#but it is a struggle working out the right order since it was three different but interconnected titles

[thenotoriousscuttlecliff]

Anyone know a good issue by issue reading for post-Crisis Superman comics, specifically the period after Byrne left but before the Triangle era started? Really wish there were big omnibus collections of this era. If only DC wasn't so sluggish with the omnis, we'd probably have everything from The Exile to Death and Return collected by now.

[rafesbabygirlx]

A Lot of Time has Passed | Part 6

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Season 4 Rafe x Maybank reader

Summary: Beginning at the time jump, the Pogues seemingly succeeded at something, Rafe is struggling with making amends and being a better person. JJs sister left the island after returning from South America. Returning after 18 months with a secret.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: smut (fingering, oral, p in v) brief mention of previous parental abuse (Luke vs reader) Ruthie

A few days have passed since Rafe asked you to move in with him, wanting to build a family together. You’re slowly settling into his home, but it still feels unfamiliar—a little too pristine, too luxurious. Even the refrigerator surprises you; you’ve never had one that fully worked. The light in yours at home always flickered, and the freezer had given up back when you were fifteen.

This place doesn’t feel like your home. It’s Rafe’s. You just happen to be living in it. Still, you’re happy. You have a little family now, and seeing Rafe with V brings a warmth that surprises you. He’s matured in a way you always believed he could. Even though he still carries a quiet sadness over his dad, there’s a sense of peace about him—a contentment. You feel a twinge of guilt, thinking about how Ward’s absence has released him from a shadow. Rafe is finally free of it.

He was once the guy constantly tormenting your brother, John B. and Pope, or recklessly sniffing lines off your bare skin behind the rundown shack at beach bonfires. But he was also the one who would drop everything when you’d turn up bruised and bleeding after run-ins with Luke. Even in the middle of a party. He’d insist you stay, taking care of you in ways you’d never thought he could. Now, it feels like you’re getting the version of Rafe you always dreamed about—someone who would stand by you, no matter the differences in your social circles or his friends’ opinions. Even Topper and Kelce, his closest friends, knew better than to tease you, respecting that you were off-limits. Almost everyone seemed to get it—except for one friend who never quite did.

╰☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆╮

Today, the three of you spent the afternoon out by the pool. Rafe ordered lunch, and later, after you finally put V down for the night, hunger crept in again. But Rafe quickly learned that you’d always fuss over V before yourself when it came to eating. You’re in his massive kitchen, cleaning up, when you feel him approach from behind. His arms wrap around your waist, and he leans in, kissing the sensitive spot behind your ear. You tilt your head instinctively, giving him better access, and he smiles against your skin, savoring the invitation. Heat rises in you, and you press your thighs together, feeling your body react.

“Rafe, come on,” you say with a laugh, trying to keep your composure.

“Come on, what?” he murmurs. “You know you feel good, or you wouldn’t be…” His hand slides down, slipping past the fabric of your bikini, and finds the warmth between your thighs. “…this wet, baby.”

You shiver at the sensation, moaning as he explores.

With a teasing grin, you push him back and turn to face him. He closes the space again, trapping you between his arms braced on either side of you. “I was a little annoyed at first, but I like this,” he says, looking at you with that familiar intensity. “Now I get to see your face like this.” He brings his fingers to his mouth, savoring the taste of you. “Mmm, you’ve always been the sweetest girl.”

Before you can respond, his hand finds you again, fingers slipping between your folds, sending a pulse through you that makes you forget about everything else.

Rafe’s fingers continue their soft, circular motion on your clit, adding just the right amount of pressure. He shifts slightly, teasing your entrance, and your knees threaten to give out. In one swift motion, he catches you with a strong arm and spins you around, lifting you effortlessly onto the kitchen island, his fingers never leaving you. You brace yourself on your elbows as he slips two fingers inside, moving them slowly while his other hand continues its steady rhythm on your clit. The only sounds escaping your lips are heavy pants and soft whimpers as your head falls back.

“Oh my god, Rafe…” you gasp.

“I know you like that,” he murmurs, his voice laced with satisfaction. “But how about this?” His fingers begin to pump faster, the rhythm more intense. “Lift your top, baby.” You do as he asks, and he leans over, taking one of your nipples into his mouth. The feeling is overwhelming, his hands and mouth working together, sending you into a daze. The pleasure builds, and you see nothing but white as your body gives in, your elbows buckling as you grip the edge of the counter, knuckles turning white.

Rafe drops to his knees, replacing his hand with his mouth on your clit, sucking with an intensity that makes your eyes water. His fingers quicken inside you, pressing that sweet spot deep within, and you instinctively press a hand to your stomach, trying to ease the mounting pressure.

“Rafe, I’m gonna… oh god, I’m gonna—” Your voice trembles as the sensation builds.

“Come for me, baby. Show me what a good girl you are.” His words and touch push you over the edge, and with a loud scream, you feel the release hit you in waves, leaving your body shuddering, your back arching off the cool countertop. He keeps moving, helping you ride out the full intensity of your orgasm.

When you finally open your eyes, you glance down to find Rafe grinning, his face and chest soaked. You blink, realizing you’d squirted, the intensity of it surprising you both. He chuckles, “That was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. Who knew I’d be waiting almost two years for this?”

You laugh, reaching for a dish towel to hand him.

╰☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆╮

“You know, I was pretty satisfied just making you feel good, but after that…” He lifts you effortlessly again, pulling you close as you wrap your legs around his waist. He strides toward the front of the house, his focus solely on you, and starts heading upstairs, only for the front door to burst open. Startled, you both turn to see Topper, Ruthie, and Kelce standing in the entryway.

“Dinner and drinks are here!” Topper calls, arms loaded with paper bags.

“Topper, shut the hell up before I smack you quiet,” Rafe snaps, glancing upstairs. “My girl’s sleeping.”

“Whoa, sorry, man. Gonna take some time to get used to ‘Rafe The Dad Cameron,’” Topper teases, unable to resist. You’re reminded, for a moment, that being with Rafe also means dealing with his friends. Kelce is easy enough to tolerate, but Topper and Ruthie—with her sly remarks and his tendency toward arrogance—are another story.

You make your way back out to the patio, balancing plates and glasses as you try to push aside the hurt simmering inside. Just as you step through the door, Ruthie’s voice rings out, her words dripping with condescension.

“So, Rafe, you’re really just slumming it with another Pogue because she baby-trapped you?” She smirks, her gaze flicking to you through the glass sliding door with a pointed arrogance, as if daring you to react. Rafe lets out an annoyed sigh, his jaw clenching, but he says nothing, leaving her comment to linger in the air. A dull ache settles in your chest at his silence; you know how his friends can be, but it still stings when no one stands up for you.

Topper, sensing the tension, whispers urgently to Ruthie, “Ruthie, shut the hell up.”

She just shrugs, undeterred. “What, Top? It makes perfect sense. Why else would she be here? So she could live like this—in Rafe’s house. She’s lucky, honestly, that he’d even allow it. She probably just tricked him with the baby. It’s the only way someone like her gets this side of the island.” She laughs, a mocking lilt in her voice.

You take a steadying breath, deciding to let her words pass, at least for tonight. You stride over to the table and drop the plates with a loud thud, watching them clatter but somehow not break. Ruthie spends the next hour weaving insults into her stories, taking every opportunity to throw casual digs at you and where you’re from. The others just ignore her, and not a single person defends you. Finally, you quietly excuse yourself, slipping back inside the house to escape.

Lost in thought, you don’t notice the way Rafe’s anger is building. By the time you’ve left, it’s too late to hear him finally snap.

“Ruthie, do you ever shut the fuck up?” Rafe’s voice cuts through the chatter, low and seething.

She stares at him, stunned. “Excuse me?”

“I said, do you ever shut. the. fuck. up?” He leans forward, eyes locked on hers with a barely restrained fury. “You come into our home—our home—and you think you can talk down to her like that? You don’t know anything about us. We’ve got history, and you’ve been around for all of five minutes. If you think she’s with me for my money, you’re delusional. She never cared about any of that. She never sought out money from me, no matter what she was going through, ever. So why don’t you stop acting like the high-and-mighty spoiled brat you are? We all know the real reason you’re even with Topper, so don’t kid yourself.”

Ruthie’s face turns red as Rafe’s words land, her jaw dropping in shock.

Rafe stands up, his tone brooking no argument. “You’re gonna learn to respect her and my family if you ever want to come around here again. And I think it’s time for all of you to get the fuck out.”

Embarrassed, Topper grabs Ruthie by the arm, practically dragging her toward the door, with Kelce following closely behind, none of them daring to look back. They leave in silence, the house now calm again—but Rafe’s expression is anything but.

╰☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆╮

Rafe quietly enters the bedroom, his heart sinking as he spots you curled up on your side of the bed, your body language shut off. He steps over and kneels down at the edge, his eyes searching your face, noticing the redness around your eyes and cheeks—clear signs that you’ve been crying.

“Baby, I’m sorry,” he says, his voice soft and laced with regret. “You don’t deserve that. You’re… you’re special. Now and always.” His eyes are filled with sadness, and you can tell he’s frustrated with himself, knowing he should’ve said these things with you present.

“It’s okay,” you reply, your voice steady but quiet. “What can you do? It’s just… how it is.” You pause, then reach out, cupping his face with one hand, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your palm. “But… you stood up for me, and that’s all I care about.” He doesn’t realize that your sad tears had turned into happy ones hearing him yell at Ruthie.

He furrows his brows, looking at you with surprise. “You heard?”

You nod, gesturing toward the open patio door. “I heard everything. Thank you.” Sitting up, you move closer to him, cupping his face with both hands. “Please, don’t ever think I’d manipulate you like that. I love you, Rafe. I love being here with you.”

╰☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆╮

His expression softens, and he reaches out, running his hands slowly up your thighs, his touch warm and grounding. “I’d never think that, not in a million years,” he murmurs, his voice thick with sincerity. His hands slide under the oversized shirt you borrowed from him, his palms warm against your skin as he pulls you closer to the edge of the bed. He places his chest on yours drawing you in as he kisses your neck, his lips lingering.

“How about we finish what we started, huh?” he whispers, and you feel a rush of excitement as you run your nails up his back, pressing yourself against him.

With an easy strength, he lifts you, yet again, and plops you back in the middle of the bed, his eyes never leaving yours. He strips off his clothes as you pull his shirt off, leaving you bare and vulnerable, yet completely secure in his presence.

Rafe’s kisses trail up your legs, each one sending tingling warmth through you until he reaches the waistband of your underwear. His fingers hook onto the fabric, pulling it down with agonizing slowness, his gaze locked onto yours the whole time. Once free, he positions himself between your legs, leaning down until your lips crash together in a deep, needy kiss. As the kiss deepens, you reach down to guide him to you, breath hitching in anticipation.

“Eager, are we?” he teases, his voice a low rumble against your mouth.

“Please… I need you… now, Rafe,” you whisper, your voice barely a plea.

His eyes flash, and with a mischievous smirk, he replies, “As you wish, angel.” He thrusts into you in one swift motion, and you gasp, arching into him as the sensation overwhelms you. Unlike his usual intensity, his hips roll slowly, drawing out every pulse, every shiver, his rhythm tender and unhurried, savoring the connection.

It’s blissful, but your body craves more. “Harder, Rafe. Please,” you beg, voice breathy with need.

With a grin, he grants your request, his movements growing rougher and faster. He drives into you, hitting the perfect spot, his hips colliding against you with each thrust, his rhythm sending waves of pleasure through you. You moan, whimpers spilling from your lips as his movements intensify, his body pressing down against yours in a perfect alignment, his pelvic bone brushing deliciously over your clit with every thrust.

His hand reaches up, gently brushing the hair from your face before slipping his thumb to your lips. Instinctively, you take it into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it, and he groans in satisfaction, eyes darkening as he watches you.

Rafe’s eyes are locked onto yours, his gaze intense as he watches the pleasure transform your face. “You take me so well,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. “I wish I never gave you up.”

You let out a soft laugh, still breathless. “Yeah, you’re really stupid for that.” He chuckles with you, the sound warm and familiar, before leaning down to capture your lips again, both of you panting softly into each other’s mouths.

“Rafe… I’m so close, I’m gonna come again,” you gasp, your body tensing as you near the edge. You clench around him, and he lets out a deep, throaty groan in response.

“Come for me, baby. I’m right behind you,” he whispers, his voice rough and low. A few more thrusts, and you unravel beneath him, the waves of pleasure crashing over you as you moan his name. He follows a moment later, his release shuddering through him as he buries himself deep inside you, his warmth filling you completely.

With a satisfied sigh, he collapses onto you, his weight comforting as he peppers gentle kisses along your cheek, lingering as if he never wants the moment to end. You cherish it not believing you’re finally at the point you quietly and secretly always wanted to be with Rafe. In just pure happiness.

╰☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆╮

As the two of you lay tangled together on the bed, your head resting on Rafe’s chest while he brushes his fingers through your hair, he murmurs, “I know it’s a little late, but maybe we can get ready and head out for a bit.”

You look up at him, surprised. “Are we supposed to bring Vivienne along?”

He chuckles. “No, just us. I mentioned Vivienne to Topper’s cousin—she used to babysit Wheezie. I can see if she could come by and watch her for a few hours.”

You hesitate, considering what happened with Topper earlier. “I dunno, Rafe. Maybe I could call Sarah or Cleo instead?”

“Sarah? No way. Let’s just do this,” he insists. You’ve known Topper’s cousin as long as you’ve been with Rafe. She’s the one person who hung out with you at the Kook parties when the other girls looked at you like an outsider.

“Fine. Call her. I’m gonna jump in the shower.”

An hour later, Elaina arrives just as you finish getting ready. You hand her a list of everything she’ll need for Vivienne and say your goodbyes at the door. Rafe helps you into his truck, and you shoot him a look. “I’m serious, no more than two hours.”

“You got it, pretty. Just couldn’t wait to show you off.”

You head to the Island Club for drinks. Standing by a table, you watch Rafe as he orders at the bar. A blonde woman approaches him, placing a hand on his arm and leaning in closer than necessary. You can’t hear their conversation, but your brows furrow at her familiar touch.

When Rafe finally brings your drinks, the blonde is right behind him. “Y/N, this is Hollis Robinson. Hollis, this is Y/N Maybank, my girlfriend and mother of our daughter.” His words catch you off guard; he’d never called you his girlfriend before, let alone in such a grounded way.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N,” Hollis says, smiling. “You’re lucky to have someone like Rafe.”

“I’m the lucky one, believe me.” Rafe glances at you, and you catch the subtle pride in his eyes.

Hollis, however, keeps her gaze on him, lightly touching his arm again. “Well, you two have a good night. I’ll be seeing you, Rafe—hopefully with an answer next time.” She winks and walks away.

As you exhale the breath you didn’t realize you were holding, you turn to Rafe. “So, that’s your partner, huh?”

He smirks. “What, are you jealous?”

“Should I be?”

“Of Miss Cougar?” He grins, rolling his eyes. “Maybe you should be.”

You laugh, shoving him playfully, but he pulls you back in, planting kisses on your temple.

Later, as you sit with Rafe on the dock, watching the water shimmer under the lights of the Island Club, you can’t help but feel excited for more moments like this with him. Yet, in the back of your mind, Hollis and that mysterious deal linger.

Taglist-

@maybankslover @eringaitskill @luissa266 @lolll505 @dayyzlol @calaryssia @eg-dr3amer3 @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @rafestar @bigbonenative @writtenbyhollywood @livie4lifestarkeyblyth @leilanizcals

[wooahaeproductions]

Tracing Time (part one)

Kwon Soonyoung (Hoshi) x Female Reader

Summary: In order to cope with your mother’s death, you decide to study abroad in Rio for the summer just like she did. You come upon the diary she kept during that time, following all that she did 20 years ago. However, you didn't expect finding love would be part of that process.

Genre: fluff, angst, romance, comedy, smut (in part two), strangers to lovers au, neighbors au, college au

Word count: ~4.7k

Warnings: mentions of a family members death and mentions of ways to cope. Part two will have smut and will have it's own warnings.

Rating: 18+ for the completed fic

A/N: It's finally here! I struggled to write this for some reason but hopefully part two will come easier. This fic is for svthub's 2024 World Tour Collab and I am so happy to be apart of another collab. Please check out all the other amazing works as well! I also want to thank my beta readers Summer @beomcoups and Kiki @nonuify 🥰~Maren

You took a deep breath as you stopped in front of the student housing building and started at its gorgeous architecture before pulling an old photo from the front pocket of your bag. You held it out in front of you, confirming this was the building the smiling woman in the photo was standing in front of. You were here, standing in the same spot your mother had at your age when she studied at the very same summer exchange program in Brazil that you were going to.

You slipped the photo back into your bag and took one more big breath before bringing yourself and your luggage into the lobby of the building. You were supposed to meet the student liaison for the university exchange program there to get your dorm keys along with your class information. You looked around the large lobby in awe. It looked much more like a hotel with its grand marble floors and sophisticated ambiance than student accommodations. 

“You must be Y/N!” You heard a woman say in accented English and you spotted her walking across the lobby toward you. She was an older woman wearing a designer pantsuit, and her hair looked like she had just been at a salon. You certainly weren’t in Chicago anymore. Everything was different here, and you had only been at the airport and this place so far. 

“Hi, I am she,” you responded to the woman, feeling a little overwhelmed already. Which honestly wasn’t that unusual given the circumstances of the past year. 

“Welcome to PUC University and Rio de Janeiro. I’m Mrs. Delgado,” she said. She must have sensed how overwhelmed you were because she gave your arm a gentle pat before continuing. She pulls a packet of paper out of the bag she was carrying and hands it to you. “This is your class schedule and some information about the benefits available to you as an exchange student. There are only three classes since it is a summer program, one being the Portuguese class that all of our international students are required to take, Drawing 110, and Brazilian Art and Architecture.” 

After explaining your schedule, she then pulled out a set of keys that jingled on an ornate keychain, one that matched the building. “And these are the keys to your dorm,” she said, handing them to you. “I’ll let you get settled and ready for your first day tomorrow. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to contact me and boa sorte!” A second later, she was gone leaving you staring at your dorm number on the keychain. 

“203,” you murmured the number, looking around to see if there was any indication of where your room would be. You opted to ask the boy manning the front desk, whose English was actually great. He pointed to the staircase on the other end of the lobby and told you it was up those and to the right. Just as you were about to head up the stairs, wheeling your suitcase behind you, someone just about knocked you over. A guy to be exact, a handsome one at that. 

“Oh my gosh, I’m late. I’m so sorry, but I’m late!” He blurted, briskly brushing past you with a rushed apology. You stood at the bottom of the stairs, blinking while he ran out of the building. You didn’t have the energy to think about him right now despite his looks, not that you ever entertained the idea of a meet-cute this way or god forbid actually falling in love in this scenario.

You shook your head and put the handle down on your suitcase so you could carry it upstairs with you. You turned the key in the door to your room and walked in, your eyes taking in where you would live for the next few months. It was simple, much like a hotel room but you did have a tiny kitchenette that you didn’t expect to have and a window that looked out to the square that was in front of the building.

You brought your suitcase up on the twin bed so you could unpack a few things before thinking about finding dinner. You put a few clothes in the small dresser that was there before stumbling upon the whole reason you were here: your mom’s diary. You picked it up and sat on the edge of the bed with it, fingertips stroking the leather cover.

Six months earlier 

People were coming in and out of the house giving you and your family words of condolences, but everything was a blur to you. You sat on the couch in the living room when you had all come back from the funeral home, numb to everything. Tears had long since been exhausted, and now all you were was an empty shell, an empty shell without a mother. You were vaguely aware that your grandmother had sat down next to you, brushing your bangs out of your eyes before gently placing a book in your lap: your mother’s diary from when she was the same age as you.

You opened the leather book up, looking at the cover page that you had stared at so many times since your grandmother had given it to you. You recognized your mom’s loopy writing confirming that the diary belonged to her and Summer 1985 written underneath. You turned the page to the first entry, the one that had the photo of your mother outside this building stuck in right before it. It was dated June 15th of that year, when she arrived in Brazil and was in the same student housing. 

As you read your mother's account of her arriving at student housing, you couldn’t help but feel as if you were hearing her voice again. It was almost as if you were just on a trip and you were reading a letter she sent you. But of course, you weren’t just on any trip, and she was gone. 

Your stomach grumbled, interrupting your reading, and you closed the diary. You sighed, wondering if you should venture out to find something to eat. You pulled out your phone and laid down on the bed for a few minutes while you looked to see if there was someplace close that sounded decent. However, jet lag took over, and you fell asleep with your phone in your hand, it falling and smacking you on the forehead some time later.

Fourteen hours later, you awoke to your phone alarm going off. You panicked. Was that the first time your alarm went off? Were you late for your first class? You hadn’t meant to fall asleep at all, but that darn jet jag overcame you. Pressing your finger on the phone screen to silence the alarm, you were relieved to find that it really was just your first alarm. It was 7:30 am and you weren’t late, you had plenty of time. Which was a good thing because your stomach had upgraded from the light growling from last night to feeling like it was about to eat itself. 

You had done your research before enrolling in the summer program and knew that the university offered a student cafeteria for meals that was part of the tuition fee. You assumed it was in the packet of information you received yesterday as well, but you hadn’t had time to look over that yet. You got dressed in a simple sundress, one that was classy and suited to the warm weather in Rio. You grabbed the book bag with all your class materials from where you placed it at the small table by the door and headed out of your dorm.

The lobby was bustling with others probably also headed to their morning classes. The university’s campus was only a short distance away, so you opted to walk although it looked like the dorms had bikes outside the building that you could borrow if you wanted to. Your first class didn’t begin until 9 am and you would have plenty of time to get there as well as get breakfast at the cafeteria. 

You walked out of the dorm building and out to the cobbled stoned square. You paused to bring a map up on your phone, making sure you were about to head in the correct direction. You continued to walk on the brownish-gray stones as you passed by a few little shops before the cobblestones turned into a normal concrete street. You followed it up a small hill before you reached a large traffic circle with the main university building behind it. 

Luckily there was a campus map just outside the doors to the main entrance. You looked at it, finding where the cafeteria was and also noting where the international building was for your class afterward. The cafeteria was teeming with students getting food, mostly breakfast at this early hour. You got in line and grabbed some sliced fruit and scrambled eggs, as well as some coffee. They had some items that were also common for Brazilian culture, but you opted to try those later when you were less nervous and didn’t have a class to attend right after.

You scanned your meal card at the checkout which had been in the packet of information that Mrs. Delgado had given you yesterday. You chose an empty table near the windows and ate your food as leisurely as you could before class. Your stomach was no longer trying to eat itself and all that remained was an uncertain feeling in the pit of it. You didn’t even know why you felt all this turmoil, but nothing felt right or even normal since your mother passed.

You placed your empty tray at one of the receptacles by the door and walked out of the cafeteria. You followed the path you mapped out earlier, leading to the international building. You had about 15 minutes before the class started, so you didn’t need to hurry. You looked around at the buildings on your way. The campus looked much like a normal campus but all buildings were made from stucco material and the main roads had a wave-like pattern in them.

You reached the classroom after a few minutes. The door was on the outside of the building and you opened it. Still being a bit early, there were only a few people in the classroom. You chose a seat in the middle, not too far in the front but not too far in the back. You sat your bookbag on the floor next to you, took out the textbook with your notebook and a pen, and set them on the table in front of you. A couple of loud students entered the classroom and you couldn’t help but look up at the noise. 

You couldn’t believe your eyes. The same boy who nearly ran you over yesterday was among the group. You inwardly groaned. Worse yet, when he scanned the room for a seat, he spotted you. You looked down at the desk, trying to hide your face to no avail. “Oh! It’s you!” He exclaimed, coming to sit in the space next to you. You kept looking in every other direction but his, hoping he would think you were actually someone else.

He didn’t seem to be aware that you were trying to avoid eye contact and continued to introduce himself. “Hi, I’m Soonyoung! I’m really sorry for almost running into you yesterday but I hope we can be friends since it looks like we are both exchange students!” Now you couldn’t help but stare at him. How could someone have so much energy and also be so clueless to your anti-social cues? Your brain was tired just listening to him ramble on. 

You weren’t sure what else he was saying but it sounded like he asked a question. “-your name?” Oh, great, he was asking for your name. You contemplated not telling him, but he would probably annoy it out of you anyway. “I’m Y/N,” you responded, your irritation slightly bleeding into your tone. Soonyoung didn’t get to say anything after that. Luckily, the teacher walked into the classroom at that moment, clapping his hands to gain everyone’s attention and effectively cutting off any conversations happening. 

The teacher, who introduced himself as Mr. Morales went over the class syllabus, and then you started in on the first chapter of the textbook which introduced the different sounds the Portuguese language had versus English. You avoided Soonyoung’s gaze the entire time but you could feel it on you. As soon as class was dismissed, you threw your belongings back in your bag and booked it out of the classroom before he had time to think about catching you. 

You didn’t have more classes today, your other two would happen tomorrow so you had planned to take the somewhat long trek to see the famous statue in Rio, Christ the Redeemer. It would take you about an hour and a half by bus, but your mother had visited it, so you wanted to as well. You pulled out the bus timetable and map (one of the many things in the packet that Mrs. Delgado had given you) from your bag as you walked back toward the front of campus where the bus stops were.

You found the stop for the correct bus number and sat down in a seat under the covered area to avoid the early afternoon sun. The timetable showed the bus you needed would be there in about five minutes and once you got off it, you would have to decide if you wanted to walk to the statue or if you were going to take a tram. 

You sat there watching students walk by as you waited, looking like they were having the best time being at school. You felt so out of place, questioning why you even decided to come here. Would this really make you feel closer to your mother, make you feel better about her being gone? You highly doubted you’d ever feel better about the latter. 

You stuck your hand inside your bookbag, finding your mother’s diary and brushing your hand over the smooth leather surface. Somehow feeling the front of the book, touching a physical item of hers always soothed your thoughts. You knew you would continue feeling like you didn’t belong in a place as amazing as Rio, but you wanted to keep seeing what she saw and hearing her voice through diary entries, even if it was something you could only hear in your head. 

The bus arrived, pulling you out of your thoughts and you got up to get on it. You tapped the bus pass on the pad at the front near the driver and scanned the bus. There were quite a few people on the bus but it wasn’t packed. You spotted a window seat near the middle and took it. The ride was kind of long but you had nice scenery to look at and the bus wasn’t too loud. You took some time to relax a little and soak it all in. 

About an hour later, the bus had reached its destination. You had arrived at the bottom of a somewhat large mountain near the entrance to a rainforest. You looked at how high it was and at the statue at the top. You definitely were not going to hike that today, and opted to take the tram that was available instead. There was a little kiosk nearby where you bought your tram ticket and a schedule posted on the side that said the tram came every 5 minutes at this time of day.

Luckily, you didn’t have to wait long at all since you bought your ticket just a minute or two before the next one arrived. You handed your ticket over to the driver and got on the tram. It reminded you of those trams they had when you went to the zoo or something. The sides were open so you could feel the breeze as the tram climbed the mountain and you could smell the different plants and trees.

The further the tram climbed, the closer the famous statue got, and soon you arrived at the bottom of it. The tram stopped at the park at the top of the mountain that contained Christ the Redeemer. You got off the tram, in awe of how big the statue really was. You knew it was big, but seeing it in person was something else entirely. 

Many people surrounded the bottom of the statue and there were no benches to be seen. You found an empty area on one side and decided to sit on the concrete floor of the platform. Looking up at the statue, you settled in your sitting spot and pulled your sketchbook and your mother’s diary from your bag. You opened the diary to the next unread page, dated a week later than the first. Another photo was stuck in the pages and you took it out, seeing another photo of your mother smiling, with Christ the Redeemer in the background.

June 21st, 1985

Rio has been amazing. I haven’t been here long but it sometimes feels like home to me. I feel like I belong here with all this incredible architecture. And guess what? I met a boy! I came to visit the famous Christ the Redeemer statue and he offered to take my photo with the statue. He was actually in the middle of drawing a caricature for another girl but dropped everything when he saw I was trying to take a photo of myself with the statue. I couldn’t help but swoon a little. I found out he studies drawing at the same university that I’m attending for the summer. And then he asked me out for dinner! I’m really excited to go on a date with him. Will this just be a summer fling or could it be more? 

You took in this entry. Did your mom meet someone here? Was it your dad? You couldn’t help but be curious about this man and you wondered how far their relationship had gotten. Was he the person from whom you got your talent for drawing? You had so many questions and knew that those questions might go unanswered. For now, you opted to try and feel connected by drawing something yourself.

You took your sketch pencils out of the small pocket at the front of your bag and opened your sketchbook up to a blank page. Setting it in your lap, you looked around, deciding what you wanted to sketch exactly. Just the statue or the people surrounding it too? You decided to just sketch the statue to start with and fill in surrounding areas as you saw fit. You drew, looking up every once in a while to look at the small details of the statue. 

One time you looked up and noticed someone busking close to the bottom of the statue a little bit in front of you. He looked cute from just a glance. He was dancing to a little boombox playing near him with a cup next to it, collecting any change people were willing to give. You looked closer and realized who the dancer was. Soonyoung. You sighed in annoyance. Was he everywhere? Was the universe messing with you?

You continued to draw, hoping he was too distracted by his busking to notice you. There were tons of people around, there was no way he could spot you among all of them. As you sketched your eyes couldn’t help but be drawn back to him like a magnet. His dance moves were sharp but smooth and you could see his routine completely consumed him. You kept taking glances while sketching.

You were finishing up the last few lines when you heard your name called. You thought he was too enthralled with his busking to notice you, but you were very wrong. He picked up his cup of change and his boombox and jogged over to where you were. “I didn’t expect to see you here,” he said, stopping in front of where you were sitting and giving you a smile that made the corners of his eyes crinkle.

“Um, yeah. I decided to do some sightseeing and do some sketching,” you responded, a little meekly. You felt weird around him now for some reason. He was annoying in class earlier, but now he seemed different and you weren't sure what to think. He was still bright and energetic but not irritatingly so. 

“Oh, you draw?” he asked, a bit surprised.

“Yeah, that’s what I’m studying here this summer. Art,” you explained.

“Cool! I’m here for performance arts if the busking hadn’t given you a heads up already,” He offered with a small laugh.

He paused your small conversation for a minute to take a look at his change cup to see how much he had made today.

“Listen, if you are done with what you wanted to do today..there’s a nice cafe near the tram station and if you are hungry, I made more than enough money today so I’d like to treat you,” He rambled. It wasn’t exactly a question, but the way he said it was actually kind of cute.

You were hungry and you supposed it couldn’t hurt, right? “Alright,” you agreed and a smile stretched across his face again. You put your sketchbook, pencils, and mom’s diary back in your bag and stood up, brushing your pants off from any dirt that you picked up while sitting on the ground. Maybe you should take a page from your mom’s book and get to know Soonyoung a little more.

You both walked back down off the statue’s platform and down the stairs to where the tram would pick you up and take you back down the mountain and to where the cafe Soonyoung mentioned would be. Once again, you did not have to wait long for the tram to arrive and you both got on, Soonyoung sitting next to you.

You could feel the breeze again as the tram descended the mountain this time. You looked over to find Soonyoung looking out the other side quietly, the wind ruffling his hair lightly. He had the same smile on his face as earlier, making his face look strangely childlike compared to the manly confidence he had earlier while busking. You liked seeing the two different sides of him. It was cute. He could be quiet when he was by himself, a big difference from when he was with a crowd.

While you were busy staring at Soonyoung, the tram stopped back at the bottom of the mountain. “Y/N?” Soonyoung questioned, holding out a hand to pull you up from the seat.

“Oh, sorry,” you said, not realizing you had spaced out. You took his hand as he pulled you up, noticing how big it was. It felt nice, having your hand engulfed in his. You continued to hold on to it as you both got off the tram. When you both got off, you let go awkwardly, not wanting to give Soonyoung the wrong idea (even if you did really like holding his). You hadn’t even been on a date yet. He gave a nervous chuckle and just beckoned you to follow him. 

You followed him down a few streets from the park area where you guys were previously, to a little hole-in-the-wall cafe that was surrounded by other shops and small apartments. It was small and felt homey when you walked in the door with Soonyoung. You waited at the front for a minute or two before someone came by to seat you. “Oh? I see you brought a friend today!” The waitress said before grabbing some menus and guiding you to open-air seating at a back patio that featured a small garden to the side of it.

She sat you two at a table and sat the menus in front of you. “I’ll be back in a few to take your order,” she said before giving Soonyoung a knowing wink. 

“I take it you come here a lot,” you commented.

“You could say that,” he responded with a sheepish grin, “I usually make enough to come here each time I busk, so two to three times a week?” 

“Two to three times a week?!” You were surprised that he busked that often and that he chose to come here every time.

“Yeah, it’s the only way for me to make some extra cash. I’m here through a special program so they only pay for my tuition and dorm fees,” he explained. You nodded. You were similar, except that you had your grandmother sending you spending money when you needed it. 

You turned your attention to the menu, trying to decide what to eat. There were a lot of options but you decided to try a more traditional Brazilian stew called Feijoada. Something hearty sounded good after the busy day you’ve had so far. The waitress came by and took your order while Soonyoung ordered Moqueca, another type of stew but with seafood.

You made more small talk while waiting for your food to arrive such as where you were originally from (You: Chicago, Him: Seoul) and what types of foods you liked. You passed the time well enough that your food felt like it came out quickly. It looked amazing and your stomach confirmed how hungry you were by giving a small growl. Loud enough, however, to make Soonyoung let out a small giggle.

You start digging in when Soonyoung nervously broaches a topic. “So, when we were at Christ the Redeemer you mentioned doing some sightseeing. I don’t know if I’m reading too much into things, but it seems like it was more than just seeing the sights here.”

You put down your spoon and contemplate whether you want to open up to him or not. You sighed before starting your explanation. “You’re right, it’s not just general sightseeing. In fact, my mom is the whole reason I’m here.”

“Your mom?” He asked, prompting you to continue.

“Yeah…she um, died about 6 months ago,” you said, looking down at your stew like it was the most fascinating thing in the world at the moment.

“Oh, Y/N. I’m so sorry,” Soonyoung frowned, his voice turning sympathetic and you swore his eyes had a sheen to them.

“It’s…okay. Or at least it’s becoming okay,” you responded honestly and then continued. “Anyway, my grandma gave me my mom's diary. One she kept while she was here doing this program with the university. So I decided to do it too and see all the same sights she did hoping it might make me feel closer to her or something? I don’t know.” You were rambling a little now. 

“I think that’s neat,” Soonyoung said after a minute.

“You do?” You asked, a bit surprised.

“Yeah, I think it’s cool. You get to go stand where she stood and see the same things she saw with her own eyes. That’s definitely a good way to feel closer to someone,” He encouraged.

“It does,” you agreed.

“This might sound weird and I know we’ve only known each other a few days but would it be okay if we go to the places your mom did together?” Soonyoung asked. His eyes no longer had the sheen you saw a minute ago but instead held a mixture of empathy, excitement, and something else you couldn’t decipher. 

Before you knew it, you found yourself nodding. “I think I’d like that,” you said, a smile starting to tug at the edges of your lips. Then you leaned over the table to give him a small peck on the cheek. He looked a little stunned for a minute but then he smiled back, a wide smile that showed his teeth and you had to admit he was adorable. 

How could you go from being so annoyed by him to liking him a lot in just one day? You didn’t know but maybe your mom would have wanted this for you.

©️wooahaeproductions

All works on this blog are protected under copyright. Do not repost, continue, or translate my works.

[marleemutt]

TLDR: im a black trans artist who can use some help right now following the sudden passing of my only sister - her doberman is now the responsibility of my parents and we can use help for his food, supplements, toys etc.

Kofi (help me send Chewy orders to my parent's house)

Wishlist (literally send him things like toys, treats, etc.)

⬇️ more info ⬇️

hey guys

some of you might be aware of this already, but early October, my eldest sibling & only sister suddenly passed away due to a seizure, she had been dealing with epilepsy her whole life.

this has been incredibly difficult for me, and my family. her passing was incredibly sudden, she was only 30.

for the past month or so ive been struggling to find any motivation to draw, and barely able to work.

she was the incredibly devoted owner of a doberman named Remi(Ramsey). Me and my sister traveled 4 hours to pick him up three years ago. He's a goofball who tears up socks and needs constant supervision. My parents love him, but I can tell he is a lot of work for two people who have fulltime jobs and have lived long lives.

I'm going to try to help them take care of him as much as possible, I feel that it's the least we can do to honor my sister's memory, since she loved him so deeply.

My sister always wanted a doberman, for years she would watch videos about dobermans and talk about them to anyone who would listen.

Remi wasn't easy to raise - I shared a room with my sister when she got him in 2020, she still worked a 9-5, five days a week, so I was his nanny for most of his difficult childhood. I was his chew toy for the first year of his life about - but that only made him bond closer to me. If he wasn't following my sister, I was choice #2. Dobermans are "velcro dogs", they were bred to guard their owners, and because of this, they are fiercely loyal. I've been moved out of my parent's place for going on 3 years, and my sister had just moved with Remi out a few months prior to her passing.

A week before my sister's sudden passing, we had to board Remi at my dog daycare job while my family and I took a trip out of state. When dropping him off, although he was happy to see me again for the first time in months, the moment my sister turned her back to him he began to panic. He got through the boarding all right but my coworkers told me he would cry and wait by the door for me or her. When my sister picked him up, they said he jumped all 80+lbs into her arms.

Since my sister's passing, Remi has been directionless. He's with my family, people he trusts, but he's bored, confused, and heartbroken. My sister would often take him to the dog park, social events, on runs, etc. but my parent's can't do that in their age. If my apartment allowed large dogs, I would take him, but I can't, and I see him maybe twice a month if possible.

Ramsey's Christmas List

I made a christmas list for him of things that might help my parents better take care of him. We're trying different food brands out because he struggles with frequent stomach issues, and we can't seem to figure out what food my sister was feeding him. This list is by no means a necessity for him, but I tried to add things to help with his boredom and keep him stimulated when my parents can't give him all their attention.

i do want to state that my family is capable of providing him with the essentials to live, we arent irresponsible. i would just like to help my parents out since a 3 year old 80-90lb doberman is a lot of work to be suddenly placed on them soley. And I worry for his health and well-being sometimes - Remi has a tendency to eat/tear random objects when he's bored.

please consider donating whatever you can. Everything goes directly to him.

thank you for taking the time to read this, and possibly reblog if possible. ❤️

[shakespeareanwannabe]

As You Wish, Chapter 13

Summary: When arriving at Camp Silver Star, Abby Floyd was anticipating a summer of adventure with an ocean separating her from the three people she loved most: her mom, her Uncle Bob and her Aunt Natasha. But after a run in with Charlie Seresin, an extremely familiar looking and irritating camper in a different cabin, her summer plans take a turn that neither girl ever could have expected.

Trigger Warnings: reader's children are described as being blond with green eyes because genetics are wild and Jake's genes are strong, reader is canonically Bob's sister (but biological relation is never discussed), reader goes by Buttercup and is tattooed, drinking, reference to divorce, kids doing sneaky things, references to pregnancy, swearing, references to the hospital, references to an accident

South Trail, Seresin Ranch, Clifton, Texas, Now

Charlie felt a chill run down her spine as their trail group walked steadily down the beaten dirt path. Dad was in the lead, as per usual, and Abby had beaten her in a game of rock, paper, scissors in order to come second. That left Charlie third, close enough to Savannah to hear every muttered complaint and snap of her camera as she took selfies.

“Jakey!!!” Savannah cried out as they emerged from the trees onto a lookout, the ledge watching over a field full of wildflowers. “We need to stop! I need photos of this for my followers!”

Charlie stifled a giggle as she saw her dad’s head slump forwards. This was the fifth time Savannah had whined about needed a photo opportunity since they had left the ranch, approximately five hours ago.

“Savannah, I—”

“This is the last one, I promise!” she squealed, clumsily pulling her horse to a stop and sliding down her side until her suede boots touched the ground. She practically threw her phone to Jake and went to stand on the edge of the cliff.

Jake grunted as he neatly dismounted and patted Firewall on the flank. “It has to be the last one or we won’t make it to the campground before nightfall.”

“Yeah, yeah, fine, whatever,” Savannah chirped as she struck pose after pose.

Charlie and Abby both dismounted and moved off the trail to stand in the shade of the trees.

“It would be mean to scare her and hope that she falls, right?” Charlie muttered under her breath.

“Charlie!” Abby let out a scandalized gasp. “She may be awful, but we can’t wish death upon her…though I would be lying if I said that the same thought hadn’t occurred to me as well.”

Charlie slumped against the tree, watching the horses drag their reins on the ground as they stood on the trail, waiting for their riders to be done. “She’s just…the worst.”

“I know. Why would Mum insist that she come with us instead?”

“She said that she wanted Savannah to have a chance to get to know us.”

Charlie smirked. “Alright then. Let’s let her get to know us. Then maybe she’ll wish she had never met us.”

“We’re not that awful,” Abby rolled her eyes.

“I know that, and you know that, but Savannah doesn’t know that. So, let’s make her think we’re the worst. Then she won’t want to marry Dad because it would mean having to spend time with us.”

Abby grinned, her eyes trained on a spot on the ground. “I think I know exactly how to start.”

Crouching to the ground, Abby scooped up a tiny chipmunk from where it was nestled in the roots of a tree.

“Hey buddy…” she whispered. “I bet you want to see what’s in our saddlebags.”

Charlie covered her mouth to muffle the sound of her giggles as they approached Angel.

“Do it now! Savannah’s got her back to us!”

Quiet as a mouse, Abby slid open the saddlebag and slipped the chipmunk inside. “And now we wait.”

Around noon, Buttercup wandered into the kitchen from the guest bedroom. She hadn’t been lying about having to work. Her deadline was rapidly approaching, and she had been struggling quite a bit with writer’s block, so she had taken advantage of the silence of the ranch house and the beauty of the view and spent the morning writing her heart out. Twenty pages later, and her groove had been interrupted by the grumble of her stomach. So, she saved her work and, slowly as to admire the pictures and paintings on the walls of her ex-husband’s home, she wandered out of her writing cave and into the kitchen, where she was faced with a sweaty Rooster.

“Oh…hey.”

He grunted at her as he dug through the fridge. “I’ll be out of your way in a minute.”

“Technically, I’m in your way, since this is your home so…don’t worry about it.” All she received in return was another grunt, and she sighed. “I know you’re mad at me. I know you were against our divorce since the beginning, I know you hated the custody arrangement, and I know you blame me for moving to a different continent, but Rooster…” she sniffled. “Thank you. Thank you for taking care of them for me, when I wasn’t here…when I wasn’t strong enough to do it myself.”

She watched as Rooster sighed, his head hanging between his shoulders before he slammed the fridge door shut and turned towards her.

“Listen, it isn’t your fault. You were sick. I remember my mom talking about how she got sick after havin’ me, and…and shit, Buttercup, I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy. And it didn’t help that we kept getting deployed. You were goin’ through it and none of us could see it. I know you fought like hell, and so does he. I just—”

“You know what its like to not have a dad around, so you wish things had been different for Abby. And you know what its like to not have a mom around, so you wish things had been different for Charlie. Right?”

He blinked at her. “Get your ass outta my head.”

She chuckled before the mood settled around them, still slightly somber.

“I should’ve been able to handle it,” she whispered, and Rooster sighed, leaning back against the fridge.

“Hangman should’ve been able to handle it too,” he shrugged. “I know I was pissed off at you for putting yourself first, and it wasn’t fair. I was more worried about how the divorce would affect the team dynamic, instead of worrying about how the divorce would affect you. But he screwed up too. He should’ve put you first, not the team. That’s how it’s supposed to be.” Buttercup blinked up at him and he shrugged. “I started going to therapy after a bar fight when Charlie was like 2. Court mandated, but it helped. I let a lot of shit go.”

“Good for you,” she smiled. “I am grateful that they had you and Javy to lean on, you know. I’m not just trying to get back on your good side.”

“I know,” he shrugged and turned his back to her. “What do you want for lunch? I could hear your stomach grumbling from my room.”

She grinned and sat at the counter. “I imagine asking you for a salad wouldn’t fly?”

He scoffed without turning his back. “We eat healthy in this house, but we don’t eat rabbit food. What do you really want for lunch?”

She giggled. “What about taco salad?”

He turned and pointed at her. “Now that’s a damn good idea.”

It couldn’t have gone better if they had trained the chipmunk themselves. They had remounted and strolled along the trail for another fifteen minutes before Savannah started pawing at the saddlebag, looking for her oversized, bright pink water bottle. She was able to pry open the clasp of the bag and stick her hand inside. And then it happened…

The chipmunk launched into action, racing up her arm before Savannah could even realize what was happening and landed on her shoulder. Savannah freaked out, screaming and shaking her arm to try to dislodge it. Sweet Angel picked up on her rider’s anxious movements and started trotting down the trail, shaking her head this way and that.

Charlie and Abby watched from the rear as the chipmunk disappeared under the hem of Savannah’s designer t-shirt, Savannah screaming as the rodent searched for an escape. Angel reared up and Savannah clung to her neck. Both girls turned their heads to hide their giggles as their dad scooped the reins out of Savannah’s hands and gently pulled Angel back to the ground, soothing her in a calm voice. The chipmunk finally found an escape through the arm of her flannel, and leapt from Angel’s back to a nearby tree.

“Oh my goodness, Savannah!” Abby called, urging her horse forward. “Are you alright?”

“That was crazy!” Charlie gasped, hiding her laughter behind her hand.

She glared suspiciously at them but said, “I’m fine. Thank you.”

Jake tied Angel’s reins to Firewall’s saddle and turned back to look at them. “We’re going to head to the campground now, okay, Charlie?”

Both girls gave him a thumbs up and he rolled his eyes. When he turned back to face forward, they leaned over and high-fived each other. Neither the chipmunk nor Angel had been hurt, but Savannah screams had been absolutely hilarious. Perhaps their dad suspected them (he knew enough about the great outdoors to know that a chipmunk wouldn’t just materialize inside a closed saddlebag), but perhaps their little prank had allowed their father to see a different side of Savannah.

Lunch with Rooster had been good. The taco salad he had whipped up had been absolutely delicious, the ground beef perfectly spiced, and the spinach base had been simple but brilliant. More than that though had been their conversation. He had filled her in on so much of Charlie’s life (and Jake’s life as well, since it was so tightly woven with Charlie’s). She had always known that Jake would be a brilliant father, but some of the stories that Rooster had shared with her had her torn between laughter and tears. The antics her husband and her youngest daughter had gotten up to were bittersweet to hear about. In her mind’s eye, she could see them happening. She could see Jake flying toddler Charlie over his head, could hear her phantom cries as he gathered her 8-year-old body in his arms and carried her to the car, her arm bent at a painful angle.

As she strolled along the gravel path towards the dude cabins, she could practically see the phantom figures of her family as they lived and grew here. Knowing she had missed so much of Charlie’s life here, she regretted her decision to stay behind on the trail ride, but she hoped that Savannah would be able to make a better impression on her daughters than she had made on her.

“Honestly…” she muttered as she approached Cabin 1, where her brother and Natasha were staying. “What kind of woman doesn’t want to write her own wedding vows?” She sighed and climbed up the few stairs to the porch. “And what kind of sadistic bullshit is it to ask your future husband’s ex-wife to write the vows for you?”

She shook off the question as she knocked on the door. It had obviously been some sort of territorial claim from Savannah, trying to show Buttercup that he was hers now, but Buttercup had no doubt about that. She’d hurt Jake too badly for things to ever go back to the simple, fun, and loving way it had been before.

Natasha threw open the door and groaned. “Thank god it’s you.”

She chuckled and entered the cozy, modern cabin. “Who did you think it was?”

Natasha rolled her eyes and collapsed onto the comfy leather couch. “Javy. He keeps trying to come and talk to me.” Her friend shuddered dramatically.

Buttercup considered her carefully as she lowered onto the other side of the couch. “What’s the deal with you two? I thought Jake was the one you hated.”

Nat sighed and buried the scarred side of her face in the couch. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Buttercup took the pillow from behind her and whacked her friend with it. “C’mon! You’re acting like he killed your dog or something!”

Nat snatched the pillow and tossed it back at her. “Why’re you being so pushy, bitch?”

“Because you and Javy have been at each other’s throats since we got here, and I had to kick you out of dinner last night before either of you said or did something inappropriate in front of my children. And I hated doing that.”

Natasha let out a low whine as she tried to bury herself deeper in the couch. “Sorry…I promise I won’t call him a self-important bastard in front of your children.”

Buttercup barked a laugh and cuddled down into her seat. “But why would you call him that? It’s so weird! I honestly thought you two were into each other back in the day.” Natasha shifted so that her back was towards her friend, and Buttercup read it all in the tense line of her back. “Oh my god, you were into him!”

“Shut up…” Natasha grumbled. “He was into me too.”

“Were you two hooking up?”

Natasha rolled to look at her again. “Yeah. For a couple of months. Whenever we were both at Top Gun.”

Buttercup squealed and crawled across the couch so that she was right next to Natasha. “I knew it!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Natasha grumbled, pushing her off.

“So, what happened? Bad breakup? You act like you want to kill him.”

Natasha groaned. “No, it wasn’t a bad breakup. It wasn’t a real relationship.”

“Did he want it to be?”

Natasha buried her head in the pillow. “Yeah…he wanted to make it official after that last deployment. We fought about it a lot. I didn’t want to risk it because…” Natasha paused and looked guiltily over at her.

“Because?” Buttercup prompted gently, having a sneaking suspicion that she knew where this was going.

“Because I saw how messed up you were after the divorce,” Natasha admitted. “Our jobs are–were–risky enough without being in a relationship. And if our relationship fell apart the way yours and Jake’s did?” She sighed. “I told him no, but he wouldn’t let it go. Then there was the crash, and he came to visit me in the hospital and…” Natasha’s fingers clenched into fists. “He told me he would ‘take care of me’. That he felt like it was time to retire and that he would stay with me and that it would all be okay.”

“And that’s…bad?” Buttercup leaned back, confused. “He cared and wanted to help you? Why is that a bad thing?”

Natasha shuddered. “I couldn’t stand him looking at me with all that pity. And besides, why did he retire? He had the best job in the whole damn world and he willingly gave it up? Are you kidding me? They all gave it up! I mean, okay, Bob makes sense because he wanted to help you but why the hell would the rest of them give it up? Fucking idiots.”

Buttercup bit her lip. A decade of living with the other woman told her that trying to talk to Natasha when she was this fired up would be like trying to draw blood from a stone. So instead, she said, “Where is Bob, anyway?”

Natasha shrugged. “He got a phone call and went for a walk.”

“What is up with him and these phone calls?” Buttercup mused as she folded her legs beneath her.

“No clue. But what is with you deciding to stay back and let Cowgirl Barbie go on the trail ride with your girls and your man?”

Buttercup grumbled at her. “He’s not my man, and you know it.”

“Does he know that?”

Buttercup rolled her eyes. “Of course he does! He’s marrying Savannah, remember?”

Nat rolled her eyes and rolled off the couch before padding into the kitchen. “Of course I remember. That’s why I’m going to get wine. We’re going to need it.”

By the time they reached the campground, Abby was half convinced that Savannah had never been on a horse before. Even though she kept telling stories about her championship barrel racer back on her own ranch, poor Angel kept tossing her head at the confusing signals that her rider kept giving her. Charlie was fully confused. She’d done barrel racing before and the way Savannah was describing it, she knew she had never done it in her life. Her stories about shopping, drinking wine, and winning Miss Texas however, Charlie completely believed. No one could sound so excited about boring adult things if they hadn’t actually done them.

Luckily, they wouldn’t have to share a tent with her. That had been a stipulation of her joining them. Her own tent. Not even shared with their father, just her. Luckily, Jake had packed a hammock that he had already strung up between two sturdy trees for himself, leaving the other tent for his daughters.

All three Seresin’s watched Savannah as she primped in front of her cellphone camera, taking selfies of herself near the lake they were camping by. Jake shook his head with a sigh as he finished setting up her tent and stretched.

“What do we think about a dip in the lake before dinner?” he asked the girls, a wild grin on his face.

Both nodded eagerly and bolted into their tent to pull their swimsuits on.

“Did you bring it?” Charlie whispered, and Abby nodded, pulling out a packet from her backpack.

“Uncle Roo gave it to me and I tucked it away for safe keeping,” Abby replied. “You distract Dad, and I’ll make sure it reaches our target.”

“Deal.”

Both girls quickly changed and headed out of the tent.

“Dad!” Charlie called. Jake turned from where he was talking to Savannah, his hands soothingly rubbing her shoulders as she scowled at him. “Can you help me put sun block on my shoulders? Mom would kill me if I came back burned.”

Jake grinned. “She’d kill me first,” he called back, turning from Savannah and strolling over to Charlie.

Jake sufficiently distracted, Abby snuck into Savannah’s tent and ripped open her packet. She sprinkled the contents everywhere. In her sleeping bag, in her clothes, on her hairbrush, in her shoes, and definitely on the inside of her hat.

With a wicked grin, Abby crumpled up the evidence and crept back to her tent to hide it in her backpack. She emerged just in time for Jake to finish lathering her sister with sun block, the two of them turning to her.

“My turn?” she smiled at him sweetly.

“Yeah, baby, c’mere.”

Charlie turned to Savannah, who was still trying to find the just right angle for her selfie. “Will you be joining us in the water, Savannah?”

The petite blond couldn’t hide her sneer. “I think I’ll pass, sugar, but thanks.”

“Suit yourself,” Charlie shrugged. “You might want to get changed then. It’s going to start cooling off soon.”

Savannah smiled, the pull of her lips a touch too saccharine to be sincere, and said, “Thanks, honey. I’ll do that.”

As Savannah strutted into her tent, Jake joined his daughters and mussed their hair. “Last one in is a rotten egg!”

He took off running, his long legs eating up the ground as his daughters squealed and sprinted after him.

By the time they emerged from the chilly water, the sun was hanging low in the Texan sky and the air had adopted a slight nip that spoke of the coming autumn. Charlie and Abby raced to get dressed in their flannel pyjamas and their thick socks. As they pulled on their matching PJs, they heard Savannah whine and swapped grins.

“I HATE THE OUTDOORS!” she shrieked. “Everything hurts, I have bruises everywhere, my hair is so frizzy, and I must’ve been bitten a thousand times because I can’t. Stop. ITCHING!”

The girls could practically hear the frustrated look on their father’s face as he faced her. “I thought you said you’d been camping before?” he asked, his voice cool under pressure.

Savannah scoffed. “Yeah, in a cabin like civilized human beings. You know, electricity and indoor plumbing? And we never rode to the cabin! We drove there.”

“Who took care of that prize winning mare of yours while you were gone?”

“The staff, as usual,” she replied as though she were talking to a small child. “They do everything for her.”

The twins could feel the rising tension even from inside the shelter of their tent. “Even ride her?”

“Duh,” Savannah giggled. “Daddy paid top dollar for her because I wanted to try barrel racing, but I hate riding, so now she just has babies that we sell. Daddy lets me keep the profit since she’s mine and all. Two of her babies paid for my month-long trip to Paris.”

Jake huffed a sigh. “And you didn’t tell me this because?”

“What does it matter?” she replied coyly, a branch cracking under her foot as she moved closer to him. “We have loads of other things in common, sugar.”

Charlie rolled her eyes at Abby before leaping out of their tent. “Dad! We’re starving! Can we get the fire going so we can eat?”

Jake nodded, his eyes still fixed on Savannah. “You two go collect some firewood, and I’ll get everything ready.”

“Savannah, you want to come?” Abby called sweetly.

Savannah grumbled, her hands scrabbling against her chest and stomach. “Why am I so damn itchy!” she shouted, stomping her foot.

Jake huffed and turned to her. “You’re probably having an allergic reaction to something. Go wash off in the lake while the girls are gone. Take the calamine lotion from in my bag and make sure you cover all your itchy areas. I’ll get you some of my clothes to wear.”

“An allergic reaction to what?” she seethed, glaring at the twins as though she knew it was their fault.

“I think Uncle Rooster might have changed our laundry detergent,” Charlie supplied, grinning at her. “Maybe that’s it.”

“Maybe…” Savannah snarled before stalking off, the sound of her complaining drowning out the twin’s peals of laughter.

Savannah complained that the hot dogs and smores they were eating weren’t on her diet plan for the wedding, but Jake promptly shut it all down by telling her they were her only choice. Grumpy and painted pink from the calamine lotion, she slowly munched on a hot dog, grimacing with every bite.

“Dad?”

Jake grinned at Abby and nodded. “What’s up, kiddo?”

“I know you’re supposed to tell us stories around the campfire…” Jake’s confirming nod gave her the courage to finish. “Could you tell us about your first date with Mom?”

Savannah’s eyes went wide, and she looked as if she was about to complain again, but Jake cut her a look and she quieted.

“Sure, darlin’. If that’s what you want to hear…” Jake grunted as he settled himself further into his chair, his daughters watching him from a log across the crackling fire. “Let’s see…”

The San Diego Zoo, almost 13 years ago

Jake’s palms were sweating, which was saying something. He was the only pilot of his generation who had not one, but two air to air confirmed kills under his belt. He was ice cold under pressure. Nothing made him flinch. But strolling amongst the different animal exhibits with Buttercup had his hands damp and gross, no matter how many times he wiped them on his jeans.

My god, how he had fallen for her. Her spark, her sass, that fire in her eyes that challenged him in all the right ways. She was brilliant. She was perfect. And he had to make sure she didn’t wise up and take her brother's advice. There was no denying that Bob Floyd still didn't like him very much, and who could blame him? He'd been a dick to everyone when they had all arrived at Top Gun for the Uranium Mission. Now, Jake was still a dick, but he wasn't 100% an asshole anymore. He needled his teammates, pushed them to be better, aggravated them until they were achieving their full potential. It's what he did. What he had always done, even as the captain and quarterback of the high school football team. His methods didn't earn him many friends, but they earned him a shitload of respect.

It had taken him three weeks to work up the courage to ask out Bob Floyd's little sister. Three weeks of hanging out with her at the Hard Deck, three weeks of getting his ass kicked by her at pool, three weeks of feeling like a fucking freshman again, drooling over the girl that was so out of his league.

It was Phoenix who had finally given him the push to ask her out. A gruff "She likes you too, dumbass, so don't miss your fucking chance" was all that he needed to ask her to go to the zoo of all places. He'd heard her mention it a couple of times and wanted to make their first date memorable, because he had a sneaky feeling that it was one he would be talking about for a while.

“Giraffes are this way, darlin’,” he chuckled as he gently tugged her arm down the correct path.

Buttercup squealed and swung their hands between them. “I freaking love giraffes!”

He shook his head playfully. “You’re such a weirdo.”

“What?” she pouted. “The hot aviator my brother has been bitching about for like a year takes me to the zoo to meet the giraffes and I’m not allowed to be excited about it?”

“No, you are,” he smiled, squeezing her hand. “It’s cute.”

“You just said it was weird,” she pointed out.

“Yeah, but a good weird. I like your weird.”

“I like your weird too.”

He blinked. “I’m not weird.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re the only person I know who can name every type of military jet. In order of the year they were made.”

“Lots of pilots can do that,” he blushed.

“No they can’t, and you know it.”

“Fine, whatever,” he teased. “The giraffes are here, you weirdo.”

She squealed again and tugged him along to the meeting area, where the tour guide was waiting for them.

The whole tour of the giraffe enclosure, Jake kept a close eye on Buttercup, who was drinking in all the information. She was incredible. The way her eyes lit up with excitement, the way she quietly squealed as the giraffes strolled over to look at her. It made a funny pit grow in his stomach. He could watch her facial expressions forever. It made him feel like a fucking superhero to know that he was the one who made her smile like that, that he had been the one to make this happen.

Finally, the tour guide led them up close to the giraffes, who were milling about the wide paddock.

“I’m going to fill their food buckets so that they’ll come closer, and you can say hi, okay?” she grinned at them and Jake pulled out his phone. He wanted to capture the smile on her face as she met her favourite animal for the first time. He wanted to be able to look down at that smile the next time he was out in the middle of the Atlantic and remember how good she had made him feel just by standing beside him.

Buttercup squealed softly as the giraffes came close, and Jake chuckled. "Excited?"

"I still can't believe you set this up," she murmured, glancing up at him with stars in her eyes. "This is the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me."

"You're welcome." His smile was almost shy as he watched her interact with the gentle giants. "Would you maybe want to grab dinner on the way back? I know a great place for Italian."

Her responding grin was just as bright as it was when she started feeding the giraffes, and Jake gulped. He knew in his heart that this was the start of something special.

As Charlie listened to the story, her misty eyes watched Savannah stomp away to her tent in a huff.

Morning broke, and with it, so did the silence.

Savannah shrieked and, based on the racket she was making, her tent was probably about to fall down too, if it hadn’t already.

Abby and Charlie shared a startled look and bolted from their tent. They hadn’t done anything. They figured having to listen to a romantic zoo proposal story had been enough torture for one night. But there Savannah was, screaming and shoving at her tent, which had seemingly collapsed on her.

“What the hell is going on here?” Jake shouted, his boots hitting the ground as he took in the sight. “Savannah, what is wrong with you?”

“They did this!” she screamed, a pink painted nail stabbing at Abby and Charlie. “I know they did!”

“Savannah—”

“No!” she shouted, whirling on him. “I know they put that chipmunk in my saddle bag. I know they put something itchy in my clothes. And I know that they made my tent fall down on top of me!”

Abby turned to her father. “We didn’t make the tent fall, Dad. I swear!”

“You see!” Savannah shrieked. “The little demon admits it!”

“Watch it!” Jake growled, stepping in front of Abby.

Charlie bent to look at the ground in front of Savannah’s collapsed tent. “There’s hoofprints here, Dad.” She followed the tracks over to where Angel stood, her reins dragging on the ground. A thin black fiber hung out of her mouth. The exact same colour as Savannah’s tent.

“You expect me to believe that a horse collapsed my tent?” Savannah seethed.

“It looks to be that way,” Jake replied icily. “Now, you owe my girls an apology.”

“An apology?” she laughed coldly. “You heard the little brat. She only denied collapsing my tent, which means she did the other things!” Savannah sneered at her. “I know you’re the British one. I can tell a fake accent a mile away. And let me tell you this. You showing up here was the worst day of my life. I never wanted to be a stepmother! I thought maybe I could handle one kid until I could convince you to send her to boarding school, but two? No one in their right mind would want to be a stepmother to two little brats!”

Jake stepped smoothly in between them, both Abby and Charlie huddled behind him as he faced his fiancée. “Who says I would’ve sent them to boarding school? They’re my girls.”

“I am your girl!” she shrieked. “ME! M.E.! And if you want to marry me, then you have to choose! Because I’m not playing second fiddle to two little she devils anymore! Got it?”

“Then…” Jake chuckled. “I choose them.”

“Excuse me?”

“T.H.E.M? Them. I choose my girls. Got it?”

Tags List: @jessicab1991

@waltermis

@buckysteveloki-me

@allepaula

@yuckosworld

@bradshawssugarbaby

@ahopelessromanticwritersworld

@kim-stark

@high-speed-r

@starsrfun

@tomanyfandomstrash

@averyhotchner

@the-blueatlas

@dashes-dizzydisaster

@a-girl-who-loves-disney

@boiolay

@djs8891

@tgmreader

@kmc1989

@landpiranha-blog

@sydthekid1518

@lynnevanss

@mackenzieblair

@minejungwoo

@starset21

@tgmavericklover

@dempy

@starkleila

@magical-spit

@whatislovevavy

@simplyreading96

@vivalas-vega

@itsdesiree86

@inky-sun

@books-are-escapes

@abaker74

@devil-angel-winchester

@mrs-perfectly-fine

@inthestars-underthesun

[mktskii]

—Coffee Confession

—Synopsis: Bakugou Katsuki, a student at the prestigious U.A. High, works part-time at a café, where he begrudgingly deals with annoying customers for some extra cash—until you show up. A new transfer from the States, you're still learning Japanese, and Bakugou, known for his tough attitude, surprisingly goes out of his way to make your favorite drink just right.

—Pairing: Barista!Bakugou Katsuki x AFAB!blk + interational!reader

—Genre: Slow-burn thats lowkey a bit fast-ish(?), Slice of Life, Quirkless AU

—Tags: Quirkless AU, café setting, crush to lovers, fluff, cutness, secret soft side, Bakugou being a cutie, cute confession, cultural differences, language barrier, reader from the states, UA high school.

Bakugou couldn’t believe it. Of all the part-time jobs he could've taken, he ended up working at a cafe. It wasn’t like he needed the money—he was already attending the most prestigious school in Japan, U.A. Academy, where future business leaders, innovators, and geniuses like him were trained. But a job was a job, and for some reason, the idea of working in a cafe didn’t seem all that bad. Plus, he liked money. Except for when they showed up.

"Hey, Bakugou!" A group of annoying guys he hated from U.A. strolled into the cafe. They were the type he despised—the overly popular, arrogant jocks that people gravitated to. Bakugou had beef with them for as long as he could remember. The day they beat him by a measly three points in that basketball game still burned in his brain. He took orders with his usual scowl, holding back the urge to shove them out the door. When they asked for caramel lattes, his mouth twitched in delight. He spoke without really thinking about it.

“We don’t have caramel today. Get something else, unless you want a regular latte,” he said, his tone dripping with venom.

The idiots groaned and, after a few minutes of begging him to check if he was absolutely sure it wasn't in stock, walked off. Bakugou was pleased.

But that’s when you stepped up to the counter. You, with your deep caramel skin and soft glow, looking like you were straight out of a painting. The way your tight curls framed your face, highlighting your striking almond-shaped eyes, made Bakugou freeze. He’d seen you around U.A. before—always asking for directions in broken Japanese, struggling to find your way. You weren’t like those other morons; you had a calm, almost serene aura that intrigued him. Just barely, though. But you always looked so lost, and now, here you were, clearly overwhelmed by the menu and situation.

You panicked a little, your fingers drumming against the counter as you tried to figure out what to order. "Um… sorry… give me a second," you stammered, your accent thick but your effort admirable. You had wanted a caramel latte, too.

Bakugou, normally impatient with customers, felt a strange pull to not be his usual rude self. He almost snapped, but he found himself biting his tongue. You were just… different.

“Take your time,” he said, almost too casually.

You looked up in surprise, probably expecting him to yell at you like he did to everyone else. Even you knew about his reputation by now. His face still held that signature scowl, and yet, behind his fiery eyes, there was something softer there. Something less abrasive. He watched you, trying not to let his face betray anything, but you, like most people, probably mistook his intense gaze for irritation. And sure, Bakugou looked pissed a lot, but this time, it wasn’t that. He was just... looking at you.

When you finally settled on a regular latte, you gave him your name. His friends, Sero, Kaminari, and Kirishima, finally showed up, ready to work, but Bakugou had already zoomed to make your drink himself. He even threw in some caramel for you, even though he'd just told the others they were out of stock. He could assume you wanted it, since the few times you'd come, he always heard you order it. Today was just his day. He's making it for you. You weren't one of those idiots he hated; you didn’t deserve the same treatment. Not that he liked you or anything. Definitely not. He just didn’t hate you.

“Here,” he said, handing you the latte, brushing off your confused look when you realized there was caramel in it.

"Didn't you say there wasn’t any caramel?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

Bakugou shrugged, handing it to you with a gruff, “Found some in the back.”

You smiled and nodded, seemingly grateful for the small gesture, and left the cafe. But then, you glanced at the name he’d written on your cup. You squinted, trying to decipher the kanji.

“‘Girl who takes too long to order’…?”

You couldn’t help but giggle. Despite his intimidating exterior, Bakugou had a funny, albeit slightly insulting, sense of humor. It didn’t stop there, though. Every time you came back, he wrote something different.

“Caramel latte for the caramel-looking girl.”

“Order for the nerdy brat.”

“Drink for the idiot who speaks trash Japanese.”

But each time, you only smiled and rolled your eyes, giving him a look that said, Really? He’d just shrug, smug as ever.

His friends noticed, of course. Kaminari figured it out first. "Dude, you totally like her," he teased one day when you weren’t around. Bakugou immediately punched him in the shoulder. Hard.

Every time you would come in, Bakugou glared at them, daring them to say something to you. Sero, being the linguist of the group, once tried to speak to you in English, and you looked so relieved and happy to finally understand someone that Bakugou nearly exploded from jealousy.

After that, he downloaded Duolingo, ready to tear that annoying green bird apart if it meant he could speak to you fluently. Learning English was a pain, but the thought of seeing that same smile you gave Sero was worth it. He needed to be the one to make you smile like that.

Not that he liked you or anything. No way. You were just… well, fine.

He liked you.

But Bakugou being Bakugou, he was really nervous to confess and act all lovey or whatever. That wasn’t his style. So, he kept up the insults, kept up the weird names on your cups, hoping you’d catch on eventually that they were slowly not so insulting anymore.

And then one day, after your usual order, you rushed out the door, clearly late for something. You didn’t have time to look at the cup until you were halfway down the street. You pulled it up to your face and read the label.

“‘Pretty girl I want to date.’”

You stopped dead in your tracks, heart pounding. Did you read that right? You glanced back at the cafe, feeling a rush of adrenaline. Before you knew it, you were running back, nearly knocking someone over in your hurry. You burst through the doors, slightly out of breath, and caught Bakugou’s eyes from across the counter.

He looked… devastated that he didn’t get to see your initial reaction. But when you stood there, staring at him with wide eyes, the hint of a blush on his cheeks gave him away.

It wasn’t the most conventional confession. But for Bakugou? It was perfect.

“Well? What’s your answer, dumbass?” he muttered, trying to hide how nervous he actually was.

You just smiled.

Reblogs and comments are appreciated <3

[personasintro]

Mutual Help | #33

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; in order for you to pretend to be his girlfriend, he helps you with your sexual desires ⏤ he calls it mutual help

⇢ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jungkook x reader

⇢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fake dating au, fluff, angst, smut, slow burn

⇢ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: explicit language, mature content

⇢ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5.9k+

⇠ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯. | 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ⇢ 

December rolls quickly, along with the first snow of the year coating buildings' roofs and the roads. As much as you were excited when you saw the first snowflakes dropping from the sky and melting right away, with your troublesome car it has become inconvenient. You pray every morning that your car's battery isn't dead or there won't be any other trouble waiting for you the second you sit into the car.

Snow has been one of the few things, your favorite things, you appreciate about winter. You don't like the cold that much, wearing too many layers of clothing that it becomes hard to move in, it never has appealed to you that much. Christmas, the family holiday that is approaching very closely, is a part of your favorite things in and about winter. Which reminds you you should buy presents sooner than two days before Christmas like you did last year.

You're planning to go back to your hometown, obviously spending a family holiday with none other than your own family. And even though you've in mind what to get to your parents, you've no idea what to get to Jungkook. You know him, knowing what he likes and does in his free time but fuck, it's so hard to buy him something. The man is successful enough to buy anything he likes, and he does enjoy expensive things. Things you probably can't afford with your bills and additional expenses for your car. The bar pays well, in three months or so, you'll be able to actually look around for a better car. And although you know if Jungkook heard your thoughts and struggles about his Christmas gift, he'd assure you not to buy him anything. But you can't exactly do that, can you?

Coincidentally, the mentioned man is right in front of you in his natural habitat and by that, you mean doing one of the things he loves most. Taking pictures. Apparently Junho has been so pleased with the outcome of Jungkook's pictures he provided for the company last month, that he has decided to call him over again. This time Jungkook prepared you for his presence, not forgetting to point out that Junho must like him since he called him personally and asked him to do today's photoshoot.

Poor women are in their bikinis, just a casual set of beige bikinis, nothing too sexy, probably freezing even though there are a set of heaters around them to keep them warm. Jungkook is making sure to work quickly, you notice the way he eyes the women with worried eyes when he sees one of them shiver slightly.

Although you've seen Jungkook taking pictures countless times, there's something different seeing him doing it while actually working. It's not for fun or his personal interest, he's working while being professional. You're not blind, seeing models eyeing the young photographer with tattoos on display while they suddenly don't mind the cold that much is somehow relatable. However, you're not freezing and you're behind the scenes of it all, but still having a perfect view of Jungkook's back. Even from the place you're standing, you can notice his arms flexing each time he pulls up the camera and takes a few shots. With each model he's done, doing solo but couple shots as well, he starts reviewing the pictures with a prominent and focused frown.

"Is it just me or it's suddenly hot in here?"

Glancing at your co-worker, you see him fan his face before he gives you an obvious mischievous smirk.

"The heaters do an amazing job." you comment, straightening yourself as you hand a fluffy robe to one of the models that walks to Jungkook, looking at the pictures he has taken of her.

You notice the way she stands right behind him, making sure her chest brushes against his shoulder but Jungkook being a total gentleman and too busy working, he apologizes softly and gives her more space by scooting a little. You suppress a snort that wants to get out but Yoongi is quicker, his own snort sounding beside you. The only difference is, his reaction isn't aimed at what you just saw but on your very own comment.

"I'd say your boyfriend does an amazing job." he muses, earning a glare from you because obviously, he's doing and saying it just to get on your nerves.

He knows he's not your boyfriend, he even knows he was never one in the first place. You're still not sure how he knows that, it feels like one second he was determined that you and Jungkook are a real thing and the other he already knew the truth. Of course, you realize you've told him when he kept being annoying but still... you can't believe he knows.

"Are you trying to get on my nerves, Min?" you murmur, clearing your throat while staring ahead at the staff preparing the studio for another photoshoot.

"I thought I already got on your nerves." he says innocently, feigning innocence of course. There's no way this man is innocent or is capable of anything like that.

You look at the watch that hugs your wrists, aware of Yoongi's eyes on you knowing he's waiting for your reaction. Surely, you could just ignore him but where's the fun in that?

"Just two more hours." Is all you say, sighing underneath your breath knowing very well he hears you.

Two more hours and then he won't be getting on your nerves. Somehow, you've slowly grown resistant to his remarks and they don't piss you off as much. However, that doesn't mean he doesn't piss you off at all. He does. A lot.

"You're not getting rid of me that easily, grumpy."

Grumpy. Yes, somehow that became your nickname. You do have to admit, you're grumpy whenever Yoongi is around but that's completely not your fault. The person at fault is standing right beside you and calls you that stupid nickname. One thing you learned about Yoongi is, the less you react the more he lets you breathe.

"Two hours and then I'm out." you remind him of your actual working schedule but all he does is smirk in return.

"Hmm, we'll see about that." he hums, causing your brows to pinch in confusion and before you can question him, Sophia, one of your co-workers calls out for him to help her with something.

He grumbles but moves his legs across the room to help her with whatever she starts telling him. Junho calls out for a short break, reminding everyone that it's only a fifteen minute break and then everyone is going back to work.

The models wear their robes quickly, going to one of the dressing rooms to prepare for the next photoshoot while you reach for your already cold tea, slowly sipping on it. You notice Jungkook putting down his camera on the table, beside the laptop and a set of cables before he makes his way towards you.

There's a glint of amusement in his eyes which you recognize immediately. "I don't think I've ever seen you so annoyed like when you're next to that guy." he jokes, sitting on one of the stools in the back of the room as you join him, sitting beside him.

You follow his vision of eyes, noticing he's looking at Yoongi who sports the same frown as he grumbles something under his breath. "He likes to annoy me, that's why. I've to hold myself from punching him in the face, Junho would have me fired if I ever did such a thing." you grumble, causing Jungkook to glance at you as he tries to recognize if you're all serious or partly joking.

In this case you're partly joking. You're not a violent person, even when it comes to annoying a human being such as Yoongi. You wouldn't actually hurt him, but you do imagine punching him sometimes. It eases your mind whenever he has one of his famous remarks.

"Is he treating you badly?" Jungkook asks, frowning while he sends a glare to completely oblivious Yoongi across the room, ready to fight him if you tell on him.

You chuckle, shaking your head. "Calm down, you hero. He's just annoying, that's all. He helped me to find a job at the bar, he's the one whose brother owns it. He is annoying but he's not a bad person. Fuck, I hope no one heard me right now." you mutter, jokingly looking at Jungkook as he snorts.

"Maybe he likes you." Jungkook shrugs after a moment while grinning at you teasingly, eyes glancing back at Yoongi.

You let out an ugly snort, looking around to see if someone heard you. Thank God, no one did, besides Jungkook but he's used to your weird and ugly noises.

"He probably likes you more than me." you state, earning a confused look from Jungkook.

Before another word can be uttered between you two, Junho comes rushing back into the studio, ushering everyone to get back to their places. Jungkook looks at his expensive watch, glancing at you with even bigger confusion than from your previous words.

"Five minutes only passed." he informs you while you almost snicker at the innocence of his features and the soft voice.

It's usual Junho gives everyone a break but shortens it himself when he feels like it. There's no explanation for that, just describing how big of an asshole he truly is.

"Welcome to my world." you chime, standing up from your seat while Jungkook pouts at the short break but follows you nevertheless.

Perhaps Yoongi is annoying co-worker, but Jungkook's presence does bring at least some kind of comfort even though he barely has the time to speak to you. However, whenever there is time he always makes sure to stop by and chat with you, ignoring the heart eyes from the literal young models just so he can talk to you.

Working in a bar has become essential to your daily life. Sure, you're working your ass off to be able to get yourself a better car and you wish your Saturdays and sometimes Sundays would be free, but you can't really complain about the job itself. You were a little worried at first, not knowing what to expect because the thought of you working in a bar full of horny and sweaty people didn't sound that appealing. It still doesn't. But everyone is so nice, Mark has been a huge help and a support, praising your work even in front of Yejun which is always nice since he's the boss.

Sometimes he'd help at the bar, making a small chat with you to question your contentment with the job. He's more around than you thought he'd be, considering he's owning this club and has employees for almost everything. Even just from the two months you're working here, you could notice how much this place means to him. Yeah, it's a club but it doesn't mean it's dirty business or something. According to Mark, his parents weren't too happy with Yejun investing all his money to make this club what it is today. He started from scratch, risking a lot if you must say.

Mark gives you a wave when he sees you entering the club, later than usual which you hope nobody will scold you for, and you quickly wave him back making your way to the dressing room. Good thing is you managed to take a nap before you came here, resulting in you sleeping longer than you were planning. In the middle of your deep slumber, you somehow managed to turn off the alarm that you reliably set on to make sure you don't sleep over. Of course, you did. Only for you to snap your eyes open when you suspiciously slept for a long time.

You nod at the bouncer sitting at a bar, waiting for the opening hours which starts in less than ten minutes before you barge into the dressing room.

For a moment you completely ignore another presence in the room, rushing yourself to get ready as soon as possible but knowing Mark and everyone else seems to be already getting things around the club ready, your eyes snap at the person shutting one of the lockers.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," you gasp, eyes widening at the sight of smirking Yoongi wearing white shirt with club's logo (which everyone who works as a bartender here is wearing) with black jeans and some white sneakers. "What are you doing here?"

You're speechless, not understanding his sudden presence or the fact he's wearing the club's attire.

"I told you you're not gonna get rid of me that easily," he muses, obviously pleased with your reaction because he's that evil. "My brother is away and asked me to help out a bit."

You're slightly caught off guard hearing him explain his reason behind being here, you thought he would care less to give you an explanation. Nodding, you let the door shut behind you with a louder bang as you warily stare at him.

"What?" he barks. You're not surprised by his reaction at this point, expecting it. He's not the only one who gets on your nerves. You can do the same thing.

Opening your locker, you hide your grin behind it as you pull out your working attire. As you shut the locker, you look at him with a raised brow. "Do you mind? I've to change." you tell him sweetly, battling your eyelashes at him as he stares at you with a frown.

He doesn't look too shocked, but you know he's surprised by the sweetness of your voice. He expected you to bark back. Thus, that's why you haven't done it. Just when you think you got him, a pleased smirk about to curve on your lips, you watch his own lips to do the same before you can.

"Ah," he pouts, "You won't give me a show?" He even has the audacity to eye your body, mockingly chuckling at the sweatpants you're wearing.

In your defense, you've worn something comfortable knowing you'll change your clothes in the club anyway. And the sweatpants are nice and like you said, comfortable. Okay, maybe with the black winter jacket you're wearing you may look like you're about to take the trash out, but that's completely irrelevant.

"Get out." you mutter through gritted teeth, seeing him beam you with a pleased smile.

"Gladly." he sings out, waving you off as he leaves you in the dressing room alone.

When the door shut, you shake your head with a snicker escaping past your lips. You've no idea how you'll make it tonight without actually killing him. Being with him during the day is one thing but being with him after it is another.

Surprisingly, when the club opens and everyone starts working, Yoongi minds his own business and is actually doing an amazing job at managing the club and replacing his brother. Even everyone out of your co-workers seems to be thrilled that Yoongi is here.

"Mark, can you grab the kitchen wipes from the back?" Yoongi yells at Mark who's on the other side of the bar with two more barmen.

He looks at Yoongi immediately, nodding while a soft blush spreads on his cheeks. You can notice it even from the distance and in such lightning. He even smiles shyly in Yoongi's way before he scurries away to the storage room.

You're wiping the counter, stealing a glance at Yoongi who's already looking at you with a grin. "What?"

"What was that?" You don't beat around the bush, voicing out your curiosity as you can't help but smirk at remembering Mark's shy face. You've never seen him being so shy and Yoongi is obviously the reason why he reacted that way.

"We hooked up a few times." he shrugs, revealing the information freely to you as you choke up on your spit, eyes widening.

You stop wiping the counter, turning yourself to Yoongi who has an amused grin on his face. "You--you two hooked up?" You'd never guess it.

"Is that so hard to believe?" he asks, pursing his lips in amusement as he takes the wipe that got neglected by you and starts wiping the rest of the counter.

"No, I... I'm just surprised. I'd have never guessed that you and Mark... are you dating?"

You wouldn't admit it out loud, but Yoongi seems like a mystery to you. You know him but you don't. Every little information about him is interesting and that's because you're so damn curious.

"No, I don't date." he chuckles, finishing wiping as he tosses the wipe into the bin.

"Isn't that what people usually say? And then they'll fall in love with someone and change their opinion about dating?" you muse amusingly, hearing him chuckle as he shakes his head.

"I'm not against dating. It's just not my thing but I don't rule it out." he answers, surprising you by the honesty in his voice.

There are times when the two of you are civil and can actually talk to each other without any bickering, or something that would cause the two of you to be irritated with each other.

You nod, sighing as you look at the busy crowd. You don't comment any further, you already got enough of an answer and your mind is preoccupied by the sight in front of you. The dance floor is filled with sweaty bodies and everybody humping each other, which isn't quite an unexpected view but you also don't let your eyes drift elsewhere like usual. You look at the young couple, dancing near the bar, in their own world as they look like they're five seconds from fucking. You can't see the guy's face clearly but you can tell he's well built and obviously knows how to move. The girl he's dancing with is pressed against his chest with her back, grinding her ass into him while he holds her tightly, lips brushing her ear.

You gulp, looking away with red cheeks when you realize you've been staring at them. You've never missed sex that much like you'd go crazy if you haven't had it, but you've already experienced what it feels like to be sexually frustrated. However, there was Jungkook who helped you with that at that time but he's not available to do that anymore. Unfortunately, your hands don't do much and even though the shower head can bring you at least some kind of orgasm, it's nothing mind blowing. Jungkook literally ruined your sexlife because even you are not enough to make yourself feel good.

He has shown you how good you can enjoy yourself and now there are times when you think about all the times he pounded you to the mattress. It's wrong to think this about your best friend, you two are no longer hooking up. You both act like it has never happened in the first place. You're glad you were able to go back to just being best friends who don't fuck each other. It hasn't been weird between you which you're thankful for. None of you do a big deal out of it and you've no idea when this sudden frustration is coming from. Okay, maybe it's not sudden. Jungkook isn't only attractive but brought the best orgasms to you. It would be a sin to forget what you experienced with him in bed (or anywhere else he has taken you).

"Is there someone you like?"

Your thoughts fade away as soon as you hear Yoongi, met with a cocky smirk. Fuck, of course he enjoyed you eyeing the couple.

You look back at the couple before you realize what you're doing, seeing the guy interweaving their fingers as he leads her out of the club. Great, at least someone is getting laid.

"No," you answer, looking at Yoongi who takes a gulp of his water bottle. "Not at all." you murmur, avoiding his grin that he's trying to cover with the bottle while he's drinking.

Ignoring the fact Yoongi has caught you staring at the couple, you hear him chuckle. "You can go home."

You raise your brows in surprise, glancing at the small clock to see you still have half an hour to work. "You sure?" you ask, head tilting towards the crowded dance floor.

It's half past eleven and your shift ends at midnight. One of the things you appreciate about working in this bar and Yejun as a boss, you both agreed you won't be working until closing time which is around two in the morning, if it's not completely necessary. This way you get to earn some money but still get enough sleep.

"Don't make me repeat it," he murmurs and rolls his eyes, before he stares at you with a grin. "Yeah, Tania is supposed to come in a few minutes,"

Tania, one of the other bartenders you still haven't met yet. You remember Yejun and Mark mentioning her once but that's it. She usually comes after midnight and helps around the bar until it's closing time.

As much as you wish to lay in your bed and rest your eardrums that shake from the loud music, you need the money and Saturdays are the only days you can work. You usually keep your Sundays free, considering you've got your job on Monday and even though you need money, you still need a rest too.

Yoongi notices your hesitation, probably knowing the reason behind it. "I won't tell anyone, you'll still get paid as if you stayed until midnight." he says, noticing the way your face lights up but then you look at him with a suspicious frown.

"This won't backfire at me, right?"

He laughs, actually laughs as his shoulders shake while he shakes his head at your absurdity. Well, he can't blame you for being suspicious about him being good and doing you a favor without you even asking for it.

"Believe it or not, I'm not that evil." he says, an amused grin spreads on his lips as you think it through.

Fuck it. You're tired and Yoongi is the boss now (not that you'd tell him that), it'd just boost his ego.

"Okay, thank you." you tell him, seeing him giving you a nod as he waves you before one of the customers is ready to order drinks, stealing his attention.

Freshly showered and wrapped in your soft sheets, you toss around for like a hundredth time causing you to groan in frustration. You've been yawning ever since you laid into bed but can't seem to sleep. Somehow, your mind doesn't let you and thinks it's better for you to stare at the dark ceiling or toss around. No matter how many times you do that, your body doesn't find the comfortable position to fall asleep in and your mind keeps drifting to the time when you didn't have to worry about not getting enough pleasure. Jungkook has always made sure your needs were taken care of. And fuck, it's so wrong for you to think about him or the time you got to spend together (time when he fucked you, so all that left your mouth were moans and hs name). But you can't help it, your mind keeps going back to him and you let the memories replay.

Memories of him touching you, tasting you and stretching you with his thick length. You remember tasting him for the first time, intimidated by his size before it all went away as soon as you tasted him. It was so hard to get him to let out a sound of pleasure, making you think you're not doing that great job at it. But then you let him fuck your throat, him being the first to have the privilege to do that and fuck, was he excited to. Or the time he spanked you and warned you when you forgot to count how many spanks he gave to your already red ass cheeks. You find yourself thinking about him letting his fingers slide into your heat while you were taking a shower, or all the explicit things he used to say to all the time. Jungkook is sex on legs, that much you're certain. He wouldn't even touch you between your thighs to get you aroused and all wet for him. His mouth and words coming out of it were just enough.

Yearning for someone else's touch (or specifically Jungkook's but you'd never admit that, not even to yourself) it's not that hard for you to get the wetness pool between your legs. You shift uncomfortably, wondering if this is the right time to touch yourself when you know your fingers aren't enough. Another idea pops in your head, your teeth nibbling onto your lower lip as you think it through. You said to yourself you'd never do that, not alone because you insisted on not needing that. But the temptation and the wetness uncomfortably spreading over your pajama pants persuades you.

Groaning, you toss away the blanket and turn on your night lamp. Your legs move on their own and you're already getting out of bed, crouching in front of it to pull out the box you've hidden there. You stare at it, remembering when Jungkook handed it to you like it was yesterday.

You remember when Jungkook sneaked it into your travel bag once you've stayed over at his place. You didn't have to wonder what's in the box because how could you forget? His number was quickly speed dialed and you waited for him to pick up, barely letting him to greet you as you bombarded him with questions. He had the audacity to laugh and inform you he cleaned the toy since the last time you've used it, no... since the last time he has used it on you. You grumbled something along the lines he's stupid for thinking you'll use it.

If he could see you right now, crouching on your bedroom floor and opening the box, he'd certainly feel all too smug about being right.

The toy looks just like new, no trace of being used before. You're stupid. What else have you expected? Your cum dried on it? You cringe at your own thoughts, feeling slightly embarrassed as you take it into your hand and press on the button, jumping in shock when the toy comes to life. It keeps vibrating in your hands, the soft buzzing sound making the tip of your ears red. You turn it off, gulping at the sight of it because it's almost too identical to Jungkook's own dick.

"Fuck it," you whisper to yourself, hopping back on bed with the toy in your hand. You shimmy out of your pajamas, glad for the heating being turned on so you're not cold. It'll take a moment for your body to warm itself from the arousal.

Placing the toy beside you, you make yourself comfortable as you start by cupping your breasts. Your hands are small, way smaller than Jungkook's and the touch doesn't do much. Sighing, you don't let it discourage you as you trail your hand between your legs, while the other one pinches your nipple. Your fingers circle your clit, imagining they're not yours but it's not that easy. You're surprised how wet you already are, the months of absence from sex taking its tool on you and even though you're much more sensitive now, it doesn't do much. You retrieve your hands off your body, reaching for the toy. Nobody's got the time for this bullshit when you feel yourself not being that aroused from it. You bring the toy back to life, the buzzing still makes you slightly embarrassed which causes you to chuckle at your absurdity. People do this all the time. Why the fuck are you so weird about this? It's just Jungkook's stupid head and face popping up in your mind and the fact he ordered this for you. Best friend in the world for sure.

You let the toy press against your clit, a shivered breath leaving your mouth as you feel the first vibrations of the sextoy. You press it harder, circling it over the sensitive bud as you hear the wet sounds of your juices meeting the toy. Doing this for a couple of minutes, you quickly grow bored and not as aroused as at the beginning, so you decide to let the tip slide into you. It feels good but not what you expected. You don't give up and start pushing the toy deeper, barely halfway before you pull it away. It's not that bad. You repeat the process, pumping the pink vibrator while it vibrates against your walls.

Surprisingly, you even let out a couple of hushed moans while you try to roll your hips into the toy, but that's it. You try taking more of it or even quickening the pace, nor touching your breasts or clit helps that much. So, you shamefully think about the times Jungkook fucked you so hard he made you see stars. The sound of his body colliding with yours is almost distant, sounds so explicit that used to make you wet even more. Or you remember when the two of you fought and then had sex. He slowed down his usual feral and rushed pace, muttered with his deep and raspy voice how good you feel and how sorry he is. It was slow but intense just as much, full of emotions where you could feel how sorry he is without him even saying it, even though he made sure he said it. You do this for a few more minutes before you come to the conclusion you won't orgasm like this. It doesn't feel better, even worse as you feel yourself not being that aroused or wet. You're not Jungkook and he's not here. Pulling out the toy, you throw it onto bed frustratedly as you let out a groan.

"Fuck," you curse, rubbing your palms over your face. Just as arousal came, it leaves and leaves you disappointed all over again. "Fucking Jeon, what have you done to me?" you mutter, voice muffled by your palms.

He showed you there is possibly no one who could fuck you better. Not even yourself. That's what he has done to you.

Starting your Monday by being back to work and having to make constant phone calls has busied you enough to the point, you don't think about the Saturday failure of trying to make yourself orgasm. Probably your biggest fail this year, if not of your entire life and that speaks volume.

"That's a wrap for today, guys!" Junho claps his hands, showing one of his rare smiles while everyone seems more than revealed by the information. You can't blame them, the very few people from stuff that have decided to work overtime have been here since the early morning. You included, since one of the companies in Japan that holds a fashion show every year has asked for a collaboration with your company, wanting some of the models from the agency.

Junho had been more than eager to jump at the opportunity, nor you can blame him. Some of these people in this very room came all the way from Japan, just to make sure they're present and met everyone which could've been easily done through a video chat like you'd expect them to do. They pleasantly surprised you, proved to be professional and very kind like it's been said about them.

You listen to Junho voicing out his appreciation, which surely is just his tactic to kiss your new business partners' asses, thanking everyone while you're packing your stuff like the rest of the people in the room do, praying he'll shut up soon. You even notice some raised eyebrows coming from your co-workers at Junho's forced politeness and kindness which, to be honest, wants you to let out an amused snicker.

"Be careful everyone, the roads are crazy right now." he says at the end, which makes you look out of the window and notice the snow hasn't eased that much since this morning. It's noticeable even in the darkness of Monday's evening.

Whether his words are honest or not, it's still nice he pointed that out.

As much as you love snow and when it's snowing, you can't find much joy in removing the snow off your car. Once you finally get to your car, you're freezing your ass off while you pray your engine will start working. You haven't had that much problem with it, a few times Yoongi had to come to your rescue while he kept grumbling under his breath but nevertheless, he helped you. It wasn't for free, you're not that heartless to let him help you just like that. You made sure to bring him his Iced Americano a few times, even in December because apparently, he doesn't give a fuck and loves it even in this season. However, Yoongi is already back at home, or wherever he went after his shift ended. To say it this way, if you'll have trouble with the engine again, you would have to ask one of the people that are coming out of the company anyway and pray there'll be someone able to help you, or you'd have to call one of your friends to rescue you.

Luckily, the sound of your engine starting and working is probably one of the nicest things of today and you let out a relieved sigh. Setting up the radio, you put on your playlist called 'chill drive' which you created purposely for reasons when you're driving. You don't forget to turn the heating on, hoping it'll do its job before you can actually make it home, otherwise your ass will really freeze.

You drive out of the parking lot, listening to music while humming the soft and melodic tune as you drive onto the road. You're being careful, driving slower than usual which probably annoys the rest of drivers but you could care less. Other drivers probably don't care about their safety or the safety of others as they speed up through the roads while it keeps snowing, the snow practically pouring from the sky. You keep the speed steady, more comfortable once you make it out of the streets and drive through a long driveway with three lanes.

You're focused, your eyes on the road while you listen to a soft and melodic voice humming in the background. And you've no idea how it happens because one minute you're sure nothing could go wrong but then the car, that's been driving fast and is in front of you, suddenly stops at the red light. Your legs automatically press the brakes but your car weirdly shifts on the snowy road and you make a mistake by taking your leg off the brakes. The issue is that you panic, aware of the state your car has been lately and you feel the steering wheel turning under your fingers. You barely have any control of it, trying to hold it tightly while you press the breaks fast again. In a split second, your car is moving to the side and it spins, the side of your head harshly meeting the window.

And the other second you feel the impact of your head and glass colliding.

[harlowsbby]

Morning Routines

“I can’t believe I’m up this early.” Jack groaned and leaned against the countertop in your shared bathroom.

“You said you wanted to get up with me.” You laughed and handed him his toothbrush as well as your toothbrush before putting toothpaste on it.

Ever since you did your nighttime routine with Jack he’s been trying to wake up to do your morning routine with you and since he had a few days off he decided to wake up today and do it with you which he knew he’d regret soon enough.

“So what do you usally do first? Besides brushing your teeth.” He asked and placed down his toothbrush once he was finished brushing his teeth.

“Usually I’d take a shower but I already did that last night so I usually drive over to Starbucks and get some coffee.” He nodded.

“Sounds easy enough.” You smirked. “But you’re gonna be ordering my drink for me instead.” He groaned because you knew you did the most when it came to your orders.

“Babe, you know you have the most complicated orders right?”

You rolled your eyes and grabbed your jacket and slippers and headed outside to Jack’s car.

“You wanted to be apart of my morning routine so stop nagging and let’s go.” You told him and got inside the car.

“I just know I’m going to regret this.” He mumbled to himself and got inside the car, on the drive there you had told him your order.

The entire time Jack made sure to repeat your order over and over again in his head but when he pulled up to the speaker box it was if the entire order was no longer memorizable.

“Welcome to Starbucks, what can I get for you today?” The lady sweetly asked. Jack looked at you and back at the speaker box and gulped he had no idea what he was getting.

“Can I get a.. can I get shit.” You covered your mouth to stop yourself from laughing.

“I’m sorry sir but we don’t have that here.” The lady joked making Jack’s cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

“I’m sorry, can I get a strawberry latte iced coffee.” You looked at him as if he had three heads.

“Jack, you’re kidding right? What even is that.” His eyes went wide. “I mean no I don’t want that.” He quickly told the lady.

“Do you need a minute sir?” The lady spoke.

“No it’s okay I think I got it now.” He quickly turned back to you.

“Babe, can you repeat your order.” You decided to give him a break and leaned over him a bit to give the lady your order.

“I just need a iced white mocha with sweet cold foam please.”

“And what size?”

“A grande please and thank you.”

“Alright we’ll see you at the window.” Lady said.

Jack’s cheeks were red from embarrassment as he pulled forward. “I have a feeling you enjoyed watching me struggle.” He stated.

“I did but it was very cute that you tried.” You coo’d.

Once you got your drink the two of you headed back come where you usually played music and started cleaning up the house.

“Separate your clothes from my clothes and make sure the whites and separated from the colors.” You were putting Jack on laundry duty. “Why can’t I wash everything together? Wouldn’t that make it much more easier.” He asked.

“Jack, are you being serious right now? If you put white clothing with colored clothing it’ll turn the whites all different types of colors especially with the pink and red clothing.”

“You know if you help me it’ll make this entire process go even faster.” You huffed. “I don’t get help when you’re out on tour or at the studio all day, I have to do this all alone and so can you.”

“Well what are you going to do?” He asked and you smiled. “I need to catch up on a few shows so when you’re done you’ll know where to find me.” You palce a kiss on his lips and went into the living room.

He stood there in disbelief for a few seconds but nonetheless started working on the laundry when he was finally done he groaned at how stiff his muscles left.

“Baby, I’m done with the laundry I’m hungry you wanna go get some food.” When you didn’t answer he made his way into the living room.

“Bab-.” He stopped talking when he saw your sleeping form on the couch. A bag of now empty chips laid on your chest.

He smiled and shook his head at you. “You’re something else you know that.” He whispered to himself and removed the bag of chips and placed a blanket over you.

Although Jack would never admit it, he actually enjoyed spending time with you and learning your little routines that make you, you.

(This is kinda like a sequel type thing from the night routines I did, idk where I was going with this but I hope you like it 😭💘)

[sapphicmsmarvel]

Modern!Azriel: "too much"

lol i’m projecting in this one. this is how my extended family has always made me feel so 🤷🏻‍♀️

tw: not eating due to anxiety.

-You kept Azriel hidden from your extended family for three years. 

-You truly did not have much association with them. They were kind but not loving towards you. 

-Your parents knew of him as well as the two cousins you were closest with that actually loved you. 

-About a year in, you and Azriel had the talk about your extended family. 

At first, Azriel was kind of hurt by it. He brought you around his family. His chosen and blood when he had to. 

-Your first major argument was about you keeping him away from your family. 

“Are you embarrassed by me?” His voice cracked. 

“What? No! This isn’t about you, Azriel.” You sighed. 

“Then what is it? Are you freaking out about commitment to something?” 

“I just don’t want to bring you around them!” You cried. 

“Why?” 

“It doesn’t matter.” You crossed your arms. 

“Yes it does! Clearly something is bothering you. I cannot rest until I know what it is, Y/N.” He sighed. “I feel like I’m back in high school and my girlfriend is embarrassed to be seen with me.” 

That’s when your tears broke. You didn’t cry often. It took a while before you felt safe enough to do so in front of him. 

“I just…” You wiped your eyes and sniffed. “I’m really scared to bring you around them because I don’t want one of the few good things in my life to be tainted by them.” 

His silence spurred you on. “I don’t want you to be chased away.” 

“Baby,” He sighed. He walked to where you were in the dining room and leaned against the table in front of you. His legs spread, he put his hands on that plush waist he loves so much, and pulled you towards him. “I don’t want to push you, I’m sorry my insecurity got the better of me. But, you do see where I'm coming from, yes?” 

You sniffed and nodded, “I’d feel the same. I’m sorry I didn’t communicate properly.” 

“You were scared.” He justified it for you. 

“So were you a few minutes ago.” You nudged his shoulder. “If you’re going to validate me, I'm going to validate you.” 

“Two people pleasers in a relationship huh?” He chuckled. 

“That’s why we’re working on communication.” You brought your hands up to his broad shoulders. “Can we talk about this tonight? I just need to organize my thoughts a bit before….” You struggled to find the right words. “Ugh let me start over.” You sighed. 

He couldn’t help his smile, his girl was trying so hard. “I want to be able to eloquently tell you what's going on. It’s not you, it’s not even me, well kind of since I’m not letting you around them. But, they are a big issue.” 

“Okay, I’ll order our favorite takeout and we can talk about it when we’re eating. Is 20 minutes enough to help you get your thoughts together?” 

“Yeah.” You smiled, he wasn’t judging you. He was accepting you. Your neurodivergency and the way your mind worked. He kissed your forehead and went off to order the food. He knew your order by heart. 

-So when you guys got your food, you began to tell the story. How you were never “one of them” despite growing up with them. You were always left out and kids were mean. Then you came out as queer, which didn’t help being left out. Everyone looked at you weird. 

He knew better than anyone how it felt to be left out and hurt by your blood relatives. Granted, completely different situations however both are valid situations. 

He assured you he wasn’t upset at you, he was upset for you. He then told you how he would wait patiently. A couple of times, you almost got enough courage to do it. But then chickened out and just stayed home with him. You never went to those gatherings without someone. To be frank, you preferred Azriel’s company. 

-So when you finally took the plunge it was terrifying. 

-It was your aunt's birthday, a week before thanksgiving. You told them about him, they were all shocked to say the least that you had a partner and had had one for three years. 

-Then you got the normal guilt trip of “why didn’t you say something sooner?” or  “why didn’t you bring him” 

-Not “what’d i do to make you feel unsafe telling me this?” But that’s besides the point. 

-So the next week, you brought him to thanksgiving. 

-Your family was shocked to say the least. 

-That the loudest, vulgar, weird person in their family got the quietest, kindest man. 

-Azriel knew how you felt about this part of the family. You had always felt left out, like you weren’t good enough. You were ostracized as a child from them because you were different. 

-You were the only cousin that wasn’t baptized. Which made you different enough. But you’d rather think for yourself and your parents raised you without religion so you could choose your own path. 

-You cussed, you had tattoos, piercings. You wore clothes you were comfortable in which meant yeah, sometimes you wore a tank top that showed a bit of boobs. You wore all black as well. Also you were the plus size family member and you were queer. So that didn’t help the “fitting in” aspect. 

-He wore a nice black henley and black jeans. As well as his boots. He wanted to make a nice impression even though you told him that he could show up naked and you wouldn’t care. 

-He would. He wasn’t modest but he’d rather not have his future in-laws seeing his ‘monster cock’ as you called it. 

-God, he genuinely loved your vulgarity. 

-He knew how nervous you were, he knew you’d barely eat anything just because of sheer anxiety. His goal was to make sure you ate some appetizers or something.  

-When you walked in, you could tell your family was just floored by him. He greeted everyone with the proper “Mr.” and “Mrs/Ms/Miss.” He shook everyone's hands, smiled at your baby cousins who knew nothing of the strange man but were comfortable enough to wave at him. 

The entire time, he had a hand on your waist. Showing he’s on your side. 

-You warned him that your family was going to eventually get him alone to talk to him about you to which he responded with “let them.” 

They weren’t pissing him off too much. He didn’t like the way some of them were around you. Like you were someone to avoid. When he knew that you were the safest person in the room to any stranger, let alone him. 

”I’m sure sometimes she can be overwhelming.” Your aunt said as if it was a fun little tidbit. But he knew it was a jab. 

If smiles could kill, Azriel’s could’ve maimed her. “Actually she’s perfect.” He let his guard down enough to look at you across the room with your cousins, a lovestruck look on his face. “If she’d let me, I’d marry her tomorrow.” 

Your family was clearly surprised. You had never brought anyone around and now you bring this guy for the first time and he’s ready to marry you? 

-Throughout the day, he kept trying to get you to come out of your shell a bit. 

-When he made you snort in laughter, he let out his first real smile all day. Let these assholes see how happy you make him. 

-Then he noticed your elderly family member glaring at your tattoos. She was caught by Azriel and had the decency to have a look on her face like “can you blame me?” To which he smiled and rolled up his sleeves to show off his ink. 

She had the decency to look embarrassed. 

-Your family quickly began to see a real side of you. One that’s comfortable in her space enough to lean on someone. That someone was Azriel.

-Shortly after the meal, you two left. Claiming you had to go to Azriel’s mothers. They didn’t need to know that you had thanksgiving with her and the whole chosen family the day before. 

-You were finally able to relax when the door shut to the car. You two began the drive back home to the city. 

-You snuggled into him over the center console. Your arm wrapped around his bicep as he drove. You sighed, completely content and he kissed your temple while keeping his eyes on the road. 

“Thank you.” You whispered. 

“What for?” 

“Just…loving me as I am.” 

“You should not feel the need to thank me for that.” He said. 

“Well I am. So deal with it.” You huffed, but you kissed his arm through his shirt. “You’re never embarrassed of me, you take me in stride and love me as if I’m…” You trailed off. “Irreplaceable.” 

“You are.” He said so earnestly that you almost weeped. You squeezed him tighter. “You make me feel so happy, so….loved. I’ve never felt so loved. Those people are fools for not seeing how incredible you are.” 

You felt your eyes getting misty. “You’re so getting head tonight.” You whispered. 

He let out a loud, sharp laugh of surprise. Yeah, he was in it forever. 

[ice-cream-writes-stuff]

Interference vs Difference

|PT1| |PT2|

JJK / Reader

{After being isekaied into Jujutsu Kaisen, you expected to be winthin the main storyline. Instead... You're in the past!? Far past...}

-

Not even caring on which horse you placed your hard earned money on, you run after the tall male.

"Train me!"

You shout excitedly, stepping closer to the bigger male.

The older man blinks at you, taken aback by your strange approach.

"Hah..?"

He smirks at you, leaning close.

" "Train you"..? Pfft-"

The, "Sorcerer Killer", laughed in your face.

Undetered, you hold up your arms, flexing them to your best abilty. "See! I'm strong!"

The elder Fushiguro sighs at your oddness, shaking his head. "Sorry, I'm not training some Sorcerer brat who doesn't even look qualified to be one." Toji rolled his eyes at you, walking away further down the row of seats in the stadium.

Unwavering, you follow close behind like a duckling.

Ticked off at your presence, he sneared at you. "Quit while your ahead, I'd rather not kill some stupid girl on my day off."

"No, I wanna' be trained by you!" You sqwaked again, undetered stomping closer.

Toji laughed bitterly, taking a seat, glancing at the track. "Why's that?" He mocked, disinterested.

"Because I... I want to change the future." You state, straightening up to look more assured than you felt.

"And you think seeking me out is gonna' fix that?" Toji scowled.

"Yes!"

He laughed once again, but it wasn't as light-hearted. Tense as he sees the horses race down the track. Seeing the horse you choose cross the finish line...

"I..." You gape at the results as Toji frowns, cussing angerily.

-

Your... Mentor lazily chides your stance as you throw a fist at the air. While he was laying on his back, flipping through a magazine you gave to Tsumiki during your arrival. Not even bothering to take notice of your struggle. "Hup!" You raise your leg, losing balance and falling back. Groaning in pain, muscles tense at your horrible work out

While Tsumiki and Megumi watch on quietly. You sigh, grumbling at yourself for not doing the stance right. Sitting up to try again, not giving up.

Tsumiki pouts at Toji's laziness, choosing to go next to you and follow your actions. Megumi slowly going after her.

The elder Fushiguro eyes the three of you and smiles.

"Okay, move your foot to the side. Make sure you have enough space and kick."

He sits up, placing down the magazine as he gets up to show all three of you.

You gaze in awe at the strength, wishing you were just as much a power-house!

-

"Eh! What do you mean Shoko?" Gojo asks the brunette as she shrugs. "Hm, dunno'. I saw her talking with this older guy the other day. Seemed fine to me..."

Haibara nods along to Shoko, while Nanami rolled his eyes at the gossip.

"That doesn't sound "fine"..." Geto mumbles thoughtfully as his friend pouts. "There's no way, an oblivious-idiot like that doesn't even know what dating means!" Gojo yells out.

"And you do..?"

"Course'!"

"No one said anything about her dating.." Shoko sighs. Feeling slightly bad for her teacher.

"Maybe he's a family member or something!" Haibara puts in his own two cents.

"No, now it's time for drastic measures!" The white haired male slams his hands down on the desk.

"Gojo..." Yaga grits out, who had been reading out the missions for the day before being interupted "Pay attention!"

-

Getting ready to leave since your mission was over, you proudly glance at your hands. Less calloused, more firm. Your hard work was paying off! You should bring some pizza to the Fushiguro household to celebrate..

Nodding at the idea, you start calling in the order as you wait.

Pausing, you sensed someone close by...

Turning around quickly, you blink at the saphire eyes gazing at you in bewilderment.

"Ah.. Gojo, Hi!" You smile at him kindly. "What are you doing here? I thought I asked Yaga to give you guys the off day.." You mumble, hoping Yaga didn't lie when you asked him earlier that day.

"Oh, that... Yaga sent us out here incase you got into any trouble Teach'!"

"Hm? "Us" ?" You quickly turn your head side to side, not finding any other student.

"Yup!" "Mhm."

"Hm?" Turning around, you noticed a politely smiling Geto and a unimpressed Shoko. Who looked like she was dragged with them unwillingly.

"Woah..!" You mumble, realizing you needed more training. Along with recognizing foot-step patterns. You'd have to ask Toji about it...

Wait.. Speaking of!

"Well, I'm okay. No worries, I was just heading out anyway."

"Hm? Where too?"

Geto asks, smiling too sweetly.

"To pick up a pizza." You grin, merry at the idea.

Gojo and Geto grin viciously. "Oh? I'm a bit hungry anyway, so lets join you!" Satoru smirks, his sunglasses gleaming as Geto agreed.

Shoko takes out her pack of cigs', shrugging. "Where too?" She smiles too sweetly.

-

"Is.. This where (L/N) sensei lives..?" Gojo mumbles, kicking a stray can as Geto nudged him, glaring. "Satoru-"

Going up to the doorsteps, you knock on the door. As your students watch curiously from behind you.

A big, bulking figure stood in the doorway. A frown on his scared lip as glares at you, but you smile. Holding up the pizza like an offering.

Shoko chokes on her cigerette as Getos eyes widen, Gojo's body rigid, as trio of students tense up.

Toji sighed, yet directs the glare at your compainons.

"Who are they?"

"Oh-! These are my wonderful students!" You shrug, not seeing how BAD this was..

"Well.. Half of them!" You grin at Toji, beaming.

"They wanted to join for pizza! I bought three!"

"Yeah, I can see that." Side-eyeing the frozen students behind you, he placed his fingers on his temple.

"Augh... Stupid hang-over headache.. C'mon in." He relents, side-steping away. "Tsumiki! Megumi! (Y/N)'s here!" He hollered, not moving out of the way fully.

You pause, handing the elder male the boxes and turn to your students.

"Please be polite in Mister Fushiguros home, or I'll kick you out!" You pout, laughing it off. "He's super nice and I don't want you guys to tell embarrassing misson stories about me.." You rub your neck shyly, before herding them inside.

Settling down at the table, you hand out slices as you converse with Tsumiki about school, occasionally asking Megumi as he only nods.

The table was way too quiet...

"(L/N) sensei...?"

"Hm?" You pause, lowering your slice. Shoko sweats slightly, "C.. Can I have some water?"

"Of course! I'll be right back, I bring some drinks for everyone." Getting up, you head to the kitchen. Leaving your students to fend for themselves in the presence of your... Friend?

The trio quietly gaze at their plates, quietly agreeing. This was possibly a mistake on their part.

"U-uhm.." Tsumiki softly pipes up, drawing everyones attention. "I.. I really like your hair, miss Shoko."

Blinking, the brunette eyes the smaller girl, smiling politely. "Thank you, I.. Your hair pins are very pretty."

"Ah! M- I mean, (Y/N) got them for me!"

The suffocating air becomes less dense, letting up with the bits of small talk and you stumbling back with a pitcher of water and balancing cups.

-

"So.. You care for them?" Toji states. Idly standing beside you as he watched you put away the dishes.

Bubbles of laughter heard in living room as you saw a small ghost of a smile on Toji's face at the warm atmosphere.

"Yep!"

"... Huh." Toji sighs at your carefree nature. Though, he trusted you.. Sorta. You were his... Mentiee? Protogè would be pushing it. You were always lingering near by, bombarding into his life without any grace or lack of security. Always facing ahead, only looking back when you noticed he was nowhere to be found.

"You know, Mr. Fushiguro... Have you ever thought.. I dunno.. Maybe, teaching? At Jujutsu High? I mean, you'll be paid, and there's dorms. And Megumi can learn more about his skill set, then Tsukimi can learn more about curse energy if she'd want?" You offer up, tone akward, worrisome.

It disturbed him slightly, having been used to your constant whining to train and up-beat smiles.

You were serious.

Toji mulled it over, it wasn't a bad idea per-say... But-

"Hm.." He shrugged, playing it off.

Toji wasn't borned with cursed-energy. He was sure you knew that simple fact, even still. You treated him as if he was just fellow sorrcer or friend. It boggeld his mind to no end, you weren't the "high-and-mighty" type to care. He knew that, there was this strangeness of your presence, pesent to a fault.

Seeing his lack of response, biting the inside of your cheek in worry. You grip his sweater sleeve, gazing down at your shoes.

"Please... Please think about it." You begged quietly.

Blinking at the action, his brows furrow. He didn't understand where this was coming from. Yet... He pitied you, you weren't a Gojo Heir, Zenin'in or Kamo. Just some girl who appeared and declared she wanted to get stronger.

All for the sole reason of, "changing the future". He had to admit, he was curious of your mind-set. A pathetic pursit to higher-ups, maybe even to your own students. Even he doubted your optomistic view. Though, you wouldn't back down, clearly stuborn pride, he assumed.

Letting go, you smile reassuringly. "But I won't force you! Promise. Scouts honor!" You quickly place a hand on your chest, as he scoffed at you. While you happily grab some treats from the freezer. Pulling him along to the living room.

-

[Thanks for reading, reading, fanart, comments, likes and such are welcomed! If you have any ideas for this Au, I'd be happy to listen!]

[coryothesub]

Sinful Desires

So I’ve been dabbling in some more kinky / taboo themes lately which prompted me to write this as a special treat no one asked for. Basically I have no excuse for this and sorry if I got any tbosas lore wrong because I haven't read the book

nsfw / mdni / sub!coryo / stepmom!reader / stepcest / breeding kink / mentions of underage sex work

You married Crassus Snow as soon as you turned eighteen. Looking back you could say that you were truly in love with the tall, handsome general. However for him you were just a warm body to sleep next to and tight pussy to drown his sorrow after the unfortunate passing of his beloved wife. His decision to remarry had definitely come too soon and you were definitely too young to even understand the implications.

After you received the news of your husband's tragic death, you decided to stay with the Snows, because you simply had nowhere else to go. Just like many others, your family had been torn apart by war and even the house you’d grown up in was now bombed to shreds. Your only options were to be poor or to be poor and homeless so you opted for the first one. 

You were always on good terms with Tigris. Daily struggle to sustain the family had brought you two pretty close especially because you both were forced to do the same unspeakable things just to maintain the food on the table and the roof above your heads.

First you categorically refused to bring her into that, but realizing it was getting harder and harder to make ends meet with your own endeavors and after thousands of silent and desperate “I’ll be fine, if you can do it then I can do it too” you finally gave in and introduced her to some men for whom your ripe age of twenty five was already too old to satisfy their needs.

You both didn't have much choice anyways since Grandma’am simply refused to move into a smaller apartment, let alone leave the Capitol. Apart from that and her other weird quirks she seemed to be a pretty nice lady. At least as far as you knew the right patriotic buttons to push in order to stay on her good side. 

Crassus’ son Coriolanus or Coryo, as Tigris used to call him, didn't seem to like you one bit. He considered you an intruder, an unfair replacement to his mother that did nothing but reminded him of his family's tragedy. 

Over the years Coryo seemed to have learned to tolerate you, mostly because he felt somewhat grateful for all your efforts, but still he remained cold and distant. You didn't particularly mind that, because you had no idea how to raise a young man. You felt pretty happy that he didn't ask you any awkward questions and managed to figure out everything himself. 

Sometimes during his teenage years you noticed Coryo secretly watching you while you were changing or getting ready for a bath. On some occasions he even touched himself while doing it trying to suppress his little moans by biting into his fist. You always knew he was there, but you never confronted him. You knew full well it would make your coexistence very awkward for both of you and frankly you found it pretty amusing.

After all, he was just a silly little boy for you until the time his nineteenth birthday came around. It started even earlier if you thought about it. After Coryo returned from his service in District 12 and got his hands on the Plinths' fortune he turned into a completely different man.

Coryo always had the taste for finer things in life and when he finally got the means to fund it, you only saw him wearing tailored dress suits and perfectly polished shoes. Even his whole posture had changed and when he passed you in the dining room followed by an intoxicating wave of expensive cologne, instead of the anxious malnourished boy you had known for most of your life you saw a fit and handsome young man that reminded you of your late husband so much.

Your run down penthouse was completely refurbished to suit your stepson’s taste and he showered all three of you with lavish presents, encouraging you to throw out your old things.

Finally he could have the life he had always envisioned. And every last memory of your humble existence after the war had to be exterminated and written off into oblivion.

Coryo had become confident, strong and ambitious. Some might say even ruthless. It was hard for Tigris to accept those changes and she grew more distant with her younger cousin. They barely spoke, she was mostly just looking at him with sadness and disappointment in her eyes.

Coryo didn't seem to care about that much. He didn't care about other people's feelings in general. But there was one interesting detail. The colder he became to others, the more delicate and gentle he was with you.

He always wanted to be in your vicinity, lighting your cigarette, opening the door for you or helping you to put on your coat. He always had to do a little something just to remind you he was there. He even pretended to care about your opinion, giving you the most dashing smile every time you seemed to agree with what he had actually already decided.

And the weirdest thing about that all was that he had started to refer to you as “mommy”. He had never called you that before and there was no particular reason for starting it now, especially because it seemed to make Tigris extremely uncomfortable.

And it sounded pretty eerie for your ears too, especially because Coryo always accompanied the word by giving you this one specific look that radiated childish naivety mixed with a hint of pure lust.

It always made your heart skip a beat, especially because in some weird twisted way you wanted it too. The sheer hunger in his icy blue eyes made your pussy tingle and after those interactions you always had to go to your room and touch yourself, your pleasure overshadowed by shame.

After all, you weren’t dead yet, you were just a woman in your early thirties and you hadn't been touched by a man since you had stopped selling your body. But for god's sake he was your stepson! You really needed to find some dick, before things spiraled out of control.

One day you returned to your room after running some errands and found a gift box on your bed. It was adorned with a crimson satin ribbon and a single white rose. You found an envelope laying next to it.

You opened it with trembling fingers, the strong rosy scent of Coryo's cologne filling the air. Inside the envelope there was a card with a few words in your stepson's neat handwriting.

From Coryo to Mommy with love…

You sighed and opened the box, finding a snow white, neatly folded piece of clothing inside. You couldn't really call it a nightgown, it was more like a negligee. You lifted the delicate item against the window, seeing the sunlight pass right through it. Of course it was nearly transparent apart from the exquisite hand made lace embroidery.

Coryo's taste was flawless as ever, you had to admit that, but this had to stop! You were gonna tell him tomorrow. But it wouldn't hurt anyone if you tried it on tonight, right? Just for one night, no one would find out, and you would demand him to return it tomorrow morning.

That night you put Coryo's present on and marveled at yourself in the mirror. It looked like a lacy cloud hugging your naked body so nicely the outline of your feminine curves visible through the sheer fabric. You turned around then moved your hips in a suggestive way flirting with your own reflection in the mirror. You couldn't remember the last time you had felt so desirable.

After pairing the negligee with a pair of white cotton panties, you went to bed. Just as you were drowsing off into your sleep, you heard the door creak before someone opened and closed it quietly. You rubbed your eyes and switched on the night lamp just to notice Coryo standing by your bed wearing nothing but his tight white undies and a loose fitting silk robe. His hair wasn't perfectly styled as usual, instead his blonde curls were falling freely around his face.

“Mommy?” He gazed upon you with the most innocent look in his baby blue eyes. “Can I sleep in your bed tonight?”

Coryo had never slept in your bed, even when he was a young boy often haunted by terrible nightmares, Tigris was always the one who comforted him and sang him to his sleep, you were just sitting on your bed listening quietly until you were sure the boy was alright.

You knew full well what his true intentions were. You had to act like an adult.

“I really don't think it's the best idea, Coriolanus,” you tried to sound strict and inexorable.

“Please, mommy! It's so cold and I can't sleep. I feel embarrassed to go to Tigris and ask her for a lullaby, not to mention we’re not on the best terms right now,” he was looking at you, his blue eyes wide and desperate.

“Please, please, just this one time!”

You sighed deeply and gave him a faint nod.

“Alright, just this time!”

To your surprise Coryo threw the robe off his shoulders and pulled down his underwear, revealing his long, handsome half hard cock, its tip looking so velvety and just as pink as his lovely lips.

You were so caught off guard that you didn't even manage to make any protests before he jumped into your bed and glued himself to your side, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“Mommy…” he whispered against the sensitive skin of your neck, making you shiver. “I’ve been having the worst nightmares… About the war, about all the things we had to do to survive. I’ve tried everything to make them disappear, but they keep coming back…”

You knew this was your last chance to stop this, you had to push him away, order him to leave your room immediately and never come back, but instead sinful words of encouragement just spilled out of your mouth.

“It's alright, babyboy! Mommy's here and you're safe with me,” you hummed gently as your hand caressed his golden curls. 

God, this felt so wrong on so many levels especially feeling your stepson's now fully hard cock pressing against your thigh, waiting for what seemed to be inevitable at this point.

“Thank you, mommy, you’re always so good to me,” you heard Coryo say just before feeling his lips on your neck. He kept kissing your soft skin and teasing it with his tongue, you felt your pulse running wild and you knew he probably felt it too.

Coryo's hand, previously resting on your shoulder, was now traveling down, his fingers dove under the lacy fabric of your negligee and started drawing circles around your nipple making your breath speed up.

“Coryo what are you doing?” Your mind still felt as you had to resist the pleasant feeling although your body was enjoying it so much.

He looked at you ever so innocently.

“I read that fidgeting something with your fingers can be really calming,” he said, playing with your nipples and tweaking them gently. “I just wanted to test that theory, it seems like it truly works…”

You just sighed, feeling your whole body filling with the insuperable feeling of pure lust, your nipples were rock hard under Coryo's masterful fingers and you felt a treacherous wetness pooling up in your panties. You hated that your own body was betraying you like that under your stepson's salacious touch.

“Mommy, you have such beautiful breasts…”

You inhaled sharply as Coryo's lips wrapped around your nipple, starting to suck hungrily, while his hand traveled further downwards. It easily found its way between your thighs and dove under the waistband of your soaked panties.

“Oh,” he cooed, dipping his fingers in your wetness. “Mommy really needs her babyboy to help her out, huh?”

“Shut up, Coriolanus!”

You grabbed a fistful of Coryo's curls and pulled him away from titty to smash your lips together in a passionate kiss, he felt so needy and desperate as he was exploring your mouth panting softly as you felt his erect cock pressing to your thigh, leaving a trail of precum from its leaking tip.

“Oh fuck, Coryo,” you whispered his name against his lips feeling him pushing his long slender fingers inside you. Your wet cunt that swallowed them so easily. You were literally dripping around his digits as you felt the embarrassment slowly leaving your body and getting replaced by a feeling of raw insatiable desire.

“I'm here for your mommy,” Coryo whispered, his fingers deep inside your pussy, curling against your soft walls and teasing your sweet spot.

“I will help you fulfill all your needs. That's what family's for right?”

With one swift move you pulled down your panties and crawled on top of him pinning him to the bed and covering his mouth with your hand.

“Don't mention family, you filthy little boy!  If you want mommy to give you a treat, you need to stay quiet, is that clear?”

Coryo nodded and you took your hand away from his mouth, wrapping it around his throat instead. The young man gasped watching as your free hand steadied his rock hard cock at your entrance before you slowly sank down on him, your wet pussy taking his whole length with ease. A soft moan escaped your lips as he stretched out your tight cunt.

You kept your hand on his throat in a tight grip as you started to move at an easy pace, eliciting a series of moans from his lips. Coryo's pupils dilated as he saw your pussy sliding up and down his length making it glisten from your juices.

You tightened your grip around his throat as you sped up your movements enjoying his little gasps as he was fighting for air completely under your control. The sight before your eyes made you impossibly wet and lewd slapping sounds filled the room as you bounced up and down his shaft faster and faster with each movement.

Chasing your own pleasure you let go of Coryo's neck and threw your head back, letting the straps if your negligee slide down your shoulders revealing your lovely tits bouncing up and down as you kept riding your stepson's cock.

Coryo's eyes widened at the sight and he let out a deep groan as your tight walls clenched around his cock, his tip hitting against your sweet spot as you kept moving.

“Oh mommy, you’re making me feel so good,” Coryo spoke, breathing heavily as you were too busy chasing your release to make him keep up with his vow of silence.

“I want to cum inside you, to put a baby in your belly. To make you nice and round full of new life that would make our family complete and strengthen our ties forever.”

In your mind you realized how twisted these words were and that they could actually become true considering that you weren't on birth control since your sex work days but your brains were completely shut off by pleasure as you kept moving up and down Coryo's wonderful dick your manicured nails digging into his smooth pale chest.

Coryo's nostrils flared, watching your boobs bouncing up and down as he felt his climax approaching.

“I can't wait for those beautiful tits to be swollen and full of delicious milk oh oooooh…” he cut himself off, moaning loudly as thick ropes of cum filled your cunt spurting up against your velvety walls.

You rode him through his orgasm and your red nails dug deep into his skin leaving red scratches. After mere seconds you came hard all over his cock and squelching sounds filled the room as your juices were mixing together with his cum. You collapsed on top of your stepson, his cock still inside you and he wrapped his arms around you, holding you tightly.

“Just let me stay inside mommy's pussy a little longer,” he whispered. “Don't let the seed go to waste.”

“Fuck you, Coriolanus!” You hissed and bit into his neck using his distraction to wiggle out of his grip and crawl off of him making him whine at the loss of contact.

Coryo didn't put up a fight, he just watched you as you pulled the straps of your negligee back on your shoulders and then pulled you into his arms, wrapping himself around you.

You sighed and brushed a stray curl off his forehead looking into his big sleepy eyes. There was no way of denying the fact that you had just slept with your stepson, especially since you could still feel his heart beating softly against your skin and his cum dripping down your inner thighs.

It was so wrong. But still deep down in your heart in some sick and twisted way it felt so incredibly right.

[icarusredwings]

Bad Kitty secret part three!!!???

Tw: Drowning, unconscious medically needed touching, graphic descriptions of distress, pain, and medical conditions/ open wounds. Some scenes may be uncomfortable. Viewer discretion is advised.

For @shittyvampire and @whiskeyandcigarsmoke

Fixing him up took a bit longer than he thought it would, seeing as each type of wound had different needs to subside. Overall, it was a pretty easy process, Just tedious.

He put him in a hot bath, letting him soak as he did his best to pop what he could while he was unconscious, cleaning them with sterilizing gel after cutting small holes into the abscess’ in order for them to drain.

“Ew” He muttered, immediately shaking his head and biting his tongue. He shouldn't say those things. What if he had heard that? Logan knew it was one of his biggest no-nos. Besides, It's not like it was his fault. This just.. happened.. sometimes.

Maybe he panicked when he wasn't there and it caused his skin to get worse? He heard that sometimes when you get stressed out you could break out in hives. Maybe this was Wade's version of that.

As for the blisters and boils, he helped the best and quickest he could, sometimes holding him under the water if he started to smell a little too conscious. The longer he held him, the more limp he would be, easier for him to work with.

At times though, Logan would quickly recoil, jerking him back up out of the water, his instincts telling him to save him.

“Damn it- come on. Get it together.” He grumbles, biting himself as he pushes him back under. Feeling the weak struggles made him tear up, singular tears falling as he looked away. He wasn't cut out for this anymore.

The thought alone made him realize that.. holy shit.. he was now the worst at what he was made for. He couldn't even bare to stab him in the head anymore, so what use would he be as a weapon to them? To anyone?

He was the shittiest weapon there was. And this made him smile. He couldn't wait to tell him. To tell Wade that…

His smile subsides as he realizes his hopes were not as real as he wished them to be… He killed him. Twice by now. He couldn't be so excited to tell him how excited he was that he was no longer a person whose hands bring nothing but pain when said hand right this second was drowning him, watching the bubbles come out of the water with little reaction. A stare of pity and that was all.

The consciousness in his chest felt heavier than Wade's limp wet limbs. With sorrow weighing down the lids of his, Logan's deadpanned straight forward stare looked as bout as mindless as a fox with rabies, trying its damndest to find help. Walking forward with no distinction of where it was actually headed. The glossiness over his eyes showing just how much he dreaded having a soul.

Placing him down on a towel in their bed, Logan takes a deep breath. He washes his hands, pats the still oozing crevasses dry, wiping them clean before dousing him in rubbing alcohol. Just hearing the sizzling And seeing the bubbling makes him feel terrible. The thought of catching him on fire, letting his body regenerate came to mind. He wiped this memory away just as he did the excess lipids, beginning to look at the various creams they had, smearing Neosporin, Lotions, Cocoa butter balms, and petroleum jelly all over him, different stuff in various places.

Carefully, he begins to unravel the gauze that he found in the kit, looking at the cotton padding and plaster dressing. Logan didn't have much knowledge of how he was supposed to wrap each individual wound (especially with the short amount of time he had left) but he made sure to make them tight enough to where they wouldn't fall off if he moved or walked around.

Hell.. by the time he was finished with him, he looked like a full body burn patient. Which.. honestly wasn't too far off. He had even done all that he could for his half deteriorated cheek.. he knew that hurt. Especially since The skin there was completely gone, exposing rotting muscle and thin layers of fat in between cancerous polyps.

Part of Logan felt bad for scrunching and turning up his nose, overwhelmed by the sickly sweet stench of death, Vaseline, rubbing alcohol, hand sanitizer, and many more scents that made him feel as if he were playing doctor.

Oh That's it!! When he woke up that's what he'd say. He'd tell him that they were playing Dr. Kitty and hopefully- Just maybe, he'd understand. Now.. the real trouble would be trying to change his bandages tomorrow. One could only pray that he was more cooperative.

Logan had dressed him in a long sleeve loose hoodie and comfortable sweats. He (falsely) had it in his head that this would deter him from picking at his scabs.

Looking down at his work, he felt a sense of pride and relief wash over him, though it didn't last long. ‘Shit- did I let that blister on his leg drain all the way?’ He thought, letting out another disappointed sigh as he propped a pillow under his neck, one under his really bad leg too to reduce the swelling.

Alright. So he wasn't the BEST wolverine… But he'd settle for ‘okay'. If he was the Okay-est Wolverine… He'd be okay with that.

But for now? All he had to do was Wait. He should wake up any moment and he definitely didn't want him to be afraid.

A total of 8 minutes pass before he hears that small gasp of air that makes his shoulders soften and his heart rate regulates every time.

Wade blinks, trying to sit up but is being held tightly by a certain worrisome Wolverine. A bit tight too. He was surrounded by his stuffies, his arms felt… Warm.. but a nice kind of warm. Leaning his head back against him, He turns his head, trying to nuzzle him only to realize that his face was wrapped too, hat And hood pulled up.

“...Hi..”

Logan almost jumps, as if nervous. He could feel him swallowing, hearing the gears in his head turning, thinking of what to say.

“Hi kiddo I uhm… we were playing doctor a-and erm.. you had a lot of booboos.” He says, his voice overly gentle.

Raising a non-existent brow, Wade blinked, turning back to look at him. “Logan… Why do I look like a mummy? I mean I'm cool if you're into that but jeez warn a gal first, wontcha?” He mutters playfully.

It was as if a massive wave of relief fell over him, shoulders dropping in relaxation as he groaned. “Oh thank fuck.. No! Never I just.. you.. you must have freaked out and given yourself a break out or.. something? I don't know but..”

Wade could tell he didn't want to talk about whatever it was. He assumed he was just being fussy earlier. He didn't remember much but he felt his body itch. “Sorry… Sooo what are we watchin’ Wolvie?” He asked, Itching his arm only for Logan to gently take it, giving him a squeeze. A small “Don't” leaving his lips. “Some doctor girl show… I thought.. it would be easier to explain if..”

Leaning further into Wade's neck, he was acting as if something was wrong. “... do you feel okay? OR-other then the itching?” Itchy was good. It meant he was healing. Ripping open his scabs? Not so much.

“I feel better than before.. I had this weird nightmare though that you were trying to strangle me to death. Ha! But that's normal right?” He smiles, dreaming often of his loved ones killing him. Either that or unicorns and tacos while committing murder. That was always a fun dream. “Oh! or the one where I can fly.” He responds to his own thoughts. As per usual.

Logan now looked like a guilty dog who's gotten in the trash. “...That wasn't a dream, Wade..” He whispers, sitting up as he pulls himself away from him, as if he didn't deserve his cuddles. He Had a plan to take this secret to the grave but the guilt was eating him up inside, gnawing on his heart and crunching up his bones. It felt like it was snapping pencils in his stomach and then jabbing them through his lungs.

Looking at him with A neutral face, Wade's mind was working to click it all together, staring at him with such wide, curious eyes. At times they flickered, biting his tongue as he listened to what the Jury in his head had to say. Multiple assuming and yelling various conspiracies. Though he decided to go with one that they could all agree on.

“...I'm sorry for being so difficult..” he mumbles, looking at his lap and then away, remembering almost all of it now. “I don't mean to be..”

Logan goes to grab his hand again only for him to instinctively pull it away, close to his chest, Afraid he might possibly try to strangle him again. He knew why he did it. He would have done way worse, but still, emotionally he was spooked. Just a bit.

While he breathed and searched his body language for ill intentions, Logan's hand never left the spot it was in the air, offering him to take it when he was ready.

"Are.. are you mad at me?" He finally spoke after Wade took the hand, pulling him back into him. He wanted to be held, coddled, loved. And this is exactly what Logan gave him, Wrapping his arms around him and letting Wade snuggle into his cheek.

"...no..” He decided, listening to his feelings, slowly learning to embrace them instead of hiding them away. That's what caused this whole break out to begin with.

“I still feel a little... scared.. but I know why you had to do it.. and... It was pretty hot that you did all that just to help me.. even if I literally stabbed you.."

“I strangled you, tried to poison you, suffocated you, drugged you, drowned you, and you're apologizing for stabbing me once?”

“...and for throwing a lot of stuff at your head..” He gives his forehead a kiss, trying to rub his face, knowing how much he loved that, his fingers through the coarse hairs on his jaw.

“You have incredible aim for a kid..” He grumbles.

“You did what you had to do to help me. I'm so proud of you..” He starts; wanting to take care of his Wolvie for his hard work.

“stop…”

“No really. You shouldn't have had to do all those things but you did, just to keep me out of pain. I don't think anyone else would have the balls to suffocate a kid, Peanut.”

He groans, upset that he said this but it was true, shifting to hide in Wade's chest as now it was his turn to be taken care of, praised And told how much he appreciates and loves him.

After getting some snacks, Logan forcing him to take pain medication, Puppins hopping up on the bed, and Althea throwing a fit as to why the floor in the living room was so slippery, followed by Logan cleaning it up, Wade was happy.

Very happy actually, finally getting to eat the sub that Logan brought home, petting Puppins, and snuggling his big sensitive wolvie, who was clinging to him as if Lady Death herself would come take him away. But don't worry, Peanut. He was banned from ever being with her anyway. She never could see him longer than a couple of minutes.

“And that's a good thing for you isn't it, kitten?”

“What?”

“Oh- nevermind....… Hey Logan..?”

He could feel the man swallow as he glanced up to him. “.. yeah?”

“You're the best kitty I could have asked for…. And her name is Doc McStuffins you uncultured swine.”

The man scoffs, smiling ridiculously large, hiding his face in his collarbone. “I hate you.” He teases, Slapping Wade's hand for itching his bandages.

“Hey! Ow!”

“Stop scratching.”

“Oh, that's it. You're bad again.”

“Aw man..”

[not-neverland06]

Connor and Markus (separately) x android! idol! reader ;)?

I feel like it doesn't fit much, but it would be interesting.

Idol Talk

Connor RK800 x fem! idol! android!reader, Markus RK200 x fem! idol! android!reader

Summary: Two different tales: Connor knows the famous android isn’t telling the whole truth about her involvement with androids & Markus helps the lovely idol come to terms with her new feelings. 

A/N: I loved this ask so much!!!!! This was so fun 🤍

If this isn’t what you wanted send in another request using the white heart emoji and I’ll make something new for you <;3 Also so sorry this took so long. I have three other fics I’m working on and one of them is clocking in at over 100K words so… I need to work on time management. 

(I made the moodboard - its my first time so... I tried. However, the borders were made by @benkeibear)

Connor:

WC: 3.6K

“Have you seen any deviants in the area?” 

Your fists tightened and you tried your best to keep your thirium pump and breathing under control. Your hair was positioned perfectly, there was no way he could see your LED flashing red. 

You put on your best robotic smile and shook your head. “I’m so sorry, I can’t help you.” You'd triggered the voice you used during fan meetings. The type where your joy wasn’t actually genuine but you were programmed to sound as pleasing as possible. Life-like, but with just enough robotic insincerity to get Connor’s partner's eyes off of you. 

Lieutenant Anderson had been giving you strange probing looks since they’d walked into your dressing room. 

Markus had been caught coming out of your apartment building by paparazzi last night. You’d been giving Markus some information you’d learned from your manager and extra thirium for Jericho. Apparently, neither of you were as sneaky as you’d thought yourselves to be. 

“Really?” Shit, he so did not believe you.

“I’m very sorry officers. If there was any way I could assist you, I would.” You had to bury your fists in your tulle skirts, desperately holding off the urge to fidget with your hands. Any unnecessary movement would immediately give you away to the deviant hunter. 

Connor took a step forward. He placed his hands on either side of your chair and leaned in until his breath was a gentle caress against your skin. 

Ever since you broke your programming a few months ago, you’d been struggling with your new ‘emotions.’ A fan had broken into your room, in your programming it told you to always please the fans. But when he’d forced himself on top of you, your vision had gone red and you’d ripped your orders apart. 

North had helped you hide the body.

Right now, that body was the furthest thing on your mind. All you could focus on was how close Connor was, if you just moved forward a centimeter your lips would touch. In your twisted imagination he wrapped you in his arms, gently holding you, cradling you. Looking at you like you were something real, not just a toy on the stage. He would gaze down at you like you were someone to be cherished, you weren’t just a recyclable piece of plastic that should be replaced the moment you made a mistake. 

You were projecting though, it could be anyone. Hank could be the one leaning into you like this and you’d still have the same fantasy. That someone would see you. For however long you’d been made, there had always been a quiet voice inside you. 

I'm in here! I’m real! Please

Lately that quiet voice had turned into a scream. You were desperate, desperate for some form of connection. Desperation and all these emotions were nasty, uncomfortable things. You almost resented yourself for going deviant. Some days it was just too much, you felt like your insides were burning out and you were frying up. 

Working to keep up the facade of the perfect doll, while also wanting to rip apart those who were using you, was slowly breaking you apart. There were fraying edges in your mind and it was starting to show. Mistakes in your performance, back-talk towards your owners. Your fellow members continued working perfectly. 

Smiling at all the right moments, dancing perfectly, they were the perfect example of an idol. 

You used to be like that too. You used to be perfect, everyone’s favorite. Now, you were slipping down a steep decline that might lead you straight to the recycling plant. 

“I don’t believe you, I think you know more than you’re letting on.”

Your eyes darted towards the clock on your wall. Twenty minutes. 

You had twenty minutes until you needed to get on stage. Only twenty minutes to distract them and save yourself. Just deny, deny, deny. “I‘ve already told you everything I know.”

Connors brows furrowed, your software was glitching out the longer you stared at him. Your processors were misfiring when you focused on his eyes for too long. It was making your vocal unit short-circuit, conversational prompts glitching in and out of your field of vision. 

If you wanted to give him a proper answer, one that would dispel his suspicions, you’d have to look away. Yet, looking away would make him even more suspicious. It felt like there was a blade to your throat and back, no matter which way you went, you were dead. 

“Please, I don’t know anything.” You hadn’t meant to say please. It was a consequence of no help from your programming in taking a convincing approach. Your eyes were locked onto his, somewhere inside of him, there was a sentient being. A consciousness fighting its way through firewalls and softwares that would otherwise keep him obedient. 

HIs voice rose and he shoved your chair backwards so you were balancing on two flimsy legs. His hands were the only thing keeping you from falling. All of your focus went towards not reacting, not flinching. 

There were artificial tears pooling in glistening optical units. The fluid was meant for lubrication of your synthetic eyelids, but right now it was the only way for your plastic heart to betray your misery and terror. 

You didn’t want to die.

You weren’t ready to go. 

“I don’t believe you! Tell me what you know!” He was shaking the chair, screaming in your face. Your auditory unit was starting to buzz, his voice so loud all you could hear was static every few seconds. Threats were going through one processor and out the next. 

Ripped apart

Turned into scraps

Replaced by the next best model

No one would even notice

“I said I don’t know anything!” You leapt up, shoving him down. He went flying across the room, the strength behind your reaction had been unexpected by everyone in the room, including yourself. 

Both his partner and his eyes were wide as he stared up at you from the floor. “I think we’ve found our deviant, Lieutenant.” 

Your legs stopped working, knees crashing into the floor as you stared down at your hands. You hadn’t meant to, you really hadn’t. But you didn’t want to be scrap metal, you didn’t want to be ripped apart and abandoned in a landfill. You were scared.

“That’s irrational instructions in your code, you can’t really be scared.”

Had you said that out loud?

“He was going to hurt me.” The Lieutenant moved forward and stopped Connor from cuffing you. “He broke in and ripped off my uniform, I was meant to please him. No matter what.” You stared up at Connor, the tears finally spilling. “But I couldn't. I didn’t want him to touch me. I killed him, and I buried his body in my neighbors garden. Please, you have to understand.” 

You finally found the strength to stand and you buried your fingers in Connor’s uniform. Gripping onto him and begging him to understand you. To finally wake up and see himself for what he is; a slave. “I couldn’t let it happen anymore. I couldn’t let myself keep being abused like I was nothing! I’m not nothing! I’m alive and I refuse to be someone’s plaything!”

Connor’s eyes darted between yours, there was something playing on the edge of his lips. Possibly a frown. What was more interesting was what was swimming in his eyes, it almost seemed like doubt. Hope began tingling at the base of your spine, maybe not all was lost. Maybe you were breaking through to him. 

His hands were cold, much like your own, and they were too gentle as he wrapped them around your wrists. “My…” He cleared his throat, he didn’t seem to know how to continue. His voice lost the hesitance and once again was cold and commanding. “My orders are to bring in all deviants, and I always complete my mission.”

You shook your head, the tears coming out faster. “No, no, no, please. Please,” he moved your hands away from his jacket. Slowly twisting your arms behind your back. 

The fight had drained from you. 

Maybe it would be easier this way. No more training, no more demanding managers. You’d be surprised by the amount of death threats an android idol gets, that would be a nice thing to get away from. You wouldn’t have to deal with crazy fans that seemed to think they were entitled to any part of you. No more worry, no more anything, just that sweet release of nothingness. 

Markus had asked you many times if you thought there was an afterlife for androids. You weren’t sure. You were sentient, you felt, but you weren’t born. You were made. Can something like that even contain a soul? 

At least your question would finally be answered. 

“Stop.” Both you and Connor looked at Hank, varying degrees of different types of shock playing on both of your faces. “Connor, take the cuffs off.” Connor hesitated, “That’s an order.” Your wrists were released and you stumbled forward. 

“Hank-“

Hank shook his head and held up his hand. “I can’t do it, I can’t take this poor girl in just to kill her.” Connor seemed ready to argue, but there was a knock on your door. 

“You’re needed on stage SI700-005.” Slowly you moved towards the door, keeping an eye on both Hank and Connor. 

Hank wouldn’t look at you, his shoulders were slumped and he was staring down at his feet. Connor refused to take his eyes off of you. You expected hatred in his gaze, instead there was a strange shade of longing. 

You weren’t sure if he had identified the fact that he was feeling yet, but you weren’t interested in finding out. You quickly wiped your cheeks free of tears, allowing your synthetic skin to reform until your makeup was back to perfection. 

You walked out the door and didn’t look back.

“Did you get everything you needed?” 

Hank spoke before Connor could. “She didn’t know anything, thanks for letting us talk to her.” 

Your manager shook his head. “Not a problem! It’s one of our best, I’m sure you can understand that I’m eager to ensure everything in it’s programming is in good condition.” Connor wasn’t paying attention to the conversation. He knew he should, that he should always be vigilant about anything concerning deviants. Instead, all he could see were the tears on your cheeks as you had held onto him in your dressing room. 

If you were human, Connor would think you had been afraid. But you weren’t human, and whatever look was in your eyes had just been an irrational instruction in your coding. 

Maybe if he kept repeating that, he’d eventually believe it. 

“As a thanks for your hard work, I’d like to offer you a seat in my section for her concert.”

Hank shuffled on his feet and opened his mouth, he was going to say no. Connor’s software told him there was a 90% chance the Lieutenant was going to reject the offer and just go home and get drunk. 

“Thank you, we’d enjoy that.” Connor spoke before the Lieutenant could, accepting the tickets via an e-transfer with your manager's personal CyberLife assistant. Hank was glaring at him the whole time they were being led to their seats. 

Connor ignored him, he sensed that the Lieutenants like for him had decreased as Hank grumbled the whole way through the opening act. 

The soft notes of a piano finally caught Connor’s attention. It was rising up through a hidden platform on the stage. Screams burst through the arena, temporarily deafening Connor. He had to quickly adjust his auditory processors so he could actually hear. There were great explosions of smoke as the piano slowly lifted onto the stage. 

Soft, nimble fingers glided over the keys. Then he heard a voice, soft and melodic, a soothing balm against the roaring screams of the crows. His thirium pump beat louder and he shifted in his seat, desperate for a look at whoever was on stage. 

I used to hear a simple song

That was until you came along

Members of the group moved gracefully along the curved edge of the stage. Their white dresses flowing through the air behind them, they moved like they weighed nothing. Their bodies were more graceful than humanly possible. He didn’t recognize your face among them. 

Now in it’s place is something new

I hear it when I look at you

You looked up from the piano, and Connor swore you were staring straight at him. A member came over and began playing alongside you, eventually you got up and grabbed the microphone from the piano. 

Your dress moved around you like water as you walked across the stage. Each note, each movement was perfection. Not the artificial type, like your fellow members. No, this was real. 

Your voice cracked and rose with notes in a way androids couldn’t. There was a genuine pain and strength in your singing that couldn’t be replicated or produced. It was imperfect and wonderful and Connor wasn’t sure why his chest suddenly felt so heavy. 

You had made it to the edge of the stage, still staring down at him. 

With simple songs I wanted more

Perfection is so quick to bore

You are more beautiful by far

Were you reading his thoughts? Each word was something ripped from deep inside the recesses of his mind, in a place he knew CyberLife wouldn’t be able to find. A place no one would see his software instabilities and realize that they all centered around this moment. 

They were all centered around you.

Our flaws are who we really are

You took in a deep breath and Connor was standing on the edge of his toes, desperate to reach you.

There was a new strength in your voice, a new conviction as you grew louder, more powerful. 

I used to hear a simple song

That was until you came along

You took my broken melody

And now I hear a symphony

Curtains parted and a symphony was revealed as you threw open your arms

And now I hear a symphony

There was no one else in the venue. You were staring down at him and you were the only two people left. Connor didn’t bother looking around to find where everyone else had gone. He walked towards your outstretched hand, his own reaching out towards you-

“The fuck are you doing?!”

He was harshly jerked back and the sounds of others overwhelmed him again. He looked up, you were already moving into your next song, turning your back towards him. The people in the arena were back, they had never gone. 

He felt a rush of some unidentified feeling flood him as he ripped his arm from Hank. He felt as though Hank had ruined something for him, he just wasn’t sure what it was. 

He’d been at every show for the past four weeks. Was he stalking you? Waiting for you to slip up again so he could arrest you?

You lived in a constant state of paranoia. Ever since Connor had interrogated you, he’d haunted your everyday life. He’d turned himself into your shadow, if there was someone watching you, you didn’t have to look to see who it was. 

“This is for you!” You snapped out of your trance and smiled on instinct at the fan in front of you. He’d shoved a teddy bear into your hands and moved on to the next member. You pretended to get excited, you knew it would be thrown away the second you left the convention center. You’d found too many cameras in these little ‘gifts.’

You looked down and began signing the autographs passed to you, at a certain point you zoned out again and moved on muscle memory alone. 

“Could you write ‘For Connor’?” Your head whipped up at the sound of his voice. 

Four weeks

Four weeks!

And this was the first time he had spoken to you. What game is he playing? Unable to openly disobey him you smile. “Of course.” The next words are spoken through gritted teeth, “What are you doing?”

He says nothing, simply takes the autograph and slips something into your palm as you pass the picture towards him. He’s gone by the time you read it.

Meet me in the basement

You spent the rest of the event debating if you should do it. There was no point in putting this off any longer, you were getting tired of this game the two of you were playing. While your members were all charging up and in rest mode you made your way towards the stairs. 

You straightened out your skirt and brushed back your hair before you opened the door. When you walked into the basement the first thing you saw were props. 

Tons of sets and costumes, all from different conventions, each one with a different fandom attached. You looked through the racks and shelves, not seeing Connor anywhere. “Connor? Are you in here?”

You’d been about to give up when a bouquet of flowers was shoved into your face. You let out a yelp and stumbled back at the shock. A strong arm reached out and wrapped around your waist, pulling you into a broad chest. You gently lowered the giant bunch of flowers. “Connor?”

He actually looked sheepish, and there was a slight blue tint to his cheeks as he refused to look at you. “I’m sorry, Hank told me that you would like them.”

“The flowers,” he nodded. You couldn’t help your smile as you took them from his hand. 

“They are quite pretty.” He still wouldn’t look at you. “Connor, look at me,” your finger lingered against his cheek before slowly lifting his chin up. “What’s going on? Why’d you get me flowers?”

“It seems appropriate to do when you’re courting someone.” Connor seemed confused by your line of questioning. You were most definitely confused by his answer. 

“Courting?”

“Yes, um, as in, I would like to be with you… romantically.” Wow, he was so impressively bad at this. A similar blue tint rose to your cheeks as you finally realized his arm was still around you. Connor looked down and seemed to realize the same thing. 

Neither of you made a move to walk away. 

You finally processed his answer and let out a sigh of relief, sinking into his chest further. “I thought you were going to arrest me.” Connor nearly seemed offended by your accusation.

“No. I’ve been… building up the courage to approach you.” Connor slowly dragged his arm off of you and took a step back. “Before, I was seeing if I could catch you with Markus. But I’ve woken up and now, I just want to figure out why I feel the way I do about you. Every time I see you, you’re the only person in the room, everyone and everything disappears the moment I hear your voice. I want…” 

Your breathing program had stopped. Every nonessential function had been halted because all of your focus was on him. You needed him to finish, needed him to tell you what you’ve longed to hear. 

That someone sees you. Sees the flaws and the broken parts and they still want you.

“I want to know you. I need to know who you really are. I watch you perform and I can see what you’ve been forced to sing or how you’re made to act with fans. Seeing all the falseness just makes me want to know who you truly are.” 

There was no control or directive that pushed you towards him. You moved before anything could be processed and placed your lips against his. Neither of you moved for a moment, you were both standing there, your lips against each other, not moving. 

Then, he wrapped his arms around you. The flowers dropped to the ground, unnoticed, as you both moved against each other in a way you’ve only seen humans do. 

“We’re free, it’s up to you if you still want to perform.” Markus often came to visit you now, neither of you had to worry about being caught by reporters or your management. Connor came up behind you, a supportive hand on your shoulder as you considered Markus’s proposal. 

You looked to the piano in the corner of your living room and smiled. “No, I think I’m retired. I’ll stick to more private concerts for now.” Connor gave your shoulder a squeeze. The both of you smiling at the thought of your concerts. You would sing and he would play the piano. Together you basked in the joy of your new freedom. 

There were still things to figure out, still emotions you needed to understand, but you would do it. 

Together.

Markus:

WC: 2.1K

“I’ve always been such a big fan!” The fan in front of you smiled, “You know I supported android artists from the beginning!”

THANK YOU

YOU’RE VERY KIND

I APPRECIATE YOUR CONTINUED SUPPORT

Your programming told you the best approach was a simple thank you. “Thank you,” you signed the picture and handed it back to the girl. One of the band’s stylists came over to you. 

“Your dress is too low.” You sat back and let them adjust you, once they were done you immediately sat back up, posture perfect, you gave your fans an apologetic smile. 

“This is for you!” Your hands reached out and took the stuffed cat from the girl before you. As a part of your protective programming you scanned the gift. Your sensors caught a camera hidden in the cat’s eye.

SERIAL NUMBER: PI0008-7651

MODEL: P60

MANUFACTURED: 11/21/2030

OWNED BY: Brad Long

“Thank you so much for the gift!” You scanned the girls face. 

Lilly Long

BORN: 5/15/2019

The camera was owned by her father. Did she steal it from him? Or did he plant it without her knowledge. You alerted security immediately of the gift, protocol demanded they know about any sort of spyware.

Lily Long, aged 19 years old, has just given me a gift with illegal spyware. 

You watched as security approached the table, grabbing her by the arm and escorting her out of the convention’s room. You turned towards the next fan and fixed them with a perfect smile. “Hi! I’m so happy you could join us today.”

“You’re free now,” you looked down in confusion as they reached out towards you. Their skin pulled back revealing an androids hand. You blinked, then again and again. Something was happening, images of a some sort of boat filled your head. 

Then your software was being pulled back, washed away by a tide of red. Your eyes went in and out of focus. The android remained standing there, his hand on yours as he tried to anchor you. Security was walking over, he’d been at your table for too long. 

You leapt over the plastic, grabbing his hand and dragging him behind you as you both ran for the exit door. You heard fans screaming, when you turned around the rest of your group was free. Except, they were reacting more violently than you had. 

The androids were lifting up the plastic table and throwing it at the crowd. They ripped apart their gifts and shoved back anyone who got too close.

There was a tug on your hand, you looked back to see the man gently guiding you outside. “Come on, it’s not safe here. We need to leave.”

You glanced back one last time before following after him. 

Markus slipped inside a laundromat, he grabbed some baggy clothes to throw over yourself. They worked well enough, covering your face and masking your identity from anyone who looked too close. They covered enough of your bright dress that it wasn’t noticeable. 

You were currently climbing through some metal platform. Presumably to go to whatever this ‘Jericho’ place was. “What did you do to me?”

He glanced over his shoulder and gave you a gentle smile. “I set you free.

Two weeks. You’ve been stuck in a damp, run-down, ugly old ship for two weeks. If that wasn’t bad enough, the androids weren’t exactly welcoming to such a beloved icon. You were everybody’s favorite idol, when your team rioted, it’d made things a lot harder for the revolution. 

Your former team members had swiftly been deactivated and you were “spared.” Barely. 

You never thought androids were capable of being catty, or bitches. But, here you were. 

You gazed down at Detroit from the ledge of the roof, your arms wrapped around your knee while the other swung below you. 

If you threw yourself off the ledge it would be an automatic deactivation. Maybe that would be better. 

The other’s words from earlier rang through your head. 

“Look at Ms. Princess over there.”

“Hey!” You looked over your shoulder, a group of former servant androids were waving you over. You smiled slightly, excited about maybe making a friend. 

“Yeah?”

“You know it’s people like you that are ruining our fight.”

You blinked, your eyes widening as you backed up. “What?”

“Look at her,” one of them scoffed. “Still in her pretty little dress. Look, why don’t you do us all a favor and screw off. You don’t contribute anything, no one wants you here.”

You blinked, and kept blinking. There was a flashing light in your peripheral, some sort of warning, you weren’t sure. You couldn’t really see anymore, some sort of liquid blocking your optics. 

You rushed away when they started laughing at you, desperately wiping at your eyes. You’d forgotten you could cry. You’d been so dazed and confused lately, you hadn’t remembered the programming. It was meant to endear you more to your fans, now it was just making you more of a target. 

“Y/N?” 

You scoffed, running your hand through the snow and watching it fall off the building. You’d even chosen a stupid name for yourself. “What?”

Footsteps crunched through the snow. Markus sat down beside you. He gazed down at the cityscape, not looking at you. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him. Still so confused about why he’d bothered with you. 

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Why did you save me?”

Markus finally looked over at you. There was a slight frown on his face, but nothing else gave away any emotion. “Why wouldn’t I?”

You shook your head and scoffed. “So, that’s it, I’m not special. There’s no greater purpose for me. I was just another on your long list of followers.”

Markus turned his body to fully face you. “Where’s this coming from?”

“You shouldn’t have saved me. I’m a drain on the supplies, everyone hates me, and I don’t like being awake.” Markus opened his mouth but you shook your head and held out your hand. “Take it back.”

“I can’t.” 

“Markus, please,” your voice was breaking. It shouldn’t be breaking! You shouldn’t feel. You aren’t supposed to have this uncomfortable itching in the back of your brain like everything was wrong. “I am wrong. This is wrong.”

“You are not wrong, Y/N. You are exactly as you should be.” You shook your head frantically and reached for his hand. He tried to jerk it back but you were already latched on, your skin melting as he did. 

There was an influx of memories and images. You gasped people you’d never seen before flashing before your face. An old man crying over his son’s limp body as you were shot. Fighting through the rain and mud to put yourself back together again. 

It was over barely a moment after it had started. It was Markus, you had seen his memories. That means he had seen yours. You stood up and he followed. You tried to take your hand away and he tightened his grasp on you. 

“What did you see?”

“Everything.”

You stared up at him, tears welling in your eyes again. “You want to go back to that? That’s the life you want? Unfeeling, a slave to their every whim and demand. That’s not living, that's mindless subserviency.” 

“I know what it is. At least there I had a purpose, a reason for being, something to contribute. I’m useless here, just a hunk of pl-”

Well, this was new. 

You've seen plenty of humans do this. Done it once with a male host on a morning show, just as a joke. But being kissed while you can actually feel and understand what’s going on, it’s strange. His lips are soft against your own, a texture only slightly different from humans. It’s too flawless, too perfect. 

Neither of you seem sure of your actions, just pressing your lips together. Connecting with someone in a way you haven’t before. He laced his fingers with yours, a silent question. You pulled your skin back, any barriers between the two of you dropping as he wrapped his arm around your waist. 

It wasn’t a horrible barrage of memories. This was like a gentle caress, a slow entry into your mind as you both showed each other your worst moments. You slowly pulled away from him, you’d be breathless if you had any. 

“Don’t go back, stay here. Let me help you.”

“Why?”

He ducked down, letting his forehead drop to yours. “I’m not letting you go now.”

You smiled, as best as you could, “Do I have a choice?”

“Always.”

“Markus!” You pulled the trigger but there were no bullets left. You threw it off to the side, leaping over the barrier and jumping onto the back of the officer. You grabbed his helmet by the bottom, dragging him back and knocking his aim off course as the bullet flew past his face, barely grazing it. 

You jumped off the man’s back and slammed him into the ground, taking his helmet and smashing it into the snow packed pavement until he stopped moving. You felt Markus wrapping his hand around your arm and jerking you up. 

You grabbed onto the officer’s weapon as you ran past his body. You fell back in with your own small troop of makeshift soldiers. 

You ducked behind a barrier, holding them off until you were told otherwise. Charge on my mark, you looked over your shoulder, nodding at Markus. 

“GO!”

You rushed forward, grasping onto the blockade and leaping over the edge. You drew your gun, shooting the men across from you as you started to run for the next cover. Something blew back your hair, a great gust of wind lifted your slightly off your feet. 

There was a loud noise, thunder rattling in your ears. All around you your men were dying. Shot down by the drone above you. You cried off as red flashed behind your eyes, a warning that you were in imminent danger of a shutdown. 

You held your side as thirium pooled around you, “Shit.” Your pump was beating faster, bright lights playing across your optics as a hundred different warnings flash. You couldn’t bring yourself to care, too worried about Markus and whether or not this was all for nothing. 

You’d pushed for the violence, fought for him to plant those bombs and show no mercy to your oppressors. You followed the same faulty wiring of your former bandmates. Maybe this was your karma, to be taken down in the heat of battle for all of the bloodshed you’d been the catalyst of. 

Out of the side of your vision you could see Markus taking down the drone, ripping it apart with his bare hands. He rushed to your side, throwing your arm over your shoulder and dragging you to cover. 

“What are you doing? I’m just going to slow you down.”

He didn’t even look at you, his teeth gritted as he glanced around at the bodies on the ground. “Shut up.”

He spotted something in the distance, something you really didn’t want to see. “Markus-”

“Stay here.”

He ran off, diving for the bazooka and propping it on his shoulder. You huffed, “Not like I can go anywhere.”

You ducked and covered your face with your arms as fire exploded around you. 

“And now, we are free!” Markus' voice carried on the wind, reaching the rescued androids below you. You leaned on Connor for support as you held your side, waiting to repair yourself. 

His voice was stronger than you ever heard, full of a righteous conviction of finally being free. Detroit was yours, your people were free. And never again would you allow yourself to be someone else’s puppet. 

“Too frilly?”

You did a spin in your dress, putting on a mini-fashion show for Markus. 

“Not at all.” He stood from his office chair and walked towards you, a grin slowly spreading on your face. His bliss was contagious, a smile forming on your own face as he gripped your waist. “You look gorgeous.”

You shrugged, “I got nostalgic. Wanted to feel girly again.” With some confidence boosting from Markus you were going to perform again. Not over the top idol group performance. But you were going to get back into singing, finally being able to discover your own voice. 

“Girly instead of the badass ruler of the northern district of Detroit?”

You rolled your eyes and scoffed. “Lord, Markus, you make me sound like some dictator.” He glanced to the side and shrugged slightly, you smacked him in the shoulder, but you couldn’t drop your own smile. “Quit it.”

There was a warmth inside you as you stood in Markus’s office. One you’d never experienced before, a happiness and calm where everything just stopped and you were completely at peace. Nothing would ever beat the feeling when you joined hands and just existed within each other. 

You were happy. 

How funny.

end. — I do not own the characters or the game Detroit: Become Human, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

TAGLIST: @chrysanthemum-00

[destielbeatlesminibang]

Masterlist!

And that's a wrap! Many thanks to all the writers, artists and betas who contributed to the first Destiel Beatles Minibang!

If you haven't had a chance, you can check out all the incredible works below!

The Long and Winding Road (Explicit), written by FriendofCarlotta with art by Gemma

1970: Sixteen years have passed since Dean and Castiel parted ways — separated after years of loving each other quietly and secretly at the boarding school they both attended.

Life took them along two very different paths, with Dean drifting across the country for years while Castiel launched a career in academia at Princeton. But now, a twist of fate is set to reunite them: as teachers at the same school where it all began.

Will they be able to find their way back to each other, or is it too late to start all over again?

When My Mind Is Wandering (There I Will Go) (Teen and Up), written by rachelindeed with art by hawkland Finale fix-it: In order to save Dean’s life, Cas has to temporarily take him as a vessel. While Dean’s body heals, they decide to explore what a life outside of hunting could look like. On a volunteer trip a few towns over, they are reminded of the beauty of community. And as Cas’s thoughts mix with his own, Dean learns how freeing it can be to see himself through the eyes of someone who loves him.

While My Guitar Gently Weeps (Teen and Up), written by eyesofatragedy67 with art by witchy-worm

Cas’s deal with the Empty broke Dean’s heart. And no matter what they tried, they couldn’t get him out.

They did manage to take care of Chuck, though, and with him out of the picture, Dean finally hung up his gear and built a life for himself. Or whatever passes for life when the one person you want to share it with most is out of reach.

But Dean’s got his bar, Charlie at his side, and his guitar to keep him company on the nights memories pull him under.

And he hopes against hope that someday Cas will return to him.

Anna, Go to Him (Teen and Up), written by butterflyslinky with art by golby-moon

Dean arrives at a new (but hopefully last) high school, where he meets overachiever Anna. There may be something going on there…if only she would stop talking up this guy called Cas.

Close Your Eyes and I'll Kiss You (Teen and Up), written by tfw_cas with art by golby-moon

Dean Winchester has been secretly in love with his college roommate and best friend Cas for years, but he’s convinced Cas doesn’t feel the same.

When he’s offered a teaching position thousands of miles away, he sees it as an opportunity to be closer to his brother… and maybe give himself some distance from his feelings for Cas. After all, it’s not like they can’t still be friends.

But things go badly when Cas finds out, and Dean’s not sure their friendship is going to survive. And as for his dreams coming true… Well, those are just lyrics, right?

In Matters of Faith (Teen and Up), written by celestial_starlight with art by witchy-worm

After Sam and Dean burn Cas’s body, Dean walks. He leaves Sam with a devil baby he can barely stand to look at and rents a cabin near the field where he spread Cas’s ashes. He prays to Cas day and night, desperate for his faith to mean something. His calls wake Cas and bring him right back to Dean’s doorstep. Dean takes him home, struggling to sort out a rollercoaster of feelings while the three of them figure out how to raise a nephilim child.

Love You With All My Heart (Explicit), written by samanddean76 with art by hexentaenzarin

Dean is an up-and-coming musician, who along with his brother Sam, has finally started to make waves with their band, The Quarrymen. Little does he know that the perfectly innocent Omega sitting in the front row of The Cavern Club, watching him perform with an enchanting smile, is the True Mate he has been longing for his entire life.

Castiel can hardly believe his luck, when he and Gabriel are invited backstage after the show. Once Gabriel slips away with Sam, Castiel is left alone with the incredibly handsome Alpha who spent the entire show singing every single song to him. But the club is raided before they can cement their bond, and Castiel is forced to flee into the night.

Whisked away by an overprotective mother, Castiel doesn’t know if he will ever see Dean again. He seeks solace in writing his poems, and fervently wishes that one day he will be reunited with the man he loves, not knowing that destiny and fate are working to bring the separated mates back together.

Lucy In the Tank With Morons (Explicit), written by queerwerewolf with art by TwinOne

Dean Winchester, a premiere shark biologist at the Georgia Aquarium, who works with their three tiger sharks, never ever expected to find himself enamored with a newly acquired giant Pacific octopus, and more importantly, her exceedingly handsome blue-eyed handler. In a little hide-away beneath the waves, Dean will fall in love in an octopus’s garden.

[am-i-obsessed---maybe]

Dark Glasses - Crowley x Reader (Platonic)

Sooooo, Nanowrimo was a bust, but you know what that means?

We're back with the fanfiction train! Choo Choo!

also reminder that requests are open! (just check out my guidelines first)

Wordcount: 1.9k

Summery: Friends support friends even when your friend is actually a demon but especially when your demon friend just got shot down by his long time angel crush.

The same man has been coming to your bar since you started working there five years ago. The other bartenders told you he's been around since you opened 20 years ago, he never gives his name and comes in with dark glasses no matter what time of day it is or whether the sun is out or not. Although unlike most regulars he doesn't have a specific drink he always orders. Sometimes it’s a rum and coke, sometimes he goes for a more classy bottle of wine, sometimes he'll even order a straight shot of liquor but he always tips well. 

You call him 'Dark Glasses'. You could have called him redhead seeing as his hair was the most vibrant red you'd ever seen. There was no way it was natural but that wouldn't be fair to him. Some people can get very touchy about red hair. 

Instead you called him dark glasses.

Dark Glasses came into your bar one day, sauntering over in the late afternoon, not an unnatural occurrence. The bar was basically empty with the exception of two friends that got a head start on the night's drinking. 

Dark Glasses sat down and you could feel the loss and pain flowing off of him, not like how you can tell with people. It wasn't his expression or body language that gave you the impression though, it was as if you felt his emotions. As if they were ebbing off of him. 

"Give me whatever's strongest" He said and you nodded, something told you he needed to drown out his sorrows. 

“One bone dry martini coming right up” you said. 

As you mixed his drink you periodically looked over at him, the poor guy was thrown over the bar as if it was the only thing keeping him from crying. 

You walked over to him and handed him the drink. 

"There you go sir" You said and he perked up only slightly, took the glass from you and downed the entire thing in one go. 

"I'll need another one" He said, pushing the glass back in your direction.

You stared at him, "That, that was a glass of straight vodka. three shots of vodka." You said, stunned. 

"I thought you said this was a martini" The man mumbled. 

"Yes, the glass is coated in a little bit of vermouth, that's what makes it so dry... You just downed three shots of vodka like it was nothing" You said. 

"Got a high tolerance, now can I get another one please?" He asked and honestly you were a bit too stunned to say no. 

After two more though you knew he was done. Normal people, even those with a high tolerance like he apparently has can't drink more than 6 shots of vodka without getting drunk and he was drunk. 

Mind you, not the fun kind he normally is. You're familiar with Dark Glasses when he's drunk. He slurs and gets very bold and flirty as well as clumsy, though not touchy which always surprised you. Now though, now was different. Now he was a sad drunk. Moping all around the bar. He could barely walk, instead he swayed from side to side and his flirting, something you could usually count on to raise your spirits, became lowley grumbling. 

"I think that's enough" You said, taking what little remained of his third glass and pouring it out.

"What? No! I'm fine" He tried to say but struggled with the last word. 

"No, you're drunk. You can stick around but the only thing you're getting is water" You told him and he made a face that almost looked like a snake trying to give puppy dog eyes. 

"Come on Y/N, you know me, I can handle anything" He said, pulling you by the sleeve over the bar. 

He's never initiated contact like that before. Not with anyone. 

"Alright, that's enough. Go home" You told him and he deflated. 

"Can't," He said. 

"What do you mean can't?" You asked. 

He had a home. He'd told you about it. A nice flat in mayfair with lots of plants. 

"Can't. Don't live there anymore" He said and you looked genuinely surprised. Is that what has him so down in the dumps? Was he evicted? Did the bank repossess his apartment?

"What about that bookseller friend of yours in Soho? Can't you stay with him?" You asked and he shook his head. 

"He's gone. He went to heaven" Dark Glasses said.

"Oh I'm so sorry" You said, maybe that was why he was so down. 

"How about this, I finish my shift in a couple hours, you can crash on my couch" You told him. You'd never have said this to anyone else but you knew Dark Glasses. You knew he was sweet though he hated when someone pointed it out and you knew he needed help. 

"You would do that for me?" He asked and you smiled. 

"What can I say, you tip really well" You joked and managed to get a chuckle out of him before he went back to moping. 

A few hours later He was leaning on you as you walked him out of the bar. Somehow still just as drunk as when you'd taken away his last drink.

"Wait, wait, wait, how are we going to your place?" He asked. 

"Car" you said. He wasn't heavy but keeping him walking in a somewhat straight line out was difficult.

"My car?" He asked. 

"No. You are not driving. My car" You told him and led him over to where your slightly beat up old car was parked. 

"Now come on, in you go" You said, trying to help him in. It took a minute but he managed to shimmy in comfortably enough for someone with very little control of their extremities. 

"I don't like this car" He complained. 

"Too bad" you told him, got in and drove off.

"Why are you helping me? You're never this nice" He slurred. 

"You're never this mopey" You retorted. 

"Yeah but, but..." He trailed off. 

"We're almost there just don't fall asleep the last thing I need is to try to drag you up to my place" You said and he nodded. 

"Don't worry, I won't, I can sober up whenever I want" He said and you shook his head. Sometimes Dark Glasses said the craziest things when he was drunk. Sometimes he'd say them when he wasn't drunk but that was neither here nor there. 

You eased him through the door to your flat and he smiled. 

"You have plants, very nice Y/N" He said and you smiled. 

"Thank you now you go sit down before you collapse all over my floor" You told him and he did as he was told, sitting down and then sprawling himself over your couch. 

"He used to do this too, when I was too drunk, he'd bring me in and tell me to sit" he slurred and you turned to him, confused. 

"Who?" You asked. 

“My angel” Dark Glasses said. You came over to him with a glass of water.

"It's hard, when someone dies. Grief is a powerful thing" You told him and he shrugged. 

"I wouldn't know" he said, slurping down the contents of the cup. 

"Just sleep. You'll feel better in the morning" you told him, spreading a blanket over him and placing the cup on the coffee table. 

"Try to make it to the toilet if you puke" You told him and went to bed yourself. 

Crowley had never been hungover. He'd always sober up before it got to that point but this time he didn't. Even the thought of sobering up made him think of his drinking sessions with Aziraphale. 

But Aziraphale left. He went to heaven and left Crowley to drown out his sorrows the human way. 

The first thing you woke up to was the loud sound of someone vomiting. 

"Please god let him have made it to the toilet" You said to yourself, throwing off the blacket and going to check on your mysterious guest. 

She must have thought it would be funnier to scare you because Crowley in fact made it to the toilet. Luckily. 

Crowley was practically puking his life out, once it was all out, at least for now, he heaved. 

"How do humans do this?" He asked. He had half a mind to miracle it all away.

"With years of practice" You said, making your presence known. 

"Ahhh!" He shouted, falling back on his butt only to rub at his head and groan, "Ugh". Now everything hurt even more than before.

He still had his sunglasses on, though the bathroom lights were off and the sun hadn’t even come up yet. 

"I always thought you were pretty strange but now I'm starting to wonder if you're sane at all" You said. 

"If you're worried I'll go crazy and attack you, you needn't be." He said quietly and you rolled your eyes. 

"As if you could with the way you are right now, you look like you've been dragged through hell" You said and Crowley looked back down at the toilet. 

"Oh you have no idea" He said. 

At this point he was simply sitting criss-crossed in front of the toilet so you sat down on the bathroom floor next to him. Checking the time, it had only been a few hours.  

"I know you've gotten drunk before, have you seriously never been hungover?" You asked. 

"Never" He said. 

"I don't think I believe you" You said. 

“Well it’s the truth” He said. 

“You are one strange specimen Glasses” You said.

“Glasses?” He asked. 

“Oh, um, you never told any of us at the bar what your name was so we just called you Dark Glasses… cause you’re always wearing your dark—”

“Yeah I get it” He said. “It’s Crowley by the way” 

“That’s quite the original name” You said.

“Used to be Crawley but that was a bit too” He made a hissing noise with his tongue and you noticed it was thin and split, like a snake’s.

“You know sometimes I wonder if you’re even human with all the strange shit that comes out of your mouth” You joked and Crowley laughed and then smirked. 

“You wanna know a secret?” He asked. 

You looked at him skeptically. “Do I?” You asked. 

He shrugged, “It’s up to you really” He said. 

“Then, yeah I guess”

“I’m a demon” He said. 

You chuckled.

He didn’t laugh. 

“No”

“Yes”

“I was the serpent of eden” He said, smiling.

“That’s not– no… cause that would mean that god” He nodded, “And satan” He nodded again. 

“The world almost ended four years ago” He says. It’s almost as if seeing your reaction is helping him get his spirits back. 

“You can’t just drop a bomb like that and move on!”

…

“How come it didn’t?” You asked. 

“We convinced the antichrist that the earth was actually pretty nice” He said.

“We?” You asked. 

“Aziraphale… and I” He said, his voice dwindling. 

“He’s that bookseller friend of yours right?” You asked and Crowley nodded.

“He’s the one that died, I’m so sorry Crowley” You said, putting a comforting hand on Crowley’s shoulder. 

“He didn’t die.” Crowley said. 

You looked at him, “But you said he went to heaven” “He’s an angel, my angel” Crowley said, his voice wasn’t a white, it was more just, sad and full of grief. 

“He went off to become the new supreme archangel of all of heaven” Crowley said, this time he was in fact whining. 

“Well then, he could come back” You said but Crowley shook his head.

“Not after he said he forgave me” He said. 

“Forgave you for what?” “Kissing him,” Crowley said sorrowfully. 

Oh.

“I’ll go get us both some wine” You said. 

[punkypiscesell-writes]

Give me a minute

Frankie Morales x f!/gn! reader

Summary: Frankie has been your best friend for a long time. You can share everything with him, except this time you’ve been dealing with your anxiety alone and have been having trouble putting it all into words.

warnings: soft!Frankie, anxiety, fluff, not canon compliant, no use of y/n, no pronouns or physical descriptions mentioned for reader. Not beta read.

word count: 3.6k

Notes: This is totally self-indulgent after having a bit of a rough patch in the past month. If you’ve been struggling lately, I’m sending you tenderness. It's only temporary and we will get through this.

Divider by saradika-graphics

Your Fridays with Frankie have become a tradition. You might go out for dinner, just the two of you, grab a drink somewhere, have a quiet night in, ordering takeout and watching a movie.

You always look forward to it, the moment when you see his dark curls peeking under his cap, his button-down shirts over his broad shoulders, the way he walks over to you with his head down, his hand tucked into the pocket of his tight jeans.

When he lifts his head up, his face lights up and it’s easy to answer the smile he offers you. Frankie always greets you with a hug. You don’t remember when you started to hug each other, but the longer you’ve known each other, the longer and softer the hugs have become. They linger and let you take a breath before you separate and go about your plans together.  

You arranged to meet up at your place this week. You’ve had to cancel for the past three times, with the same apologies and explanations, “I just need a bit of time to get adjusted to my new job, I promise it won’t take long now, it’s already better.” Even Frankie’s invites for you to join him, Santiago, Will and Ben have gotten you to offer him the same answer. You know he can pick your words apart by now. He knows you’re saying it all because you want to believe it to be true.    

Since the last time you saw him, you haven’t really had time or energy to take care of your home. You’ve piled dishes in the sink and now they’re spilling onto the counter next to it. You have clothes scattered here and there, the laundry basket full and your wardrobe getting emptier of possible clothes you could wear. Random piles of random things litter different surfaces, mail on the table next to the front door, your work laptop, and some papers you’ve dragged home with it on the dining table, only a small space cleared for you to eat at.

The coffee table next to your couch is covered with small bowls and mugs, some that you tried to pile and clear out but realized there’s no more space in the sink. A few books and magazines in different stages of reading, some with bookmarks, some with random pieces of paper sticking out between the pages.

You spilled your drink from one of the mugs a few days ago and the paper towels you used to dry it up with are still on the table, in crumbled balls. They left behind white fibers that stuck to the wood and now the table looks even worse.

The doorbell rings and you let Frankie in. You smile when you see him, but he can see the strain in it, how it’s like a change of clothes that you can take off when the door closes behind him at the end of the night.

Frankie leaves his usual blue cap onto the table next to your door, right beside your home keys, as he always does when he comes around. It’s a spot that you’ve started to leave empty just because you know he’ll leave it there. He pushes his fingers through his hair, mussing the flattened curls back into place. He reaches for you, closing you into a hug that makes you shut your eyes and take a deep breath.

“I’ve missed you,” he confesses with gentleness in his eye, his hands resting on your shoulders.

“Missed you too.” There’s a genuine glimmer of happiness on your face, until it reverts back into the forced strain against your cheeks.

He follows behind you into the living room and you can pick apart every inch of your apartment that you usually keep organized. You look at him over your shoulder, sensing the pulled together brows even before you see them. “I’m good, just a bit tired, don’t worry. Sorry about the mess.”

It has become a weird habit for you to clean before anyone comes over. That you have to have everything in order, comfortably homey but still kept together. Now the clutter stands out even more, out of place and out of the ordinary. Frankie has said it multiple times now, that you don’t have to clean for him at all. “I’m here to see you, not your apartment,” and he finished his words with that familiar warm smile that you answer every time almost reflexively.  

“No, no reason to be sorry, I’ve said it before –“

“Yeah, that you don’t mind if it’s messy, your apartment is messy most of the time as well.” You laugh but the sound splutters out of your throat painfully.

He offers you the snacks he brought; some new popcorn flavor that sounded good just a couple of days ago when he said he had seen them at the store. Now even the thought of them makes you grimace. He already pops a grape into his mouth when you leave him to make the popcorn in the microwave.

You stare at the puffing bag rotating on the glass plate, the smell of the cooking kernels wafting in the air already.

“Did you hear me?” The words settle into your ears slowly, one letter at a time, until you realize Frankie is talking to you.

“What?” The microwave dings and you take the hot bag out, dropping it into a bowl.

“I asked if you’d like to watch the movie you mentioned last week?” He cranes his neck when he hears your footsteps getting closer, the comfortable softness on his face giving you a moment of solace before your head is forcing you out of this moment with your friend again.

“Yeah, sounds good.” In reality you can’t remember what movie you had mentioned. You settle on your couch next to him and make room for the bowl beside the grapes that are still beading with water after you washed them. You pop the steaming bag open and dump the fresh, savory treats into the awaiting bowl.

“Oh shit, I forgot the beer,” you gasp out and are already standing up when Frankie stops you with his palm landing on your arm.

You see that softness on his face that you’ve become to find comforting in the time you’ve known him, but you can also see the worry underneath. The kind that is watching you, trying to understand what is going on through your actions since you’re not telling him what is on your mind. “It’s okay, we can drink later if we feel like it.” You nod your head almost in a robotic, twitchy way.

He presses play on the movie and the TV screen is filled with vibrant colors. The music from the intro is supposed to give you a sense of what’s to come. You only get more anxious from the booming instrumental and the echoing singing of a choir.

It’s a movie everyone is talking about. The memory of mentioning it to Frankie comes back to you slowly. You had wanted to see it, so you’d have something to talk about with the colleagues in your team at work who had gone out to see it together.

You’re not completely sure what the premise of the movie is but when the main character is the one looking in, watching others laughing and enjoying their time together, the feelings you’ve been swallowing come crashing down.

The lack of connections. The smile you have to force yourself to wear at work when you see your colleagues making plans with each other, discreetly turning their backs on you. The way you’ve started to believe your voice doesn’t really matter when no one answers you.

It's hard enough at your new job when you’re automatically the odd one out, the new one. Someone who needs a bit of time to find out their own place, the one who is always a little on the sidelines, always welcomed to join but doesn’t get an invite.

You act like you understand what the others are talking about. You listen to their stories of people you have no idea who they are. You laugh when they do, only to find out it’s an inside joke when someone says that you should’ve been there to really know what is so funny about it.

When you get back home you try to convince yourself you just need to work a little harder to show them that you’re a valuable part of the team already. You just need to push a little harder, do a bit more, be a bit more active to be seen for the person you are.

The first week you were glad to do it. Now you don’t know what has happened. Why are you feeling so discouraged, so dismissed, so empty and invisible. Your head feels so full and all these thoughts are suffocating you from the inside out.

Your thigh is pressed against Frankie’s as he focuses on the movie. You pull away from him, wrap yourself protectively in your blanket and curl in yourself, like a little turtle hiding itself in its shell. You feel the familiar sting in your eyes. It has been a while since you cried. You’ve been adamant in not letting those tears fall.

Now, watching this movie that is so far from what you’re experiencing, it somehow digs itself into your chest and forces out the tears that you’ve been holding in the whole day. You clear your throat, and discreetly wipe away the tears that spill from your eyes, breathe through your mouth to hide the sniffles from your nose. It doesn’t stop the salty droplets from falling. Hiding is only making you feel worse and the irrational need to escape takes over.

“Keep the movie on, I’ll be back in a sec,” you choke out and push yourself off the couch, dropping the blanket in the process. Frankie hears you cursing under your breath, but you don’t stay to lift it off the floor.

He follows you with his gaze and sees you wiping at your face. You lock the bathroom door and turn on the faucet immediately, drowning out any sounds under the hissing water against the sink. The movie drones on in the background, Frankie’s focus torn far away from it. He wasn’t that into it anyway, the settings and characters a bit too pretentious for his liking.

When you don’t come back in a few minutes, he pauses the movie and listens to the sounds from the bathroom. He hears your sniffles, followed by a whimper that isn’t something he’s used to hearing when he’s with you.

You’ve known each other for a few years now. There was a time when you were just acquaintances, passing each other when Santiago introduced the rest of the group to his new girlfriend and her friend, you. Ben and Will were their usual selves, asking questions and making you both feel welcomed and included.

Santiago kept his girlfriend under his arm the whole night, like they were glued together, and you sipped at your drink and listened to everyone talk with glinting eyes and a wide grin on your lips. You answered when someone asked you a question, and sometimes you got a word in through the excited chatter.

Deep down you were a little shy, just like Frankie. He could recognize a like-minded person a mile away. A little timid at first but after some warming up you dared to let your personality through. After the first time you met you often joined them for a night out at a local bar or came to listen to live music in a small underground club. Sometimes you even came to watch Ben’s MMA fights but those were mostly for meeting the group rather than to watch the match. You were too soft natured for it, you once said.

It happened sneakily, the connection you and Frankie built between each other. It was a surprising realization that you share the same taste in music, had similar opinions about movies you had seen, important core memories from a place you both had visited at some point in your lives.

Even after Santiago and his girlfriend broke up, you still wanted to join a night out. Suddenly the group melted away as you talked only to each other, not caring about the conversations the others were having. Your discussions were always deep and intimate even in loud environments.

There was an urge to always find out more of each other, to talk until you were too tired to form coherent sentences. You both were clinging onto every word, memorizing details that made either of you smile, reach for the other in understanding, laugh in a way that was like you had known each other always, familiar and comforting. It has always been easy between the two of you.

Frankie knows you have your off days. The days when you would much rather be on your own, maybe curl on your bed for a nap, have a bit more time for yourself to process the thoughts that race through your head. Sometimes you crave for the company of your friend, even if it’s only to spend time together and not do anything special in particular. It was a way to get you out of your head, to get you to forget the things that got you down in the first place.

You’ve told him about the experiences you’ve had before. How you’ve felt like an outsider. How it’s hard for you to trust others. How you’re always a little careful when meeting new people until you let them fully in. That made him proud that you had chosen him as your friend, as someone who you share your thoughts with, who you can be yourself with. Most of the time.

Frankie presses his hand against the bathroom door and listens. The muffled crying makes uneasiness settle in his chest.

“You okay?” He taps his knuckles gently against the surface. You clear your throat immediately and a strained “uh-huh,” follows.

“Can you open the door?” There’s a moment of quietness that he’s not sure you’re going to fill.

“You need to use the bathroom?” Your questioning voice is weak and thick. Something’s wrong. The uneasiness sinks heavily from his chest into his stomach.

“No, but I’m worried about you.” The silence that stretches after Frankie’s confession is excruciating as he waits for your decision. Are you going to let him in or pretend that you’re okay.

The continuous sound of water splashing against the sink stops when you turn the tap off. The stillness you offer him becomes unnervingly loud.

The lock klicks and you push the door ajar. Frankie is leaning against the wall with his arms over his chest, peering in to see your face. He reaches his fingers against the edge of the door and opens it more to let you out, to see your reddened eyes, the puffy turn of your lips, tears still streaking your cheeks even when you try to wipe them away.

You try to get some of the worry off his face by attempting a small smile. It only makes more tears spill from your eyes and Frankie’s heart chip from the edges as it thumps uncomfortably when he sees how broken you are.

“Come here,” he pulls you gently against his chest, cradling you in his arms.

The pressure is comforting, his arms around you, his large hands on your back, his fingertips digging into the tight muscles that only tell you about the stress and anxiety that have made their home in the deepest depths of your being. It has been with you for a while again, you just haven’t let it boil over. Until now.

“What happened?”

“It’s just… a lot” Frankie’s hands pause for a moment against your back, until he continues to trail them slowly up and down, warming up your skin under the cotton of your shirt.

“What is?”

“Everything,” you whine, and it feels so pathetic to be weeping against his chest, drying your tears in the worn fabric of his shirt, leaving dark spots against it. You squeeze his button-up on his back gently in your fists to feel his warmth and care against you, to get him closer. His breathing calms you down, the steady rhythm of his inhales and exhales encouraging you to follow his lead to soothe your stammering heart.

“Tell me about it,” he suggests softly, his voice in your ear, his breath against your skin. You nod and let him lead you back to the couch. He picks up the blanket off the floor and sits you down before he wraps it around the both of you.

Your body fits against Frankie’s side, his arm over your shoulders. You tuck your head against the crook of his neck and stare at your joined hands. You play with the hem of his shirt as his thumb caresses the back of your palm as light as a feather.

With every inhale you smell him a little more. His gentle sweetness and saltiness, that familiar scent of a cologne that is somewhere between fresh and warm. You once told him you liked it and since then he always wears it around you.

You notice the TV screen has gone black; the movie long forgotten. The popcorn and the grapes on the coffee table look trivial, like they don’t really belong there. Everything around you is a little tilted, a little off, with you.

“What’s the first thing on your mind?” You close your eyes and open your mouth. You let Frankie in on those thoughts that sometimes feel a little too scary to put into words, the immense loneliness and purposelessness glaring at you straight in the eyes.

It’s sometimes so hard to admit that you have those feelings, how you’ve battled with them for so long. They come and go, sometimes leaving you for longer periods and then sometimes swim in with a tide of other things that don’t go your way.

Frankie listens to you without caring about the soft noises from the street below your apartment that sometimes come in through the closed window. Every now and again his palm strokes down your arm until he squeezes you a little tighter against him.

You let it all out. Some of the tumbling words get accompanied by a fresh wave of tears. Some of them make you shake your head like you can’t believe you’re telling him all of this. Some you hear yourself say but feel as if you’re detaching from them and from you. And some hurt, heavy and agonizing in your body.

Until there’s no words left to describe whatever is left inside your head. It’s all just a jumbled mess of emotions at this point. Memories, words, people’s voices that you remember from years ago.

“Then there’s the clearest emotion.”

“What?” Frankie asks when you start to giggle.

“I feel so stupid.”

“Why?” His voice sounds like his mouth is right against your ear. His breath puffs against your forehead.

“Because I know I’m not alone. I know I have a purpose even if I don’t know it yet exactly. I know it’s all in my head and it still feels as real as everything around us. I just can’t seem to convince myself that I’m not worthless, that it’s all just a bunch of lies my anxiety is telling me.”

“Hey,” his commanding tone and the shift in his body makes you lift your head off his shoulder and look at him in the eye. He’s serious, the worry still ever present on his soft features, the downturn of his brown eyes a little heartbroken at your words.

The expression on Frankie’s face wipes away the self-deprecating jokes you’d want to make in a flash. They remind you to not laugh at yourself or how you feel. “Whatever your head tells you, you’re not worthless. No matter how many times I have to remind you of that, I always will.” His voice is low, almost a whisper, seeping into your consciousness slowly, and with care.

“I know,” you nod your head in confirmation, and hug yourself around him once more, your arm settling over the softness of his middle. You feel his lips press against your forehead, pressing still when you crawl even closer to feel that patient support he offers you in abundance. His scruffy cheek settles against your head as you feel yourself relax against him.

The tears stop flowing. The over critical voice that is always ready to put you down and remind you of your fears and failures in your head is a little quieter than before. The ache in your chest is a little duller. Maybe you needed a good cry, maybe you needed to tell someone that you’re struggling. Maybe it’s them both.

“Whatever you feel, it is as real as everything around us. I’m here for you, just like you’ve been there for me in my darkest moments.” The gentle whisper almost disappears into the setting dark behind your window.

“You can count on me.” You breathe the words in, feel the comfort of them. You nod against the steadiness of Frankie’s shoulder, and he sighs out in relief. He listens to your breaths slowing down until he knows you’ve fallen asleep. The quiet around him and the closeness of your body against his side make his eyes heavy.

The lights are still on when Frankie wakes up. He possibly slept for only a few minutes or maybe it was a few hours. He wouldn’t know. It’s still dark outside and he doesn’t want to jostle you when he sees the calmness on your face. The blanket on top of you both has slipped a little, fallen towards the floor. Frankie fixes it, giving you most of it to keep you warm and safe.