#if you're wondering why ey can speak french: why not?

[writersdrug]

Heyyyyyy!!! So I’m absolutely freaking OBSESSED with your bartender AU… like I’m just eating up everything that’s coming out with itttttt!!! I love your writing so much and I’m honestly so hooked whenever I read your stuff!

I was wondering if I could request something with bartender Simon Riley and it’s where he finds reader crying in the backroom/pantry/stock area of the pub cause it’s been one of *THOSE* days. So he finds her there and sits with her and she just absolutely melts onto him and it’s all very sweet… sorry if this too much info for a request! Again, I absolutely love your work! 🤭🫶

Combining this with a few other asks about reader and Simon having a tender moment + reader having monetary issues

You're rather quiet today - you'd come in and spoken your hello's to everyone, then promptly got to work. Starting on rolling silverware in the far booth, then fifo-ing the pantry and fridge upstairs, then cleaning the bathrooms (you hated cleaning them, which is how Simon first figured out something was wrong). Didn't even reach for the French toast sticks Soap had put under the warmer for everyone. You have an expression plastered to your face as you work. Something between frustration and worry, and it has Price, Johnny, and Simon all on edge. Still, they let you be; it was well-known by now that personal space is sacred to them, and Simon trusts that you'll speak up if you need a shoulder.

Gaz couldn't stay to help drag the kegs upstairs today - something about the Brewmaster being on a trip to Austria, so he was left to watch the brewery. Simon doesn't mind that much. He can easily lift two kegs onto his shoulders and trudge them upstairs to the fridge. He grunts as he moves past the office, careful not to bang the kegs on any corners. Adjusting his grip, he pushes his way into the walk-in fridge-

He sees you, facing the boxes of fruits. "Oh- sorry, luv-" he sets the first keg down, then the second. "Y' need me to reach somethin'?"

You shake your head. Simon furrows his brow, noticing how tense your shoulders are. You're just... standing there. Not reaching for anything, not even looking at the shelves. Just staring at your feet.

You're crying.

All of his duties as a bartender fall to the side. He lets the door fall shut behind him. "Hey, hey... what's goin' on?" he places a hand on your upper back, rubbing his thumb back and forth as he waits for you to turn around. His mind is racing a million miles a minute, trying to imagine what could possibly have you this upset - and what he can do to fix it.

You shake your head, sniffling and trying to control your breaths. "It's nothing, I'm just - just a weird day, y'know? Not sure why I'm crying." You turn to look up at him and muster a smile, though your teary eyes say something else entirely.

He sighs. "C'mon, what's wrong?" He kneels down so that he's looking up at you - something his mom used to do when he felt too overwhelmed to tell her why he was crying. He can't explain it, but it made it easier to let go of whatever was troubling him.

Your lip wobbles, and you cave. Simon holds himself steady as you hug him, his burly arms wrapping around the small of your back. You sob, chest shaking with sharp inhales and sniffles, and Simon closes his eyes and sighs. This is what he wants: to be the lighthouse in your storm, to hold you steady while you began to slip. More than anything, though, he doesn't want you to cry.

He does what he remembers his mother doing. He gently shushes you, heart aching as you fist the back of his shirt and try to compose yourself. He uses one hand to drag an upturned crate behind you, slowly lowering you to sit down. The last thing he wants to do is let go of you, but he needs you to talk. He grabs a bucket and pulls it under him, planting himself in front of you and looking into your eyes.

"Talk to me. What's on your mind, hmm?"

You explain it all through sniffles and sobs: you're mom's recently called and said she wants to visit you. You're embarrassed with yourself, still living in that shitty apartment with your shitty roommate, a marketing degree hanging on your wall that you've never used (believe me, you've tried, but places really aren't hiring). Money isn't tight, but you're not saving - just making enough to exist and occasionally buy the name brand instead of the generic. One thing spirals into another, and you find yourself despairing about how you're never going to be anyone important, you're never going to make a difference - you're not even a cog in the machine. You're just the space between it.

God knows Simon's felt it, too.

"See?" you laugh at yourself, wiping a tear away with your fingers. "It's stupid. I do this every once in a while, right before my period."

Simon grunts. Good to know he can start buying chocolate and leaving it stuffed in the server cabinet. "It's not stupid, luv. You're worried - it's alright."

You cover your eyes, fighting the urge to start sobbing again. "I just... I feel like I'm not doing what I should be doing. I'm not getting anywhere. I thought I was going to be in a corporate office by now, living in a penthouse apartment and travelling wherever I want."

Simon scoffs. "Well, that's just unrealistic."

You huff. "I know. But that's success, isn't it?"

"Is that what you want?"

"Success? I mean... doesn't everyone?"

"Lemme put it this way." Simo leans his elbows on his knees, and you find yourself being drawn in to meet him, arms folded over your stomach.

"I assume you're happy 'ere." he says, looking you in the eyes. "What, with making your silly li'l drinks and swappin' all my shit for somethin' pink, 'n whatnot."

You giggle. "Yeah, I am..."

"Do you want to be happy?"

"I..." you pause. "Yeah, I do. Of course."

"Then aren't you already successful?" he asks. "You're not drownin' in bills - I hope you'd tell me if ya were - and you're happy. Is workin' a stupid corporate job n' livin' above the clouds gonna make it better?"

You looked at his hands, turning over the words in your head. It was stupid. It was the stupidest thing you've ever been worried about - he was completely right. You're happy here. You've never been happier - not in college, not at your data entry job, and definitely not in high school. You laugh, looking down at your own hands. "Yeah, you're... you're right. God, that was stupid-"

"Oi." he says sternly, slapping your knee - you froze, attention fully directed to him now.

"'S not stupid." he says, pointing a finger at you. "Just have to work through this sort of shit."

You watch as he stands and stretches his arms over his head, joints popping and cracking. "Should leave, 'fore we start heating up the fridge." he opens the door, and you quickly stand and follow him on the way out.

"What about the kegs?" you ask, following him down the stairs. "Do you need help bringing those up?"

"Give it time. Let it cool back down in there." He pauses at the bottom of the stairs, hand on the doorknob as he watches you quickly smear away the mascara under your eyes. "You eat anything today?"

You shake your head, fixing the knot on your server apron.

Simon forces his eyes away from your waist. "There's French Toast on the warmer - Soap made it for you. Go take a fifteen."

"But I haven't fini-"

"'M not askin'." he grunts out, pushing through the stairwell door and into the restaurant. He leaves you there to finish collecting yourself, staring after him with a small smile.

If this was you when you had first started working here, you would have thought he was frustrated with you for being so emotional. Now, that's just how you've come to know him. You quickly fix your hair and wipe your face once more, stepping out into the pub. The smell of cinnamon sugar wafts through the air as you make your way towards the kitchen, sparing one last sentimental glance to Simon as he begins setting up his bar.

[milkteabinniechan]

♡torturé pour l'éternité - Han Jisung

MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY MEMBERSHIP//M.LIST

pairing: author! Jisung x fem! reader

summary: you've been hired to clean for a tortured writer who never leaves his office. Angry and antisocial, can you find a way to soften his hardened heart?

warnings: alcohol mentions, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, emotional

a/n: I decided to go a different way with the arranged marriage trope and I hope you guys like it!

Somewhere deep in the French countryside lived a man. A mysterious, troubled and misunderstood man. He often felt overwhelmed by even the most basic human interaction. So overwhelmed in fact that he isolated himself away from the world. The world that never seemed to want him.

Through his pain, he wrote. He built worlds with just the flick of his pen. Han Jisung.

You were hired just a week ago by Jisung's publisher to clean his home so he could “focus solely on his next novel” as she do elegantly put it. When you first started cleaning, you noticed that the house was a mess, not just your typical bachelor pad mess, but a mess of someone who had given up on life. Dishes piled up in the sink, clothes were thrown all over the floor, and ashtrays were overflowing with cigarette butts. You would clean for a few hours and leave. Once a day, every day. But you had still never seen him, the illusive author.

One day after a few hours of cleaning, you finally finish and decide to take a break, sitting down at the kitchen table with a glass of water. That's when you hear the creaking of the stairs as Jisung descends, his footsteps slow and heavy. He appears in the doorway, looking tired and worn out. He rolls his eyes at the sight of you. "You're still here," Jisung mutters, his voice dripping with displeasure as he looks at you sitting at the kitchen table. He enters the kitchen, his presence filling the room with a palpable tension. "I thought maids were supposed to be invisible.”

Your eyes take in the sight of a someone that was more ghost than man now. He swirled a glass of whiskey in his hand as his eyes scanned you up and down. “I'm sorry Mr. Jisung,” you started, “I'm almost done here. Would you want me to make you something to eat?”

Jisung scoffs at your suggestion, his eyes narrowing. "You think I need you to take care of me?" He pulls out a chair and sits down heavily, his gaze never leaving yours. "I've been taking care of myself just fine without you." He pauses, his jaw clenched.

You stir at his sharp words but swallow hard as you stand and make your way to the sink to continue washing the dishes.

Jisung watches you with hooded eyes, studying your movements in the kitchen. Despite his initial hostility, he seems unable to completely ignore you. After a moment of internal struggle, he speaks, his voice slightly slurred, “who hired you anyway?”

“Your publisher. She wants you to focus on your writing. How is the novel coming?”

Jisung's expression darkens at your question, his fingers drumming impatiently on the table. "It's fine," he bites out, clearly annoyed at the intrusion into his writing routine. He glances at you disdainfully, his eyes lingering on your appearance before looking away. You continue to scrub away at plates and cups. You have a kettle on the stove for tea and you had opened the window to let some fresh air inside. His curiosity piques as he observes you diligently washing the dishes, ignoring his rude behavior. He finds himself wondering why you're so insistent on taking care of things that aren't your responsibility. He swigs his glass of whiskey, his mind racing with unanswered questions. As you finish up the last plate, you wipe your hands clean and turn back towards Jisung still seated at the table. “I'm finished for the day, sir.”

He looks up at you, his eyes slightly unfocused from the alcohol, but there's a hint of something else there - confusion, perhaps even a flicker of interest. "You're... finished," he repeats, as if testing the words. He hesitates, the whiskey making him second-guess his usual cold demeanor. He opens his mouth to dismiss you, but instead finds himself asking, "Have you eaten?” You smile softly at Jisung's hint of kindness and turn towards the fridge. “I haven't eaten yet, but I made this turkey sandwich for you. We could split it?” You set the plated sandwich down on the table. Jisung's eyes widen slightly in surprise as you place the sandwich in front of him. No one has shown him this kind of consideration in a long time. He stares at the sandwich, then back at you, his expression unreadable. “Why... would you do that?”

“Because, everyone deserves kindness.” You answer gently. His eyes betray a brief flash of something raw and vulnerable - something that quickly turns into irritation as he covers it up. "Don't act like you actually care about me. You're just here to clean my house," he snaps, though there's less bite to his words than before. “Yes, sir.” You giggle softly to yourself as you grab one half of the sandwich and sit down at the table with him.

He finds himself sitting across from you, sharing a sandwich like it's the most normal thing in the world. He can't remember the last time he shared a meal with someone, let alone sit in silence without feeling uncomfortable. He steals glances at you as you eat, his mind racing.

The next day when you return, you start your cleaning routine in the living room first. A location that has not seen light or laughter in quite a few years. You work on during first, clearing cobwebs in every corner you can reach. The sound of cleaning downstairs disrupts Jisung's writing once again. He grits his teeth, annoyed at the interruption. A part of him wants to yell at you to be quiet, but another part is almost curious. He stands abruptly, stalking to the balcony overlooking the living room. You pause your cleaning for a moment as if sensible Jisung's presence in the room. You turn and look up at his slender frame pressed leisurely against the balcony railing. His eyes narrow as they meet yours, trying to maintain his usual cold demeanor despite the warm flicker in his chest at the sight of you. "Keep it down, will you?" he shoots back, but his voice lacks its usual venom. "When will you learn to be quieter?” You hold back another giggle as you too try to keep your composure. “Yes, sir. I'll be quieter.”

Jisung watches you clean and move around his house. A warmth to you that he's never experienced before. As days turned into weeks, he found himself sitting in the living room while you cleaned. He would read a book out loud to you while you wiped windowpanes and dusted the fireplace mantle. You would ask him about himself, where he grew up and what his favorite season was. It was all so simple. The two of you together was like love but Jisung knew that “I love you” could not properly portray what you had done for him. He would spend years writing the exact words to express to you what love truly was to him now. You had found him and save him. And he could never thank you enough for that. But he would spend each day telling you that you were, without question, his long awaited love.

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[dragonnarrative-writes]

Transferrable Skills Part 1

Transferrable Skills Masterlist

Your therapist warned you about superstitious thinking. You've been working on it. In fact, you've been very good at catching it, challenging yourself to relax, and letting things go. Even before this big work trip, you consciously avoided the "unhelpful" rituals and reminded yourself that the little ones were just to make you feel secure, not to actually influence the future across an ocean.

"I'm very nervous," you had told Señor Snuggly two weeks ago. Your worn out stuffed lizard hadn't said anything back, of course. "That's normal, because it’s an international flight. So I'm going to give you a hug good-bye, and you're gonna stay here to watch the house. I know it's not going to change anything, but I'll feel better knowing you're here."

At the airport, you realized that you had forgotten your toothbrush. It had satisfied the part of your brain that was looking for one (1) thing to go wrong. Superstitious thinking, but the kind that helped you to relax and listen to music until you boarded.

Now, forced to sit on the floor, surrounded by shouting men with guns, your brain is stuck on your lopsided stuffed animal and blue toothbrush. Of all the things that could pop into your head, why those?

You almost let out a nervous giggle at the mental image of Señor Snuggly using your toothbrush as a shiv to save the day. And then the idea of what would happen if you started laughing right now almost startles you into another burst of giggles. You clap your hands over your mouth and curl into yourself a little bit more.

Next to you, your boss throws you a sympathetic look. "You okay?"

"No talking!" The nearest assailant yells in heavily accented English. You're pretty sure the attackers have been speaking Russian, but you could be mistaken. He brandishes his gun. "You want to die?"

"She needs to go to the restroom," your boss answers.

"No, I don't," you protest. You really, really do, and have for the last two hours. But being escorted out of the room alone seems like enough of a Bad Idea that your bladder can wait.

"No, she does not," the man confirms. "Shut up. Do not talk."

You meet your boss's eyes and try to silently convey, Why are you trying to get me killed?

His doughy face says back, I am a white man who goes to the gym once a week, and I really like the John Wick movies. I have delusions of being a hero. If one man takes you to the bathroom I have the mistaken belief that I can overpower two men with guns to save everyone. Also you're a black woman, so don't you have super powers? I believe in you, queen.

You may be projecting.

Ten minutes later, just as you're wondering if you should suggest a group field trip down the hall to the bathrooms, a series of gunshots rings through the building. The energy in the room goes from nervous to frantic in an instant. Your bladder shuts up. The Russian men start shouting and waving their guns, apparently too agitated to speak English. Two hostages start crying because no one else speaks Russian, just English, French and your half-forgotten, informal, Mexican Spanish.

Another three Russians come bursting in the room, snarling something you can’t understand. They grab at a couple of people, force them to stand at gunpoint and gesture to the rest of you. And then everyone is up and kind of moving in the direction of the door. But you can’t get out of the door because they’re blocking it, but they’re really agitated that the room is still full of hostages. And then some people are being pushed back down to the floor. Your boss ends up sitting back down again. A hard hand closes on your arm before you can get down, and you and four others are dragged out.

The leader says, “You all are dignitaries, yes? Your embassies will send money or they will watch you die.”

This is, potentially, the worst possible scenario. None of the five of you are even remotely important, let alone dignitaries. You’re not 100% sure about most of the others, but you’re an aid. An aid to an aid, really. The blonde woman with the remarkably sharp bob is a personal assistant. Today’s conference was about health data management, of all things.

You decide you’re not going to die with a full bladder. You look to the man holding your arm in an iron grip and point to the upcoming door on the right. “Can I please go to the restroom? I’ll be quick.”

He asks the leader something in Russian, and then you’re being shoved through the bathroom door. He doesn’t follow you into the stall, but it’s still so awkward to pee knowing that there’s a man with a gun waiting for you. You’re so glad you aren’t on your period - opening the wrapper on anything right now would feel louder than it has since middle school.

The door to the restroom opens just as the toilet finishes flushing. You hear a scuffle, an aborted shout, and then something heavy hits the floor. You freeze, heart racing. But then there’s no more sound.

You wait for what feels like an hour but must only be a minute before calling, “H-hello?”

You don’t get an answer. Unlocking the door and easing it open, you peek out and stifle a gasp. The man who had escorted you is on the ground, a pool of blood growing around him. His gun is gone.

You’re halfway through washing your hands before you realize you’re on autopilot.

It takes everything in you to fight down the urge to freeze in place and make yourself inch around the body to the door. When you poke your head out, the hall looks so normal that it makes you dizzy for a second. You try to decide what to do through the anxiety fog. You can’t hide in the bathroom with a dead body, and you probably can’t go back to the big room with everyone without getting shot. You have no idea where the other faux-dignitaries were taken. Apparently, there’s at least one person going around killing people in bathrooms.

You try to think of what your therapist would say in this situation. All of the options feel bad, she would say. So you can’t not do anything because it feels bad. Thank the anxiety for trying to keep you safe, then try to pick the least awful course of action.

“Fight, flight, freeze, fawn,” you whisper to yourself. Fighting is right out. “Flight, freeze, fawn.” There’s a body pouring blood right behind you. “Flight, fawn.” No one is around to appease. “Flight.”

Another gunshot and shouting. It sounds like it’s coming from the left, so you head right.

You shuck off your sensible kitten heels and fervently wish your otherwise sensible pantsuit wasn’t pastel purple in this very beige hallway. Not that a thicker-than-European-average black woman mincing around in a Swiss hotel and conference center would be inconspicuous in a black suit, your mind counters itself. You try to force your brain to shut up, with mixed success.

You wander a good five minutes, reminding yourself not to panic at every locked door you try. The halls are so quiet that you half convince yourself that you’ve gotten out of immediate danger. So of course, right as you’re about the round the next corner, one of the Russians appears, reeling backwards. And then he collapses, a knife sticking out of his neck.

You can’t really worry about that, though, because right after him comes one of the largest men you’ve ever seen. He must catch sight of you out of the corner of his eye, because his head snaps to look at you. You barely register the assault rifle in his hands because his eyes bore into you through the top half of a human skull.

Oh, I’m glad I already peed, you think, staring into the eyes of Death.

“Fuckin’ ‘ell,” the man says, growls really. “What are you doing here?”

“I… bathroom? Please don’t kill me. I’ll cooperate.” you squeak out. Oh, fawning! Cool.

“Price, I’ve got one of the hostages,” he says, nonsensically. “I’ve cleared the east wing.”

You jump when his walkie-talkie - of course it’s a walkie-talkie - squawks back an “Affirmative. Status?”

“She’s up and walking,” the man says, not taking his eyes from yours. “Seems uninjured.”

“Stow her somewhere safe.”

“Negative,” Death says. Before you can panic because what the fuck does that mean? he says, “Bringing her back with me.”

“Copy.”

When he takes a step toward you, you stop breathing. Everything in you is screaming RUN and DON’T MOVE at the same time. His second step in your direction results in a full body twitch. You get the impression that the gun is pointed at the ground, but the only thing you can really see is bone white over a black mask and what might be really pretty brown eyes, but the shadow from the overhead light really makes it hard to tell and your vision is going a bit darkaroundtheedgesandohI’mstillnotbreathingthat’snotgreat.

You’re shocked into gasping when a gloved palm touches the side of your face. The rough material helps you settle into your body, just in time to start hyperventilating.

And that’s when things get weird, because Death says, “Easy, lovie. Settle, f’ me, yeah? Deep breaths, like we’ve practiced.”

Your brain latches on to the familiar command to settle before you can even question why it’s familiar. The way the man makes a long, low shushing noise makes you so suddenly weak in the knees that you stagger where you stand.

And then it clicks. Holy shit. You know this voice. You know these commands. You’ve been listening to and learning them at least once a week for the last six months. He doesn’t even sound that different from over the phone or on a video call.

“There you go, that’s good,” Simon, the dominant you’ve been seeing online, tells you through his skull mask. “Keep breathin’. In through the nose, out through the mouth.”

It’s the second time in your life you’ve been surprised out of a panic attack. “W-what the fuck? Si?” you gasp. “What are you doing here? Did you kill that guy?”

“Questions are gonna have to wait,” he says. “Keep breathing. In for four, hold for two. In for two, out for eight. Can you do that?”

“Why are you in Switzerland?”

“Breathe,” he rumbles. “Settle.”

“No,” you hiss, even as your shoulders relax another fraction. The corners of your eyes start prickling with tears.

“This is a double red light situation,” Si says, staring into your eyes. “I know you’re scared, but I’m going to get you out of here. You trust me?”

“You are wearing a skull on your face.”

“And you’re wearing a purple suit,” he answers. “There are people who want to shoot both of us. You get one more outburst, then you’re breathing and following me. Acknowledge.”

What the fuck? “This isn’t a scene!”

His eyes bore into yours. “Might surprise you, but I’m aware. Acknowledge.”

A distant shout makes you flinch. You relent. “Acknowledged. Four in, hold two, two in, out eight. Follow.”

“Good girl,” he says, patting your cheek once. “Stay behind me.”

[anna-hawk]

Pardon my French

Michael “Mikey” Berzatto x Reader

Summary: You should never assume that the person you're talking about in another language doesn't happen to speak that same language.

Rating: T | WC: 5.8k

CW: none except my sense of humor, French-speaking reader, French, crack, fluff, meet-cute

Read it on AO3

The happiest of birthdays to my favorite person on here, @darlingshane. Amaya, I don't even know what I could say that I haven't already said 100 times. All I will say is that I love you from the bottom of my heart and that having you as a close friend has been a wonderful experience these past 4 years 🧡🧡🧡

This time, as a gift, I decided to go for Mikey, considering how much you've grown to love him. Your fics for him are some of your best, with “Salt of the Earth”, so I thought I could do a little homage. I was reading through a list of prompts for meet-cutes last month and this really spoke to me. Your Spanish reader fics were extremely fun, which was what inspired me and made me decide to make this into your gift. While I obviously can't write a Spanish reader, I thought you would enjoy something with a French reader instead.

✨Have fun and again, happy birthday!✨

Taking a left at the next street corner, you quickly hurried across the road when you saw the green traffic light for pedestrians. 

“You really suck, Caroline,” you grumbled into your phone, as the chill of November blasted a cold gust of wind into your face. 

Your cousin laughed before sighing deeply. “I know… Trust me, this was not what I had in mind for today either.” 

You sighed in turn as you glanced around for a place to head inside and warm up a bit. “How’s the fever?”

“It’s a bit lower. She’s sleeping for now.” 

“Good,” you smiled at the relief in your cousin’s voice. 

You had intended to spend the day together, but her daughter had come down with a nasty cold that had held both parents up for most of the night. 

“What’s the plan now?” Caroline asked right as you entered the nearest shop to get out of the cold wind. 

As soon as you were inside, you were met with the sound of shouting from the register as someone called out orders, while the delicious smell of homemade food hit your nose. 

“Getting something to eat,” you replied distractedly while taking in your surroundings. 

You hadn’t noticed what kind of establishment you’d entered, but since you hadn’t had breakfast that morning, and with the scents all around you, you figured that you could grab a bite. 

“Oh, where?”

“Dunno.” You looked around until you saw a white sign with green lettering. “The Beef… some small place selling Italian beef, apparently… Smells really good,” you added, as you walked up towards the small line at the register. 

“Yo, cuz, what’cha doin’ back there?” the man at the register bellowed to the back of the shop. “People fuckin’ waitin’ here. Get a fuckin’ move on.”

“Fuck you, Richie. You come back here if-”

“Hey, hey, hey. Will you calm the fuck down, yeah?” said another man, who was straightening from where he’d been looking for something under the counter next to the shouting one. 

Your eyes instantly slid to that man, taking note of the thick, dark hair on top of his head, the sharp jaw and the broad shoulders stretching out the shirt. 

“Ah, ben maintenant je sais pourquoi ça s’appelle The Beef, (Well, now I know why it's called The Beef),” you uttered into the phone, automatically switching to French to talk to your cousin, while giving the man a slow once over as you reached the front of the line. 

She laughed heartily and made a curious sound. “Pourquoi? (Why?)” 

“Hey, what can I get for you today, sweetheart?” asked the guy called Richie as he shot you a smile. 

You unfortunately had to look away from the other man and smiled as you looked at the sandwich list. 

“Hold on a sec,” you addressed Caroline. “Hey, hi… um… an Original would be good, thanks… and a soda, please.”

“Sure thing… want it to go or you stayin’?” 

“Not going back into that wind for a while if possible,” you stated fervently, which had Richie chuckling, while the dark-haired man snorted and nodded his head as he finished another order. 

“Right, that’ll be $8.50… Go have a seat. We’ll send someone out in a sec.” 

Nodding and quickly paying while Richie bellowed your order towards the back, you made your way to the two-person table that had the best vantage point on the register. 

“We’ll definitely have to come back here,” you stated to your cousin, as you sat down and removed your coat while you watched the dark-haired man smiling or shouting his way through the orders. 

“I think I’ve actually heard of the place. The name sounds familiar anyway. Family run business, I think.”

“Sure looks like it. From the way they keep freaking yelling at each other, it probably is.” 

“So… tell me more about this Mr. Beef,” she snickered. 

Switching over to your earphones to make eating easier while talking to Caroline, you made a more detailed description of the man’s features. 

A few minutes later, you sat up straight when you noticed him coming into your direction with your order. “He’s coming over, hold on.”

“Here you go, sweetheart,” he smiled, placing the sandwich and soda in front of you. 

“Thank you,” you grinned, hearing him calling you sweetheart having a wholly different effect on you than when Richie had said it. 

“Lemme know if you need anything else,” he requested, while pulling a rag out of his apron and walking backwards to the table next to yours. 

“Thanks. I’m good for now.” 

He nodded and turned around, which revealed his denim clad backside to you.

“Tu sais quoi? Je ne t’en veux même plus de ne pas être venue, (You know what? I'm not even mad you couldn't come anymore.),” you told your cousin, as your eyes fixed on the moving ass before you while the man cleaned the table-top.  

She snorted at your tone. “Et qu’est-ce qui te fait dire ça? (And what’s making you say this?)”

“Et bien… Il est en train de nettoyer la table juste à côté de la mienne… Et je peux te dire qu’il a une belle paire de miches**. C’est sur elles que j’aimerais manger cet Italian beef. (Well… He's cleaning the table right next to mine… And let me tell you that he has a gorgeous ass. I'd rather eat that Italian beef on that.)”

She burst out laughing this time. “T’es pas possible. (You're the worst.) ” 

You grinned at her laughter, while continuing to watch the man, who'd stopped for a second before resuming cleaning the table.

“Je les pétrirais volontiers celles-là. (I'd love to knead that.)” 

“Toi et tes blagues de bouffe. (You and your food jokes),” she wheezed, and you could easily imagine her shaking her head. 

You chuckled lightly and bit into your sandwich, which turned out to be delicious. You moaned your appreciation. 

“We're so coming back here,” you said with enthusiasm and took another bite. 

The man turned around and shot you an amused smirk, before walking up to your table and leaning slightly into your space.

“Et comme mes miches, tout est fait maison ici. (And like my ass, everything here's homemade.)”

Your mouth fell open and only reflexes kept the sandwich from slipping through your fingers as you stared at him in utter shock. He winked at you and began walking to the next room where other tables stood. 

“Oublie ce que je viens de dire… Je dois quitter la ville, (Forget what I said… I need to leave town.),” you said feebly, while staring after him and hearing him laughing at your words. 

“Hein? Pourquoi? Qu'est-ce qui s'est passé? (Huh? Why? What happened?)”

“Caro…” you whispered, still in shock. “Il parle français. (Caro… He speaks French.)” 

There was a second of silence, soon followed by your cousin's loud, screaming laughter coming through the earphones. 

“Qu'est-ce qu'il a dit? (What did he say?)” she gasped out in between peels of laughter. 

“Que, comme ses miches, tout est fait maison ici. (That, like his ass, everything here's homemade.),” you mumbled, while putting the sandwich down and hiding your face in your hands. 

She laughed even more, cackling through wheezing breaths. 

“I can't show my face here anymore,” you groaned, looking forlornly at your sandwich. 

“Was he angry? From what he told you, he didn't seem to be.”

“No… he looked amused. But that's not the point… I talked about kneading that man's ass right in front of him,” you moaned and shook your head. 

Caroline chuckled lightly. “At least you weren't badmouthing him.” 

You only hummed and folded up the sandwich. There was no way that you could eat this now. About to bemoan going back into the wind to escape your embarrassment, you heard your niece’s tiny voice calling for her mother. 

“Sorry, gotta go,” Caroline said hurriedly before speaking softly to her daughter. 

“No problem. Give her a big hug from me.”

“Will do… Keep me posted on the hot stranger situation.”

You snorted. “There's no situation at all. I'm gonna slink out of here and never come back.”

Caroline laughed softly. “Whatever… talk later.”

“Yeah, later.” 

You removed the earphones and placed them back into their case before checking your surroundings. How could you have been so stupid and run your mouth like that? Caroline was right, he didn’t look angry at all, but you’d rarely felt this embarrassed in your life. You quickly put everything into your bag and left a large tip on the table before getting up. As you put on your coat, you noticed the man standing in front of a wall as he checked the light fixture. Glad that he couldn’t see you, you were about to run out when something held you back. You bit over your bottom lip as you contemplated him and sighed deeply. 

“Can I talk to you for a sec?” you asked tentatively as you reached him. 

His head turned to you in surprise, before a large smirk appeared on his handsome face as he moved his whole body toward you. Damn, he really did look incredibly good. 

“What can I do for you?”

“Uh… well, I just wanted to apologize for earlier. I hope I didn’t offend you or anything. I’m always the first one to tell people to be careful with speaking another language in front of others and not assume they don’t understand you, but here I was doing it anyway,” you said in a rush, glancing at him in between words while mostly avoiding direct eye contact. 

“Eh, don't worry, it's not like you were talking shit about me so…” he trailed off with a light shrug, while his grin never left his face. 

“Maybe, but still… I'm sorry.”

“Don't be…” He leaned in closer as he lowered his voice. “Ça ne me gêne pas. Surtout quand ça vient d'une aussi belle bouche que la tienne. (I don't mind. Especially when it comes from a pretty mouth like yours.)” 

Your eyes widened, while you felt your whole face warming again when his gaze dropped to your parted lips. That’s not what you had expected him to say. 

“Well,” you breathed, your eyes locking with his as he looked up again. “Good to know.”

You stood there, watching each other for a few seconds, before Richie’s voice boomed through the snack. 

“Hey, Cuz, Fak’s on the line ‘bout the fridge.” 

The man in front of you didn’t react except to briefly lift his eyes toward where the voice was coming from before looking at you again. 

“Mikey!” 

“For fuck’s sake. I heard you. Tell him I’ll call him back in a sec,” he called out irritably. 

You laughed to yourself at his annoyance at being interrupted, which had his attention returning to you. Shaking his head with a small grin and a sigh, he put his hands in the pockets of the blue apron.

“You leaving already?” he asked after a beat, as he noticed that you had your coat on and your table was cleaned off. 

You grinned inwardly at the word already, as if he was regretting seeing you leave sooner than he had expected. 

“Yeah… think I’ll just head home for the day. No weather for nice walks outside.”

Mikey only hummed in agreement and looked down with a small crease between his brows. 

“But I’ll be back,” you blurted out, which had him staring back at you with raised eyebrows. 

“Yeah?”

“Mhm… best Italian sandwich I’ve had… Need to have another taste and all.” 

“Glad to hear it,” he smiled, inclining his head to one side as he stared at you intently. 

You suddenly didn’t feel like leaving at all anymore, but sitting back down would seem weird now, right? He was obviously flirting with you, much to your surprised delight, yet you didn’t feel like coming across as too eager either. 

“‘Kay, then… I — uh — I’ll see you next time, I guess.” 

“Sure thing, sweetheart,” he smiled softly, while his gaze remained focused on you. 

“Right… bye, Mikey,” you babbled, finally taking a step back just when you saw him grinning at you using his name. 

“A la prochaine. (Until next time),” he replied, following you towards the front of the shop. 

Your name came through your lips like a reflex, and you would have felt embarrassed about that too had Mikey not smiled at learning it. When he repeated the goodbyes with your name this time, you left with a wide smile and barely felt the wind across your skin as you headed home. 

**The word ‘ miche’ stands for a loaf of bread, but it’s often used to refer to someone’s butt because, as you can guess, of its rounded form. Reader wants to "knead that dough". 

After that day, you had returned as promised. 

On the first time, they’d had a busy day, with the line far longer than the last time you’d been there. Mikey hadn’t been at the register, which had disappointed you, but you’d still ordered the same thing as last time. You hadn’t lied when you’d said that it was the best Italian beef you’d had. As you’d been about to walk to a free table, Mikey had come out of the kitchen with a large tray filled with orders. He’d stopped in his tracks as he noticed you and smiled brightly in recognition. Unfortunately, this had been the only interaction that day, since he’d had to return to the kitchen immediately. 

On your third visit, Caroline insisted on coming along. She told you that she wanted to taste the infamous Italian beef that people raved about at her job, but you knew that it also was to get a look at Mikey. However, like last time, he wasn’t at the register. She looked at Richie and then back at you with a raised eyebrow, but you only rolled your eyes at her. 

“Il a les yeux bleus, celui-là (This one has blue eyes.).”

“De très beaux yeux bleus (Very pretty blue eyes.),” she commented with a smile directed at Richie, as he asked for your order.

Caroline ordered a few different things to bring home a little later, while you went with the original as both other times. Richie yelled the order to the back as always, while he invited you to take a seat. 

“Maybe he isn’t in,” Caroline said as she looked around herself. 

You shrugged as you took a napkin and folded it in half. “Maybe.” 

You wanted to sound nonchalant, but you seriously hoped that he’d be around. 

A little while later, the kitchen door opened, with Mikey stepping through it while talking to the person behind him. With your direct view of the register, you noticed him immediately. At your sudden silence, Caroline turned to look as well, which had you hissing at her to not be so obvious. 

“What? I’m just checking where my order is,” she waved her hand around at you, and you huffed. 

Mikey was still talking while he lifted his eyes to stare around the shop distractedly, only to notice you and smile as he spoke. Your face heated, and you bit your bottom lip at the way he smiled at you. You saw him say something to Richie, who looked towards your table before pointing at an order. 

“So?” You heard Caroline ask, but you were too busy watching as Mikey picked up the order and walked towards you.

“Hey,” he said with a grin. “So, these two for now” — he placed a sandwich in front of each of you along with your drinks. — “and this to-go, right?” He put a packed order in the center of the table. 

“Yes, thank you,” you smiled. 

“Alors c’est lui, pas vrai? (So, that’s him, right?)” Caroline asked while staring at him, which had you making wide eyes at her and groaning softly. 

“Caro…”

Mikey looked at her with a lifted eyebrow, before glancing at you with a smirk. 

“Oui, c’est moi (Yes, it’s me.),” he replied easily. 

Caroline grinned and nodded her head. “Alors, tout est fait maison ici, c’est bien ça? (So, everything’s homemade here, correct?)”

“Oh my God,” you whispered, and kicked your cousin under the table. 

Mikey laughed heartily and nodded. “Oui, absolument tout. (Yes, absolutely everything.)”

“Great. Good to know,” Caroline shrugged and sat back casually, like she was just a satisfied customer. 

Mikey chuckled and looked back at you with a sly smile. 

“Anything else I can get you guys?” 

“Nope, we’re good, thank you,” you quickly replied before Caroline could jump in and embarrass you more. 

Mikey nodded with another small laugh and walked off with a “Bon appétit. (Enjoy.)” 

“I fucking hate you,” you hissed at your cousin, who had the gall to snort and roll her eyes. 

“I had to see if the man can take a joke, and he does.” She took a bite from her sandwich and groaned in satisfaction as she chewed. “Besides, the man already knows you find him hot… Which, you were right about, he’s a good-looking dude… But, I’ll take the yelling, blue-eyed one,” she added matter-of-factly after taking another bite. 

You snorted at her words. Caroline was married to one of the chillest men on this planet, and she loved the hell out of him. But she’d always had a thing for the loud ones. Except that it never worked out with them because of her fiery personality. She and her husband balanced each other out perfectly, though. 

“Still, you didn’t have to remind him of what I said,” you grumbled, biting into your own sandwich. “I was more hoping he’d forget about it.” 

Caroline snorted softly. “That first impression is gonna be unforgettable. But I really don’t think he minds that at all… The opposite, really.”

“Right…” You rolled your eyes and sipped from your drink this time. “He might have flirted with me last time, but it doesn’t mean anything. He was just being nice.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” she said, while swallowing another bite and glancing at you with a smirk. “The attraction clearly does go both ways with how he can’t stop looking at you.” 

“What?” you asked in surprise and sat up straight in your chair. 

“He’s talking to customers a few tables over, and he’s looked at you at least ten times already.” 

You blinked at her at the revelation and ducked your head with a shrug. 

“Maybe he’s just looking at our table in general.”

“Yeah, right. I could be dancing around naked that he wouldn’t even notice it.”

This had you uttering a loud laugh of amusement, which turned into a small, pleased smile as you took in her words. 

“He’s coming back,” she whispered suddenly, having you jerking in your seat. 

“Ça vous plait? (Do you like it?)” he asked Caroline, although he glanced at you. 

“Aussi bon qu’on me l’avait dit. (As good as I was told.)” She nodded with a hum of approval. 

“Content de l’entendre… Et toi? (Glad to hear it… What about you?)” he glanced your way with a lifted eyebrow. 

“Délicieux (Delicious.),” you smiled, feeling your face warming as you saw your cousin watching the two of you with a smirk. 

Mikey nodded with a pleased smile and was about to say something when Richie called for him. He sighed. 

“Enjoy the rest of your meal,” he said and shot you a smile that was obviously only for you before he headed back. 

You followed him with your eyes until he vanished in the kitchen, which had you noticing Caroline’s lifted eyebrow that clearly said ‘told you so’.

“Could be dancing naked,” she repeated meaningfully with a smirk. 

Shaking your head at her with a small laugh, you went on eating the sandwich. 

An hour later, you left The Beef, but Mikey never came back from the kitchen. 

In the following weeks, The Beef became one of your regular places. It had everything to do with Mikey, obviously, however, as the weeks went on, you got into talking to the other people working there. The place was chaotic, with everyone running around and shouting obscenities at each other, but you quickly realized how deeply everyone cared about each other. Caroline, and even her husband, came along a couple more times. However, you mostly went by yourself. For the simple reason that Mikey would often come to your table and strike up a conversation whenever you went alone. 

You seriously enjoyed talking to him. He could be as loud and all over the place as the rest of the Beef’s staff, and flirt with you in a very obvious way, while he could also give off this more introverted and thoughtful persona. It was during the later moments that you talked the most, with Mikey sometimes sitting down at your table and talking about the most mundane stuff. You shared stories about your jobs and families, which told you that he also had a younger brother along with the younger sister you’d seen a couple of times. Watching her interact with the loud men in the restaurant, looking so sweet and calm, only to see her biting back if needed, had been an incredibly funny moment. 

Caroline was getting more and more frustrated with the two of you for not moving things along, though. However, you really didn’t care. Did you want there to be more? Yes, but you also genuinely enjoyed spending the time with Mikey the way that you currently were, despite how much you wanted to kiss him when he stared at you from under his eyebrows like he often did. Only time would tell, and you weren’t in any particular hurry. 

“Hey, Basic Beef. How’s it goin’ today?” Richie hollered as soon as he saw you. 

You chuckled at the nickname and walked up to him. Richie had taken to calling you that a few visits back after you’d been talking about your choice of order. He’d teased you about always taking the same thing and not being adventurous enough. To which you’d laughed and shrugged, telling him that you were okay with being a basic bitch. Richie had almost keeled over with laughter at your words, wheezing out the word Basic Beef. To no one’s surprise, Caroline had almost lost it after you’d told her the following day. These two got along far too well.

“Hey, Ducon. (Hey, Asshole),” you snorted and leaned against the counter. 

He grinned and turned towards the list of sandwiches with a hum of faked curiosity. 

“What will it be today?” he singsonged. 

“You’re such a dick,” you laughed. 

“Hey, Mikey,” Richie smirked, as he shouted to the back while maintaining eye contact with you. “Your girlfriend’s here.”

You groaned and shook your head, while you heard Mikey’s voice from the kitchen. 

“Hope you ain’t being a dick about her order again.”

Richie grinned at you, which had you fighting down the warmth rushing into your face at the fact that Mikey knew exactly who Richie was talking about. 

“Yes, he is,” you called out with a laugh to hide your embarrassment, knowing that the other customers could hear everything too. 

“She insulted me in French,” Richie threw back with mock outrage. 

“Serves you right,” Mikey said, stepping out of the kitchen with a wide grin directed at you. “Hey, Sweetheart.” 

“Hey,” you smiled. 

You saw Richie sighing and rolling his eyes at the two of you before moving towards the kitchen. “Guess I’ll be making that sandwich myself.” 

“God, you’re such a fucking drama queen,” Mikey snorted, while you laughed at Richie’s theatrics. “Can’t I just say hi?”

“That’s not sayin’ hi, cuz, that’s undressin’ her with your eyes.”

You almost choked on your spit, while Mikey closed his eyes as if praying for patience and sighed. “Why do I even let you work here?”

“Cause this place would come crashin’ down without me, asshole.” 

Mikey shoved him hard with a huff of a laugh and took a step back before looking at you and then back at Richie. 

“I’ll have that order out in two,” he finally said after looking at you again. 

“Uh, thanks,” you nodded, while Richie watched him with a raised eyebrow as Mikey made his way back to the kitchen.

Richie sighed again while you took out your wallet, and nodded at the customer who had just entered the place and was waiting behind you. Handing over the cash, your money was met by Richie waving it away. 

“Go have a seat, Love. It’s on the house tonight,” he said with a much softer tone. 

“Oh… Um, okay, thanks, Richie.”

“No problem,” he winked with a genuine smile. A smile that you returned easily. 

One thing had to be said about Richie; he might be loud and obnoxious most of the time, he was also a nice guy who you actually really liked. Putting everything back into your bag, you made your way to your usual table. 

As promised, Mikey was out with your order barely two minutes later. 

“There you go.” He placed everything neatly in front of you. 

“Thanks,” you smiled brightly, looking into his face. 

Mikey nodded and looked back towards the register and the kitchen with a tiny frown. 

“I — uh — I’m kinda stuck back there with preparing stuff for the weekend and-”

“Oh, uh, that’s okay. I know you can’t chat every time,” you cut in, nodding your head in understanding. You didn’t want him to feel bad about not coming out to talk if he was busy. 

“Yeah, no, I know, but I was kinda thinking…” he trailed off and looked down for a beat, sucking on his bottom lip. “Will you stay after we close?” he finally asked, looking at you from under his lashes. 

You blinked a couple of times at the unexpected question. “Oh… um, yeah, sure. Of course.”

“Yeah?” he smiled softly. “It’s gonna be” — he looked around the place — “another hour at least, though.”

“That’s okay. I don’t mind waiting. I can go pester Richie if I get too bored.”

Mikey barked out a laugh at that and nodded his head a few times. 

“‘Kay… See you later.”

You smiled in acknowledgment and watched him walk back, stopping next to Richie, whose eyes shot to you after a moment, but you quickly averted your gaze. Picking up your sandwich, you took a bite to stop yourself from looking up again. Your face felt warm as you thought about Mikey’s request to stay. That had never happened, and you couldn’t stop yourself from wondering what was going to happen. In any case, you could only imagine Richie grinning like a lunatic at Mikey informing him that you’d be staying. To distract yourself, you pulled out your phone and went through your various social media platforms while you ate and then sat out to wait. 

A little while later, you were reading through an article about a show you were looking forward to when Richie appeared at your side. 

“You can already go through to the back. Everyone’s left there, and I’m gonna finish with the couple customers left and close the front.”

“Oh, okay.” You got up and looked towards the kitchen. 

“Okay, listen,” Richie started, looking suddenly serious. “I know I’ve been givin’ you shit and all that about him, but truth is, Mikey’s been… kinda all over the place lately. But since you showed up, speaking French and all that… I’ve seen more glimpses of my best friend than I have in a while.”

You stared at him in surprise. That’s not what you had expected to hear. 

“Shit… I don’t wanna scare you off or anything. But… shit… Mikey, when he falls, he falls hard, yeah? And I can tell that you’re not some bitch out to hurt him or nothin’.”

You chuckled at his agitation. 

“Nah… I’m just some Basic Beef, remember?” you said softly. 

Richie snorted and nodded his head. 

“But seriously, thank you, Richie. I’m glad that he has someone looking out for him… But yeah…” You looked towards the door leading to the kitchen. “Mikey, he… I just really, really like him”, you stated with a smile that you knew revealed how smitten you were by the man. 

Richie nodded again with a small smile.

“Yeah…” He finally cleared his throat and waved towards the kitchen. “Right… Go ahead… And please, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, yeah? Remember, kitchen, sanitary measures.” 

You groaned and shoved at his arm. Now, that was what you had expected. “Don’t be gross, Jerimovich.” 

You heard him laughing as you walked towards the kitchen. 

Stepping through the door, you looked around at the rows of appliances, pots, and pans, while you hung your coat and bag on a hook near the staff door. As you moved to the deepest part, you found Mikey in front of the stove, with three large pots bubbling away on it. 

“Hey,” you said softly, coming to stand next to him with your hip against the counter as you faced his profile. 

Mikey lifted his head from one of the pots he’d been leaning over and stirring, his hair curling at the top from the steam. He beamed as he saw you. 

“Hey. Richie gone yet?”

“No, not yet. There was still a table left. He said he’d close the front and leave from there.”

Mikey looked towards where the front of the shop was, as if he could see Richie, and smiled.  

“Smells delicious in here,” you said after a second, staring at the insides of the pots. 

Mikey grinned. “Making the last batch of pulled pork and beef.” 

You made a long hum of appreciation at that, which had Mikey uttering a pleased chuckle. 

“Can I help you with anything?” you wondered, looking around yourself.

“Nah, I’m good. There ain’t much left to do except wait a bit, but…” he trailed off like earlier. 

You tilted your head in question. He was being incredibly tentative tonight, which was kind of cute. “But?” 

Mikey shot you a small glance and cleared his throat. 

“Just wanted to see you for a bit longer.” 

You ducked your head and smiled. While Mikey had flirted with you intensely over the last weeks, it had all been done in a lighthearted fashion. The interest had been genuine, but it had never been this open. This confession was raw and hit you straight in the heart. 

“Yeah? Well… While I love the food you guys make here, you know that’s not really what has me coming back every time.”

Mikey smiled warmly, before he smirked. “C’est mon cul, pas vrai? (It’s my ass, right?)”

“Ah non mais t’es pas possible, arrête. (Oh come on, you’re the worst, stop it),” you half groaned, half laughed while pushing at his shoulder. 

Mikey laughed heartily and caught your hand as he turned to face you fully. You looked into his eyes, filled with mirth, but also something so tender that it took your breath away. 

“Wanna know something embarrassing about me?” he asked in a soft tone. 

You nodded lightly, your heart in your throat and unable to speak with the way he was looking at you.

“J’avais déjà envie de t’embrasser le jour où on s’est rencontré. (I already wanted to kiss you on the day we met.)”

Your heart missed a beat before it started to beat faster. 

“Alors pourquoi tu ne l’as pas encore fait? (Then why haven’t you done it yet?)” you breathed. 

Mikey smiled and cupped one side of your face with a large and warm palm. “Bonne question. (Good question.),” he whispered, before slowly leaning in. 

Your eyes automatically fell shut when his lips met yours. It was a soft kiss, just his lips pressing onto yours, as if testing the waters. You lifted your hands to his waist, your fingers gripping at his t-shirt as you slanted your head in request for more. Mikey huffed out a small breath against your lips, and moved in closer, giving you what you wanted. His hand went to the back of your head, with the fingers sliding into your hair as he parted your lips with his. You moaned at the first, soft stroke of his tongue against your bottom lip, just grazing the skin teasingly before he delved in further. Your fingers tightened in his shirt as the kiss turned into something more. More intense. Hungrier. Leaning against the stove, Mikey’s other hand went to the middle of your back, pulling you as close together as possible. In turn, you wrapped your arms around his chest and clung to his shirt like it was the only thing keeping you upright. You suddenly felt ridiculous about ever thinking that you didn’t have any issues with just seeing where this thing with Mikey was going, since you had clearly underestimated how much you actually wanted this. Wanted him. And from how he was kissing you, holding you so tightly against him, the feeling was unmistakably mutual. 

You couldn’t say how long you stood there, locked together, with no signs of letting up, but you were pulled out of the moment by the pots suddenly bubbling wildly. Mikey cursed while you gasped, the two of you springing apart to see the contents of the pots sputtering around and almost starting to overflow. Jumping into action instantly, Mikey turned the heat down and stirred the pots while muttering under his breath. 

Once everything was under control again, Mikey held himself up with his hands on the counter and exhaled deeply as he turned his head towards you. 

“I think my ass is responsible for this too… I turned the heat back on high when I leaned against the stove,” he explained sheepishly. 

You stared at him for a second, before you burst into laughter, while he watched you with an amused smile. 

“You know,” you said lightly and stepped into his space again, wrapping your arms around his neck while he circled your waist with his. “I think I need to take some responsibility for this too.”

“Hm… you did distract me,” Mikey agreed with a chuckle, and leaned in to kiss you.

You grinned against his mouth, the kiss about to continue like you’d never been interrupted, when Mikey forcefully leaned his head away with a grunt and kissed your forehead instead. 

“Okay… let’s just…”

“Am I distracting you again,” you laughed softly, looking into his warm, brown eyes. 

“You have no idea,” he confessed, pulling you into a hug this time. 

You smiled into the embrace and took in a deep breath, staying in this position for a few long minutes.

“Rentre avec moi? (Come home with me?)” you finally asked, although you kept your face against his shoulder. 

Mikey cupped your face and tilted your head until he could look into your eyes, revealing his warm gaze. 

“Avec plaisir. (It would be my pleasure.)”

[kolyubov]

Say your French goodbye

✧ pairing. pm!dazai x gn!reader

✧ word count. 1k

✧ contents. angst? petnames (sweets, darling), ooc pm!dazai.

✧ author's note. hai :3 this may be written kinda weird because i'm experimenting with my writing !! hopefully it's still enjoyable <3

Dazai wishes to enjoy this moment; you lying on top of him with his arms wrapped around your form, breathing slowly against his chest, your eyelashes resting against your soft cheeks, your lips parted just slightly— he's holding back from just grabbing your face and pampering you with kisses, aching to feel that softness against his lips.

But he can't. He can't even let himself enjoy your presence, trying to warm his whole being; his soul.

It's wrong.

He knows he shouldn't be this attached to someone.

When he lets his guard down, allowing himself to enjoy the company of another human, life takes them away from his path one way or another.

It's always been like that.

—

Your couch feels much more comfortable than his bed, naturally, and your apartment seems too colorful for his eyes in comparison to the cold steel walls of the container where he “lives”.

He wonders what you'll think if you ever find out about his questionable lifestyle.

“Osamu…”

Dazai's attention is almost immediately back to you, watching as you snuggle and rub your cheek against his chest with your eyes still closed. The way his name sounds coming from your lips has his heart skipping a beat… He’s ashamed you’ll feel how pathetically it beats for the sound of your voice alone.

“Something's wrong?” He whispered, not wanting to break the small moment of peace for you. His fingers slowly ran through your hair, twirling it a little at the ends. “Ready to go to bed, darl’?”

His uncovered eye was hard on you, carefully analyzing your body language for any indication that you felt uncomfortable.

“You're pretty silent… Is something wrong?” You ask, and Dazai doesn't answer your question, only letting his head fall back against one of your couch's pillows; his lips part for a moment, and just as he is about to speak, he closes them again.

All of this is wrong…

He knows someday you'll be ripped off his life, he can't avoid that fate that awaits him, but Dazai is more afraid of you ending up hurt because of his fault. Considering his position as an executive of the Port Mafia, many could use you in order to threaten him.

For your own good, he should let you live a quiet life.

Dazai places his hands on your waist, firmly pushing you off him to lie on his side instead, “Sweets, it's kinda late. Why don't you go to sleep, yeah?”

When he briefly glanced at your expression, you were facing him with a pout on those lips that he couldn't take his eyes away from.

“Why don't you stay? You can sleep here, on the couch, or if you're comfortable enough, maybe in my bed!” There was no hidden meaning behind those words, you really wished for him to take a rest for once, “We can even have a slumber party!”

“Ehhh… I don't have any pajamas and sleeping in a suit is…” He trails off as your hand reaches out for his arm, but he’s already pulling away and sitting on the edge of the couch, not facing you.

“I'll lend you my clothes! I have some oversized pieces that could fit you.”

Dazai rolled his eyes, amused by your attempts to make him stay. He didn’t want to keep inventing more excuses in order to avoid staying, but knowing how stubborn you were, being honest won't work either— If anything, it'll be much harder for him to leave that way.

When he was just about to get up, ready to leave and maybe disappear forever before fucking up your life, your arms wrapped around his waist from behind, trapping him with you.

“Please, stay…” You murmur against his back. The softness of your plea has him biting his lower lip anxiously as a storm builds up inside his head. He is a heartless mafia executive, so why's it so easy for you to grip his frozen heart and melt his resistance away?

Dazai's hands rest above yours, kindly trying to push them away, but your grip was strong— He wouldn't want to use too much force accidentally. The last thing he wishes to do is hurt you.

“Darling, I'm busy. You know how the mafia works. Can you take those cute hands away and let me go?” Seeing no answer from you, he gave your hands a few pats, “C'mon, or do you want Chuuya to punch my face for being late again?”

With that, he felt your grip soften, leaving him the opportunity to stand up from your couch. When he turns around to face you, a small chuckle escapes him at the sight of your defeated pout.

“Will you come tomorrow too…?”

Dazai purses his lips and looks away. Conflicted.

Both his mind and heart were arguing whether to stay and appreciate these moments with you before everything comes to an end or be selfish, spend more time with you, and put your life in danger for being in a relationship with a mafioso.

His presence is nothing but an inconvenience.

Maybe he wasn't meant to love, maybe he was never meant to care for another human being, at least in the way you cared so sweetly for him. He doesn't get along with most people after all.

“…Sure.” He replies, his voice soft as a hand reaches for your cheek, his thumb caressing your skin for a few seconds, enjoying the lasting moments.

Before he could leave, you pull him for a hug that leaves him stunned. Everything stops; his breathing, his heart, his mind— All because of your sudden display of affection. A hug was something he wasn't used to. It took him a while until his arms wrapped around your body, letting you melt against him.

No words were coming from any of you, just calm breathing and small caresses over each other's back in your dimly lit living room. The embrace lasted for a few minutes until you pulled away. Your eyes meet his, trying to see through him, wishing you could just tell him everything your heart yearns for.

“Take care, Osamu…”

Dazai gave you one last small smile, squeezing your hand in his hand before walking away, opening the door of your apartment, not glancing back, as he disappeared in the dark.

Maybe, one day, he'll figure out how to make his life less miserable; someday, he could let himself enjoy your presence without fearing the consequences of his existence.

Maybe one day he'll change.

© 2024 kolyubov — Do not copy, repost, or recommend my works on other platforms. reblogs are welcomed and appreciated!

[upon-a-starry-night]

Love Favors The Misfortunate

Natasha Romanoff x Gender-Neutral Reader

Natasha Masterlist Main Masterlist

Word count: 3.2k

Warnings: Minor Violence

Summary: Misfortune always seems to follow you no matter what you do. But where there’s trouble, Nat often follows, maybe love was on your side after all?

Disclaimer: This was part of a writing exercise I did so it’s kind of silly and unedited but enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~

Somehow you always managed to wind up in the worst situations that Earth could possibly experience. You wondered if you were just cursed or something considering last week you were present for not one but two bank robberies. 

Maybe that was just the life of a delivery driver?

You hoped the lady behind the bank counters Caesar salad tasted better after death threats and salty tears of desperation.

This time, however, in the middle of checking the GPS during a stoplight, the sound of screams alerts you to the number of people ditching their cars and running past your motorcycle in fear.

Looking up you see the giant rip in Earth's atmosphere, monster-looking creatures spilling out of the hole. 

Oh, Good.

You immediately kick your motorcycle into gear, walking the bike through the crowds of people until you can manage to make a U-turn and speed off, weaving your way through the panic.

You spare a few glances into your mirrors as more flying monsters spill out of the sky and it's during one of these glances that you fail to notice the giant alien who has just landed in the street a few feet ahead of you. By the time you notice him you only have enough time to attempt a full stop which results in your bike sliding from under you and skidding across the pavement. Ouch.

Much to your luck, however, the bike collides directly with the monster and sends it straight into its own spear. A weird purple liquid oozing slowly from underneath the unconscious body. 

You frown, it was going to cost a pretty penny to get your bike fixed if it was even salvageable and now you definitely weren’t getting paid for the hamburger and fries that were probably still warm in your delivery bag.

Maybe you could see if french fries taste better after near-death and motorcycle debt.

Wincing, you feel your arms already bruising and your jeans have ripped through to your thigh, you're not bleeding as much as you probably should be from that slide but it still hurts like hell. Thank god you were wearing all your safety equipment.

A hand is extended out to you and you graciously take it, looking up to meet eyes with the prettiest redhead you’ve ever seen. She’s giving you an impressed smile and you feel like you could melt right then and there. Although that might also be from the burning pain in your leg. 

You probably need to find a hospital. Or maybe you were dead and this was an angel.

You always figured they’d look like the horrendous abomination of eyes and wings that they were described as, not as pretty redheads with striking green eyes but you weren’t complaining.

“That was a good move” There are still people running past you screaming but it feels like time stops when she speaks to you. 

“Yep. that was definitely something I did on purpose” Drumming your fingers on your thighs you watch her chuckle and give you a look that tells you she knows you did not, in fact, do that on purpose.

You glance between your bike and the woman in front of you, screaming civilians making the moment almost comical. You felt like you were in some kind of rom-com apocalypse.

Despite it being the last thing you should probably do, you extend your hand out to her and tell her your name. She gives you a very amused look and you shrug your shoulders as if to say ‘Why not? We’re here aren’t we?’ 

She chuckles again as she takes your hand, introducing herself.

Natasha. Derived from the Russian name Anastasia, which means resurrection. Maybe she was an angel. Damn.

Natasha nods her head in the direction of the crowd and smirks “Shouldn’t you be joining them?” You shrug. “Unless you know more moves like that?” She gestures toward your beat-up bike and you shake your head

“No. Unfortunately, I haven't mastered the art of more than one motorcycle trick yet” Not that you could get that thing to start back up again after that anyway.

She shakes her head with a laugh, glancing over her shoulder at the mess the city is becoming before turning back to you. “ Well I guess until you learn you should probably get running”

You nod, a little dejected, your calmness in relativity to the situation was likely the result of a concussion but you weren’t worried. Unless Nat was not real, in that case, you should be worried. Very Worried.

“Will we meet again?” it’s cliche and you immediately feel like a protagonist in a Disney movie but it’s a genuine question.

She smirks and looks around at the city again, gesturing to the absolute clusterfuck that New York had become “For your sake, I hope we don't” 

You know she doesn’t mean anything bad by it and it’s your turn to smirk when you say “Knowing my luck, we will” You hope she finds herself near a few banks in the upcoming months…

She smiles at you and nods her head in the direction of the crowd and you understand what she’s trying to tell you. With one final wave and a small “good luck” you run in the direction of your fellow New Yorkers, occasionally glancing back to see her running in the direction of the main battle.

You didn't know who she was but Damn did you want to. 

~~~

The next time you find yourself in a particularly unfavorable situation is not for months later. Minus that one time you witnessed two old ladies get mugged and that time you almost got hit by an ice-cream truck. But you got free ice cream from the second one so you weren't counting it.

You’d taken up a job in a small pizza place to pay for your bike repairs. It didn’t pay much but you didn’t have that many options after New York got attacked by aliens and half the businesses were destroyed or temporarily shut down. This is one of the few places still open which means on Friday nights you were busy as hell.

It was not a Friday night. It was a Tuesday afternoon and your coworker who was supposed to be on shift with you called out sick which meant you were manning the shop by yourself. Your stupid coworker was probably just off cheating on his girlfriend again but you didn’t care because the shop was empty which meant you could play games on your phone without his judgmental stare.

You’re struggling through level 5 of Candy Crush when the sound of breaking glass comes from the front of the shop and you sigh. You would be surprised but it was New York, more specifically it was your life in New York.

What you are surprised by, however, is the sight of familiar red hair covered in glass in the entryway, and you really want to rub your eyes with the squeaking sound effect like in the cartoons but the amount of microfibers that just got released into the air would suggest not doing that.

“Well well well” You realize you sound more like a supervillain than you intended and you freeze when she stands and sharply turns in your direction, gun pointed directly at you. You throw your hands up in surrender immediately. Goddamn supervillain catchphrases always making pretty girls turn their guns on you.

When she seems to recognize you she relaxes only for a man to jump through the already broken glass window and tackle her to the ground again. You want to help but considering you still haven't learned any more motorcycle tricks(or any tricks in general) you figure you would probably be useless.

You watch helplessly as she disarms and renders the guy unconscious in a matter of seconds and then stands and dusts herself off. The guy on the ground looks like some old-timey variation of Hitler and you're pretty glad she knocked him unconscious before he could even notice you. 

You focus back on Nat who's looking at you like a wounded animal that could run away at any moment and It’s then that you realize that most people are not quite used to these kinds of situations. Clearly, you weren’t like most people. You point to the body in a trenchcoat on the ground as you crinkle your nose

“Are you taking that guy with you when you leave?” She huffs out a laugh and you feel yourself smile at successfully getting her to laugh again.

You, one.

Hitlerman, zero.

At least you were winning one game. Stupid Candy Crush.

She looks around the shabby pizza place and then zones in on your nametag, only them seeming to realize you worked there. She tilts her head, nodding to your flimsy little name pinned to your T-shirt. 

“Why are you working here? Where’s the bike?” You sigh, you knew the question was coming but it’s still a sore subject for you. You internally punch a wall but on the outside, you frown just a little. It’s the saddest expression Nat’s seen on your face so far.

“She’s in the shop. Repairs are taking longer than I thought and now I’m forced to conform to my least favorite type of work just to get her back” Nat gives an understanding nod and then cringes a little, walking towards you until she’s right in front of you. She places a hand on your head and you inhale sharply.

A small frown forms on Nat’s face “You’re bleeding” 

The feeling of her hand on your face confirms that she’s not an angel or a figment of your imagination and you don’t realize you’ve voiced that thought out loud until you hear Nat barking out a laugh.

“I’m flattered but, well-” She glances up, then behind her, then back towards you “I wouldn’t be so sure just yet” She smirks and removes her hand just as a ceiling panel falls from the roof. Dust flies into the air and you cover your face to avoid getting more shit in your eyes.

When the room finally settles Natasha is nowhere in sight but there’s a Captain America band-aid on the serving counter and you feel a small smile across your face. What a dramatic exit. Now who was the supervillain?

You take great notice of the fact that Hitlerman is also gone and you wonder how the fuck she managed to do that. But more importantly, you hoped this wasn’t coming out of your paycheck.

~~~

You can’t emphasize enough to most people how much you’re not even trying to be in the situations you get caught in. In fact, the one time you stayed home for a week you ended up catching the Flu. How the hell do you catch the flu from staying home? After that, you just accepted that you were a magnet for misfortune and there was nothing you could do about it.

Although, after meeting Nat you found yourself a little excited anytime something misfortunate happened and that was probably psychotic and you should definitely check yourself into a psych ward but you’d probably end up choking on a crayon and getting deemed a risk to those around you so what was the use?

Still, of all the robberies you’d been a witness to you’d never been a part of a hostage situation. Until now. Stupid Banks! 

Usually, you’d assume that the police would handle a situation like this and you’d be stuck in this bank for hours until someone grew a dick and negotiated something but this time circumstances were a little different. To start, the guy who was currently robbing the bank was holding some type of gun that was the equivalent of real-life freeze tag. 

Anyone who got zapped by the oddly blue glowing gun was frozen in place, which led you to problem number two. 

The police had shown up nearly half an hour ago and someone must not have briefed them on this wacko holding you hostage because the second one of them snuck in the back door with a gun he was frozen in place looking like the idiot that he probably was. 

You would attempt to grab his gun but you didn’t feel like doing that shit. Who were you to risk your life and try to be a hero for some money that this poor fellow probably needed considering New York's rent cost.

Maybe if the stupid fucker hadn’t frozen the one lady who knew the code to the very comically large bank safe he wouldn’t be stuck making stupid negotiations and holding people hostage.

Instead, you settled against a wall near a bunch of crying civilians and attempted once again to beat level 10 of Candy Crush. You give up after ten minutes and delete the app. Really you were just trying to kill the time until you-know-who showed up.

She and her band of merry men had grown a reputation for taking care of situations that the regular authorities couldn’t and that’s why you weren’t the least bit surprised when the room began to fill with a cloudy white smoke.

Others began panicking, fearing that it was some sort of poisonous gas and you rolled your eyes. This was not poisonous gas, you’d seen poisonous gas and this was not it. 

This was a very dramatic entrance formulated by your absolute favorite redhead. God, you felt like you were in a spy movie. Any second now you’d see a faint figure slowly descending from the ceiling in all black with a gas mask on and spy music would start playing.

Any second now.

Aaaaaany second now- 

A scream from beside you makes you jolt and you find the sobbing woman next to you with a hand over her mouth. A gruff-looking man is telling her to keep quiet and your eyes widen for a second as you think ‘Oh shit. Double robbery.’ But from behind the gruff-looking man walks a familiar figure and she pats him on the shoulder as she passes him. 

You squint your eyes, what an oddly metal-looking shoulder. Perhaps you were hallucinating. Stress and all that.

By this point, enough white smoke has filled the room that the bank robber is wildly swinging around in fear as he squints to see. He’s probably more on edge after that woman's scream as well. Yeeeeah more of a horror movie than a spy movie now. 

The reason you can see everyone so well is due to your superior eyesight and definitely not the science lab goggles that you had in your bag for no suspicious reasons. Hey, you had to be prepared for literally anything considering your luck.

Nat’s wearing some kind of night vision-looking goggles and a mask and when she passes you you poke her leg. She jumps a little, glaring at you until she seems to recognize you despite your flawless Lab Scientist disguise and her eyes widen. Her eyes seem to scream ‘What are you doing here’ but you feel it’s too obvious of a question to bother answering. 

Instead, you give her the biggest smile you can muster and a friendly wave, mouthing “Hiiii Nat!” 

She rolls her eyes but you can see the smile she’s hiding under her mask and you mentally fist pump. Three for three.

You point to the man wielding the gun and mouth to her “Go! Team go!” 

She shakes her head, exasperated by your lack of fear and self-preservation but holds her finger up to her mouth telling you to be silent as she turns to sneak up on the man. 

Your body does so love disobeying orders though, so it chooses that moment to sneeze, which has the man pointing the gun in your direction (not that he can see as his eyes are practically watering now) and Nat turns to you with a glare.

You raise your hands up in surrender and in an attempt to help, you throw the nearest object on the floor across the room. Oh, that was your phone- well, okay. Either way, it helps, the man swings back in that direction, blasting his gun in the air and Nat takes the moment to attack him from behind. 

She disarms him easily, taking him to the ground and placing him in handcuffs. She inspects the device carefully, flipping a switch and aiming it at the closest frozen person. With a bolt of light, they unfreeze and gasp for breath. Good, at least the idiot had created some sort of Ctrl-Shift Undo button.

You're part of the first few escorted out of the building considering you weren’t frozen or in hysterics and the paramedics look at you a little funny but wrap a shock blanket around your shoulders.

Yes, shock. That's what you were experiencing. Normal people things. You twist back and forth and watch the shock blanket sway as you wait for Nat to be done with her serious business. God, serious business was boring and took forever.

When she finally emerges from the building she ignores the press and police that come up to talk to her and heads straight for you. Ha! Eat shit losers.

She doesn’t bother with formalities, why would she? It's you. Instead, she hands you a small black box as she takes in the shock blanket you’ve tied around your neck to look like a cape.

“Here’s your phone” You take the object from her hands and inspect it.

Oh wow, No cracks, that's great. Wait- “This is not my phone” You turn it over and inspect the Stark logo on the back of it. Yeeeeah definitely not yours.

“No, it’s not” She doesn't bother lying to you at least, and you hum in acknowledgment. Well, you weren’t one to pass up a free upgrade. You pocket the phone and stick your hands in your front pockets, flashing her a smile

“So… you come around here often?” She rolls her eyes at your stupid attempt at a joke. Or flirting. Either one works.

“How do you keep ending up in these situations?”

It’s your turn to smirk “Maybe it’s just an excuse to see you?” 

She gives you a look that says ‘It better not be’ and you just shrug, your shock blanket falling to the ground. Fucker. Making you look uncool. You refuse to bend down and pick it up. Recovery blankets were for losers anyway.

Still, she smiles at you anyway and crosses her arms “I’m beginning to think the only way to keep you safe is to keep you with me”

Your heart leaps but you pretend to be nonchalant. You're only blushing because of shock or whatever. Play it cool “That doesn’t sound like a bad idea” A stupid smile forces its way onto your face despite your best attempts to repress it and Nat laughs at your stubbornness.

“But first I think we’ve got to teach you some self-defense” She nods her head indicating for you to follow her and you both begin walking in step to an unmarked black car. 

Kidnapper car.

Cameras are flashing around you and you think about how cool you’ll look with Lab goggles atop your head and white smoke in your hair on the news tomorrow morning. The media was going to love you.

Turning to Nat on your way to the car, you have a question that’s been itching at you that you feel the need to ask 

“Do you think your sugar daddy can help me fix my bike?”

She punches you in the arm.

A/n: This was initially a writing exercise to write the silliest short story I could think of, but I thought it was cute so I decided to post it~ Starry

[crowleys-hips]

Good Omens Themed Asks🐍 🍎

so last night i was trying to distract myself from The Horrors, so i thought about ducks and started wondering if they like strawberries and if so, can they eat chocolate covered strawberries? (looked it up. no they can't) and i thought how sad, but can they see the stars? (they CAN. they've got great eye sight. i went into a rabbit hole about it) so one thing led to another and i ended up making a Good Omens themed ask game 🦆 go nuts

bookshop - what's your happy/safe place? (physical or intangible)

hot chocolate - what's your comfort drink/food?

rain - have you ever been in love?

Queen - top 5 favorite bands/artists

record - a song that's very significant to you? what does it mean to you?

the Ritz - describe your ideal date

ducks - are you good with animals? could you lead a revolution with them?

sushi - have you ever eaten something illegal? by accident or otherwise

apple - what's your guilty pleasure?

Talisker - what do you do when you're sad?

ox rib - if you were some type of food, what kind of food would you be?

Châteauneuf-du-Pape - tell us about a funny/goofy time with someone

Bentley - what's your most prized possession?

french - do you and your loved ones ever get lost in translation?

plants - how do you deal with your frustrations?

laudanum - what's the craziest thing you've ever done?

prophecy - do you believe in fate?

holy water - have you ever had to do something extreme to protect yourself?

magic - what's something you suck at but absolutely love doing?

nebula - something you've done that you're really proud of?

polaroid - what's a bittersweet memory?

zombies - what are you most afraid of?

hell - what are some of your inner demons?

heaven - what has been the greatest loss of your life?

goats - if goats could speak, do you think they should be able to vote? why or why not? explain.

pot - a favorite childhood memory?

angel cake - are you a sweet tooth?

bathtub - if you could get away with murder only once, would you use that chance to take out someone? who?

falafel - what's a thought you can't ever seem to outrun

whales - what do you consider is your greatest accomplishment so far?

Jane Austen - what's your favorite book you've read recently?

fly - tell us a secret. shh it's okay we won't tell anyone (except all of tumblr)

vavoom - have you ever clicked with someone immediately? or are you more of a slow burn type? (platonic or romantic or anything)

turtleneck - show us (or draw) your hottest outfit

Alpha Centauri - where do you run off to when it feels like the end of the world?

South Downs Cottage - what is your ideal happy ending?

ball - what's something that's great in fantasy but disappointing in reality?

coffee - describe what you would do if you were in a coffee shop au with your crush and there was an apocalypse out there and all you had to defend yourself is whatever is at hand in the coffee shop (mugs, coffee machine, plates, cash register, desserts, chairs, tables, napkins, etc). the enemies are floating heads who want to kidnap your crush. go

Final Fifteen - greatest heartbreak of your life?

nightingales - what makes it all worth it for you?

tartan socks - hot or not?

[touyas-multi-purpose-saline]

DAY XXV. — POWER IMBALANCE

cw: Power Imbalance, Implied Forced Relationship, Rape / Non-Con Elements, Dubious Consent, Forced Pregnancy / Implications of Forced Pregnancy, Manipulation, Delusional Behavior / Thoughts, Unhealthy Relationships, Yandere Undertones, Uncomfortable Scenarios, General Dark Content Not Suitable for Immature Audiences, Fem! Reader. Reader discretion is advised. 18+ Only!

author's note: What a drastic shift from yesterday. The Duality of Overhaul, or whatever you want to call it. I genuinely love applying him to different scenarios because he's a freak (said with an accentuated French accent). Hope you enjoy! I do not condone unhealthy behavior in any sense! This is strictly fiction! Do not force yourself to read if you're uncomfortable.

word count: Approximately 1.6k words.

His cock hurts. 

You gasp again, but it doesn’t do anything. Kai’s body is heavy and strong, and you can’t do anything but lay beneath him, pliable, willing. You’re never supposed to try to run away—always under him, always listening to him. Those rules are unspoken, but the way the smiles of his nails scrape into the bedsheets says it all. You have never tried to run away—wouldn’t work, anyway. There’s always some guard or whatever placed outside of the door to your bedroom. You can’t see their faces, just these terrifying plague masks that seem to elongate, become swords, become ways to cut you open until you’re a bleeding mess before their feet. It’s scary to look at the masked men for too long, they’re nothing but drones, robots, they’re replaceable. They’re just wraiths in the night that place a key into the lock of your door and twist. 

But sometimes you start to feel like them, too. You don’t know if you could beg them, don’t know if it would even work. They’re all so loyal to Kai; and if they’re not, then they fear him enough to do whatever he demands. You understand that feeling all too well. He’s delusional, always has been since you met him. Did you ever truly meet him? Were you a hostage or were you a doll? Had he been shopping for you on purpose? His cock punches against the arch beneath your womb, so ready, always willing to adjust for him. Another gasp, Kai groans. His muscles flex, these tendons and cords that seem to be tugged and strung along, pulleys and levers that you can’t help but stare at. He thrusts, rough, but slow enough that you’re able to catch your breath between each one. Sometimes he seems hesitant whenever he does this. 

You wonder why he even wants to have sex in the first place. 

Kai’s whispering nonsense that doesn’t mean a thing to you. Both of your eyes are lazy whenever you glance over his shoulder at the white walls. So bland, not a single hint of clutter. This is your room. Why can’t you decorate your own room? He says he loves you. He really does love you. Each thrust blends together now, a fruit smoothie iced and sweating, a sweet flavor that sours and molds. It’s driving you crazy. One of Kai’s hands starts to trail down the bed, hissing against the sheets, linen maybe, and you can’t help but inhale sharply whenever he wiggles the appendage between your bodies. Ah, okay. You see what he’s doing. 

“Your body always responds to me so well. It’s almost unbelievable to think about.” 

Fingertips locate your swollen clit, throbbing, dry, and he awkwardly begins to jerk it up and down to the rhythm of his thrusts. It’s instantly a brain killer, and everything starts to reel whenever he hits too fast, too hard, and it thunders against the bone. You can hear the sound in your head, a dull thwack of a taut rubber band, each flick. Kai’s scent fills your mind whenever you start gasping and wincing, something eucalyptus, something seasalt, acetaminophen. It’s so strong that you feel a pulse warble between your temples. You wish Kai wouldn’t speak to you whenever he lays into you. It’s uncomfortable. You just like to zone out, go into your own little world, think about this just being a late night masturbation session. He’s working your clit so well, you feel like you’re starting to get dizzy. A twilight carnival ride that the carnie refuses to stop, that just watches you go by round after round until there’s nothing but bile in the back of your throat and a blue sky that watches overhead. Kai speeds up. 

“You’re perfect for me, angel. No one would know how to love you properly. I can’t imagine someone else having you like this.” 

You’re not a virgin. You weren’t before you met him. You let him think whatever he wants. 

“I’ve been thinking about our future together recently. I’ve got a plan for us.” 

Horrifying, but Kai’s bringing you closer and closer to a release, so you attempt to ignore his words. But they fester. And they start to crawl into your ears like little maggots, like a soggy pumpkin dying in the winter, something after autumn, something that doesn’t feel quite right. 

“Each morning you take those medicines. I took one away recently. I’m sure you noticed that.” 

Yeah, you did. Typically he says those medicines are specific vitamins that you need to maintain your health because of the diet and lifestyle regimen he’s placed you on. He also sometimes gives you pain relief medicine if it was a particularly strenuous day. But the ones that are constant have dropped a brother recently. Yeah, you noticed. 

“Do you want to know what I took away?” 

Kai’s getting faster, each thrust is bouncing your body. You’re so buoyant, so up there in the world, the stratosphere, an orbital that won’t ever land. You’re biting your lip, feeling yourself being sawed into, split open, and Kai’s fingers are doing more than just jerking you up and down now. Left and right, quick circles, fast massages that have no genuine direction. They’re all the perfect motions, he’s hitting every little square inch that you need. Kai buries his head in the crook of your neck. You don’t answer him, but he takes your silence as an affirmative anyway. 

“Birth control.” 

Two words, but the ominous unsaid ones hover in their air over your bodies, monsters and nightmares that haunt your visions. Both of your eyes widen, reality starts to set in, you start to realize what you’re doing. You’re having sex with Kai. You’re having sex, and you haven’t cared, haven’t thought about it, you just forget where you are, leave until you cum, he cums, and then you forget about it once your eyes close and you enter a slumber that doesn’t rest you. It never occurred to you, never mattered, you never considered it—and now Kai’s brought a whole new factor into the equation of your conjoined bodies that has you panicking and gasping. Both hands start flinging around Kai. Slapping his back, arms, you’re lacing your fingers through his hair and tugging, you’re kicking your legs in a way that tries to squeeze his cock out, both of your knees slice out and away from his waist so that the soles of your feet can start to swipe out at his hips. 

“N-No. K-Kai, I don’t want to get pregnant. I don’t want—Kai, don’t—” 

Kai doesn’t slow down. 

“Shh. Just relax, angel. It’ll be great once I’m done.” 

It’s like you can never fight back. His hands remind you, the disconnected bones in your little toe remind you, vestigial, the sensation of his cock grinding and rolling inside of you reminds you. He always wins, but you can’t handle it. You don’t want this, genuine mortification is seeping into your bones, you’re losing it, you feel sick, the stratosphere is becoming hotter and you’re starting to gain your gravity back. You don’t stop trying to get him away from you. Kai growls, but it’s not enough of a warning to stop the primal neurosis in your mind, the antipathy. You don’t want children—especially not with Kai. You can’t—

“Don’t c-cum in me, Kai. Don’t finish in me, please, please, I beg of you, don’t, it’s not—” 

He’s not slowing, foot on the pedal and he’s gone, and the way he’s jerking you off isn’t stopping either. You’re close, he’s close, neither of you are going to last much longer, and Kai starts to groan until it turns into a wolfish growl. He snarls, and then his free hand snaps up. 

“Angel. Don’t say things like that.” 

The hand draws near, but you shake your head, gasping and crying out in distress, 

“Kai, don’t cum, pull out, please, pull out, no, no nooo, no, Kai, don’t, Kai, pull out, K-aaaai-auh—” 

Kai’s hand slaps onto your face, palm over mouth, and he pinches your nostrils shut. Your eyes blow out, and you’re struggling. There’s no breath in your lungs, oxygen melting into difluoride, and it burns, burns. And you can’t help it, but you keep worming your limbs, doing anything in your ability, but you're weak and the longer you extend your energy the worse it gets. Everything is starting to fade, a strange numbing that tingles and tickles, a weird humming noise playing in your eardrums. Black dots aren’t black dots, just little fleas that want to make you itch, want to feast on your blood, they’re not there. Kai’s outline blurs, becomes massive, and your body is twitching and jerking, you think, but there’s something coiling inside of you and it doesn’t last long. 

“I said don’t say things like that. It’ll be fine. You’re worrying too much. It’s like you don’t trust me. You don’t trust me, do you? This will help you start to trust me. Stop fighting me, angel.” 

What’s he saying? You don’t know. The words all turn into a soup that warms your heart, that keeps the cells in your body boiling, but you’re starting to get tense, there isn’t any temperature anymore, and you can feel yourself disappearing. The coiling turns, a snake in the ferns, and it strikes—you want to gasp, moan, but the world is spinning in gallops, footsteps into the forest. An explosion happens in you, but you’re too busy spasming. A quarter past midnight. 

“A-Angel, yes, like that. You want it too. Can’t you f-feel, ahhh, hhha, it? You’re, we’re, ahhh—” 

Kai stops, you can’t breathe. And it feels like a strange palpitating inside of your body. Together. 

“H-Ha haaa, yes, yyyesss, angel. Perfect. This’ll be perfect. You’ll see.” 

But your eyes are already closed. 

[heartfullofleeches]

Fast food reader having a yandere manager/boss??

What type of shenanigans do they get to and why do I picture the yan manager calling in the reader to their office and when the reader comes in the manager is laying on their desk in a certain "draw me like one of your french girls" pose with a rose in their mouth??

Oh God. Please not today. Standing stationary at your post, you dread the upcoming encounter with the customers next in line. The duo whisper loudly to each other, one nudging the other as they glance over in your direction. You pick up some words of encouragement over the conversation you're currently involved in and are fairly certain the piece of paper in their hand is signed with a heart. Why do so many people think this is a good idea? You hand the customer their change and ponder whether it's too late to switch to retail as the next guests approach. The one holding the note goes first. They slide it across the counter.

"Hey, uh, I've seen you in here during my lunch breaks and was wondering if yo-"

"I'm gonna stop you right there. You're not even the fifth person who's given me their number this week. I'm not sure if you're one of the normal one or the kind who tries to stuff me in their car after I get off, but either way you should probably leave before my boss comes."

The customer looks dejected, but their friend steps in. "You didn't have to be such an ass about it."

"I'm only trying to warn you, and save myself the headache. They polish a hunting rifle in their office with the door wide open and I'm about sixty percent sure majority of the people on the missing persons board are the ones from this exact scenario. I'd ask if you want to order anything, but you should probably just leave. They're always watching the cameras."

"Gooood afternoon."

Well- You'll be able to sleep tonight knowing you did your best.

"I was just checking in on things, and happened to notice the line forming behind the two wastes of space who decided to harrass my favorite employee."

One of customers opens their mouth to speak, but your boss quickly shuts them down."

"Mmm, yeah, sorry- I hear you, but to be honest I don't really care. Here at this establishment, we always strive for customer satisfaction, but employee safety is the most important thing and to bother our most valued member means I don't have to abide by any rules. Moral or otherwise. Kindly get the fuck out of my store before I make you crawl out."

"I'll take this." Your Boss picks up the slip of paper and gives them their best customer service smile. "Have a nice day!"

That smile becomes just a tad genuine as the customers bolt for the door. Your boss turns to you, pulling you from your focus on the cash register as they check you for any damages. Besides the beginning of bags under your eyes, you're relatively okay. Their shoulders finally relax seeing you unharmed."

"Good. In perfect condition like always." They gently pat your cheek. "My office. Ten minutes. Don't worry about the ones you can get to."

Stocking shelves can't be much worse than this, right?

The ten minutes go by in what feels like ten seconds. The door is wide open when you arrive. Your boss has already added the note to their collection in a jar on their desk, a red line through the pages you could see. Your picture hangs on the wall in multiple frames marking you as employee of the month for years with no competition. According to coworkers, that award didn't even exist before you were hired.

You knock on the door frame. Your boss lifts their feet off the desk and shoves them underneath it along with their aforementioned weapon. They sweep the surface clean with the same rag they used to clean it as you approach and politely folds their hands as you take your seat.

"Y/n, what a pleasant surprise! What brings you to my cozy neck of the woods?"

"You called me here."

"Well - yes, but I like to think we're closer than that. Like family. Heads of the household if you will. I understand most of your time here has been manning the register, but with all this attention you've been getting I think we should move you somewhere else. I'm not jealous or anything..."

They crack a guilty smile." Well, maybe a smidge, but this is mostly for your own good. Something like keeping eye on the stock or working the fryers... Maybe even something as simple as, oh I don't know- coming home with me and letting me take care of your every need."

You think over your choices. That cafe down the street is probably hiring.

[ambiguouslady42]

Remember Summer Days

I wrote my first fanfic. This will be reminiscent a tad to my own teen years. I'm playing with it and seeing if I can make it into a small series.

Synopsis: A hopeless teen girl has a meet-cute with the ever, handsome Satoru Gojo.

Note: This will mostly be intense fluff. I wrote this for me, but if you would like to leave feedback or notes, you can always DM me.

If you're a minor or an ageless blog, I will block you. No questions asked.

______________________________________________________________

2007

You were an awkward 16-year-old. You look back at this period and wonder how you did so little and so much. Concert ticket stubs, movie stubs, CD’s, posters. You certainly had many adventures, but you were a homebody who loved to daydream. You daydreamed of the day you would meet someone that you knew would change your life; the day came. It was the summer of 2007. His name was Satoru Gojo.

You were just cruising by high school at this time in your life. You were ambitious to pursue any career path from a politician, teacher, or a librarian. You were involved with a bunch of clubs because you were friends were involved in them. Your excited demeanour about making change and sharing ideas sometimes caught up with you; at times, you were the center of such critiques like “They’re so annoying, why do they even bother to come?” or “Is there any way that we could ditch them during this event”. 

Socializing at times was very difficult at school. At best, you had one friend, and even at times, you felt that you couldn’t really interact with a lot of your classmates. Your interests differed from that of everyone else.  Nobody has seen the movies that you have seen. Music? Most of the student populous didn’t listen to bands you listen to like Interpol, The Smiths, or The Strokes. If they did, well they weren’t part of your social circle. Your interests made you feel like an outsider. 

On the days you felt the most uncomfortable for speaking up or wanting to crawl into yourself, you would ride the rail line to head over to your favourite record store. It was a two-story building. It had everything you could possibly want. Vinyl, CD’S, cassettes, and the best part: movies. You felt a comfort in knowing that this store had everything that anyone could be searching for, if they knew where to look.

On this particular day you were looking at French films, particularly Amélie. Your best friend shared that it made an impact on her. You were talking to her on MSN Messenger during the weekend and discussed 

movies. 

[Mariella]: I just watched Amélie this last week. It’s soo cute.

[You]: What’s it about?

[Mariella]: It’s about a girl who is destined to help others, but along the way, she falls in love with her soulmate.

[Mariella]: Nino Quincampoix <333

You figured today was a great day to build your movie collection. As you were about to grab the DVD box, you noticed a tall figure across from you. You were standing right across from him. He had the flare of cool that you know you stood no chance in. What stood out to you the most was his white hair and round sunglasses. You thought to yourself “Of course they would wear sunglasses indoors. Wonder what their eyes look like.” You continued to stare.

He caught you staring. You wanted to shrivel up into a ball. You began to sweat. Suddenly he started to move towards you. You saw him circling through the aisle of DVD’s and then he was standing next to you. 

“Hi…” he said.

“Oh…hello”, you said back.

You could feel your face getting hot, but he still didn’t move away from you.  The first thing you notice is the DVD’s that he’s holding. You recognize a couple of 80’s movies You notice Gremlins, Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, and Back to the Future.

“That’s quite a collection you have there”, you said. 

“Oh, these? I just thought I’d finally be able to grab these classics. Have you ever seen any of these?” he says.

At this point, you’re getting pretty comfortable. With a sly smile on your face: “Of course I have. Who has not seen any of these movies?” 

He gives you a confident smile: “Well then, tell me about Ferris Bueller’s Day Off”.

  “Well first of all, hi. I’m Isabel”

“Nice to meet you, Isabel. I’m Satoru". 

[mirrorball-leclerc]

track 004. electric touch

─── ❝ i've got my money on things goin' badly, got a history of stories ending sadly ❞ ───

series masterlist // previous // next

APRIL 2017

DANIEL RICCIARDO AND MAX VERSTAPPEN RETURN FOR ON THE SOFA

comments

username these two share a special bond, i love it.

username max and daniel was a duo i didn’t know i need this bad.

username HE HAS A WHAT?

username danny, baby, this isn’t you. what about our 5 kids, our farmhouse, and 3 dogs?

username wonder who the slut is

username whoever this woman is, she’s not good enough for him.

username you don't even know who she is username he's not going to fall in love with you, he's not going to even like you if you keep shitting on his girlfriend you don't even know the name of username haven’t you heard? her name is casper

username everyone's shitting on his relationship but daniel seems genuinely happy. like geez, let the man be in love.

username daniel naming his girlfriend casper instead of using her actual name is such a daniel thing to do

username i was kind of expect joey or vegemite, something australian at least. casper’s gotta be an inside joke.

username daniel isn't dating daphne, but it would be hilarious if he would was because that means max and daniel could've been in laws and that's hilarious.

username that would've been so iconic. from being teammates to in-laws.

mae jones twitter is losing mind at this moment

daniel ricciardo why? i can't possibly assume why?

lewis hamilton didn't you just announce you're in a relationship with someone? i would assume that's why sebastian vettel he doesn't seem to care all that much

carlos sainz at least he didn't say who it was

max verstappen haven't you heard she's casper now? daphne jones i've disappeared from the media, i am casper, technically speaking.

mae jones it was smart of him to mention her as one of the friends he was hanging out with. people won't suspect her.

sebastian vettel i want to know how long this could possibly go on for. max verstappen knowing dan and daph, at least 5 years or more. lewis hamilton seems reasonable.

daphne jones ooh, i’m getting called a slut already

daniel ricciardo sweetheart no. daphne jones nothing i'm not used to already 🤷🏼‍♀️ carlos sainz i can defend your honor mae jones i can bite ankles. i am not above it. max verstappen we’re aware sebastian vettel you’re all children

max verstappen added one person

max verstappen don't make me fucking regret this gasly

max verstappen he was being a nuisance i had to add him mae jones that's a big word for elmo max verstappen fuck you jones mae jones woah, max, we broke up, you can't do that anymore max verstappen fuck off jones, that works better

lewis hamilton you have to swear to secrecy. what is said in the groupchat stays in the groupchat.

pierre gasly i solemnly swear max verstappen i swear if you add fucking leclerc i'm going to crash into you at turn one whenever you start racing in f1 pierre gasly i still don't understand why you hate him but okay mae jones he still bitter about the inchident max verstappen honestly mae, stop bullying me. mae jones but you make it so easy

carlos sainz daphne and daniel are dating and you can't tell anyone, not even this charles max is talking about.

pierre gasly daniel ricciardo dating music legend daphne jones? that seems like tas de merde

mae jones THEY DON'T TEACH FRENCH IN JAIL YOU FUCKING BAGUETTE!!! lewis hamilton you've been to jail? mae jones once in monopoly...it was not fun daniel ricciardo i nearly lost my couch the last time we played carlos sainz I ALMOST LOST AN EYE!

pierre gasly HOW THE HELL DID LEWIS AND SEBASTIAN END UP IN THIS BEFORE ME?

max verstappen fernando is here too, he just never answers pierre gasly I'VE KNOWN YOU MOST OF OUR LIVES AND THIS IS THE TREATMENT I GET? daniel ricciardo seb is the reason daphne and i are together. lewis is nursing a broken heart. rip nico and lewis' friendship, you will be missed and you were iconic. as for nando, well you try telling no to a 2x world champion that ended michael schumacher's streak mae jones fernando alonso is a legend put some respect on his name

carlos sainz he has to prove he's willing to defend daphne

pierre gasly fuck kanye daniel ricciardo that's the spirit daphne jones no. stop. don't encourage this daniel. max verstappen no let him. he deserves it.

fernando alonso will you people shut up? it's 3am, go to sleep.

sebastian vettel you're old, that's why you're boring. fernando alonso and yet neither of us has won a world championship with ferrari. sebastian vettel i still have time i don't plan on leaving anytime soon, unlike you, quitter. fernando alonso just don't pull another multi 21 with kimi and things will be fine

mae jones uncle lewis, our dads are fighting again!

lewis hamilton they'll get over it in a few hours. they always do.

fernando alonso changed the group name to multi 21 seb

fernando alonso changed the group photo

daniel ricciardo yeah this isn't going away any time soon

max verstappen where did he even find a picture for this? last time it was just a picture of nando's car

daphne jones not this again.

pierre gasly this happens often?

mae jones too often. at least once every two weeks.

AUGUST 23RD, 2017

liked by maejones, pierregasly, maxverstappen33 and others

danielricciardo something about how the world moves on another drama but not for me.

view all comments

user92 mr.ricciardo, what does that caption mean?

maejones i see you did your research

danielricciardo i have it written down and underlined in red.

user61 coincidence that this is posted the same day daphne jones announces her new album? i think not

user31 song lyrics? danielriccciardo okay, sherlock and watson, calm down. you expect daphne 'expert secret keeper' jones, to tell me daniel 'blabbermouth' ricciardo her song lyrics? user89 he's got a good point. if anything she'd tell mae, her sister, and not one of her friends.

maxverstappen33 why that picture out of all of them? you have so many and you chose that one?

danielricciardo i think i look fucking great

¡leclerc-s speaks! we will not be speaking of today's grand prix. i live in delusion, charles is still, sadly, p6 and lewis is p2. i will take no arguments on this. enjoy this short chapter.

¡disclaimer! this is in no way making assumptions about the people involved in this story, this is all fake. it is a fanfiction please don't take any of what is said seriously. this is all for entertainment purposes and as a creative outlet for me. enjoy!

[666writingcafe]

I'd like an order of “Look at your reflection. Look at how gorgeous you are. So fucking gorgeous when we're fucking you like this." "So pretty for us, and only for us.” Beel and Satan pretty please!

Order #3

"Look at your reflection. Look at how gorgeous you are. So fucking gorgeous when we're fucking you like this." "So pretty for us, and ONLY for us." Beel x MC x Satan

Author's Note: I'm going to be referencing this. The more I wrote, the more this turned into a mini fic, so it'll take a while to get to the juicy stuff. Also, I altered the requested line slightly to make it a little less wordy, but it's the same general message.

One

Before Project Friendship, Satan and Beelzebub weren't that close. It was the classic case of brain versus brawn, and Satan didn't think he had much in common with his brother. He certainly didn't understand why Beel would constantly stare at him. The first couple of times, he thought Beel was simply zoning out, but then it kept happening, and Satan began getting annoyed. Why was his brother looking at him like that, anyway? Did he think Satan was a freak, just like everyone else did?

Satan initially found it odd that the two of them were paired together for this little sleepover at the castle, but he decided it would be the perfect opportunity to confront Beel about his staring, because it was sure to happen at some point during their stay.

And it did, on the very first night as the two of them were getting ready for bed. Satan was reading one of the books he brought along with him when he felt eyes intently on him.

"Why do you do that?!" he snarls, snapping his book shut and nearly slamming it on the bedside table. "It's bad enough when Belphie does it, and he's a lot smaller than you are. You doing it is downright creepy." Beel mumbles something, and Satan feels more enraged.

"Oh, so you're brave enough to gawk, but not to speak? Typical air-headed jock. Is there even an actual thought in your head, or is it stuffed full of cheeseburgers and french fries?"

"And you wonder why I don't talk." Beel's bluntness paired with a sudden glare shuts Satan up. "I've wanted to develop a better relationship with you for a while, but I was afraid you'd push me away like this. After all, what do I have to offer? I'm not nearly as intelligent as some of your other friends, right? I couldn't possibly understand the intricacies of the subtexts in the books you read; I'm just an air-headed jock."

The only thing Satan can manage to reply is,

"You've been reading my books?"

"Well, not your copies. I didn't want to damage them, because I know a lot of them are really valuable. But what I could find in RAD's library, I have read, including the one you brought with you." Satan glances at the book on the nightstand.

"The Blighted Marigold? I didn't think you were into mysteries."

"The author is behind a series of books that inspired some of Levi's video games. Mercury's Demise, I believe it's called. Belphie and I played them a couple of times with him, and I found myself sucked into the game's story. I ended up binging the entire series in a month. The way he writes made me feel like I was one of the characters, and I wanted to see if he'd published anything else."

"When did you find the time? Those books are massive!" Beel shrugs.

"I made time, Satan. Isn't that something you're familiar with doing?" Beel has him there. In some ways, their schedules are similarly packed with extracurricular activities.

"Did you finish this?" Satan asks, picking up the book again.

"Yes."

"I'm about halfway through this, and I can't figure out who the killer is. Usually I can by this point in a mystery, but for some reason I'm completely stumped."

"That's because the suspects are all red herrings." Beel can tell that his brother's completely dumbfounded. "They all have motives for killing Mr. Marigold, which makes it more difficult to discern the killer. But it's not any of them. It's someone that almost fades into the background but shows up time and time again. They don't say much, but that's intentional. By remaining quiet, they can get away with the murder and have one of the loudmouths put behind bars."

"You mean..." Satan trails off, his eyes suddenly widening. "Isabella?!" Beel nods his head. "But how? Why?"

"Standard poisoning. As for the why, I don't want to spoil too much for you, so I'll just tell you this: in the first couple of chapters, there are a couple of seemingly throwaway lines, but they turn out to be the very thing the detective needed to solve the case."

"And when did you figure this out?"

"After the reading of the will and Isabella's reaction to it in the next chapter."

"But that takes place in chapters two and three!" Beel shrugs.

"Pays to observe people."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Have you ever wondered why I don't say much?"

"I just assumed you didn't have anything to offer to the conversation." Beel sighs.

"So does everyone else. Even Belphie, and he knows me better than most." He pauses. "The truth is, I spend a lot of time people-watching. I make mental notes of their behavior so that I can interact with them better."

"For example?"

"Levi rambles around people he finds cute. He used to clam up, but he realized people found that weird, so he's overcompensating by talking a mile a minute. He's lucky MC finds it endearing, because his info-dumping would annoy anyone else he was trying to pursue." Satan tilts his head.

"Now you've made me curious. What else have you picked up from us?"

"The shade of Asmo's nails matches his mood. Lighter colors mean he's generally happy, while darker colors indicate his moodiness. Lucifer will grant permission to anything you ask him after four glasses of Demonus, but five will have him crying about the war, and six will make him angry and irritable. Mammon sometimes sneaks out at night to various orphanages and entertains the kids there for a few hours. They like giving him cheaply-made fabric pins, usually shaped like stars, and he attaches them to items he rarely uses as to not damage them."

"What about me?" Beel looks directly into Satan's eyes.

"You grip the spines of your books whenever you're angry but trying not to blow up in someone's face. That's how I know to keep my distance."

~~~

Two

"Diavolo's going to drop out soon." Satan glances up from his script with a confused look on his face.

"Did he say something to you?" he asks, prompting Beel to shake his head.

"His performance isn't quite as convincing as it once was. His character is supposed to be betrothed to Lucifer's, and yet it seems as though his heart's not in it anymore."

"Maybe he's having a hard time focusing." Beel snorts in bitter amusement.

"That's an understatement." Satan sets his script down on the nightstand.

"Clearly you're seeing something that I'm not. Would you care to explain what that is?"

"The nature of the love triangle is changing. Diavolo and MC are no longer at odds with each other."

"I have noticed that," Satan replies. "MC's stay here at the castle has allowed them to form a pretty solid friendship."

"I'd say it's more than friendship at this point." Satan's eyes widen. "It's possible that MC's oblivious to this, but Diavolo's developing a pretty strong crush on them. His touch and gaze lingers on them a bit too long for it to be him simply protecting them as they're healing from their mental breakdown."

"It upsets you, doesn't it?" Beel sighs.

"I know it shouldn't."

"I didn't mean to sound judgemental, Beel. I was simply making an observation. I can tell that talking about this is making you tense up." Silence. Beel looks down at his script, but he's not reading any of the words on the page. Instead, he's hoping to zone out long enough to block out his simmering rage.

"You're doing that in front of the wrong person," Satan warns Beel. "My presence tends to shorten others' fuses. It'd be better if you simply let it out while you still have control." Another sigh as Beel sets his script down on the bed.

"I want them. For myself. I know it's silly and never going to happen given how we all feel about them, but it's something that I continue craving. There are times where it overtakes my hunger for food. I can eat and eat and eat, but there isn't a single dish that's an adequate replacement for MC. Not when I get in that kind of mood, anyway."

"There's something rather addicting about them, isn't there?"

"Yes. It's like a constant sugar rush."

"Dopamine."

"Same concept, though. The more you have it, the more you want it, which makes you have it even more. It's a vicious cycle."

"And Diavolo has a tendency to hoard things he really enjoys." Satan briefly pauses. "Like a dragon."

"Exactly. Theoretically, he could order us to stay away from MC so that he doesn't have to share them with us, and we'd be powerless to stop him." Beel looks away from Satan, suddenly feeling ashamed. "And we wonder why MC's growing more annoyed with us. We're treating them like an object and forgetting that they're capable of making their own decisions. If they want to spend more time with Diavolo, then who am I to stop them? It's not like they're exclusively tied to any of us." The two brothers sit quietly as Satan mulls over Beel's words. In a lot of ways, they mirror his own internal dialogue regarding MC.

"I have an idea," he states after a few minutes. Beel narrows his eyes.

"It better not get us in trouble. We're still in hot water for what happened last night in the kitchen."

"Don't worry, it's nothing that destructive. In fact, it won't even happen until MC's settled back in at the House. But it does require some planning. Our schedules--" Satan gestures between the two of them. "--have to line up during a time when everyone else--" His fingers quickly circle the air. "--is busy and, more importantly, out of our hair."

"Why?"

"Because we need to tell MC how we feel without worrying about someone interrupting us. It might take a while, and it may get a bit noisy."

~~~

Three

A Few Weeks After MC's Return to the House of Lamentation

MC's not entirely sure how their evening turned out this way. They were studying when they heard a knock on their bedroom door, and opening it revealed Satan and Beel on the other side. When the two brothers got settled, they began telling MC how they were feeling, and the three of them had a rather long but insightful conversation. Given its length, MC thought that Beel and Satan merely wanted to get some things off their chest before it drove them crazy.

As it turns out, they had other plans.

The second Beel had finished talking, his lips were on MC's. A moment later, Satan was nibbling on their neck. Beel had lifted MC onto his lap, and their hands were buried in his hair as he continued kissing them. The sensation of Satan's teeth was driving MC wild. They had no idea Satan was this good with his mouth, and they were already anticipating where else he could use it.

Once Satan felt like he'd left a satisfactory mark on their skin, he gently pulls on MC's earlobe with his teeth.

"Would you like us to fuck you, darling?" he purrs. "We'll take such good care of you. Just say the word."

"Please."

"Hmm?"

"Please, fuck me." Satan smiles against their neck.

"Your wish is our command."

Beel lifts MC into his arms and carries them over to their bed, carefully places them in the center. MC watches as Satan and Beel remove their shirts. Their eyes drink in the sight of the brothers' exposed skin. No matter how many times they've seen the brothers shirtless, MC can't help but marvel at their physique. While Beel is certainly more muscular and toned, Satan isn't nearly as scrawny as he might appear with clothes on.

The two of them crawl onto the bed, each settling on either side of MC. Satan gently cups their face, running his thumb along their cheek.

"You are so precious," he murmurs.

"Like a piece of candy." Beel's lips graze the side of MC's neck. "Sweeter than anything I've ever tasted."

"A sweet delicacy that's all for us." Beel's mouth captures MC's again as Satan begins undressing them.

"You're going to make such beautiful noises for us, aren't you?"

"I'll scream your names loud enough to wake the dead." The two men chuckle.

"Now that would be an interesting conversation to have with the others." Beel's kisses slowly move downwards, eventually landing on MC's chest. His tongue flicks over their nipple before his teeth graze the skin, drawing out a sharp hiss from MC.

"Be gentle," they whine.

"Don't mind me. I'm merely playing with my food." His fingers pinch their other nipple, causing MC to whimper.

"That's an understatement," Satan scoffs.

"They're so sensitive." Beel's fingers tug and twist, the motion drawing louder and louder moans from MC. "I could do this all day." Satan quietly moves closer to the pair and slides a hand down MC's pants.

"Well, well, well. Did being teased turn you on that much?" His fingers push past the waistband of MC's underwear, and he begins gently stroking their slit.

"So soft," he hums.

"Can I have a taste?" Beel pleads.

"I suppose." Satan's hands move away from MC's center, allowing Beel to finish undressing them. Once MC is nude, Beel spreads their legs wide. He leans in and takes a deep inhale, his eyes briefly closing.

"Heaven," he breathes. His tongue darts out and swipes along their folds, causing MC to shudder.

"You taste amazing," Beel purrs.

"I think I'll have a taste too." Satan's mouth lands on the side of MC's neck, kissing and biting the flesh. MC's back arches, pressing their center against Beel's face as they begin riding his tongue.

"Oh, they like that," Satan chuckles. His hand slips underneath MC's ass, and his finger lightly strokes their hole. "What do you say we give them some more pleasure?"

"Yes, please," MC whines. Satan grins.

"Well, since you asked so nicely." His mouth moves away from their skin, and MC immediately misses the feeling of his teeth on their neck. The sensation is short-lived, however, as Beel's fingers slip inside them, quickly finding their g-spot.

"I think it's only fair if you also give me a treat," Satan tells them. He sits up and removes his pants, letting them drop to the floor. That's all the instruction MC needs. Soon, they're sucking on his dick like their life depended on it.

Satan moans and his fingers thread through MC's hair, gripping it tightly.

"That's it. Let me fill your throat with my cock. You're taking me so well." As they suck him off, MC can feel Beel's fingers curling, the tips grazing their g-spot. A third finger joins the first two, and soon MC is seeing stars. The pleasure's so intense, and they can't help but buck their hips against Beel's hand.

Satan briefly glances at MC's mirror before doing a double take. Its current image, in his opinion, is nothing short of a work of art.

"Look at your reflection," he murmurs. "Look how gorgeous you are when we're fucking you like this."

"You're so pretty for us," Beel quietly adds. "And ONLY for us."

Taglist: @lost-in-time-wanderer, @fuzztacular, @dianedancer18, @sweetbrier2908, @flare-love, @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf, @thunderlightning351, @l3v1chan, @anxious-chick, @5mary5, @expressionless-fr, @tenkobitch, @budbuddnbuddy

[winterrrnight]

hi bestie!! i love you and im so proud of you!!

can i get meet me in the hallway with zach & prompt 16 🤭

ahh thank you sm bestie!! I loved writing this and I hope you like it too!! ❤️❤️

he isn't you

PAIRING: zach maclaren x gn!reader

SUMMARY: you tell your best friend what you feel about him.

WARNINGS: nothing, reader has a boyfriend, and reader also cheats on said boyfriend but we want that to happen guys 😏

EDITH SPEAKS: im back from the dead!! what a way to start with the new year honestly. I feel a bit rusty so this may not be as good as the rest of my stuff, but I think its pretty good :) I hope you all enjoy! please vote & comment if you enjoyed <3

PROMPT REQUESTED: "he treats me well-" "okay good for you." "- but he isn't you."

You kick your shoes off your feet as you close the door behind yourself, sighing out loud with the tiredness basically crushing you underneath itself. You had a pretty tiring day at your university today; classes at a longer stretch and much more boring than usual.

You hear the doorbell of your apartment ring before you can relax on your couch and take a proper breath. You walk back to the door and see your boyfriend River on the other side, smiling. 

“Oh hey River,” you give a tired smile. He leans in to press a kiss on your cheek. 

“You sound tired, you okay?” He asks, as you finally get to sit on your couch. You groan as you stretch and prop up your feet on your coffee table. 

“I'm fine, just a long day of classes today,” you say, yawning. You look up to see him standing next to you. “You're not going to sit?” 

“Uh, I was actually wondering if you'd want to spend the evening out, there is this art exhibit only for today and I really thought you'd like to go,” he says sheepishly. 

“Oh River,” you say, getting up, “I wish I could but I'm just so so tired, and the amount of assignments and readings I have to complete isn't helping at all,” 

“So you're just going to blow me off again?” 

His words take you by surprise. “What do you mean?”

“Last week you missed our date-”

“That was because I had to urgently go to my parents home, I told you that,”

“And the week before you didn't come to the carnival with me,”

“It was during mid terms week and I was really behind,” 

“And what about that one time I was planning to take you to this French restaurant but you didn't come?” 

“Zach was sick! He was at the hospital River, and that was the night his situation had gotten so much worse!” You say, completely exasperated. “This is too much right now, I've always had a reason to not come to our dates. What about that one time I wanted to take you to a dinner with my family and you blew me off and never even told me where you were?” 

“Wait that time I-”

“And do you even remember when you told me you were busy to have a movie night with me and then a friend told me you were actually at a party? Huh? I never avoid our dates if I don't have a big reason to miss them, but you miss them and don't even care to explain why you didn't come?” 

That shuts him up, because he's looking everywhere but you, his jaw clenched tightly. 

“I'm sorry River but I can't come with you today. I would like to rest and have an early start to my day tomorrow,” 

You can see he wants to say something; a lot of things actually - give you an earful, but he opts for the smarter choice and doesn't say anything, silently making his way out of your house. But he still needs to display the extent of his anger, so he slams the door loudly on his way out. 

You plop back on your couch, wanting to distract yourself with some movie. You get your tv remote and start to scroll through Netflix, trying to find something which attracts your eye, but your doorbell rings again, agitating you. 

You wonder if it's River again, but much to your surprise it's Zach, holding two completely filled take away bags. 

“I saw you leaving uni really late when I was at my football practice so I thought you may need these,” he chuckles. The brightest smile pulls your lips and you instantly hug him, catching him off guard but he hugs you back. 

“That's exactly what I needed right now,” you say, taking one bag from him and letting him in. 

You proceed to your kitchen to get plates and rest of the cutlery, but Zach stops you right in your tracks. 

“Ah let me do that, you go and sit,” he insists, taking the bag back from you. 

“Are you sure-”

“Yes yes, I know my way really well around here,” you giggle and go back to your couch, continuing your search for the perfect movie. 

In the meantime Zach brings the food and places it all in front of you, the aroma wafting up to your nose and making you feel hungrier. But you still haven't found what you want to watch. 

“Why is nothing attracting my eye?” You say, your mouth now full with food. 

“Why don't we just talk?” Zach suggests, and you ponder over it for a moment, realizing it is the better thing to do right now.

“Well, what do you want to talk about?” You ask, turning to face him as you fiddle around with the food on your plate with your fork. 

“Well, feel free to not answer this question,” he starts, “but I've been wondering about this for quite some time and I just want to let it out; I haven't seen you with River lately, usually you used to be hanging out with him so much, always on dates and uni’s football and basketball matches, but I just, I haven't seen you with him often,”

Your focus is completely on your food, the way each vegetable is placed on your plate suddenly becoming the most interesting thing. 

Zach wonders if he's messed up asking this question when he sees you completely shut off and silent. “I'm, I'm sorry, I don't want to ask you something you don't want to discuss, but I just need to know if you're happy with him or not. Nothing matters more than your happiness,” his voice reduces to a soft mumble, which only just relaxes you instead of making you feel anxious on having to discuss such a heavy topic. 

“It's, it's okay, I guess. I don't know… we've been trying to make plans but one of us usually has some other more important place to be. I always make sure to tell him why I can't come, and it's always something unavoidable, but he, he never cares to tell me why he won't be coming. It's just always ‘oh I'm sorry babe I just had to go somewhere else.’ Where? I never know. 

“And it's not just that. He always gets offended when I cancel on him but that's never the case when it's the other way round. His focus on us, it isn't, it isn't the same, and he isn't as understanding as he was before.”

Just as you finish speaking, you feel like a big load is lifted off of you. Your mind has been bothered by it since days ago, and it was starting to affect your everyday activities. But talking about it, letting it all out makes you feel relaxed. 

Zach looks at you with a soft look in his eyes, not knowing what you've been going through all this time. 

“But, he's also there for me, you know? That one time I fell down from the stairs, I called him and he came so quickly, and I know I can count on him to get me anything I need at any time,” you continue, feeling so torn about what you're actually feeling about him. “I just, I don't know where we are leading to right now. I think I may need some time away from him, just being with myself and not seeing him as often as usual,”

You look at Zach whose focus is entirely on you and your words. Sometimes you wish he's the one you're spending your time with. He gets you in a way no one can, not even River even if he tries for a billion years. When you feel sad about something, you prefer to call up Zach than River, because he listens to you better, and makes you feel important. 

“I think it would be nice for you to spend some time with yourself, to do some things you've thought of doing but couldn't, starting with new hobbies, or the ones you haven't picked up in some time,” Zach starts. “It'll help you introspect more into your personality, and generally just make you feel better. Maybe he's going through a difficult time right now, and being apart for some time might help him too,” 

“You're right,” you say, “maybe being apart will do us some good. I mean, he treats me well-”

"okay good for you,"

“- but Zach,” you look up at him as you cut him off, your eyes sinking into his, “he isn't you.” 

The last words come out as a whisper, getting lost in the air around you two. For a second you're worried that he didn't hear them, because you think you can't muster up the courage to repeat those words. But the widening of his eyes, him breaking your eye contact, and his sped up breathing makes you think differently. 

“Zach, you mean so much to me than he does. You listen to me better, you understand things in a way he doesn't. I will always prefer you to talk about things than him, because he tends to shut me off but you never do. What we have is so special to me,” you let out. 

It's the last year at your university, and you've been feeling this way about Zach since the very start. You've wanted to admit it all to him, but before you could, River came into the picture. And for a while there, you felt as if you didn't need Zach. River seemed perfect; everything you could've asked for. 

But now, you finally have the chance to develop something with Zach you've always wanted. 

Zach calls out your name softly, your heart beating faster with the way your name falls off his lips. “You mean the whole world to me. I’d take you in my arms and protect you from all the harm in this world if I could. I've never liked River anyways, he seems stuck up and doesn't give you the attention you deserve. He should treat you like an angel, not the way he actually does,”

He moves closer to you, his hand now resting against your cheek. 

This feels so right. 

You lean in, and he does too, meeting his lips halfway as you allow yourself to get lost in him; in his smell, his taste, his lips. 

Oh, his lips. 

Soft and sweet as nectar; nectar which can make the flowers bloom and just set everything in your life right. 

His arms, wrapped around your waist as he pulls you closer to him, yours around his neck as you close even the smallest distance between you two. 

He pulls apart from you, your forehead resting against his as you breathe a little heavily. 

“I think,” you whisper, “I think I've fallen for you Zach.”

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

TAGLIST: @runningfrom2am @saccharinesammie @maybankslover @totalswag @madelynie @chenslucy @ietss @elle-mp3 @viawritesstuff @wallsdreams @tahliac11 @sadfury @newsies-pape-girl @jamesbuckybarneswify @xxxlaura @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles

[bellarkeselection]

Can you do a bash short were he comes back to France with y/n as his wife and they explain why they got married in Secret

Princess’s Make Their Own Rules

Nobody expected the kings Bastard to ever marry anyone. The note that his mother was his mistress was enough for people to turn the other way from the thought. But when Mary arrived at court, so did the Princess from England, and she had some shocking news for everyone at the French court. Stepping down from the carriage my eyes didn't even notice the rest of the court simply because I already had my attention set on the only person I cared about which was Sebastian or as he preferred to be called Bash. He moved through the crowd offering me his arm with a head nod. "Princess Y/n."

"Sebastian." I greeted looping my arm through his when he offered it to me. Together we began walking through the crowd who all just stared confused at us.

Bash tilted his head to the side complimenting on the dress I had worn. It was gold with short sleeves covered with lace. "I would have thought you'd stole into court wearing trousers." His blue eyes scanned me over smirking when he saw my horse riding boots peaking out from underneath.

"My sister is having a hard enough time ruling without a husband. At the very least, I thought I'd make my first impression at court good.. but later, you won't be seeing this ridiculous gown." I whispered the last part in his ear before we saw his half-brother, the now turned King of France Francis, coming towards us.

The blonde curly haired king smiled bowing at the same time I gave him a curtsey. "Princess Y/n, it's pleased to see you back at court."

"I'm glad to be back, you're grace. I was wondering if I could speak with you both privately for a moment?" I glanced between the pair so Francis nodded walking down the closet hallway until we reached an empty chamber door. Bash locked the door so we wouldn't be interrupted.

Francis raised a brow at me. “So what did you want to talk about with me?”

“I needed to give this to you. And ask that you wed me and your brother officially in front of the court.” Reaching for the necklace around my neck I revealed the ring that was hanging from the chain that was Bash’s mother’s ring. Since my sister was Queen Elizabeth we couldn’t legally get married because he was a bastard and I was a princess by birth. I handed over a sealed scroll hidden inside one of my boots and gave it to Francis.

Bash blinked his eyes confused at my boldness. “Y/n, you know that we can’t. You’re royal and I am a bastard.”

“And yet my sister has declared that she shall never marry anyone and bear children. So what is stopping me from following my heart and marrying the man I love hmm.” I lightly snapped at him with my hands on my hips.

My secret husband shifted his attention to his brother who had opened the scroll I had given him still in shock at the idea I was proposing. “Is this even possible. I mean unless I got legitimized as Henry’s son it shouldn’t be possible.”

“You’re right it wouldn’t be until this…” Francis clear his throat reading the letter aloud. “I Queen Elizabeth of England hereby declare that my sister Y/n and Sebastian de Poitiers are allowed to be wed. Sebastian shall inherit the title of prince and will be the master of my armies. He shall no longer be a bastard after marrying my sister and that is final.”

Bash steps towards me gently grabbing a hold of my shoulders where I focused on his bright blue eyes. “How did you get her to agree to legitimize me?”

“I told just how you have treated me, made me happy and that I just wished that stupid titles weren’t in our way. And she didn’t see any problems with not following what everyone else has done in the past. So…will you marry me Bash?” Lowering myself down on one knee in front of him I take his hands in mine staring up into his eyes.

Francis made a confused face at his brothers response. “No.”

“Uh…” I slightly froze not sure what would happen next.

Yet Bash lowered himself down on one knee where we were both on our knees and eye level with each. He holds my hands in his, his blue orbs pouring into mine when he delivers his question to me. “That’s not how this is done. This is how is done, Princess. Y/n, will you marry me and make this bastard the happiest man on earth?”

“Yes, Sebastian.” I nodded moving forward kissing him. He cupped my face kissing me back with Francis smiling behind us.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[heresthestorymorningglory]

Can You Keep A Secret?

Summary: The hot guy at the bar can do more than flirt

A/N: You guys know the drill; NSFW 18+ because here, we like it spicy ;)

It's a part of a collab with the gorgeous Goosecord and another first for me.

As always, my darling soul sister, @ken-dom, thank you for the beta read and endless support and reassurance! Although...I still think you're biased. 🩷

The song they dance to, because I'm an old soul and will forever project on my writing is Ain't That A Kick In The Head by Dean Martin. You've heard it, and if you haven't....go listen now and come back.

Enjoy my loves!

You sighed heavily, squeezing your eyes shut tighter against the impending sunlight. You stretched, your head pounding with the reminder of the night before.

You took in a deep breath, an unfamiliar smell invading your senses; you frowned, turning your head on the pillow before blinking your eyes open.

You weren't in your own bed, and you were alone.

You rubbed your hand over your eyes, getting your bearings as you sat up, the soft cotton sheet pooling in your lap.

You weren't naked, thank God. But you weren't wearing your own clothes either.

You were clad in a soft black t-shirt and your panties from the night before.

You pulled yourself out of the soft bedding, making your way out to where you could hear noises coming from the kitchen.

Leaning on the doorframe you bit gently on your lip watching the man you'd met the night before standing at the stove. Jacob he has said his name was, Jacob Palmer. He was cooking breakfast, a pair of blue plaid pajama pants hanging loosely on his hips.

He glanced at the door sensing your presence and offered you a half hearted smile. “Morning”

You walk deeper into the kitchen, resting against the sleek countertop. “Morning” you offer the same lazy smile.

The kitchen smells heavenly. French toast, bacon, coffee. No eggs you noticed,

“Cooking bacon without a shirt on,” you observed “Seems dangerous”

“Well, my shirt is currently in use elsewhere” he smirked

You dropped your gaze to the floor feeling your cheeks flush pink, but you couldn't help smiling back.

“Are you hungry?” He asked, offering you a mug of coffee.

You accepted with a nod, the hot coffee warming your hands “Ravenous”

“How did you sleep?” He asked, turning the bacon over in the pan

“Good,” you smiled bringing the coffee cup to your lips “Really good”

You leaned against the counter, watching him cook, the guy you had met in the bar the night before had disappeared. The well dressed put together Calvin Klein model with the suave attitude had vanished after about the third glass of whiskey.

He had “moves” he had said; moves to impress the revolving door of women you had now joined. You knew by morning he wouldn’t remember what your name was, wouldn’t care so you chose to take the same approach.

You knew what this was, he knew what this was, why pretend it was anything different?

You had thought for sure he would interpret this as an insult, the tipsy girl from the bar didn’t want to sleep with the ridiculously hot guy. Why the hell not?

Instead, you found yourself on his couch with his head in your lap as you absently twisted his dirty blond hair around your fingers.

The mask had fallen away, you sat and listened as he told you about things he had wanted in life, things he had hoped to accomplish.

On the surface he was wildly successful in every way someone would think to want to be in your mid-thirties; and while you had found yourself sobering up, he was slightly more drunk than when you had arrived. The hand not busy in his hair, rested on his chest, his fingers dragging lazily over the back of your hand as he stared out the massive windows at the front of his house.

It was quiet for a long time before he spoke again. You had wondered if he had fallen asleep and were surprised it hadn’t made you jump when he did speak.

“I wanna tell someone about my day, y’know?” he spoke softly, not moving, legs stretched out across the couch, feet bare, shoes abandoned somewhere on the floor. He might as well not be wearing a shirt at all, the one he did have on was untucked and almost completely unbuttoned. “I want them to be here when I wake up, I wanna make them breakfast”

This made you smile and you considered not saying anything at all, but decided against it. “I like breakfast…”

He glanced up at you with a raised eyebrow “Eggs and bacon?”

“I’m allergic to eggs, but I love everything else”

He hadn’t said anything after that, so you weren’t too sure how serious he had been, but now, the next morning, you were standing in his kitchen and he had opted for french toast and bacon instead of eggs.

“Need any help?” you asked circling around behind him to the other side of the counter where the plate of finished bacon sat.

You picked up a piece with your fingers immediately taking a bite followed immediately by regret.

“It’s hot” he winced, offering you a paper towel into which you promptly spat the scalding hot piece of meat.

“You okay?” he asked with a small laugh

You nodded “So…” you started, changing the subject, if only to make yourself feel less dumb as you threw out the paper towel. “I have yet to see these moves you promised”

“Can you keep a secret?” he asked, turning off the stove, setting the finished french toast next to the bacon.

“Depends,” you smirked, setting your coffee down “Does it end with me in your basement freezer?”

He laughed out loud before shaking his head “No”

“Then probably”

He picked up the small remote that had been sitting on the counter and pressed a button before putting it back.

Dean Martin started playing throughout the entire house. You pressed your lips together suppressing a smile with a raised eyebrow as Jacob offered you a hand. You looked from his hand to his face and back again before you took it.

He pulled you against him, his free hand finding your waist; your hand finding his shoulder as he moved swiftly around the tile floor, he kept a tight grip on your hand as you spun away before he spun you back, your back hitting his bare chest with a thump.

You couldn’t help the small chuckle that came out as his hand found your hip as you leaned against his shoulder as he kept a hold of your other hand.

He was singing along in between trumpets.

You gasped as his foot hooked around your ankle, knocking you off your feet; he caught you before you crashed to the floor in the most ungraceful way, practically dipping you to the tiles as his hand slid up your bare thigh under his t-shirt, keeping your leg pressed to his thigh. Your arms instinctively find their way around his neck.

His breathing was even and steady as his blue eyes fixed on yours; your breathing was not.

He set you upright, his chest still practically pressed against yours; your breath shaky and uneven as the song came to an end. Neither of you moved, his hands still on your waist, yours still around his neck.

His eyes were focused on your lips before he glanced at you briefly and you gave the slightest nod.

His lips crushed against yours as he pushed you back against the counter before lifting you on its top in one swift motion. His tongue tangling with yours as your legs locked around his middle, pushing the already dangerously loose pajama pants off his hips to pool at his ankles. He kicked them out of the way, reaching up under the t-shirt you still had on, tugging your panites off and dropping them at his feet.

He braced himself against the cabinets behind your head with both hands as your mouth moved to devour his neck.

“This isn’t-” His breath was heavy against your neck as his head dropped to your shoulder “I didn’t-”

You pushed him back gently by the shoulders, forcing him to look at you. “You want it as bad as I do,” you breathed hard “So just shut up and fu-”

He cut you off, kissing you hard; he reached between you, the head of his cock lining up with your entrance before he thrust forward, filling you to the hilt, making you cry out into his mouth. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you flush against him to the very edge of the counter.

The counter stood sturdy underneath you as his fingers threaded with yours, pinning your arms to the cabinets over your head.

His mouth never stopped moving as you moaned against his lips as he thrust harder, your ankles still locked firmly around the small of his back. You thrust your hips as much as your position would allow as you broke your kiss with a deep gasp. His breath was hot and heavy against your ear, your fingers squeezing between his painfully as you rocked on the kitchen counter leaning your head back against the cabinets, moaning towards the ceiling.

Jacob let your hands drop as he braced himself against the counter’s edge, thrusting harder, groaning against your neck as your arms dropped around his neck letting out a sharp gasp as your orgasm shot through your core, your nails leaving half moon welts the flesh of his shoulder blades, your body quakeing with pleasure as your walls clenched around his shaft eliciting a loud moan from him, before you felt him spill inside you, leaking out on the counter underneath as he breathed a soft “Fuck” against your ear.

You gasped softly as he slid from inside you, your hand reaching to push the hair that had fallen in his face back; both of you breathing hard.

“I have moves too” you smirked, making him laugh softly as he rested his forehead against yours, claiming your swollen lips in a gentle kiss.

[willalove75]

Hii, can I request Rebecca X reader. Something similar to the plot where she met the Dutch man and had an amazing day . She met reader is Paris (the most beautiful woman line is so 🥺). they met in a bar or coffee shop and spent a wonderful weekend together ? Rebecca is surprised that reader still wants to see her considering she's younger . She actually felt free and happy ,no stress and not judged . Flirting, fluff , anything. You write her character so well and accurately 😁

I LOVE THIS🥺🥺 And thank you so much!! I'm glad I'm able to do her justice!😄💕

Thank you so much for the request!!💕💕

Walking through the streets of Paris, you're trying your best to not get lost. You left your hostel almost an hour ago trying to find the café you went to the day before but since you know virtually no French, your search hasn't been going well.

You stumble across a different café, it wasn't the one you were looking for but you're in desperate need of food and caffeine so you cut your losses and walk in.

You walk up to the counter and butcher your order of a tea and croissant, the barista manages to understand you, but you still receive a ton of dirty looks from the staff and other patrons of the café.

You're handed your order and turn to find a place to sit down. In the corner of the shop you see a beautiful blond woman gazing out the window, sipping on her drink. The café isn't super crowded, but you decide to shoot your shot and ask her if you can join her. She's absolutely stunning so it takes you a few seconds to gain up the courage to put one foot in front of the other.

As you're walking over she looks away from the window and your eyes meet, her gorgeous green eyes take your breath away for a moment. It's in that second you realize that there's a good chance she's French and doesn't speak any English and you start to panic, but you can't back out now. You take the last few steps up to her table and she smiles at you.

"Hi, um, is this seat taken?" You shyly ask.

The woman smiles, her eyes sparkling, it would be a miracle if she understands you right now.

"No, not at all."

You exhale a sigh of relief and sit down.

"Oh thank god you speak English. It didn't dawn on me that there was a really good chance you only spoke French until it was too late for me to abandon ship." You say with a laugh as you sit.

The woman softly laughs. "Well today must be your lucky day."

"It certainly seems that way. I'm y/n, sorry for interrupting your breakfast, this might sound super cheesy but I saw you and I was like 'wow she's absolutely beautiful' and I had to at least try and talk to you." You look away as you feel your cheeks getting red.

"You're so sweet, thank you so much. I'm Rebecca." She reaches out her hand and you shake it. "So what brings you to Paris y/n?"

"My friend and I were supposed to come here together but she got covid before we left so she couldn't come."

"Oh no, so you're here all by yourself?" She asks.

"Yup, it's even more unfortunate because she was the one who spoke French and I don't speak an ounce of it, so it's safe to say that most of the people I interact with are not my biggest fans." You say as you look over at the barista who catches your eye and gives you a dirty look. You turn back to Rebecca and you both laugh. "So why are you in Paris?"

"I had some time off from work so I decided to go on a little trip by myself."

"Oh that's cool, I'm guessing you speak French?"

"Oui, je parle couramment le français."

(Yes, I am fluent in French)

"I have no idea what any of that meant but I'm going to take a wild guess and say that's a yes?"

"Yes," she says with a laugh. "It means 'yes, I'm fluent in French.'"

"Oh that's really cool! Where did you learn French?"

"I learned it in school, we started learning young and I picked it up really easily. Do you know any languages?"

"Not really, I took Spanish in middle school and high school but I didn't like it and forgot just about all of it by the time I graduated. I do know sign language though. Well, American sign language that is."

"That's really interesting, how much sign language do you know?"

"I'm pretty much fluent." You begin to sign as you speak. "I can practically have this whole conversation in asl. I took a few classes in high school because my friend convinced me to sign up for it and I fell in love with it. They offered asl classes at my college so I just kept with it. I don't get to use it often, but it's a fun party trick." You say with a laugh.

You watch Rebecca follow your hands as you sign, she looks mesmerized by it, like she's watching a ballet dancer.

"That's really, really fascinating." She says with a smile.

"Yeah, but I do have to be careful when I'm not in the US because signs in asl could mean something completely different in another languages sign language. With my luck I'll sign a song I'm listening to or something and end up accidentally cursing out an old man." You say with a laugh.

Rebecca laughs and you take a sip of your tea as you giggle.

"Where are you from in America?" Rebecca asks.

"I'm from New York." You say with a smile.

"Oh you're from New York City?"

You laugh "No, although it's always really funny to me that everyone assumes you're from NYC when you tell someone who's not from New York that you're from New York. I'm from the suburbs, but the city is only like an hour or so away. Where are you from?"

"I can understand that, I'm from London."

"Oh cool! I'm actually going there on Monday! Where in London? Like near Buckingham Palace?"

Rebecca laughs "No, New York and London are similar in that it seems that people assume when you say you're from there, they automatically think of the city. I live in Richmond, about 45 minutes from Buckingham Palace."

"Ah, I guess New York and London are much more similar than I would have expected."

"Will you be travelling to London by yourself as well?" She asks.

"Yup, we were going to spend five days in Paris and five in London and then head home, although I may extend my stay if I'm really enjoying myself in London, but we'll see."

"Ten days is a long time to be alone." She says.

"Oh it sure is, I was starting to go a little stir crazy which is also one of the reasons I decided to come talk to you. But mostly because you're really beautiful and I knew I was going to kick myself if I didn't at least try to strike up a conversation with you."

You swear you see Rebecca blush a little as she brings her cup to her lips. She looks out the window and back at you.

"This may ridiculous, and please don't feel obligated to say yes, but I was going to take a walk along the Seine, would you like to join me?"

You begin to feel butterflies in your stomach and you immediately try and squash them.

"Yes, absolutely. I would love to."

You finish your drink and your croissant and you both leave the café and head towards the Seine. You make small talk as you walk, Rebecca points out different buildings and structures, talking about their history. You watch her as she talks about what you two walk past, the passion she has in her eyes and the excitement that radiates off of her is precious, even though you barely know each other, you feel a bond already.

"So what have you done so far since you've been here?" She asks.

"Well, I got in really early Wednesday morning so I checked in and just wandered around for most of the day, truthfully I got lost for about three hours and managed to find my way back by some miracle." You both laugh. "And Thursday I went to Versailles and spent the day there and yesterday I walked around the Louvre for the entire day on accident, that place is massive. But I've just been doing touristy things for the most part."

"You haven't been to the Eiffel Tower yet?" She asks.

"Not yet, I mean I've seen it, but I was planning on doing that sometime today, I want to see it sparkle at night. I heard it was beautiful."

"It is very pretty, although I did tell a friend of mine once that the Eiffel Tower was just a lamppost with a publicist."

You laugh out loud "Stop, that's really fucking funny."

The two of you walk around some more, making small talk, laughing, just genuinely enjoying each others company.

After a few hours of walking around you both decide you need a rest. Rebecca says she knows of a good restaurant that's more of a "locals" place where you can get lunch and you two head there.

Rebecca asks for a table for two in what sounds like perfect French, although you genuinely would have no idea if it was perfect or completely butchered, but whatever she said, it sounded great. The waiter brings you to your table and hands you menu's. You both look over the menu's and she translates everything for you. You both decide on what you want to order and the waiter comes back to take your orders. Rebecca orders in perfect French, once again, and you completely butcher the name of the dish you want. The waiter gives you a dirty look and takes the menu's and walks away.

As soon as he's out of ear shot you and Rebecca bust out laughing.

"Holy shit that guy hates me."

"I can't believe he gave you that look!"

"Oh I can, I've been getting that look from everyone since I got here." You say as you laugh.

"Oh no!" Rebecca says as she laughs.

The waiter comes back over with your drinks and you both try your hardest to hold back your laughter, the waiter gives you both that look this time and as soon as he turns his back you both burst out laughing again.

You food comes out and you enjoy your lunch, Rebecca leaves to go to the bathroom when she's finished eating and when she gets back she grabs her bag.

"Ready to go?" She asks you.

"Wait, what about the check?"

"I took care of it."

"Oh my god no you did not!"

The waiter hands Rebecca the receipt and she thanks him in French.

"Dude! You did not have to-"

"I know, but I wanted to treat my new friend to lunch for her first time here in Paris."

"Thank you, but then I'm buying dinner!" You pause for a second and try to save yourself, you don't want her to think she has to be stuck with you all day because you're alone, or make her think you assume she'll go out to dinner with you. "Or something." You quickly add.

Rebecca puts her hand to her chin and thinks for a second.

"Um, nope. I'm buying you dinner also." She says with a smile. "If you would like to have dinner with me as well, that is." She says a little shyly.

"I would love to, but I don't want you to feel like you have to pay for me!" You say as the two of you leave the restaurant.

"I don't, I want to."

"Are you sure? Dinners here can get expensive and I would hate to-"

"Don't worry about that, trust me, it's not a problem." She says with a smile. "So what else were you planning on doing today?"

"I wanted to see the Notre Dame, the Sainte-Chapelle, I'd like to see the arch, your usual first-time in Paris touristy things."

"Well then allow me to be your tour guide."

"Are you sure? I mean don't get me wrong I'd love to keep hanging out with you, but I'd feel so bad if you wasted your whole day chaperoning me around and not get to do whatever you planned on doing today."

"Well actually my plan was to find a pretty girl that was in Paris all alone and give her a tour of the city." She says with a wink and you laugh. "No but truthfully, my plan was to walk around and shop, that's it. I'd much rather do this with you."

"Okay, if you insist. Where to next my lovely tour guide?"

Rebecca spends the rest of the afternoon showing you the city, you see the Norte Dame, the Sainte-Chapelle, and make your way across the city to the arch. You feel like you're spending the day with one of your best friends, not a stranger you just met that morning at a random café you decided to wander in to.

"Do you want to come get a drink with me before dinner?" Rebecca asks.

"Yeah, absolutely." You say with a smile.

"Okay, the bar in the hotel I'm staying at is gorgeous, and I can make reservations at one of my favorite restaurants."

"That sounds perfect. Is there a dress code for the restaurant?"

"Oh good point,"

"I have fancy restaurant clothes in my hostel I can change into."

"You're staying in a hostel?" She asks, surprised.

"Hell yeah, it's actually pretty nice, and it was like dirt cheap."

"Where is it?"

"Close by the Notre Dame!"

"The Notre Dame?! How the hell did you end up all the way by the café this morning?"

"I was looking for a café I went to yesterday but I couldn't find it and got lost, so I just walked into the the first café I found, and it was that one. It's quite serendipitous if you ask me."

Rebecca shakes her head at you and hails a cab and you both get dropped off at your hostel.

"This is it?" She asks.

"Yeah!"

"Okay, it's actually nicer than I thought it was going to be."

"See? I told you!" You tease her. She rolls her eyes at you and you walk inside.

You bring her to your room and she looks horrified when she sees that you're sharing the room with two other people.

"It's not bad, they're a nice German couple."

"You can't stay here."

"What are you talking about?"

"Grab your stuff, stay with me in my hotel, I have a suite with an extra bedroom you're more than welcome to stay in."

"Oh god Rebecca I can't do that I don't want to impose-"

"You aren't and you can, I can't let you stay in this hostel, alone, with two random German people. Come on." She says with a smile as she grabs your bag.

"Are you sure?" You ask as she walks out.

"Yes!" She says, walking down the hall with your luggage.

You check out of the hostel and take a cab to Rebecca's hotel. Your jaw hits the floor when you realize she's staying at the Hôtel Plaza Athénée.

"Rebecca, are you fucking joking?"

"What?"

"The fucking Hôtel Plaza Athénée? This is your hotel? Where you have a suite with two rooms?!"

"Yeah, I stay here in the presidential every time I come to Paris."

You look at her like she's insane. "What the fuck do you do for a living?" You ask as she pulls you into the hotel.

"I run a football club."

"Football? I didn't even think football was popular over here."

"Soccer."

"Oh, right." You laugh. "Ah, gotta love the American ignorance." You joke and the two of you laugh.

You get into her suite and your jaw is on the floor, it's absolutely stunning, it has a full living room, fireplace, two big, gorgeous bedrooms, each with their own master bathroom. Rebecca pulls the curtains open and you see the Eiffel Tower perfectly from the view.

"Holy shit." You say quietly, completely captivated by the view. "This is amazing." You turn and look at her and see her with a smile on her face.

"Isn't it?" She says, gazing out the window.

You both admire the view for a moment and eventually you bring your stuff into your room and get changed. You walk out in a cute cocktail dress, your most comfortable pair of heels, your hair pulled back on one side and a little bit of makeup. You see Rebecca sitting at the little desk on the phone, you assume she's making dinner reservations. She hangs up and looks at you.

"Wow, you look beautiful y/n." She says with a smile.

"Thank you," you say. She stands up and your jaw practically hits the floor. "Jesus Christ," you quietly say. Rebecca is wearing a dark blue dress that hugs every curve on her body perfectly. You figured she had a good shape when you were with her all day, but the jeans, t-shirt and jacket she was wearing hid a lot of it. You never expected her to look like a fucking model.

"What?" She asks a little worried, looking down. "Does this not look good?"

"No, holy shit no, you just look amazing. Like I new you were beautiful, but I didn't know you literally had a perfect hour glass figure, wow." You shake your head to try and snap out of it. "I'm sorry, I'm no better than a man sometimes." You laugh as your cheeks turn pink.

You're worried you offended her, but you look at her and it actually looks like she found it endearing.

"Well thank you, I appreciate the compliment. Ready to go?"

"Yes! Absolutely."

You two head down to the bar and grab a few drinks before dinner. You chat and laugh as you enjoy your drinks. Once you finish, Rebecca pays the bill, against your wishes, and you head to the restaurant.

The restaurant is absolutely stunning, you can tell just by looking at it that it's a 5-star restaurant. You're brought to your seats and given menu's. Just like she did at lunch, Rebecca translates the menu for you and this time you let her order for the both of you in French, you've had enough nasty looks from waiters for one day. Your drinks arrive and you both cheers to new friends.

You're talking about your lives, where you grew up, what your friends are like, just generally getting to know each other.

"How old are you anyway?" She asks.

"I'm 28-"

"Oh my god. I could be your mother." She puts her face in her hands.

"Oh stop it no you can not! How old are you?"

"48." She says quietly.

"Oh shut up there's no way, I don't believe that for a second!"

"I am!"

"You look damn good for your age then, I thought you were like 40, 45 at the very oldest, and like in a 'wow she looks young for 45' way."

"Well thank you." She says as she laughs.

Your food arrives and smells delicious, you both dig in and laugh and chat over dinner. You order more drinks and dessert and when you're finished Rebecca pays the bill and you two head out.

"Okay, now for our last stop of the night." She says, looking at you. "The Eiffel Tower."

She grabs your hand and leads you to it. She buys two tickets and you take the elevator up to the very top. The sun is just setting and you stand by the railing, stunned by the beauty in front of you.

"Woah." You say with wonder in your eyes.

Rebecca stands next to you, both of you taking in the gorgeous view. You both stand there for a few minutes in silence, just enjoying each others company and the gorgeous sunset.

Once the sun sets Rebecca turns to you.

"Come down to one of the lower decks with me."

She grabs your hand and you follow her down a few flights of stairs to a lower level. You stand by the railing and look across the city, a cold breeze passes through causing you to shiver.

"Here," Rebecca says, taking off her scarf and wrapping it around you. "Better?"

"Yes, thank you." Her scarf smells like her, you close your eyes as you inhale the scent, you never though a scent would match a view so well, but for some reason, it just pulls the entire experience all together.

The lights on the tower shut off and you quickly turn around, unsure of what's happening.

"Woah, why did the lights go out?" You ask, looking around to see if anyone else is reacting.

After a few moments they come back on and you realize they're flickering. You look up to the top of the tower where you were earlier and you realize that the tower is sparkling.

Your eyes light up like a child on Christmas day, you stand there in awe as you watch the tower sparkle above you. You look over at Rebecca and see that she's looking at you, looking at the lights. The lights flashing across her face make her eyes glitter, you don't think you've ever seen someone look so beautiful as she does right now. You both look into each others eyes for a moment.

You're not sure how it happened or who made the first move, but in an instant your lips are together. You bring your hands to her face and she holds onto your waist. Her lips are the softest lips you've ever felt in your life, her tongue slides into your mouth and dances around yours. This moment is absolutely perfect and you don't ever want it to end.

What felt like hours later, but in reality was probably only a minute or two, your lips finally part. She gently brushes her lips against yours, you can feel her heart beating quickly as she holds you against her; she can probably feel that yours is racing too.

"Do you want to go back-" she asks quietly.

"Mhm." You mutter as you shake your head yes. Your lips meet once more and after they part you make your way back to the hotel.

You were worried that the moment would pass by the time you got back to the hotel, but the closer you got, the more eager the two of you became.

You get into her suite and you put your bags down, take your jackets off, you remove Rebecca's scarf and she pulls you into her again for another kiss. She kisses you passionately for a minute before leading you into her bedroom.

You both kick off your shoes and Rebecca comes up behind you and places her hands on your hips and kisses your neck. You sigh and lean back into her, tilting your head so she has more access to your neck. Her hands travel up your sides and you feel her move your hair aside and pull down the zipper of your dress. You let it fall to the ground and turn to face her and gesture for her to turn around. You grab the zipper and slide it down, you kiss down her back as the zipper exposes her skin. Her dress falls to the ground and you unclip her bra and you reach behind your back and unclip yours.

She leads you to the bed and pulls you into her, your bodies pressing against each other, your lips interlocked, your fingers tangled in her hair and her hands exploring your body. This might be the most passion you've ever felt in your life.

The night goes by in a blur. You have flashes of memories of you kissing her down her body, the way her skin felt on your lips, you remember the sounds you both made as you panted, the moans that escaped from her lips when you went down on her. How sweet she tasted, what her fingers felt like in your hair as she grabbed hold of you, the way her back arched when you hit that sweet spot deep inside her, how warm and wet she was, the way her skin felt under your fingers as you held onto her hips. The cries she made were the most beautiful sounds you had ever heard as you brought her to her climax and took her over the edge. You remember how her legs gently shook as she came down from her high, that she took a minute just to be able to catch her breath.

You remember the dominance she showed when she flipped you onto your back, how she definitely left marks as her lips traveled down your body. The ticklish sensations when she kissed and nibbled the inside of your thighs, what her tongue felt like when she finally made contact with your dripping center, the way her hair felt between your fingers as you grabbed hold of her. The sounds that you made when her fingers curled deep inside you, the way she felt inside of you, how your hips bucked wildly when she brought you to the edge. You remember seeing stars when you felt her lips wrap around your clit when she pushed you over the edge, the way you cried out her name when she had you ride out your orgasm as long as possible.

You remember her wrapping you in her arms when you were done, how she slowly and passionately kissed you, how your legs felt tangled with hers under the sheets. You remember looking into her gorgeous green eyes, how they reflected the sparkles from the glittering Eiffel Tower out the window. You realized in that moment you've never felt so connected, so bonded, so in love with anyone else in your life. Sure you had just met that morning, but over the course of the day you became closer to her faster than you have with anyone else. You let out a relaxed sigh and closed your eyes when she nuzzled her nose against yours, you felt her chest rise and fall against yours as she drifted off to sleep, you drifting off to sleep with her.

You wake up the next morning convinced that yesterday was just a beautiful dream. As your senses wake up you recognize her scent, you realize that you're still wrapped in each others arms, you try and savor the moment before you open your eyes, anxious that once you do, everything that you both had last night would be gone. You feel her shift in your arms and you open you eyes to meet hers, she has a worry in her eyes that makes your heart hurt a little. You can tell that she's worried about the same thing that you are, you smile and tuck a piece of her golden locks behind her ear, your hand coming to a rest on her cheek, caressing it with your thumb. A smile crosses her face and she brings her lips to yours, you hold onto her as you kiss her with a soft passion. Your lips part and you look into each others eyes for a moment.

"I was so worried I was going to wake up and this was all going to be a dream." You quietly say as you study the details of her face.

"So was I, or that I would wake up to an empty bed, or that I would wake up and you would tell me it was a mistake." She quietly responds as she strokes your hair.

"It certainly was not." You say with a smile as you gently kiss her.

You see a sadness in her eyes when your lips part.

"What's wrong?" You ask, concerned.

"When are you going to London?"

"My flight leaves tomorrow afternoon. Why? When do you go back?"

"Tonight." She says with a sadness in her voice that makes your heart hurt.

"Well, then I'll see you when I get in tomorrow."

"You don't have-"

"No, I want to. I don't want to not ever see you again after you leave tonight."

She looks a little surprised. "Really?"

"Really. I know it's crazy because we've known each other for literally 24 hours, but, I really like you. I haven't felt this close to someone in a long time, I don't want to lose this."

"Even though I'm 20 years your senior?"

"I don't care about that, not even a little bit. It wasn't even something that crossed my mind once."

She pulls you into her and kisses you, a smile left on both of your faces when you part.

"Where were you planning on staying in London?"

"Another hostel." You say with a smile.

"Well, that's not happening. Stay with me." She says as she looks deep into your eyes.

"I would love to."

"I'll have my driver pick you up from the airport and bring you to my house."

"You driver? How much fucking money do you have?!" You say as you laugh.

"A lot." She says with a laugh as she kisses you again.

"Hm, lucky me." You joke between kisses.

Rebecca laughs into the kiss.

You spend the rest of your last day together in Paris in her suite, most of it was spent in bed. You had breakfast and lunch delivered to the room and you both sat in the living room in fluffy robes laughing and cuddling while you ate. You laid in bed together for as long as possible, trying to stretch out every minute before she had to leave to catch her flight. Rebecca extended the room reservation for another night so you could stay. When it finally came time, you helped her pack her things and you got dressed and walked her down to the lobby.

You felt ridiculous for having a lump in your throat as you make your way downstairs, not only will you see her literally tomorrow, you've known her for less than two days. But in those two days you fell completely head over heels in love with her, even though neither of you have said it out loud, you're pretty sure she did too.

The driver puts her bags in the car and she stands in front of you and wraps her arms around you, you wrap your arms around her and you two hold each other for a minute. You look up at her and she meets your gaze, you look into her gorgeous eyes and she leans down and kisses you. When you part you realize her eyes are glassy, yours are too.

"I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?" She asks.

"Yes, absolutely."

"Good." She says as she lets go of you. "I l- I'll see you tomorrow." She catches herself from blurting out the three words you can't wait to be able to say to her.

"I'll see you tomorrow." She turns to get into the car. "Oh shit wait!" You say and she turns back to you.

"What?"

You start laughing and pull out your phone. "I need your number."

Rebecca starts laughing, a few of her tears escape and trickle down her cheeks. "Oh my god." She says grabbing your phone. "I can't believe we didn't do this yet."

She puts her number in your phone and hands it back to you. She kisses you once more and heads to the car.

"I'll see you tomorrow y/n."

"I'll see you tomorrow Rebecca."

She waves as the car pulls away and you watch it until it's out of sight. You look down at your phone and see her phone number and the contact name she put in for herself.

"Rebecca Welton💕"

You send her a text

I can't wait for tomorrow❤

You immediately get a response

Me either💕

You smile down at your phone and hold it close to your chest. You head back into the hotel and your phone starts ringing as you get into the suite. You look down and see that your friend is calling you.

"Hey!"

"YOU'RE ALIVE THANK GOD!"

"Yea, very much alive." You say with a laugh.

"Well I didn't hear from you for over 24 hours and I got worried that you died!"

You open your texts and realize you have 5 missed calls and 20+ text messages from her and a few other people.

"Where the hell were you?!" She asks.

"In heaven."

"Okay, you're gonna have to elaborate."

You tell her about your adventures with Rebecca and give her most of the details, there are definitely some you keep to yourself. You tell her that you're meeting Rebecca in London tomorrow and how excited you were.

"So honestly, it's a good thing you weren't able to come, because if you did, I probably would have never met her." You said.

"Is this the plot of some French rom-com you watched or did you actually just live in a Paris fairytale for the last two days?"

"Fairytale, for sure."

You talk to her for a while and your friend looks her up and freaks out when she reads about who she is.

"No, don't tell me anything, I want her to tell me when she's ready, I don't want to google her to learn about her."

"You're such a sap, but fine. But I will tell you, she's hot, and rich as fuck."

"Oh, I know, she spoiled the shit out of me. Honestly, even if she didn't have all of that money, I'd still be going to see her in London tomorrow."

"Are you in love with her already?"

"I know how fucking crazy this is going to sound, but yeah, I think I am."

You two continue to talk and catch up for the next hour, after you get off of the phone with her you text Rebecca your flight info and you go out to a little restaurant for dinner and walk around for a bit. You get back to the hotel and get ready for bed, impatiently waiting for tomorrow to come.

You phone dings and you roll over in bed and see that you have a text from Rebecca.

12 hours left, I miss you.

You smile and your heart does summersaults, you reply to her.

12 hours too long, I miss you too. I can't wait to see you. Goodnight Rebecca.

You put your phone down and try to fall asleep, excited for tomorrow to come so you can hold Rebecca in your arms again.