#she’s like I got this place for you! it’s all for you! you’ve done so much and this is all just here for you

[shokocide]

HEY, EMO BOY! - CHOSO KAMO

summary. Choso doesn’t do distractions. But then you walk into his show and ruin his focus with one look. And now, he’s handing you his guitar, his heart, maybe more. And baby, you haven’t even seen what those fingers can really do.

word count. 10.5k (i got a lil carried away)

content. mdni fem! reader, bassist! choso, mutual pining, heavy tension, choso is a tease (and so down bad), really lovey-dovey shi like bro's not even emo, pet names, smut, fingering, oral (fem rec.), p in v, mating press, praise, creampie, slight overstim, aftercare

author's note. saw this fanart and started ovulating on demand.

"Come on, it'll be fun," Shoko says, tugging on your sleeve with the persistence of a woman who knows you have no other plans. "You like music. You like hot guys. This is both."

You squint at her, unconvinced. "You said that last time and we ended up at some dude’s garage while he rapped about capitalism."

She grins. “And it was unforgettable.”

“You spilled beer on my shoes.”

“And I’ve had character development after that.”

You roll your eyes, but she already knows she's won. She’s practically vibrating with excitement as she drags you through the dimly lit alley that opens into an even dimmer basement venue—graffiti-tagged walls, sticker-covered speakers, the scent of cigarettes and something vaguely fruity in the air.

The lights are low, the crowd humming with quiet energy, and the stage is set but empty—just a drum kit, a couple mics, and a bass propped against its amp like it’s waiting for someone.

“You’re gonna love them,” Shoko whispers, already pulling out her phone to snap photos. “The music’s sick. And the bassist—”

You blink at her.

“The bassist,” she repeats, dramatically placing a hand over her heart. “Tall, broody, pretty eyes. Never says a damn word on stage but plays like he’s in pain.”

You scoff. “You’ve got issues.”

“Just wait,” she says. “You’re not ready.”

And you’re not.

Because when the band finally comes on stage and the lights cut through the haze, your eyes lock onto him—tall, dark, dressed in all black with his bass slung low, rings glinting on his fingers, and a half-lidded stare like he’s seeing ghosts.

And when he starts playing? Oh. Yeah. You’re done for.

The lights dim, bathing the room in moody blue and red hues. The crowd hushes—just for a moment—then the first chord explodes through the speakers. It’s loud, raw, electric, vibrating through the floor and straight up your spine.

You don’t flinch.

You should. The guy next to you does. Shoko’s already swaying to the beat like she’s been here a thousand times. But you? You’re frozen—entranced.

Not by the music. Not really.

By him.

The bassist, standing off to the left like he doesn’t crave the spotlight, like he’s content letting the others take the lead. But he’s the one you see. The one who owns the stage.

He’s tall and he’s wearing a loose black button-up, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, the top few buttons left undone to tease just enough of his pale, sculpted chest. The stage lights catch on the gleam of sweat on his collarbones, highlighting every sharp angle and subtle flex of muscle as he moves with the rhythm. His fingers dance over the bass strings with practiced ease, and that’s when you notice it—apart from the black nail polish, each one is tattooed with a letter: C-H-O-S-O.

His long, dark hair is loose, falling in waves to the base of his neck, the ends brushing over his collar. The soft purple eyeshadow dusting his eyelids makes his deep-set eyes pop, casting shadows that only add to his sharp features. A bold tattoo cuts across the bridge of his nose, stark against his pale skin.

His brows are furrowed, mouth set in a hard, concentrated line, and his fingers—god, his fingers—they dance over the strings like he was born with a bass in his hands. There’s something hypnotic about the way he plays. Focused. Intense. Like the world doesn’t exist outside of this moment.

You don’t even realize you’re staring until Shoko elbows you lightly. “Told you,” she shouts in your ear, grinning like the smug little shit she is.

You nod, but your eyes don’t move. You can’t look away. It’s like you’ve been put under some kind of spell.

And then—then—mid-song, his head lifts just slightly. His gaze cuts through the haze and crowd and colored lights, and lands right on you. You swear it. A spark of something sharp and electric zips down your spine.

He doesn’t smile. Doesn’t nod. Just holds your gaze for a breath longer than necessary before he looks away, like he felt it too.

Like he knew.

Like the music wasn’t the only thing pulling strings tonight.

The band keeps playing, song after song bleeding into one another, but you barely register any of it.

Your eyes keep straying to him. Choso—at least, you think that’s his name, judging by the ink on his fingers. Fitting, really. It lingers in your head like a low bassline: heavy, addictive.

At one point, you swear he looks at you again.

Really looks.

And even if it’s just for a second, it feels like a live wire pressed to your skin.

You down the rest of your drink to keep yourself from combusting.

Shoko leans in and shouts something in your ear over the music—probably the band’s name or some fun fact about the drummer—but your eyes are locked on him. You nod absently, your smile weak, dazed, because how the hell are you supposed to listen to anyone else when he’s up there, commanding your every thought?

By the time the band wraps up their final song, you’re already craning your neck for a better look. You don't even realize you're moving toward the stage until Shoko’s hand snags your wrist.

"Where are you going?"

You blink, startled like you’ve been caught red-handed. "I—I don’t know."

But you do.

You’re hoping to get closer. Maybe he’ll notice you again.

Maybe he already has.

-

You find yourself outside the venue before you even realize what you’re doing—leaning against the brick wall, half hidden in the shadows, heart hammering like you’d just finished a set yourself. The crisp night air cools your skin, but it does nothing to quiet the heat bubbling beneath it.

You tell yourself you just needed some air.

That’s all.

Totally not waiting around like some groupie for a guy you don’t even know.

The door creaks open behind you, and a familiar pair of boots crunches against gravel. Shoko squints at you suspiciously.

“You good?” she asks, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it with a quick flick. “You just disappeared.”

You shrug, too casual. “Yeah. Just needed a breather.”

She takes a drag, exhales slow. “Right. A breather. After not dancing and not drinking that much.”

You shoot her a side-eye. “Do you always interrogate people for wanting fresh air?”

“Only when they’ve been acting weird since the bassist took the stage.” She raises an eyebrow. “You’re not slick, y’know.”

You scoff, glancing away before she can catch the way your face warms. "I don't know what you’re talking about."

Shoko chuckles like she definitely knows what she’s talking about, but bless her, she doesn’t press it. Just smirks, gives your arm a little nudge. “He was hot, though.”

You give a noncommittal hum, eyes scanning every shadowed corner, every rusted doorway, hoping—just hoping—you might catch another glimpse of him. Choso. You’re almost certain that’s his name. It suits him. Dark. Sharp.

You won’t tell her, of course, but—yes.

Yes, this was fun.

Yes, she was absolutely right to drag you here.

Yes, the bassist was fine as hell and maybe, just maybe, you’ve developed the tiniest, stupidest little crush on a guy whose voice you haven’t even heard yet.

But god, you want to.

Even just once.

A glimpse. A moment. Anything.

And just when you think it’s time to give up, to stop being delusional and head home—

The door swings open again.

And this time, it’s him.

Panic.

Real, irrational, full-body panic.

Because there he is. Standing a few feet away. In the flesh. The bassist.

Loose black button-up clinging to his frame, sleeves still rolled up from the show, revealing forearms that shouldn’t be legal. The glint of his rings catching the light. A faint sheen of sweat still clinging to his collarbone—god, you can see it because the top few buttons are still undone, teasing just enough pale skin to keep you up at night.

And his eyes—

His eyes are rimmed with that soft, dusty lavender, and they’re looking straight at you.

You glance side to side like you might Houdini yourself out of this moment. Maybe if you ran fast enough, you could avoid embarrassing yourself beyond repair. Maybe if you—

Shoko bumps your shoulder, casual and smug. “Now’s your chance.”

“Chance for what?” you hiss, heart thudding in your ears. “To spontaneously combust? To make an idiot out of myself?”

But it’s too late.

Because before you can overthink your next twelve moves or plan a strategic escape—

He’s walking toward you.

Slow, calm, confident.

Like he knows what he’s doing to you.

Before you can say something completely unhinged, like “your bass playing did something weird to my hormones”, you feel Shoko shift beside you.

You whip your head toward her, silently begging for assistance, for backup, for escape. But she just smirks, looking between the two of you like she already knows exactly how this night’s gonna go.

“Well,” she says with a wink, already turning on her heel. “I’ll leave you to it.”

Your eyes nearly bulge out of your skull. “Shoko. No. Shoko, wait—SHOKO.”

But she’s already walking away like she didn’t just abandon you to the mercy of the hottest man you’ve ever laid eyes on.

And now—

Now he’s standing right in front of you.

He smells like sweat and incense and something dark—something addictive.

“You waited,” he says, voice lower than expected, rich. His lips curl, just barely. “Were you hoping for an autograph… or something else?”

You blink.

He knows.

Your mouth opens. Then closes. Then opens again.

An autograph? Something else? What the hell does something else even mean—wait, you know what it means, OH GOD—

“I—I wasn’t waiting— I mean, I was, but not like—like in a weird way or anything!” you blurt, the words tumbling out like a panicked avalanche. “Not that liking your music is weird. I mean, it was good! Really good. You were good. Not in that way, I mean—not that you wouldn’t be—oh my God—”

You slap a hand over your face.

Abort mission. Let the ground open up. End scene.

When you peek through your fingers, he’s just watching you, amused, head tilted slightly to the side.

Then—he chuckles. Actually chuckles.

It’s low and quiet and kind of devastating.

“I was right,” he murmurs, voice all honeyed steel. “Cute.”

You make a high-pitched noise that cannot be classified as human.

And Choso—Choso just leans in slightly, lowering his voice like he’s offering a secret.

“Relax. I don’t bite.” A beat. “Unless you want me to.”

You definitely stop breathing.

Your brain is just a dial-up tone as you stare at him, stunned into silence, because did he actually just say that? He did. He really did. And he’s still looking at you like he’s waiting for your answer.

But when you open your mouth, what comes out is: “I—uh—yeah. I mean no. I mean—I don’t know what I mean.”

He grins. Not a smirk. A real, soft little grin, like he likes the mess you’ve become.

“Wanna get some air?” he asks, jerking his chin toward the alleyway beside the venue, quieter now that the band’s done and the crowd’s thinned.

You nod way too fast.

So you end up outside, standing under the faded neon of the venue sign, arms crossed to hide how jittery you are. Choso leans against the wall beside you, lighting a cigarette. The glow flares against his sharp cheekbones, his lashes casting shadows on his skin.

“So,” he says, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. “You liked the set?”

“Yeah,” you say, trying not to look at his hands. His tattooed fingers. “You were… really good.”

He hums, clearly amused. “Still not in that way?”

You bury your face in your hands again.

He laughs under his breath, then nudges your shoulder with his. “You got a name, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart. 

Oh, how you were so very fucked.

You tell him your name. And when he repeats it softly, your knees almost give out.

Then he offers, “I’m Choso, by the way.”

Like it’s a gift.

And before the night ends, he asks if you’re coming to the next gig.

“Only if you’re playing,” you manage to say.

To which he replies, “I’ll be there if you are.”

-

shoko: hello?? where are you???

shoko: ANSWER ME

shoko: sigh

shoko: i didn’t want it to come to this but you leave me no choice

shoko: i’m checking your location.

shoko: GIRL WHAT ARE YOU STILL DOING THERE

shoko: 2 missed calls

shoko: you better give me answers the second you're online...or else.

you: dot dot dot

shoko: WHAT. HAPPENED.

you: emergency phone call

shoko: 🧍‍♀️

shoko: you’re a terrible liar

you: ok but like. 

you: it wasn’t a lie. it was an emergency. a hot boy emergency

shoko: OH MY GOD. 

shoko: OH MY GOD. 

shoko: OH MY GODDDDD.

you: he talked to me

you: HE TALKED TO ME SHOKO

shoko: AND???

you: and i said dumb shit

you: and he still talked to me

you: and i think i blacked out at one point??

you: but like. the good kind

shoko:YOU’RE TELLING ME MYSTERIOUS HOT BASSIST MAN TALKED TO YOU AND YOU LIVED???

you: barely

you: i think i ascended actually

shoko: you’re telling me you were about to dip and then HE approached YOU????

you: he remembered me from the front row 😭

you: called me cute 😭😭

you: asked for my name 😭😭😭

you: CALLED ME SWEETHEART 😭😭😭😭

shoko: …girl.

shoko: i don’t wanna be dramatic

shoko: but i might start planning your wedding

you: pls help i’m still outside the venue trying not to combust

you: he said he’d see me again if i came to the next gig

you: SHOKO WHAT IF I GO TO EVERY GIG UNTIL I DIE

shoko: yeah bestie we’re in our groupie era now

-

You show up a whole forty minutes before the doors even open—Shoko said she’d meet you later, but you’re already leaning against the building like a total loser. Or an over zealous fan. Same thing, really.

You're debating if you should take a walk to kill time when the door swings open, and out steps him. Black button-up, sleeves rolled up again, a few buttons undone, and that familiar purple eyeshadow hugging his tired eyes. His lip quirks up the second he sees you.

“Excited to see me?” he asks, cocking his head as he strolls over. His voice is low, teasing—but not unkind.

Your face goes up in flames. “What—n-no. I mean yes. I mean—Shoko said she’d meet me later and I didn’t wanna be late, obviously.”

He hums, clearly amused. “Mhm. Obnoxiously early, huh?”

“Fashionably early,” you grumble, and he laughs, like you’re the most entertaining thing he’s heard all day.

Then he nods his head toward the door. “C’mon. I’ll introduce you to the guys.”

You blink. Wait. Right now??

You glance down at your outfit—cute enough for the gig, maybe not cute enough to meet him again, let alone his entire band. But he’s already walking, and you’re a fool if you don’t follow.

The door creaks open, and you’re hit with the low hum of conversation, faint music playing from someone’s phone, and the scent of sweat and cologne. Your heart’s going a mile a minute.

“Yo,” Choso calls, and two heads turn.

The tall white-haired man draped across the couch offers a lazy grin. “Oh? Who’s this?”

Choso leans against the doorframe and jerks a thumb toward you. “She’s the one I was talking about.”

Your eyes widen. Talking about?? Since when???

“Ooooh,” the other guy drawls from where he’s fiddling with a drumstick, hair tied back and gaze sharp as ever. “So this is her.”

“Shut up,” Choso mutters, but there’s a hint of pink dusting his ears. He looks back at you, eyes soft. “That’s Satoru—he never shuts up. And that’s Suguru. Don’t let him fool you—he’s worse.”

“Lies and slander,” Satoru says with a wink.

You’re frozen. Do you wave? Speak? Die on the spot?

“Hi,” you say, awkwardly.

Suguru offers a small nod. “Nice to finally meet you.”

Finally???

Satoru leans forward with a devilish grin. “Choso wouldn’t shut up about you, y’know?”

Choso visibly tenses. “Go bother someone else.”

But it’s too late—you’re already flushed to your ears, and Satoru’s howling with laughter.

“You’re cute,” he tells you. “You can stick around.”

You glance at Choso, and he gives you the smallest smile. Like you belong here.

And for the first time—you think maybe you do.

He walks ahead a bit, glancing over his shoulder as he gestures toward the sound booth. “That’s Nao, our sound tech. She’s the only reason we don’t sound like trash onstage.”

Nao waves without looking up from her monitor, and you awkwardly lift a hand back. Choso chuckles under his breath.

He keeps going, showing you the light setup, where they stash backup guitars, even the vending machine he’s pretty sure is haunted. Every person you pass gives you that look—oh, so this is the girl.

Your fingers twist nervously around the strap of your bag. It’s not like they’re being unfriendly. If anything, everyone’s nice. Welcoming, even. But still—you can’t shake the nerves bubbling in your chest.

You feel his gaze before you hear his voice.

“Nervous?” he asks, quiet and low.

You blink up at him. He’s standing close now, one hand tucked into the pocket of his jacket, watching you like he’s not sure if he’s scaring you or if you’re just shy.

You swallow. “A little.”

His mouth twitches—almost a smile. “You don’t have to be. Everyone’s chill.”

You nod, but you know the tension is still written all over your face.

And then—he reaches out. Just a light touch to your wrist. “Hey. I asked you here ‘cause I wanted you to come. Not to freak you out.”

His voice is soft now, just for you.

You manage a sheepish smile. “Sorry. It’s just… new.”

He shrugs, lips curling slightly. “Yeah. But I’m not that scary, right?”

You meet his eyes, and the look he gives you—teasing but warm—makes your stomach flip.

“…Not yet,” you murmur.

And he laughs, head tilted back like you just said the funniest thing all night. “You’re cute.”

Great. Now you’re even more nervous.

He walks you over to the stage setup, lights dim and moody, the buzz of crew members in the background. The instruments are neatly arranged—drum kits, amps, tangled cords, and at the center, his guitar resting on its stand.

He picks it up effortlessly, letting the strap fall over his shoulder. His fingers settle over the strings, and he begins to strum, absentmindedly. It’s not even a real song, just soft notes—but it’s hypnotizing.

Especially the way his fingers move. Long, slender, practiced.

You're staring. Absolutely entranced.

“Wanna try playing?” he asks suddenly.

You snap out of it so fast it’s embarrassing. “H-huh?”

He chuckles, soft and low. “Bit distracted there, sweetheart. You okay?”

“I’m good. Mhm.” You nod a little too quickly, plastering on a tight smile as your face warms. You hope he doesn’t notice, but that knowing glint in his eyes tells you otherwise.

He steps toward you with the guitar, offering it out with a slight tilt of his head. “Here.”

Your hands hover uncertainly. “O-oh… I don’t know how to play.”

He just smiles. “It’s alright, I’ll help you.”

He walks behind you, close enough that you feel the warmth of him at your back. You swear your heart skips a beat when his arms slip around you, guiding yours. He’s gentle as he places your left hand along the neck of the guitar, adjusting your fingers over the frets, his hand covering yours.

“Just relax,” he murmurs, voice right by your ear.

Your breath hitches.

“Shit—sorry, too close?” he asks quickly, voice laced with concern.

“N-no! It’s fine! Totally fine.” You somehow manage to stand upright.

He smiles again, that soft kind of amused. “Alright, just press here... yeah, that’s it.” He places your fingers on the strings. “Now, strum with this hand—lightly. Let the strings breathe.”

You try, hesitantly dragging your fingers down the strings. A clumsy note sounds out.

Choso hums. “Not bad. Now, try a G chord—here, like this.” His fingers mold yours again, warm and careful.

You nod, barely able to think with him this close, and repeat the motion. It sounds... slightly better.

“See?” he says, praising you with a smile in his voice. “Fast learner.”

You glance up at him over your shoulder, heart fluttering. “Maybe I just have a good teacher.”

His lips quirk, and he looks at you like you’ve just made his night.

“Well,” he says, “I am good with my hands.”

Your brain short-circuits.

He grins when he hears that soft, breathy little sound escape your lips.

“O-oh,” you stammer, eyes wide as you blink up at him.

His smile deepens, all teasing and low charm. “Didn’t mean to make you nervous,” he says, though he definitely did. 

You open your mouth to say something—anything—but your brain’s gone completely blank. The only thing in your head is him. His voice, his scent, the low buzz of his guitar still humming in your hands.

“I—uh, yeah. No. You’re doing great. I mean—I’m doing great. I mean—thank you.”

He laughs. Not mockingly—it's soft, sweet, like he finds you genuinely adorable.

“You’re cute when you get flustered,” he says, voice quiet.

You look down at the guitar in your hands, pretending very hard to be focused on the strings.

“Maybe we’ll get you to play a whole song next time.”

You blink. “Next time?”

He shrugs casually, stepping back just enough to make you miss his warmth. “If you’re coming to the next gig, I figured I’d see you again.”

And then, with the most casual confidence, he adds, “You wanna?”

You blink up at him, heart still pounding from the way he practically wrapped himself around you moments ago. But then—somehow—you find your footing, just enough to muster a sliver of confidence.

You clear your throat, giving him a lopsided little smile. “Let’s see how this one goes first.”

His brows shoot up, clearly amused. “Is that a challenge?”

You shrug, trying not to melt under his gaze. “Depends. You think you can handle it?”

Choso laughs—a low, warm sound that vibrates in your chest more than your ears. He leans in again, just a little, his face dangerously close to yours. “Sweetheart,” he says, voice like silk, “I know I can.”

-

The crowd is thicker than last time. Hazy neon lights wash the walls in streaks of violet and red, and the room thrums with anticipation. You can feel the energy buzzing through your fingertips, your legs bouncing where you sit off to the side of the stage.

Choso catches your eye just before stepping on. He’s dressed in that same loose black button-up—top few buttons undone, sleeves rolled to the elbows, tattoos stark against his pale skin. His eyes are lined in that soft purple hue again, hair falling wild to his neck, and yet he somehow looks composed. Grounded. Like he was born to be here.

He doesn’t say anything, just gives you a look—half smirk, half something softer—and it sends butterflies flurrying in your chest.

And then: the lights dim. The crowd erupts. The band takes the stage.

Suguru on drums, flashing a grin at the front row before twirling his sticks and slamming into the first beat like a force of nature. Satoru struts forward, mic in hand, already oozing charisma, and Choso—Choso slides into position with his bass like it’s a part of him. One hand gripping the neck, the other plucking strings with a lazy, practiced ease.

The sound hits you like a wave. Loud. Gritty. Addictive.

But even as the music drowns everything out, your eyes stay locked on him.

Choso doesn’t look at the crowd. Doesn’t need to. He’s in his own world—eyes half-lidded, lips parted, swaying with the rhythm like the bass is leading him. And yet, somehow, he still finds a way to glance at you.

Just for a second. A flicker of a smirk.

And that’s when you realize it.

He’s playing for them—but looking at you.

And that smolder in his gaze? That spark that coils low in your belly?

It’s all for you.

-

The crowd’s roars have faded, the lights are dimming, and you’re still standing there, heart racing. Choso’s walking off stage, sweat-slick and glowing, bass still strapped to his back, and the second his eyes find you he smiles. Soft. Lopsided. Like it’s just for you.

He weaves through the staff with ease, and before you can fully brace yourself, he’s in front of you, that same lazy smirk playing on his lips. “Didn’t think you’d actually stick around,” he teases, voice low, raspy from the set.

You roll your eyes, a little bashful. “Had to see if your fingers really lived up to the hype.”

His brows shoot up, surprised—and then he laughs. It’s deep and warm and it makes your stomach do flips. “Oh? And?”

You tilt your head, pretending to think. “I’m not sure yet. Might need a private performance to decide.”

And damn, now he’s the one blushing.

He blinks. Once. Twice. And then that lazy grin deepens into something more—something that makes your throat dry.

“A private performance, huh?” he echoes, slinging the bass off his shoulder, setting it down like he’s done this a thousand times before—cool, collected, practiced. “You planning to book me?”

You cross your arms, trying to look unbothered despite the heat crawling up your neck. “Maybe. Depends on your rates.”

He steps closer, just a little, enough to tilt his head down to look at you properly. His voice drops lower. “I charge in coffee. Late-night conversations. And the occasional secret.”

“Oh?” you arch a brow. “That’s expensive.”

He chuckles, brushing a strand of hair behind his ear. “You’re worth it.”

Pause.

Your heart skips. Literally skips.

And suddenly it’s too quiet. The post-show noise is just background hum now—muffled cheers, clinks of beer bottles, bandmates laughing somewhere behind you. But he’s looking at you like you’re the only person who matters in this moment. Like he wants to learn you.

So you try to deflect, half-teasing, “You say that to all the girls who hang around after shows?”

He hums, like he’s pretending to think. “No,” he says finally. “You’re the only one who stayed quiet the whole time. Just… watched.”

You blink, caught off guard. “Was it creepy?”

He shakes his head. “Nah. It was nice. Felt like you were listening to more than just the music.”

You weren’t. You were listening to him.

But you don’t say that. Instead, you glance away, pretending not to be swooning.

And then—

“Hey,” he says softly, nudging your chin with two fingers to bring your gaze back to his. “Wanna get outta here?”

Your breath hitches. “Huh?”

He smiles, easy and relaxed, eyes scanning your face like he’s memorizing it. “There’s this spot a few blocks from here—low lights, decent drinks, great fries. Thought maybe I could buy you one. A drink, not a fry,” he adds with a little chuckle.

Your heart is thudding so loudly you're sure he can hear it. “Are you… asking me out?”

He shrugs, casual but undeniably charming. “If I said yes, would you say no?”

You try to play it cool, crossing your arms even though your insides are a whole storm. “You planning to pull that whole mysterious musician act the whole time?”

He leans in just a bit, close enough for your noses to nearly brush. “Only if it gets me a second date.”

And just like that, you’re done for.

“...I guess I could go for a drink.”

His grin widens. “Good. I’ll grab my jacket.”

-

The bar he takes you to is tucked away on a quiet street, the kind of place you wouldn’t find unless someone told you about it. There’s warm yellow lighting, a soft hum of old-school music playing on the speakers, and barely anyone around. It’s intimate in a way that makes your skin feel warm before you’ve even taken a sip of your drink.

He lets you slide into the booth first, then settles in across from you. His hands rest on the table, rings catching the light, and you find your gaze drawn to them—again. Damn those fingers.

“I’m not used to people sticking around after shows,” he says, eyes not leaving yours.

“I’m not used to chasing after bassists,” you shoot back, lips twitching.

He smirks. “So I’m special, huh?”

You roll your eyes, but the smile you’re fighting wins. “Don’t let it get to your head.”

Your drinks come. He lets you steal a sip of his. You let him steal two of yours.

“What got you into music?” you ask after a while, resting your chin on your hand.

He leans back, gaze flickering up like he’s searching the ceiling for the answer. “My dad, actually. He taught me how to play. He was obsessed with rhythm—said it was the heart of everything.”

You nod slowly. “He still around?”

Choso shakes his head. “Nah. Been a while. But I think he’d get a kick out of seeing me like this.”

There’s a quiet between you, not awkward, just full. You sip your drink.

“What about you?” he asks. “What do you do when you’re not falling for mysterious musicians at dive bars?”

You raise a brow. “Who said I was falling?”

His lips curve. “Touché.”

You end up telling him more than you thought you would. About your work, your favorite food, even boring little details. But he listens like every word matters. Laughs when you least expect it. His foot nudges yours under the table halfway through the night, and it stays there.

Eventually, the lights get lower, and the bar empties out.

“Guess we closed the place down,” you say, glancing around.

Choso’s watching you with a soft look. “Wouldn’t mind doing it again.”

Your heart flutters. “Same place?”

He smiles, gaze never leaving yours. “Sure.”

The night doesn’t end there.

He insists on walking you home—no arguments, no jokes, just slips his hand into yours like it’s the most natural thing in the world. And you let him, fingers intertwining with his, warmth blooming in your chest. It’s a quiet walk, but not the awkward kind. It’s that gentle, late-night calm. Like the whole world slowed down just for the two of you.

And for once, he’s not the brooding bassist with sharp eyeliner and calloused fingers. He’s just Choso. A guy who likes the way your hand fits in his. A guy who lets out a soft chuckle when you shiver and instinctively step closer.

You reach your place too soon.

You stop at the doorstep, neither of you making a move. No one says anything. You should probably say something. Goodnight. Thanks. This was fun. But the words get caught somewhere in your throat.

He steps closer instead.

There’s a breath between you. Just one.

And then his lips are on yours—soft, almost hesitant, like he’s asking if this is okay. And you answer him by fisting the fabric of his shirt and pulling him in. His hand comes up to your cheek, holding you steady as he kisses you again. Still gentle. Still quiet. But it makes your head spin all the same.

When he finally pulls back, he stays close, forehead pressed lightly to yours.

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” he murmurs.

Your heart might’ve actually stopped.

You slam the door shut behind you, back pressed against it, heart pounding so hard you swear it echoes in your ribcage. You stare at your phone, wide-eyed, thumbs flying:

you: SHOKO

you: SHOKO I NEED YOU TO WAKE UP

you: THIS IS AN EMERGENCY 

shoko: it’s literally 1am

shoko: you better be on fire 

you: I KISSED HIM

shoko: what

shoko: WHO

shoko: WAIT

shoko: WAIT.

you: YES. HIM.

shoko: THE HOT GUITAR PLAYER???

you: CHOSO. YES. YES. YES

shoko: oh my god you’re so gone

you: HE WALKED ME HOME. HELD MY HAND. KISSED ME. I AM GONE GONE.

shoko: AAAAAAAAAAA

you: HE SAID ‘GOODNIGHT SWEETHEART’

shoko: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

you: I KNOW

You toss your phone onto the bed, face planting right after it, squealing into your pillow like a teenager all over again.

Because you kissed him. And he kissed you back. And you’re never sleeping tonight.

-

You’re lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. The room is quiet—too quiet. You’ve already scrolled through your entire feed twice, tried reading, even got up to make tea you didn’t drink.

Then your phone lights up.

Incoming call: Choso.

Your heart stutters.

You take a breath and answer. “…Hey.”

His voice is warm on the other end. “Hey. Did I wake you?”

You shake your head even though he can’t see. “No. Couldn’t sleep.”

“Same,” he says. “Kept thinking about you.”

Your breath catches. You pull the blanket tighter around yourself, like it might calm your racing heart.

There’s a small silence, but it’s not awkward. It’s soft. Comfortable. Like neither of you really wants to hang up.

He speaks again, voice a little lower. “You looked beautiful tonight.”

You try to play it off. “I put in effort. Didn’t want to show up looking like I did last time.”

“I liked that too,” he says. “But tonight you walked in and I forgot what the hell I was doing.”

You laugh, hiding your face in your pillow.

“I wish I could see you again right now,” he says.

“Me too.”

“Would it be too much if I said I kinda wanna fall asleep listening to you?”

Your stomach flips.

You whisper, “Then stay on the line.”

And you do—both of you quiet, just breathing, letting the silence say everything.

-

You're standing outside the bar, shifting on your feet, trying to act like you haven’t been checking your reflection in every window on the walk here.

This time, your outfit isn’t casual by accident. You planned it. Styled your hair just right. Even put on that gloss you save for special occasions.

You step inside and immediately spot him, leaning back against a booth like he owns the place, one arm slung lazily over the seat. His eyes lift—

—and damn.

They rake down your figure slowly, like he’s drinking you in. And when they return to your face, there’s the smallest upward curve to his lips.

“Someone dressed to impress,” he says, standing as you approach.

“Maybe,” you reply, coy. “You are the star of the show, after all.”

He laughs low in his throat, hand brushing the small of your back as he leans in close. “Nah,” he murmurs. “Tonight, it’s all about you.”

You sit together in the same booth. This time, there’s no ice to break. The tension simmers warm between you—his knee bumps yours under the table and doesn’t move away. His eyes flicker to your lips more than once.

“So,” you say, swirling your drink. “What happens after drinks, guitar boy?”

He smirks, elbow resting on the table as he leans closer. “Depends. You thinking of letting me kiss you again?”

You raise your brows. “You planning on asking?”

He tilts his head. “I could. But you didn’t seem to need much prompting last time.”

That earns him a playful nudge. And a flustered laugh.

He grins. "Take your time, sweetheart. I'm not going anywhere."

The jukebox crackles as the next track begins—slow, dreamy, sweet.

Like falling asleep in warm hands. Like the part in a romance film where everything softens.

Before you can even comment on the vibe shift, Choso is rising from the booth, hand extended toward you, palm up.

Your brows lift. “You serious?”

He just smiles. “C’mon. Dance with me.”

You hesitate—because, what? In a bar? With him?? But his fingers flex, waiting, and the way he’s looking at you makes it impossible to say no.

You slip your hand into his.

He pulls you gently to the dance floor. There’s no one else there—just you, him, and the slow rhythm bleeding from the speakers. His hands settle on your waist. Yours hover awkwardly before curling behind his neck.

You sway.

“I didn’t take you for a dancer,” you mumble, heart skipping when he twirls you suddenly.

He smirks. “I’m not.”

You laugh—loud and sweet and so damn happy. And when he catches you again, you don’t pull away. Instead, you melt into him, resting your head against his chest, feeling the soft thud of his heartbeat under the fabric of his shirt.

His hand traces slow circles on your back.

“This okay?” he murmurs.

You nod, nuzzling in closer. “Yeah… It’s perfect.”

He rests his chin lightly atop your head. And neither of you says another word.

Not when the song ends.

Not when the next one starts.

Because for that moment—it’s just the two of you, swaying under dim lights, held together by the sound of a love song.

-

You step outside into the night, your breath curling in pale puffs. The air is colder than before, wrapping around your bare arms like a whispered warning. You shiver.

Without a word, Choso shrugs off his jacket and drapes it over your shoulders, tugging you into his side. His hand rests at your waist, warm and firm, grounding you.

For a while, you just stand there—side by side, quiet. The city buzzes in the distance, cars passing, streetlights humming.

You glance up at him, and he’s already looking at you. Hard.

Like he’s trying to memorize the slope of your jaw. The way the wind lifts your hair. The way your lips part just slightly when you breathe.

“What?” you ask, a soft laugh in your voice, raising an eyebrow.

He doesn’t answer immediately. Just wets his lips. His fingers flex against your hip.

“I just…” he starts, voice rough with restraint. “I really want to kiss you right now.”

You blink, heart thudding once. Twice.

The pause stretches.

“Yeah?” you murmur, leaning in a fraction. Teasing.

He nods once. Barely.

You smile—heart pounding in your throat. “So why don’t you?”

And that’s all it takes.

He cups your face with both hands, thumbs brushing the apples of your cheeks like you’re made of porcelain. And when his lips finally meet yours—it’s soft. Slow. Full of the tension he’s been carrying all night, unspooling between you in breathless silence.

His nose bumps yours. Your hands fist the front of his shirt again. Just like last time.

Only this time, you don’t stop at one kiss.

And when you finally pull away, he rests his forehead against yours, his voice low:

“You’re gonna ruin me, y’know that?”

You laugh, barely a whisper against his lips, breath mingling with his. “Then I guess I better make it worth your while.”

That gets a reaction.

His gaze darkens just slightly, lips twitching into the faintest smirk as his hands slide down from your cheeks, one settling at the nape of your neck while the other pulls you flush against him. “You trying to kill me, sweetheart?”

You don’t answer.

Because you’re already kissing him again.

This time it’s different.

Less hesitant.

More hungry.

Your fingers find his hair, tangling in the dark strands that fall just past his neck, tugging gently until he groans into your mouth. He kisses you deeper, like he’s starved, like he hasn’t been thinking about this since the first night he met you in the crowd, eyes wide and awe-struck.

His hand grips your waist, fingers digging in—not too hard, but enough to make your breath hitch.

You gasp, and he takes the opportunity to nip at your bottom lip, tongue flicking against it before pulling back just enough to breathe:

“You’re trouble.”

You blink up at him, dazed, lips kiss-swollen and heart racing. “You’re one to talk.”

And he laughs—low and breathy, pressing another quick kiss to your mouth like he can’t help himself.

“C’mon,” he murmurs. “Let me walk you home before I get any worse ideas.”

The walk back is quiet—but not the awkward kind. It’s heavy with something, charged with unspoken words and lingering touches. His fingers brush yours with every step, and each time it happens, your breath catches.

You swear he’s doing it on purpose.

But you don’t stop him.

The streetlights cast a soft glow on him, turning his features golden for a moment, then shadowed the next. He looks… different like this. Softer. Less like the untouchable bassist who had you practically drooling the first night, and more like someone you could fall for if you’re not careful.

You sneak a glance at him.

He’s already looking at you.

You look away fast, heart leaping, and he chuckles under his breath.

"Cold?" he asks, tugging you gently closer.

You nod, even though that’s not why you’re shaking.

His arm wraps around your shoulders, pulling you into his side as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. Your head fits against him perfectly, and his hand rubs slow circles against your arm, warm and grounding.

“Still nervous?” he murmurs.

You laugh quietly. “Little bit.”

“Me too.”

You tilt your head to look at him, surprised. “Really?”

He nods. “You make me nervous.”

You’re about to say something—anything—but then you’ve reached your place.

And suddenly, you don’t want to go inside.

He stops in front of your door, letting you go with a reluctant sigh. His hand lingers on your arm for a second longer before falling away.

There’s a beat of silence.

Then he shoves his hands into his pockets and asks, “You gonna call me?”

You nod. “If you answer.”

He grins. “Always.”

You hesitate—just for a second—and then press a soft kiss to his cheek. It’s quick, but the way his breath hitches tells you it did the trick.

“Goodnight, Choso.”

And before he can pull you in again, before you can throw all common sense out the window and kiss him properly, you slip inside.

Heart pounding. Lips tingling.

-

You wake up with your heart still pounding.

And not because of a nightmare.

Nope. This was worse.

Because it was real.

You kissed Choso.

Again.

And not in a dreamlike, floaty, “this could be a maybe” kind of way. You kissed him after swaying in his arms like some romcom protagonist. You kissed him, and he kissed you back, and you felt your knees give just a little, and you definitely whimpered against his mouth like a fool.

You groan and roll onto your side, burying your face in your pillow.

You’re so doomed.

Your phone vibrates.

You blink and grab it, squinting at the screen.

choso: didn’t want to wake you but i just wanted to say

choso: thank you for last night

You freeze.

Sit up slowly.

Your heartbeat? Violent.

You tap out a reply, delete it, rewrite it, delete again. Finally, you just go with:

you: it was nothing :)

Immediately after sending it:

you: i’m being weird aren’t i ignore me please

And then:

you: but also don’t ignore me because i liked it and i like you and i’m going to stop talking now before i make it worse

Your phone is dangerously quiet for thirty seconds.

Then it buzzes again.

choso: you’re not being weird.

choso: you’re being adorable

choso: i like you too

choso: also… can i see you again tonight?

You shriek into your pillow.

And then type:

you: you better

-

You weren’t expecting it when he texted you earlier that day.

come to the studio. i want you to hear something.

Now here you are, walking through a narrow hallway that smells like cigarettes and worn leather, Choso’s voice telling the receptionist to let you in. He meets you at the door, hoodie on, hair loosely tied back, a pair of headphones slung around his neck.

“Hey,” he murmurs, eyes raking over you with a small smile tugging at his lips.

You smile back, brushing past him as he closes the door behind you. The studio is dimly lit, a warm orange hue cast by the LED strips lining the edges of the ceiling. There’s a worn-out couch in the corner, an empty coffee cup on the desk, and wires everywhere.

He leads you to a chair beside him. “Wrote something last night. Thought you might want to hear it.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Inspired by anything?”

He doesn’t say anything. Just gives you a look.

He clicks a few keys on his laptop, and music starts playing—slow, rich bass, soft drums, a melody that feels like it’s watching you breathe. Then lyrics—his voice, lower and raspier than usual.

And the words? They burn.

It’s about being unable to get someone off your mind. About how they haunt your quiet moments. About wanting something that feels dangerous and delicate at the same time.

When it ends, there’s a beat of silence.

“…You wrote that?” you ask.

Choso nods, slow. “All of it.”

“It’s…” Your voice catches. “It’s beautiful.”

He leans back, watching you carefully. “It’s about you. In case that wasn’t obvious.”

The room feels smaller. Hotter. You swallow.

You murmur, “I didn’t know I had that kind of effect on you.”

“You don’t,” he says, stepping closer. “You have more.”

He’s standing between your knees now. One hand on the armrest beside you. The other gently tilts your chin up.

“Can I kiss you again?”

You nod before your brain even catches up.

And then he does—slower this time. Like he’s savoring it. His lips slot against yours and the world blurs. His hand slips to your waist, drawing you closer, and you wrap your arms around his neck without thinking.

The music plays on in the background. But neither of you hears it.

His lips are warm against yours, stealing every thought from your head. One kiss turns into two, then three—deeper, slower, more intense. His hands settle on your waist, firm, grounding. You melt into him without thinking.

But then—between kisses, you manage a breathless whisper, lips brushing his as you speak.

“Choso, not here—there’s people around.”

His eyes open slowly, pupils blown wide. He glances around, then back at you, and that look in his eyes? It's trouble.

Without saying a word, he grabs your hand. “Come on.”

You barely catch your breath before he’s pulling you along, weaving past people, straight toward the exit. His grip doesn’t loosen, even when he’s fumbling for his keys. He unlocks his car in a rush and opens the passenger door for you before sliding into the driver’s seat himself.

The whole ride is charged—silent, save for the hum of the engine and the occasional stolen glance. He taps the steering wheel with his fingers, the ones that had just been ghosting over your skin minutes ago.

When he pulls into the parking lot of his building, he doesn’t waste time. Hands still locked with yours, he leads you upstairs, heart pounding just as fast as yours.

The second the door shuts behind you, he turns around—and everything finally snaps.

Choso doesn’t pounce. He doesn’t rush.

He leans against the door, just watching you. Taking you in like it’s the first time. His eyes roam your face, your lips—your heaving chest. There’s a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth, like he’s trying not to smile.

“You sure?” he asks, voice low, husky.

You nod, breathless. “Yeah.”

That’s all it takes.

He pushes off the door slowly, strides over like a man with nowhere else to be. His hands find your waist, gentle at first, then firm. His head dips down, lips ghosting over your jaw, your cheek, your mouth—but he doesn’t kiss you yet.

“You look so pretty tonight,” he murmurs, voice thick with restraint.

His nose grazes your neck, and you shudder. Every place his breath touches feels like it’s burning.

“You always look pretty,” he adds, kissing just below your ear now. “But tonight?”

He sucks in a breath through his teeth, lips brushing lower.

“You’re killing me.”

Your hands find the hem of his hoodie, fingers twitching as you lift it up slowly—exposing the pale skin of his stomach inch by inch. He lets you, arms raised, letting the fabric slide off and onto the floor. The tattoos swirl over his chest, catching the soft glow of the apartment lights, and your fingers can’t help but trace them.

“Still nervous?” he asks, voice rougher now.

You shake your head. “No. Just… can’t believe this is real.”

Choso tilts your chin up, makes you look at him. His gaze is so intense it steals the breath from your lungs.

“It is,” he says. “And we’ve got all night.”

He kisses you again, this time softer, slower. No rush. Just lips moving against yours with quiet reverence, like he’s memorizing the shape of your mouth.

His hands stay on your waist, warm and steady, but you feel the way his thumbs are drawing lazy circles on your skin—like he’s trying to ground himself. Like he’s savoring the moment as much as you are.

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. He hums into the kiss, one hand sliding up your back, fingers curling into your hair.

The path to the bedroom is a blur.

You’re not sure how you get there—if he carries you, or if you walk, tangled up in each other, lips never parting for more than a breath.

The room is dim, lit only by the city lights bleeding through the blinds. It paints both of you in silver and shadow. Choso backs you toward the bed, and when your knees hit the edge, he pauses. Looks down at you like you’re something sacred.

You swallow, heart thundering. “Are you gonna keep staring or—”

“Shh.” He dips his head, kisses your neck, just under your jaw. “Let me take my time with you.”

You shiver. God, his voice—low, velvet, dangerous.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this.”

He pushes you onto the bed and you bounce slightly on it. He’s crawling up your body, hands trailing along your sides, slipping beneath your shirt—fingertips so gentle it sends goosebumps across your skin. You raise your arms, let him take it off. He discards it carefully, almost reverently, and then he’s touching you again.

It’s not frantic. It’s worship.

The way he kisses down your chest, murmuring things you can’t even process. The way he handles you like he’s scared you’ll break. His mouth is everywhere—leaving warmth and wetness and little marks that’ll be there tomorrow. Proof that this happened. That he happened.

When his hands slip lower, and he finally asks, “Can I?”—you nod, breathless, and he grins, slow and sinful.

“Good,” he whispers. “Because I’m not stopping tonight.”

His touch starts soft. Teasing.

His fingers graze along your thigh, slipping under your skirt. Just the pad of one finger tracing your inner thigh, slow and unhurried, like he has all the time in the world to unravel you. He watches your reactions closely—every breath, every twitch, every clench of your thighs like it’s his favorite show.

“Already shaking,” he murmurs with a smirk, fingers drifting up higher, stopping just at the edge of your underwear. “And I’ve barely touched you.”

When he finally slips his hand beneath the fabric of your panties, his fingers are warm, his touch confident. He finds you wet—soaked—and he groans low in his throat.

“Fuck... all this for me?”

His middle finger drags through your folds, slow and deliberate, gathering everything, spreading it around before circling your clit—just barely touching it. It’s maddening.

“You’re already this worked up,” he breathes, leaning in to kiss your jaw. “What happens when I really start?”

He’s rushing to take your underwear off, almost ripping them in the process. Then—finally—he eases a finger inside.

It’s slow at first. Just one finger, shallow thrusts, curling up and stroking that spot inside you until your hips start chasing him, greedy for more. He watches your face the whole time, eats up every whimper.

“Choso… more,” you whisper, barely able to speak.

His eyes flick up, dark and hungry. “Yeah?” he murmurs. “You can take another?”

You nod, breathless.

He slides a second finger in—thicker, deeper. His palm presses against your clit as his fingers work inside you, curling just right, just enough pressure to make your back arch. His other hand grabs your thigh, keeps you open and steady as he builds a rhythm.

It’s obscene—the wet, messy sounds of his fingers fucking into you—but it only makes him grin.

“You hear that, sweetheart?” he says lowly. 

You’re gasping now, clutching the sheets, legs shaking. He really is good with his hands.

“C’mon,” he whispers against your neck, tongue darting out to taste you. “Let go for me.”

And with one more curl, one more stroke—you do.

You come around his fingers, back arching, a moan ripped from your chest as he keeps moving through it, working you until you’re twitching, thighs trembling against him.

When he finally pulls his fingers out, he brings them to his lips.

“Tastes even better than I imagined,” he says, voice low and ruined.

He doesn’t give you a second to catch your breath.

The second those words leave his mouth, his gaze drops—hungry, wicked—and before you can ask what he’s doing, he’s already moving.

He’s moving down your body, settling between your legs, hands parting your thighs, spreading you wide open for him. You barely manage a gasp before his mouth is on you.

And fuck.

He licks a slow stripe from your entrance to your clit—moaning against you like he’s tasting something divine. His tongue is hot, wet, firm—flicking against your clit before flattening and dragging against it again. He’s not shy. He devours.

You twitch under him, gasping, and his grip on your thighs tightens.

“Stay still for me,” he murmurs against you, breath fanning over your soaked heat. “Let me eat, baby.”

And oh, does he eat.

He buries his face between your legs like he’s starved—lips and tongue and heat and mess, sucking your clit into his mouth, groaning when your fingers grab his hair and pull. His nose nudges your clit, the piercings in his ears cold against your thigh.

His hands slide under your ass, lifting your hips just right so he can get even deeper. His tongue fucks into you, messy and wet, before he pulls back to mouth at your clit again.

You’re a wreck—panting, eyes rolling back, legs trembling on either side of his head. He loves it. You can tell by the way he hums into you, nose buried in your folds, like every whimper out of you is a personal victory.

Your thighs start to close around his head—he lets them. Arms locking around your legs, holding you there like he wants to be suffocated. And with one more flick of his tongue—one more swirl, one more perfect pressure—

You cry out, hips jerking, thighs clenching, and he doesn’t stop. He works you through it, licking, kissing, groaning against your cunt like he’s drunk off you.

When your body finally slumps back against the mattress, dazed and spent, he pulls back just enough to look up at you.

His mouth glistens. His eyes are wrecked.

And he licks his lips.

“Sweetest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever tasted.”

Choso’s mouth is still hot against yours, the kiss messy and hungry, his tongue sliding over yours like he can’t get enough of the taste of you. 

He unbuckles his belt, pushing his pants down along with his boxers, his girthy length slapping against his abdomen. Your mouth parts in a soft gasp at the sight of it. But you don't have time to marvel at it. His hands are already on your thighs, pushing them up—higher, higher—until you're folded in half in a mean mating press.

“Gonna keep you like this,” he murmurs, voice rough, chest heaving. “Wanna see your face while I fuck you.”

Your breath catches.

His hands hook behind your knees, holding them open as he shifts forward. The position has you completely laid out for him, helpless beneath the weight of his body. You feel his cock, thick and hard, dragging over your slick entrance—and then he pushes in, slow and deep.

You whimper—a sound torn from your throat, soft and wrecked, your back arching as he presses deeper.

Choso groans, low and guttural, head falling forward to rest against yours. His breath fans hot across your cheek, and you swear you can feel the tremble in his arms as he holds himself still—just for a second.

“F-fuck…” he breathes, voice rough with restraint. “You’re so fucking tight like this…”

His hips roll forward again, slower this time, the movement deliberate—like he wants you to feel every inch. “Feels like you’re made for me,” he murmurs, his voice barely more than a rasp.

Your fingers scramble across the expanse of his back, nails dragging, searching for something to ground you. His shoulders, his arms, anything—because the way he’s filling you, stretching you, it’s too much and not enough at the same time.

Then he starts to move. Deep. Steady. And the new angle is devastating.

He hits every spot just right, his cock dragging along your walls, slow and purposeful, grinding into the deepest parts of you with every thrust. Your legs tremble in his hold, pinned back and open for him, the pressure building with each stroke. Your jaw falls open, a moan slipping free—high-pitched and desperate.

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes.

But it’s not pain. No—never that.

It’s overwhelming. It’s perfect. It’s him.

“You’re taking it so well,” he grits out, eyes burning into yours as his pace deepens. “Fuck—just like that, baby. Taking all of me.”

You blink up at him, dazed, lips parted as your moans spill freely. He leans down—closer, closer—until your thighs are nearly flush to your chest and his weight settles on top of you, heavy and grounding.

And he fucks you.

Not rough, but intentional—each stroke slow and deep, hips rolling so he never leaves you empty. He watches your face, watches every twitch of your brows, every flutter of your lashes. Like he’s trying to memorize it. All of it.

Your hands tangle in his hair, pulling when his thrusts grind just right. His name escapes you in a whimper—over and over, his name like a mantra.

“Choso—” you gasp. “Oh my God—Choso, I-I…”

“I know,” he whispers, forehead pressed to yours. “I know, baby. I’ve got you.”

You’re soaked—messy, slick dripping down your thighs, pooling where your bodies meet. The wet slap of skin on skin is loud in the room, underscored by the soft creak of the mattress and your broken cries.

He shifts, angling just so, and you shatter.

Your body seizes, nails digging into his back as your orgasm rips through you, sudden and all-consuming. A sob leaves your throat, your back arching as your walls flutter and clamp down around him.

With a low groan, he shifts—gently, carefully—his hands sliding beneath your thighs to lower them. You gasp softly when he wraps your legs around his waist, keeping you close, keeping you full, as his hips press flush to yours.

He groans—a raw, broken sound—his hips stuttering. “Shit—fuck, I’m close—where do you want it, sweetheart?”

You barely think. You just nod, desperate. “Inside—please—inside.”

That’s all he needs.

He presses in deep, body trembling, a shudder running through him as he spills into you, cock twitching with every pulse of his release. You feel the heat of it—so much, thick and warm as it fills you up. And still, he doesn’t stop.

He keeps moving—soft, shallow thrusts that drag it out, that make your body twitch and whimper, overstimulated and glowing.

His name slips from your lips again, quieter this time, your fingers trailing down his back, soothing over sweat-slick skin.

And then—finally—he stills.

Buried to the hilt. Breathing hard. Forehead pressed to your shoulder, lips ghosting over your collarbone.

“I’ve got you,” he says again, voice low and reverent.

His hands settle on your waist, thumbs stroking your skin like he’s grounding himself.

"Don’t want to let go just yet," he murmurs, voice rough with emotion and aftermath. He leans down, kissing your shoulder, your jaw, the corner of your mouth. “Feels too good like this.”

You hum, dazed and pliant, arms winding around his neck as your forehead rests against his. His weight, his warmth—it’s comforting. Heavy in the best way.

Every small shift makes you gasp—too sensitive, too raw—but you don’t ask him to move.

You don’t want him to either.

And neither does he.

So he stays there—buried deep, your legs locked around his waist, your bodies tangled as if they were always meant to be like this.

After, when the haze finally starts to fade, Choso is the first to move—but only just.

He brushes your hair from your face with slow fingers, leaning down to press a kiss to your temple. “You okay?” he murmurs, voice low and full of concern. Gentle. So gentle. “Was that… too much?”

You shake your head, barely able to speak as you whisper, “No. It was perfect.”

He exhales, and the breath sounds like relief. Like he needed to hear that.

Without a word, he slips out of bed, grabbing a warm cloth and returning to you. He moves with such care—his hands slow, wiping between your thighs with reverence, like you’re something precious. You flinch a little at the sensitivity, and he mumbles a soft “Sorry” as he presses a kiss to your knee, his gaze flickering up to check on you again.

Once you’re clean, he tosses the cloth aside and crawls back under the covers. You instinctively curl into him, and he opens his arms wide, pulling you in, tucking your head beneath his chin.

His fingers trace slow, lazy circles along your spine. Your legs are tangled with his, your body warm and sore and safe. He smells like sweat and sex and his cologne, and you want to fall asleep in this exact moment, forever.

“You’re amazing,” he murmurs against your hair.

You blink up at him. “That’s my line.”

He smiles, barely-there but so real. “Guess we’ll take turns.”

You laugh—quiet, muffled against his chest—and he hums along with it, fingers still moving along your back.

A silence settles between you, but it isn’t awkward. It’s peaceful. The kind that only comes after letting someone see you bare in every way.

He breaks it eventually, voice thick with sleep. “You staying over?”

“Mhm.”

“You sure?”

You nod, eyes fluttering closed. “Wouldn’t wanna be anywhere else.”

And neither would he.

So he kisses the top of your head one more time, murmurs something soft and unintelligible against your skin, and lets himself fall asleep with you in his arms.

Exactly where you both want to be.

author's note. this is just pure choso brainrot because i could not get that fanart out of my head so ofc i had to write something about it. (choso girlies, i'm borrowing your man for a while, thank you)

please do not steal, modify or translate my work.

[augustsblossom]

main mark grayson x full viltrumite fem reader, when reader is sent from viltrum after nolan failed to try and convince mark to join the viltrum empire but she ended up falling in love with him.

can you add some angst and fluff also a bit smut if ur comfortable pls.

thank you.

love this so much hope u like it !

└── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘

˚ ༘ *ೃ⁀➷ main! Mark Grayson x fem viltrumite reader

˚ ༘ *ೃ⁀➷ a/n: forgive me if this is AWFUL I haven’t wrote fics in years so I’m still rusty and trying to find my groove again, this is also super short and rushed because again I’m just trying to get back into writing! If you liked this one I can def make a part 2 just lmk! Inbox me if you wanna see anything else <3 take care pookies mwah

˚ ༘ *ೃ⁀➷ WARNINGS: angst (not that good lol), swearing, annnddd that should be it

˚ ༘ *ೃ⁀➷ ALSO: please forgive me if I get anything wrong in this! I haven’t completely finished Invincible so I may have gotten some things messed up plus I’m not too good with keeping up with lore and information so pls correct me if needed! And this isn’t proof read but act like it is

————————————————————————

Nolan betraying Viltrium was the worst news the planet could receive. He was one of their strongest soldiers, but not strong enough to conquer earth? It didn’t make sense to the viltrumites.

They genuinely believe they were done for, so after finding out Nolan betrayed them they sent you. To be fair, Nolan TRIED, and when I say try I mean convince his son Mark to join the viltrum empire to continue taking over planets and growing stronger. So, being here now your job was to go to Earth and bring back Mark, Invincible.

You absolutely hated Earth like no doubt, and rightfully so because they are such a weak planet, so you were hoping it was gonna be light work to obtain mark and go home.

well.

Never say never right !

The plan was simple, disguise yourself and build a relationship with Mark Grayson to then basically sweet talk him into joining your empire. Super easy right?

Absolutely not.

Mark was a sweet talker himself. You met him in class when you asked a question about one of the assignments, and he was a sweetheart about it.

After completing the assignment you guys talked more, and got to the point where you were being invited to his home. Debbie oh so adored you. You were kind, gorgeous and respectful so of course you get brownie points from his mom!

The mission got complicated when his sweet talking was working a bit too well. Being a viltrumite, you weren’t entirely used to human emotion. Someone caring about you the way Mark did felt so foreign, you felt wrong for thinking about it the way you did.

Your friendship grew even stronger, you two were inseparable. Everything you did was together and for each other

You knew you were deep in shit when you’d catch yourself staring at Mark. While he was focused in class or explains Seance Dog for the 10 millionth time, you adored him. And oh were you so wrong about this being an easy mission

You knew you had to end it and tell him the truth before it got farther. It hurt you hurting him.

You practiced it over and over, telling him he should come with you back home, be apart of the viltrium empire and be together once and for all.

After a day of hanging out you guys finally got back to his place. You greeted Debbie as usual, knowing it most likely will be your last time. You absolutely hated the fact you even got yourself in this situation. You were supposed to simply get him to Viltrium and now you’re day dreaming about him being your boyfriend? Cmon girl.

You walked in behind Mark and shut his door, locking it and taking a deep breath before turning to look at him. He sat comfortably on the bed as he was already looking at you, sensing you were upset.

“You know… you’ve been really weird lately” Mark started.

“I mean, if there’s anything wrong or if I did anything I wanna know.”

You took another deep breath, preparing for the worst statement you can ever say.

“I’m a Viltriumite Mark.”

The room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. The only noise was the neighborhood kids playing outside and Debbie watching tv. Mark was as still as ever almost like he wasn’t breathing, he kept quiet

“I know you’re invincible. I know your father is Omni-Man. I know all of it.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat before going again

“Your father betrayed us Mark. We need you at Viltrium. Be with me at home where we can be this happy but better, we’ll have everything”

You were almost pleading with him. Scratch that, you were pleading with him.

Your eyes widened as you saw tears building in Marks eyes. He’s never cried in front of you, like ever.

“…This is why you came here? So you can get me for my dads fuck up? You used me and made me believe you were a normal friend I could have just so you can get me to join your damn empire?”

Marks voice raised with so much pain behind it, you never believed you would feel “bad” for a human but look at you now.

“No, mark you don’t understand”

He cut you off abruptly

“No YOU dont understand! Do you know how much I’ve cared about you helped you loved you? God you made me get feeling for a fucking spy”

And look at the monster you created for yourself. You truly only had one job, yet you made an innocent superhero fall in love with you for your own dirty work and fucked it all up. I guess you can say you finally understand why Nolan did what he did.

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Queen of the Night

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.5k (including lyrics)

Warnings: injured!dean, minor angst

Summary: Dean turns to you in a time of need despite the judgmental whispers from your friends. Dean has always been the love of your life, and you’re done trying to hide it.

Square Filled: queen of the night- hey violet (2020) for @spnsongchallengebingo

Author’s Note: this is based on the song Queen of the Night by Hey Violet

x

I've bandaged your bruises, you've held back my hair Who'd've known when this started that we'd end up here, here? But you reach out and touch me, say my name like a prayer All my friends say you're dangerous, but I don't fucking care

The rain splatters on the window hard, threatening to come inside with every shake of the house. The girls came over early in the evening so they were all here before the storm started. Your friends have transformed your living room from a minimalistic vibe to that of a fairytale. Lights on strings hang from the ceiling, two tents made of up blankets cover nearly every piece of furniture, the place smells of popcorn, and pillows cover the entire floor.

It’s perfect for movie night.

“Okay, here is the last bowl of popcorn. I am making no more,” Jessica claims.

“You’ve already made six bowls,” Monica snickers and shoves a handful of popcorn into her mouth.

“What movie are we watching next?” you ask.

“You’ve Got Mail,” Stacy grins. “I made sure to bring over the director’s cut version, too.”

The girls groan but you know they don’t mind watching that version. Stacy always brings that movie, so it’s more about giving your thoughts than actually watching the movie. Someone rings on the doorbell, and you look at the app to track the food you ordered.

“That should be the pizza,” you say. “I’ll get it.”

You walk to the front door and pull down your shirt to cover your stomach. Your favorite shirt has been in the dryer so often that you believe it’s shrunk. You open the door expecting to see the pizza, but Dean stands there instead.

No, not standing. He’s leaning against the door frame, bloody from head to toe. He’s injured. He didn’t go to the hospital. He came to you.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he chuckles.

He leans in closer but ends up falling into your arms. Jessica screams when she sees the bloody man, putting all your friends on alert. You struggle to keep him up but you manage to get him inside and out of the rain.

“Who is that?” Monica asks.

“Dean. I’ll be right back.” You practically drag Dean into the downstairs bathroom, and he sits on the closed toilet seat. “Where does it hurt?”

“Everywhere,” he whispers.

“Wait here.” You leave the bathroom and walk into your kitchen where the first aid kit is. All your friends are staring at you like you have two heads. “What?”

“Nothing,” Stacy mutters.

With a shake of your head, you walk back into the bathroom. Dean has his shirt off but keeps his pants on, and you stop yourself from drooling all over him. Yes, he looks good. Too good, in fact.

“Y/N,” he mumbles.

“I’m here, Dean.”

You unpack the first aid kit and start to clean his wounds. He should have gone to the hospital with claw marks like these ones. Where’s Sam? Why isn’t he able to do this? Is he just as bad? Dean hisses when you press the alcohol pad on his wounds but gives no other reaction. You’re not equipped to give him stitches so you do your best with what you have. Before you know it, there are two piles of bloody tissues on the ground.

“Okay, Dean, you need to go to the hospital. Some of these wounds need stitches.”

“Later,” he sighs.

“Okay, well, let’s get you into bed.”

He uses you as support as you walk him to the downstairs guest bedroom. He falls onto his back and you heave both legs onto the bed. He is already snoring before you can undress him. That task is a lot harder for you to do considering he weighs a ton, but you manage to get him stripped down to his briefs. You walk to the laundry room and throw his clothes into the wash so they’ll be clean for when he wakes up.

“Are you going to tell us who that is and why he’s all bloody?” Jessica asks when you return to the girls.

“I don’t know what happened to him.” That’s a lie. You know some monster got to him but the last thing you’re gonna do is tell the girls that. “He’s sleeping right now.”

“Who is he?” Monica asks.

“Dean Winchester.”

“Dean Winchester? Is that the same Dean who got in trouble with the law?”

“Is that the same Dean who has a knife and gun collection?” Stacy asks after Jessica.

“Yes.”

“Girl, you gotta get out. That man is dangerous.”

You hear what they’re saying but you honestly don’t give a fuck about their opinions and their advice. They don’t know him like you do, and the thought of cutting him out of your life is heartbreaking.

When the night goes quiet and we're up in your room And you're kissing my fingers, and I kiss your tattoos I could play in bed with you and talk shit forever-ever If this is all a dream, wake me up never, never, never Swear to God, cross my heart, no one does it better, better Boy I luh ya, always gonna

Dean is in town for a few days after going to the hospital to get stitched up, and he decides to spend it all with you. Your friends were apprehensive when you told them he was staying with you but you don’t care what they think.

The doctor told Dean to take it easy so you two are in bed watching a movie, but neither of you is paying attention to it. You snuggle up to his side and run your hand down the bandages on his chest. He reaches up and grabs your hand, intertwining your fingers with him. Whenever he is in the same town as you, he makes sure to spend time with you even if it’s only for a few hours.

“So, where is Sam?”

“Sick.”

“You went on a hunt solo?” He nods. “Why not give it to some other hunter?”

“Didn’t need to. I handled it.”

“You got hurt.”

“I had you to fix me,” he smiles.

“You’ll always have me to fix you,” you whisper. “I hate that you’re leaving me in a few days.” Dean doesn’t say anything about that because what is there to say? “You could take me with you, you know.”

“Your life is here.”

“My life is anywhere where you are.”

“Y/N,” he whispers. “I’m dangerous.”

“I don’t care.”

“My life is full of monsters.”

“Mine isn’t? You’ve met my dad and brother,” you say in a low voice.

Dean deals with supernatural monsters while you had two human monsters living under the same roof as you.

“You’ll probably get killed.”

“Better by your side than alone, right?” Dean sighs but you don’t want to upset him further. You lean up and kiss him, and he accepts your touch. “Let’s talk about this tomorrow morning.”

“Okay,” he whispers.

'Cause there's something about it that brings me to life Yeah, I know all the consequences, I don't mind This holy redemption tears us in two But I can't turn my back to you Wearing your t-shirt, I'm queen of the night One hand on the wheel, and one hand on my thigh And I know it sounds crazy, but, babe, I am too I just can't turn my back to you

Being with Dean is dangerous and it definitely shortens your lifespan by at least a decade, but you’d rather be by his side where you feel more free than you ever did. Sure, monsters are always a threat but the reward is worth the risk. You’re too in love with him to care about anything other than him.

Life has given you plenty of times to abandon him but you never did. You always came whenever he called, you always fixed him whenever he was broken, and you always made time for him. You two never had the “what are we?” conversation, but you two were exclusive. No other man in your life mattered more than him, and he never slept with another woman since claiming you were his.

It didn’t take much convincing on your part to let him take you with him. He had to get back to the Bunker, and he took you with him. You let Jessica sublet from your place with all the furniture. All you had to do was pack two bags and you were all set. Your friends weren't happy to see you go but Jessica knew you hadn’t been happy in a long time. She doesn’t like Dean but she knew being in the same city as your dad and brother would have gotten you killed eventually.

You’re sitting in the passenger seat of the Impala with the windows down, allowing the wind to knot your hair. Dean gave you one of his shirts to wear which is ten times more comfier than the shirts you own. He has one hand on the wheel and the other resting on your thigh. He doesn’t move it but it sends shivers down your spine knowing he can.

You look at Dean and rest your head on the back of the seat, grinning when he looks over at you with a dazzling smirk.

x

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[yeonmuse]

── Its known that when an angel loses their wings heaven weeps for them, so why is she the one left crying ?

「. 성훈 , 재윤 」

𓍼 Her life takes a melancholic turn when she loses her mother, causing her to spiral completely. In a desperate attempt to numb herself she turns to parties, weed and alcohol which does nothing more than get her into trouble and tarnish her families reputation. Her inconsideration for others and irresponsibility earns her three new roommates, a father and two brothers — two brothers whom which she becomes the pawn of. Sim Jaeyun and his brother Sunghoon; the two are polar opposites, Jakes more into sports and books and Sunghoon is more into fast cars and nights out. Despite how different they are, they both have one thing in common — neither of them plan on losing this bet. Stakes are high as the first one to get her into their bed wins the others most prized possesion, but will either of them succeed?

ྀི park sunghoon x f!reader x sim jaeyun ── ɢenre.. melodrama, suggestive, non idol enha. feats. ot7 [reqs are closed] ᝰ.ᐟ my 𝓁ibrary ⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

💭 : this series is for a mature audience 18+ of course I know I can’t control who reads this though, you’ve been warned that there are mature topics involved such as the following , ─ mentions of death, alcohol, substance abuse, marijuana, sexual topics & etc

MISERY LOVES COMPANY.

CHAPTERLIST | PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

“I’m sorry what?’’ as if not fully comprehending the words that had left her grandmother's mouth she blinks rapidly, trying to figure out if she had really heard that or if her mind was playing tricks on her

“You didn’t think I would be leaving you all by yourself when I went back to italy did you?’’

“So you decide to leave me with a complete stranger.’’

“He’s not a stranger my god you younger generations really don’t remember anyone. He was friends with your parents they all owned the bookstore together and they took you there when you were younger.’’ Though she vaguely remembered the bookstore, many of her childhood memories had faded to the deepest parts of her mind.

“Um.’’

“It’s alright if you don’t remember you were only about six or seven at the time.’’ he suddenly chimes in momentarily, stealing her attention away from her grandmother.

“Him and his two sons will be staying here, until I know you can be trusted to stay here on your own they’ll be looking after you.’’

“Oh great more people to add onto my misery.’’ she sighs, shaking her head and rubbing at her forehead, suddenly feeling a headache coming on.

“Well misery loves company dear.’’ her grandma comments rubbing her shoulders.

In addition to the fact that she had just now lost her mother, having three complete strangers move into her house just for the sole purpose of babysitting her; it gave her an entirely new reason to not want to leave her room. While she stayed cooped up inside, hating her life more with every second ( with the company of Sunoo through facetime ) the mansion's new inhabitants were roaming around freely.

“You mean to tell me someone was living here all on their own? Without getting lost?’’ Jake whispers beneath his breath as he enters the house for the first time, taking in the art that stretched from the floor to the ceiling and the chandeliers that would blind you if you stared too long, and that had only been the foyer.

“Quit gawking, you’re acting like you’ve never been in a house before.’’ Sunghoon comments, bumping against Jake's shoulder as he went off to find the room given to him before they got there.

“I have just never one this big.’’ Jake responds, his voice fading off as he scanned the place, eventually moving from the foyer to explore other parts of the house that they were now able to call their own.

Eventually they had all settled in, everything having gotten done much quicker with the help of movers, in contrast to the 7 hours of moving done by just the three of them. When they had finally finished the two boys along with their father and her grandmother all gathered out in the garden.

“Well first off welcome,i hope you boys are all settled in and have explored the house a bit.’’ her grandma inquires with a smile on her face, setting her tea aside so she could discuss with them the matters of the home.

“Yes ma’am all settled in.’’ Jake responds followed by a half hearted “yup” from Sunghoon who simply wanted the conversation to be over already.

“I want to apologize for my grandaughters absence she’s not feeling the best at the moment but she’ll come down once she’s ready.’’ Mr Park. gives a nod of understanding already knowing the girl's current state without the topic itself having been brought up.

“As much as i’d like to say you’re simply here to enjoy your time here one of your main priorities is to look after her while i’m away. I’ve made sure to enroll your boys into the same university and yn they'll get the top education needed, full rides. As for your work I know you sacrificed a lot to be here so I did pull strings with that publishing company you were interested in and you’ll start in three days, they’re giving you time to get settled." The three simply nod along as she spoke, sunghoon barely showing much interest in any word spoken until money had been involved.

“Now I know that you said you don't want to accept any money for being here with her, but I'll be paying you and your boys 3 thousand a week for any expenses that may come about. A bonus thousand if you can actually keep her in line.’’ she adds on pinching the bridge of her nose.

“I’m sure they’ll use it all responsibly right guys.’’ their father gives the two of them a look they knew all too well, they both shoot a smile her way, followed up by a band of yeses.

“Perfect, I'll still be here until Monday, but the place is yours. The only thing I asked of you is that you stay out of the last room on the left wing of the house. That room is strictly forbidden to anyone other than yn.’’ Sunghoon and Jake share a glance with one another before shrugging it off.

Once every matter had finally been discussed Mr. park and Ms. Kang both dispersed into their own parts of the house leaving the two boys outside.

“You think she’s that bad?’’ Jake questions, laying back on the grass and watching as rain clouds came rolling in.

“Nah it’s totally normal to be twenty two years old and still need a babysitter.’’ Sunghoon responds sarcastically, making Jake roll his eyes.

“I don’t know just seems weird to have this much money and live in a place like this and you can’t even manage it.’’

“She’s probably just one of those spoiled rich types that takes it for granted or gets herself into deep shit so now she needs someone to tend to her like she’s a child. Simple as that.’’ Sunghoon responds, pushing himself up from his seat.

“Where are you going?’’ Jake questions, sitting up from his seat on the grassland resting on his palms.

“To mind my business, don’t worry about it.’’ Jake simply shrugs it off, going back to his cloud watching as Sunghoon disappears back inside. Making a beeline straight for the left wing of the house.

He had heard exactly what her grandmother said about this side of the house; he was just never one to listen, especially when his curiosity got the best of him. So now here he was creeping towards the end of the hallway doing the exact opposite of what she had told them not to do.

After hours of keeping herself caged up in her room her stomach had finally persuaded her to leave it, she had been halfway down the hall when she saw a head of hair zoom up the stairs and into the left wing of the house, the side where only three rooms remained two of them being entirely off limits. Momentarily putting her hunger aside she follows suit.

Sunghoon had only made it halfway to the door when he heard someone speak up behind him, annoyance laced in their tone. But It obviously hadn’t been their dad or jake or her Ms. Kang so that only left one option and slowly but surely he turned to find her standing there.

“What are you doing?’’ Sunghoons eyes smoothly scanned over her, giving her a once over until he came to the conclusion that she wasn’t as bad as he imagined she’d look.

“Uh hello jackass, I asked a question.’’ as annoying as that mouth of hers was to him in that moment it was also absolutely amusing. He was expecting her to be some propper and prissy rich bitch but to his surprise she swore like a sailor.

“Just looking for the library.’’ he lied with ease, unfortunately for him she wasn’t buying it.

“Right, the bigass room downstairs that can easily be found if you walk past the kitchen.’’

“Not asking you to believe me unlike you my house before this didn’t need to come with a map.’’Sunghoon responds snarkily, making her nose scrunch up in annoyance.

“Okay who are you?’’

“Sunghoon, one of your new babysitters sweetheart,’’ He responds, shooting her a cheeky grin.

“Oh this day just keeps getting worse.’’ She rolls her eyes, letting out a huff as she turns on her heels and walks away, Sunghoon suddenly feeling compelled to follow behind her.

“So have you always needed a babysitter or is this like a new thing for you.’’ Sunghoon continues on, finding delight in the annoyed expression on her face.

“Stop talking to me or i’m going to have one less babysitter walking around here.’’ she responds shuffling down the stairs letting out an annoyed huff as he continues to stalk behind her.

“Don’t think your grandma would be too happy about you y'know killing one of your babysitters. That is if you even had the balls to do it.’’ Sunghoon mocks, resting his elbows on the kitchen countertop and his head on his palm as he watches her open the fridge.

“Who are you talking to?’’ Jake interrupts, entering the kitchen with a towel on his head as he rubs his hair dry from the rain. Eventually he looks over to find her standing at the fridge and he freezes on the spot, in contrast to Sunghoons onceover his was more subtle and less judgemental.

“Oh great there's two of you what's this one's name.’’ her gaze then shifts to him, away from Sunghoon who had gotten bored of her already which resulted in him getting on his phone.

“Jake, and you’re yn right?’’

“No i’m actually the ghost that haunts this place when she’s asleep.’’ she responds sarcastically, earning a snicker from Sunghoon who eventually got up to leave. Not forgetting to whisper a quick ‘I told you so’ in his brother's direction before walking out.

“So i see you met my brother, and he’s already gotten on your nerves I assume.’’

“Unfortunately.” she responds grabbing a water from the fridge and closing it, suddenly having lost her appetite

“Yep that’s the usual reaction people have to meeting him.’’ Jake comments, taking a seat at the island counter.

“So if he’s the moody one that makes you?’’ she pauses as if waiting for him to fill in the rest of the sentence.

“The not so annoying one, you know the one that’s got actual charm.’’ Jake responds, making her squint her eyes and her lips press into a thin line.

“Right…i’m gonna go now, and hopefully when i wake up tomorrow this will all be a dream and you and your moody brother won’t actually be here.’’ grabbing her a water from the counter she bids him a goodbye before leaving him alone in the kitchen.

CHAPTERLIST | PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

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[bimboothefool]

𝐀 𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐝’𝐬 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞

𝘽𝙡𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙋𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙡 𝘾𝙤𝙤𝙠𝙞𝙚 𝙭 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

𝐚/𝐧: This is a part of a monthly poll where Patreon members can vote for that month’s story that would also have a fully rendered illustration! For now these polls are put on pause due to a short number of Patreon members. Sub to the Patreon if you’d like to access my content days or weeks in advance. It’d support me directly and you’ll have access to the Patreon only Discord server!

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: spoilers for The Legend of The Duskgloom Sea, you/reader becomes a mermaid in this fic and no other warnings.

As you were packing up some necessities and gifts in a satchel, Rookie Cookie excitedly asked for the story of how you fell in love with Black Pearl Cookie. “Why don’t you ask Captain Caviar Cookie for that story?” They fired back at you with, “But he said to get the story directly from you!” You sighed and looked at the time, it seemed like you had a couple minutes to spare before you’re set to sail.

“Okay, okay you got me. Settle down, Rookie Cookie.” Rookie Cookie eagerly sits down as their eyes gleamed with excitement. “Now it all began like this…”

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

You were stunned for words as the wrath of the gigantic mermaid was immeasurable. She sneered at Captain Caviar Cookie with utter disdain. “Memories..? WAITING?! For some insignificant COOKIE?! HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND?! To even suggest that I still care about some liar who broke a promise!”

Your mind clicked the pieces in place, the word promise echoed in your head. ‘ Maybe… Just maybe there’s still a way to negotiate with her… ‘ Your eyes looked up as you exited the submarine and asked. “Wait please?!”

Her glowing powder blue eyes stare directly at your smaller form, as you walked towards her palm as you two were now face to face. “What you’re going to plead for your pathetic life to be spared, if so how presumptuous of you…” You swallowed your fear back as you ignored Captain Caviar Cookie and Candy Diver Cookie’s pleas for you to stop what you were doing.

“No, no… I won’t do that, instead I’d like to propose something…” Her eyes light up with intrigue as a menacing smile makes its way onto her lips. “Go on, amuse me…”

“I’d like to make a promise of sorts, you seem…isolated and perhaps you’d prefer it that way. Though I’d like to keep you company, in return I’ll order that no one be allowed to attack you or your home.” Your hands were clammy as you looked up and offered her your hand.

“So-Sound like a deal? Will you let them go?” She pondered and a flash of a softened gaze. “You… Would be willing to stay away from all who cherish you…” Captain Caviar Cookie was trying to pull you away from a binding promise. But you’ve made your stance clear. This way is the only option to keep your friends and people safe. “Yes, you have my word…” She grins and it seems to convince her. “Done. Now bid your friends farewell, if you even dare break this promise. Both you and your people will pay for your crimes…” She threatened as you sank to your knees as Captain Caviar Cookie hugged you tightly, his warmth engulfing your fear-ridden state.

Candy Diver Cookie joins the hug as they both promise to help you escape, you interjected. “No stop, that won’t help either of us. Just tell Oyster Cookie what happened and fill her in on my orders. You may be strong, but please let me do this…” His eyes stare back at you as he sighs knowing you’re not backing down. “Alright, I’ll let her know, just promise us that you’ll be safe.” You nodded as you bid them farewell, watching their submarine disappear into the inky depths.

You turn around to face her as she shrinks down to your size as you sink down, Black Pearl Cookie swims to your aid. Pulling a shimmery scale from her tail and pressing it against your lips. “Swallowing this will allow you to swim underwater, it’d be a shame to let your dough get soggy.” Black Pearl Cookie informed you, opening your mouth and swallowing the scale.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

“You swallowed WHAT?!” Rookie Cookie sprung up with shock and awe. “You can turn into a mermaid?! Oh what’s that like??” You laughed at Rookie Cookie’s oncoming questions. “Alright kiddo, calm down.” An infectious smile reached your lips as you continued on with your story.

“I’m curious, how come you’re here now?” Rookie Cookie asked as you answered. “She loosened the reins a bit, albeit it took a bit of patience, but long story short I’m allowed to be on land for about six months. The other six months I’m at the sea with her.”

“Does it get lonely?” You shook your head at their question. “At first yes, but after spending time with and away from her. I don’t feel alone with her, if anything I feel a bit lonely without her.” Rookie Cookie nods as they try to comprehend your words.

“Maybe someday… One day, we can walk on land together, but I highly doubt that. But it doesn't hurt to dream about it.” You realized you were getting sidetracked and decided to return to your tale.

“Now where was I..? Oh yeah, let’s continue!” Rookie Cookie sat down as you cleared your throat.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

The first couple weeks with her were a bit awkward, as she usually was relaxing. You imagined her being somewhat of an adrenaline junkie. But that was far from that, Black Pearl Cookie often took you with her to explore the sunken ships. Asking you if you’re familiar enough with what these ships held and their origins.

Soon a new face appears before the two of you, a bubbly shark mermaid. They introduced themself as Shark Sorbet Cookie and had a wish they wanted granted. “Such a lively kid…” You had to wonder if Black Pearl Cookie was capable of other things.

Learning just enough to understand her on a surface level, but not enough to truly grasp who she is underneath her wrathful and sadistic persona.

Black Pearl Cookie, the monster of the Black Pearl Island. You just didn’t believe that version of her was even true.

Her eyes glimmered with intrigue, she urged Shark Sorbet Cookie to ask for their wish. “You wish to walk on land that can be arranged…” Black Pearl Cookie outlines the deal as you stand beside her. Watching the scene unfold as your mind wanders a bit, hoping you’ll finally understand her.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

Weeks turned into months, the two were out exploring again as per usual. It was now a routine to see what you two could find. You found a sea glass chunk that shimmered an iridescent color. From blue to green, with little chunks of glitter, you took it with you and swiped a piece of string and got to work. Black Pearl Cookie anxiously awaited for you with a book in her hands.

Her tail waved nervously as she questioned when was the last time she’d ever felt this way. For a land cookie no less, she recalls those times she’d ask you to entertain her. Black Pearl Cookie had to admit you were an excellent storyteller and your voice was soothing to her.

Her heart started to skip a beat or two, her fin ears fluttered and her thoughts ran wild. Pushing away the darkest thoughts and replacing it with the times you’ve held her hand. Rested in the same bed as her, even the gifts you’ve crafted for her. It was worth more than the troves of treasure that have been sunken down here.

“This feeling… I thought I was never going to feel this way ever again…” Her clawed hand is placed over where her heart should be. She soon hears her name. As she sees you swimming excitedly to her. “Black Pearl Cookie!! Close your eyes!”

She raises a brow at you. “How come?” Her eyes see that you’ve got something behind your back. Your smile was oddly infectious, it was bright and warm like the sun.

Black Pearl Cookie couldn’t help, but be attracted to that sweet warmth. You’ve made her feel like she was everything. Even when she’d set up walls to impede your progress and stop herself from these feelings. You somehow melted them away.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

Rookie Cookie gushed at how you’ve melted the icy cold mermaid’s heart. Eager to hear the story to its end.

Your eyes wander towards the clock and widen with shock. “Oh shoot! Sorry Rookie Cookie, I’ll wrap up the story another time! Black Pearl Cookie is waiting for me!” You hurriedly exited the room as Rookie Cookie followed you, not wanting the ship to sail without you.

In a stroke of luck, you were right on time. You crouch down to meet Rookie Cookie at eye level. “Promise to tell me the rest of the story, when you come back?” You hummed and held out your pinky finger towards them. “Will do, it’d be a shame to leave you on a cliffhanger for too long.”

Rookie Cookie laughed as you both locked pinky fingers together, finalizing the promise. With a quick final hug, you headed to the ship as it sailed towards Black Pearl Island.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

You’ve reached your destination as you bid the crew farewell, you hopped into the ocean. Holding your necessities and gifts as tight as you can as the water engulfs you.

Your scales scattered across your skin as your legs became the typical mermaid fin. You swam around, calling out for Black Pearl Cookie. Unaware she was behind you as you see a large shadow behind you. “Gah! Black Pearl Cookie!”

She merely giggled at your shock ridden face, returning to her usual size. “Welcome back, my dear…” She purred as she cups your cheeks, peppering kisses all over your face. “How’ve you been?”

She sighs merely telling you how bored she was, fiddling with the sea glass necklace around her neck. “I bet… Oh I’ve brought you some gifts!” You chirped as you happily reached into your satchel and fished out a couple books. Stories and myths from your homeland. Black Pearl Cookie smiled softly, eagerly awaiting to read them.

She holds your hand and glances at your ring finger, the black pearl band still snuggly safe around it. It makes her heart bubble with unbridled joy. Knowing even when you two were apart, the gifts you’ve given each other were physical reminders of the love you two shared.

Black Pearl Cookie was certain, you’re the one for her and knew you felt the same. She softly kisses the ring on your finger, causing your heart to race. Black Pearl Cookie giggles at your lovestruck expression.

You place a kiss on her cheek, her ears flutter happily. Both of you smiled at each other, ready to spend the next six months with each other again. Enjoying the mundane and exciting moments together.

𝙎𝙥𝙚𝙘𝙞𝙖𝙡 𝙏𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙠𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙢𝙮 𝙋𝙖𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙤𝙣𝙨:

- 𝘾𝙤𝙡𝙤𝙧 𝙎𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙝 [𝙂𝙤𝙡𝙙 𝙏𝙞𝙘𝙠𝙚𝙩 𝙏𝙞𝙚𝙧]

- 𝘼𝙜𝙤𝙤𝙙𝙙𝙖𝙙123 [𝙎𝙞𝙡𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙏𝙞𝙘𝙠𝙚𝙩 𝙏𝙞𝙚𝙧]

- 𝙅𝙖𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙠 [𝙎𝙞𝙡𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙏𝙞𝙘𝙠𝙚𝙩 𝙏𝙞𝙚𝙧]

- 𝘽𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙮 [𝙎𝙞𝙡𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙏𝙞𝙘𝙠𝙚𝙩 𝙏𝙞𝙚𝙧]

𝙏𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙠 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙨𝙪𝙥𝙥𝙤𝙧𝙩 <3

𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐨𝐧 | 𝐤𝐨𝐟𝐢 | 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬

[deangirlsstuff67]

Out Of His League

Boaz Priestly x Reader

Summary: You make him a deal, he shows you his secret and you show him yours.

Warnings: clit piercing, language, fluffy Boaz, oral (female receiving), making out, feeling up, nipple piercings

Authors Note: I love Jensen and his family. This is purely fiction and for entertainment purposes only.

—————————————————————————

“Did it hurt?” Tish asked as you were rolling silverware in napkins together. Priestly was behind you both talking with Piper while half ass ease dropping on your conversation.

“Well duh Trish, you’re getting a needle stabbed in a sensitive area, it didn’t feel great.” You both giggle, “but it was so worth it.”

This got Priestley’s attention, “what are you two girls talking about?”

Trish shot him a glare over her shoulder, “nosy much?”

“Wow… okay Trish.” He turned back to his conversation with Piper.

You felt bad. You know he’s always kind of had. Thing for Trish and she won’t give him a second glance with the crazy hair and all the piercings he has. Trish likes pretty boys. She also enjoys using them and proving they are as dumb as they are pretty.

Some days you wonder if your friend is ever going to settle down and find herself a nice guy.

Priestly is sweet, kind, funny, and original. Is he a little out there? Sure, but at least he’s himself. You find that attractive in his own sort of way. If you’re being honest, he’s probably the perfect boyfriend.

—————————————————————————

Tonight you and Priestly are locking up. He’s wiping down tables and you count the till and close down the register.

Curiosity is getting the better of him though. He has to know if he was right about what you and Tosh were talking about earlier.

“So what hurt to get done y/n?”

Looking up from your count you are shocked he even still remembers the earlier conversation.

Smirking at him you figure why not flirt a little, “wouldn’t you like to know big guy.”

“Yes… yes I would. I think I know but I want to hear you say it.”

“Whys that?”

He struts over to the counter, leaning against it. Cleaning tables forgotten at the moment, “because I don’t peg you as the type of girl who would do something so daring.”

Laughing you go back to your counting, “oh I’m full of surprises Priestly.”

“There’s no way.”

“No way what?” You look at him through your lashes adding the charm a little thick.

He looks like he half believes you and half thinks you’re screwing with him. A girl like you getting that pierced, there’s no way that would happen.

“Tell you what Priestly, you tell me your first name and I’ll tell you what I got that hurt, deal?”

Groaning he turns back to his previous task, “nope, no way in hell.”

For some reason he refuses to tell us his first name. You have no idea why but you do know that it would curb his curiosity for a minute or two.

—————————————————————————

Three weeks go by and Priestly has been staring at you every chance he can, like he’s studying you. Trying to get a read on you and what you could have done. He hasn’t asked you again but he knows the price he has to pay to get the answers he wants.

You’re closing with him again that night and finally he can’t take not knowing anymore. You’re in the back room tidying up when he walks up behind you scaring the shit out of you, “Boaz. My first name is Boaz.”

“Jesus Christ, don’t do that!” You smack his arm as you walk past to put stuff in the garbage.

You take a deep breath before turning around. A deals a deal, “I got my clit pierced.”

His mouth drops open and you can’t help but giggle. Besides your ears you don’t have any visible piercings and you don’t talk about the ones you do have. Beside past boyfriends, no one knows about them.

“If it helps I also have had my nipples pierced for a few years now.” You shrug as you continue moving around the room. Boaz is rooted in place, trying to process what you’ve just told him.

His brain is misfiring though and all the blood has started pumping to his cock as he thinks about the image you placed in his mind.

You’re walking past him again, enjoying the look on his face when he reaches out and grabs your arm pulling you towards him.

“What are you doi-,” he cuts you off with a heated kiss. You can’t help but moan as his tongue licks into your mouth fighting for dominance with yours. His hands grab your waist and pull you flush to his hard body.

When you make contact with his hard dick he groans and leans his forehead against yours, “that’s the hottest thing I’ve ever heard y/n.”

You don’t respond, head dizzy from the kiss you just shared. Instead you take his lips again and kiss him hard.

He spins you around and lifts you up onto the table behind you without breaking your kiss.

Hands explore your body as you make out in the break room. When he softly rubs his thumb o er your nipples you throw your head back with a moan.

The piercings make them extra sensitive.

Smiling he does it again just to watch your pleasure from such a simple touch, “has anyone played with your clit since you got it pierced.”

“No.”

Rubbing your nipples again, “think it’s as sensitive as these ones?”

Looking into those list blown eyes you smirk as you respond, “only one way to find out Boaz.”

—————————————————————————

“Mmm… fuck Boaz…” he wasn’t wrong that piercing was the best investment I made. Either that or Boaz is a sex god no one ever knew about. The way his tongue is twisting and rubbing your piercing just right has you dripping for him.

This is orgasm number three he is pulling from your trembling, wrecked body and he doesn’t seem to be stopping any time soon.

Once he’s worked you through the last of it, he comes up for air. Kissing you so you can taste yourself on his lips and tongue.

There is something that turns you on about tasting yourself on the lips of a man. Maybe it's the fact that he enjoyed every minute of getting you off numberous times, or maybe it's just the fact that you have claimed him in a way and made him yours, at least for a moment.

Boaz Priestly was a sweet, funny, slightly out there kind of guy. He always had a knack for macking you feel better on those shitty days. You never thought you'd hook up with him though.

"I never heard my first name sound so good than when you're moaning it for me to hear."

You straighten up and fix your clothes. Giving him another kiss, you wink as you speak, "you know my secret and I know yours now. Promise I won't tell a soul."

You go to walk away but he stops you, "where do you think you're going?"

"Home."

"Awe that's cute sweetheart, I am far from finished with my girl."

You give him a puzzling look, "you're girl? Not that I'm not flattered but I kinda always thought you wanted Tish."

"Don't get me wrong, Tish is cute but you're the real prize y/n. You've never judged me. Always there for me when I need a friend. Hell you're beautful as fuck and you make me laugh. Knowing now that you have a kinky side and piercings of your own means that maybe I stand a slight chance with a girl like you." He's staring at the ground as he talks, gone is the cocky guy who was just making you scream his name repeatedly in the back room of your workplace, it's now replaced with a guy who seems to nervous for the man you have grown to love.

"Boaz, did you think you were out of my league or something?"

All he does is nod his head.

"You silly boy. I don't care about looks. If I'm being honest I love your style. You are 100% confident in who you are and express yourself through your style. You are funny, charming, and yes a little wild, but you were never out of my league."

Green eyes meet you y/e/c ones as he processes what you just confessed to him. You can't help but softly smile at the man in front of you.

God he's adorable.

Leaning in you kiss his lips gentle and take his hand, "come on, my man has more fun in store exploring what this piercing can do to me." You send him a wink as you lead him to the back door and into the night.

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

The next day you and Priestly walk into work hand in hand. You're both holding your breath as your coworkers look at you both. Within minutes hoots and hollers can be heard as they all congratulate you.

"About damn time you two." Tish says with a smile on her face as she wraps you up into a hug.

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

Taglist:

@bitchykittenconnoisseur @lessons-of-red @spnaquakindgdom @yvonneeeee @syrma-sensei @jayhalsteadfan-2417 @deansimpalababy @nancymcl @tspmoff @idontwannabehere78 @foxyjwls007 @senjoritanana @leigh70 @neii3n @maggiegirl17 @jamerlynn @mostlymarvelgirl @kimxwinchester @multiversefanfics

[dearestmillls]

throuple with rafe and sofia headcannons

rafe and sofia were together first

you were sofia’s best friend and rafe was her boyfriend. when you and rafe first met at sofia’s place the sparks flew. you couldn’t stop staring at his veiny large hands on your best friend’s plush thighs and you were so flustered. when sofia asked what was wrong you just said you felt a bit ‘hot’ which led to rafe showing you to the bathroom (even though you knew where it was) and fucking you his girlfriend’s best friend in her own bathroom. after that, you three started to spend more together. the first night you all spent was after sofia said ‘you think i don’t notice how you look at eachother?’ the rest is just history.

you’re the soft centre of their storm

rafe’s rough. sofia’s teasing. but you? youre the one they protect, spoil, and get absolutely feral over you when you so much as whimper. rafe’s all about pinning you down, and sofia’s all about whispering praise in your ear while he does. “you like when he’s rough, huh?” she’ll purr, while youre folded under rafe’s strong body. “so pretty when you take it for us.”

they compete for who can ruin you better.

it starts as a joke. a little “who made her come harder?” type of tension. but now it’s an ongoing game. sofia takes her time — hands, mouth, soft touches that edge you and have you begging. rafe? he’s all bite, grip, and don’t move, i’m not done with you yet energy. they both always win. and you lose, deliciously.

rafe has a thing for watching you and sofia

like full-on the obsession. he acts cocky about it, but the way he leans back, arms rippling as he rests them behind his head, just watching while sofia kisses down your chest, wrecking you all by herself. sometimes he doesn’t even touch himself. he just watches, smirks, while he waits his turn. “keep going.” he’ll growl, when your pretty doe eyes turn to him, silently begging. “i wanna see how pretty you look falling apart for her first.”

sofia’s the dirtiest talker out of all three of you

you’d think it’s rafe right? with his arrogance and entitlement but no—sofia’s got a sweet voice with the filthiest mouth. she’ll whisper in your ear while rafe’s fucking you from behind, circling your clit. or she’ll talk to rafe while she’s playing with yiu, teasing you both at once. “she’s soaking, rafe. bet she’d let both of us ruin her right now. our perfect little slut.”

you all have permanent marks on eachother.

rafe wears the scratches. sofia wears the hickeys. and you? you’ve got their scent on your skin and their hands constantly groping you. rafe loves when you wear sofia’s lipstick marks on your neck. sofia loves when your mascara’s smudged because of him. rafe, tracing the bruises on your hips: “no one gets to see you like this.” sophia, licking her thumb to fix your smeared lipgloss: “our pretty thing.”

shower sex? yes. kitchen sex? also yes. but—mirror sex is their favourite.

they love watching you unravel—watching each other’s hands on your body, watching you watch them. they’ll sandwich you between them, forcing you to keep eye contact with yourself. “look at yourself,” sophia whispers. “look how perfect you look between us.”

aftercare is insanely sweet

rafe runs the bath. sofia gets the snacks and movie running. you’re wrapped in blankets with kisses being dropped on your cheeks, shoulders and thighs. rafe holds you like youre glass whispering “did so good, angel,” into your hair. while sofia strokes your back and hums into your skin.

millie speaks—🌷

i am OBSESSED with them. lmk if you want more bc i’m so ready to write more!!

[davrinsleftpectoral]

A Word With Friends

Rules: Use the challenge word to write a sentence or scene and then tag a few friends. Happy writing!

This week's word: Egregious

1: Exceptional, conspicuous, outstanding, most usually in a negative fashion.

2: Outrageously bad; shocking.

I wasn’t directly tagged. I just like this game @hedwigoprah started. And I genuinely love this word.

Some of you have probably already done this but in case you haven’t @thedissonantverses @biowaredisasterbisexual @serensama @woundedsoul12 @mythals-whore @blackwall-my-tiny-husband

Honestly when it comes time to tag I forget all names. Except for a handful. So I’m really sorry but if you see this, and want to, please play! Tag me and I’ll read it.

Blurbo under the cut. It’s fluff, featuring my rook Turvi and Neve, to the surprise of no one lol.

==

Turvi held Neve’s hand, guiding her down the streets. “We’re almost there,” he said to her, his grin nearly splitting his face. He’d worked so hard with Rana on this, and now he got to show Neve finally. 

“This is a great neighborhood,” neve commented. “Laundress, wood worker, bakery. Right in the middle of things.”

“I still don’t know how you figured out what I was doing with Rana. We were so careful.”

“Tarquin gave you away. He mentioned you had been going to him asking about vacant buildings. I just put the rest together, once I saw how often you were sneaking off with Rana,” Neve replied with a cheeky smirk. 

Turvi chuckled. He’d have to give Tarquin a hard time later for giving them away. It didn’t bother him much though, she’d only figured it out after they’d picked the building. 

“Here we are! What do you think?” He watched Neve give the building a once over, looking it up and down. He could tell she was trying to contain her own answering smile, playing it cool even though it was just the two of them here. 

“Like I said the location is great. But it is… the most egregious shade of green I’ve ever seen.” 

“Neeeeve,” he drug her name out, while pulling her in close. “You’ve been spending too much time with Emmrich. I mean it, what do you think?”

“It looks great. Is it just the first floor? The agency surely doesn’t need 5 floors when there are only 2 of us,” she looked up again, taking in the building’s height. 

“Neve.” Turvi grabbed her by the shoulders and spun her to face him. “Two of you? No. There’s also me. And Davrin.” He started. 

“Well, I just,” she sputtered. 

“Neve Gallus. This building has 5 floors. The bottom is for the agency. The other 4 are going to be made into apartments. One for you and me. One for Rana. The top for Davrin when he’s in town, so Assan can play on the roof. And an extra for guests, or if there’s someone displaced that just needs a place to stay for a while.”

“Oh,” she said, a little breathless, and tried to turn her face away. 

Turvi put a hand on her cheek to turn her back to him. “I’m not going anywhere. You accepted that ring from me and it’s on your finger. You’re stuck with me. No take backs.”

She gave into the smile then, letting it light up her whole face. “But we are going to paint it right?”

[hannahsturniolo]

ɢᴏᴛᴛᴀ ɢᴇᴛ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴠᴇ

Warnings: Smut, p in v, riding, car sex

Summary: you went with Matt to visit all his family in Boston, and all of his extended family was at the house visiting, so you and Matt were stuck sleeping on the couch which means you couldn’t really have alone time, so you had to get creative.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

You and the triplets were flying out to see Matt’s family today. You were so excited to see Mary Lou and Jimmy. It’s been a while since you’ve seen them. You were really close with Mary Lou, she was going to be an amazing mother in law for you one day. Anytime you’d go to Boston, you’d go on a shopping spree with her, and go get your nails done and all the fun girly things she never got to do with the boys growing up.

Mary Lou was hosting a big get together at their place with family and friends from all over. People would be flying in from different states. Some of these people you’ve never met before since they were such distant cousins and other family members. There was going to be about 25 people in this house, staying the week. You were going to be in Boston for the whole week.

Matt had to give up his bedroom to his grandparents so we ended up sleeping on the couch for the whole week.

Before we left for Boston, you and matt hadn’t had sex in about 5 days since there was just so much going on, plus you were sick so you didn’t feel like having sex.

The 5th day in Boston, and the 10th day without sex was driving you and Matt crazy. You’d sleep on the couch together every night, but really couldn’t do much since Chris was on the other couch next to you. Matt would tease you every night. The lights would be off, and you’d feel his hand caress over your clothed pussy, and you’d push his hand away to stop since you didn’t want to get caught.

The 6th day you could not take it anymore. It was just after dinner, everyone was eating pizza, and laughing and having a good time. You were sitting beside Matt at the table, and you felt Matt’s hand move up your thigh. You jolted at the contact.

“Are you okay?” Said Nick.

“Oh, yeah I’m fine- I just- felt a random pain in my side.” You replied with rosy cheeks.

“Weird, I hope you’re okay” said Mary Lou all worried.

“I’m okay” you said with a smile.

Matt’s hand was still rubbing up your thigh close to where you needed him the most.

You were wearing a skirt, so he could easily slip his hand up there. But you couldn’t let him. There is a ton of family here.

“I’m just going to go to the bathroom; I’ll be right back” you said as you quickly got up and walked to the bathroom upstairs.

You texted Matt.

(Pink is you, blue is Matt)

Are you kidding me Matt? Infront of your family?

I’m going crazy baby. I need you.

I need you too. I’ve been craving you like crazy.

We’re going to make an excuse later, after dinner that we’re going to the store to get snacks.

Ohhhhh car sex Matt?

Yeah baby let’s do it. That’s the plan

You came back downstairs, and sat back down in your spot beside Matt. Matt gave you that smirk he does that drives you crazy.

You and Matt finish up eating dinner.

“Okay mom, I’m gonna go to the store, we’re gonna get snacks for maybe a movie night tonight, do you need anything?” Matt asked Mary Lou.

“No, I’m okay thanks… actually maybe some sour patch kids” she laughed.

You and Matt hurried out the door.

We both sat in the car and looked at each other. Matt looked at you with such lust, and reached over to the passenger seat giving you a soft passionate kiss.

You felt the throbbing start between your legs.

You pulled away.

“Matt! at least wait until we go somewhere else that’s not the driveway” you laughed. “They’ll see us through the window.”

As you were driving, not really knowing where we were going to go, Matt had his hand on your thigh, hand going up your skirt.

“Matt..” you moan.

He reached up to your clit, rubbing gentle circles on it.

You purposely took off your underwear before you left for the store.

You spread your legs out, letting him do his thing.

You could see him rock hard through his grey sweatpants.

“Baby, look an empty parking lot.” You pointed.

He took his hand away from your clit, and you groaned at the loss of contact. He never pulled into a parking lot so fast.

He put the car in park. He put his seat back as far as it could go. You took off your seatbelt and jumped over into the drivers side straddling him.

You started passionately kissing him. Sloppy kisses because of how horny you both were. He started moving to place kisses all down your neck. You moaned at the contact to your neck.

“I’m so excited to finally be able to do this” he whispered.

You could feel his clothed boner underneath you. You started to grind back and forth. He reached his hands down to your hips to guide you.

“I need you Matt” you moaned out. “I need you right now.”

“Just wait baby, we need to take in this moment. It’s been a while, let’s take our time.” Matt whined out.

You started to make out again. Hands going all over each others bodies. Matt lifts up your shirt.

“No bra, huh?” He whispers.

You giggle into his kisses.

He starts to play with your tits, moving his thumbs over your nipples.

You moan in Matt’s mouth.

“Matt- please. I need you right now.” You say tugging at the waistband of his jeans.

Matt gives in.

You move your body up off of his while he pulls down his jeans and boxers.

You were wearing no underwear under your skirt so it was perfect.

You lined his dick up with your entrance. Matt was placing sloppy kisses down your neck.

You sank down, and put all of Matt in you. You took in a second to realize this is finally happening. It’s been 10 days and you’re going crazy.

You start moving up and down on Matt’s dick, leaning down to kiss him as he leans back in the seat.

His hands rub up and down your back.

“You are so wet.” He said putting his hand down underneath you to rub your clit in small circles with his thumb.

When he started circling his thumb on your clit, you felt an immediate knot in your stomach knowing your orgasm was approaching.

“Matt- I- I’m really close” you moaned out.

“Already baby? You really needed me didn’t you?” He laughed.

You laughed and shook your head.

“Yup, I’m going to cum babe” you tilted your head back in pleasure. You started to shake on top of Matt.

“Good job baby, I’m almost there.” Matt moaned. Matt was a moaning mess.

Next thing you know you feel Matt’s cum spilling into you. He let out a whimper.

“This feels so good” he said as he was riding out his high.

You gave Matt a passionate slow kiss, and got off of his dick. He had tissue in his car which he wiped you with to clean you up. You fixed your hair, pulled down your skirt while Matt pulled up his pants.

“You ready for round 2 baby?” Matt joked.

You looked over at Matt laughing.

“Your family is going to wonder where we are. We still need to stop for the sour patch kids for your mom, and potentially snacks for us” you laughed. “Tomorrow we’re making up an excuse and coming out here again for round 2” you winked.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

I hope you guys enjoyed. 🥵

[impossible-rat-babies]

okay I’m thinking about it being the Island Sanctuary—especially the sanctuary part. here is Tataru who watched you tentatively walk into the waking sands. probably did all the paperwork to get you settled in with the scions. watched with bated breath as adventure after adventure swept you up in its path. Carried you to greater and greater heights and watched you grow. Watched you take on all these burdens out of love and duty.

How through all of that she probably still thinks back to you so fresh faced and walking through those doors. how much she loves how far you’ve grown, but is so scared of how hard it’s been. She can only do so much to help; she’s just a simple girl—she knows money, politics and how to sew. she cannot do fantastical things.

So she does what she does best and she comes away with a whole island. just for you. a place all to your own—to do with as you please. A place to rest. A sanctuary. far far away from the stress of life. because god if she doesn’t think about that baby faced adventurer who came through her doors so very very long ago

[jikigo]

you ever just see a post and just

. 😭

.⬅️🫀⬅️

[cupiare]

walking into work tomorrow for the staff training day after i got rejected for the job i was near guaranteed to get and didn’t find out the news from my boss who i was with the whole morning in TUTOR PLANNING DAY FOR NEXT YR FOR TUTORIALS THAT TUTORS WOULD BE DOING THAT I WAS BOOKED INTO WITH THE TUTORS THE ROLE I APPLIED FOR AND HAD A VERY GOOD INTERVIEW FOR i found out from a noreply auto generated email from hr that was sent out as soon as i stepped out of the meeting room :) and then got invited back to the meeting for the rest of the day where my manager repeatedly talked about taking my good ideas from my interview and implementing them into tutorials next yr. after i got rejected via generated email. How we doing guys 😆

[bunnysfairy]

you’re trembling now, gasping, your thighs shaking as you bounce on her strap, but it’s not enough. your hand slows against your clit, and you whimper, looking down at her, still tied beneath you.

“can’t do it,” you finally admit, pouting as your hips falter. “can’t fuck myself the way you do. you’re too good.”

her eyes flash with a dangerous glint, a smirk tugging at her lips. “oh, baby, you finally ready to let me take care of you?”

you nod frantically, leaning over to untie her, your hands fumbling at the restraints as desperation takes over. “please,” you whisper. “i need you to fuck me. rough, mean- i can’t do it myself, please-”

as soon as her hands are free, she’s on you, flipping you over in one smooth motion, her arms caging you in. your heart races, excitement sparking through you as you expect her to finally ruin you the way you’ve been teasing her for all night.

but instead, she moves slowly, grinding her strap against you just enough to drive you crazy.

“oh, baby, you thought i’d let you get away with all that teasing?” she murmurs, her voice dripping with mock sweetness. “thought i’d just fuck you like you wanted, after everything you put me through?”

your pout deepens, and you try to buck your hips, but her hands hold you down easily. “please,” you beg, your voice cracking. “i need it so bad,-“

she chuckles darkly, leaning in to kiss your neck, her lips brushing softly against your skin. “oh, you’ll get it, princess. but not until i’ve had my fun.”

before you can argue, she grabs a vibrator from the nightstand, turning it on and pressing it into your hand. “here.” she says, her tone commanding. “you’re gonna hold this against your pretty little clit while i fuck you nice and slow, and you’re not gonna cum. not until i say so. got it?”

you whimper, your body already trembling at the thought, but you nod, pressing the toy to your clit as she starts to move her hips.

she’s slow, too slow. her thrusts are deep and torturous, dragging her strap out of you only to push back in at an agonizing pace. every time your hips try to move faster, she grabs them, holding you still with a wicked grin.

“so needy,” she mocks, her voice low and sharp. “look at you, all wet and desperate, ruining yourself with that toy. keep going, baby. i want to see you make yourself cry.”

you’re sobbing now, tears slipping down your cheeks as the vibrations build, your body twitching under her slow, relentless pace. “please,” you cry out, “please let me cum, i can’t-“

“no.” she growls, her hand wrapping around your throat, holding you in place. “you don’t get to cum until i say. when you feel it coming, you’re gonna pull the vibrator away. and i’m gonna pull out. you don’t deserve to cum yet.”

your chest heaves, panic bubbling up at the thought. “but, please, that’s-“

“do it.” she snaps, her voice cutting through your protests.

when your orgasm starts to build, your body trembling as the vibrations push you closer, you cry out, shaking as you pull the vibrator away and she pulls out just as you clench around nothing. it’s too much, the sensation of losing it all leaving you sobbing, your body twitching from the overstimulation with none of the release you craved.

“good girl,” she purrs, her voice dripping with condescension. “see? you can listen when you try.”

you shake your head frantically, tears streaming down your face as you clutch at her. “please, i can’t- don’t make me ruin it aga-“

“oh, you’re not done yet,” she says with a cruel smirk, grabbing your wrist and forcing the vibrator back into your hand. “again. and this time, i want to see you beg harder.”

you sob, your body trembling as you press the toy to your clit once more. her thrusts are still unbearably slow, her grip on your hips unbareable as you ruin yourself again. your orgasm slipping away just as she pulls out and your overstimulated body jerks against the sheets.

“pathetic,” she murmurs, her tone soft but biting. “you’re a crying, trembling little mess, aren’t you? you wanted this so bad, and now look at you. can’t even handle it.”

you’re sobbing openly now, your body shaking as you claw at her arms. “please,” you choke out, “please, i’ll be good- just let me cum, please- ”

her gaze softens slightly, and she cups your face, her thumb brushing away your tears. “there we go, bunny,” she murmurs. “you’ve finally learned your lesson, huh? such a good girl for me now.”

her hips snap forward, her pace rough and fast, finally giving you what you’ve been begging for all night. her hand slips between your bodies to rub your overstimulated clit, and you scream, your nails digging into her shoulders as your body arches beneath her.

“that’s it, baby,” she groans, her voice low and soft. “cum for me. let it all out.”

your orgasm crashes through you, leaving you shaking and sobbing in her arms, and this time, she doesn’t stop. she fucks you through the aftershocks, her hands soothing and grounding as she holds you close.

after, she pulls you into her lap, wrapping a blanket around you as she whispers soft praises. “you did so good, princess,” she murmurs, her lips brushing your temple. “so perfect for me. i’m so proud of you.”

she cleans you up gently, her touch careful and soft as she kisses every inch of your skin, holding you close until your breathing evens out. “i’ve got you,” she whispers. “always.”

[ari-ana-bel-la]

Could I request dad Alex with a two year old and her uncle George keeps stealing her away to the Mercedes garage?

Panda Poe

The paddock was already buzzing by the time Alex arrived, carrying his sugar-sweet little girl in his arms. Yn, all of two years old, blinked up at the early morning lights in her oversized bucket hat, clutching her stuffed panda to her chest. Her long lashes fluttered as she surveyed the bustling chaos around her, a little overwhelmed but comforted by the warmth of her father's hold.

Next to them, Carlos adjusted his sunglasses and stretched, a coffee cup already in hand. "She looks sleepy," he commented, peering at Yn, who gave a quiet yawn and snuggled closer to Alex's shoulder.

"She fell asleep in the car," Alex said, smiling as he rubbed circles on her back. "Didn’t want to wake her, but she insisted on coming with me this morning."

Carlos chuckled. "She's got your determination."

They had just stepped into the main stretch of the paddock when it happened—again.

"Oi!"

Alex didn't even get a chance to react. George appeared seemingly out of thin air, striding over with a grin that stretched from ear to ear. Without saying a word, he reached out and plucked Yn from Alex’s arms with the practiced ease of someone who had clearly done this many times before.

Yn blinked up at her godfather, recognized him, and gave the faintest smile. "Uncle Georgie," she whispered, pressing her cheek against his shoulder.

"Hello, sweetheart," George cooed, completely ignoring the baffled look on Alex’s face.

"Hey!" Alex called, laughing. "You can’t just keep stealing my daughter like this!"

"Too late! She’s mine now!" George called over his shoulder, already making a beeline for the Mercedes garage.

Carlos stared after them, eyes wide. "Did he just... kidnap your kid?"

"Every. Damn. Race," Alex muttered, sighing as he adjusted his backpack. "She barely gets a moment in the Williams garage anymore."

"At least she likes him."

"She loves him," Alex said. "He’s her favorite. I’m not even mad about it. Just... mildly offended."

—

Inside the sleek silver world of the Mercedes garage, George was already parading Yn around like she was a royal guest.

"She’s in her quiet mood today," he told one of the engineers, cradling her carefully as she observed everything with wide, curious eyes. "But if you talk to her about pandas, she might say something."

"Panda?" the engineer asked softly.

Yn looked at him, blinked, and shyly held out her toy. "This... Poe."

"Oh! He has a name! Poe, huh? That’s a very important-looking panda."

George smiled proudly. "She named him herself. Genius, this one."

From across the room, Toto approached with a rare, soft smile on his face. "And how is my favorite little guest today?"

Yn, still quiet, peered up at him and gave a small wave.

Toto leaned down and gently brushed his knuckles over her cheek. "You are being very brave, coming to this loud place."

George shifted her gently so she could lean back against his chest. "She’s used to it now. I think she likes the buzz."

Yn turned her head toward George. "Buzz," she repeated softly.

"See? She talks to me," George teased, winking.

In the corner, Kimi stood awkwardly, half behind one of the tires, watching Yn like she was a rare animal he wasn’t sure how to approach.

George noticed. "Kimi! Come here. She doesn’t bite, promise."

Kimi stepped forward, still tentative. He was young, incredibly fast, and utterly fearless on track, but the tiny human in George’s arms seemed to mystify him.

"She’s really little," Kimi said.

"She’s two. That’s standard issue," George replied with a grin.

Yn stared at Kimi with serious eyes, studying him. Then, slowly, she lifted Poe and offered him.

Kimi blinked. "For me?"

She nodded.

George beamed. "That’s the highest honor you can receive. You’ve officially been accepted."

Kimi took Poe gently, holding him with the care one might offer a Fabergé egg. "Thanks," he said, awkward but genuine.

"She’s quiet, but she watches everything," George said, shifting her so she could sit more comfortably in the crook of his arm. "Like someone else I know."

Kimi flushed slightly. "Not that quiet."

"Oh, you're a chatterbox compared to her."

Yn leaned her head against George’s collarbone, eyes starting to droop. It was barely past nine in the morning.

George looked down at her fondly. "Think she’ll nap again. This is my favorite part."

—

Meanwhile, Alex finally arrived at the Williams hospitality area, only to be met by his team principal.

"Let me guess," the man said with a smirk. "George?"

"George," Alex confirmed. "I swear, I’m going to start putting a tracker on my own daughter."

Carlos laughed behind him. "You know what’s wild? She doesn’t even fight it. She just goes with him. Like he’s some sort of baby whisperer."

Alex exhaled heavily, pulling out his phone. "At least he always sends me photos."

Sure enough, a notification blinked on his screen—George had sent a picture of Yn curled up on his chest, eyes closed, Poe tucked under her chin. The caption read: We’re taking our pre-FP1 nap. Will return the princess at lunch.

Alex rolled his eyes but couldn’t help smiling.

—

Back in the Mercedes garage, George had settled himself into a quiet corner with Yn asleep against him. Kimi, after a few minutes of pretending not to care, sat beside him.

"She’s really calm. Doesn’t cry or fuss."

"Only when she’s hungry or tired," George said. "She likes quiet people. You should talk to her sometime when she’s awake. She’d like you."

Kimi glanced at the small girl. "What if I say the wrong thing?"

George grinned. "Mate, you’re talking to someone who panicked the first time she sneezed. You’ll be fine."

A few of the mechanics passed by, smiling or waving. Yn had become a bit of a paddock legend—tiny, quiet, and always dressed in soft colors and sunhats.

Toto walked by again, giving the duo a warm look. "I hope you plan to return her eventually, George."

"Eventually," George said. "But maybe after qualifying. Maybe."

Yn stirred slightly and opened her eyes, looking around sleepily.

George kissed the top of her head. "Hey, starlight. You woke up just in time. Want to see the car?"

She nodded slowly, thumb in her mouth.

George stood carefully and carried her over to the edge of the garage, pointing out his car. "That one’s mine. And Kimi’s is next to it. See the shiny wheels?"

Yn blinked at the car, then turned to George. "You fast?"

He laughed, eyes crinkling. "The fastest, sweetheart."

She looked back at the car, then whispered, "Zoom."

George glanced at Kimi, who was standing nearby. "I told you. Baby genius."

Kimi nodded solemnly. "Zoom."

And Yn giggled. A soft, delighted sound that made everyone within earshot smile.

George beamed. "That’s it. You’re never getting her back, Alex. She’s ours now."

Somewhere, in the Williams hospitality suite, Alex sneezed.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♥︎♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Authors Note: Hey guys. I hope you enjoyed reading this. I had so much fun writing this story. My requests are always open for you.

-🤍🦢

[helaintoloki]

Misunderstanding

pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!reader

warnings/notes: angst, reader is described as timid/shy, fluff

a/n: this prompt was sent in as a request! hope you all enjoy <3

summary: you accept Bucky’s invitation to attend Tony’s charity gala as his date, but your night quickly turns sour when you find out about his bet with Natasha

Your hands tremble as you raise the gun towards your target and fixate your aim on the bullseye. You’ve never handled a weapon like this before, but your novice status in the shooting range isn’t what has you feeling so nervous.

“Relax your arms a bit,” Bucky suggests, his hands gently resting on your biceps as he positions them in the correct form. His chest is pressed against your back, strong arms encasing you against him while he uses his leg to gently nudge your own into the proper stance. His metal hand comes to rest on yours and adjust your aim so that it’s aligned with the target across the way from you both. You hope he can’t hear the rapid beating of your heart or feel the growing perspiration resulting from being so close to the man, and you hope he doesn’t take notice of the fact that your powers are slowly manifesting themselves around you in result of your emotions.

You’ve been an Avenger for a few months now, having joined the team after they’d been sent to investigate an environmental disturbance in a quiet California town. You had just developed your powers after becoming an unwilling test subject for your father’s experiments and had little to no control over your ability to manipulate the flora around you. The city had been turned into your own arboretum overrun with a multitude of different plants, some more dangerous than others, and it was only with their help had you been able to clean up the mess.

Your first months training had been spent solely focusing on controlling your powers, managing your emotions to prevent plants from popping up in places they didn’t belong, but this was easier said than done. Your abilities still had the tendency to activate even when you didn’t want them to, but you were doing much better now with practice. Your regime had slowly begun to include more practical elements like hand-to-hand combat, stealth, and weaponry. That’s how you ended up alone in the shooting range with Bucky who had been more than happy to help you learn.

“Now when you’re ready, pull the trigger,” his encouraging voice sounds in your ear.

You clicked with Bucky almost immediately after joining the team. As a victim of scientific experimentation himself, he understood the trepidation you held towards your abilities and the loss of autonomy you were experiencing. He was a calming presence that provided you with comfort every time you felt like your body was turning against you, and it wasn’t long before he decided to take you under his wing. You’d become fast friends in no time, and it was a rare occurrence at the tower to see one of you without the other.

Calming your nerves, you let out a slow exhale before pulling the trigger. You watch anxiously as the bullet flies out of the barrel and hits your target dead on.

“Right on the mark!” Bucky compliments proudly before removing himself from you. You find yourself already missing the closeness, but you play it cool by flashing him a bashful smile. Your joy has already begun to present itself as tiny daisies bloom at your feet, but the super soldier doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest. “See, wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“I just got lucky,” you admit with a sheepish shrug. Bucky laughs before giving you an encouraging pat on the back.

“You just need some practice. I’m sure you’ll be able to start shooting at moving targets in no time.”

“She’s a natural, isn’t she?” A third voice chimes. You turn your heads to find Natasha standing in the doorway, a knowing smile on her face as she greets you two with a nod before settling her gaze on Bucky. “Steve’s asking for you. Wants to talk strategy for the mission you two were assigned.”

“Right,” Bucky sighs before turning to you. “I’m going to be gone for a few days. Will you be alright without me?”

“I’ll manage,” you joke with a halfhearted smile that Bucky is quick to match. Your heart nearly jumps out of your chest from the way his blue eyes stare down at you, and you hope neither he nor Natasha can pick up on your nerves.

“Don’t worry, Barnes,” Natasha quips as she comes to wrap an arm around your frame, “she’ll be in good hands while you’re gone.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” he affirms with a nod, bidding you both a goodbye before making his way to Steve.

You’d been holding back your powers for as long as you could in Bucky’s presence, so once the man is gone you let out a sigh of relief and finally release the tension within you. Red carnations bloom in a circle around you before quickly wilting once you will them away with a wave of your hand. You wish your abilities weren’t so intertwined with your thoughts, and you wish you weren’t so infatuated with your teammate.

“Rough day of training?” Natasha prompts with a raised brow.

“Just overwhelmed, I guess,” you offer with a weak shrug before gesturing to your surroundings, “and a bit intimidated by all of this.”

“You’ll get the hang of it,” she assures you with a faint smile. “It just takes time.”

You settle into a comfortable silence as you begin to clean up the mess left behind from your training session. Natasha simply watches on in silence, but you can tell by the look on her face that she’s heavily contemplating her next words.

“So you and Barnes?” She finally prompts, acting as inconspicuously as possible. You stiffen slightly at the question but immediately regain your composure as you unload your gun.

“What about me and Barnes?” You retort as nonchalantly as possible, though the mere mention of the man has your heart skipping a beat.

“You guys have gotten awfully close these last few months.”

“He’s a good friend,” you retort defensively, but it’s clear that Natasha isn’t buying your story. Her gaze suddenly becomes fixated on your head, and you watch with uncertainty as she reaches forward and lightly plucks something out of your hair. You blanch at the sight of the rosebud in her hand and try to avoid her knowing stare.

“You like him, don’t you?” She says with a coy smile.

“God, please don’t tell anyone,” you beg her in earnest while snatching the flower away, eyes full of panic and desperation. You thought you were doing well at hiding your little crush on Bucky, but you should have known better than to think an amateur like you could fool a top agent like Natasha.

“My lips are sealed, but even if I wanted to tell I think these flowers would end up blowing your cover before I could.”

“I can’t help it!” You exclaim in exasperation. “Wanda has been helping me learn to control my thoughts, but it’s like that all goes out the window whenever I’m with him.”

“Have you ever considered telling him?” She asks with a raised brow as if it’s the most obvious solution.

“Are you crazy? I think I’d rather die.”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” she scoffs with an amused roll of her eyes. “What’s the harm in playing the field?”

“I doubt there’s any part of him that sees me as more than the new teammate he has to babysit,” you denote woefully, clearly having already accepted defeat in your predicament. “Why risk making things horribly awkward for everyone?”

“It’ll only be horribly awkward if he actually rejects you,” Natasha reminds you thoughtfully, “and he won’t. But, Bucky also won’t make the first move either, so you have to.”

“Fat chance,” you murmur under your breath before turning to the armory to return your gun. You miss the look of determination that flashes across her features as she mulls over your conversation. It’s clear to her that your feelings for Bucky aren’t something that can just be swept under the rug, and she’s well aware of the fact that you won’t be able to muster up the courage to voice your feelings.

It seems it’ll be up to her to make the first move on your behalf.

~~~

“Y/n, just the person I wanted to see!” Tony’s voice calls, prompting you to halt in your tracks and remove your headphones. You’d just finished a workout session with Thor and were dying to let your aching muscles relax under a hot shower, but it seems your teammate had other plans.

“What is it?” You press gently while slowing your brisk pace so that Tony can walk alongside you in the hall. You watch with piqued interest as he pulls an envelope out of his pocket and hands it over to you.

“This, my dear, is an invitation to your very first charity gala,” he replies proudly. “I’ve already taken the liberty of RSVPing for you, so consider this as more of a formality than anything.”

“Charity gala?” You retort with a raised brow.

“Stark Industries throws one every year to raise money for good causes around the world, and it’s customary that every Avenger attends.”

“I don’t know,” you drawl nervously, already anxious at the thought of a huge party full of random strangers who know you as the girl that almost turned the state of California into an uninhabitable forest.

“You’re an Avenger now, sweetheart,” Tony reminds you thoughtfully, “and this will be a great way to introduce our newest member to the public and let them get to know you more. You wouldn’t say no to charity, would you?”

“No,” you sigh in defeat, clearly bested by Tony’s guilt tripping. You will yourself to open the envelope and take in the extravagant detailing on the card listing the time and date for the event. You’re not exactly the most extroverted person on the team, but you figure if you can fight world ending threats with no problem then you should be able to stomach one night of being paraded around like a show pony. “I guess I better find something to wear.”

“There’s the spirit,” Tony grins cheekily, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his wallet before producing his credit card. “You know what, since this is your first event why don’t you take my card and buy something new. Sky’s the limit.”

You look at him stunned before hesitantly pocketing the card and thanking the man for his generosity. You never imagined that one day you’d be able to have access to Tony Stark’s credit card, but then again, you also never imagined you’d be living under the same roof as Captain America and Black Widow.

After your conversation with Tony, you finally make your way back to your own room and step into the shower to freshen up. You spend most of it anxiously mulling over the upcoming gala and worrying about how you’re going to present yourself. You hate being perceived by strangers, but you suppose that’s what happens when you become a public figure.

Once you make yourself presentable again, you roam the tower in search of Wanda to seek out some guidance for your attire. You make your way through the hallways hoping to run into her after finding her bedroom empty, but you instead stumble upon a hushed conversation taking place in the kitchen. You falter slightly at the sound of Natasha’s voice, and though you can’t make out what she says you’re curious to know what she could be speaking so secretively about. Not wanting to eavesdrop, you make your presence known by rounding the corner only to be met with the startled faces of Nat and Bucky.

“Bucky?” You retort in surprise, stomach already twisting with nerveous knots the moment you meet his eyes. “I didn’t know you were back.”

“Just got back an hour ago,” he explains with a tired smile, but you don’t miss the way he subtly shoots a glance at Natasha before returning his gaze to you. The two look suspicious, almost as if you’d caught them in the middle of something you weren’t mean to be privy of, and though you tried to ignore it you felt unnerved. You didn’t think your teammates capable of keeping secrets from you, especially not Bucky or Natasha, but it seemed apparent that they knew something you didn’t and intended to keep it that way.

“I’m glad you made it back safe,” you offer with a timid smile, swallowing down your nerves to keep your powers at bay. You can feel the itchiness on your palms resulting from a flower attempting to bloom and decide it’s best to make your exit as quickly as possible. “I, uh… I guess I’ll leave you two alone now.”

“You don’t have to go,” Bucky assures you with a frown, but you quickly shake your head and already begin making your exit before he can argue further.

“I have to find Wanda,” you answer almost breathlessly. You quicken your pace before either of them can stop you, your heart pounding in your chest and thorn covered vines trailing in your wake at the sudden emotional discomfort you’re experiencing.

You can’t help but to think you’d accidentally walked in on an intimate moment between the two and perhaps discovered a secret bond they shared. Your stomach flipped violently at the thought. Surely Bucky and Natasha weren’t involved romantically, were they? You knew she could be harsh, but you don’t think she’d be cruel enough to fill your head with encouragement to pursue Bucky just to end up pursing him herself.

You give up on your plans to find Wanda and instead shut yourself into your room for the remainder of the evening to wallow in your ruminative overthinking. You’re left to your own devices for a good hour before a knock sounds at your bedroom door.

“Come in,” you call out quietly. You watch on in interest as your door slowly creeps open so Bucky can peek his head inside.

“You got a minute?” He asks with a bashful smile that makes it impossible to deny him. You give him a small nod and watch as the man makes his way into your room before timidly seating himself on the edge of your bed. “I wanted to talk to you earlier but you sort of just bolted out of there.”

“Sorry,” you reply with a meek smile, eyes glancing away towards the floor. “I was feeling a little overwhelmed about Tony’s charity gala. Plus, it looked like you and Natasha were having a pretty intense conversation…”

“Right, that,” Bucky says with a sigh.

You muster up the courage to peek over at him and ask, “Are you two…?”

“What? No, of course not,” he quickly interjects, and despite the subtle guilt that arises within you, you feel relieved to hear him say this. “I know it might have looked suspect, but I was actually talking to her about you.”

“Me?” You repeat in surprise, shifting closer to the soldier and hanging onto his every word. A fond smile washes over him as he sets his eyes upon you and carefully reaches for your hand.

“I wanted to know if I’d have a shot at being your date to Tony’s charity gala,” Bucky admits with a charming grin. Your heart nearly leaps out of your chest, and you can’t help the sudden triggering of your powers as bushes of roses plant themselves around your bed. Your face heats with embarrassment at the display, but the giddy smile on your face says otherwise as you look to Bucky with wide eyes.

“You want to be my date?” You repeat in disbelief, nearly swooning when Bucky carefully picks a rose from beside him and hands it to you.

“I’d be honored if you’ll have me,” he utters sincerely, voice gentle and eyes full of admiration as he gazes upon your flushed face.

“Of course I’ll have you!” You exclaim, all inhibitions thrown out the window as you fling yourself into his arms and tightly embrace the super soldier. He lets out a soft laugh before gently wrapping his arms around your figure and encasing you against him. You never would have dreamed that Bucky would be hugging you so tightly in your room, that you’d ever be going to a charity gala as his date, or that he’d ever return your affections so sweetly as he was now. You’re overjoyed, a multitude of colorful flowers blooming around you much to Bucky’s amusement.

You suddenly find that you’re not so nervous now about Tony’s party.

~~~

“Hold still,” Wanda scolds lightly as she carefully swipes the makeup brush across your eyelids.

“I can’t help it, it tickles!” You retort defensively only for the witch to roll her eyes in amusement.

The night of the gala had finally arrived, and you were grateful for the fact that Wanda had been more than thrilled to handle your makeup for you. You worried your nerves would prevent you from creating a flawless look, and you entrusted her steady hands much more than your own trembling ones. You had purchased the perfect dress and jewelry to match, and all you were missing was a pair of heels to go along with it.

“I found them,” Natasha’s voice announces as she enters the room with the shoes she’d offered to lend you. “These should fit perfect for you.”

“You’re a lifesaver,” you gush in earnest, earning a pleased smile from her in response.

“Barnes is going to lose his mind when he sees you tonight,” she compliments with a wink.

“I had a feeling about you two,” Wanda adds teasingly as she puts the finishing touches on your makeup. “I’ve caught him thinking about you when you’re not around. He’s smitten.”

You smile bashfully at the floor in response to their comments and nervously rub your arm as you think about Bucky. You’ve been waiting for this night for weeks, and now that it’s here you couldn’t be more excited. You were finally going to spend a romantic evening with the man you’d harbored feelings for since joining the team, and you had high hopes that the night would end with your friendship becoming something more.

After Wanda finishes your makeup and Natasha helps you learn how to balance in the heels, you make your way downstairs where Bucky waits patiently in his best suit and tie. His eyes brighten when they land on you, and you let out an embarrassed laugh when he releases a long whistle at the sight of you.

“You look absolutely gorgeous,” he compliments in earnest before taking your hand in his own and prompting you to twirl. “Come on, give me a little spin.”

You do as requested and giggle in delight at the attention you’re receiving. You always thought yourself to be fairly pretty, but Bucky makes you feel like you’re the most gorgeous woman on the planet. His eyes rake over your figure and admire every detail of your ensemble while still managing to be respectful of your person. You never thought the man who always appeared so solemn and reserved on the outside could be so romantically sweet.

“You don’t think it’s too much?” You ask meekly, somewhat apprehensive about your look. This isn’t how you’d typically style yourself, and though you enjoy the glamour and excitement that come with attending the gala you’re worried about how the public will perceive your image as the newest Avenger.

“I think you look perfect,” Bucky assures you before opening your door and helping you into the car. The drive is filled with quiet conversation as he informs you on what to expect at a Stark party and how to expertly avoid nosy reporters. You’re absolutely enamored by the Winter Soldier, and you don’t think you’ve ever felt as secure as you do now alongside Bucky.

Just as Bucky had warned you, a gaggle of journalists surround your car as you arrive at the party. You feel the nerves beginning to overtake you, but Bucky’s gentle touch against your arm brings you back down to earth as he assures you he’s got your back. He helps you out of the car and allows you to take his arm before guiding you up the stairs into the building. You’re blinded by the flash of cameras and overwhelmed by the multitude of voices that try to get your attention, something Bucky can sense by the way your grip on his arm tightens.

“Don’t worry,” he assures you, leaning in close enough for you to feel his breath fan against your ear as he whispers, “I’ve got you.”

You feel your heart nearly burst from the gentleness of the words and the way he lovingly gaze down at you. Everything around you seems to melt away when your eyes meet his own blue ones, and all your mind can comprehend is Bucky- the smell of his cologne, the way the corners of his eyes crinkle with his smile, the softness of his touch. You’re completely enamored, and you hope he feels as strongly as you do.

Despite your initial apprehension towards the charity gala, the night almost seems to go seamlessly for you and the Avengers. Tony is able to secure generous donations from his richest guests, your teammates are able to relax for a rare night of festivities, and since gaining your powers you’re finally able to feel comfortable in your own skin.

Halfway through the party you end up on the dance floor with Bucky, your head resting against his shoulder as he holds you close and gently sways you in time to the slow song being played by the band. Despite the excitement you feel, you’ve been able to keep your powers at bay the entire night.

“You having a good time?” Bucky asks after twirling you on the dance floor. You smile as he immediately pulls you back into his arms, finding solace in him as you drape your arms around his neck.

“It’s not as scary as I thought it would be,” you admit with a sheepish smile. “I was afraid I’d mess it all up, but Tony says the journalists loved me.”

“Why wouldn’t they?” Bucky says adamantly. “You’re sweet and funny and so strong.”

“You really mean that?”

“Course I do,” he assures you with a charming wink. You let out a quiet laugh and bashfully look away only for Bucky to gently grab your chin and redirect your gaze back to his own. “You’re the prettiest girl in this entire room, and I’m the luckiest guy to get to have you on my arm tonight.”

You swallow nervously as you meet his intense stare, unused to having him look upon you in such a way. Bucky had always been sweet on you, but you assumed his kindness was a result of platonic affection and understanding for the new girl on the team. You were vulnerable and alone when you first joined the Avengers, and you assumed the extra care he gave you was merely him trying to smoothen your transition into the life of a hero. But now, with eyes boring into your soul while his metal hand gently presses against the small of your back to bring you closer to him, it seems as if your hopes for his affection are finally coming true.

“Bucky?” You murmur softly, stomach twisting itself into nervous knots.

“Yeah, doll?”

“I’ve been wanting to tell you that I… well, I-“

“Mind if I cut in?” A voice interrupts, startling you both out of the moment as you turn to meet Natasha’s expectant gaze. She looks between you both with a raised before asking, “Did I interrupt something?”

“No, not at all,” you quickly interject before Bucky can answer. You look to the man with an apologetic smile in search of approval. “I’ll find you after this dance, okay?”

“Sure,” he relents with an understanding nod, “I’ll get us some drinks in the meantime.”

You watch his figure disappear into the crowd before allowing Natasha to pull you in for a dance. You shamelessly let her take the lead as she guides your steps to match with hers, and she wears a knowing smirk on her face as she looks to you. “I didn’t mean to interrupt the moment, but I wanted to see how things were going.”

“I’m kind of glad you did,” you offer with a despondent sigh. “I almost told him how I feel.”

“What? That’s great!” Natasha retorts, confusion clearly etched on her features. “I feel like you should be more upset with me than you are right now.”

“I’m just afraid of the possibility that I could be reading it all wrong. I mean, I know he asked me to be his date, but what if this is just a one-night only type of deal? Steve said Bucky was a charmer back in his day, so maybe he’s just trying to be nice and show me a good time.”

“Wow,” the redhead breathes out with a shake of her head. “You really are dense.”

“Natasha!” You exclaim in offense only to receive an eye roll in response.

“If you can’t see how completely enamored that man is with you then I can’t help you,” she states bluntly. In a gentler tone now, Natasha gives your hip an encouraging squeeze before continuing, “I have never seen you as sure or confident in yourself as you’ve been tonight, so don’t be so quick to revert back to doubting your worth. You deserve to get what you want.”

Despite the initial harshness of her words, you know that Natasha is right. You’ve worked hard these last few months to earn your spot on the team, to prove your capabilities, and to force yourself out of your protective shell. Gaining your powers and overrunning an entire city with plants had been terrifying but you’d gotten through it, so there was no reason to believe you couldn’t handle putting yourself out there and sharing with Bucky the feelings you’d been harboring for him. His actions tonight were clear indicators that the possibility of him viewing you in more than a platonic lens was real, and if a woman like Natasha who’d been trained to easily read others could clearly see his interest in you, then you shouldn’t have any ounce of doubt left within you.

“You’re right,” you utter undauntedly with a firm nod of your head. “I should just get over my fears and tell him how I feel.”

“There’s the spirit,” Natasha retorts with a proud smirk. She releases you once your dance is over and sends you off with a wink, watching on proudly as you leave to search for Bucky. “Good luck!”

You manage to push your way through the crowded banquet halls towards the bar, but Bucky isn’t there. Your eyes anxiously scan the room for any sign of your date, and you’re barely able to catch sight of him stepping out onto the patio with Steve and Sam. You smile in relief before briskly making your way over to him. You’re not as nervous as you thought you’d be, and your body feels as if it’s vibrating with the exhilaration you feel at finally taking charge in your life for once. You don’t want to be the shy or timid Avenger your teammates know you as any longer; you want to be seen as someone who knows what she wants and is sure in her ability to achieve it, and you hope that after tonight you’ll be able to prove that.

The cool night air sends immediate shivers across your bare arms as you reach the doorway to the patio. The three men have their backs turned to you as they converse amongst one another away from the crowded party, enjoying a moment of peace free of reporters and fanatic guests. You know that you should make yourself known instead of eavesdropping, yet you can’t help but falter when you hear your name arise in the conversation.

“So you and y/n?” Steve prompts with a pleased smile. “You two looked like you were having a lot of fun out on the dance floor.”

“She’s great, isn’t she?” Bucky voices, admiration present in his tone. You feel your heart swell with bliss at hearing the way he talks so fondly of you when he thinks you’re not around, and it only makes you more sure of your decision to tell him how you feel.

“I like you two together,” his friend says with sincerity. “I think you’ve both helped each other come out of your shells.”

“Not to mention she makes you less grumpy,” Sam notes with a playful smirk. “I just can’t believe you managed to pull off getting her to agree to come as your date tonight. She’s gorgeous and clearly way out of your league.”

You muffle your quiet laugh with your hand and decide that now is probably a good time to reveal yourself to save Bucky from Sam’s teasing, but his next words have you stopped dead in your tracks.

“Well, it wasn’t really my idea,” he explains while uncomfortably running a hand through his hair. “Natasha put me up to it.”

You can practically feel your heart sinking in your chest as the words settle into your mind. Your lips part in quiet shock and your stomach tightens in disgust at the reality you’re met with.

“Natasha?” Steve retorts with a raised brow. Bucky nods.

“We made a deal that she’d take over my next field assignment for me if I got y/n to be my date to Tony’s party.”

You slowly shake your head in disbelief and begin to back away as the weight of his confession sinks down onto your mind. You thought that Bucky was finally beginning to see you the way you see him, that he meant it when he said how lucky he was to have you on his arm tonight, that you were finally crossing over from being platonic friends to something more.

But it had all been a lie.

Sam turns to set his glass on a nearby table only to freeze when he sees you standing there. He takes in your trembling figure and wide eyes and is quickly able to piece together the fact that you’d heard everything.

“Shit,” he curses under his breath, garnering the attention of both men as all three now turn to find you lingering in the doorway. Bucky’s face falls as he makes contact with your glossy eyes and trembling lips.

“Y/n,” he utters remorsefully, taking a step towards you only for you to step back.

“I can’t believe you,” you manage to get out in a quivering voice, holding back a sob before quickly turning and making your exit.

You’re overwhelmed by the music that now feels like it’s blaring in your ears and the suffocation that overtakes you as you push through the crowded hall. You feel like you can’t breathe, and all you want is to get out of this party as fast as possible so you can return to the tower.

“Y/n, wait!” Bucky’s voice calls after, garnering the attention of a few onlookers who pause their conversations to watch the super soldier chase after you. He finally catches up to you once you make it to the front room away from the party, gently grasping onto your hand to halt your frenzied escape. “Doll, let me explain-“

“Explain what?” You spit harshly despite the tears that fall down your cheeks. “That you lied to me? That you only brought me here because of some stupid bet?!”

“It’s not like that,” he insists only for you to yank your hand away with a frustrated groan.

“Really? Because that’s what it sounded like to me,” you utter in quiet disbelief. “I can’t believe I actually fell for it.”

“You weren’t supposed to hear that,” Bucky pleads gently before carefully reaching out for your arm. His words only infuriate you further, prompting thorns to sprout from your skin and protect you from his touch.

“Oh, right, because that makes it better,” you retort sarcastically. “I actually thought that you could like me the way I like you… I let you make me believe that I was the prettiest girl in the room and that you could actually want to be with me.”

Your shoulders tremble as you let out a quiet sob, and Bucky can only watch on in despair as he tries to remedy the situation he’d created. He never meant to hurt you, and he hated to see you cry as a result of his own actions.

“Y/n, come on,” he urges you softly, now using his metal hand to try and reach for you. “Let me fix this, let me explain everything and I promise-“

“You want to fix this?” You interrupt in a shaky voice, swallowing down another sob that threatens to fall before backing away from the man. “Then leave me alone. I want nothing to do with you.”

“Y/n…”

“Congratulations on winning your bet,” you utter despondently before slamming the doors shut behind you and leaving Bucky to ruminate in the mess he’d created.

It was never supposed to be like this.

~~~

You haven’t left your room since returning from the party last night.

Your evening of glamour and excitement had come crashing down after your argument, and once you got home you immediately rid yourself of all remnants of the charity gala. You initially had been filled with anger and rage, but all you felt now was an embarrassing sadness. Natasha had filled your head with fantasies and gotten your hopes up about Bucky only for you to end up humiliated. A rational part of you knew she must have meant well by bribing Bucky into taking you to the charity gala as his date, but you wished she never would have meddled in the first place.

You don’t think you can ever stand to be around him let alone even look at him after hearing him talk about your night as if it was something less tedious to be done in comparison to being sent out into the field. You thought you were worth more to him than a stupid bet to be made, but his words had clearly proven you wrong.

No one has attempted to enter your room since last night, though it’s not like they could even if they tried considering you’d barricaded your door with a wall of prickling vines and thorn bushes to block their path. You didn’t want to see or speak to anyone, even if you knew that eventually you’d have to face your teammates at some point.

As you try to pass the time by tending to the plants littered around the room, a knock at the door interrupts the peaceful atmosphere you’ve created. You’re honestly surprised someone had managed to pull it off considering the multitude of thorns should have stopped them from doing so, but you make no move to answer it.

“Y/n, it’s me,” Bucky’s voice sounds, prompting you to bristle with unease. The thorns on the outside grow larger, but this does not deter the super soldier who uses his metal arm to knock against them. “Please talk to me. You have no idea how much this is killing me.”

“I told you I want nothing to do with you,” you shout back wrathfully. “Leave me alone!”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t do that doll.”

“Why don’t you go make another deal with Natasha and bet you can get me to open the door,” you retort sarcastically much to Bucky’s dismay. The quiet and timid girl he’d been so used to was nowhere to be found now, and you weren’t about to let him win you over again with charming flatteries.

Bucky groans in frustration, moving to walk away only to halt in his steps and turn back towards your door. He’s determined to get through to you, and despite the cold shoulder you’re giving him he’s not going to give up until you hear him out.

“Fine, you don’t have to open the door,” he says calmly, hands raised in surrender as he ceases his pounding. "I’ll just talk to you from here.”

You roll your eyes at his statement and try to block out his voice as you water your plants, but you can’t help the part inside of you that desperately wants to know why he would ever stoop so low to use you as leverage in a bet. You adored him, but he’d broken your heart, and you felt you did deserve an answer even if you didn’t want to hear it. You don’t respond to his proclamation, but you also don’t interrupt him, and Bucky takes this as a sign to keep going.

“I know I screwed up, and I shouldn’t have agreed to making that deal, but you have to understand that I didn’t ask you out just to get out of a field assignment,” Bucky says earnestly, prompting you to pause your ministrations and set your watering can aside as you slowly make your way closer to the door. “I worded it all wrong when I was telling Steve and Sam, and you didn’t give me the chance to explain myself.”

“When I came home from my mission with Steve, Natasha cornered me in the kitchen to talk to me about Tony’s charity gala. I had no plans to attend whatsoever until she warned me that if I didn’t go, some other guy would get the chance to sweep you off your feet instead. And I realized… I realized I didn’t want that to happen.”

Your eyebrows raise slightly at his confession before furrowing in confusion. You recalled the night you’d stumbled upon him with Nat in the kitchen, and you remember he had explicitly told you they’d been discussing you. You hadn’t been able to hear anything said between the two, and you were now finally learning for the first time what they’d been so secretively conversing about.

“She said I didn’t have the guts to man up and ask you out,” he says quietly, features forlorn as he leans back against the wall. “She bet I’d be too scared to ever make the first move, and I wanted to prove her wrong. I didn’t make that deal because I thought it would be an easy way to get out of work or to humiliate you. I did it because I like you, and I would hate for Natasha to be right about me letting some other lucky guy win you over all because I was too scared to open my mouth and tell you how I feel.”

A heavy silence fills the hallway as Bucky stands with bated breath before your door and waits for any sort of response from the other side. A part of him fears that you hadn’t heard a word he’d said, or even worse, had heard everything and simply chose to ignore it. However, just when he feels like giving up and finally leaving you alone, the vines guarding your room slowly begin to rescind until there’s nothing left. The door slides open and reveals your hesitant figure standing on the other side. Neither of you speaks at first, too nervous to make the first move, but after a moment you finally work up the nerve to talk.

“You said you wanted to tell me how you feel,” you utter softly, taking a nervous swallow before continuing, “so tell me.”

Bucky can’t help but to smile after finally being able to see you again, and you watch in uncertainty as he takes a step towards you and carefully takes your hands in his.

“I’ve had feelings for you since the day you touched my metal arm and accidentally made daises bloom around it,” he voices with an affectionate grin. “You make me want to be a better man every time I’m around you, and I know that if you gave me the chance I’d do everything in my power to be the guy you deserve.”

You bite back the tears that begin to well at his confession, a smile playing upon your trembling lips as you listen to Bucky say the words you’ve only ever dreamed about hearing. You can see the sincerity swimming in his eyes and know that he isn’t lying to make you feel better. What he says is real, and he means it with every fiber of his being.

“I believe you,” you relent quietly, “and I’m sorry I didn’t give you the chance to apologize.”

“I’m the idiot who should be apologizing,” Bucky avows with a chuckle while giving your hands a gentle squeeze. “I shouldn’t have needed a bet to tell you how I feel. Will you still have me, doll? Even after how stupid I’ve been?”

You giggle quietly as you pull him closer and prompt him to wrap his strong arms around your figure. You peer up to meet his loving gaze while gently placing a hand on his cheek, heart thrumming rapidly in your chest when he immediately melts at the feel of your touch. “Of course I’ll have you.”

Bucky bites back a smile, holding you close as he leans down to meet your lips in a kiss. Your arms find their way around his neck while his hands press against your back to hold you tightly against him as if he never wants to let you go again. The doorway once covered in thorns now blooms with beautiful roses, signifying your reconciliation with the man you adore.

Maybe that bet wasn’t so bad after all.

[pandapetals]

sunlight & sawdust

chapter one: marigolds & measuring tapes

| next chapter

summary: For two years, Joel Miller has done nothing but scowl at you from across the room, barely tolerating your warmth, your kindness, and your ever-present sunshine. And for two years, you’ve told yourself his gruffness doesn’t bother you—that his clipped words and cold stares don’t matter. But then, out of nowhere, he offers to fix the damaged floor in your flower shop. For free. Suddenly, the man who could barely stand to look at you is showing up every day, fixing things that don’t need fixing, sharing quiet lunches, and—most shocking of all—getting along with Ellie, your daughter, who has never warmed up to anyone as quickly as she has to him.

pairing: joel miller x fem!single mom reader - no outbreak/au

content warnings: slight reader description, no y/n used, grumpy joel, grumpy x sunshine trope, ellie is reader's daughter, reader is a single mom, tommy being a meddler, reader is friends with tommy, au setting in Austin, joel is a carpenter, reader owns a flower shop, fluff, angst and eventual smut, joel is bad at feelings, sarah mentioned

a/n: divider by @saradika-graphics.

Joel pushed open the glass door to the run-down diner, the bell above it jingling in protest. His eyes immediately found Tommy, already settled in one of the front booths, grinning like he had no place better to be. Tommy had insisted they get lunch—something about "brother time." Whatever the hell that meant, Joel wasn’t sure—it sounded like an excuse for Tommy to talk his ear off.

Still, Joel trudged over, sliding onto the worn leather seat across from him. He barely had a second to get comfortable before his stomach twisted—because, of course, you were here.

Standing at the counter, you leaned forward slightly as you spoke to the waitress, your voice too soft for Joel to hear over the hum of the diner. But he didn’t need to. He knew how you sounded—warm, patient, like everything that made his skin itch.

Tommy was your friend, though Joel never understood why. You doted on him like he was some kind of damn prince, always checking in, always making sure he was taken care of. It was ridiculous. You weren’t his wife. Hell, you weren’t even his girlfriend, but you looked at him like he hung the damn moon. And the worst part? Tommy let you.

Joel hated it.

He hated how you laughed at Tommy’s stupid jokes, the way your hand would rest on his arm absentmindedly. Hated how you never showed that same effortless affection toward him. No, with Joel, it was different. More careful. More…guarded.

A shadow passed over the table as you approached, carrying a plate and two steaming mugs.

"Got you some coffee and pancakes," you said, setting them down in front of Tommy with a smile that could warm an entire room. Your touch lingered for a second, fingers grazing the edge of the plate like you cared whether he ate enough. Then, your eyes flickered to Joel—briefly, uncertain—before darting away like you hadn’t looked at all.

"Coffee, just how you like it," you added, softer this time. And then, after a moment’s hesitation, "Mind if I sit?"

Tommy beamed, already scooting over to make space. "Course you can. Joel and I were just catching up—having some brother time."

Joel grunted, his gaze locked on you. You knew, didn’t you? Knew damn well that he didn’t like you, didn’t want you here. And yet, you smiled anyway, sliding into the booth beside Tommy like it didn’t bother you in the slightest. Like he didn’t bother you.

"That’s good," you said, reaching for your coffee. You didn’t look at Joel or acknowledge him when you spoke.

It shouldn’t have annoyed him.

Tommy threw an arm around your shoulders, grinning. "So, how’s business?"

Joel clenched his jaw, his fingers tightening around his coffee cup. The heat bled through the ceramic, grounding him, but it wasn’t enough to stop the irritation from creeping in.

It was one thing to tolerate you. One thing to see you in passing, to nod stiffly when social politeness forced him to.

But sitting here, watching you smile at Tommy and lean into him like he was the only person in the world worth your warmth—that was something else entirely.

"It’s been good, actually." You traced the rim of your coffee mug, voice light but edged with something quieter. "Didn’t think the flower shop would ever take off."

Your eyes flickered to Tommy, soft with appreciation—but there was hesitation there, too, like you weren’t entirely sure you believed in your own success.

Tommy, ever the optimist, gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "C’mon now, you do a real good job running that place. ‘Course it was gonna be successful."

Joel curled his fingers into a fist under the table, nails pressing into his palm. The whole exchange—it was too much. Too easy. Too natural. How Tommy touched you like it was second nature, the way you let him. The way you looked at him.

His irritation boiled over before he could stop it. "Do you two always gotta be so goddamn buddy-buddy?" The words came out sharper than he intended, a growl low in his throat.

Your head snapped up, a faint scowl replacing the warmth on your face. "Tommy’s a good friend to me."

Joel huffed, eyes narrowing. "Oh, really?" His voice dripped with doubt, the kind that crawled under his skin and stuck.

You frowned, glancing at Tommy as if he might have an answer for Joel’s problem. "We’ve been friends for… two years now?"

Tommy nodded. "Something like that."

Joel leaned back against the booth, arms crossed over his chest, his stare heavy on you. "Y’all hang out a lot?"

There was something in his tone, something pointed—but you couldn’t tell what. Suspicion? Judgment? Something else entirely?

"Whenever we can." You lifted your coffee to your lips, pausing before adding, "Usually, we grab lunch or go to a bar..." Your voice trailed off, confusion creeping in.

Why did it feel like an interrogation? Why did Joel always act like you were the problem? And despite the sharp edge in his voice, why did it seem like he was daring you to push back?

Joel scoffed, shifting in his seat like he was settling in for a fight. "Oh, I see." His arms folded tightly across his chest, muscles taut beneath the worn fabric of his flannel. "You two are just best of friends, then." The words dripped with something bitter, something he barely bothered to mask.

You exhaled slowly, fingers tightening around your coffee mug. Without thinking, your eyes flicked to Tommy, silently pleading for him to smooth over whatever this was.

Tommy sighed, setting his fork down with a clatter. He’d known Joel all his life—stubbornness was in his damn blood—but this? This thing he had against you? It never made sense.

"Joel," Tommy said, voice edged with exasperation. "Stop bein’ so damn rude to her. She’s my friend."

Joel’s jaw ticked.

You stayed quiet, watching the tension stretch across the table like a rope about to snap. Tommy was trying to keep things light, to brush past Joel’s temper like it could be ignored. But you weren’t stupid—you could see how Tommy’s shoulders squared, and Joel’s fingers drummed against the table like he was holding something back.

Joel wasn’t just being difficult. He was being deliberate.

His gaze flickered between you and Tommy, unreadable. "Why should I?" he shot back, low and cutting. His knuckles pressed against the table, a restless energy rolling off him in waves. "I’m not obligated to play nice, y’know."

Joel couldn’t understand what made you so damn special. Why Tommy liked you so much?

What did he even see in you?

You were a pain in Joel’s ass, all sunshine and softness in a way that rubbed him the wrong way—too warm, too open, too damn much. Why couldn’t Tommy see that?

But before Joel could snap out something sharp, you spoke first.

"Joel’s right."

The words came easy, calm. No bite, no sarcasm—just simple, matter-of-fact acceptance.

It caught all three of you off guard.

Tommy’s brows shot up. Joel blinked once, slow, like he hadn’t heard you right.

"He doesn’t have to play nice just for my sake," you added, lifting your coffee to your lips like his attitude didn’t touch you at all.

The silence at the table stretched thick and unmoving.

You exhaled softly, carefully setting your mug down before turning to Tommy. "I should go anyway."

Joel expected sarcasm, a little sting in your tone—hell, a glare at the very least. But instead, you smiled at Tommy, warm and genuine, like this wasn’t anything new. Like you weren’t the least bit bothered.

And that somehow irritated him more than anything you could’ve said.

"No, stay," Tommy insisted, cutting in before Joel could protest.

Joel’s jaw flexed, something unspoken brewing behind his eyes. His patience was already thin, but now his damn eye was twitching as he scrambled for a response—anything to regain some kind of ground. But for once, he had nothing.

You stood anyway, smoothing out the wrinkles in your sweater. "It’s okay," you assured Tommy, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "I gotta get to the flower shop."

Then, just to twist the knife a little deeper, you reached down and patted Tommy’s cheek, all affectionate and casual, like it was something you’d done a hundred times before.

Joel’s stomach tightened—with what, he refused to name.

"Enjoy the pancakes," you said, flashing Tommy one last smile before turning on your heel and heading for the door.

Joel watched you go, watched the way the early afternoon light spilled through the diner windows as you stepped outside.

The door shut behind you, the bell chiming softly.

Tommy shook his head with a low chuckle, reaching for his coffee. "Y’know, for someone who claims to hate her, you sure as hell stare a lot."

Joel gritted his teeth, reaching for his coffee like it might wash away the irritation—or whatever the hell else was creeping in.

"Shut up, Tommy."

Joel’s eyes stayed locked on the door, his fingers absently tightening around his coffee cup. He told himself he was just zoning out—but his damn gaze lingered like he was waiting.

Waiting for you to walk back in.

Waiting for another glance, another soft word, something he wouldn’t name.

Tommy watched him, unimpressed. "Stop pulling my leg," he said flatly, his stare pressing into Joel like a weight.

Joel grunted in response, ripping his gaze away from the door and taking a slow sip of coffee. He avoided Tommy’s glare but could feel it—heavy, expectant like Tommy was waiting, too.

"What the hell’s your problem with her, anyway?" Tommy finally asked voice edged with irritation. "Why do you even care if she’s my friend?"

Joel scowled, his grip tightening around the ceramic mug. "I don’t care."

His voice was too sharp, too quick. Even he could hear the lie in it.

Tommy snorted, shaking his head. "Bullshit."

Joel exhaled sharply, pushing Tommy’s plate away as the pancakes had personally offended him. "She’s your friend, not mine," he shot back, the words coming out harder than he had meant them to.

Tommy leaned forward, elbows on the table, eyes narrowed. "She is my friend. That’s why I care. You’re bein’ a goddamn asshole to her for no reason."

Joel scoffed, rolling his shoulders like he could shake off the conversation. "I don’t have to play nice with her just ‘cause you do, Tommy." His voice was low and tight, but something else was creeping in—something defensive.

Tommy let out a dry laugh, shaking his head. "Jesus, Joel."

Joel ignored him. "She’s annoying and stubborn, and I—" He stopped himself, jaw clenching before forcing the words out. "I don’t like her."

They felt wrong the second they left his mouth, as if he was trying to convince himself more than Tommy.

Tommy stared at him, unimpressed. His expression slowly morphed from frustration to something closer to realization.

"You are so full of shit."

Joel bristled. "I’m full of shit?"

Tommy huffed out a laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. "You do like her. You just don’t know what the hell to do with it."

Joel shot Tommy a warning glare, but his brother wasn’t backing down. If anything, he looked more pissed off by the second.

"She ain’t stubborn or annoying," Tommy said, voice edged with frustration. "She’s the most kind-hearted person I’ve ever met."

Joel exhaled sharply through his nose, his fingers curling into a fist beneath the table. Of course, Tommy would say that. Of course, he’d defend you like you were the damn saint of this town. It only made Joel’s irritation settle deeper, hot and restless in his chest.

He scoffed. "Sure she is," he muttered, rolling his eyes. The words were dry, dismissive—meant to push Tommy off his back.

But even as he said them, something about them didn’t sit right.

Tommy shook his head, muttering as he cut into what was left of his pancakes. Joel tried to ignore how his brother glared at him like he was some lost cause.

The diner felt too warm, too small.

Joel shifted in his seat, fingers drumming against the table, trying to shake the uncomfortable feeling gnawing at him. It didn’t make sense—none of it did.

Because, sure, you were annoying. Always so damn nice, always doting on Tommy like he was something special. And that smile of yours? That soft, warm, inviting smile? It pissed him off for reasons he couldn’t explain.

His scowl deepened. You were just some irritating… too-kind… beautiful—

Joel cut the thought off before it could go any further, clearing his throat like it might scrub the idea from his brain.

He didn’t like you.

He didn’t.

But then why did it feel like every conversation with you left him stuck in this goddamn cycle—him pushing, you barely reacting, just meeting him with that quiet, knowing patience that somehow made him more irritated?

Why, even now, long after you’d left, was he still thinking about you?