#day 13 adrenaline

[blackrosesandwhump]

June of Doom Day 13

“Wait!” | Sacrifice | Adrenaline | Cornered

CW: magic whump, self-sacrifice, poison, suicide, royal whumpee

Locked in his own chamber, whumpee drags himself to his bed and collapses, adrenaline coursing through his veins despite his terrible weakness.

The last sign before the change, he whispers to himself. Weakness. The final stage.

His body is failing. His human body. Soon—within the hour—that body will cease to exist, and in its place will be a hideous monster. A monster that will destroy everyone who crosses its path. Already whumpee’s hands are starting to change, the flesh shrinking and greying, dark webs of blood vessels stretching across them. He can’t bear to look at them as he attempts to pull himself upward.

The hands that once served a kingdom. The body that was meant to be king.

With a cry of anguish and pain, he gives up and collapses against the bedframe, unable to continue. He’s too weak. The floor is a fitting resting place for a monster, he thinks, reaching a shaking hand into his vest.

This poison will only work on a human. It has to be now. Now, before it’s too late—

“Your highness!” The door rattles. Someone pounds frantically, desperate to get in. “Please, open the door!”

“You can’t…help me now,” the prince rasps, clutching the vial tight in his cursed fingers. “I must…I have to…” Pain sears up from his chest, obliterating his words. Now. It has to be now.

“Your highness, wait! Please wait!” The pounding starts again, echoing in the prince’s skull. “There has to be another way—please stop—”

It’s the only way, the prince whispers. With the last of his strength, he uncorks the vial. Salvation for his kingdom. Salvation from the monster that will destroy them if it survives.

“Wait!”

As his transformation begins in earnest, as the curse does its work, the prince drinks. The poison is swift and potent.

Death for the monster.

Salvation for his kingdom.

[hereticsgravesite]

.

[imaginaryf1shots]

Soulmate | Max Verstappen Ver.

WC: 4.1K

Max x journalist!reader

Summery: you live in a world where soulmates exist, and until you find yourself, you only see in black and white.

Warnings: none?

Masterlist

Max Masterlist

Lewis Ver. , Oscar Ver. , Charles Ver.

In a world where everyone is born seeing black and white, the promise of seeing colour is on everyone's mind. The key to unlocking the colours is your soulmate. Meeting their eyes will make you be able to see all the hues and shades of the world. Those who see colours describe it so beautifully. People usually discover their soulmates between the age of 18 and 25, some earlier and some later. However, some people start to lose hope when year after year passes and no colour is introduced into their lives.

You have lived your life hoping and believing that one day, a single glance will change your world. But as you've hit your adult years and not a single colour, you've lost hope, all your friends and family see colour already, even your 13 year old cousin. So you just came to terms with seeing life in monochrome. You just focused on your career, building it up and making something of yourself.

You've worked in a few sports before, football, tennis before you moved to motorsport, starting with NASCAR then Formula 2 and here you are now after two months in Formula 2 you've been promoted to Formula 1. The world of formula 1 is very fast-paced, and you find yourself deep in it, watching old races and interviews and races. The sport intrigued you, the races, the adrenaline, the drama.

Due to your easy going nature, and how you can get people comfortable, you've been made to interview the drivers for a new segment for F1TV, a room was giving to you on track and each week you sit down for a long interview with two drivers.

“I just don't understand. Why won't you try it?” You heard your mum's voice through your phone's speaker. Rolling your eyes at her words as you got ready for the day. “Don't roll your eyes at me.”

You sigh and wonder how she always knows when you do that. “Mum, I told you, I don't want to.”

“I just don't get why, I've heard of so many stories of people being happy after they try it.”

“Mum, please, I'm busy with work, I don't have time for any of this.” You exasperated.

“That excuse died a long time ago.” Your mum fought back.

“Mum, I love you, but you just don't get it, so please just leave me be.” 

“I only say this because I care about-”

“You don't understand, and you never well, okay, you found dad when you were 19, you've found him and you never had to go on dates for people who lost or gave up, and yes I kind of lost hope, I'm not getting my hopes up anymore, but it kills me, why do I not have a soulmate, everyone I know already found theirs and I hear about it all the time, I'm lonely, I'm extremely lonely, even when I'm out with friends when we have family gatherings I'm lonely, and I heat about colours and shades and all I see is grey, so don't try to enterfer anymore please, just let me be.”

There was a long moment of silence.

“I'm sorry, love.” Was all she could say in the end. “I didn't realise.”

“I know you didn't.” Your voice sounded defeated. “I have a to go, I'll talk to you later.”

“Okay, honey, talk to you later.”

Your conversation with your mother left you feeling down and unmotivated.

This weekend, you'd be interviewing Alex Albon and Max Verstappen. Alex came first, and you sat down in front of the cameras for the lengthy interview. The set was cozy, and Alex was a blast to interview. You talked about racing to his pets, to golf, to his dreams, and so on. Alex is funny and easy to talk to you, so the interview went smoothly, and he didn't stop talking, and it all just flowed easy between the two of you. Even with your bad mood, you still enjoyed your time, and your mood got better.

After Alex left with a quick hug, you were told that Verstappen would be coming a bit later than anticipated, so you'd have 45 minutes between the interviews. That time, you and the crew took a break and ate some food before you had to be ready once more for the reigning world champion. And right before he came in, one of the crew rushed in and went straight to you and the producer.

"Max is apparently in a very bad mood. The media panel today was a disaster." He told the two of you, your eyes met the producers in worry. You've seen interviews of angry Max, and you weren't looking forward to interviewing him, not after the morning you had.

"I thought we only had drivers without the panel for the week?" You asked, confused.

"I did, too. There must've been a mix-up either with us or his schedule." The producer told you. "What was he asked?"

"Uh, they asked about him not finding his soulmate, and if it's maybe a sign that he's meant to be alone." You and the producer gasped at the rude question, of course his mood was soured, you don't ask or speak about people who haven't found their soulmates like that, you knew the pain of not finding your other half very well, and it's always painful to constantly asked about if you found them. "They even asked if he thinks his mood will get better once he does and if he'll calm down."

"Wow, that's just, that's so rude." The producer said and looked at you. Everyone knows you haven't found yours as well. The producer gave you a smile and patted your shoulder. "Don't worry and just stay calm. Our questions aren't intrusive or uncatting. We don't have anything about his love life.”

“You're right.” You nod to yourself in encouragement.

Max walks in with his entourage, his press officer walks over to you and the producer, she tells you to just jump into the interview seeing as he ran late to come here and he has other things he needs to do after.

You glance at the driver as he gets mic-ed up. Max's presence was imposing, his haw was set, and his eyes were hard. You could feel his mood even from a distance. The producer hurried you along.

You sat on the comfortable sofa, you try out the sofas each week to make sure it's comfortable for the drivers, as the sport light was on you. You introduced yourself with a fake smile, glancing at Max for a second before looking at your notes.

"Good afternoon, Max." You started calming your racing heart by saying to yourself that this is just an interview. "Thank you for taking the time to speak with us today. How are you feeling about this weekend's race?"

"It's going to be a challenging race, but I'm confident." Max's expression remained guarded, but he responded as calmly as he could. "The team has done a great job, as we're well-prepared."

"That's always good to hear." You replied, keeping your tone light. Maybe this won't be too bad. "This track has a lot of history. Do you have any special memories or moments here that stand out to you?"

"Definitely, this was one of the first tracks I raced in in Formula 1." Max's gaze softened, and yet again, your eyes just looked all over his face not meeting his eyes, even in monochrome you couldn't deny how good looking he is, you wondered what colour his hair is, it looks soft.

"It's a very demanding track, but once you get it right, it's very rewarding."

"That's wonderful." You nodded, feeling the tension ease just a bit. "Now, moving away from racing for a moment, how do you usually unwind during the season? Especially with such a long season, do you have any hobbies or activities that help you relax?"

As you asked the question, you looked up, meeting Max's eyes for the first time. In that split second, and as you blinked, everything changed. The world around you, previously in grayscale blur, just erupted into vibrant, breathtaking colour. Starting from Max's eyes, their shades the first thing you've seen, and moving to the color of his clothes, the sofa and everything around you, everything has come to life in a way you've never experienced before. Max's eyes warm and held an expression mirroring your own.

Max blinked, and in an instant, his stern an slightly annoyed façade/mood broke, a genuine smile that he never had before broke across his face.

"I-uh." He cleared his throat to try and regain some of his composure after the revelation he just had, both your eyes meeting and not straying from each other. "I enjoy spending time with my family and friends." He said, his voice softer, almost as if he was speaking to you alone. "I also spend a lot of time sim racing and gaming with my friends, a bit of FIFA here and there."

Like Max, you could hardly believe what had happened, fighting to maintain your composure, you continue a smile tugging at your lips. "That sounds like a lot of fun. Do you ever play FIFA with other drivers? I imagine it would get pretty competitive."

"Yes, we do, sometimes." Max chuckled, the tension between the two of you completely dissolved to the amazement of everyone behind the cameras. "It's always a good time, and it definitely gets competitive. We take it seriously, even though it's just for fun."

The crew keeps exchanging confused glances unaware of the profound shift that had occurred. You force yourself to focus on the next question, the vibrant colours making everything around you feel surreal.

“Speaking of competition, if you weren’t a Formula 1 driver, what other career path do you think you might have taken?” You asked, genuinely curious.

Max leaned back, considering the question. “I’ve always been passionate about sports, so maybe something related to that, like engineering or coaching. I enjoy working closely with a team and seeing how everything comes together.”

“That’s really interesting.” You said, nodding. “It shows how much you value teamwork and the technical aspects of the sport.”

“What about you?” Max asks, and you look at him confused. “If you weren't a journalist, what would you want to be?”

“Oh, since I choose sports and have been surrounded by it for years, I think I'd be a sportswoman.” You tell him with a smile. “You're lucky, I'm too old to get into karting.”

“Guess, if you were into karting, we would've met years ago.” You knew what he meant. You could've met your soulmate years ago if you'd been in karting. 

“I guess so.” You try not to think about the what ifs as you ask the last question. “One last question that we ask to every driver, what advice would you give to young aspiring drivers who look up to you?”

Max’s eyes met yours again, a spark of connection undeniable between you. “I’d tell them to stay focused and never give up. It’s a tough journey, but if you’re passionate and willing to work hard, you can achieve your dreams. It’s important to stay dedicated, even when things get tough.”

“Great advice, Max. Thank you so much for your time. It’s been a pleasure talking with you.” You concluded, barely able to contain the smile spreading across your face.

Max smiled back, the warmth in his eyes unmistakable. “Thank you. It’s been great speaking with you, too.”

The interview wrapped up, but as the revelation between the two lf you lingered you didn't want to leave, after so many years of guessing who your soulmate be and almost giving up entirely you didn't want to be apart from even for a second.

Max may seem tough to people, strong and determined, but he's spent nights dreaming of when he'd finally meet you. His thoughts lately have been of self doubt, maybe everyone is right, and the reason he hadn't met you yet is that he doesn't deserve you. He's too hot-headed, too aggressive. But here you are, proving him and everyone who doubted him wrong.

The crew, oblivious to the transformation, began packing up the equipment, their chatter and movements a blur in your colourful new world.

Max turned to you, his demeanour noticeably lighter, a subtle smile still playing on his lips. 

“I don’t have my phone with me.” Max managed to find his voice, his voice softer now, almost tentative. “Could I borrow yours for a moment?”

“Of course.” You replied, your voice trembling slightly as you handed him your phone.

He took it with a nod of thanks and quickly entered his number, calling his own phone to ensure that he'll be able to contact you after the day is over. When he handed your phone back, your fingers brushed, and an electric jolt shot through you, confirming the profound connection. As if the colours weren't enough, the electric feeling that went through you is a confirmation. Max left the room with a lingering look at you.

The crew, sensing something unusual but unable to pinpoint it, exchanged puzzled glances. One of your colleagues approached, and his brow furrowed in confusion. 

“What just happened?” He asked, his tone laced with curiosity. “Did you two know each other before?”

You struggled to keep your emotions in check, a smile fighting to break free. “No, we just...connected.” You said, unable to find the right words to describe the whirlwind of emotions and the explosion of colour that had transformed your world.

Max left the room and started to look around, as if he's seeing everything for the first time and in a sense he was. He took in the colours that have been described to him many times before, he looked to the sky and saw the blue everyone described, he saw a few trees and saw the green leaves and the brown trunk. Everything looked so different now.

The rest of the day you both got questions and buzzed looks from those working with you, both your moods are good and it's not wavering, it's not changing. The realisation of what had happened, of finding your soulmate in such an unexpected place, left you reeling.

Later, as the paddock began to empty and the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the vibrant landscape, as you stood and watched your first colourful sunset, you received a message from Max.

Meet me after you finish work. We need to talk.

Time could couldn’t go by fast enough, you kept looking at your phone waiting for Max to tell you where you'd meet  you had finished your work for the day, but work for F1 drivers take kuchen longer than yours. Every moment stretched into eternity as you waited for it to end. As you looked at the sun from the top of the FIA hospitality, you wished Max was with you enjoying your first sunset together. You dont know Max, you know if Max, but you've never met before today, but you feel like you do. It feels like everything is alright, like the world is finally tilted the right way, gravity is finally working.

come to redbull motorhome.

You made the jounry from the FIA building to redbull, right as you reached through building Max came out and gestured for you to come in, trying not to be seen by fans or cameras. He made you walk in front of him, his hand on your back as he guided you. You feel the heat, and even the electricity was evident through the layers of your clothes, you relaxed instantly to his toutch, leaning back into it. Max sighed. It felt like he could toutch you skin to skin, the feeling vibrated through him filling him up.

Max led you to his room. From the tours you've seen other teams do, Max's room looked the best. You both sat on the sofa facing each other. Your eyes were just taking the other in, Max's hair was ruffled, as if he ran his hand through it a lot. You took in his eyes, which you now know are blue, his nose the shape of his jaw, yhe frekle on his lips, you're trying to memorise him. Tattoo him into your mind.

Max took your hand in his, and you wonder if the feeling of electricity will remain forever or will it fade with time. You both close your eyes for a moment. 

“Did you have a good day?” You asked softly after you opened your eyes.

“It didn't start ikay, but there's something that made my day, my week, my life.” Max replied, his voice gentle. You couldn't fight the smile that took over your face. There was a moment of silence, each of you searching for the right words to express the whirlwind of emotions you were feeling.

“I can’t believe what happened earlier.” You began, your voice filled with wonder and disbelief. “I never thought... I had almost given up on finding my soulmate.”

Max nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Me too. I’ve been so focused on racing, I started to think that maybe it wasn’t going to happen for me. But then I saw you, and everything changed.”

You leaned closer, it wasn't a conscious decision, but you were feeling the warmth of his presence. “I’ve been living in black and white for so long, I forgot what it felt like to hope. And now, it’s like... like everything has come alive.”

Max squeezed your hand, sending a familiar electric thrill through you, a reminder of the bond you had discovered. “I know exactly what you mean. I’ve been so caught up in my career, I stopped looking for anything else. But today, meeting you... it’s like the world has finally made sense.” You smiled, your heart swelling with a mixture of relief and joy. “It’s amazing, isn’t it? How we can go from feeling like we’re missing something, to finding everything in a single moment.”

“I’m so glad we found each other. It’s like a dream come true, one I never thought I’d get to experience.” Max’s gaze softened, his eyes reflecting the same vibrant colors that now filled your world.

You squeezed his hand, feeling the connection deepening with each passing second. “I’m happy too. I was beginning to think that maybe it wasn’t meant for me, that maybe I’d never see the world in colour. But now, being here with you... it feels like everything was leading up to this.”

Max’s smile widened, and he leaned closer, his hand still holding yours. “I know we’ve just met, but I feel like I’ve known you forever. It’s like... like we were always meant to find each other, no matter what.”

You nodded, tears of happiness welling up in your eyes. “I feel the same way. It’s like all the waiting. All the wondering was worth it because it brought me to you.”

He gently wiped away a tear that had escaped down your cheek, his touch tender and reassuring. “We have a lot to look forward to.” he said softly. “And I can’t wait to experience everything in colour, either you.” 

You leaned into his touch, your heart filled with a warmth you had never known before. “Me too, Max. I’m so grateful we found each other, even if it took a bit longer than we expected. It was worth the wait.”

He pulled you into a gentle embrace, the world around you fading into a blur of colour and emotion. For the first time in your life, you felt complete, the missing piece of your heart finally found.

As you sat there in his room, the noise from outside faddws away and a that mattered was that you found each other.

Later that week on Sunday, you find yourself in the media pen, Max wasn't on the podium after contact with another driver on track, Max wasn't amused, he hated losing, he was clearly not satisfied. The frustration was evident in his clenched jaw and the tense set of his shoulders as he made his way through the sea of microphones and cameras, his responses curt and tinged with irritation. The incident with another driver had cost him the win, and you could already sense the frustration simmering in the air.

Finally, it was your turn. As he approached, you could see the tension in his posture, the anger still simmering just below the surface. You offered a gentle smile, hoping to soften his mood.

“Hi, Max. Tough race today.” You began, keeping your voice calm and understanding. “Can you walk us through what happened out there?”

Max sighed, his expression strained but slightly less harsh as he met your gaze. “Yeah, it wasn’t great. We were doing well, but then there was contact with another car, and that threw everything off. It’s frustrating because we had a good chance of winning.”

You nodded, listening intently. “I can understand how disappointing that must be. Can you tell us more about the incident? What exactly happened?”

He glanced around, his irritation still evident but less intense than before. “He was going for an overtake, and I thought I had enough room, but we ended up colliding. It cost us a lot of time and positions. It’s just... frustrating.”

Your heart went out to him. You wanted to offer some comfort, to show him that you understood his frustration. Max was leaning his hands on the barrier so you subtly reached out and touched his hand, a gentle, reassuring gesture. He glanced down, surprised, and when he looked back up at you, his eyes had softened.

“I’m really sorry to hear that, Max.” You said, your voice filled with genuine concern. “It must be tough to end the race this way after all the hard work you and the team put in.”

He took a deep breath, his expression relaxing a bit more. “Yeah, it’s not the result we wanted, but that’s racing. We’ll learn from this and come back stronger. Thanks for understanding.”

You offered a supportive smile, your hand still resting lightly on his. “I’m sure you will. You’ve always shown great resilience. What’s the plan moving forward from here?”

Max’s mood seemed to lighten further, the tension visibly easing from his shoulders. “We’ll go back, analyze what happened, and make sure we’re better prepared for the next race. It’s important to keep looking forward.”

“Absolutely.” You agreed, your voice encouraging. “One setback doesn’t define you or the team. You’ve got a lot of races ahead, and I’m sure we’ll see you back on the top soon.”

He smiled, a genuine warmth in his eyes. “Thanks. It means a lot to hear that.”

As the interview wrapped up, Max’s demeanor was noticeably calmer. The frustration from earlier had dulled, replaced by a quiet determination. He glanced at you, a hint of gratitude in his expression.

“Thanks for the interview.” He said, his voice softer once the mic was out of his face. “And for... you know, understanding.”

You smiled back, your heart lifting. “Anytime, Max. I’m sure the next race will be better.”

He nodded, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before he turned to leave. Max will always be grateful for you. He's known you for a couple days, and you both spent all of your free time together and texting whenever you could. He felt like you understood the highs and lows of racing making him bind with you more. You understood sport and how everything can change in a second.

For now, the disappointment of the day was behind him, and the promise of future victories lay ahead. And in that brief, quiet moment, you had been able to offer a bit of comfort, a reminder that even in the toughest times, there’s always a reason to look forward.

Max accidently said he sees colour in one of the interviews a few months later, and so the hunt for his soulmate has begun. Thankfully, since you work in F1, you weren't suspected, and so you were able to keep your privacy. For a while.

During winter break, photos of you were released to the public, and the fans have gone wild. Every single interaction you've had was cut and edited. And the moment your eyes met went viral all over social media, in the F1 sphere and outside of it.

For you and Max, you're both just glad you finally found your other half. That you don't have to go through this world alone.

Vote for the next one

Maintaglist

@gnatthefly . @mochimommy2002 . @llando4norris . @mrswolffs-blog . @barcelonaloverf1life . @c-losur3 . @xoscar03

[prompt-heaven]

smut prompt list no. 1

1) classic only one bed, then oh no we’re cuddling in our sleep that then evolves into sex

2) hate fucking

3) friends with benefits 

4) first time

5) phone sex

6) public sex

7) possessive sex

8) sex outdoors

9) gangbang

10) casual threesome between pals

11) cockwarming after a long day in order to calm down together

12) sex pollen

13) high on adrenaline kind of sex

14) make up sex

15) break up sex

16) inexperienced person gets a little “lesson”

17) reunion sex

18) complicated sex with an ex

19) angry sex in the middle of a fight

20) gentle comforting sex

[bweirdart]

#mARTch 2024

text version (with more info!) under the readmore! please check it out if you're confused about anything <3

F.A.Q

do i have to draw every day? no!!!! there are skippable days built into the event, please use them whenever you need them! i really don't want anyone getting a wrist injury!

can you share my art? yep! i try to share entries to @bweirdevents daily during the event!! the tags can get busy tho so i might miss some posts OTL sorry

what are the tags? #mARTch is the main tag, but this year you might find posts in #mARTch2024 too!

wait, i'm confused about a prompt... full breakdown of all the prompts below ↓ with helpful hints if you're stuck!

_____

INTRO WEEK

this week is all about your artistic identity ... technically, you don't have to draw anything new this week if you have some art that already fits. the starter days are:

1 ⭐ self portrait who are you? it doesn't have to be you IRL .. if you feel more comfortable drawing a fursona or mascot, that's fine too! if you don't wanna draw, you can also just share old self portraits today and talk about why you drew yourself that way!

2 🤍 inspirations see how this day doesn't have a star? that means it's optional and you don't have to do it at all! but if you really wanna- tell us all about what inspires you to create art! this could be anything from the people that inspire you, the shows you like, the pins on your big messy pinterest board, or concepts that you're drawn to! you can draw something about it, talk about it, or just post your inspirations! anything is fine

3 ⭐ fav thing to draw what do you like drawing most? backgrounds? animals? one specific animal? bust of your oc facing left? cars? the same anime boy over and over and over? no judgement!! show us :)

_____

STUDY WEEK

this is the week we actually start drawing from reference! polished art is not required at all, quick sketch studies are fine! please don't burn yourself out

4 🤍 plant

5 🤍 body

6 ⭐ animal

7 🤍 object

8 🤍 food

9 🤍 face

10 ⭐ hand

these ones are pretty self explanatory! you can do them as realistic studies, or adapt them into your own art style, it's all fine! you can reference from your own photos or from resources on the web.. have fun!

_____

COLOUR WEEK

this is the week for playing with palettes and working on your colour theory skills! if you're really struggling with these ones, don't worry about drawing scenes or characters, you can just have fun splashing colours around on an abstract canvas!

11 🤍 RGB a set or primary colours typically used in digital/screen art - red, green and blue!

12 🤍 CMYK a set of primary colours typically used in traditional/print art - cyan, magenta, yellow ... and key (black!)

for both of these days ↑ you can add in black and white. and feel free to combine the two days into one, if you're struggling with a three-colour palette! use all six!

13 ⭐ WARM COLOURS the warm side of the colour wheel, reds oranges and yellows!

14 🤍 MONOCHROME monochrome doesn't mean black and white ... it means one colour! that can be any colour at all- shades of red, shades of purple, shades of green .. or yeah, grey if you really want!

15 🤍 COMPLIMENTARY complimentary colours are the ones opposite each other on the colour wheel! they're kinda married

16 🤍 YOUR FAV COLOURS pick any palette that works for you! where's your comfort zone? what looks nice to you? what colour combos do you always go back to?

17 ⭐ COOL COLOURS the cool side of the colour wheel, purples, blues and greens!

_____

CREATIVITY WEEK

this week is all about vibes! try to create something that matches the mood of the prompt .. they're vague on purpose! don't overthink it, just draw from the heart!

18 🤍 SMALL you could draw something that's really small, like an ant .. or draw on a canvas that's really small .. or use a really small brush .. get creative with it!

19 🤍 DANGER try to capture the adrenaline .. the rush .. the fear that you associate with the word danger!

20 ⭐ SOFT soft colours, soft textures, soft vibes ... whatever makes you comfy!

21 🤍 MIDNIGHT darkness and secrecy .. spooky witchy vibes .. the tranquility of a forest at night .. the fun of a late-night party .. there's lots of ways you can take this!

22 🤍 POWER what does this word make you think about? superpowers? control and oppression? literal electrical power? something else?

23 🤍 CHILL chill as in calm? or chill as in cold? who knows .. it's up to YOU!

24 ⭐ LOUD try to draw something that feels LOUD! BRASH! IN YOUR FACE! how can you convey sound through art?

_____

FUN + GAMES WEEK

this week is just for enjoying yourself! take it easy and have fun! also .. another reminder! there are skippable prompts! if you're tired and struggling to get to the finish line, please don't hesitate to skip a day!!! or multiple days!! as many as you need!!!

25 🤍 TRY A NEW ART STYLE copy the art style of a show you like, ask a friend if you can try their style, draw the eyes a new way, develop a totally new style on the spot... whatever you want!

26 🤍 DRAW WITH YOUR NON-DOMINANT HAND righties, draw with your left! lefties, draw with your right! ambidextrous nation ... our time to show off!

27 ⭐ DRAW WITH YOUR EYES CLOSED don't peek! try to draw something without looking! if you really want, you can colour it with your eyes open after you draw the lines/sketch with your eyes closed... but please try not to cheat with the actual drawing part!

28 🤍 RE-DRAW SOMETHING OLD find some old artwork you like, or something you feel like you can do better on now, and give it another go!

29 🤍 RE-DRAW A MEME find a silly picture on the internet to redraw .. do you have any in-jokes with your besties?

30 🤍 DRAW A GIFT FOR A FRIEND create something for someone you love <3

31 ⭐ FREE CHOICE final day! you can draw anything you want today! show off your skills! draw something you've been meaning to draw! whatever!

_____

please refrain from reblogging this post after march ends - next year's prompts will be different, thank you! if you have any additional questions, don't hesitate to shoot me an ask!

[simpxxstan]

best friend's older brother wonwoo

this is part of my 550 followers celebration event! find the rest of the members' headcanons in the event too as i post them through this month!

warnings: pg 13+, making out

thinking about best friend's older brother!wonwoo who is just nine months older than your best friend, so he's in the same class as the two of you

you don't even want to figure out how that happened. but it's good for you, because it lets you get an upper hand over wonwoo whenever he tries to bully you.

and bully you he does. he's a massive bully. behind that nerdy, good boy look he charms everyone with, you know that jeon wonwoo is an absolute menace to society.

from stealing your essays, to forcing you to show him your solution of homework, he doesn't spare a chance to irritate you. the worst bit is that he's got everyone convinced that he's the best boy that could ever live and no teacher or parent ever finds a fault in him. if the two of you fight, it's always you who gets scolded. if the teacher spots the two of you talking in class, it's always you who gets punished.

after ten years of facing this, you've come to the conclusion that the universe is unfair. it's a relief that you're in your final year of school and finally, you can count the days until you can get rid of this menace.

thinking about best friend's older brother!wonwoo who knows he's pushing luck every time he annoys you

but he still gets away with it, either through sheer chance or through his good looks and manners.

it's just not fair that he's born in this universe where you're always around him, with your indomitable sarcasm and overperforming tendencies. you seem to be made for him, but in the worst way possible. with you out of the scene, wonwoo would always be first in class, always win quizzes and spellbees, always win the 700 metre sack race. naturally, it can't be his fault for thinking of ways to expel you from school.

and when the two of you hit puberty and wonwoo realises that underneath your acne, you're actually growing up into the most beautiful woman he's ever seen, it makes the entire situation even worse. because now, you're the subject of his annoyance and his desires. and he can't get you out of his head for the best and the worst reasons possible.

so wonwoo is equally relieved as you are to be in the final year of school, with the comfort that as he becomes an adult this year, he will finally live a life free of pests (you).

thinking about best friend's older brother!wonwoo who becomes ill the very week of the midterms

as a result, he misses out on several classes of key revision and even some internal tests that will count towards your final score. you score full in all these tests, getting quite the lead ahead of wonwoo, and yet, you don't feel that rush of joy when you see your perfect score. is it because you don't see the frown on wonwoo's face on seeing you beat him? is it because you don't feel the adrenaline kick in on meeting eyes with wonwoo and seeing the disappointment in his eyes?

at night, you recount about your day's academic successes but it doesn't generate any satisfaction in your heart. for hours you stay awake, trying to make sense of the ache in your chest, wondering what's missing these days that's leaving you feeling high and dry.

it's only at 3 am that you attempt something to cure this worry. you sit up, under your table lamp, writing up your notes on fresh paper, in your best handwriting. you even highlight key portions and add extra information beyond class notes, that you've learnt from the web or from the library.

the next day, you drop the notes with your best friend. "give this to wonwoo asap, hmm?" "notes? he said he'll just use mine-" "well, if his pride isn't too much, he will know what's good for him."

thinking about best friend's older brother!wonwoo who comes back two weeks later

he doesn't talk to you at first, trying to avoid your curious gaze. but you confront him in the corridor after classes are over. you stand right in front of him, your hands on your hips, your eyebrows furrowed. "you still look pretty pale," you tell him. a part in wonwoo wants you to touch him and see if the fever's still there. but he knows you'll not do that.

"you didn't have to send the notes. i would get them anyway." "a thank you would be nice." wonwoo bites his lower lip. is he ready to say thank you to you? is this why you sent the notes? to show your pity towards him? to cast a favour on him? to always be one step ahead of him even on the moral ground?

wonwoo doesn't end up saying thank you. his pride is too large a pill to swallow, and his mind keeps doubting your intentions. after all, ten years of rivalry is not easy to let go of, even if you look even more beautiful after two weeks of not seeing you.

but his attitude towards you changes. consciously or not, he becomes less snarky towards you. and he's surprised to see reciprocation too. you seem more open towards discussing homework with him. you even cooperate with him when your teacher asks you both to organise the annual prom event of the school. and wonwoo's pretty sure this cures his health faster than any medicines the doctor's prescribed to him.

thinking about best friend's older brother!wonwoo who's sitting in his shared bedroom with his sister, playing games on his computer, while she gossips with you about the prom couples of the year

wonwoo doesn't come into the room after that, but when you leave the room to use the washroom in the hall, you see him sitting on the couch and reading a book. "it's rude to listen to other's conversations, wonwoo. haven't you ever learnt that?" wonwoo doesn't look up from his book, so you take a step forward, intending to make yourself heard. "it's also rude to not reply to someone when they are talking to y-"

"guess who asked me today!" "man, i don't know, you tell me. when did they even ask you, i was with you the whole day?" "when we were walking back home and you were fighting with wonwoo in the convenience store about which ramen to buy."

your best friend pouts slightly, which she always does whenever she sees you fight with her brother. "i hate it that even after ten years, my best friend and my brother have not been able to get along. i feel like it's a failure on m-" "okay stop feeling guilty already, and tell me who asked you out for prom!" you squeal, and she giggles too, a high-pitched sound that's so different from her brother's breathy, raspy voice (not that you'd ever prefer his voice over hers). "im changkyun! isn't that so exciting!" you gasp loudly, clapping your hand over your mouth. "girl! i'm so excited for you, he's so dreamy." "i know! i had no idea he liked me!" "oh you're so lucky, love. his voice is so deep, and his eyes are so pretty, and he's so smart! what would i not give to be his prom part-" "im changkyun is a smartass and a teacher's pet. i see birds of a feather do flock together, y/n", wonwoo interrupts your conversation suddenly, giving you a piercing look before he walks out of the room in his haughty manner.

"come with me to prom." wonwoo finally looks up, his book kept on his chest, as he looks straight into your eye. you're standing half a metre away from him, but you can still feel the fire in his gaze.

"sorry, what?" "come with me to prom. be my prom partner." you purse your lips, pretending to consider it. "and why would you ask me?" "because you don't have a partner." "how do you know that?" "you just told me." wonwoo stands up, a smirk on his lips. "why are you asking me, wonwoo? i don't need your pity, i don't need a partner to enjoy prom." "you're right. although it's not pity. i'm just returning the favour. your notes are helping me keep up my academic record in order to get into the colleges i want."

it's a reasonable offer. when he frames it like this, it feels less like a personal affair and more of a professional situation-

"truce." you extend your hand and he shakes it. "truce it is." "for all your big talk, i bet you're asking me only because you're bitchless as fuck." wonwoo laughs at that. "don't be jealous. i'll see you on friday, y/n. be ready at 8."

thinking about best friend's older brother!wonwoo who has all eyes on him at the prom party but his eyes are only on you

"everyone's talking about you, you know." your arm is in his as the two of you lean against a wall, digging into the pastries being circulated. it's a blessing you accepted his offer, because a. if you had refused, he'd never be able to meet your eye confidently again, and b. you're the only one promising him intelligent conversation tonight, and he's glad you're the one talking to him.

"it's my dad's tux. it's what he wore at his prom." wonwoo doesn't miss the way your eyes glaze over his outfit in an appreciative look, and it makes his heart beat faster in his chest. "you look good, but i'm sure he looked better than you in it." "but you think i look good?" your eyes meet his, a tentative look that says more than words will. "i do. does it matter?" "well, a man likes to know that his prom partner approves of him." you laugh, your voice a beautiful tinkle. how has he never noticed how melodious your laugh is? "you're hardly a man, jeon wonwoo. you've got a long way to go."

and he'll go the long way. he'll take risks tonight. something about the perfume you're wearing is making him heady. something about the way you never let go of his arm makes his body warm with something unknown but pleasant. something about the way you're close enough for him to notice how often your eyes stray to his lips when you're talking to him makes him want to take a chance.

when the two of you are alone in a balcony, the fresh air blowing your hair away, revealing your elegant neck and a hint of your collarbones, and you're talking something about how a certain book is helping you study for biology, he zones out and his tunnel vision focuses on your lips. so he leans in and kisses you. it's an extremely short, chaste kiss, but wonwoo's never kissed anyone, so even this shoots electric sparks through his veins.

"what was that for?" this is the first time wonwoo's seen you blush, and his hand instinctively reaches out to touch your warm cheeks, trying to understand if it's for you. "i would ask you to prom even if you did have a partner. i didn't want to go with anyone else apart from you." your eyes are delightfully wide, looking so innocent and so cute. there's a pause, as wonwoo waits for you to give him the green signal or not. when he's going to give up and back off, you tug at his arm and pull him closer. "well, then kiss me again, and let me see if like it."

thinking about best friend's older brother!wonwoo who takes you to his car and gets into the back seat with you

"you look so, so beautiful today." he tells you in between kisses, as he pulls you closer to him. and you let him, your mind foggy, and just one thought rushing through your veins- wonwoo, wonwoo, wonwoo. his kisses are addictive, and you're clinging to him like a drug, letting him bite your lips and kiss your jaw and make a mess of your lipstick.

thank god for the privacy of wonwoo's car, and thank god he's learnt to drive early on. because you'd be so embarrassed of the way you're also equally hungrily touching him, as if you'd waited your entire life for this. but you don't have time to question your thoughts, and frankly speaking, you don't want to. you just know one thing for sure: you've been such a fool for hating wonwoo for so long, when he kisses like this and when you're so attracted to him.

when you're both out of breath and just sitting next to each other, slumped back as he holds you close to his chest and you snuggle your face into his warm body, you finally start confronting your thoughts. when you go silent for a moment too long, wonwoo asks you, "penny for your thoughts?"

you look up at him. why haven't you ever noticed how divine he looks under the moonlight? "i was thinking why we didn't do this sooner." "maybe because you were busy hating me." you sit up, gasping and turning around to face wonwoo. "excuse me? and what were you up to? loving me?" wonwoo smiles. "yes, loving you, i think. because i for sure love this sassy attitude of yours. and your smartass brain. and the way your lips purse into a perfect cupid's bow, but that's not the priority." you laugh. "you can just admit you like me because i'm hot." "yes i could. but that's not the whole truth. i could never like a woman who's not as intelligent as you. i could never like a woman who's not you."

and with every word he utters, you realise how his feelings mirror yours as well. just then, both of your phones ping and you simultaneously take it out to see the notification. "my god- i- wonwoo! i got into my dream college! "me too! wow. congratulations, baby, i knew you would. it'd be their loss to not accept someone as perfect as you." you giggle. "shut up, you're so cheesy." wonwoo grins and you lean in to peck his lips.

"okay, show me your letter. let's see how far we'll be-" you take wonwoo's phone in your hands and read the mail. "f-fuck. you didn't tell me? you bloody-" "what happened?" wonwoo's eyes go wide in alarm and you nearly punch him in shock. "you applied to the same college i did! why didn't you tell me! oh, you sneaky boy."

wonwoo bursts out laughing. "why do you look so ready to beat me up? isn't that a good thing?" you pause, considering it for a second, before the dots connect in your head. you finally break into a smile and hug wonwoo, pulling him into a tight embrace. "i guess it is, baby."

[ohtobeleah]

Day 13 [The Guy Next Door]

Summary: When your son shows up on Jake's door scared and all alone, he soon realises that something might be wrong at his neighbour's home.

Warnings: Jake Seresin x F!reader. Mentions of sexual assault. Forced sexual acts. Gun violence. Blood. Self-sacrifice.

Word Count: 4k

Whumptober Prompt Day Thirteen: Whumpee using themself as bait, defiance, “Take me instead.”

Author Note: Please make sure you read the warnings provided. Disclaimer: I do not condone nor endorse the actions that are written about during the month of October. These works of fiction are just that, fiction and should be treated as such. Thank you to @ailesswhumptober for this year's prompt list.

Whumptober Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Your husband used to say in his drunken rambles late at night, ‘When you live, live in clover, ‘cause when you’re dead, you’re dead all over.’ But much like your late husband was, the clover is traditionally, an opportunistic weed. Sure, the clover is seen as a good luck charm in many cultures across the globe. But in your experience, it was only ever a weed that grew and took hold of everything in its path. Destroying an array of vast beauty you never thought you’d get back. 

Until the weed died…and your garden began to grow once again. But what do weeds typically do? They grow back. Even in death, your husband had managed to screw you once more. He’d left you in hundreds of thousands of dollars of debt to some guy he knew from ‘work’. Some guy who thought he could collect the debt even after your weasel of a husband had died a not-so-unfortunate death. 

Some guy who had already made it abundantly clear that if you didn’t pay off the debt owing…You and your son would eventually be reunited with your husband. Permanently. 

That was six months ago, and you still hadn’t paid up. 

“Mr. Jake!” It was the panic in the little boy’s voice that got Jake’s attention first. “Mr Jake, Mr Jake! Are you home?” Next, it was the way the knocking didn’t falter. It was an unrelenting assault of young knuckles against the wooden surfaces of Jake Seresin’s front door. “Mr. Jake! I need help!” 

Jake Seresin had been your neighbour for around four months. In that time you’d grown as close as neighbours could. He’d often mow your lawn in the afternoon Miramar sun. You’d cook enough food for three so that when Jake inevitably stayed for dinner, there was enough to go around and then some. 

There was something so casual about your friendship with the aviator who seemed to have no intention of ever settling down. Jake was clear from the get-go, that he wasn't interested in being a stepdad. He wasn't interested in the possibility of a committed relationship. They were something he deemed worthy to be thrown in the too-hard basket. But what Jake had also been honest about, was the very fact he found you incredibly irresistible. He made it known from the very first kiss you both shared: 

“I’m not the relationship type, Darlin, so don’t get too attached.” 

But someone had grown attached. Your son, Dylan. 

“Mr. Jake!!” The pounding was relentless as Jake padded down the hall toward his front door. The man had been enjoying a beer or two in the warmth of a steaming shower. The last thing he wanted to be doing on his day off was dealing with a pest the size of a seven-year-old who wanted to play catch down the side. “Mr. Jake! Help!” 

“Kid, I swear to god you’re about to lose that fist if you don’t knock it off,” Jake answered the door with a huff and a scowl across his usually shit-eating face. “What? What do you want? I'm busy.” Sure, Jake could have been nicer, but as he held the towel around his waist and dripped onto his freshly cleaned hardwood flooring, he realised he didn’t actually give a shit. But what came out of your son’s mouth next had Jake’s heart racing with adrenaline he only ever felt when he was in the cockpit. 

“My mum’s in trouble Mr. Jake,” Dylan explained as he rubbed his raw knuckles from bagging on his neighbour’s door for so long. “There’s some guys in our house that are trying–trying to hurt her and I need help!” Dylan explained as he began to sob. His emotions got the better of him after the adrenaline of running over without hesitation had started to diminish in his seven-year-old nervous system. 

Tears welled in Dylan’s lower lash lines as Jake leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his dripping and exposed chest, with a frown prominent across his face. 

“Are you sure it’s not just one of your mum’s boyfriends, kid?” Jake sighed as he tried to process what your son was telling him. Dylan was a good kid. Jake didn’t mind the boy.. For a seven-year-old, he was able to hold a decent conversation most of the time. 

It didn’t take Jake long at all to figure out that Dylan was one of those kids who had no choice but to grow up fast. Jake didn’t know everything, but you had told him about your late husband. How he wasn’t the best guy in town. One night while you shared a bottle of wine, or three, with Jake, you’d confided in him about the fact you often thought you were a horrible person for not missing him. Clayton was, at the end of the day, Dylan’s father. 

“My mum doesn’t have boyfriends Mr Jake. You’re her boy-friend.” Dylan explained innocently enough. Jake was sure his brain was computing the conversation properly. “Mum’s in trouble, please! You have to help her!” Dylan begged as his tears stained his young cheeks. He’d seen a lot in his seven years. He even knew how to roll a cigarette. But he didn’t want to know half the things that plagued his young, impressionable mind. 

In the time Jake had known you, he’d rarely ever seen you have friends besides him around the house. He’d seen a few big, burley men come and go. But they never stayed long enough to warrant concern. Jake wasn’t the jealous type either. He was more than happy to fill his roster with someone else if you were already busy with another guy. 

But maybe those men weren’t there for the reason Jake had originally thought.

“Okay,” Jake sighed reluctantly. “Get in here before someone sees you.” Jake manhandled Dylan as he dragged him into his home via the kid’s collar. “I want you to hide in my bedroom with the door closed,” Jake instructed the kid who was just trying to keep up with Jake as they walked down the hall. “You don’t answer the front door to anyone, you don’t leave this room unless me–” Jake pointed to himself “–or your mother comes to get you, got it?” 

“What if I need to pee?” Dylan asked as he sat on the edge of Jake’s bed, watching as he threw on an old T-shirt that had been lying on the floor. The same one he had taken off before his shower. 

“Piss your pants for all I care, just don’t leave this room,” Jake growled back at the kid who had somewhat grown on him. But Jake couldn’t let him know that, could he? “Use the bathroom genius, just stay in the damn house.” There was a silence that followed as Jake looked around for a pair of shorts or jeans or something he could wear that wasn’t a white bath towel. His mind was racing a million miles an hour trying to think of a logical explanation as to why your son was banging on his door saying you were in trouble. 

“What are there naked ladies on in this magazine?” Jake froze as he looked over his shoulder to see your son looking through an old magazine Jake had left out. He normally wasn’t the magazine type of guy. But when the urge hits…

“Did your mother ever tell you not to look through other people’s belongings?” Jake snatched the magazine out of your son’s hand as he zipped his jeans up. 

“Yeah, but my dad taught me that if people are stupid enough to leave their stuff lying around, then it’s fair game,” Dylan replied almost too quickly for Jake’s liking. Like he was prepared with that one before he even asked his initial question. 

“Your dad sounds like he was a real great guy.” If Jake had rolled his eyes any harder, he probably would have fallen over from the force. 

“Not really,” Dylan sighed. His entire demeanour changed in the blink of an eye. “I think he’s the reason why my mums in trouble now.” Jake had to take a second to take in the sadness that plastered itself across Dylan’s face. He was scared, that much was for sure. But scared of what exactly? 

“Right,” Jake huffed as he tussled Dylan’s hair. “Don’t move, got it?” 

“I won’t Mr Jake,” Dylan replied as he nodded in response, still sitting on the corner of Jake’s unmade bed. “Thanks for helping my mum, she says you’re a good friend and I didn’t have anywhere else to go.” 

“Your mum said that about me?” Jake asked as he raised an eyebrow. His hands fell to his hips as he watched your son nod. His tear-stained cheeks caused Jake to frown more than he’d care to admit. This kid had somehow managed to weasel his way into Jake’s life in a way Jake never expected. He wasn’t the greatest role model, that was clear. But something told Jake that Dylan hadn’t been exposed to the best either. 

“Yeah, she likes you, I can tell,” Dylan snitched on you like he was getting paid. “Mum doesn’t have a lot of friends.” 

“Any reason why?” Jake didn’t want to pry, but he 

“She says the more people she lets in, the more people can get hurt.” 

“What’s your mum got herself caught up in, kid?” Jake sighed as he sat down beside Dylan on his bed. The mattress dipped a little more with Jake’s added body weight.  Dylan immediately leaned against Jake for support as he tried to find the willpower not to cry.

His dad had always told him emotions were for women. 

“I dunno,” Dylan sniffled as he dried his tears. “I just know that the men who came over aren’t nice and they want her money.” 

“She owes someone money?” 

“I think Dad did, but he’s dead,” Jake sometimes wished his dad had died a lot sooner than he did. There was a common ground there. Jake was also brought up on the ideology that emotions were his greatest weakness. He had watched his mother suffer for years. It was one of the reasons why he swore he’d never marry, never settle down. Jake didn’t want to be like his father. Listening to Dylan talk about his dad so flippantly made Jake wonder if Dylan felt the same way. “So I don’t know why they still want it.” 

“Money doesn’t lose value like that, unfortunately,” Jake sighed as he connected the dots. He stood once again and tousled Dylan’s hair in the process. “Go through my shit and you’ll have bigger problems to deal with, understand?” Jake growled as he headed to the front door. Looking back over his shoulder to see Dylan settling further into Jake’s bed. 

“I heard you the first time,” Dylan replied. Jake’s jaw nearly hit the hardwood flooring of his own house. Who did this kid think he was? “Thank you, Mr Jake.” Jake’s near rage dissipated within his chest when he heard the change-up of attitude almost immediately. 

“Yeah yeah,” Jake sighed. He knew deep down that this really couldn’t be good. But there was still a large part of him that begged to ask the question, was this his problem? “The things I get myself into.” He mumbled to himself as he left the comfort of his humble abode on his one day off. 

**************************************

“Wheres our fucking money Y/n?” Liam asked as he sat in the lounge chair across from the dining table chair you’d been tied to. “We’ve been more than patient with you given the circumstances,” None of this was realistically your fault. It was your late husband’s debt these guys were after. 

“I’ve told you!” You tried to explain again for the hundredth time. “I’ve been saving, I’ve only got a couple thousand saved but it’s in the tin can above the fridge, take it all.” 

Your husband had been a compulsive gambler. He bet your house on a game of blackjack one weekend and lost it all. He’d sold your belongings out from under you, used money for your son’s school fees and borrowed way more money than he could ever afford to pay back in his lifetime. 

So he killed himself and left that debt to you. Weed. But when in clover, right? 

“We’re past forgiving overdue debt,” Liam sighed. He was over hearing the same thing time and time again. “You owe us money, end of story.” 

“Please, you know I had nothing to do with my husband’s affairs,” You tried to plead with the man who’d been on you for the last few months like a bad rash. “I can give you what I have, but I need more time!” 

“Time is money, Miss. Y/l/n and I am a very busy man,” Liam replied with a sinister smirk smeared across his rugged face. “If you can’t pay up, you’ll just have to work off your debt.” 

“We did just lose that one girl boss,” One of Liam’s henchmen chuckled as he moved your hair to one side over your shoulder. “She might be the perfect replacement?” Your skin crawled as the man’s fingertips trailed across your collarbone. 

You strained against your restraints, trying every which way you could to get away from his touch and out of the chair you’d been tied to. But it was to no avail, you were tied down and tied down hard. The rope burned against your wrists, ankles and waist as you wriggled around. They’d surely leave marks for days, but that was the least of your problems right now. 

“Might make us more money too,” Liam eyed you off as he leaned forward on his knees. “Bet it’s been a while since this widow got a good workout in, might have to take her for a test myself.” 

“I have a son, please, I don’t know why my husband did what he did but his actions shouldn’t be mine to pay the price for!” You were sobbing. Tears streamed down your cheeks taking your not-so-waterproof mascara with them. “I’m begging you–” 

“Good thing I like when they beg,” Liam snickered as he stood with a groan. “Let’s see what kinda merchandise we’re working with here,” The next few moments were tortuous. Far too many hands were all over your vulnerable body. “Let’s get a good look at you.” Tearing at articles of clothing to reveal more exposed skin as you screamed and pleaded with them to stop. Your breasts were out on full display by the time there was a knock at the door followed by an all too familiar voice. 

“Y/n, open up yeah?” Jake knocked his knuckles against your front door as he whipped the bottoms of his shoes on the doormat. “Also, you might have to have the birds and the bees talk a lot earlier than expected, just a hunch.” Jake knew there was probably something going on inside, your son had been really spooked. But in true Jake Seresin style, he was gonna be a pain where he could be. He never made anything easy on anyone. 

“Who the fucks that?” Liam asked as he grabbed your face. His fingertips squeezed against your cheeks as he looked you dead in the eye and held a gun to your temple. Things were escalating to new highs far too quickly. This was bad. Very bad. 

“That’s just my neighbour,” You mumbled with fear laced in your words. “ He–” 

“Tell him, to go the fuck home before I put a bullet in your thigh and fuck your face to see if you can really work off your pathetic excuse for a husband’s debt you weak fucking, bitch.” The way Liam spoke to you. The way he threatened you. The way his henchman all laughed as your visible tears and panic made you believe him without a shadow of a doubt. He was going to make you work off your husband’s debt against your will. 

“Jake, not now, I have company!” You tried to conceal the worry in your tone, but Jake caught onto it right away. He bend down to reach for the spare hidden key under the fake ass rock he had told you time and time again to hide better. 

“Well, it’s a good thing I don’t respect boundaries all that often, isn’t it?” Jake grumbled to himself as he unlocked the front door and made his way into your home. The first thing Jake noticed as he walked in was how furniture had been knocked over every which way. He saw the smashed photo frame of you and your son.

The light switch for hanging light above the entrance had been bashed in. Your TV had been knocked over. And all of a sudden, Jake took inventory of the way his heart rate accelerated to new highs never felt as he saw you tied to a dining table chair in the middle of your living room. His heart rate had never even been this rapid when he was approaching ten G-forces. 

But the way your top had been ripped to shreds had him seeing red. The way you sat there almost completely exposed to the three men all standing around your living room like they were about to play pass the parcel made his blood boil. Jake had never seen you look so scared. So defenceless. So broken before. 

Damn, Dylan had been right on the money about there being bad guys in your home, hadn’t he?

“What’s going on here?” Jake asked as he slowly walked into plain sight. He had no intention of hiding. He wanted you to know he was there to help, come hell or high water. 

“None of your concern,” Liam growled as he made sure to unclip the safety on his gun, still pointing it down towards your thigh. “Now, bet it before you become collateral damage buddy.” 

“Jake,” You tried to warn him. “It’s alright, these are just some of my husband’s friends.” The fake smile you gave him broke Jake’s heart. He wasn’t sure what mess you’d managed to get yourself into. Or better yet, what mess your husband had left you behind to clean up. But what Jake knew for sure was that he wasn’t leaving without you. 

“Gentleman, I’m sure we can come to some sort of agreement here?” Jake asked as he walked further into your living room. Soon enough he had a gun facing towards him. A direct aim to his chest. That wasn’t enough to deter him, not when your son was currently hiding out in his bedroom. Not when you were clearly three seconds away from becoming a living sex toy. 

“We had a deal, she didn’t pay up, a debt is a debt,” Liam explained as simply as he could. “Now get the fuck out before you start taking your final breaths through your chest.” Two more guns were now being held up in Jake’s direction. He could hear his heart in his ears as he held his hands in the air up beside his head. 

“Wow, wow wow, I don’t want the smoke,” He teased. “What’s the debt? I’ll write a check?” It was the first thing Jake could think of that might help de-escalate an incredibly serious situation he truly wasn’t equipped to handle. “A couple thousand should do it, yeah?” 

The choir of laughter that erupted around you was enough to have your tears streaming down your cheeks faster than they ever had been. You were screwed. Jake was a deadman walking and your son was about to become an orphan. 

“Try two hundred and fifty thousand dollars,” Liam gave Jake the number he was after. The look Jake gave you told you all you needed to know. He didn’t have that kind of money. Which was quite ironic when you think about it because neither did you. “You have that in cash?” Liam pressed as he stepped closer to where Jake stood. “Because if not, I suggest you turn tail and get the fuck out of my goddamn sight.” 

“She should sell for at least three–” One of the henchmen you didn’t even know, added. “We’ll make a profit after that piece of shit failed to repay the money we so generously loaned him.” 

Jake’s mind was racing a million miles an hour. He couldn’t let these guys do this. He couldn’t let them take you. No one deserved this, but you especially didn’t. You’d been through so much already. You needed someone in your corner now more than ever. Jake wasn’t the relationship type, but he had a decent moral compass. 

“What if I go with you and you give Y/n here more time to come up with the money?” Jake offered a counteroffer. 

“Jake!” You pleaded before a pistol was making contact with your temple. The sheer force was enough to blind you for a few seconds as your neck was barely able to support your head. 

“HEY!” Jale growled as he took strides towards you, only to be stopped by the two henchmen. One on each arm. “Please, don’t hurt her.” For a moment Jake had dropped his facade. He wasn’t the relationship kinda guy, but you sometimes made that the hardest rule to follow. “She’s–” Jake didn’t know how to explain what you meant to him. You; ‘d never spoken about what the two of you really were. 

“She’s what? Loverboy?” Lima laughed in Jake’s face as he stood right before the detained aviator. “A gambler’s wife? A soon-to-be whore? A cum dumpster?” There was a second of silence that passed while Jake tried to figure out what he was about to say next. “Come on? What is she?” 

“She’s everything I’ve ever wanted and more,” Jake confessed. At first, you thought it was the possible concussion making you hear things. But when he followed up? You knew it was really Jake speaking as blood dripped down the side of your face. “She’s the first person I think about in the morning and the last at night, so please, don’t hurt her,” Jake pleaded as he struggled in the confines of the henchman’s grip. 

“Jake–” You groaned. 

“Take me instead, let her go and she’ll get the money you want.” Jake never took his eyes off you as he spoke. “I’ll stay with you until she does, pretty sure I’d be worth a couple hundred thousand for you guys anyway?” There he was again, back to being the Jake you knew him to be. “What’s a bisexual naval aviator go for on the dark web these days?” 

“Shut the fuck up,” Liam spat and he shot Jake straight through his thigh. 

“Ahhh fuck!” 

“Jake!” You screamed as he crumbled to his knees before you. Bleeding a crimson red into the carpet. “No, no this isn't his problem to fix!” You begged as you thrashed against your restraints. 

“You have thirty days, or he’s fish food,” Liam growled as his men dragged Jake across the carpet heading towards your front door. “Thirty days, get me my fucking money!!”

“Don’t worry, Sweetheart,” Jake smiled as he was draped past you, bleeding profusely from his thigh. “I got you,” Jake rushed to get his words out as he was dragged further and further away from where you were still tied to your chair. “Dylans safe, so are you.” 

******************************

[unholybacon355]

Kinktober Day 13 - Hirai Momo x M! Reader

Kinktober Masterlist

Momo is hot as hell, there is no doubt about that. She always catches the eye with her spectacular body. Wherever she goes, always someone is turning her head to take a proper look at her. She’s hot and she knows it and embraces it. How could she not know it when is always receiving compliments?. She’s hot as fuck and you love it too.

There always was the discussion about if her big round ass or her large breast was her most desired body part. You always listened to people talking about that in the hallways or in the bathroom. Of course everybody wants to fuck Momo, she’s the it girl of the campus. And you want it too., but she’s out of your league. 

Yeah, she’s a gymnast and you are part of the football team, but she’s still so out of your league. This can’t be the classical sport romance because she’s very popular and no one pays attention to you. Yes you’re on the football team, but you aren’t really playing. You had been benched almost the entire season till today when the injuries of your teammates allowed you to finally jump to the field. 

You were really fine with that, at least touching the field was good for you. Damn you love this sport, but sadly you aren't that good at it. Otherwise you would be on the titular team. But sometimes people get lucky, maybe something moves in the universe to make a poor bastard like you happy once in a while just to keep things balanced. And you were the lucky one today when in the final minute of the game out of pure adrenaline rush you were able to sack the enemy quarterback on their own end zone, practically winning a tied game.

Immediately everybody was shouting your name and rising you to the sky. You were today's heroe. And that leads to where you are now. At the bedroom of someone that you don’t even know, with your pants around your knees and the girls of your dream half naked kneeling in front of you. 

This was one of the many parties to which you were dragged tonight. Of course everybody wants to have the hero at their party, and your captains were shure you that you attended every party around the campus that night. Till you ended up in this house, very drunk, and in some magic way crossing paths with Momo. She was kinda drunk too and for some reason was also very happy to meet the new college heroe. Maybe because beside her almost no one brings joy to this university in sports. Yes, she wasn't just hot but also a champion.

Then things are blurry in your memory. Maybe you were dragged into a drinking game, and maybe you also ended up doing that stupid “Seven minutes in heaven “ game with Momo, you are seriously too drunk to remember if that really happened. But if it happened probably that was what led to this. 

You were kissing Momo in the hallway on the second floor, and touching her in a very inappropriate way, when you kicked a random door and both entered the room, shutting the door behind you. Things quickly escalated but sadly you didn't have a single condom with you. Why would you have one if you aren't getting laid in the first place? So Momo decided to reward you with something special instead. That's why she was on her knees with her torso naked, and spitting on her tits to make them slippery.

At this very moment in your opinion the discussion about Momo’s tiddies versus her ass is finished. Her boobs were by far the biggest you had ever seen in person. They are like twoo fucking ships on the middle of the sea, moving at a discontinuous and not symmetric passe while Momo is spreading her saliva between them. One coming up when the other is coming down at the rhythm of her breath and hands. You were frankly amazed by the size of her breast. 

Momo bites her lower lips looking at you in a sexy but shy way. “I don’t do this with anyone.” And you knew that was true, there isn’t a single rumor about her sleeping with anyone or hooking up at parties. In fact you weren't sure if a sports strat like her was even attending these kinds of parties, and that made you feel even luckier. “But you seem to be nice.” That and also that both of you are very drunk right now. 

Momo wraps her fingers around your shaft stroking you and spreading her saliva over you too, that is until your dick is wet and shiny. You desperately need her to suck you, to feel her warm mouth around your meat, but instead your reward is another. Momo puts your shaft between her monumental tits and uses her hand to push them together. Her boobs are so big that your tip is barely visible over the crack of her cleavage. God, obviously her tits are better than her ass.  

And then the fun begins. Momo uses her hands to move her massive breasts up and down, sending you immediately to heaven. The feeling is amazing, your shaft is surrounded by the soften skiing ever had been. And her boobs are so soft that seem like you’re fucking cotton candy. You feel on the clouds.

“Does it feel good?” All you can elaborate as an answer is a moan because everything feels so amazing. To be honest you haven't had action in a while, so at this point everything should feel amazing. But you know this is different, you know that her tits are casting some kind of spell over you. Otherwise why is your shaft so hard right now? 

You’re praying for this to not be a dream. You're thanking the universe to allow you to make that play and end this night like this, with the girls of your dream stroking your dick with her tits. And Oh God! what a great job she’s doing. Momo’s hand never stops moving her boobs, maintaining your shaft sealed between them and maximizing your pleasure. All you can do is moan and look at her with a freshly discovered passion. 

Momo isn’t just hot as fuck but also so damn beautifull. Her delicate features  always capture your attention, and now seeing her with her mouth open spitting more saliva over her tits to maintain them lubricated,  feels like an extra reward to you. You don’t even want that blowjob anymore, that feels out of please now. It feels like an abuse of your luck to want something more from her, because this is already so amazing.

 Momo is panting with the effort of moving her tits up and down, and even like that she looks beautiful.  She is like an angel with big boobs, but still like an angel. Even with her tongue out to let her saliva drip over her tits she looks so damn beautiful in your eyes. Well, not for nothing she’s the most desired girl on the campus.

You let her do what she wants with your shaft, and obviously she has a lot of control over her body. After all she’s and gymnastic start, she clearly knows how to move her body and what to do with every single one of her muscles, and that includes her big boobs.The waves that her fat tits create over your dick, stimulating you to a new level of pleasure,  is more than you can mange. 

“I-I-I’m… Clo-Clooooseee.” You warn her but all what Momo does is increase the pace of her movement, and pushes her tits even closer together, sending you over the edge of your climax. Your dick spills thick ropes of semen over her breast, covering her entire chest with your white and sticky fluid. Flooding her big tits with your seed and making it even easier for her to milk you using your semen as lubricant too. You shoot your load over her massive boobs covering that beautifull mole on her left tiddie, and even drop your semen over her hard light tea big nipples.

“What a mess we made.” Momo said panting and giggling once she set free your shaft from the warm and soft embrace of her boobs. “Can you find me something to clean myself?” Add while trying to gather your semen with her hands but all what she is doing is just spreading it more over her chest. 

You are still amazed by what just happened. You can’t think straight like if you were in some kind of trance, and without realizing what you are doing you take off your shirt and you give it to her. After a few minutes her tits are clean and you put your shirt on again, now stained with your own milk. You’re still in a trance, still very drunk and in disbelief. 

You're thinking of asking for her number, maybe if you're lucky enough another kiss. But you also think this is already too much. In the end what would you pursue asking for her number? What more could obtain from her a drunk loser that is wearing a shirt stained with his fresh semen? But you still have to do it. If it isn't tonight when again would you have the chance to meet the most desired girl on the campus? Maybe the hotter and more desired girl in the entire city you correct yourself.

[delphi-shield]

early morning reverie

jill x reader - morning sex - mdni

jill wakes at the first bleat of your alarm. you doze peacefully next to her, undisturbed by the gentle chiming. she's not surprised; she's been a light sleeper since adolescence, a habit only reinforced by her service in the army and chiseled into her bones by countless missions with the BSAA.

she rolls onto your side of the bed, swipes your alarm away, and settles back to admire your features in the darkness. she's unused to your apartment, to the softness of your bed and the way your body warms the space next to her. she'd spent the night with you before, was used to you tossing and turning - but that had been at her apartment.

it hadn't been out of avoidance, but she'd barely spent any time at your place. it just came naturally to offer her home up to you. you've never had shrimp scampi? come over. jill would make it for you. long day at work? poor thing. come over, relax with her; let her make it better. jill had quickly gotten addicted to your presence in her home, your toothbrush next to hers, spare clothes tucked under the pillow of her bed.

but there was something sickeningly cozy about your home. you had to work in the morning, insisted that you didn't want to bother her on a rare day off, but jill had waved your concern away. she'd wanted to see your routines. to see what life could be like if you kept her around. she couldn't escape you in your own home, every corner filled with reminders of your presence. it was obsessive, maybe, to think about pocketing some of your tchotchkes to sprinkle around the countertops of her own apartment, but the thought lingers all the same.

a second alarm chimes in. she swipes it away without a thought. it's totally normal to have a back up alarm. her arm settles at your waist, admiring the peaceful smile on your face as you sleep.

by the time alarm number seven goes off, jill has had enough.

her face stays buried in her pillow. her arm flops over your chest, hand groping on the other side of you for your phone. she's tempted to fling it against the wall, see if that would get you up, but she resists. jill squints against the brightness. she holds your phone an inch from her face, swatting your alarm away.

next alarm: 5min

"what the fuck," she whispers in the dark.

how many alarms could you possibly need? you shift next to her, mattress dipping as you roll onto your side. that peaceful expression seems dastardly now. you're messing with her. got to be. you've probably been awake this whole time.

she whispers your name, your phone still clutched in her hand. nothing. she nudges your shoulder gently, trying to rouse you. if it's not some stupid joke, then you sleep like a dead man.

no movement. jill knows the panic jumpstarting her heart, the hint of adrenaline that sends spikes through her extremities, is uncalled for. you're both safe, tucked away in your bed. but beds don't stop tragedy any more than prayer stops sin.

she tucks a finger under your nose, waits for the soft puff of breath against her skin. just to be sure.

you're alive, all right. just sleeping like some kind of maniac. jill curls around you, knotting your limbs together. if she's going to be kept awake by your barrage of alarms, then she's going to be comfortable.

her noise buries into your hair. it's impossible to escape your scent, but she wants it straight from the source. she's surrounded by you. it's just another reason to come over more often.

you wiggle in her arms, a little more actively than just turning in your sleep. a smile tugs at her lips. so she could wake you up, but the cacophony of alarms did nothing? she gets a weird rush from the feeling.

your hips squirm against hers. the rush she gets from that isn't weird or foreign at all. jill swallows thickly. she reaches up to turn off the eighth alarm in advance. she shifts lower on the bed, peppering your skin with soft kisses.

"why do you have 13 alarms set?" jill noses along the junction of your shoulder and neck. her hair tickles your nose, makes you giggle. the sound is a slow fizz.

"i don't wanna sleep through 'em," you mumble into her hair.

your arm loops over her waist, heavy with sleep. your hand splays wide against her back, rubbing slowly along the muscled planes with a warm touch that melts her against you. jill slips further down your body. she palms the point of your hip, hitching your leg around her. your hips roll into her more powerfully. you scooch closer, pussy pressed tight against her thigh.

"you slept through them anyway."

"i usually wake up by the eighth one."

jill laughs, breath puffing warm against your skin. she keeps your phone close by, just in case she needs to swat away any more alarms. you have to work, she reminds herself. you'll have to leave bed some time soon. by her count, though, you've still got five alarms to go.

it's almost mindless, the way you're grinding against her. half-asleep and still using her body. she doesn't know if she's trained you well, or if you're just like this naturally. she doesn't know which gets her more wet.

"feel good?" jill murmurs.

you whine in the back of your throat, squirm closer to her. her palm glides to your front, long fingers trailing against your skin to palm your pussy. heat radiates off of you. jill knows if you put your hand against her you'll find the same, but it's not your hand she craves.

she draws her thigh back from you. you grip her biceps, nails biting into her skin. she swears she hears you grumble 'no' against her neck.

"gonna show you something," she shushes. her poor, impatient baby. jill hooks an arm under your knee and spreads you wide.

"ow," you grumble. jill strokes your thigh, watches your leg pull back to a more comfortable angle. "what're you doin'?"

“you gotta do some stretches," jill chuckles. "trust me. it's gonna feel good."

her hands pinch the fat of your hips, pressing you down into the mattress. she kisses you again, her tongue sliding into your mouth.

jill positions herself over you, a hand against your knee to keep you spread, coaxing you a little wider. jill knows you too well. knows your nerves, can tell by way your skin warms beneath her hands. it's cute, the way she can still get you worked up. she lines herself up carefully, one leg kneeling. she finds your clit with her hand first, rolling the pad of her thumb against it. you're worked up enough for this, and god knows she is, clit pulsing.

she lowers herself to you, drawing your leg up to her shoulder. the change in angle is just right, lines her clit up with yours perfectly. her fingers stroke your ankle. she takes a moment, watches the lights turn on behind your eyes in the dark of your room. let you adjust, she reminds herself. don't pound you into the mattress the very first time.

“don't hold your breath,” she says. her hips draw lazy figure eights against you. the nervous coil in your chest unspools, melts into a heat that drops in your belly.

it doesn't take long after that. it never does. once she gets you to breathe easy, the relaxation in your bones quickly turns liquid, turns you into this soft, curious little puddle that soaks up sensation and churns out the prettiest noises she's ever heard. you let her guide you first, observing, learning. then you replicate her movements on a smaller scale.

pleasure makes you bolder. her clit back and forth against yours has jill's fingers dimpling your flesh. your hips buck into hers in short, lazy thrusts, back arched and head pressed back into the pillow. jill can see it-- fuck, she can feel it, the slow heat pulsing through you and into her, the fuzzy feeling ending in your fingertips that makes you grip the sheets.

“there you go,” jill breathes. she strokes your cheek with the backs of her fingers, leans down to kiss you deeply.

your mind swirls in a languid tailspin. you're so used to having the pleasure ripped out of you, the earth crumbling beneath your feet, that you don't recognize the slow, searing heat spreading through you for what it is. the pleasure envelopes you; it drains out as slowly as it built, leaves you breathless by the time you even realize you've cum, cunt clenching, clit pulsing against jill's.

jill's hands brace against your ribs. she presses her chest against your, hips changing angles against yours. you roll onto your side together, legs tangled.

"what the fuck," you whisper against her lips, kissing her as she laughs. she's just as breathless as you, you realize. pleasure bubbles up from your core, champagne fizz in your blood.

"like it?" jill shifts your leg over her hip again. you came, but she's still right there, skin hot and tight, nerves shuddering with every brush.

"mhm." you mouth at her neck, your hips angling against hers until she locks you in place.

your alarm blares next to her head. jill swears under her breath, nose scrunching.

"how much time do you have?"

you squint at the screen, blinking like a newborn kitten. "like, ten minutes."

good enough. jill grips your chin, drags you back to her. she kisses you hard, teeth clicking, all her early-morning restraint bowing under the weight of her need.

"you gonna make me cum like this," she bucks her hips against yours, nearly rolling you onto your back, "or am i gonna sit on your face?"

"face," you say, no hesitation. you kiss her once more before rolling onto your back. almost forgot your manners -- "please."

you don't need any extra instruction for this part. you'll skip the perfume on your way out the door. why would you want to dilute the scent of jill?

[revasserium]

Mmmm perhaps 13? A kinda sensitive reader x Opla zoro? Or a tender moment between the two? 👀

send me one + a character and i'll write u a drabble

13. handle with care

zoro; 1,014 words; fluff, strawhat!reader, gn!reader, no "y/n", mentions of blood, established relationship, zoro being zoro, mentions of poison

summary: in which you attempt to treat zoro post battle

a/n: i do love the "sucking out poison with your mouth" trope, i gotta admit

It is almost always in the aftermath of battle, when the dust has settled and the blood’s been shed, that Zoro seems most himself. There’s something in the dull, pulsing ache of fresh wounds, the harsh sting and strain of his muscles, the adrenaline still singing through his veins —

“This is gonna hurt…” you glance up as you press an alcohol-soaked cotton ball to a large slash across his chest and Zoro hisses.

But his eyes are closed and there’s a small, satisfied smile inked across his lips.

“Doesn’t even sting.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes as Zoro’s stomach tenses beneath your touch; you carefully press the cotton ball to his wound again, watching the edges grow heavy and dark with blood.

“You really oughtta be more careful…” you say, voice low as you reach for a fresh cotton ball and dip it in the alcohol once more. Zoro grunts, his eyes half-lidded as they track your movements. You glance up to meet them, only to blush and look away as he gaze catches on yours.

“I’m good at staying alive,” he says, by way of an answer, and you resist the urge to sigh and roll your eyes for the nth time that day.

“If this cut had been a few centimeters to the right —“

“But it wasn’t.”

The softness of his words makes you look up, your fingers pausing as you reach for the gauze siting next to his bent elbow, propped carelessly against the kitchen counter.

“And I’ve got you,” he says, lips twitching as he reaches over slow, pressing the gauze into your palm with smooth, deliberate movements.

You curl your fingers around the gauze and swallow, feeling heat tiptoe up the back of your neck and sink into your cheeks. You busy yourself with smearing a thick balm over the worst parts of the wound and pressing the gauze over it. Zoro lets out a soft hiss, his head tipping back, his fingers curling into fists at his sides.

“Oh — sorry —”

“It’s nothing,” but his voice is rough and scored around the edges.

You frown at the darkness already seeping through the fresh bandages and cock your head.

“No… something’s wrong,” you tug at the bandages, your heart thudding in your throat.

“It’ll fix itself in a few —”

“Stop it,” you snap, your eyes sharp as you glare up at him, pressing a hand to his chest; he freezes at your touch. You stare at each other for a few seconds before he lets out a long breath and relaxes, a grimace edging to the surface.

“It hurts, doesn’t it? More than it should,” you say, more a statement than a question, carefully wiping away the balm and squinting at the edges of the wound, the skin turning an unnatural blueish gray.

“Barely.”

“Zoro, I swear —”

“Fine.” He bites out the word like poison —

Your eyes go wide — poison.

“The guy who clawed you — what did you say he turned into?”

Zoro scoffs, “I dunno — some weird thing that looked like a duck but had fur —”

“Shit —” you toss the sullied gauze aside and wipe haphazardly at the wound before bending down to press your lips to the gash, sucking hard. Zoro makes a noise somewhere between pain and surprise as you spit out a mouthful of dark, already congealing blood into the sink next to him.

“W-what the —”

You look up to find him wide-eyed — bewildered and blushing, his breaths coming in short pants.

“Platypus venom — there’s no cure —” you hastily wipe your mouth before bending down again. Zoro lets out a soft moan that borders on indecent, but there’s no time for you to linger on the sound as you straighten back up to spit out another mouthful of bitter-tasting blood.

“The only way out is — well —” you lean back down to wrap your lips around the wound and suck, pulling back to spit out more blood, “Out.”

“Holy shit —” he groans again as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and frown down at the wound, your mind racing with mental calculations of how long it might take for the venom to spread through a person’s system, and how long it’s been since Zoro had come stumbling back with the rest of your crew, grinning and blood-splattered.

“How long’s it been hurting this bad?” you ask, your eyes flickering between his face and his stomach. He lets out a short puff of breath that might’ve been a chuckle.

“Not that long.”

“Zoro please — I need you to tell me the truth — don’t play macho when your life might be —”

“I’d never lie to you.”

His words are clipped, and your heart skids in your chest at the earnestness in his voice.

“Okay… I believe you. I think —” you reach for a glass of water to rinse out your mouth before turning on the faucet to wash your lips and chin, “I think we got most of it out in time. But let me know if it gets any worse, okay?”

Zoro nods, his eyes falling shut again as he relaxes against the counter. You sigh, reaching up to cup his cheek, running a thumb across a tiny cut on his left cheek.

“You really oughtta be more careful…”

Zoro laughs, the sound breathy and a bit broken but warm all the same.

And when he opens his eyes to look at you, you find nothing but affection reflected there, even though his lips are a bit paler than you’re used to, his gaze ever so slightly unfocused.

“Didn’t I just tell you —”

You roll your eyes, “Yeah, yeah, you’re good at staying alive.”

“No,” he reaches up to press his hand over yours, leaning his cheek into the palm of your hand, closing his eyes as he turns his head to kiss the pad of your thumb —

“I’ve got you.”

[innorogers]

Insomnia

Steve Rogers x OFC (You)

Summary: You couldn't sleep, and Steve neither. So you want to help him with a bedtime story. And he wants you forever.

Note: This is the first chapter of a series, but can be read as independent story. Links at the end of this chapter :)

To say you couldn't sleep is an understatement. You quite literally couldn't even close your eyes for the past few nights. 

It's not something you can control; your brain just works like this: challenges at work are the adrenaline that rushes to your mind, and it just won't calm down. 

So, a 13-hour shift wasn't enough to tire you out; insomnia hit so hard that you decided to head down to the training room to try to drain all your energy.

As you made your way down the stairs, you could hear the distant thudding of fists against a punching bag. 

Upon pushing the door slowly open, you weren't surprised to be met with Steve...without punching gloves.

God, you felt for those knuckles. How can this man be so careless with himself? Not that you have any say in that, of course.

You nodded as he turned around, surprised to see anyone at this hour.

"Cap." you said respectfully, with a tiny voice, looking at the floor as if there's anything wonderful there.

Steve walked over, sweat glistening across his forehead and cheeks, his shirt clinging to his now drenched chest.

"Oh, hi..." He smiled upon seeing you, grabbing a towel from the bench and wiping the sweat from his face. "It's late, what are you doing here?"

"Um..." You didn't think he would talk with this familiarity, but you smiled back. "I couldn't sleep, um...so I just thought I'd try to train myself."

"Ah...insomnia, right?" Steve chuckled slightly, grabbing a bottle of water and taking a few swigs. "I used to suffer with it quite badly too. I used to go to bed and just...stare at the ceiling all night."

"Oh my god." Your reaction was real. "That sounds...terrible."

Steve nodded and slumped down on the bench, leaning back as he took another sip of water. "It is...the only way I got around it was to exhaust myself before bed, but I'm sure you don't need me telling you that."

That statement struck you a little bit. You couldn't help but feel so bad for him. "Cap...that sounds draining. Have you been like that, since...always?"

Steve nodded once again, his hand running through his hair and pushing it back. "Unfortunately, been like it as long as I can remember. I only recently started trying to control it - the army didn't exactly care much about my sleeping patterns..."

"What?" Now you were horrified. "That's so awful. I'm so sorry."

"Hey, don't worry about it. It's alright," Steve reassured with a small smile, his eyes locking with yours for a moment. "I'm used to it. Plus, the army needed me to be the best I could, even if that meant I had to run on 0 hours of sleep."

"Wait, what? Steve, I meant, Cap...that's, that's not right!"

Steve chuckled softly and looked down at his feet for a moment. "Yeah...yeah, I guess it isn't." He was quiet for a moment before looking back up at you with a small smile. "I appreciate the concern, though."

You felt your cheeks were starting to burn, so you looked down again. "Have you tried any pills?" you asked as you watched yourself reflected in the mirror. Oh, you looked so stupid with your gym gear. What were you even doing with a towel and a bottle of water?

Steve nodded, scratching his temple slightly with his thumb. "I've tried just about everything: pills, sleep therapy, meditation, music, literally everything you could think of to help me sleep. I can maybe get 3 hours of sleep max, but that's if I'm absolutely exhausted."

You looked at him. You couldn't believe it. This man, you saw him in and out every day from this campus. He went out so energized, and came back full of scars and wounds, and he couldn't even get some quality rest.

You couldn't help but approach him, your voice as soft as you ever knew it: "Is there anything I can do to help?"

He paused for a moment, looking at you with a quizzical look for a few seconds before his lips quickened up into a small smile. "I mean...there is one thing I could think of..."

"What?"

"Sit next to me." Steve patted a space on the bench beside him, a small smirk on his face and a twinkle in his eye. "Keep me company."

"Sure." 

You didn't even doubt it, and you sat next to him, thinking you were willing to talk for 60 hours in a row if that's what it took to get this man to sleep. 

"Wanna talk about it?"

Steve leaned back against the bench, resting his hands on the metal beside him as he tilted his head slightly to look at you. "There's not much to talk about. My mind just...won't switch off."

"Hmm...maybe, a bedtime story?"

Steve laughed incredulously at the idea, the noise coming from his chest filling the silent room. He found it extremely amazing that he hadn't heard his own laughter like that in a long time.

"A bedtime story? Don't you think I'm a little old for that? I think last time I heard one was… 96 years ago?"

"Well..." God, his laugh was just...magical. You smiled back as your heart melted. "You never know, right?"

Steve chuckled softly once more, his head tilting back as he looked up at the ceiling, a smirk on his face. "You know what...sure. I'll take a bedtime story."

"Alright..." You started laughing too, your frenzied brain starting to do its thing: spinning really fast. 

"Here I go..."

Steve shifted so he was facing you more, leaning forwards with one elbow on his knee. His face was expectant albeit a little amused, and he wondered what kind of a bedtime story you were going to tell.

"Once upon a time, there was a super soldier..."

Steve raised an eyebrow, a small chuckle escaping his lips at the start of the story. "Alright...a super soldier...continue."

"...Who couldn't sleep, so he ran every night up to the hill and asked a fairy living there: 'Hey, little princess, why can't I sleep?' And the fairy replied: 'Oh, honey, I'm so sorry. Is it because the stars are too shiny?' And the soldier looked up at the sky full of stars and shrugged his shoulders: 'Probably...?'"

Steve’s lips formed a soft curve at the beginning of the story, his smile growing with each sentence. 

"How do you know this story?"

You winked at him. "I'll tell you that at the end. “

“So...the fairy thinks about it for a second and says: Well, maybe I can help you. And she goes up, up, up in the sky and starts to collect all the stars one by one, but there are so many of them! And she's so anxious because she wants the super soldier to get some sleep before the army calls...you know, those dumbasses..."

Steve's head tilted back once again as he laughed out loud, shaking his head at the ludicrous but somehow lovely story that was being told, and for some unknown reason, it was making him feel slightly relaxed. 

"That's a lot of stars, huh?"

"Yup..." you heard your voice, and you noticed your joy in making him happy or bringing a little peace to his mind. 

You continued, "So the fairy gets a brilliant idea: 'I'll call every kid on the planet and ask them to wish upon a shiny star, so the stars will fall, and every kid is happy with their wishes granted, and the sky is darkened, and the super soldier gets some sleep.'"

"Every kid? How would they all know to wish upon a star?"

"Because..." You looked at him as if saying, 'duh dude...'

"That's what kids do, didn't you wish upon a star? Ever?"

"Well…I'm not sure I ever did...I…really don’t remember..." He sighed nostalgically.

You looked at him. You wanted to say, "Me neither," but instead, you just responded in a comforting voice, "Well...If you don't sleep tomorrow either, I promise you, I'll go and fetch a star for you."

Steve smiled back at you, your words sending a strange yet warm feeling through his heart. 

"You'd go as far as stealing a star for me?"

And your damn brain worked so fast you didn't even think about what you were saying.

"I'll get every star in the universe for you if you'd ask."

Steve's breath hitched in his throat, there was a strange feeling through his stomach and slightly increasing his heart rate. 

He was quiet for a moment, just looking at you before he spoke again, his own words surprising him. 

"Do you promise...you'd get them all?"

Your heartbeat just stopped at that glance of his, but you nodded. 

"Yes, I do."

Steve took another moment to compose himself, a wonderstruck hitted him as he looked you in the eyes. He was searching your face for any hint of sarcasm or lies, but all he could see was what looked like true honesty. 

"You make a powerful promise...you sure you can keep it?"

You laughed. "What, you don't believe me?"

At the sound of your laugh, Steve's breath hitched in his throat, the noise stirring something deep within him which he attempted to push down. But it was so strong.

"It's not that...I just don't want you to promise something you can't keep."

"I'll keep it." He probably didn't know it, but you were actually vowing, "Every word of it." You replied in a soft voice.

There it was again, that tickle through Steve's stomach. Butterflies everywhere. They came from the air that he breathed, through his chest, to his entire body. 

He smiled at you, a genuine smile that reached his eyes, and for the first time in a very long time, Steve actually believed someone when they promised him something. 

"I'm holding you to that, you know."

You got lost in his eyes. God, there’s an entire ocean in his eyes. You held your tongue before you said that, so you cleared your throat. "I haven't finished my story."

Steve shifted once again to face you, a smile still present on his face. "Continue...tell me the rest of the story."

"So the fairy gets all the stars of the sky to fulfill the kids' wishes, and the sky finally darkens. She goes back to the soldier, but before arriving, she went to heaven and borrowed some feathers from the wings of the most beautiful angel. 'It's for a kid that can't sleep,' she explains to the angel, and with the feathers and her fairy magic, she makes the most comfortable pillow in the world. And only then, she goes back to the soldier and gives him the pillow: 'There, you will have a good sleep, honey.' And so, the soldier finally gets some rest. The end."

Steve listened to the rest of the story intently, that strange feeling in his stomach returning as waves of a tide.

Damn butterflies. Now they even left a trace of golden glitter shiny things.

He wants those butterflies to stop, but he fails, his eyes locking with yours. "You are good...you are a truly excellent storyteller, you know that?"

"I know, right?" You laughed, and also lowered your voice. "But I'll tell you a little secret."

He chuckled as he leaned back against the bench, arms crossed across his chest. As he was trying to hide something, to push back on something. To take distance. 

"A secret? I like the sound of that."

"You're my only and first audience."

Steve cocked an eyebrow, his smirk returning and his arms uncrossing. "You mean this is the first time you've even told someone that story?"

"Or any story."

Steve's eyes widened at your words, the smirk on his face growing even more. 

"You've never told a story before...like, ever?"

"Ever."

Steve chuckled softly at your response, shaking his head slightly. "You mean to tell me that ever since you were a kid, you've never told another person a story? Not even when you were little?"

You were going to say something, but kept quiet and smiled.

Steve was quiet for a moment before looking at you. 

"Most people tell everyone stories...they don't save up a story for years and years and years to tell just one person...just one?"

You blinked at him. "It's only for super soldiers who can't sleep at night, and you are the first one I've met. But...if you happen to know any other super soldier who is also a superhero and also happens to be...you know, Captain America, the greatest avenger of all times...tell him I have a great bedtime story to share with him in case he can't sleep and is training in the tower at this time of the night...otherwise...then yes, you are the only one."

Steve couldn't help but laugh at your response, the sound filling the room once again and that pang through his stomach returning. He ran his fingers through his hair and shook his head as he looked at you, a smirk on his face. 

"I'll let you know if I see any super soldiers around."

"Tell him that's a hell of a bedtime story."

Steve chuckled again, his smirk growing wider as he gave you a nod. "You think he'll like it?"

"I don't know, what do you think?" you shrugged your shoulders.

Steve paused, his eyes locking with yours and that feeling in his stomach returning once again. 

He slowly licked across his lips and was quiet for a moment before answering. 

"I think he'll like the story...I think he'll like it a lot..."

You paused for a long moment before you moved your sight out of the window. 

"Well, that would make me very happy, you know?"

Steve smiled back at you, that warm feeling in his stomach slowly spreading through his entire body. There was something about you that he just couldn't quite put his finger on - you made him feel strangely relaxed yet on edge all at once, and he couldn't quite explain it.

"Why?"

"Because..." Your response was honest and sincere. "I don't know, I guess...I guess I just wish all the good things for him."

Steve was silent, his eyes not able to move from your face as he listened intently. It was at this moment that strange pang in his chest became so prominent that it almost knocked the breath out of him. 

Your words were simple, yet they made his heart flutter. He didn't understand why, but he suddenly felt something he hadn't felt in years, a feeling so strong and overpowering yet so gentle.

Steve smiled, his voice coming out as nothing more than a whisper. 

"You...you really care about him...huh?"

You stayed quiet. This was weird, he was asking, yet you felt that those questions came from some kind of reflexive thought, that it was your inner voice asking you. 

So you answered, "I do. A lot."

Steve didn't say anything for a moment, the way you answered so quickly and so honestly made all hesitations and doubts disappear. He is not fighting anymore against it. He found himself looking at you intently, almost as if he were trying to read you. 

His heart rate slowly rose, and those butterflies flew and flew in circles all around within him.. 

He suddenly remembers that he didn't even know your name. You’re such a dumbass, Rogers. Captain America is just an excuse, this is the REAL reason you don’t get dates over 100 years. He tells himself. Could you be more stupid?

"I don’t even know your name." He says in an apologetic tone.

"I'm..." You thought about it and decided to go with your real name, not the one you were known for. 

Steve repeated your name silently to himself, letting it roll off his tongue and hearing the way it sounded as it left his lips. 

He paused for a moment, his face softened with a slight smile as he was saying a breathtaking thought.

"Beautiful name..."

"Thanks." And you blinked at him. "And you are...?"

A subtle laugh flickered on his face at your joke before replying, "Well...you probably know my name already, but...I'm Steve, Steve Rogers."

Your heartbeat skipped a dozen paces, but you played it cool. "I like your name too."

Steve's eyes widened at your words. He hesitated and tilted his head slightly, letting his hair fall into his eyes as he spoke gently. "You're not going to call me 'Cap' or 'Captain America'?"

"Do...do you prefer it?"

A flicker of amusement crossed Steve’s face: "No...I'd prefer it if you just called me Steve...or Stevie."

"Does...anyone dare to call you Stevie?"

Steve chuckled, "No...no one dares, no...but I think I'd be willing to let you get away with it..."

"Alright then, only because you've asked."

Steve's smile widened, a small laugh escaping his throat in response to your comment. He found himself taken aback by the unexpected emotions stirring within him. Every passing moment made him more drawn towards you, captivated by your presence. 

He couldn't comprehend why he was suddenly feeling so at ease, as if he had known you for a lifetime instead of minutes.

It was like homecoming. Instead of greeting for the first time.

Steve sat up straight again, his eyes not leaving your face. He took another moment, gathering himself and taking a breath before speaking, his voice went as gentle and as low as ever. 

"Can I tell you something?"

His gentle voice gave you goosebumps. 

"Is it a secret?"

Steve chuckled nervously, his hands suddenly becoming sweaty and palms slightly clammy, his heart starting to pound against his chest. He shifted slightly so that he was even closer to you, his eyes never leaving yours. 

"Hmm, yeah, I guess you could call it a secret..."

"Will I ever be tortured by enemies trying to know this secret?"

Steve laughed, shaking his head and leaning back once again, but still staying close to you. 

"No...no, you won't get tortured, I promise...it's just, something I just want to share with you and only you..."

"Oh, in that case...I better promise I won't tell...You've made me promise a lot of things tonight, Steve."

Steve smiled but noticed that his hands were becoming even more sweaty as he thought, and that his heart was racing like a teenager. 

"Can I...can I lean a bit closer to you for a second?"

Your body literally was screaming to get closer to him, your brain was sending some kind of alert sign, and your heart was about to jump off your chest. So you were practically a mess. You could only do as you were commanded.

“Sure.”

Steve shuffled even closer to you, his leg slightly touching yours, the feeling of just sitting so close to you creating a small burst of electricity through his body. He suddenly realized that he could feel your body heat and how much he was desperate to get even closer, to feel that warmth directly against him.

He took another deep breath before speaking, his voice still as low and as gentle as a whisper, but the butterflies within him were entering in a frenetic dance.

"I'm gonna lean even closer than this, alright?"

No, it is not alright because your heart was going to burst, but could you ever say no to him? 

"Alright." You nodded, unable to move your eyes from his.

Steve inhaled deeply at your response, his body almost aching to be even closer. He leaned in, his leg now firmly pushed against yours, his own body heat mixing with yours.

He was suddenly nervous, the words he wanted to say on the tip of his tongue. He took another deep breath, swallowing and licking across his lips before speaking once again in that same, low, gentle voice. 

"Can I come even closer?"

You held your breath, barely nodded. Just move, MOVE!

Steve didn't need you to say anymore. His body was now fully pressed against yours, his breath catching as he took in your scent. God, you smelled like fresh grass after rain. It was driving him wild.

His head was next to yours, his cheek mere millimeters from your skin, like willow leaves resting on the water, creating ripples through your heart.

"Closer?"

Your mind was blurred. "Please."

That one word was all it took. Steve realized how much he wanted you. He shifted, lifting his leg onto the bench so he was almost sitting next to you, his chest and hips now pushed against you. 

He could feel the heat from your body through his own and he got it, what was that wonderstruck homecoming sensation he had: he never wanted to be without it.

"Is this close enough?" he murmured, his voice nothing but a whisper.

You sighed, your heart pounding in your chest. With a determined look, you put your hands on his face, tracing gentle lines with your fingers.

You looked at him, your gaze holding his, as if you could see forever into his soul.

"No. If you don't mind. I'd like to be closer."

Steve's breath caught, his body burning with desire. He shifted closer, pressing against you, his pulse quickening. You felt his heat, his warmth, his desperate need, and you surrendered to it.

His breaths became shallower now, that strange feeling almost overwhelming within him. 

"How about now?"

"Well...you think...you think that the other...the other superhero that suffers from insomnia could do better?" You slowly put your arms around his neck, and pulled him to yourself. 

"Something...like this?"

Steve gasped, feeling a strong wave of electricity shoot straight to his core as he felt your arms around his neck, your body pressed against his all at once, his arms holding onto your waist, keeping you pulled close to him. His eyes flicked down to your lips as you spoke as he answered. 

"Definitely."

And he suddenly realized how good it felt, how right it felt, how much he wanted to taste you, how badly he could feel that strange, overwhelming feeling in his heart begging him to just give in.

He moved just a little more. And it felt as if he were hanging on the edge of a cliff, his breath caught in his throat as he spoke, his voice a shaky whisper.

"Can I..."

And you moved your lips up, right into his.

And all the butterflies just...flew up, and a thousand golden glitter traces exploded everywhere like magic dust rolled in the wind.

Steve felt a sudden fire ignite within him as his body ached for you, every inch desperate to feel your touch. 

He let out a small moan as he tasted you, the ache growing stronger with each passing second. 

His hands roamed sliding down your back and up to your hair, tangling his fingers in the strands as the kiss deepened. Steve wanted more, he needed more...he just couldn't get enough.

But you broke the kiss, you needed air.

So he had to, too. His breaths coming out sharp and ragged, his heart hammering so hard and fast he could practically feel it in his head. He took a moment to compose himself, his hands holding you still against him, his forehead resting against yours as he tried to control his breathing.

“I…I can’t believe I just did that…” he spoke after a while, his voice coming out as a whisper.

OMG. 

You opened your eyes and blurted out: "But...but...did...but did you like it?" 

RIGHT? Please tell me you liked it or you'll have to present your resignation to Stark tomorrow.

“Liked it?”

Steve’s hand suddenly comes up to gently push a strand of hair back behind your ear.

“I loved it.”

You gazed at him, and of course, your impulse worked so much faster than your sense: "So can we do it again?"

Steve’s eyes widened, a small, incredulous laugh escaping his throat.

“You think you have to ask?”

"And...would you mind if I...take the lead...this time?" You can barely look at him, and your voice is so low that only a super soldier could hear.

"I..."Steve’s heart suddenly skipped. God, you’re wonderfully full of surprises.

"Not at all." Not in a million lifetimes.

"Ok." You inhaled deeply to take charge, but all of a sudden, you stopped. As you were realizing something.

"W-What's wrong?" Steve didn’t dare to speak above a whisper, his mind racing through every possible reason as to why you suddenly hesitated like that.

“Is this…too fast?”

"Oh no." You immediately shook your head: "No, this is wonderful. It's just...my heart is beating so fast and so loud, I don't...I don't even know what to do with it, just...just give me a second to recover. Hold to that thought a little longer."

You wave your face with a hand, as you couldn’t breathe. Is too loud. This is too loud. Your heart was pounding too fast, you were afraid he could hear it. That everyone in this campus could hear it.

"Oh for god's sake!" He laughed so hard. His heart suddenly swelled, the moment was perfect…perfect in a way he never realized possible. He couldn't believe it, how can you be so adorable and drive him to the edge of wildness at the same time.

As you struggle to catch your breath and calm your racing heart, your eyes are drawn to him. His smile, his laughter, the sparkle in his eyes, the way he holds your hand. 

And in a moment of dumbfounded wonder, you find yourself uttering, "Are you even real…?”

He sighed, a long exhale filled with tenderness and emotions he couldn't yet understand. His forehead rested against yours as he whispered back with a smile.

"If I'm not real...your imagination is pretty damn amazing..."

"...I think this is beyond my imagination..."

Steve slowly moved his hand down to your cheek, gently brushing his thumb across the blushing skin: "Trust me, my imagination could never have come up with someone like you..."

"But..." You almost trembled under his touch, and as he raised your jaw to look at you, you finally took the lead.

"This is real." 

And you pressed your lips to his for an even more perfect second kiss.

Steve gasped.

They say marvelous things about the first kisses. But how can they say nothing about the second one?

His heart suddenly accelerating within his chest, overtaken by the sensation of your touch. He couldn't think, head completely foggy, mind blurred, with the only clarity of wanting more. 

His hand suddenly grabbed onto your waist, pulling you even closer to him, his own mouth instantly responding against yours. 

He was losing it to the urge, the need, to get even closer to you, to have all of you.

Your whole body was shivering, and when you got a chance to breathe, you uncontrollably whispered his name with a lost voice.

"Steve..."

And that's just it. 

That’s what set Steve on fire.

He slowly shifted his body, pulling you onto his lap so you were now sitting on his thighs. He leaned forwards to your ear, his hot breath on your neck as he spoke in a low whisper, his own voice almost pleading.

"Say it again..."

You opened your watery and moist eyes, and what you released was almost an uncontrolled begging moan, "Steve..." as you pressed your fingers tightly to his skin, unable to bear all these feelings.

Steve suddenly stopped all action, the sound of his name on your lips mixed with that look in your eyes sending a shiver down his spine.

"God..." He said as he breathed heavily and leaned back. Panting. 

For fucks’ sake. He thinks to himself.

"You have no idea what you're doing to me..." 

It took all the willpower within him not to act on his body's needs, not to press you down into the bench and claim all of you right there.

Your mind was so blurred and your body and heart were reacting so out of control that you had no idea what you were saying. So you just answered spontaneously in between panting breaths, "...Helping you with your sleeping problems?"

Steve chuckled. You were magical. His body was distressed after your reply, but still so pending on everything you made him feel. He looked at your blushed face and heard your agitated breathing. He couldn't understand how you truly had no idea of the effect you had on him, of how badly he wanted you right now. So he took a deep breath in, trying to hold himself back.

"Helping to sleep?" His thumb caressed your lips. "More like keeping me awake..."

"Oh..." As if you had any idea of how that had happened, ending up in his lap with this kiss that would haunt you for the rest of your life.

"So do you need another bedtime story?"

Steve chuckled again, your words bringing him back into the moment, grounding him a bit. He looked at you and smiled, shaking his head. "No, that's a wrap for today. But I need to ask you something."

Something he wanted to ask since you sat by his side tonight. But well, is not his fault that he was so easily distracted by you.

"And be honest with me, okay?" He inhaled slowly, and for a strange reason, his nerves rose again when you nodded. He slowly ran his eyes over your face, the way the light from the city below flickered on your skin. 

And for a moment he hesitated in asking, what if the answer was not what he expected?

"Are you...seeing anyone right now...? Like...do you have a...boyfriend...?"

"Oh." From all the questions on earth, this was the last one you expected. So you nodded. 

"Yeah, I do, from Mondays to Fridays, during working hours. Then, I'm allowed to hang around the campus at midnight to find a super soldier, sit on his lap, and kiss him."

Steve's eyes widened when he heard the first part, and then a loud laughter escaped his lips. 

He felt his heart filled with inexplicable joy. Damn, you were good. He was so glad, he couldn't stop smiling, and he felt his soul was full with your hand interlocked with his. As two perfect matched pieces from a puzzle.

"Well...?" You lifted an eyebrow at him.

"What?"

"Are you?" You looked at him as if it were an obvious implication. "Seeing someone?"

"No." He was firm, the small smile still on his face. He looked up at you, slowly shaking his head. "No...I haven't been with anyone for a while...I haven't had any reason to..." And he sighed a gentle whisper, "...up until now, anyway..."

You were terrible at getting indirect answers. Your brain only worked with binary stuff. So you blinked several times, making sure you understood correctly.

"And...can you consider that possibility, right now?"

Steve held his gaze steady on yours, "What if...what if I said I already had someone in mind?"

"Is she...helping you with your sleeping problems? Or...a very good storyteller?"

Steve suddenly let out a chuckle. "Maybe ...but it's not just about the sleep, you know...It's about...having that person there...that one person who's always there for you...that one person who always makes you smile..." As you.

"...that person you can always be yourself around..." As you. He thought, while observing you, expecting your reaction.

"Well..." You nodded, thinking about it seriously. "I....I don't know if I'd be a good fit but...."

"...But...?"

Steve's nerves built again as you paused for a moment, he wanted to know if you were saying what he thought you were about to say.

"But I promise I'll do everything in my power to make you smile...and...and I'll be there...always...and...I'll do anything..." 

Your lack of courage didn't let you finish under the look of Steve's gaze. He was so serious that you started to stutter and couldn't finish those stupid words.

Well done. That sounded so cliche. You couldn't believe yourself.

But Steve sat there, completely stunned and frozen, your words slowly sinking in within his mind. He couldn't believe what you'd just said, how you'd spoken to them with such honesty, such conviction. And you weren't even together yet, you weren't a couple, you weren't...anything, really.

And his stomach was twisting into a knot as he listened to your every word, as he heard the meaning behind them.

A strange kind of calm washed over him, as if a weight was suddenly slowly lifted from his chest. You couldn't have said it better. He couldn't even imagine better, and yet, everything you said was exactly what he hoped you'd say, and those words had calmed and soothed something within him he'd never realized needed soothing.

"I AM SO SORRY." You, in the other hand, were a mess while he was still wonderstruck, thinking that made him feel so uncomfortable. "I'll take it back, I didn't say anything."

"No." He replied immediately. No, don't you dare take that back from me. 

He wanted to speak, wanted to say so much, but the words failed him. So he inhaled deeply, and cupped your face in his hands, pressed his forehead to yours.

"I m, I'm just...stunned, I'm just...marveled."

"Huh?" This emotional rollercoaster was killing you. "Why?"

Steve suddenly let out a small chuckle, your innocence and naivety when it came to your affect on him just kept him in endless wonder. But he had time. You'll find out eventually how important you are. And that makes him smile. That's a wonderful word: "Eventually." Means you have so much ahead of you together.

"Because...I've never heard anyone say the things you just said to me, that's why..."

"Oh." You are not really good at interpreting people's faces. So you just don't know what to say, and to be honest, there's something else you want to ask.

"Steve?"

"Mmh?"

"Can I have your phone number?"

Steve laughed again, God, what a night. How can you be this...amazing? He pulled the phone out, turning it on and pulling up the screen as he spoke.

"Of course you can...here...put your number in..."

"Yeah..." You rubbed your nose. "I don't know my phone number...Maybe...you can search it in the...public contact list? Here, let me help you." You say while entering your complete name in the organization's internal app.

"Oh." Steve frowns. "You don't know your phone number?"

"Well, do you?" You return his cellphone after finding your contact card in the top level section.

"I know EVERYONE'S number." Steve has a smirk on his face, his playful side suddenly coming out.

"Really? WHY?" You wonder. "You're on Level 0, you should have access to everything, you don't need to have to know the numbers by heart..."

"Because...I'm Captain America, I have to know these things..."

You take this joke so seriously, you're shocked. "REALLY? You know...like all the avenger's numbers?"

Steve snorted a laugh, the look on your face priceless. Oh, you gorgeous, adorable being. And he had this urge, of kissing you again, so he smiled, leaning a little closer to you as he spoke, his hand tightening around your waist, pulling you closer.

"Yeah...yeah I do...every single one..."

Your eyes sparkled.

"Can I have Thor's?"

"What?" That got him off guard, and he answered really fast. "NO." No way. You stay away from him. You're mine. 

"Why? Does he even use these things?" You were so genuinely intrigued. "Don't you talk to him through a magic mirror or something?"

"W...what..." Steve didn't know what to answer, he was laughing and shaking his head while swiping his contacts. "No, we don't have magic mirrors, I actually do have his number, look, over here 'God Of Thunder'..."

"Wow, did you actually name him 'God Of Thunder'?" You find that incredibly cute.

"Oh yeah...I'm one of those people that put's everything..." He held his phone in front of you.

"...well here it is...there's 'The Mighty Thor', the 'King of Asgard', also 'God of Thunder'...and 'Thunder God'...pick your favorite..."

You look at him while his sight is on the screen of his phone, your voice almost a whisper. 

"And...um...what would be...my contact name?"

"Well..." Steve's eyes were glancing down to his phone at your question, wondering what he would call you. He paused for a moment, scrolling to the section of his contacts list, his thumb hovering over the small, blank box for your name. He thought for a moment longer.

"What would you want it to be...?"

And your words escaped from your mouth before you could think clearly, before you could reply with anything smart.

"What do you want me to be? …to you?"

Steve suddenly froze, his finger hovering over the blank contact name as your words echoed in his ears, filling his mind. 

He straightened his pose, his eyes met yours, looking deep into them, silently trying to figure out what you'd just said.

And he finally exhaled slowly, his thoughts racing through his mind again, unable to form words for a moment. He could only manage a quiet voice, a soft whisper.

"How about...my Everything."

And there was once upon a time, a soldier who couldn't sleep asked for a wish to a fairy.

So there you were, feeling your heart has exploded into a million shining butterflies, and all the stars of the universe have made your wish come true, you took his hand and smiled.

"Your wish is granted, soldier."

END but TBC

Continue to:

2: Lucid |

3: Reverie |

4: Nightmare |

5: Awakening |

6: Dusk |

7: Hypnagogia |

8: Lull |

9: Vigil |

10: Eclipse |

Hii thanks for reading & thanks for sticking with me this far <3 I hope you liked it and it wasn't too long to boring. This is my first time writing in english, hope it wasn't terrible :3 also, this is my first time setting this thing in tumblr, so fingers crossed it worked out okay ;_; A special hug to this lady who helped me set this up @jamneuromain (I still have no idea how this works)

Love.,

Moon.

[munson-blurbs]

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!Reader Series

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14

Summary: Will's birthday party brings back some familiar faces and gives Eddie the perfect opportunity to make amends with Corroded Coffin, but an unexpected interruption might have him hurtling towards his old ways.

Warnings: some dirty talk (18+ only just in case), drinking/drunkenness (everyone is over 21), pregnancy and labor complications, mentions of past bullying

WC: 8.2k

Chapter 14/20

Divider credit to @saradika Special shoutout to @storiesbyrhi and @corroded-hellfire for helping with the fluffy sections and making this piece strong.

--

Afternoons at Hawkins Preschool are predictable: storytime on the carpet is followed by the kids’ pack-up routine, and once all belongings are shoved into their proper backpacks, they file out the door to go home. 

Predictable is good. It’s safe. And it certainly doesn’t include a fire drill half an hour before dismissal. 

Herding nine children through the bustling hallways and trying to ensure no one is left behind is overwhelming enough. Factor in the ear-splitting alarm and the surge of adrenaline pulsing through your students once they re-enter your classroom, and you’ve got the perfect recipe for chaos. 

Instead of fighting a losing battle to keep the kids calm and quiet, you’d opted to plunk them down with myriad art supplies and called it a day. 

Now, after the last student had been picked up, you and Will are left cleaning the mess they’d made. Broken crayons are scattered across the tabletops, there’s Play-Doh of various colors stuck to the floor, and gold glitter—when did you even acquire glitter?—dusts every surface. 

“Seriously…who thought that that timing was a good idea?” Will grumbles, tossing a Crayola stub into the crayon basket. He adopts a nasal, mocking tone. “‘What would help out our teachers? Oh, I know—let’s interrupt their dismissal routines!’”

You laugh despite your own exhaustion. Somehow, you’ll have to muster up the energy to tutor Harris tonight. 

Will reaches into the cupboard to grab his car keys, turning back around with a smile that he only offers you when he needs something. “Could I ask you for a little favor?”

There it is. “How little?” You cock one brow as you clip a stack of papers together.

“Eensy weensy. Miniscule. Microscopic–”

“The more you say it, the less I believe you.”

“Okay, okay,” Will acquiesces, twirling his keyring around his forefinger. “So, for my birthday thing on Saturday…a bunch of my childhood friends are gonna be there. Mike, Dustin, Suzie, Lucas, Max, Jane…” he lists them, ticking off each name on his fingers. “Anyway, I was hoping that maybe you could talk to Eddie about a Corroded Coffin reunion? I know they’re on a hiatus or whatever, but if anyone can convince him to play, it’s you.”

He’s not wrong; you’re the most likely person to get Eddie to do, well, anything. But asking him to make amends with Danny and Gareth and getting their band to play a gig three days from now seems like a mountainous task.

Will is staring at you, hands clasped together pleadingly. He’s too optimistic for his own good, and you can’t help but give in.

“Fine, I’ll try. But–hey, don’t get excited yet,” you warn when he pumps his fist in celebration. “‘Try’ is the key word here. I’m not making any promises.”

Your admonition goes unheeded as Will already considers it a victory. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” You give him a small, tight-lipped wave as he dashes out the door. You and Eddie were already planning to attend the party; you’d spent part of last night scouring an art store for the perfect gift. And he and Jeff were back to being thick as thieves…maybe this could work. 

“All right, Mr. Harris,” you say with a laugh, hurriedly placing tiles of various shapes in front of him. You need to make the most of the few minutes you have left until Eddie arrives. There’s a soft, familiar flutter in your stomach as you think about seeing your boyfriend, but you know you can’t compete with him for Harris’s attention. “Can you find the…trapezoid?” The inflection in your voice makes it sound like a much more exciting task than it really is, and you hope it’s enough to wrangle his focus. 

Harris pokes out his tiny pink tongue as he assesses the tiles. He initially reaches for the blue rhombus, but as soon as his little finger touches it, he pulls away as though it’s on fire. “No…that’s not it.” You tuck your lips into your mouth to suppress your amusement as he thoughtfully taps his forefinger on his lips. A solid ten seconds pass before he triumphantly snatches up the correct tile. “Got it!” he beams, showing off the red trapezoid in his hand.

“You did! You got the trapezoid!” You hold up your hand for a high-five, frowning when he shakes his head. His overgrown curls brush along his eyebrows, and you wonder if it’s your place to suggest that Eddie take him for a haircut. “No high-five?”

“Nuh-uh,” Harris protests, now swiveling his whole body in defiance. “I want…tickles!” He holds his arms out, leaving his torso wide open.

Lips pursed in faux consideration, you lower your voice to a hushed whisper. “Hmm…I think that warrants a visit from the Tickle Monster!” You flex your fingers so they resemble claws; he instinctively scrunches up in anticipation, arms tucked into his stomach. You let out your silliest wicked cackle as your fingers dig mercilessly into his sides in pursuit of his most ticklish spots. Delighted peals of laughter emanate from his chest, and you don’t stop until the buzzer rings, signaling Eddie’s arrival.

Harris’s eyes get wide, mischief dancing behind his pupils. “Do you think the Tickle Monster should get Daddy?” he asks, keeping his voice low despite it only being the two of you. 

“Oh, absolutely.” You buzz Eddie in while formulating the game plan aloud. “I’ll grab the pizza and you go on the attack. Once the food is secured, I’ll join you.” You stick out your pinky, and he wraps his own around it. 

“Ms. Sweetheart?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

His words turn your heart into a chocolate chip cookie fresh out of the oven, ooey gooey and destined to crumble if handled too harshly. “I love you, too, Harris,” you manage, blinking back embarrassing tears. The flood of emotion is absurd; he probably tells his stuffed animals that he loves them with the same fervor, but you can’t deny the adoration with which he looks at you.

He flings his arms around you in a hug, squeezing tight. Face pressed to your ribs, his words are muffled but still audible when he says, “I don’t know why Daddy says it’s hard to say ‘I love you.’”

He doesn’t have time to further elaborate before Eddie’s knocking on the door. “Special delivery for my two favorite people!” Your heart beats faster with the knowledge that he’s on the other side, that you’ll be able to sneak in a kiss or two. 

You and Harris share devious grins, the little boy emulating your monster-esque stance from earlier. He creeps behind you on his tiptoes, and bites back a giggle when you slowly open the door, counting down from three under your breath.

“Hi–whoa!” Eddie stumbles back as Harris barrels into him, little fingers dancing across his lower stomach. You quickly snatch the pizza box from Eddie’s grasp and place it on the table before darting back to where his son has ambushed him. You start on his bicep and let your nails travel upwards until they reach the crook of his neck. 

“I’m under attack!” Eddie yelps, twitching this way and that way in a meager attempt to protect himself. “I bring you pizza and this is how I’m repaid?” He easily scoops Harris into his arms, flinging him over his shoulder. Harris lets out an exhilarated squeal, carelessly kicking his sock-clad feet into his dad’s chest. “Jesus, little dude. You’re getting too strong.” Wincing slightly from the pinch in his back as he places the boy on the floor, he gives his tush a little pat and tells him to wash up for dinner, reminding him to use soap and water.

As soon as Harris scampers off into the bathroom, Eddie’s grabbing you by the belt loops of the wide-leg jeans you’d changed into when you got home. One hand slides around your waist and the other finds purchase on your cheek as he kisses you deeply, keeping a listening ear out for the telltale pitter-patter of Harris returning. 

“Missed you,” he murmurs into your mouth, and you shiver at the intimacy this closeness brings.

You laugh quietly, biting your lower lip. “We just saw each other this morning,” you remind him, sneaking in another quick peck.

Eddie shakes his head. “Y’know what I mean. Can’t do this while you’re on the clock,” he counters, shifting his grip so both hands rest on either side of your face. You think he’s going to kiss you again, but he just gazes into your eyes. “Shit, you’re so fuckin’ pretty. Couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you today.” He rests the slope of his nose on yours, only snapping out of his trance at the sound of Harris rapidly switching the faucet on and off. “Let me go check on him before this place is underwater,” he whispers, giving your own ass a smack as he shuffles towards his mischievous son, a cheeky grin deepening his dimples.

You do your best to compose yourself, heat creeping up your neck and into your face. Busying yourself by placing pizza slices onto paper plates does little to distract you; it’s as though every neuron is dedicated to flooding your brain with Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. 

The way the pads of his fingertips brush against your cheeks when he holds your face. The plush moisture of his lips when he kisses your forehead. The tickle of his brown tresses when he nuzzles into you and takes a deep breath, finally able to relax after a long day. 

“Are you expecting a guest?” Eddie pipes up from the kitchen entrance. A perplexed frown overtakes your lips until he gestures to what you’ve laid out in front of you: four slices of pizza, two plain and two with olives, on four plates. 

Your vision gets a bit fuzzy with tears when you realize what you’ve done. “No, it’s, um…” Nostrils flare as you huff out a short puff of air, hot under your nose. “Force of habit, sorry.” You’ve been so diligent about only serving three slices, but your preoccupation with his touch had your mind drifting from the task at hand.

It takes him a moment to process what you mean, but when he does, his face falls. It was for Grandma. “It’s okay,” he says, cringing as the words leave his mouth. Because it’s not okay that you’re sad; it’s normal, but frustration still tugs at his heart that he can’t take it away.

It feels wrong to return the slice to the box, so you leave it where it is. Eddie balances the three plates, sliding a plain one in front of Harris. The boy digs in hungrily, sauce caught on the edges of his smile.

“How was work?” you ask Eddie, grabbing a napkin from the pile in the center of the table. It’s a simple question, one that people ask each other all the time, but it stirs up a warmth inside of him. It’s you asking him, fostering a domestic routine that he could follow for the rest of his life. He’d walk through the door of your house, wiping his shoes on the welcome mat you two had picked out together. The kids–Harris, plus another Little Munson or two–would practically knock him down trying to greet him, and he’d engulf them in bear hugs before reaching out to you, kissing your forehead with a murmured, “there’s my girl.”

“Eds?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, it was good.” He stumbles over the words, trying to clear his head of the fantasy he’d conjured up. “Lotsa paperwork, y’know.” He takes a bite of pizza, chewing thoughtfully. “What about you?”

You shrug, watching amusedly as Harris sinks his teeth into his slice and manages to pull all of the cheese off of the crust in one fell swoop. “The usual. The kids are learning about springtime, so Will decided to do a craft making flowers using finger paint and their handprints.”

“Sounds messy.”

“Oh, absolutely,” you agree with a weary grin, “but it was super cute, and Will is great with all that art stuff.” You excuse yourself from the table to get the water pitcher and three glasses, stopping when you remember your TA’s request. “He also asked me if a certain local metal band could play his birthday party on Saturday…?”

Eddie pauses mid-chew, nearly choking on his food. The cheese seems to congeal in his mouth when he tries to speak. “Um, I don’t know about that,” he finally manages, nervously massaging the back of his neck. “I haven’t talked to Danny or Gareth since…”

“I know, but you said you wanted to make things right with them,” you point out. “Maybe Jeff can test the waters? See if they’re ready to talk to you?”

“Maybe.” He averts his gaze, staring at the pizza slice without taking another bite. 

You don’t want to further push the subject in Harris’s presence; instead, you turn your attention to the little boy. “Anything fun happen at school today, Har?”

“Nah,” he responds automatically just a half-second before his eyes light up. “Actually, yeah! My friend Charlie ate a bug at recess today!”

“Ew!” you exclaim, wrinkling your nose in pure disgust, as Eddie simultaneously poses the question, “what kind of bug?”

“An ant,” Harris answers his dad nonchalantly, as though ant-eating is an everyday occurrence. Perhaps it is, which is even more unsettling. 

“Did you eat any bugs?” You’re afraid of his response; you’re unsure why you even asked in the first place. 

To your relief, he shakes his head, a forlorn look on his cherubic face. “No, I couldn’t catch any in time.”

“Thank God for small miracles,” you mutter, turning back to your original task of getting something to drink. Though if the topic of bug consumption continues, you’ll need something much stronger than water. 

Could Corroded Coffin play again?

It’s a thought that consumes Eddie for the entirety of his drive home, barely able to listen to Harris yammering about how there’s a coin in his jacket pocket that he doesn’t remember putting there. He throws a few lackluster mhms his son’s way and hopes he’s too distracted by the mystery coin to catch on. 

We’re getting the band back together. Well, if Jake and Elwood Blues could swing it, maybe he could, too. 

He waits until Harris is asleep to call Jeff. Getting his son to do his bedtime routine is easiest on Wednesday nights; he’s usually exhausted after a full day of school and tutoring. The one time that Eddie could use an excuse to procrastinate, Harris is out like a light. 

Go to voicemail go to voicemail go to—

“‘Lo?”

Shit. “H-Hey, man,” Eddie begins awkwardly. “How’s it going? Viv doing okay?”

“We’re good. She’s ready to have this baby already. I reminded her, ‘just two more weeks,’ but then she told me to ‘fuck off’ until I’m the pregnant one, so…” he chuckles, more nervous than amused. “Everything good with you? Harris?”

“Yeah, we’re fine. Just, um,” he struggles to find the words, blurting out the first ones that enter his brain. They come out in a rush before he can stop them. “Do Gareth and Danny still hate me?”

Jeff takes a sharp breath in; his reaction does nothing to temper Eddie’s nerves. “They never hated you. They were just…disappointed? Jesus, I sound like my mom.” 

Eddie misses his friend’s anecdote, too wrapped up in his head to fully pay attention. Somehow, disappointed stings worse than the prospect of being hated, especially when the people he’s let down are ones who used to idolize him. “Do you think there’s a way they could be…undisappointed in me? Like, enough to forgive me and maybe play a gig this weekend?”

There’s an extended pause, and then a one-word response: “Christ.” 

Eddie can picture Jeff rubbing his eyes in exasperation, and he scrambles to explain. “Will Byers–you remember him? He was in Hellfire; had that weird bowl cut thing going on?”

“Mhm.”

“He’s having a birthday thing at the Hideout on Saturday and asked if we could play. Just a coupla songs.”

Jeff thinks for a moment; Eddie can hear him drumming his fingers on a nearby surface.

“Why don’t you come over tomorrow night around…6?” he ventures. “I’ll invite the guys and we can…I dunno, figure something out.”

“Thanks, man. I owe you.” He’s about to hang up when he remembers to ask, “Can I bring Harris?”

“Of course.”

“Har, slow down!” Eddie’s barely unbuckled his son’s car seat before Harris has wriggled out of the sedan, bolting straight for Jeff’s door.

“But I haven’t seen Uncle Danny and Uncle Gareth in forever!” he laments, reaching the house far faster than Eddie. He stands on tiptoes and rings the doorbell like a madman, forefinger jamming into the button at warp speed. “Uncle Jeff! It’s me!”

Jeff opens the door with a huge smile. “Mini Munson!” He scoops the boy up into a hug. “What’s new with you, little dude?”

“I got a wiggly tooth!” Harris exclaims, jutting out his jaw and pressing his tongue against the front center of his mouth. Sure enough, the baby tooth moves slightly forward, and he giggles. “Daddy says the Tooth Fairy’s gonna come and leave me a dollar,” he matter-of-factly reports. He peeks his head over Jeff’s shoulder, squealing and squirming out of his grip when he spots the two men sitting on the couch. He flings himself onto the sofa and plunks himself down into Gareth’s lap. “Hi!”

“Hey, kiddo!” Gareth chirps. “You’re getting so big.”

“‘M five now. I had a birthday party because I turned five.” He splays out his palm to offer five fingers. 

“Did your friends go?”

“Yup!” Harris beams at the memory. “An’ Daddy an’ Grampa Wayne an’ Ms. Sweetheart.”

Danny furrows his brows. “Who’s Ms. Sweetheart?”

“She’s my almost-mommy. Daddy has to fall in love with her first.” 

“Is that so?” Gareth smirks at Eddie. His teasing look is the first crack in the wall that has separated the men for the last six months, and though Eddie is thoroughly embarrassed, it alleviates some of his anxiety.

“Uh, Har Bear, why don’t you go hang out with Auntie Viv while I talk with the guys?”

Viv holds out her left hand, looking utterly exhausted. Her right hand rests on her bump, eyes sending a telepathic message to Jeff that they have five minutes—ten minutes, if Harris behaves well—to come to a solution before she needs a break. 

Silence filters into the room as Eddie fumbles to address the mess he’s made. If Danny and Gareth are here, they’re at least willing to listen to him, which is honestly farther than he’d assumed he’d get. 

He remembers what Harris said about apologizing; technically, what you’d taught him about apologizing: the act of saying sorry, not merely implying it, makes a world of difference. 

“I was an asshole,” he starts. It’s not his most eloquent statement, but it certainly gets the point across. “Not just that night at the Hideout, or at our last practice. I was an asshole for a long time before that. And…I’m sorry.” It feels good to say it; it feels even better that they’re nodding, seeming to believe him. “You guys didn’t deserve to be treated like that.”

Of the rest of the band, Gareth is the one to speak first. “I guess I’m just wondering, why? Why be an asshole to us? We’ve always been there for you.”

“I know.” Eddie fiddles with a thread hanging from his t-shirt, pulling on it until it snaps off. He shoves it in his jeans pocket, not wanting to mess up Jeff and Viv’s place. “Honestly…I’m not sure, but I think it’s because you guys are everything I’m not.”

“What are you talking about?” Danny asks, tone heavy with disbelief. 

“In high school, I was the one you looked up to. The person you wanted to be like. And then I had a kid with some random chick I thought I knew but barely did, gave up my dreams of being a musician, and started selling weed again just to scrape by. And here you guys are. Jeff,” he motions to the friend leaning against the sofa’s arm, “you have a baby on the way with the love of your life. And all of you have goddamn college degrees and jobs that you don’t despise and don’t require you to hide from the law.” He shoves his ringed fingers into his jacket pockets, lowering his voice to barely above a whisper. “And I was nothing.”

Gareth scratches at the upholstery with one finger, absorbing everything he’s just heard. “You know we never stopped looking up to you, right?” He gives a short laugh when Eddie’s eyes widen. “Yeah, man. Leaving Chicago so you could take care of Harris? Putting your kid before yourself? That’s pretty badass.”

Danny nods. “Ed, if there’s someone here to look up to, it’s you.” Both he and Eddie visibly relax. Shoulders drop from their hunched positions, thin lips unfurling into smiles. “No matter what you went through, you never gave up. Even if it almost killed us,” he adds wryly, referring to all of the sleep-deprived Corroded Coffin practices fueled by black coffee and pure adrenaline.

“No fancy diploma can teach us how to stand up for ourselves, or how not to take shit from people, or how to be a dad,” Jeff pipes up from where he’s standing. “We learn from you, man.”

Eddie’s cheeks burn at the compliments, unsure how to accept them. He’d walked in expecting to have to beg for forgiveness, and they were the ones reassuring him. It’s now or never, and he forges ahead while he still has the courage. “Do you…can we get the band back together?” Can we be friends again is the underlying plea, but it’s too vulnerable a statement to make. “We’ll keep it low-key, I promise. Work, family, anything comes up…we can cancel or reschedule. And I won’t be a dick about it.”

The three other men look at one another, nod and turn back to Eddie with smart grins and mischievous glimmers in their eyes.

“On one condition.” Gareth crosses his arms over his chest, smirking as he sinks back against the couch. “You tell us all about this ‘Ms. Sweetheart.’”

The Hideout, normally dingy and coated in a film of sticky ale, has been decked out for Will’s birthday party. Helium-filled balloons in every color bob along the low ceiling, vibrating with the thumping bass of the old sound system. Crepe paper streamers–purple, Will’s favorite color–sway gently with the air that rushes in from opening the door. This has to be Marshall’s handiwork, and it brings a smile to your face. If anyone deserves a partner who fawns over him, it’s Will.

You spot him surrounded by a group of people as the bartender slides a row of tequila shots across the bar and into their eager hands. While they’re distracted by alcohol, you take the opportunity to dart towards the backstage area.

Eddie’s there, digging around for his lucky pick. You wrap your arms around his waist, fingers pressed into the soft dough of his tummy.

“Hey, Rockstar,” you murmur against his neck, kissing just below his earlobe. 

He turns around, jaw dropping when he sees you in a maroon slip dress. The heels on your feet have you two inches taller than usual, and he has to shift where his gaze normally lands to meet your eyes.

“Fuckin’ Christ, baby,” Eddie practically growls, kissing you deeply. One hand presses against the small of your back while the other grabs the plush of your ass, kneading it in his palm. “You’re so fuckin’ sexy. How’m I gonna go out there and play with you looking like that?”

“I’ll make it worth your while.” You giggle when he offers up a bemused smile. “If you do a good job tonight, I’ll give you a reward.” You let your fingertips graze over the metal teeth of his pants zipper, feeling him twitch at your light touch. 

“You’re dangerous,” he winks, delivering another kiss; this time, he gives your lower lip a little bite when he pulls away. His kohl-rimmed eyes draw you in just as they did that first night you’d met, but now you dive into them without the fear of drowning. 

A tactful “ahem” from the now-open doorway startles both you and Eddie, having been floating in an embrace that’s equal parts comfort and desire.

“Sorry to interrupt the lovefest, but we’re on in five,” a man’s voice calls from the doorway. You turn around to see the other three Corroded Coffin members standing there, amusement evident in their expressions.

“You must be Ms. Sweetheart,” one of the guys, soft curls resting atop his head, pipes up. His tone is teasing, but not mocking; the nickname is said with admiration and affection. “I’m Gareth, by the way.” 

“Danny,” the one with tight, wiry curls offers, giving a small wave.

Jeff just shrugs. “You know me.”

Eddie grabs his guitar, slinging the strap across his body. His pants’ fly is tight, and he wills himself to calm down before it’s time to perform. He hasn’t worried about being hard on stage since he was nineteen, but thoughts of your bodies perfectly melding into each other has him subtly adjusting himself as he turns his back to his bandmates.

“See ya out there, baby,” he says before pressing a quick kiss to your cheek. The brief contact between you has you biting your tongue in self-beration for suggesting that the band play tonight. All you want is to dance with him, allowing the steady flow of alcohol to dull your inhibitions as you pull him impossibly close. Not caring who sees or what they think. 

But this night isn’t about you or Eddie. It’s about Will, your TA-turned-friend who has kept you sane amidst your adorably chaotic students and their decidedly less adorable and more chaotic parents. He wanted Corroded Coffin to play his party, and that’s the least you could do for him. 

Will’s already teetering between tipsy and inebriated, breath tinged with the scent of tequila as he introduces you to his friends.

“This is my amazing boyfriend, Marshall.” He smacks a wet kiss to the man’s cheek. “And these are my friends from growing up: Dustin and Suzie, Lucas and Max, and Mike and Jane.” His face melts into a sappy grin as he leans on Marshall to hold him up. “You guys! We’re all in looooove!”

“Jesus Christ,” Dustin mutters, rolling his eyes and shaking his head before turning his attention back to you. “Can we get you something to drink?”

Will raises his empty glass. “I’ll take another–”

“Not you.”

You manage to sneak in a quick conversation with Max, Suzie, and Jane before Corroded Coffin starts their set. Max is finishing up her Masters in English literature at New York University, set to graduate in two months. Suzie programs for NASA, and though Florida is a far cry from her home state of Utah, she loves her job. And Jane is a social worker at a local adoption agency, the cause close to her heart, as she was adopted by Chief Hopper years ago.

“Damn,” you laugh, taking a small sip of your vodka soda. You’re having so much fun that you don’t even care that it’s been watered down. “You’re all such badasses!”

Your admiration of their collective girl power is cut short by the sound of Corroded Coffin taking the stage. It’s as though they’d never taken an extended break; just picked up right where they left off. You cheer so loudly that there’s a pinch in your throat, but you push past it. It’s more than applause. There’s so much tucked away in your yell: I’m proud of you; you’re a rockstar; you’re my person forever, if you’ll have me.

“Hello, Hawkins!” Eddie bellows into the mic. There’s no missing the grin on his face. He’s happy. He’s in his element. He’s where he belongs. 

“No way!” Lucas exclaims, awestruck as he turns to Will.

“Dude, you got Corroded Coffin?” Mike mirrors his friend’s excitement. He slings an arm around Will’s shoulder and pulls him in for a side hug. “This is fuckin’ awesome!”

“The first song of the night goes out to our guest of honor, Will Byers!” Everyone hoots and hollers as Eddie plays the opening chords to The Clash’s Should I Stay or Should I Go. Eddie told you he remembered that the song was one of Will’s favorites growing up; his older brother had gotten him into the band. Sure enough, Will’s bopping to the rhythm, singing every word, albeit quite off-key. 

Corroded Coffin plays a few more songs from their usual setlist, nerves dissipating with each note, before Eddie speaks into the mic again. 

“This next one is for my beautiful girlfriend,” he announces, eyes gazing into yours. “Baby, if my teachers looked like you, I actually would’ve gone to class.”

He nods at Gareth, who starts playing an incredibly complicated beat. As soon as you hear it, you feel your cheeks heat up. The rest of the guys join in on their own instruments, and Eddie oozes bravado as he sings. 

“T-Teacher stop that screamin’ Teacher don’t you see Don’t wanna be no uptown fool.”

Max leans in to you and whisper-shouts, “I’ve known Eddie for years, and I’ve never seen him so…happy.”

Lucas overhears his girlfriend and adds his two cents. “That’s because we’ve never seen him in love.”

Warmth spreads all over your body, but it’s not from embarrassment. Allowing yourself to believe that Eddie loves you—is in love with you—opens a door you’d deadbolted until the time was right.  You hadn’t wanted to rush things, but the jolt of exhilaration following Lucas’s statement means you can’t deny it any longer: you love Eddie Munson. You’re in love with Eddie Munson. 

“Got it bad, got it bad, got it bad I'm hot for teacher I've got it bad, so bad I'm hot for teacher.”

Will takes the opportunity to twirl you around, and you laugh as you spin amongst new friends, your drink threatening to spill over the sides as he turns you faster.

“Hey! Thank you, by the way!” he shouts, probably a bit louder than he needs to.

“For what?”

“For getting Corroded Coffin to play!” He jerks a thumb towards the stage, stumbling a bit as he does. He’d managed to sneak another tequila shot when his boyfriend left him unattended to use the restroom, and it definitely shows. “And for, like, being there for me.”

You give him a hug, immediately understanding the full implication of his statement. “I’ll always have your back,” you promise, filled with the mingled buzzes of alcohol and belonging.

“I think of all the education that I've missed But then my homework was never quite like this!”

Eddie jumps off of the tiny stage and into the crowd of nine twenty-somethings, each at various levels of tipsiness, and reaches for you to pull you close to him. He’s sweating from constantly moving around and the stage lights, his fingers slick with perspiration as he laces them with yours. Jeff picks up the rhythm for the lead guitar while Eddie kisses you, soft and slow and sensual. He loses himself for a moment before hopping back up to join the rest of the band.

As Corroded Coffin wraps up their Van Halen cover and stops for a quick sip of water, there’s a small commotion behind the bar.

“Is there a Jeff Reynolds here?” the bartender calls out, phone receiver in hand.

Jeff gives a little wave, eyebrows raised in surprise. “That’s me.”

“Someone named Jess on the line? Says your girl is in labor and you need to get to the hospital.”

“Holy shit!” Danny claps a hand to Jeff’s back and grins. “C’mon, man! Let’s get you outta here!” 

Jeff freezes up; hands clammy as he grips the guitar’s neck. “Can you drive?” he asks Eddie. 

Eddie recognizes the fear in his friend’s voice. The selfish part of him wants to refuse to take Jeff to Hawkins General. He could easily plant his feet on the stage and keep playing, claiming that ‘the show must go on.’

No, he silently chastises himself, Jeff needs me. He needs me and I’ll be damned if I let him down again. 

“Of course,” Eddie says, trying to force a relaxed disposition. It doesn’t matter; Jeff is too overwhelmed to notice the obvious effort. 

“Take my car,” you offer, keys already dangling from your fingertips. “Eds, I can take yours and pick up Harris from Wayne’s tomorrow.” It’s easier to swap rides than to uninstall and reinstall the carseat, so you’re perplexed when Eddie shakes his head. 

Two words slip through his lips, soft but pronounced: “Need you.” 

Dustin catches wind of the situation and insists on watching Harris until you and Eddie can come back home, claiming he needs to squeeze in as much uncle-nephew bonding time as possible before returning to Florida. 

“Henderson, it’s late; don’t let him stay up,” Eddie warns as he tosses over his car keys. 

Dustin tries catching them in one hand, but they hit the center of his palm and fall to the ground. “But the best part of being an uncle is breaking the rules!” he laughs as he scoops the keys off of the floor. “By the way, I’m not drunk; just a shit baseball player.” Still, Eddie’s sigh of relief is audible when Suzie plucks the keyring from Dustin’s hand. 

With Harris taken care of, you turn your attention to your boyfriend. Eddie’s face is flushed pale, and you’re worried about him behind the wheel. “Want me to drive?” 

He nods and grabs onto your hand as you lead the two men to your car. Eddie’s doing his best to keep Jeff calm, reminding him that the doctors and nurses have everything under control until he gets there. 

“I’m gonna be a dad,” Jeff murmurs, a disbelieving chuckle permeating the otherwise silent car. “Holy shit.”

Eddie can’t help but smile back. “It only gets crazier from here.”

The bright lights of the hospital’s waiting room are anything but soothing, especially compared to the dimly-lit bar you’d just left. You speak to the receptionist, an older woman with a tired smile and red-rouged cheeks, explaining the situation as she pages Jess while Jeff and Eddie take a seat. 

Jeff’s voice is nearly impossible to hear despite the stillness of the room. “The baby was breech at Viv’s last appointment.” He clocks Eddie’s confusion and elaborates. “Feet first, instead of the head. If they didn’t get into the right position and the doctors can’t, I dunno, flip ‘em around? They’ll have to do a c-section.” Long overdue tears spill over his lash line, and he makes no attempt to swipe them away. “I just wanna fix it and I can’t.”

Helplessness. It’s a feeling Eddie knows all too well. He spins a ring around his finger, exhaling softly as he considers a response. He can’t say it’ll be alright, because he has no idea whether or not it will be. He and Jeff both know that. 

“No matter what, I’m here for you.” Eddie’s gaze flits over to the receptionist’s desk, where Jess has now arrived and is waving her brother-in-law over. “You’re up.”

But Jeff remains in his chair, hands shoved under his thighs as though they’re glued to the seat. “I…I don’t know if I can do this. What if something happens to Viv or the baby? How can I…?” He doesn’t allow himself to complete the sentence, to finish the thought.

Instinctively, Eddie puts his hands on Jeff’s shoulders. He can feel them trembling slightly as his friend heaves another shaky breath. “Listen to me. You’re gonna do this. You’re gonna go in that room and watch your girl give birth to your baby. Because if you don’t, you’re gonna regret it for the rest of your fuckin’ life.” He glances around and lowers his voice. “I know you’re scared, okay? I get it. And once your kid is safely here, we can talk about it. But right now, you need to pull it together and go be a goddamn dad.”

Jeff nods, finally acquiring the physical stability to stand. “Thank you,” he whispers, clearing his throat and wiping the wet stains from his cheeks. He starts towards Jess before turning back to Eddie. “Could you stay until the baby’s born? If you have to get home to Harris, I understand…”

There it is: his out. He can easily use his son as an excuse, despite the fact that Dustin and Suzie were perfectly capable of babysitting him. He can hightail it out of here and never look back. He can crawl into bed and feel sorry for himself for having to step foot in a godforsaken maternity ward again.

“Yeah. I can stay.”

Nearly an hour passes with Eddie’s head resting on your shoulder, relaying what Jeff told him. Identical knots form in your stomachs as the seriousness of the complications sets in. You don’t say a word as he speaks; you just try to shift without disturbing him. The cushion on the chair back, worn thin, digs into you uncomfortably, but you don’t dare move too much. His vulnerability is a deer that will scamper away at the slightest startle.

You think he’s fallen asleep until you feel his soft lips on your cheek, a muffled, “mine?” against your skin. You note his phrasing; it’s careful and unsure, a symptom of being in his own head for far too long. 

“Of course I’m yours,” you whisper back, pressing a kiss to his scalp. “What’s got you asking such silly questions?”

“I don’t like this.” It’s an answer and non-answer all in one. 

“Being in a hospital?”

He shakes his head, frizzed curls tickling the crook of your neck. His forehead is sticky with cooled perspiration. “Waiting to see if the baby is okay.”

The realization hits you like a punch to the stomach, immediately hollowing you out. The last time he went through this, it was when Harris was being born. You can’t think of anything to say, so you just nuzzle in closer to him and exhale.

“Why do I feel like this?” Neither of you are sure if he’s asking you, himself, or the universe. “‘S not the same. Viv’s not using drugs; Jeff stuck around the whole time…”

“Doesn’t matter. That’s not how this stuff works, y’know?” You adjust your position so you can look into his eyes. The whites are stained red with worry and exhaustion. “Your gig got interrupted, just like when Harris was born. And there's uncertainty now, too. It’s normal for these kinds of memories to get dredged up.” Your palm rests on his cheek, thumb gently stroking the skin as you ask, “can you try to get some sleep?”

“But what if Jeff needs—”

“I’ll wake you up if he needs you,” you reassure him, settling back into the chair. You lean your head against the wall; the heaviness in your eyelids battles the anxious fluttering in your stomach, but it seems as though sleep is winning. 

Eddie’s hand finds your forearm, rubbing up and down the gooseflesh that has appeared courtesy of the air conditioning blasting through the building. Shrugging off his jacket and resting the leather fabric over your shoulders, he can relax once he’s reassured that you’re comfortable. He assumes his previous position, using your shoulder as a pillow and falling asleep gradually, body jostling itself awake from the unfamiliar sleeping arrangement. Eventually, you can hear his soft snores; for the first time tonight, he’s peaceful. 

You could tell him now, a whisper under your breath that he’s unlikely to hear. I love you, Eddie. I’m in love with you. Your lips part in anticipation, but you snap them shut. You’re delirious and overwhelmed; Lucas’s throwaway comment about Eddie being in love is rattling around your brain. If you say it and Eddie hears you…

You keep it to yourself for now, letting your body rest while still supporting Eddie’s head. Tomorrow is a new day, with a new life brought into the world. Love—if that’s even what this is—will have to wait until then. 

The soft pink of breaking daylight streams through the windows when Jeff wakes Eddie up six hours later, shaking him by the shoulders. 

“What the fuck?” Eddie grumbles, wiping the sleep from his eyes. When he registers where he is and the potential urgency of the situation, he sits up straight, head filling with fuzziness from the sudden movement. He wouldn’t call the evening restful, but he’d managed to doze off for longer than he’d expected.

“It’s a girl!” Jeff announces, beaming from ear to ear. He’s bouncing on the balls of his feet, bursting with enthusiasm and emotion. 

As soon as Eddie’s vision clears, he’s on his feet and pulling his best friend in for a giant hug. When he steps back, he realizes that he and Jeff sport matching misty eyes. “Dude, you’re officially a dad now. You have a daughter!”

“I have a daughter,” Jeff repeats incredulously. His eyes cloud with tears, and he blinks them away as he peers over at the empty seat next to Eddie. “Did your lady go home?”

Eddie swivels around, so caught up in the moment that he hadn’t realized he was alone. She left. She left without me; she didn’t want to stick around and deal with–

“Did Viv have the baby?” Your excited voice penetrates through his intrusive thoughts as you stroll in from the hallway. The makeup around your eyes is smudged; you’d tried to wipe some of it off in the bathroom, but water and thin hospital paper towels are no substitute for makeup wipes. “Sorry, I had to pee.”

Eddie smiles at the sight of you, still wearing his jacket. He hopes his sigh of relief is concealed by Jeff’s exuberance. “A girl. Six pounds, ten ounces.” He shoves his hands in his pockets. “Wanna meet her?”

“Of course!” You and Eddie begin following him down the corridor. “Wait, is Viv feeling up to having visitors?” You’re mildly ashamed to admit that, in your eagerness, you’d forgotten about the baby being breech and the possible c-section.

Jeff nods. “I think my daughter’s gonna be a gymnast, ‘cause she’d flipped herself back around between the appointment and last night.” 

There’s no masking Jeff’s pride when he says my daughter, and it makes Eddie want to hug him again. “That’s amazing,” he murmurs. There’s a small pang in his heart, a bead of resentment that Harris’s birth didn’t go so smoothly, but it’s unimportant right now. His best friend just became a father, and he refuses to let his own hang-ups take away from this moment. 

“Hi,” you whisper when Jeff opens the door to room 1007. Viv is propped up against pillows, exhausted but happier than she’s ever been before. Your gaze is immediately drawn to the hours-old bundle in her arms. “How are you?”

“Sore,” she replies truthfully, brushing her forefinger against her baby’s closed fist, “but the epidural was a lifesaver.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you tease, unaware that your words have Eddie’s heart skipping a beat at the idea of you bearing a little Munson. “Is it okay if I hold her?” You don’t want to intrude on the new mother’s bonding time, but your insides turn to mush when the baby opens her tiny lips and yawns. 

Viv carefully places the newborn in your arms, and you gingerly adjust to support her head. Eddie swears that you holding a baby, in that dress, wearing his jacket, is the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. “Did Jeff tell you her name?” Viv asks, stifling a yawn. When you and Eddie both shake your heads, she smiles and glances at her partner. 

He clears his throat, suddenly bashful. Eddie forces himself to tear his gaze from the way you smile and coo at the baby and look over at Jeff. “Her name is Nicolette,” he starts, “but that’s a big name for a little girl, so we figured we can call her Ettie, and she’ll kinda…share a nickname with you.”

Eddie’s eyes go wide, convinced he heard incorrectly. “You…I’m her namesake?”

“Mhm,” Jeff confirms, the grin never leaving his face. What neither you nor Eddie know is that they had had a different name picked out, and had fully intended on using it until the first time Jeff held their daughter. It filled him with a feeling of wholeness, of being complete, and it strangely had him thinking of his best friend. Without Eddie taking him under his wing, he might not even be here to experience this. 

It was only by chance that he had stumbled upon Hellfire Club during his freshman year. He was running from Billy Hargrove and his posse, who were determined to beat the hell out of him simply because they could, and had ducked into the drama room to protect himself. Eddie had taken one look at his face and immediately recognized the expression of fear and defeat from being incessantly bullied. “You know how to play Dungeons & Dragons?” he’d asked, and when Jeff had managed a nod, he’d pulled up a chair and motioned for him to sit down.

Being Eddie’s friend, being part of something, gave him a reason to keep going. To live. And in that instant, he vowed to teach his child to extend kindness toward any misfits who need a place to be themselves.

“What about Nicolette?” he’d asked Viv. “Ettie for short.”

You turn to Eddie now, continuing the steady rocking rhythm that keeps Baby Ettie calm. “What do you say, Mr. Namesake? Wanna hold her?”

There’s a brief flash of panic that floods through his veins; he hasn’t held a newborn since Harris. He’d always worried about dropping him or tripping and falling. Truth be told, he was terrified until his son could hold his own head up.

It’s similar, but not the same, he reminds himself, shuffling even closer to you so you can safely transition Ettie into his arms. She stirs slightly in her swaddle but doesn’t cry.

“Hey, little lady,” he says, a delicate smile dancing on his lips. “I’m your Uncle Eddie. The coolest uncle you’ll ever have, for the record.”

“Harris is gonna love her,” you add, heart swelling at the imagery of him cuddling up to his newest cousin.

“Babe?” Viv pipes up from the bed. “Can you grab me something to eat? ‘M starving.” 

“Yeah, of course.” Jeff turns to Eddie. “Come with me? I think Viv needs to feed Ettie, anyway.”

Viv extends her arms and Eddie begrudgingly hands the baby to her. Ettie’s so adorable and small, and it makes him yearn for the days when Harris was that little. Maybe not the sleepless nights or the lack of head control, but the scent of baby powder, the toothless smiles, the way he would fall asleep in Eddie’s arms to whatever song happened to be on the radio. Harris Munson might have been the only infant to be soothed by Twisted Sister. 

The two men make their way to the hospital cafeteria, sneakers squeaking along the freshly-waxed linoleum tiles.

“I, um, I’m really proud of the way you stepped up for Viv,” Eddie says, eyes trained on the floor. “You’re a great partner. I feel like I should be taking notes.”

Jeff laughs, shaking his head. “That's where my expertise ends. I have no idea how this whole fatherhood thing works.” 

“Wanna hear a secret?” Eddie leans in, shifting his weight onto one foot. He doesn’t wait for his friend’s response to divulge, “none of us do. We’re just…” he waves his hand aimlessly, “…figuring it out as we go.” And making plenty of mistakes along the way, he silently adds.

“I don’t know how you did this alone,” Jeff puffs out an incredulous breath. “I mean, I know you had Wayne’s help…” he trails off, not needing to further elaborate on the missing parent. 

“Yeah, me either, man. I’m just glad I’m not alone anymore.” 

Jeff stops walking, turning to face him. There’s the unmistakable look of pride that manages to make itself prominent despite his evident exhaustion as he says, “You really want this with her, don’t you?”

“Yeah, man,” Eddie chuckles. “It’s like, for the first time, I’m not just thinking about just me or just Harris. I’m thinking about us as a family.” The dinnertime conversations, the gentle ribbings, the tenderness that seamlessly weaves itself into vulnerable conversations. 

“She’s good for you,” Jeff agrees. “And you love her.”

“I mean, I—”

“That was a statement, not a question. You love her.”

And in a single breath, Eddie lets go of the fear he’s been clutching to like a life preserver. The one thing he hasn’t allowed himself to say aloud because it makes it so real, so fucking real.

“I love her.”

--

@kelsiegrin @lma1986 @munsonology @stuckontheceiling @avobabe87 @eddapwinchester @peachysink @browneyes8288 @jeremyspoke-inclasstoday

@breezybeesposts @wednesdaymunson @feltonswifesworld87 @take-everything-you-can @bebe07011 @81rain @dylanmunson @oscarisaacwhore @eddiesguitarskills @everheart12 @etherealglimmer @hollster88 @wh0re4life @siriuslysmoking

@bibieddiesgf @winchester-angel @starlitlakes @avalon-wolf @hazydespair @josephquinncore @daydreaminglisa @sidthedollface2 @eddiebaemunson @mandyjo8719 @daydreaming-mood @aol19 @corkadymu @starcourtnights

@rockstarmunsons @metalhead-succubus @boinkybarness @oohworldofpisces @costellation-hunter @toobsessedsstuff @meadow20 @lost-in-the-stars03 @aysheashea @josephquinnsfreckles @eddiemunsonslittlemetalhead

@chamomileh0ney @dream-a-little-nightmare @emma77645 @kurdtbean @sheneedsrocknroll92 @tlclick73 @lolly-in-a-strange-land @bakugouswh0r3

@strangerthingsstories5255 @adaydreamaway08 @itsalltaken @harmfulb1tch @mimischaos @averagemisfit03 @steddiegarbage @vigilanteshit @ellendemeyer152 @sierrahhh @hiscrimsonangel @mrsjellymunson @idkatee

@quentinswife @eddiesguitarskills @momowhoo @jasminelafleur @mmunson86 @mcueveryday @augustsgetawaycar @let-love-bleeds-red @inesven @tanyaherondale @theintimatewriter

[loganhowlettshousewife]

diversity december masterlist

logan howlett x reader

the idea of diversity december is to write fanfics for people like me who don't often see themselves represented. these don't necessarily need to be holiday related fics, or even winter related. requests are still open until december 1. i may update this masterlist and add more fics.

if any other writers want to participate i would absolutely adore that. even just one fanfic means a lot when you never see things written with you in mind.

latina reader (coming december 1): after the events of logan (2017), in a world where logan survives, he and laura move to a small town to start a new life. laura quickly becomes very attached to the librarian, and seeing you with his daughter makes logan fall hard.

autistic reader (coming december 3): a drabble about logan dealing with reader who gets overstimulated. also slightly a logan character study.

curvy reader (coming december 6): logan is obsessed with your thighs. he spends hours worshiping them. this is literally pure smut where he fucks reader's thighs.

black reader (coming december 9): you're a single mom and you're fine with that. but when your daughter makes a new friend, laura, and you're forced to spend more and more time with her father, you start to fall for his gruff demeanor and kind heart.

afro-latina reader (coming december 11): when you start working as a professor at the x-mansion, you give logan a reason to stay and spend more time there. friends to lovers.

genderfluid reader (coming december 13): you love decorating, you do it for every season and holiday. this time, you convince logan to help you decorate the mansion for winter.

bisexual reader (coming december 15): the worst wolverine comes from a universe very different from this one. a universe where things aren't as great for queer people. so naturally, he panics when you ask him if he has a crush on his roommate. ends in poolverine x reader.

autistic reader (coming december 18): there are days where eating is a struggle, where nothing tastes right and it becomes overwhelming to deal with. logan refuses to let you go to bed without food, so trial and error it is.

disabled reader (coming december 20): dealing with chronic pain is hard, especially as an x-men. but logan is always there to take care of you when you have a bad pain day.

desi reader (coming december 22): trying to teach logan how to cook ends with you on the table, his head between your legs.

latina reader (coming december 24): annoyed at the way laura always makes comments in spanish when she doesn't want him to understand, logan comes to you, asking you to teach him his daughter's native language.

jewish reader (coming december 26): with all the christmas celebrations and decor in the x-mansion, you decide to take it upon yourself to plan hanukkah festivities for the jewish children at the mansion.

jewish reader (coming december 30): as magneto's daughter, you often find yourself fighting the x-men. but it's one x-man in particular that keeps you coming back. you love the adrenaline of fighting and so does logan. but there are other ways to let off steam.

main taglist: @raeinyourdreams @meetmypointlessaddiction @chubbyhedgehog @yxtkiwiyxt @isepod @dis-plus-fanfic-reblog-writes

latina reader: @naggywaggy @mami-veracruz @spencerswh0r3

autistic reader: @thegothempress

curvy reader: @spencerswh0r3 @seasonofthenerd @thegothempress

black reader:

afro-latina reader:

genderfluid reader:

bisexual reader: @spencerswh0r3

disabled reader:

desi reader: @seasonofthenerd

jewish reader:

comment on this post to be added to the taglist or if you only want to be tagged in a specific fic, that's fine too.

[cowboylikehim]

You Missed My Heart. Finnick Odair

set in d13, r was at the capital after the quarter quell and doesn't remember finnick fully. requests open!!

You hug your knees, feeling your heart swim around in the deep blue, murky feeling in your chest. these days it feels more like drowning, the guilt and uncertainty acting as concrete boots, keeping you stuck to the hospital bed. You've found yourself thinking more with your heart these days, brain left in numbness after months at the capitol. It's a scary thing to rely on your intuition, to trust that your heart will remember what was beaten out of your brain. Survival has always been part intuition and part logic, a tightrope many victors learn to walk. This kind of intuition is new, less picking up of lies and body language and more learning not to outrun the sickening vulnerability building inside you.

He knocks before he comes in, gentle knocks on the door. The door's always open anyway, the doctors don't let you close it all the way, but the light introduction is always welcomed. You enjoy the way the knocks pull your gaze to the door, seeing the look in his eyes. Finnick always smiles gently, asking if he can come in. You say yes, the vulnerable feeling filling up your chest slowly.

He knocks before he comes in, smiling at the way you immediately look up at him. The first few weeks he knocked to give you a warning of his presence. He would frown slightly at the panicked look on your face, how you'd curl in on yourself, trying to make yourself take up as little space as possible. Throughout time you'd settled more, no longer feeling that surge of panic but he still knocked. He loved the way your eyes soften once you see him, if only for a second. How the corners of your mouth would turn up, shoulders lowering once he knocked. He knocks before he comes in, smiling warmly at the small glimpses he catches of who you were before.

"Hey, sweetheart." He waits by the doorway. "Can I come in?"

You nod, turning your body to face him. You feel your heart ache with a feeling you know well but can't name. You wonder often if you felt this way before the Capitol sunk its teeth into you, you wonder if you gave it a name, you wonder if it was a welcomed feeling then. You've become close to this feeling throughout your recovery at District 13. It's part adrenaline and excitement, maybe at one point described as butterflies in your stomach. Now it's a sense of unknown familiarity reeking of vulnerability that feels more like a cliff, wondering if you'll take a step too far.

He walks in slowly, sitting down on the edge of the bed, far enough to give you lots of space but close enough that you can smell the slight scent of gunpowder on him. You don't know why but the smell makes you feel like you've lost something. You frown slightly, wondering what he smelled like before, and why now it makes your chest ache.

You look over his face with your eyes, scanning between his jawline, his eyes, and his nose hoping that if you memorized everything about him it'd spark something in you. It only makes the sickening flutter in your chest grow, a terrifying feeling that makes you want to scoot closer to him and hide at the same time. "Hi. It's nice to see you."

He smiles, tracing over the faded schedule written on his arm, you notice the section with your name far more faded than the rest. "It's good to see you too. I missed you."

He keeps his distance, moving his thumb back and forth over his arm. You're not too sure you want him to. "I missed you too, I think."

"You think?" He chuckles lightly, lightheartedly teasing. The tone feels like a hometown.

"Yeah. At least, my heart missed you." You look down at your hands, softly picking at the cuticles. You shake your head as you speak, "I don't remember much but I feel it, I guess, if that makes sense."

He hums, "It makes sense. My heart missed you, too. What does it feel like?"

You take a shakey breath, the intense and murky uncertainty creeps up in your throat. "Weird." He laughs at that. "Like I'm forgetting something I shouldn't have, which I guess I am. You feel right, familiar. I just- I like you. It's just scary not remembering why. But I don't want you to go away."

He gently takes your hand, stopping you from continuing to pick at your cuticles. His thumb is stained lightly with black ink from the writing on his arm. The pain in your chest feels a little more like welcomed lovesickness. "M' not gonna go away if you don't want me to. You're doing so good."

You smile at the words before a crease appears on your forehead. "I feel guilty sometimes. I can tell I loved you a lot. It hurts my heart, in a good way, I think. I know you love me. I just wish I could give you more than this."

He breathes deep, thumb still moving back and forth over the back of your hand. He takes a moment before speaking. "This is more than enough. You are always more than enough. You were my best friend before you were anything else, sweetheart."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

You squeeze his hand softly. It's barely noticeable. He's unsure if you even meant to but his face breaks out into a wide grin. You spend the rest of the allowed time talking about your days. The black ink from his thumb will end up on your hand as he continues his motions back and forth. Eventually, he gives your hand one last squeeze before standing up to leave.

"Finnick?"

"Yeah?" He turns to you.

"See you tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow, angel." He gazes at you with a look in his eyes that makes you feel warm. The smudge of black ink shines in the cold lighting of the room, something you'll continue to trace occasionally until he knocks again tomorrow.

[37sommz]

000.⠀⠀NOW PLAYING: only angel [6.7k, smut]. ✼. view:⠀masterlist⠀⸻⠀join the taglist⠀⸻⠀request. ✼. synopsis:⠀michaela's all alone after her first podium. ✼. notes:⠀part two to the dts episode! did i take loose inspiration from hamilton's "say no to this"? yes. did this end up being way way way too long? yes. ✼. warnings:⠀18+, mdni, general language warnings, explicit sexual content, pwp, cheating, unprotected sex, jenson has a potty mouth, cheating!

✼.⠀SEPTEMBER 13, 2020 — tuscany, italy

Michaela stepped out of the shower, the warm water washing away the leftover champagne that stuck to her as if a second skin. Her skin glowed with the fading adrenaline of the day's exertions, the faint memory of the history made still ringing in her ears. As she toweled off, the sound of the distant Tuscan celebrations seeped into her luxurious hotel suite.

The air carried the glorious scent of victory, mingled with the faint aroma of leather and gasoline that clung to her like a signature perfume. She wrapped the delicate towel around her athletic figure, her muscles still humming from the exhilaration of the podium finish.

Her eyes scanned the room she had called home for the last week, taking in the plush, soft furnishings, the walls adorned with elegant artwork, the balcony beckoning with a breathtaking view of the vineyards the hotel boasted as being the source of their rich wine. Yet, amidst the opulence in celebration, there was a hint of loneliness.

Olivier had called her to explain his reasons for not showing up for the race weekend. She honestly didn't remember what excuse he used this time, leaving her to navigate the after-party alone. Though a nagging feeling gnawing at her loyalty reminded her of the difficulties the long-distance presented for the two of them, she traded the feeling in favor of the awaiting festivities just downstairs. She sighed, her breath misting the mirror as she readied herself for the evening ahead.

The bar was a buzz of activity, a cocktail of laughter and clinking glasses. Each face was a blur of familiarity and she felt a strange sense of detachment, as if she was watching the celebrations as a third party. The weight of the podium trophy held heavy on her heart as she found herself oddly alone. She had dreamt of this moment, but somehow the reality was bittersweet without so much as a family member, or even Olivier himself, beside her to share in the triumph.

She was more than aware Alex and Lando were off and away, likely already inebriated beyond recognition as she was intentionally late to her own after-party. Her eyes searched the room, hoping to find their friendly faces amidst the wave of strangers.

Unable to find their familiar eyes, a piercing blue-eyed gaze cut through the crowd like a knife to find hers. Jenson Button, lounged in the corner, a whiskey in hand, his eyes locked on hers. Michaela had been unaware the Brit had even been in Tuscany at all. Her mind scrambled to find an inkling of recognition of his presence at the Grand Prix but was left unable to as her mind slowly drew her attention back to the blonde former champion.

As if possessed by his gentle light, her feet carried her to the bar. A few bodies separated them as she claimed a place alongside the black and gold accented bar. Murmurs of congratulations from people she did not quite recognize were received on gracious ears and short exclamations of gratitude. Her impatience is tangible as her eyes flit back to Jenson's awaiting invitation. Unable to tear herself away from the continuous pour of well wishes and slurred speculations about that elusive Ferrari contract.

With a knowing smile, Jenson approached her, his move casual yet flooded with confidence. He leaned against the bar next to her, "Mind if I buy you a drink, Miss Sommers?" The way he spoke her name, with that hint of a smile in his voice, sent a thrill down her spine. She hadn't seen him this close since their brief interactions during her Formula 2 days nearly two years ago, and she had to admit—under the dimmed lobby lights—the years had treated him well. His eyes twinkled with a mischief that seemed to have only grown with age from his iconic days with Brawn.

"Mr. Button," she replied, her voice a soft purr, the slight buzz she carried with her from the shot of tequila Lando had convinced her to take earlier providing a humming tease to her accent. "I could never turn down a free drink."

The bartender, a young man with a wide-eyed smile in awe of the surrounding wealth, nodded at Jenson before crafting an elegant cocktail. The shaker rattled with ice against glass, a mixture of mint and lime swirling before Michaela's eyes. Jenson's own never left hers as he took the drink from the bartender, passing it to her with a nod.

"To your podium," he said, his voice smooth and direct like the whiskey in his own glass.

Michaela took the offered cocktail as a tremble of anticipation ripped through her spine. "Thank you," she whispered.

Her voice went weak as their fingertips brushing against each other's, sending a spark of excitement through her body. She took a sip, the cool cocktail a welcome contrast to the heat rising within her. She watched him over the rim of her glass, his eyes drinking in her presence. The touch of their fingers lingered in the air, unspoken words hanging like a promise between them.

"How have you been?" Jenson asked, his voice a low rumble that seemed to resonate through the marble floor and up her exposed legs. "I feel like I haven't really seen you this close since..." His words trail off as he catches sight of the silver 'O' that gleamed against her brown skin in dip between her clavicle bones.

Michaela took a deep breath, her heart racing as she felt his gaze linger on the necklace that Olivier had given her. It was a simple token of love, a reminder of the life she had waiting for her outside of the racing world. But, at this moment, it felt like a reminder of the invisible string tightening around her neck. She set the cocktail down, the chilled glass leaving a wet ring on the bar. "I've been busy," she replied, a chuckle leaving her lips in a whisper only heard between the two of them.

"Busy making history and such?" Jenson released a chuckle of his own. Michaela nodded softly, her eyes leaving his for the first time since he approached the Australian. Unable to keep her eyes away from his figure for too long, they lifted back up to his baby blues. The smile lines framed his face as if the borders of a portrait.

"It's quite the life to live, isn't it?" she said, her voice filled with a mix of exhaustion and excitement. The chuckles grew into laughter between them, the sound echoing through the bar as they reminisced about their early days in the sport, exchanging stories of the grueling training and the relentless pursuit of just one less millisecond. The whiskey in Jenson's glass swirled in rhythm with their conversation, the golden liquid reflecting the flickering candlelight adorning the sides of the bar like a liquid fire. A fire that mimicked the one filling her to the brim with a tensioned heat.

Michaela felt a strange, overwhelming comfort in Jenson's presence, one that was oddly familiar yet thrillingly new. His stories of his own glory days painted a picture of a man who had been where she was, a man who understood the highs and lows of the world she loved so dearly but could hurt her so deeply. A man who understood things Olivier could never dream of understanding.

His words danced around the topic of her personal life, hinting without asking, and she found herself leaning closer, eager to escape the shadow of Olivier's absence.

"You know," Jensen said, his eyes darkening slightly as they searched hers, "Sometimes you need to enjoy the moment, without the noise of everyone else around you." His words brushed against her ear as he leaned down towards her as if selecting his words for her ears alone.

Michaela's heart skipped a beat. The warmth of his breath against her ear sent another shiver of want and anticipation down her spine. "All alone?" she quizzed, her voice a careful whisper. If they remembered they were in a public setting, it didn't show. The curtain of attention surrounding them seemed to fade away as Jenson's fingers reached out to brush gently against Michaela's silver adorned wrist.

"I've got a room upstairs," he offered, his voice a seductive invitation that seemed to dance on the very edge of propriety and good behavior. "It's quieter. We can...talk."

Michaela can barely bring herself to laugh at the mischievous glimmer in his eyes in extension of the invitation. "Talk?" Is all she can muster before taking in a deep breath that visibly raises and lowers her chest.

Their eyes lock in an answer as the silence stretches out between them, charged with the weight of their unspoken desires. The room seems to hold its breath, the laughter and chatter of the celebrations fading away into a very distant hum.

Michaela's hand lingers on her cocktail, her fingertips leaving their prints on the glass. She considers his proposal, the promise of a private, intimate space calling to her in a way that she hadn't anticipated being so keen to accept. The hotel room upstairs, a sanctuary from the prying eyes of her colleagues, various C-listers, and the sponsors that adorn the sides of their carbon fiber machines. The suffocating weight of her own thoughts leaves her with little breath to gasp. With Olivier so far away, the choice—so close to her—feels almost irresistible.

Jenson's hand moved from its place atop the bar to Michaela's waist. His touch was feather-light as it brushed over the material of her satin mini-dress. The action is casual as if he had no worry about the prying eyes that Michaela tended to draw over to her considering her position in the sport. Tonight of all nights was a night she should have been on her best behavior. She should have been circling the room, schmoozing with the donors, and sharing glasses of champagne with her much drunker rivals. Instead, she was held captive to Jenson's wiles. The heat of his gaze as it swept over her figure drew a heat into her face.

Suddenly she was grateful for the low lighting of the crowded hotel lobby.

Then, with a nod of her head, she set her cocktail down and allowed him to lead her away from the thrumming bar. His hand slipped to the small of her back, a gesture that felt far too intimate for the public atmosphere of the after-party dedicated to her success. The warmth of his palm sizzled through the too-thin fabric of her black dress and the coolness of the air-conditioned lobby did little to dissipate the heat sizzling between the two drivers.

The elevator ride to his suite was an eternity, the air thick with unspoken desire. The gentle rock of their movements as they ascended in the elevator seemed to mirror the tumultuous waves crashing within her. Her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, a tornado of 'what if' and 'should I' that she couldn't quite contain.

As if he sensed the uneasiness that permeated through the younger woman, Jenson's hands grasped her body, pulling her flush against his solid physicality. Releasing her for a split moment, his steady hands reached for her lowered chin. Pulling her attention back onto him, there was no need for words to be exchanged in the quiet elevator. Within another split second, his lips were on hers in a heated dance.

Michaela's eyes fluttered shut as she felt her knees buckle into his embrace. Her hands found his shirt, gripping tightly as if it were the only thing keeping her from falling into the abyss of temptation that was Jenson Button. The action only brought him closer to her, pushing her infinitely closer to danger. His kiss was everything she hadn't known she craved: firm, confident, and hungry for more, more, more. It was a stark contrast to Olivier's smooth pecks, which had grown routine with time.

Desperate to feel impossibly closer, Michaela's fingers tangled in his dirty blonde locks. Wisps of her white manicured nails interlocked within his curls as her head fell back against the elevator walls with a moan. His lips attached themselves to the edge of her jaw, leaving sloppy kisses down the column of her neck. His right hand raised to cup one of her breasts, drawing another gasp of his name from her lips raw from the hungry kisses they shared. With a growl, Jenson grasped the back of her thighs, squeezing with an urgency unfamiliar to Michaela. Another moan and their lips were back together, Jenson's hands wandering along her backside squeezing occasionally before chuckling at her surprised whines and whispers.

When the elevator chimed, signaling their arrival, they broke apart, unwilling and breathless. The corridor was a blur as Jensen guided her to his suite, his hand never leaving her lower back as if she were a piece of art he was afraid to smudge. As they finally reached his door, Jenson maneuvered the smaller woman to stand in front of him. One hand fumbled for his key card while the other dipped underneath the skirt of her dress, gently playing with the hem of her lace panties. Michaela's hands reached up behind her, embedding themselves in Jenson's golden salted locks, tugging against them whenever his fingers swept against her heated skin.

"Jens," She gasped with a moan as a finger slipped into her underwear to toy at her folds. Her eyes rolled back as the anticipation of his touch crashed over her like a wave.

His response was a sultry, "I know", that makes her lose all sense of direction.

"If you don't get this door open..." She began to threaten. The words die on her lips as he presses his cock against her backside, the force pushing her against the locked door.

"Fuck..." She drawled out with another desperate moan, her hands falling to rest in front of her, steadying herself after the sudden movement.

"If I don't get this door open, I'll fuck you right here against this door for everyone to see." Jenson offered with a threat of his own. Feeling her arousal as it seeped through the delicate lace was enough to help him find the strength to wrestle the door open finally.

The door closed with a gentle click behind them, and suddenly, the world outside was gone. The noises of the hotel were swallowed up by the thick carpet beneath her heels. The weight of their encounter grew heavier in the quiet, luxurious room all the way up on the fifteenth floor.

Michaela looked around the suite, her eyes wide with a mix of awe and anticipation. The grandeur of the space was lost on her as Jensen's hand found hers, leading her through the dark space. The lights of the city center below them flooded into the room with a romantic light. Her heart raced, her thoughts racing faster than the car she'd driven onto podium position earlier that day—or the day before—she wasn't sure she could think clearly with the haze of lust lingering over her. The room was bathed in a soft, golden glow that reflected off the polished surfaces, giving the space a warm, inviting feel. The king-sized bed at the center was untouched, the sheets a crisp white, a stark contrast to the dirty thoughts swirling between them.

Jenson's hand slid around her waist, his thumb tracing the line of her hipbone as they approached the edge of the crisp bed. He pushed her gently, and she fell backward, the mattress enveloping her in a cloud of lust. He stood over her, his body a shadow in the dim light, his eyes burning into her wide-eyed soul. The warmth of his hands as they slid up her legs sent a delicious shiver through her body, drawing an exhale out of her that brought a smirk to his face. The way he looked at her, like she was the only thing in the world that mattered, made her feel powerful, desired—like she could conquer any race he put her in.

He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her inner thigh. The tender touch sent waves of heat through her body, pooling at her core. She squirmed beneath him, eager and begging for more, but he took his sweet time.

"Patience, my love." He hummed against her skin. A longing whine left her lips before she could process the sensation he sent wracking through her.

His teeth grazed her sensitive skin, the light pressure making her arch up into his touch. Her hands found his hair again, tugging him closer, urging him on. His tongue followed the path his hand had laid, circling the edge of her panties before slipping them off.

Michaela's breath caught in her throat as she watched him spread her legs, his eyes never leaving hers. She felt vulnerable and exposed in the best way possible, as if she were laying bare not just her body but her soul. His mouth was a warm promise against her flesh, the contrast of his soft tongue against her sensitive skin driving her wild. She could feel her arousal growing, coating his lips as he kissed and licked at her.

"God," He groaned against her. The vibrations of his words sent shocks through her as her head pressed back deeper into the lush pillows beneath her. "You taste so good for me." Lost in a daze of need, Michaela could barely find the words to respond to his praise.

The first touch of his tongue to her clit was electric, sending a jolt through her that made her back arch off the bed. Her hands tightened in his hair, urging him to continue, as she let out a guttural moan. Still without words to respond to him, Jenson took his sweet time, teasing her mercilessly with his mouth, exploring every inch of her until she was panting and begging for more.

The tension grew unbearable, her body tightening like a coil ready to snap. "Stay still for me." He muttered between kisses to her most sensitive parts. "Wanna make you feel good. Gonna make you feel real good." The whispers exchanged between their ears only served to increase the intimacy of the situation.

As Jenson's hips pressed into the bed to relieve the stiffness of his straining cock, Michaela's eyes opened to meet his staring back up at her from between her open legs.

"Fuck—" She sobbed at the sight.

"Hmm, ah!" She cried as his thumb reached out to draw circles into the sensitive bundle of nerves.

"Yeah?" He drew out, pulling her legs impossibly wider as they threatened to close around his head.

Michaela still couldn't find the words to respond, her body lost in the intensity of sensations he brought as he worked her over. The strokes of his tongue grew faster, harder, each one bringing her closer to the edge. Her nails dug into his scalp, her body writhing under his seasoned touch. The room filled with the sounds of her gasps and moans, a sweet soundtrack that grew louder as she neared climax.

As her legs began to shake, Michaela released a high pitched moan, one that instantly drew a groan out of Jenson in shock her voice could sound that whiny, that desperate, for him.

"Shit! I'm gonna—" Her words cut off once more as the trembles ripping through her signaled she was close to her first orgasm. "Please don't stop." She hummed, almost babbling nonsense as Jenson worked through the thread that threatened to snap inside the pit of her belly.

He hummed from between her legs, "That's it, love." His head raised from its position as his fingers replaced his lips. Fucking into her walls at a pace that leaves her unable to form any kind of discernable sentence.

Her eyes rolled back in her head, and her teeth sank into her bottom lip as she stifled a scream. The orgasm ripped through her like a tornado, leaving her body trembling with the aftershocks of pleasure. He watched her, his eyes hooded with desire as he stroked her through it, his hand moving almost lazily.

"Good girl," He whispered out into the night. As his head dipped down at the feeling of a sudden chill he realizes Michaela's wetness has dripped down over his fingers. A gentle, "Fuck, Michaela, baby, you're dripping all over me."

With a laugh, Michaela comes down from her high suddenly shy in the older man's arms.

"It's just my way of complimenting you." She giggled before running a manicured hand through her tousled dyed locks.

Her face flushed in half embarrassment and half lust as she pushed herself up onto her elbows to watch Jenson lift his arousal coated fingers to his lips. He kept a hold over her attention as he sucked her essence from his fingers before rising from his spot on the bed to stand on his feet.

"Think you can do it again on my cock?" He mused with a raised eyebrow. With a playful roll of her eyes, Michaela nodded, unable to respond verbally—that seemed to be a recurring theme.

Catching her completely off guard with a squeal, Jenson pulled her by her bare legs to the edge of the bed. Stood in between her wide legs, he begins to work at the buttons of his pressed dress shirt. At the sight of the former champion undressing, Michaela finds the strength to rise to her feet. The four inches Jenson has over her are just enough for her hands to bat his away to undo the buttons herself.

Her careful fingers make quick work of the shirt, pushing it off his shoulders and revealing the chiseled abs and the dusting of hair that trails from his chest down to the waistline of his trousers. She runs her hand over his stomach, feeling the muscles beneath her touch. His eyes lock onto hers, and she sees that familiar hunger back in his gaze, the same hunger that she feels return deep within her core.

"I'm all yours, superstar." He whispers into her ear as his head dips to attach his lips to the length of her neck. "Take me however you want. Just wanna celebrate you for being so good." 

His words coupled with his actions sent another wave of arousal crashing over the Alfa Romeo driver. 

"So talented." He adds, accenting the compliment with a kiss that sweeps Michaela away from whatever thoughts she had left in her distracted head.

Her hands fumble with the buckle of his belt, a task she hadn't done in what feels like an eternity. The clink of the metal echoes around the room as it hits the carpeted floor. A thrill runs through her as she feels his hard cock pressing against her stomach through the fabric of his boxers. Her eyes never leave his as she takes the fabric in her hands and pulls it down, freeing him to stand tall before her.

Michaela's breath hitches in her throat at the sight of him. Jensen is a beautiful man, sculpted by the years of rigorous physical training and his unmistakable British charm. Her eyes take in the full length of him, a silent appreciation before she takes him in one of her hands.

"You're so pretty," She murmured out to him as he released a hiss in reaction to the soft touch to his stiff length.

"Me or my cock?" He spoke mirthfully as he relished in the feeling of one of her hands on his sensitive muscle and the other finding a familiar place in his tousled graying hair.

"Both." Michaela responded with the most decisiveness in her voice since they had arrived upstairs. They share another laugh before Jenson moans out loud for the first time all night.

With a flutter of kisses to the length of his strong, clenched jaw, Michaela took in the sight of him all pliant in her grasp. The man in front of her was straight out of a fantasy. Never in all her years of pining over the man did she ever envision herself in his position. Blissed out of her mind from his fingers and drawing him to the edge of orgasm.

Jenson's hands found the zipper of her dress, pulling it down her body with a gentle force. As she watched him, her chest rose and fell with every shallow breath as the fabric fell away, exposing her naked body to the coolness of the room. Her hand stilled on his cock as he gathered her straightened hair into a makeshift ponytail. With a forceful yank, he pressed her naked body against his, slipping his tongue into her mouth as it fell open with a moan.

The light kisses grew into a trail of heat down her collarbone and over the swell of her breasts. His tongue flicked over one of her nipples, sending a shiver down her spine as it hardened to a tight peak. A manicured hand reached down to cup at one of his heavy balls, a mixture of their moans mingling into a dance in the heavy air.

Michaela took the opportunity to guide him backward until he laid on the edge of the bed. She dropped to her knees on either side of his hips, her body hovering over his. Her eyes never left his as she took his length into her grasp. The feel of him pressing into her soaked cunt was intoxicating, the sound of his labored breathing music to her ears.

With a gentle squeeze of his base, she began to slide down his cock. The feeling of him stretching her was nothing short of glorious, the burn of his size between her thighs a delicious punishment for the temptations she had been resisting from the moment his eyes locked on hers downstairs in the bar. With a whiny groan, she took him in inch by inch, her eyes fluttering closed in ecstasy.

"That's it, baby." He encouraged her as she took him in. His strong hands grasped at the skin of her waist, gently providing an aid to guide her down, filling her to the brim. As she bottomed out, they both released a share of breath they had both held in.

Michaela began to rock her hips in a steady swirl that grew more desperate with every second. Jenson's eyes rolled back in his head, his moans growing louder as she worked herself over him. The sound of his pleasure drew sounds of her own as she began to bounce over him gently. One of his hands drift down to palm at her firm ass, squeezing at the skin before catching her completely off guard with a spank to the perky muscle. Her abs contract as a loud moan rips through her throat to goad her on to bounce faster in pursuit of a shared high.

Their rhythm grew to match the beating of their hearts—fast and erratic. The bed squeaked beneath them, the headboard slamming against the wall in a pattern that surely could be heard outside the suite. But neither of them cared. The only thing that mattered was the view of each other, blissed out, horny, and chasing the high that seemed to be within their fingertips.

"I'm so close, baby." Jenson grunts, his head falling back against the pillows as his hands squeeze at Michaela's curves. "Come for me, yeah? Be a good fucking girl and come all over me." His words only serve to push Michaela further to the brink of total insanity, the only thing relevant in her mind is the pursuit of pleasure.

"Wanna be good for you," She whined, "Need to come for you." Jenson hummed in appreciation as a hand reached between their bodies to toy with her overstimulated clit.

Michaela's eyes rolled back, her mouth falling open as she began to feel the beginnings of another earth-shattering orgasm. She threw her head back, her hair falling over her shoulders, and her moans grew louder with every thrust.

Jenson's words of encouragement did little to quiet the loud moans that escaped Michaela's mouth. Her hips stuttered above his as she ground down into him before the current of her orgasm ripped through her totally.

"Jens—Jens—Oh my fucking god, Jens—" She stuttered, her voice growing higher pitched with every passing second. Her nails dug into the skin of his chest, leaving red marks that stood out against his tanned skin.

With one final, powerful thrust, Jenson felt himself let go. His cock twitched inside her, filling her up with ropes of his warm, thick cum. The feeling of her pussy tightening around him as she came was more than he could handle. He groaned her name into the darkness, his eyes rolling back as his hips jerked upward involuntarily. Michaela's thighs held him hostage as she continued to whine out into the dark, completely uninhibited by the warm rush of her orgasm as it coursed through her.

Her walls tightened around him as she milked him for every drop of his cum. The warmth of his release inside her only heightened her own pleasure as it sent aftershocks through her body. She collapsed onto him, her breasts pressed against his chest as she struggled to catch her breath. His arms wrapped around her, holding her tightly as their hearts raced together. He murmured faint words of appreciation into her ear as his palms pressed into her sweaty back, massaging the knots from the strain of her two orgasms.

Their bodies remained intertwined for several moments, basking in the afterglow. The room was silent except for their heavy breaths and the occasional twitch of his cock inside her. The smell of sex filled the air, thick and potent, a stark contrast to the prior freshness of the untouched hotel suite.

Michaela leaned her forehead against Jenson's neck, feeling the pulse of his heart beneath her skin. "I can't believe that just happened." She whispered, her voice still strained from the exertion.

Jenson could only laugh in response, his hand still traced patterns over her brown skin. "I heard you had a major crush on me back in the day. I figured I'd test the waters, see if that crush still held up." When he received a scoff in return as Michaela slowly freed herself from his hold to lay to his side, Jenson laughed again.

"I'm serious!"

"Don't flatter yourself too much, Button," She grinned up at him. "I just wanted to thank you for the drink. You know, properly."

Jenson's eyes sparkled with mischief as he leaned down to kiss her forehead. "You're welcome, Sommers. Anytime you need celebrating, you know where to find me."

Michaela couldn't help but laugh, the sound light and airy. "I'll keep that in mind." She rolled onto her side to observe the outline of his features. The warmth of his body left a ghostly imprint on the cooling sheets. The silence that followed was filled with a new kind of tension, one that was more comfortable, more intimate than the frantic passion that had brought them to this moment.

Jenson's fingers trailed lazily over her bare shoulder, sending shivers down her spine. "So, what's next for you?" He asked, breaking the quiet.

Michaela took a deep breath, trying to steady her racing heart. "The Russian Grand Prix, in two weeks." She said, her voice still a little breathless. "I need to keep this momentum going, prove I'm not just a one-hit wonder."

Jenson nodded, his hand still playing with the sensitive skin of her shoulder. "And what about the boyfriend?" He asked, his voice a gentle caress despite the panic that sets into her body.

Michaela swallowed hard, the mention of Olivier bringing a sharpness to the air. She couldn't hide the shock she felt when she realized that Jenson knew more about her than she had previously thought. "What about him?" She asked, trying to keep the tremble out of her voice.

Jenson leaned in, his mouth grazing her ear as he whispered, "Is he going to be okay with this?" He didn't miss the way her body stiffened at the question, the way her breath hitched. "I know you're an adult, love, but I want to make sure you're not going to get hurt."

Michaela rolled onto her back, looking up at the ceiling, her chest still heaving from their exertion. She bit her lip, thinking for a moment before speaking. "It's complicated." She finally said. "But I can handle it."

Jenson studied her for a moment before nodding his head. "I know you can." He leaned in to kiss her cheek before sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "But remember, if you ever need anything—anything at all—I'm here for you."

Michaela felt a pang of something she couldn't quite identify. Gratitude? Lust? The aftermath of their encounter had left her feeling more than a little vulnerable. She watched him as he walked naked across the suite to grab a bottle of water from the minibar. The moonlight played over the muscles of his back, highlighting the scars from years of racing.

"Thanks, Jenson." She murmured, taking the bottle from his outstretched hand. "For everything."

He settled back onto the bed beside her, his cock still half-hard from their encounter just moments before. "Don't worry about me." He took a swig from the bottle before passing it back to her. "You deserve to be celebrated."

Michaela took a sip, the cool water soothing her parched throat. She couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt at the thought of Olivier so far away doing God knows what instead of being at her side. "What about you?" She asked, changing the subject. "What's next for you?"

Jenson took another gulp from the bottle before setting it aside. "Well, I'm technically retired from racing now," he said with a shrug. "But I've got plenty of things to keep me busy. Commentary, appearances, the occasional Le Mans race. It's a calmer life." His eyes searched hers, a silent question hanging in the air.

Michaela nodded, understanding the unspoken inquiry. "Yeah, I can imagine. Must be a big change after being in the thick of it for so long." As Jenson considered his response, he drew the Alfa Romeo driver into his body. With her head rested upon his broad chest, he pulled one of her thighs to rest over his. Then, hand found hers, threading their fingers together.

"It is, but I don't miss the pressure. It's nice to be able to enjoy the sport without the weight of the world on my shoulders."

Michaela nodded, her mind racing with questions about his life outside of Formula 1. "What's it like? Watching from the sidelines?"

Jenson's thumb traced circles over the back of her hand, the gesture brought an unfamiliar comfort to her conscience. "It's different, sure," he said, his eyes drifting to the floor-to-ceiling windows that showcased the moonlit Tuscan landscape. "But I've had my time in the spotlight. Now, I get to enjoy the sport in a new way."

Michaela turned to face him, propping herself up on her elbow. "Do you ever miss it?" She asked, curiosity lacing her voice.

Jenson looked at her, the corner of his mouth tilting upward in a small smile. "Every now and then," he admitted. "But I've had my time in the sun. Now, I get to see the next generation take over and make their own history." His eyes searched hers, a hint of admiration sparkling in his gaze. "And you, my darling, are going to be a big part of that history."

Michaela felt a blush creep up her face at his words, her heart swelled with a mix of pride and bashfulness. She knew she had more than enough talent, but the fear of not living up to the hype of being the first was always present. "Thanks," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

"You're welcome," he replied, his own voice a little hoarse from their earlier passion. He leaned over to kiss her forehead gently. The heat in Michaela's cheeks only continued to warm. "But it's not just my opinion. You're genuinely brilliant behind the wheel. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone drive with the precision you have."

The truth in his words washed over her, filling her with a warmth that had nothing to do with the post-orgasm glow. "Thank you," she whispered, her eyes shimmering with emotion. "That means a lot coming from you."

Jenson's smile grew, his eyes tender as they searched hers. "You know, I always had a soft spot for you, even when you were tearing it up in F2 against Leclerc." He leaned in closer, his breath warm against her cheek. "You've got a fire in you, Mick. Don't ever let anyone dull it. Not even that idiot you call a boyfriend."

Michaela felt the weight of his words, a strange mix of comfort and accusation that sent a shiver down her spine. "You don't know him," she murmured defensively, even though she knew he was right.

"Maybe not," Jenson conceded lowly, "But he should be here with you. I know what it's like to love this sport. And if he doesn't support you, if he doesn't understand what you're fighting for, then he's not the one for you."

Michaela remained silent, his words echoing through the quiet hotel room. The cool breeze from the open window blew with the curtains, the only sound aside from their measured breathing. The truth in his statement stung, but she couldn't deny the truth in his support, the way his arms felt around her, and the comfort in his voice. She knew that Olivier had his own ambitions, his own disappointments with his racing career to work through, but they were starting to feel like they were in different worlds.

Taking a deep breath, she let out a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of her thoughts. "I know," she murmured, her eyes drifting back to the ceiling. "But it's complicated."

A moment of silence enveloped the two lovers before Michaela's eyes drifted back to see Jenson's eyes already focused on her face. Pushing aside her shyness as she offered a hummed joke, "He's French. Everything's complicated with them."

Jenson's chuckle rumbled in his chest, sending a thrill through her as she felt his hand caress her bare side. "Well, you're a woman in Formula 1. I'd say you know a thing or two about complicated." His hand grew bolder, stroking her hip, pulling her closer.

Michaela couldn't help but smile at his words, feeling a sense of calm with him that she hadn't felt with anyone else. "You're not wrong," she said, her voice a little shaky.

Jenson leaned over, kissing her gently on the lips, the taste of her own slick still lingering on his mouth. "If you need anything, you know where to find me," he whispered as his thumb brushed against her tanned cheek.

Michaela nodded, her eyes fluttering closed as she savored the touch. She knew that she was playing with fire, but the warmth of his embrace felt too good to resist. "What happens next?" she asked, her voice a soft whisper against the stillness of the night.

Jenson leaned back, his eyes never leaving hers. "Whatever you want, my love," he replied, his voice a gentle caress. "Whatever you want."

Michaela felt a thrill run through her at his words. Her hand trailed down his chest, playing with the patch of hair that grew from his navel to his pelvis. "I want you," she murmured, the words coming out with surprising ease.

Jenson's eyes darkened with desire, and he rolled her onto her back, positioning himself between her legs. He took his time, kissing her neck and her collarbone, his teeth lightly grazing her skin. His cock was already on the way to being hard again, a testament to his endurance. "I'm all yours," he breathed against her ear, his hands cupping her face as he stared into her eyes.

✼. taglist:⠀

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[shixcherie]

King, Queen & The Rose | Choi San & Park Seonghwa ☆

~ ~ call me chérie ☆

☆ Navigation | Kinktober List

☆ Day 13 : Caught in the act

↬ [ Synopsis ] : In the adrenaline-fueled realm of Formula 1, you finds herself drawn to the mysterious "The Rose" despite having your boyfriend San. A steamy night sparks brings confessions, undeniable chemistry and chaos. Will you, the Queen choose your King or the Rose ? Or Both ?

☆ Word Count : 2.9k ☆ Genre : Smut, Some plot, Formula 1 Racer Au. ☆ Pairing : F1 Racer Bf! San x F1 Academy student Gf! F.Reader x F1 Racer! Bestfreind Seonghwa

WARNINGS : Pure smut (18+), a bit of plot, you and San are switch!.Soft! Dom Seonghwa praise, dirty talk, making out, neck kisses, pet names (kitten, baby), stalker-ish behaviour “The Rose”, exhibitionism, mild angst, jealousy, power play, slight voyeurism, unresolved tension.

☆☆☆ NOTE : Day 13 dropping right at ya!. A little long cause I definitely got carried away but hope you enjoy this piece ma chéries.

And before you ask, Second part is already in works and be dropping real soon. “The Rose Blooms” is what it will be called.

A small smile crept onto your face as you unboxed yet another gift from "The Rose." For the past two years, this mysterious admirer had been sending you flowers, plushies, gifts, and more. At first, you were skeptical about receiving presents from a stranger, but the notes they sent along with the gifts carried so much warmth that they chased away any doubts you had about this person being some kind of creep.

Being in the F1 academy, training relentlessly to become a Formula 1 racer, and staying away from your family for the past three years had definitely taken a toll on your mind. Only two people could help you forget the stresses of it all. One was San, Ferrari’s number one F1 racer, a total heartthrob and your boyfriend.

The other was this person, The Rose. You had no idea who they were, but the way they knew everything you liked, the way they warmed your heart, was oddly familiar.

San knew about The Rose sending you stuff and somehow….didn’t seem to mind ?

But why did The Rose remind you of him? Him…..your childhood friend Seonghwa, who also happened to be San’s other half on the track. Another F1 racer for Ferrari who compliemented San’s raw passion with his steady and meticulous driving making them a force to be recokoned with on the tracks.

The Rose could not be Seonghwa, right ? Right!

—

The crowd erupted into chaotic cheers as San crossed the finish line, securing victory in one of the most prestigious races on the F1 calendar. A sea of red engulfed the grandstands as tifosi, Ferrari’s passionate fanbase, celebrated their hero’s triumph at Monza.

Monza, the temple of speed, had once again crowned its hero, and this time it was San.

But this wasn’t an easy win to secure for him, as he had faced relentless pressure from his teammate, Seonghwa, who was right on his tail. The two scarlet cars battled fiercely, neck to neck on each corner and straight pushing the limits of perfection.

On the final lap, with Seonghwa close behind, San drove perfectly through the Parabolica, winning the race. As he crossed the line, the Ferrari garage eriupted with cheers , and tifosi lit red smoke flares covering the whole sky with a shade of deep red, celebrating Ferrari��s historic win.

Seonghwa finished just 1.2 seconds later, highlighting their team's strength. When San pulled into the pit lane, he raised his fist in triumph as his eyes locked with you in the crowd, a cute kitten like smile spreading across his face.. Your cheers filled the air, adding to his excitement as you cheered for both him and Seonghwa.

On the podium, San lifted the winner’s trophy with Seonghwa standing proudly next to him, equally ecsatic with the win. Champagne sprayed everywhere amidst the cheers, a special day for Ferrari, a moment everyone will remember forever.

A few more years and you’ll be part of the F1 circuit too.

As San walked down the podium, you jumped on him, engulfing him in a hug.

“Congrats! Congrats! Congrats! I am so happy for you!” you exclaimed, your voice reflecting how proud and excited you were for your boyfriend. “That race was freaking intense, but somehow you managed to pull it off flawlessly, if I may say.” You kissed his cheek as you complimented him.

“Thanks, baby. Wouldn’t have been possible without your support.” he replied, reciprocating your kiss as the crowd erupted in a chorus of “awws.” To them, you and San were THE ideal couple. In fact, tifosi were more excited about your future entry into the F1 circuit than anyone else. No jealousy, no hate, just pure support.

As San went to speak to his team, you made your way to Seonghwa. “Congrats, best friend!” you said, earning a sweet smile from him.

You and Seonghwa grew up in the same neighborhood, with your moms being best friends. You spent countless evenings playing in the park and talking for hours, sharing everything with each other. Although he was a few years older, your shared interests, great vibes, and undying love for F1, along with his occasional teasing and a dash of his tenderness, proved that age doesn't matter—it's all about the connection!

And now, here you both are, fulfilling that childhood dream, representing one of the greatest companies in the world.Ferrari.

“Hwa, 1.2 seconds! Bruh, you guys are too good, always one-upping each other!” you added, referring to the previous race that Seonghwa had won. He just stared at you, admiring you standing in front of him, his gaze fixed on the scarf wrapped around your neck.

As you waved your hand in front of him, he came back to his senses. “Yo! Hello... Earth to Seonghwa. Are you even listening, buddy?” you asked.

“I—Um, yeah. I am... I am,” he stammered, then continued, “When did you buy this scarf? It looks so good on you.”

“Umm…” you paused, signaling him to come down to your level to whisper in his ear. He chuckled, earning a pout from you. It wasn’t your fault, okay? You weren’t short; he was just extra tall. “I have a secret admirer. His name is ‘The Rose.’ He gave it to me,” you whispered, and he slightly nodded before bursting into fits of laughter.

“You! You have a secret admirer? Sure, sure, I believe you,” he mocked, earning a huff from you as you turned to walk away. He stood there for a few seconds before running to catch up with you.

The whole evening flew by as the entire Ferrari family celebrated the historic win at the most expensive Italian restaurant. The party was lit with expensive food, extravagent drinks and booze menu along with live performance. With San being the man of the moment, it was difficult for you to demand a few moments of alone time with him.

As the party dimmed down, you and San decided to sneak out to have a few moments in privacy.

“Where are we going?” you asked San, who literally was a ball of excitement in his driving seat.

“You’ll see, baby. It’s somewhere special, and I know you’ll love it,” he said, winking at you before returning his focus to the road. You tried to figure out the route, but San always took complex paths whenever he has surprises planned for you.

“Sannie, you’re not gonna tell me?” you asked sweetly, your hand gently rubbing his thigh as he chuckled nervously before clearing his throat and focused on the road.

“You’ll just have to wait and see,” he gupled as your hand was getting dangerously close to his crotch, wavering his focused gaze.

Growing impatient, you leaned in, letting your lips brush against his ear. “Come on, San. Just a hint?” Your warm breath made him flush, his ears turning pink, a proof of the effect you had on him.

“Nice try” he smirked, amusement dancing in his eyes. “But no hints tonight.”

With a playful pout, you shifted in your seat trying to sit stable as thick anticipation loomed in the air, your eyes tried to figure out the roads. Hmm…now they seem a bit more familiar. Wait was he taking you to the ferrari garage, the place where his beautiful car would be resting right now. The place who had been dying to visit.

The car came to a screeching halt, and your eyes lit up with a knowing look as a happy smile danced on your lips. Yes! Yes! Yes! He's taking you there. To see his scarlet beast, his gorgeous baby. A little less gorgeous than you, but still!

As you and San walked inside, your eyes sparkled at the sight of the beauty, at the freaking red beast that stood in all its glory, with San’s number 10 printed on the front, matching his birthday. You traced your hands along the car, soaking in the feeling of all the tracks San had dominated in this machine. But while you were feeling up the car, your boyfriend was feeling something else.

Two strong hands snaked around your waist firmly as San’s nose traced the crook of your neck, his warm breaths sending goosebumps all over your body.

“San…” you breathed out, a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding as he gently pulled you against him. “Hmmm… baby,” he replied, his mouth trailing open-mouthed kisses where your neck met your shoulder, making you feel hot all over.

“You loving this baby…?” he asked, his crotch pressed right against your ass, and you could feel his hard length.

“Loving what... the car or you?” you teased, leaning your head back against his shoulder, giving him more of your neck to explore.

“Both, cause the car is mine, and I belong to you. Both at your service, ready to give you everything you desire, baby.” His words sent fireworks exploding in your stomach, while his right hand gently grabbed your chin, tilting it slightly to the side, allowing him to capture your lips. Your soft, juicy lips instantly turned his brain to mush as an insatiable hunger took over him.

His hand slipped from your chin, but without breaking the steamy kiss, his fingers found their place around your throat, gently applying pressure. You moaned into the kiss, leaning further into him, almost grinding against him, making it clear how much you were enjoying this.

San smiled, loving how expressive you were. You had always been responsive to even his subtle gestures, which only pushed him to explore more with you.

Breaking the kiss, he gently guided you toward the car. “I vaguely remember some kitten mentioning she wanted to be taken against my race car,” he whispered, his breath hot against your ear, as your mind ran wild with images of the positions he would take you in, the ways his girthy length would explore your deepest depths, hitting just the right spots as you lay your head against the car while he pounded into you mercilessly.

Slightly tugging your little black dress up, you lay against the shark fin of his F1 car, giving him a mouthwatering view of your ass. His fingers instantly found your clothed cunt, rubbing the wetness through the fabric, and you moaned against his rough touch, the lace providing just the right amount of friction.

“So wet already, all for me, kitten?” he asked, a devilishly handsome smirk crossing his lips as he rubbed his angry, throbbing member through his pants.

“San… w-what if s-someone sees us?” you asked, struggling to form a coherent sentence while his miraculous fingers worked against your aching core.

“I don’t care,” he replied smugly as he yanked your panties off, the cold air hitting your bare skin, causing goosebumps to ripple across your body. Without warning, two thick fingers entered you, stretching you deliciously. You gasped at the sudden intrusion, his fingers preparing you for his hard, girthy member. He freed himself from his pants, his cock hard and leaking pre-cum, eager to be hugged by your tight walls, when a voice interrupted your intimate moment.

“San, Y/n! What are you—?” Seonghwa's voice broke in as he walked into the garage, cheeks tinged red, clearly having seen more than enough. “Wow, San, you shouldn’t be doing this here. What if someone sees you both?”

You were too stunned to speak, too embarrassed to meet his eyes as no words left your mouth. But San, on the other hand, was far from silent. Cocky, you might add.

“I don’t care. She’s my girlfriend, and I can have her whenever and wherever I want,” San replied, shooting Seonghwa a cocky smirk. “You got a problem with that?” he asked, his voice laced with roughness as if daring Seonghwa to challenge him, all while his tip teased your dripping cunt, sending jolts of electricity through you.

“San, stop—” you tried, your head flicking between him and Seonghwa, still embarrassed but knowing they both needed to stop.

“Actually, would the great Park Seonghwa care to join us?” San continued, making a rather surprising request. Your cheeks burned red as you tried to get off the car, but San held you captive, not letting you move.

Seonghwa scoffed. “No, thanks. Actually, you know what? Continue with your thing... I’m gonna go.” He turned on his heels, ready to leave when San stopped him halfway.

“Will ‘The Rose’ join us?” San said teasingly, as you jerked your head towards him, shock filling your expression as Seonghwa froze in his tracks.

Did San just call Seonghwa ‘The Rose’? Is he ‘The Rose’? No way… he can’t be—how—what… aghhh, why is he ‘The Rose’? Did San know about this all along? What the actual FUCK?!

Slowly turning toward both of you, still laying against San’s car, Seonghwa tried to speak. “How do you kn—”

San interrupted him. “I had my doubts. You acting all lovey-dovey with my girlfriend, numerous deliveries of flowers coming in your name, especially on the days when something really exciting had happened with Y/n! Either I’m not a dumbass, or you’re just too bad at hiding your sickening love for her.” He paused, a slight hint of jealousy evident in his voice as he thrust into you at once, earning a loud whimper.

San was enjoying this way too much. And to admit it honestly, so were you.

“But you know what sealed the deal, buddy? The red scarf. The same one I saw you receiving and the same one I saw around her neck the next day. Do you love her? Why don’t you confess then?” San continued, both with his words and his thrusts, fast and deep, hitting just the right spots as you turned into a whimpering mess beneath him, hands gripping the car tightly as you looked at Seonghwa.

“My love for her isn’t sickening, it’s genuine.All I wanted was to see her happy. Yes, I am ‘The fucking Rose’ and I love her. I’ve loved her since the very first day we met, still do even while she’s with you now.” Seonghwa confessed finally, standing his ground. His eyes met yours, turning soft instantly. One more hard thrust from San followed Seonghwa’s confession.

The revelations tonight were overwhelmingly intense for your little brain to handle, and with San pounding hard, you were almost on the edge and you needed Seonghwa too.

“Oh, you think I don’t care for her? I do care. A lot, actually. And I love giving her whatever the fuck she wants. That’s why I’m inviting you to join.” San said, a little angry at being questioned about his love for you. “You don’t want this, kitten? Your ‘The Rose’ joining us?” San quizzed you, his eyes meeting yours, holding a playful yet hungry desire as you clenced around him.

This freaking ass situation, San's words, Seonghwa’s confession, and San’s merciless thrusts, had you right at the edge, an aching release just waiting to happen, needing only one more little push. The Rose's push.

“Will ‘The Rose’ join us, please?” you asked, your voice dripping with sweetness as your eyes met Seonghwa’s soft gaze. “Hwa, I need you.”

That was all Seonghwa needed to hear. He quickly made his way toward you just as San thrust into you deeply, a chuckle escaping his lips. Adjusting himself between you and San’s car, Seonghwa picked you up, securing your legs around his waist while San remained buried inside you.

Is that even humanly possible? Who cares!

“Be gentle with her,” Seonghwa told San, his hand caressing your cheek, which was pressed against the car, before he kissed your forehead.

“Don’t teach me, Hwa! She loves it,” San shot back, a cocky grin on his face as he leaned closer to you, his breath hot against your ear. “You can’t deny how good it feels when I’m pounding into her like this. She’s practically begging for more.”

“She deserves a little tenderness too. Let The Rose show you how it's done.” With that, Seonghwa captured your lips in a hungry kiss. His lips registered in your mind, tender yet needy, a perfect blend of softness and urgency that sent shivers down your spine.

The kiss felt like a promise, a gentle reminder that even in chaos, his embrace offered comfort. As his hands explored your body, you felt the tension building within you, with San's relentless thrusts pushing you closer to the edge. With one final, deep kiss and a mind-boggling bite on your lower lip from Seonghwa, combined with San's passionate rhythm, you came hard, spilling all over San’s cock.

The world around you faded as pleasure washed over you in waves finally satisfying the ache. Your hands gripped Seonghwa firmly while your head rested in the crook of his neck, breathing heavily as you tried to recover from the intense pleasure.

“Just relax and enjoy it, love,” Seonghwa murmured, pressing a kiss against your hair and caressing it gently. “We’ll take care of you.”

“You're in for a long night kitten. Ready for round two?” San chuckled, pressing a kiss against your cheek, still brimming with energy.

As their words registered in your mind, you realized that surrendering to both of them was a temptation you couldn’t resist. With the King behind you and the Rose in front, this Queen was in for a long night and the night had only just begun. Hehe.

~ ~ Chérie ☆ signin’ off

Disclaimer : This is totally fictional and not a real depiction of the ATEEZ members. It's all just for fun only so please don’t take anything seriously and keep the mood light around here.

© ShixCherie.