#just to be safe. As always the tags are only ever a suggestion

[write-it-motherfuckers]

Person A: “Is it just me, or have they been watching me a little too intently since I got here?”

Person B: “No, it’s definitely strange. Usually they’re not too interested in newcomers. Hell, they barely acknowledge the people that have been here for years.”

Person A: “Then why are they- Oh god they’re coming over. What do I do?!”

Person B: “...Pray?”

[breadbrobin]

fate

clarisse la rue x reader — percy jackson and the olympians

[fem!daughter of apollo reader]

[part 2 to the trees]

summary: clarisse is being weirdly standoffish, and you’re not one to cave to that, no matter how much you like her. and no matter how things go, you still have to get your weapons from the forest.

warnings: swearing, arguing, fighting, monsters, PINING BUT THEYRE IDIOTS, everyone’s so mad at each other rn, kissing (AHHHH), canon typical violence, again probably slightly ooc clarisse but hey i love her anyway

word count: 3.2k

(uhhh so this is probably not what anyone was expecting for part two but this is how i alway a planned it, so here it is!! tag list in reblogs and also thank you for the love on the trees! i love you all so much <3 and i’d die for you just like clarisse and this dumb bitch here would die for each other)

(this is much more enemies to lovers than the first one btw so have fun)

———————————————

the day after capture the flag was always a little tense. of course it was. half the camp had just lost, and not many people at camp were good losers, especially not those who got their butts kicked.

this time, though, there was a new level of tension in the air.

ares kids didn’t often run the flag over the line themselves, and those who did were crowing about it at breakfast, then all morning too.

curiously, clarisse wasn’t. she was eating in silence, picking through her eggs like she was searching for something.

you’d never seen her like that before. no one had. but, it seemed you were the only person to notice. you always were, and you were okay with that.

your brother nudged your arm and shot you a questioning look, but you brushed him off with a smile.

why was clarisse so down? she’d won. what did she have to be upset about? was she mad at you? did you do something to piss her off in the tree? she hadn’t seemed exactly happy when she left.

stuck in your thoughts, you didn’t realise she’d met your eyes until your brother elbowed you.

“ow! what do you want?” you snapped, rubbing your rib cage tenderly.

“clarisse is staring at you,” he said with wide eyes. “dude… what did you do?”

“nothing,” you scoffed and stood up, taking your empty plate to the stack of dirty dishes, trying—and failing—to not look at clarisse as you left.

“y/n, wait up!”

you slowed down for sam as he jogged to catch up to you. there was a newfound bitterness in your mouth when you saw him. you’d never liked him, not like he’d liked you, but you’d never felt like you wanted to be away from him. not like you did in that moment then. but where would you go? to clarisse? yeah, right, she’d laugh in your face, regardless of whatever happened—or might have happened—in that tree.

“what’s up?” you asked. you couldn’t help your voice being drier than usual.

“just wanted to see how those arrows did you? were they good? i can make some more, if you want.” he looked almost eager to do so.

you smiled kindly. he really was sweet. “they were great, thanks, sam. best arrows i’ve ever used, even if i didn’t get too much of a chance to use them.” your steps faltered. “i did leave one in the forest though. i’ll have to get that later.”

your eyes locked on clarisse as she walked towards you down the path. two of her siblings were behind her, laughing, but she wasn’t. in fact, her jaw was set tight and she was glaring. at sam.

“i could come with you?” he suggested. “watch your back. keep you safe, you know?”

clarisse scoffed as she passed. “she doesn’t need you to keep her safe, tool-box.”

that was a little mean. sure, sam carried his tool-box everywhere, but you never know what might need to be fixed! despite yourself, you had to hold in a laugh. your eyes were alight with amusement as you locked gaze with clarisse.

she looked proud of herself, a jaunty grin on her lips. you couldn’t help your gaze dropping to them briefly. she smiled wider. it was infuriating. she now knew what her effect on you was, and she was using it.

“if she needed someone to protect her, she’d come to me, right, angel?” she tilted her head.

your mouth was infuriatingly dry. you nodded. “uh—“

“whatever,” sam snapped. “come on, y/n. let’s go.”

you kind of wanted to stay, but his grip on your arm didn’t leave any room for an argument. you trailed after him as he left, glancing over your shoulder just in time to see clarisse’s face darken with anger.

“angel?” sam scoffed. “who does she think she is?”

“uh…”

“whatever. gods, she’s just so—“ he turned and faced you, almost causing you to bump into his chest. you’d never seen him so intense before. “stay away from her, y/n. seriously. she’s bad news.”

“she’s nice to me,” you protested.

“she’s not nice to anyone. don’t be naive.” he turned on his heel and started to walk away, then turned back, his face softer. “come on. do you want to learn how to weld? you said you did last week.”

did you? you didn’t remember that. but you did vaguely remember a conversation with sam that you spent zoned out and staring at clarisse as she trained, so that was probably it. “oh, no… i have to… train…”

he looked disappointed, but nodded. “okay, that’s cool. maybe another day. or maybe, we can… go for a walk together? or even have lunch on the beach?”

you nodded absently. “maybe.”

“great, it’s a date!”

you frowned. “it’s a what?”

he looked happier than you’d ever seen him. he even kissed your cheek before walking off, a new spring in his step. you stood there for a moment, eyes wide, wondering what the hell just happened. then you heard a scoff from behind you.

when you turned around, clarisse was walking away.

“clarisse,” you said softly, jogging after her. “clarisse, wait!”

“go hang out with your boyfriend, l/n.” she snapped, her arms crossed as she walked. “he’s probably waiting for you so you two can make out in that sweaty little sex dungeon they call a workshop.”

your eyebrows shot up. “okay, first of all, i’m pretty sure it is actually a workshop, and second of all, he’s still not my boyfriend!”

she scoffed again but didn’t answer, stomping up the steps to the ares cabin and stopping at the top, looking down at you.

you felt small under her gaze, but you didn’t back down.

“what are you doing here?” she asked after a moment.

“you said i could come get a new dagger,”you said.

she rolled her eyes and leaned on the porch railing. “and?”

you frowned, looking up at her. “and… i’m here to get one?”

she regarded you for a few seconds in silence, then, just as she was about to speak, a new voice called out.

“clarisse, are you giving out girlfriend privileges already?” one of her brothers, marcus, you thought, stepped into the doorway of the cabin and peered around her to look at you. he looked like a stereotypical son of ares: buff, tall and mean. “that’s cute.” he continued, looking at you like you were an animal in a zoo.

“she’s not my girlfriend,” she scoffed like it was the most ridiculous thing in the world.

well, that hurt.

“yeah, we’re just—“

“we’re not even friends,” she added hurriedly, not even looking at you. “she just thinks she’s special.”

your jaw clenched. that really hurt. “i don’t think i’m special,” you snapped. “i think i want you to honour your word from yesterday or go and get my dagger out of the forest for me.”

“not my fault you forgot your dagger,” she studied her nails nonchalantly.

“but if you hadn’t thrown my dagger out of a tree and tossed my new arrow aside like it was trash then i wouldn’t have forgotten. and maybe if you hadn’t leaned in like you were about to kiss me, maybe i wouldn’t have forgotten either.” your gaze was as sharp as hers was, meeting in the middle with fire and lightning crackling between you.

she stepped forward, face to face with you. for a second, you thought she’d punch you, but you didn’t back down.

then she laughed. it wasn’t at all like her laugh in the tree the day before. this was her cold, cruel laugh that she usually saved for her victims. with a start, you realised that’s what you were: another victim of clarisse la rue. your heart broke for a split second before you pulled yourself together and straightened your back, meeting her eyes.

“kiss you?” she snickered. “get your head out of your ass, angel, you’re not all that because you can shoot a bow and climb a tree.”

you stepped closer to her, so you were right up in her face. “and you’re not all that because you scare away everyone who cares about you, just because your daddy’s a little mean. you don’t need to be a bitch about everything.”

you regretted it instantly. you’d gone too far. you knew that.

her face dropped and a hurt look flashed through her eyes, but it died as soon as it came to life.

you stepped back and turned, marching away.

“where are you going?” she called after you. “we’re not finished here!”

“you have something else to say to me, clarisse, you come find me!” you shot back, your voice hard. you didn’t start arguments often, but goddamn did you finish them.

you stomped into the forest, determined to find your dagger and arrow so you could prove to both clarisse and sam that you were capable of more than just shooting arrows from trees and running away from fights.

it was darker today. the clouds that covered camp half-blood permeated through the forest, leaving a heavy weight suspended among the trees. the air felt thicker, even, and the birdsong seemed quieter than usual. was there something around? something hanging in the air, waiting to attack you? drag your body back to camp and leave it on clarisse’s doorstep like a cat bringing in a dead bird?

or was your fear just because you were alone instead of with the rest of camp.

whatever it was, it put you on edge.

there was a clicking sound behind you, like someone was cracking a joint, but when you turned, no one was there. you weren’t foolish enough to call out.

you could feel a chill going down your spine, and that’s when you knew: the first shoe had dropped.

your eyelids fluttered and you nearly dropped to the ground, but you leaned heavily against a tree to catch yourself. typical. go out on your own, thinking you can take care of yourself and you get hit with a premonition. how’s that for fate?

you let the feeling wash over you; the pure panic of the near future and the warm grip of a hand on your wrist, like someone was pulling you along.

the future was not looking promising.

there was another clicking sound behind you as you finally managed to straighten up, much closer this time.

you turned around.

the bushes were rustling.

you suddenly realised what that clicking sound was.

mandibles.

two ants the size of german shepherds burst through the foliage. myrmeke.

there was the other shoe, dropping real hard.

“shit!” you stumbled backward, reaching for a weapon. you had no weapon. “double shit!”

you turned and ran.

the ants were fucking fast. they could have caught up to you if you weren’t so agile, turning and springing off in different directions every few steps, sending them careening into trees and rocks. that was the only thing keeping you alive.

where even were you? you didn’t recognise this area. hopefully you weren’t running directly for their anthill. that would be a real twist of fate.

then you burst into a new area, this one with a large tree—a large tree that you recognised.

“yes!” you exclaimed, dashing for the trunk. you found your dagger easily, then your discarded arrow too. you didn’t know what good they’d do against the myrmeke, considering that their shells were as hard as armour and, while force was good in some cases, you had to admit that sharpness may have helped you against them.

you couldn’t run anymore. your screaming lungs told you that. you couldn’t climb either. the ants could climb better than you and you’d be a sitting duck up there, no matter how high you went. but maybe, just maybe, you could hold them off until they got bored or someone realised you were missing.

it wasn’t easy, but you managed to deflect and dodge the myrmeke’s attacks. they were fast, but you were faster. you even managed a swipe at one of their legs as you rolled past, but all it did was leave a tiny chink in its armour.

you were beginning to lose hope.

honestly, what you wouldn’t give for a spear right now. your blunt dagger and slim arrow were about as good as a toothpick against these monsters.

just as you were backed against the tree that you’d once found a safe haven, you heard a battle cry. you could have sobbed from relief, but instead, as the spear-wielding figure landed on top of one of the ants, driving her weapon into the gap between its armoured plates, you took your opportunity to stab your arrow with as much force as you could into the other ant’s gaping mouth, slipping it precisely between its mandibles and, hopefully, into its brain.

it jerked back in pain and screeched, the sound making your ears ring, but it didn’t die. instead, it looked rightfully pissed off, and now it had an arrow sticking from its mouth.

as your saviour pulled her spear from the ants back, a warm, brown liquid sprayed on you. it smelled like ants always did after you crushed them, just a million times worse. you wondered if this was revenge for all the ants you’d murdered in your life.

“gross!” you exclaimed, wiping it off your face.

“grow up, bows, we gotta go!” clarisse. your saviour was clarisse. of course.

just as you were about to protest, two more myrmeke crept out of the forest towards you.

she gripped your wrist, right where that warmth was in your premonition, and dragged you away, making you drop your dagger in the rush.

“i dropped my—“

“save it!” she snapped, pulling you along.

the desperation in her voice kicked you into gear and you started running faster, alongside her now.

you didn’t use the same tactics as before. instead of dodging, you just ran as fast as you could and prayed that the myrmeke would be slower. clarisse seemed to know where she was going, at least.

“you’re such an idiot!” clarisse yelled as they ran.

“we’re doing this now?” you panted incredulously.

“you could have died!”

“we’ll both die if you don’t stop yelling at me!”

finally, gloriously, you breached the edge of the forest and stepped into camp. the myrmeke wouldn’t follow you there.

you dropped to you knees, panting and staring into the forest. clarisse was standing in front of you, her spear ready, just in case.

you’d stepped into a quiet part of camp up behind the amphitheatre, so there was no one around to see you, and no one around to help you. you had a feeling that if the myrmeke didn’t kill you, clarisse wouldn’t hesitate.

once it was clear that they weren’t following, she rounded on you.

you were still on your knees, your legs too tired and shaky with adrenaline to stand, but she didn’t seem to care.

“what were you thinking, going in on your own?” she snapped.

“well i wasn’t expecting to get attacked by killer ants within the camp’s borders!” you protested.

“everyone knows they’re there.”

“i forgot, okay? i’m not perfect.”

“oh, i know.” she rolled her eyes.

“gods, would you just fuck off?” you finally stood up, face to face with her. “you’re horrible sometimes, you know that? i can’t believe i’ve defended you.”

“i don’t need your defending.”

“and i don’t need your help!”

“you would have died!” she yelled, emphasising every word.

“but i didn’t!” you shouted back.

she rolled her eyes and stepped closer, anger practically radiating off her. “yeah, thanks to me. you’d be dead if i hadn’t followed you in there—“

“why did you follow me?” you asked suddenly, voice harsh.

“what?”

“why did you follow me?” you asked again, slower. “i didn’t ask you to look after me, clarisse.”

there it was again. that slightly relaxation of her shoulders when you said her name. it drove you nuts. you didn’t know if you wanted to kiss her for hours or throw her to the myrmeke.

she tensed up again and turned to leave. “whatever. i’m done here.”

“i’m not!” you gripped her shoulder and pulled her back around. to your surprise, she didn’t pull a weapon on you. “why did you follow me, clarisse? was it the same reason that you were flirting with me yesterday? and why you’re so protective of me? and why you hate sam?”

“i wasn’t flirting with you,” she grumbled. “and i hate sam for… personal reasons. and i’m not protective of you! why would you even think that?”

“that’s all bullshit and you know it,” you sneered.

“gods, you aggravate me!” she exclaimed.

“you didn’t have to come help me,” you scoffed, stepping back. “i didn’t ask for your help.”

“and i didn’t want to help you!”

“then why did you? huh? you could handle not winning a fight? you wanted to finish the argument on your terms?” your eyebrows were raised and your face was cold. “or were you gonna beat me up but the giant killer ants got to me first?”

she looked like she was about to explode with anger. “because i love you!”

the air escaped from your lungs in one sharp moment, and it looked like hers did the same thing.

“what?” you asked, your voice softer.

it was silent. she looked like she was trying to find something to say, but couldn’t. her mouth opened and closed weakly, and she shook her head, lips pressed together. you wanted to kiss her.

so you did.

she tensed up as your hands came to her waist, pulling her body and lips against yours hard. then, finally, she relaxed. she dropped her spear at your feet and raised her hands to your hair, threading her fingers through the strands. she was a softer kisser than you’d expected, but it was definitely her. it was all her. the tug on your hair, the underlying, undeniable harshness of the kiss, the spear that rested against your foot. it was perfectly clarisse. you could have kissed her until the sun went down and the ants came and carried you both to their anthill, and if you stayed kissing her like this, you wouldn’t even mind.

when, finally, you pulled away, you were both breathing heavily. all of the tension from the fight hid dissipated, leaving only a warm sparkling in the air, like a mirage around her face in the sunlight. maybe that was a sign? or a vision? whatever it was, it was heaven-sent.

she was smiling. she looked softer like this. gods, you loved it. it felt like fate, and you knew a lot about fate. fate was fickle. fate was cruel. fate brought you the arguments, the myrmeke, the terror. but fate also brought you this. this girl who was glowing in the sun like she was made of pure rays of light. the girl with a spear that she laid down at your feet and would save you barehanded if you asked. the girl who had sunk into your arms like she was made to be there.

“do you think i can get that new dagger now?” you asked cheekily, playing with the hem of her camp shirt. “i mean, i have girlfriend privileges now, right, babe?”

clarisse rolled her eyes, but she was still smiling. “shut up, devil.”

“ooh, devil. that’s new,” you teased. “i like it. it’s apt.”

“it sure is.” she looked down. “i’m… sorry, by the way.”

“me too,” you nodded. “i didn’t really mean any of that, you know?”

“‘cause you like me,” she said in a teasing voice.

“yeah, ‘cause i like you, or whatever.” you kissed her again, smiling against her lips. “and i know you like me too, because you so did nearly kiss me in that tree yesterday.”

she shrugged. “maybe. maybe not. guess we’ll never know.”

you found out at the next capture the flag game. and the next. and the next. she would go out of her way to find you, defeat you, then kiss you before running off to win the games. and honestly, you didn’t really mind.

fate was a fickle thing, but with clarisse by your side, no one could touch you. sam left you alone, people started treating you better, and you had everything you could ask for. her.

and whenever you two argued, you’d go into the woods together and kill some ants. after all, what says ‘couple’s bonding’ quite like murder?

[wonustars]

Rain or Shine Cafe

Ⱄ pairing: kwon soonyoung x f!reader Ⱄ wordcount: 10.5k Ⱄ genre: fluff, cafe coworkers au, suggestive

Ⱄ reblogs, likes and comments are always appreciated ♡! tumblr is based on reblogs not likes, and they help writers like me to get better reach. thank you!

Ⱄ summary: with no umbrella in hand on a rainy day, you felt like your life couldn’t get any worse. losing your glasses while it’s pouring cats and dogs, well maybe your life really was the worst. thankfully a faceless stranger was there to pick up your glasses and hand you his umbrella. you weren’t able to ever thank him for his act of kindness, but the sweet memory stays with you for awhile.

Ⱄ tags/warnings: cafe coworkers!soonyoung and reader, dancer!soonyoung, reader wears glasses, set in vancouver canada, they develop feelings quickly, reader is a little type a, mentions of other svt members, mentions of alcohol, hoshi tiger agenda is very present, allusions to sex, making out, grinding, groping, heavy petting (thth host voice activated), if anything is missing here lmk!

Ⱄ note: it's finally here!! this is my fic for the world tour @svthub collab hehe. thank you to my two lovely beta readers @junkissed and @highvern who helped me so much (ily both sm) ♡!!!!!! and also to the svthub members who helped me when developing the banner for this fic :) i hope you all enjoy this fic because i loved writing it and hoshi is just so silly. its all fluffy and cute and no smut which is a first for me but i hope it's still enjoyable for u all hehe. talk to u soon - anna ♡

Today was one of those days. The birds don’t sing in your wake, the sun doesn’t shine as bright. You weren’t sure what had been the catalyst to such a terrible day; maybe it was forgetting your umbrella, losing your glasses under the gloomy sky, or the rain that pitter-pattered against the pavement and mocked your misfortune.

It wasn’t until a faceless stranger entered your blurred field of vision, offering their umbrella and picking up your glasses. Before you could even thank them for their help, they whisked away so quickly that it was like they were a figment of your imagination. 

That small kind gesture had stuck with you for days, wondering if you would ever be able to meet them again. You desperately wished you could see what they looked like, but from the softness of their voice to their gentle touch, you had a feeling that their personality was just the same. 

˚∗˖⁺⑅ ˖⁺⑅˖◛

Working a shift at Rain or Shine Cafe is always the highlight of your day, especially after spending so many hectic hours at your university. The cafe was always serene, the customers were kind, and you liked how calming it would get once the Vancouver rain started to pour in. The droplets hit the glass windows in a rhythmic pattern that could probably put you to sleep if you allow. 

Rain or Shine Cafe was like your little haven from the busy city and university town. You were working the evenings while your boss, Seokmin, would cover the mornings. It was a little bit complicated with only the two of you, but you didn’t mind. You liked being the only person during your shift, it meant that you were practically your own boss. 

It wasn’t until the day that Seokmin decided it was time for a new hire, your safe space seemingly turned upside down. 

“Y/n, I’ve hired a new person, you’ll have to train them okay?” Seokmin informs you the moment you clock in. 

Giving him a defeated sigh, you knew it was time for a new coworker to join you. Although you hate the idea, you feel bad at how hard Seokmin works in the mornings, and on the rare occasions when you’re sick, evenings as well. 

“I don’t know Seokmin… are you sure I should be the one training them?” your tone wavers, if anything the owner would be able to do a better job than you at training the new hire. 

“What! You’ll do great, you’re my best employee after all,” he gives you a reassuring pat on your shoulder. 

With furrowed brows, your eyes bore holes into his back as he headed back to his office. 

“I’m your only employee!” you shout back while he can still hear you. 

The idea of having to train a new person after spending so much time finding your rhythm while working at the cafe doesn’t particularly thrill you. With many many prayers to the universe, you just hope they aren’t a pain in the ass to deal with. 

˚∗˖⁺⑅ ˖⁺⑅˖◛

Soonyoung wasn’t sure what to expect on his first day, and he was especially nervous because he’d never worked at a cafe before. Although his coordination is great when it comes to dancing, he isn’t so confident in his coffee-making skills. 

The moment he walked through the door, he saw your face shining against the afternoon sun, his heart beating so fast he thought he might have to go to the doctor for a serious case of heart palpitations. He can’t help but curse at himself silently, knowing that he is going to be extra nervous because of his extremely pretty coworker. 

As he approaches you he starts to feel a sense of familiarity bubbling at the bottom of his stomach. Wondering if he’d seen you around before, but he quickly scratched that idea knowing that there are millions of people living in the Greater Vancouver area. 

Clearing his throat he tries to get your attention as you delicately refill the pastry shelf with almond croissants and bagels. Your eyes turn towards the figure in front of the counter, assuming it’s another student from the university wanting to order. 

“U-uh hi,” Soonyoung blurts out, his pillowy cheeks turning red under your gaze. 

“Hi, what can I get for you?” you ask him, trying to ignore the awkwardness between you two. 

“Oh! I-I’m not here to order, I’m the new hire?” He tries to explain, but you can tell he feels a little unsure about being here at the cafe. 

“Oh. Soonyoung right?” 

“Yeah, that’s me, but uh- you can call me Hoshi,” he chuckles, scratching the back of his head. 

The words ‘play it cool’ keep repeating in his mind as he continues to talk to you, not wanting to make a bad first impression with his gorgeous new coworker. 

“Ah, I see, Hoshi,” you say apprehensively while nodding your head, yeah I’m not calling him that, you think to yourself. 

Seokmin told you that the new hire would be coming in for his first shift today, but he didn’t mention anything other than that. 

At first glance, Soonyoung wasn’t the type of person you expected Seokmin to hire. His dark clothing, bright blond hair and piercings along his ears didn’t scream “barista”. The aura around him screamed men’s fashion influencer just from the way he dresses. Although his clothes were casual you could tell there was still thought put into his outfit, from the baggy dark wash jeans to his graphic tee and earrings. 

“How about you come around the counter and clock in so we can get started,” you add as you finish placing the pastries on the display shelf. 

Scratching the back of his head he walks over only to hover behind you, a meek expression washes over his face. 

You turn to him with a quizzical eyebrow, not sure as to why he’s just standing there like a lost child in a supermarket. 

“H-how exactly do you clock in?” Soonyoung mumbles while twiddling his thumbs. 

“Seokmin didn’t show you where to clock in?” You question him. 

There was a part of you that had a feeling that you might have to teach him every little thing around the cafe. When Seokmin told you the new hire was coming in today, you were hoping that they would at least have a little bit of background knowledge. 

“U-uh no he pretty much hired me on the spot and told me to come in today,” he mutters, feeling a little embarrassed by your judgement, “this is actually my first job ever.” 

“Ever?” 

“Yeah, so I’m not sure why he even hired me, but I needed a job so I didn’t turn it down,” he continues, the blush on his soft cheeks becoming more apparent. 

You sigh deeply, this shift is going to feel a lot longer than you initially thought. Knowing it’s his first job means that you’ll have to train him a little slower. As you walk to show him where to clock in you silently pray that he’s a fast learner. 

Soonyoung can tell that you’re not excited to train him, and he feels bad that he doesn’t have the experience to be good at his job right away. But he’s determined to learn quickly, not wanting to disappoint you or Seokmin. 

He spent most of his time in university being able to pay for his expenses from his dance scholarship and the little money he was given from his parents, but unfortunately, it wasn’t enough to fund his trip for his and his dance troupe’s upcoming competition. 

They had entered a national competition taking place in Seattle and although the commute was only a two-hour road trip, there were so many other fees that he couldn’t afford unless he found a way to earn money. Plus if he wanted to fund both his dance trip and tiger collection, it was either he get a job near his school or he would have to resort to selling feet pics online. But getting a job at the cafe seemed like the safer and more logical option. 

“Well now that you’ve clocked in, this is your apron and the tag that Seokmin made you,” you inform him while handing him his things. 

Soonyoung doesn’t say a word, only nodding while listening to you explain how everything works at the cafe. 

“First we need you to learn all the drinks that we serve,” you explain, pushing the double doors that lead back to the main room of the building. 

“Okay, I can do that, it can’t be that hard right?”  Hoshi shrugs, trying his best to act nonchalantly to mask his nervousness. 

…

“Wait-No! That’s wrong,” your voice raises in panic as you watch Soonyoung put a fresh shot of espresso into the plastic to-go cup. 

Freezing, his eyes go wide as his mouth forms an ‘O’ shape and you start to scramble with panic. The plastic started to shrivel from the heat of the coffee. 

“I’m sorry! I didn’t know it would melt!” he exclaims, pouring the contents into the sink. 

It had been an hour of teaching Soonyoung how to make the drinks that were on the cafe menu, and he had somehow made a mistake every single step of the way. Thankfully today is a slower day in the cafe, allowing Soonyoung to observe your routine on serving customers. 

“It’s fine, how about we take a break and I'll show you how to use the oven to heat the pastries,” you sigh with defeat. 

Soonyoung’s face drops a little because he knows that he’s disappointed you. He wishes that he was good at his job the same way he is with dancing but his naturally good coordination and reflexes can only take him so far. 

“If a customer asks for a pastry they can have the option for them to be toasted in the oven, you just need to use the tongs and place them onto the rack,” you explain, demonstrating the steps that you would usually take, “then you don’t want to set the timer for more than twenty seconds or it’ll burn.” 

Soonyoung nods along, trying to follow your instructions closely, but he can’t help but get distracted by your features. Your hair is tied up, and glasses perched on your nose as you try to concentrate. He knows that it’s important to pay attention but he can’t help but feel attracted to you. There was a certain familiarity to you that he couldn’t seem to pinpoint. He hasn’t felt like this about someone he just met ever, and it’s not helping that you’re the one teaching him how to do his job properly. 

If he could stare at you during his whole shift instead of working, he would. 

“Does everything make sense so far?” you pull him out of his thoughts, staring at him expectantly. 

“Yeah, the pastry stuff seems like the most simple thing so far,” he comments, watching you put the croissant into a bag to eat after you’re off work. 

“How about we go back to making more test drinks? Just so you can get the hang of it,” you offer, wanting him to get more practice just in case it’s a busy day the next time he comes in for a shift. 

“Sure, you’re a great teacher by the way, I’m just new to all this,” he comforts you. 

“Thanks, and don’t worry too much, you’ll get better with time,” you pat his shoulder. 

You give him a smile of gratitude. The past few hours had you doubting your knowledge, patience, and teaching skills all at the same time. But his words of reassurance make you feel him warm inside. 

The way Soonyoung’s cheeks puff as he smiles makes you giggle. There was something about his soft features that made him so endearing, which made you feel a little bad for raising your voice at him earlier while he was trying to learn. 

Sure, he’s not the smartest when it comes to working at a cafe, but you have faith that he’ll be able to learn as time goes by. From the looks of it, Soonyoung seems determined to do better, that or he’s faking it. Either way, you owe it to Seokmin to show him everything you know. 

˚∗˖⁺⑅ ˖⁺⑅˖◛

“So…” Seokmin looks at you expectantly while you get ready to start your shift, “how was it?” 

“Well… he’s definitely new,” you sigh as you put on your apron and clock in. 

Seokmon gives you a concerned look, he felt a little bad for handing Soonyoung over to you knowing he had zero experience working in a cafe, but he trusted you, his best (only) employee to be able to train him well.

“Everything went well though, right?” he asks you, trailing behind you like a lost puppy. 

You can’t help but laugh at the way he follows you to the counter, wanting to hear every detail about what happened during your last shift. 

There wasn’t much to say other than the fact that Soonyoung wasn’t very good at his job, but you don’t want to be an asshole and rat him out when you could tell how eager he is to do his job properly. Instead, you decided to lie to your kind, and very naive boss. 

“Oh he’s perfect, honestly you made the right decision in hiring him,” you force a smile. 

Seokmin’s eyes light up with excitement, you could practically see his imaginary tail wagging back and forth with happiness. He trusts you so much that he never thought to hire anyone else, meaning this was a big step for him and the cafe. You could already start to feel the guilt seep into your nerves as he stared at you with so much trust.

“Really? Oh, thank god, I was so nervous when he told me he’s never had a job in his life before, honestly Y/n, I’m so happy and I’m sure things will–” Seokmin is cut off by the jingle of the bell above the door. 

Both your heads whip around as Soonyoung enters the cafe with a bright smile along his lips, refreshed from the last time he was in and ready to work a real shift this time. His clothing was more appropriate for work, a simple black tee shirt and black pants, his blond hair reflecting with the sun, giving him a halo effect. 

You wish you had met Soonyoung in different settings, then you would be able to admit how attractive he is. If only he wasn’t such a clutz, then maybe you would have a full-blown crush on him. 

“Afternoon Soonyoung,” Seokmin smiles at him. 

Fridays were always the busiest days at the cafe, even during the evening. You're just hoping that the odds were in your favour and Soonyoung actually retained all the information you told him last time you saw him. 

“Afternoon everyone!” he exclaims cheerfully. 

Waving at him you watch him descend to the back to clock in for his shift, your stomach churns with anxiety because you aren’t sure how well today is going to go. 

“Okay Y/n I’m off, you’re in charge as always,” Seokmin declared before leaving. 

… 

About half an hour into your shift, the pace of the cafe started to pick up and the line was starting to get longer. As the clock hit three-thirty, all the university students started to pile into the tiny building. 

You were starting to sweat and because Soonyoung still doesn’t know how to make all of the drinks you put him on cashier and pastry duty. It seems to be the only way that you were able to get through to all the customers in a timely manner. 

“Is there really only two of you?” A male customer whines at the back of the line, clearly annoyed by the wait. 

“Yes, unfortunately, this is usually the busiest time of the day for us,” you try to explain politely, but your anger issues start to creep up onto the surface. 

The overstimulation from the heat of the coffee as well as the chatter of customers was causing your patience to thin. You didn’t want to have to argue with anyone today, especially because you had a newbie working with you. 

“Could you at least hurry it up?” He scoffs, eyes rolling with annoyance. 

You don’t reply to his complaints, because if you were to start talking you would probably end up starting a fight mid-shift. 

“Dude, you can’t talk to her like that,” Soonyoung retaliated, obviously annoyed with the whiny customer. 

“What’d you say to me?” the customer fumes, coming to the front of the counter. 

The two men size up each other while you stand there a little shocked at how fast Soonyoung was to defend you. 

Soonyoung scowls as he stares at the asshole who was yelling at you. He wasn’t expecting people to get so angry over coffee but he wasn’t going to let someone disrespect you. 

“I said, you can’t talk to her like that,” he seethes, looking at the customer up and down with his chest puffed out, “if you’re so sick of waiting then go somewhere else.” 

“You know what I will. I don’t want some slow bitch making my drink anyways,” the customer retorts. 

“Fuck you! And don’t come back!” Soonyoung yells at his descending figure and turns at you silently asking if you were alright. 

His soft eyes had your heart palpitating, you never took him for the type of person to defend you from mean customers. If you weren’t fully attracted to him before, now you are. There was something about the way his demeanour had changed while trying to protect you that made you look at him in a different light. 

… 

By the time it was closer to the end of both you and Soonyoung’s shift, the amount of customers coming in slowed down considerably, allowing you to rest after what had happened earlier. 

The sun was down and it was nearing eight in the evening. While you were cleaning the counters and organizing for the morning shift, Soonyoung was mopping the floors and putting the chairs back in order. He looked peaceful as he was cleaning, you couldn’t help but stare. 

Soonyoung’s jawline is sharp as he appears to be deep in thought, and you allow yourself to admire the way his biceps flexed under his shirt as he swayed the mop back and forth. The veins along his forearms popped with each movement he made, you practically had to pinch yourself in order to not get caught ogling at him. 

“Uhm, I just wanted to say thanks for earlier, you didn’t have to do all that,” you speak up, catching his attention, “I appreciate it.” 

Soonyoung chuckles while shaking his head, giving you that same smile he did on the first day. The one that made his eyes look like a cute emoticon, and his cheeks puffy as if he were a hamster. 

“It wasn’t that big of a deal, I wasn’t going to let that asshole talk to you like that,” he shrugs nonchalantly. 

“Yeah I know, but still, thank you,” you reiterate, heat starting to creep up your neck as you recall the way he acted earlier.

“Of course,” he continues to smile before he says something you didn’t expect, “also, I know we’re not all that close, but me and my friends were going to go to the bar down the street. Do you want to join us?” 

Your eyes widen in shock, an answer flying out of your mouth before you can even think properly, “Sure!” 

“Okay, cool!” his eyes lit up at your acceptance to his invite, “we’re going to watch one of my friend’s shows, so you can meet me here again at like, 10 pm?”

“Are you sure they’re okay with me coming though? I don’t wanna impose,” you ask with uncertainty. 

“Yeah, of course, they’re chill,” he reassures you before going back to finish his task. 

Turning around you silently scream at the thought of going out with Soonyoung, being able to talk to him off work hours, it made you blush deeply. You don’t understand why you’re reacting this way all of a sudden as if you weren’t constantly annoyed by his clumsiness just a week ago, but you’re not opposed to the feelings of your developing crush on your coworker. 

˚∗˖⁺⑅ ˖⁺⑅˖◛

This was the first time in Soonyoung’s life that he had been wrecked with nervousness. Not even when he was performing on stage did his nerves get the best of him. You were just so pretty, and the more he worked with you, the more he wanted to get to know you, to interact with you outside the cafe and learn more about your personality. 

“Soonyoung!” he hears you call out for him, forcing him to look up from the pavement. 

His heart beats out of his chest, and his palms start to sweat. Your hair is down and frames your face. As you start to get closer he allows himself to appreciate the view in front of him. The moonlight shining above, the stars twinkling beautifully and yet he can’t seem to take his eyes off of you. 

Your outfit suited you so well, a short skirt, an oversized graphic tee and a pair of knee-high boots. So this is what you look like outside of work, Soonyoung thought to himself. He already found you attractive in your work clothes, with your brown apron and baseball cap. But seeing you like this made his mouth go dry, forcing him to gulp like a starved man. 

“H-hey! You look really good,” he stutters and he curses at himself silently from how nervous he is. 

“Thank you, you too,” you blush, a timid expression falling on your face, not being able to meet his eyes as you play with the keychain on your bag. 

“Are you ready to go?” he asks, his head nudging in the direction of the bar. 

You nod with a smile, following his steps toward your destination. With clammy hands, you grip the strap of your bag while you and Soonyoung walk in perfect harmony. This is the first time you’ve gone for a night out in a while, and your body is filled with nervousness and excitement at the thought of being able to spend more time with Soonyoung. 

… 

“Hoshi! The show is about to start, what took you so long?” a brown-haired man calls out, walking towards the two of you. 

His eyes widened with curiosity, realizing that Soonyoung hadn’t come to the bar alone tonight. 

“And who is this?” he asks, observing you closely with a glass of beer in his hand. 

“Y/n, this is Seungkwan, Kwan, this is Y/n,” Soonyoung introduces the two of you, and you can only reply with a shy wave and smile. 

“I see,” he mutters, taking a sip from his glass. 

Seungkwan’s eyes are boring holes into your face and it causes your cheeks to heat up. 

“She’s my coworker at Rain or Shine,” Soonyoung adds, before giving Seungkwan a pointed look. 

Seungkwan, although usually friendly, is very intrigued as to why you were brought over to hang out with Soonyoung and their friends tonight. It wasn’t a normal occurrence for Soonyoung to bring anyone new to Vernon’s shows, especially a girl. He concluded that you must mean something to Hoshi, and not just because you’re his coworker. 

“Ohh okay, it’s nice to meet you,” Seungkwan smiles and that allows you to let out a breath of relief that you didn’t realize that you were holding, “but we should get to our seats, the show is about to start.” 

There’s a collective agreement and the three of you head over to a reserved table that’s located closer to the stage. It must be a perk to know the band that was playing because it had the best view in the bar. 

As you reach the table you meet with a few more people sitting around talking and drinking. Your naturally introverted attitude increases tenfold when your eyes lay on the group of men talking loudly and laughing with each other. 

“Soonyoung’s finally here! And he’s brought a friend,” Seungkwan announces, his back facing you and you don’t catch the way his eyebrows wiggle suggestively. 

The group’s conversation is cut off and they go over to greet you and Soonyoung. They were all so tall and attractive, you didn’t expect it at all. But it somehow makes sense that someone as good-looking as Soonyoung would also have good-looking friends. 

“Y/n, this is Chan, Mingyu and Minghao,” Soonyoung introduces you, pointing everyone out one by one. 

“Hi, I work with Soonyoung at the cafe,” you greet them with a small wave. 

The three men smile at you warmly before you sit down, and Mingyu is the first one to talk to you. You’re awestruck at how attractive he is, his wide smile and sharp teeth poking out added a charming factor to him that you wouldn’t notice if it were anyone else. 

“Hi, did you want something to drink?” he asks you, his voice husky and warm. 

“A diet coke and rum is fine,” you tell him and he nods before getting up and heading to the bar. 

Watching him walk away, you turn your attention back onto Soonyoung who seems to be deep in conversation with Chan. Seeing him laugh and talk with his friends is new to you, and it makes your stomach flutter at how concentrated he is. 

“No I can’t give you the leftover pastries, stop asking me, I literally just started working there,” Soonyoung groans as Chan begs him for leftover almond croissants. 

A giggle escapes your lips as you watch how desperate Chan is for a free croissant, you’ve never seen someone so passionate over bread before. 

“I can give one to Soonyoung next time we close, we always have leftovers,” you chime in, giving Chan a warm smile.

Chan practically lights up with excitement and Soonyoung rolls his eyes at the fact that his younger friend is somehow always able to get what he wants. You can’t help but smile at how eager he is over such a simple thing.

“Are you sure? You don’t have to do that,” Soonyoung looks at you. 

He watches as you give him a reassuring smile, your eyes reflecting the bar lights. There are so many things that he got to learn about you today. The way you get shy meeting new people, yet you’re kind and willing to get to know his friends. You were tugging on his heartstrings and he didn’t want to stop getting to know the little things about you. 

“Yeah, it’s fine, Seokmin always lets me bring some home after my shift is over anyways,” you wave your hand, letting Chan know that Seokmin is a chill manager. 

“Really? Thank you Y/n,” Chan gives you a look of gratitude, going over to hug you. Laughing at his sudden burst of affection, you pat his back while telling him it wasn’t that big of a deal. 

The lights in the bar started to dim and you see Mingyu coming back with your drink. He places it in front of you and says not to worry about paying for it. There wasn’t much arguing coming from your side, who are you to refuse a free drink? Instead, you thank him and pay attention to the band coming out onto the stage. 

“Oh yeah, whatever happened to your ‘beautiful stranger’? Did you ever find her?” you hear Chan ask right before the band performs. 

There was a pause in the air and Soonyoung’s words were drowned out by the music. You are grateful for the fact that you couldn’t hear his answer. Honestly, you didn’t want to know what he had said in response. Instead of worrying over something you had no right to worry about, you allow the music to take over you. Paying close attention to the melodic singing flowing through the speakers. 

… 

“Thank you for inviting me out tonight, I enjoyed it,” you break the silence on the walk home to your apartment. 

Soonyoung offered to walk you home and you refused but he insisted that he wouldn’t be able to sleep properly if you walked alone at this hour. The time was nearing one in the morning and you were able to meet the rest of his friends after the show. They were all nice to you, except for that first moment with Seungkwan, but he warmed up shortly after. 

The descent to your place was relatively quiet, the two of you admiring the Vancouver skyline and high mountains. Sometimes you forget that you live in such a beautiful place, a city that never sleeps. You watched Soonyoung appreciate his view and you smiled inwardly at how content he seemed. 

Watching him interact with his friends earlier warmed your heart, he looked so happy being around them it made you forget how bad he is at his job, and that he’s a little clueless when it comes to working at the cafe. You felt bad about getting angry with him so quickly, but as you started to understand him more, you realized that there’s more to him than his clumsiness. He’s a bright person, he has the resemblance of a ball of sunshine. Always smiling, eager to bond with his friends, to laugh and to make thoughtful memories. 

You realize how much you had envied him in that moment. It’s easy for him to get along with everyone, and the fact that he’s able to go out without overthinking the smallest things. You just wanted to be as carefree as Soonyoung. 

“It's no problem, I wanted you to come, and they all loved you!” he chirped, eyes turning into slits from a wide smile. You blush at his outward personality. 

“Well, this is me,” you motion toward the entrance of your apartment building.

 You were a little embarrassed at its homely nature. All the nicer apartments surrounding your tiny building. But you couldn’t help but think that it had a charm to it that the modern buildings in Vancouver didn’t have. 

“Have a good night Y/n,” Soonyoung grinned as you two stood there, the breeze flowing through your fingertips while you stared into his sparkling eyes. 

“Have a good night Soonyoung,” you repeat him, and he doesn’t say anything else, pulling you into a hug. 

Soonyoung wasn’t sure if you like to be hugged, and he was hesitant at first, but with the way you were staring at him, he couldn’t help but want to hold you. He understands that you aren’t that close, but he knows he wants to get to know you more. 

As he holds you in his arms, he breathes in your scent, and it’s addicting. You smelt like a rainy day, reading books against the window sill and drinking a warm cup of tea. You felt like home to him, he finds it odd that he thinks of you that way so early on in your friendship, but he can’t help it. Soonyoung doesn’t want to deny his growing feelings for you. 

Although you were surprised by his actions you didn’t hate the way his arms felt around you. Strong and muscular, holding you tight while you breathe in the scent of his cologne. He smelt good, like roasting marshmallows over a campfire, or a beach day where the sun warmed your skin in the best way. 

There's something comforting about Soonyoung’s demeanour, his personality, his everything. Why was he so nice to you? Why did he express so much interest in someone he barely knows? You didn’t know and you were too shy to ask. 

He pulls away and opens the first door to your building for you, making sure you enter safe and sound. But before you could get to the door with the lock he asks you a question. 

“Uh, Chan and I have a dance showcase coming up next weekend, did you wanna come and see me perform?” Soonyoung asks while blushing. 

“I’d love to!” You answer back, and he just nods, letting go of you so that you can go up to your apartment and rest. 

“I’ll text you the details! Good night!” He yells from down the sidewalk, arm flailing to wave goodbye. You can’t help but giggle at him, your cheeks heating up at his goofy personality. 

As you enter your apartment, your mind travels back to the question Chan had asked Soonyoung before the band started performing. Who was this beautiful stranger that he was talking about? It made your stomach churn at the possibility that Soonyoung wouldn’t be available if you decided to tell him about the crush you’d developed. Sighing at the thought, you try to not let it affect you. You’ve only known him for a short time, and there’s no reason for you to feel jealous of someone you’re not even sure that he knows.

˚∗˖⁺⑅ ˖⁺⑅˖◛

“How was your weekend, kiddo?” Seokmin’s presence welcomes you into his cafe, giving you a dazzling smile. 

“It was fun, me and Soonyoung went out with his friends,” you blushed as you recollected the time you got to spend with him. 

Seokmin walks up to you, his eyes panning over your body, eyebrow quirked up. He taps his chin acting as if he’s in deep thought before moving closer, sniffing you and you almost slap him square on the cheek. But he’s quick to avoid your hand. 

“I smell a crush!” He points his finger at you, his tone accusatory. 

“What?! Pfft, I don’t have a crush,” you deny his allegations, but your forehead starts to collect sweat out of nervousness. 

You didn’t think that Seokmin would put you on the spot like this, but it would feel awkward to admit that you have a crush on your coworker. Who just so happened to start working here less than two weeks ago. 

“Don’t lie to me, I can smell it on you! You have a crush,” Seokmin sang, dancing around you teasingly. Poking at your cheeks like you were a grizzly bear he’s trying to provoke. 

“Okay! Okay. Maybe I do have a crush, but it doesn’t mean anything,” you sigh, admitting your feelings so that your boss, nearly ten years older than you, would stop prancing around like a lunatic for all the passersby to see. 

“Why? What if he likes you back,” he wiggles his eyebrows, and you cringe at him. 

Leave it up to Seokmin to disregard professionalism in the workplace. If anything he was more like your surrogate dad that liked to be filled in on the latest drama. 

“He doesn’t,” you deflate, moving over to clock in and put on your apron. 

You know for a fact that Soonyoung couldn’t like you back, his mind was too preoccupied with much more important things, and some other girl who he doesn’t even know. 

“What are you? A mind reader?” Seokmin teases you, not wanting to see you pretend to be so apathetic.

Of course, you couldn’t read minds, but it was clear that Soonyoung’s interest lay somewhere else.  You don’t even know what to say to Seokmin at the moment, how do you even explain your feelings properly? Yes, you have a teeny crush on your coworker, but that’s all it should be, right? It wouldn’t be realistic to date him. 

The chime of the bell hanging on top of the door breaks your thoughts, “Good afternoon to my amazing boss, and my amazing coworker!”

Soonyoung is practically skipping through the door with delight, and it makes you smile. He always seemed so cheerful coming into work. It warms your heart. 

“Ahh good to see you Soonyoung,” Seokmin smiles, watching his figure disappear into the back. 

He turns to you and makes a face, his eyebrows wiggling while his lips widen into a shit-eating grin. Seokmin can’t help but tease you, he finds it cute that you have a crush on Soonyoung. In all the years that you’ve been working for him, there hasn’t been a time where he’s seen you so smitten over a boy. 

You roll your eyes at him, shooing him away before Soonyoung comes out and realizes why your boss is teasing you. 

… 

Once Seokmin had left, you and Soonyoung were left to fend for yourselves. Although today wasn’t as busy as the last time you were working with each other, it wasn’t a shift with Soonyoung if there wasn’t at least one thing that went wrong. 

You were minding your business, restocking some of the supplies in the storage room. As you were peacefully putting new syrups on the shelves, there was a high-pitched scream coming from the front part of the cafe. Your eyes widen at the sound, and you come rushing to the counter. 

“What happened?!” you stumbled in, your chest heaving as you tried to get to Soonyoung as fast as you could. 

“I-Uh-,” Soonyoung seems to be at a loss for words, you can he the audible gulp before he continues, “there was a spider, and I tried to kill it but I lost it.” 

A wave of relief washes over you as you realize that no one is hurt and the building is not on fire. Your eyes travel to where he’s crouched behind the counter, hands gripping the marble while his eyes peek over to observe the spider crawling across the floor. You can’t help but laugh at how terrified he is over a small insect. Instead of cowering away in fear beside him, you walk over to where the spider had begun to crawl up the leg of one of the chairs. 

“Y/n be careful! You could die if you get stung, and then we would have to call 911, and what if you don’t make it? I’d feel so guilty, I would carry the weight of my guilt as I grow old, we would hold memorials for you–Oh." His sentence comes to an abrupt stop as he sees you grab the spider with a tissue and place it back outside onto the pavement. 

“It was just a daddy long legs, no need to be afraid,” you reassure him. 

Soonyoung sighs in relief before standing up, patting down his clothes to get rid of the imaginary dust. He wipes his forehead as if he were the one to take care of the insect problem. 

“If there’s anything else wrong just call for me, I’ll be in the back,” you announce, hoping that would be the first and last incident for the day. 

Soonyoung nods, giving you a thumbs up as you walk into the back. You let out a breath of relief, giggling to yourself, recollecting the memory of him crouched behind the counter. The redness on your cheeks doesn’t seem to fade at the thought of him cowering over a small spider. 

No matter what Soonyoung does, you can’t help but find him endearing. And when he’s not, you find him undeniably attractive. How does this happen? How does one guy who once annoyed you turn into someone who has you completely flustered? It feels odd falling for someone so fast, and you’re just hoping he’ll feel the same. Especially because no one has had this effect on you before. 

The more you think about your budding feelings for Soonyoung, you’re constantly reminded of the fact that he’s searching for someone he thinks is his soulmate. You’re apprehensive, but at the same time, he might never find her. So what’s the point of trying to fight these feelings knowing you’re competing with someone he isn’t sure even exists? 

˚∗˖⁺⑅ ˖⁺⑅˖◛

There were tingles all over your body. Today was the day of Soonyoung’s dance showcase. Although you were excited to see him in his element, you were still nervous. It’s only been a month since you two met and him working at the cafe, but even then, you still feel like a stranger to his outside life. You weren’t sure why he invited you, but you’re grateful that you’ll be able to witness this side of him. 

As you make your way into the auditorium of his University, you find yourself in awe at the amount of people in the crowd. It was obvious that his dance team was well-liked at his school, causing admiration to bloom within your chest. 

Looking around for a familiar face, you spot Seungkwan and Mingyu sitting in the front row that’s reserved for close friends and family for the people on the dance team. You make eye contact with them, their hands motioning for you to come and sit with them. 

“Y/n! You came, Soonyoung is going to be so excited,” Mingyu exclaims, pulling you into a bone-crushing hug. 

You laugh at how excited he is to see you, your cheeks turning red at the mention of Soonyoung. As you pull away, you say hello to Seungkwan before taking your seat between them. 

The three of you make a little small talk until the lights start to dim and the spotlight glows against the stage. Your heart is beating out of your chest as you spot Soonyoung walking onto the stage. His hair and makeup were styled, his outfit complimenting his muscular arms perfectly. You’re thankful that the background music was loud enough, hoping that neither Seungkwan nor Mingyu heard the enormous gulp you took the moment your eyes laid on their best friend. 

“Good evening everyone! Thank you all for coming to our showcase tonight, I hope you enjoy the performances we prepared,” Soonyoung speaks into the mic, his eyes gleaming under the bright stage lights. 

Your breath is caught in your throat once again, Soonyoung’s confidence exuding from where he stands. He looks so handsome under all the bright lights as if he’s born to be on stage. To dance or to entertain, he has the charisma to make the audience laugh and cheer for him. 

You’re hot in your seat, your hands starting to sweat as he continues to charm the crowd. 

“Everyone has worked so hard for this, and you all get a sneak peek at our performance for the National Dance Competition taking place in Seattle!” He informs the crowd, his smile widening as he unveils his dance troupe's little secret. 

As he walks off stage you can’t help but stare in awe, anticipation swirls in your stomach as the lights start to dim once again. The dancers fill up the stage, indicating the start of the performance and you can see the outline of Soonyoung’s frame from where you sit. 

Soonyoung’s eyes blaze in the stage lights as the spotlight is cast on him. The dancers are behind him in their rightful positions as the music starts to play. With your mouth agape, you watch his body flow with the music. The strong bass of hip-hop flows through the speakers with every move Soonyoung makes along with his dance crew. The rest of the crowd sits there cheering them on while you’re left speechless. 

The serious gaze he holds, as he dances, makes your knees weak, especially because you can tell how passionate he is about his craft. He was made for dancing, born to tell a story with his limbs as they move languidly with the beat of the song. 

As the routine comes to an end you can’t help but feel lucky to see Soonyoung in his element. Far from the man who you’ve witnessed make the most silly mistakes while working, he’s so different on stage. Although you’ve come to appreciate his presence at the cafe, seeing him dance instills a profound sense of pride in your stomach. 

With each passing second the dance routine comes to a close, Soonyoung spots you in the front row as he continues to move on stage. His eyes widen as his gaze sets upon you before sending you a flirtatious wink. He goes back to facing the centre of the crowd, your whole body enveloped in heat. 

The song ends and you’re left sitting there with shocks of electricity passing through your entire body. Your crush on Soonyoung has turned into something deeper. 

…

Your palms sweat profusely as you stand at the entrance of the auditorium, an almond croissant in one hand and a bouquet of yellow flowers in the other. While you stand and wait for Soonyoung to come out of the dressing room, your mind is filled with thoughts of his performance. The image of him on stage doesn't leave your thoughts, not even for a second. 

“Y/n!” You hear a voice call out for you, pulling you out of your light daydreaming. 

Turning your head in the direction of the voice, your eyes land on Soonyoung, his tall figure making its way over to where you are. Your breath is caught in your throat as your gaze focuses on him. Bareface but his hair still styled, he looked breathtaking.

“Soonyoung! Hi, you were amazing up there,” you tell him breathlessly. 

  He smiles bashfully at your compliment, his cheeks turning red at your appreciation. Soonyoung doesn’t take compliments well as it is, but when it’s coming from you, he becomes even more flustered. The twinkle in your eyes never leaves as you smile at him. 

Pulling you into a hug, your shoulders tense in surprise at his sudden burst of affection, but you don’t hate it. You don’t mind how he likes to express his gratitude towards you. Instead, you embrace it, relaxing as his strong arms hold you close. You don’t ever get tired of how good he smells. Warm, bright, and comforting, like the sun personified.  

“Thank you for coming, you don’t know how much this means to me,” he mumbles while his arms are still wrapped around you. 

Your face buries itself deeper in his chest as you hear him talk, wanting to hide your already burning face from him. He makes you feel like you’re important like he would’ve been disappointed if you didn’t show up tonight. 

Pulling away, Soonyoung smiles at you, the same smile that reaches his eyes in the most adorable way. And then he notices the bouquet of flowers that are held tightly in your grasp. His eyes widen, cheeks red, he’s never received flowers in his life before, but he’s happy you’re the first. 

“Is that for me?” he asks, and you nod shyly, “thank you! You didn’t need to get me something, I invited you remember?” 

“I know but I wanted to thank you for inviting me, think of it as an advanced congratulations when you win the dance tournament next month,” you say as you hand him the bouquet. 

“Also, the croissant is for Chan, I know I promised to get him one,” you add. 

His laugh rings through your ears delightfully, finding it cute that you make good on your promises. Even the smallest things like getting a croissant for his best friend, he admires everything about you. The fact that you’re so earnest and willing to share so much with the people he cares about. He falls for you more as each day passes. 

Soonyoung knows it hasn’t been long since he’s met you, but he doesn’t care. He knows that he likes you, that he wants to take you out, shower you in all his love and affection, and do whatever it takes to see you smile. He doesn’t care about time unless he can spend the rest of it with you. 

˚∗˖⁺⑅ ˖⁺⑅˖◛

When Soonyoung asked to hang out after his dance showcase, you couldn’t help but happily oblige. The way he looks at you, how he shows that he wants to spend time with you makes your stomach flutter. How could one possibly say no to someone like him? 

As you two walk over to his apartment, your palms begin to sweat again, even with the cool Vancouver breeze that flows between you. You think about how close you two have gotten since that first day in the cafe, and you can only smile to yourself. He makes you feel wanted, like there's more between you than just friendly coworkers.

 Although you want to tell him how much you’ve grown to like him, there's a part of you that still holds back, just because of that little comment Chan made all those weeks ago. 

“We’re here!” Soonyoung announces, stepping into the front entrance of his apartment. 

It’s considerably nicer than the one you live in, making you feel slightly intimidated by the high-rise building. You tried not to let it show, but you didn’t fully realize how different you two were until now. He’s outgoing, a ball of sunshine. You tend to prefer living in solace, keeping to yourself whether it be at work or school. 

“Your place is nice,” you comment as your eyes follow the expanse of the building's height. 

“Thank you! Let’s get inside, I think it’s about to start raining,” Soonyoung ushers you in, already noticing the way the clouds start to thicken in the evening sky. 

The ride up to the elevator is peaceful, you two enjoy each other's company in silence while you continue to admire the building. As he leads you to the front door of his apartment, your breath gets stuck in your throat once more. You knew Soonyoung was a stylish individual, but you didn’t think that a person in university had much knowledge of interior design. 

In short, you found his home to be comforting, the furniture and decorations suited his personality perfectly. It felt warm, it felt like a home. 

If only you knew, that Soonyoung was just as nervous as you. His heart beats faster as your eyes look over his apartment. He cleaned it this morning in hopes that you would say yes to coming over. Otherwise it would’ve embodied a pig stye, and he couldn’t have the girl he has feelings for thinking that he was a slob. 

“Your place is beautiful, Soonyoung,” you mumble as you continue to look around. 

“Really?” He acts shy, scratching the back of his head. 

“Yeah! I like it, it suits you,” you turn back to him, flashing him a warm smile that makes his cheeks heat up. 

Soonyoung releases a breath that he didn’t realize that he was even holding, happy to know that your first impression of his home is positive. Usually when he has his friends over they tell him it can get a little messy, especially when Mingyu visits. His best friend is always helping him clean up the place because of his natural tendency to declutter any space he’s in. 

“Do you wanna watch a movie? Or maybe just talk…?” Soonyoung stutters a bit, his head all over the place because the girl he has been crushing on is in front of him. Not while his other friends are around, and not in a workplace setting either. 

He doesn’t know how to act when you’re around, he’s typically not a shy person, but when you’re around all his thoughts fly out the window. 

“Uhm, talking is just fine with me,” you laugh at how red his face has gotten. 

There was an obvious tension in the air and it was hard for you to ignore, but you’re just happy to be alone with him. For once, his friends weren’t here or Seokmin, it was just you and Soonyoung. 

He grabs your hand as if he had no control over his actions, guiding you over to his couch. You two sit there, a little closer than what would be considered friendly for coworkers. His eyes twinkled against the ambient lighting. 

“What did you want to talk about?” you ask innocently, trying to ignore the rising tension between you. 

Soonyoung shies away from your gaze, your eyes becoming the size the saucers the more you stare at him. He wants to tell you how he feels, although he isn’t sure that you feel the same. He wants to take his chance with you while it’s still in front of him. 

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you, and I’m actually really nervous but I just need to say it,” he lets out another puff of breath, trying to calm his nerves. 

The beating in your chest increases with each word Soonyoung says, and you don’t know how to feel. You’re nervous too, but you want to hear what he has to say. You feel his hand over yours, squeezing it softly. He’s not sure whether it's to soothe himself or you, but it's working. 

“I like you, I know we didn’t meet that long ago, but every time I see you I get so happy, and I love how all my friends like you, and you’re just so beautiful, I can’t keep it to myself anymore, but if you don’t feel the same–,” He blurts out, redness crawling up from his neck to his cheeks once again. 

Before you could even register anything past the words ‘I like you’, you pull him into a hug, which is not something normal for you, but Soonyoung is the exception. You can’t help but want to hold him in your arms, your own personal ball of sunshine that has been crafted specifically for you. 

“I like you too,” you whisper in his ear as you hold him close. 

Soonyoung gasped in surprise at your declaration, and you could practically feel him vibrating in his seat with excitement. 

He pulls back from the hug with the biggest smile on his face, eyes brighter than the stars that have been covered by the rain clouds swirling outside his window, “You do?” 

“Yes, I do like you back,” you giggle while intertwining your fingers with his, “but I’ve been holding back ever since that night at the bar.” 

Soonyoung raises an eyebrow, trying to rack his brain as he thinks of every moment that happened between you that night, but nothing comes to mind. 

“Wait why? What happened?” He asks, curious as to why you two have gone this long without confessing to each other. 

“It was something Chan said…” you trail off, staring at how your fingers are laced between his. 

“Fucking Chan,” he curses at his best friend, “what did he say exactly?” 

“Well he didn’t really say anything, but he just asked you a question on the stranger who you’re convinced is your soul mate or whatever,” you shrug your shoulders, trying to act like such a simple thing didn’t torment you for weeks. 

Soonyoung eyebrows raise even more and his mouth forms an ‘O’ shape, and he starts to connect the dots. He didn’t think that would be the reason you hadn’t told him. If anything, he thought it was because he was not very good at his job at the cafe or that you just weren’t sure about your feelings. 

“Oh, that… well I got over it a long time ago. It happened at the front of the cafe, this girl lost her glasses and it was raining and everything. I didn’t see her face because she walked away so fast I didn’t get a chance to act on it.” He recalls the moment between him and the stranger, “I was going in for my interview with Seokmin so I picked up her glasses and gave her my umbrella.” 

Sitting quietly beside him, your heart plummets to the bottom of your stomach. This whole time, the person who helped you on what you considered one of your worst days to date, was Soonyoung? You aren’t even sure what to say but it's almost laughable. As if the universe had known that you two were meant to meet one way or the other. 

“Soonyoung, that was me,” you reveal to him, and his eyes widen. 

“THAT WAS YOU?” He practically jumps out of his seat, hands now placed on your shoulder, inspecting every corner of your face, “now that I think of it, your glasses do look familiar.” 

Bursting out laughing, you can’t believe that he would react in this way. He looks like he’s just been let in on an ancient secret, “to be fair, I didn’t know it was you either, I’m practically blind without my glasses so I didn’t see your face.” 

“Oh my god, we’re meant to be,” he mutters to himself, his hand covering his mouth in shock. 

Soonyoung is elated, to say the least, he gave up on his beautiful stranger the moment he laid his eyes on you. But to find that you are his beautiful stranger. Well, now he knows that he can’t ever let you go. 

“I hope you know we’re locked in for life now,” he stares at you earnestly, taking both your hands in his and you look at him quizzically, “Sorry baby, but we can’t disappoint the universe after all the hard work they put into our love story.” 

You giggle at him, even when it’s just the two of you, he’s just as silly. That's what you like about him though, the fact that he makes you laugh and smile practically on command. You’ve never laughed this hard with anyone before, Seokmin probably being the only exception, but you don’t want to think about your boss right now. 

“Baby? Eager aren’t we?” you tease, and Soonyoung blushes hard, moving away from your peering eyes as he lets go of your hands. 

“I can’t help it, you’ll just have to get used to it,” he shrugs, acting nonchalant, but you can see the way he side-eyes you, wanting to still see your reaction. 

“Does this mean you’ll take me out on dates? And all the other couple stuff,” you whisper in his ear, your hands circling his bicep as he faces away from you. 

“W-well duh! Of course, I’m gonna take you on a proper date, I need to show you how good of a boyfriend I can be!” he exclaims and another giggle slips past your lips. 

Squeezing his muscular arm tighter, you can feel his pulse increasing under your touch, “boyfriend? When did I say anything about you being my boyfriend.” 

Those few words break his act and he turns to you in shock, he looks like a deer in headlights. Soonyoung is embarrassed about how ahead of himself he’s gotten but he doesn’t want to date anyone else either. If you’re not going to become his girl, then he’d rather just give up on dating altogether. 

“I want to be your boyfriend, like really really bad, but only if you’ll let me,” he declares, eyes piercing into your soul with all seriousness. 

Watching his demeanour change once more makes you gulp involuntarily.

“I want to be your girlfriend, like really really bad,” you echo his words. 

Gasping, Soonyoung can’t contain his happiness, pulling you into a tight hug, and showering your cheeks with kisses. Giggling in his arms, your stomach begins to hurt at how much he can make you laugh in such a short amount of time. 

Your body heats up at his affection, feeling the way his plush lips press against your skin. You haven’t felt something like this in a long time, but the fact that it’s Soonyoung makes it better. 

Getting up from the couch you stand in front of him, and he’s confused as to why you pulled yourself away. Did he take it too far by kissing you like that? He can feel the apprehension rising within himself as he stares up at you. 

“Do you wanna show me to your room?” You ask, and Soonyoung has never stood up so fast in his life ever before. 

Taking your hand in his, he leads you to his bedroom. As he opens the door you're met with at least twenty different tiger stuffed animals staring at you. Soonyoung on the other hand isn’t phased at all, if anything, he takes pride in his plushie collection. 

“Do you… collect all of these?” you ask him, and he just smiles and nods. 

You decide to have a conversation about the plushie collection another day, but you do find it cute that he’s into something seemingly harmless. 

Sitting on his bed, he doesn’t take his place beside you right away. Instead, Soonyoung carefully turns each tiger plushie around so that they’re all facing away from his bed. He turns back at your figure sitting on his mattress, a shy smile across his lips. 

“Can’t have them witnessing what we’re about to do y’know,” he giggles before turning the last tiger around. 

Once he is finally done, he jumps into the bed and smothers you tightly in his strong arms. You’re not over the whole tiger thing, but at least he’s happy, you think to yourself. 

“Now where were we?” He looks at you, eyes still glittering even in the dim lighting of his room. 

You shake your head and smile at him, pushing him down so that he's lying with his back against the bed. Each of your legs moves over his hips, hands feeling up his chest. 

Leaning closer, you two share your first kiss, and it’s everything you’ve hoped for. The two of you move together in perfect sync as he grabs your sides tightly. 

“You’re a good kisser,” you mumble against him, and he just smiles as he pulls you into another kiss. 

His hands move lower on your body, your skirt hiking up your thighs as he grips at your flesh. Your skin is so soft, and he can’t get over how sweet your lips taste. Soonyoung knows if he were to miraculously die now, he would die a very happy man. 

Soft moans leave your mouth as he gropes your ass under your skirt, feeling the way your lack of clothes leaves more for him to grasp at. He can’t stop touching you, exploring your body like it’s his and his only to discover. The fact that you even agreed to let him be your boyfriend was enough for him, but also getting laid on the same night, well, Soonyoung could really die a happy man. 

The kiss becomes heated with each second that passes, but Soonyoung just wants to let you know how much he likes you. You invade his thoughts relentlessly, not that he’s opposed to it at all. But he likes the way you smile at him every time he tells you how much he wants to be with you. 

“I’m so happy you’re mine,” he whispers to you, your smile widening even more. 

“I’m happy you’re mine too,” you repeat his words again, giving him the same reassurance he gives you. 

Out of all the people you could fall for, you’re happy it was your clumsy coworker with an oddly large tiger collection. You’re thankful for the fact that out of all the people, he was the one to help you on that rainy day. Even when it’s gloomy outside and the clouds cover every inch of the sun’s rays, Soonyoung still glows under the grey sky. Rain or shine, you want him no matter how good or bad the weather is.

Ⱄ a/n: if u want more of them please lmk hehe, and if u liked this story please leave a like or a reblog hehe it is very much appreciated :3 thank you ♡ p.s rain or shine is an actual ice cream shop in bc heheh

Ⱄ perm tag-list: @christinewithluv @todorokiskitten @peachescreamandcrumble @minwonfairy @oneandonlyluvv @ihrtmingyu @tigerhoshii @sleepzyy @luveveryonewoo @thepoopdokyeomtouched @chan-s-laptop @aksweet7 @leah-rose03 @woofie-nctzen-fanarts @gyuguys @crystal-rhyming @jenoxygen @hoshhhiiiii @babigriin @bouclesdefeu @mingyuecstacy @iluvseokmin @odevote118 @wonvsmile @suga-bitch @chickpea-jimin @lar3ine @bias-recs @hanniebub @iluvmingi @vapidlynn @aaniag @yogurttea @blurr3db3rry @lovejoshua @woozixo @drunk-on-dk @noiceoofed @angelfeverdream @leahhhher @hanniebwii @yuyunhoo @whowantshota @hannniiiiiehae @afslme @writingbarnes

[halfvalid]

Hey! Since your requests are open, may I request opla!Zoro x reader (established relationship) where the reader has a lot of self doubt (not only in their looks, but their abilities and their place in the crew) since it’s, unfortunately, been shoved done their throat by pretty much eveyone they knew, even their parents, that they would never be good enough? Maybe Zoro figures out that they have sort of been spiralling lately and they have a talk about the readers past and the problems they’re facing and he comforts them? Maybe it ends sort of spicy or turns out full on spicy, if you’re comfortable with that!

daybreak

ABOUT

alternate title: some fluffy established relationship hurt/comfort to save my soul

rating: teen & up

characters: live action!roronoa zoro | fem!reader

pairing: live action!roronoa zoro x fem!reader

word count: 2.9k (short; sorry!)

description: zoro notices you've been seeming off recently, and you confide in him your insecure feelings of self-worth. he comforts you.

tags: strawhat!reader, established relationship, fluff, emotional hurt/comfort, kissing, no use of ‘y/n’, soft zoro, ridiculously stupidly absolutely horrifyingly fluffy. 

author’s note: thank you so much for the very lovely request! i hope i did your prompt justice; i ended up not writing any spice at the end (just slightly suggestive) since i didn't think it fit the story but i hope you like it anyway ^^

it feels slightly ooc, but i also wrote it in the span of two hours at 1:00 am so can you really blame me. 

It was morning on the Going Merry, and you were cleaning up the wreckage that had been scattered along the deck in your last battle. The crew had gone up against some other pirates; it’d been late at night, and the attack had come suddenly, what you’d thought would be a peaceful docking turning combative quickly. 

You barely remembered the fight. One moment, the warning bell had sounded, and the next Zoro was rolling out of bed beside you, grabbing his swords and darting out of your bedroom before you could even register what was happening. The fight had gone in the Straw Hats’ favor, thankfully; Zoro, Luffy, and Sanji had fended off most of the threat, and you were back on the open sea, safe from enemies for at least a little while now. 

You let out a sigh as you swept shattered glass into a dustpan, shaking out the collected trash into a nearby empty barrel. None of the men usually bothered to start cleaning up—typical—so you’d pulled yourself out of bed as early as possible to get the ship looking a little more like normal. 

Zoro had left some corpses on the deck for you to deal with, and you’d had to toss them overboard, a grimace tugging at your lips as blood stained the white of your blouse. No matter. You’d finished sweeping, at least; all you had left to do was mop, right as everyone else was waking up. 

You filled a bucket with warm water and soap, and were just grabbing the mop from the closet when you heard footsteps. You glanced up, surprised to see Zoro heading towards you, one hand grasped loosely around his sword handle as always. “You’re up early,” he said, casual as ever. “Woke up and you were gone.” 

“Figured I should get a head start on cleaning,” you answered quickly, not meeting Zoro’s eyes as you dunked the mop into the bucket. His brows creased as he watched you start mopping, pushing the handle along the deck to wipe it clear of bloodstains. 

“How long have you been doing this?” Zoro asked, after a few seconds of delayed silence. You shrugged, dunking your mop again before going for another few swipes. “We can help clean too, you know.” 

“It’s the least I can do,” you protested. You moved past him, trying very hard not to meet his eyes—but Zoro didn’t let you pass, one hand going out to grab the mop rod and stopping you in your tracks. “What?” 

“What do you mean, least you could do?” Zoro asked blankly. 

“I mean—” you shrugged, muscles limp like your entire body was sagging you down. “You and the others were the ones to deal with the pirates, so I figured I could at least—”

Zoro still looked confused, brows pulled together, forehead taut with a frown. “I distinctly recall you throwing a pirate twice your size overboard. Unless I was imagining things.” 

You sighed. “Not what I meant.” You tried to push past Zoro again, but he didn’t let you, hand still tightly grasped around your mop handle. 

“Okay, what did you mean, then?” 

“Nothing. Will you just let me finish cleaning so there aren't blood stains all over Luffy’s ship?” You sighed again, even as you attempted to keep the sound inside—but you couldn’t help it. It was like there was an anchor stuck inside of you, pulling everything from your feelings to your body down, the weight of gravity tugging at your features. 

“Luffy’s ship?” 

You shrugged. “The Straw Hats’ ship. Whatever.” 

“Our ship,” Zoro said. There was a certain twinge of something in his words; still blankness, but laced with a dawning realization that you weren’t sure you liked. “You’re upset.” 

“Nope.” This time you really did manage to get free of Zoro’s grasp, yanking your mop out of his grip and starting back on cleaning the deck. The acrid smell of iron hit your nose as you scrubbed the dried blood off—you’d have to go back in later with a sponge to get all the cracks and crevices, but for now this would be okay. 

Zoro followed you, unceasing with his interrogation. “Yes, you are. I know when you’re upset, and you’re upset. What happened.” It was more of a statement than a question—Zoro didn’t often doubt himself, really, which was one of the many things that’d helped make you stumble into falling for him. “Was it about last night? You know the cook's just making fun when he keeps a counter, right? It doesn’t matter if he brought two or five more men down than you.” 

“It’s not about that,” you insisted. 

“So you admit you are upset.” 

You groaned, finally turning to look Zoro in the eye. He’d stopped walking, the dawning sun glinting hazey gold onto his skin in the early hour. There was still an overcast of blue from the night in the sky, and it made the heavens look ethereal, watery and glittering. 

“Come on,” he urged. “Just tell me what’s wrong.” 

“It’s really nothing you need to be concerned about,” you attempted, but your voice was weak now. Zoro stepped closer to you, gently pulling the mop out of your hands. Your fingers let go easily. “It’s silly.” 

Zoro gave you a look. “Out with it.” 

“I don’t know, I just—” your fingers clenched, like your hand was trying to find something to do now that Zoro had rid you of your mop. “Comparatively I just don’t do much. So I want to help out as much as possible.” 

“Who said you don’t do much?” 

“What?” 

“I don’t think I need to repeat myself,” Zoro said. He let the mop fall to the ground, arms crossing over his chest as he watched you. “Who said you don’t do much?”

“I mean, nobody. It’s just true.” You shrugged, distinctly uncomfortable with the way Zoro was looking at you—all attentive, like he was trying to strip you raw with his eyes, uncover whatever secrets might be hiding in the pores of your skin and the gaps of your teeth. “Luffy’s the captain, we wouldn’t be able to do anything without Nami, you and Sanji are the fighters, and Usopp’s everyone’s favorite. I’m just kind of… filler?” 

The more you spoke, the worse your words got, your tone turning more desperate as the sentences fumbled out of your mouth. Zoro’s eyebrows raised higher as you went on, and you flushed, red prickling all over your skin. 

“First of all,” he started, “Usopp is not my favorite. That’d be you. And—where are you getting this from?” 

You shook your head, trying to backtrack. “Nothing. Nowhere. It’s not that import—”

“Yes, it is, and we’re talking about it.” Zoro pulled a nearby barrel by the side of the ship, plopping himself down atop it and gesturing for you to sit. You didn’t, but you did move over to the railing, hands curling around the painted wood. “Speak.” 

“I have nothing to say,” you tried. Zoro just shot you an unimpressed look, and you squirmed. “Fine. I don’t know. I joined last, so I just figured… you were all kind of already set without me, right?” 

Zoro shook his head. “We’re a crew,” he said, voice strong but somehow still gentle. “You’re part of us for a reason. What, this entire time did you think you were—expendable?” 

You fidgeted uncomfortably, weight shifting from one leg to the other. “No.” 

“Don’t lie.” 

“Yes. No. I don’t know. Last night—I only got, like what, two guys? And you reacted way faster to the situation than I did,” you started, words flailing around on your tongue as they rushed out. It was indelicate, for certain, and you yourself couldn’t make sense of most of the words—but once you started, you couldn’t stop, even as they slurred together. “I was still getting out of bed and grabbing my weapon when you’d already dealt with half the enemy crew.” 

“Don’t compare yourself to me,” Zoro said with a shake of his head. “That’s not fair. I’ve been training since I was eight. It’s different.” 

You huffed out an exasperated breath, trying not to let your frustration get the best of you. “I can't help it sometimes. It’s a bad habit.” You loosened your grip on the ship railing, staring out at the golden clouds hovering over the sky.  “Sorry.” 

“Don’t apologize,” Zoro answered. He didn’t say anything after that—giving you a space to talk, you supposed, in case you wanted to. But his hand did reach up to press against yours, pinky brushing against your finger as he held onto the railing beside you. 

“I guess I just always had these standards back at the village,” you managed out eventually. Your island had always been one of the more traditional places in the East Blue, and there were plenty rules and guidelines abound. One of the many reasons you’d left the place in favor for Luffy and the Going Merry, really. “So I just… always want to do more. It’s not that bad.” 

“Right.” Zoro’s pinky looped around your finger, now, holding it close in a soft kiss of the hands. You sighed. 

“My parents were kind of rough on me, I guess,” you tried, sneaking a glance over at Zoro’s face to see if it satiated his curiosity at all. His expression remained as steel as ever, so you just continued. “They wanted me to be the best I could. But their standards were too high, even when I was little.” You found yourself rubbing circles into the back of Zoro’s hand with your finger, more so to comfort yourself than for any other reason. “Just normal stuff, like being upset about my school grades or my combat training levels being too low. Nothing that terrible.” 

“But…?” Zoro asked, tilting his head up to look at you. You smiled, but the action didn’t reach your eyes—it was all mouth and jaw, cheeks lifting but eyes glinting with the same glazed stare. 

“It just affected me a lot, I suppose,” you answered. “Always trying to get better. Never satisfied. And I guess now—I don’t know. I don’t think I’ll ever be good enough.” 

“For?” Zoro asked. His voice was low, soft, all hollow and empty inside. There was a tinge of roughness lacing it, like he’d forgotten to clear his throat, and the scratch of his vocal chords had surfaced up along with the words. 

“Myself. My parents. Luffy. You.” Your lips tightened into a line. Vaguely, you could feel the warm pinpricks of tears starting at your waterline, and you tried to will them back, letting out a little laugh. “Everyone, I guess.” 

Zoro’s hand had come to hold yours fully, fingers woven in between yours, thumb pressed firmly against the joint of your thumb. Somehow, that one motion managed to force the last of the words out of you—all wet and soft, eyes glued fiercely to the horizon in fear of seeing what was etched on Zoro’s face. 

“We do arranged marriages back at home,” you started, trying very hard to keep your voice from trembling. it worked only marginally—there was a tiny quaver in your tone, but it was soft, not noticeable unless you were really listening hard. “And my mom used to tell me I’d die alone. Because I wasn’t pretty enough, or smart enough, or anything enough for any of the boys there.” 

“Oh,” Zoro said. It was quiet; barely a whisper. You tried for a wry smile. 

“I like helping, though. I don’t mind cleaning up or whatever. It makes me feel more useful.” You tried to tug your hand out of Zoro’s grip, but his fingers tightened, keeping you in place. A nervous laugh escaped your throat. “And I know I’m part of the crew and all of this is just silly. So it’s really fine—”

Zoro tugged your intertwined hands to his chest, causing you to stumble and glance down at him in surprise. His expression was nearly unreadable. It’d darkened, and there was a contemplative gaze in his eyes, lips parted with invisible words perched on his tongue. “Don’t do that,” he whispered, and your stomach dropped, the nervousness that had gathered inside during the conversation tightening up into a hall. “Don’t say it’s okay or that it’s not important. If it’s making you upset, then it matters.” 

“I guess,” you tried, and Zoro’s gaze lifted to fix you with a glare. “Sorry.” 

“It’s okay, I just…” Zoro shook his head. “Look, whatever your parents used to tell you, whatever you have ingrained in your head—it’s not true. And there’s nothing wrong with wanting to do more, but… you don’t have to do it. You’re enough already.” 

Your gaze softened, lips falling open to say something, but Zoro wasn’t finished yet. “You shouldn’t come out here and force yourself to clean up just to make up for your—waste of space, or something. You’re not a servant. And you’re not wasting up any space. I think everyone would agree that you’re a very important and vital part of the crew.” 

“Thanks,” you whispered. Zoro’s hand was warm around yours, and you felt the threatening droplets of tears start to rise up at your waterline, ready to fall at any moment now. Zoro just nodded. 

“You’re a great fighter, and way smarter than what you give yourself credit for,” he said firmly. He raised your hand to his mouth, then, leaning over to press a feather-light kiss to your knuckles. “And the boys on your island have to be blind, because you’re pretty enough. You’re more than pretty enough.”

He whispered the last words, all soft and sacred on his tongue. “You’re beautiful.” 

That was enough to drive your tears over the edge. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to stop the flow as the warm sensation of liquid streaking down your cheeks began. Droplets caught in the crevice of your lips, and at the hinge of your jaw—Zoro brought a hand up to wipe them away. “Are you okay?” he whispered. 

“Yeah, I just, um.” You shook your head, sniffing. “Thank you. That… helped. I think.” 

Zoro bummed out his response. “Of course,” he said easily. “You’re my girl. It’s my job to cheer you up.” He kissed your knuckles again. “And you can talk to any of us. I’m not really the best at this, but everyone else…” he shrugged. 

“You’re doing just fine,” you assured him. Zoro nodded, tugging you down until you finally took a seat on a crate beside him. “I think it’s just been worse lately.” 

“If it makes you feel any better, I think you’re better than the waiter,” Zoro said. You just laughed. 

“I think you’re biased, but thank you,” you said. “Here, I, um, I promise I’ll let you know if I’m feeling down, I guess. If you don’t mind.” 

“Definitely don’t mind,” Zoro answered. This time he placed a gentle kiss on your neck, somewhere at the bottom near the back. “Leave the mopping for someone else. You’ve already done a lot.” 

“Okay,” you whispered, eyes fluttering closed as Zoro kissed the rest of the way up the back of your neck. He placed a final one right below your earlobe. With that, Zoro stood up, sweeping one arm under your legs and hoisting you up. You cracked open an eye to regard him with a blank look. “What are you doing?” 

“Bringing you back to my room,” Zoro answered. “You didn’t get much sleep tonight. And I doubt anyone wants to watch me kissing you on the main deck anyway.” 

That was fair enough reasoning, so you didn’t complain, letting him carry you all the way to his cabin and gently lay you down onto his bed. He leaned over to press a gentle kiss to your lips—you could still taste the saltwater from your tears from before. “Want me to stay?” Zoro asked. 

“You don’t have to,” you said automatically, and Zoro raised both his eyebrows. You let out a sigh. “Okay, I get it. Yes. Please stay.” 

“All you had to say,” Zoro said, shedding himself of his shoes and swords before leaning over the bed to watch you. He didn’t slip under the covers or anything, just propped an arm up on the mattress, kneeling beside the bed. There was tender silence for a few moments before Zoro spoke again. 

“I love you,” he said abruptly, voice rough but somehow still soft. Your heart beat too fast in your chest, ribcage squeezing in on the organ and making it skip. His hand slid along the mattress to find yours, and you took the offer, fingers clasping around his palm. 

“I love you too,” you whispered back. Zoe leaned over, then, the hand not intertwined with yours tilting your jaw over just so to allow him better access to your mouth. He kissed you full-on, tender but firm, mouth working against yours in a way that unraveled you entirely. Your grip on his hand tightened as he deepened the kiss, a soft sound emitting from low in your throat. Finally you broke apart, heaving for breath, exhales mixing together midair. An exchange of souls, you’d heard once, somewhere. 

“Come on,” you murmured, tugging Zoro closer to the bed so he got the hint. He slipped beside you onto it, turning your head again to meet you in another kiss. His hand drifted down to your waist, holding you securely in place.  

“I don’t think anyone should need us for a few more hours, right?” Zoro asked, and you laughed. He swallowed up the sounds with his mouth, tongue licking languidly into you as he rubbed delicate circles into the skin of your waist. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered, and then he was kissing you again. 

You let him siphon the soul out of your lungs, knowing you were getting his right back. 

© halfvalid 2023

[jiminrings]

fail-safe

pairing: yoongi x reader

wordcount: 8k

glimpse: growing up, your brother's best friend always berated you for not having a passion in life outside of loving him from afar. when yoongi leaves everything he's ever known for everything he's ever wanted, trying to move on from him becomes your biggest aspiration.

alternatively, yoongi left when you needed him the most, and comes back home at a time when you love him the least.

[ part one, intermission, part two, intermission 02, finale ]

[ a Lot of angst, eventual fluff, brother's best friend AND single dad au, So Much Yearning, unrequited love (initial), jealousy, self-deprecation, a lot of talk abt passion in an empty n hurtful way that most impassioned youngest children feel (it's a specific feeling idk!!!), eventual redemption in the next parts ]

notes: finally got to writing a new series!!! i'm beyond excited for this + this whole new concept and flow i haven't touched on before <3 i hope u love fail-safe as much as i do :-)

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!! | series masterlist

Yoongi buys atleast one scratch ticket a week.

The accessibility of buying one is top-notch considering that all he has to do is cross the street, shoot one look to the cashier, and he can either already go hunch in the corner of the road or in the comfort of his room. The moment his coin takes its first dig and he realizes that he’s won yet again, he’s satisfied enough not to buy another ticket.

He doesn’t want to risk losing the win he’s just gained, the odds of him throwing out money besting his chances in adding to his earnings. He thinks everyone’s a little greedy one way or another, but it’s the righteous part of him that thinks he’s different.

You do think that he is for all the right reasons, your vision only tunneling for him alone. He’s this fixed older figure in your life and you can’t figure out how to shrug him off — he’s this generous leech that sucks all of the rationality from your mind but returns it to you twofold, whether in the form of him saying something unintentionally endearing that it makes your chest hurt, or through him having to lightly smack the back of your head.

Yoongi’s your older brother’s best friend and there’s a novelty tag that comes with him, one that can’t be topped by any material possession to your name. He’s there for you, not in the exact way you want him to be, but nonetheless there. He’s special and unattainable at the same time, the finiteness of his love barely extending to you.

He’s there when you want him to burn the latest songs onto a CD you’ve spent all your allowance in, and he’s there when you get annoyed that he sneaked some of his own recommendations in there. You’re there when you later admit that his suggestions aren’t half-bad, and you also happen to be there when he grins at the praise.

He’s there when Namjoon won’t cough up the last slice of his cutlet, not because he’ll actually give you his, but because he’ll help your brother guard his plate. You’d only have to mope for a solid of three seconds before the two of them give up both of their last slices, and you’re there when Yoongi insists for you to try the sauce in the spirit of going out of your routine.

You don’t need Yoongi every single time but in the event that you do, he hangs back. He contemplates and hesitates and doesn’t give in to every single whim that you have, but he’ll be there. He lingers like the last holiday ornament you don’t want to remove until it’s February, his presence being oddly similar to your favorite festivities.

Yoongi’s the equivalent of a holiday you look forward to with each passing month and day; he comes around to and for you in instances, but never even in your most sincere wishes.

“I buy one scratch ticket a week — three if I’m really feeling lucky. When my palms itch, that’s when I know that I really need to buy them.”

He’s calm and collected even when you’re scrunching your nose up at him in combined worry and disbelief, humming mindlessly as you collect your thoughts. He randomly told you about his lottery routine and you’re still trying to wrap your head around how he blows his money off just easily. Yoongi has the mind to put scrap cardboard under you because sitting on the hot concrete with your uniform on can’t possible be a good idea, but you try to play off your fluster into stubbornness.

He’s just playing with his two ever-present coins (lucky charms as he calls them)— one that’s shiny and minted in the present year, the other being the oldest coin he’s ever had that happens to be older than he is — while you mutter about.

“I don’t know, Yoongs. That might be a gambling problem,” you squint, your side comment being heard clearly as day. “Might be the symptoms for hand, foot, and mouth disease too.”

“What— I do not have a gambling problem! My skin’s perfectly fine too, thanks,” he defends, the light shove he gives you doing nothing to tone down your teasing.

“That’s what people with gambling problems say.”

“Give me that-…” he mutters, trying to wrestle you for the sundae he bought you using the money he won from his scratch ticket just awhile ago. You don’t give in easily, even if your laughs that come straight from your chest suggest otherwise. “You don’t get it. It’s just this nice, fun little thing I can look forward to every week. I always buy the cheapest version anyway so when I lose, it’s not a big deal.”

You relent (like you always do when it comes to Yoongi) in understanding, waving him off after regaining your breath. “Nah. I get it. We all have to do things so we wouldn’t lose our shit,” you trail, racking your head to find the right words.“Yours is buying scratch tickets, and mine is-…”

“Yours is what?” Yoongi raises an eyebrow, lips quirked in eagerness to know where you’re going with this. He can’t pinpoint a single thing he can attach to you and neither can you, your actual interests merely reflecting those of the people whom you love.

You love cross-stitching because your mom loves doing it, the tolerance you have for accidentally being pricked by the needle growing over time.

You enjoy playing badminton because Namjoon’s obsessed with the sport, no matter how ratty your rackets and shuttlecocks have become, and no matter how much he pushes you to ring the doorbell to your neighbor’s when he’s sent it flying to their backyard.

You’re probably an imposter yet you don’t feel like it. You don’t feel bad that your life most probably and will only revolve around your mom and Namjoon (maybe even Yoongi); you don’t feel dissatisfied that your life’s mundane. 

You go where your love goes.

“Mine is watching you buy scratch tickets,” you shrug easily as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, making him laugh heartily. You’ve probably done something right because he hauls you up to your feet immediately.

“Get up. I’m buying you your first ticket,” he nudges you, grabbing you by the arm in excitement.

“But I’m not even legal!” you half-heartedly argue, internally excited that you’re finally getting to try your hand at the lottery because you’ve spent a few hundred minutes of your life tuned to the channel to pass the time, awaiting the results for something you haven’t even betted for.

“Right. Like I haven’t seen you trying to squeeze out a drop of beer from our empty cans whenever Namjoon and I drink.”

“Rude,” you roll your eyes playfully, gathering your things from the ground.

“It’s okay. I’ll give you your first sip of beer too if you want,” Yoongi offers sincerely; easily as if you’ve just asked him about the weather.

He’s here to buy you your first scratch ticket, and he’s still here to offer giving you your first sip of liquor in the future.

Your family friend for a cashier vehemently ignores the fact that you’re still underage to participate in the lottery, and instead only chuckles to herself in amusement. She’s an aunt that knows when to step in and not to, and she knows you won’t be harmed by a mere bet. In fact, she knows you won’t be harmed by anything with Yoongi in tow.

“I already used up all my change,” your frown in realization, holding the ticket in your hands in despair despite having scoured your wallet repeatedly.

“Rub it against the pavement. That’s what I do,” Yoongi lies fluidly, a scoff being caught in his throat when you actually attempt to do it.  “I was only kidding, Y/N. Jeez,” he groans, pulling out his wallet. “Ugh. Here. You can have one of my lucky coins.”

It’s the old one, tarnished beyond relief that you can barely recognize what it’s actual value is supposed to be.

“Ew. I’m giving it back. It looks prehistoric,” you narrow your eyes, knowing that you don’t even have to put your fingers nears your nose to know that it’s already left a faint stench on them.

Yoongi rolls his eyes, a habit he can’t tell he’s formed himself or got from you. “If you use your brain for one second, you’d realize that it’s actually worth more because it’s older. Collectors would go crazy for that in the future.”

“That sounds like a hoarding problem.”

He’s just had about enough of your whining so he attempts to trade in the old coin for his lucky new one, but you stop him at the last minute with a meek smile.

“Kidding. Thank you. I’ll keep it safe, Yoongi. I promise,” you rush out before he changes his mind, scratching your ticket in silence.

He waits for you because you’re scratching so politely and neatly, a stark opposite to his experienced skill of scratching the paint off in ten strokes or less.

Your face is too close to the ticket that Yoongi can’t tell what’s happening, making him part your hair like a curtain to peek.

“Did you win?”

“Nope.”

“Let me throw that out for you.”

“No!” you squeak, keeping the ticket close to your chest. It’s a bummer that your first time is a loss, but it didn’t mean that you wanted to forget the sentiment behind it. “I-I mean no, I’ll keep it. It’s memorable now that I think about it.”

“Alright,” he shrugs carelessly, a smile breaking out in retaliation. “Hoarder.”

“Gambler,” you spit, tucking the ticket into your pencil case. “Next week again?”

Yoongi agrees, wrapping his head around the fact that he doesn’t have to be alone in his little routine every Friday.

“Sure.”

( ♡ )

You don’t mind getting hand-me-downs.

As a matter of fact, you love receiving them. The wear and tear of the things that came before you is only proof that it’s been loved enough to be passed on to you.

You adore your mother’s dainty vintage watch that she wore throughout college, the hardware and sentiment behind it being pretty enough that you don’t mind constantly getting the battery replaced. You like Namjoon’s shirts that he’s outgrown, even through the numerous phases he’s had wherein only denim and tie-dye filled his closet.

You don’t mind the history behind the numerous things you have in your home, unbothered that you’re probably the only house in the block with the oldest possible rice cooker. The chips in the staircase aren’t covered up with marker ink and neither are the loose stitches in the couch quilt snipped off. It’s home to your mother and Namjoon — if it’s good enough for them, then it’s already the best for you.

Even on top of everything, you don’t mind your family almost always getting you shirts and shoes that have an allowance in them. Your mom would go to Seoul and pick out the exact pair of sneakers you wanted that are atleast three sizes bigger than your actual feet, and you’d barely bat an eye. 

You don’t mind the coziness of things that are brought to you, because even if they weren’t offered, you’d seek them yourself. 

So when Yoongi mentioned that he’s decluttering his room and needed someone (read: you) to vacuum it up for him, you jump at the chance. You take a grocery bag with you, wear the nearest pair of slippers within your vicinity, and book it to his house as soon as he finished talking.

“Go crazy, kid. Almost everything in that pile is garbage so you can take anything.”

“I feel like I should be more offended than how I feel right now,” you hum, furrowing your eyebrows at the pile in front of you. It’s a mound of Yoongi, or atleast everything he’s ever wanted up until he decided to do a general cleaning of his bedroom.

Yoongi chuckles, going through his pile of clean laundry for him to fold on the side while you scavenge for his things. “It’s either I have you take them or I get ripped off at the thrift store, then I see somebody’s uncle wearing my shirt as an added insult.”

You huff, rummaging through his heap of belongings while conveniently trying to ignore that you may look like somebody’s uncle the moment you wear his clothes. Everything is him; every distressed cap, every unfinished embroidered shirt, and every item of old significance with his initials branded on it.

The thick gray hoodie you’ve been eyeing (along with its owner) for the better part of the last few years surfaces into your field of vision, your gasp audible enough to make him jolt because he thought you’d gotten hurt.

“No way, this too? But this is your favorite,” you half-complain and half-rejoice, turning the hoodie inside-out eagerly in the fear that there’s a catch to it belonging in the pile.

“Eh. I know it looked good on me but I don’t think it’s my favorite. Besides, I’ve bulked up! Wanna feel?” Yoongi grins, his segue eerily similar to your brother’s at every given chance. A neighbor from down the block recently opened a small-time gym, and the both of them have not been able to shut their mouths about it since. From their gossiping alone, Yoongi and Namjoon have generated enough advertising already.

“You and Namjoon really have to stop asking random people to feel your biceps.”

There’s random knick-knacks throughout the clump in the middle of his bed, some being too good and actually useful that you snag them. Yoongi lets you do what you want anyways (most of the time), not having to turn his head to berate you on what you’re only allowed to grab from his stuff.

You’re not greedy — you already have his hoodie and that should be enough on its own. But there’s that handkerchief with his initials embroidered on it, then that Rubik’s cube he swore his relative got for him from New York, and even the little butterfly knife he got from a souvenir shop when his family when to the beach.

There were those and there is this, looking up at you in all of its glory.

“Yoongi.” 

“What now?” he sighs at your dramatic gasp, looking up from his folded laundry to see what you were going on about. It takes a second for him to fully realize why exactly were you so pumped.

“Are you serious? Your helmet?” you squeal, already hugging the shiny red mass close to you. “Does this mean you’re passing your motorcycle to me?!”

“Are you crazy? Fuck no,” Yoongi rolls his eyes, snatching his helmet back from you. He doesn’t miss the bratty frown that fills up your entire face; he’s not exactly the biggest fan whenever you were upset or angry; maybe even both. “Obviously I forgot I even put my helmet there when I made that pile.”

You whine, stomping your feet in exasperation. You would dramatically plop down on his bed if only it wasn’t full of his shit. “Come on! You told me you were teaching me as soon as you finish teaching Joon.”

“Teaching you how to ride my scooter is not the same as giving you it. Why would I just hand you what I bought with my hard-earned money?” Yoongi scrunches his nose, tone sharper than what he intended.

“But you still haven’t taught me,” you murmur to placate yourself and dissuade yourself from the delusion that Yoongi would even exert such an effort for you because of course — why would he do that for you?

You have an inkling that you’re being irrational for all the wrong reasons, perhaps even projecting your need to be looked after… by him.

Yoongi notices your mood that turned sour quickly, the silence between you becoming loaded. He didn’t mean to be that blunt. “I don’t think you’re even old enough to have your driving permit,” he adds in consolation, voice considerably softer.

You snicker lowly, still looking at your feet with your arms crossed. “But I’m old enough to backpack whenever you need me to carry shit that can’t fit in your carrier.”

He immediately groans at your comeback, his furrowed eyebrows mirroring yours. “You’re so stubborn.”

“You’re a hypocrite,” you retort, knowing for a fact he’s known how to drive even before he was eligible for permits and licenses and whatnot. 

Yoongi takes one, two seconds to himself to regain his composure, clearing his head in the process. You’re still not looking at him and you’re pouting and you don’t even notice the latter, making him crack a small smile.

“I will teach you next week.”

“Oh my-…”

He cuts you off, raising his hand in emphasis. “Provided that you listen to everything I say and wear full gear at all times. You clearly don’t have a job yet-…”

“Ouch.”

“And I don’t have the extra money to buy full gear for myself, so what you’ll do is bundle up with your padded coat and the thickest jeans you have,” Yoongi enunciates every word, eyes keenly on you. They’re too wide and alert, you actually feel like listening to him.

“You go on rides wearing your pajamas.”

“Just say ‘thank you, Yoongi’.” 

“You haven’t done anything yet,” you trail off, head tilting in confusion. 

You’ve had a million conversations like this with Yoongi before but of different fonts; worn, familiar, and warm.

“Thank you, Yoongi,” he mouths, nodding at you to do the same. He won’t stop until you utter them back to him, and you know you won’t go home either without giving him your gratitude as you always do.

“Thank you, Yoongi,” you relent, the grin that breaks through your lips being infectious enough that he laughs lowly to himself.

He exhales all the worries he has and could possibly ever have seeing you ride the motorcycle (or for you yearning to do everything that he does), grasping at whatever sanity he has left from looking after you.

“You can have the helmet.”

( ♡ )

Yoongi knows the ins and outs of your home.

He’s been at your house too much to the point that your mom already gave him a spare key and nobody batted an eye about it. He has his own designated slippers at the entryway too, something you would only use in a hurry if you needed to sign off on a package.

Yoongi, for some reason unfathomable (not really; you can tell exactly why because your mom is an extremely warm and inviting person), also has the power of dibs on the food in your fridge. He’d put strips of masking tape with his name on food that’s neither brought in nor made for him in the first place. 

It should be off-putting — the way that for too many yet too little reason, Yoongi has become a prominent figure in your life even if you didn’t ask him to. You should be peeved that you have to set up four plates more often that you set up only three; you should be annoyed at some point that when you wake up at random times through the night, you’re not totally alone to begin with.

You shouldbe angry at Yoongi to a degree because he’s in your life and you don’t get to have a say on how he stays in it. The only problem is that you’re not, and probably never will.

“Can’t sleep?” you mutter as you look up from your strikingly clear paper, seeing Yoongi strut across the floor with a casualness that only real occupants of the house should supposedly possess. He has his brows furrowed at you as if he didn’t expect to see you in your living room, scratching his head in wonder.

“Why are you up?”

“Stressed,” you sigh, giving up altogether in attempting to make yourself look busy. Yoongi drives by your fridge to get himself a can of beer, finally seating himself beside you on the floor. 

“Stressed about what? I’m sure it’s not about studying,” he snorts, unsurprised at your paper and the clear lack of motivation behind it. You only roll your eyes at him and he has half a mind to not remind you to not do it so much, the frown in your face reminding him that you really were frustrated.

It is you to throw the occasional tantrum, but he remembers that it was only when you were young; when Namjoon would whisper gibberish to his ear and purposely not whisper to yours just so he could tease you, or when nobody would believe that you taught yourself how to ride a bike with no training wheels. You didn’t know how to do the latter at all, but what had made you throw a tantrum was that nobody believed you.

You notice Yoongi’s digs, of course. You notice each one of his more than unsubtle nods to your intelligence and whatnot, the shots at your intellect not flying over your head like he expected them to.  You admit that you’ve never been that scholastic; you weren’t born a genius and you don’t try exactly hard either.

Yoongi’s only joking but you can’t help but to think that he’s pertaining to something deeper, his constant digs at your lack of a passion making you sluggish.

“We have to write this essay,” you answer simply, your tone straightforward and unwilling for banter but Yoongi bites anyway.

“But essays are the easiest,” he trails, looking at you the whole time as he takes a sip of his beer.

You exhale heavily because no matter what, he just can’t seem to get it. Yoongi knows where you’re coming from but he doesn’t know where you’re headed. As a matter of fact, you don’t know where you’re headed either. “We have to write an essay about where we see ourselves ten years from now.”

“But that’s still easy.”

“If it’s so easy, then go write it for me,” you snicker, leaning back with a huff. He constantly undermines you and although you own up to your striking mundaneness from time to time, it didn’t mean that you liked being looked down on. Yoongi’s too used to you being yourself, he gets taken aback when you grow sick of your own.

He gathers all his willpower, far from being sleepy unlike you who would’ve been lulled to sleep if only you weren’t dead-set on arguing with him. “You know what? I actually will,” he claps, handing you his beer. “Go hold this for me.”

Yoongi grips your pen for dear life like you hold his beer, his hand warm as he works from sheer determination alone (he’s not competing with anyone except for whatever expectation you have for him and your paper), while yours was cold just holding his drink.

You’ve been so quiet that he actually gets curious, turning his head to check to see if you’ve dozed off when actually, it’s just you eyeing the can.

“No one’s watching,” Yoongi breaks you out of your thoughts, carelessly shrugging. He cares and he’s far too concerned for you, but he figures that nothing would hurt you so long as he can grasp you. “It’s okay. You can have your first sip.”

You blink owlishly at him and when he jokes about taking it back, you take your first swig of beer in a panic. Yoongi only shakes his head in amusement, pausing his writing just to see the look on your face.

“One more?” he asks right after he sees you wince, the unbearable sweetness yet bitter, stinging aftertaste of the beer making you shudder. 

You have the urge to wash off the taste with ice cold water (you’ll even drink from the tap because you’re so desperate), but you resist it just so you wouldn’t look like a weakling in front of him. You wave him off with a bitterness, upset that beer doesn’t taste like what you’ve always imagined it to be. “Just write my essay for me,” you mull over the taste in your tongue, in deep thought while you stare at Yoongi’s back ahead of you. “Do all beers taste that way?”

“Eh. Most of them do. You develop a taste for it later on,” he answers, taking the can back from you before drinking it himself. He looks too dedicated in writing your essay, only goading the curiosity in you to peek over his shoulder.

He knows you, both in heart and memory, because he shields your own paper from you when he sees your shadow hovering above him.

“Yoongi?”

“Hm.”

“I told you why I’m up. Why are you up?”

He’s silent entirely, the only indication that he heard your question being his hand pausing abruptly. Yoongi doesn’t answer, and you don’t ask again. “Don’t worry about it.”

You take his answer to heart, dozing off on the couch before you know it. You don’t remember a blanket being placed on you, nor can you remember preparing your backpack for school the next day.

Your paper’s neatly tucked into your portfolio bearing handwriting that’s clearly not yours, but with a sentiment that’s similar nonetheless. You read through everything quickly before even stepping towards your teacher, the tips of your fingers just as cold as Yoongi’s beer last night.

You’ve committed the paper into your memory, even until the last part with an excerpt you can’t forget despite having passed the paper already. You don’t know what to feel because it’s Yoongi who’s speaking for you, detailing that ten years from now, you will still be your mother’s daughter and your brother’s sister.

He wrote your essay either for you or in behalf of you, and you can’t tell which one is better.

Yoongi, who knows the ins and outs of your home and the peaks and troughs of your heart, writes in clear handwriting — Ten years from now, I will still be Yoongi’s rock.

( ♡ )

Surprisingly, Yoongi hasn’t been around that much lately.

Even Namjoon (who you consider as his Siamese twin) is clueless to why his friend hasn’t been hanging out with him lately to do either everything or nothing, confused because they’re enrolled to the same classes all the way to the same part-time jobs, yet Yoongi’s been mostly unavailable.

When Yoongi is, however, he doesn’t speak at all about his previous absences. He comes as if he’s never disappeared a few times before that, his evasion to talk about his presence being apparent even if you’ve asked him directly.

You’re getting used to his new routine of hanging out with you only when the both of you are free, no longer moving mountains for both of your schedules to line up. He’s more present this month than he was at the last, the criteria for it being how many times you bump into him in your own home.

Despite all odds and evens though, Yoongi can’t get used to your silence. He knows you hold grudges longer than your brother, and the last time that he checked, he knows you’ve already let go of your annoyance for him suddenly being unavailable without any explanation. 

It’s late, only the two of you are awake in the living room, there’s ten scratch tickets on the table for you to share, and he’s even gotten you your own glass to which he’ll put a controlled amount (a grand total of two long sips) of his own beer in. You’re not stressing about an essay this time, but the unconscious pout on your face is still the same.

“You’re awfully quiet.”

The frown on your face only goes deeper at being found out, the scratch of your lucky coin being the only clear thing that Yoongi hears. 

“My best friends want to have this slumber party,” you sigh, more upset about what you’ve just uttered than you are happy about the cash prize you’ve just won.

Yoongi takes what you say at face-value, groaning at his third straight loss for the night. “That’s great. Wear cute pajamas, snap a couple of polaroids, don’t be the first to fall asleep and last to wake up, and just keep a pocket knife with you when you’re going out by yourself.” 

The awe (and slight concern) over what he said should roll in any time now.

You should be comforted at Yoongi’s words because they’re supposed to ease the swirl of your stomach, even if what he just said is a repackaged version of what your family said before. You should let go of your worries because Yoongi, of all people, says that it’s supposed to be great.

Instead, you feel neither of what you think Yoongi wants you to.

“Was it something I said?” he mumbles after some time, turning his nose up at you as he tries to retrace his words. “I have an extra pocket knife you can borrow if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“We’re gonna be talking about boys, Yoongi,” you screw your eyes shut, sighing into the palms of your hands with a heaviness. “We’re gonna talk about crushes and experiences and all that.”

He shudders at that, his reaction mirroring Namjoon’s when you tried opening up to him. You get your brother’s reaction to a degree, of course, because you feel as if you’d be disgusted too if the roles were reversed. You want to talk about it with your mom too, but at the end of the day, she’s your parent and you just can’t talk about anything and everything with her. 

Yoongi’s your next plausible option.

“Do you want some ice cream right now? You know what, I’ll buy you-…” Yoongi tries to evade the topic altogether, his attempt of escaping feeble as you drag him down by his hoodie.

“I haven’t had my first kiss yet.”

“Heh.”

Yoongi shrugs at that, regaining his words when you deadpan at him. “So? What about it?”

You starfish on the floor at that out of frustration, the whine you’ve been bottling up coming out in the open because as usual, Yoongi doesn’t get it. “I-I’m probably the only one in my grade who hasn’t kissed someone yet! I can’t just lie carelessly because obviously, they’ll ask around.”

“So?” Yoongi chuckles, his breeze towards your state shocking you. “What’s it to them if you haven’t had your first kiss?”

“You don’t get it,” you grit through your teeth, crossing your arms so hard that it feels hard to inhale.

“I’m pretty sure I do,” he sing-songs, drinking the last of his beer. When you’re not looking though, he plans to either drink or chuck the remainder of your share because he doesn’t want you to develop a taste for it.

The anger you have for Yoongi bubbles up once again, the itch in your throat unbearable. You’re presented with the age gap between you once more, along with the raging emptiness in you that Yoongi’s reached so far and you’ve reached so little.

“You don’t get it because you’ve had all of these experiences when you were younger than my age right now,” you snap, although you don’t look at him when you do. If you do look at him though, you’ll only be reminded of how a face like his could have everything in this world — even a first kiss you’ve never had.

“Yeah, and so?” he knits his brows, growing defensive. You weren’t lying at all, but he still feels a little offended at the dig. He’s not not proud of it, but with the way you say it, it’s like you want him to burn in shame,

“Stop saying so,” you angrily mumble in frustration, a little breathless because you still don’t ease up on crossing your arms.

Yoongi straightens his posture, staring you down with his jaw set. He’s stern as he is, nostrils flaring in irritation. “No, Y/N. I’m genuinely asking — so what? What’s it to you if I had my first kiss at a younger age? What about it if everyone else in your grade has kissed someone and you haven’t? It’s not the end of the world.”

“I-I don’t know! It’s just unfair!” you let up, yielding to both the facts that Yoongi’s right with it not being the end of the world, and that you’re still entitled to feeling upset.

“Instead of spending time obsessing over your first kiss, maybe I don’t know,  try being productive? You’re heading to college soon and you haven’t even thought of a career,” Yoongi goes off on you, making you roll your eyes automatically. There he goes again with the great big push of trying to push you into your supposed passions in life. “Someone else’s luck doesn’t mean it’s already your misfortune.”

“But it is.”

You say it so definitively, you almost convince him. You have your principles and so does Yoongi, but not everyone else. You have your principles yet you don’t have the luck. You’re not getting anywhere in life just like Yoongi or anyone else who was remotely born into wealth, no matter how quiet or obvious.

You can’t pursue something that interests you in the slightest without thinking what would come out of it. You can’t think of a degree and a course you’ll stick with, enough to do for the rest of your life because the only other option is to fail completely if you don’t. You have no plan and no passion and you don’t know if you’ll ever amount to anything to anyone at all.

By all means, you don’t agree with Yoongi this time. Someone else’s luck is your misfortune, in the same way that his first kiss doesn’t mean that it’s yours.

The sidetrack to your argument is a closed case already, judging by your downcast gaze. “I just have to put myself out there, that’s all. My first kiss doesn’t even have to mean anything. I just want to have it,” you admit, shoulders relaxing.

“Don’t,” Yoongi groans, the opposite of you as his whole body tenses.

He thinks that you don’t get him at all.

“What do you meandon’t?”

Your argument’s long-over (atleast you thought it was) but Yoongi’s getting more agitated by the minute, the disbelief on his face throwing you off. “Don’t do things just because you feel like you have to! Are you even hearing yourself right now?”

“I don’t want to be left behind, Yoongi! That’s all I’m trying to get at,” you raise your hands in surrender, shrugging thoughtlessly — it makes him want yell into a paper bag in exasperation. “I don’t want to be picked last. I don’t want to not be wanted.”

Yoongi exhales, screwing his eyes shut. It stays silent like that for a little while; him calming himself down, and you scratching your tickets. The calm doesn’t stay for long because you open your mouth carelessly, again.

“Can you be my first kiss?”

“Are you insane?”

“Ugh.”

You go back to your fourth scratch ticket, pouting in disappointment. You’re unfazed about the win that’s probably the largest sum you’ve had ever since you started doing the lottery.

You’re upset and you’re sick in the stomach but you stay silent like you never asked Yoongi to be your first kiss; it’s like you haven’t indirectly admitted to him that you love him enough, more than so, to want him to be your first.

You’re about to scratch the final ticket when Yoongi juts his hand out, fingers barely brushing yours to stop you.

“On second thought, don’t scratch that. Just keep it.”

“Because you want to turn me into a hoarder too?” you snicker, heeding his suggestion regardless.

“Because I’m not going to be right about everything,” Yoongi mumbles, looking at you with a solemnness you can’t decipher.

You try until the solemnness turns into pity.

“Still don’t want to be my first kiss?”

Yoongi softly laughs to your face, smiling as he lets you down — whether easily or harshly, you can’t tell.

“You already know what I’m going to say.”

( ♡ )

You’d like to think that you’re not kept in the dark about most things.

You already know that although your mom hasn’t had any relationships since your dad left, she still has plenty of suitors. Some of them are the reason why you have random food deliveries in the middle of the dinner that she’s already cooked, some have sucked up to her by getting you and Namjoon gifts. 

You know about Namjoon’s growing love for football, even with the lessons he takes in secret because he didn’t want to trouble your mom for the money. It’s why he does his part-time job and why you’re looking for one anyways. You don’t want nor need much, so you almost always give him the remainder of your allowance by the end of each week.

Yoongi, on the other hand, you don’t know much about. You know that he’s an only child with a doting mom who works overseas and a rich but emotionally unavailable dad at home, and that’s about it. His home life is synonymous with yours, considering that your four walls have become an extension of his.

Maybe you’ve become too lenient on him — either that, or he’s become too disrespectful. It’s at times like these where your house is not his home, sickeningly so that you don’t want it to be yours either.

Yoongi is a sight to behold as he makes out with a half-naked girl on your bed, in your room. Your room has never been the neatest but with everything going on, it feels that it’s become the dirtiest that it’s ever been. Your house slippers are on the floor even if you always leave them by the entryway, and your sheets are a mess despite being one of the only things you try to keep folded in the room.

You’re angry, too much to the point that the words get caught in your throat. They catch onto bile and venom and everything at once, the strain in your voice heard when you yell.

“What the fuck?!”

Yoongi and the girl, whom you figure out to be Hyewon that he’s shared his first kiss with, jolt in unison. Hyewon’s scared shitless while Yoongi’s annoyed to death, the grunt he lets out pricking your ears further. “Sorry, sorry. She’s my best friend’s sister. She’s so annoying,” he drags you out of your room before he even gives you the entitlement to storm out of there in a fit of rage, seeing red the longer that he seems upset at you.

“What the fuck was that, Yoongi?” you grit through your teeth, the moment of you seeing red turn into white because you’re so frustrated that you could actually cry. Your chest’s heavy, not only out of rage, but out of everything that’s built up in the course of years.

“Can you keep it down?” Yoongi seethes, pursing his lips. “What, would you rather see us do it in the living room?”

“In the — what? Who do you think you are? This isn’t even your house, why are you bringing these girls here?” you point an accusing finger at him yet he doesn’t back away, his annoyance for you only growing tenfold.

He’s in the wrong no matter which way you look at it yet he doesn’t realize it, the epiphany that Yoongi genuinely thinks he’s in the right for doing this to you making your skin burn in fire.

“This is literally the first time I’ve ever done this! I can’t bring her back to my place, my dad has guests over!”

“So your smartest idea is to fuck someone in my bed?”

“Oh, you’re welcome. It’s the most action your four walls have ever seen,” he spits sarcastically, eyes narrowing at you. It takes little effort for him to dig up what you came to him for in worry and it terrifies you. The facet of Yoongi who had sternly told you that it was okay to be left behind if it means getting what you deserve, resembling nothing like him at the moment.

“I can’t believe you!” you whisper as you tremble, the tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. “I told you that in confidence.”

“In confidence? It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that you’re not exactly a catch, Y/N.”

You clench your jaw so hard that it hurts, you ball your fists so tightly that it stings.

You leave your home without saying another word.

.

.

.

Namjoon’s panicked.

He came home a little later than usual because he had maximized the life out of his soccer lessons, only getting the signal to leave when the lights were turned off. He was only slightly worried at the first place because he was supposed to cook dinner for the both of you, but he placated himself by realizing that you’re not the baby that he still thinks you are — you could cook dinner for yourself if you were hungry already.

He thinks nothing of it. In fact, he just makes a quick stop at the convenience store so the both of you could indulge in a liter of ice cream without your mom urging to leave some for another night. You could think of a recipe from scratch (and it almost always works out at the end), so Namjoon walked in fully thinking he’ll get to sniff whatever concoction you have.

Except, he walks into a completely dark house, and that’s when he panics.

He can’t find your slippers by the entryway and you’re not in your room either. You’re not at the other convenience store hunched over taking your chances on scratch tickets, and you’re not out on the street either going people-watching.

The panic rises in him the more that Namjoon grasps this is the first time that this has ever happened and he doesn’t know why. He’s always made an effort to be absorbed into both your personal and academic affairs, and as far as he knows, you’re neither in a sleepover nor on a field trip somewhere.

Namjoon thinks it’s his fault someway somehow, and the guilt can’t fully dissipate from him until he sees you.

“Hey, Yoongi,” he breathlessly gasps the moment his friend answers, the latter being surprised because he thought it was you who was calling him after what happened awhile ago.

It’s his fault and he’s realized that hours too late, and the selfish part of him thinks that it’s you calling at ten in the evening begging for forgiveness.

“What’s up, man? It’s late,” he wonders out loud, thinking for a second if they were too much of the Siamese twins that you tease them to be because he can’t think of a rational reason why Namjoon would call him at this time of night.

Namjoon raggedly exhales, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, sorry about that. I’m just wondering if you’ve seen Y/N by any chance?”

Yoongi’s heart drops so loudly that Namjoon thought for second that his friend had hung up on him, his urgency being shared the moment that he asked.

“What? Y/N isn’t home?” Yoongi asks in disbelief, immediately being filled with anxiety and disbelief. Just awhile ago, the two of you were arguing outside of your room. He did hear you leave, but he had fully expected for you to be back hours ago. He’s wracked with guilt all over, the drop in his chest amplified by the pit in his stomach.

“She’s not. Practice ran late and I-I know she’s responsible so I didn’t hurry home,” Namjoon recalls, being more and more frazzled by the second. “She left her phone here, and mom isn’t here either because she’s visiting my grandparents, a-and I don’t want to call her because I know she’ll be worried, a-and-…”

Yoongi interrupts him, the tremble in his fingers only enabling him to dig his nails into his palm deeper. “I’m coming over. Let’s look for her together.”

It barely takes a minute for the both of them to come together, not even exchanging any pleasantries with each other before Yoongi steps on the gas. 

Namjoon’s filled with guilt, the type that only a sibling could carry as a burden. He thinks he was too selfish — too accustomed to pulling your own weight that it must have given you the impression that you had no other choice but to. Whatever it was that made you leave out of the blue, Namjoon thinks he could’ve done more. He should’ve came home and made you dinner as promised, for starters. He’s guilty over the fact that he’s the only close familial male figure in your life and he let this happen, as he makes Yoongi put his headlights on high-beam, scanning for anyone that looks remotely like you.

Yoongi, on the other hand, is filled with a guilt he can’t even begin to explain. It corrodes him from the inside-out in realization that he’s to blame for your sudden disappearance, the fact that Namjoon comes to him first to help find you not helping at all. If only your brother knew what he had done to you, he’s positive that he’ll be on the receiving end of a punch — what gets him more is that Yoongi wouldn’t blame him at all.

They see you in the bus stop two cities away, dressed in the same clothes you ran out with. 

Namjoon’s relieved beyond compare while Yoongi’s fuming, his hands tucked inside his jacket to prevent himself from squeezing you into an embrace; neither of you deserve it. 

There’s an underlying anger within Namjoon, one that lies behind the back of his throat as he checks you over for any injuries. The two of you walk ahead to Yoongi’s car while he himself trails behind, his heart significantly calmer than it was the past hour, yet nowhere near normal.

“Wanna tell me what you did?” your brother hums, trying to exhale the worry that’s embedded into him with each squeeze he gives around your shoulders.

“Went to the convenience store, bumped into my friends, then we took this impromptu roadtrip to go to the night market, then we all had our first actual shot of liquor and not just beer, my friend who owns the car turned out to be a lightweight, and now everyone just has to commute home,” you narrate in recollection, squeezing Namjoon back to try and ground him.

“Okay,” he answers simply, nodding. “Wanna tell me what happened before you did all those things?”

The breathless chuckle that leaves you is empty, void of any amusement at all. You smile nonetheless, unable to placate both yourself and Namjoon. “Nope.”

You arrive in silence to Yoongi’s car, the words unsaid between the three of you generating more tension than your brief disappearance itself.

Yoongi opens the front door for you, but you settle for sitting in the backseat.

[thesummerpetrichor]

𝓗𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓸𝓯 𝓰𝓵𝓪𝓼𝓼: 𝓐𝓭𝓸𝓻𝓪𝓫𝓵𝓮 𝓲𝓵𝓵𝓾𝓼𝓲𝓸𝓷

Stepdad!Javier Peña x afab!fem!reader

Summary: Your mother forces you to tag along on Javi’s trip to New York. She says you need to learn to get along. And get along you do. Aka horny, drunk, high, debauched sex with stepdad Javi. Part 2 of ‘Teasing like you do’.

Warnings: 18+ only minors DNI you will be blocked. Mentions of DEA, stepdad trope and all that comes with, dubious morals and relationship, age gap [reader is 18/19 Javi is in his mid 40s], reader wears a dress, petnames [ Bunny], mommy & daddy issues ™ , deceased parent, angst, DUBCON, alcohol consumption, drug use, cigarette smoking, inebriated sex, brat tamer!softdom!Javi, subby! brat!reader, f masturbation, rough sex, major size kink [Javi is bigger than reader, can rough house with her], degradation, dumbification, praise kink, daddy kink and dd/lg vibes, dirty talk, finger sucking, c*meating?, choking, spanking [with hands] , hair pulling [no hair type specified], dry humping, somno, messy sex, fingering, unprotected P in V [be better!!], multiple orgasms and creamp*es. Let me know if I missed anything 🫶

Word count: 9k

A/N: This Javi is honestly my fav that I’ve written. This is part 2/3, and it’s double the fun from last time. Javi is just so soft (and crazy) and there’s so much smut and some angst for you nasties. Combined the top two highest votes answers from this poll! Thanks to all who voted!! Hope you enjoy! Mwah!

🌼 Part I 🌼 Masterlist

Once I had a love and it was a gas

Soon turned out had a heart of glass

Seemed like the real thing, only to find

Mucho mistrust, love's gone behind

“New York?” You raise your brow and watch your mother fold the kitchen towels and toss them onto the counter one by one. “Yes. You can’t avoid him forever. He’s here to stay, and you’re going to like it, and him. That’s final.” Oh, you do like him—her husband, that is. In fact, you arguably get on a bit too well. You bite your lip to keep from commenting on her sour tone. She doesn’t need to know you and Javier had become quite well acquainted over the weekend—if him taking your virginity was any indication.

Even though her tone sets your teeth on edge, you spare yourself the crisis of revealing you are sleeping with her husband and instead decide to take up the opportunity she offers you on a silver platter with a curt nod and some feigned annoyance.

Your mum brings it up to her husband at dinner. He's eating and he looks up at her for a moment before shrugging and agreeing it would be a good chance to bond. Javier is even better at feigning his own indifference to the suggestion, so much so, in fact you’re afraid fooling around with you is not in fact part of his plans in New York. Its been two days since he’s fucked you and you’re always on edge. He hasn’t been around the house much because he's dealing with the fallout of the raid and it's driving you wild. 

You’ve spent the nights desperately grinding against your plush pillows but it seems like he's the only person that can actually get you off. Ever since you actually felt what it was like to cum you can't get enough and you’re resenting him for every moment he’s not between your legs. 

Safe to say you’re desperately counting on this not being a one time thing. 

After dinner you busy yourself with the clearing up, and your mother leaves to answer the phone just as Javi brings the last pot from the table to the kitchen counter. It's the first time you’re alone with him since the weekend and as he leaves he comes up behind you to lean beside your ear. He snaps the strap of your bra and kisses your shoulder. “Gonna let me fill this tight little pussy up again?” 

He shifts his hands to your waist. It's the second time he's touched you this way, and this time you can feel the cool metal of his wedding band graze your warm skin. You swallow, then look towards the livingroom to see the shadow of your mum walking around with the landline in her hand, chatting away to a neighbour. You nod your head, and after lowly chuckling Javi reaches a hand down to grab a handful of your ass. When he squeezes you have to bite your lip to keep from moaning. 

“Good, bunny.” He slaps your ass for good measure and you hear his footsteps get distant as he leaves the kitchen and walks up the stairs. 

At night you try to sleep but you’re too horny and wet. The feeling of his hands on your body drive you crazy and nothing can distract from it. The room is quiet and it's so hot you’ve got every window open. The cool breeze from outside grazes your skin and you flinch. You're too sensitive. 

You toss and turn for a while but you can’t help yourself, you groan and your hand drifts under the waistband of your panties. Your fingers slip between your folds and you’re dripping. A quiet breathy sigh escapes your lips as you spread your wetness and rub your cunt. 

Your other hand squeezes at your breast under your sleep shirt and you moan, you’re so on edge you think you might just make yourself cum. You rub yourself a little while longer, teetering on the edge but somehow unable to tip over it. Your hand is drenched and you feel your slick smear against your inner thighs. Even still you can’t seem to get there. You dip a finger into your weeping entrance and shiver. You wonder if you felt the same to Javi, your fingers surely didn’t feel like his. 

You sink back against your pillows. 

You're staring at the ceiling a good twenty minutes when you hear the front door shutting from outside. Bounding to the window you lean over its edge to see Javier getting into his car, one hand shoving his gun into his holster. He's a little shadow, a little splodge of navy blue against a background of swishing greens, and blacks and little orange lights. 

A pit in your stomach grows when the car pulls out of the driveway and into the street. It makes you sick to admit but you worry when he runs out like that in the middle of the night. You wonder where he's off too, you have always wished he was safe. Even when he wasn’t fucking you, he might have been the best thing to happen to your family in a while. 

Hell, even when you thought you hated his guts, you knew he was the only good thing to happen to your family in a while. And you weren’t an idiot. Sure, to say you and your mother got along would be gracious, but she too lost a husband when you lost a father. She spent her days alone in a home she built from the ground up with the love of her life. 

At some level, you forgave her, you loved her. When you first slept with him, you felt guilty, you felt like you were robbing her of the one good thing she had. But part of you wanted to avenge that little girl who got packed away, who had nowhere safe to go, who had no one. Javier could be your someone, at least intermittently, and while you didn’t blame her for what she did, no amount of intellectualising your suffering could make it better. 

She knew she couldn’t raise you alone so she decided not to raise you at all, and it was perhaps that that disheartened you the most. 

You notice the lights go out in the neighbours living room, you see shadows climb up the stairs. There's not much you can do besides return to bed and try to get some rest. 

— 

The trip comes around quicker than you expect. Before you know it your bags are packed and you’re boarding a plane with Javi. He is preoccupied with whatever it is he’s in New York for, so you’re spared the presumably awkward travel conversation. He lets you doze against his shoulder, and when you land he’s slinging your luggage over that same shoulder. It's a small bag but it isn’t weightless. You like how he makes it seem like it is. If only he knew about the skimpy lingerie he was lugging around. New York delights you with the warm, sunny weather. 

Once you’re actually at the hotel, you're barely there for ten minutes. “Twin beds?” the lady at the reception asks your stepfather, already expecting a yes. You can tell with the look on her face. You feel a little embarrassed that she’s even asking, but that embarrassment deepens tenfold when Javier stops her. “A double is fine” She quickly nods her head, looking nothing short of uncomfortable. Perhaps the only person more shocked is you. Your face burns and you look away. She doesn’t know you, doesn’t know what you are to each other, but just seeing you two together would even have you embarrassed. 

Either way it's enough time to get rid of your luggage before Javi insists you get some food in you. He’s so preoccupied with whatever’s going on with his job you decide not to give him too much of a hard time. You’ll save that for later. 

He’s on the phone so much. He looks upset and stressed– as much as he lets himself look, that is. Even then he takes your hand in his when you cross the street, pulls you to his side when you’re in a crowd. He leads you into a coffee shop and finally gets off his mobile phone. 

By the time you’re sitting down with your coffee– well his coffee and your ice tea, you’re dying for him to pay attention to you. You twirl the straw between your lips and look up at him. He’s preoccupied, you can tell. 

When he's done restlessly tapping his fingers against the table he opens up the file he’s been lugging around all day, and a pen from his pocket. You think you spend ten whole minutes in silence, watching him annotate the swarm of papers inside. 

New york is as “hustle bustle” as you remember, the glass facade buildings are bouncing rays of sunshine off one another, the sky is that perfect shade of powder blue. There are so many people bumbling outside, all like little insects fleeting about. You observe them from the window, they don't pay attention to you, or anyone for that matter– they’re looking ahead. 

The last time you had been here was with your father– you can see the hotel you stayed at from where you’re sitting. You have to crane your neck a bit though– Javier is disrupting the view. 

He doesn't notice when you get up from your seat and saunter towards the cafe counter. He didn’t notice you eyeing the red lollipops from your table the entire afternoon so you’re not surprised. But when you sit back down, lollipop in hand, and drag your foot up his calf under the table? Now that catches his attention. 

He watches you wrap your lips around it, watches you pucker them up and lick the underside of the sweet treat. Your lips part and you take it in your mouth, rolling the stick between your fingers with a knowing smile plastered across your face. It shines all glossy when you release it with a pop, and you run it along your bottom lip as Javi takes a strained sip from his cup of coffee. 

He tries to feign annoyance but a smile breaks through and he scoffs lightheartedly at your antics. The whole atmosphere is quite lighthearted. You felt warm and happy on the inside. You're glad you came. 

The rest of lunch passes in relative silence, and a comfortable silence. You finish your meal, and actually don’t mind the quiet time with Javi as he works on preparing for his meeting later in the evening. He lets you play footsie with him under the table, lets you play with his fingers as they rest idly against the tablecloth. 

On the way out he gets you another lollipop on request, and watches keenly as you unwrap it and pop it between your lips. The pink colouring stains your tongue when you release it and his eyes bloom with lust as he notices. They linger on your lips as they shine in the sun and the two of you step out of the cafe. 

He reaches forward, swipes his thumb on the corner of your mouth and pulls you against him. His eyes are glossy when he strokes your head gently. When he leans down his lips brush your forehead and his voice is lower than usual. 

“Messy little girl.” 

You skip ahead of him and into the street, then wait a few seconds for him to catch up. He’s already on the phone again and he's arguing with someone, he tosses you a few coins and gestures to the little shop beside you. Somehow you think you know what he's asking, so you hop in and snag him a pack of cigs. When you run back out he's still arguing, but he watches you run towards him and he smiles rather proudly as he takes the pack from your hands and lights one up. 

You feel a little giddy and you cover it up with a smirk, but he pulls you into his side and pats your head affectionately and you can't help the heat that creeps onto your cheeks. 

— 

“Don't wait up for me.” 

He’d said as he left the hotel room. And how exactly was he planning to make good on his promise of fucking you dumb with that instruction? True, you were beyond tired from the long travel day, but even at thirty past midnight you were more than determined to stay up to welcome Javier after his important work meeting. 

“What the hell is taking him so long, anyway?” you wonder out loud, hanging upside down off the plush couch set beside the windows in your hotel room. With an outstretched hand you grope for the pills you’d set on the coffee table, and pop another in your mouth. 

You know it's not a good idea, he’ll be upset, and angry, and he’ll give you such a hard time for it. You giggle, remembering the “hard time” he gave you last time he found out you were up to no good. 

“Bunny?” His voice is slurred just a little, thick and hoarse. You jump upright on the sofa and watch with dizzy eyes as he clicks the hotel room door shut and chucks the keycard onto the counter beside it. He’s craning his neck a little to catch sight of you but from where you're seated you can barely see each other. 

The sound of his leather boots clacking against the marble prompts you to slip out of your trance and toss the bottle of pills you’d had on the coffee table haphazardly under it and on the floor. Retrospectively, what you aimed to achieve doing that is unclear, but it was an effort nonetheless. The lit joint stays between your fingers, however, and before you can even divert your attention to it and decide what you’re going to do with it, Javi is leaning in the entryway and raising his brows at you.

You watch him rest his shoulder in the archway for a moment and kick off his boots. “Told ya to get to sleep..” he looks tired, and a little bit irritated, though there's nothing unusual about that. “I thought you wanted to fuck me?” you kick your legs up on the couch and he turns his head in your direction. The look he shoots you makes you feel just a little guilty for bothering him. Your own tone and cheeky remarks surprise you. “What did you say? You were gonna “fill this tight little pussy up again?””

What you say seems to catch his attention. So does the lit joint you’re holding up. 

“Have you been drinking?” he stalks towards you and picks up the pills you assumed you'd stealthily chucked under the table. His shoulders drop and he puts a hand on his hip. “No.” you sound a lot more guilty than you’d like.  

“What the fuck is this?” he's struggling to remain composed as he gestures to the mess you made– between the sofa and the coffee table. His jaw ticks and he reaches for the joint and yanks it from your grip. He's been drinking, you can smell the whiskey off his leather jacket, it’s strong enough for you to know the meeting likely ended several hours prior.  “I told ya last time-”

He turns to put away the bottle and you attempt to stand up and follow him. His hand on your chest stops you however, and pushes you back onto the sofa till your ass is landing on it with a thud. God, he's such a hypocrite. “You're the one walking in drunk” 

You watch him shove the pill bottle in his duffle bag, then turn back toward you and take a drag from your joint. “Don't give me that attitude, little girl.” His actions only piss you off further. And here you thought this would be a fun little trip. 

“Or what? Looks like you aren’t gonna fuck me anyway.” he shrugs of his jacket with the joint placed deftly between his lips. He’s so hot it’s difficult to maintain your annoyance– especially considering he can tell you're far from sober– with your slurred speech, too loud voice and whining. “Had a few drinks and now you're playing good cop?” 

He probably also knows you're trying to get on his nerves. Which is why he ignores your incessant cribbing and plops some paperwork on the coffee table, taking a seat beside you on the couch and grabbing your face between his fingers. The cool metal of the wedding band presses gently against your skin, a constant reminder of its presence. You can smell the whiskey and cigarettes off his skin. “High off your fuckin ass.” 

He takes another drag and runs a hand over his face, his own back hitting the couch as he slumps against it. You reach for the joint but he smacks your hand away. “No bunny, I think that’s enough.” 

Your groaning makes him roll his eyes and you begin to get increasingly frustrated. “I don’t understand what your deal is. Are you always on the clock or something?” you grab his wrist and haul yourself onto his lap. Now straddling him you feel a jolt of arousal soar across your spine. 

“Cant keep doin this shit” he tries to wrangle the joint out of your grip with a hand on your wrist, and after struggling with you for a second he frustratedly grabs you by the waist and pulls you closer till your forehead is pressed against his. He sounds tired of reprimanding you.  “Let go.” 

You know you sound pathetic but you whine and let go. You feel his hard length swell against your now damp panties. Javi takes the joint back and takes a drag, he shifts under you and you bounce on his lap. The feel of his denim against your clit has you biting your lip in an attempt to retain your composure.

“That desperate are you?” Javier laughs and toys with the straps on your dress. “Just fuck me.. Please.” you do sound desperate. Javi rolls his eyes, and his lack of attention directed towards you irks you to no end. 

“Shut that whore mouth and maybe I'll think about it.” he smacks your ass and kisses your cheek to make up for it. “be good.” a beat of silence passes, and you fiddle with the buttons of his shirt, watch him smoke the joint till his eyes are cloudy and fluttering shut. You think you’re a bit more high than before thanks to the second hand smoke. 

You want to kiss him, want to call him that name that's been bubbling in your throat since that night in the woods. You watch Javi take another drag, a final drag, and put out the joint in the ashtray. 

You can't help yourself, you close your eyes and lean in, pressing your lips to his in a chaste kiss and melting into his arms. You think it might do you some good to get back on his good side. “Hi, daddy.” If you were sober you’d be horrified, but you have more than enough liquid courage in you to test the waters. There’s a short but pregnant pause, and Javier's surprised expression makes your heart quicken. 

“Hi, bunny.” Javi raises his brows, laughs and cups your cheek. The tensions long left his shoulders. Handsome, he’s so handsome. He’s always been. His eyes are droopier than they usually are. “Daddy, need you..” It comes out as a whisper, a whine and a plea all at the same time. “Need you to fuck me.” 

“Jesus christ, bunny. Tryna kill me?” His hand smooths up and down your thigh, his other drawing patterns on your waist and caging you against him. He kisses you lightly, and you giggle against his lips, he does it again, and again, and again, then tilts your jaw up to put his mouth on your neck. You gasp, your hands reach to tangle in his soft, wavy hair, and you pull him impossibly closer. Your tugging makes him groan, and his hand slips under your top to undo the clasp of your bra. 

You call out his name as he discards your lingerie, dizzy and dripping for him, unable to get enough of his lips on your skin. Slinging your other leg over his waist you lay yourself sideways in his lap. The heat that radiates off his skin prompts you to curl up even closer to him, and you try your best to undo the top buttons of his shirt. 

You get distracted when his hand disappears between your thighs and under your dress. He rubs your wet pussy through the fabric of your panties and you moan into his mouth. You’re getting more impatient by the second, and he's being far too slow and gentle for your liking. 

Your hand finds his wrist under your skirt and you reluctantly pry his hand away. Before he can look up you’re climbing onto his lap and grinding your clothed cunt against him in a swift, slow roll of your hips. Surprised, his hands grab your waist and he leans back on the chair. Javier tries to flip you onto your back again but you slot your fingers against his and roll your hips. He lifts his own to meet your core and you shiver.“Impatient little thing. Just wanna take what you want, don’t you?” 

“Ohh daddy…’s too hot.” Javi’s voice strains as he curses under his breath and slides your dress off your upper body till the fabric is pooling at your waist. As you rock against him he tugs and bunches it up, controlling your moments. “Soakin my fuckin’ jeans, Bun..” He lifts the fabric up to watch you grind on his bulge.  

His words make you groan, and you feel the desire pool even deeper in your belly. With his hands managing your movements you let your own grab onto his shoulders– stabilising yourself. “Goddamn, pretty as a picture.” Thank god you thought to maintain your balance, because you might have just fallen off Javier’s lap when his mouth found your chest, sucking your nipple into his mouth and prompting a loud but lazy moan to slip past your lips. 

He nips at your skin, kissing his way back up your neck and grinding into your clothed crotch. “Like using daddy like you use your pillows, baby?” The coil in your belly only tightens and your words slur. “‘S better….” You’re drunk and dizzy, your ears burn but you can't stop. It feels so good. 

“Mhm, bet it is, baby bunny, them pillows don’t make you cum, do they?” you shake your head “no”, and Javi responds with a chuckle. He pulls you closer and you drop your head against his shoulder. “That’s right, just daddy, ain’t it?”.  His lips find your neck again and he mumbles hushed praises against your skin. His voice is soft but strained, and you feel him throb against you. 

You move faster against him, chasing that release that's so close, your thighs parting even more across him. You’re practically bouncing in his lap, the rub of his jeans against your clit sending you into a frenzy. Javi’s hands palm your breasts and it feels like your whole body is on fire. “That's it, good girl.” 

Your hips stutter and with a final rise of Javier’s hips. You don't even register it happening, something inside you just snaps. He holds you against him, watches the way your eyes roll right to the back of your head as you reach your high. You can hear him groan but your ears are mostly ringing, pussy fluttering around nothing. You’re sure your panties are soaked at this point. The moan that erupts from your throat is nothing short of pornographic. 

You feel the heat seep onto his jeans, and you twitch a final few times from the aftershocks as you move yourself against him, now slightly slower. He twists your nipple between his fingers, then slaps your ass so hard you go reeling forward into his chest. Surely, when your hips lift off his, a dark, wet spot has formed on his grey denim. The both of you look down at his lap, at the lewd string of slick that connects your panty covered core to his jeans. 

“Already, bunny?!” He’s half surprised, half proud. A sort of excited smirk tugs at his lips and snaps the band of your panties against your ass. In reaction you bury your face further in his neck, leaving desperate, sloppy, open mouth kisses there. “Still all achy, aren’t ya?” 

Javier groans and slides his fingers between your thighs, his other hand keeping a vice grip on your hip. “So fuckin wet, got these panties all messy huh?” You're already throbbing again, and your nipples pebble impossibly harder thanks to his touch. It doesn't help that you feel all conscious and small– your bare chest pressing against Javi’s still clothed body. 

You mewl and tug at his shirt and he chuckles, a smug smile plastered on his face. “Behave..” you pout and groan impatiently. “Silly thing.” He grabs your hands and plants them on his chest, his own moving to slide your dress over your head and discard it on the ground beside you. 

You toy with the buttons on his shirt yet again and he gives you a warning look in response, ending your misery and undoing them himself. You can’t help but continue to grind against him with little rolls of your hips, your soaked panties sticking to your cunt and making the friction even more pleasing. Javi smacks your ass in warning. “Patience, little slut.” 

You can't even register what's happening, he's throwing you onto the bed and yanking your panties down your legs. You push yourself up on your elbows to get a good look at Javi climbing on top of you. 

Your little show doesn’t last long, because in a second he's flipping you onto your stomach and smacking your ass till you're whimpering for him. Prompting you on all fours he grabs your hips in his massive hands, getting behind you on his knees. 

His thumb swipes the cut of your pussy, and he groans as he feels and spreads your wetness along your cunt. “Always so fuckin wet, dumb little thing.” his index and middle dip into your warm, waiting hole, and the stretch of his thick fingers have your knees giving out under you. 

Javier laughs, but snakes a hand around your middle to hold you up for him. You feel his cock press up against your ass– hot and needy. You wiggle your hips and push back against him, but that only earns you a spank and a mumbled “brat”. 

Agonisingly slow for your liking he runs his cock up the length of your pussy, smearing the precum at the head and further spreading your wetness. “Please…” he lines himself up with your entrance and pushes in in a single, deep thrust. 

You pity the people in the neighbouring rooms upon hearing the downright pornographic moan that leaves your mouth. The feeling of his thick cock stretching you open brings that heaviness to your hips, a buzzing that spreads all across your body and stings you where Javi’s got his hands. 

Those hands smooth along your back travel up to your head to catch a hold on your hair. A strong sense of dizziness overcomes you thanks to his fingertips grazing your scalp, and that feeling only intensifies tenfold when he tugs at your hair and forces your gaze directly ahead of you. He can tell you’ve already lost yourself, can sense the way you've gone dumb with the simple gesture, how you like being used like a little doll. 

“Look at that, gone dumb already?” each thrust of his hits deeper thanks to the way he's tugging you towards him. His words make you shiver and gush around his cock. “Gonna fuck this tight little pussy like ya need.” 

His hand that's resting on your hip lands a spank to your ass and you yelp.  “Fuck bunny, bet it feels nice to have somthing filling this pretty little snatch again huh?” you nod, then mewl at the drag of his cock against your wet walls. 

“This pussy’s fuckin made for me.” he groans as he thrusts inside you–voice strained and hoarse. “Gonna mould ya into my perfect little cockslut.Teach ya how to really take it.” you nod your head, relishing in the pull and tug on your scalp thanks to his relentless grip on your hair. “Gonna fill you up till you're dripping with my cum.” 

He chuckles at your enthusiasm. “Yeah, you want that?” you feel him lean down and kiss along your spine. When he speaks you feel his lips murmur against your skin. “Want daddy to teach ya how to be his perfect little sex bunny?” 

“That's right, bet ya do– insatiable little thing, aren't ya?” he lets go of your hair and his hand drifts to your neck. Your skin is on fire. 

“Daddy” 

“I know baby Bun.”  He guides you up with a hand around your neck, your face turning to bury in the crook of his neck. Your eyes barely open to watch his face contort in pleasure. The expanse of his chest welcomes you, and you rest your head back against his shoulder, your nose brushing the nape of his neck. His thrusts don't cease and the new angle has you groaning into his skin. 

He notices your incessant lip biting, the way you reach to slot your lips against his. He obliges, sliding his tongue into your mouth, your own lips being forced to part from his when he thrusts deep inside you and you gasp. 

“Need something to keep that mouth busy, dontcha’ lil darlin’?” His index and middle finger swipe against your bottom lip. Pushing his digits past your lips he watches as you gently suck, groaning when you run your tongue against them. “That’s it. Let daddy take control.” 

Your own arms reach behind you to wind around his neck, back arching thanks to the pleasure. You moan around his digits, jaw going slack when you feel his fingers on your clit. Your pussy bares down on his cock as he rubs you in soft circles. He pulls his fingers from your mouth and angles your face to watch his other hand move between your thighs. 

The sight is so erotic you think it might just make you cum. “Yeah.. like that don’t you? Dirty girl.” His breath is warm against your skin. All his words are muffled against your hairline. “Like seeing what daddy does to you?” 

He kisses your cheek and his other hand shifts a pillow below your hips to push you back onto. He chuckles when you flop onto the bed with a yelp. When you land back on the bed and he thrusts inside you the new angle makes you squirm, you don’t think you could even describe the feeling of being so full. He pushes you down with both hands on your hips and fucks you into the matress. 

You try to lift your head to look behind you but his hands travel to grab a hold of your hair. “Gonna let me use ya?” an incoherent ‘yes’ leaves your mouth in the form of a scream. “Hmm baby Bun?” you reply yet again, but your capacity to respond is greatly diminished as his cock brushes that sweet spot inside you. 

Over and over, you feel your pussy flutter around him and you can’t help it when your mouth hangs open. “Who's daddy's little sex doll?” frantically nodding, you refuse to rely on your ability to reply coherently with words. Daddy doesn’t seem to mind, he doesn’t need you to respond. “You are, aren't you? my little sex bunny.” 

His palm comes down on your ass and you reel forward, only for him to tug you back with his hold on your hair. “Such a pretty little doll for daddy.” He tugs you into him with every thrust and you whimper, hands gripping the sheets and legs giving out till you're only held up by the pillow. “My girl.” 

He's so deep inside you you’re not even sure you can understand the new sensations. It's like he can read your mind. “Feel daddy, baby bunny?” he tugs on your hair once again, his other hand reaching down to plant firmly on your lower belly. “Yeah? Feel daddy in here?” 

He doesn't wait for you to nod, just uses his grip on your hair to do it for you. It's not like you could really think straight before, but now that Javi was tossing you around like an inanimate object, moulding you for himself, using you how he wanted, moving for you. 

His hand drops from your tummy to brace itself beside your head. In a second, he's lowering himself completely onto you, your entire body pressed against the pillows and fluffy duvet, and his entire front pressed to your back. With every thrust inside you you feel every single detail of his body as it rests against yours. 

The way he's resting on his forearms has him caging you against the bed, in a cocoon of your own. Your body is confined between his arms, your own forearms holding you up under him. You feel so small under him, his movements hitting you with extreme intensity. You fist the sheets in your fingers and groan. 

“Who makes this tight, slutty little pussy cum?” his lips brush against your cheek with every word that escapes them. Everything feels so warm, and vulnerable. You’re just a doll for his pleasure. You can barely recognise your own voice anymore– so whiny and desperate.

“You do.” 

“And who am I?” he squishes your face between his fingers. “Daddy!” you surge forward a little with the force of his thrust. You attempt to press your forehead against his but he’s determined on having a full view of your face as you slowly come apart on his cock. “Who makes you feel so goddamn good you can’t even think straight?” 

Javier takes delight in your incoherent, trembling answers. “Daddy does”. He eggs you on, seemingly unable to get enough of the way you scramble to respond to him while being unable to control your sounds of pleasure. “Whose cock got ya going all dumb?” 

“Daddy’s” he coos and laughs against your skin, his death grip on your cheeks not ceasing. “That’s fuckin right, aint it.” He takes your chin in his hand and turns your face away from his, then buries his face in your neck and sucks at your skin. Your arms give out under you and you’re now fully pressed against the bed. You hear it creak indecently with every one of your movements. 

“Such a good bunny.” Javier’s cheek is flush with yours, and you’re sure he can feel just how hot they are against his cool skin. A swarm of butterflies flutters in your tummy and you whine, so incredibly close to the release you’ve been desperate for all evening. 

“Need daddy to make you cum?” both of his arms wind around your body, wedging themselves between yourself and the mattress. “Yes please, please daddy, really wanna.” you press your forehead against the pillow but he tilts it up. 

“Oh baby bunny..” you feel him throb inside you and his thrusts become sloppier. You can tell he’s nearing his end. “Good fucking girl..” the heat radiating off his body has sweat dripping down your back. You’re so close to cumming you push your hips back against him– whatever little you can, still mostly smothered by his towering frame. “Sound so sweet askin daddy like that. Usin’ your manners.” 

“Please daddy, make me cum..” with a sharp, deep thrust his cock nudges that spot inside you just right. The coil in your belly snaps and your whole body goes limp. “Wanna see that pretty little face.” Javi keeps your face tilted towards his so he can capture your lips in a messy kiss as you come undone around his cock– unable to reciprocate with your eyes rolling back into your head and your mouth parting in a strained, languid moan. “That's it, look at daddy’s good girl.” 

Seeing your face seems to set his own release off, and you feel Javi rut into your fluttering, wet heat in a few final, deep thrusts before his cock is pulsing against your walls and painting them in hot ropes of his spend. You vaguely hear him groan, and he nips your bottom lip. 

Javier takes a moment to catch his breath, slumping on top of you briefly before rolling onto his side. His touch, and his weight over your body is already something you miss, and you reach for him– arm reaching out and hand groping for purchase on his skin. He indulges you and pulls you on top of him, lets you catch your own breath with your chest pressed against his. You feel his spend mess your inner thighs. You murmur the word “pillow” and hope he gets the message to shift it before getting it dirty. Thankfully he does. 

By the time he’s pulling said pillow from under your hips and rolling you onto your side you’re half asleep. He collapses beside you and pulls you into his chest. You wrap your arms around his torso and rest your head against him. He's like a wall between you and the rest of the room. 

With your eyes closed and mind stuck between sleep and wakefulness you snuggle into him, giving yourself to dreamland. You hear him whisper before you lose all consciousness 

“Good night, baby bunny.” 

— 

You don't know how long it's been since you fell asleep. Javier’s arms, that have been caging you against him, move delicately to loosen around your frame. With fluttering eyelids you gain an ounce of consciousness to register the movement of your leg over Javi’s waist. 

It's all warm and fuzzy, and you murmur his name as a question before nuzzling into his neck. You can't tell what's happening, just hear him hush your whines when you feel his cock slide against your dripping seam. You wiggle your hips, already desperate for him. His tip bumps your clit and you shiver. 

You’re tired, you’re sleepy, hell you’re barely conscious. You drift between sleep and wakefulness, your skin setting ablaze as he lines himself up with your warm centre and slowly buries himself to the hilt. 

His lips slot against yours and his tongue slips into your mouth. You struggled to kiss him back as his cock slides in and out of your aching pussy. He squeezes your breast in his palm and you moan into his mouth. “S’okay, just keep makin’ them pretty sounds for me..” You can't help but sleepily moan and mewl. “all those pretty sounds for daddy? Aren't they?”

The both of you know he’s right. Javier’s lips come back to meet yours and he swallows your whimpers, you feel yourself getting closer and your pussy clenches down on his cock. His body's heat isn’t helping. The sheets get too warm and you feebly try and kick them off. 

Javi pulls them off you and the cool air from the AC hits your bar upper body. Sighing, you return your arms around his neck and push your hips towards his. “I know, baby Bun..” he holds you against him. “I know..” Your body hasn’t cooled down and you feel your chest burn with the heat. Your nipples pebble under the cool air and you bring his hand to your chest to ease the tension. The sensations make you impossibly more desperate and you search for his lips once again. 

He obliges and brings his face down to yours, his thrusts slow but deep and firm. Your breath becomes quicker and you feel the tension about to snap. Your lips go slack against his and he licks into your mouth as you moan softly and your walls pulse around his cock. You can barely hear him groan and you’re halfway back asleep already.

He thrusts inside your hot, throbbing heat a few more times before stilling inside you and filling you up. The feeling of his cock pulsing against your walls makes you shiver. He pulls out and you vaguely gauge the mess between your legs– far worse than before.  You swing your leg higher over his waist and he pulls you closer, you’re almost immediately back asleep. He tucks your head into the crook of his neck and dozes off. 

— 

The sun doesn't stand a chance disturbing you and peeking through the thick, blackout curtains– you’re awoken by the comforting sound of the kettle boiling over in its stead. Wakefulness evades you, but your eyes flutter open to catch Javier’s silhouette standing at the counter beside the tv, taking the kettle off its stand and making himself some tea. A soft rustling fills the room as you turn in the fluffy, plush sheets, only now realising you’re clothed in a fresh pair of panties and Javier’s old Lakers’ shirt– the one he wears around the house. 

You feel fresh, and you smell great– like the somebody bobbing his teabag in his cup had taken the opportunity to give you a nice sponge bath while you were still sleeping. You call that someone’s name– voice still thick with sleep. When you actually try to sit up you’re suddenly aware of how sore the previous night's escapades have actually left you. 

Javi turns in your direction, and his bedhead and overall morning grogginess doesn't go over your head. You envy your mother– she wakes up to this every single morning and still manages to be a bitch. What you wouldn’t give… 

“Got a few more hours till we leave.” He sits down in the armchair next to the windows and places his cup on the table. You’re surprised by how nonchalant he always seems to be about this whole situation. His wedding band catches the light of the sun and twinkles. You feel a pit in your stomach. 

He doesn’t pay you any mind as you roll out of bed, busy with his files from his meeting from the previous day. It takes you a minute to get to him, and you push his thighs apart and sit on the ground between his legs. You’re not exactly sure what you’re doing there, but you assume it’ll help you wake up. You want to be next to him, that's all you know. 

You rest your cheek on his thigh as he reads, and you can't help that your mind wanders to the events of the previous night. A tingle runs down your spine, and your eyes fall to his lap. You’ve never given anyone head before, and suddenly the thought of Javier grabbing your face and fucking into your mouth with his thick cock seems more appealing than ever. 

You shift on the ground beneath him, and nuzzle his thigh. His hand comes down to stroke your head and your eyes flutter shut. He’s still reading when you begin to trace patterns on his thigh with your fingertips. 

“Want something, bunny?” Peering over the files he glances down at you, still stroking your head gently. You don’t reply, not even sure what or how you can ask for what you want him to teach you. Instead you shift on your knees and bend down to kiss along his stomach. 

“Asked ya something, baby..” he doesn’t stop you so you continue, toying with the waistband of his shorts between your fingers. “Gonna speak up before we gotta go home?” The mention of ‘home’ makes you cringe. Seemingly realising what exactly you’re asking for as you trail kisses along his inner thighs, Javi grabs a hold of your face and pulls you up till your resting your chin back against his stomach. “C’mon now, get up. Gotta save that energy– your momma’s got that barbeque tonight we gotta go to. Barely slept five hours.” You plant your face in his stomach and groan. You’re not exactly elated to go back home, and you know he knows that. 

“Thanks for reminding me.” 

Way to kill the mood. 

“It ain’t that bad, ya know.” he sighs quite heavily, and you hear him flip another page in the document he's holding. “I know you wanna go make a life far away, and your mother, she’s not the nicest to ya..” He puts down the papers as he speaks, and his hand twists around your neck. You know what he’s getting at– what he was trying to get at last night. 

The comment irks you, and you raise your head from his stomach and sit higher on your knees. “I am not having this conversation with you.” The hand that’s around your neck pulls you up till you're on your knees completely, and you place both hands on his thighs to keep your balance. “Can’t keep runnin’ away from every problem you have.” He tilts your head up as he speaks with a hold on your hair. 

“For the record you don't know anything about me or my mother.” You shake off his hold and catch his wrist in your grasp, firmly planted on his thigh. “I know you think you’ve got us all pinned down, but lest you need reminding– you’ve been in our lives all of what? Twelve months?” He doesn’t try to remove his hand from your grip, and you feel a little bad about how you’re lashing out at him. 

“Bun..” Especially when he talks to you this way, all patient and sweet. “Can’t keep doin’ this..” his other hand reaches for your face but you grab it too. “Not now at least.” you know what’s coming next. “And ya can’t keep gettin so close to trouble. Can't keep runnin that mouth on everyone. Actin’ out.” 

The comment makes you roll your eyes, makes them burn unpleasantly. It doesn’t register whether he's right or not, you don't care. You're not interested. “I get it–  you’re a big hot shot detective and all, and you really like all this perfect picket fence family stuff. But I don’t need you to like be my dad or whatever it is you were hoping to be.” You pause and look between the both of you. “If that wasn’t abundantly clear already…” 

Even you flinch at the comment, but Javier doesn’t budge. His jaw ticks and your heart aches in regret. “That's not what I meant, Bun.” His voice is calm, and gentle, and it makes your eyes sting even more. He takes your silence as an opportunity to continue. “And it’s gonna come all crashin down and then what? Bein so reckless?” 

“You're not fixing anything, okay?” Your grip on his wrists tightens a little, and you harshly let go. “Will you just stop? Just lay off. I know what I'm doing.” You cringe at the sound of your own voice, at how juvenile and childish you’re being despite his kindness. You don't want to deal with whatever he’s trying to bring up. “Just stay out of it.” 

“I know ya are..” you get off your knees, hands still planted on your thighs in an attempt to hoist yourself up to your feet. You try to stand but he pulls you into his lap and you fall forward into his chest with a yelp. His arms tighten around you and you rest your head on his shoulder with your face turned away from him. He rubs your back gently and seems to decide to put a pin in the conversation.  “Bunny baby.” He can probably feel your heart thud against him. 

One of his hands sneaks up your, or rather his, shirt, and he squeezes the flesh of your thigh. “Done gettin all upset with me?” turning his head he places a few kisses against your neck– feather light, and chuckles when you whine and turn your own head to catch his lips with yours. “This what you wanted?” 

“Stubborn brat.” with both hands on your waist he pulls you down against him, your panty clad core meeting his hardness and sending a shiver down your spine. His words make you shiver and you grind down against him. His hand sneaks up and his fingers wrap around your throat– forcing your watery eyes to his. “Was gonna teach ya how to suck some cock, but you’re too much of a brat huh?” 

As he speaks, he reaches between the two of you, freeing his throbbing cock from his shorts and teasing your slit with his tip. Your hips rise and squirm and the grip he has on your throat makes you dizzy. “Need to get fucked silly again? Need me to shut ya up?” 

You can’t respond, just continue to mewl and chase the pleasure of his cock rubbing up against your dripping folds. He teases your tight hole– his head just barely pushing in only to retreat to your clit and leave you clenching around nothing. “Don't worry bunny, gonna teach ya how to shut that mouth right up.”

Your mouth waters at the thought. You bite your lip. You find a steady and sturdy grip on his shoulders and whisper a plea for him to “please daddy– let me” he cuts you off with a spank and sinks the head of his cock in your warm, wet, cunt. “Not today, not when ya givin’ me that attitude”  

“Please daddy-” he cuts you off with another spank, gripping your hips and letting you sink fully onto his cock. “Not another word from that mouth.” his fingers squish your face and he brings you to meet his eyes. “Gonna take what I give ya.” 

He thrusts up into your waiting cunt, holds you in place on his lap and uses you like a doll. “Lucky to be gettin’ my cock after bein’ such a fuckin’ brat” you mewl at the harshness of his words but its all to difficult to concentrate on when you can feel the delicious stretch of his thick cock splitting you open. No time to adjust before his hips are meeting yours with impressive speed. 

The obscene squelching of your wetness and the sound of slapping skin fills the room and sends your eyes rolling back into your head. “Never fuckin listen, do ya?”You call out his name and he grunts, his hand releasing its grip on your face to palm your tit through your t-shirt. His thumb brushes your hard nipple and you can’t help but moan. “Think ya got everything figured out.” 

“Like being a bad girl?” You hate how close you already are, the drag of his cock against your quivering walls has you out of breath despite the fact that you’re not doing any of the work here. “Can feel how bad you wanna cum.” Javi feels you tighten around him and he groans, squeezing the flesh of your thighs and bringing your face down to his for a kiss. 

He lets you lick into his mouth in a silent apology for your tone earlier, doesn’t make you chase his lips and offers them to you with grace. His steady thrusting makes it difficult for you to keep your lips on his but he doesn’t tease you– just continues to fuck into your wet heat till you breath hitches and your reeling forward onto his chest. 

Your hips stutter and your pussy flutters around his cock. Javi groans a string of low curses at the feeling of your cunt milking him. You go dumb and dizzy for a few seconds, your whole body on fire as you ride out your high– prolonged by the feeling of his cock throbbing inside you. A ragged moan escapes your lips as you feel him paint your insides with his hot spend, the aftershocks seizing your body as the two of you simultaneously come down from your high. 

Your chests rise and fall against one another, and Javi moves your legs across his lap so your thighs can catch some respite from the strain of bouncing on his cock. You can’t help but wince when you feel his spend drip onto your thighs. He reaches between your legs and swipes the cut of your pussy, then brings his fingers to your lips and you open them– sucking on his digits gently. Your eyes flutter closed and he pulls his digits from your mouth. He places a kiss on the tip of your nose and you rest your head back against his shoulder. 

There's a few more beats of silence. There's a tension, but not enough for you to peel yourself away from his hold. In fact he's the one to shift under you, you take his place on the armchair and watch as he makes his way towards the bathroom. You glance towards the coffee table and spot the contents of the file. The title reads “Employment Contract: Attache for The United States Federal Drug Enforcement Agency in Colombia.” 

Javier stops in front of the door, he peels his shirt off, and doesn’t turn your way as he speaks. 

“Never mean ya’ any harm, baby Bun.. Just lookin’ out for ya’.” 

— 

Lost inside

Adorable illusion and I cannot hide

I'm the one you're using, please don't push me aside

We coulda made it cruising, yeah

La, da, da, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la

La, da, da, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la

La, da, da, la, la, la, la, la, la, la

Yeah, riding high on love's true bluish light

Thank you so much for reading!! I really hope you enjoyed!! Remember, again very morally dubious and borderline unhealthy relationship here. We are dealing with it in the realm of fiction! Thank you to everyone who comments and engages with my work you keep me writing!! Please let me know what you think!! 💗

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐕𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 [Snippet] 🔞

Jungkook just loves to show you off- because while everyone on his planet might get to look at you, he gets to touch and love you in private.

Tags/Warnings: Alien!Jungkook, Bunny Hybrid!Reader, Extremely flirty Jungkook, suggestive, Major Fluff!, Romance, Established Relationship, JK has tentacles oops, smut

Length: It was supposed to be a drabble but I ended up writing ~2.5k words oops

There is no taglist for this fic

A/N: Boo here you go hybrid alien tentacle porn yay 🥳

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

"There you are!" Jungkook sighs in relief, finding you in an isle for fresh produce, staring wide eyed at the round plastic containers filled with cubed fruits. "You want those?" He asks, pointing at one with pinkish and pale yellow cubes. You nod.

"Sweet?" You ask, unsure, and he shrugs, pulling the item down to inspect it, before he nods.

"Yeah, those are sweet- but I gotta…" He mumbles the last part, reading the label a bit further while you begin to wander off again- though this time you're pulled back by his hand reaching out during his task of finding out more about the fruits he's about to buy, to hold onto the hood of your light cotton jacket to keep you close this time and not lose you again in the grocery store. "..safe for human consumption. Hm, there's nothing written about hybrids though.." He mumbles to himself before he pulls out his phone to search online if you can eat those fruits native to his home planet, hand now leaving your hood- one of his extra appendages sneaking out from beneath his shirt to hold onto the belt loops of your shorts to keep you close.

Basilisks- that's what they're called here, which confused you for a good while, until you learned that they actually didn't ever have a true name, but that it was simply an earth-term his kind had adopted to use for them, because it sounded like a similar word which means 'Blood-snake' in his native language. You remember how terrified you were of his uniquely inky-purple colored tentacles everyone of his kind has- mostly though because you met them when he'd used them to defend you both, the images still very vivid in your mind. But these days, you've come to love them as just another piece of him- even though you remember Yoongi, a good friend of his and your doctor currently, explaining to you that they do have their own minds.

'It's actually quite surprising they chose you.' He'd told you. 'I've never seen them so interested in their host's mate.'

Mate. It's still odd to think of yourself as that, though it makes sense with how he cares for and about you.

Jungkook is, nowadays, a bit more careful now with your food for example. He'd hate for you to have another situation like a month prior when you had eaten Nacuri- a vegetable he himself actually likes a lot, but that is apparently not very good for hybrids such as yourself, having caused you some major stomach cramps that pained him to simply watch- and ever since then, he's checking everything twice just to make sure. "-but can be eaten as a snack in small quantities." He reads out loud. "Alright, so only the small box then!" He chirps, putting the big container back to exchange it for a smaller one.

The moment his hands are free again, his inky-purple appendage disappears underneath the back of his shirt again, hiding away as to not get in the way, while he holds your hand as he walks through the different isles at the store.

He notices you yawning a lot more now as you stand on the metal parts of the shopping cart while his chest is warm against your back, and he's learned that's not always just a sign for tiredness in humans and hybrids. "We'll be home soon. I didn't think the line for checkout would be this long.." He tells you, hand running over your hybrid ears, while you suppress another yawn, tears stinging in the corners of your eyes from it. Oxygen levels inside buildings like these are fine for him and his kind- but humans and hybrids like you need a lot more than him to thrive properly. It's why he's got a special air filtering system installed in his home to accommodate for that- to make your life with him as comfortable as he possibly can.

It's the least he can do to show gratefulness for what you've done for him in the past, after all. And also, what kind of partner would he be if he didn't provide the absolute best for you?

He doesn't like how your ears droop after a few moments more- so he searches in your shoulder bag for the familiar pale pink plastic inhaler, setting it up with a few clicks for the proper dosage. "Here. It's almost our turn." He reassures again, offering the inhaler to you which you take with a nod. It'll help you with a bit of extra oxygen until you're out in the open again, levels today high for his kind, but perfect for yours. "Do you wanna eat the fruits in the gardens near the Archives?" He wonders, and you seem to think.

"What about.. those?" You ask, pointing at all the groceries.

"We can eat the icecream there too. I've got a spare blanket we can sit on, in the car." He says, leaning in to rest his chin on your shoulder. "I wanna have some.. cozy time with my baby, what do you say?" He purrs, and you shiver a bit, bunny tail wiggling around.

"Hmhm." You nod. You're not sure what entirely he means by 'cozy time'- because with him, that could honestly mean anything.

Later, outside on the blanket he'd laid out in the park in a more secluded space, you're happily filling your stomach with the fruits he'd bought you. He's watching fondly, because moments like these remind him that the past truly is behind the both of you. You no longer seem scared of anything as long as he's around. You speak freely to him, you're not shy at all, and you've even become a little bit daring these days.

You're no longer the empty, confused and almost soulless hybrid he'd met years back at the facility he'd found himself in. You no longer need to be told exactly what to do or otherwise you'll end up having a panic attack. You've become your own person, independent. You've blossomed, vibrantly.

And he loves it.

He loves you.

Especially now, hours later back at home, groceries still in their bags in the kitchen while you whine pitifully against his lips, with his grin satisfied while he watches you cling onto him. Something you've learned fairly quickly is that his kind is one that treats intimacy a little differently than humans back on earth. There's nothing forbidden or to be shy about for his kind- every type of intimacy or romantic displays of affection are normal even in public- no one stares at a couple kissing or hugging. If anything, people will just instantly believe a relationship is bad if there's no PDA ever between mates.

And sex? That's something sacred, it feels like.

Enio people just like himself find pleasure by feeding off of other's pleasure. They thrive when their partners thrive, they're happy when their partner's happy, and they're sad or in pain whenever their mates are. They also have relationships between multiple people- rarely ever having just one partner. Jungkook however had told you numerous times already that he's completely fine with just having you.

'Why would I ever need anybody else-' he'd said into your neck, '-when you're making me lose my mind every single time we're together?'

He's long lost his shirt by now, his dark purple tentacles already eagerly touching you. They're clearly just as excited as he is every single time you're together like this- and it's honestly almost cute.

Almost- if it wasn't for one of them very eagerly sliding right through in between your legs, back and forth, making you cling onto his arms as he watches you with an intense gaze. His eyes have always been something unique- like two pitch black voids, but only ever if the light doesn't hit them just right, making you able to see the deep red-ish brown and slanted pupils, similar to a feline. But in times like these, in the barely lit bedroom of his, they're just two nightsky colored marbles, reflecting anything like a galaxy.

His tongue runs over his bottom lip, licking over his silver piercings on one side. His grin is that of a predator, watching his prey struggle. But not for it's life- no, you're struggling for entirely different reasons.

"They're horribly impatient." He chuckles when one of his purple appendages moves to instead play with your pearl, before it prods at your entrance, almost as if to see if Jungkook will allow it.

He doesn't.

And it's clear with the way they retreat from between your legs, instead roaming your hips instead, before two of the four spread your legs open for him. That's how it usually goes- a rule set by him. Only he gets to be inside you- gets to claim you like that.

Your underwear is still hanging from your ankle when he pushes himself inside, hands gripping the soft flesh of your waist. He tends to be impatient like this, can't help himself, as he always tends to say to excuse his eager nature. You're perfectly compatible to him, physically and emotionally as well.

You're his, and he just can't help but want to make sure everyone knows that.

The windows are open, and your sure someone way down can probably hear your faint moans, but you can't bring yourself to care about it. "My baby.." he purrs into your neck, where he kisses and sucks his marks, hands gripping your body wherever he can while his tentacles roam around to offer you their own ways of pleasure.

You don't kind the almost sticky substance they begin to leak onto your skin. You've gotten used to it by now.

You're dizzy with everything going on around you. You're unable to quite move much, but you don't have to- both Jungkook's arms and his extra appendages make sure to keep you in place while his hips snap into yours, skin wet as it stays connected to his with thin strands of both your arousal and the sweet smelling precum of his tentacles.

A year ago, you would've tried to hide in shame of it all- thinking you dont deserve nice feelings like this. You would've never thought you'd be loved like this, touched like this.

But he's made that possible. He makes it happen time and time again, and in every touch he places on your skin you can feel the tenderness he has for you in his very soul. He's not lying when he says he loves you. He's not deceiving you with acts of kindness and care. He means every single affectionate gaze he throws your way.

You love him because of that alone.

"My sweet little bunny baby.." he chuckles out of breath as he rolls his hips in just the way to make you arch your back in pleasure, as he leans over you to kiss your lips bright red.

He likes to bite. Likes to pull a little on your bottom lip and likes to get you into any position he sees fit. Sometimes he'll kiss up your back as he takes you from behind- other times like now, he wants to watch your face as you come undone under his steady pace.

It fuels his ego every single time seeing you all fucked out like this.

Every time it's proof that he's a good lover to you.

The moment you come undone and clench around him in waves of pleasure, he's quick to shoot his shot as well- hips stuttering as he pushes himself inside, one of his tentacles sneaking between you both, running over your pearl just to coax another orgasm out of you, thighs trembling a little. You're somewhat glad his basilisks are keeping your body in place, because at this point you're just absolutely boneless.

He's humming in pleasure as he sighs into your neck, body covering yours now almost protectively. 'Shielding' is what it's called- you've looked up some of his behavior just to figure out things you're too shy to ask him yourself. It's an instinctual thing- a remnant of a time long passed when his kind had to protect their mates whenever they were in a vulnerable state.

And then he moves again, tentacles slick with their own arousal as they wrap around your ankles, adjusting your legs as he moves lower, his hands on your hips cherishing your skin it feels like.

And then his mouth is on you, licking you up, probably tasting both you and him in a sinful mixture- but it's another behavior of his that always repeats. He does this every single time, claims it's nothing special and that for his kind, it's basic care after getting his own fill of you. He's constantly surprised at what things surprise you- but then again, you both grew up on entirely different planets, with entirely different culture surrounding you.

So it's normal that some of the things you do tend to catch him off guard as well.

Such as after you're both done showering and cleaning up- he's always surprised how clingy you get after being so closely together just minutes prior. Normally, with his kind, it's like he's recharged his social batteries- now able to go about his day easily, no need for too much physical affection. But for you it seems to be almost the opposite- you love to cuddle and be close to him afterwards, and maybe that's one of the key points that just make you so endearing to him.

He loves cuddling. He loves being lazy with you, especially like this. "I booked our flight to Doria for the end of this cycle." Jungkook hums into your skin, letting you lay almost on top of him, skin still bare. "It's gonna be a long flight, but I already talked to Yoongi about medication in case you feel sick." he reassures you, and you just nod, way too tired to really comprehend what he's talking about. "You're not even listening at all, are you?" He laughs because he knows as well- though he doesn't mind. He knows your body works a bit differently than his own, and knows by now he can be… quite exhausting.

So he let's you sleep, and decides that maybe a short nap isn't the worst idea either-

especially not if he gets to sleep with you in his arms.

[lucysarah-c]

going back to an ask youve answered, what do you think levi would do if he fell in love?

would he persue said person or not? what else?

Hi, sweetie! How are you?

That’s a good question. I think Levi's reaction depends a lot on her role. Is she part of the Scouts, or is she a civilian?

Regardless, I believe Levi’s first reaction would be denial—but not in the sense of "I'm not in love." Levi is straightforward with his thoughts and feelings, so he knows he’s in love with this girl. The denial comes in the form of refusing to acknowledge that he’s even thinking about it, even though he does it constantly.

For example, Levi might tell himself, "I don’t have time to invest in a romantic relationship right now." Yet, if she’s a Scout, he’ll always find time to check if she needs anything, perhaps offer to have tea or help with paperwork. He might think, "I can't take on another responsibility," but still, if her bakery is in a part of town known to be unsafe, he’ll often check on her as she closes up, offering to walk her home if she allows it.

When confronted, Levi would brush it off with, "Tch, it's my job as a soldier," even though he doesn’t escort anyone else home.

He’ll insist on getting supplies from her bakery, claiming she’s "the only one who doesn’t make crappy bread," despite never having complained about the previous shop.

If she’s a nurse in the military medical service, Levi might use the excuse that cadets are misbehaving just to check on her at the infirmary.

Although Levi claims he has no time for a relationship, he constantly carves out moments from his responsibilities to ensure she’s safe and well.

Levi’s approach to showing affection is very subtle. She might need to make the first bold move to let him know she’s interested and doesn’t think he’s being creepy.

The boldest move Levi might make would be to bring her a flower from outside the walls, something rare and unique. He could press the flower in a notebook and then give it to her as a dried keepsake. This gesture would be the result of months of self-debate. Levi’s idea of courting is straightforward and a bit rustic, much like his fashion sense—not the smoothest, but it gets the job done.

Levi might ponder, "What do women like? Sweet stuff, cute stuff, things that smell nice." So, flowers seem perfect—they’re cute, smell good, and are sweet in their own way. Maybe chocolates, too.

He would hand over the dried flower stiffly, saying, "Here, this is for you." She might be surprised and invite him in for tea and biscuits. During their conversation, she might mention other things she enjoys, like a specific dessert, flower, or color. Since Levi isn’t the talkative type, she would likely do most of the talking. Levi would take note of everything she mentions to ensure he gets the right thing in the future. He might also offer to help her around the house if she needs anything.

Perhaps, one day, she visits Levi at the Scout headquarters after a mission, grateful that he’s safe. They get so lost in conversation that they don’t realize how late it’s gotten. Levi might then suggest it’s too late for her to go back alone, and just maybe, she decides to spend the night there.

Link to my masterlist and my other works if you feel like checking them out. Tags!: @nube55 @justkon @notgoodforlife @nmlkys @humanitys-strongest-bamf @quillinhand @thoreeo @darkstarlight82 @angelofthorr @aomi04 @levisbrat25 @l3visthighs @hum4n-wr3ckag3 @hannieslovebot @starrylevi @rithty @mariaace @ackrmntea @emilyyyy-08 @levisfavoriteteashop @katestrophes @levistealeaf @an-ever-angry-bi @youre-ackermine @fxnnyackerman @secretmoneybearvoid @trashblackrainbow @flxrartsstuff @katharinasdiaryy @levisecretgfblog @searriously @blackdxggr @ackermanswifee @galactict3a @abiatackerman @braunsbabe @moonchild-12345 Wanna join my tag list? Here!

[onlyangel4]

imgonnagetyouback. fa14. smau.

fernando alonso x singer!reader

who knew a simple line in your new song could bring you to meeting the love of your love

warnings: cursing. age gap (reader is in her early 30s)

author's note: omg guys we have finished the series ! i will now be working through my requests. i specialize in song based smaus, but i will write whatever you have ideas for smau or purely written so do request any ideas that you do have. faceclaim suggestions/ requests for smaus are always welcomed. anyway, enjoy this

faceclaim: kelsea ballerini

taylor swift series masterlist.

y/ninsta

liked by taylorswift, fletcher, astonmartinf1 and 1,327,642

tagged: fletcher. taylorswift.

y/ninsta: i am so excited to announce that my new song imgonnaget you back is out now. i wrote this song with two of my favourite people cari and taylor. i am so excited to see what you guys think of it.

p.s please do not use this song as an excuse to get back with your ex, i don't want to be responsible for that

view all 8,521 comments

taylorswift: i had the most fun writing this with you

y/ninsta: we really did have the best time

fletcher: this is gonna be an instant hit bby

y/ninsta: only because it had a couple brilliant writers on it

user1: this is my avengers

user2: holy shit the aston martin line, i bet fernando is giggling and kicking his feet we know that he is a y/n fan

astonmartinf1: we are honoured to be mentioned in this hit

liked by y/ninsta

fernandoalo_oficial posted a story

written: safe to say this song is now on my pre race playlist

fletcher posted a story tagging y/ninsta

written: she is giggling and kicking her feet because of some news her manager just gave her

f1

liked by user3, user4, user5 and 1,211,19 others

tagged: y/ninsta

f1: she's an aston martin (fan). y/n has entered the paddock and no one is surprised by what paddock she is in.

view all 12,341 comments

user3: she looks so good omg

user4: i bet fernando is so excited

user5: she actually looks so happy to be there compared to influencers there

user6: my girl

astonmartinf1 posted a story tagging y/ninsta and fernandoalo_oficial

written: legends meeting legends

y/insta posted a story

written: made mister aston martin a few t swift style bracelets

fernandoalo_oficial posted a story

written: post race celebrations went hard

y/ninsta posted a story

written: forever grateful that we decided to tour australia in december it is so hot here i love it

fernandosightings posted a story

written: fernando spotted leaving an airport in sydney

y/ninsta

liked by taylorswift, fernandoalo_oficial, user7 and 1,100,986 others

y/ninsta: sydney you were fucking gorgeous. i am so glad we left you guys til the end of tour you really brought the heat and let me end this tour on a high. i love you all !

view all 41,837 comments

fernandoalo_oficial: you were brilliant, the best concert i have ever been to

y/ninsta: thank you fernando that is the best compliment anyone has ever given to me

user7: that concert meant the world and more to me, thank you for coming y/n sydney loves you

user8: her and fernando would make such a good couple

user9: isn't he too old for her

user8: i don't think so there are nine years between them

y/ninsta posted a story

written: i've been banned from steering apparently driving should be left to the professionals

y/insta posted a story

written: i love christmas

y/ninsta posted a story

written: happy new years

y/nsightings

liked by user10, user11, user12 and 538,922 others

y/nsightings: y/n and fernando alonso spotted in the vip area of taylor swift's madrid concert. i was always cautious about the dating rumours but now i am convinced, they are so cute together

view all 5,837 comments

user10: she looks so happy omg i could cry

user11: they are so cute omg

user12: i never imagined that these rumours would be true

fernandoalo_oficial

liked by astonmartinf1, carlossainz, y/ninsta and 1,572,899 others

tagged: y/ninsta

fernandoalo_oficial: spent winter break recharging with my girl

view all 86,274 comments

y/ninsta: love i was not aware that we were hard launching today

fernandoalo_oficial: what is a hard launch my love?

y/ninsta: you know what don't worry i can't be mad when you are that cute

user13: fernando randomly hard launching their relationship without y/n's permission is the most on brand thing ever

astonmartinf1: power couple fr

y/ninsta posted a story tagging fernandoalo_oficial

written: since my boyfriend decided to hard launch our relationship today, here is how he left me today to go to the first work day of the year

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[cordeliawhohung]

HIIIII I love your Mafia!Price Drabble and headcannons I was wondering if you have any ideas that involve Mr. John Price proposing to his gal or even mentioning having a wee baby :3

hi! thank you so much! i hope i'm understanding your ask correctly in that this is mafia!price you're wanting, so that's what i'm going to write on but if you were wanting captain price instead let me know and i can do another bit <3 i have too many thoughts in this pea sized brain anyway lmao also i decided to give you both the proposal and baby talk <3 (but the baby talk gets smutty cuz i'm feral)

warnings: fem!reader, mafia!price, head cannons mixed with drabbles, fluff and nsfw content, smut, mentions of pregnancy, mentions canon typical violence, hope i didn't miss anything (:

you can find more mafia!price in my masterlist <3

Proposing

The thing about Mr. John Price, is that he can get you anything in the world. He's sent you to lavish destinations for holidays, gotten you gifts that seem too expensive for a simple boyfriend to want to gift their partner; there wasn't a rock in the world he would refuse to move for you. So when he decided he wanted to make you his, to make his sweet girlfriend his wife, he finds himself stumped as to what to do in order to really make it stand out from everything else he's already done.

First, there's the ring. He had actually managed to obtain your ring size a few months into seeing one another. A dazzling necklace in a local jewelry store had managed to catch your attention, and he insisted that you go inside to check it out for yourself. While you were there, a ring that you claimed to be similar to your grandmothers had caught your attention, and the jeweler had taken it out for you to look at. You tried to put it on your middle finger, only for it to be too small, so you moved it over to the ring finger instead. It was beautiful, and in a style you kept gushing about. John snuck a glance at the tag, reading and memorizing the size and storing the information in the back of his mind. In the meantime, he bought you the necklace, of course. He ended up going to the same store in order to purchase the ring he wanted to propose to you with.

Then there's the location. Every idea that popped into his head didn't feel right. He was worried about trying too hard, about it feeling unnatural if he planned every single detail out, and yet feared that if he didn't plan enough it wouldn't be special enough. He was always a detail oriented man, and yet he felt as if he would drown in them.

So he lugged the ring around with him for months. Always hidden in his pocket, just out of sight, and yet he could feel it weighing heavier and heavier every day. His worry is something that you can pick up on. You feel it when you rub his shoulders in his office and attempt to melt away the knots in his muscles with your thumbs, you see it in the way he rubs his chin and stares off into space during meals.

John has always been honest with you, and so he made you very much aware of what he does for work before even attempting to pursue a relationship with you. And though he refuses to tell you any specifics in an attempt to keep you safe, you hear some of his men whispering about issues settling disputes with another syndicate. Fearing his stress comes from work, you insist on getting him out of the house. Though he suggests eating at the Greek place you enjoy in the city, or even spending the evening drinking away at one of his clubs (which is just a place for him to hide his tax fraud and money laundering "business"), you insist that you just want to go for a walk. And well, who is he to say no?

Darkness settled over the beach by the time you and John set foot on the shore, but the lights of the city emitted a golden glow that illuminated your face and had you looking as beautiful as ever. Salty water threatened to kiss your feet as you strolled along, and you felt John squeeze your hand while the two of you talked about anything that came to mind.

It was a sand dollar shell that caught your attention. A beautiful, round, and unbroken specimen that you nearly walked right over in the dim light. Fingers slipping out of John's hand, you stopped and bent down to pick it up, ogling over how pristine it was. You held it out, the item small in the palm of your hands as you pointed out each arm on the fossil.

Though you were enamored by the shell, John could only look at you. The way your eyes lit up, how you couldn't help but smile as you told him everything you knew about it, how you always seemed to find joy in even the smallest things. You were radiant, the only light he had in his life. Always smiling, always so kind to him despite how dirty his hands were from work. He didn't have a choice anymore, about being a bad man, but he had a choice when it came to you.

When you pulled away from him to wash the sand dollar off in the water, John found himself falling onto one knee. It was as if he wasn't in control of himself, like his body was telling him the time was right. Cold, damp sand seeped through the fabric of his pants, but he ignored it as he reached into his pocket and pulled out that small, velvet box that had been haunting his clothes for months. Despite all the bad things he had done in his life, he never found himself as nervous as he was in that moment.

Once you were certain all the sand had been washed off of your new possession, you turned around only to drop it to the ground in shock. John Price, the man who headed the most dangerous and effective mafia in the country, the man who always took care of you, who always stood tall and bowed to no one, was on one knee in front of you. The question in his eyes and stance was obvious, and yet you found your hand reaching up to cover your mouth.

"John?" you spoke, as if you were unsure of what he was doing.

He always promised himself he would never make you cry. Would never be the one to cause you any anguish or pain. So when he saw the tears starting to swell in your eyes, he couldn't ignore the way his stomach twisted.

"My whole life I've had whatever I've asked for given to me," he said, thumb brushing over the top of the box, "but I've never wanted something as badly as I want you."

His fingers gently flipped the top of the box open, revealing the dazzling ring you had looked at all that time ago; the one you told him reminded you of your grandmothers ring. A part of you couldn't believe he even remembered that moment, something that had seemed so insignificant at the time.

"I want to cherish you," John continued, "to care for you, to love you. To make you mine. Will you marry me?"

Your answer tumbled out of your mouth faster than you intended it to, nearly cutting the man off before he could fully get the question out.

"Yes!" you nearly sob, your own knees digging into the sand as you throw your arms around your now fiance's neck.

He wraps his arms around you in return, and his chuckle is low and rumbling and deliciously familiar in the way it vibrates through your chest. You can't wait to be able to feel that every single day for the rest of your life.

Baby Talk

Coming from a family born of violence, John was always a little scared to have children, but oh, did he crave being a father. More than that, he craved making you a mother.

But there were these worries that loomed over his head, terrified of dragging his children into the same life he was forced to live. So whenever he did mention children, he only ever sounded half serious.

"This room would make a nice nursery someday." "Maybe we could take our kids here someday, if we have some."

But you saw the look in his eyes. How his gaze lingered on a father playing football with his son in the park, how he chuckled at a young girl lecturing her father about something. Yet he never seriously sat down and talked about kids with you.

So you were the one who ended up really bringing the conversation up. Though, you didn't fully dive into it. Just simple little comments here and there. Ones that were more serious and promising than his own.

"John, look at these! Aren't they just adorable? I can't wait to dress our kids up in stuff like this." "Do you think we'll need a baby monitor? Might be a good idea if we set up a nursery, huh?" "Oh, I love this color. Do you think this would look good on the walls in the nursery?"

Half the time you spoke as if you already had kids or were pregnant, and your words left John's mind spinning. Torn between worry and want, his mind went back and forth between telling himself he shouldn't have kids, and giving into the desire to make you a mother.

And you certainly didn't make it easy on him:

John's cock always knew how to reach the deepest parts of you that turned your brain into nothing but mush. Legs thrown over his arms, he thrusted into you with such force he drew breathless moans from your mouth. His lips brushed against the side of your neck, breath hot and heavy against your skin as he grunted in effort.

Your hands pawed at his back, fingers digging into the rich muscle that covered his shoulder blades and neck. Sweat beaded in the dip of your throat just from the sheer intensity of it all; that burning feeling in your stomach, the tense muscles that shivered all throughout your body, and especially the words he grunted into your skin.

"So goddamn beautiful. Just can't get enough of you," he said, punctuating every word or so with a sharp snap of his hips that left you mewling.

When he was on the brink of his orgasm you could feel the neediness of his thrusts - the strained breaths against your ear - and you felt your cunt clench around him at the thought of him finishing inside of you. Before you knew it, your hands carefully danced across his skin until your palms enveloped his cheeks. You gently moved his head away from your neck, forcing him to look at you as he continued to push himself closer to the edge.

"I wanna give you a baby," you said breathlessly.

Never before had you seen your husband freeze so suddenly. His movements ceased as he buried himself so deep inside of you, you swore he was nudging against your cervix. The sensation ripped a tight moan out of your throat, but it didn't stop you from expressing your wants.

"Please, John, I want it so bad. Wanna be a mum so bad, wanna have your kid," you said, nearly begging. As you continued, you pulled him down until you were close enough to kiss him between words. "Please, let me do this for you, baby, I- fuck!"

John's thrusts continued with little warning, and they were just as passionate as they had been before, if not more. His lips silenced you as he smothered you with a kiss, and he ate up your moans like it was the only sustenance he would ever need.

"Yeah? Fuck darling, you don't know what you do to me," he muttered, voice strained with effort.

As he continued to pound into you, the sounds of skin on skin filling the room, all John could think about was you. You with a swollen stomach and breasts. He could imagine your giggle when you first feel your child kick, or laying in bed together rubbing your back when it ached too much. The thought of it all had him moving with a new sense of vigor, hellbent on filling you until there was no doubt at all that he'd make you a mother.

After all, whenever his wife wanted something, he would move heaven and earth to give it to her.

so i have a confession to make - in this previous mafia!price piece i wrote, i really wanted to put in wife!reader begging price to let her have his kid to thank him for all he does for her, but i wasn't sure if that was too feral so i left it out. but then i put it in here instead and, well yeah. anyway i hope you all have an amazing day, and merry christmas if you celebrate! <3

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Winter's King 26

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)

Characters: Geralt of Rivia

Note: Monday's are for pain.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

"More wine," Queen Jazlene demands. 

You stand at her shoulder, awaiting her every command. The familiarity of your duty feels safe though you cannot deny the peril all around. You move forward cautiously, sending a glance to king. 

King Geralt has not said or done much. He's hardly even touched his plate. For the first time that night, to your surprise as much as your relief, he looks at you. You pause, hand hovering before the ewer. 

"Another cup won't fare you well on the morrow," he girds. 

Jazlene huffs, "what else am I to do in this dull place but drink?" 

His lashes lower and he sits back. He props his elbow on the straight arm of the chair and gazes out at the boards full of bawdy voices and steps. He tilts his head as his pale sight skewers the chamber. 

"It is a banquet," he utters flatly. You remain close to Jazlene but retract your hand. 

"It is, husband, what do you propose?" She's breathy, almost hopeful. She peers out across the plucking of strings, "a dance?" 

"I know some steps," he extends his fingers, "suppose... there won't be much dancing on the road and Lord Vesemir did go to all this effort." 

"Truly? A dance?" She squals and grabs his forearm, "husband, is this not some cruel jape?" 

His jaw squares and he looks at her without humour, "only a suggestion. We are... married. The people should like to see king and queen together." 

You step back, as surprised as the daughter of Debray. The king himself hardly seems eager but he is ever aloof. You wonder if it is genuine. His refusal to look at you has you uncertain. Does he regret his missteps or are you once assuming too kindly of him? He has taught you those last few days to be skeptical. You are less than grateful for the lesson.  

"I would very much love to dance," Jazlene seizes his large hand and he winces, "thank you, thank you, thank you." She chants in excitement as she rises and the king steels himself as he does the same.  You're not so sure her glee is specific to her partner, but rather the act.

You can’t help but pity the queen. It’s clear she’s desperate for excitement. It would explain her flirtations and her tantrums and all her behaviour. Still, the isn’t the little girl flitting around her father’s castle anymore; she is the queen and her misdeeds will have consequences should she carry on. 

Your eyes drift out as a lull ripples over the chamber followed quickly by a tide of murmurs. The king and queen emerge from behind the royal table as curiosity thrums all around. The troupe continues to strum as Jazlene can hardly contain her elation despite the king’s stoic propriety. They begin the steps; hers jouncy, his flat and formal. She hardly notices her partner’s nonchalance. 

The other partners give breadth to the royal couple as others pause to watch. Whispers and cheers, some whistles encourage the king and queen. It is the first that any have seen the royal couple as one. 

You watch but hardly take in the scene. Your mind wanders to the chamber in the tower, then to the queen’s rooms; you hear only Geralt’s gritting frustration and the queen’s shrill defiance. They play their parts but you are not convinced. 

You peer around and your eyes catch on a shock of rusty orange. Gilles stands by the doors, amid as cluster of other guards. Where his fellow soldiers drink ale and grumble, he stares at the royal pair, bound by the sight of the queen on the king’s arm.  

You follow his gaze and meet King Geralt’s golden irises. His brow twitches and he quickly draws his attention back to his queen. You are confounded by him. You cannot figure if he truly has reconsidered his intent or he is merely hiding. He’s shown you before that he can feign whatever role suits his means; gallant king, pensive man, troubled soul. In the end, his only concern is his own will. 

Your chest rents deeper amidst your doom-laden thoughts. When did you grow so cynical? It’s these Hinterlands; their chill invades even the soul. Your lips tug down and you put your eyes to the stone wall. You need only see the night through. The road will keep all too busy for recklessness. 

As you stand there, you sense a shift, and turn to look over your shoulder. Lord Vesemir waves in your direction, bidding you to him with a pointed finger. You squint and peer back at the queen and king. You cannot disobey the host even if you are bound to a higher title. 

You sidle along behind the tables and stop behind the white-haired lord. He pushes his chair out, leaning into the straight wooden back. He looks up at you, cheeks ruddy with drink. 

“Little dove,” he grits, “how amusing, isn’t it, to see the king afoot on the boards.” 

“My lord,” you agree evenly. 

“I must say he never took so happily to the dance lessons as he did the sword,” Vesemir chuckles, “though he is graceful in both. My own feet do not listen to each other.” 

You bow your head, signaling your attention. You tilt your ear to him and stare at the table. 

“If any knew to watch for it, they would see he does prefer another partner,” the lord sighs, “alas, it would not be wise, as I’ve told him. A king cannot so quickly descend into folly. How many times did I say the same to his own father?” 

You lower your lashes.  

“I believe he has heeded my foreboding,” Vesemir reaches for his goblet and grunts as he finds it empty, tilting it to show his disappointment. You move forward to grab the jug of ale and pour him a new cup. He thanks you as he watches you. “And you. You had a restful night? You were provided the promised chamber? A bed?” 

“Yes, my lord, thank you,” you say, “it is rather much for a maid.” 

“We both know you are not any maid,” he pauses to gulp, “tell me, dove, do you find my halls too cold?” 

You set the jug down and step back on your heels. You fold your hands and consider his question as a riddle. You know not how to untangle the words of nobles so you will not try. 

“Cold, yes, but not intolerable, my lord,” you answer. 

“Hm, yes, but you may line your wool a bit thicker,” he reaches to pinch the cuff of your sleeve, “you would not shiver so much.” He rescinds his touch and looks into his cup, swirling the ale, “and your former castle, what was that like? Suppose the Duke of Debray is a rather busy lord, the way he scurries around like rat.” 

You hesitate. You cannot tell if he refers to Lord Dustan’s betrayal. 

“There’s always work for servants in a castle,” you say, “summer or winter. We were kept busy though not many ventured to Debray. It was always the lord that traveled.” 

“Mm, yes, you would not guess it but this vulture’s nest is rarely so lively as this. You’ve only seen it invaded by the king and his horde. When the winter is falling, it is so quiet. The snows drown out the noise below and the ice sparkles as diamonds...” he describes dreamily, “it is calm, peaceful. Not as life is at court. I prefer it. I was never one for that farce.” 

You look at him, listening intently. You think of the cave, of the moths, the desolation nestled within those icy walls. This place is beautiful despite its frosted bite. You might’ve seen clearer sooner were it not for the shroud cast on it by crowded halls. 

“It is safer here,” he continues, “and even as peace is declared, times will grow no less turbulent. Wars do not end so cleanly.” 

You furrow your brow and watch the lord, trying to unfold his words into their true meaning. He chuckles and empties his goblet once more. He sets it down and stands. 

“Perhaps this old man does ramble in his cups,” he shakes his head, “I thank you, dove, for your ear. Loyal as you are, gentle too. You could not know what spell you cast.” 

You retreat as Lord Vesemir angles his broad figure around his chair. He beckons as he turns and for a moment, you think he gestures at you. Instead, the maid, Ezme, appears from the shadows and meets him at the end of the table. He speaks to her as you back up against the wall. He walks with her from the hall as you stare after them. 

His words echo in your head.

What did he mean to say all he did? Another warning of what you already dread? A suggestion that you simply could never heed? Does he suggest escape even as he denotes your futility? Or does he simple speak for nothing more than his own voice? 

You look back to the king and queen. A new pitch picks up as the music swells with the stomping feet on the boards and the japes and jeers. Amid the revelry, the king remains as staunch as always, and once more, your eyes meet. 

Lord Vesemir is not mistaken. There is only turmoil ahead. 

⚔️

The night ends in a march along the corridors. You keep a distance from the king and queen as they walk ahead. Jazlene leans on her husband as she drunkenly babbles. Despite his discouragement, she kept to her wine. Ahead, Gilles walks with his hand on his sword. 

The guard opens the queen’s doors and the king escorts his wife through. You tarry in the archway as the ginger-headed man takes his post but cannot restrain from peeking within. Jazlene falls onto her mattress and sighs, giggling into a chattering shiver. 

“Oh, it is so cold,” she hugs herself, rubbing her arms. 

“You should not wear satin,” the king remands. 

“Rats to that!” She sneers and pushes herself up on her elbows, “I was plenty warm on the boards...” she looks at him coyly and grins, “with you, husband.” 

“And the wine in your belly does convince you of warmth,” he tuts. “I’ve known many men who drank themselves to death thinking it could cure the cold.” 

“Ugh, you are so dour,” she chides shrilly and sits up, reaching for him, “husband, we have a long road ahead. Will you not make use of our last night in the castle?” 

He huffs, “you are drunk and I must see Lord Vesemir about our travel-” 

“It is late. You might see to it in the morn,” she whines. 

He exhales again. He looks down at his boots and tilts his head to his side, but does not raises his eyes. He flicks his fingers in your direction, “close the door. I will see my wife abed.” 

Jazlene falls back and purrs. You can tell by the loll in her head that the wine will see her unconscious shortly. The king puts his hands to his hips and watches her as you back out and Gilles pulls shut the doors, not without undue force. 

“Go then, maid,” he snarls as he steps back against the wall. 

You obey. You are not certain whether to return to the chamber you shared with Ezme or to search out the servants’ quarters. You make no determination before you’re stopped the same slender shadow as the night previous. 

It is Ezme, as if she was summoned by the very thought of her. She is silent as she nods and turns to lead you onward. You follow without bidding. Your stomach churns as you already know she is not taking you to sleep. Something is amiss. 

You stop before a set of doors marked by iron vultures’ heads. She knocks and enters, letting you in after her. Within, Lord Vesemir sits before a fire, the glow flickering over him as he watches the flame. His shirt is untucked, his jacket disposed, and his hair hangs around his bullish face. 

“Dove, your wings cannot weather these winter winds,” he declares sonorously. 

You’re silent. Ezme closes the doors as you remain close to them. You peer around warily. She goes to the lord of the castle and he reaches to squeeze her hand. He brings it to his lips and kisses it. You blink as you stare at them. They are... 

“Please, sit down,” Vesemir insists, “I suppose we will be waiting some time for our king.” 

You don’t understand. Lord Vesemir and Ezme? A noble and a servant. Yet he warns King Geralt against the same with you. It is their manner, you suppose, to do what they would tell others not to. 

You don’t move. You crane to look at the doors then back to the maid and her master. It seems both Geralt and Vesemir agreed upon his attendance there that night but what place do you have there? You are not so brazen as to ask. 

You relent and come further into the chamber. You sit upon the wooden stool close to the wall as Ezme lights another lamp and sets it on the table. You wring your hands in your lap as you wait in silence. The lord lowers his head, patient as he closes his eyes. Or perhaps, fatigued as you are. 

Time sifts through the air like sand through a sieve. Slow and grinding. You stare at your skirts as the other maid drifts like a wraith and the lord sits as a statue. The longer you wait, the deeper the pit grows in your gut. You are owed no explanation but you long for one. 

Finally, there is a tap at the doors. Just the one. Hard but not violent. Ezme moves to open the door. You stand out of habit and a large shadow enters. It is the king. His golden eyes catch the lantern light as he sees the Lord sat before his hearth. 

“Vesemir, I have much to do before the sun.” 

“Aye, don’t I know,” the lord says calmly, “so you best listen and not waste time or breath.” 

The king angles his head, both curious and skeptical. You shift on your feet and the movement draws his attention. He winces as he sees you and his shoulders tense. He peers back at the lord in the light of the fire. He clears his throat. 

“Vesemir, what is your meaning here?” The king demands. 

[raz-writes-the-thing]

A Little Paradox Never Hurt Nobody (Doctor Who One-Shot)

Tenth Doctor x Eleventh Doctor x Fem!Reader 18+ ONLY / requests are open

Summary: It's been six months since Eleven joined you both, and it's safe to say things have escalated a little.

CW: smut, threesome, filthy stuff im so proud of this

DW: @nyxiethesimp @quickslvxrr @midnight--raine @blueberry-sunshines @stevekempscocktails @go-bonkers-go-foolish @peytonpenguin37 (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

___ ___ ___ ___ ___

See, the thing about Time Lords is that they are notoriously competitive. Particularly Time Lords of different regenerations in the same place at the same time. Particularly Time Lords of different regenerations in the same place at the same time who both had (or was it has?) the same companion. Said companion was you. Said Time Lords were the Tenth and the Eleventh regenerations of the Doctor. 

When the eleventh Doctor had spouted his way out of a portal and into the tenth’s console room, there had been rather a lot of shouting, a lot of confusion, and a lot of use of the word ‘paradox.’ Quite frankly, if you never heard that word ever again it would be far too soon. 

After that, there was a lot of discussion around Eleven not being able to be there because he already knew how all this was going to go. All the things Ten had yet to live, Eleven had already been through and while it was general knowledge that one should not attempt to change one’s own past- one was not always able to control oneself if that particular opportunity should arise. 

They’d tried pretty hard at first to figure out how to get him back. There was some ‘timey wimey’ reason as to why they couldn’t just use the TARDIS, and that had been about the extent of time and space travel knowledge you had, so you didn’t put any other suggestions in after that. 

And so, Eleven was still with you six months later. 

You didn’t know, of course, that Eleven still had you with him after Ten was due to regenerate in the future, not that you knew when that was, but what you also didn’t know until about a month into Eleven’s presence was that your relationship with Ten continued on with Eleven after a brief adjustment period. Fair enough. 

And then Ten found out, and as they were both technically (but also not really) the same person, you ended up sleeping with them both. It had been their idea, though you were pretty sure that it had just sort of happened and they decided to take the credit. 

Anyway, all this to say- Ten and Eleven knew how to play your body like a violin, and when they worked together it was as if they moved in tandem. It’s own kind of chaotic different to when they were feuding. They did that a lot too, to be fair. 

Today it seemed as though they wanted to work as one. Riling you up every way they knew how. Lingering touches in bed, a hard squeeze on the way past you, whispered words of desire in corridors and spare rooms. Ten had rutted himself up against your thighs at some point and had unfortunately had to leave before he or yourself could finish- some urgent TARDIS thing. 

Eleven had you pressed into the wall of his bedroom and had you grind yourself silly on his thigh. You’d not been able to get off, and Eleven had tutted when you’d whined that you needed more. You’d practically begged him, but he’d said no- “later, Petal.” 

Things had continued on like that, teasing and close calls where whomever it was teasing you had to run for whatever reason. 

Of course- they’d been planning it that way. The two of them, working together to get you as desperate as they possibly could so that when they finally had at you, you’d succumb to the pleasure with no thoughts left in your pretty little head. 

“Oh, look at that,” Ten said from behind you, pinning your legs open with his own. You made some sort of sound- you weren’t even sure it sounded human. “Haven’t even been fucking into you for that long yet- already fucked dumb, love.” 

Ten’s hands were wrapped around your waist, squeezing comfortingly as Eleven laid one hand on your knee and the other on your breast, flicking at the nipple while he fucked his hard cock into you over and over without mercy. 

“Mm- she does, rather, doesn’t she?” Eleven commented, taking the hand on your breast to grab you by the chin and turn your face side to side. With your muscles so lax, you didn’t fight the motion, and Eleven wasn’t being rough with you anyway (yet) so it wasn’t a big deal. You whimpered, eyes screwing shut and head lolling against Ten’s shoulder. “Desperate little thing, aren’t you, love?” 

You could barely form a response, tears welling as Eleven found a particularly good spot and rammed his cock into it repeatedly. Your muscles were non-existent by this point, having been eaten out twice and fingered to completion once on top of that as well. Ten had to keep your legs spread with his own, and he did so without complaint. Getting to see Eleven fuck you silly over the top of your shoulder was more than enough of an incentive for him. 

On top of barely being able to form a response to anything your boys were saying, you could barely keep your eyes open. You were so cockdrunk that nothing was registering for you except the deep thrusting of Eleven’s cock into your g-spot over and over like a mantra you never wanted to end. 

And because you were unable to keep your eyes open for more than two seconds at a time, you didn’t notice Ten’s fingers trailing over your hips to rub at your clit. You felt it though, and Ten had to tighten his muscles to keep you from snapping your legs shut around Eleven’s hips. 

“Oh, my darling,” Ten cooed, pressing a kiss to the top of your ear. “I know, darling. I know, love. It’s so much. It’s too much. You can do it, oh yes, I know you can. You’re such a good girl for us, aren’t you?” It was all you could do to not start crying with the overstimulation. 

And it wasn’t to say you didn’t feel good. You felt fucking amazing, so so good, but it was so much. So much pleasure firing through your nerve endings. You could feel how puffy and swollen your lips were stretched around Eleven and it only served to make you cry out louder. 

“Hush now, dear,” Eleven said, pressing his hand over your mouth to keep you quiet. You didn’t argue, whole body limp against their whims. Whatever they wanted, you would give it to them. Anything at all. 

Eleven grinned breathily, and fucked up into you harshly, not seeming to care how fucked out you were in the slightest. You wriggled against the fingers on your clit, and clung to Ten as though he were your lifeline. 

“There there,” Ten said softly, fingers rubbing tight little circles. “Oh, darling, oh yes, I know. He’s so mean to you, isn’t he? Mhm. Oh yes.” 

Eleven grumbled though it evened out into a moan when your cunt fluttered around him. His head dropped forward, already mussed hair falling into a curtain in front of his eyes. He gave his hips a few especially hard rolls, and your eyes fazed out onto the ceiling above you. 

“Oh, look at that, Doctor,” Ten said, cooing and shushing you comfortingly. “We thought she was fucked out before. Look at her now. Maybe we should give her a break, eh?” 

Eleven grunted, hips rocking softly now for a moment, giving himself time to think on it. 

“Nah, don’t think so,” Eleven replied, getting back into his rhythm. 

Ten’s fingers revived their assault, rubbing against you with such ferocity that you were afraid you might actually combust. Your mouth opened in a silent scream as your body forced you to climax again, the pleasure bordering on pain with how intense it was. Your clit almost felt like it was burning- and yet you didn’t want it to stop. Ten shushed you gently, rubbing his nose along the shell of your ear and pressing kisses to your sweaty hair as your body spasmed between them. 

Your cunt contracting harshly around Eleven forced him to cum, ropes of his seed painting inside you. The heat of them- warmer than a humans- filled you up so nicely that you were genuinely concerned under the foggy waves of pleasure that you might start crying. 

Eleven rode his high out with your body, no care given for your poor overstimulated cunt, and finally when the last rolls of pleasure were done with him, he pulled himself out. He did so slowly, and you grimaced slightly at the tug of your puffy walls around him. 

Eleven cooed and pressed a kiss to your cheek to placate you. 

Ten let his legs slide down the bed, and yours followed accordingly, unable to hold themselves up for even another minute more. God, you were well and truly fucked. Literally, not figuratively (at the moment, anyway). You lolled back against him, nuzzling your cheek into his neck. 

You hadn’t even noticed Eleven leave, but you definitely noticed him returning, towel in hand and water dripping off his face. Ah, he’d gone to clean up. 

“Now, Ten, dearest, are you planning to fuck her before we all retire for the evening?” Eleven asked without much charm. He was just like that. You didn’t take offence. In fact, his crass command of language was one of the things that made you love him more. “Only asking in relation to clean up, of course.” 

You could feel Ten hard against your backside, and you gave a half-hearted attempt to grind up against him. You were quite sore, but you wouldn’t say no if he wanted to use you.

“Can fuck ‘er tits if you like,” Eleven added, noting the way your legs subconsciously closed themselves. The ache was intense, but you considered it an added bonus to the pleasure you’d just been subjected to. 

“Oh, big load of charming you are,” Ten scolded. “Blimey, you’re lucky I was there to lay the foundations for you both or you’d have had no chance.” 

“Now, now, boys,” you said- the first words in a fair while to come out of your mouth and it was to stop them bickering. Even your voice sounded as though it had been thoroughly ravaged. 

“Can I?” The Doctor asked, turning his attention back to you. One of his hands squeezed at your tit, and you swore you could feel the lust rolling off him in waves from that one action alone. You nodded tiredly. Of course, he could. 

Ten leaned you forward so he could escape from behind you. Eleven took his spot without issue, pulling you up to sit against him rather than lay against him as you did with Ten. 

Eleven brushed the hair behind your ear as Ten positioned himself in front of you. You looked up at his eager face, running a hand over his chest and down over his tummy to wrap around his upper thigh. 

Just as you were about to let go and hold your breasts together for him, Eleven’s big, warm hands took their place, pressing against your skin, one forefinger flicking at a nipple quickly just to tease. 

“You’re so gorgeous,” Ten breathed, dribbling some lube onto your tits. “So brilliant, love. Just like that- oh, yes- f-fuck.” 

“Look at him,” Eleven whispered hotly into your ear. “Not even started yet and already stuttering.” 

You let out a giggle of a whimper, and Ten’s hips started to rock against you. Your tired arms wrapped around the backs of his thighs, giving his ass a little squeeze. 

Ten groaned, fucking your tits desperately. He wasn’t going to last long after having been teasing you and therefore himself as well all day, and it was barely another two minutes before his cock was starting to twitch and he started to moan with that lilt that he always did when he was close to spilling. 

“Please,” you whined, head dropping back against Eleven’s shoulder. “Ten, please- Doctor-” 

“Well, you heard the lady,” Eleven tutted, pushing your tits together that little bit harder to create a touch more friction for him. “You’d better cum then, shouldn’t you?” 

Ten groaned, throwing his head back and exposing his gorgeous neck to you both. Eleven nipped at the tip of your ear, causing you to gasp. 

“Cum on me, please- I need it,” you whined, brows drawing inwards in desperation. Ten seemed to finally hear you, and he let out a desperate little ‘o-hoh, yes, fuck-’ and he was cumming, spilling over your tits, rolling his hips back and forth to make sure he got the most out of his orgasm. 

You groaned pleasurably as Eleven let go of your breasts. A drip of cum dribbled off the curve of your tit and onto Eleven’s hand, who deftly and without hesitation licked it up. 

You were so fucked out and so busy thinking about how covered in spend you were that you barely noticed as Ten decided to collapse softly on top of you both. He snuggled close, not caring about the fact that he was now also covered in his own cum as well, and you huffed out a grunt. 

“Oh, that’s just lovely,” Eleven said sarcastically, now being crushed under two grown people. “Now I’m trapped. I suppose you’re both happy, aren’t you?” 

You giggled out a nod, and you could see Ten trying to contain his laughter as well. 

“Alright,” you say, yawning tiredly. Wow, that came out of nowhere. Suddenly you were oh-so-tired. “Ten minutes of cuddles and then it’s group shower time, yes?” 

“Maybe fifteen,” Ten replied tiredly. 

“Yes, dears,” Eleven added, and you could hear the affectionate roll of his eyes. 

Was it wrong, perhaps, to wish that Eleven would stay forever? Possibly. Was it going to stop you from wishing it quietly to yourself anyway? 

Absolutely not.

[dancinglikebutterflywings]

Meeting the Parents | Jung Wooyoung

-> Pairing: Jung Wooyoung x Reader -> Request: no. repost from my old account -> Synopsis: Wooyoung meets his girlfriends parents in an unexpected way. -> Warnings: slightly suggestive at the beginning but no smut. 16+ to be safe. -> Word Count: 559 -> Requests: Open.

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©️ 2024 dancinglikebutterflywings - do not copy/modify/repost anywhere. reblog instead.

Likes, comments & reblogs are welcomed and appreciated, thank you. 

In only Wooyoung’s shirt from last night and a pair of underwear, Y/N stands at the kitchen sink, cleaning the dishes Woo used to make breakfast. She has ATEEZ’s latest album playing in the CD player hooked on the wall.   

Engrossed in IT’s You, she doesn’t know her boyfriend has come up behind her until she feels his arms wrap around her waist and his face nuzzles into the crook of her neck.  

“Do you want some help?” he softly asks before his lips gently brush against her smooth skin.   

“Nope,” you reply, a quiet huff leaving her lips as he reaches the spot below her ear that has her weak.   

Her mind goes blank as her body reacts Wooyoung’s light touches as the sneak under his shirt she’s wearing, and his teeth lightly scrap against the spot below her ear. Her head resting back against his shoulder, her body pushes up against his hands, her wet hands drop the dish she’s washing and grasp his hands over the shirt and moving them to where she wants them the most. Only Wooyoung has ever been able to make her body react the way it does when he touches her.   

Unable to hold back anymore, Wooyoung moves his hands to her hips and turns her around, crashing his lips to hers in a heated and bruising kiss. As her arms go around his neck, his hands slide down to her thighs. He lifts her as if she weighs nothing and sits her on the counter before his hands make their way back under the shirt.  

He breaks the kiss, to lift the shirt off Y/N but stops when a gasp comes from the entry way of Y/N’s small apartment. Eyes wide with shock, he quickly steps back from Y/N as she quickly jumps off the counter looking just as mortified and embarrassed as he does.   

Standing in the entry way, is Y/N’s parents looking as equally mortified as the young couple.   

“Appa, Eomma! What are you doing here?” Y/N questions them partly hidden behind her shirtless boyfriend, her face flushed red, unsure of what else to say or do.  

“Surprise?” her mother tries to exclaim with an enthusiastic tone, but it came out more like a question, and looking as if she doesn’t know what else to say.  

“This is uh... This is Wooyoung,” she awkwardly introduces her boyfriend.   

It’s the first time he’s meeting her parents in their six-month relationship. They had made plans earlier, but they always fell through. 

Wooyoung awkwardly bows to them still wanting to be as respectful as he can be. He was already nervous about meeting the two people who created the person he loves the most and plans to spend the rest of his life with. He never imagined he would be meeting them this way.  

Her parents bow back as Y/N introduces them to Wooyoung. The air around them grows even thicker with awkwardness until her mother’s giggling cuts through the tension.   

“I never thought I would be meeting my future son-in-law this way,” she chuckles, causing the younger couple to blush even more. “Go put some clothes on the both of you so we can give you a hug.”  

“Yes, ma’am,” Wooyoung bows once more before quickly disappearing back into Y/N’s bedroom.   

Y/N ignores her mother’s order and hugs her anyway. 

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[blackreaderfics]

🎃Wildcard | Jason Todd x Reader🎃

↳ Pairing : TitansDCverse!Jason Todd x Virgin!Reader

↳ Rating : E (18+ minors dni‼️)

↳ Summary : A round of Cards Against Humanity gets a little wild during “Game Night” at Titans Tower

↳ W.C : ~3.4k

↳ A/N : welcome to spooky season. this is my first ever fic for kinktober🧡👻 idk if this is controversial buuut I love that actor’s portrayal of Jason🫣

↳ Tags + Warnings: dubcon elements, oral (male receiving), face-fucking, orgy, stripping, degradation (“slut”), coercion, alcohol consumption (beer), teabagging, bullyish!jason x shyish!reader, reader wears glasses, reader is a virgin, jason is kinda a dickhead lol, side characters (rachel, rose, gar, and conner) are there, for sake of convenience they’re all 21+

Part 2

��Oh come on,” Jason groaned exasperatedly as you set your glasses on the coffee table. “Glasses don’t fucking count!”

After a successful mission and saving the world for the hundredth time, the Titans decided to unwind in the best way they knew how: a night in with board games and beer.

As usual, Jason had tried to make the games a little bit more exciting by adding a “fun twist”. Jenga became a drinking game; drink if you make the tower fall. Uno had become “draw or dare”, you could choose to draw four cards or get off scot-free by doing a dare. 

The “grownups” of the team—Dick, Kory, Hank, and Dawn— had excused themselves to do “grownup things” leaving you and the remaining group of young adults in the living room. Currently, you were now in the middle of another particularly heated game of Cards Against Humanity, the interesting twist being the person with the best card could choose for someone to strip an article of clothing.

Jason had been targeting you the whole night; teasing you for the baggy clothes you always wore. Purposely, just to annoy him, you’d only taken off your accessories and your zip-up hoodie.

Admittedly the clothes you wore didn’t really fit you right. You’d opted to wear oversized sweaters over fitted shirts, and unflattering pants over a more hip-hugging and slimming fit. Before you became a Titan, you were shyer than you were now. It had only been recently when you started to come out of your shell and get closer to your teammates. 

“Be for real. Glasses do so count!” You retorted. You had all but discarded your outer layers and were now left in pants and a tank top. You could take up a few turns with your socks and shoes if you needed to.

“Why do you guys wear so many layers?” Gar piped up. All he had on were his boxers and a single sock. Conner, who was sitting next to him, was equally fucked, only, with no socks as a buffer.

“Because we play idiotic games like this,” Rachel remarked dryly while drawing an extra card from the pile.

You and Rachel were the only ones currently safe from any unnecessary exposure. Rachel did wear a lot of layers, and despite having lost multiple rounds, still looked very much clothed. Rose sat far off on the kitchen counter with a bowl of cereal looking on with about as much judgment as a girl with one working eye could. 

“You know, offer still stands. You can still join us, Rose,” Jason addressed the grey-haired, eye-patch-wearing girl without looking up from the cards in his hands.

“Hard pass. I’d rather watch you losers get destroyed.” She then unceremoniously returned to munching on her cornflakes.

Your gaze settled on Jason who’d shed his leather jacket and still remained in a plain black tee and jeans. He was unfairly attractive in the most basic of clothes. And though you hated his playground jibes and dirty humor, you couldn’t help but develop a little bit of a crush on the messy-haired boy. When his eyes caught yours, you could see the wheels in his brain practically turning as his smirk grew wider.

“How about…” He started slowly, “Boys versus girls. If you guys win, then we’ll get naked. If we win, you guys get naked.”

Of course he would suggest that, you thought to yourself glumly. The thought of showing your naked body to your crush didn’t excite you, it only made you more nervous.

“You’re just saying that ‘cuz you’re losing,” you said, masking your anxiety with a chug of your beer, “Conner’s literally only got his underwear left.” 

Conner, hearing his name, suddenly perked up. “For the record, I have x-ray vision. I can already see everything anywa—” Gar nudged him in the ribs to keep him from talking.

Jason shook his head. “It’s no fun if we already know who’s gonna win. Let’s vote on it then. Who here agrees to a wildcard match?” He raised his hand, and predictably the two other boys followed suit. “And who wants to play the way we’ve been playing; the boring virgin Y/N way?” He taunted cheekily.

You felt your cheeks warm again. He was never letting you live down the fact that you had confessed you were still a virgin during a past game of “Never Have I Ever”. You raised your hand and looked around for support. “Rachel,” you hissed desperately when you found she had not raised her hand. 

“Seriously? They suck at this game. It’s not like they’re gonna suddenly win out of nowhere," Rachel whispered back.

“In that case, I’ll play too,” Rose hopped off the counter and plopped on the couch next to you. 

“So nice of you to finally join us,” Jason crooned. “I’ll let you do the honors.” He passed her the deck he’d been shuffling for her to deal and sat back. 

After Rose had dealt all the cards, you looked at your hand. The deck you were playing with was a custom-made deck that Dick had ordered to round out the Tower’s impressive board game collection.

As a collective, you all pooled in ideas resulting in a deck of cards ranging from the peculiar to the mundane; from “taking shots off Nightwing’s ass”; to “Batman’s Worst Nightmare”; to names of each of your superhero aliases including all of the Justice League. For some reason, however, all the cards in your current hand were names.

“Make me laugh,” Rose ordered primly as she set down her card and folded her arms in expectation. It read: 

“If I could fuck anyone right now, I would fuck ______”

“Damn,” Rachel sounded impressed, “that’s certainly one way to start a round.”

Gar immediately threw his card down, followed by Rachel, then Jason. Only Conner and you were left.

“Time’s ticking Y/N,” Jason tapped a nonexistent watch on his wrist. Usually you would fire a comeback at him, but this time you could only frown as you chose your safest option and slid it tentatively over to the pile in the middle. 

“Time’s up, Conner,” Rose said as she gathered the cards. He passed it over face down, obviously not very happy about his choice. 

“Okay, we have a ‘Wonder Woman’,  a ‘Poison Ivy’….” She glanced around the room to see if anyone would give themselves away. “A ‘Robin’—wait...” She barked out a laugh. “I can’t not address this. I pick this one. Who fucking put down Robin?”

The room erupted into fits of laughter rivaling a high school classroom as they watched you sigh and bashfully raise your hand. 

“Oh, would you now?” Jason raised a curious eyebrow at you. 

“I-in my defense, there’s more than one Robin,” you sputtered pitifully before he could tease you further. You watched him stand up and begin to raise his shirt, giving you an eyeful of v-line and toned midriff. “W-what are you doing! I didn’t pick you!” 

Despite being only in a tank top, you felt yourself getting hot. Gar and Conner had equally toned bodies, but they weren’t affecting you the way Jason had been. Just to spite you, he kept his eyes on yours as he raised his shirt as suggestively as possible, bringing it up over his head and tossing it in a pile on his leather jacket.

“Just giving the person who wants to ‘fuck me right now’ a little preview.” He said, smile smug like he was doing charity for letting you see his 6-pack. 

Yea, real fucking Mother Theresa.

“Well, too bad I can barely see it.” You waved a hand in front of your face, “No glasses remember?”

“Come sit on my lap, mama, I’ll give you a closer look.” Jason plopped back on the sofa, abs flexing as he reclined with his legs spread wide, inviting you to sit with a pat on his thigh and a wicked smirk to match.

“Ugh, gross,” Rose made a face but appeared to be humored by Jason’s antics. 

“Anyway,” you interrupted desperately trying to change the subject. “Since I won, technically that means the girls won too. Rules are rules.” 

You had barely even finished your sentence when the boys immediately moved to take off their clothes. Your mouth went dry as they sat nonchalantly before you now, cocks resting against their stomachs.

In any other situation, you’d probably find this extremely inappropriate. They were your teammates. Sure, you lived together and had walked in on the occasional member changing or just getting out of the shower, but you were a bit buzzed off of the booze already, and this was different— you couldn’t help but stare.

“So uh…what now?” Gar’s nervous laugh broke the silence and everyone turned towards him; he blushed under the newfound attention.

“New game?” Conner suggested. He appeared to be just as clueless as Gar but with less of the blushing.

Rose looked over at you and Rachel for guidance, but seeing as neither of you knew how to react, the grey-haired girl merely shrugged back at the boys. “I’m down.”

“Ok, new game,” Jason agreed. “If you can make all of us cum in 10 minutes then the girls can get TV remote control privileges for the rest of the year.”

“All of you including Conner?” You asked brow raised, “He’s a super, that’s not fair.”

“What? It’s not like he has ‘super cum control’ too.”

“Actually, yea I—”

“Don’t answer that,” Jason cut in, annoyed. “Ok fine, I’ll give a handicap. If you can make one of us cum in 5 minutes untouched then the TV’s all yours.”

“Do you think we’re stupid, Todd?” Rachel narrowed her eyes at him. 

“Well…” He paused and tapped a finger to his chin to consider Rachel’s rhetorical question, flinching playfully when she raised her fist to jab in his direction. “Ok ok, but 5 minutes is a long time!”

“I meant the untouched part.”

“Your handicap is you can’t touch us, and our handicap is Logan.” He jabbed a thumb to gesture at Gar who looked like he was meditating to calm himself down. “He’ll probably reach the big ‘O’ before he reaches nirvana.”

“Deal, but if it’s gonna be like that then let’s raise the stakes a little.” Rose countered. “Not just remote control privileges. We get control privileges. Over you guys. If we win, you have to do whatever we say for the rest of the year.”

Jason fished his phone out from the pocket of his jacket and set the timer for 5 minutes. “And if we win, the same for us too.” He started the timer and sat back.

You, Rachel, and Rose made a beeline for Gar, who’d still had his eyes squeezed closed in the middle of the sofa.

“Fuckin’ hell, I should’ve known you’d try ‘n cheat,” Jason grumbled and stopped the timer. “No double or triple-teaming. One to one only and I get to choose the pairs.”

“And why should you be the one to choose that?” You turned toward him, trying (and failing) not to look at his dick. It was long and thick, with a slight curve and a pretty pink color at the tip.

“‘Cuz you wanna fuck me so bad,” he simpered, an impish grin playing on his lips.

“Oh god,” You rolled your eyes.

“Let him choose,” Rose challenged unfazed at Jason’s constant goalpost moving. “Whatever strategy he thinks he has isn’t gonna work.”

Jason ignored her and carried on with making the pairs. “Rachel and Conner, Rose and Gar.” He pointed directly at you, “You and me.”

Upon his directions, the three of you moved to stand in front of your now-designated partners. Finally satisfied, Jason set the timer again and pressed start. Almost immediately Rachel and Rose set to work on their mission, stripping their clothes down to their underwear. You tentatively followed suit, shimmying out of your jeans and kicking them aside. Jason eyed you, fully reclined in his seat with his hands comfortably behind his head. 

“Well, this is gonna be easier than I thought,” He yawned, looking as nonchalant as ever. 

“I doubt your porn-addled brain has ever seen a real woman before, Jason.” The taunts you directed at him should’ve sounded more confident, but instead were dulled by your nervous fidgeting at the hem of your shirt. 

This was the first time you’d ever been half-naked in front of a boy. And not just any boy, but a boy you liked. But the way he always seemed to tease you and make sexually insensitive jokes at your expense made you anxious. It wasn’t overt bullying, but the little comments he would sneak here and there were beginning to eat at you. If you showed him any more of your body, would he make fun of you even more?

“Trust me, I’ve seen plenty,” He assured, “But how ‘bout you jog my memory and demonstrate?” His gaze moved down your chest and back up to your eyes, daring you to take it off. 

You fidgeted again under his stare, feeling a sensation growing in the pit of your stomach. It was a mix of anxiety, embarrassment, and something else you could quite place. When you glanced over to the other pairs, Rachel had already taken her top off and Rose was in the middle of a strip tease. 

“Four minutes,” Jason announced, with a bored expression. 

Feeling a sense of urgency, you pulled off your tank top, exposing your lacy bra. When his dick twitched, both your eyes shifted to the hardening situation in his lap. You could see him fighting the urge to touch himself now, and that gave you a burst of confidence. 

Rachel and Rose were now in between Gar and Conner’s legs, not touching them, but teasing them by blowing hot air on their cocks. You followed suit, with only three minutes left you had to do something. After all, forfeiting your will to the whims of three boys with raging hormones didn’t seem like a fun idea, especially since you knew how playfully vindictive they could get. They’d probably try and make you human furniture or whatever other sick and twisted thing they could think of. You shuddered at the thought of the kind of torture they could come up with.

You sank to your knees and sat between Jason’s legs. You watched him involuntarily swallow and sit up straighter, pulling his hands down from his head to steady himself and clutch at the couch cushion beneath him. 

“Three minutes,” Jason glanced at his phone, but he wasn’t as confident as he was before. If anything, he seemed much more distracted by your presence at his feet.

Satisfied with his change in demeanor, you only smiled at him, fluttering your lashes at him as you brought your mouth closer to his balls. You opened your mouth and exhaled softly.

He hastily brought a hand to his cock—beads of precum already spilling from its tip—and made minute motions with the pad of his thumb to calm himself down. His chest raised with shallow breaths as he looked down at you now, eyes heavily lidded with lust and wanting. 

“Fuck it—” He hissed and without warning, reached his other hand around the back of your head, pushing your nose into his balls as he began to jerk off. Your eyes widened, taken by surprise at his sudden actions.

From where you were kneeling you could already see Rachel and Rose giving their partners full-on blowjobs, completely forgetting the game they had agreed to earlier. The sensation in your stomach moved down to your clothed sex, and you could feel a tingling sensation as he rubbed your face obscenely against his balls, moaning with need.

“Open your mouth —oh fuck— please.” His voice sounded strangled as he held you at the base of his cock, masturbating desperately to chase his release.

You obliged his request, opening up and taking his balls into your mouth, looking up at him as you felt his grip on the nape of your neck tighten. He was clearly getting off from the sight of you beneath him, massaging thoroughly with the flat of your tongue. He brought your head back and, with his other hand, held his cock by the base. 

He groaned again when he saw your lips now glossy with spit. “Open f’me again, baby?” he asked despite the fact that the tip of his cock was already being pressed to your lips. Your cheeks warmed as he let out a moaning “fuuuck” when you opened your mouth again to allow him inside. He pushed your head down deeper to take all of him in, and your eyes began to water as the tip of his cock grazed the back of your throat. 

“You don’t know how fucking pretty you look with my cock in your mouth, Y/N,” he murmured, releasing the pressure off your head for you to catch your breath. He let out a short laugh as if your gasping for air was funny to him.

“Had no idea you were such a fucking slut under all those clothes. How’re you a virgin when you’re takin’ my cock this good, hm?” His voice was gentle and soft but borderline condescending as he spoke. 

Jason brushed away a tear from your eye and leaned over to bring you into an open-mouthed and sloppy kiss, tasting himself on your tongue. A string of saliva connected at both of your lips when you separated. 

“Gonna fuck that pretty little mouth of yours. Keep it open,” He instructed. Within seconds he was guiding your head back on his cock, bucking up into your mouth and against your throat. You made a garbled sound, which only seemed to make him thrust harder. 

“Oh fu— that’s so fuckin’ good, baby keep doin’ that,” he moaned, though you weren’t doing much except letting your head loll up and down like a brainless doll with the support of his hand at the back of your neck. 

The living room was now filled with the pleasured moans of the three boys and the gagging ‘gluck gluck’ sounds of the three girls as each of them fucked into your mouths, getting off on the lewdly slick sounds of their cocks pistoning in and out in a relentless rhythm. Your mouths became just another hole for them to fuck.

“Shit—” His hips stuttered; he was close. He brought both hands to your head pushing it down so your nose pressed against his base. “You know how to swallow right, baby?” He grunted. 

You couldn’t respond with words readily—your nose was plugged and his cock clogged your windpipe— instead, your throat closed over his tip, as if a Pavlovian response to his question. He groaned and not shortly after, you felt his hot cum shooting down your throat. 

When his softening cock finally left your mouth, you swallowed his sticky release as best as you could with your punished throat. He swiped some of the cum the had dribbled down your lips with his thumb and pushed it past your lips, making you suck it. 

“You’re so fucking hot,” he said breathlessly as he watched you suck his thumb, mesmerized by the way your eyes locked on him. A loud moan from Gar interrupted, making both you and Jason tear your eyes off each other. The green-haired boy was currently stroking his cum onto Rose’s waiting tongue. About a minute later, Conner came too. 

It was only then that you realized that Jason had come the fastest; faster than the “handicap” he’d claimed Gar to be.

“So…I’m guessing that means we won?” Rachel had already started pulling her clothes back on. Since she started dressing, everyone else mundanely followed suit. 

Jason tugged his jeans back on, “Sure. Fine. Whatever, we’re all yours for the next three months,” he sounded less than enthused but still took the time to find your discarded tank top and jeans and toss them over to you as well.

Rose threw her shirt back on and adjusted her eyepatch. “Girls, what are we thinking? Anything we want our new servants to do for us?”

“Hmm…” You tapped your chin in mock thought, giving Jason a sly look that could give one of his own cheeky smirks a run for its money. “Oh, I‘ve got a few ideas.”

©️ blackreaderfics // dividers by cafekitsune & poison-aesthetics

[savvythepirate]

How they react when seeing scars from the past

Jack Sparrow:

• You couldn’t deny the fact that you instantly felt insecure about the scars from your dark past when Jack Sparrow saw them for the first time

• Jack may think that someone is currently hurting you and will question you about it, at first he thinks otherwise as you tell him the honest truth

• Jack would want to and is capable of disposing of anyone who has the nerve to hurt you, you may have to hold him back before things end badly

• “If you want them to live, you better keep them out of my sights.” He would say and you would just roll your eyes at that statement from him

• “You’re being ridiculous.” You throw back, in return, getting a scoff as he turns to walk away

• As if Jack Sparrow wasn’t overly protective already, this made him even more, especially after telling him about the painful past, how they got there and who actually did this to you

• You agree that if Jack ever encounters the monster, he could do whatever he pleases

Hector Barbossa:

• Although you knew you couldn’t hide the scars forever, Barbossa would see them sometime and you won’t have a choice other than to be truthful of how you received scars from the past

• After he sees them for the first time, he thinks that you’re in harm’s way and you’re just not telling him

• Once you’re finally able to get him to calm down, you’re able to tell him how they really did happen and Barbossa believes you, but he still can’t shake the thought that you aren’t being completely honest in the beginning after he made his own suggestion on how they came to be

• You reassure him continuously until he gets it through his head, which takes you a while but you’re able to help him think of it differently than before

• In the beginning, Barbossa is actually very understanding about how this can be a sensitive topic for you or anyone for that matter to talk about, so he waits patiently on your terms when you’re ready to tell him

• The only thing you aren’t completely truthful about are the names you had given him of who did that to you, you change their names to protect their identity from Barbossa

• You’re a very forgiving person and that’s one of the things Barbossa loves about you

• You couldn’t help it, you were born that way and continue to live it

Will Turner:

• He’s not quite sure what to make of it at first, but when you tell him your story, you don’t leave out a detail and it hits home to him

• Ever since seeing your scars for the first time, Will has sworn to be even more overly protective of you

• He keeps a sharp eye on you, and when he can’t, he gets someone else to look after you, not giving that person a choice, he couldn’t go without knowing you were more than okay and safe

• It helps him to have a peace of mind knowing you were being looked after, when he asked who did this to you, you made the mistake of telling him the actual names of those responsible for it and would later come to regret it

• Will secretly turns it into a manhunt to catch those responsible

• You don’t find out until they have actually found the people, they bring them to trial and sentence them

• They were sent to be executed, but you didn’t attend it

• You’re a little upset that Will went and did that, but than you’ve come to understand that he did so with reason and now, with that taken care of, it makes it a little safer for you and other individuals

• It prevents them from hurting anyone else and you took victory in that

• Though you were a little more forgiving than Will, you wanted others to be safe and sometimes there is no other way to make sure of that

• Will would eventually come find you later and apologize to you for doing what he did

• You had already forgiven him

***

@savvythepirate

Requests: OPEN

Tags: @princessofthornsandroses @justafairytailofinnocence @royisrandom @friendlynova @mypookiebeardavyjones @imalittleoutthere @marsswann @always-on-hiatus @aresrivas

Characters:

• Jack Sparrow

• Davy Jones

• Hector Barbossa

• Will Turner

[bradshawssugarbaby]

Meet The Teacher - Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

summary: Bradley Bradshaw's re-entering civilian life with a new mission - teaching second grade.

a/n: thank you to @nerdgirljen for suggesting the idea with her breakdown of Bradley's military file, and thank you to @floydsmuse, @mamachasesmayhem, and @purelyfiction for reading this over for me last night 😅

pairing: teacher!Bradley Bradshaw x single mom!reader (last name is given to reader) warnings/content: mentions of trauma/injury, mentions of death/parent loss, Bradley pining for a student's mom, allusions to smut (masturbating (m)).

word count: 2.9k

taglist: @avengersfan25 @nouis-bum @sorchathered @hangmansgbaby @sarahsmi13s @jessicab1991 @atarmychick007 @b-bradshaw @djs8891 @primroseluna @silversprings-mp3 @drxgxnslxyer @gardenavenue @seitmai @unhinged-bitch @mattyskies

“You’ve got this, Bradshaw. You’ve got this. It’s just two dozen second graders. You’ve flown fighter jets and stared enemy aircraft in the eye, shot them down midair, you can handle a classroom of second graders.” 

Bradley repeated his mantra over and over in the rearview mirror of his car, taking a deep breath as he nodded his head. He adjusted the collar on his baby blue and white striped dress shirt, fingers tracing over the silver chain of his dog tags. His breath hitched in his throat as he ran his fingertip over the beaded chain, letting it out in a strained sigh. He was venturing into uncharted waters here, and he was beginning to wonder if he was in over his head. 

Six months ago, he was flying planes, one of the US Navy’s finest aviators. He’d never cared much about what he could have been doing if he hadn’t become a pilot - he’d known as long as he could remember that he wanted to fly. Since his accident though, he began to process all the things he’d let himself miss out on over the past 18 years. At 40 years old, he knew he was pushing his body to its limits, but he didn’t think he’d reached that threshold yet. 

He was wrong. 

It’d been a routine flight exercise, the kind he’d done about 40,000 times before in his career. His plane’s engine cut out, a mechanical failure beyond anyone’s control that couldn’t have been predicted. He kept his composure, pulled the ejection handle and parachuted his way to the ground below. In an ideal situation, he would have landed perfectly, safe and sound and taken to the hospital for observation but released the next day. 

Instead, he’d blown his knee out on his landing, making walking next to impossible, let alone flying. 

Presented with his options, returning to flying seemed unlikely. His knee would only likely get worse, and he realized, he sort of liked the idea of settling down someday — he knew forty was a little late in life to realize it, but damn it, he did want a family. He didn’t want to be that dad who couldn’t keep up with his kid. He wanted to be an active, fun parent like he’d remembered his mom being in her lifetime. He wanted to be able to dance with his new bride at his wedding, if it ever happened, and he couldn’t do any of that if his knee was fucked beyond repair. 

Dreams of coaching Little League and dancing around kitchens in the soft, yellow glow of overhead lights had suddenly flashed before him in his hospital room, and when the proposition of an honourable discharge came up, an offer absolving him of any guilt for abandoning his post in the pursuit of a civilian little fairytale life, he seized it. He loved flying, but he knew he couldn’t do it forever, despite his best efforts. He needed something to fall back on. And if these hopes and dreams suddenly crossing his mind — having a wife and a family, being a doting dad — were to come true, he needed to start somewhere.

Bradley always swore he’d never leave a wife and family behind. He’d seen what happened when a service member didn’t come home first hand - his dad was killed in a training incident when he was just over two years old, and he’d seen how his whole world turned on its side when it happened. Even as a toddler, he remembered a lot of crying from his mother, and suddenly noticing a huge absence in his life that couldn’t be explained. 

He didn’t understand what happened until he turned five, when he finally worked up the courage to ask his mom where his dad was. Why he left. Why he didn’t want to be home with Bradley. The moment he was old enough to decide his career path, he knew he wouldn’t be able to put a wife and children through the things he and his mom had been through. He was better off alone if he was serving. And it suited him just fine for the most part. The odd pang of jealousy when a colleague got married, the occasional feeling that he was missing out on something each time someone he knew announced the arrival of a new baby — they were easy enough to ignore when he focused his attention on his work.

Now, sitting in his parked car, an hour before the start of the school year, he was talking himself through how to survive his first day in his chosen back-up profession — teaching. 

He’d minored in education studies at university when he went. He’d promised his mother when he was applying to colleges that he’d pick a good back-up option to flying, just in case he didn’t get into the academy, and everyone knew he was great with kids. He’d often babysat for his mom’s friends, volunteered to coach softball teams and run summer camps at the community centre throughout high school. Teaching seemed like a no-brainer.

He let out a heavy sigh as he strolled into the school, his head held high, lesson plans tucked neatly in a file folder under his arm, his coffee cup in the other hand. He was ready to face the day, and whatever these seven-year-olds had to throw at him.

The day went on without a hitch, much to Bradley’s relief. Twenty-three little darlings sat in their desks, on their best behaviour for their first day of class. He knew it was unlikely that they’d continue to be so well-behaved, but he savoured it while it lasted. His co-workers seemed laidback and relaxed, friendly smiles and waves exchanged frequently in passing, words of advice and encouragement spoken at length over lunch and prep times. 

Three o’clock came faster than anticipated, and Bradley felt like he’d barely covered any of his plans for the day. At dismissal, he’d politely waved goodbye to each and every child, introducing himself to the parents he’d missed that morning at drop off, and greeting the ones he’d already met with brief updates about their child’s day. The last child to be picked up was a sweet little boy, with blonde hair and hazel eyes, freckles dotted across the bridge of his nose. Bradley’s brown eyes scanned over the attendance record in his hand. Wells Montgomery. 

At 3:10, Wells had grown bored of kicking his soccer ball around the grassy area around the side of the school. He picked his ball up under his arm and hurried back to Bradley. 

“Mr. Bradshaw, is my mom here yet?” 

“Not yet, bud. She’s probably stuck in traffic coming over the bridge into town. You know, it gets really busy around now. Do you want to come inside and read for a little bit in the classroom?” Bradley squinted, the sun shining brightly into his eyes as he scanned the parking lot for anyone who might be Wells’ mother. 

“Ok,” Wells said with a heavy sigh. Bradley furrowed his brow for a moment before looking back to Wells as the two of them headed back into the building. 

By 3:20, Bradley was beginning to worry about his new pupil. He didn’t anticipate a parent going missing-in-action on him on his first day of teaching, but faced with the possibility, he began going through the list of possible actions he could take. Just as he pondered over the idea of taking Wells down to the staff room to rummage the cupboards for a still-at-school-after-school snack, you came practically flying through the door, a panicked expression on your face, cheeks reddening when you saw Wells sitting at his desk, quietly reading. 

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry! I got held up in a meeting until 2:45, and then traffic was a nightmare, everything was backed up and there’s only two ways onto the island but I couldn’t ditch my car to take the ferry over, I’m so sorry,” you apologized profusely, nodding your head as you looked from Wells, to the teacher seated in the desk and back again, unsure who you needed to apologize to more.

Bradley turned to face you, his eyes raking over you as he assessed the situation. Dressed in a fitted lilac coloured pencil skirt, white tank-top and matching lilac coloured blazer, you looked like something out of a dream to him. He’d never given much thought about what his type in women was before. He’d dated blondes, brunettes, redheads, the occasional girl with bright pink hair, curvy girls, petite girls, mid-sized girls - he never had much of a preference one way or the other as far as appearances went, but God, if he had to sum up his dream girl right now - you were it. 

“It’s alright, honestly,” Bradley nodded his head, smiling warmly at you in an effort to ease your concerns. “I’m Mr. Bradshaw, Wells’ teacher for second grade. He’s had a great day today, we were just about to head down to the staff room and see if there were any rogue granola bars hiding in the cupboard for him and I to share.”

“Thank you,” you nodded, your expression softening as Bradley spoke, an instant wave of relief washing over you. “You ready to go, Wellsy?” 

“Mom, please,” Wells whined, shaking his head as he grabbed his book and shoved it into his backpack. “She thinks I’m a baby,” he griped, turning to Bradley for a sympathetic smile.

“Moms, huh? Mine was the same way with me.” Bradley laughed softly, waving as you and Wells headed out.

Later that night, Bradley sat on his couch, settling in to watch a baseball game as he poured over the plans for the upcoming week. Cracking open his beer bottle, he sipped the drink, sighing tiredly as he read over the social studies plan, visiting the list of important historical figures he was expected to familiarize the class with over the course of the school year. With one hand, shakily written notes were made in a notebook, scribbling out ideas for fun ways to engage the kids with each important person he was required to introduce. 

Setting the beer down on a coaster, he exchanged it for a slice of greasy pizza, his reward for himself at the end of a successful first day of school. He shovelled it into his mouth, sighing as he watched the baseball game unfold. The Padres were down 3-7 in the bottom of the eighth, with not much hope left for them to pull through tonight. Bradley swallowed his mouthful, brushing the grease off his hands onto the leg of his grey sweatpants.

Bradley yawned, tired bleary eyes blinking as he padded down the hallway to his bedroom. He sighed softly and settled into bed, his mind wandering as his head rested on the pillow. Before he realized it, you were on his mind. He’d thought about you a lot that evening, brief intrusions of your smile flashing through his mind as he tried to plan out the upcoming week. 

This time though, as he laid there looking up at his ceiling, he thought about your apologies for being late, how it felt like you were pleading with him or Wells to not be upset with you. He thought about how your hair, although tousled from clearly running through parking lots to your car and to the school, framed your face perfectly, and how even in the harsh fluorescent lighting of the classroom, you managed to look nothing short of beautiful. 

He thought about how well the soft, purple hue of your skirt and blazer suited you, bringing out the glow of your skin and the colour of your eyes. He thought about how it hugged your curves as you left, hand in hand with Wells, the swish of your hips as you walked down the hallway. He thought about how he was pretty sure he didn’t see a wedding band on your finger, but also admonished himself for even checking. He couldn’t date a student’s parent. He knew better than that. 

But still, he couldn’t help but think about you. 

The next couple of weeks went by and Bradley’s interest in you grew fonder. He’d begun watching for you subtly at morning drop-offs and pick-ups, hoping to at least say hello once a day. On the last Friday of the month, you stopped him as he headed for his car, watching as Wells played on the playground equipment facing the parking lot.

“Mr. Bradshaw!” you called out, and Bradley couldn’t help but feel like you were making his name sound like a chorus of angels singing. 

“Hey, Mrs. Montgomery! Is everything ok?” Bradley asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Everything’s fine, yes,” you nodded, smiling as you gently corrected him about your name. You hadn’t been Mrs. Montgomery in two years, but, you couldn’t fault Bradley for slipping up, you knew the school secretary likely didn’t alert him ahead of time. You stifled a giggle as Bradley’s cheeks flushed red with embarrassment, now his turn to apologize profusely to you.

You waved a hand dismissively and smiled, turning to watch Wells play once again. 

“You know, it may have only been a few weeks, but Wells speaks very highly of you,” you started, nodding in confirmation as you watched him play, your gaze turning to land on Bradley for a moment, “He hasn’t been this interested in anything since his dad moved across the country.” 

“Oh? I’m glad I could help him enjoy school again. I try my best to keep things fun and exciting in the classroom — kids learn better when they’re excited and interested in something. No one has fun being read to from a textbook over and over again all day,” Bradley explained.

“Well, Mr. Bradshaw, you’re doing a really good job of it. He came home excited to tell me that he learned about George Washington yesterday. I’m pretty sure two days ago he had no idea who that was.”

“Please,” Bradley laughed softly, shaking his head, “You can call me Bradley. It’s less formal.”

“Bradley,” you repeated, nodding as you chuckled to yourself, “Bradley Bradshaw?”

“My dad had a sense of humour,” Bradley shrugged, looking out at the playground as Wells chased one of his friends around. “He’s a good kid, you know. Wells.”

“I know, I’m proud of how well he’s handling things now that his dad got relocated. Pensacola’s a lot further than he anticipated. He was hoping for Corpus Christi at least.”

Bradley’s ears piqued at the mention of Wells’ dad relocating. Pensacola and Corpus Christi both housed Naval Air bases, he was more than familiar with both of them. He’d only ever been stationed between Oceana, Miramar and North Island, but in his eighteen years of service, he’d met plenty of service members who hailed from one of the two bases originally. 

“Wells’ dad is a pilot?”

“Mhmm, well, mechanic, actually. He doesn’t fly them in combat,” you commented, raising an eyebrow at Bradley. “You seemed to guess that really well. Most people don’t guess pilot.”

“I used to be a Naval pilot, m’am,” he nodded, smiling proudly as he thought about his accomplished Naval career once again. “Lieutenant Commander Bradley Bradshaw, US Naval Air Force. I was stationed at NAS Oceana, transferred here to North Island, wrecked my knee, now I’m a teacher.” 

“That’s quite the pipeline into teaching, Lieutenant Commander.”

“Please, it’s Bradley. It’s nice not going by my rank, actually.” 

“Well, Bradley, I’d love to hear how exactly you landed on teaching second grade as a backup to flying F/A-18s for the United States Navy some day.” You nodded, hoping Bradley wouldn’t take offence to the suggestion of getting together at some point. Even if it was just as friends, you’d welcome it.

“That sounds like a good idea to me, actually. I’d love to.”

As Bradley headed to his car, he felt a little bounce in his step. He couldn’t help himself. Even if this just turned into a friendship and nothing more, he felt grateful that you wanted to spend time getting to know him better. 

His drive home was filled with more thoughts of you, thoughts of your pretty pastel coloured outfits you always seemed to favour, thoughts of your perfect smile, always beaming and cheerful, bright enough to brighten his entire day in a way that should make the sun jealous, thoughts of your hair, how it always looked so perfectly imperfect. 

In bed that night, Bradley thought about your legs, how they were long and lean, curving at your thigh. He thought about how good your ass looked in your skirt earlier today, how the material hugged it tightly. He thought about your thighs, how they looked so perfectly smooth and soft, how your plain white t-shirt that was tucked into your skirt did little to hide the swell of your breasts, and the way the curve of your neck looked irresistible, how badly he wanted to plant his lips on your skin and cover you in a trail of kisses. 

Bradley thought about you in a lot of ways that night. None of them were ways he was proud of. But as he stared up at the ceiling this time, you were the only thing on his mind. He didn’t know much about how he’d go about this newfound infatuation with you. All he knew was that if he was going to settle down with anyone, he was almost positive it would be with you.