfect for you.”

“I like that you turned the tables on me. Instead of just talking about your crush you brought this up,” he shakes his head taking another drink of his coffee.

“I learned from the best.” He can’t help but smile at your response.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Mingyu was away for a video shoot in Japan he was filming. This was your first time alone with Wonwoo since you confessed your feelings and shared your first kiss with each boy. You’ve fooled around quite a bit together. Each boy can’t seem to keep their hands off you and Wonwoo has his head between your legs any chance he gets. The man is very passionate about eating you out any chance he gets.

Mingyu was supposed to be arriving home any time soon. As Mingyu was leaving, he had asked Wonwoo to look after you. He called you “their girl”—the sweet nickname that left you wanting to giggle like a schoolgirl.

Wonwoo and you were curled up on the couch. You leaned into his side as the movie you were watching played on the tv in front of you. His strong hand rested on your thigh as he aimlessly drew circles onto the skin. His touch caught your attention. You glanced up at him as you were attempting to watch the movie. How were you supposed to focus on a movie when the man that was always capturing your attention was touching you?

His focus was on the tv in front of him, but he could feel you looking at him. He looked down at you with a smile playing across his lips.

“Yes, Princess?”

Your eyes narrowed, “you can’t just touch me and expect me to actually watch the movie playing.”

He bit his bottom lip and held back a smile.

“Did you want it to be more than an innocent touch?” he asks as his hand moved towards the inside of your thigh. Slowly, you nod. Over your leggings, he gropes your core with his large hand. You close your eyes as you take in the feeling.

A soft moan passes your lips. Without warning, he pulls his hand away from you. He doesn’t give you a chance to think before he moves you so you were facing each other. He reaches forward and connects his lips to yours in a passionate kiss. His fingers tangled in your hair pulls you closer to him as your lips danced together. His strong hands grab your soft hips, moving you so you were straddling his waist. His hands roam your back as your lips continue to move against each other. The way you were kissing, you would have sworn that you needed each other to breathe. The sound of the door opening caused you to pull apart. With wide eyes you both looked up to see Mingyu standing by the tv.

“I see you took care of our girl,” Mingyu smiled as he stared at the pair of you who look like you got caught doing something you shouldn’t.

“Hey Gyu,” Wonwoo awkwardly said as you crawled off of him, and moved back to your spot on the couch you had been sitting on.

“Why are you two acting like I just walked in on you cheating on me?” Mingyu was confused on why you were suddenly acting guilty.

You shrugged your shoulders, “I don’t know.” This was all new to you. It felt strange that Mingyu would be okay with you openly kissing his best friend.

“(Y/N), you’re allowed to kiss Wonwoo and do whatever you want with him. You don’t ever need to ask for my permission,” he smiled as he walked towards you and sat on the coffee table that was sat in front of the couch. He reached over and placed his hand under your chin and gently tilted your head up so you were looking into his warm eyes. “I could have walked in on you two fucking on the couch and I wouldn’t have cared. The ball is in your court at all times, Princess. Whatever you want from all this is what you get. If you want to be with both of us, you can. If you only want to be with only one of us, we both understand.”

Both Wonwoo and Mingyu wanted you to be happy, and they both had agreed that no matter what happened, your happiness was what mattered the most.

“I want both of you guys,” you whisper, still almost unsure that all of this was real. How could both of these men possibly be okay with openly sharing your affection?

“Then you have both of us Princess,” Wonwoo said from beside you.

“Did you want me to leave so you guys can go back to making out on the couch?” Mingyu asked with a soft laugh as he released your chin. “Things seemed to be heating up. Maybe Wonwoo could lay you down the couch and eat you out.” He earns a laugh from Wonwoo.

“No, did you want to cuddle and watch the movie with us?” You asked.

“I would love that.”

You moved back into Wonwoo’s side and Mingyu sat down on the couch next to you and rested his hand on your thigh.

“I missed you guys,” Mingyu smiled gently, massaging your thighs, earning a soft sigh from you.

“We missed you too,” Wonwoo said before leaning over and pressing his lips to the top of his favorite girl's head.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Sitting in the kitchen you’re working on a project that is due soon. Mingyu is making breakfast and Wonwoo is on his phone intently reading something.

“I need you two not to judge me, but I need to ask something?”

Mingyu continues to whisk his pancake batter, “shoot.”

“I don’t exactly want to assume, but assuming we were to start having sex. How would that work with the three of us?”

“Didn’t Mingyu eat you out earlier this morning?” Wonwoo chimes in.

“I think she means fully having sex. I don’t think she means what we have been doing.” Mingyu responds.

“Well, we can do it however you want. You can have one on one sex with each of us. You can have all both of us in the room. Hell, you can have both of us at the same time,” Wonwoo’s final sentence earns a smirk from Mingyu.

The thought of a threesome before this all started never even crossed your mind. Yet now you can’t stop thinking about what it would be like to be with both of them at the same time.

“I’ve never done any kind of butt stuff.” You nervously say.

“Do you ever want to?” Something tells you Wonwoo is familiar with what you would need to do to enjoy anal.

“I’m intrigued by it. I would definitely want to try it out separately. I don’t think I’m prepared to try it while taking one of you at the same time.”

Mingyu barks out a laugh, “baby the first time you try anal it won’t be while I’m inside you.” You almost find it funny. It's assumed that Wonwoo is the first person you will try anal with. It probably has something to do with Mingyu’s size. You’ve given him head quite a few times and you can’t even fit half of him in your mouth. You’re quite familiar with Wonwoo’s cock now as well and he’s large but much more manageable.

“Do you think maybe I could have a solo first time with each of you?”

“Of course. Do you have a preference on who you would like first?” Wonwoo asked.

There is a nasty thought eating away at you that you’ll hurt one of their feelings if you pick one of them.

“I don’t want to hurt either of your feelings. I don't want you to think I have a favorite.”

Wonwoo sets his phone down, raising his eyebrow, “nobody thinks you have favorites.”

“If you want Wonwoo to be first I won’t be upset,” Mingyu says as he starts pouring the batter into the hot skillet.

“How about I make this easy for you. Joshua asked me to go to the gym this afternoon and meet up with Seungcheol. Why don’t you and Mingyu spend some quality time together. Maybe you can take your clothes off.”

Mingyu smiles as he focuses on making breakfast. Your cheeks burn a little at the thought of what is going to unfold when Wonwoo leaves. “That works for me.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” Mingyu smiles.

Your first time with Mingyu was everything you imagined it would be. He was gentle and took his time to fully explore your body.

Laying on his bed in his room he used to sleep in, your legs are spread. He’s laying between them with his hard cock pressed against your core. He just finished eating you out until you cried. He decided now he needed to focus on other parts of your body. His lips are attached to your perk nipple. One hand groped the other as his lips were focused on your nipple. The way he’s using his mouth made you feel like you might cum just like this. Your eyes are closed and your fingers are tangled in his hair, holding him close to your chest. Ever so often he’ll grind his cock against your mound, giving you the friction you desperately crave.

“Mingyu- please-” you’re not even ashamed to beg for more.

Releasing your nipple with a pop, some of his saliva is attached to your puffy nipple. “Yes princess?”

“Please just I need you inside of me.”

Pulling his body up onto his knees. “Do I need to use a condom?”

“Um, we didn't discuss that with Wonwoo.” You feel stupid this is definitely something the three of you should have discussed.

“Are you on birth control?” Silently you nod. “Did you want to go bare?” You’ve never done it before and the thought of Mingyu’s huge dick being inside of you bare is almost enough in itself to make you cum. “I want our first time to be completely bare, but we need to ask Wonwoo if he’s okay with that as well.”

“Do you have to call Wonwoo?”

A heavy sigh passes his lips as he crawls off the bed. He walks over to the dresser where he left his phone. You take this time to admire his beautiful naked body that’s on display. Opening his phone he goes into his favorites and hits Wonwoo’s contact. He presses the speaker and sets his phone on the bed next to you where you’re laying in the same position. It rings all of four times before Wonwoo answers.

“Gyu what’s up?”

“Please tell me I’m not on speaker?” Mingyu asked, crawling back onto the bed.

“No, what's up?”

“Can you take this call in a private place? The boys don’t need to hear any of this conversation.” Mingyu sits on his knees in between your spread legs.

“Is everything okay with (Y/N)?” You can hear the background noise on Wonwoo’s side getting quieter and quieter.

“I’m okay,” you finally speak up.

“Hi baby,” Wonwoo responds.

“Hi Wonu.”

“What’s going on that I have to make sure the boys can’t hear?”

A smile forms on Mingyu’s lips as he rubs your knee, “well, me and princess were about ready to fuck and we realized that we never discussed what the rule is with condoms.”

“Mingyu, it's more of her call on if she wants us to wear them.” Wonwoo responded immediately.

“Shouldn’t you both agree on if we decide to go bare?” You speak up.

“Baby I would prefer we don’t use them, but that’s if you’re on birth control and Mingyu is also okay with it.”

“She on birth control and fuck, I desperately want to feel her raw.”

“So, no condoms?” You ask.

“We don’t have to use them. I’m clean. I got tested the month after you moved in and I haven’t been with anyone since.” Wonwoo says.

“I’m also clean.” Mingyu chimes in.

“Same here. I haven’t had sex in like four years.” You still feel a little embarrassed admitting that.

“Have fun you two,” You can picture him smiling on the other end. “Princess, when I get home, how about I steal you away for a while?”

“Okay.”

“Bye guys.”

“Bye Wonwoo,” You both say.

Mingyu ends the call and tosses his phone away from you. “Princess, where were we?” He gets back into the same position hovering over you. He reaches between you taking his length in his hand. “It might hurt a little. If it’s too much just tell me.”

Leaning up, you press your lips to his for a gentle kiss. “I’m ready.”

It wasn’t a lie. The feeling of him stretching you out did hurt. A gasp passes your lips as you attempt to adjust to the feeling of him. Leaning down, his nose rests against yours.

A soft whimper passes your lips.

“Baby I’m sorry.” He sounds distraught.

“Please just go slow.”

He treats you like you’re made of glass. His thrust is slow but deep. Connecting his lips to yours, he helps take your mind away from the aching feeling below. With each thrust the painful feeling starts to disappear.

“You feel so good,” he moans against your lips.

Your hands crawl across his back, wanting to desperately touch every part of him.

The coil in your stomach tightens as you get closer and closer to finding your release. Every muscle feels as if it’s tightening when your high washes over you. Your walls contract, pulling on his large length.

His own high has him moaning against your lips. He fills you with thick white ropes of his release. Dropping down to his elbows, he lays some of his weight on your soft body. Your fingers run through his hair, enjoying the feeling of him being so close. “I love you,” he softly whispers against the delicate skin on your chest. Almost as if he doesn’t want you to hear.

“I love you too,” you whisper back. This is the first time these words have been exchanged, but you truly love them both.

After a little while, Mingyu removed himself from you and cleaned up his release before crawling into bed with you. An afternoon nap felt like the perfect post sex aftercare.

Slowly your eyes opened up at the feeling of the bed moving. The room was dim, letting you know the sun was setting. Silently you watched as Mingyu was trying his hardest to be quiet.

“Where are you going?” Your voice is soft.

Looking back at you he steps closer to the bed. Leaning down he kisses your lips gently. “I just got a text asking to check some emails and seeing if I could help Vernon with some editing for a shoot he did.”

“Oh, okay.”

“Baby don’t worry I’m not leaving you alone. Wonwoo just got home and is in the bathroom.”

“Oh.”

A smile pulls on his lips, “I think he’s showering and you joining him might be the perfect surprise. He’s using his old bathroom with the walk-in shower.” The bathroom connected to the main room you all sleep in is a pretty big shower bath combo.

Another quick kiss is pressed to your lips before he leaves you alone in bed.

Slowly crawling out of bed you are debating on getting dressed. Deciding to be brave you walk down the small hallway to the bathroom naked.

Opening the bathroom door as silently as possible, you step inside. The sight of Wonwoo’s very naked body through the glass is practically mouth watering.

The door clicking shut catches his attention. He looks at you smiling.

“Are you going to join me?” He speaks a little louder to hear him over the water.

Stepping into the shower, he wasted no time pulling you close to him. Pressing his lips to yours for a heated kiss.

“Did Gyu take care of you?”

Your nose rests against his as you say, “yes he did. Are you going to take care of me now?”

“Let me wash your hair.”

Stepping under the warm water Wonwoo takes his time massaging your favorite strawberry shampoo into your scalp. Reaching back, your hand runs across his wet skin.

“Are you trying to seduce me?”

“Maybe?” You smile.

“Baby let me wash your hair and take care of you, and then I will take my time exploring your beautiful body fully.”

He keeps his word. He washes your hair and then takes his time washing your body with your favorite body wash. Once out of the shower he wraps a towel around you before he blow dries your hair.

With lust filled eyes you watch as he dries his own body. Holding his hand out he takes your towel from you leaving you both fully naked.

Stepping into the hallway, you get one step away from him before he wraps his around you pulling you back against him. His hard cock pressing against your lower back. He helps you walk towards the living room holding you close.

You don’t even make it your bedroom. He takes you down to the living room floor. Luckily on top of the soft rug Mingyu made a big deal about buying.

“Baby our first time should be on our comfy bed,” he sighs as you kiss his neck.

“Wonwoo, I want you. You’re the one who dragged me down here.” You say with a soft laugh.

Pulling away from you he stands up. Holding his hand out he helps you stand up. “You can have me. But let me take care of you in bed.” Pulling away from you, he stands up. Holding his hand out, he helps you stand.

Walking into your shared room you crawl on to your unmade bed. Wonwoo joins you, taking his time to kiss his way across your body while he takes his time fingering you. Pulling his finger from your core he smiles at the sight of some of Mingyu’s cum.

“I see Mingyu took advantage of not wearing a condom.” You feel instantly red with embarrassment. Your attempts to close your legs are instantly stopped by him. “Baby, don’t be embarrassed. I like it,” He chuckles. He holds his fingers close to you. Deciding to be brave, you wrap your lips around his finger, taking Mingyu’s release into your mouth. “I see you like it too.”

He takes his time kissing everywhere his mouth can reach. His lips focused on pebbles nipples as his fingers start pumping in and out of you. For your first orgasm, you fall apart moaning his name.

“Baby lay on your side.”

He comes up behind you, rubbing his cock through your folds, gathering your release. He takes your leg, helping you rest your foot on his leg to give him more access to your core.

The hand under your body massages your heavy breast. Ever so slowly he pushes his length into you. He’s definitely larger then the average man, but not as big as Mingyu. The stretch feels absolutely intoxicating.

His hips move into you at a slow but deep pace. The echoing sounds of his low groans, and your moans fill the room.

“Baby can you play with your clit?” He moans in your ear.

Your hand immediately goes to your puffy clit,making quick circles on your sensitive nub. The orgasm that hits you feels like a white wave. Everything feels fuzzy. His thrust pick up, chasing his own release as your walls contract.

His hand grips your hip, pulling you back on him. Tilting your head back he crashes his lips into yours. You moan into his mouth as he kisses you like he needs you to breathe.

He doesn’t pull out, he just holds your body close. Your heart is telling you to say those three words you told Mingyu. Without thinking you say, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“I love both of you.”

You don’t have to look back to know he’s smiling. “Did Gyu say he loved you?”

“He whispered it to me.”

“He's been holding back saying that for a month.” He presses his lips to your shoulder. “I need to clean you up but right now I just want to stay inside you.”

“We can stay like this.”

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Seungcheol decided to throw a little get-together at his place. Wonwoo drove the two of you and Mingyu was coming later.

Wonwoo was in the kitchen talking to Joshua and Seungcheol while you were sitting on the small balcony with Jeonghan drinking a glass of wine.

“Where is your girlfriend?” You asked him.

“She had to work a late shift at the bar.” Jeonghan’s girlfriend works as a bartender at the bar you all frequently meet at downtown.

“I feel like I haven’t seen her in forever. Tell her we should have another wine night.”

Jeonghan smiles before taking a drink of his beer, “I will definitely let her know.”

The sound of laughter through the sliding glass door catches your attention. Looking back you see Wonwoo and Seungcheol laughing about something.

“So did you figure out your crush on Wonwoo?”

“You could say that,” you hadn’t actually told anything about what was going on with the boys. “I’ve kinda started something with him.”

“I think Wonwoo would be good for you.” Jeonghan truly only wants what’s best for you.

The sound of the sliding glass door opening catches your attention. Mingyu is standing over you, smiling.

“Hey Hannie,” he waves to your best friend. “Hi baby,” he leans down pressing his lips to yours for a quick kiss. “Did you need anything to drink?”

“No, I'm good. Thank you though.” You say, holding up your glass of wine.

“I’m gonna chat with the boys inside.”

Jeonghan’s eyes are about bulging out of his head as Mingyu leaves the porch. “Does Wonwoo know you’re kissing Mingyu?”

A heavy sigh passes your lips. Leaning further back into your seat, “yes Wonwoo knows, and before you ask, Mingyu knows about Wonwoo.”

“Are you trying a poly situation?”

“Yeah I guess you could call it that. It started out innocent. We originally used to just cuddle because I can’t sleep and Mingyu gets nightmares.”

A smile forms on Jeonghan’s face, “is it no longer innocent?”

“Hannie,” instantly you roll your eyes.

“Are you fucking both of them now?” He sounds so excited asking you this.

“Yes.”

“Are you having threesomes?”

“Yoon Jeonghan, I’m giving you no details about my sex life.”

The sliding glass door opens and Wonwoo peaks his head out, “come inside, the pizza here is here.”

Standing up you walk inside and Wonwoo instantly pulls you into his chest. He presses his lips to yours for a soft kiss. “The boys know about us and Mingyu.”

“Hannie knows too.”

“That’s good. We have nothing to hide,” he presses his lips to yours for another kiss.

“Baby do you want pizza?” Mingyu asked over at the counter.

“Yes, please.”

Wonwoo stands behind you and wraps his arms around your waist. Leaning back against him you instantly relax.

The night with your friends is nice. It’s rare that everyone gets a chance to hang out. Mingyu takes your hand, leading you out of Seungcheol house. He’s been yawning nonstop for the last hour.

Walking into the apartment, Mingyu heads off to take a shower while Wonwoo heads off to the kitchen. You join Wonwoo in the kitchen. He making a cup of tea.

“Princess, would you like a cup?”

“Yes please.”

“Mingyu seems extra tired tonight,” Wonwoo sighs.

“I think he needs to get some sleep. I think his shoot today was draining.”

After drinking your cup of tea you find Mingyu already curled up in bed and sound asleep. It’s not long before you fall asleep curled up between the boys.

Waking up in the middle of the night the first thing you notice is the room is empty. You’re confused on where both the boys went. Slowly getting up, you walk into the living room and find Wonwoo and Mingyu on the couch together. Mingyu is lying on the couch with his head resting in Wonwoo's lap. Wonwoo is gently brushing his fingers through Mingyu’s dark curls. Mingyu is clearly sleeping fully relaxed resting on Wonwoo.

“Is everything okay?” You whisper walking towards him.

“Gyu had a bad nightmare and I just got him to calm down.” Before you started living with them Mingyu told you that Wonwoo would take care of him after having nightmares. It’s very sweet seeing Mingyu curled up against Wonwoo relaxing.

“Sorry if we woke you up,” Wonwoo says just above a whisper.

“You’re fine. How bad was his nightmare?”

“He woke up crying for the first time in a while. Back in college, they were like this constantly. It got so bad that I had to put a mattress on the floor by his bed. Eventually I would just lay in bed holding his hand while he slept.”

“You both have a special connection.” You aren’t sure if they ever shared a romantic connection before you came around, but it’s clear they both love and deeply care for each other.

“Gyu is my best friend and I would do anything to make him feel better.” Wonwoo continues running his fingers through Mingyu’s hair.

“Do you think we should get him to go back to bed? This can’t be comfortable for you to sleep.” You ask.

Gently Wonwoo rubs Mingyu’s arm. “Gyu, let’s go to bed. Our baby wants to cuddle with you.”

Mingyu’s eyes slowly open. “Can I lay in the middle please?” He sounds as if he’s barely awake.

“Of course.”

Laying in bed Mingyu stares at the ceiling. His breathing is uneven. “Gyu, what’s wrong?” Wonwoo asked, lying on his side facing Mingyu.

“Can you hold me Wonwoo?” A gentle smile tugs at your lips. You love seeing how much they mean to each other.

“Of course. Did you wanna hold princess while I hold you?”

“Yeah.”

Mingyu moves to his side so he’s facing you. Wonwoo curls up behind Mingyu, spooning him. Mingyu let out a soft hum as Wonwoo gently rested his hand on his stomach.

Curling up in front of Mingyu he holds you close. “This is nice,” Mingyu whispers.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Both of your boys were away for the weekend. They both decided to go home to see their families together and you couldn’t help but get lost in your own thoughts as you laid in your bed alone for the first time in forever. You were starting to doubt yourself, you didn’t understand why two men would want to be with you. Let alone two men who looked like them. Glancing over at the clock you saw the time read two in the morning. You weren’t even close to tired anymore.

Lifting the covers, you crawled out of bed and walked off towards your bathroom starting the warm water. You slowly stripped off your clothes and stepped into the water. The warm water engulfed your body, you couldn’t help it as tears started to slide down your cheeks. You were over thinking everything and you knew it. You had a really rough day at work. It was a rare day when you had to go into the office and just anything that could go wrong did go wrong. Your shitty day at work probably wasn’t helping at all. Another thing was you were supposed to start your period any day and that always made you emotional. You ran your hands across your tear stained face and washed away your tears.

You stayed in the shower for what felt like forever before you finally got out. You shut the water off and wrapped a towel around you. As you turned around, you heard the bathroom door open and turned to find Mingyu walking inside looking exhausted.

Suddenly you felt embarrassed by the fact that Mingyu walked into the bathroom to find you crying in the middle of the night.

His soft eyes roamed your face attempting to figure out what was wrong with you. “Baby, what's wrong?” he stepped towards you and wrapped his arms around your basically naked body, pulling you into his chest.

“I just had a rough day, and started over thinking about everything,” you sighed as the tears continued to slide down her cheeks. You felt stupid that you let little things get you down, but you couldn’t help it.

His strong hand gently rubbed your back as he pressed his lips to the top of your head. You closed your eyes and held on to him. You knew you didn’t need to be crying, but you couldn’t help it.

“Where’s Wonwoo?” You murmured, still holding on to him.

He pulled away from you and gave you a small smile, “he’s exhausted. The second we got back, he stripped down to his boxers and got into bed.”

“Oh, okay,” you whispered.

“Baby, what aren’t you telling me?” he had both his hands on your arms, staring at you to figure out what was going on in your head.

“Why do you guys want to be with me? I’m literally nothing special,” you sighed. “Half the time I feel like I’m an emotional wreck.”

He moved his strong hand and gently rested it under your chin and tilted your head up so you were looking at him, “you are so beautiful inside and out. I can’t imagine my life without you, and I’m pretty sure Wonwoo feels the same way.”

“I don’t feel like I’m worthy of the feelings you guys have for me,” you sighed.

“Don’t ever say that,” he leaned forward and pressed his lips gently to your tear stained cheek. “Stop doubting yourself.”

“Why do you put some pajamas on and we’ll crawl into bed with Wonwoo?” He gave you a simple smile. “or if you want you can just take that towel off and crawl into bed,” he smirked slightly.

“I’ll get dressed for bed,” you reached over and picked up your oversized shirt that was on the sink next to where you were standing. Mingyu watched you as you slowly got dressed for bed. He wasted no time lacing his fingers with yours and led you towards your bed. As you got close to the bed you found Wonwoo sound asleep on the far end of the bed. You crawled onto the bed and moved over closer to Wonwoo. His eyes slowly opened and saw you giving him a sad smile.

“Princess, what’s wrong?” he asked, sitting up noticing something was wrong. He looked over at Mingyu who had a concerned look on his face. “Mingyu what's going on?”

“Our girl had a rough day and needs some love.”

Wonwoo didn’t bother responding, he leaned forward and gently connected his lips to yours. His hand rested on your cheek as he stared at you for a moment.

“Why do you guys like me so much?” you whispered.

“I can list a million reasons if you want me to,” he leaned forward and rested his forehead against yours. His hand was resting on your cheek.

Mingyu moved onto the bed and rubbed your back gently before pressing his lips gently to your shirt-covered shoulder.

“Why don’t we all get some sleep princess?” he whispered.

“I think Mingyu has a good idea,” Wonwoo whispered.

Wonwoo laid back down and you curled up against him and he pressed his lips to the top of your head. Mingyu curled up behind you and whispered, “baby we love you so much.”

“Mingyu is right, we love you,” Wonwoo chimed in.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Wonwoo gripped your hips as his own hips thrust into you over and over again. You couldn’t help but moan his name over and over again. Your hands moved to grip the sheets next to your hips. Mingyu had gone to workout, leaving you and Wonwoo alone for a little while, and it didn’t take long before Wonwoo had you naked and on your back.

He sat back on his haunches as his hips thrust into yours over and over again. Your back arched as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge.

“Wonwoo,” your high pitched moan echoed off the walls.

“Babygirl, let go,” he rasped as he leaned forward. He pressed his lips to your soft stomach as he rolled his hips against yours. You wanted every piece of the man thrusting into you. Everything about him was absolutely intoxicating to you. His skin glistened with sweat as he looked down at you like you were his world.

It only took a few more thrust before he pushed you over the edge. Your walls pulled him in, and he thrust a few more times before he hit his own high. He laid down on the bed next to you and stared at the ceiling as he panted. He looked over at you to see you with a huge smile on your face. If you looked up word bliss in the dictionary, this moment would be found.

“Did you enjoy that?” he asked, reaching over and lacing his fingers with yours.

Silently you nod as you look over at him.

“I hate that I have to leave for a business trip soon. I wish I could just stay here with you and Mingyu.” You hate when the boys have to travel for work, but you never tell them. You always tell them they’ll be back before they know it. “I’m going to miss you baby.”

“I always miss you.”

Leaning over he presses his lips to your. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” He pulls away smiling at you.

“Man, Mingyu missed out by going and working out,” he laughed softly.

Before you could respond the door to your room opened and Mingyu walked inside to see you and Wonwoo naked lying in bed. Mingyu pushed his eyebrows together and smiled at the sight in front of him.

“I see I missed the fun,” he walked over and sat down on the bed.

“I got my own workout in,” Wonwoo teased.

“I guess I should stop going to the gym,” Mingyu jokes.”I’m sure Seungcheol would understand if I told him I got a new work plan going. I could tell him all about my new personal trainer who can’t keep her clothes on.” Wonwoo chuckles softly at Mingyu's statement.

“Well if you’re not too tired I’m sure (Y/N) would let you get another workout in,” Wonwoo lifted your hand up and pressed a light kiss to the top of delicate skin on top.

You bit your lip and smiled. You couldn’t believe you were so lucky that two beautiful men seemed to be absolutely in love with you and both wanted to sleep with you.

“Princess, could you go for another round?” Mingyu asked, looking at you.

“I guess,” you joke. Even if you were absolutely exhausted you couldn’t turn down the chance to be with Mingyu. Sex with him is always intense and he like for you to be a pillow princess so he can worship you.

“I’ll give you guys some alone time. I’m in need of a shower,” Wonwoo released your hand and got out of bed.

Mingyu pulled off his shirt and watched as you sat up and leaned against the headboard. Wonwoo walked over and patted Mingyu on the back before heading off to the bathroom. Mingyu reached down and pushed off his sweatpants and his boxers. Hungry eyes traveled up and down his toned body. The sight of his naked body was absolutely mouthwatering. Crawling onto the bed he watched as you laid back down and smiled at him. He moved so he was hovering over you and connected his lips to yours for a passionate kiss.

“I need to stop leaving you and Wonwoo alone,” he rasped with his lips brushing against yours.

“At least he is also giving you alone time with me,” you reached up and rested your hand on his cheek.

“Remind me to thank him for that,” he smiled before pressing his lips to yours again.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

As the clock struck four am Wonwoo pulled himself away from your sleeping form that was curled up next to him. He was attempting to not wake you up, but you were a light sleeper and the second he moved your eyes opened.

“Is it time for you to leave?” You whispered, attempting to not wake Mingyu who was sound asleep next to you. He has a very early flight to catch. He hates that he’s been going on business trips more often recently.

“Yeah baby, my flight is super early. I’ll be back in three days,” he leaned down and pressed his lips to yours for a kiss goodbye. “I love you.”

“I love you too. Please come back safe,” you said as you watched him walk out of your bedroom.

You rolled over and curled up next to Mingyu who hadn’t even woken up. Since you’ve been constantly sharing a bed, Mingyu’s nightmares barely seem to happen now.

Closing your eyes you only got a little more sleep before you woke up again. Laying in bed you curled up close to Mingyu. He had his arm wrapped around you holding your close. You had a big day ahead of you today. While Wonwoo was away and your mother was coming into town. The three of you had talked it out and agreed that you would say you were only dating Mingyu for the time being. You still couldn’t help but be nervous. You hadn’t ever had many of your past partners meet your mother.

Your head was resting on his strong chest as you attempted to go to sleep.

“Baby, are you awake?” he asked as his strong hand gently rubbed your side.

“I can’t sleep,” You whispered.

“Do you maybe wanna take a bubble bath?” he asked, knowing that was one of your favorite ways to relax.

“Mingyu it’s five in the morning,” you glanced over at the alarm clock on the bedside table.

“So,” he didn’t see a problem in you taking a bubble bath.

“Alright let’s take a bubble bath,” you said softly.

Pulling away from Mingyu’s body you slowly got out of bed and followed Mingyu off to the bathroom. Mingyu walked over to the bathtub and started feeling it up with warm water. You reached under the sink and pulled out one of your favorite bath bombs and dropped it into the warm water.

As the water started to rise Mingyu stripped away his boxers and stepped into the warm water. You removed your undies and oversized shirt and stepped in the tub in front of him. You leaned against his bare body and instantly relaxed against his touch. His strong hand rested on your thigh and aimlessly drew circles on your skin.

It was moments like this you were happy that you had Mingyu in your life. He always knew the best ways to calm you down.

“I miss Wonwoo,” you whispered. When this all first started you worried about stating your feelings for the other man, but they both constantly informed you they weren’t competing for your love. You were allowed to love both of them equally.

“I miss Wonwoo too, baby.” Wonwoo was truly Mingyu's other half. They shared a bond like you have never seen before. You feel as if they’re soulmates and we’re always supposed to be in each other's lives.

Leaning your head back you rested your head against Mingyu’s shoulder. You were exhausted but so nervous about tomorrow you couldn't sleep.

You knew you don’t need to be nervous. You weren’t telling your mother that you were involved with both Wonwoo and Mingyu, you were only telling her about Mingyu.

“If Wonwoo was here would all of us fit in this tub?” His words caused you to smile.

“I guess it would have been a relaxing night time shower then,” you lightly laughed.

He pressed his lips to the side of your neck for a gentle kiss and you couldn’t help but smile. His touch was so relaxing to you.

“Are you worried your mom isn’t going to like me?” Mingyu couldn’t lie, he was nervous your mother wasn’t going to like him. When they agreed that you would tell your family you were only dating one of them,he had originally thought Wonwoo would be the one saying he was the boyfriend. Everyone always seemed to be drawn to Wonwoo, he was charming and people loved him. Wonwoo and you both agreed that it should be Mingyu though for some reason.

“I know my mom is gonna love you. I just don’t like the idea of not telling her about Wonwoo, but she wouldn’t understand,” you reached down and laced your fingers with Mingyu’s hand that was under the water.

“Maybe after we have been together for a while, we can tell her about Wonwoo,” he said, knowing eventually you would need to tell your family about Wonwoo. Neither of you wanted to hide Wonwoo. He wasn’t a dirty little secret or anything like that. You love him just as much as you love Mingyu.

“Yeah I like that idea,” you said with a smile.

You sat in the warm bath for probably half an hour, talking about little things. When you got out you were barely awake. Mingyu helped dry you off then he took your handed leading you to bed, curled up under the covers soon you both quickly fell asleep.

When your mother met Mingyu she couldn’t help but be charmed by the man with curly hair and golden skin. When she first arrived, Mingyu was so nervous he didn’t even know what to say. It didn’t take long before you and your mother were laughing at one of his stories from his childhood. Your mother seemed to love Mingyu and when you walked her out to her car she kissed Mingyu on the cheek and told him to take care of her daughter.

You sat in the kitchen waiting for Wonwoo to come home. His business trip was over and he was supposed to be walking through that door at any moment. You missed him dearly and couldn’t wait for him to come home. Mingyu was off taking a shower, he had asked you to join him, but you told him you didn’t want to be in the shower when Wonwoo walked through the door.

It was pretty early in the morning and you let out a yawn. You walked over to the coffee pot and started to make some coffee for you and the boys. As you turned the coffee pot on you heard the front door open. Turning around you found Wonwoo walking in, limping. Your eyes went wide and suddenly you panicked,rushing over to Wonwoo who seemed to be moving slower than normal. He dropped his duffle bag and wrapped his arms around you as you buried your face in his chest. Leaning down he pressed his lips to the top of your head.

“Wonwoo are you alright?” You asked, worried about him.

“Yeah babygirl I’m fine. I’m just a little sore, I definitely overworked myself when I was working out last night at the hotel with Joshua.”

“You had me really worried for a moment,” you sighed.

“I’m fine you don’t have to worry about me,” he leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours for a soft kiss. “How did Mingyu meeting your mother go?”

“It went great, my mom loved him,” you couldn’t help but smile thinking about how great things went with your mom. “Maybe after we’ve been together a while longer we can introduce you to her as well.”

Leaning up once again you pressed your lips to his. Wrapping your arms around him, you deepen the kiss. You had missed Wonwoo so much. You grabbed his hand and led him off to your that has now become the shared bedroom for all of you.

You walked him over to your bed and reached down for the bottom of your shirt and pulled it off. Wonwoo had truly missed you, but he didn’t expect this greeting when he arrived home. He reached to pull off his own shirt and groaned at the soreness.

“Wonwoo, are you okay?” You asked worried about how hurt he actually was.

“Yeah baby, I’m fine,” he pulled his shirt off the rest of the way and worked on getting his shoes off. “Me and Joshua did a boxing match at the hotel gym I forgot that Shua is stronger than he looks.”

You took this as your chance to remove your pale blue pajama bottoms. He pushed his sweat pants down and boxers and he stood there naked in front of you. Taking his glasses off, he sits them on the dresser. You reached up and softly connected your lips to his for a gentle kiss. You missed him so much, you hated when you had to spend time apart.

Lancing your fingers with his you led him towards the bed. Wonwoo laid down on your unmade bed and you reached over and pumped his hardened length a few times. You had desperately missed the feeling of his skin. Slowly you crawled into the bed, and lined his erection up with your entrance. There is no time for foreplay. You’ve missed him too much. After the first few thrusts, you’ll adjust to his size. You slowly sank down on his length.

You gasped as you bottomed out on his length and Wonwoo let out a breathy moan. He had missed you so much and he loved you so much he couldn’t get enough of you. Slowly you moved yourself against him.

Mingyu walked out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. He couldn’t help but smile at the sight of you on top of Wonwoo. Both Wonwoo and you looked over at Mingyu and gave him a small smile. You continued to ride Wonwoo as Mingyu acted like nothing was going on and worked on grabbing some boxers out of the dresser. It didn’t take long before Wonwoo and you both hit your highs. Wonwoo paints your walls white as he grips your hips.

Crawling off him, you laid down next to him. Mingyu leaned against the wall and smiled at the two of you who were both trying to catch your breath. Mingyu walks into the bathroom and comes back holding a washcloth. Tapping your thigh he signals for you to open your legs. Ever so gently he cleans up his best friend's release that is already dropping out of you.

“Thank you,” Wonwoo sighs.

“Wonwoo what’s up with the bruise?” Mingyu asked, noticing Wonwoo’s bruised skin.

“Me and Shau did a practice boxing match at the hotel gym last night.”

Mingyu let out a soft laugh, “she’s the best kind of medicine.” He walked over and crawled into bed next to you and curled up next to you.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

“You know, when I pictured going on a double date with you and your future boyfriend I never imagined it would be with my dorky gamer friend,” Jeonghan teases sitting across from the table. Wonwoo lets out a laugh as his hand rest on your thighs.

“Hannie,” his girlfriend says, slapping his arm.

“Where is your guy’s other boyfriend?” It’s not unusual for Jeonghan to refer to Mingyu as both of your boyfriends. Wonwoo never corrects anyone. Neither does Mingyu when people call Wonwoo his. That might be because they're in a relationship together as much as they are with you. They’ve never done anything really romantic except cuddle and hold hands from what you know. But even if they had it wouldn’t change anything. You would fully embrace it if they wanted to be intimate together.

“He’s in Japan for a video shoot,” Wonwoo says.

“What have you two been up to?” You're attempting to change the subject of your relationship.

“So we asked you guys if you wanted to meet up because I’m moving,” Jeonghan’s girlfriend statement catches you off guard.

“Are you moving too Jeonghan?”

“No, she is moving to England.”

The table is suddenly silent as you process what you’re being told. They’ve been together for a really long time. It’s insane that now they would do long distance.

“Are you going to do long distance?” Wonwoo asked exactly what you were thinking.

“No, we actually broke up two weeks ago. I’m going to stay with Jeonghan for another week before I move.”

Looking up at your best friend you can see the sadness in his eyes. He’s no longer smiling as he stares at the table.

“Hannie, are you okay?” You wish you didn’t find out right now. You wish he would have told you sooner so you could be there for him.

“I’ll be okay.”

The whole dinner felt like a blur. You all made small talk and you couldn’t help but focus on Jeonghan who seemed like he was trying to be happy.

Standing in the parking lot you say goodbye to Lana before she walks off to Jeonghan’s car. Wonwoo gives you a kiss before he says he’ll meet you in the car. He knows you need a moment with your best friend.

Jeonghan puts his hands in his pocket and sighs.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know. We haven’t told anyone. I wasn’t really sure how to process this. Hell, I was just getting ready to buy her a ring.”

Stepping forward you pull him into a hug. He’s stiff for a moment before he relaxes resting his cheek on top of your head. “I’ll be okay. Once she moves I’ll be able to fully process this.”

“If you need anything you can call me, any time of the day or night.”

He pulls away from you and smiles. “I’ll be okay. How about once she’s gone we can get dinner and ice cream.”

“Ice cream to heal your heart?”

“Yes, to heal my heart.”

“Please call me,” you step back.

“I will. Now go spend time with your gamer boyfriend. Something tells me he’s looking forward to one on one time.”

Walking over to Wonwoo’s car you can’t help but feel sad for your best friend. Sliding into the passenger seat, Wonwoo watches you.

“I had no clue they broke up. I had been pushing him to take the next step with her.”

“I know he’s sad, but Jeonghan is a good guy and he’ll find the perfect person for him.” He rests his large hand on your thigh before giving it a squeeze. “How about we go back to our place and cuddle on the couch and watch a movie?”

Walking into the house Wonwoo and you head off to the master bedroom. You both decided to get dressed for bed. Wonwoo puts on a pair of lounge pants that sit low on his hips and you opt to only wear a baggy shirt and a pair of panties.

Curled up on the couch you just want to be close to Wonwoo. His arm is wrapped around you. His large hand rests on your soft stomach.

You can barely focus on the movie. You’re only focused on his hand that has started gently kneading the flesh on your stomach.

“Wonwoo?”

“Yeah baby?”

“Thank you for loving me.”

“You were so incredibly easy to fall in love with.”

Gently he presses his lips to your shoulder.

“You were the missing piece in both me and Mingyu’s life.”

There is a long moment of silence. “You two truly made me so comfortable in my own skin again.”

“Baby you’re beautiful inside and out.” His hand that is resting on your stomach gently squeezes your flesh.

“I feel so much more confident in myself.” This didn’t happen overnight and being with the boys didn’t suddenly give you confidence. It took baby steps to get here but you finally feel so comfortable and happy in your own skin. For the first time in your life, you truly feel sexy.

You also finally feel happy and there isn’t a sadness lingering over you. That’s because of a healthy and loving relationship and the help of therapy along the way.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

You, and the boys glided through the crowded party. Your hand was holding Mingyu’s strong hand tightly. He led you away from the party to his old room at Seungcheol’s house. At one point in time both your boys lived with Seungcheol here. Wonwoo followed right behind. You snuck off upstairs away from the crowd as everyone was ringing in the new year. The moment the door was opened he pressed you against the wall and moved his lips down your neck. Wonwoo slowly walked in behind you. Mingyu seemed to be way more eager than Wonwoo was. Wonwoo walked over and sat down on the bed and watched as Mingyu’s hungry lips moved down the base of your neck as his hands worked on getting your dress off. Mingyu groaned at the fact that you weren’t wearing a bra. He removed your dress leaving you only in undies and your black high heels, your soft body on full display. He stepped away and worked on getting his own clothes off.

You looked over Mingyu’s shoulder to find Wonwoo sitting on the bed watching with a smile on his face. He seemed amused by what was playing out in front of him. Wonwoo tended to watch and direct you both from the sidelines before taking his turn or joining in.

You reached down and removed your heels and undies as Mingyu stripped off the rest of his clothing. The second he was naked he gave himself a few strokes, he connected his lips to yours and dipped his fingers into your core to give you some foreplay as his lips moved against yours in a hungry kiss. You moaned into the kiss at the feeling of his fingers circling your sensitive nub. You pulled your lips away from his and moaned his name loudly. He took this as his cue and lifted your soft body up like you weighed nothing. He thrust into you in one quick motion. Your hands gripped his back as he pressed you against the wall as he slid into you over and over again. The angle he was hit with each thrust had you seeing stars.

You couldn’t help but moan with every thrust. You held on to him tightly as he worked at a quick pace. Looking over at the bed you found Wonwoo biting his bottom lip as he palmed himself through his dress pants.

Mingyu’s lips moved to the side of your neck where he left a trail of wet kisses. He groaned against your skin as he was getting close to his high. It only took two more thrust before he pushed you over the edge. You rode out your high as he thrust a few more times before finishing inside you.

“Wonwoo,” you whispered as Mingyu sat you back down on your feet. Pushing your legs together you feel his cum start to slowly drip out if you. He stood up and started unbuttoning his shirt. He could tell by your tone what you wanted. With your legs slightly wobbly you walked over to Wonwoo who was standing next to the bed removing his dress shirt. You stood in front of him for a second before you leaned up and pressed your lips to his.

Mingyu walked over and sat down on the chair by the window still coming down from his own high. Despite how much he wanted to get in on the action, he wanted to give you and Wonwoo some time to yourselves. There were times that you would have sex all together, but they also liked to give each other their alone time with you.

You reached between Wonwoo and you and undid his belt and buttons on his pants. He was the only one in the room still wearing clothes. It didn’t take long before Wonwoo’s clothes were on the floor and he moved to the bed.

Your soft body was sitting on his hips as he lay underneath you. Your hands rested on his chest and you moved your body slowly up and down his length. Mingyu sat silently on the chair for a little while, before he got up and moved over to the bed. He leaned over and started placing wet kisses across your shoulder as you rode Wonwoo like your life depended on it. You tilted your head back and moaned.

“Gyu play with her clit,” Wonwoo was good at giving Mingyu directions in bed. Mingyu will always fully listen to whatever his best friend asks him to do.

Mingyu pressed himself against you rubbing his already hardening length against your ass as his hand dipped between your folds. Rubbing your clit as Wonwoo raises his hips to meet you. Mingyu can’t take his lips off the side of your neck.

“Fuck-“ you brain feels like it’s filled with static. With zero coherent thoughts.

“I think we need a new position. Princess is short circuiting,” Wonwoo teases below you.

“What position do you want?” Mingyu asked, still toying with your sensitive clit.

“We don’t have lube so I don’t think she can take me in her ass right now without it and she definitely can’t take you.” He’s not wrong, both of your boyfriends are big, but Mingyu is absolutely huge. Wonwoo dick is the perfect size for you, and sometimes it takes a little extra work to make it comfortable for you to be able to take Mingyu. When it comes to anal, most the time Wonwoo is the only one allowed to fuck your ass. You’ve taken Mingyu a few times but it stresses him out and you're definitely in pain the next day. Even though the man is obsessed with your ass. He knows when it comes to anal that Wonwoo is the best option.

“Baby how do you feel about sucking off Mingyu while I take you from behind?”

“Please.”

Wonwoo helps you get on your hands and knees. His hands massage the flesh of your ass as he runs his length through your folds.

Taking Mingyu large cock in your hand you start working your hand up and down his length.

“Baby spit on it,” Wonwoo moans.

Opening your mouth you spit onto his length just like Wonwoo asked.

Wonwoo pushes into your quickly earning a moan. One hand rests on Mingyu thigh helping to support yourself while you lean down to take him hard cock in your mouth. With his size you can’t fully take him but he’s okay with that. His hand is holding your hair back from your face as you bob your head, taking him past your gag reflex. Wonwoo’s hands are gripping your hips as he snaps his hips into yours over and over again.

“You’re so fucking tight,” Wonwoo groans.

“Baby-” Mingyu whimpers.

You aren’t sure how long you can last like this. Wonwoo’s pace is fast and he’s brushing just the right spot that has you seeing stars. Pulling off Mingyu’s dick, you whimper, looking back at Wonwoo who seems completely lost in the moment.

“You’re doing so good baby, taking care of me and Gyu.”

Leaning back down, you take Mingyu’s cock in your mouth again. He groans, leaning his head back. His body feels tense under your touch. His whimpers let you know he’s close.

“Gyu if you’re going to come in her mouth, ask princess for permission.” Wonwoo sometime like to be in charge in the bedroom and you and your other boyfriend won’t ever complain.

“Baby where can I finish?” Mingyu practically whines.

Popping off him, some saliva is attached from his cock to your mouth. “In my mouth.”

“I’m close.” He whines.

Leaning back down you start sucking him off like your life depends on it. Wonwoo makes you moan when he reaches in between your legs and starts playing with your sensitive clit.

Your orgasm hits you like a train. Moaning around Mingyu length he fills your mouth with his cum. Pulling off of him with a pop, you fall forward resting your head on his thigh as Wonwoo pace gets quicker.

“Fuck-” you moan.

“Fuck-” Wonwoo’s hips still as his finds his own release. Filling you to the brim with milky white release.

Wonwoo slowly removes himself from you. He crawls off the bed as Mingyu sets you up in his lap. He runs his fingers through your hair as he presses his lips to yours for a gentle kiss. He could care less that he can taste himself on your lips.

Both the boys have left you fucked out and exhausted.

“I love you both,” you smiled, feeling dazed in pure bliss. Wonwoo crawled back onto the bed lying down next to you and Mingyu.

“We love you too, babygirl,” Mingyu leaned down and kissed your cheek.

Wonwoo silently laid there with a huge smile on his face.

“I think we wore Wonwoo out,” Mingyu jokes.

He closed his eyes and nodded his head with a huge smile on his face.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Your first anniversary was a major milestone you were looking forward to. Initially,you wanted to plan something for the boys. Before you could even think of anything, Wonwoo informed you to just let them plan something.

Your night started at a romantic dinner at a fancy sushi place you have always wanted to try. Mingyu even picked out a dress and lingerie he wanted you to wear. When you walked out of the bedroom in the skin tight dress Mingyu picked out, you weren’t even sure you would leave the house at the way both the boys were eye fucking you. Hell if they wanted to spend the whole night having sex you wouldn’t complain.

The dinner was absolutely perfect and when you got home they took their time undressing you before worshiping every ounce of your body.

Laying on top of Mingyu, your pussy rubs against his hardened length. His fingers are tangled in your hair as he kisses you. Wonwoo is behind you watching as he’s getting the stuff he needs to prep you to take him in your ass.

A cold dollop of lube lands on your tight ring of muscle. Pulling your lips away from Mingyu you look over you shoulder to find Wonwoo smirking at you as his thumb applies some pressure to your asshole.

“Oh-” you moan.

“Does princess want to take both of us at the same time tonight?” His thumb fully slips into your ass.

“Please-” this is a rare treat taking them both at the same time. You’ve done it a handful of times and you want to do it more, it just takes more prep than normal.

“Gyu can you put it in and just let her cockwarm you while I finger her? She needs extra prep tonight.” Wonwoo isn’t necessarily bossy in the bedroom, and doesn’t try to dom either of you. But he’s really good at being in charge and giving you both directions.

“Baby can you slowly take me in?” Mingyu asked.

Silently you lift your hips. Mingyu helps, holding his length at your entrance. Ever so slowly you slide down his huge length. You already feel full, and you don’t have anything in your ass yet.

Wonwoo’s finger slides into your ass slowly. “Mingyu keep her relaxed. Kiss her, do whatever you need to do to make sure our princess is relaxed.” This isn’t the norm in the bedroom. When you do take both of them at the same time it takes some patience from everyone.

Tangling his fingers in your hair he pulls your lips down to his. The kiss is sloppy, filled with lots of tongue. Your brain feels scrambled trying to focus on the second finger Wonwoo has in your ass, and the feeling of Mingyu snug inside you.

“You’re such a good girl,” Wonwoo’s large hand massages your fleshy butt cheek. “Are you ready for me?”

“Yes.” You pull away from Mingyu mouth.

Wonwoo grabs the bottle of lube and takes his time coating his erection. Mingyu’s lips are on your breast, helping distract you.

The initial feeling of Wonwoo pushing into your ass is always a little uncomfortable. The stretching feeling takes some time to get used to. A soft whimper passes your lips, capturing Mingyu’s attention. He takes your face with both hands. His thumb drags across your bottom lip, earning a smile.

“You’re doing so good,” he whispers, almost as if you’re alone in the room.

“It feels intense.”

Wonwoo bottoms out and stills, giving you time to adjust. “Baby do you need me to stop?” Wonwoo snaps you out of the little haze you were in.

“No, I just need a moment.”

His hand rubs up and down the small of your back helping you relax. “You’re so good at this baby. You’re absolutely perfect.”

“You’re just saying that because I like to let you both double team me.” You can’t help but tease.

Mingyu smiles instantly at your words. “That’s just a bonus baby.”

“You both can move. Just please go slow.”

Mingyu stays completely still, letting Wonwoo get in a few shallow thrust. Wonwoo’s large hands grip your sides, helping steady himself.

“Gyu move-“ You whine.

Mingyu thrust up into you the best he can from below you. You try to help, but Wonwoo is holding you in place. The feeling of both them filling you up fully isn’t something you can fully comprehend.

Your brain feels like mush and you can’t think of anything other to say than moans and whine a mix of their names, and curse words.

Wonwoo bends over, completely plastered against your back. His lips are your shoulder sucking marks into your skin. One of his hands reaches around you and starts rubbing quick circles against your clit.

You’ve been teetering on the edge for what feels like hours. Every muscle in your body feels tense. There is a pressure building inside you that you can’t quite explain.

The moment your orgasm hits you, it feels like an explosion. You cry out as all the tension releases and your body releases a liquid all over Mingyu below you. This is a first for all of you.

Your arms give out and you collapse on Mingyu. He moans your name before he fills you with milky white cum. Wonwoo hasn’t stopped thrusting into you. He’s changed his position slightly. He’s still thrusting into you over and over again, pushing you against Mingyu who is still snug inside you. His softening cock is plugging up his cum from leaking out.

Wonwoo gives you three firm thrusts before filling your ass with his own release.

Pulling out slowly he rolls onto the bed next to you and Mingyu. Mingyu has done nothing to try and remove himself from you. His hand brushes your hair away from your face.

No one says anything for a long moment. Mingyu is the first to speak. “Did you squirt on me?” Your body burns with embarrassment suddenly.

“She did, it turns out taking both of us and playing with her clit will make her.” Wonwoo says.

“That’s so embarrassing.” You sigh.

“That was the exact opposite of embarrassing. That was fucking hot.” Mingyu smiles.

“We’re gonna need to clean the sheets before we go to bed.” Wonwoo says. Of course your neat freak boyfriend is thinking about changing the cheats after he’s made you squirt on Mingyu.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Sitting on the floor in the bathroom you mind raced. Your emotions were all over the place and your brain fought with the feeling of sadness, happiness and guilt. The dinging on your phone let you know that five minutes had passed letting you know that it was time.

Reaching up on the counter you looked at the two pink stripes on the stick that let you know that you were indeed pregnant. Most women would be over the moon to find out they were pregnant, but you couldn’t help but feel guilty. You had never discussed having children with Wonwoo and Mingyu and you honestly had no clue who the father was. You were on birth control and neither of the boys used condoms anymore.

The sound of knocking on the bathroom door caught your attention. Before you could even dispose of the pregnancy test Wonwoo walked into the bathroom. His mouth opened to say something but immediately shut as he looked at the pregnancy test that was in your hands.

“Princess are you okay?” He asked, sitting down on the floor next to you.

Quietly you shook your head and looked into his warm eyes. You wonder if the baby is his if they’ll get his beautiful lips or warm eyes.

“What does it say?” He rested his hand on your thigh and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“I’m pregnant,” your voice shook as admitted it out loud for the first time.

“Why are you sad about that?”

You took a deep breath wondering what exactly you should say, “we never talked about having children and I don’t know which one of you is the father.”

A look of confusion crossed his face as he reached for your soft body. Without a second thought he pulled you into his lap. You sat on his lap and rested your head on his strong chest. A sigh pasted your lips as your eyes brimmed with tears. His hand rubbed your side and his lips pressed to the top of your head. He took a long moment just holding you. He wanted to comfort you, but he knew you were mentally going through a lot processing the fact that you knew you were pregnant.

“It doesn’t matter who the father is. We both love you and no matter what, and we’ll raise this child together with you,” he murmured as his hand continued to rub your side. “If the baby is mine I’ll love it with all my heart, and if it’s Mingyu I’m still going to love it the same way. No matter who the father is, Mingyu and I will be that baby’s dads together.”

Glancing up at him you found him smiling. He seemed to be happy about the fact that you were pregnant. A small sense of relief started to wash over you at the fact that he wasn’t worried about the fact you didn’t know who the father was.

Sniffling back tears, you asked, “do you think Mingyu is going to be okay with me being pregnant?”

Wonwoo and Mingyu were in very different places in their lives mentally. Wonwoo was pretty well adapted to what he wanted in life, and Mingyu was still trying to figure out what he fully wanted with his life. His dream of pursuing directing was something that always stopped him from settling down before you.

“Mingyu’s always longed for a family in the city, and the sense of having a home here, and starting a family with you is something that he needs.”

A warm feeling in your chest let you know that everything was going to be alright. That things between you and the two boys weren’t exactly normal in the eyes of society, but what you had was perfect to them.

“Mingyu should be home from working out anytime, do you want to tell him?” Wonwoo asked.

You gently nodded your head and crawled out his lap. He stood up and reached his hand out to help you stand up. The moment you were standing he leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours for a sweet kiss. Pulling his lips away from yours he wrapped his arms around your curvy torso and hugged you. His hand rubbed your back and he whispered, “there is no other woman I would rather have a child with, and there is no other person I would rather share being a father with than my best friend.”

Pulling away you looked up at him and couldn’t help smiling. The sound of the bedroom door opening caught your attention. Wonwoo reached down and grabbed the pregnancy test and handed it to you and smiled.

You walked out of the bathroom to find a shirtless Mingyu looking through his drawer in one of the dressers. He turned around and his eyes immediately went to you and noticed your eyes were puffy in the aftermath of your tears.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Mingyu asked.

Without a word you held out the pregnancy test. Silently he stepped forward and grabbed the pregnancy test, his wide eyes stayed locked on the pregnancy test. You couldn’t help but be worried about the look on Mingyu’s face. His dark eyes were wild for a long moment before he looked up at you and instantly his expression softened.

Wonwoo stood next to you holding your hand, he knew that all of this was scary for you.

“You’re pregnant?” Mingyu asked, finally breaking the silence that had grown so loud between all of you.

Slowly you nodded not sure what to say.

“I’m assuming we don’t know who the dad is?” He asked not actually caring who the father was.

Shaking your head, you tried not to cry. “The way I see it, it doesn’t matter who the father is. We’re both fathers to this baby,” Mingyu reached out resting his hand on your stomach. His response warmed your heart and you smiled.

“Told you he would be happy,” Wonwoo leaned down and pressed his lips to the top of your head.

“I’m finally going to have a little family of my own,” he walked towards you and wrapped his arms around your soft torso pulling you into a tight hug. “I love you so much babygirl.”

Stepping back you looked over at Wonwoo who had a really big smile on his face. Both boys seemed genuinely happy that they were going to have a child. You had gone from feeling sad and guilty to suddenly overjoyed that you were going to be starting a family with the two boys who you loved and adored.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧���˚

Your hand rested on your growing stomach. As you sat on the large couch that was in the middle of your living room. You leaned against Wonwoo while your feet were resting in Mingyu’s lap. Strong hands massage your feet as your eyes are held closed enjoying the closeness with the boys.

Without saying a word you reached for the pillow on the floor and laid it down in Wonwoo’s lap. He couldn’t help but smile as you moved to lay your head down in his lap while Mingyu massaged your feet.

From the moment they discovered you were pregnant both the boys had gone out of their way to make sure you were treated like a princess. Both them were over the moon that you were expecting a child.

Recently your hormones have been all over the place. You went from wanting to cry to wanting to tear the boy’s clothing off with your teeth.

“Baby, are you tired?” Wonwoo asked as he rubbed your arm gently.

“I’m exhausted every moment of my life right now,” you let out a soft laugh. “Carrying this baby takes all my energy.”

Reached up, Wonwoo gently rested his hand on your round stomach. It still amazes him that either Mingyu or him had created a life with you. He couldn’t wait to see if the baby was going to look like you or either him or his best friend.

“You look so beautiful carrying our baby.”

“You two are lucky you’re charming and good looking because this baby takes all my energy,” you teased.

“We’re sorry the baby is making you tired,” Mingyu said, speaking up.

Leaning over Mingyu placed a sweet kiss on your knee.

“I’m supposed to be cooking dinner for your birthday Mingyu.”

Wonwoo looked down at you shaking his head smiling, “It’s cute you think that you’re cooking dinner.”

In the last two months as you crossed over from your second trimester to your third. The boys were letting you do less and less. You had originally planned to cook the boys an amazing dinner for Mingyu’s birthday but both the boys kept shutting you down.

“If I don’t cook, who is going to cook?”

“We are more than capable of cooking dinner for us,” Mingyu gently squeezed your foot. You looked at him and tried not to laugh at his comment. “Don’t be rude,” he gently squeezed your foot one last time.

“So Princess, have you figured out if you want to find out if we’re having a boy or a girl?” Wonwoo asked, attempting to change the subject.

You were still trying to decide if you wanted to know if you were having a boy or a girl. Since finding out you were pregnant you had gone back and forth on if you wanted to find out.

“I mean I still don’t know. Maybe the gender can be a surprise along with figuring out who the dad is,” you tried to joke about the situation that still made you feel guilty.

Wonwoo leaned down and pressed his lips to your forehead. His touch was gentle as if he was trying to calm you.

“We both have told you over and over it doesn’t matter who the father is. This is both of our baby,” Wonwoo's voice was warm and calming.

“He’s right,” Mingyu said, speaking up.

“I know I just feel…” you paused trying to gather your words. You slowly sat up and took your feet off of Mingyu’s lap and sat in between both the boys. “It’s just an odd feeling. I feel like I’m breaking one of your hearts.”

“Hey,” Mingyu reaches over and rested his hand on your cheek and gently twisting your head so you’re looking at him. “No one is upset here or hurt. You mean the world to both of us and we both love you and the baby equally. It doesn’t matter who the biological father is. We don’t even have to ever find out if you don’t want to.”

Your eyes were locked on his kind dark colored eyes. Slowly you blinked for a moment before you leaned forward for a sweet kiss.

“I don’t think I want to find out,” you whispered, feeling a sense of relief wash over you.

“Then we don’t find out,” Wonwoo answered.

“If you want, maybe after this one grows up a little bit we can try to have another one. Say this little you’re carrying now is mine, we have to focus on making the next baby Mingyu’s if they makes you happy.”

“Does that mean one of you boys would have to wear a condom every time?”

“Yeah and we would be fine with that,” Mingyu chimes in.

“Thank you boys.”

You put your feet up on the coffee table and reached over and took both of their hands. You knew nothing about their lives were normal but wouldn’t change your life for the world. You would never know how you ended up lucky enough to have two wonderful men in your life. Or how you were lucky enough to start a family with them.

~&~

Standing in the living room you watched as Mingyu held your daughter. He gently swayed side to side singing softly to the little girl who stole his heart. It was very clear early on into her life that Wonwoo was the father to your little girl. She looked so much like him it was hard to deny.

You and Wonwoo had just returned from the store and hadn’t expected to find Mingyu dancing with his daughter. You couldn’t help the smile that is plastered on your face as you watch them.

“Is that how Mingyu calms her down?”you asked looking up at Wonwoo.

“When I dance she doesn’t giggle like that,” Wonwoo acted as if he was offended even though he wasn’t. Wonwoo absolutely adores how much his daughter loves Mingyu. He couldn’t be happier that he’s getting to experience fatherhood with his best friend.

“Look mommy and daddy are home,” Mingyu says walking over towards you.

“Did she behave?” You asked as you walked closer to Mingyu and your daughter.

“This little girl was a complete angel while you were away,” he winked before he pressed his lips to the top of his daughter's head.

Your daughter says, “dada,” clinging to her other father. Mingyu lights up every time his daughter calls him that.

In all the time you had been with Mingyu and Wonwoo things between the three of you just kept getting better. The addition of your daughter seemed to bring all of you closer than you had ever been before and none of you thought that was possible.

Wonwoo heads off to the kitchen to put some of the groceries away. You stood in the living room staring at Mingyu for a moment before he handed you your daughter. You’ll never get over how completely perfect your little girl is. Holding your daughter close, you press your lips to the top of her head. Swaying to the beat of the music you hummed along to the song. It’s not long before your little girl is sound asleep in your arms.

“I should probably put her down for a nap,” you say quietly.

Walking off to her nursery you lays her down in her crib and press your lips to her forehead before slowly leaving her room.

Walking back into the living room you find Wonwoo and Mingyu sitting down on the couch. You smile as you sit down between them.

“I don’t want to brag but I personally think we made the perfect baby,” you state proudly.

Mingyu shrugs and lets out a chuckle, “I mean you aren’t wrong. I think our next one will be just as perfect.” It still stings a little that Mingyu is gonna to have to wait a little while to have a child that is biologically his.

You both look at Wonwoo who is smiling. He lets out a soft laugh of his own before saying, “I’m aware our daughter is beautiful. She looks like her mother. She was bound to be stunning.”

Biting your bottom lip you hold back a smile as blush crept across your cheeks. You’ll never get over the fact that both boys are so attracted to you, and how much you love your life with them.

“I love you both,” you beams.

“And we love you,” Mingyu says as he leans over and presses his lips to your shoulder.

It’s moments like this that make you feel like your life is perfect, and you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

FOUR YEARS LATER -

Jeonghan’s birthday party is always an event. His house is filled with friends celebrating. Things have changed since you’ve had kids. House parties have now become family friendly events.

Jeonghan’s girlfriend of two years Honey looks like she has a serious case of baby fever as she holds your son. At only six months old he’s just as charming as Mingyu.

Mingyu is with Wonwoo in the kitchen helping your daughter get something to eat.

“My godson just looks like a mini version of Mingyu,”

Jeonghan laughs.

“I sure made some cute kids.”

“I would usually joke being like, are you sure you know who the dads are, but your daughter is the perfect mix of you and Wonwoo. And that little one is just a mini Gyu.” He’s not wrong, your daughter definitely looks like both you and Wonwoo and you aren’t sure if you just didn’t clone Mingyu at this point. There was absolutely no denying he’s the father of your son.

“So does Honey want kids?”

“About that-“ Jeonghan watches his girlfriend with a smile on his face. “We think she might be pregnant.”

“Does that mean I finally get to be a godmother?”

He rolls his eyes, “yes you get to be a godmother.”

“Mommy,” your daughter screams running towards you holding an ice cream bar.

Wonwoo is hot on her trail. He picks her up before she can launch herself into your arms. “Dada gave me ice cream,” she looks over her shoulder at Mingyu who is smiling walking towards you.

“I said wait for dinner but Mingyu out voted me.” Wonwoo says. Mingyu is an absolute softie when it comes to his daughter. She has him wrapped around her tiny little finger.

“Daddy said no.” Your daughter pouts.

“Gyu,” you can’t help but laugh.

“It's Hannie’s birthday. I said since it’s her godfather's birthday she could have a treat.”

“I say let the kid have ice cream,” Jeonghan chimes in.

“Fine,” Wonwoo rolls his eyes.

There is something special about seeing the boys be amazing fathers. They love their kids so much, they also love you just as much.

Wonwoo leans in, pressing lips to his daughter's forehead. She pulls back giggling before pressing her lips to her father’s nose. Holding her arms out she reaches for her other father. Mingyu wasted no time taking her from his arms. Mingyu walks her back towards the kitchen to get a napkin.

Wonwoo walks closer to you. He smiles before pressing his lips to your.

“So is there a third one coming at any point? Are we going to play another guessing game of ‘guess who the father is’?” Jeonghan always likes to tease you about the fact you weren’t sure when you were pregnant with your daughter about who the father was.

“Right now we’re good with two? But who knows maybe one day me and Mingyu will play a game called, Who-Can-Knock-Up-Our-Wife-First.” Wonwoo says, earning a laugh from Jeonghan.

“We’re good with two right now.” You respond.

Life has a strange way of working out. Who would have known taking that taking that new job all those years and go to live near Jeonghan would lead you to this perfect life you’re now living.

If you have asked to be tagged I request that you please reblog. If you could leave comments and or tags that would be greatly appreciated.

[mv1simp]

Often ♥️

Mafia!Max Verstappen x Reader

she asked me if I do this everyday, I said often (asked her how many times she rode the wave, not so often)

You’re a hard working, intelligent medical student - at the top of her class. Desperate to pay off your debts, you end up bartending in Monaco’s most exclusive nightclub….and catch the eye of the mafia boss who runs half the city, Max Verstappen. And now that he’s found you, he’s never letting you go.

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut, size kink, dom/sub themes, dark mafia!max, innocent student! reader tryna pay her bills, sugar daddy vibes

It had truly meant to be a one time thing. You’d been strapped for cash, as per usual - stretching yourself thin with your overpriced rent in your tiny one bedroom apartment in a dodgy area, with your utility bills, your parent’s monthly mortgage payments. And of course, the costliest expense of all was your goddamn medical degree. You were in your final year, so close to the end that you could almost taste it.

Maybe that’s what made you say yes to one of the other tutors you work with at your university tutoring job, when she sees you at your second job later than evening tidying up at a local clinic, and then your third the next morning where you hand her a fresh iced coffee you’ve brewed. You know, she says in a hushed tone, leaning in rather conspiratorially. You’re going to work yourself to the bone, with three jobs and putting yourself through med school?

You wave her off with a practised cheerful smile, used to hiding your tiredness from your peers who all thought of you as a model student. But when she persisted, texting you the details of her mysterious cousin who worked at some bar downtown and earned one thousands dollars in a single night…you couldn’t help but being intrigued. You were cautious about it, of course, asking to meet the cousin - Layla - at the coffee shop you worked at. And when she told you about the VIP club, JimmyZ, that she worked at - nothing like those sleazy stripclubs downtown, she hastily reassured, seeing the nervous look on your face. No, JimmyZ was an exclusive club, only for the rich and elite who enjoyed throwing stacks of cash for bags of cocaine and exotic dancers. That’s what Layla called herself, but you still privately think it’s a glorified term for a stripper, as you watch her on stage from your corner in the bar with mixed feelings of awe at how sexy she looks, and discomfort from the sleazy gazes on her.

You’d somehow been talked into helping bartend for a night, Layla having mentioned that you were the perfect girl for the kind of men who came to JimmyZ. At your insulted expression, she giggled, saying that she was trying to saw you had an angelic, natural beauty about you, exactly the kind of authenticity the clientele liked to see instead of the more artificial look found at cheaper clubs. You looked at her skeptically, but still ended up lured in to try and make your rent that month. And after your first night, where you noted impressive amounts of security protecting the gorgeous dancing girls on stage, you felt yourself seduced by the offer of a single night at JimmyZ making up for an entire weeks of your previous job’s earning.

So before you knew it, you’d been working steadily for a couple of months now, finding yourself at a familiar ease behind the bar as you expertly poured drinks and humming the sensual music. You loved the job, with its high pay meaning you had time to focus on your studies again, and last month you’d even topped your class in one of your exams! Of course, it came with its risks - you worked well through the middle of busy weekend nights, many curious and lustful gazes on you from men who enjoyed the skimpy bartender uniform you had to wear. A tight, low cut white button up shirt that showed off your cleavage, and a miniskirt that came dangerously close to flashing someone when you bent over, paired with heeled knee high boots. It was certainly not the type of usual thing you wore, with your conservative full sleeve tops and flattering jeans with scuffed converse that you recycled constantly given your tight budget. But after some adjusting of your long curls hiding your cleavage and avoiding any eye contact skittishly with any man who looked at you too closely, you found yourself falling into an easy rhythm at work.

Until one evening, a Friday night before some big racing event in the city, meaning the club was even more packed that usual with clubgoers overflowing out the entrance and bass thumping down the street. Your boss had found you as you checked in for your late night shift, rapidly saying something about how the owner was visiting tonight and there weren't enough girls for the show, could you help out just this once-

Despite your adamant protests and squeaks that you absolutely could not, would not go on stage, you find yourself shoved into the backstage room to get ready, or risk losing your job permanently, your boss says meanly before storming off. Your lip trembles in anxiety, at the thought of someone recognising you tonight and then seeing you working as a doctor after your graduated. You'd lose your reputation before you could even start your career. You feel lost in the bright makeup room, surrounded by stunning, slim women who had their hair blown own perfectly and makeup done to perfection. You never imagined that you'd have to be up on stage with the beautiful dancers, who you looked so plain standing next too. A few toss you sympathetic looks but are too busy getting ready themselves to help you - until Layla enters and catches sight of your shaking form. She scowls when you tearfully tell her what the boss had said, but gives you a firm pep talk as she quickly helps you get ready. You've barely used any of the dozens of makeup products she has open on the counter, never having had any money to spend on nice clothes or jewellery to spoil yourself with.

But you feel yourself start to settle as she hands you a shot of tequila, then another for confidence, as she guides you through how to navigate the stage, how it was all about faking it till you make it!

You nod determinedly as she coaches you, before quickly getting change into a glittery strappy piece of fabric she hands you, with strappy heels to match. It takes you a few minutes to adjust to the height, but you find yourself being able to walk comfortably in them. When you come out from the side room to show Layla, the rest of the girls in the room stop in their tracks and look at you with renewed interest, yelling out whoops of encouragements about how hot you looked, girl! You flush with the praise, eyeing yourself in the mirror every few minutes as this pretty girl you didn't recognise stared at you. With lush, long curls styled messily, and wide, doe eyed eyes framed in smoky liner and glittery eyeshadow, and full, pouty glossed lips. And your body, which you'd been feeling so insecure about compared to the other dancers, looked undeniably sexy in a shimmery gold minidress that was so short it showed off the swell of your thick ass and chubby thighs invitingly. See, Layla says rather smugly as she comes up behind you. I told you, face of an angel with a body of a dancer. The audience is going to go feral for you.

And she was right, when an hour later and another practise session later, this time with the aid of the other dancers as they critiqued your form, you find yourself on one of the three stages the club had throughout its two levels. If there’s one thing you pride yourself on, it’s being a quick learner. You relax, letting yourself get lost in the music as a sensual song by The Weeknd croons over the speakers. The other girls had told you that dancing could also be fun, empowering, and make you feel in control - and you know understood what they meant as you sway your body enticingly on the stage, running your hands across your tits where your cleavage shows through the low neckline. At least in a club like JimmyZ, which had the reputation of luxury and class to uphold, the dancers wore skimpy outfits but never got fully naked like at a proper stripclub. You made full use of this small mercy, giving teasing flashes of your cleavage and ass but never actually taking your tiny glittery dress off. You could feel dozens of eyes fixed on every movement you made, every toss of your curls, every breathy sigh and bounce of your ass as you let yourself get lost in the beat.

But there's one set of piercing blue eyes that you keep finding your wide eyes returning to curiously. A man you’ve never seen before is seated in one of the VIP lounges a level above and directly in front of your elevated stage. He’s tall and muscular, with messy blonde hair and the most gorgeous eyes you’ve ever seen. And to pull it off, he’s lounging comfortable on a leather sofa, well dressed in a fitted white shirt and jeans, his intense gaze roaming over your dancing body while everyone around him was standing up and hollering towards the dancers on the stage.

He looked like a lion amongst the pack of sheep, and you couldn’t help but bat your lashes in his direction just a bit more as a spark of attraction flutters within you. You've never felt so desirable in your life, and the rush it gives you is addictive. Your show is over before you know it, with enthused yells and demands for an Encore! from the frenzied crowd around your stage as clubgoers migrated to see your show instead of the two others. You giggle coyly, finding this new, confident side of yourself so much more fun than your usual run down, shy one. Stacks of paper notes have been tossed up on your stage and the bouncers dutifully collect it up to bring to you backstage. You blow a kiss into the air for the crowd, but your eyes don’t leave the gorgeous mystery man’s when you do so.

Afterwards, the other girls are laughing and excitedly hugging you backstage, oohing over the stacks of money you’d made and saying you needed to start dancing as a regular at the club, you’d instantly become a favourite! As you giggled their encouragement off, the mood suddenly soured when your boss strode in and said there’s been a request for a private show.

This was the darker, naughtier side of JimmyZ - only offered to the filthy rich VIP clients who could afford the outrageous hourly rate for the prized, beautiful dancers at the club. You’d walked past the closed VIP lounge doors before, your face turning red from the excited moans of male and female pleasure and lewd sounds. It was highly secret, of course, so you’d never known to much about what it fully involved. But you’d have to get to know it tonight, when your boss's finger points past everyone to land on you, to say the request is for our latest dancer, who’s been hiding how much of a natural she is!

Your quickly shake your head, saying you weren’t comfortable with anything more - but your boss says you might want to hear how much he's offering to pay, first. I turned him down, too, saying you weren't one of the regular dancers...but he's very certain he can make it worth your while. When you hear the figure being offered, specifically just for you, your jaw drops. It's enough to pay your shitty rent for two whole months.

You still feel uneasy, because dancing was one thing but to go to a private room was another, and you weren't sure how you felt about using your body for money. In the end, you find yourself curious to go, to get that addictive feeling of desirability and swayed by the security of the income. You’re fully in control, Layla reassures, there’s security in the room the whole time if the client gets touchy. You just have to undress a bit, down to your underwear and give them a show, maybe a lap dance or two. Nothing more than a quick handjob at most, she insists. Then, seeing your face go red as you stammer in response, she pauses to ask that you had done that before, right?

You nod your head quickly, saying yes, of course, I'm 23! You’re too embarrassed to tell her that even though you’re in college, you’ve barely had any sexual experiences and have never had a boyfriend. There was never any time with all the jobs you worked and your full time degree. You’ve had quick, forgettable and sloppy drunk hookups, with uncomfortable fingering that didn’t make you cum or half hearted handjobs at frat parties. You’ve never had sex before, but you know there’s no point freaking out about that now when you’re commited to getting paid tonight. Besides, it was just a quick lap dance probably on some middle aged divorced guy, right?

You can do this, you tell yourself internally, this was nothing compared to dancing in front of hundred of strangers. Maybe this month you’d finally be able to buy some nice dresses and heels to treat yourself with. It can feel good, too Layla had added as she helped you touch up your lip gloss. For your own pleasure, I mean. If you let it, she says with a wink. Remember, you're in control!

When you finally enter the VIP room that night, you're shocked at the man who awaits you. Because it was certainly no sleazy middle aged man. The gorgeous blue eyed blonde from earlier looks up from his conversation at you, his lips quirking up as he sees your golden minidress sparkle in the dim light. You’re too caught off guard to move, but once he dismissed the other men he was talking to with a tilt of his hand, he beckons you over. With a backwards glance to make sure the bouncer stands guard at the door, you take a seat on the comfortable sofa next to him.

It turns out the mystery man isn't just handsome, but friendly, and funny too, with an infectious laugh that makes your heart race. He introduced himself as Max, in a delicious low Dutch accent, and offers you a drink. You politely decline, not wanting to be too disinhibited, but he pours you a glass of expensive whiskey to match the one in his hand anyways. When he asks you for your name, you give him a fake one - but his eyes darken as he tells you he doesn’t think you’re telling him the truth. I’ll call you whatever I want, then, he hums. Schatje seems very fitting for an angel like you. I hope you don’t mind that I asked to see you personally tonight. But the way you danced, I was completely entranced. And then when I saw your pretty face, these big doe eyes...well, I knew I had to meet you. No matter the cost.

You flush under the compliment from such an attractive man, now comfortably sipping on your whiskey. You're the one who's meant to be pleasing him, but it seemed he was more focused on your pleasure. He relaxes you into a surprisingly easy conversation, making you laugh with funny stories about his two house cats. How cute, you say wistfully when he shows you his saved album on his phone. You miss the way his icy eyes hungrily glance down your tempting neckline as you admire the photos, taking advantage of the angle. The tension eases from your stiff form and soon you find yourself leaning in closer to the tall, muscular blonde.

You’re a very charming talker, Max, you say coyly, your newfound confidence emerging as your attraction for him grows. I think you’ve earned your reward. He smirks as you easily climb onto his broad lap, gasping slightly from the feeling of his strong, muscular thighs beneath your soft ones. Soon you’re performing your little routine, giggling and tossing your hair, running wandering hands over yourself, squeezing your juicy tits so they popped in your small hands and make Max’s gaze narrow with desire. Layla had been right. You did feel in complete control, and your pussy throbbed in interest at the gorgeous man whose lap you sat on.

He leans back to appreciate the view and you feel lust cloud your senses from the addicting feeling of those heated blue eyes on you, mixing with the heady feeling from the expensive whiskey he’d offered. And then his fingers are skimming your waist, sending electric sparks shooting from the lightest of touches. You’re not supposed to touch, Max you say with a teasing voice, your playful smile giving away how you really felt. When you untie your dress straps, letting it fall down your waist to show him your chest, barely covered in a see through lacy bra, he lets out a low groan. C’mon, schat, he murmurs huskily. I’m meant to see the prettiest tits in my life and not even kiss them?

You giggle again, running small hands down his shirt as you slowly unbutton him to reveal a muscular, broad chest. He smirks as he watches you bite your lip as your eyes wander all the way down to his blonde happy trail, where your curious fingers have now stopped. What’s the matter, baby, he teases a little twistedly, because he knows exactly what’s stopping you. Never done this before?

You flush, but shake your head adamantly and denying his claim. Of course I have, you say with a defiant look, the competitive nature rising up as you continue to unzip his jeans. He finds your determination so cute, how hard you’re trying to please him, but you give your innocence away with a sudden gasp when his erect cock jumps out of his boxers to rest against his lower abs. It’s so big, you say with a tinge of nerves in your voice at the sight of his drooling, angry red rip. He distracts you with soft kisses to your neck, your cheeks before pressing his lips gently to yours. You can’t resist him either, leaning back in to recapture him in a deeper kiss as you two begin sloppily making out. It’s starting to feel so good, the way his skilled tongue explores your willing mouth, that you eagerly nod when he murmurs he’ll show you how to make him feel good, yeah?

And when his large hand takes yours and presses it right in between his large, spread thighs, he captures your gasps with his lips. He guides your trembling hands over his huge cock, one hand encircling both your palms around him, whispering naughty things in your ear. There you go, sweetheart, right from the tip and then down to the base in a twist, just like that. When you get confident and cutely spit a small glob on his shaft to start pumping him more furiously, he praises you even more. Fuck, you’re a natural, just perfect for me.

You blush under the praise, and together you both watch his cock swell even more with your dedicated handjob. He can’t resist giving you a deep kiss again as he sees the concentrated expression on your face. Doing so good for me, babygirl, Max murmurs as he breaks away for a second, admiring your swollen lips and dazed eyes. Here, let me make you feel good too, hmm?

You squeal in shock as his lips latch right onto your already hard nipples. Ma-Max! No touching, remember! You try to remind him breathlessly. He swirls his tongue around your areolas, one hand still guiding you to jerk him off and his other expertly squeezing and massaging your heaving tits. You very quickly find yourself distracted from his rule break as he spoils your sensitive nipples with attention. So distracted that you stop your handjob, making him pull away again and you whine from the loss of his talented tongue. He resists smirking as you practically push your jiggling tits in his face, your doe eyes begging him for more. I didn’t say you could stop jerking me off, baby, he says in mock disapproval. If you’re not going to be a good girl then you’ll have to say sorry some other way.

You tilt your head in confusion at his statement, when his strong hand tangles into your pretty curls and gently but firmly pushes your head down. Your eyes widen as you realise what he’s asking of you, and you stammer and try to weakly protest. It’s not that you aren’t into this; if anything, Max is the first guy you’ve ever felt such instant chemistry with. No - it’s that this feels so fast, too much too quick for your inexperience and self consciousness. You haven’t even processed just how far he’s planning on taking this and that technically you were selling yourself at some nightclub for his money. Besides, wasn’t there meant to be a guard here to stop the clients going too far? But when you quickly turn your head to look, Max’s hand relaxing briefly to let you peer around, you find yourself only becoming more anxious.

Because there’s no one else in the room.

Where did he go, you say, confused. I don’t understand, I thought he has to keep watch-Schatje, Max murmurs smoothly into your ear. I’m a possessive man. Did you really think I was going to let anyone else get a glimpse of what’s underneath your pretty dress? You gasp, heartbeat now fluttering rapidly from the confession that he’d been so taken with you with one look he wanted you all to himself. You’re half terrified of how much power this man seems to have, and half dizzy with pleasure that he finds you so desirable that he wants to stake his claim. He takes his time working you up again, running hands that were more like a lion’s large paws over your curves while he whispers sweet nothings in your ear, asking if you were ready to be a good girl for him.

A thought plants in your head then, as you nod obediently, and he presses a kiss to your curls to lower your head into his lap again. That Max wasn’t the sweet, gorgeous guy next door type he looked to be. No, this was someone with serious power and money, who apparently controlled the ins and outs of the most luxurious nightclub in the city as if it was his own. And tonight, for whatever reason, he wanted you.

It was just one night, right? You let yourself relax and get lost in the unfamiliar pleasure as you reassure yourself.

This time, your glossy pink lips part easily as you leave curious kitten licks to his cockhead, taking in the salty taste of his precum. He immediately groaned, head tilting back against the sofa as he rasped at you to stop teasing.

You hum in response, sending vibrations through his shaft as you press wet kisses down it. You’re obediently following all the orders he gives to you as he strokes your hair almost gently, licking him up and down. When you finally take him into your mouth, he moans your name in approval, praising how good you were being. But you can barely take half of his length, already feeling your mouth stretch and struggling to breath. Let me take over, baby he says with a dark smirk, and within a second he’s lifted you up and deposited you on the floor, in between his spread legs. You’re trapped by muscular thighs as his grip tightens on you, and then he’s thrusting his hips right to the back of your throat. Fuck yes, there you go, just like that sweetheart, he encourages with a low groan, drowning out your high pitched whines with his jackhammering movements. Mmmh! Obscene, wet sounds of your mouth drooling all over him fills the air, as you choke on the largest cock you’d ever seen. You’re gripping onto him for dear life, your teary eyes making mascara run down your cheeks and only making him more turned on as he ruins your innocent, doe eyed look. And when he cums you don’t expect it, your mouth flooded with unfamiliar white cream that he covers your chubby, blushing cheeks and bouncing tits with as he pulls out mid release and makes a complete mess of your pretty makeup. Heavy pants fill the air as he comes down from his high, looking down at you with raw desire and approval. His thumb swipes his cum off your pouty lips and slides into your lips, smirking when you obediently suck on his finger. You wouldn’t have been able to tell it’s your first time, he teases.

After you clean yourself up in the private bathroom, too embarrassed to look at your positively debauched appearance in the mirror, you find Max signing a cheque that he folds in half that he discreetly leaves on the table. But before he leaves after apologising as he has business to attend to, bending down to your petite frame to give you a sweet kiss, he offers you a deal. To quit your job and be his private dancer, every night…and in turn he’d spoil you with whatever money or gifts your heart desired.

You decline, of course, telling him this was just a one time thing, you weren’t planning on dancing here ever again. He smirks, giving you a final appreciate once over, before declaring that was obvious, he wasn’t going to let another man see you dance like that again.

You don’t see him for a few weeks after that, and it’s almost as if that electric night had never happened at all. Things go back to normal and you resume your bartending job - although you notice that there is significantly more security hovering around your counter than before. But every night Max revisits you in your dreams, making you breathlessly moan from the memory of how good his tongue and hands felt on you, how they might feel inside you next time….you’d always wake up with damp panties.

And then one night everything changes, when a rowdy patron manages to get past the security guards and leer in your face. He remembers you from the dance show and when you try to move away he grabs onto your ass, telling you he wants another sexy performance, he demands with a pervy sneer, I know you secretly liked all the attention, like a slut.

The guards manage to get him off you but you’re shaken with how persistent the man had been. So shaken that you don’t realise the staff have pulled you into a side room until Max is in front of you, asking if you were okay with an intense gaze. He offers you his promise again, to provide for you and protect you - if you became his.

You’re annoyed with him, for just barging in and acting like you were some damsel. You hotly tell him that you're an independent girl, who wasn't going to let him have her in exchange for safety. I can take care of myself! He watched you walk off with a dark gaze, his blue eyes roaming your curves that he was desperate to get underneath him. And whatever Max Verstappen wanted, he always got.

The very next day chills run through your blood as the rowdy patron somehow turns up at your university campus. You quickly hide before he sees you, heart rate spiking as you realise he's found out who you are. Your pride melts away as you dial the number Max's men had put onto your phone despite your protests. Now, you're thankful that they did as a husky Dutch accent picks up. You're a mess on the call, crying and asking Max to please come and help-

I'm on my way, schatje. Go hide somewhere safe. After you hang up you realize you never told him where you were. But it doesn't matter, because the Dutch Lion is there within minutes, stepping out of a sleek black Aston Martin that looks like it costs more than all 5 years of your student debt. Your stalker doesn't stand a chance as he's pushed into a back alley easily by Max, who re-emerges a few moments later discreetly tucking what you're pretty sure is a handgun into his belt. You stare in stunned silence as he gestures to some men who have appeared to clean up whatever mess he left behind, before guiding you with a firm hand on your lower back into his luxurious car.

Still want to turn down what I can offer you, schatje? he murmurs lowly as he smoothly drives you home, his large hand resting on your thigh. And you realise that you don't, because for the first time in your life you don't have to fight tooth and nail to protect yourself. No - because Max had just proved he was willing to do that for you.

So you let yourself be worshipped, be cared for by him. And he knew how skittish you got, and started with baby steps - paying your phone bills, your groceries, and then your rent. Buying whatever handbag or necklace you would happen to briefly admire when walking past a shop, getting you a cute but outrageously expensive car so you stopped taking the train. And you can't lie about how good it feels to walk into class wearing diamond earrings and the Louboutin heels you'd always wanted, to have your mean classmates look at you in awe and envy.

And so when Max insisted that he couldn't let you stay at the dump you called a home any longer, that it was just unsafe for a sweet, precious thing like yourself - you barely resisted and moved into his spacious penthouse apartment. Truly, he gave you whatever you wanted, his toy that he spoils and lavishes however she likes - and at night, lets him climb into her bed to fuck however he wants. And oh, did he fuck you good. It became a habit for you to greet him after his late night meetings with a sweet kiss on the cheek and a gin on the rocks in your hand - which he would drink with you sitting on his lap, telling him animatedly about your day. And of course, he’d get to unwrap his present when he pulls off your silk nightie and widens his legs for you to kneel between them. Dressed in pretty pastel scraps of French lace you buy with his credit card, you’re dutifully slurping and kissing his thick, swollen cock and slapping it against your cheeks. You knew how much Max loved seeing his cum drip down your face and you’d make sure to wear extra eyeliner and lipgloss so he could enjoy the sight of you utterly ruined for him, stroking your mascara tear stained cheeks as you choke on his length. Such a fast learner, schatje Max chuckles at you, stroking your hair almost lovingly but the roughness of his thrusts anything but.

And most of all, you loved when Max would pick you up from class and casually announce that he was taking you away for the weekend. You’d been confused at first, stressed about the study time you were missing out on, but once you sit down in his private jet with you laptop and textbooks in hand you realise you’re truly going to be taken care of in every way. It’s impossible to resist the urge to give back the same to Max, to show him just how much affection you’ve started growing for him. So on those nights in some tropical island resort, with the breeze blowing in through open doors, you give him a free use pass. Whatever he wanted, however he wanted it - all weekend long. It’s to no surprise that you’re chained to the headboard within the hour, thighs tightly tied up around your waist so you’re spread open for him and he could see the wetness dripping through your lace thong. You’re whining, so embarrassed by how intently his heated gaze roams over your body that it’s a relief when he blindfolds you with his tie, and clips a collar around your neck with his initials gleaming from it. He teases you mercilessly, taking you right to the edge with his fingers or tongue but stopping just before you cum, until you’re screaming his name and begging him to fuck you already. And then he takes you for so many rounds that you’re crying for him to stop, it’s too much Maxie, you can’t cum a fourth time-

It’s safe to say you’ve grown into your place by Max’s side very well. You knew what others thought, from the jealous looks from your classmates when his Aston Martin rolls onto campus or the judgemental stares from other vacationers when you obediently sit in Max’s lap while he takes his business calls, dressed in a skimpy bikini and his collar that he absentmindedly traces before moving down to possessively curl his hand on your hip. But you couldn’t care less if they thought you were a trophy girlfriend or a sugar baby - because after all, he was the one wrapped around your pretty little finger, ready to wage a war if you so much as shed a tear.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[self-winding]

Get that "debut" moniker away from your name. Prove you can sell your shit and keep working.

I'd disagree with this part. Being a "debut author" actually works in your favor, marketing-wise. Because you're the shiny, exciting new thing. Past publishing credentials are only a plus if you're a well-known name with a following.

Source: Been published by two Big Five houses. Before I was picked up by an agent I had published a number of novels and novellas (mostly romance/erotica) through a series of digital-only indie publishers. I made some money (albeit not a lot) through these titles, but they did not in any way help me from the angle of getting an agent or being picked up by a publisher, because I wasn't a big name, and because the book that got me an agent was YA so there wasn't much of a crossover readership.

I don't recommend self-publishing unless you have an existing platform (such as a YouTube channel) with a lot of followers. Otherwise it's like firing a t-shirt cannon into outer space, and it's also easy to waste a lot of money on advertising yourself and SEO stuff. There are so many stories of self-published writers spending hundreds or thousands on advertising and getting like, five sales as a result. Like, self-published books do occasionally get popular and go viral but these are extreme statistical outliers. Unfortunately it is just really hard to make money on books these days. Even big publishers kind of suck at it. Many books don't earn out their advances.

I do agree with the part about how important comps are. Agents and editors don't like to take risks, they are mainly trying to jump on existing trends. You ideally want titles from within the last three years to compare to yours. They shouldn't be obscure but they should also not be too big; like, comparing your book to Harry Potter or GoT or LOTR won't get you anywhere. Go to your local library, look at the new stuff, find books that are roughly in the subgenre you are aiming at, books with covers that look sort of how you imagine your cover looking, read them, and if they fit, use them as comps when you query. Say specifically what it is about those books that overlap with yours. i.e. the aesthetic, the setting, themes, etc.

Editing to add: yes, being in the right social circles does help you get published (which is bad for me because I'm a hermit) but I'd argue that knowing the market and the specific market niche you fit into and being able to write a good piece of marketing copy (i.e. your query letter) which displays your understanding of market forces is actually just as important as social status and more important than the "objective quality" of your writing. And while it can be soul-crushing and involve some creative compromises, it is a skill that you can actually learn, one that will concretely impact your chances.

I find it personally offensive how many bad writers can get published so easily.

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Something More

Summary: Bucky Barnes x fe!Reader -> Since you met Bucky, he's always looked at you with...something more. And you never knew why. One day, you finally find out what he means by it.

Disclaimer: mentions of cheating and swearing, revenge on cheating ex. Bucky deals with said cheating ex. Descriptions of naked/slightly naked Bucky though nothing too explicit. Fluff, found family vibes, Sam and Bucky bickering. Use of nicknames (specifically 'doll'). Not Proof Read.

“What are you still doing here?”

Bucky had just passed your lab. As far as he was aware, you should have left work hours ago. You should have been getting ready, listening to whatever playlist you’d compiled with Wanda, picking your outfit with that perfect smile on your face as you looked in your mirror to fix your lipstick. 

So why were you still here?

You looked up, looking for him and where his voice had travelled from. Your gaze found him standing back in the doorway. The lights behind him were dimer than they usually would be. After the clocks turned six in the evening, they did that to save on energy – even then, they’d only come on if they sensed someone. Before he’d walked down the corridor, the only lights on had been inside your lab with you. 

“Oh, hey.” You turned back to your work. “Just wanted to get some things finished before tomorrow. Hoping Tony might give me half a day.”

Bucky felt himself chuckle as he walked inside. “You do the work of three people. If you asked him, he’d tell you to take a week off.”

You chuckled because you knew it to be true. But you also didn’t like taking too much time away from work. You actually liked your job and the people you worked with. Some more than most. 

“But that still doesn’t answer my question. Shouldn’t you be on your date right about now?”

Bucky looked at his watch. 9:20pm. 

“Oh, uh,” You tried your best to avoid his gaze as you looked away from him. “Yeah…yeah, probably.”

Bucky studied you. And you could feel him doing so. The way he stood there, clipboard loose in his hand and by his side, his eyes fixed on your body, noticing how your shoulders tensed, how you tried your best to hide away from him despite you both being the only two in the room. 

“What happened?”

“Nothing. Everything’s fine.”

Bucky shook his head and pulled up one of your rolling stools until he was sitting down and facing you. “What happened?”

“It doesn’t matter-”

“Yes, it does.”

You forced a smile, still not looking at him but rather at whatever contraption you’d pulled apart only to rebuild again. 

“No, it-”

“It does because you never hide anything from me.”

“Mostly because I can’t,” you muttered to yourself but by the soft chuckle from Bucky, he’d heard you. 

“What is it? What’s going on? Why are you still here?”

It took you a moment but eventually you put down the motherboard and finally looked at him. “If I tell you, it doesn’t leave this room. I don’t need the questions and I don’t need a plethora of super-humans marching or flying down to defend my honour.”

He didn’t like where the conversation was heading but Bucky reluctantly agreed. 

“I’m not on the date, but Matthew is.” 

Matthew was your boyfriend of three years. Bucky had met him a handful of times and he seemed nice enough, but there was always something Bucky didn’t like about him. How he talked, how he walked, how he seemingly didn’t realise how lucky he was to have you. 

“What are you-”

With your hands folded in your lap, you continued to explain. “The date that I told Wanda about, the one that was meant to be for tonight?” 

Bucky nodded. 

“Well, what I thought was meant to be a surprise for me was actually…a surprise for my best friend. Ex-best friend,” you corrected yourself. “Matthew didn’t think I would find out, but when I asked him if I should take any days off work soon, he said no. I thought it was just a fluke, but it wasn’t.”

“Y/n-”

“Matthew broke up with me a week later.”

“What?”

You saw the subtle changes in Bucky’s demeanour as you told him. How his gaze and eyes grew darker, how his shoulders became stiff and alert, how his fists clenched on the table. 

You took a breath. “Matthew broke up with me three weeks ago, but I’m okay.”

“Okay? Okay? I’ll kill him.”

You shot out of your seat and rushed ahead of him, stopping him in his tracks. 

“Bucky Bucky, Bucky, stop. Stop, okay. Look, I’m fine. And I promise, I am okay. Guess finding out that your boyfriend has been sleeping with your supposed best friend for six months kinda softens the aftermath of the break-up.”

“Six months?!”

“Just…sit down? Please?”

It took a little longer than a minute, but eventually he sat back down and you picked up the clipboard that had been dropped to the floor and handed it back to him. 

“How can you be okay?”

You smiled, even if it was still a little sad. “Because I’ve dealt with it.”

“How?”

“Poured glitter into their new washing machine, as well as onto all of their clothes,” you admitted. “Stole the plate out of the microwave, took the hand pumps out of the soap, threw out the car wax from his cleaning kit. You know, just small things that will cause them a nuisance for a lifetime.”

Bucky felt himself laugh. “Remind me never to piss you off.”

“Don’t have to,” you smiled. “You know better.”

“Yeah, I do. I’m sorry, Y/n.”

You just shrugged, trying to ignore the sting in your heart. “It’s okay.” 

Bucky’s eyes followed you around the table until you sat back down in your seat. “No, it’s not. I’m sorry he didn’t know how good he had it.”

You looked up at him. “Thanks, Buck.”

“I mean it, Y/n. I know you loved him. He didn’t deserve you.”

You felt his words wash over you and settle into your bones. You’d been dealing with the break up on your own. You knew you didn’t have to, but it was easier. Simpler. But hearing him tell you that…it was worth its weight in gold. 

You tried your best to place that familiar look in his eyes as he looked at you. It wasn’t pity, or sadness. Well, maybe a little. But there was something else there. Something…more. You’d noticed it before but even then you couldn’t have given it a name. It was just…

Something More. 

Like he knew something you didn’t. Like he was trying to tell you something he didn’t have the courage to say out loud. 

“Want me to take you home?”

You shook your head, “No, it’s okay. I can-”

But then he gave you that smile that always made your stomach do a little flip. The way his lips curved in the corner on his mouth, a slightly sassy but genuine look in his eyes. 

“Come on, I’ll take you home.”

With a grateful smile, you smiled and stood up. On the way out, Bucky helped you remove your lab coat before helping put on your actual one. From there, he waited for you to lock up before you finally reached his car and hopped into the passenger seat. 

You’d placed your new address into the car’s GPS and explained to Bucky why you had a new one. 

“Even if she hadn’t moved in, I wouldn’t have wanted to stay there on my own. Knowing everything they’d done together?” You shook your head. “I would have moved, anyway.”

Bucky seemed to adjust himself in his seat, one hand on the wheel as the other rested in between himself and you. 

“Maybe it’s a good thing you didn’t tell the rest of us.”

You chuckled, already knowing what he was thinking. You knew you’d have to tell them eventually. And you would. Preferably in a place where they couldn’t all suddenly disappear on you or wouldn’t see the masked pain behind your expression which would only lead to more questions. 

You’d become friends with the team not long after you’d joined Shield. Tony had studied your work, produced in Shield labs and instantly had given you an offer to work with him on a permanent basis. Before you could finish spending the day thinking about it, you had orders from Hill telling you, you were to become the new resident Lab Tech at the Compound. 

You’d worked along-side Tony and the rest of his science team, fixed equipment for the team and eventually found a friendship with them all individually. 

Wanda had been the first one; she’d been looking for someone to talk to since Clint was out for the day for Training new recruits. The next had been Tony and Natasha and very soon after had been Clint, Bruce and finally Steve.

Steve had been away on back-to-back missions which resulted in him being one of the last. Within a week of him returning, you’d met everyone else since Tony had decided to throw a party. 

You had asked why, but Pepper had just told you that to Tony it was “just because” but she’d worked on a mission plan. Charity Gala. She’s planned the whole thing with Peter’s Aunt. 

It was at that gala that Bucky had first met your boyfriend. At the time, you’d both only been dating eight months. 

“Did you buy a renovation?”

You dug into your bag for your keys but nodded. “Yeah. It’s kinda been a nice distraction.”

“Do you know what you’re doing?”

You looked at him, a little offended. “I’m an engineer.”

“I know.” Bucky was still taking in the property. “I’ve met you. Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

Bucky had seen you build some of the most complicated tech in the world. A handful of times, even Shuri had been shocked and impressed. But he’d also seen you try and build a bookshelf from Ikea on your own. 

“I’ll be fine.”

“I’ve got some weekends free.” Bucky told you. “I’ll help you.”

“You don’t have to-”

“I want to.” 

You were taken slightly aback as you saw the smile on his face. But you smiled back anyway. He’d always had that effect on you. 

“Okay.”

The following six weekends were filled with stripping old paint, pulling out and replacing rotten floors and beams, plastering walls and securing the foundations. The building had been with the bank for almost thirty years. Nobody had ever wanted to buy it. 

You’d guessed it had been built in the forties, or thereabouts. A covered porch had been added on to equal the starting point of the front steps, the shutters on the front windows had either been missing or hanging on by a rotten nail so they were soon replaced. There were three matching windows set at equal distance from each other upstairs. One in the middle and one on either side of it – all facing the front of the home. The garden was overgrown to the point where wildflowers had over run themselves and probably created a new breed. 

The back was much in the same way; a covered porch, windows, shutters, and a larger back garden perfect for an allotment and space for kids or dogs to run around. 

Eventually, those six weeks turned into six months. 

You did what you could within the week and Bucky helped with the rest at the weekends. When Sam found out Bucky was helping, he pitched in, too. Though, he was more helpful when placed away from Bucky and at the other side of the house. That had been something you’d learned quickly. They worked well together but the amount of hours they spent arguing about how to paint…

It was safe to say you’d taped out their own spaces in the house and they were not allowed to cross the tape unless they needed a bathroom break or a snack. 

Wanda had been more than helpful on the days where they’d both decided to sneak past the tape and judge each other's work. 

“Hey, hey, hey, would you- Wanda, put me down.”

“Stay in your tape.”

After the first three months, you were finally able to go out and buy new furniture and return the rented ones. 

“Left a bit, left a bit.”

“We need to go right.”

“No, we need to go left.”

Wanda leaned over to you. “How long have they been like this?”

“Two hours. I have tried.”

You sighed and crossed your arms, watching as Sam and Bucky tried to take your new sofa inside. 

“Right, right. Now go up.”

“Up?”

“Yes, up?”

“What are you gonna do? Make it fly?”

Sam just started at Bucky. 

“Oh, for the love of-”

As you threw your arms into the air, Wanda laughed and started walking towards them. Eventually they dropped the furniture and she moved it herself. It fit through your door simply – just as you had expected before the double comedy act decided to take charge. 

Finally, after six long months of stripping, plastering, painting, repainting, rearranging, building, and everything in between, you were finally done. 

You and Bucky lay on the floor together, staring at the ceiling, your beers sweating with condensation onto the placemats. 

“Thank you for helping me.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“As much as I love my new kitchen, I think I’m just gonna order in. What do you want?”

“Where are you getting it from?”

After twenty minutes, you and Bucky had decided on a place and ordered two pizzas with a side of fries. “Half an hour. Right.” You stood from the floor. “I’m going for a shower. You can hop in after me.”

Bucky was glad your back was turned from him since he could feel the heat spread across him. 

“Why?”

“Because you stink.”

You heard him laugh. Since day one, you’d never held back from telling him what you thought. It was one of the things he loved about you. 

Upstairs, you turned the shower and stepped inside only to watch the dust and paint flakes fall down with the water and into the drain. Twenty minutes later, your hair was washed for the third time that week – white paint from your skirting boards following the suds of the shampoo. 

And then Bucky walked up the stairs. 

As he reached the top of the staircase and turned his head down the hall, he called out your name. 

“Shower’s free! Just getting dressed!”

“Hey, uh, I-I left you something downstairs. Feel free to open it!”

“Really? Okay.”

Bucky smiled before walking into your bathroom and closing the door but leaving it cracked open slightly. The steam was still leaving the room and he couldn’t open the window just yet. 

However, what he didn’t notice as he carefully got undressed was you walking down the hall. Fresh in your pajamas which consisted of an old t-shirt and shorts, you towel dried your hair except in the defogging mirror in your bathroom, you caught a glimpse of Bucky. 

Naked Bucky. 

His back was turned to the mirror, his muscles lightly flexing as he moved to draw back the shower curtain and step into the shower. You tried to ignore the way your heart fluttered in your chest or how your legs unconsciously clamped together as you looked at him. 

But as the curtain was drawn back, hiding him from sight, you took in a small breath before hurrying down the hallway, down the stairs and into the living room. 

You were thankful Bucky was in the shower at that moment in fear of him seeing and knowing what the embarrassed and heated look on your face meant. 

The image you’d just witnessed, it was safe to say, was burning into your mind. 

It was the knock on your front door which startled you out from your daydream about Bucky and the way he-

“Hey, two pep- Matthew.” 

What should have been the pizza guy with your pizzas was your ex. 

“What the fuck?”

“Please, please just hear me out,” he begged. “I am so sorry for what I did. I shouldn’t have slept with your best friend but I thought that was what I wanted. But-”

“Goodbye.”

“Wait! Please!”

His hand landed on the door. “Please. I-I thought that was what I wanted but these months apart have made me realise something.”

“Look, I don’t know how you found me but please leave.”

“I’m still in love with you, Y/n. I always was. And I’m ready for more, if that’s what you want.”

Down the hall, you heard your name being called. But Matthew didn’t. 

“I should never have cheated on you, but I promise I never will again. It was good, right? You loved me? I loved you.”

“Please leave.”

“I will spend everyday making it up to you because I realised, I am worthy of you. Please, just give us a chance. I promise-”

In the space of about three seconds, you saw Matthew’s face change from begging to terrified and shocked at the same time before the door you were holding onto tightly opened wider from behind you. 

Then you found yourself met with a freshly showered, completely naked save for the towel wrapped around his waist, Bucky. You felt the heat spread across your entire body as you tried your best to not make it obvious how you were trying to remember the moment for a lifetime. 

The definition of his muscles, the way his arm flexed as it remained on his hip, the metal arm behind you, holding the door securely. The way the beads of water dripped down his neck and tracked down his body and into the top of the towel. The way his eyes burned with a kind of darkness you’d only ever seen in him when he was ready to attack, but somehow still remained soft when they fell on you. 

“Holy-”

“What are you doing here?” 

“I-I-I came to get Y/n back.”

“Oh, really?”

You felt yourself smile up at Bucky, for more than just the reason he was making your ex crap his pants. 

“Y-Yes. I’m worthy of her.”

“You’re not worthy of shit.”

Matthew tried his best to ignore Bucky as he turned back to you. “Please. Y/n. I’m ready. Just come home with me.”

“I have a home. A new home. Very, very far away from you.”

“How did you even find this place?” Bucky asked. 

Matthew had to look at him and eventually spat out that your ex-best friend had seen your car turn down the avenue a few weeks back when she was heading to work. So, he looked out for it and hoped for the best. 

It was in a sudden motion Bucky’s right arm reached out and held Matthew up by the scruff of his collar. “You’re gonna forget you ever learned this address and leave Y/n alone. Do I have to repeat myself, or are we clear?”

A clearing cough came from somewhere behind Matthew. 

The pizza guy. 

“H-hi? S-Sorry about the wait. They’re working on the road at the top of the street so-so I-I had to double back.Two pepperoni?”

You nodded and the guy told you the price that had been exchanged over the phone. 

“Thanks.”

“I hope you resolve…whatever this is. Bye.”

Hopping back on his pizza scooter, he headed towards his next address. 

Matthew finally looked back at Bucky who’s stare hadn’t left him since he picked him up. 

“I don’t like repeating myself, Matthew.”

“But she still loves me.”

“No, she doesn’t.” 

That much had been made clear to Bucky over the last six months. He watched you put whatever anger and sadness you’d bottled up and put away into how you’d pulled out rotting beams and how you stabbed and yanked dead weeds from the ground with all your might. 

He also saw it in your quiet moments after that. How you built yourself a home without any reminiscence of Matthew or your ex-best friend, how you found freedom and love in what was around you and how you let yourself date again. The dates didn’t last too long but they always ended mutually – not one sided. 

“She does.”

You practically rolled your head with your eyes. “I really don’t.”

Bucky just smirked. 

“B-but what about our life together?”

“The one you torched when you fucked my friend? Yeah,” you heard yourself laugh. “That will never exist.”

As you went to walk away, leaving Bucky to deal with Matthew, he called out. 

“You can’t seriously be fucking him?”

Turning on your heel, you looked at both of them. Bucky seemingly didn’t react. Until a sliver of unrecognisable courage came pouring forward. 

“And what if I am?”

Bucky reacted to that. Not that Matthew noticed. 

“Not that it’s any business of yours,” you added. 

“But-”

“Goodbye, Matthew.”

As you walked into the kitchen and laid out the pizzas, it was a few minutes before you heard a cry from Matthew, followed by a crash of plywood from the skip that was ready to be collected the next day. 

Finally, the door closed and Bucky walked back into the kitchen, towel still around his waist. 

Walking out from your laundry room, you took the last mental image of a practically naked Bucky, standing in your home, looking sun-kissed and all kinds of handsome. 

“You left some clothes here the last time you stayed over.” Standing in front of him, you handed him his clothes. 

“Thanks.”

Taking them from you, Bucky smirked as he caught your gaze scanning his entire body. 

“How are you feeling?”

Your gaze flicked back to his, acting as if you hadn’t just been checking him out, but the heat on your face gave you away. 

“Good.” You smiled. “Actually, really good. Kinda shocked me when it was him and not the pizza guy- thank you, by the way. For dealing with him. I’m sure there’s some speech I should give you about threats of violence but it was nice to see him scared after everything he did.”

“Clearly he didn’t get a new washing machine.” Bucky held up his hand, small flecks of glitter on the palm. You laughed. 

“You can’t escape it.”

Bucky chuckled, too. “Guess you can’t.”

It was in the silence that followed, your hand holding onto his from when you moved it to see the glitter, that you saw that look in his eyes again. That something more look. He’d looked at you like that since the beginning. 

For a while you thought that was just how he looked at people. But you saw the way he looked at Steve and Sam and Natasha and Wanda. You saw the way he looked at strangers on the street as they walked past him, you saw the way he looked at kids when they walked up to him and asked for his autograph, you saw the way he looked at reporters when they asked about the 40s or asked a question he didn’t like. 

You saw the way he looked at everyone else. 

And then there was the way he looked at you. 

Something more.

You felt yourself step forward a little as he dropped his hand and held onto yours. It was a subtle difference. The way he looked at you, the way he held you, the way he spoke to you. 

It was his turn to step closer. 

Carefully placing his clothes down on the kitchen island beside you both, his other hand reached out for you, brushing the hair from your eyes. 

And for a rare moment, you shocked him. Usually, he knew everything with you. It was rare you had to actually tell him something. He spent that long looking at you, it was almost as if his gaze could stare directly into your soul and know what you needed. 

But this. 

This he didn’t see coming. 

No matter how long he’d hoped for it. 

You kissed him. 

And for a moment he was still, feeling your lips against his. Then it was like he was brought back to life. Feeling your hand in his, he squeezed your hand and you squeezed back. Finally, he kissed you back. His hands came to hold your face as he stepped into you, his kiss matching yours. 

In a few turns, your back was against the counter of your kitchen island, your hands sending goosebumps throughout him as they trailed down his chest, sides and held him closer by his neck and back. 

It wasn’t long before he lifted you onto the counter and your legs spread open for him to step closer. Slowly, the kisses peppered away until you were both left gasping for breath, feeling his forehead against yours. 

“Shit.” Bucky eventually breathed, a small laugh escaping him. And you giggled, holding him closer. 

“You better get dressed before you give my new neighbours an exclusive.”

Bucky looked behind him, realising you were both in a semi-clear view of the blind-less windows. They were getting delivered and installed on Monday. For now, you just had curtains and the panels on the windows. 

Then he looked down. The towel was slowly coming loose from his hips. Then he swore for a different reason. 

“You might have to give me a minute.”

It took you a second to realise what he was talking and blushing about. Then you tried to hide your laugh. “Either you put on some shorts or you give my neighbours an original welcome to the neighbourhood.”

Bucky gave you a look before looking around. Finally, grabbing his clothes, he surprised you with a quick kiss to your lips which made you smile and distracted you enough to let him go. Behind your kitchen island, he slipped on his shorts before removing the towel. 

“Thought I might get a show.”

Bucky gave you another look. “I’d rather save that for when it’s just you and me, doll.”

You hummed, your arms coming back to his shoulders. “Fair enough.”

A shorter silence came over you both as Bucky looked at you again. 

“What? What is it?”

You just kept looking. 

“You’re looking at me like I’ve got two heads.”

“You always look at me like that.”

“Like you’ve got two heads?”

You shook your head. “No. Like I’m…something more. I’ve noticed it for a while but I don’t know…why do you look at me like that?”

Bucky just smiled, already knowing what you were talking about. “Because you are something more, doll. You’re more than something more to me.”

You searched his face for what felt like hours, trying to decipher his cryptic message until it finally clicked with you. His message hadn’t been cryptic at all. It had been staring at you, quite literally, for years. 

Bucky watched as the expressions changed on your face; trying to find his meaning, wondering if you’d found the right one, convincing yourself it wasn’t possible, coming back to your original conclusion, accepting it though not fully, hoping it was true, not wanting to embarrass yourself if you were wrong, being certain you were right, and then not, until finally you’d found the courage to ask him if you were. 

And he just smiled. Freely, and without hesitation, he answered. 

“I’m in love with you, Y/n. That’s why you’re more than something more to me.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“You already had someone.” Bucky said, a little defeat in his voice. 

“Had being the key word.” 

He smiled and looked back at you. “I didn’t want to rush things. We…we both needed time.”

Unconsciously, your body moved closer to his touch as his hand traced down your arm before he held onto your hand. Fingers danced around each other before he finally pulled your hand close to his lips and kissed your knuckles, then your palm, and finally your inner wrist. 

Finally, your head touched his. Eyes closed, breaths taking in and let out in sync. 

“I am in love with you, Y/n. I have been for a long time and I don’t wanna rush this.”

You leaned up and looked at him. “Then we won’t. Like you said, we both needed time. And, Bucky?”

He looked at you, again. 

“You’re more than something more to me, too.”

Then he smiled, that genuine if slightly sassy grin. “I know, doll.”

[inbabylontheywept]

I went to summer camp as a kid. Six times, actually. I have many fond memories, and even more terrible ones. Here's one that's a mixture of both.

To set the stage, I had just spent the night in the infirmary due to a big fight I had with almost my entire tent. They never wanted to sleep, and were always obnoxiously loud with a lantern dubbed "the sun" that let me see movement around me with my eyes closed from the shadows passing over it. I was sleep-deprived, overstimulated, autistic-but-unaware-of-that, and twelve years old, and I already disliked these girls because they talked shit about me behind my back and took advantage of naivety. This unfortunate combination lead to a blowout meltdown in which I said some things I regret, so the counselors decided it'd be best if I spent some time away.

Now, this had the unforeseen consequence of putting me in a place with less supervision. This place also had some strange bugs. They were small, about the size of my pinky fingernail. Most of their bodies were in their tails, which curved downwards like a reverse scorpion. They were black and white, sort of striped, with six legs and no wings. Their fangs were very thin, but long, extending out from their faces like brownish parentheses. They had a propensity to bite.

Perhaps you can see where this is going.

While messing around with these bugs, I noticed that when they bit, they didn't just chomp and leave. They sunk their fangs in and they kept them there for a long time. Naturally, I decided to see what would happen if I let them, nay, encouraged them to bite me, as an experiment. When would they extricate their incisors from my flesh? Would my reaction to the bites vary depending on the amount of time each bite lasted?

I let these bugs bite me four times, once for about 13 minutes, once for about 5 minutes, once for about 1 minute, and once for 45 seconds (I didn't have a watch, so these are estimates). Then, I forged a peaceful resolution with my tentmates and we went to watch the beginning of Color War.

Except, turns out it's stupid to let unidentified insects taste your blood. The bites swelled up huge. I got chills. My stomach hurt intensely. My counselor took me back to the infirmary to get them checked out.

Needless to say, this was not easy to explain to the nurse on duty ("WHY" "For science!"). His first thought was we needed to figure out what bit me. If only it were that simple.

We combed through the databases for insects in the state. We expanded our search to arachnids, even, although it certainly wasn't one. I drew a little mock-up on a Post-It to show him. There was not a single match. To this day, I have no idea what it was that I let bite me. I was given orders to come back tomorrow to get them checked by a doctor, and also return every morning and night for a week to put warm compresses and medicinal ointments on the bites, and a strong directive to never do anything like that again, with a side of "What the hell were you thinking????"

A couple of months later, after camp, I went to my friend's bar mitzvah. The woman in the row behind me tapped my shoulder. She asked me how the bug bites were. It was the doctor from the infirmary.

-- @dr-robert-chase-apologist

That was a beautiful ending. I have a similar story, but less gruesome than letting bugs bite me. My family used to go up to trips to the Mogollon Mountains two or three times a year. The woods were where my dad always felt the most at peace.

My dad used that time to hike through the trees. And I grew into that eventually, but when I was very little, I felt a particular kinship to the small things of this world. Worms and beetles and woodlice and those peculiar Arizona grasshopers with wings the size of jellybeans and tummies the size of my thumb.

And on one trip, there was an incredible number of these beautiful, fuzzy caterpillars. Picture below.

I went a little crazy about them. They were fluffy, and they were had pretty colors, and they had the cutest, softest, stubbiest little suction cup feets that I'd ever seen. Watching them climb up stalks of grass or over fallen branches was enchanting.

So I caught, like, twenty of them, and most got put in a little terrarium where I could watch them do cute caterpillar things. Mostly eat fresh pine needles and wriggle gregariously. But some I kept out just to play with. I'd put them on my palm, and I'd watch them crawl all the way up to my neck, then I'd move them somewhere else. They tickled, and I was charmed to be their jungle gym.

But apparently, those little hairs break off like fiberglass, and they have some kind of venom on them, so I had these strange, wriggling, almost tattoo like rashes all over my arms up to my neck. Very embarrassing to explain to my parents.

There was an entomologist on the street that I grew up on named Freddie. And he wasn't just a bug expert, he was specifically a caterpillar expert. He had a garden in his backyard that was specifically tailored for butterflies, he'd always draw in clouds of Monarchs during their migration. My parents asked him about the mysterious itchy caterpillars, and he said they were lophocampa ingens, and that I was lucky that I didn't inhale those hairs. They can stick inside your throat and make it swell closed. Scary little bastards.

I'd still see them after that, but never in such numbers. And while I appreciated them, I always tried to keep a few feet of distance. Just to be safe.

(Also, just wanted to clarify that I didn't remember the name for 20 years, I googled "irticating caterpillar Mogollon", and saw the picture. It wasn't until I read the caption that I was like oh yeaaaaah, that's what he called them. But it was one of those memories I could never have pulled at will.)

[yapperingtinaa]

A box of Gemstones.

Your old Hunter's Watch.

And poor clueless Mephisto.

Three objects placed in the middle of the room, atop a wide red blanket. Three objects with each of its own meaning. And three objects awaiting to be chosen by your innocently curious one-year-old daughter.

"You do realize even if she picks one of these, it doesn't mean it'll eventually determine her future, no?" Sylus mused, eyeing you sitting on the floor across the room from where he sat, his gaze softened at the sight his baby daughter giggling and jumping excitedly in your lap. "Who knows this might end up jinxing us and our daughter became a future Evol Police instead."

"Oh shush you party-pooper." You jested playfully with an eye roll, cooing at your baby daughter sweetly, earning an adorable squeal from the toddler. "There's no harm in indulging in old traditions you know. Even the twins think so too."

As if on cue, both Luke and Kieran whooped in excitement from the living room couch. Both betting which their Mini Boss would choose amongst the three objects on the floor.

"Mini Boss might become a badass hunter like Boss Lady, I bet my life on it she'll pick the Hunter's Watch!"

"Nu-uh! Mini Boss is a baby prodigy! My gut tells me she'd be an awesome engineer by picking good ol' Mephie!"

"And the Gemstones?" Sylus questioned, glancing at the twins with raised eyebrows. "I'm guessing it'll mean she'll succeed my place in Onychinus?"

"Bingo!"

"Right on, Bossman!"

Sylus shook his head with an amused smile, shooting you a look that read 'you believe in this?'

You let out a hearty laugh, shrugging nonchalantly as you gave your baby daughter one last squeezing hug before slowly placing her in front of the three objects.

Despite his neutral expression, Sylus waited with bated breath as his daughter slowly inched forward towards the three objects. His little daughter's eyes shine with an innocent twinkle, her small body crawling forward and for a moment, time still around them.

This tradition, the Zhuazhou ceremony, it shouldn't be this nerve-wracking as Sylus should've expect. But he'd be lying if he wasn't both curious and scared for the future of his precious daughter.

There's no doubt Sylus will support his daughter through whatever she wants for as long as she grows up. Even if one day they might argue on certain value, beliefs and whatnot. But by God, Sylus prayed it would never have to take a turn for the worse where the father and daughter end up against one another.

The thought of that kind of future would filled him with nothing but pure dread.

Multiple surprise gasps pulled Sylus out of his muddle thoughts as he was just in time to see his little daughter pushing the three objects away (whereas a relieved Mephisto flew away in an instant) and crawled towards him.

"Pa! Pa!" His daughter beamed brightly, reaching her chubby arms out to her stunned father. Her giggles echoing through the sudden quiet atmosphere and Sylus instantly picked her up into his arms, his heart swelled with affection when his baby daughter nestled into the warmth of his hold.

Luke and Kieran didn't even have it in themselves to feel disappointed when their Mini Boss didn't pick their chosen items. The heartwarming sight of their fearsome leader becoming such a gentle soul around his daughter made them hold back their tears - It was one of those rare moments where they got to witness their Bossman look so vulnerable, so loving and so.. human.

And it was a moment both of them silently agreed not to ruin, especially for you as the twins watched you quietly tiptoed across the room to sit beside Sylus.

"Looks like our Little Dove can't choose a future without her papa in it." Sylus finally tore his gaze from his daughter at the sound of your voice just as you laid your head on his shoulder. You smiled softly up at the awestruck daze in Sylus's eyes, your finger playfully yet gently poked his cheek. "Now you have one less thing to worry about, my dear."

Sylus blinked in surprise, before letting out a small shaky chuckle. One arm holding his snuggling little daughter while the other arm wrapped around your waist - pulling both you and his daughter closer into his embrace.

"Yeah.. I suppose so." Sylus murmured quietly, a tender smile graced his lips as he pressed a gentle kiss on his little daughter's forehead and then another kiss on your cheek, laughing softly as two of his beloved treasures returned the gesture of the affection tenfold, happy laughter and cheers reverberated in the cozy living room.

Whatever the future may hold, for now, the present moment should be savored more than dwelling on uncertainty.

And at that moment for Sylus, it is what he needed the most.

[pots-sibly]

When I flared so bad in November that I physically couldn't be out of bed for more than like. Two or three minutes at a time. I did a loooooot of doomscrolling, to the point where I felt like I was mentally back in the place I was as a teenager when I had no friends and spent every waking minute on like instagram or something. I caught myself falling into habits I haven't had in years, like compulsively arguing with people online or engaging in content that made me mad or upset. If I was in the same place I was when I was younger, I would've just kept falling into that pit, but I know what it's like now to not feel that way, and I didn't want to go back.

So, I did the most logical thing to me: I went on Amazon and ordered a bunch of yarn and crochet supplies.

I haven't crocheted since I was in the single digits. My grandma tried to teach me, but I was never able to get past the chain stitch. Even so, I remembered absolutely loving it; I'd make chains out of whole balls of yarn and just like, have them in a drawer. I'd do it over and over again because I liked the colours and the repetitive motions. It was soothing to me.

I got a beginner's crochet book and started teaching myself other stitches. I was having really bad brain fog at the time, so I learned slow (and wrong), but I still learned. I made scarves for everyone in my family for Christmas that were way too long and just the same stitch over and over again. I took my yarn and hooks to the emergency room, to get blood work, to urgent care. I made a blanket that covers a double mattress and am hoarding yarn under my bed.

I'm just learning how to make other things, like stuffed animals and granny squares, but honestly I would probably be just as happy to make more mile-long chains. It's extremely calming (so much so that I fainted in the middle of doing a scarf in the ER once) and when I'm doing simple patterns, it's something I can do even with the fatigue and the brain fog. I no longer feel the need to engage with shitty people online or spend hours scrolling and rotting. I've successfully pulled myself out of doomscroll spirals with 'oh shit I need to finish that scarf/blanket/amigumuri'

I used to see posts like this going around and always felt a little defensive because I never really had anything like that. I was always so tired and sick and thought it was a personal failing, so someone being like 'hey maybe you should do something other than scroll instagram reels until you want to die' felt like a personal attack (yes, I was in a bad place). But it's literally so important to have Something like this and I'm so glad that I'm in a place now where I actually do

Most anti phone advice is so inane and regurgitated to me but one thing I’ve been thinking about for days is “social media is okay, but the real danger comes in when you think your phone should be your go to during your limited pockets of leisure” like that’s literally the truest thing ever

[black-fist-order]

BREAKING: Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy breaks his silence on Donald Trump's disastrous Oval Office outburst with stunning grace and class — but refuses to apologize to Trump as demanded by MAGA.

And the best part? He did it on Fox News.

This is what a real world leader sounds like...

"President Trump said after your meeting that you disrespected him and the vice president and all of America in the Oval Office," said Fox News' Bret Baier when Zelenskyy appeared on his show. "Do you think you did? And do you think you owe an apology to President Trump?"

"Thank you so much. First of all, thank you for the invitation, for this dialogue and good evening to all of your country, to all Americans," said Zelenskyy. "I'm very thankful to Americans for all your support. You did a lot. I'm thankful to President Trump and to Congress's bipartisan support and I was always very thankful from all of our people."

"You helped us a lot from the very beginning, here in three years of full scale invasion. You helped us to survive and anyway we are strategic partners," he continued.

"And even in such tough dialogue — and I think we have to be very honest and we have to be very direct to understand each other because it's for us very necessary," said Zelenskyy.

"To President Trump — and with all respect that he wants to finish this war — but nobody wants to finish more than we because we in Ukraine we are in this war, we are in this battle for freedom, for our lives," he went on.

"So I'm just telling that I think we have to be on the same side and I hope that the president on our side together with us and that is very important to stop Putin," continued Zelenskyy. "And I heard from President Trump a lot of times that he will stop the war and I hope he will. And we need to pressure him with Europe, with all the partners."

"And I think this dialogue had to be a little bit earlier to understand where we are," he continued. "Like you know, I don't remember exactly, but like President Reagan said that peace is not just the absence of war."

"Yes, we are speaking about just, lasting peace, about freedom, about justice, about human rights and that's why I said that 'I think so' to ceasefire," he went on. "And you know Putin, he's broken twenty-five times ceasefire during all these years, ten years."

"So I'm not hearing from you Mr. President a thought that you owe the president an apology," said Baier, clearly trying to pander to Trump who was almost certainly watching at home.

"No I respect the president and I respect the American people and if — I don't know, I think that we have to be very open and very honest and I'm not sure that we did something bad," replied Zelenskyy.

"I think maybe somethings we have to discuss out of media, with all respect to democracy and free media but there are things where we have to understand the position of Ukraine and Ukrainians," he added. "And I think that is the most important thing."

"We are partners. We are very close partners. We have to be fair. We have to be very free," said Zelenskyy, sounding far more like an American president than Donald Trump did today.

This is an astonishing display of statesmanship. Rather than give into ego or pettiness, Zelenskyy is rising above Donald Trump's childish bullying to serve his people.

Zelenskyy isn't interested in following Trump down into the gutter. He's interested in securing a lasting peace for his innocent embattled country, a task made all the more difficult by Trump's kowtowing to Vladimir Putin.

Zelenskyy is also correct that these conversations should take place behind closed doors instead of being exploited to create a media circus. Trump and Vance ambushed him in the Oval Office in front of reporters because they knew that it would make headlines and entertain their base.

They are not serious leaders. Zelenskyy is...!

Please like and share!

[solxamber]

Mission: Emotionally Compromised || Jamil Viper

Jamil’s greatest failure as a spy? Falling head over heels for the person he was meant to destroy.

this one is for @chocolatebearstrawberry who made the divider i use here!! i love you <3

As the CEO of one of the most powerful tech companies in the world, you’ve always prided yourself on two things: your razor-sharp business acumen and your ability to sniff out deception from a mile away.

Your competitors, on the other hand, have prided themselves on one thing: trying (and failing) to steal your technology.

For years, you’ve played a high-stakes game of corporate cat and mouse, batting away industrial spies like a bored housecat knocking expensive wine glasses off the counter. You’ve watched billion-dollar corporations sink millions into elaborate heists, only for their agents to fail spectacularly. Frankly, it's getting a little embarrassing for them.

But now, thanks to the untimely departure of your longtime secretary (who swears their early retirement has nothing to do with being bribed into luxury exile), you suddenly have a vacancy.

And judging by the pile of applicants currently waiting in the lobby, every single one of them is a spy.

The Parade of Intelligence Failures™:

First up is Agent Steve (probably not his real name), whose résumé is written in Comic Sans and lists "lockpicking" under "special skills." When you ask him about his previous administrative experience, he stares at you blankly for three full seconds before blurting out, "I can type… very fast?"

Next is Ms. Definitely-Not-Wearing-a-Wire, who keeps touching her ear like she’s communicating with someone. Midway through the interview, you distinctly hear a whisper from her earpiece: "Ask about the security systems."

Then there’s Tech Bro #5, who brings a USB drive and, while maintaining full eye contact with you, tries to plug it into your computer. Your computer. The one sitting on your desk. Right in front of you.

By the time Mr. Fake-ID Falls Out of His Wallet stumbles in, you’re fighting the overwhelming urge to launch yourself out the nearest window.

This is getting pathetic.

You’ve sat through twenty interviews of barely competent corporate espionage, and you’re ready to set up a PowerPoint presentation titled, "How To Spy Without Immediately Getting Caught: A Workshop For Morons."

Do they think you built a billion-dollar empire by being stupid? Do they think your years of fending off corporate espionage haven’t honed your bullshit detector into a finely tuned death laser?

You start debating whether to just hire a golden retriever and call it a day—at least dogs have loyalty.

And then he walks in.

Enter: Jamil Viper.

The moment he steps into your office, you know this one is different.

For one thing, his résumé isn’t riddled with typos or hilariously obvious red flags. His credentials? Flawless. His demeanor? Polished and professional, with just the right amount of charm—not so much that it feels like he’s trying to butter you up, but just enough that you actually want to keep talking to him.

And his entrance exam? He aces it. Perfectly.

Too perfectly.

There is no way in hell that someone this competent just happens to be looking for a secretary position. You know he’s a spy.

But unlike the human disasters before him, Jamil Viper is actually good at his job.

And if someone is going to try and infiltrate your company, wouldn’t you rather it be someone who at least has the decency to be competent about it?

You lean back in your chair, watching him carefully as he sits across from you, his expression unreadable. You wonder how many layers of deception he’s hiding behind that composed facade.

Slowly, a smile creeps onto your lips.

This could be fun.

Because if Jamil Viper thinks he’s going to outmaneuver you, then clearly, no one has warned him that you love playing with fire.

You slide the contract across the desk, extending your hand.

"Congratulations, Mr. Viper," you say, amusement dancing in your voice. "Welcome to the company."

His fingers are warm when they clasp yours in a firm shake. His gaze, sharp and assessing, lingers for just a second too long.

And just like that, you hire a spy to be your personal assistant.

This is either the smartest or the dumbest thing you’ve ever done.

And honestly? You can’t wait to find out which.

Jamil has never questioned his assignments before. His role has always been straightforward—he is given a task, he completes it with precision, and he collects his payment. There is no room for personal involvement, no need for unnecessary complications.

This particular job should have been no different. His directive was clear: infiltrate one of the most formidable tech companies in the industry, assume the role of a secretary, gain the CEO’s trust, retrieve the necessary proprietary data, and exit without raising suspicion.

A simple, methodical process. He estimated it would take no more than a month, perhaps two if the CEO proved particularly cautious.

However, the moment he steps into your office, Jamil recognizes that this assignment will not proceed according to the standard operational model.

You are perceptive. That much is clear from the outset. Your interview questions are sharp, carefully constructed to gauge more than just his administrative skills. You are watching him—not just listening, but studying, assessing. There is a calculating glint in your eyes that suggests you have already categorized him in some way, and he does not yet know whether that categorization is in his favor.

Then comes the moment that shifts the trajectory of his expectations entirely.

You lean back in your chair, fingers steepled as you regard him with an almost amused expression. "So, Mr. Viper," you say, voice laced with something close to mischief, "are you a spy?"

The question is absurd in its directness, yet the casual way you pose it makes it clear that you are not expecting a confession—you are testing him. A lesser operative might have faltered, might have hesitated for the fraction of a second that would betray uncertainty. Jamil, however, meets your gaze evenly, offering a measured smile.

"If I were," he replies smoothly, "would I admit it?"

You laugh—not a dismissive scoff, but an actual, entertained laugh, as if you are thoroughly enjoying this game. And that is what makes Jamil's stomach twist slightly. Because he is beginning to suspect that you already know.

The contract slides across the desk, a silent challenge. He watches as you extend your hand, the motion deliberate, expectant.

He has been in the industry long enough to recognize a trap when he sees one. And yet, despite every internal alarm warning him to be cautious, he shakes your hand.

He has taken on countless assignments in his career, but this time is different.

This time, he is not just infiltrating a company. He is stepping into a game.

And for the first time in his life, Jamil wonders if he is the one being played.

Jamil Viper is, quite frankly, the best thing that has ever happened to you.

You have run this company for years, clawed your way to the top with sheer wit and willpower, and in all that time, you have never known peace. Your life has been a never-ending cycle of fires to put out, idiotic employees making mistakes, and backstabbing business partners who think “compromise” means “stealing your ideas and pretending it was a collaborative effort.”

But then Jamil arrives.

Jamil, with his quiet efficiency and terrifying competence. Jamil, who doesn’t ask you to repeat yourself because he actually listens the first time. Jamil, who doesn’t need reminders because he remembers everything, down to how you like your coffee and which pens mysteriously go missing when your CFO visits.

For the first time in your career, you are leaving work at a reasonable hour.

You actually saw the sunset yesterday. The sunset. Do you know how long it’s been since you’ve seen anything but the dim glow of your office lights at midnight? You don’t. You’re afraid to check.

Your skin? Clear.

Your inbox? Organized.

Your sleep schedule? Still questionable, but at least now it’s due to personal choices and not business emergencies.

You are so overcome with gratitude that you nearly burst into tears when you realize you no longer have to threaten your vendors personally because Jamil handles it all with a few well-placed emails.

He is better than any assistant you have ever had. Possibly better than some of your business partners. Hell, at this rate, you wouldn't be surprised if he could run the company better than you.

Which is exactly why you can’t afford to let him go.

You know why he’s here. You are not naïve. He is undoubtedly a spy, sent to steal your technology, your secrets, your life's work. But the problem is that he is too good. You cannot afford to lose him.

So, you make a decision.

You will convert him to your side.

It’s not just about protecting your company anymore. No, this has become personal. Jamil Viper is yours now. He just doesn’t know it yet.

The numbers didn’t make sense.

You were good at numbers. Numbers were the only thing in this world that didn’t lie. Numbers were solid, unyielding, completely immune to human deception. And yet.

Your CFO had to be skimming. You’d suspected it for a while—no one bought that many first-class flights for “business conferences” that didn’t exist—but now that you finally had the time to actually dig into the company’s finances, you could feel it in your bones. There was money missing. Not a lot at once, just enough that a lazier CEO wouldn’t notice.

But you noticed. And now, sitting in your dark office, practically feral with frustration, you were going to find it.

Jamil peeks into your office, and you see his brows furrow in irritation. He steps inside without invitation, eyes flicking to your desk, to the stacks of papers, to you, hunched over and pulling at your hair like a mad scientist on the brink of discovery.

“…Why are you still here?” His voice is level, but you detect the judgment beneath it. “I made sure your schedule was clear. You should have been home by five.”

You make a vague, distressed sound—somewhere between a whimper and the dying gasp of an overworked CEO. “I have a mouse to hunt,” you say, still frantically flipping through documents. “A very cunning mouse.”

Jamil, to his credit, does not roll his eyes. He does, however, step forward and pluck the file from your grasp before you can protest. His sharp eyes scan the pages, his fingers flipping through them with practiced ease.

You watch as his expression shifts into something thoughtful, his lips pursing slightly, his brows furrowing in deep concentration. You can see his mind working.

Jamil is infuriatingly intelligent. He always has been. You knew it the moment he walked into your office for his interview and answered every question with precision so perfect it was almost suspicious.

But this—this is something else. His eyes flick from one line to another, scanning, calculating, searching.

And then it hits you.

His hair.

His stupidly perfect, annoyingly silky, meticulously styled hair.

The way it’s always just slightly different every day. Some days it’s neater, tied back with care. Some days it’s looser, like he didn’t have time to properly tame it. Some days it’s so perfect it looks effortless, which means it probably took him ages to get it like that.

Your brain connects the dots.

Your CFO’s expenses had fluctuations that made no sense at first glance. But what if—what if the embezzlement wasn’t consistent? What if he only siphoned money on certain days—days when he needed to make the numbers look normal, like a fluctuation in operational costs?

Like how Jamil’s hair was slightly different depending on how rushed he was in the morning.

Your eyes widen. You grab Jamil’s arm.

“It’s the payroll processing days,” you say, the revelation clicking together. “The numbers don’t match on payroll weeks because he’s hiding them within the irregular adjustments! He’s only stealing when payroll is being processed because that’s when the accounts fluctuate naturally.”

Jamil blinks, then looks back at the files, and you see it—the exact moment he finds the irregularity, the way his eyes sharpen, the way the corner of his lips twitch in mild irritation.

“…Huh,” he says, flipping back to double-check.

You beam at him. “Jamil, I could kiss you.”

He does not react, but his ears turn slightly red. He hands the file back. “Don’t. Just fire your CFO.”

“Oh, I will.” You grin, stretching your arms behind your head. “And then I’m going to have so much fun ruining his career.”

Jamil gives you a look. You pretend not to see it.

Jamil has worked for a lot of powerful people before. He’s seen how they act—detached, ruthless, calculating. People who don’t say thank you unless there’s an audience, people who treat loyalty as a transaction rather than a virtue, people who see their employees as numbers on a spreadsheet rather than human beings.

And then there’s you.

You, who smile at every single employee as if they’re the most interesting person in the world.

You, who face betrayals with an easy grin, as if it’s just another puzzle to solve.

You, who refuse to be jaded, as if the sheer weight of your responsibilities isn’t trying to crush you every single day.

Jamil has worked as a secretary before, long enough to know that this is not normal. It’s not normal for a CEO to approve leave requests without question, to cover all medical expenses without a fight, to sit down at the employee cafeteria and listen to people’s grievances like a normal person.

It’s definitely not normal for you to turn to him at the end of a long, grueling day—after uncovering a massive embezzlement scandal in your own company—and say, “Let’s get dinner. My treat.”

Jamil expects a high-end restaurant. The kind of place where the portions are offensively small, the food is questionably pretentious, and the bill alone could sustain an entire household for a month. The kind of place where people like you—people with power, people with money—go to flaunt their superiority.

Instead, you take him to a tiny, hole-in-the-wall restaurant run by an elderly couple who clearly know you on a first-name basis.

“Ah, welcome back!” the old woman greets you warmly, eyes flicking to Jamil with curiosity. “And who’s this? A date?”

Jamil chokes on air.

You laugh—loudly—and wave off the comment. “Nah, just my secretary! He helped me catch a mouse today.”

Jamil doesn’t bother correcting you.

The menu is scrawled in barely legible handwriting on a whiteboard near the counter. You order the greasiest, most artery-clogging meal he’s ever seen in his life. Jamil orders something safer, something that won’t take five years off his lifespan.

When the food arrives, you practically vibrate in your seat, taking a bite with the enthusiasm of a child eating their first piece of candy.

Jamil stares at you in mild horror. “You eat this every day?”

You grin, already halfway through your meal. “Yeah.”

Jamil doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

But he eats. He eats, and he listens to you ramble about ridiculous workplace rumors, and he watches you laugh so hard you snort when you make a terrible joke.

And somewhere in the middle of all that, Jamil finds himself laughing too.

Not because your joke is funny—because it isn’t. It’s awful, actually.

But maybe because your eyes shine too brightly in the dim light.

Maybe because you seem so human right now, so painfully, vividly human.

Maybe because he knows he’ll have to leave you behind soon, and yet here he is, eating unhealthy food and smiling at you.

Jamil has never questioned his jobs before. He gets paid, he gets the work done. Simple.

So why does it feel so different this time?

Jamil has worked for some eccentric people before. Billionaires with more money than sense, CEOs who thought meditation on top of a glass skyscraper would give them divine insight, a director who once insisted that his morning coffee had to be stirred exactly 72 times counterclockwise or the stock market would crash. He’s seen it all. Or so he thought.

And then there was you.

You were a genius, of course. No one could deny that. You had single-handedly revolutionized an entire industry and kept your technology locked down so tightly that even the best corporate spies had walked away empty-handed.

But you were also—how to put this nicely?—completely, utterly unhinged. Eccentric was too mild a word. You were like a mad scientist and a particularly stubborn golden retriever had been fused together in a tragic yet strangely effective laboratory accident.

Jamil has had a front-row seat to your absurdity for months now, but today? Today takes the cake.

He enters the office expecting chaos, but he still isn't prepared to see a bouncy castle taking up the center of the room. It is massive. Garish. A primary-colored monstrosity that clashes violently with the sleek, modern aesthetic of your office. It is also, for some reason, fully inflated.

Jamil watches as you bounce in deep concentration, your tie undone, your shoes discarded somewhere in the corner. Your movements are precise, like each jump is a carefully calibrated equation.

He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Dare I ask?”

You pause mid-bounce, floating for a second in the air like some kind of enlightened acrobat before landing gracefully and turning to him with a grin. “I needed to think.”

“…So naturally, you brought a bouncy castle.”

“Of course.” You wave a hand, as if this should be obvious. “Sometimes, when my brain gets stuck, I just need a little kinetic stimulation. You know, shake up the neurons.” You jump again, flailing slightly before catching yourself. “It’s like—have you ever had a word on the tip of your tongue, and then you do something completely different and suddenly it comes to you? Same concept. Except instead of drinking water or taking a walk, I jump on an inflatable castle like a responsible adult.”

Jamil stares. His headache is already forming. “You’re going to break your neck.”

“Nope! Tested the weight limits. We’re good.” You bounce again, then stop abruptly, eyes widening. Your entire posture shifts, shoulders straightening, expression sharpening. You scramble off the castle, grab a nearby notebook, and start writing furiously.

Jamil watches, baffled, as you tear through an entire page with equations and diagrams, the kind of thing that would take a normal person weeks to conceptualize. And then you stop, beaming like a kid who just cracked open a piñata full of gold.

“I GOT IT,” you declare, spinning the notebook around as if Jamil has the clearance—or the desire—to understand whatever ridiculous breakthrough you just had. “This is going to make everything ten times more efficient! Jamil, this is genius.”

Jamil, who has not slept properly in three days because of this mission, who has already accepted that this job is going to either kill him or make him reconsider every life decision he has ever made, just sighs. “Great. So was the bouncy castle necessary?”

You turn back to him, eyes bright, smile wider than he’s ever seen. “Absolutely.”

And the worst part? The part that truly makes him question if he’s losing his mind?

He almost believes you.

Meetings like this made you wonder if you could get away with legally replacing the entire board with three possums in a trench coat. These relics in overpriced suits had two working brain cells between them, and one was currently occupied with nursing last night’s hangover.

They thought that their decades of mismanaging money somehow gave them wisdom. You would almost find it impressive, the way they clung to their illusion of relevance, if it weren’t so unbearably tedious.

You could fire them all, of course. You could clear this room in five minutes, clean house with a snap of your fingers, but you had held back out of sheer pity. They were close to retirement—one foot in the grave and the other on a luxury cruise.

Let them ride out their last few years clutching their outdated business strategies and egos. It wasn’t like they actually did anything.

But today? Today, you were at your limit.

Jamil was standing behind you, stone-faced, but you could tell he wanted to be anywhere else. His exhaustion mirrored your own. You’d been sitting here for an hour while they droned on about numbers they clearly didn’t understand.

Internally, you begged for something—anything—to spontaneously combust just so you’d have an excuse to leave. A small fire? A sudden, mysterious blackout? A divine intervention from the heavens themselves?

And then, as if the universe had heard you and decided to throw you a different kind of entertainment, one of them made a mistake. A grave mistake.

“—not that it matters to someone like you,” one of the old fossils sneered, voice soaked in condescension. “You just sit there and look pretty. Maybe that’s why you keep your secretary around—eye candy to brighten your day, hm?”

Silence.

Jamil felt the shift before he saw it. The room, which had been filled with the usual underhanded comments and the shuffling of papers, went utterly still. The air thickened, tension snapping tight like a bowstring.

You moved, slow and deliberate, sitting up from your languid position and resting your elbows on the table. Then, with a sharp crack that echoed through the room, you slammed your hand against the polished wood. Jamil was pretty sure he saw the surface splinter.

And then, you smiled.

“Say,” you said, your voice honey-sweet, “how’s your son’s wedding prep going?”

The man blinked, startled by the sudden shift in topic. “Uh—fine?”

“That’s wonderful.” You laced your fingers together, tilting your head like a benevolent ruler addressing a particularly stupid peasant. “I hope he has a strong savings account. And you, too, for that matter.”

His confusion deepened. “Why would—?”

“Because as of right now, every single one of you is fired.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

You stood, straightening your sleeves, your expression as calm as if you’d just commented on the weather. The rest of the board gaped at you, struggling to process what had just happened.

“Pack your things,” you continued, tone still sickeningly pleasant. “Security will escort you out. Your pensions will remain untouched—I’m not a monster—but your presence is no longer required. Effective immediately.”

Then, without waiting for a response, you turned on your heel and strolled out of the room.

Jamil took a moment to savor the stunned expressions, the way the old man who had made the comment looked like he was trying to compute his own downfall in real time. He had seen you be cunning, eccentric, absurd, even, but this was the first time he had seen you wield your power properly. It was—

Well.

He wasn’t about to admit it was impressive.

Or flattering.

Not even as he followed you out the door, suppressing the smallest, most insufferable urge to smile.

You’re good at reading people. That’s what makes you such a good CEO. You can tell when a business partner is about to backstab you. You can spot a bad deal from a mile away. You figured out your CFO was embezzling money based on a hunch and a particularly sleepless night.

So why the hell can’t you figure out what’s going on with Jamil right now?

Your day is over. Your work is done. You’re walking out of the building, feeling suspiciously well-rested for once, because Jamil is the best damn secretary you’ve ever had.

And there he is.

Standing near the exit, very much still here, despite having clocked out hours ago.

You stop. Blink. “Jamil? What are you doing here?”

He startles like you caught him committing a felony.

Which, honestly, makes you even more confused.

Jamil is the picture of composure in any situation. He could talk his way out of a hostage negotiation, probably. He could charm a boardroom full of old, corporate sharks into agreeing with his terms.

And yet, right now, he looks like he wants to evaporate.

You tilt your head. “What’s up? You good?”

Jamil scowls like you’ve offended his ancestors. And then, without meeting your gaze, he thrusts a box at you.

"Eat properly," he grumbles. "Heaven knows you can afford it."

And then he turns on his heel and almost sprints out of the building.

You stare at his retreating figure. Then you stare at the box in your hands.

What just happened.

You consider yourself a genius. You built an empire with your own two hands. You have patents worth billions. You have business rivals who would kill to know what goes on in your head.

And yet, this one interaction has you completely, utterly lost.

It’s only when you get home that you actually open the box.

Inside is a clearly homemade meal. Balanced, nutritious, and suspiciously catered to your exact tastes.

You crouch down. Laugh a little.

And then you pull out your phone.

You: thank you <3

Meanwhile, In Jamil’s car:

He hears the message notification. Opens it. Sees your text.

And immediately slams his forehead into the steering wheel.

The honk that follows is so obnoxiously loud that a street cat outside lets out an ungodly scream and scrambles away like it just witnessed a murder.

Jamil exhales sharply. He grips the wheel like it personally wronged him.

You’re going to be the death of him.

Jamil does not get sick.

It is a fact as ironclad as his ability to keep a secret, as certain as the sun rising in the east and setting behind your ridiculous office where you concoct new ways to stress him out.

Jamil does not get sick because sickness is a weakness—an opening in his otherwise airtight, bulletproof existence.

And yet.

Here he is.

Dying. Absolutely, irredeemably, spectacularly dying.

His body betrays him completely, weighed down by a fever that could probably fry an egg on his forehead. Every muscle aches as if he has been tossed into a meat grinder, his throat is raw, and his head is a battlefield of pain and regret.

He barely manages to lift his phone and call you, the only person who needs to know why he’s breaking protocol and skipping work for the first time in his entire life.

The phone rings. Once. Twice.

And then—

“Jamil! What’s up?”

Too loud. Why are you always so loud? He winces, nearly drops his phone on his face.

“I… I can’t come in today.” His voice is hoarse, unrecognizable. Disgusting. He clears his throat, which only makes it worse. “I’m sick.”

There is a long, stunned silence.

Then, very, very slowly—

“You’re what?”

Jamil closes his eyes. He does not have the strength for this conversation.

“Sick,” he repeats, barely suppressing the urge to just fade out of existence right then and there.

Another pause. Then, in a tone that is so soft he almost doesn’t recognize it coming from you—

“…Oh.”

Something about the way you say it makes his stomach twist—though that could also be the fever.

“Take care of yourself, okay?” you say, genuinely concerned. “Rest, drink water, and if you need anything—”

He does not hear the rest.

Because he blacks out.

Jamil is sick.

Jamil, your unshakable, hyper-competent, borderline immortal assistant—the man who somehow pulls miracles out of thin air while looking vaguely unimpressed—is sick.

You expected betrayals, corporate espionage, elaborate counter-strategies in your ongoing war to get him on your side.

You did not expect this.

And worse—he sounded awful.

Not just tired. Not just mildly inconvenienced.

You sit at your desk for approximately three minutes, trying to convince yourself that it’s fine, that Jamil is a grown man who can take care of himself.

Then you Google “how to care for a sick employee” and make the deeply logical decision to immediately drop everything and go check on him yourself.

Which is how you end up outside his apartment, ringing the doorbell like a maniac.

There is no response.

You ring again. And again.

Nothing.

A small, horrible thought creeps in. What if he passed out? What if he hit his head? What if he—

Just as you're about to kick down the door in a move that would absolutely get you arrested, it creaks open.

And Jamil is standing there.

Barely.

He looks terrible.

His usual sharp, careful composure? Gone. His hair is an absolute wreck, his eyes are dazed, and his entire body is actively betraying him by swaying on his feet like a tragic willow in a storm.

You are horrified.

“Oh my god,” you whisper, stepping forward before he can literally collapse. “Jamil, you look—”

Like death. Like the very concept of suffering incarnate.

But you do not say this out loud, because you are a good person.

Instead, you step into his space and grab him before he keels over.

“You’re burning up,” you mutter, steadying him. “When was the last time you ate?”

Jamil blinks at you very slowly, like his brain is buffering at dial-up speeds.

“…Food?”

That is not an answer.

You curse under your breath and haul him back inside, which is a feat of great strength because he is all lean muscle and fever deadweight.

How did this happen? Why did this happen? Who let this happen?

Oh. Right. Him.

Jamil is going to die.

Not from the fever, no. That would be merciful.

He is going to die from sheer embarrassment because you—his boss, his greatest headache, his most infuriating problem—are here, in his apartment, fussing over him like some kind of divine punishment.

He barely registers you pulling out a thermometer and shoving it into his mouth with all the grace of someone who has never done this before.

The numbers blink back at you ominously.

“You’re burning up,” you mutter. “Okay, I’m ordering soup. And you are not moving until you eat something.”

Jamil tries to protest. He does.

But then you press a cool towel against his forehead, and—

Oh.

Oh, that is nice.

His body betrays him once again by relaxing into your touch.

By the time the soup arrives, he is too weak to even lift the spoon properly.

So you—without hesitation, without a single ounce of normal human shame—just feed him.

Like a child.

Like he is some helpless, pathetic creature.

Which, okay, maybe right now, he is.

But still. This is humiliating.

It is also the best soup he has ever had in his life.

Jamil finally falls back asleep.

And you sit there, staring at his peaceful, fever-flushed face, wondering how the hell this became your life.

You were supposed to be running a company, not playing nurse to your best-paid spy.

You should not care this much.

And yet.

You check his temperature again. Still high, but better.

You sigh, raking a hand through your hair, and grab your phone.

“Okay,” you mutter into the receiver, pacing the room. “But what do I do if he wakes up and refuses to rest?”

A pause.

Your voice drops, quieter. “Yeah, I know. I just don’t want him to push himself again.”

Behind you, Jamil shifts.

You do not notice.

But he notices you.

Your hair is mussed, your usual sharp, teasing grin replaced with something softer.

You look worried. For him.

Jamil stares, something twisting in his chest.

Oh.

Oh, he is so incredibly doomed.

You always knew Jamil was a spy. That much was obvious.

The way he answered every question perfectly in his interview? Suspicious.

The way he executed his tasks with military precision? Suspicious.

The way he didn’t try to subtly flirt with you or brown-nose like all the other incompetent spies before him? Extremely suspicious.

But he was competent. So stupidly, ridiculously competent. And you’d rather keep an enemy that made your life easier than deal with another incompetent fool.

Besides, you like playing with fire. So you decided to see how far you could push him.

So tonight, you left your office unlocked. Oh no. What a terrible mistake. If only someone didn’t sneak in and steal your files.

And to make things more interesting, you left some semi-important files open on your computer. Documents that looked serious enough to be tempting but wouldn’t actually do much damage if leaked.

Right before you left, you made sure to sigh dramatically in front of Jamil and say, “Ugh, these files have been keeping me up at night. I sure hope they don’t get leaked or anything.”

Then, you went to your surveillance setup, made yourself some popcorn, and watched.

Because of course Jamil was going to take the bait.

And sure enough, there he was.

You watch as he sits down at your desk. Silent. Focused. The very picture of efficiency.

You lean forward as he navigates to the files. Click. Click. Scroll. His fingers hover over the copy button.

And then—

He just… stops.

Your eyebrows shoot up. Oh?

Jamil stares at the screen like it personally insulted his honor. His fingers twitch over the keyboard, hesitating.

Your interest piques. He should’ve copied them by now. He’s supposed to be a professional, isn’t he?

He clicks out of the important files.

Your jaw nearly drops. What.

He clicks out. He clicks out. He actively chooses not to take anything of worth.

Instead, you watch as he scrolls past all the confidential reports—

—bypasses all the juicy, corporate secrets—

—ignores all the schematics—

—and copies a single folder labeled “raccoons_for_a_rainy_day.zip.”

You almost choke on your popcorn.

Jamil pauses. Stares at the screen for a long, long moment.

Then, as if committing a terrible crime, he ejects the USB, tucks it away, and swiftly leaves your office.

You sit there, stunned.

Because out of everything in your company’s database, out of all the valuable information he could’ve stolen—

He took your emergency raccoon meme collection.

You blink. Once. Twice.

And then, slowly, a grin spreads across your face.

Oh. Oh, this is delightful.

You knew you were converting him to your side, but this? This is proof.

Jamil, the competent, efficient, dangerously intelligent spy, had a perfect chance to complete his mission. And instead of betraying you, he chose to betray his employer instead.

For you.

How flattering.

You had dealt with a lot of strange things in your life. A lot. But this? This was definitely one of the stupidest.

Your old secretary—the one who took a bribe and fled like a rat from a sinking ship—was currently sitting in front of you, begging for her job back. Why? Who the hell knew. You had been certain that the bribe she took would have lasted her a few years, maybe even bought her a cute little vacation somewhere far away, but apparently, money couldn’t buy wisdom. Or, in her case, common sense.

You leaned back in your chair, fingers steepled together, watching her ramble through increasingly desperate justifications. I’ve changed. I’ve grown. I’ve learned from my mistakes. You doubted it.

Jamil stood beside you, completely unreadable, but you knew him well enough by now to recognize the signs of his barely contained fury. His shoulders were stiff, his posture rigid, and—most damning of all—his fists were clenched so tightly that his knuckles had turned white.

Oh, interesting.

Obviously, you weren’t rehiring her. She wasn’t even ten percent as competent as Jamil, and unlike her, Jamil wasn’t stupid enough to take a bribe when you were the one offering him far more than money. But this? This was a perfect opportunity to test something.

So you sighed, long and dramatic, before rubbing your temples as if this decision physically pained you. “I’ll consider it,” you said finally. “I’ll call you back once I’ve made my decision.”

Her face lit up, all eager gratitude, and she left the office with a bounce in her step.

The moment the door clicked shut behind her, you stood, intending to grab a file from your cabinet—but you didn’t get far.

Because Jamil blocked your path.

You blinked at him, more amused than anything, but your amusement flickered into something softer when you saw his face.

He looked wrecked.

Not in an angry way, not even in a controlled, simmering fury. No—this was something else entirely. His eyes searched yours like he was trying to find some sort of answer, his breath slightly uneven, his expression utterly betrayed. He looked like you had punched him in the gut.

You had seen Jamil irritated, seen him exasperated, seen him indulge in rare moments of smugness when his plans went exactly as intended. But this? This raw emotion spilling out of him like a dam breaking—this was new. And you couldn’t stop the way your heartbeat stuttered at the sight.

“Why?” His voice came out hoarse, like he barely trusted himself to speak. “Why would you… Why would you even consider hiring her back?”

You tilted your head, keeping your voice light. “Why does it bother you so much?”

Jamil’s mouth opened—then snapped shut. You could practically see his thoughts racing, running too fast for him to catch up, but something cracked inside of him, because once he started speaking, he couldn’t stop.

“Did I mess up?” he demanded, voice sharper than he probably intended. “Was I not good enough? Did I do something wrong? Why would you—” He cut himself off, exhaling shakily, his hands twitching at his sides like he desperately wanted to reach for you. “You know she isn’t competent. You know she isn’t better than me.”

You hummed, tilting your head in faux thoughtfulness. “Of course, I’ll give you a different position,” you mused. “No need to worry about job security.”

Jamil broke.

Before you could even register the movement, he grabbed you.

His hands found your face, his fingers curling against your skin like he needed to ground himself, like he needed to prove something—and then, he kissed you.

It wasn’t careful. It wasn’t polite. It was desperate, burning with frustration and something deeper, something so much more vulnerable than you had ever expected from him.

And then, hypothesis proven, you kissed him back.

For a moment, you simply blinked.

Jamil pulls away like he just touched something scalding, his breath uneven, his eyes wide with something close to terror. You watch as realization sets in—his own actions hitting him all at once, like a dam finally bursting and drowning him in the consequences of his own emotions.

“I—” His voice is hoarse, almost shaky, but he’s trying to regain control, trying to salvage something, anything. “I’m not who you think I am.” He says it like a confession, like a last-ditch effort to make you see reason, to make you step back and realize that you shouldn’t want him, that you shouldn’t choose him. “I was hired to—”

“My dear, sweet spy,” you interrupt, voice dripping with amused affection, “won’t you be mine?”

Jamil freezes.

You can see the exact second it dawns on him. The way his expression shifts from confused horror to pure, unfiltered disbelief. You knew. You always knew. Of course you did. He should’ve realized it sooner. You were too sharp, too perceptive, too you to have been in the dark about something so crucial.

And yet, here you were. Choosing him anyway.

His lips twitch. His shoulders shake. And then, he laughs.

Not a small chuckle, not a bitter scoff, but a real laugh, something rare and unguarded, something so genuinely light that it catches even him off guard. He laughs so hard that he nearly doubles over, his forehead dropping against yours as he exhales shakily, trying to regain some semblance of composure.

You feel his breath ghost against your skin, feel the warmth of him so close, and yet, there is no hesitation anymore, no careful, measured distance.

He shakes his head, still breathless from laughing, and when he finally meets your gaze, his expression is something unreadable, something painfully soft.

And this time, when he kisses you, there’s no fear left.

“…Fine,” he murmurs, his voice quieter now, more vulnerable than you’ve ever heard it. “I’m yours.”

You wake up to the warmth of an arm draped over your waist, the steady rise and fall of a familiar chest behind you. It’s a rare thing—to wake before Jamil. He’s always been the early riser between you, slipping out of bed before the sun has even had the chance to settle into the sky. But today, for the first time in two years, you’re the one watching him sleep.

Two years since his terrified confession. Two years since you pulled him into the kind of love neither of you had ever expected to find. Two years of whispered promises, stolen kisses, and a loyalty that runs deeper than any mission, deeper than any past betrayal.

The early morning light filters in through the curtains, soft and golden, catching on the matching rings on your fingers. A quiet proof of what you’ve built together. The sight makes something tender settle in your chest, and you press a kiss to his forehead, gentle and lingering.

Jamil stirs, brow furrowing for just a moment before he instinctively pulls you closer, his grip tightening around your waist. He buries his face into the crook of your neck, voice thick with sleep as he murmurs, “Why’re you awake so early…?”

You smile, carding your fingers through his hair as you whisper, “Go back to sleep.”

And as the warmth of him lulls you back into slumber, a thought drifts lazily through your mind—

"You sleep too," he grumbles, but it’s lazy, half-hearted. You can already feel his breath evening out, his body relaxing against yours once more. You keep stroking his hair, slow and rhythmic, feeling the last bits of tension melt from his frame.

Maybe playing with fire was the smartest move you ever made.

Masterlist

[nerdygirlramblings]

someone's in a rut 🤭 and we meet Ren's family (part 1)

a/n: part of this chapter inspired by Broken Beyond Bearing by @lostintransist and by comments from @pyxrin

cw: poorly executed accents, omegaverse biology, heat/rut cycles

previous

Days begin to blur together. A run followed by infiltration and exfil trainings on the moon (what the others called the rubble-strewn field). Or weight training and asset retrieval in the brick, the windowless building in the hangar, before sparring. Grift work, your own term for information retrieval, before the shooting range. Never the same thing two days in a row. On rare occasions, either Soap or Gaz had you along while training recruits. It was the closest thing to working with your old squad.

And each time, just as you find your footing with the advanced field training, Price introduces new elements: time restraints, 'enemy' combatants. You have never felt as lost before, so unsure of your place. The only thing that keeps it from being completely disheartening isn't Gaz's reassurances or Price's praise or Soap's compliments. It's Adam. It's stopping in to requisition a windcheater in your size and hearing how you made it out of the brick faster than Ghost or how Soap struggled for a long time with grift work. It's confirmation from an outside, and thus unbiased, source that your progress is fine. That they won't regret asking for you.

Until Price calls you into his office. All you can think about is how you didn't know about the standardized step size and the trouble it caused on the moon. Or how you went three rounds without finding the needed intel before Price called time. That Soap teasingly pointed out, "Yer thinkin' tae hard," like saying it will make you get out of your own head even though it's all you know how to do. Crowded pubs and loud, dark clubs flash in your memory, each one a failed attempt to manipulate a mark.

You're sure he's going to put you back into the rank and file. Who needs a woman, and an omega at that, who can't master the basic things the task force needs to do. You're terrified and heartbroken before you even get into his office.

The desk seems more imposing than ever, and Price's face, for the first time, is unreadable. Even his scent is locked down, no dying ember smell wafting around. He's smiling, but you've been taking pseudo acting classes from him for more than a fortnight. The smile could easily hide his intentions.

He clears his throat, and you pull your gaze from where you'd been staring at your hands. For the first time since you met the man, Price seems nervous. He reaches up, scratching his beard and running his hand over his scent gland. "Er, we 'ave some leave coming, me an' the others, and I wan'ed ta see if ya'd like to stay here or go home?"

A long moment passes before you respond. "I'm not sure I understand, sir. You take leave tagether, but I'd go home?" The furrow between your brows deepens. Before he can clarify, you ask what's been eating at you. "Is this yer way 'a transferrin' me off the team?" Even you can hear the plea in your voice. Please don't let me go.

"Oh, Ren, no! No. Tha's not what this is," he rushes to say. The blush that creeps up his neck is a surprise. Is he embarrassed?

"'S just, well, we try not to use suppressants unless we're on a mission. Fucks too much wi' the body's natural rhythm, yeah? Throws off anyone on 'em too long." You nod in understanding. If you didn't have such a bad reaction to them - foggy thoughts and slow movements - you'd prefer to be on suppressants all the time. Instead, when your heart hits, you take yourself to medical for a heat-induced isolation. They're horrendous on the system, but it's a short-term problem while you're in the service, though your omega purrs that a pack would remedy that problem.

"So, er, we made the decision years ago to take our leave together when, er, one of the alphas has a rut." He's fully blushing now, and you get it. He's just told you either he or Ghost - he didn't specify, and betas like Gaz and Soap don't have ruts- is going to lose themselves to their base instincts soon.

You're quiet through all these revelations, and he plows ahead, only the faintest hint of ozone in the air to alert you to his distress. "Simon's rut is in another week or so, so we'll take leave from this Wednesday ta the following Friday ta give everyone a cushion on either end for prep and recovery." The room feels warmer, and you know it's because your own internal temperature is spiking, your omega excited about the idea of Simon's knot.

"So, er, ye'll all be gone, sir?" you clarify, forcing your omega to think of other things.

He nods, a hint of smoke in the air. You can smell his distress dissipating, replaced slowly by ease and contentment. "Yes. We 'ave a place on the edge 'a the Lakes. We'll head there and be back after the rut. Adam said yer dad's due with a litter soon?"

The idea that Adam shared that bit of your family with Price puts you on edge until he adds, "Adam suggested ya take leave when we do but go an' see yer family." He rushes to add, "If ya want."

Now it's your turn to be embarrassed. Once again, it's Adam to the rescue. It warms you down to your center that Adam made such a thoughtful recommendation to Price and that Price took it. If you hadn't heard it yourself, you'd think he was takin' the piss.

"Yes, sir," you stammer, lost at what else you could say to this plan. "That would be lovely. I know my family pack will be happy ta have me home."

next

~~

taglist: @sirbonesly @z-wantstowrite @thriving-n-jiving @cecelia97 @theycallmevalen @boogeysmoth @cryingpages @riley13 @luxylucylou @lucienofthelakes @ilyztwo @chaosundcoffee @lostintransist @thegreyjoyed @honestlymassivetrash @thebumbqueen @maliamaiden

[tqlepatia]

⋆ - 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐎𝐖𝐍 ୭˚. ᵎᵎ

#.ex!toxic sevika, love triangle, mild violence and emotional manipulation

- part one. part two. part three.

Sevika was fuming.

She stalked through the dimly lit streets of Zaun, her jaw clenched so tight it ached. Four days. Four days of stewing in her own anger, of replaying that damn conversation in her head, babette was living in her head now, repeating that damn words, again, again, again and again

"she's busy sevika, with grayson"

Grayson.

Fucking Grayson.

The woman had no damn business being here. She was Piltover through and through, too clean, too proper, too used to getting what she wanted. And what she wanted now, apparently, was you.

Sevika knew it the moment she saw her, standing too close, that infuriating smirk on her face. She had seen the way Grayson watched you, the way she talked to you, how she hears your moans at the other side of the wall of the brothel while she walk in to search another girl, It made Sevika’s blood boil.

So, when she finally found Grayson leaning against the bar in one of Zaun’s more upscale dens, nursing a drink like she belonged there, Sevika didn’t bother with pleasantries.

"You should go back to Piltover, Sheriff," Sevika growled, stepping into Grayson’s space, making it clear she wasn’t in the mood for games. "They have brothels there too, don’t they?"

Grayson chuckled confidently, swirling the amber liquid in her glass. "They do," she said, taking a deliberate sip, her eyes glinting with amusement. "But none of them have her."

Sevika’s fists clenched. She could feel the familiar itch of violence crawling up her spine, urging her to swing, to grab Grayson by that uniform and shove her against the bar. Instead, she exhaled sharply through her nose.

"She doesn’t belong to you," Sevika snarled.

Grayson raised an eyebrow. "No? Funny, because last I checked—" she leaned in, voice dropping low "—she's doesn't belong to you neither, not anymore."

Sevika froze.

That, that, hit deeper than she was willing to admit.

She had known things between you had fallen apart, but to hear it so plainly, from Grayson of all people, made something ugly twist in her gut.

Grayson tilted her head, watching her reaction. "What’s wrong, Sevika? Thought you could ruin her, toss her aside, and no one else would ever want her?" Her lips curved into a slow smirk. "Hate to break it to you, but she's too damn hot to pass up."

Sevika’s patience snapped.

She grabbed Grayson’s collar, dragging her in close, their noses nearly touching. The tension was razor-sharp, the air crackling with the unspoken challenge between them.

"Stay the fuck away from her."

Grayson didn’t flinch. If anything, her smirk widened. "Or what? You gonna lose her again?"

That was the thing about Grayson. She didn’t need to throw a punch to land a hit.

Sevika let go, shoving her back with a sneer. She turned on her heel, stalking away before she did something really stupid.

Grayson’s voice followed her.

"Better move fast, sweetheart." A pause. "Wouldn’t want me to get there first."

Sevika didn’t stop.

Four days had passed since Sevika's encounter with Grayson, but the fury hadn't subsided. If anything, it had only intensified. Her mind kept replaying that moment over and over, each time with a deeper ache. She should have done something more, something to teach Grayson a lesson, but the more she thought about it, the more she realized it wasn’t Grayson she was mad at. It was herself.

She had let you slip away. Her. The one person she had let herself care about in years. And now Grayson, of all people, was circling around you like a fucking lion, and Sevika could do nothing but watch.

It was late afternoon when Sevika found herself on the outskirts of Zaun, heading to the last drop, a frequent place to her. Her fists were still tight at her sides, the weight of her emotions weighing on her chest. She wasn’t sure whether it was the stress of the past few days, or the feeling of helplessness that gnawed at her, but something felt off.

And then she saw it.

A shadow slipped between the drunk mans, and her instincts kicked in. Her hand shot to the side, grabbing the hilt of a knife she always carried.

But when the figure stepped into the dim light, Sevika froze.

It was you.

"Sevika…" Your voice was soft, almost hesitant, but she could feel the tension in the air, the way you were holding back.

Her jaw tightened, eyes narrowing. "What are you doing here?"

You hesitated for a moment, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. "I needed to see you."

Sevika’s heart skipped a beat, her defenses crumbling just a fraction. She hadn't expected this. She hadn't expected you to seek her out.

"What the hell do you want, huh?" Sevika growled, stepping forward to close the space between you. Her anger was still there, simmering under the surface, but now it was laced with confusion. Was it anger at you? At Grayson? At herself?

"I—I need to understand," you said, your voice wavering. "I need to know what happened between us."

Sevika’s eyes flickered away, her gaze hardening. She didn’t want to talk about this, not now. "We don’t need to do this."

But you weren't backing down. "I do." Your voice cracked with a rawness she hadn’t heard before. "I need to know if there’s any chance left. If we can fix this. Can we?"

Sevika’s breath caught. Her heart ached at the vulnerability in your words, but she knew—she knew deep down—that she was too broken for anything between you to be fixed. She was too lost in her own demons to ever give you what you deserved.

But you were still standing there, looking at her like you wanted answers, like you still saw something in her worth saving.

"Please," you whispered, and she almost felt herself melt when you looked at her with those big bambi eyes

Sevika wanted to say so many things. She wanted to tell you that she cared, that she hadn’t meant for things to spiral this way, that she wanted nothing more than to hold you and tell you everything would be okay. But the words wouldn’t come. She was too tangled in her own emotions, too lost in the anger and regret that clouded her mind.

"You’re better off without me," Sevika muttered, stepping back, unwilling to meet your eyes. "You deserve more than this, more than me"

But before you could respond, the sound of footsteps echoed from the shadows. Grayson’s voice cut through the tension like a blade.

"Seems like I got here just in time," she said with that damn smug grin plastered on her face.

Sevika’s heart sank, her fists clenching again, rage bubbling up once more.

"Stay away from her, Grayson," Sevika growled, turning to face the woman she had been avoiding for days.

Grayson held up her hands, feigning innocence. "I’m just here to check on my new… friend." She winked at you, ignoring Sevika’s glare entirely.

You stepped forward, your gaze flickering between them. "I don’t need either of you to fight over me, its fucking stupid and childish."

"Don’t listen to her," Sevika snapped, her anger rising once again, but not at you. Not at the idea of you being with Grayson. At herself, for being too damn dumb to let you slip through her fingers.

But Grayson wasn’t finished. "You know," she said, her voice laced with condescension, "I’m really starting to think you’re just too late, Sevika."

Before Sevika could snap back, you spoke again, your voice quiet but firm. "Enough."

The word hung in the air, heavy with the weight of everything that had been left unsaid.

Grayson raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "You want to tell me what’s going on here?"

But you turned away from both of them, and you're back to Grayson and Sevika. "I’m done," you said softly, your voice barely audible. "I’m done with all of this."

Sevika’s world tilted, her heart falling into the pit of her stomach.

"You can’t just walk away," Sevika said, her voice cracking with the intensity of her frustration. She reached out, but you didn’t turn back.

"I’m not walking away from anyone," you said, your voice filled with pain. "I’m walking away from both of you."

Sevika watched as you disappeared into the shadows, leaving her standing there with nothing but the echo of your words.

For the first time in days, the anger faded, leaving only a hollow emptiness.

And she knew, deep down, that this was the worst thing she could have done.

❝ For the last part, who stays with the reader? And I may change some things later. I hope y'all are feeling well, angels! Xoxo❞

[1d1195]

Buttercup - Extra I

Read Buttercup here ~2.6k words

From me: most of the asks and follow up requests were for showing how in love they are and how Harry' s going to treat her right after she wasn't for so long. Hopefully this will work 💕

Warnings: a little angsty, but fluffy overall. Maybe a little TOO fluffy. Nauseating, if you will. Like eating too many peanut buttercups.

Summary: Moving in next to Harry is one of the best thing that's ever happened to her.

It seemed like it had been raining for weeks. The wind provided an eerie soundtrack to her dreams. The rain sheeting against her window didn’t help either. She wished she had taken Harry’s offer to install a doorbell camera. However, she worried she would stare at it excessively, worried about who could be approaching her house.

Staring at the ceiling she sighed covering her eyes with her palms groaning to herself. The house was too quiet. Of course, she felt safe. It was just the wind and rain adding to her anxious mind. All she needed to do was fall asleep and in the morning everything would be fine. Her phone said it was just after two she still had ample time to sleep before her alarm went off.

Stupid Levi.

She thought she was a pretty independent person. Given that she kept her secret of leaving Levi for a couple months she felt she deserved the title. It took careful planning. Her heart had been in her throat for well over a year prior to her escape.

A little wind and rain shouldn’t have bothered her.

But it did. Every extra sound made it feel like someone was breaking in. They weren’t and she knew it. There was only one person that would try to break in and despite his threat, he hadn’t been back in the months since he showed up unexpectedly.

Two in the morning was too early. It had to be. There had to be a limit. For God’s sake they’d hardly been dating long at all. Swallowing, she put the phone to her ear and sighed as she listened to the quiet ring. One, two, not even three. “’Lo?” He murmured. Clearly, she woke him. Part of her thought she should just hang up and let him sleep. “Buttercup, baby, y’okay?” His voice clearer as she didn’t answer.

Great. Now he’s worried. “Hi,” she whispered.

He chuffed out a breath of laughter. “Hi kitten,” his voice sounded way too good. It should have been illegal to sound that good half asleep. What was the reason? “Y’okay, Buttercup?”

“Yes.”

There was a pause, and she hoped Harry fell back asleep so he wouldn’t worry about her. She could hang up and he wouldn’t even notice. She would tell him he dreamt the whole thing in the morning. “Jus’ wanted t’hear m’voice, then?” He asked.

She sighed heavily. “No...” she shook her head. “Not... no. I woke up and... forget it. I’m sorry. Go back to sleep.”

“Buttercup,” he practically cooed. “Tell me.”

His voice was too soothing. Too enticing. She was pretty sure as independent as she was that if Harry asked or said it, with his pretty voice, she was doomed. He could convince her to rob a bank just by asking. Or quit her job and rub his shoulders all day.

“M’jus’ gonna come over, kitten,” she heard the rustling of his comforter and sheets. The creak of his bedroom door and his quiet footsteps around his house.

“No!” She said quickly, sitting up and pressing a hand to her forehead. “That’s ridiculous, Harry.”

“No, s’not,” he yawned. “S’actually a great idea. This weather keeps waking me up. I need someone t’snuggle with if I want t’save any remainder of m’sleep. I’ll use m’key. See y’in a minute.”

He was gone before she could respond. She threw her covers off and hurried to the front door switching on every light she passed. As she reached the front door, Harry was closing and locking the deadbolt. “Hi, Buttercup,” he grinned, kicking his shoes off. He was soaked from the short walk, the tips of his curls that didn’t stay in his hood dripped on his face. His jacket dripped on her floor (not that she cared). “Let’s go t’bed,” he hung up his coat and pulled her by the hand as he walked back toward her room.

He switched off each light she just turned on, saying nothing about the impromptu visit. In her room he stripped his shirt off making her gulp because even though she had seen Harry many times without a shirt on, he was stunning and made her speechless. He slipped out of his sweats next and all but tossed himself beneath the covers. The poor thing seemed totally exhausted.

“C’mere, kitten,” he mumbled and lifted the covers for her to fall into his arms.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered when she was settled into his embrace. He pulled her in, so she was spooned into his body. He was so warm it was insane. She threaded her fingers between his and tucked his hand beneath her chin. His other hand outstretched below her pillow. His lips were at the back of her head. Softly he pressed kisses along the spot on her neck he could reach.

“What are y’apologizing for, Buttercup?”

“For waking you—”

“Y’didn’t wake me,” he interrupted. She huffed because she knew he was lying. Lying to make her feel better. “S’not a big deal,” he decided after a moment. “Getting t’sleep with you s’a great reward.”

“But you had to go out in the rain and it’s late—”

“M’not gonna melt, baby.” She huffed again, irritation evident in the tone of just her breath. “Talk t’me, kitten.”

“I was scared,” she whispered.

He inched his body closer to hers. It seemed impossible as the heat of his thigh on the back of hers felt like she was suntanning in the tropics. “Scared of what, Buttercup?”

She didn’t answer for a moment. “The weather was just loud I guess, and every little noise bothered—”

“M’sorry,” he mumbled and kissed her skin. “I’ll stay when we have bad weather from now—”

“Harry, that’s not your responsibil—”

“You’re m’girlfriend, Buttercup. S’not a chore or anything. S’what m’supposed to do and more than that, I want t’do it. Sleeping with you is one of m’favorite things,” he explained.

“It’s silly. I’m a grown, independent woman and I shouldn’t need my boyfriend to sleep with me because I’m scared of a little weather.”

There was a long pause. She would have thought Harry had fallen asleep if it wasn’t for the fact that he released her hand to use his fingers to trace the skin on her arm. “Y’not scared of weather, Buttercup,” he whispered. She felt her cheeks warm at his accurate statement. “Y’don’t have t’be brave for me. Y’had t’deal with a really scary thing and frankly I’m scared for you. Not because I think he’s going t’come back, but because I know y’think he might, and it scares you and s’not fair for you t’live like that. S’why I sleep with m’phone on full volume. I would sleep over every night if y’asked. I would love t’do that. Jus’ because y’don’t need a lot from me, doesn’t mean y’can’t ask nor deserve it. Y’can be independent and still need me,” he spoke slowly, his reassuring words felt elongated by the night. She felt her eyes sting with tears. Harry saw her so clearly and easily. He didn’t even have to see her to know he needed her. He was willing to lie to her about her own emotions so she wouldn’t feel embarrassed.

“Can you tell me you love me already so I can say it back?”

He chuckled and twisted her around until she faced him in the dark. He cupped her face stroking his thumbs along her cheeks. “Y’could have said it first at any time, baby.”

“Absolutely not. You would have said something mean if I said it first.”

“Mean? Like what?”

“Like... thank you or something, I don’t know. Some silly prank that would make you laugh.”

He chuckled. “S’a good idea.”

“Exactly. Laugh exactly like that. I’m not saying it first. I don’t care how ridiculous that is.”

He brushed his thumb on her lip and leaned in blindly in the dark to press a gentle, warm, firm, and lovely kiss on her lips. It made her dizzy and she couldn’t believe he liked her so much despite her bad attitude and her stubbornness. “I love you, Buttercup,” he whispered softly, his breath fanning across her face.

She couldn’t believe he loved her.

“Thank you,” she sighed dreamily. He snorted, shook his head, and kissed her forehead. “I love you, too.”

“Go t’sleep, Buttercup,” he murmured and tucked her into his chest. “S’jus’ a little wind and rain.”

She fell asleep before he finished his sentence.

*

When she came home from work, Harry was on her front step. However, he wasn’t waiting for her this time. His attention was fixed right next to the handle of her door. “Hi Buttercup,” he grinned over his shoulder as she approached. “How was your day?” He asked. She stared at him as he continued installing the doorbell camera. “What did y’have for lunch?”

She watched him silently as he worked. “What are you doing?”

He smiled sheepishly. “Nothing, baby,” he shrugged. “Jus’ making sure y’feel safe.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat. Harry made her feel so safe all the time. “How—”

“I should’ve done this when we discussed it the first time,” he shrugged one shoulder and then put the screwdriver he was using in the small toolbox he laid on the porch at his feet. “Can I see your phone?” He asked. She opened the bag on her shoulder and handed off her phone. He unlocked it with her passcode. “Now y’can see,” he put a hand on her lower back. “Y’can adjust the sensitivity. Y’probably don’t need t’know every time a squirrel runs across the porch,” he kissed her temple while the back of her eyes started to sting with the threat of tears. “What do y’want t’do for dinner, Buttercup?” She shrugged and turned toward him. She pressed her face into his chest. “Hey, s’matter, kitten?” He hummed kissing the top of her head. “Hey,” he chuckled. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re so nice,” she sniffled.

“Buttercup,” he sighed and squeezed her tighter. “S’what a boyfriend is supposed t’do. I love taking care of you,” he promised her. “S’normal things t’do for you. S’what y’do when we’re in love.”

“I don’t do anything like this for you.”

“Oh, Buttercup, s’not true...” he frowned. “Y’make dinner, y’rub my back, y’made our garden look so much better than I ever could’ve done. And, not t’mention y’kiss me and let me do naughty things t’your pretty body,” he smiled impishly. “So y’do sweet things all the time.”

“But you make me feel safe and I don’t—”

“Buttercup, your existence makes me feel safe. S’my job t’make y’feel safe.”

“Are you guys making out in front of the doorbell to save for later?” Louis called from the yard. “That’s weird.”

Harry flipped him off and tipped her chin up. “S’a good idea,” he winked and pressed his lips against hers.

“I love you,” she sighed.

“Thank you,” he grinned.

She shoved him and he chuckled, pulling her back to his chest. “I love you so much, Buttercup.”

*

Harry woke up to the smell of something coming from the kitchen. It seemed unlikely that Louis was cooking something because the last time he tried, he thought they were going to need a fire extinguisher. He headed down the hall. “El are y’cooking breakfast?” He yawned rubbing his eye as he did.

“Not quite,” she giggled.

Harry perked up excitedly and quickened the last steps to the kitchen. “Good morning, Buttercup, t’what do I owe the pleasure?” He asked, coming up behind her at the counter. He pressed kisses to the crook of her neck while she worked with the waffle maker. There was an upturned bowl beside her little work station. “This is sweet of you, Buttercup. S’it our anniversary already and I forgot?”

“No,” she smiled. “I just, wanted to do something nice for you.”

“You’re always nice t’me, baby.”

“Well really nice then.”

She pulled the waffle from the iron and placed it under the bowl with three others before putting the bowl back to keep them warm. Harry’s couldn’t stop his hands from roaming her hips and sides. “M’in love with this,” he sighed dreamily. He tucked his face into her neck and wrapped his arms around her waist.

“Me making breakfast?” She laughed.

“S’jus’ nice, Buttercup. I would never expect you t’make me breakfast, but s’jus’ thoughtful. You’re perfect.”

“Do you want something extra? You’re being super complimentary.”

“I love you, kitten. Take the compliments,” he chuckled, his words mumbled and obstructed by the way he pressed his mouth to her skin. She focused on the waffle again and remained quiet for a few moments. Then Harry realized the error of his words. “S’probably hard to take the compliments, hmm?” She shrugged one shoulder but didn’t say anything; confirming exactly what Harry already knew. “Well, s’a good thing I like complimenting you. S’good practice for you t’get used to it,” he peppered her cheek with kisses. “Can I help y’with something?” He asked.

She smiled. “No, I’m just going to put this on the table.”

Harry was so distracted by how pretty she looked in his kitchen early in the morning, making him breakfast, he didn’t even notice how cute the table looked. There were flowers in a vase in the middle. Four plates and sets of silverware set up like they were at a restaurant. There were strawberries, blueberries, chocolate chips, whipped cream, and butter. Orange juice and a tray of four coffees from their favorite shop nearby.

“You’re incredible,” he pulled her away from the waffle iron as she set the last one. He wrapped one arm around her waist, cupped her face with the other and tipped her back to kiss her. Her lips were so soft and so warm. his heart started pounding like he had never kissed anyone before. She tasted so good, sweeter than the yummy waffles they were about to eat. He couldn’t help but smile as he kissed her. He used to love pranking her; the joy he felt was unmatched when he made her grumpy. God, kissing her was triple the dopamine, quadruple the serotonin. It felt almost illegal to be so happy. It spread all through his body.

“Harry,” she giggled against his mouth. “Breakfast.”

“You taste better,” he mumbled not pausing his kisses against her mouth.

“At least taste the waffles before you insult them,” she whispered pulling back slightly while he dotted kisses along her face while she spoke.

He squeezed her tight to his body, tucking his face back into her neck as he did. “Hey Buttercup?” His voice muffled once more by her skin and his reluctance to move from her body.

“Yeah?”

It warmed Harry how easily she answered to the little name. She was lovely. Perfect. The best thing to happen to Harry. While he hated why she had to move into their neighborhood, he was so grateful her pretty self created a home right next door. He pulled back to cup her face, skimmed his thumb on her cheek. “You deserve compliments.”

He didn’t follow it up with anything cute. Didn’t even compliment her afterwards. He wanted it to sink into her brain—even if it only sank in an inch. He would tell her every day. She deserved all the best and Harry was happy to remind her of such and do whatever he needed to make her feel that way.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

He kissed her forehead. “I’ll go get El and Lou.”

“Harry?”

“Hmm?”

“I love you lots.”

“Me too, Buttercup. So much,” he winked heading down the hall.

--

general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @loving-hazz @likeapplejuicenpeach

@straightontilmornin @freedomfireflies @littlenatilda @kathb59 @babegoals

@angel-upon @lilfreakjez @mleestiles @ameliaalvarez06 @canyonmoondreams

@summertime-pills @daphnesutton @l4rrysh0use @perfectywrong @foreverxholland

@lovrave @st-ev-ie @pandeebearstyles @toosarcastic03 @luvonstyles

@tenaciousperfectionvoid @classychalamet @love-letters-to-uranus @emmaawbr @crossyourpeter

@kissinthekitchen @boopookie @indierockgirrl @stylesfever @michellekstyles

@just-another-reader1098 @hermionelove @tiredinwinter @whimsy-willows @hannah9921

@fangirl7060 @triski73 @vikiii07 @prettygurl-2009 @mads3502

@angeldavis777 @tchlamqtsgf @lizsogolden @me-undiscovered @you-sunshine

@rose-girls-world @claimingharrystigertattoo @inlikea-coolway @theseaview @lunaharrygurl @emmie2308 @fruity-harry @somebunnybaby @avas-queen-black @mema10 @tulips4harry @sturnrc @sassamanda77 @ell0ra-br3kk3r @mp-269 @jmp1494 @fangirl509east @sideboobrry11 @drewrry @dutchtheatrelore @copiastricycle @mypolicemanharryyy @harry2121

I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist here

[cherryheairt]

The Line

Viktor x reader slowburn

chapter one

Masterlist

baby Viktor is on my mind today and I wanted to write a childhood friends to lovers trope (my absolute fav because of its softness). Like wdym this kid is just on his own most of the day and his only friend is a deranged scientist GET AWAY FROM HIM. and THEN what do you mean he grows up to also have his only friend/situationship be his lab partner who prioritizes his gf 😭🙏 then I happened upon a small detail that someone pointed out, which was that Viktor (child) always paused before he spoke because he was mentally translating from his native tongue to English.

also, Tyler Joseph you will always be famous (his life action singing of The Line inspired this)

"My body's on the line now

I can't fight this time now"

Years of living in the Undercity had made you grow to expect three certain things. One, that everyone always wanted something from you. Two, that no one is trustworthy. And three, that only you can help yourself.

You considered yourself lucky to have someone to raise you. Not your parents, who either died or left before you could remember, but a woman who was tough as nails and didn't take shit from anybody. Tiff, the name she told you but never quite matched her, worked at Babette's brothel during the night and slept most of the day. This left you sleeping with a knife under your pillow, knowing that you were ever more vulnerable without an adult in the home. During the days while she snored away in the only bed in the studio apartment, you went off to waste the day away. Not being homeless was a fortune you hadn't expected to be granted, especially when Tiff never mentioned any connections to your parents. No debts or favors to be fulfilled, just a child plucked off the damp streets of the lanes.

The best place to be was the river. It was small compared to most, but shallow water was safe water. In the upper part of the lanes, where sunlight actually hit and water wasn't as polluted, many children of the Undercity made it their safe spot to hang out. You came every day to pick up canteens of fresh water from flowing falls between the rock formations. Two canteens every day for you and Tiff to drink until the next. After filling them, you spent the hours Tiff slept observing the children you'd grown up with. You made a point to sit on the sidelines, never mingling with them or making friends. You knew the time might pass faster, but something always prevented you from making the first steps.

Perhaps it was your fears of being an outlier or your penchant for stuttering when you were nervous or excited. Tiff always hated that habit and just waved you off to stop talking entirely. You'd taken to staying quiet unless spoken to first, although you never really talked to many people in the first place. Tiff, the guy down the street, Pato, who made the best and cheapest takeout food, and the occasional visiting coworker of Tiff's who crashed at the apartment. With all the free time you had, you filled it with random hobbies.

First, there was reading. With whatever books you could find lying around, you taught yourself the basics of language. Although you couldn't get far past that, considering Tiff was also never taught how to read as a kid. She comforted you by telling you no one needed it down here. Reading was a topside luxury. You moved on to drawing, which also didn't last very long. Supplies cost money that Tiff was unwilling to spend on wants instead of needs. You used rocks as your utensil and walls as your canvas, stopping only when your hands were dry and bleeding from the grip you had to use on them.

Stealing was your calling, Tiff had told you. With your quietness and keen eyes, you were skilled at sneaking around. After giving up all other options, you tried to help around the house with bills and rent instead. To earn your keep, which you knew wouldn't last forever. You started with pockets, your small size and nimble fingers making it all too easy. Wallets, jewlery, pocketwatches; all made their way from unsuspecting victim's hands and into Tiff's savings. A nice man by the name of Benzo bought whatever valuables you showed him, shaking his head all the while in slight disappointment at your thievery. You moved to the occasional house that had a cracked window or broken door lock. You never took enough to be devastating to the owners, but just enough to make a difference with every person you took from. The guilt quickly went away after the first few times, with Tiff validating that "hey, everyone's got to get by, kid. It'll teach them to keep their shit tighter."

You watched with satisfaction as Tiff was able to work shorter shifts occasionally. Once a week, she would take you past Pato's shop and to a place that served sweet milkshakes. A small delicacy that never failed to make both your and your guardian's mood shine.

Today, you were back at the river. The sun rose lazily from the time you arrived, watching it the entire time while waiting for other kids to file up in the area. The peace and quiet of the morning turned into a rowdy afternoon. It seemed busier than usual, children of all ages splashing around and tossing toys around while boisterously laughing.

Curled up in your space on a batch of rocks, you soaked the sunlight in. Parallel to you, on another raised batch of stones that kids like to stand on and 'fight' over, climbed a girl your age. With tan skin and curly hair, you remembered her as Sky. She tried making friends with you months ago, but your tense silence led her to give up after days of one-sided conversation. Still, you liked seeing her thrive among the rest of the kids. From a distance—like everything else you observed.

Today, another had caught her interest. Peering over the edge, you saw a mess of dark brown hair holding something in his lap like a precious heirloom. Briefly, you wondered if what he guarded would sell for anything good. The two stared at each other for only a few moments before Sky was called away by the group. Hesitantly, she left back over the rocks.

You stayed at the ledge. Inching ever so closer, you squinted to try and peer over his shoulder. While he focused on it and twisted a few metallic gears, you noticed the cane sitting by his side. Handmade, presumably, and likely by himself, judging by the contraption in his hands. When it made a loud 'click!', you startled enough to be thrown out of place. With a yelp, your grip on the rock had loosened, and you fell to the sand in a heap.

Groaning, you raised yourself pathetically to your hands and knees, spitting out sand from your mouth and wiping the rest off your face with the back of your hand. Not very well, from the indents you felt on your cheeks and chin. Glancing over at the boy, you saw him staring at you as if you were a ghost.

More than embarrassed, your face and ears burned stove-hot. Sitting up with scratched up palms and knees, peaks of raised white skin and red mixed together through the grains of sand.

"...Are you alright?" A heavily accented voice asked. Bright amber eyes continued staring down at you, but he made nary a move to assist. In fact, he clutched his thingy, which you now know as a boat, even closer to his torso as if you'd take off with it.

Grimacing, you nodded. Scooting past him to the water, you cupped up some and washed it over your scrape. Wincing at every touch, you cringed at the scolding you were in for at home. Can't run from angry bystanders after an unsuccessful theft.

No, not with your legs burning like this. It would be at least a week before you could be on the streets helping Tiff again.

"Your nose is bleeding." He pointed out from next to you. You jerked your head up, meeting his eyeline. Narrowing your eyes, an annoyance flowed through you. When did he move? Why had you not heard him?

Wiping at your nose roughly, you indeed found red dragging from your hand to wrist. Before you could dunk your head unceremoniously under water, a piece of cloth was thrust in front of your face. Winding back, you were surprised to see the boy merely offering it to you instead of taking advantage of your distracted mind to attack. You didn't carry anything but the water flasks, anyway, but still you stayed cautious.

"Hold your head down, not up." He instructed. Eyeing him, you almost scoffed outwardly at his assuredness, as if you didn't know how to handle a nosebleed. Grabbing the cloth, you cupped it around your nostrils and sat forward. Dizzy, the water in front of you seemed to spin.

He took a moment to adjust himself, slowly sitting next to you with a safe distance. The stream steadily flowed with a calming tune in your ears as time seemed to pass eternally slow. He kept the boat in his lap idly, legs crossed politely to take up less space even in the empty area.

After minutes of silent waiting, you uncovered and held the cloth away. Finding it absolutely unsalvagable, you glanced to the boy apologetically. He shrugged, not moving to take it back. "Keep it. It's only a hankerchief."

Folding it to wet and wipe excess blood from your face, palms, and knees, the sting lingered on, but the pain from tiny pebbles digging into your skin stopped. From your peripherals, you saw him staring. Turning, you raised your brows as if to ask, 'what's your problem?'

Again, he nearly flinched back. "Ah—my name is Viktor." His accent sharpened on the end of his name. It was considerably thick but not entirely foreign to you. Many people congregate in the lanes and hailed from other countries, including those of different languages or species, like Vastayas or Yordles. His mother tongue wasn't one you spoke but instead heard flowing through the markets on a lively afternoon. "What's yours?"

Pursing your lips, you bit your tongue. Unsure if the words might fumble coming out of your mouth, you resigned to write it in shaky letters in the sand grains. It wasn't neat or even, but you at least knew to spell your name and Tiff's in case of emergencies.

Viktor spoke your name aloud, feeling the syllables roll off his tongue in his accent. You nodded once, confirming that he pronounced it correctly. You pointed towards the mechanical boat in his hands, curious to know whether it worked or not, considering how it had only sat lamely in his lap since you first saw him.

He looked down in surprise, remembering he had been working on it the entire morning. "I named it Sunny." He started shyly, cheeks turning pink from the attention on him. "I finished working on her today."

You smiled slightly, urging him to go on. Looking between the boat and the stream, your eyes sparkled with curiousity. He seemed hesitant, perhaps embarrassed at the possibility of the small ship not working. After some careful thinking in his own little space, he finally sat up and wrapped his hand on a little crank, the same that startled you off the ledge.

He winded it a few times, slow and steady. When he popped the lever out and it made a loud 'crick!' Yet again, you held yourself from flinching. Mesmerized, you watched as the boat's winded gears turned the ship's paddles forward. He smiled brightly, tooth gap showing itself from between his lips as he giggled softly. He placed the boat gently into the water, allowing it to row itself downstream. Quickly, he beckoned you up at the same time that he took hold of his cane to lift himself.

You both followed after Sunny. Sand turned to rock and your knees burned as you trailed behind Viktor, always keeping your eyes on the boat as it sped faster than you expected. The water got deeper when the overhead rocks turned into a cave, one that you'd been too fearful to explore alone before. As it sped and the water became more of a current than a stream, you and Viktor had to start into a run.

Unfortunately, due to his leg and needing the cane just to walk, Viktor couldn't keep up. He tripped, yelling out as he fell to the rocks. "Viktor!" You yelled too, surprised at your own concern for the stranger. He was quick to recover, focused on the boat still heading further into the stream. You offered a hand as he used the other for his cane, seeing his ears brighten from what you guessed was embarrassment at the fall.

"We're even now." You mumbled out, quiet voice echoing in the small cave.

He stood taller upright, fixing his gaze between you and the now-dissappeared boat. "You can talk?" He asked, looking frustrated at the loss.

Fighting to urge to bite back a sarcastic response, you sighed and nodded. You had to remind yourself that most might assume you were totally mute or unable to speak for a physical reason, like Viktor had. You might assume the same if you met another like yourself. It was simply easier not to.

"Oh." He deflated, disappointed that you had stopped. "Let's find Sunny. I can't lose it." He turned around, determined to find his special project even in the dark and damp cave. Truthfully, although you often ran around the lanes on your own, the dark still scared you. Huddling closer than acquaintances should, you were nearly clinging to Viktor's arm as he led the way.

If he was bothered by the shoulder-to-shoulder touch, Viktor did not say a word. In fact, you could hear his breaths grow quicker as you decended. He was equally as frightened as you were, but he put on a brave face despite it.

Descending the cave, Sunny continued its drift downstream faster than either of you could keep up. You only heard the mechanical sounds whirring and turning in the internal parts of the machine and the water wheels against the surface. Finally, you heard it stop like it was jammed on something. A dim but frankly pretty purple light came from your destination. When entering another opening of the cave that widened from the narrow entrance, you found yourself in awe of the naturally growing violet flowers on the stone walls.

Flowers or fungus? Either way, they were luminescent and possibly the best thing you'd ever seen in the lanes.

A slithering caught your attention, and Viktor pulled you down to hide behind a jutting stone. You gasped, and Viktor was quick to slap a hand over your mouth regardless of the fact that the man and his large lizard companion definitely knew you were there. You both kept your eyes glued to the pink creature, wondering what it was and if it was aggressive or not. You knew that in a moment of great adrenaline, you could run away from anything, but your new friend could definitely not.

The creature roared, spotting you both huddled together. You clutched his hand tight, squeezing your eyes shut and bracing yourself for an imminent attack.

A voice, not your own or Viktor's, startled you both. "Don't be afraid." Soothing, almost fatherly.

"Did you build this?" It was the man, possibly in his early 30's or so and human, sitting on a rock that was bathed in sunlight from a small opening in the top of the cavern and inspecting Sunny in an impressed way.

Viktor stood up slowly, wary of the pink lizard, but even more curious.

"Why aren't you two playing with the others?" He continued, seeing as neither of you answered verbally.

Viktor stepped out, letting the cane speak for him. The man hummed thoughtfully, running a hand over the mechanisms. "Loneliness is often a byproduct of a gifted mind."

"What—" You swallowed harshly, scolding yourself internally for stuttering in front of both of them, but forced yourself to finish now that their eyes were on you. "What is that?"

"Oh," he started, looking sideways at it as if he'd forgotten it was there. "This is Rio. She is a rare mutation that I cultivated myself." He said, sounding almost somber.

Viktor and you exchanged a glance as the pink lizard named Rio blinked at you both. It was cute, as cute as a beast five times the size of you could possibly be. You'd rarely see pets around the lanes—far too expensive for the normal citizen to keep around.

"Here," he stood, plucking one of the purple flower things from his pocket. "Would you like to feed her?"

Viktor stepped forward first, cane tapping with every small step he took. The flower was tightly clutched in his small hand as he approached the lizard, carefully eyeing her mood to see if the flower or himself might be her meal. To your amusement, Rio eagarly gobbled the flower up and left a string of thick saliva on his arm. You giggled, moving to pet her now that you were sure she was friendly. The lizard purred under your gentle touch, yellow eyes blinking innocently up at you and sniffing for more treats. Viktor joined you as Rio settled down on the rock like the movement exhausted her greatly.

"She's dying." The man said simply. You gasped, protectively stroking behind her ear spikes as if the comfort might protect her from his blunt statement. "I am trying to provent that. The mutation must survive." He said darkly. You disliked his tone, thinking of how ominously he spoke and how detached he viewed the beautiful creature. Like it was an experiment and not a being.

"Can I help?" Viktor spoke up.

He seemed surprised, but smiled slightly at the offer. "You want to assist me?"

Viktor shrugged, but you could tell he was eager to help Rio get better. And possibly just have a friend, even if that friend was an old man in a dimly lit cave.

"And you?" The man's grey eyes found you, still petting the lizard and pretending you were invisible. It was easier that way, to stay in the shadows and be unheard and unseen.

You struggled to find the words for a moment, face hot at your admittance. "I'm not smart, like Viktor is." You glanced to the boy next to you, who seemed to smile and crinkle his wide amber eyes at your words.

The man held a comforting hand on your and Viktor's shoulders. "I'll find a role for you both." He didn't even mention your useless stumbling or give you a nasty look for taking too long to speak. Tiff wouldn't have let you get two words in before rolling her eyes and ignoring you. For some reason, you felt a strong attachment to the strange man.

Happily, you nodded. "I want to help, too!"

Stutters are complicated to write and tedious to write the stereotypical format of "S-s-stutter" which is often not accurate. Based off experience of knowing someone with a chronic (?) stutter, people with a stutter often repeat the entire word until they can move on with the next, which is what I imagined the mc to do. Its not written out but implied for the sake of smooth formatting. Her stutter is neurological and stems from her caretaker not properly taking time to speak with her and teach her language beyond clipped sentences. As mc grows older and more confident, she grows out of it as most children do (though thats not to say people with stutters can simply grow out of it as if its a bad habit, every case is different)

I legit dont even have Netflix anymore but keep started these series (Alice in borderland, squid games, Arcane) that NEED netflix to write scenes from ughhh but its so overpriced for even the Ads version of subscription, so basically this is now a one-shot until I decide to buy Netflix again bc I started this when I had it 😇

[hyperfocusfox]

So don't ask how this has happened but I have ended up as a very not Christian, a very anti-capitalism, very feed the poor, free health care for all, very TRANS disabled person who works at hobby lobby. I have worked here for like ten years now. It's also the only craft store within an hour and a half of where I live. It's located in such a way where we have people drive from three hours away to shop at our store.

I have a unique perspective on the business.

Not only are they unethical in that they have smuggled antiquities. They also are unethical in the way they manage their employees. Just trust me on this one. They constantly INTENTIONALLY obfuscate and keep info/policies away from the employees that are supposed to help employees. This has happened multiple times that I have personally caught and put a stop to. And when policy changes they purposely don't tell employees so they can't adjust accordingly. It's a whole thing. Scummy all around.

And let's say you don't want to get into the ethics of it all. Okay bet. The whole company is shifting its focus AWAY from art and craft supplies without telling their customers. (They want to sell more shitty AI home decor and cookie cutter seasonal items.) The stores now basically only carry their own brand of art supplies for most kinds of art and craft supplies. They have been slowly phasing other reliable and reputable brands out over for maybe a year or two now and I have customers upset and complaining ALL THE TIME. Because the company simply no longer sells any other brands of paints or sketchbooks or any of the specific niche things from reliable brands they have bought here for years and years.

I have personally tested some of the hobby lobby brand products out of curiosity and let me tell you for certain you are better off buying things almost anywhere else. Absolutely bottom tier materials across the board you are better off getting your stuff at Walmart especially for the price. Like this stuff was detrimental to use it made art unfun it was so low quality. And I'm the sort of person who enjoys using shit quality art supplies for life half of the things I do so I don't stress out about it.

Speaking of price they have been raising their prices across the board and phasing out their coupons and weekly sales in a way that is hard to catch as a casual customer. So they are selling much worse products with absolutely no variety for a higher price.

As an artist myself, even with my employee discount, you wouldn't catch me ever buying art supplies from hobby lobby. I buy literally all of my art supplies online now.

you guys know about the hobby lobby smuggling scandal right