#if you like mushrooms too you should check out:

[mistyjessart]

“Hobbits have a passion for mushrooms, surpassing even the greediest likings of Big People.”

The Fellowship of the Ring, J.R.R. Tolkien

[smileysuh]

sage & stardust

🌙 starring. Kim Mingyu x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. “I think you’re amazing, and good with your hands, and pretty, and I enjoy spending time with you too,” he counters, echoing the entirety of your sentiment. You stare blankly up at the man. It’s clear he doesn’t know what you’re getting at. You wonder how fairies court each other- do they even court each other? Do fairies have sex? Or are they just… you don’t know, blossomed out of flower buds or something?

tw/cw. Unprotected sex, Mingyu holds y/n down by the wrists, size kink, mentions of possible bondage kink, heavy petting, worship, Mingyu is a boobs guy, nipple sucking, fingering, pussy stretching, foreplay, multiple reader orgasms, oral (f receiving), praise, dirty talk, etc… I pet names: (hers) my star. (his) Gyu.  

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 9.6k

🍭 aus. Fairy au, fantasy au, non idol. 

☀️ mlist + an. Okay, so, I’ve written sooo many fics on this blog, and lately I’ve been wanting to try things I haven’t done before. I’ve never done a legit small man fairy dude (who does become normal/large sized later) x yn in a fic before, so bare with me, because these two are such a delightfully domestic pairing. Without further adieu, I give you: blue-collar fairy Mingyu. 

Prologue

Pandora lives in a little cottage in the forest. Even though she’s young, she knows the trees and ferns, the mushrooms and flowers. Who needs mundane playthings when you have four entire acres of wilderness to keep you entertained? 

Her mother is an artist, and steady hands run in the family. Pandora spends her evenings carefully painting a dollhouse model of the cottage that her father had crafted for her in his little workshop shed outside.

All in all, it’s a peaceful existence, and things are very predictable. Mother is in the studio solarium room, fingers covered in inks and colorful spots. Father is crafting something in his shed, fixing up the house as he engages in an endless war against the elements of the forest. 

Pandora flutters around, checking in on her parents, and exploring the immediate grounds around the cottage. Today, she’s following a particularly beautiful butterfly as it glides amongst the trees down by the pond. She’s so enamored with the pretty wings, that she almost doesn’t notice the fairy ring. 

A circle of mushrooms, one she’s scouted out before, is along the bank of the murky water. Pandora has heard tales of fairies and pixies, and has been warned not to enter circles like this. She sidesteps the ring, and that’s when she notices something out of place, something that hadn’t been there yesterday.

Just outside of the little circle, is a small creature. At first glance, the glossy wings look butterfly-like, but Pandora has never seen sage green wings like these on a bug. The small child pauses, hiking up her dress and kneeling down to get a better look.

Definitely not a butterfly. Where an insect would have a thorax at the joining of wings, this creature has a tiny little man. Well, he’s bigger than a butterfly would be, but it’s clear to the young girl that she’s looking at a fairy, and as she inspects him further, she notices one of his wings is torn.

Pandora has mended butterfly wings with her father before- she knows what to do, but she’s hesitant. Should she help this small fairy, as she’s helped many bugs before him? Is he simply resting and not in immediate danger?

She looks around, noting any predators in the surrounding area. A large bird circles overhead, and Pandora decides she has to act. Reaching for a leaf, she scoops the tiny fairy's body into the greenery, carefully carrying him back toward the cottage.

As she gets there, she sees her father getting into his work truck to head to town, and Pandora knows better than to stop him. She also knows better than to go interrupt her mother, who is on a deadline for a piece and has asked not to be disturbed.

No, Pandora will have to do this rescue mission herself, and she heads into her father’s workshop to find the glue.

She does her best to be gentle, even with her pudgy fingers, as she mends the torn wing. When she’s done, Pandora finds one of the many small boxes her father has made. It’s a cedar box, with a small, iron latch.

Leaving the fairy, she goes outside, collecting a little nest of moss to put into the box.

When everything is finished, she sets the fairy into the box, carefully closing it and latching it shut. He needs some rest, and as far as the small child is concerned, he’s safer in her little box than lying in the grass where big predators might hurt him.

One:

“I’m sure it’s no surprise that your grandmother left you the cottage,” the lawyer in charge of the estate tells you as he looks over the papers on his desk. “As you are the only artist in the family, Pandora wrote that she hopes the solace will inspire, as it had inspired her, and her mother before her.”

You nod solemnly. It’s a monumental gift, one your cousins would kill you for- but alas, you’d spent the most time with your grandmother in her later days, and the solarium studio is already set up as your own. To be young, and a homeowner now- this had never been your intention in spending time with her, but perhaps it’s a happy outcome, given the dire situation of her passing.

“She also wanted me to tell you, that you can finally open the box.” The lawyer looks at you expectantly, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Do you know what she was referring to?”

“Yes,” you respond. “She’d kept this small cedar box. Her father had made it for her when she was a child. It’s on her nightstand, but she’s never opened it.”

“Well, that’s… interesting.”

“Yeah, Pandora’s Box, I know the story,” you let out a sad chuckle. “Part of me doesn’t want to open it, she always told me not to, I guess I made it this big bad thing in my head as a kid.”

“I’m sure it’s just jewelry or something of the sort,” the lawyer assures you, and you remind yourself that men of the law are never the superstitious type.

Two:

You’re a few glasses deep into your bottle of wine, and you find yourself looking at your grandmother’s small cedar box. Curiosity is getting the better of you, and liquid courage is doing wonders to calm your superstitions. 

There can’t be anything dangerous in the box, or your grandma wouldn’t have left it for you… right?

Taking a breath, you approach the box. It’s sitting on your dining room table, you’d gingerly carried it from the bedroom earlier, with the intention of opening it, and now, you will. 

You sit, staring at it for a few moments. Your hands shake when you reach for it, but you push away your anxiety. The iron latch is old and worn, but it clicks open after a bit of work. Taking another deep breath, you lift the cedar lid. 

Nothing happens, no surge of dark spirits releasing the worst of humanity, no hurricane or pestilence-

You lean forward, looking into the box, and you’re shocked by what you find there.

Half buried in a nest of mossy greens that looked like they were only picked hours ago, is a small winged man. It’s a fairy, you realize, with glossy wings-

He stirs a little, stretching his arms above his head and yawning.

How could this be? Ignoring the moss that’s apparently been preserved for over seventy years, how is this tiny creature still alive after being shut away for a lifetime?

Part of you wants to close the box, to forget about it- but then the tiny man’s eyes open, and he stares up at you. You freeze immediately, as if paralyzed, your mind going blank in the face of the supernatural.

The fairy rubs his eyes, sitting up amongst the bed of moss. His hair is all messy, but in a way that’s kind of adorable. He gazes up at you, and then, he speaks. “Hello?”

“Hi?” It comes out a question, and you’re unsure how to proceed, so you say nothing else.

“Sorry, this is embarrassing,” he laughs, and you note the way his skin has turned pink. “Did you save me?”

“As horrible as this sounds, I uh… inherited you?”

“I don’t even know what that means,” the tiny man muses. “I remember being attacked by a large bird in my realm, my wing was damaged, I made my way to a fairy ring to come to your world and recuperate, but I must have passed out.”

You consider his words for a moment. “My grandma used to fix butterfly wings, is it possible she found you and fixed yours?”

The fairy extends one of his sage appendages, inspecting it. “It definitely looks repaired… Your grandma, you said?”

“Yes.” You nod. “I was told she’d had this box since she was a girl… have you been in here for a long time?”

“I was in hibernation, the dark and the moss- it was healing, I awoke because of the light.”

“So you have been in there for years,” you conclude, shocked. “I’m… I’m so sorry.”

“How many years is ‘years?’ You humans have a different view of time than I do.”

“Probably seventy or eighty?” you suggest.

“It didn’t feel like that long.” He cocks his head to the side, clearly thinking, then he looks up at you again. “How long have you had me?”

“I uh…” you swallow thickly at the question. “Well, I just inherited the cottage, and my grandma left the box to me in her will too… so, only two days.”

He nods, looking down, continuing to think hard about whatever it is that fairies ponder deeply on. 

“How… how do you feel?”

“Well rested,” he smiles, breaking the look of deep concentration. “I’m ready to get back to tinkering.”

Tinkering… that definitely sounds like a fairy word, and you don’t question him further. 

“Please don’t let me stop you from getting back to your home,” you tell him. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience of my grandmother keeping you in this box all this time.”

“It’s alright,” he yawns again, then pushes himself up from the moss. He’s dressed in a little green fairy outfit, and you do your best to commit him to your memory. His wings are truly beautiful, the way they shimmer even in the electric light of your kitchen. “I remember a pond.”

“Yes, there’s one right out the back way, must be a fairy circle there,” you nod.

“Thank you for the directions,” he smiles sincerely, and then, he begins to fly. You wonder how such delicate-looking wings could carry his body weight as he heads toward your open kitchen window. He lands on the ledge there, turning to give you one final nod of farewell, and then the fairy is gone.

You sit there for a few minutes, staring after him in shock.

How much wine did you have to drink?

Three:

It’s a Thursday like any other. You’re getting used to living in this cute cottage in the woods, spending your mornings waking up with the sun, heating a kettle for tea, and letting the creative juices flow in your mind before you ease your way to the studio to paint.

It’s the end of spring, and the promise of summer warmth is looming on the horizon. 

You’re just beginning to contemplate breakfast when there’s a knock at your door, and it makes your heart freeze in your chest.

Although you might be getting somewhat accustomed to the seclusion, there are still very real dangers of being a single woman out on a large property alone in the woods, and this fact makes you hesitant as you head to your front door.

You can make out a large man through the glass, and you take a breath before peaking your head out. “Hello?”

It takes you a moment to recognize the man, as he’s substantially larger than the last time you saw him. The fairy is no longer palm-sized, instead, he’s well over six foot, and he flashes an awkward smile down at you. “Hi.”

You take in his attire, the worn jeans and the green flannel… you also note that he’s barefooted. “You’re wearing my grandpa's clothes.”

“Yeah, I uh… noticed the box in your truck, figured you might be getting rid of them anyways, so I slipped in through a crack in the window. I couldn’t just show up naked.”

Good point. “You’re big now,” you point out.

“Can I uh… can I come in?” He rubs the back of his neck nervously, surveying your front porch.

You take a breath. Part of you says this is a bad idea, but part of you is also saying that this is a fairy the size of a human man, and if you don’t hear him out, you’ll be wondering what could have been for the rest of your life.

You push your door open for him. “I just made some tea, follow me.”

The fairy’s footsteps are loud on your wooden floors as he shadows you to the kitchen. You give him your cup, pouring a second one for yourself before leaning back against your sink. 

“I don’t even know where to start,” the fairy sighs, taking a seat at your small dining table. He cups his large hands around the mug of tea, as if warming himself.

“Well, I’m y/n,” you tell him.

He smiles thankfully. “Mingyu.”

“Nice to meet you again, Mingyu, how about you tell me how you’re human-sized and your wings are gone?”

“Fairies can transform. In my own realm, keeping my smaller shape is easier, but here- it takes less energy to just… blend in. It’s a sort of, um, adaptation, for survival, I guess.” 

“It doesn’t make sense how you can go from tiny to massive,” you point out.

“Well, you see, I’m big for a fairy,” Mingyu laughs nervously. “It’s part of the reason I never fit in that well with others of my kind.”

You frown at his words, giving him the space to continue.

“Yeah, so anyways, I went back home, and I had been gone a while, and it just felt weird. I hadn’t fit in before, and I didn’t fit in when I got back, and I guess I just figured… you’re a girl, and you’re here alone, in the forest- I mentioned I’m a tinkerer right? I fix things? Was thinking maybe I could help fix up your place.”

Is he seriously offering to fix your house? You stare at him in shock. “I’ve never really thought about fairies being blue-collared.”

“Blue-collared?” he looks down at his flannel in confusion.

“Never mind, it’s uh, it’s a phrase, it means you’re a worker, you do building and stuff.”

“I’m really good at building and fixing things,” he nods solemnly. 

“So… you want to stay here with me? Room, board, food… in return, you’ll fix up the cottage?” you clarify.

“I guess.”

You study him. “I’ve heard about pixies and fairies who try to lure people into fairy rings-”

“It’s not like that, I promise.” He meets your gaze. “Look, what if I fix your little shed workshop thing, show you what I can do, and you can decide later?”

You consider it for a moment. “I guess that could work, but first, you’ll need some workboots.”

“If you think that’s best.”

God, he probably does most of his tinkering while fairy-sized and barely wearing clothes… which isn’t something you want to think about.

Setting your tea down, you head to one of the back closets, where you’d stashed away a few of your grandfather’s possessions, the important things, unlike the donation box currently in your truck.

You find Mingyu some shoes, and when you go give them to him, he flashes you a smile and heads outside to get to work. 

Four:

You’re doing your best to focus on painting, but your solarium gives you a perfect view of your grandfather's old work shed, where Mingyu is currently tinkering around. 

He’s fast, and it’s clear he knows what he’s doing.

Your grandfather’s shed has a whole stash of tools, shingles, and wood, and Mingyu has already redone the roof, ripped a few worn boards off to replace them along the sides, and completed general tidying work.

He’s even weed-whacked the tall grass around the workstation, and as lunch turns into evening, he comes back from the woods with a small tree on his shoulder, which he then begins to chop for firewood.

You can definitely see how he’d be helpful to have around… and you can afford to feed him if he’s going to fix up your home. He’s probably already done a couple hundred dollars of work, maybe even a thousand- work that you’d been meaning to hire someone to deal with once you’d settled in a little more. 

You get started on dinner. You’d planned on rice bowls, and it’s easy enough to make a plate for him. Then, you go outside, calling him toward you.

Mingyu’s sweaty, and he’s got some sawdust on his jeans- but God, does he look handsome and chipper.

“I made dinner,” you tell him.

He nods, smiling before following you inside. You note the way he takes off his boots at your door, brushing off his pants, careful not to bring any dirt into your otherwise tidy house.

The two of you sit down to eat, and he’s extremely verbal about how thankful he is for the food, and how good it tastes-

You come up with an avenue of discussion to distract him from his praises. “What would you living here entail?”

He pauses. “I hadn’t thought too hard about it.”

“I feed you, you do work, you live here?”

“Something like that.”

“How long do you keep your human shape?”

Mingyu takes a breath, setting down his spoon. “I’ll be honest with you, whether you see it this way or not, your grandmother saved me. I was wounded, I came to your realm, anything could have gotten me, but your grandma saved me, glued my wing, and kept me safe so I could hibernate and heal. I owe your family. My home isn’t my home anymore, please let me help you make this cottage your home.”

“No, I-” you release the tension in your shoulders, “you can stay, but, seriously, how long do you keep your human shape?”

“Is it a space thing?” Mingyu looks around. “I can be small when I sleep if it’s a space thing-”

“I mean, my grandma has a replica doll house of the cottage that her dad made for her, was going to offer that up for you.” It’s meant to be a joke, but Mingyu takes it completely seriously, nodding diligently. 

“That works, I just have to go collect some moss to make a bed-”

“Are you being for real?” you ask, blinking at him.

“I should probably go back to my normal size when I sleep, it makes sense and takes up less space,” Mingyu nods.

“If you change your mind, I do have a spare bedroom.” 

“Nope,” the man-sized fairy shakes his head, “the doll house works.”

“Well… if you want to go get some moss, I can grab the box of clothes from my truck,” you suggest.

“Let’s do it.” Mingyu is so easy, he just agrees to everything. 

Soon the two of you are reconvening at your front door, you with a box, him with a palm full of moss. “The doll house is in the studio, I was planning to paint it.” Mingyu follows you to the solarium. In the dark of the evening, you have to turn on the fairy lights you’d strung up, and Mingyu lets out a breath.

Even you have to admit the space has ambiance. The solarium studio is a lovely part of the house, your favorite in fact, although, tonight, you’re feeling a little shy about your art strewn about.

“Did you paint all of these?” Mingyu asks, approaching your most recent work.

“Yeah, they’re uh, abstracts,” you explain. “I mean, I gather a lot of inspiration from nature, but it’s more a feeling than a specific thing that I like to paint, if that makes any sense.”

“It does,” Mingyu nods, leaning down to get a better look at your art. 

“My grandma, she uh, she was an artist too, and so was her mother, and she gave me the house because she knew I needed inspiration-”

“Maybe that’s why she gave you me too.”

Your heart lurches in your chest, and you blink up at the tall man. “Uh… maybe.”

“So this cottage has a long line of artists and tinkerers,” Mingyu concludes.

“The line ended in my mother’s generation,” you sigh.

“That’s not true.” Mingyu looks down at you. “We’re here now.”

Five:

You wake up feeling as refreshed and well-rested as ever. It’s odd how much of a difference having a male presence in the house can make, even if he was the size of your palm while you were sleeping. 

You’ve been here over a month, but you’ve not yet gotten used to the seclusion, the feeling of being alone. Mingyu is an unexpected comfort, and you quietly tiptoe to your solarium to see if he’s awake.

The nest of moss in the dollhouse is empty, and you move to your kitchen, getting a kettle started before looking out the window. Mingyu’s lumbering around in the tree line. He’s dressed in a white shirt and blue jeans, and damn does it look good.

You turn on some music, quietly making breakfast for two while trying to fight the urge to watch the beautiful man.

You’d slept in more than normal, another byproduct of feeling safe, and due to that, by the time you’re taking two plates of food outside, the temperature of the late spring air is already warming with the noon sun.

“Mingyu,” you call, finding him by the workshed, “breakfast!”

He bounds over like a puppy, and you set the plates down on a small circular table. The metal lawn set can be a bit rough, and you’ve tried to soften it with comfy pillows. Mingyu doesn’t seem to mind as he plops down, grabbing the bacon sandwich you’d prepared.

“Smells delicious,” he tells you, taking the largest bite of food you’ve ever seen.

You watch him, amused. “Did you get up early?”

“Yeah, I don’t need much sleep. Just spent eighty years sleeping, or so you tell me.” Mingyu smiles at you, a tight-lipped smile to hide the food in his mouth, you’re sure. 

“It’s a nice day,” you sigh, leaning back in your chair and looking at the world around you.

The sun is out, it’s a little cold, but the sky is clear. Dew drops are in the last stages of evaporation, clinging to the green strands of grass along the hillside area that leads down to the pond.

“Every day is a good day for tinkering,” Mingyu agrees. “Which, I meant to ask- is there anything you wanted me to do?” 

“Uh… like what?”

“I’ll finish the shed soon,” Mingyu promises. “I already have ideas about extending it, but, if you wanted me to paint the house, fix anything inside that’s a little wonky and in need of tinkering-”

“I think you should focus on the shed, if you want to extend it, you should.” For some reason, you’re apprehensive about him coming into the house just yet- you need to… acclimatize to his presence, and right now, having a wall of glass between the two of you is keeping your heart from exploding every time you look at him. “Do you uh… do you need anything to build your addition?”

“Your grandfather kept a lot of tools, nails, screws- and we’re surrounded by trees. He had loads of extra shingles, enough for years of repairs to the cottage and the shed.” Mingyu smiles at you. “I think I’ll manage… but, when it comes time to paint it, maybe we could paint it together?”

“Maybe.” You can feel your skin heating at the idea. “Anyways, I wanted to bring you some food, now I’ve gotta go inside my studio and get to work.”

“Sounds good, tinkering calls, thanks for breakfast.” Mingyu pushes the last massive bite of his sandwich into his mouth before standing up.

He nods to you and then you watch him go, sneaking a look at his butt before you tear your eyes away.

This could either be the best idea of your life, or the worst. 

Six:

Mingyu had taken his time with the shed. He’d made it twice the size, and added more windows that your grandfather had left sitting around in the original structure- it’s crazy how much he’s accomplished using only the things that are left over and semi discarded.

Then, Mingyu had taken to restoring the inside. He’d spent two days just moving stuff around, tidying and dusting- and another day just cutting wood to fill up his firewood stash. 

Now, a week after showing up at your door, he’s finally come inside to begin tinkering with old hinges and loose screws. He’s going over every inch of your cottage to make sure it’s up to his fairy standards, and you’re extremely aware of him, especially when he makes it to the solarium to begin to work.

The french doors have been a little off for years, one hinge is a little wonky- and it’s hard to focus on your painting while Mingyu’s standing there and fiddling- or, scratch that, tinkering. 

“Watcha working on?” Mingyu asks, and you suppose he must have caught you staring.

“Oh, uh… it’s a new project, and starting is always the hardest part.”

Mingyu comes around your easel, looking at the new blank canvas you had pulled out just an hour ago.

“Do you have any ideas?” he questions.

“I mean… one or two.”

Mingyu cocks his head at you. “Tell me.”

You release a deep sigh. “I guess… I was wondering if maybe… maybe I could paint your wings sometime, in an abstract sort of way.”

Mingyu is quiet for a few moments, and you immediately try to backpedal, but he stops you. “No, it’s okay, sorry, I was just- I’ve never been someone’s muse before.”

“You haven’t?”

He shakes his head. “In uh… where I come from, my wings aren’t exactly that extraordinary.” 

“Really?” you ask in shock.

“Yeah, they’re just green. I know a lot of fairies with all sorts of colored wings, pinks, purples- every color of the rainbow. Green is… well, it’s bland, it’s like everything else in the forest.”

You can’t believe what you’re hearing. “You seem to forget that I came to the forest for inspiration- the greens here are beautiful. If I remember correctly, your wings are like… sage and stardust.”

“Sage and stardust,” Mingyu repeats, his voice like a whisper. He cracks a smile. “I like that.”

“So you’ll let me paint them?”

“If it would make you happy.”

“It would.”

“Then yes, you can paint by wings.”

Seven:

Mingyu’s continued his daily tinkerings, but now, your evenings are spent in your solarium. You’d found one of your grandmother’s magnifying glasses, the type she used for butterfly wing repair, and Mingyu is the perfect muse, sitting patiently and letting you inspect him.

You’d spent half an hour just trying to get the color of his wings right, and now, you’re doing long brush strokes against the cream canvas. You’d found some glitter too, and while Mingyu spends most of the time sitting on your shoulder while you’re painting, he also offers to douse his hands in sparkles and do the small details for you.

It’s odd, thirsting for this large, beefy man during the day, only for him to downsize and nuzzle into your hair at night- he’s still so cute as a fairy, and his wings are truly beautiful.

“You see me like this?” Mingyu asks, fluttering off your shoulder to gaze at the painting. He’s so small in comparison to the large canvas. “These are really my wings?” 

“They’re beautiful, Gyu,” you tell him, giving him a nickname without a second thought.

“Gyu,” Mingyu repeats, turning to look at you. “I like that.”

You hold out your paint brush, and he flutters over to it, balancing on the wooden handle.

It’s crazy how you’re already getting used to him- to the little things, Mingyu included. 

Eight:

It’s gotten to the point where Mingyu wants to paint the shed, so the two of you decide to head into town together. It’s a small population, and you know that the sight of the two of you is raising a few eyebrows as you enter the paint store.

Mingyu sticks out, not only for his size, but his beauty as well. He truly is stunning, and you notice multiple women staring as the two of you wander around the store.

“So what coloring are you thinking?” Mingyu asks, heading to a wall of paint swatches. 

“I mean… I just sort of figured we’d repaint it to match the house again?” you suggest.

“Well… it’s your house now,” Mingyu points out. “What are your dream colors?”

“My dream colors?”

“Yeah, I promised you I’d help you make it your dream home, didn’t I?” 

Your heart melts as you stare up at this gorgeous man. He has such a soft heart, you can’t believe how much you care for him after only two weeks, how much he clearly cares for you- but you try not to read into it too deeply. 

You turn to look at the paint swatches, truly considering what your dream home would look like.

You choose a pallet, showing it to Mingyu, and he nods. “This will be great.”

The two of you go to get the paint, and soon, you’re back in your truck. You try to play the radio, but it doesn’t drown out your thoughts, so you turn the music down.

“Did you notice how many people were looking at you today?” you ask.

“Hmm?” Mingyu tears his gaze from the trees moving by.

“Girls, a lot were staring.”

“Were you staring?” 

You flash a glimpse at Mingyu and find him grinning at you… is there a mutual attraction here? Does he like you the way you like him?

Things are just so easy. Choosing paint with him for your house, letting him make your house your dream house- it all just feels so domestic, not to mention the fact that you generally don’t like people watching you work on your art, but you feel comfortable with him.

“I, uh… yeah, I look at you, we’re friends.” You cough, forcing your eyes back to the road.

“Close friends,” Mingyu confirms.

You turn the radio back up, and Mingyu looks out at the trees again, but he doesn’t stop smiling, and your heart doesn’t stop racing either.

Nine:

It’s hard to sleep. You can’t help but think about the car ride with Mingyu earlier. 

He has to be attracted to you… right?

He’s been more touchy during your late-night painting sessions, and less afraid to cuddle up in your hair. You’ve noticed him watching you too… often when you look at him, you catch his gaze already on you.

Cohabitation with a man as fine as he is- well, you know where it leads, and you’re a little shocked you’ve gotten this far without breaking first.

You toss and turn in your bed, groaning.

God, when was the last time you were this horny?

Can you… can you touch yourself with him right downstairs? Is that weird? What if he catches you? Mingyu said it himself, he doesn’t sleep much- and… is his hearing better as a fairy? You don’t actually know much about his abilities when he has wings… maybe these are things you should ask.

You let out a sigh, bringing your hand to your breast through your sleeping shirt. In no time at all, your nipple is pebbled against your touch. You release another breath, closing your eyes and thinking about Mingyu. 

You search through your memories, deciding to focus on the thought of him chopping wood. God, in his little tank top, his muscles all bulging and glorious- the way his sweat begins to drip, making the fabric stick to his skin, showing off his abdominal muscles-

You can feel your pussy getting wet, and you begin to glide a hand down between your legs-

You stop, opening your eyes. Fuck, you can’t do this. It feels dirty, sinful- and not in a fun flirty way. 

This isn’t something that you can continue with- you can’t keep feeling this way. You have to tell Mingyu how you feel. If it ruins everything then it ruins everything, but you can’t keep this cohabitation agreement up if you’re falling in love with the man- or, should you say, fairy.

God, maybe you should have never opened Pandora’s Box. It wasn’t a flurry of chaos, not one you could see anyway, but you’re beginning to feel chaotic inside, and coming clean to Mingyu is the only way to get it settled. 

Ten:

When you wake up the next morning, you move slowly. You have a shower, make some tea, and then, after going through an internal script numerous times, you decide to go outside to tell Mingyu how you feel. 

He’s been painting the shed all morning, that much is obvious from how much he’s completed- and to make matters worse for yourself, he’s shirtless.

You almost turn and go right back inside, but instead, you pull up your big girl panties, taking a few deep breaths.

You have to do this, you’ll regret it if you don’t- just as you knew you’d regret it if you hadn’t let Mingyu inside a few weeks ago to hear him out.

“Gyu?” you call.

“Oh, hi!” he waves, and you watch paint splatter everywhere from the brush in his hand. “Oops!” 

God, he’s so- he’s so- he’s a big dork, in the best way possible.

You watch Mingyu wipe his hand across his abdomen, clearing the splatter stain there. “Had to take my shirt off, painting isn’t my strong suit sometimes,” he explains, putting the brush back into the can before he approaches you. “What’s up?”

Suddenly, everything you’d planned to say to him just disappears from your mind.

“Are you thirsty?” you ask, voice cracking.

“Could use some water,” he nods.

“Come inside,” you instruct, tearing your gaze away from Mingyu’s perfect body to lead him back into your cottage.

He follows you like a good boy, taking his boots off on your deck before joining you in the kitchen where you have a cup of water waiting for him. 

Your hand is practically shaking as you give him the cup, and he looks you up and down, an expression of concern appearing on his face. “You alright?”

“Yeah.” You swallow thickly, shaking your head. “Just… a little jittery.”

“Is there something on your mind?” Mingyu questions, taking a sip of his water.

God, he’s still shirtless, and it’s as if he doesn’t even realize it! It’s as if being half naked in your kitchen is the most normal thing in the world to him!

You take a deep breath, doing your best to hype yourself up. “I like you,” you say finally.

“I like you too,” Mingyu grins.

“No, I… I like like you.” 

“Like like?” he repeats, cocking his head to the side in confusion. 

“As in… I think you’re really amazing and good with your hands, and you’re handsome, and I enjoy spending time with you,” you blurt. 

“I think you’re amazing, and good with your hands, and pretty, and I enjoy spending time with you too,” he counters, echoing the entirety of your sentiment. 

You stare blankly up at the man. It’s clear he doesn’t know what you’re getting at. You wonder how fairies court each other- do they even court each other? Do fairies have sex? Or are they just… you don’t know, blossomed out of flower buds or something?

“Mingyu,” you take another very deep breath, stepping closer to him. “I feel for you, in here.” You put your hand over his heart, looking up at him, searching his brown eyes for some form of recognition, of understanding. 

Mingyu’s lips part, and his gaze shifts to your hand, then, he slowly places his own over yours. His palm is warm, and he squeezes you gently. “Are you saying you love me?” he asks.

You blink… it feels like he’s skipping a few steps here. You love him as a friend, and you’re attracted to him, but you’re not… in love with him, not yet anyway. 

“I-” You swallow thickly and decide to just be honest. “I think… things could be heading that way, with some more time.”

“More time?” Mingyu frowns a little. “Humans can be weird.”

“We can?” you laugh. “What’s love like for you?”

“Fairies don’t do anything halfway. We feel intensely, more so than humans I think.”

“Have you…” you cough. “Have you ever been in love before?”

“No.”

“So… how do you know what you’re feeling right now is love?”

“I know it because I would do anything for you. Just being near you makes me happy. I want to protect you, and provide for you- I’d give up my wings for you. I choose you over any of my own kind, because you understand me and accept me better than my own kind. I don’t need anyone else but you.” 

You don’t know what to say, so you choose not to say anything. Instead, you get on your tiptoes, pressing your lips to his own.

Mingyu freezes for a moment, but then he reciprocates, wrapping his arms around your body to pull you tight to his chest. 

It’s a slow kiss, an exploratory one. It’s soft and gentle and every good thing, but you get the sense you’re going to have to lead the build-up of this. After a few kisses, you lick at his lower lip, and Mingyu responds by opening his mouth, allowing you to deepen the experience. 

His hands grab your hips, and Mingyu pushes you backward until your bum hits the counter, then he lifts you onto it, prompting you to wrap your legs around his hips. 

As you kiss him, there’s a small voice in the back of your mind reminding you that this is a fairy. His original form is small… but as he grinds against you, you realize that what’s inside his pants right now is anything but tiny. 

God, he feels so good- and he’s already shirtless, which gives you the perfect opportunity to graze your hands along his body, teasing the muscle you find there. Mingyu shivers from the contact, breaking the kiss.

He presses his forehead against yours, breathing deeply, and you can feel his heart racing under your palm. 

“Do you want to do this? Even though you don’t love me the way I love you?” He asks.

“I want this, and I do love you Mingyu, I just…”

“You need more time,” he sighs.

“I think… do you remember how you said eighty years felt fast in the box for you? I feel like, you just move faster than I do, and that’s not a bad thing, it’s just… something we have to adjust for.”

“Adjust how?” Mingyu questions, looking down at you as his hands grip your hips harder.

You shrug. “Maybe you’ll just have to be patient with me.”

“Do I have to wait to say ‘I love you’ since you’re waiting?”

You smile up at him. “You can do anything that feels right, Mingyu.”

“This feels right,” Mingyu muses, pulling you closer to the edge of the table so he can grind his denim-clad cock against your core.

“Then do this,” you whisper, cupping his cheek and drawing his lips back to yours. 

Mingyu doesn’t fight it, in fact, he melts into the kiss, and then, his hands are grabbing your thighs and he’s lifting you up.

You grip his strong shoulders, releasing a small squeal of shock- but you refuse to break the kiss as he begins to carry you through your cottage. He knows where your bedroom is, and it’s sweet that he wants your first time to be on an actual mattress- you’d half expected him to bend you over in your kitchen and have his way with you right there, but you suppose that’s not really his style.

You still have so much more to learn about Mingyu, and you’re excited to take your time learning it. 

Mingyu lays you down gently on your bed, and his lips move to your throat. His hands find yours, and your fingers intertwine as he sucks on your sweet spot, making you moan and writhe against the bed beneath him. 

“Fuck,” you groan, brows furrowing from the pleasure already coursing through you. 

Mingyu grins against your throat, and then he begins to descend.

You’re wearing a sleeping shirt and boxers, and Mingyu’s hand is sneaking up the oversized fabric. “Can I take this off you?” he asks, pulling away and swallowing thickly, his gaze fixed on your covered chest.

You nod, but instead of forcing him to do it, you push on your wrist confines, prompting Mingyu to let you go so you can sit up, tearing the shirt off. You’re not wearing a bra, and Mingyu’s pupils blow at the sight.

He leans down, pressing his lips to yours again as he helps you back down to the bed. You relax against the duvet, enjoying the sensation of your bare chests rubbing against each other. Your nipples are pebbled from interest, and each brush of him against you feels like magic, especially when he begins to swivel his hips, grinding down against your pussy.

His mouth begins to move down again, and this time, there’s no fabric to stop him in his tracks. Mingyu’s lips wrap around your nipple, your fingers threading through his hair as you fight the urge to arch your back and moan like a whore in heat.

“Feels good,” you tell him, earning a groan from the large man who sucks on your pebbled bud even harder.

His free hand is on your hip, but soon, it’s rising to massage your neglected breast. His warm palm feels so good- your eyes close in pleasure, your body reacting to Mingyu and the foreplay he’s providing.

You thread your fingers deeper into his curls, gently massaging his scalp while he works you up, teasing you in the best possible way.

He’s clearly solely focused on you, you don’t think there’s an ulterior motive, a motive of getting you to beg or forcing you to wait, you think he’s simply enjoying you, and you love the feeling of being enjoyed in this way.

Even so- now it’s your patience that’s running thin, and you tug at his curls, forcing his mouth away from your breast. He looks up at you with confusion, lips parting in a silent question.

“I need you,” you tell him, swallowing thickly. 

“You have me,” he assures you with a laugh. 

“I mean-”

His hand slips between your thighs, rubbing your pussy through your boxers. “You mean, you need me here,” Mingyu finishes for you.

Fuck, he’s so hot- part of you had expected him to be a virgin fairy who’s never been in love, but it’s clear from his dirty talk that he’s no virgin. 

Your pussy is wet, and you can feel a wet spot to match in your shorts, you’re sure Mingyu can feel it too.

“Since…” Mingyu takes a breath, and you can see his skin beginning to flush a pretty shade of pink, “since I’m the one who likes you more, maybe you’ll let me take my time and do what I want to do? Out of… pity?”

You laugh. “Pity? I don’t pity you- I kind of love you, Gyu, I said that-”

“Just kind of, though,” he points out, leaning down to bite your nipple gently.

You groan, arching your back and taking a deep breath. “Fine. Do whatever you want to me. Take your time. Worship me. Make me fall in love with you.”

Mingyu smiles, and then he whispers a soft, “Thank you,” before diving back toward your chest.

It’s clear that now that you’ve given him permission, he’s in no rush.

He worships your breasts, just like you’d told him to, taking all the time he wants to massage and lick and kiss and bite- and then, one of his hands returns between your legs, pushing your boxers to the side so he can access your dripping pussy.

He’s gentle at first, circling your sensitive clit and teasing your slit up and down. Then, after too much teasing for your tastes, he eases his finger into your tight hole. He’s gentle as he begins to finger fuck you, working you open at a snail's pace-

You think, as someone who time moves fast for, he really must be savoring every long moment of this. He wants to take his time with you, and for a fairy, that means something.

Mingyu’s lips are still wrapped around your nipple, and as he adds a second digit to your core, you think you might just combust.

“Gyu,” you whimper.

He hums in response.

“I’m close,” you tell him, beginning to wiggle your hips against his hand. “I’m so close-”

Mingyu’s palm finds your clit, and he finger fucks you harder, crooking his digits to reach a spot that has your toes curling.

“Oh my god-” you groan, closing your eyes and latching onto Mingyu’s hair as an anchor, keeping his face buried in your tits as he works you closer and closer to the edge-

One graze of his teeth across your nipple has you cumming on his fingers, and Mingyu releases his own sound of pleasure to echo the whimpers escaping your lips.

He’s got you pinned to the bed, there’s nowhere to go, nothing to do except take what he’s giving you.

He works you through your high, allowing you to feel every lick of pleasure as it courses through your entire body-

You’re a gasping mess at the end of it, and Mingyu gingerly removes his fingers from your pussy, pulling away from your chest to sit up on his knees, licking his digits clean as he inspects you carefully.

“Are you okay, my star?” 

You shiver at the nickname, a whispered echo of your pleasure running through you.

“Yeah,” you nod, still trying to catch your breath.

“Was that good for you?” he asks, teasing his wet finger across your nipple and making you shiver again. “It was good for me.”

“It was so good,” you groan, shifting against the bed.

“Good.” Mingyu hooks his fingers in your boxers, tearing them down your legs. 

You’re now completely bare for him, and you expect Mingyu to work on his jeans next, but he doesn’t. He lays down between your thighs, looking up at you as he peppers your skin with chaste kisses.

“Ready for more?” he questions.

You groan, and the groan turns into a laugh. “I guess I told you to do whatever you want to me,” you sigh, adjusting your legs so your feet are flat and your knees are bent, giving him better access to your pussy for what you know is about to come next. 

“You did.” Mingyu’s breath is hot against your still pulsing core, and you grab at the duvet in preparation, knowing he’s about to completely rock your world for a second time. 

Mingyu doesn’t say anything else, he continues to kiss up your thigh, and he doesn’t stop. When he reaches your core, he licks your clit gently, circling it.

You open your eyes, looking down at him to find his own lids are closed. He’s completely focused on pleasuring you, and as he pushes his tongue into your core, lapping at your slit- well, fuck, no thoughts are going through your mind.

You can only whimper, grabbing the duvet tighter, your toes curling deliciously as this man eats you out in a way that no man ever has.

He really is taking his time. It’s clear this isn’t just a duty or a ‘task’ he has to complete in order to fuck you, no, eating you out is as much his pleasure as it is yours, and somehow, that knowledge makes it even better.

You give yourself to the pleasure. There’s no anxiety, no racing thoughts, or pressures you’re imposing on yourself.

You know there’s not a time limit. Mingyu’s not eager to make you cum so he can fuck you, he’s simply enjoying the act of licking your pussy- so you simply enjoy it too.

You’re not keeping track of time, your focus is solely on the pleasure running through you, and the way it’s building.

Soon, you’re at the edge again, and you warn Mingyu, your thighs twitching around his head.

Mingyu groans in response, lips wrapping around your clit. A squeal escapes you, your chest heaving, back arching off the bed as your second orgasm slams into you.

This one is even more electric than the first, and it almost feels like you’re floating off the mattress- like you’re truly ascending to cloud nine, as if you - like Mingyu - have wings.

God, there’s not a feeling like it in the world, especially as Mingyu continues to suck your clit, working you through the most intense high of your entire life. Your legs are fully quaking around him now, your grip like a vice on the duvet.

Thank God you live in the middle of nowhere because you’re aware that you’re being loud. 

Mingyu’s groaning too, his fingers digging into your thighs, keeping you pinned and in place for him to eat you through the pussy contracting pleasure convulsions that are threatening to overtake your entire body in an ecstasy you’ve never, ever experienced before. 

The large man finally lets up, and you gasp, flopping back down against the bed. There are aftershocks of pleasure, and you jolt a little, goosebumps erupting on your flesh from the sensation. 

You feel the bed shift, and you look from under heavy lids to see Mingyu standing at the foot of the mattress, finally taking off his jeans.

Fuck, he’s huge- maybe foreplay wasn’t so much of a want, as a necessity. 

“You still want me?” Mingyu asks, joining you on the bed again, his breath hot against your throat as he grinds down against you, teasing his cock against your dripping pussy.

“Fuck, I need you,” you tell him.

Mingyu kisses you then, grabbing your hands and putting them above your head. He collects your wrists in one grip, and with his free hand, he grabs his cock, lining it up with your core.

“If it hurts-”

“You’ve made me cum twice,” you tell him, “I’m pretty sure I’ll be okay.”

“Whatever you say, my star,” he grins, pressing his lips to yours as he pushes the head of his cock into your tight, wet hole.

You groan desperately, struggling against his grip on your wrists, but Mingyu doesn’t let up. In fact, he tightens his hold on you, pushing his cock even deeper into your core.

The sounds you’re making are feral as he kisses you, his lips and tongue are hot against your own in the most delicious way.

You can feel your pussy stretching to accommodate for his girth, and when his hips are finally flush against your own, you think this might just be the most full you’ve ever felt in your entire life.

Mingyu breaks the kiss, panting and looking down at you. “You feel perfect,” he whispers.

“You feel perfect,” you counter, feeling a little dim with your repetition of his own works back to him, but also too fucked out to think of anything better. 

He only grins, drawing his lips to yours. It’s a gentler kiss as he begins to fuck you, his motions slow so you can acclimatize to the massive cock that’s already rearranging your guts. 

You get lost in him, and there’s a kind of safety in having your hands pinned down above your head. You can’t quite explain it- maybe it’s just a size kink? You can’t have a bondage kink, can you? Does Mingyu even know what bondage is? Do fairies watch porn?

You push the thoughts from your head, focusing on the cock that’s dragging against your sensitive inner walls.

Soon, you’re moaning loudly again, and Mingyu finally lets up on your wrists. “I kind of…” he swallows thickly, thrusts faltering, “I kind of want you to ride me when you cum.”

“You do?”

“I’ve… well, I know I’ve been a little rough-”

“You haven’t been rough,” you assure him.

“I just mean, the first two times you came, I did what I wanted, and I want you to be in control for this last one, don’t want to overstimulate you.” 

It’s a soft idea, and you nod up at him. “I’ll ride you.”

“Good.” Mingyu kisses you gently, and then the two of you are adjusting.

He lays flat as you swing your leg over his hip, grabbing his cock to line it up with your core so you can slowly sink down on him.

Mingyu groans, his hands settling on your hips to help you be gentle as you come to a fully seated position on his cock.

“You look so perfect like this, my star,” he tells you, one free hand moving up to grab your breast, massaging it gently and pinching at your nipple.

“Think you can cum with me, Gyu?” you ask, beginning to bounce.

You watch Mingyu’s lips part in concentration, his gaze fixed on your chest. He’s clearly in a daze, and it’s adorable. “I’ll cum with you,” he whispers. “You’re so beautiful.”

“You’re quite handsome yourself,” you smile.

Mingyu’s ears turn pink first, and it’s so endearing to watch the massive man flush from a compliment as you’re riding his cock.

God, he is a perfect man, isn’t he?

“I think… I think I was made to be found by you,” Mingyu says, looking up at you with eyes full of adoration. “I don’t know what I’d do If I never met you.”

“Gyu,” you coo, slowing your thrusts. Mingyu sits up, allowing you to pull him to your chest, cradling him to your breast as your fingers stroke through his hair. 

“I do love you,” he continues. “And… it’s okay if you don’t love me the same way yet. I know it’s fast, even for me, but… yeah.”

“It’s fast, but that’s okay. You don’t have to hide yourself from me,” you tell him, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head.

“You don’t have to hide from me either,” Mingyu promises.

He lays back down flat, and you move with him, your chests pressed together as you ride his cock, groaning into his ear.

Mingyu’s hands are warm on your hips, and he steadies you, beginning to thrust up to meet your movements.

You both release sounds of pleasure, and you can feel your hearts racing together in your chests as they remain pressed to each other.

You’re tired, but you’re also eager to cum again, so you push through, closing your eyes and focusing on the pleasure instead of the increasing burn in your thighs.

“Are you close?” Mingyu pants in your ear. “I’m close.”

His sounds are like magic, and they help drag you to join Mingyu on the edge. “I’m close,” you confirm, swallowing thickly.

“Can we cum together?”

“Yeah,” you whimper, muscles clenching in preparation. 

Mingyu fucks up into you even harder, and you put all of your energy into carrying this out, into riding this man until you pass out from how good everything is about to feel.

He releases another grunt, and you press your lips to his own, which is all it takes for you to both fall over the edge together.

You feel like you’re flying again, it’s almost an out-of-body pleasure-fueled experience, but this time, Mingyu’s with you, and you know you’ll be safe with the man who knows how to navigate the skies.

He cradles you to his chest, keeping his cock buried as deep as it can go in your core. You’re both kissing each other desperately, shaking and contracting from orgasms that continue to surge through you. Your hearts are racing together, and you’re both trying to catch your breaths even in the midst of a passionate kiss.

Everything just feels so right, and natural.

It’s as if your body was made to do this, with Mingyu especially.

Soon, your orgasms are subsiding, and you’re simply kissing now. 

Mingyu holds you close, not letting you go until he’s good and satisfied.

You take a deep breath, breaking the kiss to look down at him. “So…”

“So,” he grins.

“So… I guess this changes our arrangement a little?”

Mingyu laughs, holding you tighter. “Does this mean I don’t have to sleep in the dollhouse anymore?”

You find yourself chuckling too, and the contraction it causes of your pussy around Mingyu’s cock makes him groan desperately, his hand pushing on the small of your back. 

“You don’t have to sleep in the dollhouse.”

“I meant it when I said I’d give up my wings for you,” Mingyu muses, turning serious as he looks up at you.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“The future-”

“Is something we can talk about later,” you assure him. “Right now, I just want to enjoy you.”

“I guess… I guess we can do that,” Mingyu concedes. His arms wrap tighter around you, securing you down against his chest. He tucks you under his chin, releasing a deep breath, and that’s where you fall asleep, completely content with your blue-collared, human-sized, fairy lover.

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! we all need a domestic blue collar man who's obsessed with us and wants to build our dream house for us ✨MANIFESTING IT💅

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🔮 preview. “I’m happy where I am… but, when you cum, I’ll let you warm up while I fuck you stupid.” Mingyu never used to swear. He used to call sex ‘making love’ and something about it had made you uncomfortable in some weird way- so your soft lover has taken to using profanity for your own benefit, and you can’t help the way your body reacts to the term ‘fuck you stupid.’

cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, size kink, worship, Mingyu is a boobs guy, nipple play, fingering, pussy stretching, foreplay, multiple reader orgasms, hand job, shower sex, praise, dirty talk, etc… I pet names: (hers) my star. (his) Gyu. 

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.7k I teaser wc. 175

🌙 starring. Mingyu x afab!Reader

bonus

It’s summer, and you’re more in love than ever. Mingyu’s made you rethink what it is to live in your cottage. He’s done everything in his power to make it your dream home, and his latest upgrade is a small rowboat that he’d handcrafted with the purpose of meandering around your pond.

You can’t stop smiling and giggling as Mingyu rows you around, the sunlight kissing his skin in the most beautiful way. He’s so gorgeous, and his soul is just as stunning.

Every day is a dream with him… but there are still things on your mind, things you need to discuss. 

“Mingyu?” you ask, drawing his attention away from his haphazard rowing.

“Yes, my star?” he pauses to look at you, setting down the oars to give you his complete, and undivided attention.

“I’m just… I’m thinking.”

“That’s not always the best sign,” Mingyu teases. “Thinking about what?”

“Just… we’ve been together a while now, and, I guess I’m starting to look at the future more, and I’m not really sure how to envision it.” 

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[miniseokminnies]

the subtle art of stirring the pot —- l.sm

⭑.ᐟ pairing: lee seokmin x fem!reader ⭑.ᐟ theme: coworkers to lovers, annoyances to lovers, sous chef!seokmin ⭑.ᐟ w/c: 9k ⭑.ᐟ warnings: 18+ MDNI, mentions of food, stressful work environment, insults, jealousy, switch!seokmin, switch!reader, semi public make outs, protected sex (that's a yes yes), marking, fingering, multiple orgasms, slight angst, miscommunications ⭑.ᐟ a/n: written as part of the Lonely Hearts Café collab put on by @camandemstudios - make sure to check out the full collab masterlist here send over some love! (haha get it) thanks a million to my lovely beta readers: @tomodachiii and @lovetaroandtaemin and a special shoutout to @seungkw1 for betaing and overall keeping me sane

Ring ring ring

The chaos of a kitchen is only aided by the sound of orders being put in.  Saturdays are statistically the busiest days of the week, and being a restaurant in New York City, Quartz and Serenity is no exception.  You had been frantically chopping carrots for the better part of an hour.  

“Y/N!” The head chef called out to you, “Go get more mushrooms, chicken, and sherry for me please.”  Without another word you jogged toward the walk in refrigerator to retrieve the ingredients.  The last few years you’ve spent in this kitchen has allowed you to map it all out to a science, which in a way it was.  You felt like a part of this well oiled machine and you handled the pressure with ease.  

You piled the ingredients in your arms and pushed out of the walk in.  You began to unpack the items on the counter next to the chef.  He instructed you to take them out of their packages and begin chopping them for him.  While the dinner service ran smoothly, there was an air of stress that always comes with being short staffed. You always pulled it off though, and tonight was no different.    

The moment you crossed from the hallway into your apartment, you dropped your bag to the floor and kicked off your shoes. You smelled like grease and sweat.  The apartment was bathed in the yellow light above your stove you left on this morning.  There were dishes in the sink and cook books stacked up around the kitchen.  

Sighing, you dragged yourself to the bathroom.  You dropped your chef’s coat into the laundry pile and waited for the water to get warm.  Once hot, the water ran over you, loosening your tight muscles.  You stood in the stall staring at the wall for several minutes, mind wandering to what ingredients you had in your refrigerator and whether or not you should just order something.  

The water sputtered and threatened to turn cold all too quickly.  You rushed through your routine, savoring the last few drops of warm water.  It went straight from warm to ice cold in seconds as you were rinsing your conditioner out of your hair.  

Clad in pajamas, you stared into the boiling water on the stove.  You dumped probably too much pasta into the water and turned to the other burner.  You mixed together ingredients in a pan over the fire to make a sauce. This was a typical meal for you after manning the kitchen at Quartz and Serenity because it was easy and not on the menu.  

No matter how much you enjoyed cooking, you always tended to get tired of the food that you worked around all day.  Customer complaints and repetitive pressure did that to you.  You wouldn’t change a thing though, this is what you loved.  

“Everyone!” You heard the booming voice of the head chef call through the kitchen, “I have someone to introduce you to!” The staff and yourself meandered to the center of the kitchen where Chef Choi was standing with a man you didn’t recognize.  He was around your age, maybe a bit older.  His features were so striking, you almost missed the chef’s coat he was wearing.   

“This is Chef Lee,” your boss smiled, clapping the man on the back, “He is our new sous chef!” You didn’t hear anything he said after that, you felt like the walls were closing in on you.  You could feel eyes on you but you stared straight ahead.  You could feel your jaw tighten as you bored a hole into Chef Lee’s stupid head with your eyes.  

Once you were dismissed back to your stations to prepare for dinner service you saw him hovering near your station out of the corner of your eye.  

“Can I help you?” 

“Oh!” He smiled sheepishly.  “I just wanted to introduce myself to everyone individually! You can call me Seokmin.” “Okay, can I get back to what I need to do, Chef Lee?” You looked back to your knife.  

“Uh, sure…what is your name first?”

“Y/N.” You gestured to the nametag pinned to your coat.  He nodded and wandered away towards the wait staff.  You rolled your eyes.  

Throughout the night you were tasked with showing your new coworker the way things run at Quartz and Serenity and much to your displeasure, he was very excited to be there.  Every so often he gave you room to breathe by floating around the kitchen, observing everything.  However, everytime he returned to your side you thought you might punch him.  

Somehow you made it through the dinner service.  It wasn’t your turn to clean up the kitchen tonight so you bolted to the bus station as fast as possible.  You didn’t say goodbye to anyone, knowing that you might get sucked into doing something with your coworkers.  

Once on the bus you check your class schedule on your phone, only to realize with horror that you have a test tomorrow.  Your stomach turned with the dread of having to be up all night studying, again.  

—-

“Need any help with anything?” Seokmin’s sickly sweet voice offered at your side.  

“No.” You were already on edge today, you made it through your test by the skin of your teeth and your professor made that abundantly clear.  You had no time, or patience, for him right now.  

“I saw you prep yesterday, I could do part of that for you,” he pushed.  

“No thank you, Chef Lee.” You asserted through gritted teeth.  “I would ask Chef Choi if I were you.” He slinked away like a kicked puppy while you continued chopping vegetables.  It’s not your fault that he is completely out of his element and didn’t know what he was doing.  

However, when orders came pouring in you noticed that his confidence seemed to double from last night.  He was able to keep up with different elements, even without knowing the recipes very well yet.  

The kitchen was louder than it had been in months, the new addition to your team taking it upon himself to fill the room with music, from his own mouth, to your dismay.  You weren’t sure how much of his relentless optimism you could take, especially today.  He floated around the kitchen with a carelessness that you would never be able to comprehend.  

To your horror, at the end of the night Chef Choi announced that tonight was the most efficient night the restaurant has had in several weeks.  

“You’re singing.” You deadpanned without looking up from the vegetables on your cutting board.  

“Y/NNNNN” Seokmin mused, “How was your dayyy?”

“Don’t ask me how I’ve been.” You forced your knife through a carrot, “Just do your job, and stop singing.” There were exactly three seconds of silence before Seokmin moved from singing to humming.  You slammed your knife down onto the cutting board.  “I’m taking a five!” You huffed and turned toward the walk-in. Seokmin stopped humming.  

The tears started as soon as the door closed behind you. Your back slid down the wall, the coldness biting through your clothes.  It was stupid to cry, but you couldn’t help it; he was so infuriating.  You had no idea what Chef Choi saw in him.  The tears sliding down your cheeks smudged the swipe of mascara you put on this morning? Yesterday? Couldn’t have been more than two days ago…

The door opened. 

“So, what’s up?” Seokmin asked softly, leaning against the wall next to you.

“Oh my god!” You cried, “Can’t you leave me alone for a single second?”        

“I did,” he blinked at you, “If I had it my way, I would’ve followed right away.”

“I’m in here because of you!” Your voice cracked, a new bout of tears threatening to spill, “I would have loved it if you didn’t come in at all!” 

“Well….technically, I’m…kind of your boss.”

“God, ew, no not really,” you scrunched your face in a look of disgust, “Chef Choi is our boss.” 

“Y/N, what did I ever do to you?”

“The kitchen ran smoothly without you!” You informed him, “Everything was fine without you!” 

“Now wait a minute,” there was an edge to his voice that you had never heard before, “I have never messed anything up.” 

“Well–” 

“No,” he cut you off, “Seriously, you may not like how I operate, that’s fine, but you aren’t going to sit here and tell me that I’m a problem in this kitchen.”  His words were firm but it was hard to miss the tears swelling in his eyes. 

“This is serious to me.” You hardened your gaze.  

“And it isn’t to me?”   

“Doesn’t seem like it.” 

“God,” He sighed.  “Y/N, maybe this can be a lesson for you.  No one is ever going to do things exactly as you expect them to.  That doesn’t mean they’re wrong.” He stood up to leave.

“You can’t just walk away after you talked down to me!” You shot to your feet. “You think I’m some dumb kid!” He turned to look at you, you chose to ignore the glimmer of a tear on his cheek. “I’m at the top of my class! I know what I’m doing!” 

“What are you trying to prove?” His voice rose now too, “I never said you didn’t know what you were doing! Do you want me to?” You blinked at him.  “You couldn’t even julienne the carrots today! Why? All because I was singing?”  He wiped the tear away from his skin angrily.  He moved toward you and crowded you against the wall.  The proximity forced you to look up at him, his face was stone.  “What’s your problem with me, Y/N?” He whispered, looking down his nose at you.  The cold of the refrigerator made the warm breath fanning across your cheeks even harder to ignore.

“We have a kitchen to get back to…” You tried to avoid looking at his lips.   

“You don’t think I’m serious about this,” he planted his hand on the wall next to your head, “So does it matter if I get back to that kitchen?” 

“You said I didn’t know what I’m doing! So I guess the kitchen doesn’t need either of us at this point!” You jutted your chin up defiantly.  He chuckled sarcastically.  

“You’re being so ridiculous right now, are you like this with every new hire?”   

“No, only the ones I find irritating,” and incredibly attractive, your thoughts wandered.  Rookie mistake, your eyes flit to his lips before you had time to think.  When your eyes returned to his he was looking at you, absolutely bewildered.  Then, in one swift motion he smashed his lips to yours.  The way he kissed you was just as angry as the way he was talking to you moments ago; his lips moved with a fervor that was almost malicious.  

Your fingers found the front of his chef’s coat, you attempted to pull him closer.  He whined into your mouth at the feeling of being wanted.  The sound awakened something in you and heat settled in your stomach.  You shifted your weight trying to ignore it.  Seokmin nudged you with his knee until you parted your legs slightly for him to slot his thigh between.  He was firm and muscular pressed against your core and it took everything in you to not rock against it.  

With a jolt you remembered where you were and who you were with.  You pushed against his chest until he moved away from you.  Eyes wide and cheeks flushed, Seokmin seemed as though he realized the same thing.  

“Come out when you're ready,” he nodded and left the walk-in without looking back.  You tightened your ponytail and took a deep breath before following him out.  You returned to your station and picked up the knife you abandoned before the ordeal.  “Thin as matchsticks, Y/N.” Seokmin reminded you through kiss-bruised lips.   

“Table 13 sends its compliments to the chef!” Soonyoung comes barreling into the kitchen carrying plates to deposit into the wash.  

“That was the last table right?” Seokmin breathed a sigh of relief.  

“Yup!” Soonyoung popped the “P” and punctuated the exclamation by dumping the dishes he was carrying into the sink.  You had the day off and Seokmin felt the pressure of your absence throughout the entire day.  

The encounter he had with you was heavy on his mind all day, the first day he’s spent in this kitchen without you by his side.  He still couldn’t figure out what it was that he could have possibly done to you in the short time you’ve worked together.  

“Hey Soonyoung?” He called without thinking.  Soonyoung turned to him with a questioning look on his face.  “You’ve been here a while right?” “Yeah, why?” Soonyoung reached around Seokmin and grabbed at the carrots, earning him a slap on the hand.  He winced and pulled his hand to his chest.  

“Can you think of any reason Y/N would dislike me?” 

“Hm? Y/N?” Soonyoung mumbled, “Oh! The scary one.  Yeah I try not to talk to her much.” 

“Because she scares you?” “Because she scares me.” Soonyoung nodded.  

“She wanted your job.” One of the waitresses, Jeongyeon, asserted from the doorway.  Seokmin switched his attention to her, almost begging her to clarify.  She sighed and adjusted her bag on her shoulder.  “She’s about to graduate, the position was vacant for so long that she was under the impression that Chef Choi had decided to hold it for her.” Seokmin moved across the kitchen to beg her to tell him everything.  

“Why would she assume that?” He pleaded.  

“You have no idea how long your position was vacant, do you?” She turned to leave, “She was acting as unofficial sous chef for almost a year.  In her opinion there’s no reason she shouldn’t have your job by now, diploma or not.”  He looked down at the floor. "Oh, and stop looking at her with those puppy dog eyes, she'll chop your fingers off."

Eventually, Seokmin dragged himself home.  His apartment felt too big, too empty.  He wished he could stop thinking about you, if he was honest.  He stared into his pantry and quickly decided he had no desire to actually cook.  He popped an instant ramen into the microwave and went to go change his clothes.  

The microwave was beeping four minutes later, he pulled the cup out and narrowly avoided burning his hand on the outside.  He set the ramen on the counter and dug through the refrigerator in search of something to drink.  There was not a lot to be found, besides a full pack of wine coolers he bought weeks ago in hopes he could invite some people from work over to celebrate working together, clearly that never happened.  

About two hours later, Seokmin was crying to the credits of Dear Evan Hansen with five empty wine coolers on his coffee table and a sixth to his lips.  Whether he was crying over the movie or something else entirely, he wasn’t sure.  

He still couldn’t stop his mind from wandering to you, he had new information to mull over, but he still couldn’t understand why you hated him.  He would’ve talked it over with you if you just came to him with the issue instead of giving him the silent treatment.  Even worse, he couldn’t stop thinking about the feeling of your lips on his.  

Your lips and the warmth of your body against his had been running through his mind since it happened.  He continued to sip from the bottle as he thought about you.  He admired you in a way, so headstrong and willing to go after what you wanted, even if that got him yelled at.  He didn’t really care, he realized you were pretty even when you were insulting him.  

Soon the bottle was empty and Seokmin’s eyes were closed thinking about your mouth.  He knew he would never live it down if you knew, but that didn’t stop him from delivering the soft initial touches over his shorts.  Eventually pulling them down, letting his semi hard cock spring free, and pumping himself until he was stiff.  

His voice surprised him, sounding foreign to his ears, whispering your name to his empty apartment. Everything became muffled as he heard the blood rushing in his ears, he felt his own hips sputter and he picked up his pace, fucking up into his hand.  He thought about the pretty way you said his name with an edge to your voice and he was quickly undone.       

You pushed the french fries around in the basket, the parchment paper soaking up the grease they left behind.  You barely got three bites into your burger before you felt sick again and resorted to just pretending to eat.  Maybe an entire bottle of wine to yourself last night and sleeping until 1 pm was not your best idea, but desperate times call for desperate measures.  

You checked the time, you have to be at work in a little over an hour, and you knew you had to eat something for your stomach to stop swirling.  You sighed and picked up the burger again, and took a bite.  Your body tried to protest but eventually you felt your stomach calming, thankful to have food.  You laid your head back onto the back of the booth and closed your eyes for a moment, taking deep breaths.  

“Rough night?” You cracked an eye open to see Seokmin standing over you, a basket matching yours in hand.  “Me too,” he lifted his basket in a gesture of comradery.  “May I sit?” You nodded, not having the energy to argue with him over it.  You sat up and studied his face briefly.  He had bags under his eyes like you, his hair was more askew than normal, and he was wearing the biggest hoodie you had ever seen.  

“What got you so hung up?” You asked, selecting another fry from your basket.  

“Oh,” he didn’t look at you, “I just have a lot on my mind, you?”

“You.” His eyes snapped to you, clearly surprised by your boldness.  

“What?” He sputtered around a mouthful of his burger.  

“I’m sure this isn’t the first time you’ve annoyed someone to the point of drowning in alcohol.” 

“I mean, maybe,” he dropped the burger into the basket, “but no one has ever been so bold as to tell me outright…” 

“Are you pouting right now?” Seokmin crossed his arms over his chest at your words, once again refusing to look at you.  “See!” You scoff, “this is what I mean, you get everything you want and when someone calls you out on your bullshit you can’t handle it!” You pushed your food away from you with a huff.  

“I get everything I want?” He raised an eyebrow at you.  “You know I graduated from culinary school, just like you’re about to?” He leaned his elbows on the table, getting closer to you.  “I worked hard to get where I am, and I was hired because I come highly complimented from previous bosses.” 

“What is this? Your resume?” 

“Let me show you, come to dinner with me on Thursday, we both have the day off” 

“So you can brag?”

“No,” he cracked a smile. “So we can get to know each other better, and maybe put this behind us.”

You stared up at the facade of the restaurant.  This building had been your dream for years, since you moved to the city.  Now, because of Seokmin, you were able to dine here? It almost doesn't seem fair. 

“Hey!” Seokmin’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts. “Sorry I’m late; I hope you weren’t waiting long!” You turned to him and shook your head.  “Oh good, shall we?” He ushered you inside, lightly touching the small of your back.  You tried to ignore the feeling in your stomach at the small gesture.   

Once inside, he let his hand drop but stayed close to you.  He leaned around you to speak to the man at the host stand.  “Table for two, the name Lee should be on your list?” The man flipped through a few sheets of paper before stopping to read through a short list of names. Seokmin’s hand returned to your back, pushing you to follow the man through the restaurant.  

The decor was almost enough to distract you from the warmth of Seokmin spreading through your body as he pressed his hand against you more firmly.  The ornate light fixtures bathed the room in a soft light, making everything feel more dreamlike and romantic.  

Seokmin pulled out your chair for you as the host was informing the two of you that a waiter would be with you soon.  As Seokmin took his seat, you had a moment to take him in.  You had never seen him wearing anything besides his chef’s coat.  He had the sleeves of his collared shirt rolled up, showing off his watch and his toned arms.  

“See anything you like?” 

“What?” Your eyes widened, and a blush creeped up your cheeks.  He pushes a menu towards you.  

“Anything?” He smiles, choosing not to bring attention to your obvious staring.  You shoved your face into the menu and began to study it intently.   After a few minutes of silence the waiter provided glasses of water and a promise to return in a few minutes to take your orders.  You laid your menu flat on the table and looked up at Seokmin.  

“What do you like?” You asked sheepishly.  He chuckled to himself and set his menu down.  

“Well,” he pointed at the wine selection, “I was going to order us wine. Do you like white or red?” 

“White, usually,” 

“Okay, so,” he looked at you over his glasses, “you know enough about wine pairings to know what dishes a white wine rules out.” You nodded. “They have a lovely creamy pumpkin penne dish that pairs nicely with chardonnay, and we could share a brie sampler for an appetizer?”  

“Honestly, that sounds wonderful,” you smile at him. You let him order everything for the two of you.  He lets the silence linger for a few minutes while you wait for your wine.  Once the glasses are poured, and he’s confident no one will bother you for a while, he breaks the silence he crafted.  

“You’re much more shy outside of the kitchen,” he observed.  

“I’m out of my depth,” you admitted quietly.  He raised an eyebrow and took a sip of his wine, inviting you to go on.  “I’ve been waiting to eat here since I moved to New York, and you just happen to have your name permanently on the list?”  

“I know the chef,” he muttered into his wine.  

“I know how highly qualified you are,” you informed him, “you’re experienced out of the ears and I’m just some kid in culinary school.” 

“Well,” he tipped his glass forward to clink it with yours, “you can legally drink, so you’re not a kid.” He watched you smile, “And for what it’s worth, I think you’re really talented.” 

“Oh don’t say stuff like that to me,” you rolled your eyes and picked up your wine glass, “You might get me to come around to you.”

“Oh God forbid, we can’t have that.”

“Where’s Y/N?” Seokmin was frantically moving through the kitchen.  “Dinner service starts in 40 minutes, why aren’t any of you telling me where Y/N is?” 

“She’s in the dining room, damn…” 

Seokmin knew that you closed the restaurant last night, opened this morning, and the two of you were closing together tonight.  So, when he found you asleep in a booth in the dining room, he wasn’t surprised.  You often used the few hours Quartz and Serenity was closed between breakfast and dinner to catch up on studying.  

Your head was resting on your arms, your ponytail was loose and strands of hair were falling in your face.  He reached to brush them away from your eyes but stopped short when he read the papers under your hand.  Application for Employment. He read it over and over with his hand hovering above your head.  He felt his stomach drop so fast he was afraid it would fall out of his ass.  

Taking a deep breath he let his hand settle on top of your head. He rubbed your hair softly with his thumb for a few moments, hoping that you would wake up.  When you didn’t stir, he moved his hand to your shoulder and shook you lightly.  

“Y/N,” he leaned closer to you.  Your eyes opened slowly.  “Hey,” he smiled, “dinner service starts in 30. I would let you sleep, but we need the table.” You jolted upright at his words, knocking his hand back to his side.  

“In 30?!” You began to shuffle your papers back into the folder and snapped your book closed, “why didn’t anyone grab me sooner?”  Seokmin didn’t have time to answer before you were breezing past him toward the kitchen.  He watched you until you disappeared into the back room, agonizing over what he would do if you actually left Quartz and Serenity.  

The entire dinner service was spent the same way, Seokmin becoming flustered when you assisted him.  If he was being honest with himself, he would be impressed with how easily you were able to bounce back to routine.  It was almost as if the hiccup from before didn’t even happen. 

You moved through this kitchen like you’ve been in it your entire life, Seokmin truly could not imagine this place without you.  He didn’t want to think about the fact that he didn’t want this kitchen to run without you.  But you deserved to run a restaurant in his opinion.  He wanted you to call the shots and to be successful, even if that meant he and Chef Choi would be competing against you after your graduation.  Then it hit him; he also wanted to be selfish and hide you away for himself.  

“Can’t you move any faster?” You shoved a soapy dish towards Seokmin.  The two of you were the only people left in the building after a successful Sunday.  You were eager to get home and sleep after the worst lineup of shifts.  You picked up a shift from a coworker because you desperately needed the money, but you didn’t think ahead to how your bones would ache after it all.  

“If you would rinse the soap off I could,” he sighed.  He pulled the faucet head toward the dish in your hand, spraying you lightly with the water.  

“Seokmin!” You squealed in annoyance. Grabbing the faucet back from him, you angled it towards him.  The water rolled off his exposed forearms, his coat sleeves long pushed up over his elbows.  He raised an eyebrow at you, almost like a challenge.   He plunged his hands into the sink filled with soapy water and splashed it up onto your coat. 

It wasn’t like you to sink to his level. Any other day, you would put a stop to this, get the dishes done, and go straight home.  However, you’re not stupid and didn’t miss a single look in your direction through the entire day.  Seokmin looked at you like a lovesick puppy everytime.  Something about those looks lit a fire in your belly, and you didn’t care to find out if it was anger or interest. 

So, you followed suit. You cupped your hands around a gaggle of bubbles, lifted it high above your head and smoothed the soap into his dark hair.  He stood motionless for a moment, looking down at you in disbelief as his hair dripped onto the floor.  Finally, he swiped his hands through his wet hair, slicking it back and exposing his forehead.  Somehow it seemed like his features became more sharp and striking with his hair pushed away.  Your eyes followed the sharp slope of his nose down to his lips and back to his dark eyes.  

He moved toward you quietly.  The tension hung thick in the air. He cupped your jaw with his wet hands, eventually moving to thread suds through your ponytail.  Any part of him that thought he might kiss you was dampened by the water you suddenly hurled out of the sink at that exact moment.  He yelped and moved away from you. 

“We have dishes to finish, Chef Lee.” You smirked.  The dishes in question were finished and dried in complete silence.  The water and the clattering of the glass were the only sounds in the room.  

“Let me take you home,” Seokmin broke the silence.  

“What?” You gaped at him.  

“No…” A blush creeped up his neck, “not like that.  You take the bus, right?” You nodded at him.  “You’re all wet, just let me drive you to your place.” 

“You don’t have to do that…” 

“I know,” he smiled sheepishly, “but I want to, please?” 

Somehow, he convinced you.  You were panicked, too panicked to even make fun of him for being the kind of person who lived in New York City and owned a car.  He passed his phone over to you and instructed you to put your address into the maps app.

The ride was silent, your leg bounced as you watched the location get closer and closer. You nearly threw yourself out of the car when he parked in front of the building.  

“Bye! See you Tuesday!” You blurted as you ran towards the lobby of the building.  Seokmin waved, confused, at the back of your head. 

“You need to stop telling people you live here.” The front desk attendant deadpanned.  

“I know, Jane,” you ducked to spy out the window.  

“Who is it this time? Bad date?” Jane was used to you showing up in her lobby every few weeks at this point.  You were lucky that she loved to gossip or else she would have banned you from the building months ago. 

“Ugh, no,” you watched Seokmin’s car pull away from the curb, “My coworker.”

“Why do you care if your coworker knows where you live?” 

“Honestly?” You stood up and moved toward her desk, “I’m not sure…”

“Hm,” she holds out a lollipop to you, “might want to unpack that.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” you unwrap the candy and pop it into your mouth, “whatever.” You exit the building with a wave and begin the short walk to your actual apartment.       

“Red wine this time.” Seokmin declared as you slid into your chair.  

“Feeling bold today are we?” 

“Well,” he chuckled, “It’s a steakhouse, so we have to pair correctly!” This was the second installment of what Seokmin had started calling Seokmin's Surely Spectacular Suggestions .  You were starting to realize that he knows a lot more than you thought he did.  He always seemed to know someone at every restaurant, if not multiple people.   

“Oh my god!” A woman’s voice pulled you from your thoughts.  You looked up and the waitress was smiling at Seokmin. “It is so nice to see you!” 

“Oh!” Seokmin smiled widely at her, “I didn’t think you worked on Thursdays!” 

“Ugh!” She put her hand on her hip, “I don’t usually! Dosie needed the day off and as a good friend I took the shift.” She laughed and rolled her eyes.  You watched Seokmin’s face contort into a laugh.  Something panged in your chest watching them laugh together.  Suddenly, you were extremely interested in the menu in front of you as you tried not to think about what that could possibly mean.  Seokmin and the waitress chatted for several more minutes before she bounced away.  She never looked in your direction the entire time she was at the table.  

“Ordered us wine, hope that’s okay.” Seokmin knocked on the table in front of you to get your attention.  You hummed affirmatively. “What’s wrong? Have you decided you hate me again?”

“No,” You didn’t look at him.  You felt him stare at you from across the table, you held strong and did not look up from the menu.  It didn’t matter that you had read the words 8 oz wagyu beef steak and garlic potatoes six times, you couldn’t look at him.

The same waitress from earlier came back with your wine and a basket of bread. She placed everything down on the table and turned to Seokmin again.  

“Are you ready to order?” She smiled.  

“No, we need a few minutes.” You snapped before you had time to stop yourself. Seokmin shifted his gaze to you.  

“Oh, uh…okay.” The waitress blinked at you and turned on her heel without a second look.  

“What was that?” Seokmin was looking at you like you had grown a second head at some point in the last thirty seconds.  

“Nothing, she was pushy.” You shrugged, feigning nonchalance.  

“No she wasn’t.”

“She was!” You finally looked at him, he looked like a confused puppy, “You just didn’t see it because she was flirting with you.”   

“What are you talking abo–” His face contorted into a smirk, “Are you jealous?” He dropped his voice to a whisper.

“I’m going to the bathroom.” You declared, pushing out of your chair.  You all but stomped all the way to the bathroom, mentally cursing yourself for being jealous in the first place. A hand encircled your wrist as you turned the corner to the hallway that housed the bathrooms.  You turned to find Seokmin latched on to you.  He pulled you into the bathroom and locked the door behind you.  Looking him up and down he looked almost as shocked at his own actions as you felt.   

“Were you jealous?” He whispered, “I have to know, because if you don’t tell me it’ll eat me alive for the rest of my life.” You couldn’t help but think he was being just a little dramatic. You slotted your hand into the hair on the back of his head and pulled his lips to yours anyway.  

It took him a few moments to respond properly.  When his brain caught up to what was happening he kissed you back hungrily.  His lips moved roughly and he wrapped his arms around your waist. He pulled you as close as possible and swiped his tongue along your bottom lip.  You deepened the kiss and allowed him to explore further with his tongue.  

Seokmin had a way of putting every emotion he was feeling into his actions, it was evident when he kissed you angrily weeks ago, and it was evident now.  It felt like weeks of anger and bickering had melted off the two of you and now what was left was want and attraction that was left unsaid.  

He detached himself from your mouth and moved to kiss over your pulse point.  You squeezed your eyes shut and threw your head back to give him better access.  Experimentally, he sucked gently on the skin below your ear, earning him a quiet moan.  He did it again. 

“Let’s go home,” he panted into your skin. “Please.”  

“Seokmin we’ve only had wine,” you whispered  

“I’ll make you pizza at home, I don’t care, I just need you.” He whined.  

—-

Seokmin fumbled with the key to his apartment, his thoughts were elsewhere at the moment.  Finally, he unlocked the door and ushered you inside.  You tried not to think about the fact that his apartment was about double the size of yours.  He kissed you again once he had the door locked and you both inside.  His hands found your hips and he pulled you closer as he was licking into your mouth.  He tasted like wine, the same one you knew was on your lips as well.  

“You owe me pizza, Chef Lee..” You whispered, breaking away from his desperate mouth. 

“Oh my god, Y/N,” he groaned, “I can make pizza with my eyes closed.” His confidence was attractive, it was rare for him to be cocky like that.  

“You didn’t buy me dinner, and I’m a lady.” He scoffed and rolled his eyes before grabbing and lifting you up, forcing you to wrap your legs around his trim waist.  You yelped in surprise, you had no idea he could do that.  He plopped you down on the kitchen island and moved to the other countertop.  You watched as he rolled out pizza dough.  His arm muscles bulged as he put in effort to flatten it.  “Not even homemade dough?” You teased, “Some chef!” 

He sent you a glare out of the corner of his eye, but the blush creeping up his neck gave him away.  Suddenly it clicked, “oh my god, do you get turned on when I’m mean to you?” You smirked.  

“Shut up…” Seokmin muttered while opening the pizza sauce.  

“Well…better hurry that prep…” You smiled wickedly, spreading your legs.  Seokmin glanced over at you and nearly moaned at the sight of your panties under your dress.  He frantically pressed the buttons to preheat the oven.  Once the pizzas were ready to be put in the oven he slotted himself between your legs and captured your lips once more.  

You guided his hand to your breast and encouraged him to squeeze.  He placed his other hand on your exposed thigh.  He trailed his fingers slowly up and up towards your center until the oven beeped.  He groaned and ran over to place the pans in the oven and set the timer. 

“Take your pants off.” You stated simply when he turned back to you.  He nodded and stumbled out of his jeans, the thin fabric of his briefs left little to the imagination as he was hard by this point.  He moved toward you and you ran a hand over his clothed cock, he hissed at the contact.  

“One second,” He blurted before disappearing down the hall.  You contemplated touching yourself while he was gone, but he returned in a rush before you had the chance.  He wiggled a small foil package in his fingers to show you why he left.  

“Who said you could hit?” 

“I–well I just figured…”

“I was about to start without you just now, I could still do that.” You could tell that Seokmin was weighing his options, knowing it would be so hot to see you get yourself off, but needing the feeling of being inside you.  

“No, no!” He sputtered, “I got you!” You grabbed his wrist and moved his hand to your clothed cunt.  

“Prove it.” 

He started slowly, the pads of his fingers circling your clit through your panties. His lips attached to the sensitive skin below your ear.  He kissed the skin slowly, letting his teeth graze your neck every so often.  He hooked his thumbs under your underwear and pulled them off gingerly, letting them flutter to the floor.  

He ran his fingers through your folds, savoring the wetness there just for him.  Experimentally he slipped a finger inside, earning him an arch of your back and a sound so delicious it could be the only thing he heard for the rest of his life and he would be happy.  

“C’mere,” he grunted, his voice deeper than you had ever heard it.  He moved you to the edge of the counter and inserted a second finger.  You couldn’t help but rock your hips against his ruminations.  He reached that delicious spot inside of you and you felt yourself hurtling off the cliff.  “You talk a big game, but you’re so desperate for me.” Seokmin snaked his free hand over his cock, teasing himself as he finger fucked you into an orgasm.  

Once you came back to Earth he slowly removed his fingers.  Before he had the chance to wash them off, you took his hand and guided his fingers into your mouth.  He watched with wonder as your tongue swirled around his digits, cleaning them.  You pulled them out, a string of saliva connecting you to him.  

“Who’s desperate now?” You breathed watching him continue to tease himself over his briefs.  

“Can I please fuck you?” He whined.  You helped him out of his briefs, you watched his cock spring free, the tip red and angry.  You leaned down and thumbed his leaking slit, earning you a delicious moan.  You spread the mess down his shaft.  

He opened the condom with his teeth, you watched as he rolled it down.  He pulled you to the edge of the counter again and lined himself up with your entrance.  He pushed himself inside of you slowly, allowing you time to adjust.  The stretch was delicious.  He slowly began to thrust, whining in the process.  

“You’re so warm,” he cried.  You felt every inch of him as he slid in and out of you. His hands anchored you to the countertop as you draped your arms across his back.  Seokmin found his rhythm once you wrapped your legs around his waist, he felt so surrounded by you.  He swore he could live with you wrapped around him for the rest of his life.  

“Why didn’t you fuck me in the restaurant?” You breathed.  His hips stuttered for a moment.  

“In public?” He bit his lip.  

“Yeah?” You swiped a hand through his hair and gave it a tug.  He moaned into the crook of your neck.  

“I uh-” He whined, “I didn’t think-I don’t know?” “Oh you really can’t think when your dick’s busy, huh?”  He whined into your neck again, the vibrations and the warm air fanning against your skin left goosebumps behind. Seokmin’s hands trailed down from your hips to your thighs and he began to knead your soft skin with his nimble fingers.  

You leaned your head back, enjoying the feeling of him all over you, inside of you.  With better access to you he experimentally captured your skin between his teeth.  Your sounds spurred him on and encouraged him to begin sucking and biting a bruise into your skin.  With this your hips bucked up to meet his thrusts.  

The idea of being marked by Seokmin would have appalled you just a few weeks ago, but now you couldn’t bring yourself to hate the idea of people knowing you have had him like this.  Like that stupid waitress.  “She wanted you.” You muttered between moans.  

“What?” Seokmin breathed into your skin.  

“That waitress, she wanted you.” 

“Oh well.” Seokmin bit you again.  He was marking you, even after you told him that another woman wanted him like this.  The coil in your stomach threatened to snap at that alone.  You could envision yourself falling off the edge soon.  Seokmin was still massaging the underside of your thighs, pinning your legs around his waist.  Suddenly everything was overwhelming, everything was him.  You felt like fireworks were setting off inside you.  He continued rolling his hips into you through your orgasm.  Shortly after he was releasing into the condom, moans rattled your throat the entire time.

He pulled back to look at you, his eyelids were heavy over his eyes, his lips puffy.  Before either of you had the chance to say anything the oven beeped.  Seokmin’s eyes grew wide, both of you obviously forgot about the pizza.  

“Get your dick out of me and turn that off!” You laughed.  He nodded and slowly pulled out of you.  You watched him slap the off button on the oven, trying not to laugh at him being naked from the waist down.  

Once both of you were cleaned up and clothed, Seokmin cut the pizza and put it on plates.  You were waiting on his couch, dressed head to toe in his clothes.  To him you looked like a dream.  

“Stay the night.” He handed you your plate and sat down next to you.  

“No.” You stated simply, picking up a piece of pizza.  After several seconds of silence you looked up at him, he was looking at you dumbfounded.  “We have work tomorrow.” 

“I’ll drive you!” 

“And walk past Jeongyeon after showing up with you and smelling like sex? No thanks.” 

“You can shower here, I’ll even walk in ten minutes later, please?” He looked like a puppy again.  

“I don’t have my work clothes, and no yours won’t fit me.” You gestured towards his clothes that were far too big on you.  

“There’s extras, you know that.” 

“Fine…” You wouldn’t mind showering in a nice apartment for a change. “You walk in fifteen minutes after me, and you shower with me.” “You have a deal!”               

Finals week was upon you.  The only week out of the year that work came second to school, you were so close to graduation you just had to make it through a week of practical exams.  You were confident in your ability to pass but your mind was elsewhere most of the time.  

You wondered how the kitchen was fairing without you, how Seokmin was doing without you.  As much as you hated to admit it, he did know what he was doing, but being absent was eating at you.  You flipped through the pages of your textbook without reading a single word wishing you could pick up your phone and hear about the days you’ve missed.  

Across town Seokmin was doing just about as well, he knew your name wasn’t on the schedule and he was dying to know where you were.  He was chopping carrots to have for dinner service when he decided to go straight to your apartment tonight.  He didn’t care if he had to get on his knees and beg the woman at the desk to tell him your apartment number.  

He all but sprinted out to his car once the kitchen was clean for the following day.  He parked on the curb in front of the building after the short drive.  He practiced what he was going to say to the woman at the desk on his way into the lobby.  He took a deep breath and approached her.  

“Can I help you?” 

“I’m looking for Y/F/N Y/L/N!” He blurted.  “She hasn’t been to work in a few days, she isn’t scheduled but she didn’t tell me she wouldn’t be here and I wanted to make sure I didn’t do anything wrong and I–” The woman was laughing.  Sure he went off script, but how would she know? He looked at her, confused.  

“She doesn’t live here.” Now he wasn’t expecting that.  

“What?” 

“I told her this would happen eventually, somebody would come looking for her and I would have to be the one to break it to them.” She sighed.  

“She just…lies to people?” 

“Yeah all the time.” She began digging in her desk for something.  “You said you worked with her?” “Yeah, I dropped her off here after work once…so I just thought..” Seokmin rubbed the back of his neck with his hand.  

“Oh you’re the one she was weird about!” “What?” “What? Nothing.” She began scribbling something on a slip of paper. “Here, this is her address, tell her Jane sent you.”  She handed him the paper and two lollipops.  

—-

A cautious knock rang through your apartment, which was confusing considering no one knew where you lived.  You unfolded yourself from the couch and padded to the door.  Seokmin was standing in the hallway and you almost slammed the door in his face.  

“What are you doing here?” You almost shrieked.  He held up two lollipops silently.  “Fuck, okay, uh…come in.” You stepped to the side allowing him entrance.  He shuffled past you, seeing another person standing in your tiny apartment was odd to say the least.  

“Hi,” Seokmin offered quietly while you were intently staring at the ground.  “It’s nice to see you.”

“I’m sorry my apartment is gross and cluttered and small.”  You muttered.  Seokmin looked around the apartment.  The cookbooks in the kitchen were piled almost as high as the refrigerator, the pink throw blanket on the couch made him smile, seeing a softness that no one else gets to see.  The living room was bathed in lamp light that made the shadows in the room look exaggerated and long.  The apartment was uniquely you and he loved it.  

“What?” He chuckled, “I don’t care what your apartment looks like, is this why you lied?” Your head snapped up at him calling you out so directly.  

“I never lied, I told you to drop me off there, not that I lived there.” You pointed out.  He gave you a look.  “I didn’t lie.”   

“Sure, maybe not,” he sighed.  

“I’m sorry,” You whispered, Seokmin had never seen you at a loss for words like this.  

“Look,” he took your hand, “that’s not why I’m here, it doesn’t matter.” You led him to the couch, moving the open textbook so that he could sit down.  Seeing him sitting on your couch was strange, seeing him here was not something you thought you would ever see.  “Are you okay?” He blurted out.  

“What?” You were taken aback, “of course, I’m fine.”

“You just haven’t been to work in a few days and after…the activities at my apartment I thought maybe you hated me, and–” “Woah!” You smiled, “why would I hate you? Seokmin, I took the week off to focus on finals week.”

“Oh.” He looked at you sheepishly. “Uh, well, how are they going?” You rolled your eyes.  

“Fine, I’ll pass, I miss work though.” You shrugged.  

“Just work?” “No, I miss the way Soonyoung runs out of the kitchen when he sees me.”

“Oh…” He dropped his gaze dejectedly.  “Hey!” He exclaimed as your fist connected with his arm.  

“I miss you, dumb ass.” “So you didn’t quit?” “No,” you looked at him, confused.  “You know you could have asked literally anyone where I was, right?”

“No one was talking about it! I thought we were all super sad about you quitting! I don’t know!” He gestured wildly with his hands.  “And…ugh, okay, you remember that one day like a month ago? When you were asleep in the dining room and I woke you up?”

“Yeah?” “I, uh, I saw what you were working on…the job applications.” He lowered his volume as if he was afraid you would explode.  “I thought you might’ve just up and left, you never liked me anyway, so you didn’t really have any reason to let me know.” 

“Oh,” you sighed.  “I’m sorry…” “Tell me you’ve changed your mind, you’re not leaving us.” “Seokmin….” 

“Is it because of me?”

“Maybe at first,” You started, you could see the tears well up in his eyes. “But now…if anything you’ve made it harder to leave.” 

“Where are you going?” He met your eyes again.  You reached out to swipe the tears that managed to escape.  

“I have a few offers, I don’t know yet.” 

“Of course you do,” he laughed sadly, took hold of your wrists,and rubbed the back of your hands with his thumbs.  “You’re so talented any restaurant would be stupid to not offer you a job.” 

“That’s not what you said a few months ago.” You pointed out. 

“Well, you know how to julienne the carrots now.” 

“Hey!” You tried to push him away but he held you in place.  He glanced at your lips before leaning in to kiss you.  He kissed you softly, his lips tasted vaguely of salt and honey chapstick.  He let himself linger without deepening the kiss until he suddenly pulled back, looking panicked.  

“Those offers are for sous chef positions right?” 

“Of course they are, watch out, Chef Lee.”    

Three years later

You stretch out on your couch after making the most of your day off.  With your recent promotion to head chef at Diamond you haven’t had a lot of time to relax.  With your new hectic schedule you were shocked that you were able to make it the entire day without getting a single call about the restaurant.  

A hand squeezed your calf gently.  You hummed at the contact.  

“I’ll make dinner tonight, love.” Seokmin mumbled sleepily from the other end of the couch.  

“No.” You stated simply.  

“Um, why not?” 

“‘The only thing worse than the tacky decor at Quartz and Serenity is the incompetence of the kitchen. If you’re looking for the exact opposite of what you asked for, this is the restaurant for you.’” You rattled off.  

“What are you doing?” Seokmin sat up, knocking your legs off the couch. 

“‘I would give them zero stars if I could!’” You stared at him, “‘I ordered a steak and it came out barely cooked at all! Will not be returning!’”

“Okay! In my defense on that one, she ordered a well done steak!” He threw his hands up.  “Who does that?” 

“MichelleJo1965, obviously.” You deadpanned.  

“When did you have time to dig through our Yelp reviews?” Seokmin scoffed, “I didn’t realize dating the competition meant I would have to defend myself at home.” 

“Step up your game, Head Chef Lee.” You shrugged.  “But seriously? She ordered a well done steak?” 

“She did! It’s not my fault she has no taste.” He shrugged.  “By the way I have plenty of great reviews, and I seem to remember my girlfriend really liking my cooking.” “You’re alright, I guess.” You shrugged.  “When are you going to ask me by the way?” 

“What?” He tried to stay calm, you could be talking about anything, certainly not the ring that has been staring at him from under his underwear for the last six months.  

“You really need to figure out where to hide things where I won’t find them” Wordlessly Seokmin got up from the couch and stomped into your shared bedroom.  For a split second you thought you might have pushed too far until he returned with the small velvet box.  

“I hope you at least left me one secret, you didn’t look at it did you?” He smiled sheepishly.  

“No, Min, I have no idea what it looks like, swear.” 

“Good,” to your surprise he sank down to one knee, right there in the living room. “You never were good at leaving well enough alone, I had a grander plan, but this seems much more our speed, huh?” You laughed.  “Will you marry me, even if my Yelp reviews suck sometimes?” He popped the small box open to reveal a ring.  

“Of course I will, you idiot.”   

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPxDC prompt. Fae!Danny x Jason. Dead on main. Death of a Fairy Tale. or

"Oh no! This tricky hooman stole my heart! What should I do?" *becomes a leader of his court and, just in case, overthrows the tyrant Pariah Dark in order to allow marriages with representatives of other races and live happily ever after with Jay*.

~~~~~

 “You're not allowed to be here. This is not your territory.”

Jason barely had time to catch his breath after escaping from the hot dog vendor when someone noticed him hiding in the bushes.

There were no rides for children or food vans in this park, so Todd didn't understand why anyone would cling to this territory but the guy looked at him with obvious concern. And well, after the morning's adventures, Jay didn't have any energy for another conflict at all. This kid looked pale and thin, so it didn't look like fighting with him would get him anything.

“Calm down, I'm just passing by. What's your problem, dude?”

“I live somewhere ne...here.”

Jason rolled his eyes. It's clear that the guy lived nearby, but it's unlikely that he had a house. The lack of a T-shirt and shoes hinted that in front of him was also a street rat who most likely had not yet learned how to defend his belongings. Poor guy. But this is definitely not Jason's business.

However, did he really spend the night outside in the open air? Sleeping on the bench was a last choice even for Jason. This might be acceptable options in some quiet provincial town, not in Gotham.

“I mean, what are you doing outside?”

Young Phantom checks his glamour, but finds no flaws in it. This man in front of him must be very knowledgeable and experienced, despite his young age, since he immediately recognized him as not a human being. For Danny, who lived with other fairies in Fairyland all his childhood and came to this dimension for the first time, the outside always meant the world of human. Fae shocked and upset that he was discovered so quickly. Haven't people almost forgotten about their existence? The elders would swear a lot if they found out that he had failed. The boy carefully orders the vine and clover to cover the circle of mushrooms, hiding the front door from the human. He was the only one of the entire brood entrusted by Undergrowth to start a practice in a city where there are almost no plants and sunlight, and faeling did not want to let down the mentor who took him under his wing at all.

The old Fairies claim that people are mean and narrow-minded, but Danny himself is intrigued by these creatures and therefore hopes that he will be able to come to an agreement with the boy and to continue his research without obstacles. Danny intends to take the exam for the right to be called an adult fae this decade, which means he has no right to make mistakes. But still, forcing a guy to dance until he drops dead from exhaustion or make him wander along the paths of this small green area without being able to find a way out, as he was taught to get rid of pests at home, seemed too cruel. This boy, just like him, is still a cub and he is here by accident, not to encroach on their possessions. They need not quarrel.

“Don't banish me. I'm just trying to learn.”

“To do what?”

“To steal.” Danny blushes, realizing that such honesty was unnecessary. Stupid, stupid...People know that faeries can take their names, thereby gaining power over them. Now this cub will definitely decide that he has come to cause harm and he will not be able to learn anything useful and interesting. Phantom quickly makes excuses. “Nothing important! I only borrowed trinkets and fruits.”

“You're new to this, aren't you?”

“Is it that noticeable?”

“Pretty noticeable, yes.”

The boy looked at him almost pityingly. And the Phantom didn't like it.

That's how the spirits and other fairies used to look at him when they found out he was only halfa. Because of this fact, his abilities were belittled and not taken seriously too often. What's wrong with that? He's dead just like everyone else, even if not completely.

And now he's screwed up, not even because of his nature, but because of his sluggishness. It was especially unpleasant, as it was deserved. He should have spent his time more productively, but the flowers bred with the help of humans were so interesting and talked about their longing for the sun with such sadness that fae did not dare to interrupt them.

Jason finished both of the stolen hot dogs and leaved the park. The guy still follow him and stares intently, almost without blinking.

“Stop it. What do you want?”

“I study. You seem experienced. “

“People don't really like being stared at like this, in case you didn't know. Back off.”

“Really?”

Jason was ready to be outraged that the kid thought he was an idiot but the tramp from the park looked really puzzled. It seems that if he ever had parents, they didn't care about the boy, since they didn't explain to him that atypical behavior could add him problems. The boy is lucky that Jay is an asshole only when absolutely necessary.

“You're weird. Try to keep your mouth shut near others.”

“Okay.”

Jason took a few minutes to think and sighed. Todd could not leave this strange child alone, because damn conscience would not allow it. He can't survive alone. He will either wander after some other person and become a victim of trafficking or he will be at the beck and call of some assholes in the late afternoon. Jason cursed his bleeding heart once more and promised himself that he would keep the boy by his side no longer than necessary. Jay couldn't afford to be responsible for another mouth to feed. Summer has already come to an end and it was worth starting to save a little money and store things in case of early cold weather.

“If I teach you some of my skills will you promise to stay away from the places where I…work?”

“Maybe. Is this a deal?”

“Yes, if you'll agree, idiot. “

Danny nods and his new acquaintance continues.

“First of all, we'll get you shoes and some clothes. I don't need you to pick up tetanus and some viral crap.”

Danny smiles a little, trying not to make it too noticeable. Great trick.

He nodded to indicate understanding rather than agreeing, and the boy did not ask for verbal confirmation. It seems that he is not completely hopeless at deceiving people. Phantom couldn't wait to tell Clockwork or Frostbite about his success.

They wound through streets and rooftops for a long time until they reached other man's temporary shelter, and Danny had to admit that the man's decision to borrow more clothes was very clever. Strange sharp things and narrow bags of biological fluid were found between the houses disgustingly often. The elders are right about something? Danny must admit. Some people are nasty. They didn't even clean the settlement they live in properly.

A foul-smelling device for carrying things flew into the face of fae while he thoughtfully followed the boy telling him something about removing so-called tires from the iron inanimate horses.

“Dude, stop fighting with a trash bag. You'll stand guard while I give the customer the goods, okay?”

“Fine.” To be honest, the intern was ready to cry from the injustice of life and rush home, and he was only stopped by the desire to visit the observatory, which his new acquaintance mentioned when fae complained that because of the smoke and smog the stars would probably not be visible at night.

Danny realized that he did not regret his decision when, a couple of minutes later, he heard his human quarreling with adult specimen. Judging by the conversation, the man refused to pay the price for the things brought to him and even threatened to hit Phantom's guide. Danny was annoyed by this and decided to intervene a little. To his good fortune, on the balcony of this vile man there was a pot with withering petunias and they did not mind helping lil fae teach their owner manners. A slight whiff of magic and the pot falls on the deceiver's head and human begins to choke on the roots that climb right into his mouth. Danny giggles, congratulating his green comrades on their successful revenge. Other boy doesn't waste any time and grabs the bucks that fell out of the customer's hands and orders new boy to run.

Danny spent several days with human cub and really learned a lot about these creatures. Despite the fact that such a pastime was exciting, he needed to at least create the illusion of practice the fae skills.

It is dangerous to ask a person who knows who he is about this but teachers will be upset if he does not make an attempt. And despite the fact that the people around him seem scary, Nocturn will be much scarier in anger if he finds out that Phantom is such a loser.

“Ma- Can I have your name?” Danny muttered uncertainly and immediately panicked at his own impudence. “Sorry!”

“Jason.”

Todd was in a good mood, as luck had been with him for the last few days, and the new companion was not at all as useless as it seemed to him from the beginning. He was able to hide so well that no one could detect them, and managed to bring fresh fruits, vegetables and mushrooms to their safe house. However, there were problems with the last one, since this strange dude sometimes brought toadstools and satan's boletes to their apartment, which he managed to get from unknown places. Jason thought he was going to have a heart attack the first time he caught child happily eating raw fly agaric. Indeed, if Jay hadn't found him this boy would probably have died of poisoning in that park by now. Todd had to persuade him to bring only chanterelles, which he could confidently identify as edible and not fear for their lives every time the boy tries to help find food. And his padawan really managed to find them. In Gotham. Holy shit. Maybe this park, so fiercely guarded by the boy, was another secret area for Poison Ivy's experiments? However, poisonous specimens will not be wasted either, since you never know when you will need to defend yourself without entering into a fight, but acting more subtly.

“Real name! Real one!” The boy's eyes were as big as saucers and he became very worried and waved his hands as if trying to shake off invisible sticky threads from his fingertips. “You shouldn't say your actual name! Why did you do that? You shouldn't have given it to me.”

“There are a lot of Jason's around. Why do you care about that?”

“You're not just some Jason, you're my Jason, you're important to me. It's dangerous if someone has your name. Then that someone can make you do bad things.”

Tears began pouring down boy's face and Jason was surprised by such a violent reaction. Todd doesn't think there's anything to worry about, since he didn't tell the stranger his last name. He often introduces himself in different ways. Just, for some reason, something made him be honest this time. But how would this guy know that?

“Well…You're not just anyone. We're friends. I don't think you're going to rat on me to the cops or anything. So it's okay. “ Jay tries to calm the newcomer down.

“Friends?”

“Yes. Friends forever?” Jason teasingly holds out his little finger, offering a childish oath that he recently taught his padawan.

“Forever.” The boy supports the oath, and then, after thinking for a second, leans closer to Todd and whispers. "I'm Danny, just so you know."

“Good. I'll remember.”

The young fae is overcome with euphoria. He took the name! He did it! But that was all the other boy had, apart from a rusty tire iron, so it probably wasn't right or friendly to keep it. The human cub helped him. Danny couldn't keep such a gift. He didn't even really try to get his name. “Jason is your name.”

“That's right, buddy.”

“I won't call you that name.” Where I come from, even spouses rarely know each other's names. Danny wanted to assure his friend that he should not be afraid that he would abuse his power. “ I like you so I will take full responsibility for the possession of such a gift, don't worry.”

“Hah, in order to take responsibility, you already need to at least marry me as a moral compensation, given the number of brain cells killed by your antics. “

“Well, if I have to, then I will. When we're older.”

Jason snorts and shakes his head. It's probably not love, since they're just kids, but still, Jason thinks that if all autumn evenings were like this, he wouldn't mind spending his life with Danny, snuggling closer to the boy while they both bask under the same blanket. No matter how many times a day they managed to roll in the mud and fall into the trash can, the boy always gave off a light scent reminiscent of spring greens, which reminded Todd of something warm and cozy. Maybe a home? Although when his father was not in prison yet, his house smelled more like the stench of cigarette smoke and mold.  So Danny was more like a hope for a good home that they write about in books.

On their free evenings Jason usually entertained them by reading. Danny has always been an attentive listener, reacting vividly. After stroking the battered cover of a new book he found, Jason puts it aside. He's too tired today, and  just wants to listen.

Noticing this, Danny begins to chirp about his homeland. His stories are like fairy tales, too bright and colorful for the stone Jungle. Jay realized a long time ago that his friend had something like a defense mechanism. Todd himself snapped and fought when the world was too cruel, this guy escaped to his fictional world, where he was safer and happier. His friend could have been a great writer someday. The descriptions of Princess Dorathea and her cruel brother, pharaoh with an unusual passion for technology and ultra-recyclo vegetarian queen of plants were so detailed and vivid that they seemed true. Danny's imagination contained the whole world.

When the first snowflakes fall to the ground, Danny says that this means that his friend Frostbite will soon come to pick him up. Jason is honestly not ready for such a turn of events. He promised himself that he would not be around another boy for longer than necessary, but he managed to get attached. He hopes that this statement is just another one of his companion's fantasies and forgets about it for a while.

A snowstorm is raging in the city when Danny does not return home. The snowfall does not stop for several days, and Todd realizes that his friend left him, although all his belongings are left in their apartment. He hopes that someone really came for the boy, and not that in the spring his body will be found in one of the melting snowdrifts.  After a few months, when the canned homemade vegetables carefully cooked by Danny are coming to an end, and the mold, sitting alone  in a corner of the ceiling all winter, felt the first the warm rays of the sun, Todd decides not to waste energy on useless worries and hopes.

Soon, as Danny would put it, Batman steals Jason. Todd doesn't really trust the old man at first, but he teaches him to be Robin, and, well, Robin is cool. He's magic. Robin is an urban legend, a spirit worthy of being the hero of Danny's favorite stories. Robin is Jason's connection not only to the city itself, but also to his past. Robin does not need to think about whether he should grieve not only for his mother but also for his friend. Robin is more. There is not only strength and hope in this uniform, but also memories, nostalgia and  humanness. Therefore, Todd is not ready to give up the suit, even if he understands Grayson's displeasure. Because when he goes out on a patrol, the longing becomes less, and he feels that he is getting better and closer to something important. It helps.

No.

It helped.

And then he died.

And things are getting worse by the day, hah.

~~~A few hits with a crowbar later~~~

Jason learns about a new attempt of eco-terrorism relatively late, when he is officially called to help. Even so he stays at the place of the fight before the rest of the family. Firstly, because this time Ivy decided to start destruction from the closest to Crime Alley park, and secondly because Ivy's creations always pay little attention to him. Even the famous pollen has almost no effect on Hood.

Making his way through the furiously writhing vines, Red Hood notices the enemy and realizes that it is not Ivy, but decides that he will analyze the situation during the battle and rushes forward.

“Hey! Don't touch B, you.. “Almost flying into a guy with such a familiar face, the Hood slows down sharply “... pointy-eared.”

A guy with sparkling green energy in his hand and a vigilante with a pistols in each hand freeze looking at each other.

“Man, is it you?”

Snow-white hair, glowing green eyes, transparent dragonfly-like wings and razor-sharp claws are completely unfamiliar to Todd, but facial features, expressions and a bracelet with star pendants that Jay gave Danny for his birthday, adorning one of the impressive polished horns, allow to recognize him.

“Jay! It's been a long time, my friend.” Hearing Todd's voice, despite the sound changed by the helmet, the creature calms down. “You've grown up a lot.”

“And you're still so short. Wow. And, by the way, I can't believe you're still keep it.” Red puts the safety of the guns and then points one of them at the jewellery. “It's from a dollar store, nothing special.”

John says goodbye to the hope of a day off after the mission, cursing the manners of the bat and his offspring. Is a couple of days without the risk of interdimensional conflict really that too much to ask for?

“You gave it to me. That's why it's special.”

The creature smiles and Todd feels his face blushing. It's a good thing he's still wearing his helmet. Danny looks too…magical…in every sense.

“Do you know him, Hood?” Of course, Bat cannot stay out of the conversation when nothing is holds him back.

“No.”

“Yes.”  Danny denies the statement of Hood, proudly puffs out his chest and declares. “He was my first. He calls himself Hood these days? How strange.”

Bat gasps and exhales indignantly.

Jason quickly connects the fact that his friend is definitely not human with the possibility that Danny's stories were true.

“Name!” Trying to fix the chaos that his friend is trying to involve them in, Red Hood hurries to explain. “He's talking about damn name. I'm the first one who gave...”

“Oh, come on, spoilsport. He almost believed me.” The fairy winks playfully and Jason has to do his best to focus on the mission and not on the guy. “You're my betrothed anyway. And, hey, I collected the library as a wedding gift.”

“Hm.” Hood rolls his eyes. This joke about their childhood promise would have been hilarious if he hadn't felt the old man's rising pressure behind his back. So, returning to the problem, he still needs to get these two away from each other as soon as possible. Neither Danny nor Bruce has a calm personality, and Jason didn't want to start Danny's acquaintance with Alfred by giving first aid to these dummies. “So what's all the fuss about? Are you like um.. Ivy's pet-pixie or what?”

Now John Constantine, who carefully watched the meeting from the sidelines, almost feels his blood pressure rising too. Compare faeries with garden pests. What was Batman's son thinking about, showing such disrespect? He wanted them to have more problems or what?

“Hm? Who is Ivy? I've never heard of her. To be honest, I'm only here because our gate was disturbed.” The fairy chirped angrily and, with a nervous flutter of his wings, flew up to the bushes. His finger pointed accusingly at the crushed mushrooms that John and Batsy had landed on when they unsuccessfully attacked Dr. Isley. “But even though your companions' behavior is inexcusable, I don't blame you, of course. I am glad that we met again because of this incident, Tagetes.”

The Faerie circle...John hadn't seen this in years. Damn Gotham. He difenetly doesn't want the problems of this crazy city to fall under his and Shazam's responsibility. Now it is clear why Rogue disappeared so quickly. She probably knew about it and wanted to make them someone else's problem. Damn it twice, John should have sent a message instead of coming to Gotham to discuss business with Wayne. Being uninvited guests of such mischievous and malicious hosts does not bode well.

“You are lucky that the Fright Knight is not on duty today. But someone will have to answer for it. Is it really so hard to look at your feet? Or is this a deliberate provocation? I demand an apology.”

“No, enough games for you. They're a little busy chasing someone, in case you didn't notice.” Jason starts pulling on his friend's hand, intending to take him out of the park. Next to these paranoids, it's better not to ask an old friend about anything. “Only good little fairies are invited to my safe house to taste my signature lasagna today, so stop trying to give my old man a heart attack, okay?”

“Wait. Is this Willis?” The fairy's eyes narrow and he looks at the cloaked dark figure with disapproval.

"No, another jerk. B has a problem with adoptions and that's the reason I'm now part of his brood." Jason reluctantly explains. "He literally dragged me off the streets without consent after I tried to take the tires off his car."

“Oh my Ancients, he did what?! But you're mine! He had no right to steal you.” Danny indignantly rustled the leaves of the closest trees.

“I prefer to be considered as my own man, thank you very much.”

“Riiight…but still, speaking absolutely one hundred percent theoretically, who would you rather stay with, darling? If only you were mine~”

“Ja-..Don't let yourself be fooled, Red Hood. You can't trust him. Ten or even fifty years spent on a prank don't mean anything to this creature.” Bruce doesn't look happy with how at ease Todd is with the threat, but frankly, he rarely looks happy at all, so the crime lord doesn't attach too much importance to it.

"Wow. Rude. This is partially true, but it still hurts. Jason is a friend. I won't do anything to him and I don't demand anything from him. I can't say that about the rest of you. I was preparing for a long-awaited vacation, and because of your fuss I have a new bunch of paperwork to do. What can you say in your defense?"

The boy with the snow-white hair didn't look really upset, but just because there was still a smile on his face, it couldn't be said that he wasn't furious. Next to fairies, all human senses became enemies, not allies.

Despite the deceptive good-naturedness of merrily fluttering his wings guy, John was on high alert. Short-tempered, playful and obnoxious temperament were both a blessing and a curse when working with these creatures. Fairies skillfully searched for loopholes in contracts and in general were the best deceivers among those who could only tell the truth. Faeries prefer to bend victims to their will with words, but they are skilled users of the magic of nature and chaos. They also, despite the business acumen as strong as the alligator's mouth closing strength, were willing to play cat-and-mouse with those who dared to turn to him for help or just walk near their possessions. And this specimen was also clearly not one of the fairies that Morningstar had taken over control, since his energy reeked of Infinite Realms. Unknown territory. John urgently needs to come up with some ingenious plan to get everyone out of this fighting safe and relatively unscathed and…

“Fuck off, B. I told you he already has my name. If he wanted to hurt me, he would have done it at any time. You should show more respect for your future son-in-law, you know.”

“Jason, honey, since when do street rats hang out with bats?” Danny obviously didn't have much sympathy for the Gotham vigilante before, but because of his story, their chances of getting along tended to zero.

“Oh, come on, don't even start this conversation. What is more important…Who would I rather stay with? Hm…Let's say, um, theoretically, of course…If your fiance was killed by one very very bad cruel clown, what would you do, Stardust?

"I would tear clown molecule by molecule."

“Yes, yes! Right!” Jason pats Danny on the shoulder and turns to Batman. “See, that's how you should have reacted.”

Constantine: …What an Addams family. I'm leaving. I've already seen enough. If you get kidnapped, don't call me. Damn freaks.

Come with me now to see my world

Where there's beauty beyond your dreams

Strangers Like Me - Phil Collins

[yuvany]

FIRST TIME MEETING THEIR PARENTS

Your first dinner with 𝐄𝐍𝐇𝐘𝐏𝐄𝐍's parents, but you're too nervous . . .

OT7 ENHYPEN x f!reader CONTENT / WARNING(S) fluff + pet names + anxious!reader + est relationships + not proofreadWORD COUNT 868 words CHECK MARK

reblogs + feedback always appreciated!!

𝗟𝗘𝗘 𝗛𝗘𝗘𝗦𝗘𝗨𝗡𝗚

You were standing in the hallway, checking your appearance in the mirror way too many times, more than you should. Heeseung notices this and makes his way over to you. "Sweetie, why are you so stressed?" You even out your black skirt again, and answer, "this is the first time I'm meeting your parents. What if they don't like me?" You see Heeseung's warm, brown eyes in the reflection connect with yours which casts a warm feeling over your chest. "They'll love you, I'm sure of it, my love." He says, and kisses you on the cheek. "Are you sure?" "Of course I am." His words soothing a portion of your insecurities.

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗝𝗢𝗡𝗚𝗦𝗘𝗢𝗡𝗚

"Honey, does your mum like mushrooms?" You ask, entering the bedroom while holding a small basket. "Yes, why?" He brushes his hair one last time and raises an eyebrow at you. "Are you nervous because of the dinner with my parents?" Jay asks, his finger sliding up your shoulder. "Not really, I just want to make a good impressions, you know." It was a white lie, and Jay knew it. "Babe, they love mushrooms. maybe you could show her how you usually cook them, they'll love it just as much as I do." He says, trying to ease your worries. "After all, I'll love you no matter what, angel."

𝗦𝗜𝗠 𝗝𝗔𝗘𝗬𝗨𝗡

You were prancing around the livingroom, your heart pounding so fast. You had accidentally dressed up a lot earlier than Jake due to your nerves. "You look classy, babe." Jake winks, his hand combing through his hair. "Thanks, you too." He notices how pin straight you're standing, the stance you have whenever you're nervous. "Do you remember when I was scared of meeting your parents?" He asks, and you nod, remembering that day clear as day. "So, was there any need for me to be?" "They loved you, Jake." You chuckle. "Exactly, so you don't need to be nervous either. Ok?" He pulls you in by the waist and hugs you.

𝙋𝘼𝙍𝙆 𝙎𝙐𝙉𝙂𝙃𝙊𝙊𝙉

You two walked into the restaurant that everyone had agreed on going to. It nearly feels like your heart's about to burst. It was as if their eyes were drilled into you, their gazes judging and strict, but that might just be in your head. Sunghoon glances down at you and sees how you're playing with the hem of your dress. His hand slithers to the small of your back, catching your attention. He leans down and whispers, "Are you still nervous?" You nod. Sunghoon is unsure of what to do. "It's fine though." Your eyes wander to the two whispering elders. Sunghoon clears his throat upon seeing this, and they turn to you two. "Oh! We were just talking about how cute you both are!" They clear up, and you relax upon hearing that they don't hate you.

𝗞𝗜𝗠 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗢𝗢

You're starting to worry Sunoo too, but not the same thing you're stressing over. "Sunsun, what do I do when they wave? Do I wave back, or bow?" It's a stupid question, and he wonders what makes you worry so much. "Why are you asking that?" He asks. "I don't know." You whine, your elbows propped on each knee. "Are you really nervous?" He asks, and seats himself beside you with a worried expression. "Yes! I really want them to like me." Sunoo pats your back. "But, babe, they already love you." He chuckles, trying to lighten the mood. "How?" You ask. "There's no way I wouldn't talk about someone as perfect as you." Sunoo admits as if it was already obvious.

𝗬𝗔𝗡𝗚 𝗝𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗪𝗢𝗡

You had rushed Jungwon out of the house early to be 'on time', but it turned out to be the opposite; you two were quite early. You clutched tightly onto your purse while in the car, trying to compose yourself, knowing that these thoughts were unnecessary and too overwhelming. Jungwon had assured you that his parents were the kind type, and that there was nothing to fear, but your nerves said the opposite. "Are you sure you're okay, sweetie?" He asks, and you nod against your will. "Are you sure? I know you're nervous, and it's normal, but if it becomes too much, just tell me and we can go, yeah?" He kisses the corner of your eye, and you nod. "I will." "Alright, then let's go, it's time." He says, his grip is tight around your hand.

𝗡𝗜𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗠𝗨𝗥𝗔 𝗥𝗜𝗞𝗜

You were indifferent to this feeling of worry. Riki had told you that his parents wanted to meet you, and you thought it was kind, but deep down there was this fear of not being liked and accepted. His culture might differ from yours, and that was the root of your stress. Sure they might, or might not, be similar, you never know. You see Riki walk up to you, signalling that it was time to leave the house. "Are you ready, lovely?" He asks, and you nod. "They'll love you." He says after identifying your nervousity. "How can you be so sure?" "Because Konon adore you." You had only met his sister once, and you were just as nervous then to meet her.

perm taglist - @dollyhoon @itjengirl @saeivra @orimuraa

[mobbu-min]

☆ yummy in my tummy ☆

part two

a/n i swear everytime im about to play love and deepspace, the app needs another update. my phone storage can't keep up T0T anyways, i'm not that far in but xavier is my fave. he lowkey reminds me of silver haha. rafayel is a close second tho

includes: all of octavinelle, scarabia + pomefiore

tw mentions of eating disorder

want more? check out part one!

Octavinelle <3

⋆ Perhaps the last dorm that you want to know about your skills. But alas, your heart is vast, so even shady seamen deserves some delicious home cooked meals/treats!

⋆ How about making some extra cash? Is what Azul says after taking a bit. He does mean it. Not only would Monstro Lounge gain some more popularity after news of the Ramshackle Perfect’s home made meals/treats were being served, but he gets to spend time with you without giving his feelings away? A win-win if you asked him. As we all know, Azul does suffer from an eating disorder, as much as he tries to deny it, but somehow your cooking/baking doesn’t upset him at all. If anything, he gets so lost in the flavors that he doesn’t realize that his stomach is full and plate empty. Should he be concerned? Disgusted with himself? Lots of negative emotions begin to swell up, but when he glances at you, fully expecting the worst, he’s met with your proud smile. Happiness practically radiating off your being. And suddenly, Azul doesn’t mind the feeling of a full stomach as long as you look at him like that again.

⋆ Jade finds himself coming to you more often to ask for tips on how to cook mushrooms in different ways. Heck, he even encourages you to come out mushroom hunting with him. He’s fascinated by the way you work, seeing you mix different spices and ingredients together inspires him to do the same. He enjoys getting a glimpse at a third world, your world. It reminds him that the universe is truely a big, fascinating place. He is touched that your first thought was to bring him food, don’t worry he’ll repay the favor.

⋆ Your food is the only thing to get Floyd out of his moods! Once he smells the delicious scent of your meals/sweets, he instantly goes back to being silly and goofy! He will pester the living daylights out of you to make his favorite foods. You will know no peace! Floyd always makes his distaste clear. He’s an honest guy, what can he say? So it’s a big achievement that your food gets the Floyd pass. He will glare at anyone that dares to come near his food. This is his food, not theirs! Floyd’s a good cook himself, so like Jade, if he’s feeling particularly chummy, you might be gifted with his own unique concoction.

Scarabia <3

⋆ Scarabia is known to have the best food in the school! So it was a little jarring when you decided to give them some of your homemade food. But you really have nothing to worry about when it comes to these too.

⋆ You thought you were going to go blind with how bright Kalim's smile was. It truly could rival the sun. Because of the trust between you and Kalim, he devours it within seconds. Practically buzzing in excitement as the flavors touch his tongue. He’s not joking when he says that it’s as good as Jamil’s food. He wants to throw a party where you and Jamil have a cook off! But also just to show off your amazing cooking. You’re going to have to politely tell him that might be too much for you. Or that you only cook for special people! (subtle flirting hehe) And well Kalim is Kalim so it’s like a 50/50 chance that it won’t fly over his head. But in the case that it doesn’t, Kalim gets all warm and flustered. You know how some people get cuteness aggression and just want to squeeze said cuteness, well that’s Kalim. Instantly you're in his arms while he exclaims how much he loves you!

⋆ Jamil gave you the weirdest look, thinking that you wanted something from him. But alas! You did it out of the goodness of your heart. After getting over his initial suspicion, Jamil is incredibly thankful! I get a feeling that between everything that Jamil has to handle, he tends to eat very little most days. Just enough to get him to bedtime. So when you popped out of thin air with food, but not just any food his favorite, Jamil is touched. Though just because he’s touched, that doesn’t mean he won’t critique it! Internally of course, unless you ask. I would like to say that this would lead to cooking dates, but Jamil gives me the impression that he doesn’t like others in the kitchen while he works. Though he’s willing to try it out for you! Omg, if you make him food from the Scalding Sands, he just might tear up (lol, probably not but that’s a funny thought) but he will be incredibly touched!

Pomefiore <3

⋆ A tricky dorm to cook/bake for. A life or death situation! You must satisfy the Queen’s tastes or else you’ll face everlasting sleep! OoooOOoooooOOOoooo

⋆ Your greatest foe, the Queen herself! Does your food satisfy the Queen’s strict diet? ………partially. Listen, Vil holds himself to high regards and keeps a stern eye on his calories and where those calories come from. And while yes, you are going the right path, you also took some side quests on the way. In other words, you were like 74% to getting Vil’s approval. But fear not! For Vil is more than willing to take you under his wing! Though, Vil’s not a chef himself, so he’ll guide you in the ways of his diets. As long as you keep those in mind, Vil finds himself thoroughly enjoying anything you make him. He enjoys foods that are light on the stomach with plenty of nourishment. Vil will oftentimes find himself thinking about your food. His stomach growling in hunger. He appreciates it whenever you show up with homemade snacks. Vil will oftentimes submerge himself in his work, whether that be new roles, schoolwork or guiding his dorm mates, and forget to eat. So knowing that you're always thinking of him and coming to check up on him makes him feel all mushy and gooey inside. Goodness, the effects you have on him.

⋆ C’est délicieux! Anything and everything you give Rook is eaten with fervor. Truly enjoying and savoring every bite! For how could he let anything go to waste? You put your heart and soul into it, it would be wrong not to enjoy it with his own heart and soul. His appetite is never quenched when it comes to your food. He consumes your food with such earnestness that it's hard not to get all flustered. The compliments are never ending when it comes to him. Rook could (and has) write poetry off the delicious taste of your food. Sweet, yet a little off putting. Will jump at any occasion to speak about your food, and by extension you. Eveytime he sees you with a bag or box, Rook is skipping towards you with a little tune to each step.

⋆ Nothing could beat his Meemaw’s apple pie, but Epel supposes that yours come to a close second. Your food is the only thing Vil will turn a blind eye to, which Epel takes as an opportunity to slyly (not really) suggest new recipes for you to try. Honestly, Epel really likes your food! He gets all flustered whenever you pop with food for him. At first he was a little insulted that you made him food, thinking you were insulting his masculinity or something by babying him. But after your very honest words (and a reprimanding from Vil and Leona for making you sad), Epel understands that it was just you trying to show him that you cared for him. I can see Epel going to Jack and asking ‘Is someone giving you food manly?’ and Jack, who happened to overhear Leona telling Ruggie, casually responds with, ‘My mom always makes my dad food, so yeah…” And Epel’s all like, ‘Well damn, if Jack looks like that then his dad must be super macho.’ or something like that. Needless to say, Epel has never hit someone so hard before over food. (rip grim and ace)

[takimakiiiii]

“i wish i was who you drunk texted at midnight”

wc!: 5.2k (i’m sorry i’ve got serious problems 😔)

ollie bearman x reader + childhood friends to ?

warnings: angst asf, heartbreak, swearing, let me know if there are any more!

part 2

summary: after moving to Chelmsford you meet ollie, the two of you quickly become friends but unfortunately you fall for Ollie. he moves away for f2 and leaves you, until he’s supposed to race in Jeddah. you fly there only to gain more than what you bargained for

type: angst (cliff hanger ending IM SORRY)

a/n: this is just something I wrote because I was sick in bed the last few days, it’s super long but so hope yall like it! Also i’m sorry if it’s bad lol i am still sick and this is just something i wrote for fun to entertain myself. ALSO no hate to Estelle Ogilvy (is that how i spell her last name) i just used her for the plot of the story please don’t come after me.). The name is inspired by “drunk text” by Henry Moodie, please give it a listen it’s such a good song, enjoy xxx

They say that you should always be friends with the person you like before you start to fall for them. Well, that’s one thing you could check off the list if you looked back on your friendship with Ollie. The truth was, being in love with your best friend absolutely sucked. Something people tend to forget is that friends can break your heart too.

6 and 6 

The first time you ever met Ollie was in a library. A week prior to that you had moved to a strange town named Chelmsford. A name that 6-year-old you found difficult to pronounce, to be frank everything in the new town sounded different to what you were used to. The people there spoke with such a different accent to what you were used to, it would take you quite a while to get used to it. As you sat in the back of the taxi with your backpack at your feet, you stared out the fogged up window. The sky was a gloomy grey and the landscape seemed to be an endless plain of sad looking meadows. 

You couldn’t seem to understand why your parents would choose to move to such a sad looking place, it didn’t make any sense. The taxi soon came to a slow stop, the brakes squealing loudly. You glanced out the window hopefully, rubbing the condensation away with your sleeve. Only to be disappointed to see a boring brick building of some sort. It was an odd combination of white wooden window frames and red bricks, like something out of one of those 1600s movies your Father once showed you. You anxiously looked back to your Mother who was watching you as your Father sorted out something with the taxi driver. Upon seeing your unhappy face your Mother chuckled softly.

“I heard that there’s a library just down the street, maybe sometime this week we could visit it.” she offered. You nodded, slightly content. Reading books was something you enjoyed and maybe with a library being close by, not all was lost. 

As it turned out, that boring brick building was your new house. 

Despite having to unpack and sort adult-y things out, your Mother took you to the library just as she had promised. As you skipped down the cobbled road, your Mother held a bright yellow umbrella over your head to shield you from the rain that was pouring down from the cloudy grey sky. 

You pushed upon the heavy front door to the library which also happened to look like a sad white brick square with a pointy red roof, a depressed mushroom if you will. You halted in your steps as giant wood bookcases rose before you, shelves full of books. Never had you ever seen so many books before. In the corner there was a lady sorting things in a trolley with her back turned to you, she still hadn’t noticed you. 

“C’mon, let’s head to the kids section.” your Mother said, taking you by the hand and leading you deeper into the library. Stunned by the amount of books that filled the shelves you couldn’t help but wander off when your Mother told you to stay put while she set up a borrowing card for you. 

Luckily, the children’s section of the library was much more pleasant looking than the eerie hallways of adult books. You scanned the shelves in search of something to read, until you came to a stop. Two round brown eyes among the books blinked from the other side of the shelf, scaring you. 

It was a boy. 

You blinked back, unsure of what to do. So you did what any other 6 year old did when they believed they had found a new friend. 

“Do you want to read with me?” you abruptly asked the boy who was still staring at you with wide eyes. A moment of silence passed before he nodded slowly, the boy rounded the corner. He wasn’t much taller than you with chocolate brown hair and small freckles that spilled over his face like tiny stars. He stuck out his hand, “I’m Oliver. But my friends call me Ollie.” he greeted, a smile taking over his face. His voice sounded odd, like the taxi driver who’d driven you from the airport to your new house. Ollie reminded you of a rabbit with his two front teeth that seemed to take up over half of his face, but you didn’t say anything because your Mother told you that saying things like that wasn’t nice. 

You took his hand cautiously in yours, “I’m Y/N.” you replied slowly. He enthusiastically shook your hand, taking you by surprise as he led you to sit down on the bright coloured bean bags. You watched curiously as he picked a book off the shelf before plopping down next to you again. You peered over as he opened the book to the first page, you frowned, not recognising the book. 

“It’s a book called Where’s Wally (Where’s Waldo if you’re American). You have to find the characters, there’s Wally, Wenda, the wizard guy and Woof - that’s the dog.” Ollie explained to you, pointing to each character on the page. The initial nervousness of meeting another kid, melting away. You began to feel excited as you nodded along while Ollie continued to explain how to play. The two of you spent the next hour doing all sorts of things, talking about favourite colours, favourite animals, reading books, drawing, playing board games together. Both getting along so easily it was as if you guys had known each other forever. That was until you heard your Mother calling your name to go home. 

You stood up, looking down at Ollie who was still seated on a yellow bean bag. He blinked up at you, with those big brown eyes that had scared you only an hour earlier. “I have to go home now.” you told him, a wave of sadness passing between the two of you as you both realised your fun had come to an end. 

“That’s okay, maybe I’ll see you at school.” he suggested hopefully upon seeing your downcast face. You broke into a smile, “Okay, bye Ollie.” you waved slowly as you began to walk away. Ollie waved back with a giant grin on his face as he watched you disappear behind the wooden bookshelves. 

“Hey Mom!” you called out to your Mother as she came into view, she was chatting with the lady who you’d seen at the desk sorting books. She paused and turned to you, “Hey, I was just talking to the librarian, she was saying about how she has a son who hangs out here while she works on the weekend.” 

Putting two and two together you realised that the book lady was Ollie’s Mother. You smiled at the lady, “I was playing with Ollie, we were reading that one book, ‘Where’s  . .  .” You trailed off, racking your brain for the name of the book he’d shown you. 

“Where’s Wally?” the librarian offered, she nodded fondly. “That’s his favourite book.” You grinned up at the lady, looking back in the direction where you’d been playing with Ollie.

“Mom, am I going to the school as Ollie?” you asked, looking up at your Mother. She chuckled softly before nodding, “As a matter of fact, you are.” 

Those golden words were what made you unbelievably excited to begin at your new school. You had barely been able to sleep with the thought of seeing your new friend again, so on that Monday morning you bounded down the stairs to the kitchen. “Good morning!” you greeted both your parents, taking a seat at the dining table, legs swinging off the chair impatiently. 

“Someone’s excited for their first day of school.” your Mother hummed as she set a plate of pancakes in front of you. You nodded, “I get to see my new friend.” you replied as you stuffed your mouth with your breakfast. 

You were basically pulling your Mother through the front gates as you scanned the sea of other children in the same uniform as you. The uniform also happened to be grey, it complimented the terrible weather perfectly. Your eyes fell onto the brown haired-freckled boy from two days earlier, you ran up to him, “Hi Ollie.” you smiled. A giant grin took over the boy’s face, “Y/N!” he exclaimed, pulling you into a hug. From that day on, the two of you were inseparable. Where one of you went, the other followed right behind, Ollie helped you adjust to your new school, showing you around and never leaving you by yourself. As the years passed the two of you only became closer, though you would soon find out that that wasn’t the greatest thing. 

13 and 13

As the two of you grew into teenagers, things began to change and not always for the better. Ollie and you still remained close friends, having dinner at one another’s house on Friday’s, walking home together after school and occasionally spending afternoons playing Mario Kart with Ollie’s siblings. Your families were also extremely close now courtesy to both you and Ollie, his younger siblings becoming like your own. But the worst thing? 

You’d caught feelings for Ollie, it had been so sudden almost like it had crept up on you, taking you by surprise. You didn’t understand. It felt so wrong. 

One day out of the blue it hit you like a pile of bricks, you just couldn’t stop staring at him. Absolutely enchanted by him, his chocolate brown hair, those pretty freckles that you’d memorised on his face. 

Ollie was like a brother to you, he was your best friend, so how come you felt these things for him?

To make matters even worse for little 13 year old you, Ollie liked another girl. A girl who absolutely hated your guts. 

What had you done to her? You didn’t know. 

You and Ollie had been having a sleepover when he told you about her, her name was Estelle Ogilvy. She was gorgeous and untouchable, by far the prettiest girl you’d ever seen. You didn’t hold a candle to her and you knew it too. Ollie had been hopelessly in love with her since the start of high school when he shared science and maths class with her. Time and time again he would ramble on about her to you, completely oblivious to your feelings for him. You could only nod along wishing it was you who he was talking about. That’s just how it was, you were stuck in a bubble of unrequited love. So all you could do now was watch from afar as Ollie ran after a girl who you just knew would never like him as much as he liked her. 

15 and 15

Ollie’s karting career really took off in the last few years and you couldn’t have been prouder, those feelings for him still lingered around but you’d come to terms that he’d never like you in the same way. Because there he was, still stuck on chasing Estelle. You couldn’t blame him, and maybe that’s what you were always just supposed to be, friends. 

Yet you were jealous, something you refused to admit. Jealous of Estelle because oh how you wished to be talked about so fondly by Ollie. To always be on his mind, to be the girl he liked and would never shut up about. You still didn’t understand why you felt this way, in your mind it made absolutely zero sense. Then why did it feel so right when you were by his side, almost like you belonged there next to him? But Ollie being Ollie could just never get a hint whenever you tried to subtly let him know. It sucked because there’s nothing worse than loving someone who’ll never love you the same way. 

18 and 18 

It got worse as the years passed, your feelings for your best friend would just not go away. No matter how hard you tried, how hard you tried to find another boy to fawn over, your gaze would always fall back on Ollie. But he was dating Estelle now, he was in Formula 2 now. It almost seemed like an eternity ago when you first met him in the library just down your street. An eternity ago when you would attend his karting races, cheering the loudest for him in the stands. All of that was now in the past. You barely even saw him now that he had dropped out of school to pursue his career in Formula 2. Now all you could do now was watch from a distance as he looked the happiest you’d seen him in ages.

He was spectacular at what he did, you would watch him race on TV every week no matter what hour the race was or even if you had school the next day. 

Yet inside of you there was a giant hole, a hole that Ollie had left behind when he abandoned you. Abandoned was a bit of a stretch but it was the only word you could use to sum up what you had felt when he left. Ollie had to move to Italy for his career, news that he hadn’t even told you in person, you had to hear it from his Mother. He’d taken your hands in his at the airport as he waited to board his plane and promised you he’d stay in touch, that he’d call every week but here you were with the last time you’d spoken to him being over a month ago. 

You refused to be the first one to reach out to him, you felt like he owed you that much effort at least. So you waited  . . . and waited only for the world to keep spinning while you were stuck in the past. That was until you finally realised that you had never meant as much to Ollie as he had to you. 

19 and 19 - present day 

“Y/N! WAKE UP OR YOU’LL BE LATE FOR SCHOOL!” your Mother’s voice echoed up to your bedroom, rattling the glass in the window frames. You groaned as you groggily sat up, pulling open the curtains only to be greeted with dark overcast weather, rain pouring down outside. You rubbed your eyes, yawning as you dragged yourself out of bed. It was your second year of university studying mechanical engineering at the biggest university in Chelmsford. It proved to be difficult with its endless nights of staying up doing work but you knew it would be worth it in the end. 

Your university never failed to confuse you and make you late for class with all of its giant identical hallways. You ran down the corridors, heels clacking on the marble floor until you came to a stop at the door to where your lecture was for that day. Slipping through the door you weaved through the seats of the auditorium to find an empty seat. Luckily for you, your friend Bianca saved a seat for you. 

“Thanks.” you whispered only to be shot dirty glares by the students around you. You winced as you looked ahead at the teacher in an attempt to catch on what he was droning on about. Bianca gently nudged you, passing her phone to you. You frowned, eyebrows knitted as you looked down at the screen. A notice on Ferrari's official instagram with Ollie’s face plastered above the words “Oliver Bearman to race in Jeddah this weekend for Carlos Sainz.” 

You narrowed your eyes and huffed, passing the phone back to Bianca who smiled nervously. “What was the point of that?” you whispered, leaning closer to her. Bianca sighed, “You’re not fooling anyone, I know you still have unresolved feelings for him.” she whispered back only to get a loud shushing sound from a nearby student. 

Bianca shot them a glare before turning back to you, “You have to go, I don’t care what you say. You are going. This is his Formula 1 debut, whether you’re still friends with him or not you’ve got to be there for him.” she whispered-shouted, looking at you sternly. You sighed, leaning back into your chair, shaking your head. 

“It’s not the same anymore. He’s clearly forgotten about me, the last time we spoke was last year and he’s been back home 4 times in the last 12 months.” 

Silence hung in the air, only the voice of the teacher rambling on and on about something you still hadn’t caught on about. 

“That Estelle girl, she’s clearly using him. You were his best friend, surely that means something to you both.” Bianca tried again but it wasn’t any use. There was no purpose in bringing up something that you both had clearly tried so hard  to forget about. 

So then why were you here booking a flight to Jeddah to watch your old best friend debut in Formula 1? 

It was something you couldn’t answer and didn’t want to. 

The thing that you hated the most is that you didn’t even think twice before booking those tickets. 

How could you care so much about a person who had so blatantly forgotten about you?

Deep down you knew the answer, it was because to you Ollie was like your home. He was the first person to make you feel like you actually belonged somewhere, he never abandoned you to eat lunch alone at school, he never cancelled plans once you made them, he was a good person, a good friend. 

Or at least he was. 

Were you insane? The answer was yes, yes you were insane. Being here was so crazy; it nearly made you want to turn around and jump on the next flight back home. You were standing in line to go through the gates when you heard someone call your name. You secretly hoped it was Ollie but much to your disappointment it was . . . Arthur?

Ollie had introduced you to Arthur back when they had raced in Formula 3 together. You hadn’t seen him in forever. 

“Arthur?” you questioned as he pulled you into a hug, you hugged him back before pulling away, still unable to believe it was him. 

“I was about to ask what you’re doing here but that would be dumb.” you confessed, only noticing now the massive crowd that was surrounding the two of you. Arthur chuckled before nodding in the direction of the gate, “C’mon, I can get you in, you’ll be my guest.” 

“Oh, you don’t have to-” you began but Arthur was already pushing you through the gates. Walking back onto a race track was like taking a breath of fresh air after being in a car for a long time. You used to accompany Ollie to all of his karting races each weekend in Chelmsford, so being in the stands had become like a second home to you. 

“Are you here for Ollie?” Arthur asked as you walked in the direction of the motorhomes. You caught yourself before you could answer too irrationally, “No, I’m just here to watch the race.” you shrugged, realising how dumb that sounded as soon as it left your mouth. No good person would fly all the way to Saudi Arabia to watch a race if there was a Grand Prix in their own country.  If you wanted to “just watch a race” you could’ve watched it on TV or gone to the Silverstone GP. Arthur only hummed, you knew he had already caught on, it was so obvious it made you want to dig a hole and jump in. 

“Anyways,” you quickly said, eager to move onto a different topic.

“Anyways.” Arthur agreed, looking at you, eyebrows raised. “You can’t fool me, I’ve known it since the moment I met you.”

You let out an exasperated sigh, “What am I going to say to him?” you asked, looking to Arthur for help. He shrugged, “No clue but you might want to think of something quickly because he’s walking over right now.”

“Y/N?” 

You blinked as you came face to face with the person you wanted to see so badly for the last year and now that you were here facing him it felt like all the air in you had gotten sucked right out. He looked  the same since the last time you saw him. In the last year you wanted to hate Ollie so much but it was impossible because you still loved him and that was the big terrible truth that you refused to admit. 

“Hi. Ollie.” you said, to not let the jumble of words that you’ve kept in since the last time you saw him spill out. Arthur sent you a quick salute, “Gotta go, I’ll see you afterwards, Y/N.” and with that he left you with Ollie in silence. 

“What are you doing here?” Ollie finally asked, he was acting so . . .  so normal. As if nothing had changed between the two of you.

“I’m here because I’m your number 1 fan, remember?” you scoffed, looking up at him. A reminder of the time when you were both 10, Ollie gifted you a t-shirt at Christman with the words: “Ollie’s No.1 fan.” plastered on it for you to wear to his karting races. It was sure to be buried deep in your wardrobe somewhere. 

“Yeah,” he breathed, “Yeah you are.” guilt written all over his face. 

“Why’d you leave me then? Tell me the truth, did I do something wrong? Was I too normal for you?” you asked, questions pouring out of you. 

“We were best friends, how could you just leave me like that? Do I mean nothing to you? Because you were everything to me, my best friend, the first person who made me feel like I actually mattered to someone, so tell me, why did you abandon me?” 

Silence hung in the air as you stared up at Ollie. You wanted answers, perhaps it would be the only thing that would let you move on from him. He looked away, unable to meet your gaze. This was so. . . so unfair. You wanted to yell, scream at him even so he could feel even a fraction of the pain you’d felt in the past year. 

“So that’s it? You don’t even have an explanation?” you asked him, your voice shaking with anger it made your throat ache as you blinked back tears. 

“I waited and waited for you to call me, to even send a message but that was a mistake. You’ll never love me in the same way that I love you.” 

Hot tears rolled down your cheeks, Ollie finally meeting your eyes as the three simple words left your lips. 

You’ll never love me in the same way that I love you.

The world stopped like everything had been put on pause as you realised your mistake. You felt like you’d gotten hit on the head with a cricket bat. 

“I have to go.” is all that left your mouth as you turned around. The ground was moving like a spinning wheel - a blurry mess of colours. It made you sick to your stomach as you walked away, your cheeks flushed hot and your forehead sticky with sweat. Ollie didn’t even call out for you, nor run after you for an explanation because it was so blatantly clear what you’d just confessed to him. 

You wished you could hate him, hate the fact that he’d left you, forgotten you like an old stuffed toy, you hated that he didn’t love you. 

You sat on the curb, clutching your knees outside of the entrance to the racetrack wallowing in self-pity. Wiping away tears that just kept falling down your face much to your distaste. The sun was beginning to disappear behind the buildings, the sky now a deep shade of orange. You stared at your feet, it was dumb, you should’ve known that coming here to Jeddah was a mistake. Ollie had moved on, something that you hadn’t done in the last year. You felt so stupid, why did you believe you could repair your friendship?

Why did you-

“Excuse me?” a voice interrupted your train of thought, you quickly wiped your tears and looked up to see Arthur standing beside you, a pitiful smile on his face. You looked away, “What do you want?” you grumbled, folding your arms across your chest bitterly. Arthur sat down beside you, watching you closely as you stared at the trees in the distance. He sighed, “The race is about to start and Ollie’s not coming out of his driver room. Estelle said she’d be here but she’s not and he’s locked himself in.” 

The words hung heavy in the air, “And what does that have to do with me?” you asked flatly. You knew exactly what he meant. But you weren’t going to do that, you were done with Ollie and everything to do with him. 

“You know exactly what it has to do with you. Did you really think Ollie forgot about you that easily? You’re dumber than I thought.” he quipped unhelpfully. 

“Thanks,” you muttered miserably, Arthur winced. 

“What I meant is that you can’t give up this easily, you and I both know how stupid Ollie can be sometimes.” 

You chuckled softly, letting a tiny smile creep onto your face. Arthur wasn’t wrong. When you and Ollie were both 8 you invited him over for Easter to make coloured eggs. It resulted in 20 cracked eggs on the kitchen tiles when Ollie accidentally knocked them off the bench. The two of you had stared at the mess on the ground before bursting out laughing until you were both in tears. It was safe to say that you both spent the next 2 hours scrubbing the tiles and the yolk that had stained the grout in between them. 

“Yeah.” you said softly, looking at the sun that had been swallowed by the top of the palm trees, the stars in the sky beginning to appear as you sat in the light underneath a lamp post. 

“So?”

“Okay, I’ll get him out of the room but after that I’m out of here. I want to go home.” 

Arthur gave you a quick thumbs up as you raised your hand to knock gently on the door to the driver’s room. There wasn’t a reply, only dead silence and that’s when you heard it, crying from inside the room. 6-year-old you would’ve kicked down the door and done anything to get to your best friend. But here you stood outside the room, sending hopeless glances at Arthur who was standing behind you. 

“Ollie?” you called out hesitantly, the crying halted and there was another long moment of silence. You pressed your ear up against the door, waiting for an answer. 

“Yeah?” his shaky voice replied, you breathed a sigh of relief. You turned around, beckoning Arthur to leave you both, he only nodded, mouthing ‘OK’ as he slipped down the hallway. Turning back to the driver’s room you took a deep breath in, you didn’t want to go in. You didn’t think you could face him after what happened earlier. 

“You came,” he said as your hand rested on the handle of the door but there was resistance, it was still locked. 

“Of course, are you okay?” you asked, immediately regretting asking as soon as it left your mouth. You cursed yourself silently as you awaited Ollie’s answer. Soft sniffles came from the other side of the door, “Yeah.” he finally replied quietly but loud enough for you to hear from the other side of the door.

What were you supposed to say to get him out of the driver’s room?

“Everyone’s waiting for you, you can’t stay in there forever.” you gently reminded him, sighing as you sat down, back leaning up against the door. There was another long moment of silence as you rested your head on the door, stretching your legs out for comfort. 

“I don’t think I can do it.” he said, taking you by surprise. The Ollie you’d known wasn’t afraid of anything, he was confident in almost everything he did, almost it seemed. 

“Oliver, you’re being crazy. You are by far the most talented driver I’ve ever seen.” you told him, staring at the roof of the building as you heard a sigh from the other side of the door. “You’re just saying that because you’re my girlfriend, Estelle.” 

You froze as if you’d just been stabbed by icicles, Ollie thought you were Estelle. 

Of course. He’d been expecting her, Arthur had told you before. You scoffed to yourself quietly, you would’ve stood up and left if it wasn’t the fact that you were here to get Ollie out of the driver’s room he had oh so nicely locked himself in. You let out a soft sigh as you racked your brain for what you should say to him. 

“I’m not. It’s the truth, Ollie.” you told him with a heavy heart, feeling as if you were just setting yourself up to get your heart broken all over again. You took a deep breath in, “You are such an amazing driver it’s literally insane, not only that but you’re by far the kindest, most selfless person I know. It’s crazy that you think you can’t do this, because I know that you can. Ferrari chose you to drive for them for a reason, they know what you’re capable of, everyone else does too. I see you and you’re extraordinary, you have this spark inside you that’s amazing. And . . . maybe that’s the reason why I love you. I always have, and when I had the chance I should’ve told you but I didn’t because your friendship has always meant more to me than my own feelings.” you let out a shaky breath, words weighing down on your chest.

“You’re a good person, Ollie. You’ve earned a chance to show the world just how great and insanely talented you are, are you really going to throw it away?” 

You blinked back tears, who knew you could get so emotional after giving such a life changing speech?

You rubbed your eyes gingerly and cleared your throat, allowing yourself to breathe. It was time to leave now, Ollie would have realised by now that it was you who was speaking to him and not Estelle. As you began to get up, leaning against the door for support you heard a click!

Oh shit, was the only thought that went through your mind as you lost your footing and fell backwards, the door frame offering you no help at all as you grasped at it helplessly. You stared up at Ollie as you laid at his feet, a million thoughts racing through your mind. He was in his fireproofs with his race suit tied around his waist as he looked down at you, eyebrows knitted. There were tear stains on his flushed cheeks as he stared at you with those wide brown eyes you’d seen among the books all those years ago. 

“Y/N?” 

a/n: sorry if it was so quick and rushed i just wanted to post something! Thank you if you got the end, ik it was super long for no reason, so thank you! Please let me know what you think, likes and reblogs are always appreciated, thank you and have an amazing day xx

[aothotties]

take a break - E. Yeager

You were in the living room watching your favorite show when you heard your boyfriend, Eren, sigh loudly. You got up from the couch and walked to the room to check in on him 

“Hey love, still studying?” you asked 

“Yes, unfortunately” he responded while still looking at his textbook 

“You should take a break, your brain must be exhausted” you said to him 

“Yeah i guess” he said with a sigh 

You walked over to him and closed his textbook. You sat in his lap and started running your fingers through his hair. His eyes fluttered shut at the feeling of your nails running along his scalp. 

“You still have your notes from last semester?” he said, breaking the silence

“Are you seriously worried about studying still? This is a break you're supposed to be relaxing” you laughed 

“I know but i might need your old notes when i start studying again” he said 

You whispered “okay” to him and continued playing in his hair, you knew how much he loved it and it always relaxed him.

You planted a soft kiss on his lips and his eyes opened to look at you

“You're so beautiful” he said in a whisper

You smirked at him and looked him dead in the eye 

“You know, i can really help you with anatomy” you said seductively 

“This is microbiol–” he was cut off by your lips crashing onto his 

Once your tongue slipped in his mouth he understood exactly what you meant. His hands harshly grabbed your ass and you let out a gasp. His grip tightened as he moved you back and forth, grinding you on his clothed dick. You felt the wetness pooling in your panties as you continued to grind and makeout with him. His dick hardened under you and you felt it under your thin shorts.

Something overcame Eren in that moment, he needed you right then and there. He pushed you off his lap and bent you over the desk he was studying at. He shoved your shorts and panties down and used his finger to slide up and down your slit. You threw your head back when the tip of his finger grazed your now swollen clit. 

“Fuck- so wet for me” he said 

All you could get out were soft moans. He slid down his shorts and boxers and positioned his leaking tip at your hole. He glided his tip up and down your slit to gather wetness before sliding completely in. He groaned as he slipped past your walls deep into your cunt.

Eren was so big. His dick reached so deep inside you and stretched you out so good. You gripped the edge of the desk as he started moving in and out of you. You could feel every vein on his dick and his mushroom tip slid right on your g-spot. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you bit your lip. He was making you feel like heaven at this moment. 

He gradually picked up the pace and you started to feel his tip at your cervix. You reached behind you but before your hand could reach his abdomen, he grabbed your wrist and twisted your arm behind your back. 

You felt yourself getting hot and your orgasm was close. Your walls clenched around his and he hissed at the feeling 

“Yeah, about to cum for me?” he asked as he bent down to talk directly in you ear

You nodded your head in response. Drool was pooling out your mouth onto the desk and the papers he had spread out on it. The desk was knocking into the wall from the force of his thrusts. 

You reached your climax and came on Eren’s thighs. He threw his head back when he felt the added wetness. His pace quickened even more and he was now beating up your poor cunt. Your moans filled the room and Eren loved the sound of you saying his name over and over. 

“-ren, mmm- right there” you moaned 

He grabbed your hair and pulled it tightly. Your back arched even more causing him to reach even deeper inside you. The pleasure became all too much and all you could see was white. You were closing in on your second orgasm and he could feel it. He never let up, he kept going until you spilled on him again

He groaned loudly behind you and slapped your ass. You knew this meant he was close. He let go of your hair and both hands were on your waist. He held you still while he chased his own high. He reached his orgasm after a few more strokes and emptied himself inside you, filling you to the point it leaked out of you

He took a deep breath and slid completely out of you. He put your panties in shorts back on even with his cum dripping out of you. He got his shorts back on and sat back down and pulled you into his lap. He kissed you cheek and moved your hair out of your face 

“Thank you, i needed that” he said

“Anytime baby” you said in response

You went back to caressing his scalp and he relaxed for a while before getting back to his studies.

Rachel

[toxycodone]

Monster Fucker's Journal : Introduction

ship. laios touden x reader, reader x various monsters

chapter content: nsfw, masturbation + desc of monster sexual organs. reader is gender neutral but there is references to a clit and getting wet.

read on ao3 | click here for masterlist | next chapter (coming soon!)

Holding the wooden bowl up to your lips, you take the last sip of the broth, savoring the taste on your tongue.

Goddamn. Monster food is tasty. Never in your life did you think you'd be trying Giant Scorpion hot pot, but you're thanking every deity watching from above you're now able to say you tried it.

This is much better than Laios's odd first attempt at cooking these creatures. Despite his amassment of knowledge, cooking does not seem to be one of them.

Despite Marcille's claims of food poisoning and incessant whining, you still decided to give the meal Senshi prepared a taste, and you're glad you did. The flavor was rich, yet earthy...reminding you of the nice soup served at that tavern on the surface.

But this one was better. Much better. It's actually made from monsters! How fascinating!

Laios Touden thought he was the only monster lover around, often regarding himself as an outcast. That is, until he met you. You started out as a usual recruit--someone experienced enough to hold their own but green enough to not punish his wallet. The longer you spent alongside the blonde, the more his interests started to grow on you. The most prominent being monsters.

He seemed to grow quite fond of you as well, sharing his thoughts and theories with you in the little amount of spare time you shared during rest hours and between missions. Listening to him speak about the creatures always lifted the burden of the day off your shoulders. Laios is always so passionate when you get him going. His eyes glimmer with interest, tone so full of ardent affection--you can't help but watch with a lovesick grin.

You wonder if he could feel the same type of way for a person. That person hopefully being you.

Nearby, Laios sits on his bedroll. His large hands slap against the broad midriff of his armor, cauisng the sound of hollow metal to resonate in your ears. It snaps you out of your thoughts.

"That was good!"

His face is curled into a smile, a light flush on his face. You take a moment to appreciate the view. From the corner of your eye, you spot Chilchuck peering at you with a raised brow. Your eyes dart away, focusing elsewhere.

There's a nudge at your shoulder.

"Hey." Laios regards you with wide, curious smile. "How'd you like it? Good, right?"

You nod your head, then explain how different--yet delicious, the food was. In the back of your mind, you always wondered how monsters tasted, or hell, if they were even edible. Today, you can mark that off your bucket list.

His smile spreads from ear to ear now. If anything could radiate pure sunshine, it would be this man.

"Glad to hear it! You know..." He pulls a notebook from below the collar of his armor. It's comical enough to make you snort lightly. "I should take some notes."

Laios begins to scribble down what he's learned so far about the anatomy of walking mushrooms, giant scorpions, and of course--how to prepare them for consumption.

That journal...

Its cover is frayed, edges worn from overuse. There's a plethora of dog eared pages that sport tears and colorful tabs alike. Each page is covered top to bottom in notes you've been dying to read.

Laios promised a while ago let you take a look at it. However, he always seems to be too busy writing to ever give you the chance. Just looking at it makes you sigh. Oh, how you'd kill to get a peek into his mind. You're sure there's quite a bit of knowledge to be found perusing those pages.

The scribbling stops. The man shuts his book, before setting it back into its resting place inside its armor.

"Well, we should check out the path ahead. The first floor might not be too dangerous, but one should always take dungeon crawling seriously." Laios stands up, stretching a bit. The other party members move with him, but he holds out a hand.

"You guys stay here. Let your food disgest. It shouldn't take too long for me to check the path ahead."

The smile on his face is gentle, genuine. You don't understand how others have grown to ostracize the man. He's the most caring person you've met since arriving on the island.

Chilchuck and Marcille seem more relieved than anything. The two gorged themselves on monster food, so the rest is likely well needed. That speaks especially for the elf. Her stamina isn't the best, so traversing the dungeon right away on a full stomach seems like a recipe for disaster. Senshi gives a gentle nod and moves instead to pack his cooking supplies.

Laios picks up his sword and moves to the exit. You stand up too now, grabbing your things and following after him.

"Hm?" Laios, unsuspecting of your presence, is surprised. "Don't you want to stay with the others? I can handle this alone."

You shake your head. Despite his claims, you're not letting Laios venture out by himself. Plus, what if he spots a cool monster? If you can't peek at his journal, then you're gonna gather just as much firsthand experience as he has.

And the blonde doesn't fight you on the topic. Unbeknownst to you, your presence is always a welcome one to him. You both venture into the corridor leading to the second floor.

No matter how much time passes, it's always difficult to get used to the dim lighting within the dungeon. Gentle torchlight illuminates your path, which you're thankful for, but also a bit miffed about. Couldn't they have picked something larger? Brighter? If you were the Dungeon Lord, you would've replaced them with something different by now.

Wait...who the hell is lighting all those things in the first place?

Wait. Not important.

Instead, you focus on following in Laios's heavy footsteps. His leather boots tread lightly on the stone floor, barely echoing along the similarly crafted walls. There's a little tinkering noise from his breastplate, which you can only assume is the journal moving around in his armor. Thank goodness you're on a higher floor. That noise would be a dead giveaway for a monster.

This is probably the least dangerous hallway in the dungeon, no traps or other dangers to be found beside the occasional slime or walking mushroom. However, your party leader always feels the need to tread safely.

The familiar stale air surrounds your senses. To others, it's sickening. To you, it's homey. You're in your element now.

Laios halts, almost causing you to bump into him. Before you can ask a question, he turns to face you.

"I'm gonna head down the staircase real quick, then our little expedition should be over."

You nod. It's a cramped space. There's no need for you to both go down. If he needs any backup, you'll only be a shout away.

Before descending, he reaches in his armor, then pulls out the journal. Laios rests it in your hands.

"Can you take care of this?" He asks, almost bashfully. "I don't wanna make too much noise going down to the second floor. Or risk getting it damaged if a monster is waiting by the entrance..."

God, his expression is cute. He cases so much about this personal journal...why is he so adorable? Of course you'll protect it.

With an expression of gratitude, Laios takes off down the staircase, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Its a bit of a bummer. You've been down this corridor without any sight of a monster. Hell, the entire first floor had more action. What's the deal with this place...?

Then, you're reminded of the book in your hand.

Now, you know you should be keeping a watchful eye for monsters and listening out for a distress call from Laios...but things have been so boring. There's no harm in a little light reading, right? Just while you're on your lonesome…

You thumb through the pages, starting off at his first real notes on monsters. First is walking mushrooms. You can tell these don’t interest him too much, the notes are lacking. Which is unsurprising. Laios tends to enjoy more complicated monsters. These bumbling creatures have never seemed to truly catch his interest like others. There appears to be a few notes about him theorizing their anatomy–wondering if they reproduce via spores and if said spores are dangerous. It’s interesting to think about in itself. Maybe these monsters could actually be scary if given those attributes. Laios might be onto something here.

The next page is about slimes. Some of the ink is smudged and weathered due to age. However, there’s new notes on the page in fresh ink. They document Senshi’s explanation of slime anatomy and how to cook them. There’s simple fun facts that Laios has shared with you thrice before, and the reminder makes you smile. Most of your reading is spent reminiscing on these factoids, before you hit the section titled “Reproduction”. 

It’s childish, but heat rises to your face as you press on.

The things about slimes seem to be lacking in solid truth. It’s mainly just Laios’s personal theories of their breeding habits. Asexual reproducing is one. Then there’s something about an exchange of genetic material between slimes. Apparently, Laios once found what appeared to be slime eggs in the remains of a heated bathhouse. It appears they search for a place warm and damp to lay their eggs. They likely have some sort of appendage used to lay their eggs in a safe place like this, similar to a snail.

Another note follows, something you wonder if Laios wanted to keep private?

‘What if they lay their eggs in live hosts?’

The thought makes you rub your thighs together. This is wrong. Weird. You should not feel wet at the thought of this. But you persist, letting a hand climb under your waistband. What Laios doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

‘It would explain their behavior. Slimes would grow docile as they look for a host to incubate their eggs. Ideal places to lay are rare in the dungeon, but other creatures (including adventurers), are plenty…”

Your fingers circle over your clit. You knew you liked monsters, but not to this extent…the idea of this being odd steadily starts to fade as you stroke yourself. It’s been so long since you’ve had a proper orgasm. Your body is desperate for anything at this point.

‘They likely function similar to other monsters that accommodate their prey (i.e.: “man eating” plants). Slime secretions have been used as various forms of lubrication. Perhaps during their breeding season, they contain elements that heighten arousal. That would inspire potential vessels to be more willing to their intrusion.’

It’s enthralling. The idea of a creature helping you reach a peak of ecstasy you never considered before. Your movements pick up the pace as you read on, driving you closer and closer to orgasm. As much as you wish you could make noise, you’d rather be caught dead than let Laios witness you getting off to his journal.

Would the creature treat you gently? Teasing you before eventually coaxing an intense orgasm out of you? Or would it relentlessly pound away, trying to stretch you out to accommodate its eggs and leave you a sloppy mess? 

You haven't felt this hot in a long time. It’s embarrassing how quickly you’re about to cum in your pants over something so vile.

Maybe it would cover your whole body in secretions, making your body feel fuzzy with delight, before toying with your clit. Sucking, teasing, running over the flesh until–

A wet, sticky drop lands on your head.

You’d be terribly grossed out if the dungeon hadn’t jaded you already. If anything, you’re more shocked to be snapped out of your lust induced haze. Your peer up at the ceiling to be greeted by an all too familiar monster.

This slime isn't like the one that attacked Marcille earlier at all. It's larger. And an odd color. Why is it pink....?

Your thoughts linger to Laios's journal. Didn't he make a note about this? 

‘During certain times become more docile and take on a pinkish hues. It’s theorized this may be due to a breeding season. It is unclear how slimes reproduce.’

You have an idea. 

A gross, unorthodox one. But it’s an idea nonetheless.

You have to coax the slime down here. You jump up, then wave at it, but the creature doesn’t seem to notice, causing you sigh out in frustration.

Another droplet lands on your head. You grit your teeth. This is your one chance to accomplish your newfound dream. And you’re not gonna let it go to waste. But how the hell are you gonna get this thing down without startling it into attacking you?

Wait...what exactly did that dwarf say? Slimes are attracted to noise, right? They can see your exhale, and attack when you exhale....

So you shout.

"LAIOS!"

And the slime drops from the ceiling, landing on your foot.

Just as planned, your knight in scathed, dull armor comes rushing down the hall, calling your name.

"Are you alri--?" Laios's golden eyes widen when he spots the slime. His weapon is unsheathed in a quick movement, ready to defend you against the monster with Senshi's prior slaying instructions fresh on his mind.

"Wait!"

Before Laios can bring his blade down on the creature, you hold out your hand. He ceases, confusion settling on his features.

"It's not harming me. I-if it wanted to kill me, it would've gone for my head to suffocate me, right?"

Rationalizing this seems impossible. But if anyone were to listen to your desire to fuck monsters, it had to be Laios Touden. So you're putting all your faith in him now. You've yet to judge him, so you hope he holds the same regard for you.

"I...guess." The sword in his hands lowers ever so slightly. It scrapes a shallow mark in the ground as the man steps closer. His head tilts to the side, brows furrowing as he studies the situation at hand. "So you don't want me to kill it?"

You're certain Laios will just take this as you having a healthy respect for monsters, then shoo it away to forgo violence. It takes a lot of mental fortitude, but you swallow the lump in your throat and continue.

"It's interesting behavior....you know, it is breeding season. Which is why they're more active as of late."

The slime starts to creep up your pant leg. Something appendage-like sticks out from its front, prodding at your calves and inner thighs as it makes it's way further.

Your breath catches in your throat. This is really happening.

Laios seems to notice what's going on. A hint of pink tints his pale cheeks, hands making their way to raise his sword once more.

"Laios."

He ceases his movements once more. And you seize your chance.

"Why don't we just let this happen?"

a/n. hey!! if you made it to the end thanks for reading <3 I'm really excited for this series and I hope you enjoyed it!

please consider liking/reblogging/leaving a comment *prayer hands emojis* engagement feeds me (along with other writers! so pls show some love <3)

[sanyu-thewitch05]

F! Yuu’s Dad in Twisted Wonderland pt. 3

Pt.4

Books 3, 4, &5 were when your dad was stressing.

🦀: Why do Ace and Deuce have sea mushroom thingies on their heads? They-They made a deal with a boy so they can cheat their midterms, but everyone else but you cheated as well so they’re stuck in a contract of servitude? Yeah no, don’t get involved in their foolishness-oh, damn it! The cat has a sea mushroom too! Well, I guess we’ll find a way to fix it.

When all the shenanigans happen and Leona eventually turns Azul’s contracts into sand and he overblots, your dad is there to witness it.

🦀:Already five in the evening and the boy ain’t right.

He watches you and your friends beat Azul out of his overblot and watches the aftermath.

Safe to say, your father makes you stay away from Azul, Jade, and Floyd.

🦀: Hold on, where are you going and why do you have a basket?

🦐: I’m going mushroom picking with Jade.

🦀: Is Jade that one that always looks high and acts erratic?

🦐: No, that’s his twin brother, Floyd.

🦀: Either way, don’t go with him. He probably does shrooms.

Which leads you to Book 4

Your father does not like Kalim.

🦀: Hey! Hey! Hands off! You are way too touchy with my daughter!

☀️: But she’s my best friend!

🦀: You just met her five minutes ago.

🐍: Kalim, don’t go around hug tackling people you just met.

🦀: You keep him in check. I like that.

Your father becomes the “I like that” lady from the Simpsons.

🦀: “You run a tight ship. I like that.” “You keep the boys in check. I like that.” “You got some intelligence in you. I like that.”

Eventually Jamil overblots, and Jamil doesn’t even bother hypnotizing your father. He respects him that much. Which extends to Yuu.

🐍: So, what’s your world like?

You sneak away into the desert to find your friends. Your dad is at Scarabia small talking with Jamil.

Jamil will forever have an ego boost that your father respects him more than Kalim.

Afterwards, when the VDC start to loom over NRC, he’s not opposed to you joining(it’s his chance to get video of you dancing and singing).

That is until he finds out the team is staying in Ramshackle during the training period.

🦀: No! Absolutely not! You’re not having 7 boys living in this dorm with you! Especially that Kalim and Ace boy!

🦐: Dad! If we win we could use the money to renovate Ramshackle!

🦀:…..fine. But they’re staying downstairs.

Your father catches a glimpse of Rook’s photobook. He legit tries calling the police.

Boy shenanigans ensue

❤️: Man I’m beat from practice.

🦐:So am I. I’m taking a nap. Wanna join me?

And for once, Ace actually gets to sleep next to you in a bed. Then it gets ruined by everyone else but Vil joining in. It turned into a group nap on the bed.

Your father finds out and he’s not pleased.

🦀: GET OUT! And Yuu, we’re having a review of the puberty talk when it comes to boys.

When the VDC’s happen, he gets a recording of Yuu dancing and singing. Unfortunately that was ruined after the revelation that Vil tried to murder Neige.

🦀: Yuu, we’ve gotta kick these people out! One of them tried to kill someone. These boys are not right!

🦐: Dad! It’s all good! He’s back to normal now and we won the competition which means Ramshackle can be renovated!

🦀: I worry about you. I really do. I never should have let you read Having Adeline.

🦐: *gasp* They are perfectly good friends!

🦀: Oh, really? Riddle has anger issues, Cater is just Cater, Trey probably has a fetish for teeth, Deuce is too pugnacious, and Ace keeps trying to sneak into bed with you.

🦐: But-

🦀: Leona is a grown man who needs to get his life and inferiority complex together, Jack is…actually he’s ok. Ruggie’s such a con artist he would takeover Atlanta. Vil’s vain and murderous, Rook is a French stalker, Epel has masculinity issues. Ortho is a robot boy who’s too complicit in his brother’s shenanigans and Idia is an otaku creep who looks like he constantly needs a bath or else he’ll look like a zombie.

🦐: But-

🦀: Kalim’s too hands on with you, too oblivious to his surroundings, and has no boundaries, Jamil’s ok, something seems off with Lilia, Sebek is going to make you go deaf, Malleus is a creep and under no circumstances should you engage with him, and Silver is alright.

🦐: Why didn’t you mention Octavinelle?

🦀: Did I need to say anything about them to make them look bad?

🦐: No….no you did not.

[stardewremixed]

Misc Headcanon

I'm back after a long hiatus! Here's some fun misc headcanon for you from our favorite Stardew Valley friends.

Emily designs the Farmer's wedding attire. She particularly loves touching up vintage wedding gowns.

Sebastian works on motorcycles at a local shop just outside of town on the weekends for extra cash.

Shane seems like the type who would work on the JojaMart truck because Morris is too cheap to send out for repairs. After the market closes, Shane picks up work at the same local shop outside town that Seb works at on occasion.

Marnie absolutely should upgrade and run a full dairy - selling gourmet cheeses and specialty flavored milks (to compete with Pierre) at festivals. Jas is a fan of strawberry milk (as are Maru and Haley). Abigail, Jodi, and Evelyn enjoy chocolate milk. Harvey would buy coffee flavored ice cream from Marnie.

Alex would repair Vincent's and Jas' bikes. He'd take the kids on a bike ride on Sunday afternoons so Jodi and Marnie can get some alone time. Sometimes Penny or Sam tag along. Sam would bring his guitar to play some tunes for the kids (maybe a little ukulele - look no hands!). Penny would pack healthy snacks.

Harvey and Gus go to the same barber shop.

Maru and Sebastian like to take apart computers and put them back together again for fun.

Pam would absolutely go dumpster diving.

Haley has a little karaoke machine that she loaned to Jas.

Vincent is a budding paleontologist. Gunther loans him picture books about dinosaurs.

Harvey has a whole collection of ties he inherited from his grandpa.

Leah has a mushroom terrarium.

Once Pam gets laid off as a bus driver, she picks up infrequent work at a beauty salon. She's actually pretty good at hair styling and even manicures when she's not drinking. She used to give Penny pedicures when she was a kid.

Harvey has a little toy doctor kit in the lobby for the kids when they come in for check-ups.

Emily would absolutely want to do the whole ugly Christmas sweater thing. Haley hates it but might agree if she could sew a little vintage camera patch onto the sleeve.

Sebastian and Maru used to have glow-in-the-dark stars on their ceilings as kids.

Alex rents movies on Friday nights to watch with George.

Haley absolutely played with Barbies as a kid. Emily critiqued the unrealistic physique and made her own clothes for the dolls.

Harvey still has his walkman from his high school days.

Elliott absolutely had an etch-a-sketch as a boy.

Abigail is the queen of beer pong! Oh and she is totally lifting Seb for a keg stand.

Sam was a bike messenger when he lived back in the city. He also occasionally delivered pizzas.

Gus hosts a weekly poker game in the back room at the Stardrop Saloon. Willy regularly cleans him out. Elliott likes to join, but is a real bad card player.

Robin and Demetrius crush at Trivial Pursuit.

Sometimes Leah and Elliott battle it out over Scrabble. Occasionally, Harvey joins in.

JojaMart has a little laundromat in the back. Jodi takes her clothes here as does Pam.

[mapofsouthdakota]

Plated

The LADS kitchen AU

The knives are sharp. The heat’s real. Love has no place here—so why does it keep showing up?

Synopsis: In a heat-soaked kitchen where pressure simmers and perfection is law, you stand shoulder to shoulder with a team of brilliant misfits—each carrying their own scars, secrets, and fire.

From Caleb’s controlled intensity to Sylus’s velvet power plays, Rafayel’s chaotic beauty, Zayne’s surgical focus, and Xavier’s quiet steadiness, every shift cuts deeper than the last.

This is a story of tension, taste, and slow-burn hearts—where trust is plated, feelings are forbidden, and love might just be the most dangerous ingredient.

Details: 7700ish words. An AU (check the link for my initial ramble) where you suddenly find yourself working as a chef alongside the LIs from LADS. Non MC! Reader. Heavy inspiration from The Bear (the series). Anything can happen in this kitchen, so I’m marking this as an 18+ series—just to be safe. This chapter includes: banter, fluff, drama, stress, and flirting coming at you from all directions. Potential harem drama? The heat is on, peepz, and we’re just getting started!

Tags: @gavin3469

Chapters: chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four

Entrée | Pilot

“Behind! Corner! Hot pan!—Chef, the risotto—”

The kitchen is alive. Screaming, sizzling, blistering alive. Steam curls up from every pan, mixing with the staccato beat of knives and the shout of orders as the Friday dinner service slams into full throttle. The ticket printer hasn’t stopped squealing since 5:57 PM. Now it’s past 6:30, and the air is thick with garlic, heat, and suppressed rage.

You’re locked in on sauté—flames licking your wrists, sweat sliding down your spine. Your risotto’s clinging too hard to the pan, the duck breast needs one more minute, and someone moved your goddamn ladle again.

“Two risottos—truffle on one, mushroom pulled from the other, one duck rare, fire it now,” Caleb calls from expo, voice like tempered steel. The kind of voice people move for without question.

Meanwhile, from pastry, a familiar voice cuts in.

“Puh-lease, someone get this plate out of my sight before I commit artistic homicide,” Rafayel croons, holding up a dessert that looks more like sculpture than food. He’s already halfway draped across his workstation like a model mid-photoshoot.

“You’re not plating anything until it’s on a ticket,” Zayne says, not even looking up.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware you were in charge of my inspiration,” Rafayel purrs, eyes gleaming as he turns to you. “What do you think, Flame? Should I plate with edible flowers or the blood of my enemies?”

Zayne doesn’t miss a beat. “Try plating on time.”

Rafayel gasps, full offense. “You wound me.”

“You wound my sanity.”

A beat. Then you actually laugh—shaky, stressed, but real.

Rafayel winks at you. Zayne sighs and returns to his tickets like nothing happened.

Across the kitchen, Xavier appears beside you like a silent blessing. He slides a bowl of diced shallots next to your elbow, then disappears again, back into the whirl of motion—organizing the fridge, grabbing fresh herbs, restacking the clean pans. He doesn’t speak unless necessary. Doesn’t cook, thank god. But the second you need something, he’s already holding it.

You murmur, “Thanks,” but he’s already moving again.

And then—Caleb’s there.

His presence brushes your back like static—always too close, always too calm. “You’re burning your sauce,” he says, voice pitched low just for you.

You clench your jaw. “I’m not.”

He steps closer, hand brushing yours as he takes the handle. His fingers move with infuriating grace—just a subtle shift of the heat, a flick of the wrist, and the sauce settles.

His arm brushes yours. His breath ghosts against your cheek. You can feel him smirking without even looking.

“Careful, chef,” he says. “Pride doesn’t plate well.”

You shoulder him—not hard, but enough.

“Neither does micromanaging.”

His voice drops, warm and smug. “If you want me to stop watching…” He leans just close enough for you to feel it. “Stop being so interesting to watch.”

Then he’s gone. Just like that. Back to the pass, calling out new orders like nothing happened.

You want to hurl the sauté pan at his head. Or drag him into the walk-in and slam the door behind you.

You haven’t decided yet.

“Chef,” Xavier says gently, pointing at the pan.

You snap back into motion.

“Five-top incoming,” Caleb calls.

A full table—five guests, five entrées, five chances to mess it up. You hear the bell ring. Another ticket prints. And then—

The back door swings open.

The entire kitchen tenses.

Sylus.

Pressed shirt, open collar, no apron. Clean shoes. Cool air follows him in, like he’s above the heat. He surveys the room, eyes drifting past the boiling pots, the flames, the staff running on fumes. When he lands on you, he lingers.

“Smells… intense,” he says with a small, amused smile. “Like ambition. And panic.”

“Out of the kitchen,” Caleb says without turning.

Sylus walks in anyway. Straight past the flames, toward the shelf of wine bottles. He picks one up. Sniffs. Frowns. He opens a drawer—your drawer, the one with the backup wine list—and pulls out a slim black leather notebook.

“What the hell are you doing?” you ask, wiping sweat from your forehead.

He doesn’t look up. “Fixing the mistake someone made by serving the Zind-Humbrecht Pinot Gris with duck confit.”

“Who even pairs the wine here?” Rafayel asks, licking sugar from his knuckles.

No answer.

Sylus smiles faintly and slips the notebook back. You catch a glimpse of neat handwriting. You’ve seen it before—on the wine map pinned to the walk-in, the one everyone quietly agrees is weirdly perfect.

No one ever said who wrote it.

Sylus pours himself a half-glass of something expensive—definitely not meant for staff—and takes a small sip, eyes closing in faint approval.

“I’ll be in the front,” he says to no one in particular. Then, with a final glance toward you: “Let me know if anyone wants to learn how to taste properly.”

And then he’s gone. Smooth. Untouchable.

Leaving behind a sudden silence that feels like a storm just passed through.

Caleb exhales through his nose.

Zayne mutters something about poisoning the wine.

Rafayel fans himself dramatically.

And you?

You pick up your pan. Xavier slides in beside you without a word, sets down a pat of butter and a fresh sprig of rosemary at your station—already prepped, already perfect. He’s gone again before the heat even rises. Everything you need is in place.

Now it’s just you, the fire, and the five who know how to burn beside you.

——————————————————————————

It’s past midnight.

You’re perched on an overturned milk crate near the deep sink, your back pressed against cold steel. One boot taps softly against the tile, the rhythm inconsistent—residual adrenaline bleeding out through movement. In your hand, a plastic deli container filled halfway with cheap red wine. It’s warm. You don’t care.

Across from you, the remnants of staff dinner: a tray of sad, over-salted fries, scattered with a few slumped sprigs of rosemary someone got fancy with. Grease pooled at the edges. Nobody’s throwing it out. It’s communal now.

Leaning against the prep table, arms folded, is Zayne. Shirt sleeves pushed halfway up his forearms, revealing old burn scars, healed nicks, the quiet story of a man who works with his hands and doesn’t complain. He hasn’t touched the wine. Hasn’t sat down. He watches the room like it might get up and move again.

“You missed a fold on the duck,” he says without looking directly at you. His eyes stay focused on the tray of fries, like he’s just stating fact.

You let out a soft scoff. “You’re seriously giving me notes after midnight?”

He shrugs. One shoulder, subtle. “If you’re awake, you’re learning.”

The stainless lowboy fridges clack slightly as Rafayel drapes himself over them like they’re his fainting couch. He’s half-melted against the surface, one leg kicked up, the toe of his shoe idly circling in the air. There’s a smear of chocolate on his cheek. He doesn’t care.

“Puh-lease, could we not do the critique hour? I’m emotionally brittle and overworked. I need to be coddled.”

Zayne doesn’t even blink. “No one coddles you.”

Rafayel flicks a cold fry into his mouth, chewing slowly, then points the next one at Zayne like it’s a wand. “You coddle me. In your cold, clinical way. Admit it.”

“I’ve never coddled anything in my life.”

“Tragic,” Raf says, mournful. “Explains so much...”

You let the grin spread before you stop it. It’s crooked, half-buried behind the rim of your ad hoc drinking glass. The tension in your shoulders starts to melt, fraction by fraction.

Against the wall, a quiet shift of movement—Xavier, sitting on a stack of flour sacks like it’s a throne made of clouds. His back’s slouched against the wall, knees up, arms resting on them. He looks half-asleep, but you know better. His eyes track every flicker of motion in the room.

He reaches into the pocket of his apron, pulling out a hard candy wrapped in glossy plastic. He peels it slowly, the crinkle unusually loud in the quiet.

“You want one?” he asks, voice gentle as always.

You glance at him. His hand is open, the candy resting in the center of his palm like an offering.

You take it. It’s stupid sweet. Artificial cherry. A kid’s candy in an adult’s world. Still, it makes the wine taste better.

Across the room, Caleb finally moves.

He’s been standing—always the last to drop his guard. His black jacket is still on, sleeves pushed up, the collar stained with the sweat and heat of ten hours behind the pass. He lowers himself slowly onto an empty stool, spine straight, arms braced on his knees.

His expression doesn’t change. But the way he exhales, long and slow, says enough.

“Good service,” he says, voice low and even. “No one dropped. No one quit.”

“Low bar,” you mutter, taking another sip.

Caleb’s mouth twitches. The almost-smile lives in his eyes for a second before it disappears again. “Barely still counts.”

A creak.

The back door swings open on squeaky hinges.

Every head turns.

Sylus.

He steps inside like the air belongs to him, sleeves rolled just once at the forearms. No sweat. No mess. No apron. Just that quiet calm, the smell of leather and wine and some expensive cologne none of you can place but all of you recognize. He carries a bottle of something dark under one arm.

He surveys the room slowly, his gaze moving from Zayne to Rafayel to you—pausing, slightly, when it lands on you—then finally Caleb.

“You’re all still alive,” he says, tone dry but almost… pleased. “Charming.”

“No thanks to you,” Caleb mutters, not lifting his head.

Sylus uncorks the bottle with practiced ease, plucks a wine glass from the drying rack without asking, and pours a half-glass. Deep red. Rich. Nothing from the line. This is his stock.

He lifts the glass. Sips. Eyes closed briefly. A subtle appreciation.

Then, eyes open—straight at you.

“You’re still standing,” he says. “Which is impressive. Tonight was chaos.”

You roll the candy against your tongue. “Chaos is part of the job.”

“No,” Sylus says smoothly. “Chaos is part of your job. Mine is keeping it bankable.”

Rafayel raises his hand in a languid gesture. “You’re welcome for all the emotional gravitas. And the soufflé.”

“I didn’t see your soufflé on the pass,” Caleb says flatly.

Rafayel leans back like he’s been struck. “It was evocative, Caleb. Too powerful for the plate.”

Zayne doesn’t look up. “You forgot the timer again.”

“I’m a visionary, not a timekeeper.”

“You’re a liability,” Zayne says, his voice as precise as his blade.

“And yet here I am. Unfired. Uncaged.” Raf gestures vaguely at the kitchen. “Mystery.”

Xavier shifts his weight slightly, shoulder brushing the wall. “You forgot to turn off the oven.”

Raf doesn’t miss a beat. He lifts his chin, all faux-grace. “…I meant to.”

Sylus, still watching, drains the rest of his glass, then walks to the back wall—toward the small wine rack no one’s supposed to touch. He runs a finger down the labels. Adjusts one slightly. Opens a drawer.

You tense.

It’s your drawer. Again. Where the backup wine list is kept. Where the slim, black leather notebook lives.

Sylus opens it. A flick of Sylus’s pen. A line drawn. A note added.

“You’re the wine guy,” you murmur.

Sylus doesn’t look up. “I am a guy with wine.”

Caleb straightens just slightly, voice sharp. “You never told me.”

Sylus looks at him then, one brow raised. “You never asked.”

A silence stretches over the room.

Thick.

Sylus corks the bottle, tucks it under one arm with a smooth movement, and turns to leave.

“I’ll be in the front,” he says. “Trying to find a glass that deserves this vintage.”

Then, as he reaches the door, he pauses and looks at you.

“If you’re not doing anything, chef, feel free to join me. Always more honest conversation once the pans are cold.”

Then he’s gone.

The door swings shut behind him and room exhales.

Caleb tips back his wine, downs the rest in one long pull.

Zayne moves to the counter, starts wiping it clean. His cloth is precise. Efficient. Methodical.

Xavier offers you another candy, not saying anything. He doesn’t need to.

Rafayel lies flat on his back and sighs like a Shakespearean tragedy.

You sit there. Candy melting on your tongue. Wine staining your throat.

——————————————————————————

The kitchen hums with the dull ache of a shift survived. No more shouting, no more sizzling pans. Just the whisper of the overhead vents and the occasional clink of glass on steel.

Zayne wipes down his station like another ticket’s about to drop. Every motion is sharp, practiced—chef-first, human-second. He folds the towel with crisp corners and sets it just so. You can tell by the slight tilt of his head, the slower breath, that he’s beginning to wind down—but he still can’t let go entirely.

“That’s me,” he says, finally. His voice is calm, quiet, but final.

You glance over your shoulder. “Clocking out already?”

He nods once. “Clean line. No reason to linger.”

He grabs his coat off the hook—creased, folded exactly how he left it at the start of the shift.

From across the room, a dramatic groan echoes off the tiles.

“Already?” Rafayel lifts his head from where he’s sprawled across two prep stools like a wilted orchid. “You’re leaving me in my hour of need?”

Zayne gives him a blank look. “It’s been forty-five minutes since service ended.”

“That’s forty-three minutes too long for me to be denied attention.” Raf flops to his feet with exaggerated grace, twirling one glove lazily in his hand. “Come, Icebox, at least walk me to the door. I might collapse from artistic exhaustion.”

“You’re standing,” Zayne says dryly.

“Barely,” Raf sighs, wobbling on purpose as he collects his coat. He tosses a wink your way. “Say goodbye to your favorite dessert.”

“You mean yourself?” you mutter.

“Obviously.” Rafayel leans in and presses a quick kiss to your cheek, feather-light but undeniable. Pulls back with a grin like he didn’t just set your pulse spinning.

Then he twirls dramatically toward the door. “I’ll return reborn, little flame.”

Zayne doesn’t say anything, but you swear the corner of his mouth twitches before he heads toward the door, Raf trailing beside him like a spark orbiting a sharp edge.

Just before they disappear, Raf glances back over his shoulder. “Try not to set anything on fire while I’m gone, Flame. And if you do—make it meaningful.”

The door closes with a soft click, and you’re left in the quiet again. The kitchen feels bigger without Raf’s voice bouncing around the walls.

You finish what’s left of your wine, set the empty container beside the sink, and stretch your back until it pops.

Then you move through the double doors into the front of house—

And step into an entirely different world.

——————————————————————————

The restaurant is immaculate.

Warm light glows low from the sconces, casting shadows across the marble floors and polished wood. Tables are set, untouched, crystal glasses lined up like sentries. Everything gleams. It smells faintly of lemon and linen and something floral, soft in the vents. The kind of scent no one notices until it’s gone.

Sylus is the only soul in the room.

He sits near the windows, one arm draped along the back of his chair, the other holding a half-full wine glass with casual elegance. The bottle is resting in a carved metal cradle on the table. The label is vintage. Expensive.

He looks up as you approach, the corner of his mouth curving just slightly.

“You made it.”

“Thought about going home,” you say.

“But didn’t.”

He gestures to the chair across from him. “Sit.”

You do. The velvet cushion is cool against your legs. Too soft. Unfairly comfortable. Of course he’d pick this table.

He picks up the bottle and tips it toward your glass. “You’re already drinking something terrible. Let’s fix that.”

You slide your glass toward him. “You always this generous after service?”

“I’m always generous to people who survive fire.” He pours carefully, not spilling a drop.

The wine is deep, smooth, the color of garnets and smoke. You sip. It tastes like money and secrets and something slow on the finish—something almost like regret.

You set the glass down. “This place looks untouched. Like service didn’t even happen.”

He smiles faintly, watching the candlelight flicker against your glass. “That’s the point. You build a kitchen to burn. You build a dining room to hide the burn.”

You glance around. “You care about this place.”

His eyes shift back to you. “Of course I do. My design. My money. My bones, in some ways.”

You study him a moment. He doesn’t look away.

“You built it to impress?” you ask.

“I built it to last.”

You nod slowly. “It’s beautiful.”

Sylus leans forward slightly, one elbow on the table, glass poised. “It’s survival. Beautiful survival, yes—but still survival. You know what I mean.”

You do. You don’t say it.

He looks at you differently now—quieter, more curious. His voice drops a notch. “You’re not like the others.”

You raise a brow. “Because I drink expensive wine when offered?”

“No.” He smiles. “Because you understand why it matters. You care about the fire. And about what survives it.”

Before you can answer, your phone buzzes in your pocket.

Once.

You pull it out.

Caleb: Need you back here. Xavier’s down again.

You look up. Sylus already knows.

“Another time?” he asks. His tone is soft, but there’s something behind it—like he already sees the future version of this moment repeating.

You nod. “Yeah.”

He watches you stand, glass half-finished on the table.

“If you ever want something that doesn’t burn,” he says, eyes sharp but warm, “you know where to find me, chef.”

You don’t answer.

Back in the kitchen, the lights are lower, quieter. The heartbeat of the space has slowed. Caleb is crouched near the dry storage, elbow braced on one knee. Xavier is curled up on the flour sacks again, arms folded under his head like a cat settling into the quiet.

“He’s out,” Caleb says, voice low, glancing over his shoulder—not irritated, not worried, just watching him with that quiet kind of care he never names.

You kneel beside them, brushing Xavier’s shoulder gently. “Hey. Wake up.”

His eyes crack open just a little.

“You good?” you whisper.

He nods, slow and soft. “…I’m fine, Second set.”

Your chest squeezes just a little.

Caleb is already lifting him with practiced ease, one hand under his arm. He doesn’t say anything, but you can tell by the way his fingers grip Xavier’s jacket that he’s done this before. But when you reach to help, he shifts to make space. Without looking at you, he makes room. Always does.

Together, the three of you leave.

The door clicks shut behind you, and the cool air of the city wraps around your skin. The sidewalks shine with old rain. Streetlights glaze the pavement with soft gold. Your shoes scuff against cracked cement as you fall into step—Caleb on one side, Xavier tucked into the quiet middle, blinking slowly.

The three of you walk in rhythm, quiet, boots echoing soft against the street. Caleb says nothing at first. But then—

He leans slightly toward you, voice low, warm in the stillness.

“Hey… good job today.”

Not performative. Not for show. Just soft. Real. Like it matters to him more than he lets anyone else see.

Your breath catches, just for a moment.

Then he looks down at Xavier, who’s barely keeping his eyes open, head dipping forward as he walks.

Caleb reaches out with one hand and gently ruffles Xavier’s pale bangs—an affectionate sweep—before tugging up the hood of his jacket like he’s tucking him in.

“And you too, Ghost,” he says, quiet.

Xavier hums, a little nod. Doesn’t open his eyes. Doesn’t need to.

Caleb’s shoulder brushes yours—once when you slip on uneven pavement, and again when Xavier starts to lean too hard to one side. He shifts his weight easily, like it’s natural to hold both of you steady.

Behind you, the restaurant glows. Through the front windows, you can still see Sylus, alone at the table, wine swirling in his glass, elbow resting just so on the white linen. He doesn’t look tired. He looks… exactly where he belongs.

And then—

He looks up.

He sees you.

Not glances—sees. Like you’re a chapter he’s already reading ahead in.

And just before you turn the corner, before the street swallows you, he lifts his glass. A toast. To you? To the night? To what comes next?

You don’t know.

But something shifts in your chest—just slightly.

Not fear. Not heat.

Something else.

——————————————————————————

——————————————————————————

The lock clicks like a familiar rhythm as you push the door open and step into the kitchen.

It’s technically a closed day—no service, no tickets. But the kitchen never really rests. Not here. There’s always something to prep, to refine, to fix.

Cool air hits your skin first—the prep station lights still off, only the early sun pouring through the back windows. It’s quiet, save for the low hum of the fridge compressors and the soft thunk-thunk-thunk of a knife on wood.

Zayne.

Already in place, sleeves rolled up, black strands brushing his forehead. He doesn’t glance up as you enter—just adjusts his grip on the cleaver and continues trimming down a mountain of bright spring onions. The scent of them—clean, sharp—hangs in the air like a warning.

You walk in slower, letting the door swing shut behind you, and start walking toward your station when—

“Morning.”

His voice is low, unbothered. No shift in pace, no dramatics.

“Morning,” you say, setting your bag down.

There’s a pause, just a breath too long to be casual. Then—

“Good call on the tangerine oil yesterday,” Zayne murmurs, slicing through a stalk with surgical precision. “I didn’t say it then.”

You glance over, a little surprised. “You mean you noticed?”

“I notice everything.” He looks up, just briefly. And for the shortest beat, he smiles.

Small. Barely there. But real.

And only for you.

Then it’s gone. His knife resumes its rhythm. The rest of the kitchen hasn’t even started breathing yet.

And just as you turn toward your station—

“You’re late,” a voice drawls from behind a stack of flour bags.

You freeze mid-step.

You know that voice.

“…Raf?”

Rafayel pops up from behind the counter like a devil in a drama. He’s wearing his apron inside out, sleeves rolled and pinned with two glittering clips. His eyes catch the light like a prism.

“I know, I know,” he says, holding up his hands before you can speak. “Don’t ask why I’m here before noon. I’m as shocked as you are.”

You blink. “Why are you here before noon?”

He leans in, eyes wide like he’s about to tell you something salacious.

“Food critic,” he whispers, as if invoking a spirit.

Your stomach tightens.

“Wait—” Raf straightens suddenly. “Didn’t Caleb text all of us to show up early?” He looks between you and Zayne. “Right? He texted you two too?”

“No,” you and Zayne answer in unison.

Raf stares.

Zayne slices clean through a fennel bulb and slides it aside with absolute precision.

“He doesn’t need to.” A pause. “We’re always early.”

Raf gasps, clutching his chest like it’s a personal attack.“God, you’re such A-types. How exhausting.”

You raise a brow. “And you’re what, exactly?”

“Obviously B-type,” Raf says, flicking flour off his sleeve with flair. “The artistic kind. The ones who dream. The ones who show up when the muses say ‘now.’”

Zayne doesn’t look up.

“Your muse needs a schedule.”

“My muse needs espresso and validation,” Raf says primly. “Neither of which I’m getting fast enough.”

You can’t help the smirk tugging at your mouth as Raf grabs a mixing bowl with the drama of someone accepting an award.

Rafayel waggles his fingers. “Aaanyways…Not that I care about some starch-shirted, no-palate having, bland-gutted fork collector. But Caleb? Oh, he cares.”

He hops off the counter, landing with a bounce. “And Sylus?” Raf makes a low whistle, spinning one finger through the air. “He hears the word ‘Michelin’ and suddenly it’s ‘revamp the wine list’ and ‘triple the foie gras.’” He mimics Sylus’s voice perfectly. “It’s all very dramatic.”

“You’re the dramatic one,” Zayne mutters from the cutting board.

Raf ignores him. “I suggested we go to the beach instead. Cleanse the palate. Feel something. Maybe get arrested. You know, real inspiration.”

You smile.

The kitchen is still cool, still half-asleep, but slowly beginning to hum.

And then—

The back door opens with a thud.

Caleb.

He’s dressed in a dark shirt with cuffed sleeves, casual but still precise. In each arm, grocery bags—paper, heavy, full of weight. You spot the edge of imported cheese, the glint of glass bottles, long sprigs of fresh herbs still dripping with condensation. He steps in like he’s walked five blocks uphill.

Rafayel eyes the bags, unimpressed. “Let me guess—three kinds of truffle and one single blood orange?”

Caleb drops the bags on the prep table with a thunk. “Brigade,” he says, eyeing the room. “Team’s all here—more or less. Make yourselves useful.”

He turns to you, nodding once. “We’re doing something special today. Want your hands on it.”

You blink. “For the critic?”

“For the team,” he says simply. Then: “Critic’s just an excuse.”

Rafayel dramatically presses his palm to his chest. “Are you suggesting I create something for someone who doesn’t deserve it?”

Caleb tosses him a bundle of herbs. “I’m suggesting you create. Period.”

Zayne steps forward, inspecting the bags. “This is… high-end.”

“Expensive,” Caleb confirms. “Sylus gave me the green light.”

That tracks. Sylus isn’t in yet—a night creature, as he once called himself. “We work the day,” he’d said once, swirling wine. “I own the night.” Xavier’s late too, of course. But that’s just Xavier. Like Raf, he moves on his own time.

You pull out your phone and tap a quick message:

YOU: You coming in soon? The crew misses your ghost routine.

You set it down again.

Caleb glances over, catching the motion.

“Let him sleepwalk his way in,” he says, a dry twist in his tone. Then, a beat—softer now: “We’ll try to keep order until our fifth remembers time exists.”

Caleb’s already unpacking. Hands sure. Focus locked.

“Let’s build something new. You. Me. The four of us. Five, when Ghost floats in.”

You meet his eyes. There’s no pressure there, no edge. Just invitation.

“Bring me ideas. Or at least good bread,” he adds.

Rafayel claps his hands. “I knew this day would come, Maestro. A collaboration! Shall we open with edible orchids or existential dread?”

Raf’s already reaching for the nearest fruit like it’s a paintbrush. “I want bitterness. I want longing. I want something that tastes like a last confession whispered into a velvet napkin—”

Caleb glances at him, the corner of his mouth twitching—just barely. Amused. But not swayed.

“Start with flour,” he says, dry. “Then spiral from there.”

Raf gasps softly. “Ouh—Daddy Discipline has spoken.” Then, with a wink: “Should I kneel? Or just sift dramatically?”

Your phone buzzes softly.

You check the screen.

XAVIER: On my way. Dreaming of fennel. Don’t burn without me 🐰🎀

And just like that, it begins.

The morning stretches with warm light on your shoulders. Dough starts rising. Butter softens. You smell lavender. Blood orange. Scorched sugar.

Rafayel hums as he works. Zayne corrects your knife grip once, but with quiet patience. Caleb doesn’t hover—but he passes close, every so often, to taste. To glance. To quietly trust.

And for once, the kitchen doesn’t feel like a battlefield.

It feels like something else.

Something good.

Steam from reduced vinegar curls into the air alongside delicate floral notes from the elderflower syrup Raf’s been coaxing out of thin patience and sugar. The room is warm now, alive—but without the chaos. For once, the burners are lit, but the tension isn’t.

The prep table is a soft mess of bowls and plates, slashed parchment paper, flour scattered like stardust. A plate of cooling tart shells rests near the edge, and someone—probably Zayne—has already lined up mise in exact rows: black garlic paste, candied fennel, crushed pink peppercorns.

A jazz track loops quietly from someone’s phone—the compromise after Rafayel insisted on opera. You all vetoed it. Jazz didn’t demand attention. It just filled the space, soft and steady, giving the kitchen rhythm without stealing the scene.

Caleb paces slowly along the line—not correcting, just hovering. Tracking movements like he’s syncing them to something internal. He passes behind you, the warmth of him brushing your shoulder, deliberate but unhurried.

He leans in, barely a breath from your ear.

“You’re two steps ahead of everyone this morning, Hotshot.” He murmurs, low enough that only you can hear. Then, with the smallest curve of a smile—

“It’s irritating.” Caleb moves on before you can respond.

Zayne is all precision beside you, his knife a metronome. He’s slicing roasted fennel into paper-thin arcs and assembling them into soft folds like petals. Every motion is practiced. Economic. You watch him out of the corner of your eye, impressed at how little he ever wastes—motion, energy, time.

He must notice.

Because without breaking pace, he flicks a glance toward your station—eyes scanning your hands, then your face. Just once. A small nod. A subtle tug at the corner of his mouth—barely there. But it’s yours.

And then he’s back to his work like nothing happened

Across the table, Rafayel leans over a set of tart bases, bare-handed, his fingertips pressing custard into each shell like he’s painting emotion into a canvas. He hums something under his breath—minor key, off tempo. Sweet but a little strange.

He licks a smear of citrus glaze off his wrist and suddenly sighs, loud enough to catch your attention.

“Has anyone ever told you that custard is a lie?” he says dramatically, not looking up. “It pretends to be simple. Wholesome. Comforting. But it’s fickle. Clingy. It breaks the second you look at it wrong.”

You glance over. “Having a moment?”

“I’m having an awakening, Flame.”

Zayne doesn’t even pause in his slicing. “You’re having a meltdown.”

“Don’t mock my process,” Rafayel huffs. “You weren’t there when the egg curdled. You didn’t see what it became. It looked at me like it knew I was doubting myself.”

You hold back a smile.

“Also,” Raf continues, spooning another slick of custard into a shell with excessive flourish, “if anyone asks, I invented emotional citrus. It’s soft. It’s devastating. It haunts your childhood.”

“I’m going to haunt you,” Zayne mutters.

“And that’s what I call team spirit.” Caleb, still watching, glances your way. Just once. Noticing. Measuring.

This is what the kitchen feels like when it isn’t drowning.

And then—

The door creaks open.

Xavier steps through like dusk itself: quiet, soft-shouldered, pale blond bangs falling over his forehead as he shrugs out of a light coat. He’s holding a paper bag of herbs tucked under one arm, and a clean stack of towels clutched to his chest like a warm offering.

His shoes barely make a sound on the tile.

His eyes move through the room—Zayne, Rafayel, Caleb—then finally you.

He blinks once. “Need hands?” His voice is calm, but there’s something gentle behind it. Like he already knows the answer.

You smile, automatically. “Always.”

He moves with almost no sound, setting the bag down at your station before you’ve even shifted. You glance sideways and catch him silently organizing your tools—towel folded, knife turned blade-in, a fresh set of herb sprigs unwrapped and waiting.

“Nice to see you in the light,” you murmur.

Xavier smiles, barely. “Too bright. Feels like cheating.”

You’re about to ask what that means when—

The back door swings open hard enough to stir the air.

Sylus steps in like a gust of something colder, crisper. Pressed shirt, sleeves rolled once. No jacket today, just cufflinks catching the morning sun in a glint. In one hand, a thin black folder. In the other? A single, perfect baguette wrapped in wax paper and twine.

He doesn’t speak right away. Doesn’t have to.

The room slows.

Rafayel, of course, is the first to fill the silence. “Ah. The Night King arrives.”

Sylus pauses, just enough to give him a glance. “And here I thought I was early.”

“You are, for you,” Zayne mutters, not looking up from his slicing.

Caleb steps out from behind the counter, arms folded across his chest. Not tense—just reading the air.

“You’re just in time,” he says. “We’re creating.”

Sylus raises a brow. “Creating?”

He walks forward slowly, glancing at the plates—at the ingredients still strewn across the prep line. His eyes pass over the orange custards, the chilled tart shells, the unfinished sketch next to your station.

He lingers for a second. Then: “Is this… for them?”

“The critic?” Caleb says. “It’s for us.”

You nod, echoing. “But they’ll eat it.”

Sylus hums—a sound of faint amusement—and steps closer. He sets the baguette down neatly near the center of the table. Then flips open the black folder with one hand.

Inside, a printed wine list. Notes. Names scribbled in Sylus’s handwriting.

He studies it for a beat, then reaches for the paper again, scanning the rows.

“I’ll pull the Tempranillo,” he murmurs, half to himself.

Zayne, without looking up: “Critic prefers white.”

Sylus doesn’t lift his head. “Then the critic lacks imagination.”

Rafayel lets out a small snicker. “See? This is the kind of reckless elegance I live for.”

You almost laugh. You don’t.

Sylus disappears to the back, sliding into the cellar like it’s his second home.

Xavier slides a plate your way without a word—a tasting spoon laid neatly beside it. You didn’t ask. You needed it. He knew.

Rafayel leans closer to you, whispering, “We should form a splinter kitchen, Flame. You, me, The Whisperer, and the king of wine aka Daddy Deep Pockets. No rules. No menus. Just vibes.”

“I think we already have that,” you murmur back.

He grins, then pops a sugared fennel into his mouth. “Ugh. Still too grounded. I want transcendence.”

Caleb has started prepping again, head bowed, brow furrowed—but he’s smiling.

You glance at the team—present, steady, maybe even happy—and you feel something click into place.

The critic’s coming. The pressure will return.

But right now?

The kitchen is whole.

And maybe—for the first time in a long time—so are you.

——————————————————————————

Only the light above the prep table is on, casting long shadows against steel and tile. The others have gone for the night—Raf babbled about “moonlight gelato dreams,” Sylus vanished in a trail of cologne and cryptic wine notes, and Xavier? Somewhere between the pantry and a nap in the dry storage.

You’re still here.

And so is Caleb.

He’s standing at the counter, arms braced on the steel, sleeves pushed up, steam still curling faintly from the forgotten pot beside him. There’s tension in his jaw. A tightness to his stillness.

You finish wiping down your side station and wander over to the prep board, eyes scanning the half-finished layout for tomorrow’s service. You don’t hear him move, but you feel it when he’s suddenly close.

Too close.

He leans in behind you, not touching—but you feel the heat of him along your back, the slow press of his voice by your ear.

“Don’t tell me you’re still second-guessing the placement of the tartlets,” he murmurs.

You don’t look at him. “They’re not centered.”

“They’re fine.” He exhales a soft chuckle. “If you stare at it any longer, it’s going to combust. Though I’d enjoy watching that.”

You try to ignore the way his voice dips on that last part. “Your definition of helpful needs work.”

Caleb leans in a little more, eyes scanning over your shoulder, breath warm on your temple.

“I am being helpful,” Caleb murmurs, voice low and easy, close enough that his breath stirs the air by your ear. “I’m giving you a second opinion. Up close.”

You glance sideways.

He’s right there.

Calm. Still.

A smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. His arms relaxed at his sides, and his ash-brown bangs fall low across his eyes—teasing the edge of his gaze like they’re trying to soften what’s already too sharp.

And he’s watching you. Not the plate.

You.

“This reminds me of school,” he says quietly, almost to himself. “Late nights. Just us. You, me, four dozen plates, no time, no sleep.”

His voice sinks deeper, warmer. “You always worked like you were chasing something. Like every plate had to prove something.” A beat. “Maybe it did.”

You don’t answer—not right away.

The kitchen hums around you, distant now. You’re aware of the shape of him beside you, the weight of memory folding in like steam.

He tilts his head, hair shifting as his eyes flick down—first to your hands, then to the line, then back again.

“I used to stay later than I needed to,” he murmurs. “Just to watch you finish.”

The words land soft but heavy. Measured, like he’s waited years to say them without it sounding like too much.

Your breath catches.

“Back off or I’ll start moving your mise around,” you mutter.

He lifts his hands in mock surrender. “Cruel.”

But he’s still smiling as he steps back, just enough to let the air cool again. Then:

“Do you trust him?”

You glance up. “Who?”

His eyes meet yours, steady. “Sylus.”

The weight in his voice isn’t jealousy. It’s strategy. Tension.

You tilt your head. “I trust him to protect his own interests.”

Caleb nods once. Not agreement. Just recognition. He shifts slightly, drawing in a slow breath through his nose.

“I’ve seen how he looks at you,” he says, voice low. “How he acts like you’re already part of his portfolio.” His fingers flex on the table’s edge.

You blink, heart ticking faster. You don’t answer. You can feel the air shifting around him. Not heated—but heavy. Pressurized.

“And I know it’s none of my business,” he continues, stepping just close enough to lower his voice further. “But I also know I’m not the only one who notices.”

There’s a silence.

Then he adds, quieter: “I care about you. More than I should. And I’m not proud of how long I tried to ignore it.”

You stare at him, throat tight. There’s no performative heat in his words. No desperation. Just truth—terrifying in its clarity.

And then—

A voice, cool as glass:

“You done?”

You both turn.

Zayne. He’s leaning against the doorframe, arms folded, prep notes in one hand. His expression is unreadable.

“I came back for my folder,” he says, tone neutral. “Didn’t expect to walk in on… this.”

Caleb doesn’t move.

Zayne straightens slightly. “You want to have feelings, do it off the clock. Because if this is going to interfere with service, then someone else needs to be running the pass.”

He doesn’t raise his voice, but the line is drawn.

You open your mouth, but Caleb holds up a hand—not to you. To Zayne.

And when he speaks, it’s not loud. It’s final.

“I built this kitchen.” His voice is steel. “I run it. I trained every person on this line to breathe in rhythm because I commanded it. So if you think you’re going to walk in here and take my place because I had the audacity to feel something human for five seconds—think again, Sous.”

Zayne’s face doesn’t change. “I’m talking about focus.”

“I’m always focused,” Caleb replies. Calm. Deadly. “That’s the difference between you and me. You cut to fix. I cut to lead.”

You feel your chest tighten. You’ve heard Caleb take control before—calm, commanding, in total charge. But this isn’t that. This is quieter. Sharper. Like he’s sealing something off with every word.

Zayne looks at you briefly. Then, with no more to say, he turns, collects his notes, and walks out the door.

No dramatics. No parting shot.

But the room is different now.

You don’t realize your shoulders have tensed until you release them. Caleb doesn’t speak—just stares down at the table, knuckles pale against the steel.

Then, slowly, his head lifts.

His eyes meet yours.

And the sharp edge he showed a moment ago is gone—replaced by something quieter. Something that slips out in the way his gaze lingers on you, like he’s still trying to hold onto whatever thread just snapped.

Not anger. Not regret. Just… want. Steady and unsaid. Heavy in his chest. The kind that’s been there for too long.

He exhales once through his nose, slow and measured, like he’s trying to steady something breaking apart beneath the surface. His mouth parts—he’s just about to say something.

And you cut in, too soft:

“I’m gonna—step out.”

That breath never finishes. Whatever he was going to say dissolves on it. He just watches you go.

You slip out of the kitchen, shoes quiet against the floor, and walk the familiar path to dry storage—where Xavier tends to hide.

Sure enough, he’s there. Sitting on a sack of rice like it’s a lounge chair, head tilted against the shelf, fingers absently stirring through a bowl of dried lavender.

He glances up as you step in. The light overhead flickers once, then steadies.

“You okay?” he asks.

You hesitate.

Then you sink down beside him, legs folding slow, spine rounding. You let the quiet sit for a moment.

“I think something just cracked,” you murmur. “Between Caleb and Zayne. I didn’t mean to cause it, but… I was there. And it happened.”

Xavier doesn’t say anything right away. He lets your words hang there, like he’s waiting to see what shape they’ll settle into.

Then he blinks, slowly, and slides the bowl toward you. “Want to stir it?”

You frown a little, but reach for the dried lavender, fingers trailing through the soft buds and stems. The scent rises—herbal, calming, sweet.

You hear his voice again, quieter this time.

“I’ve seen cracks before,” he says. “In people. Places. Pressure doesn’t cause them. It just shows where they already were.”

You stare at the lavender. “So this was inevitable?”

He shrugs, shoulder grazing yours. “Maybe. Or maybe Zayne needed to hear something he didn’t want to.”

You exhale through your nose. It’s not relief, but it’s something close.

“I just didn’t expect Caleb to talk like that,” you say. “He didn’t yell. He just… cut.”

Xavier nods. Then, without warning, he lifts a hand and places it gently on top of your head.

Not ruffling. Not patronizing. Just… there.

His palm is warm. His fingers soft. His expression is still mostly neutral—but his eyes, when you glance up at him, are smiling.

Awake. Present.

“You’re not a crack,” he says softly. “You’re an anchor. That scares people sometimes.”

Your throat tightens.

He drops his hand back to his lap and unwraps a piece of hard candy from his pocket. He doesn’t even ask—just places it in your palm, like always.

You stare at it for a moment, then pocket it instead of eating it.

“I need fresh air,” you whisper.

He nods once, head tipping forward. “Take your time. I’ll stay here.”

You rise slowly and leave him in the stillness.

The hallway echoes under your feet.

And the moment the back door opens, night air rushes in like a wave, cool enough to sting a little when you breathe too deep.

You sit on the back curb of the restaurant, knees drawn up, elbows resting on them, hands clasped together like you’re holding something breakable between them. The light from inside spills out in a narrow triangle behind you. The rest of the alley is dark, still, wide with silence.

Your breath comes slow, but your thoughts move fast—Caleb’s voice, low and clipped. Zayne’s stillness before the exit. Xavier’s palm resting gently on your head like a safety switch flipped just in time.

You close your eyes for a moment, trying to find something still inside yourself.

Then—

The sound of boots. Slow. Steady. Confident.

You open your eyes.

Emerging like he was made of shadow and tailored cashmere. His coat flares slightly as he walks, hands deep in his pockets, no rush to the way he moves. Just inevitability.

Sylus stops a few feet away from you, eyes catching in the spill of light.

“You look like someone just canceled your favorite dessert.”

You don’t even look at him. “Not in the mood, Sylus.”

“I know,” he says. There’s no teasing in it. Just fact. “That’s why I came.”

He steps closer, crouches down beside you—not too close. Just near enough to let you feel that Sylus weight, that presence like gravity in a dark suit.

“I’m not asking what happened,” he says after a moment. “I’m just saying—you don’t have to sit in it alone.”

You don’t answer. You look away instead, at the empty street. The way the lamplight pools on the asphalt like melted gold.

Sylus lets the silence breathe between you before he straightens again.

“I was going to take the bike home,” he says, casual now, light. “Wind’s good for shaking off unnecessary emotions. Or at least rearranging them.”

You glance sideways. “Your bike?”

He smirks. “Black Ducati. Impractical. Loud. Disrespectful. You’d hate it.”

You pause. “Maybe...”

He tilts his head. “Want a ride?”

There’s a long, suspended moment.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Exactly why I asked.” He holds out a hand. Not pushy. Just there.

You hesitate only a second longer—then you take it.

Ten minutes later, you’re flying through the city.

You’re pressed to Sylus’s back, arms snug around his waist, helmet a little too tight, and the wind feels real. Not just cold—but electric. Like it’s moving through your ribs, threading out all the things you can’t say.

He doesn’t talk. He doesn’t show off. He just moves.

Smooth through corners. Confident at every red light. Leaning into the road like it’s his stage and you’re the only audience. The buildings blur. Headlights trail like comets. Your hands stay still at his middle, but your heart is starting to beat in rhythm with the engine.

The night smells like spice and exhaust and the faint trace of whatever cologne Sylus wears that defies logic.

For a little while, you’re nobody’s anchor. Nobody’s pressure point.

Just a passenger.

Sylus slows in front of your building with a soft rumble and kills the engine. The world gets quiet again. Too quiet.

You swing your leg off, pull the helmet off with fingers a little numb, and shake your hair loose into the night air. You’re flushed. Alive.

Sylus dismounts after you, smooth and effortless. Helmet tucked under one arm.

He glances over. “Better?”

You nod. “Yeah. That was…”

“A terrible idea,” he says, with a small grin.

You huff a breath of a laugh. “Exactly.”

He steps a little closer, gaze steady now. No smirk. Then he cups your face—just barely. Fingers warm against your jaw, thumb resting gently near your cheekbone.

“You’re not just talent,” he says, voice low, like it’s meant for your bones, not your ears. “You’re the reason this place works. The critic won’t change that.” A pause—long enough to carry weight.

“Neither will what happened tonight.”

Red eyes soften. His jaw eases—just enough to blur the sharp edge of his profile. He’s close. Closer than you meant to let him be. And then—just for a breath—he bites his lower lip. Like he’s tasting the moment before it breaks.

You blink—throat suddenly dry, like your body realized something your mind hasn’t caught up to yet.

You don’t know what to say to that.

So he hands you the helmet instead. “Keep it. You might need it again, chef.”

And then he’s gone, swallowed by night, like the moment was never real to begin with.

You make it up to your apartment, lights low, boots kicked off, helmet set gently on the counter. You exhale—but it’s not release. Sylus’s still there. Not in the room, but in the shape of your breath, in the echo of his fingers on your face.

His presence clings—low in your spine, high in your throat. It curls behind your thoughts, quiet and hungry. You lean into the counter, eyes closed, trying to shake the heat from your skin. But it’s not leaving. He’s not leaving.

Then your phone buzzes.

RAFAYEL: Did you die??? I had a dream you were kidnapped and made to eat under-seasoned risotto. I woke up crying. Text me back or I’m calling the police.

Then another buzz.

RAFAYEL: Also. You looked hot today. That’s not related. Just wanted you to know.

You snort, flopping down on the couch, smile tugging at the corner of your mouth.

God bless the chaos.

And god help the critic.

——————————————————————————

Chapter one

——————————————————————————

Writer’s note: First off, a massive thank you to everyone who left such lovely comments, reblogged, and liked the draft—it truly means the world! I was considering color-coding their dialogue, but honestly, it just pulls me out of the flow when I read it myself. That said, if it’s something you’d prefer, let me know—I’m always open to your thoughts and where you think this story could go. The next chapter is ofc already cooking in my brain, and I can’t wait to dive deeper into the flames of this kitchen AU!

(And finally—finally—I have a real use for all my wine-and-dine knowledge beyond just obsessing over a perfectly cooked scallop, pickled Hokkaido pumpkin, paired with a beautiful Furmint (and binge watching Masterchef AU). I’m not a snob, I swear—just passionately invested in the finer things… like good wine, a perfect cup of coffee, soft lighting, and Caleb being the most heart-stealing man to ever exist. HEH.) And you better believe New Noise as been on repeat. Okey then, thank you for reading 🫶🏻

[jilixthinker]

i always know

=͟͟͞♡ seungmin × fem!reader

=͟͟͞♡ fluffy period sex

word count: 4K

content warning: smut, explicit sexual content, established relationship, kinda sub!seungmin, period sex, unprotected sex (piv), fingering, oral sex (f receiving), it's grafic and fluffy

a/c: i wrote this for my pure enjoyment because period!sex should be debunked and seungmin is just so... fitting. enjoy this ♡

=͟͟͞♡ please, consider reblogging if you like my works!

"What do you need again?"

Seungmin's voice is ruffled and far. You can hear people talking in the background and the annoying beeping sounds of cash registers.

"Just the regular pads I always buy." You huff, hot bottle strategically placed on your lower stomach and phone on speaker. The fact that you had to do anything today is literally a crime. You had to go to work, 8 infinite hours of cramps and shivers, and then grocery shopping. And, of course, you forgot to buy your pads.

Seungmin finished his shift 30 minutes ago, and he called to check on you, asking if you were feeling like eating Chinese for dinner. That's when it popped into your mind.

"Uhm. The purple ones, right?". You can hear him searching through the boxes to find the right one.

"Yes, just those." You mutter, another dart of dull pain spikes through your abdomen, making you curl on yourself.

The painkiller you took with lunch wore off hours ago and you cannot take another one without eating before, or it will upset your stomach.

"Okay. 10 minutes and I'll be home. I am so sorry".

You roll from your side onto your back, hugging the hot bottle tighter to your tummy and drawing your knees towards your chest. Kim Seungmin is the best boyfriend in the entire world, a true angel, and you know it. That's why you say it all the time.

"Kim Seungmin, you are the best boyfriend in the entire world."

Seungmin's laugh is quiet and shy while you hear him paying for your box of pads.

"I'm not. Coming."

You close your eyes trying to relax, but it doesn’t work. You watch your own chest rise and fall in the overwhelming quiet of the room until the silence is too much, and you look for the remote, stuck under the million of cushions on your sofa. You put one of your favorite kdramas on, and you lazily start to watch it until you hear the sound of keys just outside the door.

You sit up, keeping your hot bottle on your stomach. The sound is followed by the shuffle of footsteps and the sound of Seungmin's soft voice.

"Hi." He waves as soon as he sees you, splayed on the couch.

"Hi," you respond. You try to keep the discomfort out of your voice, even if Seungmin knows how much painful your periods can be. Your pale face doesn't hide anything as well.

He rounds the corner and he tilts his head at you. His new blondish hair partially covers his puppy eyes, but it makes him look so soft and cuddly that you don't mind.

"Are you alright?". He asks you while he starts to set the table for the take-out.

"Yeah, fine". You rub your face and move against the arm of the couch. "Always the same".

"Mhm." Seungmin nods and places two napkins and your chopsticks on the table before heading for the kitchen. You watch him opening two boxes of stir fried noodles and one of caramelized tofu, together with some mushrooms and veggies.

"Ready." He smiles and comes toward you, offering his hand as a support for standing up. When you both sit at the table, he fills your plate before his.

"Why are you so sweet today?" You ask, picking up your chopstick and starting munching on some veggies.

He ducks his head with a cute wink. "I am always sweet. Also, you are hurting." He squeezes your hand and brings it to his mouth, kissing your knuckles. You stuff a piece of tofu inside your mouth.

"I am not hur-".Then another cramp twists through your lower belly and you groan.

"Oh, love." He coos, and looking up, you realize he has a worried look in his eyes. "Wait, let me help you eat".

Before you can mount any protest, he takes your chopsticks from your hands and bring a piece of tofu and mushrooms in front of your mouth. You look at him steadily.

"I am not a child." You huff, but the pain humbles you quickly with a sharp cramp.

"How many times have you mothered me when I was sick? Let me pamper you every once in a while." And then he looks at you with the softest eyes he could master. "Please?"

You lift your legs to place them on his laps and you silently open your mouth. The flavorful taste of the food calming your senses just a little. Seungmin alternates one mouthful of food for you and one for himself for a few minutes. The vision is so caring and sweet that makes your heart ache.

When you both finish eating, Seungmin places a tiny kiss on your cheek before starting to clear the table. You patiently wait for him to finish and, when he is done, he hands you a big glass of water with one of your painkillers.

"I feel awful". You admit after chugging the pill together with half of the water.

Seungmin nods, and he gently circles your hips with his arm, helping you standing up again. He rests one of his hands on your hipbone and caresses it. "What can I do?".

"Nothing, Min." you reply. "I'm not dying. It will pass, eventually. It happens every month". You glare and hope he can stop worrying that much before you start feeling guilty.

"Why don't you choose something nice to watch while I prepare the bed and make another hot bottle?"

The thought of you two cuddling on your warm bed until the painkillers kick in and you can fall asleep is very tempting.

"Sure. I am gonna change my pad real quick and put my pajamas on."

Seungmin smiles and you pick up the box he bought for you from a shopping bag, heading to the bathroom.

After taking the quickest shower and putting a fluffy set of pajamas, you enter in your room. Seungmin turned on just the background lights, the softer ones, and he is waiting for you under the covers. He created what it seems to be a nest of blankets, soft and warm. You snuggle next to him and he covers you with one of them, the hot bottle waiting for you.

You hug his chest and he places one arm around your shoulders, pressing the bottle on your stomach and making sure you are all covered with the blankets. The TV in front of your bed is already on.

"I don't deserve you." You whisper, nuzzling your nose in the crook of his neck. He smells nice, fresh and clean as always.

"You deserve any of this and more". He turns his head to press a peck on your forehead, and he tightens his hug. You puff some air while snuggling up. The warmth of his body feels just right against your aching stomach, and in just a few seconds you begin to feel better already.

"How can you always find out what I need?" You ask, the sound of your voice is muffled by the skin of his neck, and Seungmin lets out a tiny laugh.

"Well, it's simple. I love you. I always know." He murmurs, settling his hand on the nape of your neck. Your eyes slip shut, you still  feel an uncomfortable tightness in your lower stomach, but it's definitively decreasing.

Seungmin finds the remote control and clicks on the same episode of the drama you were watching before. His touch melts down your skin, warm and soft, soothing the tension of your muscles and bringing you the relief you’ve been craving the whole day.

The voices of the drama seem far while you bring your right leg to straddle Seungmin's.

"This feels so nice". You whisper on his skin.

Seungmin smiles and starts to hum a lullaby. The vibrations are low and you start to think you might even fall asleep like this. Then, another cramp hits you and suddenly you are wide awake again.

"That bad?" Seungmin's hands settle on your hips and travel to your back, massaging your spine in tiny circles, trying to help you with the pain.

"Uhm." You reply. His fingers catch on the hem of your pajamas shirt and he starts to press the pads on your bare skin. He keeps the pressure consistent and your back arches slightly into his. You shuffle closer to him. The heat of his hands on your back is a pleasing distraction from the ache spreading through your pelvis.

"Does it help a little?" He whispers while pressing another kiss on your temple.

"It feels good." You mumble. The noise is muffled in the soft fabric of Seungmin's sweater.

He nods, and for a few minutes he keeps alternating between applying pressure to your back and running his hands up and down your spine. You hum from deep in your chest as you feel yourself go loose in his arms. The cramps on your abdomen lighten and you tilt your head to the side to face him.

"Kiss?" You demand, voice all groggy and low.

Seungmin lowers his face to press his lips against yours. They are plump and soft, and they taste like mint. You lazily open your mouth and let your tongue lap his lower lip. He lets you do it for a bit, until you start nibbling at it and you feel getting restless under the warm covers.

"Getting better?" He asks without letting your mouth go.

You nod and his right hand comes up to cup your cheek. The other one is still on your lower back, caressing the skin over your pajama pants.

Seungmin hums slowly and the sound vibrates into you. He parts his lips and licks into your mouth while your grip on him becomes tighter.

"Can I try something?" He breathes on you. The pressure of his hand on your back is firmer than before, and his fingers feel hot against your sensitive skin.

"Something like?" you stop to look up to him. He looks a little bit flushed, but you're sure you look worse.

"Something than can help you. And something that I wanted to try for a while."

You feel a slight shiver on the skin of your back. You nod and lower your face to press your lips on his cheek, leaving an open mouthed kiss on it. Seungmin cups your chin again and slips the tip of his tongue inside your waiting mouth. You hum pleasantly, trying to deepen the kiss, until finally Seungmin gives in and lets you.   

Your lower stomach is still throbbing with pain, but you quickly feel a wave of warmth spreading on your belly. It feels like Seungmin is making everything hot, every little part of you that he gets to touch. He starts to drag his warm tongue along your lips while his hands tease the place where your skin meets the fabric of your pants. When he starts to play with the elastic band underneath, you lazily detach your mouth from his.

"Min?"

"Uh?" He leans back a little, but his lips find the tender spot under your ear and he begins to kiss you there.

"I am getting really horny." You admit. Your eyes slip shut and you lean on his touch.

"That's perfect." He murmurs, sucking a tiny portion of skin into his mouth and bringing his hands to cup your ass over the fabric of your pajamas. You moan at the touch and you press your body firmly against his.

"Is this okay?" He asks, sucking another bite into the skin of your neck.

You roll your head back onto the pillow under you, giving him more space. The soft light reflects on his brown eyes, glazy and dusted with arousal.

"Very."

Seungmin licks a stripe up your throat, all the way to your ear, and he gently rolls you on the bed until you are laying completely on your back. Even if his touch is light, you wince when he lays a hand on your stomach, slipping his fingers under your waistband. He dips his head to kiss the corner of your mouth, and then at the exposed skin of your collarbones, where the collar of your pajamas has slipped to the side.

You gasp when he slowly slips his hand underneath your pants and his fingers find your underwear. You stop tensing your legs, letting them fall apart slowly, and his fingers brush lower, over your inner thighs.

You’re so sensitive like this that you feel you could explode any moment now. The warmth of the room, combined with all the hormones flooding your body, heighten every little touch.

Seungmin's knuckles brush against the fabric of your cotton panties, and he slips a finger under the elastic band, finally pulling them off together with your pants. The induments fall on the floor, and that's when you remember your conditions.

"Minnie... I think we should grab a towel."

Seungmin kneels on the mattress in between your parted legs, and grab your knees to keep them open. "I don't care about the towel."

You are about to protest when one of Seungmin's hands slips lower and you feel the first brush of his fingers on you. A moan escapes from your mouth and your eyes flutter shut. And when he finally touches you, you keen.

He cups you fully, his palm resting over your pulsating core and thumb starting to rub your clit. You feel his pad tickling the tight bundle of nerves before dipping his fingers lower to tease at your entrance.

"Fuck."

You smell your own blood and arousal thick in the air, and it's so primal and raw that you feel lightheaded.

Seungmin presses in, his fingertip just dipping into you, and you drop your head against the pillow with a long a whine.

"You look beautiful." He murmurs. He inches his middle finger deeper and you can feel the squelching noise your pussy is letting out. The gushing sound reverberates in the room and it makes your head spin.

He presses the heel of his hand down and grinds it against your core, while he places his other hand on the lowest part of your belly.

"You look so good between my legs." You breathe out, circling your hips into his touch. His finger is fully inside inside you, but you are so wet that you need something more to feel stuffed.

Seungmin chuckles and he kisses your abdomen, pushing his finger in and out and pulling lewd noises out of you.

"Give me another one."

"Yes." He eases another finger into you, circling your folds with his pad before fucking it into you.

"Good boy."

He holds your body steady with his arm around your left thigh. He crooks his fingers to rub against the spongy spot inside you and your leg twitches. Your whole body is thick with desire and you feel so sensitive that you could come just from the obscene sound of Seungmin fucking your own blood into you.

He keeps you open like this for a few minutes, thrusting his fingers inside, and then smearing all of your liquids around your folds. Then he curls them again deeper into you.

When he slides his third finger in, you can feel yourself dripping on his wrist. And it should be gross, it should be revolting, but the only thought your brain can produce is hot hot hot hot. You bring your hand down and grab Seungmin's forearm, regulating his pushes and feeling his muscles flexing under his skin as he fuck you steadily.

"I wan' taste." Seungmin hums after a minute. His chocolatey eyes are staring hungrily at the way you pussy ingulfs his fingers.

"Yes, fuck. Taste me." You moan, the noises stuck in your throat come out groggy and low.

You drop the hand that was holding his arm and Seungmin just leans in, tongue lolling out of his mouth before he brings his lips on your pussy, flicking his warm muscle on your clit.  

You hiss and your body tense up feeling Seungmin get lost in you. He closes his lips around your bundle of nerves and he sucks, hard.

"Seungmin."

You moan, hips bucking into his face while he dips his tongue against your entrance and you let out an audible gasp. Your eyes flick down to meet his, fully blown out with arousal. He pulls his tongue out and he keeps giving kitten licks, as if he was savoring a rich glass of wine.

Your head fall back on the pillow as you let him continue. Seungmin brings his fingers to your entrance once again, and he push just his index in, licking a fat strip from your entrance to your clit, purring with enjoyment.

"Taste good?" you ask, and you sound out of breath. Everything is so hot around you and you feel more drops of blood gushing out of you.

"You cannot believe how good." Seungmin whispers, looking up to meet your eyes and licking you deep at the same time.

The whole room is almost dark, the few lights that are still on don't allow you to see Seungmin in his interity. But it's enough for you to see him almost suffocating himself in your drooly cunt with your blood smeared on the corner of his mouth.

"Baby... Min, god. Need you inside."

Seungmin hums against your folds and sucks one more time before he wipes his mouth on his own wrist, pressing a wet kiss on your inner thigh.

He reaches down to fumble with the elastic band of his pants, clumsily tugging his erection free from the constriction of his underwear as he leans into you and smashes his lips against yours. You moan loudly when he opens his mouth and swirls his tongue inside, the metalic taste of your blood filthy and intoxicatic. Seungmin bites on your lower lip, and then he soothes it with his tongue. Everything is so raw that you feel yourself getting close already.

"It's not gonna be impressive." He whispers, bringing his hand down to messily stroke himself, thrusting into his own fingers just a couple of times. You can feel his tip bumping into your hip, all red and puffy, precum dribbling on your skin.

"I didn't touch you". You huff on his lips, licking his cheek and biting it lazily.

"You tasted too good. I almost came." He admits. He brings his cock in front of your pussy and he slides its chubby head on your clit. There is a mess of blood, spit and slick all mixing together and you moan at the feeling.

"Don't care. I am close. I jus' need your cum."

Seungmin swallows, fidgeting a little as his cock taps against your swollen clit. You circles your hips against him and your pussy catches the tip. You kiss him.

"Baby, Minnie. Wanna see my blood and your cum leak out of me after you fuck me nice and hard?"

Seungmin lets out a small noise at that, biting his lip. You can tell he is close by the way his breathes come out staggered.

"Yes, please". He agrees, finally pushing himself inside of you in one thrust, trying his best not to come immediately.

You moan pleasantly at the strech as he bottoms out. You feel his swollen balls rest on the fat of your thighs and from the sound you hear, you are making a mess on the bed sheets under you. You try to remember why is this the first time you are doing this, and you cannot find a reason.

Seungmin is shivering on top of you, and he delivers a first shallow push. You sigh in pleasure and he starts rocking his hips against yours. The wet sounds fill the room together with Seungmin's sweet hiccups. He held back for too long, and now he cannot help himself no more.

You cup his chin with your hands and you press a light kiss on his lips.

"You like it Minnie, uh? How long did you wait for this? You could have asked, you know. I would have said yes from the first time. I would have let you shove your cock inside me and cover it in blood. All nice and wet for you. Nasty boy."

Seungmin blushes heavily as you open youd legs, lowering a hand to spread apart your folds.

"Cum inside me, c'mon."

His thrusts are messy and errating, unable to bring himself to look at you in the eyes out of embarrassment. You dig your nails into his broad shoulders and he whines loudly as he pushes frenetically into you.

It is just a matter of time considering how close both of you have been from the start. The wet sounds that come with every thrust, together with the sight of your pussy stretched around his cock, are so sinful that Seungmin has to look away, a tight ring of slick and blood forming on his girth.

"G'na cum." He stutters, giving a few hard thrusts.

You nod and bring your hand in between your bodies to start rubbing at your puffy clit. The pressure combined with Seungmin's thrust is enough to bring to to the edge in a few seconds, and with your free hand you cup his face and you kiss him deep.

"Cum, baby boy. Fill me up."

Seungmin trembles and gives two final pushes inside of you before hitting his limit, groaning out as he cums. His fingers grips tight at your legs as he spurts hot cum all over your walls.

You whine as you feel his sperm coating your insides, dragging your nails down his back and letting out a loud moan as you finally cum around him, pussy swollen and tight, milking him till his last drop.

After what it seems to be hours, Seungmin collapses onto you and pants on your neck, his soft bangs all sweaty and curly on his face. You catch your breath for a few seconds before feeling him pulling out.

As his softening cock is pulled out of you, you feel all of your liquids leaking out of your entrance, mixed with his cum. You whine and Seungmin kisses your chin.

"Did I hurt you? Are you alright?"

"You didn't hurt me. I am great." You move your head to face him and he kisses your cheek. Then your nose. Then your lips. "I am just concerned about the state of our bed."

"Oh, well. I think Jeff Dahmer had a cleaner bed." He chuckles, after taking a quick look at the sheets underneath. "It's my fault. I will clean them myself."

"You better." You laugh. Seungmin laughs with you and it's a soft exhalation of breath that tickles your cheek.

"Yes ma'am". He shifts a little in your embrace, and you turn over so your cheek can rub against his shoulder.

"Does it still hurt?" He asks.

You let it out on a satisfied sigh, your cramps long forgotten. “Nope.”

"Good." He smiles softly and he kisses you on your forehead. You wrap your arms tightly around him and bite his shoulder.

"How can you always know... wait, no, it doesn’t matter."

The voices of your kdramas are still a background noise.

Seungmin chuckles. "I told you. I love you. I always know."

©️ jilixthinker, 2024. please do not copy, translate, or republish my works anywhere.

[novashelby]

Like Fine Wine-Tom Hardy x Reader

Pairing: Tom Hardy Warning: Perhaps language? Innuendos? Honestly, I didn't mean it, but this is a total crack fic. He's also not very sober and he's forgotten he's veg. I don't know if I should apologize or not for this garbage. It was suppose to be sexy. Word Count: 1k Summary: After being stood up, Tom Hardy saves the day.

Please feed your writers with comments. We like snacks.

She wasn’t one to fuss over much. Life sort of just happened and that was that. What was the point of bitching? However, after spending hours doing her makeup and hair, ironing her favorite dress, and squeezing on her favorite heels, she couldn’t help, but feel a bit miffed. Sorry. Something came up. Rain check? When she heard the ding, she was excited to flip over her phone, but with each word, she felt her chest cave in. Dating was getting tiresome. Week after week of flops. He’d already been about forty-five minutes late, and her? On her second glass of red wine that began to stain her lips. “Prick,” she whispered, throwing her phone in her bag and sitting up straight. He wasn’t even man enough to call for the reservation earlier that day.

Someone once told her, if he wants to, he will. And he clearly fucking didn’t want to, that was bloody fucking sure. Opening the menu, she sighed as her eyes glanced over the options. It was a bitch of a place to get in, and she sure as hell wasn’t going to misuse her pulled strings. But as she contemplated between a filet mignon or braised pork…or maybe the mushroom risotto? The back of her head jumped through hoops debating whether or not bitch him out. And when her fingers gripped the menu so tight, she no longer could feel the tips, she slammed the menu down and grabbed her phone. Her face scrunched as she furiously texted: I don’t know if your mother has ever told you or not, but maybe you shouldn’t be 45 minutes late just to fucking cancel! Have a nice life and maybe stay single.

Oh, and one more thing, fuck you. 

With that, she blocked the fucker and turned off her phone, slamming it back in her bag. She wasn’t just going to get the most expensive steak, but that side of cheesy mashed potatoes and shrimp, too. The waiter came over, empathetic, and offered a glass of house wine for free. She mumbled a thank you, “could I put in an appetizer as well?” He hummed and flipped open his pad. “Crab cakes-oh! And the salmon bites. That’s all.” And when he started to walk away, she called him, “and you know what, I’m probably going to get dessert, too. Extra chocolate lava cake, two scoops of ice cream, and some extra syrup on the side.”

She handed him the menu, and sunk down in her seat, sipping the wine, staring off into the distance. Of course she was wondering what was wrong with her, but nothing was wrong with her. Men these days just aren’t…men. All I want is one to look at me and think, yes, I want her. 

As she wallowed in self pity, eying each dish as it came out, there was someone eying her. Just at the bar, he sat slightly turned, sipping his drink. He loved an independent woman. A lady not afraid to be in her own company and enjoy good food. Especially that much fucking food…fuck. He wasn’t judging, of course. Impressed, more like it. And to be honest, quite hungry as well. Her main course came out and she dug in, not caring if the grease coated her lips or if little pieces of meat stuck to her face. 

A beautiful woman doing what any beautiful woman should do, enjoy good food and good wine. The way she licked her thumb and closed her eyes everytime a new piece went into her mouth. He slid off the stool and fixed his black sports jacket before shooting down his drink, and taking long strides her way. When he approached, she was too busy sucking the meat off the bone to notice he pulled the chair opposite of her out. It screeched against the marble floor. If he was any less sober, he would have fallen into the table.  

Her eyes fluttered up, and she paused, the bone dropping to the plate. Both their drunken eyes met. What a dumbass, she thought, scrunching her face as he gave her a toothy grin and wiggled his eyes a bit. “Can I help you?” She wiped her mouth, and tossed the cloth on the table.

He leaned in, pointing his finger at her, and in a long slur said, “you look like you need a woman like a man like to share-that wasn’t it.” He blinked, swallowed and shook his head. “A man like you needs a cake like me to share that woman.” That’s when he reached over and swiped her cheek with his thumb and licked it. The man was so drunk, he forgot he was bloody fucking vegan. 

She sat up, looking around for her waiter, wondering if anyone else saw this strange man. But when she looked back at him, through her drunken haze, she realized she knew him from somewhere. Not quite sure where, but somewhere. Tilting her head, she asked, “do we know each other?”

His toothy grin widened as he took her spoon and shoved it into her lava cake, digging out a big ol’ slice. The chocolate dripped down, making little spots across the table. He shoved it in his, making a mess. His crisp white shirt was stained, and the chocolate coated over and between his teeth. Reaching back over, he stabbed the cake once more before motioning her to move in. “C’mere,” he said. “C’mon!” A bit too puzzled to question, she slid her chair over and he grabbed her face, puckering, squeezing her cheeks to open her mouth. Once her mouth opened just enough to fit the spoon, he shoved it in. Choking slightly, she dabbed her mouth with the napkin. 

Conflicted, she grabbed her phone and searched, swearing she knew him. But she was having a hard time believing it. When typing the name, his picture showed up and she compared. Looking at the phone, looking at him eating her cake. Slowly, her eyes mooned, but before she could say anything, the waiter said, “Mr. Hardy, we called you a taxi. They’re out front.” He slowly got up, wobbling a bit. Reaching over, he tapped her cheek.

“Thank you for this beautiful night,” he said before sighing. “Why should it end here?”

She looked at the waiter and at him, and hummed. “Pay for dinner?”

He took out his wallet, fumbling with his card all while saying. “Take the cake…and the bottle of wine.” She didn’t argue, shoving the wine in her purse and holding the cake to her desk, hurrying after him.

[storiesofsvu]

Decadent Desires Ch 12

Emily Prentiss x fem!reader warnings: language, minor political/bau issues mentioned/talked about, smut eluded to. We've come back to the chapters that jump through moments in time! This is also the time that you read this, then skim through the series and see if you can pick up on the foreshadowing cause next chapter is what it was leading up to lol. I'm going to crack down and fly through as many chapters in a row of this series while writing and queue them for once a week. LMK if that timeline seems okay or if it should be more frequent or less, I wanna continue that habit for new series!

Heather was seated at one of the window side tables at Peacock Alley inside the Waldorf, a coffee and a bloody mary in front of her while she looked through the menu. Her gaze drifted out the window, wondering if she was there too early, if you were running behind or if it was a combination of both. Just as she was about to check her phone for both the time and conformation, she spotted what she was sure was your car pulling up to the valet.

Sure enough, you slipped out of it, passing the keys and a wad of cash over to the worker with a sweet smile before tossing your bag onto your arm and making your way to the hotel entrance. Her head tilted in confusion but before she could really get lost in her thoughts you had rounded the corner into the lobby restaurant, sunglasses pushed back onto your head as you glanced around in search of her. A small smile took over your lips when you spotted her, hurrying over to the table.

“You’re early.” You greeted, placing your purse down on the windowsill as you slipped into your seat.

Heather shrugged, “she got clingy, I kicked her out before she could start begging for room service and the girlfriend treatment.”

You nearly snorted, shaking you head at the other woman, “I didn’t realize you were entertaining.”

“Rob’s out of town, both the kids are on campus, you were occupied so I was bored.” She replied, picking up her coffee for a sip when the waiter came over to start you on your own drinks and you figured you may as well match Heather.

“Thought your go to place was the Conrad.” You asked, settling in as your drinks were dropped off and you could take a couple of sips.

“It is. But she was brand new and I wanted to be cautious, figuring we were meeting here in the morning I made it convenient.” She took a sip of her coffee, a brow raised in your direction, “which is why I’m particularly curious as to why you were pulling up to the valet instead of coming from the elevator.”

“I came from home.”

“Did we not plan to meet here for as little hassle as possible? We could have just met at my place if your date fell through.”

“It didn’t fall through.” Your brow scrunched, not able to get an immediate reply from Heather as the waiter came over to take your orders. You opting for a quinoa power bowl while she went with the mushroom and asparagus omelet.

“Did you change hotels?” Heather asked as the waiter left the table.

“No.” You shook your head, “we were at her place.”

“Oh?” She asked with slightly wide eyes and you laughed.

“Emily’s sick of not sleeping in her own bed. And to be completely honest I was getting bored of hotel life too.” You glanced up to catch the look on her face and you rolled your eyes, “Heather, this isn’t like one of us is some money hungry twenty something who’s going to go psychotic when the other one won’t leave her husband for her. Not everything mimics your life experiences.”

“So you’re not getting all domesticated on me?” She asked with a smirk, “because I need that wild, spitfire woman for work.”

“No.” You nearly grimaced, “we’re still going out for fancy dinners and shit, the sex is just occurring in a different environment and with a plethora of more toys.”

“Mmm.” She replied over a sip of her bloody mary, “so whose place were you at last night?”

“Hers.”

“You stay over?”

“Yes.”

“Careful.” She chided.

“What?” You asked her, your nose scrunching in confusion and she simply chuckled.

“Never mind.” She took another sip of her coffee, “you know… I saw Jackie the other day.”

“Not a surprise considering your line of work.” You replied, hoping the sudden heat on your cheeks wasn’t as present as it felt. “How is she?”

“Had one hell of a hickey on her neck… said she finally got around to having some good fun a couple of weeks ago.”

“Good for her.” You bluffed.

“Huh.” Heather clicked her tongue.

“What?” You huffed, wanting to move onto the next subject.

“Were you too drunk or too horny to realize that it was my main driver who picked you up from the club?” She smirked over the rim of her glass, “and to think you didn’t even bother to call me.”

“Heather it was nearly five in the morning.” You replied dryly, “besides, you always have to be in control of everything, you get power hungry in group situations, dynamic never would have worked.”

“Oh…” there was a devilish grin on her lips as she leant back in her chair, “so tell me then… did they gang up on you or was poor Jackie your little play toy?”

“Please.” You laughed, your voice quieting, “you know that’s what she prefers.”

“Tell me more.” With a smirk, she leant in, her elbow on the table, chin propped up in her hand.

“Absolutely not.” You shook your head, eyeing her up, “but I guess now would be the time to point out that hickey on your neck…”

“What?” Heather’s hand shot to her neck, gently prodding at the skin until she found the sensitive spot, “fucking brat. I told her no marks!”

“And that’s why you’ve got to make better choices.” You shrugged, leaning back in your chair, “I’m careful to not leave marks.”

“That’s because you don’t bite hard enough.” She nearly scowled, digging into her purse to pull out a compact and do the best coverage job she could in the meantime.

You were left laughing, the topic finally diminishing as food was swiftly delivered. Heather, having had enough of being prodded and teased slid the compact back into her purse and picked up her fork.

“How are we doing for next week’s assembly?”

“I’ve got Harris, Tart and Durant set up for speakers, Ashley’s been finishing shirts, banners, badges and stickers and Colton’s been going door to door every day this week.”

“Good.” She took a bite of food, “where are we with backing from Underwood?”

“Working on it. He’s been out of State so often it’s been hard enough to track him or Claire down even for a phone call. I’ll get there soon, I promise.”

“Good girl.”

**

While your dates continued around the city, it almost felt like you had more freedom when you weren’t trying to stay in or near a specific hotel. Dinner or drinks could be closer to your place or Emily’s, wandering the waterfront on the way back to her apartment. While things were a little more comfortable, there were still some unspoken rules that the two of you simply continued to follow.

Emily always made sure the payment was sent to you within an hour of a date ending, whether that be midnight or eight in the morning the next day. You kept your dates limited to weekends, both to keep things on a running schedule and to try and avoid crossing over with work. Staying the night wasn’t required, it never had been in the hotels, especially if one of you knew you had a busy week and wanted a day to prepare for it or decompress from the weekend. There was nothing in the contract about cuddles and sweet dreams, it was about sex, enough aftercare that everyone was alright and money. There were nights you were too wiped to move, falling asleep before Emily could even fully check in with you and there were other nights that once you’d caught your breath, you were dressed and out the door. Emily would admit she did enjoy spending the nights in your bed, but she still missed her own just as much and if she was willing to drive at the late hour, she was pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek and heading home to it.

Some mornings you’d wake up tangled in each other’s limbs and take the time for some lazy morning sex, which usually ended up leading straight into round two, three or more as you fully woke up. Other mornings you would wake up to the sound of the shower, Emily prodding your side what felt like seconds later with a to go coffee cup and you were on your way home straight away.

Coffee was where it ended, there was never breakfast, never brunch or dilly dallying as you talked about your plans for the rest of the weekend. It was a quick shower, a coffee in a cardboard cup and an ‘I’ll call you’ to set up your next date. While you had dinner or drinks most nights, they were had out, it was never homecooked, no dancing around each other in the kitchen while you put together a meal. Bottles of wine were often left forgotten on the coffee table as Emily made a home between your legs, bringing you to your peak over and over again until you were tugging her off you to return the favour.

Emily’s apartment was normally your setting, her toy collection happened to be more extensive than yours and it seemed like there was always something new to discover and play with. It also helped her keep a semblance of control in her mind, you may have been playing this game for months now, but she was still wrapping her brain around exactly how things worked. She was still new to it, learning the ropes as she went and she wanted to make sure she was doing her best. When she was in her own apartment, it was her surroundings, she knew every nook and cranny and felt more relaxed and able to take control.

The lines were still in place, even if there was a change of scenery.

**

Emily heard an all to familiar beeping interrupting her dreams and she rolled onto her side, scrunching her eyes briefly in an attempt to keep them shut and regain whatever sleep she still had left in her. You coffee always auto brewed and most mornings the two of you ignored it if you wanted to sleep in or have a morning session before parting ways. A chill ran through the room and she let out a small shiver, shifting to pull the covers tighter around herself and was surprised at just how easily she suddenly had the entire duvet in her hands.

Begrudgingly cracking her eyes open she looked around the room, it was still dark, sunrise being later and later as the city sunk fully into autumn. Rolling onto her back she was able to assess that you definitely weren’t in bed with her, the bathroom light was off but the fan was on, a likely sign you’d had a shower and started your day already. The second sign being that your pyjamas were strewn over one of the chairs across from the bed, your phone absent from the nightstand.

She knew that you were likely letting her sleep until you absolutely had to kick her out, but the exhausted part of her was really hoping maybe this was a quick thing and you’d come back to bed. She perked up when a light at the bottom of the stairs flicked on, her ears picking up the sound of your voice. Either someone was over or you were on the phone, but either way you sounded far less than pleased.

Letting out a soft sigh she pushed up to sitting, stretching out her body and rubbing at her eyes as she willed herself out of bed and into the cool morning air. She tiptoed quietly over to the door, if you did have a house guest this early, you likely didn’t need them knowing that you’d had overnight company. After listening for a couple of minutes she determined that you were definitely on the phone, there was barely any time for someone else to get a word in and whenever they did, downstairs was silent aside from the pacing of your heels or sound of coffee brewing. Emily crossed the room again, quickly getting redressed and collecting her things, quietly making her way down the staircase to the main floor, finding you with your back to her.

“Patterson I swear to god if you hang up on me— Yes! I already know that. He doesn’t need a parent or guardian if he’s of age. Did he ask you to call her? No. Exactly—What did I just say? Like hell you need to print him! You’re not just toeing the line you’re by far crossing it! Don’t think I know you just want him booked to get your name all over the press, I’ll have your fucking badge.” A slight pause while you pinched at the bridge of your nose, a voice chattering on the other side of the line, “no. Of course I don’t think you’re just going to toss him back out onto the street. Mr. Dalton is already on his way down there to make sure you don’t think about breaking any other rules or laws and believe me I’ll be making a trip down there myself to talk to your Captain.” Hanging up the phone you dropped it to the island, stopping to take a hefty swig of coffee, “fuck.”

You finally turned back to the island, dropping onto a stool and pulling your laptop toward you, movement out of the corner of your eye causing you to glance up, jolting slightly as you realized Emily was on the same floor as you.

“Shit, sorry. I hope I didn’t wake you up.”

“No, no. Don’t worry about it.” She replied, smiling softly as she stepped into the room. You made a noise, gesturing toward the empty to go coffee mug beside the coffee pot and she took the hint, mixing it to her liking. “Anything I can help with?”

You nearly snorted, glancing up to her, “morally, ethically and legally? No.”

“Oh…kay…” She took a sip of the coffee to make sure it was right before popping the lid on and you let out a frustrated sigh.

“Jordan got picked up for a drunk and disorderly last night.”

“Jordan?”

“Heather’s son.” You grimaced.

“Ah.” She nodded, suddenly more than well aware the severity of the situation, “DUI?”

“Luckily he didn’t get that far. But this fucking prick Patterson… fucking white shield who thinks he’s hot shit…” you grumbled, “he pays paparazzi to follow around teenage and older kids of politicians, especially at bars or parties. Tips them off to whenever he knows security is escorting them, they get the pictures, he gets to swoop in and make a couple of bullshit arrests, they split the bank. He thinks its gonna be his way up the chain.”

“Sounds like a piece of shit.”

“He is.” You mumbled, “and now I get to spend the rest of the weekend putting out fires and trying to keep this out of the press and away from Heather. Lord knows she’ll only lose her shit and knowing Jordan he’ll turn something flammable into an explosion. I—” you were cut off by your phone ringing and you immediately picked it up, “Yeah? I don’t care that it’s only five in the morning, the car is coming to the back entrance and you are to get Jordan into it without a single soul seeing him. Drive him back home, make sure he’s in the guest house, I’ll call Rob.”

Emily picked up her coffee cup, tapping on the island to gather your brief attention, giving you a little wave thank you for the coffee and to let you know she was saying goodbye. All things considered the best option for her right now was to get out of your hair.

**

“Shit, shit, shit!”

Getting an early or overnight call for a case on a Saturday morning was already annoying as is, but this was linked to one of the cases they had been working on that week. Meaning the call was Penelope saying she’d found an out of state connection and everyone was to be at the jet in thirty. While Emily’s go bag was in the car, it only had enough outfits for a few days and the one she’d worn the night previous certainly wasn’t Section Chief appropriate.

“Take whatever you need.” You sleepily waved in the direction of your closet, flicking on the bedside lamp before rolling over and going back to sleep as she began to rummage through your clothes.

Emily made it to the jet just in the nick of time, dropping her bag and managing to grab a coffee and bottle of water before settling into an empty seat across from Tara. She could feel the other woman’s eyes on her, examining the outfit choice and she shifted in her seat, the shirt was definitely a little snug around her chest but it was the best option she could find quickly.

“That’s a nice colour.” Tara complimented, “looks really good on you.”

“Oh. Uh, thanks.”

“It new?”

“No,” she let out a semi awkward laugh, scrambling to come up with some kind of fib, “kind of old, figured I’d start cleaning out my closet last night, grabbed the first thing I could.” She shuffled in her seat again, tugging the fabric away from her chest before leaning forward to grab a case file, “what’d Garcia find? Do we know what we’re walking into?”

“Second page.” Tara replied, the corner of her lips curving up into a smirk and Emily could feel her cheeks burning pink, feeling like she was back in high school hiding a secret from her mother.

**

You sped through the doorway to Heather’s office, placing a now lukewarm coffee down on her desk as the check in that you were there before briskly turning around and she barely looked up from her laptop.

“Sorry, traffic on the I-395 was a fucking mess. I’ve never seen so many accidents this early in the morning.”

“It’s getting icy out there.” She replied, her eyes still on the screen in front of her, “turned the heater on in your office, you’re welcome.”

“Thank you.” You replied with a huff, barely making it to the doorway before the wheels started turning in Heather’s brain and she eyes shot up.

“Hold up!” She called and you froze on the spot, turning back to face her, “you live uptown…”

“Yup…” you nodded, feeling the heat creeping up the back of your neck.

“And if you were coming from the Waldorf you would have taken Pennsylvania.”

“Yes again.” You nodded, nearly gulping. Heather surveyed you for a moment, her eyes narrowing as her lips twitched up into a grin.

“It’s Thursday…”

“You ever heard of wine Wednesday Heather? Zooz has an incredible happy hour and it’s walking distance from Em���s.”

“Hmm.” Her head titled, “must be a nice place.”

“I have work to do.” You began to turn away again, but she called out once more.

“Speaking of, pick a hotel for Sarasota this morning and Elise will book it.”

“I thought we were going to Laguna?”

“They changed locations, something about the right hall not being available.” She shrugged, “at least Florida’s an excuse for a shopping trip.”

“Huh…” your head titled as a grin broke out on your lips, “I could use a new swimsuit.”

“Could always go without one.” She smirked back and you rolled your eyes.

“Very professional.”

“We’ll have a private terrace.” She replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“And here I thought I was picking the hotel.”

“You’ll pick something suitable; cost isn’t a concern.” She shrugged, “I’m not going to be slumming it in Florida for a week and not indulge.” Her eyes flicked up and down your body, “hell, why don’t you call Tony, take the afternoon to get some shopping done.”

“He’d love that.” You laughed as you thought it over.

“I’m sure he’s not the only one.” She replied, tilting the screen of her laptop back as her eyes fell back down to it once again, a smirk remaining on her lips.

**

Girl’s night at Garcia’s always meant a couple of cocktails and when Tara had offered to drive, having to be up early the next morning, everyone was on board. JJ was the first drop off, leaving Emily in the front seat with Tara navigating the streets of Washington.

“What is going on with you?” Tara asked, a small laugh leaving her lips as she glanced over at the other woman.

“What?”

“Your nerves are radiating off you and you keep shifting in your seat like a dog that hasn’t figured out if he’s going to the park or the vet.”

She laughed, “it’s nothing. I just went from not really recognizing the street to realizing I’ve got a friend who lives around here.”

Tara glanced at her watch, “it’s not that late, if you wanna make a pit stop or for me to drop you somewhere, I can do that.”

“No, no don’t worry about it.”

“Emily,” she prodded, “c’mon. I can keep a secret.”

“It’s nothing like that!” She swatted at her hand, “just haven’t seen her in a bit.”

“Call her or I’m pulling over the car.”

“I—what?” Her eyes darted up to the other woman who suddenly pulled into the right lane, “okay, okay!”

Your phone began to buzz on your desktop and you let out a soft sigh, thankful for the interruption as you pulled off your glasses, blinking your eyes a few times as you picked it up.

“Walton.”

“Hey, it’s Emily.”

“Oh, hey!” A smile crept onto your face, “what’s up?”

“I.. uh.. I was just in the neighbourhood, figured I’d see if you wanted to grab a drink?”

This sigh you let out this time was much wearier one that Emily could practically feel, “I would absolutely love to but I’m still at the office and likely will be for a few more ours.”

“On a Saturday?”

“Yup.” You exaggerated the word, popping the ‘p’, “bunch of extra tasks on hand this week and we’ve been spread pretty thin. I definitely can’t go anywhere until the boss does.”

“Shit.” She muttered and you reached across your desk for your agenda, flipping through a couple of pages.

“Looks like I can squeeze you in on Tuesday? Probably not ‘til ten at the earliest and I wouldn’t be able to stay.”

“No, no, don’t worry about it, the usual weekend is fine.”

“Weekend is all conference prep and we fly out Monday afternoon.”

“I would hate to add to your schedule, we can wait until you’re back.”

“It’s fine.” You laughed softly, “lord knows I could use the relief.”

“Alright.” She chuckled, “I’ll see you Tuesday.”

“I’ll call once I’m finished up, let you know when I’m on my way.”

“Sounds good. Bye.”

“Bye.”

Emily dropped her phone with a soft sigh, sliding it back into her pocket, a sense of relief washing over her when Tara pulled back into the left lane and signalled to make the turn towards her original destination.

“I thought you hadn’t seen her in a while?”

“Huh?” Emily’s brow furrowed as she looked up at her.

“’The usual weekend is fine’?” Tara raised an eyebrow, “who have you been meeting up with every week?”

“No one.” She fibbed, sinking deeper into the seat of the car.

“Oh come on Emily.” She laughed, “doesn’t take much to realize you’ve been spending time doing something other than work. You actually don’t reply to non urgent work texts on the weekends anymore, better moods Monday mornings…”

“No profiling the profiler!” Emily protested, punching Tara’s arm, “I thought I was getting a nice ride home, not an interrogation.”

“Okay, okay.”

Tara held up a hand in surrender, shaking her head at the other woman as she pulled up in front of Emily’s building. She said a quick thank you and goodnight, pulling out her phone when she was waiting for the elevator. If you were working this late on the weekend the least she could do was send over some dessert as a pick me up.

__________________

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[neonovember]

Request: Sam Wilson x younger, platonic! reader

Plot: Reader relaxing around Sam’s place in Louisiana-Bucky can be in it, reader’s relationship with him would be platonic or familial.

Louisiana Sun

steve, sam, bucky x platonic!daughter!reader, generous nods (i practically wrote a whole confession) to sarahbucky

things; dad!steve rogers moments, over protective steve, reader makes some risky decisions, bucky and same are basically your uncles, bucky is in love with sarah and louisiana by extension, 

w/c; 4k (reader had to do a lot of convincing to let steve believe she wont get kidnapped in the presence of two soldiers)

You’ve never felt love like you did in Louisiana. 

The sun baked grass, the humid winds kissing your shoulder. The vibrancy of colour and life that explodes on the streets, and in the caring waves of neighbours. 

You taste home whenever Steve drives you up to Sam’s rickety gate, slamming the car door open to his objection and running through the winding bend of grass and willow trees. You can't wait for Steve to pull into Sam’s drive way, the bleached wooden porch calls to you in a way you can’t ignore.

So you find it exceptionally painful whenever Steve is swarmed with so much work he can’t make the drive up. And there was no way Steve would even let you take a plane ride by yourself, he says it’s cause he’d be too afraid but you think it’s because you help with the dishes.

It’s Friday evening at the Rogers, a night of pizza and Noir crime films you both adore. It’s spring break, and you've spent every waking hour with Steve cooped up at home. You don't mind it, it has made up for a lot of the father daughter time missed between missions. But god you can’t come back to school and say you spend the holidays with Captain America again.

“So..Sam called” You murmur, fainting nonchalance whilst you watch his every expression out of the corner of your eye. Gene Tirney’s whiskey voice blares from the TV screen in front of you.

“Uhm?” Steve replies with his mouth full.

“Yeah, he was wondering when I’d come down again to see ‘em. Bucky’s spending some time there too, helping out with the boat and Sarah” You reply, stretching your arms out in front of you.

“And what did you say” Steve replies after wiping away the smudges of sauce from his chin, eyes widening

“I said I’ll have to check with Corporal Rogers first” You tease

“Hey, I’m not anywhere near..”

“Dad we haven’t left this house in weeks, I’m not going to go another week locked in here” You reply

“I let you go places..remember Monday?”

“When you asked me to buy your cream of mushroom from the Bodega?!” You shriek, eyes boggling.

“Yes..?” Steve replies unsure, eyebrows furrowing

“That was a chore. For your own benefit by the way, I mean who in their right mind likes cream of mushroom?” You reply

“Ay, I’m not going to let you disrespect my taste in food for the second time today” Steve replies

“Oh please, I barely said anything about your choice of onions as a pizza topping-

“My pizza topping?? I was reconsidering dinner when you wanted pineapples. Fruit should not belong on pizza, there are rules. When I was your age we had-”

“To boil everything or else we’d get tetanus and die” You moan, rolling your eyes 

“No..when I was your age I don't think pineapples even made it to New York yet” Steve murmurs, hand on his chin as if to truly consider it.

“Are you sure you're my father?” You reply, and are met with a soft cushion flying towards you.

“Work’s just been a lot lately kid. And I miss you too darn much to let you leave my sight. You know how I am, I see kids go missin’ everyday. Don’t know what I’d do if that happened to you cause I was reckless”

“You aren't getting sick of my face?”

“Never”

“You’re not being reckless Dad, I’m going to be with Sam for gods sake, and Bucky too! In Louisiana of all places! They probably mug you with bugnes as pistols” You giggle

“Don’t joke about that"

“Oh come on! You both were on a team for like eighty years, you don't trust them?”

“Of course I trust them, they’re your designated ‘if i get in a freak accident they take over’ people.

“Hey! Don’t joke about that” You quip

“I just like knowing you're near” Steve replies after chuckling

“I could just stay for a weekend! I’ll be back before you know it. Swear” You plead.

“You say that now..” Steve cocks his eyebrows, part of him knew you'd stay six months there if you could

You put on your best heartbroken pouted face whilst Steve goes through the motions of being finally convinced. His eyebrows furrow, his hand coming up to scratch at his golden locs as he considers it.

His shoulders slump, and before he can even say a gruntled “Fine..” You’re cheering, getting up to twirl around the lamp lit living room. Steve chuckles at your antics, eyes glinting with light at the sight of you jumping in happiness.

He knew he’d say yes in the end. You're his little girl, he can’t ever say no to you.

“Whilst you're up, switch out Laura for somethin’ else. We still got a checklist to get through”

“Isn’t it getting close to your bed time, senior citizen?” You giggle, reaching for the box of recorded movie tapes under the bookshelf dresser.

“Age ain't going to stop me from showing you what good cinema is” Steve barks, reaching for his glass of water gingerly.

You’re half through the Maltese Falcon, Sam Spade flickering his cigarette in flashes of black and white when Steve's phone rings.

He groans loudly, lying on his back with his legs stretched and laying on the coffee table with the bitten edges of pizza crust left over. The couch buzzes beneath your weight, somewhere deep within the crevices near spare change and ink pens it vibrates.

“You gonna get that old man?” You turn to Steve, mouth filled with cheesy saucy bread

“Easy now Rogers, and finish your mouthful” 

You roll your eyes as Steve searches under the blanket stretched across you both, a sound of triumph leaves his throat when he grasps the metallic slick edges.

“Rogers” Steve grunts into the phone

“Ah Fury…Mhmm..didn’t they have Clint on that?..Right..”

You raise your eyebrows at the conversation between Steve and Fury, Steve pinches the bridge of his nose as he plops his head back against the head of the couch.

“For three weeks? Fury, you know I got Y/N to take care of. It’s why I transferred out of the field, it isn’t ‘cause I like reading” Steve murmurs, eyes cutting to you

Your eyebrows widen at that, mouthing to ‘pass the phone’ to Steve who shakes his head at you. Growing impatient, and longing to see Sam, Bucky and Sarah you make a mental note to blame them for the scolding of a century as you reach and swipe the phone from Steve's lazy grip.

“Yeah, I don’t know Fury- HEY”

“This is Steve Rogers manager speaking, yes he can and will be there for the mission”

“Y/N” Fury replies, his voice lit with a hint of humour at your antics.

You wrestle to escape Steve's reflexes, luckily you're a teenage girl who wants something so you're obviously faster. You throw the same pillow Steve had thrown at you before in his face, running behind the couch with the phone tucked between your ear and shoulder, poking your tongue out at Steve.

“Hey Fury! How’s the wife and kids” You remark

“Who told you about my wife and kids”

“Oh Fury, think those confidential documents are safe from a certain Spider?”

“Goddamit Parker..” Fury mutters

You doge a flying pillow headed your way, Steve’s face growing red with frustration at you missing every hit. Super soldier my ass.

“Where’ll Steve be stationed?”

“Prague-wait, aren’t you twelve? I hate to say it but the soldiers right, you can’t just be left alone-”

“One word Fury. Louisiana, Beignets and a bird”

“That’s three words”

“Yeah well I ain't twelve but I didn’t correct you on that did I?”

“I’m an old man, Y/N” Fury replies gruffly

“I’m pretty sure you were in the hospital hallway at my birth..” You murmured

“How did you-?!” Fury replies

You're too busy skipping zig zag across the living room to escape the pieces of pizza, cushions and cd covers flying your way to hear him. You heard it once that it helps dodge bullets, and with the horsepower behind your own fathers arm, you think it matches.

“Makes sense anyways, there isn't a Wilson and Barnes without a Rogers nearby. You guys are like goddamn pack members” Fury replies “Let Steve know to be packed and ready by Sunday”

“Bye Fury” You giggle, swiping the red button before throwing the phone immediately at Steve who lunges for it.

Running to hide behind the first thing you see, you peek out from the forked leaves of a potted plant to see a very angry and very dishevelled Steve.

“Is now a good time to say I got a 90 on my science quiz?” You reply with a gulp

You’re smart enough not to run out the car seat the second Sam’s house comes into view, despite the itchiness festering in your bones driving though Louisiana and not being able to finally set your feet down onto it.

Steve called Sam the next morning, and you had already packed a suitcase of clothes and necessities a few days prior. You always felt healed after every road trip, and tuning out blues and Leon Bridges whilst driving through the country felt like a respite in itself.

As Steve pulls into the dirt drive way, you see Sam perches on the deck waving towards you both. You squeeze your hands into fists until he switches the ignition off, and then you are too. The car door springs open and you're rushing into Sam’s arms, giggling as he twirls you around till you're dizzy and sick.

“You’re Father has been keeping you from us” Sam says, shooting an accusatory dagger towards Steve who has begun to unload your belongings.

“Hello to you too Sam” Steve shouts from behind the open boot with a gruff voice. 

Bucky’s booming voice makes its appearance before he does, rounding the corner of the back yard wiping grease off his hands onto a dirty old rag.

“If it isn’t Miss Rogers! Took ya long enough” He replies, pulling you into a tight protective hug whilst Steve sets your duffel bags on the porch edge.

Sam turns to Steve, pulling him into a hug as well, his hand slapping his back with a loud umph.

“Shame you couldn’t stay over here as well” Sam says

“Fury. Clint needs some help down in Nové Město” Steve says tiredly after embracing Bucky.

“When Duty calls” You reply 

“Steve answers” Bucky and Sam say in unison.

“It wasn’t me this time” Steve points at you accusingly “The drive up here made me start regretting it enough. Lay off will ya”

“It was okay? We’ve been getting some Black bear sightings along Wood Lake” Sam replies

“We were all right. At least I won’t have a nagging buzz in my ear the drive back” Steve teases,

“Hey!” You reply, playfully pushing his shoulder.

“Don’t worry Y/N, You’re ours now. You no longer have to face that tyrant” Bucky chirps, pulling his hair back into a bun.

“And this tyrant” Steve shifts, looking down at his watch “needs to start heading back” 

“Already? Can’t stay for lunch, Sarah’s making her seafood boil” Sam replies

Steve audibly groans, rocking on the balls of his feet as he shakes his head at the thought of missing out on Sarah Wilson's Louisiana renowned seafood.

“She is? Oh my god that better not be a lie Sam” You reply. Sarah’s cooking was like no other, you’ve been begging her to hurry up and make the next best selling cookbook.

“Yup, she's got me on shucking duty” Bucky says, feigning exasperation that held very thinly over the clear adoration Bucky had whenever he talked about Sarah.

You look towards Steve, and he raises his eyebrows as you both communicate silently. Bucky was head over heels in love with Sarah Wilson, it was getting annoying seeing them do this dance.

“Alright, time for goodbyes Kiddo” Steve replies after stifling the smirk that tugs at his mouth whilst he watches Bucky crane his neck at the sound of Sarah coming through the door.

“Steve Grant Rogers, you better not have thought of leaving without giving me a proper hello” Sarah calls, her dark coils pulled into a high bun that has begun to uncurl and frame her face.

“Tsk, Sarah. Of course I wouldn't leave before seeing the better Wilson.

“You got that right” Sarah chuckles, pulling Steve into a hug. Sam grumbles profanities under his breath as he rolls his eyes.

“Where are the boys?” 

“Staying with a friend, did ya'll know something about this ‘hoverboard’ mess that's going around?” Sarah questions, exhaustion clear in her tone from dealing with two children wanting something.

“Could probably call Tony and he’d just make one for you” Steve replies with a chuckle at Sarah’s tone.

“Great idea soldier. Knew you were gonna leave early so I packed you a little somethin’ for the road” Sarah smirks, passing the tote bag on her shoulder that even you could smell had something decadent wrapped in careful parchment.

“Sarah Wilson, the woman you are” Steve replies, grasping the bag gingerly with a sigh as he peers into the wrapped dish.

“Ya can say that again” Bucky mutters softly under his breath, his hand coming up to scratch at the nape of his neck as Sarah shifts her gaze to him.

“Okay, I’ll admit it I’m gonna miss you oldie” You say, rocking n your feet as the feeling of separation begins to settle.

“Com ‘ere kid” 

You quickly run into the open arms of Steve, blinking back tears as you lean your head on his broad shoulder. Rocking back and forth in his embrace Steve caresses your back tenderly.

“I’ll be back before you know it. We might even stay a bit longer when I do come back” Steve whispers in your ear.

You lift your head “Really? You mean that?” You whisper, as you meet his gaze, searching for any sign of a lie.

“When have I ever lied?”

“Well there was that one time you said you weren't scared of spiders..” You reply before Steve quickly cuts you off

“Okay that's enough”

You giggle, before Steve squeezes you in his arms. Shaking his head as you both part and he sets you back down.

“Never gets easier saying goodbye'' Steve replies, before moving to embrace Sam and Bucky, and placing a chaste kiss on Sarah's cheek before turning back to you.

“Now, call me before bed and in the morning, okay?” Steve replies, his tone morphing into an authoritarian lilt.

“Yep, and I'll text you some photos and videos throughout” You reply sweetly, as Steve nods along with unblinking eyes.

“What are you doing”

“I’m just taking a mental note of how you look exactly as I left you, and I will notice any piercings, hair changes and god forbid tattoos-”

“Okay, okay, just take a photo while you’re at it”

Steve shuffles on his feet, moving the back to his shoulder as he pulls out his phone

“Oh you aren’t actually-” You say, before the flash of Steve's camera cuts you off midway.

“Alright, I think I’m good to go” Steve replies, before nodding your playful punch on his shoulder.

You walk Steve to the car, hugging him goodbye again before Sam and Bucky exchange some information about something confidential, top secret, and definitely one you shouldn't listen in on.

But you do. 

And it’s boring anyway.

The kitchen is bustling by mid afternoon, shells of craw fish and prawns scattered on the table counter and the dirty water of shelled oysters flowing down the edge of the grassy front lawn. 

The smells of cajun seasoning and buttered corn leaves you asking Sarah when it's done every five minutes till she’s banishing you from the kitchen and sending you off with a lemonade.

You move through the littered toys and figurines AJ and Cass had left in their clear hurry to spend the night at a friend's and push the screen door open with your hip. Careful to not spill your drink, you take a seat on one of the rocking chairs on the porch with a sigh.

The sounds of the nearby pier docked with ships and fisherman makes its way even down the rocky dirt roads of Sam’s place, easy against the chirps and rustles of shrikes up above the oak and willow trees around the house. 

You don't come to Louisiana to escape noise, life is all around you when you pay attention to it. New York is always awake, even at night- especially at night. Louisiana has a kind of hum that’s different, it feeds your soul.

Curling your feet underneath you, the screen door opens with a wack as Bucky stumbles onto the porch. The moisture of the beer drips down his fingers as he sits down on the adjacent chair to you.

“Sarah kick you out too?” You reply with a giggle as Bucky grumbles under his breath.

“I was just askin’ if we need to make this much food for four people..” Bucky replies, shaking his head with regret as he rests it on the back of the chair.

“Ooh rookie move mister” You reply teasingly, before Bucky cuts his eyes to you

“Oh and asking the equivalent of “are we there yet” is any better” Bucky banters, taking a swing of his beer before immediately grimacing.

“How’s you get Steve to agree to leave you for three weeks” Bucky starts, bringing his feet up to rest against the porch wooden fence.

“Oh I didn’t, Fury called and I just snatched the phone and told him he’d be there” You replied

“And you’re still breathing?!” Bucky replies incredulously

“I’m shocked by myself. But what about you?”

“Me? What about me?” Bucky replies with an eyebrow raised

“Are you staying in Louisiana indefinitely? Makes it a lot easier to convince Dad to move down here too” You continue

“I..I don't know. Maybe. Helping Sam out with the boat and everything has been good. Really good in fact.  The people here aren't afraid of me..or this” Bucky points to the vibranium compartments of his arm.

“I wasn’t, I knew they wouldn't be too” You muse, smiling as Bucky looks up at you.

“Thanks kid. Finally starting to feel normal again, part of the community now I suppose. It’s weird, even back in Brooklyn i never felt so..a part of something before”

“Can’t just up and leave ‘em like I would’ve before. Especially when Sam needs my help”

“And Sarah” You add, hiding the smile behind a nonchalant nod.

“Yeah..Sarah” Bucky adds, his eyes glazing over as he leans back, eyes shifting to the towering tree leaves that cover half the sky.

You watch him carefully, seeing the way his leg jitters a little at the mere mention of Sarah, how so in love he is with her and you can’t help yourself anymore.

“You love her, don't you?” You murmur, as Bucky quickly swings his head to look at you.

“Hmp?”

“Sarah?” You inquire, raising your eyebrows with a smirk.

“I see the way you look at her,  the way you both look at each other, and I’m here practically every summer break. Which is never”

Bucky’s face morphs from shock to realisation, sitting upright as he scratches at his dark overgrown hair.

“You think she looks at me? I mean, in that way?” Bucky asks after a pregnant pause, his voice quiet and filled with anxious shyness. He can’t even look at you, looking out into the rounding hills of the roads and houses ahead.

“I know she does. Let it be the teenage girl who can tell who is acting like two love sick high schoolers” You grin, as Bucky’s eyes twinkle, unable to hide the adoration and love about to burst through.

“Or let that Chef who came down from Chicago swept her off her feet..what was his name again?” You tease, wiggling your eyebrows as you take a sip of your melting lemonade.

“Easy now, Rogers” Bucky replies with a bark, jaw clenching at the thought of Sarah being with anyone else.

“Foods ready!” Sam calls out from the kitchen window and Bucky helps you up from your seat, tipping out the last of his drink onto the stepped on grass before you both make your way back inside.

The thick book raised high above your face does little to block out the midday sun, you’re lying on the dock, the wooden planks warm underneath your shirt as the ends of your hair dip into the lake’s surface.

It’s a quiet hidden sort of mystical place, off the side of Sarah’s house where practically nobody but the Wilson's and by extension now you and Bucky now know about. Sarah divulged memories of spending new years here with the boys and their father years before, how it seemed likes their own little getaway.

The yellowed pages of Bucky’s first edition Hobbit flick between your fingers as you fly through the adventures of Bilbo and the fantastical realm of Erebor. You notice AJ and Cass’s squeals and laughter suddenly silent, and for the first time since you had laid down you sit upright looking across the grassy field.

The boy’s frisbee you had lost many games to earlier is dashed to the side, and as you wipe lazy exhaustion from your eyes to see Sam pull out a notebook and pen on the rug. Dusting off the dirt from the dock, you make your way through the grassy foxgloved trail towards him.

“Where did everyone go?” You question, throwing the book onto the soft cushioned floor.

“Bucky and Sarah had to take the boys home, AJ somehow ended up hurting himself on grass. And before you ask no I don’t know how” 

You giggle before plopping down on some cushions, stretching your arms out with a groan.

It’s easy to talk to Sam. About school, about New York, about life, everything.The unrelenting sun helps ease the discomfort of certain things sure, but Sam has always been your person.

“Whatcha doing?” You ask, looking at Sam scribble some things into the paper

“I like to write sometimes. Not for anyone else, just for myself. Can be about how I’m feeling some days, people I remember, hell even some poetry”

“I tried the whole journal taking thing, the counselor at school said it might be good since I don't have a “conventional family dynamic”. Psycho babble for, everyone you know and love have fought aliens in space and have the capability to take down a government. 

“I mean, there was that one time the Quinjet dropped you off at school” Sam chuckled

“That was one time! And that was because Tony hates traffic” You add, shaking your head at the embarrassment of disembarking from a 30 feet aircraft that works as a spaceship.

“But it must be hard, ya know? Having to share your dad with the rest of the world”.

“Hm? Sarah’s boys share you with them too”

“Yeah, but you know it's different. Parents are meant to be plain, they’re meant to live through us. Imprint all their expectations and dreams onto us”

“Well, maybe you should start seein’ things at what they ‘could’ be, instead of what they're meant to be. Sure, I don't have the kind of Dad that comes from the office at 5pm and has days off. But I get..this. You and Bucky, Sarah and a damn Asgardian King as my family. My Dad spent his whole life fighting, showed me what having immovable morals and good character makes of you. Wouldn’t trade it for the world, makes you feel a lot safer when there's an inbuilt super hero team on speed dial too”

“Damn you Rogers and your century wisdom. You spent a couple decades in the ice too?”

“Haha, don't group me with that icicle. 

Birds chirp and warm wind tussles the grass you lay on.

“Oh Louisiana"

“Nothing like it ey?”

“In the entire world. Get now why Steve never allowed me to stay longer than a week”

“Why’s that?” “Cause I'd never leave. I'd probably force him to retire and build a house with his bare hands across the road from you”.

Sam chuckles.

The sound of footsteps makes its way from the trail, and Bucky appears rounding the corner, his vibranium arm glinting in the sun.

“Do I hear the familiar crinkling of Guidry’s?” You shout out excitedly as Bucky raises the familiar peach coloured paper bag in the air

“Easy with the goods, Barnes” Sam calls out, before Bucky plops down next to you, ripping open the pastry bag to unveil the perfectly powdered beignets still warm.

“Told Elijah you had come down for a visit and he gave a little extra” Bucky says, before reaching for one of the pastries dusted in snow.

“Yeah…Steve was right” You reply, after groaning at the sweet and airy taste of the most perfect fluffy pastry you have ever tasted

“Bout what?” Sam and Bucky both say in unison mouths filled and faces covered in powdered sugar

“I’m never gonna leave” You giggle, wiping the sugar from your chin.

The sun makes its disembark down the coastline, as tunes of Etta Jones, Rockettes and Hozier murmur from Sam’s faded blue speaker. You fill your stomach on sugary beignets and sweet tea, leaving sticky fingerprints on card faces through hour long games of Euchre through the afternoon light.