#i’m picking up white oil paint

[autoneurotic]

i gotta make art today

[ifeelfreewithoutmyshoes]

I think I’ve finally mastered gouache!?

[pcr-alice]

DPxDC - Morning Tea

also on AO3

Cass didn’t like this room.

It was cramped and full, thick with the woolen scent of Bruce’s suits and tuxedos and overcoats, the remnants of dry cleaning and the plastic bags it was returned in, leather shoes and belts and their oil and polish mixed with the harsh bite of disinfectant spray. Lit by a single bulb, warm in color, lacking in brightness, barely illuminating the shelves, not even attempting to attack to darkness around their feet and under the hanging clothes.

But she was wrapped around Steph’s arm to ground herself.

Danny walked straight to a jewelry box with the confidence of someone who knew what they were doing. For anyone other than Cass, it would have been convincing. He was sure of what he was doing, yes. Unsure of being here and actually doing it. She could see the dart of his eyes in the unknown space and the apprehension when he opened the box lid.

It released a surge of noise from the dozen or so watches inside, all ticking at their own cadence, some three, five, eight times a second, none of them synced, muffled by the stifling fabric packed between the shelves, saturating the hazy space.

But whatever Danny was doing was confusing enough to distract her.

He eased into the rhythm of his task, removing the watches one-by-one and examining them briefly, turning them over and lifting them to his ear to listen to. Some went directly back into the box. Others he set out on the shelf they had cleared off for him. Having picked out a selection he seemed pleased with, he began rearranging them into an order she didn’t understand. It was slow going. He would compare two at a time, one in each hand, raising them to his face for a closer look or closing his eyes to focus on the sound.

“Can’t you go any faster?” Steph hissed.

Danny flinched microscopically out of reflex, but relaxed almost as quickly and turned to face them, clearly comforted by their presence.

“Would you like to do it instead?” He sassed back.

Steph groaned. Danny met Cass’s gaze.

“You good?”

Cass nodded and squeezed Steph’s arm tighter. Danny was always good at checking on her when she needed it, and Steph knew how to lead her away from (or out of) overwhelming situations. He smiled in response and turned back to his work.

“How come you’re only nice to her?”

“I’m favorite.”

Steph pouted dramatically.

“Damn Cass, going for the throat.”

She laughed noiselessly and leaned into Steph harder, knocking her out of her pout and into a snort.

“Ahem.”

Steph shrieked at the sound of a throat clearing behind them and whipped around to the doorway. Or tried to. Cass still held her arm tightly, so she ended up half-twisting her lower body and raising her free hand in a pathetic excuse of a guard as she looked up to see Alfred staring down at her with a single raised eyebrow.

“Good Morning, Miss Stephanie. I must admit, this is not what I expected to find when I heard you two whispering in a back room with our guest.”

“Morning, Alfred!” Danny greeted over his shoulder.

“Good morning to you as well, young Master Danny. Might I ask what brought about your sudden interest in Master Bruce’s collection of timepieces?”

“Hm? Oh, I’m fixing this for Steph.”

Steph shrieked again as Danny turned to face them, holding a single watch in his hand, revealing a white porcelain teacup with elaborate painted flowers and gold trim around the lip and handle sitting in the middle of a partial circle of watches. Perfectly split in two.

“Traitor! You said you’d help!”

“I said I’d help fix the cup. You’re on your own.”

“He’s right,” Cass insisted.

Steph sighed heavily and leaned her head on Cass’s.

“You’ve gotta teach me how to be the favorite.”

“I was wondering where I misplaced my morning tea,” Alfred mused.

“Hey Alfred, what’s the time on your pocket watch?”

He carefully pulled the chain from his pocket and clicked the cover open.

“Ten thirty-four.”

“Give me a mark when that crosses to ten thirty-five, please.”

“I hope these two won’t make a habit – mark – of involving you in their mischief.”

“It’s only fair,” he turned to face them, having placed the final watch down on the shelf, “they get caught up in plenty of mine, too.”

“That’s not exactly reassuring, Master Danny,” Alfred closed his pocket watch with a click and slid it back into his pocket.

“Don’t worry, I haven’t broken anything in the manor yet. That’s just Steph.”

“Ugh, why do I even talk to you?” Steph muttered with an exaggerated eye roll.

“We’re favorite.” Cass answered cheerfully.

There was a tick from behind Danny and Cass’s shoulders relaxed. It took her a second to realize that all the watches were now perfectly in sync. She tilted her head in confusion, and Danny clocked her movement.

“Oh!” Danny exclaimed.

He stepped to the side to reveal the shelf behind him. On top of it was a perfectly repaired teacup.

“What.” Steph blurted.

“Good as new!” Danny gestured with his best jazz hands, “Er, as two hours ago at least.”

They were all silent for an elongated second before Steph gathered herself.

“See, nothing happened! We’ll be home for dinner!”

She grabbed Danny’s arm and yanked him out of the room, dragging him as she ran down the hall.

“Wait, I didn’t clean up! Sorry, Alfred!” Danny called back.

Alfred waited until the noise of their footsteps disappeared behind a slammed door. He sighed fondly and stepped toward the shelf. The watches were laid out in a circle except for the very bottom, where there was a small spot of something red. Alfred scrunched his eyebrows. Blood? He picked up the teacup to look closer, but when he moved his arm away to set the teacup down somewhere else, the mark was gone. He stared at the spotless shelf for a few seconds before making a mental note and moving on.

He picked up the watches one-by-one and meticulously wiped them off with a small cloth before placing them back in the jewelry box, reminiscing as he went. This was the first one Thomas had bought for himself, that one was the one Martha had bought for him, that was the one that Bruce… Hm. Did Danny realize these were laid out in the order they were bought? Alfred made another mental note.

He closed the jewelry box lid and went to pick up the teacup, only to find it full of tea. He glanced behind him to find a still empty closet. When he looked back to the teacup, he noticed it was sitting on a small green piece of paper. He lifted the teacup by its handle and picked up the paper with his other hand.

Your morning blend was delicious. Enjoy one of my favorites. CW

Alfred stared at the note for a few seconds, finally noticing the wonderful scent that had permeated the air. He took a small sip.

“I see why it’s one of your favorites,” Alfred lifted the cup in a polite toast.

He slipped the note in his pocked and flicked the lights off as he walked away.

[mortytheestallion]

can i have you?

Rating: 18+ (minors DNI)

Word Count: 1700+

Warnings: Rick Sanchez x F!Reader, age-gap (older man/younger woman), unprotected sex PIV, angst, cunnilingus, fingering, canon typical violence, alcohol

“What’s that?” There’s a look of uneasiness painted on your face, a timid hand pointing at a seemingly dead robot that looks a little too much like Rick, well exactly like Rick, strewn across the garage floor in a puddle of oil.

Rick barely spares a glance over his shoulder before giving a gruff grunt.

“Morty pissed me off. It's a glorified family babysitter while I search for— while I focus on real shit.”

You think you’re gonna throw up. If that. . . thing, has been impersonating Rick for a couple of weeks then—

You can’t help the shriek that passes through your lips. Stomach churning, you don’t acknowledge the sound of glass shattering not 5 feet from where you stand. All you can do is stare at the shiny gold consisting of the robot’s body parts in horror.

“What the fuck is your problem?” Rick had already been in an irritated state like you’ve never seen. 5’o clock shadow, disheveled hair, and his lab coat seemed to be all that was holding him together.​ The mania had dissipated a couple of days ago, leaving nothing but piss and vinegar behind. 

“I fucked that thing.”

You’ve never seen Rick surprised as he slowly turns to face you, brow near his hairline. He’s speechless for the first time since he met you, yet it's gone as quickly as it came. His signature furrowed brow and twitching eye returned.

“What do you mean you fucked it?” It's full of venom. You can see his shoulders tense, white knuckles gripping the edge of the work bench. 

All you can do is stare at him, bound and gagged by your own dreadful realization. A beat passes before either one of you moves, Rick springs into action first. A string of explicatives leaves his mouth as he roughly clears the work bench, you cringe at the sound of clattering metal, but do not move. It feels like your feet have grown roots. 

It all makes sense now. The soft touches, the kindness, the supportiveness. It couldn’t have been Rick, it wasn’t. 

You can’t believe you didn’t realize it was a robot. His hands were cold, which was the only odd thing but Rick is odd. He normally runs like a space heater. You often wake up with all of your blankets on the floor, Rick starfished on the topsheet. He had been more tender though, attentive. You just thought time was changing him, making him softer. It seemed like family was making him more mellow, you thought maybe having you in his life brought out something in him. 

The shame and embarrassment washes over you like a flood. 

He picks up the robot with ease, throwing it onto the work bench like it weighs less than a feather. You’d be turned on in other, better circumstances. Your thoughts continue to race as Rick searches carelessly through boxes, throwing items over his shoulder at the workbench. He doesn’t seem to care if it hits the robot or not. 

Rick attaches what looks like jumper cables to each of the robot's nipples. You snort, instant regret shoots down your spine as Rick throws a glare at you. He presses a button and the robot jerks to life, cringing as he moans through the electrical current flowing through him.

“I thought you let me die, asshole.” He squints at Rick. His eyes widen when he realizes Rick is in no joking mood. 

“I programmed you to keep Morty busy not to fuck my gir— not to fuck her!” Rick thumb jabs in your direction, “Now I’m gonna fuck her, and make you watch.”

“Rick.” It's the first word you’ve been able to get out in a minute, the robot quietly sighs to himself during your staring contest with Rick. 

“Fine.” It comes out through gritted teeth, and he rips the cables off. The robot jerks as the light leaves its eyes. You feel a little guilty, this somewhat sentient creature dying because of your actions. Then again, Rick programmed it to be him, and it does seem to want to die. 

“What?” It's accusatory. Rick can’t believe the look on your face, you fucked a robot not him. Who are you to be on a high horse?

Your mouth is set in a grim line, tension oozes between the two of you. Rick’s chest heaves, he won’t break before you do. 

“What exactly was your plan with the robot? You thought I wouldn't initiate sex?” You break, chewing on your lip. Rick’s eyes briefly flicker towards it before meeting yours again. His hands are balled into fists.

“S-sorry I expected you to actually use that thing in your head, you know the brain?” Your mouth falls open at his jab, “Mouth o-open again? Gonna stick the dead robot dick in it, sweetheart?” 

There's tears in your eyes. All of the cautious trust you’ve built over the last couple washed away in a matter of seconds. Serves you right, you think.

He takes a swig of his flask, angry eyes betraying the calm demeanor he’s trying to portray. You can’t help it as the tears fall, you watch him soften a bit as you sniffle before the coldness returns. 

“Tears d-don’t work on me bab— sweetie, or did the robot fuck you dumb?” You know he’s just being mean because he’s hurt. 

It doesn’t make it any less upsetting though. You both stand your ground. 

You play it up a little, calling his bluff. Sniffles turn to sobs, you watch as his resolve slowly begins to crumble. He shifts his weight several times before he tosses the flask over his shoulder and moves in your direction. 

“C’mere,” his thumbs briefly wipe the tears off your cheeks before his lips meet yours. It’s uncharacteristically soft for him, a little too on brand for the robot. You push the thought to the back of your mind, enjoying how warm his body is pressed against yours. 

He gets a little rougher. You gasp as your back hits the work bench, so engrossed in the feeling of his teeth biting your neck you didn’t even notice him guiding you over. 

Rick’s hands are gripping your waist so tight you’re sure there’ll be handprint shaped bruises on your hips in the morning. The thought of it makes you moan, and he tenses slightly before continuing his way down your torso. 

He gets his hands under your thighs. Calloused hands meet plush skin as he leverages you up on the counter, you yelp as you land on the cold counter. 

“Gon–gonna make you forget all about him, sweetheart,” He mutters, rucking the material down your legs. He’s gonna show you how much he cares about you in the only way he can. He stops for a minute to grab you by the nape of your neck and kisses you, really kisses you. He bathes in the soft moans he manages to pull from you between kisses, continuing his previous goal as he bites his way down your neck and chest. 

Rick drags your ass to the edge of the counter before dropping to his knees. He bites back a curse, his joints too old to be doing shit like that but damn if he wasn’t gonna worship you in a way that matters. Matters to him.

He runs a finger up your slit, savoring how wet you are for him after nothing but a couple kisses. It inflates his ego like you wouldn’t believe. 

You mewl as he breaches you, two slender fingers twisting inside you. You arch into his touch, wiggling for as much contact you can milk from him. 

“Please, Rick, d-don’t tease,” you plead, his eyes search your face. He curls his fingers up, hitting you where you’re soft and spongy, reveling in the way you melt in his hands. Rick uses his other hand to spread your knees wide. He can’t help the noise that escapes his throat at the sight of you. 

He picks up his pace and you squirm, your hips chasing as much pleasure as you can. His cock presses uncomfortably against the seam of his pants as he feels you clench around his fingers. Beads of sweat pepper your hairline as you ride his fingers, becoming more desperate the longer he denies you release. 

You practically scream the minute you feel his mouth on your clit. Your orgasm rips through you like a live wire. Your thighs shake, momentarily blacking out as the pleasure overwhelms you. 

When you come down, Rick is staring at you intently. 

“Can I have you?” It's loaded. You know what he means, he’s asking for permission before continuing but there’s more underneath this time. He might even be more upset than you about the robot fucking, and you know Rick’s no saint. Your lip quivers. His stare never leaves your face.

You nod. He’s on you faster than you can process post-orgasm. 

He kisses you again. It's softer this time, one hand holds your jaw softly while the other undoes his belt. He desperately shoves his pants down as if having you will solve all his problems. Maybe it will.

Rick fists himself as he smears his cock against your entrance. You moan, overstimulated and fucked out. He holds himself back, it's not in his nature to go slow. Your hips buck involuntarily as he slides to the hilt, his head drops to your shoulder with a groan. 

“Fuck, sweetheart, you’re so tight,” He pulls almost all the way out before thrusting back in without warning, “Bet he didn’t fuck you like this, huh?” He quickens his pace and you grip his shoulders, hips dragging with what little strength you have to meet him.

He thrusts as deep as he can to get you to writhe and whimper. 

“C’mon,” He pants, “Just one more for me, honey, I know you can do it.” It's creeping up on you, twisting down your spine. He angles his hips to spear his cock into you just like you need, and it's enough. 

Rick’s hips stutter as you clench around him, gripping your hips to deliver the brutal thrusts you need as you ride through your orgasm. 

He comes shortly after with a grunt as you flutter along his length. 

“I’d have fucked a robot sooner if it meant you’d fuck me like that.”

The glare is worth it.

[dearly-somber]

body art | j.jk

-> pairing. wolf shifter!jungkook x human!reader (f)

-> genre. f2l, slow burn, eventual romance, eventual smut, mutual pining, fluff, university!au

-> rating. 13+

-> w/c. 2598

-> warnings. lots of touching (not inappropriate); sexual tension 🤡

-> a/n. Listened to Pictures by ECÂF for the entirety of this one and whoOo bOy 😮‍💨. The brain-juices were Flowing

-> collection. mini-series

-> started. Mar. 4th, 2023 @ 20:07

-> fin. Sun., Jun. 23rd, 2024 @ 03:32

-> edited. Mon., Jun. 24th, 2024 @ 02:35

-> divider credit. @mmadeinheavenn

Sometimes, Jungkook feels like the biggest idiot on planet earth. Forgetting about a very important, fast-approaching project deadline happens to be one of those moments.

What sucks more than that is that he was tasked to do something in a medium far from what he usually does (oil pastel), but now that he has very little time to prepare, he also needs something that won’t take him more than 24 hours to complete.

He bites on his lip, pacing around the empty art studio with his hands on his hips. His buddy Eunwoo does a lot of body art, he thinks… he’s always said that it’s pretty snappy. Not that Eunwoo doesn’t spend time on his craft, just that the simpler pieces take significantly less time to do than anything else Jungkook’s tried (with the added benefit of being in a medium wholly different to his go-to).

If he can pull this off, Jungkook will be one step closer to passing his midterm.

“Aish, fuck it,” he mutters, striding across the room to the dirty white plastic table stacked with his art supplies, picking up his phone with a concentrated furrow in his brow as he dials Y/N’s number from his Favorites list before bringing his phone up to his ear, anxiously chewing on his thumb.

She picks up on the fourth ring. “Kook-ah?”

“Y/N.” He automatically smiles at the sound of her voice. “Hey,” he sighs, “sorry for calling you so late—“

“Not at all, Kook. What’s up?”

“Are you busy right now?”

“No…?” She pauses a moment. “Why? Did you need something?”

Jungkook sighs into the other line, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah... Can you come to the studio?”

“The one on-campus?”

“어…”

“Sure. I’ll be there in five.”

🌕🌖🌗🌘🌑🌒🌓🌔🌕

“What haven’t you done?” Y/N asks as soon as she steps through the threshold, a teasing smile on her lips.

She throws a plastic bag filled with snacks beneath the table, the plastic inside crinkling on impact as she takes a seat on top.

“A project,” Jungkook laughs, hoping she doesn’t hear its nervous crack.

“How much’s it worth?”

“Like… half my grade.”

“Jungkook—“

“I know. I know, I’m sorry.”

She laughs, not unkindly. “What’re you apologizing to me for? It’s your grade.”

“I know,” he mumbles, running his palm over his face with a sigh. “I don’t know. I don’t like disappointing people.”

He looks at her with a pitiful smile. “You especially…”

Y/N’s brows furrow as she hops off the table to hold his hands, coaxing his gaze up with an encouraging tug. “I’m not disappointed, Kook.”

He nods noncommittally, tonguing at his lip ring while staring at their intertwined hands instead of her soft smile.

“What can I do to help?” she asks then, running her thumb over the back of his tattooed hand.

“Actually,” he sighs, “that’s why I called you.”

“Oh?” she asks, a smirk tugging at her lips.

Jungkook clears his throat and lets go of Y/N’s hands to show her the large tubes of acrylic paint he stole from Eunwoo’s work station. “I was hoping you’d model for me.”

Y/N’s eyes widen to the size of saucers, her lips parting in a surprised o-shape that makes Jungkook’s heart flutter. “M-model? For you?”

He smiles. “Yeah,” he says, “for me. You know how Eunwoo does body art?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, I needed to do something different for this project, and body art seemed like it’d be the fastest and most efficient option, so…” He laughs awkwardly, tapping the tube of yellow paint against his thigh. “Here we are.”

“Doesn’t Eunwoo usually hire models?” Y/N asks.

“Well, yeah, but…” Jungkook shrugs. “I figured you’d be willing to help a guy out.”

Y/N snorts, rolling her eyes with a growing smirk that makes Jungkook’s stomach twist. “You’re lucky you’re right, Wolfie.”

He scrunches his nose at the nickname, nevertheless feeling a massive weight lift off his shoulders when Y/N giggles and punches him in the arm, walking to the centre of the room with a happy smile.

“How do we do this?” she asks.

Jungkook hums thoughtfully, imagining how he’ll transfer the rough sketch he came up with while waiting for Y/N to arrive from the scrappy piece of paper he’d had lying around onto her skin.

“I’m not entirely sure,” he mumbles distractedly, sucking air in through his teeth as he finally settles on going greyscale, lining up the handful of paint tubes from lightest to darkest, turning to the side to grab different sized brushes and a plastic cup of water. “I’ve never done this before.”

“Obviously,” Y/N says, smiling at him when he turns around to give her a deadpan look. “Can I help?” she then asks, standing over his shoulder.

“Uhh…” He turns to her, suppressing his urge to scent her and instead wracks his brain for something for her to do. “Oh! Why don’t you get some of that plastic covering there against the wall and lay it down on the floor for me?”

“Where?” She eagerly grabs a clean roll and struts determinedly to the middle of Jungkook’s work area. “In the middle?”

“Yeah, there’s fine.”

“Why on the floor though? Also, does it matter? The floor’s just as paint-ridden as every other surface in this room.” Y/N laughs as she smooths the plastic crinkles out, ensuring it’s flat against the floor.

“It’s so you don’t get dirty,” Jungkook mutters, squeezing small amounts of paint onto his palette before grabbing his brushes and making his way over to where Y/N is now standing confused in the middle of the room.

“What do you mean?” she asks suspiciously, watching as Jungkook slowly crouches to put down the brushes and palette before going back to the desk to grab his water and set it down alongside his other tools.

“You’ll have to lay down on your stomach,” he says, laughing at the deadpan look she gives him. “What can I say? Your back is the perfect substitute for a canvas.”

Y/N sighs dramatically, getting down on her hands and knees with an old-man groan that makes Jungkook grin.

When Y/N sits back on her haunches and turns to look at him with a slight furrow in her brow, his grin dilutes only a little bit. “What is it?”

“I need to take my shirt off, don’t I?”

Well, shit.

“Uh…” Jungkook, also on his haunches, feels like an idiot as he gapes at her, trying to wrap his head around his current situation. “Well, yeah.”

He has to internally yell at his wolf to shut the fuck up. “You’ll have to take off your bra, too.”

Y/N’s eyes widen, and Jungkook hastily backtracks. “The strap’s gonna get in the way of the painting,” he explains, “so unless you’re fine with me painting over it…”

She bites down on her lip, nervously fiddling with her fingers in a way that makes Jungkook frown. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, Y/N. If you’re uncomfortable I can just paint over your shirt—“

She pulls a scandalized face. “No! This is my, like” —she tugs at the hem of her shirt, looking down at the Harley Quinn illustration with a furrow in her brow— “second favorite shirt.”

“Which one’s your favorite?” he asks, a little confused.

“The one with your face on it,” Y/N says with an evil grin, cackling when Jungkook deadpans at her.

Of course she’d like that one.

“Seriously though. You don’t have to,” Jungkook reassures her again, his palms flat against his thighs.

Y/N searches his face for a second before shaking her head. “It’s okay,” she says. “I can do it.”

Jungkook checks her face for any sign of hesitation before he nods and turns his head to the side, last-minute turning back to stop her. “Here.”

He tugs his shirt off and lays it down in front of her, spreading it a little before sitting back again. He clears his throat at the way Y/N’s eyes roam over his body, heat crawling up his back at the sensation.

“So you can lay down on it,” he explains hoarsely, clearing his throat again as he turns away, squeezing his eyes shut.

She whispers a thank you under her breath, the room turning dead-silent as Jungkook’s ears hone in on the sound of rustling fabric and a bra-clip being unhooked.

“‘M done, Kook-ah.”

Jungkook takes a deep breath, praying to whatever god is out there to help him be normal about this in ways he knows he’d be otherwise incapable of.

The moment he opens his eyes, all thought of normality flies out his brain like someone opened it up, called it empty and yeeted it across the room.

Y/N’s back is strangely ethereal.

Prominent shoulder blades guide his eyes down her spine, his eyes drinking in the valley of smooth skin like a starved animal.

The only thing that snaps him out of it is the sudden and very intense urge to lick her. (He blames his wolf and refuses to take accountability.)

Shaking his head on right, Jungkook hurries to shuffle closer, his legs tingling from disuse.

“So…” Y/N starts, clearly trying to fill the silence. “What are you painting?”

Jungkook laughs a little, grabbing the thickest brush he has and lathering it in titanium white, shifting close enough for his knees to touch Y/N’s sides. “I dunno if I should tell you.”

“What?” she whines. “Why?”

“Because you’ll make fun of me,” he says pettily, whispering a warning under his breath before setting the tip of his brush to her skin.

Y/N gasps at the sudden cold. Jungkook watches her with a tiny smile, waiting for her to relax her shoulders before he continues lathering paint on in the faint shape of a box.

“Just tell me.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Jungkook~” she whines, pulling a laugh from his throat with barely any effort at all.

He snickers as he shakes his head, finishing up the background before swirling the brush around in his water, grabbing a separate, thinner brush and dipping it in a blob of wet concrete-grey paint. “I’m drawing us.”

“Aww,” she squeals, giggling when Jungkook over dramatically sighs at her antics. “That’s super cute and all, Kook, but aren’t you supposed to be doing something different? You draw portraits of us all the time.”

“I know,” he says, tongue sticking concentratedly out the corner of his mouth. “That’s why I’m drawing us as animals.”

She gasps loudly. “Really!? Are you finally doing another Wolf-Y/N drawing?”

“I should keep that in mind for next time,” he chuckles. “But no, I’m making you a rabbit.”

“Of course you are,” she whispers, though Jungkook can’t help but think he hears a note of fondness in her voice. “So, what? You’re the big bad wolf, then?”

“Since when was I bad?” Jungkook scoffs.

“I dunno. Since you started slacking on your school work.”

“It’s one time!”

“It’s worth half your grade!”

Jungkook pouts, humphing. “Whatever. It’s a cute painting.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. My wolf’s tail’s all curled up ‘round you… you’re all sleepy, ‘n’ stuff,” he mumbles.

Jungkook swears he hears a smile in Y/N’s voice as she says, “That is pretty cute.”

“Yeah…”

Their conversation trails off as Jungkook focuses on his work, gradually laying out the groundwork for the line art.

When he finally starts working on it, though, he mumbles a short apology before swinging a leg over Y/N’s ass, straddling her lower back so he’s centered.

“You okay?” he asks, trying to keep his weight off her back.

“Yeah, ‘m fine.”

“Don’t need a break?”

“I’m fine, Kook. You can keep going.”

Jungkook clears his throat, mentally swatting the dirty thoughts away as he leans down to start on the line art, using his wrist to keep his hand steady as he uses his arm to keep his lines smooth and at an even thickness level.

“Would you have gotten someone else?”

“What?” Jungkook asks, leaning back to get a better view of his piece, but also to try and shake off the feeling of your skin on his palm.

“If I said I couldn’t make it, would you have gotten someone else to model for you?” Y/N asks, trying (and failing) to keep her voice neutral and nonchalant.

“No,” he says. “I don’t think I would have.”

“Why not?” she whispers, her heart beating a little louder in her chest.

Jungkook shrugs even though she can’t see. “I dunno. This feels too… intimate, to do with anyone else,” he admits, leaning back down to finish up the bunny’s line work so he can move on to the smaller details.

She hums softly, the vibration tangible against Jungkook’s hand. He’s been so hyper-focused on every little feel, he barely has time to register what he’s doing before he finds himself with his nose pressed to the back of Y/N’s neck.

“Kook-ah?” she whispers, a shiver running down her spine as Jungkook huffs out against her skin, hot all over and a little dizzy.

“Sorry, bunny,” he mumbles, squeezing his eyes shut. “You smell nice.”

She giggles, and Jungkook relishes in the wave of oxytocin that blasts him right in the face.

“You know, sometimes it’s like you can’t go thirty minutes without doing something to remind me you’re part dog.”

“I’m not a dog,” Jungkook grumbles, unaware of the slight growl in his voice as he takes another whiff of Y/N’s scent, letting it wash over him.

She shivers again, and that seems to be adequate enough for his wolf to let Jungkook pull away again. He mumbles an apology as he brushes her hair over her shoulder, sitting up straight and taking a moment to breathe deeply.

“You smell nice too, by the way.”

Jungkook laughs a little, wiping off a small smudge of paint as he finally stands to grab the digital camera he keeps for the moments when he wants to capture something he’s made for later review, wiping his paint-stained hands down on his pants.

“Is that so?” he teases lightly, telling Y/N to stay still as he stands over her, lining up the shot and taking a couple before he finally gives her the okay.

“You have a really nice smell,” she explains almost defensively, pulling her shirt back on while Jungkook’s back is to her. “You smell like… like rain, and that vanilla laundry detergent you like so much.”

She bends to grab and then throw Jungkook’s shirt at him, smiling as he leans back against the table with a smile of his own.

“I’m glad you think it’s nice,” he says, not bothering to hide the smugness to his tone but hoping she can’t tell with some kind of best friend magic that her liking the way he smells can also be interpreted as a (as she would call it,) “wolfy” thing.

Doesn’t matter, doesn’t matter, doesn’t matter, he drills to himself.

“Whatever. You took pictures?” She stands next to him.

“Mm. I’ll give you a copy once I get them printed.”

She smiles. “Thanks.”

“‘Course, bunny.”

Rolling her eyes, Y/N stands on the tips of her toes to wrap an arm around Jungkook’s shoulders, guiding him out the door with a strength and determination that surprises him.

“Now,” she says, “let’s get fucked. I know a great place like, down the road from here.”

<- prev | next ->

[mikkomacko]

Him and I - Boss

Mob!Nico Hischier x Reader

Previous

Warnings: blood, violence, murder, Nico and reader fight a lot

A/n: Ok this one has a lot going on but I couldn't just skip over reader and Nico recovering from her being taken. The next chapter will be much sweeter, I swear!

Enjoy!

_____________________________________________________________

For the whole trip, every time Nico closed his eyes he could see it perfectly. The mountains in the back, snow capped and beautiful. You love the mountains in the winter, love the snow.

He’d make sure you’re wearing that cute red and white snowsuit you love, the one he’d gotten you for snowmobiling last year. He was gonna take you to get your nails done, help you pick out a cute pearly white color and then sit with you and let them paint a clear coat on his own finger nails and do the whole hand massage and oil thing. And he was gonna act like he hated it, like he was doing you a favor when I reality he loved it. All because it made you smile.

Then he was gonna take up the gondola, let you take selfies with him kissing your cheeks or squishing your cheeks together. Dinner at the resort, fancy and expensive and beautiful, all things you deserve.

When the sun started to set, alpenglow hitting the peaks of the mountain you’d have the perfect view from the private table. And he get down on his knee, just like you asked, and pull out the ring he’d had made specifically for you by the watchmaker he loves, and tell you everything. Tell you how much he loves you, how you steady him and make everything seem so easy, how you quiet his mind and make his heart race, how you took a stupid, rich teenage boy and turned him into a man he is proud to be.

And he’d ask you to marry him. And you’d say yes, obviously. He’d slide the ring on and kiss you, hold your pretty face between his palms until the sun set and he could take you home, kiss you even more. Spread you out on the bed and fuck you until the sun rose again in the morning.

It was going to be perfect.

He thinks of that as he stares at your left hand, ring finger bare and cold in his palm. This time tomorrow and you would’ve had your ring, the third item to solidify not only your place in his life, but in the Devs.

That’s the order him and the others agreed on for partners year ago. The pendant of the Devil, to show that you’re protected by them. The ring engraved with your name and little flames, always worn on the right pinky by members but anywhere on the body for partners. Yours sits around the chain on your neck, clinks against the pendant. It shows that you’re one of them, a member of the family.

And finally the wedding ring, the thing that gives you his last name and his power. It shows his love for you. The most important one of all.

The sudden blimp of the heart monitor scares him, has him jolting to his feet and squeezing your hand as he looks to the screen. Your heart rates keeps spiking, beeping loudly in the room and he manages to catch your right hand as you reach up for your neck.

“You’re ok, you’re ok,” he quickly soothes, preventing you from touching the brace the doctors strapped around your neck.

Your eyes are wide and terrified when they meet his, gaze darting between his eyes in confusion and panic. Your lips part to speak but he shushes you before you do.

“No baby don’t talk, it’s ok.” He squeezes your hands, brings them back down to the hospital bed. “You’re just a little swollen, ok? The brace is to help bring it down.”

He waits for you to calm down, the monitor slowing back to normal before letting go. You inhale shakily through your nose, breath quivering when you exhale.

Smoothing your hair down, he rests his free hand against the side of your head and looks you over. Despite the bandage on your forehead and the puffiness of your eyes, you look so beautiful. If he ignores the brace and the cotton, you don’t even look hurt.

His heart squeezes.

“I’m so sorry y/n,” he whispers, feeling physically itchy with guilt. “I shouldn’t have left you alone, I should’ve listened to you and taken you right home.”

Tears build up in your waterline, taunting him and he starts shaking his head. He really does not want to see you cry.

“Sorry,” you whisper instead, voice raw and hoarse. He’s not sure if you’re even supposed to be talking, the doctors didn’t tell him. “I know better, should’ve stayed with you.”

Chest aching, he leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead, being mindful of any injuries he may bump. “We’ll talk about it when you’re better, yeah? You can tell me what happened.”

He pulls back to see you stiffly nod, as best you can around the brace. Wiping away the stray tear on your cheek, he huffs out a breath and tries to relax.

It’s impossible.

“I’m gonna get a nurse,” he steps back, turning to find the call button. Your hand latches around his like a vice, body jolting up in the bed and he freezes, finger hovering over the phone symbol.

You look a little confused by your own actions, lips parted and eyebrows furrowed, but your eyes tell him everything. They always have.

You’re scared.

A part of him melts knowing that in moments of fear you want him, that you see him as safety and protection. It’s not anything new, but Nico likes the reminder. It means he’s doing something right.

The rest of him just feels angry. He’s so fucking angry that he let this happen, that he let his stubbornness and rejection get you hurt.

“M’right here,” he swears, “was just gonna use the call button.”

Sheepishly, you nod and lay back against the pillows, watchful gaze following him as he presses on the button.

The nurse enters your private room, smiling when she sees that you’re up and coherent. Nico has to let go of your hand so she can check your vitals again but he stays planted right next to your head, watching over you.

She takes your blood pressure, asking you about how you’re feeling and letting you know that you can try to speak normally. There’s no drastic damage to your vocal cords, and use will help make sure you get your voice back.

Nico listens in but takes a second to text Timo and his family that you’re awake and talking. He’s not sure where Luca has taken Marcelo and Lena, but he assumes his brother will find time to stop by and let him know.

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

He puts his phone away, immediately tuning back into the conversation. The nurse is shining a light in your eyes, your dark pupil following it but he sees the confusion that clouds them all the same.

“I was at a party,” you reply, clearing your throat and wincing. You take a second to think, blinking when the nurse turns the light off. “I was at a party and-and I was mad at Nico and I didn’t know what anyone was saying…”

Nico thinks of Anna and her friends, confused because he knows she would translate for you and make sure to speak you to in English. Part of the reason he was ok with separating from you was because he trusts her to be watchful.

“I just needed a second of quiet so I went outside…” you continue “and then I remember a lot of blood and feeling really sick. And Nico was there.”

It’s terrible but he relaxes a bit after hearing that. Obviously it’s not great that you don’t remember; that means your head injury was pretty bad, but on the other hand he doesn’t want you remembering that.

It’s bad enough you remember him shooting Lena.

“Ok, good.” The nurse compliments. “That’s a great start. It’s typical that as you recover more memories will come back to you. There’s not really a time table for when but just keep that in mind.”

She goes over a few more things with you, making sure Nico is listening since you might have trouble remembering. He waits for her to leave before pulling out his phone, writing down the reminders in his notes apps even though he knows he won't forget.

He tucks it back in his pocket, looks up to see you watching him with sad eyes. "You look miserable," you say, reaching out towards him. Stepping closer, he lets you take a hold of his arm and pull him into sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Didn't think you'd remember me shooting Lena," he explains "I don't like when you see those things."

Your hand runs up his bicep and around his shoulder, finding the ends of his hair on the nape of his neck. "I'm glad," you say, a tiny smile on your lips. "I hate her."

"Yeah," he agrees, smiling a bit too.

"Did you kill her?"

He shakes his head. "Marcello?"

"No, not sure what Luca did with them yet."

You go quiet, fingers playing with his hair but your eyes get that far away look in them. "I get to do it," you finally murmur, eyes flickering up to his face. He can't stop the look of surprise on his face, eyebrows shooting up.

"If you decide to do something, I get to do it. At least to Marcello."

"No," Nico immediately declines, impressed by your request but not even considering it. "I'm not putting your prints on anything around that."

"You don't get to decide." you argue, eyes narrowing into a threatening look. "I'm the one laying in the hospital bed, I get to decide."

He scoffs back a laugh, feels the scold on the tip of his tongue because he's in charge, not you. Yeah he lets you pull him around a lot, but when it comes to people from his past, in his home country, hurting you? That's his to deal with.

"M'not budging on this y/n," he says instead "and I'm not fighting with you about it. I don't want you near them."

Your mad, he knows that. Can tell by the bratty way you roll your eyes, your hand falling from his hair as you cross your arms over your chest and turn your glare to the window. Even the tick of your jaw, knows your biting at the inside of your cheek.

Luckily the tension between you two is cut after a moment because Timo comes barreling into the room with a bag of goodies and Nico's siblings following behind him.

"Bestie boo," he cheers, and Nico rises from the bed to get out of the way. He doesn't miss the way you light up, all the fight in you dissipating as you too grin at Timo.

He begins to dump out the contents of the bag, a few drinks and snacks that you like, a fuzzy blanket from Nico's room back at the house and some clothes for you. Nico shakes his head, moving over to hug Nina and Luca.

"How's she doing?" Nina asks him quietly, glancing over at you and Timo. Luca leans in, wanting to listen in without letting you overhear.

"She's ok," Nico sighs, "been through worse but she's scared and a little confused still. Doesn't really remember what happened before we got there."

Nina frowns sympathetically. "Did she ask-"

"Yeah, she asked about them." He grumbles, rolling his eyes. "She wants to take care of Marcello but I don't want her near them so we gotta do it before she's released tomorrow."

Luca's eyes widen, an amused smile splitting his face. "Really? I underestimated her little bro. Maybe we should let her-"

"No."

"Come on Nico, its her right-"

"I said no." Both Luca and Nina step back at his tone, not used to hearing him like that. In all fairness, they haven't seen him this protective over something since he was 8 and found a stray cat on his walk home from school.

He clears his throat, rolls out the tension in his shoulders. "We're gonna do it tonight. Nina will stay here with her, make sure she's ok until I get back."

Zeroing in on his sister, he points back towards you. "Under no circumstance do you let her know what we're doing. And no matter how bratty and whiny she gets about it- because she will- do you sign her out early. I mean it Nina, no sisterhood here or whatever, she stays in that bed."

It's obvious she doesn't agree with him, the way she guiltily looks over his shoulder at you but either way she nods. "Understood, Nico."

"I'll tell Maja to come back her up," Luca says, "She won't crack like this one will."

Nico nods, thanking them before motioning over to you. The three siblings move closer, stand around the bed as Timo offers you his list of favorite movies to watch while your stuck in bed. You've laid the blanket out on your lap, the teddy bear from Nico's childhood bedroom squished under your elbow, and an open pint of Gelato in hand. Timo blabbers away, you lick at the spoon in hand, and just nod along.

You look happy. Eyes shining and cheeks smiling, and it's such a relief to Nico. Maybe he should leave Timo here with you, at least then you'll have a distraction you actually like. Unfortunately he needs his second hand man for this one, so you'll just have to deal.

Nina climbs up onto the bottom of the bed, adding her one thoughts on the movie Timo is gushing about and Luca takes over the chair at your bedside.

He smiles, reaches up to push back your hair and press the lightest kiss possible to your hairline. You ignore him, taking another bite of your dessert and laughing at something his sister says. Luca has dug out a spoon from somewhere, and he's reaching around Timo to steal from your pint.

You tilt it towards him, eyes widening when he takes a huge glob out and shoves it in his cheeks, smiling innocently. Nico can tell it'd coffee flavored now, your favorite, and he reaches for the spoon in your hand only for you to snatch it away.

Then your shooting him a cold look over your shoulder, simply tilting your head when he raises an unimpressed eyebrow at you. You turn back towards Timo, ignoring how both Luca and Nina are looking between you two with concern.

He huffs, clicks his jaw and looks at his sister.

Brat, he mouths, shaking his head when you share a bite with Timo this time. What is he going to do with you?

~~~~

The nurse comes back a few hours later. Your squished on the bed with Nina, laptop hooked up to the TV and watching a movie about rowing that Timo really liked. Him and Nico have folded the couch down into a bed, and they're sprawled out on it eating chips watching as well. Luca fell asleep about ten minutes in, sock clad feet propped up on your bed and head rolled back on the chair.

You're all so engrossed in the movie you don't notice her at first. At least until the lights are flickering back on and everyone is temporarily blinded.

Shooting up like their asses are on fire, Timo clambers to his feet and pauses the movie. Nico rises, shoving his feet back in his shoes and walking over to you bedside.

"Sorry to interrupt, I just came to see how you're feeling and offer to take that brace for you."

Sighing out in relief. "Oh god yes please," you practically beg, sitting up. Nina slips off the bed and over by Timo, motioning for a bleary eyed Luca to follow. He yawns, smacks his lips before getting up and dragging his feet over.

"We're uh gonna step out." Timo offers, turning towards the door and pushing Nico's siblings out with him. He shakes his head, watches them all leave the room without their shoes.

"It must be nice, having so many friends around." The nurse comments, pulling on latex gloves.

"Yeah," you agree, "I'd be miserable laying here all day without them."

Nico stands over you again, protective and watchful as the nurse steps up to your side and reached towards the brace.

"It's gonna be sore and uncomfortable, but the swelling should be gone for the most part," she informs and you nod. "I am going to bring you an ice pack to keep on it just for comfort and it'll help with bruising."

You take a deep breath, nod again and her fingers latch on the velcro in the back. Squeezing your eyes shut, the sound of the velcro unsticking cuts through the room and you jump just the slightest bit.

His hand finds yours, fingers intertwining and you squeeze hard enough that your nails pinch at his skin. Not that he cares, not when the brace falls loose and away from your neck, and he's coming face to face with the lines of bruising.

It looks awful, all dark blue and purple. You wince, the column of your throat flinching and Nico thinks he might throw up. Fuck, he doesn't even know how you've been talking and laughing so much with that kind of injury.

Finally, you open your eyes and let out a shaky breath. Titling your head up, you let the nurse gently feel over the tender flesh. You squeeze his hand tighter, looking up at the ceiling and blinking back tears.

"You're hurting her," Nico grumbles, and the nurse removes her hands.

"I'm ok," you swear, "really you didn't have to-"

"Yeah you did," Nico cuts in, shooting you a warning look. "Let her at least ice it before you go poking around."

Pursing her lips, the nurse inhales and nods. "I'll be back with ice," she tells you, taking the brace with her. "but you're looking really good so far. It could've been a lot worse."

Neither you nor Nico speak until she's left the room. The door clicks shut and you're taking your hand out of his, instead tucking them under your arms.

"She's just doing her job," you mumble, staring ahead rather than at him. He huffs, annoyance bubbling under his skin and he rakes his hands through his hair.

"Ok you can be mad at me," he grits, "but you don't get to act like this. If you're gonna be a brat go ahead, but not in front of everyone like that. I'm trying to look out for you-"

"I can take care of myself!"

"You obviously can't!" He exclaims, a little harsher than he meant to but it gets the point across because you're actually looking at him right now. "Look at where we are, y/n. You couldn't take care of yourself, fuck even I couldn't take care of you."

Your eyes shift, realization setting in. "Nico..."

"Be mad at me, baby, please do but until we're back home I'm in charge. And I'm not taking any fucking chances."

His chest is heaving when he's done, guilt settling into the place of the anger when he looks at your stupidly soft eyes and the bruises that marr your skin.

You don't say anything for a moment, and he rubs at his forehead where he's got a headache building. "I want to take a shower," you finally say. "Will you sit in there with me?"

He nods. "Yeah of course."

~~~~

Timo, Luca, and Nina have returned to the room when Nico follows you out of the bathroom. Someone has made your bed for you, the fuzzy blanket you love laid out nicely with the teddy bear tucked against the pillows. You've changed into sweats and one of Nico's shirts, already feeling better now that you're clean and back in your own clothes.

You can tell the moment they register the bruises on your neck and the stitches on your forehead. It's like all the air is sucked out of the room, the sharp inhale of Nina rattling you.

Shrinking into yourself, you force a small smile as you climb back onto the bed. You can feel Nico glaring at them over your head, biting back a laugh when it has the same effect on his older siblings as it does his men. He's so good at bossing people around.

"It'll look better when I ice it," you say, combing through your damp hair. Nico runs a hand up your spine, gingerly holds the back of your neck.

"It looks fine now," he responds, "trust me, nothing could ever make you look not beautiful."

You tilt your head back, meeting his gaze and smiling gratefully. He ducks down, kisses between your eyes before taking the brush for you and finishing untangling you hair.

"The only one of us that looks pathetic with bruises is Nico," Timo jokes, sending you a wink. "That's why they take months to go away on him."

"That and he's always pressing on them." You respond, giggling when Nico scoffs behind you.

"I forgot to tell him to grab your bathroom stuff," Nico changes the subject "so I don't have any of your hair products."

"That's ok-"

"I can braid your hair for you!" Nina offers, smiling widely. "I love to braid other people's hair and I never get to. "

You laugh. "Yeah okay!"

Nico moves out the way, handing the hair brush and a tie to his sister. She stands behind you, carefully dragging the brush through your hair again. Nico sits at the foot of the bed, watching his sister with apprehensive eyes.

"Watch out for her stitches Nina."

You roll your eyes. "I know Nico," she scoffs, "I am older than you, ya know?"

He holds his hands up in defense but stays exactly where he is. Thankfully Nina is really careful when she parts and braids your hair, leaving it loose so it'll still dry but also not pull at your stitches. The soothing motion of her fingers and Nico's protective gaze lull you, and by the time she's done your blinking sluggishly at your boyfriend.

"Alright," he grunts, rising from the bed. "I think it's nap time for you baby."

There's something off about him when he helps you slip under the blankets, tucking his teddy bear into your chest and pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead. He exchanges an odd look with his brother before perching on the edge of the bed, cupping the side of your face in his warm palm.

You yawn, snuggle into his hold. "M'gonna put the TV back on for you, ok?"

Eyes fluttering, you nod.

"I gotta run for a bit but I'll be back before you know it. And you can call me if you need absolutely anything."

The thing about Nico is that he never likes to tell the full story. He's not usually like that with you but with the younger boys, yeah. And you can always tell when he does it because he gets all calm and sweet about it, more than he usually is. He also gets vague.

Which is how you know this run he is taking, obviously with his brother, is to take care of Lena and Marcello. Hurt, you sit up and look at him with knowing eyes, hoping he'll cave and tell you the truth.

Instead he clears his throat, looks down at his feet and then runs his hands over his thighs. "I uh, I put Luca's number in your phone too, just in case." He says, getting up and moving around the room to collect his things.

Crouching down, he hits play on the laptop for you. You look over at Timo, see the guilty pull on his face. Luca looks guilty too but when he meets your gaze, he winks and then sticks his tongue out at his brother.

"Good, get outta here." Nina cuts in, voice far too cheery to be believable. "We need girl time, I'm inviting Maja."

Nico's tucking his wallet back into his jeans pocket when he finally looks at you again, jaw ticking when you simply stare back at him with begging eyes. You want to yell at him, to cry, to tell him that you deserve to have a place in this. That you need this.

Instead you bite your tongue, turn your gaze to the window outside when your eyes sting, and silently wait for them to leave. You hear him sigh, then his footsteps as he heads towards the door. Timo is the only one to call out goodbye.

Feeling betrayed, you ignore them all, even Nina, and close your eyes. You have a headache again.

~~~~

You wake up from the insistent buzzing of your phone, sleep riddled brain assuming it’s Nico. When you read the screen it’s not in fact your boyfriend, but might as well be.

“Hey Holtzy,” you answer, looking around the hospital room. Nina and Maja are nowhere to be seen, but neither are Nico and Timo. Your stomach twists, anger bubbling in your throat.

“Oh god you sound awful,” he moans woefully. “I told Nico he should’ve let me go too. With three of us there you’d have been fine.”

“I am fine,” you insist, forcing a laugh. “It’s really not that bad, Nico is just dramatic.”

“Well yeah he’d probably die without you.”

Your heart warms. The boys used to always tell you how tough he was, how the only thing that kept them from messing up was that terrifying flare in his eyes when he’s pissed. It’s sweet that they point out how loving he is with you.

“You’d all die without me,” you reply, looking up as Nina and Maja enter the room. They carrying bags of food, Nina waving around the packages in greeting.

Forcing a smile, you gently wave back. If her and Maja are still here that means Nico is still gone. And it’s been hours. There’s only one thing a man that protective and angry can be doing for this long.

Wreaking havoc. Havoc you should be a part of. You bite your cheek.

“Oh yeah,” Alex agrees easily. He gets quiet for a moment. “Can I FaceTime you? Just to see that you’re ok?”

You melt. “Yeah of course.”

Pulling the phone back from your ear, you hit the FaceTime button. It rings for a half second and then a grainy picture of Alex pops up.

“Hi mom,” he greets, the picture coming into focus. He’s got that big, cheesy Alex smile on his face and it’s makes you laugh.

“Shut up,” you giggle, then realize the background behind him. “Are you in my room?”

Alex pulls the phone back, holding it up so you can see that he’s actually tucked under the blankets like he’s sleeping there. You catch a flash of the paws of the dog at his feet. At least you know he’s actually taking care of your baby.

“You asked me to house sit.”

“I thought you might sleep in the room I decorated and made for you.”

“I like your bed,” he shrugs, putting the phone back down. “And I miss you. And Nico too I guess but don’t tell him in your bed. Wait- he’s not listening right?”

You laugh again. “No he’s not here right now. I’m with his sisters.”

"He's not with you? That's fucked. I'll go out right now and sit there with you. So will Merc and Luke, they told me."

A part of you wants to say yes. "I'll be ok. You know how Nico is, I probably won't see him again until it's time to go home."

Alex makes a noise of disagreement. “Timo made it seem like you were dying, ya know? Like I thought we were about to be taken out to Switzerland to wage war, he was so angry.”

You shrug, flattered but mostly annoyed. “Yeah, I like that idea."

Alex hums, the line going quiet for a moment. “Well I’m really glad you’re ok,” he murmurs “and I’m sorry it happened to you. I can’t imagine how scary that would be.”

You shrug again. “I mean, worse has happened. Besides, I knew what I was getting into when I got with Nico. It’s just a part of the life.”

“Crappy though, that it always happens to you.” He comments.

“Only twice,” you awkwardly laugh. “Besides, I got Johnny out of it the last time so.”

“So even though it was worse at least you got your Italian buddy.”

You nod, trying not to think about the run in with the Flyers all that time ago. Honestly, you’re lucky that as the girlfriend of a very powerful mob boss, you haven’t been taken and threaten more. You suppose that’s a testament to Nico and how he trains his men.

“Ok I know it’s late there so go to bed, yeah? I’ll talk to you tomorrow?”

Alex sighs but nods. “Ok, call me if you get sad or lonely.”

You bite back a laugh, knowing he’s the one that’s lonely and wants to talk but won’t admit it. “Of course,” you agree. “Night Holtzy.”

“Night y/n. Feel better.”

You wave, waiting for him to hang up first. When he does you drop your phone to the bed, expectantly looking over at the girls.

If they can read your gaze, they don’t say anything about it. Instead Maja tilts her head sympathetically. “How are you doing sweets?”

“Fine,” you respond, raising an eyebrow at Nina who is pointedly avoiding your eyes. “Nico still gone?”

Frowning, she looks at you guiltily. Her eyes look so much like Nico’s. “Yeah he’s still out.”

You nod, checking the time, wishing you were home. You already miss Alex. It's torture, sitting and stewing in this bed as you go over and over the words you should've told Nico. You feel helpless, almost as helpless as being tied to a fucking chair. Especially when you go to get up from bed and both Nina and Maja rise too.

They're under orders from Nico. They're your security guards. You almost roll your eyes, veins hot with rage and disbelief.

"I was just gonna go for a walk." You say.

"We'll come with!"

"No, that's ok," you decline, tilting your head, daring Nina to argue. "I have a headache and just need quiet. Besides your eating, I'll only be ten minutes."

She hesitates, shares a look with Maja but eventually they both settle back onto the couch. You think Nico and her might have underestimated how scary you can be when you're enraged.

Without another word, you grab and phone and make your way out of the room. You go slow, not wanting to worry them but truth is you feel fine aside from the head and neck pain.

Waiting until your a few corridors away from your room, you pull out your phone and pull up Luca's contact. You hit call, holding it up to your ear. It rings for awhile but he does pick up.

"Well hello there," he greets smugly. "I had a feeling this was coming."

You smirk, pleased to know you gauged him correctly. "Don't act too chummy, Nico will know it's me." You warn, looking around for Nina or Maja. No one has followed you.

"I need a favor."

You can hear his delighted smile even if you can't see it.

"Hit me with the plan, then."

~~~~

The plan comes through the next morning. Nico has yet to return from his "business" and you know he must be taking it seriously because he's yet to notice that late last night you had his jet fly to Newark and back, this time with your men onboard.

Luca, as the king of Switzerland, used his pull to get you discharged early, hours earlier than Nico had originally planned. You're already up and silently packing your things when the doctor comes in with the discharge forms. The click of the door wakes Nina from her slumber on the couch bed, and she sits up all bleary eyed and confused, looking around the room with confusion.

You don't even bother greeting the doctor, just take the form and sign it, stuffing the recovery papers in your bag.

"What's going on?"

You look over your shoulder at her. "I'm going home early," you say, tucking your phone into your pocket. Nina quickly gets up, stumbling to find her shoes.

"You can't-"

"If you and Nico want to play games with me, that's fine." You cut off harshly, "but I can play them back. Rat me out, call Nico, I don't care, you're not stopping me."

"Y/n..." she sighs sadly, and you're a little disappointed in her lack of fight. Turning around, you cross your arms and glare at her.

"You of all people should get it Nina," you scold "I deserve to fight this fight for myself. I was the one hurt, not Nico or you or Timo. I gave up my whole fucking life, my family for this and no matter how much I train or help out you still think it's ok for Nico to stick me with a babysitter and lie to me?

"I'm just as capable as the rest of you."

Nina looks guilty, her features melting down into one of shame and you'd maybe feel bad if you weren't so upset.

"I- I'm not gonna call Nico," Nina murmurs, "you're right, you deserve to see them at the least so go ahead. Just let me know if you need anything ok?"

"Thank you," you say earnestly. "I'll keep you updated."

She quickly walks over, gently hugs you and strokes through your hair. "Be safe, be smart."

You grin, nodding in agreement before stalking out the room. Luca has arranged for a car to pick up Mercer, Luke, Jack, and Alex from the airport, and that car sits outside the hospital doors when you step out.

The windows are tinted so dark you can't see through them, but Mercer rolls down the passenger seat window to grin at you. You light up at the sight of his gapped smile, laughing as you yank open the doors and climb in.

"Why hello boys," you greet, turning around to smile at the triplets in the back. Alex reaches forward, ruffles your hair.

"Good to see ya boss." Jack greets, kneeing the back of your seat.

"Where are we heading?"

You roll up the window, punch in the address to the house you've been staying at. "Need a quick stop to change and get my things, then we've got ourselves a hot date."

Mercer pulls out onto the road, smirking devilishly as he does so.

~~~~

Luca's funny, you'll give him that. He's left Lena and Marcello and whatever other aiders and abetters locked up in the same house they'd taken you too. The car Nico and Timo have been driving around is parked in the drive, and you and the boys pull up next to it and hop out.

"Everything should be in the trunk," you instruct, knowing Luca left it unlocked. Sure enough when Jack pulls the hatch open, an array of guns, ropes, knives, and weapons are splayed out.

The boys are all eager as they choose their guns, Luke giggling goofily as he stocks up on ammo. You let them all pick first, tying the signature red bandana around the tender skin of your throat. They've all knotted theirs around the meat of their thigh, bright against their black jeans.

You take a pistol and three rounds of ammo, stuffing them into the black cargos you put on earlier. Just in case, you hook a medium sized knife on the waistband too. The sleek and thin tranquilizing gun they never use slips easily into your waistband too.

"Alright, we're going around back. Luca's left a window open that Jack can slip through to let us in the door. I'll lead us down to the basement and you'll follow my lead."

Lined up like soldiers, they all nod in agreement.

"Any instructions from Nico go unheard, you're with me and will follow my orders. If he tries to fight us, I will take care of it."

"Yes boss," they chirp in unison and you can't help but smirk. Nico has trained them well, you'll give him that. Too bad he also trained them to be loyal to you too.

You don't remember much about the house, just that the floors were white when you got there, and red when you left. In a way it's nice that you don't remember, it makes it easier to step inside and silently cross the large room. The chair you'd been tied to is nowhere to be seen, but the large pool of dried, flaking blood still is. You're unsure of how much of it is yours and how much of it is Lena's.

The boys are bit too heavy footed on the staircase down to the basement, so by the time you're stepping through the threshold all eyes are already watching. Both Nico and Timo are armed, the barrel of their guns trained on you. Luca is holding his lazily, looking proud when you meet his gaze, your own pistol in hand.

Nico's eyes are furious. You've never seen them so black, so enraged before and it makes you're blood boil. You're very confident you can out-anger him.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" He demands, but you ignore him, instead looking around the room. The floor is a dull, cement grey color with drains. There's doors to other hallways or rooms, you assume, most likely holding places for hostages. You don't need to explore them luckily, because the two people of concern are chained on their knees at your boyfriend's feet anyway.

"Let me in or I'm jumping down the stairs," Jack comments behind you, and you catch the way Nico bawks, obviously recognizing the voice. Motioning behind you for them to follow, you take a few steps further in. One-by-one they file in, lining up next to you with their guns in hand.

"Are you-fuck y/n..." Nico's staggering for words, clicking the safety back on his gun and shoving it his waistband behind his back Timo does the same, but Luca just casually waves his at you.

You meet the burning gaze of Nico, take in how splotchy his cheeks have gotten, how his eyebrows scrunch and teeth clench. He's got that mean flare of his nose and curl of his lips, but you don't care.

He angers even more at your lack of response, snarling as he steps forward and you can already sense him reaching out to take ahold of your wrist. You flinch, step back and lifting your pistol towards him. It's on safety, he knows that, you know that. But the motion stops him all the same.

Freezing, he narrows his eyes at you. It's a cruel look, mocking and cold. "You're not gonna shoot me, sweetheart."

You shrug, tucking the gun away on the holster o your thigh. Nico smirks, amused and condescending. The look doesn't last long, not after you draw out the tranquilizing and aim at the thick part of his thigh.

"You must think I'm really fucking stupid, huh?" you spit, so angry you feel like you're vibrating. You don't give him the chance to respond. "A fragile little lapdog of a mob wife, stuck in a locked room with a fucking babysitter. Laying around and waiting for you to fix everything."

The pause in your words gives him a chance to speak. "I left you somewhere safe," he hisses "I left you in the best place to be dotted on and cared for while you get better! I-"

"You lied to me!" You yell, "you looked me in the eye and said you had errands to run, that you'd be back soon. And you knew I didn't believe it, you knew how much it fucking hurt and you still did it!"

He scoffs, shaking his head and you know he's trying to blow you off, trying to take control of everything like he always does. Clicking his tongue he looks behind you at the boys.

"Take her and get out," he barks, letting his gaze linger on all of them. When they don't budge, he gets angrier.

"Now, you little shits! You shouldn't even be here!"

Loyal, none of them move. You tilt your head, smug when he looks at you.

"Aim," you instruct, and as if they were being controlled by puppet strings, all four boys lift their weapons and aim at Nico's feet. Shocked, he looks around bewildered.

"You see, when I told them that their boss had left abandoned me at the hospital for hours to keep me from fighting my own battles, they were pissed. I mean everyone knows how you've been training me, how hard you and Timo have been pushing me so that Philly never happens again, and then you take away something I've earned, well they were upset.

"Rightfully so since they're my men as well."

Nico looks around for help, shooting Timo and Luca a look as if to say "what the fuck is happening?". He must read his brother really well though, because his shoulders tense when he sees Luca's sparkling eyes.

"Luca, you didn't," he sighs, "tell me you're not in on this."

The older Hischier purses his lips, waits a moment before taking a step over to join you. "She had a good plan," he defends "and good reasoning for being here."

Lining up next to the boys, Luca joins them in aiming at Timo's feet.

"I know you don't get it Nico," you comment "I know you think that you were doing the right thing, that you were protecting me. But you never even stopped to consider what this means for me.

"I've spent so many nights dreaming about Philly, I wake up with my hands numb from all the times I've imagined fighting back, proving myself. Because it was humiliating and dehumanizing, and I'll never get the revenge I deserve for what happened."

Your words have stalled him, shaken him if the softening brown of his eyes is anything to go by. If there's anyone that loathes Philly as much as you do, it's Nico.

"Almost as humiliating as having my supposed fiance lie to my face in front of his whole family, force my best friend to turn his back on me, treat me like some broken little girl.

"I'm not broken, I can handle this life, I chose this life. And you don't get to decide when and where I can actually be a part of it."

Knowing you've got him, you tuck away the tranquilizing gun in exchange for your pistol. Clicking the safety off, you step towards Nico. He looks almost ashamed now, like a puppy that's been kicked and scolded too many times.

"Did you stop for a moment and think that maybe I'd get my memories back if I got to come here again? If I got to see them? That maybe I can piece together what happened if I looked them in the eye one last time?"

Embarrassed, he shakes his head and reaches out for your hip. "I don't want you to remember, I don't want you knowing how they hurt you."

Stepping away from him, you scoff. "You don't get to choose that Nico! I deserve to know everything."

With a flick of your hand over your shoulder, the boys all follow closer behind you, their weapons pushing Nico off to the side so you can step around him.

"I also deserve to keep my promise." You murmur, finally taking in the two kneeling before you. They look awful. Marcello, bloodied and bruised, shaking on the cement floor. He doesn't even look up at you.

Lena on the other hand does, not as badly beaten as her cohort, but her lip is split open and there's an old ratty bandage around her thigh, blood stained and brown.

She's crying when she meets your gaze, begging and pathetic, and it makes you laugh. You don't break eye contact as you aim the gun at Marcello.

"I did say I'd be the one putting the bullet between his eyes, didn't I?"

You don't wait for her to answer, finger easily finding the trigger and with a ringing bang, Marcello slumps to the floor. Lena screams, wails harder and harder.

"Y/n, please. I'm sorry, I didn't-"

You lock the gun and put it away, cutting her off with a gentle shush. "I'm not gonna kill you," you tell her. "I'm not even gonna touch you. It's beneath me really.

"Making bad people suffer, however isn't. So I have a plan for you, with the help of my brother-in -law back there that controls all of Switzerland."

Lena sniffles, hiccuping and shaking her head.

"As of now you're no longer a Swiss citizen. You and you're family have been exiled, away from Europe and away from North America. And when I unchain you and I fix up that thigh of yours, you gonna be escorted out without a single belonging. In fact, I think your parents have just been deported.

"Anyway, you're going to hobble out of here and be grateful that I'm such a forgiving person. Because I should kill you, for what you did to me, for what you did to Nico, using him like that. Instead you'll spend the rest of your life poor and pathetic, and when you think of me you'll remember that not only am I sleeping with the Jersey king every night, but the Swiss one takes orders from me as well."

Glaring, you turn to Mercer and nod towards Lena. "Unchain her and take her upstairs, I know a real cozy spot she can wait in while I finish up."

~~~~

You've calmed down by the time you finish cleaning and stitching up Lena's bullet wound. So has Nico, who's standing by the open hatch of the car, head hanging low as he changes out of his stained and dirty shirt.

He looks up when he hears your footsteps, everything in his gaze hurt and sad. You imagine you look the exact same.

You pause in front of him, begin unloading the weapons from your pants. "You left me there overnight," you mumble, placing the guns and ammo back where they belong.

"I was trying to hurry, I promise."

"No you weren't" you laugh humorlessly "because you were mad and hurt, and I was hurt, so you wanted them to hurt even more." He doesn't even deny it.

"I had a nightmare," you admit, voice wobbling. "that I was back here and everytime you got close enough to me, I'd blink and it'd be Marcello instead. It really sucked to wake up and not be able to tell if it was a dream, because you still weren't there."

Nico sniffles and you look up to find him standing over you, eyes glossy and red-rimmed. "I had to do something," he explains, voice cracking. "I was so fucking angry and guilty I thought I was gonna explode. And I didn't want you seeing me like that."

You frown. "I'm not scared of you Nico, ever."

"You might have been, if you saw the way I tore through everyone in there."

"When are you going to understand that I'll always pick you, I'll always be on your side? Even when you pull shit like this?"

His hands find your hips, drawing you the slightest bit closer to him. "When are you going to understand that I love you more than anything in the world? That I get mean and tough because I'd literally fucking die without you, and that's scary. And I don't know how to show you that, so I do it by protecting you."

You reach out for his shoulders, let your fingers feel the smooth skin of him, pink and cold in the winter air. "You can protect me and still let me rule by your side," you tell him. "I didn't want to come here and hurt them, interfere with you. But I needed to see it, for myself."

Nico nods, his wet eyes searching your face. "I'm so sorry, baby. I should've let you fight with me, be a brat whatever. Most of the time it's for my own good anyway."

"Yeah it is," you smile. "and I'm still upset."

He sniffles, blinking rapidly as a tear slips down his cheek. "I'll make it up to you, shoot me with the stupid dart or whatever you want. Lesson learned."

You laugh a bit at that, lean in to brush your nose against his. "I make a pretty good prinzessin, huh?"

Biting his lip, he smirks. "A fucking sexy one too. Not used to my pillow prinzessin walking all over me like that, but it looked good on you."

"It was tiring," you mumble, eyelashes fluttering. "I don't think I'd like to do it all the time."

"No?" He hums, "That's ok, you can just fill in for me whenever you feel like it."

"Ok," you agree, and then your pressing your lips to his for what feels like the first time in years. He's soft and warm, licking teasingly at your bottom lip and then dipping his tongue in when you part your mouth for him.

Nico always kisses you like honey, no fight is ever gonna change that.

Next

[houserautha]

Ok, okay listen I have a mighty neeed to say this!

How would Feyd-Rautha feel about having a wife who’s sensual???❤️Hear me out, his spouse comes from a small planet called Eros (Greek word for passionate love) and it’s basically the opposite of Giedi Prime, the people are loving, gentle and highly romantic individuals. Even worse they are pacifists! At first Feyd is like eww wtf is that culture? Never heard of such a thing, but when it’s time to meet the bride he sees her and is bewitched…

She has long rapunzel hair cascading down her back, or in a braid. She’s gentle with the maids and teaches them how to put flowers in her hair.

Always had luxurious perfumes and oils. Runs Feyd these big bubble baths and soothes his wounds.

Has the best fruits and sweets shipped in from her planet. Loves telling stories to children, like one of those lovely kindergarten teachers and she thanks everyone for their help.

Loves to paint, and do artsy stuff that Feyd just doesn’t understand where is the war? The bloodshed! The chaos—oh she made me a painting of my battles! Oh that’s so😍

Kisses Feyd’s bruises and at first he’s like cut that out! But then he’s like “Where are my kisses?” “I demand your affection woman.” And she’s like you don’t have to beg. Black cat hubby vibes🐈‍⬛

Gives him good massages too. Will brutally kill and then surely die if she offers anyone else a massage.

Soft and siren like singing voice, plays the harp. Even the Baron is impressed and wants her to play for their events everytime.

“Pick up the blade and defend yourself wife! You never know when you’ll need to, especially if I’m not home to protect you.” His wife just shrugs “But darling, I don’t believe in violence.” Feyd take as deep breath and closes his eyes.

Speaks in a gentle tones “Hello Rabban how are—?” Feyd: “Don’t speak to him he’s a brute!” Rabban is touched that she cares but also jealous that Feyd always gets the most beautiful things offered to him. Even a caring bride.

Extremely calm and seductive. No voice or Bene Gesserit skills needed. Feyd storms in stressed, covered in blood from one his fights and she’s just lying there half naked in a robe reading a book. “Would you like to make love would that be better?” She asks stroking the sheets. “I—I would love to fuck you.” “Oh! Well those are two different things, if you’d like then” “Come here. Come here!” *climbs onto bed.*

Comforts Feyd when he has nightmares. Caresses him and hands him a mug. Feyd: “What is this? It smells horrid.” “It’s elderflower tea my love, it’ll calm you.”🥰 *sips tea* “I hate it. It’s disgusting.” *keeps sipping*

Wears a lot of silk, velvet and lace. Has a gorgeous body and luscious skin.

Feyd is shocked when his darlings don’t want to harm her because she spoils them with special treats, delicious wine, jewelry, and dresses. They forget he enters the room because they are giggling over their gifts. Feyd: “What is this?” “She gave us heart and kidney pie.” “And silver rings!”

Bonus points: She ALWAYS wears red lipstick which is a contrast to the black and white of the Harkonnen planet. Imagine whenever she steps in to see Feyd and her smile is wide and her lips look like bright blood.

Just a thought enjoy!❤️

Omg I LOVE all of this, thank you for sharing it!!

I definitely think it would be a learning curve for Feyd but deep down he just desperately wants someone to love him😂😭

I can see him getting frustrated with himself like “what are these feelings, what has she done to me” and when he asks her what kind of witch she is, she just throws back her head and laughs and tells him, “that’s love, dear”

[bullet-prooflove]

Mine: Terry Silver x Reader (NSFW)

Tagging: @kmc1989 @thedeadsingforme @eddieslut69 @mia1653 @kimbergoldess

Companion piece to:

Roses - A bouquet of roses sparks an act of revenge.

Inspiration - Terry helps you find inspiration after you run into your ex.

You’re dressed in overalls and splattered with paint when Terry strides into your studio with that look in his eyes. It’s one that you recognise from the gallery that night, when JP had reached out and tucked a strand of hair back behind your features. It’s a dark possessive expression, one that fills you with heat. His mouth covers yours, his entire body trapping you between the sink console, pressing against you.  

The paint smears from your overalls onto his shirt but Terry doesn’t care because he needs you right now, oil paint and all. His hands tear the buttons of your overalls open, revealing that white sports bra underneath. His gaze fixates on the dark outline of your nipples and he bends his head to capture them, his tongue licking over the left as his thumb pinches the right. The noise you make at that sensation, almost brings him to his knees. There has never been anybody who’s been able to coax pleasure out of you the way that Terry does. It’s raw, it’s passionate and its consuming.

He yanks the rest of your overalls over your arms and down your hips leaving you clad in white cotton panties, a growing damp spot spreading across the fabric. He tugs them down as your fumble with his trousers, releasing his erection. He’s hard already, leaking. You moan his name as he enters you. He fills you entirely before he withdraws and starts all over again. His hand tangles in your hair, gripping it in his fist as he fucks you hard against the counter.

“You’re mine.” He mumbles against your jaw. “I need to hear you say it.”

You cry out instead, because he sits that sweet spot, the one that drives you absolutely crazy.

“Georgia.” He says, tugging your hair to get your attention. “Please…”

It’s the frantic sound of the word that gets you, the desperation behind it. You don’t know where this has come from but you would give his man your soul if it was what he needed.

“You know I’m yours.” You tell him as you draw him into a kiss. “You know I always will be.”

He loses it then, his hips snapping, faster, harder. You’ve forgotten how much this unhinged version of your husband excites you, what it’s like to be claimed by him completely. His hand reaches between the two of you, fingers circling your clit and you hit that high, climaxing all over his cock. He can’t think in that moment, he’s not even sure he breathes. All he can focus on is the sensation of you gripping him so fucking tightly he can’t help but follow you over the edge.

He spills his release deep, thrusting it into you because Terry, he’s in a territorial mood and you need to know exactly who you belong to. His forehead comes to rest on yours as he withdraws, his palms cradling your face as he tries to catch his breath.

 “You are everything to me.” He whispers, his lips brushing over yours. “It’s important to me that you know that. I couldn’t live without you, I couldn’t function…”

“I know.” You say, the edges of your mouth tipping up into a smile. “I’ve always known.”

It’s later that night, he tells you that he’s going out. You’re in the shower rinsing the paint from your hair after resuming your creations when he lets himself into the bathroom to tell you.

“Come join me instead.” You beckon and he looks at you regretfully as he picks up one of his hair elastics and ties his hair back into a ponytail. Whatever it is, you know he means business tonight.

“There’s something I need to take care of.” He tells you, kissing your pouted mouth. “I’ll be back soon, I promise.”

Love Terry S? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[bitchesuntitled]

Friday Night

Summary: First time Frankie tells you he loves you and finally meeting the boys.

Part of the Parents to Lovers series, set between Paint with Me and Between Us

Warnings/Tags: MDNI, GO ON GET! Cuteness, little splash of smut, oral M!receiving, anxious reader, cussing, I think that's it but if anyone sees something I should add that I forgot let me know!

A/N: Happy Frankie Friday!!! Thank you so very much @beefrobeefcal, my fellow Frankie obsessed friend for taking a look at this and continuously helping me with my writing. @endlessthxxghts for also taking a look at this and offering your expertise much appreciated bb! Last but not least, @jay-zzle GUURRRLLLLL!!! Moodboards(like this one), story ideas, screaming with me about Pedro, thank you for meeting my delulu at the same level. ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Masterlist||AO3 Link||Parents to Lovers

dividers provided by @saradika-graphics

“I’m so close,” Frankie hisses, gripping the couch cushion, knuckles turning white with the force. His cock twitches in your mouth, your hands feeling the tension in his thighs as you bob along his length, eyes looking up to watch him. His eyebrows scrunch together, chest heaving, his neck and face flushed with a crimson color.

He groans, watching your swollen lips wrapped around him as he comes into your mouth. 

“I love you.”

Your eyes widen at his words as you swallow every drop with a hum. Releasing his length with a soft pop, you crawl into his lap. You couldn't help but let your smile spread across your face. Leave it to you and your luck to have the man you are smitten with admit he loves you as you make him come with your mouth. 

Frankie's eyes remain heavy lidded as he watches you with a half-smile tugging at his lips.

"So," you giggle, walking your fingers up his chest with a cocked eyebrow. "You love me, huh?”

He grabs the back of your neck, smashing his mouth against yours in a desperate kiss.

“That’s not exactly how I wanted to tell you, but yeah,” Frankie says, neck and cheeks flushing with warmth even more.

“Hmm,” you laugh, “What a way to let a girl know.”

“It’s true though, ya know? I do love you. Definitely didn’t want it to come out that way, had thought of a better way to tell you but shit happens,” Frankie says with a shrug.

“I love you too.”

“Yeah?” he asks with a grin, “So, does that mean you’d want to meet the guys finally?”

The men are more so brothers to him than friends. He’s brought up introducing you to them before, but it just seemed too soon. It’s been five months, and things seem to be going in a more serious direction. You’ve tried to put it off, though now it seems like it might be the right time.

—

Frankie: Sitter just got here. Headed your way 😘

It’s Friday night, you’re finally going to meet Frankie’s friends, the men who mean just as much to him as Missy. Dressed in your favorite jeans, your lucky AC/DC shirt, and your sneakers, you’re pacing outside on the sidewalk waiting for Frankie to arrive.

“You’ve got this,” you mutter to yourself. If anyone were to see you they’d probably think you were nuts but you didn’t care; your nerves were getting the better of you, the voice inside your head making all sorts of suggestions like, why you picked that outfit or that you’re underdressed. “Stop that, you’re meeting them at a bar for fuck sakes,” you hiss at yourself.

You hear Frankie’s truck approaching and stop your pacing. It’s darker out but you can still see him through the windshield, that standard oil ball cap on, and the wide grin on his face when he sees you. He stops beside the sidewalk, leaning over the center console to push the passenger side door open for you.

“Didn’t think you’d be waiting outside for me,” he laughs, as you get in the cab of his truck.

“Nervous,” you shrug, giving him a quick kiss before buckling in.

“Nervous?” Frankie asks, perplexed, “About what?”

“Just nervous they aren’t going to like me,” you say quietly, picking at the skin around your thumbnail.

“Baby,” Frankie says, grabbing your hand, “You make me happy and they know that. That’s all they care about. No need to worry about anything.”

You let out a breath, squeezing his hand. You’re already feeling more calm now that you’re with Frankie. 

—

It was a short drive to the bar they frequent the most. Frankie’s told you many stories about this bar and their shenanigans there. As you enter the bar you can feel some of the tension leaving your body. It’s a nice little place, not very well-lit but it gives off a comforting vibe. There’s a jukebox in the corner, a rough-looking gentleman behind the bar, and a table where you see three men beginning to stand, waving at you and Frankie.

“Fish!” A tall blonde shouts, “You finally brought your girl!”

“I did!” Frankie says, his hand at your lower back guiding you over to his friends, “Finally talked her into meeting you assholes.”

Frankie began laughing and giving hugs to his friends before you all sat at the table.

“Alright babe, this is Will, Santi, and Benny,” Frankie says pointing to each man, who in turn raises their hand.

“So he had to convince you to meet us?” Will asked, raising his eyebrow.

“It wasn’t really like that,” you laugh, “I was just nervous is all.”

“We don’t bite,” Santi said with a smile, “Well not all of us,” he added, glancing at Benny.

“It was one fucking time. Will you let it go?” Benny grumbled, crossing his arms, “I told you if you didn’t let me go I was going to do it.”

“I’m gonna get a beer,” Frankie said, nudging your arm, “Want anything?”

“Margarita, please.”

“Sure thing,” he said, kissing your temple before leaving the table.

“So,” Will started, leaning closer to the table, “You get along with Missy?”

“Fuckin’ hell,” Santi murmured, “Ironhead, leave her alone. Remember meeting Nora at Missy’s birthday party last month?”

“Nora?” Benny asked, whipping his head towards Santi, “The one that hit me in the nuts with the water balloon?”

“She did what?!” You asked, “I’m so sorry!”

“Guys, this is Nora’s mom,” Santi explained, gesturing towards you.

“Oh fuck! I forgot you’re a MILF!” Benny exclaimed, earning him a smack from Will to the back of the head.

“Here you go, babe,” Frankie said, setting your margarita down in front of you. Immediately grabbing it to take a drink, hoping it soothes your nerves after that small interrogation from Will.

—

The conversation and drinks flow as you hear more stories about Frankie, Santi, Benny, and Will. From their time in the army and their many adventures in life after. You learn that the men have been there a lot for Frankie, his journey as a single dad, and the struggles he’s dealt with. It’s apparent that Missy is a big part of their lives just as she is in Frankie’s. They each spoke fondly of her and how much they adore her.

“I’ll be back,” Frankie grunts, standing up with a stretch, “Bout to piss myself.”

“Please don’t,” Santi laughs, “I don’t have a spare pair of pants this time.”

You give Santi a curious look as Frankie glares at him shaking his head, making his way to the bathroom.

“Story for another time, hermosa,” Santi says with a wicked grin. 

“What’s the deal with you and Frankie?” Will blurts out, once Frankie is out of earshot.

“Yeah,” Benny agrees, “What’s the deal?”

“Not quite sure what you mean,” you start, “But if you’re asking what we are, he’s my boyfriend and I’m his girlfriend?”

“No, we get that,” Will replies with a sigh, “What I mean is what are your intentions with him? Where do you see this going?”

“Jesus christ, Will,” Santi scolds, “You need to leave her alone with the intense questions!”

“I’m just a concerned friend,” Will snaps, then turns towards you, “Do you see this lasting long term or is this just a fling?”

“Well,” you start, “It’s not just a fling by any means. I love Frankie. I know you are looking out for him and are protective, I can respect that. No need to worry though, the last thing I would want is Frankie’s heart to be broken or mine.”

“Do you get along with Missy?” Benny pipes in, “You never really answered that question earlier.”

“Missy is such a sweetheart. I have her over at my house all the time to play with Nora and she loves it when she gets to stay the night,” you smile thinking about the last slumber party the girls had, baking cookies together making a mess of your kitchen, “She’s a cool kid but we haven’t told the girls yet. We want to wait until we’re more sure of where things are going if you’re concerned about that.”

Will and Benny nod, listening to what you have to say. Santi gives you a warm smile.

“Told you guys,” Santi hums, taking a swig from his beer, “Why would you question anything when Frankie’s been so positive when he talks about her?”

“Rose-tinted glasses my friend, rose-tinted glasses,” Will replies, “We’ve all been there.”

“Hey guys, I’m back,” Frankie says, taking his place beside you, “Sorry, sitter called.”

“Missy okay?” you ask, concern etching your face.

“Yeah, yeah,” Frankie smiles, brushing his hand along your shoulder, “Just wanted to tell me good night.”

“She’s so sweet,” Will smiles fondly.

“She can be,” Frankie laughs, “So did I miss anything while I was gone?”

“Not much,” Will replies, nodding his head towards you with a smile, “Finally got yourself a good one Fish.”

Frankie smiles at you, tips of his ears going a slight pink, and he nods, “Yeah. Yeah, I did.”

[impala-dreamer]

Pondering Fate While Ignoring The Obvious

A Ten Inch Hero Story

~Priestly has got it so bad for Tish that he can barely see past the end of her... well, her back end, anyway. He's love sick and forever rejected, constantly stuck inside his own head. When a new girl in town starts messing with him, he quickly loses his cool...~

Boaz Priestly x F!Reader

2,511 Words

Warnings: Nuttin' but fluff and banter. ;)

A/N: This is another square for my @jacklesversebingo card. The prompt is "Backhanded Compliment/Convenience Store/Sugar Addict"

Now listen- I've never written for this movie before, but I had so much fun doing it. If you've seen the movie, I think you'll love this. If you haven't seen it, you may not totally get it, but you'll still love it because it's cute and fluffy and I said so. Give it a chance ;)

Another day, another spicy Italian with no oil and no vinegar. How you could eat a hero dry was a question he could never quite grasp the answer to, but in the end, did another weird order really matter? He’d put a condom on the bun if they asked for it. Maybe not a used one, but then again, Tish was looking extra spicy herself today.

Tish. Goddamnit. There she goes flirting with every male in existence except him. There she is leaning over the counter in that not-so-sneaky way that pushes her tits up and out, giving everyone and their mother a look into the valley of the Promised Land. 

For fuck’s sake, if she’d only do that for him. 

Then again, nothin’ he hadn’t seen before. 

Fingers snapped in front of his face and Priestly blinked himself back into reality. 

“Can I help you?” he asked, still half dazed and half hard after staring so intently at his coworker. 

Piper sighed. “Yeah. You gotta make a run down the street.” 

He sighed harder. “You know, you ladies are capable of patronizing the convenience store now and then. It’s not really hard. You just pick out what you need and exchange it for cash.” 

The tiny blonde pouted and batted her lashes. “Please? My feet hurt from standing all day.” 

He scoffed. “And mine don't?” 

“I’m not used to it. I’m delicate.” 

Priestly scratched at the bright green spikes that sat atop his head for the day, masquerading as a hairstyle. He frowned but relented. “Fine. Gimme the list.” 

He saw her from the street. He wasn’t purposely peeping through the window like a stalker, but he felt like it all the same. It wasn’t his fault, not really. Things mostly stayed the same around town, so when something was different, when someone new showed up, it tended to stick out a bit. 

The new girl at the register was cute, not particularly daring in her style or makeup palette, but she was attractive. Probably the thing Priestly noticed first was the lollipop stick hanging from her painted lips. 

His entrance was announced by the jangling of bells and she looked up as he came in. She smiled around the pop and twirled the white paper stick between her fingers. 

“Welcome.” 

He looked back at her over his shoulder and nodded. “Hey.” 

Slowly, she pulled the treat from her mouth and licked the very tip. Her tongue was as red as the pop and Priestley was sure that his cheeks were turning the same shade. He cleared his throat quickly and turned back, going about his business. 

The store was otherwise empty except for Mr. Jacobson, the old man who never seemed to go anywhere but was always wherever you went. He was currently lingering at the end of the aisle, amazed at the sheer amount of chip flavors the new millennium had to offer. 

“Back in my day we had regular and salt & vinegar, and we were grateful!”

Priestly laughed under his breath and looked over the rack at the register. She was laughing softly as well, and when their eyes met, she didn’t shy away. 

He did; quickly tearing his gaze from the cherry pop and focusing on the aluminum foil instead. There was no use flirting with her anyway- she’d never go for him. She looked too normal, too pretty to fall for his shenanigans. Best not to even think about it. 

Arms fully stocked, he headed her way, keeping his eyes on the black and gray tiled floor and praying she wouldn’t make his heart race any faster. 

She sucked hard on the Blow Pop and then took a bite, making him jump. Sugar crackled between her teeth and she winked.

“I hope you overcharge them,” she said dryly, staring him down. 

Confusion took the place of shyness and Priestly’s face scrunched up. “What?” he snapped, jerking away from the counter. 

The girl rolled her eyes and went about ringing up his order without another word. 

Cash exchanged, Priestly thanked her and walked out, still wondering what the hell she was talking about. 

Monday. 

Priestly stared out the front window, wondering if the day was going to go his way or not. He knew he shouldn’t bother pondering the Fates, because they always seemed against him, but he liked to think he had some hope tucked away somewhere beneath the Manic Panic hair dye and all the metal sticking out of his head. If there was, he couldn’t find any today. 

Tish was late, as usual, probably rolling out of some strange guy’s arms and fishing for her bra underneath the bed. 

Someday… someday, that’d be his bed she was searching under. Someday, those would be his arms she rolled out of. He just had to keep hoping.

Or not. He really didn’t care. 

The sun was too bright, the grill was too hot. He hated everything. 

Except the sound of bubblegum popping behind him. He didn’t seem to hate that. 

With spatula in hand, he turned and startled just enough to make the bubblegum appear between coyly smiling pink lips. 

“Hey.” 

Priestley squinted. “You’re that chick from the store.” 

Annoyance crept onto her face. “And you’re that dude with too much eyeliner.” 

He laughed before realizing she was insulting him and ended up jolting up on his toes awkwardly, half a smile curled on his lip. 

He cleared his throat. “Priestly.”

She squinted. “Like Elvis?” 

He shrugged. “And you are?” 

“Hungry.” 

Slapping a five on the counter, she picked up her hero and spun away, heading toward the door. She turned to push it open with her backside and popped her gum again. 

Her eyes were glued to him and Priestly felt his stomach flip. He met her gaze and she smiled. 

“I always do.” 

He wanted to say something, to ask her what the hell she was talking about, but she was gone before the words reached his tongue. 

“Always do what?” 

Jen turned her head his way, but her eyes were still locked on the computer screen. “What’s up?” 

He sighed. “Nothing. Just a weird girl from…nothing.”

It was nothing. She was just the weird girl from down the street. And anyway, he was supposed to be hating everything today, not shifting his ponderance to the mystery of the gum chewing, pop crunching girl from the convenience store. 

“Nothing.”  

Blue hair; don’t care. 

Priestly cracked an egg on the grill and watched the edges sizzle. He wasn’t great at a lot of things, but cooking eggs was something he did exceptionally well. The butter bubbled around the perimeter, curling the whites just slightly, and he pushed the tip of his spatula against it. 

Not ready yet. 

The girls were, yet again, chatting about men, and he kept one ear on the sizzle and the other in their conversation. 

“I just don’t understand how hard it is to find. It’s right there.” Tish laughed and pushed a delicate hand back through her hair. “It’s a clit, not the Holy Grail.” 

Priestly raised a brow. “Some would call it that though,” he interjected. 

She rolled her eyes. “You would.”

Offended, he sucked in a quick breath. “Ya know something-” 

She turned, one hand on her hip, waiting. “Yeah?”  

His lips pursed and dejected, he turned back to the grill. “Forget it.” 

“Thought so,” she laughed. 

God, she was such a bitch sometimes. OK, most times, but still.

Tish went back to leaning on the counter and he took the opportunity to peek at her ass. 

Behind him, a throat was cleared. 

Priestly sighed, knowing what was waiting for him when he turned. Or, rather, who. 

“You again.” He batted his lashes. 

She smacked her lips. “Me again.” From her pocket, she withdrew a pink Starburst and fiddled with the wrapper. 

He eyed the candy and followed it to her mouth. Her lips were darker today and it reminded him of the cherry pop. “You eat too much sugar, you know that?”

She smiled gently. “And you dye your hair too much. That isn’t good for you. All those chemicals are gonna fry your brain.” 

“Joke’s on you, it’s already fried- shit!” Fried egg. Burnt to a crisp. “Damnit.” 

Sugar Girl swallowed a laugh and the Starburst. 

He turned around, annoyed at himself and her laughter. “Are you- do you want something?” 

“Yup.” She nodded and took her order from Piper, who was holding a small, paper-wrapped hero. “Thanks.” 

Green eyes narrowed on her smile. She was weird. Way too weird. And kinda rude. 

“You ever gonna tell me your name?” he asked, calling out as she pushed open the door. 

“Sure,” she replied, “Soon as I get my free sample.” 

“Huh?” 

Confusion always seemed to linger when she left, that and the smell of strawberries. Or cherries, or whatever she’d been sucking on. 

Sucking on…

His eyes flickered over to Tish and he wondered if she was as good at sucking things as she claimed.

It was raining and he was cranky. 

He’d missed his alarm, the car wouldn’t start, and a passing bus nearly drenched him head to toe. 

It wasn’t supposed to rain at the beach. It was practically against the law. Nature’s law, anyway. 

And to top it all off, Tish was bragging about the amazing night she’d had with a handsome stranger visiting from New York. 

“He’s just in town for a few days, so it’s nothing serious,” she explained to a wide-eyed Piper who was drinking down every word. “But man, I wouldn’t be mad if it was. He’s… tall and handsome and-” 

Priestly cleared his throat. “Ya know I’m pretty tall.” 

She clicked her tongue. “And?” 

His heart ached at her callousness. “And… just thought I’d remind you.”

Maybe she didn’t know what she was doing to him, but he thought his advances were fairly obvious. Maybe she was just a bitch.

Jen derailed his thought train with a shopping list she’d printed out. 

He shook his head. “No.” 

“Please?”

The shop on the corner was the last place he wanted to go. Nameless Sugar Girl was the last person he wanted to see. “Why do I always have to go?” He pouted and gestured to the window. “It’s pouring rain out there.” 

Jen looked up with puppy-dog eyes. “Which is why I’m asking you to please go.” 

A heavy sigh was his only reply. Priestly grabbed the paper from her hand, crumpling it beyond repair, and set out into the downpour. 

He was dripping by the time he made it down the street. He sneered at the water on his face, rolled his eyes at the welcome mat, swatted viciously at the bells as they rang above his head. 

“Rough morning?” she asked, watching his huffy entrance. 

He scowled. “You could say that.” 

A peppermint rolled on her tongue and the red and white stripes caught his eye. “Well, lemme know if you need any assistance.” 

Priestly ran a hand through his teal-tinted hair and shook out a puddle’s worth of rain. “Yeah. Thanks.” 

It took him a while to collect the goods, having trouble finding the right paper towels that would fit into the holder in the bathrooms. He’d never had any issues in the store before; seemed like someone had rearranged. 

Someone. 

He looked across the rows of sundries and wondered what her deal was. Hell, he still didn’t even know her name. Not that he wanted to, of course. 

Of course. 

Finally, and with much annoyance, he arrived at the register. 

She laughed softly as he unloaded his arms. 

He shook his head. “What?” 

“I… I shouldn’t even touch this one.” 

He had no clue what she was talking about, he never did, and he was at the end of his rope. 

His patience snapped. “What?”

She sat back, clearly hurt by his tone. “Your shirt.” 

She pointed at his chest and he looked down, reading the big black letters upside down. 

‘Save a tree, eat a beaver’

His shoulders fell. “Oh. Yeah. Whatever.” 

“Yeah,” she echoed, the sting heavy in her voice. “Whatever.” 

He couldn’t take it anymore. Dropping a can of coffee onto the counter, he slapped his palms down on either side of it and leaned in. 

“Ya know, everytime I see you, you’ve got something snarky to say.”

Her eyes went wide. “Snarky?” She frowned. “I thought I was flirting.” 

The fight drained out of him along with the blood in his cheeks. Confused once more. “Uh… what?” 

Pushing herself up off the stool, she mirrored his pose, hands falling dangerously close to his. “Flirting,” she said again. “It’s an ancient ritual in which a sexually interested party attempts to lure their prey into bed with witty and charming wordplay.”

He balked. “I know what flirting is!” 

She glared. “Then why haven’t you picked up on the fact that I’ve been trying to pick you up for weeks now?”

“I uh…” His elbows buckled and he stood up fully. “You have?” No way. She wasn’t…

Memories of the past month flooded his mind. Each time he’d seen her she was smiling at him, not being snarky. She was teasing him, answering the ridiculous sayings on his shirt. 

‘I sell crack for the CIA.’ … “I hope you overcharge them”

‘Surf naked.’ … “I always do.” 

‘Orgasm Donor - Ask for your free sample’ … “As soon as I get my free sample.”

It had been smacking him in the damned face and he hadn’t seen it. She had been playing with him the whole time, not trying to annoy him. She wanted him to notice her, but he was too busy dreaming of Tish, wondering when she’d notice him. 

He sucked in a stunned breath. “You have. Wow.”

A tiny smile returned to her cherry lips. “Come on, I know you’re not as dumb as your fashion sense implies.”

Priestly felt a dip in his gut, something fluttering around inside. He grinned. “Oh, I’m way dumber.” 

Reaching across the counter, she grabbed hold of his shirt and pulled him close. “Good.”

Her lips were soft, the kiss as sweet as the candy she was always eating. He breathed her in as her tongue swept over his.  He was stunned, confused but in a good way. Maybe he needed to push Tish aside and pay more attention to the world around him. Maybe this was a good thing. A really good thing. His eyebrows raised in surprise, his blood pressure raised even higher.

She pulled away slowly, her lips lingering on his. 

“You get it now?” 

She waited, blinking at him with the most beautiful eyes he’d ever seen. He should have looked sooner, closer; should have given her a chance.  

“Yeah,” he whispered in a laugh. “I think I do.” 

Another kiss, a press of her hand at the nape of his neck. 

“You ever gonna tell me your name?” 

She smiled. “Y/N.”

He reached for her cheek; fingers landing lightly on her soft skin. 

“Nice to meet you, Y/N.” 

2023 Forever Tags (Always Open! Send an Ask!)

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[maxwapan]

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁✰ With Leon and hybrid! reader…

As much as I love a good Leon and hybrid! reader fic… there needs to be more variety! Puppies are cute and so are bunnies and kitties, but what about birds? Or deer? Fish?

Warnings?: None! Purely SFW, fluffy content.

Note:(These are all my hc’s and ideas on those specific hybrid mixes, sorta just random lol).

With Bird Hybrid! Reader…

Like, imagine Leon with a bird hybrid. He’d be absolutely mesmerized with your pretty wings. They could be a pretty brown, like a finches. Or a colorful rainbow, like a Scarlet Macaw’s.

Of course, there would be feathers everywhere. On the bed, the couch, the floor… but Leon doesn’t mind. Not one bit. In fact, he’d collect them all, keep them safe in a jar or in a drawer. All those feathers are precious to him, because they were once a part of you.

Though the cleanup certainly does take a while. And it mayyy occasionally have him huffing to himself.

you’d wake him up with your pretty chirps, the sound reaching his ears like a sweet bell. The soft, excited flapping of your wings send a light breeze, eliciting goosebumps to emerge on his skin. Such a great thing to wake up to, really. Even if he’s a little grumpy at times.

Even if it comes with the occasional grumbled: “Jeez, if I wanted a morning rooster i’d get one…”

Did I mention he loves your wings? He loves your wings. And you do too. You take great care of them. The hybrid center provides preening help; due to a lack of a beak, you have to use specialized items from the center. Such as specific oils and moisturizers, (and Leon helps on occasion too when he can! Just a simple pinch and twist and a pin feather is out whenever you go through a molt).

Having to research birds in general before retrieving you from the center, Leon had already picked up on a lot of your behavior. Your feathers fluff up on a particularly cold day? He’s immediately by your side trying to warm you up. Your pupils dilate upon seeing something interesting? He points it out and brings you closer.

Though of course, those behaviors could come from negative causes as well. Such as seeing something distressing or hearing something loud. Leon soothes you as best as he can, cooing reassurances and comforting words.

“Hey, birdie. Look at me. S’okay, yeah? Just focus on me. I got you.”

With Deer Hybrid! Reader…

I’d like to imagine that instead of retrieving you from the center, he’d find you in a forest. It’s a few days into winter and theres a light fluff of snow coating everything: the trees, the grass, and you.

He’s on his way back home from a mission, but due to how far he is he decides to stay at a cabin for the night. The sight is pretty, and despite the cold, it’s cozy.

Though, just as he’s bringing his things in, something catches his eye. It’s you, standing a few feet away, curiously mesmerized by the pretty light emitting from the cabin’s interior.

Your antlers (if masc) stand tall and proud, covered in a light layer of snow.

(If fem) Your pretty ears flicker lightly, the slow falling snow landing on them and painting them white.

Leon’s completely entranced. From your doe eyes to the tail attached to you, a light brown with a pearly white underneath. He’s heard of hybrids before, but only the typical ones. You, you’re different.

And he has to have you. So he spends several days at that cabin, more than he’d admit. Forgetting about his original goal to head home, he makes a new one.

Throughout those days, he leaves food. Attempting to coax you closer, just enough to see the pretty fur on your ears and tail. You’re so skittish, so easily spooked away. And at times it gets frustrating, but he pushes through.

Because he needs you. and he will get you. Besides, he kinda has that hunter mentality at times, doesn’t he?

(I can’t decide on if a deer hybrid would have a satyr-like appearance, since with just the ears and tail it gets boring. So, for the time being i’m going with that!)

With Fish Hybrid! Reader…

With hybrid centers, I like to think that there’s different ones that cater to whatever specific type of hybrids they have under their care.

So for aquatic hybrids, they’d have a more aquarium built center.

And when you piqué Leon’s interest, he immediately looks into proper care for aquatics online.

Oh boy, that’s a lot of money.

Not a big deal for an agent like him. So, he buys the best of the best. Though, that involves some renovations to his place of stay. After all, you need a huge tank, and lots of water.

not to mention filters and tank decorations… it’s a whole process, alright?

However, once you’re moved in— Leon finds himself rather frustrated. He’s completely hypnotized by the way you move underwater, the ethereal blue glow making the scales of your tail gain an iridescent glow. But, he can’t really touch you, now can he?

He needs air to breath, and you can’t stay out of water.

But that doesn’t stop him. Because even if his heart flutters just by seeing you, he needs more. Pressing his palm against the glass of your huge tank isn’t enough. Besides, he can swim, right?

Well, not frequently. But with you in his life, swimming has become a part of it too. Constantly, he finds himself in your tank until his skin starts to prune. Only then will he get out.

In the water, he doesn’t hesitate on touching you. His fingertips glide against your scales, feeling the smooth center of the hard shells all the way to the sharp edges. It never fails to send pleasant shivers down his spine.

“Pretty,” he’d comment in a soft murmur, eyes slowly tracing over the outline of every cycloid scale.

What type of fish are you? A multicolored Koi? A sunny goldfish? Or maybe a neon Beta? It doesn’t matter, whatever you are; Leon is absolutely smitten.

The water may be cold, but somehow, you manage to warm him up every time. He’s careful not to damage your delicate fins whenever he embraces you with his arms. He wishes he could hold you forever, wishes the elements weren’t so cruel in this case.

But for now, he’s content with what he has. For you, it’s all worth it.

(Essentially, reader’s appearance is that of a mermaid’s. But, I didn’t wanna consider it mermaid exactly cause, there’s like so much pretty fish with different forms and shapes. That’s more interesting to me than a typical mermaid, iykwim LOL).

I had to research so much y’all omg.

ANYWAYS, these were my little random ass ideas on those specific hybrid types. Most of it was bad building BUT I tried my best so. I hope you liked reading!

[kelcemenow]

Drive Me Crazy - Chapter 8.

Pairing Travis Kelce x Reader

Words 1391

Warnings Some angsty vibes here, but it's going to get better, I swear!

Huge thank you to the Anon who sent this in! They had such amazing words to say about my writing which I massively appreciate and then to top it off, had an incredible request for me! I only have experience with mechanics in the UK, so I’ve tried my best with this one! “I just recently got interested in Travis K. X reader stories and wanted to let you know, I read all of yours as quickly as I could. They are so well done and I couldn’t help but laugh/giggle and feel through each word you typed out. You’re doing amazing and I’m so glad to have stumbled onto your page. If you have any space for a request, I’d be curious about what Trav would think about having a military (like fighter pilot) or engineer or mechanic girlfriend. I see a lot of stories with him paired with models/singers/social media individuals (which are phenomenal!) but just wondering how he would be with a more tomboy like girlfriend!”

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

"Are you sure you're okay?"

You sighed, rolling your eyes, "Travis, I'm fine. I'm just tired."

He stared at you as thoroughly as he could through his phone screen. Faint wrinkles between his eyes deepened as his eyes narrowed. He hummed quietly before laying further back on his bed, his elbows elevating his torso, "Your Dad seemed pretty happy tonight."

You forced a smile, your chest still panging with hurt, "Yeah, thank you for doing all of this, he had a blast."

"And you?"

You paused, a little longer than you should've, "Yeah, it was great."

Luckily, Travis had rolled across the bed to grab the charger for his phone and didn't pick up on your disheartened expression, "I'm still pissed you wouldn't let the team doctor check you over."

"Travis, I really appreciate that you're concerned for me, I am. But honestly, it wasn't necessary."

He sucked his teeth and shook his head, "It's crazy though, there's gotta be a reason you passed out."

You avoided his gaze, adjusting the folds of your bedsheet.

"Anyway baby, I'm tired. I think I'm going to hit the hay, okay?"

Nodding your head gently, you could feel your body yearning to yawn, "Yeah, me too."

"But I'll call you in the morning?"

"Sure."

You watched as his eyes creased into a sweet smile, "G'night, babygirl."

Your stomach fluttered as his left eye quickly closed into a charming wink. It seemed travis had a talent for making you melt, no matter the situation.

"Goodnight, Travis."

The phone display returned to your home screen, a black and white photo of you and your Dad when you were younger. You must have been around 9 or 10 years old and were wearing one of his work t-shirts, splotches of grease and oil covering most of the fabric. He was leaning over the hood of his car and you were stood on a stool in front of him, holding a large tool in your tiny hand. You recognised his battered baseball cap adorning his head as one of your own now, something he gave you when you took on part of his business. 'A good luck charm', he said. Your chest swelled with love before melancholy set in. The opinions of other people had never bothered you in the past, especially the opinions of complete strangers. You had always been confident in yourself and you valued hard work and kindness over appearances. But now here you were, overthinking and distracted by the online comments of people you didn't know.

You laid back on your bed and stared up at the ceiling, shadows forming swirled patterns across the white paint. Taking a few deep breaths, you glanced across to the digital clock on your nightstand before feeling your eyelids droop lower and lower with each breath.

______________________________________________________________

Music blasted from the small radio you had perched on top of the exposed engine. Your head was buried under the hood, fingers tinkering at greased bolts and pipes as the sounds of the garage were overpowered by Whitney Houston.

"Y/N!" A deep voice yelled out from behind you.

Your body jerked as the noise disturbed your focus. Glancing over your shoulder, you noticed Jordan standing 20 yards or so away from you, his eyes avoiding yours.

"Yes?" You said impatiently, without changing your stance, a clear sign that you weren't interested in a lengthy conversation with him.

"I don't know if you're busy or..."

"Yeah, I am."

"Right." Jordan turned away for a second before spinning around and taking a few steps closer to you, "You know, it's just that it's obvious that other people think the same as I do."

You stood up straight, your shoulders tightening, "Excuse me?"

"I just don't think that you and Travis are a good match for each other." His feet were planted on the floor but his knees were twitching, his hands nervously fidgeting in his washed out denim jeans, "And I know I shouldn't have behaved the way I did the other night, but I was just in shock to see him there, you know? He's a pretty big deal, and you...you're just a-"

"Is this supposed to be an apology?"

Jordan sighed, his hands moving up to his temples, "I just think you would be better suited with someone else."

You laid down the spanner that you had been firmly gripping, the clang ringing out through the garage and capturing everyone's attention, "Someone else? Someone else like you, you mean?"

"Y/N, that's not what I'm saying-"

"What are you saying, then?

Jordan's gaze drifted to the floor, "I...I don't really know."

You took a step towards him, "Exactly. You don't know what you're saying. So, let me give you a clue. Who I date is none of your business, Jordan. It is actually none of yours, or anyone else's business."

You could see heads turning in your peripheral, but all that you could feel was the heat quickly rising in your chest and adrenaline speeding through your veins. Jordan stood with his mouth open, as if he was about to speak but even if he wanted to, you were reluctant to give him the chance.

"So, just...stay out of it, okay?" You waved your hand before rushing over to the bathroom, the wooden door slamming shut behind you.

Your shaking hands reached for the white basin, fingers gripping the smooth, cool, porcelain as you looked up into the mirror. You gritted your teeth as you attempted to hold your composure for a few seconds before you crumbled, tears travelling down your cheeks quickly. The clangs of the garage were muffled in the distance behind your occasional sobs, but you ran the tap just in case anyone could hear you.

Your reflection stared back at you, the skin under your eyes shiny from tears. As your breathing slowed and you took back control of your emotions, you grabbed your hair behind your head and tied it back with a small scrunchie that was snug on your wrist. Wiping your face, you inhaled deeply before a gentle knock on the bathroom door made you jump slightly.

"Uhh, there's someone in here." Your emotionally charged voice gurgled.

"It's Dad."

You looked around the small restroom, for nothing in particular, before flushing the toilet, "I'll just...I'll just be a minute." You called out, grabbing a hand towel and desperately dabbing your face.

There was a short moment of silence on the other side of the door as your Dad waited for the sound of rushing water to cease.

"He's gotten under your skin, hasn't he?"

"Jordan? I couldn't care less about what Jordan thinks." You tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and brushed down your overalls, "I don't-"

"I meant Travis."

You turned towards the door, your eyebrows furrowed.

"Forgive me for saying this, and I know I don't really know much about your dating life-" He let out a chuckle, "-but I've seen a change in you. A good change."

You reached for the door handle, "Really?"

"You seem happier." You could hear a smile in your Dad's voice, "Today aside, of course."

As you gently turned the handle and opened the door, his face came into view, his cheek pressed to the door frame, desperate to comfort you. You exhaled a smile as his eyes scanned your face, "I am happy."

"So, what's this?" He gestured to your eyes.

You shook your head, "It's stupid, really. I saw some comments on a picture of me and Travis online and then Jordan just-"

"And since when did you care what people thought?"

You blinked, "I don't."

Your Dad pushed the door open further and placed his hands on both of your shoulders, "So, what's the problem?"

You giggled, "I don't know."

"I think I know." He winked with a grin.

You lowered your brows again, your lips tightening into a coy smile.

"You like the guy!" He shook you gently, "And I don't blame you. But I have to be honest here, he's the lucky one to have you, sport."

You looked down at your feet, your cheeks flushing with red.

"So, fuck what everybody else thinks!"

"Daddy!" Your head snapped up, your eyes wide at your Dad's uncharacteristic cursing, which was something exclusively reserved for watching football games.

"Go get him."

______________________________________________________________

I think I've got my groove back!

This series will be finishing soonish and then I'll get onto the one-shot requests list that I have sitting in my notes app...which is quite a few!

Anyway, I hope you like this next chapter, it's not too dramatic but it's setting up the finale! If you want to be added to my Taglist, just let me know!

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[b0nten]

HEY, MONA LISA, COME HOME

[SYNOPSIS] ˚⁀➷｡ you know you can’t roam without caesar. hanma reacting to you drawing him.

[NOTES] ˚⁀➷｡ this is so cute. not a kanye fan but i couldn’t help quoting flashing lights. hope this is to your liking anon <3

“whaddup, baby?” hanma waltzes into the living room, casually, as always. he greets you with a smile, but it dissipates once you don’t answer. he stands there eyeing you, and he can’t help but wonder what it is that you’re so concentrated on.

your eyes scan the weasel, and you let a big sigh out. your hands find their way to your temples and start massaging small circles. you close your eyes and sigh again. when the ritual is complete, you get up to go into the kitchen, but when your view expands, you’re scared of how and when hanma got into your apartment in the first place.

“what the fuck!” you scream and take a step back, almost falling, “shuji! when did you get here?!” you question and he just bursts out laughing.

“i’ve been here for… like ten minutes?” he says sarcastically, mimicking looking at a watch, but it’s just his bare wrist.

“oh.. i’m so sorry i didn’t see you..” you apologize and get closer to him, falling into his embrace.

“what’s bothering you, shortcake?” he asks, eyes softening on you figure.

“oh, nothing, that damn weasel just isn’t holding the paint correctly. thought i should spare some money, got this piece of crap instead of my regular ones. now i gotta suffer.” you half-laugh, and so does he.

“well, i’m assuming you’d like to have a break, right?” he says, lifting the white nylon bag he’s been holding all this time in his hand. “guess what i got.”

“ice cream is just what i needed, thank you, shuji.” you kiss him to on the cheek and snatch away the bag, running into the kitchen.

“hey! leave some for me!” he shouts from behind, following you.

you eat your ice cream and chat a bit. it’s refreshing, and when you finally sit back down to confront the painting, you actually feel optimistic. picking up a brush and an enormous tube of white paint, you bring the canvas back to square one. ready to start anew.

“i’m just gonna sit here and read… this, that okay with you?” hanma asks and randomly picks up a book.

“are you sure you want to read ulysses? that shit’s tough.” you smile while asking. he flips the book around in his hand and shrugs.

“i’ll manage, i’m a big boy.”

you nod and continue brainstorming for ideas. you scan the room, close your eyes, sing a song in your head, but seemingly nothing seems to spark up any ideas. your glance drifts off to hanma, peacefully reading the book you had warned him about.

then, something in your head lights up and you grab the paints and start it.

half an hour, an hour, two, it had been just three when the valhalla leader decided he had enough of that bullshit. the words were too many and reading all pf that book was tiresome. he got up and started stretching. once he turned to you, he couldn’t not notice how deeply invested you were in that painting.

slowly creeping behind you as not to bother or disturb your work, he wondered what it could be that your were painting so passionately. once he saw it, his heart dropped, albeit in a good way.

there he was, sitting on your emerald sofa, manspreading, with the book in his hand. everything was down to a t, the kitchen behind you, the lights, even the colors of his clothes, not to mention his hair or facial expressions. you were working on what he thought was shading when he finally spoke up.

“you’d like to design a tattoo for me?”

you jump up, paintbrush flying into his face.

“shuji, babe, i’m so sorry!” you quickly snatch a wet wipe and clean his face, while continuing to apologize.

after maybe the tenth apology he takes your hand in his, chastely kissing it.

“i’m sorry for scaring you, baby.” he says, “but the offer’s serious. you’re crazy good, i look even hotter made out of oil paint.”

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

my favorite art piece

pairing: knight!steve harrington x fem!princess reader

wc: 777

warnings: none. tis' a clean story.

summary: knight and princess talk about the visiting duke over oil painting.

A/N: another story to my knight!steve series. alone together is the first one but you could read either one standalone.

masterlist

“was hoping i’d find you here. was beginning to worry you climbed the palace walls again and i’d have my head chopped off.” a male voice entered your quiet art room.

barely a glance over your shoulder you knew who was stepping behind you. the gentle clang of his armor and weapon reverberated off the high ceilings.

“i’d never let them do such a thing. can’t waste a pretty face away.” the smirk evident in your words.

the footsteps and clanking stopped just over your right shoulder, “they don’t write sonnets about this face for nothing, princess.”

an unprincessly snort left your nose, “oh do they? you must recite some to me one day. would adore to hear.”

steven hummed, “what is your focus on today, princess? you mostly paint when stressed.”

focused brush strokes paused, ignoring the way your heart beat just a bit faster that he knew something so small about your ticks. “not always. it’s just when… inspiration hits me. and perhaps it may be when i can’t control something.” resuming practiced strokes, a band of fury hidden beneath a poised grip.

“might i inquire what has you… vexed?” steven took two steps over, now in your peripheral.

shades of periwinkle and indigo mixed, “if you must. but mind your words.” speaking slowly, fully concentrating on your work.

“would this have anything to do with a certain duke? one who happens to be visiting for the week?” you ignored the gentle venom of the word duke.

“lord hargrove’s arrival has been known for many days. though his intentions of travel have not been stated until the day of his arrival.” seeing shades of red while adding spots of white.

“i’m guessing-“ “marriage! lord hargrove is here for my hand in marriage. in request of my father and his, for the good of our kingdoms.” stains of paint dripped down the canvas in tears.

“marriage,” steven repeated, you could imagine the slight snare on his face at the word.

“yes, marriage,” a deep sigh from overuse of the word, “to a man i don’t know and is expected to wed in the spring. no choice in the matter.” rinsing your brush in the murky paint water, tapping it against the lip before pressing it onto a cloth.

“not quite fair to expect that of you.” steven grabbed a stool close by to be placed beside you. he was now sitting shoulder to bicep.

you couldn’t help your scuff, “i’m but a woman. they only tolerate us cause we can be sold like sheep and breed like a calf. a single syllable from our lips can bring us death. seen not heard.” your once melancholy painting transforming into a brutal storm, one that brings sailors to the ocean floors.

dropping your brush beside your easil, you finally turn to sir steven. his back straight with knees bent at the perfect angle, a slight spread to the long limbs. forearms resting on thighs while mindlessly tugging at his fingers, head dipped with untamed strands of hair flinging about.

you spoke before you could stop, “let me paint you.” speaking quietly not wanting to disrupt the peace.

steven’s head picked up and met your wondering eyes, “pardon?” a pinch to his brows.

you cocked your head, “let me paint you. would cheer me up.” standing to your feet in search of a spare canvas.

“princess-“ “please? i wish to paint the face people pen poems and sonnets about.” trying to feed his ego.

you heard the deep sigh but saw the little smile before he could wipe it away, “your wish is my command, princess.” starting to move before you rushed over and rested a palm on his shoulder, “stay. the lighting is perfect.”

he peered up, long lashes framing normal brown eyes that held something special. his patches of silver armor cool under your warm palm. “just sit like before, but keep your head up.”

“am i getting a portrait done by the lovely princess y/n l/n? i must be the luckiest man alive.” his sword clicked off the wooden stool leg.

you started collecting more oil colors, “i would say so. and i would also say i’m the luckiest princess alive since i’ll get to stare at you while detailing my work to perfection.” 

satisfied with your supplies and making sure they stay put, you begin your simple outline in black chalk. the simple task is a distraction from your loose words and hummingbird heart.“quiet flattered, princess.” princess said in a low tone that forced you to suppress a shiver. “only the best for my favorite knight.” saying the words only to yourself.

[pastelwitchling]

Ok, based on Tyler's sexy as hell Instagram video, how about Alex eating a lollipop in front of Michael and Michael is losing his absolute mind with hornyness. 😁

@ashleymarie1684

***

“You bitch,” Michael groaned.

“Hm?” Alex blinked, the red lollipop in his mouth pushing against his lips. He was wearing one of Michael’s white shirts, the clouds outside the passenger-side window floating by behind him and silhouetting him, and his lips looked all kiss-swollen from the red of the lollipop, and Michael swore he looked like some kind of oil painting from all of his sexual fantasies brought to life. All that was missing was him wearing Michael’s Stetson –

“Oh!” Alex picked up Michael’s cowboy hat lying upside down between them. “Can I wear this? The sun’s getting in my eyes.”

Michael tightened his grip on the steering wheel. He was going to die. “I hate you so much.”

“Hm?” Alex looked up innocently past the brim of the hat, his wedding ring glinting on his finger. “What was that?”

“You know what you’re doing.”

Alex tilted his head. “You know, you’ve been clenching your jaw since we stopped at the gas station. What’s going on?”

Since we stopped at the gas station. Since Alex had perused the shelves and his eyes had lit up at the sight of the cherry-flavored lollipops, and Michael, wanting to spoil his baby, got him a whole bag of it. He was such a dumbass.

“Nothing,” he grunted. “I’m fine.”

Alex hummed, and Michael thought that would be the end of it, but then Alex’s chest was against his arm, and he was draped against his side, his chin on Michael’s shoulder.

“Talk to me, baby,” he said in that low, gravelly voice that sent shivers down Michael’s spine.

Michael jerked the car, and immediately righted their course. Alex had clutched his arm to keep for bashing into the door, his eyes wide.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Michael gasped, wrapping his arm around Alex’s waist to check him for injuries. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he said slowly, his amusement gone. “Uh, park over there.” He pointed at a spot on the side of the road directly beneath a large billboard sign where they would be shaded from the sun, and Michael did as he was told. Alex turned to face him, his left leg folded underneath him, before the truck had even stopped. “What’s going on? Did someone bother you at the gas station or something?” His eyes narrowed, and his voice darkened. “I’ll take care of it, just tell me who it was.”

Michael was so startled at the sheer protectiveness in Alex’s voice, the promise to go tear apart anyone who might’ve upset him, that he started to chuckle, which turned quickly into a laugh. Alex looked stunned, but before he could say anything else, Michael caught him behind his knee and yanked him closer.

Alex gasped, but Michael was already bringing his Stetson down to pillow his head. Michael was the only person in the world that Alex put his guard down for, so only he could ever startle him like this. The power went straight to his head, and he covered Alex’s hand on his lollipop with his own, bringing the sucker to his husband’s mouth.

“I’ve been watching you tonguing this thing for the past twenty minutes,” he said quietly, hovering over him. With his other hand, he bunched up the front of Alex’s chest and groaned at the feel of his chest hair. “You’re wearing my clothes . . . your hair looks like I just ran my hands through it,” he pinched one of Alex’s nipples, and Alex gasped, bucking his hips against Michael’s. Michael chuckled breathlessly. “You’re so gorgeous that I wanted to take you in the bathroom at the station, but the locks were broken and I wouldn’t let anyone but me see you with your clothes off.”

“Michael –”

“So I’ve been driving around,” he growled, undoing the zipper on Alex’s jeans and hooking his fingers around his waistband, “hard and dying to taste you,” he grinded his hips down against Alex’s, and let his mouth hover over Alex’s as he moaned.

“I didn’t know –” Alex breathed, pleading. “I – I didn’t know –”

Michael grinded his hips down again, and Alex cut off with another moan. Michael sank the lollipop into Alex’s mouth, down his throat, until he was gagging around it, then brought it up to his own mouth and groaned around the taste. He kept it in his mouth as he yanked down Alex’s jeans, then his own, then brought the candy down to his own cock.

“It’s okay, baby,” Michael grinned wickedly against Alex’s mouth. “I’ll just give you something else to suck on.”

***

I did wonder if anyone would submit a prompt about this 😂 Tyler definitely knows his own power.

Happy malex Monday ❤️

[chouxsardine]

Ticked (all my boxes) — Jake Kiszka x reader

Summary: It's December 24th, but you've still got so much to do. --A look into y/n's Christmas Eve with Jake in the form of a to-do list

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x reader

Word Count: 5655

Warnings: not much, mentions of alcohol, nearly 6k of PURE FLUFF

Genre: holiday fic, tooth-rotting fluff

Tips: Some may prefer an uninterrupted reading experience, but I have linked some visual cues to the specific items mentioned in the fic so you can better visualize them. You can click when you see an underlined word. Please suit yourself :)

Author's note: This is my GVF Secret Santa gift for @nina-23-45 (if you are Nina, please click here for A Letter from Santa; Sorry for the wait!!). This is the longest fic I've written. As challenging as it is, I honestly had so much fun writing it, it has certainly helped me find the joy of writing again, and I wish to share it with all of you. I hope you are staying cozy, happy, and healthy. Happy holidays. This is a long one, so grab your hot cocoa, make yourself comfy, snuggle with your pets, put on some of your favourite holiday tunes, and...enjoy!!

🎧: everyone has their own favourite Christmas songs, so take your pick! But I do recommend listen to Cause We've ended as Lovers by Jeff Beck when you have time

7:00 AM You crack open an eye. The red digital numbers on the bedside clock becomes clearer in your vision. You try to move and feel Jake’s arm wrapped protectively around your midsection. You turn your head slightly, and there is your lover: his hair covering half of his face, breathing long and even, soundly asleep like some royal prince from a medieval oil painting, although you know he’d probably prefer to look like a pirate with a pipe hanging out of his mouth, if he had the choice. The thought of that brings a smile to your face. You manage to escape from Jake’s hug without waking him up, moving one frame at a time like a character in a slowed-down stop motion film. Jake lets out a grunt as you finally climb out of bed. You hold your breath nervously, but he doesn’t stir, just rubs his cheek further into the pillow. You place a feathery kiss on his temple and tiptoe downstairs.

You were never a morning person, but tomorrow is Christmas and you know it is going to be a long day of preparation. You put the kettle on, taking out two mugs from the cupboard, and find yourself staring eye to eye with Blackbeard. That’s the mug you got for Jake when you started living together. He has been using it ever since. He even drinks whiskey out of it. (“No one drinks whiskey out of a mug, Jake.” “I’m the Captain, I make ship happens if I want to!” refutes Jake in his Oliver Reed voice)

The whistling kettle pulls back your attention. You pour the boiling water over the tea bags. The living room is dimly lit. A certain kind of dimness mixed with a humidity that is unique to winter days. You peak through the blinds, the snow has stopped; everything is covered in white.

You stand in front of the open fridge as a pair of arms snake around your waist, following by Jake’s chin resting on your shoulder.

“Morning, beautiful.”

“Hmm, it’s still very early. Did I wake you up?” You reach your hand back to ruffle up his hair.

“Nope, the bed is just cold without you.”

“What do you want for breakfast, anything that caught your eye?” Holding the fridge door open without taking further action is your guilty pleasure; you feel like an old Duchess inspecting her prized jewelry collection.

“Dunno. Omelet?” You’re not even sure if Jake’s eyes are open from how sleepy his voice sounds.

“Sure, but only if you are making it. I can never get them to the right texture and it pisses me off!” You scold dramatically as you retrieve the eggs.

“Uh-uh, can’t have a pissed-off y/n for Christmas,” Jake takes over the carton, “but I do know she makes some killer sausage patties.”

Lord, this man knows how to hype you up, even when it’s the simplest task of throwing some pre-cooked frozen meat into the oven.

Fifteen minutes later, the two of you are sitting at the table. You sink your fork into a piece of omelet. Upon tasting it, your eyes light up immediately. The outside maintains its shape with lightly crispy edges while the inside melts away in a creamy concoction.

“Jake, this tastes like liquid sun!” You compliment in awe.

Jake snorts out a chuckle at your analogy, trying to wave it off, despite the fact that he is obviously flustered. As the good girlfriend that you are, of course you won’t let go of the chance to tease him. So you wave you fork like a baton and hum your improvised tune: “Jakey boy did it again, oh he done did it again!”

This time Jake is full-on laughing. “Come on, y/n. It’s just an omelet.”

“How dare you?” You gasp, pretending to be offended. “This is not JUST an omelet, this omelet has…” you lower your voice and flutter your fingers around the food, “rock star magic in it!”

What a nice way to start off the day, you think as you chew on another forkful of egg, certainly worth sacrificing some sleep.

✅ A nice morning with a full belly.

10:00 AM You push and the wooden door opens with a jingle and a creak. You hurry inside and are wrapped in a warm embrace of the musty smell of paper and expired mothballs. The ruddy-cheeked old man behind the counter looks up from the tome in front of him and greets you warmly: “Good morning, dear.”

“Morning, Mr. Friesen.” You hold your freezing fingers near the wood stove that stands in the centre of the room. “It’s so cold out there today.”

“On the brighter side, we get a white Christmas, ain’t so lucky last year.”

Friesen’s is your favourite second-hand book store around town. You have been a regular since freshman year in college, and you have lost count of how much money you saved by relying on the old textbooks you found here. Naturally, you have acquainted yourself with its friendly and mysterious owner. Mr. Friesen is quite the myth and legend himself. From his conversation with customers that you’ve accidentally eavesdropped over the years, you pieced together that he used to be the frontman of a rock band in the 70s before one of his bandmates sadly passed away in an accident. He opened the bookshop as an extension of his basement collection thirty years ago.

“I have the books here for you. They are still in decent condition, a rare find these days. Whoever’s getting them must be lucky.”

One good thing about the Friesen’s is that if there’s something specific you’re looking for, you can always request it. There’s no guarantee, but Mr. Friesen will try his best; and this man never disappoints. A few weeks ago, you asked him to keep an eye out for any American classics: Hemingway, Fitzgerald and the like, planning to give them to Josh as his Christmas present. You were losing hope until you received a last-minute call from the bookshop, telling you that a rare first edition of John Steinbeck’s Cannery Row is ready for you to pickup.

“I honestly can’t thank you enough. You’re such a gem,” you smile. “And I have a little Christmas present for you as well.” You pull out a wrapped vinyl from your tote bag.

“Oh you don’t have to do that, my dear,” Mr. Friesen peels back the wrapping paper. “Oh! Phil Sector’s Christmas Album, I don’t have this one yet. What a nice addition to my collection. Thank you, y/n.”

“You’re welcome, Mr. Friesen. It’s the least I can do. You’ve always been so kind to me.”

The old man hums before looking up at you somewhat smugly. “Now, excuse me for being nosy, but how’s it going with that rock star boyfriends of yours?”

Despite being together for so long and being open about your relationship, you still blush when people mention Jake as your boyfriend in public. You have brought Jake to the bookstore before, while things between you were still platonic. If Mr. Friesen sensed anything then, he never let it show.

Taking in your expression, Mr. Friesen beams meaningfully, “Well, I think he’s a lucky guy. You can always tell from a person’s appearance when they’re with the right one, and I can see it in you. I’ll say he’s a keeper, that kid.”

“That’s such a nice thing for you to say,” you reply shyly.

“Well, I shouldn’t be keeping you any longer. It seems like someone is already waiting,” Mrs. Friesen motions outside the window. You follow his gaze and see Jake standing across the street.

“Merry Christmas, Mr. Friesen. Thank you again.”

“Anytime, kiddo. Merry Christmas.”

Outside the bookshop, Jake is kicking a chunk of ice between his feet while he waits for you.

“Do You have everything you need?” You ask.

“Yes. Do you?” he holds out his elbow and you happily hook your arm through it.

“Yup.” You show him the book wrapped in brown paper.

“Huh,” He huffs in a playfully offended voice, “someone’s got the good stuff this year.”

You slight elbow him in the ribs. “Hoy, you green-eyed monster, that’s because Josh’s on the good list this year.”

“Oh, is that so? How did I make it onto the naughty list then?”

“The possibilities are endless!” You exaggerate, holding out your hands to count, “first, for being the sexy little swine that you are…”

You and Jake could probably go on like this forever if weren’t for the fact that you’re arriving at your destination. To finish some last minute Christmas shopping is the only reason that you are outside on such a cold day. You and Jake have decided to “divide and conquer”, with you going to the bookshop to pick up Josh’s gift and Jake going to the liquor store to for some nice Prosecco for the family gathering tomorrow. Then, you will go to the mall together to pick up the present for your cousin.

Rewind to about an hour ago:

As much as your cousin is a sweetheart, it is a real pain to buy Christmas presents for her. And as the procrastinator that you are, of course, you put it off until the last minute to make decisions. Last but not the least, you comfort yourself. Now the time has come for you to have a taste of your own medicine. You were unconsciously tugging your hair as you stared at the coffee table, furrowing your eyebrows deep in concentration.

“Why do you look worried?” Jake plopped down onto the couch next to you.

“I still haven’t got a present for my cousin.” You rubbed your temple and groaned. “I feel like she’s got everything. Everyone always says, ‘oh it’s not about the gift’, but I couldn’t go to her empty handed! I mean, it’s Christmas, people are expecting gifts anyways.”

“Actually, if you don’t mind, I think I have an idea.” Jake reached for his phone and you perked up.

“I saw this the other day, do you think it will suit her?” Jake showed you a picture of what happens to be a magnetic key holder. “Ronnie has mentioned it before, and I saw it at the mall the other day. Didn’t you tell me that your cousin just got her own place earlier this month? It could be a nice housewarming slash Christmas gift.”

“No, you didn’t! ” You almost jolted up from the sofa. “Aww, thank you, Jake! you don’t have to do that!”

“That’s okay, love, anything that takes worries away from my girl.” He beams back at you. “Now we just need to go to the store to pick it up.”

You have always known Jake for being the most caring and attentive lover. But this is on a whole another level. The fact that he even keeps the most mundane trifles you blurt out in mind shows how much he cares. You have already been deeply incorporated into his life, his every decisions now will always include the factor of “you”. The thought makes your heart melt.

Therefore, here you are now, standing in front of the mall entrance.

Although Jake has made your task a thousand times easier, you still hated going into the mall. The crowd, the music, all the right ingredients for sensory overload.

“Last-minute Christmas shopping, yeah?”

“Okay, deep breath,” Jake holds both of your hands in his, eyes shining with encouragement. “I know the exact shelf it’s on. We’ll go in and out, quick as a bunny, a Christmas Bunny, alright?”

“Yeah, okay, we can do this.” You nod.

“One, two, three….go!”

And like Mario Karts you two set off.

You are sure there are people passing by watching you two adults giggling and pushing through the revolving doors like you are lunatics, but you don’t give a hoot. You love embracing your inner child from time to time, and you just happen to be so lucky to have the right person who makes you feel at ease doing so.

✅ Drop off vinyl and pick up the book for Josh at Friesen’s Christmas present for (your cousin’s name)

2:15 PM The film is still playing in the background, you must’ve fallen asleep. See, you just know that waking up too early isn’t for you.

You feel exhausted after your gift-hunting excursion, so you decide to watch a film together while snacking on some chips. Your Christmas movie list is like no other—none of the fluffy rom coms like The Holidays or Love Actually, also no household classics like Home Alone or Miracle on 34th Street. To be fair, you have nothing against them, you just prefer something that brings more of an adrenaline rush. Therefore, your picks consist mainly of psychological thrillers and horror movies. You remember feeling apprehensive when you first told Jake about it, thinking it would be weird for a girl to choose The Shining over Titanic. But Jake is completely unbothered. Instead, he loves that about you. “Love my girl quirky,” is how he had put it. “And I get to hold you if you’re scared.” (You always protest that you’re not, but sometimes you do, and you have to admit it does feel nice to have someone’s shirt to bury your face into just in case some scenes get too intense for your liking). Actually, you think now you’ve successfully gotten Jake into it as well. He especially likes to plague you with his theories after you have finished the movie, turned off the lights, and snuggled under the duvets. (“But do you think he really killed her? I mean, what if—-” “Jake, enough!”)

But now, art kind of imitates life. The house feels weirdly empty and quiet. Jake is no where in sight.

“Jake?” Not in the bathroom. Not in his studio in the basement. Not in the garage either.

Just as you are staring to wonder if this is some kind of prank, you look outside the window and saw a familiar figure in the backyard. Jake was standing near the fence, fumbling with something. His back is turned against you, so you couldn’t figure out what he is doing.

It starts snowing again. The crisp air outdoor whips all the sleepiness clear from your head. You wrap your arm around yourself and walk towards Jake. He must be really focused on whatever he is doing because he didn’t hear you approaching at all. Now you are standing close enough to see clearly.

He uses a gift card to scoop up some snow, flattens it with his palm, and then adheres the now thin slice of snow to a stick. There are already layers attached to it; the shape of it somewhat resembles a flower.

“Jake, what are you doing up here?”

Jake spins around. For a moment, he wears the expression of a child being caught red-handed stealing cookies from the countertop. And then you see what he is holding in his hand.

It is a half-finished rose, but made of snow.

“Shh, it’s almost done. Just give me a moment.” Jake has that serious look on his face, the same one on stage when he was looking down at his guitar through hooded eyes, a slight crease at the inner corner of his eyebrows; his lips pressed, showing his Marionette lines. His long eyelashes give the false impression that he has his eyes closed.

The snows has accumulated over night and reached a rather firm texture, which is idea for shaping. But it is also naturally brittle. Even if you are not the one making it, you can tell that it requires one to find the sweet spot between melting the snow and wetting it just enough so that it sticks. You see Jake’s hand red with cold and your heart wrenches at the sight. He doesn’t seem to care at all. You want stop him right there, but something about his demeanour tells you that he really wants to show you the result.

It seems that Jake got the gist of it pretty quickly. He repeats the process a few more times and there it is, a rose made of snow. The layered petals hug around the bud, its edges crystal and flimsy like cicadas’ wings. He picks it up by the stem carefully and extends it to you.

“Here, a rose for my dearest.”

You are too stunned to speak, struck by the beauty frozen in time. You don’t know where he gets the idea from, but it is such an endearing gesture, him leaving the warm bedside of his soundly asleep lover, standing in the cold, molding snow with his bare hands, just so that he could surprise her.

“I…I love this so much. Thank you, Jake.”

When you look up at Jake, your eyes are stinging with tears. The tip of Jake’s nose is frozen red, as well as his cheeks. He was looking at you with a toothy grin. As cliché as it may sound, Jake truly came into your life like a knight in an armour made of starlight. Being in a relationship with him has taught you so much more about growth, trust, and loyalty. He adores and cherishes you with all his heart. He will always make an effort for you, will always firmly choose you and stand by you to support you. Shy he maybe, when he loves, he never holds back. A single rose has always meant the words, “I love you”; it holds all his love.

“Don’t cry, my dear, your tears are gonna freeze too. I wanted you to be happy.” Jake coos, wiping away your tears. The coldness of his thumb reminds you of you shouldn’t be wasting more time on stupid tears and Jake should get his hands warmed up.

“Wait here!” You yell over your shoulder as you run inside the house. Don’t even bother taking off your wet boots; you grab a Tupperware and a piece of styrofoam laying around from the gift wrappings and rush back out.

“This is going to live in my fridge forever.”

Jake laughs as he helps you stab the snapped stem onto the styrofoam to secure the rose in the container. “It is truly amazing how romance always resides in the ephemeral and transient things. It is lucky that we still have eyes that can see and a heart that is still beating to appreciate them.”

“Yes, but not everyone is lucky to have this kind of beauty and happiness captured for them, though.” You put his hands into the pocket of your coat as you walk back inside, “Oh, Jakey boy, what have I done to deserve you?”

✅ A snow rose. This one is uncalled for, but hey, what’s a to-do list if there wasn’t some surprise interruption, especially when it’s an incredibly precious one like this.

7:45 PM You have been checking on your snow rose every time you open the fridge (which is very often), like checking on the pet goldfish you’ve got in kindergarten.

“Baby, you know it’s not gonna grow legs and run away, right?” Jake leans against the kitchen counter. “With that much snow out there, I could just make you another—-”

“Don’t you dare risk those money makers for things like this again!” You give him a pointed look. You have been babying Jake’s hands since the moment you got back inside: running them under lukewarm water, submerging them in a basin of warm water with essential oil, rubbing and massaging his fingers to accelerate blood circulation, you even made him apply some coconut-scented hand cream (“My hands smell like piña colada”). Jake has to assure you thrice or even more times that he feels just fine, but still, you give him that suspicious “mom” look. (“Y/n, I promise you my hands are fine. They are strong guitar fingers, they can hold against a little chills. Plus, I’ve broken my arm before and——-” “Shhhhh! Knock on wood, Jake!”)

“Anyways, I think the cookie dough should be done chilling. Do you mind taking them out after you’ve done inspecting your rose, my love?”

You are baking some cookies for the family gathering tomorrow. You have found a recipe for Aquarium Cookies, which upgrades the traditional stained glass cookies by pressing two of them together and creating some space in between for sprinkles. You are also going to bake some regular sugar cookies using the instrument-shaped cookie cutters you bought, one symbol for each boy.

Baking is your favourite Christmas activities. It warms up the house—both temperature and atmosphere-wise, and makes it smell like a bakery. And nothing beats decorating cookies.

Think about it, a gingerbread house is too limited, and let’s be honest, half of it mostly ended up in the stomachs of some raccoons. Decorating a whole cake is too daunting, but cookies, cookies are perfect! Perfect size, perfect usage, no waste, everyone’s happy.

“They are basically edible canvases,” you tell Jake as he hands you a rolled-out dough.

“Y/n, have I told you how I love the way you brain works? ‘Liquid sun’, 'edible canvases’. Listen to yourself, you are basically a lyricist.”

How does Jake just constantly whips out compliments out of thin air and make your heart flutters like colourful flags in the wind? You smile bashfully. However, the next second, that smile turns into a pout as you remove the cookie cutter and find out that the guitar cookie has a broken neck again.

“Jake, I broke it again,” you whine.

“Here, let me try.” Jake takes over your failed attempts, crumbles it into a ball and flattens it with the rolling pin.

You hold your breathe as Jake gently lifts up the mold. The cookie lies pliantly in his hands. No break. It is kind of magical how Jake can basically “tame” all the guitars in the world if he wants to, even if they’re composed of flour, butter, and sugar.

“How do you do that?” you marvel. “Really, how come you are so good at cooking?” Jake made pasta for dinner using his secret sauce recipe. You helped yourself to two servings.

“Hmm, because I’m a good poet.” Jake says as he produces another perfectly drum-shaped cookie.

“Enlighten me, please.”

“‘A good poet differs nothing at all from a master-cook. Either’s art is the wisdom of the mind’.”

Jake couldn’t help but chuckle at your star-struck fangirl face, “Not my words, it’s from Ben Johnson’s ‘Neptune's Triumph for the Return of Albion’.”

Of course, of course, he would just quote some 17th-century play like it’s some item off the grocery list. You shouldn’t be expecting anything less from a man who recites poetry while launching a paper plane.

✅ Bake and decorate Christmas cookies (philosophically, with a side of literature)

9:43 PM You decided to go to bed early so that you would have enough energy for the official Christmas Day tomorrow. You are going to Karen and Kelly’s house around noon for the family gathering and dinner. But there remains one very important thing to do before you sleep, and you have been waiting in excitement the whole day like a pupil on their way for a field trip.

You and Jake will do your personal gift-opening on Christmas Eve. It is a special and intimate moment just between the two of you when you elope as lovers to your own love nest. It is a time that you deliberately reserve for yourselves away from all the hectic holiday bustle. It has been a tradition of yours, something you probably will keep on doing even after you have kids in the future (that is, if you decide to have them), just to remind yourselves of the special bond you share. And nothing and no one will change it, not the possibilities of additional family members nor the passage of time.

A string version of Last Christmas is playing in the background. Some may consider it a worn-out tune, but it holds a special place in your heart. It brings you back to your sweet elementary school years, where you and your friends would secretly meet together after school and rehearse the song for the school’s annual Christmas party. You guys were so serious about it, coming up with the choreography and everything. And you also remember your mom showing Jake the pictures of your performance when he met your parents for the first time. You feel embarrassed, but Jake finds you adorable in your silly little Santa hat and fluffy costume. Since then, he has made a mental note to always have some version of this song playing in the house around the holiday seasons.

You are wearing one of Jake’s sweaters. It’s a green acrylic sweater from his younger years. He once let you borrow it on a particularly rainy camping trip, and it was the first piece of clothing that you’ve “adopted” from his closet after you got together. The sleeves are a bit long for you, always covering half of your palms when you put your arms down, but you love it; it feels like holding Jake’s hands.

You treat this activity with an almost ritualistic seriousness, making sure you are in your most comfortable state, both mentally and physically.

“Come sit, angel,” Jake pats the space on the carpet next to the fireplace where he is sitting.

You happily oblige. You will play a round of rock, paper, scissors to decide who goes first. This time Jake loses, so he will start first.

He reaches under the Christmas tree and pulls out a small box with forest green wrapping paper. You almost feel bad for ripping the paper just because how beautiful the colour is. You open the lid to reveal a little witch figurine. She is about twenty centimetres tall and made out of wool. She wears a dress with a mixed shade of orange, warm brown hair hanging down to her waist, and a tawny pointy hat with a milky ribbon proudly sitting on top. She holds an Oslo grey broom in her hand, her arms opening as if she is caught in the middle of welcoming someone. The metal spring attachment in the bottom showing her function as a tree topper.

“She is so beautiful!” Your thumb brushes her dress, the wool so smooth and soft.

“It is only right to have her look after the house for my little quirky girl,” Jake says. “Do you want to put it up and see how it looks?”

You nod excitedly and step onto the stool beside the tree. Just like magic, she blends into the whole look perfectly, adding a rustic charm and a warm glow to the evergreen. It is as if she’s belonged there all along.

“I love her already. Thank you so much, baby.” You bend down to kiss Jake on the lips. He knows you so well, he knows that your fantasy since you were a little girl has been living in the woods as a witch, and he remembers how excited you were when the music video of Meeting the Master came out.

“Now, my next gift may need you to help me out a bit,” you say as you walk towards the bookshelf. Jake stands within reaching distance, watching you in curiosity as you move the metal vase stand out of the way and then reach into the gap between the bookshelf and the wall with your right arm. He helps you drag out a long rectangular box.

“Wow, sneaky move here, y/n.” Jake teases. “But that’s a good hiding spot though, I wouldn’t have thought.”

“That’s the point,” you smirk. You are quite proud of yourself, honestly. Jake has been at the studio a lot this month, and you did not let those hours go to waste. Jake wanders around the house when he can’t sleep at night, and you have contemplated a lot of hiding spots.

“This is big stuff,” Jake tears away the wrapping. You got Jake a Whiskey Barrel guitar holder. As the name suggests, it holds three guitars and is made out of staves from renowned bourbon distilleries. The wood is sanded and matt coated, with the black marks of the barrel rings showing its origin. Each piece is unique.

“Merry Christmas! I thought it’d be a nice addition to your studio downstairs.” You lace your fingers together nervously.

“I say it’s a perfect upgrade! The Gibsons are definitely going up on the walls, baby!” Jake presents a winsome smile. “Thank you so much, y/n.”

If your excitement are already bubbling, now it has been dialed up even higher. You and Jake have one last gift for each other and both of you love to save the best for last.

“I didn’t wrap this next one, because I have been literally still adding to it as of today. Now close your eyes.” You move to sit across from Jake.

Jake feels something like a book being laid in his lap. He opens his eyes and sees what appears to be a leather sketchbook. You nod and motion him to flip through it.

They are sketches. Sketches of him. The first page is a sketch of Jake sitting on the lawn and holding his guitar He recognizes that’s one of your first dates at the park. There’s Jake in his sword and rose costume on stage. You have always told him that is one of your favourite costumes of his. There’s Jake in his aprons, stirring something over the stove. There’s Jake soundly asleep, you must’ve sketched that one while he was taking a nap….the last page, freshly dated, concludes with the sketch of a single rose, resembling the one he made for you earlier this afternoon. You have used your pencil as an old-fashion camera and encapsulated all the lovely moments between you on paper.

“I’m not the best with my sketching, but you know, I’m improving. Also, it is not fair for you to be so pretty that it is difficult to draw.” You cheeks now are rosy pink.

“No, sweetheart, these are perfect,” Jake reaches to cup your face, “you know I have always adored your drawings.” He can also see you through the pages; you sitting by the table, stealing glances at him, nibbling on the back of the pencil. The weight of the sketchbook is way more than just paper and lead; it is also his lover’s heart.

“So, to wrap up the night.” Jake gets up and lifts the needle off the playing record. The room becomes quiet, brewing with anticipation. He pulls out his lap top and turns it to face you. On the desktop, there’s a folder labeled with your name; a single audio file lies in it. Jake turns the volume to the fullest and clicks on the file.

Within five seconds, you have recognized it is Jeff Beck’s Cause We’ve Ended as Lovers. Or, should you say, Jake’s version of Jeff Beck’s Cause We’ve Ended as Lovers. The song is without a doubt your all-time favourite guitar solo. The whole Blow by Blow album is amazing, but you have taken a special liking to this song. Yes, it is sad, but it is bittersweet in a poignant and amicable way. It is an elegiac of old lovers but also an affirmation and proof of a beautiful memory, representing the a part of life that is forever altered just because you have crossed path with someone. For the whole five minutes and forty-two seconds, it is as if you are transported to another dimension. Now, this song has become even more significant to you. The fact that Jake covers and records it for you feels makes it particularly personal and intimate. You try to picture him standing in the studio, in a similar position as the figure on the album cover.

A single tear escapes the corner of your eye and Jake is quick to catch it with his thumb. You hold his hand close to your face, kissing his fingers gently.

“I’m in my feels again,” you say after taking a deep breathe, “continue to make me cry and I will need to go check on my emotional support rose again.”

Jake chuckles. “Aww, I am glad you like it, love. Merry Christmas.”

“Thank you so much. I love you, Jake.”

“I love you too, doll.” He scoots over closer. “Now, can I get another kiss from my girl?”

Surely he can, but you just want to tease him a bit more.

“Oops, I’m afraid you can’t, sir. I see no mistletoe around here.” You grin mischievously.

Jake was prepared for your impishness. He grabs his phone and quickly searches up a photo of mistletoe. Holding it above your heads, he raises his eyebrows, a silent “how about now?”

You roll your eyes. “Come here already, you dork.”

✅ Give Jake his gifts. (The guitar holder is hiding behind the bookshelf)

10:21 PM Having exhausted almost every single item on your to-do list, it is finally time to relax. You lie in each other’s arm like a pretzel. You are dozing off to the steady rhythm of Jake’s heartbeat. You must have ended up on the nice list this year. You are so grateful for all you have, for being loved and cared for in every way.

✅ Snuggle with Jake. Tell him how much you love him.

Mentally, you tick off the last box of your Christmas Eve to-do list before falling into a dream filled with marshmallows and hot chocolate, starlight and lover.

Here, you made it!! Thank you so much for reading.

Just in case you want to check out more of my works:

Mariner's Complex || Permission to Fall || Love is a four-legged word || The Lucky Ones ||

I'm just starting off with writing fics for gvf, please leave a comment or send me an ask/message if you would like me to put up a tag list :)