#my job my lover my apartment my credit

[bisexual-yuri]

being unemployed sucks and is scary, I want my old life back

[imnotshua]

show me how - kmg

٠࣪⭑ pairing: kim mingyu x fem reader ٠࣪⭑ summary: you meet mingyu in a bar and then you fuck. that's it, that's the tweet. ٠࣪⭑ genre: generic au, strangers 2 lovers, smut ٠࣪⭑ rating: explicit. minors do not interact with me, i'll block you. ٠࣪⭑ warnings: swearing, drinking, one night stand. ٠࣪⭑ smut contents: gendered terms, mingyu has an enormous cock (canon), kisses, v fingering, oral (f receiving), v sex, mingyu 🔛🔝, wet patches <3. teasing but it's good natured. if you think i've forgotten anything please let me know so i can fix my post! ٠࣪⭑ wc: 2k - complete ٠࣪⭑ a/n: i needed a break from angsty wonwoo and this just sort of happened, my bad, lads and ladettes. please note this is unbeta'd and unedited because it's 1am and i'm tired now thank u vm, any mistakes are my own but do lmk if u see any so i can fix ٠࣪⭑ thank you all for visiting my little corner of the internet. i hope u like this one<3

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · · Jeonghan always does this. He insists it’s his job as department lead to take the new recruits out for drinks, as a sort of ice breaker. Terrible idea, you always say, to feed newbies (far too much) alcohol on their first Friday, and expect them to feel totally comfortable in his presence come Monday. That’s why you’re always there too, because you can rein Jeonghan in (sometimes) and it’s not your department to actually worry about. 

Tonight is like any other. Jeonghan is playing matchmaker for some unsuspecting interns and Seungcheol is trying not to make moon eyes at him. Ridiculous, if anyone asks you, which no one does. You’re perfectly content sitting at the bar nursing your drink and texting Seungcheol to let him know what a down bad loser he is, until someone too enormous to ignore takes the seat next to you. And you’re annoyed, even though it is the only spare seat in this place, because his giant arm knocks yours as he calls down a bartender, sending your drink splashing over the counter. 

“Shit, I’m so sorry,” he says, grabbing for tissues and mopping up the mess. “Let me get you another.”

“Oh. No, I’m good actually.”

“That was a full glass of wine.” Here we go.

“Yes it was.” 

Seungcheol is texting you already. 

Cheolie: who is THAT guy Cheolie: you should fuck him immediately oh my god Cheolie: he’d swing you round like a bat

Why on earth would I want to be swung around like a bat?

“C’mon, let me make it up to you,” says Tall Stranger. Even sitting down he’s a head above you. He’s probably terrible for your mental health. ”I’d feel guilty all night if I can’t replace it.” 

“I don’t take drinks from random men.”

Cheolie: idk dude but he could do it Cheolie: he’s your type!!!!!!!! Cheolie: when did you last get laid even “Technically you’d be taking it from the staff. I’d just pay for it.”

He’s not even hot. He’s just tall

Cheolie: bitch i can see his cheekbones from here Cheolie: 11/10 easy

Finally turning looking at him properly, you have to give Seungcheol credit where credit is due. All smooth skin, big eyes, and perfectly full lips. You could cut your finger on that cupid's bow. 

“I guess you’ve got me there,” you say.

“I’m Mingyu.” He smiles wide. Oh nooo, he’s hot. 

I’m not fucking a stranger from a bar! Go tell Jeonghan you wanna suck his dick and leave me alone

Cheolie: :))))))))))))

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

“My apartment was definitely closer,” Mingyu says between wet kisses pressed to your jaw. 

You push him off to pull your shirt over your head and he gapes at your chest. Pervert. “Well, we’re here in case you turn out to be a killer,” you say. Mingyu crowds your space again so fast, slipping impatient hands down your body, warming your skin with them. Snaking one between your legs and finding the material of your underwear a little damp. “At least then my roommates could find my body.” 

“Not a killer–” he says against your neck. “But I am about to murder this pu–”

“Oh my God, never say that again.” 

“Noted.”

The best thing about one night stands with guys might actually be that you can say and do pretty much anything, and there’s little to no embarrassment. You can tell Mingyu here that it’s his job to make you come before he does, and all he does is nod, dumb and horny, and a lot into it. 

He moves back on your bed, pillows shoved out of the way and spine pressed against the headboard, and looks at you with something like trepidation. If trepidation could be sexy or whatever. You climb into his lap and take your time unbuttoning his shirt. Mingyu watches your hands as you brush against his skin and asks if he can kiss you.

“Since you asked so nicely,” you say, offering up your neck. 

Unfortunately, he’s ever so good. Just smiles sheepishly (very hot) and tugs your chin down to catch your bottom lip between his. It’s better than you expect. Attractive men don’t kiss this well, usually, because they never had to work for it. Unfair, really. “Let me make you feel good,” he whispers against your lips, deft fingers tugging your underwear to the side.

Everywhere goes tight as he rubs circles over your clit. Mingyu holds up your skirt with his other hand, leans back to watch, and the heat creeps over your neck. What was that you were thinking about little to no embarrassment? Disappears the moment you see his jaw slacken, cheeks flushing with want, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “You feel so soft,” he says. “So fucking wet.” God, who made him? You drag an unsteady breath as a finger slips inside, curls it just enough to make you whimper. He strokes you gently, working you open, slipping another finger in just as soon as he thinks you can take it. You can’t. 

“Fuck,” he gasps. He leans in to drag his teeth across your shoulder.  “You just got so tight. Wanna feel that on my cock.”

“Do you always narrate?” Your words come thready. Embarrassing times ten. 

“Uh– yeah,” he laughs. “Should I stop?”

“No, no. It’s okay.” 

“Gonna make you come now, baby,” he says. “It’s gonna be fast, okay? Need to fuck you.”

“Cocky–” you start, but he’s laving a flat tongue over the lace of your bra, making your nipple pebble through the thin material. His fingers slide deeper, his wrist coated in you, and the way he uses the heel of his palm against your clit is leaving you breathless. He smiles with pleasure as your moan catches in your throat. Applies the pressure, just the right amount, to have you bucking against his hand. “Needy.” He says it like it’s praise.

“I’ll snap your fingers off inside me, Mingyu.”

“Do you always threaten people?” He teases your clit again and it’s blinding. He moans as you clench impossibly tight. 

“Yea– fuck. Shit. Gonna come.”

Mingyu's lips find yours in a second. Licks into your mouth, kisses you through it. Hums happily, so annoyingly pleased with himself, as you shudder your way through your orgasm, a wet patch forming on his jeans. 

The rest of your clothes come away just as quick, and Mingyu groans like a fucking loser. It’s both gross and horribly attractive. Doesn’t move his hands from your body as you make fast work of his belt, lifts his hips to help you pull his jeans down and free his hard length. 

“What the fuck is that?” 

Mingyu blinks. “What is what?”

“That can of fucking Pringles you’ve got between your legs?” 

“It’s not that big.”

You can’t quite believe it. “Oh my God, you are going to murder my pussy,” you cry. “This is cruel and unfair. They’re gonna put ‘Death by Monster Cock’ on my headstone.”

“This is unbecoming.”

“Your dick is unbecoming.”

Mingyu looks ready to cry. “Are you going to touch me yet? I think I’m going to explode.”

“Yes, yes, fine. But this had better be as hard as you get.”

Unfortunately when you take him in your hands, Mingyu does actually get harder (hahaha you’re going to die) and you try to decide how you’re actually going to take this. 

“God– fuck,” Mingyu murmurs as you work your hands over him. He all but melts against your headboard, and you wonder just how many people have survived him. Not like– the size of him (well, that too) but the way he looks right now, sweat beading on his forehead, the way his pretty pink lips fall apart, like sins are spilling out of them. You roll your fist over the head and he keens. Mingyu sounds so good, you could get used to this. He groans, loud, pushing into your circled fingers like he’s desperate. You like how his chest heaves, all tight breaths and strangled half-formed noises. 

“I need– need–” 

“What do you need, baby?”

“Wanna be inside you,” he breathes. Pulls you down onto the bed, rolls on top to press a kiss to your sternum, and nudges your legs apart to slot between them. His cock slips against your cunt, still wet from his fingers. Reaches over to fish a condom from the pocket of his jeans (how presumptuous!) and tears the packet with his teeth (hot). “This okay?” he says, as he rolls it on. 

“Yes. Yeah. Be gentle, okay?” Embarrassing times a million.

Mingyu’s eyes go soft. Ew. 

“I’m always gentle.”

He is. The stretch hurts but he’s slow with it. Gives you a second to adjust, to angle your hips just right, before he moans, tells you you’re beautiful, that you feel so fucking good around him. He braces himself above you, slides into you so agonisingly beautifully deep you think you can feel him in your stomach. A moan escapes you, “Feels good, Gyu,” you whisper, and Mingyu swears. 

“You’re so tight,” he gasps.

“Pretty sure a cave would feel tight for you,” you laugh. Mingyu’s cock jolts inside you. “You’ve got the Hubble Telescope for a dick.”

“Please stop saying weird things,” he begs, and slips out just to slide back in. Pushes the air right out of your lungs. You forget to blink. Mingyu takes your broken cry and your nails digging crescent moons into his arms for the praise it is, and fucks you like you need him. His hands hold your thighs, rubbing slow circles into the skin with his thumbs, pulling them up around him to give him better access to your centre. Lets you hold on to him just to anchor yourself, almost lost to the pressure of your building release. 

Mingyu is so good at kissing. He nudges your cheek with his nose, bites open mouthed and wet at your jaw, presses one–two kitten kisses at the seam of your lips before he’s licking into your mouth, all soft lips and sensuality and tongue. He whines into your mouth as he fucks you, gasps desperately when you clench. His fingers are splayed across your body, touching everywhere he can reach with his huge hands, cups your breasts and moves to pull a nipple between teeth and grins lazy when you whimper, when you arch into it. 

He’s starting to fall apart now. Stuttered breaths and hasty thrusts, chasing your heat and his own release. God you wished he’d come inside you. He looks so pretty when he’s desperate. Eyebrows raised and eyes wide and mouth open. “Gonna come?” you ask. He nods with fervour. “Make me come again first.”

Mingyu doesn’t waste time. Loves a challenge, it seems. He pulls out without warning, leaving you empty and pulsing around nothing, fists his hand around his cock and thumbs off the condom as he dives between your legs to eat you out like a man starved. It’s embarrassing how wet you are. How he has you coming apart faster than you expect, how the way he sucks on your clit has you seeing stars. “C’mon, baby, show me how you come,” he groans between licks. “M’not gonna last.” 

His free hand teases at your clit, slips further to gather up the wetness on his fingers just to take it and run it over his cock. Fuck that’s so hot. He watches your mouth fall open, he’s all doe-eyed and too sweet for the moment, and you think he really must kill people, but by accident probably. He hums as he licks into you again, your fingers find purchase in his hair, pulling him against you tight and desperate and needy, and then his tongue flicks over your clit fast fast fast and you’re gone. Coming fast and hard, and he’s moaning at the taste of you, at the wetness pooling between your legs and soaking through the mattress. Mingyu’s done for too, “baby, you look so good,” he’s cooing, sitting up on his calves and bucking into his own hand and spilling his cum over your body. Spreads the mess over the soft skin of your stomach and tells you you look so pretty. 

God. You’re ruined. Upon your headstone will read death by softboy (with monster cock.)

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

thank you so much for reading! if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging so my fic can get seen outside my own little space <3 i love seeing your feedback. if you'd prefer to scream at me directly, feel free to send me a message <3

[floralcyanide]

― 𝚋𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚎𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚎𝚝𝚜 (nsfw)

⌯ pairing: bale!bruce wayne / afab!reader ⌯ warnings: smut, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, oral sex (f receiving), overstimulation, fingering, nipple play, friends to lovers, love confessions, mentions of fear toxin (dcu), no gender affirming language other than anatomy description ⌯ word count: 2.5k ⌯ summary: based on these prompts: “I dreamed of your legs wrapped around my waist.” and “How do you always end up under my blanket?” your best friend bruce wayne has been missing for a while. when he comes back, he has a confession to make. ⌯ author’s note: this took a little while to write because I wanted to write an actual fic for bale!bruce. I hope yall enjoy (:

divider credit: @arminsumi | @firefly-graphics | @cafekitsune ⌯ masterlist

this fic has been cross posted to ao3.

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

You’re busying yourself by folding laundry, trying your best to get your mind off your best friend Bruce. While his job is very demanding, and he goes away for a while sometimes, he’s never been gone this long. You’re beginning to worry- so much so that you’ve lost sleep and the ability to eat properly. But you know Bruce, and you know he’s resilient. It’s just a matter of time. But, of course, he was presumed dead for years before now, and that will always haunt you. So it’s not entirely irrational of you to worry.

A knock at your apartment door startles you out of your sleepy stupor. You set down the towel you were folding before shuffling to the entrance. You peek through the peephole to see none other than Bruce standing there. You swing the door open, and Bruce immediately wraps his arms around you. You do the same to him, holding him tightly, fearing that this is some hallucination from lack of sleep. Your face is buried in Bruce’s chest, and his scent tells you that this is real and he’s really here with you. 

“Where were you?” you whisper, tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

It had been quite a few days of radio silence from Bruce. You know he’s Batman, and he keeps you updated on his safety status. But he, of course, doesn’t tell you details of the villains and crimes for your safety. You’re his childhood best friend, so you knew he was Batman before he even told you. The day he told you, you just laughed. “I know, Bruce.” But you were still very concerned about his well-being after trying to approach one of his enemies. 

“One of the guys I was after had a toxin,” Bruce pulls away from you, looking around to ensure no one would hear, “It got to me.”

You furrow your eyebrow, “Come in.”

Bruce enters your apartment, waiting for you to close and lock the door. He shoves his hands into his pockets, unsure of whether or not he should explain the situation at all. But he knows he owes you an explanation. 

“A toxin, huh?” you ask, crossing your arms as you lean against the door.

“Fear toxin.” Bruce clarifies, “It makes you hear and see the things you fear the most, but they aren’t really there.”

You shudder, “That sounds horrifying. And you said you experienced it? How long did it last?”

“I was out for a few days while Alfred worked with someone to make an antidote. I saw things. Things I didn’t want to.”

You pull away from the door and slowly walk to Bruce, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Bruce looks at you as you stand before him, “No, but I probably should anyway. Considering the things I was seeing.”

You pull the sides of Bruce’s jacket together, holding onto them as you search his eyes. They’re different, and you figure it’s from whatever he experienced from the fear toxin.

“What did you see, Bruce?”

Bruce grimaces with a nervous laugh, “Are you sure you want to know?”

You look at him and nod, still clutching his jacket. 

“I saw you,” Bruce sighs, shaking his head, “Something kept hurting you and killing you over and over. And there was nothing I could do to stop it.”

You stare up at Bruce with a frown etched on your face at the thought of your best friend feeling helpless. 

“That sounds awful,” you say.

“It just made me think about a lot and realize things I didn’t see before.”

Bruce turns his thoughts over carefully, choosing what exactly to say next. He had always loved you, sure. But Bruce never thought of it as a romantic thing. Not until the fear toxin made him see things and feel things he had never felt or seen before. He wants to protect and care for you so you never have to go through what he saw you go through. Even though it isn’t plausible that you would, Bruce still wants what is best for you because he does love you. A little more now than he did before. You, on the other hand, have always loved Bruce. You've been enthralled with his presence since you were kids playing in the Wayne Manor backyard. Everything he did amazed you, especially now with him helping the people of Gotham. His intelligence, softness, even the cockiness he sometimes lets seep through. Even before, when he was a slightly bratty rich guy, you loved him. Bruce's absence for days has made your feelings for him more intense. With love comes worry and concern.

“And what would that be?” you ask.

Bruce pulls your hands from his jacket, enveloping them in his, “You’ve always been here for me, and I’m sorry I didn’t see it sooner. I love you and will always do anything to protect you.”

“I love you too, Bruce,” you say back, not realizing the total weight of his words.

“No,” he says, “I really do. It’s taken me this long to see, but I do love you. And not like a best friend.”

Your face softens, “Bruce, you don’t mean that-”

“No, I do mean it,” he says, squeezing your hands.

There’s a pregnant pause before Bruce slowly leans down to capture your lips with his in a swift, gentle motion. The world seems to stop around the two of you, the sirens outside quieting and the sound of your washing machine fading away. Bruce lets go of you and cradles your head in his hands, deepening the passionate-turning kiss. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him ever closer. Bruce slips his tongue past your lips, battling yours for dominance, which you gladly let him take. He guides you backward until the base of your spine is pressed against the kitchen counter. Bruce moves his grasp from your hair to your thighs, where he hikes them up around his waist. He smiles into the kiss, and you pick up on it.

“What?” you ask, pulling away briefly.

“I dreamed of your legs wrapped around my waist.”

You feel a warmth spread along your ears at that confession. Trailing your palms up Bruce’s neck and past his jaw to his cheeks, you stare into his eyes. A smile spreads across his face into slight laughter, to which you mirror. 

“What else have you dreamed of, Bruce?”

“Want me to show you?”

A nod of your head leads to Bruce walking you to your bedroom, still perched on his waist. He gently lies you down on the bed before climbing over you, his strong arms on either side of your head. He lowers himself onto you to kiss you again, his weight on his forearms by your ears. Bruce then moves to your jaw, teasing you with small kisses and nips. You can’t help but giggle at the feeling of his stubble on your skin, tickling it. Bruce travels down your neck and then down to your torso, where he lifts your shirt and kisses your stomach. You watch with content as he tugs your shirt over his head so he can reach higher to your breasts. You don’t wear a bra when at home, so Bruce has easy access to them. He softly kisses your skin, avoiding the areas you want him most. You open your mouth to joke about it, but before you can say a word, his fingers pinch one of your nipples as he lays his head by the other. Bruce shoves your shirt to your shoulders, resuming his previous position of pressing his cheek to your left breast and toying with the right one with his hand. With a slight movement of his head, Bruce is now suckling your unoccupied bud. Your hips buck into his stomach, and you feel his length growing hard against your leg. Bruce gazes up at you through his lashes, his eyes a little darker than before. Your hand finds its way to his hair, fingers tangling themselves in it. 

Bruce tweaks your nipple with his teeth as he rolls the other with his fingers, making electricity jolt through you. A gasp leaves your lips at the sensation, your grip on Bruce’s hair tightening briefly. He leaves open-mouthed kisses along your breasts before moving down your sternum and stomach, toying with the hem of your sweatpants. Bruce glances up at you to ask for permission, and you nod.

“You can touch me.”

Bruce pulls your sweatpants down, and you kick them off the rest of the way. He bites and licks the skin of your thighs before cupping your clothed heat with his mouth. Bruce flattens his tongue against you, dragging it upward against the cotton material of your underwear. You whine at the contact, wanting something a little more direct. With your hands still in Bruce’s hair, you remove them, moving them to pull down the barrier between you and Bruce’s mouth. He helps you with a knowing smirk. He softly kisses your clit before letting his tongue delve into your wetness, a sharp inhale through your nose letting him know it feels good. You would be lying if you had said you hadn’t thought of this exact moment before. Bruce steadies your hips with his hands, his fingers digging into your flesh. When the tip of his tongue comes in contact with your bundle of sensitive nerves, you attempt to buck your hips up to no avail. Bruce is incredibly strong, so you had no chance of moving. But he begins to guide your hips up and down, making you ride his tongue on his own accord. You move with what he’ll allow along with his guidance, and pleasure flowers through you. Bruce coaxes a finger into you, the feeling of him exploring you with it making you moan loudly. When he finds your spot, he adds another finger to circle it slowly. You gasp, biting your lip to keep from moaning too loud again.

“No,” Bruce shakes head, pulling away from you and stopping his movements, “I want to hear you, sweetheart.”

“Fine,” you exhale, hands clutching the bed sheets.

Bruce resumes pumping his fingers in and out of you while pressing his fingertips to your spot every now and then, eliciting noises from you that you’ve never let out with anyone else. He laps at your clit simultaneously, and he allows you to move your hips freely as he spreads your legs with his free hand. You feel yourself becoming lost in pleasure, your head cloudy and letting out noises without a second thought. Bruce feels you tightening around his fingers, signaling you’re close to release. So, he pulls away from you and sits up on his knees. You wriggle at the loss of his fingers, but he quickly replaces them with the tip of his hardened length. Bruce holds you still with one hand as he drags himself up and down your weeping cunt with the other. You pull your shirt the rest of the way off as Bruce slowly pushes himself inside you. Giving you a moment to adjust, he peels off his own shirt and tosses it before continuing to thrust slowly into you. 

When he’s entirely inside, he notices you taking deep breaths, “All good?”

“Yeah,” you nod, “It’s just been a while.”

That and Bruce is well endowed, so you have to relax fully to take him comfortably. When you finally feel comfortable enough to move, you give your hips an experimental roll. Both you and Bruce groan at the feeling, to which Bruce pulls out a little before pushing back in. 

“Don’t be shy, Bruce,” you joke, “You can go faster.”

“Be careful what you wish for,” Bruce smiles deviously down at you.

He picks your legs up and lays them on his shoulders before he begins to pound into you, leaving you gasping for air. You grip Bruce’s biceps, his rhythm is merciless as your bed frame squeaks underneath you. He moves you upward to the pillows so you can rest your head on them and so he can grip the headboard for leverage. Bruce’s hips snap forward rapidly, just as he assured, and he has to put a pillow above your head so it doesn’t slam into the bedframe. Your moans are incoherent at this point, and your eyes are wound shut.

“Look at me, babe,” Bruce says, moving a hand from your thigh to your cheek, bringing you out of your fog.

You open your eyes to gaze into his, Bruce pressing his chest to yours and fucking you at a new angle as he puts his forehead against yours. You gasp and pant into each other’s mouth before finally embracing in a heated kiss. Deciding to switch up the angle, Bruce removes your legs from his shoulders and spreads them apart as far as they go. You howl into the kiss as Bruce hits that spot inside you, driving you crazy. 

“Right there, Bruce,” you manage to stutter, “Right there!”

He hooks his arms under your knees, slamming you against him even harder than before. Bruce presses a thumb to your clit, rubbing tight circles into it. You curse, no longer caring if your neighbors hear you or your bed slamming into the wall. Heat builds up in your belly as you struggle to maintain eye contact with Bruce, stars flooding your vision. He hits that spot inside you harder than before, sending you over the edge in a snap. Your walls clench around Bruce, causing his orgasm to unfold shortly behind yours. The feeling of him emptying into you coaxes your release to last longer, and Bruce not letting up on your clit adds to the overstimulation. You cry out as another orgasm washes over you, and Bruce hisses from his own overstimulation. He curses under his breath as he pulls out of you, hurrying to your closet for a towel. Bruce cleans the two of you up as you work to bring yourself back to Earth. 

“That,” you say, Bruce hovering over you, “was amazing.”

“You’re amazing,” Bruce says, and you both laugh at his cheesiness.

Rolling over to lie next to you, Bruce pulls the blanket on his side of the bed over him, and you do the same. But the ownership of blankets doesn’t last long as you cuddle. You manage to pull Bruce’s blanket over to your side, much like you used to when you were both younger. You had sleepovers a lot, and you’d always somehow end up stealing Bruce’s blanket.

“How do you always end up under my blanket?” Bruce sighs.

You peek at him, opening your closed eyes momentarily before shrugging, stifling a laugh. Bruce pulls your head into his neck before kissing your hair, allowing you to doze off. Even if the things he saw during the toxin’s hold on him were disturbing, at least it allowed him to see things more clearly and find his way to you. 

[wonbloom]

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐔𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐝

- 𝐚𝐧 𝐄𝐧𝐡𝐲𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

in this series i bring you 7 stories about 7 members based on my favourite romance tropes!!

each fic will be posted weekly so stay tuned, alternatively, feel free to let me know if you'd like to be added to my taglist (comment or send me an ask!) so you can be first to know when i post a fic!

all links, warnings and post dates will be updated accordingly !!

───── ⑅ ♡ ⑅ ─────

knight in shining armour (damsel in distress)

pairing: lee heeseung x fem!reader

summary: it was pretty tiring being the townspeople’s favourite damsel in distress, and you were running out of handkerchiefs to give as thanks to the brave men that make their way through your humble town. good job a particularly handsome knight was willing to accept another form of payback as a token of your affection.

warnings: 18+

posted: tbd

───── ⑅ ♡ ⑅ ─────

all i really want (office romance)

pairing: park jongseong x fem!reader

summary: your boss was an ass, making you stay late every night when she leaves at 5 on the dot. it seemed your only company was gus the janitor until the fateful night when you bumped into jay from the floor below. maybe your long nights didn’t need to be so lonely.

warnings: 18+

posted: tbd

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long way to go (sports romance)

pairing: jake sim x fem!reader

summary: forgetting to sign up for extra credit courses was so insanely unlike you, but it happened. leaving you here; assistant manager of your college's star soccer team. enter jake sim. captain, star player, and resident pain in your ass. good thing he hates you too, so you think, anyway.

warnings: 18+

posted: tbd

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heart out (roommates to lovers)

pairing: park sunghoon x fem!reader

summary: when the apartment of your dreams comes with a slight hitch - the roommate from hell - there's only one way to solve the problem. a five step fool proof plan to exact revenge and drive him out. there's no way it could backfire.

warnings: 18+

posted: tbd

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sugar mouse (small town romance)

pairing: kim sunoo x fem!reader

summary: going to stay with your great aunt in the middle of nowhere didn't exactly sound like the most exhilarating use of your summer, but at least you could get some good time sunbathing in. and the cute boy who worked at your aunt's favourite bakery was easy enough on the eyes. hopefully he tastes just as sweet.

warnings: 18+

posted: tbd

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take me to your best friend's house (boy next door)

pairing: yang jungwon x fem!reader

summary: yang jungwon has been your best friend since you were 8 years old. now, 10 years down the line and you're still inseparable. as the end of senior year approaches, both you and jungwon have some decisions to make, regarding your future and the feelings that threaten to change your relationship forever.

warnings: 18+

posted: tbd

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she looks so perfect (opposites attract)

pairing: nishimura riki x fem!reader

summary: from an outsider's perspective, it would be hard to understand how a goody two shoes like you ended up with someone like riki, but it just worked. when you accidentally overhear something you weren't meant to, it sparks an idea, maybe the good girl should go bad after all.

warnings: 18+

posted: tbd

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a/n: ahhh!! my first series on here!! i hope you’re excited ro read :))) this is my valentines gift to u all xoxo

let me know which fic ur most excited for! i’ll let you guys decide which order i post in :3

tysm for reading!!

- lux xoxo

[g1deonthefirst]

honestly i don't think we give pyrrha enough credit because if i had spent the better part of the past ten thousand years trapped in the back of a brain, from which i was only able to break free because of the death of my best friend and probable lover, and then i ended up living in a shitty apartment on what is widely agreed to be the universe's worst planet while grieving the only people i cared about, and i was working in a soul-sucking construction job spending most of my time just trying to keep my coworkers from murdering each other — if, after all that, my twenty year old roommate told me i couldn't spend the money i made on cigarettes to soothe my ten thousand year old nicotine addiction, that would probably break me.

[scarluna]

Y/N, a gifted but self-conscious graphic designer, lands a job at Jeon Enterprises, a powerhouse ruled by the sharp and controlling Jeon Jungkook, whose ruthless perfectionism hides behind an enigmatic façade. Though admired and feared, Jungkook targets Y/N’s insecurities, using them as weapons against her.

Beside him stands his best friend, Min Yoongi, a sly and unpredictable force whose hot-and-cold behavior leaves Y/N questioning his motives.

Tangled in a web of cold authority, teasing games, and unspoken desire, Y/N must navigate a dangerous love triangle where ambition and emotion collide, threatening to unravel everything.

Pairing: Jungkook x Fem!Reader x Min Yoongi

Genre/Tags: plus sized reader, enemies to lovers, ceo!jungkook, graphic designer!reader, mafia!yoongi

Link to the other chapters: ACT I / ACT II / ACT III / ACT IV / ACT V / ACT VII / ACT VIII

Chapters: 6 / ?

Chapter Warnings: mature language, bullying, slow burn, enemies to lovers, love triangle

ACT VI.

The crisp winter air nipped at my cheeks as I stepped out of my apartment building, my scarf wrapped snugly around my neck. It was a lazy Sunday, the kind of day where I would’ve normally curled up with a book or caught up on my favorite shows. But today was different. Today, Taehyung had insisted we spend the day together—no work, no drama, just us.

As I adjusted my coat, making sure not to freeze despite the sun outside, I saw him across the street, standing next to a streetlamp. He looked effortlessly handsome in a cream-colored sweater under a beige trench coat, his dark hair slightly tousled by the breeze. His eyes lit up the moment he spotted me, and I couldn’t help but smile back.

In his hands was a small bouquet of flowers—white daisies and pink tulips, delicate and cheerful.

“For you,” he said as I approached, holding the bouquet out with a boyish grin.

“Flowers?” I teased, taking them gently. “Are you trying to win me over?”

He smirked. “Maybe. Is it working?”

I laughed, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “It’s a good start.”

We began walking down the quiet street, the crunch of our shoes against the pavement mingling with the sounds of the city waking up. A few blocks away, we found our favorite little café, the one with the cozy atmosphere and the best hot chocolate in town.

Taehyung held the door open for me, and we were greeted by the familiar scent of cocoa and cinnamon. The café was warm, a stark contrast to the chilly weather outside.

“Two hot chocolates?” the barista asked with a knowing smile as we approached the counter.

“You know us too well,” Taehyung replied with a soft chuckle. We have been visiting this coffee shop back when we were only college students. This place held memories of us. And I cherished it a lot.

Once our drinks were ready—complete with whipped cream and a sprinkle of cocoa powder—we found a corner booth by the window. The steam from the mugs curled into the air as we sat across from each other, the sunlight streaming in and casting a golden glow over his face.

“So,” he began, his tone playful. “What’s on your mind, Miss Y/N? Besides how devastatingly handsome I am.”

I rolled my eyes, taking a sip of my hot chocolate to hide my smile. “I was actually thinking about how certain someone managed to spill wine on my dress last night.”

His expression softened, the teasing replaced by genuine concern. “You handled that so well. I would’ve lost my cool.”

“Well,” I said, swirling my spoon in the whipped cream, “I guess I’ve had enough practice dealing with people like Tina.”

He reached across the table, resting his hand over mine. “You don’t give yourself enough credit. You are more badass than you think.”

His words warmed me more than the hot chocolate ever could. "I honestly don't know what I will do without you, Tae. I am grateful to have you in my life." I spoke out, it was the truth, I never expressed my gratefulness but now I did. I wanted him to know that I cherished him. Tae's cheeks flushed.  "I will always be here, Y/N. No matter what." My heart skept a beat. I grinned at him and brough the glass toward my lips as if to hide my blush. "So, what's the deal with your Boss tho?There seems to be tension between him and you. I didn't like how he stole you away from me last night..." I froze. My smile faltered and I cleared my throat. "He is just . . . a bit controlling, that's all." "Controlling? He is possessive of you, Y/N. His eyes are feral when he is around you." My frown deepened and I shook my head. "That's not true. I mean, he did made fun of me and my way of work but that's all. He thrives for perfection." Tae's eyes darkened, he stared at me for a minute longer, before a deep sigh escaped his lips. "I just want you to be self-aware of your surroundings, Y/N." Maybe he was right. Maybe I was too caught up between him and Yoongi to even notice what was happening. I couldn't keep this up. My feelings didn't matter, all that matters is my job and how I do it. An awkward silence stretched between me and Taehyung. We were both lost in thoughts now. Gosh, he shouldn't have mentioned Jungkook. Because with Jungkook there is also Yoongi.

After we finished our drinks, we spent the rest of the day wandering around the city. Taehyung led me to a park we used to visit back when we were teenagers. The trees were bare, their branches dusted with the season’s first frost, but the air was alive with laughter from families and couples enjoying the day.

We stopped by the frozen pond, watching as kids skated in clumsy circles. Taehyung nudged me gently with his shoulder.

“Remember the time I tried to teach you how to skate?” he asked, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

I groaned, covering my face with my hands. “Don’t remind me. I think I fell a dozen times..”

“And I caught you every single time,” he added, a proud smile on his face. He was the cutest with how he smiled, it was like stars appeared in his eyes everytime he did.

We walked on, stopping occasionally to take in the sights or to snap a picture. At one point, we found a street musician playing a soulful tune on his guitar. Taehyung pulled me to the side, bowing dramatically.

“May I have this dance?” he asked, his voice dripping with charm.

“Here? In the middle of the park?” I asked, laughing nervously.

“Why not?” He took my hand before I could protest, spinning me gently in a slow circle.

People passed by, some smiling at the sight of us, but I didn’t care. For a moment, it felt like the rest of the world had disappeared, leaving just the two of us.

By the time the sun began to set, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink, we found ourselves sitting on a bench overlooking the river. Taehyung wrapped his scarf around my neck, ignoring my protests that I was fine.

“I don’t want you catching a cold,” he said, tucking the ends neatly under my coat.

“Thanks, Dad,” I teased, but the truth was, I didn’t mind. He was caring by nature, and maybe to be cared for felt good...

As the day came to an end, I realized how much I needed this. No work, no stress, no complicated feelings about Yoongi or Jungkook—just a simple, perfect day with Taehyung..

“Still cold?” he asked, noticing my movements.

“Not really,” I admitted. “This scarf is ridiculously warm.”

He smiled, his hands shoved casually into his pockets. “It’s because it’s mine. Everything I own is top-tier.”

I nudged him with my elbow, grinning. “Oh, please. That’s the most Taehyung thing you’ve said all day.”

He laughed, the sound light and easy, and I couldn’t help but smile wider. There was something about him—his energy, his warmth—that made everything feel okay, even after the chaos of last night.

As we turned the corner onto my street, he slowed his pace.

“You know,” he began, his tone softer now, “I really enjoyed today. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you so relaxed.”

“I guess I needed it,” I replied, glancing up at him. “Just a perfect day with an old friend.”

“Old friend?” he repeated, pretending to be offended. “I’ll have you know I’m as youthful as ever. If anything, I’ve only gotten better with age.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped me. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you love it,” he shot back, his grin widening.

I didn’t respond, but the way my cheeks warmed betrayed me.

When we reached my building, we stopped just outside the entrance. The soft hum of the city buzzed in the background as we turned to face each other.

“Well,” I said, clutching the bouquet of flowers he’d given me earlier, “thanks for today. Really.”

“Anytime,” he said, his voice gentle. “I mean it. If you ever need to escape, just call me. I’ll be there.”

For a moment, neither of us said anything. The streetlight above cast a faint glow on his face, highlighting the sincerity in his eyes.

“You’re a good friend, Tae,” I said softly, though the words felt heavier than they should have.

His smile faltered for a fraction of a second, but he recovered quickly, his expression warm and playful again. “Only a good friend? I’ll have to work on upgrading that title.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Goodnight, Taehyung.”

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he replied, his voice low and filled with something unspoken.

I turned to unlock the door to my building, but before I could step inside, I heard him call my name.

I turned back, and there he was, standing a few feet away, his hands still in his pockets. “Don’t forget to put those flowers in water,” he said, a lopsided grin on his face.

“I won’t,” I promised, holding up the bouquet.

And with that, he turned and walked away, his figure disappearing into the quiet night. I stood there for a moment, watching him go, the warmth from the day still lingering in my chest.

As I finally stepped inside, I couldn’t help but smile to myself. Today had been perfect—simple, sweet, and exactly what I needed. 

-

The scene outside the company building was unlike anything I’d ever seen. Reporters shouted over each other, their cameras flashing relentlessly as they aimed toward the entrance. Police cars were parked haphazardly along the curb, their lights casting ominous blue and red hues against the surrounding buildings.

My heart sank as I tried to push through the crowd, clutching my bag tightly. The questions flying through the air were disjointed but enough to spark unease in my chest.

“Is it true Jeon Enterprises is under investigation?” “CEO Jeon Jungkook has yet to make a statement—”"Is there a suspect already?"

I forced myself to block out the noise, stepping up to the security guard at the entrance. My heart was thumping fast and loud in my chest. This entire atmosphere looked like a crime series. I had no idea what happened but whatever it was, it was serious.

“I work here,” I said, fumbling with my badge. My hands shook slightly, and I hated how obvious it was.

The tall bulky guard dressed in a black suit squinted at my badge, then gave me a short nod. “Go ahead.”

His words did nothing to calm me as I entered the building, the usual hum of productivity replaced by frantic whispers and hurried footsteps. Police officers roamed the lobby, speaking into radios, while employees stood in clusters, their faces pale with shock.

What on earth happened?

I hurried toward the elevator, my pulse quickening with every step. The ride up to our floor felt like an eternity, and when the doors opened, the sight made my stomach churn.

Officers were everywhere, combing through desks and confiscating files. The normally pristine office space was in disarray, papers scattered and voices raised in hushed tones.

“Y/N!”

I turned to see Rya approaching me, her expression frantic. I could see the paleness on her face, she was definitely shocked and panicked.

“What’s going on?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Rya glanced around before pulling me aside, her grip on my arm tight. “Tina... she’s dead.”

I froze, her words not registering at first. “What?”

“They found her body last night at her apartment,” Rya said, her voice shaking. “And the last person who was seen with her was Jungkook. Police came and took him with them twenty minutes ago. They treated him like a suspect!”

The air seemed to leave my lungs. My mind raced as I tried to piece together what she was saying. Tina? Dead? And Jungkook?

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “That doesn’t make any sense. Jungkook wouldn’t—”

“I know,” Rya interrupted, her voice urgent. “But the police don’t care about what we think. And the media is having a field day with it. They are also got a search order to see if they can find any clue on what happened, Jungkook's office is a raided mess. Cops took everything.”

I glanced around the chaotic office, my chest tightening. Jungkook wasn’t just my boss; he was someone I had come to respect despite our rocky start. The idea that he could be involved in something like this was incomprehensible.

Rya’s hand hovered over the remote as the reporter’s voice filled the tense air of the office.

“Breaking news this morning,” the reporter began, her tone grave. “Authorities have confirmed the discovery of a deceased individual late last night at their apartment. The victim has been identified as an employee of Jeon Enterprises and was last seen attending the high-profile masquerade ball hosted by MNT Media just days ago.”

Rya and I exchanged a glance, our breaths caught in the shared silence. The weight of the words was crushing, and my mind raced to process what I already knew.

“Last seen at the ball...” Rya whispered, her voice barely audible, but I caught the way her hands trembled as she gripped the remote.

I swallowed hard, fighting the knot forming in my throat. 

The broadcast continued, showing images of the ball—the glittering chandeliers, the elegant gowns, the masked faces. And then it switched to a live shot of an apartment building cordoned off with police tape, officers moving in and out under the glow of harsh floodlights.

“Sources close to the investigation report signs of foul play, though no official suspects have been named. Jeon Jungkook, CEO of Jeon Enterprises, has been confirmed to have been the last one who saw the victim alive, and authorities have expressed interest in speaking with him.”

“Damn it,” Rya muttered, her voice cracking slightly. 

I didn’t answer, the words sticking to the back of my throat. We both knew it was. There was no need to say it out loud.

Instead, I fixed my gaze on the screen, where the reporter was now recounting snippets. “The victim was known to be a driven and outspoken employee, with significant professional ties and ongoing disputes that may have played a role in the events leading up to their death.”

"Y/N... this is bad. Really bad. The board is already panicking, and if this gets any worse, it could take down the entire company.”

I felt like the floor was tilting beneath me, the weight of the situation pressing down on my shoulders.

“I need to find Yoongi,” I muttered, my voice steadier than I felt.

“Yoongi?” Rya frowned.

“He’ll know what to do,” I said, more to convince myself than her. “He always does.”

Without waiting for her response, I turned and started toward his office, my mind a whirlwind of fear, confusion, and determination. Whatever was happening, I needed answers—and fast.

His free hand clenched into a fist at his side. “I don’t care what strings you have to pull—just do it.”

He ended the call abruptly, exhaling sharply before he turned, noticing me standing hesitantly behind him. His expression softened slightly, though the strain in his features remained.

“It’s a mess,” he admitted, his tone heavy. “As you already know, Tina was found in her apartment late last night. She has been shot in the head.”

I swallowed hard, the reality of his words sinking in. Shot in the head? What kind of an animal would do that to her?! Surely, Tina was not one of the best people, she was selfish and her ego reached the skies, but not even once did I wish her death. “And Jungkook? Why are they linking him to this?”

Yoongi’s gaze flicked to the side, conflicted. “He was seen leaving her building around the time they estimate it happened. There’s footage from a security camera, but it doesn’t show much. Just him walking out.”

“That doesn’t mean he did anything,” I said quickly, feeling a surge of defensiveness I didn’t expect.

“I know,” Yoongi said, his voice firm. “But right now, appearances are everything. The media doesn’t care about proof—they just want a story. And Tina being...” He hesitated, his expression darkening. “Well, let’s just say she didn’t make herself any friends around here. People are talking, and not in Jungkook’s favor.”

I was trying to process everything. Tina’s death. Jungkook being questioned. The chaos in the office. It felt like the ground beneath me was shifting, and I couldn’t find my footing.

“Do you think he did it?” I asked quietly, almost afraid of his answer.

Yoongi met my gaze, his dark eyes steady. “No,” he said firmly. “I’ve known Jungkook long enough to say that he’s not capable of something like this. But whether he did or didn’t isn’t the issue right now. It’s about what people believe.”

The weight of his words settled heavily in my chest.

“What do we do?” I asked, desperate for some kind of direction.

Yoongi sighed, “For now, we wait. The lawyers are working on getting him released, but until then, we need to keep things from spiraling. The company is already under enough scrutiny.”

I nodded, though it felt like a hollow gesture. Waiting wasn’t exactly my strong suit, especially not when someone I cared about was at the center of it all.

“What about us?” I asked hesitantly. “What can I do to help?”

Yoongi’s gaze softened, and for a moment, the weight he carried seemed to lift just slightly.

“Just stay out of the crossfire, Y/N,” he said gently. “You’ve already been through enough. Let me handle this.”

I bristled slightly at his words, not because I didn’t appreciate his concern, but because I hated feeling powerless.

“Yoongi,” I said firmly, standing. “I’m not going to sit on the sidelines while everything falls apart. If there’s anything I can do—anything—just tell me.”

He studied me for a long moment, his expression unreadable, before he finally nodded.

After leaving Yoongi’s office, I couldn’t shake the weight pressing down on me. Tina’s death had sent shockwaves through the entire company, and though I’d never liked her—she’d been awful to me more times than I could count—this wasn’t what she deserved.

The thought of her lifeless and alone in her apartment was too much. No matter how cruel she’d been, she was still a person, someone with her own struggles and stories I’d never known. She was still someone's daughter, sister, cousin. . .

I needed to talk to someone.

I found Hoseok and Rya in the break room, sitting at one of the tables near the window. Both of them looked tense, their earlier easy smiles replaced with furrowed brows and quiet whispers.

“Hey,” I said softly as I approached. They looked up, and Rya immediately slid over to make room for me.

“Y/N,” Hoseok said, his tone heavy. “How are you holding up?”

I sat down, clasping my hands together to stop them from trembling. “I’m not sure,” I admitted. “This whole thing with Tina... it doesn’t feel real. I know we didn’t get along, but...” I trailed off, unsure how to put the jumble of emotions into words.

“She was a nightmare,” Rya said bluntly, though her voice lacked its usual bite. “But I never thought... this. I mean, she could be petty and cruel, but murder?”

Hoseok frowned, leaning forward. “Nobody deserves that,” he said quietly. “Not even Tina. She could be terrible, sure, but she was still a person.”

The room fell silent for a moment, the three of us lost in our own thoughts.

“I keep thinking about the last time I saw her,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “At the ball. She seemed so... smug. Like she was on top of the world. And now, she’s gone.”

Rya crossed her arms, looking conflicted. “Do you think someone here could’ve done it? I mean, everyone knew she had enemies, but this is... extreme.”

Hoseok shook his head. “I don’t want to believe it, but with the police here, searching the office...” He trailed off, his expression darkening. “It’s hard not to wonder.”

“And Jungkook?” Rya asked, looking at me. “Do you think he’s involved?”

“No,” I said firmly, surprising even myself with the conviction in my voice. “I don’t. He might be cold and distant sometimes, but he’s not a killer. He’s... he’s better than that.”

Hoseok and Rya exchanged a glance, but neither argued.

“What happens now?” Rya asked after a moment. “If Jungkook is being investigated, what does that mean for the company? For us?”

I shook my head, feeling the weight of uncertainty settle over me again. “I don’t know,” I admitted. “But I think we need to stick together. Now more than ever.”

They both nodded, and for the first time in a long while, I felt a glimmer of solidarity between us.

As the three of us sat there, piecing together what little we knew, I couldn’t help but feel that this was just the beginning of something much bigger—and much darker—than any of us could imagine.

-

The morning was gray and oppressive, the atmosphere at Jeon Enterprises thick with unease. I was called to help clear out Tina’s desk under police supervision, a task I didn’t relish but couldn’t refuse. The sight of her empty chair sent a chill through me. Tina had been vile, no doubt about it, but to think she was gone—and in such a horrific way—made my stomach turn.

The desk was surprisingly tidy for someone as chaotic as Tina. Neat stacks of papers, pristine stationery, and a drawer full of color-coded folders. Yet as I sifted through the surface level, something felt off. It was too perfect, almost staged.

A detective stood nearby, arms crossed as he observed. “Anything that seems unusual, set it aside,” he said flatly.

Unusual? Where did I even start? Tina herself was a cocktail of ambition and cruelty, a persona that could fill a thousand file folders with secrets. As I reached into the bottom drawer, my fingers brushed against something that didn’t feel like an office supply. It was wedged under a stack of legal pads—a worn, leather-bound journal.

I glanced at the detective, who was momentarily distracted by another officer. With a quick, furtive motion, I slipped the journal into my bag. I told myself I’d hand it over eventually, but something about it called to me. A gut feeling. Tina had gone out of her way to hide this. Why?

Once I got home that evening, I pulled the journal out and set it on my kitchen table. The leather was cracked and faded, the corners worn down like it had been carried around for years. When I opened it, the faint scent of Tina’s signature perfume wafted up, mingled with something darker—ink and secrecy.

The first few pages were mundane. Meeting notes, to-do lists, sketches of presentation layouts. But as I flipped further, the tone shifted. The handwriting became erratic, the words slanting across the page with a kind of manic energy.

November 3: Another meeting with K. Promises, promises. Does he think I’m stupid? I’ll take what’s mine before he screws me over.

November 12: Y/N is such a naive little thing. Too easy to push around. If only she knew how far out of her depth she is. Pathetic.

I recoiled at the venom in her words. My name was scrawled there like a curse, surrounded by complaints about nearly everyone in the office. Tina hadn’t just disliked people—she’d despised them.

And then there were the cryptic entries:

December 1: The deal is in place. If K tries to back out, he’ll regret it.

December 15: I’m not playing games anymore. If they think they can silence me, they’re dead wrong.

The entries stopped abruptly a week before her death. My fingers trembled as I turned the pages, my heart pounding in my chest. Who was “K”? What deal? And what had Tina meant by “silence”?

Before I could dive further, my phone buzzed. The name on the screen made my blood run cold: Richard Delgrassi. My father’s old associate. 

“Mr. Delgrassi? How did you find my number?” I said cautiously, picking up the call.

“I called your father, wanted to check up on you.” his voice was smooth, but there was an edge to it, like a blade sheathed in silk. “Are you okay? I heard about your co-worker Tina.”

I swallowed thickly, deep sigh escaped my lips. "I am fine, sir. It just . . . shocked us all."

“I am really sorry to hear that, if you need anything, please let me know. If you want to leave the company and start somewhere fresh, I will help you out." Leave. Why would I want to leave? I hummed. "Of course, sir, I will let you know." I heard him shuffle on the other side of the line. "What about Jungkook, I heard he is at the police station for questioning." I started pacing back and forth, "Well, right now we don't have much information on what happens next, but hopefully police would release him soon." "I hope so too." he spoke but something in his voice didn't feel sincere. "Alright, I just wanted to check up on you. Know you have someone you can count on." "Thank you, sir..."

The line went dead before I could ask anything else. I stared at the phone, my heart hammering in my chest. 

I glanced back at the journal, its leather cover now looking more sinister than mysterious. Whatever Tina had been involved in, it wasn’t just office politics. It was something far darker, and I was smack in the middle of it.

-

I could feel my heart pounding in my chest as I stood in front of the police station, staring at the cold, gray walls. It didn’t feel real—none of it did. My mind kept replaying the moment I heard the news: Tina, my manager, was dead. Murdered. And Jungkook, the CEO of the company I’d worked for, was the prime suspect unofficially.

The shock of it had hit me hard. Tina’s death had left a void in our office, and the fact that Jungkook, the man I already thought I knew so well, was now behind bars... it shattered everything.

I took a deep breath before walking through the sterile halls of the station. The fluorescent lights buzzed above me, making the air feel thick and oppressive. I passed the front desk, where the officers barely acknowledged me and suddenly bumped into someone.

The impact jolted me slightly, and I looked up to find Yoongi standing there, his dark eyes sharp and unreadable as ever. He sighed heavily, as if seeing me here was the last thing he needed.

“What the hell are you doing here, Y/N?” he asked, his tone low but laced with irritation.

I straightened my posture, refusing to let him intimidate me. “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m here to see Jungkook.”

Yoongi crossed his arms, his expression hardening. “You shouldn’t be here. This isn’t your fight, and it’s definitely not safe.”

“Not safe?” I scoffed, keeping my voice low so the officers milling about wouldn’t overhear. “I work at the same company, Yoongi. Tina was my manager too, in case you forgot. This affects all of us, not just you.”

He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. “That’s exactly why you need to stay out of it. Let the police handle this. Do you even realize how messy this is going to get?”

I glared at him, my frustration boiling over. “Messy or not, I have a right to know what’s going on. Jungkook isn’t just some random CEO. He’s—”

“He’s what?” Yoongi cut in, his tone sharp. “Your boss? Your friend? Someone you think you can trust? Newsflash, Y/N: trust doesn’t mean a damn thing right now.”

I felt the sting of his words but refused to back down. “You’re unbelievable,” I shot back. “You act like you’re the only one allowed to care about what’s happening.”

Yoongi ran a hand through his messy long hair, his jaw tight. I could notice he has been sleep deprived too, the dark circles under his eyes screamed tiredness. “I care because I know what’s at stake. And you showing up here, trying to play detective, is only going to make things worse.”

I stepped closer, narrowing the gap between us. “Then why are you here, Yoongi? If you think it’s so dangerous, why aren’t you staying out of it?”

His lips pressed into a thin line, and for a moment, he didn’t answer. I saw his eyes darken and he took a sharp breath through his nose, hands now resting on his hips. "Fucking hell, why are you so stubborn?" "Maybe I am good at annoying the hell out of you." His eyes narrowed but he didn't say anything. There was a silence stretching between us before he finally turned around and headed down the hallway.

“Fine,” he muttered over his shoulder. “If you’re so hell-bent on getting involved, follow me. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

We made our way to the interrogation room, where Jungkook was being held. My heart felt like it was lodged in my throat as we approached the small, glass-walled room. Jungkook sat inside, his hands folded on the metal table in front of him. He looked tired, his usually sharp features drawn and pale.

The officer standing outside the door nodded at Yoongi, allowing us in. I hesitated for a moment before stepping inside, the air thick with tension.

Jungkook glanced up, his dark eyes meeting mine briefly before shifting to Yoongi.

“Didn’t expect visitors,” he said, his voice low and rough.

Yoongi pulled out a chair and sat down, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp. “We’re not here to chat. What’s going on, Jungkook?”

Jungkook leaned back in his chair, his gaze flickering between the two of us. “You tell me. One minute, I’m at the office; the next, I’m hauled in here like a criminal.”

“Did you know Tina was dead?” I asked, my voice trembling slightly despite my best efforts to stay composed.

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, he didn’t answer. “I didn’t kill her, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Then why are you here?” Yoongi pressed, his tone firm.

Jungkook let out a bitter laugh. “Because someone saw me with her at the ball, and apparently, that’s enough to make me the prime suspect. Never mind that half the company was there."

I glanced at Yoongi, who didn’t break his stare. “And what about Tina? Did she say anything to you that night? Act strange? Mention something... off?”

Jungkook’s expression darkened. “She didn’t say much of anything to me. She was too busy playing her games, like always. I told everything to the police but they still keep me in this godforsaken hole.”

“Games?” I asked, leaning forward.

“Y/N, you know fully well how she was,” Jungkook said, his voice bitter. “Testing people's limits, making sure everyone knew she had the upper hand. But I didn’t play along, and maybe that pissed her off. Who knows?”

Yoongi tapped his fingers against the table, his gaze never leaving Jungkook. “You need to give us more than that. If you want us to help you, we need something concrete.”

Jungkook’s eyebrow raised, he was shifting his eyes from me and Yoongi. I looked away, avoiding his gaze. “Help me? Since when are you two playing detectives?”

I rolled my eyes. "We are trying to help you out." I snapped and Jungkook shifted in his seat, letting out a deep sigh of defeat.

The tension in the room thickened, and I felt a pang of guilt watching Jungkook sitting there, defiant but vulnerable. I glanced at Yoongi, his steely demeanor unwavering as he leaned back in his chair, arms crossed.

"Do you know for how long you will be captive here?" I finally asked. Jungkook shrugged. "No idea, until they find an evidence that the killer was not me." "What happens to the comapny now?" I pressed, "is it gonna shut down?" "I will take over." Yoongi muttered, "for the time being, until Jungkook gets released." I frowned glancing at Jungkook who hummed, I guess they managed to talk this through.  "Fine, we will keep digging and see what we will find."  "We?" My Boss frowned, "Y/N, I don't want you to get involved in this." "See?!Told her the same thingg, she doesn't listen." "Stop blabbing about the same things, I want in and I want to help. You two, adult men, act like kids. Jungkook, your situation here is not colorful at all. The quicker we get you out, the quick it would be your name to be cleared in front of the media." -

The sharp chill of the late evening air greeted us as we stepped out of the police station. I pulled my coat tighter around myself, my mind still racing with everything that had just transpired. Jungkook’s face, a mixture of frustration and vulnerability, was etched in my memory.

“I’ll call a cab,” I muttered, fishing my phone out of my bag.

Yoongi raised an eyebrow, stepping toward the parking lot. “Don’t bother. I’ll drive you.”

I stopped mid-dial and turned to him. “No offense, but I don’t think that’s a great idea.”

His expression didn’t change, but there was an edge of impatience in his voice. “Why? Because I’m not the most charming chauffeur? Or are you still mad at me for that club thing-y?”

“Neither,” I said quickly, my tone defensive. “It’s just... I don’t need you to babysit me, Yoongi. I can take care of myself.”

“Clearly,” he said dryly, gesturing to my phone. “And you’ll do that by waiting alone outside a police station at night for a cab? Genius plan.”

I opened my mouth to argue but stopped when I realized how ridiculous it would sound. With a resigned sigh, I slid my phone back into my bag. “Fine. But no commentary while you drive.”

“Deal,” he said with a small smirk, leading the way to his car.

The ride started in silence, the hum of the engine the only sound between us. Yoongi’s driving was calm and efficient, and for some reason, it annoyed me that he didn’t seem as rattled by everything as I was.

“Yesterday,” I began, breaking the silence, “when I was cleaning out Tina’s desk... I found something.”

He glanced at me briefly before returning his eyes to the road. “The journal.”

I blinked, surprised. “How did you—”

"Do you think I am that stupid?"  There was silence, he narrowed his eyes, "don't even answer this, Y/N." I chuckled at that and shrugged my shoulders. "I saw you take a suspicious looking book off Tina's desk without the police looking so..." "I figured that it's better to find who did it first with a solid evidence, before turning it to the police." I hesitated but continued, “It’s... disturbing. Tina wrote about people she hated—colleagues, clients, even... me.”

Yoongi didn’t react visibly, but I caught his fingers tightening slightly on the steering wheel.

“She was ruthless,” I continued. “Manipulating people, sabotaging careers—it’s all in there. And then there are these cryptic entries about a ‘deal.’ She doesn’t say who it was with, but it’s obvious it was risky. She mentioned being scared, like she knew it might backfire.”

Yoongi’s jaw clenched. “And now she’s dead.”

I swallowed hard, the reality of it hitting me again. “Yeah. And I don’t think it’s a coincidence. Someone she crossed or someone involved in that deal... they might have wanted her gone.”

“You said the police don’t know about it yet?” he asked, his voice tense.

“No,” I admitted. “I didn’t trust them to handle it the right way, especially with the way they’re already treating Jungkook.”

“Smart,” Yoongi said, nodding approvingly. “But if that journal is as explosive as you say, keeping it quiet might put you in danger.”

I bit my lip, anxiety bubbling in my chest. “I know. But what choice do I have? If it can help clear Jungkook’s name, I can’t just ignore it.”

Yoongi pulled into a quieter street, the streetlights casting long shadows over the car. He turned to me, his dark eyes serious. “You’re not doing this alone, Y/N. Whatever’s in that journal, we’re going to figure it out together.”

For a moment, his words surprised me. Despite his often aloof demeanor, there was an unexpected warmth in his voice.

“Thank you,” I said quietly, meaning it.

He nodded once and turned his attention back to the road, the rest of the drive passing in contemplative silence.

When we finally reached my place, he parked at the curb and leaned back in his seat. “Keep the journal close. Don’t let anyone else see it for now.”

“I won’t,” I assured him, opening the door.

As I stepped out, he called after me, “And Y/N?”

I paused, turning back.

“Be careful,” he said, his expression unreadable in the dim light.

I nodded, clutching my bag tightly as I headed up to my apartment, the weight of the journal—and everything it represented—feeling heavier than ever.

[sweetismyaddiction]

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Fic masterlist | Masterlist

SUCROSE

Paring: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: They live in the same building, in the same corridor, just in front of one another… which helps the friendship but couldn't stop Dr. Reid from falling in love

Word account: 1199

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, friends to lovers

A/N: English is not my first language. Reblog, like, and comment. I am accepting suggestions for the next parts (should I already tell about the nicknames?). Please be nice. The Gif is not mine. Credits to the oner

Chapter 1: Derek Morgan, next door

Y/N’s Point of View

The water ran warm against my skin, a relaxing shower was all I needed after one very busy day serving and cleaning, which was not the worst part of the job, the worst part certainly was the clients themselves.

I had a playlist on to help me relax, thank god I had the day off and would go just to the night shift today, so it is a study and cleaning house day. But a noise interfire my peace day. Noises that come from outside.

In the corridor someone knocked on a door calling a name, Spencer’s name… I finished my bath, put on my robe and with my towel dried a little of my hair just taking the exes of the water then brushing it. I came out just in time to see someone kicking down my door and entering my apartment holding a gun.

“What are you doing?”

The man is a black big man, he looks around and then to me still holding his gun pointing it to me.

“Where is Spencer Reid?”

“Who are you? What are you doing in my apartment? Why did you break my door?”

The last sentence was a scream, I can’t believe that a random dude broke my door for no reason. Can’t he see numbers?

“I am SSA Derek Morgan. Now, where is Reid?”

Morgan, the name rings in my ears. Spencer talked about him so many times. Apparently they are friends and coworkers, he can break Spencer’s door, not my door!

“Spencer’s door is the other one.” I point to the one just across the hall. “But relax big man, you do not need to break another door, I have the key, just wait in here and let me put some clothes on. Do not let anyone into my apartment. And put that gun down. Jesus”

Is this a thing? You have to be handsome to join the FBI? After putting a light dress and getting the key I get back to my living room, where that delight for tired eyes wait, he remains stoic, rigid, so tense. Should I be worried?

Knocking soft on the door and calling his name I warne Spencer that me and Morgan are coming in. No response, and the place is immaculate, everything in the right place.

“He must be asleep, he has been very tired those couple weeks. I am going to check his room.”

“By yourself?”

“Yeah. What? There is something I should know? He is contagious? A zombie? No? Ok, so I am totally fine going by myself.”

I walk slowly into his room, it is dark and quiet.

“Sugarpout? Spence?”

A peaceful breathing is heard when closer to the bed, he is involved in his blankets, is the sights of heaven, my heart gets warm seeing Spencer resting peacefully.

I sit at the bed and run my hand delicately in his soft hair before resetting it in his forehead checking his temperature, he moves a little moaning in protest.

“Shh… it's me Sugarpout, it is ok, you can keep sleeping”

Is a very quiet whisper as I place a tender kiss to his forehead leaving my boy there, his hand landing on top of mine making me smile, as quiet as I entered his bedroom is as I live.

Just at the room door, Derek looks at us, I just make a signal to him to keep quiet and we are back to Spencer’s living room.

“So… you seemed troubled. There is something I should know? Is something wrong with Spencer?”

“Why do you have his keys?”

“Cause I live just across the hall?”

Who does he think he is to interrogate me?

“Serious? That 's why? Common, hot stuff, Reid didn't make a move on that gorgeous woman? Man, he really doesn't have material… or does he?”

Flirtatious Morgan, Reid said he was just like that, all charming. Just bark, don’t bite. Well… I don’t think girls would mind if he bites them, I recognize good stuff when I see it.

“Changing subject that quickly? What are you avoiding agent?”

He just looked at me, no verbal answer, heavy shoulders unmatched with the flirt smile on his face… for a profiler he isn't that good in hiding emotions.

“Seriously” a puff of air came out of me. “Is everything okay with him?”

“Yes, Reid is fine. I… was just worried, we had a hard case and he wasn’t answering the phone…”

“I believe you”

“So… why the keys?”

“I live very close, we are friends and I am his food stealer”

 I blinked at the man with a dirty smile in my face mixed with my sweet traces.

“Food stealer?”

“He is out, I need something, I enter his apartment, I grab what I need, and then I come back to my place. Simple”

“Are you confessing a crime to an FBI agent?”

“A crime against another agent. And the other agent is very aware of what I do in his hose”

“Sorry about the door”

“It’s okay, it is nice to know Sugarpout have friend that really care about him”

It is impossible not to smile, I care so much about the genius boy. Knowing other people also care about him warmes my insides, it is really good to know he is well protected in the field.

“Sugarpout?”

My eyes almost fall out of my face. Shit! It is a private nickname.

“Don’t. Do not, ever, ever, talk about it to anyone, It is private, and especial, so please…”

“Okay, a secret. Someday you will tell me?”

“Maybe”

Derek Morgan lives his card with me. He waited about 30 minutes talking to me, but it seemed Spencer wouldn't wake up so soon, so Derek decided to go home, but promised to pay for my door. In my opinion it was the very minimum he could do, but them we have a talk, and his caring by Spencer was more than enough for me to forget about my broken door.

“Sugar?”

“Hey, Sugarpout, did you sleep well?”

I smile going to start to prepare something for him to eat.

“How long have I sleeped?”

“Something around two hours, you needed it. Morgan passed by, and broke my door”

“He what?”

“Broke my door. He was knocking, no one opened, then he kicked in. But surprise, surprise. It was the wrong door.”

“Sorry”

“It is not your fault, and he is going to pay for the repair, he was just worried because you didn’t answer the phone, and the last case was hard. I assume you basically blacked out from exhaustion so I decided to let you sleep.”

The toast is ready as is the coffee, the black coffee with tons of sugar.

“Here you go Sugarpout, you need to eat, and then you should call your people. I am not asking about the case. Just a reminder that you can talk about anything with me anytime, I am just one door away.”

I kiss his head, before going back to my place. I could tell he needed a moment alone to call his friends, especially Derek after what I vaguely told him.

---------------------------------------------------------

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Fic masterlist | Masterlist

[solarhysm]

DUST OF US - 08

> synopsis: 7 years ago Y/N broke Jungkook’s heart when she decided to end their relationship without an explanation. When they meet again at a friend's wedding, after almost a decade, Jungkook needs answers to move on.

> pairing: Jungkook x reader

> genre: romance, ex to lovers au

> warnings: explicit languages, violence, smut, cheating, nsfw, angst, +18 minors dni !!

> word count: 3.7k

*french writer, i apologize in advance for my awful english!

“That’s not how it works.” Jungkook laughs as you roll your eyes, sipping your wine.

He spends almost ten minutes explaining that his job is not being a hacker, but you don’t agree. Taking a sip of his wine too, his eyes trail appreciatively on your figure. It’s crazy for him how you carry yourself so gracefully. He fell in love with a girl who used to dress like a boy and liked to stay alone. Well, you still like to be on your own.

“It’s the same thing. You just won’t admit it,” you reply, and he shakes his head.

“It’s not,” he retorts, chuckling.

You give him a knowing look, and he rolls his eyes as he helps you up, pulling your coat over your shoulders. Jungkook really enjoyed your date, appreciating that while you’re more mature, you’re still the same in many ways. Stopping at the counter, he pays for both of you, even though you tried to give your credit card to the receptionist.

As you step out of the restaurant, you slip your hand into his. Jungkook smiles when you rest your head on his shoulder, his fingers intertwining with yours, affectionately caressing your skin with his thumb. It feels as though you were never separated.

“I’m a little tipsy,” you admit with a chuckle. “I didn’t feel it while we were sitting, but now…”

“Do you want to sit? Or a bottle of water?” he asks softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“Nah, I’m good,” you reply as you reach his car –well, Jimin’s one.

Jungkook opens the door for you, watching as you brush your bangs from your eyes and turn to him with a flush to your cheeks.

“What?” you ask.

“Can’t a man admire his date?” He rolls his eyes making you smile as you lean to boop his nose with yours making his lips stretch in a slight smile. “You’re going to make me fall in love again faster than I try to manage.” He teases.

Jungkook closes his eyes as you kiss him, his fingers gently caressing your thigh.

“I can’t help it if I’m irresistible,” you joke, and he shakes his head, amused.

“Alright, Miss. Time to get you to bed,” he laughs, stealing a last peck before closing your door and making his way to the driver’s seat.

On your way to your apartment, he gives a few glances toward you, admiring how the city lights cast a soft glow on your skin. And how your tongue slips on your lips to wet them, the gloss gone a long time ago.

“Do you want to stay?” you ask as you struggle with your heels, making him chuckle.

Jungkook helps you sit on the steps of your apartment and kneels to untie your shoes. He can feel your eyes burning into his skin, and he has to focus on untying the second heel to stop himself from losing control.

“If you’re okay with having me,” he replies, busying his hands to keep his thoughts at bay.

Every inch of your skin is tempting, and he takes his time, relishing it as he pulls off the second heel.

“Kook.” You call him and he hums softly, lifting his gaze to meet yours. “Stay with me tonight.” You whisper and he freezes, gulping hard.

His eyes fall to the strap of your dress that’s slipped down your shoulder, and it takes every ounce of self-control not to kiss you right then.

“Are you sure?” he asks, feeling his last bit of resistance crumble away.

You tilt your head, leaning closer to nuzzle your nose against his. “I want you here with me,” you murmur, the final blow to his self-control.

You’re like a siren calling him, and all he wants is to drown in you. Jungkook closes the distance between your lips, his hand slipping behind your neck to pull you closer. You moan softly, arms wrapping around his shoulders, and he’s on top of you as your leg hitches to his waist. His other hand traces the skin of your thigh, his lips trailing kisses down your neck.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Jungkook murmurs, his voice husky. “If you don’t stop me now…”

“Don’t stop,” you reply immediately, and he groans, pulling back slightly.

His breath is heavy as he looks at you. Your teeth sinking into your bottom lip only add fuel to his fire, and suddenly, Jungkook gets up. Before you can react, he hikes you onto his shoulder like a potato sack.

“What are you doing?” you giggle.

“Do you really think we’re going to have sex in your entryway?” he teases, arching a brow before giving your backside a playful squeeze. “No, Nabi. I’m going to make love to you—properly.”

He gently sets you down on the edge of your bed, his hands bracketing your body as he leans down to peck your lips.

“Do you have condoms?” he whispers, his hand drifting to caress your thigh affectionately.

You nod, pointing to the nightstand. Jungkook smiles, cupping your face as he pulls you into a breath-stealing kiss, wanting to focus only on you, pushing all the complications of his life aside for now. Straightening up, he unbuttons his shirt, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Like what you see?” He teases as you roll your eyes, amused.

“Oh shut up.” You laugh catching the shirt he tosses to your face just in time.

He leans in to press his lips against yours again, your hands cupping his face as he hikes one of your legs around his waist. His fingers trail along your thigh, tugging your dress higher.

“It’s a zip,” you whisper, yelping in surprise when he easily flips you onto your stomach.

His mouth finds the skin of your shoulder, and he presses himself against your backside. Almost effortlessly, he unzips your dress, his lips following the line of your spine.

“No bra?” he asks huskily. You shake your head. “Fuck.”

Jungkook pushes your dress down, his eyes widening as he notices the ink on your hip that snakes up to your back.

“You have a tattoo?” he breathes slowly, arousal surging as his fingers trace the lily inked in a smoky style, ending with a moth on your back.

The tattoo stretches from your hipbone to the back of your ribs.

“I’m a tattoo artist, Jungkook,” you chuckle, as he leans down to press an open-mouthed kiss on the inked moth.

“I thought you hated that nickname?” he teases, arching a brow.

“I was drunk. And unfortunately, it’s part of me,” you admit, gazing at him. His eyes, however, never leave the ink on your skin.

He already thinks you’re the hottest woman on earth. But now? You’re completely irresistible. His eyes linger on the lily. Part of him wants to believe it’s for him. It’s his birth flower—the same one tattooed on his arm. It’s funny how, unconsciously, your tattoos seem to match his.

“And the lily?” he asks curiously.

“Are we going to talk about my tattoos or are you going to fuck me?” you roll your eyes, avoiding the meaning behind it.

Jungkook chuckles softly before burying his face in your neck, leaving wet kisses on your skin as he lifts your hips to meet his, grinding against your backside shamelessly. His hand slips slowly into your panties, making you whine at his teasing pace.

“One or two?” he whispers, nipping at your earlobe as his fingers begin circling your bud of nerves.

Your cheek presses against the sheets as you arch your back, pushing your body against his erection.

“Fingers or orgasms?”

“You know I never ask for fingers. One or two?” he repeats, biting gently on your shoulder.

“Fuck, Kook,” you moan softly, your fingers wrapping around his wrist as his agonizingly slow pace leaves you craving more. “Two. But not with your fingers.”

He chuckles, kissing your cheek before flipping you onto your back to face him.

“I wasn’t going to make you come with my fingers,” he says, slowly slipping off your panties and tossing them somewhere in the room. “I just wanted to feel how wet you are.”

Jungkook closes the distance between your lips, giving you a brief kiss before pulling back to unbutton his pants. His eyes linger on the inked lily at your hip, and he leans down to press a soft kiss on it as he spreads your legs.

“Can I eat you, or are you going to close your legs like our first time?” he jokes, making you roll your eyes.

“I’m not eighteen anymore,” you groan as he hums, trailing kisses along your inner thigh.

“Fuck,” you whimper as his tongue meets your sensitive bud.

Jungkook’s heart races at the sound of your soft moan. He dives in hungrily, pinning your hips to the mattress to stop you from rolling them against his face. You’re pouty in his hands, and he would be lying if he said he didn’t miss your taste. When you arch your back again, he slips a finger inside, drawing a gasp from you. Grinding against the sheets for friction, Jungkook feels his arousal throb painfully. The strap of your dress falling off your shoulder earlier was enough to make him hard.

He pumps his finger slowly, giving all his attention to your clit—sucking and licking fervently. When your walls begin to flutter around his finger, he knows you’re close. He slips in a second finger, intensifying his ministrations with his mouth. The combination is enough to send you over the edge. Your body spasms as your fingers grip his hair, keeping him pressed against you.

When your legs tighten around his face, Jungkook slows his tongue until you relax. He pulls back, his mouth glistening with your juices. He trails kisses along your inner thigh before you lift your head.

“Come here,” you say breathlessly. He obliges immediately. “I want to kiss you,” you murmur.

Jungkook chuckles softly, leaning in to kiss you. Your hand finds his bulge, making him groan against your lips.

“Let me make you feel good,” you whisper, nipping his bottom lip.

“Next time,” he replies, shaking his head. “I want to be inside you right now.”

He grabs your jaw, tilting it so he can kiss the skin of your neck, his other hand softly squeezing your breast.

Your muffled moan makes him buck his hips. As if reading his mind, you reach for the nightstand, pulling out a condom with a playful smile. Jungkook scoffs, shaking his head as he sits up on his knees. You mirror him, your eyes locked on his fingers as he frees his length from his boxers. You open the condom, and his gaze trails along your body. Your hair is a mess, makeup smudged under your eyes—and yet, you’re the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.

Jungkook takes the condom from your fingers and rolls it on. You lean forward, resting a hand on his thigh as you press a soft kiss to his lips. It surprises him at first. This isn’t like the hungry kisses from earlier. This is tender. Intimate.

He cups your face, tilting his head to deepen the kiss as he lays you down beneath him. Slowly, he sinks into you, savoring every inch. His nose nuzzles against yours, and he presses a soft kiss to your lips to keep himself from saying the words that have been in his heart for so long. He knows it—you’re the only woman for him.

Slowly, Jungkook starts to thrust, keeping the pace unhurried to savor every second of the moment. His lips meet yours again, and you wrap your arms around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair. He rolls his hips sensually against yours, peppering kisses across your face, making you smile despite yourself. He wants to say it—the words are on the tip of his tongue—but it’s too soon.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

The thought loops in his mind. He sinks his teeth into your shoulder to keep himself from saying it out loud. You wrap your legs tighter around his waist, and your hands find his backside, urging him deeper. Sensitive from your previous orgasm, your body grips him tightly, making it hard for him to pace himself.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he murmurs huskily against your ear, kissing the skin just behind it.

The sound of his voice alone is enough to send you over the edge. Your muscles tighten, riding the waves of your orgasm. Jungkook clenches his jaw, one hand gripping your hip as he thrusts faster. The sound of your bodies colliding fills the air. The warmth pooling in his stomach is impossible to hold back. His orgasm follows yours soon after, his body trembling as he spills into the condom.

He collapses onto you, his arms wrapping around you tightly as if he never wants to let go—as if he’s trying to fuse himself to you and become one.

He stays there, face buried in the crook of your neck, needing a few moments to come down from his high. You hum softly, lazily peppering kisses along his neck. Jungkook smiles at the feeling before pulling back to roll onto his side and remove the condom. His gaze immediately finds yours, taking in every detail of your face with reverence.

“What?” you whisper, rolling onto your side to face him.

“I’m just… happy,” he replies softly, his fingertips tracing the curve of your jaw. “Do you need help getting cleaned up?”

You shake your head with a smile, fingers closing around his wrist as you press a kiss to the inside of his hand and the pulse point on his wrist. Jungkook’s heart thumps as he pulls you closer and leaves a soft kiss on your nose.

“I know those eyes,” he teases, chuckling silently before sitting up. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned before you fall asleep, miss.”

You groan in protest as he coaxes you to stand, whining dramatically as he tugs you out of bed. Jungkook is gentle as he cleans you, careful not to put too much pressure on the sensitive areas of your body. He didn’t go easy on you, and his proud smirk grows as he catches sight of the love bites scattered across your skin. Once you’re in fresh clothes, he lays you down again and pulls you into his arms.

“Are you okay?” Jungkook asks softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face before kissing your forehead.

You hum contentedly, eyes closed, a lazy smile stretching across your lips.

“Are you?” you whisper, and he chuckles, kissing the tip of your nose.

During one of your dates, you’d told him you never let a man stay in your bed—they always left after the “business” was done. While washing you earlier, Jungkook feared you’d ask him to leave. But those worries vanish when you snuggle against him, burying your face in his neck.

“You smell good,” you mumble against his skin.

“Yeah, it’s your shower gel,” he replies with a soft laugh.

“I know,” you add, arms tightening around his chest. “Kook?”

“Hm?”

“I hope you know I didn’t do this just because I was… horny,” you murmur, making him frown.

He suddenly feels guilty. After what he said in Busan, you probably think he doubts the intimacy you share. But nothing could be further from the truth.

“I know, nabi,” Jungkook replies, his fingers gently combing through your hair. “I wouldn’t blame you if you did it because I make you horny,” he adds teasingly, hoping to lighten the mood.

“My legs are closed from now on,” you grumble, rolling onto your back and draping an arm over your eyes.

Jungkook chuckles, propping himself up on one elbow. His dark eyes scan your face, admiration shining as his thumb traces the line of your jaw.

“So…” he whispers, his hand trailing down to your hip. “What’s the meaning of your tattoo?”

You groan, letting out a loud sigh before hugging a pillow. Jungkook can’t help but smile at how adorable you look.

“It was a stupid thing. After I graduated, Hyesun and I got tattoos to celebrate,” you explain, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from your forehead. “I was drunk, and I asked for that. It was…” You take a deep breath. “The day after you called me.”

“I called you?” Jungkook frowns, propping himself on an elbow.

“You don’t remember?” you ask, not upset but simply curious. “You called me the day I graduated to say goodbye.”

Jungkook’s cheeks flush, and his eyes widen. He’d dreamed of you so many times that he thought that conversation had been a figment of his imagination.

“I… remember. But I thought it was just… a dream or something,” he admits, licking his lips nervously.

His thumb gently traces the flower tattooed on your ribs. He wants to ask if it’s for him—if the call had influenced your decision to ink his birth flower on your skin. But he doesn’t want to sound arrogant, as if everything is about him. When you chuckle, it feels as if you’ve read his mind.

“Yes. It’s what you think,” you confirm, and his eyes light up. “I thought… if we never saw each other again, my mind would eventually start to forget you. This way, I’d always have you with me—in a certain way.”

Jungkook’s eyes soften as he cups your cheeks, pressing his lips tenderly to yours. He’d thought the same thing when he tattooed the moth on his arm. He’d wanted to carry a piece of you with him—something more permanent than memories.

“We’re just simps for each other, I guess,” Jungkook jokes.

You groan, hiding your face in the pillow, and he chuckles.

You know he’s right. You both know you’re each other’s greatest love. That’s why, the next day, as Jungkook heads to Jimin’s apartment with a huge grin, he knows he’s made his decision. When he opens the door, Jimin nearly jumps from his spot on the couch, frowning at the shining expression on Jungkook’s face.

“What?” Jimin asks, concerned.

“I’m leaving Hina,” Jungkook says, arms spread wide like he’s embracing his own decision. Jimin arches a brow.

“You’re back with Y/N?” Jimin stands, following Jungkook to the guestroom.

Jungkook grabs his sports bag from under the bed and starts packing, walking between the closet and the bed to throw in clothes.

“No. Not yet, at least,” Jungkook explains as Jimin stares at him, confused. “But,” Jungkook adds, raising a finger in the air, “it’s unfair to both of them. Hina deserves better than half of me. And I know I’ll never be able to give her my whole self. Not when I’m still deeply in love with Y/N. And that will never change.”

“So…?” Jimin arches a brow, leaning against Jungkook’s doorframe with his arms crossed.

“So, I’m going to be honest with both of them, Chim!” Jungkook says confidently, a smile spreading across his face. “Y/N is important to me. She doesn’t deserve half of me or a liar. So… once I break up with Hina, I’ll tell Y/N the truth—and ask her to be my girlfriend again.”

Jimin’s eyebrows shoot up at Jungkook’s plan. He knows the situation has been eating Jungkook alive, but now Jungkook seems to see a way out.

“And what if Y/N doesn’t accept this… betrayal?” Jimin asks quietly, making Jungkook freeze with his hand halfway into his bag. Jungkook sighs before turning to his friend.

“I’ll accept her decision. If she doesn’t want me, I’d deserve it. But at least… I’ll be honest with both of them.” Jungkook nods, more to himself than to Jimin. “Did you know she had a tattoo for me?”

“Hm.” Jimin nods casually, and Jungkook frowns.

“What—How?”

“Pool party. Two years ago,” Jimin shrugs. “I guessed it was for you. None of you are very subtle about your tattoos. Wait—but how did you know?” He frowns too as Jungkook chuckles, scratching the back of his head.

Jungkook knows you rarely show your body in everyday clothes.

“We, uh… we had sex last night,” Jungkook mumbles, his cheeks flushing as he continues packing.

“Oh…” Jimin hums before sitting on the bed. “When are you going to tell Hina?”

“Soon. I’ll look for a plane ticket when I get back.” Jungkook replies, zipping up his bag.

“You’re flying all the way to Japan?” Jimin asks, and Jungkook nods.

“It’s the least I can do.” He sighs, chewing the inside of his cheek. “She deserves more than a call and a breakup over the phone. Hina is…”

“Kind and gentle,” Jimin nods as Jungkook’s eyes soften.

“Yeah… I don’t want to be cruel. The least I can do is have this conversation with her in person.”

Jungkook slings his bag over his shoulder, and Jimin straightens up.

“And where are you going now?” Jimin frowns as Jungkook pauses in the doorway.

“Y/N invited me to stay longer. She’s cooking tonight,” Jungkook grins, making Jimin shake his head in amusement.

“Don’t forget to book that plane ticket soon,” Jimin warns as Jungkook pulls on his shoes near the front door.

“Yeah,” Jungkook calls back before Jimin steps into the living room. “I won’t be gone too long. I’ll look for it as soon as I get back.”

Taking a deep breath, he turns to Jimin.

“The sooner I get my ass out of this situation, the sooner I’ll be with Nabi.”

Jimin chuckles and shakes his head, amused.

“If she doesn’t dump your ass when she finds out about your fiancée,” he mutters, arching a brow.

“Don’t think like that,” Jungkook groans, rolling his eyes. “Everything will be okay.”

Jungkook pushes open the door to your tattoo shop, stepping inside. Today, you’re finishing his filling, but honestly, he’s just happy to spend time with you.

“Hello?” Baekhyun calls out when he sees Jungkook, arching a brow.

Jungkook glances at him and sizes him up. Now that he sees Baekhyun in person, he can’t help but notice how young the guy looks.

“Hi. I’m here to see Nab—Y/N,” Jungkook says, catching the nickname before it slips out completely.

The little mistell makes Baekhyun frown slightly.

“She’s busy,” Baekhyun replies, trying to hide the irritation in his tone.

“Oh, okay.” Jungkook glances at his phone.

“Do you have an appointment?” Baekhyun asks, busying himself with an iPad sketch.

“Actually, yeah. She told me to come at two p.m.,” Jungkook nods, watching Baekhyun carefully.

Jungkook’s eyes trail over Baekhyun’s face. What did you see in this guy? And worse, Jungkook knows you almost dated him, too. He doesn’t feel threatened, but Baekhyun’s jealousy is obvious. Jungkook is tempted to tease him—just to see how far he can push. But no, he’s not a teenager anymore.

He sends you a text to let you know he’s arrived. Less than a minute later, you appear, hair pinned up, glasses on, and black gloves covering your hands.

“Hi,” you greet him as he lifts the paper bag he brought.

“Fuck, you saved my life. I was starving,” you groan, closing the distance to greet him.

Jungkook can’t help but pull you into a side hug, one arm around your waist. His eyes flick to Baekhyun’s face, which slowly falls. You pull back, surprised, but Jungkook only smiles.

“I’m almost done with my client, and then I’m yours,” you say, looking at him suspiciously. He hums in agreement.

“Take your time,” Jungkook replies, watching you as you shake your head, clearly amused.

His gaze drifts back to Baekhyun, whose fingers tighten around his pencil. Baekhyun takes a deep breath and looks back at his screen.

When you return with your client, explaining the aftercare for her tattoo, Jungkook’s eyes remain glued to you.

“Tacos?” you ask when you stand in front of him.

Jungkook blinks a few times, then nods.

“With your sparkling water, as requested.” He smirks, his fingers twitching at his sides as he resists the urge to touch you.

“I’m taking my break,” you announce to Baekhyun before turning to Jungkook and offering your hand.

Jungkook doesn’t waste a second, intertwining his fingers with yours as he follows you behind the counter. When he walks past Baekhyun, he notices the frown etched on his face and instinctively moves closer to you. The two of you find a quiet spot near the storehouse. Taking the bag from his hands, you sit on a chair by the table and start digging into it.

“Stop.” You shake your head, an amused smile playing on your lips as Jungkook hums innocently. “I know what you’re doing. You’re taunting him on purpose.”

“What? Me? Never,” Jungkook replies dramatically, placing a hand on his chest in mock innocence. You roll your eyes at his antics.

He leans in closer, his face just inches from yours. “But if you want to help me to—”

You cut him off by pressing a taco against his mouth.

“I don’t kiss at work,” you say firmly. Jungkook groans, taking the food from you and unwrapping it, but he still manages to steal a quick kiss from your lips.

He chuckles as he pulls back before you can swat at him. And yet, there you are, pinching your lips together to keep from smiling, and he finds you utterly irresistible.

Jungkook has spent more time at your place than Jimin’s recently. It’s almost like you two are back together—like the separation never happened. Time seems to stand still in the bubble you’ve created. Waking up with you in his arms, cooking together after work, and falling asleep cuddled up—this is the life he’s always wanted. And he’s finally happy.

Lying on the couch with you draped across him, Jungkook absentmindedly traces his fingers along your spine while some ridiculous TV show plays in the background. You fit together perfectly, like two pieces of the same puzzle. The more time he spends with you, the more you let your guard down. In those first few dates, you were careful—your walls firmly up. But now, Jungkook has his Nabi back. The relaxed, playful you who blushes when he compliments you.

Sighing softly, he brushes a kiss against the top of your head. The peaceful moment is interrupted when his phone starts buzzing incessantly on the coffee table. Jungkook groans, grabbing it as you sit up to give him space. His brow furrows as he sees several missed calls from Jimin and two urgent texts.

FROM: Jiminie

Come back home!! It’s urgent!!!

FROM: Jiminie

Pick up the phone, you idiot!!! COME BACK HOME.

Jungkook sits up fully, reading the messages again. His gaze drifts to you, curled up on your side and pretending to be engrossed in the movie. He knows you’re curious but won’t say it out loud. You’ve always respected each other’s personal space—especially since you’re not officially back together yet.

“I have to go,” Jungkook mutters, standing. You frown, your eyes locked on him. “Jimin texted me. It seems urgent.”

“Do you want me to come?” you ask, straightening up.

“Nah, don’t worry,” Jungkook says softly, leaning down to cup your cheek and press a kiss to your lips. “Probably just a boy’s problem. I’ll be back soon.” He whispers the promise against your mouth, making you smile.

“Alright,” you hum, stealing one last kiss that makes him grin before he grabs his jacket and heads for the door.

Jungkook waves at you one last time before closing the door behind him. On the way to Jimin’s, he presses his lips together to keep from grinning. Even his jacket smells like your perfume. You’re slowly surrounding him, and he doesn’t mind one bit.

Tapping in Jimin’s door code, Jungkook groans as he steps inside, taking off his boots.

“This better be important, you piece of shit,” he mumbles, shrugging off his jacket as he heads for the living room. “I was in the middle of—”

His words die in his throat as he freezes in place. His entire body stiffens at the sight of two familiar faces sitting on Jimin’s couch. Jimin stands nearby, clearly stressed. Jungkook silently thanks the stars that he didn’t let you come with him.

The girl stands and runs toward him, long dark hair bouncing with every step. She smells exactly the same—peach and strawberry, way too expensive. Jungkook swallows hard as she throws her arms around him. His arm instinctively circles her, holding her thin frame close.

“Hina?” he whispers into her hair. “What are you doing here?”

She pulls back with a radiant smile.

“Surprise!” she beams, Kentaro standing behind her. “I missed you too much, so I decided to surprise you.” Her doe eyes trail over his features as she lifts a hand to caress his cheek.

Jungkook’s heart sinks. He didn’t notice time slipping by while he was with you. He was supposed to break things off with Hina weeks ago to avoid this very situation.

“I’m… happy to see you,” he says, nodding as she hugs him again, burying her face in his neck. He silently prays she doesn’t notice your perfume lingering on his skin.

When she pulls back to kiss him, he can tell she hasn’t noticed a thing. Jungkook kisses her back, but there’s no passion behind it—just muscle memory.

“It’s good to see you,” Kentaro says, stepping forward for a light hug once Hina gives him space.

“You too,” Jungkook replies flatly, his face almost emotionless as he processes how to escape this mess.

His hand falls to his side, but Hina grabs it and tucks it into her arm. Kentaro starts talking about how Hina insisted on visiting to surprise Jungkook and wanted to see Seoul before moving in. Jungkook isn’t listening. His eyes drift to the window behind Jimin. He should be somewhere else right now. He should be with you.

“So?” Hina asks, tilting her head to meet his gaze. “Are you surprised?”

Jungkook bites his tongue, forcing himself to meet her eyes. He takes a deep breath and puts on a mask—a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. At least until he has that conversation with her.

“Very.”

But the word doesn’t hold the same meaning Hina thinks it does.

< previous - MASTERLIST - next >

WATTPAD.

DELETED SCENE FROM CHAPTER 08 ON KOFI: HERE

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[pennyellee]

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰

title: champagne confetti pairings: heartthrob!jk, yandere!jk x fashion employee f!reader genre: dark romance, smut, porn with plot, 90s word count: 14K beta read by @chaoticpuff17 release date: 24.1.2024 23:00/11 PM CEST - 17:00/5 PM EDT

summary: You, a determined fashion designer, find yourself entangled in a collaboration with the irresistibly charming and egotistic heartthrob, Jeon Jungkook. Will this partnership remain strictly professional, or will he make the lines blur?

warnings: minors dni 18+ | sexual tension, emotional distress, teasing, unprotected sex, jk is selfish af, jk is delulu, oral (fem and m receiving), spanking, implied cum swallowing, creampie, soft yandere behaviour, obsessive behaviour, choking, rough sex, pussy pounding, bruises, manipulation, gaslighting, strong language disclaimer: this story is purely fictional, it does not depict real-life events or involve any actual members of BTS. This story will contain strong language, explicit content, obsessive behaviour, alcohol drinking, illegal activities, oppressiveness, which we do not condone.

author's note: so, ehm, this story got way outta my hands, it was supposed to be a goddamn rom-com with enemies to lovers trope - i wanted to build around the character trope of Rachel Green from Friends because she is my favourite character of all times, what i wanted to build around was how Rachel was offered a job at Louis Vuitton but it was in Paris - that was supposed to be the whole plot (with slight changes ofc), well and somehow it went in a different direction. Nonetheless I really enjoyed writing this fic and i hope you'll enjoy reading it as much. See you on the 24th chummers, love you! 🩵

“I know you took it,” you said, crossing your arms on your breasts. The heels of your black leather boots echoed in the apartment when you turned to face him.

“Took your breath away by that heated kiss, sexy, certainly. Otherwise I did not take anything.” Jungkook scoffed, crossing his arms defensively. The tension in the room was palpable as you square your shoulders, refusing to back down. You blinked twice at his cheesiness. The tip of your tongue moved to rest on the bottom of your upper teeth, your smile spreading on your face. The chuckle came out of you so naturally, laughing at his ridiculously ridiculous behaviour.

“Don’t play dumb, I know it was all you. You malicious sabotaging petty boy—” You retorted, articulation perfectly clear while the words laced with underlying frustration and anger.

He sighed, weariness settling over him. “You think I stole your portfolio to sabotage your career? You’re giving me too much credit, love.” Here he comes.

“I said nothing about my portfolio, Jungkook.” You said playing with his name on your tongue. A tense silence hung in the air as he considered your words, clicking his tongue, clearly annoyed and you were just getting started.

“I managed to figure that out. A drink?—” He offered, shrugging her statements of like snow in summer whilst he moved to the small bar that was a part of his spacious living room.

“I don’t want a drink, Jungkook. I want it back now,” you replied, your tone cutting through the casual offer. The anger in your gaze intensified, fuelled by the frustration of dealing with his nonchalant attitude.

“Let’s talk, baby.” He gestured towards the living room, as if trying to usher you into a more comfortable setting for the impending confrontation. He knew this was just a little shower, the real storm was still far away, giving him space to prepare.

As you moved, you couldn't help but notice the contrast between your demeanour and his. While your arms were still crossed defensively, his posture exuded a calm confidence that irked you further.

You took a seat on the edge of the sofa, not willing to fully settle into the illusion of camaraderie. Jungkook, on the other hand, sprawled onto a nearby chair, the picture of nonchalance.

“I need that portfolio to get a job because a certain someone has to be bitchy and sabotage my whole career because his big ass ego cannot take rejection. Give it to me,” you fired off, your words sharp and accusatory. He leaned back in the chair, smirking.

“Those are very bold words, Y/N. I would prefer to think of it as a wake-up call for you, not sabotage.” Your incredulous glare only intensified.

“Are you fucking serious Jungkook? A wake up call? You’ve just jeopardised everything I’ve worked for, and you’re calling this a wake up call?”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his gaze locked onto yours.

“I can get you a better job.”

You scoffed. The audacity of his response fuelled the simmering anger within you.

“You can’t get a shit, so give it back to me, and I’ll be on my way,” you requested.

Jungkook’s smirk remained, an infuriating mix of arrogance and nonchalance.

“No,” he said, smiling. Your hands clenched into fists at your sides, the frustration reaching a boiling point. He leaned back, seemingly unperturbed by your rising anger.

“What do you mean no?!” you shot back, your voice sharp.

“You were about to make a decision that would have consequences beyond your imagination. I had to intervene.”

“What the fuck are you on again?” Jungkook’s gaze remained fixed on you, the intensity of his stare almost unnerving while your voice went an octave higher. Your frustration reached its peak, and you stood up, pacing the room as you ranted. You were breathing heavily, trying to calm yourself.

You needed that portfolio, it was a collection of years of a work and your best work to be specific. The lousy new version won’t get you a job at no high-profile fashion brand and you cannot afford to go lower than your last position.

“Alright—” You said defeated, turning yourself to face him again, you put off your black leather jacket and fixed your low ponytail, slumping back to his sofa. Spreading your arms on the backrest and cross your legs.

Jungkook took a moment to breathe in the sight before him; he was throbbing for you.

“—what do you want?” you asked. He leaned back further into the chair, putting his masculine tattooed arms to rest on the back of his head, showing his abs from under the white tank top he is wearing.

“What do I want?” he mused, as if contemplating the question but he already knew.

“Spill it out.” You barked and he chuckled at your eagerness. He got up from his seat and dangerously slowly walked towards you.

When he reached you, both of his arms pressed to the leather of the sofa inches from you, caging your body. Your breath stammered as you looked at him towering over you, the golden chain around his neck hanging.

“Firstly, I want you to be my good girl, apologise for being a brat the other day and admit there is an “us”. Secondly—” he whispered seductively, closing the approximate distance while doing so. He was right in your face, looking over at your lips evidently he was controlling himself to not attack them. He invaded your personal space. The sudden shift in atmosphere left you breathless, and you could feel the heat radiating between you.

You squared your shoulders, refusing to succumb to the intoxicating energy he exuded. “I won’t apologise for any shit, now secondly?” You said while trying to hold your horses. You hate to admit your pussy was clenching and leaking under his gaze. He was attractive, and no one could deny that.

His fingers grazed your cheek gently, a teasing touch that sent a jolt of electricity through your body. You swallowed hard, trying to maintain a semblance of composure.

“I want these feisty little plump lips wrapped around my thick cock—”

.

.

.

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©pennyellee. please do not repost

tag list: @pamzn - @jaedayy - @mylyus-blog - @vanillacupcakefrosting - @jjeonjjk7 - @darkuni63 - @jeonaraathedreamer - @urlovelily - @kissyfacekoo - @looneybleus - @btspurplesky - @seokseokjinkim

ps: lemme know if you want to be additionally tagged! 🩵

lots of love, 𝖕𝖊𝖓𝖓𝖞𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖊

[ayyy-pee]

Discord 18+ - Twitter - Masterlist

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Female Reader

Story Summary: Following his mothers passing, Nanami inherits his family's rundown bakery. With the bakery on its last leg, Nanami reluctantly takes on the task of trying to save what his family has worked to keep for decades, but he can't do it alone.

Genre: Bakery/Coffee Shop AU

Warnings: Workaholic meanie Nanami, employee x boss relationship, but also enemies to lovers, death, grief/mourning, profanity, jealousy, fluff, angst, Nanami owns a bakery, parental loss, Nanami is bad at feelings, I don’t know if I’ll do smut for this one but sexual tension, mutual pining, Nanami is sort of an asshole here

Art by: Ilameys + (Unknown artist (right pic). I'd love to credit the artist so if you know who it is, please let me know!)

Chapter 2 - Wienerbrød

Chapter Summary: You try to bake something new!

You kick your shoes off as you enter your apartment. With your phone wedged between your ear and your shoulder, you groan in irritation as you storm into your living room.

“I’m telling you, Shoko. This guy is such a fucking asshole. Shut me down the second I asked him a simple question,” you’re ranting as you flop down onto your couch. “He’s got to be the most pessimistic person I’ve ever met. He did nothing but pick apart the entire bakery and tell me how shitty it was, tried to establish some strange dominance thing in the kitchen after offering me the job… the kitchen,” you stress dramatically, wavering your arms as if Shoko can see you. “My domain! Can you believe him? He doesn’t give a shit about the actual bakery. He’s a total businessman type. Stiff, boring as hell and a dick. I don’t know why I said yes to the position. I’m going to hate my life.”

You exhale sharply once you’ve finished your tirade. On the other end of the line, you hear your friend inhale deeply. You didn’t have to ask to know she was sucking on a cigarette, likely almost finished with it and prepping her second, maybe third. After a short beat of silence, you hear her exhale. “Hmm, is he hot at least?”

“Extremely,” you admit through gritted teeth, rubbing away the tension quickly forming between your brows. “That’s the worst part.”

You hate to think it, you loathe to admit it, but Nanami was so very fucking attractive, like stupid hot and it pissed you off! Those thick arms practically bulging through his dress shirt, those veins that exposed themselves and ran enticingly along his forearms when he rolled his sleeves up. His chiseled features, those sharp cheekbones, even his frown was attractive. And god, you didn’t even want to think about his waist. 

Anyone with eyes could see Nanami Kento was an insanely beautiful man, modelesque even. But it only served to piss you off more. His constant gloomy attitude was so off-putting, it almost took away from his beauty, like a rain cloud threatening to cover a blue sky.

“Anyway,” you sigh, putting a stop to your own thoughts as you stare up at the ceiling.  “That’s beside the point, Shoko. He’s an asshole, but it’s obvious he needs help to get his bakery up and running. I think it’s family owned. He told me that he grew up in the bakery. Seemed miserable about it, though.”

“Interesting,” Shoko manages, though she sounds rather disinterested. “Well if he had to pick anyone, he definitely hired the best person for the job. You’re annoyingly positive.”

“Okay, rude.”

“I just mean you’ll balance his negativity well. Just try not to let him walk all over you. You’ve worked with plenty of dickheads before. What’s one more?”

You hum, your mind already accepting your fate. “I guess you’re right.”

“You know I am. The guy clearly needs help and you love this kind of thing - taking something old, miserable and rundown and making it loveable again.”

You hum again, listening as Shoko blows out another breath of smoke. “And who knows? Maybe you’ll do the same for the bakery, too.”

“Right. Wait– what?”

“I gotta go. I’ll call you later.” She says, voice light with humor. The line goes dead and you roll your eyes at your friends comments as you let the day's events wash over you. Nanami said he wanted to sample some of your desserts on Monday and see some new recipes. You can do that.

The moment you’d stepped into the bakery’s kitchen, your mind raced with possibilities. You felt at home there. The kitchen felt like it had been loved, like it was properly used and cared for, albeit old and a little rundown. That was okay. It gave the kitchen personality and you loved that. You wanted to continue giving the kitchen the love it deserved.

Nanami told you he’d grown up in that kitchen, but he truly seemed to hate even being in the building. You tried to picture a chubby little blonde boy with his arms crossed and a scowl etched across his face standing in the kitchen covered in flour and icing. Adorable, but definitely not the man you’d met today. You wondered how it came to be that he now owned this bakery when he seemed to despise it.

And you wondered if there was a way to get him to learn to love it again.

You shake your head, pushing the thought away. It wasn’t your job to turn his frown upside down, so to speak. It was your job to make sure the bakery was successful as it’s Head Baker and that’s what you intended to do.

- - - - - -

The weekend came and went just as quickly and now you find yourself standing in the kitchen of the bakery with Nanami as the sun barely begins to rise over the city. You pile your notebooks onto the large metal table in the center of the room. Nanami reaches over, taking the notebook sitting atop the stack.

“Are these your recipes?” He asks, flipping through the pages.

“Yep. These are some pastries I created on a whim. I was thinking we could go through and select what you like, maybe tweak some so that they fit more of the vibe you’re going for with the bakery. Or are there any pastries you’d like to keep from the previous owner?” 

Nanami’s dark eyes shoot up from the notebook to look at you. You hold his gaze, trying to find anything behind those eyes aside from the clear hatred he holds for this bakery, but you don’t. It’s frustrating.

“No,” is all he says.

“Okay…well, we can start from scratch then. Let me know what you see that you may like.”

Nanami replies with something between a grunt and a hum. “I’ll review a few of these and will follow up. If you want to get comfortable and organize the kitchen to your liking, go ahead. Please try and have a sample pastry ready within the next few hours.”

He turns to go into his office without so much as a look back.

You sigh, trying to get used to this silence you were sure you’d be working in everyday whether Mr. Nanami was there or not. You couldn’t wait to establish a menu so you could bring staff on. At least then you wouldn’t feel so alone.

You wander through the kitchen with a notepad, looking through all of the smallwares and jotting down what you see in case you need to place an order. There seems to be many of the supplies you need here already and in good condition - spatulas, mixing bowls, flour sifters, icing tips. The bakeware also seems to be well supplied with an array of bread pans, muffin tins and cake pans. This place was fully stocked as far as you could tell. 

You shuffle over to where three mixer appliances sit on a counter against the wall, setting your notepad down to inspect them. They’re a little older, but they turn on and mix just fine. You’d bet they mixed better than some of the newer models. You decide you’ll keep them.

As you lean one of the mixers over to check its condition, you find a small booklet lying underneath the stand. You pick it up, gently setting the mixer back down before you open it to inspect it. It’s a tiny black leatherbound journal with very faded gold lettering in a language you definitely don’t know.

And you? Well, you’re nosey as hell, so you carefully peel back the cover, taking in the elegant writing etched onto the first page.

To my baby boy

There’s some strange writing scrawled beneath this in what looks like English letters. You can’t really tell, but it seems to be some message in whatever language this is. You turn a couple of pages and let your eyes roam over what’s written within. The rest of the pages you can read fairly easily as they’re in English. You can see immediately that these are recipes. The booklet is full of pastry dishes, both sweet and savory. They appear to be foreign pastries and you feel your heart race with excitement as you imagine making them because while you were adventurous with your baking, you’re positive you haven’t tried to make any of these. 

And Nanami did want to sample your baking, so why not give him something he’s not going to see in your portfolio?

Eagerly, you begin moving through the rest of the kitchen equipment, taking out what you need to begin.

- - - - - -

The kitchen is full with the smell of fresh dough baking. The quiet hum of the ovens working calms you as you sift through the recipe in the booklet you’d found earlier. You decided to make one of your original creations while also trying your hand at this new mystery pastry in case Mr. Nanami liked both…or one…or none. Shit, you didn’t want to imagine him not liking either.

You stare down at the ingredients already in the mixing machines.

“Alright. So, water, 2 large eggs, a teaspoon of salt, unsalted butter, active dry yeast…” You read through the remaining list of ingredients until you reach the end. “And now…flour?” You squint down at the notebook, the words scribbled messily on the paper, time having faded the ink. You can’t really make out the measurements written out. It looks like 2 ½ cups. You’ll try it and hey, if it doesn’t work, you’ll simply adjust the recipe to find the right mix. Easy.

Just as you’re sorting through the measuring cups, Nanami emerges from his office with your journals, mouth set in its usual hard line as he makes his way to you. He sets the books down, and you swear you see him inhale the sweet scent of the pastries currently baking in the oven before softly exhaling. You open your mouth to say something before quickly shutting it because he’s back to business in about .02 seconds. You really can’t read this guy, so you don’t try to. You redirect your focus back on to your task.

“These look good,” he tells you, his finger tapping on the book stacked on top. “I placed a post-it note on the recipes I think may work for the soft opening, but I’d like for you to make a sample of them beforehand. Maybe just a few a day.”

You nod, acknowledging his request but far too focused on scooping your guesstimate of flour. Nanami eyes you carefully, brown eyes staring as you carefully run your finger over the top of the flour. The excess falls carelessly onto the table and just before you pour it in, Nanami speaks, his voice halting your movements.

“What are you making now?”

“Hmm?” You ask, glancing over at him. “Oh, something called…” you peer down at the booklet, “Wee-ner-brod?” You’re one hundred percent positive you butchered that pronunciation, but how do you even pronounce ‘wienerbrød’? 

Clearly Nanami knows because he surprisingly lets out an amused chuckle before he asks, “Wienerbrød?” With what you assume is perfect pronunciation. And you’re not sure why, but the sound of his deep baritone laugh makes your stomach twist in a strangely pleasant way.

“Yes! That!” You point to Nanami with your free finger. “I’m making…” you stumble your way through the pronunciation again and get another small laugh from Mr. Nanami which makes your own lips curl up in a smile.

“I didn’t know you knew how to make Danish pastries.”

“I don’t, but you don’t learn without trying.”

“True. What step are you on now?” Nanami asks curiously, coming up to stand next to you. This close to him, you can truly see just how large he is. Not to mention, he smells incredible. You ignore the way the mix of the aroma of baked goods and his cologne almost makes your eyes want to roll back. You’d never smelled something so tantalizing before.

Nanami calls your name and you clear your throat, trying to re-focus.

“Oh, um…well I’ve added mostly everything and now I need to incorporate the flour - about 2 ½ cups.”

“Your calculation is off.” He affirms gently, eyeing the measuring cup in your hand.

You snort, “Are you suddenly an expert in Danish baking or something?”

“I can throw a few things together.” He says and you peek over to see him rolling the sleeves of his very nice (and probably very expensive) shirt up to his elbows. Your eyes roam over, drinking in the sight of those thick veins that you couldn’t get out of your head over the weekend protruding from his forearms, the way his muscles flex with the slightest movement and you wonder for a moment what it would be like to grab onto those arms while he –

“As I was saying,” Nanami’s quiet voice interrupts your reverie. “2 ½ cups is close, but you actually need 2 ¾ cups for this recipe.” He reaches in front of you to grab a ¾ measuring cup and again, you’re assaulted with the scent of his cologne. Your mind erupts with thoughts of nothing appropriate for an employee to be thinking about their boss, but you can’t help it!

You blame it on that damn smile of his and that laugh. It’s thrown you off of your game.

Nanami takes the measuring cup you’re holding and replaces it with another. “You also need to use your hands to mix this.”

You might faint.

“Is that…” you lick your lips, mouth suddenly feeling dry. “Is that completely necessary?”

Nanami slowly adds small amounts of flour into the mixer bowl while kneading with his other hand. “It’s time consuming, of course, but it allows for more control over the dough. You can feel the dough's texture…if it’s too dry or if it’s too wet. From there you can determine if more water or more flour is needed.” You watch as his brows furrow in concentration, a little surprised by his knowledge around dough. Though it shouldn’t be surprising given that he grew up in this very same bakery. Of course he’d know.

And once again, your stomach does somersaults.

Damnit, he was definitely going to need to stay out of the kitchen if you were going to stay employed here.

As Nanami continues working through the recipe, you chat idly about general things. He tells you a bit about his time as a businessman, but doesn’t elaborate on what exactly led him to own a bakery. And you tell him a bit about yourself, trying to keep the conversation light as this was the most you’d both interacted since your interview and you’re surprised by how well it’s going. You don’t want to ruin it by poking and prodding.

As the conversation goes on, you watch him very carefully as he works the dough, ignoring the way your heart races watching him do the very thing you do almost daily.

“The end result should be somewhat sticky,” he states.

And oh god, something was getting sticky alright…and it lay between your legs. Your eyes are glued to the bulging muscles of Nanami’s forearms working the flour into a thick doughy substance between his large, thick fingers. Your gaze moves up his stupidly sexy arms, to his biceps straining against his shirt and you imagine him flexing so hard, it rips to shreds, falling in tatters to the floor. The cartoonish image almost makes you want to laugh. And you would have if your eyes hadn’t continued their journey, higher to his tight shoulders moving in circles as he presses his palms into the dough. Higher to the tension in his jaw, the muscles rippling as he grits his teeth with focus. The kitchen suddenly feels unbearably hot and you’re not sure if it’s the ovens running causing the temperature to rise or the view in front of you.

Nanami had never mentioned he knew how to bake. But why would he? It was your job to know. You also never thought to ask after the sour note your interview ended on despite you still being offered the position. You could not stand him upon first meeting and now here you were practically drooling into this batter over how incredibly sexy he was when he was baking.

Nanami slowly pours flour in again as he kneads the dough with expert precision. The way he grips it in his hands, the way his fingers deftly sprinkle flour into the mix. You wonder what else those big hands can do.

The oven timer dings and you snap out of your lewd thoughts, pretty sure sweat is forming on your forehead from your fantasies. You spin around quickly to slide on oven mitts before you pull the pans from the oven. You’d chosen to make miniature fruit tarts with a vanilla pastry cream. A simple recipe, but absolutely to die for. Setting the tray down, you return to Nanami’s side just as he finishes kneading the dough.

And you try to hide the frown pulling at the corner of your lips when you realize you’d lost your perfect view.

He moves to the sink to wash the remaining dough from his hands, returning with plastic wrap to cover the mixing bowl. “I hope you weren’t planning on completing that today,” He says before turning to head toward the walk-in refrigerator. When he emerges, you shoot him a questioning look.

“I was going to let the dough rise for a few hours while I worked on some other things.”

He hums in acknowledgment, but shakes his head. “For this dough, you need to do a long rise for the best result. Overnight is best.”

“Okay, you’re the expert Danish pastry baker apparently,” you tease, earning you another small chuckle from him and you feel your face heat up at the sound.

What is with you today?

“How did you come up with the idea to make Wienerbrød anyway?” He questions suddenly. “Just seems a bit random given what recipes you’d given me to review.”

“Oh!” You rush back over to the mixers excitedly and grab the booklet, holding it up for Nanami to see, a wide grin on your face. “I found this under one of the mixers. It has some strange language I can’t read in the front of it…I’m assuming it’s Danish? But some delicious sounding recipes from what I could understand when I skimmed through. I decided this would be a good idea to take myself out of my comfort zone to try something new.”

Nanami takes a step forward, squinting hard at the little journal in your hands. Suddenly, his eyes widen slightly and he snatches the book from your hold. He opens it to the first page, where the foreign message is scrawled down before he snaps the book shut, his lips pursing in displeasure.

He pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs in clear irritation. “Next time you find something that is very clearly a personal belonging, please bring it to me before you take it upon yourself to poke through something that isn’t yours,” he snaps, his voice clipped.

The shift in tone takes you aback.

“Oh. I’m sorry, Mr. Nanami. It just seemed to belong to someone who knew their way around baking so I–”

“I didn’t ask for the reasoning behind your nosiness,” he cuts you off and you feel your own irritation begin to slowly rise. “Is this a habit of yours? Digging through people’s belongings and taking things that aren’t yours?”

You scoff, folding your arms across your chest defensively. “If you’d let me finish, I’m trying to apologize –”

“I don’t want an apology. I want you to show up here, bake and leave. Not spend your time digging through someone else’s belongings.”

You inhale sharply, trying to gather your thoughts. This conversation has taken an unpleasant turn and the last thing you want to do is have a blow up with your boss. You feel like you’ve actually made progress with him today and this feels like a setback waiting to happen.

“Again, Mr. Nanami, that wasn’t my intention. I just wanted to try something new. I had no idea this book…” you wave your hand in his direction. “...would be such a sore spot for you.”

At this, Nanami seems to bristle. “My sore spot,” he stresses the words, “is nosey employees who don’t just do the job I asked them to do. I asked you to make a sample pastry –”

“And I did,” you cut him off, gesturing to your tarts cooling on the table. “And I had enough time to try my hand at something new, which is why I wanted to try something new and present it to you.”

You sigh when Nanami meets your response with silence.

“What’s the issue here? You had no problem with helping me make this until you saw that book,” you say, pointing at the small black journal he holds. Your gazes lock in an intense staredown and even as Nanami annoys you, you can’t help but find his frustratingly pretty brown eyes completely mesmerizing. 

Ugh, stop.

“The issue,” Nanami stresses, “is you sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“Excuse me? It’s just a recipe book. Why are you so upset about it? Is it yours or something?”

“Again, poking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“Mr. Nanami, with all due…respect,” you grit out the last word because he was really starting to piss you off, “if we’re going to be working together as closely as we are, there needs to be some trust here. It’s just a recipe book. I apologize for overstepping, but you can tell me why referencing this book to make Weenerbrod is such a big deal.”

You could swear you see the ghost of a smile on his lips just before he rolls his eyes, correcting your pronunciation of the pastry again, just as he turns his back to you. “You are my employee, I am your employer and that’s it. My helping you to bake a simple bread does not make us friends. Please complete the sample pastries I requested of you and we can reconvene once they’re finished. End of discussion.”

Nanami heads to his office without another word, slamming the door behind him.

You can only watch him disappear from your sight, seething. Left standing in the kitchen alone after yet another faceoff with your new boss, you’re suddenly reminded of your earlier conversation with Shoko.

Just try not to let him walk all over you. You’ve worked with plenty of dickheads before. What’s one more?

You resist going after Nanami and giving him a piece of your mind, instead following his instructions to finish your samples. You won’t push him. Clearly that little book meant something to him and he had no intention of sharing. And he was right. It wasn’t your business to know…

…But you can’t help feeling upset that the light mood of earlier is now gone.

You sigh, ignoring the pit in your stomach as your anger begins to subside. Instead, you move to the walk in refrigerator, gathering the ingredients to make the vanilla cream for your tarts.

Your mind is still racing with the conversation that just took place even as you mix your ingredients and pack the cream into the icing decorating bags. You realize for the first time since meeting Nanami that he wasn’t only this stoic tyrant that enjoys barking orders. He was someone with interests, someone with depth, someone who clearly enjoyed the art of baking the same way you do. You saw the look in his eyes as he guided you through making this pastry. And while you’ve barely known Nanami, you’re familiar with the look on someone’s face when they’ve participated in their passion. He looked…happy. Clearly, there’s more to Nanami than you know.

More to him than what he was willing to show you. For now. 

You’re annoyingly positive.

Shoko’s words make you roll your eyes as they echo in her head. Because you know she’s right.

[samfucker]

gulp... darlin hcs... this is kinda long... i use he/they pronouns here. hes a cis dude in my eyes i just type they out of instinct.

hes called julius

mexican-asian! (their dad is mexican, their mom is cambodian. they were born in mexico but moved to washington when their dad got a better job opportunity.)

his dad has a teardrop tattoo and one of those "cut here" tattoos on his neck. he's also blind in one eye

their mom is beautiful but #evil. she always had her nails painted dark red

julius' favourite colour is dark red

he got 4 siblings!! hes the middle.

their older sister was the typical 2000s teen girl. ik yall are envisioning the hairstyle im talking about. she also brags about how she loved leopard print before it got popular.

also shes a kesha lover. now she listens to chappell roan. she IS casual.

as an adult, their younger brother works with animals! their older sister has an online job and their older brother is a mechanic. their younger sister is in college and julius hates her bf. the one sided beef is crazy. theyve never even met in person.

he did boxing as a teen and his little sister used to do dance

ik more of the fandom wants them to have happy childhood BUT NOT ME!!!!!!1

BOOM UR PARENTS SUCK!!

their dad sold their wii for drug money (am i projecting)

their mom is worst than their dad muahahahahah

they had a saint bernard called Pooch growing up and a yappy little chihuahua that his mom loved. that dog also refused to die. like im talking this dog got attacked by a bigger dog and had a tumor and got hit by a car and survived. by the time the dog died it had a leg missing and was blind. the vet bills were crazy

even tho their parents were shitty, they could never bring themselves to hate them even though they wanted to. when either of them would pass out on the couch, he'd cover them with a blanket and clean the living room and kitchen. when his mom would be upset, he'd sit and listen to her even tho she never did the same to him

he doesnt talk to his parents now and he makes jokes about what he went thru to cope, but he wonders if they're doing okay, if they got healed and became better people or if they passed away and they never knew.

the bond they had with their unempowered friend was the same bond asher, david and milo have. his friend was called trevor.

julius was trevors first kiss because trevor complained about feeling like a loser since everyone started dating around their teen years LMFAO

their first concert was a metallica one that they went to with quinn

they worked as a waiter for a while as a teenager and had a work bestie that was like 40

guyliner...........

I STOLE THIS HC FROM A FIC IVE READ IF YOU FIND IT PLZ LMK SO I CAN CREDIT!! but they worked in a fighting ring at one point

my own add on to the same hc: during this time, they had a shitty little apartment and the most decorated space was a dresser dedicated to their fish, soda pop. that fish was spoiled as fuck and he cried when soda pop died

he frequented a diner to the point the lady behind the counter knew his order beat for beat

when they were teenagers, asher took inspo from their style. they used to wear those little black wrist bands with the little spikes (do yall know what im talking about) and thats where ashers love for his spiked collar came from

they do not have a single pair of blank socks. they all have some sort of stupid design on them

also ofc, the rubber duck, courtesy of domini.

they hate haircuts

they HATE the grocery store. they get overstimulated and wanna die immediately.

best meal theyve ever made for themselves is mac and cheese. from those little boxes.

aggro bit them one time and theyre still upset over it

TATTED AS FAWK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! and they have piercings GODDDD THEYRE SO FINE

they also have sharp canines (im bouta bust)

i know yall want asher to have heterochromia but i hc julius has it. HOWEVER! I hc asher has anisocoria (one pupil bigger than the other). they bond over having eye conditions

they also fell out of a tree in the middle of the woods one time and cracked their head open and broke their leg and had to limp home

the first ever scar he got was on his chin when he and his brother were pushing each other around (as brothers do) and julius fell and cut his chin open. its very faded now, but his brother brings it up somtimes

one time, out of boredome, he ran away from his brother at the store

his little sister would hide between clothes in the store and would need to be called for on the intercom

i have more. theyre my fav listener. all my hcs go to them.

[alrightbuckaroo]

fall in love again and again: a milestone celebration

Hey everyone! So, I've recently hit a pretty big follower milestone on here and I wanted to celebrate with all of you since this little corner of the internet has slowly become a big part of my life <3

One thing about me is that I love an AU. Writing one, reading one, thinking of writing one, I love them. So, it only seemed apt to celebrate with them, right?

With the tremendous help of @herefortarlos, a beautiful banner crafted by @guardian-angle22, and a divider credit to this user, I present to you: fall in love again and again, a celebration that celebrates AUs.

Down below, you'll find a different sentence starters as well as different alternative universes. All you need to do is send in a prompt/sentence starter + an au you'd like to see the conversation in, and I'll write a short little story and/or blurb to go with it.

For example, you can just send in something like: ❛ you got me flowers? ❜ + #4 - Person A and B are cast as enemies in the next play/movie. It's the hardest job for both of them to hide their actual affection for each other.

I'll have my ask box open for these for until Feb. 13th and I do ask that you limit to two prompts at most. You don't have to send them both in at once if you want to spend some time with them :) Have fun! <3

something soft n’ sweet (fluffy, soft, romantic)

when you kiss me, heaven sighs (types of kisses) 

you mean everything to me (protective prompts) 

talk to me nice (soft and sweet sentence starters)

fuzzy feelings (fluffy dialogue prompts) 

chicken or the egg? (silly arguments prompts) 

spice up your life (smut, kink, nsfw) 

ho, ho, home for the holidays (smutty holiday prompts) 

talk dirty to me (nsfw sentence starters) 

only one bed, enemies to lovers, oh my! (fun sex tropes) 

whenever, wherever (smutty fic locations) 

asking as a friend (more than friends sentence starters)  

all aboard the angst train (angst, feels, heartache) 

home to you (soft angst prompts) 

hold you in the dark (soft angst starters) 

to take my love away (romance angst prompts) 

in every universe (alternative universes)

on the road again (road trip au)

he loves me, he loves me not (florist au)

love's gonna get you killed (assassins au)

that's that me espresso (coffee shop au)

don’t trust the b in apartment 318 (apartment au) 

a little taste of love (bakery au)

alrightbuccaneer (pirate au) 

it’s a bird! it’s a plane! (superhero au)  

by the book (bookstore au) 

flip the script (actor au) 

under the sea (mermaid au) 

and they were soulmates (red string of fate au)

[thepascalofus]

Supply Run - Return (part two)

AO3

PART ONE

Supply Run - Exchange (part three)

Pairing: Mando/Din Djarin x afab!Reader

Word Count: 8.0k

Summary: You’ve been Mando’s crew partner for a year now. Throughout that year Mando has warmed up to you and given you signs that your heart throbbing crush on him is reciprocated. There’s one thing making you hesitate. The condoms he bought on the most recent supply run.

Chapter Summary: While Mando takes a trip to the market and gets what he needs, he ponders your relationship and what it means to him.

Content Warnings: MDNI, 18+ only! Switching POVs, post season 2, the Crest lives, strangers to friends to lovers, mentions of Grogu, soft!Mando, insecure!Mando (a smidge), helmet loopholes, pining, idiots in love, jealous!reader, sad!reader for a little, mentions of sex work (sex work is work!), eventual SMUT (making out, grinding, f!receiving fingering, f!receiving oral sex, p in v, PRAISE kink, dirty talk), FLUFF, cuddling, happy ending guaranteed!

A/N: Thank you all so much for the responses on the first part! This is my first fic that I've ever shared and it makes me so happy that other people enjoy my writing! Enjoy!

Mando handed his scope off to you in the worn down store. Wallpaper peeled from the ancient wooden planks of the walls. Cobwebs littered the untouched areas of the store. The work stations in the back, visible from the pick up counter at the front, were in complete disarray. Several projects started, but not finished. Several projects finished, but not retrieved.

You took the scope in your hand and twisted it in your hands until your gaze landed on the name of the manufacturer and the serial number. Your eyebrows shot up once the brand of the scope was revealed, it twisted in your hands once more. Hands raising the metal tube so it was level with your eyes, you looked into the scope. 

“Ah! I know what it is!”

Mando watched in confusion as you ran to a workstation and grabbed a singular tool. How did you know what was wrong so quickly? He sat in the hull of the Crest for hours attempting to fix the scope. The motions of taking the scope apart and putting it back together were etched into his brain from the number of times he did so. 

You returned to the front of the store with the tool in hand. “This manufacturer has been having these issues lately. They built their magnification system like no one else, but they didn’t seem to account for the need to recalibrate the scope every once in a while. Recalibrating too often causes the lenses to misalign.” 

Mando calibrated his every day. He had to. It was part of his job. A miscalibration could be the difference between a two hour hunt and a twelve hour hunt.

Your face twisted in concentration as you inserted the tool into the side of the scope. Jostling the metal, it popped open and allowed access to the inside. “For some reason they put these weird pins in…” You trailed off while you removed a total of three thin metal pins. Once the pins were removed, you clicked the top of the scope back into place and handed it to Mando.

Mando previously took the scope apart countless times. He never noticed any pins.

“Twenty credits, please.” You said with a smile. Your gaze met his–you somehow found it through his black visor–and you maintained eye contact.

The display on the inside of Mando’s helmet only progressed seven minutes after he entered the store. Inside of his helmet his eyebrows shot up. He was impressed. Not only with your efficiency, but with the reasonable price as well.

“I’m impressed.” He stated. Nodding at you, he retrieved a few credits from his utility belt and set them on the paint chipped counter. He turned and walked a few paces and then stopped in front of the door.

He’s been looking for a crew mate for weeks. The potential candidates he’s stumbled across were either annoying, rude, or incompetent. Throughout his time as a bounty hunter he’s been to countless repair shops. The service was always lack-luster, prices were too high, repair time much too long. 

Sure, he just met you eight minutes ago, but you had potential. He turned on his heel and faced you. Armor glinted in the low lighting of the run down shop. 

“Are you in the market for a new job?”

–

Walking to the market, he’d been reflecting on his decision to bring you onto the Crest as a crew partner.

It was the best decision he ever made, besides saving Grogu from the Empire.

You were intelligent. Friendly. Resourceful. Efficient. Brave.

You stared a Mandalorian straight in the eyes–well, visor–and didn’t even flinch. You didn’t even break eye contact, unlike everyone else. People would turn to whoever they’re with to avoid his gaze. They spoke like he wasn’t a meter or two away–and like he couldn’t amplify their voices with his helmet.

His tall, broad stance usually set everyone on edge. The heavy weight of beskar armor, a reminder of his skillset, didn’t aid in calming the nerves of anyone either. He was typically soft spoken around others, as he noticed people’s reactions when he spoke–eyes wide, speech stuttering, shaking hands–scared. 

Everyone was afraid of him.

Except you.

When you first boarded the Razor Crest, Mando was extremely careful in making sure you were comfortable. The majority of his days not hunting were spent in the cockpit or in his bunk. Whenever you crossed paths in the hull you offered him a small smile and quickly looked away. Did your bravery fade away?

He came back from a hunt one day, quarry in tow, and he was relieved to hear, “How was your day?” Fall from your lips once the bounty was in carbonite.

Still cautious–mindful of how the modulator made his voice sound–he kept his answers short and to the point.

“Fine.”

“Busy.”

“Awful.”

Hearing the four words you said after each return from a hunt, and being able to give you a response without you slinking away, made the hunts worth it.

One night always stood out in his mind. It was just like any other return from one of his hunts. Mando dragged the quarry up the Crest’s ramp by a cord tied around their ankles. He lifted the man to stand up, doing so effortlessly with a few grunts to spare. 

Your living space was in the hull, so he always tried to make the ends of his hunts fast. You didn’t have any choice but to watch. Mando didn’t want to make you watch for too long. Maker, he didn’t want you to watch at all.

His fist slammed the button to begin the freezing process. Breathing heavily, he stood and watched the bounty as they froze into the carbonite cell. A blanket of silence covered the hull once the hissing of the freezing mechanisms came to a stop.

“How was your day?”

There it is. His favorite part after the hunt. Knowing you were there, safe within the hull, and that you wanted to be friendly with him–even after witnessing him freeze a person he tracked down for several hours.

“Nothing you want to hear about,” he replied, his voice tinged with tiredness. The helmet’s modulator most likely didn’t register the sleep in his voice. Truly, he didn’t think that you would want to hear about it. The Mandalorian was afraid that hearing about his hunts would put you on edge. You already extended a branch of friendliness to him twice a day. He didn’t want to give that up by talking about the bounties he tracks down.

“Try me.”

Those words.

Those words have only ever been spoken to him by enemies. It always caused annoyance to wash over him, head to toe. He’s a Mandalorian. Confident of his skills in combat. No matter the odds, Mando knew he would like them.

But when those words tumbled from your lips, it was different. When his enemies weren’t scared of him, it was annoying. When you weren’t scared of him, adoration filled his body. And not adoration in a patronizing way, but adoration as a form of respect. 

It made him want you that much more.

Snapping out of his thoughts, Mando realized the crotch of his pants were tight. Nonchalantly, he clasped his hands together and rested them below his belt.

“Quarry tried to escape and they ran. Would have been back four hours ago,” the modulator gritted out. Again, he was conscious of how the modulator warped his voice. “Not too fun,” he added in an attempt to make the conversation more casual.

You were silent. He whispered a curse to himself under his helmet, one that he was certain wouldn’t be picked up by his modulator. Was his answer too much? Mando quickly became nervous and started to shift his weight from one foot to the other. The silence you left in the air made him a bit anxious.

The T shape of his visor peered over to you. You stood still in shock, reminiscent of the people that saw him in public. Before his thoughts could spiral too much, you replied, “Oh, I’m sorry.”

Dank farrik. He didn’t want you to feel like you had to comfort him. “You don’t have to be sorry,” his chest brushed against your shoulder as he swiftly hopped onto the first rung of the ladder up to the cockpit. “It’s my job.”

“That doesn’t mean it sucks any less,” you said. He smiled underneath his helmet at your consideration. Your eyes widened and your mouth opened and closed as you realized what you said, “sorry, I probably shouldn’t have said that your job sucks.”

You weren’t wrong. Making his way through tough terrain, relying on a blinking red light on a piece of metal to guide him. Finding them was a task in itself, but dragging them back to the Crest was the other half of his job that sucked. Mando looked over his shoulder at you and replied matter-of-factly, “My job does suck.”

A giggle bubbled out from your chest. Every once in a while you would be reading a funny article on your Holopad and your laughs would echo through the hull of the Crest, making their way up into the cockpit. He needed more of them. His silver helmet shook slightly from side to side and he turned back to climb the ladder. But not before he also let out a small chuckle.

If you were comfortable enough to stand up to him, and laugh at his awful attempts at jokes–after he just hauled a bounty onto the ship–Mando realized he was safe.

Not only were you safe with him. He felt safe with you, in more ways than one.

Kriff it. You extended a friendly attitude towards him–a faceless warrior covered in impenetrable armor–then he could extend a friendly attitude towards you as well.

You asked him about this day, both in the mornings and the evenings. He learned about what you like and didn’t like. One item stood out to him. Caf. He always entered into a cloud of caf scent when he sauntered into the hull in the mornings. Mando was usually up before you, so he figured he would start making you a cup every morning. Confident enough in knowing which kinds of caf you preferred, he would stock up on caf every supply run.

The Mandalorian got closer to you, both physically and emotionally. Sometimes he would catch his hands landing on your waist or your lower back when he passed you on the ship. You’d shoot him a small smile in response. The distance he kept from you only decreased. He wanted to see your smile more and more. 

One thing he didn’t see coming was your interest in Mando’a. He would mumble to himself in the ship while completing various tasks.

“What’s that word mean?” You’d occasionally ask. The Mandalorian would explain their meanings, sometimes struggling to translate the word to Basic.

He must have taught you at least two dozen words in Mando’a by now. Each time you asked you would give him your full attention. 

At night, if he amplified the sound with his helmet enough, he could hear you practicing the words and recalling their meanings. It motivated him to share more words with you.

–

All of these experiences have led to this day. He’s been planning it for a month or two now. 

He wants to ask you on a date. Nerves bubbled up from his stomach and throughout his body. They suddenly came to a halt. 

Not now. First, he needs to collect information on a quarry.

Lost in his thoughts, he looked up and the market filled his vision with you in his peripheral. It wasn’t too busy, part of the reason why he was comfortable enough for you to shop on your own. He clarified the meet up point to you and watched as you took off. You had a bounce in your step, probably due to your excitement at shopping alone. 

Once he meandered further into the market he began to collect information. This market was the bounty’s last location. Mando’s guess was that he either simply wanted to be in a small city, gambled their life savings away, or they paid for visit after visit with the workers at the brothel until they ran out of credits.

Only one way to find out. The gambling and brothels didn’t start up until later in the afternoon. To kill the time, and to possibly find the quarry, Mando wandered throughout the different sections of the market. 

He asked a few vendors about the bounty. Mando described the man to many market sellers and only got a slight lead from one woman donned in patterned fabrics. 

“I think he went that way,” the woman gestured with one of her hands towards an intersection, “Take the left path. I don’t know anything else beyond that.”

Mando dropped a few credits into her hand and gave her a polite nod, “Thank you.” He continued on and curved his gait to take the left path. From the signs and general merchandise displayed on each stall, he knew he was entering the clothing section of the market.

The helmet covering his head swiveled from left to right and right to left. No one matched the description of his quarry. Repeating his previous process, he made his way down the stall-lined alley and asked a couple different vendors.

Once the last vendor finished talking, and provided him with another lead, he dug his hand into his pocket and slid the credits on the stall’s counter towards them. Turning his back towards the vendor, his feet carried him two steps back into the market.

Then he saw you.

You stood hunched over a table of colorful bracelets. Tapping his fingers to the temple of his helmet, Mando zoomed in and the helmet displayed your face to him, deep in thought. Looking down, you were hovering your hands over a grid of various green bracelets. 

You stopped on one. Mostly brown, almost too much to be in the green section, Mando thought. Nonetheless, the green and silver streaks peeked in and out of the thick threads of brown that made up the bracelet. Your fingers sorted through the sizes of the bracelet and selected one that looked close to your size. 

Clutching it in one hand, the other hand searched for another of the same bracelet. It was larger than the previous size. You set the smaller bracelet down and tested the strings. The bracelet was adjustable, and you smiled at the discovery.

You transferred the bracelets onto the table of the stall and used one hand to dig into your pockets. Palm held out flat, Mando guessed that about twenty credits sat in your palm. He followed your gaze to the sign listing the prices.

PRICES

1 bracelet = 15 credits

2 = 30 credits

3 = 45 credits

4 = 60 credits

Shoulders falling, you dropped the credits back into your pocket and returned the bracelets to their original spot in the grid of green. Ground crunched beneath your shoes as you turned and continued wandering through the market.

Mando noted it was the third stall to the left of the bright green stall on the left side of the alley.

Not wanting you to realize he saw you, the Mandalorian walked in the opposite direction you took. After twenty minutes he noticed that the stalls became much more strange than the stalls in the clothing section of the market. Peering at the different products for sale, he saw a potions shop offering “super strength elixir” and a vendor selling various pet-like creatures. A few more vendors passed his peripheral vision as he continued his strides. They came to a stop once a building larger than the surrounding stalls came into view.

His helmet tilted upwards to read the sign displayed front and center on the large building: BROTHEL.

Tapping the side of his helmet, the time on the helmet’s display indicated that the brothel and gambling scenes had just begun. Mando tapped the temple of his helmet once again and the warm bodies within the building lit up, like he had x-ray vision. He counted a dozen in total. One body stood in the same spot inside near an entryway–the bouncer, Mando thought.

The bouncer was the individual that allowed access in and out of the building. If their memory was decent, they would be like a living guest book. Mando figured he could bribe them to reveal information, which was his usual plan with most of the beings he spoke with.

He sauntered over to the side of the building the bouncer was standing at. A singular light flickered over the side door, the sun was still out, so Mando was confused why it was on. The beskar helmet observed the side door.

Metal. Double deadbolts. Keypad on the left side. Small slit at eye level–neck level for the Mandalorian.

As soon as he crouched down to look near the slit, it slid open and revealed a thick pair of black eyebrows. Black eyes bore into the brow of Mando’s helmet, as the bouncer couldn’t seem to find his eyes. 

“Do you have an appointment?” The bouncer asked. The voice behind the door was gruff, as if the words had to crawl from the depths of his throat. 

“No,” Mando responded.

Black eyes blinked and then disappeared when the bouncer closed the metal slit. 

Mando was taken aback and furrowed his brow. His fist pounded on the door. He just wanted this hunt to be over with. He wanted to get back to you.

The slit in the door revealed two black eyes once more.

“I have credits and will pay you if you give me information on a client your establishment may have served.” Mando’s modulator gritted out loudly. Straight and to the point. All business. 

Eyes disappeared again, but were then accompanied with the sounds of the deadbolts unlocking. The metal door swung open to reveal a man dressed in all black with a silver name tag. Black hair matched the rest of his ensemble. 

Still holding the door, the bouncer asked, “What’s the bounty look like?”

An eyebrow raised inside Mando’s helmet, but he figured the bouncer knew the drill by now. Even other bounty hunters knew that brothels were what many bounties visited. A gloved hand unbuttoned a pocket on his belt and retrieved a bounty puck. Clicking the side of it, the puck displayed the quarry. 

The man stepped out of the doorway and onto the pavement, pulling the door closed behind him. His black eyes slightly squinted when his gaze trailed up and down the hologram.

“Ah yeah, I’ve seen this guy. He has a type, always goes for the blondes.” 

“Does he have any upcoming appointments?” Mando questioned.

The bouncer sighed in thought and pulled a small notepad from his pocket. Mando mirrored the man’s motion and produced a pen and notepad from his pocket. 

“The guy has an appointment in two days. He just asked to see a blonde. Figures.” The man shrugged and opened his notepad. Mando noticed it was a planner, and the bouncer flipped to the pages for the appointments two days from today.

“Which workers would take him as a client?” Mando’s modulator churned the words. His pen clicked as he readied himself to write.

The man donned in black made a fist with one hand and raised a finger with each name, “Ari. Taima. And Nomi. They would be in rooms one, five, or seven.”

Wow, Mando thought, this guy really knew the drill. He quickly finished up writing down the names and room numbers of each worker. The pen scratched feverishly against the cream colored paper, leaving behind black strokes to form letters and numbers. Notepad folding closed and the pen clicking, signifying the end of his notes, Mando returned the pen and paper to their place in his pocket. His opposing hand reached into a different pocket and produced a sizable amount of credits. Feeling generous, thankful that this hunt was going to be quick, he compensated the bouncer handsomely.

First task done. Second task on the horizon.

Creaking produced from the hinges of the metal door as the bouncer disappeared behind it once more. Flickering light gleamed off the beskar armor that protected the Mandalorian in combat. Although he wasn’t going into combat, because he wouldn’t be nervous if he was. 

Mando trained most of his life with the greatest warriors in the galaxy. Combat flowed through his blood easily. It was a part of him. 

But he was never trained on how to ask people out on dates.

On top of that, he was never trained on how to ask you out on a date.

He didn’t want to misread the situation. You could just be friendly. Who would want to date a man and not know what he looks like? Who would want to constantly live on a ship, without a permanent home? 

Being Mando, he prepared for the worst. If you said no, he figured that you would be uncomfortable living with the man who asked you out on a date. Knowing that he’s attracted to you. He would fly wherever you wanted and give you some credits to get started. Kriff, he’d send credits for however long it takes for you to get on your feet. Then he’d leave you alone. 

Admittedly, the Mandalorian would probably keep an eye on you to make sure you were safe. You just wouldn’t know he’s there.

But if you said yes.

Mando’s chest bloomed with anticipation. Firework-like tingles trailed up and down his limbs at the thought. He bit his lip within the confines of his helmet when he realized his pants had gotten tighter. Thankfully he was a Mandalorian, because heat washed over his face, half due to arousal and the other half in embarrassment.

The brown eyes underneath the helmet widened. If he wanted to do more with you and you agreed, he didn’t have protection.

Turning on his heel, cape whipping behind him, he made a quick pace back to the brothel.

Once he arrived at the gray building, the light at the side of the building having more of a purpose, Mando glided towards the same door as before. Bringing a fist up to the metal, he knocked three times.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Clink. Shhhkt.

“Do you sell condoms?” the modulator quickly blurted.

All business.

—

He arrived at the meet up point before you. Leaning against a nearby tree, Mando checked the time constantly, as if he was devoted to the action more than his Creed. If you were late, he always went looking. 

Thankfully, you trudged up to the food stall on time with a hefty bag full of purchases. Fine, brown gravel grinded against the soles of Mando’s shoes as he made his way over to you. His gloved hand slipped the bag from your grasp and the pair of you began walking back to the Crest.

Both of you carried on with your normal post-supply run routines. You and Mando, but this time just Mando, piled the purchases from the market onto the hull’s floor. From there, the items could be sorted through and put in their respective places around the Crest.

As Mando finished unloading the large bag of purchases, he quickly dug around for the receipts. He knew how much you liked to review the shopping haul each time a supply run was completed. Mando enjoyed seeing the satisfaction wash over your face after you read over the receipts.

But this time was different. You froze once you got to the last receipt.

Mando’s helmet tilted in confusion. He took a few steps closer towards you, “What’s wrong? Did we forget something?”

You remained still while your eyes darted over the lines on the receipt. With your back turned to him, Mando found the opportunity to zoom in on the ink printed on the flimsy paper.

ITEMS PURCHASED (1)

CONDOM - 12 PACK

Oh. Fuck. FUCK.

He hasn’t even asked you on a date yet and now you probably already think he’s a perv. Nerves took over his body as you continued to stand still.

Your hand quickly crushed the receipts and threw them in the trash, “Nope! The last receipt didn’t look familiar but,” you trailed off slightly but recovered, “I remembered what I bought from the place.” A nervous laugh–obviously fake, Mando knew what your real one sounded like–escaped from your lips.

He fucked it up. You knew he was interested in you like that. And you didn’t feel the same. He hasn’t even asked you on the date yet. It’s all screwed up now.

But he also felt like he didn’t have enough evidence. What if you did like him but the idea of…needing to use the condoms…made you nervous.

Mando had to at least try. The least he had to do was ask you.

He cleared his throat and grabbed the bag off of the floor. You stood away from him, biting the inside of your cheek, nervously watching his movements. 

“I’m going to go to the night market,” he informed you, “I have some business with a bounty I need to take care of.” 

The bounty wouldn’t be captured until two days from now. In reality, he was really going to go and purchase snacks, takeout, and a pair of those bracelets you admired. It would have been suspicious if he met you back at the meet up point with bags full of snacks. The beskar man figured it would be best to hold off on buying them until later, and tell you he was getting a bounty, so you wouldn’t catch on.

He should’ve waited for this second trip to buy the condoms, he thought.

–

Mando left to, “Go to the night market,” he said. You saw the condom listed on the market receipts, you knew where he went tonight. What he’s going to do. 

The brothels.

Yeah, sure, he’s paying a worker to give him a service. No feelings attached. But you didn’t want him to be with anyone else. Was Mando necessarily yours? No. Have you ever had sex with him? Also no.

That didn’t stop you from getting jealous.

And it wasn’t just jealousy. It was fear. What if he fell in love with one of them? Or what if he was going on dates? He could have a romantic interest you don’t even know about. Next thing you know, they’re going steady and you’re kicked off the ship. Or worse, you have to watch him love someone that isn’t you.

No more silence with him in the cockpit, watching as the hyperspace lights soar past the windshield. Feet tapping down the ladder as you both began your nighttime routines. He’d wait in the hull near the door of the fresher in just his helmet, undershirt, sleep pants, and socks. As he lifted off the wall from his leaning stance he’d ask you, “Are you done?” Holding his own hands in front of him, trying to seem relaxed, as if he was trying to look less intimidating. “Yeah,” you’d quickly respond, leaving the fresher and brushing past him. Sometimes his hand found your waist as he passed, or the small of your back. “Thank you,” he’d grunt gently as he closed the fresher door. 

No more of Mando letting out a small, “Good night,” before lingering on your closing eyes and watching as your lips smiled, forming your response, “Good night.” 

Falling asleep, you knew you’d wake up to him. He would be up before you on most days, leaving you a fresh cup of caf and your favorite ration pack (when he had them). The short chatter between you two, going over the logistics of the next hunt, telling stories from your past, or just thinking out loud to each other. Gone.

You would be banished from home.

The fear struck your chest. Heat searing through your ribcage and meeting your spine, the visions repeated over and over in your head. Tears fell like waterfalls from your eyes. Most streams connected underneath your chin and trailed down your neck. Your back met the hull’s wall as you sank down onto the floor. Deep breaths. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Your head was heavy and numb.

Just breathe. You knew you weren’t going to die. Go through some heartbreak? Maybe, but you knew you’d be alive. It helped. Your breath slowed and the fear dissipated into the air around you. That didn’t stop the flow of tears down your cheeks as your eyes were fixed on the closed ramp.

–

Mando’s footsteps set a steady pace back to the market.

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

He displayed a map of the marketplace as an overlay on the display of his helmet. Mando usually reserved this practice for combat to aid in determining exit strategies and the best plan of attack.

But now he was using it to calculate the most efficient route throughout the marketplace in order to see you again sooner. 

Closing the overlay from the helmet’s display, he was met with the sight of the market. Long strings of lights decorated the different stalls. Many vendors took advantage of the dark and used different, bright combinations to reel in customers. Some lights were multicolored. Some flashing. Some huge and some small. He thought of the “ooh”s, and, “ahh”s that you would let out at the brilliant display.

The Mandalorian started in the food section of the market. Carefully examining which vendors carried your favorite snacks, he made purchase after purchase in quick succession. His helmet remained on a swivel, scanning the stalls from right to left and left to right. 

A stall offering your favorite kind of takeout came into view.

Once Mando arrived at the stall he ordered two takeout meals. The vendor looked startled and confused as he ordered. They shakily accepted the credits for the two meals. Gazes drifted away from Mando and quickly returned as he stood waiting for the meals to be prepared. A bell rang and he retrieved two warm containers, placing them in his bag alongside the snacks.

One last stop. The bracelets.

Marching through the food district, he came upon an intersection at which the left path led him to the clothing district. Yet again, his helmet pivoted on his neck from one side to another. 

The third stall to the left of the bright green stall on the left side of the alley.

Mando continued his steady pace until the bright green stall came into view. The brightness of the exterior paint was exaggerated by the warm light emitted by lanterns, which decorated the outside of the shop. He didn’t notice before but the store sold children’s clothes. Onesies. Small shoes. Tiny hats.

A small tunic. Small enough for a human child younger than one year old. The tunic reminded him of Grogu’s. Mando’s bare hands brushed against the material countless times as he cradled The Child in his arms.

The last time he spoke about Grogu was with you. You listened and offered support. He’s never had anyone do that for him.

His visor turned to his left. The soft fairy lights of the stall reflected off of the beskar helmet on his head. As if the beskar reflected a dark sky decorated with bright stars. Various fabrics hung from the side of the vendor’s stall to cover the old wooden planks. Little accessories were placed throughout the shop on different tables and displays. 

Mando wasn’t focused on those items, he was focused on the long table of bracelets organized by color. His feet carried him to the green section. The helmet turned downwards to allow him to observe the selection. 

Shit.

There were so many bracelets similar to the pair you held, just all in different combinations of green, silver, and brown. Was it the bracelet with the large green cord and the small silver and brown threads? Or the one with the large silver cord and green and brown threads? Or thick brown cord with streaks of green and silver? His hands hovered over the options, doing his best to recall the details from earlier in the day.

“It’s this one,” a woman’s voice said.

A bit startled, the Mandalorian looked up and found a woman standing on the other side of the table. She wore long robes with intricate patterns. Jewelry decorated every limb and part of her body, like jewels were dripping down from her skin from a storm of gemstones. Hair cascaded around her shoulders and down her back. Her smile was kind and her gaze met Mando at his eyebrow.

A good try, he thought.

“I’m sorry?” He replies. She couldn’t possibly know which bracelet he was trying to find.

“You were watching them earlier. From across the street,” she let out faint exhales as she let out a short laugh, “Maybe you should hide a little better next time.” 

She reached out and picked two bracelets out of the display grid. “I remember the sizes too,” she said, “The person you watched held onto them for so long, they seemed pretty attached to them. I kept track of which bracelets they were just in case.” The robed woman shot him a friendly wink.

“In case of what?” Mando questioned. He was still in shock that the woman noticed him staring at you from across the street. 

The woman glanced up at him like that was a dumb question, “In case you came back to get them, Mandalorian. This isn’t my first day on the job.”

It saved him the time and stress of trying to remember which one it was, so he shrugged and watched the woman’s jewelry dangle as she typed onto the register. 

Beep. Beep. Beep beep. Ching.

“Okay sir, twenty credits please!” The woman extended her hand out and waited for Mando to place credits into her palm. She was met with the tilting of the black T shape on Mando’s beskar helmet. 

“I thought the price was thirty,” he stated as he began to reach into his pockets to retrieve his credits.

The woman let out another small laugh, “Oh, I suppose I should have made the sign larger,” her decorated fingers pointed to a small sign above the one that displays the bracelet prices.

$10 OFF WHEN YOU BUY TWO OR MORE

Mando’s shoulders dip in realization that you could’ve bought the bracelets in the first place. A sigh escapes his modulator and he hands the credits over to the intricately robed vendor. The credits clink into her palm, and then into the register.

He waits silently for her to package them up in a small bag. 

“They like you, you know,” the woman mentions, “No one like them would be deciding on which bracelets to buy for that long if they didn’t.” She paused as she was about to place the larger of the two into the small bag, “And look at the size of this one! It’s definitely for you.” 

The Mandalorian nods, “I appreciate that,” he pauses before turning away, “let’s hope they do.”

–

Mando sets a faster pace back to the Crest than the one he took from the Crest to the market. He’s impatient, he can’t wait to walk up the ramp and see your body curled up, comfortable and safe, while you sleep soundly in your bed–if you can even call it that, he thought. You usually went to bed early when he went on hunts, otherwise you would be awake talking to him.

Slipping the bag from his shoulder, an ungloved hand rummaged through the contents searching for a small bag. His fingers found the familiar texture and he pulled it out from between the snacks and the takeout. 

Mando slung the bag back over his shoulder, pulled the larger of the two bracelets out of the small bag, and slipped his hand through the ring of brown, silver, and green. Grabbing one of the ends with his fingers and pinning it to his palm, the other hand tightened the bracelet to a comfortable size around his wrist.

Once the small bag was returned to its place inside of the larger one, Mando peered around him to get a good look of his surroundings. 

The sun was about to set, leaving only a sliver of light available to provide dim light to the landscape. Rocks littered the ground. Shadows from each one making them appear larger in the light of the impending dusk. He reached up and tapped a finger to the temple of his helmet. No living thing was around him.

He paused and set the bag on the ground. Doing one last scan of the area, one of his hands gripped the chin of his helmet and lifted the beskar from his head. The hand held the helmet at his side while he marveled at his wrist.

He caught a good patch of remaining light and watched as the green and silver threads gleamed against the thick brown ones. The bracelet was beautiful. Not only because of the design, but because you picked it out. And it was for him.

Becoming paranoid, the Mandalorian quickly slipped his helmet back onto his head. He waited for the seal of the helmet to engage before continuing back towards the Crest. This time, at an even faster pace.

–

You sat there until you heard heavy footsteps approaching from outside, the hydraulics of the ramp coming to life. Thinking fast, you stood up and made your way towards the fresher to start your nighttime routine.

“Why are you still awake?” Mando’s voice was confused. He stood in front at the top of the ramp with his helmet tilted, hands resting on his hips, but his shoulders were slumped, a bag slung around one. He looked…worried.

Mando was right. Usually when he went on hunts you went to bed early. Nowadays the only thing that kept you awake was him. Talking with him was how you spent most evenings on the Crest, your voices echoed and bounced back to each other in the hull.

He’s used to seeing you curled up on the sleeping pad covered in blankets. Soft breaths came from your body and radiated throughout the Crest. Just like a minute ago, his footsteps would come up the ramp with his bounty in tow. Soft grunts could be heard kitty-corner from your spot in the hull. A hiss of mechanisms as they froze the bounty in carbonite. Then a bit of silence. 

The absence of the carbonite freezing stood out in your mind. No bounty, even when he said he was going to go and find one. Your eyes teared up slightly again as the realization truly set in. Mando really did go to the brothel.

You just wanted this night to be like any other night he came back to the Crest with a bounty.

After the bounty was frozen, heavy footsteps made their way across the floor of the hull. But they always stopped a few paces away from your bed, halting for a moment. Mando would complete his nightly routine. Setting the Crest’s coordinates for the next planet and showering in the fresher if he needed to–he usually did.

No matter what the events of his nightly routine were, it always ended with him standing in the doorway of his bunk–the sound of his footsteps always stopped partially inside.

“Good night, cyar'ika.”

You didn’t know what the Mando’a meant, since Mando never used that word around you, but you knew that the, “good night,” was all you needed to finally fall asleep.

You always waited up for him, only until reasonable hours of the night, of course, but he didn’t know it.

The sound of his footsteps in the present snapped you out of your hazy state. Crying really does a number on your brain.

“Just…couldn’t fall asleep,” you offered him a small smile as you pulled some products out of the tiny fresher cabinet. You wet your face and applied a small amount onto your fingertips, tapping them together for both hands to have the product. As you lifted your face and your hands to the mirror to begin washing your face, you were met with swollen lips, puffy eyes, and slight tear trails dried onto your face, despite the water you just splashed onto it. You froze.

There goes any of your chances to get away with how you spent your night. Staying up late staring at the Crest’s ramp. Waiting for Mando to come home. At least what you thought was home.

“What’s wrong?” Mando’s voice got clearer as he approached the fresher door. His strides long, footsteps clunking, as he removed his leather gloves and tucked the pair into his utility belt.

You went to turn away from him but he got there faster than you could. His ungloved hand rested on your shoulder, grip slow yet firm as he turned you to face him. He rubbed tiny circles onto your skin with his thumb once his eyes beneath the helmet noticed yours.

Your reflection on the silver beskar of his helmet stared back at you. Could you even get away with a lie at this point? What else would have made you cry? It’s not exactly like you could have said the truth either.

Oh yeah, I was sitting here having a panic attack as you participated in a perfectly normal service that is offered on this planet. Then I spiraled and thought about how you might not even want me to be here, that you’ll find another partner to be on this ship with you, and toss me away like none of this meant anything to you.

Mando’s hand waved in front of your face and it brought you back into the present moment. “Did someone come onto the ship while I was gone?” His voice gritted out from the helmet’s modulator. 

“Maker, no,” you huffed and tried to look less suspicious, hoping he’ll just drop the topic.

“Then what is it?” He murmured, his modulator barely picking up his syllables. His wide shoulders took up most of the fresher’s door frame. The grip on your shoulder tightened slightly.

“It’s…I don’t think you’ll want to hear it.” You shrugged and repressed the heat of anxiety creeping down the back of your head. Turning to wash and dry your hands, you let out a sigh and started to walk towards the main open space of the hull. Your shoulder gently bumped him as you slid past his large frame in the doorway. 

Suddenly your hips were being snapped backwards and dragged back towards the fresher. His damn finger was in your belt loop again. 

He pulled you close to him, feeling the heat from his knuckle dig into your hip and spread throughout the rest of your body. His helmet leaned down to look you in the eye and tilted once again.

“Try me,” he paused. He brought his hand up to grip onto the valley where your neck meets your shoulder, slowly enough so you could back away if you so desired. His large palm and thick fingers were calloused and warm. The grip he had on you was still gentle, slightly squeezing. “You know you can tell me, right?”

You let a deep inhale permeate through your lungs. The words flowed through your individual cells. Thoughts of lying escaped your body with each breath. The debate inside your head would end. Whether he had those feelings for you or not.

“I got upset because you went to the brothel.” You told him. Lips trembling and eyes squinted open in an attempt to meet his gaze.

“The brothel?” He held both of your shoulders and brought his visor closer to your face. Thumbs rubbed your shoulders yet again. He sighed as your name left his lips and traveled through his helmet, “I didn’t go to a brothel tonight.” A titled T-shaped gaze met yours. You knew he was looking you in the eyes, and yours into his.

Brows furrowed, you sniffled slightly, “I-, I saw that condoms were on the market receipts.” The thumbs on your shoulders stopped, his chest didn’t rise and fall. He froze. You made Mando freeze. 

“Look I know I’m just being dramatic and paying for that kind of thing is completely normal. I just,” you trailed off and thought of a quick replacement for your worry, “I was worried you would get hurt there.”

Mando’s shoulders fell and his helmet cocked to the side. “What?” He questioned. “How would I get hurt? None of the workers there had weapons.”

“How would you know that if you didn’t go?” You whispered to him. Your gaze left his and it dropped to the shape in the center of his chestplate. The crystal shape rose up and down slowly.

“I got information on a bounty there earlier,” he sounded like he was talking to a hurt animal. Gentle. Slow. Calm. “What's the actual reason you’re upset?” 

Kriff it.

“I had a panic attack because I thought you went to the brothel. Maybe you would like the worker there more than you like me, I spiraled and thought about how you might not even want me to be here, that you’ll find another partner to be on this ship with you,” your chest heaved and as you listed off your previous thoughts of worry. Your hands shook as they landed on top of Mando’s, and you took a deep breath, eyes meeting his gaze like before, “and toss me away like none of this meant anything to you.”

Mando is quick. He flipped his hands to grab one of yours and tugged you into the hull. Kneeling, he opened a cloth bag, one from the market, and dug into it to search for something. 

He actually went to the night market. You thought, now you look so clingy. So needy. He was just going to show you what he got to prove he went.

He turned and held his hand out. Sitting on top of the golden skin on his palm was a bracelet.

The bracelet from the market.

“I saw you looking at these, you looked for a long time and then put them down,” He stood up and set his gait to slow steps as he made his way over to you.

You laughed nervously, accompanied by a small sniffle, “Sorry yeah, I know I just should have been getting the stuff we needed. You didn’t have to go back and get it for-.” Mando raised a finger to halt your speech and continued what he was saying previously, “you put them down. You had two bracelets.”

“They had lots of them that I liked…I had two that were a tie and I just decided to get neither-.” Mando cut you off again.

“You were holding one bracelet consistently and then picked another in a bigger size,” you froze at his words. Dank farrik. Now he was going to think you’re super clingy. 

“I wasn't completely sure who you wanted to wear the bracelet, but I took a guess.” He pulled his long sleeve past his elbow and revealed his bare forearm. Strong. Capable. Solid. And a matching bracelet was donned on his wrist.

Your cheeks radiated with heat as he took your wrist and put your bracelet on you. His warm fingertips brushed the soft skin of your wrist, sending chills throughout your body at the meticulous skin-on-skin contact. 

Once the bracelet was secure around your wrist, Mando dipped his head and looked down at the floor. One of his hands gripped the underside of his helmet, and the other held onto your wrist. Your breath caught in your throat at the gesture. He quickly lifted his helmet to release his mouth, and he pressed three kisses on your wrist where the bracelet was. Mando’s lips were soft and timid, his hand caressing the skin on yours. Silver from his beskar helmet blocked your view, but Mando sealed his helmet and brought his eyes underneath the visor to look into yours.

“This means everything to me.”

Supply Run - Exchange (part three)

[doodle-pops]

Modern AU: Sugar Daddy | My Sugar Daddy Loves Me

Headcanon: Maglor, Finrod, Ecthelion, Thingol, Elrond

Request: Hi Mina I hope you doing well could you please write a part 2 of your sugar daddy au? With Ecthelion, Maglor, Finrod, Elrond and Maeglin - Anon

A/N: Not gonna lie, I had a hard time envisioning Finrod as a sugar daddy since I link those who are Daddy/DILF material as a sugar daddy. He seemed so aloof as a sugar daddy and more like Friends with Benefits lol.

Warnings: a female-focused reader, smut, breeding/creampies

➽ Part 1 | Part 2

➽ Modern AU Series

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ. Maglor

➽ He’s a world-renowned pop star who is beloved by everyone, and you are his lovely darling he met during a backstage meet and greet when he slipped his number into your back pocket and whispered, ‘Call me.’

➽ Of course you called him because that’s how you receive gifts on your doorstep after every performance he has, world tours, or when his albums go platinum. You are the mysterious lover that his fans talk about because of paparazzi.

➽ For the most of your dynamic shared with him, you are kept a secret because, to him, it makes everything more thrilling. All those posts of him on vacation or tours with snips of your hands, legs or back, or the albums being written about you, make everything invigorating.

➽ On the days when he does return from touring, you are showered in affection abundantly. Necklaces and anklets with your name or his name, dozens of roses, lingerie, the latest fashion wear, a lump sum of money floating into your account and some days between the sheets.

➽ Plus, that pretty black credit card in your back pocket feels incredibly heavy with all the financial opportunities it’s allowing you to make. It doesn’t bother him with you swipe his card to make your purchases because he has lots of trust in you (please don’t rob him).

➽ The dynamic between you both differs from the others who would reward you for excelling at your job or studies. With Maglor, he’ll reward you for being silent as he takes you in the recording booth during breaks, support him during his concerts, and when he wins awards.

➽ Apart from dropping all the materialistic gifts on you, Maglor takes him time to worship you from head to toe. You are, after all, the inspiration behind his best-selling albums, and he has inserted your moans as background vocals on some of his songs.

➽ A passion lover you got as a sugar daddy with an oral fixation (best his mouth). He has to show you how talented those lips are; singing isn’t all that he can do with his tongue. Plus, he’s also a guitarist, so let the realisation sink in with those fingers.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ. Finrod

➽ Right off the bat, his type of sugar daddy isn’t for pleasure purposes and it’s the last reason why he was willing to care for you. He just wants someone to spoil and spend lots of time with because he’s rich and lonely in his mansion.

➽ Being spoilt is something you never have to question because he’s eager to be your sugar daddy even though he doesn’t consider himself as one. He’ll just tell you that he’s a good friend helping another friend out while handing you his unlimited credit card and a bunch of gifts.

➽ The adventurous type to call you up in the middle of the night and TELL you that he already booked you all a flight a trip to a tropical island for two weeks filled with various fun activities. The idea that you have classes or work tomorrow doesn’t sink in until you’re reminding him.

➽ It’s a frequent occurrence with him visiting/calling at early hours to check out new places in the city or for you to come over because his giant house is lonely. At some point, you are living in with him and all the maids have become familiar with you.

➽ If you’re a college student, you are funded, and yes, he does have an interest in your academics. However, he’s a lot more understanding if you fail a course because he’s the reason (making you miss classes with those trips); he might suggest dropping out and letting him permanently care for you because he can also get you a decent job without a degree.

➽ As I mentioned, pleasure isn’t something Finrod is interested in during the agreement. That’s something you would have to initiate one night as you’re relaxing in bed or returning from dinner. Take the lead and make him rethink his agreement to incorporate it often and scrap the ‘friends’ talk.

➽ He isn’t someone who becomes stressed, so if anything, you’re the one who’s getting the rough sex when you’re stressed. He is happy to help because if you’re keeping him company, he has to return the favour with an open mind. And trust me when I say, he’s good at what he does but acts casual as if he didn’t strip away your ability to walk.

➽ At least your time being his sugar baby will be fun and filled with excitement, something that outshines the finances and pleasure he blesses you with. His desire for companionship helps to make the dynamic between you two worthwhile.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ. Ecthelion

➽ Responsible for marketing some of the most valuable gemstones around the world; mostly invested in the diamond stock market. The first time you met him and stepped into his house, you noticed how much he was obsessed with the gemstone. You don’t complain because it’s what he gifts you whenever you perform well for him.

➽ He covers all your tuition expenses and living commodities and gives you one of his unlimited credit cards to shop for your heart's desires. In return, you must bring home good grades (he’ll tell you what’s good) and keep up your good reputation. He doesn’t want you to ever tarnish your reputation.

➽ Ecthelion is wealthy and educated, so he doesn’t mind getting involved and invested in your field of work or degree program. Depending on what it is, he’ll extend his knowledge, but if he doesn’t know, he’ll make attempts to get you good connections to boost your career.

➽ So long as you maintain your good grades and reputation, you’re in it for life. He’s taking you vacations to tropical islands, opera shows, shopping sprees, buying you the most expensive jewellery sets and clothes. You will be rocking the best designer clothes, Ecthelion isn’t standing for you wearing simple clothes.

➽ Of course, when you perform excellently for him, he will return the favour with more than just trips and money. He established in the beginning that he was seeking companionship during your deal, and as much as he wanted to keep things professional, something about the red lipstick you adore wearing sucked him in.

➽ Perhaps allowing you to give him a blowjob under the table in his office during a quick visit and leaving lipstick smeared all over his cock made him change his mind about keeping things professional. He was pleased when you agreed to make the relationship more intimate than hugs and kisses.

➽ He wastes no time whenever he’s stressed to relieve himself through you (with your consent). You’re his little stress reliever, and in return, Ecthelion doesn’t mind letting you use him to beat your stress. Sex is rough and steamy between you both. You are getting bent over countertops, work desk, pressed against the wall, he’s hungry beneath his professional demeanour.

➽ While he is a formal and sophisticated gentleman, and he would not touch you inappropriately in public, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t purchase you vibrator panties and plugs. You’re sitting beside him during a conference meeting and he’s causally playing with the speed on his phone, making you cum.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ. Thingol

➽ This sugar daddy is drifting over to the DILF side of things and do not be fooled by his silver hair, he isn’t old, he’s simply trendy and into the latest fashion styles. Giovani, Armani, Dior, Marco Polo, Ralph Lauren and the list goes on. Thingol is an old-money type of sugar daddy, and he adores showing off his wealth to you.

➽ To be honest, Thingol really want to be your sugar daddy because he saw you and liked you. At the time, you were a broke college student or young worker struggling in the business world who used the opportunity he was providing to build your career and status.

➽ Thingol doesn’t care about all that (at first), but he does ensure all your needs and desires are met. Tuitions paid, loans cleared, no negative credit score or empty bank account. You’re the rich student on campus or your job that everyone is jealous of because he makes sure the world knows you’re spoilt by rolling up in some custom Rolls Royce or Bently.

➽ Your unlimited credit cards weigh a ton in your pocket, but who cares because you’re rich and being pampered as you deserve? Of course, nothing in life comes for free and without payment. Thingol might carry some age because he has a fully grown child, but he isn’t old.

➽ He makes it clear that he would enjoy being intimate and seeking companionship in return for the wealth spent on you. Do you decline, of course not (you can’t, or you’ll end up poor again).

➽ Thingol is the definition of old is the new young. This man has the stamina to last for a lifetime and makes sure you’re always satisfied. He can be stingy and demand that you give him more attention (he’s a receiver more than a giver). You’ll have to catch him in the right mood for him to be on the giving end.

➽ But still, you can’t complain because you’re getting good dic—. Anyway speaking of spoiling you, he adores whenever you’re completely decked out in lingerie for him, i.e. just all the jewellery he bought for you and nothing else.

➽ He does have a slight breeding kink, but it isn’t intending to want children, so you have nothing to worry about. Thingol just enjoys the sight of prettying his sugar baby.

➽ Know that he’ll gift you some necklace or ring that informs everyone that you’re his and no one else’s. If you ask him if it means he’s proposing, he’ll reply with something along the lines of, “You’re already mine princess, wedding ring or not.”

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ. Elrond

➽ DILF number three and it makes perfect sense since he’s a descendant of many DILFs (Fingolfin, Turgon, Thingol). But Elrond doesn’t mind being someone’s sugar daddy, though his intentions are more for genuine purposes. If you want more, you’re gonna have to do all the work to show him that it’s more than paying your tuition and giving you money.

➽ Nevertheless, he covers all your expenses and demands that you perform excellently in your field of study or job. Elrond would even go out of his way to personally teach you (and no, I don’t mean bending you over the desk type of teaching) to ensure success is at your fingertips.

➽ This man is the most passionate and dedicated sugar daddy who cares about your well-being to a great extent. He’s well-rounded, so he’s fulfilling all your needs and wants, health, education, finances, basic commodities and living expenses. Please don’t disappoint him by failing your classes, he’s pulling all his money into the best tutors.

➽ In return for your devotion and passion for excellence, you are getting spoiled but not like the others. Elrond doesn’t mind giving you money or taking you on shopping sprees or trips around the world, he simply doesn’t want you dependent dependent on him to always provide since he’s building you up to become your own boss and financially secure.

➽ He’ll spoil, but not to that extent. Such a philosophical man, teaching all about life and how to be independent and headstrong.

➽ Now, as I’ve previously mentioned, if you want him to take you to bed, impressions are everything. Elrond’s the type to get impressed by your sense of elegance, sophistication and linguistics. Show him how skilled your tongue is, and he’ll be wanting more. No doubt he’s rewriting the contract in his mind.

➽ He has kids and knows how to ramp in between the sheets. In his state, he probably isn’t interested in more given his desire for companionship, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t going to be giving out creampies. The sight of it is his catalyst for wanting to give you more and keep you up all night.

➽ He’s a gentleman in the streets and will incapacitate you in the sheets. Tricks up his sleeves despite having an old fashion appeal about him. Give him a dance dressed in some pretty lingerie—nothing overly fancy, he likes elegance and simplicity—while he sips on whisky or brandy in a button-down shirt and his tie lazily discarded around his neck.

➽ Treat him well because running multiple companies is tiring, so relieve his stress while he relieves yours and you’ll be the happiest sugar baby ever.

Masterlist

Taglist: @lilmelily @ranhanabi777 @mysticmoomin @rain-on-my-umbrella @asianbutnotjapanese @batsyforyou @ladyenchanted @mcwentfandomtraveling @involuntaryspasms @aconstructofamind @addaigio

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[emberfrostlovesloki]

Baby Fever [Emily x Reader]

Photo Credits Left and Right (@meditando-en-paris) Center (@emily12o1970)

Prompt: The reader asks Emily if she wants to have a baby together. While this is a surprise, Emily has a little question of her own for the reader.

Pairing: [established relationship] Emily x Non-BAU!reader. The Reader uses she/her pronouns 

Category: fluff/comfort

Word Count: 6.8K

Content Warnings: Slight angst, talk of getting pregnant, food and alcohol are mentioned, implied intimacy, discussion of politics. If I missed any, please let me know.  

A/N: Hi all! I’m so sorry it’s been a while since I’ve posted any fics in a while. The end of the semester has been wildly busy. However, I return with an Emily fic for @imagining-in-the-margins March and April writing challenge. I made my own prompt that is, a member of the couple isn’t sure they’ll make a good parent; they are reassured by a friend that they will be perfect. This is a continuation of my Moschino and Muddy Water series. You can find parts one, two, three, and four here (linked) You can read this as a stand-alone as well, you just need to know the reader works for a senator. This story kind of humbled me and challenged me as it took a long time to write and I needed to do lots of edits on it. But that is a good reminder for me. Writing can be hard, but it is worth the result to see you can come what you can come up with. If you enjoy this fic, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! Love Levi - ❤️

List with all stories 

y/n = your name 

y/s/t = your skin tone 

_y/f/s_ = your favorite scent

Emily walked into the living room of her apartment. y/n and she had recently repainted it a neutral beige that Derek had described as “sad sand” at brunch with Penelope, Spencer, JJ, and Will last month. y/n had nearly choked on her drink as he made the remark. It had been y/n’s idea to repaint their space to a more relaxing color. When y/n had suggested it, Emily had said, “Oh, what brought this on lover? Wasn’t it you last week who mentioned the security deposit on this place?” Em liked teasing y/n about these things because y/n was always a little more impulsive about things. Their dynamic remained light despite the hectic nature of their jobs. The ability to relax and joke in their off time kept both y/n and Prentiss sane. However, they were good at reading each other, most of the time. When things felt heavy or the job was pushing them to the edge of a breakdown, the jokes and teasing went out the window. 

Only once had y/n made a joke in poor taste about a case that Emily had not yet fully described, and the tall brunette had snapped. y/n had looked at her girlfriend with shock. Prentiss never spoke to her in this tone nor with the angry expression she had on her face. The silence in the room after Emily's outburst was deafening. Emily instantly felt guilty for how she had reacted. Prentiss cleared her throat and tried to apologize, but y/n said, “Save it. I need a minute.” y/n had moved back to their room and closed the door, and burst into tears. ‘A minute’ turned out to be a long sleepless night for the couple. y/n tossed and turned and wondered if she was overreacting and what she had missed about Emily when she came in with her go-bag. She had seemed fine to y/n as she came in with a smile and normal attitude. Meanwhile on the couch, Emily wondered why she had reacted with such venom. y/n was only trying to lighten the mood, and she hadn’t said how horrible she felt. If she had, Emily knew y/n would hug her and kiss her and make her feel better inside of cracking a joke. Prentiss sat up and looked out the open window onto to the street as a few cars drove by. Emily wondered what brought those driving out so late. Who were they and where they were going? She wondered if they were happy. She slumped back into the couch cushions and missed the warmth of y/n’s snuggled up in front of her and the cool feel of their sheets over them. 

In the morning, both Em and y/n had gotten up at the same time. Prentiss moved into their room which she found unlocked. y/n looked up at her. Em could see that she had been crying and the lack of sleep on y/n’s face. Before Prentiss could say anything, y/n stated, “I’m sorry, Emily. I’m sorry for how I acted. Immature and like a child. You didn’t deserve that.” Emily dropped her head and replied, “I’m sorry too. It was wrong of me to shout at you like that. You were just trying to make me happy.” y/n swallowed and said, “I was, but I must have been missing something. Would you tell me about the case, or what caused you to act like that?” 

Prentiss nodded and sat down on the edge of the bed taking y/n’s hand in hers. “Yes. Let me explain. Thank you for giving me the time and care to listen.” After a long conversation, the pair set up some boundaries about not keeping things inside after cases for Emily and taking time to check in after she got home for y/n. y/n knew Emily had been acting okay, but in reality, she wasn't. y/n noted that if she was in Emily’s shoes, she might want to laugh after work and a case and y/n thought Emily might feel the same way. So after they had talked and kissed and made up, they both felt a bit crusty and decided to take a shower together. 

It felt wonderful as Emily’s strong hands moved down her y/s/t’ed shoulders and back. The soap suds moved down y/n’s back and Prentiss rubbed them over her lush behind and thighs. y/n sighed into the touch. When Emily had finished rinsing y/n off, y/n turned and had Em face the water. y/n placed a dollop of her shampoo that smelled of rose and juniper berry in her palm. Prentiss smiled as y/n’s fingers brushed through her silky dark strands of hair massaging her scalp and then making sure that all of her locks were coated in shampoo before turning Em to rinse off her shoulder-length hair. After a few more minutes the water started running tepid, and y/n and Emily got out and dried off. They spent the rest of the Saturday morning lounging around and getting coffee from the fancy place two blocks over. It felt lovely to be back and not have an argument hanging over them. As y/n opened the door for Prentiss, she thought about how they worked together. They had their moments and arguments like any couple, but all in all, they were steady. It seemed that steady was something new to both of them, and it made them happy and secure in one another. It had made y/n so happy and secure that it had got her thinking about roots, about the future. 

A few weeks later, y/n woke up early and realized that Emily was up. She snapped her laptop shut. The sound had Em turn around and look at y/n with just a hint of concern in her dark eyes. y/n smiled and got out of her seat saying, “Good morning, baby. How did you sleep?” Emily’s face broke into a soft smile and she replied, “I slept well. I love it when you’re the big spoon. It makes me sleep like a baby.” y/n got up and wrapped Em in a hug and whispered in her ear, “Well, I’ll have to do that more often then.” y/n inhaled her smell and tried to hide the blush on her face before pulling back and saying, “Do you want some breakfast and coffee? Or maybe a mimosa. I feel like cooking something if you want.” Prentiss nodded and said, “I think I could go for some blueberry or chocolate chip waffles if you’re down to make them.” y/n nodded and replied, “Of course. What are we feeling for drinks?” Em let out a small laugh and said, “Well, how about I make us lattes and you pop open some prosecco? We’ve still got juice in the fridge too. I’ll get the glasses.” y/n nodded knowing that Emily didn’t like popping corks --  a quirk that y/n thought was so cute. Em turned away to get the fluted glasses for the mimosas and while her back was turned she considered how y/n had been acting the last few days. It was like she was holding some secret. When y/n’s computer was in front of her, y/n always seemed to close it quickly or move it so she couldn’t see the screen. It wasn’t only that. Sometimes she was on the phone and talking quietly to someone she didn’t know. The pit in Emily’s stomach grew. And yet when she looked back at y/n who was humming her new favorite song while pulling eggs out from the middle row of the fridge. 

This was so unlike y/n to hide things from her. When it had first happened, Emily thought that maybe y/n was cheating but that wasn’t something that y/n would do unless she had really misread her girlfriend and their relationship wasn’t going anywhere. This bothered Prentiss because she was planning on asking y/n to marry her in a month on their second anniversary. Even if things weren’t good with them, which y/n’s behavior indicated otherwise, Prentiss was uncomfortable with y/n hiding things from her. Em had a good way of feeling out people, and y/n had seemed more excited to be with her recently, so all of the messages both verbal and nonverbal were throwing her for a loop. Prentiss was going to talk to JJ and Penelope about it on Monday to see if they had any insight into what was going on. At this point, y/n and the rest of the girls on the BAU were thick as blood. Em took a breath and decided to not let her self-doubt ruin their relationship. She had let that happen before, and even though it had turned out to be a good thing, Emily didn’t want to do that here. She loved y/n, and she knew y/n loved her. If y/n needed to tell her something, Emily knew she would, even if it was something difficult to hear. Prentiss fixed her face and took a breath before setting the glasses on the counter for y/n who leaned in and gave her a kiss before she moved to the coffee maker. 

y/n started mixing up the waffle batter. y/n didn’t like keeping things from Emily, but this was such a big subject to even bring up, and she wanted to have all of the facts beforehand. Not so that she could try and argue her point with Emily, but so she was sure it was what she wanted. But the more y/n looked at their options of getting pregnant, the firmer y/n was about her desire to start a family with Em. It was a conversation they had had before. A shared desire to have kids and raise them in a house full of love and tenderness that neither y/n nor Emily had had as children growing up on opposite sides of the globe. So the topic of wanting kids wouldn’t be a shock, just how quickly y/n was bringing it up. And if Emily said she needed more time, y/n would wait, but she couldn’t deny that her baby fever was growing thanks to JJ’s pregnancy and some recent laws passing. The whole idea made y/n’s stomach flutter in both delight and worry. Thankfully y/n was almost ready to tell Em, and again there would be no secrets to hold, just a future to plan, whatever that looked like for them. 

         The following Monday at work, Emily found Penelope in her office with its room full of screens and trinkets. Prentiss smiled at how Garcia’s personality shone through wherever she was. Em found the tech whizz inspirational in that way and many others. Garcia was busy typing something on her laptop and Emily had called her name twice already. Without any other options apart from pulling the plug on one of Penelope's babies, Emily tapped her on the shoulder instead. The genius shot out of her seat and Prentiss was eternally grateful that Gacria wasn’t holding one of her large cups of soda. “My God Emily, are you trying to get me out of my skin?” Penelope retorted when she had caught her breath. Em smiled and said, “It was that, or pull the plug on your computer. I thought you’d appreciate the latter. I did call your name twice.” Garcia let out a shaky laugh and said, “Okay, well lord, I have to stop listening to music so loud when I’m at work. Hotch got mad at me for it once already and somehow he’s always right because I don’t want to be scared like that again. So what brings you to my cave today dear? Need me to cast a love spell on you?” Prentiss laughed and replied, “Well I’m okay on that front. A clarification spell might be more in order. Are you back on the RPG game again?” Garcia blushed and said, “Maybe, maybe not. Anyhow, does the team need my presence?” Em nodded her head no, sat down on the ledge of Penelope's table, and said, “Not right now. I was just wondering if y/n had talked to you recently. She’s been acting kind of strange in the last three weeks and I just wanted to know if she has something planned?” 

Penelope was buzzing in her seat because she had an answer but had promised y/n that she wouldn’t say anything to Emily about it. y/n had discreetly asked around the office if anyone knew someone who had IVF treatments before and would be willing to talk candidly about the process, how much it cost, and the pros and cons of the procedure. The only other person who did know someone who had gone through In Vitro Fertilization was Rossi, but Dave didn’t think that person would want to discuss such an intimate part of their lives with a stranger, even if it was a friend of his. However, Penelope had a good friend named Shayla back from her college days who was now a happy single mom and had moved to the Virginia area last year for a new job with her little boy. y/n had met Shayla once before, and when Garcia brought her up as a possibility, y/n almost begged her to ask Shayla if she was comfortable talking about the long process. When Pen brought it up in their next catch-up call, Shayla happily agreed to share her knowledge. She had done plenty of research before deciding to move forward with having a child on her own, understood the great sacrifice and fears that could come with it, and was happy to give any helpful information she had. Of course, this conversation had prompted Penelope to ask y/n why she was asking and y/n had revealed that she was thinking of asking Emily to have a baby with her. Garcia had freaked out, jumping up and down in excitement. y/n had to stop her from running out of the room and shouting at anyone that her friend was getting pregnant. Once the blonde analyst had settled down, y/n took a breath and said, “Now Penelope. I know you’re excited but I’m just in the research stage which sounds calculated when I put it like that, I haven’t told Emily about this yet and I need to be sure I feel confident before I spring this on her. Could you please please, please not tell her?” Garcia nodded seriously and said, “My lips are sealed. I pinky promise.” y/n let out a sigh of relief. 

But as Garcia was faced with Emily now, it wasn’t as easy as telling y/n her secret was safe. It was threatening to burst out of her seams and she needed to come up with an excuse fast or risk losing a dear friend in y/n. Penelope cleared her throat and said, “Hey, Em. I kinda stayed up all night playing that game and well as you can see I’m running numbers for Stan’s team….” She gave her best pleading eyes that seemed to work on everyone. Prentiss let out a soft laugh and replied, “Alright, What flavor do you want grape, Cola, or orange?” Pen smiled brightly and said, “Orange, please. You are a lifesaver!” Emily patted her on the top of her blond head and said, “Well just hope Hotch or JJ doesn’t call a new case while I’m gone. You should get someone to install controls or something on your system at home to stop you from staying up twenty-four-seven.” Garica scoffed, looked at Emily’s retreating form, and said, “Baby, if anyone could crack into my harddrive, I’d let them.” As Emily moved out of the office and toward the 7-11 to get Penelope’s soda, she felt relieved. Not that she fully believed nothing was happening with y/n, but if the team hadn’t noticed anything, then, it made her feel better. Once Emily was out of sight, Penelope whipped out her phone and texted y/n: “Emily is asking questions, baby girl. I’d start thinking about asking her soon or she might find out what you’re doing.” 

The week moved by quickly with lots of paperwork for Emily and the start of a new campaign cycle for y/n who moaned about it as much as possible without being annoying to Em. It didn’t help that the senator y/n worked with had gotten themselves into another scandal that was rocking their office and party. When y/n was going on a rant about corruption on Friday night Emily hugged her from behind, kissed her temple, and said, “I’m sorry sweetheart. I know it’s annoying, but you're good at your job even if it’s a bad system. But that doesn’t make you bad.” y/n relaxed into Prentiss’s embrace. y/n let out a sigh and said, “I’m sorry for going off. I know it’s annoying.” Emily nuzzled her face into y/n’s neck to relax her further as she whispered, “Don’t apologize y/n. Work can be agonizing sometimes, I know that as much as anyone. If it bothers me I'll tell you. Now, how about we do something fun tomorrow? We could get brunch at that place we like in midtown. You know the place where you asked me out officially?” y/n’s face broke out into a smile and she said, “I’d love that Em. Sorry if I’ve been a little distant right now. I’ve been thinking about some things and I want to share them with you in the morning. It’s nothing bad or anything, but something I just want to discuss with you. You’re everything to me love, and I’m so happy we’re together.” Prentiss’s heart fluttered knowing that y/n was finally going to tell her what was going on. Her words were reassuring, that it ‘wasn't’ bad’ or ‘anything bad about her,’ but even so, her nerves sang inside as they both headed to bed. 

In the morning, y/n woke up slightly early for a Saturday and got into a hot shower. She washed her body in _y/f/s_ed body wash. She then moved to her hair and shampooed and conditioned it. Lastly y/n shaved so her legs were smooth. When she stepped out of the shower, Emily was up. y/n walked into their room in a towel, and Em looked up from the bed, Her brown eyes got wider and she said, “Well, good morning, love?” y/n smiled and said, “Morning sweetheart.” y/n dropped her towel, and lazily crawled on the bed. Emily followed her with her eyes and her tongue slipped out of her mouth and wetted her lower lip subconsciously. y/n grinned and moved over Emily’s body and kissed her gently at first and then with more passion. Em snaked her hands around y/n’s hips. Once y/n’s tongue was slipped into Emily’s mouth, her fingers moved to y/n’s hair and tugged it gently at the root. After y/n and Prentiss were desperate for air, y/n pulled away and moved onto her knees before saying, “Maybe we should get dressed or we’ll miss brunch sweetheart.” Emily whined and said, “Do we have to?” y/n laughed and replied, “I think so. I’m in need of a good mimosa and waffle. Plus, we can get right back to this when we get back if we want.” Emily sat up and brushed her thumb over y/n’s jaw before saying, “Alright love. Give me a few minutes to get ready and we can go. It’s good if we go sooner though because you know how crazy that place gets after 11:00.” y/n nodded in agreement as she moved to the closet to pick out a spring dress and some matching jewelry while Emily used the bathroom and vanity to get ready. Emily chose a pink jumpsuit that fit her curves perfectly and was strapless showing off her lovely shoulders and neck. 

y/n and Emily got to the restaurant before the big rush and were seated outside at a quiet corner table surrounded by a fence and hedge that gave the space a cool and calm feeling away from the bustle inside and the rush of cars outside. A waiter came and got their drink orders and while he was there, Emily and y/n also ordered pain au chocolat. Emily got a glass of white wine and y/n got a pomegranate mimosa, and they both got coffee. The lean man noted what they wanted and moved away. The wait time at this spot was longer giving people time to relax and talk. y/n looked at Emily wondering if she should start the conversation. Emily returned y/n’s smile, her face looking radiant in the glow of the midmorning sun. Prentiss shifted in her seat and said, “You’ve been looking so happy the last few days. Whatever it is you have to tell me I just want to say I’m so happy to see you like this. I wish every day could be like this. That there wasn’t the stress or worry of our jobs looming over us. But you make me feel safe and seen every day, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.” 

Once Emily said the words aloud, the idea in her head sprang so full and bright that she felt like she might be bowled over by a small breeze. The idea had been there for a few months but she hadn’t planned it. Certainly hadn’t even dreamed of it being like this, but it felt so right. When she looked over at y/n who was clearly saying something, Emily thought for a brief moment that she might be looking at the sun, blinding it it’s light and radiance. Prentiss cleared her throat and mind and finally heard y/n repeat, “Are you alright darling? You were in your own world there for a second.” Emily nodded now knowing what she was going to do and said, “Yeah I’m good. I just had an idea. So I suppose I have something to tell you too. But you go first. What was it you were wanting to tell me today that you’ve been so secretive about?” y/n blushed and felt better now that they both were going to say something, though she had no idea what Emily had up her sleeve. y/n replied, “Well why don’t you go first.” Prentiss shot back teasingly, “No you first.” They repeated this one more time before they both blurted out at the same time: 

“I want to have a baby with you.” 

“I want to marry you.” 

When Emily and y/n both registered what the other had said they were stunned into silence. y/n felt her chest tighten with emotions that threatened to bubble over. She composed herself first and asked in awe, “Emily Prentiss, are you proposing to me right now?” Emily took a shallow breath in at what y/n had said about wanting a baby and y/n’s question and, she said, “I am, sweetheart. It just felt right right now. I don’t want to spend another day without you being mine in the most real way possible. Time just goes by so fast and as soon as we know it we’ll both be grey and have bad knees. We’re both gone so often from each other so I’d like you to be mine if you’re willing to be. y/n, will you marry me?” Emily got out of her chair and onto one knee. Again she was glad they were in a quieter part of the restaurant. y/n nodded her head yes and fell to her knees next to Em embracing her in a hug and saying, “Yes, Oh of course I will. I love you so much, I want my whole life with you.” They both stayed there for a moment on the brick floor before Emily raised her head from y/n’s shoulder wiping her own eyes of the salty liquid at her corneas before pulling back and helping y/n to her feet. They hugged properly with a tight embrace that said they would never be apart for longer than they had to be, and even when they were apart, they would still be together. Em pulled back and said, “I’m sorry I don’t have a ring for you, but it just felt right to ask you now. I promise I’ll get you one that’s just perfect.” y/n smiled and said, “I know whatever you pick out will be perfect love.” She leaned in and planted her mouth on Emily’s and they both let go of each other with a feeling of lightness and ecstasy that neither had expected this morning in bed. Just as they both sat down, the waiter returned with their pastries and drinks on a tray. He set all the plates and glasses down and said he’d be back in a bit to see if they needed anything else. 

Once he had gone, y/n and Emily raised their glasses to their engagement and y/n said, “To the best fiance I could ever ask for!” As they clinked glasses Em added, “And to my favorite person in the whole world.” They both took sips of their drinks and what y/n had said resurfaced to the front of Prentiss’s mind after the euphoria of y/n saying yes to her proposal dimmed slightly. Em leaned forward and asked, “y/n you want to have a baby?” y/n flushed and nodded sheepishly. Suddenly talking to Emily about this made her feel nervous. With a steadying breath y/n replied, “Not just a baby Em. I want to have your baby. I’ve been researching reciprocal IVF. Looking up what the procedure is like for both parties, how expensive it is, and where there are clinics nearby that we could visit and consult with. I even went as far as talking to some people who’ve done it before to see how their experience was for them. That’s what I’ve been researching for the last few weeks. And I know this sounds so fast. Like I’m rushing. I don’t mean to pressure you into making a choice now or next week or month or even year. I just want you to know that I’d love to build a life with you. A life that might include children in the future if that’s something you're interested in. I just wanted to have all the facts I could about what that would possibly be like before springing something this big on you” Emily absorbed the information and took a sip of her drink. She said with a smile, “Look at you doing your research. Not that you don’t research, but I think we’re rubbing off on each other. You’re making me more comfortable in making big moves like proposing while I’m making you research a topic as much as possible.” y/n laughed and said, “Well, I guess that makes us pretty compatible, huh.” Emily chuckled and continued to think about what y/n had just said. 

It wasn’t something they had talked about recently, but children was a topic of discussion they had had and it made Emily relieved to know that y/n left that secure in their relationship that it was something she was seriously thinking about. Now that they were engaged, it only made more sense, even though y/n couldn’t have known that coming into today. For a moment Emily pictured y/n cradling their baby, and then a toddler running around their apartment, and the child grown up and going off to school. Prentiss pulled herself from the film playing in her head. As lovely an image as it was, it was a lot to think about. She lifted her eyes up to y/n’s nervous gaze. Prentiss moved her right hand to y/n’s and held it across the table saying, “I think that’s a beautiful idea y/n. It is a lot to think about. I do appreciate that you’re comfortable enough to tell me something that’s really important to you. Would you mind if I give it some time to think through?” y/n squeezed Emily’s palm and replied, “Take all the time you need love. There’s no rush.” Prentiss felt a surge of warmth move through her not associated with the fact that she was sitting in the sun. Having someone as passionate and who understood her so well was the best thing that could have happened to her. Emily did wonder if something had prompted y/n into her desire for children. She’d never been one to have baby fever before now and the shift was interesting to her. 

Emily watched y/n sip her drink and relax in her chair a bit. Prentiss asked, “Sweetheart, what sparked your desire for kids if anything? Or did it just sort of happen?” y/n sighed and said, “It’s been coming for a while I think, but things have made it speed up for me I suppose.” Emily nodded her head as if to say, “Keep going, love.” y/n placed her palms flat on the table and continued, “I guess that so much crazy stuff has been happening in the country recently. I know you know that. We both do as we work in the government, but the upturning of Roe V. Wade and all the crazy abortion bans popping up all over the place. I suppose I just don’t want to be too late. Like one day we both decided it was time and by then we didn’t even have that option. I don’t mean to sound melodramatic or to push you in any way, we have time, it’s just made me prioritize some things in my life that I hadn’t given too much thought to before now. I mean if Alabama can almost stop IVF then I’m afraid of what might come after that. I suppose having a child became more important to me the more things like that happen here.” 

Emily gave a soft smile, she could more fully see where y/n was coming from and it made sense with her personality. Em moved her hand across the table and stroked her cheek gently before saying, “That makes sense darling. I’m going to have to think about it for a while before we do anything, but maybe when we get home, you can tell me a bit more about the process, and the cost. If we commit to something like this we’re going to need to be saving for some time.” y/n chuckled and said, “Take all the time you need darling. We can save money for that and a wedding too.” Emily paused and said, “Do you mind if I don’t tell the team right away about the engagement? I just want to get a ring and have it be a bit more put together because once I tell them, we’re going to be swamped with questions from JJ, Garcia, and Rossi.” y/n snorted and covered her mouth at how accurate Emily was. She could picture that conversation happening and how Garica would pounce on Em and then how she’d get ten calls for Penelope and then some texts and another call from Dave congratulating her. Since y/n had gotten to know the team more, Rossi had become a father figure which made her heart warm. y/n replied, “Yes, of course sweetheart. That will be a day to remember. Almost as exciting as getting to say yes to you Mrs. Prentiss.” 

Shortly after this their waiter came back and got them a second round of drinks and they ordered some plates to share. The weekend flew by as always, and Emily showed up at Quantico with an excited air about her. The team slowly rolled into the bullpen on work days like they normally did. Em and JJ passed through security at the same time, and JJ who was now very pregnant asked Prentiss, “You seem preoccupied today. Is something up?” Emily tried to stay cool and said, “Nope, well apart from the fact that y/n and I had a late night last night.” Em gave JJ a wink and JJ shot her a sly smile replying, “Well that would make you pretty tired I suppose.” Emily laughed and the two women moved up to their floor. Prentiss hadn’t been lying about y/n and her last night. They’d spent a few pleasurable hours both in the shower and the bed solidifying their bond. Telling one truth and omitting two others felt better than a flat-out lie. Emily was a mix of emotions today and it did make her feel and perhaps look different which she was trying to hide. She was incredibly happy about the unofficial engagement but nervous about y/n’s question. It was more than a question, it was a whole new part of their life if they pursued it. Emily spent a good deal of the morning telling Spencer and Penelope that nothing was wrong and that she was fine but tired. Even Aaron gave her a look saying that he knew something was up. But Hotch didn’t always have the time for gossip and he trusted and knew Em enough that if she was having a serious problem, she could come to him anytime night or day. By lunch time, Prentiss felt a little bit more emotionally drained than she had coming into work. She hardly noticed Derek sneak in behind her to use the microwave when her leftover pasta was finished reheating. 

Morgan said over the hum of the microwave, “So you told Spence and Garcia everything is fine and you gave Hotch that look that it’s all cool and they left you alone, but you're one of the most put-together people on the team and something is off. Keeping secrets is a burden and I’d think you’d like at least one person to know what’s playing in your mind on repeat. Listen if we go on a case or something then it might make you slower. Would you please tell me what’s going on? I won’t tell anyone else. You know I’m also good at keeping a secret.” Derek’s appearance startled Emily, and she jumped at his first few words but calmed quickly as she listened more intently to what he was saying. She bit the inside of her lip. The problem was she knew Derek was right and somehow that bothered her. However, Morgan would be as good a person to tell as any. Their bond was strong, but not as interwoven as the rest of the team. And he was good at keeping quiet. Prentiss deflated slightly and decided to be honest with Derek saying, “Okay but this stays between us, please?” Morgan nodded his consent and indicated for Em to continue. Emily thought of the proposal but knew the issue that was bugging her was what she should say. Finally, she stated, with a slow caution, “y/n wants to have a baby with me.” 

That response was far from what Derek had been expecting, and he blinked a few times just to ensure he’d heard correctly. Slowly a smile crept to his face replying, “That’s amazing, Em!” Emily nodded lightly and Derek was confused as to why she wasn’t showing the same joy he was. He cleared his throat lightly and asked, “Do you not want that Emily?” Prentiss let out a long sigh and said what she’d been thinking about since last night: “I do think I want kids in time. And y/n and I have talked about that before now. We talked about it before we became serious.” Derek was confused by her hesitation and asked, “Is y/n like, rushing you into this?” Emily nodded no and replied, “No not at all. She knows me too well for that. She did a bunch of research beforehand and told me there wasn’t any rush. And also that if kids wasn’t something I was interested in she and I could talk about it.” This reply left Derek even more confused and he scratched the back of his head. Finally, Morgan asked, “So, why are you upset exactly?” Em came out with it and said, “What if I’m a bad mom? I can see y/n being the most loving and caring parent in the world, but my track history with my mother just doesn’t indicate that I’m going to be that competent a parent.” 

When Emily got to the point of contention, Derek couldn’t help but chuckle, and Prentiss lightly slapped his board arm and said, “Don’t laugh at me, Morgan.” Derek managed to stop his chuckling and say, “I’m mainly laughing at your wording, Em. I don’t think any parent would say they are ‘competent.’ And if you’re going to question me on that, ask Hotch if he thinks he’s a competent parent with Jack or JJ with her baby. I swear no one has it all figured out.” Emily was still hesitant and Derek continued, “Emily no matter what you decide it’s going to be the right thing. I know you and y/n won’t jump into anything, but if you ask me, I think you’ll make a fantastic parent.” Emily could tell that Morgan was no longer joking and she asked, “Why do you say that?” She was genuinely curious to hear how he would answer. Morgan leaned against the wall and replied, “Well you could just call it intuition, but the other sign to me is how in tune with yourself and y/n you are. You notice things about everyone, especially y/n. If you decide to have a kid together that will be the most loved child ever. You may not have it all figured out, but with how much you care about each other, I know you and y/n will figure out the rest. You’ll be a great Mom Em.” Emily felt her heart warm slightly and the original image of a child running around her and y/n’s apartment, or the park, or a variety of other idyllic scenes came back in a rush. She knew this wasn’t always going to be the reality, but she felt encouraged and replied to Morgan, “Thanks, Derek. I appreciate that. And thanks for letting me ramble.” Derek smiled again and was happy to see Emily happy. He said, “You got it Em. And my lips are sealed.” Emily felt much better the rest of the day having one person know what she was thinking about. It helped so much that after she had talked about it, she found it much easier to work. 

It was a few weeks later as Prentiss had found the right ring for y/n, and she and y/n had talked about breaking that set of news to the team that Emily came up behind y/n who was standing at the kitchen counter. Prentiss hugged y/n gently from behind and said softly in her ear, “y/n, I want to try. I want to try for a baby with you.” y/n froze and then turned around slowly in Emily’s arms and said, “Really?” Emily nodded and replied, “Really baby. I want some time before we go for it, but I want to be with you.” y/n felt her eyes well with tears of happiness. Her life had felt so empty and barren before she met Emily. Now life felt so full. She was getting married to the best woman ever, and they were planning a family. A lot was yet to come in their journey, but for now, everything was perfect. As the tears started rolling, y/n mouthed, “I love you so, so much Emily,” as she leaned in with her tear-stained face and kissed Em with all the love she could give. Emily wrapped her arms around y/n and kissed her back. Yes, time went quickly, but together they would make the most of every minute there was between them and the family they were planning.

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Blue Lock NSFW Audios p2

✩⸝⸝{🍙} Bllk x Reader/Listener Part 2! ♡﹗🗞

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1. he was jealous during a date with at the club, you were all over other guys. He thought to teach you a little lesson. [Mdom] [Fsub] [Jealous sex] [Oral M!receive] [Slut calling] [wall sex] [Daddy] by: twoface

2. you want a nice cuddle with your dom and he has a drink you want to try. but it escalates to something more. [Fingering] [Nipple play] [Sit on my lap] [Gentle MDom] [Consent Checks] [Aftercare] by: TigerNextDoor

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1. While being stuck in a storm the power is out, and your best friend is staying with you because he has no heat in his apartment. He confesses he might have thought about you while he jerked off, this leads to something more... [Soft MDom] [Switchy] [Friends to Lovers] [Mutual Masturbation] [Exhibitionism] [Degradation] [Praise] [Cum Eating] [Snowed In] [Sleepover] by: alot-of-Axolotl

2. You invited your ex to your wedding however he has other plans... [Gentle Mdom] [Cheating] [Bittersweet] [Emotional] [Jealousy] [Praises] [Hand job] [PIV] [Breeding] [Creampie]. by: yoursweetfantasy 

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