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beomcoups · 2 months

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Food Wars pt. 1

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You and Mingyu are rival but friendly chefs competing for a spot to be an executive chef at a new location in Madrid. This position would change your life; no matter how attractive he is, you WILL get that spot.

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: chef!Mingyu x chef!reader

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff, angst, suggestive (next part will be spicier, I promise), coworkers to lovers au, 18+

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: cursing, kissing, mention of death (nothing graphic), suggestive grabs of the hips and ass 💀

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 7.2k

𝐀𝐍: Part 1 is heeeeeeere! This is apart of the world tour collab hosted by @svthub. Part 2 will be posted soon. There are alot of people here who helped me cultivate this fic and assure me that what I wrote didn't suck lol. Thank you @wooahaeproductions, @seokgyuu, @hobeemin and @hannieween for looking at bits of this for me. Also thank you to @highvern , @cheolism , @okiedokrie @bitchlessdino @gyupremacy for shooting ideas with me (ahem, cologne!) and finally @milfgyuu , I know you want to be tagged in anything related to your man :)

You knew it would come to this, and as good as you are at hiding your poker face, you are annoyed. A food competition, really? You almost burst out with laughter when Rich, the restaurant's owner of The Palm Cuisine, told you. The Palm Cuisine is one of the most popular restaurants in the U.S., with three locations in New York, Los Angeles, and Miami. He is opening a new restaurant in Madrid, Spain, and wants to take one of the sous chefs to make them the executive chef. You are the better chef, and everyone knows it, but in the spirit of “fairness,” you have to go against another person for the owner to make their decision. That other person is no other than Kim Mingyu, the golden boy of the restaurant who is almost as good as you in the kitchen. Almost.

It’s not like the position was directly promised to you, but deep down, you always assumed it would be yours. You have been there the longest, know the menu from top to bottom, and have even stayed extra nights you didn’t have to for the benefit of the restaurant and the team. You eat, breathe and shit this place. It feels like a slap to the face. “Put the knives down, girlie,” your coworker and good friend Shena nudges you.

You sigh, gently setting down the knives you used to cut your potatoes. “I’m fine,” you whisper, turning around and rolling your eyes. “I am totally fucking fine.” You close your eyes and take a small, deep breath, centering yourself before returning to reality. Disappointment would be an understatement if you had to describe how you feel. The Palm Cuisine is the first and only restaurant you have worked at as a chef, starting as a prep cook and working your way up to sous. You always imagined yourself making it to executive chef—overseeing the restaurant's menu, preparation, cooking, ordering, and operations. The place specializes in Spanish food, and you can confidently say you could plan a Spanish menu with your eyes closed. Tapas, gazpacho, paellas, you name it, you’ve done it. And yet, you must constantly prove to everyone (mainly the men) that you deserve to be here. It’s exhausting. You can feel everyone’s eyes on you, wondering if you will snap and break a rolling pin or cry in the bathroom. Instead of giving them the satisfaction, you turn around with a beaming smile. “Well,” you quirk an eyebrow. “Let the food war begin!” “Oh, splendid!” Rich squeals. “I was worried you would be upset.” “Why would I be upset?” You cock your head. “I mean, it’s only fair, right?” He chuckles nervously, and you fight the urge to roll your eyes. “Why don’t you and Mingyu come into my office, and we can discuss it further?” You nod as he beckons Mingyu over and follows him into his mid-size office. It smells of fresh linen, courtesy of a scented oil on his bookshelf. It looks like a typical place of work, complete with a desk, laptop, and hundreds of documents related to the restaurant. It’s cold in contrast to the warmth of the fires in the kitchen, and you long to be back in front of the heat, cooking from your heart.

You’ve been cooking since you were ten, watching your grandmother in the kitchen slave away for all the major holidays. You remember how it felt when you made your first apple pie - how you went to the local market and bought the freshest green apples you could find and cut them up like she did, adding the right amounts of nutmeg, brown sugar, and other needed ingredients. You made your own crust and watched everyone marvel at your dessert. You guess you could say that your grandmother stirred your love for cooking. God, you miss her.

You hear Mingyu shuffle behind you, the scent of chocolate and cream greeting you before he does. You nod, moving to the seat furthest away from the door to give yourself space. You don’t hate Mingyu; you two are friendly with each other and help each other out when needed. He’s always treated you with respect and never condescended you when you made a suggestion. Your eyes undoubtedly work, and you would be a liar if you didn’t admit he is handsome. His model-like looks, toned body, great hair, and he just happens to be a good cook? It’s almost not fair. But fortunately for you, you haven’t fallen for his charms. He’s the golden retriever that everyone wants to be around. Well, except for you.

“So,” Rich starts as he shuts the door. I want you to know that I respect both of you, and it was tough to make this decision; hence, we are doing this. Plus, it’ll be fun, bring up the morale of the restaurant while we’re in Madrid—” “Wait,” you hold your hand up. “Are we going to do this in Madrid?” “Well, yes,” he says casually. “It’s only fitting we do it there. It’ll give you a chance to feel the vibe of the area and get some fresh ingredients. Lord knows you can’t get it here in the city.”

Mingyu chuckles, and you instinctively dig your thumb into your palm, your mind already thinking of the cost of a ticket, hotel space, etc. Rich can be a dramatic pain in the ass sometimes.

“We will cover everything, of course; all you need to do is be ready for international travel. You can bring one person from the restaurant as your assistant. Oh, and here is some paperwork you will need to fill out.” Several minutes later, with all the paperwork signed and details worked out, you shuffle out of the office one by one. Rich leaves first, rushing out like a bat out of hell, his wooden smell following him and the tension in your chest. You’re plagued with thoughts about coming up with a menu, packing to leave, and who’s going to watch your cat Grey while you’re gone. You feel undervalued, still bothered that you even have to do this. Does your many years of being here not mean anything to Rich? Is your cooking not good enough? Why keep hinting that you could have something bigger here just to string you along? All of this frustrates you with a passion.

You need a fucking drink.

Your nose wiggles at the smell of rich chocolate, your mouth salivates, and your stomach rumbles shortly after. You have a terrible habit of not eating when hungry as you focus on making food and serving others. While your mind is on food, you aren’t paying attention to Mingyu in front of you, bumping into his back. Your face grows hot with embarrassment, refusing to meet the gaze of your competitor for your dream job. “Hey.” His deep voice knocks you out of your mental fog.

“W-what’s up?” You stumble through your words. “I just want to say it’s an honor going toe-to-toe with you for this spot. There wouldn’t be any other person I would want to go against. You’re a great chef.”

For that tiny moment, you felt seen and appreciated. Aside from Shena, no one seemed to care about the hard work you put into The Palm Cuisine, and you thought about quitting so many times. But despite being unappreciated, you love the food, the culture, and the customers that come in. You can’t imagine yourself anywhere else.

“Thanks,” you clear your throat. “You’re good too.” Mingyu nods, a strand of hair falling over his forehead. Seeing him up close, you have to admit, he’s attractive. You get why everyone trips over their feet when he’s around. You have much more discipline than that despite the vibrations through your body. “Also, you need to eat,” he says matter-of-factly. “I heard your stomach before you bumped into me.”

Whatever spell you were temporarily under ceased immediately, knocking you back into reality.

“Ladies first,” he says, moving out of the way to let you through. His hand lightly touches your back as you walk by, making that part of you hot as if it were touched by something warm. You return to your stations, cleaning them off to be ready for the customers who are set to come in later. “What was that about?” Shena pops up beside you, eyeing you suspiciously. “Just some stuff about this unnecessary competition and getting an assistant to help me and whatnot,” you shrug.

“Wow, that’s kind of grand,” she looks perplexed as if you are telling a joke.

You nod, grab a granola nearby, and take a bite, curbing your hunger a bit.

“So…” you let your voice trail off in suspense. “How about you come with me to Spain?”

Your morning sucked. You barely slept, and when you finally did, you woke up to three missed alarms and was running an hour late. You had less than a week to plan to leave the country and spent most of your night packing for ten days and making sure your cat, Grey, would be comfortable while you were gone. He is a rescue; you adopted him from the animal shelter when you volunteered with Shena a year ago. He was your cuddle buddy; you haven’t been without him for more than a day. “I’m going to miss you, buddy,” you give him a good scratch. He purrs lazily, curling himself into a ball and going back to sleep. You are grateful that Shena’s girlfriend, Lumina, offered to come over and feed him while you were gone. You were considering dropping him off at one of those pet daycares for the week or hiring a cat sitter, but she came through in the nick of time. She works at the animal shelter you adopted her, and coincidentally, that’s where she and Shena met and fell in love.

It was nice seeing them fall for each other. It was like watching a silly, quirky rom-com play out in front of you. You see the magic in Shena’s eyes when she looks at Lumina, the warmth in her voice when she talks about her. Shena described Lumina as a warm hug on a rainy day, and you could believe that. They are made for each other.

You hear a notification on your phone telling you your Uber is outside. You send a quick text to Lumina, giving her the code to your door, and give one last look around before you go across the ocean. “Bye, Grey,” you whisper, ensuring the door is locked before leaving.

Silvery-white clouds rolled into the early morning sky as you walked to your Uber, the ground wet from the fresh rain a few hours before. The smell of rain has always soothed you; the clean, earthy petrichor wakes you up a bit more. You quickly greet the driver, putting on your AirPods and playing a playlist you made. You watch the remaining droplets of rain left on the window roll away as your driver cruises down the highway. Where you come from, it hardly rains as it's primarily hot year round. On the rare occasions when it did, you would open your bedroom window, sit in your bed, and watch the water hit the Oleander flowers in your backyard. It was one of your two favorite smells in the world, the other being apple pie.

Mixed in with your annoyance about having to have a competition to prove yourself as a chef, you are looking forward to leaving the country. You have never been to Spain before, let alone Europe. You have traveled and seen a few things, but Mexico is the farthest you have gone. You spent much time last night looking up main attractions, museums, and local areas to see if you have the time. You want to visit the local markets and taste the local food. Rich set up all of your travel and living arrangements, and all you have to do is show up and cook. You are going to make the most of your time there. Who knows when you will be able to travel again? At the very least, you plan on coming out of this thing, winning it all.

“We’re here.”

When you look up, the airport entrance pulls up to your right. The ride feels shorter than it is, but you are lost in thought about many things. You thank your driver, grab your suitcases, and walk to the airline’s front desk to turn your bags in. You arrived with thirty minutes left to spare, and there was a long line already; it wasn’t even 8 am. You can’t help but yawn as you hand over your bags to the agents, fatigue and the lack of sleep kicking your ass.

“You’re all set,” the agent hands over your printed ticket. “Have a safe trip.” You nod, heading towards security and breezing through the checkpoints before arriving in front of the underground train. Your purse feels heavy on your shoulder, and your eyelids threaten to close as you stand. You usually have good sleep management, but you stressed over this trip all night. What if you come all the way out to Spain for nothing? You don’t think you could continue to work for Rich anymore. It would hurt too much.

The train comes shortly after, and you shuffle inside, trying to find a seat in the back before it is taken. You see one and settle down, your shoulders dropping as you finally sit down. You lean your head on the cold pole, hopeful that closing your eyes for a minute will give you some of your energy back.

“Are you as tired as I am?” You recognize that voice, annoyance slowly creeping in as your longing for a bit of solitude is interrupted.

“Mingyu, what a surprise,” you mutter without cracking an eye open.

“How did you know it was me?”

“Your voice. It’s one of a kind,” you deadpan.

He chuckles as the train flicks forward, sitting next to you. You begrudgingly pull out your ticket, realizing you will not get to relax until you’re sitting on that plane. Noting the concourse you need to get off on, you look ahead, counting the stops you have until you have to get off. Mingyu hums softly, adjusting his backpack and pulling out his headphones.

“Have you ever flown first class before?”

Your head snaps his way, not registering what he’s saying. “What?” “First class? Have you ever been?” “I-uh, no,” you stumble through your words. “Why does it matter?”

“Uh, did you even look at where you’re sitting?”

“Well, yes?” you say incredulously, looking at your ticket again. “Of course, I know where I’m sitting—”

You don’t finish that sentence; instead, your mouth forms a small “o,” unaware that you would be sitting in first class. You have never flown in those seats before, the closest being business class a couple of rows behind the curtain. Those tickets were not cheap, and you only purchased them because you wanted to treat yourself to graduating culinary school, which you were able to do by saving all of your tips from your waitressing job.

You don’t like admitting that you were wrong, and you aren’t going to admit it now. Instead, you rake your fingers in your hair, nodding and shoving your ticket in your back pocket.

“You’re welcome,” Mingyu taunts you, nudging your shoulder. “Yeah, yeah,” you shake your head.

You can barely suppress your smile, saved by the announcement that your concourse is approaching. You both rise out of your seats, moving towards the doors before the train jerks suddenly, making you fall forward into Mingyu. He grabs your hips, holding you steady until you’ve caught your balance. Your breasts are pressed against his chest, and your body is hypersensitive to his inadvertent touch. His grip is firm and protective, bringing an unexpected tingle to your core. You couldn’t feel more thankful that you were looking down; you couldn’t look him in the eye out of embarrassment. You don’t even have a crush on this guy, yet you feel hot and bothered.

“Be careful, princess,” he crouches low enough for your ears only. “We don’t need you flailing around this train.”

“Don’t do that,” you scoff. “Don’t call me princess.”

“Why?”

The train doors open, and you calmly remove his hands from you, gazing deep into his eyes.

“Because I’m far from that.”

You walk away before he has a chance to respond, looking for the gate you need to be at. Bitchiness aside, you stand on what you said. You aren’t some helpless person waiting in a tower for someone to come save you or give you a handout. You’ve worked hard for everyone to see you more than a woman, as it already has a stigma. The constant belittling of your intelligence, being told to “wait your turn,” you are done with it. You’ve taken control of your destiny your life, and you will not be treated like some delicate little girl waiting to be saved from a castle… no matter how hot the knight is.

You feel relieved when you find your gate and a familiar face sitting with her iPad in her hand. As if she felt you coming, Shena looks up and waves you over to where she is sitting. Dressed in mint green sweats and matching crocs, she stands out in front of the dull black seats.

“There you are,” she greets you with a hug. “It’s not like you to be late. I sent you a text wondering where you were.”

“You did?”

You pull out your phone, and sure enough, you have received one unread message from her. She must have sent it when you were on the train, distracted by Mingyu and his hands on your body. It’s not like you to get riled up, and it ticks you off that it happened with him, of all people. Your life is a joke.

You plop down next to her, cocking your head back in exhaustion. Before fully relaxing, you feel the seat beside you shift, followed by the smell of light cologne and chocolate. Looking over, you see Mingyu adjusting his bag before setting it on the ground. He is holding a small chocolate bar and taking a small bite, savoring the decadent treat as he licks his lips. You look away before being caught, chagrined that you were staring at him for that long. What is with you?

“Oh hey there, Gyu,” Shena waves at him. “I didn’t see you there.”

“Oh, I just got here,” he smiles. “I had to find my way to the gate since this one here is a speed walker.”

“Oh? You guys arrived together?”

“Not together, together,” you emphasize. “We just happened to be on the same train, that’s all.”

You purposely avoid Shena’s eye contact, clearing your throat and changing the subject.

“Did you notice we are flying first class?”

“Yeah!” Shena beams, pulling out her ticket. “I’ve never been out of the country, let alone first class. Lumina was bummed she couldn’t tag along. The shelter has her tied up, and it is kinda last minute.”

“Aww,” you rub her knee. “There will always be a next time, right?”

Shena nods, and the flight attendants announce they are about to start boarding, starting with first class. You pop out of your seat first, grab your things, and stand in line. Anticipation drills in your heart, wanting nothing more than to sit in some very comfortable seats and sleep throughout this 8-plus hour flight. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Mingyu behind you, his eyes boring a hole in the back of your head. He leans in closer, the hairs standing on the back of your neck as his lips barely touch your ear.

“I know you’re not a princess,” he whispers. “You’ve proven to be more than that. But that doesn’t mean you don’t need someone to care for you sometimes.”

You were next in line and couldn’t respond without the flight attendants giving you weird looks. Instead, as they check your ticket, you do what you know best: bite your tongue, smile, and push it aside.

Madrid is exquisite; it is everything you saw on your Pinterest board and more. You’ve been here a few days and are in love. You are surrounded by gorgeous cerulean waters, good weather, and historic sites you always wanted to see as a child. The Almudena Cathedral, one of the most prominent catholic churches in the world, took your breath away when you went to visit. The Francisco de Cubas architecture throughout made you appreciate art more, one of the most beauteous works you have ever seen in person.

You also took time to visit the local market, talking with the locals about their lives and picking up fresh food to try out different dishes for the competition. Shena was a big help, taking over in Spanish if you needed help and also giving fresh ideas on what to cook. You knew a bit of Spanish to get around the city and ask questions, but coming from a Spanish-speaking household, Shena could convey your ideas in ways you couldn’t understand. You will be forever grateful for that.

“It looks like we’re here.” Rich called you both to the restaurant this evening to show you around and tell you where your cooking stations would be. The restaurant stood atop a hill, with small walk-up steps made of stone mosaics. Surrounded by boutique shops and a couple of markets, this was the only restaurant on the block; you couldn’t miss it. You understood quickly why Rich took this location. He meets you at the entrance, greeting each other in dos besos.

“Welcome, let me show you around. Mingyu is already here.” You walk into the small waiting area before entering a gorgeous main dining area with walls made of Spanish moss brick. The bar is neatly placed in the middle, already loaded with the finest wines and other liquors. The dining tables and chairs are made of mahogany, giving you a vibe that you are back home in the country.

“Ah, there he is,” Rich looks to your right.

Mingyu walks up, wearing a white beater accentuating his well-toned arms and acid-blue jeans that hit him perfectly. You couldn’t stop ogling him if you wanted to; you would’ve thought he was a model off the street if you didn't know him. His eyes scan Rich and Shena before landing on you, a slight smirk on his lips that only you seem to notice. Ever since your encounter at the airport, he’s been on your mind, and you hate it. You still feel his hands on your hips on the train, as if he imprinted on you.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I had to find the bathroom.” “No worries,” Rich waves him off. “Let me show you around.”

He takes you to where your cooking stations would be, explaining how everything was set up and where to find your ingredients so you could prepare them. The competition is in three days, giving you enough time to finish your menu and prep before the big day. The kitchen is magnificent, a sight straight out of your daydreams: stainless steel appliances, expensive cast irons, and utensils you’ve always wanted that were way out of your budget. You may hate the idea of this competition, but working at this location would be a dream come true.

“Imagine if we got to work here,” Shena whispers. “I’ve only seen kitchens like these on Master Chef.” You nod in agreement, your fingers barely grasping the counter's surface. Rich finishes showing you around and asks everyone what their plans are leading up to the big day. “Nothing, just prepping and looking around the city a bit more,” you shrug. “Well, that sounds boring! ” He exclaims. “Madrid has such a fun nightlife. It would be a shame for you to miss out. As a matter of fact, why don’t you kids go to Kapital tomorrow? I can get you a table, and you can let loose.”

“Well, shit, okay!” Shena pipes up before you can respond.

You groan internally, not in the mood to be body-to-body against strangers, sweating your hair out during loud music. You don’t see yourself having fun until this whole thing is over. How does this guy expect you to relax? It’s not like his dreams are on the line. You look over at Mingyu, who matches your gaze, leaning against one of the refrigerators.

“Yeah,” his eyes finally tear away from you. “I’m down.”

You’re the only one left who hasn’t given an answer, and everyone is looking at you expecting one.

“Okay, let’s do it,” you mask your disdain with a smile.

“Great!” He claps his hands in excitement. “I will send you the details later and get you set up. Have fun.”

Rich walks you out, and you ask for the bathroom. You need a moment to pee and think in peace. He points you toward one, and you walk into the grand bathroom decorated with an old European interior that was undoubtedly above your salary. You walk to the furthest stall away from the door, rubbing your temples as you do what you need to do. For the most part, you handle stress well. You compartmentalize your feelings about what needs to be done, and you’ve been fine. Even now, with this competition vastly approaching and Mingyu somehow encompassing your thoughts when you’re around him, you’re fine. You haven’t cracked.

You aren’t sure why this is affecting you so much. You still think about when he touched you on the train and how your body felt alive. You haven’t been with anyone in a long time. Is your body so desperate for intimacy that you melt at the first person who gives you attention? No, that can’t be it. You’ve been fine all this time. Why is Mingyu getting under your skin? Shaking those thoughts away, you wash your hands and look at yourself in the mirror, taking a deep breath. Swinging the door wide open, you are met by the man who has been plaguing your thoughts since you’ve been here. He was waiting for you, his back leaned against the wall, fiddling with a toothpick in his mouth.

“Rich and Shena are waiting for you… you can get kind of lost here,” Mingyu says.

“Mmhmm,” you nod slowly. “Well, let’s go.” The walk back to the front feels longer than it is. He hums a soft tune as he strides beside you, like he’s your equal, your partner. You wouldn’t admit this out loud, but you feel comfortable.

“So, what have you been doing since you’ve landed?” Mingyu asks.

“I did some sightseeing,” you respond. “I visited the Almudena Cathedral and the local markets with Shena and got some ingredients for the competition. Oh, and worked on the menu.” “That’s it?” Mingyu looks surprised. “There is so much more of Madrid you have to see.” “Well, it’s not like I have a lot of time to go out there and explore,” you defend yourself. “Plus, I can’t really relax with this thing coming up.” You point at the kitchen. “How do you do it?” “How about I show you?”

You stop dead in your tracks a few feet away from the door.

“What do you mean show me?” You eye him suspiciously. “I’m going to pick you and Shena up tomorrow, and we will explore together. There’s so much the world has to offer besides cooking and work.”

“How are you gonna do that?”

“You’ll see.”

You both walk outside, and Shena sits at one of the tables, talking candidly on the phone. Rich is nowhere to be found. The moon peeks over the horizon, the white orb’s light shining over the waters. Normally, you wouldn't agree to such a thing, but he has a point. Maybe you should live a little. “You are something. You know that?

Mingyu shrugs, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I just believe in living life to the fullest. We don’t know how long we may have.”

You eye him more, studying his face in hopes that you can find a false truth and be more at ease. When you don’t, it does the opposite of relaxing you; it makes you nervous. You might be starting to like this guy.

Fine,” you sigh. “I’ll send you the address.”

“He’s here!” You check yourself out in the mirror, smoothing the middle of your blue floral white dress. You opted to wear your hair in a low bun, matching earrings, and a necklace you’ve had for years. Sliding on your white sandals, you grab your purse and leave your room. “Phew!” Shena whistles at you. “Qué guapa estás!”

You roll your eyes playfully as she pops out of her seat, sporting a white top and blue jeans, accessorized with a light cardigan and a simple gold necklace. You usually wouldn’t dress up this nice for an outing with friends (and Mingyu), but you wanted to be prepared for anything, and it would kill you if you were underdressed. Plus, you were going to be in Europe! Why wouldn’t you want to be prepared?

You walk out of your Airbnb and meet Mingyu as he comes in. He is dressed casually in a white collared shirt and black shorts, the slight breeze lifting his shirt and exposing his abs. It took a lot of brainpower to look away, instead diverting your attention to the inside of your purse. He looks tanned and relaxed, as if he is one with Madrid. If only you could relax like that.

“Hey, Gyu,” Shena waves. “Thank you for leading the way on this grand adventure.”

“No problem,” Mingyu smiled. “I want this to be a fun day, and I figured we have a driver, so why not?”

He looks at you, and your heart patters. The sun and slight breeze do not help your plight as you fight internally against acknowledging how sexy he looks. You hate your body for the way it’s betraying you right now, feeling inadvertently turned on.

“You look pretty,” he marveled at you.

“Thanks,” you nod sheepishly, walking to the black car behind him. “Let’s get going, shall we?”

There is a tiny bit of you that wants you to look good for him, to be seen that you put in the effort. When you get in the car, you greet the driver, sitting in the back row, hoping he will get the hint that you want to be left to yourself and your thoughts. But that didn’t work that way, as he climbs in and sits right next to you, with Shena seated in the row in front. His cologne is light, different from the usual sweet, chocolatey smell you’re accustomed to when he’s around. It’s enchanting, exciting, and further puts you in a mood. “So where are we going?” Shena probed, snapping on her seatbelt. “The Royal Palace,” Mingyu announced. “They have a tour, and I figured we could get lunch afterward.”

The driver pulls off, and you gaze outside the window, admiring the beautiful architecture of Madrid. Visiting the Royal Palace was on your bucket list, but you didn’t think you would have time. You’ve seen the pictures on Pinterest and talked to some locals at the restaurant who have been, but you’ve always been told that tickets are hard to get. You never thought it would be attainable for you.

“What are you thinking about?” Mingyu’s deep voice infiltrates your thoughts.

“Nothing, really,” you say, smoothing out your dress. “I am just enjoying the foreign atmosphere.”

“Foreign atmosphere?” Mingyu chuckles. “That’s an interesting way of saying you enjoy the view.”

“Well, are we not in a foreign place?” You retort.

“Well, yes.”

“Alright then.” You look back out the window, biting your lip to hold back a grin. You are thankful for the soft tunes from the car radio, letting the reggaeton beats drown out your very loud thoughts. Mingyu gets you riled up in a way that no one can. He doesn’t frustrate you in ways like the other men do at the restaurant. Deep down, it’s not in an ill manner; he is just like the golden retriever: nudging your leg with a bone in his mouth, begging you to play with him.

“I brought you something,” he nudges your shoulder. “I know you didn’t eat.” You look down and see that he is holding a granola bar coated with vanilla and almonds, poking out of a sandwich bag. The sweet smell is heaven to your nose, and your mouth slightly salivates. He tapes Shena on the shoulder, handing her one of her own.

“You made this?” Shena probes, carefully taking it from him. “This is really sweet.”

You take a small bite of it, and your taste buds do a happy dance. The vanilla was freshly made, and you taste the granola, almond, and sweet spices used to make this perfect bar. You aren’t big on breakfast, as you’re used to getting up and moving on the go, but occasionally, you will grab a granola bar and eat it on your breaks at work, this one explicitly being your favorite. Maybe Mingyu knows you better than you thought.

“You’re right,” you confessed. “I hadn’t eaten anything. Thank you.” The car pulls to a stop, arriving at the grandiose building known as The Royal Palace. You wait until everyone leaves the vehicle, barely climbing out without tripping over your feet. Standing outside of the gates, you are in awe. You aren’t sure if it’s dopamine, but the air suddenly feels different and almost cleaner. You scrambled into your purse, pulling out your portable camera to photograph the palace. This place may not be one of the world's seven wonders, but in your heart, it is. “Oooo, let’s take pictures while we are here,” Shena squeals.

She pulls you and Mingyu close to her, takes over the camera, and snaps a few photos together and separately. Usually, you would be annoyed if it was someone else, but she is your best friend. You can let her get away with a few things. Mingyu goes to the booth to confirm they have arrived, returning with three tickets to take inside. “We can go in through a separate entrance since I got the tickets ahead of time,” he announces. You flip through the pictures through the camera, excited to take more. You feel his eyes bore into you, and you suddenly feel hot.

“What are you looking at?” You say, putting your camera away.

“Your smile,” he confesses with a cheeky grin. “I want to see it more often.”

You gaze at each other for a moment, your mouth parted with much to say and nothing at the same time. Mingyu keeps leaving you speechless, and you aren’t mad about it anymore.

“Are you two gonna keep staring at each other lovingly, or are we gonna do this thing?” Shena’s words snap you out of your reverie, and Mingyu chuckles, shoving his hands in his pockets. You walk over to her, linking your arm with yours.

“There is nothing loving going on.”

“Sure, whatever you say,” she rolls her eyes. “Let’s go look at some royalty.”

When you planned for this trip, you set a time to visit the Almudena Cathedral, visit the local markets, and plan your menu. You weren’t going to hold Shena to that standard even though she is your assistant. You thought you would be fine if you focused on nothing but food and didn’t get distracted. Mingyu, however, might be proving you wrong.

You sit at his Airbnb, watching him make lunch for you and Shena. He insisted on making something instead of eating out somewhere, and who are you to turn down a free meal? The Royal Palace was everything you imagined, learning about the history of Spain beyond what was in your textbooks in high school. You consider yourself a history buff, wanting to learn more about the world across the different seas. You’ve had that desire when you were a little girl, sitting on your grandmother’s lap and listening to her stories from when she traveled as a young adult. She never got to visit Spain, but she talked about it a lot, being that they were world conquerors (or, as you like to say, colonizers) back in the day. You really miss her.

Mingyu sets your plate in front of you, a fried calamari sandwich with a side of garlicky mayo and fries he made himself. He tops it off with a small squeeze of lemon juice, just as you like it. When you make this at the restaurant, you always add lemon juice on top to give it more depth, but instead of the mayo, you have paprika-spiced tomato sauce on the side. Either way, this shows that Mingyu has been paying attention when you felt incognito.

“Dig in,” he announces, sitting next to you at the island bar.

It’s a comfortable silence between you three, munching away at your well-seasoned meal. If you had to be honest with yourself, it’s the best sandwich you have ever had. He fried the calamari in olive oil, turning it every minute or so because it doesn’t take that long to cook. He apparently had the calamari sitting in milk in the refrigerator since this morning, allowing it to tenderize before mixing it with his own seasoning flour. You and Shena offered to help, but he turned you down, stating you were his guests and he wanted to treat you to something good before you went out later that night.

“This was really good,” Shena praises him as she wipes her mouth with a napkin. “You have to come over again and make these for Lumina and me.”

“Anything for you two,” he teases. “As long as you keep making those margaritas.” They howl in laughter, and you feel a bit awkward as if they have an inside joke that you aren’t a part of. You smile politely, finishing off the last bit of your food before getting off your stool and grabbing your plate to wash.

“Aht aht,” Shena blurts, scrambling out of her seat. “I will be handling the cleanup. You two sit out there and act like you like each other.”

Your eyes throw darts at her for that last sentence, and she blows you a kiss as you walk to the balcony for some fresh air. The warm sun is welcome on your skin, the warmth taking away the chill you have in your bones from inside. You stare out into the sea, watching the boats go back and forth from the ports, the busy life from the markets a site to behold. You feel completely at peace for the first time since you’ve been here.

“Do you mind if I join you?” Mingyu pokes his head out from the balcony door, holding a pink lemonade decorated with an umbrella.

“Sure, if you are bringing that,” you quip, pointing at the drink.

“Of course, princess,” he jests back.

As you take the drink, you raise an eyebrow, debating whether you should be annoyed at that nickname or amused that he’s teasing you. He stands comfortably next to you, admiring the cerulean blue waters in front of you.

“This place is beautiful, isn’t it?” He sighs heavily. “I don’t want to leave.”

You look at him, his happy-go-lucky nature replaced by a look of sadness and longing. It’s unnerving, as you have always seen him with a warm orange aura around him. His hands grip the gate as he takes a softer, deeper breath, turning to face you.

“Can I ask you something?”

You nod slowly, your anxiety ticking up about what he wants to ask.

“What got you into cooking?”

You look away, staring back into the calm sea. No one has bothered to ask you anything personally about yourself besides Shena and Lumina, and you are unsure how to respond. It would mean opening a part of you to someone new, and you haven’t done that in a long time. It means that you would have to relieve your past and start trusting him, and you are scared of that.

Stepping across the magical line of faith and hope, you take a sip of your lemonade. “My grandma used to cook a lot growing up, and I would sit in the kitchen and watch her. Whatever you wanted, she could make it. My parents weren’t around, and she was the one who raised me. I eventually started cooking with her, which spurned my love for cooking, but mainly because I was doing it with her.” You pause, your breath shaky as you relive one of the hardest moments of your life. “On Christmas, I found her unconscious beside her chair. Apparently, she had a stroke and didn’t have oxygen for fifteen minutes before I saw her. I did everything I could to save her by hooking her with her oxygen machine before the paramedics arrived, but it was too late. She was declared brain dead.”

Hot tears fall down your cheeks, and you wipe them away quickly, embarrassed that you let yourself reach this point in front of Mingyu. He pulls you into his arms, allowing you to cry a little in his arms. Unbeknownst to you, Shena walks out and notices your tears, but Mingyu shushes her quietly, allowing you to grieve just a little bit longer. You regain your composure, giving yourself some space and adjusting his shirt. “I ruined your shirt,” you pout. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I did that.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he smiled softly. “You need something to lean on, and I’m glad I got to be that for you.”

Gazing into his eyes, you see the familiar warm orange swirling in his little orbs. Inadvertently, you move closer to him, your heart and body overruling your mind for once. Mingyu responds kindly, pulling you closer to him with his hands dangerously on your hips.

“Is it okay if I—”

“Mingyu, do it before I change my mind.”

His lips press against yours, and your legs almost buckle. It is soft and tentative, as if he is playing it safe in case you want out. But you don’t; instead, you kiss him deeper. It is as if something takes over you, and you can’t stop. Call it desire, passion, or any other synonym, but it’s what you feel. You want him, and so does he. His hands travel lower, giving your butt a soft squeeze, and you accidentally moan in his mouth. You think he likes it, though, because his bulge is hardening against your center.

“If we don’t stop, there is no coming back from this,” he breathes.

Your mind regains consciousness at those words; you know he is right. With one last kiss, you begrudgingly pull away, walking back inside and squarely bumping into Shena.

“Whoa, where’s the fire?” She joked while taking a good look at you.

“Nothing, let’s just go,” you insist. “We still have to get ready for tonight and all.”

Shena looks at you and the balcony suspiciously but doesn’t say anything; honestly, you appreciate that. You don’t know how you can answer any questions she may throw at you. All you know right now is Mingyu drives you fucking crazy.

Part 2 will be coming soon. Likes, reblogs, and feedback are much appreciated :)

tag: @nonuify

#kvanity #kwritersworldnet #svthub #svt fanfic #svt oneshot #svt scenarios #svt imagines #svt fluff #svt angst #svt suggestive #mingyu fanfic #mingyu fluff #mingyu angst

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roosterforme · 2 months

Text

Aim for the Sky Part 12 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You and Bradley embark on the babymoon of your dreams where a warm beach and hot sauce await. When you not only indulge his current fantasy but allow him to take it to the next level, he's more excited than ever for the future.

Warnings: Fluff, smut, lactation kink, cockwarming, slight exhibitionism

Length: 4800 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

"I wish you could fly us there in your Super Hornet. We would save so much time."

Bradley kissed the top of your head as you wrapped your hands around his bicep and snuggled against him. "Sweetheart, I got us first class tickets for a reason," he murmured. "I'm getting sick of sitting in an uncomfortable cockpit seat every day."

"I thought you bought first class seats because you love me and Rosie and wanted us to be comfortable."

You were looking up at him with your chin propped on his arm and a smirk on your face. "Well, yeah. That, too," he promised, and you laughed. "But I'm getting old, and the seats are uncomfortable."

"You're not old, Roo," you told him with an eye roll. "You're just right."

Bradley relaxed back in his aisle seat as you stretched up to kiss the gray hairs that were starting to show along his temple. He was tired, but he knew you were as well. It had been a long week at work for both of you, and now the commercial airplane was starting to pull away from the gate. In approximately five hours, it would touch down in Loreto, Mexico for five days in the sun.

A bit of a January cold snap had taken over San Diego, and everyone at work seemed a little jealous about the babymoon location. But truthfully, Bradley had really only chosen it with you in mind. The luxury resort was right on a beautiful beach, and there was a chef who taught cooking classes every day. Bradley could already picture you happily sunbathing before attending the hot sauce demonstration. He was just along for the ride, happy to go anywhere that you and Rosie wanted to.

You kissed his ear and whispered, "As soon as we get to the hotel, I need you."

Bradley groaned in response and then laughed. "I literally just fucked you three hours ago."

"That was three hours ago."

"How do you make it through a day at work right now? Please explain that to me."

"Very carefully," you told him.

Your hormones were all over the place, and Bradley had taken to checking your blood pressure before and after any sort of sexual activities. He knew he was probably going overboard, but you had mild preeclampsia, and he was feeling more protective of you than ever before in spite of your protests that you and the baby were fine.

"I'll make a deal with you," he murmured as the plane took off. "How about you order a meal from the flight attendant while I take a nap, and then when we're alone, we can do whatever you want."

Your eyes lit up, and Bradley was already half asleep a few minutes later when he heard you ordering a wrap and a fruit bowl.

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

The resemblance of the hotel in Loreto to the Four Seasons in Waikiki was uncanny, and you were trying to keep your cool while Bradley chatted with the woman at the concierge desk. You were having honeymoon flashbacks, and it was making you dangerously horny as you laced your fingers with his and gave him a little tug.

"Roo," you whispered, pressing your nose to his bicep and inhaling deeply. You knew that he knew what you needed, but he just kept on laughing at everything the other woman said. Now he was asking her questions. Another few minutes of this, and you were going to lose it.

You were about to tell him that social hour was over, but she started laughing at something. As soon as he mentioned that you were pregnant, she looked at you instead of Bradley and started making a fuss over your belly. Next thing you knew, you got a free room upgrade.

"Why do you think I talk to everyone like I do?" Bradley asked, pulling you into his arms when you were finally alone with him in your hotel room which overlooked the beach and had a private plunge pool. "You never know when they might decide to give you an upgraded room."

Now he was the one following you around, trying to undress you, while you checked out the stunning accommodations in awe. "Good job, Daddy," you muttered. "You got us a private pool. And we can sit out on the patio and watch the sun rise tomorrow. Oh! And we can order room service for breakfast!"

You were about to step outside and see how warm the pool was when Bradley grabbed you from behind by your hips. "Get back in here. You can't just whine for my cock for an entire flight and then act like a brat in the lobby and expect me not to be hard as a rock by the time we get to the room."

It was impossible to contain your smile as his hands found their way up inside your shirt. And that's when you felt just how hard he was. "I wanted to check out the pool," you whined, knowing you'd get an even bigger reaction out of him.

"And you will," he promised, turning you around and pulling your shirt over your head. "Just as soon as I fuck you and check your blood pressure."

"Bradley, did you seriously bring the blood pressure cuff with us?" you asked as he unhooked your bra.

"Yeah," he grunted. "Of course I did. I promised Dr. Morris we'd keep a close eye on it." Then he swiped his thumb along your nipple, and your entire body reacted to him as he stared longingly at your chest and said, "Good god, your tits are exquisite."

"My bras don't really fit anymore," you whispered as he dropped yours to the floor.

He moaned your name. "I did happen to notice that." Your breasts were in his big hands, and he gave you a hard squeeze, making your head tipped back. Your nipples felt a little sore, but his calloused fingers gave you an undeniably delightful sensation when he touched you. "Jesus, Baby Girl. They are fucking huge. And so warm." Your husband had been fixating on your chest throughout your entire pregnancy, but right now, his pupils were wide, and his voice was impossibly raspy as he gently pinched you.

"Roo," you gasped, unable to process the pleasure with a bit of pain except to grab him closer. "Do it again."

"Fuck." He guided you so you were sitting on the edge of the bed, and you watched him unbutton his shirt. He tossed it aside and pulled his undershirt off as well, and you placed a kiss to his abs before unzipping his jeans. Once he was undressed, you tried to suck his cock, but all you were able to do was get one good lick in before he took a step away from you.

"Please?" you whined, but he was shaking his head.

"I'll come in two minutes if you start doing that," he rasped. "And I want to spend some quality time with your tits first."

"Oh," you said with a smile, smashing your breasts gently together. "Like this? A titty fuck?"

You watched him touch himself as his eyes were glued to what you were doing with your hands, but he shook his head again. "No," he whispered, licking his lips. "I want my mouth on you."

As you leaned back on the bed and started to pull your leggings and underwear down, you watched his cheeks grow a deeper shade of pink as your breasts bounced. "Roo," you whispered. "You can put your mouth anywhere you want." But his gaze never wavered as he palmed his cock and climbed into bed with you. Neither suitcase was unpacked. You hadn't even finished exploring the room. But your husband was pulling your nipple between his lips, and you knew you were in this for the long haul.

He released you with a pop as you dragged your fingers through his hair, and he murmured, "You're fucking perfect." Then he kissed your round belly and said, "And so are you." Then he tossed all of the throw pillows to the floor and sat with his back against the headboard and patted his thigh. "Come here?"

You crawled up the bed to get to him, and he groaned as he watched you, his cock jumping with excitement. He wanted full access to your boobs; you knew that much. But you desperately needed to feel him. When you straddled his waist, his hands were on your chest, but when you eased yourself down around his length, his eyes went wide. "Let me just keep you warm while you take your time," you told him with a smile.

The sensation of feeling so completely full was incredible, and Bradley kissed along your tender breasts as he let his hands rest on your bump. "God damn it," he panted. "Your nipples are fucking delicious." He lapped at the underside of one breast before trailing his nose along one furled peak and then the other. When you moaned and clenched around him, his hands crept back to your hips, pulling you down harder until you gasped. But his mouth stayed on your chest.

He was obsessed. It was like he couldn't help himself. And he seemed to be getting worse, which you actually kind of loved, if you were being honest. Your weird, pregnant body seemed to just make him hornier, but especially your breasts. As he nipped hungrily at your chest, you decided to test a theory that had formed in your mind. "If you love them this much now, what are you going to do when I'm actually lactating?"

Bradley met your gaze, cheeks flushed and eyes wide. "Fuck," he whimpered. His Adam's apple bobbled as he swallowed hard, and he thrust slowly up into you.

You kissed his forehead and whispered, "You've been going wild for months, Roo."

Your husband looked embarrassed as he nodded and pressed his nose to the valley between your breasts. His mustache prickled your skin as he said, "I don't know why. I just can't get enough. They feel... warmer. And you smell insanely good. And I just can't stop thinking about how you look and taste right now."

You took his face in your hands as you wiggled your hips, and you were rewarded with the needy sound of his grunting. "You're blushing so much, Bradley. But you don't need to be embarrassed. I don't think I'll ever get over how much you like my body this way."

"It's perfect. You're always perfect. I love you."

You nodded and kissed his forehead again as he ran his fingers along both of your nipples. "I love you, too. But I want an answer, so I'm going to ask you one more time... If you love them this much now, what are you going to do when I'm actually lactating? Leaking breast milk and feeding the baby?"

Your husband's brown eyes looked like melted chocolate as he took a few deep breaths. His brow was furrowed, and his voice was deep and needy as he asked, "What will you let me do?"

Your eyes went wide as you gasped, and you ran your thumb across the scars on his pink cheek while he squeezed at your tits, his expression timid and skittish. You weren't used to seeing him like this, and you knew you were completely in control here. You were turned on beyond reason as you took a deep breath and asked, "Would you like it if I let you taste me when I'm lactating?"

He didn't hesitate, voice low as he said, "Fuck. Yes."

You tipped your head back for a beat while he kissed your nipples. "And would you like to rub your cock all over them while they leak, Roo? Titty fuck me until I'm an absolute mess?"

He growled your name, and then in an instant, you were on your back in the middle of the massive bed. He was fucking you hard, your breasts bouncing as he watched them before burying his face against your neck. His hips were relentless, pounding into you as he muttered, "I want to taste what you'll feed to the baby."

"Oh, god!" you moaned, voice quivering from how hard he was fucking you.

"I want to lick you everywhere, but especially all over your gorgeous tits, Sweetheart. I keep thinking about how you'll taste when you have milk, and it's driving me crazy."

"Bradley," you whined, tugging on his hair as his mouth found your breasts. "I'll let you do anything you want."

He withdrew his cock and knelt above you, one hand gently caressing your belly as he jerked off onto your breasts and your necklace charms. His cheeks were still pink, but he was looking at you with needy certainty now. There was nothing to worry about. You knew what he wanted, and he seemed pleased that he didn't have to put the words together himself.

He leaned down and kissed your lips, running one finger through his cum and then feeding it to you. "If you'll let me, then I'll do it all."

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

Bradley thought perhaps he should be embarrassed. He knew his thoughts were a little depraved as of late. Your breasts were his achilles heel at the moment, and he already knew he wouldn't be able to contain himself once you actually started leaking breast milk. He liked to imagine it. Liked to think about sucking on your swollen tits. He even enjoyed the mental image of running the tip of his cock along your leaking nipples before asking you to give him head.

But you just indulged him in his fantasies. You got him to admit what he wanted, and you told him he could have it all. Then you licked up some of his cum as he fed it to you before pulling him into the shower and holding a completely normal conversation with him while you lovingly washed his hair. Alright. So you were definitely more than okay with how badly he wanted to lick up after your breasts as soon as they started leaking.

"I'm so in love with you," he interjected as both of you toweled off. You just smiled and kissed him before flouncing back into the bedroom with your hand on your belly. Then he took your blood pressure, making sure it was completely normal, while you looked at the room service dinner menu.

"Bradley!" you almost screamed, and he dropped the blood pressure cuff on his foot. "They serve twenty different kinds of hot sauce!"

"Why do you think I brought you to this specific resort?" he asked, picking up the cuff and putting it away safely while you read off all of the different kinds of hot peppers in the sauce varieties. "I signed you up for a private hot sauce making lesson with one of the chefs tomorrow."

"You did?" you gushed, looking up at him like he just told you he bought you a hot pepper farm of your own. "That's the sweetest thing I've ever heard."

"I thought you and Rosie would have a good time trying some specialty samples and making one of your own," he said with a shrug before running his hand along your belly.

"Well, you're officially the best husband ever." You handed him the menu and said, "Rosie and I are starving. I want the tacos, the taquitos, and the catch of the day, but I'm too embarrassed to call it in myself."

"Got it. Why don't you go relax on the patio, and I'll meet you out there?"

He watched you though the open French doors, admiring the perfect curve of your cheek and your round belly in the fading sunlight as he ordered an absurd amount of food along with two virgin margaritas. He asked them to send a few of the hot sauces for you to try, and then when he ended the call, he went rushing outside to be with you.

Just as you finally got cozy on his lap, the plethora of food arrived, and Bradley groaned as he stood to let them bring it in. As soon as you had the taco platter in front of you, your eyes lit up, and you started trying all of the sauces. Once he took a sip of both margaritas and confirmed there was no tequila involved, he handed one to you and took a seat at the patio table.

You laughed and asked, "What do you want me to do with this?"

"There's no alcohol. I got two in case you want both." He bit into his own meal which tasted even better than he anticipated, and the sound of the Gulf of California just beyond the short stretch of beach left him feeling very relaxed. "Or maybe the Nugget wants her own."

You took a sip and grinned. "Well, you've thought of everything. What else do you have planned for this long weekend?"

"You'll find out," he promised.

That first night, you fell asleep curled up at his side with a full belly and your hand resting on his chest. He'd left the Nugget notebook at home, and truthfully he didn't have much on his mind other than the fact that anything involving your tits was apparently fair game for him, so he decided to just talk to his daughter quietly instead of jotting anything down.

"Hey, Rose the Nugget," he whispered, feeling her thump as soon as he let his hand rest on the side of your bump. "It's Daddy." He smiled as she squirmed a bit, and honestly he didn't know how you were ever able to get any sleep when she was like this. "I love you. I can't wait to meet you in about eight weeks. Don't give your mom too hard a time, okay? No blood pressure spikes or anything like that. You just take it easy in there while I take care of her out here."

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

"Let's start with one habanero and see how you like the spice level before we add too much."

You nodded at Chef Santiago and did your best to mimic him cutting up the hot pepper. You were in the kitchen wearing latex gloves, a hair net and an apron over the adorable dress you bought. If you had known what Bradley had planned, you'd have packed something other than a pile of cute outfits and lingerie for the babymoon.

Not that your husband was complaining. His cock was in you just moments after you woke this morning. And when you got dressed earlier, he made a comment about how good your breasts looked and threatened to take you back to bed. If you didn't have plans with a hot sauce professional for the afternoon, you'd have let him.

"That looks perfect," Chef Santiago told you, and you moved on to the next step, trying to memorize everything you were learning. There were so many tiny nuances that would apparently raise or lower the spice level of a hot sauce, and you never knew it.

You could already imagine turning your own kitchen at home into a workshop while you make a signature hot sauce for Christmas presents at the end of the year. Bradley would be holding Rose to let her watch, telling her about how hot the peppers were and then probably singing a Red Hot Chili Peppers song to make her giggle. You'd be in your apron, dancing around to their nonsense.

"Now we're ready to blend." You looked up at Chef Santiago as he pulled you from your beautiful daydream. He was plugging in a blender, and you nodded in agreement.

"Yes. Time to blend it."

When you were finished, you left the kitchen with two bottles of the most delicious hot sauce you could imagine. Even the orange-red color was pretty, and you went right out to the beach instead of back to the hotel room. Bradley had supposedly gone kayaking while you were creating your masterpiece, but when you found him on a lounge chair between the pool and the sand, he was laying on his stomach, sound asleep and snoring.

"Roo," you whispered, running your fingers along his glistening, sweaty bicep. His mustache twitched, but that was it. "Bradley," you said a little louder, tracing a scar on his cheek. Even when you poked his neck and raked your fingers through his hair, he just kept snoring. "Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw."

With a groan, he cracked his eyes open against the afternoon sunlight. "Are you talking to me or yourself?" he asked, carefully rolling onto his back.

"You!" He liked to tease that you both had the same name at work, even though your last name was hyphenated. "You're going to get sunburned."

"Nah, I sprayed myself before kayaking," he insisted, reaching for your belly. "Did my girls have fun?"

"Absolutely," you replied, shaking your hot sauces as he pulled you down onto the chair next to him. "How was kayaking?"

He flexed as he lounged back on the chair. "It was a decent upper body workout. You gonna let me try the hot sauce?"

Now you were distracted. "Do that again," you whispered with a smile, and this time when he flexed, he tightened up his abs too. "Let's go back to the room for a quickie and some more sunblock, and I'll let you taste my hot sauce."

"That sounds like a euphemism," he murmured, but he was already standing up. "I'm in."

When you got back to the room, he wasn't quick at all. He was languid and methodical, skin warm from baking in the sun. His hair smelled like sweat and salt water, and his voice was deep as he made so many promises to you.

"I can't wait for Rose to get here. I love her so much already. I'm gonna take care of both of you forever."

True to form, his mouth was all over your chest, and he made sure you came before he indulged himself in some deep thrusts, filling you up as he called out your name against your neck. Two minutes after he cleaned you up, you already wanted more, but he looked tired, and he definitely got more sun than he thought he did.

"Come here," you coaxed, leading him out to the patio where you took a few minutes to coat him up with sunblock, kissing him each time you had to squeeze some more out of the tube.

"Thanks, Baby Girl," he murmured.

"This is purely selfish," you told him, licking his ear before putting a dab of sunblock there. "If you get a bad burn, you'll be out of commission, and you know how horny I am right now."

When you started to walk away, he reached for the hem of your dress and grabbed your thigh. You met his gaze once again, and the needy look there made you swallow hard. "Why don't you put on your red bikini from our honeymoon? We can go down to the water for a bit."

You knew he really wanted to see you wearing it with a big belly, but you felt a bit self conscious. The thing was skimpy enough before you were pregnant. But when he started stroking your tattoo through your dress, you whispered, "Let me get changed."

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

Bradley had his arm casually slung over your shoulders as the two of you walked along the beach in the early evening sun. It was a little less crowded now, and you were chattering away and wearing his aviators as you dropped your tote bag off at two empty chairs. Everyone was looking at you and your bump. You were some sort of combination of adorable and sexy at the moment, but he especially appreciated that you were wearing his sunglasses.

Just when he was ready to settle down and potentially take a nap with you this time, you shook your head and started leading him down to the water. He was exhausted from the sex and sun, but you were wearing your tiny honeymoon bikini, and he could see your rooster tattoo below your belly.

"This was your idea," you told him, playfully tugging on his arm while your tits bounced slightly. "You're the one who wanted to go in the water."

Bradley grunted softly and pretended that you were capable of pulling him where you wanted him to go. "I thought it was your idea," he teased, and you shot him a bland look over his aviators

"Come on, Daddy," you coaxed as your feet hit the water. You were grinning nonstop as you added, "If you're good, I'll show you my boobs when we get out there."

Bradley made sure his footing was solid, and you squealed when he picked you up and carried you into the water. "Roo! You're a maniac!"

The salty water splashed up around your body as you laughed, and soon Bradley was in waist-deep water with you clinging to the front of him. "You act like you don't know exactly what's going to get me going right now," he said, nipping at your lips. "Now show me the goods."

You kissed him hard and then whispered, "You have to work for it."

You wiggled free, and he chased you around in the water for a few minutes while you splashed him. Every time you glanced back over your shoulder to see where he was, your smile grew. Slowly he closed the distance, reaching for you under the water. When his hands found your hips, you let him pull you back until you were pressed against him. He could feel your quickening pulse when he kissed along your neck, and it matched his. Bradley spun you slowly in his arms so you were facing him, and he toyed with the ties on both sides of your bikini bottoms as your belly pushed against him.

With bright eyes, you looked up at him and bit your lip. Water droplets fell from his sunglasses where they were perched on the end of your nose and splashed against your tits. You glanced to your left and right, but there was nobody else in the water near the two of you. Saliva pooled on Bradley's tongue as his gaze followed your fingers to your bikini top, and you slowly pulled at the red triangles until he was staring longingly at your pert nipples as the salty water dripped onto your chest.

"That's more like it," he grunted, running his thumb along your wet skin and leaning down to kiss you there before you covered yourself up again. You always got his heart pumping harder, but right now, everything felt perfect. Your blood pressure seemed to be under control, and the baby was healthy. He was tired, but you were clearly having a great time.

The sky was growing darker now as the sun had set, and the purple and pink swirls mixed with blue giving everything a dreamy feel. You held onto him in the water, your head coming to rest against his shoulder so your lips brushed along his collarbone when you spoke.

"I love it here."

"In Loreto?" he asked, kissing your forehead. "We can always come back again when Rosie is older. The two of you can take a hot sauce class together."

You made a soft sound and said, "Yeah, I like it in Loreto, but I was talking about being snuggled up in your arms."

He felt soft inside as he whispered, "I love you." Then he closed his eyes, memorizing the feel of your pregnant body against his and the sound of your even breathing.

Just when he didn't think the moment could possibly get any better, somehow it did. You kissed his chest and said, "I was thinking about middle names and trying to decide what sounds good with Rose." You paused and tipped your head back, so he opened his eyes, and you asked, "What about Carole?"

Rose Carole Bradshaw. The words swirled around in his mind, and he knew that was without a doubt his daughter's name. She would always get to carry a piece of the grandmother she would never get to meet. The grandmother who would have loved her beyond measure.

It was hard to breathe as a happiness he'd never felt before filled his chest. All he could do was nod and whisper, "That's absolutely perfect."

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

Kink: unlocked. I can't wait to see Bradley in action after Rosie arrives. Just a few more chapters without the little Nugget! Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 13

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pure-smut · 2 months

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bloody knuckles.

featuring: Jo Togame x f!reader

contains: fighting (obvs, it's wind breaker), mentions of blood, oral (male receiving), nsfw below the cut

note: all characters are over 18!

MDNI | 18+ content

word count: 500

masterlist

a/n: I based this off a fanart from @rabbitseason it was absolutely *mwah* chefs kiss

SFW

Thinking about Jo Togame who isn’t threatened when other guys look at you – he knows you’re attractive so obviously they will. Besides, he trusts you implicitly.

Thinking about Jo Togame who definitely does have a problem when these guys won’t leave you alone. You get a bit flustered, trying to tell them you have a boyfriend, but they’re not listening.

Thinking about Jo Togame who can move fast when he wants to, crossing the street in three steps, an easy grin on his face. He slings an arm around your shoulder and feels you relax immediately, his presence reassuring. But these guys aren’t deterred, insisting on your number and that a pretty little thing like you needs more of man.

Thinking about Jo Togame who tells you to meet him at home before pressing a kiss so gently to your forehead. When you look up at him, he’s smiling but his green eyes are hard as emeralds.

Thinking about Jo Togame who comes home with bloody knuckles. He hands you his jacket – “Take care of this so I don’t get blood on it, yeah?” – and sits down heavily on the couch.

Thinking about Jo Togame who gestures for you to come sit on his lap, so you do. You cup his face and tenderly pepper kisses over his face. You tell him you’ll clean up his hands, bandage his split knuckles but he only tells you “later” and holds you tight.

NSFW

Thinking about Jo Togame who’s so tense and sore after his fight, you can feel it in his shoulders and back. You whisper, “I’ll take care of you, baby” and he grins wide.

Thinking about Jo Togame who watches you through half-lidded eyes as you slide off his lap and between his legs, palming his bulge, feeling him hard already.

Thinking about Jo Togame who rests his arms on the back of the couch, letting you pull down his sweatpants just enough to free his cock. “You’re so good to me, sweetheart,” he tells you. “Such a good girl.”

Thinking about Jo Togame who wants to close his eyes and enjoy the feel of your sweet little mouth around his cock but he can’t stop watching you. Your cute pink tongue flicking out to lick along the thick ridges of his cock before swirling around his sensitive head.

Thinking about Jo Togame who wants to tangle his fingers in your hair but stops himself, not wanting to get blood on you. Instead, he fists the top of the couch cushions, groaning as he hits the back of your throat, his hips instinctively thrusting up.

Thinking about Jo Togame who watches you swallow his load and it almost gets him hard again. But you’ve been so, so good to him so he pulls you back up onto his lap. “Let’s go get me cleaned up, yeah?” he says, kissing along your jaw. “So I can take care of you next.”

masterlist

Support me on Ko-Fi! ♡

#wind breaker smut #wind breaker x reader #jo togame x reader #jo togame x you #togame jo x reader #togame jo x you #togame x you #togame x reader #togame smut #jo togame smut #togame jo smut

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38sr · 1 year

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My Adventures with Superman EP 4: Design Works

My goodness it feels so strange to see these designs two years later but I actually had a hand in Clark, Lois and Jimmy’s gala suits in episode 4 of My Adventures with Superman!

This happened WAY back in Sept 2021 but during my first week on the show I jokingly sent a piece of art to one of the design leads and well, one thing led to another:

This is kind of running gag with my work, but I somehow always predict things when I draw fanart haha. I truly didn’t know there was gonna be a gala episode and now I was tasked to do a pass for the main trio’s gala outfits.

CLARK KENT

Naturally since it started with Clark, he was the first one I did a pass on. I actually really like men’s suits design so this was the most fun to design out of the three. Overall, I drafted up four different suits that gave 4 different feels for our soft boi. Option A was a full 3 piece with slick backed hair (which honestly now feels very Bruce Wayne than Clark haha). Option B had a high school prom feel, Option C was more business casual (hence why his dress shirt was unbuttoned at top) and finally Option D was sleek turtleneck & suit combo. Honestly, I was rooting Option D ‘cause I’m a sucker for a turtleneck but if I remember correct they went with Option B ‘cause it felt the most Clark. But just know I tried haha.

LOIS LANE

Lois’s outfit was quite challenging since I had no clue until I was given the assignment that she’s Korean (yes, Lois is canonically Korean in the show). I remember the design leads Jane Bak and Dou Hong showing me a rough concept of a modern hanbok. I spent so many days researching hanboks and the construction behind them...it truly was a learning experience for me haha. It was quite challenging trying to create and outfit that spoke to Lois’ heritage while still keeping her energy. This was my very first pass but I think ultimately the team did a great job to hone in the final look and balance both elements for her outfit (the backless top is just chef’s kiss). Also yes, I did try giving Lois slick back hair haha.

JIMMY OLSEN

There isn’t much to say about Jimmy’s outfit (sadly I left the production to work on Spiderman Freshman Year before seeing what they decided on). But from what I remember, I specifically was looking at men’s outfits from the Met Gala from that year and before (I think Chadwick Boseman was the biggest influence for me at the time). Though I think his final suit design aren’t like too far off from my initial thoughts, it’s still super cool to see how it evolved into the final look! But yeah! Just a little behind the scenes on the work I got to do on the show. Again, super brief since Spidey was calling my name but I truly had so much fun getting to design for this show. MAWS was my first ever time doing design work (since I primarily work as a 2D animator and board artist). I was so nervous but the team was welcoming and taught me so much! I really have to thank Dou Hong and Jake Wyatt for taking a chance on me and allowing me to draw hot anime characters for a DC show haha.

#long post #my adventures with superman #maws #maws spoilers #superman #lois lane #clark kent #jimmy olsen #digital art #character design

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ellieluvr420 · 8 months

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wife Abby headcanons xoxo

-You met at a bar when your friend cancelled on you last minute, she offered to buy you a drink and you chatted at the bar until she invited you back to hers, this was back when you were 22 and she was 25 so her flat was more modest but still well decorated and clean. You both shared a bottle of wine and sat and spoke more for hours until you were both so drunk you started doing karaoke together by watching youtube videos on her TV, she invited you out to an actual karaoke bar as your second date and she only fell even more in love with you the more she saw you.

-I think she would work in corporate like a lawyer or investment banker or something so I think she would try and work from home as much as they would let her.

-She looks so funny when she works from home too because she wears work clothes on her top half for her zoom calls but then she would be wearing pj bottoms and her slippers on her bottom half.

-Such a victim of Apple's marketing, always insists she needs the newest phone or whatever they had brought out, she has the watch, the phone, an ipad, an imac, macbook pro, airpod pros and airpod max's. Literally everything they sell because she's actually a tech geek at heart.

"I totally need it."

"Give me one reason you need an iPad Abigail."

"...I don't know, it's just cool."

You roll your eyes at her but chuckle at her insistence as you press a small kiss to her pouty lips. She smiles at you and looks like a child on Christmas day as she orders her new toy.

-She would so wear the airpod max's while working out and i think she'd always have one of those gallon water bottles that she'd take everywhere with her.

"Babe please just let me buy you one, trust me it will make you drink so much more water."

"No it won't, do not waste your money seriously." She'd huff at your stubbornness and go and buy you one anyway.

-I think she would workout at night or during the day if she can fit it in which rarely happens because she enjoys her mornings with you where you guys cuddle and chat and have breakfast together before she goes to work or gets started in the home office

-Does majority of the cooking because she really enjoys it and is also a chef, like she whips up three course meals so regularly like its nothing.

-You try and make dinner together on the weekends which equates to her micromanaging you until she gets too stressed watching you mess up and does it herself while you sit on the counter entertaining her.

-She always goes to sleep as big spoon and always wakes up as little spoon, every night, without failure. Also loves to lay on your stomach with her arms around your waist, one of her fav cuddling positions.

-She's the kind of person to ignore and persevere through a cold until she literally passes out and will get mad at you when you have to force her to rest but once she's comfy and has accepted she's ill she's such a baby.

-She would be so good with kids and they would all love her too like when you would go to family gatherings together all the kids would always be glued to her pulling her every which way

-loves dogs and cats and wants two of each

-loves home date nights where you cook together and watch films or play games whether its board, video or card games. Once you bought a fake police file and tried to figure out who the murderer was, it ended in a huge argument because you couldn't agree on who it was, you were so annoyed you made her sleep on the sofa but in the middle of night she sauntered back into your room and climbs into bed cuddling into you.

"Sorry babe, you were right." She kisses your forehead and you smile as you both go to sleep happily, Abby had managed to find the answer online but she didn't tell you that you were in fact wrong, she would rather be in bed cuddling you than prove she was right.

-I think she would want 3 kids, preferably boy, girl, boy or vice versa but she would be happy with any kids.

-If/when kids come along she starts working from home primarily and you watch them grow together.

-She would eventually want to move away from the city where she lived for an easy commute to work to a beautiful house in the country with large fields behind a huge back garden where the dogs and cats, and ducks all play with the kids.

-She would love reading crime thriller books but she also has a guilty pleasure for romance and sometimes she'll sit in bed with you and read you parts of the books. Can imagine older Abby refusing to get reading glasses because that makes her officially old but she’s literally holding the book as far as it will go and squinting so hard and she still can’t read it, you eventually give in and read it to her which only motivates her to not get glasses more because this was a way better option.

-Loves Family Guy, American Dad, South Park, all those kind of shows but if you put on a drama she'll grumble and then be hooked.

"Oh my god, oh my god, are you fucking kidding me? Noooooooo." Abby yells at the screen as she watches the season 1 finale of vampire diaries with you, you had started rewatching it as it was nostalgic and she made fun of you so much until you forced her to watch the episode you were watching.

Like I could so see her watching greys anatomy and sobbing when there's a major character death

-Goes to get mani pedis with you and she'll always get her nails painted to match the colour of yours even when you'd pick super bright to mess with her she'd get it without batting an eye.

-Of course she gets along super well with all your friends and family, sometimes you think they love her more than you 😀

okay that's all I got for now but I will probs do way more once the series is finished :))

#abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson x reader #abby the last of us #abby x reader #abby anderson #abby anderson tlou2 #abby anderson x fem!reader #abby tlou #tlou abby #abby anderson tlou #abby x fem!reader

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aestheticaltcow · 2 months

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Drunken Escapades

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader

This was a request from about 3ish months ago.

It turns out you met Mikey before he passed; you just didn't know it.

The Bear Masterlist

“Top you off?” Syd asked after she’d refilled her wine glass. You shook your head, “If I do more than a glass and a half, I get…messy.” you excused, the casual atmosphere making you feel at ease.

Carmy laughed from the kitchen, making you roll your eyes. “Is there a fun New York story here?” Syd asked as Carmy and Richie joined the women at Syd’s cramped table. Richie sat across from you and nudged his chin up in your direction. “What’s the story, sweetheart?” he laughed.

You scratched the back of your head as Carmy put an arm over your shoulders and flashed a shit-eating grin in your direction, “Tell’em the story of how we met, baby. It’s a good, what do they call it…”

“Carmy, it’s a lot of things, but I would never refer to it as a meet-cute,” you laughed. Syd looked between the two of you. Over the past few months, you and she had become pretty good friends, bonding over the mutual frustrations of knowing Carmen Berzatto. But you still had your secrets. “I was a different girl back then- a little wilder; Carmy has grounded me quite a bit.”

“Well, now we gotta know!” Richie cackled as he gestured to Syd, trying to egg her into getting you to confess the story. Syd rolled her eyes and shrugged, “I’m curious, but it’s your story-”

“Okay-Okay, fine,” you said, the anticipation in the air palpable as you laughed defensively, staring at the table. Carmy squeezed your shoulder, “It’s okay, baby. It can stay our dirty secret.” he assured you. You groaned and let your head fall back before sitting up straighter, “Okay. So imagine with me here. I’m at this bar with my friends for a girls' night out. Of course, they all ditched me over the course of about an hour, so I sat at the bar by myself. I get shit-faced- that’s beside the point. I get up to go to the bathroom, only to fuckin’ body this man.”

“Carmy? I can’t imagine that child in a bar.” Richie’s laughter interrupted your story. Carmy rolled his eyes, “I used to go to bars- but I wasn’t the guy she bodied at the bar.” he clarified before turning his attention back to you.

“It was his friend Morgan Tylers- you know, the pastry chef that went crazy viral on Twitter for making those elevated candy bar cakes back in 2020,” you explained, noticing the subtly of Carmy’s jaw flex. He wasn’t necessarily jealous, but hearing about your drunken escapades with other guys wasn’t his favorite thing in the world.

“Anyway, I ended up dangling on him for hours, right, but then I started getting really overstimulated because of the lights in the bar, and I started crying. Morgan got really uncomfortable having a drunk, crying girl sitting on his lap, so he got up, dragged me with him, and causally introduced me to Carmy.” you grinned, “I don’t remember what happened after that, but I may or may not have thrown up on Carmy… twice…” you wiped your nose with the back of your hand as you tried to hide your embarrassment.

“She did. I made sure she got home safe, and three years later, here we are.” Carmy concluded, pulling you closer to kiss your temple. “Ew Carmy, not in my apartment. Com’on.” Syd playfully cringed before polishing off her glass of wine.

“That isn’t even my worst drunk story.” you laughed. “Whats worse than meeting Carmy?” Richie mumbled as he finished off his drink. Carmy rolled his eyes and reached over to shove him, “Fuck off, jackass.”

“What’s the story?” Syd cautiously asked. You shook your head and tucked your loose bangs behind your ear. “Oh, if you thought throwing up on Carmy twice was bad, this one is worse.” you started.

“2016. Riot Fest. During Rob Zombie’s set on Sunday, I met this guy- we were making out on the outskirts of the crowd. I don’t know what triggered it, but I threw up… in his mouth. And then again on myself… and him a little bit more. I ran away because I was so fucking embarrassed. It was a low point in my life.” you begrudgingly admitted.

Richie looked between you and Carmy as his jaw went slack, “Holy shit, you’re puke girl.” he chuckled as he leaned back in his chair. You shot him a confused look, encouraging him to continue. “You were makin’ out with Mikey.”

“Wait. Mikey, as in Mikey-Mikey?” you questioned. Richie nodded as he ran his tongue across his top row of teeth. “Yeah, Chi-Chi got a hook-up for tickets, so we all went. Mikey went off to do god knows what, and when we found him again, he was absolutely covered in puke. He said he was gettin’ to second base with this girl, but then she puked on him.” Richie awkwardly explained as he fidgeted with the paper towel he’d used as a napkin.

You looked at Carmy, who’d gone pale. He nodded, and an awkward silence took over the room. You chuckled, “I guess I just have to puke on Natalie now…” Syd erupted in laughter. She quickly apologized, but the laughter had become contagious. Richie started laughing, too. Carmy shook his head and playfully pushed you, “I swear. I can’t take you anywhere.”

#the bear #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto imagine #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto one shot #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy the bear #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto imagine #carmy berzatto fanfiction #carmen berzatto angst #carmen berzatto blurb #carmen berzatto fluff #carmen berzatto x you #aestheticaltcow #aestheticaltcow request box

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house-of-lovin · 1 year

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legally binded - 9

Jenna Ortega x F!Reader

masterlist | series mast. | prev. part | next part

Chapter 9 : Grand Prix and Grand Gestures

Summary: After getting caught in some hot waters with the press, you are forced into an unexpected agreement with America's sweetheart, Jenna Ortega to save your career.

Warnings/Tags: famous!reader, actress!reader, mentions of substances, intoxication, mature language, real people. (do not read if any of these make you uncomfortable)

(this is all fiction!)

Note: sorry for the long wait for this new chapter, just enjoying my summer yk! anyways, thanks for your guys' continued support and patience! much love!!

Word Count: 5.6k+

When Jenna stepped out of her room at precisely 4:45 AM, with the early morning sun yet to rise, the last thing she expected to find was the shared kitchen to be a mess.

Courtesy of you, of course. ‘Cause who else?

“What the hell are you doing to our kitchen?” Jenna croaked out, running a hand against the plastered wall as a guide as she tiredly rubbed her sleep-filled eyes with the other. When the blurring in her vision goes away, they settle on you looking… wired, like you’d had three cups of espresso already.

“Good morning!” You whispered, admiring her messy bedhead with a large toothy smile. “I’m making you breakfast.”

“Why?” She asked, voice hoarse. You rolled your eyes as you passed her a steaming mug of coffee without a word causing her to flick a brow up, opting to take a sip instead of questioning it.

“I’m making you breakfast so you don’t go to work hungry, again.” You explained matter-of-factly, turning your back to check on the stove. The younger actress couldn’t stave off her surprise that you’ve noticed her skipping the most important meal of the day. “Now I’m not the best cook. But, I learned a thing or two about making a mean avocado toast, and since you’re vegetarian… it’s really the only thing I can make you.”

Jenna didn’t expect her heart to be racing so early in the morning. Since your talk, the two of you have been more at ease around the other; falling back into that natural banter, every once in a while. But she can’t lie… the friends' agreement has been difficult to follow through with, especially since you’ve started with gestures such as this.

The younger actress finds she’s started to… allow herself to enjoy these domestic moments with you, knowing that now, feelings are very much reciprocated — just, without a label yet.

Placing the steaming mug down on the kitchen island, she chose not to comment on how her coffee was made exactly how she liked it. “I appreciate the gesture, Y/N. I hope you didn’t wake up early just to make me breakfast.”

You turned off the stove, took the pan off the burner, and rolled your eyes. “Get off your high horse, I was already up.” Turning around with the pan still in your hand.

“You were already up or you didn’t go to sleep?” She countered, expression flat.

You smiled sheepishly, “Jet lag is kicking my ass.”

Jenna snorted and watched as you plated the perfectly-browned toast on a dish and spread some avocados on top; garnishing it with the utmost (adorable) concentration on your face before sliding the plate across the island with a small but proud grin.

“Consider it compliments of the chef,” you send her a playful wink, glancing down. Jenna follows your line of sight, reading the printed words on the apron.

Kiss the Chef.

She tried to fight the smile creeping on her face but it proved futile when she felt the familiar warmth enveloping her pale morning cheeks.

“You’re not as smooth as you think you are…” Was the best response the younger actress could trust herself to utter. “When did you even buy that?”

You laughed, picking up your own cup of coffee. “I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

Jenna ignored you, electing to take a bite of the toast. She almost felt bad for eating something that you put so much effort towards. But when she takes a bite, she finds herself letting out a muffled moan, making you flush red at the sound. “Holy shit, what did you put in this?”

Plastering a smile, you teased, “it’s a secret.”

“You’re annoying…” Jenna covered her mouth, as she ate.

“Finish eating or you’ll be late.” You reminded, taking off the apron. The time zone change still messed with your internal body clock, meaning at times, you’d still be up when Jenna awoke for a day of work.

You noted the times she got up and at which of those mornings she managed to eat. After the third day of her waking up late, you decided that the next day you’d be kind and make her a healthy breakfast, knowing it’s often difficult to find time to eat during a busy day of filming.

“Wait…” Jenna called out before you could leave the kitchen. “What are you doing today?”

You racked your brain; thinking for a moment. “I gotta start packing for Monaco, I leave this Wednesday.”

Jenna remembered you telling her that you’ve been invited to the F1 Grand Prix. She doesn’t really understand the race, but she found your childlike glee over a bunch of cars… endearing. It’s slightly childish that she feels a bit upset by you leaving so suddenly, but these last few weeks have felt blissful ever since your confession. She finds herself wanting to stay in this bubble the two of you have created for as long as she can. “Oh, right…”

“Why, what’s up?”

“Nothing… just wondering ‘cause my family’s actually flying in this weekend,” Jenna admitted, gauging your reaction, noting the way you stood straighter on your feet.

“They are?”

Jenna hummed. “Yeah, they’re here for a week. They were gonna stay at a hotel but if you’re going to Monaco then…”

You blinked, unsure if you should ask why she didn’t tell you her family was flying in sooner. “Oh yeah, no problem. Listen, it’s your apartment.”

Jenna rolled her eyes, correcting you, “It’s our apartment. You’re living here too.”

Chuckling, you averted your eyes. “Well, in that case. Mi casa es su casa.”

“Your Spanish needs a bit of work...” But Jenna can’t fight her smile.

“Rude,” laughing, you added, “it’s probably best to skip town though— your family’s probably still mad at me.”

Jenna immediately rounds the counter to stand in front of you, shaking her head in denial. “They’re not mad, Y/N. I already told you.”

You shoot her a grimaced smile, “I know, I’m just joking, but I’m still scared of your sisters… Also, your mom may or may not have texted me about that paparazzi pic of you smoking cigarettes.”

Her brows raised, as her jaw dropped, “she did?”

You hummed in response.

“Fuck…” She grumbled, causing you to laugh. “What did she say?”

“Nothing you haven’t already heard from her Instagram stories…” You smirked, enjoying her annoyed scowl.

“Shut up.”

“Hey, it’ll be alright.” You placed a hand on her shoulder, lightly rubbing it. Ignoring the way she straightened her posture at your touch. “A scolding is probably the most you’ll get out of her.”

“I’m 20 years old, I can do whatever I want.” Dropping your hand, you laughed again.

“You may think you’re grown but she’s always going to be your mom. She’s just looking out for you. Not to mention, she’s a nurse, what'd you expect?” You jest but she rolled her eyes, staring up at you with a slight pout in her frown causing your heart to stop dead in its tracks; desperately trying to stare at her lips for too long.

Maybe it was the confession, or the ‘clearing the air’ that you two have done. But every touch and look from Jenna feels weighted — in a pleasant way, this time.

She sighed heavily, leaning her hip on the kitchen island. “I know… it’s just embarrassing.”

“At least you know she cares.” You chuckled, patting her shoulder reassuringly before walking off to the living room.

She ignored the possible meaning behind your words. Although she’d love to dive into the story of your mom and hear it from your account, maybe having that conversation at five o’clock in the morning isn’t the best idea.

“Come on, finish up and go shower. You’re gonna be late.” You called out behind you before plopping on the couch.

“You better wash those dishes…”

“Ugh, later.” You groaned. “I need a nap.”

—

Jenna (2:35 PM): hope you’re having a great time in Monaco 🖤

“Get off your phone…” Tom said before snatching the device right from your hand.

“Dude…”

“You’re in Monaco with the best cars and drivers in the entire world and you’re glued to your phone – what’re you looking at anyway.” the Brit commented, reading the text before you could stop him. “Aw… how cute, she sent a heart.”

“Shut up. You literally made us late ‘cause you spent all night talking to Z.” Attempting to grab your phone back was futile when he held it out of reach, tossing it to Link who was enjoying this interaction judging by the large grin smacked on his face.

“She’s my girlfriend.” Tom defended but it fell on deaf ears as soon as you saw Link begin to scroll through your past messages with Jenna.

“Link… give it back, I need to respond!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll text her back.” Link winked before typing a response. You immediately leapt out of your seat, plucking your phone out of his grasp but it was too late, he’d already sent the message.

“Thinking about you? Really?” You deadpanned despite the warmth coursing fervently through your cheeks. “You’re such an ass…”

“You’re just mad that I finally said what you were really thinking.” He called out as you walked away, fingers slightly trembling as you hit the call button. You wait a few (agonizingly long) seconds, listening to the line ring.

“Hey…”

“Oh, hey,” there was some shuffling on the other line, “I was just about to text you back.”

“About that… sorry about that text, Link was being an asshole and took my phone.” You muttered sheepishly; trembling fingers picking at your trousers to counter the nerves that suddenly overcame you.

“Oh? So you weren’t thinking about me?” Her tone is light and teasing. You paint a mental image of her bright, wide smile that usually accompanied her playful taunts; it sent a flurry of butterflies swarming around in your belly.

You pass it off as a stomach ache from your breakfast this morning.

“Come on…” You trail off, not wanting to admit it.

“Wow, I see how it is…”

“Jenna…” You sighed, dropping your fiddling fingers. “Of course, I was thinking about you.”

The line is silent as Jenna doesn’t respond and suddenly you feel embarrassed at your school-girl-like confession. Though it’s technically only been two days since you left London for Monaco, you’d be lying straight through your teeth if you were to deny the fact that you’ve been thinking about the younger actress since the moment you stepped out of the shared apartment.

“I’ve been thinking about you too.” Jenna replied in a small voice. Her admittance causes your heart to stop momentarily but what you couldn’t stop, however, was the satisfied smile creeping on your lips.

Was it pathetic that all Jenna had to do was say a simple, cliché sentence to you and you were practically a puddle on the floor? Maybe, but you couldn’t care less about that right now.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah…”

“Glad we’re on the same page then…” You uttered, glancing around, hoping no one could see your Cheshire grin. Immediately catching Tom and Link at the other end of the balcony making kissing faces at you. You stick up the not-so-nice finger at them before turning your back on the two men, ignoring their blatant and obnoxious laughter, “I hope I didn’t interrupt anything when I called.”

Jenna was supposed to be on set working today, you’d hate to interrupt a busy day’s work…. That’s a lie, this phone call was totally worth it.

“Oh no, you didn’t. I’m actually at the apartment.”

“I thought you’d still be on set?”

“Um, about that…” She trails off in a sheepish tone.

“Jen? What’s wrong?” You asked, panic evident.

“I might’ve—uh—injured myself at work today.” She admitted.

“What?! Are you okay? How? Do you need me to come ba—“

“Y/N… breathe.” She interjects your nervous questioning but it merely goes over your head. Your nerves sky-rocketing the longer she doesn’t answer your questions.

“Are you okay?” You repeated what you really needed to know first.

“I’m fine, I promise,” she chuckled, “just a sprained ankle. I twisted it during rehearsal. It’s not a big deal but they sent me home early to rest.”

“Are you icing it? Keeping it elevated? You know what, send me a picture I wanna see if the swelling is bad.”

Jenna’s laughter doubles. “I’m okay. I promise. Yes, I'm icing it and yes I’m keeping it elevated. You don't have to play doctor. I’ll even send you a picture, just relax.”

“I’m just worried.”

“I know you are.” She said, almost like she was endeared. “But like I said, it’s just a sprained ankle. They gave me crutches, so I’m good.”

“Crutches?! Do I need to come back home?”

Jenna ignored how her heart swooped at the word: home.

“No,” she laughed, “enjoy your time with the boys and your cars. You looked good on that racetrack, you sure being an actress is your calling?”

You rolled your eyes at her choice of timing for a joke, “You know I’ll leave them in a heartbeat. Just say the word and I’ll be on the first flight back.”

On the other end of the line, Jenna is torn between swooning and mentally cursing you for being so sweet. She bit her lip to subdue the smile creeping in, “that’s very sweet, Y/N, but I promise. I’ll be okay, my family’s flying in on Sunday anyway. I’ll be fine until then.”

You sighed unsurely, “Are you sure?” That’s still a few days where she’d have to be alone until someone could help her around the house.

“Yes! Now go, enjoy Monaco. Maybe I’ll even turn on the racing channel or whatever and get a glimpse of you.”

“You did not just say the racing channel…”

“Go!” She laughed and this time, you relent at her assured tone.

“Fine… but if anything else happens, call me, please?”

“You’ll be the first one to know, I promise.”

“Okay…” You take a deep breath hoping to calm your nerves. If Jenna says she’s okay, then you have no reason to go against her wishes. “I’ll text you?”

“Mhmm. Bye, be safe.”

“Bye…” You hang up, dropping the phone from your ear, anxiously tapping it against your other hand as you contemplate your options.

“That was a long call,” Link swung his arm over your shoulder, leaning into your side. “You already miss your girl? It’s only been a day.”

“Quit it. She’s not my girl.” You back-hand him squarely on the stomach causing him to heave out a rough, pained puff. The satisfaction of seeing your best friend in pain was a dull noise in the background of your restless thoughts. “She injured herself on set, I was just making sure she’s okay.”

You chewed on your lip nervously, ignoring Link’s probing eyes as he scanned your faraway look.

“Is it serious?”

“No, just a sprained ankle.”

Link continued to observe you; seeing straight through you. An amused smile painted itself squarely on his lips. “... you’re gonna leave, aren’t you?”

—

“What the— I told you to stay. What are you doing here?”

“And I told you to send me a picture of your sprain.”

Jenna frowned, closely watching as you slipped the duffle bag off your shoulders; landing on the hardwood with a loud thud.

“Get back on the couch. You shouldn’t be walking.” You ordered, briefly scanning her head-to-toe and letting out a concealed sigh of relief that her ankle didn’t seem too bad.

“I’m injured, not crippled.” She replied unamused. You meet her eyes, mimicking her expression until the brunette realized you’re not backing down. “Fine…”

“Let me help you.” You stepped forward, taking a closer look at her injury. Her left ankle was covered in a compression wrap as she hobbled around with a single crutch.

“I’m fine.”

“Jenna, let me help.” You said in a serious tone, not backing down.

She rolled her eyes, slowly turning around with her crutch to walk back to the living room, hoping you missed her rosy cheeks. She ignored the intense thudding in her chest as you walked together. The thought of you leaving a trip that obviously meant a lot to you, sent the younger actress’ heart into a frenzy.

“What are you doing here?” The younger actress asked again once she was comfortably seated on the sofa.

You took a seat beside her, “I was worried.”

“I told you I was fine, you’re acting like I’m on my deathbed.”

Rolling your eyes, you grabbed the pillow behind you and placed it between you and Jenna. Scooting back to gesture for her to rest the injured ankle on the pillow. “I wouldn’t have enjoyed the race knowing that you’re back in London with an injury… so, I left.”

Jenna stayed silent, not trusting herself to say what she was really feeling. So she opted to stare as you examined her wrapped ankle, seemingly satisfied that her injury wasn’t as bad as you had thought.

“I’m just trying to be a good friend… and roommate.” You joked, grabbing the discarded remote off the coffee table. Ignoring the way your skin burned the longer she stared at you unspeaking.

Jenna snorted at your words, grabbing the pillow behind her and playfully lunging it at you. You caught the feeble attempt. “Right, roommate.”

You laughed at the tone that accompanied her words, “how did you hurt yourself anyway?”

If Jenna’s cheeks turned any rosier, she’d be the human embodiment of a tomato. It was embarrassing, really and she blames Aliyah for sending that video.

She might’ve been too distracted watching a clip of you and Tom walking along the racetrack, waving to the crowd. As luck would have it, she was supposed to be rehearsing for a scene, walking over to her next marking. However, one misstep over a wire sent her ankle twisting in an abnormal way. “I wasn’t paying attention to the marking on the floor and I tripped over a loose wire.”

Jenna was definitely not going to tell you the truth. You’d never let her hear the end of it.

You sent her a questioning look, “I don’t know whether to laugh or feel bad.”

“Is it too late for you to go back to Monaco?” She joked, straight-faced.

“I’m kidding, of course, I feel bad.“ You settled back into a comfortable position.

“How did you get back so fast?” She inquired.

“It’s only a two-hour flight.”

Glancing at the clock on the wall, Jenna noted that you were on the phone merely two and a half hours ago. “You got through security that fast?”

You blush red.

As soon as the jet landed on the tarmac and the seatbelt lights turned off, you were posted by the doors; impatiently tapping your foot on the floor.

“Miss L/N, your driver is waiting just outside.” The flight attendant alerted you. You nodded, sending a tight-lipped smile.

“Thank you.”

When the doors opened and the stairs hit the pavement, you were already rushing down the steps, making eye contact with the driver.

“Miss, I can take your bags.”

“That’s alright.” You tossed them in the back seat before shutting the doors. “How fast can you get back to the apartment?”

“GPS says 45 minutes but there is heavy traffic on the highway.”

“I’ll drive.” You held your hand out. He looked unsure before seeing that you were not playing around, swiftly handing the keys over.

“Yes, ma’am.”

You made sure to tip the man handsomely after noticing his white-knuckle grip on the grab handles as you maneuvered through said traffic.

“Uh yeah and I got lucky, no traffic. Anyways….wanna watch Breaking Bad? Unless you finished it already, in that case, we can watch something else.” You changed the subject, Jenna didn’t need to know how you drove that SUV like it was a race car and broke multiple speeding laws just to get here.

“No, Breaking Bad is good. I haven’t watched it since we were at my parents' house.”

You turn, evidently surprised that she kept your unspoken promise. Trying to hide your growing smile, you face the TV again before the staring becomes too obvious.

“Me too.”

—

“Are you sure you’re fine to go to work today? It’s only been like, a day.”

It’s Sunday morning, too early for anyone to be awake. With the sky still covered in a blanket of darkness, you tiredly lean against the wall, trying your best to string coherent words together as you reason with Jenna, who lightly limped around the large room as she gets ready for work.

“Technically, it’s been two.” She glanced at you momentarily. “I don’t want to delay production.”

“Jenna, you're injured. They can get a stand-in or just not film your scenes today.” You argued. Having had your fair share of on-set injuries, you knew that a major film could afford to delay filming for the sake of an injury. This was merely Jenna’s workaholic tendencies making her feel that she couldn’t stop working. “They can and should accommodate for you, Jenna.”

At your gruffed tone, Jenna dropped what she was looking for, walking over to stand in front of you. “Hey…”

You glanced at your hands, ignoring her soft tone. “Look at me, please?”

Jenna grabbed your hand, drawing your attention to her. “I’ll be okay. If my ankle starts to bother me, I’ll let the director know.”

“You promise?” You asked, glancing down when she started rubbing soft lines against your skin.

“I promise.” She squeezed for good measure.

You studied her soft gaze, attentive to the assured glimmer behind them. Letting out a sigh, you pushed your worries aside. “Okay.”

She smiled at your obvious concern, dropping your hand to walk back to the living room.

You try not to draw attention to the way your fingers twitched at the loss of contact. “By the way, my family will be here at noon. Are you good to be alone with them while I’m at work?”

“Yeah… I think I’ll be fine.” To distract yourself, you walked off to the kitchen, grabbing a mug for your morning coffee; allowing a gentle silence to envelop the room as Jenna hobbled around and gathered her things.

“Crap!” Jenna suddenly said, emerging out of her room.

“What?” You turned, slightly startled. “What’s wrong?”

“I forgot to set up the guest bedroom for them.”

“Oh.” Your shoulders dropped. “I already did it, don’t worry.”

Her brows raised, “you called the housekeeper already?”

“No. I did it myself. We don’t need him.”

Jenna seemed surprised if the raised brows were anything to go by. It was amusing truly, but you elected to stay silent, turning back to make your coffee.

“Thank you…” She finally said.

“Don’t mention it.” You shrugged, “If you want, I can pick up your family at the airport too. Heathrow is a bitch to navigate.”

Jenna didn’t respond, just staring at your back from her spot in the living room. You were unaware of her internal turmoil.

“Jen?” You turned around when you realized she didn’t reply; just staring at you with an unwavering intensity. “Jenna?”

“What?” She blinked a couple of times. “What did you say?”

“I said I can pick up your family from the airport.” You sipped on the steaming mug, a single brow flicking upright in question.

“Oh–uh, no. T-That’s alright, I’m sending a car over to pick them up.” She stuttered pathetically; grateful that the dim lights from the lamp in the corner of the room did well to hide the crimson rising over her neck. “You shouldn’t be seen at Heathrow. You might get spotted.”

“I can wear a disguise.” You thought out loud.

Jenna snorted, pushing away her inner strife. “Oh yeah? Like what, a baseball hat and sunglasses?”

“Hey, it works!” You defended. “Not everyone can just blend in with their height.”

“Was that a short joke?” Jenna arched a sharp brow.

“Nope.” You stood wide-eyed. “Oh hey, I just remembered I left something in my room. Okay. Bye. Have a good day at work.”

Jenna laughed as you scurried off to your bedroom, glad that she hasn’t lost her edge with you.

—

“I can’t believe you cancelled on the driver.”

The younger actress said as soon as you swung the front door open. Faintly, she can hear the familiar sounds of laughter farther into the apartment. “You’re so stubborn.”

“You act like that’s a new fact.” You snicker, a pleased smile plastered on your lips. “I’d like an apology by the way. The disguise worked perfectly — just like I said it would.”

“You’re too much sometimes.” She shook her head, stepping into the hall.

“In the best way, though. Right?” You asked, letting her in.

“If it helps you sleep better.” Jenna shrugged, chucking her work bag on the side table.

“Now look who’s being stubborn.” You replied with a knowing smile. “Go say hi and then wash up. Natalie and I are making dinner.”

She raised her brows in surprise as you walked away. Her footsteps faltering when she walks into the living room. Gaze instantly landing on her sisters and Dad lounging on the couch, in the corner of her eyes she finds her mom who was chopping up vegetables on the kitchen island.

“Hey, guys…” She said slowly, still taking the scene in front of her.

“Jen!” Mia sprung up from her seat and tugged her sister into a tight hug.

One by one, Aliyah, her dad and her mom sauntered over to greet and fret over her. Sentiments of I miss you, echoing in the vast apartment.

“It’s good to see you, honey.” Her mom said with a smile. “I hope you’ve been taking care of that ankle.”

Jenna rolled her eyes at her Mom’s fretting but nodded reassuringly. “I’m okay, Mom. Y/N’s been helping me.”

“So I’ve heard.” She winked, walking away.

“Uh– you guys made yourselves comfortable…” Jenna cleared her throat as she watched how her mom swiftly walked back to the kitchen where you were leaning against the island, observing her family with a small smile.

“Y/N said to make yourselves at home. Blame her.” Aliyah said, tugging her onto the couch. “How’s filming been? How’s working with Winona Ryder, tell me everything!”

“Great uh–what’s for dinner?” Was the first question the actress asked, too distracted by watching your concentrated expression. The slight scrunch in your forehead as you closely listened to her mom’s instructions was more interesting than what her sister was asking her.

“Mom’s teaching her how to make frijoles.” Mia smirked at her sister’s doe-eyed look.

“Oh…” Jenna replied with a vacant tone. “Sounds good.”

“Do you have any pictures in your wardrobe—“

“Why frijoles?” She added, interrupting Aliyah when she tried to spark another series of questions.

“Y/N heard it was one of your favourites, said she wanted to learn how to make it for you.” Mia replied, her tone smug.

“She did?” Jenna’s brow raised, still unable to look away from you.

“I think we lost her,” Aliyah sighed to Mia, giving up on having her questions answered.

Jenna rolled her eyes when her sisters burst into laughter, blinking back to reality. “Shut up. What were you saying?”

She forced herself to look away and give her undivided attention to her sisters. Pretending not to notice as you kept glancing at her from the kitchen.

—

“Wow this looks amazing, are you sure you helped, Y/N?” Aliyah teased from the dining table.

“Ha-ha, you’re hilarious.” You mocked, walking over with a bowl of guacamole, placing it at the centre of the table. “Wait ‘till you try my guac.”

“I always make the that.” Jenna trailed off, sneaking a peek at the bowl.

“I know.” You took your seat beside her. “Your mom showed me how you like to make it. I hope it’s close.”

“I think I’ll be the judge of that…” She reached for a chip and dipped a large chunk into the green goodness. You watched intently for a reaction but she gave you none; continuing to chew on.

“It’s good.” She finally says.

“That’s it?”

“What? I said it’s good.” Jenna laughed at your sullen expression; almost feeling bad. Once your bottom lip popped out in disappointment, she dropped her act, reaching for your arm and squeezing it. “I’m kidding. It’s great, it tastes exactly how I make it back home… but you know, you can’t beat the original.”

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head. “I think I’ll be the judge of that.” You repeated her words.

Before Jenna can reply with a quip, her mom walked over with the last bowl of food, disrupting your conversation. But it was all forgotten when the younger actress’ nose welcomed the familiar scent of all of her favourite dishes. She enthusiastically eyed the various dishes scattered on the table, not having had her family’s cooking in what felt like forever. Living with you wasn’t bad – actually, it’s been more than great, but you were serious when you said you lacked skills in the kitchen. That resulted in dinners mostly being take-out these days.

“Have you tried frijoles before?” Jenna asked you.

“Uh–no.” You blushed. “I actually didn’t even know they were beans until today.”

“You’ll love it.” She grinned, reaching over to plate you a generous helping. You refused to tell her that you didn’t necessarily love beans because her excited expression overpowered any dislike you had for the legume.

—

“You’re still up?” You called out after a brief glance, the pitter-patter of light footsteps coming down the hall, alerting you of her presence.

“Mhm, I heard the clanking of dishes from my room.” She replied, leaning against the counter, watching as you dried off the dishes one by one. “What’re you doing?”

“Sorry. I’ll keep it down.” You grimaced apologetically. “I couldn’t sleep so I figured I’d unload the dishes.”

“It’s okay, I’m actually not too tired too.” She stepped forward, only an arm’s length away from you. “Can I help?”

Wordlessly, you passed her a dry cloth and a bowl from the dishwasher. For a while, silence enveloped the room. You were grateful that you and the brunette can exist in silence, sometimes. Her mere presence provided a certain level of comfort that you’re still trying to get used to.

“So…” She spoke up after a few minutes, gaining your attention. “You’re really pulling out all the stops, huh.”

You raise an amused brow at the baiting look in her eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Jenna would’ve believed that statement if it weren’t for the small smile at the corner of your lips telling her otherwise.

“Right… so, you just pick up all your friends’ parents from the airport and do chores, willingly.”

“I’m turning over a new leaf.” You shrugged, continuing to wipe away remnants of water from the plate. Hoping the mundane action hid your trembling fingers well.

“Oh, are you?”

“Yup.”

“So this isn’t you trying to win me over?”

“Me try to win you over? Whaaat?” You puffed out an airy scoff, “that’s ridiculous. I would never. I wholeheartedly respect your decision.”

But the crinkle in your eyes told her that you were enjoying this way too much.

“Sure…” Jenna rolled her eyes, “even if you are just doing this out of the kindness of your own heart—“

“Which, I am.”

Jenna sends a playful glower at your interruption.

“Just wanted to put that on record.” You added.

“Thank you.” Jenna declared, her tone soft yet serious. “You’ve been incredible these last few days.”

“Oh.” You blink, a pleased smile plastered on your face. “You’re welcome, Jen. It’s no big deal.”

“It’s a big deal to me.” The bowl and cloth in her hands were long forgotten on the counter as she closed the distance between you. “No one’s ever done any of… this, for me—thank you.”

The air feels charged as she suddenly looks at you with that doe-eyed stare. Feeling like your heart rate instantly doubles, the longer she stares at you like that.

“What? Be nice?” You said evenly, “You need to set your standards higher.”

She huffed at your antics. “I’m being serious.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop.” you laughed shakily, trying to gather some semblance of control over your racing pulse. “Like I said, it’s not a big deal, Jen… cause I’d do anything for you.”

She blinked, voice caught in her throat she took in the serious glint in your eyes; voice dripping with conviction

“And this isn’t me trying to win you over. You’ll know when I do.”

The younger actress’ body feels like it’s on fire the longer she listens to your words.

“Uh, sorry, too much?” You said apologetically when she remained unspeaking.

But Jenna was already shaking her head, a faraway look in her eyes that you couldn’t quite decipher.

“No…” She murmured, her sight drifting down to your lips before they flicker back up to your eyes. “Not at all.”

“Okay…” Your gaze bore intently into hers, waiting to see if she’ll make the first move. “Good.”

For a brief moment, her eyes flicker back down for a second time but then she’s blinking out of her self-induced stupor, “um–I should go to sleep. I need to be up early.” Jenna hoped her ogling on your soft lips wasn’t too obvious.

She steps back and almost instantaneously, the tension in the room dissipates with each movement she takes.

You nod, smiling softly despite the slight tinge of disappointment you felt; knowing that you shouldn’t rush into this with her. “Good idea, you should rest your ankle… good night, Jenna.”

Just before you turned back to grab the discarded dry cloth, Jenna takes a hesitant step—before she can lose her nerve and leaned up to plant her lips on the pad of your cheek.

Your brain felt like it short-circuited; not having felt her lips in forever as your skin burned against the delicate contact.

“Good night, Y/N.” She whispered, her soft lips grazing your cheek in a way that drove you crazy.

Before your brain could rewire itself well enough to form a response, Jenna was already turning around to retreat back to her room.

Biting your lip to contain the growing smile, you couldn’t look away from her figure until she disappeared behind the door.

Shit…

You’re in deeper than you thought.

——

if there was any mistakes… look away (i tried my best 🧍‍♀️)

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#legally binded #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x you #wednesday netflix

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lovelookspretty · 1 month

Text

not so bad

college!rafe cameron x reader au

— in which rafe and y/n absolutely despise each other in public but crush in secret. rafe is failing his humanities class & is assigned y/n as his tutor . . . maybe all it took for this relationship to form was just a bit of forced proximity and some time.

warning(s): cuteness, lore, kisses

authors note: SORRY FOR THE LATE UPDATE but eeee we get a clear hint that y/n lived in figure 8 back home with rafe !! also in this au, rafe and y/n are aged down to 18-19 while everyone back home in obx are still 16

++ also sorry !! if u havent been added to the tag list yet ( even though uve asked ) its mostly been because i cant tag u. idk why tumblr isnt letting me but ill try to tag in comments for anyone who cant be tagged in my posts !!

rafe had agreed to join you at the dining hall for breakfast alone to talk about last night. you’ve felt guilty since you read his message, but at the same time the sight of rafe going upstairs with that girl has you upset. you’re conflicted. you barely got any sleep last night because of it.

“i miss the waffles i’d have back home,” rafe was telling you as the two of you enter the dining hall and head straight for the food. “now it’s just sad.”

you look over at the waffle station that’s accompanied by a line of students. it’s usually this way and you can tell he means he doesn’t eat waffles anymore because of it.

“is there usually not a line leading to breakfast cooked by the private chef in your abundance of a home?” you ask him, and you approach the bagels to toast one.

“jealous?” rafe puzzles, to which you raise your eyebrows at.

“never that,” you say with a shake of your head, and you lean against the counter.

once you’ve collected all that you want to eat, you lead rafe to an empty table. the hall is loud and active, but you do your best to find something in a corner where there’s the least amount of people. you set your food down before settling down simultaneously.

“sorry for telling you to get out last night,” you start with, and you watch as rafe prepares his food. “i didn’t see your text ‘til after you fell asleep so . . . just wanted to talk today and hear you out.”

“thanks,” rafe mutters as he grabs his cup of juice, taking a gulp of it before placing it back where it was. he leans forward, crossing his arms on top of the table. “i’m assuming you saw that girl.”

“right.”

“that was . . . someone i talked to when i first got here,” he tells you, using his hands slightly to explain himself. “i met a girl the first day i was moving into my dorm. we talked for maybe like . . . a week, and then classes started and i just found other hobbies.”

you pick at your eggs. “do you mean hookups?” you ask him, and without having to look at him, you can tell he’s grimacing.

“we never even made things official but i guess she was hoping that to happen. haven’t given her a single thought since the first day of school but she caught me at the party,” he continues, and you lean back in your chair. “honestly when she brought me upstairs she was just yelling at me the whole time. i don’t know if you heard—”

“the music was loud rafe, no one heard you, i’m sure,” you tell him.

he gives you a slight glare for interrupting him. “whatever. i told her what she was saying was bullshit and she got mad at me,” he says. “i thought i should’ve told you ‘cause i . . . i don’t know. enzo and lara know about her but you don’t. didn’t want you to think i was just gonna have sex with some random girl.”

“you can do what you want rafe, it’s not like it’s any of my business if you choose to do something like that,” you say. he stares at you in silence and it’s a little concerning. you can’t read the expression at all. “but thanks for telling me anyway.”

“yeah,” rafe murmurs as, just on time, lorenzo and elara approach the table once they find you two there. you send them a smile as they come over, but rafe is still staring at you, guilt still glinting in his eye, “anytime.”

“how does morrison explore the concept of memory and its effects on identity in ‘beloved’?” you read a question to one of your assignments out loud. you’re sitting in rafe and lorenzo’s dorm with the two boys, all spread out across the room.

with an uneasy look on his face, rafe scratches the back of his head, “i don’t fuckin’ know.”

“maybe we should take a break,” you suggest, to which the boys agree to immediately. you lift your ipad off your lap and settle it down on the spot on the floor beside you, and you lay down. “i could go for some . . . something to drink maybe.”

“café?” lorenzo asks and you hum in approval. he checks his phone for the time, “i could dr . . . oh shit. no, i have to meet up with lara like now. i can’t make it guys. sorry.”

he gets up to grab his bag, and you look over to rafe to see if he’s still okay with going. it’s only five. you doubt he has anything else planned today.

rafe gets up from his bed. “i’ll drive,” he volunteers.

“let me go change first,” you say as you grab your slippers and leave to your dorm since it’s cold out. “bye lorenzo!”

“bye y/n!” you hear him call from his dorm as you slip into yours, throwing on a hoodie and changing your bottoms to wear some sweats, then pull your sneakers on. you put your hair up before heading outside where rafe is already waiting.

he’s fiddling with his keys when he spots you, and he points behind him, “let’s go.”

you follow rafe out of the dorm building and to the parking lot to find his car. this is your first time being inside. you slide into the passengers seat quietly and put on your seatbelt. within moments, rafe backs up out of his spot and drives you two out of the lot.

“thank you,” rafe says to the cashier after your order is complete and paid for, thanks to rafe. you turn around and head for the first table you see, but rafe seems to find more interest at the table in the very back corner against the window. you have no choice but to follow him.

you settle down in the chair and pull your phone out of your pocket, just to check any and all texts from family. you look like a fool as you keep checking the message app and your lockscreen notification for something, anything. rafe can tell you’re just trying to fill the void.

“remember that time when we were kids and they were hosting that charity gala,” rafe begins to recall, and your gaze slowly falls on him. “there was that ballroom dance and our parents paired us up.”

“you stepped on my foot,” you remind him.

“you were so serious trying to dance while hobbling around on one foot,” he returns, and the memory of 6-year-old you makes you smile softly. “the step was an accident by the way. i didn’t know my lefts from my rights . . . or— or remember the school play we did in 5th grade? where i was the prince and you wore a dress?”

you deadpan. “‘cause i was the princess,” you say, then shake your head. “i remember you forgot your line and i had to tell you what it was.”

“i thought you were so annoying for that,” rafe’s words causes you to laugh, and he grinned from ear to ear. “like i told my sister how much of a know-it-all you were. you showed me up in our play.”

“i remember summer camp,” you add on to the list of memories.

for a moment rafe has to think about it. “what?” he says, a little confused. “when?”

“the first year we went,” you say like it’s obvious. “the tug-of-war had me on edge for months.”

“oh!” rafe laughs when he realizes what you’re talking about. “yeah you were talking all that shit, then you guys lost and you accused us of cheating.”

“‘cause you probably were,” you play along with the bit that you’re still mad, and thankfully rafe sees right through it because he laughs again. “i couldn’t stand even looking at you after that ‘cause i felt so humiliated.”

he shrugs, “don’t hate the player, hate the game.”

“shut up,” you say, kicking at his leg gently. he only smiles as his name gets called out at the front. you get up and follow rafe to the counter where he checks for both of your drinks, handing you yours, and then grabbing two straws.

rafe bites the paper open and pulls the straw out of it, then sticks it in his cup. “come on, i got something to show you,” he says with a wink, and he leads you outside quickly.

after driving just ten minutes and damn near finishing both of your drinks in the process, rafe leads you out to stairs that lead down.

from the car already, you can see a bunch of string fairy lights that go from tree to tree. it leads down a path to walk on but on one of the sides, past the concrete shoulder of the sidewalk there’s the ocean.

it’s getting darker and the blues from the sky and water just look so perfect.

“it’s beautiful out here,” you say with furrowed brows, surprised that you’ve never seen this before. “we’re just ten minutes from campus?”

“that’s what i said,” rafe agrees with you, and you laugh as you lean into him for a moment. your gaze falls upon the few people walking in either direction down the path, most are families though. you can’t help but think of yours.

you’re hoping to plan a day where your family comes down here though. it’s been in the works. so far it’s just been facetimes when everyone’s free but seeing them would feel so nice. they would love a place like this too, you’re sure of.

rafe has bitten down on his straw but he’s looking forward around the area as the two of you walk. “i spy with my little eye . . .” he trails off, and before he continues, you erupt in a laugh. “something green.”

your smile fades when he says this. that’s the worst color he could’ve picked for this game.

“oh, i wonder,” you say, sarcasm laced through your voice as you look around, pretending to think about it. “the grass. the trees. my drink.”

“you can’t go three times,” he tells you before you guess your fourth. you continue to walk beside him, taking in the fresh air. “it was your drink.”

“who could’ve guessed?”

“can you just shut up?”

soon it’s been an hour of roaming the city, with the both of you giggling and exploring your new home some more. you’re sitting on a park bench staring at the water when you and rafe walk all the way back to where you were before.

you’ve leaned your head against his shoulder as you chew on your straw, even though you’ve already finished your drink.

“did you and enzo meet just from being roommates?” you ask him after a bit of silence, and you lay your head on him a different way to look at him a bit. or try to. all you can see is his jaw and cheek. “is that how you met lara?”

he thinks about it for a moment. “yeah that’s how we met. i didn’t even wanna have a roommate but you know . . . and enzo’s a great guy. he’s never really left my side even when i told him to go away. he met lara at some party in august or something.”

“that’s cute,” you mumble, lowering your head to position it where it was before, and you stare at the water. “they’re really cute. when i met enzo it was like i couldn’t even tell he had a girl like that. but when i met lara for the first time it all just made sense.”

“they’re each others best friends,” he confirms, and it brings a smile on your face as you pull your straw away and gaze down at it. “do you miss home?”

“like every day,” you answer honestly. “every second of every hour of every day, probably ‘til i graduate and probably ‘til i die.”

“you’re not moving back home after college?” rafe asks you, and you shrug.

“was never really in my books to go back home. after i committed to this university i just assumed i’d . . . i don’t know, find a home here,” you say. “your sisters were pretty cool though.”

“you’re too old to be sarah or wheezie’s friend,” rafe says with a light scoff.

you scoff back and sit up, looking at him. “you’re friends with people like topper,” you tell him since he can’t be the one to talk. “isn’t he sarah’s age?”

“please,” rafe mutters as he averts his gaze elsewhere, “he was always just trying to get in my good graces ‘cause he likes her. or loves her. whatever.”

“they’re dating now, no?”

“before,” he says. “think she’s with that pogue now. john b.”

“pogue,” you repeat, scrunching your nose. “you can’t use that word anymore. we aren’t back home.”

“it describes him perfectly,” he says in an ‘as a matter of fact’ tone, before murmuring under his breath, “among other things.”

“they’re just kids. leave them be,” you say, and you lay back down to lean your head on his shoulder again, getting comfortable. “i’m really glad you got accepted into the same college as me, rafe.”

these words come in just a bit above a whisper, though he hears you perfectly, and it comes to a bit of a shock for him. he looks down at you quietly, before carefully moving his arm that has been resting on top of the bench to pull you in for a hug.

“me too,” he mumbles.

you get up again and lock eyes with the boy immediately. you can see him underneath the lamp post lights perfectly, just at the right darkness but just at the right brightness.

your gaze flickers down to his lips and back up to his eyes. out of impulse, you consider what feels like the craziest decision to make in that moment and lean in, but what surprises you is rafe takes advantage of the opportunity.

his hand comes up to hold the side of your face as he pulls you in, and your lips press together. it’s not a soft kiss, it’s not a gentle kiss. it’s a desperate, hungry kiss filled with all the emotions he’s been holding back.

you’re kissing like you’ve been starved of oxygen and the other is the only one who can provide it. his lips move urgently against yours, his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you closer. he doesn’t care about anything else in the world at this moment, just you and this kiss.

when rafe pulls his head back to see your eyes, he feels like he fucked up. he stares right at you, and your thoughts seem to be going behind his eyes. he starts to pull away, about to apologize, “fuck, sorry y/n, i didn’t—”

“just shut up,” you murmur before grabbing his collar and pulling him back in for another kiss. he moans softly when you do, his hands gripping your waist tighter. he loves the feeling of your lips against his, it’s almost unbearable.

his second kiss is just as desperate as the first, but this time he tries to slow it down a bit. he breaks the kiss to catch his breath, his forehead pressed against yours as he looks into your eyes. “y/n . . .” he begins, his voice shaky. “you have no idea long how i’ve been wanting to do that.”

“kept me waiting long enough,” you say as you stare deep into his eyes with a soft smile, and rafe shakes his head as he grabs your jaw and guides you to his lips again.

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