#sandwich is called sandy

[eclipixnova]

Sandy :

"Hey! Croi, you actually... Opened your door?..."

"It's been a while... But hey! One step closer to getting the group back! Come on, we gotta get Pink and Izza!"

* Sandy walks with you through FARAWAY TOWN.

[fried-manto]

What if Genderbend Hero's name is Heroine because she likes to smoke weed-

[starweed]

haven’t done this in a few days cause i forgot

but something that made me happy today was that i ate a really good sandwich

[solxamber]

Summer Nights with: Housewardens + Jamil

Riddle Rosehearts: Sunset Picnic

The beach is glowing in the soft, honeyed light of the setting sun as you and Riddle set up your little picnic. The spread he prepared is impressive—tiny sandwiches cut to geometrically perfect triangles, fresh fruit neatly sliced, and, of course, a beautiful tea set because Riddle wouldn’t dare let you drink from anything less.

He’s organized every detail down to the napkins, each one folded with the kind of precision only Riddle could manage on a sandy beach.

“Everything looks amazing, Riddle,” you say, grinning as he finishes laying out the plates. You reach for one of the sandwiches, hesitating, and he gives you a small nod of approval, that familiar little quirk of his lips barely there but unmistakably proud. It’s a face he probably doesn’t realize he’s making, and it fills you with a warm, giddy feeling.

“I wanted to ensure everything was perfect,” he says, a little stiff but earnest. “Picnics require planning and, naturally, precise arrangements.” He starts to explain why certain foods pair better with the salty sea air, but you can’t stop watching the light catch in his red hair, the way it glows warm and bright as the sun dips lower. You try not to laugh too loudly when he catches you staring, stumbling over his words as his face flushes a deeper red than you thought possible.

It’s when you’re halfway through a pastry that a gull decides to make a surprise swoop in for an attempt at dessert. Riddle bats it away with the napkin he’d just set perfectly, muttering something about “unacceptable behavior from public wildlife” before composing himself and offering you his arm for a stroll along the beach. It’s such a typical Riddle response that you have to bite back a laugh, feeling a strange, happy ache in your chest.

You link arms with him, and the two of you start walking along the shoreline as the sun continues to melt into the horizon. He’s close, close enough that his shoulder bumps yours with each step, and you feel the warmth radiate from him even as a cool evening breeze begins to settle in. Riddle is quiet for a few moments, looking out toward the waves, his face soft and thoughtful.

“This evening is…” he begins, and you can tell he’s searching for the right words. “It’s quite…pleasant, isn’t it?”

You smile at his careful choice of words, a classic understatement. “Riddle, you’ve outdone yourself. It’s perfect,” you say, squeezing his arm.

He relaxes a bit, giving you that tiny, almost shy smile he only shares when you’re alone like this. “I’m…glad you’re enjoying yourself. It isn’t often that I get to do something so…free,” he admits, glancing away as his ears pinken.

You walk on in comfortable silence, letting your feet sink into the cool sand. The only sounds are the gentle crash of waves and the soft squish of your steps. And then, impulsively, you let go of his arm, running forward to splash through the shallow waves. He stares, caught off guard, before breaking into a smile that’s full and bright, his laugh surprising and infectious as he watches you dodge the incoming surf.

“Come on, Riddle!” you call, extending a hand toward him. “No rules, remember?”

He hesitates only a second before slipping off his shoes and stepping in, a bit awkward but determined as he lets you pull him along. He doesn’t protest as the water laps around his ankles, nor does he scold you when you pull him right into a particularly big wave. His only response is a rare, playful smile as he lifts an arm to shield himself from the splash, then softly grips your hand, steadying you both as you stumble from laughing.

The stars begin to dot the sky, and the last traces of sunlight fade to a gentle indigo. Riddle’s voice is soft when he speaks next. “I never would have done something like this,” he admits, his eyes on the distant waves. “Not until you… You’ve changed my life in more ways than I thought possible.”

Your heart flutters, and the sincerity in his gaze makes it impossible to joke, even though your instinct is to lighten the moment. “You mean everything to me, Riddle. Really.”

His hand tightens in yours, his expression shifting to something so tender it makes your breath catch. “Thank you,” he murmurs, voice barely a whisper. “I never thought I’d feel so…so at ease. Especially not here with—well, anyone.” He clears his throat, looking away briefly before meeting your gaze again, his eyes soft, vulnerable in a way that makes your heart race.

You stand there in silence, lost in each other’s eyes, the cool waves washing over your feet. Eventually, Riddle leans forward, brushing a soft, lingering kiss against your forehead. It’s delicate, hesitant, as if he’s savoring each second.

When he pulls back, he lets out a tiny breath, then nods, his cheeks a lovely shade of pink. “Shall we continue?” he asks, the corners of his mouth lifting in a gentle, almost bashful smile.

You nod, linking arms once more as you walk back, each step filled with an unspoken promise, the kind of love that feels more boundless than the sea itself.

Leona: Stargazing

The night’s air was soft and warm, perfect for lying under the stars. Leona and you had managed to find a quiet spot, away from the crowds and even farther from prying eyes, just outside the city’s lights. Blankets spread across the grass, you leaned back, letting the cool, green scent of the earth mix with the distant murmur of the breeze.

Leona, as usual, looked like he belonged in this setting. Reclining with his arm lazily behind his head, green eyes half-lidded as he looked up at the stars, he didn’t seem even remotely distracted. Which was rare. You couldn’t help but grin at how relaxed he was, how right he looked there next to you, his expression unusually soft.

“Didn’t think stargazing was your thing,” you said, letting your hand find his.

A low chuckle rumbled from him, almost like he was barely holding it back. “You’re right. It’s not. Only reason I’m here is ‘cause you are.”

His words should’ve sounded casual, but there was something in his tone that made you want to melt. With Leona, compliments were rare but always real, always hitting a little deeper than you expected.

You turned your face to the stars for a moment, letting his words settle like an extra layer of warmth. The sky was thick with them tonight, a kind of quiet show for the two of you. “Aren’t you at least a little bit curious, though? You know, about what’s out there?”

“Not really. Stars are just lights, herbivore. I don’t see the big deal,” he replied, then, after a pause, added with a smirk, “But… I’m more interested in what’s right here.”

Of course. Right on cue. You couldn’t help but laugh. “Is that so?” you teased, poking him in the ribs with an elbow.

“Watch it,” he muttered, his fingers lacing with yours and holding you in place. His grip was firm but warm, and there was something so steady, so grounding about the way he held your hand, his fingers curling protectively around yours.

You leaned into his side, feeling the slow rise and fall of his chest, the steadiness of his presence right next to you. For a guy who claimed he didn’t care much about stargazing, he was certainly taking his time.

The night deepened, and you felt yourself slipping into a comfortable haze. The silence was sweet, each passing minute less about the stars and more about just being near each other. And then, you caught him looking at you, his usual smirk replaced by a softer gaze. His expression was one you rarely saw, one that felt completely genuine, like he didn’t even realize you’d caught him.

“What are you staring at?” you whispered, a little more breathlessly than you intended.

His smirk returned, but his tone was quieter, less playful, as he murmured, “Nothing that isn’t mine already.”

It was impossible not to smile, to feel the warmth blooming across your face. But before you could come up with a reply, he’d tugged you down into his arms, wrapping himself around you in a way that left absolutely no space between the two of you. The stars felt almost irrelevant now, each one fading in comparison to the feeling of him beside you.

And as the night stretched on, you stayed there, wrapped in each other’s warmth, surrounded by stars and held by a silence that felt like home.

Azul Ashengrotto: Moonlit Dance

The beach is bathed in moonlight, and you’re wrapped in a soft, intimate silence with Azul, the night stretching around you like it’s been painted just for this moment. The waves lap gently against the shore, the cool sea breeze tugging at your clothes, and in the quiet, Azul extends his hand, his gaze soft and almost shy.

“Would you… dance with me?” he asks, his voice as soft as the night.

You slide your hand into his, feeling his fingers tighten slightly as he leads you into a slow, graceful rhythm under the stars. There’s a tenderness in his every movement, a carefulness, as if he’s afraid you might vanish if he doesn’t hold you close enough. He glances down, just barely meeting your eyes, and the slightest blush colors his cheeks, bringing a sweet warmth to his normally composed features.

As the two of you sway, he lets out a quiet laugh, his gaze turning to the horizon. "I must admit, dancing here... under the stars... feels like something out of a dream."

"Then let’s make it one we won’t wake up from," you whisper, leaning in just a bit closer.

For a while, you dance in silence, and then—seemingly gathering his courage—Azul spins you and, with a soft breath, dips you low, his eyes wide as he holds you steady. His face is so close to yours, every detail softened by the moonlight, and he swallows, clearly flustered yet smiling. You can’t help but laugh, and he joins you, his voice a low, warm hum that fills the air between you.

Before you know it, you’re pulling him into a dip of his own, and he lets out a surprised, quiet laugh, gripping your arms as you bring him back up. You’re both laughing softly now, and he reaches out, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his fingers lingering against your cheek as his smile softens.

Without another word, he leans in, closing the distance between you with a kiss, gentle and warm, his lips brushing against yours in a tender, quiet promise. It’s a kiss that says everything he sometimes struggles to put into words, a sweetness that speaks of his care, his love, his wonder at being here with you.

When you part, his gaze remains locked on yours, his thumb brushing softly over your hand. "I never thought… I would ever share a moment like this with someone,” he murmurs, his voice so sincere it makes your heart ache a little.

You smile, bringing your forehead to his, feeling the warmth of his breath, the softness of his hands holding you close. "Well, it looks like you’re stuck with me for a few more dances."

His lips curve in a gentle, almost shy smile, but his eyes are shining as he wraps his arms around you, holding you close as you sway under the stars, feeling like you’re the only two people in the world.

Kalim Al-Asim: Nighttime Drive-In

Kalim’s eyes are practically sparkling as he takes in the sight of the massive outdoor screen and rows of cars, all parked under the blanket of night. “This is amazing!” he exclaims, his voice brimming with excitement as he hops out of the car. “A whole movie in a car? And we don’t even have to wear tuxedos or sit in a velvet chair?”

You laugh, grabbing his hand as he leans back into the car with a bright smile. “Not exactly the red carpet, huh?”

He shakes his head, grinning ear to ear. “Way better. It’s like our own secret world here!” He gestures to the backseat, which, thanks to him, is overflowing with an assortment of treats—popcorn, candy, nachos, sodas, even a small box of cupcakes. "I didn't know what snacks people usually get, so I just brought everything!"

“Of course you did,” you chuckle, squeezing his hand. “You know, they usually sell snacks here.”

“Oh!” His face lights up. “Then we should buy some more! I can hand them out to people—it’ll be fun!” And with that, he’s already leaning out the window, cheerfully offering snacks to anyone in earshot. A few nearby people laugh, some take him up on the offer, and soon, Kalim’s practically holding court from the car, as if the drive-in is the most thrilling event of the year.

Eventually, though, the movie starts, and Kalim settles in beside you, practically bouncing in his seat as he tries to watch the screen and point out funny moments. Every few minutes, he turns to you with wide eyes, laughing softly. “Did you see that?” he whispers, as if you weren’t sitting right there. “This is great, we need to come to these all the time!”

“You know you’re supposed to actually watch the movie, right?” you tease, bumping his shoulder.

Kalim chuckles, nudging you back. “But I don’t want to miss a second of seeing this with you. Besides,” he says with a mischievous smile, “I think this part’s way more exciting.” He takes your hand, drawing you a little closer as he intertwines your fingers. The movie fades into the background as he leans over, his laughter softening into a gentle smile that makes your heart feel like it’s about to burst.

As the night settles, the energy around you shifts, and the once-lively atmosphere turns tender and quiet. Kalim drapes a blanket over your shoulders, pulling you close so your head rests against his shoulder, his arm wrapping around you protectively.

“This is kind of perfect,” he murmurs, his voice low and sincere. He presses a soft kiss to your forehead, a subtle blush lighting up his cheeks as he gazes down at you with warm, adoring eyes. “Thanks for bringing me here. I don’t think I’ve ever had so much fun just… being.”

You smile, lifting your head to catch his lips in a soft kiss, one that lingers longer than either of you expected. When you pull back, he’s grinning, a little dazed but more than happy. “Can we do this every night?” he whispers, fingers tracing little patterns on your arm.

“Maybe not every night,” you laugh, resting your hand against his cheek, “but definitely any time you want.”

He beams, pressing his forehead against yours. “Deal. Now, let’s make sure we finish every last snack we brought,” he says, grinning as he pops a piece of popcorn in your mouth before stealing a kiss—sweeter than any of the candy piled up around you.

Jamil Viper: Midnight Swim

The night air is cool, and the water looks almost magical under the moonlight, its surface shimmering with soft ripples. You’re already up to your waist, playfully splashing around, but Jamil is still standing at the edge, arms crossed as he raises an eyebrow at you.

“Are you sure about this?” he asks, the corners of his mouth quirking up in that half-smile you know too well. “You know, it’s not really my thing to… jump into random bodies of water at night.”

“Come on,” you laugh, waving him over. “It’s just us, the moon, and the water. Think of it as a mini adventure—no schedules, no duties.”

He sighs, rolling his eyes a little, but you can see the fondness in them. “Fine, but only because you’re stubborn.” He wades in slowly, the water barely making a ripple as he slips in beside you, his usually precise movements softened in the calm, quiet setting.

You drift closer, feeling the water carry you both into an easy rhythm. The night is silent, save for the gentle lapping of the water, and for once, Jamil looks entirely relaxed. No carefully crafted expression, no alert gaze scanning for potential chaos—just Jamil, as he is, quietly peaceful in the moonlight.

After a moment, he lets out a soft sigh, almost as if he’s finally allowing himself to enjoy it. “You know, I have to admit… I can see the appeal,” he murmurs, glancing over at you with a rare, unguarded smile. “Feels like everything just… stops.”

The two of you float side by side, comfortable in the quiet, and bit by bit, he starts talking. About little moments from his day, funny memories he normally wouldn’t share, dreams he usually keeps close to his chest. It’s as if the night, the water, and your presence have created a place where he feels safe enough to let go.

When you reach out to brush a wet strand of hair from his face, he doesn’t flinch or pull away. Instead, he leans into your touch, his gaze softening as he catches your hand, holding it against his cheek.

“Thank you,” he says softly, a hint of emotion in his voice. “For convincing me to try something new.” His fingers trace a light pattern along your wrist, and there’s something almost reverent in his expression as he leans in, his lips brushing against yours with a warmth that makes you feel like you’re floating.

As you part, he chuckles, sounding almost shy. “I’ll admit… it was worth getting a little out of my comfort zone.”

You grin, leaning into his side as the two of you drift together, his arm wrapping around you to hold you close. In the moonlit water, his usual guardedness has slipped away, leaving just the two of you sharing a rare, quiet peace. As he presses another gentle kiss to your temple, you feel your heart swell, more than a little in love with the rare, beautiful serenity of the moment—and the way he’s finally, finally letting you see his softer side.

Vil Schoenheit: Bonfire Night

The scene is perfect from the start. Vil has every detail arranged with flawless precision: the bonfire flickers elegantly, framed by a semi-circle of blankets, and an artful spread of chocolate, graham crackers, and marshmallows gleams in the firelight. He turns to you with a graceful smile, gesturing for you to sit, and you can’t help but think that if anyone can make s’mores look like a scene out of a classic romance, it’s Vil.

The night air is warm, and as Vil carefully toasts a marshmallow, he holds it over the fire with a practiced elegance. The marshmallow never catches flame, never bubbles too much—it’s a perfect golden brown. Watching him concentrate on such a simple act, his face softened by the glow, feels almost like an intimate privilege, as if he’s revealing something vulnerable just by indulging in this little tradition.

But the fun really begins when he offers you his masterpiece. “Now, this is how a marshmallow should look,” he murmurs, extending it with all the poise of someone handing over a rare delicacy. You take a bite, nodding seriously, though the gooey marshmallow nearly sticks to your lips. Vil looks on with amusement, laughing softly at the sight. “I suppose there’s charm in the chaos of s’mores after all,” he muses.

After a few rounds of attempting his perfection, he starts loosening up, even experimenting by making one for himself that’s just a little… charred. “Careful,” you tease him, nudging his shoulder, “you’re about to get soot on that spotless track record of yours.”

He laughs, a rare, unguarded laugh that sparkles in the quiet night. “Tonight, I think I’ll allow it,” he says, before diving into his treat, unbothered by the crumbs or the faint stickiness left on his fingers. The firelight dances across his face, catching every angle with a golden glow, and you’re struck by the warmth in his smile, a stark contrast to his usual poise.

At some point, as you’re leaning back against the blanket, he pulls you closer, arms wrapped loosely around you, and you feel his cheek brush against your hair. “It’s strange,” he murmurs, his voice softer now, “to think that I’d find this much contentment out here—no scripts, no cameras, just you and a fire.” There’s a note in his voice that makes your heart squeeze, a raw sincerity that cuts through the night.

With Vil’s hand resting on yours, and the stars stretching endlessly above, you’re content to sit in the comfortable quiet. You trade stories back and forth, and for once, Vil lets himself be a little dramatic—tales of travels and encounters, where he plays up the details just to make you laugh.

By the time you’re on your last s’more, Vil’s once-pristine fingertips are as sticky as yours, and he’s practically laughing at himself for it. “A worthy sacrifice,” he says, smiling at the mess, then glances up at you, eyes alight with something warm, tender, and unguarded.

Before you know it, he’s leaned in, lips meeting yours in a sweet, unhurried kiss. The fire crackles softly, framing you both in a bubble of warmth, and for a moment, it feels like you’re the only two people in the world.

Idia Shroud: Late night ice cream date

The sky is velvet dark, pinpricked with stars, as you and Idia share a late-night ice cream outing. After the shops have closed, you end up at a deserted park, with only the soft hum of streetlights and the occasional flicker of a firefly. It's quiet and perfect for sneaking glances at each other without anyone else around to notice.

Idia looks adorably awkward, like he’s calculating every step to make sure it goes exactly right, but the way he holds your hand gives him away. His fingers fit between yours, warm and a little shaky, and each time you look over, he’s already looking at you, cheeks flushed. "I—I didn't think anyone else would actually enjoy this level of, uh... casual," he murmurs, glancing at the night around you like it’s a new phenomenon.

You laugh, squeezing his hand. "Idia, it’s perfect. And the ice cream is a solid bonus."

He relaxes a bit, venturing a small smile, even though he’s keeping his eyes carefully on his mint-chocolate chip. "I kinda thought I'd be the only one cool with midnight ice cream runs in a creepy empty park." His awkward chuckle is laced with hope, like he’s waiting for a hint that this really is something special for you.

"It’s exactly my vibe," you say earnestly, leaning just a little closer. "Besides, getting ice cream with you feels... well, like magic."

He doesn’t miss a beat, eyes lighting up at that. "Magic, huh? Guess I’ll take that as an S-rank compliment." He steals a quick glance your way, and for a second, his face softens, like he’s letting himself believe this perfect moment is real. He’s a mix of nerves and quiet confidence, daring himself to be this close to someone who, for some reason he’s still baffled by, loves him.

Finally, as you both settle down on a bench under a streetlamp that flickers like it’s unsure of itself, he clears his throat, still holding your hand. "I never thought...well, I didn’t think I’d get to do this kinda stuff," he says, the words a bit shy. "It’s like... in my head, this was always just some 'maybe someday' scenario."

With a gentle smile, you tilt his chin up just slightly, so his eyes meet yours. "Idia," you whisper, "you’re more than ‘maybe someday’ to me. You’re here now."

There’s a spark of bravery in his eyes as he closes the last inch between you, leaning in for a soft, tentative kiss. The taste of mint chocolate lingers, and his hand in yours trembles, but he doesn’t pull away. When you both break apart, he’s blushing, but his smile’s one of quiet wonder.

"Okay, okay," he mutters, laughing nervously, "I think I could get used to this..."

Malleus Draconia: Firefly Hunting

The air is thick with summer warmth, and a soft, whispering breeze trails through the trees as you and Malleus stroll into the clearing. Fireflies dot the shadows, little beacons of light sparking up and winking out, and Malleus’s eyes light up with unmistakable delight. He stands there for a moment, captivated, before glancing down at you with an almost childlike wonder in his gaze.

“These tiny lights,” he murmurs, his voice filled with awe. “They remind me of stars that dared to fall closer to earth.”

You laugh softly. "I’m not sure they’d like being compared to stars, but I see it."

Malleus grins, a hint of mischief in his eyes, and with a subtle flick of his fingers, a soft, verdant glow ripples from his hand. Suddenly, the fireflies seem to double, then triple, in number, painting the entire clearing in an ethereal light. A thousand tiny stars dance around you, and you can’t help but let out a gasp, the world feeling like a fairytale brought to life.

“Now they’re stars,” he whispers, pulling you close as you gaze up in awe at the enchanting scene he’s created. “Just for you, and just for tonight.”

Your fingers intertwine as he wraps an arm around your waist, holding you close in the flickering, gentle light. You both watch the fireflies in companionable silence, each moment feeling as if it’s stretching out forever. Occasionally, he brushes his fingers over your arm, his touch as soft as the summer night itself.

“Malleus,” you say softly, feeling a grin start to play on your lips, “you’ve got to tell me, have you done this whole ‘summon the stars’ thing for other people?”

He lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “I assure you, I have not.” He dips his head, his eyes meeting yours with that unwavering intensity that always makes you feel like he sees right through to your soul. “No one else has ever made me feel as you do. With you, magic feels… natural.”

Your heart skips a beat, and before you know it, he’s pulled you even closer, leaning in until his forehead is resting gently against yours. There’s an honesty in his gaze that feels as warm as the summer night, as everlasting as the stars. Without a word, you close the space between you, meeting his lips in a kiss as soft as a breath.

The world around you fades—the fireflies, the trees, even the quiet hum of nature itself. All that remains is the warmth of his embrace and the gentle press of his lips against yours, tender and heartfelt, and the promise of endless moments like this.

When you pull back, you see him looking down at you with a soft, almost incredulous smile. “Thank you,” he murmurs, voice thick with emotion. “For this night. For…” He trails off, as though searching for words big enough, magical enough, to describe the happiness you’ve given him.

“Anytime,” you reply, voice barely above a whisper as you smile back. “But I’m holding you to that firefly magic for next time too.”

With a low laugh, he gives a small nod. “Then I shall make it a thousand more.”

Masterlist

[nosyrobin]

Need more pretty boy wonderboy!reader 🙏

“Pretty boy.”

Pair: Supersons x Wonderboy!reader

Summary: It’s hard being the pretty one of the trio. The five times Wonderboy!reader has been called pretty.

Genre: fluff

The first time, was the supersons were just ten. The Amazon male had accidentally made Damian angry, so angry that he didn’t know any insult of that moment.

Jon watched Y/N run fast from the angry tanned boy. He was screaming in Arabic and then Chinese. It was scary as Jon just hide behind a couch as Y/N then forced himself to fly for safety.

Damian threw anything he could at the damned Amazon boy. Practically trying to corner him. “GET DOWN PRETTY BOY!” Damian yells, now in English as he throws a mug at the boy.

That’s when it went silent and time felt slow before the Amazon male spoke up.

“I’m pretty?” Y/N smirks with crossed arms, now the tip of Damian’s ears were red. Jon had to hold the boy back, cause somehow this shorty jumped up and caught the warrior.

The second time, was at a beach. But the beach experience was a little sandy and terrible.

Sand was too hot, Jon had to carry the Amazon male and Wayne. Then Damian stayed under an umbrella as the two strong boys were playing in the water or playing volleyball.

After all that playing, the Amazon male had bought a sandwich, but the sandwich was stolen by a damn seagull which angered Y/N. He was hungry, and no one fucks with his lunch.

The Amazon boy was flying and rushing after that damn seagull. But the seagull then pooped on the Amazon male, made the boy more enraged as he grips the throat of the seagull and made it spit it out. “Ugh…what a waste of time.” The poop was cleaned off but Jon could only smile at the Amazon male.

“You’re so pretty…” Jon says, a love sick expression on his face as the Amazon male had an annoyed expression by the heat beaming on him.

“Jon…now’s not the time.”

The third time, it was random. Y/N was lifting up a car to throw at a robot. With one swift move of lifting the car up, holding it over his head and hurling at the robot. Completely destroying it, the Amazon failed to see some admirers watching him.

Y/N quickly flew around with Jon close to him, Jon user his heat vision to melt anything that dare to get close to the duo.

As the area was cleared, Wonderboy stood there looking around, he felt a tap on his shoulder and turned around to see someone his age.

“Hey! Pretty boy, thanks for saving me.” The teen says to the amazon male. “Oh! Um no problem man…” the Amazon teen says awkwardly. The teen his age only smiled. “So like are you—”

“He’s taken.” Robin says quickly, wonderboy nervously chuckled and flew off with superboy close behind as Robin took a piggy back ride on the Amazon’s back.

The fourth time, was when a model agency asked him with agency he was in.

Y/N and the boys were at the mall, relaxing and not paying attention to anything as it was their free day from work and school.

Y/N walked off, wanting to use the bathroom as Jon and Damian were arguing which color would be great for bracelets.

As the Amazon male finished his business and was walking back to the food court, he got stopped by a lady with a clearly blonde wig. “Darling! Do you model? Which agency if you do. I couldn’t help but see your beauty, your pretty structure is what my agency needs.” The lady says with a smile.

“I don’t model…” y/n says softly. The woman cups the teen’s hands. “Oh darling but you would look amazing modeling for me!” She then pulls a card out from her coat. “If you ever want to model for me, find me.” She says, she then walks off.

The older teen looked confused but shrugged as he walked back to his best friends.

The fifth time, was special. The Amazon boy was in the snowy weather. A red scarf wrapped around his neck, the cold hair had tinted some part of the teenager. He blows out cold air with a soft smile. Turning his head, he caught sight of Jon and Damian standing there, looking at him.

“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongues?” The boy says with a soft smile. Jon immediately speeds over to the Amazon male with a red face, as Damian walked over with a small smile. “Hello Prince.”

“Hey guys..” Jon let go of the Amazon male, cupping the boy’s face. “I’m glad you’re here with us! We got so many presents for you.” Jon says, he then kisses the forehead of the Amazon male. Jon moved back so Damian could get a hug in. “I missed you too..Y/N.” Y/N softly chuckles and kissed Damian’s head. “Yeah yeah, I missed ya guys as well.”

“Yeah we missed our pretty boyfriend.”

[junghelioseok]

miss taken.

↳ you pride yourself on being a professional, but sometimes your students' parents really test your patience.

◇ jungkook x reader ◇ fluff | smut | teacher!au | single parent!au | e2l ◇ 20.3k [1/1]

❛❛ our kids are bitter rivals and the only time we ever meet is when we’re both called to the principal’s office and whatever maybe i think you’re kind of cute but your kid’s a monster and ALSO someone keeps buying the last everything bagel at my favorite coffee shop 2 minutes before i get there in the morning and has heard about my plight and has started leaving me bragging notes about it ❜❜

notes: fic number two in the serendipity series is here at last!!! this took me like a million and a half years to finish because Real Life happened but here we finally are! also, i changed the type of bagel that the story is centered around, because i honestly didn’t come to like everything bagels until relatively recently and i will still only eat it if it’s part of a bagel sandwich because? just having cream cheese or whatever on an everything bagel feels kind of unhinged to me! but that’s neither here nor there and no one is here for my bagel opinions so! hope you enjoy the story!!! 💕

⇢ series masterlist. | inspired by this post.

warnings: dilf!jk, some kissing and hand stuff, ✨sexual tension✨ but nothing too terribly explicit tbh

Silence has never sounded louder. 

You drum your fingers against the armrest of your chair, nails clacking against the cheap plastic. On the wall, the second hand of the clock completes yet another revolution, and you glance over when your companion sighs, plucks off her reading glasses, and sets them down on the desk beside the placard that houses her title: Principal Pamela Baker, Hybe Academy. 

A woman nearing her fifties, Pam has sandy blonde hair cut into a neat bob and an enviable ability to pull off any lipstick color, no matter how bold. You’re lucky enough to call her both a friend and a mentor, and when she mutters a curse under her breath, you chuckle. “Late again,” she huffs, offering you a wry smile before leaning back in her seat and casting her gaze skyward. “Typical.”

“You know what these corporate types are like, Pam,” you reply, rolling your eyes. “They have zero regard for anyone else’s time. He was twenty minutes late to our parent-teacher conference last semester, so don’t take it personally.”

“Believe me, I know plenty of men like Jungkook Jeon,” Pam says with another sigh, this one heavier and longer than the last. “I even married one, you know. But that was before I came to my senses and divorced his ass. Best decision of my life, right after getting my tubes tied.”

“Three kids was enough for you?” you tease, and Pam snorts out a laugh. 

“More than enough,” she replies. “What about you, though? Thinking of having another kid anytime soon?”

“I don’t think so… well, not anytime soon, at least. Ask me again in—” 

The sound of a doorknob turning stops you in your tracks, and a moment later, the door to the office swings open with a dull click. 

“Principal Baker. Miss {L/N}.” Jungkook Jeon is standing at the threshold in a wool coat the color of charcoal, the buttons of which are undone to reveal the undoubtedly designer suit underneath. His dark hair is parted neatly across his forehead, still sprinkled with lingering snowflakes from his journey here, and you bite back the urge to remark on his tardiness. Instead, you stand when your boss stands up, mustering up every ounce of professionalism you possibly can.

“Mr. Jeon,” Pam says, giving his hand a firm shake before gesturing to the empty chair beside you. “It’s nice to see you again. Please, take a seat.”

You incline your head in Jungkook’s direction as he lowers himself into the plastic chair, the legs scraping against the tiled floor in protest as he adjusts his position. “Hello, Mr. Jeon. Thank you for finally joining us.”

If Jungkook notices the snarky inflection of your tone, he doesn’t let it show. He merely levels you with a cool gaze, blinking lazily before turning to your boss. “Excuse my tardiness,” he says, smoothing down the lapels of his black jacket and straightening his slate blue tie. “I got here as fast as I could. Where is my daughter?”

Pam gestures toward the door. “Daeun is down the hall in the library, under Mr. Kim’s supervision. I thought it best if we spoke without the children first.”

The dark-haired man hums. “What happened, Principal? You were rather vague on the phone.”

Pam nods, and you exchange looks before she turns her attention back to Jungkook. “Yes, well, as I explained on the phone, there was an incident. Daeun forcefully took her classmate’s book during the free reading period, and refused to return it when asked.”

At that, Jungkook casts you another glance. “I see. And I presume the classmate was Miss {L/N}’s daughter?”

“It was,” you confirm, taking care to keep your tone even despite the irritation simmering in your belly. “This is the second time Trixie’s been targeted by your daughter, Mr. Jeon. Do you think that’s a coincidence?”

Jungkook’s eyes narrow, his lips twisting into a displeased frown. “I'm not sure I like what you’re implying, Miss {L/N}.”

The iciness in his voice is unmistakable, but you have fifteen minutes’ worth of annoyance festering in your belly—annoyance that has amplified with every second that he made you wait. That, combined with his behavior last semester is enough to stir that annoyance into full-blown anger. He’s been short with you every time you’ve called to talk about his daughter’s progress in class, and you very nearly canceled his eight o’clock appointment to meet with you during December’s parent-teacher conferences. You remember pulling up his contact information nineteen minutes after eight, thumb hovering over the call button on your phone when he finally burst into your classroom. No preamble, and no apology. He just sat down, as if nothing was amiss, and began asking about Daeun’s grades in math.

It’s no wonder you’ve never heard so much as a word about a Mrs. Jeon. The nosy part of your brain wonders about Jungkook’s home life on occasion, and the more vindictive part relishes in the fact that he’s no doubt a single parent. Any woman would have to be a saint to put up with Jungkook Jeon, you reason, because as far as you’re concerned, he’s the devil. 

The devil dressed in head-to-toe Armani, who is currently fixing you with a look that could temper steel. 

“Mr. Jeon.” Pam, as always, is quick to diffuse the sudden tension that’s settled over her office. “No one is implying anything here. We just want to have a frank, civil discussion about Daeun’s behavior, and see if you can think of anything that may be causing her to act out. A recent change in her life, perhaps? Something new that she hasn’t quite adjusted to yet?”

You take a deep breath, releasing it through your nose before putting your professional mask back on. “Her shift in behavior was extremely sudden,” you chime in, watching out of the corner of your eye as Pam inclines her head in agreement. “Laughing when Trixie and another classmate slipped and fell on the ice, and now this? I don’t believe for a minute that this change came out of nowhere—something must have caused it. Daeun is a smart girl, Mr. Jeon. She’s outgoing and a little rambunctious, but she’s always been kind to her classmates in the past. Today’s behavior was incredibly out of character for her.”

A beat of silence passes, as your words fade into silence. Then Jungkook shifts in his seat, crossing one leg over the other as he turns his full attention to you. “We keep talking about Daeun as if she was the only child involved in this incident, Miss {L/N}. Why don’t we talk about your daughter instead? Trixie, is it?”

And just like that, your mask begins to splinter at the edges. “Trixie was reading quietly at the table when Daeun approached her,” you reply coolly. “She didn’t instigate anything, Mr. Jeon.”

“Oh, and I’m supposed to take your word for it?” Jungkook huffs out a humorless chuckle, leaning back in his seat. “I think you, of all people, might be a little bit biased.”

Fury flares in your belly, hot and bright. “I am a professional, Mr. Jeon,” you manage between clenched teeth. “I care about all of my students equally, and treat them as such. But I don’t expect you to understand that.”

Jungkook opens his mouth to retort, but your boss stops him before he can utter a single syllable. “I think that’s enough for today,” Pam says, rising to her feet and stepping around her desk to shake Jungkook’s hand. Even in heels, she only comes up to his chest, and you would have laughed at the height disparity if it weren’t for the rage still bubbling through your veins. “Like I said before, the girls are just down the hall with Mr. Kim. If you’ll follow me…”

Pam ushers Jungkook out of the office, chattering mindlessly about the cafeteria renovations that are underway—funded in large part by Jungkook himself, you’re certain. As much as you’ve grown to dislike the man, you know that he cares deeply about education and donates a rather large sum to your school every year. Trailing after them by a few paces, you listen as Pam points out a row of plaques hanging on the wall, honoring distinguished students and teachers alike.

The library, when you reach it, is empty save for three figures seated at one of several rectangular tables that occupy the middle of the room. Taehyung Kim, the copper-haired librarian, springs out of his seat upon your arrival, and you wave tiredly as he approaches with a warm, affable grin. 

“Welcome!” Taehyung says, adjusting his gold-rimmed glasses before extending a hand for Jungkook to shake. “You must be Daeun’s dad. I’m Taehyung Kim, the librarian here at Hybe.” 

“Jungkook Jeon.” Then Jungkook’s gaze flits past him to where the two children are seated opposite one another. Daeun is a slender, petite girl with dark hair braided neatly down her back and round, brown eyes that are narrowed in concentration as she colors in a picture of a lion. Quietly, Jungkook strides over to his daughter, kneeling down beside her chair until he’s eye-level. “Hey, Daeun,” you hear him murmur. “What happened today, hmm?”

You, meanwhile, join your own daughter at the table, sitting down in the chair Taehyung abandoned and taking in the paper and coloring utensils scattered across the surface “Hey, jitterbug,” you murmur. “Were you nice to Mr. Kim while I was gone?”

“Tae read us a book about butterflies,” Trixie replies, shrugging her little shoulders. “He taught us about migration.”

You chuckle. “Migration, huh? That sounds interesting. You want to tell me all about it on the drive home?”

Trixie nods, her pigtails bobbing in time with the movement. Then she glances over to where Jungkook is instructing Daeun to pack up her backpack, tucking books and notebooks neatly inside while Daeun collects her crayons and puts them into a sparkly little pink case. “Are we going home now?”

“Soon, bug,” you promise. “I just have to finish up with Mr. Jeon and Principal Baker, okay?”

“Okay,” Trixie says agreeably, returning to her drawing. Pam gestures for you to join her and Jungkook near the library doors, and you meet Taehyung’s gaze as you brush past where he’s pulling a few books down for a display. Good luck, he mouths, and you suppress the urge to make a face. Instead, you mouth a quick thanks back, offering Daeun a quick smile as well before joining her father and your boss at the door. 

“Mr. Jeon,” Pam says, casting a surreptitious glance toward Daeun and Trixie before lowering her voice. “I don’t think you should ignore this behavior from your daughter. If there’s something in her home life that is making her act out, I can recommend a few counselors who would be more than happy to speak with the two of y—”

Jungkook shakes his head, a lock of dark hair coming loose from whatever gel he’s used to style it. “With all due respect, Principal Baker, I don’t appreciate my parenting abilities being called into question. I think it’s probably best if Daeun and I take our leave.”

Pam sighs. “Mr. Jeon, I don’t mean to offend. But Daeun did take a book out of Trixie’s hands.”

“And I’ll be sure to discipline her for that,” Jungkook replies. “But if this is all over a book, Principal, I think the solution is simple. I can easily buy her whatever book she needs.”

“I’m not so sure it’s about the book itself,” you point out. “Tae—I mean, Mr. Kim—has multiple copies of Charlotte’s Web available for the students.”

Jungkook hums and turns up the collar of his wool coat, pulling it snug around his throat. “Nonetheless, I think we’re done here. Daeun, we’re leaving.”

The six-year-old looks up from the book Taehyung has checked out for her and immediately runs over to grab her father’s extended hand. “Are we going home?” she asks quietly, and he nods. 

“Yeah, we are, sweetheart. Come on. Say bye to your teachers.”

Obediently, Daeun waves to you and Taehyung before bidding Pam goodbye as well. Jungkook offers you a stiff nod, and Pam resignedly offers to walk the duo out. They depart together, and you watch as they disappear around the corner of the hall before turning to Taehyung with a heavy sigh. Trixie is still engrossed in her coloring, and you lower your voice as you join Taehyung where he’s begun re-shelving books from a cart of returns. 

“Thank god that’s finally over,” you murmur.

Taehyung glances both ways, ensuring the coast is clear. “Yeah. That Jungkook guy is a total wang.”

///

By the time you pull out of Hybe Academy’s parking lot, rush hour has well and truly begun. Silently, you curse Jungkook’s tardiness as you merge onto the main road and almost immediately come to a complete standstill amongst the traffic. Glancing back in the rearview mirror, you take in the sight of your daughter, buckled neatly into the backseat with her face pressed against the window.

“What color are we looking for today, bug?”

“Red,” she replies, her nose scrunching against the glass. Every day, your daughter picks a color and counts the number of cars she sees in that particular shade. She’s taken to keeping a running tally on the refrigerator—working toward the answer to a research question that only she understands. Her work is accompanied by a variety of figures and diagrams as well, which she’s plastered across the remainder of the refrigerator door and are slowly encroaching on the freezer door as well. You’re pretty sure she’ll need a larger surface soon enough—the wall of the hallway leading to the bedrooms would probably suffice—but until then, you have no plans to interfere with her creativity. If anything, you sometimes wish you could see the world through a child’s eyes again—to view every new experience as an adventure, and delight in the simple things. It’s one of the many reasons you love working at Hybe, even if you do have to deal with the occasional entitled parent.

Unwillingly, your mind wanders back to Jungkook Jeon. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t find him attractive, even if you’re reluctant to admit it and refuse outright to say it aloud. He’s blessed with the kind of face that angels could rhapsodize about—his dark, expressive eyes set above a strong nose and an enticing mouth. His jawline is sharp as a knife, and you’re fairly certain the devil himself sculpted his thighs. Even beneath the drape of his expensive suits, you can see the definition of his musculature as clearly as if he wasn’t wearing anything at all. You wonder—more often than you’d like to admit—how his workplace hasn’t deemed his suits obscene. Maybe he needs a dress code, you think to yourself, easing off the brake as the cars in front of you begin to inch forward. Baggy clothes only from this point forward. The more skin covered, the better. 

“Oooh! Found one!” Trixie exclaims, tapping the glass vigorously. “And look, there’s another. It’s a darker red, though.”

You hum and nod toward the traffic up ahead, where you can glimpse the corner of a cherry red bumper. “What about that one up there? That makes three, right?”

In the mirror, you see your daughter nod. A few minutes pass, the two of you calling out when another red car is spotted, and traffic eventually eases up enough that you can continue your way home. 

“So, what did Mr. Kim teach you about butterflies?” you query as you make a right turn. “Something about migration?” 

Trixie nods absently, still fixated on the cars driving by in the opposite lane. “Yeah. They go south for the winter to stay warm.”

You glance at her reflection in the mirror again. “Must be nice.”

“Yeah.”

Up ahead, the light turns green. You hit the gas, debating whether to bring up Daeun or not, but your daughter speaks again before you can dwell on it any further. 

“It’s weird,” Trixie says, her face still pressed against the window and her breath misting the glass. “Daeun was never mean to me before. We weren’t friends, not really. But now it feels like she’s picking on me on purpose and I don’t know why.” 

Something in your chest splinters at the tone of her voice—subdued and small. She’s dragging a finger through the fogged up glass now, tracing the crooked outline of a butterfly, and you take a moment to collect your thoughts before speaking again.

“We’ll figure it out together, then, jitterbug. Now, why don’t you start thinking about what you want for dinner?”

///

Mornings are always a little chaotic in your home. Trixie is sprinting around the entirety of the two-bedroom apartment looking for her favorite scrunchie, a half-eaten piece of toast clutched in one hand and her backpack swinging from the other. In the kitchen, you’re going through a mental checklist of all the places your daughter could have possibly left the accessory while sipping on your morning coffee. The mug nearly slips from your hand when your pet cat, Taco, slinks past your legs on her way to her food bowl, and you hiss out a sharp curse.

“Fuck!” Hot liquid dribbles down your knuckles. The calico cat gives you an unimpressed look, and you glance both ways to make sure Trixie is out of earshot before wagging a reprimanding finger. “Manners, Taco. You’re better than this.”

Taco merely flicks her tail and turns back to her own breakfast, rebelliously batting her water bowl with a paw before settling down to eat. Sighing, you finish the remainder of your coffee and rinse out the mug, listening as Trixie darts in and begins rummaging through the silverware drawer. 

“Bug, I don’t think your scrunchie’s in there,” you remark, earning yourself a shrug in response.

“Can’t be too careful,” she says in a startlingly accurate impression of you, and you can’t decide whether to laugh out loud or roll your eyes. Coming up empty, your daughter runs off again, and you return your attention to your bag, rifling through the folders and assignments within. “Aha!” you hear in the distance, and smile. Trixie comes bounding down the hall a few seconds later with a sparkly holographic scrunchie in hand, and you obligingly help her wind it around her ponytail as she wriggles in place with excitement.

“Ready to go?” you ask once finished, and she nods eagerly. “Have all your homework?” Another nod. “What about those books you have to return to Mr. Kim at the library?”

Trixie heaves a dramatic sigh and fixes you with a look. “Yes, Mom. Can we go now?”

You chuckle and extend your hand for her to take, heaving your bag onto your opposite shoulder. “All right, all right. Let’s go.”

Locking the front door, you and Trixie take the elevator down to the ground floor of the building and exit out into the wintry air. Your car is parked on a nearby side street, and immediately, you see that the windshield is coated in a light layer of frost. Sighing inwardly, you head toward the trunk where you store the ice scraper. Trixie releases your hand when you pop open the lid, and you turn to watch as she skips her way down the sidewalk. “Sure you don’t want a ride to school?” you call.

She stops, her nose wrinkling. “It’s lame to go to school with your teacher, Mom.”

You feign offense, slapping a hand to your heart. “Oh? I’m lame now, am I?”

“Don’t take it personal,” Trixie replies, shrugging. “All adults are kinda lame.”

With that, she waves and darts the rest of the way down the sidewalk, making her way to the bus stop at the end of the block. You watch her go, waiting until she safely joins the other half-dozen kids clustered on the corner beside the stop sign, before turning back to your car and climbing into the driver’s seat. 

There’s something calming about your morning commute—something about the low hum of the engine and the whir of wheels against asphalt that soothes your soul. The route downtown is a familiar one, and you navigate it with ease. A glance at the clock on the dashboard tells you that you have just enough time to grab some breakfast, and at the next intersection, you opt to turn left instead of right. Three minutes later, you’re pulling up to your favorite coffee shop in the city, snagging one of the few remaining parking spaces on the street and braving the chill one more time as you head for the brightly painted front door beneath the cheery sign that reads, Bean There, Done That!. 

The smell of warm cinnamon and vanilla washes over you as soon as you step inside the coffee shop. There’s a relatively short line, and you pull out your phone as you join it, scrolling through news articles and notifications until you reach the counter. “Good morning, Bonnie,” you greet the middle-aged woman working the cash register, before waving at the man who’s already brewing a fresh espresso in the corner. “Morning, Jin.”

“Hiya, {Name},” Jin replies. As the owner of the shop and a dear friend of yours, he knows your usual order like the back of his hand. “Got your coffee going right now.”

Bonnie smiles at you, nodding as Jin plops your finished drink down and joins her at the counter. “Morning, hun. You’re too late again, I’m afraid. Can I get you something else?”

You glance over at the glass display case where all the baked goods are housed, disappointment sinking into your stomach when you see the empty row in the bagel section. “No cinnamon streusel? Again?”

“Some guy beat you to the last one,” Jin answers as Bonnie rings up your coffee and slides it across the counter into your waiting hands. “Same one as last week, actually. He comes here pretty regularly.”

Your eyes narrow. “You mean the same jerk has taken my bagel three times now? How is it that I haven’t run into him yet?”

“I dunno—dude’s an early riser, I guess. You missed him by about ten minutes this time, but sometimes he’s in here even earlier than that.” Jin shrugs and jabs a thumb toward the back where you can just barely see the kitchen through a small window. “We’ve got more bagels going right now though, if you can wait five minutes.”

The time on your phone’s screen tells you that you cannot. “Sorry,” you tell him. “If I don’t leave now, I’ll be late for school.” Turning, you nod at Bonnie and drop a few bills into the tip jar. “See you both tomorrow.”

“Wait!” Jin pats down his apron pockets and fishes out a crumpled napkin from within. “I almost forgot. The guy—he left a note.”

“He left… what?” You frown. “Why?”

Awkwardly, Jin clears his throat. “I, uh, may have let it slip that he kept beating you to the last cinnamon streusel bagel on Friday. And then he asked if he could leave you a note, so….” Uncrumpling the napkin, he extends it toward you. “Here.”

You can’t help it—curiosity roots in your belly and winds its way to your fingers as you carefully accept the note and smooth it out on the countertop.

Better luck next time ;)

“That prick.”

Jin winces. “Yeah, I know. I mean, he does always leave a twenty in the tip jar, but yeah, totally. I’m with you. Guy’s a wang.”

You’re barely listening. Scowling, you fumble for the pen in your purse, taking the napkin that Bonnie wordlessly hands you and scribbling out your own note so fiercely you nearly rip through the papery material.

Game on, mister.

///

The rest of the week seems to drag by, until Friday arrives at long last and shepherds with it stormy gray clouds on the horizon. You’re already feeling rather grumpy—no doubt thanks in part to the collection of snarky napkin notes you’ve accumulated over the past few days—and the sun’s absence only serves to exacerbate your foul mood. Even worse, you had an unfortunate run-in with one Mr. Jungkook Jeon yesterday, meeting with him in the principal’s office following an incident where Daeun took and hid Trixie’s favorite holographic scrunchie. Thankfully, it was recovered quickly, but even now the mere thought of Jungkook Jeon’s stupid, condescending face is enough to tank your mood. Scowling, you lock your car and head in the direction of Bean There, Done That!, carefully eyeing every person who exits in an effort to discern whether they might have purchased a cinnamon streusel bagel and hoping that none of them have snagged the last.

You’re running a full forty-five minutes early today—all in an attempt to beat the damned bagel thief. Half an hour hadn’t been enough—you found that out the hard way yesterday, when Bonnie had greeted you with an apologetic smile and Jin had wordlessly doubled the usual shot of espresso in your coffee without charge. Looking back, your initial attempts to be a mere fifteen minutes earlier were feeble at worst and laughable at best. But today, you think, today will be different. 

The bell over the door jingles pleasantly when you step inside the coffee shop, and you immediately deflate when Jin catches your eye and shakes his head. He’s there to greet you when you finally reach the front of the line, and you sigh as you accept the folded napkin he hands over. “He beat me? Again? Does this guy not sleep?”

“He was super early today,” Jin replies with a shrug. Groaning, you unfold the note and smooth it out on the counter, sucking in a breath when you read the words scrawled there. 

What’s that saying again? Something about the early bird always getting the worm? ;)

“That fucking asshole,” you grit out. “I’m gonna kill him.”

“Testy,” Jin says, clicking his tongue. “What’s got your panties in a bunch today?”

You sigh. “School stuff, mostly. I had to meet with the father of one of my students yesterday, and he’s a real piece of work. And then I was up late grading homework.”

“You could always assign less,” Jin offers up unhelpfully, which earns him a snort and an eye-roll from you. Relenting, he instead begins pouring your coffee, chattering on as the hot liquid splashes into your cup. “So, about this guy’s impending doom. How exactly do you plan on murdering a man when you don’t even know what he looks like?”

“Stop being logical,” you groan, rubbing the bridge of your nose. “I don’t want to hear it.”

Just then, the coffee shop door flies open, letting in a gust of chilly wind. You turn to see Bonnie bustling inside, wearing a bright pink woolen hat and ushering along her eleven-year old son, Caleb. “Hi, hun,” she greets you, her nose scrunching when she sees your frown. “I take it you still haven’t found your mystery bagel man?”

You heave a sigh, shaking your head. “I don’t think I can get DNA off of his notes, so no. I have no idea who this guy is, which means I have no way of tracking him down and giving him a piece of my mind.”

Bonnie tuts sympathetically and pats your arm. “Sorry, hun.” Giving your elbow an affectionate squeeze, she slips past the counter and into the back room to grab her paycheck. Jin finishes up with your drink, and you thank him as you take a long sip. Then you turn to Bonnie’s son, who’s taken a seat in a nearby booth and is doodling on a piece of scrap paper. 

“Hey, Caleb. How’s it going?”

The boy, normally quite talkative, just shrugs. Taken aback, you decide not to press the issue and instead turn back to Jin, who’s wiping down the espresso machine and whistling something that sounds vaguely like “Never Gonna Give You Up” under his breath. Bonnie returns then, and you give her a quizzical glance as she pours herself a to-go cup of coffee and adds two generous pumps of caramel syrup. Is something up with Caleb? you mouth, and watch as confusion flits across her face before realization dawns.

“Don’t worry about him,” she whispers, approaching you so you can hear. “He’s just a little bummed from yesterday. Misspelled ‘serendipity’ in the school spelling bee, and it cost him the win in the end.”

You wince. “Ouch. That hurts.”

“Yeah, that sucks real hard,” Jin chimes in from his spot at the espresso machine. “Little guy didn’t even try to steal a cookie from the display like he normally does.”

Bonnie chuckles. “I’ll grab a couple to-go, then—a double chocolate and a snickerdoodle, if you please. But then we’ve really got to head out. School starts in twenty.”

At the reminder, you pull out your phone and glance at the time. “Yeah, I need to leave soon too. Give my best to Caleb, okay? There’s always next year’s spelling bee.” Turning to Jin, you hand over your credit card to pay for the coffee before grabbing a pen and a napkin. It takes you a few seconds to figure out what you want to write, and then another few to scrawl out the note:

Don’t forget, the tortoise always beats the hare in the end.

Straightening up, you hand the napkin over to Jin, who accepts it wordlessly and tucks it into his pocket. And once he’s handed your card back to you, you wave goodbye to both Jin and Bonnie before heading out.

It’s typically a five-minute drive to Hybe Academy from the coffee shop, but this morning, it takes you almost ten. Every red light in the city has seemingly teamed up in order to make you late, and you make it through the door of your classroom with mere minutes to spare. Thankfully, the first bell hasn’t rung yet, and to your surprise, Taehyung is still lounging in your desk chair when you enter the room. The two of you have a longstanding tradition of having breakfast together in the mornings—even if breakfast just turns out to be two extra-large cups of coffee with anywhere between zero and four shots of espresso added in. Taehyung occasionally brings in some of his kitchen experiments as well, and you’ve had to politely decline his offer to share on more than one occasion. 

“Hey, there you are!” Taehyung grins and props his feet up onto your desk, crossing one leg over the other. “I was just about to leave.”

“Really? It looks like you’ve made yourself pretty comfortable,” you reply, dropping your bag onto the floor and collapsing into the chair he’s pulled up beside him. “Must be nice, not having to worry about being on time for first period.”

Taehyung nestles deeper into the back of your chair and lets his eyes drift shut. “Sure is.”

You snort and take a sip of your coffee. “Jerk.”

“I’m rubber, you’re glue,” he replies without missing a beat, his eyes remaining staunchly shut.

Shaking your head, you instead direct your attention to the tupperware container that’s sitting on the desk in front of your friend. You can see what looks like some kind of pastry inside, and prod curiously at it before poking Taehyung in the shoulder. “So, what’s this? Don’t tell me you tried to make croque monsieurs again.”

“Excuse you, those weren’t even that bad,” he defends, his eyes flying open. “And no, I didn’t. I made quiche this time.”

“Right,” you say suspiciously. “And what’s in it?”

“Bacon, cheese, onions,” Taehyung lists with a shrug. “Oh, and a few baby carrots I had on hand. I didn’t really know what else to do with them.”

It’s far from the strangest combination your friend has come up with—a sentiment you voice aloud as you pry open the edge of the container and accept the fork he hands over. “This feels shockingly normal.” Cautiously, you dig into an edge and bring it to eye level so you can examine the filling. “Are you sure you’re feeling all right?”

“I’m going to start force feeding you if you don’t stop teasing,” Taehyung threatens, grabbing a fork for himself and helping himself to a generous bite. “Seriously, give it a try—I promise it’s good. I didn’t even drop any eggshells in it this time.”

Laughing, you bring the quiche to your mouth. The pastry is flaky and the filling is smooth, and you’re pleasantly surprised by the harmonious balance of seasonings that you taste. Taehyung watches in satisfaction as you go in for a bigger piece, and pushes the tupperware closer when you nearly drop it. 

“Told you it was good,” he says smugly, and you can only nod your agreement and raise your coffee in silent commendation. 

The two of you eat in silence for a few moments—until you remember the napkin shoved in your pocket and pull it out with a grimace. You’ve ranted to Taehyung about your new nemesis on more than one occasion by this point, and he doesn’t even blink as he flattens out the material and scans the words scrawled there. “I’ve gotta say, the guy’s got good handwriting,” he remarks, and you immediately fix him with a scowl. 

“Really? You’ve got to say that?”

Taehyung holds up his hands innocently. “Just an observation,” he says. “How many of these notes do you even have now? Three?”

“Five,” you grumble. “And I’m still no closer to figuring out who he is. I don’t suppose you have access to a police database or anything, right? Some way to match this guy’s handwriting?”

“I’m pretty sure it doesn’t work like that,” is Taehyung’s blasé reply. “Besides, it’s not like you’re going to do anything, even if you do figure out who he is. You’ll just keep stewing until something else comes along, so why even bother with the manhunt in the first place?”

You sniff. “I’m raising Trixie to be a strong, determined woman who can accomplish anything she sets her mind to. What kind of example would I be setting if I can’t do this one thing?”

Taehyung doesn’t even bother trying to disguise his snort of laughter. “You’re so full of shit. Jesus Christ.”

The bell rings, then—signaling that students have five minutes to make their way to their classrooms. You sigh, and Taehyung wordlessly stands up and begins gathering his tupperware back into his bag, tucking the cutlery in last and grabbing his remaining coffee as he turns toward the door. 

“Catch you later,” he says at the threshold, and you wave him off before brushing a few stray crumbs off your desk. Finishing off the last of your coffee, you pull your planner from your bag and absentmindedly shove the napkin note in its place—putting away any and all thoughts of your bagel nemesis as students slowly begin filtering into your classroom. Trixie briefly catches your eye as she files in with a couple of her friends, and you smile as you rise from your seat and begin outlining the day’s lesson plan on the chalkboard. 

There’s no doubt that Fridays are your favorite. Friday afternoons at Hybe Academy are dedicated to the arts, and listening to the soft strains of music coming from the orchestra room and the various solo instruments taking lessons brings you boundless joy. You love seeing the new paintings on the walls the following Monday too, and often stay a while after school lets out on Friday to hang up the pieces produced by your own class. 

But this particular Friday—it isn’t going as planned at all.

You’re beginning to think that this morning’s strike from your bagel thief was an omen. Up until two hours ago, it’s just been the usual inconveniences and minor drawbacks—a misplaced pencil here, or a spilled bit of juice there. But now, halfway through the schoolday, you feel like you’re drowning. Your stomach is growling and your hair is in disarray, and it’s all thanks to the fact that you currently have twice the amount of students you normally do occupying your classroom—all of whom are seemingly intent on covering every available surface with splatters of paint. 

You can’t blame Miss Kumar, of course. Family emergencies are just that—emergencies. They can’t be predicted or controlled, and when she was called at lunchtime with unexpected news, you understood that she had to leave immediately. In an unfortunate turn of events, none of the Academy’s usual substitute teachers were available, and you soon found yourself haplessly watching on as her first-graders filed into your room with chairs in tow, taking up residence two to a desk alongside your own students. 

And even though you’re doing your absolute best to maintain some semblance of order, you know you’ve lost when one of Miss Kumar’s students—Nicholas, you think his name is—upends a little plastic canister of paint onto his desk and splats both hands into it. Blue paint goes flying in every direction, and as he giggles, the other children quickly begin to follow his lead. 

“Guys, no, wait—” you try to say, but it’s too late. A fully fledged paint fight has broken out, and you watch in horror as Daeun flings a dollop of yellow paint straight onto Trixie’s Hercules shirt. 

If there’s a bright spot in all of this, it’s that Principal Pam Baker works fast. You’d called her mere minutes into the fight breaking out, and she’d done her part by calling the parents of the students you’d named as instigators of the fight. Those who could came in right away, and once you managed to settle everyone down, you brought their kids down to Pam’s office so that she could have a group meeting with both the parents and students alike. The remaining children you took to the library to be watched by Taehyung while you cleaned up your classroom. It’s an absolute disaster zone, and you’ve only just begun spraying down the first desk when the door flies open.

“Most of the children are at the library,” you say without turning around, scrubbing at a particularly stubborn bit of red paint on the corner of the desk with a wet wipe. “If you’re looking for your child, you’d best head over there.”

“Actually, I’m here to speak to you,” a familiar voice says, and dread pools in your stomach as you turn and find yourself face-to-face with none other than Jungkook Jeon, his dark eyes unreadable. On his wrist, just barely concealed beneath the sleeve of his charcoal overcoat, you can see his expensive silver watch glinting in the fluorescent light.

“Mr. Jeon,” you manage once you’ve found your voice again. “How can I help you?”

For a few long seconds, Jungkook remains silent. He steps over the threshold and into your classroom, taking in the paint-splattered walls and the chairs scattered haphazardly about. Then his gaze settles on you, his nose wrinkling slightly as he speaks again. 

“It smells in here.”

“It’s the paint,” you answer shortly, stepping over an upended cup of brushes and making your way to the window. Fumbling with the lock, you struggle for a few seconds before finally managing to heave it open, letting in a welcome gust of cool wintry air. 

Jungkook watches all of this in silence. Then he hums, faint amusement lacing his voice. “I see that.”

Irritation blooms in your belly at his blasé tone. “What did you want to talk about, Mr. Jeon? If you’re looking for Daeun, I’m afraid she’s down the hall in Principal Baker’s office.”

“I’m well aware of that.” Jungkook takes a step forward, the heels of his sleek black oxfords clicking against the tiled floor. “This is the second time you’ve lost control of your classroom, I believe. And tell me, Miss {L/N}, why has my daughter been sent to the principal’s office two days in a row, now?”

You glance up from where you’ve begun wiping at a spot of hot pink paint on the windowsill. “With all due respect, Mr. Jeon, I think that’s a question that only Daeun can answer.”

“Daeun.” There’s outright laughter in Jungkook’s voice now—but it’s the humorless sort that makes the hairs on your neck stand on end. “Right, of course. The blame is always on my daughter, isn’t it? Never any of the others. Never your own.”

For a moment, you can only stare at him. Then, without even fully realizing what you’re doing, you begin walking forward. First one step, and then another—until the tips of your sensible block heels are mere inches from the tips of his oxfords. Emotion is building steadily in your chest—a cocktail of exhaustion and anger topped off with the day’s frustrations—and all of it comes flooding out as you raise your chin and look Jungkook Jeon square in the eye. 

“Unlike you, I saw what happened today, Mr. Jeon. Several students were responsible for instigating and perpetuating this fight, and unfortunately, Daeun was one of them. I don’t appreciate you implying that I favor any of my students over others, and I certainly don’t appreciate you questioning my ability as a teacher.” Your chest heaves as you pause to take a breath. “I am a professional, Mr. Jeon. Maybe you don’t think so, but I am. I’ve been teaching for nearly a decade, and I’ve spent almost every day with these children for the past year. You don’t get to come in here and disrespect me in my own classroom. I don’t care how much money you give to this school. I’m not beholden to you or your money, and I’ll thank you to not come in here with unnecessary attitude and finger-pointing.”

Your blood is rushing in your ears by the time your speech comes to an end. Jungkook is silent, staring down his nose at you for three long seconds before he deliberately raises a dark eyebrow. “Are you finished?” he asks. 

You shiver as his hot breath fans against your cheeks. “No.” And then, in a surge of stupid, adrenaline-fueled bravery, you add, “I kind of want to cuss you out, to be honest.”

The other eyebrow rises to join the first, as a huff of wry laughter escapes his lips. “Oh?”

You deflate slightly, your bottom lip finding its way between your teeth. It shouldn’t be so easy for a parent to get a rise out of you, but Jungkook seems to do it so easily—and so often. “I’m not going to,” you murmur. 

“No?” Jungkook’s gaze darts down to your lips, then up to your eyes, and then down to your lips again. “That’s rather disappointing.”

Unwittingly, you’ve drifted even closer to him since you first started talking. You can see each fleck of amber in his irises, and could probably count each of his individual eyelashes if you so cared. This close to him, you can see that one of his eyebrows is pierced—his dark hair brushed back just enough to reveal the silvery metal embedded in his skin. You don’t pull away though, and neither does he. If anything, he seems to be willing you closer—his lips parting and his tongue darting out to moisten them.

And then he blinks, and you pull back as if burned. “If… if that’s all, I should really get back to cleaning up,” you stammer, hating the wobble in your voice as you return to your desk and grab a fresh wet wipe. “Principal Baker’s office is down the hall on the left.”

“I remember. I was there yesterday, after all.” The faint amusement has returned to his tone. Straightening his tie, he begins making his way to the exit, only to pause in the doorframe and glance at you once more over his shoulder. “Oh, and Miss {L/N}?”

You look up. “Yes?”

“You should really look in a mirror. It looks like a Smurf exploded on your face.” 

///

Saturday brings with it clear blue skies and a sweet, sweet reprieve from the chaos of the week. You’d promised Trixie that you would make ratatouille together over the weekend—just like in the movie—and now you’re making good on that promise as you push a shopping cart around the grocery store with your daughter skipping happily by your side. “Ooh! We need these, right?” she exclaims, pointing at a display of zucchini, and you nod, watching as she carefully selects two and plunks them into the cart. 

Together, the two of you finish up in the produce section and head for the aisles that house all the baking goods. Trixie peruses the shelves as you stock up on the essentials—flour, sugar, and a couple boxes of baking soda. Then you grab a package of chocolate chips, laughing when Trixie immediately perks up at the sound of the bag crinkling and whirls around to look at you with wide, eager eyes. 

 “Can we do chocolate chip and peanut butter cookies?” she asks, clasping her hands in front of her chest. 

“I think you’re pushing your luck, young lady,” you tell her, but relent when she selflessly offers to bring the extras to class on Monday to share. 

Ten minutes later, you’re heading toward the checkout line when you suddenly realize that you’ve forgotten something. “Tomatoes,” you say aloud, glancing down at Trixie apologetically. “Totally slipped my mind. Let’s go grab some, bug.”

Trixie sighs dramatically, but turns toward the produce section nonetheless. Faster than you can blink, she trots off, leaving you to trail after her with the shopping cart. Maneuvering around a particularly tall display of onions, you pull out your phone to check the grocery list one more time—only to be interrupted by the metallic clang of your shopping cart hitting another. Immediately, you open your mouth to apologize, but stop short when your eyes meet the owner of the other cart.

“O-oh,” you stammer, your head spinning as you try to recover your full vocabulary. “Mr. Jeon. I… I didn’t see you there.”

Jungkook chuckles. “That much I gathered.” Then he nods toward Trixie, who you can just barely see two aisles and a crate of watermelons away. “Doing some shopping, Miss {L/N}?”

You don’t respond. Your brain is in overdrive, struggling to reconcile the Jungkook standing in front of you with the one you’d seen just yesterday in your paint-splattered classroom. His dark hair isn’t parted neatly across his forehead for once—instead, it falls in soft waves around his face. Rather reluctantly, your brain acknowledges that he looks good—irritatingly so. You’ve never seen him in casual clothes before—only neatly pressed suits that cost more than your entire paycheck—and the change is jarring to say the least. His purple sweatshirt is baggy and his black joggers are just tight enough to show off the definition of his thighs, and—

—hang on, is he wearing Birkenstocks?

Trixie, thankfully, comes to the rescue as you gape at Jungkook’s feet for several seconds too long. “Is this enough?” she asks, lugging a plastic bag bulging with at least a dozen heirloom tomatoes. Still a little shellshocked, you look down at her, blinking dumbly before bursting into laughter.

“That’s plenty, bug. In fact, we probably need to put some back, unless you want tomatoes in your cookies too.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad,” Trixie says thoughtfully, pursing her lips. “Or we can make marinara and have spaghetti and meatballs tomorrow!”

Jungkook chooses that moment to huff out a laugh of his own. “Spaghetti and meatballs, huh? Great minds must think alike—Daeun suggested the exact same thing for our dinner tonight. Only thing is, we’re apparently making everything by hand, even the spaghetti. And we’ve never made pasta before, so…” He chuckles. “You can imagine how well that’ll probably go.”

You glance around the nearest visible aisles. “Daeun’s a proper little chef, I see. Is she here with you?”

The dark-haired man gestures toward the back of the grocery store. “I tasked her with grabbing some milk and eggs while I get the onions. She won’t go near them until they’re cooked, so I figured this would be most efficient.”

You grin. “Divide and conquer, huh?”

“Exactly,” Jungkook answers with a surprisingly boyish smile. You note with amusement that his front teeth are more prominent than the rest, just enough to give him the resemblance of a rabbit. Rather unfairly, it somehow manages to work in his favor when put together with the rest of him. Your cheeks warm when you register again just how handsome he truly is, and you quickly suck in a deep breath as you search around for a distraction.

You’re in luck. Daeun rounds the corner of a nearby display of cantaloupes with a wide grin, a gallon jug of milk and a carton of eggs in either hand. Her grin widens when she spots you, and you chuckle as she tries and fails to raise her jug-bearing hand to wave.

“Hi, Miss {L/N}!” she exclaims as she comes to a stop alongside Jungkook’s cart and deposits her goods inside. “What’re you doing here?”

“Dae,” Jungkook chides gently, but you laugh and wave him off.

“Hi, Daeun. I’m doing some shopping with Trixie, just like you are with your dad. Speaking of which—you probably have a lot of cooking to get to.” You return your attention to Jungkook. “I mean, I know we do. Somehow, I was talked into making two types of cookies this weekend, so we should really head out and get started.”

“Wait—hang on a second.” Jungkook speaks again, and maybe it’s your imagination but you think you hear a tinge of desperation in his tone. “I’m actually glad we ran into you today. We were going to do this on Monday but since you’re both here, Daeun has something she’d like to say to Trixie. Isn’t that right, Dae?”

Daeun’s gaze drops to where she’s scuffing her sneakered feet against the tiled linoleum floor. Jungkook reaches down, giving her an encouraging nudge, and she hesitates for a second before looking back up and glancing between you and Trixie. “I’m sorry,” she begins shyly. “I shouldn’t’ve thrown paint at you. Or taken your book.” And when Jungkook nudges her again and lifts an eyebrow, she continues again. “And… I’m sorry for laughing when you fell down on the playground. It wasn’t funny, and I wasn’t being nice. I’m really sorry, Trixie.”

There’s a beat of silence, as Daeun falls silent and looks at your daughter hopefully. You glance between the two girls, then up at Jungkook, who still has a hand on Daeun’s shoulder and seems to be holding his breath. Trixie, for her part, looks to be deep in thought, her face scrunched in contemplation as she taps a finger against her lips. Vaguely, you wonder if you should say something, but decide against it.

And then Trixie beams, toothy and bright. Daeun’s answering smile is still tentative, but it transforms into full-blown giggles when your daughter rushes forward and clasps one of her hands in both of her own. “I forgive you,” she says shortly, giving her hand a shake like a little businesswoman. You and Jungkook watch on as the two girls proceed to skip off, hand-in-hand and singing “Baby Shark”. 

“Wow,” you remark, turning back to Jungkook. “I have to admit, I’m a little surprised. What brought that on?”

Jungkook begins to look rather sheepish, scratching at the back of his neck. “I actually have a bit of a confession to make. Not to mention, I owe you a huge apology. I talked to Dae last night, and… well, you were right. She wasn’t acting out for no reason. She… she was actually jealous of Trixie."

You frown. "What?"

He nods. "Yeah. See, I got promoted at my job a while ago. Right after the holidays, I had to start working longer hours, which of course meant less time at home with her. And I guess all of that took its toll, especially since I had to stop taking her to school every morning.” He sighs. “She didn’t adjust very well to that. I tried my best to make things work, but there’s only so much I can do, you know? Eventually I had to set up a morning carpool with some of the neighbors. And I tried to ease the transition as much as I could, but…” He trails off with another sigh. “Guess I did kind of a shit job there.” 

Your mind is reeling at all of this new information, but you manage to find your voice again after a few moments. “You did your best,” you tell him, resisting the sudden urge to reach out and touch his arm. “And you’re still trying. That’s all that matters, you know. You’re trying to make things better. Daeun can sense that, and believe me, it’s paying off.”

Jungkook chuckles. “I think you’re giving me too much credit, but thank you. I’m just glad that Dae has a good school and good teachers. Actually, you’ve always been her favorite, did you know that?”

You didn’t. “Really?”

“Really.” 

You aren’t sure what to say after that, so you opt to look around instead. At some point—you aren’t sure when—the two of you must’ve started walking around the grocery store again because all around you are shelves full of bread and baked goods. Mindlessly, you grab a bag of everything bagels and smile when Jungkook follows your lead and drops a bag into his own cart.

A few minutes of meandering later, you find Trixie and Daeun together in the snack aisle, deep in discussion about their favorite candies. The conversation winds down as you and Jungkook approach, and you decide not to comment when Trixie not-so-surreptitiously slips a package of chocolate caramels into your shopping cart.

“We should probably get going,” you say instead, pulling out your phone and glancing at the time. “Gosh, there really aren’t enough hours in the day. You ready, bug?”

“Yep!” Trixie replies cheerily, turning to wave goodbye to Daeun and Jungkook. “Bye, Daeun! Bye, Mr. Jeon!”

“See you Monday, Trixie! You too, Miss {L/N}!” Daeun exclaims. And as you and Jungkook exchange smiles and farewells of your own, you feel lighter than you’ve felt in days, as if an invisible weight has lifted.

///

Like clockwork, Monday morning finds you at the counter of Bean There, Done That! with an apologetic Jin offering you your usual coffee in a size larger than the one you’d paid for. “Again?” you exclaim as you accept the cup and take a generous sip. “I can’t believe this. You opened like, twenty minutes ago.”

The corner of Jin’s mouth twitches. Then, with a dramatic flourish, he produces a full tray of cinnamon streusel bagels from somewhere beneath the counter, picking out the best-looking one before sliding the tray into its spot in the display. “I just wanted to see the look on your face,” he admits as he slips the bagel into a paper bag and hands it over. “These are fresh—still pretty warm, in fact. Surprised you didn’t smell them when you came in.”

“I did smell them,” you tell him, wagging a finger. “But the blueberry bagels are always kind of overpowering and this whole place tends to smell like vanilla anyway, so excuse me for taking you for your word when you said you were out.”

“You know, a simple ‘thank you’ would’ve sufficed,” Jin sniffs. Then he gestures to the stack of napkins next to the cash register and waggles his eyebrows. “Care to leave a snarky note of your own?”

A slow grin spreads across your face as you start fishing in your purse for a pen. “Abso-fucking-lutely.”

///

The rest of the day goes smoothly, and you’re pretty sure it’s all thanks to the cinnamon streusel bagel you’d had the time to truly savor this morning. You’d even bought an extra for Taehyung, who for his part contributed a tupperware full of bacon strips and a pitcher of mixed berry smoothie to your breakfast. For lunch you’d made sure to eat a healthy dose of vegetables, and as you head into the final period of the day, you feel more than ready to give a room full of children their next big assignment.

“All right, class,” you say as your students filter into the classroom and start taking their seats. “We’ve been learning about the animal kingdom for the last few weeks, and it’s finally time to put everything we’ve learned so far together. I’m going to go around and hand each of you a card. Take a look at it—you’ll either see a picture of an animal, or the name of an animal.” Grabbing the stack of cards off your desk, you begin distributing them, slowly making your way up and down the rows of desks. “Then, I want you to get up out of your seats and find the card that matches yours. If there’s a picture of a zebra on your card, you want to find the person with ‘zebra’ written on their card. And that person will be your partner for this project. Does that make sense to everyone?”

Nods and exclamations of affirmation all around. Satisfied, you hand out the last of your cards and return to your desk, gesturing for your students to stand up and find their partners. You watch as the children mill around, exclaiming happily when they find their match. Much to your satisfaction, you see that Daisy—a little girl who always has her blond hair corralled into a neat braid—and Josiah—a well-mannered boy with a different-colored polo for each day of the week—just so happen to be partners. You hadn’t planned it that way, but you’ve always gotten the feeling that there was a hint of a little crush there.

Another pleasant surprise comes in the form of Daeun, who’s plopped herself in the seat beside Trixie and is animatedly gesturing at her card. Even from your spot in the front of the classroom, you can read the big block letters that spell out “penguin” and see the corresponding line drawing on Trixie’s card. And as the girls begin to chat, it’s as if the issues of the last few months hadn’t happened at all.

Your class spends the last few hours of the school day in the library, working on their newly assigned project. You’ve set up shop at the table nearest Taehyung’s desk, which you’ve always kind of envied. Perfectly round and situated in the center of the room, it allows for a 360-degree view of the entire library if he so much as spins in his chair. “Honestly, I could get so much done if I had one of these,” you lament to him as you watch Josiah sharpen Daisy’s pencil for her out of the corner of your eye. “I’d set up the best frickin’ assembly line you ever saw.”

“You sound like a workaholic,” Taehyung replies, doing yet another lazy revolution in his seat. “Or a lunatic. Same thing, really.” 

Resisting the urge to stick your tongue out at him, you settle for rolling your eyes instead. The final bell of the day rings, and you shepherd your students out of the library with your friend on your heels. As the children disperse to their lockers, you trail after Trixie and Daeun, waiting for the two to say their goodbyes so you and your daughter can walk to the car together. It’s still odd seeing the two getting along so well, but you aren’t about to question it as you and Taehyung follow the girls to their lockers—which happen to be in the same section of the hallway—and then out and into the bright afternoon sun. Smiling, you listen to them chattering excitedly about the project even as Taehyung launches into a tirade about his latest rent increase.

“Seriously, I should just move at this point—it’s fucking ridiculous. I don’t even use the conference center, and the indoor pool is just a waste of space when there’s a public one that’s twice the size three blocks away. And that one even has a hot tub! Not to mention—”

You sigh, cutting him off mid-sentence. “Jeez, Tae, just move. You’ve been threatening to for over a year now, and it’s not like anyone’s forcing you to stay. You don’t even like the neighborhood, for god’s sake. I don’t know why you stuck around for that long.”

Taehyung sniffs. “Moving’s just such a hassle, you know? I really wanted to avoid it, but I guess I can’t this time around. A 22% rent increase… fucking hell. You’ll help me pack, won’t you?”

“I’d rather not.”

“But you’re so good at packing! And you have all that bubble wrap and the box of styrofoam peanuts hoarded in your closet—”

“Stored in my closet.”

“Whatever,” he says dismissively, waving you off. “I’m not here to debate semantics with you.”

“No, you’re here to guilt me into helping you move,” you reply. “What’s up with that, anyway? I thought you swore off of renting U-Hauls for good after last time. You were googling moving companies and getting quotes for weeks.”

“Yeah, I definitely lost that spreadsheet,” Taehyung admits. “Besides, money’s a little tight right now. Every last bit of spare change we have is going toward Jimin’s new pilates studio. We’re saving wherever and whenever  we can.”

You nod in understanding at the mention of his fiancé and his new business venture. “How’s all that going, anyhow? I know Jimin’s been super busy—we haven’t been to bar trivia in weeks.”

“Yeah, it’s a whole thing,” Taehyung says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Starting a business is hard—who knew?”

“Who knew, indeed,” you echo. You’re about to say something else, too, but any semblance of coherence flies out of your head when you glance at the girls again and see that they’ve come to a stop. There’s a sleek black Mercedes-Benz idling at the curb, and leaning against it is none other than Jungkook Jeon—dressed in a sharp navy blue ensemble with his hair slicked back and dark sunglasses perched on his nose. It’s impossible to tell whether he’s seen you yet, and it’s all you can do to tear your gaze away before you get caught staring. Turning back instead to Taehyung, you raise a hand in farewell. “Well, it looks like this is my stop.”

“Seems that way,” your friend hums, casting a curious glance at Trixie, who’s enthusiastically greeted Jungkook with a Hi again, Mr. Jeon! and is now giggling with Daeun about how they can see their reflections in his car. “See you tomorrow. Don’t get into too much trouble!”

You roll your eyes at the flagrant wink Taehyung sends your way, surreptitiously flipping him off from behind your tote bag. Then you make your way over to your daughter, who’s still engrossed in conversation. Coming to a stop behind her, you lay a hand on her shoulder, smiling as she looks up and flashes you a big grin. “All righty. You ready to go home, jitterbug?” you ask.

Trixie juts her bottom lip out into a pout. “Can I go to Daeun’s?”

You raise an eyebrow, glancing up at Jungkook, who’s now scrolling through his phone. Then you return your gaze to your daughter, taking in her eager, bright eyes. “I don’t know, bug. Have you asked Mr. Jeon if you can come over?”

Daeun pipes up then, her pigtails bobbing with every word. “He says it’s okay, Miss {L/N}! Since we have a project to work on and all. He even said we can order takeout for dinner!”

Again, you look at Jungkook. His expression is unreadable behind his sunglasses, but when he feels your gaze he glances up, tucking his phone back into his pocket and pushing his sunglasses up onto his head. “Dae’s right—I did promise the girls takeout. Sorry to catch you off guard with last-minute plans like this, Miss {L/N}. If you’d like, you’re welcome to join us as well.”

You blink. To say that the invitation has caught you off guard would be a massive understatement, and as your brain races to catch up, you suddenly realize that he’s willing to let you come to his home. You would be in his space—where he lives, eats, sleeps. The thought is simultaneously terrifying and exhilarating.

“I—I don’t want to impose,” you finally manage after what feels like an eternity. “I’m sure you’re busy, and I have a lot of homework to grade, and…” You trail off, hesitant, and Jungkook waits a beat before chiming in.

“No imposition at all,” he says, offering you a small smile. “Honest. I’ve spent two of the last three weekends hosting sleepovers for Daeun’s friends, and I’m not convinced I remember what adult company is like anymore.” Then his smile widens—just enough to offer a glimpse of his endearingly prominent front teeth and crinkle the corners of his eyes. “Remind me?”

You aren’t sure if you’re imagining the flirtatious edge in his tone, but you push the thought to the very back of your head and straighten the hem of your blouse before grasping for the phone tucked in your bag. “I… I suppose that would be all right,” you begin hesitantly as you pretend to check for new notifications. “You’re sure it won’t be any trouble?”

“None at all,” Jungkook reassures. “Here, I’ll give you my address for your GPS, but it might be easier if you just follow me. Where are you parked?”

You gesture toward the staff parking lot, which is usually separated from the main lot by a row of neatly manicured hydrangea bushes that bloom in bursts of pink and blue and purple during the spring and summer months. Right now, there are only a few sparse yellow daffodils, pushing up through the dirt and signaling that spring is not far off despite the lingering chill in the air. “I’m about three rows in. I can drive over and meet you here, if that works?”

Trixie chooses that moment to pipe up, instinctively raising her hand like she’s still in class. “Can I ride with Daeun and Mr. Jeon?”

You hesitate, glancing over at Jungkook, who shrugs as if to say fine by me. Turning your attention back to your daughter, you nod and reach down to adjust the glittery pink scrunchie in her hair. “Be good,” you order. “Don’t distract Mr. Jeon while he’s driving, okay?”

“Mmhmm,” Trixie hums, already turning toward the sleek black Benz and tugging on the door handle. “See you there, Mom!”

You wave, watching as the girls climb into the backseat before turning and making your way to your own car. Unlocking the door, you slide into the driver’s seat and take a deep breath. Then, you take another. And a few moments later, you take a third.

Even as you mentally play back the events of the afternoon, you still can’t wrap your head around how it came to this. Here you are, about to drive to Jungkook Jeon’s house. You’ve seen his address in your files, and you know from the street name that he lives downtown, in the part of the city that’s dominated by high-rise buildings and five-star hotels. It’s an area that you don’t visit often, having no reason to unless there’s a particular restaurant that you’re looking to try out—and have the money for. It feels odd inputting his address into your phone’s navigation app, but you do so nonetheless, watching as it calculates the optimal route. 

Steeling yourself, you start up the ignition and ease up on the brake. As you pull out of your parking space, you crane your head to see if Jungkook’s car is still where you’d last seen it, which it thankfully is. Slowly, you make your way over to where the Benz is idling, pulling up alongside him and giving him a little wave. Jungkook has donned his sunglasses again, but he lowers them when he sees you and nods in acknowledgment. Ready to go? he mouths, and you nod even though it’s a lie. You aren’t ready. You aren’t sure you ever will be. But Jungkook is already pulling ahead and out of the parking lot, and you’re forced to push aside your intrusive thoughts and follow. 

The first stretch of the drive is easy. Jungkook is a measured driver, and you can tell that he’s taking care to turn only when there’s enough room for both of your vehicles. The second stretch, however, proves far more difficult. Now that you’re downtown, there’s an abundance of one-way streets and pedestrians. Traffic lights sit on seemingly every corner, alternating between red, yellow, and green at random, as far as you can tell. You nearly lose Jungkook twice on particularly short green lights, and only narrowly avoid hitting an overeager dog dragging its hapless owner into the crosswalk before the walk sign has changed. 

The third time, it finally happens. Dismayed, you watch as Jungkook’s sleek black Benz cruises past a green light, just before it turns yellow for a split second and then flips to red. You’re forced to brake far faster than you’d prefer—way too fast to be safe, for sure—and watch as Jungkook disappears around the Starbucks on the next corner. Muttering out a quiet curse, you drum your fingers impatiently on the steering wheel as you wait for the light to change again. Thankfully, you’re only about two minutes from your destination. 

After what feels like an eternity, the light finally turns green. Releasing your foot on the brake, you take the turn that Jungkook had taken, glancing between your phone and the surrounding buildings to identify your destination. There’s a string of restaurants, a pharmacy, and a post office. You cruise past a dentist’s office and a few dry cleaners, and then your phone is directing you to turn right onto a street that boasts a long row of glass-fronted office buildings. 

Two blocks later, you’re pulling up to a tall, sleek chrome building. The first floor is occupied by a seafood restaurant and the second and third seem to be a gym, but as you crane your head upward you can see that the floors above that seem to be condominiums. Letting your head fall back against the headrest, you glance down at your phone one more time, confirming that this is indeed your destination. Then you take a long, deep breath before you begin following the little blue signs that claim to lead to a parking garage beneath the building.

To your relief, the garage itself isn’t difficult to find. You take a ticket from the machine as you descend down the concrete ramp, keeping an eye out for any open spots that are designated as guest parking. Seconds pass, and then minutes. Your heart flutters nervously in your chest as you descend deeper into the parking garage, seeking a break in the rows of cars that never comes. You’re seconds away from giving up and turning around, when finally, you see an open spot. It’s a little cramped and it’s right next to a concrete pillar that’s just a little too close for comfort, but you manage to squeeze into the space. Heaving a deep sigh of relief, you turn off the ignition and tuck your keys into your purse, taking a moment to gather yourself before exiting your car and locking it behind you.

That’s when you encounter your next obstacle: figuring out how, exactly, to get out of the parking garage. You can’t find a single sign to guide your way—only a locked dark green door that you assume is some kind of mechanical room. Groaning, you spin in a full circle, taking in your concrete surroundings. Maybe if you just start walking, you’ll find a sign that will point you to the elevators. You’d even consider taking the stairs at this point, no matter how many floors down you are (you’re pretty sure it’s seven or eight). 

Just then, your phone begins to buzz in your pocket. Pulling it out, you see Jungkook Jeon (Daeun’s Dad) emblazoned across the screen and immediately swipe to answer. “Hello?”

“Hey,” Jungkook says, obvious relief coloring his tone. “I’m sorry I lost you back there. Where are you now?”

“I’m in the parking garage below your building,” you reply, idly scuffing your foot along the concrete floor. “I’m parked pretty far down, and now I can’t seem to figure out how to get upstairs.”

Jungkook hums thoughtfully. “Yeah, I’ll admit the signage isn’t great down there. Let me see… can you see any doors?”

“Just this green one, but it’s locked.” Reaching out, you try the handle again to double-check. “Other than that, nothing.”

Another hum from the man on the other end of the line. “Okay, walk away from that door. Try and head toward the middle of the garage—that’s where the elevators are. There’s four of them, and they’re in this big concrete circle. Can you see them yet?”

“Maybe?” You can see a break in the rows of cars up ahead, and a rounded concrete wall in the distance. Speeding up, you make your way around the edge and blink as a bank of elevators comes into view. “Oh, wait—yeah! Huh. Weird. I didn’t expect the doors to be orange.”

Jungkook chuckles. “Each floor’s color-coordinated, yeah. Orange means you’re near the bottom, though. Didn’t you see the guest parking on the first floor?”

You blink. “No, I don’t think so. Did I miss something?”

That draws another chuckle from him. “Probably. There’s a row of spaces off to the right as soon as you enter the garage, but it can be pretty easy to miss if you don’t know to look for it. I should’ve given you a heads-up.”

“It’s okay,” you tell him as you enter the elevator and hit the button for the thirty-fourth floor. “I could’ve asked.”

Bidding him farewell and assuring that you’ll see him soon, you hang up and tuck your phone back into your pocket. The elevator ride is relatively short despite how high you’re going, and before you know it you find yourself standing in front of a navy blue door with a polished brass knocker. Raising your hand, you’re about to knock when the door flies open, revealing Daeun and Trixie standing there with identical grins.

“You’re finally here!” your daughter exclaims, bounding forward to take you by the hand and lead you inside. “Mr. Jeon said we had to wait for you to get here. He says he’s gonna give us a grand tour!”

“It’s really not as exciting as they’re making it sound.” Jungkook’s voice comes from around the corner, and the man himself steps into view a moment later. He’s taken off his jacket and removed his tie, leaving him in navy slacks and a crisp white shirt with the first few buttons undone. Your gaze lingers a little too long on this newly exposed sliver of chest, but you forcibly tear your gaze away when Trixie gives your hand a squeeze. 

“Come on, Mom! You can see everything from the window. It’s like you’re on top of a mountain!”

Laughing, you follow your daughter deeper into the apartment. She points to the closet off the foyer, where you obligingly hang up your coat next to her periwinkle one. Then she leads you to the far end of the foyer, where it opens into a wide hallway. On the other side of the hall is an archway that leads to a spacious kitchen with white cabinets and polished granite countertops. You take note of the bright yellow bar stools at the kitchen island, chuckling when Daeun loudly declares that she picked them out—and that Jungkook had caved to her despite wanting boring gray ones instead.

As you continue your tour, it becomes abundantly clear that Jungkook has caved to his daughter on multiple occasions. The furniture in the living area is neutral—shades of beige and dark wood that pair well with the polished floorboards and modern floor-to-ceiling windows. But scattered throughout the space are pops of color and quirkiness that you can confidently attribute to Daeun—having graded several of the art pieces that you now see hanging on the wall and adorning the sleek glass coffee table. There’s the lopsided clay vase painted with streaks of hot pink and specks of bright yellow, and there’s the papier-mâché snowman with his jaunty orange hat. You see more and more of Daeun’s influence everywhere you look—the watercolor butterfly paintings on the wall, and the red floral accent chair that you’re sure Jungkook didn’t pick out himself. 

“That’s Daddy’s room,” Daeun says, pointing to a nondescript white door beside the bookshelves that flank the flatscreen TV hanging on the wall. Then she points down the hall, past the kitchen where you can see a few more doors. “And that’s my room down there, next to Daddy’s office. Do you want to see?”

You nod. “I can’t wait. Lead the way.”

Cheerfully, Daeun gestures for you to follow after her as she skips toward the door at the very end of the hall. She opens it with a flourish, allowing all of you inside, and as soon as you step past the threshold you’re transported to a fantastical world. Daeun’s bedroom walls are painted to resemble an enchanted forest, complete with delicate fairy lights wrapped around the wooden four-poster bed. A white desk and an accompanying green chair sit in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, the pale pink curtains opened to let sunlight stream in. Along the sill is a collection of stuffed animals, ranging from a tiny butterfly to an elephant that you’re pretty sure is taller than Daeun herself. Opposite the bed is a gallery wall, composed of colorful floral prints and Daeun’s own art—a charming, eclectic mix of animal paintings and landscapes. It’s the kind of bedroom that you would’ve loved as a child, and your daughter is equally taken with it if her awed expression is anything to go by. 

“This is so cool!” Trixie runs to the window to peer out at the city below, before twirling in a circle to take in the art on the walls. “I can’t believe you live here. It’s like a magic forest!”

“It’s a beautiful room,” you remark, nodding your agreement. “And all of these drawings are amazing, Daeun. You’re a talented artist.”

Daeun flushes at the compliment, thanking you with a shy smile. Then she and Trixie are off again, speeding down the hallway to look at something else in the apartment. You and Jungkook trail after them slowly, until he opens another door off the hall to reveal his office. It’s smaller than Daeun’s bedroom and far more simplistic in its decor, but it’s a cozy and inviting space nonetheless. One wall is lined with mahogany bookshelves, and a polished wooden desk is pushed against the opposite. A plush burgundy armchair with a matching ottoman sits in the corner beside a tall potted plant, creating the perfect space for reading, and you can tell from the indentation in the seat cushion that it’s been well-loved over the years.

“I’ve definitely been bringing my work home too much lately,” Jungkook admits. “I’ve been cutting back though. Ever since Daeun’s behavioral problems…” He trails off. “Well, you know all about that already. And I do want to apologize for giving you a hard time. It’s just… I guess it’s not all that fun being told that you’re failing as a parent.”

“You’re not failing as a parent,” you reply, laying a hand on his arm before you can think to stop yourself. “You’re doing your best. It’s all we can do, isn’t it? Do everything we possibly can for our children?”

He nods, but he isn’t looking at you. He’s looking down at your hand on his arm, and you blanch inwardly as you quickly pull back and pretend to brush invisible dirt off your skirt. “We should go find the girls,” you murmur. And just like that, the tour is over. 

The two of you rejoin the girls in the kitchen, where they’ve begun assembling themselves a snack of peanut butter and crackers. Jungkook slices up an apple and a banana for them to share, and they barely take the time to thank him before disappearing into Daeun’s bedroom to work on their project. You and Jungkook find yourselves alone in the kitchen, and when the silence between you has stretched on for just long enough to be awkward, you decide to speak. “So. I guess I should probably grade some homework while I’m here.”

Jungkook blinks and shakes his head a little, as if coming out of a trance. “Right, of course. I’ve got a few things I need to wrap up myself. Please, make yourself comfortable. You’re free to work in the office, if you’d like.”

Immediately, you shake your head. “Oh, no. I don’t want to intrude.”

He nods, then gestures out toward the dining table, which sits in a little nook between the main living area and kitchen. “Well then, feel free to make use of the table. Or the kitchen island. Or even the couch, if you’d prefer.” He pauses. “Wait, where are my manners? I haven’t even offered you anything to drink! Did you want anything?” 

“Oh.” You hesitate. “I’m okay.”

Jungkook begins making his way to the refrigerator, regardless. “Seriously, it’s no trouble. I have coffee, tea, banana milk, and I think there’s probably a carton of apple juice in here too. What do you usually drink when you’re grading?”

“Tea,” you admit. “Any kind. I’m not picky.”

“Tea it is.” Jungkook sets about grabbing two mugs. “Go on, make yourself comfortable. I’ll bring it to you.”

For a moment, you wonder if you should ask if he needs help. But he’s already preoccupied with the kettle, his back to you, and you have to force yourself to look away from the way his broad shoulders taper into his slim waist. In an attempt to distract yourself from gawking, you walk back out to the dining table. Pulling out a chair, you settle your bag on the floor beside you and take a seat. And by the time Jungkook comes out of the kitchen with two steaming mugs of tea, you’re already halfway through grading the first math worksheet in your pile.

“Here you go.” Jungkook places a mug by your elbow, and you glance up at him with a grateful smile.

“Thanks.” “No problem.”

To your surprise, he takes his mug to the opposite side of the table and sets it down. Then he disappears into the kitchen, returning a few seconds later with his laptop in hand. You try not to stare as he sets up shop across from you, a loose lock of dark hair flopping across his forehead as he logs in and begins reading something, his dark eyes flitting across the screen. His piercing in his eyebrow glints in the sunlight streaming in through the nearby window.

Ripping your gaze away, you force yourself to focus on the homework you need to grade. And after a few minutes, you’re fully immersed, thumbing through sheet after sheet and writing down your notes.

Before you even realize it, two hours have passed. You only become aware of how late it’s getting when Jungkook shuts his laptop with a click, stretching his arms overhead and working a few kinks out of his neck. “It’s almost dinnertime,” he remarks, glancing out the window where the sun is steadily dropping closer to the horizon. “Did you have any thoughts about dinner? I can order some pizza or something.”

“Oh, I don’t think—” you begin to protest, but Daeun and Trixie choose that moment to dash in like mini tornadoes, whirling around the dining table. 

“We can still order takeout for dinner, right Daddy?” Daeun gazes up at Jungkook with pleading eyes, clasping her hands in front of her chest. “And Trixie and Miss {L/N} can stay if we do, right?”

Trixie looks at you, lower lip already beginning to jut out in a pout. “Please, Mom?”

Jungkook gives you a meaningful glance across the table, and you can only shrug and relent. “Yeah, all right. Since takeout was already promised, we can stay for dinner. But we’re going home after that, okay? It’s a school night.”

The girls burst into cheers. After a brief discussion on what kind of food to order, you all settle on Jungkook’s initial suggestion of pizza. As he puts in the order, you begin tidying up the dining table, clearing it of your graded homework. Daeun points out where the plates are kept, and together, you and the girls set the table for dinner. 

“Estimated delivery time is half an hour,” Jungkook says as he tucks his phone back into his pocket and joins you at the dining table. “What should we do while we wait?”

“Let’s play Candyland!” Daeun exclaims. 

Trixie gasps. “I love Candyland!”

And just like that, it’s settled. The four of you settle around the coffee table for the game—you and Jungkook making yourselves comfortable on the cream-colored sectional while the girls sprawl out on the shaggy rug on the floor. The pizza arrives just as Trixie reaches Candy Castle, and Jungkook goes to answer the door while she celebrates her victory. Then, the four of you sit down for dinner.

It’s strange, sitting in Jungkook’s undoubtedly expensive apartment and eating pizza. But even more strange is how okay it all feels—natural, even. You aren’t sure when you became so comfortable in his presence, but you aren’t about to question it. You’re grateful for the lack of awkwardness.

An hour later, the last slice of pizza is finished. You volunteer to do the dishes, and Jungkook clears the table while you take up residence at the sink. You’ve tasked Trixie with gathering up her things so you can depart after you’ve finished in the kitchen, and can hear her giggling off in the distance with Daeun. “Thanks for hosting us today,” you murmur to Jungkook.

He chuckles, waving off your gratitude. “It’s no problem, seriously. I had a good time.”

You smile at him before returning to the dishes. Just as you’re putting away the last plate, the girls run back into the kitchen—Trixie with her backpack in tow. 

“Can Daeun come to our house next time?” she asks, and you laugh.

“Sure, jitterbug. You’re welcome to come over whenever you’d like, Daeun.”

And with that, you and Trixie say your final goodbyes. You slip back into your shoes and grab your coats from the closet. Jungkook gives you directions for the easiest route out of the parking garage, and you thank him for what feels like the umpteenth time.

You’re barely listening to your daughter’s ramblings as you climb into the driver’s seat and turn on the ignition. All you can think about is Jungkook and this strange, newfound warmth that stirs in your belly whenever he seeps into your thoughts.

///

“You wiped that part of the counter already.”

Trixie’s voice barely registers in your mind, but the washcloth in your hand slows nonetheless. It’s a beautiful Saturday morning with hardly a cloud in the sky, and Jungkook and Daeun are due to arrive any minute. You’ve been cleaning for the past hour, and even though you know you’ve already gone through the kitchen, you can’t help yourself. This is the first time Jungkook will be seeing your humble abode, and you—ostensibly—want to impress.

“Bug, can you set the table?”

Trixie sighs dramatically, but complies nonetheless. Grabbing four plates, she places them down carefully before returning for four glasses. You join her at the table with a pitcher of freshly squeezed orange juice, straightening out one of the striped blue placemats as you set it down beside the vase of flowers that serves as a centerpiece. 

You’ve just started frying bacon when the doorbell rings. “Got it!” Trixie calls, darting to the door, and you listen as she enthusiastically greets your guests. A few seconds later, Jungkook rounds the corner with both girls, decked out in jeans and a gray cable-knit sweather and carrying a plain white cardboard box in his hands. 

Curiously, you tilt your head. “Mysterious box you’ve got there.”

He laughs. “Hello to you too.” Then he puts the box down and pops open the lid. “I brought my favorite bagels—I hope that’s okay. Didn’t want to show up empty-handed.”

You smile at him. “Of course it’s okay. I was just planning on making some toast, but bagels are way be…” You trail off as the bagels in question come into your view. 

Perfectly golden, with a dusting of cinnamon sugar and streusel crumbles on top. You’d recognize them anywhere. 

“{Name}?” Jungkook sounds concerned. “Are you all right?”

You blink and shake your head, mind still whirring. “Are these from that coffee shop downtown? Bean There, Done That?” 

Jungkook nods. “Yeah, have you been?”

You nod. “This… this might sound crazy and I might be way off base. But do you stop there every morning for a bagel?”

Jungkook blinks. Then he blinks again, his lips parting wordlessly. A beat passes, and then another. “Wait,” he finally manages, his voice a croak. “Hang on. Is it… I mean, it can’t be… can it?”

You reach into the drawer next to the stovetop and pull out a wad of pen-stained napkins. “Did you leave me these?”

For a few seconds, it seems like Jungkook can only gape at you. “Holy shit,” he finally breathes, before slapping a hand to his mouth with wide eyes and glancing around to make sure the girls aren’t within earshot. “I was leaving you notes this whole time?”

You can only laugh in disbelief. “You were the one taking my cinnamon streusel bagels?”

“Hey, I wouldn’t have taken them if you’d gotten there earlier,” he teases. Chuckling, he picks up a napkin note and uncrumples it, scanning across the text. “Damn. Small world, huh?”

“The smallest,” you agree, mind reeling from this new development. Still chuckling, Jungkook steps past you to get to the stove, and you belatedly remember that the bacon is still sizzling in the pan as he picks up your tongs and carefully flips each strip. 

“I kept your notes too,” he says after a moment. “I shoved both of them in my glovebox.”

You huff. “Both. Yeah, okay, you beat me to the last bagel way more than I beat you. You don’t have to rub it in, Jungkook.”

“Oh, come on.” He grins, toothy and bright, and you’re momentarily distracted by the endearing prominence of his teeth. “I think I have to rub it in a little.”

“Hmph. As long as it’s only a little,” you concede as you join him at the stove with another pan and begin scrambling eggs. Together, the two of you finish making breakfast, piling eggs onto one plate and bacon on another. You grab the bowl of fruit salad you’d prepared last night out of the fridge, and Jungkook grabs the box of bagels and calls for Daeun and Trixie to come eat. Then, he surprises you by sitting beside you, leaving the girls to sit next to each other on the opposite side of the table.

Breakfast is a relaxed affair—even if Taco keeps trying to jump up on the table to steal some bacon. You’ve eaten several meals with Jungkook and Daeun since that first dinner—usually at Jungkook’s apartment, but also once at the food court in your local natural history museum, where you took the girls to see the ocean exhibit’s penguin display. Since this is the final weekend before their group project is due on Monday, you’ve promised to take them to the zoo to see real, live penguins and complete the last of their research. Both girls already have their backpacks packed and ready to go, and you task Jungkook with checking to make sure they have all their notes while you clean up in the kitchen. 

Twenty minutes later, you’re on your way to the zoo. Jungkook has volunteered to drive, and you can’t help but gape a little as he unlocks his sleek black Mercedes-Benz and opens up the passenger door to reveal cream-colored leather seats and shiny silver hardware. “Wow,” you remark, catching his eye as he walks around to the driver’s side. “This is like the Batmobile or something.”

“Hardly,” he says with a laugh. “I wish I had rocket boosters and ejection seats. That’d be cool as hell.”

“Daddy!” Daeun gasps, scandalized. “That’s a bad word!”

Jungkook has the decency to look properly abashed. “I’ll put a dollar in the swear jar when we get home,” he promises before pretending to zip his mouth shut and throw away the key. Satisfied, Daeun clambers into the backseat with Trixie on her heels, and Jungkook shoots you a conspiratorial little wink as he takes his own seat and starts up the engine.

The drive to the zoo takes only about fifteen minutes. It’s already beginning to get crowded by the time you get there, but Jungkook still manages to find parking with little difficulty. Together, the two of you usher your daughters out of the car, reminding them not to run too far ahead when they immediately make a beeline for the entrance. 

After a short wait in line to buy tickets, you finally make your way past the lion statues flanking the front gate. The wide concrete pathway leads to an open plaza where people are milling about—some looking at the directory located at the far end while others rely on the colorful signpost in the center, reading through the various directional arrows before heading off to their destination. Along the edges of the plaza are a multitude of stalls—selling everything from footlong hot dogs to stuffed animals to cotton candy. There’s a couple of artists painting faces, too, and Daeun only has to give Jungkook one wide-eyed, pleading look before he caves and pulls out his wallet. Aghast, you try to protest, but he waves you off and sends them both off with some cash in hand. 

“Consider it payment for all the bagels I’ve deprived you of,” he says, and you relent with a laugh.

Slowly, the two of you make your way around the plaza, making sure to keep a watchful eye on the girls at all times. Half an hour later, Trixie and Daeun come skipping back your way, their faces bright with colorful paint. Daeun has an intricate pink and blue butterfly, while Trixie has opted for the distinctive orange and black stripes of a tiger. 

“Do you like it?” she asks, and you nod, bopping her fondly on her painted black nose. 

“I don’t just like it, jitterbug. I love it.”

Pleased, she rejoins Daeun, who has successfully diverted Jungkook to the cotton candy stand. Following after her, you hand the vendor your credit card to pay for both snacks before Jungkook can get a word in edgewise. Reluctantly, he tucks his wallet away, laughing when you stick your tongue out at him.

Once the girls have had their fill of the main plaza, the four of you head off in the direction of the penguin exhibit, stopping to look at the zebras and giraffes along the way. Photographs are snapped, and Trixie even flags down a nearby couple and asks them to take a photo of all four of you together. The girls jostle into place in front of the giraffe enclosure, and you suddenly find yourself standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Jungkook, the warmth of his body radiating off of him like the sun in the sky. Your resulting smile feels forced—especially when the girl starts taking multiple photos from different angles—but gradually relaxes. And now, even as you enter the penguin exhibit, you can’t stop sneaking glances at the last photo. 

Because in it, you and Jungkook look like couple. You’re standing close enough that anyone who saw it would construe it as a family photo, the two of you beaming with your giggling daughters in front of you, their arms draped over each other’s shoulders.

Swallowing, you let your phone screen go dark and tuck it back into your pocket. You’re coming up on the penguin exhibit now, and the girls can barely contain their excitement as they run ahead to the outermost edge of the enclosure where a massive glass wall allows for a clear view of the penguins swimming about underwater.

“They’re so fast!” Trixie exclaims. She stops at one of the numerous placards lining the glass wall, her little face scrunching as she slowly reads it out loud to Daeun. “It says here some can swim over twenty miles an hour!”

As the girls pull out their notebooks and begin taking notes, you and Jungkook find an unoccupied bench near a rocky outcrop occupied by several bronze penguin statues. “Look,” Jungkook says, patting one of the upright penguins. “You can see how many people have rubbed this little guy’s head. It’s turned gold.”

“Must be good luck,” you remark, running a finger along the golden beak of another penguin. “Or maybe I should make a wish? I don’t really know what this situation calls for.”

“I’m pretty sure you make wishes when you throw a coin into a fountain,” your companion replies, brushing a dark strand of hair off his forehead. “Actually, I think I saw a fountain back there. Should we check it out later?”

“I don’t think I have any change on me,” you reply, peeking into your purse to make sure. “Seriously, who even carries coins anymore?”

“Not me,” Jungkook agrees. “I do usually have at least a little cash on me, though. It’s nice to have sometimes.”

“Mm, yeah. You never know when you’ll need it.”

Just then, Trixie and Daeun run up, gesturing toward the brown building at the very back of the enclosure. “There’s a penguin movie playing over there!” Daeun says. “Can we go see it?”

“Sure,” Jungkook says. “How long is it?”

“I think it runs every twenty minutes,” you reply when Daeun frowns and scratches her head. “Come on. If I’m remembering correctly, we should be able to see more penguins inside too.”

Daeun and Trixie beam. “Cool!” they exclaim in unison, before galloping off and leaving you and Jungkook to follow after them as quickly as you can manage without breaking into a run yourselves.

Your memory proves correct, as you enter the brown building and immediately see that the walls inside are glass as well. A penguin dives off of a rocky island and into the clear blue water, and you watch as it goes all the way to the bottom of the pool before coming back up for air. 

After doing a lap of the building, Daeun and Trixie decide to go into the theater to see the fifteen-minute short film. Meanwhile, you and Jungkook find a quiet little alcove near the entrance, chatting softly while watching the penguins behind the glass on the opposite wall. 

“I haven’t been to the zoo in ages,” Jungkook admits. “Dae’s mom used to always take her, though. They always came back with a stuffed animal from the gift shop—you might’ve seen them in Daeun’s room, actually. She loves them.”

You nod. “I remember, yeah. It’s quite an impressive collection.” Then you hesitate, gnawing on your bottom lip as you consider your next words and debate whether you’re being too nosy. “Daeun’s mom… can I ask what happened between you?” You pause, then quickly speak again. “And feel free to say no, obviously! You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I’m probably just poking my nose where it doesn’t belong.”

Jungkook smiles at you, but there’s a faraway quality to his gaze that wasn’t there before. “Nah, it’s okay. There’s really not much to tell, if I’m honest. Evelyn and I, we started dating when we were nineteen. We got married at twenty-three, had Daeun a couple years later, and then one day we realized that we’d become entirely different people and that we weren’t really in love anymore.”

“Oh.” You aren’t sure what else to say. “I-I’m sorry to hear that.”

He shrugs and sighs, tilting his head back to look up at the ceiling. “No need to be sorry; it was a mutual thing. Totally amicable. We’re still friends, and we’re a pretty kickass co-parenting team too.”

The conversation continues, and you find out that Evelyn’s job took her overseas last year. According to Jungkook, she currently lives with her new boyfriend, who’s a little pretentious but completely harmless. And despite the six-hour time difference, Evelyn still finds the time to FaceTime Jungkook and Daeun every Sunday afternoon. Because of those calls, she’s apparently heard all about you, too—you’re her favorite teacher, remember? he’d said with a laugh.

“What about you, then?” Jungkook glances over at you inquiringly, his eyebrows raised. “Is it my turn to pry?”

You can tell from the melodious lilt in his tone that he’s teasing. “My story’s far less interesting than yours,” you answer, fiddling with a stray thread on your jacket sleeve. “I don’t have an ex-partner or anything like that. I’ve just always wanted to be a mother, so one day I decided that I was going to do it. I used a donor, got pregnant, and here we are.”

Jungkook takes this in slowly, nodding. “Do you… I mean, do you know who your donor is? Have you met him?”

You shake your head. “No, it was an anonymous thing. I got a profile and some information about his appearance and hobbies and stuff, but not much beyond that.”

“I—” Jungkook begins, before trailing off. “I’m sorry. I’m asking too many questions. I don’t know a whole lot about the sperm donor thing, but I’m glad it worked out for you. Trixie’s an amazing kid.”

“She is,” you murmur. “I love her more than anything.”

“And you’re an amazing mom.” Jungkook’s voice grows softer, and when you turn to look at him, he seems closer than he was before. “I don’t know how you manage it all, teaching and parenting. But you do, and it’s incredible. You’re incredible.”

You aren’t sure who leans in first. All you know is that one moment, you’re staring into Jungkook’s earnest brown eyes, and then in the next, you’re kissing him.

It starts soft. Cautious, even. His lips press against yours gently, once, before he pulls back for a breath. You can feel him exhale, the warmth fanning your cheeks. And then you pull him back in by his collar, fisting one hand in the knit material and finding the soft hair at his nape with the other. 

Time slows to a standstill. Jungkook groans against your lips, and you feel the way it rumbles through his chest, the sensation sinking into your skin and settling straight in your core. His hands find your hips, and you wind both arms around his neck to pull him closer. 

And then, just as suddenly as it had stopped, time starts ticking again. Reality crashes down around you in the form of familiar, boisterous voices rapidly heading your way. You and Jungkook only barely manage to untangle yourselves before Trixie and Daeun round the corner of the alcove, chattering excitedly about all the new penguin facts they’ve learned. 

“Can we go to the petting zoo next?” Trixie asks, seemingly oblivious to your lingering embarrassment at nearly being caught.

Awkwardly, you clear your throat. At your side, Jungkook is faring no better, shuffling his feet and refusing to make eye contact. “Yeah, sure, bug,” you finally manage when you find your voice again. “Lead the way.”

///

Monday dawns cloudy and gray. The weather app on your phone promises thunderstorms later in the afternoon, but that isn’t enough to dampen your mood one bit. Instead, you thumb back over to your messages, your heart skipping a beat when you see the text still sitting at the very top.

[6:54am] Jungkook Jeon: Make sure to stop by bean there, done that before school. Left you a surprise ;) 

Taking a deep breath, you type out a response:

[6:56am] You: I’m a little scared. Should I be scared?

His answer comes in immediately. Nah. It’s a good surprise, I promise.

[6:58am] You: Sure it is… 🤨

Biting back a grin, you tuck your phone into your bag and head toward the front door of your apartment, nearly tripping over Taco along the way, who has chosen that moment to start slinking between your legs. 

“Really, Taco?” you ask the unperturbed calico cat at your feet. “What if I fell and cracked my head open? Who would feed you then, huh?”

As usual, Taco merely gives you an unimpressed look before flicking her tail and wandering off. Sighing, you call for Trixie to hurry up before turning to check your appearance in the mirror leaning against the wall of the entryway. It’s a large, vintage piece—a gold-framed, flea market find that you treasure dearly and swear makes you look good no matter how awful you might feel.

Satisfied, you hike your bag higher on your shoulder and smooth down the lapels of your coat. Trixie rounds the corner and gives herself a quick once-over too, and you give her a thumbs-up. “Ready, bug?”

“Yup!” she replies, tightening her grip on her and Daeun’s project—a carefully constructed shoebox diorama that shows a group of penguins in their natural icy habitat. 

“Let’s go, then.” Opening the front door, you let her through before locking it up behind you. Together, you head out to the car, and Trixie ensures that her diorama is completely secured in the seat beside her while you check your mirrors and turn on the ignition.

The drive to Bean There, Done That! takes only about ten minutes. Jin waves cheerily when he spots you walking up to the counter, but his face positively lights up when he sees Trixie is with you. He absolutely adores your daughter—Trixie loves him too—and on the occasional instance you’ve had to call on him to babysit, the two of them always end up stuffed with food on the couch and giggling over bad puns.

“What can I get you, ma’am?” Jin asks, directing the question at Trixie, who beams at him before turning to look at you with pleading eyes.

“Can I have a double chocolate cookie?”

“That… actually sounds really good,” you admit. “Make that two. And Jin, did someone leave something here for me earlier?”

Jin grins. “Thought you’d never ask. This here is from one Mr. Jungkook Jeon.” Reaching beneath the counter, he pulls out a box and watches as you open the lid to reveal half a dozen cinnamon streusel bagels with a neatly folded napkin on top. Unfolding it, you can only laugh at the words written on it:

Hope you have a mug-nificient day!

“Just so you know, he stole that line from me,” Jin says with a sniff. “I’m not letting him take the credit.”

“Duly noted,” you tell him, trying and failing to hide your smile as you look down at the note again. After a couple beats, Jin clears his throat, and you glance up to see that he’s grinning like the Cheshire Cat. 

“Sooo,” he begins slowly, dragging out the single syllable, “I imagine you want a fresh napkin and a pen, unless… are you going to see Mr. Jungkook Jeon at some point?”

You shrug, feigning nonchalance as best you can. “Trixie was paired with his daughter for a school project, so we’ve been meeting up for the past few weeks so they can work on it. Now that that’s over with… I don’t really know. We’re both pretty busy.”

Jin scoffs. “That’s a lame excuse, especially since he’s clearly flirting with you. And—”

Unfortunately, Trixie interrupts before he can finish his sentence, skipping back over from where she had been examining the pastry display cases along the wall. “Can I have a lemon bar?”

You fix her with a stern look. “You already asked for the double chocolate cookie, remember? The lemon bars can wait until next time.” Then you turn back to Jin, reaching into your bag for your wallet. “We should probably get to school, anyhow. What do I owe you?”

“Not a thing,” he replies, handing over a paper bag with your cookies and a bottle of apple juice. “It’s already been taken care of.”

From the wink he sends your way, you know that it must have been Jungkook who doled out the extra cash for your breakfast. “Thanks, Jin,” you reply, handing Trixie the cookies and juice before accepting the cup of coffee he hands over. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Pleasure doing business with ya,” is his response. Trixie waves goodbye, and together, the two of you head back out to the car. It’s started drizzling since you arrived, and you thank your lucky stars that you’d managed to snag a parking spot right up front.

Your daughter seems to be deep in thought as you help her buckle her seatbelt, her lips pursed in concentration. Then, out of nowhere, she asks:

“Do you like Mr. Jeon?”

You nearly choke. “W-what?”

“Mr. Jeon,” she repeats patiently, and you’re thankful that she’s not looking at you—instead, she’s focused on the raindrops splashing against the window and racing each other down the glass. “You spent a bunch of time with him when Daeun and I were doing school stuff. What’d you do?”

“Adult stuff,” you reply, before cursing inwardly at the potential implication behind your words. “Mostly, I spent my time grading homework. And he had some things to do for work, too.”

Trixie hums, apparently satisfied with this answer. “He’s nice,” she declares. “He buys us food and he has a cool house.”

“Sure,” you agree. “He’s a very nice man.”

And with that settled, you finish buckling her in her seat. Shutting the back door, you suck in a deep, calming breath before circling around to the driver’s side and setting off on the familiar route to Hybe Academy.

///

“... Miss {L/N}, are you listening?”

You blink and sit up a little straighter in your chair. “Yes, of course. Please go on.” Hastily, you scribble down a few random words, hoping that will placate the parent sitting across from you. It’s parent-teacher conference week—and you’re beyond grateful that it’s Friday night as Mrs. Greene rambles on and on about how the school isn’t doing enough for her precious baby boy. She’s talking about how the school day should be extended now—or at least how teachers should watch after the children whose parents can’t pick them up right at three-thirty. I don’t understand why it’s so difficult to understand. I mean, my husband is a very busy man, and I have my own business to run. I can’t be expected to drop everything in the middle of a client meeting to come pick Derrick up…

It takes everything in you not to snap at her. You know for a fact that her “business” is selling bejeweled keychains on Etsy—and that they’re incredibly poorly made, if the reviews are anything to go by. Instead, you bite your tongue—hard enough to taste metal—and remind her that the school’s operating hours are not for you to decide. 

After what feels like an eternity, the clock strikes seven, marking the end of her reserved time block. Standing up, you shake her hand and wish her a pleasant evening before opening your planner and checking to see if you have any more meetings. Your parents have Trixie for the night and there’s a bottle of wine on your kitchen counter calling your name, and you cannot wait to get home and relax in the bath with a glass. Maybe, you think, I’ll even do a face mask.

The final name written in your planner stops you in your tracks. You haven’t seen him in over a week—not since that Monday when he left you half a dozen bagels at the coffee shop. The girls had insisted on meeting up that evening to celebrate turning their project in, so you’d all gone to a popular taco joint. 

And then there’s a knock on your door, the three raps pulling you right out of your musings.

Silhouetted there in the doorframe is Jungkook Jeon, decked out in a polished charcoal suit and wearing a smile that makes your insides lurch dangerously in your chest. His dark hair is parted on the side, and you catch the slightest glimpse of his brow piercing glinting behind the hair that’s loose across his forehead. “Hi,” he says, his voice low, and you have to remind yourself that it’s impolite to stare as you find your voice.

“Hi yourself.”

He grins, baring the adorably prominent front teeth that you hate to admit you’ve grown rather fond of. “You look like you weren’t expecting me.”

“Oh, no. I just wasn’t expecting you on time,” you retort, gesturing to the plastic chair sitting across from your desk. “Your track record is questionable, at best.”

Jungkook grimaces. “Yeah, sorry about that. I made sure to leave plenty early this time, just in case I ran into traffic. Or if Bobby decided to corner me in the elevator again—that guy really doesn’t know when to shut up.” He pauses. “Wait, I told you about him, right? Works on the development team, owns one singular tie? Balding but tries to hide it with a bad combover?”

“That rings a bell,” you reply. “The tie is red and Christmas-themed, right?”

“Sure is.” Jungkook chuckles. “I thought they might’ve been polka dots the first time I met him, but nope. Christmas ornaments, even in the middle of July.”

You laugh. “Odd fashion choice.”

“Seriously. Don’t even get me started on the rest of his clothes,” Jungkook says, shaking his head. “Here, let’s change the subject. Have you eaten yet?”

You gesture around your classroom, artificially lit with fluorescent light even as the sun begins to dip closer to the horizon. “Nope. I mean, I had about twenty minutes between the end of the school day and the start of my first meeting, so I scarfed down an apple in the break room. But that was hours ago.”

“Perfect.” At your look of disbelief, he chortles and quickly amends his phrasing. “Sorry, I just mean that I’ve got you covered. Here, look.” And he begins pulling things out of a paper bag that you hadn’t noticed him carrying before. Crackers, sliced baguette, an assortment of cured meats and cheeses, grapes. He produces a bottle of wine next, and you very nearly start clapping. 

The last thing he pulls out is a single red rose, his smile soft and warm and dizzyingly affectionate as he presents it to you. “I—wow.” You aren’t sure what to say. “Thank you. I… I feel like I should’ve prepared something. Stolen an apple for you from the teacher’s lounge, at least.”

Jungkook snorts. “Well, here’s something you can help me out with. I don’t actually have glasses for the wine. Totally spaced and forgot that we’d need them. Any ideas?”

You’re on your feet before he can even finish asking. “I teach elementary schoolers, Mr. Jeon. I always have cups.” 

Making your way to the cabinet by the window, you grab a box of little paper cups and pull out two. Jungkook accepts them when you hand them over, and you watch as he unscrews the cap on the wine bottle before pouring out two generous helpings. Together, you lay out the food he’s brought, spreading it across whatever empty space there is on your desk. “Cheers,” Jungkook says once you’ve both taken your seats again, raising his paper cup to tap against yours.

“Cheers.”

For a moment, there is silence as you both take a drink. Then Jungkook speaks, glancing up at you as he carefully begins crafting himself a mini salami and cheese sandwich. “So, where does Trixie stay while you’re doing all these meetings? Do your parents have her?”

You nod, taking another much-needed sip of wine. “Yeah, my mom picked her up after school. They actually have her until Sunday—my dad’s going to teach her how to fish tomorrow, and then I think they’re going to build a pillow fort.”

Jungkook chuckles around a mouthful of gouda. “I love a good pillow fort. Dae insists on building one at least once a week, and at this point, I’m honestly surprised there isn’t one permanently in her bedroom.”

Grinning, you reach for a cracker and some cheese. “Taco manages to destroy every pillow fort Trixie and I try to make. She either decides it’s a trampoline, or that it’s a good time to start scratching everything she can reach. We can’t win.”

“Sounds like you need better defenses,” Jungkook replies, waggling his eyebrows. “That, or you can come over whenever you need a pillow fort fix. I’m sure Dae and Trixie would create something truly epic together. I mean, that penguin diorama was pretty fucking cool, wasn’t it?”

“Very fucking cool,” you agree, and both of you burst into laughter.

Deep blue twilight settles outside as the two of you continue chatting over your makeshift meal. The cheese begins to dwindle, only a few lonely grapes remain on their stems, and when you go to top of your wine, you realize there’s less than a quarter of the bottle left. 

“Wow, we really put a dent in this thing,” you remark, holding it out for Jungkook to see. “And it’s already dark out. The time kind of got away from us, huh?”

“You won’t catch me complaining,” Jungkook replies, tipping the last of his drink into his mouth. “I’m enjoying spending time with you.”

You can’t help but smile at his earnest honesty. “Me too.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then you rise from your seat. At the same time, Jungkook stands up from his chair on the other side of the desk, making his way around to meet you halfway. And then his mouth is on yours, warm and firm in a way that makes your heart do a backflip before plunking straight into your churning stomach.

Jungkook’s hands find your hips, palming along the flowy material of your dress before finding a resting place just above the soft curve of your rear. Your fingers delve into the soft hair at his nape to tug him closer, and he groans against your lips when your nails rake across his scalp. Slowly, he begins trailing kisses from the line of your jaw down to the column of your neck, pausing to lavish attention on any spots that make you gasp or squirm in his grasp.

The growing hardness against your lower belly is growing more and more evident with each passing second. Deliberately, you slide one hand down his chest, admiring the toned ridges of his abdomen that you can feel through his white shirt, before making your way down past his silver belt buckle. Jungkook inhales sharply when you cup his hardening cock through the charcoal material of his slacks, and, emboldened, you thumb across the head and relish in his resulting groan.

Any caution you may have had is thrown to the wind. Adjusting your grip, you shiver when you realize that he’s now fully hard beneath your fingertips, his erection thick and hot through the fabric. You try and visualize what it looks like underneath it all—the color of the flared head, the veins that run along it, the curve of the shaft, if there is one. And then you realize that you don’t have to imagine—you can look. You can rip his clothes off and explore every inch of his body in the way you’ve been itching to since you first kissed at the zoo last week. Your hands scrabble for his belt buckle, fumbling with the silver prong embedded in its notch.

“W-wait.” Jungkook’s hand lands over yours, and you note the breathlessness in his voice with satisfaction. “I… this is probably cheesy, but this isn’t how I pictured this happening. Not that I don’t like what’s happening, but I just… I’d like to take you out first. On a proper date, I mean. Without our girls in the next room, or down the hall, or in the museum playplace wreaking havoc.”

“That does sound nice,” you admit. “Actually, I’d really enjoy that. I haven’t been on a proper date in years.”

“Let’s do it, then,” Jungkook says. “My babysitter’s already been paid to watch Daeun until midnight, and your parents have Trixie. This is kinda perfect.”

You can’t help it—you drag your thumb across the head of his still-hard cock again and revel in the way his breath hitches just a little bit in his throat. “Midnight?” you query with an innocent tilt of your head. “Were you expecting something to happen tonight?”

“Hoping,” he replies with a cheeky grin. “And wait, let me ask you out properly. It just wouldn’t feel right otherwise.”

Confused, you let him stand from his seat and slip around you to retrieve the paper bag on the ground. Understanding dawns when he reaches inside and grabs a napkin, and you watch on in amusement as he takes a pen from the cup on your desk and begins writing. And after a few seconds, he wordlessly presents this to you:

Drinks? Dinner? Maybe dessert? ;)

And you can only laugh. “Game on, mister.”

[unholyhelbig]

I just want to say I'm already hooked on the beast you made me. I can't wait for the next chapter!

Center picture Cred: Jadiakallisti

Title: The Beast You've Made of Me [Part 2/7]

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff x Wanda Maximoff

Wordcount: 5151

Summary: When reader wakes up in her own grave, she's suddenly aware of a past that spans lifetimes, but she's not the only one. Two Avengers are tasked with keeping readers past a secret, or at the very least, controlled.

Warnings: Blood, fatal injuries, animal bones, mentions of death, containment, and horrible grammar because I don't proofread

[a/n: Thank you all for the overwelming support on the first chapter! I truly didn't expect that much reception. I'm going to be traveling for the next week so the next chapter might be delayed a bit]

[ Part one | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven ]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

1917, Rural Pennsylvania

A sweeping river cut through the patch of sweetgrass on the south side of the farm. It emitted a gurgling sound that often soothed your nerves. There was a rocky clearing sandwiched between the tree line and the plain of grass that had become a perfect spot for you to settle in and read the hard-covered books you’d gotten from the corner store.

Your father would bring back any book you requested from the city during his travels. You devoured them faster than he could provide them and had read ‘Eight Cousins’ ,Lousia May Alcott’s foray into the adventures thirteen-year-old Rose, enough to nearly tear the pages from the binding.

The book itself held the clean honeyed scent of the earth, of the secluded spot that you called your own. Your muscles would thrum from loading the bales of hay into your fathers ford. Your fingers were calloused, and dirt caked around your ankle in a dark ring. All of that vanished when you cracked open the book about a girl that was so much like yourself.

It was easy to lose yourself in the paragraphs, the hum of the river sometimes lulling you to sleep. Your mother would pack you a sandwich on warm, hand-kneaded bread, usually some salted meat and mayonnaise. She’d pack sweet tea and send you on your way, knowing that you wouldn’t return to the house until you saw a flicker of a firefly.

Today, you’d fallen asleep under the sun. The book was discarded, and your forearm draped across your eyes. It was easy to drift, and easier still to dream about leaving the small dairy farm for something bigger- the very city that your father would return from with new literature and arts, and spices that made your mouth buzz with flavor.

You were in a haze when the ear-piercing scream cut through the air as if it were a natural solid. Your ears pinched at the sound, heels digging into the coarse sandy shore. Maybe it was a dream. It could have been an animal that had sunk its pointed teeth into the artery of another.

So, you waited, panting with your heart in your chest and the corner of the book barely lapped by the muddied water. And there was this sound. It was no fox caught in a trap or bovine tangled up in the barbed wire fence around the property- no, this was familiar. This was your sister.

Helena was quiet, often described as demure and borderline submissive. Despite being younger than yourself she carried a certain poise about her. Mother would often boast about how she would have no trouble finding a husband, how the boys already fawned over the child of hers that was not feral and unkempt.

Her cry was the loudest you had ever heard her and it had you on your feet, scrambling up the bank. Once past your small world of wonder, you were greeted with an endless sea of sweetgrass that was waist high in some areas.

A warm breeze created waves against the landscape, the farmhouse a small speck among the expanse of land. Your head was spinning, it was hard to track exactly where it had come from. It took another cracking screech to set you North.

Your legs pumped until you were consumed in a blind speed. You’d been renowned for your quickness, for your dedication to get from point A to point B. The kids in your town often joked that you were steadier than a steed. Not only were you the fastest in the class, but the fastest in the county according to some. Still- only a child of fifteen, and no man would want to wed someone with speed. It wasn’t a practical skill.

There was a pit deep in your stomach whirled, instinct knowing precisely where Helena was yowling from.

Jorge had gotten there at the same time you did; his brow was leaking with sweat and he panted against the hot air that surrounded you both. Your older brother was tall and lanky, serpent-like with beady black eyes and pitch hair to match your father’s. His shirt hung low against his midsection, his skin pale despite his hours in the sun working the fields.

“Stay back, y/n.” He demanded sharply.

The old well was a mere foot in front of you both but neither made the effort to move forward. The aged wooden plank that covered the stone shaft had been splintered through the middle, worn from age and weather.

Helena’s soft cries echoed up. When your father had first acquired the property, the previous owners explained that it had been boarded up after of the bulls had fallen down and snapped it’s neck. It was too large to pull out and they left it to starve and then rot.

Your father never let any of his children peer down into the well. You wondered if something had pulled Helena here, or if she had simply forgotten of it’s existence. Jorge dropped down to his knees and did a cautious crawl as if his own two feet couldn’t’ hold him anymore.

You saw the exact moment his skin became waxier, almost a gray porcelain paleness that had a green tint. He was swallowing too much, his white shirt coated in the red clay dirt.

“What?” You asked, voice breaking “What is it?”

“Go get Mama.”

It would have been easy to listen to your brother. He was the man of the house when your father wasn’t there but with him pleading for your mother, for an adult, you got a rancid taste in your mouth.

Against your better judgement you edged close enough to the abandoned well. The sun was setting in a fire-filled orange haze with enough color and angle to get a good view of the bottom; a slosh of fallen grass and rainwater, and muck, and yes; the bones of a beast once left to decay and rot in its own silence.

Your sister was wedged within the ribcage of the befallen bull, almost as if she replaced the beating heart that stopped pulsing long ago. Her hands gripped at the sun-bleached bone, knuckles nearly the same color.

It took you a moment to make out the slick, and the red that stemmed from the center of her stomach. The head of the bull had shattered under her weight, all expect the stretching length of it’s curved horn. That was wedged through her abdomen, surrounded in a vibrant rose red that puddled and had already coated her hands.

Prints from her struggle were against the limestone edges of the well. Her eyes pleaded up at you; your kind and caring, and animal-loving sister was trapped inside the remains of one. You fought back the urge to vomit, the rash thought that if the bone ripping through her flesh didn’t kill her, then infection would.

“Y/n get mama!” Jorge hissed again, and this time you didn’t hesitate. You nearly tripped over your own boots with the fever it took to back away from the scene, the metallic scent of blood mixing deliciously with the turn of rotted soil.

You had never run so fast in your life.

Wanda Maximoff had never felt the cold that wormed its way to her bones before. It was the type of cold that almost wasn’t, a stinging, horrible feeling that had her startled from the folded metal chair. It collapsed within itself as the blinked the wine-dark color from her eyes.

She stumbled backward, only to be brought back to the starkness of the room by a soft grip on her elbow. Wanda allowed herself to be held, if not for stability but for comfort. Steve Rodgers had a welcoming hand on the small of her back, the other steadying her.

He was a solid force, and her reaction stirred him.

“Fuck,” the expletive fell from her lips, “Jesus Christ.”

There was quietness to the room in the aftershock of the fallen chair. It was nicer than a standard holding cell. The walls were cream colored, triple enforced to keep people like you inside. There was a bed bolted to the wall, a bunk that was almost like a summer camp endeavor.

A charged glass wall was blocking you from the rest of the world. It was seemingly unbreakable, and in this moment, so were you. Wanda didn’t want to test the glass, nor did she know how to make sense of the memories- your memories- that had flooded every inch of her body.

You were asleep, chest rising and falling at a normal pace, as if none of what Wanda had just seen was flitting around your mind. Soft snores pushed past your lips, one arm hanging over the side of the bed while the other followed the flow of your breathing as it rested on your chest.

Wanda didn’t understand the secrecy and the precaution that surrounded you. The Avengers compound was a constant ebb and flow of different heroes, Inhumans and mutants. What made you so different? What made you an 0-8-4?

It was a term that Natasha had used only once that was usually attached to objects, not a person. It was an object of unknown origin and in that case, it was a power-filled object from space. Space. She’d been through different dimensions, but that, for some reason, struck her as terrifying.

0-8-4’s were never brought here, but then again, they’d never been alive either. Steve had told her that your energy signal was off the charts, and that they wanted her to dig around your head. Something that she denied doing at first. It was an invasion of privacy.

But, there was a certain pleading within Captain America’s eyes that scared Wanda more than the personal rules she set for herself when it came to her power. What she had seen, what she had felt was barely scraping the surface of what your mind contained. She wasn’t keen on pushing past that barrier for the conclusion of that story. Was it even yours?

“What? Wanda, what is it?”

“I… I don’t” She shook her head, eyes hardening as she stared into Steve’s “Where did you find her?”

He hesitated to answer, his eyebrows furrowing before he looked away from the witches’ prying eyes. She’d been part of this team for years now and they were still reluctant with what they were willing to share. Wanda clenched her jaw, then unclenched it before her stare flashed back to your resting form.

There was a small frown that creased your features. You looked so… harmless. You had shifted, folded into yourself as if you were scratching the surface of what flashed before her. Your arm was folded under your head, knees flush to your chest. A small, beautiful whimper escaped you.

“She’s in distress, Steve.”

“Discomfort, more like. It’s better for all of us that she stays in there for right now. The last thing we want to do is harm anyone but if that requires some temporary-“

“Imprisonment?”

“Containment.” He said firmly, eyes hard. Wanda crossed her arms over her chest but stayed silent, letting him continue. She was sure she wouldn’t have been asked if not for her ability to worm her way into minds, to rearrange things. “What did you see?”

“A memory, one that can’t possibly be hers. The timeline doesn’t fit, this is a woman in her mid-twenties and who I saw was barely a teenager on a farmstead. To experience that much tragedy, that much fear and heartache.”

She started to pace, trying to not only work through her own thoughts, but yours as well. It could have been a story, and she was convinced of the fact save for the vividness. There was the feeling of grass tickling her arms and the sharp, undeniable stench of blood.

“Her younger sister died, fell through some rotted wood and fell to her death.” Wanda’s fingers pressed against the edge of her hairline. “She could have lived, but I have my doubts.”

He lifted a perfectly sculpted brow at her. His expression betrayed his compassion towards you, his stance uncomfortable with the topic. While the revelation was heartbreaking it hardly made you extraordinary. They’d all lost people, none had stirred Wanda as you did.

Wanda’s stare found his after darting to you once more, “Steve, I have the sinking feeling that what I saw was only scratching the surface. There are hundreds, maybe thousands, of memories that were pressing in on all sides.”

The sensation of being observed is what pulled you from your fitful sleep. Exhaustion had washed over you like a tidal wave, all at once and leaving your mouth dry like a spoonful of salt. There was a stiffness that rivaled that of the grave you’d crawled out of, and you hoped that it was all a dream.

You were in your bed, in your apartment, after having one too many drinks. It was a horrible stretching nightmare that had plunged you into one sea of darkness from another. But even you weren’t that naïve.

Just as you felt a stranger’s eyes on you now, you had felt the dirt under your nails, the cold sodium-filled takeout as you attempted to chew it. More than anything, you remembered the burning feeling of the Black Widow pressed fully against your back, bending you over Jenn’s kitchen counter.  

“I would prefer if you kept the feeling of my wife’s body against yours out of your mind.”

You shot up with a dizzying amount of quickness, heart suddenly in your chest. There was an imbalance to the bed that you were laying on. It was smaller than your own and unfamiliar. The room was stark white. It hurt your eyes and you had to blink the color away. You pressed the heels of your palms close to your eyes.

It felt as if you were locked in a glass shower with an audience and stage lights. The more you looked, the more you realized it was a room, something with no personal effects but a bed and a dimmer switch that you itched to utilize.

A pitcher of water was on an end table. It wasn’t color exactly, but it was more than the rest of your surroundings. Possibly with the worst manners you’d ever exhibited, you drank straight from the pitcher, not remembering the last time you had a drink. Suddenly, you were parched enough to soak your collar.

Despite your audience, you continued until you felt your stomach protest. You used the back of your hand to wipe away the moisture, black dirt was smeared across your skin. It was then, and only then, that you forced yourself to look past the walls of your prison, your enclosure.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” The woman said, walking close to the glass. You could see her clearly now, there was an heir of recognition about her, in the same way that there had been with the Black Widow.

“You were in my head.”

“For a while. It’s my job. But your thoughts are also deafening.”

“Sorry,”

This woman was intoxicating. Alluring and beautiful in her presence. Her hair was tied up in a messy bun, a pair of sweatpants and t-shirt hugging her form. You weren’t positive what time it was- what day it was- but it could be late into the night. She looked like she was roused from sleep, and a part of you felt guilty for the fact.

“Don’t apologize, sweetie.” Her voice was much more tender than it had been a few moments ago. “You can’t control being brought back from the dead. A lot of trauma comes with that.”

You stood shakily and walked closer to the glass. They’d taken your shoes and the tile under your feet was frigid. You crossed your arms over your chest and shivered into yourself. You didn’t want to think about the fact that they had undressed you, probably taken your clothes for testing. Instead they left you in a blue set of scrubs.

You averted your stare from your own reflection, not willing or ready to look too hard. You’d much rather look at this stranger, your heart not slowing, your head pounding. Nothing but a simple pane of glass separated you.

“And I was brought back from the dead, wasn’t I? That wasn’t a fucked-up dream where I got hit by a car and then poof God, if there is one, decided that me of all people was worth bringing back.”

She lilted her head, quirked an amusing brow at you. A chill flushed down your spine and seemed to fizzle out at your toes. This woman was gorgeous and terrifying and made you want to squirm. But if this was prison, you had to assert dominance. Right? That’s what Wentworth taught you.

This cell didn’t look or feel like Wentworth, and this Warden had an amused smile tacked to her lips like she had heard your every thought. And she had. At least you assumed that she did. She’d mentioned her wife earlier, and the woman’s body against your own was plaguing you like a runaway freight train.

When she didn’t say anything, you clawed to fill the silence “I want to talk to Bruce.”

“Bruce? Honey, he’s off world.”

“Off… world.” You laughed, softly at first but then almost manically, tears forming in your eyes that you wiped away with your cold fingers. “No, no, that’s really cool. I worked a 9-5 and now I can’t talk to Bruce because he’s in Outer Space.”

“Maybe not outer space, maybe another dimension.”

You leveled her with a humorless glare. She had both of her hands up as if she wanted to comfort you, or the caged animal you had become. You had to give her credit, she seemed just as horrified as you were. She offered up a dim, faltering smile.

There wasn’t a way for you to process this in a gentle manner, there was no one to guide you through it other than Jenn. She’d done this before, lived a whole life that was flipped upside-down and she’d come out on the other side. It was the uncertainty that scared the hell out of you.

“You were in my head earlier,” You stopped suddenly, pressing your fingers against the glass. The woman didn’t flinch. Your frantic breath fogged with each exhalation. “Do you know why I came back?”

She shook her head, “No. Do you remember what you were dreaming about?”

“No.” A weak chuckle, you let your hands drop. “At least we’re on the same page.”

The nurse they allowed to enter through the side of the containment unit took cautious steps towards you that made your chest ache. All your life, people had said how welcoming and kind you were; how they were never afraid to come to you with their worries. It had bothered you before the incident, before your death, but now you missed seeing the stare of those who didn’t harbor any fear.

She was small, a mouse of a thing that had pale blonde hair and startling blue eyes. Her name tag read Julia. Your mind rushed with the paths she’d taken to this place. She must be interning here, much too young to hold a classification herself.

Your finger twitched on your knee, palm sweaty. It’s heat radiated through the thin blue fabric of the pants they’d provided you with. You hated needles, always had. But, you struggled to stay still and the effect that had on poor nurse Julia was making you fidget more.

There was a scent about her. It was under the layers of hairspray, nail polish, and shea butter. It was a sweet metal that made your stomach swirl. Was it her sweat? You’d never smelt anything past walking by the bomb that was the boys locker room, and it certainly had never been this tantalizing before.

Your eyes met hers, crystal blue and uncertain. “You’ll just feel a little pinch”

This is when you pulled your gaze back and instead focused on the cream colored walls. There was no problem with needles, you’d dutifully sit for your flu shots, but something about the sharp edge pushing through a layer of skin and fat before hitting your vein made you nauseous.

“We just need enough to run a few tests.” Julia soothed.

She was a normal nurse in that one, small way. Your mind was itching, blood seeming to congeal. It refused to cooperate and her burning touch was all but dominant against your skin. You both waited for the small tube to fill with black liquid. 

Finally, you felt her press the gauze against the crook of your arm and withdraw the needle. Another small pinch and then a massive relief. Her smell hung around you and filled the room. There was an undeniable urge to sink your teeth into her. To taste her.

You’d stopped the elevator just hours before to assess your penchant for brain consumption, but this wasn’t that. This was an intoxicating pull. This was animalistic, the same rush of emotion that had flooded you without prompting during your earlier conversation.

Julia squeezed your shoulder calmly, not entirely over her own reservations, but on the penance that she was a nurse and this was her job. You kept yourself rooted to the bed, fingers digging into the wood. She left the room and you could hear the compressed lock reseal you inside, breathing a sigh of relief.

That sweet odor lingered, and your reaction to it scared you more than anything. The wood beneath your fingertips splintered, and suddenly that anger, that fear, rolled away to shock. That wasn’t… normal. None of this was normal, but you weren’t exactly picked first in sports either.

You were a middle kid, a I guess I wouldn’t mind having you on my team kid. Suddenly your fingers were cutting through wood like it was butter. You let out an indignant squeak and shifted the blanket until the slashes were covered.

“Is everything alright?”

Wanda, you had learned that her name was Wanda, occupied her usual spot in front of the window. A slick sweat covered your forehead. She was holding a small tray that had a steaming bowl of soup and a delicious hunk of French bread.

“I figured you were hungry,” She lifted her chin towards the panel next to your door. “May I?”

“I’m at your mercy.”

And you were, truly. You hadn’t seen anyone but her since you’d woken up. There were shadows of others, people that made the pit in the center of your stomach grow three sizes. You knew exactly what they were doing, you watched enough true crime with Jennifer to know.

Here was this beautiful and powerful woman offering you food and words of comfort, and you allowed yourself to fall for all of it. Listlessly. Because what did you have to lose? You’d already died, and the thought of putting your family through the heartache of resurrection and then possibly enough committal to the ground was too much.

So, let her Stockholm syndrome you. The food smelled divine.

Wanda didn’t hold the same fear that Julia had. In fact, once the compression of air signified that it was okay for her to enter, she did so without hesitation. She set the food down on the equally dull side table and lowered herself onto the corner of the bed, making herself at home.

She’d changed into a pair of jeans, a simple t-shirt that had the outline of SHIELD on its sleeve. You frowned, for a company that does everything in its power to keep itself hidden, they sure loved that stupid bird so much.

“Go on, sweetie. You can eat.”

Wanda had a command about her that made you fold and listen despite any reservations. You took up a spot on the far end of the bed and shoveled the first spoonful into your mouth. An explosion of heady flavors coated your tongue, coaxing a low moan from your lips.

Blush rushed to your cheeks at the spark in the set of stormy eyes that watched you like a hawk. You rushed to break the tension. “So, what’s the plan here? Run a bunch of tests and keep me locked up?”

“Somewhat.” She paused, carefully thinking of her next words. “Y/n, I have the ability to get inside the psyche. Not only can I read every thought, every action, but I can control them too. It’s not something I like to do, nor something I want to. Not without permission.”

You frowned again. You certainly hadn’t given her permission to enter your mind before, and she tensed at the realization. But, you took another bite of soup and swallowed down the spiced broth. What’s done was done. You didn’t expect her to ask, much less admit to her wrongdoing.

“I prefer to ask. Can you tell me what you do for work?”

“Paralegal, the bar seemed like too much stress. But I’m good at my job. I was good at my job before a car turned me into sidewalk art.”

“Right, and your family, what about them?”

There was no desire to think of them and their perfect lives that you’d shattered with your death. Your mother used to sit in the tepid air on the porch swing, downing a glass of wine before she turned to you with tears in her eyes. She’d urge you to be careful working in the city. She’d plead for you to come home. More than anything, she’d utter the phrase a mother should never outlive her daughter.

“My mother is a seventh grade biology teacher and my father runs a painting business that’s been operating my whole life. They’re not very exciting people. They must be worried sick about me.”

Wanda nodded, “Any siblings?”

“Not anymore.”

She stilled at your words and didn’t pry. You were well aware of the fact that she could push through your deflections and learn the information that she wanted to know. But, you respected that she didn’t. Instead, she stared at you, and you stared right back, suddenly not hungry.

Wanda was someone that you felt the need to open-up to. Unlike the brief encounter you had had with her wife. Not that you let that word stick with you, not in the same way that her touch did. Again, you had to push the thoughts to the back of your mind, even if Wanda wasn’t prying.

Instead, she placed a warm hand on your thigh, sending a wave of shivers through your body. You suppressed a whimper at the sudden contact.

“I had a brother named Pietro. He was fast, unnaturally so. Neither of us ever wanted to be heroes, we didn’t think about the future like that. So, when the Avengers, these so-called saviors of the world, recruited us, we knew about the dangers. But it still shocked me when he died. He was my brother. He wasn’t supposed to be fragile like that.”

You stared at her with an amount of tenderness in your eyes that she wasn’t used to from the others. They cared, sure, but in the way that a co-worker would care enough to purchase cut flowers and a ‘sorry for your loss’ card. You were different.

“They’re our protectors.” You swallowed hard, mouth dry “when something drastic happens, it doesn’t seem real.”

“It still doesn’t.”

There was a lapse of silence that pushed memories in your direction. The burning cold weather on the day your own brother had died. You remember the scream that died in your throat and the way you’d knelt in the cracked snow until you couldn’t’ feel your legs or your fingers. It took an EMT with a heated blanket and a horror story about hypothermia to pull you to your feet.

“Jonathan.” You whispered.

She let out a questioning hum, pulling her feet from the floor and making herself more comfortable on the less-than-comfortable bed. “Your brother?”

“My older brother. I followed him around like a lost puppy, but he never complained. He was a hockey player and a damn good one too. He’d use the lake behind our house in Jersey to practice and one winter the ice broke underneath him. He drowned, and I was too weak to save him.”

Wanda let out a shuddered breath. You couldn’t read her facial expression. It was a mix of confusion, or sadness, but not pity and that was something you appreciated. You’d had enough pity, just as your family had enough grief without you adding to it.

She opened her mouth to reply, but both of you were startled when three quick knocks shattered the silence. The Black Widow, Natasha Romanoff, stood on the other side. She showed no interest in breeching the containment unit. Instead, she leveled her wife with a dark stare and held up a folded piece of paper.

“Excuse me,” Wanda whispered, giving your leg a settling squeeze.

She left the plate and exited the holding cell. Her words were muffled, but those unripe green eyes that Natasha possessed kept flicking to you nervously. She too, didn’t’ show pity. It was interest and if you were being honest, you thought you saw the smallest spark of fear.

Wanda took the paper from her wife, squinted at something you couldn’t’ see. You felt like you were at a parent teacher conference, just out of bounds of hearing but you could see their body language; the way that Natasha itched to move closer to Wanda, the fingers that the taller woman pressed to her lips, thumb creasing the paper.

Finally, Wanda turned back towards the glass. Natasha met your stare without issue, hitting the intercom on the other side of the cell. It was her who spoke, her raspy voice falling from the speaker.

“In the spirit of transparency, we want to be honest with you about your blood results.”

You stood from the bed, moving to one side of the barrier. They were intimidating like that, standing shoulder to shoulder with a natural beauty. It made you want to shrink. If not for the paper in their hands you would have curled into yourself at the sight.

“Don’t tell me I’m dying.”

“No, honey.” Wanda shook her head, “Quite the opposite, you’re getting stronger.”

“I don’t understand.”

Natasha lifted an eyebrow and pressed the paper against the glass so you could read it. None of it made sense, it was lines of DNA that looked like musical notes. You shook your head, giving her a confused look.

Natasha scoffed, peeling the paper from the surface of glass. Wanda bit her thumbnail nervously. “According to these…You’re Asgardian, Kitten.”

[Taglist💕: @dannipotatoo, @non-binary-frogking, @mysticalmoonlight7, @metanoiablxxm, @coxlong, @b3nzzzzz, @simpforlizzie, @delulu-bayolet-era, @dorabledewdroop, @crescentcrush, @roselockwood, @ellieromanov, @leenasayeed, @theowlappears, @pitifulbinx, @pepemyfantasy, @tekanparadiae, @skittlebum, @mariabeloskivismyoc, @natsbiggestfan1, @marvelwomen-simp, @cinffy23, @kyky-maximoff, @natalierushmansstuff, @bstvst, @lezzylover, @404-almostdone, @mishimrno, @maxidentbby, @shayarshucky, @merlinsouls, @neothepotato]

[nurse-floyd]

Off Duty

Pairing: Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd x Reader poly!fic

Warnings: none - pure fluff

Request: “poly jake and bob!! poly jake and bob! poly jake and bob! soft day at the beach with the squad and the boyfs i beg” from my boo @vivwritesfics 💕

A/N: is it short? Yes. Did I make up for it with a cute moodboard and fluff? Yes!

The sun was high in the sky, casting a warm glow over the sandy beach and glistening off the deep blue of the ocean. You and the rest of The Dagger Squad had decided to head to the beach for a much-needed and well-deserved break from the mayhem that was Top Gun. You stood at the edge of the water, the warm water lapping at your feet as you looked out to the ocean, watching as the boats passed by.

You felt someone coming up behind you, their shadow growing larger until a familiar voice called out, breaking you out of your thoughts. “Hey sweetheart, what’re you doing?” Bob’s voice was soft as he wrapped his arms around your middle, his chin coming to rest on your shoulder as he joined you in looking out to the ocean.

“Just enjoying the view…and the company,” you replied as you turned your head to place a gentle kiss on his lips.

Another shadow joined you, his hand snaking between yours and Bob’s body as he sandwiched you between their two bodies. “Speaking of company,” Jake interrupted, “I think we’re the luckiest guys on this beach.”

Bob chuckled, his arms coming to wrap around the pair of you now. “Couldn’t agree more.”

“Come, everyone’s here,” Jake said as he placed a kiss on your cheek before he held out his hands for you and Bob to drag you towards the group of pilots who had gathered a little way up the beach.

The three of you made your way back to the rest of the group who were setting up for a game of beach volleyball. Phoenix and Rooster were already in a heated debate over who was on whose team while Fanboy and Payback worked on securing the net in the sand.

“Finally decided to join us, hey y/n?” she teased as you approached. “Was beginning to think you would rather spend the day with those two.”

“Wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to whoop Rooster’s ass at a game of volleyball,” you replied, sending a wink his way.

The teams were quickly decided, with you, Bob, Hangman, and Phoenix on one side and Rooster, Payback, and Coyote on the other. The game was exactly what you needed after the last few stressful weeks of training. It was full of laughter, playful banter, and quite a few impressive saves, not that you’d tell any of the guys that for fear of not hearing the end of it. Hangman’s competitive streak was in full force, as were the others'.

After a particularly intense rally, it seemed that all was lost until you dove for the ball, sending it back and securing the deciding point for your team. Bob held out a hand for you as he pulled you to your feet with ease, high-fiving you. “Nice save!”

Jake pulled you in for a quick kiss, squeezing your ass. “That’s my girl.”

“Get a room!” Rooster called over the net as the ball came flying past you both.

A new game started and continued until you were all overheated and needed a break. You all collapsed into the sand, passing beers and snacks around. The sun began to set slowly over the horizon, casting the sky with hues of oranges and pinks.

“This is perfect,” you sighed as you leaned back against Bob’s chest. Jake lay close by, his hands intertwined with yours.

“Yeah, it is,” Bob agreed as he placed a kiss on the side of your head.

As the evening wore on, the group lit a bonfire, sharing stories and more laughs as you settled between the two loves of your life. Snuggled between them and surrounded by your friends was where you wished you could stay forever. You couldn’t have asked for a more perfect day as the night drew in and stars dotted the sky as the sound of waves and soft conversation surrounded you.

[rumble-aint-a-rumble-without-me]

Hi :) I was wondering if you could do Poly Dallas and sodapop hcs? with a reader if you're comfortable with it, of course. I think it would be a funny dynamic

This was written in my anatomy class (can you tell that I don’t pay attention in anatomy?) so I’m gonna give @a-person-who-didn’t-want-to-be-here a big huge thank you for helping me out <4

Anyway!

There’s a really complicated getting together story here? I just haven’t figured it out quite yet, so I’m gonna leave that to you guys to think up cause there’s a few ideas swirling around my head, I just haven’t nailed anything down because I’m really not in love with any of my thoughts

But you’ve got the best of both worlds going on for you! A nice golden retriever boyfriend and a boyfriend who’s more of a german shepherd/rottweiler/doberman type-

Life is good!

Both of these boys run warm and they can both be very very handsy, made worse by the fact that they are both very very much in love with you

Jealousy is sort of wonky here? Cause Dally’s very loudly jealous, but Sodapop’s jealousy comes off as him acting more closed-off and withdrawn, he just kinda pulls away when you hang too much with Dallas

Also, before we get any further along, Sandy and Sylvia don’t exist here because I’m in charge and I make the rules :)

Parties! You’re always being dragged out to parties, whether it’s a drag race and you’re on Sodapop’s arm, or a late night party at Buck’s bar where Dally keeps you tucked to his side all night long

You’ve got the whole freaking gang honestly, the whole crew wrapped around your finger-

Dating Dally gets you Johnny in an instant, dating Sodapop gets you Pony, Dare, and Steve- the only one left is Two-Bit but ya know, he’s a good enough guy, he’s probably on your side in all this anyhow-

You’re at the DX a lot, just hanging around the pumps and the garage and the register while Soda’s at work (you definitely skip school to go see him, Dally picks you up and you guys waste the day over at the gas station)

Sodapop sneaking out to meet you and Dally down at Buck’s because there’s a party tonight and honestly he doesn’t care if Darry kills him for being at the Merrill’s establishment, he hasn’t seen you all week long-

Of course of course, you’re wearing Dally’s ring and when you and Sodapop are holding hands, he likes to twist it around your finger and fiddle with it

Dally asks him what he’s doing, asks if Sodapop’s trying to take it off as if he’s got some sort of problem with you wearing somebody else’s ring but Soda just kinda shrugs and says he likes fooling with it

Baby boy’s got no problem other than ADHD and he likes to mess with things 🤷

Patching them up after a rumble is such an obnoxious task- Dally’s whining about broken ribs and how he can barely breath and Soda’s slouched on the floor, holding an ice pack to his face and asking if you’ll still love him if he’s got a black eye

Suggestion? Try and keep them close together in this situation ^^ make them sit near each other, because they both want attention and if you’ve got to run back and forth across the living room every two seconds, no one’s going to be happy-

You spend a lot of time sitting in Dallas’ lap and you spend a lot of time holding Soda’s hand, sometimes these happen at the same time-

Imma say it, you’re not sharing a bed with both of them unless you’re hurt or sick because both of these boys are like portable space heaters and no matter how cold you may be, these human furnaces will make you feel like you’re being slowly cooked because they sandwich you between them

PET NAMES PET NAMES PET NAMES

Doll, baby, honey, sugar, sweetheart, babe….

Just…you’re gonna forget you actually have a name because they never call you by your actual name-

You’re dating two highschool dropouts, how do you feel about that?

Joking, joking, I know you feel wonderful, as you should, because you’re going with two great guys!!

There’s like?

A betting pool going around?

Because no one can figure out who you’re going out with (other than the gang of course)

And Sodapop and Dallas do nothing to help you out- they purposefully make it even worse-

You go to a party with Sodapop, hanging off his arm, and at the end of the night, you’re going home with Dally, spending your night in his room at Buck’s

You’re sitting on the DX counter (you don’t even work there but you have free reign of the place, let’s be real) and you’ve got Dally’s medal around your neck, Dal himself is off in reform and you and Sodapop are planning a date <3

One night, you get caught kissing Dallas, tongues down each others’ throats and all that jazz, and the next thing everyone else knows, you’re walking with Sodapop and he’s got a hand in your pocket

Everyone is town is anxiously awaiting the day that the boys figure out you’re two-timing them because surely, Dallas Winston isn’t going to stand for you messing around on him

But ya know, nothing ever happens, even when people try and get Sodapop and Dallas to see what’s going-

With Soda, they’ll point out Dally and you sitting at a diner booth together, asking him what’s going on, cause weren’t you guys going steady?

And Dal, they’ll ask him where you are when you’re not at Buck’s, mentioning casually that you’ve been hanging out around the DX an awful lot-

With Male!Readers?

You guys are labeled just as good friends all the time and it makes it a lot easier to lie about why you guys are together all the time (curse you time-period realistic homophobia *shakes my fist at the sky*)

I would loveeeeee to do a male!reader piece for this topic, just saying guys-

This….really got away from me-

Sorry for making this so long guys-

[thewidowsghost]

The Sky (Annabeth Chase x Jackson!Reader)

After hearing Annabeth gripe about her father for the last two years, (Y/n) had expected him to have devil horns and fangs. She had not expected him to be wearing an old-fashioned aviator’s cap and goggles. He looks so strange, with his eyes bugging out through the glasses, that she, her brother Percy, Thalia, and Zoe take a step back on the back porch. 

“Hello,” he says in a friendly voice, “Are you delivering my airplanes?”

Thalia, Zoe, Percy, and (Y/n) look at each other warily. 

“Um, no, sir,” Percy says. 

“Drat,” he says. “I need three more Sopwith Camels.”

“Right,” (Y/n) says, though she has no idea what he’s talking about. “We’re, uh, friends,” - not exactly - “of Annabeth’s.”

“Annabeth?” he straightens, as if (Y/n) had just given him an electric shock. “Is she all right? Has something happened?”

None of the demigods answer, but their faces must’ve told him that something was very wrong. He takes off his cap and goggles. He has the same sandy-colored hair as Annabeth, and intense brown eyes. He’s handsome, for an older guy, but it looks as though he hadn’t shaved in a couple of days, and his shirt is buttoned wrong, so one side of his collar sticks up higher than the other side. 

“You’d better come in,” Dr. Chase says grimly. 

The Chase’s house smells like fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies and jazz music is coming from the kitchen. It seems like a messy, happy kind of home – the kind of place that someone had lived in forever.

“Dad!” a little boy screams. “He’s taking apart my robots!”

“Bobby,” Dr. Chase calls absently, “don’t take apart your brother’s robots.”

“I’m Bobby,” the little boy protests. “He’s Matthew!”

“Mathew,” Dr. Chase calls, “don’t take apart your brother’s robots.”

“Okay, Dad!”

Dr. Chase turns to us. “We’ll go upstairs to my study. This way.”

“Honey?” a woman calls. Annabeth’s stepmother appears in the living room, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “Who are our guests?” she asks. 

“Oh,” Dr. Chase says. “This is . . .” He stares blankly at the demigods.

“Frederick,” she chides. “You forgot to ask them their names?”

The demigods introduce themselves a little uneasily, but Mrs. Chase seems nice to (Y/n). She asks if the demigods were hungry, and they admit that they were, and she lets them know she’d bring up some cookies, sandwiches, and sodas. 

“Dear,” Dr. Chase says. “They came about Annabeth?”

(Y/n) half expects Mrs. Chase to turn into a raving lunatic at the mention of her stepdaughter, but she just purses her lips and looks concerned. “All right. Go on up to the study, and I’ll bring you some food.” Her gaze rests knowingly on (Y/n), and she smiles at the daughter of Poseidon. “Nice meeting you, (Y/n). I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Upstairs, they walk into Dr. Chase’s study, and a gasp of amazement escapes from (Y/n)’s lips. 

The room is wall-to-wall books, but what really catches (Y/n)’s attention are the war models. There is a huge table with miniature tanks and soldiers fighting along a blue painted river, with hills and fake trees and stuff. Old-fashioned biplanes hang on strings from the ceiling, tilted at crazy angles like they were in the middle of a dogfight.

Dr. Chase smiles. "Yes. The Third Battle of Ypres. I'm writing a paper, you see, on the use of Sopwith Camels to strafe enemy lines. I believe they played a much greater role than they've been given credit for."

He plucks a biplane from its string and sweeps it across the battlefield, making airplane engine noises as he knocks down little German soldiers. 

(Y/n) smiles slightly, looking up at her girlfriend’s father. 

Zoe comes over and studies the battlefield. “The German lines were farther from the river.”

Dr. Chase stares at her. “How do you know that?”

"I was there," she says matter-of-factly. "Artemis wanted to show us how horrible war was, the way mortal men fight each other. And how foolish, too. The battle was a complete waste."

Dr. Chase opens his mouth in shock. “You –”

“She’s a Hunter, sir,” Thalia says. “But that’s not wy we’re here. We need –”

"You saw the Sopwith Camels?" Dr. Chase says. "How many were there? What formations did they fly?"

“Sir,” (Y/n) breaks in this time. “Annabeth, sh-she’s in danger.”

That gets his attention. He sets the biplane down.

“Of course,” he says. “Tell me everything.”

It isn’t easy, but they try. Meanwhile, the afternoon light is fading outside. 

The demigods were running out of time.

When they'd finished, Dr. Chase collapses in his leather recliner. He laces his hands. "My poor brave Annabeth. We must hurry."

"Sir, we need transportation to Mount Tamalpais," Zoe says. "And we need it immediately."

"I'll drive you. Hmm. it would be faster to fly in my Camel, but it only seats two."

"Whoa, you have an actual biplane?" Percy asks.

"Down at Crissy Field," Dr. Chase says proudly. "That's the reason I had to move here. My sponsor is a private collector with some of the finest World War I relics in the world. He let me restore the Sopwith Camel—"

Sir," (Y/n) says. "Just a car would be great. And it might be better if we went without you. It's too dangerous."

Dr. Chase frowns uncomfortably. “Now wait a minute, young lady. Annabeth is my daughter. Dangerous or not, I . . . I can’t just –”

"Snacks," Mrs. Chase announces. She pushes through the door with a tray full of peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches and Cokes and cookies fresh out of the oven, the chocolate chips still gooey. Thalia and Percy inhale a few cookies while Zoe says, "I can drive, sir. I'm not as young as I look. I promise not to destroy your car."

Mrs. Chase knits her eyebrows. "What's this about?"

“Annabeth is in danger,” Dr. Chase says. “On Mount Tam. I would drive them . . . but apparently it’s no place for mortals.”

It sounds to (Y/n) like it was really hard for him to get that last part out.

(Y/n) waits for Mrs. Chase to say no, but to her surprise, Mrs. Chase just nods. “Then they’d better get going.”

“Right!” Dr. Chase jumps and starts patting his pockets. “My keys . . .”

His wife sighs. "Frederick, honestly. You'd lose your head if it weren't wrapped inside your aviator hat. The keys are hanging on the peg by the front door."

“Right!” Dr. Chase says. 

Zoe and (Y/n) each grab a sandwich. “Thank you both,” Zoe says. “We should go. Now!”

The four hustle out the door and down the stairs, the Chases right behind them. 

“(Y/n)” Mrs. Chase calls as they’re leaving, “tell Annabeth . . . tell her she still has a home here, will you? Remind her of that.”

(Y/n) takes one last look at the messy living room - Annabeth’s half brothers spilling LEGOs and arguing, and the smell of cookies filling the air. Not a bad place, she thinks. 

“I’ll tell her,” (Y/n) replies, smiling slightly at her girlfriend’s stepmother. 

They run out to the yellow Volkswagen convertible parked in the driveway. The sun is going down, and (Y/n) figures they have less than an hour to save Annabeth.

. . . 

At the top of the mountain are ruins, blocks of black granite and marble as big as houses. Broken columns. Statues of bronze that look as though they’d been half melted. 

“The ruins of Mount Othrys,” Thalia whispers in awe. 

“Yes,” Zoe says. “It was not here before. This is bad.”

“What’s Mount Othrys?” Percy asks, feeling like a fool as usual.

“The mountain fortress of the Titans,” Zoe explains. “In the first war, Olympus and Othrys were the two rival capitals of the world. Othrys was –” she winces and holds her side. 

“You’re hurt,” (Y/n) says, ignoring her own possibly cracked ribs. “Let me see.”

“No!” Zoe protests. “It is nothing. I was saying... in the first war, Othrys was blasted to pieces.”

“But . . . how is it here?”

Thalia looks around cautiously as they pick their way through the rubble, past blocks of marble and broken archways. "It moves in the same way that Olympus moves. It always exists on the edges of civilization. But the fact that it is here, on this mountain, is not good."

“Why?”

"This is Atlas's mountain," Zoe says. "Where he hold s—" She freezes. Her voice is ragged with despair. "Where he used to hold up the sky."

They had reached the summit of the mountain. A few yards ahead of them, gray clouds swirl in a heavy vortex, making a funnel cloud that almost touches the mountaintop, but instead rests on the shoulders of a twelve-year-old girl with auburn hair and a tattered silvery dress: Artemis, her legs bound to the rock with celestial bronze dreams. This is what (Y/n) had seen in her dream - though it hadn't been a cavern roof that Artemis was forced to hold. 

It was the weight of the world.

"My lady!" Zoe rushes forward. 

But Artemis says, "Stop! It is a trap. You must leave now." Her voice is strained, and she is drenched in sweat. (Y/n) had never seen a goddess in pain before, but the weight of the sky is clearly too much for Artemis.

Zoe is crying. She runs forward, despite Artemis’s protests, and tugs at the chains. 

A booming voice speaks behind them: “Ah, how touching.”

They turn. 

The General is staging there in his brown suit. At his side are Luke - and half a dozen dracaenae bearing the weight of the golden sarcophagus of Kronos. 

Annabeth stands at Luke’s side - her hands cuffed behind her back, a gag in her mouth, and Luke is holding the point of his sword to her throat. 

(Y/n) meets her girlfriend’s gaze, her sword, Tsunami, still in pen form in her hand, a thousand questions running through her head. There is one message Annabeth is sending her, however: RUN!

(Y/n)’s face hardens. “Luke,” (Y/n) snarls. “Let her go.”

Luke’s smile is pale and weak. “That is the General’s decision, (Y/n). But it’s good to see you again.”

(Y/n) spats at him. 

The general chuckles. “So much for old friends. And you, Zoe. it’s been a long time. How’s my little traitor? I will enjoy killing you.”

“Do not respond,” Artemis groans. “Do not challenge him.”

“Wait a second,” Percy says. “You’re Atlas?”

The General glances at him. "So, even the stupidest of heroes can finally figure something out. Yes, I am Atlas, the general of the Titans and terror of the gods. Congratulations. I will kill you presently, as soon as I deal with this wretched girl."

“You’re not going to hurt anyone,” Percy says, and (Y/n) grunts her agreement. “We won’t let you.”

The General sneers. “You have no right to interfere, little heroes. This is a family matter.”

Percy frowns. “A family matter?”

“Yes,” Zoe says bleakly. “Atlas is my father.”

The terrible thing is: (Y/n) can see the resemblance. Atlas has the same regal expression as Zoe, the same cold proud look in his eyes that Zoe sometimes got when she was mad, though on him, it looks a thousand times more evil. The Titan was all the things (Y/n) had originally disliked about Zoe, with none of the good she’d come to appreciate in her friend. 

"Let Artemis go," Zoe demands.

Atlas walks closer to the chained goddess. "Perhaps you'd like to take the sky for her, then? Be my guest."

Zoe opens her mouth to speak, but Artemis says, "No! Do not offer, Zoe! I forbid you."

Atlas smirks. He kneels next to Artemis and tries to touch her face, but the goddess bites at him, almost taking off his fingers.

"Hoo-hoo," Atlas chuckles. "You see, daughter? Lady Artemis likes her new job. I think I will have all the Olympians take turns carrying my burden, once Lord Kronos rules again, and this is the center of our palace. It will teach those weaklings some humility."

(Y/n) looks at Annabeth. She is desperately trying to tell (Y/n) something. She motions her head towards Luke. But all (Y/n) can do is stare at her. (Y/n) hadn't noticed before, but something about her had changed. Her beautiful blond hair was now streaked with gray - but that didn’t make Annabeth look less beautiful in (Y/n)’s eyes. 

"From holding the sky," Thalia mutters, as if she'd (Y/n)’s mind. "The weight should've killed her."

"I don't understand," Percy says. "Why can't Artemis just let go of the sky?"

Atlas laughs. "How little you understand, young one. This is the point where the sky and the earth first met, where Ouranos and Gaia first brought forth their mighty children, the Titans. The sky still yearns to embrace the earth. Someone must hold it at bay, or else it would crush down upon this place, instantly flattening the mountain and everything within a hundred leagues. Once you have taken the burden, there is no escape." Atlas smiles. "Unless someone else takes it from you." He approaches the group, studying Thalia, (Y/n), and Percy. "So these are the best heroes of the age, eh? Not much of a challenge."

"Fight us," (Y/n) spits. "And let's see."

"Have the gods taught you nothing? An immortal does not fight a mere mortal directly. It is beneath our dignity. I will have Luke crush you instead."

"So you're another coward," (Y/n) snickers.

Atlas's eyes glow with hatred. With difficulty, he turns his attention to Thalia. "As for you, daughter of Zeus, it seems Luke was wrong about you."

"I wasn't wrong," Luke managed. He looked terribly weak, and he spoke every word as if it were painful. If (Y/n) didn't hate his guts so much, she almost would've felt sorry for him. "Thalia, you still can join us. Call the Ophiotaurus. It will come to you. Look!"

He waves his hand, and next to us a pool of water appears: a pond ringed in black marble, big enough for the Ophiotaurus. Percy can imagine Bessie in that pool. In fact, the more I thought about it, the more he was sure he could hear Bessie mooing.

Don't think about him! Suddenly Grover's voice is inside my mind—the empathy link. Percy could feel his emotions. He is on the verge of panic. I'm losing Bessie. Block the thoughts!

Percy tries to make his mind go blank. He tries to think about basketball players, skateboards, and the different kinds of candy in my mom's shop. Anything but Bessie.

"Thalia, call the Ophiotaurus," Luke persists. "And you will be more powerful than the gods."

"Luke . . ." Her voice is full of pain. "What happened to you?"

"Don't you remember all those times we talked? All those times we cursed the gods?

Our fathers have done nothing for us. They have no right to rule the world!"

Thalia shakes her head. "Free Annabeth. Let her go."

"If you join me," Luke promises, "it can be like old times. The three of us together. Fighting for a better world. Please, Thalia, if you don't agree . . ."His voice falters. "It's my last chance. He will use the other way if you don't agree. Please."

(Y/n) doesn’t know what he means, but the fear in his voice sounds real enough. She could believe that Luke was in danger.

His life depends on Thalia's joining his cause. And (Y/n) is afraid Thalia might believe it, too.

"Do not, Thalia," Zoe warns. "We must fight them."

Luke waves his hand again, and a fire appears. A bronze brazier, just like the one at

camp. A sacrificial flame.

"Thalia," (Y/n) mutters. "No."

Behind Luke, the golden sarcophagus begins to glow. As it did, (Y/n) sees images in the mist

all around us: black marble walls rising, the ruins becoming whole, a terrible and beautiful

palace rising around them, made of fear and shadow.

"We will raise Mount Othrys right here," Luke promises, in a voice so strained it is hardly his. "Once more, it will be stronger and greater than Olympus. Look, Thalia. We are not weak."

He points toward the ocean, and (Y/n)’s heart falls. Marching up the side of the mountain, from the beach where the Princess Andromeda was docked, is a great army. Dracaenae and

Laestrygonians, monsters and half-bloods, hellhounds, harpies, and other things (Y/n) can’t even name. The whole ship must've been emptied, because there are hundreds, many more than (Y/n) had seen on board last summer. And they are marching toward the mountain. In a few minutes, they would be there.

"This is only a taste of what is to come," Luke says "Soon we will be ready to storm Camp Half-Blood. And after that, Olympus itself. All we need is your help."

For a terrible moment, Thalia hesitates. She gazes at Luke, her eyes full of pain, as if the only thing she wants in the world is to believe him. Then she levels her spear. "You aren't Luke. I don't know you anymore."

"Yes, you do, Thalia," he pleads. "Please. Don't make me . . . Don't make him destroy you."

There is no time. If that army gets to the top of the hill, we would be overwhelmed. (Y/n) meets her girlfriend’s eyes again. Annabeth nods.

(Y/n) looks at Percy, Thalia, and Zoe, and she decides it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world to die fighting with friends like this.

"Now," (Y/n) says, and together, they charge.

Thalia goes straight for Luke. The power of her shield is so great that his dragon- women bodyguards flee in a panic, dropping the golden coffin and leaving him alone. But despite his sickly appearance, Luke is still quick with his sword. He snarls like a wild animal and counterattacks. When his sword, Backbiter, met Thalia's shield, a ball of lightning erupted between them, frying the air with yellow tendrils of power.

As for (Y/n), she does the stupidest thing in her life - which is saying a lot. She attacks the Titan Lord Atlas.

He laughs as (Y/n) approaches, her sword Tsunami springing to life in her hands. A massive javelin appears in Atlas’s hands and his silk suit melts into full Greek battle armor. “Go on, then!”

“(Y/n)!” Zoe calls. “Beware!”

(Y/n) knows what Zoe is warning her about. Chiron had told her a long time ago: Immortals are constrained by ancient rules. But a hero can go anywhere, challenge anyone, as long as she has the nerve. Once (Y/n) attacked, however, Atlas would be free to attack back directly with all his might. 

(Y/n) swings her sword, but Atlas knocks her aside with the shaft of his javelin. (Y/n) flies through the air, and slams into a black wall. It isn’t Mist anymore. The palace is rising, brick by brick. It’s becoming real.

“Fool!” Atlas screams gleefully, swatting aside one of Zoe’s arrows. “Did you think, simply because you could challenge that petty war god, that you could stand up to me?” 

The mention of Ares sets a jolt through (Y/n), and, ignoring her throbbing ribs, she shakes off her daze and charges again. 

The javelin’s point slashes towards (Y/n) like a scythe. She raises Tsunami, planning to cut off the Titan’s weapon at the shaft, but her arm feels like lead. Suddenly, the sword weighs a ton. 

And then (Y/n) remembers Ares's warning, spoken on the beach in Los Angeles so long ago:

When you need it most, your sword will fail you.

Not now! (Y/n) pleads. But it is no good. She tries to dodge, but the javelin catches her in the chest and sends (Y/n) flying like a rag doll. (Y/n) slams into the ground, her head spinning. (Y/n) looks up and finds herself at the feet of Artemis, still straining under the weight of the sky.

“Run, girl,” she tells (Y/n). “You must run!”

Atlas is taking his time coming towards (Y/n). My sword is gone. It had skittered away over the edge of the cliff. It might reappear in her pocket—maybe in a few seconds—but it doesn’t matter. (Y/n) would be dead by then. Luke and Thalia are fighting like demons, lightning crackling around them. Percy is fighting the dracaenae, and Annabeth is on the ground, desperately struggling to free her hands.

“Die, little hero!” Atlas says. He raises his javelin to impale (Y/n). 

“No!” Zoe yells, and volley of silver arrows sprout from the armpit chink in Atlas’s armor. 

“ARGH!” he bellows and turns back towards his daughter. 

(Y/n) reaches down and feels Tsunami back in her pocket. She couldn’t fight Atlas, even with a sword. And then a chill goes down her back. She remembers the words of the prophecy: The Titan’s curse must one withstand. (Y/n) couldn’t hope to beat Atlas, but there is someone who might stand a chance. 

“The sky,” (Y/n) tells the goddess. “Give it to me.”

"No, girl," Artemis says. Her forehead is beaded with metallic sweat, like quicksilver. "You don't know what you're asking. It will crush you!"

"Annabeth took it!"

"She barely survived. She had the spirit of a true huntress. You will not last so long."

"I'll die anyway," (Y/n) replies. "Give me the weight of the sky!"

(Y/n) doesn’t wait for her answer. She takes out Tsunami and slashes through her chains. Then she steps next to her and braces herself on one knee—holding up her hands—and touches the cold, heavy clouds. For a moment, Artemis and (Y/n) bare the weight together. It was the heaviest thing she'd ever felt, as if (Y/n) was being crushed under a thousand trucks. She wanted to black out from the pain, but (Y/n) breathes deeply. I can do this.

Then Artemis slips out from under the burden, and (Y/n) holds it alone. 

Every muscle in (Y/n)’s body turns to fire. Her bones feel like they’re melting. She wants to scream, but she doesn’t have the strength to open her mouth. She begins to sink, lower and lower to the ground, the sky’s weight crushing her.

(Y/n) concentrates on breathing. (Y/n) thinks about Bianca, who’d given her life so they could get to this moment. If she could do that, then (Y/n) could hold the sky.

(Y/n)’s vision turns fuzzy. Everything is tinged with red. She catches glimpses of the battle, but she isn’t sure if she is seeing anything clearly. There is Atlas in full battle armor, jabbing with his javelin, laughing insanely as he fights. And Artemis, a blur of silver. She has two wicked hunting knives, each as long as her arm, and she slashes wildly at the Titan, dodging and leaping with unbelievable grace. She seems to change form as she maneuvers. She is a tiger, a gazelle, a bear, a falcon. Or perhaps that was just (Y/n)’s fevered brain. Zoe shoots arrows at her father, aiming for the chinks in his armor. He roars in pain each time one finds its mark, but they affect him like bee stings. He just gets madder and keeps fighting.

Thalia and Luke go spear on sword, lighting still flashing around them. Thalia presses Luke back with the aura of her shield. Even he is not immune to it. He retreats, wincing and growing in frustration. 

"Yield!" Thalia yells. "You never could beat me, Luke."

He bares his teeth. "Well see, my old friend."

Sweat pours down (Y/n)’s face. Her hands are slippery. Her shoulders would've screamed with agony if they could. (Y/n) feels like the vertebrae in her spine are being welded together by a blowtorch.

In her daze, (Y/n) can’t place Percy’s or Annabeth’s positions. She watches, however, as Artemis advances. The goddess was fast, but the Titan’s strength is impossible. His javelin slammed into the earth where Artemis had been a split second before, and a fissure opens in the rocks. He leaps over it and keeps pursuing her. The goddess was leading him back towards (Y/n). 

Get ready, the goddess speaks in her mind. 

(Y/n) is loosing the abulity to think through the pain in her ribs. Her responce is somthing like agggghh-owwwww.

“You fight well for a girl,” Atlas laughs. “But you are no match for me.”

He feints with teh tip of his javelin and Artemis dodges. (Y/n) sees the trick coming. Atlas’s javelin sweeps around and knocks Artemis’s legs off the ground. She falls, and Atlas brings up his javelin tip for the kill. 

"No!" Zoe screams. She leaps between her father and Artemis and shoots an arrow straight into the Titan's forehead, where it lodges like a unicorn's horn. Atlas bellows in rage. He sweeps aside his daughter with the back of his hand, sending her flying into the black rocks.

(Y/n) wasnts to shout her name, or run to her friend’s aid, but she can’t speak or move. She couldn’t even see where Zoe had landed. Then Atlas turns on Artemis with a look of triumph in his face. Artemis seems to be wounded. And she doesn’t get up. 

"The first blood in a new war," Atlas gloats. And he stabs downward.

As fast as thought, Artemis grabs his javelin shaft. It hits the earth right next to her and she pulls backward, using the javelin like a lever, kicking the Titan Lord and sending him flying over her, (Y/n) sees him coming down on top of her and she realizes what would happen. (Y/n) loosened her hold on the sky, and as Atlas slams into her, she doesn’t try to hold on. (Y/n) lets herself be pushed out of the way and she rolls.

The weight of the sky drops onto Atlas’s back, almost smashing him flat until he manages to get to his kness, strugging to get out from under the crushing weight of the sky. But it is too late. 

"Noooooo!" He bellows so hard it shakes the mountain. "Not again!"

Atlas is trapped under his old burden. (Y/n) tried to stand and fell back again, dazed from pain. Her body feels like it was burning up.

Thalia backs Luke to the edge of a cliff, but still they fought on, next to the golden coffin. Thalia has tears in her eyes. Luke has a bloody slash across his chest and his pale face glistened with sweat.

He lunges at Thalia and she slams him with her shield. Luke's sword spins out of his

hands and clatters to the rocks. Thalia puts her spear point to his throat.

For a moment, there is silence. 

“Well?” Luke asks. He tries to hide it, but (Y/n) can hear the fear in his voice. 

Thalia trembles with fury.

Behind her, Annabeth comes scrambling, finally free from her bonds. Her face is bruised and streaked with dirt. "Don't kill him!"

"He's a traitor," Thalia says. "A traitor!"

In her daze, (Y/n) realizes that Artemis is no longer with her, and Percy had taken the goddess’s place at her side. The goddess had run off toward theblack rocks where Zoe had fallen.

"We'll bring Luke back," Annabeth pleads. "To Olympus. He . . . he'll be useful."

"Is that what you want, Thalia?" Luke sneers. "To go back to Olympus in triumph? To please your dad?"

Thalia hesitats, and Luke makes a desperate grab for her spear.

"No!" Annabeth shouts. But without thinking, Thalia kicks Luke away. He looses his balance, terror on his face, and then he falls.

"Luke!" Annabeth screams.

Percy helps (Y/n) as they rush to the cliff’s edge. Below them, the army from the Princess Andromeda had stopped in amazement. They are staring at Luke’s broken from from teh rocks. Despite how much (Y/n) hated him, she couldn’t stand to see it. She wants to belive the son of Hermes is still alive, but that is impossible. The fall is at least fifty feet, and he isn’t moving.

One of the giants looks up and growls, "Kill them!"

Thalia is stiff with grief, tears streaming down her cheeks. (Y/n) pulls her back as a wave of javelins sail over their heads. They run for the rocks, ignoring the curses and threats of Atlas as they pass.

"Artemis!" Percy yells.

The goddess looks up, her face almost as grief-stricken as Thalia's. Zoe lies in the goddess's arms. She is breathing. Her eyes are open. But still . . .

"The wound is poisoned," Artemis says.

"Atlas poisoned her?" Percy asks.

"No," the goddess says. "Not Atlas."

Artemis shows them the wound in Zoe’s side. (Y/n) had almost forgotten her scrape with Ladon the dragon. The bite is so much worse than Zoe had let on. (Y/n) can barely look at the wound. Zoe had charged into battle against her father with a horrible cut already sapping her strengh. 

(Y/n) feels a hand lacing through her’s. She glances over to find Annabeth standing beside her. 

“The stars,” Zoe murmurs. “I cannot see them.”

“Nectar and ambrosia,” Percy says. “Come one. We have to get her some.”

No one moves. Grief hangs in the air. Even Artemis is too shocked to stir. The demigods may have met their doom right there, but then (Y/n) hears a strang buzzing noise. 

Just as the army of monsters come over the hill, a Sopwith Camel swoops down out of the sky. 

“Get away from my daugther!” Dr. Chase calls down, and his machine guns burst to life, peppering the groud with bullet holes and startling the whole group of monsters into scattering.

“Dad?” yells Annabeth in disbelief.

“Run!” he calls back, his voice growing fainter as the biplane swoops by. 

This shakes Artemis out of her grief. She stares up at teh antique plane, which is now coming back for another strafe. 

"A brave man," Artemis says with grudging approval. "Come, We must get Zoe away from here." She raises her hunting horn to her lips, and its clear sound echoes down the valleys of Marin. Zoe's eyes are fluttering.

"Hang in there!" Percy tells her. "It'll be all right!"

The Sopwith Camel swoops down again. A few giants threw javelins, and one flew straight between the wings of the plane, but the machine guns blazed. I realized with amazement that somehow Dr. Chase must've gotten hold of celestial bronze to fashion his bullets. The first row of snake women wailed as the machine gun's volley blew them into sulfurous yellow powder.

"That's . . . my dad!" Annabeth says in amazement.

They don’t have time to admire his flying. The giants and snake women are already recovering from their surprise. Dr. Chase would be in trouble soon.

Just then, the moonlight brights, and a silver chariot appears from the sky, drawn by the most beautiful deer (Y/n) had ever seen. It lands right next to them.

"Get in," Artemis says.

Annabeth helps (Y/n) get Thalia on board, and Percy helps Artemis with Zoe. They wrap

Zoe in a blanket as Artemis pulls the reins and the chariot sped away from the mountain,

straight into the air.

"Like Santa Claus's sleigh," (Y/n) murmurs, still dazed with pain.

Artemis takes time to look back at her. "Indeed, young half-blood. And where do you think that legend came from?"

Seeing them safely away, Dr. Chase turns his biplane and follows like an honor guard. It must have been one of the strangest sights ever, even for the Bay Area: a silver flying chariot pulled by deer, escorted by a Sopwith Camel.

Behind them, the army of Kronos roars in anger as they gather on the summit of Mount Tamalpais, but the loudest sound is the voice of Atlas, bellowing curses against the gods as he struggles under the weight of the sky.

. . . 

Annabeth and (Y/n) fly along side by side on the back of the pegasai. 

“Your dad seems cool,” (Y/n) tells Annabeth. 

It was too dark to see her girlfriend’s expression. She looks back, though California is far behind them now. 

“I guess so,” Annabeth replies. “We’ve been arguing for so many years.”

“Mhmm,” (Y/n) hums. “You mentioned that.”

“You think I was lying about that?” It sounds like a challenge to (Y/n), but a pretty half-hearted one, like she is asking it of herself.

"I didn't say you were lying. It's just . . . he seems okay. Your stepmom, too. Maybe they've, uh, gotten cooler since you saw them last."

She hesitates. "They're still in San Francisco, Percy. I can't live so far from camp."

(Y/n) doesn’t want to ask her next question. She is scared to know the answer. But I asks it anyway. "So what are you going to do now?"

They fly over a town, an island of lights in the middle of the dark. It whisks by so fast they might've been in an airplane.

"I don't know," she admits. "But thank you for rescuing me."

"Hey, you’re my girlfriend. I would go through Tartarus to rescue you."

"You didn't believe I was dead?"

"Never."

She hesitates. "Neither is Luke, you know. I mean . . . he isn't dead."

(Y/n) stares at her. She doesn’t know if Annabeth is cracking under the stress or what. "Annabeth, that fall was pretty bad. There's no way —"

"He isn't dead," she insistas. "I know it. The same way you knew about me."

Word Count: 5630 Words

[bendycxmet]

Meet Cute—Vash the Stampede

Summary: A new town can be quite lonely by yourself. That is, until you meet someone new.

Word Count: ~1.3k

Content: fluff, modern AU because why not?, whole gang makes an appearance, slight angst (on the reader's part) just for a bit

As you walk along the populated beach, your sandals roll and scratch against the sand-covered pavement, scraping sounds echoing in your ears. The sun is slowly descending on the horizon, fluffy clouds strewn across the sky and painted in lovely shades of pink. Laughter and loud music boom from speakers around you, skaters and runners dodging your slow-moving figure as you look for a quiet spot to enjoy your sandwich and lemonade, water droplets sliding along your hand from your drink on this warm day.

The joyous environment doesn't entirely match how you are feeling on the inside. A new and prosperous job was offered to you sometime after graduation, but this required you to move away from your family, friends, and everything you knew and were familiar with. It was a new chapter in your life, and you knew it had to be done. Although, this big change proved to be not as great as you had hoped it to be.

Sure it might be hundreds of miles away from home, but I’ll finally be working a job I always wanted! I can always go to the beach after work! Always nice to meet new people.

You thought all this before you left, optimistic views of a new start to your life swirling in your head as you moved into your new apartment. But… things were not going quite so smoothly. Everyone at work was either older or too uptight for you to be able to call them a friend. Your neighbors hardly showed their faces. Homesickness was settling in and you were beginning to doubt your decision.

With a heavy sigh, you plop yourself down on the barrier separating the sandy beach from the walking locals enjoying the weather on the sidewalk. Crossing your legs, you bite into your homemade sandwich, spacing out as you peoplewatch. Nearby, you see a volleyball net, a team of four players playing a two vs two match. 

Must be nice. You thought, laughter erupting from the pair of girls on one side of the net, the taller one picking up the shorter one and swirling her around in victory. On the other side of the net, you saw a head of black hair buried in the sand, presumably from a missed dig. You watched as his blonde teammate laughed, hands on his knees. You couldn’t get a good look at what he looked like, as his muscular back was to you.

They seem like a close group of friends. Wonder how they got to know each other.

Turning away from the scene as the heaviness in your chest deepened, you gazed out at the deep blue waters, letting your mind flow with the crashing waves that came onto the shore.

“Wolfwood, no! Don’t hit it so hard, there are people around! Oh no… Watch out!” 

The loud, chastising voice barely reached your ears before a black and red volleyball entered your sight, hitting the sandwich right out of your hands. You gaped at your now empty hands. 

Frantic running could be heard as someone came near.

“I’m so sorry for that! Are you okay?!” 

You finally looked up, stunned immediately. 

Pretty… is all you could think as your eyes wandered around the stranger's face. It was the blonde guy laughing from earlier, only this time you could finally see what he looked like. Swimmingly beautiful azure eyes rivaling the beauty of the ocean past him stared apologetically at you, a small mole sitting right near the corner of one of his eyes. A metal hairband pulled back his blond hair, and freckles dotted his entire face and body, perhaps from hours spent on this very beach. From up close, you could see he was definitely…muscular.

I need to come to this beach more often.

“-and he just spiked it hard, I’m really so sorry. He can really be a sore loser sometimes.” His apologies finally reached you, pulling you from your ogling.

“It’s just a sandwich, it’s no big deal. I can help feed the local wildlife,” you giggled as a seagull squawked above you, signaling it had noticed the lost sandwich lying in the sand. “You guys seemed to be playing quite the match over there. Who’s winning?” you teased.

The blonde blushed, adding to the pinkness already on his cheeks from the exertion of the game. “I’d rather not say…”

You closed your eyes as you cackled at his embarrassed display, missing the way his blush deepened. He didn’t even say anything that funny…have I really had not that much human interaction lately? You swiped at your eyes, peeking at him with one eye. 

Cute… he thought.

“Where are my manners? My name is Vash!” he extends his hand for you to shake. You grab onto his hand, noting the rough callouses on his fingertips and palm. Somehow, his touch managed to be soft and warm other than that. 

“And the idiot that hit the ball over there is Nicholas, the tall girl is Milly, and the shorter one is Meryl.”

You introduce yourself as well, giving his hand a light squeeze back as he holds onto your hand a beat longer than normal. His mouth tasted the syllables of your name as he echoed it back to you, grinning as he liked the taste of it on his tongue. He could get used to saying that. He pulled away after, huffing a laugh as he looked away. 

You quickly glanced around his shoulder, giving a quick wave to his friends, the girls enthusiastically returning the greeting while the tanned male gave a quick nod.

“I haven’t seen you around here before. We usually come every other day when we can so I’m pretty familiar with the folks here. I think I would notice someone as lovely as you.” Vash noted. 

“I’m new in town, actually. I just came out today to enjoy the weather and have a little picnic with myself…” you reply, choosing to ignore his final remark to save your wildly beating heart. You don’t usually like someone this quickly, but Vash seemed to have an energy that drew you to him the instant you met. 

I want to get to know him. A small desire in your heart made itself known.

“Is that so? Why alone? An evening like this is wonderful when you have friends to enjoy it with… or a partner…” he pried.

“Haven’t gotten that far here yet,” you smiled wistfully, twiddling with the lemonade cup in your hand.

“Tell you what, let me take you to one of my favorite sandwich shops on the pier one of these evenings. It’s the least I could do after we ruined your picnic,” he offered, a nervous smile etched on his face, scared of your rejection. 

“I’d like that.” You smiled, staring back at his fidgety gaze, noting how he carved a path all around your features, taking them in. If you had looked up a second later, you would have missed the way his eyes held a subtle admiration. He finally met your stare when you caught him looking.

“Yay! Ok, I’m so excited, here let me give you my phone number-”

“Oi! Blondie, quit flirting!”

Vash visibly flinched, thumbs freezing over your phone screen. Both of your faces felt hot.

“Sorry about him. Yeah, gimme one sec!” He yelled back. 

He paused as he handed your phone back. “Come join us.”

“Oh, are you sure? Your friends wouldn’t mind?”

He shakes his head, offering his hand again to pull you from the barrier. You take his hand and hop down, yet he doesn't take his hand away. “It’s only right. I ain’t leaving you alone after we ruined your evening.”

“Vash, you really didn’t-” your sentence is cut short as Vash begins to run, pulling you with him.

“Hey guys, let me introduce you to my new friend!”

Your heart tightens, only this time it feels lighter and warmer. The sun begins to dip below the horizon, lights turning on along the pier.

Friend, huh?

A/N: I think meeting him for the first time would be so neat :)) anyway reblogs/comments appreciated!!

masterlist

divider by saradika

[kingofthe-egirls]

PRINCESS: LUFFY x Y/N

art by the loveliest @zwhoreo

part 1

for @missmugiwara

(cw: kissing, first time, sex, reader is an artist, she has pink hair, i reference her nipples as strawberries bc mine are pink and that’s the word i wanted to use)

(a/n: romance actually)

Songs: “Hotel” by Claire Rosinkranz

words: 2.1k

- luffy loves the term “sweetheart” to describe his love interests

- relationships are sparse and shortlived, before falling in love with y/n

- (beach house part 2)

- luffy’s in love with his princesses:

- (also sorta a beastgirl fetish like he loves cute ears/tail)

- shirahoshi, camie, marguerite, uta, rebecca

- (he’s attracted to fairy princess style hair, sometimes pink, and also mermaids)

- his romantic storyline (for my specific interest):

- first crush was uta

- first kiss was camie

- first relationship/sexual experience was marguerite

- (timeskip shenanigans)

- shirahoshi is a special sweetheart

- sexual dip besides himself, he’s still nursing his own wounded heart (poor senchou)

- sees y/n!!!

- he sees you and starts crushing pretty much immediately, you send butterflies through his center and he’s smiling a lot more since you started adventuring with his crew

- romantic inspirations

- he’s still sorta scared to start something new, so he’s slow and shy at first (shy!luffy supremacy)

- he’s so heart-led it’s super important for him to see that you’re sexually attracted to him as well as romantically in love with him, that’s special

- he’s in love with you

- sees hearts around your face whenever you smile at him

- does everything he can to see your smile

- you make him smile, too

****

Blue shutters, white trim. Your beach house stands squat and adorable at the top of the small sandy cliff face. White clouds scatter across the horizon, sat low and steamy in the twilight purple. Mauve, you’d say.

If you were to draw it with your colored pencils, you’d mix rose pink with soft, pastel purple. Plus a hint of dusty blue and saturated orange.

Luffy stops, a few steps behind. He reaches up an arm to softly touch the back of your hand; he traces soft fingertips over your knuckles.

“S’pretty, isn’t it?”

He asks, his warmth seeping into you as he surrounds your hand in his.

“Setting suns are my favorite thing to draw,” you say, smiling, “Except for you, of course.”

Luffy smiles, sliding his fingers between yours. He’s seen your sketchbooks, all filled up with drawings of him. His fights, his forms, his smiling face.

He sees how you see him.

He likes how you see him.

You see how he sees you, too.

Someone kind, someone special. Someone he wants to listen to, to learn from. To sandwich between the bones of his ribcage and keep you safe behind his sternum.

So he does.

Luffy squeezes your hand, before tugging you closer to his body. He presses you against his chest, sun soaked and so warm. His hand stays in yours, stroking your knuckles like a fairytale prince. His other cradles the back of your head.

He strokes slender fingers over your hair. Lifting up on tiptoes, he lets you press your lips against his. He tastes like sunshine: all warm and amber like honeycomb straight from the smoked-out beehive.

“S’okay if I call you sweetheart?”

He strokes his thumb over your knuckles, before bringing them up to his plush lips. He skims them across your sensitive skin, looking up at you from under dark lashes. You squirm in place, upset and excited and all sorts of things that make you want to stuff him in your mouth and never let go. So you hum an appreciative mhmm! Before smashing your lips together again.

Luffy snickers into your mouth, before sweeping you off your feet. He carries you bridal style up the rest of the stairs and into your waiting beachside cottage.

****

Luffy slides into bed beside you, fresh and clean after his shower. You’ve already toweled off and slipped under the covers, all shiny and new after sand scrubbed your skin and the shower washed your body clean. Your hair lays wet and messy on the pillow.

Luffy’s wearing red shorts and nothing else. He radiates heat throughout the covers as soon as he makes contact with the bed.

“Hi,” he whispers as you curl instinctively into him. He’s so warm.

“Hi, captain,” you whisper back, lips moving against his collarbone. He runs a hand over your head, smoothing down your wet tangles.

“Kiss me?”

He asks, raspy, so you lift your head to press your lips against his. He smells like the bar of green soap you keep in the shower. He smells like home. You sigh into his lips, and with a small sound, he parts them.

Luffy’s tongue is warm and slick, sliding against your bottom lip as he curiously explores your mouth. His other arm wraps around you, pulling your weight fully on top of him. His hardness pokes your thigh, and you gasp. Luffy pulls back a bit, sheepish.

“S’okay?” He asks, rubbing his hands over your back. You’re in a soft, faded t-shirt and pajama shorts. You’re not wearing underwear, and from the feel of his cock, neither is he.

“Yes, it’s okay,” you say, stuffing your face into the crook of his neck. He’s always made you feel safe, and now that you know he wants you—it’s all so surprising and fun and scary, too.

Chemical reactions flare through your system: all of Luffy’s smells and sounds and pheromones mixing together in a magenta-scented cocktail that dizzies your brain and blurs your vision.

Luffy scratches your scalp. His fingers are calloused and strong, as his sugar-soft lips plant a sweet kiss to your forehead. He hums, a little melody you’ve heard him sing to himself as he sits on the ship’s figurehead. It’s his little happy song.

“What didja wanna do tonight?” You ask, propping your chin on your hands. You blink up at your captain, from where you’re resting on his chest. He squiggles under you, smiling and flushed.

“I dunno! Sleep?”

You smile, in spite of yourself.

“Sleep is good,” you agree, before drumming your fingers against his sternum. “Is it okay if we do something else, besides sleep?”

Luffy nods eagerly.

He sits up, cradling you in his arms so now you’re sidesaddle on his lap. He kisses you, hard.

“Luffy!” You gasp in between sliding, hot kisses. He growls, low in his throat, before tearing your t-shirt off over your head. He pauses, searching your face for discomfort. But all he finds is a hot flush and a slight nod, before your hands are on his cheeks and you’re stuffing your own tongue down his throat.

“Mmph!” He groans in surprise, before popping off your lips in order to bend his head down. Captain Luffy sucks your nipple into his mouth, muttering something that sounds like “strawberry” under his breath. It stings, but it’s nice.

His tongue feels like heaven.

Luffy moans as he slobbers over your tits, suddenly manic as he tastes your skin like this for the first time. He’s practically vibrating as he holds you, and you gasp as steam starts to roll off his skin in waves.

“Luffy!”

“Sorry, hah,” he rasps, laving his tongue in between your breasts. He circles the tip around your other nipple, giggling slightly as you shiver. “Second gear…,” he mumbles, thunking his forehead into your chest. “Ya don’t mind, do ya sweetheart?” He stares up at you with big, sparkly eyes that make you go all dumb inside.

You shake your head, melted, as he snickers and starts peppering white-hot kisses into your skin. His body is all pink now, steam wafting off of him and enveloping you in a hot cloud.

He wraps his arms around you tighter, switching you around so now your back is pressed against his sweaty chest. He massages your tits in calloused hands, his chin on your shoulder as his cock throbs hard against your ass. He groans, thumbing your nipples between rough fingerpads.

“D’ya like it from behind, kitty cat?”

His voice is a puff of hot, steamy air that whisks the hair around your ear. A thrill runs through you, noradrenaline and lust clouding your senses. You have nothing else to offer him but a short nod and a strangled moan. He’s got you wrapped around his rubber finger.

****

Luffy takes you from behind, sitting you on his lap and sliding his cock inside. You’re on your knees, face flushed and chest heaving with ragged pants. You turn your head to the side, pink waves of mussed-up hair falling over one shoulder. You caress the side of Luffy’s face.

“S-so good, sweetheart,” you moan, feeling the weight of him inside you.

Luffy sinks his teeth into your shoulder, his hands holding your waist as he slides you up and down his cock. The quilt scratches under your knees, and you can barely make out the shapes of framed pictures on the opposite wall. It smells like sweat in here.

You’ve never had sex before.

It’s—weird.

It stings, and—

it’s soft, and

it’s hard too

and Luffy’s breath is everything,

to you.

He pants hot, little ragged breaths in your ear as his searing chest burns the skin of your back. He’s like a walking heat stroke: his heat strokes your walls and, and, and—

“M’cumming!”

It’s a strange sensation, fluttering around someone’s shaft. You’ve never felt it before. It’s—different. From a clitoral orgasm. It’s not shivers down your skin, the release of dopamine coating your edges and bathing you in sparkling gold.

It’s—softer.

It’s clenching in and out as your stomach flutters from the sound of his voice.

“Atta girl,” he praises you, thumbing your clit as he fucks you at a steady pace. His saliva drips onto your skin from where he’s drooling at your shoulder. Your hand is buried in his raven hair; steam still curls around you. He smooches your earlobe. “That’s my fucking princess.”

“Yours, Luffy,” you stutter, slowing your hips as the pulses stop, “I’m your princess.”

He gasps, pleased. “Yeah, ya fuckin’ are, that’s my fuckin’ girl—,” he cuts himself off with a grunt as he starts fucking you harder. He flips you (so easily) and slides back inside you from where he kneels between your legs. His face is sweaty, hair sticking to his forehead, as his dark eyes sparkle in the moonlight. Shit.

“I’m in love with you, Luffy!”

He smiles, eyes crinkled shut as his cockhead brushes your g-spot. There’s that pulsing again—

“Fuck,” he grits out, each word punctuated with a sharp thrust, “I—fuckin’—love—ya too—nng!—kitty!”

And with that, he comes.

“So in love with ya, you’re such a good friend, sweetheart, ya pussy’s takin’ me so well, you’re so fucking fun—!”

“Ah, ah!”

It’s strange, having someone cum inside you.

It’s warm, and

wet,

and weird.

But it still sends shivers down your spine as he pulls out, pools out: his seed slipping from between your thighs and staining the quilt beneath you white. It smells like sweat in here, but worse somehow.

It smells like sex, you guess.

****

Luffy sighs happily, cuddling you in bed after you both cleaned up.

“How was that, sweetheart?” He smiles up at you from where he’s laid his head on your still-bare chest.

“So good,” you sigh dreamily, stroking his hair. It’s all fluffed up and wild. You twirl a lock around your finger. He smooches the swell of your breast beneath his cheek.

“So, are ya gonna be my baby?” He asks hopefully, snuggling deeper into you. He’s twisted his limbs all around you, saying how he wanted to be as close as possible to his sweetheart. “So we can go on dates n stuff?”

You snicker: you can’t help yourself.

You smack a big ole kiss onto the future king of the pirates’ head. He hums, but his index finger is tracing anxious circles against your ribcage. He’s nervous. His heart is on the line, so you do your best to show him it’s safe, always, in your hands.

“Of course, Luffy,” you say, scratching his scalp, “Let’s go on dates all the time now.”

He squirms, happy noises sounding from the back of his throat. “Okay!” He says into your skin, his smile buried against your sweaty chest. He inhales deeply. “Say you’re the pirate king’s princess?”

You blink.

And then, you smile.

“I’m your fucking princess, pirate king.”

“Shishishi!” He snickers, squirming against you even more. He lifts his head, showing off his biggest sunshine grin yet. “I like the sound of that!”

You smile.

So do you.

[smallgodseries]

[image description: An animated sandwich smiles as it high-steps toward us. It’s brown bread is filled with luncheon meat, tomatoes and pickles with 2 olives on toothpicks for eyes. It  juggles avocado, egg, bacon, swiss cheese, cherry tomato, anchovies, bok choy, onions, and shrimp in a perfect arc overhead. Text reads, “52, Homeslice ~ Small God of Sandwiches”]

He is so much older than they dream, although never beyond his expiration date.  He is so much more crucial than anyone gives him credit for. They paint his origins in misty watercolors, call him a gambler’s dream, son of the fourth Earl of Sandwich, as if no one had ever thought to place a thing between two other things and call it whole before one man wanted to keep the mustard off his cribbage cards.

As long as there have been breads and bread-like things, there have been people using them to contain other things that would leave more marks upon the hand that eats them, meats and cheeses and sauces of all kinds. As long as there have been things to contain, he has contained them. Whatever can be placed between two halves of a whole belongs to him, and is delicious in his sight.

Peanut butter and jelly.  Peanut butter and banana. Turkey and stuffing with cranberry sauce.  Bologna and cheese. Sliced strawberries and roast beef. Cucumber and mayonnaise. Even, in more adventurous times, whipped cream and fruit and nothing savory to be seen.

He can be a breakfast, croissant sliced in two and filled with egg and cheese and crispy bacon, a slice of tomato perched jauntily atop. He can be a lunch, turkey and ketchup and cheese, a piece of lettuce for contrast, a smear of spicy mustard. He can even be a dinner, although that is rare anymore. He stands at the center of a million debates. No, he says, a hot dog is not a sandwich, it is food served in a bun; the two pieces of the bun are not distinct, and being enveloped does not a sandwich make. A hamburger, though…a hamburger is his to have.

There are no bad sandwiches. Sandy is overjoyed to bless them all, to see them coddled and consumed, crown to crust, and not a crumb forgotten.

[bellysoupset]

Leo's Birthday

Soooo this fic actually takes place 4 fics in the future and I'll make sure to leave it in the correct order in the masterlist. But I wrote it first and I don't have the patience to wait to post!

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

“Hey, Wagner,” Dean poked his head inside of the empty conference room, where Leo was hunched over his papers, reading over a previous case similar to the one he was currently handling. 

It was only his third case, he couldn’t fumble it. 

“Yeah?” Leo didn’t bother looking up, so he startled when Dean suddenly grabbed him by the shoulders, “Martin, what are you doi-”

“Mark your page,” Dean bossed, squeezing his shoulder, with a smile on his face, “I gotta show you something.”

Leo scoffed at the order, but his curiosity was piqued and he obeyed, marking his page and putting the files away inside his case. They walked out of the conference room together and then entered the elevator. 

“Where are we going…?” Leo frowned as Dean pressed the last digit. The top floor only had Mrs. Mitchell’s office and the rooftop…

“Wait and see,” Dean was bouncing on his feet and Leo squinted, suddenly very suspicious. Surely his co-worker wouldn’t be this happy over bad news, they were friends, so- 

The door opened and Leo nearly jumped out of his skin as a huge “SURPRISE!” followed.

He startled, his back hitting the inside of the elevator, then let out a chuckle at his own expense. His coworkers were all gathered around the door. Sandra, Chuck, Nicole from the reception, Mrs. Mitchell — his boss! —, others as well. 

Sandy was holding a box with a bento cake and two cupcakes inside of it. The icing was a deep, forest green, with golden flakes all over it. Their office’s colors. 

“You didn’t think you could hide your birthday from us, did you Wagner? We’re professional snoopers,” Dean messed up his hair, shoving Leo out of the elevator. There was a table on the rooftop and they had piled on little tea sandwiches, more green cupcakes and a champagne bottle.

Leo’s chest squeezed with happiness, “I wasn’t hiding anything, I - I love this, thank you,” he interrupted himself, as Sandra passed the box with the mini cake and cupcakes to Chuck’s hands and pulled him into a hug to congratulate him.

It was nearly the end of their day, so they spent an hour there celebrating. Leo devoured his cake. It was almost too much for one sitting, but he hadn’t had lunch, so that hit just the right spot. 

Still, as they wrapped up, he was feeling full enough he decided to skip on the two cupcakes and just bring them home for later. 

“Go home, Wagner,” Mrs. Mitchell patted his arm, “and next year we hope to know with more advance than Dean guessing because he was snooping during lunch,” she rolled her eyes, “so we can have a proper lunch in celebration.” 

“This was amazing, I don’t need anything else, ma’am,” Leo blushed and she wrinkled her nose at his line. 

“Don’t settle for less than you deserve, Wagner. Now get out of my sight before I change my mind.”

She talked like their football coach, Leo thought with a smile, nodding and heading to the elevator. Maybe that was why he liked her so much.

Having two hours more than he had expected, Leo took his time driving home, stopping along the way to pick up flowers for their apartment and treats for JD.

Leo called Vince, but he didn’t pick up, indicating he was on the road. Jonah was surely still at the hospital. Leo took a long shower, then hit the dial to Luke, while putting the two remaining cupcakes in the fridge, taking a needless bite of one. He was bored and ready to start his birthday celebrations. 

“Hi kid,” Luke picked up on the second ring, “sorry, I’m in the middle of something. Is this anything urgent?”

“No,” Leo pouted, “we can talk at the restaurant, I was just bored and wanted to chat.”

“Sorry,” Lucas sounded busy, “I’m in the shelter-”

“The homeless shelter?” Leo raised his eyebrows, squishing the phone between his cheek and shoulder and falling down to his knees as he saw JD get out from under the couch, “what are you doing there?”

“I started working here yesterday,” Luke was breathless, “I’ll tell you all about it over dinner. See you in a couple hours, kid.” 

“See you,” Leo sighed, hanging up and then getting down on his stomach on the floor in order to grab his cat. JD let out an indignant meow at Leo snatching her, falling into a baby position as he cradled her, “hi baby. My cute, fluffy, prickly baby,” he said in a childish voice, feeling the judgment oozing out of his pet.

Jonah came home just as Leo was starting to get restless, moving around with nothing to do since he hadn’t planned to have free time.

“Hi!” Jon jumped as he saw Leo sprawled on the couch, already all dressed for the night, with JD getting her fur all over his fancy buttoned up shirt, since she was curled up on his stomach, “you’re home early, I was hoping- I was thinking you’d-”

Leo lifted up his head from the couch cushion, eyebrows raised at Jon’s uncharacteristic fumbling of words, “hoping I was gone?”

“Don’t say it like that,” Jonah scoffed, neatly tucking away his shoes and circling the couch in order to look at him, “don’t you look nice.”

“Thank you,” Leo grinned, lazily scratching JD’s head, “my boss gave me the last two hours of my day off, but uh… I had nothing to do, so I’ve been here, bothering JD.”

“She looks super bothered,” Jonah rolled his eyes, as their spotted cat was purring, rolled up on herself like a snake, on top of Leo, “well, I was planning on leaving this on top of the bed with a letter that said how much I love you and how incredibly successful and attentive and loving I think you are and how I wanna wake up next to you for the rest of my days, but since you’re here…” Jon sat at the edge of the couch, handing him a large silver wrapped box, “it’s nothing flashy, but you’re a lawyer, so I think I’m allowed-”

Leo raised a hand to shut him up, removing the lid of the box and then letting out a whistle, while JD got up to sniff at the wrapping paper, “this is stunning… You got my name engraved?”

“Stamped,” Jonah corrected, as Leo pulled out the dark leather case from the box, eyebrows raised at the marking that said Mr. Leo Wagner - Juris Doctorate, “I left some space there for the hyphenated Banks, if you make up your mind about it…” 

Leo’s cheeks hurt from smiling, “I love it. I’m gonna use it every damn day… And I’m considering the Banks, I promise,” he leaned in to grab Jon’s shirt, pulling him for a kiss, “I love it, thank you.”

“I love you,” Jon shrugged, thumb pushing slightly on Leo’s chin, “I’m gonna shower and we can go- Stop letting JD cuddle when you’re dressed up, bloody hell, Leo.”

“She’s cute!” Leo cried out as Jon got up from the couch and rushed out. He was still completely enchanted by his new case. There were fancy instructions of use and a bottle of leather conditioner in the box, as well as a life-long warranty that made him snort. 

As they made it to the restaurant, Leo’s stomach was starting to hurt from hunger. Even though he had had his mini cake in the office, three hours had passed and he was a big guy, just that wasn’t even remotely enough to sustain him. 

Bella, Luke and Wendy were already inside and Leo rushed to them. The couple had literally just gotten back from their honeymoon three days ago and they hadn’t had a chance to meet yet. 

“C’mere, blondie,” Bella pulled on the collar of his shirt, pulling him into a tight hug, “congratulations, Leo.” 

Leo melted into the hug, wrapping his arms around her and taking Bella’s feet off the ground, tipping his body back. 

They were already a bottle of wine in — not that much, considering there were five of them — when Vince entered the restaurant. 

“I’m so so sorry,” Vince cried out, stripping his biker jacket and throwing it to Luke, “there was a huge tree in the road and no one could get through –  it’s not important – Give me a hug!” Vin practically manhandled Leo out of his chair and the blonde let out a squeak at the ribs crushing hug, “happy birthday, kiddo.”

“I-Can’t. Breathe,” Leo gasped, making Vince chuckle and drop him. Leo dizzily staggered back, practically falling into his seat. 

Conversation went on easily after that. Leo retold that evening’s events, not hiding how proud and happy he was that his boss had joined in the celebration, and Wendy had a million tales to share about the fifty different things she was doing. Luke and Bella couldn’t shut up about the Maldives, still grossly all over each other despite spending nearly a month away with no one but each other’s company. 

Jonah brought up Angie’s proposition while they went through the second main dish – lobster — and Luke shrugged, “I think it’s a brilliant idea.”

“Of course you do, you don’t work,” Jonah wrinkled his nose, causing Luke to glare at him and Leo to snort, continuing to eat his food. 

“I’ll have you know I actually got a job,” Lucas shrugged, as if those weren’t big news and didn’t mean a lot, considering how much of his mental health deteriorating was tied to his career path or lack of one.

“What’s the job?!” Vince practically rattled him and Luke chuckled, pushing his hands away.

“I’m a charity fundraiser,” Lucas was almost beaming with how happy he was and Bella threw an arm around his shoulders, planting a big lipstick-red kiss on his cheek, “I’m not gonna take credit for this, it was actually a culmination of my therapist asking me to get a couple vocational therapy sessions, my beautiful wife telling me to stop sulking about being rich, and me finally using my head.”

“Whatever does that mean?” Leo asked, leaning back on his chair. His stomach was stuffed with food and there was still dessert to go. He fidgeted on his seat, wishing he could rub his belly or loosen up his belt, but it would be bad form in an upscale place such as this. 

“Well, I have the political connections thanks to my mom, I have the glamorous connections thanks to my dad, but I never wanted to do anything with those. They always felt like a burden,” Luke blushed, “but that was silly. There’s people who’d kill to be able to get things as easily as I can, so I realized I can use these connections for good-”

“By making rich people give away their money,” Vince chuckled, clicking his glass with Bella and the ginger nodded almost smugly. 

“It’s not just that,” Luke whined, but he didn’t seem offended, “you actually need to know laws, but lucky me, I’m a Poli Sci major… And I happen to be really good at leading teams and bossing people.”

“We already knew that, Captain,” Leo winked at Luke, leaning to his side and half resting against Jonah, as the conversation continued, Wendy was full of questions about Luke’s new position, even after him saying he was not in charge of anything, but working under a guy. She had that ambitious little sparkle in her eye that often found a twin in Jonah’s. 

Not this time, tonight Jon was too busy saving all of his heart eyes for Leo. He leaned in, pressing his nose to the blonde’s temple and smiling, “enjoying yourself?”

“Uh-hum,” Leo nodded, biting down a grimace as his stomach cramped. Maybe he had overdone it… He just needed a moment, Leo thought, breathing through it and glaring in disgust to his empty plate. He really shouldn’t have cleared the plate. 

Probably noticing his grimace, a waiter quickly came to retrieve all the plates, then hung around as they chatted about dessert. Leo felt a wave of revulsion at the thought of eating another bite. His tummy was packed and he could feel a lump in his throat. 

He coughed lightly against his fist and squeezed Jon’s knee, “order me a water? I gotta go to the bathroom.”

“Of course,” Jon nodded, still lazily studying the menu and letting out a chuckle as Wendy pulled her chair closer to him, impromptu giving him advice on what to pick.

Leo circled the table, when he passed by the guys, Vince darted out a hand in a teasing manner, giving his back a pat. 

It wouldn’t have mattered on any other day, but stuffed as he was, the little friendly pat — that was a bit rough, given Vince never seemed to have understood he was not the size of a kitten — caused a sick burp to come up.

It fizzled out in his throat, but brought with it the taste of his dinner, causing Leo to shudder. He burst into the men’s room and caught a glimpse of his face. 

The wine had done a decent job at masking his paleness, because despite the fact he had turned belly-fish white in the last couple of minutes, the alcohol still caused the top of his cheeks to be a starkling pink. 

He leaned over the sink, splashing his face with water and taking some soothing breaths. The hunched over position caused his stomach to slosh dangerously and Leo let out yet another little burp under his breath, glancing at the door nervously as he touched his belly. 

Deciding he didn’t want to risk getting walked on by one of his friends, Leo stumbled to the private stalls and locked the door. He sat on the toilet instead of leaning over it like his belly was begging him to, then spread his legs out and undid his belt.

The relief was instantaneous and Leo all but melted as the nausea eased up. He planted a hand on his stomach, tugging up his black button up, and scrunched up his face as he looked at his belly. His abs were a far cry from the morning, now his stomach was taut and stretched out, gurgling non stop. 

It wasn’t something they’d be able to hear over the chatting and the soft piano music in the restaurant, but in the empty bathroom he could hear it clearly. Leo groaned, planting the heel of his hand to his tummy and pressing in little circles.

The belly rub wasn’t quite successful and nowhere near as nice as Jonah’s were, but at least it managed to bring up yet another breathy burp- He lurched forward with a much bigger one, that nearly morphed into a retch. Leo slapped a hand over his mouth, shocked and breathing hard, trying to understand if his stomach was going to reject his dinner.

Instead, the near gag seemed to have calmed things down a bit. He carefully removed his hand from his lips, wiping the clammy sweat from his upper lip and breathing out. That was close.

Figuring he had been gone long enough, Leo begrudgingly got up, closing his belt once more and tucking his shirt in. He splashed his face with some more cold water and took a breath, forcing himself to get out of the bathroom.

The minute he walked out, a hand was planted over his eyes and everything went dark. Leo let out a startled squeak, which morphed into a hiccup and Jonah laughed at the noise, kissing his cheek.

“Relax,” he whispered in his ear, guiding Leo to walk forward, blindly, “happy birthday, baby.” 

He lowered his hand and Leo realized Jon had walked him back to their table. Now their friends were standing and there was a large cake in the middle of the table, with candles sticking out and already alight. 

Just the sight of it made his stomach churn, but Leo wasn’t lying when he smiled. The effort his friends had gone through to get him the perfect cake mattered much more than his bellyache and he shoved it to the back of his mind, grinning like crazy as they started to chorus in the happy birthday song.

Leo’s cheek turned a deep red as he noticed other strangers looking at their table, some even joining the singing. He turned his head, hiding it on Jonah’s shoulder and his fiance smiled, squeezing him closer as they finished up the song and Leo leaned to blow out the candles. 

He got pulled in yet another round of hugs and finally Leo fell back down on his seat, on the opposite side of the table. The brief truce he had earned from his tummy back in the bathroom was broken and he was hiccuping, causing Vince to giggle as he let out a little squeaky-toy noise. 

“That’s the cutest thing I’ve ever heard,” Vin chuckled, pushing a plate with a slice of cake his way and then passing Jonah another one, “dig in, kiddo, it’s your favorite. Chocolate on chocolate on chocolate.”

Sounded like hell, Leo thought with a small grimace, but then his stomach sank as he heard Vince’s next words, “my mom was appalled she shouldn’t put in any fruit.” 

“Your mom- Ma made my cake?” Leo asked, both moved and completely distraught as he realized there was no way he could avoid eating now.

“Sorry guys, there was a huge tree on the road,” Wendy mimicked her boyfriend’s excuse from before, forcing a deep voice, “he was late because it was a whole logistic nightmare to bring the cake from Doveport, but Ma insisted, you’re like… Her favorite.”

Luke scoffed, “which is very unfair, I’d just like to point it out,” he said in a teasing way, “I’m supposed to be the favorite.”

“Shut up, Luke,” Bella chuckled, shushing him with a little kiss and stealing a piece of his slice of cake, even though she had her own.

Leo eyed the cake with disgust, nodding and forcing a smile. His mouth watered at the thought of pushing any more sweetness in his tummy, but he ignored it, grabbing the fork. 

Jonah was scratching his back with one hand, continuing to eat and humming in agreement to the compliments about Ma’s cooking and the fact Leo was her favorite out of Vince’s friends. He was blissfully unaware of the turmoil his boyfriend was in and barely registered as Leo pushed half of his slice on his plate, giving up halfway through.

He couldn’t even swallow what was currently in his mouth. Leo tried gulping it down, but his throat was refusing to cooperate. He hiccuped again and this time he couldn’t help but groan, as liquid rocketed up his throat. 

“I’m gonna get the bill,” Jonah whispered, squeezing his nape and getting up, beating Luke to it. 

Leo groaned, barely trying to hide how shitty he was feeling. His friends were all getting up and then Vince circled the table, grinning, “are you drunk, kiddo? That was almost nothing compared to what I’ve seen you drink-”

“No-” he finally managed to gulp down the chocolate mess in his mouth and felt cold sweat break out on his back, his stomach immediately rejecting it, “ate- ate- HIC!- Fuck, too much…”

Vince chuckled, grabbing his arm, “Okay, let’s go outside for some air. C’mon-” 

He gently shoved Leo forward and they walked out of the restaurant, Leo continuing to hiccup. 

The cool air was nice, but Leo knew he was past the point where a breeze could help. He cupped his mouth, muffling yet another little burp and groaning as a hiccup shook him once more, causing his stomach to clench. 

“Shit- Vince,” Leo grabbed his friend’s arm, gulping down nervously and trying to communicate he was gonna puke-

“BOO!” Wendy jumped on him and Leo lost his weak hold on his stomach. He let out a choking noise and folded in half, puking all over the patch of sidewalk and Wendy’s pink and green heels. 

It was so violent that Leo felt dizzy. His eyes stung with humiliation and his nose with the acid that tickled it. He stayed bent down, unable to straighten up not only because he was so embarrassed, but because his belly felt far from settled.

He closed his eyes, letting out a whimper, and then felt a hand in the middle of his back, rubbing up and down. Too rough to be Jonah’s. 

“What the hell, Leo?” Wendy groaned, while Luke said, “Wen, chill out,” and helped him straighten up. He was the one who had stepped closer. Vince and Bella looked equally shocked, Bella was the one carrying the box with the rest of his cake and she was clutching it to her chest. 

“Sorry-” Leo groaned, feeling his whole face burn and his throat close up, now with tears, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry-”

“It’s fine,” Wendy scoffed, as Vince grabbed her by her armpits and helped her slide out of her shoes without having to touch the chocolate vomit covering them, “god, this is gross…”

“Wendy,” Luke stressed, squeezing Leo’s shoulder, “what’s wrong, Leo?”

“Sorry,” he groaned again, sniffling pitifully, “I just- I just had so much to eat and then Wendy startled me and- Why did you startle me?!”

“Because you were hiccuping!” Wendy scoffed, with a disgusted frown on, using Bella’s shoulder to steady herself as she tiptoed away from the mess. Vince seemed to have gotten over the shock and only looked amused, snorting at his girlfriend’s answer, “I was trying to help!”

“Amazing,” Jonah said, half amused, half annoyed, jumping down the last steps and joining them outside, “Leo, are you okay?”

“I wanna die,” Leo groaned, but at least the nausea had calmed down a little. Not fully, he still felt stuffed and his stomach was still churning, but he no longer felt like he was going to throw up right at that minute… 

“You’re fine, Wendy will live,” Jonah rolled his eyes at Wendy’s little huff, but she did sigh and nod.

“Just because it’s your birthday I won’t yell at you,” she said, then in a much kinder voice, “at least do you feel better?”

“Not really,” Leo admitted, leaning on Jonah’s touch and wanting to crawl up somewhere dark and die. More people were leaving the restaurant and he wanted to hide away from their eyes, feeling like everyone knew… His stomach churned and he planted a hand on it, grimacing, “can we go home?”

Jon frowned, touching his face lightly, subtly checking for any heat, then nodded when he felt none, “yeah, of course. You guys can keep the cake, I don’t think anyone is going to eat it at home,” his voice had a slightly humorous tone and Leo blushed, but just the thought of the chocolate cake made his belly gurgle.

He groaned, “don’t even talk about it,” Leo wrapped an arm around his middle, squeezing his eyes shut as the queasiness started to come back. Luke thumped on his back in a sympathetic manner. 

“Feel better, kiddo,” he smiled, “and happy birthday.”

Leo whined as the rest of their friends did the same, side stepping the mess to tell him goodbye, Wendy being the last one. 

She squeezed his arm, “happy birthday, Leo,” her tone was teasing, “at least the hiccups stopped?”

“God, go away,” Leo groaned, muffling a burp in his hand and she grinned, kissing Jonah’s cheek. 

“You owe me a new pair of Jimmy Choo’s” Wendy warned him, waving and running to where Vince was waiting for her on his bike. 

Leo let out a sigh, falling against Jonah and groaning when his fiance let out a little chuckle at his expense. “What the fuck is a Jimmy Choo?” Leo asked, his voice muffled by Jon’s shirt, allowing the other man to pull him back to the car.

[lulublack90]

Prompt 26 - Ignite

@jegulus-microfic October 26, Word count 537

Part 2 of Prompt 23 - Inspire

First part

It took Regulus a week to call him. James had almost given up hope. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the intense man who had ordered him still as he furiously drew his likeness. James got chills every time he thought about how those clever, elegant fingers had skimmed across the page and the way those hauntingly beautiful grey eyes raked over his entire being as they took in every flaw and attribute that was James, transferring it into his sketchpad. He’d felt something ignite inside him when their eyes had met, and he needed to see him again. 

He invited Regulus to his favourite bistro. The food was good, and it wasn’t full of stuffy busybodies. He found a good table by the window and sat down to wait. 

“Hey, gorgeous, how’s it going?” The beautiful sandy-haired girl said as she leaned against his table. 

“Hey, Marls,” James grinned. Marlene was one of his friends from uni, and she worked part-time in the bistro, so he always got free cups of coffee when he came in. “It’s going well. In fact, I’m meeting someone here hopefully,” Marlene’s eyes widened with intrigue. 

“Oooo is this the mystery stranger that forced you to pose with a peeled banana?!” James snorted.

“He’s not a stranger. I know his name.” 

“No, don’t tell me, I need the mystery!” Marlene clamped her hands over her ears until James shut his mouth. “Anyway, what can I get you?”

“Just a coffee for now, ta. I’ll wait until Reg— He arrives.” Marlene disappeared to go get his drink and James waited. 

Regulus was late. James kept checking his phone in case Regulus couldn’t find the place or was running late, but no messages had come through. He waited for nearly an hour before sighing and giving up. He didn’t feel like eating now, his stomach was all gurglely. He waved sadly at Marlene and walked out the door. He shoved his hands in his pockets and, with hunched shoulders, walked back towards his flat. 

He passed an alleyway between two buildings and heard someone chastising themselves. 

“Idiot, why can’t you just walk in there? You’re so late now. He won’t have hung around. Such an idiot!”

“Regulus?” James asked. The alleyway went silent. 

“No,” Came a quiet, embarrassed voice. James walked into the gloomy passage and spotted the hunched figure behind one of the bins. He held out his hand, and after a moment's hesitation, Regulus took it. 

“Come on, you can come back to my flat; I have cheese and bread. I’ll make you a sandwich,” He didn’t let go of the stuttering man's hand until they were nearing his flat. He slowed his steps. “Sorry, I’ve just realised I’ve basically dragged you back to my place. Er, you don’t have to come in if you don’t want to, I can walk you home or back to the bistro…” He was running out of things to say. How could he have been so forward with the obviously nervous man? 

“I like cheese,” Regulus was still quite shy, none of the commanding artists shining through. James took his hand against him and led him up the steps and into the building. 

Next part

[dyinglikenarcissus]

The Help

I kinda hate this title but it was inspired by the movie and I couldn’t make my brain think of anything else

Lee Bodecker x his black female maid reader who is way overqualified for the job

14k words

Warnings: 18+ only!!! Contains: mommy and daddy kink, a bit of breeding kink, smut, protected sex, unprotected sex, and here’s the big one: there’s one ‘negro’. It’s a period fic and a sign of the times so there you go. You’ve been properly warned. Consume at your own risk.

Please don’t copy or repost my work, thanks! Plagiarism is rude

Comments, likes, and reblogs are always appreciated ☺️

————————————————

“Lee! This place is a fucking mess!” Sandy calls as she steps into her brother’s house.

“What the fuck am I supposed to do about it?” Lee grunts back from the staircase, cigarette hanging from his lips as he pulls on his jacket.

“It’s embarrassing! You’re the sheriff. You live in sty,” she sighs picking up a shirt from the floor. “Really?” She asks holding up the garment. “Do you expect mom to get up out of her grave and clean up after you?”

He just ignores her continuing to the kitchen to make a sandwich.

“Are you listening to me?”

“Hard not to,” Lee mutters.

“These ash trays haven’t been emptied since the last time I came over. And what’s with all these wrappers?” Sandy brushes a pile of candy wrappers into an overflowing trashcan. “Why don’t you hire someone?”

“Ain’t nobody got money for that,” Lee replies into his sandwich. He had to avoid three slices of moldy bread and all he had was cheese and mayonnaise in the fridge. He’d just grab something else on his way to work.

“You have a Cadillac and Lincoln and if you had someone cooking for you, you wouldn’t spend so much at the diners and drive ins.” Lee continues to ignore her to grab a Coke from the fridge. “What are you saving all this money for? Hoping one of those hoes you fuck around with will show up with a kid?”

“God, I hope not,” Lee sighs. Maybe he should hire someone. Be nice to have a home cooked meal. Not just add to the mess anymore. He could use a woman’s touch around here…

“You know someone?” He finally asks, a lazy drawl in his voice as he levels his gaze with his sister.

She just smirks back at him. “A friend of mine’s sister is looking for work.”

“Friend of yours? You got shitty friends, Sand,” Lee goads.

“She’s a friend from work,” Sandy explains.

“‘Nother waitress?” She nods. “And it’s her sister?” She nods again. “Ever met her?”

“I have. She comes around the diner sometimes. She’s nice. Educated. She just graduated from college.”

“Why the hell she want to be a maid?”

“She moved back here to take care of their mom. It’s temporary. Until you finally find a wife that can take care of you.”

Lee let’s out an exasperated huff. “Send her over Monday morning.”

Sandy grins triumphantly. “You’re gonna love her.”

“Whatever,” Lee grumbles and lights another cigarette. “Get out of my house. I gotta get to work.”

The next Monday, you stand waiting on an unfamiliar porch in a starched blue dress with a canvas bag of cleaning supplies. You were desperate for anything at his point. Meade was a place you hoped you never had to return to. After you got accepted into Spelman you kissed this place goodbye and refused to look back.

Then your mom got sick your senior year.

So you started to spend your summers out here instead of having fun with your friends. And after graduating nursing school, instead of taking an offer from a innovative hospital with competitive pay in San Francisco, you were stuck back in your backwards home town that still had signs for ‘colored’ and ‘white’ over the water fountains.

There wasn’t a position for a black nurse here. They’d let you work as a custodian but they “didn't have a place for a woman of your stature”. The ‘black’ hospital was thirty minutes away and they couldn’t afford to take on anyone else. They could barely afford their skeleton staff alone. Unless you wanted to work for free with an hour long commute, you were stuck either cleaning or waiting tables or stocking groceries because this place was stuck in the 1800s!

“It’s just for now,” you remind yourself under your breath. Just until you could convince your mom to move to California with you. Your sister has two kids and a full time job. She can only help her so much. So you turned down that job to take care of her. She’d have better care in a bigger city. A better life in general. But old people are reluctant to change. It’d take some time to convince her but you refuse to waste away in this hell hole with the worst people in America.

You’ll have an apartment overlooking the water and be working at a cutting edge hospital by next summer.

“It’s just for now,” you repeat. You hear a heavy set of footsteps approach the door.

Your sister said he was the sheriff. Her coworker’s brother. Figures in Meade County that the sheriffs’s sister would be a waitress and not a lawyer or a politician or a doctor or something more prestigious. You roll your eyes that you’ll be working for the man that continues to enforce Jim Crow after it’s been deemed unconstitutional.

You just hope your mouth can keep in check.

“It’s just for now.”

The door finally opens revealing a wall of a man. You look up to see him dressed in a grey button up stretched over a bit of pooch, stubble forming on his cheeks from not shaving that morning, perfectly cropped dark hair, and a gorgeous set of blue eyes. Sandy’s eyes weren’t nearly as bright.

A small smirk forms on his lips as you stare up at him.

“You the cleaning girl?” He drawls, watching you stare at him dumbly.

“Uh, yeah,” you whisper. “I mean, yes,” you respond a little more confidently. “Yes, sir, sheriff, Mr. Bodecker...”

He lets out an amused noise at your flustering. “Just Lee’s fine. Come on.” He nods toward the house, leading you in and you notice you have your work cut out for you. “You got a name?” You nod and introduce yourself. “You cook?”

“I can cook,” you agree. Your family likes your cooking enough.

“You know anything about gardening?”

“Like a vegetable garden?”

“Yeah. I’m looking to start one. It’d be nice to have some help.” You just nod again not looking forward to getting dirty but your dad taught you some things about flowers while he was still alive.

“I’ll have you make three meals a day. I can offer $5 an hour, five days a week. That sound alright?”

That’s perfect! Plenty to help you save, buy a car, get a home in California. You just nod, attempting to not look so eager.

“Alright. It’s a fucking mess around here so you have your work cut out for you. I work ridiculous hours so i ain’t home a lot. I’m just gonna trust you to find something to do around here.” You nod as you follow him around the house. Two stories, three bedrooms, two bathrooms, the kitchen could use more than a little organizing, and the bathroom looked like it requires a hazmat suit to take care of. “As you can see, you’ll have plenty to do. I’m not a tyrant. I just expect mutual respect.” You nod again as he stops in the kitchen. “Alright. It’s my day off so I’ll be around if you have any questions.” You nod again.

Then he leaves you alone.

Alright. Where to start?

“Oh! Have you had breakfast?” You call after your new employer on his way upstairs.

“Sure haven’t. That’s your first assignment.” You smile and look through the refrigerator for breakfast food.

You step into your crowded mother’s house after a long day of cleaning and cooking to find her in her favorite chair listening to the radio while your sister’s kids chase a ball.

“Will y’all take that outside before you break something?” You scold.

“Leave those babies alone. They aren’t hurting anyone,” your mother laughs weakly.

“You are so much softer on them then you were on us,” you lament walking over to press a kiss to her forehead.

“How was your first day?”

“It was fine. He seems nice enough. Kept to himself mostly but he gave me a key for tomorrow because he doubts he’ll be back home when I’m off.”

“What’s the sheriff’s house like?” She asks ready for all the gritting details.

“It was a mess in there, momma! I’m tackling one thing at a time. It’s nice but I don’t know, I expected him to have one of those plantation homes passed down since the 1800s,” you joke.

“Well, he ain’t a real white.” You cut your mother a look at her statement. She can’t end with that. “His momma immigrated here.”

“Really?” Your mom knows all the good gossip.

“One of those little European countries. There’s a million of ‘em. She was pregnant with him when she showed up and got pregnant with his sister a couple years later. Never did marry. Never did know who the girl’s father was.”

“What’d she do out here?”

“You know I hate to gossip.” Liar. But you don’t say it out loud. “No one ever saw her going to work but folk would see her coming home early in the morning if you follow.”

“Ohhhh,” you laugh at the scandal. You began to wonder how an immigrant became the sheriff in this small town. He was elected while you were in Atlanta so you had no idea that he even existed.

Interesting situation.

“But that was all speculation. Don’t go spreading that around, you hear?”

“Yes, momma,” you smile while rolling your eyes. “I’m gonna start dinner, alright? How’s gumbo sound?”

“Oh Lord, girl! What d’you know about gumbo?” She laughs herself into a coughing fit.

You hand her a handkerchief and rub her back until it passes. “I know plenty, momma. Been in Atlanta for the past six years.”

“Alright, girl. You go on ahead,” she smiles skeptically making you giggle.

You go to start dinner for the house and hope Lee enjoyed the dinner you made him.

Soon your sister come home and shortly afterward her husband and it was a full house. It was noisy and crowded and you never missed your little apartment more than you did in the evenings.

At least you didn’t have to share a room with anyone. It may be small, basically a refitted pantry, but it was private.

You finally retreat to your room alone after showering and wrapping up your hair. You let out a soft sigh as you fall onto your bed. You curl under your covers, exhausted but a little restless for some reason. You aren’t sure why. You should fall asleep the second your head hits the pillow. You know you’re going to be so sore in the morning after today but you can’t settle down.

You jiggle your leg in frustration.

You know what will help you sleep…

You hate doing this in your mother’s home. It was so much easier when you had your own place.

But you need some sleep.

You slip your hand under your night gown. You easily find your clit and apply a little pressure. You bite your lip and let out a soft moan as you let your imagination run wild. Normally you imagined Sidney Poitier or Paul Newman having their way with you but tonight a new face entered your mind.

Oh no.

Brain! No!

Not him! He’s your boss! You whimper at the idea of wanting to fuck the giant man. Stop…

But it felt so good. It was so easy. The idea of his big hands all over you, his lips pressed against your skin.

You let out a quiet whine as you cum far too quickly.

This is bad. This is so bad. But you did manage to relax yourself. You were too tired to overthink it. You’ll figure it out in the morning.

But you didn’t figure it out in the morning. You made Lee his breakfast and sent him off to work before eating something yourself and tackling another mess in his home. You didn’t see him much after your first day. Just in the morning as he got ready for work and, as promised, he normally didn’t make it home in time to see you off. But you kept yourself busy and before you knew it your weekend came. You enjoyed time with your family, took a bus to the city with your mother and sister to shop, went to a movie with some childhood friends, and ended it all with church on Sunday.

And not once did you think about how you got off to the image of your boss. It went to the back of your mind where it belonged and didn’t resurface until early Monday morning.

You let out a soft sigh as you step into Lee’s house. All those images of him unwillingly flood back into your brain as you see him leaning over the kitchen counter looking over the newspaper. His cigarette hangs from his mouth precariously. His weekend clothes are a far cry from his work ensemble. So loose with a slight hint his preferences. You guess his favorite color is red since he owns so many button ups and polos in varying red tones. He also has a collection of colorful socks. They all have interesting patterns and designs. You enjoyed looking at them while folding his laundry.

“Morning,” he greets breaking you from your trance.

“Oh! Good morning,” you squeak in surprise. You hope he didn’t notice you staring.

“Didn’t startle you, did I?

“Yes! I mean no. I mean I don’t-”

“It’s alright,” he chuckles. “It’s early.”

You just nod, taking the out, and place your bag on the table by the door. “What would you like for breakfast this morning?” You ask redirecting your very explicit thoughts.

“I saw you got some thick cut bacon at the store,” he trails expectantly.

“That was meant to be a surprise,” you smile.

“You should’ve hid it better,” Lee grunts.

“Coming right up,” you laugh and head into the kitchen. Lee has Mondays off strangely enough. You think he also has the weekend off. It was odd that he wanted you around on his day off but you did your best to stay quiet and out of the way. It helped that he spent his time outside mostly, working on his garden and mowing the lawn.

He came in a little before noon asking about the lunch you were plating.

“Looks good. Thank you.” You just nod in response as he takes his plate to the dining table leaving you to eat at the kitchen bar.

“You gonna join me?” Lee calls after a moment.

“Oh, no. I couldn’t-“ you start but he reappears just to grab your plate and place it next to his. “I really couldn’t,” you try to explain but he just pulls out the chair next to his and waits for you to sit.

“We can stand here all day staring at each other but I know you’re hungry,” Lee goads when you refuse to budge.

“Fine,” you sigh and roll your eyes.

“See? Ain’t this nice?” Lee laughs while pushing in your chair after you reluctantly sat. You attempt to eat in silence, making yourself as small as possible but the sheriff has other ideas. “My sister said you went to nursing school?” He asks braking your concentration on your green beans.

“Yeah. Um, I graduated from Spelman in Atlanta.”

“Smart girl,” he deduces. “What are you doing cleaning up after me?”

“My mom got sick and there’s no place for a black nurse around here.”

He hums softly in response. “You been to that hospital?” You shake your head softly. “I’d prefer it if you were working there than half those nurses. Some of the meanest women I’ve ever met.” You giggle. “Last time I went in there I swear this woman had never seen a patient in her life. She jabbed me three times to try to get my blood and acted like it was my fault. Ain’t that the first thing y’all learn?”

“Not the first thing,” you smile. “But it’s pretty high on the list.”

“Well, I don’t want you to leave me but I can put in a word for you. Just so there will be someone that can properly draw blood.”

“How do you know I can draw blood?” You smile jokingly.

“You could be worse than that woman but at least you’d be nice to look at.”

“Mr. Bodecker!” You gasp with a smile.

He just smirks back at you. “And what did I tell you about that ‘Mr.’ Shit?”

“Calling you ‘Lee’ is…weird,” you explain shyly glancing away.

“Well, calling me ‘Mr. Bodecker’ is even weirder. Call me fuck face before you call me that.” You can only laugh at his antics, covering your mouth with you hand as you giggle. “Got it?”

“Yes…Lee,” you respond through your laughter.

“Good girl.”

Those word haunt you for the rest of the day and all the way back home. You walked right past your mother with the briefest of greetings on your way to your room. There was left over spaghetti from the night before for dinner so your didn’t have to worry about cooking. You just need to get to your room. You just needed a minute.

Maybe five.

Your hips desperately rocked into your fingers as you think of those two simple little words. That drawl around them. The smirk on his lips as he said them. Fuck! You want to be his good girl forever. It felt so good to be good for him. You whimper into your pillow as you cum around your fingers, soaking your hand. A soft curse escapes your lips. You wish it was Lee’s hand. Lee’s mouth. Lee’s cock…

“Shit.”

This really isn’t good.

Your contact with Lee is minimal for the rest of the week but it all just seems to get worse. The lingering smell of his cologne, the feel of his clothes, his presence left in his house. It’s all so intimate. You can hardly stand it!

Weeks pass like this. You living absolute torture by a man who had no idea what he was doing to you.

Until there’s a lull in one of your days and you hear the strangest noise coming from outside.

You were dusting the selves around the living room when you heard crying outside. It must just be a neighborhood kid but you investigate anyway. When you deduce that it’s coming from the backyard you stick your head out the back door tentatively. Maybe the back neighbor? But it’s coming from a bush…

Maybe the tiny borrower neighbors…

Your speculation that it’s just the neighbors is getting slimmer and slimmer.

You squat down to see under Lee’s freshly planted ground covering and notice a little white ball of fur.

“Oh?” A kitten. Barely even had it’s pretty little blue eyes open. When it sees you, it’s crying gets louder and it toddles its way toward you. “Oh, poor baby. You crying for your momma?” It makes its way to your out stretched hand and continues to scream. You better not mess with it. It’s mom will be back.

Your work day was over two hours later and the screaming has continued nonstop. You find an old sheet and make a little bundle for the baby, a cup full of milk, and your left over turkey from lunch and take it outside. It seems like it could just start eating solids as it gnaws on the turkey slice and happily laps up the milk. “There,” you sigh contently as the kitten stops crying and curls on the makeshift bed you made it. “God, I can’t leave you out here.” You were sure the night time animal activity was pretty minimal but anything was a threat to a kitten this small. And you really can’t bring it home…

You hear the front door open and stiffen. Was it already that late? It takes him a moment to walk out on the back patio but you can’t help but notice the relived look on his face.

“You still here?” You nod and open your mouth to explain but he sees the kitten before you can start. “Where’d that come from?”

“It was in the bushes. I just found it today.”

“Well, bring it in and get it cleaned up. I’ll see if I can find some proper bowls.”

To your surprise, Lee kept the cat overnight.

And when you opened the door the next morning, it stumbled over to you greeting you with a loud meow.

“I told you your momma would be back,” Lee rumbles, his voice is still rough from sleep, coming down the stairs in just a plaid pair of sleeping pants and white tank top. There’s a prominent outline where his cock is and you practically start drooling. You’ve never seen him like this. You want more.

“She’s been crying for you all night. Get her something to eat, will ya?”

“Her?” You ask, shaking yourself from your sex crazed stupor.

“Yeah ‘her’! You gave the little tyke a bath and didn’t notice her lack of balls.”

“Oh my god,” you whisper behind a giggle. Lee disappears back upstairs to finish getting ready while you make breakfast for him and the kitten.

“What are we naming her?” Lee asks, stepping into the kitchen with much more clothes on to your disappointment.

“We?” You ask lifting an eyebrow while you stir grits.

“Yes, momma, we. The kid gotta have a name.” Your face heats at him calling you the kitten’s mom.

“Does that make you her dad?” You smile and place a bowl in front of him as well as a plate of scrambled eggs.

“Kid needs a father,” Lee smirks.

“How about ‘Baby’?”

“Baby, huh?” The sheriff laughs.

“Too simple?”

“Nah, she’s got a ‘Baby’ about her. Definitely gonna be a stripper.”

You laugh softly at his teasing. “Well, what do you suggest? Lee Jr.?”

“Nah. Baby’s good,” Lee grins and starts to eat his food. “So, you got a boy?”

“A boy?” You question placing a bowl of canned tuna in front of Baby leaving her to meow happily and make a mess around her, getting more food on the floor than in her mouth.

“Don’t make me ask you twice?” Lee warns.

You let out a soft sigh. “No. I don’t have a man or a significant other.” He just hums in response, focusing on his eggs. “Do you have a girl?”

“I have you.” You can’t stop your laughter at his statement.

“You don’t have me,” you deny, with a smile.

“Don’t I?” Those bright blues meet your gaze and hold it for a moment. You bite your lip softly wanting nothing more than to be his but you aren’t giving in without a fight. He probably feels so good. His lips probably feel like heaven and he must be amazing to cuddle with. A strong warm body to wrap yourself in. You wish you had him every night. That you could wake up to him every day.

“Even if I don’t have you,” Lee starts again and breaking the spell between you, “I know how to get you to come running to me.”

“How’s that?” Your words come out in a soft whisper. It honestly wouldn’t take much. All he’d have to do is ask.

He gives you a once over from the other side of the kitchen island. His blue eyes gauging you before he answers. “I have your Baby.” You burst into giggles at his words. He’s such a flirt.

“I need to get to work. Watch our little girl for a minute. Daddy,” you add. You can practically hear him purr at the word.

Two can play at this game.

As the weather gets warmer, the days get longer, the less you see of Lee. You make him his breakfast before you leave the night before because he leaves for work early and still gets home late. You watch Baby grow during the day while he watches her at night. The only time you get to talk to him are Mondays and sometimes he still goes into work so you don’t get any quality time.

You miss him.

You miss him immensely.

You sigh while you play with Baby. An old bowtie that Lee got as a gift decorates her neck while she leaps after a ribbon.

“How’s your daddy doing, little girl?” You ask the kitten while she plays. You notice her freshly brushed fur and trimmed nails. He takes such good care of his little girl.

You’ve gotten Lee’s house to the point that basic upkeep was all you needed to do. It left you with a lot of down time. You let Lee know that you weren’t doing much besides fixing his meals but he still wanted you around. So you kept yourself busy. You organized his clothes, cleaned out his garage, and your next task was the basement. The place was full of old stuff left over from when his mother was alive apparently. He explicitly told you to ‘throw all that old shit away’ but it had to be sentimental. He had a reason to keep it at one point. You plan on meticulously going through the boxes, getting rid of moth eaten things, and organizing whatever photos and documents you find. You just felt a need to preserve that for him. Maybe it was because your ancestors were a mystery. Maybe because your history was stolen from you.

You just didn’t want that for anyone else.

Baby follows you down into the dim underbelly of the house. There were boxes stacked on boxes stacked on boxes. You definitely had your work cut out for you.

You get so lost in your work, you almost forget about Lee’s dinner. The only thing that reminds you is Baby crying for her lunch. You quickly run upstairs to make a quick gumbo that you can leave simmering while you go back to work.

You come across a box full of old photos that obviously weren’t taken in America. This must be Lee’s family. There’s a woman that jumps out at you in a lot of them. She looks so much like his sister. This must be their mom. She’s beautiful.

You find a smaller box and place all the photos in it carefully. You’ll sort them later. You fill another box of stained and damaged clothes and tug it toward the stairs. You might have to have Lee haul it to the trash for you.

“You still here, momma?” Well, speak of the devil. Baby goes running to greet her father

“I’m down here, Lee,” you call up the basement stairs. Lee’s form fills the door at the top of the steps and you let out a relieved sigh.

“What’re you still doing here? It’s late,” Lee sighs descending the steps to you. He’s in his full uniform. You can see how he’d be so intimidating out in the world. He such a big man.

“It is?” You whisper in embarrassment. “I got kinda distracted.”

He glances around at the meticulous organizing you’re doing before leveling a hard gaze on you. “I told you to throw it out. Not create a bigger mess.”

“You can’t just throw it all away, Lee. I’m sure some things are sentimental,” you insist.

“I can do whatever I want! It’s my house and I want it gone,” Lee frowns at you. You take a frustrated breath and cross your arms. He gives you an amused look. “Are you sassing me?”

“I don’t know, am I?” You counter, pulling your lips to the side, unimpressed by all of it.

“Why can’t you just throw it away?”

“Because I don’t want you to miss it,” you argue placing your hands on your hips.

“Why would I miss it? It’s just a bunch of hoarded garbage.”

“What if your kids want to see it? Or your sister’s kids?”

“They will never see that.” He glares at you resolutely. There’s finality to his statement but you’re far from done with this argument.

“But, Lee-“

“That’s enough. Get your butt up those stairs. We’re gonna eat and then I’m taking you home.” You let out a disgruntled huff and press passed him. He grips your elbow, halting you in your tracks, and pulling you back towards him. If you weren’t so frustrated with him, you’d be a flustered mess from being this close but right now you just want to knock some sense into him.

You frown up at him, his icy gaze searching yours, waiting for you to break under is scrutiny but you refuse. You’re too feisty for that. He had every intention on telling you to watch your mouth, fix your attitude, that he’s the one in charge around here. But he knows all that is a lie. There’s no arguing with you and you’ve been running this place since he brought you home. Lee finally sighs before releasing you.

He can control you about as much as he can control Baby.

“Let’s just eat something and calm down, alright? I miss seeing you. I don’t want to spend the evening arguing.” You blink up at him. You could just go home. You don’t have to stay.

But you miss him, too.

You nod once and head upstairs. You call home to let your mom know you’ll be late before setting two places at the table while Lee changes up stairs.

It’s a tension filled dinner full of clipped responses and frustrated eye rolls, mostly on your end. To Lee’s credit, he’s making every effort to be civil. You’re just being stubborn for a future you have no real vested interest in. You finish your food with Baby curled on your lap, completely oblivious to the tension between her parents.

Lee gets up and starts clearing the table. You start to get up to help him but he just presses a hand to your shoulder. “Sit. The baby’s sleeping.” You smile up at him and settled back down while he cleans the kitchen. Your fingers stroke Baby’s soft fur. She looks so comfortable. You can’t help but close your eyes as well, leaning back in the chair comfortably.

You didn’t even notice that you fell asleep until you awaken in Lee’s arms. You gasp, jerking in his grip making him chuckle softly.

“Calm down. You’re alright.” You settle back into his embrace, wrapping your arms around his shoulders comfortably.

You’ll let him take you wherever he wants like this.

“I’m still mad at you,” you mutter, nuzzling into his shoulder.

“I know.” He lowers you onto a bed. You instantly recognize the floral comforter of the spare bedroom bed. Baby happily curls up near your head while Lee sits on the side of the bed. “We’re not supposed to go to bed angry,” Lee smiles down at you as you watch him. He presses a loose strand of hair from your face.

“I’m not the one not making any sense,” you yawn, stretching across the bed to get comfortable.

“Alright. Can I explain?”

“It’s your house,” you parrot.

Lee holds his tongue but he wants to tell that mouth of yours off so bad. Then he wants to kiss it until you can’t think straight…

“No one can see that stuff, momma.”

“Why?”

Lee groans at the thought of even needing to explain it. He scrubs his eyes but your stare is unwavering, giant brown orbs waiting for a good explanation.

“It’s easier to just integrate, to forget that I’m from somewhere else, than to be an immigrant.”

“Is that right?” You smirk, completely unimpressed. “Must be nice.” You roll away to face away from him, staring at the wall.

“Look, I don’t,” Lee groans, frustratedly. “I didn’t choose this. My mother never even taught me Romanian. She never talked about it. Never once mentioned my father. She wanted us to be American. Nothing else. She wanted it to be easier for us.” You roll your eyes at the idea. The ridiculousness of it all. “I know you can never take off your skin color. It will never be easier for you. But I can help. I want to help.”

“Do you have any idea what I would give to know where I came from?” You whisper, tears stinging your eyes. “And you just want to throw that away?” Your voice breaks at the last word.

“Hey,” Lee soothes, pulling you to his chest. “You know this world we live in. You’re either white or nothing.”

“The world won’t always be like this, Lee!” You cry, pressing away from him.

“I hope to God it won’t. But for right now, everyone else need protection. I just don’t want you to be hurt. I don’t want anyone to be hurt.”

Tears spring from your eyes. “It’s all so stupid.”

“I know.” Lee pulls you into his arms as you cry into his shoulder. “It’s ridiculous. I hate it. I hate it so much.” He holds you while you cry, rubbing your back and pressing kisses to your temple. You eventually sniffle and start to calm down.

“You still mad at me?” Lee mutters, squeezing you a little tighter.

“No,” you grumble. You’re mad at the entire situation but you can’t stay mad at Lee. Lee just hums and continues to rub your back.

“Stay here tonight.”

“Oh no! I can’t! I should really go home,” you trail.

“That wasn’t a question. You’re gonna stay right here. I need you close.”

“My mom will throw a fit,” you warn.

“I’ll explain it all to her,” Lee smiles watching you. Pinning you under his pale gaze.

“You’re going to explain how a single man and a single woman stayed in a house together and nothing happened?” You laugh darkly as you rub at your swollen eyes.

“I don’t mind bending the truth for you,” Lee smirks. “Besides, it won’t be a lie if you stay in your room and I stay in mine.” He pulls one of your hands from your face to rub the back of it with his thumb.

“What if I have a nightmare?” You whisper.

“Well,” Lee clears his throat and the most naughty look crosses his features, “you can always come tell me about it.” Lee’s hand slides from yours to grip your thigh. “You know where everything is.”

You smile up at the man and he presses a kiss to your cheek. “Goodnight, daddy.”

“Goodnight, momma.” He pats Baby on the head before leaving the room.

You take a calming breath and settle into the loaned bed before picking your way to the guest bathroom to get cleaned up. You find a set of pjs Lee left for you on the counter. You’re absolutely swimming in the shirt and the pants won’t stay on your hips so you forgo them but they’re so comfortable and smelt of him.

There was so much of him in this house.

You sigh softly and curl around Baby but sleep is fleeting in the unfamiliar environment. You try to be good and stay put. You really do. But thirty minutes into your attempt, Baby gets up and starts scratching at the closed door. You call her back to bed but she just ignores you so you get up to let her out and watch her trot right up to Lee’s door to start scratching there. She must miss sleeping with her daddy.

You probably would, too.

You were sure he’d hear the little kitten whining outside of his door, but when he doesn’t answer you go to let her in. You start with a tentative knock before opening the door to his call.

Lee’s sitting on his bed in just his boxers, a lit cigarette in his hand. You know you should be more flustered but your body moves all on its own. It knows where home is. Lee doesn’t even say a word. He just opens his arms and accepts you into his lap as you press kisses to his lips. A bit chapped and he smelled of smoke but you knew you were right where you need to be.

“Nightmare?” Lee smirks as you pull away for air.

You smile and shake your head. “Your little girl missed you.”

“Can’t fuck with her routine.” Lee pulls you back into him. You didn’t know how much was actually wrong until you felt this right. Strong arms wrapped around you, cradled so delicately against a warm body. Your fingers cling to Lee’s shoulders while his hands encircle your waist. “Stay with me?” This was a question. A request really. One you can’t say no to. You nod once and curl back into him. He pulls you down into the bed, holding you tightly against him. Lee takes a last drag of his cigarette before putting it out and focusing solely on you.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted you in my bed,” Lee sighs, pressing his face into your shoulder. His stubble tickles your skin so pleasantly making you smile. You probably have an idea but you keep that to yourself as one of your fantasies plays out.

Here, comfort is easy to find. It feels right, smells right. It’s better than your own bed. Baby curls up on the pillow behind you. Her soft purrs lulling you as Lee strokes to back of your neck, his fingers tracing the top of your spine, exploring just a little under your borrowed shirt. Just enough to keep you warm and close. You let out a soft content sigh and fall asleep almost instantly.

Waking up is hard. You don’t remember sleeping so deeply. You attempt to detangle yourself from the unfamiliar sheets before you feel a body behind you. The events of the previous night flood back to your mind as you stretch and yawn. “Lee?” He hums softly, thwarting your attempt to sit up as he immediately pulls you back down against him.

You smile at his stubborn tiredness. “We have to get up.”

“We’re playing hooky,” he mumbles.

Hooky? Is the sheriff allowed to just take the day off? “What about me?” You laugh tiredly.

“What about ‘we’re’ don’t you understand?” Lee grumbles.

“Are you sure?” You ask in disbelief.

“Go back to sleep, momma.” Getting some extra rest did sound amazing. You turn over, giving your shoulder a break, and curl back up in Lee’s embrace. You rest your head on his warm chest, your fingers curling into the thick hair there. You close your eyes as your leg wraps over Lee’s hips. Sure, you could just fall back to sleep. Falling back asleep sounded amazing…

“Lee,” you whisper. He lets out another gruff hum. “I’ve never slept at a man’s house before.”

“Don’t tell me you’re a virgin,” he chuckles.

“No!” You quickly deny. “I’ve just never stayed over.”

A deep hum rumbles through his body. “Glad I could be your first.” You smile up at him and place a kiss on his lips. “One more,” he requests softly and you happily obliged. “Last one?” You giggle and kiss him again. “Can’t get enough of those pretty lips pretty girl.” You curl into his side and actually start to nod off.

For a moment.

Before Baby leaps onto the bed and lets out a questioning chirp.

“Now you’ve gone and woke the baby,” Lee accuses turning over to hold you with both arms.

“Me?” Your voice causes the kitten to let out a happy meow and jumps over Lee to lick your nose. “Oh! Baby!” You laugh pulling her from your face.

He yawns and squeezes you. “She never does that to me.”

“She’s happy her momma’s here,” you goad. Lee retaliates by spanking you softly. “Aren’t you so happy your mommy’s here? You don’t have to play with your mean old daddy,” you coo at the little kitten, stroking her stomach when she rolls over for pets.

Lee’s big hand runs over your stomach much more intimately than any other touch he’s given you. His thumb runs just under your breast sending heat radiating straight down to your pussy.

“If you two are busy playing,” his hand comes to a rest between your breasts as he rolls over you slightly, pinning you under him, “who’s gonna play with me?” You let out a soft gasp. Your hips lift to find any kind of friction for your core but your lack of panties makes that impossible.

Until Lee’s thigh fills that space. You let out a soft whimper as he grinds back against you.

“Do you need daddy to play with you, too, momma?” You can’t find your voice but you can nod. Lee kisses just behind your ear and you feel like you’re floating. “Let me hear you tell me.” He grinds a little harder against your fluttering core making your whine.

“I-I need you, daddy,” you whimper into the pillow.

His voice is a deep rumble through him as he nuzzles his face against your neck, nipping lightly at your ear lobe. “What do you need?”

Ugh! This should be criminal. His thumb strays to brush against your clothed nipple making you arch against him.

“Need you, Lee!” You cry out.

“That’s all you had to say.” You can hear the smile in his voice. “Since you’ve never stayed with a man then I’m guessing you’ve been missing out on the joys of mornin’ sex?”

“Uh-huh,” you whine, your hips gyrating against his thick thigh, taking what you need from him.

“Well, that’s one of the best games a man and a woman can play.” His fingers undo the top couple buttons of your borrowed pjs just enough for your bare cleavage to show through.

“When do we start, daddy?” You breathe. You’re so close. So fucking close. Lee can barely focus on anything but the way your hips move for him and you can’t focus on anything but the way he feels against you. “Oh fuck,” you groan as you cum against his thigh.

“Now,” Lee smiles watching you come apart before him. Your thighs constrict around his as you feel your high pulsing through you. Your whole body rolls slightly at how good it feels until a telltale bulge presses into you. You let out a soft, surprised chirp and roll your head to face him. Your hand finds his soft belly and travels lower and lower until you can palm his hard on.

Oh. He’s big.

You bite your lower lip and grip him through his boxers.

“Now, look who’s playing,” Lee grunts and sits up to press his boxers down. You unbutton your shirt the rest of the way before Lee notices. “Come here, beautiful.” He pulls you onto his lap and presses your shirt from your shoulders. “Gorgeous,” he sighs and palms your breasts.

“Me or my boobs?” You smile.

“Both.” You giggle and reach between your thighs to jack him off. He makes the most blissed out face. It’s gorgeous. You rub the bead of precum he produces over his tip and down his shaft and, God, you can’t wait for him to fill you up.

“You do have condoms, don’t you? Or do you really want another baby?”

“I’d love to have a baby with you,” Lee mutters pining you with those icy eyes. Your pussy flutters just thinking about him fucking you until you’re pregnant and completely full of him. “Top drawer.” He nods to one of the bedside tables and you shake yourself from your perverted thoughts. You climb over him to find them giving him the perfect view of your ass. He grips it roughly as you rummage through his beside table until you find what you’re looking for.

“I’m surprised you didn’t know exactly where they are,” Lee jokes as you reclaim his lap.

“I don’t go through your things,” you quickly deny.

“Then you’d have no idea where I put my spare car keys?”

“First drawer in the table by the door,” you recite quickly.

“Don’t go through my things, huh?” Your face heats after he catches you red handed but Lee only laughs at your embarrassment. “This is practically your house, momma. I’d expect you to know where everything is. Now, if we can get back to what we were doing,” he trails making you smile and focus back on his cock.

You roll the condom down his shaft as you continue to jack him off until he’s practically begging for you. Then you finally lift your hips to feel the bliss of his heavy cock filling you so perfectly.

“Fuck, daddy,” you whine as he stretches you.

“God, you’re tight,” Lee grunts. You hold yourself there with him deep inside of you as your body adjusts. You could live on this cock alone. You take a shuttering breath before finally meeting his gaze again. “Come ‘er, momma,” Lee groans pulling you down to his chest. He flips you onto your side and pulls your thigh over his hip once more. “Liked having you like this. Felt so good.” You start to rock your hips experimentally making Lee groan out your name. Your hips roll into his while he holds your ass, encouraging your pleasure, until you find that spot. Deep inside of you, there’s a little spot that you know will have you screaming in no time. You aim Lee’s tip there over and over leaving you a whining mess for him.

“Right there? Is that where you want me?” Lee asks with a small smile. You can only nod and push further into his chest. Lee chuckles at the mess you’ve made of yourself and can only think of how much more he’s going to ruin you.

He rolls you completely under him, his bulk a settling weight over you. Lee carefully arranges your thighs around him, placing them safely over his own.

Then he fucking destroys you.

You don’t know where you end and he begins but you know it’s perfect. Your voice comes out in sharp shouts at the peak of each of his thrusts. “That’s my girl,” Lee grunts as he rails into you. His movements so precise. So perfect. His weight, his hold on you. It’s all so good.

Lee presses a kiss you your lips to still your whimpers but you can’t help it, it feels so right. Your cries get louder as you feel that knot inside you get tighter and higher. One of your thighs hooks around his back while the other presses into his hips. Just a little more. Just a little deeper…

“Right there! Please, Lee! Right th-aaah ah ah ah!” You squeak as you cum undone. Your eyes flutter shut and stars dance behind you lids as waves of pleasure pulse through you.

You hips spasm into Lee’s sporadically as he chuckles breathlessly. “That good, momma?” You can only bite your lip and squirm under him in response. He presses his lips against yours once more, kissing you until you come back around and start kissing him back. Your hands cup his face pulling him into more kisses before wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

“You’re amazing, daddy,” you sigh contently against his lips.

He grins back at you before rolling back over on his back, pulling you with him. “Your turn.” You smile sheepishly at your chance to pleasure him.

“My turn,” you whisper. Your hands find his shoulders and lean over him, finding some leverage on your knees.

You bounce on his hips experimentally, feeling his girth drag against your walls until he’s back against that spot but this is for him…

You spread your legs a little wider to allow for his frame to fit a little more comfortably between them. Then you lean back, one hand resting somewhere near his knee while the other rubs his soft belly. Your hips loose another experimental wave before letting go and humping into him. It feels like he’s ripping you apart in such a good way. Lee’s hand finds your hip as he guides you slightly but you didn’t need much. You seemed to fit each other perfectly. Know each other carnally. Neither of you need much coaching. It all seemed to flow.

“Fuck, momma. That’s it. Little faster,” he spanks your thigh to egg you on.

“You like that, daddy?” You smile.

“I fucking love that,” Lee groans. You lean over him to press a kiss to his lips while you continue to ride him. Fuck he feels so heavy and good and right inside of you. You let out a soft moan.

So perfect.

His other hand wraps around you and starts to help you along, thrusting up into you and meeting your soft waves. Curses tumble from your lips every time he hits a particularly sensitive spot inside of you until it starts to feel like he’s aiming for it. Over and over until you’re like jello in his grip, holding on limply while he fucks you within an inch of your life.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, momma,” Lee groans.

“Please, Lee! I need you,” you babble, so close to your own breaking point.

“Gonna get you there,” he promises and his thrust get rougher and faster and he knows right where he needs to abuse you. Before you know it you’re gasping and tossing your head back in a silent scream as you cum around him.

“Shit,” Lee groans and quickly follows you, spilling his seed into the condom still buried inside of you. You both pant for air, watching each other as you glow in your after shocks.

Those bright blue eyes watch you, taking all of you in from your mussed hair to your soft curves. “You okay, momma?” Lee asks after catching his breath. You just nod and collapse into his warm chest. He chuckles softly and wraps his arms around you. “Fuck, you’re beautiful.”

“You’re beautiful,” you counter with a small smile burying your face in his chest. You could stay like this forever.

But Lee’s growling stomach says otherwise.

“I’ll go make us some breakfast.” You attempt to pull away but Lee keeps his grip on you.

“I’ll help,” he insists and help he does. Helps by swatting your behind under his borrowed shirt and helps by pressing kisses to your neck while you fry eggs and he really helps when he pulls down his pants and has you keep his cock warm for him while he eats. He’s such a good helper you think as he rails you against the dining room table after he finishes his breakfast.

Lunch are simple ham and cheese sandwiches after you choke on his cock and dinner is your pussy spread over the kitchen counter right before your roast finishes in the oven.

You really don’t want to leave but you didn’t have a change of clothes and living the rest of your life in Lee’s borrowed shirts didn’t seem practical. So Lee begrudgingly takes you home after a long day of hard work with his help.

“Where the hell have you been?” Your mother shouts the moment you set foot through the door, breaking you from the spell Lee put you under.

You freeze before you even have a chance to close the door behind you. “Get in this house before anyone else sees you running the streets!” You’re floored by the accusation but follow her direction and silently stepping into the house.

“Where are have you been?” She repeats a little more calmly but you know better. There’s a level of anger you’ve never met under that calm.

“I called and told you I’d be at Lee’s late.” Yesterday you don’t add and hope she forgets all about that by keeping your tone even.

“Lee’s?” You mother frowns. “That’s awfully familiar for the sheriff.”

“Oh my god,” you mutter under your breath. Were you really about to get yelled at because of this?

“Girl, you know I don’t allow that kind of back talk in my house. Now, you told me you’d be home late and then we never heard another word from you for an entire day! Where have you been?”

Oh boy.

“Well, it’s just that, mom. I lost track of time and stayed late so he had me stay for dinner and at that point it was so late he just told me to stay in the guest room. I didn’t want to call and wake the whole house…”

“I don’t care if you wake the whole neighborhood. I want to know where my daughters are once the sun sets.”

This is ridiculous.

“Mom, I’ve been in an entirely different state for the past six years,” you argue.

“As long as you’re under my roof, you’re under my rules! You could’ve been dead in a ditch! You could’ve been hanging!”

“Oh, mother! Honestly,” you sigh, stamping your foot lightly on the ground.

“To your room. Now.”

“I’m almost 30. You can’t just send me to my room,” you argue. “I’m only here to take care of you. Not to be treated like a child. I should be in California but I’m stuck here. For you. And as long as I’m here for you, I can do whatever I want outside of this house!”

Shock is written all over your mother’s face by your words. You’re shocked by your words. You’ve never talked back to your mother. The look of hurt and anguish on her face is heartbreaking.

You take a calming breath and move to sit on the couch across from her. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t speak to you that way.”

“No, you shouldn’t,” she agrees.

“I haven’t done anything to make it seem like I’ll make bad decisions in life, have I?” You ask the woman, resting your elbows on your knees tiredly. “I didn’t drop out of college, get pregnant, and work at a dinner. I’m not the one that needs to be policed. If I want to spend the night at my boss’s house, then you just have to trust me.”

She watches you for a moment. “What’s he like?” She finally questions.

You contemplate the question for a moment. “He’s very sweet. And so smart. We have a cat. Her name is Baby. He just wants to help people.”

“Was it good?” She laughs.

“Mother!” You cry out of embarrassment, covering your face.

“You can tell me,” she smiles. “He’s a good looking man. I may be sick but I still have eyes, girl.”

You regard her with a shy smile for a moment before deciding to answer. “It was amazing.” She cackles at your answer making you giggle. “I hear a lot of talk about white men but I’ve never heard anything about Europeans,” she trails.

“Alright, I’m not talking about this anymore,” you laugh and stand up. “What do you want for dinner?”

“What’d you make Lee?” Your face immediately heats as you spin away to the kitchen.

“Not talking about it!” You cry as you rush away.

You hum softly to the radio while sweeping. It was a hot day. The sun was working over time but you were enjoying the slight breeze from open windows and the freshly made lemonade and iced tea you conjured up this morning. But that wasn’t the only thing changing. Lee was taking Mondays off again and sometimes Fridays. You loved when he took Fridays off. Lee was always in such a good mood. You’d let yourself in and crawl into his bed and curl up next to his warm sleeping body. Sometimes he’d fuck you until you couldn’t think straight and sometimes you’d just sleep in and only get out of bed because of Baby’s screaming.

This morning was one of those fuck your brains out mornings.

It left you feeling like you were walking on a cloud. It always made it impossible to do actual work in this condition. Lee didn’t expect you to. He expected you to be his little house wife on days like this. To serve him food and ride his dick accordingly. And you were happy to oblige.

“This one’s about you, Baby,” you smile at the cat perched on the back of Lee’s couch as she watches the broom go back and forth. Desi Arnez’s voice crones through the speakers with one of the songs from the popular sitcom.

“There’s a brand new baby at our house, the nicest little gift we've ever had,” you sing along, dancing around the broom while Baby watches on in amusement.

You remain oblivious to a second set of eyes on you, watching you twirl gracefully around the living room. You’re so beautiful.

Lee waits until you’re facing away from him to make his move. He slinks up behind you and wraps his arms comfortably around your waist making you jump in surprise.

“Oh, Lee!” You giggle swatting his arm.

“Did I scare you, momma?” He chuckles before burying his face in your neck and dancing along with you. Your hands wrap over his while you sway to the music. He releases you into a turn before pulling you back into him. “I didn’t know you liked dancing,” Lee sighs into your skin.

“You never asked,” you smile.

“I should take you out.”

“That would imply that we’re actually dating.”

“Aren’t we?” He questions but you know it’s not really a question. This is something the two of you have yet to really flesh out. Dating meant marriage and marriage meant…

“You know I can’t stay here forever,” you remind the sheriff gently.

“Can’t you?” There’s another one of those fake questions. He knows you can’t. You have a passion beyond cleaning houses. You want to help people. “You can just move in here. I’ll take care of you. Give you whatever you want. Give you a baby.”

“We have a baby, Lee,” you smile sadly. He spins you in his grip to make you face him but you avoid his gaze.

“Look at me-“

“Lee.”

“I’ll talk to administrators over there-“

“Lee.”

“I’m the law around here and what I say goes-“

“Lee!”

“And I want you to stay!”

“I won’t work somewhere I’m not wanted!” You cry, finally looking up at him. “Every day will be an uphill battle and I don’t want to fight.”

“Not even for me?”

Shit.

That breaks you. You didn’t know how much of a hold he had on your heart until this moment. Could you leave him? Leaving him would mean one of the most devastating things in your life just happened. Could you live without his comfort? Without running home to him when you could no longer run home?

“I-I wish we could stay like this forever,” you whisper, dropping your head to his chest.

“I would never let you do it on your own. You know that. You’ll always have me. You just need to choose me, too.”

He makes it sound so simple. Like he can just go in and threaten an entire hospital and come out victorious. But you know better. That’s a fairy tale and the real world doesn’t work like that.

He holds you like that for a long moment. Long enough for Baby to come paw at your skirt to check on you.

“Your momma’s trying to get rid of us, little girl.” The kitten screams up at you as if she knows exactly what Lee’s talking about. Her giant blue eyes stare up at you expectantly. Just like her daddy’s.

“Lee,” you warn, not wanting to discuss it anymore.

“One date,” he asks. “I’ll come pick you up and we’ll dance all night. Then you can tell me to leave you alone and it will go back to me being your boss and nothing else.”

“But Lee-“

“It’s gotta end somewhere,” he argues. “We can’t keep playing house forever.”

Can’t we?

You got all dolled up under the scrutiny of your sister and mother. “Who are you going out with? Where are you going?” You just ignore them while blushing your cheeks. You don’t know why you’re getting so dressed up. Lee’s seen you at your worst and still seems to find something he likes. It was nice knowing you didn’t have to look your best for him. That was the kind of thing you wanted in a man.

There were a lot of things about Lee you wanted…

But you couldn’t stay here.

Right?

You can’t stay here?

It’s backward and racist. You have a one way ticket to California. A brand new place built on different principles. You could finally kiss this bible belt southern town goodbye for good. And that’s exactly what you want?

You’d find someone your age. Maybe a lawyer or a doctor.

But they wouldn’t be Lee.

There’s a knock at the front door while you apply your powder numbly.

“I’ll get it,” you sister sighs and makes her way to the door. You hear Lee’s deep drawl and you’re instantly drawn in. His voice, his laugh.

“You’re in love.”

Your gaze snaps up to your mother in the mirror’s reflection. There’s a smug look on her face that says it all. “You’re in love and you’re scared.” She shrugs with a soft laugh. “The heart wants what the heart wants. Stop fighting it, girl.” She leaves to go greet Lee and tell him you’ll be out in a minute.

Tears start to fill your eyes. Is it that obvious? Are you in love? How were you supposed to go out and have a good time with all of this on your mind? A tear escapes your control as you hear your mom directing him back to your room. You attempt to quickly wipe it away but he sees you just as you dab at your eye with a tissue.

“You that upset to go out with me?” Lee jokes, leaning against the door frame. He looks so nice in a blue dress shirt and slacks. Like your own personal dream. You just want him to hold you but you don’t want depend on him. Right? You want to be your own woman but you want to be his so badly…

He gives your reflection a once over. “You look fucking gorgeous, momma. Too beautiful to be crying.”

“I’m just feeling a little lost,” you admit after sniffling softly.

“Well, finish up. We’ll talk in the car.” You nod slightly and attempt to finish you makeup quickly while your family entertains Lee.

This is as good as it’s going to get. You give yourself one last once over. You brush a hand down your blush pink dress and make sure your curls are perfectly placed. Some part of the back of your mind reminds you that you need to look good on Lee’s arm and that not just anyone can go out with the sheriff. You need to put on a smile and act like everything is-

You quickly squash that notion. Lee’s never expected any more of you than to take care of yourself, him, and Baby. That wasn’t going to change now.

You take a deep breath and step into the living room. Lee is instantly on his feet. “There’s my girl.” Your face heats as you look away.

“You mind your manners and have a good time,” your mother bids placing a kiss on your cheek before Lee wraps his arm around you.

“She’s in good hands,” he promises and leads you out to his car. “We have a reservation to make,” Lee sighs opening the door for you.

You give him a dubious look when he settles into the driver’s seat. “None of the restaurants around here need a reservation,” you frown skeptically.

“We ain’t eating around here,” he smirks. “Come here, momma. What’s going on in that pretty head?” You smile slightly up at him before sliding across the bench to sit at his side. His strong arm wraps around you as you rest your hand on his belly. “Or we can just cuddle if you don’t feel like talking.” He rubs his hand up and down your arm comfortingly. You don’t exactly feel like talking but it seems like you have a bit of a drive ahead of you. He peels out of your neighborhood and on to the main road as the radio crones on with big band music.

“I want to talk,” you whisper. Lee only pulls his hand away for a moment to turn off the radio before focusing back on you. His hand finds your waist and pulls you a little closer. “I-I don’t want to stay here, Lee. You know that. But I love you. I can’t see having to go on without you. I don’t want to go on without you.”

A soft hum rumbles through him before he speaks. “Then what are we going to do about that?”

“I’ll apply for the local hospital again, I guess.”

“You guess?” Lee jokes. “Or you can be my little stay at home wife. Pretend you’re in California all you want. I’ll plant some palm trees and put in a pool. You can take care of Baby all day. She would love that.”

You laugh softly. “Maybe I’ll have to be your own personal nurse. Take care of my big strong man when he’s sick.”

“Will you dress up in one of those skimpy little outfits?”

“For you, of course.”

You reach up to press a kiss to his cheek but he pulls you back for a quick kiss. “I love you so much, momma. I’d do anything for you. Don’t ever forget that.” You nod and let out a little giggle. “Now, give me another kiss.” You happily oblige. “One more. So fucking good for me. Now sit back before I have to stop this car and remind you why you love me so much.” You let out a laugh and curl back into him.

A little over an hour later, he stops at a very popular looking club in Columbus.

“We came all the way out here to go dancing?” You smile, scooting across the car bench to look out the window.

“The clubs in town are stale as hell,” Lee sighs and moves to get out of the car.

“Wait!” You cry, stopping him as the valet reaches his door. “Thank you for this, daddy.” You press another kiss to his lips that quickly turns into a show for the valet.

“Save some of that energy for later,” Lee smiles and presses a kiss to your forehead before finally stepping out of the car.

You expected to get all kind of looks: the sheriff out with that little black girl that ran off to the big city and had to come crawling back with her tail between her legs…alright, no one’s ever said that but you know someone’s thinking it. Maybe. But this far from home…

No one knows you here. They don’t even seem to care that you’re different races. It was…nice. You giggle softly as Lee dips you only to pull you back up into a soft kiss.

“I’m really glad I said yes,” you smile as he holds you close.

“So much for all those tears,” Lee chuckles making you roll your eyes. That was one time. “I gotta talk to you,” Lee mutters against your lips before pulling you back to your table. “I didn’t know a good time to tell you this but I talked to one of the managers at the hospital.”

“Ugh, Lee! I don’t want to think about that drama! Can’t we just enjoy our night?” You whine taking a drink of your cocktail.

“You think I’d tell you bad news right now? I’m trying to get laid tonight.” You can’t help but laugh at him. “Got you another interview.”

“But we just talked about this,” you argue in disbelief. You literally just told him you’d stay less than an hour ago in the car.

“I might have done some shit behind your back,” the sheriff admits. When you let out an annoyed huff but he quickly continues. “I just knew you wouldn’t leave me.”

“So sure of yourself.” You roll your eyes at him. “And what’d you do to get this interview? Hold him up at gun point?”

“Somethin’ like that,” Lee drawls, leaning back in his chair with a smug look on his face. You just smile and shake your head at him. “All we did was talk. I promise no one got hurt. No threats were made.”

“Really?”

“Why would I lie to you, momma?”

“You’d certainly arrange things without telling me,” you pout but then give him a once over, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. He is doing this for you, too. He knew how hard it was being away from family while you were in school. You loved your independence but you liked the comfort of having a steady place that’s home. He wanted to be that home. Your steady place.

You don’t want anything else in the world besides that.

“I guess you’re getting laid tonight.”

He gives you a shit eating grin that tells you all you need to know before leaning back on the table. “How do you plan on thanking me?”

“What would you like, daddy?” You ask innocently, looking at him through your lashes. “I can suck your big, fat dick? Or keep you warm all night? Or maybe…”

“Maybe?”

“Maybe I’ll let you fuck a baby into me.”

“Fuck, momma,” Lee groans before adjusting his pants not so subtly. “You done here? I gotta get you home.”

“Maybe we should get a hotel,” you suggest thinking about how long the drive is.

“Car’s free,” Lee grins pulling you from your seat and toward the door.

It doesn’t take him long to find a dark alley and it takes you absolutely no time find yourself on your knees at his side choking on his cock.

“Fuck, momma,” Lee groans spanking your ass as it wiggles in the air. “Didn’t know you had all that in you.” You let out a satisfying hum as you swallow him making him moan. You feel his fingers hitching up your dress inch by inch. He spanks you again once he clears the fabric and grips your cheek through your panties. “That’s it. My perfect girl.” He slides his hand under the fabric to find your slit already soaking for him. “You want my cock, momma? You’re so wet for me.” You nod as much as you can around him and Lee grips the roots of your hair, dragging your face up to meet his with a sloppy kiss. You moan into his mouth as you cup his face with your hands, feeling the rough stubble from the day.

Lee lets out a soft grunt as he repositions you across the car bench. His face nuzzles kisses against your neck. “I love you so fucking much. You know that, momma?” He mutters. His finger trace the band of your underwear before slipping them down your legs. You can only whimper as your mind races to how he’s going to destroy you.

“Need you, daddy.”

Those bright blue eye flick up to you, pinning you with his gaze. “You got me,” he assures you. You hear his belt buckle and moments later he’s stretching your core to its max. He’s so big and fills you so perfectly. You can feel every bump and vein and it’s so right. You’ve had sex with him regularly but this time felt special. You’ve never taken a man raw before. You felt ready.

Lee’s hips start to thrust into you erasing everything from your mind but him. He knows you so well that he doesn’t need to search for that spot. He just goes straight for it and has you screaming for him. Your stockinged foot finds the steering wheel for a bit of leverage so you can thrust back into him.

His hand grips the back of your thigh, helping you out while he folds you into yourself just so he can get a little deeper. You curse as he grinds against that spot mercilessly. His weight is so comfortable on top of you. You always want this. You want him by your side, to wake up next to him every day, to grow old with him. And as he gets you so close to your peak, you know you can’t live without him. “Lee! Fuck! P-please! I’m so close!”

A soft chuckle emits from the man before he presses a kiss to your lips. “You’re so fucking cute when you’re falling apart for me. Let go. I’ll catch you.”

You nod vigorously. Your eyes squeeze shut as your focus is set on your core and how much pressure he’s putting on you.

Whimpers falls from your lips as your hips sputter into his smooth thrusts, chasing your high.

“Please, please, please, please,” you chant just loud enough for Lee to hear.

“Begging for it now?” Lee laughs. His hips snap into yours now, giving you exactly what you need.

You’re a whining whimpering mess when you finally cum. Stars shoot across your closed lids as you try to smoother your face between the bench and Lee’s kisses.

“Good girl. Always my good girl,” Lee praises. Your body clenches around him at his words and he instantly knows something new about you.

He pulls away from your kiss covered jaw to watch you with an amused look. Your body is still writhing with pleasure under him and he can’t wait to give you move.

“You like being my good girl, momma? Wanna keep me happy?”

You moan at his words, humping against him, wanting him to move again but he continues to grind into the spot driving you crazy.

“Use your words,” he chuckles brushing a mussed curl from your forehead.

“I-I wanna be your good girl,” you whimper, finally cracking your eyes open to meet his gaze.

“Then you’ll make me happy and stay here?”

You stare at him for a beat before you nod. “I’ll stay.”

A smile spreads across his lips before he gets back to destroying you.

“Fuck,” he groans softly, your core keeps squeezing him mercilessly but you can’t control it. He can’t control it either as he slams into you despite your grip on him. You need him so bad. You need him to make you his wife. You need to take care of him. You need him to take care of you. You’ve never needed anything or anyone so bad in your adult life.

“You feel amazing, momma. Made just for me, you know that?”

“I’m yours,” you cry, your head tossed back against the seat so close to your peak again.

“All mine,” Lee sighs. “You gonna cum with me?”

“Uh huh!” You exhale. “Wanna be your good girl! Wanna cum for you, daddy!”

“Fuck!” Lee growls gripping your thigh a little tighter. The thought that it might bruise ghosts through your mind but you welcome it. He’s leaving his mark on you. Claiming you. It just makes you hotter. Tighter. Wetter.

“That’s it, momma. Cum for me,” he begs, his hips snapping into yours now.

So close. So close. Just a little- “Lee-eh-eh-eak!” You scream as you cum, spilling onto his stomach and the base of his cock. Lights flash behind your lids and you’re left a moaning mess as he fills you to the brim. You feel his seed leak past your lips to pool between you but he stays buried deep as ribbons of cum paint your insides, ready to do it’s job and make sure you’re full of him for the next nine months.

Of course, you know that its a relatively safe day for unprotected sex.

But part of you hopes it took.

Lee’s breaths come in quiet huffs as you writhe under him. He stays buried in you while he slowly softens, giving you just that little bit of extra friction. “You alright, momma?” He smiles before pressing a kiss to your lips. You chase after them blindly as he pulls away, not ready to open your eyes. No ready for the euphoria to end.

“More kisses,” is your only response and Lee happily obliges. He bombards you with kisses until you’re both gasping for air and space. Lee lets out a soft sigh and sits up, pulling you up with him. He easily slips from you and you contract, attempting to keep all of his essence inside.

“Fuck,” Lee chuckles seeing his handy work between your legs. “Look at you just leaking with cum. You’re gonna make me hard again.” You smile and glance away, embarrassed. “Let me clean you up.” Lee finds his handkerchief in his back pocket and gently cleans up your core. “Relax or you’ll be holding it the entire drive,” he jokes. You let out a soft sigh and attempt to push out what you’ve been holding on to. “Good girl,” Lee praises making you giggle and bury your face in your hands. “Shit. If I knew that had so much power over you, I’d have said since day one.”

“You did once pretty early on,” you admit. “I fell asleep with my fingers in me that night.”

Lee laughs softly and is such a nice noise. You want to hear it forever.

“Well, shit! Tell me next time you need to jack off to something I said. I wanna watch.” You giggle even harder leaning back against the door as Lee finds your panties. He slips them back up your legs and over your hips so gently. He knows by now that he has to be careful with you after fucking you into a stupor. You watch as he slips on your shoes and places a soft kiss on each ankle.

He’s perfect.

“Lee?” He hums softly before looking up at you. “I love you.”

He just smirks back at you. “I love you more.”

You doze at Lee’s side as he drives you back to town. He hasn’t decided if he’ll take you home or to his place. You don’t care either way. You mom knows not to wait up. But you hope he’ll take you home. His home. Where your Baby is. And where your man is. Your fingers grip his thigh in your sleep, trying to keep him close even in your dreams. Your little hand is so close to his cock he starts to get stiff again.

He chuckles softly so he doesn’t wake you. “Guess you're coming home with me, huh?”

You wait in the sterile administration room of Mead General. Lee pretty much had to drop you off at the entrance to make you come. No amount of convincing could calm your nerves that morning. You fiddle with the new ring on your finger in an attempt to calm them.

The engagement ring Lee gave you.

It was enormous. You could practically see yourself in the diamond. It wasn’t you at all but Lee insisted on it. Nothing less than perfect for his girl.

Who knew it would become such a comfort.

A secretary calls your name and you gather up your resume and credentials to go through this torture one more time.

“Head up, momma. You’re the sheriff’s fiancée now. I need you to act like it.” Lee’s voice echos in your mind from when he dropped you off. You roll your shoulders back and add a little more confidence to your step.

Here goes nothing.

Lee leans against his car as he waits. It’s far too hot to sit in there and bake so he found a spot under a tree to wait for you. He glances up from lighting a cigarette to see the hospital security guard walking up to him like a man on a mission.

“Shit,” Lee sighs. The last thing he wanted to deal with was the public.

“Mr. Sheriff, Sir,” the man grins and holds out his hand.

Lee puts on a smile and tucks his sunglasses into his shirt pocket. “Sir,” Lee greets. “How can I help you?”

“Ronald, Sir. I just wanted to thank you for all that you do for our town. Keeping the social order and all.”

Lee can’t help but cock his brow at the phrase. Keeping the social order?

“This is one of the few places not assaulted with progressive ideas. Separate but equal will always prevail.”

He hadn’t enforced Jim Crow is over a year. Had nobody seemed to notice law enforcement stopped responding to their ‘coloreds using whites only facilities’ calls? They probably had their heads too far up their asses.

Lee gives the man a once over. “Right.” He looks up to notice you leaving the hospital. He sees you stop and glance around for him before he decides to go get you.

“What’s that little negro doing in there?” Ronald asks immediately noticing you. Apparently he wasn’t that great at his job if he never registered that you were there.

Lee smirks at your lithe form in the pencil skirt and blouse you picked out for your interview. He couldn’t wait to get you home to peel them off of you.

“I’ll handle this,” Lee sighs before stamping out his cigarette butt and making his way toward you.

You instantly light up at the sight of him, you almost fall into his arms in relief at a friendly face.

“How’d it go, momma?”

“I felt like they were interrogating me,” you breathe, letting out a soft laugh.

“Trying to scare you off,” Lee sighs. “What’d they say?”

You smile up at him excitedly. “I got it!”

“That’s my girl,” Lee grins. You notice his hands placed firmly on his hips but continues to regard you with beaming pride.

You cock a brow at him. “What are you up to out here?”

Lee bites his bottom lip, trying to hold back a laugh. “I gotta tell you something first. I know I threw a fit and started all that mess about that old junk-stuff in the basement,” he corrects himself with a soft eye roll.

“Oh, Lee,” you coo softly at the start of his apology. “That was so long ago. I’m not upset-”

“Just let me finish,” he interrupts. “I’m glad you made me keep it. I want our kids to see it. To know where they came from.”

You smile up, suddenly so proud of this man that was about to become you husband. You prepare to leap into his arms but he stops you with a gentle hand. He gestures toward the elderly security guard standing cross armed in the shade. “Now, back to what I was up to. That man over there thinks you’re up to no good.”

You burst into watery laughter at his words, attempting to hold back your happy tears long enough to let Lee play his joke. He really does pick the worst times to get sentimental. “What’s he gonna do? I work here now. Should we give him a show? Make his day?”

Lee’s smirk turns into a grin. “Really play it up for me, alright? Don’t hold back.”

You nod and stifle a giggle as Lee grips your forearm and attempts to drag you to his car. “Unhand me, you-you side burned Neanderthal!” You cry while flailing aimlessly. Lee stops to look back at you. “Too much?”

“That kinda hurt, momma.”

“Sorry,” you giggle glancing away, hoping your little character break isn’t caught. “I didn’t do anything! I had an interview! I swear!” You continue loudly, attempting to garnish attention.

“Anything you say can be used against you, ma’am, and I happen to know on good authority that this hospital doesn’t hire colorereds.”

“Are you calling me a liar?”

“If the shoe fits.”

“What are you arresting me for?” You counter, fruitlessly attempting to tug out of his grip.

“Lying to an officer, resisting arrest, trespassing, belligerent behavior-”

“Belligerent?” You bark.

“Just stating the facts,” Lee smirks, proud to deliver a low blow to return yours.

“Oh, you pig!” You hiss, just as Lee gets you to his car.

“Tell me how you really feel,” Lee sighs pressing your back into front passenger door. Those glaciers blue eyes meet yours and you just want to dive into them. They’re perfect.

“Well, sheriff daddy,” you whisper just for him. His hands circle your waist as he crowds you into the tiny space he made for you. It’s perfect. “Truth is, I’m really grateful for you. I wouldn’t have this opportunity without you.”

“Anything to keep you with me, momma.” Then Lee shocks the entire crowd of hospital spectators and presses a soft kiss to your lips. You smile against them and wrap your arms around his shoulders as he pulls you into a tighter embrace. “I love you,” Lee whispers against your lips.

“I love you,” you smile and press back into him. He’s perfect.

——————————————————

Master List