#pick your poison fic challenge

[roosterforme]

Stateside | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley made a mistake last summer when he left for his deployment without ever asking you out, and then he thought about you a lot when he was gone. He was stateside again for less than a day when the other guys coerced him to help with a fundraiser at the Hard Deck. A friendly wager with the squad might not be the only thing he wins by the end of the night.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, drinking, swears

Length: 4500 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Check out my masterlist for more. Banner made by @thedroneranger Written for Pick Your Poison

Bradley had barely been stateside for twenty four hours when he woke up in his bed at noon to an array of texts arriving all at once. Five months on an aircraft carrier in the middle of the Pacific Ocean with nothing much going for him left him surprisingly exhausted. It wasn't that he didn't want to see his friends, he just needed a full day to himself to readjust. 

He groaned and rolled over after glancing at his phone and seeing the words Hard Deck in a message from Jake. He closed his eyes again after tossing his phone aside, but about ten seconds later, he cracked them open again. If there was one thing he had consistently thought about over the course of those five months, it was you. Your bright smile, your perfect laugh, your navy blue tee shirts that said The Hard Deck across the front.

When he reached for his phone and checked the message from Jake, he sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes. Maybe this could be an excuse to see you again sooner rather than later.

Hangman: Hey, we need you to come to the Hard Deck tonight. It's the annual charity event, and Bob can't make it. We're short a bartender. And don't try to bitch out of this, Phoenix told me you're home.

Bradley covered his face with his hand and thought long and hard about this. The real bartenders would be there to help which meant there was a chance you'd be one of them. If he volunteered for this, then maybe he'd find himself in close quarters with you for a few hours instead of the other Naval officers he'd been stuck with for months on end. Just the idea of accidentally bumping into you while pouring a beer had him texting Jake back.

Yeah, I'll be there.

Even though he was still pretty tired later in the afternoon, Bradley took a shower and then spent some extra time on his hair before dressing in his lucky shirt. That five month deployment was the reason he didn't ask you out during the summer, and now he was nervous to see you again. He had good intel from Penny that you'd been single the last time he saw you in August, but what if you had a boyfriend now? Or worse, what if you didn't even acknowledge him when you saw him?

He groaned as he looked in the bathroom mirror. Hours, possibly even days... that's how much time he'd had you on his mind while he was away. And for what? A crush on a girl who was probably too young for him? A cute bartender at the Navy hangout who definitely got asked out nightly? Shit. He was a lost cause. 

And now he was going to be late if he didn't leave right away. He grabbed his keys, and headed out to his Bronco which he had missed dearly. So if nothing else, he'd get to cruise around later after the event. But on the ride to the bar, all he could imagine was how you'd look in the passenger seat, smiling at him at every stoplight and singing along to the radio. 

"Fuck," he grunted as he parked next to Jake's truck before heading inside. He let his heart fill with hope as he strolled in to find Penny, Jake, Javy and Reuben behind the bar with two bartenders. But neither of them were you.

"Rooster!" Reuben cheered, and soon he was being clapped on the back and high fived by the guys he hadn't seen in months. It was nice, but he couldn't help but think that his smile would have been more genuine if you were here.

Jake smirked. "So glad you left your perch and joined us."

Bradley laughed as he gave Penny a hug. "Come on, man, I literally just got home."

Penny smiled up at him. "Thanks for filling in. It'll be great." Bradley really wanted to ask her about you, but then Penny patted him on the cheek before turning to reach under the bar top. "This will be a breeze for you guys," she said, handing matching shirts to the four of them. "Just a basic bar menu tonight. No super fancy cocktails. Just beer, wine, some pre-made sangria, and a few different kinds of shots."

Bradley started to unbutton his lucky shirt before pulling the new one on in its place. He smoothed his hand along the front of the blue shirt that said THE HARD DECK FIGHTS CANCER, and he noticed the two bartenders glancing at him. They were both cute but decidedly not what he had been hoping for tonight. 

"Hey," he asked them with a nod. They smiled in response, so he decided to just go ahead and ask them about you.

"She quit a few weeks ago," the first one told him. "After she graduated from law school."

"She moved, too," said the second one. "Left San Diego."

Shit. He was too late after all, nodding in response to them as he pressed his lips together in a firm line. He'd never been any good at this kind of thing, which was why he always fell into casual relationships. What should he have done? Asked you out, gone on a handful of dates and then tried to persuade you to wait five months for him? Just for him to get deployed over and over again? That wouldn't have been fair to you.

But he didn't feel like it was fair to him either, because right now he was having a hard time even remembering exactly how pretty you were and the precise tone of your laughter. Probably for the best. At least he only needed to do this event for a few hours before he could leave and go for a long drive. He swallowed down his disappointment and turned toward the guys who were in the middle of conversation. 

"How about a side wager?" Javy asked, tossing a bottle of vodka up into the air and catching it over and over again. "You know, for the charity?"

"What did you have in mind?" Bradley asked as Penny went to peek outside. "Because I doubt Penny will let us strip for charity again after last year. The two of you scuffed up the bar top," Bradley added, gesturing at Jake as well.

They both started laughing like idiots before Jake said, "Nah, let's give Penny a break this year and just tally up our tips at the end of the night. Whoever donates the least amount of tip money to the charity is the loser."

"Oh, that's a great idea," Javy said as he ate the orange slices and cherries that were meant to garnish the drinks. "What's the punishment for losing?"

Reuben smirked and said, "Loser has to report to the tarmac on Monday in his underwear. Instant push ups from Mav."

"Deal," Jake said.

"Absolutely," Javy agreed.

Three pairs of eyes settled on Bradley, and he slowly said, "Okay." If he strolled out of the locker room in just his underwear and boots on his first day back from a long deployment when he was supposed to sit down with the admirals and Maverick and have a debrief, he'd probably earn a greater punishment than just a few push ups. But it was for the charity, so he'd do it.

But he soon learned he'd made a mistake after Penny called out, "Let's get started," and propped the doors open. The first person through the door was Reuben's wife, followed by Javy's fiancee and Jake's girlfriend. And all of her sorority sisters. 

"Shit," Bradley grunted. "Did you make me come here just so I would lose?"

Javy was handing out pint glasses that they could use as tip cups as he smirked, and Bradley was wondering if there was any way he could actually stuff his discreetly with cash from his own wallet.

"You'll be just fine," Jake drawled as the jukebox came blaring to life. But even the music was mocking him as Slow Ride started to play, and Bradley had people in front of him expecting him to make them drinks. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Jake's girlfriend open her purse and start stuffing Jake's tip cup full. "I feel like that's considered cheating," Bradley told her, and she rolled her eyes and smirked before tucking five dollars into his cup as well.

"Don't tip Bradshaw, Sweets," Jake complained. "We made him come here as a buffer!"

"I knew it was a setup!" Bradley groaned as he listened to someone ask him for some wine and some beer. That was easy enough. He knew how to do that. Or at least he thought he did, but then one of the bartenders who had volunteered for the night told him he poured too much wine into the glass.

Then a woman asked him for a green tea shot, and he stared at her blankly. He leaned closer to Javy and asked, "What the hell is in a green tea shot?" 

"I don't know," he replied as he poured two pints at the same time. "But you better figure it out, because your tip cup is still practically empty."

"Shit." He was scrambling to flag down the young bartenders again when he froze. He only caught a glimpse from the corner of his eye, but he knew it was you simply by the way you moved and the color of your hair. And then you sat down in the only empty stool left at the bar and smiled at him, your voice drawing his eyes up to your perfect face. 

"Rooster. You're back."

The little thoughts and fantasies he'd indulged in while deployed had nothing on the real thing, and he knew he was blushing as you smiled and waited for him to respond. But it had been months since he'd been this close to you, and now he was really beating himself up for not trying to make you his sooner. Because if you were his, he could do all the things he wanted to do right now. Like kiss you.

"Rooster," you repeated with hesitation in your eyes, your voice softer, nearly drowned out by the jukebox. 

"They said you quit," he blurted out as he leaned on the bartop, curious as to why you were here tonight. "And that you moved."

Your eyes went a little wider as you nodded, your smile still soft. "I did. You asked about me?"

"Can you make me a green tea shot or not?"

Bradley begrudgingly switched his focus to the woman next to you and sighed. He was about to tell her he didn't even know what that was, or that maybe she should fuck off so he could talk to you, but then you reached out and ran your fingers along the back of his hand. 

Your touch was brief but intentional, and all of the irritation seemed to ease out of his body as his gaze snapped back to yours. "Yeah," you told the other woman as your finger grazed his knuckle one more time. "He can make you a green tea shot."

"I don't even know what's in it," he told you, with a helpless smile, trying to fight the urge to reach for your hand. 

You kind of shrugged as you said, "I do. I'll talk you through it."

Bradley's smile grew which left you giggling as he said, "I'm kind of helpless back here. Nothing like you."

"Well, you can learn from the best," you told him, reaching out to squeeze his wrist before pointing to the many liquor bottles behind him. "Irish whiskey and peach schnapps," you told him, leaning on the bar now, so close that he just couldn't bring himself to turn away from you. 

"Okay," he said, memorizing the exact color of your eyes. "Thanks for doing this."

You bit your lip and smiled up at him, and when Bradley moved just slightly closer, he thought he heard you whimper. Your eyes were full of emotion that reflected his own as you said, "Focus, Rooster. Irish whiskey and peach schnapps."

He nodded once and then finally moved away from you as he scanned the bottles and grabbed the two you told him. "Good," you said, pointing to the mini fridge and saying, "now get the sweet and sour mix. It's in a pink jug. Yeah, you got it. Now you need a half ounce of each."

Bradley listened to you explain how to use the shaker while he gave you another helpless look. "I'm just a simple beer or bourbon drinker," he said as he strained the drink that his customer had been waiting several minutes for into a shot glass.

You laughed and said, "I know you are, and it's kind of endearing that you don't know what you're doing. Now top it off with a splash of Sprite." 

Bradley grabbed the soda gun, pressed the little green button and then looked up at you again. "This is endearing?" he asked, finally sliding the shot to the annoyed woman who unenthusiastically put a dollar in his tip cup and turned away.

"Very," you promised him. "And now I want you to make me a kamikaze shot."

He gave you a bland look, but his heart was pounding. "Are you joking right now?"

Bradley was hyper focused on your lips as you said, "Not at all. You can handle it. It's vodka, triple sec and lime juice. I prefer Finlandia. Impress me, and I'll leave you a nice big tip for the charity."

Then he groaned. He had forgotten about the wager and the other patrons looking for drinks and just all of it. He raked his fingers through his hair. "Thanks, but I'll probably still end up in my underwear at work on Monday morning." 

When he pushed away from the bar again, your eyes dipped down to his jeans before snapping back up. "Underwear?"

"Yeah," he grunted as he reached for the type of vodka you liked best. You told him how much to use, and he dumped it in a shaker. "The guys coerced me into volunteering tonight. I literally just got home from deployment, but here I am... their scapegoat," he said, arms held out at his sides. "They threw out a side bet based on tip money, and next thing I know, all of their wives and girlfriends show up with a bunch of cash."

While he shook your kamikaze shot, he watched you turn first to your right and then to your left, eyeing up the overflowing tip cups in front of Reuben, Javy and Jake. Your lips parted, and you gaped at Bradley, but your eyes looked a little devious now. "You know, all of this makes a lot of sense since the guys made me come tonight."

Bradley carefully poured out your shot and asked, "What do you mean they made you come?" He realized his voice sounded annoyed, but how did they all have your phone number anyway? He'd been standing here thinking about asking you for it, but they were apparently already texting you. 

You accepted the shot and took a small sip to taste it. "They kept messaging me earlier today, saying I absolutely needed to be here tonight. They said it was important I made it to the charity event." Then you tipped your head back, and Bradley was treated to the soft looking expanse of your neck as you swallowed down the rest of the shot he made. When you were done, you set the glass down and licked your lips as you dug some money out of your pocket. "That was delicious."

While you loaded his cup with all the cash in your pocket, Bradley tried to ask you where you lived now. If the guys were bugging you earlier today, you couldn't be that far. But before he could get a word out, you pushed yourself up so you were kneeling on the bar right in front of him, and he looked up at you as you grinned down at him. 

"Don't worry, Rooster," you said as you ran your fingers through his hair. "I got you." Then Bradley was reaching for your hips. He didn't fucking care if the place was packed, he was ready to haul you off to the back hallway and ask you if he could kiss your pretty lips. You beamed at him as his hands met your body, but you just cupped your fingers around your mouth and shouted over the music, "Come get your drinks from Rooster! He knows how to make everything! But kamikazes are his specialty! And he's hot!"

His eyes went wide as you slipped out of his grasp and back onto your stool while an influx of mostly women queued up in front of him. "What did you do?" he asked, trying to mentally process an order for a cosmopolitan while stumbling over you calling him hot.

"I'm helping you not embarrass yourself at work. Keep the vodka out. Grab the Cointreau and a martini glass. We're about to show the guys what's up."

Bradley struggled through drink after drink as quickly as he could, but you never gave up on him. Occasionally you'd slide things out of his way or point out where he could find something he needed, and at some point you grabbed a second pint glass for his overflowing tip money. And all the while, he stole as many glances at you as he could while he worked. 

When Penny eventually walked behind him, patted him on the shoulder and said there was less than an hour left of the event, she also shared a smile with you. But there was no hope. The other guys were already working on their third tip cups each. "I don't think I can make up the deficit," he groaned, pulling up the hem of his shirt and wiping his brow with it. 

"Oh, that's a great idea," you mused, leaning across the bar and pulling his shirt up higher. "Take it off."

He stared at you as you tugged on the fabric. "Take it off?"

You nodded, the moevent exaggerated as you said, "Absolutely. Take your shirt off." As he looked around awkwardly before pulling his shirt over his head, you cupped your hands around your mouth once again and said, "He has six pack abs!"

Now the guys were glaring at him. "So do I!" Reuben complained.

"Don't you dare take your shirt off!" his wife told him, pointing at him in warning. 

Bradley knew his cheeks were flushed, and all he really wanted to do was talk to you and hopefully kiss you. And he really wanted to do all of that with his shirt on, because he felt a bit like a stripper now as you reached for a third tip cup. The cash was filling it up quickly, and he smirked as he thought about Reuben, Jake or Javy in their underwear instead of him. And it was all for a charity after all. 

"Make him use the shaker!" you urged a woman who looked like she was in her seventies and holding a crisp fifty dollar bill. "Make him flex."

Bradley groaned your name which sent you into a fit of laughter, your second empty shot glass still in front of you. "This isn't right," he complained half heartedly as he shook the older woman's Mai Tai with flexed abs and biceps. 

"It is so right," you told him, and he appreciated that you were scoping out the other guys' tip cups instead of looking at him right now. "Keep going. It's going to be so close." And then that fifty ended up in Bradley's cup when he handed over the cocktail, and you said, "Or maybe not!"

"Last call for the fundraiser!" Penny shouted over the crowd, and Bradley almost sighed in relief when the last few people ordered beers and a glass of wine. And then it was all over, and he had a huge amount of cash in front of him along with you. But he didn't care about the tips as much as he did getting to finally talk to you. The fundraiser was technically over, and you were looking at him the same way he was looking at you.

When he took a breath to suggest you and he go for a walk, he felt a hand on his bare back. It was one of the young bartenders who was helping out, and she said, "I can count up your tips for you," with a smile.

"Nope," you said, reaching for his cups yourself and shooting her a glare. "I'll do his. You go help Coyote." You didn't move again until her hand slipped off of his back and she walked away, and then you looked at Bradley and asked, "What are you going to do for me if you win?"

He watched as you quickly sorted the bills into efficient piles as he pulled his shirt back on and leaned against the bar. It had quieted down significantly, and now Penny was taking a few drink orders while everyone else seemed to move to the tables. He felt like he had a moment of privacy with you as he said, "I guess that depends. Apparently you moved away, Sweetheart."

"I did," you confirmed with a smirk as you counted up his twenties. 

"But you came back tonight."

You rolled your eyes, still smiling as you moved to the pile of tens. "I'm not too far away. I took a full time job and moved to Del Mar. The guys told me I needed to be here tonight for a special surprise. They said something I had been missing was returning. So I came down."

Bradley's fingers flexed on the edge of the bartop. "They did?"

You looked a little vulnerable as you stacked the bills in one pile and said, "Eight hundred and seventy one dollars." 

He nodded once and pushed the money aside without really looking at it. "You'd been missing something, Sweetheart?" he pressed gently, heart pounding in his chest. 

You bit your lip as your eyes drifted closed when he rubbed his thumb across your cheek. "I guess I must have asked the guys one time too many if they knew when you'd be back from your deployment."

"Oh," he rasped as you looked at him again. "You missed me?"

"Yes," you whispered. "I was going to ask you out, but then you were just gone. And they told me you were deployed, and I thought I really missed my chance. And I didn't even know if you were single or not, so I-"

Bradley had heard enough, so he kissed you. Just a soft press of his lips to yours, but you practically crawled onto the bar to get closer to him. And it was better than he spent the last five months imagining it might be. He could taste the vodka and lime on your tongue as it met his. Your fingers gently combed through his hair again, and he moaned, "I missed you too, Sweetheart."

Your laughter was soft and sweet as your nose brushed against his, and then he jerked back a few inches as Reuben shouted. "Yo, Rooster! There's time for that later, man! How much tip money did you make?"

"Eight hundred and seventy one," you replied as your fingers trailed down his scarred cheek to rub his mustache before you pecked him on the lips. The three guys groaned in unison, and Bradley watched your face light up in a beautiful smile. 

"This is not why we told you that you had to come tonight!" Jake whined, pointing at you and pouting. "You were supposed to distract him, not help him win! He was just supposed to turn into a bumbling mess and admit he has feelings for you!"

You turned away from Jake, and you asked Bradley, "So, do you have feelings for me?"

He huffed out a laugh before he hopped up to sit on the bar, swung his long legs over to the other side and hopped down again. You jumped from your stool and into his arms when he said, "I thought about you the whole time I was away, Sweetheart. I wanted to ask you out in the summer, but I didn't think it was right to hope you'd wait almost half a year for me to be stateside. For us to be together again."

"Bradley," you moaned. His hands found your hips just like earlier, and this time he pulled you snug against him while your fingers teased through his hair. "If a guy is worth waiting for, then I'd wait forever."

He kissed you again, tasting and nipping the lips that he'd dreamed about. Inhaling all of your sweetness that his mind didn't do justice to when he'd been away. Feeling your smile against his lips for the first time.

"Let me ask you again," you said, pausing between kisses. "Since I clearly helped you win the bet, what are you going to do for me?"

"Anything you want," he said immediately as you started to push him toward the door with a grin. 

"How about we go for a long drive? And we can talk about how the next time you're deployed, your girlfriend will be waiting patiently for you to return?"

Bradley scooped you up, sending you into a fit of laughter as he carried you directly to his Bronco.

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

Bradley was exhausted on Monday to the point where the travel mug of coffee you sent him with did nothing to keep him from yawning out on the tarmac at 8:00. But every yawn ended with him smiling as he thought about how perfect the weekend had been. In the very early hours of Sunday morning, you'd agreed to be his girlfriend. And now he was waiting for the cherry on top of it all.

He didn't have to wait long as he stood between Reuben and Javy, the three of them looking nearly identical in their matching flight suits and boots, standing at attention in front of Maverick. Then Jake came strolling out, and Bradley instantly started laughing. 

Maverick turned, took one look at Hangman in his boxer shorts and combat boots and said, "I don't even want to know what's going on here, I just want five hundred push ups."

Jake's eyes looked like they were going to bug out of his face as everyone else tried their best to hold in their laughter. Bradley took his phone out as discreetly as he could and snapped a picture of Jake panicking on the tarmac before he dropped down onto the ground and started on his punishment. 

"Everyone else to your jets," Mav barked, and Bradley didn't stick around to hear him say it again. Instead he texted you the photo of Jake along with a short message.

Couldn't have pulled it off without your help, Sweetheart.

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

The way I would die of this man just casually started calling me his Sweetheart. I love that he swept the guys to win the bet! Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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[attapullman]

The Perfect Pink | Robert "Bob" Floyd

Summary: While bartending for Rolling Acres Retirement's Valentine's Party, you encounter a pink-cheeked man and his cherry-loving cousins.

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: all fluff with alcohol mentions

A Note From Mo: Here is my Pink Lady fic for @thedroneranger's Pick Your Poison event to go with this gorg moodboard! As a part-time mixologist and full-time Bob Floyd lover, this was such a fun concept to play around with and has inspired me to come up with more pink drinks. I've never been a Valentine's girly, but I fully believe this pink-cheeked WSO could convince me otherwise. To everyone who reads this, I love you bunches and bunches, all 365 days in the year!

It’s so pink. Horrendously. Abysmally. Pepto-bismally. PINK.

When you agreed to tend the bar in a pinch, a few bundles of carnations and candy pink paper hearts were your guess for the evening’s decorations. But when you showed up to Rolling Acres Retirement's Valentine’s Party holding a crate of soda water and a handful of shakers, your senses flatlined with the amount of pink covering every surface.

Petal pink tablecloths straightened over round tables; a small bouquet of magenta carnations attached to each folding chair and incensing the recreation hall of the retirement home. Heart-covered paper plates and folded napkins set up at each place setting, glittering confetti sprinkled around the tableware. The ceiling isn’t even a reprieve, a rainbow of fuchsia and rose and flamingo and blush balloons filling up every available inch of space.

Suzette on the front desk had complimented your dusky pink sweater - an appropriate choice for the holiday - but set against this backdrop you feel like another decoration. An oversized bauble that also makes cocktails and pours cheap wine.

And now, standing behind this makeshift card-table-turned-bar covered in bubblegum crepe paper, your brain might explode in a cloud of hot pink smoke. Counting out pours and trying not to slice yourself making garnishes is a struggle keeping up with all these orders. While the average age of the party goer may be eighty, they drink more than the 21st birthday bash you bartended last weekend. You’ve been here all of an hour and Mrs. Moscovitz has already downed three fuschia cosmopolitans.

While disappointed you don’t have more romantic Valentine’s Day plans - though, when have you ever had a date on this too pink day? - it’s fun to see who’s turned up to celebrate. White-haired couples are swaying on the makeshift dance floor, every shade of pink and red in their attire. Bridge groups and knitting circles are excitedly chatting at their respective tables, gossiping over who is in attendance and with whom. Even the staff have wide grins splitting their faces, enjoying the festivities that break up the bleak winter. It’s the least you can do to spend the holiday providing beverages for this crowd.

The best part is the families. While romantic love is thick in the air, so is platonic love. Family members of all ages have come out to spend the holiday with the residents. Mr. Gordon’s daughter and her family have driven hours to catch up over pot roast and sparkling cider while his grandson plays trucks over a pile of chocolates he snuck from Suzette.

Orders have slowed down and your eyes keep glancing over to Ms. Floyd’s table. The entire clan has showed up for dinner, dancing, and to take home a batch of her homemade snickerdoodles. Multiple relatives are taking up two entire heart-sprinkled tables. Your focus is mainly on the second table for too far from you, where the grandkids have been relegated to play cards and swap candy hearts to pass the time.

“Why don’t you go ask the pink lady for more cherries.” God, he’s cute. The only guy in this place near your age and his attention is stolen by a pair of toddler girls obsessed with the cherries in their Shirley temples. 

You divert your eyes quickly when you realize he’s talking about you and your pink sweater. The girls giggle shyly, the high pitched squeals of glee as they convince him to go up instead. Fiddling with shakers, wiping down the counter, you try to stay busy as you physically feel him approach the converted bar and your trembling hands.

“Hi!” His smile is thin and nervous and his cheeks are pink, blushing from his little cousins and their antics. Also because you’re much prettier up close and he’s wearing a shirt he’d never normally be caught in if his grandma hadn’t picked it out. 

He’s much cuter at this distance as well. Sandy hair combed neatly, one small strand slipping out behind his ear. Friendly cerulean eyes framed by golden wire spectacles, similar to the ones several of the ex-military men at Rolling Acres are sporting. His thin lips falter slightly as he takes in how well the pink of your sweater compliments your skin. God, he wishes he wasn’t wearing this shirt.

You spring into service mode and grab a fresh cocktail shaker. “What can I do you for?”

“I’m technically up here for some cherries.” You dutifully nod, hoping to hide the fact you’ve been watching him converse with the toddler girls in their matching baby pink dresses most of the night. You make a small dish of cherries up and push it toward him, shaking your head when he attempts to pay. “The thirty-eight cents of cherries is a small expense for a night those two will talk about for weeks. They’re on the house.”

He grabs the dish with a smile, but realizes he now has no excuse to stay by the bar. And while he loves his cousins, he’s on leave for a few more weeks and you’re really pretty. A few extra minutes wouldn’t hurt. He extends his hand with a timid smile. “I’m Bob.”

You reach out and shake his hand back as you introduce yourself, hoping the condensation coating your fingers isn’t too noticeable. He immediately commits your name to memory, happy to replace “The Pink Lady” with a name as fitting to you as yours.

He moves out of the way as a woman in a magenta scarf orders a round for her bingo group. Bob watches as you whir into action, pouring liquors and counting off ounces. The delicate way you garnish each drink so the owner feels special. Your gracious smile when a tip is stuffed into the heart-shaped velvet box provided to you for tips.

When the line at the bar dies down, he sidles back up to your makeshift station. Bob notices the way you eye the decorations warily, still adjusting to the deafening pink of it all. He drums lightly on the blushing pink tablecloth, catching your wide-eyed attention. “Everything all right?”

“Uh, this place is too…pink?” you laugh, gesturing to the overabundance of rosy hues surrounding you. For possibly the first time all night, Bob realizes that while you were the only pink thing that had his attention, it is suffocating in the recreation hall. 

“Yes, yes it is,” he chuckles right back, eyes soaking in the offending decorations. There’s a comfortable air between the two of you, and he decides to push his luck for more time with The Pink Lady.

Bob clears his throat, pulse thrumming through his body. Tonight is his one and only chance to land a date with the pretty bartender.

“So, to go with the theme, what is the pinkest drink you can make me?” He wiggles his eyebrows, his best attempt at flirting. A hint of a giggle escapes as you purse your lips, contemplating his challenge. 

“I can make you a pink lady.” 

He narrows his eyes. “Is that a real drink, or have you named it after yourself?”

“It’s real, I promise.” You’re all smiles at his attention as you combine the gin, applejack, and grenadine with a splash of lemon juice. He really could watch you work for hours.

As you reach for the last ingredient, his eyes bug out. “Is that an egg?” He’s a Navy man, his normal bar only has cocktails with two ingredients. Since when did eggs go in cocktails?

“When you dry shake an egg white it creates this nice foam, adds to the drink.” While he wants to come across as open-minded and cultured, he’s hesitant. “If you don’t like it, I’ll make you something else.”

He’s bewitched as you pour the perfectly pink drink into a plastic coup, the creamy white foam rising to top it off. A cherry balances the rim, one that won’t be stolen by his mischievous cousins. As he looks between the freshly poured drink and you, he swears your cheeks are the same happy pink.

You push the drink toward him, excited to share something new with a customer. Always a gamble as a bartender, but worth it when you expand someone’s palate. He gives you a tentative smile, unsure if he’s going to like it, but he really wants to impress you. In return, you give him an encouraging nod, completely unsure of how this will go. He takes a sip, the frothy mixture coating his tongue.

As far as he’s concerned, the drink is named after you. Not too sweet, not too tart, a divinely balanced combination of flavors in a perfect pink concoction. Bob is convinced you would taste just as good, especially with a cherry. The thought makes his brain blank.

“Do you like it?” Your hopeful eyes are endearing. He wants to brush the strand of hair from your cheek and assure you that he likes it, that he’d like anything you made him because you made it. But you’re practically strangers so he stumbles over his words as he promises it’s delicious. 

The bowl of cherries for his cousins still in his hand, Bob stands to the side of the bar and sips his tartly sweet drink, casually keeping up conversation with you as you serve other patrons. You’re glad for the company, enjoying the way he asks about your technique and mutters out the few things he knows about wine from conversations with his aunt. Despite the fact you’re working, it’s the best Valentine’s Day you’ve had in years with this bespectacled man watching you tend bar.

He’s just so cute, blushing his own special pink hue when your eyes connect while you shake up a few martinis.

“Uncle Bob!” There is no mistaking who is calling him over. Two identical heads pouting as they motion him over. His time with you is up. He gives you a sweet smile, trying to memorize every inch of your face, before motioning his hand filled with cherries in their direction. You bittersweetly grin right back, smile lingering as you start on Mr. Nickerson’s two merlots as you watch his broad shoulders walk away.

Oh, how you wish he would come back.

Because it’s a retirement home and not a frat house, by ten the party is wrapping up. You’ve exchanged shy glances with Bob a handful of times, but his family has taken up most of his attention with Navy questions and inquiring when he’s going to visit next. He barely registers the event is over before he’s rummaging through his mom’s handbag with his last attempt at salvaging the night.

You’re cleaning up your supplies when the Floyd clan walks past, all waving good night to you and the staff, thanking you all for a great Valentine’s night. The girls thank you for their cherries, a stem hanging from one’s lip. 

Staggering at the end of the crowd is Bob, his cheeks flushed and palms tingling. He stands in front of your table, rocking on his heels, working up his courage. You give him a warm smile, thanking him for his company, and he completely melts. As he holds up his occupied hand, he hopes this works.

“Forgot to slip this in earlier.” His smile is tense as he jams a few dollars through the absurdly small hole in your improvised tip box. You thank him before both blurting out awkward goodbyes. As he catches up with his family, a pang rings through your chest. Disappointed he’s gone, never to be seen again. 

Bob Floyd, a Valentine’s mirage you will remember fondly.

Once all your things are packed, you square things up with Suzette with your pay for the event and a promise to stop by to visit the residents later in the month. You schlep everything to the car, a mixture of emotions painting your face in the rearview mirror as you make your way back home. The weight of defeat keeping you from bringing anything inside except for that damn tip box you’re hoping will cover groceries for the week.

You pry open the velvet lid and are met with the best surprise.

There, at the bottom of your substitute tip jar, underneath all the singles the elderly stiffed you with, was a scrap of cheap rosy pink napkin. You unfurl it to see neat chicken scratch handwriting, the pen poking through the fabric in spots as he worked to write out his message with a phone number beneath.

I’m here until the 27th. Drinks on me? - Bob

Now that you think about it, maybe you do like pink.

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[whatislovevavy]

Tia Maria and Whiskey on the Rocks

Pairing: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x OC (Cherry)

Masterlist

Author's Note: hey y'all, apologies for the extremely late posting, I've been going through some life transitions and finding time and motivation to write has been difficult, but here it is now :) This is part two of Most of Freedom and Of Pleasure, and is apart of @thedroneranger 's Pick Your Poison Writing Challenge with the prompt being Espresso Martinis I'm glad I got to include one of my favorite drinks with one of my favorite songs with a character I love writing for <3 I'm most likely going to do a third part with smut in it, so let me know if that would be something you lovely people would like to read :)

Warnings: Mentions of Smut, Fluff, Alcohol, Pilots catching feelings

WC: 5.2k

All of my writings will be added to my writing side blog @sophs-writing-nook 

This is an 18+ fanfic, so minors scoot pls. You are responsible for the media you consume. Do not copy, plagiarize, repost, or translate this fic without my explicit permission as it is my own creation. 

Goddamn it. 

You slid the end call button as Phoenix didn’t pick up, fighting with the raindrops that fell and streaked down your phone screen, and trying to keep your jacket secure around your frame that didn’t seem to be saving your red dress from being soaked by the rain. The overwhelming damp and cold feeling seeped into your scalp and made the floodgates that held your tears back crack and crumble all the more. 

You regretted this date, much more than all of the others. 

A shaky sigh left your lips, frustration, and anger forming its potent mix in your mind. 

You tried to keep your eyes on your phone and to stay calm; you didn’t need the people eyeing you on the sidewalk feeling sorry for you. They had nothing to feel sorry for anyway.  You were just a person that had a disaster of a date and was stuck out in the rain trying to get home. Absolutely nothing to feel sorry for. You huffed, tensing your jaw as you found cover under an awning of a bookstore. Trying not to look at anyone that gave you that characteristic look of pity as they walked by. Biting your lip, you contemplated calling the last number you wanted to be calling late on a Friday night. 

Just get it over with, you thought. 

You quickly tapped the call button next to the infuriating little contact icon. Biting into your lip harder, finding the puddle reflecting the San Diego city lights more appealing than attempting to meet any passerbyers gaze as each tone brought you closer to a ride home. Or the teasing of a lifetime. Maybe both. 

“Cherry.”

That familiar silk laced drawl made you shut your eyes and wish anyone else had picked up when you called. But alas, here you were.

“Wasn’t expectin’ to hear from you. I thought you were busy entertainin’ what’s his name, Dylan? Derrick?” 

The humor in his voice brought a hot surge of frustration to the tips of your fingers as you gripped your phone harder, jaw tensing. 

“Look, I’m not in the mood for this right now…” Your voice losing its bite, but only by a little, “I’ve had a really shitty night, and,” you took a shaky breath, the frustration of the evening coming in full force on your psyche, “I need a ride home.” Jake's teasing grin wilted. You never would have called him, unless it was serious. He licked his lower lip, turning to look back at his friends finishing up a game of pool from the corner near the bathrooms, the steadily growing chatter in the bar making it more difficult to hear you as the seconds passed. He rubbed the back of his neck, swallowing. “Ok, sit tight, sweets. I'll come get you, you're still at Benny’s?” 

Your eyebrows furrowed. That’s…odd. You never told him where you were going. The wind and rain made you pull your jacket tighter around yourself. The evening rain makes you shiver, jaw chittering. Taking a deep breath, “yeah, I'm outside,” eyes diverting from the passing traffic to the worn, gold tinged cursive on the window, “Clara’s bookstore.“Your eyes trained on the rain soaked overhead awning dripping to the sidewalk in front of your painted toes peeking from your heels as you waited for his response. 

Jake's eyebrows furrowed, eyes diverting from his phone screen to the rain streaked windows facing the beach. That's a decent walk from where you ate, he thought, eyebrows raising. Must've been quite a guy to make you leave early. And in the pouring rain, no less.

“I'll be there soon, Cher. Are you somewhere safe? Somewhere out of the rain?”

If you didn't know any better, you'd say the insufferable, look-out-for-number-one-only, selfish, arrogant  Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin, who spent each free moment he wasn't peacocking around base, making your nerves burn and fray, sounded concerned about your well being. 

As soon as Jake heard your dreary, evidently rain soaked confirmation, he opted out of the game, forcing Bob to take his place with little to no explanation besides that  a commitment came up,”  striding down the Hard Deck steps to his parked truck. 

He's not ditching you. He wouldn't do that. You repeated what felt like mantras as the minutes ticked by. Hot tears started to brew at the corners of your eyes. You clutched your now soaked jacket over your dress, your toes sinking into the soggy faux leather of your heels as you leaned back against the concrete column of the closed store. The amber overhead lights making warped reflections in the puddles of the buildings and cars passing by.

Your breathing was ragged as you felt the familiar flames of frustration lick at your brain, something that had only stopped when Jake said he was going to go come get you. 

You felt so stupid. Wearing this dress. These heels. Your smudged make-up that, at one point, looked presentable. You just wanted to go home and eat a pint of ice cream. 

God, why hadn't Phoenix picked up?

You clenched your eyes in frustration, a rigid breath leaving your throat as you leaned your head back against the column. 

The familiar hum of Jake's truck brought your teary gaze up to the almost barely visible silhouette in the driver's seat. 

Jake's door flew open, jogging with a jacket clutched in hand. Your eyes widened as he got closer to you, wrapping you up in his jacket. 

By the time he reached you, his hair was drenched, now a more dull golden hue. His charm remained, unfortunately, in the city’s downpour. 

“Come on sweets, let's get you inside.” Your mouth parted slightly. The sight of his shirt clinging to his biceps and broad shoulders, and the subtle scent of sweat, his natural musk, and rain almost made you miss his statement. 

His rich jade eyes traced the soft reflection of the street light off of your soaked hair, to your smudged make up, to the drenched portions of your dress and jacket to your slight shiver you were evidently trying to repress. 

His lips curved into a slight frown. You didn't deserve to be treated this way on a date. Especially not when you looked so-

His eyes returned to your deep brown ones, undertoned by your smudged mascara, finding them already on his; sharper than a moment ago, daring him to pity you. 

He carefully wrapped his jacket tighter around your shoulders, guiding you to the passenger door of his truck, headlights still blinding, and refracting with the incoming rain.

The car ride was silent except for the quiet sounds from the radio. Jake would take occasional glances your way at stop lights, but your gaze remained on the road ahead; head leaned against the side rest of his car, body still wrapped in his jacket. You had to stop yourself from unintentionally cocooning yourself deeper into it. 

“You want me to drop you off at your apartment?” 

You glanced at him, “yeah.” 

His frown curved deeper. Your tone lacked the usual spitfire attitude you always bared him, instead replaced by a sense of accepted defeat. A few beats of silence passed before Jake cleared his throat. “This Dylan guy must've been some date…you want to talk about it?” Your lip quirked up a bit. His name was Derrick, but you didn't have the heart to correct him. 

You adjusted closer to the side of the passenger seat, leaning your head on the window. 

“Not really.” 

There was that same defeated tone again, the one that made Jake's heartache in a way he had never felt before for you. Or for anyone for that matter. 

Jake brought his truck from a coast to a stop in front of your apartment building. His comforting gaze settled on your face, gaze still avoiding his. “Thanks for the ride home.” Your cherrywood eyes met his, giving him a tight smile before grabbing your purse, soaked coat, and leaving his jacket on the leather seat. His frown deepened, jaw tensing a bit as he watched you open his truck door. How dare this pathetic excuse of a man bring you to this state, a complete 180 to how he saw you every day since he met you. 

“Wait,” you looked back towards him, expecting some usual hangman-esque comment that would surely make you throw your soaked shoe at him. “Look, Hangman, I appreciate the ride home, but I'm not in the mood to sleep with you as a ‘thank you’.” His eyebrows pinched. Did you really think that low of him? And in that same defeated tone? “That,” he sighed, “that’s not what I was going to say,” he reassured, pushing his hair back with his hand. Opposing hand still on the steering wheel, watch gleaming in the glow of the radio. 

“Let me buy you some food and a drink, I know you like the Cajun fries at that bar downtown.” 

You were taken aback by the offer. Frankly, you weren't in the mood if this was a joke. “It'd be my treat,” he lightly pressed with a comforting tone. You bit the inside of your lip, examining his face for any sign of ill intent, but you found nothing in his warm sea glass eyes or the defined features of his nose and jaw. 

Cajun fries sounded nice. 

Really nice.

And a drink sounded even better. 

“Plus, I heard your stomach grumbling so you can't lie to me.”  A smile almost broke out across your lips. 

Almost. 

“I don't know, Hang,” you sighed.  The thought of snuggling up on your couch in a warm blanket, with a pint of ice cream and watching some trash reality show sounded appealing. But you were hungry and you had yet to go grocery shopping. And you had no booze.

“I promise, I'll make it worth your while…” 

You bit your lip, “a drink does sound really nice…”

His lips twitched into a smile, eyes twinkling. 

“Don't make me regret this, Hang…”the familiar spark in your voice slowly returned, making his heart skip a beat, “let me just change shoes first.” You grimaced as you remembered just how soaked your shoes were as the rain finally let up. 

“Wouldn't dream of it, Sweets,” he reassured as you left him towards your front door, a concealed smile on your face that cracked with each stride to your door. He let his eyes skim from your bare back to your concealed hips with an appreciative gaze as the red material of your dress flowed around your bare thighs. His view closed off as you shut your front door. 

You let your eyes drift across the interior of the bar at your booth, leaning your cheek on your hand. Jake had left you at the booth to get you a drink. You tried to give him a request, but he left before he could hear you. At least whatever concoction he brought you would be free. You let your eyes drift shut, listening to the sound of the bar top and the music player in the corner. 

“One Tia Maria Espresso Martini for the lovely lady, and the fries are on their way.” You opened your eyes to see the almost onyx colored elixir with a layer of frothy foam in the glass, a triage of espresso beans that looked almost weightless on the foam layer. 

How did he know this was your favorite? You had never ordered them at Penny’s since she didn't have Tia Maria. You looked at him, eyebrows raised, expecting some sort of explanation for how he knew about this. 

“I remember you tried to order one of these at Penny's and thought you'd like it,” he said with a subtle tone of shyness, like he was apprehensive that he had overstepped, making your eyebrows knit together.

“I don't fully understand why you like them,” he teased, stirring his whiskey on the rocks in his glass, an effortlessly charming smile beginning to form on his lips, “but it makes sense.” 

Your eyes narrowed at his playful ones, “what's that supposed to mean?” 

He leaned back against the booth, eyes tracing the pretty features of your face and caramel skin tone, the neon lights above your seat adding to the gleam of your wavy, soft, dark hair. 

Taking a sip from his glass, you tried to focus on his face and not the subtle bob of his adam’s apple as he took a warming sip of the amber liquid. 

“You're kind of an acquired taste,” he took another sip, “bitter, but have a sweet side deep down.” Your eyes narrowed, “I'm not an acquired taste, you're just annoying and insufferable 99% of the time, so you never see my sweet side,” you clipped, eyes slowly sharpening. His lip quirked. To anyone else it would seem like you hated his guts. But he knew better, knew you better. He playfully put his hand over his heart, “Oh, Sweets, annoying and insufferable? You wound me.”  You rolled your eyes, a smile slipping around the rim of your martini glass. The bittersweet elixir flowing down your throat. His grin widened, “there's that smile,” he teased. Before you could quip him back, the root of your culinary desire was placed on the table with a soft tap and a gentle "enjoy" from the waitress. The savory, warm smell of the spices and fries almost made you moan, only now realizing just how hungry you were. You had left your date just as you were barely through your starting salad. 

“Easy there, Sweets, don't want you to choke,” he teased, giving you a wink.

You rolled your eyes at the poorly disguised innuendo, “don't tell me how to eat my fries, Bagman.” 

He barely held back his laugh at what was essentially a growl. He contemplated telling you that technically they were his fries, but he opted to keep them to himself. If having three sisters had taught him anything, it's to never get between a woman and her food. 

A comfortable silence fell over the table as he glanced around the bar and back to you, still picking at your fries. Eyes tracing over the defined round edges of your sinful red colored nails that he tried to not think about how they would feel pressed into his shoulder blades, to your necklace that dipped teasingly between your breasts. The subtle rise of your chest. The sprinkle of freckles and gentle flutter of your eyelashes on your cheeks. The touched-up mascara on your eyelashes. The soft flush of your cheeks. The cute curve of your nose. The gentle slope of your lips. 

“You listening?”

His eyes shot to your own, his face a bit pink after having been caught. 

“Of course, Sweets,” 

Your eyes narrowed as you put your fry down in the basket, scoffing. 

“I asked,” you leaned forward, arms crossing on the table, his eyes doing their damnedest to not dart down to your cleavage, “why you brought me here, because I don't buy it was only because my stomach was making noises.”

Your tone wasn't sharp or accusatory, but it still put him a bit on edge. 

He took a deep breath through his nose, trying to get comfortable in his seat. You had a habit of putting him on edge, but in a way that made him crave more. It was almost adrenaline inducing. 

“Just wanted to treat you a little, that not allowed?” 

His collected, charismatic answer made you narrow your eyes. 

“You're not a very good liar.”

His lip quirked into a grin, diverting his gaze down to his empty glass before bringing his warm eyes up to your own again. His grin settling into a thin line. It wasn't exactly a lie.

“I didn't want you to wallow on your couch thinking about that Danny guy. You don't deserve to feel that way.” 

Your eyebrows rose, lip quirking. That definitely wasn't the answer you were expecting and it was still the wrong name, again. 

His eyes dart away from yours to the bar top. Clearing his throat, “you want another martini?”

You blink, breaking your thoughts, toying with the empty glass,  “yeah, I'll take another.”

Your eyes followed the way his body moved under his button up shirt that exposed a delicious amount of chest hair, and his worn, rich burnt sienna leather jacket. The way his stride exuded a rare sense of carefree confidence. The broadness of his shoulders under his jacket. The thickness of his fingers around the delicate glass of your martini. The way his golden locks of hair reflected the overhead lights of the bar and various neon signs on the wall you both were seated at. 

It made you almost forget that you knew what it felt like to have his bare skin against your own. It made you forget, for just a moment, that you’d been fucking this man with no strings attached. 

“Here you are, Sweets,”His smooth drawl derailed your train of thought that would have surely made you clench your thighs. 

He placed the martini on the table with an almost silent clank against the table, eyes bright and playful, the rich green color added by the neon cloverleaf above his head. 

Your lip quirked, “thank you…. You know I don't like it when you call me, Sweets, Hang.”

A smirk grew on his lips, “I think it suits you,” his gentle gaze on yours. 

You scowled, trying to repress the smile that threatened to break through. He didn't need more encouragement to call you these…you wanted to say demeaning titles, but that felt a bit cruel. It was more like a pet name, a source of teasing that wore your nerves down faster than any other trick he had in his well developed arsenal. He'd always been something akin to a wart. Once you caught him, he was hard to leave. 

“Fries any good?”

You looked down to the near-empty basket to his teasing features.  A small smile broke through as you gently pushed the basket to him. After all, he did pay for them.

You watched as he took a few and brought them between his perfect teeth, eyes darting between the sight of him dipping a few more in ketchup, to picking at your red manicured nails. A comfortable silence fell over the table and quiet conversation followed, from what plans were set for their work colleagues to hang out next, to whether Bob was going to ask Admiral Simpson’s new secretary out.

“I don’t think he’s gonna do it.” Jake said confidently as he leaned back against the booth, his arm over the back, his other hand holding his near empty glass of whiskey. Your eyebrows rose, feeling a bit more loose and warm since first sitting down, mostly attributed to the fact you were finishing up your third martini. You cracked a smile, eyes comfortably heavy, “you don’t know Floyd very well then.” His eyebrows rose, encouraging you to go on. You leaned forward, eyes bright and intense, just how Jake liked them, “you do know what Bob stands for don’t you?” His lip quirked, eyes bright and mirthful, “of course, baby on board.” You took a sip from your glass, rolling your eyes at his typical cocksure tone, “No, it stands for…” His brow quirked waiting for you to finish, his grin starting to form as he watched your eyes dance across the ceiling looking for the words in your impaired state. 

You leaned forward closer across the table, putting your pointer fingers up, biting at the inside of your cheek, losing your battle with the grin that wanted to gleam on your face, “it stands for Big Ol’ Balls.” His own laughter bubbled up in his throat as he watched you crumble into near hysterics at what had just left your mouth. 

His laughter settled while yours continued, failing to do anything else but just listen to the sweet noise. He had heard your laugh before, but he’d never had any significant part of bringing it out of you. He let a smile grace his lips at the sweet noise. As your laughter died down, he let his eyes wander to the jukebox in the corner and the thinning out crowd at the bar. He bit the inside of his cheek, the creases of his forehead showing as he listened to the song emulating from the speakers. 

“Do you wanna dance?” Jake asks, not fully thinking about the question. 

Your espresso martini almost did a full stop in your throat. Tonight had been a series of firsts with Hangman; sharing fries, him buying you drinks, and seeing you in your romantic element. Dancing together was an oddly intimate first. Sure, you’d both fucked each other’s brains out almost every other day, but dancing, well, dancing was something that seemed to be a step further than that. It didn’t involve a physical closeness attributed to taking your frustrations out on each other; it was two people flowing together, not trying to wrack each other’s physical resolve. It completely contradicted the original purpose of getting physically close to this insufferable, arrogant man; an outlet for pent up frustration through deeply satisfying, carnal escapades. 

Before you could stop yourself, you nodded. 

He rose up out of the booth first with a squeak, offering you his hand. Your deep brown eyes looking up at him, then darting to his outstretched hand, your lips parting. 

This was new, uncharted territory.

“I promise I won’t bite,” he reassured with a smile. He tried to not think about the way your red dress hugged your curves so deliciously, or how your cleavage almost spilled over the top of your garment. You had already had three martinis, and were definitely feeling the effects of them. He didn’t want to make you feel pressured into anything that you both typically took part in when you were this close physically. But he still wanted to be close to you. 

You bit the inside of your lip and, for reasons only God could tell you, you took his hand. 

He led you to the corner near the jukebox that was otherwise mostly emptied out. The beginning of England Dan and John Ford Coley’s I'd really love to see you tonight flowed from the speakers as Jake settled his hands on your waist, your own apprehensively around his neck, keeping your body upright as you let the initial beats flow through you in your relaxed state. His evergreen eyes traced over your melted brown ones, admiring the subtle flush of your cheeks to your low, lidded eyes. 

Hello, yeah, it's been a while

Not much, how about you?

Your eyes darted around his face, avoiding his eyes that seemed to solely focus on your own. His hands squeezed your hips. In attraction or comfort, you couldn’t quite tell. 

I'm not sure why I called

I guess I really just wanted to talk to you

You should have felt more alarmed by the close proximity and unorthodox reason behind it, but, and you didn’t want to admit it, the proximity felt nice. Maybe it was because of the drinks? It had to be  because of the drinks.

And I was thinking maybe later on

We could get together for a while

One of his hands left your hip to softly, ever so softly, to lift your chin up to meet his eyes. “What are you getting shy about?” The gentle smirk on his lips paired perfectly with his rich green eyes.

It's been such a long time

And I really do miss your smile

You swallowed, eyes trapped in a jade coated trance. “I think I just had too much to drink.” His lip quirked at your soft, almost whispered tone, holding you as you both swayed to the music. He knew you could hold more alcohol, but didn’t press. 

I'm not talking about moving in

And I don't want to change your life

He brought you closer to him, resting his head against the side of your own. Savoring the soft smell of citrus from your hair and the warm skin of your lower back against the palm of his hand, and the silk texture of your hand in his own. 

But there's a warm wind blowing, the stars are out

And I'd really love to see you tonight

This felt like the most alien and natural thing he had done with you. It almost made him forget that within only the last few hours, he was fucking you against the hunter green lockers, feeling you cum on his cock. 

We could go walking through a windy park

Or take a drive along the beach

He tried to not ruin the delicate moment he was having with you, and he figured his dick pressing into you might make you forget about all the good the night has brought between you two. A larger part of him than he cared to admit didn’t want to go back to the no-strings-attached arrangement he’d had with you for the past few months. 

Or stay at home and watch TV

You see it really doesn't matter much to me

He wanted more moments like this with you. But he could feel the apprehension that, as much as he didn’t want to admit, was mostly attributed to his reputation. In the months since first feeling you fall apart under him, he hadn’t slept with anyone else. Not even the desperate tag chasers in form-fitting maxi dresses at the Hard Deck. And that had to count for something. 

I'm not talking about moving in

And I don't want to change your life

He couldn’t help the pang in his chest; you were definitely open to dating other men. Could he really change your mind about him? 

But there's a warm wind blowing, the stars are out

And I'd really love to see you tonight

You had to admit, if someone had told you months ago that you would be slow dancing with Hangman in a nearly empty bar, and you wouldn't be trying to claw his throat out, you would have told them they’d been breathing in too much jet fuel. As much as you hated to admit it, it felt nice and, dare say, comforting being here with him. 

I won't ask for promises

So you don't have to lie

The soft texture of his jacket, warm hold, and soothing scent around his neck made you sigh. It was different from his usual mix of jet fuel, sweat, bergamot, and cedarwood. A part of you really hated how anything looked good on him and that he smelled amazing in whatever scent wafted off of him. 

We've both played that game before

Say I love you and say goodbye

“I’m sorry your date didn’t go well tonight,” You gently leaned back from his head, eyes meeting his own. Your eyes drooped comfortably as you looked over his face, trying to detect any sense of pity or ridicule. But all you found were warm, soulful, malachite eyes looking back into your burnt sienna ones under the neon lights. If your mind was clearer, you’d say it was romantic. But this was Hangman, and what he did best was no-commitment hookups in the dead of night. Not romance. It would take more than three martinis to make you forget that. 

I'm not talking about moving in

And I don't want to change your life

“Yeah, me too,” you muttered before leaning your head back on his shoulder. He swallowed gently, afraid that the movement would disturb you. 

But there's a warm wind blowing, the stars are out

And I'd really love to see you tonight

Jake continued to hold you close as slow songs continued to ebb and flow from the speaker, one after the other; trying to not let his mind drift to how this would play out tomorrow in your more sober mind, until he could feel your weight grow heavier against his body as you swayed gently. 

“Hey, Sweets,” he whispered against your hair. You hummed, eyes fluttered closed. “I should get you home.” You hummed in agreement, not having the strength to fight him on the pet name. Your sequoia-colored eyes peeking open, making him smile. 

He settled the tab, placing his leather jacket around your shoulders that wrapped you in warmth and the soothing smell of cedarwood and cinnamon. 

He walked you back to his truck, opening the door for you and making sure you were settled before closing the door. 

The car ride back was silent as you tried to stay awake, listening to the slow country song on the radio, your eyes drifting shut. The smooth stall of the truck made your eyes flutter open. Jake gently reached out to you, gingerly rubbing the knuckle of his forefinger against your exposed forearm to get your attention. You flinched at the unexpected, soft, almost non-existent contact, body tensing. “We’re here, Sweets,” his gentle tone letting your body ease back into the seat. 

Before your mind thought to open the door, he was already on the other side opening it for you, and offering you his hand to step down. It was truly unfair how good he looked under the streetlights outside your apartment, with his unbuttoned shirt, sunglasses hooked in the front, and slightly disheveled hair. It made you wonder how you came to hate this man in the first place. But then again, hate was a strong word and maybe he didn’t deserve to have it placed on him. Maybe it was only because of the three espresso martinis he bought you, tinting your vision of who he was tonight. 

Jake didn’t ask if you wanted him to walk you to your door. He held your hand gently in a way that seemed unusual for him as he walked with you up the stone steps to your front door. “Thanks for tonight. I really needed it.” His face broke out into a soft, sincere smile, “anytime, Cherry.” Your lips tugged into a smile, diverting your eyes to the house keys in your hand. His eyes couldn't stop drawing to the strand of dark hair that kept getting in your eyes. Your gaze shot to him as he let his forefinger sweep the hair behind your ear. 

“You deserve to have fun every once in a while.”He murmured, eyes tracing over the fine features of your face and the rich color of your hair under the porch light. His soft eyes brought a certain warmth that you'd never experienced with him. 

You gave him a smile, as you fiddled with your keys, fighting off the blush that threatened to break through. 

“Do you think,” you swallowed, “that you could not tell anyone about my really shitty date?” Jake, putting on a small smile, nodded, “yeah, of course, Sweets. I mean, I think I did a pretty good job at rectifying the experience.” 

His gentle, carefree smirk made your lip tip up into a small smile and shake your head. 

You let go of his hand, resisting to admit that you missed the contact already. 

“I’ll see you on Monday, Hang,” you bid farewell. 

He watched with a gentle smile and warm eyes as you closed the door behind you, giving him a soft wave. 

His lips pursed, morphing back into a smile as he walked back to his truck. The night seemed to fulfill him more than all of your trysts combined.

It had to count for something that you didn't ask him to never mention your... date? if he could even call it that...

You leaned back against your shut front door, a smile on your lips that he had never brought past your lips. 

Maybe it was only because of the three espresso martinis and this haze would lift in the morning, and he’d go back to being Hangman. 

Or maybe, just maybe, he truly wasn't as bad as you thought. 

People who may be interested <3

@roosterforme @sebsxphia @mamachasesmayhem @withahappyrefrain @entertainmentgirl80 @teacupsandtopgun @seresinhangmanjake @goldenseresinretriever @sailor-aviator @hello7442 @gigisimsonmars @yepyeahuhhuh @tess-lecter-blog@hookslove1592 @86laura11 @seresinsbrat @isabelstardis @shamelessghostwagonwobbler @emma8895eb @taytaylala12 @kmc1989 @h-ngm-ns @hangmans-wingman @marvel-hotchner @nemesis729 @a-lil-bit-nuts @justagirllivinginaghibliworld @mizzzpink @themusingofagothicsoul @potato-girl99981  @a-beaverhausen   @callmemana@joalslibrary @peachiicherries @whiskeyswriting @jkbindigo11 @princess76179 @clancycucumber230 @chaoticassidy @superskittles @cherrycola27 @cheekymcgrath @djs8891 @novastories@urmom-999 @zombicupcake3 @catsficrecs @abaker74 @kmc1989 @hangmanshoney @caidi-paris @i-wanna-be-your-muse @shara-ne @memeorydotcom @memoriesat30@shanimallina87 @whoeverineedtobe @slippinginto-theairwaves

[beyondthesefourwalls]

The Great Escape

Summary: All you wanted on your wedding day was some time alone with your new husband. Luckily for you, Javy was more than game to make an escape and has just the hiding place in mind.

Pairing: Javy Machado x Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 1.4K 

Warnings: Suave Javy and fluff for days. 

Notes: Back on my Javy agenda. Written for @thedroneranger's pick your poison challenge, with one of the prettiest boards I’ve ever seen. I’m so excited to be able to post it on her birthday of all days! 

------

---

You couldn’t contain your giggles as you slipped out of the ballroom, the sound of laughter, clinking glasses, and early 2000’s hip hop quieting as the ornate doors closed. All of your loved ones remained behind it, celebrating and more than halfway drunk from the open bar. But you and Javy craved a moment alone, and you were determined to get it, even if it meant sneaking out in the middle of an orchestrated dance battle Jake had agreed to start on your behalf. 

One hand held the skirt of your dress up as the other was held firmly in his as you hurried down the long hallway, the sound of your heels clicking against the pristine granite floors mixing with both of your laughter. 

“Hurry, hurry, hurry,” you urged, picking up your pace. Your mother hadn’t been far away from you all night, and you knew without a doubt she would notice you missing immediately and go looking for you. Like you thought it into existence, the door to the hotel ballroom opened just as you rounded the corner, Javy skidding in his shiny black shoes as he tried to keep pace with you without losing his grip on either your hand or the chilled bottle of Prosecco he had swiped from the bartender on your way out. You picked up into something closer to a sprint as she started calling your name. 

You made a split-second decision and veered off into a stairwell, the heavy metal door hitting against the walls and echoing in the space. Javy’s body pushed yours into the cold, tiled wall, shushing you quietly even as he struggled to contain himself. You tried to stifle your echoing giggles, hoping to remain hidden. You both held your breath at the sound of clicking heels right outside the door, but once they passed by and didn’t return, you burst into more laughter. 

“Wanna hang out here for a minute?” you asked, leaning against the wall as you caught your breath. Javy looked at you with a warm glint in his dark eyes, his lips curved into a smile just for you. The dim light filtering through the narrow windows cast gentle shadows on his face, and you could see when the look turned mischievous. 

“I have a better idea. Come on, Mrs. Machado. Hike up that skirt, we’re going up.” 

You squealed when he slapped your butt playfully, but the name sent a thrill through you that you didn’t even try and hide. You followed him up the stairs, your dress once again bunched in your hands. By the time you made it to the top, there were tears in your eyes from how hard the two of you laughed as you tripped over the material more than once. 

“Why did I wear a ballgown?” you panted as Javy pushed open the door to the roof. He snorted, and the two of you spoke at the exact same time when you said: 

“Your mother.” 

“My mother.” 

You laughed again as you stepped out onto the rooftop terrace, the cool night air hitting your flushed cheeks and providing a welcome respite from the chaos of the wedding reception. The San Diego city skyline twinkled around you as you took a deep breath of fresh air, taking it all in.  The night breeze tousled your hair as you stood there, reveling in the stolen moment of solitude and embracing the peace that came along with it. It was the first time you had been alone with Javy since you slipped the new piece of hardware on his finger and said I do just a few short hours ago. 

He wrapped his arms around you from behind, the cool bottle of the prosecco still clutched in his right hand chilling you when it bumped against your arm. "Mrs. Machado," Javy whispered against your ear, his voice filled with tenderness. He peppered gentle kisses along your neck, sending shivers down your spine. You tilted your head to the side, savoring the sensation as he continued to shower you with his affection. 

“I love the sound of that,” you admitted freely. 

Javy hummed in response, turning you in his arms so that you were facing him. He looked down at you with that same devastatingly handsome smile you fell in love with the moment you met him. He brushed a kiss across your painted lips, soft and sweet and not nearly enough for what you wanted. “Me too.” He leant his forehead against yours for just a moment, savoring the feeling. When he pulled away, he smirked at you and held up the bottle in his hand. 

“Feel like popping this with me?” 

“God yes,” you nearly moaned. 

His eyes were fixed on yours as he carefully twisted the wire cage off of the bottle. The anticipation in the air was palpable as he held it at an angle, and with a swift motion, he twisted the cork and a loud pop echoed through the night air. Neither of you had taken into account all the running you had done to get to your rooftop destination so when the bubbles frothed over the rim, cascading down onto your hands and his, you both laughed in surprised delight, jumping away from the overflow. 

“Smooth,” you joked, “you’re a regular casanova.” 

Your husband winked dramatically, shaking off some of the excess liquid from his hand. “You know it, baby. To us,” he toasted, taking a swig before handing you the sticky bottle. 

“To us.” 

The taste of prosecco danced on your tongue as you took a sip, savoring both the sweetness and the moment you were having it in. You passed the bottle back and forth as you leant against the railing of the rooftop. Javy pulled you closer, his arm draped around you, pressing your body to his. 

"I can't believe we did it," he said, his voice filled with awe. "We're married now."

You smiled up at him, feeling your heart swell. You couldn’t quite believe it either. "I know. It still feels surreal."

He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, sighing. "I couldn't be happier, Mrs. Machado."

"Me either, Mr. Machado," 

His eyes sparkled with a mix of love and adoration as he leaned in, his lips ghosting over yours in a teasing caress. The taste of bubbles lingered on his breath, intoxicating you even more than what was in the bottle. You melted into his embrace, wrapping an arm around his neck and deepening the kiss. Javy’s hands wandered down your back, his touch igniting a fire within you. You gasped against his lips as his fingers traced the delicate curve of your spine, sending electric currents through your body. The taste of the wine mingled with the heat of your kiss, creating a heady blend that you wanted to bottle up and keep forever.

Time seemed to stand still for a moment, the world around you fading away into a blur of lights and distant laughter. It was just the two of you, the way both of you preferred. 

When your lips finally parted, Javy's eyes locked with yours, full of an intensity that took your breath away. His voice was husky as he whispered against your mouth, “What are the chances we can go down and say our goodbyes and ditch the rest of the party?” 

Your heart raced at the suggestion, unable to resist the allure of being alone with him. But you huffed out a laugh, absolutely knowing better.  “You’ve met your new mother-in-law, right? We probably have ten more minutes max up here before she threatens to call the police and send out a search party.” 

He groaned, cursing under his breath, though you knew it was playful. “Well, you know what that means then.” 

You arched a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, scratching lightly at the back of his neck as you waited for him to elaborate. 

A mischievous smile played on Javy’s lips and he pulled you impossibly closer with a hand on your back while the other covered the one holding the bottle of prosecco, raising it. He took a sip before speaking, the look in his eye wicked in the best of ways. “We have ten minutes to finish this bottle, and I have ten minutes to kiss your lipstick off so that everyone knows exactly what we’ve been up to.”  

You giggled happily just as he kissed you, and you thought the taste of the sparkling wine would never taste as good from a bottle as it did from his lips. 

--------

Main Masterlist

Notes: Happy Birthday, Jay! I hope I did Coyote Casanova justice for you💚

Thanks to @roosterforme and @mak-32 as per usual!

[bellaireland1981]

Babymoon

Summary: You and your husband take a quick beach vacation before becoming a family of three.

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female! Reader

Warnings: Illusions to smut, heavy making out, pregnancy, fluff, Jake being adorable. UNDER 18 DNI

Word Count: 2231 (look at me keeping it quick!)

A/N: Written for @thedroneranger 's Pick Your Poison writing challenge. Inspiration for the fic was Sex on the Beach As always, I do not own the Top Gun Maverick characters but all OCs and Reader insert concepts are my own and storylines are mine. I do not give permission for my work to be translated, copied, reposted to other sites, used in AI generators and sold on any platforms.

Masterlist

“Angel, are you sure you’re not overdoing it?” Jake asked as the two of you made your way down to the beach from your hotel room. “We can relax in the room for a bit or sit by the pool if that’s better…”

At 7 months pregnant, you were getting close to the point of no travel and Jake had surprised you with a last minute “babymoon” down to Mexico. He wanted the two of you to have one last opportunity to be spontaneous and fly off for a romantic getaway before you become parents. 

“Jake, I love you, Stud…” You said, looking up at your husband, a coy smile on your face, “I promise I’m not overdoing it. I just really want some time on the beach with my sexy husband and baby daddy…maybe some sexy time on the beach with my husband.”

“You’re a menace, Angel.” He chuckled, pausing your walk to the beach to steal a quick kiss. “But anything for my sexy pregnant wife” kissing you again, “Beautiful mother of our daughter.”

“Our daughter is going to have her daddy wrapped around her tiny little finger.” You smirked, as you continued toward the beach. 

“Just like her Momma.” He replied, chuckling. “Wouldn’t want it any other way, Angel.” 

He led you to a cabana area he’d rented for you for the day. There were beach loungers set up in front, where you could lay in the sun and soak up the warm rays, but there were also loungers in the cabana to allow you to lay down out of the sun and rest without having to leave the beach. It came complete with full food and drink service from the resort. Your amazing and perfect husband had thought of everything. 

“Before you get all comfortable out there, darlin’ you need sunscreen.” Jake reminded you. 

“Are you worried about me burning…or do you just want a reason to rub your hands all over me in public without the threat of getting arrested?” You teased him. 

“A little of both.” He admitted with a smirk, “I’ll always take any excuse to get my hands on my wife, Angel, you know that… it’s why you’re currently pregnant.”

“Does this mean I’ll be spending a lot of time pregnant over the next five to ten years of our marriage?” You laughed.

“I will happily give you as many babies as you want Angel.” He said, pulling you close, one hand naturally finding its home on your swollen belly, the other behind your head, tilting your head back before capturing your lips in a tender kiss. 

“Let’s see how things go with our daughter first.” You suggested, “So far, she’s a handful just like her daddy.”

“The morning sickness finally eased up.” He reasoned, “And after several talks recently, she’s no longer using your bladder as a punching bag.”

“True.” You acknowledged, “Now she’s using my kidneys and rib cage for soccer practice and I swear she takes joy in giving me major heartburn.”

“I’ll have another talk with her.” He smiled, “But you’re not fooling me. I see you when you don’t think anyone is watching… or listening. You’re loving every moment, kidney shots and all.”

“I really am.” You sighed happily, rubbing your hand over your belly where your daughter was safely growing and developing. “I can’t even describe the feeling… knowing a part of you and a part of me…growing inside me. Getting to feel her move and being this close to her… knowing that once she’s born, I’ll never be this close to her again… I’ll have to share her, I’ll no longer be able to protect her from the world… It’s an incredible thing.”

“It’s pretty damn amazing from this side of things too, Angel.” He said gently, his hand joining yours on top of your belly, “Watching our little girl grow inside of you, knowing I helped put her there… seeing you literally grow a human, OUR human… protecting her, nourishing her, loving her… it about brings me to my knees. You’re already the most amazing momma in the world, Angel. Our little princess is so lucky she gets to have you as her momma. As for protecting her once she’s on the outside… I have zero doubts you’ll be fierce and badass at that. I’ve seen you in action protecting those you love. She’ll have us, and a squad full of uncles and aunts to keep her safe. Our little girl will be just fine.”

“You’re gonna make me cry.” You sniffled, tears threatening to spill over. “Not like it’s hard to do… it’s kinda low hanging fruit.”

“You said it, Angel.” He laughed, “But you’re adorable when you’re all emotional.” 

“I love you, Stud.” You said,  snuggling into your husband.

“I love you too, Angel.” He replied, holding you close. 

After a moment, once the emotions had calmed down you pulled back a bit, “Can you put sunscreen on me now?”

“Absolutely,” He agreed, grinning, “Let me grab the bottle. Sit down on the lounger and I’ll get you all sorted.”

The two of you spent time laying in the sun, you reading a steamy romance novel, Jake reading an updated manual for new equipment to his jet. 

“You know, My Love,” You teased him, “We’re on vacation, you shouldn’t be working.”

“I enjoy learning about my jet, Angel.” He defended himself, “Besides, wouldn’t you rather I know everything there is to know about it so I can be extra safe?”

“You already know that jet down to the last screw.” You laughed, “And I love that you’re thorough, Babe… it makes it a little easier to send you off on missions and deployments because you tackle those the same as your jet and you learn every detail given to you. I love that about you.”

“I will always do everything in my power and control to come home to you and our little girl.” He promised. 

“I know.” You smiled, “And I know that you have amazing squadmates who have your back.”

“They’re alright.” He laughed playfully. Truth was, you knew he loved all of the Daggers and would do anything for them. He’d already been best friends with Javy coming into the Uranium mission that had formed the Daggers, but afterwards he and Bradley had formed an unbreakable bond and a strong friendship. Bradley had even asked Jake to be his best man in his wedding the month before.  “Feel like getting in the water?”

“I could cool off.” You replied, “Going to need help getting up though.”

He set his manual down under his towel so it wouldn’t blow away and reached for your book so he could set it next to his before reaching out to lift you up. You swayed slightly into him, the change in position causing you to feel slightly lightheaded. 

“Easy does it, Angel.” He said, “Are you ok? Do you need to go inside to rest for a bit?”

“No, I’m ok.” You replied, “I just stood too fast. Let’s go into the water, then we can cuddle in the cabana for a bit.”

“Cuddle?” You asked, smirking.

“Behave.” He chuckled, playfully swatting your butt. 

You laughed, taking his hand and the two of you walked to the water. There were some waves but the surf wasn’t overly active. Jake still made sure to keep you close and his hands on you at all times while you were both in the water. You waded out until you were mostly past the break, the water to your chest, but barely above Jake’s belly. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in as close as possible with your very pregnant belly between you. 

You leaned up on your tiptoes, your arms around his neck, pulling him down so you could kiss him. You didn’t hesitate to swipe your tongue over the seam of his lips, seeking entrance into his mouth. His own tongue came out to meet yours, the kiss deepening. He let his hands wander down to your butt, rubbing over your bikini clad cheeks. 

“What are your thoughts on sex on the beach, Angel?” Jake asked, his head dipping down to kiss over your neck and shoulder. 

“Oh my God.. I MISS those amazing little cocktails.” You sighed, “Penny makes the BEST Sex on the Beaches.”

“Angel, I was talking about literal sex on the beach.” He groaned, still trailing kisses over your collarbone, tasting the salt from the ocean water. 

“Pretty sure THAT is how I ended up pregnant, Stud.” You teased him.

“The night after the bonfire?” He asked, lifting his head to look at you, a smirk playing on his lips, “Seriously?”

“The timing is perfect.” You shrugged, “Lord knows I DRANK enough of those sneaky little cocktails that night…”

“I remember.” He said, his voice going husky, dropping deeper, “You suggested we do an experiment to see if actual sex on the beach was as good as the drink.” 

“Well, it looks like it exceeded expectations.” You giggled, pulling his head down to kiss him.

“So, how about round two?” He asked, his hands wandering back down to your butt. 

“I’m way too pregnant to end up with sand in unfortunate places, so how about sex in a cabana?” You compromised, smirking. 

“I think it’s time to head back to shore, Angel.” He replied, scooping you up bridal style and carrying you in towards the shore. 

“Jake!” You squealed, “Put me down! I am way too heavy!” 

“Angel, I can handle carrying my girls just fine.” He promised, “I would never let anything happen to either of you.”

“Such a softy.” You said, letting your fingers run over the wet hair at the nape of his neck.

“Don’t let that get out.” He teased, “I have a reputation to uphold.” 

“The gig is up, Babe.” You laughed, “Everyone knows you’re not really an asshole. As soon as they saw you with Ruben’s kids it was all over.”

He carried you out of the water and over the sand back to the cabana before setting you back on your feet. It had shades that could be pulled down for privacy and to block out more sun, which Jake took advantage of as soon as you got inside the cabana. There was a large sun lounger that looked more like a bed, in the middle of the cabana with small tables set up on each side. With the shades pulled on the sides and the light weight material used as a curtain in the front of the cabana let down, it gave you a little privacy from prying eyes of other resort guests. It was at least a private beach, only open to those staying at the resort. 

“This might have been easier before we were all wet.” You said, winding your arms around his neck as he came back to stand in front of you. “Now our suits are all clingy”

“Hmmm,” He hummed, leaning down to nibble at your jawline before working back towards your ear, whispering “I prefer my wife to be wet and clingy.” 

A shiver ran through your whole body, arousal flooding your system, soaking your already wet bikini bottoms.

“Jake” You moaned, trying to push up against him, as much as your very pregnant belly would allow, “I need you to fuck me.”

“Your wish is my command, Angel.” He replied, guiding you back towards the lounger. He untied your bikini top, letting it fall to the floor of the cabana, making sure to block you from view of the outside world. “Fuck, I love your boobs.”

“Thought you were an ass man, Stud.” You smirked, knowing that your husband had been infatuated with your boobs since you’d become pregnant. They had increased two cup sizes by this point in your pregnancy, and you were told they’d get even bigger once you were breastfeeding your daughter. Jake was intrigued by it. 

“When it comes to you, Angel there’s not a part of your body that doesn’t get me going.” He admitted, flashing his dimpled smile. He helped you to lay down on the lounger. He made sure you were propped up on the many decorative pillows and comfortable, leaning in for a quick kiss, before running his hands down over you, pausing to rest his hands on and gently kiss your bump, before continuing down, pulling your bikini bottoms off on his way.

The look of pure lust and adoration on your husband’s face was enough to give you confidence in your own body and not give in to the negative thoughts that tried to permeate your brain when you looked in the mirror. Your OB said it was normal as your body was rapidly changing, to have the negative feelings or insecurities but reminded you to be kind to yourself and if the thoughts became too intrusive to let her know so she could set you up with someone to talk to. Jake had been at that appointment and had made it his mission afterwards to make sure he knew how absolutely beautiful he found you and how incredible it was that you were growing an entire human. 

“I think you’re overdressed.” You smiled, allowing your eyes to hungrily track over his sun kissed body. “And I believe I was promised Sex on the Beach.”

A/N: There it is! My second ever Jake fic! What do you think??

Taglist:

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[hwanchaesong]

┗🖋️In between fights and smoke / Daydream collides with a poison cloak / Putting nightmares into a tight choke / Fixing it with a lust-filled stroke 📖

🎧: Taylor Swift - I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can)

wc: 2.4k

genre & warnings: angst, sprinkle of fluff, smut, stoner!hee, petnames, weeds & alcohol, kind of like toxic rs, cursing, appearance of other enha members, cunnilingus (f receiving), fingering, slight nipple play, creampie (?), unprotected sex, etc etc mdni

a/n: this is a part of The Tortured Poets Department series. if y'all want, you can read the other album inspired fics of other groups here.

The device shook on your palms, the icy night breeze seeping in your skin, truly, you should've worn a thicker jacket instead of some flimsy cardigan on your way here.

But who could blame you?

Getting a cryptic message out of nowhere, more so if it's about your oh so, loving boyfriend, would make you bolt out of your house even during the ungodly hour of 2:37 am.

You read the text again, and you couldn't help the scowl in your face.

"Get your boy."

You've always wanted to receive the magical three words. Not the vomit-inducing one.

Sighing, you tucked your phone inside your pocket, proceeding to walk into the spacious rustic porch of the eerily quiet house.

No knocks were needed, the owner of the residence opening the door once you're in front, motioning for you to come in.

You did and the first thing that you could think of is the unusual atmosphere of the building. Most of the time, the blaring music and glaring lights would repulse you, but there were none of those today.

Did the party end early?

Before you could ask where he is, the male with you answered your unspoken question.. or questions at that.

"No rave for tonight because we decided on another festivity, down in the basement." he says, giving you a weak smile as he shoves his hands down in his pockets.

"Thank you, Jay." you returned the smile, which he wasn't able to see for he's already heading into his kitchen.

You then sauntered at the said place where you could find the person that you have personally come to pick up.

Entering the area almost made you want to go to the hospital. The smell was revolting, a mixture of burning fronds, sweat, ashes of joints and alcohol invaded your senses and it was nauseating.

You stood there for a minute, scanning the realm of awfulness until your eyes landed on the guy that was supposed to be in bed with you. Cuddling you and whispering sweet nothings to make you sleep but here he is, giggling like a child, blowing out a puff of smoke that paints his lungs black.

"Heeseung." you called, paying no mind to the other inhabitants of the spacious basement, footsteps nearing closer in his figure that was slumped on a sorry ass sofa, "Let's get you home."

His eyes snapped open, craning his neck to peer at you, recognition flashed and his expression lighted up. He threw you a wide grin, patting his lap as an invitation for you to take.

"There's my baby! Look, everyone! My baby is here!" he mused, pointing at you, and for a second you'll dare say that he looks nothing but an angel.

Big bright eyes, squinting just a tiny bit with how wide his grin is. Vermillion tresses frame his cheeks so well, pink pouty lips, and an adorable scrunched up nose.

An innocent one. Your innocent one.

Except you know who, what, and how he is. But you're not one to back down from a challenge. The moment you decide to date him, to let him in your life, you know that you're in for a disastrous ride.

"Really, Y/N? Him?"

"I thought you were wise and smart."

"I wish you luck, dear."

You shook the echoing voices in your head, opting to focus on the current dilemma at hand.

"Hee, let's go. Yeah?" you murmured softly when you're in front of him, attempting to get him out of this hell hole with you.

He whines, pulling you into him out of the blue, that made you yelp, gripping his shirt to steady yourself in his lap.

He dips his face on the crook of your neck, inhaling your sweet, vanilla scent, a stark contrast of the environment he's in for the past few hours.

"My baby smells like cake, delicious." he hums, his hands going over your waist, and you tried your best to get him off you in a lenient manner.

"Go get a room." his friends, Jake and Sunghoon, who are also in the room fake gagged, and Heeseung didn't take that well.

He takes you with him when the annoyance shoots over his veins, hauling you with him and out of the house but not without yelling a playful yet condescending statement.

"At least I'm not like you losers! I actually have a girl that gets my dick wet!"

You kept your mouth shut, the scolding will come later but for now, it's your turn to do the dragging, ushering him into your car so you can finally drive away from here.

Arriving at your own home felt like breathing fresh air, well, the groans of your boyfriend brought you back to reality.

"Lee Heeseung!" you shout in anger, and despite being in a dopamine-incited state, he still has half a mind to be alert when you used his full government name.

"Woah, baby? Why?" he's struggling but manages to come over to you, his hands moving to wrap you in his arms.

You dodged the affection he was about to give, choosing to throw him daggers through your eyes, "Why? Why?!" you shout in pure exasperation.

"You can't just say that! I am not your toy that will 'make your dick wet!' That was so disrespectful!" you imitated his words from earlier with a mocking tone, jabbing at his chest harshly, "I don't deserve that."

His eyes soften, cupping your face and his thumbs caress your cheeks, smoothing your wrinkled features, "Of course you don't. I'm so sorry baby, I was joking with them."

"That wasn't a good joke, Hee. That hurt me." you utter, leaning into his warm touch.

How you hated it when you're this weak for him, then again, this is what you swore to protect and reveal to everyone who judged him early.

They don't know that his calloused hands from all the fighting he did can bring such velvety skinship.

They have no idea that his vulgar way of speaking can actually be so honeyed and gooey if he wants to.

They don't know him like you do. So, it is your mission to show them that a wild man can be tamed.

"I'm sorry, baby," he lifts your face, allowing you to look into his apologetic caramel orbs, "let me make it up to you, hm?"

You stare and nod, because if you're going to be honest, there's no getting out of this.

He presses his lips onto yours in a searing, messy kiss, tilting his head to further deepen it. Your hands cling to his hair, tousling it the more the make-out session gets hotter.

His hand squeezed your left breast over your clothes, causing you to moan and he took that as an opportunity to slide his tongue inside your mouth, licking every corner that he can reach.

Your tongue clashed with his, not for dominance, but for the sole purpose of riling each other up. He moans when you suck on his tongue, unexpected surprise but he loved it nonetheless.

He returned the favor with much zeal, disconnecting from you and the string of saliva broke when he dipped his head to smooch all over your neck. Trailing open, wet mouthed kisses down your clavicle, then biting on your collarbone and sucking on the damage, leaving a purple patch on its spot.

He slowly raises his head, his pointy nose scraping on your mastoid until he reaches your ear, his hands grabbing your ass to bring your lower area to his, making you feel his hard member poking on his jeans.

"Am I doing a great job of making it up to you?" he inquires, like a puppy in need of some validation.

"I think," using your palms to lift his head, giving him an eskimo kiss, "you have to do more."

He smiles, hoisting you in his strong arms and easily manhandling you into the comforts of your shared bedroom, hurling you onto the mattress with matching pecks on your face and lips.

"Guess I'll have to do my best." he murmurs against your lips before all hell breaks loose, clothes tossed everywhere until you're both stark naked.

You gripped his hair tightly when his mouth snaked on your chest, popping a nipple and sucking on it while his left hand played with your other mound, pinching and tugging on it. His right hand slithered down your stomach, passing by your navel until it reached your core.

A gasp was heard from you when he dipped a finger in your wetness, swirling the juices around your labia and his index finger played with your clit in an up and down motion.

He lightly nibbles on your nipple before switching to the other one, giving it the same treatment as he continues his actions on your pussy.

So many sensations all at once and it had you twitching and drenching under him. He's always been good at having you at his mercy when it comes to things like this.

His ministrations came to a halt when you moaned his name. No, he won't let you come if it's not in his mouth.

Heeseung positioned himself in between your thighs, his fingers digging into your plush flesh and spreading your thighs wider, his face so close to your heat but you don't have the time to be embarrassed when he sticks and flattens his tongue out on your pussy.

He licks away your juices, humming in delight with your taste. He's not a man of patience, evident in how he inserts two of his fingers inside, curling it in a relentless pace and it hits the spongy spot perfectly.

"H-hee! Ah!" you mewled, his name is the only thing in your mind. He's so fucking good, your good boy. It shows when he frowns, concentrating on giving you the fitting pleasure to make up for his mistake.

He sucked on your clit harshly, alternating to licking it with his hardened tongue while his digits worked you to oblivion. Soon enough, you've come undone, releasing in his mouth which he graciously received, slurping you clean, only stopping when you have to physically push him away due to overstimulation.

You were breathing heavily, then you steeled yourself when you felt the tip of his manhood poke your hole. Half lidded eyes staring at him, giving him the signal that he can go on and ruin you into his liking.

"bab- fuck! Feel so good." Heeseung groaned when he entered you in one go, your walls clenching around him. When he feels your hips move, he begins to slam into you, docile at first then he hears you beg for more.

How could he even say no to his precious baby?

His hips rams harder and faster, it makes your whole body shake. Every drag of his length accompanies a squelching sound with how wet you are but you couldn't care less, it's the result of what he's making you feel.

Even in your rapture drunken stupor, you can still feel the vein on the side of his cock, sliding so exquisitely inside.

With his large hands supporting your hips, he lifts one of your legs on his shoulder, a completely different position but it allows him to plow deeper into you. Pushing his cock further until it kisses your weak spot, a rather melodious moan erupting from you and that was enough for Heeseung to know that he had hit the jackpot.

He continues fucking into you, your wetness spreading on his balls, thighs and sheets yet it turns him on so much.

He gazes down at you, and my god, a scene worthy of jacking off when he's not with you has been engraved in his brain. You are so fucking divine under him.

Eyes almost rolling in the back of your head, tiny hands grabbing the pillows for dear life, and drool running down your chin. Sensual and messy are everything he had always wanted.

He lurches down to give you a kiss, swallowing your saliva and moans, he detaches and speaks, "I fucking love you."

"I-I Hees-" you tried to return his sentiment, but a coherent sentence isn't available at the moment due to your hazy mind, courtesy of the excellent fucking you're currently receiving.

Heeseung thrusts are becoming erratic, desperate and he knows he won't last long.

"Come on baby, cum with me, yeah?" he mumbles, "Don't hold back." he orders, every word punctuated with a powerful thrust.

You opened your mouth in a silent moan, gushing on his pulsating dick and your tight walls were sufficient for him to release his seed inside, milking him dry.

He pulls out, some of his cum smearing on your womanhood, and he collapses beside you.

Aftercare can be done later, too tired for that, but never for a cuddle. He pulls you close to his heaving body, both of you catching your breath.

"I really am sorry for what I said a while ago." he mutters, rubbing consoling circles on your flushed skin.

"Do you promise not to do it again?" you gazed at him, looking for any signs of deceiving when he agreed without any hesitation, but the only thing that you see is his ethereal halo made out of his hair.

"Hee.. please don't destroy yourself." you flopped back into his sturdy chest, tracing lines on his muscles.

"Of course baby. If I did that then I won't be with you anymore. We can't have that happening."

He chuckles and you do too.

Surely, you don't need any prayers from those people who act like they care about you. They don't have to go out of their way to make their god bless you, because you are already graced with the greatest blessing.

People will judge either way if you tell them that he's your boyfriend. But none of that matters because you have already decided that he is yours, and you are his.

The next time, or should you say, for the future times where you sit inside the bar where he works at, wearing the sexiest dress you could muster that he'll inevitably rip off of you later, you can simply shrug the comments of the nosy dumbasses.

Watching him sing his heart out while playing the electric guitar, you know that he is a force to be reckoned with but he loves you, and you believe that you're the one thing he needs in this cruel world to change.. to improve.

You'll fasten his seatbelt when his journey is turbulent, anchor him when he floats too high, and you will cement him here on earth if he flies away too much.

You will do everything for him, for Lee Heeseung is your heavenly man.

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@ramenoil @shakalakaboomboo

[btsmosphere]

Supercharged | JJK

Chapter 2: Reign of Mercy

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🗲summary: It starts with a blow to the chest that changes your life. When your city’s most celebrated hero pays a visit, it turns out the noble Bolt has no trouble tossing lives aside. Lives that won't be missed. Lives like yours. Seven mysterious and powerful men give you another chance – one that starts to feel more like a curse the moment you meet golden boy Jungkook. The boy who wants you as far from his brothers as he can get you. Is it you he hates, or the blue lightning that now runs through your veins? And could it be his golden light that illuminates your heart when darkness threatens? 🗲this chapter: There’s a whole world here, where your curse can start to bloom…

🗲pairing: jungkook x female reader 🗲word count: 6.1k 🗲genre: angst, action, eventual fluff, enemies to lovers, slow burn, superheroes/villains au, found family 🗲rating: pg15 🗲warnings: violence with superpowers, past attempted murder

a/n: if anyone is wondering, 190811 jungkook is exactly who I have in my head for this fic. so, go google that and thank me later😍😂 also if you saw me change the summary, don't mind me😙 one more thing, I just wanted to clarify that while I say female reader, in this fic it's just the use of she/her pronouns. reader is shorter than Jungkook, but I don't think there's any actual anatomy description going on, in case that's a worry for you!

supercharged playlist

“You’re kidding, right?”

Namjoon made no reply to Jungkook at first, simply sighing. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he moved past the younger man and sank into the sofa. Anyone would have thought he hadn’t heard the irate question.

Eventually he deigned to give a weary reply.

“Jungkook, we can’t pick and choose what happens. And nor could she. So drop it.”

Silent, wide eyes flickered between the two from the kitchen. Jimin’s breath stilled at his lips watching his two brothers while he clutched V’s hand tightly.

Chewing over Namjoon’s response, Jungkook was like a ticking bomb. His gaze never faltered, blazing eyes fixed on his leader.

“Jungkook.”

Only now did his tense form turn, finding Yoongi sat on the sofa behind him, relaxed with one leg slung over the other. No one had seen him come in, but that was normal. He still had his hood up; probably just got back.

Aiming a level look at the youngest, Yoongi said no more.

Exhaling, Jungkook’s shoulders relaxed a little. Simultaneously, a hint of poison leaked away from the air in the room.

Jungkook turned around.

“It was Bolt, wasn’t it?”

“Yes.” Namjoon didn’t try to deny it.

Swallowing, Jungkook stepped back to take a seat by Yoongi. He did not relax into the sofa's comfort, however, staying perched on the edge, alert.

“It’ll be fine,” Namjoon spoke firmly, “I understand you’re not feeling great about it, but you’ll get used to it. A good night’s sleep, and you’ll forget you were ever this mad.”

Jungkook scoffed derisively. Like that was ever going to happen.

“It’s not fair on the kid,” Yoongi weighed in, “she was pretty beat up.”

“See?” Namjoon agreed, as if that was a positive thing. “Never mind how she might look, she was a victim of Bolt too.”

Eyes slipping to the floor, Jungkook stuck his tongue in his cheek.

“You know how we work.”

Namjoon’s words were final. And Jungkook could easily read within them the challenge, daring him to question their methods. Their trust. And he could never do that. Angry as he was, he knew Namjoon was right.

“How you’re feeling is valid,” a softer voice tentatively entered.

As Jimin slid into the spot beside him, shuffling as close as possible with comforting arms enfolding his form, Jungkook gave in. Slouching at last, he leaned into his brother as V found a spot opposite.

“But try to be fair,” Jimin’s gentle reminder sounded in his ear.

Jungkook stayed silent.

Cracking open, the door left a gap just big enough for Jin to talk through. The sound proofing on your safe room made it necessary.

“Good morning! Are you decent?”

He had to resist the panicked urge to enter when nothing answered him for a moment. But he needn’t have worried; you were still asleep. His greeting brought the first ray of light with it to illuminate your room, and soon had you stirring.

Eyelids inching open, you managed a groggy humming sound.

“Can I come in?”

“Huh? Yeah,” you croaked, coming to your senses.

Sitting up among a crumpled pile of blankets, you were in time to receive a glass of water from Jin as he entered. On moving, your head announced its displeasure with a nauseating wave of pain, so you were grateful for the pills he then pushed into your hand.

“How are you feeling?”

Swallowing them down with the cold water, you finally became alert enough to feel embarrassed. In front of you, Jin was professionally dressed in a shirt, smart as he had been the night before. You however, probably looked like the worst hangover in history.

“Not bad…” you muttered.

Examining your hands, there was mercifully no sign of that cursed blue so far. The burn you had sustained was also remarkably faded.

“Up to some breakfast? It would certainly help.”

Not sure how hungry you were, you agreed anyway. He probably knew best.

Stepping outside, he waited while you slipped on some clothes he had brought. They were fairly shapeless, large black things, but you couldn’t exactly complain.

Just as the sweater fell over your head, a prickling sensation burst into your wrists.

Gasping, you dropped the jumper over your eyes to look. To your surprise the blue shocks of light jumped from your fingertips and up the fibres of the garment like static. You braced for the burning feeling like last time, but it never came.

Still not free from the knot of fear which tightened every time the powers leapt out, you stared, dumbstruck at your palms.

“Y/N? Are you nearly ready?”

Blinking rapidly, you looked, startled to the door.

“Sorry! One moment!” you called.

There you stood, fully dressed, yet frozen to the spot. As much as this room felt like a cell, you were safe in the knowledge that your powers would do no damage in here. If you left its walls, you had no way of controlling it.

Fists clenching of their own accord, you didn't notice the gasping sniffles that took over you as you watched the door fearfully.

Clearly, Jin did.

“Y/N?” his voice was markedly more concerned, “I’m coming in.”

A moment’s pause, and he was coming towards you.

A firm grip on your wrists pulled you back to reality. Horrified, you stared wide-eyed at Jin’s hands, expecting at any moment for them to be fried when your powers made themselves known. But he was unafraid, keeping them there without hesitation.

“Y/N.” His steady tone had you raising your eyes to him. “I know this is strange for you. But you won’t hurt any of us, it’s perfectly fine. And besides, food makes everything better.”

Holding his smiling gaze with scepticism, you let your hands fall weakly to your sides as he released them. Wiggling your fingers, you tried to detect any sign of the electricity that now resided there.

With a sigh, you only lagged a few steps when you followed Jin's lead out of the room.

A little way down the corridor, a glorious smell of cooking wafted past. Perhaps Jin had a point.

Emerging into the kitchen, you eagerly headed towards the mouth watering scent. But on rounding the corner, your steps slowed a little. Although the space was mostly empty, providing some relief from the overwhelm of last night, the figures that occupied the place were not ones that built your confidence.

By the stove, flipping bacon in a pan, was a man you hadn’t seen before. But you only caught a glimpse of his profile under white hair, before your eyes fell on the other, seated at the island.

Slowing, you instantly recognised the face of Jungkook, who had looked so angry last time he had seen you. Tentative to get too close, you stopped entirely some steps away from the seats.

Nearer to you, the tv was on, volume low as it displayed the news to two empty sofas. But, eager for the distraction, you let your eyes linger on it to delay approaching the intimidating man in the kitchen.

Shame it didn’t provide the respite you were bargaining for. A shot of a city tower cut directly to a startling blue image, the beaming face of a man otherwise hidden by his mask. Bolt.

Your eyes widened, breath freezing in your body as the blue eyes on screen seemed to pierce through to meet your own. The same blue which had confronted you in the mirror last night.

Gulping, you forced your eyes down to the rolling red text below the images.

BOLT SPARES ATTACKER, REIGN OF MERCY PREVAILS

Something churned, low and dangerous in your gut. The letters leered, imprinting themselves on your retinas as you struggled to believe them.

“…you know, my job is to keep people safe, not to sentence them…” Bolt’s voice carried faintly from the screen, twisting harshly in your ears, “…the authorities are the real heroes, I just lend a hand where I can…”

So Bolt had done the noble thing, and left Kuyang unharmed? Except he had sentenced you. Judge, jury and executioner, all in the blink of an eye. In one throwaway flicker of light.

Taeyeon hadn’t even been so lucky.

You hadn’t even noticed the tension in your frame until the image in front of you suddenly shrunk, dropping to black.

“That’s enough of that.”

Jin threw the remote onto the sofa, giving you a meaningful glance. You avoided it, spinning back onto your original path, having totally forgotten your reason for abandoning it in the first place.

Jungkook had been shovelling food into his mouth, but looked up as Jin rounded the island.

And then he saw you.

Straightening instantly in his chair, his chopsticks hovered in mid-air as his every action halted.

Your brain failed you, leaving you staring right back. It was only after a second that you jerkily prompted yourself to smile. Might as well try to make a good impression.

His brow quirked a little, the only acknowledgment you got. Because not a second later, you were gasping as a shock ran down your arms.

Hurriedly fisting your hands in your jumper, you gritted your teeth. Already subsiding, the familiar feeling was seeping away as a chair screeched against the floor and Jungkook’s tall figure brushed roughly past you.

Turning after him with shock, you could only watch the rigid line of his shoulders as he marched away down the hall.

“Breakfast is served!”

Jin’s chipper call pulled you reluctantly back to the table. Seating yourself, you caught him looking regretfully after Jungkook.

Though the food on your plate was steaming hot and looked delicious, you frowned around at the kitchen. Hadn’t someone else just been here? And what had just happened with Jungkook?

As you began to eat, you eyed Jin’s back. Could you have done something to upset Jungkook? The way Jin had looked ready to run after him reminded you again of the fact you had suddenly intruded, albeit not of your own accord, on what seemed to be an established group.

Fixing your eyes on your plate, you focussed on getting through breakfast. It was admittedly very tasty, and you felt energy return to your body once more.

“Any better?”

Jin’s stubbornly upbeat mood was back, and now you were finally able to offer him a smile and a nod. Feeling full and a little more alive, you turned your attention to Jin who leant towards you from across the table.

“You’re still recovering from yesterday, but we need to do a little bit of work” – you frowned slightly – “it’s not like we want to put you in full training, but Joon reckons you would appreciate being able to control your powers a little.”

Though you nodded, your frown deepened.

“Training?”

“Ah.”

That was all Jin said before standing, leaving you no option but to follow him. Abandoning the kitchen, you hurried to his heels and walked, confused as ever, back down the corridor away from the main space.

However, this time, you passed by the door to your small room. There was little variation in scenery as you went further down the corridor. You found yourself near enough tripping over Jin’s heels when he stopped in front of the final door that ended the hallway. Plain and dark like the others, it was like a black hole, pulling you towards it.

Looking up at Jin, you tore your eyes away from his hand where it rested, hovering on the handle. His mouth had drawn itself into a flatter line, smile erased in favour of a serious stare.

“The others are probably in there already, so… just stay near.”

And then he flashed a smile, as if he had been inviting you in for tea.

With no more time to worry about what on earth he meant by that, you were greeted with the door opening and an instant cacophony of sound from beyond it.

Eyes widening, you forced newly tense muscles forwards. Jin’s reminder to ‘stay near’ pressed close on your mind as he disappeared into the dim space beyond.

A thin staircase curved and led you downwards. When the door shut, it cut off no light. In here, flashes bounced off dark walls, air cracking as it was tossed around.

Coming to the base of the stairs, you looked over a long room. It resembled a gym, a couple of benches and punching bags pushed against the outside walls and large square mats on the floor. Sure enough, as Jin had said, some of the boys you had met the previous day were dotted along it.

As you stopped beside Jin, who waited by the steps, another spark, like lightning, burst across the far end of the space. Gold sliced through the air in a thick, powerful beam, veins darting into the air.

Just as quickly, it was gone.

“Jungkook has the most similar powers to you,” Jin’s voice, low in your ear, “which is why we would have him teach you, but… I don’t think that’s best, right now.”

He moved into the space without elaborating. Though your feet carried you with him, you were occupied by squinting across at Jungkook. He hadn’t noticed you yet. He was facing away, and now he rolled his shoulders out, shaking hair from his face, and raised his arms again.

In the blink of an eye, vibrant gold shot from his palms, towards a sort of metal disk on the wall opposite him.

“Look out!”

Your gaze at Jungkook was severed as a tug came on your arm.

In your distraction, your feet had stilled, and now you stumbled towards Jin and out of the path of a medicine ball which slammed into the wall with a dull thud. Gulping, you watched it fall heavily to the ground, not even bouncing.

“Sorry!”

Snapping your jaw shut, you found the source of the apology.

Chest heaving and pink hair plastered to his forehead, was the man that had smiled at you last night. He shot another dazzling grin now, as if he hadn’t just sent a weighted ball shooting at where your head had been.

But as your eyebrows raised, he lifted a hand and suddenly the ball floated up from its resting place on the ground. The next moment it was flying back towards him.

Flattening his hand, the ball stopped and stayed hovering a few inches above his palm.

You must have failed to hide the shock on your face. The moment he looked over to you, he burst out laughing, eyes creasing. And you couldn’t be sure – his eyes were obscured after all – but they might have glowed pink for a moment as you watched. The ball never moved, seemingly fixed in place in mid-air.

“That’s Jimin,” Jin muttered, then raised his voice, “get back to it!”

Laughter subsiding into a bold grin, Jimin snatched the medicine ball from the air and turned away.

Close behind Jin, you made more effort to stay with him this time, eager not to find yourself in the path of any more flying things.

Further along, the wall gave way to an opening. A similar room lay beyond, square this time. Peering around the corner, a familiar blond zoomed across your vision. But watching the person, you could barely believe it was the same cheery Hope who had welcomed you yesterday.

This room had more equipment, ropes descending from the middle of the ceiling, as well as bars and hoops filling the floor. And currently Hobi was way above your heads, making easy work of a rope. Your eyes nearly popped out of your head when he leapt from it with zero hesitation.

A second later, he landed securely on the wall, grasping small climbing holds you hadn’t noticed. They were black just like the walls, only noticeable because he was now clutching onto them.

Pulling himself up, he launched once again into the air, kicking off the neighbouring wall into a somersault. You had barely scooped your jaw off the floor when he landed on a lower platform and dropped out of sight behind it.

“You know Hob-ah already,” Jin said conversationally. His light tone sounded more like he was showing you around an art gallery, not that you had just seen his friend performing death-defying stunts.

Rushing once more to keep up with your guide, your eyes never settled. They darted from him to the surroundings, not having time to look more at the flash of purple from across the room or the white-haired man slumping onto a bench near Jungkook.

“So this-“ you panted, “this is training?”

“Yep!”

“You… you all train with your powers?”

A nod.

You had reached the end of the gym now. A couple more doors led on; where, you could not guess. This place seemed like a maze. You didn’t even know whether you were underground or not at this point.

Sticking close to Jin, you couldn’t help but shrink back as you passed Jungkook. He was a few strides away, but as you expected, that venomous glare fixed itself back on his face the moment he saw you.

Sparks crackled by his fingertips, drawing your eyes. Was he trying to intimidate you?

Brow sinking and nostrils flaring, you fixed a stare right back at him. You hadn’t spoken to him once! What could his problem be? As you glared, a flicker of gold darted across his irises.

But then you had apparently reached your destination, as Jin opened one of the doors and you were led away, gaze warring with Jungkook until the last moment.

Once you turned back to Jin, you found him a way down the new hallway. Quickening to catch up, you frowned at the back of Jin’s head.

“What… what power do you have?” you asked tentatively.

In front of the next door, Jin stopped, making you do the same. A soft chuckle left him, his face good-humoured as he turned to you as if you had just told a joke. Shaking his head, his eyes turned back to the door you waited at.

“Me? No, I don’t have any powers.”

And then he was rapping at the door.

“One moment!” came a call from inside.

“Except maybe keeping Namjoon-ssi organised,” Jin winked at you then.

Too startled to form any kind of response, you hadn’t so much as laughed before the door was pulled open. Jin swiftly left as Namjoon smiled in greeting and stood back to let you into the room.

Swallowing, you stepped into the space. It was fairly unremarkable, grey walls with a plain desk and a couple of chairs in the middle.

You paused a few steps in, but now Namjoon strode to the desk. Following, you sat opposite him. A tension had seeped into your frame and now you eyed him warily as he made himself comfortable, a welcoming smile on his face.

“I’m sure Jin told you,” he began, “we don’t expect you to do anything with your powers just yet. But it will make things easier for you if you can control them a little. Is that okay?”

You nodded.

Taking you in for a moment, Namjoon was silent. Then he sat back and spread his arms.

“I want you to summon them.”

“What?”

Your protest was instant, but you got no further.

“If you can summon them, that level of control will help you to suppress them as well,” Namjoon explained calmly, finger raised to quell your complaints, “not to mention that by using your powers, it prevents the need for them to burst out uncontrolled as well.”

“But… I don’t know how to summon them,” you spoke quieter, hanging your head.

The scrape of his chair brought your eyes up again. An encouraging nod your way had you standing as well.

“Hold your hands out.”

Still hesitant, you did it anyway. He seemed to have no issue with the fact he would be directly in your line of fire if you actually succeeded.

“Okay. I would have liked to ask Jungkook to do this with you, since his powers are most like yours. I don’t know exactly what your powers feel like, so you’ll have to think about that yourself. Can you imagine how it felt when you used them?”

You chewed your lip as you tried to recall. It hadn’t been pleasant, you knew that. A sort of itching, tingling sensation – though at first it had been worse, like a burning.

You didn’t want to feel that again.

“Got it?” he asked.

Nodding weakly, you listened to the next instructions.

“As a starting point, try to picture the feeling. Hopefully they should respond. Really focus, and when they do, try to sustain it for a couple of seconds. You should be able to feel the core, where the power is flowing from.”

You blinked. You hadn’t really understood any of that, but you took a deep breath anyway.

Letting your eyes slide closed, you tried to remember precisely the feeling of your powers. Not that you wanted to feel the electricity claw its way down your veins, or burst from your fingertips.

Nonetheless, you willed the fire to unleash itself.

It must have sensed your reluctance, though. Nothing came.

Dropping your arms after a few more moments, you sent an apologetic glance to Namjoon. But he didn’t look disappointed in the least like you had imagined he would.

“It almost never works the first time,” he said. “Keep trying.”

Biting down on your lip, you resigned yourself and raised your hands again.

“If it helps, there’s nothing to be afraid of,” he kept talking, “you won’t hurt me, or damage anything. In fact, you can actively try to hit me if you want. Imagine I’m someone you hate!”

His dimpled grin made it hard to imagine him as an enemy you would enjoy frying with lightning. Focussing again on the non-existent feeling in your arms and hands, you tried to come up with some sort of motivation.

Your first thought was Bolt.

You had only seen him for a few minutes, but it had been enough for him to rule your life out as insignificant. The single thoughtless shock of blue could well have ended your life – nearly did.

A sharp flicker of heat made your eyes fly open. At the same moment, an exclamation from Namjoon.

For a split second, blue had bloomed in your palms, but it had slipped away before you could grasp it.

“That was good,” he encouraged, “a bit longer next time.”

Breathing heavily, you shut your eyes again, the sensation more present in your mind now. Your anger at Bolt had helped, but the memory was so fleeting it couldn’t sustain the feeling.

Taking a steadying breath, you straightened your arms in front of you. You wanted to do this. Strangely, the next face that cropped up was that of Jungkook. Glaring whenever he saw you, he seemed to resent your presence.

Maybe he didn’t want you there? Didn’t think you belonged?

You would show him. You wanted to do this. If you could control your powers, he would have no reason to look down on you.

Gritting your teeth, you looked the inevitable pain right in the face, challenging it to come out.

Like a floodgate opening, you felt a heat expand in your chest, energy flowing down your arms. When your eyes opened, they were met with a beam of light as it exploded out from your hands.

Without noticing it, your jaw had dropped. The bright blue light you had so quickly come to despise spilled confidently from open palms. Very quickly, the discomfort of electricity in your veins faded, nothing a but a slight warmth to indicate your power.

Around you, you vaguely noticed a deep red glow hanging in the air. Made of light, the cage-like structure stretched from the floor and was containing the lightning you were creating.

On the other side of it, Namjoon stood unharmed, your power dissipating, melting in mid-air before it could harm him.

“Stop,” he now told you, voice slightly raised.

Blinking as spots bleached themselves into your vision, you tore your eyes from the light that had hypnotised you. How did you make it stop?

“Make the feeling go away,” Namjoon said, “the opposite of what you just did. You control these powers.”

You didn’t exactly feel that was true. Arms beginning to tremble, you desperately scrambled to shut it off. It felt warm, so you tried to think of cold, creeping up your arms…

The beams of light sputtered.

Breathing in, you clenched your fists around the power. You could tell it was stemming from your chest, and tried to focus on shutting it off. It felt much like swimming upstream, counter-intuitive as you had to forcefully reign in the feeling that suddenly felt natural.

Holding your breath, you screwed your eyes shut.

Your powers pushed back, wanting to be free. But you dug your heels in, getting the odd sensation that you were backed up against a door that didn’t want to shut.

But the warmth was receding, the stream of energy down your arms thinning.

Namjoon was repeating your name. You had to stop.

All at once, like a candle blown out, the light was gone. All the heat snuffed out, the barrier in your chest blockaded.

Gasping, you fell forwards, stumbling until your arms braced against the desk. Before now you hadn’t noticed the sweat breaking out on your forehead, nor the exertion making you heave for breath.

The red cage dissolved around you, a flash of crimson dying in Namjoon’s eyes.

“Good, well done,” he was saying, a chair being thrust under you. Sinking gladly into it, you still leaned heavily on the table.

“That was good,” he repeated, a glass of water making its way into your hand, “I won’t make you do more now. But it was a start.”

Panting, you raised your eyes as you lifted the glass to your lips. The water was welcome since you felt like you had just run the length of the city. Wrangling your powers to your will was difficult, but you didn’t know what you had expected.

A sharp chime rang out.

Starting, you saw Namjoon’s gaze snap to the tabletop, where a screen had lit up. A small circle and a name popped up, but he swiped it quickly away, the screen’s light dying the next second.

But you frowned. You could have sworn that said-

“Apologies,” he spoke, standing up, “business calls. Is it alright if you rest outside? You can find your way back when you’re ready. We have no more demands to make of you for a while.”

And so you followed him to the door, being left alone soon after.

You looked each way down the plain corridor outside. Letting a breath out, you resolved to at least find a seat before collapsing with exhaustion, so you set off, feeling a little lost. So far you hadn’t really been left alone here, always being shown the way.

But it was simple enough, only a straight path to the large training room you had already seen.

It was emptier now. Someone was evidently still training as you could hear noise, but it came from out of sight in one of the adjoining spaces. Otherwise, the place was now deserted, leaving you free to sink onto the nearest bench.

Limbs feeling a little shaky, you gladly took the weight off them and slumped back against the wall.

You were unsure how long you spent staring into space, catching your breath. That had been tiring, so much effort expended for relatively little result. You supposed you should be proud that you had achieved some level of control over the powers, but you still felt no safer. If they were to surge again, you were no closer to being able to hold them off with any ease, nor to summon them.

The only thing you were sure of was that the energy from breakfast had quickly been chased away, and the prospect of ever getting up again was distinctly unappealing.

“Hey!”

The cheery call pulled you from your thoughts. At some point the sounds from the next room had ceased, outside your notice, and now Hope was walking from the training room.

Having seen you, he changed course and was heading your way. The sight of his sweat-soaked hair and reddened face reassured you for a moment – you weren’t the only one tired. But this only comforted you for a split second before you remembered the sorts of stunts he had been doing, while you had only half succeeded in your beginner attempt.

“First training session?” he asked, thousand-watt grin never fading.

“If you could call it training,” you half-heartedly chuckled.

“Ah, you’ll be great in no time!” As he drew up to you, you finally mustered the strength to stand up, joining him to a clap on the shoulder. Taking in your dejected state, he offered a sympathetic smile. “Tiring tho, hmm?”

“You could say that.”

“Well, I know what you need! Some good food will pick you right up.”

You couldn’t say you disagreed, and put all your remaining energy into getting up the stairs and to the kitchen while Hobi talked on happily.

“I’ll get us something,” he told you once you were there.

Infinitely grateful for his offer, you slid into the closest seat and resisted the urge to face-plant the table. Instead you leaned on your elbows, watching idly as he grabbed plates from the cupboards.

“Ah! Y/N! How was it?”

A new addition rushed to the kitchen, familiar pink hair approaching as Jimin took a seat beside you. You looked back into a bright smile as he sat expectant.

Laughing drily, you looked at the countertop.

“I don’t think I’m a natural.”

Tilting his head, he pouted a little at your response and lifted a hand to rub your shoulder comfortingly.

“It’s always tough to start with,” he nodded, “but the beginning is the hardest. Don’t push yourself.”

“Yeah, we can’t all be Jungkook,” Hobi laughed. He returned to the table with two plates of sandwiches, pushing one under your nose. Jimin quickly turned his attention to pout at Hope, who rolled his eyes and shoved the other plate towards the pink-haired boy before returning to prepare another for himself.

As desperate as you had been a moment ago for some food, your curiosity was piqued.

““Be Jungkook”? What do you mean?”

“Our golden youngest,” Jimin explained, taking a large bite of his meal before adding, “for more than one reason.”

“It’s seriously unfair,” Hobi spoke over his shoulder, “the kid can do anything he sets his mind to. Best pupil Joon’s ever had.”

Shutting your mouth, you sank a little in your chair. Jimin was buried in his sandwich, and Hobi in the kitchen, leaving you to pick at your own plate. But you only bit your lip. So Jungkook was some kind of prodigy?

You sighed, neglecting your food entirely. It made you feel even worse about your terrible performance and lack of skill. And here you were, thinking that you would be able to prove yourself to the man who seemed to hate you.

Only when a flickering light distracted you did you look up from your hopelessness.

The kitchen light blinked off entirely for a brief moment, returning to reveal Hobi whirling around with a shout.

“That’s my lunch! Make your own, this is already my second try!”

Frowning, you looked around trying to spot who Hope was berating. Nothing.

While you sat perplexed, the blond suddenly leapt across your vision, jumping high enough to hop from the kitchen table and towards the sofa. As he landed, another figure became abruptly visible, falling as if emerging from a patch of shadow.

Beside you, Jimin guffawed loudly as you gaped. Hobi had knocked the mysterious figure from seemingly thin air, and now deftly swept a plate of sandwiches from their hands, the whole while straddling them to keep them pinned on the sofa cushions.

“Nice try!”

A muffled ‘get off’ accompanied flailing arms, vague attempts at whacking their attacker.

Heaving himself from the couch, Hobi walked victorious to the counter and began, at last, to eat. Behind him, a white-haired young man sat up, ruffling his dishevelled hair as a hood fell from his head.

He turned around with a sheepish smile, shuffling back to the kitchen.

“Be gentle, Hob-ah,” he grumbled on his way past, though there was no malice behind it.

Hobi only laughed loudly in return, turning as the white-haired man came past and playfully hit at his shoulder.

“You’re all brats!” Hope claimed loudly, waving half a sandwich in the air. He was laughing so hard you were concerned for a moment he would fall clean off the chair.

As yet, the new man hadn’t noticed your blatant staring. Luckily, your attention was diverted before he could see your saucer-like eyes. Unluckily, it was diverted by the entrance of a certain Jungkook.

Jimin had been the first to stop laughing. Looking around, you became aware of the tall figure hanging back in the shadows on the other side of the living room.

The raucous joy that had filled the kitchen froze over very quickly as the other occupants noticed him. Cold, piercing eyes scanned over the space, but undeniably landed on you. Struck dumb, you merely stared back as his calculating gaze bored into you.

Setting his jaw, his gaze snapped away, fleeting over the rest of the room for a moment before he turned and left.

Sliding from his chair, Jimin dropped his remaining lunch back onto his plate.

“Jungkook-” he called, shoulders drooping when there was no response. With a sigh he followed after the younger man.

You watched him go, and then watched the empty doorway he had left through. When at last you turned slowly back to the kitchen, Hoseok sent you a grimace.

“Sorry it’s taking him a while to warm up,” he said, as if that was consolation. It didn’t seem as if Jungkook was trying to ‘warm up’ to you at all.

You produced no reply, but were saved the trouble as the white-haired man joined you. For the first time, he looked at you, eyes roaming over your face, still surely littered with scrapes from the previous night.

“You look better than yesterday,” he commented.

You blinked.

“I’m sorry… have we met?”

“Yoongi,” he nodded, sinking onto a chair. Then, “you should eat that.”

That had hardly explained anything, but you complied anyway, picking up your food. Once you had finally finished your sandwich, the quiet was disrupted by Namjoon entering. Nodding once at you, he headed across to the kitchen.

Seeing him again, you were reminded of the ‘business’ call that had taken him from you earlier on. Eyes lingering on his back as he busied himself grabbing a mug and plate from the cupboards, your curiosity swelled within you. You were sure you had seen who was calling him. Though your life before Bolt – and all that happened since – seemed so distant, you couldn’t help your keen interest.

On the edge of your seat, you chewed on your lip until you couldn’t hold it any more.

“How’s Kuyang?” you blurted.

The others’ eyes snapped to you. Namjoon froze.

Slowly, he turned around, faint frown lining his face. You never dropped his questioning stare.

“He’s… fine,” he spoke.

“Sorry,” Hope looked lost, “you know Kuyang?”

Before you could do more than nod, Yoongi spoke up too.

“He’s fine? How did he get away from Bolt?”

“That’s not important.” Namjoon strode across the kitchen, “but how do you know Kuyang?”

“I was his secretary.”

You had hoped your honesty might prompt Namjoon to reciprocate, but no such luck. His reason for involvement with Kuyang was promptly forgotten. Hobi gasped at your news; Yoongi’s eyes widened slightly as if something was dawning on him.

But Namjoon beat him to it.

“That explains why you were hit by Bolt,” he said.

“We thought you were just a bystander that got unlucky,” Hobi chipped in.

Just as you opened your mouth to return to your original question, Namjoon turned away from the table. Swiping his food from the counter, he marched away.

Halfway across the room, he paused with a look over his shoulder. Maybe he would give in and tell you at last?

“I suggest you rest,” he told you instead, “Jungkook is going to help you practise some more tomorrow.”

Thank you for reading!! I'm so looking forward to hearing what you thought🥰

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[hihomeghere]

Charles fluff and maybe even a tad bit of angst given the prompts, who knows, but please write prompt 48 and 64 for Charles I will literally die of joy plus we need more fluffy fics of him <333

- ੈ✩ 🍡 ‧₊˚

Word count : 1230 Warnings/tags : love confessions, fluff, cursing Prompts : #48, You make me want things I can't have #64, I'm not sure what to do with these feelings for you hope you enjoy, smooches!

Charles was an enigma. Joining the gang nearly seven months ago, he seamlessly fit into the band of outlaws. He kept his head down, taking it upon himself to complete tasks before Miss Grimshaw lost her mind about them. 

Like a well oiled machine he moved around camp, fixing what needed to be fixed, getting done what needed to be done. Whether that be fixing a wagon wheel, or carrying bales over to the horses. He did it without complaint and unprompted. 

He moved like a shadow, silently, not speaking unless spoken to first. Even at that he would normally only respond with one word answers, yes, no. You had been wary of him at first. Not appreciating his almost cold presence. Although the longer you got to know him you saw through his standoffish persona, seeing the warm, passionate man underneath. To others he may have seemed unwelcoming, a puzzle that wasn’t worth solving. But you had always liked a challenge.

You couldn’t say what had first drawn you to him. It wasn’t like a moth to a flame, no. It was gradual, like a ship pulled towards a lighthouse. Something about him was like a beacon, calling to you across the stormy seas of life. Perhaps it was the way the morning light fell against his dark locs, deep golden beams cutting through his silky strands. Or the way the firelight made his umber skin glow as he sat around the fire. Always offering his assistance when anyone seemed to struggle. His near obsidian eyes piercing your very soul every time they found yours. You picked him apart piece by piece, longing for him to bear the most intimate parts to you.

Or maybe it was because he played so damn hard to get. You thought you were being obvious in your affection. If it was anyone else, even someone as daft as Sean would have realized your intentions.

Instead, when you asked for him to accompany you to the general store, or if he wouldn’t mind your company around the fire, he would only give you a small nod. It was infuriating. Either he was too kind to reject your advances, or he seriously couldn’t see how much you cared for him.

But you were not a woman to give up so easily, you doubled down your efforts. You would go out of your way to interact with him. Damn near running to grab a seat near him whenever you heard him start to play the harmonica. Your eyes constantly searched for him at camp, which did earn you a scolding or two when you were supposed to be doing chores. It was well worth Miss Grimshaw’s tongue lashing every time.

How were you supposed to focus when he would bring that axe down, his arms glistening with sweat. Or when his skillful fingers fashioned poisoned arrows, grinding up the Oleander he had carefully picked. 

He was kind, thoughtful with a dry sense of humor that never failed to make you laugh. You would consider him a friend even if you wanted something more. The thought that you could ruin what you had between the two of you, just because of your traitorous heart, ran a chill through you. A few times you had suspected he might feel the same, but nothing would come from a lingering glance or his fleeting touch.

Any time you had a free moment you would come up with something to talk to him about. Karen and the other girls had taken to teasing you. Although their words caused heat to flood your cheeks, you knew they weren’t wrong. You were sweet on him. Perhaps you weren't as clear in your feelings as you hoped, perhaps you needed to bite the bullet and just come clean about your feelings.

“Charles, do you have a moment?” You asked, giving him a small smile. Hoping your calm demeanor would hide the anxiety building under the surface. Butterflies erupting in your stomach as his dark eyes found yours.

“For you, always.” He nodded, setting down the piece of wood he was whittling. You discreetly wiped your sweaty palms off on your skirt as he got to his feet. “Lead the way.”

The two of you walked down to the sandy shore near camp. Staring out at the rippling surface of Flat Iron lake. 

“Charles I-“ you bit your lip, the words getting caught in your throat as you looked up at him. “I have to tell you something.”

“Alright…” His tone was apprehensive as he looked at you.

“I…” You picked at your fingers, sinking slightly into the sand below your feet. “I care for you.” You said raising your eyes to meet him. 

His face was near emotionless other than the small furrow of his brows. 

“I care for you and-“

“Don’t.” He cut you off, his jaw clenched as his hands landed on his hips. “Don’t say anymore.” You swallow thickly, trying to get past the lump that’s growing in your throat. Your heart sinking like a stone into your stomach.

“I just- I don’t know what to do with these feelings for you.” You said softly, his rejection stinging like a slap to the face. He squeezed his eyes shut, like your words were physically paining him.

“Damn it you-“ He sighed, shaking his head, “you make me want things I can’t have.”

“What?” You asked, your brows knitting together as you stared at him. 

“You. You make me want you and I- I can’t have you.” He huffed, running a hand through his hair. He wanted you. Your mouth fell open, stunned to silence by his confession. He let out a frustrated sigh, turning to walk away from you. You reached out, wrapping your hand around his wrist.

“Why the hell not?” You asked, shaking your head.

“Y/n, look at me. Look at us. We’re from two different worlds and I won’t- I won’t subject you to my suffering.” He finished, anguish shining in his eyes. 

“When have we ever played by the rules?” You scoffed lightly, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I don’t care. I don’t care where you come from, I just care about you. Who you are.” You raised your hand slowly, giving him all the time to pull away. You cupped his face, running your thumb over his scarred cheek. “I- I’m falling for you Charles.” You admitted.

“Damn it.” He sighed, his eyes shut tight as he looked down. As though he was wrestling with himself, eventually one side won. His eyes raised to meet yours, nearly taking your breath away as he caught your gaze. 

His hand wrapped around the back of your neck as he crashed his lips against yours. You squeaked, your body tensing before you melted into his embrace. Your fingers threading through his hair as you pulled him close.

The two of you parted for air, his forehead resting against yours. “You have no idea how hard this has been, trying to avoid you, ignore you, your touches,” He mumbled against your lips. “You’ve driven me crazy.” A smile spread across his lips.

“Drove you crazy? I was suspecting you might just be oblivious.” You chuckled breathlessly, shaking your head as you cupped his cheek. He laughed, the sound rumbling through his chest. 

“Not oblivious, just a fool.”

[blues824]

I see your love for trey and have a challenge the challenge is to write a fic inspired by this picture I'm not going to add anything else its your choice.

Have fun 😊

Gender-neutral reader. Yandere Trey. I do not condone this behavior in real life.

Trey Clover

“I know that this situation isn’t ideal for you, darling, but surely you can understand why this had to happen?” The voice sounded familiar. But you didn’t want to believe it.

“Darling? Are you not going to answer me? Your husband?” You could feel the ring on your finger, but he was not your husband. He was delusional.

“You aren’t my husband.”

You could hear his chuckle, but you couldn’t see him. He was smart: he blindfolded you. Trey let out a sigh of amusement before he picked something up and started walking towards you. You thought that this would be the end, but he stopped right in front of you.

“You know, I knew you were the one when I saw how tenderly you treated Deuce. But, it seemed that the two of you were getting a bit too close. So, I decided to remind you who was the one that you truly love. I’m not going to hurt you, but you will stay here until you remember that you are my spouse.”

It was hard trying not to cry, but you were terrified. Would you never see your friends or family again? How long would you be stuck here? Maybe the Headmage was to blame here. If he had found you a way home, you wouldn’t be stuck with the crazed version of Trey.

Then, you heard the sound of a utensil scraping across something like a plate.

“I baked something for you, sweetheart. I will have to thank Rook for the advice. Open wide.”

From the smell, you could tell that it was a tart. Most likely strawberry, considering the nature of his dorm. But the mention of Pomefiore’s Vice Housewarden made you queasy. Was the tart poisoned? You jumped when you felt the dessert pressed against your lips.

“Mm-mm”, you shook your head in refusal, which in turn knocked the bite-sized piece drop to the floor.

“Love, if you don’t eat then you won’t feel good. Oh, fine. I guess I’ll have to force you to eat it”.

He wrenched your mouth open as he quickly took up another piece of the tart onto the fork in his hand and he quickly shoved it into your mouth. What you figured out was that the treat was laced with a love potion.

“You will soon see that you do love me, just as I love you, my dear.”

[melodymunson]

Kurt Kunkle x fem reader one shot- rock you like a hurricane

Word count: 3.9K

Ao3 link

shoutout to @steveslittlesunflower & @djoekeeryy for beta-reading my rough draft of this fic!

And thank you to my good friend and roleplay partner Dana for being my inspiration for writing some of this. She role plays Kurt Kunkle better than anyone else ever could! 💖

warnings: anal sex, rimjob, prostate massage, oral (male & female receiving), pegging, blowjob, eating pussy, rough sex p in v. Dark fic. Violence and harsh language. Knife kink.

As Kurt's #1 fan, you go out of your way to meet him and drive Spree with him. You go on to commit violent acts together and depravity. You show virgin Kurt the time of his life and he has all of his sexual firsts with you.

If you're not documenting yourself, it's simple; you just don't exist. -Kurt Kunkle's philosophy

When you met Kurt, you were at the Taco Stand in Los Angeles. His order was the same as yours, Taco truck's most famous burrito and Carnita asada fries. While waiting in line for your food at the truck, he told you about his online persona and account Kurtsworld96. Of course, you followed him. Although he claimed he was into doing porn and making adult content, you didn't believe him. Kurt was pretty good as a streamer, even if he seemed a little crazy. Part of his allure was his big brown eyes and his charisma. At first, he couldn't put his finger on it but he realized you were a comedian who did some shows at the Joke Box. The car he drove was pretty nice and you found out he did Spree as a career. You took him up on his offer of getting a ride. Soon after that, you exchanged numbers. The water bottles in his car were a decoy and he couldn't fool you. It was obvious he made them watertight with glue and made them airtight after injecting the water on the label so the customers would get poisoned. You told him you knew, and he simply laughed and agreed with you before telling you he wouldn't let you drink it, anyway. His live streams could be intense, but something about him always made you want to keep your eyes on the screen. One day, his streaming turned into doing live kills. Most of the comments ranged from "That can't be real" to "You are a total sociopath." You still didn't care, and you wanted him anyway, regardless. Soon after that, you gamed pretty often with him. It was a lot of fun. Sure, he sometimes made crude or weird comments about the game, but you just felt captivated by the way he talked and how he had such a way with words. "I'm gonna fuck you. Gonna fuck you so hard." That is what he told you as you were gaming. It turned you on and you challenged him to prove it, so one day he promised he would…

The ride to your place from your work was great with Kurt, besides his awful taste in music. You made him change the station to rock and soon you got him into Ozzy and Buckcherry. Another person requested his Spree services, and you told Kurt it was fine. Once the guy got picked up, he almost immediately became a problem. He couldn't stop saying the most sexist and vile shit that was racist. Kurt had talked a bit with you about going after someone together and killing them. This guy was the type that deserved it. As he did his livestream, he drove to a very secluded part of the outskirts of LA and stopped the car. The pissed-off racist dude complained about being in the wrong place, but you and Kurt weren't listening even as his rant became a tirade about stupid crap. Not thinking twice about it, Kurt took the drill in his car and turned it on, drilling it through the guy's head. Taking out the knife you had, you stabbed him repeatedly. Dragging him out of the car, you threw his lifeless body into the woods. Now that you were all covered in blood together, you cleaned up as best you could with towels and went back to your place to shower.

Kurt always had his camera around filming everything around him. Now that you were at his place, his camera was still rolling but not a livestream. He promised to turn off the feature as long as he could film offline because you promised him the kinkiest shower ever. With the video camera running, you stepped into your shower with a clear shower curtain and started the water. There was so much blood everywhere. As you cleaned up, you washed each other's bodies. Seeing you like this made Kurt feel so lucky. It was the first time he ever showered with a woman. Watching porn and jerking off was all he had before he met you. Some of the adult films he watched helped him understand more about the female anatomy and giving pleasure. His day was about to get even better as you knelt in front of him and stroked his cock. He let out loud gasps as he figured out what you were about to do to him. The tip of his cock was flush and pink. Taking him into your mouth, you sucked on just the tip and tapped it against your tongue. Already you loved his taste and as you took more of him into your mouth, he held your hair back for you. The taste of his cock was becoming addicting as he called you his 'good girl' and looked down at you with lust and wonder in his eyes. It was his first blowjob, and he was so glad it was you giving it to him. Rocking his hips into your mouth, you swallowed more and more of him, taking him inch by delicious inch until you were swallowing his cock whole as you massaged his prostate. Occasionally you and Kurt would look over into the camera, him smiling, and you waving. The crescent-shaped marks you were leaving on his hips made him cry out even louder for you and your mouth.

"Fuck, baby girl. Gonna cum. Want to cum so bad in your mouth," he growled as his thrusts with his hips became more forceful. Having you take his cock to the back of your throat repeatedly drove him wild. You breathed through your nose as you let him fuck your face roughly.

Suddenly he came inside of your mouth as he pulled out a little, feeling his cock twitching. You happily swallowed all of it, then kissed up his body until your lips met in a deep and passionate tongue-tangling kiss.

"Now it's your turn to go down on me," you told him firmly. You wouldn't take no for an answer.

Kurt was more than eager to please as you pushed him down onto his knees and he spread your pussy lips. He put your leg over his shoulder and finger fucked you with perfect precision. As he listened to your pretty moans, he licked and sucked on your clit as he continuously fingered you.

"So fucking good Kurt. What a good boy you are," you praised him as you held onto the wall and looked into the camera with the biggest smile on your face.

"Tastes so good. I need your pussy."

Your taste drove him wild, and he was so addicted to your body, especially your pussy. The sounds of him sucking and licking you, combined with the pretty noises of pleasure you were making for him, practically made your legs shake with desire. Never did he have such a gorgeous woman to please and to give him pleasure. It was just something he didn't think was possible. With you, he felt like he had found the right person. Someone to understand his passion and his desire to kill and didn't judge him for it. You both had a taste for rough sex and being dominant but also submissive. He sucked your clit and ate you out like it was his last meal. He turned you around and pushed you up against the shower wall as he slapped your ass and spread your cheeks. He licked your pussy from behind and fingered your ass. Even as you came undone, he wouldn't stop getting you off and overstimulated you with his tongue. Your moans for him grew even louder. Before licking up your body, he tongued your ass and fingered it as he slapped your ass until it turned red, then met your lips in a forceful kiss. Tasting yourself from his lips as your mouths collided, you pulled him in close.

The next day after breakfast in bed you felt like you wanted to show him your true dominant side so you confessed to him about what you wanted.

"I want to fuck you, Kurt. You want to fuck me, Kurtie?"

"Yes please!"

"I want to fuck your ass," you admitted, sounding very sure of yourself.

He gulped slightly as he thought about the prospect of doing that with you.

"If you do that and I'm a good boy for you, will you let me fuck your pussy after?" He pleaded with big wide puppy dog eyes.

"Only if you are a good boy for me."

You finished up quickly with him in the shower and dried off, going right back to your bedroom and going into your drawers to find your strap-on. It was 9 inches and red. Kurt looked at the toy with awe in his eyes and got into position on the bed for you and you put it on for him. The camera stayed running and was put on a tripod. Later you planned to upload it to only fans.

"You are going to love my big cock, Kurt. Don't worry, I'll use lots of lube for you too."

There was no doubt you were rocking Kurt's world, and you knew he liked it dirty. Everything you did with your mouth to him was incredible. Kurt craved your mouth and had an oral fixation. Whether you were sucking on a lollipop or a popsicle, he always imagined it was your lips on his dick. Before you would claim his ass with your fake cock, you wanted to tease him and get him hard again by giving him more head- the head you knew he loved so much.

Putting your lips on the tip of his cock, you kissed it and licked the head, swirling your tongue around with eagerness. As you did this, Kurt gasped rather loudly. Your mouth was like magic to him and he was craving you so badly. Sucking even more of him into your mouth, you established a steady motion bobbing up and down. This drove him wild as he clenched the bed sheets beneath him. Once he hit the back of your throat, you gagged and he lifted his hips, bucking into your mouth. The act itself made you insatiable for him. Even if he didn't have your skills to compare to anyone else's, he knew you were a pro. The sucking sounds you made and the lewd gasps as you let him fill your throat with his hardness made him whimper for you. Tickling his balls and playing with them, you hollowed out your cheeks, sucking him like a pro. Drool and spit ran down your mouth and you came up for air.

"That's enough for now, Kurtie. I'm going to please your ass next. Get you ready for my toy."

"Yes, please."

Licking a stripe down his ass, you licked his ass at a steady pace, wanting him to feel your tongue so expertly. The way he was groaning let you know he was feeling good because of your tongue. After a couple of minutes of this and him moaning softly, you stopped just to tease him.

Once the toy got lubed up, you got closer to him on the bed and stroked his cock, massaging his prostate for him. He whimpered already from the contact and his ass muscles clenched in anticipation of finally feeling your big fake cock fuck his ass. As you got the lube on your fingers and inside of his tight hole, you rubbed it around, massaging him, making him gasp from the pure ecstasy and sensations of it all.

Lining up at his entrance, you gave his ass a slap which earned a cry of pleasure mixed with pain from him as he was face down, ass up for you.

"Hold on tight for me baby, it's going to be a wild ride," you promised him, sticking the tip of the fake cock into his ass. It gently slid into him and stretched him out. His ass took to your strap oh so well and you held onto his hips as you moved deeper and even deeper inside his tight hole. His face was now on the pillows, turned sideways as he let you have your way with him. Kurt wouldn't do this with anyone else- just with you because you were his special girl.

Once you adjusted inside his ass, you began pounding away and slapping his ass, too. Kurt looked into the mirror as you fucked his now wide and open gaping hole. As he took your cock, you cried out in pleasure from the feeling of fucking his tight ass hole.

"Please fuck me hard, miss," Kurt begged.

"Shut up Kurt. I will tell you what you are getting, and you will learn to like it."

Deciding he had earned a punishment for back talking, you slapped his ass again, even harder this time. Being dominant was your specialty, and this situation certainly called for it. His groans became even louder as you fucked him good and at a leisurely pace. Once you thought he had enough of the slightly slower pace, you picked up and went deeper into his ass, pounding him at full force.

"Fuck, miss I love it," he dared to utter and gasp in pleasure.

Since he had been a fairly well-behaved boy, you stroked his cock for him, wanting him to receive ultimate pleasure. His cock bounced as you rutted into him and already the tip was leaking pre-cum. Stopping, you admonished him before continuing.

"Call me mommy, Kurt."

"Yes, mommy. Please, Mommy," he begged you, looking at the wall, not daring to dare a glance at you without permission first.

"Yes, mommy what?"

"Yes, mommy, I need you."

You pounded into him again, showing no mercy and raking your fingernails down his back, your other hand slapping his ass as he took you to the hilt. Kurt was having the time of his life and you were glad to give it to him. Being a master mommy dom for Kurt was your specialty. As his cries got louder, your thrusts got even deeper.

It was becoming a little unbearable for him because he hadn't experienced such a good fuck like this before. The sensations were new and intense for him, but his groans let you know you were working his ass just right. The way you pounded his ass was filthy and his cock needed some relief from the tension and attention too because of how pent-up he was for you.

"So good, miss. Please more," he pleaded with you as he looked at you with doe-like eyes.

Giving into his desires, you caressed his cock and stroked it, getting him to full hardness. You needed to fuck him soon, and his cock was already dripping with pre-cum. The harness you were using gave you pleasure as well as the vibrating setting on it could be felt on your clit.

"Yeah, you like it rough huh, like getting pounded for once?" You chided him for being the ultimate dom.

Putting him in his place was just what he needed, and you were going to get him to ultimately submit to you. With more thrusts, you drove him closer to the verge. Kurt whined so prettily for you as you felt the vibration stimulate your clit and bring you over the edge as you stroked his cock.

Pulling out unexpectedly, you threw the strap to the side and flipped him over, and hovered over his cock, your wet folds eager to take him inside. Sinking onto his cock, you let out a satisfied sigh.

"Does that feel good, Kurt? Huh? You love my fake cock and also my tight pussy, right?" You admonished him as you cupped his jaw and rode him.

"Yes, mistress. Love it all. Just want to be fucked so good. I love your pussy," he whined as you pinned his hands down, taking full control of him.

Your breasts bounced as you rode him hard, loving that you were still in control and taking the reins. Kurt loved it too and wanted to have you do whatever you wanted to him. He would fully submit and gladly be what you needed him to be.

Reaching over onto the nightstand, you picked up a small pocket knife you had and revealed the silver and shiny blade. It was glistening under the light and Kurt gasped as he saw it. Before you had talked about having a knife, kink and you both agreed you would use a knife someday when the moment was right just to tease each other.

"You gonna use that one me?" He questioned with wide-blown eyes, his hands behind his head.

"I am just going to tease you with it, baby."

Taking the knife, you held it up against his chest in between his nipples. Sucking one of his nipples into your mouth, you mewled and whimpered as the knife blade gently pressed into his skin. It was cold, and he shivered in anticipation of what was to come next. You just let his cock rest inside you, cockwarming him as you held the knife in the same place and paid equal attention to both nipples. Kurt's groans increased as you moved the blade to his arm, running it along his skin lightly. You stopped at his hand.

"Let's make a blood pact," you suggested with a dark glint in your eyes.

Kurt just nodded at this. Cutting yourself first, you let the blood drip down onto his stomach and then cut his finger. Pressing your finger up against his, you made a pact at that moment. You would never give him up or abandon him and you knew he wouldn't leave you.

"To us. Together forever," you proudly proclaimed.

"Against all others," he responded with fascination in his tone.

You then sucked his finger and let him suck yours clean of the blood as you moved again on top of him riding his cock.

Taking some rope, you tied his hands to the bedpost and smiled into the camera. From all this stimulation, he was getting close to his release. That wouldn’t happen though until he made you cum for him. Your pleasure was so important and Kurt was willing and eager to please you in every way possible. Kissing him with bloody lips, you finger fucked yourself, inching your way closer to release. A tingling sensation inside of you and fullness was emerging.

“Oh, fuck, I’m gonna squirt!” You cried out as you grew closer to release.

Kurt just whined happily in response. Your fingers hit the right spot to drive you over the edge as you slammed into him, making the bed creak and headboards move.

“Yes, squirt for me,” he growled as he bucked his hips and watched you touch yourself.

Lewd and illicit moans escaped your lips as he groaned loudly, sounding so pretty for you as you rode his cock without mercy. The sounds you made caused his cock to twitch inside of you. Just then, you felt your release wash over you and you squirted for him, causing Kurt to moan.

“Fill me up, Kurt. Do it now. Fuck!” You gasped as you relentlessly fucked his brains out.

“That squirting was so hot,” he whimpered as he felt his cock leak pre-cum.

His thrusts were sloppy as he filled you up to the brim, coating your inner walls with his delicious seed. Collapsing on top of him in satisfaction, you caught your breaths as your hearts continued to race. You lay like that for a while, letting him rest inside of you.

From that moment on, you had the craziest sex together and fucked before and after every kill. Some people were innocent, others were scum bags. The urge to kill was all that mattered. Getting away with murder was glorious. Some people were run over, others were stabbed to death or shot. Some were even burned, and the evidence was easy to cover up- at least for a while. One of the most memorable kills meant a lot to you because it was your ex-boyfriend. That kill you dragged it out and made him suffer for as long as possible. There were so many tools and apparatus to use and you made good of them all. From using pliers and a screwdriver to nail guns and acid, you made him pay.

Once Kurt was caught and arrested, you planned to show up at his trial and be there for him as his biggest supporter. Despite your objections, he took all the credit for the killings. The trial declared him guilty on all counts of murder and they sentenced him to 10 years and 2 consecutive sentences. Once in prison, he wrote to you and called you every day. When he got a cell phone and snuck into prison, you sent him sexy nudes and he did the same for you. You visited him and had conjugal visitations. Even with the cameras on and people watching, you had the most mind-blowing sex ever. It was some of the best sex of your life. You even married him in prison. Once he got out, you knew he would make up for lost time. You eventually became a guard at the prison and got to see him every single day and fuck as often as possible. He was rough with you and you were the same way with him. The other inmates were probably jealous, but soon enough, you and Kurt escaped. Once out of prison, you established new identities and moved to another country to get a fresh new start. Until the killings started up again, that is. No matter what, you wouldn't let him go.

He had made a vow in prison he would no longer kill just anyone. Only the people who deserved it. Before he met you someone he had driven with spree a comedian Jesse confronted him. She tried to kill him, but he got away. It was a regret of his letting her get away, but he would move on. Newly established someplace safe with him, you promised each other you would stay together no matter what. To make things official, you had a small and private ceremony with Kurt streaming it for his followers. No one knew where the undisclosed location was, but it was a wondrous and beautiful event.

Neither of you needed extra income since you had streams and paid ones, making tons of sexy videos and live streams together. You used the dark web for your kills together and always wore masks to keep it discreet. When killing, you would keep your rings on a necklace to still show your love but not to give anything away to anyone who might recognize either of you. Leaving your families and old lives behind, you lived for each other. Having so many chances to kill and get away with it was the best. Only the most extreme crimes you saw fit to punish. The worst being cold-blooded murderers and molesters. Finding each victim carefully, you had them meet their demise. Kurt even became a hitman for hire. Eventually, though, you both stopped killing and settled down just living normal lives. Life went on pretty much normally, but you remembered fondly and would sometimes reminisce about old times. Never staying in any place too long, you traveled and just lived life one day at a time together.

soundtrack:

Crazy Bitch and Fuck It I Don't Care by Buckcherry

Rock you like a hurricane by the Scorpions

Closer by Nine Inch Nails

Hatefuck by Motionless In White

Crazy Town - Butterfly (Come to my lady)

Heathens by Halestorm

(You Drive Me) Crazy Britney Spears

Let's go crazy by Prince and the Revolution

Mad by Cassie Steele

Crazy Train and Diary of a Madman by Ozzy

THE TALKING HEADS - PSYCHO KILLER…

TEARS FOR FEARS - MAD WORLD…

PIXIES - WHERE IS MY MIND…

tag list @babygorewhore @inourtownofhawkins @corneliuswatkins @keeryatmosphere @jadeylovesmarvelxo @undead-supernova @ali-r3n @jozstankovich @mrprettywhenhecries @daisy-is-a-writer @stevesxyellowxsweater @harringtonfan4 @koskeepsake @munson-mjstan @impmunson @bimbobaggins69 @emsgoodthinkin @probablyin-bed @corrodedcorpses @ofhawkinsandvecna @lovelythoughtfulcupcake @xxbimbobunnyxx @loritate7311 @dananahenderson

[junkissed]

the king's gambit: en passant (teaser)

member — seungcheol x f reader teaser genre — angst (kinda), enemies to lovers series genre — smut, angst, fluff, happy ending; one-sided enemies to lovers, mafia boss!cheol, ceo!cheol, sugar daddy!cheol word count — this teaser - 0.7k; full fic - tbd (estimated 25k+) synopsis — Millionaire CEO Choi Seungcheol has never relied on anybody: not his parents, not his friends, no one. The only person that’s gotten him through life is himself and the power his name holds. But even now, with everything he could ever want at his fingertips, his life lacks purpose… until he meets you. teaser warnings — mention of alcohol series warnings — murder, gun violence; poisoning; kidnapping/hostages; mentions of blood; descriptions of sex workers/sexual acts for money; unprotected sex, BDSM elements; mentions of food and alcohol; warnings are subject to change as i continue writing! notes — this is a very short teaser for the 95z collab i'm doing called the king's gambit! there is no completion date for this yet as i'm still working on it (and struggling quite a bit— plot is not my usual thing lol). i've got a solid 13.1k down for now, which is by far the longest i've ever written, and there have been a lot of challenges getting to this point but i'm so excited to give you a little snippet of what's to come! once it's completed i will also be posting this fic on ao3 for readers who find that platform easier to use. i hope you enjoy, and if you do, don't forget to add yourself to the taglist for more updates!!

collab masterlist • taglist form • my ao3

it’s no surprise that seungcheol finds himself back at the casino, making his way over to the bar.

there’s not as many people in the casino at this hour of the morning as there were last night, but even still, most of the machines are full and a few of the blackjack tables are crowded with people eagerly awaiting their turn to waste away all their money.

you scoff when you see him sit down at your end of the bar. “damn, you look rough, mr. choi.” he hates the way his name sounds in your mouth, sarcastic and cruel. he hates that you don’t even know him, yet you already think you have him figured out. “did you have another long and tiring morning of partying?”

he growls under his breath but lets the comment slide, not wanting to do any more fighting today. he’s had enough of it as it is. “if you make me a bone dry martini i’ll give you a thousand dollars, right now.”

“of course, sir. anything for the vip paying customer.”

he sighs, pulling out his phone and setting it on the counter. “if you drop the snarky comments i’ll make it five thousand.”

you pause, the bottle of vodka in your hand. he sounds genuinely exhausted, and you almost feel a little bad for him. you don’t doubt that he has that much to spend, but that much money just for you to stop berating him seems a little extreme. “coming right up,” you say softly, grabbing a glass from the sparkling silver rack. “and you can keep the money.”

you finish pouring the drink and set it on the counter with a cocktail napkin, and he pulls out a thick stack of crisp hundred dollar bills from his wallet. you try to refuse him again, but he slaps the bills down, grabbing your hand and placing it on top of the money so you can’t pull away.

after a second he lets go of you, picking up his drink instead. “i’ll transfer the rest to your account today. go buy something useful.”

you look up at him with wide eyes. “mr. choi, that’s really very generous of you, but i don’t think—”

but cheol interrupts you, sighing again. “just keep it. don’t argue with me. please.”

you study him for a second, noticing for the first time the dark circles under his eyes and the way his hair is mussed like he keeps running his fingers through it. you nod silently, sliding the bills off the counter and pocketing them in your blouse pocket.

cheol’s eyes watch your movements closely, studying you in return. “don’t you have a safer place to hide that? casinos can be a dangerous place.”

you almost want to tell him, what on earth would he know about danger, but you bite your tongue and keep it to yourself. he’s had a long enough day on his own, it seems like; he doesn’t need to hear about all the times you’ve been catcalled and harassed, just inside his own casino. though, even if you did, he doesn’t seem like the type to care.

you shove the cash in your drawer beneath the bar and cheol nods, downing the rest of his drink with surprising ease, considering how strong it is. he sets the now empty cocktail glass down, wincing a little before he slides off of his stool and starts to walk away, leaving without another word.

“wait!”

he stops and turns around, waiting. 

you freeze, standing there in silence. you hadn’t expected him to stop. you don’t even know why you’ve stopped him. to ask him if he’s okay? clearly he’s not. to tell him to be… happier? to cheer up? you sigh. this was stupid. “nevermind, i’m sorry. have a nice day, mr. choi.”

he gives you a halfhearted smile and a wave. “yeah. you too.”

you watch him walk away, shoulders hunched and suit wrinkled. you can’t help but be curious about what he’s been up to that’s made him so exhausted, and you begin to wonder if maybe there might be more to this millionaire ceo than you first thought.

> no taglist since this is just a teaser; but, you can join the main taglist here!

> please consider reblogging + leaving feedback! this is the first time i've attempted a longer story like this and it has proven incredibly difficult for me, but knowing you guys are equally as excited for it as i am helps me stay motivated to keep going :)

[thedroneranger]

EMILYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

The Jake and sports girlies inside me are vibinggg! I love this so, so much! The blink of smut is perfect, and reader playing the long game is ** chef’s kiss ** !

And thank you so much for your support and friendship! You’re a wonderful little human, my OG BB™️ 🖤

Sundays Are for the Boys | Hangman x Reader

Summary: Football Sundays are a sacred tradition amongst Jake and his friends, and he's quick to make sure you know that. But when the boys discover your favorite drink in the refrigerator, Jake makes an exception to his rule.

Warnings: Fluff, language, a tiny bit of smut, 18+

Length: 2600 words

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female Reader

Seriously, who let Jake on my masterlist!? Written for Pick Your Poison! Banner by @thedroneranger

Dating Jake came with one firm rule: Sundays were for watching football with the guys. 

"I mean it," he'd told you months ago when you first started dating him. "I host every week. They come over around ten when the games start, and they don't leave until after the last game ends. No wives. No girlfriends. Just a cooler filled with cheap beer. Sundays are for the boys."

At the time, you thought it was cute that he wanted to spend the day with his friends. "That's adorable," you told him, kissing his cheek. But by the time football season arrived, Jake was already in his Dallas Cowboys jersey, shaking you awake on Sunday morning at nine.

"It's almost game time, Baby. The guys will be here soon."

You looked up at him from his bed with a little smirk. "You're really into this, huh?" 

He kissed your forehead and started to pull you to your feet as you laughed. "It's a thing. I told you this months ago." He patted your bare butt as you looked around for your clothes from the night before. "It's week one, and the Cowboys play the Eagles in the early game. I love putting Payback in a bad mood."

You kissed him before you slipped your underwear on. "I know you do."

He was antsy, and you knew he wanted you to leave, but you also knew he didn't want to say it as he kissed you over and over again. "Baby, you gotta go," he finally whispered as you smiled against his lips. 

"I know, I know," you replied, still amused as you finished getting dressed and packed up your stuff. "Go Cowboys."

Each week, your relationship progressed, but this little routine stayed the same. Jake would inevitably wake you up by nine if you weren't already up. He would be wearing one of his many Dallas Cowboys jerseys. He would walk you out to your car and tell you how much he loved you before you left him to entertain his friends. 

But one Sunday, you woke him up with a blowjob on his birthday. And you took your time with it. Did you have a bit of an ulterior motive? Sure. But it didn't detract from the fact that you wanted him to enjoy himself, and you certainly made sure he did. He was coming hard at exactly 9:42 with his hand on the back of your head and his cock tapping your throat. 

"Oh, fuck!" he groaned. "Fuck!" 

You licked him clean and grinned up at him before kissing his hip and whispering, "I love you, birthday boy." Then you climbed out of bed, kissed his lips and started to get dressed. "It's almost ten. I'll head out."

You saw him waver a bit before he nodded. Then his doorbell rang, and you just knew it would be the guys starting to arrive. He kissed you deeply one more time before pulling on his blue and gray jersey and some gym shorts. "Take your time getting dressed. I'll go let them in."

"Sounds good," you replied. And twenty minutes later, after you'd fixed your hair and put on the tiniest bit of makeup, you waltzed out into the living room where there were now six guys spread out on Jake's sectional couch with an open cooler of beer on ice in the middle of the floor and bags of chips seemingly everywhere. 

It was kind of fascinating, getting to catch a glimpse of this carefully curated world that he worked so hard to keep private. Your plan was to quietly sneak out the front door, but you had to stifle your laughter as you heard Bradley tell your boyfriend, "Your Cowboys look like a bunch of fucking pussies this week."

"You're one to talk, dipshit," Jake replied without missing a beat. "The Steelers are 2 and 4." He went back to sipping his beer.

"Both of you are delusional," Coyote told them as he cracked open a can and shoved a fistful of chips into his mouth. 

You skirted around the outside of the room as you eyed them in their various colorful jerseys while you thought they were completely focused on the game. Then you heard Fanboy call your name. "You're leaving?" he asked, looking at you as he ate some beef jerky.

"Yeah," you said with a little laugh as Jake got up to peck you on the cheek. "You know, Sundays are for the boys and all that."

Just then, the Cowboys scored a touchdown, and Jake hoisted you up in the air as you screeched in surprise. Half of the guys groaned, and half of them cheered, but your boyfriend held you tight as he tossed aside his empty beer can and said, "You can't leave until they kick the extra point." So you just stayed there, your feet not even touching the ground as Jake held his breath, and then the Cowboys went up by one more point. Then Jake walked you to your car, nipping at your neck the entire way.

"Don't you have to get back inside?" you whispered as he filthy kissed you, pressing you against the driver's side door. 

"I will," he grunted. "Feel like you're my lucky charm right now."

He kissed away all your lip gloss and messed up your makeup, but when you finally drove away, you had a smile on your face.

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

"What are these things?" Reuben called from the kitchen. Jake turned to see what he was holding up.

"High Noons," he replied before focusing back on the game. "My girl's obsessed with them. It's like a fancy hard seltzer."

"Can I try one?"

"Yeah," Jake told him, knowing he'd just replace them later for you. 

Javy was currently sitting on the floor, practically in tears as the Saints gave up another touchdown to the Dolphins. Mickey's loud cheering had everyone else laughing. "Dude, you'll lose your voice again like last week," Bradley told him as he accidentally spilled potato chips all over the floor before picking them up and eating them anyway. 

"It'll be worth it if the Saints lose!" Mickey cheered. 

"Hey, what's that?" Bradley asked Reuben as he chugged the High Noon can and belched. "Some sort of girly shit?"

"Yeah, it's fucking good."

A minute later, everyone was drinking them, including Jake. "This is delicious," Bob muttered.

"For real," Reuben agreed. "Your girl has good taste."

Bradley snorted as he opened another can. "Not in guys." He and Reuben started cracking up at Jake's expense while he rolled his eyes. 

Then Javy was on his hands and knees crawling toward the TV and shouting, "Get him! Get him! That's a fucking sack! Fuck you, Fanboy! Fuck you, dude!"

The room was in chaos as Javy ground the potato chip crumbs into the carpet. When Jake's phone vibrated, he saw it was a text from you and realized he kind of wished you were here right now.

I miss you. Are you having fun with the boys?

He smiled as he checked the time. The Cowboys game would be starting in less than an hour, and they always seemed to play better whenever you were in the room for those fleeting few minutes before you left him to his Sunday tradition. He tapped his fingers on his thigh and contemplated texting you back. 

"Hey, Jake, are there any more of these things?" Bob asked, holding up his empty High Noon can. It was a testament to how good they tasted that Bob was even drinking one in the first place. He absolutely hated beer.

"I don't think so," Jake muttered, almost to himself as he read your text again. "Let me check." He started his response to you and then finished it after he looked in his nearly empty fridge.

I miss you too, Baby. Where did you get those High Noons? The boys drank them all, and they loved them. I'm going to need to stock up.

When he looked up from his phone, Javy was on his back, kicking his feet in the air, because the Dolphins had scored another touchdown. "No!"

"Hey, Hangman, you're out of chips," Bradley complained, shaking the empty bag into his open mouth before frowning. 

Now Mickey was dancing around Javy on the floor as the final score of the game flashed across the bottom of the screen. His Dolphins had beat Javy's Saints, and Reuben was already changing the channel for the next game that was about to start. But you had texted back again.

Why is that so adorable? I'm just about on my way home from lunch with the girls. Want me to stop and get another case or two? Maybe some snacks? I can drop them off.

Jake grinned; even the idea of you stopping by for a few seconds made him smile. He texted you back letting you know that he loved that idea, and then he stepped over the chaos on his floor and dropped down next to Reuben. Just as the intro to the Cowboys and Steelers was starting up, Jake said, "My girl's stopping by with more of those drinks and some snacks, so please behave while she's here."

"We will," they all replied in unison, though he highly doubted that would actually be the case. 

Then the game started, and they were all distracted, because it was Jake's team against Bradley's team. "Your precious Cowgirls are going down," Bradley muttered, practically licking the inside of the chip bag.

Jake realized he was hungry too as he flipped him off, and he could hear Reuben's stomach growling. The Cowboys were looking terrible in the first quarter, and now Bradley was sitting on the edge of his seat as the Steelers were poised to score a touchdown.

But then, just when you walked in carrying some fresh High Noons and a platter of hot wings, the Steelers threw an interception, and the Cowboys ran it back all the way for a touchdown. "Fuck yes!" Jake shouted, practically ripping the food and drinks out of your hands to get to you. "Come here, Baby. Come sit on my lap."

"Seriously?" you asked, clearly surprised as Jake pulled you along with him while the other guys tore into the seltzers and chicken wings like they were wild animals. Well, everyone except for Bradley who was on his knees on the floor, staring at the TV in shock.

"Thank you for the food and the High Noons," Jake drawled, grinning against your neck as he held you close. "You're the best." 

"You're welcome," you replied, really getting into the game now. "Cowboys are already up?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Bradley groaned. And it just kept getting better from there. Jake got to have you snuggled up on the couch with him while he ate wings and drank seltzers all afternoon. 

When you tried to leave at halftime, the guys whined for you to stay, and Jake pulled you closer to him. "Baby, no. The Cowboys have done nothing but get touchdown after touchdown since you got here. I need you to stay."

You laughed and opened a High Noon for yourself with an amused look on your face. "Alright, Jake. Whatever you need."

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

When you woke up on Sunday with Jake kissing your neck and whispering, "Time to get up," you groaned. You were still exhausted from working all week, but you stretched and slowly got out of bed. "Where are you going?" he asked, reaching for you as you stood and looked at him.

"Home?"

He shook his head like he couldn't be more confused. "Why? Baby, the Cowboys play at ten. The boys will be here soon."

"Yeah...." you replied, reaching for your clothes. "That's why I'm leaving. Sundays are for the boys."

Now he was honest to god pouting. "But, I don't want you to leave. I love watching the games with you, and the guys keep my place cleaner when you're here. They actually belch less too. Really, overall, they are much less insufferable. And besides..." he whispered, grabbing your hand and pulling you back into bed. "I think you're my lucky charm."

"Really?" you asked as he pinned your hands above your head on the pillow. 

"Mmhmm," he hummed as he kissed you. "You make my team do better, and you make me happy. Stay."

You were melting at his touch. "Well, how could I say no?"

The following week, Jake was opening a seltzer for you, and when you looked around, all of the guys were drinking them. Mickey tapped his can to yours. "These are delicious. I feel so sophisticated. You're a genius."

The week after that, Javy ordered pizza only after discreetly asking what your favorite topping was. "The rest of them would eat cardboard with red sauce on top of it, but I want to make sure you get the kind you like."

The week after that, Reuben and Bob both jumped up to get you a new can when yours was empty, and Bradley begrudgingly said, "I still like you even though Jake fucking ruined you by turning you into a Cowboys fan."

You started staying later and later, and you noticed that Jake filled the cooler with fewer beers and more seltzers each week. And on the last Sunday of the regular season, the guys showed up with a sad looking, half crumpled up gift bag and handed it to you as you rearranged the pretty charcuterie board you'd been working on for them. 

"What's this?" you asked, peeking into the bag at some pink fabric.

"It's for you," Javy said. "You're one of the guys now." 

Jake grinned at you from the open refrigerator where he handed out High Noon cans to everyone. "You knew about this?" you asked him as you reached into the bag and pulled out a pink Dallas Cowboys jersey with your own name on the back. 

"Of course I knew about it, Baby. I had to tell them your size."

"Thank you," you whispered as you looked at it, tears filling your eyes and blurring your vision. "I love it." When you looked up at them, they raised their seltzer cans in a toast to you, and you ran to Jake's bedroom to get changed.

You had your own jersey color now amongst the rainbow of teams everyone rooted for, and Jake kept you close as the Cowboys played. The cooler of slowly melting ice offered up High Noons to you and the boys, and by the time it was getting dark outside, you were standing next to the TV with your hands in the air. 

"Ready?" you asked them a little loudly as you giggled, but you weren't the only one who was tipsy and silly. "Here we go!" You led them in a hideous, off-key rendition of I've been waiting all day for Sunday night. After weeks of watching football, everyone had all of the ridiculous lyrics memorized, and it ended in laughter as you curled up next to Jake on the couch.

"I love Sundays," he said, his arm slung around your shoulders. "And I love you, Baby."

You kissed his cheek and whispered, "Sundays are for seltzer drinkers."

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

You slowly infiltrated, and now Sundays are yours. Thanks @thedroneranger for making pretty mood boards like this one and letting us write about them. And thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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[formulauno98]

Once Upon a Time in Abu Dhabi | Chapter Eleven

The final race of the season was always a spectacle, however, this season the tension was off-track.

Word Count: 8.8k

Warnings: Possible pregnancy

Author’s Notes: Disclaimer, purely fiction, no-one is married in this alt-universe.

Thank you to everyone who has read, commented and shown some love for this fic. It is finally finished! I have plenty more ideas in my head so watch this space!

WEDNESDAY AM

You’d discovered you were pregnant three days ago and were now back in the UK, packing for Abu Dhabi and in utter turmoil. You hadn’t told Toto as he’d jetted off ahead of you on the Monday so you hadn’t shared the news with a single soul. You’d told Rosie it was a bout of food poisoning mixed with exhaustion and she’d not questioned things further. 

Logically you knew you had landed yourself in this situation thanks to your own stupidity but you couldn’t help but feel unlucky. You’d had one slip-up where you’d not been careful and it had been a bullseye. Having gone to your local doctor in Oxfordshire, he had confirmed that you were three months along, meaning that you must have conceived in France. Ever since this revelation you had cursed French wine and Toto’s charm. You were never the type to not be careful and it just went to show that it only takes one time to change your life forever.

As you were a little way along you were already due to have a twelve-week scan but in your heart of hearts, you knew you couldn’t do it without telling Toto. You’d told the concerned doctor that you’d book it in once you were back from Abu Dhabi and discuss options moving forward. Time wasn’t on your side but you’d begun weighing up what to do and knew you had a short window in which you could decide whether or not to move forward with the pregnancy.

Packing was a challenge as although you were nowhere near debuting a baby bump, you’d put on a few pounds around your breasts and hips and nothing fit as it should. Prior to last week, you’d pegged it down to overindulging while travelling but now you weren’t so confident. Shaking your head as you put yet another too-small skirt back into your wardrobe you reached for a loose kaftan-style dress, hoping you wouldn’t stand out too much. You had a sponsor lunch with Toto the following day and you always made an effort to dress to impress. 

Sighing, you finished packing for what would be the final time this season and made your way downstairs to wait for the car that would take you to the airport. You were flying commercial with Sophie and knew everything always took longer than when you flew via private jet. 

THURSDAY AM

Having landed late on Wednesday evening you’d gone straight to your hotel room and straight to bed. Unusually, Toto was staying in a different hotel as the company travel department had had trouble squeezing the whole team into one hotel, leaving the team split in half. Fortunately, they had split the team by department so your direct reports were all nearby.

This meant, however, that you had to take a ten-minute taxi ride to meet Toto in his hotel lobby ahead of your sponsor lunch. He’d offered to pick you up but it would have meant him doubling back on himself as the restaurant you were going to was nearer to his hotel. As your car drew up to the front of his hotel you were apprehensive. You didn’t want to hide anything from Toto but equally, it was not fair to drop this news on him ahead of a business lunch or what was sure to be a tense and stressful weekend. You just had to sit it out for three days and not alert suspicions. Easy peasy.

Crossing the lobby you spotted your beau waiting for you, leaning jauntily against a marble column. As he met your eyes he broke out into a wide grin, obviously as happy to see you as you were him.

“Hey stranger,” he said, giving you an awkward pat on the shoulder before leaning down and whispering, “I want to kiss you but it’s frowned upon here.”

You giggled, Toto was always proper, “That’s fine, bold of you to assume I wanted to kiss you.”

“You’re so mean to me.” he said, before looking you up and down, surveying your outfit and adding with a smirk “Nice outfit by the way, are you trying to blend in with the locals?”

You narrowed your eyes, knowing that the breezy kaftan was not a typical you-outfit, “Perhaps, I fancied a change.”

Toto smiled, “I like it actually, you look very… elegant.”

Bursting out laughing, you replied, “Smooth save.”

Toto laughed, resting his hand on the small of your back, “Shall we go? Our car is waiting.”

“Sure, but no touching Mr., don’t want to give people the wrong idea,” you said, poking your tongue out.

“I’m helping you walk,” he said, chuckling as you made your way out of the hotel lobby.

– – – 

Fortunately for you, lunch passed quickly, with the sponsors agreeing to a new three-year deal, leaving you and Toto beaming. You’d been apprehensive about the meeting following on from the PR disaster that had hit the team last week but fortunately, the majority of suppliers accepted that it was a planted story. The deal was toasted with the same sparkling rosewater that the drivers would be spraying on the podium so luckily you didn’t even need to feign drinking.

As you made your way back to the car that would take you to Toto’s hotel, Toto’s phone rang.

“Do you mind if I take this, it’s my lawyer?” he asked.

“Of course, take it!” you said, “I’ll wait here.”

As you settled down on a cushy chair in the entrance of the restaurant, Toto made his way outside for some privacy. You were curious about what the latest was but knew that these kinds of things took time and it was likely just a courtesy call.

You took the brief reprieve to catch up on your emails and messages, your job busy as ever. You were grateful for your team, often fielding and solving issues before they even came to you, however, last week had been an unprecedented challenge and your inbox was still full of tabloid journalists looking for gossip.

As you typed yet another “No comment” response, Toto made his way back towards you, a wide smile on his face.

“Good news?” you asked, gathering your phone and notebook up.

“Yes and no.” said Toto, “The man in contact with Lara is one of the Red Bull senior management, so not Christian.”

Your eyes widened as you made your way out of the restaurant alongside Toto, “To be honest, I’m not surprised. Christian’s smart, if he did have anything to do with it, he would have gotten someone else to do his dirty work.”

“Exactly,” said Toto, deep in thought.

THURSDAY PM

Having wrapped another relentless media day, thankfully the last one of the season, you were now settled into Toto’s room for the evening, curled up on the balcony watching the glorious sunset, with a book in hand, while Toto took a shower. Thoughts raced through your mind at one hundred miles an hour, overthinking all of the possible scenarios that would follow you telling Toto your news. You’d known each other a while but hadn’t been romantically involved for that long and you had never even discussed whether Toto wanted any more children. You knew you had to tell him asap but finding the right time was going to be tricky.

“Y/N.” came a deep voice from the patio door.

“Hey, feeling better?” you asked, turning around to the easy-on-the-eyes sight of a shirtless Toto with a towel wrapped around his waist.

“Yes, I feel human again.” he said, walking out onto the balcony and ducking down to kiss your forehead, “Sorry I was grumpy earlier.”

You laughed, patting his shoulder, “It’s okay, we all have those days.” Toto had been in a foul mood all afternoon, a culmination of being grilled by journalists about his private life and suffering in a long-sleeved shirt in the extreme Abu Dhabi heat. 

“What did I do to deserve you?” he asked with a grin, “Can I get you a drink?”

Suddenly in a panic, you replied hastily. “I’m fine with water, thanks.”

Toto raised his eyebrows, knowing that you normally loved a glass of wine after a long, difficult day. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Yes, I just have a small headache, I think I didn’t drink enough water today,” you said, hoping he’d buy it.

“Do you need paracetamol?” he asked, looking concerned.

“No, no,” you said, “I already took some, don’t worry.”

Still looking a little worried, Toto seemed to believe your cover story, “If you’re sure. I might get a beer if it’s okay?”

“Of course it’s okay,” you said, laughing at his ever-impeccable manners. “Come join me, it’s nice out here with the breeze.”

“If you’re sure,” he replied, disappearing back into the room before promptly returning with a cold beer in one hand and a glass of water in another.

“Come here,” you said, scooching over on your sunlounger to make room.

“I’m not going to fit there!” he said, looking down suspiciously.

“You’ll just have to get cosy with me,” you said, batting your eyelashes.

“If I absolutely have to,” he said with a smirk, setting the drinks down on the side table and ducking down to lie down beside you, pulling you across onto his chest as he lay down on his back.

“This is nice,” you said, resting your head on his bare chest, feeling his heart racing.

“Mmm,” he said, pulling you closer and tracing circles on your hip. “I wish we could do this all day.”

Smiling, you felt his heart slowing down as he relaxed, “After tomorrow we can.”

Toto sighed, “I’ve never needed the break so badly.”

“I know, I don’t like seeing you so stressed,” you replied, feeling guilty that you were keeping a secret that would only add to his woes.

“You de-stress me,” he said, clutching you even closer.

“I try,” you said, feeling even worse.

FRIDAY AM

Having dozed off on the sunlounger, you and Toto had dragged yourselves to bed, falling asleep as soon as your heads hit the pillow. Waking up, you felt rejuvenated, you’d needed a peaceful sleep after the chaos of the last few weeks.  

Carefully extracting yourself from a still-asleep Toto’s arms (he loved a cuddle) you tip-toed to the bathroom to get ready for the day. You’d planned to head to the gym with Toto but life had other plans as you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. 

“Fuck.” you said out loud, turning sideways to see that your stomach had suddenly curved ever so slightly outwards overnight. It wasn’t enough to look like a bump but it was noticeable and you knew that your gym kit would leave no room to hide, raising questions.

“Everything okay?” asked a voice from outside the bathroom. Toto had obviously woken up and heard your cursing.

“Yes, just tripped over the bathmat,” you said, wrapping yourself in a robe and trying not to rouse suspicion as you opened the door to let Toto in. “By the way, I think I might skip the gym for a swim this morning.”

“Oh.” he replied, obviously a little disappointed that you wouldn’t be joining him, “Is everything okay?”

“Yep, all good.” you said, “I just don’t want to overdo it.”

“If you’re sure.” he said, “Maybe I could come for a swim with you?”

“No.” you blurted out, far more harshly than you intended.

“Just a suggestion,” he said, his eyebrows raising.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that, I just know that you prefer the gym,” you said, making your way over towards him.

“Are you sure you are feeling okay Y/N? I’ve been worried about you since Brazil.” Toto replied, looking down at you curiously.

“I’m fine,” you said, stretching up for a quick kiss.

“If you’re sure,” said Toto, looking unconvinced.

– – – 

Toto had left for the gym, leaving you to deal with your latest problem. You felt guilty about lying to Toto about going for a swim but you needed peace and quiet to gather your thoughts. And more pressingly, figure out how you were going to fit into your normally snug-fitting Mercedes uniform. 

You’d tried stretching your trousers to fit but it seemed beyond the realms of physics that you were going to fit into them. Desperate times called for desperate measures and you called Rosie in a panic.

“Hey Y/N, what’s up?” she replied, sounding somewhat sleepy.

“Morning Rosie, I am sorry to call you but I have a small emergency,” you said.

“Shit, what’s happened now,” she said, suddenly sounding much more lucid.

“Oh no no, nothing bad, don’t worry. Basically, I’ve gained a few pounds and my uniform doesn’t fit. Could I possibly borrow your spare set?”

At that, Rosie burst out laughing. You could hear George stirring awake in the background, inquiring as to who was calling so early. “That’s the emergency? Sure I’ll come over. Are you in Toto’s hotel?”

“Yep, room 754.” You said, “Thank you so much, you are a lifesaver.”

“I’ll be right there,” she said, hanging up.

– – – 

Not five minutes had passed when there was a gentle knock on the door. Rosie was once again to the rescue.

“Morning,” you said as you opened the door to a bleary-eyed Rosie sporting her pyjamas and a Mercedes-branded tote bag.

“Morning,” she replied sleepily, stepping into the room. “So I have two different sizes of uniform and I brought them both.”

“Oh my God, Rosie you are a lifesaver, thank you thank you.” you squealed as she handed you two pairs of trousers and two shirts, “Can I try both?”

“Sure,” she said kindly, “I’m sure the smaller set will be better since you’re much smaller than me.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” you said furtively, heading into the bathroom.

“Well, you know what they say about people in relationships,” she said, from outside the door.

“Huh?” you replied, sticking your head out as you struggled with the smaller pair of trousers.

“You pile on the pounds when you’re happy,” she said laughing.

Grimacing, you wriggled around, fighting the waistband “I must be super happy then, looks like it will be the bigger pair.”

“Sheesh! You really have piled on the pounds,” said Rosie, before backtracking when she saw your face drop, “I’m just joking, oh my gosh I would kill to look like you!”

Struggling to fight back the tears, you decided it was now or never to spill, “Rosie, don’t freak out.”

Now it was Rosie’s turn to say “Huh?” your best friend and confidant looking curiously at you. “What’s wrong Y/N?”

“I’m pregnant.” you blurted out.

Rosie’s face went through a full circle of emotions as she processed the news, her initial shock turning into a smile that then dropped as she considered the ramifications. “Are you sure?”

“Yep.” you gulped, “Remember in France, when I had the scare and then in Brazil when I wasn’t feeling well and you made me go to the medic?”

“Fuck, I knew something was up!” said Rosie, so shocked that she’d had to take a seat on the ottoman at the foot of the bed.

“Yep,” you said, tears now fully flowing as you sat down beside her in your still unbuttoned too-small trousers.

“Oh love, it’s going to be okay.” she said, putting her arm around you, “What did Toto say?”

“Nothing… I haven’t told him yet,” you said bashfully.

“You haven’t told him?” Rosie asked incredulously, “You need to tell him Y/N!”

“I know, but there hasn’t been the right moment,” you said.

“Aw Y/N, don’t cry, you’ll make me cry!” said Rosie, her eyes starting to well up, “He’ll be happy, the way he looks at you, I just know it.”

“I’m not sure.” you said, stealing yourself slightly as you dabbed away your tears with your sleeve, “He already has two children, he might be done.”

Just as Rosie was about to say something the door opened.

“Oh hi Rosie, is everything okay?” said a worried-looking Toto, looking from you to Rosie and back again, clearly clocking the fact that you were both crying.

“Yes yes,” she said, wiping away her own tears, “I just had some bad news and needed a shoulder to cry on.”

Toto’s face dropped, he was as fond of Rosie as you were, “Is there anything I can do?”

“No, it’s okay, Y/N helped me out. Thank you though, you two are the best,” Rosie said, dutifully lying on your behalf. She was selling her story and if you weren’t so fraught with worry and in tears, you’d be impressed by her acting abilities.

“If you’re sure,” said Toto, still looking at you both suspiciously.

“Yep, I had better get going. I’ll see you later,” she said, getting up and squeezing your shoulder lightly.

“See you, Rosie. Let me know if I can help with anything else” you said quietly, not trusting your ability to hold back more tears. It was a flaw of yours that once you started crying you always found it hard to keep it together.

“Will do,” she said, closing the door behind her.

“Is she okay?” asked Toto, sitting down beside you, before adding “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, all good, we sorted it. Just girl stuff, don’t worry,” you said, smiling weakly, leaning on his shoulder and sighing.

“Did George do something? Do I need to have a word?” he asked.

“No, no nothing like that!” you said, not wanting to raise further suspicion, “Rosie said she’d speak to him.

“Well I hope everything is okay with them,” said Toto stoically.

“Yeah, just young love!” you said, snuggling closer, lost in your thoughts.

– – – 

The morning passed without further incident, thankfully Rosie’s larger uniform set fitting perfectly as you once again navigated the paddock during the Free Practice sessions. In an interesting turn of events, Christian Horner’s PA had requested to set up a meeting that afternoon between the two warring Team Principals and you were intrigued why.

“Why would he want to meet with you one-on-one?” you asked Toto as you sat in his office post-Free Practice Two.

“I’m not sure and I don’t like there not being a lawyer,” said Toto, crossing his arms opposite you.

“Are you going to go?” you asked.

“I will see what he has to say,” said Toto, frowning.

“Hmm, if it gets contentious just leave,” you said, half concerned, half curious.

“Of course.” said Toto, leaning across the desk towards you, “I’m so tired of this bullshit Y/N.”

Surprised by Toto’s admission, you retorted, “Are you talking to me as your Director of Communications or as your girlfriend?”

“Both.” said the weary Austrian, “I don’t know how much longer I can do this. I love the racing but the rest, it’s like being in Kindergarten.”

Your eyes sympathetic, you leaned forward, “You’ll feel better after the break.”

“I hope so.” he said, “I’m excited for you to meet my family”

“This is definitely girlfriend territory,” you said with a grin, “And I am too, I hope they like me.”

“They will love you,” said Toto, smiling widely, “Just like I do.”

Melting under his chocolate brown gaze, you smiled back. Although you always promised each other to keep your work and personal lives separate, stolen moments like this were special.

“Well, I suppose I had better go and see what he has to say,” said Toto with a sigh, getting up from his chair.

Following suit, you made your way out of Toto’s office to return to your own, wishing Toto luck as he made his way down the stairs towards his rival’s hospitality area. “Good luck, let me know what he says,” you said.

“Will do, see you later,” Toto replied, clearly a little apprehensive about his meeting.

– – – 

Having been on tenterhooks waiting for Toto to return from his meeting you were increasingly anxious as the twenty-minute meeting dragged on for an hour, and then another. You had almost given up waiting and returned to the hotel when your phone buzzed.

Sorry we took a while, could you please come and join us? X

Surprised that Toto was inviting you to join, you hurriedly typed a reply and made your way towards your paddock neighbours.

Entering the Red Bull hospitality area you could feel the unfriendly looks directed towards you, you were in enemy territory and they made sure you knew it. Approaching the coffee station, you hedged your bets that their catering staff might be somewhat friendly.

“Hi,” you said with a smile at the girl behind the counter.

“Oh hi, can I help you?” she said, a funny look on her face.

“Yes, I’m here to meet Christian Horner, where might I find him?” you asked, trying to stay polite.

She frowned, “But you’re from Mercedes, no?”

“Yes, he’s asked to see us, he’s currently in a meeting with my boyf… colleague and asked for me to join.” You couldn’t believe the timing of your slip-up, so much for not mixing business and pleasure.

“Oh, so you’re the one Toto Wolff is sleeping with!” she exclaimed rudely. “He’s just upstairs, first door on the right.”

Ruffled by her words, you decided to not dignify her with a response and made a beeline for the stairs before anybody else could add their witty remarks.

Taking a deep breath, you knocked on the first door on the right, apprehensive about what you were walking into.

“Come in.” said a voice you recognised as Christian Horner.

Opening the door, you were surprised to see the two sworn enemies sitting opposite one another in armchairs, beers on the coffee table in front of them.

“Y/N, thank you for joining us, have a seat!” said Christian, standing up to greet you with a warm smile and a handshake before gesturing at the armchair beside Toto, “Can I get you a beer?”

“That’s okay, thank you,” you said, eyeing up Toto curiously. “Hey boss.”

“Hi,” he said somewhat awkwardly.

“You two lovebirds get a room…” said Christian, chuckling as he settled back down across from you, before noticing your thunderous glare and quickly adding, “Relax, I’m kidding.”

“So what do I owe this pleasure?” you asked.

Christian shifted slightly, “So I have been telling Toto all of this but wanted to talk to you as well. I wanted to apologise for the pain my subordinate has caused you, it’s not okay and I know that I like to rile up Toto every now and then but this season I took it too far, made it too personal and wanted to say sorry to you both.”

Your eyes widened, this is certainly not what you had expected. Christian Horner apologising was like hell freezing over. “Wow, well there’s a lot to unpack there,” you said.

“I know, that’s why we have the beers.” said Christian, “Firstly, I want you to know that I have sacked the member of staff who worked with Toto’s EA on the smear campaign. I am ashamed that someone under my leadership would sink so low and rest assured we will support you in any investigation or impending court case.”

Stunned into silence, you turned to Toto, “Is this true?”

“Yes,” he replied, “We’ve been discussing the finer details but I believe Christian when he says he didn’t know what was going on.”

Shrugging his shoulders, Christian continued, “Look, our car coupled with Max is good. We don’t need to resort to dirty tricks to make you guys look bad. We can do it on track.”

“There’s the Christian we know and love,” you said with a smile, making the two men chuckle.

“I have given Toto the member of staff in question’s laptop and phone plus passwords to aid any investigation.” he replied proudly, “I also want to say sorry for my behaviour at last week's press conference. I had no idea someone from my team was perpetuating rumours and I was just messing around. I know you both know about my relationship with Gina and I lashed out after Toto threatened me.”

“Apology accepted,” interjected Toto.

You were in shock. “Really?” you asked, whipping your head around towards your beau.

“Yes, life’s too short.” said Toto, “We have a plan. And this is why I wanted you here.”

“I’m all ears,” you said.

“We know this will not stay quiet, you of all people know what the paddock is like. So we were thinking the best approach is to make a joint statement.” started Christian.

“Saying what?” you interjected sharply.

“Detailing everything that happened, it’s a juicy story, the press will love it,” he replied.

“And you agreed to this?” you asked Toto.

“I’d rather people know the truth,” he said with a sigh.

“What do you need me for then?” you asked.

“Toto said you’d know how to handle this,” said Christian expectantly.

“Well, this is not how I’d go about this but if it’s what you want to do, let’s go for it,” you said.

“What would you do?” asked Toto.

“Let it blow over, forget it ever happened, this clears Christian’s name more than it does yours,” you said.

“Yes, but I also want to rise above it, and put an end to this silly rivalry,” said Toto.

“Then let’s do it,” you said, with a smile.

– – – 

Having spent far more time than intended in the Red Bull motorhome, you emerged in the paddock under the cloak of darkness. Probably for the best as the moment team rivals were seen liaising, the rumour mill always went whirring.

“That was interesting,” you said to Toto, diving next door to collect your bags.

“I was surprised.” mused Toto, holding the door open for you.

“I think he was scared you might retaliate,” you said as you made your way up the stairs to your office.

“I agree,” said Toto, following you into your office.

“Do you not need to get your stuff?” you asked.

“Yes, but first I wanted to do this,” he said, taking a step forward to cup your face with his large hands and catch your lips in a soft yet passionate kiss.

“Toto,” you started before he promptly followed up with a second, equally searing kiss.

“I have something I need to tell you,” Toto said, shifting his weight nervously.

“What’s wrong Toto?” you said, concerned by what he was about to say.

“Nothing is wrong. I just need to get this off my chest. Look, I’m old, and before you say anything, yes I am. I am too old to be running around the world like this.”

“I’m not sure I like where this is going…” you said.

“I’ve been thinking about it for a while. I’ve achieved everything I ever dreamed of… and more… and it’s time for someone else’s turn. One more year and I’d like to retire, stay as an investor, maybe even an advisor, but less hands-on.”

You were stunned, “So one more year, then retirement?”

“I understand if it means you don’t want to tie yourself down to an old man,” Toto said sadly.

“What planet are you on?” you said, looking him dead in the eyes, “Of course I want to be with you, whatever you do.”

Toto’s eyes lit up, “That makes me very happy. I have thought a lot about this and maybe it’s a good thing, if you wanted… actually, never mind.”

“What would I want?” you asked, curious where this was going.

All of a sudden Toto began to blush. “Forget it, we can talk again when we get there.”

“Okay,” you said, rolling your eyes. Sometimes Toto could be infuriating.

SATURDAY AM

You woke up early on Saturday morning, once again before Toto. Stretching, you made your way out to the balcony to get some fresh air. Thankfully the waves of nausea had seemingly stopped and you were feeling much better. You knew you had to tell Toto sooner rather than later but were not sure how to even broach the subject.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a phone ringing from inside the room and you dashed to pick it up before Toto woke up. 

Seeing the caller ID, you picked up, keeping your voice low, “Hey Rosie, how’s it going?”

“I’m okay thanks, just wanted to check in on you. Did you manage to speak to Toto?” she asked.

Checking he was still sound asleep, you settled on the sofa in the sitting area of the room, “No, not yet, I think it’s best to wait until Monday, once the season is done and dusted. He doesn’t need any more stress.”

“Yeah you’re right.” said Rosie, “As long as you are okay though. Have you thought any more about what you want to do?”

You sighed, “As amazing as it would be, realistically, travelling around the world in such a demanding job with a baby is totally unrealistic.”

“True.” replied Rosie, “But what would Toto say?”

“Of course he’s a stand-up guy but he’s busy with the races, do you really think he’ll want to be dealing with a newborn baby on race weekends?” you replied, looking up to see a shocked-looking Toto sat up in bed. “Is it okay if I call you back Rosie?”

“Sure, and don’t stress!” she said.

As you gingerly ended the call you could barely look Toto in the eye, “How much of that conversation did you hear?”

“Enough to understand.” he said, a serious look on his face, “What is she going to do?”

“What do you mean she?” you asked.

“Rosie, she’s pregnant, no?” he said, getting up out of bed to join you on the sofa.

“Fuck.” you said, “I didn’t want you to find out this way but it’s not Rosie, it’s me. I’m pregnant Toto.”

The blood drained out of Toto’s face as he computed what you had just told him. “With me?”

“No, with Christian. What do you think?” you said, looking at him exasperatedly, “It was that one time in France, we weren’t careful and work got so busy, I never got the pill. I’m so sorry Toto.” 

Toto rubbed his hands through his hair in exasperation as he processed the news, “This is a lot.”

“I know, that's why I was waiting to tell you until after this weekend,” you said, putting your arm around his wide shoulders. “I know it's a lot to take in, If you want we can talk about it on Monday, what we’re going to do.”

“Well, what do you want?” asked Toto, still looking shaken.

“I don’t know honestly. I love you but this is so new. I hope one day to have children but I’m not sure. How would we juggle this with a baby?“ you said with a sigh.

Toto suddenly looked more animated, “You want to have children?”

You sighed, staring into your lap, “Yes Toto, and I know we’ve never talked about it. I’ve been too scared. I know you already have been there, done that and probably don’t want to do it again.”

Toto stared at you intensely before answering, “What would make you think that? I love my children and I always regretted not having more.”

Your mouth gaped open, was he really saying he wanted more children? “But what about us? This is new, is it not too soon?”

“Y/N, we’ve known each other for some time now. Yes we haven’t been romantically involved for a long time but I know you well enough to know how much I admire you as a woman, as a human.” said Toto, suddenly taking your hand in his, “I don’t want to rush you as I know you have your career but one day I would like to have children with you.”

“I feel the same way, Toto,” you said firmly, turning to face him, “Are we seriously doing this?”

Toto’s eyes lit up, “Only if you want to?”

“Of course I want to!” you said, grinning.

“Then let’s do this.” said Toto, looking happier than he had done in months before he turned to you and planted a kiss squarely on your lips before reaching out to rest his palm on your stomach, “I can’t believe it, we’re going to have a baby.”

“The one time we weren’t careful!” you said with a dry smile, placing your hand on Toto’s. Although it wasn’t ideal timing, you did feel lucky.

“Well, I am efficient in all my work,” said Toto with a dry grin.

You playfully slapped his chest, “You are such a nerd.”

“And now you’re carrying my child.” said Toto smugly, “You love nerds.”

“I do love nerds.” you said, “Big, old, Austrian nerds.”

“Not too old!” said Toto, still looking pleased with himself. “You’ve made me the happiest man in all of Abu Dhabi.”

Unable to stop smiling, you looked at him fondly, “You’ve made me happy too. I know we have a lot to talk about and work out but let’s just enjoy this weekend and we can figure things out on Monday?”

“We can talk now, we have some time.” said Toto, a serious air suddenly about him, “Logically, it makes sense for you to move in with me.”

Your eyes widened, “You want me to move in with you?”

“Of course,” said Toto, “If we are doing this, we’re doing it properly.”

You smiled, reaching up to kiss his cheek, “Let’s do it then.”

“I know this is the future but do you remember what I told you last night?” asked Toto.

“That you want to retire after next year?” you asked, unsure of where he was going with this.

“Yes,” he said, “I was going to suggest that if children were in our future, I could be a stay-at-home Dad if you wanted to return to work. I’ve had my time, it’s time for yours.” he looked down before adding shyly,  “Only if you want of course.”

Shocked by this admission, you took a moment to find the words, “You’d already thought about kids?”

“Do you remember when Bono brought his children into the garage back in Silverstone?” Toto asked.

“Yes, why?” you said.

“I saw how you were with them and thought you’d make an excellent mother. Then my mind wandered, and I started to think about what if we had children together.” Toto looked slightly embarrassed by his admission.

“That’s what you were going to say? Jesus Toto. I thought you were going to break up with me.” you said, having been confused by his tone the previous night.

“No, quite the opposite actually,” he said, his cheeks reddening. “Maybe this is a sign.”

You looked at him puzzled, “A sign for what?”

“Let’s wait and see,” he said with a wink, 

SATURDAY PM

Now at the trackside motorhome, nervously watching the last quali of the season you took a moment to reflect on the conversation you’d had with Toto that morning. You’d been reticent to tell him your news but now that it was out in the open you felt as if a weight had been lifted off of your shoulders. You never could have dreamt how well Toto took the news and the fact that he had been considering the prospect of a future with you filled you with good vibes.

A knock on your office door interrupted your train of thoughts.

“Come in,” you called out before the door opened to reveal Rosie.

“Hey Y/N, is now a good time?” she asked, pausing in the doorframe.

“Of course,” you said, smiling widely. You hadn’t had time to catch up with Rosie since telling Toto and you were once again glad you had a confident.

Closing the door behind her, Rosie took a seat on the small sofa across from your desk. “Was everything okay this morning?”

“Yes,” you said, “But Toto overheard our conversation…”

Rosie went white. “Fuck, and what did he say?”

You chuckled, “Well first of all he thought it was you and George and threatened to come and sort George out.”

Rosie giggled nervously, “Of course he did. Did you tell him it was you?”

“Yes,” you said with a smile, “And he’s happy.”

Rosie’s face finally dropped into a wide grin, “I knew he would be! I’m so happy for you both!”

“Thank you.” you said, “Obviously we’re keeping it quiet for now as it is still early days.”

“Of course.” she said, “Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl yet?”

“No,” you said, “We can find out at the next scan or we can have a surprise.”

“Ooh.” she said, “What are you thinking?”

“Not sure yet, I kind of like the idea of a surprise,” you said with a small grin. “Toto already has one of each so either way we’ll be happy.”

“Aw this baby is going to be beautiful.” said Rosie, “I’m so excited.”

“Well I hope they get Toto’s height.” you said, “Especially if he’s a little boy!”

“I think it’s a girl,” said Rosie, crossing her arms confidently.

“Do you?” you said, “I think it’s a boy.”

“Interesting.” she replied, raising her eyebrow, “I’m normally good at guessing and I just think you look more like you’re having a girl.”

“Scientific.” you said with a laugh, flicking your eyes back to the screen where you were watching quali, “We’d better get down to the garage, Q2 is getting underway.”

– – – 

Standing in the garage, headphones on, eyes locked on the small screen with a plethora of graphs and data, you glanced at Toto out of the corner of your eye. He hadn’t stopped smiling all day and quali was adding to his good mood. Lewis and George had both made it through to Q3 and Mercedes was on track for a front-row lockout as long as Max Verstappen didn’t put in a last-minute unbeatable time. 

As the clock ticked down, you dared hope that he wouldn’t, but in typical Max style, the Dutch driver managed to find almost a second where no one else could and pipped Lewis to the post for P1. Applauding your team’s efforts, you looked at Toto who was beside you, continuing to grin. Noticing you looking, he stretched an arm out towards you, scooping you towards him for a celebratory half-hug before remembering that cameras were everywhere and then doing the same to a less enthusiastic Bono.

“P2 and P3, we are on for a podium tomorrow,” he said clapping his hands together as he addressed the team, “Well done everyone and thank you. One last push.”

SUNDAY AM

Waking up bright and early, the sun flaring through the curtains you couldn’t believe it was the last race of the season. Toto’s arms were wrapped around you protectively and knowing that he had a vice-like grip while sleeping, you had no choice but to snuggle in further. As your alarm sounded you felt Toto stir, clutching you ever closer.

“Good morning,” he said groggily as he pressed a kiss to your temple before stretching his long arm across you to turn off the alarm.

“Morning,” you said, smiling at his sleep-rumpled hair.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he said, half asleep, one eye still closed.

“No reason,” you said, kissing his neck in the spot you knew he loved.

“I don’t trust you,” he said smirking, before reaching his free arm around to caress your stomach. “I still can’t believe it.”

“Me neither.” you sighed, “Not what I thought would happen when I first met you.”

Toto quirked an eyebrow, “What did you think would happen?”

“When you walked in on me changing…hmm let me think, that you were some old perv?” you replied teasingly.

Blushing slightly, Toto chuckled, “Not my finest hour admittedly. But I still managed to woo you, now look at us.”

You laughed, “Yep, irresistible charm.”

“I knew it.” replied Toto with a smile, “As soon as I saw you I thought to myself, she’s the one.”

“And all it took was a seethrough bra?” you said laughing.

“I actually thought you had lovely eyes,” said Toto, deadpan before bursting into laughter and squeezing your hip.

“Sure sure,” you said, cuddling up. “Toto?”

“Yes,” he said burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“Logically speaking, what are we going to do?”

“What do you mean?” he replied, muffled against your hair.

“Realistically I am going to be out of action for a bit. It’s not ideal timing. I’ll have to stop working halfway through next season.”

“Shhh.” said Toto, rocking his hips gently into you, “We’ll plan on Monday. For now, let me enjoy this moment.”

Slightly worried at Toto’s uncharacteristic laissez-faire attitude, you shrugged, “Sure, but don’t moan at me when I’m giving birth in the paddock.”

Toto laughed, “You’re so dramatic!”

“Says you!” you laughed.

“I didn’t think about the timing.” said Toto, pausing before adding, “We will work it out. Don’t worry, trust me”

“Trusting you is what got me into this mess Mr Wolff,” you said playfully.

“It takes two to tango,” replied Toto, hugging you tighter, his large hand still palming your stomach gently, “Right, we need to get out of bed, but I don’t want to.”

“Me neither,” you said, burying yourself further under the covers.

Kissing you once more on the forehead, Toto eased to sitting up before extracting himself from the tangled mess and making his way over the background. “Team orders, get out of bed.”

Laughing, you resurfaced, “Just one of the many perks of sleeping with the boss.”

Toto peered around the door and quirked an eyebrow, “You weren’t complaining last night.”

Rolling your eyes you sat up, “Toto…”

Looking mischievous he retorted, “You know I was thinking, since it’s the last race of the season, would you like to make a bet?”

Folding your arms, you replied, “Depends what the wager is.”

“If Lewis wins, I get to name the baby.”

“So if George wins, I get to pick huh?” you asked, not sure where this was going.

“Exactly. I have some great ideas already,” said Toto, still hanging around the doorframe.

“And what might those be?” you asked.

“Paul. After Paul Ricard,” he said, hardly able to contain his giggles.

“You are such an idiot,” you said, getting up out of bed gingerly, making your way towards him.

“It makes sense, hear me out. It’s where it all started,” he said, grabbing your hip and pulling you in close.

“Absolutely not. What if she’s a girl?”

“Paula,” he said flatly before bursting out laughing. “Okay, how about this, Niki?”

Shaking your head you kissed Toto on the cheek before breaking his grip to make your way into the bathroom and get ready for the day.

SUNDAY PM

Halfway through the race disaster had struck in your rival’s camp. Red Bull had had issues undoing one of Max Verstappen’s wheels, leaving them with an abnormally long pitstop. It didn’t give Mercedes a huge edge but fortunately, he was released into grid traffic and it was enough to halt his return to the front of the grid. It was now Lap 56 of 58 and Lewis was in the lead, George not far behind.

The Mercedes garage was silent, knowing that the team had a real last-minute chance of snatching back the Constructors Championship, something that had narrowly evaded you all season. You could hardly breathe as the lap count went down. 57, 58, Max Verstappen struggling to make it back up the field. 

After what felt like an eternity, the chequered flag was being waved. Lewis was P1 and George P2. The garage erupted into cheers, Toto grabbing you suddenly and kissing you as if his life depended on it, oblivious to the hundreds of cameras trained on him.

Breaking the kiss, you could feel eyes on you. Blushing, you saw the team around you looking half horrified, half amused by the sudden public display of affection.

Leaning in to hug Bono, he had a twinkle in his eye, quipping “He better not try that with me.”

Laughing you hugged him tightly, before retorting “Oh, I’ll be having words with him later, don’t worry.”

Surrounded by your colleagues you lost track of the amount of people you hugged and kissed in celebration, all the while beaming at your increasingly animated beau. Toto was an emotional man and you could read him better than anyone else. You knew the Constructors Trophy meant the world to him and you hoped that he’d let loose later that evening.

LATER THAT EVENING

Sat at a low table, surrounded by your close colleagues you couldn’t help but laugh at your thought train earlier. Toto had proceeded to let loose and then some, crowd surfing, drenching himself and everyone around him in champagne before belting out increasingly horrendous renditions of songs he barely knew the words to. 

Smiling and glancing over to Toto lighting up the dancefloor, you sipped contently on your lemon water. It had been a truly wild ride of a year, with some serious ups and serious downs. One thing for certain was that you had fallen well and truly for the man before you.

Beside you, Rosie was looking less fondly at her other half. “What is wrong with him?” she said, gesturing across at George who was separate from the crowd and spinning around with his arms outstretched, not a care in the world.

“Aw, let him be,” said Bella, “He looks happy.”

“I suppose.” said Rosie, sighing, “I can’t believe even Toto is so far gone.”

“I can believe.” you said, laughing, “It’s been a tough year, he needed this.”

“Well it can’t have been easy for you either, I’m surprised you’re not dancing up there with him,” said Bella.

Rosie shot you a knowing glance, well aware that she was the only person besides Toto who knew the reason why you weren’t celebrating with drinks.

“Ah, no, I can’t do it in this heat,” you said, hoping she’d buy it.

“I know what you mean…” said Bella, fortunately not questioning you any further as a very drunk Lewis Hamilton came sidling up to your table.

“Y/N, come dance!” he said, holding out a hand as an invite.

“I’m not sure I’m very good!” you protested with a sigh.

“C’mon,” he said, “Toto is missing you.”

Shaking your head you eased up from the low sofa, making sure to conceal your very slight bump with a well-placed arm.

Grabbing Lewis’ hand, you followed him through the throng of merry Mercedes team members to the centre of the dancefloor.

As you bumped along to the music, allowing Lewis to spin you around, you caught Toto out of the corner of your eye. He shot you a smile before mouthing “Are you feeling okay?”

You felt a rush of affection for him as even in his inebriated state he wanted to take care of you. Mouthing back “All good,” you continued to dance with Lewis, content to bop along.

“So. Can I be Godfather?” asked Lewis, sidling up to you and whispering in your ear, just loud enough for you to hear over the pumping music.

Your eyes widened, he clearly wasn’t as drunk as you’d surmised, “How did you know?”

“You’re not drinking, Toto kept putting his hand on your stomach earlier and he keeps looking over to check on you every five seconds.” said Lewis, “And that doesn’t answer my question.”

“Please don’t tell anyone,” you said. “And maybe. If you’re nice to me, and to Toto!”

Crinkling his eyes in a smile, Lewis scooped you into a bear hug, “I’m so happy for you both. This is beautiful man.”

EPILOGUE - TWO YEARS LATER

And beautiful it was. Having wrapped the eventful season your relationship with Toto had gone from strength to strength as you prepared for the birth of your baby. You’d met Toto’s family, including his children, something you had been incredibly nervous about. Fortunately, they had welcomed you with open arms and were eager to meet their new baby brother or sister. 

In turn, Toto had met your family, and although apprehensive at first due to the age gap, it hadn’t taken long for him to win them over. Although life hadn’t exactly gone as you’d planned, everything had quickly fallen into place.

Two years on from that fateful season you were living in Monaco with Toto and your toddler daughter, Sunny. The baby name debate had raged on but eventually, you’d settled on the unusual moniker, chosen as a nod to the city where you’d first met, Miami. 

Time had well and truly flown by and some days you could hardly believe it. You continued to work with the team, in your role that you now shared with Rosie, meaning that you only travelled to half the races. Toto had also taken a step back, passing over some of his Team Principal duties to Senior members of the team, allowing him to focus on the business side of things. 

As promised to the board on those fateful calls where you had to fight for your job, you’d brought on more ethical sponsors, brought more money and all-in-all improved the team for the better. Robert still continued to grumble but was always quickly silenced by numbers and statistics.

Your latest project was planning a farewell to the man who everyone knew would be going down in history as the greatest of all time. Lewis. Not an easy feat, he had fortunately entrusted you with his intent to retire before anyone else so you’d had plenty of time to plan. Over the years he had become a close friend and you wanted to do him justice. Now a nine-time WDC, Lewis was retiring to start a family of his own, something you knew he would excel at. True to your word, you and Toto had asked him to be Sunny’s Godfather, a task that he relished.

Rosie and George had also taken their relationship to the next level, getting engaged and due to marry the following year, it was heartwarming to know that another couple had found love in the paddock. Controversially, you and Toto had not yet tied the knot, purely down to the fact that you hadn’t had time. Toto had proposed not long before Sunny’s birth, getting down on one knee with one of the most dazzling diamond rings you had ever seen.

Snapping back to the present, you shook yourself out of your thoughts as you saw Toto coming into the room, Sunny under his arm babbling.

“How about at the end of August?” Toto asked.

“For what?” you asked, not sure what he was talking about.

“For the wedding,” he said, plopping down on the sofa beside you, seating Sunny on his lap.

“Mama!” the curly-haired toddler called out, stretching her tiny arms towards you. You knew you were biased but she was one of the cutest children you’d ever seen. Chocolate button eyes and dark brown curls, she was blessed with her Father’s dimples and your olive complexion, a lethal combination.

“Here mi amor,” you said, scooching her across for a snuggle, before nodding “August could work. But there is one issue”

Toto looked concerned, “What’s wrong?”

You broke into a wide smile, “I’m pregnant Toto.”

Toto’s brown eyes widened, “Again? Already?”

You laughed, Sunny giggling along with you, “Yep. Old man strikes again.”

Toto smiled, leaning across and putting his arm around you, “How did I get so lucky?”

“Papa!” said Sunny, this time reaching up for her Dad.

“Ooh, I think she wants her Daddy again.” you said, “It kills me that you’re her favourite.”

Taking the tiny girl in his arms, Toto smiled, “I don’t think so somehow.”

“I know so,” you said, looking at how your daughter gazed adoringly at Toto, their brown eyes identical. Glowing with pride at your beautiful family you patted your stomach tenderly, impatient to meet the new addition.

Sharing your thoughts, Toto beamed at you, “Do you remember the bet we made in Abu Dhabi two years ago?”

“Huh?” you said, not remembering.

“We agreed that if Lewis won the race, I could name the baby Paul or Niki,” he said with a grin, playing with the bouncing toddler on his lap.

“I do not remember this.” you said, “Was I asleep?”

“No, wide awake.” he said laughing, “Lewis won though and I want to know if I can cash my reward in on this one.”

“You are ridiculous,” you said with a fond smile, “I’ll think about it.”

“You know you love it.” he said, kissing you gently, “So maybe a Winter wedding then?”

“Sounds like a plan,” you replied, your heart full of love.

[tachimichishrine]

I swear no one does Higuchi justice like c’mon I’m BEGGING to be her cute wife that cooks for her whenever she comes from the Mafia. The chokehold she has on me is just *mwah* she’d be so sweet

also love your tachihara fanfiction it’s my dinner everyday <3

<never been crazy abt higuchi but writing for her just,,, it did smth ok- GAH HOW IS THERE NOT A SINGLE FIC OUT THERE FOR HER?? also you're so sweet ill be sure to feed u properly huheeheheh... thank you for your service to the tachi community btw, all the best w your writing n future fics ^w^ >

"housewife"

⫭◦⨝◦⫬

higuchi ichiyo x wife! reader

warnings: i attempt fluff again ; this is so short idk why, apologies my liege ; this is fiction bc there's no way i could cook smth and not poison my wife/ burn the house down in the process ,,, ; tw bath!! (/j it's all just fluff) ; l e s b i a n s ; love language is phys touch deal with it ; itty bitty cursing ; lowercase intended ; NOT proofread

you knew not to panic in such situations. waking up to disheveled sheets that had turned frigid, indicating that ichiyo had been gone too long. you allowed yourself to sleep in, given that you had the day off and decided you'd just lounge around, take a break and plan something nice for your lover in the meantime.

a stress-free period, but all you felt was anxiety when you dialed her number and got sent straight to voicemail repeatedly. this time, you decided you might as well actually leave a message when the line rang for too long.

"'chiyo, honey, call me back when you get this. just wanna make sure everything's okay, alright? I miss you already, love y-"

"who the hell is this?"

you'd been anticipating the automated voice so much that it barely registered that you didn't actually hear it this time, and a quick glance at the screen confirmed that you really were on call with someone on the other end of the line. the voice was raspy, definitely not hers, so you echoed back the question.

"um, who are you?" you challenged with a hand on your hip that they couldn't see.

except, instead of a response, you heard some distant voices on the other line, one rather hyper as it babbled something you interpreted as 'akutagawa-senpai!'. a few noises ensued along a brief chaos you couldn't see, and suddenly the phone was put back to someone's ear as they panted. you could recognize that heavy breathing anywhere.

"hey, hey, 'chiyo, what's going on?" you spoke softly, hoping she was alright and not trying to scare her.

she stuttered nervously. "sorry, I'm so sorry, I must've dropped my phone somewhere and akutagawa-senpai picked it up and-"

"woah, was that the akutagawa you're always talking about?" you couldn't believe it; after being with her for so long, you'd only ever heard stories about the people with whom she worked. you agreed that the kind of place where she operated was dangerous and it was better not to get yourself involved, so she kept you separated from everything she did. you appreciated the thought, but sometimes you felt a little frustrated that you couldn't meet the people in her life— you didn't even think they were aware ichiyo was married.

a tired sigh confirmed your theory. "look, [_____], I'll call you back when-"

"higuchi, who is that?"

akutagawa seemed to be speaking again, and quite frankly you didn't like his tone. if you were on speaker, you'd set him straight but for now you just listened to ichiyo ramble a response while not actually answering the question. he sounded tired of the bullshit and eventually the line was cut off harshly. something told you that you won't be able to call this number anymore.

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music played on the speaker as you hummed, tray of baked goods getting pulled out of the oven by your gloved mitten. the smell filled out the rather small place you shared with both your wife and sister-in-law, but the latter was out for the week on some kind of trip and left you all alone. you'd gotten used to ichiyo's erratic lifestyle, sometimes disappearing during the day and barely making it home at night. she sounded exhausted when she did arrive, so you didn't mind taking care of the little things.

proud of yourself, you put the assorted goods in various plates and left them on the table, waiting for her to come home. you couldn't call her, obviously, since it appears her boss had pulverized the device out of rage. you'd be worried if not for the fact that, based on her stories, it seemed this was a regular occurrence and she didn't mind it. you'd feel jealous of the man if it weren't for the fact that she fawned over you much harder in all the days you'd known her. she knows what she wants and does everything to get it, you'll give her that. by nature, ichiyo was incredibly caring and it was difficult to hold that against her

something was in your hands as you lounged on the couch, passing the time: a book, your phone, anything to keep your mind occupied. the sun had set and you were getting impatient, as nighttime meant she was going to be out until the early hours and might even come home with a particular scent on her clothing that resembled blood and death. how a person so sweet, so feeling could get into this kind of business was beyond you, much less how she could last thing long. she once told you that the only reason she could keep her mind this long was coming home to your soft kisses and pampering.

a clicking of the front lock and the creaking that ensued signaled that you were about to do that once more, and you strolled over to the entrance with an excited smile.

"welcome home, 'chiyo, how wa-" you caught yourself off when you saw a splatter of crimson along her cheek. your lips tugged downwards into a frown as a reflex, and you sighed gently once you saw her expression. she seemed so conflicted, not about whatever crime she'd done but about making you worry so quickly. "hey, hey, it's okay, c'mere."

with that, you pulled her into your embrace and set a kiss on her hair. it still smelled like that shampoo you'd bought her, a subtle vanilla and chamomile that reminded you of her. her entire body slumped into your strong arms, and she let you drag her across the house, shedding her shoes, meticulously pulling the elastic out of her hair to let her messy bun fall into a bob, then helping her out of her unbuttoned jacket. you pulled her body into yours as you laid down on the couch again, but this time with her head shoved into your chest, which was one of her favourite things to do.

"wanna talk about it?" you asked, dumbly, one of your regular antics. of course she wanted to talk about it; she did an awful job keeping things to herself anyways.

so, you listened carefully while she recounted stories with fake names to keep you protected and vague details in certain places, specific in others. she didn't seem hungry, so you just skipped the food for now and dragged her to your bedroom. you were about to throw her pajamas and get her to change so you could just lay down in bed for the evening, but the burgundy was darkening on patches on her arm and you couldn't help but stare at it.

"—so akutawaga-senpai showed up and I felt a little stupid but he-" you interrupted her by grabbing her shoulders and giving her a little shake.

"honey, can we clean off... that..." you danced around the topic, but she knew exactly what you meant when your eyes kept darting to certain areas of her skin. she nodded and you gave her a quick kiss on her forehead. "I'll run the bath and we can scrub it off. keep going, I'm listening."

she continued speaking as you did exactly that and eventually both of you were stripped and laying down in the tub. she was sitting in between your legs, with her back resting on your chest and head leaning back to rest on your shoulder. you traced her body, rubbing into certain patches until her skin was back to its beautiful glow. the warmth of both her and the water was too comforting, and you stayed longer than needed, your fingertips turning raisin-like in protest. despite this, you leaned down to kiss her up and down her neck while you gently massaged her flesh from her thighs to her hips, her stomach to her breasts. if she wasn't so tired that she eventually ran out of steam and stopped talking just to revel in your embrace, you might've handled her a little differently. yet, at this moment the only desire you had was to pamper her.

"ichiyo..." you breathed out slowly, lips grazing her ear while you kissed her again and spread out your fingers over her stomach. "mmmmn... 'missed you... i love you s'much..."

god, you would break her if you kept this up. so long together that you finally managed to put a ring on it yet she still fangirled over you like you were her high school crush. even as you pulled yourselves out of the sanctuary of steam and warmth in order to actually eat, she blushed every time you left a quick peck on her cheek or rubbed noses while chuckling softly.

she fell asleep in your arms, with her leg on top of you pulling you close like her very own plushie. it was hard not to smile at her once she began snoring and murmuring something about akutagawa during her slumber.

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.

hand in hand, you snuggled up in big jackets in the middle of the night to fend off the frigid breeze. holding onto your fingers wasn't enough, and ichiyo was fully clinging onto your bicep as you walked with her in the empty streets of yokohoma.

"this s-sounded so m-much more fun when w-we were inside... warm... by the f-fireplace.." her teeth chattered and she pulled herself closer into you.

"you were the one who suggested getting something from the café," you retorted with a chuckle, opposite hand brought up to tuck her hair behind her ear that was starting to turn pink from the cold. you rubbed your thumb along her cheek which was going through something similar, then sighed with a cloud of hot breath. "alright, honey we'll head in. i think there's another one on this street, we can just stay there and warm up before we go back, mkay?"

she would feel a bit ashamed about being so demanding if you hadn't pulled her in tighter and looked at her so lovingly. she had such an impossible time never believing she was capable enough at the mafia, and that discomfort disappeared as soon as you whispered sweet nothings into her ear and made her feel like everything was alright.

you turned your bodies together, door jingling as you stepped inside and the air blowing down from the heater hitting you. you realized that she was right, it was too damn cold outside, as soon as you felt the contrast of the inside. you turned towards your lover with a quick look to see if her body was as relieved as yours, but she was staring at something intensely on the horizon, like she'd seen a ghost.

you followed her gaze, and it fell on a man with tuffs of white in his hair standing next to a woman, slightly shorter but with noticeably long stands of black veiling the sides of her face.

"do you know them?" you whispered, and she jumped a little. part of her wanted to drag you outside, but she couldn't lie to you or keep things no matter how much her common sense told her to.

"that's... they're..." she was struggling to say something, anything, but you noticed she was letting herself get flustered. in these kinds of situations, you liked to interrupt her with a kiss to bring her back to earth from her constantly overreacting mind.

she pulled away before your lips could touch.

she'd never done that before.

you knew better, that this was probably a question of her not wanting the pda right now or maybe it had something to do with the duo standing over there waiting for their drinks, but it hurt nonetheless when you saw her squint her eyes shut and shake her head.

"that's akutagawa," she whispered as an explanation, and you felt simultaneously irritated and relieved, the former due to the fact that it confirmed that she hadn't told her boss that she was in a relationship, much less married. you understood why but it didn't sting any less.

"who's the girl?" you followed up, trying not to think about it too deeply. "is that.. uh... gin?"

she nodded meekly, and it was impossible to stay mad for long when she was so cute. you slid your hand around her waist, turning her around so that her back was to the pair and they wouldn't recognize her while she spoke to you. your voice dropped so low she could barely hear it. "should we get out of here so they don't see us? I'm not that cold, I can wait outside if it makes you more comfortable, honey."

how could she ask you to do something like that when your words were so caring, so honest? she took a deep breath and shook her head once more. in one impossibly fast motion you found yourself on the other end of the shop, standing in front of the man.

"akutagawa-senpai!" ichiyo exclaimed just a bit too loudly for this time of the day and the serenity of the empty café. she bowed her head down, speaking incredibly quickly. "I don't mean to interrupt your evening but it's come to my attention that you don't know that I'm married and this is my wife her name is [_____] and she's wonderful and-"

"'chiyo, he won't be able to understand what you're saying," you laughed softly, cutting her off as you placed your hand on her back reassuringly before addressing her boss with a respectful nod. "it's nice to finally meet you, akutagawa-san. I've heard a lot about you."

he barely bothered to acknowledge you, but the slight twitch in the spot that should've housed his eyebrows signaled that he was shocked. your smile grew wider when you looked to his sister who was sporting the same look. you pulled ichiyo against you from her hip as if to prove that she was indeed yours, and spoke slowly to explain snippets of the current situation. gin listened carefully without a word while the man tried his very best to seem completely uninterested.

as much as you wanted to learn everything there was to know about ichiyo's other side, eventually his drink was ready and he barely excused himself as he walked out. you watched him do so, and gin nodded to you and said something about how nice it was to make your acquaintance in a meek voice before quickly following him out. you waved, and noticed akutagawa watching you do so warmly before burying his face in his coat and scampering off.

"well," you giggled, turning back towards ichiyo, "that wasn't so bad. she's cute and he's an ass, but I trust your judgement in people."

you could practically see stars in her eyes; she rambled to you the entire walk home - during which she didn't complain about the cold a single time and was nearly bouncing off the sidewalk - about how much he clearly loved you based on his expression (apparently the fact that he didn't try to kill you on the spot was a sure sign of his support). she was so excited she even suggested bringing you with her to the port mafia tomorrow, but you stopped her and told her to slow down for just one second. you loved that she was so passionate about her emotions, but you wanted to talk and think this through before you did anything.

for tonight, though, you let her radiate with happiness as she jumped on top of you, making the mattress creak while she climbed up to sit on your lap and curl her fingers around the fabric of your shirt. your hands on her hips, she sat down with her knees bent on either side of you like a frog and leaned so you were chest-to-chest. she tickled your skin to draw out soft giggles while she peppered you with kisses, littering you with her best efforts to repay just a fraction of what you did for her. you rubbed her thighs in long, loving motions and brought her up so she was sitting on your hips instead. you wanted her closer, and she was happy to oblige as she kissed your lips.

"[_____]," she said, smiling into you, "I'm so lucky..."

you cut her off with a press upwards and a firm grip. "shhh, don't say anything. I love you, you love me and that's all we need."

she murmured your name that night in her sleep instead of akutagawa's.

[pureartistchaos]

Here's the entirety of the grocery store Rocky Horror fic because I feel like it belongs on this app

(Also @bradassholemajors asked me to post it sooo...)

-

"Frank, I really don't think this is necessary."

Frank dramatically flicked his hand, lowering his sunglasses to see the face of a very uncomfortable Columbia. "Well, you are the one who was complaining about our choice of food. I'm just trying to stop your incessant whining."

"Meatloaf every single night is a bit excessive, is all! And I meant your outfit."

Frank scoffed. "I'm just trying to look presentable."

"...We're going to a Price Chopper." Janet said softly.

"And?" Frank challenged.

"And you're wearing 9 in heels, a corset, enough jewlery to put a Victorian child into a coma, and fishnets." Brad said flatly, pulling out his wallet.

"So? At least I look good. You look like you work at the price chopper." Frank retorted.

“We’re here.” Riffraff sighed, pulling the car over. “Please, just get out.”

“Thank you.” Frank smiled. “Remember, I expect the whole castle to be clean and dinner to be made when we get back.”

“You’ve told us enough times.” Magenta sighed, helping Frank out.

“Clearly not- not if you’re still complaining.” Frank rolled his eyes, stepping out of the car and dragging Brad with him.

“...Rocky and I are going to go look for some uh- bottled water! Yeah.” Brad announced, promptly sprinting off with Rocky on his heels, casting an apologetic look at Janet.

“I’m gonna go with him!” Columbia added, sprinting after the two of them.

“I guess it’s just you and me, Weiss.” Frank smirked, putting a hand around Janet’s waist. His hand was promptly swatted off.

“Unfortunately.” Janet muttered, walking inside. She pretended to look at a front display of something she didn’t want, nor did she need.

“Oh, lighten up. Brad told me you love shopping.” Frank hummed, walking into an aisle. “Ooh, this looks good! It looks like that sports drink Brad gave to Rocky… gatorade, or something?” He asked, picking up a bottle with neon blue liquid.

“...Frank, that’s windex.” Janet replied, mortified.

“Windex… I’ve never heard of it.” He shrugged, tossing it in the cart.

“Frank, you- you’ll get poisoned if you drink that.”

“Ohhh! Relax, dear, human alcohol doesn’t affect me.”

“No-” Janet sighed, putting the Windex back. “It’s a cleaning product, Frank. For windows and stuff.”

“Oh.” Frank shrugged, putting it back in the cart. “Well, that’s a gift for Magenta, then.”

“Isn’t it rude to give her-”

“Nonsense. She needs it.” Frank sighed. “Oh, Rocky would get it. I don’t know why he likes you of all people.”

“I don’t know why Brad likes you of all people.”

“And why is that? Everyone likes me!” Frank replied over his shoulder, looking at nail polish.

“Yeah, you keep telling yourself that.” Janet spat. “I’m gonna go find my fiance.”

“You still have one of those?” Frank crossed his arms.

“Just help me find Brad!” Janet snapped, marching off.

“The sign says bottled water is the other way!” Frank called after her.

“I’LL WORK MY WAY AROUND TO IT!” Janet shouted back.

Frank shrugged and walked towards the water. He regretted it instantly when he saw Rocky on the floor, flailing his arms and having a tantrum like a literal toddler.

“...He wanted a chocolate bar.” Columbia explained.

“No way. He knows he isn't allowed.” Frank snapped quickly. He seemed to instantly regret his words when Rocky screamed louder and threw a chocolate bar at him. “...Oh, my.”

“What do we do?!” Columbia asked, panicked.

“Uh- Brad will handle it!” Frank announced, pushing Brad forward.

“WHY ME?!”

“BECAUSE YOU'RE GOOD AT THIS!”

“Just let him have the damn chocolate bar!”

“No! He's only allowed to eat-”

“DUCK!” Columbia shrieked as another chocolate bar flew at them.

“Please, Frank, just let him have it!” Brad begged.

“...Fine! Fine, he can have one! Just make him stop!”

“I heard yelling!” Janet ran into the aisle.

Columbia crossed her arms. “Well, no shit.”

“Here, Rocky, you can have it.” Brad timidly offered Rocky a chocolate bar, as if he was afraid of him. Rocky instantly stopped yelling and everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

The relief was short-lived as Frank took it back. “...But we have to pay for it first.”

Rocky instantly started screaming again. Columbia covered her ears. “SHIT!”

“GODDAMMIT FRANK, YOU COULDN'T HAVE LET HIM HOLD IT?!” Brad yelled, taking it back and returning it to Rocky.

“But he can't eat it yet!”

“HE KNOWS THAT!”

“It's okay, Rocky…” Janet said softly, kneeling down to him. “You can hold it.”

“You all sicken me.” Frank scoffed. “I'm finding some actual food for him.”

“I'll go too. To make sure he actually buys food.” Brad announced, walking off behind Frank.

“He almost drank Windex.” Janet explained softly.

“...Sometimes I wonder what I see in him.” Columbia confessed, picking up one of the chocolates from the floor and putting it back on the shelf.

“Sometimes I wonder what Brad sees in him.”

Columbia gasped. “You mean-”

Janet sighed, clutching the sleeve of her dress like it could protect her. “I have a feeling.”

“It's not just him.” Columbia reassured her. “He's a good guy… Frank just does that sort of thing to people.”

“I still feel ashamed he did it to me…”

Columbia smirked, glancing between Janet and Rocky. “He's not the only one.”

“I- I was in the moment! I was stressed, and he- oh… oh, I'm terrible, aren't I?” Janet looked down shamefully.

“Not in this castle, you aren't.” Columbia rested a gentle hand on Janet’s shoulder, and they shared a smile for a few moments before Columbia suddenly broke off. “Come on, let's get the boys. I don't think Magenta will appreciate trying to cook with whatever Frank assumes is food.”

“We could just go out to eat.” Janet agreed.

“Then let's go.”

“Wait.” Janet stopped her to grab a bottle of wine. She hesitated and grabbed two.

“Two? Damn, Weiss, you have no shame.”

“Shut up. Something tells me we're gonna need them.” Janet snapped, handing Columbia a bottle and helping Rocky off the ground. They were about to head out of the aisle when a security guard approached them.

“Is one of you… er… Columbia? Am I reading that right?” He asked.

“Yes.” Columbia stepped forward.

“Your friend is outside. And… Janet, I presume? So is your fiance.” He said promptly. As he walked away, Janet heard him mumble “Fucking weirdos”.

“I wonder what they did to get kicked out?” Janet asked worriedly.

“Knowing Frank? I'm surprised it took him this long to get kicked out. But Brad?” Columbia scoffed.

The two walked cautiously to the front with Rocky in tow, and found Frank standing there angrily, ranting to Brad.

“And I didn’t even do anything wrong! It's their fault for making the robot so stupid.” Frank scoffed.

“Exactly! Plus, if they didn't want it to be punchable-”

“What did you do?” Janet asked angrily.

“Um… listen, Janet-” Brad started.

“He punched the storekeeper robot thing.” Frank smirked.

“HE WHAT?!” Janet shrieked. Columbia just sighed and opened the wine- which they had not paid for- and took a long drink of it.

“It wouldn't move so Frank could get the bread!” Brad protested. “And it kept beeping.”

“I already called Magenta from the phone in the store.” Frank sighed. “She is on her way.”

“CORRECTION, SHE'S ALREADY HERE!” Magenta yelled from the car, driving up to the curb. “Get in, before we get in more trouble.”

Everyone nodded and promptly got in the car, not even buckling in before Magenta sped off.

Brad gasped when he saw what Columbia was holding. “Did you pay for that wine?!”

“Nope.” Columbia smirked, offering some to Janet. Janet wordlessly took it and downed half the bottle, while Columbia turned to Magenta. “Can you take us to McDonald’s, please?”

“Can-” Frank protested.

“Rocky can eat it.” Columbia snapped back.

Magenta sighed. “You owe me,” she scoffed as she turned the car around.

“Thank you.” Columbia smiled back.

...

“Rocky, no, the toy isn't food.” Frank scolded, taking the small Hello Kitty toy away from him.

“Why do they put those in the boxes?” Magenta asked, taking a sip of her coffee. “Also, this coffee is shit.”

“That's kinda the point of the place.” Brad sighed. “Rocky, no, don't eat the- you eat the chicken nuggets! These things!”

“I'll take them if he doesn't want them.” Columbia smirked, eating her own and taking a sip of her Dr. Pepper.

“Eat your own food.” Frank replied, hesitantly taking a bite of his hot fudge sundae.

“Says the one who's barely eaten anything.”

“I'm surprised they let us bring the alcohol in here.” Janet added.

“I worked here when I was sixteen. They don't pay you enough to care.” Columbia explained.

“Thanks for paying for all this, Brad.” Janet smiled.

“Wait, I paid for this? I thought Columbia did!” Brad sat up.

“I did! With your credit card.” Columbia laughed, passing the card back. “You can have this back- I doubt it'll be very useful after this, though.”

[johnwickb1tsch]

you're the worst thing (i'm addicted to) Part 5

a john wick x Helen'sSister!Reader fic You are Helen's baby sister. When you meet John Wick at Helen's graveside, he invites you to dinner to celebrate her birthday. Set a few years after the first movie, 2-4 never happened. Use of y/n. Warnings: canon typical violence. Future reference to threat of noncon, (not John! because he's our assassin sweetiepie). Mourning. Smut. Grey areas. Questionable decisions. Sweetheart!John, BAMF!John Depressed!John - If you can handle the movie you should be fine here... PART 1 PART 2 PART 3 PART 4

PART 5.

“I really hate this building,” he grouses as you push through the security door without challenge. He sounds grumpy, and it’s almost…cute. You’re not used to having anyone worrying after you like this.

“I’ve never had a problem here,” you try to assure him.

He gives one last hostile look over the street like he expects a horde of marauders to come charging after you. But there’s just streetlights, and the few harmless hipsters who are still out and about on a Friday night. This city never really sleeps.

“Do you at least have protection in your apartment?”

You reckon he doesn’t mean condoms.

“What, like a gun?”

“Yes.”

“No,” you laugh. “I have a bat under my bed?”

He makes a sound through his teeth that indicates that is not the answer he wanted to hear. Again, you stumble on that stupid odd riser, and again he grabs for you, holding your waist with an arm that feels like steel, practically carrying you up the next three steps. He is tense, on edge after the fight, his eyes sweeping the shadows of your stairwell.

You hope that once you get him inside your apartment, he might calm down. For once the tumblers yield without a fight, and you pull him inside, locking the deadbolt again behind you. “Come sit down. Let me look at you.”

Instead he strides to the window, looking out over the street with a suspicious glare. He is manic, going to every window that faces the street and closing blinds and curtains. Then he stands vigil again, looking out through a crack in the blinds, his jaw clenched. He stands like that for a good minute before you insist, “John.”

He reminds you of a hawk, the way he turns his head to look at you without moving the rest of his body.

“It’s ok, honey. Do you want a drink?”

He lets out a deep breath, maybe relaxing a tad, though he’s still grinding his bottom teeth. “Sure.”

You know his poison of choice now. It’s possible you picked up a nicer bottle of bourbon than what you had on offer last time, a small batch vintage.

“Sit,” you insist, pointing at one of your chairs in the living room. You know it sounds like a command, but it seems like the only way to get through to him in this hyper-fixated state. After a long moment he finally obeys, lowering himself down into the cushioned seat with the weariness of a man ten years his elder. He seems as though he has done this all before—and he doesn’t like it anymore.

“You’re taking all this rather well,” he remarks, gratefully accepting the cut crystal glass from you, slugging back half of it.

“Well...that guy was an asshole.” You shudder as your think about what Sasha intended to do to you, and how he’d undoubtedly treated other women before you who didn’t have someone like John on their side. “A knife in the leg was the least he deserved. You taught him a lesson he won't forget.”

“Yeah. Too bad these guys aren't big on self-reflection. They prefer revenge.”

“You think they’ll come after you?”

“It’s not me I’m worried about.”

You digest this, chewing on your bottom lip. “I can’t imagine how they could even find me,” you try to assure him. “It’s a huge city.”

The look he pays you isn’t exactly condescending, but it definitely makes you feel like he finds you naïve.

“Did you pay for your first round of drinks with cash?”

“No, credit card.”

He nods, like that’s all they would need.

“Seriously?”

“They have their ways.”

“Who are they, exactly?”

“I feel like it would be better if you didn’t know.”

“Oh no, we’re not doing that,” you say with your hands on your hips. “If someone’s coming after me, you’re going to tell me who.”

The wistful smile that twists his lips unexpected. “What?” you ask, unable to mask your annoyance.

“It’s just…I feel like I’ve had this conversation before.”

You realize you must remind him of Helen, with your no-male-bullshit attitude. It makes your heart ache at the same time it fills with pride. “Well, I learned from the best.”

You stare at each other for a long moment, and you feel your annoyance melt away as you study this man, so forbidding and yet beneath it all, a little fragile. You see it in his eyes, and there’s still blood on his brow, and you decide you want to patch him up more than you want to argue with him.

For now.

Maybe he feels some obligation to take care of you because of Helen, but it goes both ways. You know Helen would want you to make sure he’s taken care of too. You feel a little guilty that it’s taken this long.

“I’m going to go get my first aid kit. We’ll clean you up, then you can decide what you want to tell me. FYI, the less you know the better is not acceptable tonight.”

“Yes ma’am.”

You cannot tell if he is amused, exasperated, or maybe both.

You return from the bathroom with your medicine chest, thunking it down on the coffee table. “Want another?” you ask, gesturing at his empty glass.

“Yes, but I shouldn’t. Good stuff.” You smile to yourself, wondering if your previous offering had been closer on the scale to paint thinner, remembering how he’d drank it anyway because he was a sweetheart. He was a conundrum, was what he was. This man was dangerous, and after what you’d seen earlier, you suspected he was possibly a killer. And yet, he was sweet. So sweet, at least to you, and those he considered friends. The warmth that bloomed in your chest for him was alarmingly not exactly—or not exclusively—lust related.

“Ouch,” you sigh, inspecting his brow. It’s a deep cut, and might actually require a butterfly. You won’t know until you clean it up.

You actually possess a passable first aid kit. Sometimes, art projects involving blades go awry, and you are in the habit of taking care of your ailments yourself. The cost of healthcare is utterly obscene, and until recently, out of your budget.

John lets you fuss over him, sitting still as a statue as you cleanse his wounds with saline solution then slather him with some antibacterial goop. Though you still feel a bit sick, and a bit giddy from the adrenaline, luckily your hands have stopped shaking. You do affix one butterfly closure to his noble brow, just in case. His eyes are closed, almost as though he is enjoying your ministrations, even though you know it can’t actually feel good.

“I’m not sure what else to do for this,” you say, touching his split lip lightly with a gauze pad, dabbing away the blood.

“It’s fine,” he sighs. “I’ve had worse.”

“I’m sorry you got hurt,” you say.

This could be an excellent window for him to really tell you what’s going on. You suspect he’s purposely distracting you when he reaches for you, tracing the line of your waist before his large hands settle on your hips, pulling you closer between his manspread legs.  

“I’m feeling better now.” He looks up at you with those soulful dark eyes, and goddammit they should be considered an illegal weapon.

You know you should insist on answers before giving in, but your resolve utterly dissolves under his touch and that longing look, replaced with heady desire. This thing between you is a force to be reckoned with; it obliterates your good sense, your sense of propriety, your loyalty to your late sister. Anything that might have stopped you with anyone else ceased to matter with this beautiful man.

You are not sure if he pulls you, or if you just melt down into his lap, straddling him. His long fingers splay on your legs, pushing your skirts up your thighs, sliding higher and higher until he cups your ass with only your panties between you.

“My knight in shining black armor,” you sigh, touching his cheek lightly, wary of causing him pain. You think you see a bruise forming beneath the scruff of his beard.

“Hmm. It’s nice to be the hero, for once.” 

“Are you usually the bad guy, John?”

His touch is feather light down your legs again, then up your spine and the backs of your arms, causing you to shudder uncontrollably. “You have no idea, sweetheart.”

“I think I’m forming an idea,” you admit breathily.

“My clever girl. What ever shall I do with you?” You’re not sure why his praise makes heat and slick pool between your legs, as though you are melting from the inside for this man. His hands are in your hair now, his touch still so gentle, but oh so maddening. Your skin feels like its on fire.

You kiss him gently, because of the split lip. He is the one who deepens it, with a growing desperation and a disregard for his own pain that you find insanely titillating. His mouth travels down your neck, trailing kisses and grazing with teeth as though he means to eat you alive.

You would let him, gladly, and you writhe against him, grinding on the length of his hard cock beneath you. You didn’t even get to see it last time. Tonight, you determine you will remedy that.

Fingers hooked in the straps of your dress pull down, down and down until you are bared before him. His hand in your hair pulls, gentle but exacting, guiding you to arch your back, offering up your breasts for his delectation. His mouth on your nipples is pure magic, sucking and biting and flicks of tongue that drive you to the absolute brink. He could make you cum just like this, you think, with his mouth on your tits and riding his rock-hard cock through his pants.

It hardly seems fair, considering last time, you somehow manage to think through the fog of desire that has you so tied up in knots. You push against him, sliding down his body until you are on your knees before him. He watches you with such blatantly raw hunger it makes your legs weak; he knows exactly what you’re doing, and doesn’t have the will to tell you no. He watches you intensely as you reach for his belt, flipping it open. There is a weight on the belt that confuses you for a moment, until his hand goes behind his back, catching something.

“Don’t be afraid,” he says, and you can’t think straight enough to even entertain it. He pulls out a small black blocky object—it takes you a moment to realize it’s a gun. You've never really seen one in real life until tonight, just in the movies. You are more curious than fearful as he sets it gingerly on the table. The possibility does not even register that he could be a threat to you. After everything you’ve seen tonight, this is just par for the course, and you return to your task with gusto, whipping his belt from their loops with a satisfying snap.

You cannot hide the fact that you are utterly pleased with yourself, and the corners of his mouth twitch, his hand caressing your cheek. You finish undoing his pants with your eyes half closed, so entranced by his light touch, until his manhood springs free into your hand, hot and velvety and oh my he is large. You roll your eyes up to meet his before descending upon him, slowly taking his swollen glans between your lips, swirling him with your tongue.

“Fuck, baby…”

The hand in your hair is not so gentle now; you don’t think he realizes he’s pulling, as you slowly take his length into the back of your throat, toying with the vein with your tongue. You slide more of him into your mouth, knowing you'll never be able to fit it all, but so willing to try. You bob up and down slowly, grazing him very carefully with your teeth, winning the most delicious moan from this man who is usually such a bastion of self-control. 

His fingers comb through your hair, sending chills all down your body as you work him up and down. The tips of your bare breasts brushing his tautly muscled thighs sends spears of longing to your loins, and you press your legs for some relief.

It doesn’t work, but you are enjoying this, and you want to treat him, the way he treated you so generously before. He’s taken a beating for you, fought and bled for you, protected you, and you want to thank him in the most primal way you know how. You take him deeper into the back of your throat, as deep as you can go, savoring every thick inch of this magnificent cock. What a thing of beauty. He groans, and you would have smiled if not for the mouthful.

“Baby...so good to me.” His hips rock against you of their own volition, his grip tightening in your hair. “Touch yourself for me. I want to feel you cum with your mouth sucking my cock.”

He doesn't have to invite you twice. Your fingers find your weeping slit, toying with your clit while you go down on him. You find a rhythm like this, sucking him in time to touching yourself. Maybe it’s a little self serving, but then again...there is something cosmic in this. Something timeless and primal and he seems to be enjoying it all the more with your participation, the vibration of your moans teasing his hard shaft.

You feel that scintillating pleasure gathering in your loins, know you are close. Your pleasure almost takes you by surprise, it is so swift and violent, your body spasming with the mindnumbing explosion inside you. After last time, it’s almost the most intense orgasm you’ve ever had. You take him into your throat fully and he cums with you, no warning, just the hot spill of his seed down your throat, filling your mouth. You swallow it greedily, only withdrawing when he stills beneath you.

You nearly collapse against his lean legs, your cheek resting on his lean thigh. This man is made of muscle and sinew. Through hooded eyes he caresses your face, toying with your hair. You shudder with aftershocks that are almost as pleasurable as the orgasm itself. You feel triumph as those burning dark eyes slide closed, overcome by afterglow, and maybe something else you don't care to name now.

“My sweet girl. You...are a marvel."

Something inside you blooms at hearing those soft words from him.

Slowly you sit up, stretching against him, using his hard body to help push you to your feet. Without a word you step out of your lacy pink panties and stick them in his jacket like a pocket square. He glances down with a lifted eyebrow, a small smirk pulling the corner of his mouth.

He’s so beautiful you could scream. 

“Something to add to your collection,” you quip, alluding to the fact that even though he practically fled last time, you know he took your undies with him.

“I will treasure them as much as the last pair,” he admits with a woebegone smile that crushes your heart.

Your legs are trembling beneath you, and you hold out a hand to him, inviting him to follow you. “Snuggle with me?”

A few long moments pass, until you think he might reject the idea, but then he takes your smaller mitt in his and tugs you down into his lap. It is silly, how secure you feel curled up in this man’s arms, your head finding the warm crook of his neck. His masculine smell is utterly divine, and you could fall asleep there, with his long fingers stroking your hair. You snuggle in the quiet aftermath, spent and ever so content.

This might be what heaven feels like.

You’re not sure how much time has passed, when he brushes his lips against the top of your head and asks, “What would you say to packing a bag and coming to my place for the weekend?”

The suggestion takes you aback. Heat floods you as you think about just what you would get up to on a long weekend away at Casa Wick.

It certainly wouldn't be innocent.

Your little bubble of carnal pleasure bursts when you think of everything that happened outside your apartment, before you pleasured each other into a mind-numbed stupor.

“I would say I feel like you have an ulterior motive besides enjoying my company.”

“I do enjoy your company.”

“And I think you think I'm in danger. Are you ready to talk about that?”

“Am I allowed to say no?”

“No.”

He huffs with laughter, clearly amused with you. But behind it all, you see the shadow of worry in his eyes, a tension at the corners of his mouth. “Come home with me, and we can talk about there.”

You tilt your head, wondering if he would be so diabolical as to fuck you into a blissfully complacent stupor so he didn’t have to answer your questions the whole weekend. You’ve never been good at taking orders—or hell, even advice—at face value. You like to make decisions—read mistakes—for yourself. But maybe, just this once, you could have faith that someone has your best interests at heart. He’s older than you, maybe wiser, and seems to know a little something you don’t about the workings of the underworld of New York City. As surreal as it seems...you could actually be in serious danger.

Seeing that you are still thinking, he sweetens the pot, nuzzling the shell of your ear with his nose. “I will cook for you and spoil you rotten.”

You can only imagine what carnal delights spoiling implies with this man.  

Well…fuck.

“Fine. I’ll pack a bag. But we are just postponing this Q & A.”

“Fair enough.” You extricate yourself from his lap with a stretch, and he gives you a light smack on your rear as you make your way for your bedroom. When you turn to look at him with a raised eyebrow he pays you a panty-melting (if you’d been wearing any) smirk that turns your brain to mush.

This man.

It occurs to you that this man is, in fact, dangerous to you. Not in terms of violence, but…you sense in yourself that if he asked nicely, you just might give him anything. You understand more than ever how and why Helen fell so quickly for John Wick, as you find yourself surrendering to your addiction to him with a secret smile.

<<PART 4 PART 6>>