#i had fun making the garnish

[wormtoxin]

made a pie for the uh, pie contest at work tomorrow

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

i think i need a lobotomy

[wardenparker]

Woo hoo! Way to go on the 2.5k followers! You deserve it

I would like to request Joel Miller w/ “put me down”

Pre-outbreak Joel Miller 1,642 words. "Put me down." Co-written with @absurdthirst

Reader has been drinking. Established relationship. Jealousy.

Joel rolls his eyes, wondering again what the hell is in the air tonight. He’s glad Sarah has already gone to bed, although she would probably be snickering at the scene. “Babe, maybe you should slow down.” He grunts swiping the beer bottle that he had been nursing and tossing it into the trash.

“Baby, it’s game day,” you protest with a giggle, even though you know he’s probably right. You made your sangria much stronger than usual and you’ve had more than a few cups while hanging out with his friends.

“Yeah it is.” You’re having fun, which is something that he would normally never deny you. Although it seems like you’ve gotten a little….boisterous in the last half hour. “How about we get a sandwich?” He suggests, thinking the bread would be good to help counteract the wine sloshing around in your stomach.

"But we have so many snacks!" The remnants of a chip and veggies and dip plate, the garnishes from a pile of wings, and the last two cookies from the batch Tommy baked are all out on the counter around you, but none of it constitutes actual eating.

He snorts, shaking his head at your wild flailing as you gesture around the counter and miss when you go to grab a chip. “Yep, sandwich.” He grunts to himself, turning around to grab the loaf of bread off the counter. “Or a wrap?”

"Can you be my wrap?" Alright, so you might be a bit tipsy. If the intense giggling from your silly joke is any indication. That doesn't mean you don't want to take advantage of the fact that you're the only two people in the kitchen right now to snuggle up with your boyfriend.

That makes him laugh, rolling his eyes at your antics and he turns to press his lips to your forehead. “You’re drunk.” He accuses fondly.

"Not totally," you protest, pouting at him as deeply as possible.

“Totally.” Joel laughs, leaning in and squashing your lips between his fingers playfully until you pull back. “Eat a wrap then you can have a glass of water.”

"And a kiss." Tacking that onto the end with a grin, you pull your arms around him so he can't pull away to do anything – let alone make a wrap or get a glass of water.

“And a kiss.” If you hadn’t almost started a fight, your possessiveness might be cute. Amusing even. But you had almost been ready to throw hands and he didn’t need the cops showing up here tonight.

"Oh-kay." The pleasant buzzing in your head and the fact that that bitch Larry Anderson had brought with him isn't in here to eye fuck Joel, combine to put you in a very amenable mood.

“Good.” He pecks your lips and reaches behind you to open the fridge. “Ham, or…ham?” He asks, the fridge slightly bare, but in his defense, he had been buying for the party and not wraps.

You hum, pretending to think really really hard, and realize you've forgotten the question while you were screwing up your face into comical expressions. "Ummm...wine?"

“Jesus.” Joel rolls his eyes and moves to the cabinet beside the fridge. “Water now.” He orders, tone a little sharper than before. He doesn’t want you with a bitch of a hangover tomorrow.

"Don't be mad." A pout overtakes your face immediately, but you lean against the kitchen counter and prepare to take whatever Joel dishes out. Even tipsy you know you probably overdid it earlier. It's not your fault that girl wouldn't take 'no' for an answer.

“I’m not.” He grabs a plastic cup, not even trusting you with a glass one at this point. “I just want you to be well hydrated.”

"Well..." The best you can do is shrug, but you're still pouting. "You sound mad."

“And I always look like an asshole.” Joel reminds you with a small chuckle. “So….?”

"I had to be mean to her." He pulls one of Sarah's plastic cups out of the cupboard and moves back to the fridge to fill it with cold, filtered water. "She was looking at you like you were a piece of meat, baby."

“Doesn’t matter.” He reminds with, turning around to hand the cup to you with a smirk. “I’m yours.”

Joel always takes care of you, and you know that even after two too many glasses of sangria, so you take the water cup dutifully. "I knowww. You're my piece of meat. But she wasn't respecting that and that's not okay."

“You don’t need to worry.” He promises softly, moving back to the fridge. “She doesn’t have anything on you.”

"I trust you," you clarify, dutifully sipping the water that he's gotten for you. Joel's loyalty has never been in question. Not when you were friends, not when you crossed the line into dating, and not now that you're living with him and Sarah. But the sangria had made you feisty and that was that.

“Good.” He chuckles as he slaps together some ham and a thick slice of that Muenster cheese you insist is better than Kraft. “Because you are the one sleeping in my bed, hogging the covers.”

"I keep telling youuuu." The singsong in your voice is interrupted by another drink of water. "We need a king-sized blanket. A big blanket. For us two hogs."

“I just will shiver every night.” He teases, folding the wrap up like a letter and handing it to you to eat. It wasn’t pretty, but he never claimed to be a good cook.

"But we could be warm snuggly burritos!" You insist, which is always the argument you give for why you should get an extra-large blanket for the queen sized bed you share, but this time you take a dramatic bite of the wrap he's made for you to punctuate your point.

“You would just steal all of those covers too.” He reminds you, leaning back against the counter as he eat watches you eat.

Giggling, you hold up one finger, crushing your wrap into an accordioned lump in the process. "One snuggly burrito."

“You might be a little cute when you’re this drunk.” Joel huffs, folding his arms over his chest.

"Baby..." Trying very hard to make your face serious fails spectacularly, and you end up giggling again. "I'm always cute. You said so."

“I did, didn’t I?” He huffs. “Finish eating and we’ll go back out to the party.” He bribes.

“Okayyyyyy.” It doesn’t stop you from leaning into his side though, and Joel lets you snuggle him without protest or question.

You eat the wrap quickly, making Joel think that one of your problems might be that you haven’t eaten today. When you reach for the veggies and dip, he encourages you to eat some of it too, not wanting you to have just the wrap on your stomach. Not having realized you were hungry in the first place, you’ve now eaten an entire meal standing in the kitchen and the pout you give Joel afterward intensifies. “Now I’m sleepy…” you huff, indignant at yourself for daring to be tired during a house party. Even a small one.

He chuckles quietly and pushes off the counter to walk over to where you had drifted away from him. Grazing off the table. Smirking, he bends down and scoops you up, about to carry you upstairs.

The squawk you let out could raise the dead, but he laughs so it ends up in half-hearted huffing and puffing as he carries you up the backstairs. “Put me doooowwwn! I can walk!” Not that you actually want him to, of course. Being manhandled by Joel is a privilege.

He smacks your ass, laughing again when you squeal. “No.” He tells you, continuing to climb the stairs. “You’ll go back out into the living room and fight that girl.”

“She put her tits in your face!” You groan, not bothering to fight as more stairs pass under Joel’s feet. He’s far stronger than you anyway. “Only my tits go in your face.”

You’re possessive when you’re drunk and it’s kind of hot. “I like your tits in my face.” He hums, grabbing your ass this time instead of slapping it. “That’s why I stood up. So she couldn’t do that.”

“And I like your little pancake ass,” you giggle, smacking his ass as he goes. Slinging you over his shoulder was a tactical error on Joel’s part.

“Hey.” Joel’s step falters and he snorts as you start to giggle. “Payback, huh?”

“Yep!” Another bright giggle breaks through as he hits the top step.

“You need to go to bed.” He huffs, shaking his head.

He carries you into the bedroom, only setting you down again when it can be directly on the bed. Before he can step away, though, you reach up to snag the edge of Joel's t-shirt and give him a soft smile. "I love you, baby."

“I love you too.” He promises, leaning back down to kiss you softly. “Lay down, I’ll get you some aspirin and water.”

"Then cuddles?" When you're tipsy �� or drunk – it's not hard to turn almost any expression into wide, pleading eyes. In this case, it's the wide and pleading eyes that you know Joel just can't resist.

Joel sighs softly, knowing you are feeling a little vulnerable and he nods. “Fuck ‘em.” He decides. “Tommy can keep their asses in line.” He tells you as he brings the bottle of Advil and the cup of water from the bathroom.

“Cuddles!” Maybe it’s simple of you, but ending any night in Joel’s arms is all you want. All you’ve wanted for years now. The day you went from friends to lovers was a gift, and that gift is just as precious to you now as it was then.

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

My Masterlist!

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Floyd Leech: Cinderella Step

GOOD GOD, FLOYD 😭 Put your grippers AWAY, I don’t wanna see those… (flashbacks to the horror of Dorm Uniform Jade groovy)

P.S. You should listen to Cinderella Step by Daoko :)) I enjoy it a lot, and it’s also the song that I named this ficlet after. I feel like that first full line (“Though you are the worst, I can’t help but love you”) is very evocative of the NRC boys 😂

Rise and Shine!

It was easy to tell which side of the room was Floyd's. It always looked like a hurricane had run through, scattering clothes all over every avaliable surface. Snack crumbs are sprinkled like a generous garnish on his desk and shelf. His belongings—interesting odds and ends he had collected over the weeks—were similarly strewn haphazardly, wherever there was free space to be occupied.

There was only one thing that the storm seemed to have missed.

His shoes.

A glossy black--patent leather. Large yet sleek, tapering into pointed toes. It was the same pair he wore every day with his school uniform, yet there was not so much as a scratch or a speck of dirt on them.

Pristine.

The one thing he takes good care of, you thought. Must be magic.

Other shoes sat in neat rows on a rack. Boots, sneakers, sandals, in shapes and colors you've never even imagined. The variety astounded you.

Floyd bounded about the room collecting his things. He hopped around on one leg, slipping on a sock, then alternated to the other leg. Next he slung his blazer, still slightly wrinkled from having been crumpled and tossed over a chair last night, on over his prim grey-lilac vest. His striped tie was forgotten, left forlorn on his bed as he yoinked the patent leather shoes and slipped them on.

“‘K, I’m ready," Floyd announced cheerily. "Let’s get going, koebi-chan~"

You stared at his messy room. "You're not going to tidy up a little before heading out?"

He blinked. "Hmm? Why would I? Stuff's gonna shift around anyway, so there's no point in doing that."

Floyd strolled out, hands casually tucked in his pockets. You followed after him, falling in time with his footsteps. Today, they were long and languid, like waves lazily combing the beach.

You knew what that meant; good mood, best to not disturb it.

"... Right." You offered a small, reassuring smile. “Hey, I noticed that you have a lot of shoes—and you take such good care of them.”

“Yeah. Cuz we don’t really have’m where I come from. Gotta make the most of my human experience and all.”

"You don't exactly dress in a shirt and pants under the sea either," you pointed out with a shrug.

“Shoes are special.” He said it with surprisingly conviction, an uncharacteristic seriousness set in his eyes. "You kinda need them to do the things humans do every day, least without getting nagged at. Jumping, dancing, strolling down the street."

“All this talk about footwear… You sound like Cinderella.”

“Ehh… Do I give you those vibes?” There was a crackle entangled with his words.

“You’re the kind of guy that would sneak out if Azul told you to stay put.” You paused, then added, “just to prove a point.”

He gave a razor-sharp grin in response. “Touché.”

Floyd glanced down at his feet. His eyes barely lingered there for half a second before they flicked to yours. “Glass slippers sound cool though.”

“Glass slippers? Really? You’re not scared they’d break…? I thought you’d be into more durable shoes. Something easy to move around in.”

“I’d try’m on at least once, as long as it’s not lame lookin’. I’ll try anything at least once. Glass slippers, a puss’s boots, ballet flats from twelve dancing princesses, shoes made by elves…”

“Even cursed shoes?” you asked. “Professor Trein was telling us about them the other day. Put them on, and you’re cursed to dance forever and ever—or at least until you collapse from exhaustion.”

Floyd made a face. “Nah. Dancing’s fun, but not if you do it all the time. I’d get sick of it.”

"There’s more than one way of dancing.”

“Duh. I know that. But it’ll still get pretty boring after a while.”

“I don’t think so.” You shook your head, your feet coming to a stop. “Dancing’s a lot like having a conversation, except your mouth doesn’t ever need to move. You just let your body do the talking.”

Your legs criss-crossed in a quick jig. "This is being excited." Standing on your toes, you carefully elevated yourself. "This is whispering." Putting all your weight into your feet, you stomped. "And this is shouting!"

Floyd watched your demonstration in silence. Gold, right. Olive, left. Together, mysterious and mirthful.

“Sounds fun,” he piped up at last. “I want in on this."

Before you had the chance to respond, Floyd's had had already latched onto yours. The other wrapped around your waist, tugging you against his chest. You lurched against him, and the sound of his raspy laughter filling your eardrums.

“You wanna dance? Let’s dance. Then you tell me what my dancing says to you.”

“W-Wait, Floyd…!”

He didn’t.

Floyd strung you along and down the street, swinging you erratically in his arms. With his long limbs swaying, he moved as naturally as a fish amid coral. For a creature of the sea, he had such grace on land that you could never tell his true origins.

He was the wind, a water current, a wayward traveler. Constantly changing and never truly contained.

Your panic and surprise easily melted into light-hearted laughter. And your feet, too, began to weave freely, as if wading on the shoreline, drawing indiscriminate shapes in the sand.

Realization struck you when you looked at him again. Your heart went thump-thump-thump, in a frantic little dance of its own.

What he’s trying to convey is…

Floyd met your gaze, sparks flying. His fingers interlocked with yours, he leaned in and grinned. Cheeks ruddy, eyes shining with exhibition.

“We don’t need words. Just our dancin’ shoes and each other!”

[lawsvalentine]

@yuhhvalentine I just thought I another scenario that would be fun when you have the time though. Can I please request NSFW Law x Chef 👩‍🍳 Female reader. With the reader making some sex inducing rice balls as a favor for Ikkaku. But Law steals one without knowing. In the end reader figures it out.

Cee’s note: No way! I was thinking about doing a Law aphrodisiac fic for a minute now, it’s like you read my mind lol. But sure thing love 💓

Tags 🤍: @sanjisblackasswife (🫶🏽 your aphrodisiac series is the best) @3strapstyle @uchihabbynic @pinkcrystal-rose @nympheclipse (my fellow Law girlies and gents ) @roronoaswifey (ily bae) @usopps-devotee (you highkey inspired the mirror sex part)

Consuming an Aphrodisiac Food • Law x Fem!reader • (18+)

CW: Accidental Consumption of Aphrodisiac food, smut (dry humping, fingering, mirror sex, shower sex, praise, overstimulation, dumbification, squirting, multiple creampies), a very horny Law, slight aftercare at the end

*MDNI*

“I’m telling you, the sex is supposed to be MIND BLOWING!”

You chuckled at Ikakku’s words as your hands molded the rice balls into shape. This wasn’t the first time a crew member had requested for you to make them special meals, with you being the ship’s cook and all. However, this was the first time someone requested for you to make sex induced food for them.

But Ikakku was your dear friend. You two were the only women in Law’s crew, so naturally you two became very close. You were more than happy to do this favor for her.

“I still can’t believe you and Penguin are a thing”, you said with a shake of your head. “And please spare me the details about y’alls sex life.”

Ikakku feigned offense with a scoff and a hand to her chest. “Hey! I don’t judge your relationship with our Captain”, she said with a wiggle of her eyebrows.

Your cheeks burned at the mention of your lover. Even though you and Law have been together for a while now, the thought of him still made you feel butterflies in your stomach.

“That’s different! Me and Law are more…private,” you said shyly.

“More like BO-RING!”

“IKKAKU!” You gasped, ready to throw the rice ball at her.

She giggled, holding her hands up in defense, “Look, all I’m saying is maybe you two should spice things up a bit. Wouldn’t hurt for our uptight captain to loosen up.”

With that, Ikakku exited the kitchen, leaving you to your thoughts.

Were we…boring?

Law was a busy man and you a busy woman, with him and his medical studies and you having the responsibility of preparing meals for the entire crew throughout the day. So to balance responsibilities and your relationship, you guys had a schedule for your…alone time.

You weren’t complaining, the routine worked for you too. But now as you were rolling the sticky rice in your hands, you couldn’t shake Ikkaku’s words out of your head.

.

“There! All done”, you wiped your forehead with the back of your arm before reaching behind your back to loosen your apron. There in a metal dish were 6 rice balls sprinkled with the special garnish just as Ikkaku requested. You hung your apron on the rack before heading out the kitchen to fetch your friend to retrieve her “snack”.

After you had exited the kitchen, moments later, your tattooed boyfriend entered in hopes of finding you.

While working, he thought it wouldn’t hurt to take a short break just to fetch something to eat (mostly to see you). He frowned at the empty kitchen, he was sure you would be in here. His disappointment faded once he spotted the rice balls on the kitchen counter.

His lips curled in a smile, cheeks slightly tinted pink as he eyed the dish.

Were these for me?

Rice balls were his favorite snack and you would make it often for him when he would miss out on dinner, too consumed with work. It was one of the things Law most appreciated about you.

Law thought you must’ve known he would come in here for food and left these rice balls for him. He grabbed two of them to take with him back to his office. As he made his way back, he munched on one of them, humming contently at the taste.

It tasted slightly different than the ones you usually made but it was still delicious nonetheless. He made a mental note to “thank you” later for it.

.

After an hour, Law started feeling…strange.

Law’s forehead beaded with sweat droplets. He paused his writing to wipe his forehead with the back of his palm. He then stripped off his hoodie, his tank top sticking to his chest, drenched in sweat.

What the hell?

Law stripped the damp tank from his body leaving his chest bare. He started examining himself, concerned he was starting to catch a fever. After the diagnostic, he came to the conclusion that he wasn’t sick but something was causing him to be all hot and bothered and it was frustrating the hell out of him.

Suddenly a knock sounded at the door, interrupting his thoughts. He yelled a “who is it?” and turned his attention to the door, to find you peeking your head in with a grin. His face softened at the sight of you.

“Hey babe, I have some time to kill before preparing dinner. Mind if I stay here?” You gave him your best puppy dog eyes.

You were so cute, Law wanted to kiss that adorable pout off your face.

Law nodded, beckoning you inside with his hand. You beamed as you entered his office, shutting the door behind you. You went towards the book stand adjacent to Law, back facing him as you scoured the selection for a book to read.

Law couldn’t control his gaze from staring at your ass, admiring how nice it looked in those jeans you were wearing. He could feel his pants get tighter from his growing erection. He pressed a hand to his bulge, scrunching his forehead at his body’s reaction.

He didn’t know why he felt so horny all of a sudden but all he knew is that he needed you and needed you now.

You finally found a book to your liking and was about to sit on his desk but instead you were pulled on top of Law’s lap, straddling his pelvis. Your eyes widened when you felt how hard he was under you.

“L-Law?” A soft moan escaped your lips as Law started littering kisses and bites against the skin above your shirt collar.

“Mmm….wanna thank you for earlier” Law mumbled against your soft skin.

Thank me for earlier?

You had no clue what Law was referring to. You were about to question him more until you felt his lips against yours. His hands snaked around your lower back, squeezing your ass through your jeans. Your lips moved against each other so sensually, soft moans being swallowed by each others mouths.

He pulled away to only latch his mouth back against your neck. Your hands tossed his spotted hat to the side before entangling your fingers in his messy locks . He started bucking his hips up into you, adding pressure from his bulge to your clothed sex.

“You’re so good to me Y/N-ya”, Law said between peppered kisses he was leaving from your neck to your lips, “wanna show you how much I appreciate you”

You didn’t know what had gotten into your usually stoic boyfriend but you were definitely enjoying this side of him.

Your arousal started to build as you two continued grinding against each others fronts, grunts and pants escaping each others lips as you both chased your highs. Your moans became high pitched as you felt your orgasm hit you.

You felt Law groan against your neck as he came right behind you, making a mess inside his pants. Law lifted his head, his darkened eyes meeting your dazed ones.

“Looks like we made a bit of a mess” Law smirked with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Before you knew it, you were being carried out of Law’s study room to the bathroom across. You were surprised by Law’s actions considering he was usually very keen about keeping your relationship private, with little to no PDA. You were loving this sudden spontaneous behavior from your boyfriend, making your core throb even more for him. Once the bathroom door closed between you two, you both couldn’t keep your hands or mouths off each other.

“Law what about dinner? Our schedule?”, you managed to get out between kisses.

“Fuck the schedule” Law prodded and pulled your jeans down your thighs. “Need you so bad right now”

That’s all you needed to hear, completely letting yourself go with him. You both stripped each other’s clothes from your bodies. Law turned you around, your back pressed against his chest as he lifted one of your legs up, your foot resting on the bathroom sink. You both were facing the mirror, your leaking pussy on full display.

Law’s arm wrapped around your front, his tatted “E” and “A” fingers infiltrating your wet hole. You mewl at the stretch of his long digits, as he continued to pump in and out of you.

“You look so hot like this babe, getting fucked by my fingers” he said, eyes strained on the mirror, watching the faces you’re making and the way your arms desperately grasp his arms as his fingers penetrate your cunt.

He swears he can cum alone just from the sight of you falling apart by just his fingers. Suddenly your body starts to writhe as you feel your stomach tightening.

“Law…I can’t it’s too much” You whimper, feeling his fingertips hit your sweet spot over and over again. Law takes his fingers out and starts rubbing your clit violently.

“Yes you can, take it” Law was not letting up, determined to get you to cum.

“Shit..Law…Law..Law”, you chant his name as your legs started to shake as your juices spray all over the mirror like a hose.

Law was mesmerized watching you make a mess all over his fingers and the bathroom sink and mirror.

Your vision was hazy and your chest was heaving as you came down from the most intense orgasm you ever had. You didn’t even realize your limp body was being carried into the shower until you felt the warm water spray down on both of you.

Law lowered you onto his cock, and started bucking his hips up into you. Law usually paced his strokes more thoroughly when you two usually had sex, but at this moment his thrusts were animalistic as he chased his high.

The sound of the shower water barely drowned out your cries and Laws groans alongside the slapping of skin against skin.

The way Law’s cock was hitting your g spot so fast and hard, had tears glossing your eyes. The pain of your overstimulated cunt mixed with pleasure was too much.

Law couldn’t get enough of you. He was drunk off the feeling of your sweet warm walls around him. He emptied his load not once, but twice more. He continued fucking himself into overstimulation. He had one more in him, pushing past his limit. His pace never letting up, determined to fill you up one last time.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes” Was the only word you could say as Law continued abusing your cunt. You had lost count of the amount of orgasms you had, each one more intense than the last.

“Fuck, babe, I love you” Law grunts, before spilling inside you one last time.

.

Your back was pressed against his tattooed chest as he lazily caressed the bar soap over your chest pressing a kiss to your forehead.

After you both calmed down, Law’s sexual drive finally wore off. He drew you two a bath to properly clean yourselves off from the mess you two made.

“That was…” Law paused unable to describe what had just happened.

“Mind blowing”, you finished, and suddenly a switch was flipped in your head and your eyes widened at your revelation.

“Babe, did you happen to eat rice balls that were in the kitchen?” You said, tilting your head back to look at him.

“Yes and they were delicious”, he pressed another kiss to your forehead. “I thought that was clear from my “thank you””, he said with a smirk.

Oh my god

You suddenly burst out laughing, and Law looked at you like you had lost your mind.

“What, Y/N-ya?”

How could you have not seen the signs. Suddenly your boyfriend’s behavior was starting to make s lot more sense.

“See, what had happened was….”

[mikkomacko]

timo and some of the guys taking reader out drinking and returning to an angry nico with a drunk reader

You did nothing wrong, to be fair.

Well maybe not entirely since you never once told Nico that you weren’t in fact having a quiet night at home anymore.

It was supposed to be a cute and cozy movie night for the two of you, but Nico had some stuff to work out with Lee and the Isles so he’d gone over to Elmont with Jonas and Jesper.

And whatever deal or job they were working out had run far longer than they thought it would. Nico was gonna be home late, something he swore he’d make up for by cooking you dinner tomorrow night, whatever you wanted, and then snuggling with you on the couch after.

It was a fair deal. So you weren’t upset. That and you know how this life goes. It’s very unpredictable and you’ve learned to adapt.

Which is exactly what you did when Timo’s contact lit up your phone screen ten minutes after Nico rescheduled your date.

“Come to the bar with us tonight!” He had said in place of a greeting, and you could hear the muffled voices of the other boys in the background.

“I don’t Teems,” you mumbled, eyeing the couch and fuzzy blankets you’d laid out earlier.

The line rustled, Timo’s disgruntled shout trailing away as someone stole the phone from him.

“Come on boss,” it was Mercer, words already a little sloppy. “We can’t go out without our leader, and we’d rather have you than Nico anyway.”

Before you could answer, overlapping shouts of encouragement and jeering interrupted whatever excuse you were trying to come up with. Instead you laughed.

“Alright alright! I’ll be ready in half an hour, someone better be outside to pick me up!”

That was four hours ago.

Four hours of scream singing Kesha in the car with Jack, Luke, and Holtzy who were your drivers for the night. Four hours of slipping into Nico’s seat at the private booth, martini and martini coming to the table. They were unstopping, always with extra garnishes, and always at the ready like some weird fountain of youth. Four hours of trying to out drink Mercer and out dance Timo. Four hours of keg standing behind the bar with Lazar and Dermy.

Lazar gives out first, legs awkwardly slipping from Haula’s hold and his boots crash heavily into the wood floor. The boys holler like drunk frat boys at a football game, Dermy slapping at your calf in celebration and you let the nozzle slip from your lips.

Dermy carefully drops your legs, your toes barely touching the ground before him, Timo, and Mercer are squeezing around you. Head spinning, from both alcohol and being upside down, you laugh as Timo lifts you up. Hanging over his shoulder you find Jack, the older Hughes boy just as plastered and lining up a row of fireball shots.

“Miss boss!” He yells, messily waving you over and you stretch your arms out towards him.

“Jacky!” You call, words slurring but enough for him to comprehend. And Timo too because he stumbles around the counter to Jack, placing you on the sticky bar top.

Mercer’s head pops up next to you, propped on his elbows and his eyes twinkle when he sees the shot glasses.

“We should close the bar for just us more often.” Mercer laughs, shaking sweaty strands of hair off his forehead. Haula claps him on the shoulder, a shit eating grin on his face when he looks between the group of you.

“And leave Nico at home!” He teases, winking at you. You laugh, elbow digging into Mercers shoulder as you lean over him to get closer to Haula.

“But I like him!” You defend, swaying a bit when Mercer adjusts his stance in order to accept the overflowing shot glass Jack is hanging him. “He’s so fun!”

They all groan in unison, dramatically hanging their heads as if you just said the most  egregious sentence ever spoken.

“Babe,” Jack pouts, “you don’t have to lie to us. You can say you’re with him because he’s hot.”

He hands you a shot glass. “What?” You gasps, then giggle drunkenly. “He’s so fun. We should invite him.”

Jack and Mercer share a look. “You must not be drunk enough. Hurry and down that.”

You don’t need to be told twice. The group of you messily clink glasses together, fireball dripping down your fingers and then you’re tossing it back.

Heat licks at your throat and chest, enough to make your voice hoarse when you jab a finger at Jack’s shoulder. “Don’t be mean to my Nico, mister.”

He holds his hands up in defense. “M’just saying, he doesn’t have a lot of hobbies.”

“Boring,” Haula cackles. “He’s saying he’s boring.”

“That is so not true!” You shout, shocked that any of them could say that. “Take that back Jack!”

The boy giggles, smacking Timo on the chest before nodding at you. “Beat me at a keg off and I’ll take it back!”

Not one to shy away from a challenge, especially when drunk, you push yourself off the bar with gangly limbs. Timo reaches out to steady you, helping you to your feet with a drunken laugh.

“Dermy,” you shout, “get my feet. We’re kegging!”

~~~~~

Which is where Nico finds you two minutes later, sitting on Timo and Dermy’s shoulders with the leg nozzle hanging from your lips and Jack on his knees behind the bar, puking into the trash can.

You don’t see him at first, triumphantly holding your fists in the air while the two men bounce you in time with all the boys cheering. Luke is at your feet, a wide grin plastered on his face and phone out taking either a video or a photo.

Not that it matters to you, sticking your tongue out and squeezing your eyes shut as you lean forward into the camera. Time has to grab your thigh to keep you from falling, laughing when you cheer “suck on that Jacky boy!”

You can hear Jack trying to rebuttal, but it’s quickly cut off by the ear piercing whistle that rings through the empty bar.

Everyone freezes, half of you out of fear and the other half out of drunken surprise. Because three men are in the entryway of the bar, Jesper and Jonas trying to hide amused smiles as they take in the scene in front of them.

You plastered and on the shoulders of Timo and Dermy, the boys jeering you on. And Jack on the floor, two seconds away from passing out.

You’re too focused on the beautiful man in front though, unfazed by the scowl on his lips and the pinch between his eyebrows. He’s still in the dress pants he wore this morning, but his button up has been abandoned in favor of a black tank top, so tight you think you can see his abs through it.

“What is going on here?” Nico growls, arms crossed over his chest. Your eyes fall to his biceps, mouth pooling with saliva as they flex.

Timo and Dermy drop you, not enough for it hurt but enough that it makes your knees wobble and buckle, only staying upright when Luke’s body gets in the way of you falling.

“Oh shit,” Timo mutters. “Sorry babe.”

You don’t care. All you care about is the beautiful, beautiful man up front that’s staring at you so heatedly you think you might melt.

“Nicoooo!” You sing, stumbling through the crowd of boys and towards your boyfriend. He meets you halfway, sighing heavily when you trip on your own feet and wobble forward.

Crashing into his chest, you slink your arms around his middle, wrap your right leg around his left and squish your cheek into his body. Nico wraps an arm around you to keep you steady, fingers tight around your bicep.

“Whose bright idea was this?” Nico calls out, gruff and annoyed. You can hear muttering behind you, all the boys arguing over who to blame and who kept serving drinks and who challenged who and who even planned this in the first place.

Sleepy, you tuck your chin into his chest and blink up Nico. “Don’t be mad, why are you mad?”

Nico sighs softly, peering down at you with a raised eyebrow. “You didn’t think to tell me that you wouldn’t be at home tonight?” He asks, though it doesn’t actually sounds like a question.

“Or maybe answer your phone when I text? Or again when I call? Five times?”

Confused, you slap at the back pocket of your jeans, frowning when you come up empty handed. You have no idea where your phone is.

“Lost,” you respond, clinging tighter to Nico when he looks over your head and nudges forward, free hand stretching out. Then he’s wiggling your phone in front of you, an amused frown on his face when you smile.

“You found it! It’s because you’re so smart, I know you’re so smart and fun. And funny too, like when you make that face.”

Your fingers find his mouth, tracing over his pout fondly. Nico ignores your touch and slips your phone into your back pocket.

“I was worried,” he scolds, voice deep and rumbly. “Especially when you didn’t answer the fifth call…”

Nico looks at you pointedly, and it settles heavily in your gut when you finally realize what he’s saying. You’d gone MIA on him pretty much. As soon as Luke and Holtzy were knocking on your door, you’d forgotten everything except that Jack had Jell-O shots in the back seat and Luke is good on aux.

You never told Nico where you were going or how long. And then you never answered your phone.

Okay maybe you did technically do something wrong.

“Nico,” you gasps softly, dropping your right foot back to the ground and standing up straight. “M’sorry. I just-Luke and then Jack, and Mercer called me boss, and then we were having fun-“

“Oh I know,” he interrupts. “I had about ten videos from Jack of you on the bar and then on the keg and on the dance floor.”

Maybe he’s a tiny bit amused now, ready to let everything go. You smile innocently, cheeks heating up as he recounts your drunken fun. Nico nods to the Devs behind him.

“Someone get Jack home. The rest of you clean up and get out.”

Immediately they jump into action, scuffling and chatting lowly as the sober help the drunk home. You imagine Luke is in charge of Jack and you wince.

“What?” Nico mumbles, brushing your hair out of your face.

“I made Jack throw up.” You whisper, giggling quietly. “And now Luke has to clean him up.”

Nico blinks. “Good, maybe it’ll teach them to grow up.”

You pout. “I’m older than them.”

“You don’t need to grow up. You can stay just like this.”

“Because you’ve got me?”

Pride glimmers in his dark eyes. “Because I got you.”

Nico takes you home after that, holds your hand in the car and talks you through chugging a bottle of water on the ride there. And he helps you inside, an arm around your waist when you stumble through the front door. And he even holds your hair when you dash into the kitchen to throw up.

Even if he is angry or annoyed, he’s got you.

[attapullman]

The Perfect Pink | Robert "Bob" Floyd

Summary: While bartending for Rolling Acres Retirement's Valentine's Party, you encounter a pink-cheeked man and his cherry-loving cousins.

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: all fluff with alcohol mentions

A Note From Mo: Here is my Pink Lady fic for @thedroneranger's Pick Your Poison event to go with this gorg moodboard! As a part-time mixologist and full-time Bob Floyd lover, this was such a fun concept to play around with and has inspired me to come up with more pink drinks. I've never been a Valentine's girly, but I fully believe this pink-cheeked WSO could convince me otherwise. To everyone who reads this, I love you bunches and bunches, all 365 days in the year!

It’s so pink. Horrendously. Abysmally. Pepto-bismally. PINK.

When you agreed to tend the bar in a pinch, a few bundles of carnations and candy pink paper hearts were your guess for the evening’s decorations. But when you showed up to Rolling Acres Retirement's Valentine’s Party holding a crate of soda water and a handful of shakers, your senses flatlined with the amount of pink covering every surface.

Petal pink tablecloths straightened over round tables; a small bouquet of magenta carnations attached to each folding chair and incensing the recreation hall of the retirement home. Heart-covered paper plates and folded napkins set up at each place setting, glittering confetti sprinkled around the tableware. The ceiling isn’t even a reprieve, a rainbow of fuchsia and rose and flamingo and blush balloons filling up every available inch of space.

Suzette on the front desk had complimented your dusky pink sweater - an appropriate choice for the holiday - but set against this backdrop you feel like another decoration. An oversized bauble that also makes cocktails and pours cheap wine.

And now, standing behind this makeshift card-table-turned-bar covered in bubblegum crepe paper, your brain might explode in a cloud of hot pink smoke. Counting out pours and trying not to slice yourself making garnishes is a struggle keeping up with all these orders. While the average age of the party goer may be eighty, they drink more than the 21st birthday bash you bartended last weekend. You’ve been here all of an hour and Mrs. Moscovitz has already downed three fuschia cosmopolitans.

While disappointed you don’t have more romantic Valentine’s Day plans - though, when have you ever had a date on this too pink day? - it’s fun to see who’s turned up to celebrate. White-haired couples are swaying on the makeshift dance floor, every shade of pink and red in their attire. Bridge groups and knitting circles are excitedly chatting at their respective tables, gossiping over who is in attendance and with whom. Even the staff have wide grins splitting their faces, enjoying the festivities that break up the bleak winter. It’s the least you can do to spend the holiday providing beverages for this crowd.

The best part is the families. While romantic love is thick in the air, so is platonic love. Family members of all ages have come out to spend the holiday with the residents. Mr. Gordon’s daughter and her family have driven hours to catch up over pot roast and sparkling cider while his grandson plays trucks over a pile of chocolates he snuck from Suzette.

Orders have slowed down and your eyes keep glancing over to Ms. Floyd’s table. The entire clan has showed up for dinner, dancing, and to take home a batch of her homemade snickerdoodles. Multiple relatives are taking up two entire heart-sprinkled tables. Your focus is mainly on the second table for too far from you, where the grandkids have been relegated to play cards and swap candy hearts to pass the time.

“Why don’t you go ask the pink lady for more cherries.” God, he’s cute. The only guy in this place near your age and his attention is stolen by a pair of toddler girls obsessed with the cherries in their Shirley temples. 

You divert your eyes quickly when you realize he’s talking about you and your pink sweater. The girls giggle shyly, the high pitched squeals of glee as they convince him to go up instead. Fiddling with shakers, wiping down the counter, you try to stay busy as you physically feel him approach the converted bar and your trembling hands.

“Hi!” His smile is thin and nervous and his cheeks are pink, blushing from his little cousins and their antics. Also because you’re much prettier up close and he’s wearing a shirt he’d never normally be caught in if his grandma hadn’t picked it out. 

He’s much cuter at this distance as well. Sandy hair combed neatly, one small strand slipping out behind his ear. Friendly cerulean eyes framed by golden wire spectacles, similar to the ones several of the ex-military men at Rolling Acres are sporting. His thin lips falter slightly as he takes in how well the pink of your sweater compliments your skin. God, he wishes he wasn’t wearing this shirt.

You spring into service mode and grab a fresh cocktail shaker. “What can I do you for?”

“I’m technically up here for some cherries.” You dutifully nod, hoping to hide the fact you’ve been watching him converse with the toddler girls in their matching baby pink dresses most of the night. You make a small dish of cherries up and push it toward him, shaking your head when he attempts to pay. “The thirty-eight cents of cherries is a small expense for a night those two will talk about for weeks. They’re on the house.”

He grabs the dish with a smile, but realizes he now has no excuse to stay by the bar. And while he loves his cousins, he’s on leave for a few more weeks and you’re really pretty. A few extra minutes wouldn’t hurt. He extends his hand with a timid smile. “I’m Bob.”

You reach out and shake his hand back as you introduce yourself, hoping the condensation coating your fingers isn’t too noticeable. He immediately commits your name to memory, happy to replace “The Pink Lady” with a name as fitting to you as yours.

He moves out of the way as a woman in a magenta scarf orders a round for her bingo group. Bob watches as you whir into action, pouring liquors and counting off ounces. The delicate way you garnish each drink so the owner feels special. Your gracious smile when a tip is stuffed into the heart-shaped velvet box provided to you for tips.

When the line at the bar dies down, he sidles back up to your makeshift station. Bob notices the way you eye the decorations warily, still adjusting to the deafening pink of it all. He drums lightly on the blushing pink tablecloth, catching your wide-eyed attention. “Everything all right?”

“Uh, this place is too…pink?” you laugh, gesturing to the overabundance of rosy hues surrounding you. For possibly the first time all night, Bob realizes that while you were the only pink thing that had his attention, it is suffocating in the recreation hall. 

“Yes, yes it is,” he chuckles right back, eyes soaking in the offending decorations. There’s a comfortable air between the two of you, and he decides to push his luck for more time with The Pink Lady.

Bob clears his throat, pulse thrumming through his body. Tonight is his one and only chance to land a date with the pretty bartender.

“So, to go with the theme, what is the pinkest drink you can make me?” He wiggles his eyebrows, his best attempt at flirting. A hint of a giggle escapes as you purse your lips, contemplating his challenge. 

“I can make you a pink lady.” 

He narrows his eyes. “Is that a real drink, or have you named it after yourself?”

“It’s real, I promise.” You’re all smiles at his attention as you combine the gin, applejack, and grenadine with a splash of lemon juice. He really could watch you work for hours.

As you reach for the last ingredient, his eyes bug out. “Is that an egg?” He’s a Navy man, his normal bar only has cocktails with two ingredients. Since when did eggs go in cocktails?

“When you dry shake an egg white it creates this nice foam, adds to the drink.” While he wants to come across as open-minded and cultured, he’s hesitant. “If you don’t like it, I’ll make you something else.”

He’s bewitched as you pour the perfectly pink drink into a plastic coup, the creamy white foam rising to top it off. A cherry balances the rim, one that won’t be stolen by his mischievous cousins. As he looks between the freshly poured drink and you, he swears your cheeks are the same happy pink.

You push the drink toward him, excited to share something new with a customer. Always a gamble as a bartender, but worth it when you expand someone’s palate. He gives you a tentative smile, unsure if he’s going to like it, but he really wants to impress you. In return, you give him an encouraging nod, completely unsure of how this will go. He takes a sip, the frothy mixture coating his tongue.

As far as he’s concerned, the drink is named after you. Not too sweet, not too tart, a divinely balanced combination of flavors in a perfect pink concoction. Bob is convinced you would taste just as good, especially with a cherry. The thought makes his brain blank.

“Do you like it?” Your hopeful eyes are endearing. He wants to brush the strand of hair from your cheek and assure you that he likes it, that he’d like anything you made him because you made it. But you’re practically strangers so he stumbles over his words as he promises it’s delicious. 

The bowl of cherries for his cousins still in his hand, Bob stands to the side of the bar and sips his tartly sweet drink, casually keeping up conversation with you as you serve other patrons. You’re glad for the company, enjoying the way he asks about your technique and mutters out the few things he knows about wine from conversations with his aunt. Despite the fact you’re working, it’s the best Valentine’s Day you’ve had in years with this bespectacled man watching you tend bar.

He’s just so cute, blushing his own special pink hue when your eyes connect while you shake up a few martinis.

“Uncle Bob!” There is no mistaking who is calling him over. Two identical heads pouting as they motion him over. His time with you is up. He gives you a sweet smile, trying to memorize every inch of your face, before motioning his hand filled with cherries in their direction. You bittersweetly grin right back, smile lingering as you start on Mr. Nickerson’s two merlots as you watch his broad shoulders walk away.

Oh, how you wish he would come back.

Because it’s a retirement home and not a frat house, by ten the party is wrapping up. You’ve exchanged shy glances with Bob a handful of times, but his family has taken up most of his attention with Navy questions and inquiring when he’s going to visit next. He barely registers the event is over before he’s rummaging through his mom’s handbag with his last attempt at salvaging the night.

You’re cleaning up your supplies when the Floyd clan walks past, all waving good night to you and the staff, thanking you all for a great Valentine’s night. The girls thank you for their cherries, a stem hanging from one’s lip. 

Staggering at the end of the crowd is Bob, his cheeks flushed and palms tingling. He stands in front of your table, rocking on his heels, working up his courage. You give him a warm smile, thanking him for his company, and he completely melts. As he holds up his occupied hand, he hopes this works.

“Forgot to slip this in earlier.” His smile is tense as he jams a few dollars through the absurdly small hole in your improvised tip box. You thank him before both blurting out awkward goodbyes. As he catches up with his family, a pang rings through your chest. Disappointed he’s gone, never to be seen again. 

Bob Floyd, a Valentine’s mirage you will remember fondly.

Once all your things are packed, you square things up with Suzette with your pay for the event and a promise to stop by to visit the residents later in the month. You schlep everything to the car, a mixture of emotions painting your face in the rearview mirror as you make your way back home. The weight of defeat keeping you from bringing anything inside except for that damn tip box you’re hoping will cover groceries for the week.

You pry open the velvet lid and are met with the best surprise.

There, at the bottom of your substitute tip jar, underneath all the singles the elderly stiffed you with, was a scrap of cheap rosy pink napkin. You unfurl it to see neat chicken scratch handwriting, the pen poking through the fabric in spots as he worked to write out his message with a phone number beneath.

I’m here until the 27th. Drinks on me? - Bob

Now that you think about it, maybe you do like pink.

taglist: @berryvanille @bobgasm @bradshawsbaby @cosmoeticss @creatchie8 @drxgxnslxyer @hangmanapologist @hiireadstuff @jessicab1991 @just-in-case-iloveyou @kmc1989 @maryelizabeth13 @petersunderoos96 @rhettsluvr @roosterforme @seitmai @sweetwhispersofchaos @topherwrites @xoxabs88xox @yuckosworld

join the taglist

[hazel2468]

Okay no legitimate suggestion for people who like. Host parties.

If someone at the party is not drinking, for any reason, and they get like. A soda or something?

Garnish it.

It’s fun. It like, upgrades it and eliminates at least some of the “everyone is drinking pretty drinks and I have a lame soda” thing. It looks nice. And especially like, a citrus peel twist- you can express those oils and it give the drink a smell that I associate with cocktails without the alcohol.

My friends did this in college with like. They would make ALL the drinks colorful and fun to eliminate any judgement or pressure around drinking alcohol, because everyone had something that looked cool. The regular punch was just as chock full of candy and fruit as the alcoholic punch.

[therhythmafterthesummer]

Wereroomies werewolf!chan reaction to his girl in a rabbit costume? I know that man will go insane

this ask wormed its way into my brain and made me write a drabble in record time. sorry if anything's worded weirdly, i was literally possessed while i wrote this whole thing.

Pairing: Werewolf!Chan x Human!F.Reader (one of the main pairings of my WereRoomies series). | Word Count: ~1k. | Warnings: Chris’ POV · curvy/chubby reader · primal play (can it be considered primal play when one of the parties involved is an animal already?) · breeding · unprotected penetration [piv. no barrier method, but the reader is presumed to be on birth control].

minors do not interact.

It was rare for Chris to take you to his house in the woods on your own. Typically, the entire pack would come for their monthly run, but every once in a while he needed to come check on the place to make sure everything was in order–the amount of times he’d woken up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night with the sudden thought that he didn’t turn off the lights before leaving during their last trip were too many to count at this point.

This weekend, Chris decided to take you out on a little escapade, just the two of you in his big house. You both had been working nonstop the last couple of weeks, between that and pack duties you’d hardly had any time for yourselves as a couple, so he was more than needing his alone time with you, to disconnect from everything and everyone else.

So here he was, doing the final checks on the house to make sure everything was fine before he could finally join you wherever you were in the house to lounge around and snuggle and hopefully have some delightful sex later in the evening.

“Baby, have you seen the–the…”

Walking into the living room, and seeing you all of a sudden like that, sitting on the dining table of all places, was something Chris did not expect. His mind short-circuited immediately, and the fact that you had the nerve to gasp and act surprised as soon as you spotted him wasn’t making it any better.

“Oh, my… Seems like I’ve found myself in the wolf’s lair. What am I gonna do now…” You brought your hands to your cheeks, which only squished your breasts further together, all garnished with the fakest look of concern he’d ever seen on your face.

That bra was barely even a bra, it was just a couple of pieces of fabric tied around your neck by thin straps, it did absolutely nothing to keep your breasts contained. It was white, too, practically transparent. The bottoms weren’t much better, also a barely even there piece of fabric that did incredibly poorly at covering your plump centre. But the worst pieces of all were the white and pink suspender belt, with the matching stockings over your mouth-watering thighs, and the goddamned bunny ears on your head.

Something stirred deep inside of Chris, something just so incredibly dangerous, something he just knew was exactly what you wanted to awake with this entire set-up of yours.

Prey, prey, prey, prey, prey…

What kind of boyfriend would he be if he denied you of your fun? So of course he played along. 

“Aww, poor little bunny got lost?” Chris cooed, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning on the door frame, staring you up and down.

You bit your lip, nodding. “You’re not gonna do anything bad to me, right?”

Chris took a deep breath, and he got almost winded by the scent of your arousal lingering in the air. “Well… That depends, pretty bunny…”

“On?”

A smirk made its way onto his face, and Chris could already feel himself straining in his briefs. “On how fast you can run away from me”.

You bit your lip and whimpered, looking almost scared. 

There was a moment of you staring at him, and Chris staring at you… A moment of silence that fed the tension in the air. In an instant, you were getting off of that table and bolting out of the room, letting him see the fluffy tail attached to your bottoms, and he could feel the fine hairs on his nape stand on end.

Chase, chase, chase, chase, chase…

Chris immediately ripped his t-shirt off of his body and chased after you. He was suddenly feeling incredibly warm, and he could feel his instincts further clouding his reason as he looked at your form trying to get out of his reach.

He let you off easy for a few minutes, revelling in the deep breaths you took, in the way your heart was racing inside your chest, and in the smell of your scent taking a hold of every single one of his nerve-endings. Until he just couldn’t take it anymore, he needed to catch you, to show you your place and make you submit.

After a while of running and hiding around the house, Chris finally caught up to you on the upper floor, right after climbing the stairs–his shorts had been discarded at some point during the chase, he didn’t even notice when he’d removed them, and he, honestly, also didn’t care.

With a tight hold on your waist he pushed you against the nearest wall. He would’ve felt bad by hearing the whimper that came out of your mouth as soon as your back hit the wall, but, at this point, he knew your limits, he knew how to read your body language, he knew the exact word you would use if it all became too much for you, and, especially, he knew when you were putting on an act. 

With a hand cradling the back of your head, he tilted it to the side, making himself more room to shove his face in the crook of your neck, to prod at your pulse point with the tip of his nose and get a proper whiff of that scent of yours that made him delirious, especially now with how horny you smelt, with his senses enhanced by the chase.

“What now, bunny?” Chris mumbled. He licked a stripe up the expanse of your neck, relishing the taste of your skin under his tongue, and he felt you shiver with the motion.

You swallowed, taking a deep breath. “What are you gonna do to me? I’m just a poor, innocent bunny that got lost…”

“Are you, now?” Chris brought his free hand to the ears on your head, feeling the soft fur between his fingers for a moment, only to finally move that hand to your side so he could drag it all the way from your ribs down to your hips, relishing the goosebumps that rose under his touch. “And what was a pretty bunny like you looking for so insistently you ended up lost in my lair?”

“A partner”, you replied simply, although your voice got a bit shaky when he started to toy with the string that tied your underwear in place. “I just…need to be bred so badly”.

Chris could’ve fainted with how fast blood rushed from his head to his crotch.

“Oh, sweet, sweet, bunny”, he dragged his teeth down the length of your neck, until he finally found a spot to suck the first of many love bites he was ready to leave on your skin. “I can give you exactly what you want… I’ll pump you so full, pretty. Just how you need”.

“You will?” You reached for his hips, and the warmth of your hands on his bare skin was further feeding that pool of desire in the pit of his stomach. “Is the big, alpha wolf going to put his pups inside me?”

God, he might’ve been the predator, but you certainly always had the upper hand, and Chris knew you were aware of it. You always knew what to say to get him to react, to get exactly what you wanted, and he was ready to fall for it every single time.

Chris leaned in closer, close enough he could feel your lips brush against his own when he spoke. “Only if you ask nicely”.

You moved your hands from his hips to his ass, squeezing generously. “Please… Please, I need your pups so bad. Please, breed me, alph–”

A squeal left your lips when Chris took a hold of your hips and turned you around all of a sudden. He just couldn’t take it anymore, not after all that had transpired since he spotted you on that table downstairs.

With a hand on your upper back, he pressed your chest further into the wall as you pushed your hips back towards him, giving him the delicious sight of your round bottom in that barely there piece of underwear with the fluffy tail, and the way your soft flesh dipped under the taut straps of your suspender belt that held the stockings on your legs almost made him dizzy.

Chris spat on his free hand and smeared the saliva all over his length. Pulling your underwear to the side, he got a perfect view of your soaked folds. Clearly, all the running around had been a good warm up for you, too, and he was almost trembling in anticipation.

In normal circumstances, he would’ve probably stretched you out first, even loosen you up with his mouth and his tongue. But these were no normal circumstances. He could barely think straight at this point, all he knew for sure was that he needed to be inside of you and give you the pounding of your life.

Breed, breed, breed, breed, breed…

You whined once he started to push his cock inside you. The feeling of your warm, wet, tight walls stretching over his length had him rolling his eyes to the back of his head. He might’ve worried he was hurting you, but he knew by now that when you reached back for his hip like you were doing now, almost like you were urging him to ram himself into you already, it meant you were doing just fine, so there wasn’t a single spark of worry in his hazy mind just yet.

As soon as he was fully sheathed within your warmth, he nuzzled your neck, holding the soft skin of your hips tightly in his hands. “Don’t worry, pretty bunny. I’ll give you what you need. All of it”.

© therhythmafterthesummer 2023. all rights reserved. do not repost or translate my stories.

figured i’d tag anyone that wants to be tagged in my wereroomies instalments. if you don’t want to be tagged in little ask responses like these let me know !

@raspbinniecreme · @staaa96 · @oiminho · @straylightdream · @starshine-moon · @biribarabiribbaem · @100layersofdaddyissues · @dearalice · @alexis-reads-fics · @xcookiemonsteer · @knowleeknow · @chanlovesme · @liminaldaydream · @sstarryreads · @svngiem · @notastraykid · @princelingperfect · @violetpenguinkris · @leedunno · @peepeepoopooharrie · @aestheticsluut · @skzhomiehopper · @cessixja · @mimzibee · @hipsdofangirl · @djeniryuu · @floatingcoffecup · @minnysproutgriffinteddy · @moonmooncr · @phobia0325 · @leebitsimpracha

[dfortrafalgar]

Catch Up

Law x Fem Reader

You might have met your soulmate while intoxicated, making out with him in a dark broom closet. But the only thing you left with was his first name.

Warnings: MATURE CONTENT, MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED!!!, reader is meant to be over 21, bar crawl setting and responsible alcohol consumption

--

A/N- I'm still (still!) working on requests, and posting un-posted fics from my google drive in the meantime. I'm hoping to have my inbox open once again at the end of the month, or perhaps early June, now that my work/life balance is adjusting properly since starting my new job! I'm really sorry to those who have been hoping for consistent fics from me, i really wish i could write as much as i was recently but i'm still trying really hard!

[Also posted on AO3]

Chapter 1

[Next]

It was hard to convince yourself that you weren’t just the slightest bit tipsy as you kept your head lowered and channeled all of your focus into making sure your feet walked in a linear path.  How many bars had you gone to again?  Four?  Five, maybe?  Your body swayed slightly with your gait as your mind scrambled to catch up with the last drink that you had.  It was only a cocktail, as all your other drinks from your bar crawl were.  Was it mango-flavored?  What street were you even on now?  You blindly followed the two women in front of you whose voices were gleefully mocking the words you had said some hours before the sun had gone down.

“‘I’m not a lightweight, never have been!’” chided Ikkaku, eyes crinkled in a smile as she poked fun at your previous confident statement.  She tossed a glance over her shoulder where you walked only a few steps behind.

“I’m not a lightweight!  My voice isn’t even slurring yet!” you fought back, increasing your speed to keep pace with your best friends.

“And what was the last drink you had?” Nami asked, pulling her phone out of her bra to check her map.

“A mango margarita,” you confirmed.  “With a little lime wedge and a mint leaf for a garnish.  The place was called Elgia Lounge and it was on–”

“Okay, okay, you’re not drunk!  We surrender!” laughed Ikkaku.  “I’m glad you’re not, though, because this next place apparently has some of the best pineapple daiquiris in the entire city.”

Your mouth started watering immediately at the thought.  You were always a sucker for sweet cocktails, arguably some of the most dangerous drinks due to the way the tangy, sour mixers completely blocked the taste of any alcohol added.  Sometimes, it was impossible to tell if there even was alcohol in the glass, but with the way you walked, there was obviously more than enough from your previous locations.  You hadn’t quite passed the threshold into drunk territory yet, but the image of a sweet and tart pineapple daiquiri might just be the thing to completely inebriate you.

Nami stopped dead in her tracks and looked towards the congested buildings immediately to your right side, scanning the signposts in the dark and looking for a specific one.  Tucked in between two sports bars, with absolutely zero signage on the graffiti-covered door, the red-head nodded her head toward the unmarked entrance.  “This is it.”

“Nami, you’re going to get us killed,” Ikkaku murmured, eyes squinting at the door to spot any indication that this was indeed a speakeasy and not a hidden trap house.  

“Am not, I swear this is the place!”

The three of you approached the steel door, Nami confidently being the one to ring the doorbell that was attached to a small intercom system.  It took a few breathless moments of mild worry before a voice filled with static came through the speaker.

“Password?”

You and Ikkaku were both blindsided as Nami crossed her arms over her chest and loudly proclaimed, “Suck my big, fat cock.”

Another few seconds of silence followed before the lock on the door clicked open and the same voice from before spoke, “Come in.”

“What the fuck,” you muttered in shock.

“Told you it was legit!” Nami chided with a giggle.

“A place that makes you say, ‘Suck my big, fat cock,’ as a password doesn’t seem very legit to me, but I’ll take your word for it,” Ikkaku mused as she followed Nami through the door and down a flight of stairs only illuminated with blue and pink fluorescent lights.

Graffiti completely covered the entire interior of the stairwell, leaving no part of concrete untouched from colorful ink.  Even the ceiling above you was marked in elaborate, incomprehensible swirls and zags of paint of all different colors, made even more colorful in the odd lighting.  The stairwell seemed to last forever as you followed your two friends down into the underground, clutching the steel railing for dear life as your tipsy vertigo fought with your ability to walk down a flight of steps.  You finally reached the bottom to another door, this time lined with a soft, cushiony leather fabric.  Nami pulled open the door and greeted a black-clad man standing in the small room directly behind it.

“IDs,” he grumbled.  Straight to the point.

The three of you fumbled through your purses for your driver’s licenses before handing each of them over to the man for a review.  He clicked on a pocket flashlight, scanning each card, handing them back to you with a hum.  “Enjoy the night, ladies.”  His large hand pushed open another door that was hidden in the wall itself.

The room that was opened to you was unlike any of the other bars you had entered, both during your current crawl and in your entire adult life previous.  The room was cloaked in a sexy blue and pink lighting, decorative art of pin-up models framed on the walls along with retro-inspired neon signs and liquor branding.  Groups of people filled the tables nearby, laughing and drinking through the booming music that flowed freely through the space.  It was crowded, almost overwhelmingly so, but you squeezed close to Ikkaku’s back as you pushed your way through the other patrons to get to the bar.  Your hand accidentally grabbed Ikkaku’s ass as her shoulder bumped into your breast, both of you wheezing out surprised laughter.

You popped through the stream of people to the bar which was, unsurprisingly, completely filled with every seat taken.  Two men worked tirelessly behind the counter, filling shakers with liquor and mixers, bitters and juices.  A bin of assorted fruits sat open in front of patrons, allowing the bartenders to grab their garnishes quickly and decorate their glasses with expert precision before passing them off to elated, tipsy customers.  You, Nami, and Ikkaku squeezed yourselves into the far corner of the bar, between the counter and a booth of patrons.  

“At least we can stand here!  It’s a bit crowded but it’ll do for now,” the red-head yelled through the shaking stereo that sat nearby.  

One of the two bartenders waved his hand in the air to attract your attention.  Long, spikey auburn hair framed a sharp face and crooked nose.  You were confused at the angular sunglasses that covered his eyes, but paid no mind in the end.  His voice cut through the music, but was clearly worn after a long night of screaming at people because of the volume.  “What can I get for you, ladies?”

Nami handed the man her credit card, explaining that she was going to close out after one drink for each of them, which he gladly accepted and placed in a secure box by the register.  Your eyes frantically scanned the illuminated menu above the bar, the raunchy, debauched names of the signature cocktails revealing absolutely nothing about their ingredients.  

“What the hell is a ‘Fuck Me Sideways?’” you shouted towards your friends.  

The man behind the counter cackled.  “That’s a pineapple daiquiri!  It’s sour as fuck, hence the name!”

Your mind flashed back to your conversation from the street, mouth once again salivating at the thought of the tangy, delicious concoction.  “I’ll get that please!”

The man memorized your three orders and immediately got to work.  You watched idly as he nudged his coworker’s shoulder and alerted him of the order so he could help with making your drinks.  It was then that your eyes trailed to said coworker.

All sound in the room faded into a muffled nothingness as your eyes narrowed on the other bartender, pupils dilating.  Toned, tanned arms and hands were littered in elaborate, grungy tattoos, and you could tell with the way his worn t-shirt dipped below his collarbones that he had another large piece on his chest, defining his pectorals even from beneath his clothing.  His jawline was sharp, a small goatee defining his chin, black sideburns framing his perfect face as intense, golden eyes focused on his work.   His tongue poked out from his thick lips slightly, revealing a tiny glimpse of a stud pierced through the muscle, and giving his intimidating appearance a sudden adorable qualm as long, deft fingers poured shots of liquor into his metal shaker cup.

You barely noticed the fingers snapping in your face.

“Hey, Earth to Apollo!  Can you read me?” Ikkaku hollered directly in your ear, shaking you out of your trance.

You jumped in surprise, music fading back into your consciousness as the sound of Nami’s laughter brought you firmly back to reality.

“Looks like someone’s got the hots for the emo bartender over there!” sang the red-head, leaning against the wall and making a very lewd gesture with her hands.

You grumbled.  “Do not!”

“Whatever you say, princess,” Ikkaku chuckled in response.  “He is pretty cute… if you don’t make a move I might.”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” you growled, making your best friends roar in laughter.  A rush of blood filled your face with an embarrassed heat.  “He probably already has a partner, a guy as hot as him can’t possibly be single.”

“There’s only one way to find that out, and it’s to talk to him,” lectured Nami.  “Come on, you’re on a bar crawl, you’re drunk, you’re hot, your pants make your ass look fucking amazing.  I would look the other way if you dragged that hunk to the bathrooms.”

“Nami!  Shut up!” you screamed, thoroughly embarrassed now.  It’s not like anyone could hear your conversation amongst the intense volume of the room, but the subject matter still made you flush from your tailbone to the crown of your head.

The conversation dissipated into enthusiasm about the location, the three of you taking note of the sex-positive decor and how good the playlist was.  Every once in a while, your eyes would dart back to the raven-haired man with his eyebrows furrowed in deep concentration as he filtered a cocktail through the metal strainer and into a slim, iced glass.  He reached forward into his box of garnishes, procuring a thin lime wedge and expertly slicing it down the middle to perch it on the rim of the glass.  As you were staring at him, his eyes darted up directly meeting yours.  Your face flushed red hot with embarrassment, but before you could yank your gaze away, he flashed you a grin that had your legs quivering.  He held up the drink.  It was your’s.

You pulled away from Nami and Ikkaku who hardly noticed your movement as you approached the bar and reached between two peoples’ shoulders to grab your cocktail from the man who kept his deep, golden eyes on your form the entire time.  An elated, cold sweat ran up your spine and you flashed him as good of a smile as you could through your ceaseless embarrassment that he had caught you staring.

Once the drink was in your hands, he tossed you a wink.

You hobbled back toward Nami and Ikkaku who were already holding their own orders, sipping idly through their conversation.

“You look like you got spooked by a ghost or something!” giggled Ikkaku, squeezing your left cheek with her fingers.

“Ikka, that hot emo bartender gave her her daiquiri!” Nami replied for you, making the curly-haired girl gasp in excitement.

“Did he say anything?  Did you say anything?”  The questions rolled off of her tongue faster than your heart rate.

“He just winked at me, and smiled, I guess,” you stated through nervous breaths.  

Your best friends dragged you into the conversation that had developed in the short time you were away getting your drink, but when you tossed another glance over your shoulder, you once again locked with golden eyes that froze your feet to the ground.

—

You weren’t exactly sure how much time had passed over all, but it couldn’t have been more than an hour.  You and your friends finished your drinks, closed out your tab, and proceeded to the dance floor to burn off energy under the neon disco lights and pounding music.  You let your mind stray away from the bartender’s piercing glare while you moved your hips against Nami’s, the two of you poking fun at Ikkaku from afar as she found herself in an awkward dance with a random man who was far from her type (that is to say: not a woman).  The room was dipping slightly around you, the sweet pineapple daiquiri definitely making you tipsier than you wanted to be.  You didn’t have to pee at that moment, but you figured it would be worth a shot to sober you up even just slightly.  With a nudge against Nami’s shoulder, you pointed to the bathroom, mouthing your intentions, and waved to her as you walked toward the back of the room through the sea of happy, alcohol-fueled patrons.

The bathroom was situated behind the bar past a few rows of small booth tables, and the further you walked from the center of the lounge the more the music faded to a much more tolerable volume.  The walls remained lined with graffiti, which you trailed with your eyes as you walked, marveling at the tantalizing swirls of colors and personalized messages and names memorialized forever on the concrete.  You finally rounded the corner into the small corridor where the two single bathrooms were found, along with a single broom closet that was kept closed with a padlock.  Your feet blindly led you towards one of the bathroom doors that was cracked open.

“You know, those pants make your ass look phenomenal.”

A husky voice stopped you in your tracks.  A million thoughts rushed through your mind within an instant.  Who was talking to you?  Did you get followed to the bathroom?  Were you being watched?  Were you in danger?  Should you have brought your purse with you instead of leaving it with Nami?  Were you going to make a run for it?

Fighting against your flight, you turned around to face the voice that cut through the muffled music.

Intense, golden eyes, raven-black hair, and a sly, toothy smirk.

“Sorry if I scared you, I promise I didn’t follow you back here,” he added, his face morphing from a flirtatious, mischievous expression into a more apologetic one.  “I had to take a piss, too.”

“Oh, it’s no problem, really!” you replied, inwardly wincing at how your voice involuntarily quivered with excited anxiety.  The Hot Emo Bartender was standing in front of you.  Had he just complimented your ass?  “And, uhm, thank you!  For my ass.  I mean, for saying I look good.  Or, phenomenal, I think?”  You pinched your lips shut forcing yourself to cease your drunken rambling, but your reaction only made the man’s mouth curl into a grin as a laugh bubbled out of his throat.

“Go sober up in there, princess, then we’ll talk.  I’ll wait for you out here.”  The man ended his sentence by entering the second unoccupied bathroom, closing and locking the door behind him.

You quickly did the same.  The bathroom had the exact same aesthetic and lighting as the rest of the establishment, the mirror completely covered in graffiti and leaving little room to view your current appearance after you finished your business.  You gazed through the dried ink, fixing your hair with your fingers and pushing your boobs into place under your top, blowing an encouraging huff out of your mouth before washing your hands, drying them, and exiting the bathroom into the corridor once more.

The man had indeed waited for you, leaning nonchalantly against the wall with one leg up checking his phone.  He was tall, much taller than you, and his legs were long and skinny, complemented beautifully by his tight, bespeckled jeans.  The spots were definitely an odd aesthetic choice in your mind, but you couldn’t complain.  Somehow, they suited his vibe perfectly.  He picked his head up and looked you up and down, that charming, mischievous grin once again returning to his lips.

“Feel better?”

“Absolutely, I didn’t think you’d actually wait out here,” you confirmed.  Somehow, your voice had evened out from the anxious drunken stupor you sported before.  Maybe pissing out the alcohol did have its merits.

“Good, I wanted to talk to you but needed to see if you were too drunk first.  Those pineapple daiquiris are really something,” he explained.

You were very quickly gaining more comfort in his presence, isolated from the club beyond the corridor in the dim lighting that accentuated his cheekbones and gave him the sexiest aura you had ever seen.  You swallowed your pounding heart and returned his grin.

“Talk to me?  Out of everyone here?” you questioned, putting on your charm.

“I don’t just talk to any random bar patron,” he responded.  “In fact, I barely talk to anyone here at all.  But how could I pass up such an alluring face?”  He stepped across the corridor to you, reaching out a hand that smelled like the generic brand soap in the bathroom.  His callouses tickled the fine hairs of your cheek and chin.

“And ass?” you asked innocently, clearly enjoying the little game you two had initiated.

“And ass,” he repeated.  “Though…” his eyes trailed up and down your body from his closer angle, eating you up through your clothes.  “You’re definitely the most stunning girl I’ve ever seen, all around.”  His golden eyes met yours once more.  “You have beautiful eyes.”

He had done it now.  You were beyond flustered, convinced that your entire body was glowing red and steaming like a geyser from your anticipation and embarrassment at his tender compliments.  A part of you still wasn’t convinced that he wasn’t the type to talk up every woman at the bar, but Nami’s words from prior bounced through your skull.  You were drunk, you were hot, and damn it, your pants did make your ass look good!  You only live once, right?

With alcohol and adrenaline fueled courage you never experienced before, you closed the narrow gap between your bodies and pressed your lips against his, standing on your toes and grasping his shoulders to steady yourself.  The anxious voice in your head told you he was going to push you away, call you some horrible slur and leave you in the dust to regret every choice you made leading up to that moment.

You were very pleasantly surprised when his lanky arms looped around your waist, clutching you close to his sturdy form as he moved his lips against yours.  You weren’t an expert kisser by any means, but something about the way his mouth moved told you that he wasn’t actually used to doing this, more of a smooth-talker than a do-er.  He was reluctant to open his mouth to allocate for your tongue, instead simply pursing and unpursing his lips against yours.  The feeling made you pull away, failing to suppress the giggle that followed.

Before you had the chance to make any snide, lighthearted comment, however, a tattooed hand traveled down your arm and gripped your hand, dragging you toward the broom closet.  He fiddled with the padlock on the door without letting you go, shoving open the entrance with his shoulder and pulling you inside.  The door slammed behind you, now almost completely muffling the music blaring from within the club.  The two of you were now free from prying eyes that might wander into the corridor to use the bathroom, completely unaware of the actions taking place just one door away.

In the stark darkness of the closet, the man’s hands found the collar of your shirt and pulled it down as best as he could, encouraging you to slip your arms out and pull it over your head.  His lips pecked at your jaw, your chin, your neck, and the dip of your breast as you unhooked your bra and let it flop to the floor.  Your own hands grasped his ratty t-shirt and yanked it over his head, its loose fit making undressing his torso much easier.  Your fingers now had access to his bare skin, your breath hitching in your throat as you blindly felt around firm abdominal muscles that met a lean yet supple chest and broad shoulders.  Even through the lack of light you could tell just how attractive this man was.  A smattering of coarse hairs covered his chest and stomach, but for the most part he was well trimmed, save for the patch of hair that you felt at his naval.  You heard his breath catch in his throat as your fingers followed the dip of his pelvic bone and trailed along the belt of his jeans.

“Wait,” his airy voice muttered.  “I need to know your name.”

You laughed, divulging your information.  You felt his lips smile against the skin of your neck.

“I’m Law,” he added.

“Law…” you exhaled his name on your soft, aroused breath.  “Can you fuck me, Law?”

A low groan rumbled through Law’s throat as his hands now played at your own waistband.  “Anything for you, princess.”

[clumsybriar]

König x Fem! Reader — Stranded

König x Fem! Reader

Word count: 5,833

Notes: reader gets stranded on an island, use of (y/n), fluffy at the end.

———————————————————————————

(Y/n) wasn’t so sure how she had survived a natural disaster such as she did. But here she was, proof that miracles do happen.

Her eyes were blurry as the tears welled up in her eyes as she looked around the abandoned beach. No one was left in the small boat she had been traveling on. Her assumption was that she was the only one.

She thought she was alone and left to die in this hellscape no matter how beautiful it truly was. There was no time to take in the beauty when panic settled in her soul.

She was in pain and felt like she went through a terrible beating. Her eyes glanced back at the boat as she saw it washed ashore broken in half and clearly not being able to be sailed back into the mighty sea Poseidon ruled over.

She had just woken up a bit ago, finding herself ashore laying in the sand as her summer dress didn’t do a good job at keeping her cool in the sweltering heat.

She had a massive headache, and her body ached worse than anything. She had a few minor scrapes except for her forearms that had been scratched up a bit heavily either due to maybe the boat capsizing at times during the storm, or for other reasons when she was unconscious.

Her eyes glanced back at the boat as it was clear no passengers were left having been through such a rough water spout that had ripped the boat in half.

She was lucky she even survived this far. She hoped partially she would be able to live to tell the tale, but then again, she had no survival skills.

She was doomed. That was all she knew.

Why? She thought traveling by boat from Belgium back to America would be a fun little trip to end her Europe tour, but it ended up being a disaster, one she wouldn’t make again by choice and one she may not get to make ever again.

“Du bist endlich aufgewacht und hier dachte ich, ich müsste dich mit den Massen begraben.“ ("You finally woke up and here I thought I had to bury you with the masses.")

Her eyes glanced back at a large man who spoke another language she didn’t know at all. He was large and tall and quite frankly scary with that mask he wore over his head. He was garnished in medals and a military uniform with Austria’s flag on it.

He must have been speaking German.

“Katze hat deine Zunge? Sprichst du Deutsch?" (“Cat has your tongue? Do you speak German?”) he spoke as he knelt in front of you checking you over.

„I-ich, spreche kein Deutsch.” She uttered softly. “Es tut mir leid.”

That’s all the German she knew. That’s all her great grandfather had taught her when he was alive. He was from Germany and had migrated to America during the second world war since he was a Jew. From there he met his wife and her great grandmother who was a catholic and he was a Jew. It was a weird combo but they made it work and loved each other a lot.

“Ah, I see.” His English was amazing, he had a deep accent but he was understandable and that helped ease her mind.

She wished she could be fluent in another language but it was so daunting and scary to learn another language. Especially when English was such a difficult language and not like the other ones.

In the distance the sky was growing dark and hazy.

The soldier had been keeping his eye on it as (y/n) felt nervous and terrified. She didn’t like storms, and she didn’t like being stranded either. It seemed she was facing all sorts of fears today. How delightful.

He tended to the cuts on your forearm, having wrapped them up with bandages as he spoke softly.

“My name is König, yours?” His eyes looked up at her.

“(Y/n),” she said softly. “My name is (y/n).” She nodded. He gently tucked the cloth into itself as he tucked her arm close to her. He was being so gentle for being such a tall muscular man. (Y/n) had thought maybe he wouldn’t know his own strength but that didn’t seem to be the case. He was gentle and careful and made sure not to make any movements to scare her.

“Are we the only survivors?” She asked her eyes looking at the wreckage.

König's eyes glanced at her. He looked back at the wreckage. He seemed to be thinking about what to say.

“Do not go near the wreckage, we are the only survivors.” He said softly. She would heed his warning having a weak stomach was something she did struggle with, a reason why she didn’t watch movies like horror or thriller. Anything that showed disgusting scenes she was out for the count.

The universe seemed to be on her side leaving some military man as her other sole survivor. Maybe she would make it home one day. Maybe she would go home and see her family and hug her family cat again.

God how she missed that little devil that ran around at midnight.

Most of all she just wished she could close her eyes and wake up in her bed again, but she couldn’t. She was a long way from her bed.

Days and nights started to blur and she was left wondering if anyone knew the boat had crashed. Was someone on their way to rescue her and König?

“Come, let’s set up a fire.” König guided her to the little camp they had set up. Things were getting better situated as time went on. So far they had been stranded for a week, and König was keeping them well safe out here in the wilderness. He was the sole provider having years of experience being able to survive in treacherous areas such as this.

She was getting used to eating the animals he hunted though she did get queasy at the thought of some of them.

“Are you a part of the military in Austria?” She asked. For this last week it had been mostly silence. On both ends, talking here and there but not conversations. Neither of them had conversations.

“Colonel in the Austrian military, now an operator for KorTac, a private military that gets contracted out for whoever wants our services.” He said softly as his eyes never left the flame he was trying to produce with the flint he had found and the rock he had. He just needed to make a spark, that’s all he needed. “I was leaving a Austrian militia event and returning back to my KorTac base taking the boat.” He said softly, finally achieving the fire he wanted.

“Oh,” she smiled softly. “I’m surprised you traveled by boat, wouldn’t a plane get you home earlier.”

“Mmm,” he shrugged as he stacked dry wood up.

She felt like he wasn’t feeling very chatty and it made her a bit self conscious. “Tell me why you were far from home schatz?” His blue eyes looked up at her.

“M-me.” She said softly. “O-oh, well.” She got a bit flustered. “I took a big trip for work. I'm a travel writer for a popular magazine and I traveled to the UK, Denmark, Paris, and France and lastly Belgium.” She spoke quietly. “Then I booked a boat ride home with this company, back to the states where I could then go back to work.” She said softly. “It’s boring.”

“Mmm, no it’s quite interesting.” He said softly as he speared a few things of meat as he started to cook them for the two.

“I imagine my boss is wondering where I am.” (Y/n) spoke softly. “Probably writing emails trying to see if I stayed in one of the countries or if I’m ever coming home.” She smiled softly but it turned into a frown. “I miss home.”

König did too, he missed home as much as she did.

“Someone’s out there looking for us, I know.” He told her reassuringly.

“I hope so.”

The nights had started off warm, but now they were getting cold. König had said it was a storm blowing in, so he made their hut sturdy and kept her close to him at night time. Her face was nuzzled into his chest as she would sometimes listen to the ocean waves as they crashed against the coast.

“You're still up schatz?” König shifted a bit as his thumb rubbed against her back.

“Did I wake you?” She asked softly.

“No, Schatz, nein.” He cooed softly. “Just woke up on my own accord.” He hummed.

She nodded as she listened to the ocean again. König was doing the same thing as he rested a hand behind his head as his other arm was asleep, giving it up to her to use as a pillow. He wanted her comfortable, and she was. She was coming to rely on him and feel afraid when he left. It got to the point that she followed quietly when he hunted or stayed close by as close as possible.

“What’s on your mind tonight.” He asked softly.

“What tomorrow will bring.” She said softly. “Maybe a rescue crew.” She nodded her head.

“We can dream, but don’t get your hopes up.” He was realistic.

“Do you miss home?” (Y/n) asked as she looked up at him.

“I miss Home, I do, liebling.” He said quietly.

Outside random frogs were croaking and random animals were making sounds.

She was so grateful to have found a crystal clear body of water to bathe in not too long ago. Her and König would take turns and it made things so much better as she wasn’t feeling embarrassed about sweating as much. Now she didn’t mind being curled next to him as they slept. A week ago, she would have been repulsed and kept on her side away from König because she felt stinky and quite frankly didn’t want him to smell her body odor she had collected from her wonderful journey in the wilderness.

“In the little town I live in, there’s this bakery,” She hummed softly. “They make the best apple crumble.” She hummed softly. “I’m craving it right now.” She giggled softly.

“Mmm, and here I was craving a bratwurst and the best Austrian bier.” He chuckled, his chest rumbling and causing her giggle.

“Bier! Nein! Das ist nicht lecker.” (Beer, no, that is not tasty!”) she had been slowly picking up German from him. Having been near him for about three weeks he was filling in some words with phrases teaching her without any of them noticing,

“Oh, now you spreche Deutch.” He teased her softly.

“Picked up a bit.” She hummed. “Like…oh!” She cleared her throat. “Du bist ein stück Scheiße.” She paused. “You said that when you were angry at the fire.”

“Mmm,” he chuckled. “Language.” He patted her back. “Leave the foul mouthed cuss words to me.”

She giggled softly. “Yes colonel.” She smiled up at him. “I sometimes think about the people who are worried sick about me, like my mother and father, my sister, they have no way to contact me and I can’t contact them to let them know I’m safe.” (Y/n) said softly as she looked out at the ocean. “Do you have people at home waiting for you, worried sick?”

Her eyes traveled back up to him as her hand rested on his chest.

“Meine Mutter und mein Vater.” He hummed. “I call them every night, but they’ve gone a few weeks without it.” He chuckled softly. “Maybe they think I went on an important mission.” He hummed softly. “That’s all that would worry other than my team.” He said softly. “I’ll get you home, I promise.”

She smiled softly at his promise. “I trust you colonel.”

»»————-　♔　————-««

Finding a water source that offered crystal clear water had made things ten times easier. The ocean was great but it was salty and one couldn’t survive off of that unless they wanted to be dehydrated and dead by the end of the week with this sweltering heat. König had found that it was coming from a spring that trickled down from a mountain.

(Y/n)’s first thought was, it must not have been that small of an island, maybe they were on an island with civilian life. If that was the case then they needed to find people, find a town, something.

“It's not safe to leave what we created here.” König was stern when he said that. “We leave this behind, we risk having to survive in a new location that’s why we haven’t gone far.”

“But—“

“No buts schatz, what if you don’t have that spring water and it’s just saltwater bubbling up through the sandy terrain making a body of saltwater. Hmm?” König asked. “You don’t have fresh water now. Liebling, trust me.”

“I trust you.” She said softly as the two sat back down having lunch. He tucked her close to him as he nuzzled the top of her head.

“I’ll get you home, right now our best bet is to stick close to the wreckage cause that’s what they are looking for.” König hummed as his thumb rubbed soothing circles on her waist.

It was logical, you're missing a colonel and a boat full of people, what are you looking for, not random people walking around. A boat. You're looking for a boat.

She was ready to feel the grass between her toes and hopefully not the damn sand anymore.

Needless to say, she didn’t need to take a beach vacation in the next 10 years. She was all beached out. Three weeks felt like a lifetime to her right now, it felt like entirely too much time to be stranded.

Her and König, though, had grown a stronger bond. König kept watch over her, made sure she was safe, made sure she was well fed even if she didn’t eat all that much since she was cautious of the food. He could tell she wasn’t used to eating wild animals, fresh just hunted.

“You got a man waiting for you back at home.” König asked that night as they stared at the stars laying under the canopy of the sky. Her head was on his chest as she listened to his voice rumble from deep within his chest.

“No.” She said softly. “Just me.” Her eyes glanced up at the sky.

She didn’t have a guy or a gal waiting for her back at home. It was just her and her alone. She had been on a few dates but her job consisted of traveling often and writing, and potential partners just didn’t like the fact that she’d be traveling all the time if her boss sent her somewhere. They were self conscious, and that was fine. So it was just her, just (y/n) and it was okay.

“Mmm, such a pretty little schatz like you would be swiped up fast where I grew up.” He smiled at her.

“People don’t like the traveling I do.” She informed him. The sound of the ocean breeze blowing the palm trees behind them is comforting. It soothed her soul more than anything at the moment. It reminded her of nights where she would sit on her breeze-way and listen to the nature around her as she would read a book.

Part of her wished König would stay with her, part of her wished he would. He was charming and sweet and she felt like she was falling for him slowly. Maybe it was because they were both living such a traumatic event, like surviving a boat crash or trying.

She could remember the night the captain told everyone to essentially buckle up and go below deck because the waves were massive and a few times they capsized. It wasn’t a huge cruise boat that transported people, it was a smaller size that carried at most 30 people. Still, it capsized a few times and then things were over when the water spout had picked them up and carried them.

It was an act of Mother Nature telling them to get away.

She had nightmares of it, often, almost every night.

She could remember the fear as she laid in her bunk. She would roll with the boat hoping for some miracle especially when it capsized.

The captain had said there was no worries when it coasized because the boat was made to flip back over, but still it had a small window of failure. Not everything worked 100 percent of the time.

“People should want to travel with you.” König hummed. “See the world, they're just scared.”

She hummed softly. “You think so.” She thought about it for a second. “Maybe they are scared.” She agreed softly as she bit her lip. “Do you have a partner?”

“Nah, just me too.” He acknowledged. “Been just me since I joined the military.”

“What was the military like?” She asked softly.

König wasn’t afraid to tell her. He liked their conversations. Enjoying how the two could talk about anything and it was easy. He never had that with anyone especially with his social anxiety he had obtained a while back. He didn’t feel like he had suffered with his severe anxiety at all during this stranded journey. He felt almost at peace and he wasn’t sure if it was because of the lack of people around him or if it was physically her calming him down by just being near him. It was like a flip had switched off and he took to protecting her like it was the last thing he would ever do. He took the mission and took to putting his heart into it.

“I suffered from severe social anxiety,” he said softly as he kept his blue eyes locked onto the starry night sky. “Bullied often for it, so my childhood was one thing.” He tugged her closer keeping her tight against his side. His other hand rested on his stomach as he rubbed it softly feeling calm at the moment. “So at the age of 17, I joined the military, I wanted to be a sniper, but I grew to be too big to be that and I couldn’t sit still enough.” He chuckled softly. “So I was an insertion specialist. From there I rose from the ranks and became a colonel.” He hummed softly. “I just recently joined KorTac, it’s not like serving my country. It’s a weird thing, I’m not so sure how much I like it.” He rubbed his thumb in her back as he soothed himself and her. “But I’m not one to quit, I see things through.”

“As my dad always says, you have to give things time, feel it out.” She hummed agreeing with him.

“That’s a good way of putting it, schatz.”

»»————-　♔　————-««

More time had passed as they had now been stranded for exactly two months.

Two months.

(Y/n) was losing her mind. When were they coming to rescue her and König were they getting rescued? At this point probably not.

She wondered if anyone was even looking, were they out there searching, or were they sitting at home watching movies and kicking their feet back and forth giggling.

She was frustrated, and she knew König was as well, but he held it together for her.

He swallowed his anxiety that was slowly starting to creep into his system and tried to hold it together for her.

There were many times like now he had to walk off and let her know he would be right back so he could get the worry and anxiety out of his system.

He sat on a log in the forest a far enough distance away that he could still see her partially and hear her if he screamed.

He sat bouncing his leg as he whistled nervously trying to calm the rising nerves in his system. It was getting harder to fight off the anxiety and harder to fight the constant panic that surged through him.

His eyes flickered around the vast forest scenery. The area was beautiful, it would be beautiful to visit if traveling. Being stranded was a different story.

König took a deep breath as his leg slowly stopped shaking and he stopped fiddling with his military uniform. His eyes glanced back down at his hands as he shook off the fear that tried to consume him and he started to slowly make his way back to the camp they had set up.

Things were going to be just fines

He had to often remind himself that everything was going to be okay. That everything would work out in ways that it should.

He came back to camp to see the woman figuring herself, the fear that probably consumed her. The thought of her having been alone for a bit had terrified her.

He took a deep breath reminding himself to be calm and collected as he approached.

“Hmmm, Liebling, don’t fret.” König sat on a log beside her. “Gonna get you home schatz.” His hand rested on the back of her head pulling her into his chest. “I’ve kept us alive this far, gonna keep us alive for longer.”

She wrapped her arms around him as she hugged him tightly. She trusted him with her life.

Though it didn’t mean that she still didn’t want to rip her hair out of her head and cry nonstop. She was struggling and she was struggling with a lot of different things. Struggling with the idea of never making it home. Struggling with the idea of dying here with König, or let’s be honest even struggling with the idea she might just be König meal soon enough if they ever ran out of huntable food.

She didn’t want to be a snack to the Austrian giant. And it wasn’t even going to be the good type of intimate snack she was physically going to be his meal if they don’t get off this island.

Maybe it was a weird fear of hers, but it was logical…right? If they had to survive on this island for another 9 months. Fruit only grew in one season, and animals could only repopulate so fast. That was her logic and right now her logic was far from a normal person's logic.

It was a small percentage of her being his snack, but that one percent was still there. It was still there…

“Come let’s get a bath.” He cooed softly.

Bath time used to be one standing guard and the other one bathing and then switching. Due to her fear, it had become a joint event. Why?

(Y/n)… she had become so dependent on König she became fearful of being away from him for long periods of time.

Probably a reason why she thought she would be eaten first, get rid of the one who relies on the other.

She had to have König beside her even if that meant he had to see her naked body, she didn’t care at this point.

She scrubbed her shoulders making sure all the dirt and grime were off her skin. She paused as she looked back at König having felt his eyes on her.

She felt that cold chill and the goosebumps rise. She slowly turned around and surely enough König was staring at her.

“Something wrong?” She asked softly. Her eyes flickered from his bare chest up to his eyes. He had finally let her see his face, something she didn’t think she’d ever be blessed to see. Truly she didn’t need to see it either.

“N-nothing schatz.” He looked away embarrassed as he went back to scrubbing his own skin.

“He’s going to eat me!” She thought to herself as she turned around slowly. She was being so illogical right now. They still had plenty of food options. She wasn’t going to be a snack…yet.

“Here Schatz." König's hands brushed against her hip as she jumped slightly. “Es tut mir leid, didn’t mean to startle you.” His voice was soft and gentle. “You okay?” He asked softly.

“M’okay.” She nodded as she leaned into his hands as they rubbed across her back cleaning her up.

“You’ve been jumpy more often.” He said softly.

She has been, she was just on edge lately, afraid she would never make it home.

“Have I?” She hummed softly as he brushed her hair from her back scrubbing her clean.

“Just a bit.” He nodded softly. When he was done he turned her around to look down at her. His large hands gently brushed her hair away. As he looked down at her face taking in her soft eyes that looked up at him.

His hands were calloused but gentle. She didn’t mind them touching her. It gave her a sense of ease and a sense of comfort.

Her head leaned into his large palm as she closed her eyes.

There was this sense of serene calmness at the moment, and neither of them minded. His forehead leaned down against her as he reassured her quietly.

“We’ll be fine, I promise schatz.” He hummed softly. “We will be just fine.”

She trusted those words. She had spent two months with this man. Two months of being close to him and bathing with him. Two months of practically being his own companion, a dependent one, but a companion nonetheless.

Her eyes looked at him as she gently cupped his face. Her body got smooshed against his as his hands found her waist.

Before the two could think straight they had their lips on one and another. It was a soft and tender kiss, one that had been slow and full of passion. The two had been cresting this bond over their time of being stranded. Starting with small conversation at night too laying close in each other's arms, now bathing with one another.

This had brought them together.

“König.” She said softly.

"Mein Liebling." He said softly.

“Thank you.” You said softly. “Thank you for keeping me safe.” She uttered softly.

“I’d do it all over again.” He hummed. “Mein Liebling."

»»————-　♔　————-««

(Y/n) helped König watch the food that was roasting over the fire. She was tucked close to him as she could her hands traced over his forearms as she watched the waves crash into the beach.

She felt giddy after the kiss they shared three days ago, though she was afraid to initiate another kiss though. To be frank König was as well. The two would lean in close and then get embarrassed and look away as if they weren’t just about to kiss.

They had more important matters right? Like getting off this island they had become stranded on.

“You have very beautiful eyes.” König hummed softly.

“Mmm,” a smile formed on her face as she looked up at König. “Do I?” She said bashfully.

“Ja,” he smiled at her.

“I don’t think they're as pretty as yours, yours are like the ocean.” She hummed softly. “I could get lost in them.” She spoke quietly. She leaned forward and cupped his face.

She was going to kiss him this time, there was no running away from it. She wanted this.

“Just kiss him, just kiss him!” She thought in her mind. It was a whole internal battle in her mind. She wanted his lips on hers, that’s all she wanted.

“What is it, schatz?” He asked softly. He touched his face thinking there was something in it.

She lurched forward and kissed him. Her hands found their way in his hair as he tugged her closer.

“You like to tease me schatz.” He chuckled as he pulled away looking at her.

“I don’t mean too.” She giggled as her soft smile graced him. He wrapped his arms around her waist pulling her closer.

“Sure.” He rubbed his thumb on her waist. “Sure.” He teased softly. His lips leaned down and snatched a kiss away from her as she.

The two stayed close to each other for the rest of the day, resting and gaining back some energy. They watched the ocean and chatted to one another about random things. They didn’t want the day to end, they didn’t want this happiness to end.

Yeah they were terrified but they didn’t want the happiness they served one and another to end. They always wanted to be with one another.

The world had other plans though, it always did.

Who knew that night the rescue crew would find them. Who knew it would be KorTac, pulling their colonel away from the woman who had been stranded with him. Pulling her to the other side of the helicopter to get checked over while soldiers talked to their colonel.

“König,” she uttered in fear as she pushed herself more into the corner. These medics surrounded her and spoke to her softly.

“Colonel König is needed for something,” a medic hummed as she tried to give a fluid IV to the woman.

“König,” she said louder, getting frantic. “No, no, don’t touch me!” She shrieked as she scurried back more.

It got König attention fast. He pushed his way out of the men that surrounded him and looked at the medic with a glare.

“Don’t you lay a hand on her.” He snarled as he quickly cupped her face in his hands. “Mein Liebling, Du bist okay.” He hummed softly. “I’m here.”

The medic watched as König gently sat beside (y/n), dehydrating himself, but instantly calming her down. The woman curled into his arms as she squirmed away from the medics.

“Colonel, we just need to give her an Iv.” The female medic spoke softly.

He paused as he looked at the medic then down at the woman who was hiding her face in the string Austrians arms. He sighed softly as he cupped the back of her head in his hands.

He knew she needed the IV, she needed the fluid and so did he. He nodded slowly as he leaned down to her softly cooing sweet nothings into her ear to ease her fear.

“They will not hurt you, let them give you the IV so we can get you some fluid.” He hushed her softly. “Hmm?”

“Okay,” she said softly.

(Y/n) had become so in need of König, she was afraid to be separated from him in general. She needed to be beside him the whole entire time. She was fearful, and he wasn’t going to lie, he was under a lot of stress when his men had surrounded him and she was nowhere to be found.

He needed her in his sight so he could make sure she was safe, he felt like it was his only duty. The helicopter ride was stressful for the two. Constantly being bugged when they wanted to slowly digest this moment that they were going home. They were finally going home.

“Your mama and Vati, they won’t be so worried now.” She said softly. “They’ll know you're safe.”

“Hmm,” he hummed softly, nuzzling into her hair. “Your mutter and Vater will be happy to see their precious daughter too.”

When reunited with family (y/n) stuck close to König afraid to move away as her parents greeted her. She was afraid this was all a dream and she’d wake up back on the island but this time, without König. It was as if she’d walk away, she'd be there again and she’d be alone this time.

“You're alive.” Her mother sobbed as her father thanked König himself,

“Thank you for keeping our daughter safe.” He thanked König. “We owe you everything.” Her father held tears in his eyes looking up at the Austrian who towered over him.

König looked at (y/n) then back at her father.

“You don’t owe me anything,” he said softly. A smile graced his face. “I’d protect her with my life every time.”

“Oh thank you, thank you.” Her mother cupped Kong’s face giving him kisses on his cheek. “We owe you everything, you kept our girl safe. You're both safe though, you're both safe.”

Kining smiled as he hugged the woman feeling a sense of comfort and love. He now knew where (y/n) got it from, both her parents were loving people.

Her parents had fallen in love with him right away, just like his parents fell for (y/n). They could see the connection the two had to offer for one and another, there was just this connection.

And they read the room correctly, because a year later the two were married, just having known this is what they wanted. They were content with one and another, happy, and felt safe with one and another.

Thanks to a little magic—traumatic magic—from Mother Nature.

»»————-　♔　————-««

“That’s how you met mama?” Their older son sat in the recliner as he watched his Vati put a coffee table together,

“That’s how I met your mutter, ja.” He hummed softly as he smiled. “Your gorgeous mutter couldn’t not fall for me when I carried her to the little shelter I made.” König puffed his chest out.

“He didn’t carry me, I walked.” (Y/n) smiled at her son. “Papa tells slight fibs, we did meet on an island, stranded, only survivors.” She hummed as she carried a little baby. “Two grueling months of papa hunting and keeping me safe.” (Y/n) cooed softly. “Papa, was scared but put on a brave face for mama.”

“Papa was brave?” Ryker asked softly as he leaned forward with his teddy bear in his arm.

“Papa is always brave.” (Y/n) leaned down and kissed König on the cheek.

“You're too sweet, schatz.” He cooed to her softly.

“Mama, did you like Vati right away?” Ryker asked as she sat down on the other recliner rocking the baby. Ryker hoped to her chair cuddling against her.

“Vati was very handsome, in his uniform, and speaking his native tongue to me.” She smiled at him. “But Vati and I didn’t connect until closer to the end of our very…exciting adventure.” She found key words to use for it.

“Mmm,” König smiled. “Vati had the looks then.” He added.

“Vati still has the looks.” (Y/n) added.

“So does mama,” he chuckled. “Pretty schatz.”

“Is he your hero?” Ryker asked.

“Yes, Vati is my hero.” She smiled. “And grandpa’s and grandma’s hero.”

“Your mama is Großmutters und Großvaters hero too.” König smirked as he had the table halfway built.

“Why?” Ryker asked.

“Yeah why?” (Y/n) cocked her head to the side smiling, curious of the answer.

“Because mama married your grumpy Vati!” He punched ticking Ryker as their son cried squirming on (y/n)’s lap trying to get away from his father. “Vati didn’t think he’d ever get married let alone to your uber pretty mama.”

“König,” (y/n) giggled as she cupped a hand underneath his chin gently tickling him. “You're such a tease.” She smiled.

“You tamed the grumpy Vati.” Ryker giggled.

“Mama knows how to keep Vati in check, at times.” She giggled, leaning forward and kissing the man on the lips as the baby cooed softly in her arms.

“My precious family.” He hummed against her lips. “You're my hero schatz.” He said softly as he looked up at her.

“I think we both know the hero in our story is you though.” She hummed against his lips. “You saved my life.”

“I’ll save you in every life.” He told her.

She smiled and replied—with a soft, “I know you will.”

———————————————————————————

Hi! I hope you enjoyed, this isn’t my greatest work but I enjoyed writing it! I thought it started off strongly in my opinion and then it dwindled but I’m still proud of it because we can’t have perfect days! Anyways, enjoy! ✨💕

[penvisions]

wish i never met you {a garnish one shot}

Pairing: Chef! Joel Miller x Professor! Reader (formally known as Bartender! Reader)

Summary: Fear of rejection and messing up so beyond comprehension makes you regret crossing the professional line and getting to know Joel as you do now.

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: canon typical language, joel thinks he's the one in charge but we all know it's really reader, religious contemplation, mentions of past trauma, mentions of bad family dynamics, smoking, consumption of alcohol, menstruation, talk of menstruation, blood, cramps, muscle soreness, unorthodox pregnancy announcement, reader is a hot mess, allusions to adult content, allusions to smut, mentions of past p in v, might need to add more if i missed anything!

A/N: wrote this as part of a fun, silly fic title prompt game submission from a sweet anon. it totally inspired an angsty din piece at first that i have in my drafts but then these two slammed into my brain and hijacked the idea. i just love them, your honor. i have so much love for them. NOW I KNOW THIS SUBJECT MATTER ISN'T FOR EVERYONE, I REALLY DEBATED POSTING THIS OVER THE LAST FEW DAYS BC I KNOW IT'S NOT EVERYONE'S CUP OF TEA but i feel like this is a good trajectory for these two, truly. i'm so sorry if anyone disagrees with the direction i took this in and i hopei t doesn't take away from the original series for y'all

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

“No, fuck off.” Was the quick response to a wide palm caressing over your back. You were hunched over your crossed legs on the couch, aware of how bad the position was for your posture. But it was the only way to find any relief on your aching back. You had thought it was cramps at first, really, but then you realized all the symptoms of your monthly cycle fell in line with something else when the bleeding never started.

“Excuse me, darlin’? You sure you wanna use that language with me?” Joel’s deep voice was tinged with an edge, giving you the chance to retract your expletives. You were never so outright with your denial, never wanting to deny the man a few feet away. But the way in which you had expressed it to an obviously exhausted Joel was maybe too bold for the late hour. But you didn’t take it, instead repeating yourself.

“Kindly, fuck off. Don’t touch me.” You pulled away from him, hunching lower under his hand to break the contact.

“That’s not much better, ya know.” Joel’s hands shifted to his waist, a thick brow raised as he took in the sight of you nearly balled up, the faint light of the screen lighting up your face as you ignored him.

A harsh contraction of your muscles had you groaning out, “I wish I never met you.”

“C’mon now, you don’t mean that.” Joel huffed, trying to keep his calm, but you knew it was hard for him even if you really didn’t feel all that good. You never took your pain or frustration out on him like this, it was always soft murmurs of ‘hold me’ or ‘can I borrow your warmth’. Never the way you were reacting now.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into y-“ His mouth snapped shut, eyes focusing on the screen. On the words you had typed into the search engine. Normally he would tease you over the typos, your fingers not working as quick as you mind for all the grace and focus you normally had to expertly wield a sharp knife.

 Your heart thumped at the sudden silence. The fizzling tension that had filled the room.

“Don’t!” You gasped out, slamming the laptop closed and shielding the device with your body completely.

“Darlin’…” You swore you could hear the cogs turning in his head. Thinking back on the depraved as desperate way you had been seeking him out when he returned home from a late shift at the restaurant even despite the haze of sleep, in the mornings before you had to peel yourself away to go to campus, the photos you had brazenly sent him without warning that had him shielding or turning his phone over throughout the day. Thinking back on the way you had been inhaling food at any occasion, none of your normal contemplation or silence after what you considered a binge. Thinking back on the way you had begun to complain of your work clothing feeling wrong and too tight on your aching body as you dressed in the morning.

When he moved to sit on the other side of the couch, far too close for comfort, you shied away and pressed your back into the arm on your end.

“Not gonna touch ya, you have my word.” He raised his hands placatingly, his expression so soft that the tears burst from you without warning.

“You do-don’t wanna touch me. Not anymo-more.” Hiccups jolted your body, making the skin you were already uncomfortable in tingle. “I ruined ev-everything.”

He regarded you with a small frown, his plush lips pulled down as he clasped his hands together in his lap. Just as he opened his mouth to speak the words flew from you.

“I remember what you said, on the line.” You narrowed your eyes at him as they echoed in your head.

‘It had been a slow day, prep and cleaning taking over most of the evening shift. It had been back before you had taken on a role in the kitchen. Sneaking fries from the bowl of them on the expo line. They hadn’t been hot or even salted, but they were better than snacking on the fruity garnishes at the bar.

He had been passing the time with who you hadn’t known at the time was his brother, Tommy. Who had driven into the city to help take a look at the empty lot beside the restaurant, both of them contemplating the construction of a patio. But they had ended up in the kitchen, hunger too strong a call.

While Joel was on the line, Tommy was beside you, sneaking fries with a wink in your direction. But you ignored him, focused on looking through the catalogue of one of your vendors. Trying to make a seasonal menu. But your ears caught the harsh grunt of the man your eyes trailed over in the midst of busy nights.

“Wouldn’t do it, no.”

“C’mon, you seriously tellin’ me you wouldn’t baby sit for me if I were to gift you with a niece or nephew.”

“No, ‘m too old. Hire a babysitter.”

“You’re full of it ‘n you know it.”

“Brother, a baby is a lot of work. Now, your baby? Even more so.” Joel leveled his brother with a look that silenced any other argument on the matter.’

The moment he realized what you were talking about, his brows flew up into his hairline and he breathed out a hearty chuckle.

“Darlin’, I was just givin’ him a hard time. You gotta know that.”

“I didn’t know you.” You stood up from the couch, body protesting the movement. Cupping a hand over your mouth, you breathed harshly as you tried to tamp down a bout of nausea. “And now that I do, I’m gonna have to consider literally everything on my own and I’m gonna hate how much it hurts to not know you any longer. I wish I-“

“No,” He sighed, brow furrowing before he pinned you with a serious expression. “You do know me now and I wouldn’t turn my back on you, on this. I’m in it, pretty girl, no matter what you decide to do.”

When you whipped away from him, shuddering breaths wracking your sore body, the crack of your voice on a sob spurred him into motion. His arms came around you slowly, giving you the chance to retreat if it wasn’t something you wanted. But you let him, the feel of his chest warm and soothing on your aching back. The push of his soft stomach comforting. His chin hooked over a shoulder, and he spoke in such a somber tone.

“Darlin’, I always thought I was too old to do this again. But I haven’t crossed fifty quite yet and the thought of you carrying my child, of loving me and my child. God, I would give anything for it to be our future. To see you blossom into yourself more, to show our baby the same devotion you give to everything in your life, you deserve somewhere to put all your love.”

One of his hands moved over the one you had on your middle. Holding you so secure, holding you both so secure.

“Joel…it’s a lot. It’s….we’re not even-“ You turned in his arms, facing him. His beautiful, open expression so full of love and adoration, all of it for you. Your heart melted in your chest, dripping low to flutter in your stomach. You weren’t even overtly religious, left over from the trauma of your childhood. Of being forced to attend mass and important holidays alongside your grandparents. The denial of your father never urging you to seek out a higher power in replacement. But the thought of technically being single and going through something like this. It made you afraid.

“There’s a ring in my sock drawer. Got it the day of our first do over date. ‘s why I was so close to the campus. It’s yours. I’m yours. This could be yours. But only if you want it.” Joel’s forehead lightly thumped against yours as he pressed in close. His breath a warm wash over your face, smelling faintly of cigarette smoke.

Looking between each of his eyes, searching for any hint of hesitancy from him it was quiet. When you didn’t find any, you felt a smile pull at your lips as you nodded your head in affirmation. Wet laughter bubbling up as his lips pressed to yours, a smile of his own for you to feel on them.

“But I still expect you to propose, can’t skip any steps with me. I know you think you’re hot shit with being crowned the city’s most prolific chef of the year but I swear to-“

He cut you off with another kiss, his moustache ticking your upper lip as he nipped at your bottom one.

“I don’t wanna miss any steps with ya, darlin’. I’m here for ‘em all.”

It was hard to ignore the stirring of other feelings in your body, drowning out the aches and pains. But when realization hit you, you pulled back with wide eyes.

“We’re gonna have to stop drinking and smoking!”

“We?”

taglist: @tuquoquebrute @jessthebaker @littlemisspascal @76bookworm76 @hiddenbabynyc @clevergirl74 @anavatazes @samiamproductions @sarap-77 @honeyedmiller @undercoverpena

[senawashere]

Love me like you do..

A/n: This is for @ohtobeleah 's Galentines day! And also my first fic for Tgm fandom🥳

3,7 K words.

Summary: A valentine's day night with Bradley.

Warnings: !!SMUT!!,MINORS DONT INTERACT.

Dividers from @saradika

You met Bradley 4 years ago on Valentine's Day.

Unexpectedly.

Valentines days were always hard on you,growing up with no actual love and getting not enough love with significant others and more… So you basically hated it.

But all you know is when you see him in the dairy and meat section of the mall store with that stupid wool sweater and his perfectly coiffed hair and you fall in love with him.

And look, for God's sake, he was thinking the same thing.

After talking about which milk tastes better and the best ways to cook beef, you exchanged numbers and promised to talk.

You remember your first date very well.

It was in March and he took you to dinner to an old but sweet restaurant. That night you understood what true love feels like.

And so it went. Flash forward to 4 years later.

In the first year of your marriage (and on the 4th anniversary of the day you met), you would celebrate Valentine's Day at home.

Bradley unfortunately had to go to work that morning, but that was good news for your little plan.

In the morning, you went to the market for the meal you will make in the evening, then to the lingerie shop for a surprise, and finally to the market for a few basic needs at home.

The sound of the oven's timer going out reminded you that you got distracted again, moving away from the mirror where you were wearing the pretty pink lace underwear, getting ready to be returned, hoping your husband Bradley will be home early.

You return to the kitchen to get the roast meatballs out of the oven you made and put your outfit together, pulling on a flowy pink dress that covers your lingerie set perfectly. You took the time to touch up your hair and makeup perfectly, making sure you looked good.

Getting beautiful for Bradley was so much fun and rewarding for you. The look on his face was always worth it when he saw you wearing perfect makeup and your body covered in beautiful fabrics that fit your curves perfectly.

When you regained your attention, you analyzed and plated the meatballs and homemade sauce with mash potatoes and creamy pasta, pouring in two glasses of red wine. They were placed on the dinner table until they looked perfect.

You weren't too fussy about such events, but you really wanted to make everything perfect for your first Valentine's Day as a married couple. As you put the last garnishes on your pasta, you heard the front door unlock and a smile immediately appeared on your face.

You resist the excitement rising in your chest and wait for Bradley to join you to present him with the meal you're so proud of.

He's getting closer, you're counting your steps.

You wait expectantly until he appears at the door with a smile after looking you up and down, holding a floral bouquet of red,white and pink roses.

“Happy Valentine's Day, baby,” Bradley greets you, extending the bouquet to the side and placing a gentle kiss on your lips.

“Happy Valentine's Day, my love,” you replied. “I love you.”

"I love you too, baby. You look stunning," he says, pulling away from you to get a better look and the flowers appear on the table to reveal yourself.

“Please turn around a bit, let me see you honey,” he added. You turned around holding his hand.

His eyes rake yours, taking in all your beauty. You see his eyes behind you still looking down, you realize he's very clearly staring at your hips.

"Is it the way you want to see it?" you teased and he looked into your eyes again, walking over and pulling you close.

“I definitely like what I see, now come so I can hold you forever,” he said, wrapping his arms around you and squeezing. You lose yourself in his warm presence and sway side to side with him, enjoying the feeling of being safe and protected by him in the little bubble that can exist within the two of you right now.

He muttered , softening his protests at separation, "I need to put these beautiful roses you bought for me in some water. Why don't you set the table while I do that?"

He rolls his eyes but knows he has to.

“Oh baby, did you make me our favorite meal?” he shouted from the dining room.

“Mhm, of course,” you added with a wink. After placing the roses in a vase filled with water, you walked over and sat across from him.

Dinner was looking delicious,candles were so pretty,you both were happy and hungry.

Bradley took a little piece from the pasta and moaned dramatically around the fork. “Mmh damn, it tastes great,” he complimented.

“Calm down buddy, save your moans for later,” you said with a wink and a laugh. You both ate, enjoying each other's company. Even when you were done eating, you stood there looking at your husband with silly little smiles on your face.

“Thank you again for dinner, baby,it was awesome.” Bradley said, taking your hand and planting a kiss.

"Of course I wanted this night to be special. I love you so much," you say, caressing his knuckles with your thumb.

"I love you so much too." He replies, looking into your eyes for a moment longer,

"Come on, let me clean this up and we can finish and go to our bedroom."

"Oh Lieutenant Bradshaw, are you trying to get me into bed? I'm an absolute disgrace!" You can't even get the words out without bursting into laughter.

“Very funny y/n, help me get the dishes to the sink so we can finish faster,” he says and you help him, realizing that you can’t get him to bed fast enough.

"Let's think about washing these later," he said as his arms went around your waist. "I think it is a great idea," you whisper into his neck.

He turns in your arms and places a big kiss on each of your cheeks and hands. “Okay, ı think it's enough,” he said, his grip on you is strong as he liberated you from bridal style to bed freedom, unable to stop himself from parting small kisses all over your face. Immediately he started desperately tearing off your clothes as he wanted you, naked look right then and there.

Even though he has seen you naked quite often and many times in a non-sexual context, your body has always been and will always be a masterpiece for him every time he gets the chance to glimpse at you.

"Relax, we have all the time in the world, let's slow down and enjoy this moment," Bradley said, holding his hands over his body. "It's Valentine's Day, I don't want to rush things. I don't just want to have sex quickly, I want to make love with you for hours tonight, okay?"

You melted right there when you heard those words in his raspy voice. It made you feel so loved and cared for, but it also made you even wetter than you already were. You started to feel uncomfortable because you could feel that the underwear you were wearing before was now sticking to you. You wanted to immediately take off the underwear that was more than just getting wet between your legs.

The fire that had already started inside you was now burning wildly with the desire to let this man have you the way he wanted. He took his hands in yours, smaller than his, and placed them gently around your waist, hoping to convey that you wanted him to be gentle and loving, too.

He pulled you closer and placed a kiss on the top of your head, knowing exactly what you meant. You are grateful that the love shared between you can be communicated without words, knowing exactly what the other means without having to guess.

Bradley slowly peels off your dress and throws it at the end of the bed. He gasped when he saw the pale pink and lacy lingerie you wore for him. His lips parted and his eyes widened as if he saw the most beautiful work of art, he looked at you for a moment. Seeing your face light up just from looking at your body made you feel so sexy and desired.

“Fuck, you're so beautiful baby. I can't believe you're all mine,” Bradley said.

Under his gaze, you felt the most confident you had ever felt. He places his hands back on your lace-covered waist and slides them up your sides, then back down, exploring the bow holding it together in the back. He touches you like you're a fragile masterpiece that he can't believe he's allowed to touch.

You both loved the feel of lace and satin under his fingers, and he moved his hands up and down your body for a few minutes. You let him in until you started to get so frustrated, the lace between your walls was soaked and you felt a little uncomfortable from the wetness.

You ask him to pull the lace out of you by moving your hands to the straps and giving him both ends. His fingers gently pulled at the ends of the bow to open you like a gift, watching as they fell to your sides. Now the only thing holding the dress together are the thin straps.

He hooked his fingers into them and carefully pulled them down your arms, making sure to leave soft kisses behind the straps. Once the straps were removed, your underwear fell to the floor, leaving you naked with Bradley's prying eyes.

The urge to see your husband naked has hit you hard now, so you try to take off his clothes as well, this time taking the time to notice how the fabrics feel under your fingertips and tracing your hands over the curves and lines of his body.

Now you are both completely naked and exploring each other's soft bodies with your hands, smiling at each other. You are drunk with love, drunk with wine.

"Have I told you I love you today?" Bradley asked.

“Hmm, maybe a few times,” you replied.

“But it's okay because I love you too. I love you so much. More than anything in the world.”

"In the whole world, huh? I love you more than anything in the entire universe," he protested.

You climbed into bed and cuddled up together, pressing your naked bodies together as you both giggled.

“You really mean the world to me and this relationship means a lot to me.”

"I couldn't get along better. I appreciate this relationship and you so much, you are truly the best thing that could have happened to me." you said, looking at him with love in your eyes. You lean in to kiss him gently, but soon your kiss becomes deeper and more passionate the longer it lasts.

Within seconds, your tongue is in his mouth and his hand on your waist is pulling you closer. If he had his way, you would have merged into one being at this point. And you definitely wouldn't mind being in his arms forever.

His hand reaches down to rub your hips, his thumb pressing into the space above the bone and his fingers gripping the fleshy part that meets your hip. He pushes himself into your touch and his knee finds its way between your legs, moving higher. His leg rubs against your sensitive thighs as you open your legs for him.

When his knee finally reaches its destination, he pulls you closer and you grind your pussy along his thigh. You stare at him hopelessly, fully seated on his leg. All your increased arousal suddenly rushes between your legs and you instinctively start moving your hips to give you some relief.

“Oh, baby, you want to make yourself feel good?” Bradley asks, pressing a kiss to your nose. You mumble to him.

Wanting to return the favor, you brought your hand up to where he rested on your thigh and circled your palm around him, giving him slow gentle tugs to see him harden in your hand. You feel his hot breath on your neck as he lets out a breathy sigh when your fingers play with his tip.

"I think that's enough, how about we take things one step further huh?" Bradley asks, laying you on your back and climbing on top, pushing some stray strands of hair out of your face. ‘’Because ı cant wait any longer baby’’

"Hm, what happened to 'I don't want to rush things' and 'I want to make love to you all night'? Where are they now that you tried so hard?" You ask. He plays with your nipple to watch you squirm a little.

"I want to make love to you. I just want to make love to you right now," he said, his finger slowly moving inside your pussy as he spoke. “I don't want to wait any longer, darling,” he pushed his last knuckle almost all the way in. “I want you now,” he finishes with the final thrust of his finger, now fully inside you.

He curls his finger so you can feel him caressing your G-spot, and you whimper because you want more of him to go a bit faster.

It soothes your satisfaction by adding another finger and your whole body starts to feel warm and tingly.

It's not just the added sensation of his fingers, but the warmth between the two of you that makes you feel like you're burning in the best way possible.

It's the look in his eyes that tells you how much he needs you right now.

It’s the way he kisses your body so softly and sweetly.

It's the way his other hand caresses your cheek.

He makes you feel like you're the most important person in the world when he's around you.

Overwhelmed with these thoughts, your breathing becomes shallower as his fingers speed up.

He leans in and kisses you gently, whispering against your lips to "breathe" and "calm down." You try to listen to him and take a deep breath, which is somewhat hindered by the increasing pleasure with your constant tantric breathing.

Bradley's kisses travel down your neck, leaving small hickeys, and across your chest to your nipples.

He circles one of your nipples as his tongue slowly sucks into your mouth as his lips form a seal.

He moves further down, leaving a trail of kisses, eventually coming to where he gives your clit a soft kiss for the first time, kissing it as if he's showing his respect.

He slides in and out of you, his fingers still wet with your wetness, as he opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue, making small licks from the tip of his tongue to your clit.

You just want to let out a sigh but what actually comes out is more of a cry.

You don't bother caring though, feeling safe enough to make all kinds of weird noises in front of your husband. You know he would never judge you for something like that. In Fact he loves it.

Bradley's tongue gets a little rougher this time and he closes his lips around the clit between each lick. It feels so good that you already see the stars.

You open your eyes and see that he is already looking at you, his eyes half closed, as if it gives him pleasure to see you like this. He makes eye contact and you don't dare break it, you love how good the closeness feels.The hand that wasn't stimulating your pussy reaches up your body to reach the hand that's currently gripping the white sheets beneath your sweaty body.

His fingers interlock with yours and you squeeze tightly because you don't want him to let go again. Your other hand grabs his hair and you pull him deeper.

He moans at the feeling and you can feel it going through him.

His fingers and tongue take you higher, squeezing your eyes shut, tensing your legs and hips, and involuntarily moving your thighs closer to him, sort of signaling him to go faster and not to stop.

Bradley's thumb hovers over your knuckles, a calm and comforting gesture among his other mind-blowing movements.

He slows down and gives your clit one last meaningful kiss, then undresses himself and crawls towards you.

“Hi,” he said with a grin, the lower part of his face glistening with your wetness mixed with his own saliva.

“Hi,” you reply with a breathy smile.

You lift your head and purse your lips, silently asking for a kiss. He laughs and gives it to you.

First a quick, gentle kiss on your lips, then a deeper, more passionate, slow and deliberate kiss. Bradley kisses you with all the love in him, communicating with you through his lips and tongue embracing yours.

He lifts your leg up to his broad shoulders for better access, then slowly pushes himself inside you so you can feel every moment.

Both of your mouths open against each other, unable to believe how good this feels and how beautiful this moment is with the love of your life inside you.

He fits himself completely inside you and waits there for a few breaths, giving you both time to compose yourself before your body asks you to roll your hips against his, signaling that you want more now.

Bradley thrusts as slowly as he thrusts, pulling out until just the tip is still inside, then presses his hips down to fill you once more.

A breathy moan falls from your lips and you are left staring at his lips.

Your hands cup his upper back and pull his body towards you, holding him as close as possible as you wrap your legs around him.

Your hips thrust deep into his cock with each thrust. You feel so overwhelmed by the sensations that you have to close your eyes to focus on breathing. One of Bradley's hands came up and caressed your cheek with his thumb, wiping away a tear you didn't even know you were crying from pleasure.

When you opened your eyes, you saw that the tears did not come from you, but fell from Bradley's eyes and onto his cheek. He cups your face in his hand and you can see the passion and focus on his face. (Hey, there needs to be a little drama in everything.)

Tears begin to flow from your own eyes when you see how emotional he gets from making love to you. You start to cry a little, not in a sad way, but in a way that the feeling is so overwhelming that it has to find a way out of you somehow.

You can feel how close you're getting, and he can tell you're holding back because you don't quite want to let go of this moment yet.

“Okay baby, it's okay,just let it go.” he encourages you. "You can just hold on to me and let go, I promise I have you. We have forever to make love with each other. Come on, I'm so close too, I want to finish with you". You whimper into his shoulder, biting your lip hard and letting go. You can feel him tense as he thrusts hard into you once more before letting go.

“I love you so much,” you let out, not even sure he could hear.

Everything is momentarily magnified.

You hold Bradley with all the strength you have left, and he holds you back just as tight.

Your pussy convulses around him with your heartbeat and you can feel his cum being released deep inside you.

Every part of your body shakes and tingles. The experience of sharing your orgasms simultaneously is magical. You feel like you're in heaven in Bradley’s arms.

Once you've both calmed down a bit, taking time to catch your breath and come back down to earth, he pulls himself away from you, but just enough to see your face.

He's not pulling away from you yet, he wants to feel close to you, so you lie there with him still inside you, wrapped in his strong embrace in the awkward but somehow perfect cuddling position.

“You are so beautiful,honey.” Bradley said with a lazy smile on his face, looking drunk on his orgasm and his love for you and also the wine.

You chuckle, knowing you probably look really fucked upright now. "You're cute and that was amazing. I don't think I've ever felt this way before," you say.

He kisses your cheeks, then your nose, then your lips. "Yes, it was really great. And it was really hot. Especially when you pulled my hair while ı was eating you out,"he says. Your pussy involuntarily tightens at the thought of Bradley between your legs.

“Hey, I felt that,” he teases, reminding you that it’s still inside you, something you won’t easily forget. You laugh, he buries his face in your neck, you feel a little embarrassed,blood rushing to your cheeks.

“Nah, no hiding from me, we just cried while fucking each other, nothing to be ashamed of really right now,” he says with her signature smile.

“Not fucking, making love,” you tease, mocking his previous words and he laughs along with you.

"Happy Valentine's Day,baby." he says, "I love you." He gives you a sweet kiss and you poke his nose with yours.

"Happy Valentine's Day, I love you too."

You lie with your legs and hands intertwined in the dim bedroom light.

A little silence is good. You leave a few more soft kisses on his cheeks.

After a few minutes, he gets out of bed to get some warm washcloth and starts cleaning you both up. He was so soft while doing this, you've never felt so in love.

That night, you sleep in your comfortable pajamas, holding each other and wondering how lucky you are both.

Maybe Valentine's Day was really worth it after all.

I'm tagging people who might be interested:@ohtobeleah @sebsxphia @callsigns-haze @sailor-aviator @sorchathered @greenorangevioletgrass @teacupsandtopgun @roosterforme @floydsglasses @floydsmuse @lyn-js @seresinsbrat @torchflies @its-dee-lovely @its-the-pilot @friedchips94 @bradshawsbaddie @hardballoonlove @perfectprettypisces

[alnilaem]

a toxic ghoap wip i had in my drafts from months ago but will no longer be continuing. i just wanna dump it here lol

cw for misogyny, smut, (internalized) homophobia, hedonism, sacrilege, prostitution mention, ghost is an ass

pls heed all tags, this was a vent fic, and also bare in mind im never gonna finish this lmao

-

Johnny's world is asymmetrical.

His world. His beginning and his end. Humvees and Dauphin 2 helis and deployments around the globe. Undercover operations, saving women and children, the comforting carbon steel of a rifle in his hands. 

It’s an unspoken stigma, but it’s there. Materialising as insults while his lads take the piss out of each other, and in the form of dishonourable discharges. 

The stigma has always been there. It has no start and no finish, so Johnny can’t remember where it came from, but he knows it was there since primary, where boys would kick girls at the bends of their knees and yank on their pigtails, squatting to the floor to get a look-see up their chequered skirts and cackle, all while Johnny stood off to the side, overtly uncomfortable. 

Mum’s complained. Teacher’s were involved. Dad’s simply said, “Boys will be boys,” and the situation was brushed under the carpet.

The stigma tailed Johnny into secondary school. His older cousin lent him a suit for formal, which prompted Johnny awkwardly standing on his doorstep with his date—a pretty lass named Rory—as his mam snapped a spate of photos. 

Johnny’s disposition was a grave juxtaposition to Rory’s. She was all grins and giggles, cantered into Johnny’s arm, while he was inelastically poised with tight lips. 

His mam wouldn’t stop pinching his supple cheeks, trying to shepherd a smile out of him. She gave up, throwing her hands in the air and wheedling them off the porch, tacking on an ornate, “Have fun, kiddos!” as they pooled into Johnny’s scrap metal car. 

Johnny felt as if he was lacking something. As if his wings had been clipped by the world a little too soon. It’s always been like that. A piece of him plucked from his wracking ribs and stolen, ever since he was a little boy. So in a lapse of judgement, in order to prove himself, to shatter the bubbling stigma, Johnny sought out the most masculine thing to offset his failure: follow in the steps of his cousin, and enlist. 

It was a rashly undertaken decision, but a decision he stuck with, because, for the first time in forever, Johnny’s old man clasped his shoulder in pride. 

But stigma was an incessant little thing. Because even in military school, it followed him closely. As Johnny’s school brothers had Playboy rafts and pin-up girls folded into their pillow cases, he would blunder upon being asked, “Who’d ye shag?” by his mate. 

In boot camp, he was a lowly private, whose hands would jade and cramp from cleaning rifles. They gave him blisters. And so his bunkmate—a nice lad from Glasgow with a crooked nose—would tend to his fingers during their lunch routine. Hidden somewhere in the corner, making jokes about their Drill Instructor. Callum, was his name. He’d swathe Johnny’s hands in gauze and garnish it with a lopsided smiley face. It always sucked, fell apart half way, but he did it anyway. 

That’s when Johnny started blistering his hands on purpose. 

Wedging his thumb in the dip of a garand and not pulling it out until it was swollen. Then he’d snivel, seeking Callum out in their barracks. There was a pull in Johnny’s stomach, half of an ebb that finished Callum’s flow. It would give him rashly undertaken ideas—such as fixing his hand in the lid of an armoury shell—for Callum to fix up. Johnny would find him among their other friends, beseeching with his cobalt eyes, holding out a hand.

In enlistment, his confusion ripened into a gravely miscalculated realisation. That it wasn't an affinity for men Johnny wanted to be—to attract ladies with his chest candy and the brandished title of military man—no, it reared its ugly head when Johnny finally became his own private. Grinning, at the time, clean-shaven and giddy as his mother snapped a spate of photos of him saluting in his new uniform, plaintively whining when she reached out to adjust his garrison cap because “It’s lopsided, pumpkin!” To which Johnny, under the searing gaze of his fellow privates, would clip, “‘Cos it’s meant to be like tha’, ma!”

Johnny didn’t know when it started. He just remembered realising how good Callum looked one day at the range—sweat sluicing down his pale neck, disappearing behind his lapels, ass filling out the space of his pants as he would squat to the ground and aim for the faraway target. Before he knew it, Johnny was seizing lights out. Using the time to sneak off to the bathrooms and cramp a fist around his leaking cock, beating his dick to the thought of him. Him, him, him. 

Johnny’s sordid thoughts didn’t emulate what his granny had planned for him—to pass down her old wedding stack once he “Found the right lass,” to bring home to her; it wasn’t what the Orthodox spiels of sermons and hymns and praise on Sunday’s drilled into him; it wasn’t what his uncle was anticipating—“Got a girlfrien’ yet, Johnny-boy? Ah, why’re ye frowning! Soon enough, ye will.”

His fantasies rivalled those of his squadmates. Because on his first tour, a summer ten years ago in the chilly expanse of Northern Ireland was a woman that approached them. Denim skirt and a mulberry red halter top. Kitten heels, sunglasses. Shiny lipgloss. She tried to ply them by batting her eyes, offering her services. She was smart. Military men always paid. It’s the desperation that got to them most of the time, a tinge of worry, and a hint of entitlement. They took the bait. Rode her back to camp and took their turns with her.

When it was Johnny’s turn, he listlessly declined and hung his head. He said he had a lass waiting for him back home—Rory—that’s the first name that popped in his head. His secondary school girlfriend in which he sobbed on when he tried kissing her. Johnny said he had a bird, just like all his other lads, with pictures of their wives and girlfriends pinned to the massive cork board in the middle of their camp. But they had no problem indulging themselves. 

They were shoving him around, calling him all sorts of names, bullying him into following them. And that’s when Johnny caved. A cacophony of hollers flared out around him as he ducked into the tent where the woman lay, thin bed sheets hiked up to her collarbones, her previous lipgloss smeared over her chin.

Johnny said, “Hi, how are you?” Because that’s what his mother taught him. She softly giggled. 

Not at him, but with his overdue respect.

Johnny shucked off his uniform with trembling hands, mounting her with his dick flaccid and stomach flipping. He remembers ruminating, “Why don’t you like it? You should like it. Love it,” but his heart leapt to his throat and his navel twisted, heart seized as the head of his cock kept slipping around her messy opening, poking her thigh. His throat constricted, dry, then slackened. A muffled sob wracked through him. Barely concealed by the threshold of his thin lips. He pushed his tongue into the roof of his mouth and buried his face in the crook of her neck, collapsing into her bare chest, furiously wiping his tears into the inflatable mattress.

Then, the body beneath him quivered. Johnny hoisted himself up, a spiel of apologies curling off of his tongue, when he realised she was crying too. The same type as him—wrung out, jaded, tired. She blindly reached out for him and pulled him close. Not reaching for his dick nor biting sensual whispers into his ear. They held each other for a little while, coalescing as their cries muffled into each other’s skin. Then, she pushed him off. Slid off the mattress and snaked her into her clothes. 

They both left the tent shaking. She was still sniffling. His lads cheered as she walked away and clapped him on the back. 

That’s when Johnny realised there wasn't a place for him in his world. Johnny shrunk himself, half the light he used to be, pushing himself into a little box as his world around him clipped off his wings. 

Now, Johnny’s world consists of something a little different. 

Something sinewy and rough around the edges. Gruff, but tactical. Calm, akin to the placid sea, but could flip a switch and emulate its choppy waters if he wanted to, too. Big, striking, with eyes that could kill a sailor. A deep timbre mandated by Manchester. Wide-set shoulders but a willowy waist, hips that sway as he walks. A macabre mask and skeletal gloves—ones that have Johnny wrapped tightly around his fingers.

Johnny grew into himself between serving in the parachute regiment to selection for the SAS. He got rougher. Learned how to hide himself better. Perfectly fit himself within the Task Force, around men who would become his best friends and brothers. He’s otherwise your normal guy. Goes to the bar with the team when they’re able. Shooting darts with Gaz (“You’ve got a Marksman badge but can’t score more than two points? C’mon, mate…”); pool with Price; and drinks with Ghost.

Beer always sloshes over the lip of Ghost’s glass when they clink their drinks. It crashes up and over the Brit’s fingers, dripping down his hands, between his thick fingers. Johnny always resists the urge to lean in close and lick the wash of alcohol glistening Ghost’s knuckles. 

But they’re just friends. Apparently. Because friends don’t fuck.

It started way down in Chicago’s heart, after another op. Gaz—ever the exploiter of his puppy eyes—managed to ply Price into stopping at a bar instead of heading straight back to base for paperwork. So they stopped at a little hole-in-the-wall, still rife with adrenaline, spreading out and all doing their own thing.

Johnny and Ghost were sat around a rickety table with wobbly legs. A spread of peanut shells around them and sticky rings of alcohol from their glasses glossing the surface. Ghost raised an arm to wipe his eyes, knocking over Johnny’s beer in the process. An expletive crossed the Brit’s tongue and he apologised, grasping a fistful of napkins and scrubbing it over Johnny’s soaked shirt. 

It ebbed and flowed in long, rough strokes. Ghost’s hand gliding over Johnny’s legs, Ghost’s middle finger and thumb snapped around Johnny’s thigh, his grasp cutting into the sinews. 

It wasn’t that different from suturing a teammate up after a mission. But with the unsaid admiration Johnny had for him, tempered by the hint of alcohol on the roof of his mouth and the hazel canopy of Ghost’s lashes, over his focused eyes, arousal quickly seized Johnny.

Ghost’s hand brushed over a tent on Johnny’s jeans. One that hadn’t been there before. He cut his next stroke from the root, pausing, and blinked up at his friend. 

The Scotsman felt a wound up spring in his stomach. He turned away, smacking Ghost’s hand, and ran a hand through his black tuft of hair, slapping both sides of his shaved heads. He felt his lungs betray him—squeezing like dried fruit and refusing to expand—to yield to his sudden heavy breathing and quick succession of heartbeats.

Johnny shook his head. Sputtering. “Lad, y’know, sometimes we can’t control ‘em–” 

The words died on his tongue when Ghost flattened hand against the bend of his knee. He was testing the waters. 

Johnny looked back, gulping, and took the bait. He inched his knee closer, until it met with Ghost’s thick leg. It’s something he’s done so many times. When he was starved for friction but couldn’t make it overtly obvious—grazing Ghost’s hand passing him a flare; knocking his foot under the table during debrief (“Sorry, lad,”); applying extra gauze to a slice in his torso just to feel Ghost’s chest throb below his fingers a little more.

But this is different. Something Johnny’s chased for so long. A tangible ghost on his tongue for a flavour he’s longed for with just fantasies while he fucked his fist late into the night. 

Ghost tightened his hold on Johnny’s thigh. “Sons of bitches, ain’t they?” 

His voice was taut. As was the muscle between Johnny’s shoulders.

They exchanged a glance. Soundless, but not wordless. Then Ghost slunk his hand down and wrapped it around Johnny’s swelling cock. 

The feeling of it—a sensation so foreign, so yearned for—penetrated Johnny’s core. It made him yelp and jerk his knee into the table, sending more beer spilling over the rim of his glass and onto his pants. 

Ghost hummed, shook his head. “C’mon, Johnny, let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” And he inclined his head towards the bathroom in the back. 

Johnny blindly nodded, yielding to Ghost’s hold as he hoisted him from his seat. Ghost directed them through the sea of gyrating bodies and towards the toilets. They bursted inside, and the Brit pulled Johnny into the last stall. A seedy little thing, with graffiti and the ash of cigarette butts welded into its walls. 

The succeeding acts were a blip in the streamline of Johnny’s memory. He remembers Ghost shucking his pants down, then settling himself behind him. He remembers Ghost’s gloveless hand reaching around and working over his drooling cock. He remembers a voice in his ear, “What the fuck are we doing,” and a bulbous cockhead poking his ass. He remembers the shrill rattle of the stall hinges as he withered against it, trembling under Ghost’s deft hands, the finger that swept over the slit of his cock and slipped down to fondle his balls. 

Before white-hot pleasure seared his vision, Johnny remembers emptying his come into the crotch of his denims, shaking, as it dampened his pants and as Ghost commanded him to pull it back up. 

They left the bar alongside each other, meeting everyone else on the pavement. Johnny’s lips were popped open and swollen. Peeling, from how his teeth had sunk into them. His eyes were glossy and his hair was tousled in the middle of his head. He had a wet patch on his jeans.

“Oh, you are pissed, mate,” Gaz exclaimed, “I– that’s pee?”

“Spilled some water,” Ghost lied to the other teammates, “had to sort him out.”

They made it back to base within hours, signing off to their quarters. 

The next day, Johnny didn’t see him at all. 

The day after that, too; Ghost didn’t even spare him a glance.

He tried reassuring himself. Ghost hadn’t talked about men before—not in this calibre—so Johnny told himself it’s because he was digesting what rashly happened in Chicago. 

That was, until, he was paged one night. A command from Ghost to meet him in his quarters. The message was succinct: one sentence, leaving no lines to be read between. Johnny walked ambled to his room with his heart in his stomach and his blood rushing to his ears. Nudging the door open, Ghost was on the edge of his bed, legs parted, smarting denim-washed jeans and a black pullover. A simple, soft gauze balaclava. 

His eyes slid upwards first. Then the rest of his head. Ghost pinned Johnny under his smouldering gaze, then beckoned him forward with the tilt of his head. No words were swapped. Ghost simply tugged Johnny forward, between his thick thighs, and bullied the Scotsman to his knees with a hand splayed over his half-shaved head. 

Johnny’s eyes widened. He popped his lips open to speak—lips Ghost whispers his thumb over to seal shut, uprooting his words from its step. Ghost shook his head, undid his belt with a single hand, and shucked down his jeans. He palmed himself for a while, watching Johnny’s eyes sheen over, before pushing his boxer-briefs scarcely over his meaty thighs, pinching the head of his cock. 

Ghost didn’t even bother pulling his balls out. Just his dick—long, thick, a comely vein running beneath it—better than anything Johnny’s ever wanted. Better than the images he’s fucked his fist to, memories of Ghost, freshly out of the shower after sparring, his thin towel outlining the barest hint of his dick. 

Johnny reaches out, but Ghost swipes it back. He tuts and softly smacks his cock against Johnny’s ruddy cheek, watching as a string of his precum connects to Johnny’s face. 

“How bad do ya wan’ it, Johnny?” Ghost had prompted, swiping his cockhead over the Scotsmans lips, then pulling it back whenever his jaw readily slacked. 

“Real… real bad, Lt.” He breathed. 

Ghost tapped his cheek again. “Open.”

And so Johnny did. Like it was second nature, like he’s been wanting for so long. Waiting for so fucking long. 

Johnny’s lips popped open and closed around Ghost’s wet tip. He swirled his tongue around it, clumsy in his movements, teeth grazing Ghost’s skin.

He winced. “Easy…”

Johnny blinked in a rapid succession, nodding, sucking him in a little deeper, mindful of hollowing out his cheeks and relaxing his jaw. Ghost’s eye twitched, hands digging into his tuft, hanging his head back, softly bucking his hips up into Johnny’s mouth. 

“Atta boy, Johnny, fuck– where the fuck’d you learn this, eh?”

Johnny replied with a gargled purl of precum and saliva coalescing in his mouth, gagging over the wide girth splitting his jaw open. Ghost laughed, his gloved hand settling on the scruff of Johnny’s neck, pulling him a little closer; sinking his cock a little deeper, rutting his pelvis into his squadmate's pliable mouth.

Ghost cums. Johnny laps it all up. And in an undertaken lapse of judgement, rises to his feet, puckering his frosted lips, ready to hike Ghost’s balaclava above his nose and share his taste with him. But Ghost set a hand to Johnny’s face, shaking his head. He tucked his softening cock back into his pants.

That was the first instance Johnny disregarded. One he ignored in favour of indulging himself in something he yearned after for years. He didn’t realise his grave digging began there—when he witlessly nodded in response. 

And from there, it became a cycle. It was always on Ghost’s call. Never Johnny’s. When Ghost wanted his dick sucked; when Ghost wanted a wet and tight hole wrapped around his cock. Johnny knew better. He knew he was being shepherded into something bad, but he couldn’t help himself.

Trembling under Ghost, his whole world encompassed by the Brit’s towering stature, was all that mattered to him. Getting spread over a cock he’s wanted for so long, a long ways from the taboo fantasies that’s collected cobwebs in his thoughts for so long.

Johnny was less of a teammate, more of an outlet for Ghost to exhaust his frustrations into. Even then, it was a pill Ghost had trouble swallowing. As if he’ll acknowledge it, and a relationship will materialise. So he stays still—fucks Johnny like a dirty little secret then turns the other way. 

Johnny tries talking to him. Tries telling him he struggled with the same thing. That he isn’t alone and that he belongs here. That there’s no shame in it. 

Simon collapses Johnny’s pleads with a final, resolute bark. “I ain’t gay, mate. You’re a friend helping a friend.”

-

basically it ends with Simon shepherding Johnny into some hedonistic, one-sided relationship. Johnny just accepts it bc if Simon wont love him, he’ll do it by proxy, because hes all fucked out and desperate for him🖤🖤

[sage-lights]

this love’s possessing me

word count: 2085 Amanda unknowingly starts to tiptoe the line and now Angela wants all in. (as always, a huge thank you to @babychosen for being my sounding board and helping me workshop different ideas!)

Normally, Angela isn’t one to spend her Friday nights at a kitschy beach bar. It feels horribly cliche living in Los Angeles. But when Erin came barrelling into the office Monday morning raving about a small bar she found with Vida that past weekend, it undoubtedly piqued Angela’s interest. She’s gone out on the weekends with Erin enough times to know that her friends are particular about what she deems a place worth recommending to others.

Later that week, during their lunch break, the topic comes up again. Angela is sitting with Arasha, chatting idly about random topics when Arasha starts talking about how she went out a while ago with Fabian and Rowan.

“Are you talking about that tiny place in Venice?” Angela asks, holding a fork-full of food mid-air.

Arasha lights up, “Yeah, have you been?”

“No, but I think Erin’s been talking about the same place earlier this week.”

As if the sound of her name summoned her, Erin plops down at their table, “What about me?”

“Remember that beach bar you were telling us about? ‘Rash’s been too,” says Angela.

“Oh my god, no way!” Erin turns to Arasha, “What are you doing Friday night? You’ve gotta help me convince them to come.”

Arasha laughs, “Don’t worry, Tommy’s already in. He said, and I quote, ‘There’s no way that place is actually good, I’ve gotta go!’ And I’m pretty sure Court and Shayne will be down to come too!”

They look at Angela expectantly.

“Oh, um, I don’t know guys…”

“Come on! You’ve been so busy it’s been a while since you’ve had a night out with us,” pleads Erin.

Arasha nods, “It’ll be fun, I promise. The cocktails are cheap and not shitty. And I’m sure I can get Chanse to come with as well.”

“And it’s got karaoke,” Erin cheekily adds, her voice laced with a sing-songy quality.

In the same way Erin gets summoned by someone saying her name, Amanda is bound to appear the moment someone mentions karaoke.

“Karaoke where?” Doesn’t matter, I’m already in,” Amanda takes a seat right next to Angela. Almost like it’s on instinct, Amanda leans back and drapes her arm around Angela’s shoulders. “You’re coming too, right Ang?”

She groans, “Ugh, fine. Count me in.”

Which is how Angela found herself drinking sugary cocktails garnished with brightly colored paper umbrellas and a variety of tropical fruit slices. The bar was decked out in fairy lights and tiki decor.

Her friends were all scattered about the crowded space—Tommy and Chanse were chatting (more like flirting, if she was being honest) with the bartenders, Courtney and Arasha were waiting eagerly near the karaoke stage for their turn to sing a duet, and the rest of the group were talking and laughing loudly at a couple tables near the back.

Angela raises her glass to her lips and is disappointed to find she’s already finished her drink. There’s a pleasant buzz that courses through her, but it’s not prominent enough for her liking. If she’s going to let loose tonight, then she’s going to let loose.

Wandering over to the counter, she sidles up next to Tommy and Chanse, props her elbow to lean against the counter, and sets down her empty glass.

“Do you guys do a dirty martini here?” she asks.

Chanse rolls his eyes, “Of course they do, Ang. This is a bar.”

“I don’t know! What if they only do, like, tropical themed drinks here?”

Tommy snickers, “You’d think she snuck in here or something. It’s like she’s never been to a bar before.”

“Get off my back!” Angela faces the amused bartender, deciding to make him an ally if her friends are going to turn on her. “I’d like to personally apologize for any bullshit you’ve had to endure talking to my two idiot friends. They’re the absolute worst.”

“Hey!” Chanse yells indignantly.

The bartender chuckled, wiping condensation from his hands before reaching for her empty glass, “I’ll get you that dirty martini.”

“Thank you! Hey, do you want to be my new best friend? I’m currently taking applications to replace these two!” shouts Angela, to which Chanse slaps her arm, a little harder than he intended. He winces.

She pouts, “Ow, what the fuck?”

“Jesus Christ,” Tommy shakes his head lovingly, “you two are ridiculous.”

Angela opens her mouth, about to retort when she’s cut off by Amanda magically appearing to her right side.

“What are you guys going tucked away over here?”

“There was a really cute bartender that Angela just scared away,” Chanse tries to point subtly at the man now on the far side pouring the martini from a silver shaker.

Amanda sneaks a glance over Tommy’s shoulder, “Oh, he is cute!”

“Shhh! You’re being too obvious, Amanda!” scolds Chanse.

She ignores him, laughing. “So, who’s going home with his number?”

“Oh no, I’m too busy to date right now. Plus, he’s so not my type,” clarifies Tommy, “I’m just trying to wingman for Chanse tonight.”

“How’s it going? Have you guys gotten anywhere?” Amanda prods.

The boys launch straight into recounting every single second of their conversation with the bartender from the moment they said hello. Angela smiles and nods along, occasionally lobbing insults (that lacked any real fire behind them) at Chanse.

At some point during the conversion—Angela’s not entirely sure when it happened—Amanda snakes her hand around Angela’s waist and shifts her weight onto one leg, leaning further into Angela’s personal space. She’s close enough that Angela could feel the warmth radiating from her skin and the faint brush of Amanda’s breath against her neck.

It’s been happening more often recently. An arm slung around Angela’s shoulders, a hand on her waist, a caressing thumb over her knuckles. All these little touches that make Angela’s heart skip. Amanda has never been one to shy away from physical touch and the touches are innocent enough to be friendly, but they linger just long enough to make her hope for something more.

Not that Angela’s complaining. It’s just…interesting. In the dimly lit room and with her cheeks already flushed a little rosy from the alcohol, she’s just hoping no one will clock the way her body heats up more as Amanda slowly runs her fingers up and down her side.

This happened to be one of the rare nights Angela wore a crop top, giving Amanda’s hand direct contact with her skin. The touch of her fingers on Angela’s bare skin sent a jolt through her, like a live wire sparking with each stroke leaving her a little more breathless.

Angela swears there was something about the way Amanda is stroking her that made her feel even drunker.

“Hello? Earth to Angela!”

She blinks, registering Chanse’s waving hand in front of her face.

“Sorry, I must’ve zoned out for a second. What were you saying?”

“We’ve got to cut her off after this drink,” jokes Tommy, attempting to reach over and gingerly take Angela’s martini glass from her hand. She snatches her hand back.

“Guy, I’m fine. I swear. I’ve barely had anything to drink.”

“We’ll, as a first time drinker, you’ve got to take it slow,” Chanse mocks.

“Shut up!” Angela returns his earlier favor, and wacks his arm back.

“Okay, that actually hurt, bitch.”

“Your bitch count is at four today, bitch!”

“Whatever,” tsks Chanse before redirecting his attention back to the conversation they were previously having, leaving Angela glad that they didn’t keep questioning her about what she was thinking about.

Angela’s mind drifts again, her attention slowly returning when she feels something tickling her side. At first, she thought it was the tag of her shirt, so she wiggles around trying to slightly jostle it into a new position. But the prickling sensation travels lower and lower, and oh.

Amanda’s hand has made its way into the back pocket of her jeans. Amanda’s hand is in her pocket.

It’s not like Amanda is acting inappropriately (if anything about this situation can even be considered “appropriate”); she’s not squeezing Angela’s ass or anything. Her hand is just there. Firm, but not moving. Warm, undoubtedly noticeable, and, as much as Angela doesn’t want to admit it, comforting.

She looks up wide eyed, searching for some kind of acknowledgement in Amanda’s eyes. Luckily, Amanda catches Angela staring at her and it’s like this bubble that they’re in has burst because she suddenly realized exactly where her hand has wandered.

The moment that Angela feels Amanda try to pull away, she reaches behind her and holds Amanda’s hand there.

“Ang—,” Amanda begins.

Angela leans in slightly, her voice barely above a whisper, “I like it when you touch me like that.” The words come out before she can stop herself, a quiet confession buried under the noise of the bar.

Amanda stares, dazed. And blinks. Oh, she’s actually serious about this. Carefully, she slips her hand fully back into Angela’s pocket. Only then does Angela loosen her vice grip on her wrist.

Chanse is thankfully none the wiser, still babbling on about the bartender. Tommy, on the other hand, notices how stiff Amanda now seems. They lock eyes and he slowly lowers his gaze to where Amanda’s hand is buried.

He raises an eyebrow and mouths, “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” she replies silently, though she can tell that Tommy isn’t even a little bit convinced. He’s about to ask again, but Amanda shakes her head, telling him to drop it.

But, he doesn’t.

“I’ve been standing way too long. We should join everyone because I need to take a seat,” announces Tommy.

Chanse shrugs and follows, leaving Angela and Amanda alone in silence. They don’t say anything as Amanda removes her hand, and this time, Angela doesn’t stop her.

“Well, I should probably get going,” she mutters, rubbing the back of her neck, trying to ignore the lingering warmth of Amanda’s touch.

“Come say ‘bye’ to everyone at least?” Amanda asks, voice gentle, her eyes searching Angela’s face.

“Say ‘bye’ for me,” Angela pulls out her phone and taps the screen, “My UberEats is about to get to my house anyways.”

“Of course it is. I’ll walk you out.”

They stop by the curb, standing in the soft glow of a streetlamp, and Angela sighs. Outside, the night air hits Angela like a wave, cool and refreshing compared to the stuffy warmth inside.

It’s sobering, but not enough to dim the electric current between them. Her pulse quickens, heat blooming in her chest as she thinks about Amanda’s touch, her warmth, and before she can stop herself, the words spill out.

“You should come home with me,” her words slurred but sincere. It’s vulnerable, though there’s an obvious desire that burns in her eyes as well.

Amanda’s lips part as if she’s going to say yes, but she hesitates and sighs, “Angela…I want to. Trust me, I do. But…”

Angela frowns, confused, her heart sinking at the rejection. “But?”

Amanda strokes Angela’s cheek gently, her thumb brushing away a stray strand of hair. “You’ve been drinking, and I…I’m not sure what this all means yet.”

The words land heavily between them, leaving Angela speechless. Behind her, she hears a car pull up and hears the driver call her name.

Amanda presses a soft kiss to Angela’s forehead, her lips lingering just a moment longer than they should. The tenderness in the kiss tells Angela everything—there’s something there, but Amanda’s not ready to face it. The warmth of it lingers, though it only deepens the ache in Angela’s chest, the unanswered question of where they stand hanging heavy between them.

“Text me when you get home so I know you’re safe, okay?” she opens the door for Angela to climb in.

“Good night, ‘Manda.”

“Good night, honey.”

Through the window, Angela watches as Amanda grows smaller in the distance until it’s just a tiny shadow that walks back into the bar alone.

She turns to look out the window, catching one last glimpse of Amanda, her figure bathed in a soft glow. There’s something painfully beautiful about the sight, but it only makes Angela’s chest tighten.

As the car pulls away, Amanda grows smaller and smaller until she’s just a tiny shadow that walks back into the bar alone.

(About an hour later, Amanda checks her phone and sees a selfie of Angela and Spork sitting on her bed with a bowl of pasta in her lap. She smiles and double taps the image.)

[makeitmingi]

The Cat and Dog Game [Chapter 3]

Genre: Romance, Fluff, Comedy

Pairing: Yunho x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Chef!Reader, RestaurantOwner!Yunho, MaitreD!Hongjoong, Waiter!Yeosang, Waiter!San, Waiter!Mingi, SousChef!Seonghwa, SousChef!Wooyoung, PrepChef!Jongho

Summary: Yunho's dream was to open and run his own restaurant. But he doesn't know anything when it comes to cooking. Until you came along and accepted the job, bringing with you a small crew. How will the black cat tame the energetic golden retriever?

Word count: 3.4K

When you woke up, you saw Wooyoung in your kitchen, standing over the stove. Seonghwa was still asleep in your bed and you assumed Jongho was also passed out in the guest room where he shared a bed with Wooyoung.

"You're up early..." You yawned.

"Hi, love~ Good morning." Wooyoung smiled sweetly. He poured coffee into your mug and slid it over to you, as well as a small bottle of hangover cure.

"Thanks." You took a sip of coffee first before drinking the hangover cure. Then you shuffled over to him.

"What are you making?" You peered over his shoulder.

"Sopa de fideo, our usual hangover cure. I would have made avgolemono (Greek soup with lemon and chicken broth, thickened with eggs) but you're out of lemons." He said.

"Oh, I better remember to get some when I go to the shops again. And I'm always down for sopa." You smiled.

"Better add fideo pasta then. I just used the bag up." Wooyoung informed. You nodded with a hum and went to the fridge. You started to make a mixed fruit juice for Seonghwa, knowing he liked sweets to help him get over a hangover. He also didn't like bitter things and didn't like coffee.

"Hwa might only wake up later. After his drunk nagging and making fun of me, I only managed to get him to sleep at like 6 am." You clicked your tongue.

"He is so funny when he's drunk." Wooyoung snickered.

"If he's so funny, next time, you take him. The both of you were messes, Jongho and I wanted to just leave you both out here."

"Let's do that next time." Jongho spoke, letting out a loud yawn and stretching his arms over his head. He had an arm on his neck as he stretched out the stiff muscles.

"Jong, your hair." You laughed, reaching out to help him tame his messy bedhair.

"Wooyoung hyung kicked me in my ribs. I think I have a bruise." Jongho hissed, glaring at Wooyoung, who turned back to the stove and whistled innocently. You went to pour Jongho a big mug of coffee and get a small bottle of hangover cure.

"Alright, later, let's try to compile a list of produce suppliers we can contact for the restaurant. We'll probably have to use our own equipment until Yunho can get them in." You said.

"Yes. We'll definitely need our stand mixers." Jongho nodded.

"Ugh, those things are so heavy though. It's going to be a nightmare to transport them back and forth." Wooyoung whined.

"And at the same time, we can discuss a menu so we know what equipment we need." You added. When Wooyoung finished cooking, he portioned everything out.

"Pepper mill, please." You asked. Once Jongho finished garnishing his own bowl, he handed it over to you.

"Is Hwa hyung unconscious?" Jongho asked. Wooyoung snorted as he took a bite of food.

"I think so. He's too talkative when he drinks. I might have smothered him with my pillow in my intoxicated state." You shrugged. You said that with such a straight face that others who didn't know you might have thought you were serious. But Jongho and Wooyoung knew you long enough to know you were joking.

"Thanks for cooking, Woo. It was just what I needed." You said, starting to do the dishes. When Jongho was done, he came to help you dry the things and put them away.

"We'll have to wake Hwa soon." You yawned, laying over the couch.

"Ah, let him sleep more." Wooyoung grinned, coming over and laying his body on top of yours, making you grunt.

"Don't squish her, hyung." Jongho said, sitting on the armchair after refilling his coffee tumbler.

"Yah, Choi Jongho. I'm not that heavy." Wooyoung scolded and made no effort to remove himself from you. He even snuggled closer to you, letting out happy sounds.

"I'm so glad we're past the stage of you wanting to claw my eyes out." He giggled.

"Who says we're past the stage?" You mumbled.

"Okay, I'm going to take a warm shower. My brain is fogging." Jongho stood up and went to the room. You poked Wooyoung in his ticklish spots, making him yelp and yell until he got off you. You smiled victoriously and went to your room.

"Hwa!" You jumped onto the lump under the blanket like an evil cat. Seonghwa groaned at the impact, shifting under the blanket. You wriggled your body, squishing him.

"Darling, I'm not going to go deeper into the mattress." Seonghwa murmured, his voice muffled by the blanket.

"Wake up, Hwa. There's things to discuss."

"Well, I can't with you on me, can I?" He chuckled. You didn't even have a chance to get up before the door opened and a very loud Wooyoung barged in.

"Cuddle pile?! Where was my invite?!" He complained as he fell on top of you. You and Seonghwa winced.

"This isn't a cuddle pile! I'm trying to wake Hwa up." You squirmed.

"And not doing a very good job at it." Seonghwa said, reaching out from under the blanket to stroke your head while you shot him an offended look.

"We can just stay here all day." Wooyoung wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you in to hug you, burying his face into your back. As you laid between them, Seonghwa shifted slightly so you had space but was still hogging your duvet. He was wrapped in it like a comfortable burrito.

"You should eat something, Hwa. I made you mixed juice in the fridge since you don't drink coffee." You said.

"What's the food? Did you cook?" He asked, voice slurring ever so slightly, an indication that he was falling back asleep very soon.

"I made sopa. Miss (y/n) here needs to go to the shops soon, she didn't even have lemons in the fridge." Wooyoung replied. You reached behind and slapped his hip.

"Hmm..." Seonghwa hummed. His eyes were the only thing you could see peeking over the blanket and they were closed.

"Hwa's so tired." You whispered to Wooyoung. Seeing Seonghwa so tired, you didn't really have it in you to wake him up again, wanting to let him sleep.

"And hungover." Wooyoung added.

"Yet both of you were the ones who didn't want to stop drinking last night." You said softly, turning your head to see Wooyoung just press his lips into a thin line. He clearly didn't remember what happened last night, none of the boys do. Even Jongho.

When you turned around again after a while to see why Wooyoung was so quiet, you realised that he had fallen back asleep too. You carefully slipped out of his grasp.

"Where's everyone?" Jongho asked when he saw you emerge. He had a towel on his head, used to dry his hair.

"Sleeping in my bed." You sighed and sat down beside him.

"Want to go to the shops?" He suggested. That wouldn't be a bad idea. Jongho was objective and didn't get as distracted as Seonghwa and Wooyoung.

"Sure. Just let me go change." You stood up, heading into the room to get some clothes.

-

Yunho let out a tired sigh as he came out of his father's office. He spent the night drafting a contract between himself and your cooking team. Then the moment it hit morning, he drove to his father's law firm to have him look it over. Mr Jeong made some edits but nothing major before sending his son off.

'Where are you? Want to go get brunch with Yeosang and I? - San'

'I just came out of my father's office after letting him look over the contract I drew up last night... Sure, I'll eat then go home to sleep. Text me the address. - Yunho'

After receiving the location address, Yunho drove over to where San and Yeosang were.

"Hey, sorry for the wait." Yunho said to his friend as he approached their booth. They shook their heads, San sliding in for Yunho to sit.

"How did it go?" Yeosang asked.

"It's fine. My dad made some minor changes but nothing too major. It's just a 1 year contract anyway, which I know how to draft." Yunho shrugged, looking through the menu.

"I meant with the cooking team. Must have went well for you to draft a contract right away." Yeosang laughed.

"Oh! It went well. Hongjoong hyung's friend, Seonghwa sshi, he is like their manager or some sort. But the main chef is this girl, (y/n) sshi. She's really cool, you'll see what I mean when you meet her tomorrow." Yunho grinned.

"Do you already have a crush on her?" San raised an eyebrow.

"No! I don't. She's just cool... I want to be her friend. And the other two guys in the team are cool as well, they're all cool! Seonghwa sshi and Wooyoung sshi are sous chefs. Jongho is a prep chef."

"That's nice, Yunho ah. But can the 4 of them handle the workload or bakery items and dinner service?" San asked.

"Well, that seemed to be their concern too. But I think they worked out a schedule." Yunho shrugged.

"That's why there's a contract?" Yeosang clarified. Yunho nodded.

"Oh yes, I was going to text (y/n) to tell her the contract has been drawn so they can sign it before work tomorrow." Yunho took his phone out to text you with an excited smile.

"Wow, tomorrow is opening." San said in disbelief. After seeing Yunho work so hard for the restaurant, it was finally going to open.

"I know, it feels weird to say that it's opening tomorrow. I can't believe it, really. Time passes so fast with all the construction and sourcing of things to put the restaurant together." Yunho rubbed the back of his neck. Just thinking about it made his heart race with anticipation, all the fatigue melted away.

"Let's order. I'm starving, I need my protein." Yeosang said. The both of them were gym rats so their post gym meals were always large. Yunho, Hongjoong and Mingi were always too lazy to go.

After the waiter took their order, they continued their conversation. Yunho glanced at his phone when you replied.

'Thank you for preparing it in such a timely manner, Yunho sshi. What time should my team and I be in tomorrow? - (y/n) sshi'

'You're welcome! 😊 It was no big deal at all, actually. Part of the job. How long will you and the team need to start preparing the pastries for opening? 🤔 - Yunho sshi'

'Depends. We will need to source for ingredients since the fridges and cupboards are empty. - (y/n) sshi'

'Sorry about that 😞 - Yunho sshi'

'I didn't say that for you to apologise to me. It is understandable since you didn't have a kitchen crew until yesterday. If possible, can I drop by later today to bring some equipment and ingredients for storage to be used tomorrow morning? - (y/n) sshi'

'Of course! What time is good? - Yunho sshi'

'Say 4pm? - (y/n) sshi'

'That's perfect! I'll see you then! 😼 - Yunho sshi'

Yunho had been so busy talking to you that he didn't notice Yeosang and San stopping their conversation to stare at him. He had a dopey grin on his face.

"Earth to Yunho?" San waved his hand in front of the taller male's face, making Yunho blink and look up.

"Who are you talking to...?" Yeosang leaned on his hands.

"Oh, (y/n) sshi asked if she can drop off ingredients and equipment off later at the restaurant. So she doesn't have to bring them in with the team at 5am." Yunho informed.

Yunho didn't know why he looked forward to working with you. Maybe because you seemed so wise when it came to food. The last person who awe'd him with food knowledge was his own grandmother, the whole reason why he loves food and eating, and wanted to open his own restaurant.

"Here you go." The waiter came back with their food and drinks, giving out the plates.

"Thank you for the food." The boys chimed and dug in.

"I'll help you behind the coffee counter tomorrow, Yunho. We can barista together." San smiled. Out of the group, Yeosang and Hongjoong were the worst with handling food.

"Mingi's going to try and sneak into the kitchen to steal food." Yeosang chuckled.

"He does love bread and pastries." Yunho rationalised.

After that brunch, Yunho went home to catch up on some much needed sleep. He made sure to set an alarm, he didn't want to be late to meeting you.

Yunho was on time, but when he pulled up into the parking space beside the restaurant, he saw you waiting there, leaning against a van and fiddling with your phone. His eyes widened in panic as he rushed to remove his seat belt and got out.

"Sorry I'm late!" He ran over.

"You're not late. I was early." You raised an eyebrow, standing up and tucking your phone into your pocket. Compared to yesterday, you were dressed a lot more casually, in sweats and a hoodie.

"Are you on your own?" He tilted his head when he noticed there was no one else in the van. You gave a nod and a hum, tugging your hoodie down.

"I'll get a trolley from inside. Hold on." Yunho went into the restaurant and grabbed a trolley.

"Oh wow." He was stunned when you pulled open the van door, revealing all the ingredients and equipment inside.

"We should move the cold stuff in first. It's these." You pointed to the cartons butter, milk, cream and other things that needed to be in the refridgerator immediately.

"Sure." He picked up the cartons and stacked them onto the trolley, wheeling them in.

"Why don't you stock the fridge while I bring the rest in? I'll bring the produce first." Yunho suggested. You nodded and went into the walk in, which was already turned on and cold. You began to stack everything inside, making a mental note to get bins and labels to organise it better.

"(y/n) sshi?" Yunho called you and you stepped out to see that he really brought in all the produce on his own. You were impressed by his energy and strength.

"That's fast." You chuckled. His ears turned red at your words but he maintained his grin.

"What should I do next?" He asked, enthusiasm in his voice. You imagined if he had a tail, he would be wagging it.

"Well, let's organise these first then. Before bringing in the equipment." You told him. He nodded and helped you bring the vegetables in.

"Shall I put these here?" He asked. You gave a nod and he put the vegetables neatly. He hummed softly to himself as he worked.

*RINGGGGGG

"Excuse me." You left Yunho and stepped out to answer the phone. Since you just stood in the kitchen, Yunho could hear bits and pieces of your conversation.

"Hwa, you were sleeping so I went to the shops with Jongho... No, he is not with me now. He had to go to his parents' place... I'm at the restaurant with Yunho. I brought some produce and equipment for tomorrow..." You said.

"Well, I tried to wake you. You went back to sleep... I borrowed a van from my neighbour and brought everything over... Don't worry, I can manage. Yunho did most of the lifting." You sighed.

"Alright... Make the bed before you go, I don't like my sheets in a mess." You hummed and ended the call.

Yunho's eyes widened. Were you and Seonghwa in a relationship? Judging by how caring and protective Seonghwa was of you, he shouldn't be surprised.

"Apologies." You came back and Yunho shook his head, acting like he had been busy.

"That's done. I won't need the meats in the freezer since we are serving them tomorrow." You said.

"So we bring the equipment in?" He asked. You nodded and walked out with Yunho trailing behind you. The equipment wasn't much but you did bring yours and Jongho's stand mixers.

"These are heavy." Yunho grunted as you lifted them from the trolley and onto the counters.

"They need to not move when mixing." You replied. Other than that, you brought in some pots, pans, a sous vide machine, a vaccum sealer and smaller essentials like mixing bowls, cutting boards and other cooking utensils.

"Let me know how much these are. I'll pay you back." Yunho said as he unwrapped the new set of measuring cups while you sorted the cooking utensils.

"It's fine."

"(y/n) sshi, these are for use in here so please, let me pay you back for them." He begged with a small pout.

"Alright." You nodded. Yunho glanced at you as your organised the kitchen in a particular way. He guessed it was the way you and your team worked comfortably.

You didn't try to make conversation with him but you could feel his eyes on you. You just continued arranging what you needed.

"S-So what did you have in mind for the menu tomorrow?" He stuttered.

"For the bakery, looks like it'll be lemon poppy seed madeleines, strawberry basil tartlets and palmiers. For the cakes, we're thinking a cheesecake of some sort, yuzu drizzle loaf and red velvet." You listed out, having brainstormed with Jongho at the market earlier so you could buy ingredients.

"Oh wow. That all sounds so good." Yunho's jaw slackened slightly at your words.

"If there's time, we'll push more stuff out since we want to test to ovens and equipment." You explained.

"Then is there any prep stuff that you need to do now?" Yunho only knew that some dishes needed to be prepared early because his grandmother used to marinate meats and vegetables overnight.

"Are you able to assist with food prep?" You eyed him.

"I have not done it before but I can try!" He grinned excitedly.

"Never said you will be." You stated, going to get your apron. You grabbed a spare apron and handed it to him.

"Actually, I'll help you sanitise and wash the stuff first. I might not be much help." Yunho rubbed the back of his neck when he saw you take your wrap of kitchen tools out, including your knife.

"We haven't even started yet..." You scoffed.

"Yeah but I feel like I might be in your way. When I was granted my food license, the intructor told me he hopes I'm not actually going to put my food license to use... I'm better washing dishes than actually cooking..." He said in embarrassment, his ears turning red. But you noticed the small pout on his face.

"Just try. If you can't, you can't." You turned to the counter space to continue setting up. Yunho smiled softly, grateful for your indirect way of encouragement?

"Okay, so we'll start with a blackberry apple tuile. We can leave it in the dehydrator overnight." You said.

"I'll get the cutting boards washed." Yunho said while you went into the walk in to get the ingredients that you would need.

You laid out the ingredients and used the sink on the other side to wash the fruit that you would be using. When they were done, you stood next to Yunho and started working on the apples.

"Umm..." Yunho didn't move. He didn't know what to do. For a moment, you forgot he was new to this.

"Sorry. Here. Use this." You handed him one of your spare utility knives.

"Hold the knife like this and slice the blackberries in half like this." You demonstrated. Yunho nodded and began doing the task. You watched him for a bit, worried that he might cut himself since he seemed a little wobbly.

"Like this...?" He winced, not that he cut himself. He was worried that he was doing a bad job. But you really can't do a bad job at cutting berries in half.

"That's fine." You prepared lemon water in a bowl. Then you took your pairing knife and began to peel the green apples that would be used.

~

Series masterlist