#not beta'ed sorry the mess:))))

[tropes-and-tales]

It's That Simple

Day 16:  Praise Kink (Bob Floyd x F!Reader)

(For the 2023 Kinktober event that I created on my own because I am boring and basic and am trying to keep it simple this year...found here!) 

CW:  Light angst, kinda (Bob gets deflated); talk of panic attacks and self-doubt; smut (handjob); 18+ only.

Word Count:  5656

AN:  This was requested by an anon!

AN2: If you've been around a bit, you know the drill: this isn't edited or re-read or beta'ed.

It’s another terrible first date.

Bob struggles to even snag a first date.  He’s unassuming; he lacks the swagger and extroversion to stroll up to a woman and talk her up.  Most of his dates are obtained from other members of the Daggers—double dates, set-ups, stuff like that.

The latest one was set up by Fanboy, a friend of his sister.  Within moments of meeting his date, Bob knows it’ll be a mess:  she makes a face when she greets him at the door, and it goes downhill from there.

It ends when she gets a text.  An emergency, she tells him, and Bob is too smart and perceptive to buy the lie.  But he’s a gentleman, so he nods seriously and offers to drive her home or wherever she’s needed, which she declines.  He pays the bill of their abortive dinner, and he pretends not to notice how his date practically skips out of the restaurant and into the waiting car of a friend.

He should go home to lick his wounds.  Another failed date, another night alone.  He sees the stretch of his life in front of him and despairs that he’ll ever meet someone, and he should go home to sulk, but he goes to the Hard Deck instead.

He might as well break the news to Fanboy, at least, and maybe Nat can cheer him up with her usual sarcastic humor.

-----

The Hard Deck is as packed as always, and Bob—in his date clothes of dress pants and a button down shirt—stands out among the uniformed pilots and fellow wizzos.  He finds the Dagger Squad, confesses his failure to Fanboy, then settles into a stool near Nat and Rooster.

Nat puts a hand on his shoulder and gives him a comforting squeeze.  “I’m sorry, Bob,” she says.

“Her loss,” Rooster offers.

Bob shrugs.  It’s not anyone’s loss but his, but he offers them a weak smile that fools neither of them.

It’s Hangman who sidles up to Bob, and in an uncharacteristic moment of thoughtfulness, the cocky pilot offers to be his wingman—which makes Bob laugh, and it comes out laced with some bitterness.

“No offense, Bagman, but you’d be a terrible wingman,” Bob says.

“What?  Why?”

Bob lifts his hands in a helpless shrug.  “Because you’re….you.  And I’m not like you at all.”

“So?”

He scoffs in frustration at Bagman being so obtuse.  As if any woman would look at Bob if he walked up to them with Jake at his side.  It’d be like an Aston Martin rolling up alongside an old Honda Civic, and that’s the analogy he uses to make Jake understand.  But Jake shakes his head, clasps him on his shoulders and gives him a friendly shake.

“Nah, Baby on Board.  You got it all wrong.  You just need some confidence.”  Another teeth-rattling shake.  “Trust me, there’s a girl out there for you.  C’mon.”

Bob finds himself powerless to resist as Jake pushes him off of his stool, then shoves him gently in the direction of the crowded bar.

-----

The first pair that Jake sidles up to is a bust, but it’s not Bob’s fault:  Jake had hooked up with the one woman before, forgotten about it completely.  He’s moments from getting a drink tossed in his face when Bob tugs him away from the danger and they pull back, reevaluate.

The second pair is a bust too.  The first woman doesn’t even let Jake get the full sentence out before she’s wagging her ring finger in his face.

“Married,” she says, her words clipped.  “Move along, sailor.”

The third pair?  The third pair works out.  Jake hones in on one immediately, a blonde with big doe eyes, but the second one—you—rolls her eyes at him.

But when you turn to study Bob, you don’t roll your eyes.  You hold out a hand, introduce yourself, ask for his rank, then pat the empty chair beside you.

“Settle in, Lieutenant,” and your smile is easy.  “Let’s chat while we watch your friend strike out, huh?”

-----

It turns out you’re drunk, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing.

For one, you’ve fallen in with Bob Floyd, the most gentlemanly man a drunk, single girl could come across.  He’d never take advantage, and in fact, he’ll end up driving you home at the end of the night, getting you into your apartment.  He will take your shoes off of you, tuck you into your bed, and press a glass of water and a couple of ibuprofen on you before he sees himself out.

For another thing, Bob Floyd has fallen in with you, the most fiercely sweet drunk that a down-on-himself man could come across.  You’re one of those loud cheerleader types when you drink; the kind of woman who chats up other women in the bathroom, who tells them they’re beautiful, that you love them.  With your friend and Jake otherwise engaged, Bob finds himself caught in the tractor beam of your charm.

“You look sad,” you tell him around the rim of your glass.  “Are you sad?”

You’re drunk and Bob is sad, and you’re staring at him with wide eyes that glitter in the low light of the bar, so he tells you.  He tells you about his terrible date, the latest in a string of terrible dates, that he’s been single for so long and he’s not entirely convinced he’ll ever meet someone, that he’s too scrawny, that his glasses are terrible (one date called them serial killer glasses), that he’s too reserved to ever catch the eye of a woman, too unremarkable looking, let alone—

“No!”  You cut him off by exclaiming it, a near-shout, and your hand finds his forearm and grips him there.  “You’re gorgeous, Bill!  Don’t even say you aren’t!”

He grins despite himself.  “It’s Bob.  But thanks.  I mean, it’s nice of you to say—”

“Bob.  Yes.  Sorry.  Bob, not Bill.  I say it because it’s true.”  You release your hold on his arm and sit back in your chair, your eyes narrowed now as you study him closer.  You’re quiet for a long beat, and Bob squirms under your attention, but then you tell him more and he swears he breaks out in a full-body blush.

“You’re gorgeous, really,” you tell him.  “It’s just that you have a sneakier handsomeness, you know?  Like, that one there—” You gesture broadly at Jake.  “—He’s, like, Ken-doll handsome.  Like, he catches your eye because it’s all symmetrical and stuff, and he’s fine, but symmetry can be boring and someone like you, it’s sneaky.  You have a nice face, and these nice blue eyes, and nice hair, and I bet people think about you after the fact like, ‘oh, that Bob guy, he’s not bad at all,’ and then even later it’s like, ‘oh, Bob, he’s pretty handsome.’  Because you’re that sneaky sort of handsome and that’s the worst damned kind.”

Bob isn’t entirely tracking what you mean, but he shakes his head at the unearned praise, and he can’t stop the smile that’s plastered on his face.  He probably looks like a dope.

“Why’s that the worst kind?” he asks.

“Because it’s deadly!”  You lean forward again, put your hand on his arm again.  “Sneaky-handsome guys are like a virus because by the time you realize they’ve infected you, it’s too late.”

Bob chuckles.  “I’m a virus?  Suddenly my night has gotten worse, somehow.”

“No, not at all.  It’s just…”  You trail off, polish off your drink.  You wave down Penny for another.  “It’s just that you sneaky-handsome types never understand the power you have.  Ken-doll over there knows he’s hot, and by the mere fact of him knowing he’s hot, he loses a considerable amount of hotness.  But you have no idea you’re handsome, and that makes you even hotter.”

“I think there’s a string of women in the San Diego area that would disagree with your assessment,” Bob replies.  “But I appreciate the compliment, nonetheless.”

“Oh, them.”  You flap a hand, a dismissive wave.  “There’s a lot of idiots in the world, Bob.  You can’t let a string of women in the San Diego area make you feel bad.”

“I guess I just need to find someone who isn’t an idiot.”

“Ah, well!”  You set your drink down and wave your hands in front of yourself in a ta-da sort of flourish.  “Cal Tech graduate, Bobby.  I work for NASA.”

He feels a warm flush at you calling him Bobby.  “You’re a rocket scientist?  Definitely not an idiot, then.”

“Astrobiologist, actually.  And only an idiot sometimes, but never when it comes to the sneaky-handsome men here at the Hard Deck.”

Bob shakes his head, a little embarrassed at how much he likes you, a drunk stranger, talking him up.  He tries to dial it back, afraid he’s going to fall in love before last call.

“You’re way too smart for me, then,” he tells you.

That makes you arch an eyebrow at him.  “You afraid of smart women, Bobby?”

“Not at all.  It’s just that smart, beautiful, and sweet?  Do you understand the power you have?”  He keeps his tone light, teasing, but he’s in over his head with this:  he’s definitely going to fall in love before last call.

Of course he is.  His question makes you laugh, a warm sound that knocks free the lump in his chest from his earlier failed date.  Your laughter makes him feel drunk even though he hasn’t touched a drop; he feels warm and light and big-headed at how kind you’ve been to him, how sweet, but your laughter is the sound that makes him fall in love with you.

-----

The two of you stay until last call.  Bagman and your friend disappear hours before then, and you shrug at Bob, say you called it all wrong, that you didn’t think Jake was your friend’s type.

Bob drives you home.  You’re unsteady on your feet, so he hovers near you, but you manage reasonably well until it’s time to unlock your door.  He watches you try it, then he reaches out and takes the keys from your hand.

It’s the first time he touches you.

He gets you inside.  He gets you to your bedroom, and you flop gracelessly across the mattress, and Bob immediately goes into caretaker mode.  He slides your shoes off of you, sets them in a neat row by your closet.  He makes his way to your kitchen, gets you a glass of water, then stops in the bathroom.  He rummages through your medicine cabinet—you use the same brand of toothpaste as he does, the same type of toothbrush, and Bob marvels at the strange intimacy of learning these things, the everyday things that not everyone is privy to about you.  He finds some ibuprofen and shakes two out, then takes them and the water back to you.

You’re already drifting off to sleep, and Bob has to cajole you into sitting up.  He gets you perched on the side of the bed and gives you the pills and water, which you take without complaints.  He takes the empty glass back from you, and then there’s a moment—

—you sit on the edge of your bed and Bob stands over you, and you look up at him with your bleary eyes and he sees fear.  You’re understanding what you’ve done, maybe:  you’ve invited a strange man back to your place and you’re drunk, and he could do anything, and Bob sees the flicker of uncertainty, the beginning of fear in your eyes.  It makes him feel sick because he’d never take advantage.  It makes him sick that the world, being what the world is, makes this fear lance through the whiskey fumes in your head.

He reaches down to the foot of your bed where there’s a blanket neatly folded.  He shakes it out, urges you to lie down, and when you do, he covers you up.

“Be sure to drink more water when you wake up,” he tells you softly. 

The nascent fear fades out of your expression, and it’s replaced by a loose, goofy grin.  You free a hand from under the blanket and give him a sloppy salute.  ���Aye, aye, captain.”

Bob sees himself out but not before he’s struck with a bit of brave optimism.  He sees the little whiteboard by your refrigerator, and he writes out his name and his number.  He drives home and sends up a silent prayer that his sneaky-handsome virus has already infected you, charmed as he is by your earnestly drunken (albeit clunky) analogy from earlier in the evening.

He wakes up the next morning and feels less hopeful.  He queues up a playlist and sets out on his morning run, but his morning pessimism is misplaced:  you call him a mile into his run, and Bob stutters in his steps to hear your voice—a little rough, but sunny nonetheless.

“I’m looking for a guy named Bobby,” you tell him over the phone, and he can hear the smile in your voice.  “Lieutenant Blue Eyes.”

-----

The two of you make plans to meet up at the Hard Deck, but you don’t call it a date so Bob doesn’t either.  He’s in unfamiliar territory:  things have always been a date or not a date in the past, but he’s noticed that many of his Dagger teammates speak in looser terms—meeting up, hanging out—with potential partners.  He’s unsure how to handle it; if he seems too casual, you might miss his interest.  If he comes on too strong, he might scare you off.

He decides to just turn up in his uniform, as he usually does, and when he arrives at the Hard Deck, you are already there.  You’re perched in a bar stool and chatting to Penny, but when he strolls in, you see him.

You smile at him as he walks over to you, but then you shake your head in a mock-rueful way.

“Oh, no,” you say as you hop off of your stool.  You open your arms and Bob steps into them, and you hug him warmly like you’re old friends.  “I thought maybe it was just whiskey-goggles that night, but you really are cute.”

Bob chuckles.  He releases you, then takes the stool beside yours.  “Well, I’ve been downgraded.  You called me handsome that night,” he points out.

“Sneaky-handsome, actually.”

“There seems to be a whole spectrum here that I was never privy to.”

You wave down Penny who comes and takes your orders.  Once your drinks are in front of you—a hard cider for you, a shandy for Bob—you click your glass against his.

“Here’s to the sneaky-handsome men of the world,” you say.

Bob ducks his head and grins  “And to the rocket scientists,” he adds.

A date or not a date…the evening passes in a blink, and you leave Bob that night entirely sober after long conversations and a lot of easy laughter.  You pull him in for another hug before you part, and this hug lingers longer than the hug you gave him as a greeting.  When you pull away, though, you gaze at him with a somber expression.

“I wanted to thank you for the other night,” you tell him.  “For being a gentleman when you took me home.”

“Of course.”

“No, I mean it.”  Your hands on his upper arms squeeze him a little firmer.  “You could have taken advantage, and you didn’t.  You’re a good one, Bob.”

He shakes his head, tries to wave you off, but you squeeze him again.  You don’t let him shrug off your thanks.  You don’t let him downplay his goodness.

“You are a good man, Bob,” you repeat, and you stare at him, like you’re daring him to disagree. 

Bob, who finds that you’re something of a force to be reckoned with, wouldn’t dare to disagree.

-----

He’s still not entirely clear if this is dating or not.  Neither of you actually says the word.  You text each other steadily, and you meet up sometimes at the Hard Deck, but your schedule isn’t great and Bob’s is even worse.  He worries that he’s missed his chance.  When he talks about it to the other Daggers, Hangman rolls his eyes and tells Bob he should have taken his shot earlier, that Bob is pretty much friend-zoned now, but Nat rolls her eyes at that and says he’s overthinking it.

Of course Bob overthinks it.  Bob overthinks everything.

He doesn’t know yet that you overthink everything too.  That you are going through your own pangs of regret, that you think you’ve missed your chance too, that your friends circle around you too and give you tough-love pep talks to build up your courage to take the lead on this burgeoning thing with Bob.

And ultimately, Bob’s hunch that you’re a force to be reckoned with is correct.  In the end, you take charge.

-----

You end up inviting him over for dinner on a night when your schedules align, and Bob overthinks that too. 

What if it’s a date-date, and he turns up too casual, with nothing in his hands—no wine, no flowers?  Or the opposite—what if he dresses up a little, brings you a mixed bouquet, and it’s just a casual friends-type thing?

Bob has no idea how he can manage the systems on a sophisticated plane because his brain grinds to a painful halt the moment he starts to contemplate this dinner at your place.  It’s Nat—it’s always Nat, with her no-nonsense lens into the mystique of her fellow women—who smacks some sense into him.

“Wear a nice shirt, shower beforehand, and take a bottle of wine,” she tells him.

“But what if—”

“It’s always polite to take a gift, Bob.”  She rolls her eyes, heaves a sigh.  “And it’s always polite to, you know.  Shower.  Show up fresh-smelling and neat.  Jesus Christ.  Just go.”

So Bob turns up at your apartment, a mid-tier bottle of wine in his sweaty hand.  Freshly showered, a daub of cologne behind his ears, and a nice blue button-down that brings out his eyes. 

And it’s a good thing he took Nat’s advice too, because you open the door in the sweetest sundress, and there’s music softly playing and the most heavenly smells wafting from your kitchen.  Bob realizes all at once that it’s a date-date after all, and his heart does an alarming little stutter in his chest, enough to stun him until you take his hand and gently pull him inside.

-----

Part of Bob’s issue with women is his inability to pick up on subtle, sometimes invisible cues.  He has always fallen in with the sort of women who play mind games, who play coy and say one thing while meaning another.  He always feels back on his heels; it feels like women speak a language he’s only slightly fluent in, so he’s always playing catch-up to translate what they mean.

But it’s refreshing with you, in this moment, because as you both sit down to the feast you’ve prepared, you just talk with him.  The two of you chat about your lives, you catch each other up since the last time you’ve talked, and Bob almost forgets to be nervous.

Almost.  A pair of tapered candles flicker between you and cast your lovely face in a golden glow, and low, bluesy music sets the soundtrack as you eat.  You sip at the wine he brought, and he eats your home-cooking, and Bob imagines an entire life like this…and he almost misses the way you keep swiping your palms along your thighs, like you’re nervous.

Almost.  He leans into his WSO work, studies you closely like you’re a dashboard of lights and alarms and switches.  He watches you a little closer, and he sees the way your throat bobs when you swallow a mouthful of wine, like you’re swallowing past a lump or going all dry-mouthed on him.  He sees the deep breaths you take, the way you press the back of your hand to your neck, like you’re flushed and trying to calm yourself.

“You’re nervous,” he blurts out when he realizes it for sure, and you pause in where you’re lifting the wine glass to your mouth and stare at him.

“I am.”  It’s that simple.  No mind games, no coy pretending. 

“It’s just me,” Bob says.

You smile at him, and it trembles a little at the corners.  He can feel the nerves in you now, and he reaches out a hand across the table, palm up.  He makes a grabby motion with it until your smile firms up and you lay your hand in his, and he grasps you lightly.

“It’s just me,” he repeats.

“And I like just-you,” you tell him.  “Like-like, I mean.  I wanted to tell you so tonight.”

His heart does that wicked little stutter in his chest, but he squeezes your hand.  “Sounds like you just told me then.”

“Guess so.”  You watch him, and your smile seems tremulous again, so Bob replies, “I like you too.”

It’s that simple.  After you each put yourself through your own overthinking hell, each suffering through your own sleepless nights and needless worrying about dumb things like friend zones, it comes down to a moment so simple that it’s stupid:  just the two of you holding hands as you confess your mutual feelings matter-of-factly.

-----

It feels too easy.  After months (years) of struggling to even land the occasional first date, suddenly Bob’s dream girl turns up just like that.  It feels too easy, and so Bob slips into his overthinking almost immediately.

It goes fine after dinner, when the two of you trade nervous kisses on your couch until the nerves burn off enough that your mouth slotted over his feels natural, that you move in concert with each other—your head tilting one way, his tilting the other, no longer bumping noses or knocking his glasses askew. 

It goes fine as you climb into his lap, the solid weight of you a welcome sensation because Bob’s head feels like it’s filled with helium, drunk and fizzy from the feel of your lips against his, your tongue against his own.

It goes fine when you climb off of him, shaky-legged like a newborn foal.  When you hold out your hand and take his to lead him back to your bedroom.

The moment he finds himself stripped down to his boxers and lying on your bed is the moment it falls apart.

It’s like every mean comment, every brush-off and ghosting, every roll of the eyes and beleaguered sigh and overheard commentary about him crowds into the room and leaves no space for this moment with you.  Bob thinks of all the feedback he’s ever gotten on dates—the serial killer eye glasses, the lack of muscles, the lack of game.  He tries to take a deep breath and finds he can barely pull in a lungful, and his throat feels like it’s closing on him—

And he can’t get hard.  His near-erection from making out on the couch deflates, and even though you are perched over him—you’ve shed your sundress, and you’re in the sexiest, sweetest lingerie set, powder pink, like the underside of a cloud at sunrise—he cannot coax himself back to attention.

The panic that floods him—he recognizes the feeling.  He’s felt it a million times.  He feels the hot, splotchy redness as it breaks out across his chest and neck, and his face flushes furiously bright, and you notice it all in real time.  The sultry, heavy-lidded look on your face disappears and is replaced by pure concern.

“Bob?  Bobby?  Are you…okay?”  You reach a hand out and cup his face, and your palm had felt warm earlier but now it feels cool….which proves how hot he’s flushed, how feverish his panic makes him feel.

“I’m sorry.  Shit, honey.  I’m…I gotta go.”  He tries to sit up but your mattress is soft and he flails a moment, and if Bob were just a bit younger he’d burst into tears at how sideways this has all gone so suddenly.  You served him up the perfect evening, you’re kneeling right beside him in the hottest fucking lingerie, and he’s been reduced to a stuttering, red-face idiot who can’t even get hard—

“Hey.”  You lay your hand on his bare chest, steady him.  “Hey, hey, hey.  Take a second.  Just breathe, Bobby.”

“I gotta—”

“Just relax.”  You press against his chest, tap your forefinger against his skin.  “Breathe for me, okay?  Everything’s fine.”

“It’s not.  Fuck, it’s not!”  He raises his voice, winces at how shrill he sounds, and the dam in him breaks.  Something in him dislodges, and it all spills out:  every mean, rotten thing he’s ever thought about himself.  Every bit of unfair criticism, every insult and slight and how his own insecurity has twisted it all into a crippling imposter syndrome.  How he only ever feels competent at his job but how he struggles with everything else, and now how he’s fucked it all up with you because he’s overthinking, always trapped in the own tangled maze of his mind, always waiting for the other shoe to drop because he’s not good enough, he can’t even get hard even with you looking like a dream—

“Hey.  Whoa.”  You remove your hand from his chest, but you scoot over to sit beside him, turned to face him, your expression very similar to the night he met you—the same easy smile, the same studious eyes.

“Nothing’s ruined.  You haven’t fucked anything up.  Take a breath.  Is this because of that bad first date you had the night we met?”

He nods.  “A little bit.”

“There’s been other bad first dates, I guess?”

Another nod.

“And now you’re worried this is just another bad first date?”

“Yeah.”  It comes out a croak, a roughness in his throat. 

“Hmm.”  You lean forward, press a soft kiss to his forehead.  “You wanna hear about my worst first date ever?”

“No, honey, it’s okay—”

“His name was Justin.”  Another soft kiss, this one to his temple.  “Good job, good looking.”  Another kiss, to the other temple, right at his hairline.  “Picked me up and gave me flowers, took me out to San Diego’s most exclusive restaurant that has a reservation list a mile long.”

Bob chuckles weakly.  “Sounds awful,” he says, wry.

You hum again, kiss his flushed cheek.  “He was charming at dinner.”  A kiss on his other cheek.  “Said all the right things.  Asked about my life and listened to my answers.”  The lightest of kisses on the tip of his nose, and it makes him smile despite himself. 

“Halfway through dessert, a woman comes up to our table.”  Bob feels the gentle press of your lips at the corner of his mouth, and he turns his head to kiss you back, but you pull away. 

“It was Justin’s wife.”  A flurry of kisses now, to his chin, along his jawline, near his ear. 

“He was cheating,” Bob says.

“Nope.”  A kiss, this one lingering, under his jaw, on his neck.  “Turns out, this was a little game he and his wife play.  Some weird cheating, cuckolding fantasy.”  Your lips skate over his pulse point.  “He takes a girl out, his wife pretends to catch them, and then they go to a nearby hotel to fuck each other senseless.”

“Oh, shit.”

“Oh, shit is right.”  You lift your head to gaze at him.  “Asshole left me with the bill for dinner too.  So Bobby….you’re not my worst first date.  You’re not even close.”

“Honey—”

“You have no idea how hard you’re gonna have to work to really, honestly fuck this up.”  You grin at him, and then you straddle his lap again, and he lays his hands on your hips and stares up at you.

“Because you’re, like, exactly the sort of man I’ve always been looking for.  You’re that sneaky-handsome sort, and you’re smart and sweet, and you took care of me that first night when I was too drunk to make good choices.”  You cup his face in your hands, and you stare at him hard, that sweet forcefulness on full display, like you dare him to disagree with you.

“It’s already a sure thing, Bobby.”  You lean forward, kiss him gently.  “There’s no pressure to do anything tonight.  Don’t even think about needing to do anything.  How about you just let me love on you, and you just relax, and if you can keep your secret wife from busting in and turning this into a cuckolding fantasy, we’ll end the night just fine, okay?”

That makes him laugh, and it breaks the spell of his terrible ruminating.  Bob laughs, and he slides his hands from your hips up to your waist to feel your soft skin.

“I didn’t even think of getting a secret wife before I came here,” he confesses.

“See?  It’s a sure thing, then.”  You lean forward again, whisper in his ear, your warm breath making him break out in goosebumps as you tell him to just relax and let you love on him.

-----

The antidote to Bob’s awful overthinking, as it turns out, is your care and praise.

As far as first dates go, this is the one where Bob learns something new about his own sexuality.  He learns, thanks to you, that he has a praise kink, because your hands and mouth and body on his feels amazing, but it’s your words that make him hard.

Loving on him means you touch him everywhere.  You kiss him everywhere.  You stroke him, press your soft lips to him, lick against parts of him until he feels like he’s on fire in a way that is completely different than his panic attack.  You kiss every inch of his face and neck.  You trail your mouth over his shoulders and collarbones, across every bit of his chest and belly, and you praise him whenever your mouth isn’t otherwise occupied.

Look at you, Bobby.  Hiding this body away under that uniform.

You praise his arms, the muscles of his chest and abs.  You praise his shoulders and back, the smattering of chest hair, the trail of hair that leads down and disappears under the waistband of his boxers, and you glance up at him, the question in your eyes as you toy with the elastic.

“Can I?” you ask, and Bob nods, swallows hard, and you go lower, you push his boxers down and his cock is there, hard from your honied words.

“Holy shit,” you blurt out.  “Bob, are you for real with this?”

It probably seems like a cliché, like the pretty girl in a movie who somehow never realized she was pretty, but Bob has never really considered his size.  He’s been around plenty of other penises through the course of his career, but he’s never exactly eyed up other men and measured himself against them.  The handful of women he’s slept with never said anything so he assumed he was average, but you praise him here too—you tell him he has a beautiful cock, and Bob blushes at the compliment.  He’d never call it beautiful, but when you wrap your palm around his shaft and grip him gently, he’d agree to any adjective you might offer, so long as you never let him go.

This feels too easy too, but the panic never claws at Bob’s throat again.  You’ve chosen him, you’ve made it a sure thing for him, and you’ve cut through his awkward moment of near-flight to get him to this:  your body stretched alongside his, your breasts pressed against his arm, your hand working against his cock while you whisper praise in his ear. 

And every time doubt starts to creep in—he should be touching you too, he should be making you feel good too—you hush him, you still his mouth by kissing him, and you tell him that he has all the time in the world for touching you, but he should let you take care of him now.

His orgasm creeps up in fits and starts, and it seems to ratchet closer with each bit of praise you lavish on him, more so than each movement of your hand working against his cock.

“I want you to come for me, Bobby,” you whisper against his neck.  You kiss his pulse point, a plush, open-mouth kiss that makes him shiver as you grip him tighter, work a faster rhythm with your hand.  “Come for me like a good boy.”

He wants to be good for you; he wants to do as you say.  Some not-so-small part of him craves your approval, and maybe the two of you will play around with that sort of dynamic in the future, but for now, he just wants to obey you.  He wants to do his part to salvage the night he thinks he almost ruined, so he breathes in time to your strokes, focuses on every sensation—the softness of your breasts pressed against him, your wet, hot mouth kissing him, the light scent of your perfume.  The tension in his belly is a coil, and it tightens and tightens until it snaps, and his hips stutter against your grasping hand.  He gasps out your name, warns you, and then a beat later, he comes.  He spills over your hand, thick ropes of cum coating your fingers and wrist, spilling over onto his belly.

“Just like that, baby.”  You kiss his panting mouth, and he feels the curve of your lips as you give a pleased smile.  “It’s that simple.”

[daemour]

♡ Event: @pirateeznet 2nd Anniversary Event

♡ Pairing: Farmhand! Choi San x home aide! f! Reader

♡ Genre: Harvest Moon AU, slight slow burn, fluff, slight angst, T for Teen

♡ Warnings: Cursing, some sexual innuendos at the end, that's it

♡ Summary: Working as a home aide on a farm brings you some new trials...namely a certain attractive farmhand named San.

♡ Word Count: 9277 (im SORRY)

♡ Genre: Regular Life ; Prompt: Coworkers

This was supposed to be...a lot longer. LAMFIJGDFJKGHKJSHDF x) With both Hwa and Joong as other love interests...but I gotta learn how to restrain myself LOL. But I do have more planned with YN and San (and a little more spicy too hehe) so if you'd like to read that let me know!

it's a honker of a fic, so i really do hope you enjoy despite the plot holes LMAO

Thank you to @okiedokrie for beta'ing,,,the first draft lmaooo surprisee...its totally different lol

“Are you serious?” you mutter, standing knee-high in a mud puddle. When you decided to move out of the city and stay with an elderly man as a home nurse on his farm temporarily, you expected to get dirty. But not like this, and not that soon. The wagon was only able to take you so far before you had to walk the rest of the way since it was technically private property or whatever the guy said. You didn’t quite remember his reasoning, and it wouldn’t have been such a big deal if it hadn’t started pouring about five minutes after you started walking. Now you’re cold and wet, and mud is everywhere.

With a frustrated groan, you try and take another step, wincing at the feeling of the mud squelching in your shoes and soaking your socks through. You’re having regrets, but you’re sure the ailing older man is having worse issues than wet socks and shoes and you power through. After a long and gruelling walk, you finally see the cream building and connected barn and you sigh in relief.

“Oh, man, you look a mess,” a voice is heard from behind you and you shriek, dropping down to the ground and clutching at your heart. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you. YN, right?”

You nod miserably. “Yeah. This is Aria farm?” You punctuate it with a sniff as you try to regain your dignity.

The man laughs, much more high-pitched than you expected. “Yup. I’m the farmhand, San.” He holds out his hand. “Need a hand up?”

With a shaky smile, you nod, grabbing his hand and letting him pull you up. His grip is strong, warm, and calloused, and you shoo away any unwanted thoughts. “Got caught in the rain?” San smiles apologetically like he was the one who brought the showers down upon you.

“Yeah, I sure did.” You return the smile with a weak one of your own. “Got dumped at the end of the road by the wagon, and not five minutes later I got poured on.”

San winces. “Oh, well, sorry that had to be your first welcome here. I’ll give that guy a talk later—he means no harm, just likes to play pranks.”

You grunt, not caring all that much about the villagers in the town, pranks or not. You have no doubt that the wagoneer meant no harm, nor that the villagers aren’t nice, but most of your days will be spent cooped up with the old farmer in his house. Plus, you decided to move away from the city to get away from people and let your introversion take over.

It takes a moment for you to realise he’s expecting you to keep up a conversation. “How is Mr Takeru doing?”

San shrugs, his eyes continuously flickering back to you. “He’s doing fairly well, all things considered. The fall left him physically incapable of a lot, but his energy hasn’t dwindled at all.” There’s a fondness in his voice. “He’s happy to hear you’ll be coming. He loves having people around and his kids barely visit. To no fault of their own, of course. They’re all on different islands, farming as well and it’s hard to get away.”

You hum. You’ve heard of their family situation, how Takeru’s kids all followed in his footsteps to become farmers, and that their children also went on to become farmers. It’s interesting, and you sometimes wonder if it’s something they all wanted. “It’ll be nice for him to have someone around,” you tell an attentive San. “It would’ve been great for him if some of his family could see him, but I’m sure he’s excited anyway.”

As you talk to San, you don’t realise how quickly the two of you walk until you are already at the house’s porch. San opens the door, stepping in, but you hesitate for just a moment. You almost turn tail if it wasn’t for the warm smile San offers.

“Don’t worry, I promise Mr Takeru is super nice. And I’ll always be happy to keep you company.” His eyes crinkle as his smile widens even further, and you can’t help but feel your face warm at how sweet he is.

“I’ll have to hold you to that, then.”

-

“Are you going to the flower festival tomorrow?” San catches you right when you go out to grab the mail.

You tilt your head as you flip through the many letters. Nothing of too much importance, just a couple of notices from the local stores. You see a letter from one of Mr Takeru’s kids and you smile at the sight of it before realising you hadn’t responded to San. “The what?”

“Flower festival,” San repeats himself, a smile growing on his face. It always seems to be there when you see the farmhand. “It’s a holiday where couples enjoy the cherry blossoms together and all.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “San, I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m not quite part of the couples demographic.” The farmhand’s eyes sparkle at your joke, but his gaze does not waver.

“You could go with me,” he suggests and you choke on the spot. “I’m being serious! It’s a really nice time and it’d be a shame if you missed it.”

You sigh, glancing behind you. “We’ll see. I might be busy tomorrow.”

San still smiles triumphantly at your answer. “If you do decide to come, I’ll meet you at the church grounds at seven.” And before you can even respond, he winks and walks away, making sure to flex his back muscles. If you can’t rip your eyes away, that's your own problem.

As the clock ticks closer and closer to six, you get more and more antsy. You’re still debating whether to go. One part of you wants to go so he won’t wait in vain, but the other part of you wants to avoid all sorts of contact with people. Every time you go and buy groceries for Mr Takeru, the villagers all stop to stare at you. And you know it’s partly your fault for never trying to get to know them, but you really would rather stay a hermit.

But San, he was different. Although you’ve only been here for a few weeks, San seems to have taken an interest in you. He’s always finding an excuse to talk to you, be it lunch break or asking to pass a message to Mr Takeru. You’re not quite sure what his motive is, but you’re not complaining. He’s good-looking, kind, and makes an effort to get to know you. Perhaps you should return the kindness.

When the clock strikes half past six, you know it’s the last moment before you can make your decision. After a moment’s hesitation, you call up the stairs “Mr Takeru, I’ll be going out! Do you have everything you need?”

You can hear the smile in his voice as he responds, “Mmh, I’ve got my cane so I’m all good. Going to the festival, I see?”

“Bye, Mr Takeru” You roll your eyes good-naturedly even if he can’t see it, grabbing your bag and practically launching yourself out the door. If you run, you’ll make it just in time.

You’re sure you look crazy, running down the streets while attempting to pull your hair away from your face to no avail, but time is of the essence. You manage to smile at the villagers who wave at you, but you’re panting hard and you think your legs might fall off as you take the church steps three at a time.

As you catch your breath, you can see San out of the corner of your eye approaching with the biggest smile you’ve seen on his face. “You came!”

You open your mouth to respond but all that comes out is a hack from the lack of air in your lungs. San laughs, reaching over to pat you on the back as you take a moment to catch your breath. “My gosh, I am not cut out for running,” you gasp, finally straightening up and brushing your hair out of your face.

San’s hands slow as he shifts them lower to rest at the small of your back. “Well, I’m glad you made it anyway. Come sit with me and my friends. They’ll be happy to see you came.”

Without giving you a moment to protest, San sweeps you away towards the back corner of the courtyard. The two people sitting on a blanket you recognise—the farmer you buy your groceries from and the bartender who walks past Mr Takeru’s farm on the way to work in the afternoon, and neither of their names you ever got.

“Guys, this is YN,” San introduces you and you give a little wave as they chorus your name with ‘hi’s. “This is Wooyoung, and that’s Yunho.” He points to the bartender and the farmer respectively.

“Good to finally get your name,” Yunho smiles at you, a bright smile lighting up his face. “You’ve been shopping with me for what, two weeks now?”

You laugh awkwardly. “Yeah, just about.” You silently beg for the topic to change because San is sensitive about how you buy groceries elsewhere since a storm destroyed most of the farm’s crops. “What does one do at the flower festival?”

Wooyoung and Yunho exchange a glance between each other, their eyes soft. “Generally couples sit together and watch the flowers fall and talk about each other. At the end, you pick up a blossom and blow it after making a wish,” Yunho explains, the corner of his lips pulling up as Wooyoung leans into his body. “I’m here with Wooyoung.”

He immediately realises this is not the best thing to say as your face heats up and your brain immediately goes into overdrive. “You don’t have to be in a romantic relationship to go, of course!” San immediately rectifies, his hands shooting out to smack Yunho in the shoulder. “I always go with friends.”

A smile pulls at your lips even though you’re still a little awkward at the revelation. “Well, thank you for inviting me anyway,” you bow slightly. “It’s nice to get a little scenery difference.”

Wooyoung laughs at that. “Yeah, I don’t think I’ve seen you away from the farm since you arrived, barring your visits to Marimba and Horn Ranches.” You duck your head shyly and San swoops to your rescue.

“Not that you’re any better, Wooyoung. All you do is work and go home to sleep,” San teases. “Except when Yunho makes you go outside, of course.”

Both Wooyoung and Yunho immediately blush red and you laugh at the sight. “You two are cute together though,” you compliment. “Hopefully one day I can have a relationship like yours.” You miss the soft gaze sent your way by San, but neither Wooyoung nor Yunho do and they exchange a look before smiling back at you.

“I’m sure you will one day.”

-

It’s pouring buckets out there and even San has taken the day off. There’s nothing to do on the farm other than feed the animals, and the day before San had put extra food in their buckets for that occasion exactly. Mr Takeru is fast asleep and all you’re doing is sitting in the living room and trying to focus on reading. But it’s not coming to you.

With a sigh, you put your book back down and move to stand near the window, staring at the bleary landscape. That’s when you see it. A little glimmer of light right by the bending tomato plants. You narrow your eyes, unsure if your eyes are playing tricks on you, but then it happens again. Now you’re sure something is out there, and against your better judgement, you’re going to find out what it is.

With another glance towards Mr Takeru, who doesn’t seem to be waking up anytime soon, you pull on a raincoat and open the front door. The wind almost slams it shut but you catch it just in time, slipping out of the house and closing it gently instead.

The wind is practically bullying you as you make your way slowly over to the garden. When you finally reach the plants, you squint but can’t seem to find anything, but you swear you saw something. Your eyes dart around to see if you can find it again, and another sparkle catches your eye further down the road.

You cast a glance back at the house, inner debate raging in you. But at heart, you’re forever a toddler and you go chase after the pretty lights.

The farther you go, the more you’re starting to regret your choices. But you’re too far to find your way back—although you’ve been here for almost a month now, you’re not all that well-versed in where things are around this island. Yet another point into why you should’ve just stayed at the farm.

With a groan, you take another step closer, making your way through a tunnel of trees. The rain only seems to get heavier but you can still see the faint sparkling but not much around it and you step closer.

Suddenly, the rain melts away to reveal a little grove and a giant tree standing tall and proud. The only thing that tells you were just in the rain is the fact that you’re soaking wet. You blink, step back, and the rain falls around you again. Another step forward, and the sun is shining again.

You rub your eyes, sure you must be going crazy. But the sunny area is still in front of your eyes. As much as your brain is screaming at you to turn back and make your way home, your curiosity gets the better of you. You take a few steps closer, marvelling at the old spring on either side of the stone pathway you’re on.

You’ve heard of the stories of the fae and magic surrounding this island, mostly from Mr Takeru himself, but you always chalked it up to him being old, as much as you thought it would be nice for it to be real. And here you are, standing in the middle of what can only be called magic surrounding you.

The area looks almost unoccupied, with more of the sparkles that drew you out of the house in the first place flitting around. You take a couple of steps closer when someone steps out from behind the tree. “What are you doing here?” You don’t recognise the figure standing in front of you, with perfectly coiffed hair and a frown upon his pouting lips.

You blink at him. “Uh, I was taking a walk and ended up here. What is this place?”

The blonde man blinks at you. “You don’t know? It’s the Goddess Spring, home of the tree that powers our island. Though…I guess you are new here.”

You frown, cocking your head. “Sorry if I seem rude, but I don’t think I’ve met you. Who are you?”

The stranger’s piercing blue eyes widen and he laughs, waving his hands. “Oh my, I can’t believe I forgot my manners. I’m Park Seonghwa, son of the mayor of this little island. My father speaks highly of you and how well you care for Mr Takeru.”

His hand is firm and warm although his palms are softer than San’s. “Nice to meet you, Seonghwa,” you smile at him warmly. “Your father speaks proudly of you as well.”

You can’t believe you haven’t made the connection. Seonghwa isn’t the spitting image of his father per se, but they look similar enough to each other, especially in their eyes. Mayor Gil and Seonghwa both have the same stare.

The young man smiles again, shaking his head. “My father can be passionate. Now that he’s older, he tells me he has less grievances against the world. But I am curious—what are you doing here? It’s still pouring out there.”

You shrug, a little embarrassed. “I was just following some…uh…sparkles.”

“Sparkles? Nothing else?” Seonghwa’s facial expression shifts to one of curiosity. Your eyebrows furrow at his intensity and his features soften as he chuckles. “Ah, I don’t mean to alarm you. This island has a rich history behind this little grove. Are you busy?”

You shrug, glancing behind you. “No, not really. I’m not really in the mood to walk all the way back to the farm in the rain. I’m a big history fan anyway.”

Seonghwa shrugs, gesturing to the stone bench up further on the stone pathway. “Come and sit then. The story starts with this tree.”

To be honest, you don’t understand much of what Seonghwa explains. Something about bells and trees powering the island, and how only the line of mayors and Mr Takeru’s family can see the magic. But Seonghwa seems so passionate about it, and you have no reason to disbelieve it, not when you’ve witnessed the grove itself, so you just smile and nod and do your best to comprehend.

Seonghwa is finishing up his story of how Mr Takeru single-handedly revived the island when he takes a glance at his watch and gasps. “I’ve kept you far too long,” he sighs, shaking his head. “I’m sure the rain has stopped, you should make your way back to the farm before it gets dark.”

Your brows furrow, glancing up to see the sun getting close to the west. “Oh, crap,” you gasp, “I need to start dinner. Do…do you happen to know the way back to the farm? I didn’t quite see how I got here.”

Seonghwa chuckles. “Yes, you can just take a left out here and follow the path down the mountain. It should lead you to the pond right by Aria Farm. I’ll see you around town, then.”

You nod, promising him to try and find time to visit him in town before booking your way out of the grove. He was right, the rain had slowed to a drizzle that hardly bothered you. You’re making your way down the mountain, rushing so much you can hardly enjoy the view you missed on your way up.

As soon as the blue roof of the farmhouse comes into vision, you can’t help but smile to yourself at the familiar sight. Your little adventure was fun but now it’s time to go back. As you unlock the door and swing it open, your vision is immediately blocked by a firm, warm chest and strong arms wrapping around you in a tight hug. “YN, where were you?”

San’s worried voice reaches your ears and your initial shock wears off as you tilt your head back to look at him. “I went on a walk and found some grove near the mountains,” you explain honestly, and San’s eyebrows raise into his bangs.

“A walk? YN, are you insane? I came around to make sure you both were okay and Mr Takeru told me he didn’t know where you had gone. It was a crazy storm out there too. You have to be careful, YN. I– you could’ve gotten hurt.”

San’s arms tighten around your shoulders and your face heats up as you pat his back awkwardly. “Well, I agree it was pretty stupid of me, but I’m fine and here! I won’t do it again, I promise,” you try and cheer him up while also doing your best to wriggle out of his grip. It’s embarrassing for you to be so close, you’re sure he can feel the heat radiating off of your ears. He’s too hot for you to be this close to and you need some space before you combust.

You finally manage to untangle yourself, offering a smile to ease the distance between the two. “How long were you waiting for me, anyway?”

San sighs, running a hand through his dark locks. “Maybe just about three hours? I think I was about ten minutes away from going out to look for you myself. I mean, the rain only stopped an hour ago, it’s understandable I was worried.”

He’s trying to convince himself more so than you, but you can’t really blame him. You would’ve been the same way in his shoes. You try not to think about what would happen if he had suddenly disappeared in the rain. “No, I really am sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you,” you shake your head, glancing away in guilt. “I just thought something was out there and went on a wild goose chase. Turns out it was just my eyes playing tricks on me. But in the grove I went to, I finally met the mayor’s son.”

San’s expression shifts to one of understanding. “Seonghwa? He’s nice, I’m glad you’ve met him.” He finally smiles back, softly, but shakes his head as if remembering where he is. “Er, I suppose I should let you go have dinner now. You must be hungry.”

He slips out of the door before you can even respond, the thought of inviting him for dinner only popping into your head as he’s already halfway down to the river, his form glowing gold in the sunset. You poke your head out to call for him, but your nerves get the better of you and you just watch him grow smaller and smaller in the distance.

“You should go for it.” A hoarse voice interrupts your swirling thoughts and you turn back to see Mr Takeru leaning on his cane and smiling kindly at you. “You’re young, and pretty. Anyone can see clear as day that San likes you. You know, he was quite worried when you were out.”

You swear there is steam radiating off of your face. “Ah, Mr Takeru, don’t get my hopes up,” you laugh. “There’s no way San sees me as much more than a friend. Now, let’s get dinner started, no?”

Mr Takeru just sighs, a melancholy smile on his face. “You should run right after him before it’s too late, you know. But yes, let’s have dinner YN.”

-

You stand in front of the door of the mayor’s house, debating whether to walk in or not. When you received an invitation for lunch from Seonghwa earlier this morning, he had assured you that you could walk right in without knocking, but you felt a little too awkward to do that.

“What are you doing here?” A sharp voice startles you and you jump, looking over your shoulder guiltily. A silver-haired man with sharp eyes and thick robes gazes at you with an uninterested expression on his face.

“Ah– Seonghwa invited me for lunch here,” you explain, glancing back at the door.

Before you can say anything, the strange, eccentric man brushes past you, the many bracelets and necklaces he has on jingling. “Well, then. He’s up to one of his schemes to get me to socialise again. He invited me for lunch too. Come on in.”

He swings the door open, stepping inside the house and you stare at him with wide eyes before scurrying after him. The outside of the house is filled with flowers lining the stepping stones, but the inside of the house is more mature in decor, with dark oak tables and brown wallpaper. The stranger glances at you, having noticed your eyes wandering the decor and he laughs shortly. “Quite the juxtaposition of interior and exterior, no? Mayor Gil’s late mother had designed the inside and so the mayor hasn’t had the heart to change it.”

You’re about to respond when one of the doors to your right slams open, revealing Seonghwa standing there with messy hair and a sullen look on his face. “Sorry, I’m going to have to cancel lunch. My father has fallen ill with cow fever. YN, I’m so sorry to have to turn you away but I don’t want you to catch it, or Mr Takeru for that matter.” He heaves a sigh, then turns to the stranger. “Hongjoong, could you do me a favour and bring me some medicine?”

The man—Hongjoong—nods sharply and spins on his heel, striding out the door without a moment’s hesitation. You falter just a moment, shooting Seonghwa a quick smile and ‘hope your father feels better soon’ before following Hongjoong’s steps out the door.

On your way home, you can’t help but wonder…what on earth is cow fever? You’ve never heard of such a thing. You’re too lost in thought you almost don’t see San waving at you from afar. “Ah, hey San!” you greet him with a quick wave and a smile. “Did you have lunch yet?”

A shrug is your answer and you laugh at San’s nonchalance. “Nah, I was just about to head out for some, though. How was your lunch?”

You shake your head. “It had to be cancelled. Mayor Gil came down with the cow fever, so we decided to reschedule.”

A pout forms on San’s face. “Well, I hope he gets better. Cow fever is no joke. But hey, since you didn’t have lunch, would you like to join me?”

Although it would mean you’d have to walk back to town, you can’t say ‘no’ to the smile on San’s face. “Sure, I’d be happy to,” you grin. “Inn? Do you want to get sandwiches and eat on the dock?”

The smile on San’s face widens. “It’s almost like you’re reading my mind. Let’s eat on the dock.”

Without another word, he hooks his arm around yours and pulls you in the direction of the barn. “Ah– San, the town is the other way, you know.”

San laughs again, loud and bright. “Yeah, I know. We’ll take Emma.”

It takes a moment to register. “The cow? San, are you crazy?” you gasp, but there’s still a giggle present in your tone. “First, we have a horse. Second, I don’t even know how to ride a horse, much less a cow!”

“That doesn’t matter,” San grins impossibly wider, his dimples deep. “Emma’s sweet, she’s an easier ride than Princess. Plus, I want Princess to have some more bonding time with her foal. Come on, I promise it’ll be fun.”

You groan good-naturedly but can’t keep the smile off your face as the two of you approach the well-mannered cow. “Fine,” you agree. “How do I get on?”

Instead of answering your question like a normal human being, San places his hands on your waist. For a moment, you’re lost in his firm grip, but it doesn’t last long as he lifts you and places you on Emma’s back, a shriek emitting from your mouth. “San!” you laugh, looking down to see San’s eyes crinkling as he chuckles and pats your thigh. “Warn me next time!”

“So there’ll be a next time?”

“You’re focusing on the wrong thing,” you scold lightly, turning away so he won’t see your flushing cheeks. “Come on, let’s go. I’m hungry.”

You can hear San laugh to himself one more time before hopping up behind you and wrapping an arm around your waist. Immediately, your mind is taken back to that rainy day almost a month ago when he hugged you and your cheeks burn even more. “Hold on tight,” San hums, leaning forward till his lips are right by your ear.

And once again, he doesn’t give you time to mentally prepare before Emma runs down the path towards the town. You’re terrified, hands gripping so tightly on San’s that you’re sure your nails will leave indents. But somehow, you’re enjoying yourself taking a wild ride on a cow of all things. Maybe it helps that San’s body is pressed against yours and you can feel the heat radiating off him.

You’re practically in a daze when you reach the town, San lifting you off Emma much more gently than when he put you on her. “You good?” he asks, and you snort, shaking your head fondly.

“God, I can’t believe I did that. I can’t believe you made me do that. But yes, I’m good. More than good, even. That was fun.” You chuckle mostly to yourself, brushing your hair out of your eyes. “Come on, let’s eat.”

It’s your turn to grab San’s warm hand and pull him in the direction of the inn, the little bell tinkling as you step inside. Mai smiles at the two of you, waving you both over to her station. “Hello, you two. Looking for some lunch this fine morning?”

“Yep,” San leans on the counter with his elbow, ignoring the glare the head chef, Chihaya, sends him. Mai hides her smile extremely badly. “Could I get the tuna sandwich? And whatever YN’s getting.”

Your head snaps towards him. “Oh, no, no, San, don’t worry about it. I can pay for my own,” you decline as quickly as you can, but he raises an eyebrow in response.

“It’s my treat, YN. Don’t fight me on this, I’ll win. I invited you out, so it’s only right I pay.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “But–”

“No buts, okay? Don’t worry, I’m perfectly capable of paying for the both of us. Let me do this, YN. Just order, okay?” San holds up a hand, and you know he’s won.

With a sigh, you concede. “Fine. But next time, I’ll pay, and no buts.” San raises his hands in defeat. Satisfied, you turn back to Mai. “Could I get an egg sandwich?”

Mai chuckles, writing down your order in her little notebook. “It’s cute to see you two together. Poor San has been lonely for a long time.”

“We’re not dating,” you quickly correct her, face heating up in embarrassment.

“And I’m not lonely!” San interjects, pout on his face, and his cuteness in that moment makes you forget how awkward you were about Mai’s statement.

“Okay,” Mai chirps, clearly disbelieving the two of you, but before you can refute any longer, Chihaya stalks over, handing the two of you nicely wrapped sandwiches.

“Mai, stop bothering them. You two, go eat. See you later,” he shuts down the conversation, waving the two of you away.

Both San and you exchange a look before quickly leaving the inn, Mai’s sweet giggles trailing behind the two of you until the door shuts behind you. “Well then. Dock?”

You snort, nodding. “Dock.”

You skip your way through town to the dock, empty aside from the local fisherman about to head inside for his own lunch break. The wind isn’t too harsh today, something you appreciate so that the sea’s waves don’t get close to your feet. Neither you nor San feel the need to talk as you work through your lunches, the food delicious enough to keep your mouths occupied.

You finish your sandwich much earlier than San, leaning back on your arms as you sneak a peek at his side profile while he continues to eat, unaware. Something about his focused gaze on his sandwich seems to draw your gaze. As you wait, you can’t help but think back to Mai’s words, unable to keep your mind from daydreaming about Choi San.

Ever since that fateful day in the rain, the hug he had given you keeps popping up in your mind at the most inopportune times…like right now. You can already feel heat rising to your face once again and you quickly focus your eyes on the horizon to do your best to rid yourself of such thoughts.

You can’t afford to like San, not like that. Not when you have no idea what you’re going to do after this job, or even where you’ll go. This little island feels more like home than the big city did, but you don’t know where your life could fit in here. Not when it feels like everyone already has their place in the town.

“What are you thinking about?” You blink yourself back to reality, where San has finished his sandwich and is looking at you with such a fond look in his eyes. “You look lost in your head.”

You shrug, bringing your legs up to your chest and resting your chin on your knees. “I don’t know…” you murmur, a melancholy smile playing on your lips. “Just the future, I guess. What I’ll do later.”

San hums, his hand coming to rest close to your own, and you push back thoughts of grasping his worn, warm palm. “I get it. Before I started working for Mr Takeru, I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do either. I bounced from ranch to ranch, even started over at Marimba Farm for a time until Mr Takeru offered me a job.”

“Is that where you met Yunho?”

At your question, San chuckles. “Yeah. He hired me at Marimba when it was first starting out, then recommended me to Mr Takeru after he was able to manage it with the help of Wooyoung. Yunho is one of my oldest friends here.”

“It must be nice to have that close of a friend,” you state, more to yourself than anything, but San hears you anyway, his brows furrowing with light concern. “Say…who’s Hongjoong? I met him briefly at Seonghwa’s before I had to go home. I’ve never seen him around before.”

San hums, tilting his head so he can look into your eyes more clearly. You fight to keep the blush of your cheeks. “Hongjoong runs the clinic, and does fortune telling on the side. He’s descended from a long line of wizards, and his paternal family has run the clinic for a very long time. Why?”

You shrug. “I heard something about him getting medicine for Mayor Gil. Thought it might be interesting to talk to him about the island’s medical practices. Since I’m a nurse and all.” You laugh, shaking your head. “Maybe I’m a little curious too. He dresses nothing like the other islanders.”

San chuckles alongside you. “His robes are the traditional wear for the wizards of this island. He does quite enjoy talking about the history behind them, so you should ask him about it some time. Any other trivia I can answer for you?”

His tone is light, teasing, and you snort and shove at his shoulder. “Shut up, can’t a girl be curious? I get it, you don’t like me.”

“You and I both know that’s the furthest thing from true.” San shakes his head, and you freeze, aware of what he’s implying.

“San–” You’re unsure of what to say. “I’m–”

“You don’t have to say anything,” San laughs, leaning in to tap his forehead against yours. “Not right now, at least. I’ll give you time to think about it. Now come on, let’s get back to the farm.”

Before you can blink, he’s already on his feet and holding out a hand to help you stand. After a moment's hesitation, you reach out as well, placing your hand in his. As he pulls you up, he leans forward to press his lips against the side of your head and you duck your head, heat rushing to your face.

The walk home is silent, but not uncomfortably so. Instead of riding Emma back, San lets her amble along the path on her own. You walk side by side, fingertips not quite brushing, stealing glances at each other and soft smiles. Maybe it's because he finally put words to what the two of you have, but you can’t help but wonder exactly why both of you are suddenly so open with how much you care for each other.

As he walks you to the front door of the farmhouse, he clears his throat, obviously wanting to say something. You turn to him expectantly, taking note of the nervousness in his eyes. “YN…” he mumbles, a far cry from the confident man he was on the dock. “No matter how you end up feeling, please don’t leave the island because of it. Everyone here likes you, even though you don’t really know them well. And Mr Takeru is terribly fond of you. Don’t let me influence your life too much, okay?”

You sigh, body visibly relaxing. “Of course not, San. I’ve grown to love it here. I don’t think even you can keep me away.”

San chuckles at your feeble attempt at a joke, out of pity, you think. “Okay, okay. Have a good day, YN.”

You close the door behind you, smiling to yourself subconsciously. “Miss YN, is that you?” Mr Takeru calls out, and you shake your head, willing your brain to clear up before quickly making your way to your employer.

“I’m here, Mr Takeru!”

-

You awkwardly stand at the bar, waiting for Wooyoung to finish up with a customer. The bar is the last place you would usually be, but you’re at a loss. San’s words have been replaying in your head since that fateful day on the dock, and you haven't spoken to him since. Not that he’s bothered by it. True to his word, San had been giving you space, only exchanging soft, sweet, ‘good morning’s and gentle smiles.

As each day passed, you knew what your answer would be, but then a letter arrived today from your agency back home. A reminder your contract was almost up. You knew you had to make a decision, fast.

“All right, what’s going on in your head, missy?” Wooyoung’s voice breaks you out of your swirling thoughts. “You look like you’re about to be sick, and I don’t want to have to take you to the doctor’s.”

You open your mouth, close it again, and then reopen. “Wooyoung, do you know if the clinic has any job openings?”

Wooyoung furrows his brow, frowning. “Well, you’ve picked the worst person to ask this question to. I’ve never gone to the clinic before, and Hongjoong never comes in here. But they might. Hongjoong’s grandfather recently retired, so as Mr Van takes his role, there might be a job opening soon. I think Mao was thinking about volunteering there, though. You’d have to talk to Hongjoong about it. Why?”

You hesitate, eyes moving from side to side. No one is close enough to hear you over the music. “Did San talk to you at all in the past week?”

Understanding dawns in Wooyoung’s eyes. “Ah. He told us what happened, but let me hear what you think of it. All our regulars are here already so I won't have to make any more drinks for a while.”

A sigh makes its way out of your throat. “My contract with Mr Takeru is ending soon. The easy answer is to renew, but what about after that? I don’t know where I could work, other than the hospital, and if Mao wants to work there, I don’t want to take that opportunity away from him.”

Wooyoung laughs. “I said he would volunteer, not work. He’s the fisherman’s son, the sea is in his blood. But even if you don’t work at the clinic, San would probably be happy to support you until you find something.”

You shake your head tiredly. “But I don’t want him to. He already works so hard, and I don’t want to make him feel obligated to help me, not when I’m capable of supporting myself and it’s just me overthinking.”

There’s a pause, and then Wooyoung dissolves into laughter. “YN, he would be helping you because he wants to. Hell, any of us would be willing to help you. Yunho could use someone to help him on his own farm, I’m sure Seonghwa would like to have a secretary, hell, I could use you as a server. You’re worrying too much about it. Things will work out if you want them to.”

You wince. “I know, I know. I just worry, you know.”

“Well, don’t,” Wooyoung teases. “Just talk to San. He’ll understand.”

“As always, your advice is impeccable,” you smile. “Thanks, Wooyoung, really.”

“It’s what I do,” Wooyoung winks, sliding a glass over. “Have a drink before you go, okay? I’m not getting paid to gossip, you know.”

You squint at him. “Don’t you own this bar?” All Wooyoung does is smile knowingly and nod towards the cup of…something. You take a tentative sip, and then another, and then it hits. The sweet but tangy flavour with a hint of bitterness from the alcohol. “Oh, this is good! What is it?”

“Raspberry cocktail,” he answers, way too proud of his creation. “I perfected the recipe today, as well as a few others. You should try those ones too.”

You laugh, downing the rest of your drink. “Sure, sure, go ahead. I’m almost never here anyway.”

Wooyoung practically vibrates in excitement, moving around the kitchen in a dash to prepare your next drink. You’re on your third drink and too busy laughing at Wooyoung’s antics to notice the presence behind you. When Wooyoung slides you your next drink, you ask, “Which one is this?”

“This one is your last drink,” a firm voice speaks up and you snap your head around, startled, to come face to face with San. “You still have work tomorrow, YN, you can't get too drunk.”

“Hey, Sanah,” you beam up at him, unbothered by his close proximity. You blame it on the alcohol. His eyes soften as he looks down at you, a smile tugging at his lips. “I was just talking about you!”

“Oh, were you?” San leans down, pressing his forehead against yours. “All good, I hope. Come on, finish your drink and let’s get you home.”

Without much further prompting, you down the rest of your drink and wave at Wooyoung, who is watching the two of you with an amused expression plastered on his face. “Bye, now,” he sing-songs, “get home safe.”

San rolls his eyes good naturedly, nodding at Wooyoung and sliding some money over to pay for your few drinks. “Have a good night, Youngah.” He wraps an arm around your shoulders, helping you stand and pulling you out of the inn. “What am I gonna do with you, huh?”

You hum, turning your head to press your face into his shoulder. “I dunno,” you mumble into him, breathing in the smell of his soap. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do if I end up out of a job. You’re too perfect, I can’t drag you down.” You don’t mean to say all this, but the alcohol is still coursing through your system and the courage still sits in your stomach.

San intakes a sharp breath. “What do you mean by that?”

You shrug. “You have a job, a life here. I’m here temporarily. When my contract ends next month, what am I supposed to do? I don’t want to go back to the city and leave you here, but I don’t have any idea what I’m supposed to do here.”

San sighs, letting his head sit atop yours, his cheek pressed against your hair. “Well, we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. I wouldn’t mind if you went back to the city if you visited. I wouldn’t mind if you stayed with me until you get back on your feet if you decide to end your contract. Hell, I’m sure Mr Takeru would be happy to employ you on his own dime, or someone else in town would take you on. But I’m glad you came to me, okay? I want to help you.”

You can feel your eyes stinging, and you curse yourself for drinking so much that it makes you too emotional for your liking. “Okay,” you concede with a soft voice. “Thank you, San.”

He presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “Of course, YN,” he smiles, and although you can’t see it, you hear it in his voice. “Now let’s talk later, okay? You need to go to bed.”

“Later sounds good,” you sigh, letting your body weight lean even more against San’s broad shoulders. “See you later.”

“Not right now,” San chuckles. “We’re almost home, come on. As much as it’s safe on the island, it’s chilly tonight, and I think you’d probably prefer sleeping in a bed.”

“Hmm, bed,” you repeat, yawning. “I like the idea.”

“I’m sure you do.”

The rest of the night is mostly calm, save for San convincing you to go to the bathroom to change, and not undressing in front of him. As he helps you brush your hair as you sit on your bed, you can’t help but to reach up and put your hands on his waist.

“You know, I really like you,” you mumble. The alcohol has almost faded, but the tiredness has hit and you’re just as loopy as if you were still drunk. “I hope you know that.”

San chuckles, his hands slowing to a stop in your hair. “I do, YN. I do.” He leans down, pressing another kiss to the top of your head. “Get some rest, okay? I’ll see you in the morning.”

He turns to leave, but not until you grab his wrist. “Wait! What about here?” you pout, pointing to your lips, and San arches an eyebrow, a smile toying at the corners of his lips and a laugh threatening to escape.

“Maybe tomorrow, if you ask me, okay? Good night, YN.” And with that, he leaves you to sleep, a smile plastered onto your face as you dream of his touch.

When you reawaken, you feel fully rested, yawning as you slip out of bed quickly and easily. A quick glance at your clock tells you it’s almost noon and you curse yourself for drinking so heavily. You’re never letting Wooyoung talk you into such a thing again.

As you make your way out of your room, you find Mr Takeru sitting on the couch. “Miss YN, come sit with me, okay? I want to talk to you.”

You pause, heart freezing. “Ah– sure, Mr Takeru. Nothing bad, I hope.”

The older man chuckles, waving his hand. “Of course not. This is something both Wooyoung and San have come to me about.”

You blink. “Ah.” You’re going to kill Wooyoung, and think about killing San (You’re too attached to him to follow though).

Mr Takeru laughs again. “I said it wasn’t bad, child, don’t look like you’re about to faint, please. San had expressed his affection for you to me, and Wooyoung has talked about how, in his words, ‘both of them are dumb as rocks and won’t date yet’. I’m quite aware that your contract with me is ending soon.” He pauses to take in a breath. “I would like to offer you a job with me off contract. That means you won’t be with your agency anymore.”

You blink at him. “I…I’m sorry, it’s a lovely offer, and I’m quite inclined to take it, but can I ask why? I mean, it would be cheaper for you to hire from the agency, and I’m sure I could figure something else out.”

“Miss YN, I’m sure you’re well aware I am not in much need of money. San runs the farm beautifully, and even though he is paid generously, the earnings far exceed what I need. And, as I have talked to Mayor Gil, Seonghwa, and Hongjoong, the clinic is happy to contract you so that in the case that I no longer require your services, you may work with them.”

You blink at him, your lower lip quivering. It takes you a moment to compose yourself, and Mr Takeru waits patiently. “The offer is so generous, and I would be a fool to decline it. I really do appreciate it, Mr Takeru.”

Your boss smiles. “Don’t worry about it, okay? Think of it as a favour to San as well. He’s worked for me for so long, he’s like one of my own grandchildren.” He pauses, letting out a yawn. “Now, go find him and tell him the good news, okay? I’d like to take a long nap.”

With a moment to compose yourself, you stand from the couch. “Thank you again, Mr Takeru,” you repeat sincerely. “I’ll prep lunch and put it in the fridge for when you wake up, okay?”

He waves you away, already getting ready to lay down on the couch. “Don’t worry about it. Mayor Gil is coming around to have lunch with me, and he’ll bring me something from the inn.” With another yawn, you know your conversation is over, and you spin on your heel and race out of the house, only one thing on your mind.

“San, are you in here?” you call out as you reach the ajar barn doors. “I need to talk to you.”

“I’ll be right down, just filling up the dispenser.” You can hear San’s voice from the loft and you look up, squinting through the sunrays filtering through the holes in the roof. The carpenters have been working on fixing that before the next rain.

Your gaze is drawn away by San climbing down the ladder, an extra bale of hay perched on his shoulders. As he turns around and you catch a glimpse of his face, your breath catches in your throat.

There wasn't ever a time where you thought sweat and grime on a person could be attractive…at least until right at this very moment. Sweat is glistening on his face, dripping off his cheekbones and chin, and all you can think about is swiping your tongue over his lips to taste it. The sight of it only serves to remind you of your drunken request to San, and his one condition that you ask him about it the next day.

“YN? Is there something you wanted to ask me?”

You blink up at him, eyes wide. “Can I get my kiss now?”

That was not what was supposed to come out of your mouth, but it’s too late to rectify it, so you’re left looking up at a dumbfounded San. The silence goes on for just a tad too long and you’re too embarrassed to face him now, so you turn on your heel and start to exit the barn, hopefully to drown your sorrows and yourself in the hot spring.

Before you can even step foot onto the threshold, however, San grabs your arm and gently tugs you into his warm chest. “Now wait just a moment,” he hums, chest vibrating against your back. His smell fills your mind and you tilt your gaze up to see him looking right back at you with such warmth in his eyes. “I didn’t give you your kiss yet.”

“Oh–” is all you manage to squeak out before San’s lips are on yours and you immediately melt into the kiss. His arm pulls you even closer against his body, his lips soft and inviting. “San–”

He doesn’t give you a moment to speak, his mouth capturing every sound escaping past your lips. You can feel every breath against your lips, his tongue pressing against the seam of your lips. Slowly, you part your lips for him and he wastes no time to map out your mouth, taking the air out of your lungs at how desperately he kisses.

As you fall deeper into his embrace, your arms come to loop around his waist, resting by his hips as your hands grip onto his shirt. His own hands roam up and down your sides, gripping at your waist and keeping you pulled against him. One of them finds its way to your face, cupping it with a gentleness that rivals the roughness of his mouth.

You could stay here like this for hours, but your lungs disagree, and after they scream at you for some air, you finally pull away, gasping softly as you lean your forehead against San’s. “San,” you call his name again, although this time your words aren’t interrupted by his lips but your lack of air. You take in one more breath, San waiting patiently as he looks at you like you put the stars in the sky yourself. “San, I like you. And I’m sure I’m just stating the obvious, but again, I do. I want to stay here with you, and just this morning Mr Takeru has offered me a personal contract with him. That’s what I wanted to tell you.”

San laughs, his hand on your waist moving up to stroke your cheek. “I know, YN. I asked Mr Takeru to make you the offer. Or, to be more precise, I implied that he should make you the offer, and I did that because Wooyoung implied to me to do that.” He tilts his head to press a short and sweet kiss to your lips again, chuckling to himself at how you follow his lips when he pulls back.

“Of course he did,” you roll your eyes good-naturedly, nodding as you lean up on your tiptoes to try and steal another kiss. “Nothing will ever be kept secret with his big mouth. Can we go back to kissing now? It’s easier.”

You can practically see the eagerness shine to San’s eyes. Instead of an answer, he tilts his head down to meet your waiting lips. This time, though, your makeout session is sadly cut short.

“So you two are finally together?”

You’re not too embarrassed to admit you shrieked, jumping out of your skin and burying your face in San’s chest. You can hear both San and Seonghwa chuckle, San’s arm tightening around your body. “Thanks to you, Seonghwa,” San hums. “We both really appreciate your role in this.”

“It’s no problem whatsoever. And as surly as Hongjoong can be, he’s happy to have someone else on board. But I’ll let you two get back to…talking. I was just passing through to have lunch with the jeweller. Have a good day, you two.” With a wave that you see out of the corner of your eye, Seonghwa leaves.

“I’m never going back to the town hall again,” you mumble against San’s shirt. “I can’t face Seonghwa again.”

San rubs your back with a comforting hand, although you can feel his chest rumble with quiet laughter. “I’m sure he understands, YN. Plus, look on the bright side. At least he didn’t walk in on a more intimate moment.”

Your head snaps up, heat blooming in your cheeks as you slap his shoulder. “San! We’re in the barn!”

A smirk is the only warning you get before San wraps both his arms around you and hoists you into the air, ignoring your squeal. “My house is just across the creek, you know. We don’t have to be in the barn.” You swear he can see how flustered you are just by your expression, and it only seems to egg him on. His one hand moves down to hold you up by your thighs, and you don’t think your face could get any hotter. “Shall we celebrate?”

“San–” you start to decline, but then you pause, casting a glance over your shoulder. Seeonghwa is long gone, and you’re sure Mr Takeru and the Mayor will be talking for a good few hours. “...All right. But put me down!”

Laughing, San happily sets you on your feet, leaning in to press his lips against yours again. “I really am glad you decided to stay, YN. Thank you for choosing me.”

“And if given the chance, I would choose you over and over San.” You smile up at him, reaching up to cup his face and pull him in for yet another kiss. Although the future seems uncertain, you’ll be happy to navigate it with him by your side.

[wongyuseokie]

Drift Away | k.m.g

Summary: You made the biggest mistake of your life, and now, Mingyu is trying his hardest to forget and forgive you, but how long till your infidelity rips you both apart? Besides, it’s not like you’d blame him. You hurt him. You did the one thing you promised never to do.

☆ 18+ minors dni |☀︎fluff | ☁︎ angst | ♕ smut |  ♥ completed works

Word Count: 9321 words

Pairings: Kim Mingyu x Female Reader

Genre/Trope(s)/AUs: Fluff, Smut & Angst, Idol! AU, but like it’s not that important. It just sets the tone, I guess? Like why he stays in a dorm, etc.

Content Warnings: Cheating AU! slut shaming, blaming, crying, fighting. Soonyoung is kind of a dick, but it’s truly very warranted. Chan makes lame jokes, and it’s adorable. Cheol is the best human ever. Insecurities about wealth and fame gap between the reader and Gyu. Mingyu is honestly the bestest boy ever, and the reader makes a terrible choice, but let’s see.

Smut Warnings: Unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, pussy slapping (like once). Is Mingyu growling a warning? Creampie. I think that’s it.

Authors Note: This fic involves infidelity, I don’t condone it, but I’m aware it’s different for everyone, just know that this is a work of fiction, and you should never feel like you should accept anything, but the best for you 🥺 High key broke my own heart writing this.

Authors Note 2: Thank you so much to @spacequokka​ for beta'ing this angsty mess for me. I love you dearly for this! 💕 also, thank you so much to my fellow emotional mess baby @the-boy-meets-evil​ for helping me edit. Finally, a big thank you to my lovely SVTHub friends for reading this over thank you lovelies, @multi-kpop-fanfics​, @bitchlessdino​ and thank you @onlymingyus​ for the title 💕

Authors Note 3: Also if you’ve seen this fic before, it’s because it was something I’d published once for a different group, but I wanted to revisit and rework it 🩷

Cross Posted to AO3

© wongyuseokie 2023. All rights reserved.

“So, I thought we could go on a road trip, just you and I. I know things haven’t been great, but I thought this could help us reconnect,” you suggested to Mingyu during dinner, and you could see him roll his eyes at you.

“I’m trying to make an effort here,” you mumbled, making Mingyu glare at you.

“Because that’ll make everything you did okay?” Mingyu asked, and you looked down in shame.

“Gyu, it was a mistake,” you defended weakly, sliding your hand over to hold his, making him flinch and move his hand away from you.

“You fucked someone else. I asked you if I was enough, and I wasn’t, so you left to find someone else,” Mingyu snarled, and you sighed.

“You were always gone for months on end–” you started to say, and Mingyu glared at you.

“Do not give me that shit, don’t you fucking dare. Do you realise I could have done the same thing? I know it’s not ideal to have me as your boyfriend, but I could have cheated on you, but I didn’t because I love you,” Mingyu’s voice cracked at the word love.

“I’m sorry,” you apologised.

“‘Sorry’ won’t change any of it,” Mingyu muttered.

“Then why are you still here?” You asked. There was no anger in your voice, just genuine and pure confusion. “Why stay?”

“Because…” Mingyu started to say, pausing to wipe a tear off his face. 

“Because I still fucking love you, like a moron. I want to believe that we can move past this,” Mingyu admitted.

Your heart broke at the sight, and you got up from your seat, walked over to Mingyu and motioned to his lap, and Mingyu nodded slowly. You slid into his lap and wrapped your arms around his neck.

“I’ll do anything. I promise I won’t hurt you again,” you promised, and Mingyu simply stared at you as you held his face in your hands.

“Y/N,” Mingyu stopped you as you moved to kiss him.

“I can’t, not yet, at least,” Mingyu admitted, and you nodded quickly, sliding off his lap.

“Look, I’ll be in the bedroom. I’ve lost my appetite.” Mingyu said, sliding out of his seat and heading upstairs. You felt tears run down your face, and you hated that you were the one crying when you did this.

You wiped your tears away, cleaned up the table, and headed to the bedroom, smiling softly when you noticed Mingyu sitting on the bed, running a towel through his freshly washed hair.

“Can I help you?” Mingyu asked, snapping you out of your daydream.

“Uh, I can take the couch,” you mumbled. “No. You can take the guest room, not the fucking couch. You don’t need to punish yourself. It won’t give me any comfort,” Mingyu spat, “and,” he added, voice softer. “I said we shouldn’t sleep separately because we will get comfortable like that, and then this will be over,” Mingyu added.

“I’m giving you space,” you mumbled. It made Mingyu sigh, drop the towel on the bed and walk over to you.

“You had space when I went on tour, and you fucked someone else, so no. I don’t think space is what we need,” Mingyu explained, and you looked down, unable to look him in the eyes.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” you said dumbly, knowing that you already had hurt him, which made  Mingyu glare at you.

“You broke me. There’s nothing else left to break. However, for some ridiculous reason, I still fucking love you, and I’m trying not to get mad because, despite the fact you slept with someone else, I still want you in my life,” Mingyu said, gritting his teeth.

You stayed still, unsure what to say, unable to look him in the eyes. Mingyu just huffed out in annoyance at your silence.  

“I’m going to bed. You do what you want. That’s what you seem to be good at anyway,” Mingyu scoffed as he moved away from you and moved to lie down on the bed and sleep.

You hopped into the shower once Mingyu started snoring softly, and you prayed that the running water would drown out your sobs. You had done the worst thing possible to the kindest person ever and had the nerve to cry.

You finished quickly and found Mingyu’s shirt hanging on the door and, out of habit, slipped it on once you dried yourself.

Once you exited the shower, you found your spot on the bed next to him, and out of habit again, Mingyu sleepily wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you into his chest.

You heard his soft snores and allowed yourself to fall asleep in his embrace, and just for a minute, imagine that your relationship was fine. Even then, peace was elusive as your mind replayed the day you told Mingyu that you cheated and how broken and devastated he looked.

“Mingyu, sit,” you said, your voice low and emotionless. Mingyu looked concerned but did as you asked and sat down next to you.

“Wait, are you breaking up with me the day after I got back from tour? Because ouch,” Mingyu joked, and you shook your head.

“No, but you might.”

Mingyu’s smile vanished when he noticed the lack of humour in your voice.

“What happened? Are you pregnant? Because if so, we can deal with it,” Mingyu offered, and you simply shook your head, your heart aching at how kind and considerate he was.

“You weren’t here for so long. It was the night after we got into a fight, and it was so fucking stupid–”

Mingyu felt his world fall apart as the words left your mouth. “You didn’t because you said you love me,” Mingyu interrupted, refusing to believe a word, and you looked up at him, eyes red and puffy.

“Was it once?” Mingyu asked, and you nodded.

“It was so fucking stupid,” you choked out, and Mingyu pressed his lips together.

“You know, of all the people in the world, I didn’t think you’d be the one to make me feel like this,” Mingyu choked out, his voice cracking. You tried to reach out and touch his hand, and Mingyu flinched.

“Don’t you fucking dare! When and where?” Mingyu yelled, and you shrank.

“Does it matter?” You asked, and Mingyu glared at you.

“It fucking matters,” he snapped. You nodded.

“His place. I left after it happened. I just felt so guilty,” you explained, your voice cracked with each word. Mingyu nodded.

“Well, you should. I’m glad you had the decency not to defile our bed,” Mingyu spat as he grabbed his bag, stood up, and took a deep breath before speaking again.

“I thought tonight I could make up for all the time I spend away from you. I would have held, touched, and kissed you all night. I would have spent all the time I had making it right, but you decided I wasn’t worth the wait,” Mingyu admitted with a broken sob, a sad smile gracing his handsome face.

“I was lonely,” you admitted weakly, needing to defend yourself. Mingyu scoffed at you.

“You don’t think I get lonely? I fucking do, but I didn’t once cheat because I love you and respect you. Sadly, you can’t say the same,” Mingyu stated.

“Mingyu, I love you. It was a mistake, a stupid fucking mistake. Please, just one more chance. I need you to know how sorry I am,” you begged, and Mingyu sighed.

“I need space from you. For now, I need to let my anger pass because right now, I can’t bear the sight of you,” Mingyu said, and you just stared at him.

Mingyu sighed deeply and pulled you into his arms as you sobbed into his chest.

“I’m so fucking sorry,” you cried, and Mingyu placed a soft kiss on your forehead.

“I will reach out. Just give me some time,” Mingyu promised, a tight smile on his handsome face. You nodded as you watched him walk out the door, and you fell to the ground sobbing.

“Y/N, wake up,” Mingyu said, shaking you awake.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Mingyu asked as he switched on the light and noticed your tear-stained face. You couldn’t bear to look at him, not when he was still concerned about your well-being, not when you had broken his heart.

“Mingyu, I’m so fucking sorry,” you wailed.

“I know.”

You whimpered as the sobs wouldn’t stop. “I just need time,” Mingyu said, and you nodded.  

“Why did you stay? Why didn’t you leave me?” you asked, and Mingyu shrugged.

“It takes a lot more effort to stay and make a relationship work than just to get up and leave. Unless that’s why you cheated? Did you want an out?” Mingyu explained, and you shook your head at his question.

“No. I just wanted to feel less lonely,” you explained weakly, and Mingyu sighed.

“I know I still love you. I just can’t trust you yet. I need time to heal,” Mingyu admitted.

“Mingyu?” You said softly, and Mingyu smiled softly back at you, wiped your tears away, and gently placed his lips on yours. It was the first time he had kissed you since the night you told him.

“Give me time,” Mingyu repeated, and you nodded as Mingyu turned off the light and laid back down, and you laid down next to him, feeling him pull you in again. Tighter against him this time, you felt yourself drift off into a dreamless sleep.

You woke up the following day, found Mingyu fast asleep, and smiled when you saw how handsome and calm he looked. You got out of bed and made your way into the shower and then to the kitchen.

“Morning,” you heard Mingyu as you felt his arms wrap around your waist, his lips gently meeting your neck, making you sigh as you melted against his touch.

“Shit, sorry,” Mingyu cursed, pulling away from you.

“Habit, I guess,” Mingyu mumbled, making you pout, not letting his actions affect you too much.

He had every right to be upset.

“So, um. What are you up to today?” you asked as you handed Mingyu a cup of tea.

“I think Seungcheol hyung is coming by to hand me a present of some sort,” Mingyu replied.

Mingyu bit his lip. He wanted to warn you and tell you that the boys deeply resented you for what you did. At the same time, he wanted to see you feel as horrible as he did, so he kept his mouth shut.

“Oh! I’ll get that,” you offered when you heard a knock on the front door, and Mingyu hesitated, hoping to stop you, but he nodded.

You couldn’t hide from the boys; they had been waiting to chew you out since the day they found out. However, Mingyu was glad it was Seungcheol who was headed over. He could trust his hyung to be diplomatic. He could not expect that of Soonyoung or Chan.

“Y/N,” Seungcheol greeted you. The eyes that once held fondness and love for you were now filled with rage and anger.

“Mingyu, good to see you,” Seungcheol said as he embraced him. You wanted to leave the room, unable to hide your shame.

“Y/N, we don’t usually ever get involved in one another’s business, especially not relationships. However, the way Mingyu cried after what you did, you need to understand that none of us are your biggest fans right now,” Seungcheol spoke, and you could only look at the floor, unable to make eye contact out of embarrassment.

Seungcheol wasn’t one to get involved in his members’ love lives, but he knew Mingyu would sugarcoat everything for you, and he wasn’t going to let you think that the rest of Mingyu’s members were okay with you.

“If Mingyu chooses to forgive you, that’s his right and choice. We’ll support him, but I can speak on behalf of the other members. None of us are keen on you right now,” Seungcheol continued to elaborate.

Seungcheol’s words broke your heart; out of all the members, you had grown very close to him and Soonyoung. You knew Soonyoung would probably kill you if he saw you, but Seungcheol could be reasonable.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered, and Seungcheol scoffed.

“Not the one you need to apologise to,” Seungcheol bit back, and Mingyu knew he had to say something now.

God knows you apologised enough times.

“Hyung, um, what did you get me?” Mingyu asked in an attempt to dissipate the tension. Seungcheol smiled as he faced Mingyu.

“I got you a birthday present,” Seungcheol replied, and Mingyu laughed.

“Seven months in advance?” Mingyu asked.

Seungcheol shrugged. “I forget birthdays, except mine, so yeah, it’s an all-expense paid weekend at a fancy hotel, you know, wine, room service, the whole nine yards.” Seungcheol took a breath.

“I got it before all this happened. It was something for you two,” Seungcheol added, his words piercing your heart again.

“Hyung, we can still use it. If not, I can just use it myself, starfish on the bed,” Mingyu interjected, which made Seungcheol smile.

“Anyways. That’s all I came for. I’ll see you in the evening,” Seungcheol said, and Mingyu nodded and saw Seungcheol out.

“Hyung, she’s trying,” Mingyu pleaded once he was outside his front door as he tried to reason with Seungcheol, who simply sighed.

“I don’t doubt it, but she cheated on you,” Seungcheol said.

“She won’t do it again,” Mingyu asserted.

“I hope she doesn’t,” Seungcheol added, smiling sadly at Mingyu, who smiled back.

“Hyung, I love her, and if I can’t make this work, then I’ll leave, but right now, I want to have faith,” Mingyu spoke genuinely, meaning every word.

“Fair enough. Look, just try and keep her away from the studios and dorms for now. I can keep my cool, and so can the others, but Soonyoung will definitely tear her a new one,” Seungcheol warned.

“Yeah. I will. Thank you for the present again,” Mingyu thanked Seungcheol.

“Take care, Gyu.”

“Um, I have rehearsals. I won’t be home until eight. Do you think you’ll be okay?” Mingyu asked, and you nodded.

“Yeah. I have a few meetings, and I have some work to do. Did you want to have dinner?” you asked, and Mingyu nodded slowly.

“I can give you a heads up if I am back in time?” Mingyu suggested, and you nodded, smiling sadly at him.

“They’ll come around, you know?” Mingyu added.

“It’s okay if they don’t. I mean, I wouldn’t blame them, ” you responded.

“They will. I mean. I’m trying,” Mingyu explained.

“Mingyu?”

“Yes?”

“How long will you keep trying for? I’m not asking you to dismiss the fact that you are already doing something that most people wouldn’t consider doing. I want to know because I don’t want to keep holding you down from finding the one.”

“You were the one at one point for me,” Mingyu started, and you felt your throat tighten with emotion.

“Maybe you still are. But to answer your question, I guess I will try until I no longer imagine you underneath another man. Last night when I kissed you, I felt like I was being burned. It hurts to physically love you right now, so if it comes to a point where one day I know I can’t look at you and not hate what you did, then yeah, we can move on,” Mingyu admitted.

“And if we can’t?” you asked, your voice small.

“Then we’re done,” Mingyu said, his tone calm and final.

“I need to go; I’ll message you if I am late,” Mingyu said, and you nodded at him.

“You’re late,” your boss remarked as you walked in, well, ran into the office.

“Sorry,” you said breathlessly. Your boss simply shrugged at you.

“Can I see you? In my office?” He asked before heading back to his office.

You nodded, followed your boss to his office, and waited for him to close the door behind you.

“Please don’t fire me. I can do better,” you begged, your voice cracking.

Your boss shook his head.

“Not here to fire you, but I’m worried,” he explained, and you nodded.

“Relationship problems?” Your boss suggested, and you nodded.

“Do you need to talk to anyone?” Your boss asked kindly, and you shook your head. “It’s my doing,” you explained, and your boss nodded, not pushing it any further.

“Well. I need you to manage this client. You have a natural knack for charming the shit out of fancy clients, so do it well, and we can secure a retainer, and you can secure a wonderful bonus,” your boss explained, and you smiled at him.

“Anything else?” you asked, and your boss shook his head, smiling.

“Thank you so much once again for the meeting. I know it’s late, but we appreciate the effort,” your clients thanked you at the end of the meeting, and you nodded, thanking your million-dollar clients.

You left once they left the conference room and fished out your phone.

“Fuck,” you cursed when you saw it was nine, and you had ten missed calls from Mingyu and several messages. You grabbed your things and tried to drive home as quickly and safely as possible.

“Mingyu, I’m so sorry. I got caught up in work,” you explained hurriedly the second you walked into the apartment, and Mingyu simply hummed.

“I got hungry. I ate without you,” Mingyu deadpanned.

“Y/N?” Mingyu asked, and you turned around to see Mingyu glaring at you.

“Yes?”  

“Where were you?” Mingyu asked as he walked closer to you.

“I was at work. I have a new client, and they wanted to go over so many things,” you explained.

“You sure? Or were you with someone?” Mingyu taunted, and you shook your head at him.

“Mingyu, no, I would never,” you said, and Mingyu scoffed.

“You have,” he bit back.

“Not again,” you said firmly. Mingyu sighed.

“You know, the entire time I was waiting for you. I couldn’t help but think about it. I was wondering if you found someone else. If you were ignoring my phone calls because someone else was making you feel so good that you forgot about me,” Mingyu said.

“I love you, and I know my actions have not matched that, but I would never do what I did again. Ever,” you explained again, and Mingyu sighed.

“I guess I just have to believe you, right?” Mingyu asked with a dark chuckle.

“If you want to go or leave me, then you can,” you offered, and Mingyu shook his head.

“I need to be able to trust you again,” Mingyu explained, and you nodded.

“I was at work. I didn’t meet up with anyone,” you repeated.  

“As I said, I don’t have a choice but to believe you,” Mingyu mumbled, and you frowned.

“Look, how about you join me? We can watch Netflix, and you can eat your dinner. I’ll join you for ice cream?” Mingyu suggested, and you smiled, nodding at him.

You rushed up the stairs to take a shower and change into his shirt quickly. You often forgot they weren’t your clothes; you were so used to wearing them.

Once you were done with your shower, you headed downstairs, grabbed your food, and sat on the couch three spots away from Mingyu, making him smile.

“I won’t bite.”

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” Mingyu nodded.

“Just sit next to me.” You smiled and scooted over next to him.

“So, these new clients, what do they do?” Mingyu asked, making you glare at him.

“Are you interrogating me?” You asked, and Mingyu sighed.

“No. I’m asking you because I’m your boyfriend. I want to know about your day. However, your reaction makes me wonder why you’re so defensive,” Mingyu explained, and you pouted, placing your food on the coffee table in front of you and turning to face him.

“I’m so sorry. I  broke your trust and your heart. I won’t do it again,” you apologised.

“Shouldn’t have ever happened,” Mingyu mumbled, and you stayed quiet, knowing you shouldn’t defend yourself.

“Y/N? Why? I know you said you were lonely, but why?” Mingyu asked.

You took a deep breath as you looked up at him, his eyes watery, and you hated that you were the cause of it.

“You remember when you were on tour, we got into this huge fight because you missed three FaceTime calls with me, and you fell asleep on the one you did remember,” you cringed as you recalled the incident.

Nothing you were going to say would make anything that you did okay.

“Right, yes, so you cheated on me because I was inattentive?” Mingyu asked, not a hint of anger in his words, just pure confusion.

“I mean, after that call, we got into a huge fight, and we didn’t even speak for another two days, and I just felt neglected,” you added.

“So one night, when I saw you giggling on a live later, I got annoyed, went to a bar after work, and well, yeah, you know the rest,” you trailed off.

“Do I know him?” Mingyu asked.

“No, I don’t even know him,” you mumbled.

“So you threw it all away for a perfect stranger?” Mingyu asked.

“Tell me. What did he do to you? What did you do to him?” Mingyu asked, and you shook your head.

“Mingyu, I don’t want to hurt you,” you tried to protest, making Mingyu scoff.

“You already have. Tell me,” Mingyu repeated, and you took a deep breath before responding.

“He went down on me, and he then fucked me,” you said quickly, like you were ripping off a band-aid.

“You didn’t go down on him?” He asked.

“No,” you said, your voice small, and Mingyu nodded.

“Did you at least use a condom?” Mingyu asked, and you nodded.

“Did you feel good? Just for that moment? Did you get what you wanted?” Mingyu asked.

“I guess I got the attention I wanted. However, no. I didn’t feel good about it; I hated myself for it,” you admitted.

“Look. I told you I want to work on us and move on from what happened, so I appreciate your honesty. However, you need to understand why I might be suspicious,” Mingyu explained, and you nodded.

“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something, but I need liquor, wine?” Mingyu asked, and you smiled, nodding at him. Mingyu smiled at you as he got off the couch, headed into the kitchen, and returned a couple of minutes later with a bottle of red wine and two glasses.

“Here you go,” Mingyu said as he handed you a glass and sat down on the couch, this time sitting closer to you.  

“So Seungcheol hyung, he’s throwing a dinner thing next week,” Mingyu explained.

“I can make myself scarce,” you interrupted, and Mingyu smiled softly at you, shaking his head.

“No, he wants you there,” Mingyu said, taking a sip of his drink.

“Why?” you asked, unable to hide the shock in your voice, and Mingyu smiled softly at you,

“Because I want you there,” Mingyu responded, and you downed your glass of wine in response to his comment and placed the glass down before speaking.

“Mingyu, I don’t want to impose. Not in a room full of people who hate me,” you said, hating how weak you sounded when this was all your doing. Mingyu smiled softly at you before taking a sip of his drink.

“No one–okay, aside from Soonyoung–no one hates you,” Mingyu admitted.

“I know I have no right to be upset, not when I did this, but I feel so fucking stupid. I feel stupid for having the audacity to be upset when this is my doing,” you confessed, feeling pathetic for being upset. However, Mingyu smiled softly at you.

“Look. You have a week to decide if you don’t want to go. I won’t force you. However, it would be nice,” Mingyu offered.

“I’ll be there,” you said, your voice still soft, and Mingyu smiled at you.

“Good. Another glass?” Mingyu asked, motioning to your empty glass.

“Yes, please.”

You and Mingyu didn’t speak much, choosing to watch a Netflix series and just be near one another, trying and be normal.

“Mingyu?” You called out his name halfway through an episode, and Mingyu turned to smile at you,

“Yeah?” He responded, eyes still on the screen.

You hesitated for a second, “Can I, um. Never mind,” you mumbled, swallowed  your words, and Mingyu groaned, pausing the show.

“What?” He asked, looking at you.

“Can I get a bit of the blanket? I’m cold,” you asked, rubbing your palms together as if to prove a point, and Mingyu grinned, lifting the blanket off him and holding it up.

“Come on. You’ll freeze,” Mingyu said, motioning for you to join him under the blanket, and you froze in a different way.

“Y/N, I’m trying here, but you need to meet me halfway. I can grab another blanket for you, but I’d like to share one with my girlfriend,” Mingyu stated, making your heart swell as you nodded and crawled into and curled into his side.

“The new client, they’re designers, they deal with luxury goods, and they need someone to guide them through our consulting process and how we can be an asset to them,” you mumbled, and Mingyu smiled at you, happy to have a normal conversation with you.

“So, fancy rich people?” Mingyu joked, and you nodded.

“I’m aiming to secure a retainer agreement with them,” you explained, and Mingyu nodded,

“Well, make sure you rest in between, okay? Because you always overextend yourself, and I don’t want you burning out,” Mingyu spoke softly, and you smiled fondly at him.

“I won’t,” you promised, and Mingyu smiled, holding out his pinkie to you, “promise?” He asked, and you laughed and laced your finger with his.

“I promise,” you said, and Mingyu smiled, letting go of your hand, and pulled you closer to his side.

“Okay, now can we find out what happens in this episode?” Mingyu asked, and you rolled your eyes at him.

“Gyu, it’s Suits. Harvey Specter will do something that is not viable in reality and save the day,” you explained. The lawyer in you just could not refrain from describing how wrong Suits was.

“You called me Gyu,” Mingyu mumbled.

“Shit, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to,” you apologised, and Mingyu paused the episode and turned to face you, his legs around you as you sat in the space between his legs.

“You know, all of the restraining, the formalities. I get why you’ve held back, but it’s been two months. I’m not mad at you for calling me Gyu. It made me happy. You’ve imposed all these restrictions on yourself, none of which I asked you to do. I’m not blaming or scolding you. I’m simply saying that I want you to be yourself—the funny, unfiltered, loving and frankly unrestrained woman that I fell in love with. I know you’ll say that you hurt me being that, but I just don’t want to dwell anymore,” Mingyu explained, and you nodded.

“Gyu,” you repeated, and Mingyu smiled at you before frowning when he realised you were crying.

“Hey now, why are you crying,” Mingyu asked.

“You’re so fucking, patient. You’re so kind for what I did, and I hate that I’m the one falling apart,” you admitted, and Mingyu smiled at you, wiping a tear off your face.

“In some sick way, I appreciate it because I know you regret what you did. It’d be worse if you acted so normal. If you showed no remorse, then I’d be like fuck. I’m on my way, I guess.” Mingyu confessed, wiping your tears.

“I’m so sorry,” you apologised.

“I know. You’ve said it enough times. So I know you’re sorry, but as I said, I need time, but I don’t want to act or walk around eggshells with you because then one day that will end up blowing up in our faces,” Mingyu explained, and you nodded.

“I don’t deserve you,” you mumbled, and Mingyu sighed and pulled you closer to him.

“You don’t, but I love you. So let me decide if I can do this?” Mingyu said, and you nodded, smiling softly as Mingyu wiped another tear off your face.

“Now, can I watch Harvey Specter save the day?” Mingyu asked, and you smiled at him as he pressed play.

Mingyu adjusted himself so you were lying on his chest as you watched the episode. Mingyu shifted slightly, making his leg brush against your underwear, making you bite your lip, an action that did not go unnoticed by Mingyu.

“What?” Mingyu asked, and you shook your head.

“Nothing,” you mumbled before fixing your eyes back on the screen.

Mingyu smirked, shifting his leg again, and you couldn’t help the soft moan that fell from your lips.

“You liked that?” Mingyu teased, and you sighed, nodding, making him smirk as you both continued to watch Suits.

However, he adjusted himself, and you were sitting between his legs, his large hands tracing small circles on your thigh.

Mingyu suddenly paused the show and asked you to turn around. You did as he asked, and he pulled you into his lap.

“Kiss me,” Mingyu whispered, his hands wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

You smiled as you touched his lips, groaning immediately when you tasted him for the first time in months. You were kissing him, not just a peck, but a kiss.

You felt him run his tongue along your bottom lip, and he slipped his tongue inside you. You moaned into his mouth and kept kissing him until he slowly pulled away from you.

You were about to apologise in case you went too far, but Mingyu pulled you in for another kiss. You moaned into the kiss as his bulge pressed into your cloth-covered cunt. Mingyu moved quickly and pulled his cock out.

“I need to feel you,” Mingyu muttered against your lips, and you moaned and nodded. Mingyu moved your panties to the side, ran his cock against your folds and pushed into you.

“Fuck,” you choked out, your hands gripping his hair for support.

“You’re so fucking tight. So fucking tight,” Mingyu groaned as he let his cock stretch you open. You moaned as Mingyu guided his cock in and out of you.

He laid back and let you fall on his chest before he picked his pace, thrusting into you relentlessly. The lack of sex between the two of you meant that you both came quickly. You simply continued to kiss him, scared to speak as if it’d ruin the moment.

You rested your head against Mingyu’s chest as you felt him soften inside you, his warmth coating your walls.

“Mingyu?” you asked softly, noticing that your boyfriend’s expression didn’t match yours.

“Did you kiss that guy?” Mingyu asked, and you sighed, climbing off his lap.

“Mingyu, don’t,” you begged, making him scoff at you.

“I did. I’m so sorry,” you apologised, and Mingyu sighed, standing up and pulling his trousers up.

“This was way too quick. I know I initiated it, so I’m not mad at you, but right now, I can’t look at you,” Mingyu admitted, taking a deep breath before delivering the words that made you despise yourself further.

“The entire time I was inside you, all I could think about was the fact that you probably moaned the same way for that other guy. Looking just as fucked out, and that’s not an image I can get over so easily,” Mingyu continued.  

“I’m going to bed,” Mingyu said, not sparing you a glance and heading upstairs.

You decided to stay downstairs the entire night. It would do neither of you any good to be near one another now. You felt terrible. You should have stopped him, but you missed his touch.

You hated how you had become a slave to your instincts.

“Hey. Oh, you’re leaving?” Mingyu asked as he saw you sliding your heels on the following day.

“Yeah. Fancy clients, they call, I answer,” you replied.

“Like that guy in the bar? He snapped, and your face fell.

“Mingyu, I can do this with you after work. You can yell, scream and insult me as much as you need. Just not before work.” Mingyu’s glare intensified.

“Do you think I do it because I enjoy hurting you?” Mingyu asked, and you shook your head at him.

“Mingyu, I need to go,” you said, reaching for the doorknob, and Mingyu scoffed at you.

“Do you have anything you want to say?” Mingyu asked, and you sighed at him.

“I do. But I do not have the time for it now,” you explained, and Mingyu nodded.

“Just think about this as you go to work. Why do you have time for everyone except for me?” Mingyu said before storming upstairs.

“Y/N, well done. The clients are impressed with you, and I think we are getting closer to signing them,” Your boss praised after the meeting.

“Thanks,” you said with no real emotion, and your boss eyed you.

“Okay, what the hell? You should be happy?” your boss asked.

“My personal life is falling apart,” you admitted.

“Well, look. It’s already three. Why don’t you head home? You killed it today so that you can take the afternoon off,” your boss offered, and you thanked him profusely.

“Mingyu, I’m home. Oh,” you called out the second you entered the apartment and froze when you saw some of Mingyu’s members sitting in your living room. You got mixed reactions from all of them.

Seungcheol offered you a weak smile, Wonwoo nodded, Jun blinked a couple of times, and Jihoon looked your way to acknowledge your presence. You were thankful that the older members were discreet.

The same could not be said for the younger members.

“What are you doing here?” Chan asked, earning him a slight nudge from Jun for being disrespectful to someone older than him.

“I live here,” you muttered, and that was all it took for Soonyoung to snap.

“Right, because it’s your house, right?” Soonyoung fired back, knowing well that the building was in Mingyu’s name and not yours.

“I, um,” you stuttered, unsure of how to handle Soonyoung’s words.

“Y/N, why don’t you go to the bedroom? I’ll be done soon?” Mingyu interjected he couldn’t handle another fight with you, and he didn’t fancy seeing Soonyoung rip you to shreds, either. You gave Mingyu a forced smile and headed to his bedroom.

“Hey,” Mingyu said as he sat next to you on the bed.

“They’re uh gone. It’s safe for you to come out,” Mingyu explained, and you nodded.

“Does it bother you?” You asked.

“What bothers me?”

“The wealth gap between us,” you elaborated.

“You’re acting like you’re impoverished,” Mingyu scoffed, and he wasn’t wrong. You could live a very comfortable life without Mingyu’s wealth, but sometimes seeds of insecurity would get planted in your mind, and you’d wonder if you were enough.

“You know, if you dated an idol, she’d make as much money as you,” you said bitterly.

“I don’t say this to be a dick, but no. She wouldn’t. Frankly, what we make is very high. I’m grateful, but unless I’m dating another multimillionaire, then I’d still be earning more in a relationship,” Mingyu explained.

“She’d understand your life,” you offered, and Mingyu frowned.

“She’d understand that there would be lonely nights, weeks and months. She would get it, and she wouldn’t go looking for more when she had enough,” you admitted, feeling ashamed, feeling your voice crack.

“Is that why?” Mingyu asked.

“Why what?”

“Why you cheated,” Mingyu clarified.

“Oh god no, Mingyu, I wish I had a reason why, I don’t. It was dumb, it was stupid, and it’s something I’ll hate myself for doing to you. Nothing I did that night can justify why I did what I did. There’s nothing except a dumb fucking decision,” you rambled, not realising that you were crying until you realised that Mingyu inched closer to you, holding your face in his hands and wiping your tears.

“Don’t hate yourself. I don’t,” Mingyu said quietly.

“Why not?”

“I hate what you did, but to hate you? Fuck, that’s something I don’t think I can do,” Mingyu admitted.

“Soonyoung hyung was way out of line,” Mingyu added, understanding what your spiral was about, and you shook your head and gently moved his hands away from your face.

“No. He wasn’t. He’s protecting you,” you countered, and Mingyu shrugged, not wanting to argue with you.

“It wasn’t just Soonyoung hyung. I was out of line, too. I said some shitty things to you this morning and last night. Having sex with you again, trust me, for the most part, it was good, but the minute you started to moan and get close to cumming. I couldn’t help but think of you doing the same thing for another man,” Mingyu confessed.

“But I shouldn’t have lashed out like that. I should have stopped Soonyoung hyung today,” Mingyu mumbled as you stayed quiet.

“Say something, please?” Mingyu asked.

“You had every right to act the way you did, and Soonyoung wasn’t wrong in expressing his anger,” you said calmly, and Mingyu pouted at you.

“Okay, let’s change the topic. Why did you come back early?” Mingyu asked.

“The meeting went well, and I guess my boss saw me miserable, so he let me come back early,” you admitted with a soft smile.

“Lovely, then I’m ordering food, and we can spend the day together,” Mingyu said, clapping his hands, and you traced circles on his hand.

“Gyu?” You said, making him smile.

“Yes?” He asked. You held out your arms to him, and he smiled, pulling you into his lap for a hug. You held on tightly. It was so fragile, and you were so scared to let go. You pulled away slowly, your lips inches away from his.

“Kiss me,” Mingyu whispered, his lips ghosting yours. You smiled and placed your lips on his. The kiss escalated quickly, as it always did. From being in Mingyu’s lap, you were now lying under him as he kept kissing you. His tongue was deepening the kiss. His hand moved up your body until it landed on the button of your trousers.

“Can I?” Mingyu asked, and you nodded, and that’s all Mingyu needed.

Mingyu undid the button and pushed his hand down your trousers and past your panties. His fingers found your clit, and he started to rub. You moaned into the kiss. Whimpers and pants were leaving your lips as he rubbed your clit.

When he suddenly stopped, you were so scared that the events of last night would occur again. Instead, Mingyu moved away from the kiss, pulled your trousers and panties off, and laid between your legs.

Mingyu moved to let his mouth wrap around your clit, making you buck into his mouth. You wanted to scream his name but were so scared that you’d break this moment if you spoke. Not just for the sake of an incredible orgasm but because you felt as if things between you two could finally be okay.

A sharp slap to your clit took you out of your thoughts.

“Why aren’t you making any noise? Have I lost my touch?” Mingyu growled, and you shook your head.

“No, it’s just, fuck,” you could barely finish your sentence as Mingyu pushed three fingers into you.

You winced slightly at the stretch, slowly letting out a moan as his lips found your clit again. Mingyu licked and flicked your clit while thrusting his fingers in and out of you.

“Fuck, I’m going to cum,” you choked out as you grabbed the sheets. You came and felt Mingyu lick you more. His hands held your shaking legs in place as he licked you through your orgasm.

“Good?” Mingyu asked, moving up your body, capturing your lips with his.

“Yes,” you moaned into the kiss as Mingyu smiled into the kiss.

“Can I?” Mingyu asked, and you nodded, knowing what he wanted, as he pulled his shirt off and threw his shorts across the room as he lined his thick length against your cunt and pushed in.

“Fuck,” Mingyu groaned as he started to thrust into you.

“Baby, you’re so tight, and it’s been so long. I won’t last,” Mingyu groaned as he played with your clit.

“Cum, Mingyu,” you encouraged as Mingyu started to pound into you harder, making you squeal in pleasure as you came around him. Mingyu groaned as his orgasm followed soon after yours.

Mingyu pulled you in for another kiss before moving his lips away and pulling out of you.

“No, don’t just stay with me,” Mingyu said, pulling you back into his arms.

“Gyu?” He hummed.

“I love you,” you said, and Mingyu sighed, placing a kiss on your forehead. It stung when he didn’t say it back, but you couldn’t take it.

You’d do anything to make it right.

“Do I look okay?” You asked later that week as you stepped out of the bathroom wearing a simple black dress. Mingyu smiled at you.

“They’ll love you no matter what,” Mingyu offered casually, and you froze.

“I mean. Uh,” Mingyu fumbled, and you gave him a small smile at walked over to him.

“I know.” Mingyu sighed, placing a kiss on your forehead.

“You look lovely, and you know I’ll always think that, but please don’t go in expecting too much tonight,” Mingyu offered.

“I know,” you said with a sad smile, and Mingyu pouted slightly. He almost hated that he felt terrible for you, especially since you brought this upon yourself.

“Let’s go?” Mingyu asked.

The entire car ride to the dorm was quiet. You were both too nervous.

“Hey, look, they might be vicious. It’s just that they care for me, so they’ll get defensive,” Mingyu explained, and you nodded.

“Yeah. I’ll be brave,” you said, grinning.

Mingyu nodded at your comment. He knew you deserved their anger and resentment, but it didn’t mean that it made it easier for him to hear it. Mingyu hated watching you sink with every insult or backhanded comment that was thrown your way.

Mingyu knocked on the door while you prayed that one of the older members would open the door.

“Y/N, Mingyu, glad you two could make it,” Seungcheol said, smiling at Mingyu and nodding in your direction.

“Come in. There are drinks and appetisers being served now,” Mingyu nodded, guiding you into their dorm.

“Go sit, look Wonwoo hyung won’t bite. I’ll be there in a minute.” You tried to plead with him, but you knew that you had lost any upper hand you may have once had.

“May I sit?” You asked Wonwoo, who simply nodded. You sat down cautiously.

“Can I get you a drink?” Wonwoo asked.

“Careful, hyung. Alcohol is the reason she’s in this predicament,” Soonyoung muttered, and Wonwoo shot him a glare. While Wonwoo was beyond upset with you, he didn’t approve of Soonyoung’s behaviour either.

“Okay, I’m here. What did I miss?” Mingyu asked, sliding next to you.

“Nothing, Gyu,” you mumbled, curling into his side, and Mingyu simply stared at his hyungs, hoping one of them would tell him what transpired.

“Alright, let me get you a drink, gin and tonic, right?” Mingyu asked as he stood up and headed back into the kitchen before you could stop him.

“Alright, here you go,” Mingyu returned, thankfully, quickly as he handed you your drink.

“Oh, Mingyu, are you excited about your project? You’ll be co-writing with Yuri for her solo?” Jun asked in an attempt to ease the tension in the room.

“Actually, yeah. She texted me about the song. I think it’ll be really cool. I’m meeting her at her studio next week,” Mingyu responded, and you loved seeing how lively he looked when he spoke about his work.

“What’s the song about?” You asked, and you saw Mingyu freeze for a second.

“Heartbreak and betrayal,” Mingyu mumbled, and you simply took another sip of your drink.

“I mean, we should really thank you, Y/N. You gave Mingyu such amazing inspiration,” Soonyoung remarked sarcastically, and you cringed.

“Y/N, I left my planner in my room last week. Do you think you could get it?” Mingyu asked, and you nodded quickly, running away from the living room and upstairs to Mingyu’s bedroom, trying your hardest not to break down on your way.

You knew there was no planner, but you were grateful to Mingyu for giving you a reason to leave.

Back in the living room, Mingyu was trying his hardest to reason with Soonyoung.

“Hyung, I’m trying to fix things with her, but it won't work if you keep saying things like that. She’s sorry,” Mingyu pleaded, and Soonyoung scoffed.

“Cheaters don’t change, and to her credit, I can see she’s sorry, but you don’t deserve that, and I don’t know why you’re putting up with it. You could have anyone else, and you're choosing the one who broke your heart.”

“Hey.”

You heard a voice call, turned around to see Chan, and quickly wiped your face.

“Shit, you’re crying,” Chan muttered, closing the door behind him.

“No, uh, just allergies.” Chan laughed.

“Yeah, right,” Chan scoffed, and you sighed.

“Why are you here?” You asked, and Chan shrugged.

“Well, hyung sent me, and Soonyoung hyung is having a talk with Mingyu hyung. So you’ve got me,” Chan explained.  

“Can I ask you something?”

“Why? I mean, did he ever upset you or ignore you? Is there something we don’t know?” Chan asked.

“I was lonely. It’s not an excuse at all. We were fighting so much. I just wanted something to numb the pain.” Chan nodded.

“Alcohol would have been a better solution, literally. It’s a solution,” Chan joked as you let out a tearful chuckle.

“Yay, you smiled,” Chan cheered.

“Don’t you hate me?” You asked, and Chan shook his head.

“No. I’ll always be upset, but hyung isn’t a baby. He doesn’t need me to coddle him or fight for him. I’m not mean, but sometimes I can lash out, and even I can say that Soonyoung hyung took it too far. You’ve always made hyung happy, and if being with you makes him happy and he forgives you, then I think we should all make peace with it.” Chan offered.

“Chan, I need to talk to her,” a voice interrupted as you saw Mingyu enter the room.

“Sure,” Chan said, waving at you as he left the room.

“He forgave you?” Mingyu asked.

“No, but he said if I make you happy, then he’ll make his peace with it,” you explained.

“Fuck, well, this doesn’t make what I’m about to do next any easier,” Mingyu mumbled, and you knew. It was over. He tried and couldn’t, and you didn’t blame him.

“I’ll pack my things by the end of the day tomorrow,”  you said as you tried to get up, and Mingyu held your wrist gently.

“No, you keep that apartment. I want to have a fresh start. Most of my things are here anyway,” Mingyu countered.

“I can’t forgive you,” Mingyu admitted, and you simply nodded, eyes trained on the carpeted floor.

“Mingyu?” You whispered his name, and he looked at you.

“I’m so sorry,” you apologised.

“I can drive you back,” Mingyu offered, and you shook your head.

“No, I’ll take a cab,” you mumbled. Mingyu nodded and turned around.

“Then leave. I can’t pretend anymore,” Mingyu breathed out, and you could hear how shaky his voice was.

You placed your hand on his shoulder, squeezing it and left.

“Thank you for everything,” you said tearfully as you practically ran out of his bedroom and out of the dorms.

“Y/N!” Soonyoung ran after you, his hand on your wrist. The rest of the boys were confused for two reasons, one being that you left without Mingyu and the second that Soonyoung was the one that ran after you.

You were standing outside the dorm as Soonyoung held you in place.

“What the hell happened? Where are you going?” He asked.

“Home. Mingyu broke up with me, so I’m going home,” you admitted, and Soonyoung frowned.

“Did my comments do this?” Soonyoung asked, and you shook your head.

“No, we were bound to end. I should go,” you said sadly. Soonyoung sighed.

“I’m sorry it turned out this way,” Soonyoung apologised.

“Goodbye,” you said to Soonyoung.

That night when you got home, you couldn’t cry. You just felt numb. You felt nothing. You felt dead inside.

For the next week, you called off work, thankfully your clients had gone on a holiday and wouldn’t be back for two weeks. You took a week off. It wasn’t a lot, but it would be enough for you to start over.

You did every cliché there was. You went for a facial, went for a spa day. You drank and watched crappy movies with ice cream. Drank until you fell asleep. Every night you went to bed alone and hoped for a text from him.

You just needed to know that he was okay. You knew he felt every emotion deeply, and you didn’t want your stupidity to hurt him anymore.

One night after downing half a bottle of wine, you found it in you to dial his number. You sighed in relief when you realised he hadn’t blocked you.

“Y/N, it’s three in the morning?” Mingyu groaned, and that’s when you broke all the tears that never fell.

They all fell the minute you heard his voice.

“Y/N?” Mingyu said, more awake and concerned about your heavy breathing.

“Are you okay?” You mumbled, your voice breaking with every word.

“Y/N, fuck. Are you at home? Are you okay?” You sighed.

“Yeah. I just, I’m sorry, Mingyu.” Mingyu sighed before hanging up.

“Jesus, fuck,” you yelped when you saw Mingyu sitting in your kitchen the following day. You looked around the house.

“You cleaned up?” You asked, and Mingyu nodded.

“Most people change the locks when their ex moves out,” Mingyu joked, and you frowned.

“The house is under your name,” you said, giving a lame excuse, and Mingyu sighed.

“Am I okay? You called me yesterday to ask me that?” Mingyu asked, and you groaned. “Do you even care? You walked away,” Mingyu continued, raising his voice at you, and you just stared at him.

“You broke up with me,” you said, confused, and Mingyu nodded.

“I fought for us when you cheated, and you didn’t even fucking try,” Mingyu cried out.

“Gyu,” you started to say. Mingyu glared at you.

“Don’t Gyu me, I’m not yours,” Mingyu snapped, and you nodded.

“I saw the way you tried so hard to love me again. It broke you, and I want you to be happy, so I didn’t fight because you deserve better,��� you yelled back, and Mingyu scoffed.

“You remember how I told you I’d be working on a song with Yuri?” Mingyu asked, and you nodded slowly, unsure why he randomly brought it up.

“We were in the studio, I think this was two nights after we broke up, and I think right before we wrapped up our session, she kissed me,” Mingyu explained.

“Oh.”

“I kissed her back,” Mingyu clarified.

“Okay.”

“But I couldn’t do it. Her lips, the kiss it all felt foreign to me. It wasn’t what I’m used to, and more importantly. It’s not what I want,” Mingyu added.

“She kissed you?” You repeated, feeling tears threaten to spill over.

“While you’re entitled to your feelings. I really hope you realise that getting mad at me for this will be beyond hypocritical,” Mingyu stated.

“I’m not. Just wow, she fits into your world. Better than I ever could,” you said weakly, and Mingyu scoffed as he stood up, moving closer to you,

“No. You can feel shitty for cheating on me, but I will not ever let you think you don’t belong in this world,” Mingyu said, and you pouted.

“I hurt you,” you choked out, your voice breaking.

“Yeah, and it fucking sucked. It still does, but one week. One week was enough to make me realise I don’t want to be without you. So we’re going to get through this,” Mingyu declared, determined, and you started to sob, and Mingyu took you into his arms, holding you tight.

“We’re going to hit reset. We will go on a first date again, and I will learn to trust you again. Clean slate,” Mingyu said, holding you close.

You nodded. Chances like these rarely come by, so you weren’t going to waste them.

“Oh and also, no more apologising. I’m not trying to rewrite history, but if you keep apologising, I won’t ever get past it. So let’s just start over, okay?” Mingyu explained, and you nodded tearfully.

“Reset?” You asked.

“Reset.”

“We’ll do this the right way,” Mingyu said, and you shook your head.

“No. I will. I’ll love you the way I should have,” you said, making him grin at you as you hugged him tightly, not wanting to let go.

You’d be damned if you lost him again.

[daddy-dins-girl]

Playdate - Chapter Eight

IMPORTANT NOTE: I'm posting both chapters 7 and 8 today so just make sure you didn't actually miss 7 or this one might not make much sense, lol. Also I'd recommend having chapter 7 fresh in your mind when you read this one. This chapter serves as an 'interlude' chapter that occurs before/during/after Chapter 7 but is told from Dave and Marcus' POV's (not Reader's). One final note, a page break/divider indicates a shift of POV to another character, but hopefully that comes across easily enough in the writing anyway.

Main Masterlist Series Masterlist

AO3 link

pairing: Marcus Pike x f! Reader x Dave York

Word Count: 5.1k

Notes: Who gave me the right to put all this ANGST in my PORN story? dw, I have a couple more chapters planned out, I'll fix this mess I've created eventually :P

Chapter Warnings (BIG TIME spoilers in the warnings... I'd recommend skipping them if you don't want to be spoiled. If you're at this point in this story, you're fine with whatever I have left to throw at you lol): 18+ MDNI. M/M (Yeah that's right. Reader who? Sorry babe, I'll make it up to you next time!). Oral sex. Hand jobs. Anal play. A shower stall is our 3rd main character in this chapter. Inexperienced!Marcus. Dom!Dave. Daddy Kink. Derogatory talk. Praise kink. Little sprinkling of Soft!Dave. Porn with too many feelings that these idiot men don't know what to do with (we'll work on them, ok?). Infidelity-ish (again, these three got some shit to work out).

MASSIVE thank you for @janaispunk for beta'ing and being my sounding board.

Page dividers by the generous and talented @saradika-graphics

When restfulness fails to come for Dave he eventually decides to pull himself away from the two sleeping forms next to him in the bed and head off to the shower instead. He could use a thorough washing, and not to mention the relaxing spray and solace of the shower may just offer him a bit of a chance to clear his head, hopefully.

Letting out a heavy sigh once he reaches the bathroom near the front entryway of the suite he shrugs off the oversized fluffy hotel robe and hangs it on the back of the door before closing it shut, reaching inside the shower stall and turning the temperature up to near scalding. He hisses the moment he steps inside the large enclosure, immediately turning his back to the water and facing the door instead but within a few seconds the temperature starts to feel perfect and he rolls his shoulders and aching muscles under the steady beat of the massaging spray.

“Fuck” he groans, head tilting back to let the water wash over his face and through his hair. In hindsight he maybe should’ve had a cold shower because he’s been rocking a semi for the last… god knows… since not long after his two bedmates had fallen asleep. He resists the urge to wrap his fist around himself and take care of it solo, thinking he can will it away with sheer mental focus instead. As if he could focus on much of anything right now. His mind was scrambled, and that just wasn’t Dave. He had an innate ability to compartmentalize, always had. It’s what made him so good at his job and had gotten him through many obstacles in his life thus far. But then he met fucking Marcus Pike, which ultimately, also led him to you, and now here he was playing fucking house with what was meant to be a one or two time fun “hookup” and goddamit if he didn’t feel himself starting to fall. What’s worse is that he hadn’t just fallen for you, either. Annoyed with himself yet again for not being able to shut his brain off, Dave turns around to face the spray again and gets to the task of washing his hair instead, needing something else to focus on besides the insistent need that’s hanging between his legs.

The quiet ‘snick’ of the bathroom door latching shut catches Dave’s attention, even with his head under the hot spray of the water in the oversized walk-in shower, because of course it does. Dave is always super aware and hyper vigilant, even when in a relaxed environment. His eyes squeezed shut as he rinses the shampoo from his hair and back turned to the door he calls out, “it’ll be all yours in a minute, almost done here”

So when he hears the sound of the glass door sliding open and the cool air hitting his back, despite his offer to give up the shower momentarily, he chuckles. A low, raspy laugh from deep in his throat as he pushes his hair back on his head and finally turns around, his eyebrow raising in amusement as his gaze settles on his unexpected visitor standing just outside the shower door.

“Well, what have we here?”

Marcus doesn’t say a word. Too nervous he’ll psyche himself out if he attempts to speak. Instead he unwraps the towel from around his waist, leaving him fully naked and exposed, and tosses it to the ground behind him before stepping inside the enclosure and sliding the glass door shut behind him.

Dave waits, stock still, because he hadn’t been expecting this. Not that he should be too surprised, he supposed. It was probably bound to happen and truth be told he was far from mad about it. Over time he’d grown to care for Marcus a lot, and more than what he knew was realistic for a ‘friendship’. And with the fondness for Marcus growing so did the sexual tension, he supposed. It wasn’t immediate, as he had felt with you, but as he spent more and more time with both of you Marcus had unknowingly carved out a spot for himself under Dave’s skin, just as you had on that very first night he’d met you. It started out slowly, he would feel his own arousal spike watching Marcus get pleasure but he had chalked that up to being natural, not unlike getting off to watching porn. But then it started to change, and Dave began to wonder what it might be like for him to give Marcus that pleasure and earlier this evening he gave in and did exactly that. Holding his hands around Marcus as the younger man submitted to him and came with Dave’s mouth at his ear nearly had Dave spilling inside of you the moment Marcus let go. He loved hearing the sweet cries from Marcus’ perfect pouty lips as Dave held him tight to his naked chest. And the way you looked up at both of them, pure lust and adoration in your gaze he felt his chest constrict around his heart like it might just explode.

In that moment he wanted to just gather you both in his arms and tell you, beg you, to keep him.

And now, here Marcus stood just inches away from him, naked and vulnerable.

Dave was well and truly fucked.

Swallowing the thick lump in his throat from his nerves, Marcus carefully, slowly and wordlessly sinks to his knees in front of Dave and pauses. Peering up at him with those honeyed brown eyes, silently begging for whatever had come over him to be reciprocated. He’d woken up when he felt the weight under the mattress shift when Dave had gotten up and watched with more focus than what was probably considered appropriate at the back side of Dave’s naked form as he crossed the room and snagged a robe from the back of the door and threw it on. Marcus had to stifle a groan as he felt his cock instantly begin to swell at just the sight of the slightly older man before him. Once he exited the bedroom Marcus let out a sigh and dropped his head back to the pillow with a heavy thud, closing his eyes and focusing his breathing for a few seconds but still, his dick betrayed him. He rolled over to his side and watched your sleeping form, debating whether he should wake you to help him with his little situation or not but quickly dismissed the notion. He knew you must be exhausted, it wasn’t like you to be sleeping in the middle of the day so clearly you were worn out. Plus he’s pretty sure the actual reason for his current state of arousal just walked out the bedroom door anyway.

He lays in bed for as long as he can stand it, until he hears the shower come to life on the other side of the suite and his cock twitches again involuntarily, his mind conjuring up images of Dave naked and letting the hot spray of the water cascade all over his body and suddenly Marcus feels jealous over a fucking shower head of all things. Before long he finds himself getting up and out of bed, quickly tying a discarded towel around his waist before he leaves the bedroom and makes his way through the suite.

A grin spreads across Dave’s lips as the hot water continues to beat down his back and he reaches a hand forward, gripping the younger man’s jaw in his hand and angling him further upward as his thumb gently caresses back and forth at his cheek as he rasps out, “Well what are you waiting for, Champ? This cock isn’t going to suck itself”

After taking in a quick deep breath to steel his nerves, Marcus, ever obedient, presses forward. His eyes close as he takes Dave’s semi-hard length into his mouth, his lips wrapping around him as he finds his footing, as it were, never having actually done this before.

“Eyes on me Slugger” Dave tuts, hand going underneath Marcus’ chin and forcing his gaze upwards with the flick of a single knuckle. Marcus’ gaze is weak as he tries desperately to hold Dave’s but when he feels Dave begin to grow and swell against his tongue he gets a newfound confidence and can’t help the low moan that leaves his throat as he envelops him further into his mouth and finally begins to move his tongue and lips around him, licking and sucking and tasting every inch offered to him. He may not know exactly what he’s doing, but he does know what feels good to him and tries his best to mimic those same behaviors.

He pulls off for just a moment, collecting saliva in the back of his throat and messily spitting onto Dave’s length before he wraps his mouth around it again and begins to bob his head back and forth, letting his tongue drag along the underside as he swallows him down the best he can, easing off only slightly when the thick head of him nears too far to the back of his throat and causes him to momentarily gag before he resituates himself to a comfortable feel and can enthusiastically continue.

“Fuck, that’s it. Good boy,” Dave sighs, hand pushing through Marcus’ golden brown locks and a little whimper escapes Marcus at the subtle praise, eyelids fluttering shut for only a moment before he remembers Dave’s words from earlier and opens them again to hold Dave’s gaze. “You suck cock almost as good as your wife, you know that pretty boy?” Dave teases and despite himself, it only turns Marcus further on. He takes one hand and wraps it around the base of Dave’s cock to pump as much as his shaft that won’t fit in his mouth while the other hand goes to his own aching need as he begins stroking himself to the same pace that his head bobs.

“Fuck” Dave curses again, a little breathless this time as his head tilts back into the spray of water. He wraps his hand around the back of Marcus’ head and helps him by setting the pace that he wants, fast and rough and nearly hitting the back of Marcus’ throat each time his hips jut forward. Marcus does his best to take him but before long he’s coughing, sputtering, gagging and gasping for breath as he pulls off of him after just a few short seconds of Dave fucking his throat, a long strand of saliva still connecting him to the now rock hard cock in his face and Dave lets out a little chuckle at Marcus’ obvious inexperience.

“Well, maybe you could learn a thing or two” Dave laughs. “Up,” he commands suddenly, hand gripping under Marcus’ bicep and hauling him quickly to his feet. Marcus goes willingly, all too eager to comply as Dave turns him to face the wall, grabs both of his hands and forces them above his head and flat against the warm tiles. Dave quickly crowds his space, stepping up behind him, the hot, hard length of him pressed right up against Marcus’ lower back.

His breathing laboured, Marcus tenses momentarily but then relaxes as he feels a large wet hand slide down his side, across the smooth skin of his hip and lower still until it ghosts over the globes of his ass and then back up to hold firmly at his hip again as Dave leans forward, breath hot against Marcus’ ear.

“Colour?” He asks and Marcus takes a steadying breath.

“Green. Uh… green. I - I think” he stammers out nervously. Dave hums before his hand snakes forward to grasp around Marcus’ hard, leaking cock and gives it a light squeeze that has Marcus whimpering.

“I’d say you’re doing just fine” Dave taunts before he languidly strokes Marcus a few times, causing his knees to nearly buckle as a desperate whine escapes his lips.

“I’m uh.. I’ve never.. with…” Marcus trails off, his eyes squeezing shut when Dave gently ruts into his back, his hand still slowly stroking him. “H-Have you?”

“When you’re young and in your prime and stuck in the service for twelve plus months at a time, a warm mouth is a warm mouth” Dave shrugs nonchalantly. “But it’s not something I indulged in often, or ever pursued outside of that environment” he adds, still slowly working Marcus over with shallow pumps of his fist. “Truth be told I’ve never looked at or even thought twice about another man. That is, until you”. He finishes the last part quietly, like it's a secret he can’t voice out loud.

“S-same here” Marcus stutters, eyes squeezed shut as he focuses on his breathing, hoping to stave off his orgasm for at least a little while longer. “Did you ever, ah fuck” Marcus groans, trailing off as his train of thought leaves him when Daves hand comes up to pay special attention to the head of his cock, his hand twisting just right over and over again at the sensitive tip.

“Did I ever what? Hmmm?” Dave taunts, hand stilling around Marcus as he lowers his hips slightly and presses further against him, his stiff length now pressing into the meat of Marcus’ asscheek. “Did I ever fuck a man’s tight little asshole?” He asks into the shell of Marcus’ ear and Marcus shudders before biting back a moan and nodding his head.

“No” Dave answers honestly. “Why, did you want to be the first?” He chuckles, rutting into him and Marcus lets out a stuttering gasp before shaking his head against the tiles.

“I don’t think… I’m not… No. I… I don’t know” Marcus answers helplessly, his shoulders tensing.

“Relax baby, relax” Dave soothes, pulling his hips back slightly but resting his forehead on Marcus’ shoulder. “You don’t have to be ready for that right now. And to be honest, if my cock is going to be in your ass then I want yours inside your wife so I can fuck you both at the same time” he chuckles darkly into the heated skin of Marcus’ back and a shiver passes through Marcus’ whole body at just the thought of that.

“Oh you like that don’t you” Dave laughs again. Feeling Marcus twitch in his hand gets Dave’s dominant confidence swelling in his chest again and he easily slips into the role he prefers to play, where he feels the most comfortable and less vulnerable.

“Wanna be the meat in our little fuck sandwich, sweet boy?” Dave taunts, his hand going back to slowly stroking Marcus again. “You gonna fuck your tight little ass against my fat cock while you’re buried inside of her?”

“Jesus, fuck” Marcus groans. He’d never once judged his wife for what she was into, but now he understood it first hand. The way Dave could have you falling apart just by the words that leave his mouth.

“Maybe a little friendly competition, see who can cum inside of who first” he laughs darkly and Marcus’ whole body shudders as a wrecked moan escapes him.

Dave hands picks up the pace a little as Marcus squeezes his eyes shut, face resting against his own forearm and teeth clenched as Dave draws him closer and closer to that edge he’s been teetering on since he sunk to his knees in front of the man in question just minutes ago.

He didn’t know what came over him, what possessed him to get out of bed and follow after Dave, but he couldn’t get what happened earlier out of his head. The way Dave had wrapped his hand around his throat, called him his good boy, and made him cum so hard his vision nearly blacked out. He needed more. Dave was like a drug, he understood it now. An addiction, a craving that could never be satisfied, always leaving you wanting more.

His breath catches in his throat when he feels Dave’s free hand that’s not currently wrapped around him back at his ass, a single finger sliding through the cleft of his wet cheeks until it stops to tease at his hole. The pad of his finger presses at the puckered flesh but doesn’t breach inside, just wanting to rile Marcus up and it is absolutely working as the younger man whimpers and squirms under Dave’s hands. Dave shifts slightly so that the water beats down more so on Marcus, ensuring he’s not dry as Dave continues to tease him.

“Colour” Dave demands again, finger pressing in again with just a fraction more pressure than the previous time.

“Green, fuck. Please” Marcus is trembling, his body leaning against the wall the only thing holding him upright and he feels the smirk reach across Dave’s face from where his mouth is still pressed to his ear.

“That’s my good boy” Dave chuckles. The sound of Dave spitting a giant glob of saliva between Marcus’ cheeks is downright sinful as it echoes off the four walls of the shower enclosure and Marcus has to bite into the meat of his own arm to keep from moaning too loudly when Dave finally pushes a single saliva slicked finger just inside as he continues to stroke Marcus’ length with delicate precision.

“Oh my god, oh fuck! I’m - ” Marcus cries out at the welcomed intrusion of Dave’s finger, barely inside but slowly moving back and forth creating just enough of a foreign pressure that it’s enough to push Marcus over that edge within seconds. He orgasms with a wrangled cry leaving his lips, spurts of his warm spend splattering onto the tiles in front of him and down Dave’s hand that still loosely grips him as he continues to pump him dry.

“That’s it” Dave’s voice soothes against his ear, still gently working him over with both hands as Marcus comes down from his high. “So good for your Daddy, hmmm?”

“Mmmhmmm, fuck” Marcus groans out once more, leaning heavily into the tiles now, shoulders and chest heaving with each laboured breath he takes. He lets out another whimper as Dave gently slips his finger out, sighs happily when he feels Dave’s lips press into his shoulder blade.

“Okay?” Dave breathes against Marcus' warm flesh, checking in with him and the younger man can do little but eagerly nod his head, still trembling in the aftershocks of his orgasm. Dave’s hand still wrapped around Marcus’ length finally slows to a stop and he releases him fully, both arms coming up to wrap around Marcus’ middle and hold him tight against his chest for a long moment and Marcus sighs happily, sated, leaning into the warmth Dave offers. He does his best to ignore the little flutter he feels in his chest as Dave's lips continue to pepper little kisses across the back of his neck and shoulders, wills his own heart to stop hammering in his chest when Dave breathes in deep and then rests his check against Marcus' back, apparently content to just hold him until his own breathing evens out.

“What um… what about you?” Marcus asks meekly. He hadn’t exactly gotten to finish what he’d started earlier once the attention shifted to him and his own pleasure. He can still feel Dave pressed into his back, though with the delay for his own gratification Dave has softened somewhat again, his needs seemingly less urgent now.

“Let me finish getting cleaned up in here and then why don’t we meet back in bed, hmm?” He finishes his thought with a sharp little smack to Marcus’ ass and chuckles before he bites down gently onto his shoulder. “See if you can wake up that wife of yours while you’re at it”

“Yeah, o-okay” Marcus stammers, stealing himself for a moment before he heaves a deep sigh, lets his shoulders relax and finally reaches for the shower door and slides it open. Dave lets him go, watches with piqued interest as Marcus bends over to pick up his earlier discarded towel and secure it back around his waist again, and then, he’s gone. Door closing shut behind him again and leaving Dave to finish his shower in privacy.

Dave is doing his best to act nonchalant, normal, though nothing about what just took place was normal for either of them. He’d never held another man in an embrace like that before and found himself not even wanting to let go. It took everything in him not to spin Marcus around and hold him even closer. And it wasn’t just sexual, this feeling he suddenly had. Though that part was definitely good too, but now he felt himself feeling suddenly nervous about going back out there, like he was completely transparent and the two of you would see through him immediately. He dreads the day, and he has a feeling it’s coming soon, that the two of you extract yourselves from his life. He knows the texts and visits will become fewer and farther between until suddenly he stops hearing from you all together and he’ll go back to his life before the two of you were in it, wishing he’d never gone along with it in the first place because then he wouldn’t be in the fucking predicament he found himself in now.

He should put a stop to this himself before that happens, he thinks. Like a bandaid, just rip it off and the pain will dissipate before he even notices it’s there, right? He can fake a work emergency, or say somethings come up with his children and he needs to cut this weekend short. You’ll both understand, of course you will. Maybe even be secretly relieved that you can spend the rest of your time here together with just the two of you.

He’s doing everyone a favour, he thinks.

Mind made up, he takes a little extra time than necessary in the shower, turning the temperature way down to hopefully rid him of what’s left of his hard-on and finishes cleaning himself off, being sure to scrub every inch of his body to wash away any lingering traces of this weekend from his skin, hopefully soon enough from his memory. He takes the removable shower hose off the fixture as well and sprays down the tiles where Marcus’ cum still lingers, watching it wash down the drain past his feet and then hangs the shower head back up and finally turns the taps off and steps out.

Speech fully prepared in his head, what he didn’t expect was to walk back into the bedroom to see you with a very worried expression on your face and for a moment, he feels his heart literally fall into his stomach. Did Marcus just confess what happened and you’re so enraged you’re about to throw him out on his ass? Throw your husband out too? Likely not the latter, he thinks. If anything it’s probably further cementing the fact that the two of you need Dave out of your lives, he’s only going to cause problems in what is a beautiful, perfect marriage.

“You have to go?!” He hears you say and oh. So Marcus is leaving? He asks what’s going on and then just hangs back after Marcus responds to him but then focuses his attention back to you, Dave idly listening to the conversation in the background as your husband continues to apologize to you about an apparent “work emergency” that’s come up.

Dave was already set in his decision to leave, but with Marcus going he knows he really, really needs to leave. Being alone with you might just kill him, and he doesn’t deserve a death that blissful, he reasons with himself.

Not long after saying an endearing goodbye to you, Marcus brushes past Dave with a vague ‘see ya later’ and just like that, he’s gone and Dave is left alone with the person currently possessing the other half of his traitorous heart. The heart that wasn’t supposed to fall for either of these two people who already belonged to each other, let alone apparently falling for both of them.

Marcus is in the cab, half way back to his own house where he most certainly does not have any type of work emergency waiting for him, when he starts an inner battle with himself about just what in the fuck he is doing. Should he have left? Should he turn around right now and go back and stop being a fucking coward? What the hell was he supposed to do?

He felt so fucking guilty the moment his orgasm ripped through him like a freight train with Dave’s hands on him and you nowhere in sight that he just couldn’t get out of that hotel room fast enough. He had cheated on you, in his mind. What’s worse is that it wasn’t even all sexual, though that is how it started and how he pursued it but his feelings for Dave were beginning to get overwhelming and he thought maybe if he just ‘got it out of his system’ he could forget about it and move on, but then Dave had to go and fucking hold him afterwards and asked him back to bed and his throat just plummeted into his stomach. How could he just walk out of that bathroom and pretend that never happened? Is that what Dave wanted? Or did Dave want you to know exactly what happened? How would you react? Marcus didn’t even have his own feelings about the whole thing sorted out, he couldn’t expect you to understand. He crossed a line, that much he knew.

Ultimately he decided to let the cab driver continue to their destination. He was already well on his way home anyway, might as well keep going. He’d fix himself some dinner, maybe a drink and just have some time alone to sort out his thoughts before he joins you back at the hotel. He briefly wonders if Dave will still be there when he gets back. If he is, maybe it would be a good time for the three of you to have a conversation, one that’s surely long overdue. Marcus hopes he doesn’t have to speak first. What if he voices what he thinks he’s truly feeling and you all look at him like he’s grown a second head?

He’s equally worried at both ends. He’s worried that Dave, despite the tender moments he is occasionally capable of showing, might laugh the whole thing off. He signed up to be a fun ‘playmate’ for a couple of weekends here and there, not a more permanent fixture in an already existing and functioning marriage. And you… what would you even think? Sure Marcus knows you’ve warmed to Dave over the months during your encounters but you’d never discussed with Marcus that you’d felt anything for the man in question outside of sexual desire. Not to mention what would you think of him if he asked you to have another man be an active participant in your relationship? The last thing he wants is you feeling like you’re not enough for him or that something is missing from your marriage.

It would kill him if this drove any kind of rift between the two of you. No, he needs to shut up and keep whatever is in his head and his heart to himself and hope things sort themselves out. He’ll start to distance himself (and hopefully you both) from Dave and you can go back to your lives. He cares about Dave, far more than what he knows is appropriate, but he can’t lose you. He won’t.

Marcus finishes his dinner, accompanied by a rich glass of wine, and waits a while, letting his food settle and his mind attempt to find peace within the waging war that are his thoughts still battling on inside his head. A few hours since he’d left the hotel pass before he finally heads back outside to his car and types the address of the hotel into his GPS.

Dave York is a bad man. He knows it the moment he reaches the penthouse floor again, not even thirty minutes since he left it, and lifts his fist to knock at the hotel room door. He'd had every intention of getting into his car and leaving this place. Just one drink first, he'd reasoned with himself, then he'd leave.

He knew shouldn’t be here at your door now. Not without Marcus. Though, he supposes he shouldn’t have been in the shower with Marcus without you, either. Marcus knows it, clearly. It’s the only explanation for why he high-tailed it out of there with some half-assed lie of an excuse of having a work emergency on a Saturday night. Dave saw right through it of course but didn’t voice his concern, he certainly wouldn’t do that in front of you. He wouldn’t wedge himself further into the complications of your marriage than he already was.

He’s really fucked this up. But he knows, even before you pull open that door, that tonight is his last chance. The last time he’ll allow himself to see you before he forces himself to go back to his old life so you can have yours back with your husband. And if he was a better man, he would’ve just left earlier when he said he was going to and not come to see you one last time, knowing full well what he was doing and feeling and how it might affect you. How it might affect Marcus, and moreover how it might affect your relationship with Marcus.

But Dave York was not a better man. Not a good man.

Dave York was a bad, bad man.

"Hi" you breathe out the moment the door swings open and lands on him leaning against the frame on the other side.

"Hi"

Marcus lets himself into the hotel suite, quietly and carefully making his way through the rooms that are bathed in darkness, only slivers of moonlight peaking through where the curtains aren’t fully shut. Pushing open the double doors to the bedroom he frowns but is otherwise not surprised to find you sleeping alone in the bed that now seems comically oversized for just your body alone, especially given how crowded it was only hours earlier.

He glances around the room, pulling out his phone and turning on the flashlight, making sure not to shine it on you so as to not wake you up. He tilts it around the room, looking everywhere but there's no sign of Dave. His belongings seem to be gone, his duffel bag no longer occupying the corner of the bedroom where it was before. Marcus had walked through the living room to get to the bedroom so he knows he wasn’t asleep on the couch either.

Dave was gone.

Clicking off the flashlight and before he can talk himself out of doing so, Marcus taps on the Messages icon on his screen, wanting to send a quick text to your group chat, just to ensure wherever Dave was, everything was OK.

Once again Marcus gets that all too familiar feeling of his throat falling into the pit of his stomach when he reads the tiny grayed out letters that greet him at the bottom of your conversation.

Dave York has left the group.

Dun Dun Dunnnnnn! I am so sorry, but believe it or not this was my plan for this series all along from the moment you guys lovingly bullied me into turning my one-shot into a series, lol. Fear not though, we haven't seen the last of our dear Dave. He's just a bit of an idiot, and is going to continue to be one for a little while, but have faith in me.

Next Chapter

I really appreciate you taking the time to read this chapter! If you liked it please leave me a little note or a reblog, it means the world to me!

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[sofasoap]

Love at first sight - 2

Pairing: Rodolfo “Rudy” Parra x F!reader ( aka Mini MacTavish)

Summary: Alejandro the wingman. Part I, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5,Part 6,Epilogue

Warning: M rating. not beta'ed and proof read ( it's nearly 2am. ) I apologise I don't know any Spanish or Mexican culture. I had to google and make up some fictional festival for purpose of this chapter. Thanks to @kaplerrr for giving me guidance to some exclaims in Spanish :)

Rudy’s turn to get some Mini love!!! :) like Gaz, he is sooooo underrated.

My usual thanking @saltofmercury, mother of Mini, for lending me the character :) Please go and check out her fics!

“masterlist” for Mini MacTavish expanded verse

Alejandro doesn’t pray often. When he prays, he prays for his family’s safety and well being. Or for the success of the mission.

Or his hermanos survival when they are in the deep of things. 

Or when his thick as a rock brother Rudy, who is mindlessly scooping food into his mouth, while staring at you across the mess hall, like a love sick puppy, to have the courage to finally go up to you, to initiate a conversation, no, actually,  just to say hi will be a miracle and a wish come true.

“Rudy.”

“Hum?”

“Close your mouth. Rice is dropping out from the corner of your mouth.”

Quickly wiping his mouth, with embarrassment, he turned his attention back to his plate of food.

“... who ate all my food?”

Alejandro sighed, rubbing his forehead, “You did. Now, have you even tried to talk to Mini yet?” 

“No, Why?”

“Because you are staring at her again. Obviously you are interested in her.” 

Rudy looked down at his food, poking the leftover capsicum around the plate, not replying, deep in thought again.

Dios mío, Do I have to do everything for him??? Making up his mind, “MINI!” Alejandro yelled across the hall. “Come and sit with us! Rudy wants to ask you something.”

Rudy snapped his head and looked at Alejandro with shock in his eyes.

You looked up from amongst the new group of friends you made after the joint missions with Los Vaqueros and smiled, turning back for a few seconds to excuse yourself, you pick your plate and drink up to move towards the table Alejandro and Rudy is currently occupying.

“Good evening Colonel,” Turning towards Rudy, with a softer smile on your face, “Sergeant Major.”

“Please, we are all off duty, don’t need to be so formal.” Alejandro waved and pointed to the spare space on the bench beside Rudy, “Come, take a seat.”

Rudy shuffled slightly to the side , giving you more room to sit down. Still too shy to look you in the eye. 

“You are not as strict as Johnny then. He kept insisting that I call him Sergeant even when we were at home.” Rolling your eyes you let out a puff, complaining about your annoying brother. 

“Siblings.” Alejandro laughed. Taking a sip of water before changing the subjects, “I hope you are not having too much trouble blending into the team. If you need anything, please let me or Rudy know.”

Shaking your head, “Everybody has been very friendly and helpful. Especially when my Spanish is very limited to saying Hello and goodbye and how are you. Oh. of course swear words.”  you laughed.  “It is an eye opener and great experience to exchange knowledge in how you do things differently here. I am honoured to be part of it.” Turning your head towards Rudy, “Sergeant Major, you've been very quiet the whole time, what was it you wanted to ask me?” you scooped a bit of rice into your mouth as you remember why Alejandro called you over.

Rudy opened his mouth, and closed, and opened again. He looked at Alejandro with pleading eyes.

Sorry hermano, I have created a chance for you. you are on your own now. Alejandro replied with his glare. 

You tilt your head, with a smile on your face, waiting for him to reply.

“... You like the food here?” was all Rudy could squeeze out.

Ay Dios mío ayudame, Alejandro wanted to cry, he quickly interjected while giving Rudy a kick under the table, “What he was meaning to ask was, this is your first in Mexico, No? Your new friend told you about the festival coming up in Las Almas?” Nodding your head and eyes goes brighter with the mention of the festival, “Been to the States a few times for missions with Laswell, but crossing the border down here is the first time. So what is this festival about?” 

Alejandro smiled, “Well, apart from a lot of food, it’s a celebration of harvest, or just an excuse for everyone to get together and drink and dance. I think my brother here,” Hitting Ruby on the shoulder, made him spill the drink, “ can be your guide and escort to the fiesta, if you are interested.” 

You bit your lip, hesitating.  Rudy was getting fidgety, nervously waiting for your reply. 

“If it isn’t too much trouble, I would love to go.” Looking down at your uniform. “ I got no suitable attire to attend the festival though..” “Don’t worry. Leave that to us.” Alejandro reassures you.

Rudy’s jaw dropped when he saw you coming out from his sister’s room, dressed in a white beautiful bare shoulder peasant blouse and colourful embroideries of little flowers on the frills, and bright blue Folklorico skirts with colourful ribbons around the helm, a red and white flower headpiece was pinned on the left side of your hair. Well, at least he is sure you ARE SINGLE. 

Lifting the skirt while you twirl around to show off the skirt, “How do I look?” you ask shyly. “estás bella”. Rudy mumbled, couldn’t take his eyes off you. You look absolutely stunning in the dress. 

 “Hmm?? Sorry?” “My idiot brother said you are beautiful.” Rudy’s sister Camila chuckled as she followed behind you.  You gasp at her comment, and looked at Rudy, who has turned into a bright red like a capsicum. “Well, hurry up and go, you two don’t want to miss the start of the festival.” Shaking her head as she pushes two out of the door, after thanking her for gifting you the dress.

Alejandro asked you for your phone number after the conversation at the mess hall that night. “I remember Rudy’s sister had a few spare dresses, why don’t you pass Mini’s number onto Camila, so she can find something for her to wear? And it will be easier for Rudy to contact you as well to organise something.”

You passed your phone to Rudy, which he quickly typed in his number, and you rang his phone so he will have yours as well. “ There you go. Thank your sister in advance for me please!”

When you walked into the Parra household on the day of the festival, you saw an elderly lady who you assume to be Rudy’s mother who immediately burst into tears and started mumbling away and making praying signs. “Don’t mind my mother. She is overcome with joy. Hola! I am Camila, Rudy’s sister. We spoke over the phone”

“Hello, nice to finally meet you.. Overcome with joy?” You asked. Slightly worried why you walking into the house has caused such a commotion, even the neighbours were gasping as you walked into the front yard. 

“She is thanking every deity out there for her to see this day while she is alive.”

“ Um? I don’t quite understand.”

“Rudy finally brought someone home!” “I .. I am just his work colleague. Alejandro said Rudy can be my escort to the festival..” you tried to explain awkwardly. But no one was listening to you. Camila eagerly pushed you towards one of the bedrooms, “Come on, my brother is getting changed. I got a few dresses from my younger days that I think will suit you very well.” 

What you didn’t expect was Camila going overly excited and gave the beautiful dress to you instead of just lending it to you for the night. 

“No, how can I possibly accept this? This is such a beautiful piece of work, I can’t take it!” “Hush, this is a time of festival and celebration. Celebrating my brother finally bringing someone home!!” “Um, I am not….”

Two of you walked out into the street in silence, after bidding farewell to the Parra family ( and a still sobbing Mama Parra ), it’s early afternoon, sun still shining quite bright, with slight breeze, it’s quite a pleasant day for a walk. You look into the distance into the mountains, and try to strike up a conversation to break the silence;

“Alejandro said he often skipped school and ran around the mountain trails when he was younger?” you pointed towards the hills and asked. 

Smiling at the memory, he chuckled. “He was the total opposite to me. Can’t sit still, skipping so much school his mother often drags him to school personally making sure he is actually AT the school, but still doesn’t stop him from snuck out after she left.” 

“Well that experience certainly helped with all the operations. Fighting off the Cartels.”

“Fortunately, or unfortunately yes,” he sighed. “All of us love our town. And we will fight to protect it, clearing them out of the mountains, every single one of them.”

You turned to look at him while he talked. You are glad he is finally opening up from his shell a little bit more.  When you first met, you weren’t quite sure if he was not keen to interact with you, by the way he introduced himself, with Alejandro doing most of the talking half of the time. As you spend more time with the Sergeant Major, you notice it is just his personality. Always quietly following the Colonel, observing everything. Taking everything in. Anticipating what Alejandro needs and assisting him with planning. Making sure everything runs smoothly. A very calming person. You admire people like that. Total opposite to your headstrong and fiery personality.

Two of you share childhood stories while walking towards the festival, you telling him stories of Soap and all the daredevil stunts he used to do when he was younger while you are always the one patching him up, “ I guess that’s why I became a doctor. “ You laughed. And Rudy tells you stories of the mischiefs him and Alejandro use to get up to, to the dismay of both their mothers. 

Soon you arrived at the town centre, which was already alive and buzzing with activities. Food stalls, music and bands playing, people dancing in the middle of the square. You look around at the colourful decorations, in awe.

“Come Rudy!! What is that over there??” In your excitement,  you loop your arm around his, pulling him towards a food stall. You subtly notice him stiffening up as you come in contact with him. The food stall owner was quite shocked and mumbled a few exclamations underneath his breath, you think something along the lines of if their eyes are seeing things correctly, a girl with Rudy etc. And this continues on for the whole night, and you clearly can see everyone’s shock and surprises as the two of you go around all the stalls and sights, enjoying the festival.

Both of you came to the middle of town square, where a band was playing and people were dancing away. A few ladies pulled you into the crowd, with a mixture of Spanish and English, trying to show you the local traditional dances. You giggled and laughed as you twirls and attempted to move your feet to keep up with the fast pace music. You turn and glance at Rudy, who is patiently waiting on the side with the drinks, smiling softly at you as he watches on. Oh he has a very cute smile. You noticed. 

The moon was well above the head by the time both of you walked back to his house. Soap was going to pick you up from there. “Always your taxi driver.” he grumbled. You slap your brother on the arm, “hey, how many times did I have to be the sober driver and endure your drunkenness.”

“Thank you Rudy, I had a great night. It was so lovely to see the local festival and everyone finally happy and enjoying themselves without the fear of the cartel.” Looking down as you fiddle with your hand. 

Rudy took a deep breath, summoning his courage, he took your hand into his, giving a soft squeeze. You look up at him, that little soft smile again on his face. “My pleasure.” Two of you stood there, just looking at each other without words. You could see the headlight of a jeep coming towards the front gate, you knew Soap was arriving soon. Taking a step closer, you tip-toed up and gave him a chaste kiss on his cheek before letting his hand go.

Rudy stood there, in shock, watching you getting into the car, Soap gave him a wave through the window. 

“Had a good time?” Your brother asked as he drove back towards the base. 

“Mm-hmm. It was good, there were so many things to see.” you stare out the window, humming away the tunes you heard throughout the night. 

“So what is happening?” 

“What do you mean what is happening?” You turned your head slightly, confused.

“You and Rudy. Officially dating?” “Uh, Um. This isn't a date? He was just being nice and showing me around his home town…” or is it? Maybe it is. And you did give him a kiss at the end, even if it was on the cheek. Holding your hand up to your cheek, you can feel it starting to burn. Oh gosh, you are not a sixteen year old just went on her first date! “You do know this will be hard work, and might not work in the end right?” Soap warned. 

Lip pressed tight together, you don’t want to admit it, but that did cross your mind. Maybe that is why you keep suppressing that feeling the first time you see him. That little tingly feeling in your heart. You eventually will have to head back to Europe. You will be thousands of miles away from him. The long distance relationship never works. You see it failing too many times between the soldiers and amongst your friends. Every time you hear about it, you always warn yourself never to fall into that trap. 

Maybe you made a mistake tonight. Maybe you are falling in. A trap called love. 

tag list

@kaplerrr

@captainpriceslover @floral-force @homicidal-slvt @iwannabeinthesequalmrghostface @deadbranch

[ritualofcirice]

Everything Better Than a Hot Water Bottle (Grand Highblood x Reader)

🐑 ♡ Sycamore, darling, sweetie, thank you for beta'ing ♡ 🐑

The Grand Highblood doesn't have your messed up alien biology, so how is supposed to know how to make you feel better?

Teen and Up Audiences, No Warnings, F/M, Other/M, Tag(s): Ficlet, Ambiguous Gender Reader, Fluff, Alien Biology, Your Alien Biology Correctly, Menstruation, Flushed Romance | Matesprits, Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Language, POV Second Person

Find it on ao3 ♡ WC: 986

Voices echoed in the chamber of his head, one he had retreated to in the hopes it would keep some semblance of… Something.

The Grand Highblood himself didn’t even know what that something was supposed to be. He couldn't drink that wicked elixir without you crying because you wanted whichever specific one he had. He couldn’t get you to laugh at the best of times, let alone the worst when you slumped into a pile and refused to move. When you didn’t sleep, you stared off into the distance. Whatever forsaken, blasphemous entity had carved its bloody way into your thinkpan, made him want to rip it off.

You swore, you snapped, you fought back, then cried and rejected him when he'd tried to return what wasn't actually caliginous flirting.

He'd thought the vacillation had come from no warranted place, maybe it had been the wicked elixir, but no. It had apologised too for how it had acted, succoured up to him and tried to play sweet afterwards. The thought had gripped him, if momentarily, that maybe if it wasn't caliginous, it was something else. Yet, your behaviour had changed in a way that made that something else seem like you didn’t want anything else. That same thought sucked the air from his chest and left him to choke on the hatred that stirred within. He knew now what troubled his most sweetest sugar, yet mere consideration of your loss left him on edge.

It was the internal bleeding that had displaced your usual likeness. Internal to external, he had gathered. He breathed a curse at you and all of your kind for being so strange. You didn't have a grub mother to mix your incestuous slurry. Instead, you carried your own young like walking eggs and bled if you didn't. The Grand Highblood had toyed with the idea of giving you a young troll to take care of if it stopped it, since he couldn't provide one through pailing. The thought of any weird lusus-like behaviour you might have displayed twisted his insides though, and he wasn’t partial to that course of action.

He just didn’t know what to do.

It gnawed on him.

The chamber doors creaked, and alerted him to the intruder. Inwards you slunk, slow, on heavy feet that dragged. You rested a hand against your ‘oomb’ or whatever you had called it. A whole pitiful display sauntered over to the pile. Then, you had the audacity to lay down in front of him. Your head rested on his legs and your body curled in on itself. Where one hand clung to him, the other had folded itself into your midriff to continue to support yourself.

"It hurts," you whined, muffled by clothing and flesh. After a second you began to shake, the Highblood aware of what that meant as he oversaw your descent into sorrow from above.

"I'm sorry," you heaved, "I can't help it, I'm really sorry. I feel so stupid that I can't stop myself." This motherfucker thought it could speak to itself like that. Nobody but him got to say anything like that if it had to be said. Before he could retort, however, you forced up more words from your weeping sides.

"I just want a hot water bottle, but we don't have any because we’re on a stupid fucking alien planet," you howled, anger behind each word a moment of frustration that soon simmered. "I'm so sorry, I've been awful to you, I shouldn't have used my voice like that. I'm just so angry and in so much pain, and my head hurts from all the stress. It's a mess." He could feel that. Each voice sang him a song of torture within his own mind. The Highblood bit back any mention of the obvious weakness you suffered from. He had seen you in worse conditions, yet you hadn't mewled as you did under the influence of the childless blood curse. It fucked with your head. It fucked with your body.

He hated it, the torment you suffered.

Drenched in emotions and thoughts that strained his thinkpan, he gave himself time to formulate some response. In that time, he shifted. He tucked a gentle hand under your head to encourage you to move, then took advantage of your newfound sitting position to scoop you up. Each action was delicate, as delicate could be in the hands of a giant, to not hurt you more.

"What in the glorious name of the mirthful messiahs is a hot water bottle?" the Grand Highblood sighed, with you curled into a tight ball against him. Warm in an embrace where you looked content, less hurt, he mused. Your eyes sparkled through the dull ache you sustained at the mention of the hot water bottle.

"Well. It's a pouch you fill with hot water. It keeps you warm if you hold it, but it can help with pain too if you hold it to where the pain is." You regulated your emotions as you recounted this, and cleaned your face of the clear tears which still fell. Hushed soon after, you muttered something about how it just helped.

Abrupt, the Grand Highblood froze, caught in the midst of rogue thoughts. They related to all things warm that might have helped. He wanted you to be back to the way you were before. Your idiotic alien biology put him through the pain of seeing you struggle, and that didn’t happen. An ablution trap would suffice. With warm water. At least, until he found something better. As a temporary measure though, it would have to do. He knew it would do something. You reassured him so, and left him confused but content after you had broken down at the mention of warm water.

He would find everything better than a hot water bottle, even if it took another hundred sweeps of his life.

[agent-starbuck]

Jamestown, North Dakota

{REPOST} My first challenge! This fic holds a special place in my heart because I used to spend my summers in ND. I had to do some research on Sioux indian folklore, so I hope it's accurate enough. Thanks to @viceversawrites for beta'ing it and creating this challenge!

Mulder comforts Scully with a surprise picnic under the stars after a particularly difficult case in North Dakota.

_____________________________

He's been at the Stutsman County Sheriff's Office since seven o'clock this morning, sifting through piles of evidence and paperwork and following up on leads that have gotten him nothing. Nowhere. 

The dizzying flicker of overhead lights, along with the smell of old coffee and cigarettes, makes his head throb. He rubs incessantly at his temples with the pads of his fingers, willing the pain to subside.

He's not surprised that it doesn't.

He closes his eyes, wincing, as pictures of young girls' mutilated bodies burn into his retinas like a phosphorescent afterimage. He'll have to remember not to sleep tonight. 

The familiar ring of his cell phone pierces through his frazzled brain, and he scrambles across the desk to grab it, spilling a cup of water on his lap in the process.

"Mul-- shit. Mulder," he answers as he dabs at the wet spot with an old napkin that had been hanging around since lunch earlier.

"Mulder, are you ready to come get me? It's nearly nine o'clock. I feel like I've been at this for days, and I don't know if I can stomach another autopsy tonight."

Guilt prickles at his conscience like a cold, jarring rain. He feels like such an ass. Here he was feeling sorry for himself because he was stuck examining those grisly photos strewn across his makeshift desk all day, when it was Scully who had to face the horrors up close and personal. 

He doesn't know how she does it, case after case. 

"Of course," he replies. "Lemme just wrap this up, and I'll be there in ten."

His egress is swift. He stops only to stuff folders into his briefcase and clean up his mess before grabbing his jacket, and pushing his way through heavy steel doors to freedom. A warm, gentle breeze greets him on the other side, seeping into his bones and calming his weary soul.

It's dusk, now. 

Bands of colorful light stubbornly cling to the remnants of sunshine as they disappear behind the horizon-- caught in limbo between earth and sky-- waiting their turn to be swallowed by the darkness. Day and night locked in an endless battle for time and space.

The sky seems so much bigger in North Dakota. More so than any other state he's been to. Its awe-inspiring presence towers over everything, claiming dominion over the land and making anything tethered to the earth seem infinitesimally small. 

That's why he likes it out here. Back home, people call him a weirdo for always staring at the heavens. Here, it's impossible not to.

Here, the heavens stare at you. 

•••••

The radio station spits and crackles half a country song through the speakers before Scully reaches to turn it off with a sigh, bathing the car in empty silence. The cabin of the car vibrates as the tires beat a path through dusty, gravel backroads to their motel outside town.

They've had to wash the car three times since arriving here.

"You wanna eat at that truck stop diner before we reach the motel? The one with the really good curly fries?" He sends the question out into the void, his stomach growling for attention.

"No. I just want a hot bath and a bed." 

He steals a glance in her direction. Her wistful gaze is fixed upon the slideshow flicker of moonlit prairieland streaming past her window. She seems upset. He thinks he knows why.

"Look, Scully… this case. I know it's hard. I know what you're going through."

"Do you, Mulder?" she quips. "Do you, really?" She's turned to look at him now, her pointed stare cutting through him like a stone-sharp arrow.

"I think so," he says hesitantly. "This is probably one of the worst cases we've been on."

"Yeah…" she scoffs then looks away, as if composing her thoughts, before continuing.

"I spent my entire day cutting open the corpses of young, innocent girls whose families may never get the privilege of knowing or understanding what happened to them," she starts, her voice straining against the overwhelming emotion bleeding through.

"I had to speak with the families-- mothers and fathers and elder tribal leaders-- to convince them I needed to conduct these autopsies to find answers. That there was no other way," her voice begins to waver, and his stomach clinches at the sound of her holding back tears. "And I tried to do it with dignity, Mulder. I did."

He represses the urge to reach over and gather her small hand in his, unsure if now is the right time, if she'd at all be receptive to it. His fingers almost make the journey across the console before her voice startles them back.

"I fought this entire day with local law enforcement and coroners who treated these victims and their families like castaways. Who didn't think they warranted the kind of comprehensive investigation needed to solve this case because they lived on an indian reservation. Because they weren't white."

"I'm so sorry, Scully," he whispers, waging an internal struggle within himself, deciding whether or not to stop the car, to pull her into his arms, before ultimately choosing against it. They're almost at the motel. And he doesn't trust himself not to let things get too far. 

"I had no idea you had to go through that today. If I'd known..."

"There wasn't anything that you could've done, Mulder," she says defeatedly. "I guess… I'm just tired. I really just want to go to bed and forget it."

He understands, he does. He wants the same. Except he can't face that empty motel room of his alone. 

They pull into the parking lot and he kills the engine. The vibrations from their rough journey still linger throughout his body, his ears buzzing in the silence, and he waits.

"You, um, wanna come in-- over? To my room?" His voice is fraught with nervous anticipation-- a teenager asking his crush to prom.

"Mulder-- I… I don't think it's a good idea. We're on a case, and we decided to stay in our respective rooms. Remember?"

He remembers. His selective memory is just having a difficult time remembering why he'd agreed to it. Especially now when all he wants to do is gather her in his arms and make her forget this day ever happened. 

He wants to forget.

Continue...

[silcoitus]

Fanwork creators self rec! When you get this, reply with your five favorite fics/art/podfics/etc. that you've made, then pass on to others. Let’s spread the self-love!

Thank you for the tag @juniper-sunny 😘😘

I could just list my long fics, but I think instead I'll pick my shorter ones so people can dive into those if they haven't. They're all Silco x reader, of course.

In no particular order:

"Bad for Business": the fic that started it all. I pendulum swing back and forth between thinking it's the cheesiest, most needlessly flowery smut ever written and thinking it's the most beautiful prose I've ever written.

"Comfort": My first three parter. Hurt/comfort fluff turned smutty turned violent lmao This fic came about simply because I thought of the phrase "I didn't know where else to go" and my brain was like "say less" and proceeded to spin this tale.

"Watchful Eye of Zaun": this one was naughty AF and I fucking loved writing for chembaron!reader. She's feisty. Like Comfort, part two came about because I thought of the first sentence and just went to town on it.

"Confessions": this one has a few firsts. First ask request fulfillment. First time having something beta'ed. First Silco POV. It also started the triptych trend of the fluff-smut-fluff sandwich. Whereas Watchful Eye of Zaun reader is sassy and confident, Confessions reader is a clumsy lovable (drunk) mess.

In a surprise twist, number 5 goes not to a fic but to a song.

"Children of Zaun": the first of many Silco inspired songs I wrote. It reignited my love for song writing, composing, piano, and singing. I am so proud of this song and the lyrics. I would love to one day professionally record all my Songbird songs. It'd also be dope to work with a producer to really step it up a notch but that requires money

No pressure, sorry for any dupe, tags: @astudyincontrasts @ice-queen-of-music @mudd-art @thesaltybuns @pluviofleur @fantadym

[letsperaltiago]

did you ever have someone kiss you in a crowded room? |jake x amy|

Some canon-compliant early relationship fluff (aka. one of my all time fave tropes) for you all :') And yes that hand-holding-article is real ahah. Prompt: "you can kiss me, you know." + "don’t mind me. just enjoying the view. " Words: 3.3k Rated: G

Leaving Shaw’s, she’d intended to stay away; the bar, the precinct, the mess, just everything, was to be left behind. Between depressing messages of hope, Yoghurt-mourning speeches, and then Jake’s… weird but also very sweet declaration of intentions on stage, it’d all been a tad too much for her. Primarily the latter. Jake. Gosh, if there was one thing she wanted more than anything it was to be with him. Easily and simply. Alas, the Vulture made it more than hard: impossible. How could she accept Jake be demoted for her? A girl he’d dated for 6 six days. Sure, there’d been almost two years of mutual, however staggered, idiotic pining which gave their new thing, relationship, whatever it was, some sort of emotional precedence, but still it seemed irrational and unnecessary that she’d have to cost him his dream job. No way. Not on her watch. 

Which is exactly why she’d fled the scene. Not because of Jake telling her (and every other mourner in the bar) that six days together had been enough for him to know that they had something special, and that he wouldn’t give up on them because all he cared about was being with her. See that actually made her blush like a school girl, a flock of butterflies set free in her belly in the best and most horrible way at the same time, because that was probably when she really realized how serious Jake was about them… about her. It scared her. How did Jake Childman Peralta go from being her annoying colleague to suddenly showing, even publicly declaring (officially to his dead boss, that is) that he cared more about her than his own dream? It scared the hell out of her but in a good kind of way. Scary with Jake somehow felt good, and if it wasn’t for their dirtbag of a boss she’d been grabbing Jake’s hand and jumped off whatever cliff she and Jake were currently standing on. 

Dead end. That’s what they were. She could see it in his eyes as he approached her with careful steps, catching her in the midst of packing her things. The hopelessness of the situation, their very own Gordian knot, sucked the courage out of his otherwise always bold and bright eyes as he confessed to being all out of plans and didn’t know what to do. It wasn’t a lot he got to say before Captain Holt had interrupted their despairing deliberation. Nevertheless, unmistakably and clear as day, it was all she needed to know and deep down already knew: Jake really cared about her and she about him… even more than she’d initially admitted to her still somewhat apprehensive self. 

After getting their asses saved, quote Holt himself, Amy saw the light and liveliness instantly come back to Jake’s eyes, the darkest dreadful brown shadows of his irises driven away by gleeful hazelly highlights. Having previously felt as if she was the Greek titan Atlas carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders, now knowing that nothing would stand in the way of them being together, the immense weight melted away in an instance. If Holt hadn’t been there and they weren’t in the middle of a buzzing precinct, she would’ve jumped into Jake’s arms and kissed him like there was no tomorrow. Relief rushed through her veins, her blood circulating in a surge that reminded her that this was what feeling alive truly felt like. It could in no world, past life or parallel universe be wrong to be with Jake if it made her feel like this. 

It was safe to say that Holt had already had his fair share of drama and drinks that day. Thus, after giving the two a nod and discrete look of delight (which by Holt-standards was equal to a blinding smile), he bid them a rest of the evening and trotted off to get a cab home to Kevin and Cheddar. 

Then there was two. Just the two of them. 

Jake turned to look at her, offering her thoughtful eyes and an amused smirk which let her know he had something in mind. She didn’t care what. Not in the sense that she didn’t care about what he was thinking; in the sense that he could tell her anything, as  lame, crazy, boring, weird or whatever it might be, and she would gladly listen. 

“Bar?”

“Definitely,” she grinned back, forgetting how she had cursed that place just 30 minutes ago. Amused and damning her blood for so shamelessly running to and ehancing her cheeks everytime he as much as looked her way. Before she could reach for her bag, he’d beat her to it and held the black leather tote by its long handles. His arm and hand came to the perfect length, she thought eyeing how the bag hung just two inches above the ground. 

“C’mon,” he uttered, playfully hitting her knee with her bag, then reaching out for her hand with his free one. The skin was soft, warm, perhaps even alien still but in way in which she couldn’t wait for it to feel familiar. His hand held hers, his palm facing downwards into hers, and this very specific article she’d once read in a women’s magazine about what different kinds of handholding meant popped into her mind. This kind of handhold, palm against palm, fingers wrapped around the other’s hand, was often a protective handhold where the person whose palm faced downward had the protective role. It was silly, she knew, but right then as he towed her with him into the now dark streets of Brooklyn, she liked the thought of it being true. 

Consequently, the recent return of good news brought them back to scene they’d fled from just 30 minutes ago. The bar was still crowded, mostly occupied by half-drunk officers and higher ranked officials, and the doomsday atmosphere from earlier had disappeared along with Dozermanns framed picture and the mic - which was probably for the best, Amy thought as they made their way to the bar to place their orders. 

“Beer?” he leaned against the bar.

“Beer,” she confirmed back, copying his pose and smiling at the sight of him carefully placing her bag on the stool next to him, keeping on hand on top of it meanwhile the other was used to signal two fingers. 

“Two beers, Hank.”

Hank nodded in approval. 

“I’ll just put my bag in the car, Jake. It’s annoying to have to look after it.” 

His head snapped to look at her. 

“It’s really no problem, Ames. Really.” He smiled softly and patted the soft, black leather. 

“You’re cute.” Gosh, he really was. Especially standing there in his nice uniform, handsome features highlighted by the glow of the bar’s twinkle lights. It sometimes rushed over her like a tidal wave just how cute he was and, honestly,  it made her head spin a little. “But I’ll put it in the car.” 

She grabbed one of the straps, about to pull, however Jake was quicker grabbing the other. Suddenly stuck in a tug-of-war of sorts, each their own strap with the rest of the bag dangling in the middle. Their eyes locked in with the others. She cocked a dark eyebrow challenging his actions. Jake on his side didn’t speak up and simply kept looking at her, eyes shining with mischief, a certain warmth and dreamy enchantment she wasn’t quite used to handling yet. Thus they stood there, neither of them letting go nor saying anything, one second after the other passing by as the sound of clinking glasses, laughter, music, and popped bottles subdued. Somehow, to her, it was just the two of them at that moment.

“What are you doing?” she chuckled, never letting her eyes slip from his.

For a moment he said nothing, simply keeping his eyes entangled with hers, shining with something so strong it had her blush coming right back to her cheeks - or had it ever really left? How could a couple of brown eyes, a pair he’d known for so long and looked into a million times before, shake her to her core like they did now? 

“Don’t mind me - just enjoying the view." He broke his silence. Distracted by the newfound charming smirk plastered on his face (the kind where it was mostly one corner doing the smiling while the other curled playfully) she failed to pay attention to anything else, and to her surprise, she suddenly felt a strong tug on the strap in her hand. Being taken off guard of course resulted in her body being roughly drawn across the space between the two, and she couldn’t tell if it was his plan. Whether or not it was, she, as a result of the sudden tug, felt her chest bump into his. If it hadn’t been for their reflexes telling their necks to yield back to avoid their heads bumping together, bleeding noses would definitely have been served. Instead, chins tugged bak from the yielding, they found themself inches from being nose tip to nose tip. His hands had instinctively flown to grab her hips to save her from tumbling further, and Amy could feel her breath hitch in her throat, taken back by the sudden move and the sudden proximity between them. It was when she was about to look at him and tell him off with a stupid, awkward joke that he noticed his lightly agape mouth and eyes drifting down to admire her lips. So close. They were so close, his always minty breath touching her face. 

Her cheeks must’ve been fiery red by now. How had she ever gone so long without giving in to him when her body reacted so strongly to his presence? 

She’d been pretty sure he didn’t do it consciously, however, still, she became even more aware of their very suddenly intimate position once his thumb slowly swept across her hipbone 

Yup, now she was definitely blushing. Speechless too, which was silly because, during the little less than a week they’d been dating, he’d been doing his fair share of shameless flirting and touching. Yes, that had mostly been in the privacy of either of their apartments. Never out in public amongst their peers which perhaps must’ve had him panicking a bit on the inside. From the look in his eyes she could tell the very exact moment he realized that a flirtatious punchline had slid right off his tongue and into the open air of what could be considered a work event. They’d talked a lot, like a lot, about worries, conserving mixing pleasure and business, pro-fer-sonal, as Jake liked to call it. It was mostly her worrying: she didn’t wanna risk getting in trouble or sabotaging her life-plan with any missteps. Even though he loved teasing her about it, he also respected it, which was now obviously showing on his face. His previously so mischievous smile was replaced by a nervous biting of his lips, a wistful gaze transformed into nervousness, and she could tell he was recalculating everything in his mind at a million miles per hour - or at least trying to. He was without a doubt trying to figure out if he’d crossed a line, and, if so, how he’d undo it.

Any other day in the past she would’ve probably turned to the easy solution: playfully pushed him off and hit him with a tongue-in-cheek comment. Today felt different. After spending a week holding their breaths and walking on eggshells around the Vulture, questioning everything they felt and had now finally given in, it’d feel so wrong to play it off cool and collected, acting as if they weren’t together because… they were. They were finally together for real; it’s what they’d been fighting for so long. Both each had their own respective battles but also their collective battle against the Vulture which only proved that they’re the best team. In more than just the professional way now, and this she had to allow herself to give in to. 

She heard hin swallow nervously, eyes switching between the ground, her eyes, and her lips. Around them, no one seemed to notice. The two of them. This was just the two of them, Amy reminded herself, and that was all that mattered. 

“You can kiss me, you know?” Tumbled out of her before she could overthink and regret it, which must’ve taken both herself and Jake by surprise. His before fly-swallowing gaping lips shut like a mousetrap and finally, she felt his eyes focus on hers once more. No constant moving, nothing, just his eyes looking into hers. Thump, she heard, as he let her bag fall to the ground. Strong fingers dug into the flesh of her hips with newfound confidence and she could tell that he finally hit that “screw this”-realization as well. He leaned in, covering the tiny bit of remaining space between them, and even then, just her luck, she could see his lips curl back into a smile.

“Oh yeah,” he cocked his eyebrows. “Lucky me,” he whispered just so he could feel lips ghosting against her before he, finally, drew her in entirely and welcomed her lips with his. As if they hadn’t already done a good amount of kissing, they were sucked into a tiny bubble of their own where nothing nor no one mattered. Their lips danced perfectly in sync, shifting between drawing in and fighting for dominance, to a melody that couldn’t be heard but could instead be felt. In that very moment, upon raising herself to stand on the tip of her toes and slide her hands around his neck, Amy had never been happier. Even in a crowded bar of colleagues and superiors, she couldn’t care less what people thought. For so long she’d yearned to know what Jake Peralta what feel and taste like, and now she could finally explore it whenever she wanted. For how long they stood like that, her bag thrown to the ground, his hands on her waist, her hands stroking his neck, she had no idea. It was slow, sweet, caring, nothing urgent or inappropriate, everything she needed and wanted. Each kiss was its own little earthquake. 

Sure, they did suffer some teasing, cat calling and whistling from their friends once they found them in a booth in the back corner of the bar. Knowing it was all with good intentions, they laughed it off, and for once, rather than it being Amy, it was Jake’s cheeks showing fifty shades of red. The evening proceeded as always, but better, Amy thought, as they played footsies under the table as Boyle told some absurd cuisine-related story. Two hours later she felt equally happy when leaving Rosa and Charles behind at the bar, not a single care in the world-like, as they made their way to her car parked in the precinct garage. They were joking, laughing at some lame joke he’d pulled out of thin air when suddenly he halted.

“Ames, your bag?”

“My bag?” she frowned at him when suddenly she realized that neither she nor he carried it. “Oh sh-”

“Hey, don’t worry! It’s probably still in the booth. Go ahead to the car and I’ll meet you there. Okay?” ” He smiled, squeezing her hand reassuringly.

Her eyes softened as she offered him a thankful smile back. How did she get so lucky?

“Thank you.”

 All Amy could do was smile to herself as she watched him jog back to the bar. She even found herself standing there for a moment after he’d disappeared into the dark, wondering just how she ever lived a life without this version of Jake Peralta in her life. Once reached her car, leaning against the side of it to wait, she took out her phone and gave into the mindnumbing act of scrolling through whatever social media timeline was the hype then and there. That’s when a text notification at the top of her screen caught her eye. 

Rosa Diaz: jake overheard a group of beat cops talking about you guys. he stomped out of the bar like an angry child lol 

Amy frowned at the message. What was going on and where was Jake? She wasn’t left wondering for too long. The sound of steps came closer, fast, and she just barely managed to recognize Jake’s figure before he’d dropped her bag on the ground next to her and pulled her into a kiss. Not just any kiss. A deep, warm, pushed-up-against-the-side of-her car-kind of kiss that had her toes curled in her uniform shoes. He didn’t seem angry or any kind of mood to worry about, however, something had definitely added some kind of fuel to his fire. The garage was dead silent, only the increasing intensity and loudness of their breathing could be heard. Amy felt swept off her feet, caught in a perfect storm where his body was the hurricane and their lips battled in the eye of it. Hands on her waist, feeling and stroking it with care, nails and fingers caught in his brown locks. She smiled and she felt him smile back, even though the intensity and lust of the moment. Deep down he’d always be a big softie. 

He pulled back a bit, breaking them apart, only to gaze into her eye with awe and admiration as if they hadn’t just spent the last couple of days being together. There was admiration, lust, and warmth, shining in them. Somehow the kiss had felt like a milestone, some sort of first kiss, in a way she couldn’t quite put a finger on. 

“You okay?” she whispered smiling, bopping the tip of his nose with her own in comfort. “Rosa texted me saying you stomped off.”

He rolled his eyes and shook his head, but she could tell he felt embarrassed. 

“Nothing.”

“That kiss wasn’t nothing, Peralta.” She teased with a grin. 

“It was really good, huh? Our first kiss as a non-threatened and non-soon-to-be-extinct couple.” Two could play that game. 

“Wow, so dark... and yes, it definitely was really good. Not gonna lie.” She bit the inside of her cheek. “But tell me what it was all about.”

“It was all about me being grossly obsessed with you.” He grinned and jabbed the sides of her waist, causing her to jump and giggle, caught in between his arms and the car. 

“Jake,” she scolded softly, impossible to help it when her smile stayed stuck on her face. 

He sighed, removing one hand from the side of her car to rub her forehead. “It was nothing, really. Just overheard some clowns talk about how bummed they were to find out that I’d … and I quote, “won you over by sheer luck”.” 

Oh… so people had noticed them, huh? Expecting herself to panic, overthinking what people would say or think, Amy was surprised by how calm and rather amused she felt upon hearing what had happened. It was as if it didn’t matter anymore. They were together, after all. 

“Oh, okay,” she nodded, not knowing what to say. Was he mad? Annoyed? Was she supposed to comment on it? 

“So I…” he bit his lip, pausing to think, “I just wanted to get back to you and really appreciate the luck that got me here.” The smile on his face was back, all restrains and tension about the situation, which he knew was more than silly, melted away. “Like wow, I just had to get back to you and appreciate how I get to just… kiss you whenever and wherever? And get to have these fans slash beat cops cheering us on?”

He smirked proudly and all Amy could do was laugh.  “You really are the lucky one, huh?” 

“I am, Ames. I really am. Also, so sorry for just jumping you. Should’ve thought that through - Brooklyn after dark isn’t exactly a safe haven.” 

“Don’t worry.” She smirked as she snaked her arms around his neck and pulled him into her, leaning her back against the car. Lips just far enough apart to not touch, she whispered “We’re both the lucky ones - that’s all that matters, Peralta.”

[galacticgraffiti]

PLS- Can I get a pt2 to the rebels rex sorry but make it wolffe- call me thirsty but MY GOD

how dare you apologise for thirsting over wolffe in my inbox, sweet nonnie? i love to thirst, and i love to thirst with you all even more. especially over wolffe. and writing a pt2 with wolffe was always the plan so- let’s gooooo y'all! i cannot stress enough how motivating and encouraging little messages and asks like these are ♡

If you all are interested, I'd definitely love to write a part 3 as soon as I have the time, because this (as always) escalated, soooo let me know what you think and what you'd like to see/read if i do make this into a mini-series!

Thank you so much to my cherished @djarrex for beta'ing for me, I appreciate you, you are fantastic and the absolute sweetest, and your live commentary while reading meant everything to me ❥

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Wordcount: 7.6k (I am so sorry) Warnings: age difference (everyone is of age), mentions of a threesome (no clonec*st), consensual voyeurism, orgasm without penetration, so much dirty talk, oral (m receiving), male masturbation, ass play (f receiving), some verbal degradation, mouth spitting, praise, cum as lube, actual threesome (kinda?), vaginal fingering, anal fingering, so much mando'a A/N: I feel like I have been neglecting my love Mando'a, so we are remedying that right now. A key with all the translations can be found at the end of the fic!

!!! NSFW/18+ !!!

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“Does it ever bother you, that I… that I kinda just continued to flirt with Wolffe?” you ask Rex. It’s been a few weeks since that time he dragged you out of the mess and fucked you stupid in a supply closet. And ever since it happened, you feel like Wolffe’s looks have just been getting more… intense. He still never touches you, not inappropriately at least - he finds excuses to hold your waist when he slips by, to touch your arm when he asks you a question. But he never goes any further than some ambiguous comments and knowing looks. And you enjoy the attention - even though Rex is wonderful, and you can’t imagine needing anything more than him, something about Wolffe just intrigues you.

“Does it bother me?” Rex considers for a second, his hand running up and down your naked arm and you shiver, pressing closer to him.

“Yeah. I mean, I don’t think he’d ever act on his comments, but… I like banter. So I never stopped, and I wanted to ask you… I don’t want to make you feel like you’re not enough, baby,” you try to explain. Rex smiles and presses a kiss to your forehead, his beard slightly scratchy against your smooth skin.

“No, mesh’la. It doesn’t bother me. And to be honest, I think Wolffe could use some… attention.”

You stare up at him, your mouth slightly agape.

“How’d you mean?” you have to ask, sitting up to properly look at Rex and pulling the sheets around you when the cool air hits your bare chest.

“I mean,” Rex is silent for a while, searching for the right words. “I mean, Wolffe used to get a lot of attention. Both the good kind and the bad kind - way back at 79’s. The bad kind mostly from natborns who were hoping to pick up girls there. And… ever since we joined the rebellion, ever since we started running, there obviously haven’t been many opportunities to… you know. Meet people. And sometimes I think he misses it, the attention - the good and the bad kind. And since you can’t give him a fight-“

“… I should fuck him?” you say incredulously, a wave of arousal mixed with surprise running down your spine. Rex winces at your words.

“Not the expression I would’ve used maybe, but- well, yes- I mean- I don’t want to imply that you-“ he stutters and you put a hand on his shoulder.

“I know what you mean, baby. Or at least I think I do. Are you saying you wouldn’t mind? If it ever went any further than flirting?”

“Hm-hm,” Rex sighs in relief and nods. “If you wanted to, I wouldn’t mind.”

“That’s very… honourable of you. Very selfless.” You smile and swing your leg over his hips to straddle him. Rex’s hands automatically grab your hips, guiding you in a steady rocking motion against him, just the sweet slide of skin against skin aided by the wetness that has been growing between your legs ever since this conversation took an unexpected turn.

“We are… we are vode,” Rex shrugs. “I don’t mind sharing, not with him. We’ve been through so much together.”

You consider for a second, your hands resting on Rex’s sturdy chest that’s speckled with white hair as you continue to mindlessly rock your hips down.

“So, are you saying… are you saying I should invite him? Or that you would let me… let me do as I pleased if anything happened naturally? Would you want to be a part of it? I’ve never really done anything like this, baby, and I… I’m definitely interested. I just never want to make you feel excluded or uncomfortable.”

“Hm-hm,” Rex hums, fingers tightening on your hips. You can feel his cock growing hard beneath you, you can see the way his eyes get darker. His beard scratches against your skin when he sits up to kiss your shoulder, pulling you closer to him. You hiss when your clit rubs against the velvet of his hardening cock and Rex chuckles before he sinks back once more.

“Whatever you want to do is fine,” he says. “You can invite Wolffe, you can let him think it was his idea - he’d probably enjoy that. Wolffe is… a little peculiar. I think you’d like him, like him a lot even. You’d like fucking him, too.”

The heat in your belly grows at Rex talking so casually about this even while his cock drags through your slick pussy, even as he stares at you hungrily as if he wants to devour you whole. His rough hands slide along your smooth skin, playing with your tits until your nipples are almost painfully hard while you continue grinding against him, your slick drenching his cock.

“Maybe I’ll join in at some point, if you’re okay with that,” Rex muses. “I don’t- I’d like to watch. I know Wolffe won’t mind that, would you?”

“Gods no,” you whisper, moaning when you bend down to kiss him, and his cock drags against your clit. “No, I wouldn’t mind that at all, Captain.”

Rex shudders and chuckles into your kiss.

“You filthy girl, you wanna get fucked by two old men, hm? Want me to watch how well you take my vod’s cock?”

“Stars, fuck Rex,” you whimper. “You can’t just say that to me.”

“Why not?” he teases. “You were teasing me for so long before we got together, don’t I deserve the right to tease back?”

“Hm,” you sigh, the sound coming out more breathless than you intended to. You rock down harder, circling your hips against Rex’s, your movements growing more desperate as pleasure starts building in your belly.

“Do you want to talk to Wolffe, sweet girl? You wanna ask him if he wants to fill your pretty pussy like I do? You wanna tell him how much you’d enjoy that?” Rex’s eyes are dark and looking at you so intently that there is no doubt he wants this just as much as you do. His fingers slip inside you with ease, just two of them, the stretch nothing compared to his cock, but still so good.

“Yes,” you whine, fingers flexing against Rex’s broad chest as you grind down, rubbing your clit against his cock as his fingers fuck into your soaking cunt at a languid pace. “Fuck, yes I do.”

“Then come for me,” Rex commands. “Let me feel how tight you can squeeze, and let me fill you later before you go talk to him. I want you to feel me still inside you when he agrees to ruin you.”

“Fuck!” you cry out, your orgasm a sudden and wild gust of pleasure that makes you tingle from head to toe as your cunt flutters around his fingers, your clit pressed against Rex’s cock, drenching him in your release. He chuckles, astonishment in his eyes.

“Oh, mesh’la,” he whispers, pulling his fingers from your sensitive pussy. “I didn’t think you’d actually do it… didn’t think you could come like that, but you really want this, don’t you?”

Your chest is still heaving, you are flushed and covered in a sheen of sweat as you look down at Rex before you press your lips to his.

“Fuck yes I do,” you murmur into his mouth. “Both of you, one of you, just so long as you are here for me.”

“I’ll always be here for you,” Rex whispers back, rubbing his beard against your cheek, rough fingertips running down your spine until you shiver. You melt under his touch and let yourself sag into him for a moment, enjoying the feeling of his fingers dancing over your skin, his belly resting against yours.

“Now,” you finally say and straighten back up to climb off of him and lay between his thick thighs, your mouth watering at the delicious sight of his leaking cock still covered in your own cum. “Let me take care of you, Captain?”

Rex groans and lets his head fall back when you take him into your mouth. Oh yeah, you think. Yeah, this will be fun. Now you just have to talk to Wolffe.

***

The meeting has been going on for hours - it was not scheduled to be that long, but turns out that reorganising all of the shipping routes to an entire system takes longer than anyone had anticipated. Finally, an unsatisfactory ending is called - the discussions and negotiations will continue tomorrow (and probably the day after that). As the other people slowly file out of the room, you stay to clean up a bit. Somebody’s got to do it, and while there are droids on this base, most of them are not cleared to be in here, even now that the war is over.

“What are you doing, sweetheart?”

A gruff voice interrupts your actions when you bend down to pick up a discarded cup. You twist around, still bent over, and are faced with Wolffe who is staring at your face just a little too intently to distract from the fact his eyes were laser-focused on your ass just a second ago.

“Cleaning up,” you shrug. “I don’t like leaving things messy.”

You straighten up and turn around. Wolffe is suddenly closer than you had anticipated, his cybernetic eye whirring as he looks you up and down.

“Hmm, from what I hear, there are some aspects where you quite enjoy getting messy, little one,” he murmurs and you blush, your breath halting.

You know Rex said they shared almost everything, and you have already given him the all-clear to talk with Wolffe about your relationship. He needs someone to talk to, you know that, and you don’t mind. Especially after that last comment he made earlier this week about Wolffe joining you don’t think them talking about you is a bad thing at all, but… hearing Wolffe’s gruff voice say those words out loud makes you tingle.

“Oh yeah?” you smirk when you get your bearings, stepping even closer to him and running your finger up his muscular chest. “What have you heard… Commander?”

“So far Rex has held back, ever the gentleman… my little brother. Doesn't like to talk to me about you that much, but here and there he lets things slip... He's such a nice man, don't you agree?" Wolffe pauses and his eye gets darker. "I wouldn’t be so nice to you, but from the way you’re looking at me right now I think you’d enjoy that, wouldn’t you, sweetheart? Oh no, you want to be treated like the filthy whore you are.”

You choke a little - he meant it when he said he wouldn’t hold back. This went from 0 to 100 real quick - you can feel your cunt pulse at his words, arousal already gathering in your belly. Wolffe’s presence is intoxicating in a different way than Rex’s is, not the familiar and comforting warmth Rex seems to exude, but an all-consuming heat that swallows you whole and spits you back out.

“I know Rex would never call you that, he calls you his... his good girl,” Wolffe continues and runs his finger along your cheek, tapping his thumb against your lips until you open up. “But you like this just as much, don’t you?”

You can’t answer, too preoccupied with the feeling of his rough thumb exploring your mouth, with the wetness that grows between your legs.

“Yeah, you’ll be good for me too,” Wolffe mumbles, pressing his thumb down against your tongue. “My good little whore.”

Your brain stops for a second before you catch yourself and let his finger slip out of your mouth to press closer to his body, your hand wrapping around his thick biceps as you blink innocently up at Wolffe.

"Hmm, is that what you're going to do, Commander? You're gonna fuck me like a whore?"

Wolffe growls - honest to the Maker growls - and steps back.

"Oh, you need it bad, don't you? You're fucking begging for it. But all in good time, sweetheart, don't you want to get Rex'ika's permission first?"

You follow his steps, one smooth flow of your limbs before your tits are pressed against his chest, his arms automatically sneaking around you, hands resting just above the swell of your ass as you look up at him.

"Oh Wolffe, baby," you coo and press a kiss into his beard. "I already have that."

His composure slips, just for a second - he closes his eyes and inhales deeply, his fingers flexing against your backside. The growing hardness of his cock against your hip makes you ache, ache to sink to your knees in front of him and let him take what he wants - what he needs - but even though you have Rex's permission, you also promised him something and you cannot break that vow.

"He wants to watch, though," you add and Wolffe's eyebrows shoot up into his hairline.

"Wants to watch," he mutters. "Just like we did way back on-"

"Way back on what?" you ask sweetly, fingers tracing the soft outline of his beard when Wolffe suddenly breaks off.

"Doesn't matter. That was a long time ago, and we are right here, right now... with you. Let's go."

Your movements halt, you didn't think-

"Wait, you mean right now?"

"Of course right now," Wolffe growls. "You don't get to tease me like that without punishment, sweetheart. I would've fucked you right here, right now- bent you over the goddamn holotable with your legs spread wide and that perfect ass on display for me, but you say Rex'ika wants to watch, so… Let's fucking go."

He takes your arm, not so rough it hurts, but enough that you can feel the urgency, the desperation ooze from him. You stumble after him through the halls, towards Rex's quarters and you pray to the Gods that he is there. Your panties are soaked through and if Wolffe's heated looks back at you are any indication, you are sure the Commander is still rock-hard and aching just as much for this as you are. Wolffe pounds on the door and when it slides open a few seconds later, you exhale shakily - whether out of relief or anxiety, you are not quite sure.

Rex stands in the doorway, beard trimmer in hand, a towel hanging low on his hips, and his chest bare. The fire Wolffe ignited in you burns brighter at the sight of your... well. What is he, exactly? He is Rex, your Rex, white beard, lines on his beautiful face, belly, and all. You squirm free from Wolffe's grasp to surge towards Rex, pressing up against him, his mouth immediately finding yours before he even asks what is going on.

"Baby," you whine. "Baby, I missed you."

"You saw me this morning, pretty girl," Rex chuckles. "I was here the whole time."

"I know," you breathe. "It's not the same without you. The meetings were boring, I missed you, missed feeling you against me."

Wolffe huffs in annoyance behind you and you can feel Rex's eyes leave you to look at his older brother.

"Me'bana, vod? Tion'jor gar'olar?"

"She said I had your permission," Wolffe grumbles.

"My permission?" The confusion in Rex's voice is palpable. "You always have my permission to come here, you know that. What's mine is yours-"

And then you can feel the credit drop, Rex’s hands gripping you tighter as he realises why Wolffe is here.

"You don’t mean my permission to come here-"

"No," Wolffe sighs, stepping closer to sneak his hand around your waist and pull you back against him. "Duum par gan'an gar cyar'ika."

"Oh," Rex breathes and stares back at you, his eyes dark. You watch the exchange with wide eyes - Mando'a is not exactly your forte. You wonder what they are saying.

"Kaysh tiona gar su? Ti’miite?" Rex pushes and Wolffe shrugs. Rex huffs and turns to you, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

"Do you want Wolffe to fuck you, sweet girl?"

The question knocks the breath out of you - the way Rex says it without judgement, without jealousy, just pure concern and care for you. You press your face into Rex's chest, Wolffe's hands loosening their grip as you strain against his arms.

"Hm-hm," you mumble, but Rex shakes his head.

"I need to hear you say it, mesh'la. Same rules still apply."

"Yes, Captain," you say quietly. Wolffe's fingers dig into your waist when you use Rex's title and you shiver before you go on, your voice hoarse but firm. "I want Wolffe to fuck me."

"Good girl," Rex answers and presses a quick kiss to your lips. "Always so good for me. If you want this, I need you to behave for my vod, understood?"

Your whole body is tingling when Rex pulls at you, Wolffe still plastered to your backside as you stumble into Rex's rooms, pressed between two large, broad bodies.

"Yes, Captain."

"Hmm," Wolffe grunts, his hands sliding up and down your body, tapping your thighs, ghosting over your tits. "Gar ba'juri kaysh pirusti."

"Praise her in a language she understands," Rex grumbles. "I think she'd like to hear you say it. Can't take credit for her behaviour, she does that all on her own, don't you, mesh'la? You want to be good for me."

"For you, always," you answer breathlessly, and Rex's chest shakes against yours when he chuckles.

"You're gonna make it harder for Wolffe to get you to behave than you do for me?"

You lean closer to Rex's ear, ghosting your tongue along the border of his beard and finally kissing the shell of his ear.

"I think he likes it when I talk back," you whisper and Rex shivers.

"You're perfect, cyar'ika, I hope you know that," he mumbles. He kisses you again, tongue slipping into your mouth and playing with yours until your head is swimming and you whine with need. Wolffe is pressing into your back, his hard cock nestled against your ass, his hands exploring your body as if he has all the time in the world while Rex takes what's his. Finally, Rex steps back.

"If you're ready, mesh'la…" he looks at you questioningly and you nod. Rex swipes his thumb over your lips and falls back into his nearby seat, legs spread so wide the towel nearly slips from him, his cock straining against the thin material. Rex looks at Wolffe when he speaks again. "An'gar, ori'vod."

"Vor entye, vod," Wolffe says, and for just a moment, his voice is soft and sweet and so familiar he sounds like Rex. He nods to you. "Bal gar, cyare."

You smile noncommittally at him when Rex's voice resounds from behind you.

"He thanked you, cyar'ika. What do you say when you are praised?"

"Thank you, Cap- Commander," you whisper and Wolffe smirks.

"And you said you didn't train her well, Rex'ika. Take credit where credit is due, vod."

Rex grumbles something you don't understand. You giggle at their grumpiness - old men, the both of them. A hand closes around your throat, and you automatically stand up straighter when Wolffe turns you around to face him. His hand remains where it is, pressing lightly against your throat, so he can feel when you swallow. He steps closer, so close you can feel the heat radiating off of him and his cock presses against your hip when he bends down, his breath ghosting over your face.

"You alright with kissing me, sweetheart?"

You nod, then catch yourself.

"Yes, Commander."

Wolffe's grin bares his teeth, and maybe it's just your imagination, but his teeth seem sharper than Rex's somehow, pointier, more dangerous. His hands slip down to your ass, grabbing at you as he surges forward and presses his lips against yours. There is no fight - Wolffe takes and takes, and you give willingly, give him whatever he wants - whatever he needs. His tongue is hot inside your mouth and his fingers dig harshly into your skin as you stumble backwards until you are pressed up against the wall, Wolffe's thick thigh slotted between your legs. You vaguely hear Rex shifting in his seat and your eyes wander over to him before Wolffe's lips leave yours and his sharp teeth nip at your jaw.

"Eyes on me, sweetheart. You may be Rex's cyar'ika, but tonight you follow my orders and my orders only." His fingers wander along your sides and slip down to press between your legs, your slick drenching the fabric. Wolffe groans and pulls at the fabric. "So wet for me already, are you really that excited, hm? You're fucking desperate, begging for an old man to fuck you because you just can't get it right by yourself… No, you need me to take care of you, need my vod'ika because your little fingers just aren't enough. You want to be stretched out, you want to feel the burn when you sit the next morning, still fucking cockdumb from riding me, don't you, sweetheart?"

You stare at him wide-eyed, your heart pounding in your chest and your blood rushing so loudly in your ears you can barely hear him.

"Answer him, mesh'la," Rex's soft but stern voice demands. You turn your head to look over to him, but Wolffe's hand closes around your jaw and forces you to look at him instead, his heterochrome eyes meeting yours. Fresh desire erupts in your stomach when you see the way he is looking at you – pure, unbridled lust and behind it all, a hint of affection you did not expect.

"Yes, Commander," you press out.

"Yes what? I'm going to need you to be a little more specific, sweetheart. Tell me what you want me to do to you and I'll reward you, baby girl."

You shudder at the nickname and Wolffe grins his obnoxious smile, the one that usually makes you want to punch him, but you are too distracted by his fingers pressing into your soaking cunt to care.

"Hmm she liked that name, vod'ika. Maybe you should steal it for next time you fuck her, I think she creamed her pretty little panties just from hearing that."

Rex grunts something you don't catch in the haze that has fogged up your brain.

"So?" Wolffe asks and looks at you expectantly. Your brain is blank and you just stare back, mouth slightly agape, your lips bruised and red from his kisses. Wolffe turns back to Rex, a toothy smile on his face that reminds you of a predator about to deliver a deadly blow to his prey.

"Look at your girl, Rex. She's already gone all cockdumb for me and I haven't even given her anything yet. She always like this?"

"Hmm, she's very good usually," Rex drawls. "You just have to coax it out of her. Osik, you should feel how good her lips feel wrapped around your cock. She’s fucking amazing, and she tries so hard to fit it all into her little mouth, so eager to please, so desperate to be filled."

Wolffe turns back to you, the dizziness from his kisses slowly subsiding in favour of a deep pleasurable burn in your belly as you listen to Rex’s praises. You smile back at Wolffe when he grins.

"That true, sweetheart? You just want to stop thinking and get that pretty mouth stuffed with my cock?"

And just like that you lose your mind all over again.

"Yes, Commander," you say weakly, your knees nearly buckling at his words, cunt flooding with fresh arousal.

"Go on, tell me what else you need, baby girl," Wolffe encourages you. He runs his fingers down your sides, grabbing at your ass, mouthing at your tits through the thin fabric of your shirt. "Tell me how much you like this, what a good fucking whore you are. Let me hear it all, sweetheart."

"Fuck," you pant and try to collect your last remaining braincells. "Wolffe, I- I want you to fill me, want to feel the weight of your cock on my tongue and know how you taste, want you to fuck me until I'm dripping with y-you, until I... until I can't even think anymore."

"Quite the talker, once you get going, aren't you?" Wolffe smirks, but you can see how blown-out his pupils are, you can feel his heart beating rapidly against your own chest. You know this affects him too, even if his voice is calm when he speaks again. "Undress, sweetheart. Right now. I want to feel that mouth Rex praised so kriffing much, and I want to see those perfect tits while I fuck your mouth."

You scramble to get undressed when Wolffe steps to the side and your eyes land on Rex, his legs still spread wide, one hand wrapped around his thick cock as he languidly strokes himself.

"Oh," you whisper, your knees going weak at the sight of him, at the droplet of precum at the tip of his cock and the splatter of white hair that leads down from his belly button. You want to lick it, taste him and make him feel good, but tonight is about Wolffe.

"You got me so hard, princess," Rex rasps. "I had to. You're gonna look so beautiful on your knees, your mouth stuffed full with my vod’s cock."

"She sure will," Wolffe grunts, tapping at your waistband. "That too... princess."

You undress in a trance, eyes glued to where Rex's hand wraps around his cock, to the white hair at the base - because you know how it feels when he is inside you, you know how it tickles and how soaked it gets when you come around him.

"Go on then," Wolffe's gruff voice commands you and your head snaps back to look at him. He shrugs. "Kiss him before you surrender your mouth to me to use for my pleasure. I know you want to."

You stumble over to Rex, sinking to your knees between his legs as he bends down and kisses you. His beard is soft but wiry against your cheek and his lips feel so good on yours that you think you could lose yourself forever in this moment.

"Can I?" you ask breathlessly when Rex pulls back, your hand sneaking up his thigh to lay over his bigger one as he strokes himself. Rex chokes a little but shakes his head.

"Oh no, mesh'la, I'm not- if I let you put your mouth on me, I'll never let you go. I'll be just fine here, watching you, sweet girl. Go... go to Wolffe, show him how good you can be."

You smile and press a soft kiss to Rex's thigh. A tremble runs through his muscles, and he groans quietly. It takes all your strength not to ignore his orders and just... let your tongue dart out, let yourself have a taste, just a taste, just a little - no, you can't. And so, you get up and turn to Wolffe who watches with a strange look in his eye. He has undressed in the meantime, and you can practically feel yourself salivating as you look him up and down. Rex is perfect just the way he is - thick muscles covered with a layer of fat that comes with age, broad strength decked out in softness. But Wolffe, Wolffe has retained all of his former glory, muscles still just as defined as they must have been all those years ago, arms bulging and legs as thick as kriffing tree trunks. Fuck, these men are going to be the death of you.

"On your knees," Wolffe growls. Your knees give out even without your permission - his voice makes you want to obey his every word. You place your hands on your thighs, palms open, and look up at him.

"Open your mouth, tongue out, princess," Wolffe orders and smiles when you follow his instructions. "Good girl. I can see why Rex likes you so much."

"Not only because of that," Rex chimes in, his voice soft, and Wolffe chuckles.

"Oh, I'm sure her pussy feels amazing too, all wet and tight and warm, can't wait to fucking ruin her-"

"Gar kar'tayli ibac nayc ner miit," Rex grumbles and Wolffe laughs.

"Ni kar'tayli, udesii, vod'ika."

You can't help but smile at the exchange even though you don't know what they are saying - they are so comfortable with each other, their banter so easy, years and years of practice and countless battles survived.

"Ni copaani pehir lo kaysh uram," Wolffe says, and his voice is suddenly dark and laced with something you can't quite put your finger on. "Ibac jate par'gar?"

"Meh par kaysh," Rex says after considering for one second and you tilt your head in question when Wolffe stares down at you.

"You'll take whatever I give you, won't you, sweetheart?" he asks, and you nod eagerly. You want to taste him, to-

Wolffe bends down and in a split-second of confusion, you wonder if he'll kiss you before he slips his cock between your waiting lips and tries to close your mouth, but Wolffe's hand grips your jaw tight and then - he spits into your mouth. Your eyes go wide, and you don't know how to react, but your body responds on its own accord, new slick flooding your cunt as arousal makes your spine tingle. A raw moan escapes you when Wolffe lets go of your jaw.

"Swallow," he says quietly, the commanding edge to his tone in no way lessened by the volume of his voice. You shudder and swallow thickly, Wolffe's watchful eyes glued to your throat as you do.

"Good fucking girl," he mumbles. "Did you like this? You like being used by me, proving that your body belongs to me… for now?"

"Yes, Commander," you answer, a little too quickly, and Wolffe chuckles.

"Of course you did. A perfect little whore, so good for me, you really will take anything I give you."

Your gaze flickers over to Rex who watches with dark eyes, his hand moving up and down his cock a little faster, his chest heaving with breaths and covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

"Open up for me again, sweetheart," Wolffe rasps and then finally, you get to feel the weight of his cock on your tongue. He feels the same as Rex in so many ways, the stretch of him, the way he bumps against the back of your throat. And still, he feels completely different, in the way he doesn't pull back when you gag slightly, and he tastes so different from what you have come to know. You are fascinated, your tongue exploring Wolffe's cock eagerly, licking what you can reach before you pull back to close your lips around his head and suck.

"Kyor'la haran, cyare," Wolffe spits. His hand grips your hair to hold you steady as he pushes deeper into your mouth. You press your tongue to the underside of his cock, feeling the ridges and veins, making your mouth feel even tighter for him even as your eyes start to water.

"Nar dral'shya, just a little more, relax your throat for me," Wolffe mumbles. "Come on, make me proud, make Rex proud, I know you can do it."

You take a deep breath and steady yourself as he presses on. Finally, your nose is nestled against the soft hair at the base of his cock. Wolffe is thick and heavy in your mouth, velvety-hard with a taste so different from Rex.

"Very good, mesh'la," Rex coos from behind you, and the pride in his voice warms your face. You look up at Wolffe who is staring down at you with his eyebrows drawn together.

"Relax for me. If it gets too much you tap my thigh twice," he instructs you and gives you a second to nod and adjust before he starts thrusting into your mouth. Strong fingers grip your skull to hold you still. The feeling of him using you like this as Rex looks on makes the fire in your belly burn hotter, your skin prickling under Rex's watchful eyes. Your lips stretch obscenely around Wolffe's cock, and you can feel your spit dripping down on your tits. It’s filthy and debauched and absolutely fucking delicious. The whole world is filled by your pleasure, and your pleasure is what you can give Wolffe. And Wolffe talks, filth pouring from his mouth like he has been holding back the words for months on end.

"So good for me, for both of us, letting Rex'ika watch how his girl gets fucked by his vod... Because this is where you want to be, sweetheart, isn't it? On your knees in front of me, my cock shoved so deep inside your mouth that you don't have to think anymore, not about anything else but not choking on me - nothing else but breathing steady while I use you like the good fucking whore you are for me."

Wolffe's thrusts are precise, always stopping just short of where you know you would gag, but you can feel him probing how far he can go, stretching your limits slowly but surely. "Yeah, just like that, you love that feeling, don't you? Mouth stuffed full with a fat cock, your knees aching from submitting to me, you fucking need this. I can see the way you look at me - how you looked at Rex, too, how much you let your eyes drift all those months. Never to those young rebels, never to those your own age, but always to him, to me, to us, you knew... you knew we could make it so good for you, you wanted this, you know what you were getting yourself into. You wanted us, old fucking men because you love this, you filthy girl… Love the grit and the fucking thrill of it, letting yourself get ruined by us, your tits, your perfect ass, they’re all for us, so smooth and soft and warm…"

Wolffe pulls back to let you breathe for a second. You inhale deeply, inhale- exhale- inhale- exhale, before you open your mouth for him again, waiting until he leans forward and taps your lips with his spit-slick cock. Your tongue darts out to lick at his slit. Wolffe curses and pushes back inside your waiting mouth.

"Haar'chak, so fucking good," Wolffe growls, his voice no more than a low rumble. "Look so sweet with your lips wrapped around me and those innocent fucking eyes even while I ruin you, wanna see if you still look so fucking innocent with my cum dripping down your face-"

A rush makes you forget your composure and you choke, throat locking up before Wolffe pulls back. He looks down at you, a strange mix of disappointment and pride on his face.

"What's the matter, baby girl? You don't want that? Do you want me to come on your tits instead? Maker, Rex, look how they fucking bounce when she moves, and that ass, Maker - that fucking ass, I want to bury myself in it..."

The world fades away as you imagine it, riding Rex with his face buried between your tits while Wolffe stretches you open from behind until he can fill you too. Their deep voices rumbling praises, how good you are, taking both of them, how sweet and tight…

"I'd love nothing more," you hear yourself say before you can think twice. You are met with incredulous stares from two pairs of eyes.

"You'd let me?" Wolffe finally says and you shrug, wiping your spit from your chin and sitting up straighter.

"I don't see why not... if Rex doesn't mind."

"Mind?" Rex chimes in, leaning forward in his seat, his hand still wrapped around his leaking cock. You can tell how close he was from the tension in his limbs, from the swollen head of his cock. You lick your lips as Rex stares at you. "No, cyar'ika, I don't mind. I'd love to... love to watch."

"Watch?" you ask and shuffle closer to Rex on your knees, placing your hands on his large thighs as you sit between his legs. "I was thinking more of a... participating situation."

Rex chokes a little and you hear a groan from Wolffe behind you.

"You want us both?"

"At the same time?"

You don't know which one of them says what, but it doesn't matter, because you nod Yes to both of their questions.

"Hm-hm. I'd love to try."

"Maker, what did I do to deserve you?" Rex asks and leans forward to kiss you, tongue licking into your mouth with a hunger you've never quite experienced before.

"Have you ever taken a cock in your ass?" Wolffe asks and Rex cringes away from you at the crudeness of the words.

"Vod! Iba'osik'la tionas," he grumbles. You blush.

"No," you admit shyly. "I have some... toys. But I've never tried them with anyone else. Or tried to take… well."

There is shuffling behind you and then you feel Wolffe's broad frame wrap around you when he kneels down and presses against your back.

"Let me stretch you open," he mumbles and it sounds almost like a plea. "I want to be the first, I want to be... I want to be the one to completely ruin you, stretch your beautiful ass open on my cock."

You don't answer straight away, instead you look up at Rex with a silent question written in your eyes. Are you okay with this? When Rex inclines his head ever so slightly, you have your answer.

"Please, Commander," you whisper. "I'm all yours."

Rex puts his hand on your cheek and you smile up at him.

"You're perfect," Rex whispers. "Kandosii'la, so good for us."

His cock is right in front of you as you kneel between his muscular thighs, and he is so hard you know he has to be aching for release, his cock weeping precum even though his hand stays completely still.

"Captain," you mutter. "Oh, Captain… Rex, baby. Will you let me suck you off while Wolffe opens me up? I wanna taste you, make you come in my mouth, please?"

Rex groans when your tongue flicks out to lick at the head of his cock. His leg trembles and pride blooms in your chest. It is you who can make him come undone like this, just you and your tongue.

"Sirbu elek, vod'ika," Wolffe grunts from behind you. "Dinui kaysh mayen sur'ar'bat vaal ni tenni’kaysh."

"Go ahead, then, princess," Rex whispers. "Go ahead, show me how well you suck my cock. Let me hear those pretty sounds you make while Wolffe stretches you, fills your ass like I fill your mouth. You'll look so pretty with your lips wrapped around my cock and Wolffe fucking you, so good for us."

You shiver – Rex has never held back, but Wolffe’s presence seems to bring out new dimensions of filthy descriptions. Wolffe spits and you can feel his saliva running down your back before he slides his thumb along the wet path. The thick pad of his finger nudges against your hole and a tremor runs down your spine.

"Focus on Rex, sweetheart," Wolffe rasps. "Make him feel good, I'll be careful. Tell me if it gets too much, but... haar'chak, wanna see how you stretch around me as I open you up, you'll look so pretty - such a good little whore letting me use her, fuck her open with my fingers even while you suck Rex off. You want my mouth too?"

Before you can answer, Rex shakes his head.

"Ashi ca'nara, vod. Don't overwhelm her."

"Hmph." You feel Wolffe's breath fanning across your arched back. He plants little kisses down your spine, a surprisingly sweet gesture that distracts you from Rex until the man in front of you traces your lips with his finger.

"You asked to do something, princess, you gonna make good on that?"

"Sorry, Cap-," you gasp, right when Wolffe carefully pushes his finger inside you. Your cunt pulses around nothing, the sensation of fullness so different from how it usually feels.

"You're doing so well, sweetheart," Rex whispers. "Let Wolffe work on you, just relax... Relax, and be a good girl for me. Focus on me."

You lean forward, arching your back even more, and hear Wolffe curse behind you when his finger slips deeper into your ass. You take a shuddering breath, and lick a broad stripe up Rex's cock. He sighs and lets his head fall back.

"There we go, just focus on me, mesh'la."

Your tongue darts out to lick at his head before you take him into your mouth, gently sucking, then letting him slide deeper. Rex tenses and you can feel him willing himself to hold on a while longer. You focus on his breaths, on the way his belly rises and falls as you lick and suck and kiss whatever you can reach. Rex's hand rests loosely in your hair, but aside from quiet groans and sighs, he does not speak, which makes the sounds his cock produces as it slides in and out of your mouth even more lewd.

"Look at you," Wolffe drawls behind you. He spits again, pulling his finger from you to spread his saliva before he pushes back inside. "On your knees with my fingers up your ass and your mouth full of my vod's cock. You're happy like this, aren't you?"

You can't answer, too preoccupied with the feeling of Rex's thick cock inside your mouth, swirling your tongue around him until Rex groans. Wolffe chuckles, then huffs in frustration.

"My spit is not gonna be enough, baby girl, you're so fucking tight. Such a pretty ass, but I'll never be able to fit my cock in there."

You pull off of Rex with a wet pop and twist around to stare at Wolffe whose eyes are fixed on your spread ass cheeks. You wipe your mouth.

"Use your cum," you suggest, only the slightest tremble in your voice betraying the arousal that makes your brain fuzzy.

"What?" Both of them ask at the same time and you have to suppress a giggle.

"Use your cum to open me up, Commander."

"Kyor'la haran, woman, you're gonna be the death of me," Wolffe mumbles, but he shuffles closer, his hand sneaking to your front to swipe through your dripping cunt and collect your slick. "Fuck, your pussy feels so good, sweetheart… So fucking wet for me., I’ll have to taste you later."

"Hmm, all for you," you whisper even as you're staring up at Rex who grins at you. You can hear the wet slide of skin against skin as Wolffe pumps himself behind you, using your slick as lube, before he nestles his cock between your cheeks. You blush as he starts thrusting, his cock dragging through the valley of your ass cheeks, spreading the slick from your cunt as Wolffe fucks into his own hand. You give yourself a few seconds to get used to the feeling before you wrap your lips around Rex's cock again.

"Fuck, that feels good," Wolffe grunts behind you. "Can't even imagine how good your ass will feel around me - gonna be a tight fucking fit, but I'm gonna stretch you out, baby girl. You're gonna take me so easily when I'm done with you..."

You hum around Rex's cock and a tremor runs through his thigh, the muscle rippling underneath your hand. You hum again and Rex's grip grows tighter.

"I'm gonna come," he warns you, "I'm gonna come if you do that again, you feel so fucking good - your mouth is so perfect, so warm and wet and tight - a-almost as good as your perfect little pussy."

You pull back to kiss the swollen tip of his cock and blink up at him.

"Thank you, Captain."

Rex groans and pulls you back down. You relax your throat and lean forward, letting him slip past the barrier of your throat - and then you swallow. Rex's leg jumps and you can see the muscles in his stomach tighten, his hands pulling at your hair before his hot, salty release floods your mouth. Even as you swallow it all down, you can feel Wolffe's thrusts behind you getting sloppier, his rhythm faltering. You lick your lips and kiss Rex's inner thigh before you push your hips back and twist around to look at Wolffe. He is rutting desperately against you, one hand splayed on your lower back, the other gripping the base of his cock as it slides between your slicked up cheeks.

"Come for me, Commander," you mutter. "Come for me so you can fuck me properly, fill my ass with your fat cock, you know I need it-"

"Haar'chak," Wolffe grits out and it only takes one more thrust before his hot release pearls down your back and trickles down your ass. The feeling of it is strange but not unwelcome, and the little rush of power you get from making Wolffe come with your words only serves to intensify your high. Wolffe sags a little, sweat shining on his forehead as he smirks at you, baring his teeth and letting out a howl. You giggle, then get distracted when he drags his fingers through his cum on your back, eyes fixed on your hole as he pushes his slicked-up thumb back inside you.

"Hmm," you hum, cunt pulsing with need.

"That feel good, princess?" Rex asks, leaning forward in his chair. You rest your cheek on his thigh and grind your hips back into Wolffe's rough hands. Rex’s fingers wrap around your wrist, tracing slow circles that distract you from the slight burn when Wolffe adds a second finger.

"Feels good," you confirm and Wolffe chuckles.

"Oh, we're gonna have a lot of fun together, sweetheart."

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Mando'a translations

Me'bana, vod? Tion'jor gar'olar – What’s up, brother? Why are you here? Duum par gan'an gar cyar'ika – Permission to fuck (have) your girl Kaysh tiona gar su? Ti’miite? – Did you ask her yet? Using (with) words? Gar ba'juri kaysh pirusti – You trained (educated) her well. An’gar, ori’vod – All yours, [older] brother. Vor entye, vod. Bal gar, cyare – Thank you, brother. And you, sweetheart. vod’ika – little brother Gar kar'tayli ibac nayc ner miit – You know that’s not what I meant (you know those are not my words) Ni kar'tayli, udesii, vod'ika – I know, relax, little brother. Ni copaani pehir lo kaysh uram. Ibac jate par'gar? – I want to spit in her mouth. Are you alright with that (is that good for you)? Meh par kaysh. – If it is for her. Kyor'la haran, cyare – Fucking (rotten) hell, sweetheart! Nar dral'shya – Try harder Vod! Iba'osik'la tionas – Brother! That’s a fucking rude question. Kandosii'la – Amazing Sirbu elek, vod'ika. Dinui kaysh mayen sur'ar'bat vaal ni tenni’kaysh. – Say yes, little brother. Give her something else to focus on while I open her up. Ashi ca'nara, vod. – Another time, brother.

cyar'ika - darling cyare - sweetheart, love (petname) mesh'la - beautiful vod - brother ori'vod - older brother vod'ika - little brother Rex'ika - diminutive of Rex's name

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(throws this filth out into the galaxy and leaves)

@ethenae @adancedivasmom @kakashibabe02 @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @asaucecoveredsomething @book-of-baba-fett @mando-amando @gotomarvelgal @muffledgorillaviolence @imalovernotahater @thefact0rygirl @corrabell @nomercyforthewarrior @msfett @ashotofspotchka @milf-obi-wan-kenobi @hayley-the-comet @ladykatakuri @deewithani @meabravo @fivesarctrooper @rowansparrow @maygalodon @levi-llama @solidago-sempervirens @sithdjarins @daore @mavendeb @lackofhonor @perpetual-fangirl900 @imtryingmybeskar @clonecyare @sharpbarnacle @amcheeken @pinkiemme @lightan117 @echoskama @ittybittykylo @mssbridgerton @rintheemolion @megalinditron @queencousland101 @kaorikoizumi

extra mentions to those who really liked pt. 1! ♡ @rescuethewretched @loverofclones @dangerousstrawberrypie @thesithformerlyknownaskenobi @moonstrider9904

extra special mention to @cyarbika who made me think all the Thots about wolffe with her fantastic fic ❥

[our-marvel-universe]

Easy On Me

Andy x Reader

WC - 896

Warnings - heart wrenching fluff? This is so fluffy I gave myself a fucking tooth ache so get ready.

Prompt - “Great. Really great, this is just perfect.” from this prompt list by @creativepromptsforwriting

A/N - lawyer daddy just makes me fucking soft ok? Not beta'ed

“Great. Really this is just great” You mutter to yourself as you look at the mess all over the floor. In your attempt to rush and clean up dinner you’d dropped the serving dish and spilt food everywhere. This night was turning into an absolute disaster. You look at the elaborately set table with the candles burning and the mess in front of you on the floor and instantly start to cry. Plopping yourself down you are unable to hold back your sobs as you mourn the loss of what was supposed to be a romantic night.

Andy pulls up, excited to finally be home. It had been such a long day and he couldn’t wait to snuggle on the couch with you. That’s all he needed was you in his arms. Walking in the side door he takes one look at you and rushes to your side.

“Honey, what happened, are you alright?” Andy treads carefully realizing there are shards amongst the food all over the floor. He reaches for you but you shove his hand away. You’re upset and embarrassed getting caught crying on the floor like this. You can’t stand the idea of him comforting you right now. You wish he wasn’t even here to see you like this.

“Ok ok, are you hurt” Andy knows sometimes when you get really upset like this you don’t want to be touched but he needs to make sure you're ok. He tries looking you over and he can’t see any visible wounds.

“Sweetheart I know you're upset but I need you to tell me if you're hurt.”

You shake your head no, unable to form words through your crying.

“Ok do you want to tell me what happened…?

You hiccup a couple times before you begin to answer him “I was making dinner and then it slipped and fell on the floor and spilt EVERYWHERE and now everything is ruined!!!” You start to sob harder now reliving the events all over again.

“ohh sweetheart…" Andy sighed. "it's alright. We can just order out if…"

"But I was trying to surprise you" you cried "you've been working so hard and I wanted to do something special for you."

"Well I appreciate the effort, I really do, but I don't need anything special, I just need you.” he insists, holding out his hand. You sniffle, wiping at your eyes as your tears begin to slow down. You finally place your hand in his, allowing him to help you to your feet and over to a clean spot in the kitchen.

You immediately burrow your face into his chest seeking comfort in his warm embrace. He gently rubs your back and places a tender kiss on your forehead before holding you at arm's length.

“Now why don’t you change into some comfy sweats and get yourself settled on the couch while I clean this up?”

“What no this is my mess I can” He immediately cuts you off.

“No arguing, sweetheart I’ll take of it don’t worry.”

“But!” He shakes his head, turning you around and sending you off.

It’s a little while later, your settled on the couch wearing one of Andy's shirts and snuggled under your favorite blanket. Andy walks over with your pint of ice cream. You thank him, sitting up so you can share.

“Feeling better sweetheart?” He asks sticking his spoon in the frozen treat.

“Mhhmm, starting to.” Looking down you once again feel embarrassed at your meltdown “I’m sorry I don’t even know why I got upset before I just…” You trail off covering your face with your hand.

“Hey, hey” Andy gently takes the ice cream from you, putting it down he takes your hands in his. “How many times do I have to tell you, you have nothing to apologize for alright?” His firm voice leaves no room for arguing, and his firm grasp on your hands compels you to meet his eye.

“Feelings are feelings and mine are valid” You repeat your mantra to him.

“That’s right and you, mean everything to me, which means your feelings are important to me too alright? You never need to apologize for how you're feeling, not with me, not with anybody.” He reminds you.

He always reminds you. It’s something you’ve been working on and Andy being the absolute amazing man he is has been nothing but supportive in your growth and attempt to break old patterns. You spent your whole life being quieted. Told you were too emotional, that you cry too much, that you overreact. Andy was the first person you ever met who never made you feel small. He knew you had big feelings and he loved you for it. He never shamed you or silenced you. He supported you always. And his love inspired you to take charge and have confidence in the big heart you’ve always had but often tried to hide.

“I love you so much” You say, pressing your forehead to his.

“I love you even more sweetheart” he says before placing a gentle kiss on your lips. Separating from you he grabs the ice cream handing it back to you.

“Let’s finish off this pint yeah?”

Grabbing your spoon from him you give him one last peck before settling back in on the couch with your favorite person in the whole world.

[bluemusickid]

A request for Jake Jensen x reader, reader is baking and Jake tries to help to only end up in a big mess and them all over each other on the surfaces in their kitchen 😏🍆🤤😉 smut please an lots of it please and thank you 😊

Oh woooow, digging the Jake Jensen love. Sorry it took me so long lol, my brain won't comply. I added a lil' twist, nonnie, hope you don't mind! (Provided you're still reading, heh.)

Pairing: Chef!Jake Jensen × Fem!Reader

Warnings: smut, 18+, MINORS DNI, unprotected sex (don’t be silly wrap your willy), Jake being Jake, kinda filthy lolol

A/N: Join my taglist here. Minors not allowed, pls heed all warnings. You are responsible for your media consumption, and you alone. Not beta'ed, any mistakes, grammatical or otherwise are all mine. I only post my work on AO3 and Tumblr, nowhere else. Reblogs are welcome and appreciated. Peace and love.  Dividers by the wickedly talented @firefly-graphics . Hope you enjoy this lil' lighthearted piece. xoxo Lexi

Baker’s Delight

You huffed, a small cloud of flour forming as you did. You'd stayed back after hours at school, determined to get good at crème brûlée before leaving. Chef Jensen had been kind enough to explain it twice, but somehow your brain wouldn’t register the steps. You were determined to get it right, even if it meant staying up all night, even staying at the school.

You poured the ingredients in a huge bowl, measuring everything to the last milligram. You would make the best crème brûlée the world saw, better than that damn Julian, who just wanted to get Chef Jensen's attention. Pfft. You'd show him.

You were about to start mixing when a noise startled you out of your thoughts, the bowl nearly falling off the counter. Your stomach plunged at the thought of your hard work going to vain, but thankfully, by divine providence, it was caught by a hand which popped out from behind you, grabbing the bowl and swiftly keeping it back on the counter.

You gasped and turned with a whoosh, your chest bumping against a hard wall of muscle, as you looked up into the eyes of your lover. Jake looked at you, amusement evident in his eyes.

“Hey baby.” he crooned, giving you a peck on your cheek. You smiled. You both had agreed to be professional during class, but you had to admit, seeing him in action and being in complete control, made him irresistible.

His meringue class was the the best; his strong muscular arms beating those egg whites by hand, it could be categorised as porn. You’d heard a few girls swoon about how his bulging biceps were flexing with every turn of the whisk. You couldn’t help feeling a little jealous; that night, you rode him like it was the end of the world, in his uniform no less. He was bemused at first, but didn’t complain (obviously).

You did want to make it as a good chef, no doubt, and it did help that he was a renowned Chef, who took his job seriously. But sometimes you felt like if you weren’t together, he wouldn’t pay attention to you. You knew you weren’t the best student, which is why you spent extra time after school, honing your skills. You’d show that kiss ass Julian what a real crème brulèe looked like. Without kissing ass. Well, maybe only a little.

You turned around, returning to the task at hand. You couldn't afford to get distracted, no matter how hot he looked with his tousled hair and chain hanging loosely from the confines of his tight t-shirt. Whisking the egg whites, you faltered as you felt his hands settle over yours, setting the appropriate speed. His hot breath tickled your ear as you felt him hot and hard against your hip, slightly undulating as he helped you whisk. Your breath caught in your throat, your eyes closing as you let your emotions wash over you.

"I guess they're done now." You whispered, letting go of the whisk. Jake was now nibbling on your earlobe, his hands resting on your hips. "Good." he mumbled, roughly turning you as he pulled off your apron and shirt in a frenzy, leaving you in your bra. You gasped, alarmed at his alacrity. Everyone had already left the school by now, but the security in the building could very well walk in at any moment.

Pulling off your bra, he took a nub in his mouth, laving it with his tongue, as his fingers skilfully caressed your other nipple, leaving you breathless. Your fingers moved to his pants, trying to undo his belt buckle but failing. He stopped his ministrations, turning you around to face the counter. Undoing your jeans and pulling them down along with your underwear, he dipped his fingers into the bowl of sweetened condensed milk, trailing them down your back. You moaned, unable to stay silent any longer. The asshole knew that your back was one of your most sensitive parts and drove you wild. Leaning down, he licked the condensed milk, softly biting down on the flesh after every caress of his tongue. You keened, moving your hips against his clothed crotch, his arousal very evident. Moving his fingers lower, he slipped a finger into your weeping channel, a muffled groan escaping his mouth as your walls tightened around his finger. He fucked you with his fingers, all the while thrusting himself against you for relief. Breaking apart, you pulled away his hand as you reached behind and undid his pants with urgency, pulling down the offending item in a great hurry.

Letting out a throaty chuckle, Jake pushed you down onto the counter roughly, your ass in the air, bare for him to marvel and appreciate. With a low growl, he took himself in his hand and pumped himself before grinding along your slit, gathering the moisture. With a grunt, he plunged into you, burying himself inside you to the hilt.  You wailed as you felt him enter, the burn a welcome feeling. He pulled out for a bit and thrust again, letting you absorb the feeling of fullness. Your soft moan turned him on following which, he let himself go. He began fucking you, really fucking you, with abandon. Your nipples pebbled against the cold counter, in contrast to the heat that was spreading within you, emanating from your core. 

Pulling your arm, Jake doubled his speed by using your appendage as traction, his thighs squeezing yours, causing your walls to grasp him even tighter. He groaned, rasping, “Wanted to fuck you on your table since yesterday, princess. Seeing you bend around and lick ​chocolate from those delectable fingers got me so fuckin’ hard, gorgeous.” Thrusting harder, he elicited a whimper from you as he pulled you upright, whispering in your ear, ordering you to come for him.

And with that, you were a goner. You came so hard, you saw stars burst behind your eyelids as you screamed his name for the world to hear. He shouted a few moments later, his release coating your walls, every last drop inside you. You both fell forward, knocking down the bowl. Jake raised his head after a few moments, dropping a kiss on your shoulder, “This crème brulèe was wayyyy better than Julian’s, but I’d like to check if you’ve thoroughly understood the method.”, pulling you to the floor for your next lesson.

Tagging: @donutloverxo @gotnofucks @imdarkinme @worksby-d @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @chris-butt @patzammit @chrissquares @a-little-counter-esperanto @starlightcrystalline @jbreenr @readermia @harrysthiccthighss @ozarkthedog @tenaciousperfectionunknown @savior-adriana @whosmarisaaarw @melli0112

[deascheck]

Finding Prince Charming

Summary: Reader is captured by a werewolf and then rescued by Sam and Dean, who she’d never met before.

Word Count: 3495

Pairings: developing Sam x Reader

Warnings: decent amount of angst, violence, a death, description of injuries… I think that’s it? AND FLUFF

A/N: Would love feedback.. Please let me know what you think. I don’t write often, so however I can make my writing better, I’d love to try! Also, I didn’t really research any medical stuff, so if there are inaccuracies, I apologize! This is also un-beta'ed, so sorry for any mistakes!

You were running. You didn’t know how far you’d gone or how long you’d been going, but you were too scared to stop. Over your labored breaths, you could hear hoarse growls coming from behind you.

As your feet pounded the ground, your arms pumping, you risked a glance behind you. As you turned your head, your hair flopped across your face. Panicked, you brushed at it with your hand. The thing you were running from was several yards behind you, but, unfortunately, was still there.

You didn’t know exactly what it was, but you knew it had started out looking like a ridiculously attractive man. The man had approached you at the bar and offered to buy you a drink. He’d introduced himself as Tristan. Tall, tan, white teeth, hair that was ruffled as if it was sex hair, and a broad chest just made for cuddling against. Of course you didn’t say no. Being single and looking for a fun night, you’d commenced your usual flirtations.

You didn’t realize he wasn’t a human until you had headed for the car with him, and you saw his reflection in the side-view mirror. Tristan heard your gasp and had apparently decided to hell with it, because he lunged as a fanged, clawed non-human. So you did the first thing you could think of, which was to pepper spray him and run. You mentally thanked the Lord that you’d worn flat boots.

The pepper spray had given you a big enough lead that he hadn’t caught you yet – apparently he wasn’t very fast – but you didn’t know how to get rid of him. He was too close for you to ditch.

You ran past a closed Starbucks, and then realized where you were. There was a 24/7 Walgreens store just a block away. If you could get that far, you’d be safe. Energy renewed, you pumped your arms faster, spurring your deadening legs to move more quickly.

The buildings on the block blurred as your speed and desperation increased. You hadn’t heard a growl since you’d checked over your shoulder, and you didn’t dare check again. The Walgreens came into view and you almost cried with relief.

As you closed the distance between you and the door to a few yards, you felt something massive grip your bicep tightly from behind, and yank you backwards. Before you could scream for help, you felt a searing pain in the back of your head and all went black.

When you came to, you were tied to a chair in a dank, dark room. It smelled like dead fish, and you couldn’t help but gag at the initial smell. You hear a chuckle come from across the room. Your eyes weren’t adjusting fast enough, so you squinted, trying to get a better look at thing that chuckled. It was the Tristan-monster.

“Tristan? What are you? Cause dude, you fugly.*” You did your best not to draw back into the chair when he stood up abruptly and stalked towards you. Thrusting your chin forward defiantly, you said rudely, “Why am I here? Cause if you kill me, I’m gonna be pissed. And then I’ll come back and haunt your ass.”

Tristan sank to his knees in front of you, allowing you to look straight at him instead of straight up. He spoke for the first time with his fangs and claws out, and said, “Y/N, why did you run? You made things so much more complicated for yourself.” Tristan’s voice was gravelly and deep, and held a hint of frustration and disappointment.

“Why did I run?! Oh let me think for a second.. Maybe because I saw a massive, sharp-toothed monster in my car’s mirror? It’s called self-preservation, genius.” You rolled your eyes at him, wondering if he was genuinely surprised or just being a tool.

Tristan growled when you called him a monster, and his claws elongated as he stared angrily at you. Your eyes widened and you could do nothing but watch as he pulled his arm back to rip you a new one – quite literally.

You couldn’t help the scream that ripped itself from your throat as he swung at your shoulder. His claws tore through your muscle like it was water. All you could think about was the pain; the white hot, searing pain that raged in your shoulder.

Tears streamed down your face as you tried to curl yourself around your wound. But Tristan’s attack wasn’t finished. He swung at you again, his claws raking down your side leaving deep oozing gashes. Your macho attitude officially snuffed out, you screamed again, shaking with pain.

The third hit left you fearing your ribs were laid bare. Your torso was in shreds. Tristan’s claws had rent from your collarbone all the way down to your shorts. Vaguely, you realized you were soaked in your own blood. Even as you tried to lean away from Tristan, you started to lose consciousness as the pain and blood loss began to take their toll.

However, no swing came. You heard three gunshots, and Tristan’s growls stopped. Moving your eyes to him, you saw him on the floor, blood spreading from his body. As darkness overtook you, you made out two tall shapes running towards you.

When you came to, all you saw was white. Were you in heaven? You raised your head an inch and looked around. You saw monitors and tubes, and then you heard bleeping. Nope. Not heaven. The hospital. In a chair next to your bed, you saw a man slumped, asleep. You had no idea who he was, so you took a moment to study him. He had long hair, for a guy. He had a bit of scruff, and was most certainly not hard to look at. He was in a red flannel shirt and dirty, ripped jeans. The circles under his eyes were dark, and you wondered how much he actually got to sleep.

As if he felt your eyes on him, he stirred and opened his eyes. You made eye contact and he immediately shifted to lean forward. He cleared his throat, and said, “Hey! Glad you’re awake. Doctors weren’t sure when you would wake up. How are you feeling?” His green eyes were gentle and inquisitive, and you found yourself getting lost in them.

Realizing you hadn’t answered the question, you quickly did a self-assessment and responded, “I’m fine, actually… I don’t feel much right now. Must be the pain meds. How did I get here? And sorry, who are you?” Your curiosity was eating you up.

“Oh! Sorry, I’m Sam. Me and my brother, Dean, we found you in the warehouse. We brought you here.” Sam blushed slightly, which you found surprisingly adorable.

“Hi Sam, I’m Y/N. I, uh… I don’t remember much after the Tristan-monster attacked me,- ” you stopped and closed your eyes briefly. You’d said Tristan-monster out loud. Sam was smiling widely when you opened your eyes, and through your embarrassment, you found it a very attractive smile. He had the cutest dimples you’d ever seen. You leaned your head back and groaned, “I can’t believe I actually said that.”

Sam’s smile turned into a laugh, but he took pity and said, “Hey, I’m not judging. It seems like an accurate assessment if Tristan was his name.”

His comment made you think of something. You tilted your head at him. “What on earth were you doing in that warehouse to begin with? No one in their right mind would go to a place that stank that badly of dead fish.”

Sam chuckled, managing to look slightly uncomfortable at the same time. He looked at you for a few seconds, chewing his bottom lip, as if he was internally debating what he should say. You decided to help him out, and said softly, “The truth would be nice, if that helps at all.”

He huffed quietly and cleared his throat again. “Well, Dean and I were looking for your Tristan-monster. He was a werewolf. We’d tracked him to the warehouse, when we heard you were in there too.” At this point, he looked away guiltily. “Nothing seemed out of control, so we didn’t want to rush in with our guns half cocked. But… turns out you were there, and that cost you. I’m sorry, Y/N.”

Your sympathy swelling, you reached out for his hand. Sam put his hand in yours, his thumb rubbing the back of your hand gently.

“It’s ok, Sam. Really. I got myself into that mess. Should have known someone that good looking and charming was too good to be true...” You trailed off bitterly.

Sam squeezed your hand. “Hey. Y/N. Look at me.” He waited until you dragged your eyes to him before continuing. “It’s not your fault. This happens to the best people for no good reason. It’s awful that Tristan picked you, but think about it this way. You made it. You survived. If you can get through that hell, you’ll make it through whatever life throws at you. And after shit like that, I hope life throws you everything good you could possibly want. Maybe you’ll even have your Prince Charming thrown at you.” Sam looked at you with soft eyes and you couldn’t help but melt a little.

You loved how sincere he was. You gave him a small smile. “Well, once I get out of here, maybe my good life will start with dinner with you.” You glanced at him shyly, not really regretting your inquiry.

Sam leaned forward slightly and said softly, “I think I’d like that. But you’ve got a long recovery ahead, Y/N. You had a real one over done on you.” His smile faded slightly as he thought about the extent of your injuries.

Before he could say anything, though, your stomach rumbled loud enough to be heard halfway across the world. You blushed deeply and quipped, “Before we talk about how much I got screwed up, is there any way I could have something to eat? I think my stomach wants to eat itself, it's so hungry.”

Your comment surprised a laugh out of Sam, and he let go of your hand and got to his feet. “Of course. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Still chuckling, he strode out of the room quickly.

A couple minutes after Sam left, a nurse bustled in. She was beautiful and young, but looked comfortable in her role; she’d been here a while.

She smiled warmly at you and said, “Hi honey, good to see you awake. I’m Laura, and I’m gonna check your bandages, ok?”

Something was warning you about her, but you shrugged it off, blaming your lack of trust on your trauma. “Ok, thanks Laura.”

She pulled some clean bandages out from a cabinet near your bed and started trying to make conversation. “You know, whoever gave you those lacerations really worked you over. We were worried we were going to lose you for a while there.”

You narrowed your eyes in confusion. “A while there? How long have I been here?”

Laura looked at you in surprise. “No one’s told you? You’ve been here for three days. Two men who found you brought you in. You have a severe concussion, your shoulder muscle was ripped to shreds, and sweetheart, I won’t even go into how bad the wound on your chest and stomach was. Let’s just say after surgery and a lot of stitches later, you were stabilized.”

You weren’t sure how to react. You knew Tristan had practically killed you, but hearing it voiced was scary. And three days? Holy hell. He must have hit you upside the head a lot harder than you thought. Laura’s hands moving to your bandages brought you back to reality. You almost didn’t want to look while she prepared to change them.

As she pulled the bandages back, you hissed through your teeth. Thank God you were on serious pain medication, because the wounds looked like they would hurt like a mother. Stitches and staples were all over your torso. Your left shoulder had so many staples you were surprised there was still skin showing. The gashes from your collarbone to your hips were stitched and stapled, but they were terrifying. You knew they were all going to scar.

A sharp prick redirected your attention to Laura. She was no longer smiling, and she stared down at you with a mixture of disgust and smugness on her face. You looked at her, confusion all over your face. “What did you just inject me with?” you asked, trying not to panic. Laura tossed away the syringe, and sneered at you. “You think you can get away with killing my mate? His stench is all over you. Did you honestly think he was alone? He was my world and you took him from me!” Her lip curled in anger as her eyes filled with hate.

“I just injected you with poison,” Laura continued, hate in her voice. “An injection of this particular type will give you a nice, long, slow death. I didn’t do enough to kill you, though. Oh no. I’m going to drag this out. You’re going to suffer for taking Tristan from me!” Laura’s hair had started to fall out of its bun from the angry shakes that racked her body.

As she watched you, you felt a pain in your chest. You gasped at the sharpness of it. You started to curl, but found it hurt more because of your injuries. The pain centered on your heart, and you arched your back slightly. You were too weak to do anything more than moan in agony.

As it faded, Laura shot you with the syringe again. You shook your head, desperate for the pain to stop. “Please, stop…” you gasp. “Please. I didn’t kill Tristan!” Tears rolled down your cheeks as your clenched your eyes shut in pain.

Suddenly, a familiar voice yelled, “Hey! Drop the syringe!”

Your red-rimmed eyes snapped open and you saw Sam drop a bag of food as he launched himself at Laura.

It was clear Sam knew how to fight. He easily overpowered Laura and as he knelt on her back, he pulled a knife from his boot. But Laura was too angry for Sam to hold for long. With a chilling growl, she morphed into a female version of the Tristan-monster - the werewolf- with the claws and fangs. Sam was thrown across the room against a wall of cabinets. Through your pain-hazed eyes, you saw his head snap back and contact the wall with a sharp crack.

Laura stalked toward him, her claws slowly extending. Sam, slumped on the ground, looked around for something to fight her off with. Panicked, your eyes swept the room, trying to help from your bed. You stop your sweep when you see the syringe on the floor not two feet from your bedside table.

Rolling your eyes, you knew you would regret what you were about to do. With a grunt, you let yourself fall out of bed. You made sure to land on your right side, but the impact still jarred you to your core. Your vision went dark for a second as you fought to stay conscious. You shook your head. Sam needed help. Grabbing the syringe, you hauled yourself to your feet and yelled weakly, “Sam!” and tossed the syringe.

His head spun in your direction and he caught the syringe right as Laura let loose a terrifying snarl and lunged at him. You screamed despite yourself as your view of Sam was blocked by Laura’s attack.

You heard Sam grunt and then Laura was shoved away from him. She staggered away, clutching her heart. Sam staggered to his feet, the syringe clutched tightly in his hand. He’d injected her in the heart. A full dose. Both of you watched warily as she yelled in pain, and then collapsed.

Sam felt for her pulse, and when he found none, he stumbled to you. He was bleeding from a shallow cut to his cheek, but he paid it no attention as he grabbed you. His hands ghosted over you, checking for further injury. You sobbed, losing any semblance of composure you had left.

“She injected me in the arm with that stuff,” you cried. “Twice! I’m so scared. It hurts so bad,” you moaned as you started to drop to the floor. Sam immediately called for a doctor as he caught you. A doctor must’ve been close, because one hurried into the room at Sam’s yell. Sam explained the nurse had injected you with poison, to which the doctor’s jaw dropped. He hurried out and returned a couple minutes later with a generic antidote and security. Dropping to his knees, he gently injected you and sat back, waiting to see what would happen. While he attended to you, security grabbed the nurse from the floor and carried her to another room, where she was placed in handcuffs and inspected. You later heard she was pronounced dead almost immediately.

Still holding you, Sam wrapped his arms around you, low enough so that he wouldn’t mess up your injuries further and pulled you onto the bed. Once there, you leaned against his chest and turned your head into the crook of his neck, tears leaking out of the corners of your eyes no matter how hard you tried to stop. The pain was slowing, a feeling of warmth chasing the pain through your body.

“It’s going away,” you mumbled. The doctor nodded and said, “I need to check your vitals to make sure you’re stable after that poison was injected. Let me have your good arm.” He wrapped a blood pressure cuff around your arm and took your blood pressure. It was a little high, but considering the trauma you’d been through, he accepted it. Grabbing a thermometer he ran it over your forehead and behind your ear. Your temperature was ok, coming down as the poison left your body. The doctor nodded to himself. “You seem stable. I’m going to let you two be for a while. I’ll be back to check on you in a little bit.”

The two of you stayed like that for a long time, and you eventually cried yourself to sleep. You woke to voices talking quietly. You could feel Sam’s voice rumbling deep in his chest and you found yourself thinking you could get used to feeling that.

Then the reality of your situation sank in, and your eyes flew open. You immediately saw a man sitting in the chair next to the bed. He was also in a flannel shirt and jeans. He had incredibly green eyes and he was deep in conversation with Sam. You flashed back to your conversation with Sam earlier. This must be Dean.

Dean’s eyes flickered to you as he talked and he realized you were awake. “Y/N!” he exclaimed. “Sam, she’s awake.” Dean held his hand out, “Hi, I’m Dean. I understand you helped save my little brother. Thank you!” He smiled at you, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

You took his hand shyly, smiling back. “I think you guys saved my ass first, and Sam here saved it again earlier… So I think tossing him a syringe is the least I could do.” You looked up at Sam and then again back at Dean. “Thank YOU. And thank you for getting me here. I would have died if not for you two.”

As you spoke, you snuggled deeper into Sam’s arms. Maybe you’d only met him that day, but you knew that you felt safe around him. Sam squeezed you gently in response, and you felt your hair move as he spoke next to your head.

“So, Y/N. You’re patched up enough that you can check out if you want to. And,” Sam hesitated briefly before he continued. “Well, we were wondering if you wanted to come with us. We have a place a couple hours from here where you can recuperate and get back to full strength.” You smiled as he talked, already knowing your answer. “Call us overprotective, but after that nurse went loco, we want to be able to keep an eye on you while you finish healing.”

You craned your head as far as you could and beamed up at him. “Sam, when you told me life would throw me my Prince Charming, I didn’t realize he’d already shown up.”

Sam gave you a big smile and pressed his lips to your forehead in a lingering kiss, giving you an unspoken vow that he would always be there. “I’m here for you, always.”

Your moment was interrupted by Dean clearing his throat. “Um, guys? Yeah, still here. Get a room. But first… Y/N. You don’t happen to have a sister do you?”

[msmarvelouswinchester]

Love In Sin

Chapter 8

Summary - Special Agent Winchester is forced to go undercover with his frenemy Special Agent L/N when they try to track down a notorious drug dealer. How will Y/N and Dean complete their task? Will their relationship worsen or will new feelings emerge between them?

Pairing - AU Detective!Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count - 1.5k

Series Warnings - Angst, Slow burn, Fluff, Implied Smut, Mentions of crime and drug, Swearing.

Chapter Warnings - Swearing, mentions of drug and prison

A/N - Sorry for the delay, guys. Thanks for being patient with me and thanks for all the feedback on the previous chapters!

Thanks to @deanwanddamons for beta'ing this (she is an absolute sweetheart)

Divider by @talesmaniac89 (do check her blog out, she is an excellent writer and does amazing edits)

Series Masterlist

You stared at the group of police officers standing outside your house, shock evident on your face.

“That can't be-what..there has to be a mistake,” you finally managed to croak.

“I’m sorry Mrs. Campbell, I don't think there has been any mistake.” The officer smirked and waved at one of his colleagues.

“There has to be a proof as to why you are arresting us,” Dean said firmly.

“I am very sure that we will have proof,” he reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper, “we have a warrant to search this place.”

“You can't just-”

“Mrs. Campbell.Did you organise a party yesterday at your house? We got information that suspicious activities were noticed during that party,” the cop said.

“Yeah we had a party, but we invited only our neighbours. That's not-”

“Mr. Campbell, I am asking you for the last time to let us do our job. If we find everything is normal, we will leave and apologise for the inconvenience caused, but we have a search warrant,” the cop said, once again waving the piece of paper, “ and there nothing unlawful about searching your house. Now, I would advise you to stand outside the house so as to not interfere with our operation.”

You nodded when you saw there was no other way to stop the cops. Two other officers guided you both outside the house and stood in close proximity, guarding you since you had acted in a not so friendly manner.

Dean stood beside you, his jaw set and his eyes cast downwards.

“What're ya thinking?” You whispered.

He looked up at you, his eyebrows knitted together, a deep frown etched on his face.

“Thinking about the case,” he replied shortly.

“I need to know more than that, Dean,” you huffed.

“What can I say? We are screwed!” he said, “even if Officer “I-have-a-search-warrant” doesn't find any drugs, our cover is blown, Y/N.”

“You two have a lot of answering to do,” the cop stepped out of your house with a plastic bag in his hands. Your jaw hit the ground. You noticed Dean was mirroring your actions. How did those drugs get into your house?

“We don't-”

“Save your answers for the court. Arrest them,” the officer ordered.

Immediately two cops came forward and started to put handcuffs on you both. Your mind was still reeling over what just happened. You barely acknowledged it when the cops shoved you into their car. You were still trying to process everything, trying to remember every tiny thing that happened in that party.

“Hey officer, can I ask you a question?” Dean asked.

“No.” The deep baritone of the officer resounded throughout the car.

“Okay.” Dean remarked and puckered his lips, thinking a little.

“Who was it that called you?” Dean asked again.

“I can't, or rather won't tell you,” the cop warned, “now shut your damn mouth.”

“No need to be rude, I thought we were vibing,” Dean said.

“What are you doing?” You whispered.

“Just being friendly,” he shrugged at you. You squeezed your eyes shut, taking a deep breath. You were already under so much pressure, and Dean wasn't making it any easier for you.

The police car came to a stop and the door on your side opened abruptly.

“Come out you two,” the cop barked out orders and you stepped out of the car, your hands still in cuffs but Dean was taking his sweet time to get out of the car. You rolled your eyes at his cockiness. The cop tapped his foot impatiently. Huffing, he reached out and grabbed Dean's arms, pulling him out of the car.

“Hey, hey no need to manhandle. This is a precious cargo, baby,” Dean smirked. You wanted to reach over and smack him on the head.

The cops shoved you into a cell. At least they put you together in one prison and told you that you get one phone call.

“So we don't exactly have a lawyer. I think we should call Mr. Singer,” you said, Dean nodding his head in agreement.

“You both are kidding me right? You want to make a call to one of the top tiers in the Bureau?” The cop laughed after you told him to whom you wanted to make a call.

“Yes.” You firmly stated

“Huh,” he had a mocking smile on his face, “shouldn't you call your lawyer? You really think that this federal agent can save you?”

“Yes because we are feds too. We were undercover on a mission and it was going really well until you arrested us and walked all over it,” Dean said in a hard tone.

“You expect me to believe you?” The cop had a smug smile on his face, “I have heard a lot of alibis but this one stands out - really original. Anyways, phone's yours. You get one phone call so I can't really refuse.”

You hurriedly dialed Bobby Singer's number and waited for it to ring.

“I hate him,” Dean exclaimed, “he is one cocky son of a bitch.”

“So kinda like you,” you said as a matter of fact. “Mr. Singer, it's Special Agent Y/L/N speaking,” you said into the phone when Bobby answered. Dean kept staring at you with a frown on his face, trying to read through the conversation you were having with Singer.

“Our phones have been confiscated….we got arrested..no! They found class A drugs with us….in the house….we don't know exactly, it can be possible….okay….both of us….sure, Sir,” you hung up the phone call after telling him the address of the police station you both were being kept.

“I see your phone call is done,” the cop said and guided you both towards your cell, “let's see if your federal agent shows up.”

“This is the worst thing to ever happen.” You exclaimed and started pacing around the small space inside the jail.

“You gotta stop pacing, sweetheart. We will figure it out,” Dean said.

“Really Dean? What is your plan?” You asked but he didn't say anything, “Exactly, we don't have a plan.”

“I am working on it,” he argued back.

“Hey you two, this is not a place for a couple’s fight. Save it for when you get out of here,” the cop guarding your prison cell warned.

“Yeah right. We’ll save it for when we get out of this shithole,” Dean turned towards you, “I promise we will get out of this mess.”

The next few hours were spent trying to figure out any possible way to prove yourselves innocent, but you both came up with zero ideas.

“So I guess we are back to square one, Y/L/N,” Dean said and leaned his head against the wall, closing his eyes.

“I am telling you Winchester, there is no way we are getting out of this. They caught us red handed for God's sake!” you exclaimed.

“No one's perfect. Neither is this person. There has to be a loose end and we have to find that,” he said, stretching his hands.

“What did you two idjits do?” Bobby Singer grumbled as he walked towards the prison cell accompanied by a cop. The latter started opening up the gate of the prison and went to get rid of your handcuffs.

“Ah it feels so good to finally be able to use your hands,” Dean said, “and no we didn't do anything. We were set up. This is all a set up.”

“I bailed you out,” you let out a sigh of relief at the words of your boss, “for now. We need to prove you both not guilty within one week. The court date is next week.” You both stepped out of the cell and started walking towards the main door.

“Well we only need to gather evidence and I am sure the bureau will-”

“No they won't. You are both suspended.” Bobby said and guided you towards the car.

“What?” You and Dean exclaimed together.

“The police caught you red handed. The bureau, no matter how good you are as a detective, they are not willing to keep you as agents anymore,” Bobby said, opening the door of the car.

“So what do we do now? We have no evidence, no resources,” you said.

“I know, but I will help you two to get out of this shit. I put you both in this situation, but first we are going back to the house. You will collect your belongings and we are getting out of Kansas,” Bobby said and started to drive the car back towards your house.

Let me know if you all want to tagged in this!

Feedback is highly appreciated!

[wolfantlersinspace]

Abstraction

"Day 6" fic.

Prompts: Horns, cock worship

Thanks Brie for beta'ing, thanks enablers for helping me out with my demon dick~ love you all!

Harry Potter, Tom Riddle | NC-17 | 1843 words

Harry shifted at the sudden tightness in his pants, eyes looking anywhere but Voldemort’s reptilian, unattractive (unbelievably appealing) face. He didn’t know what to do — he hadn’t really prepared for what would happen if it did work.

“I’m sorry to bother you, I just wanted to try out a spell I found. I don’t actually have any enemies—”

“I summon thee,” Harry spoke as clearly as possible, trying to keep the wobble from his lips. This wording was ridiculous, like a hoax or a joke. “To bringeth on myself the power to defeat mine enemies.”

One second past, then ten, thirty. Of course it was fake. The wording alone should’ve been enough warning. He closed his eyes, stretching his arms as far above his head as he could, yawn on his lips. He hadn’t slept well last night, and it was already showing. If only Aunt Petunia didn’t make him get up at the crack of dawn… He allowed himself a wistful sigh at the thought.

He hated it at the Dursleys, but he also knew they were the only family he had left, the last step before homelessness — as he’d been threatened with many times before. Sometimes he fantasised about running away or getting his own apartment in London, but they could never be anything more than distant dreams with the way the Dursleys acted. They wouldn’t let Harry leave despite how much they hated his guts. However, there was hope in a jar under a loose floorboard, lid screwed on as tightly as possible. Hundreds of pounds rolled up tightly, all the money he’d found in the streets or the schoolyard over the last eighteen years.

“Fascinating.”

The voice was cold and high, startling as it broke through the silence. Harry whirled around, eyes wide.

There he was, in all his serpentine glory. Lord Voldemort. His slitted red eyes watched Harry curiously, his pupils engorging as he raked his eyes down Harry's body. Harry flushed, wishing he could curl his body away from that all-seeing gaze. He thought Voldemort would be able to see right through him anyway, no matter what he did. He watched, transfixed, as Voldemort’s tongue — slitted, oh God — darted out to wet his lips, eyelids lowered temptingly, tauntingly.

Harry shifted at the sudden tightness in his pants, eyes looking anywhere but Voldemort’s reptilian, unattractive (unbelievably appealing) face. He didn’t know what to do — he hadn’t really prepared for what would happen if it did work.

“I’m sorry to bother you, I just wanted to try out a spell I found. I don’t actually have any enemies—”

“You do have enemies, boy, or the summon wouldn’t work.”

“I—” Harry flew through the air, coming to a stop at Voldemort’s feet. “What?”

“Hm,” Voldemort said consideringly, ignoring Harry’s question like he’d never vocalised it in the first place, and smiled. His sharp canines showed, and Harry couldn’t help but gulp. “You’ll do fine.”

“What?”

“You talk too much.” With a wave of Voldemort’s hand, a strange, silky ribbon fitted itself around Harry’s head, a thick knot slipping into the crease of his mouth and forcing his teeth apart. Voldemort had the audacity—

It really shouldn’t arouse him this much. But here he was, lying at a near all-powerful being’s feet, gagged and aching for him.

“I will deal with your enemies for you, but I don’t want your soul. I already had it, didn’t I?” Voldemort’s fangs gleamed. “I wouldn’t be in this form otherwise.”

It was true, Harry was very gay and very proud of it, despite the Dursleys trying to “stamp it out of him”. Destined for Hell, they called him. Apparently, they were right.

However, he didn’t understand what Voldemort meant by his last comment. Maybe he appeared in the form that would attract the summoner the most? That sounded like a stretch, even to Harry. He wished he could ask, but the ribbon stopped him, beyond garbled sounds.

“I want something else from you.” Voldemort paused dramatically. Harry tensed, worried. Would this be some awful deal, like his firstborn, or his life? “Your virginity.”

Oh. Oh, this was—

His breath shot out of his lungs.

Even if he wasn’t too happy about Voldemort killing the Dursley’s, he couldn’t think of a better way to lose his virginity. Voldemort was a demon, ancient and powerful — he’d certainly know more than Harry did.

He froze as Voldemort parted his robes, eyes shooting down to the bulge hidden in his pants. He hardly noticed the way he moved closer, holding his breath as he watched it get closer and closer to his eyes, his hands, his mouth. A couple of buttons were all that kept Harry from seeing what he held, and soon they were gone too.

Harry didn’t even notice the gag disappearing, gasping as he sank to his knees and salivating as he stared at the cock in front of him. It was huge, at least the size of Harry’s forearm (though he could admit that wasn’t… unrealistically sized — he was rather short), and thick, and underneath had small fleshy bumps. The head had a ring of those curious protrusions as well, angled downwards like an upside-down crown. He wanted to weave his tongue between them, to feel them against his tongue, to—

The realisation that he could do that, he could touch it and taste it made his head spin. He looked up, meeting Voldemort’s impatient slitted eyes and leaned forward, determined to take it all.

The cock was smooth against his tongue and those little spikes bent slightly when he reached them, not sharp like he’d imagined. He couldn’t take Voldemort’s cock very deep, sinking only a few inches before he had to stop, choking a bit. He wasn’t very sure what to do, but Voldemort’s hand landed on Harry’s head, curling through his hair and gently coaxing him down again, filling his mouth once more. He bobbed his head carefully, wiggling his tongue against the weight filling his mouth and Voldemort rewarded him with a groan, hand tightening.

Voldemort carefully eased Harry’s head down, further and further until he hit the back of his throat and he couldn’t take any more without gagging.

“Relax,” Voldemort said and he did. The next bob of his head had the tip of Voldemort’s cock slipping further than before, breaking past the seal of his mouth and into his throat. His eyes widened, and he almost pulled back to exclaim over it, but Voldemort held him firmly in place. He tried not to struggle, but he couldn’t breathe and suddenly he was choking—

Voldemort pushed him back and he swallowed desperately, his throat thick and strange. He gasped for breath and Voldemort watched him, clearly displeased.

“I’m sorry,” Harry choked out and blinked at the rasp in his voice. He sounded wrecked, like he’d been absolutely destroyed and not just held Voldemort’s monstrous cock in his throat for a few seconds.

Voldemort looked particularly satisfied at his state, said, “Make it up to me then, boy.”

Harry darted forward once more, running his tongue over the head, curling the tip around the weird spines. They seemed more sensitive than everything else and Harry took the cock deep into his mouth to the chorus of Voldemort’s heavy, hitched breaths. He didn’t know if he could take it into his throat again but he tried, pressing it so deep he almost choked and had to pull away, eyes welled with tears. But he kept working at it, stubborn enough that Voldemort helped him out, subtle magic tingling at Harry’s throat.

When it slipped back into his throat he didn’t panic, didn’t swallow around it and carefully held his breath as best as he could. He bobbed his head, not letting it escape from the depths of his throat, slowly sliding down to take more. He wondered if it showed, the massive cock bulging his throat like he imagined it did. His cock stiffened in his pants.

Voldemort thrust slowly, staying in Harry’s throat. Tears flowed freely down his cheeks as Voldemort finally reached as far as he could go, Harry’s nose pressing against his hard pelvis. There was something so dehumanising about it, about Voldemort grabbing Harry’s hair and moving his head back and forth on the monstrous shaft. The soft spikes rubbed his tongue in such a strange way he wasn’t sure whether to be aroused or weirded out.

Arousal won out easily and Harry pressed a hand to his clothed cock, longing to relieve the pressure as Voldemort started fucking his face harder and harder. Spit drooled down his chin, tongue moving as best as it could against the sheer thickness of the shaft this far down. He loved it, he could admit that much, being turned into a mess for it. He wanted to be a mess for Voldemort, for his cock.

It wasn’t long until Voldemort was pulling Harry’s head along his cock like a human sex toy, using his face for his own pleasure. He slammed in, holding Harry as deep as he could until he shook from the lack of air, and Voldemort groaned as Harry pushed at his legs, trying to catch his breath.

“You can take it.” Harry wished he could shake his head, because no, no he couldn’t. But he did, despite the lack of air. Voldemort pulled away when he became lightheaded and he swallowed, finally emptying his mouth of the excess saliva. He swiped at his eyes, brushing away the streaming tears and Voldemort held himself out again, clearly waiting for Harry to hurry up. He wiped his mouth and steadied his breathing.

He could do this, he could take it. He had before.

Harry clenched his fists and took the tip into his mouth again, licking the slit, tasting the pre-come beading there. He kissed up the shaft, teasing licks along the ridge of bumps along the bottom. He flicked his eyes up, meeting blown black pupils and slid the length into his mouth, letting Voldemort take control again, fucking into his throat with ease. He held his breath as best as he could, eyes welling up once more.

It didn’t take Voldemort long until he was close, hips stuttering and breathy moans slipping out of his lips. Suddenly, Voldemort pulled out until only the tip remained in Harry’s mouth, ignoring his hoarse whine at the loss. It twitched and come burst onto his tongue, warm and strangely textured. He swallowed, but more kept coming, spurt after spurt landing on his tongue. It gathered thick in his throat and he couldn’t swallow any more, letting it dribble down his chin. Voldemort pulled out entirely, jerking himself as he finished, warm spunk landing on Harry’s face.

He wanted it back in him, he wanted it inside his throat, his arse. He whined again but Voldemort smiled, his teeth poking over his lip. He knelt in front of Harry, and he was struck at just how dangerous Voldemort was; he could kill Harry right where he sat with hardly a flick of the wrist. And yet, Harry wanted it, wanted him.

Hermione had always called him a bit of an adrenaline junkie, but this really solidified it.

“No, I think it’s time for the main course.” Voldemort trailed off, and Harry’s palms moistened, fingers slipping against the button of his jeans in his eagerness.

He couldn’t wait.

[olicitysecretsanta]

Dear Sammy @captainsammyangel​​ ,

When I got my assignment, I was super thrilled because I ADORE the tale of the nutcracker. I struggled to figure out how to do it with the limited time I had because you're right, the plot isn't easy to work out, and I'm a slow writer so the fic couldn't be too long or it wouldn't have been ready in time. This might not be what you fully expect but, hopefully, it will fulfill all your requests. 

If not, I propose combining our efforts and do together a Nutcracker AU for Christmas 2020. That way we could have plenty of time to figure things out and write it without a rush. 

For this fic, you should know that Oliver and Felicity are a little older than in the show, they've been married for many years, and William is the biological son of both.

I hope that you had a great holiday and that 2020 brings you love, health, and prosperity.

XO

Mare @green-arrows-of-karamel​

PS: this wasn't beta'ed so all mistakes are mine and mine alone 😝

THE UNTOLD TRUTH OF THE NUTCRACKER

On the morning of December 25, the weak winter sun is barely visible on the horizon. Despite the early hour, in the Smoak household, there is already joyful activity going on. It cannot be another way since this day has a remarkable meaning for the family, more than for any other. It's Christmas Day but also the fourth night of Hanukkah, and there's one more reason, too.

The happy giggles of 4-year-old Mia reach her parents' bedroom. Felicity smiles, lying on the bed and using her husband's chest as a pillow. Oliver chuckles when the voice of their 14-year-old son, William, begs his sister to be quiet, to wait for mom and dad. 

"I think Mia just found that Santa came last night," Oliver murmurs.

"Probably," Felicity chuckles.

"We should get up before she opens the presents. I don't think William can dissuade her not to for long."

Felicity smirks at Oliver's true words. William is great and has never-ending patience with her little sister. He couldn't be a better older brother. Nonetheless, William also spoils her rotten and Mia has excellent argumentative skills to which he can't —or won't— fight against. When William is in charge, what Mia wants, Mia gets. Only Felicity and Oliver are able to reign their daughter's whims.

"That would be on you, my love," Felicity teases, tilting her head up to look at her husband's face. "Our daughter inherited your stubbornness," she grins when Oliver narrows his eyes slightly, affronted. Diverting his comeback, Felicity moves to do something that will distract him for sure. 

"And before we get up…"

Felicity leans up on an elbow and hovers her face close to Oliver's, their mouths almost touching. She has been married to Oliver over a decade and a half and, still, her heart beats faster when they are this close. The intense gaze of his eyes, full of love and desire, let her know that he feels the same. The closeness is almost unbearable.

"I forgot to tell you… Happy anniversary," she whispers before nibbling Oliver's lower lip. 

It works like a charm. Whatever he was going to say to her is instantly forgotten. Oliver moans and puts a hand on the back of her nape as he deepens the kiss. He brushes his tongue against her lips, coaxing them to grant him access. When Felicity parts them, Oliver explores her mouth with ardor. The erotic dance of their tongues reminds Felicity of the way Oliver so often makes love to her, just the way he did a handful of minutes ago. A choreography that goes from languid, enthralling moves to an upbeat dancing, one that transports them both to the highest peak of ecstasy.

This morning, however, their journey to ultimate bliss for a second time comes to an abrupt end. A shrilly complaint coming from downstairs jolts them apart with a unison groan. 

"Later?" Oliver asks in a low, husky voice. More than a question, it's a promise.

A promise that melts Felicity on the inside and heats up the blood in her veins. "Later," she vows.

After their morning ablutions, Oliver and Felicity go downstairs and find Mia with a tragic, but absolutely cute, expression on her face. Obviously, she's put out at her brother's refusal to let her open the presents. For his part, William sags on the couch relieved, as he watches mom and dad coming down the stairs.

"Good morning, mom! Merry Christmas, dad!" he says. 

"Mommy! Daddy!" Mia yells and sprints toward them, her blonde curls bouncing at the upbeat pace of her small feet. Without missing a beat, she launches herself to Oliver's waiting arms. After wrapping her arm around his neck and her legs around his waist,  holding herself tight to him, Mia twists in her father's embrace. She leans toward Felicity to hug her just as tight.

"Mommy, can I open the presents now, please, please, please, pleeeease?!"

"Of course, baby. Let's see what Santa brought you."

The girl squirms out of Oliver's arms and lets out an excited screech as she runs toward the tree. The shrill sound undeniably tells that Mia is her grandmother's grandkid. Only Donna and Mia can produce such a sound. 

Half an hour later, the living room is littered with toys, new clothes, and other gifts in a sea of ripped wrapping papers. Apparently, everyone was on Santa's good list this year. 

 "There's one more," William announces mysteriously, straightening up from his crouch by the tree. He has a 3-for-4-inch box on his hand. "This is from me to Mia."

She gasps, her eyes bright with emotion. "Thanks, Will!"

Mia wastes the minimum time to hug her big brother before ripping the package open with an almost-indecent voracity.

"Aww, I love it!" 

William smiles, pleased that he chose the gift well, looking at Mia. He misses the surprised glance shared by his parents. Neither Felicity nor Oliver dare to say what they're thinking. Felicity can see in her husband's eyes the same dumbstruck disbelief that she feels watching the plushy nutcracker that William gifted her sister.

It has to be a coincidence, Felicity thinks. Oliver shrugs almost imperceptibly as if he'd picked up her thoughts. 

There's something the kids ignore about their dad, something about his previous life. He had hoped to tell them when they are older.

Both Felicity and Oliver have to shake their semi-panicked state away when Mia plops herself between them on the couch. "Daddy, can we eat choco-pancakes for breakfast?"

"Of course, kiddo. Why don't you and William go to the pantry and fetch what we need? I'll be right behind you."

"C'mon, Mia," William says, "I'll race you." 

Mia sprints after his brother with her new nutcracker in hand and Felicity warns, "Not running in the house!"

"Sorry, mom!" the kids chant in unison. Their steps slow down for a couple of seconds before they run off again, giggling.

Felicity sighs and lets their misbehavior pass, having more pressing matters to worry about. She turns to look at Oliver, biting her lower lip. "Do you think—" 

She pauses when her cell phone rings and, for a moment, hesitates to pick it up.

"It's your mom, answer it," Oliver prompts. "Talk to her while I'll go and make breakfast before the kids become the kitchen into a war zone. We'll talk later," he promises, his tone conveying the need for that conversation. 

Nodding, Felicity agrees, "Okay."

Their talk comes much later than what Felicity expects, though. Neither it happens in the way she imagined. After talking with her mother on the phone and eating breakfast, the kids insisted on having a snowball fight outside. Later, Oliver was busy making dinner for today's triple celebration: Christmas, Hanukkah, and their anniversary. 

Knowing that family and friends would be there soon, Felicity helped Mia to get ready. When the guests arrived, the afternoon went by in a blur, filled with joy and laughter. She loves her family and friends, to celebrate with them, but today she wished them to go home early. Her wish was not granted. 

Finally, after lighting the Menorah and having dinner, the guests go home with their bellies full of delicious food that Oliver made. They trooped out the house, everyone getting in their respective cars and driving away. Felicity is glad that the party is over. Once they clean the mess left behind, she and Oliver can talk alone.

First, Oliver goes to tuck sleepy Mia in her bed while Felicity clears the table with William's help. Now that she's alone with her son, it seems a good moment to find out if there's a particular reason why William bought a nutcracker of all things for his baby sister. Yet, Felicity hesitates. She wants to avoid making him suspicious about the gift or her curiosity. William, having inherited her brain, is too clever for his own good sometimes… or Felicity should say, for her sake.

The universe throws a small favor her way. William brings the topic on his own.

"Mia really liked my gift," he says, the grin on his lips telling how proud he is for such a feat.

That's an understatement. Mia loved the doll. She didn't put it down all day long, not for even a second.

"She did. Good call in choosing that for her." 

Felicity hopes that William doesn't pick up the half-lie. She can't deny that her heart swells with a warm feeling when her children strengthen their fraternal love with moments like that. But neither can she overlook how William's sweet gesture skirts too close on a family secret. Maybe it's time for her and Oliver to be honest with their eldest.

"Where did you buy it?" she asks with a nonchalance she doesn't feel.

"In a little store on Seventh Street. It sells hand-made toys. Mr. Drosselmeyer, the owner is a nice guy."

Frak! Felicity's stomach drops to the floor and her cheeks lose color. With Drosselmeyer involved, this is definitely not a coincidence. The dishes that Felicity is holding in her hands rattle as she trembles, just thinking about what this could mean for her and Oliver, for Mia and William.

"Mom, you okay?"

"I'm fine, sweetie." Felicity puts her load in the dishwasher and turns to face her son with what she hopes is a convincing smile. 

It's not. 

William approaches her, with an inquisitive glance so like his father's. One that means he won't be distracted from what he wants to know. "What's up with you, mom? You've been odd all day."

"Have I?"

Oh, crap! And Felicity had thought she had fooled him like she did everybody else.

"Yes!" William emphasizes. "You and dad. Both have been weird today. Are you guys fighting?"

"What? No! Of course not."

"Then, what is it?"

Oliver chooses that moment to reappear in the kitchen. He's prattling about something cute Mia said but he trails off when looks at Felicity and William. His brow creases. "Something wrong?" 

At the same time that Felicity utters a negative, William says, "Yes. I wanna know what's going on between you and mom."

"Between Felicity and I?" Oliver looks at her seeking an explanation but all that Felicity can do is trying to swallow the lump in her throat. Her husband shifts his gaze back to their son. "What do you mean?"

"Both of you have been acting strange today and I want to know why."

Oliver opens his mouth, then he closes it, lost for words. Felicity knows the conflict he's having because it's the same she feels squeezing her chest.

"I think it's time to tell him, Oliver," she croaks. "He's old enough."

William turns sharply to face Felicity, then Oliver. "Tell me what?" his voice is spiked with dread.

Oliver exchanges a glance with Felicity. His eyes are heavy with a mix of worry and wariness.

She can tell that he has doubts about telling the truth, but when she nods wordlessly, he heaves a resigned sigh.

"Tell me what?" William repeats, this time with less dread and more impatience.

"Let's have a seat, okay?"

William gives them a testy look but moves over the kitchen table and sinks into his usual seat. Oliver reaches out for Felicity's hand and both walk toward the table.

"You know that your dad and I first met this day many years ago, right?" Felicity starts as she sits down next to her husband.

"I know that. That's why you got married on this date too."

"Right," Oliver confirms. 

"But we've always implied, to you and everyone else, that we met a year before we became husband and wife."

"You didn't." It's phrased as a statement but there's a hint of uncertainty in Williams's voice.

"The truth is, son, that we met many, many years before."

"Since I was about eight," Felicity clarifies. 

William's brow furrows. "You've known each other for a longer time, so what? Why keep that as a secret?"

"Because no one would believe us if we told the truth about how we met."

"I don't understand."

"I think you need to hear the story from the beginning," Felicity says before launching herself to relate what happened so many winters ago. 

She tells her son that by the end of the year when she was eight years old, just a few months after her father abandoned her and her mother, Felicity passed by a toy store nearby the shabby small apartment she shared with her mother. She was feeling down because she hadn't gotten a present for Hanukkah. By the Jewish tradition, only sometimes small children get gifts and, now she knew, also her mother had struggled with money to keep a roof over their heads. 

Felicity had stared at the store's window, marveled by the toys in it. A particular item drew her attention above the rest. It was a wooden soldier nutcracker.

"An irony, really," she says, "since I'm allergic to nuts. I didn't know why but I couldn't stop watching the soldier."

"So what happened?"

"I met the toymaker and owner of the shop. He saw me outside and came to talk to me. Mr. Drosselmeyer was nice to me and told me I could take the wooden toy home."

The recognition of the name hit William hard, his eyes widen like saucers. "Mr. Drosselmeyer? Could be he the same that I—"

"Drosselmeyer?" Oliver interrupts William, nonplussed. "What does he got to do with you?"

"He sold the toy to William," Felicity explains. 

"But why? He told us that the spell was broken." Oliver's face contorts with fury but, behind that, there's a deep concern. "Don't you think—" Oliver shifts his gaze from Felicity to William, his eyes darkening when his concern turns into bone-freezing dread. "What does this mean?"

"I don't know," Felicity answers quietly, squeezing her husband's hand. "We'll figure it out but, first, let's tell William everything."

"Yes, please, because I'm understanding nothing of what you're saying. Dad, you said spell… as in magic? Magic doesn't exist!"

"Yes, it does," Oliver affirms in a tone that rings with absolute truth.

Felicity reaches for her son's hand. "It really does, sweetie. I wouldn't believe it myself if I hadn't seen with my own eyes how after I took the toy home it became of flesh and bones. I was sleeping when a bright light woke me up. 

"There was a soldier— well, more like a prince," Felicity corrects herself, feeling as a secret smile finds its way to her lips. "There he was, standing where I had put the nutcracker. He was dressed exactly as the toy had been. I couldn't believe what I was seeing." 

William watches her and Oliver as if they're crazy. An understandable reaction but it makes Felicity doubt if she and Oliver did the right thing in telling William the truth.

"I know it's hard to believe, William, but it is true. It did happen. All of the sudden, my bedroom became a battlefield when a platoon of mouse invaded it and Oliver fought them with the help of my other toys."

"I was almost defeated," Oliver grumbles.

"But you weren't. Although I must confess that my shoe hitting the Mouse King in the head was a lucky shot."

Oliver smiles as he lifts Felicity's hand to his lips. "Lucky or not, you save me." Then, he leans forward to kiss her.

"Could you not- ugh!"

Felicity and Oliver break the kiss and turn to look at their son, identical amused smirks forming on their lips. William becomes a little uncomfortable when they show a little too much of what he calls "unnecessary public display of affection".

"Anyway," Felicity continues, composing herself, "the Mouse King and his troops retreated but Oliver needed to follow them because now his home realm was in danger. I want to help so I went with him.

"To make the long story short, we traveled through different fantastic realms until we battled and defeated the Mouse King."

"Then when the adventure ended, I brought your mother back home."

"I was sad that he was leaving so he promised me that he would be back,"

"And I always keep my promises."

"But did you have to make your visits so far in between?" Felicity teases with no real criticism in her voice.

Oliver smirks. "You know I was only able to become human once every year for one day."

Felicity twists her lips. "True." Then she explains to William, "He came back every Christmas Day for over a decade. Each time, I went to his realm to have more adventures. Every year it was harder to say goodbye. I know we spent barely a day together every year but our short time in each other's company was enough for our friendship to grow. 

"I don't know when was the year, the moment when my feelings for him changed. As I grew I loved him as a friend but I wanted more."

"I spent years, aching to see Felicity again and again, even if it was for a day at the time. All I did was think about her. Until seventeen years ago, when I plucked up the courage and kissed her… just before the clock struck midnight."

"I was sure that when I opened my eyes he would no longer be there. My heart broke. But when the clock chimes came and went and I could still feel him hugging me, hope flooded in me."

"I remember the screech you made when you opened your eyes and saw that I was there."

Felicity glares fiercely at Oliver. "I do not screech… ever."

Oliver's lips twitch slightly as if he's fighting a smile. "No, hon. You don't."

Felicity harrumphs, knowing that Oliver says that just to pacify her.

Felicity harrumphs, knowing that Oliver says that just to pacify her.

"You're actually telling the truth," a sliver of hope to be mistaken lingers in William's voice.

"It's crazy, impossible, yet true. Your father used to be a nutcracker."

"And what's that of Mr. Drosselmeyer telling you about the- them-magic?" William stutters, barely managing to get the words out.

"After that Christmas when your mother and I kissed, one day we ran into him on the street. As we spoke, he hinted at that he knew what would happen if I found love here. He told me that only a true love kiss could break the spell that had me trapped in the other realm. That now I could live happily ever after."

"So if everything turned out okay, why do I get the feeling that you are worried about me?" William asks, trying to show he's at ease, but Felicity knows him. She can tell that he's worried.

He's not the only one.

Oliver holds his gaze into William's and takes a deep breath before answering him, "The spell I broke had been tied to my family forever. My father and his father and grandfather before him also had their chance to become men of flesh and bone but I guess they never found true love here. 

"The fact that Drosselmeyer has popped back into our lives makes me nervous. He told me that my children wouldn't be under the spell, but I don't know. I want you to have a happy, normal life, Will."

Father and son look at each other for a moment before Oliver prompts in a voice heavy with emotion, "Come here."

William is out of the chair in a second and in the security of his father's embrace the next.

When they pull apart, William says, "Now, I understand what Mr. Drosselmeyer told me. He said that the gift for Mia would mean a lot to her, that in the years to come it'll become the symbol of what love truly means and its great capacity to change destiny."

"Sounds like him," Oliver mutters.

"Maybe," Felicity approaches and speaks with hope flooding into her voice, "he just wanted to give us a sort of memento, something for our kids to know our true love story."

Oliver seems wary about it but says, "Maybe."

"We'll go tomorrow at his store and ask him, though."

"Good thinking."

"But now, let's pick up this mess and go to bed."

Standing outside of the house, a figure shrouded in a dark gray cloak looks at the family through the window. Hidden beneath his hood, the man smiles, reconciling the image of the woman inside with the girl with black piglets standing outside his store so many years ago. In his life as a toymaker, he had met many children but, when he met Felicity, he just knew she was the one who could save the nutcracker prince.

When their son had entered his store a few weeks ago, he couldn't resist the urge to suggest a soft nutcracker as the perfect gift for his sister. It was nothing but a reminder of the great things they had. 

A love like theirs came only once in a hundred lifetimes. 

Content after watching the love that they continue having as a family, Drosselmeyer walks away, slowly and with the weight of his years dragging him down. After a moment, his figure gets lost in the shadows.