#it did have readers who appreciated it at the time

[luvologyy]

PLEASEEEEE DO MORE DAISUKE W/ A MOMMY KINKKK ( also love your fics, some of the best I’ve ever read! <333 )

A/N: OKAY OKAY ANON, and ty 💗

Needy★⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ᡣ𐭩

Daisuke x F reader ⋆ᡣ 𐭩

ᝰ.ᐟ꩜

Tw!: mommy kink, subby daisuke, orgasm deniele, edging, praise, uses of "good boy", bratty daisuke, slight dacryfilia, semi public sex, masturbation, begging. Bad writing ARGHH

Takes place on the tulpar 😉

Reblogs and likes are always appreciated baby💗

MDNI!!

★ everytime you'd him for simple and easy favors, daisuke would give you a bitchy attitude.

★ Maybe it was the stress from working around the ship. Maybe it was from Swansea, always correcting everything he did. Whatever the case was, it was no excuse for him to act like a spoiled brat.

★ like one time you two were in the medical room, filling cabinets with supplies.

"Daisuke, baby, can you pass me that bottle of disinfectant?"

"You have 2 legs, don't ya? Go get it yourself." He scoffed, grabbing bottles and shoving them in the cabinet aggressively.

OOOUU, you were not gonna let that slide or let him do that to you.

★ hours later, when everyone was sound asleep in their rooms, you and daisuke found yourselves on the couch in the lounge room.

★ His whimpers filled your ears as he threw his head back against the couch pillow

★ “M-mommy pleasee..” he begged wanting to finally cum, you’d been denying him the sweet release for who knows how long. "Jus wanna cum.. please m-mama.."

★ "oh, you wanna cum so bad, dont you baby?" You Chuckled softly, leaning in placing wet sloppy kisses along his neck before quickening your movements, the gushy wet stroking his cock, his whines and moans echoing loudly through the lounge.

★ daisukes eyes rolled back in ecstacy, his fingers digging into the couch as he thrusted his hips up into your hand “Gon-gonna cu-m..! m-mommy” "ffuckkk, mmmh..!"

★ Quickly you managed to pull your hand away hands, denying him of his orgasm once again, tears streamed down his beautiful face as his cock twitched, his tip puffy with precum.

★ “oh my poor baby.. ” you cooed moving back ontop of him, “Naughty boys do not get to cum, you know that” you leaned over to kiss him, your tongues exploring every inch in your mouth, muffling his moans and cries.

★ He whimpered thrusting his hips up wanting your hand wrapped around his member. “I..I’m sorry mommy.. please, i’ll be good-i’ll be your good boy..”

★ "aww, is that so? You're gonna be a good boy? You're gonna be a good little slut for mommy?" You asked teasingly, rubbing his sensitive tip, slippery with precum.

★ "Beg for it." You said before stroking his cock, this time at a faster pace then before. Daisukes breathing becomes heavier by the second, and whinier.

★ "p-please please mommy let me cum..! I wanna cum sso badd.. I'll be a good slut for mommy please!.." He begged, tears streaming down his pretty face. His moans and whimpers become louder and louder.

★ daisuke felt his orgasm get closer and closer with each stroke, his pleads becoming more loud and needy. "Ffuckk mommy I'm gonna cum, please can I cum for you please??.."

★ Your hand picks up speed, moving in a jerky way as you stroked faster and faster. "Cum for me. Cum for mommy baby."

★ Daisuke eyes rolled back from his sweet release, loud moans echoing through the lounge. His cum flooding his tip and all over your hand.

A/n: SORRY guys, I got lazy at the end. Sorry if it's sloppy

[to6ge]

—THINGS THEY DO ON YOUR PERIOD !

౨ৎ batboys x f!reader ( seperated , excl Bruce ) ౨ৎ wc . 454 ౨ৎ cw . non proofread, none. ౨ৎ gwen's note . its 2:57 am but I feel motivated to write so I decided to do a quick drabble ^^ also so sorry to the tim stans I didn't really know what to write for him...

Richard knows quite a lot about periods since he had a lot of experience with women. He would constantly check up on you and ask you if you needed anything. He’s very reliable. You could ask him to run to the nearest convenience store to buy you some pads, and just like that— he's returning with the pads AND ice cream, chocolate or anything that he knows you crave for frequently. He is also very persistent for you to drink painkillers or medicine if you have cramps.

He would always be there when you need him, and always willing to do anything.

Poor baby is quite confused— but Jason's trying. He tries his best not to get frustrated with you when you start complaining about something, or being overly dramatic. ( however, in some cases, he thinks that you're cute when you complain, whine or overreact. ). If you asked him to buy you pads, he would probably buy the wrong size, but he tries his best. He lowkey feels extremely guilty if he did something to upset you by the slightest bit when you're in the time of your month. Whenever he sees you in pain— he completely crumbles. He doesn't know what to do, or what to say. So he just rushes you to a couch, bed, anywhere you could rest in and forces you to drink medicine.

Not only that, but he forces you to rest until you feel okay. Even if you still need to cook for dinner, or anything like that. 

You didn’t even need to ask for anything. Tim noticed the signs before you did—the way you craved certain snacks, the slight change in your mood, the way you held your stomach. Discreetly, he stocked up on pads, your favorite snacks, and anything else he thought you might need, even grabbing a heating pad just in case.

When you told him, “I’m on my period,” his face would light up immediately. With the proudest smile, he handed you a bag of everything he prepared previously. “Here, I bought these for you.”

If Jason was confused, then Damian was absolutely clueless. He’s the type of person who completely forgot that women have period. Unfortunately, he’s very unreliable but he tries. If it was the first time you had your period in your relationship with him, he’d be all over the place. “What's your..uh……size?” He’d text you when you asked him to buy pads for you. He’s worried, but he doesn't know how to express it properly. But eventually, he started remembering the things you wanted— like the snacks you frequently asked for, the sizes you wanted according to the days, whether you wanted the pads with wings or not. 

reblogs and likes are appreciated. thank u luvlies for reading ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

[rafedarling]

𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝

pairing: husband!rafe cameron x wife!reader

summary: rafe cameron was your everything, your husband, the man who once promised to love and cherish you unconditionally. despite your inability to speak, rafe always treated you as though the world revolved around you. but your perfect life comes crashing down on an ordinary monday when you…

warning(s): reader in this fic are mute, so if you felt uncomfortable please click back, will see you on jan 9. infidelity, emotional distress, angst.

must read: italic mean sign language.

au: like, reblog and feedback are much appreciated. i don’t know but this idea came up after i went to the toilet ��� i’m tagging no one since i’m writing this for fun and might deleted if i felt it’s needs to be remove and hope you enjoy!! 🌟 . taglist | ask

Just like any other Monday. You were sitting on the edge of your bed you reached for your phone to check the time. That’s when you saw it… a text message from an unknown number.

You hesitated, your thumb hovering over the notification. You weren’t one to invade someone’s privacy, even Rafe’s, but something about this felt… off. When you finally opened it, your entire world shattered.

The message began with ‘Hi, I’m Sofia. I didn’t want to do this, but I think you deserve to know.’

You froze, dread pooling in your stomach as you continued reading. Sofia laid everything out; dates, times, even explicit details. She wasn’t apologetic; her tone carried the confidence of someone who knew she had already won.

Sofia wasn’t just anyone.

She was the friend Rafe had introduced you to months ago, the one he’d reassured you was “just a friend.” She was gorgeous, effortlessly confident, and everything you weren’t.

Most painfully, she could speak.

The betrayal hit you like a tidal wave. You stared at your phone, your breath hitching your so tight you couldn’t even breath.

You wanted to scream, cry, or yell so badly but you couldn’t. That had always been your curse your inability to voice your pain.

Instead, you stormed downstairs, gripping your phone tightly. Rafe sat at the kitchen table, scrolling through his phone while sipping coffee, completely unaware of the storm brewing inside you.

When he saw you, his face lit up.

“Morning, babe,” he said casually, his tone warm and easy.

You didn’t respond. Instead, you slammed your phone onto the table, the screen still displaying Sofia’s message. His eyes flicked to the text, and the color drained from his face.

“What”

He reached for the phone, but you yanked it away, glaring at him as your hands began to move.

“Who is Sofia? And don’t you dare lie to me.”

Rafe’s jaw tightened. “Babe, it’s not”

“Don’t!” you signed sharply, your movements quick and angry.

“Do not call me that right now. Answer the question. Who is Sofia?”

He opened his mouth, then closed it again, his hand raking through his hair.

“She’s… She’s no one. She doesn’t mean anything.”

So you admit it happened.

“I—” He faltered, his eyes pleading.

“It was a mistake, okay? A stupid mistake. It didn’t mean anything.”

You stepped back, shaking your head as tears burned your eyes.

“How could you?” you signed, your movements slower now, weighed down by heartbreak.

“I trusted you. I loved you. Was that a mistake too?”

“No!”

Rafe’s voice cracked, and he took a step toward you, his hands reaching out as if to ground you.

“It wasn’t a mistake. You weren’t a mistake. I swear. You’re my everything.”

“Clearly not,” you signed, bitterness dripping from your fingers. If I was, you wouldn’t have done this.

He pressed his palms against his temples, exhaling shakily.

“I don’t know why I did it,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I was stupid, I was feeling… I don’t know, lonely?”

“Lonely?” Your hands froze mid-motion, your eyes wide with disbelief.

“You think I don’t feel lonely? I live in silence, Rafe. Every day. And yet I stayed. I fought for us. But you…” You stopped, your chest heaving as fresh tears slid down your cheeks.

“I know,” he said, his voice breaking.

“I know, and I hate myself for it. You don’t deserve this. You don’t deserve any of it.”

“Then why wasn’t I enough?” you signed, your movements trembling.

“What does she have that I don’t?”

Rafe looked devastated, his hands dropping to his sides.

“Nothing,” he said firmly.

“She doesn’t have anything you don’t. You’re everything to me.”

“Clearly not enough for you to keep your promises.”

He stepped closer, his voice urgent. “Please, don’t leave.”

You stared at him, your heart breaking into a million pieces. The Rafe standing before you now was a shadow of the man you thought you knew, and yet, his desperation was tangible. Part of you wanted to believe him, to cling to the love you’d shared for so long. But the pain was too raw, the betrayal too fresh.

You wiped your tears, turning toward the door.

“Wait,” Rafe called, his voice shaking as he followed you.

“Where are you going?”

You paused, turning to meet his tear-filled eyes. Your hands moved slowly, deliberately, as you signed one final word

“Away.”

“Don’t,” he begged, his voice breaking.

“Please, give me one last chance, I’ll spend the rest of my life proving to you how sorry I am.”

You didn’t respond. Instead, you opened the door and stepped out of the door, leaving Rafe behind.

But this time, love wasn’t enough.

And for the first time in years, the silence between you felt unbearable.

[starcrescentisz]

── STRESS RELIEF.

໒꒰ྀི ^ ⸝⸝ ^ ꒱ྀིა박성훈 x fem! reader content established relationship non-idol au college/university au ᥫ᭡ warning explicit sexual content unprotected sex (stay safe!) petnames used kissing pussy eating fingering begging sunghoon being a tease and wear glasses (need this man so bad). . .!? 1445 — mlist.

note. first post has to be dedicated to the man who got me into enha... ever since i saw that one tiktok edit of 240201 sunghoon, it was over for me... anyways, hopefully this is readable as i'm awkward when it comes to writing smut. like+reblog+comments are appreciated! feedbacks are also appreciated!

Ever since you stumbled upon your boyfriend wearing a pair of thinly-framed glasses, you couldn’t get the sight out of your mind. As far as you were aware, it has been three weeks and it was still imprinted in your head, not having any intention of leaving you alone. You groaned, running a hand through your hair in a poor attempt of calming yourself but it was futile. The words reflected on the screen of your laptop don't make sense anymore, not when you’ve been on the same page for the past hour.

“(Name), darling, you need to take a break.” 

You looked up to see Sunghoon had entered your room. He was dressed comfortably; a white long-sleeved shirt with a pair of black sweatpants. And of course, he was wearing glasses that perfectly rested on the bridge of his nose. The sight of the accessory was enough to make you gulped. He chuckled at your silence and how you were shamelessly ogling him. He steps closer, stopping until he is before you. 

“What’s in your mind, pretty girl?” He asks, reaching out to gently cup your face with his hands. Your eyelids fluttered shut at the contact and you couldn’t help but leaned into his touch, shoulders sagging slightly. 

“Nothing, I’m just stressed,” you replied, savoring the way Sunghoon caressed your face with his thumbs. 

“Poor thing, do you want me to help?” He asks. 

You shook your head. “No, I can manage—” 

“Oh, I’m not talking about your work,” he interrupts, mischief seeping into his voice. You gulped when you recognized the familiar glint in his eyes and that was the only warning you got. 

Your lips were captured in a fiery kiss and you gasped, feeling yourself being pushed back until your back was uncomfortably digging into the edge of the table. Sunghoon had to lean down to kiss you, making him strain his back but he didn’t care. Nothing is important when it comes to pleasuring you. Without breaking the kiss, Sunghoon carried you in his arms, moving you to the bed where he gently laid you down on the mattress. The feeling of being in your boyfriend’s arms made you feel safe and protected; a feeling you had came to cherish. 

You made a noise of protest when he pulled away. You raised your head, desperate for his lips but Sunghoon moved, leaning his head back. 

“Hoonie, why?” You whined. 

He coos, leaning in to press a kiss on your forehead. “Sorry sweetheart, but I’m helping you to relieve your stress. So just sit back and let me do the work, alright?” 

Huffing, you obeyed and moved to lay in a comfortable position. You watched with bated breath as Sunghoon shifted down, spreading your legs apart. He easily pulled down the pair of shorts you were wearing, tossing them to the floor, leaving you in your panties. Your ears turned red when you realized you were soaked. Of course, this didn’t go unnoticed by Sunghoon, who arched an eyebrow. 

“Did you get turned on just from kissing? Or is it something else?” He grins knowingly, fingers tracing the hem of your panties before he slid it down, leaving you completely bare underneath him. No matter how many times you’ve done this, he couldn’t get enough of how stunning you looked. 

“I don’t know what you’re implying,” you replied, your face turning as red as a tomato with how he maintained eye contact, with the glasses still on as he teasingly ran his fingers along your clit, collecting your essence. 

“Really? But I’ve a feeling you know perfectly well what I’m talking about,” he hums, wasting no time in sliding two fingers in, groaning at the delirious feeling of your tight, warm walls instantly clenching down on the sudden intrusion. 

“Sunghoon—” You moaned, one hand gripping onto the sheets while the other gripped onto the pillow for dear life. You attempted to rock your hips against his fingers but he held you down, restricting you from moving. 

“P-Please, don’t tease,” you whimpered, looking at your boyfriend with half-lidded eyes. 

Being the tease he is, Sunghoon smirks. It was unfair with how attractive he looked at that moment. “Please what, baby?” 

“Please touch me,” you pleaded, and the smirk stretched wider. 

“But I am touching you. You need to be more specific,” he replied, moving his fingers in a scissor-like motion as he slowly open you, preparing you for what’s to come. Sunghoon wasted no time in finding your weak spot and he ruthlessly abused it, reducing you to a moaning and squirming mess. 

“N-No, want your mouth on me—fuck!” You gasped, eyes nearly rolling to the back of your head when Sunghoon leaned down, running his tongue along your folds, followed by kitten licks. You let out a high-pitched moan at the double penetration; fingers and tongue. It was too much for you to handle and you could feel the familiar tightening of your stomach, a sign you were about to reach your climax, and then—

“What the fuck?” You raised your head, shooting your boyfriend the meanest glare you could muster. 

Sunghoon laughs, amused with your reaction. “Don’t worry, I’ll fuck you and you won’t be looking at me like that anymore.” 

He wasted no time in shredding his clothes, shifting to his knees as he still remained in between your legs. You tightened your grip on the pillow, biting down on your bottom lip at the familiar feeling of him pushing himself into you. You whined, getting drunk on the feeling of being split apart despite how you’ve had sex multiple times. When he was completely in, Sunghoon started at a languid pace, although he changed his mind when he heard the melodic sounds dripping from your lips. 

Blood rushed to your face as the bed rocked along with your movement. The room was filled with the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin. You were sure your neighbours will file a noise complaint tomorrow but that was the least of your concerns now. You arch your back off the bed when Sunghoon’s lips latched onto your neck, leaving butterfly kisses and hickeys behind. 

“Fuck, how are you always so tight?” He groans, lips grazing against your neck as he feels the way your walls spasm and contract at every rock of his hips. You whined at the cold frames of his glasses touching your warm skin.

“Hoonie, please, please,” you begged. 

“What does my pretty girl want?” He asks, moving his head away so he could admire your face. 

“G-Gonna cum, please,” you sobbed, hoping he would show some mercy. 

“Is that so? Could you keep your eyes on me when you cum, sweetheart?” He asks, and you eagerly nodded; wanting to please your boyfriend. 

It took your remaining strength to keep your eyes open. You pulled him down to kiss him, your tongues meeting in a passionate dance that only lovers would know. You panted against his lips as you reached your climax and Sunghoon was quick to follow suit. Both of you groaned at the feeling of him releasing in you. You laid in a pool of your sweat and other body fluids while your boyfriend slowly pulled out of you, eliciting a hiss at the sudden empty feeling. 

He got off the bed, heading to the bathroom to grab some clean towels to wipe you and him off. You were pliant, too exhausted to move an inch as Sunghoon cleaned you off. When he was done, he threw the now dirtied towels into the laundry basket with great accuracy. He grabbed a new set of clothes—his clothes, to be exact and assisted you in putting them on. Sunghoon had to move you away from the bed to get rid of the sheets, much to your annoyance but you knew he was doing this so he wouldn’t get scolded by you tomorrow morning. 

Once he was done replacing the sheets and pulled on a pair of sweatpants, both of you were finally able to cuddle together. You rested your head on his chest while Sunghoon drew circles on your arms. 

“By the way, I know you find it attractive whenever I wear glasses,” he commented. 

Your closed eyes snapped open as you turned to him at lightning speed. “What?” 

Sunghoon laughs, poking your nose. “What? Did you think I wouldn’t notice how often you kept staring at me? You’re not being subtle, especially with the way you stare at me.” 

“And how do I stare at you?” 

He grins, pulling you closer so he could kiss your lips. “Like you want me to fuck you.” 

“Sunghoon!”

[no-144444]

prison, not a promise- l.norris

summary: lando proposes and it doesn't go as planned...

pairing: lando norris x fem! reader

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

He genuinely thought you would’ve been the woman he married. He believed that the moment he got down on one knee, you would’ve burst into tears in front of him and said yes. 

He’d never expected that. 

People (understandably) thought you were fucking crazy. Who would say no to Lando Norris? Who would give up the chance to be rich and famous forever, to have one of the most sought-after men on the planet forever? 

Well, those people didn’t know what it meant to be ‘loved’ by Lando Norris. They didn’t see the constant fights and beratings. They wouldn’t know about the fact that you hadn’t felt like yourself for an entire year. They didn’t know about the sleepless nights, sitting there and wondering, hoping that you were enough. They didn’t know that an engagement ring would've been a prison, not a promise. 

You both walked into his apartment, silent. You hadn’t said ‘no’, saying ‘yes’ while in public just to keep up appearances,  but Lando knew, the second you two got in the car, you weren't happy. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, wrapping his arms around your waist. You allowed yourself to lean into him one last time, be his one last time. That was the Lando you fell for. The one that hugged and kissed you like no one else would ever matter to him, the one that looked at you like you held up the stars just for him. You never expected the honeymoon stage to last forever, but these fights weren’t normal. He ripped apart your character, your appearance, anything, just to make you feel as upset as him. You\’d been together for 4 years, and the problems started when he became Max’s rival.

“Lando, we’re not happy,” you started, feeling his hands drop from your waist. You turned around to face him. “At least, I’m not. I do everything you ask of me. I cook and clean, I dress up nice, I follow you around the fucking world and I gave up my dreams so that you could always have me at races. Now, all we do is fight. I’m fucking sick of it, alright? I’m tired of the fact that you either don’t love me anymore, or you don’t respect me, and I’d like to thank you for the 3 wonderful years we had before this year, and give you back your ring. You deserve someone less ambitious. You deserve someone paper-cut to be a WAG, Lando. I’m not that girl,” you sighed tearily. “When you find her, I suggest you tell her that you can be mean, you can be selfish, and you can be forgetful, but the trade for that is the sweetest man on the planet once the anger wears off. I’ve been around angry men my entire life, and I will not marry one. I’ll grab my things tomorrow. Goodbye Lando,” you brushed back at him, placing the golden engagement ring in his hand as you passed him by. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

You left Monaco with all of your belongings, and went back home. You bought an apartment, and started your new job as a college professor. Before Lando you had been the best mathematician in the world. You had offers from every college from every college, but you chose the one closest to home. You didn’t think about Lando for months. You focused all of you attention on your students, all of your life was spent around numbers. You were finally happy. For the first time in a long time, you felt appreciated, you felt beautiful, and you felt happy. 

“Y/n,” the British accent you knew so well made you physically cringe. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“Is it a mathematical problem?” you asked, not turning around as you sorted through papers. 

“Not really?” he chuckled. “Please just look at me.”

You slowly turned around and looked at him. He looked like shit. 

“I won,” he smiled, but it wasn’t a real smile. “I’m the Champion of the World.”

You held out your hand to shake his. “Congratulations.”

He took it with a frown. “I’m quitting F1.”

You stopped in your tracks when you heard that. “Why?”

“I did something really fucking stupid two years ago, and i need to make it right,” he admitted. “Y/n, I’m sorry. There’s no one else for me. You’re it. You’re my person, you make me feel so alive, so happy, so free, and I couldn’t even imagine what life would be like without you. Then I lived it. And it sucked. I know I’m an asshole, and I know you’re probably much better off without me, but I’m begging you, just let me back in your life, please? I’m falling apart without you baby.”

You stared at him. “Lando, I’m not asking you to stop racing because of me-”

“I did,” he smiled. 

“I’m not taking you back,” you insisted. “You made me feel like a shell of my actual self for a year, and I held on because I knew you needed a punching bag so that you wouldn’t take it out on the people around you. I don’t miss you. I don’t love you. I don’t want to see you.”

His face fell and he was quiet for a moment. “So I’ve really fucked it up?”

“Yeah, now get the fuck out of my lab.”

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅ A few months went by and the 2026 season started, and Landow as still on the grid, shocker. You didn’t care, he was a fucking asshole who didn’t deserve your time or companionship. You hoped he would choke every race start (which he did), get outperformed by Oscar (which he did), and loose to the WDC to Oscar (which he did). Karma.

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

navigation for my blog :)

mclaren masterlist

[narrycherries]

ivy: how’s one to know..

(enemies to lovers) harry is just an ass and (Y/n) is just a stranger

masterlist // ivy series (link coming w part 2)

word count: 8.6k

warnings/tags: enemies to lovers, harry x reader, fem reader, angst

[before you start: I wrote the female character with a description (blonde, blue eyes, short, thicker build) but of course feel free to change the descriptors to whatever you prefer!]

The holiday season had wrapped up a handful of days ago and things were slowly starting to go back to normal. The sparkling strings of lights decorating neighborhoods and businesses all around the city were being taken down and shoved back in their storage boxes until the last month of the year circled around again. The weather was staying consistent, though. The gloomy overcast skies and chilly wind that whipped through the streets were enough to keep people bundled up and wishing for spring to arrive.

Most people she knew enjoyed the holidays a lot more than she did. Sure, she loved to see the colorful lights lining roofs and windows of boutiques and restaurants along the main strip. There was something so juvenile, so innocent about the giddy feeling that would fill her stomach as she saw a pile of fake presents and a decorated tree in a shop window. Somewhere deep down inside of her heart, she still had that spark that a child would have.

When she was growing up, she sought happiness during the holidays by admiring other people’s outdoor decorations or gazing in awe at the displays put up in her schools. She didn’t have what most people had that she went to school with, but she tried to be grateful, even as a young chlid, and appreciate what surrounded her.

A strong sadness was building in her chest as she slid the ceramic Santa Claus into his box to pack him away with the other Christmas decorations. She thought about the many years she questioned if Santa was real. There were so many nights when she’d squeeze her eyes shut and whisper out loud, her knees on the floor as she put her elbows into the mattress. There was so much hope in her. She believed that if she wished and prayed and dreamed enough, Santa would leave a present or two on the coffee table next to her dad’s stained coffee mug. There wasn’t a tree most of the years of her childhood, but her dad give gift her things (there was no magical Santa though). There were no twinkling lights outside of her window, hanging down from the roof with a clumsy droop. There were no ornaments to place on the branches of a fake tree, lined with a dusty skirt that would be covered with presents. There were no fresh baked cookies and steaming hot chocolate topped with marshmallows. The television never displayed joyful Christmas movies and specials. The radio on the kitchen counter never once sang a tune of a wintery song about snow and ice. No, none of that. It was just her dad, her brother, and herself for a while.

“Did you keep the box for this guy?” Emma’s curious voice snapped her from her trance.

She cleared her throat and looked up from her spot on the living room rug. Her ‘new’ roommate was holding a ceramic snowman who’s decorated style matched the Santa she just put away. She reached into the plastic storage container and grabbed the box, passing it up to Emma.

“Here you go.”

“Thanks, (Y/n).” She smiled back, noticing that there was a glimmer of disappoint on her face, but she didn’t mention it to her. “You didn’t have to put everything away so fast. I would’ve been fine with it for a few more weeks.”

Emma had just moved in before Christmas. Her things were half way unpacked throughout the small house they now shared.

“I didn’t want it to crowd you. Besides, Christmas is over.” (Y/n)’s tone was partially rough as she began to pack away the miniature houses placed across the console table that the television hung above.

“I’m so excited to actually be here, like, full time. Niall’s a bit upset.. but I told him he’d survive.” She said with a laugh as she started to collect the small figurines that went with the village.

“I’m excited, too. I’m glad you’re actually up for decorating the space and not just.. letting me do it all. My last roommate was not particularly outgoing.” (Y/n) snickered at the thought, knowing she wouldn’t be missing that person at all. The girl was nice and all, but she was quite boring.

“Oh, totally! I’ve already got some stuff I want to show you in my room. Maybe we could put it out here or something.”

“I’m fine with anything as long as it’s cute.” She shot her friend a grin.

Emma wasn’t a new friend by any means. They met early on while they were both at university. Emma was actually her first partner for a project in one of their biology classes. They met on the third day of class and became friends very quickly. Their chemistry went far beyond the confines of the science lab. Emma was joyful and adventurous and offered (Y/n) that motivating spark to actually go out and have fun. Not that (Y/n) couldn’t match Emma’s energy once her veins were filled with alcohol, she just didn’t go out as much.

“Speaking of Niall, I haven’t seen him a while. How’s he doing?”

A proud smile crept to Emma’s lips. “He’s been good. But he’s been super busy with the store.. almost never get to spend time during the actual day with him.”

“But it’s going well, the store, I mean? Like he’s having success?”

Emma nodded. “It’s been great. I told him it would do good around here, especially with the college students. And besides, people are always looking for music lessons. I’m glad he took my advice and decided to offer those through the business.”

Niall was an excellent musician, or so (Y/n) has been told. She hadn’t actually seen him play anything in person, only through recordings and videos Emma had shown her. She knew Niall was talented, though. He played the guitar and the bass, both of which seemed entirely too complicated in (Y/n)’s mind. When they started dating last year, Niall was in the midst of finalizing a business plan and opening his music store. Emma told her all about it, including her fears and anxiety about the situation - but only because she was afraid Niall would get so caught up in the store that he would abandon their relationship. Niall ended up not doing that, obviously, and was able to balance everything in his life. He and Emma would be celebrating their one year anniversary on Valentine’s Day - which (Y/n) thought was particularly sweet and romantic.

“I’m glad everything’s working out.”

The store opened back in the summer, and (Y/n) had only gone by once to see the place. It was in a part of town she didn’t frequent very often, so the opportunity to casually stroll in was rare. It wasn’t like it was Emma’s store. While she did know Niall well enough to refer to him as a friend, she wasn’t close with him. She was supportive, of course, but not overly involved.

“He’s coming by later to help me put together the dresser. Well.. he’s going to do it for me, not help me.” She snickered as she joined (Y/n) on the floor to start gently laying the mini figurines in a small cardboard box they knew as home.

“I can make dinner if you’d like. Niall likes that pasta I make, right?”

“Yeah! He actually asked me about that a few weeks ago. He said I have to get your recipe.” She grinned back, rolling her eyes at the thought of her boyfriend’s obsession with food.

“He’s only had it like twice.. but it’s flattering to know I’m such a good chef.” (Y/n) laughed under her breath. “I’ll give you the recipe.”

The rest of the afternoon was spent on putting away the last of the decorations and moving them into the hallway closet. The box fit perfectly in the bottom of the closet. Emma disappeared into her room to continue unboxing her belongings. (Y/n) was mostly occupied with dusting the wood furniture and wiping down the kitchen. She liked a neat, tidy home and she was very glad to know that Emma did as well. She checked the cabinets to make sure she had the ingredients required for the pasta she’ll be making later on.

Every now and then, she’d hear a crash of something hitting the floor come from the hallway, presumably from Emma’s room. She would just giggle to herself as Emma’s dramatic cries of curses and sighs would fill the small home. Despite being friends for a handful of years, they had never lived in the same space before. Even while at university when it was mandatory for them to live on campus, they lived in different dorm buildings. Emma was in a sorority and definitely more comfortable with herself than (Y/n) was. She kept to her small dorm with her roommate, whom she didn’t have anything in common with but she was kind to her. If she were being honest, she thought Emma would try to move in with Niall once her old lease had expired. But, Niall was comfortable where he was in his apartment and he already had a roommate. As much as Emma wanted to live with him, it was just too soon anyway. They tossed around the idea, but (Y/n) mentioned to her that perhaps she needed to wait, just in case. Niall wasn’t upset with Emma’s decision to move elsewhere, as long as she was in the city close to him. (Y/n) was also informed that Niall’s roommate wasn’t too keen on letting someone else share their space. She had never met him before, didn’t even know his name, but she couldn’t blame them. She wouldn’t want her house to be permanently crowded either. Niall let Emma stay over there a lot, though, but spending the night for the weekend or on a random weekday when it was too late to drive back home was different than staying full time. And of course, Niall was allowed over whenever he wanted and she made that clear to Emma before she signed the lease. As long as he respected their home and didn’t leave a mess behind, he was welcomed.

A gentle sigh slipped past her thick lips as she trailed back to the living room. The open concept of the front of the home meant the living room was attached to the kitchen with no barrier other than the island. She sat down on the end of the couch, the damp kitchen towel she used to wipe down the furniture sat on the side table. She picked it up, along with the framed photo that was next to the pretty gold lamp. The gold of the frame didn’t quite match the lamp, but it was still beautiful to her. The ornate metal that decorated the frame was cold as she carefully rubbed the pads of her fingers over it. She stared at the photograph locked behind the glass, the speed of her heart beating increased only slightly.

The image was of her and her mother when she was around three years old. It was Halloween, she was dressed in a pink dress that was modeled after Princess Aurora, and her hair was curled and a little makeup playfully swept over her features. Her mother was dressed in a Cinderella themed costume, her matching golden blonde hair curled, too, and pinned up. It wasn’t the last holiday they spent together, but it was one of the only ones (Y/n) remembered. She doubted herself at times about the memory - she was only three and a half, did she actually remember it or was she imagining it? Despite always doubting herself, she knew too well that the memory was burned into her brain. She can remember the smell of the burning iron as her mom curled her hair. She remembers getting tickled by the fluffy makeup brush as a bit was applied to her face just to add to the illusion. She remembers the taste of the mini chocolate bar her mom unwrapped for her in the car in between neighborhoods - the night was full of trick or treating and giggles and squeals. She even remembered the way her mom’s hand carefully adjusted her curls when they got caught in the zip of (Y/n)’s costume. It was a memory she held dear to her heart, one she prayed she’d never lose. (Y/n) had always tried her hardest to find things to fill in the void of not having her mother around. But no matter how determined she was, nothing ever seemed to be enough. She found joy in little things, like collecting whatnots and trinkets that reminded her of the ones that littered her house when her mom was alive. She enjoyed searching for squirrels and birds in the park, collecting odd looking rocks during her walks, listening to her favorite songs on repeat, and a plethora of other things. But nothing could really fill the space in her heart.. It was quite a big space, after all.

That evening, after the sun nestled below the horizon and stars littered the dark winter sky, Emma invited Niall over for dinner. It was third day of actually staying here, since she opted to spend two weeks with Niall for Christmas between her parent’s place and his. (Y/n) was working on preparing the ingridents for the pasta when Niall knocked and was let in with a grinning Emma planting a kiss to his mouth. He laughed and brushed her off, not a big fan of showing affection in front of other people, even though he knew (Y/n) wasn’t watching.

“Hey, long time no see!” Niall said with a smile as he followed Emma into the kitchen.

(Y/n)’s eyes glanced over her shoulder. “Hi, Niall. It’s been a while, yeah?”

“I think you guys haven’t seen each other since the day we moved my crap in.” Emma said with a slight unsure tone.

“Your crap that still isn’t unpacked.” Niall sighed as he leaned against the counter, his arms crossing on his chest.

(Y/n) chuckled to herself as Emma began to give him excuses for why her things weren’t put away and in their new spots yet. The list included things like being busy with work, having errands to run, and of course ‘spending all my time with you’ that made Niall smack his lips and give her a sarcastic ‘okay, sure’.

They kept up their banter for a bit while (Y/n) rinsed her hands at the sink. She had finished everything she needed to do before actually cooking the food. When she turned towards them, Niall was peering his eyes into the pot of boiling water, frowning as he saw it was empty.

“She’s making the pasta you said you like.” Emma said as she grabbed his forearm to tug him away from the oven.

“Oh, really? That stuff was so good.” Niall’s eyes shot to (Y/n)’s. “I want a whole pot of it for my birthday, please and thanks.”

She shook her head in disbelief as a laugh rolled out of her mouth. “Isn’t your birthday in September?”

He shrugged. “Yeah, just don’t want ya to forget.”

“C’mon, let's start with the dresser, Niall. Let (Y/n) cook.” Emma said after checking the time on her phone. “We’ll clean up the kitchen after dinner, okay? Don’t worry about it!”

“Alright, that’s fine. I’ll let you know when it's done.”

And just like that, she was alone in the kitchen again. It didn’t bother her to be alone, she had been for most of her life, especially her late teenage and adult years. Finding something to occupy her bored mind was not a new task for her to learn. She opted for sitting at the small dining table after setting the timer on the oven in case she forgot to check the time.

(Y/n) pulled her phone from the pocket of her sweatpants and started to maneuver through the notifications that had come through since she last checked. One was a message from a random company that was offering a sale this coming weekend, there were two texts from Niall - the first asking if he needed to bring anything, the second saying Emma told him not to and to just ignore the text - the rest were random notifications from different apps.

Her attention went to her photo app as she scrolled to a few days ago, just a day or so after the New Year began. She went for a walk in the park close by one day during lunch when she had nothing else to do. She snapped a few photos of little random things, like a wild flower that had somehow managed to survive the low temperature, a bird that was perched on top of the black metal fence that lined the park, and a snapshot of the sky with the clouds parting in such a way that made it look like heaven. After having lost so much in life, she learned and forced herself to appreciate the little things that were around. Details of daily life, like the fall of a leaf to the ground or the chirp of a bird in a tree, were almost therapeutic for her.

Dinner didn’t take too long to cook, but the dresser was seeming to take much longer than Emma had expected it to. When (Y/n) knocked on the bedroom door and stuck her head in, she grinned as she saw Niall sitting on the floor with his head thrown back and Emma pacing the room with her fingers pinching the bridge of her nose. Her once neatly fixed dark hair was messily tied in a bun on the back of her head. The instruction booklet for the dresser was laid out in between Niall’s legs, along with a torn bag of hardwear.

“Food’s ready.” She said with a singsong voice that made Niall pop his head up.

“Finally.” He quickly rose to his feet and grabbed Emma’s wrist, tugging her behind him as they followed (Y/n) down the hall and towards the kitchen.

“Eat as much as you want, I made plenty.” She said as she let them make a bowl first.

“Don’t have to tell him twice.” Emma’s mouth shaped to a smile as Niall practically pushed her aside to be first.

“Guests eat first, right?” He joked as he gave them both a quick glance, a smirk on his face as he grabbed the serving utensil.

Once the three of them had fixed what they wanted and claimed a spot at the table, (Y/n) offered to grab everyone something to drink. Emma and herself chose a glass of ice water while Niall requested a Coke. Emma had just brought home a box this morning after her quick run to the grocery store. The food appeared to be a big hit as Niall scarfed it down, spitting out compliments and satisfied hums that made the girls giggle and roll their eyes jokingly at him.

“Em told me the store is doing great.”

Niall nodded as he sipped his drink. “Yeah, it’s been good, actually. I’m glad.”

“I’m glad you do the lessons. I told her that people are coming in pretty much all day long.” Emma said.

“Yeah, if it’s not someone who’s into music already or just curiously out shopping.. The sign about the lessons really brings people in. And even if they don’t go through with it, they end up looking around and finding something.” Niall told them with a pleased smile, he was relieved his business was staying crowded and people actually enjoyed coming to the store.

“Did you end up finding someone to teach the guitar lessons? I know Emma said something about you were looking for someone else, since you got so busy with your bookings.”

“Yeah, my roommate actually. He’s decent at guitar and he’s just working with the beginners. I’m sticking to the people who sorta know how to play around that just wanna get better.”

(Y/n) nodded as she took another bite. “That’s good.”

The cooking had made the kitchen a bit warmer than it was before, so she pushed her sleeves up to her elbows. The exposure of the small tattoo on the inside of (Y/n)’s elbow caught Emma’s eye.

“Oh!” She chirped suddenly, making Niall flinch. “I forgot to tell you, (Y/n), I’m getting a tattoo in a few weeks. Already got my appointment.”

“Oh, really? Where at this time?” (Y/n) asked with genuine curiosity.

“On my foot. Just a cute little flower. Niall says it's going to hurt.”

(Y/n) squinted her eyes and pursed her lips. “You don’t have any, do you?”

Niall chuckled. “No, but I’ve been told the foot is terrible.”

“I’m not a baby, Niall. It’s not my first one. Besides, Zayn said it would be fine since I’m used to the feeling.”

“Zayn is lying to you to spare your feelings and get your money. He is my friend, I think I'd know when he lies.” Niall was only teasing her, but it brought a flush to Emma’s cheeks.

“Shut up.” She mumbled through a pout.

(Y/n) was amused by their interaction, but she chose to move on with the conversation so Emma wouldn’t get too sensitive. She wasn’t over emotional or anything, but sometimes she would get embarrassed if Niall playfully taunted her in front of other people.

“Zayn.. is that the guy I met that time at the bar?” (Y/n) couldn’t remember the person’s name, but she was sort of sure that it was the same person they’re referring to.

Niall nodded to her. “Yeah. The one with all the tattoos.. I would say the one with the black hair but right now it’s platinum blonde.” The lift of Niall’s brows made her think that maybe he didn’t approve of the look, but he had no choice but to accept it.

“I thought that was the same guy. I’m pretty sure he told me he owned a shop.”

“He’s the best around.” Emma said with a laugh. “Plus.. he gives me a discount.”

“You’re welcome for that.” Niall puckered his lips and leaned her direction, demanding a kiss that he knew he wouldn’t get.

“Hush.” She pushed her fingers to his mouth and gently shoved his head back.

He laughed at her reaction. “Just saying, Em. He’s my friend.. like I said before.”

Emma ignored him and turned her eyes to (Y/n). “Anyway, Niall can’t come with me.. so I was going to see if you wanted to go.”

“I can see if I can.. just let me know the date and time.”

“Alright. I will. Niall, don’t be a pig.” She groaned as she saw he had slipped from the table and was at the stove, piling his bowl full again.

“Let him eat it. That way we won’t have to worry about leftovers.”

Emma shook her head. “He’d eat the actual house if you’d let him.”

—•—

(Y/n) was puckering her lips in the mirror of the car visor as she applied her lip balm. It was chilly outside and the weather wasn’t being kind to her skin at all. She huffed as she saw the patch of dry skin right in the middle of her forehead. She had just applied her moisturizer before they loaded in the car to drive to the tattoo shop. Emma was driving, and every now and then she’d glance (Y/n)’s way and notice she was still staring in the mirror.

“What’s the matter?” She finally asked as (Y/n) slid the cover over the mirror and flipped the visor up, her back hitting the seat as she felt defeated.

“My skin is horrible right now.” She rolled her eyes to herself, upset that it was bothering her this much. It was just a bit of dry skin and chapped lips, she shouldn’t be so affected by it.. but she was. “Even my lips are dying.”

Emma smiled. “I’m sure lots of people are struggling right now. I’ve got a dry spot on my cheek. It’s been there for a few days. Just the weather.”

“But it's annoying. Y’know my hormones are whacky sometimes.. feel like as soon as I get it under control, I break out or have something like this happen.”

“When we get home, we can look up some different products. Maybe we can find something better for seasonal dryness. My cream isn’t working either.”

(Y/n) shrugged and took out her phone to mindlessly look through one of her social media apps. “Yeah, we can do that.”

Even though the shop wasn’t too far from where they lived, Emma didn’t want to walk in the cold and she didn’t want to have to cover the tattoo with thick, tight shoes afterwards. So, (Y/n) agreed to drive back after they left, and after they grabbed some food. The shop was right around the corner, and it caught (Y/n)’s attention as they turned onto the street. It was just off the main road of the downtown area. The street was lined with different restaurants, stores, thrifting spots, boutiques, and a few law firm offices and an emergency clinic that stayed open during the weekend. She was familiar with the area, and had actually looked towards the tattoo shop’s sign plenty of times. They pulled into a spot and Emma took in a deep breath before pulling the keys out.

“Are you nervous?” (Y/n) said with an amused grin plastered over her lips as she opened the car door.

“What if Niall’s right? What if it hurts real bad?”

“You’ll be fine. You got one on your ribs and your spine. You can take it.”

Emma was still nervous as she followed (Y/n) to the door. She grabbed the handle and pulled the door open, allowing Emma to slip into the building first. It was warm in the small lobby of the tattoo shop. She was unfamiliar with the specific shop, but not the reality of one. It looked like the others she had been to and the place she got her tattoos done at. The walls were dark grey and decorated with interesting pieces of artwork and posters. There were rock band posters, most of which she recognized, on the wall behind the dark wood desk that acted as a check in counter. Nobody was at the counter, though. There was a small sleek, black leather couch pressed against the side wall, above it hung a large canvas with what appeared to be an original artwork painted on to it. She saw the signature in the lower left corner and smiled as she read over the name she had heard Niall use a few weeks ago during dinner. So this Zayn character was more than just a tattoo artist? She was intrigued by the brush work on the canvas, the beauty of the image was breathtaking. The muted colors stood out oddly bold against the stark white and midnight black areas. It was nothing like she had ever seen before. Although she didn’t partake in any form of art herself, she was an admirer. She enjoyed frequenting art galleries and museums and contributing to artists as much as she could. She once got a commissioned painting of a bouquet of flowers from an older woman in the area who was a somewhat known artist. The piece lives on the wall near the hall closet.

“Zayn?” Emma called out suddenly as she grew impatient with standing in the middle of the lobby.

(Y/n) sighed to herself as Emma disappeared through a door. It lead to the main tattoo room, with three different stations placed in it. The back room was Zayn’s private room that his clients were able to be secluded in. Emma knocked on that closed door and waited patiently. A few moments later, Zayn opened the door with a smile, happy to see her.

“Hi, Em.” He said, his accent thick as it rang through the small building.

(Y/n) heard them chatting, so she decided to peek through the door, a nervous smile on her face. Zayn’s eyes caught hers as he towered over Emma. He offered a friendly wave and gestured for her to join them. She nervously stepped over the threshold and swallowed gently.

“Zayn, do you remember (Y/n)? You guys met a while back.” Emma said with a gesture of her hand as (Y/n) approached them.

Immediately, she recognized his features - from his dark eyes to his nearly fully inked arms. His tattooed sleeves wrapped over his shoulders, around his neck, crept over each wrist and wiggled around his fingers. He was covered, to say the least. She could only presume the rest of him looked like that. Colorful tattoos mixed with jet black ones littered his skin. And she noticed, of course, that his hair was blond now like Niall had mentioned.

“I think so, yeah. You’re the chick Niall said could outdrink me, right?” Zayn asked with a laugh.

“I don’t drink that much.. but yeah, that’s me.”

Emma gave her a nudge of her elbow. “She can out drink anyone when she actually lets loose.”

Her eyes rolled as a smile toyed on her lips, still slick from the lip balm. “Yeah yeah.”

“Let me get my chair cleaned off and you ladies can come back here.” Zayn said just as he grabbed the knob to his private room.

They heard something hit the floor and then a shuffle of shoes moving against the tile. Emma furrowed her brows and gave Zayn a curious look.

“Someone in there?”

“Yeah, I just finished a piece.”

He opened the door and went inside, shutting it behind him again. (Y/n) turned towards Emma and gave her a smile, unsure of what to do next. Emma grabbed her hand and nodded towards the open lobby door.

“We can wait in here.”

They returned to the lobby, where (Y/n) was easily distracted by the art on the walls again. There was a print of a skull near the door. It had flowers pouring over the crown of it, which then melted to puddles as they hit the imaginary ground. She thought it was interesting and quite cool. From what she could tell about Zayn’s vibe, it fit it well. The music playing from the speakers in the ceiling was loud enough to be heard but not too invasive. She could tell it was a curated playlist going, because the song that just begun seemed to be sung by the same person as the one before.

“Zayn just texted me.. he said we can come back.”

“I thought someone was-“ (Y/n) stopped speaking the second a body appeared in the doorway. “Oh.”

“Hey, Harry.” Emma said with a friendly tone as she stood up, motioning for (Y/n) to follow her.

“Hey, Emma.” The stranger replied with a quick lift of one corner of his mouth.

(Y/n) was slightly confused because it obviously appeared that the two knew each other. She had never heard Emma refer to anyone by the name of Harry, at least not that she could recall. She licked her lips and let her eyes fall down his tall, broad frame.

“What did you get?” Emma asked with her usual curious voice.

(Y/n) was listening, but she wasn’t paying that much attention. She couldn’t help but be taken aback by the appearance of the person in front of them. He was tall, much taller than Niall but probably close to Zayn’s height. He looked like a sky scraper standing in front of Emma and herself, both of which were shorter than average. His long, dark hair shaped into curls that were messily laying on his shoulders. He suddenly swept his hand through his roots the second she realized he had such long hair. The motion caused the lights above them to ricochet off the rings covering his fingers.

“This.” He said as he extended his right arm to them, well mainly to Emma.

There was a freshly inked snake curling around his forearm, each scale placed perfectly on his tanned skin. There were remenents of blood speckled across his skin, and a deep redness that hazed over the entire tattoo.

“Wow! That’s so good.” Emma beamed at the delicate work.

“Yeah, took two sessions. Zayn got a bit tired last time.” He smirked gently at the girl he knew, completely ignoring the one he didn’t.

“Well, it was cool seeing you! Are you headed home?”

He shook his head. “Gonna sit here for a while. I’ve got to be at the store in an hour to help Niall.”

She checked the time. “Yeah, he said he was the only one closing tonight.”

“Emma?” Zayn called from the back room, his head looking around the doorframe searching for her.

“Coming!” She hollered back, taking one last look at Harry’s freshly inked arm. “It was good seeing you. If you leave before I get out of here, I’ll see you later.”

(Y/n) didn’t even realize she was tracing her eyes over his body. His arms were like tree trunks, muscles taut under his skin and veins popping out, rolling around as he moved. His legs were tightly wrapped in a pair of dark jeans, she could tell through the fabric that they were toned as well. It wasn’t until he suddenly walked past her, not even sparing her a glance, that she realized she had been standing frozen.

Emma started towards the back room, (Y/n) in two as she felt an embarrassed blush cover her cheeks. She didn’t know this Harry guy, but she hoped she wasn’t staring too hard at him. It definitely wasnt polite to just stare at a stranger, especially when she was blanking out. What if she was making a face at him? Something nasty, or something rude looking? She was unsure, but chose to ignore it. He didn’t seem bothered by anything as he took a spot on the couch.

Zayn’s office was just as she expected it to be. It was a deep shade of green, the walls coated in framed prints and a few smaller canvases of what she figured was his work. There was a small accent chair placed in the corner for guests. She sat down and started darting her eyes around the room. The type of work that Zayn had pinned to a board on the back wall caught her eye. He seemed to be good at everything, but most of it was bold color work or extremely detailed realism, sort of like the snake she saw on Harry’s arm moments ago. She wondered if Zayn had given himself any of his own tattoos or if he went to someone else. Surely, not every place on his body was accessible by his own hands, but maybe some of them were done by him. She felt like an amateur compared to him. She had a few tattoos placed on her body, but nothing quite as big or detailed as what she saw on the board or on Zayn’s skin.

“(Y/n) is your new house mate, right?” Zayn asked Emma as she got comfortable on the chair.

“Yeah. I moved in before Christmas.”

“But.. you’ve known each other for a while, right? I can’t exactly remember.”

Emma nodded. “Yeah, since we were in college together.”

“Zayn.. do you mind if I look through this?” (Y/n) asked politely as she picked up the small binder off the console table next to the chair. A few figurines of characters she recognized, an hour glass with black sand, and a plant lived on the table as well.

“Of course not, that’s why it’s there.” He gave her a chuckle, but kept his response nice.

She opened the book and started to slowly flick through the pages. She saw his signature on the bottom of the designs. They were all so perfect. Some were executed with such detail and precision that she could've sworn they were fake, others were more loose drawn in a free handed style or just more whimsical in nature. She saw a sketch of a few bees on one of the pages. They were in black and grey, mostly realistic with subtle, soft shading and delicate lines. The drawing was pretty and neat. She glanced to the corner, searching for his signature, but she didn’t find it. Instead, in the corner opposite of where Zayn favored to sign his name was a small H. She hummed to herself, curious to know why Zayn had someone else’s drawing in his book. She quickly shook the thought out and reminded herself that there three other stations in the front. They were not abandoned by any means, she could tell people worked at them based on the different things displayed and the personal trinkets and objects adnoring the areas. Maybe this was one of his college’s work or maybe it was random.

For the most part, the book was filled with things Zayn did. Some of them were his own creations while others were common tattoo designs just drawn by his own hand instead of being pulled from the internet. She liked the way he had a bunch of his own things offered in styles that were more popular. He appeared to be a well versed artist with the talent to create just about anything.

As Zayn prepped Emma’s skin for her tattoo, he was talking to her about Niall’s store. He asked how it was going and if she had heard any horror stories yet of Niall messing up payroll or forgetting to stock an item. She only laughed and said she was surprised he was staying so calm and organized. Everything about the store was going more than according to plan, as at least as much as (Y/n) could tell from what she’s heard. She was still so happy for Niall. His hobby had turned into a passion and a business and he was able to share it with others, it was like a dream come true she bet.

“Alright, are y’ready?” Zayn said with a deep breath of his own as Emma grew more and more nervous in the chair.

“I think so.”

“You’ll do fine, Em.” (Y/n) encouraged from the corner, her eyes now focused on her friend.

“Just take some deep breaths. Tell me if it’s too much.” Zayn told her as he pulled the stencil paper off her foot. The flower wasn’t that big, but there were lots of tiny details that Zayn knew would probably hurt her more than anything else she’s gotten. “Just a tattoo.”

“If I cry, you can’t tell Niall. I told him I could handle this.” Emma mumbled out with a frown as she stared at her foot.

Zayn smiled and leaned back, the gun still buzzing in his hand. “Before I start, is it in the spot you want?”

“What do you think? Is it good?” She asked him, twisting her foot to a different pose.

“It’s not my foot, love.”

She groaned and looked over towards (Y/n). “Can you check?”

(Y/n) laughed a little but nodded as she stood up. Just as she was about to step towards them, Emma called for someone else to take a peek at the design.

“Harry? Are you still in there?” Her voice echoed through the room, she hoped that it spilled into the lobby so he could hear her. After a few seconds, she grunted and pulled her phone out to shoot him a text. “I’m so nervous.”

“It looks fine to me.. but it’s your decision.” Zayn told her with a gentle sigh.

(Y/n) looked down at the placement of the tattoo, her arms behind her back with her hands locked. “Yeah, it’s cute.”

She gave Emma a hopeful smile before turning around. The door opened just as she moved her body, the stranger that wasn’t a stranger to anyone but her, walked in the room, chuckling as he saw Emma fanning her face, the heat swelling her skin with sweat and her eyes with tears - she was nervous.

“You always do this.” Zayn couldn’t resist laughing as Harry walked to them.

(Y/n) was back in her seat now, her eyes fixed on her phone as she waited for Emma to decide her fate. She could hear snickers coming from Zayn and Harry as they talked about the tattoo and Emma’s apparent hesitation that always came out when she was in Zayn’s chair.

“It’s fine, Emma.” Harry said, giving her a smile before looking to Zayn. “Make sure it hurts.”

“Harry, shut up!” Emma groaned and tried to kick at him. He laughed and took a step back. “You guys are bullies.”

“You’ll be alright, Em. It’s not like it's your first.” Zayn reminded her.

She shrugged, crossing her arms over her chest. “Whatever. Go ahead, then. Thanks, Harry.”

“Welcome.” He said lightly before disappearing out of the door again.

(Y/n) wondered why he didn’t stay in the room with them. Was he not interesting in hearing the painful grunts Emma would sure be letting out soon or watching Zayn draw his design perfected for Emma into her skin? Maybe he was tired of being near the tattoo gun since he spent however long getting his own. She pushed the thought aside entirely the moment she heard Emma groan, curses falling form her lips but not directly towards anyone.

Zayn leaned over her foot, his fingers pulling her skin tight as he worked the needle into it. It didn’t look like it was much fun, and (Y/n) became grateful that she had no intention of ever inking anything onto her foot.

—•—

There was a freshness in the air as she looked around Niall’s music store. It smelt like freshly picked lemons, probably because he had just sprayed down the counter before she came in following behind Emma. Niall was in one of his usual band tees and a pair of jeans as he sat on a stool with a guitar resting on his thigh. He was talking with a customer, comparing the similarities of two different guitar brands. Emma found herself busy with the items on the checkout counter - dropping loose pens back into their cup and adjusting the pile of papers Niall had pushed to the side.

(Y/n) stayed curious as she looked around the store. It was very easy to get caught up in the different items, especially since she had little to no idea what some of the accessories were for. Niall provided more than just items for guitars. She didn’t try to decipher every thing on the shelves, just simply moved her eyes across the packages, curiosity settling in her instead of blurting out questions to Niall. The girls came by to bring him some lunch before they did some grocery shopping for the week. Niall was appreciative, but he was unable to entertainment right away.

Emma smiled as the customer approached the counter, the one Niall had been chatting with. She stepped aside and let Niall take over the register. He had another employee here, but he was in the back room looking for a specific thing they needed to restock on one of the shelves. (Y/n) waited near by as Niall scanned the guitar music book the customer wanted to get and told him that he’d see him when he returned for the guitar - the customer hadn’t made his decision just yet.

When it was just the three of them at the counter, a few customers were lingering around the store just browsing, Niall gave them both a warm smile before wrapping his arms around Emma for a quick hug.

“Thanks for lunch. I’ll eat it when Josh gets off his break.” He said with a sigh, folding his arms and leaning them on the counter.

“The store is so nice, Niall.” (Y/n) complimented as she glanced around.

“Thanks.”

Emma walked from behind the counter to where (Y/n) was standing. She was about to ask her something about their plans for the day when her eyes fell on the few pieces of paper taped to the front edge of the counter. One was the refund policy, one was about the instrument lessons, and the other was new since the last time she was here.

“Oh, a flyer? That’s unusual.” Emma suddenly said as she pressed her finger against the pink dyed paper. “For the show?”

“The show?’’ (Y/n) asked with a drop of her brows as she read over the words printed in bold black letters.

“Yeah, Niall’s band. They play at a bar across town every couple of weeks.” Emma told her.

(Y/n) remembered as soon as she heard it. Emma had told her before, long ago when she first started dating Niall, that he was in a cover band. It wasn’t anything serious, not trying to search for record deals or gain stardom, it was just him and his friends having a good time. They got decent money for it, including tips from audiences, and it allowed them to play the instruments each member enjoyed. She wasn’t sure who was in the band as Emma never got to that detail before.

“Oh, right.” She nodded as the memory returned to her brain. “That’s cool.”

“Can’t believe Emma’s never brought you to a show.” Niall said with a somewhat surprised expression.

“I invited her a few times but she’s usually busy with work stuff.” Emma defended herself, even though there was no issue with it.

(Y/n) smiled at her and shrugged. “I remember you asking a couple times.”

“Well, you’re more than welcome to attend if you’d like.” Niall offered as he pushed himself off the counter the moment the bell jingled above the entrance door.

He went to greet the customer, someone he actually was used to seeing come in the store, leaving the girls alone again.

“Yeah, it would be fun if you came! You could finally meet Alyssa. She’s usually just home with her and Zayn’s kid.. she doesn’t go out much anymore, but she loves the shows.” Emma exclaimed with a sparkle in her eye.

“I dunno.. when is it?” She asked, glancing at the flyer.

“Next Saturday night. It would be cool, (Y/n)! We haven’t went out since Halloween.”

The stress building up at work during the holidays definitely set her back from enjoying a lot of things, including several invitations from Emma to join her and Niall at a bar or go out for dinner with just the two of them. It truly felt like forever since she got to have fun with her friend. She thought about it for a moment, but only lifted her shoulder at the idea. The mention of meeting Zayn’s fiancé was intriguing since she had heard so much about her from Emma, but she doubted that would be enough to pull her out for the night.

“Maybe.. depends on how the week goes.”

Emma gave her a partial smile. “Okay. I really hope you can go with me.”

“Yeah, you should definitely come, (Y/n).” Niall said as he appeared next to them, the customer gone to look for the item they asked him about.

Once again, she let out a small sigh and faked a smile for them. “I said I’ll see how the week goes, but no promises.”

He gave her a fake, dramatic frown. “C’mon! Live a little!”

“I live a lot.. at work.”

Emma grabbed her elbow and gave it a squeeze. “I’ll convince you before the week ends.”

“M’sure you will, Em.”

After spending a few more minutes talking to Niall, and then waiting in the car as he and Emma disappeared into his office to say a private goodbye, (Y/n) was ready to get the grocery shopping over with. The store they frequented was near by, so the drive was short and easy. It wasn’t close to their shared house, but the prices were better than anywhere else. Emma offered to take her car, so that left (Y/n) in the passenger seat with her eyes glued to whatever passed by the window.

“Are you okay, (Y/n)?” Emma asked as they strolled through the fruit section in search for the items on their list.

She gulped gently, distracting herself by collecting a few apples for the cart. “M’fine, just tired.”

Emma watched as she walked towards the basket of lemons and grabbed two, she’d need them for a receipe she was going to try later in the week. (Y/n) was normally not this quiet. She enjoyed the task of grabbing their groceries and checking things off their combined list while Emma pushed the cart and double checked everything. Something about doing such a mundane thing made her feel content and comfortable, even if they decided randomly to try a new store they’d never been in. But today was different, Emma was growing concerned with her unusually quiet friend.

“If you’re irritated with me and Niall pushing you about the show.. I’m sorry. You don’t have to go.” Emma said with a soft frown as (Y/n) returned to the cart with a handful of bananas.

She sat them down and lifted her hesitant gaze to meet her closest friend’s. “I’m fine, Emma. Just tired.”

She shook her head gently. “No, you’re too quiet. What’s wrong?”

“You and Niall didn’t bother me, I swear. The bar thing is.. whatever. I’ll think about it, I promise. It’s just.. one of those days.”

Emma wasn’t believing it all the way. Sure, maybe (Y/n) was being truthful about the role her and Niall played in her newfound mood, or didn’t play - but something else was up. She licked her lips and decided to stay quiet as (Y/n) busied herself with grabbing the rest of the fruits before moving onto the fresh vegetables.

Although she didn’t want to press it any further, Emma couldn’t stop thinking about what could’ve happened at the music shop or on the way to the grocery store. Her worry was growing quickly and it wasn’t very long before she was asking another question.

“(Y/n), please tell me. Are you alright?”

She received a sigh as a response, a couple of tomatoes and a bag of baby carrots joined the cart. “Emma, please.. I’m fine.”

“Something is wrong with you. I don’t want to see you so down.”

(Y/n) walked towards the next section of the store, knowing that Emma would follow her with the cart no matter if they were talking or not. She held her breath as she thought about what was bothering her. She was too caught up with her racing mind to realize she was actually expressing her emotions on the outside. Emma noticed everything, so clearly she wasn't doing well at hiding it. There was no real issue, really, nothing that anyone caused by saying or doing anything. A lump slid down her throat, Emma was her friend - there was no need to keep anything from her.

Just as they turned down the aisle where the bread was, she stopped in her tracks and turned towards the cart, her hand reaching out to stop it. Emma froze, a lift of her brows offering confidence like a good friend should.

“The guy that walked through the door right before we left.. at Niall’s store..” She started with a strong voice, but it slowly faded to almost a whisper.

Emma nodded, encouraging her to continue. She looked down to the floor as the moment replayed in her memory. It wasn’t an unusual thing for her to experience, in fact it was more common than not. One little thing, one random glance from a passerby, one glimpse of someone with a similar shade of hair as her own, one note from a list of songs she knew were special..

“He reminded me of my brother. I.. I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Her response made Emma’s stomach turn to knots. She knew that the conversation was over then, and there wasn’t anything else she could try that would break (Y/n). The forbidden topic had been brought up, and quickly dropped back to the vault she kept it locked away in. Emma didn’t mention it again..

[a/n: this is a series! It’s a lot longer per part than my other stuff so I hope you enjoy! This is just the intro so it will be more interesting and exciting as it goes on! reblog, like, do all that lovely stuff!!]

taglist: (notified for all // if you want to join a taglist for this series, lmk in a comment or message and I’ll start one)

@walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @victoriasigaard @ariiscringe @harlowsgirl @lomllover @haniaaa04 @sideboobrry11 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @fangirl509east @fruity-harry @sassamanda77 @lizsogolden

[natashashill]

my girl’s a brat

pairing: agnes o’connor x reader

word count: 2.2k

warnings: 18+ filthy smut, use of ‘daddy’, degradation, spanking, face riding (a receiving), pussy eating (r receiving), strap (r receiving and sucking). lmk if i missed anything!

a/n: omg okay! so here we are. nonnie i hope you enjoyed this req it was certainly fun to write

summary: based off this req

Today was just not your day. Maybe you did just wake up on the wrong side of the bed. However, Agnes did not seem to care in the slightest. You had pouted for weeks for her to spend more time with you, and so she finally took the day off of work to be with you.

If there’s one thing Agnes can’t tolerate, it’s your bratty behavior. She’ll have you over her knee pleading in seconds if you misbehave. However, she was feeling rather generous considering today was supposed to be special for the both of you.

It was a near battle to even get you out of bed, which had already tested Agnes’ patience to no end.

Strike one.

You decided to make things worse for yourself by forgoing your panties for the day and slipped on a skirt.

Strike two.

The car ride went smoothly, and your brunch date started off perfectly well. Until your waitress came around, and decided to flirt with your girlfriend. She started twirling her stupid blonde hair while talking to your girlfriend about who-even-knows but you were fuming.

“We’re not ready to order yet so you can leave. My girlfriend and I will call you when we’re ready,” you bit out harshly making eye contact with your waitress who seemed to forget you were even there. She had the decency to look slightly sheepish and scrambled off, while Agnes simply glared at you.

Strike 2 and a half. She let it slide.

You looked at her grumpily before focusing your attention on the menu, suddenly nothing was appealing to you.

“Daddy can we go? Nothing looks good here and I don’t want to stay anymore.”

Agnes gave you a glare before responding.

“Baby, I booked us a reservation a week in advance. This is one of my favorite places. I don’t know what’s gotten into you today but if you’re not going to order, I’ll order for you. Cut it out, I want you on your best behavior.”

That should’ve been your warning. Your sign to just shut up and appreciate what she was doing for you, but you didn’t take it. You merely huffed at her while doing the bare minimum to go through the rest of this brunch.

By the time the bill came along, Agnes had half a mind to drag you into the bathroom and spank your ass red. She settled for letting you enjoy the movie she had gotten tickets for before dealing with you at home.

Her hand rested on your thigh throughout your car ride and you seemingly softened. Your mood improved slightly as you headed into the theater. That was rather short lived when you noticed when you realized she got tickets for some action movie. You let out a small whine, but she shot you a harsh glare that shut you down immediately.

She was kind enough to let you get some snacks and an icee, but that didn’t stop you from continuing to piss her off during the movie. You wouldn’t stop whispering in her ear during the movie, ate her popcorn instead of the snacks she bought you, and kept complaining in her ear about how bored you are.

Strike three.

The car ride home was tense and you knew you had messed up.

You let out a small plea but she wasn’t having it. She brought her hand to your core but when she found your bare pussy instead of your panties, she had lost any control she had over her patience.

“When we go home you will go straight to the bedroom. Take off all your clothes neatly, and place them in the corner of the bed. I want you to go find a pair of panties and set them in front of you and kneel. You will wait silently for me to come up.”

You only nodded, not sure if saying anything would only make things worse. As you both arrived home, you quickly scrambled upstairs to do as she said. However, you didn’t. You didn’t neatly fold your clothes, they were scattered in random corners of the room. You didn’t wait kneeling for her with panties in front of you, you let yourself onto the bed and spread your legs so that she could see your eager pussy the moment she walked in.

Agnes does not take lightly to brats. She prefers obedience and will not hesitate to punish you. When she walks in, her eyes darken at the sight of you bare in bed, but she makes no effort to join you. You can feel her anger radiating off her in waves and you can’t help but smirk at how easily you can get under her skin.

“Y/N you have five seconds to get off the bed before you don’t come for a month.”

You quickly scramble off the bed, not willing to call her bluff. You stay standing by the bed unsure of what to do next.

“Crawl to me slut.”

You let out a small moan at that before tilting your head down and crawling.

“Oh don’t get shy on me now. You were so bold all day slut, don’t tell me suddenly you can’t even look me in the eyes anymore.”

You resume crawling towards her as you look eyes and you can feel your pussy getting wetter by the second. You feel the humiliation from the way she watches you fully clothed, a stark contrast to just how naked you are. As you reach her feet, you sit back to kneel, and she lets out an appreciative hum at that.

She went to unzip her pants and you knew immediately what she wanted you to do. The strap sprung out of her pants and you were ready to suck her off but she yanked you back by the hair just before you reached it.

“You think you can just suck me off after what you pulled? You desperate whore. I want you to beg for it. Beg for permission to suck me off. Don’t even think of using your hands either, you don’t get to touch me after what you pulled today.”

“Daddy please.”

“You can do better than that.”

“Daddy please. I need your cock so badly. Daddy I want to suck your cock please. Please, I need you so badly. I’ll be good for you.”

She let out a harsh laugh at that before dragging you back towards her cock. She gave you a solid five seconds to prepare before fucking your mouth. She fucked her cock against your mouth and you could feel her in the back of your throat. Suddenly, she pulled out and just waited. You leaned forward to take her down your throat, but you could barely make it halfway by yourself.

“Pathetic slut. What kind of cockwhore can’t even take my cock down their throat without my help.”

She pushes you off her cock and you fall back on your knees, waiting silently for her next instructions. She orders you to bend over against the bed while she disappears into her closet. When she reappears with a paddle, you know you’ve fucked up.

“How many do you think my slut deserves? I think 30 after all the stunts you’ve pulled.”

Your eyes go wide and you start to plead immediately. “Daddy please. That’s too much, I’m sorry please.”

She looks at you for a second, almost as if she’s considering your words.

“What’s your safe word?”

“Purple.”

“Do not question me again for the evening. You’ve been a disobedient brat all day and this is your punishment. You will take what I give you without any complaints. If you need to stop, say your safe word, otherwise do not speak. You let out a small nod before turning back and preparing for your fate.

“Count while I spank you, and thank me for each one.”

One. Thank you daddy.

Two. Thank you daddy.

Three. Thank you daddy.

Eight. Thank you daddy.

At 15, you started to feel floaty.

At 20, she spanked you so hard you let out a yelp before thanking her.

25,26,27,28,29,30 came down in a rapid succession that made your head swirl.

Agnes put the paddle down before gently caressing your reddening cheeks. She knew you were in subspace now and had to proceed delicately if she wanted to finish what she started. She turned you over gently after placing a gentle kiss to your cheek, but a whine still escaped when your bruised cheeks made contact with the bed. She gently rubbed your thighs making them spread apart.

“How are you feeling baby girl?”

“ ‘M okay daddy. I need you so badly.”

At your gentle words, Agnes takes a lick across your dripping pussy, tongue flattening against your folds. You let out a deep moan, and it only encourages her. She lets you buck your hips up against her, practically riding her face. She licks another stripe up your core before swirling her tongue around your clit. Your fingers curl into the bed’s sheets and Agnes lifts your thighs up to give herself better access to your pussy. She continues her attack on your pussy, messily eating you out as her tongue licks, flattens, and swirls. Right as she worked you up to the edge, she pulled away. A cry escaped you, and she gave you a quick slap against your core for it.

“Hush slut. You’re mine to use for today. You can come tomorrow if you behave. Now be a good toy for daddy and let me fuck your cunt.”

She rubs the tip of her cock against your folds, eliciting moans from you that Agnes needs to hear again. She enters you in one thrust, and gives you a brief second to adjust before thrusting hard into you.

You can feel her cock deep inside you and it only makes you more aroused. You start to clench around her and she knows you’re about to cum. You think she might let you but she pulls out right before you reach your peak, your pussy throbbing at how desperate you are to come. You let out a pitiful whine, but she merely ignores you. Taking off the harness and rather climbing up your body.

“Daddy needs to come baby. You think you can use your slutty mouth to get me off?”

You let out an eager moan as her cunt appears above your face and you quickly latch on to her clit. You know how she likes to be eaten out, spending many afternoons under her desk at the station. She needed stress relief and you were more than willing to let her use you.

You let yourself get carried away in your fantasies, your tongue having a mind of its own as it harshly swirls and presses on her clit. You can feel her pulsing and growing wetter by the second when suddenly her orgasm crashes over you, soaking your chin with her juices. You eagerly lap at her pussy until she can’t take the overstimulation anymore and pulls you away from her core.

She rubs the back of her knuckles against your cheek, smiling at the way you lean into her hand. She places a gentle kiss on your lips and whispers gentle praises. She lets you settle for a few minutes, wrapping you in a delicate hug and letting you rest against her chest. When she notices your eyes starting to drop, she leans away and goes to move off the bed.

“Follow me angel. Let’s get you cleaned up and ready for bed.”

You reluctantly make your way off the bed and over to her, where she greets you with another hug as she turns on the water for you at just the right temperature. When the water fills at just the right amount, she stands up before turning to you.

“Baby, go rest in the bath for me. I’ll return shortly but I need to go and clean up the mess and I’ll come with some snacks for you until dinner.”

You let out a small pout but let her go, letting the warm water soothe your aching body. She comes back sooner than you anticipated and bringings a fluffy towel for you, signaling the end of your bath. You let her pamper you, not even a single complaint when she insists on rubbing the special lotion on your red cheeks. You enjoy the feeling of warmth surrounding her, and let out a content sigh when you both are tucked safely in bed as she gets you to drink some water.

This time, she doesn’t fight you when you show the tell-tale signs of sleepiness. She lets you rest before dinner and a follow-up reward for how good you were during your punishment. As you softly snore against her, she can’t help but think how lucky she is to have you, even if her baby is brat, occasionally.

notes: two posts yipee!! as always please send reqs and ill get to them asap

[keehomania]

bad religion — rcm (18+)

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ smut, angst, minors dni, sexually explicit content below the cut, bartender!reader, unrequited love, slowburn, crashout!rafe, nobody understands him like i do, reader lowkey has bob the builder mentality, no religious themes despite the title, dirty talk, gun play, alcohol consumption, drug usage, if it brings me to my knees, it’s a bad religion; this unrequited love

it started off as a way to pay off your student loans—tuition, housing, supplies. the minute you enrolled, you had picked up the job. it was supposed to be temporary, just until you found a better solution, but time had a way of slipping through your fingers. years later, you were still standing behind the counter, wiping spills, pouring drinks, and serving customers whose names you rarely bothered to learn. the debt was gone, long since paid off, but you hadn’t managed to leave. you told yourself it was because the money was decent, but deep down, you knew the truth: you didn’t know where else to go.

the roadside had become something of a second home to you, though a noisy, sticky one. you liked the rhythm of it, the way the nights started off slow and built to a fever pitch, only to settle into a steady hum again by closing time. you liked the regulars, too—the older men who came in after long shifts at the docks or the factory. they nursed beers as if they were lifelines and tipped generously, their wallets loosening with each drink. they were kind, if a little lonely, and they made your job bearable.

the others weren’t as pleasant. there were men with slicked-back hair and gold watches, the kind who brought their wives to brunch in the mornings, but showed up at the roadside every night with someone new on their arm. whiskey neat for him, a bright, sugary cocktail for her—each woman seemingly younger, blonder, and more compliant than the last. they never tipped, and they always left a mess. you hated them the most.

and then there were the tourists. they breezed in like they owned the place, their faces sunburned and shining, and almost always said the same thing: “surprise me.” you never did. you’d pour them a vodka soda with light ice, knowing it would do the job. they didn’t care about flavor or nuance, just speed, and you weren’t about to waste good liquor on someone who wouldn’t appreciate it.

over time, the faces all blurred together. you’d seen so many people come and go that you’d stopped trying to remember them. the roadside was a revolving door, and you preferred it that way. no attachments, no complications.

“on the clock?” you looked up, having been lost in thought, polishing a variety of glasses and setting them away. he was sat in front of you, a look of near disinterest playing on his face. he almost seemed ticked off. the scent of his cologne clashed with the smell of gin. he fashioned a buzzcut, a polo shirt, and a pair of shorts. tan, blond—he’d have been disney’s dream if he was just a few years younger. if he wasn’t so easy to recognize, you would’ve mistaken him for a tourist. “unfortunately,” you responded with an honesty that almost made him smile. “what can i get you?”

for a second, he didn’t respond. you stood in front of him, with nothing but the counter separating you, but it did little to stop either of you from staring. his light blue eyes bored into yours without the faintest shade of shame. there seemed to be a grey hue to them that the photos of him never captured. rafe cameron, what were the chances of him showing up? he had gained a certain reputation thanks to his father, and his tendency to act out in public. maybe it was best if you said nothing. so, you broke the gaze.

“single malt scotch,” he answered, leaning forward against the counter. you nodded, doing your best to ignore the way his eyes followed your every movement, paired with the uncanny order that screamed toxic masculinity. you grabbed the bottle of scotch from the shelf, careful not to let your hands tremble as you poured the amber liquid into a clean glass. the sound of the pour filled the silence between you, and you were hyperaware of his gaze tracking every movement. it wasn’t just curiosity; it felt calculated, as though he were sizing you up, deciding if you were worth his attention.

the scotch settled in the glass, and you slid it across the counter toward him. “here you go,” you announced, your voice steady despite the prickle of unease his presence stirred. rafe pulled out a wallet from his pocket and laid a crisp bill on the counter, more than enough to cover the drink. his movements were deliberate, slow, as if he enjoyed the way it kept you waiting. “keep the change,” he muttered, picking up the glass and taking a measured sip.

you tucked the bill into the register, brushing off the way his tone lingered in the air. glancing around the bar, you noticed a lull in the activity. the older regulars were nursing their drinks, and the tourists had either left or were too absorbed in their own conversations to need you. your eyes drifted to the window, catching sight of a dirt bike parked just outside. its sleek red and black frame stood out against the muted colors of the streetlights.

“that your bike?” you asked, your curiosity slipping through before you could stop yourself. rafe’s lips quirked up slightly as he set his glass down. “yeah, ktm. you know bikes?”

“not really,” you admitted, leaning your hip against the counter. “but it’s a nice one. looks fast.”

“it is.” he took another sip, his eyes still on you. “you like fast things?”

there it was—the subtle shift in his tone, just enough to make the question feel loaded. you raised a brow, refusing to let him get under your skin. “depends on the thing,” you replied coolly. “fast isn’t always better.”

the smirk on his face deepened, and for a moment, he said nothing, just stared at you like he was trying to figure out what made you tick. “you’ve got a mouth on you,” he said finally, his voice low and edged with amusement. “i like that.”

you rolled your eyes, reaching for a rag to wipe down the counter. “and you’ve got a way of talking that screams trouble. i’ll pass.”

“trouble, huh?” he chuckled softly, leaning back in his seat. “you make that judgment on your own, or is that what you’ve heard about me?”

you hesitated. his reputation preceded him, of course. rafe cameron, the kook prince with too much money and too much anger. everyone had a story about him, most of them involving fights, drugs, or some poor girl left heartbroken in his wake. but something about the way he was looking at you now—calm, almost bored—didn’t match the chaos you’d heard about.

“a little of both,” you admitted, meeting his gaze again. “does it bother you?”

“not really,” he said with a shrug. “people are gonna think what they want. doesn’t make it true.”

“doesn’t make it false either,” you shot back, unable to help yourself.

that earned you another smirk, sharper this time. “you always this quick with your customers?”

“only the ones who think they’re special,” you said, the words slipping out before you could second-guess them.

his laugh was soft, but almost genuine, and it caught you off guard. “fair enough,” he said, finishing the last of his scotch. he pushed the glass toward you, the faintest hint of a challenge in his eyes. “one more?”

you nodded, grabbing the bottle again. this time, you didn’t feel the same pressure to avoid his gaze. if he wanted to play games, you could play too. as you poured, you said, “you must get this a lot.”

“what’s that?” he asked, tilting his head slightly.

“girls falling over themselves for you,” you said bluntly, setting the glass down in front of him. “the charm, the looks, the whole mysterious bad boy act—it’s a lot.”

“act?” he raised a brow, clearly amused. “you think this is an act?”

“isn’t it?” you countered, crossing your arms. “seems a little rehearsed.”

he leaned forward, the movement subtle but deliberate, and suddenly the air between you felt charged again. “if i wanted to charm you,” he said slowly, his voice dropping an octave, “you’d know.”

the heat of his words settled in your chest, but you refused to let it show. instead, you picked up his empty glass and started wiping it clean. “i’ll take your word for it,” you said evenly, refusing to meet his gaze.

for a moment, neither of you spoke. he watched you in silence, his expression unreadable, and you found yourself wondering what was going through his mind. finally, he stood, pulling a set of keys from his pocket.

“thanks for the drink,” he said, his tone cool and detached again. “maybe i’ll see you around.”

“maybe,” you replied, watching as he turned and walked toward the door. his figure disappeared into the night, leaving behind the faint scent of cologne and a lingering tension you couldn’t quite shake. when you glanced out the window again, the dirt bike was gone, its engine a distant hum in the night. you exhaled, realizing only then how tightly you’d been gripping the rag in your hand. he was trouble, no doubt about it. but for some reason, you couldn’t quite bring yourself to regret the encounter.

the walk home was quiet, unsettlingly so. you’d managed to convince one of your co-workers to cover the rest of your shift, citing the lack of customers as a valid reason, but now, as the empty streets stretched before you, you almost wished you’d stayed. the moonlight pooled on the cracked pavement, illuminating a path that felt both too open and too confining. you held your house keys tightly in one hand, the jagged edges digging into your palm like a makeshift weapon. just in case. you weren’t the type to take chances.

your steps were brisk but measured, careful not to echo too loudly. every shadow seemed alive, every sound amplified. a rustle in the bushes had your heart racing, your grip tightening on the keys. it was probably a cat, you told yourself, though your eyes darted back toward the noise every few seconds, just to be sure. the world felt too quiet, too exposed. you hated this part of the night—the vulnerability of it. it wasn’t paranoia, you told yourself, just caution. but still, your mind raced with every worst-case scenario.

when you finally reached your house, relief washed over you like a wave. the sight of the peeling paint and sagging porch might have been depressing to anyone else, but to you, it meant safety. unlocking the door felt like unlocking a barrier between you and the rest of the world. once inside, you locked it again, flipping the bolt twice just to hear the satisfying click. the air inside was stale, carrying the faint scent of cleaning products and something slightly metallic. it wasn’t much, but it was yours. or at least, it was until the lease ran out.

the place was as minimal as it could get. a mismatched thrift store couch dominated the small living room, its cushions worn and sagging in places. a single bookshelf stood in the corner, half-filled with old paperbacks and a few decorative knick-knacks you’d found at a yard sale. the kitchen, visible from the living room, was clean but bare, its counters free of anything that might be considered a luxury. your future depended on saving, on scrimping wherever you could, and every dollar you didn’t spend brought you one step closer to a life that didn’t feel like you were treading water.

you dropped your bag near the door and kicked off your shoes, the weight of the day settling over you like a blanket. collapsing onto the couch, you reached for the remote and flicked the television on. the screen blinked to life, casting a dim blue glow across the room. you scrolled aimlessly through the channels until the news caught your eye.

“...marking the anniversary of ward cameron’s death,” the reporter announced, her voice measured. the screen cut to a montage of images—ward’s face, the cameron estate. “ward cameron, a prominent figure in the outer banks, left behind a legacy of wealth, corruption, and betrayal. his death, which shocked the island community, continues to be a topic of both fascination and controversy.”

you scoffed, sinking deeper into the couch. “apple, tree,” you muttered under your breath, the words bitter and sharp. it was hard not to think about rafe, his cool demeanor and the air of entitlement that clung to him like a second skin. the spawn of the man had left the world behind with a son who seemed a fistfight away from being institutionalized. it was rich people bullshit, all of it, and it infuriated you. they lived in their gilded cages, creating drama out of thin air while people like you scraped by just to keep the lights on.

the reporter continued, delving into ward’s crimes and the ripple effect they’d had on the community, but you tuned her out. it all felt so distant, so removed from your own reality. people like the camerons didn’t have to worry about overdue bills or walking home alone at night. they sneezed, and the rest of the island lined up to wipe their noses.

you grabbed the thin blanket draped over the back of the couch and pulled it over yourself, letting the reporter’s voice fade into background noise. the couch wasn’t comfortable—not really—but it was familiar. it was where you ended most nights, too tired to drag yourself to the bedroom. the faint hum of the television lulled you into a fragile sense of calm, the weight of the day finally giving way to exhaustion.

as you closed your eyes, the image of rafe’s piercing blue stare flitted across your mind, unbidden and unwelcome. you shoved it away, chalking it up to nothing more than an odd encounter. he was a blip on the radar, a momentary distraction in a life too busy for indulgences like curiosity. with a heavy sigh, you let the hum of the television pull you under, the world slipping away as sleep claimed you.

the next day dawned slow and gray, the kind of morning that felt like a continuation of the night before. you went about your routine with mechanical precision, brushing your teeth in the tiny bathroom with its perpetually fogged mirror and peeling wallpaper. breakfast was quick—toast, black coffee, and a glance at the wilted plant by the window you kept forgetting to water. you were out the door before you had time to feel the weight of the day ahead.

the walk to the bar wasn’t long, but it was enough to remind you why you hated mornings. the streets were quiet, but not in the same way as they were at night. this quiet felt temporary, like the city was holding its breath before the chaos of the day began.

at the bar, you fell into the rhythm of the job almost immediately. wiping down counters, setting up glasses, restocking liquor shelves—it was second nature by now. the hours dragged, each one blending into the next as a slow trickle of customers came and went. a few regulars shuffled in for their early beers, their faces as familiar to you as the scratches on the bar top. you greeted them with polite smiles, but your mind was elsewhere.

you didn’t want to admit it, even to yourself, but you half-expected rafe to show up. every time the door swung open, your eyes darted toward it, only to find someone else stepping inside. the anticipation was irritating, like an itch you couldn’t scratch. you told yourself you didn’t care whether he came back or not, but the lie was too obvious to be convincing.

by nightfall, the bar began to pick up. the low hum of conversation grew louder, mingling with the clink of glasses and the faint strains of a classic rock playlist. you stepped outside for a smoke break, needing a moment away from the noise. the air was cool, carrying the faint scent of salt from the ocean. you leaned against the wall, the cigarette in your hand a small comfort against the monotony of the day.

the sound of a motor rumbled in the distance, growing louder until it filled the air. your eyes flicked toward the source, and there he was, pulling up on his dirt bike like he owned the place. the red and black machine gleamed under the dim streetlights, and for a moment, you just watched as he killed the engine and swung a leg over. he took off his helmet, revealing that same buzzcut and piercing blue eyes that had lingered in your mind longer than you cared to admit. he saw you almost immediately, a smirk curling at the corner of his mouth as he approached.

“you get lost again?” you called out, unable to resist. your tone was teasing, but the sight of him sent an unexpected jolt through you. “figure 8’s on the other side.”

he chuckled, low and amused, the sound like gravel in his throat. “must’ve taken a wrong turn.” his eyes dropped to the cigarette in your hand, and his smirk deepened. “those things’ll kill you, y’know?”

you scoffed, tapping the ash off the end and watching it scatter to the ground. “not fast enough, obviously.”

“let’s hope not,” he replied smoothly, his gaze steady on yours. “not until i get a glass of scotch.”

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the faint tug of a smile. “two nights in a row, it must be good.”

he tilted his head, the smirk on his face turning downright devious. “among other things.”

the way he said it sent a chill down your spine, one you couldn’t quite shake as you turned and headed back inside. you heard his footsteps behind you, steady and unhurried, as though he knew exactly where he belonged.

behind the bar, you reached for the bottle of single malt without needing to ask. he took the same seat as the night before, his movements deliberate and lazy, like he had all the time in the world. you poured the drink and set it in front of him, doing your best to ignore the way his eyes seemed to follow your every move.

“caught the news last night,” you said casually as he pulled out his wallet. “sorry for your loss.”

the change in his expression was instant, the smirk wiped clean in less than a second. his jaw tightened, and his light blue eyes grew cold. “don’t be,” he said flatly. “i’m not.”

you had to resist the urge to roll your eyes at the obvious deflection. “he’s your dad, is he not?” you asked, more curious than you should’ve been.

rafe’s lips twitched, but it wasn’t a smile. “sure, why not?” his tone was stoic, detached, and it made you regret bringing it up. the silence that followed was heavy, thick with something unspoken that you couldn’t quite place.

he sipped his drink, his gaze fixed on the counter as though it held answers to questions you didn’t even know how to ask. to you, it was just another reminder of how different your worlds were. but to him, the weight of that silence carried memories he wouldn’t let surface, not here, not now, not ever.

the bar buzzed around you, but for a moment, the two of you might as well have been the only ones there. you busied yourself with wiping down the counter, giving him the space he clearly needed. whatever his relationship with his father had been, it wasn’t your place to pry. but as you glanced at him, you couldn’t help but wonder—what kind of man grew up in the shadow of someone like ward cameron?

you were midway through rinsing a glass when a new customer slid into the seat beside rafe. the man was tall, blond, and sun-kissed, his skin bearing the unmistakable sheen of someone who spent most of their days by the water. his outfit—a white wifebeater and faded shorts—screamed local. rafe stiffened beside him, his easy demeanor shifting as he leaned back in his seat, jaw tightening. the newcomer leaned forward onto the bar, turning his attention to you.

“excuse me?” his voice cut through the background noise, drawing your focus. you walked over, keeping your expression neutral.

“what can i get you?” you asked casually, pulling a towel off your shoulder and tossing it onto the counter.

the man grinned, clearly enjoying himself as he pretended to think. he was already swaying slightly, the telltale sign of someone who’d started drinking well before stepping through your door.

“well,” he began, dragging the word out like it was some profound thought, “i’d ask for a beer, but it depends.” he paused, his smile growing wider. “does the beer come with a phone number?”

you bit back the urge to roll your eyes, a skill you’d perfected over countless encounters like this. leaning forward, you fixed him with a stare so sharp it could cut glass. “a restraining order, actually,” you replied coolly, your voice devoid of humor.

the man laughed, clearly not deterred. if anything, your response seemed to fuel his bravado. “come on, sweetheart,” he said, tilting his head as though to charm you. “what kind of customer service is that?”

you turned away, doing your best to ignore him as you crouched to grab a beer from the fridge. the cool air brushed your skin, offering a brief reprieve from the heat of the room. you popped the cap off the bottle, your back still turned, oblivious to the way the man leaned back in his seat, his eyes glued to the way your jeans stopped below your waist. what you missed, someone else didn’t.

the first crash was deafening, shattering the rhythm of the bar in an instant. you whipped around, the beer in your hand sloshing slightly as your eyes widened at the scene before you.

the blond man was on the ground, sprawled awkwardly, his face contorted in shock and pain. towering over him was rafe, his knuckles already bloodied from the first blow. the air felt electric, charged with the sheer force of the rage radiating from him. “come on, sweetheart,” rafe sneered, his tone mocking as he delivered another punch. “what kind of manners are those?”

the man barely had time to respond before rafe grabbed him by the front of his tank top, hauling him up like a ragdoll. the look in his eyes was something primal, something feral. “i might just make you my bitch if I don’t kill you first,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous.

the man whimpered, his bravado completely gone, but rafe wasn’t finished. his fist connected again, the sound of impact reverberating through the room.

“rafe, stop!” you shouted, your voice cutting through the chaos. you scrambled out from behind the bar, pushing past the growing crowd of onlookers. it took more than just you to pull him away. one of the other bartenders jumped in, followed by a bouncer, both of them struggling to wrestle rafe back. his chest heaved, his hands still twitching with barely-contained energy as they held him.

you crouched beside the man on the floor, who was clutching his face and groaning. his nose was bleeding, and one eye was already swelling shut. your heart pounded as you turned back to rafe, fury and disbelief written all over your face. “are you trying to get me fired?” you snapped, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and adrenaline.

his gaze shifted to you, his blue eyes dark and unreadable. for a moment, he didn’t respond, his breathing heavy, his hands still shaking as they hung at his sides, blood dripping from his knuckles. “yeah,” he said finally, his voice dripping with venom. “because that’d be such a shame.”

his eyes flicked back to the man on the floor, his lip curling in disgust. you saw it then—the side of rafe cameron everyone warned you about. the man who was a ticking time bomb, always seconds away from detonating.

your manager’s glare burned into you, sharp and unrelenting, but the message clear as day. with a sigh heavy enough to rattle your ribs, you turned back to rafe, still seething where he stood, blood dripping onto the floor like a crimson metronome. “come on,” you muttered, jerking your head toward the back. “let’s fix you up before you make this night even worse.”

rafe followed without protest, his steps heavy and deliberate, the energy of the room shifting as you led him through the door behind the bar. the hallway was dim, illuminated only by the flicker of a fluorescent bulb, the walls lined with scuffed paint and the faint smell of bleach. you shoved open the door to a small office-slash-medical-room hybrid—a cluttered, utilitarian space with a desk shoved against the wall and a first-aid kit hanging by the door.

“sit down,” you snapped, pointing at the worn metal chair in the center of the room. he obliged, sinking into the chair with an infuriating calmness, his long legs sprawled out as if he owned the place. he didn’t say a word, but his gaze tracked you as you rummaged through drawers, the scrape of metal and plastic breaking the silence.

it wasn’t until you turned back with supplies in hand that you noticed it: the black grip of a gun tucked into the waistband of his shorts. “are you kidding me?” you hissed, your eyes narrowing. “you’ve gotta be shitting me. second night here, and you’re ready to get me fired.”

rafe didn’t respond immediately, his eyes drawn to the streaks of moonlight slicing through the cracked blinds. the faint silver light caught the sharp angles of his face, softening them just enough to be dangerous. “i have a permit,” he said finally, his voice low and disinterested, as if that explained everything.

you almost laughed. almost. “put that shit away,” you ordered, gesturing sharply.

he smirked but complied, pulling the weapon free and sliding it into his jacket instead. only rafe cameron could make following directions look like a favor. “unbelievable,” you muttered, stepping closer. “hold still.”

you crouched beside him, your fingers deft as you dabbed antiseptic onto a rag. the smell was sharp, stinging your nose as you pressed it to his knuckles. he didn’t flinch, his stoicism unnerving as you worked to clean away the blood and dirt. his hands were strong, calloused in a way that hinted at a life rougher than the one you’d imagined for someone like him.

“you wanna tell me what the hell that was about?” you asked, your tone cutting.

“he was staring at you,” he said simply, his voice devoid of emotion.

you glanced up, caught off guard by the frankness of his statement. “so what? i deal with creeps like that all the time. doesn’t mean you get to knock their teeth in.”

his lips twitched, the faintest shadow of a smirk. “guess i’m not good at letting things slide.”

“yeah, no kidding,” you shot back, shaking your head. his knuckles were raw and split, the blood pooling in thin lines that you carefully wiped away.

the silence between you stretched, thick and charged, until finally, you leaned back and surveyed your work. his hands were still trembling, though whether from adrenaline or something deeper, you couldn’t tell. “all done,” you said, straightening up. “now, if you’ll excuse me, i’m clocking out before someone else decides to bleed all over my bar.”

rafe stood, towering over you as he adjusted his jacket. “i’ll take you home.”

you blinked, caught off guard by the offer. “my legs work just fine,” you replied, your tone sharper than intended.

he didn’t budge, his gaze steady and unwavering. “i wasn’t asking.”

before you could protest further, he was leading you back to the front, where his bike waited. the night air was cool against your skin, the hum of cicadas filling the silence as he handed you a helmet.

“don’t tell me to hold on tight, because i won’t,” you warned as you climbed on behind him, the words almost daring.

he chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “we’ll see about that.”

the engine roared beneath you, and despite your earlier words, your arms instinctively wrapped around his waist as the bike lurched forward. the wind whipped past you, pulling at your hair as the world blurred into streaks of light and shadow.

by the time he pulled up to your house, your pulse was racing for reasons you refused to examine too closely. you slid off the bike, your legs unsteady as you removed the helmet and handed it back to him.

“thanks for the ride,” you muttered, stepping onto the porch. rafe followed, his gaze sweeping over the small, weathered house you called home. you braced yourself for some snide comment, but he said nothing, his expression unreadable.

“it’s not much,” you admitted, crossing your arms defensively.

“it’s enough,” he said simply, his tone carrying none of the judgment you’d expected.

you looked up at him, the moonlight casting an ethereal glow over his features, highlighting the sharp planes of his cheekbones and the curve of his lips. there was something magnetic about him, something that made your heart stumble even as your mind screamed at you to stay away.

no matter how much your mind screamed at you, you knew you wouldn’t listen. when he kissed you, it wasn’t sweet or gentle. It was rough, insistent, a collision of mouths and unspoken tensions. his hands gripped your waist, pulling you closer as his lips moved against yours, claiming and demanding in a way that left you breathless. it wasn’t romantic. it wasn’t kind. but it was everything you didn’t know you’d been craving.

“we’re so not doing this,” you exhaled with a shaky laugh, breaking the kiss as reality clawed its way back into your mind. your palms flattened against his chest, as though a barrier of mere inches could hold back the tide of whatever this was.

but rafe didn’t flinch. his hands, rough and warm, rested on your bare waist, his thumbs drawing lazy circles on your skin that sent sparks racing through your veins. his gaze, piercing and unrelenting, locked onto yours like a challenge, daring you to contradict him.

“yes, we are,” his eyes seemed to say, the intensity of his stare enough to make you forget the very air around you. “are you scared?” he whispered, the words slipping from his lips like silk. they weren’t a question, not really. they were a taunt, a gauntlet thrown at your feet.

he leaned closer, his breath hot against your ear, sending a shiver rolling down your spine. his nose brushed against the shell of your ear, his lips so close they grazed your neck, and you swore he could feel the way your pulse fluttered beneath your skin.

“i’m not scared of anything,” you shot back, your voice firmer than you felt. defiance burned in your chest, even as the sensation of his mouth barely ghosting over your jaw made your knees weak.

“maybe you should be,” he murmured, his voice low, his tone a promise more than a threat.

the words undid you. they stripped away your composure, your restraint, until nothing remained but the white-hot pull that had been simmering between you all night. your fingers moved before you could stop them, wrapping around the back of his neck, the tips grazing the bare skin there. the contact sent a shiver through him that you felt as much as saw.

and then you were kissing him again, your lips colliding with his in a frenzy of heat and need. there was no hesitation this time, no room for second thoughts or retreat. he tasted like scotch and rebellion, smelled like leather and something darker, something dangerous. you weren’t scared, but you should have been. everyone was scared of the devil.

his hand found the small of your back, his touch searing through the fabric of your shirt as he pushed you backward, through the open door to your house. your legs gave out slightly, the doorframe digging into your spine as you kissed him harder. rafe’s other hand roamed up your side, his fingertips tracing the line of your waist, up to your chest, cupping one of your tits through the fabric. your breath hitched, your eyes fluttering shut as he squeezed gently.

“you must do this a lot,” you half-joked as his lips find their way back to your neck, wet and sloppy as they travel down to your collarbone. he grunts against your skin, “could say the same about you,” he retorts. the room spun around you as he backed you further into the house, his hands never leaving your body, his mouth never leaving your neck. you felt the wall behind you, your body trapped between the hardness of the wall and the hardness of, well, him.

his hand slid around your thigh, diving under the fabric of your jeans, fingertips grazing the wetness of your panties. your hips bucked slightly at the touch, betraying your own eagerness. “haven’t been fucked in a while, have you?” he murmured, his voice a dark promise. “what’s the matter, baby? did i turn you on?” you wanted to defy him more than anything, but you were powerless to resist.

instead, you fought fire with fire, raising your knee enough to press it against the center of his shorts. no matter how tough your bones were, they did little to prepare you for just how hard and heavy he felt, throbbing under the thick material of his shorts. “you’ve got it worse than i do,” you do your best to retort, but it’s not easy, not with his fingers rubbing sweet circles against the damp spot of your panties, drawing out every whimper he can from you.

“ease my pain, why don't you?” he murmurs softly. you watched him through hooded eyes as he crouched down, his fingers tugging down your jeans until they're pooling around your ankles. you complied, raising your feet to rid yourself of the blockage. when you did, he took a moment to admire you—pressed against the wall of your own home, standing in nothing but a skimpy top, panties soaked, and a pair of heels he didn’t plan on letting you take off.

when you tried to, he was quick to stop you. “heels on,” his voice was coated in authority, and you’re quick to pull back. “everything else, off.”

“bossy, aren’t you?” you couldnt help but ask him, but it only encouraged him. you watched as he leveled the playing field, peeling his own shirt off, leaving him in nothing but his shorts. he seemed skinny, thanks to his height, but you had clearly been deceived. he was toned, everything about him was toned in just the right places.

your eyes trailed down to the metal tucked in his shorts, and you allowed yourself to pull the weapon out, holding it in front of him. “really?” you couldn’t help but ask. he offered a smile amd a shrug, unable to protest as you sat the gun on the table beside him. better safe than sorry.

you couldn’t help but trail a hand down his chest, your feather-light touch sending shivers down his spine as you traced every muscle and crevice from his collarbone to his hips. youd never admit it out loud, but he was incredible. “see something you like?” he teased, attaching his lips to your neck a final time as his fingers tugged at your shirt, eager to get it out of the way. you whimpered at the feeling, the way he’d bite down enough to make you wince, but run his tongue over the surface a second later. “don’t flatter yourself,” you managed to say.

but he had every intention of doing so. he allowed your shirt to fall to the floor as his lips travelled south, making their way down your collarbone and over your clothed tits. you tilted your head back, fingers instinctively pulling him in closer by the back of his neck, drawing him in further between your tits. he unclasped your bra with ease, giving you the impression he had definitely done this plenty of times, but you were too desperate to care. “should’ve just told me you wanted it rough,” he said, and you swore you could feel his smirk against your skin.

his hand slid down to cup your ass, his fingertips ghosting over the lace of your panties. with a sharp tug, he pulled them aside, revealing the sticky mess that had been hidden beneath. “dripping all over my fingers, huh?” he murmured, his voice low enough to send a tremor through you. his finger slid through the slickness, teasing your entrance before pressing inside. you moaned, your legs shaking, your hips thrusting back against him. “fuck, rafe, too much,” and you wished you were exaggerating. his fingers were thin, slender, hitting all the right spots like they had them mapped out.

his eyes searched yours as he began to pump his finger in and out of you, his strokes measured and deliberate. “not enough, never enough,” he countered, his tone almost mocking. you whined, desperate for more. he smirked, adding a second finger, his thumb finding your clit and circling it with just enough pressure to make your knees buckle. you leaned into the wall, using it for support as his digits worked their magic. you were dripping all over his fingers, wetting them from the tips to his knuckles.

when he pulled them out, it almost felt cruel, a long whine drawn out of you as the feeling of emptiness replaced fulfillment. “so fucking needy, jesus, shit,” he groaned, taking a second to admire how glossy his fingers were, how hard the sight of your arousal had him. “just a second, i promise.” you nodded, watching as he brought his shorts down, leaving him in his boxers, but only for a second. it was enough for you to catch the trailer, to see what awaited you.

when his boxers followed, you really wished for another minute to process the sight. his cock flopped against his abs, twitching. his tip was stained an angry red, beads of pre-cum trailing down the underside of his cock, following a prominent vein before collecting under his balls. “stroke my ego, just like that,” you heard him say, but you didn’t care. you needed him.

his hand wrapped around his shaft, stroking it slowly, teasingly. “you like watching, don’t you?” you nodded, your eyes glued to his hand as it glided up and down. “good,” he murmured, his eyes darkening. “i’ll put on a fucking show for you.”

he stepped closer, pressing the tip of his cock against your clit, hard and ready to split your folds open. you could feel the heat, the urgency, and the promise of what was to come. he leaned in, his breath hot on your face. “gonna take this dick like a fuckin’ champ.”

your cheeks burned with a mix of embarrassment and desire, his words hitting you in the core of your being. you didn’t know why, but you craved his dirty talk, his filthy mouth whispering bittersweet nothings that turned you into a trembling mess. “yes, please, fuck me,” you breathed, your voice a shaky whisper that seemed to echo through the room.

rafe smirked, his hand still working his cock. “that’s my girl,” he said, and the term of endearment had your stomach doing somersaults. his eyes never left yours, not even as he pushed his cock past your folds, eyes glued to the way your jaw dropped, your eyes rolling into the back of your head at the sensation of his bare tip splitting you open.

you were soaked, the sound of his skin slapping against yours obscene, filling the room as he picked up his pace. he leaned in, his teeth capturing yours in a brutal kiss that had you moaning into his mouth. your nails scratched at his back, leaving deep red grooves that you knew would scar. his hands gripped your hips, holding you steady as he thrust into you, his strokes deep and unrelenting. “fuck, shit, pussy’s squeezing my cock,” he groaned through the kiss, breathless.

the room spun around you, the sensation of his bare length inside you, the feeling of his teeth on your lip, his tongue in your mouth—it was all too much. your body felt like it was on fire, every nerve ending a live wire ready to spark and explode. “yes, yes, fuck, yes,” you chanted, your voice a desperate mantra that matched the rhythm of his hips.

his hands slid to your throat, thumbs pressing against the pulse that beat frantically. you gasped, the sudden pressure a jolt of electricity that shot straight to your core. his grip tightened, not enough to cut off air, but enough to make you aware of your vulnerability. “you like it rough, don’t you?” he whispered, his voice a dark caress in your ear. you didnt even have to answer, the feeling of your cunt clenching around him told him everything he needed to know.

his hand slid down to grip your neck, his fingers tightening as he slammed into you, the sound of skin slapping skin echoing off the walls. “you want it harder?” he growled, his teeth grazing your earlobe. you nodded, your breath coming in ragged gasps. you weren’t sure how much harder it could get—with him pounding your pussy, you could feel the way he throbbed, pulsing deep inside of you, but you had to expect the unexpected from him. the unexpected came as he leaned back, hand wrapping around the barrel of his gun. your eyes widened, but you were in no position to resist—you didn’t even want to.

there was something dangerous in his eyes, something you had only seen once, just a few hours earlier at the bar, but it drew you in more than you wanted it to. his pace never faltered, his hips slamming against your flesh as one hand held your leg up high, the sight of your cunt swallowing him whole only adding fuel to the fire. his other hand held the gun, finger to the trigger, as he pressed it to your temple.

“tell me you’re scared,” he murmured, gripping your thigh in a way that told you to expect a bruise or two. the cold metal of the gun you knew had to have been loaded dug into your skin, his fingers locked around the trigger.

“scared,” you barely managed to whisper, tits shaking with every forceful thrust. “i’m scared, rafe,” but your words were like music to his ears, the clenching of your cunt a sign that you were just as horny as you were scared.

he threw his head back, pushing your leg up even farther, enough for it to sting deliciously as he rammed into you, the head of his cock bruising the entirety of your pussy. “you should be,” he hissed, sweat dripping down his chest. he lowered the gun, giving you a temporary feeling of relief, one that didnt last long. he brought it closer to you, tapping your bottom lip with the muzzle. “didn’t i tell you?”

your eyes widened at the sight of the weapon so close to you, his fingers never leaving the trigger, but you knew your best option was to oblige. your lips parted, and he was quick to push it into your mouth. he groaned at the sight, watching your swollen lips wrap around the barrel enough to send him over the edge. “doin’ everything i tell you to, fuck, you’re so good.”

you felt the metal of the gun slide along your tongue, his hips moving with the rhythm of your mouth. you didn’t dare bite down, not with how close he was to climax. his hand tightened around your throat, his other hand keeping the gun in your mouth as he fucked you harder, his strokes becoming erratic. “you’re gonna take it all, baby. all of me. every single drop,” he promised, and the thought of his hot, sticky cum filling your mouth had your pussy tightening around his cock.

you felt your orgasm approaching, the tension in your body coiling like a tight spring ready to snap. you moaned around the gun, the vibrations of the sound traveling up the barrel and into your mouth. rafe’s eyes glazed over, his movements becoming sloppy with lust. “yeah, just like that,” he whispered, his thumb pressing into your neck, cutting off just enough air to make your world spin.

the gun slipped from your mouth with a wet pop, and you gasped for air, your chest heaving as his grip around your neck loosened slightly. his eyes snapped to yours, searching, hungry, as he pulled out of you, his cock glistening with your wetness. before you could protest, he turned you around, pressing you into the wall. his hand found your throat again, squeezing as his cock nudged at your entrance from behind.

the fear and arousal had started mixing in a heady cocktail that had you on the edge of oblivion. with a smirk, he slammed into you, his bare skin slapping against yours in a way that was almost painful. your eyes rolled back as he fucked you mercilessly, his hand around your neck keeping you in place, his other hand pressing against your stomach to keep you steady.

his thumb brushed against your clit, the sensation making you moan, your knees buckling slightly. he chuckled darkly, the sound sending a thrill through your body. “such a sweet thing,” he said, his voice deep and guttural. “letting me fill this sweet pussy up.” you could only moan, unable to do anything but submit to his will. the pressure built inside of you, a crescendo that was only heightened by the way he choked you, the way his cock hit just the right spot deep inside of you.

his strokes grew more erratic, his breathing becoming ragged. “yes, yes, fuck, cum for me, cum all over this cock,” he demanded, his voice a mix of pleasure and command. and like a good little slut, you did. your orgasm hit you like a freight train, your body shaking and convulsing around his cock, your cunt pulsing with every beat of your heart.

his grip on your neck tightened, his thrusts becoming even more punishing as you came. your nails scraped against the wall, leaving marks that would surely be there when the sun came up. you could feel your eyes water, your vision swimming with the pressure he applied, but it only added to the intense pleasure that flooded your body. “fuck, yes, take it, take it all,” he groaned, his hips jerking as he emptied himself inside of you. his cum filled you, hot and thick, and you felt the stickiness of it trickle down your legs. he leaned into you, his body pressing you into the wall, his breathing harsh and heavy in your ear. for a moment, you felt it all, right before youe vision betrayed you.

the morning greeted you with the kind of disorientation that made reality feel like a cruel trick. your head throbbed, and your body ached as if every muscle in you had given up the fight. blinking against the sunlight streaming in through the window, you became acutely aware of the rough texture of the couch beneath you. the blanket draped over you was haphazard, your clothes were gone, and a sickening weight settled in your stomach.

it didn’t take long for the memories to come flooding back: rafe’s hands on your skin, his lips on yours, the way he’d devoured you as if you were the only thing keeping him alive. and now? nothing. the couch was empty, and the only remnants of him were the bruises on your neck and the dull ache between your thighs.

you exhaled shakily, pressing your palms against your face. what had you expected? a note? breakfast? rafe cameron wasn’t the kind of man who stayed. he took what he wanted, and you’d been foolish enough to give it to him.

the guilt settled like a weight on your chest as you forced yourself to your feet, rummaging for clothes. the shame was suffocating, curling around you as you dressed in silence. by the time you stepped out of your house, the sun was high, and the day was already slipping away.

at work, the tension was evident. your manager’s icy glare followed you as you prepped for the event that night. “last night was your first strike,” he said coldly, and you knew there was no room for argument. you nodded silently, biting back the urge to snap. the day dragged on, and despite the busy prep work, rafe never appeared.

by the time the sun dipped below the horizon, the event was in full swing. the bar was packed, music pumping through the speakers, and you were moving through the crowd like clockwork. but you couldn’t stop the gnawing feeling in your chest, the anticipation every time the door swung open. he still wasn’t there.

frustrated, you stepped outside for a smoke, seeking solace in the familiar burn of nicotine. the beach in the distance was scattered with people, laughter and music drifting on the wind. that’s when you saw him. rafe was leaning against the hood of his bike, his head tilted as a girl’s hands tangled in his hair. her lips moved feverishly against his, her body pressed against his in a way that made your stomach twist.

“it’s not that serious,” you muttered to yourself, exhaling a shaky breath. but it didn’t stop the sting, the ache that settled deep in your chest. you extinguished the cigarette against the wall and went back inside, needing something—anything—to dull the edges of your emotions.

the first drink went down easy. the second burned, but you welcomed it. you poured yourself a third before a light tap on your shoulder startled you. “excuse me,” a voice said, nervous and unsure.

you turned, offering a faint smile to the tall, sunkissed guy standing behind you. “are you on your break?” he asked hesitantly.

you shook your head, setting your glass down. “it’s okay. i could use the distraction. what’re you having?”

he slid onto the stool, rubbing the back of his neck. “a mai tai would be alright.”

nodding, you set to work, your movements automatic. you slid the drink across the counter, noting the way he fidgeted with his fingers. “busy night,” he said, trying to make conversation.

“yeah, i guess,” you replied.

he shrugged, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “came with a friend, but he’s with a girl right now.”

you sat beside him, crossing your arms. “sorry to hear that.”

“it’s fine,” he said, taking a sip of his drink. “i’m topper, by the way.”

before you could respond, a familiar presence loomed beside you. you turned slowly, your stomach sinking when your eyes landed on him. “this the friend you were talking about?” you asked topper, though your gaze stayed fixed on rafe.

“yeah,” topper said, oblivious to the tension. “you two know each other?”

rafe opened his mouth, but you were quicker. “no,” you said firmly. “no idea.”

rafe’s expression was unreadable, but you didn’t care. you spent the rest of the night ignoring him, focusing on anything but the way his eyes bore into you. when your shift finally ended, you clocked out and stepped outside, only to find him waiting.

“what do you want?” you snapped, already exhausted.

“what’s wrong?” he asked, his tone laced with faux concern.

“fuck off, rafe.”

he grabbed your arm, spinning you around to face him. “is this about sofia?” he asked, realization dawning on his face.

“so she has a name,” you said bitterly, yanking your arm free.

“get over yourself,” he called after you. “you should’ve known it was casual.” his words hit like a slap, but you didn’t look back. you couldn’t.

the next few days were a blur of muted colors and sharp-edged feelings that refused to dull. you didn’t go to work; the thought of stepping back into that bar, facing the memories etched into its walls, was unbearable. instead, you sought solace in the one place that had always calmed you—the beach.

the sand felt cold beneath your feet, even in the mid-morning sun. the rhythmic crashing of the waves usually soothed you, their endless cadence like a lullaby for your restless mind. but today, they felt distant, like a song you no longer knew the words to.

you sat by the shoreline, knees hugged to your chest as the salty breeze tangled in your hair. there was no anger, no fire—just an aching hollowness that stretched out inside you. mourning someone who was never really yours wasn’t a dramatic storm; it was a slow erosion, like the tide pulling pieces of you away until you were left unrecognizable.

you replayed every moment with him in your mind, dissecting every look, every word, searching for signs of something deeper, something real. but the truth was glaringly simple: rafe cameron wasn’t yours. he was never meant to be.

as the day slipped into evening, the sun sinking low on the horizon, you wandered aimlessly along the beach. the golden light painted the world in soft hues, but it couldn’t reach you. the weight of your thoughts dragged you back to the sand, and you sat again, staring at the endless expanse of water, feeling as though it mirrored the vast emptiness inside you.

you didn’t notice the presence beside you at first. the silence had become your companion, so when the soft crunch of sand gave way to stillness, you barely registered it. but then you turned your head, and there he was. he didn’t look at you. his gaze, like yours, was fixed on the water. the sharp angles of his face were softened in the twilight, but the tension in his jaw betrayed him. he said nothing at first, and neither did you. words felt too heavy, too complicated for the fragile stillness between you.

“my dad had a choice to make before he died,” he said finally, his voice low and rough, as though dragged over gravel.

you didn’t turn to him, didn’t acknowledge his words beyond the faintest flicker of your lashes.

“he told me he had to choose between me and my sister,” he continued, his tone clipped, detached. “he told me it’d always be her.”

the confession hung in the air, heavy and raw, but you stayed quiet, your eyes locked on the waves that seemed to stretch forever. “the first night i came into the bar,” he said after a pause, “it was the anniversary of ward’s death.”

your throat tightened, but you remained silent, letting him unravel the threads of himself piece by piece.

“i bent over backward for him, y’know?” his voice cracked, but he recovered quickly, masking the vulnerability with bitterness. “did some things i wasn’t proud of for him, but none of it mattered.”

his laugh was low and bitter, barely more than an exhale. “so forgive me if i’m a little hesitant to let you in.”

there was a challenge in his words, a dare for you to contradict him. but you didn’t. you stared at the water, your voice soft when you finally spoke. “i’m not him, rafe.”

he nodded slowly, the movement barely perceptible out of the corner of your eye. “yeah,” he said, his tone heavy with resignation. “but most of them are.”

you could feel his eyes on you, searching for something—what, you weren’t sure.

“i told him once that I knew something was wrong with me,” he continued, his voice quieter now, almost distant. “but he told me to keep it quiet. that’s how much he cared.”

the silence that followed was suffocating, filled with all the things neither of you could say. the ocean stretched endlessly before you, its waves crashing softly against the shore as if mocking the turmoil inside you.

“i’m sorry,” you said finally, your voice barely audible over the sound of the water.

“for what?” he asked, his tone edged with disbelief.

“for what he did to you.” he didn’t respond, and you didn’t push him. The two of you sat there, side by side, two broken pieces that didn’t quite fit together but couldn’t seem to pull apart.

tears pricked at your eyes, hot and unwelcome, and you blinked furiously, determined not to let them fall. but it was no use. the weight of everything—the loss, the pain, the hopelessness—was too much. a single tear slid down your cheek, then another, until they were falling freely, carving silent trails down your face. you didn’t wipe them away, didn’t hide them. what was the point?

you felt him move before you saw him, his arms wrapping around you from behind. his chin rested lightly on your shoulder, and his grip was firm, possessive. for a moment, you let yourself lean into him, the warmth of his body a cruel comfort against the chill of the night.

but even as he held you, even as your tears soaked into his shirt, you knew the truth. you would worship something that has destruction in its blood, blind and desperate, chasing something you could never truly have. rafe cameron was the kind of man who would burn you to the ground and then light another match just to watch you smolder. and yet, there you were, willingly stepping into the flames.

you stared out at the ocean, its vastness swallowing you whole, and you knew you were lost, eyes dilated as you watched the clouds float. you would practice the worst religion of them all, praying for something you knew you’d never have.

⋆. 𐙚 ˚

[sosa2imagines]

Hii, Dad Bucky ask🫶🏼

What would he do with a few months old twins or triplets? And maybe it was mother's day so he wanted to make something really special for reader as it was her first🫶🏼

Hi, thank you so much for this lovely ask. Bucky would absolutely make sure to make Mother's day very special.

Warning- Pure fluff.

The first rays of dawn were peeking through the curtains when Bucky woke up. He turned his head to look at you, still sound asleep, a peaceful expression on your face. For a moment, he stayed still, memorizing the sight.

Today was special. It was your first Mother’s Day, and Bucky was determined to make it perfect.

Bucky slowly sat up, being careful not to wake you up, and smiled to himself, thinking about today and how it would all go. He softly stroked your hair before slowly climbing out of bed, making sure the comforter was wrapped tightly around you and wouldn't wake you up. He quietly walked out of the bedroom, closing the door to make sure that his movements wouldn't wake you up.

The real challenge, however, lay in the next room.

Samuel Steven Barnes and Natalia Anthony Barnes, your beautiful twins, were already awake and babbling in their cribs. Bucky smiled, running a hand through his hair as he prepared for battle. “Alright munchkins...” he whispered. “Let’s do this for Mommy.”

Dressing the twins was no small feat. By the time Samuel squirmed out of his onesie for the third time and Natalia decided to try her best impression of a gymnast, Bucky was sweating. But he persevered, and finally, both babies were dressed in matching outfits that read ‘World’s Best Mom.’

“Mission accomplished!” he muttered, placing them gently in their bouncy seats. “Now for phase two.”

Breakfast wasn’t exactly his forte, Bucky was grateful for the help from Steve, who had dropped off your favorite dishes from a local breakfast diner. Steve also had given Bucky an apron with the slogan, ‘World’s Best Dad, give Me a Kiss, Mom!’ on it. Bucky laughed as he tied the apron, appreciating Steve's humor, and thinking about how you would appreciate the gesture too.

When everything was ready, he returned to your shared bedroom with the twins in his arms. “Doll…” he called softly. “Wake up.”

You stirred, blinking your eyes open to find Bucky standing there, a baby in each arm and a sheepish smile on his face. Your gaze shifted to the twins’ outfits, and tears welled up as you read the words. “Oh, Bucky…”

“They insisted on dressing up for you,” he said with a grin, carefully handing Samuel to you while Natalia remained cradled in his metal arm.

You kissed each twin on the forehead, your heart swelling with love. “You did all this?”

“Of course!” he replied, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips. “But we’re just getting started.”

He led you to the kitchen, where breakfast was waiting. Pancakes, scrambled eggs, and fresh fruit. You raised an eyebrow, and Bucky gave you a sheepish smile.

“Fine, I didn’t make it. But I did make the coffee!” He gestured to the steaming mug sitting on the table, pride evident in his tone.

It was no secret that learning how to use the coffee machine had been a two-month ordeal. You took a sip, smiling up at him. “It’s perfect.”

After breakfast, he handed you a piece of paper. It had the twins’ tiny handprints in bright colors, alongside a handwritten note:

Doll, I know this journey hasn’t always been easy, but you’ve faced every challenge with care, kindness, strength, and so much love. Watching you with our kids has shown me what it truly means to have a family. Thank you for everything you do, for them, for me, for us. I love you more than words can say. —Yours always, Bucky

Tears spilled down your cheeks as you hugged him tightly. “You’re incredible.”

You couldn’t stop admiring the tiny, colorful handprints on the card. You traced the edges of the prints with your fingers, a soft laugh escaping your lips as you glanced at Bucky.

“Okay,” you said, looking at him with a curious smile. “How on earth did you get the twins to do this? I know they don’t sit still for more than two seconds.”

Bucky rubbed the back of his neck, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. “It… uh… wasn’t exactly easy, doll.” He leaned back in his chair, the memory of the ordeal making him chuckle.

“First, I had to find non-toxic paint that they wouldn’t try to eat. That took me, like, a solid hour. I kept hearing Sam’s voice in my head lecturing me about safety.” he added with a smirk. “Then I thought, ‘How hard could it be?’”

You raised an eyebrow, suppressing a laugh. “Famous last words.”

“Exactly.” He shook his head. “I spread out an old sheet in the living room and put them in their high chairs. I figured it would contain the chaos.”

“And?”

“And I was wrong.” he admitted, rolling his eyes at himself. “Sammy decided paint was better on his face than the paper. I turned around for one second, and he had a red handprint right in the middle of his forehead. Talia, on the other hand…” He paused, groaning. “She somehow managed to grab the paint cup and fling it across the room. The wall might still have a little blue on it.”

You burst out laughing, clutching your stomach. “Oh my god, Bucky!”

“Yeah, laugh it up,” he said with a mock glare, though his lips twitched in amusement. “By the time I wrestled the paint cup away from her, Sammy was clapping his hands together and splattering paint everywhere. I looked like I’d just come back from an art war zone.”

“Please tell me you took pictures?” you teased, wiping away tears of laughter.

“Absolutely not!” he deadpanned. “I was too busy trying to keep them from eating the paint or smearing it in each other’s hair. But eventually, I got them to cooperate. I held Sammy’s hand over the paper and pressed it down while humming to him and he loves that, you know.”

You nodded, your heart swelling at the thought of Bucky patiently singing to your son.

“And Talia…” He shook his head fondly. “That little troublemaker fought me the whole time. She kept trying to grab the paper instead of pressing her hand down. I think she was offended I wasn’t letting her ‘help.’”

You laughed again, picturing your strong-willed daughter glaring at Bucky with her tiny fists covered in paint.

“But after a lot of trial and error…” he continued, “and a lot of cleaning up, I finally got it done. I think I scrubbed paint off my arm for a full hour last night.”

You reached out and placed a hand on his cheek, your smile softening. “You went through all that just to make me feel special?”

“Of course,” he said, his voice tender. “You’re the best mom in the world, doll. You deserve it.”

Tears filled your eyes again as you leaned in to kiss him, your heart full of love for the man who’d gone to such lengths to celebrate you. “Thank you, Bucky. For everything.”

“Anything for you,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “And, uh, by the way…”

“What?” you asked looking at him.

“There’s one more thing,” he said, pulling out a small box. Inside was a delicate gold necklace, the locket engraved with his and the twins’ initials.

Your hand flew to your mouth as you admired the thoughtful gift. “Bucky…”

“Happy Mother’s Day, doll,” he murmured, wiping away your tears before kissing you gently.

You spent the rest of the day in a blissful haze, playing with the twins, laughing with Bucky, and feeling more loved than ever. It was a day you would never forget, a perfect celebration of the family you’d built together.

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[ellecdc]

head cold revelations

Finnick Odair x fem!reader who has a cold [980 words]

CW: sick fic, modern au, relationship is still early days, Finnick realizes he loves her and tells her so - completely self indulgent because I'm sick and somewhat delirious and I need Finnick fussing over me

Your entire existence was tension. Your throat: swollen. Your jaw: clenched. Your eyes: screwed shut. Your brows: furrowed. Hopelessly wound tight since you’d noticed the first telltale symptoms of your cold. 

Cool fingers pressed up against your head. A loving gesture with a question in it; are you okay?

You slept through your opportunity to answer, but it was the verbalization of his concern that woke you. 

“My poor girl.” 

You managed to open one eye first, and then the second; face to face with Finnick who still had his jacket on as he perched on the edge of the bed and looked down at you with no shortage of pity. 

You tried out his name but ended up choking on it, shoving your face into your pillow in an attempt to save him from your germs. 

You hummed appreciatively when his cool fingers settled at the nape of your neck.

“What are- did we have plans?” You croaked, turning your face back to Finnick who - if you weren’t mistaken - seemed somewhat bashful at your question.

“Well, you seemed somewhat…off over text yesterday and went to bed quite early for my little night owl.” He paused to smirk when you flushed at his accusation and then again at his endearment. “And by the time I got off work I realized I still hadn’t heard from you. I tried calling, but-”

“My phone.” You groaned, trying to sit up and failing miserably, allowing Finnick to settle you back down into your pillows. “I- it died, somewhere. And I couldn’t find it.” 

“How long have you been this sick, honey?” He asked, tone heavy under the weight of his sympathy as he brushed a few damp baby hairs away from your forehead with a gentle thumb. 

“I…I guess I woke up kind of sick yesterday.” You allowed, your hand circling Finnick’s wrist on its own volition, encouraging him to keep with his ministrations. “It’s gotten worse.”

“I’d say so.” He agreed. 

“Sorry for worrying you.”

His brows furrowed at that. “I’m sorry I didn’t check on you sooner, sweetheart. Makes me sad thinking you were sitting here all sickly with no one to dote on you.” 

“I’m not sickly.” You argued halfheartedly, knowing the nasally and grating quality of your voice disputed your claims. “M’just sick.” 

“M’kay.” Finnick appeased though he clearly didn’t agree with you. “I’d feel a lot better myself if you let me dote on you; would that be okay?”

“You don’t have to.” You tried. 

“Please?” He continued, and, really, how could you say no to him?

Finnick wondered if it wasn’t perhaps a touch inappropriate for him to show up at your apartment; the two of you were relatively new in your relationship, and while he did know where you hid your spare key, it’s not knowledge that he’d brought himself to use as of yet.

But you’d been short and nearly snarky with him yesterday over text which was very unusual for your sweet, usually sunny disposition. You’d mentioned being tired at nearly 6:30 in the evening and then promptly stopped replying. He woke up this morning, sent you a text as he often did, and by the time he got off of work you still hadn’t replied. When he tried calling and your phone went straight to voicemail, he was officially concerned. 

And then he found you in your bed, struggling to breathe through your nose and having minimal success in breathing through your mouth. Finnick had slept with you before, but apparently when you were sick you had a habit of mumbling and muttering in your sleep. 

He perched himself on the edge of your bed and gently brushed his fingers against your head, watching a divot appear between your brows as you murmured something that sounded an awful lot like his name. 

Once you agreed to let him stay, he tidied up your living room and kitchen and put on a pot of soup as the kettle came to a boil for some tea. It felt incredibly domestic; he loved it. 

He loved you. 

He was in love with you.

It was a revelation he expected to have one evening when the two of you were laughing at a show or movie, or when you were finishing up one of your dates and couldn’t bring yourselves to say goodbye, or when he woke up next to you in the early morning light. 

But the revelation came to him when he had you sitting at your own kitchen table, wrapped up in a throw blanket as you blinked blearily at the bowl in front of you; eyes half-lidded as focus and attention evaded you between your fever and congestion. 

He refrained from telling you, not wanting to freak you out when you were clearly in a vulnerable state, but he found his willpower fading as he watched you all but nodding off into your bowl of soup. 

“Guess I should’ve brought your dinner to you in bed, hm?” He asked you, earning him nothing more than a sleepy hum of agreement. He figured you’d probably agree with him if he told you he wanted to shave his head, too. 

“I love you.” He murmured, purposely quiet in hopes you didn’t hear, but felt his stomach clench when your eyes widened at his proclamation. 

In an attempt to save himself the mortifying ordeal of being known, he tried to dispel the weight of the moment by gently booping your chapped nose which - devastatingly - elicited a violent round of sneezes. 

“Fuck, honey I’m so sorry.” He cooed as they finally subsided, running back to the table with a box of tissues in his hand. 

“S’okay,” You sighed tiredly, holding a tissue to your nose and returning your cheek to your fist as you let your eyes fall closed again, “ ‘cause I love you too.” 

He'd have to tell you again when you were more lucid, even if you didn't say it back, just so that you knew he meant it.

[lxdymoon0357]

Hey how are you doing I hope. Can I request a yandere Phileo Boleoti x f reader. In which reader is leonia's assigned nanny. Phileo Boleoti from I become the male lead adopted daughter 😶‍🌫️

(Thank you for this request!! Warnings: mentions of child abuse, kidnapping, manipulation, using Leonia a manipulation bait, murder, isolation, starvation, accusations)

© Writing belongs to me, Lxdymoon0357. Do not plagiarize, but reblogging, liking and commenting is deeply appreciated.

Yandere! Phileo Boleoti X Nanny! Reader

╬ Phileo had of-course met you because you were Leonia's nanny..caring for the rambunctious kid of his who ran around, salivating over muscles. He had always been thankful to you sort of for keeping her out of trouble, he was usually so tired caring for her.

╬ It wasn't long before he was close with you, almost actually being friends and Leonia of-course caught on..she was weirdly smart like that. Teasing him for hours on end and almost revealing his feelings, but he kept her quiet with candies and stuff...thank the lord.

╬ Leonia was so excited when Phileo did eventually ask you out. She was adamant on planning everything and threatened to disown her dad if he hurt you. And eventually she was also the one to suggest the kidnapping and everything innocently as if it was a passing comment, but she utterly meant to give her father the suggestion to kidnap to keep you locked to her, she loves you! You're her mum now!

╬ Phielo is very protective, easy guess. Like Leonia, most people won't be fucking with you if they see the Boleoti family symbol on your clothing, coats or jewellery. You're forced into wearing them, Vera and Rupert are the one to make sure you're okay. Levipath is your guard when Leonia is spending time with you, making sure you're okay but above all also making sure Leonia won't get hurt by any outbursts you do out of loneliness, anger, sadness and stuff, she cannot afford it.

╬ But it doesn't mean he's nice all the time, he does have a few punishments, mostly soft ones like starving you for a day or two, but is face is just so intimidating, you don't get the easy habit of actually walking over his rules and lines. He's very strict and stern on rules, though he does let you free a bit on his rules, but he makes sure you follow it like a good girl.

╬ Phileo is very much adamant on having NO person who can admire you more than him, it's easier to haunt them down with accusations of breeding illegal monsters for exotic pet trade. He'll plant it on the person and their family, no mercy or remorse in his veins...The hell are they gonna do? Accuse the GRAND DUKE?! It has to be a deranged joke.

╬ Phileo sometimes feels it's too far, but he does use Leonia as a way to keep you locked down to him. You're bound to get connected to Leonia seeing how you're her nanny and also because she's a kid and you're gonna get protective, he'll use Leonia as a way to keep you tied to him as long as stockholm syndrome kicks in.

╬ There is no way he's going to let you go, that much is easy to tell. He'll literally put you on blacklist with a criminal record on abusing kids so no one will hire you as a nanny so even if you escape, you will not last long in the world without a job as a nanny. He'll make sure you have no one else but him and Leonia in your life. Accusations, crime record, he'll do anything in his power to keep you as down as possible.

╬ Leonia is also smart enough, being old enough..she'll go with anything her father tells her to, she'll listen to everything he says, manipulate you even more since you're her nanny and all. She isn't actually allowed to spend too much time with you now though, just for her safety in Phileo's opinion until you're utterly used to this lifestyle, Leonia has a new nanny whom she does not like AT ALL!

╬ Phileo has few trusted people to even interact with you, with a few maids. Those people don't even include Rupert, only Vera, Levipath and Leonia to interact with you. Rupert might agree to not see you for his own safety since he know a little mistake could risk his life too even as Phileo's dear friend. He didn't want it, and he didn't want to involve himself, though he does serve you seriously and makes sure you're living normally.

╬ Phileo often takes his competition to his monster expeditions and kills them there, if they are somewhere in his guard-ship or his staff, or they plant crimes on the person, like I said about illegally breeding monsters for illegal exotic pet trade, but other types of crimes as well, if they are someone else. He is not afraid to even plant crimes or dig up as much dirt as possible on other nobles.

╬ Vera like to keep you in line for honor and image of the Boleoti, she's possibly the only Phileo trusts you with, he even trusts her to raise her hand on you if it meant to keep you in line, somehow. Of-course Vera only hit you if you're like VERY out of line and disobedient, she'll use your trauma against you, if you have any, but he usually doesn't, she's a calm woman for the lady of the house after all.

[queen-of-the-avengers]

Keeper of my Heart

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~3.6k

Warnings: mostly fluff

Summary: You live in a world where people’s hearts are kept in pocket watches to give to that one special person. You go through life thinking you’ll never find the one when you run into Bucky one fateful night.

Square Filled: au: steampunk (2020) for @buckybarnesbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

“How about this one?”

You walk out of the closet wearing the dress you wore for Homecoming in high school. It’s purple, goes down to your knees, and is strapless. You lost some weight since then so the dress fits you not snug like a glove but good enough for this blind date. Vanessa looks at you and shakes her head.

“Why do you still have that dress? Throw it away. That’s like you’re saying high school was a peak for you.”

“Then I don’t know what to wear. I haven’t been on a date since Mario, and I don’t know what to do. Maybe I shouldn’t go,” you sigh.

“You’re thirty-one, Y/N, and you still own your heart. It’s time you find someone to give it to.” You groan as you walk back into your closet, already annoyed by the story you know is coming. “As you know, I gave my heart away when I was eighteen to Vaughn. Oh, it was magical. Sure I was dating him all throughout high school, but I took one look in his eyes and knew. He was the person I was meant to spend the rest of my life with. I look at you and become sad that you don’t have that person to share things with. You live alone.”

“Thanks for that very touching story that I definitely haven’t heard before,” you say sarcastically, “but I’ll be fine.”

You walk out of the closet wearing a different dress. It flows all around you loosely, has pink flowers on it, and has puffy sleeves that go down to your wrists. It’s very flattering, and judging by the way Vanessa’s eyes light up, you found the one.

“You’re my little sister, Y/N. I will always worry about you.”

“I know.” You smooth down your hair and start looking around your room for something. “Now if I can only find my heart. Where did I put the damn thing?”

You look on your messy vanity desk but it’s not there. You fling clothes out of your closet looking for the damn thing. You’re always losing your heart which is not a good thing. If something bad happens to it…

“It’s on your bed, Y/N,” Vanessa sighs.

You walk over to your bed and pick up the delicate pocket watch. You open it and stare at your heart beating rhythmically inside. When people are born, they are born with their hearts in a sac outside of their bodies. Doctors then provide a pocket watch to put the hearts in, something that will protect it always. Everyone outgrows their first pocket watch, so parents gift their children new ones every few years to keep up with their growing organs. By the time someone turns eighteen, their heart is at the biggest it will ever get, so they get one pocket watch and stick with that one for years, decades even.

Everyone goes through life looking for their special someone. Time and time again, you’ve heard stories of people finding true love and giving their hearts over. It’s supposed to be magical. Vanessa never misses an opportunity to tell the story of how and why she gave her heart to Vaughn. Your mother gave her heart at a young age, and your friends have already given their hearts over.

You’re the only one who hasn’t found your one true love or whatever shit people say these days. You’re not good at dating, and you seem to mess up every relationship you’ve ever been in. With Mario, you thought he was the one until you accused him of cheating. He broke things off with you and made you feel bad about accusing him like that. 

Turns out he was cheating on you, and you haven’t been on a date since.

Vanessa found someone at her work to set you up with, and you agreed only to keep from hearing her annoying story again. You close the pocket watch and place it inside your small handbag. Vanessa sees you out, and you drive to the bar to meet Jerry, her coworker. You’ve heard a few stories about him but not enough to develop an opinion. Maybe this date will go well. Maybe Jerry might be the one.

You enter the bar and find Jerry already at a table sporting a tall glass of beer. He smiles when he sees you, and you’re suddenly cautious of the way your legs look in the dress.

“You must be Y/N,” he smiles with unbelievably white teeth.

“Yeah. You’re Jerry,” you chuckle nervously.

“Thanks for agreeing to meet me with me. I know how blind dates usually go. Vanessa has told me so much about you.”

“I don’t know if I should be scared or not.”

“Don’t worry, it’s all good things.”

Jerry seems pretty cool, and you two hit it off from the start. This might be looking like the date is going well until about three drinks in.

“So, Vanessa never told me what you do.”

“Oh, I work at the local bookstore, A Thousand Lives.”

“Yeah, but what do you want to do in life?”

The question makes your hands clammy. Your voice drops a few tones. “I work at a bookstore.”

“You want to do that for the rest of your life?”

You open your mouth to respond but nothing comes out of it. Do you? You love working there. You’re surrounded by a thousand little lives and amazing stories.

“I guess I never really thought about it. I like writing but that’s something on the side. I don’t do it a lot.”

“So, you have no ambition?”

Suddenly, you don’t feel like being here with Jerry. This needs a change of topic. “What do you do? I mean, I know Vanessa works with you but she didn’t really touch on it.”

“I work in finance. I’m one of our top accountants. I’m quickly earning my place on the boards. I hope to be CEO one day.”

“That’s amazing. I hope you get it.”

He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out his pocket watch. “I hope to give this to someone special one day.”

“I have one too.” You put your purse on the table and sift through the contents. “Fuck, where did I put it?” you laugh nervously. “Sorry, Jerry. Give me a second.”

Jerry sighs and pockets his watch again. “I gotta go.”

“No, wait.” You practically dump half your purse onto the table before finding the watch. “I found it.”

You look up but Jerry isn’t sitting across from you anymore. In fact, he left the bar. You sigh sadly and put the watch back into your purse. You should have stayed home. After cleaning the table of your things, you walk to the back where the bathrooms are. This is the last time you have Vanessa set you up with anything. Maybe it’s fate that you end up alone. Just you and your books.

After you’re done, you walk out of the bathroom with your eyes on your phone. You’re not looking where you’re going and end up knocking into someone. Your purse falls and all of the contacts scatter across the ground.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” you gasp.

You look up and notice dark blue eyes. Dark, short hair. A strong jawline that’s covered in facial hair. Slight freckles on his face. Bulging muscles. Fuck, he’s attractive.

“No, I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s my fault,” you mutter and drop your knees.

The stranger gets on his knees to help you pick up your things. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.” Your hand brushes his when you grab your things from him, and heat floods your body from the slight contact. “I’m Bucky.”

“Y/N.”

“Are you here with someone?” he asks when you two stand.

“I was just leaving, actually. Not really my scene. It was nice to meet you, Bucky. I’m sorry, again.”

You blush and duck out of view before he has a chance to say anything back. Bucky watches you leave the bar, his mind already fuzzy with the thought of you. A stranger but he finds himself wanting to know you more. After using the bathroom, he walks out and notices something shiny on the floor in the hallway.

A pocket watch. It’s delicate, a reminder that it’s fragile yet heavy and sturdy enough to protect the heart that’s inside. Some people put their names on it in case they ever get lost, but there isn’t a name on this. Bucky opens it and sees the precious heart beating. He can’t just leave it here, and he doesn’t trust the owner of the bar enough to leave it with him.

He pockets the watch and leaves the bar.

After your date with Jerry, you tried avoiding your sister as much as possible. You declined her calls and refused to see her, claiming you were busy with work. A couple of days go by with you working at the bookstore when Vanessa walks in with determination on her face.

“Shit,” you mutter under your breath.

“Way not to call me back.”

“I’m busy with work.”

She looks around the empty bookstore. “Clearly.”

“What do you want?”

“How did the date go? Did you and Jerry hit it off?”

“He’s not the one for me.” She opens her mouth to protest but you cut her off. “I’m not good at this whole thing, and he seemed a little too arrogant for my taste.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll find someone else for you.”

“No, Vanessa. I don’t need your help. I appreciate it but this is something I have to do alone.”

“Fine.”

You just don’t know how to tell her that you might be alone for the rest of your life.

Bucky walks into his home, tired from the day’s events. He shuffles into his room and yanks off his police belt before tossing it on the bed. His precinct just got a new Captain, and he hasn’t been exactly welcoming to the team. All he needs is a hot shower, some food, and a good night’s rest.

He sits on his bed and allows himself ten minutes of blissful silence, but that’s when he hears it.

A heart beating.

He takes out the pocket watch he found and opens it. Still beating. It doesn’t even know it’s missing from its owner. He’d give anything to know who this belongs to. Bucky reaches into the drawer beside his bed and takes out his own pocket watch. Both hearts are beating but out of sync.

Beat. Beat.

Beat. Beat.

Beat… 

The two hearts find rhythm together and start beating at the same time. Suddenly, every bone in Bucky’s body starts relaxing. He doesn’t even know who the heart belongs to, but he feels safe with it. He feels like whoever this belongs to wouldn’t judge him or the mistakes he’s made in the past. The steady beat of both hearts is enough to lull Bucky to sleep… still in his uniform.

It’s only the next day when you notice it’s missing. You just about turned your house upside down trying to find it. Your heart is missing. Vanessa is on her way over to your place right now as soon as she gets the frantic call from you.

“I’m here!” she announces when she walks inside. She pauses at the state of your house. “Whoa. Y/N?”

“In my bedroom!”

She steps over the fallen pieces of furniture and walks into your room which is even messier. “Wow, you didn’t waste any time.”

“I lost my heart, Nessa! If I show up to Mom’s without it, I’ll be ridiculed. Like I need to give her yet another reason to be disappointed in me,” you sigh.

“Don’t freak out yet. When was the last time you had it?”

“At the bar with Jerry. I bumped into this guy and my purse fell, but I could have sworn I picked it up. It could be anywhere by now. If it gets damaged…”

You let the sentence hang unfinished. If a heart is damaged, the owner can get really sick or die depending on what the damage was.

“Don’t worry. We’ll go down to the police station and report it missing. These things have trackers on them.”

“The new ones do, Nessa. When we were born… They don’t have trackers in them.”

“It’s okay. It’s going to be fine. Come on, I’ll drive.”

Bucky walks into work feeling better than he has in years. He doesn’t remember a time when he slept and didn’t have nightmares. It’s all because of that heart he found. He should have reported it missing and posted something on local social media sites, but he can’t seem to part with it. What if the person doesn’t like him? What if the person hates him for stealing it? He’d never let anything bad happen to it which is why he carries it with him everywhere.

Right where a heart should be.

“Damn, Bucky, you look refreshed.” Bucky looks at his best friend and partner, Steve. They both joined the force right out of high school. “Did you get laid?”

“No, I just had the best sleep last night. No nightmares.”

Bucky walks to his desk and gets started on the paperwork he left last night. After about two hours sitting at his desk, he grabs his empty coffee mug and heads to the break room. He passes by the front door to get to it, not seeing you and Vanessa walking toward the building. He disappears into the break room at the same time you enter, and you look around the precinct for someone to help.

There is a blond man at his desk with his eyes on his phone, and you decide he’s the officer you want helping you. Everyone else looks busy.

“Excuse me, Officer?”

He looks up and puts his phone away. “What can I do for you ladies?”

“I’d like to report something stolen… missing… whatever. It’s my heart. I don’t know where it is.”

“What makes you think it’s stolen… missing… or whatever?” You give Officer Rogers your statement about the entire night you knew you had it. Meeting Jerry, showing it off, and bumping into someone. “Alright, I’ll look into this. I’ll give you a call if I find something.”

There’s not much you can do except wait, so you and Vanessa leave with a sinking feeling in your chests. The second you leave the precinct, Bucky walks out of the break room and heads to his desk with a fresh cup of coffee.

Instead of going to your mom’s for dinner, you decide to stay at work the whole time. It’s better than being at her place and being judged for not finding your “one” yet. You’re always being compared to Vanessa or your cousins since they’re all in successful relationships and you’re not.

You’re sitting behind the counter playing a game on your phone when the bell rings, signaling someone walked into the bookstore. You look up and meet familiar dark blue eyes.

“Bucky, hi,” you smile.

“You remember me?”

“You’re kind of hard to forget,” you mumble with a smile. “What are you doing here?”

“I was wondering if you had a certain book in store. The Giving Tree. My niece’s birthday is coming up, and she loves that book.”

“Yeah, it’s upstairs in the kid section.”

Bucky nods and walks off but comes back seconds later. “I always get lost. Will you show me?”

You smile and step away from your desk. You look at Bucky’s uniform in thought.

“I didn’t know you were a cop.”

“We only talked for three minutes,” Bucky laughs.

“Fair point. Do you like being an officer?”

“Love it, actually. I love being able to help people and bring justice to those who need it.”

“That’s very honorable. Better than being in this bookstore, I imagine.”

“Now don’t sell yourself short. This is a good place to work. You’re a guardian for a thousand worlds.”

“I actually haven’t heard that one before. Thanks,” laugh.

You and Bucky find yourselves lost in conversation even though you showed Bucky where the book was several minutes ago. You’re both single, you both prefer alone time rather than the bars, and you both love reading. Eventually, you have to go back downstairs to check him out even though you don’t want the conversation to stop.

“I hope this isn’t too forward but you’re very easy to talk to. I can tell you’re a good guy.”

Bucky leans on the counter with a dazzling smile. “Would you like to go to dinner with me tomorrow? I can pick you up.”

“I’d love to,” you grin.

That’s the start of your relationship with Bucky. It doesn’t matter if you’re in your small bookstore or at a crowded restaurant, he makes everyone around you two disappear. All your problems melt away when you’re with him, and you think he feels the same about you. A few months pass of flirty comments and romantic dates when you think about asking him to be your boyfriend, to be in a more serious relationship.

Bucky can’t contain his happiness even at work, and Steve watches him with a slight smile on his face. It’s been a long time since he’s seen his friend be this happy.

“She makes me happy, Steve. I want to ask her to be my girlfriend.”

“Are you having any more nightmares? Even from my apartment, I could hear your screams.”

“They’ve gone away. Ever since I found that heart, I’ve been sleeping better.”

“What?”

“What?” Bucky asks in confusion.

“A few months ago, Y/N came into the precinct to report a missing heart. You never mentioned it before, and I’ve been waiting for the owners to get back to me with the footage inside the bar. I was just about to look at it.”

Bucky gets up and walks behind Steve so that he can see the video. Steve takes out the flash drive that’s on his desk and plugs it into his computer. Footage of the bar comes up on screen, and Steve fast-forwards it to the night you were there with Jerry. There is only one camera pointed at the main dining area, so they can only see the back of your head and Jerry’s face. 

Thirty minutes go by when he leaves, leaving you all alone. You leave to go the bathroom and Steve switches to the camera that’s in the hallway where the bathrooms are. When you leave, you end up bumping into Bucky and your purse falls to the ground. Something clunky rolls away from you two and skirts to a stop in the corner.

Forgotten about. Left for anyone to find. Left for Bucky to find. Your heart.

After you leave, Bucky ends up picking the heart. Bucky reaches into his breast pocket and pulls out the heart he’s come to be so fond of.

“This is hers?” Bucky whispers.

“You know what you’ve got to do.”

Right before your shift ends, Bucky walks into the bookstore wearing dark jeans, a black button-up, and a black jacket. He looks so devilishly handsome.

“Hi, Bucky,” you greet. You lean forward and kiss him across the counter. “I’m just about finished with my shift.”

“Okay,” he nods.

“Are you okay? You look nervous.”

“I’m okay. I’ll wait until you’re done.”

You finish putting away the last of the books back on the shelves before changing into your date night clothes. It’s a simple sundress that stops at your knees. Perfect for the warm weather outside.

“I’m ready,” you grin.

There is a restaurant that was built right next to a calming river that Bucky takes you to. You’ve wanted to come here but you didn't want to go alone. Bucky gets a table near the river so you can enjoy the sound of trickling water while you eat. After the waitress takes your drink orders, Bucky clears his throat.

“Okay, why do you look so nervous?”

“I want to ask you something but I can’t knowing I have something of yours.”

“Of mine? What is it?” Bucky takes out your pocket watch from his jacket and you gasp softly when you see it. “I’ve been looking for that for months. I thought I lost it. Where did you find it?”

“At the bar when you ran into me.”

“You’ve had this for months?”

“I didn't know it was yours until this morning. This is mine.” Bucky takes out his pocket watch and opens both of them. They’re still beating in sync like they belong together. They only do that when you’ve found the one. “I’ll give you yours back but what I’d really like to do is give you mine. You make the… The first night I took this home, I didn't have any nightmares. I’ve been having them since I was a teenager. You make them go away.”

“Bucky,” you whisper.

“I know it’s selfish bringing this up but I really like you. I was going to come here and ask you to be my girlfriend. It was supposed to be this whole thing, but I understand if your answer changes knowing I’ve had your heart the entire time.” You stare at him like he has three heads, and he sighs. “Am I messing this up?”

You grin after a few seconds. “No. I’m usually the one who messes it up.”

He reaches across the table and grabs your hand. “What I feel for you, I’ve never felt about anyone else. Will you be my girlfriend?”

“Yes,” you say without hesitation.

He slides his pocket watch over to you. “This belongs to you now.”

You grab it and hold it close to your chest. “I’ll cherish it always.”

You make a vow there and now that you’ll never misplace a pocket watch ever again.

x

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[daddysfangirls-marvel]

Cereal

Bucky Barnes x Single Mom! Reader

The Boy looks upon the many shelves of cereal. Some are bland, some are sugary, and others are healthy. Some have cartoon characters on the box, and many have real-life heroes. With all these heroes, he still couldn't find his. The boy sighed, his lips quivering. He wipes his eyes before his tears even begin to slip.

"Honey?" his mother called for him.

"He's not here," His voice shakes and tears spilling over.

"What do you mean?" she asked as she gently moved him to the side out of the way of after customers.

"H-he doesn't have o-one." He points to the shelves as he begins to cry. She tucks his face into her stomach as she takes a look at the shelves for herself. And her boy was right, his hero was not amongst those on the shelve.

"I'm sorry," she tried to rub his back, providing some comfort. " We'll look at different stores. Don't worry."

"No," he cried. This was the third store in a week, and they still hadn't found it. He was tired, and he knew they weren't going to find it. Frustratedly, he snatched off his prosthetic arm and tossed it down the aisle. ( Moments like this made her grateful she bought plastic).

"Absolutely not. We don't throw things." The round of gasps and how quickly the aisle emptied told her all she needed to know. They would not be making any purchases here today.

Wiping his tears, she stood up to retrieve the arm, only to find a man holding it.

"Excuse me, that's my son's." He was a tall, big man in a baseball cap, thick coat, and leather gloves. And in those gloved hands was her son's prosthetic.

He hands it to her, and she gives him a small thanks.

"How'd he lose it? If- If you don't mind me asking?"

She took a deep breath. This was going to go one of two ways. The educational route and she'd possibly teach this man something new or bashing route, and this man would get disrespectful, and she'd probably have to call security or the police.

"He didn't lose it. He was born without." She moved to her son, tucking him into her side. His cries had stopped, but his tears were still streaming.

"I ....there was an accident and lost mine." The man said, massaging his left hand. She didn't understand why he was telling them this. But she did appreciate him sharing a piece of him. " Why is he crying?"

"He has a favorite hero. He's like him, and we were trying to find his cereal or his snack or... just anything with him on it. We can't seem to find him anywhere."

"May I?" the man asked, motioning to her son, asking permission to approach him. She granted it and watched as he kneeled in front of her son, who was still tucked into her side. His tears had dried, and he seemed to be in ...awe?

It wasn't until the man removed his gloves, then cap, that she realized who he was, and she felt like an idiot. She had been researching this man with every free moment she had ever since her son declared him to be his favorite and just like him. And she couldn't tell the difference between him on stage and him in a baseball cap.

Embarrassing.

"Hi, my name is Bucky, what's yours?"

Her son whispered his name as he blushed. " That's a cool arm you got their bud."

"I have another one that's cooler. It has space on it," he said as his mother kneeled, putting it back on his elbow.

"That does sound cooler. Mine doesn't really have anything on it." Bucky said, pulling up his sleeve to show off his metal appendage. The son gasped in amazement as he stepped forward, his little fingers reaching and tracing the gold and black plates. The man watched him carefully as he touched and stayed very still.

She would have corrected her son's rude behavior any other time, but right now, with the awe on his face and the smile on Mr. Barnes's face, she didn't want to interrupt. Plus, she was as in awe as the fluorescent lights made it shine—both the arm and his smile.

"A friend made it for me. It's made of a special metal called vibranum."

"Like your friend's shield?" He whispered as he pulled away.

"Exactly," he whispered in return as he stood up. She stood up as well.

"Thank you, Mr. Barnes. That was very kind of you, and we really appreciate it."

Bucky is fine, Mrs?" he said.

"(Y/n), (Y/n) (L/n). No, Mrs. No husband," she regretted the words as soon as they came out of her mouth. But that didn't shut her up. " There is no one else. Just me. Just us."

Bucky gave a soft smile and nodded. " I'm sorry to hear that." He didn't look or sound sorry. "Listen, Um, I volunteer at this rehab for kids, and they have a lot of programs there, so if your son wanted, he could come join." Bucky pulled out a flyer from his pocket, unfolded it, and handed it over to her. It looked to be a place for physically disabled children.

"This looks nice, actually. Thank you."

"Yeah, no problem. My number is on the back if you need any help with the program or stuff. or just ... Want to hang out ." Bucky cringed on how that came, but she just smiled and laughed. She turned the flyer over to see his number was indeed on the back.

"Oh"

"Hopefully, I'll see you two there."

"Definitely, I mean, yes. We'll be there, won't we, buddy."

"Will you be there?" The boy asked.

"As long as the world doesn't need saving, I'm there every other afternoon."

"Hopefully, the world doesn't need saving when we come by." she teased.

"Even if it did, I'm sure the others could handle it on their own. I wouldn't leave a doll like you waiting."

Doll.

Doll. She didn't know how, but with a single word, the man nearly put her on her knees. Suddenly, her heart had quickened, and her legs were shaky. And the way he bit his lips after and looked her up and down. Was he trying to devour her with such a stare? When did the atmosphere change?

A little squeak brought them both back to reality and reminded them of their little audience. No flirting in front of the babies.

"We'll be there, Mr. B...Bucky. We'll be there." Taking her son's hand, she turned to leave before stopping and saying, " I'll call."

"I'm looking forward to it."

"Bye-bye," the boy waved to his hero with a big grin on his face. As he watched them walk away. His cereal crisis was long forgotten.

[loomiseater]

Ride it like a cowgirl

warnings: smut ofc!, intercourse, unprotected sex, riding, cocky Tyler, pet names (baby & princess), and slight daddy kink.

Criticism is appreciated! I would love to know how I can improve on my writing.

Tyler Owens x fem!reader

A/N: This is so random but I had a dream I was dating glen powell 😭 so I guess this is the main reason why I wrote this. Also, Merry Christmas!!! This is a lil gift from me😏🤭.

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Written: August 15th- December 25th, 2024

Published: December 25th, 2024

Summary: Tyler needs you to apologize.

wc: 1,164

He finally pulled up into the parking lot, still silent. He just sat there and stared ahead of him. I scoffed at his childish behavior as I got out the car, slamming the door as hard as I can. He’s such a big baby at times.

I put my phone in back pocket before I began unlocking my door. I’m glad we got separate rooms because I don’t wanna see him right now. I laid on the bed for a bit just daydreaming before I finally got up and took a shower. I washed off all the sweat and all that dirt from the rodeo. That Oklahoma heat is no joke.

I finally finished with my shower, getting out, drying myself off, then moisturizing. Nothing beats the feeling of having soft skin after the shower so I used some baby oil and eos vanilla lotion. After that, I placed on a matching bra and panties set, them throwing my robe on top. As I was walking out the bathroom, I heard my room door open.

What the fuck?

It was Tyler. How the hell did he get in here? The door was locked.

He sat down on the bed before speaking up. “Next time time lock your door, princess.” He said as I tilted my head. “It was locked..” I responded. I stood in front of him as he took his cowboy hat off. I know I’m supposed to be pissed at him..but he looks so good.

He grabbed my waist, forcing me to sit on his lap. I just looked at him waiting for him to speak. “I think you owe me an apology.” He sternly said. I scoffed at his sentence. Who the hell does he think is? “I owe YOU an apology?!” I questioned with wide eyes. He nodded his head as if he was so sure.

“You’re an ass!” I scoffed. I pushed myself off his lap but his grip tightened and kept me down. I cocked an eyebrow at him as he licked his lips. Fuck, he’s so hot when he does that. “You ride my dick right now..and I’ll forgive you.” His voice was thick and deep, coated with lust. My body twitched a bit from his seductive words.

He could tell, he chuckled and my small movement. All I could do was stutter before he started undoing my robe, letting it fall to the ground. He sucked in his breath as he got a look at my breasts in the black lace bra. “My favorite bra.” He lowly said before he placed a kiss to my exposed chest. A soft moan left my mouth from the kiss.

I’m supposed to be mad at him but I can’t help it. My core is wet and aching for him. We made eye contact as he brought his fingers down to my panties, he moved them to the side a bit and started rubbing my clit. “Tyler!” I moaned as I fell into his chest. I felt the vibrations on his chest as he chuckled at my reaction.

“You’re soaked.” He said as he dipped a finger inside me. My body jolted as his other hand gripped my waist, keeping me on his lap. He started pumping his finger in and out of me as I was moaning on his lap. “Look at your juices, all over my fingers, princess, taste it.” He said softly. He pulled his fingers from my core and slowly pushed them into my mouth. I moaned around his fingers, tasting my juices, it oddly tasted good. I see why he likes eating me out.

I felt his cock harden underneath me in his jeans. He pulled his fingers out of my mouth slowly as he eyed me. “Tyler, please!” I begged. I never needed him so bad before. But more core was aching for his cock. I need him.

“What’d you want? You want my cock? Hm?” He teasingly asked as I quickly nodded my head. “Good girl. You gonna ride it good f’me?” He asked. “Yes, daddy!” I moaned in his ear. He smirked as he started unbuckling his big belt. He pulled his jeans down and I hurriedly pulled his boxers down a bit, just enough so his cock was out.

“You’ll look sexier with the cowboy hat on.” He said before he placed it on me. I giggled as I placed his tip in me, rubbing it against my clit before sinking all the way down on it. Tyler was breathless, letting out a grunt from my tightness. “Shit!” I said to myself before taking him out and placing him back in me.

I wrapped my arms around his neck as I started to build a pace, bouncing on him. I was bouncing up and down slowly on him as he squinted his eyes. I smirked at the little moan he let out, I love knowing I’m the only woman who can get him like this. “You like that, baby?” I teasingly asked. “Yes!” He grunted, looking down at the source of pleasure.

I started rocking back and forth as he slapped my ass, making me whine loudly. “You ride it just like a cowgirl.” He said before gripping my hips and flipping us down on the bed, now in missionary. “Only for you.” I moaned into his mouth as he kissed me deeply while thrusting into me. His hips snapped into me as my nails dug in his back.

“You’re so big!” I cried out. “I know baby.” He cockily said with a smirk on his lips as he placed a kiss to my neck. He now started giving me slow, yet powerful strokes. My eyes rolled back and my legs were starting to shake. “Almost there, princess.” He said in my ear as I whined in response. “You gonna cum for me? Hmm?” He questioned as my legs wrapped around his stomach tightly, along with my cunt squeezing him.

I came on his dick as I screamed loudly from my orgasm. Tyler’s thrusts became sloppier as his dick twitched and he came inside me. I threw my head back as he fell on top of me.

We were both breathless and panting. “You have no idea what you do to me, princess.” He sighed as I giggled.

My giggles then stopped as my eyes widened.

“You just came inside me!” I shouted. Tyler shrugged his shoulders. “I always cum in you.” He stated.

“I’m not on the pill right now!” I practically screamed as his eyes now widened.

“Oh shit!” He said as placed his face in my neck.

[elixirfromthestars]

Tangled Up In You

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Avenger!Reader

Summary: When you and Steve get tasked with decorating the living room of the Avengers Compound, it seems like the perfect opportunity to spend some time with your crush. However, a certain tangled mess of lights would prove to make decorating a bit more difficult than you had anticipated.

Word Count: 1.5k

Warning(s): none. pure fluff. established nickname -> angel

Prompt/Event: @the-slumberparty december daze -> putting up christmas lights isn't as easy as it looks

a/n: And the secret is out! ₊˚⊹☆ This little winter drabble event was started because I wanted to do some gift giving for the holiday season. ˚୨୧⋆｡ So this fluffy fic is my holiday gift to you my dear Jo!! @neverthatsirius-jo ♡ I know how much you adore Steve, so I knew I had to write something for him just for you!! Thank you for reading! ₊˚⊹♡ Likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated!! ♡♡♡

main masterlist ♡ || fluffy winter drabbles masterlist ❆

You grumble an incoherence under your breath, stepping back and looking at the piles of cardboard boxes littering the living room of the Avengers Compound. Each one is filled with various holiday decorations you and Steve have been “tasked” adorning the living room with. 

Last night, during the team’s weekly game night, it was decided that the two people who lost the most games by the end of the night would be stuck with the responsibility of decorating the only undecorated room left in the Compound—the living room. 

Unfortunately—or maybe fortunately for you—you and Steve were the two losers of the night. You didn’t mind having to decorate on your day off, and you certainly didn’t mind spending the afternoon with Steve. He was one of your closest friends—a friend you have been secretly crushing on for months. You were hoping that this time together could help you muster up the courage to finally ask him out on a date.

Fingers crossed that, unlike last night, luck would be on your side when asking him. 

While Steve brought in the remaining boxes from the storage room, you were going through each of the cardboard boxes to try and get an idea of what you had to work with. This was your first holiday season at the Compound, so you didn’t have last year's decor to reference back on.

You make your way over to one of the larger cardboard boxes, one whose height goes up to your waist. You notice the word lights scribbled on the side of it in black permanent marker before you open it. Inside, as you expected, are an abundance of Christmas lights. All an extensive tangled web of cords and bulbs. You couldn’t tell how many sets of lights were inside, but you did know whoever stored them previously did so without a care in the world. Now, they were left in a mangled knot you’d have to find the patience to undo.

Maybe luck wasn’t on your side today…

You huff as you begin pulling the strands of lights out of the box. Your eyes go wider by the second as they appear to be never-ending. Almost as if you were pulling the lights from a magician’s hat, yards upon yards of string poured out. It made you wonder if Wanda had enchanted the box for it to have been able to fit so much.

By the time the box was empty, you were in the midst of the pile of lights, carefully trying to make a path by sweeping the cords on the ground with your foot. This backfires on you quickly as the cords end up around your ankles. When you try to free them, your wrists somehow end up joining in on the vine-like restriction.

The pattern of you trying to free yourself from the web of lights only to end up getting more entrapped by them continues until you can no longer discern where you start and where the lights end. You don’t know whether to laugh or cry at the ridiculous situation you have gotten yourself into.

“I think there’s only—” Steve's words freeze in midair along with himself as he walks into the living room and sees the predicament you’re in. The Christmas lights cover you from head to toe as if you had been decorating yourself in them. His eyes sparkle with amusement, but he keeps his lips in a tight line to stop himself from laughing. 

“Y/n, how did you…?”

“Please help.” 

Embarrassment bubbles within every ounce of you—to say the least—and with no dignified explanation of how you got like this, you look everywhere but at Steve. Staring intently at the ground when he sets down the boxes in his arms and carefully makes his way over to you. 

“I think you took out the lights Tony used last year to outline the roof. That’s why there’s so many of them,” Steve explains kindly as a way to make you feel better, delicately pulling at the lights around your body to find the ones easiest to take off of you first. Your eyes slowly make their way to meet his baby blue ones. Your embarrassment melts away at the gentle way he’s staring at you—no judgment in sight. However, you don’t miss the way the corners of his lips twitch as he holds back a smile.

“You can laugh, it's okay. This is pretty funny.”

“I’m not going to laugh at you, angel.” 

“Laugh with me then.”

The nickname he uses only for you is enough to bring a smile to your face, but when a few light chuckles leave his lips at your permission—your smile widens until your soft laughter joins his.

What happens next will forever be unexplainable to both of you. Somehow, in the midst of trying to untangle you, the string of lights find themselves around Steve’s chest constricting his movement. You try to help him, but you’re not in the best position to. So from here on out, you go back and forth trying to help one another only to end up enveloped further by the lights. 

You both laugh it off until you realize how close the lights have tangled you to each other. If you step any closer you’d be pressed up against Steve, the mere possibility sends your heart racing. Your nerves get the better of you, attempting to step back only to almost slip backward if it weren’t for Steve reaching out to catch you before you did. 

Ultimately, pressing you up against him so you wouldn’t fall. 

“You alright, angel?” He asks you tentatively, scanning you over as if you had fallen. 

You nod slowly, the words getting caught in your throat at his proximity. The scent of his cologne, an earthy spice that is mixed with something that is entirely him fills your senses, causing the butterflies in your stomach to flutter dreamily.

Your eyes gravitate to his lips and when they do his breath hitches. Your gaze shoots up to meet his and in his pretty blues you swear you see the same desire you hold. 

You’re dying to kiss him, and you think he is too.

Steve’s eyes lock on your lips, and that’s all the confirmation you need to gather the courage to pull him in for a kiss. It starts hesitant, yet sweet, both of you testing the waters of what it feels like to kiss one another. It doesn’t take long for Steve to deepen the kiss, wanting to pour his feelings for you out in the open. The dilemma of the lights is long forgotten as the kiss consumes all of your thoughts. 

The snapping sound of a phone camera isn’t enough to break the kiss, but the flash that follows it is. You look over to see Bucky smirking proudly at the sight of his best friend kissing you and Sam making fun of Bucky for not knowing how to take a photo without the flash on. 

“Seriously, you two?” Steve shakes his head at his friends, his cheeks rosy with a hint of bashfulness at the way his best friends are acting. You can feel your face getting hot as well, knowing there was no way you were ever going to live down getting tangled up in Christmas lights with Steve. 

As for the picture of the kiss…you were definitely going to ask Bucky for a copy later.

When you tune back into their conversation, Sam has a shit-eating grin on his face, “You should make that this year's Christmas card.” 

“Sam!”

You giggle at Sam’s teasing and at Steve’s attempt at scolding him. Steve seems mortified until he notices the way you don’t seem to mind the teasing. He stares at you with a fond expression, wanting more than anything to be alone with you again.

“Don’t you two have chores to do? Y/n and I are kind of busy here,” Steve motions to the web of lights that cover you and him from head to toe. Despite that, the twinkle of mischief in Sam’s eyes tells you he’s not done with either of you yet. 

“Kissing or decorating?”

“Sam!”

After a few more rounds of teasing that leave Steve wondering when the earth will swallow him whole, Sam and Bucky finally retreat—leaving him alone with you once more.

“I’m sorry about that. I’ll make it up to you angel—I promise,” Steve apologizes to you, an endearing embarrassment on his features. You shake your head with a soft smile, intending to tell him not to worry about it until an idea pops into your head. 

“How about you make it up to me tomorrow? We can check out that new coffee place down on Orchard if you’d like,” you suggest, your heart beating wildly in your chest as you await his answer. He lights up at your suggestion, “I’d love to. It’s a date then?” That last part comes out as a whispered question, wondering if you’d see it the same way he did. 

“It’s a date,” you confirm, moving against the restricting lights enough to place a soft kiss on his cheek. 

So it seems luck was on your side all along after all.

[hsnlv]

promised & found | s.jy

req!: also if you're taking requests...idk i've been thinking abt idol jake and famous reader (modeling or singing or whatever?) and they're like...childhood besties, lost contact, but then they meet again after becoming famous 😗😗😗😗

pairing: idol!jake x idol!reader

synopsis: years after losing touch with her childhood best friend, now fellow idol sim jake, a chance backstage encounter brings buried memories and unspoken feelings rushing back.

others: use of pet name (muffin). and honestly, it is supposed to be platonic (i think) but i cant help it, im a hopeless romantic :(

wc: 1.2k

a/n: a little side note, i cant vividly imagine what you guys might have in mind everytime you request something (im sorry </3) but i will my best to deliver it as smoothly and as ‘make sense’ (?) as possible! i dont know if this requires fluff, angst, suggestive (which i dont really like to write), but yet again, i’ll try to deliver every request as smoothly and as ‘make sense’ as possible! any feedback is highly appreciated too! happy reading💗 here’s my masterlist!

you’re stunned, absolutely frozen. every word that could describe your current state—speechless, shocked, dazed—falls short.

you had heard about the newly debuted boy group, the one everyone was buzzing about. but with your packed schedule, endless practices, and back-to-back performances, you barely had time to breathe, let alone catch up on industry gossip.

but now, standing just a few feet away from you, was someone who looked like a memory brought to life.

the soft, slightly whiny voice. the chestnut-brown hair that curled slightly at the ends. the gaze—sharp yet gentle, just as you remembered. it had to be him.

and before you could stop yourself, his name slipped from your lips like it was second nature.

“sim jaeyun.”

he turned, his eyes landing on you, widening in recognition. and then, as if time hadn’t passed at all, his face broke into a grin.

“muffin?”

hearing that nickname again was like reopening an old wound. years of carefully buried emotions began to resurface, sharp and bittersweet.

“yun?” you managed, your voice wavering as your heart threatened to beat out of your chest.

he looked at you like you were something out of a dream, his eyes scanning your face as if committing every detail to memory. “it’s really you,” he said softly, his voice laced with wonder.

you smiled, the corners of your lips trembling. “it’s really me.”

“what are you doing here? don’t tell me you’re one of the performers.”

you nodded, suddenly shy under his gaze. “didn’t know you actually went through with becoming famous,” you said, trying to keep your tone light even as your emotions threatened to overwhelm you.

he chuckled, the sound so familiar it made your chest ache. “didn’t know you did, either. weren’t you the kid who once froze during the school talent show because you forgot the words to your own song?”

you rolled your eyes, the teasing instantly easing some of the tension. “yeah, well, people change.”

“you can say that again,” he murmured, his eyes softening as they lingered on you.

years ago

“yun, is it final? you’re really moving?”

your voice was quiet, shaky—almost pleading. you didn’t want to believe it. couldn’t.

he sighed, his shoulders slumping as he looked anywhere but at you. “as much as i hate it…”

you waited, holding your breath, even though you already knew the answer.

“yeah. it’s final.”

“but, yun…”

“muffin,” he said softly, using that nickname that once made you smile but now only made your chest tighten.

you hated it at that moment. it was too light, too playful, too much him.

“can’t you just… stay? with me?” your voice cracked, and you bit the inside of your cheek, determined not to cry. “i don’t have anyone else but you.”

he finally looked at you then, his expression torn, his eyes shining with something that looked too much like guilt. “you think this is easy for me? you’re my best friend. leaving you is the last thing i want to do. but i don’t have a choice. my family needs this.”

you wanted to scream, to tell him that you needed him too. but deep down, you knew he was right. and that didn’t make it hurt any less.

“promise me,” you said after a long pause, your voice barely above a whisper. “promise me we won’t lose touch.”

his hand found your shoulder, warm and grounding. “i promise. calls, texts, video chats—you name it. you’re stuck with me, muffin.”

you swallowed the lump in your throat, nodding. “you better mean it. because if you forget about me, i’ll—”

“you’ll what?” he teased, the corners of his lips twitching into a small smile.

“i’ll fly to australia and make you regret it,” you shot back, trying to match his playful tone.

he laughed, the sound a little shaky. “deal. but that won’t happen, okay? i couldn’t forget you if i tried.”

but promises, no matter how heartfelt, are fragile things. the calls became less frequent. the texts dwindled. until, eventually, there was nothing. and all you had left of him was the memory of his laugh and the nickname you couldn’t bear to hear again.

back to the present

“you’re really here,” he said, breaking the silence. “famous idol and all. i should’ve known you’d make it big.”

“funny,” you said, raising an eyebrow. “i could say the same about you. i didn’t even know you wanted this.”

he shrugged, a sheepish grin tugging at his lips. “i didn’t, at first. but one day, i was watching kpop idols performing, and suddenly i thought, hey, maybe i could do that.”

“and here i thought you were going to take over the family business,” you teased, crossing your arms.

“well, surprise.” he gestured at himself dramatically. “instead of suits and ties, you get… this.”

you laughed, the sound easing the knot in your chest. “you make it sound so easy. meanwhile, i nearly quit a hundred times.”

“you?” he asked, his eyebrows shooting up. “the same girl who made me sing ‘do you wanna build a snowman’ at your birthday party? that girl almost quit?”

“okay, but that was different,” you argued, your cheeks flushing at the memory. “i had you to blame if it went horribly.”

“and yet, look at you now,” he said, his voice softening as his gaze settled on you. “center stage. killing it.”

“you’re not so bad yourself, yun,” you said quietly. “i’m proud of you.”

his expression shifted, something unspoken passing between you. “i missed you,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

your chest tightened. “me too.”

“i tried to find you,” he said, his tone a mix of frustration and regret. “but you don’t use social media, and… i don’t know. i thought maybe you didn’t want to be found.”

“it wasn’t that,” you said quickly. “life just… got in the way. and i didn’t think you’d still—”

“still what?”

“still care,” you finished softly, looking down.

he reached out, his fingers brushing against yours. “are you kidding? muffin, i never stopped caring. not for a second.”

his words hit you like a wave, and you felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes.

“i regret it,” you whispered. “losing touch with you. i should’ve tried harder.”

“hey,” he said gently, his thumb lightly brushing the back of your hand. “we both could’ve tried harder. but we’re here now, right?”

you nodded, your lips curling into a small, hesitant smile. “yeah. we are.”

“so, how about a fresh start?” he asked, his grin returning. “friends again? or do i need to buy your forgiveness first?”

“a fresh start, huh?” you said, pretending to think. “well, if we’re doing that, you at least owe me coffee for all the years you were MIA.”

he laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “coffee? muffin, i’ll buy you coffee every day if it means i get to make it up to you.”

“bold words, sim jaeyun.”

“what can i say?” he said, smirking. “i’m committed to the cause.”

“we’ll see about that,” you teased, but your voice softened as you added, “just don’t disappear again, okay? i don’t think i can handle losing you twice.”

he laced his fingers with yours, his grip warm and steady. “never again,” he promised.

and this time, you believed him.