#to be but now I figured it out) had a little breakfast between then and then zonked the fuck out

[cottonlemonade]

He Realizes He Has A Crush

word count: 1539 || avg. reading time: 7 mins.

pairing: University AU!Sakusa x chubby!Reader

genre: fluff

warnings: none

request: congrats!! for breakfast Im gonna grab a 12 then study with kiyoomi :) || fluffy, project partners with crush, Sakusa

Snow was not so bad. Snow you could have dealt with. Sideways gusts of icy cold sleet that slipped between the tiny gaps in your scarf and hair to trickle down your collar were unacceptable. You shivered and cursed the wind that stopped you from using your umbrella as a shield as you waited, frozen to the core, for the bus to arrive. The day just kept getting worse - and you didn’t want to go in the first place! Sakusa intimidated you. He was always in the top ranks of any exam, indifferent to most people he met and dubbed as quite the loner, but nonetheless carried himself with the quiet confidence of someone who knew how to spell entrepreneur and charcuterie. You guessed he couldn’t have been happy when he was paired with you for the semester’s most important project.

With slumped shoulders, you trudged onto the bus. It was mercifully warm, but the ride was too short to make any headway in drying your clothes, so when you arrived at the tall, imposing apartment building Sakusa had told you to come to, your drenched shoes had you slip a few times on the clean marble tiles of the lobby. The squeaking and squelching of your steps echoed in your ears as you hurried to catch the elevator.

“What happened to you?”, Sakusa asked with his usual frown as soon as he opened the door. It took you a moment to realize what was different about him. He wasn’t wearing his mask. Huh. So that scowl really did stretch all the way over his face. He watched with his arms crossed as you took off your shoes. Your socks were two different shades from the water that had pooled at the soles, and he noted the wet footprints you left behind. “Didn’t you pack an umbrella?”

“I did, but the wind was too strong.”

“Hm.”

He didn’t step aside.

“Are you really not gonna let me in?”, your voice was higher and more annoyed than you would have liked, but you were very cold and very wet and would’ve loved to get this over with as quickly as possible.

“There is a bathroom down the hall.”, he nodded to his right.

“Great.”

“Go take a hot shower, you must be freezing.”

You looked at him with stunned silence. In the meantime, Sakusa tilted his head and scanned you from head to foot.

“I��ll find you something dry to wear. Extra towels are in the cabinet under the sink.”

He walked off, leaving you to question if you heard him correctly.

The bathroom was smaller than you expected it to be in such a home. Peeling out of your wet shirt and pants, you looked around. Above the sink was a large mirror and a shelf lined with products, all of which from designer brands you’d only ever seen on pages of magazines. You examined the tubes and tubs a little closer and noticed that they were all men’s. Only one towel was draped on the warming rack next to the shower, just like only one black bathrobe hung on a hook behind the door, and only one fancy electric toothbrush was plugged in by the sink. To test your budding theory, you picked up the bottle of high-end cologne and gave it a quick sniff. Either all men of this family wore the same scent or… you were in Sakusa’s personal bathroom. It took you a solid minute to debate whether or not to put your cold wet underwear on the towel warmer while you showered, but in the end, you decided what the eye does not see, the heart doesn’t grieve over and moved his towel aside to make space.

Sakusa meanwhile carefully sifted through his closet. It was no use checking his sister’s rooms. They both had rather wispy figures, and even their looser clothes were highly unlikely to fit you. Turning a pair of black socks in his fingers, he now had to realize that his shirts and sweaters weren’t any different. He didn’t want to make you uncomfortable by having to tell him whatever he picked was too small. And so without further hesitation, Sakusa went into his older brother’s room, stepped over the clutter on the floor, and slid open the wardrobe. His brother was a boxer and built like a tree, so something in here should be big enough for you. Underneath a pile of numerous identical compression shirts, he found a slightly wrinkled, washed-out varsity hoodie and after a little more digging added some gray sweats. Refolding everything neatly and stacking them on top of one another, he brought it to the bathroom and knocked. While the clothes were pushed through the hand-width opening in the door, he told you that he would make some tea and wait in the living room.

Happy shuffles made him lower the book in his hand about 15 minutes later and with an inner pat on his back, he congratulated himself for picking something comfortable for you. A fluffy white towel was wrapped around your head, and you wiggled out of the monogrammed family slippers before settling down on the floor in front of the couch. He cocked a curious brow, wondering if he should slide down to sit next to you or not, but his social awkwardness was interrupted by your blissful sigh.

“Thank you.” You turned around to him with a bright smile and instead of leading on that it temporarily made his train of thought do an emergency break, Sakusa frowned and nodded towards your backpack.

“Oh, right!”

You pulled out your book, notepad, and a pen and flipped to the relevant chapter.

Originally, he suggested his home because, around exam time, the library was filled with the kind of last-minute desperate air of people who had no idea how to prepare and study throughout the semester. Focusing in that atmosphere would be impossible. Little did he know that watching you read, mouthing silently along with the words on the page and the marks left by your lip balm on the teacup was more distracting than anything the library could have thrown at him.

When you untied the towel from your hair, he studied with great interest how you gave it some additional squeezes to dry. You looked so at home sipping on your tea and studying at the coffee table, all bundled up in comfy clothes. He became increasingly aware - and bothered by the fact - that these were his brother’s. Maybe he did have something that would fit you somewhere in his room. Sakusa vaguely shook his head. It would be absurd to ask you to change, especially with no concrete reasoning or alternative readily available.

You could feel him staring. Nervously, you chewed your lips and, without meaning to, kept running your tongue over them. They still tasted like the almond-sugar lip scrub from his shower caddy you hadn’t been able to resist. Undoubtedly he had noticed and was thinking of ways to reprimand you for what was effectively theft! But in the end, you only used a little bit of it. He shouldn’t be mad about it! Maybe it wasn’t about the lip scrub at all, actually. Maybe he was annoyed because you were here in the first place. In his home. Everyone on campus knew how much he valued his personal space, but it wasn’t like you asked to be put on the project with him.

You’d been here less than an hour, and he hardly said more than a dozen words to you since you sat down. Did he already feel like you overstayed your welcome?

When you couldn’t take the silent tension anymore, you asked, “What?”

“What?”

“You’re staring.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You hungry?”

“I- am- what?”

“It’s almost dinner time, and we still have a lot of work to do. I’m guessing you haven’t eaten yet so I’ll order something. Is sushi okay with you?”

You sat back, resting your shoulders against the couch, and crossed your arms.

“Sakusa.”

“Hm?” He looked up from his phone when you turned around, talking more to the sofa cushion than him, in fear of what level of disgust or judgment you’d be met with.

“Why are you suddenly so nice to me?”

He placed the book from his lap on the coffee table and slid down to sit next to you on the floor. His dark eyes found yours and the usual frown appeared on his face.

“Am I usually not nice to you?”

You squinted and clicked your tongue, then hummed in thought, “Uhm… if you ever were, then it was never out loud.”

He studied you for a moment, before unceremoniously saying, “You smell nice.”

You furrowed your brow with a mixture of confusion and pity, “I smell like your shower gel.”

“Well… then I have good taste.”

You couldn’t help but snort and used this opportunity to come clean.

“I used your shampoo, too.”

He nodded. “I figured.”

“And your lip scrub.”

“I see.”

“It’s really good.”

“I know.”

“It’s sold out everywhere, I was just curious.”

“You can keep it.”, he shrugged.

“Really?”

“Yeah, you touched it now.”

“Rude.”

He chuckled. “So, dinner?”

a/n: request for @act-nat-ural I’m so sorry it took so long. I hope you enjoyed it 🌟

[woso-story]

Sick Day

Ingrid Engen x Mapi Leon x Mila

The soft morning light filtered through the curtains, painting the bedroom walls in warm hues. Mapi lay on her side, her head heavy with sleep and her body still exhausted. Beside her, Ingrid was curled up under the covers, her breathing soft but uneven. The house was unusually silent, as though holding its breath for what the day might bring.

Mapi stared at her wife, her chest tightening with a mix of tenderness and disbelief. Years ago, if someone had told her she’d be here—married, a mother, and sharing her life with someone as remarkable as Ingrid—she would have laughed. The idea seemed impossible back then, like a dream too far-fetched to even consider. She had been so focused on football, on carving out her place in the world, that she didn’t think she had room for this kind of love.

But now? Now she couldn’t imagine her life any other way.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a soft cough. She turned her attention to Ingrid, whose eyes fluttered open briefly as she brought a hand to her mouth. The cough rattled in her chest, and Mapi immediately reached for the glass of water on the bedside table, handing it to her.

“Gracias,” Ingrid murmured, her voice scratchy and faint. She took a few sips before sinking back into the pillows, her pale face marked by a faint flush.

Mapi frowned, leaning closer. Ingrid’s eyes were heavy-lidded, her skin slightly clammy. It didn’t take long for Mapi to realize that her wife wasn’t just tired—she was sick.

“Are you feeling okay?” Mapi asked softly, brushing a stray strand of hair from Ingrid’s forehead.

Ingrid gave a weak smile. “Just a cold, I think. I’ll be fine.”

Before Mapi could press further, the door creaked open, and a tiny figure appeared in the doorway. Mila, their four-year-old daughter, stood there clutching her stuffed lion, her face flushed and her eyes glassy.

“Mami,” Mila said in a small voice, her lower lip trembling.

Mapi’s heart sank. “Oh, no, not you too,” she murmured, sliding out of bed to scoop Mila up into her arms. The little girl leaned into her, her small body radiating heat.

“What’s wrong, princesa?” Mapi asked, her voice full of concern.

Mila sniffled, burying her face in Mapi’s shoulder. “I don’t feel good,” she mumbled.

Mapi kissed the top of her daughter’s head, her mind already racing. Both her girls, sick at the same time—it was going to be a long day. She carried Mila over to the bed and gently settled her between herself and Ingrid.

Ingrid, despite her own fatigue, opened her arms, and Mila immediately curled into her. “Poor thing,” Ingrid murmured, kissing Mila’s forehead.

“Both of you stay here,” Mapi said, pulling the blankets up around them. “I’ll be right back.”

She left the room quietly, heading to the kitchen. The house felt eerily still without Mila’s usual chatter or the soft hum of Ingrid moving about. Bagheera padded into the kitchen, her green eyes watching Mapi expectantly.

“Morning, Bagheera,” Mapi said, bending down to fill the cat’s bowl. Bagheera rubbed against her leg before diving into her breakfast.

Mapi quickly gathered what she needed—a tray of fruit, some toast, medicine, and a fresh glass of water. She balanced everything carefully as she headed back to the bedroom. Bagheera followed, her tail swishing behind her.

When Mapi entered the room, she found Mila half-asleep in Ingrid’s arms, her tiny fingers clutching her lion tightly. Bagheera leapt onto the bed and settled beside Mila, curling up protectively.

“Breakfast,” Mapi announced softly, setting the tray on the bedside table.

Both Ingrid and Mila groaned at the sight of the medicine, but Mapi gave them a look that left no room for argument. “Medicine first,” she said firmly. “Then you can eat.”

Once the medicine was down, the girls nibbled on the fruit and toast before falling asleep again, their matching expressions of exhaustion tugging at Mapi’s heart. She tucked the blankets around them, pressing a kiss to each of their foreheads before slipping out of the room.

The rest of the morning passed quietly. Mapi busied herself with small tasks around the house—folding laundry, washing dishes, and tidying up the living room. Every so often, she peeked into the bedroom to check on her girls, smiling softly at the sight of them curled up together with Bagheera nearby.

---

By mid-afternoon, Mapi found herself on the couch with her sketchpad. She had been working on new tattoo ideas for weeks, but between training and family life, there was little time to focus. Today, though, the quiet house gave her the space she needed. She was deep in concentration when a small voice broke through her thoughts.

“Mami.”

Mapi looked up to see Mila standing in front of her, clutching her lion. The little girl’s cheeks were still pink, but her eyes were brighter, and her steps were steadier.

“Hey, princesa,” Mapi said, setting her sketchpad aside. “How are you feeling?”

Mila climbed onto Mapi’s lap without answering, resting her head on her mother’s shoulder. “Better,” she murmured.

Mapi wrapped her arms around her daughter, holding her close. “That’s good, cariño. Let’s not push it, though, okay?”

Mila nodded, her small fingers playing with the edge of Mapi’s shirt. They sat like that for a while, the quiet hum of the house wrapping around them like a warm blanket.

---

As evening fell, Mapi carried Mila to her room, tucking her into bed with her lion and Bagheera for company. “If you need anything, you come to the big bed, okay?” Mapi said, brushing Mila’s hair back from her face.

“Okay, Mami,” Mila murmured, her eyelids already drooping.

Satisfied, Mapi returned to the bedroom, where Ingrid was awake, propped up on pillows. She looked better—her cheeks had more color, and her eyes were clearer.

“How are you feeling?” Mapi asked as she climbed into bed beside her.

“Much better,” Ingrid replied, her voice still soft but steadier. She reached over to take Mapi’s hand, her thumb brushing gently over her knuckles. “Thank you for today. You’ve been amazing.”

Mapi shrugged, though her cheeks flushed at the praise. “I just want my girls to be okay.”

Ingrid smiled, leaning over to kiss Mapi’s shoulder. “You take such good care of us. We’re lucky to have you.”

Mapi felt her chest tighten with emotion. She squeezed Ingrid’s hand, her voice soft as she replied, “I’m the lucky one.”

As they settled under the covers, the weight of the day began to fade. Mapi’s heart swelled with gratitude—for her family, for their love, and for the quiet moments like this that made everything worthwhile.

Tomorrow, the sun would rise on a new day, and her girls would feel even better. For now, she drifted off to sleep with Ingrid’s hand in hers, the sound of Mila’s soft breathing from the next room a comforting reminder of the life she had built and the love she cherished.

[s4svnn]

Out of bounds . JJK

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; his love subjected you to the true extent of deception, a merciless lie wrapped in the illusion of paradise, until the truth tore it apart - he was always out of bounds.

↳ Jungkook x reader

↳ 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬: ongoing

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

Chapter Twenty Nine

The morning sunlight poured gently into the room, casting soft, golden rays across the floor as I slowly woke up. A warm, contented smile tugged at my lips as I stretched, the peaceful feeling settling deeper into me with each passing second. My mind immediately drifted back to the night before—the conversation with my mom, the understanding we had reached, and the quiet sense of reconciliation that lingered in the air.

I felt a weight lift from my chest, and for the first time in so long, I realized that the tension between us had been replaced with something lighter, something warmer. The storm had passed, and now there was room for a new kind of peace to grow between us. It was as if we had finally broken down the walls that had been standing between us for years, and the air in the house felt clearer, fresher—like the sun breaking through after a long, cold night.

I lay there for a few moments, eyes closed, savoring the calm. It wasn’t just the relief from last night’s conversation that made me smile—it was the quiet certainty that I was starting to figure things out. The future, though uncertain, didn’t seem so intimidating anymore. I could feel the change in myself. I was ready to move forward. I was ready to do something for myself.

Finally, I pushed the covers back and swung my legs off the side of the bed, the coolness of the floor surprising against the warmth of the blankets. The house was still quiet, with only the soft sounds of my mom moving about downstairs. She was already awake, probably getting ready for her usual routine, but it was too early for much else to be happening. I made my way into the bathroom, splashing cold water on my face, the shock of it waking me up fully. I stared at my reflection for a moment—my hair a little messy, eyes still holding traces of sleep—but I didn’t mind. I felt different. Stronger, even. It was as if something inside me had shifted, and I was finally seeing myself with a new perspective.

I took a few minutes to freshen up, brushing my teeth and running a brush through my hair before pulling on a simple, comfortable outfit—nothing flashy, just something that would keep me at ease as I took on the day. Today was my first day at the café, and despite the nervous flutter in my stomach, there was excitement buried beneath it. I wasn’t entirely sure what to expect, but I knew I needed this. I wasn’t just looking for a paycheck—I was looking for a way to prove to myself that I could step out of my comfort zone and start something new. I wanted to take control of my own story, and this job, small as it might seem, felt like the perfect place to start.

As I made my way downstairs, I could already smell the comforting scent of breakfast—eggs, toast, the usual morning routine. The house felt calm and warm, and I could hear my mom moving around in the kitchen, the familiar sound of plates clinking against each other. When I entered the kitchen, I was greeted by the sight of her standing at the stove, flipping pancakes. She looked up and smiled warmly, as if she was already proud of me, even though we hadn’t said much about it yet.

“Morning,” I said, my voice still a little thick with sleep but carrying a newfound energy beneath it. I walked over to the table and sat down, feeling a mixture of nervousness and anticipation twist in my stomach.

“Good morning, honey,” she said, setting a plate of scrambled eggs and toast in front of me. “How’d you sleep?”

I took a deep breath, the weight of the previous day’s emotions still lingering but now paired with a sense of quiet optimism. “I slept okay,” I replied, my voice steadying. “Better than I expected, actually.”

My mom gave me a knowing look, and then, with a gentle smile, she said, “I’m proud of you, you know? For taking this step. It’s not easy, but it’s a good start.”

I smiled back, feeling a lump form in my throat. After everything, hearing her say that meant more than I had expected. It was like the reassurance I didn’t know I needed.

Before I could respond, the sound of the door opening caught my attention. Kayla’s voice, cheerful and teasing as ever, drifted into the room. “So, are you ready for your first day?” She leaned casually against the doorframe of the kitchen, a cup of coffee in hand, a playful grin stretched across her face. She was already dressed and ready to go, her energy a sharp contrast to the nervous energy running through me.

I chuckled, shaking my head. “I think so,” I said, though my voice cracked a little as the nerves crept up again. “I mean, I’m nervous, but... I’m ready.”

Kayla stepped into the room, walking over to where I sat at the table, and handed me the coffee cup she had been holding. “Here,” she said with a wink. “This should help you get started.”

I took the cup from her, the warmth of it grounding me as I sipped. It was exactly what I needed. “Thanks,” I said, feeling the slight jitters in my hands as I tried to steady them around the cup. “I’m just... I don’t know. Nervous about it all.”

Kayla smiled, her eyes full of encouragement. “AJ, you’re going to be great.One step at a time, right? It’s just a coffee shop, but it’s a step forward so you’re on the right path.”

Her words hit me differently today. It wasn’t just the usual pep talk. There was something in the way she said it, the absolute certainty in her voice, that made me feel like maybe, just maybe, I could do this. I could start something new, even if it was small. The first step was always the hardest, but once I took it, I could take on whatever came next.

I looked at her, feeling a sudden rush of gratitude for everything she had been to me. “Thanks, Kayla,” I said softly. “I think I needed to hear that.”

Kayla gave me a thumbs-up and leaned against the counter. “You don’t even have to thank me. I’m just here for the ride. But seriously, you’ve got this.”

At that moment, my mom spoke up from the stove, her voice gentle but firm. “I’m really proud of you, sweetheart. I know this is a big step, but I have no doubt you’ll do great.”

I felt my heart swell at her words. She’d always been there, even when things were hard between us, and hearing her say that meant more than I could put into words.

“Well, go on then,” my mom encouraged, nudging me gently toward the door. “Your first day won’t wait forever.”

I glanced at Kayla, who gave me an encouraging thumbs-up. The nerves were still there, but so was something else—a quiet strength, a certainty that I wasn’t walking this path alone. With my mom’s support and Kayla by my side, I felt ready for whatever came next.

“Okay,” I said, a smile tugging at my lips. “Let’s do this.”

Kayla dropped me off at the corner of the street, giving me a bright, encouraging smile before driving off to her own job. I stood for a moment, watching her car disappear around the corner, and then took a deep breath, trying to calm the nerves that had returned full force. It was one thing to get the job, but it was another to actually show up. I adjusted the straps of my bag on my shoulder and made my way down the street, the sound of my footsteps quiet against the pavement.

As I reached the café, I could already feel the change in the air. The moment I stepped inside, I was greeted by the soft, welcoming warmth of the place. The café was a cozy little haven tucked away from the busy street, bathed in soft, natural light that filtered through large windows. The walls were a calming pastel pink, with delicate gold accents that gave the space a touch of elegance without feeling too fancy. The furniture was mismatched but in the most charming way—light wooden tables paired with plush chairs in various shades of mint green, soft lavender, and pale blue. There were plants hanging from the ceiling, trailing vines, and little potted flowers scattered on every table. It felt like a place where time slowed down, where you could sit and enjoy the simple pleasure of a cup of coffee without a care in the world.

I stood at the entrance for a moment, completely lost in the beauty of it all. It was the kind of place that looked like it belonged in a dream, the kind of place I had imagined working in, even though I never really thought it would happen. The pastel pink walls made everything feel warm, inviting, and, somehow, peaceful. My eyes swept across the room, taking in every little detail, from the vintage coffee machine sitting proudly on the counter to the chalkboard menu listing an array of delicious drinks and pastries. I could already picture myself here, surrounded by the sweet scent of freshly brewed coffee and the soft hum of quiet conversations.

I spun around in a slow circle, trying to take it all in at once, a small grin forming on my lips. This was it. This was the start of something new. I could feel a sense of pride swelling in my chest, mixed with the last of my nerves. I was finally here, doing something for myself.

But before I could fully process the moment, I was snapped out of my daze by a voice that cut through the air like a knife.

“So, you’re the new girl?”

The voice cut through the soft hum of the café, low and edged with something unreadable. I turned sharply, pulled from my quiet awe at the space around me, and found myself locking eyes with a man who looked nothing like what I’d expected.

He was leaning against the counter with the kind of effortless confidence that only certain people could pull off—like he belonged there but didn’t have to try. His tanned skin was decorated with tattoos that wrapped around his neck and stretched onto his right hand, barely visible under the sleeves of his dark t-shirt. Messy black curls framed his sharp, striking features, and behind black glasses with thin gold rims, his eyes were the most piercing shade of blue I’d ever seen—intense, observant, as if they could see right through me. A silver lip ring caught the light as he smirked, and his fingers—adorned with multiple rings, each one different from the next—tapped lazily against the countertop.

There was something about him that immediately put me on edge. I straightened my posture and adjusted the strap of my bag, willing myself not to let my nerves show. “Yeah,” I said, keeping my voice even. “Nice to meet you. I’m AJ.”

His smirk barely shifted, but there was something amused in the way his lips twitched. “Pretty sure the application said Aylah.”

I felt my stomach tighten at the use of my full name, the familiarity of it making me bristle. I forced myself to keep my expression neutral. “I prefer to go by AJ,” I said, my tone firm but controlled, making it clear that this wasn’t up for debate.

He tilted his head slightly, studying me in a way that made my skin prickle. Then, without missing a beat, he said, “That attitude isn’t going to get you anywhere here.”

I blinked, momentarily taken aback by the bluntness of his words. Was he serious? My jaw tightened slightly, and I exhaled through my nose, forcing down the immediate urge to snap back. Instead, I offered a sharp, unimpressed smile. “And what exactly is your attitude supposed to get you?” I shot back. “Because so far, I’m not impressed.”

His smirk widened just enough for me to know I’d given him the reaction he wanted. “You’re quick,” he murmured, almost to himself. He leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest, the movement slow and deliberate. His gaze never left mine, and for a moment, the space between us felt charged, like we were waiting to see who would push harder.

I wasn’t in the mood for games. I had already been through too much to waste my time with whatever this was. “Look,” I said, voice firm with growing impatience. “I don’t have time to waste. Where’s the boss?”

For a second, something unreadable flickered across his face. Then, as if I had just said something amusing, he let out a low chuckle, shaking his head slightly. “I doubt he’d want to welcome a brat onto our team.”

I felt my temper flare before I could stop it. My fingers clenched slightly around the strap of my bag, and I gave him a glare. “Excuse me?”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unfazed by my reaction. “What? You've never been told you’re a brat before?”

The sheer arrogance in his voice made something snap inside me,“Oh you’re just so charming,” I said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “It’s a wonder anyone can stand to be around you.”

His response was nothing more than a quiet chuckle. He just leaned back against the counter even more, watching me with a kind of smug amusement that only made me want to wipe the look off his face.

I clenched my jaw, tired of whatever game he was playing. “Are you gonna tell me where the boss is or are you just here to waste my time?”

There was a pause. Then, slowly, he lifted his hands in mock surrender. “Fine,” he drawled lazily. “You win.”

I blinked, momentarily thrown by his sudden shift. “What?”

He pushed off the counter and straightened up, his sharp blue eyes never leaving mine as he crossed his arms again. “Welcome to the team,” he said, his voice now calm and steady, but still carrying that undeniable edge. “I’m your boss. Adam.”

For a moment, I didn’t react. The words didn’t register right away, or maybe I just didn’t want to register them. My boss? This guy? The same guy who had been pushing every single one of my buttons since I walked through the door?

I stared at him, trying to process the revelation, but all I could hear was the way he had said it—Welcome to the team.

My stomach twisted uncomfortably. Those words… I had heard them before. Not too long ago. Not from him, but from someone else. Someone I had no intention of remembering

Clearing my throat, I straightened my shoulders and met Adam’s gaze head-on, ignoring the way my pulse felt uneven. “You’re my new boss?” I said, forcing my voice to stay steady. 

Adam just smirked, clearly enjoying my surprise. “That a problem?”

I exhaled sharply, regaining my composure. “Nope,” I said, forcing a smirk of my own. “Just wasn’t expecting the boss of a pink cafe to look like that.”

Adam let out a slow, amused chuckle, shaking his head slightly. “Like what?” he asked, tilting his head just enough for a few loose curls to fall over his forehead.

I gestured vaguely at him, my gaze trailing over the tattoos peeking out from his collar, the rings on his fingers, the sharp contrast between his dark clothing and the soft pastel pink of the cafe around us. “Like you belong in a tattoo parlor or a biker club, not running a place that sells oat milk lattes and lavender scones.”

His smirk didn’t falter. If anything, it deepened. “You think people can’t like both?” he asked, slipping his hands into the pockets of his black jeans as he studied me.

I shrugged. “I just think it’s unexpected.”

He let out a quiet hum, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. “Funny. I was thinking the same thing about you.”

I frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Adam leaned against the counter again, the warm café lighting casting soft shadows across his sharp features. “Just saying,” he mused, tilting his head, “you don’t exactly look like the type to want to work in a place like this either.”

I scoffed, crossing my arms. “Oh really? Then what do I look like?”

His gaze flickered over me, not in a way that felt invasive, but in a way that made it clear he was assessing me, picking me apart. “Like someone who doesn’t take orders well,” he finally said, voice smooth, edged with a quiet amusement.

I huffed out a sharp laugh. “That’s rich coming from someone who clearly enjoys bossing people around.”

“Gotta admit,” he said, pushing off the counter with an easy stretch, “it’s fun when they have a little bite to them.”

I rolled my eyes. “Great. Glad I can provide your daily entertainment.”

Adam smirked. “Hopefully it’ll be a lot more than just that AJ.”

Something in his tone made my stomach tighten slightly—not in a bad way, but in a way that I didn’t want to acknowledge. I straightened my posture, trying to push down the weird flutter in my chest. “Right. Well, as fun as this little back-and-forth has been, I’d actually like to start working now,” I said, shifting my weight onto one foot. “Unless you just hired me so you’d have someone to annoy all day.”

His smirk didn’t waver as he watched me, clearly amused by my irritation. “Trust me, you wouldn’t be here if I didn’t think you could handle it.”

There was something about the way he said it—something that made the air feel heavier between us for a split second. But before I could dwell on it, he pushed off the counter and gestured toward the back of the café.

“Come on, brat,” he said, already walking away. “Let’s see if you can actually keep up.”

I clenched my jaw at the nickname but followed him anyway, ignoring the way my heart kicked up just a little.

This was going to be interesting.

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

Jungkook’s POV:

The afterparty was a kaleidoscope of flashing neon lights, pulsating basslines, and the intoxicating aroma of top-shelf liquor. The air was thick with celebration, an electrified current of energy rippling through the exclusive Monaco nightclub. The city was never known for its silence, but tonight, it throbbed with an almost feverish intensity—one ignited by his victory and fueled by the endless supply of luxury.

Inside the opulent venue, excess dripped from every corner. Champagne fountains flowed endlessly, crystal flutes clinking in effortless rhythm with the pounding music. Models with impossibly long legs and diamond-studded wrists draped themselves over the shoulders of billionaires, their laughter like silk against the thunderous beat.

The scent of expensive perfume—heady and sweet—mingled with the faint traces of burning rubber that still clung to the night air, a lingering souvenir from the race. A massive LED screen loomed over the crowd, broadcasting slow-motion highlights of his masterful performance on the track. There he was—Jeon Jungkook—carving through the winding streets of Monte Carlo with surgical precision, his sleek machine devouring each turn as if the circuit had been designed solely for him.

Then came the voice of the DJ, amplified and drenched in artificial reverb, riding the waves of the bass-heavy music.

“Ladies and gentlemen, make some noise for your 2025 Monaco Grand Prix champion—JEON JUNGKOOK!”

The announcement was met with a deafening roar. The room exploded into wild applause, a blinding storm of flashing cameras, raised glasses, and enthusiastic voices chanting his name. The adrenaline from the race had barely faded, yet here he was, drowning in the euphoric aftermath of victory. Hands clapped against his back in rapid succession, warm with congratulations and intoxicated admiration. Someone from his pit crew—a familiar face blurred by the haze of celebration—grabbed his shoulder, urging him into another toast.

Jungkook exhaled sharply, forcing a smirk onto his lips as he lifted his glass. He played the part effortlessly—the untouchable champion, the golden boy of the racing world, the man standing at the pinnacle of a sport built on speed and ambition. Tilting his head back, he swallowed a mouthful of the amber liquid, the whiskey igniting a slow burn down his throat, settling deep in his chest. The heat was familiar, grounding.

This was the dream, wasn’t it? The pinnacle of everything he had bled for—glory, fame, and the unwavering adoration of the masses. This was the kind of legacy racers destroyed themselves chasing.

So why did it feel so damn hollow?

He sank into one of the plush velvet couches lining the VIP section, his body melting into its luxurious embrace as he draped an arm lazily along the backrest. The chaos of the celebration raged on around him, but he let it wash over him like a distant tide—untouchable, almost dreamlike. The deep bass of the music throbbed through his bones, each pulse syncing with the fading adrenaline in his veins.

Conversations buzzed and overlapped, a tangled symphony of indistinct voices that blurred into background static. Overhead, the flashing neon lights bathed the room in shifting hues of electric blue and fiery crimson, casting everything in a hazy, surreal glow, as if he were trapped somewhere between reality and a fever dream.

Jade moved through the dense crowd with an effortless grace that seemed almost magnetic, the kind that made people instinctively step aside without realizing they were doing it. Heads turned as she passed, drawn in by the quiet command in her posture, the unspoken authority in the way she carried herself. She was draped in deep emerald silk, the fabric catching the shifting neon lights and shimmering like liquid against her skin.

The dress hugged her every curve, tailored to perfection, its delicate straps leaving her shoulders bare. Her diamond-studded heels clicked against the cool marble floor in a slow, deliberate rhythm, each step exuding confidence, each movement calculated but seemingly effortless.

As she reached him, she didn’t pause or ask permission—she never did. Without hesitation, she lowered herself onto his lap, her body fitting against his like she had done this a hundred times before. One arm curled around the back of his neck, fingers grazing the short hairs at his nape, while her other hand lifted a slender flute of champagne to his lips. The glass was chilled, condensation gathering along its delicate stem, and when the effervescent liquid touched his mouth, it was crisp and sharp against the lingering burn of whiskey on his tongue.

Her perfume—something subtle but intoxicating, laced with jasmine and a hint of spice—wrapped around him, mingling with the heady scent of champagne and the faint traces of smoke and leather that clung to the air. Her gaze, dark and knowing, locked onto his as she leaned in just enough to make him forget everything else for a fleeting moment.

“The winner should be celebrating,” she purred, tilting the glass just enough to make the golden liquid meet his lips, her tone equal parts teasing and insistent.

Jungkook exhaled through his nose, letting the crisp bubbles burst against his tongue before swallowing, the cold contrast to the lingering heat of whiskey still burning in his chest. His free hand rested lazily against her thigh, not out of desire but out of convenience—it was easier to leave it there than to bother pushing her away.

“I am celebrating,” he muttered, the words slipping out with little conviction as he reached for his phone instead, already shifting his attention.

Jade arched a perfectly sculpted brow, her fingers tightening slightly at the back of his neck, nails grazing his skin with a deliberate slowness. “Scrolling through your phone doesn’t count,” she murmured, amusement laced in her voice. “Unless there’s a different kind of prize you’d rather be entertaining tonight?”

Jungkook barely spared her a glance, his thumb swiping across the screen with practiced indifference. “Maybe I just prefer my own company,” he quipped, though the slight tension in his jaw betrayed his carefully crafted nonchalance.

She hummed, tilting her head as if considering his words, though the glint in her eyes told him she wasn’t convinced. “Strange,” she mused, tracing the rim of her champagne flute with one manicured nail. “You’re not the type to spend victory night alone.”

He finally looked up, meeting her gaze head-on, his dark eyes unreadable. “Maybe you don’t me as well as you think you do,” he said, voice low, edged with something neither of them could quite name.

Jade clicked her tongue in amusement, unfazed by his disinterest. Instead, she leaned in closer, the scent of jasmine and champagne on her breath as she pressed a lingering kiss to his cheek, deliberately slow. When she pulled back, he could feel the stain of her deep red lipstick left behind.

“Join me when you come back to your senses,” she whispered into his ear, voice like velvet before she stood, her fingers grazing his jaw briefly before she disappeared back into the sea of bodies.

Jungkook let out a heavy sigh, dragging a hand down his face as the weight of the night settled over him. The celebration, the endless noise, the expectations pressing down on his shoulders—it was all too much. His skin felt too warm, his thoughts too loud, the chaos around him making it impossible to think.

He needed air.

Without a word, he pushed himself up from the plush velvet couch, ignoring the way Jade’s fingers ghosted over his wrist as he pushed past her. He didn’t give her—or anyone else—the satisfaction of an explanation. He just moved. Through the throng of people, past the sea of flashing cameras and raised glasses, tuning out the shouts of his name, the hands reaching for him, the hunger in their gazes. The crowd parted just enough to let him slip through, his pace measured but unrelenting. The moment he reached the exit, the bouncers barely had time to react before he stepped past them and into the cool embrace of the night.

The balcony was a stark contrast to the stifling heat of the club. The sharp ocean breeze met his skin, carrying the scent of salt and expensive cologne, a welcome relief from the overwhelming perfume and alcohol-laced air inside. He inhaled deeply, the crispness of the night air filling his lungs, grounding him.

Monaco stretched out before him, a glittering jewel against the ink-black expanse of the Mediterranean. The golden lights reflected off the gentle waves, shimmering like molten gold against the water’s surface. The city pulsed with life even at this hour—supercars purring through the winding streets, the distant murmur of laughter and conversation drifting up from the yachts lining the harbor. But here, away from the suffocating noise of the afterparty, he could finally breathe.

Leaning forward, he braced his arms against the cool stone railing, his gaze lifting toward the sky. The stars were faint, nearly drowned out by the artificial glow of the city, but he found himself searching for them anyway, as if focusing on something so distant could somehow quiet the storm inside him. Behind him, the music still throbbed through the walls of the club, a bass-heavy heartbeat that carried the sound of voices lost in celebration—people drinking, dancing, indulging in a night they wouldn’t remember with people they would never truly know.

And then—

Something caught his eye.

A figure moving below, weaving through the narrow, dimly lit streets of Monaco with a quiet, deliberate purpose.

A girl.

She was dressed in a black hoodie, the fabric loose against her frame, the faint white lettering on the back illuminated each time she passed under a streetlamp. It wasn’t anything remarkable, just a simple hoodie—except for the way Jungkook’s stomach tightened the second he saw it. His fingers curled against the stone railing, his pulse quickening in a way that had nothing to do with the crisp night air.

That hoodie—

He knew that hoodie.

But from where?

His mind scrambled for the answer, flipping through years of memories like a deck of cards shuffled too fast to catch. The familiarity clawed at his chest, a nagging pull at the edge of something half-forgotten, half-buried. And before he could fully think it through, before logic could tell him to let it go—

He was moving.

Pushing through the doors. Down the grand staircase two steps at a time. Past the lingering partygoers and the watchful eyes of the security team, ignoring the questioning glances thrown his way. The second his feet hit the pavement, his voice cut through the night, urgent and raw.

“Hey! Wait!”

The girl didn’t stop.

His chest tightened.

His legs carried him forward before he even made the decision to run. “Aylah—stop!”

And then—

She froze.

Slowly, hesitantly, she turned, the streetlight casting a soft glow over her face.

Jungkook’s breath caught. His pulse hammered against his ribs as he finally got a clear look at her.

For a moment, the world seemed to still.

But then—

She frowned.

Her expression didn’t shift into recognition, didn’t soften into something familiar. Instead, there was only confusion. Caution. A polite kind of indifference, as if his presence meant nothing more than an interruption in her night.

“Sorry… I don’t know who that is,” she said, her voice smooth, distant. Detached.

For a second, he just stared, his mind scrambling to make sense of what had just happened. His pulse still raced, his fingers still tingled with the remnants of anticipation, and yet—

She wasn’t Aylah.

Exhaling sharply, he ran a hand through his dark hair, shaking his head as the weight of his mistake settled in his chest. “Oh. Sorry. I thought you were someone else.”

The girl offered a small nod—nothing more—and then turned, disappearing into the crowd, swallowed up by the night.

Jungkook stood there, rooted in place, his breathing unsteady.

He let out a bitter, humorless laugh, running a hand through his hair before rubbing his face in frustration.

Aylah was gone.

Completely.

And yet, as he stood in the silence of the Monaco streets, the distant hum of the city surrounding him, he couldn’t shake the gnawing realization settling in his gut—Maybe, just maybe, he had never been the one to let go first.

[scara-writes]

paramour

Yandere!Cheating Duke X Duchess! Reader X Yandere!Lover Servant

I just want to write a reader who has the same/more power as/to the yandere(s).

The setting is still in the fantasy/manhwa world, medivial, any setting as long it's not modern.

CW: two yandere, rivals, cheating, consent smut, infidelity.

I'm making the darling a little more forward(?), daring, more power or that can go against a yandere. Atleast, that's what the darling thinks. Also, this is not polished like my other stories.[ Forgive me, I'm not good with smuts! I also love y'all comments and your ask/request(will answer them soon!). The Yandere Emperor and Yandere Crown Prince son really outnumbered the yandere Omega. Y'all are crazy for that!]

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

"Mistress." He murmured. His arms hadn't let go off your waist. It was the first thing your eyes landed on when the sunlight came in to greet a new day from the window balcony. You closed your eyes again to find your way back to sleep again.

Your hands went to trace his back full of scar last night from your nails. You hummed when he gave you a pepper kisses on your exposed skin.

"Morning." He gave you one last kiss on your lips before snuggling between your chest. His arms hadn't move around your waist since last night."Mmmh..morning..." You muttered looking away—eyes still close—from the sun when it kissed your face.

"Do you want me to call the maids to serve you breakfast?" His sweet voice lull to sleep more. You whispered no. Last night, this man gave you something akin to that of heaven, something your husband never gave you.

Last night, you made love with this man. The same man you rescued from the human trafficking, kidnapping commoner from the outskirts of the kingdom. Now, indebted by your kindness he devout himself to you with his life.

You groaned, feeling your body is aching all over. This goes not unnoticed by your lover."Did I hurt you to bad?" He asked. His earth orbs are gleaming with shine and now getting filled with tears. "I-I'm sorry, I was rough with you mistress." His voice full of regret and loathe on himself.

You opened your eyes, ruffling his curly brown hair before stroking it. Staring down at his eyes. "No. You did good." You smiled at him, cupping his face, before kissing him in the lips. He whimpered,deepening his into yours.

The intoxication of alcohol must have taken over you. Drowning yourself from the alcohol beverages after your husband didn't arrive on the scheduled date, you waited for him for a whole day to arrive. Alone in the gazebo, Everett was the one who went to your weeping figure. That was a month ago. Everett offered himself to shower you with his love. At first you feel reluctant about this, you will never be the type of person to use someone just so you can feel yourself happy. Everett didn't care about it whether you use him or not. He wanted to prove himself that you are worth to be love. This man made your heart flutter in a way that your husband once gave you before the marriage.

"I-I love what happened last night, my mistress." He whispered bashfully, his pretty swollen lower lip,you bitten hard last night, went to reach his eyes giving you a wide smile. The sun kissed his tan face adding a charming look. His neck has full of bites and bruises from you. His cheeks become a little darker shade from blushing, he must have reminisced something last night.

Now, you made him your lover. Though not completely in love with Everett. You also shower him with items or materials that most commoners would love to have but it doesn't seem like this man is materialistic. He just wants you.

You didn't hide Everett to your husband.

What's the use of hiding your fling to Theodore when he was the first one to cheat on this marriage?

Despite being loyal to that man you loved. He had the audacity to tell you that you shouldn't pry on his private his life after you confronted him with a newly hired maid going out. "Our marriage contract states that the two parties should not meddle one another's private life else this contract shall be annuled."

So all of his flexing his love for you was nothing but a hoax? A show? A lure for you to agree to marry him?

Though, your marriage with him was for the politcial marriage. You once fell in love with Theodore. The same man who gave you flowers everytime you two date, the same man who kissed in your cheeks after he walk you home, the same man who always writes poems about his devotion to you. Did he pursuade you to continue this marriage by making you love him so that the two duchy became one? It may seem like you wanted this marriage at first. You didn't, your family wanted it and they have asked you—no annoyingly, they plead you to marry him, because your parents and his parents signed a contract that their children will reunite the two duchy.

"Your ladyship, the duke asked for your audience to join him in the breakfast." Your butler from the other side of your room, outside the door, knocked and speaks after. You frown upon hearing it, looking at the closed door, what does he want?

You feel strange about your husband nowadays. He had been asking for your presence this past few days. Never once he called for you after your wedding with him.

You clicked your tongue and turn to look at your lover. You notice Everett's face was frowning too. "Tell the duke that I will be there in a moment." You announced to the butler outside the room expecting the old man to gear you through it. You look back at the man leaning his weight on you. You tap the curly haired lover to let you go from his hold yet he didn't budge after moving yourself to sit up instead you heard yourself going 'oomfh!' and finding your lips were on his again. You groaned while he moaned weakly. He pushed you down on the bed, his lips never leaving yours until you were out of breath. A string of saliva trailed between your mouths. Everett was smiling before diving his lips into your skin, to one of your chest, fondling the other. You feel a little ticklish and panting at his stimulation. "Eve—! Wait! Ah..." Your voices went unheard, The male's mewling, sucking on to your flesh like thirsty man who hadn't had a drink.

Your hand went to tug his hair as you moaned out his name. "Shi—Eve... Oh! S-stop... Ah.."

His other hand goes to put one of legs above his back and parted the other leg, accessing himself between you even more."m-mistress!"

You groaned when you felt him grind between you. He looked at you with a pleading eyes, he look like he will cry again, the tears filling up yo the side from his eyes. "M-mistress." He whined his mouth was already in another mound. You feel his hardness between. "p-please? I'll be good! Please... huff..I'll make y-you feel good!"

Your eyes are hazy from the pleasure. "You want.. hah... it?" His eyes getting filled again with tears. You tug him by the hair not enough to hurt him. You landed your lips on his ears. Panting and breathless when you felt his hands is still fondling your body. "You got..ngh... to earn it, pretty boy." You murmurs made him whimpered. "You have to be my good boy... Are you my good boy?"

He nod, a tear fell down to his cheeks, he leaned down to your lips, murmuring, i-am-your-good-boys, thank-yous and I-love-yous.

The room filled with noises that could make anyone flustered and uncomfortable. You didn't realize from your high you are feeling that the butler is coughing uncomfortably behind the door excusing himself as he will inform the duke what you told him earlier.

You went down the stairs with a difficulty, aching between your thighs. You can't find any dress to cover the one hickey on your neck, Everett apologize and helped you cover it with a foundation but it failed horribly from covering seeing that the foundation wasn't blend well and you do not want your maids do it for you. Not when you found out that almost all of them had already been with your husband. You were planning to replace them sooner.

You stopped at the closed door leading to the dinning room. The butler from earlier straightened his posture, clearing his throat after he saw you. He announced your presence behind the door opening the door for you."My lord, your ladyship is here."

You walked in after thanking one of the male servant for pushing the seat for you once you sit across the lord of the household, your husband, the Duke.

The breakfast before you was served cold. If you have arrived earlier you could have eaten warm. You glance at your husband, surprised that his plate has not been finished and it looked like he didn't touched it. You noticed his eyes is trained on to you since you came in, yet his eyes isn't on you but to your neck and the way you walk earlier.

His grey eyes seemed to be narrowing, he scoffed. "You're late."

You glance away, picking one of the utensil, stabbing the meat, landing it to your mouth chewing it. You gulped it down before taking another bite. The marinated pork seems to be delicious even if the breakfast a little no warm.

"It seems you are enjoying with your toy a little too much." He added, there was anger rising beneath his voice.

Oh, the egg is a little bland but it is still edible nonetheless.

"There are more new reports about your speculated infidelity to the public. Do you know that?"

You looked at him after eating the last piece of the sunny side egg, smiling: finally acknowledging his presence."Yeah, what about it? It's not like it will ruin our marriage. After all, you had a numerous of headlines about your 'rumored' infidelity too. Did our contractwas nulled after that? It didn't right?"

"(Y/n)."

"Yes, husband?"

His eyes widened a little before going back on giving you death gaze. "Kick that slave away. I don't like him." He demanded. Though he wasn't shouting. You frowned, how dare he?

"Why would I? It's my decision whether I choose to throw him out or not."

"I do not want him near my property." He complained, gritting his teeth at the last word.

"This is my property as well!" You sternly answered back. Not leaving another room for an argument.

There was silence between the room.

"... I... don't want him near you." You heard him. You blinked at the sudden word that blurted in his mouth.

You scoff standing up, "I think I should finish my meal somewhere..." You starts walking back to where you enter the room.

"(Y/n)." Theodore called you. You didn't observe the way his eyes longed for you. You were focus on the anger within you. "Are we forgetting something, Theodore?" You questioned.

He pondered, those orb you used to love held a confusion.

"Meddling into your partner's private life will annul this marriage... Wasn't that written in our contract?" You bitterly told him. "Sounds familiar right? Do not dare demand me to throw away Everett." You added.

Finally waiting for this moment for this to happen. Guess he will get to taste his own medicine.

"... As long as we do our part in this household we will act as husband and wife. Is not that what you told me?"

"..."

"Now then, I will excuse myself. I have no longer desire to finish my breakfast here." With that, you leave him there.

When you reach the door, opening it, you were surprise to see Everett waiting outside. "What are you doing here?" You asked him. Your frowned face was replaced with a confusion look before giving him a small smile. The man infront of you return your smile with a small grin, placing one of his arm on your waist."W-well, I feel bored and alone in my own room. So I found myself waiting here w-with the butler. Besides I saw you walking wobbly earlier and I-I am concerned that you might have even more difficulty walking... So f-forgive me for not staying put." The look concern on his face adding the pout from his lips made him look cute.

"What are you a puppy?"You poke his nose giggling as you walk away with him, your eyes went back to talk to the butler. Telling him you want to continue your breakfast at your garden, asking him to make it for a two people. The butler bowing to your order before going to the kitchen area to order the maid.

Your husband on the other hand, loath with rage and jealousy mixing under his eyes. His eyes narrowed especially when the slave you brought in leaned on top of your head kissing at the crown part of your head, leaning to your ear to whisper something akin to sweet talks. The arm around your waist went to rub your back.

If only you glance again on Everett's face. You would have caught him giving your husband a smug smirk.

[comatosebunny09]

carpe noctem [ rising action ] | sylus

— summary: you’ve convinced yourself that this is normal. routine. that you’re used to this, sitting like a fly on the wall while their relationship blossoms like a flower turned towards the sun before you. so why does it still hurt? — cw: reader is not mc, reader implied to be femme, assassin!reader, unrequited feelings, mentions of blood & injuries, jealousy, profanity, sexual content, fade-to-black, self-destructive behavior, somewhat of a slow burn, mdni — notes: thank you so much for reading! [ part 1 | part 2 | part 4 ] — now playing: bmf - sza

Breakfast is uncharacteristically quiet. 

At least, for the three of you, it is. The silence makes way for the lazy swish of cars on the road, the clatter of cutlery against plates, and the idle chatter of the cafe’s other patrons. 

It’s balmy outside. The type of weather that pastes your blouse to your skin and creates a fine film of sweat on the back of your neck. The kind that welcomes mosquitos and makes showering beforehand pointless. And it’s so obnoxiously bright out, nary a cloud in the sky. But you figure you're being unreasonably antsy because you’re hungover and still a little tired. 

Despite the climate, your ragtag team is seated beneath a cafe’s awning, scarfing down food to battle the effects of your collective hangovers before jetting back to Linkon.

Typically, Ms. Hunter would be on about something, filling the space with her animated talk, with you and Sylus occasionally chiming in to tease her or exchange covert words concerning upcoming missions. But she’s still a little worse for wear, with dark lenses perched on her nose and a wrinkle between her brows as she pushes food around her plate.

You snort around a mouthful of eggs at her plight, tucking your amusement behind your hand. Decide to incite a little mischief to distract yourself from the weather and the creeping feeling of unease brewing in your gut. 

“Someone had a rough night,” you tease, reaching for your orange juice.

She glowers at you. Sticks out her tongue, flipping you the bird. You snort into your drink, nearly sending pulp flying every which way.

“Not my fault you have the tolerance of a three-year-old.”

Your eyes crease at the corners whilst you watch her work up to a retort, mouth hanging open like a fish out of water. But before she can get a word out—

“Ladies,” Sylus interjects like a distant clap of thunder pushing across a dark horizon. He’s seated between you at the round, iron-wrought table, arms crossed over a broad chest. Sunglasses shroud scarlet intentions, but you don’t miss the twitch of a silver brow nor the humor meddling with his voice. “Play nice.” 

There’s finality there. He speaks to you like a referee. Like a father who’s caught his children roughhousing, and you both shrink beneath his mock disappointment. 

“Besides,” Sylus continues, casting his amused gaze on you. “You weren’t in the best of shape yourself last night. Are you really in any position to talk?” 

A hot rush of mortification wades over you. You're unsure of its source, whether at your memories of last night or how quickly he came to her defense. 

And so what if you stumbled a bit down the hall, searching for your room? 

You didn’t think he noticed after your exchange. Figured he retreated into his room, or worse—slipped across the hall to keep his hunter friend company into the wee hours of the morning while you tossed and turned, driven to hell by thoughts of them doing everything besides sleeping. 

The recollection makes you bristle, and you turn a scowl down to your food. Grumbling, you plop a slice of toast onto the hunter’s plate. She glances at you, confusion pulling her lips down. 

“Eat,” you order. “Feed a hangover, starve a cold.”

“I don’t think that’s how that goes,” she counters, a pout evident in her voice. But she doesn’t protest, sitting up in her seat to nibble on your peace offering.

You resist an impulse to pat her head, your ire sloughing off, traded for something like fondness. You want to ruffle locks of silken ebony because she’s effortlessly adorable, pulling at those little heartstrings you’d worked so hard to conceal. 

Sylus beats you to the punch, leaning forward to mold long fingers around the round of her head. The world slows, casting a special spotlight on the pair of them. 

You ignore how your chest tightens at the scene. At the affectionate little tug of his lips as Ms. Hunter cants her face towards him, cheeks full and expression doe-like. You try to pretend like it doesn’t make you sick with resentment. Once upon a time, he used to look at you like that. 

Fuck. 

What are you thinking? He is your boss, and she is your charge—your friend. There’s no reason to feel like this, especially considering you practically shoved Sylus into her arms, reasoning you never stood a chance in hell with him. 

You snap back to the present, and suddenly, breakfast isn’t so appetizing. You push around your cold eggs as Sylus and Ms. Hunter slide into easy conversation. You feel like a husk of yourself amid them. Like you’re impeding on something intimate, and your stomach lurches when they draw you into their chat every so often as if pitying you.

You’ve convinced yourself that this is normal. Routine. That you’re used to this, sitting like a fly on the wall while their relationship blossoms like a flower turned towards the sun. And yet, you’ve never been more eager to return to the N109 Zone. To leave these green-eyed thoughts on this island and get back to your distracting life, luring terrible people to their demise and wiping the scourge of man off the face of the planet. 

You suddenly straighten, clearing the phlegm from your throat. Your silverware clatters against your plate as you shove it away, eyes regretfully shifting between them.

“So, what time do we leave?” There’s a whisper of exasperation in your tone, but you quickly conceal it with that playful arrogance you’re known for. 

Sylus and the hunter trade looks of confusion and humor, blind to the turmoil of your mind slowly creeping through the folds and staining your pride like ink spilled into water.

“Eager to get back to work, aren’t you?”

You scoff, taking up your fork, clueless to scarlet eyes studying the crown of your head, narrowing at the apprehensive slope of your voice. “You have no idea.”

—

It’s a pleasure to dance. Of course, it always is. It’s one of the few times you feel desired. Wanted. Useful when your hands aren’t speckled with blood and your knuckles aren’t purpling from bashing someone’s face in for taunting The Devil. 

Dancing is a versatile skill you’ve acquired with time and practice. It's one of the few pleasures you’ve drawn from this fickle life. One of the few things you kept from a past veiled in darkness, the rest tucked away in the hulls of your psyche.  

All eyes are on you. Gazes burning with assorted degrees of desire, envy, and awe beneath the tawny glow of the stage lights. The attention makes you warm and tingly, and your lips salaciously curve as you move your body in time with the music, casting an inadvertent spell on all who dare to watch. 

You’re the center of attention without trying to be and without the influence of your Evol. Of course, you usually are. He’s even told you so. Customers often flock to Sylus’ nightclubs to see you dance, hoping to one day have your affections. 

Or to fuck you. 

You rarely entertain these people. Not unless you have to. Not unless Sylus sicks you on them to further his goals or take down his competition. You’re ever the faithful lapdog, tuned to your boss’ every command, and it makes you sick with how loyal you are to him sometimes. A part of you feels you owe him for this life you lead. He’d snatched you from an impenetrable darkness. Renewed your sense of purpose and redirected your desire for revenge. 

For now, you have this. The recognition of others despite how misplaced it is. They want you for your body, for the promise of what your facade offers. Deep down, you crave something more, something real. But you tamp down those feelings as you bite your lip, putting on a good show, hands smoothing over the surge of your hips. And you’re spurred by the whoops and whistles and shouts of your name as the lights dim, signaling the conclusion of your performance.

Your chest heaves with the effort of breathing, and your cheeks ache with a smile as you pose. The crowd's cheers dampen the violent thrum of your heartbeat—chase away the cacophony of your mind, adrenaline spuming through you like an erupting geyser. 

You look over your shoulder towards the ceiling, catching scarlet-spun eyes from the upper floor’s rail, and your grin twitches the slightest bit. It’s a rush, having the attention of strangers. Having their desire, their yearning. But his attention is much more addicting like Nicotine furling between your teeth. For a moment, you feel seen. Like you’re the center of his universe, and not the pretty, bright-eyed damsel with enough room in her heart to house the galaxy.

Something flashes in his eyes, and the world fades. You mistake it for tenderness. Just wishful thinking. He would never choose you. He’s had four years to make you his. 

Why would he suddenly choose to acknowledge you now?

—

Once the adrenaline ebbs and clubbers flood the dance floor, you’re nestled behind the crowd, leaning against the sticky countertop of the bar, clutching a glass of something acrid and glacial between your fingers—something to take the edge off. To mute the insistent pulse of your nerves.

The music thumps beneath your feet, accompanied by the sparkling chatter of the club’s other clients. Yet you still hear him amid the chaos—the familiar curl of a voice around the vowels of your name. You fix him with an amused, sultry look beneath Lux’s customary red hue. 

“When are you gonna let me take you out on a date?” he asks, worn knuckles easing down the slope of your arm. You track his audacity with your eyes, jerking away from his unwarranted attention, ignoring the goosebumps igniting across your skin.

This, too, is routine—one of Lux’s regulars throwing himself at your feet, begging for an opportunity to court you.  He’s been on like this for months, entertaining your game of cat and mouse. Maybe you’ve given him a false sense of hope because he’s yet to let up. In fact, he’s grown bolder with his advances lately, often popping up when you least expect him, vying for your heart.

It’s endearing, really, having someone who genuinely wants you. Or maybe he doesn’t, but you convince yourself otherwise. Play a sick little game with yourself, fooling yourself into thinking that maybe there’s more to you than your reputation builds you up to be.

You turn towards him, crossing your legs, the leather barstool sticky beneath your thighs. You lean into your knuckles, studying dark brows, whiskey-infused eyes, and full lips. You end your excursion at the thick of his throat, excitement prickling like static in your chest. He’s easy on the eyes, tone velvet smooth. Had you not been a femme fatale, you might’ve given him the time of day.

But for now—

“You couldn’t handle me,” you counter, reveling in how the smugness melts from his face.

He chuckles at your cheekiness, sweeping the tails of his blazer back and stuffing his hands into his pockets. Squares his shoulders, standing akimbo like he’s preparing for a fight, though he might as well be, stepping to you like this.

“Still holding out for that old man, I see.”

It is your turn to wear a wavering smile. Your turn to look silly, the proverbial knife driven into your stomach and twisted. 

You scoff with a sneer, dumping the last vestiges of your drink down your throat. You tear yourself from your seat, reaching past the gentleman to snatch your coat from the counter, pinning him with a haughty look. 

“I’m not holding out for anyone, fucker. And even if I were, it wouldn't be your slow ass.”

With a huff, you brush past him, wending through the crowd gathered on the dance floor to retreat into your dressing room. 

You try vainly to contain a scowl, knowing you’ve been read like the deckled pages of a book deep down. 

Maybe you refuse to move on because you feel like you’d betray Sylus if you did. How, exactly, you’re unsure. He’s had no problem betraying you, quietly shoving you out of the picture in favor of someone who’s hardly seen him bleed. 

—

“Do you like anybody?” Ms. Hunter asks above the steady purr of the SUV’s engine.

Her question nearly floors you. Your grip on the steering wheel tightens slightly, and you almost choke on your spittle. 

You’re stuck in traffic together. 

Knowing the holidays loomed around the bend, someone decided it would be an ideal day to go to the mall. Of course, you weren’t the only people out on the road. 

So naturally, she’s bored, unused to the silence stretching between you. The low croon of the music spilling from the speakers does nothing to ease the tension.

You glance at her, and she’s wearing a Cheshire Cat-like grin, studying you from the passenger seat. You swallow thickly, adjusting your shades on your face, staring at the cars sluggishly easing up beyond the windshield. “I don’t like very many people.”

An exasperated sigh later.

“C’mon! There’s gotta be someone you like. Ya’ know.” She pitches herself closer, her mischievous grin curling in your periphery, and she pokes your side with a pointed finger to get a rise out of you. 

“Someone that gets your heart racing. Someone who makes your face all hot. Makes butterflies swarm in your tummy.” 

You know exactly where this is going. Had you not valued your friendship—or whatever you call this complicated mashup between you—you would reveal the inner workings of your mind. But how insane would you sound, telling the hunter the person who gets your blood racing is the very same man she has tucked in her back pocket?

So, you deflect. With a sardonic smirk, you jest, “You get my heart racing when you fuck up our meetings.”

You squint and flinch away with a laugh in your throat as she swats you, whining at your cruelty. 

“You suck,” pouts Ms. Hunter, falling back into her seat with crossed arms. “Bet it’s that guy who always stalks you at Lux.”

You side-eye her in the rearview, placatingly patting her head. “I like you, stupid. Isn’t that good enough?”

Maybe one day. 

One day, you’ll have the intestinal fortitude to tell her the truth—to tell them both the truth. How you’re falling apart at the stitching, the world you know falling away from beneath your feet.

—

You’re not as strong as you let on. You’re human beneath that flirtatious exterior—still a woman with wants and needs, not immune to the temptations of the flesh. Which is why you find yourself at his doorstep, a glacial, errant breeze ruffling the tails of your coat as the silvery moon haloes your silhouette.

He leans against the doorframe, brown eyes simmering with intrigue as he takes you in. Dark hair sweeps over raised brows. “What made you change your mind?”

You shrug, hands stuffed in your pockets, a quirk to your lips. “Maybe I just need a friend.”

He chuckles low, arms crossed. “A friend, huh?” 

“Yeah.”

There’s no mistaking the pitch of your voice. The air charges with something amorous as he ushers you into his apartment. You brush past him, tamping down your dignity as you disappear into the warm sanctity of his home, his hand reassuring at the small of your back.

Had you taken the time to survey your surroundings, you would’ve noticed a set of beady, crimson eyes peering through the inky night, watching you from their perch atop a powerline.

And had you further investigated, you would’ve heard the familiar whirr of machinery as the iridescent outline of sleek feathers recorded your every move.

conflict | masterlist | climax

[shinigamigloss]

mr. perfect guy

✎ semester break has never been so much fun, all thanks to your brother’s best friend Leon.

cw: fem!reader and she/her pronouns, cunnilingus, slight size kink, praises!, cowgirl, creampie, the beginning is like sooo sugary and fluffy, but the ending is a pure filth + weird and corny jokes ewww word count: 2.6k just a lil note: this is a request by an anonymous person :3 and we’re 145 ppl eeek so this is a teeny-bean-y gift for those who follow me, and i was listening to ‘guy.exe’ when i was writing this (pls let’s have a moment of silence – yes im talking about that TikTok trend... six feet tall and super strong (insert a big bicep here) man i miss 2021) also this is my semester break aka i will be writing two more requests then i will probably disappear bc theres a big scary exam waiting for me

The winter semester break is finally knocking on your door. It’s been a hectic ride; the caffeine has been pumping beans through your veins, and it was a real slog to recall the rollercoaster between the sleepless nights and the mornings when you almost dozed off during exams.

The bottom line is that no one deserves this week of rest more than you. Staying at home and sleeping, smoking, drinking, and reading all day all sound absolutely wonderful now since they were the very things you couldn’t afford to do during that deadline week.

Except that your dear mother makes a last-minute decision and crashes your week-long plan in the middle of the day. It’s safe to say your whole day is for naught.

“It’s just a two-day trip. Your brother misses you so much—oh, I have such darling babies.”

Your mother kept reiterating these words, or equivalent synonyms and loanwords – in a loop the whole ride.

Perhaps you can sympathize with her. After all, you hadn’t seen your brother in years. When you decided to go to college in another city, your mother had moved in with you temporarily, and your brother was bound to stay in Washington, D.C. He said the job paid handsomely; he made a good living, yada, yada, yada. He even got a roommate and stayed in the city, claiming that the apartment was a good value for money.

Now, you’re hoping his roommate is away visiting family for the holidays. Yes, it may be his apartment, and he may be subsidizing the rent, but that doesn’t really color your judgment. Just how much merit can you have in the company of someone you know nothing about?

Ironically, though, things and your opinion do transmogrify in a different dimension. Later that night, upon entering the house, your eyes lock on the man who gingerly stoops to lift two oversized suitcases – no idea why you packed so much for a multi-day trip – as if he has nary a care in the world. The pearly-pale skin of his fingers is kissed by figs and rosebuds. One can’t fail to be captivated.

“Here, let me show you your room.”

He has a watchful mien, his eyes sharp and sunken, sparkling blue and pink-rimmed. Even if you’re not one of those “I’m sooooo crushing on my brother’s best friend” type of girls, by virtue of temperament, you can’t help but like him.

Not that he didn’t like your little coaxing and somewhat sheepish smile.

Little gestures, like the fact that he cooked your eggs just the way you liked them for breakfast (it’s a mystery how he could do that without really asking you), lulled you to the point of making you imprint a Kennedy next to your first name and a diamond solitaire on your ring finger.

In the midst of winter, even in the hiemal snow and gloom, he gives rise to those flowers blooming inside you that can only sprout in wintry days.

You’re like a little child, like snowdrops or primroses.

After that spectacular night and in the morning, you go out and decide to catch the panorama of winter in D.C. with your brother and Leon.

“I say we should put olives for his eyes.” You insert a scathing comment on the figure of the snowman you created from three globes of snow, and your hands are on your hips.

“Coal would do better, don’t you think? Those bulging eyes should scare the passersby.” Leon’s quick to pitch in his two cents’ worth of ideas.

“Now that’s just cruel, Leon.”

His name, the most melodious tone he has ever heard from your precious mouth, blends with the tenderest chorus of his all-time favorite song. Turning to him, you see that he’s already munched on more than half of the carrot in his hand.

“Did you just eat our snowman’s nose?”

You’re not exactly upbraiding him, but you’re partly reminding him of a little vignette of his mother. The disbelieving sibilance in your voice, how your eyebrows are drawn together and knitted, but on your lips is a very lentil grain of an amused smile. This is straight-up pulling teeth, and you’re so pretty in his eyes.

“Easy now, don’t get all uptight on me.” Leon’s been ready to face the music since yesterday, if not since the minute he was born.

Holding the ‘tin soldier,’ alias the now-headless carrot, in his hand, Leon puts the lone comestible in the center of the snowman’s skull. He takes a step back and sticks his thumb out in a histrionic way, like a contractor taking precise measurements of his masterpiece. Obviously, it’s a well-proportioned enough capture. His aim must be well-honed, like that of a smooth operator.

“Uhmm, what are you doing?”

“Just giving my little snowman Kennedy a nose with an aesthetic.” He rounds on you again, so unwary.

The swirl of your heart, a thrall in your ribs, is a real vilification. The walkers of Rock Creek Park around you – the stream of men, women, children, and snow-coated furred cats and dogs – all of them evanesce. You’re in your own little world, but it is his presence and his angel eyes that partake in this world with you – a custom-made one, if not just the two of you, and nobody else.

“Excuse me, but how come he carries your family name?”

“That’s because I’m his dad.” He sure says it convincingly. “You be his mom, and let’s now give our kid the nose of his dreams. A small monetary apology for my hereditary one.”

That’s bullshit. Balderdash. His nose is perfectly all right up your alley.

“I think you’re just bullshitting ‘cause you like the attention.”

A little bit of Leonian attitude never hurt anyone. Be stuck-up, sprinkle wisps of a wiseass, and all.

Nice to see a smaller version of you like that – at least, for Leon.

“How come you’re saying that now?”

“It’s obvious. You say bad things about yourself so others will put you in a good light.”

You make it sound like you’ve auspiciously figured him out in less than a day. So easily.

Leon allows your words to sink in and suddenly lobs the snowball he’s gathered in his palm straight at you. Oh, this is a war in your book.

No one could have guessed – least of all you – that you would be having a snowball fight with your brother’s roommate when just yesterday, at this time on the road, you wanted the guy simply out of the picture.

Life and fate have a way of playing fickle tricks on you, you suppose.

That your blood warmed to him so readily and that your small, fuzzy, childish crush on him is a mere diversion that will only fade in two days. Neither you nor he is a teenager anymore. You have a college to swipe at, and he has some operose work to do.

Still, there’s absolutely nothing stopping the two of you from exchanging numbers.

It all happens so randomly.

It’s the itchy afternoon hours when he knocks on the door of the room you’re staying in, about three hours before you and your mom leave. After you confirm with a “come in,” he buzzes in.

Oh, he didn’t exactly think you were going to greet him in a linen bathrobe or anything like that.

“Oh! My eyes!”

He folds his palms over his eyes like he’s been shot in the heart. It’s like he’s never seen a pretty girl in a bathrobe before; he’s acting like a silly schoolboy. That crowns an impish grin on your lips.

“Damn, a trigger warning could’ve been fine for the no-makeup look.”

“What?!” Your grin falls apart.

Dick.

The crux of it is that he narrowly pulled your number before you left the premises, much to your chagrin. He could have asked your brother, which would have been one thing, but Leon couldn’t bring himself to do it, given that the monochrome and chirpy snickering between you and Leon had already made your brother a tad dubious. Best to get it from the source anyway. So, Leon came to you and obtained your phone number. Jackpot, really.

You were torn between texting him first or not. Hell, you were thinking about him when you sat up in class – even at the beginning and in the middle of lectures. At dinner, with your friends, and in many other little moments and details. Some of your friends were quick to catch on to your sleaze, and they all said the same run-of-the-mill thing:

“Ugh, your expectations are too high, girl. You’ll never find a guy like that. Waste of time. Just get your head out of the fucking skies and stop being delusional.”

You even consulted a friend who you genuinely thought was a genie or a witch. She grudgingly, under your compulsion, pulled tarot cards for you.

“Umm, yeah. He likes you, whoa! Actually, he thinks your tits are so pretty. I think he sometimes does fuck his fist when he thinks about you,” she averred, and you batted your lashes like a half-wit.

Guess what happened after that reading session?

Leon texted you his first message at 5 A.M. on that fateful day.

“You’re still holding on to me?”

What a flashy piece of texting.

Who cares? A message is a message, and exceptions are the rule.

You kept texting each other until the spring semester. You kept saying you wanted to visit D.C., and he kept telling you to stick to your studies.

“Think about your future salary, sweetheart. Fuck it. You’re gonna get that bag.”

Then there were the cute names he called you alongside his adjuvant-worthy pep talks. You could not get enough of them; they made your heart sing like a dove in an aviary cage.

He called you on certain evenings, and your long conversations felt like a frosty dessert after a hearty meal.

“You’ve finished a whole semester, yeah? That’s my girl. Don’t you think you deserve a treat from me?”

It was eating you up inside. He was eating you up inside. The thing is, neither you nor he dared to label the thing between you, but he could very easily take you out for an exclusive dinner.

Now you’re here, waiting for him to pick you up. It’s exactly eight, sharp. Not a minute late.

“I can’t let you go till you try the lamb agnolotti.”

Leon’s very persistent. He personally drove you to his much-loved (read: flaunting his Italian roots) Fiola restaurant.

The food is beyond spectacular and assertive enough to leave a lingering dulcet aftertaste on your palate, paired with the sherry. You can tell he’s got good taste.

“My stomach is bloated. Any more of this, and I’ll end up in a food coma.”

“Excuses, excuses.” He tutts at you.

The car ride after dinner, accompanied by the crisp ambiance of a warm spring, serves as a prelude to the long, long night. You couldn’t control your hands the whole route; you had a valid alibi. This is what happens when the man you haven’t seen for months – the one you’ve flipped out over in the ‘adjacent of a situationship but never enough to make it something real’– happens to be next to you.

“Jesus. Simmer down, will you? Driving a—hey! Sweetie, keep your hand outta there. Not now.”

That changes almost the minute he ushers you into his tenement. He lures you into his room, props you up against the three-panel door, and eats your pussy from behind until your legs give out. No wonder he is a dab hand at it, and the cherry on the cake is your taste on his tongue – all moreish. He sucks and licks the cherry of your clit until the pulp is swollen and you cum on his tongue – the epiphany of the night.

The conclusion to the overall story is that you find yourself on his platform bed, riding his dick so idyllically, without any flaw or pretense. You say he’s too big, but you take it. You ride him cowgirl.

“Fuck, look at you. Pretty pussy suckin’ me so pretty.”

Under you, Leon makes the most ear-candy-inducing noises he can ever muster. Pink-cheeked and greedy, he looks like one of those pretty porn stars with dreamy eyes and long lashes.

“Just like that, beautiful. Ride it—oh fuck!”

“Just shut up...” You reprimand him. He’s distracting you when all you want to do is ride and ride him more.

His rasping, labored puffs of air tickle your ears. The crystalline light caressing his skin like a shimmering roseate or the reflection of moonlight on rivulets makes it look like the lights are swimming around him. You wonder if he tastes that rich.

A rush of euphoria bubbles up inside you, stirring in the pit of your stomach, a deluge of sensations that he’s all too familiar with as your tight clutch of cunt enfolds him. This really must be a dream, he thinks. You look divine – head tilted, hair in a cute mess, playing amok with your little love-starved clit.

As if on queer cue, his phone chimes janglingly.

Really, Leon?

Everyone puts their phone on silent – particularly when they’re fucking and deep balls inside somebody.

You pay no heed to it; you just fuck yourself on his cock, but the ringing phone goes off again. Very importuning, to say the least.

Leon’s painfully nearing, and you’re about to hit your second orgasm. The arbitrarily splashed colors are now bokeh blurs behind the penumbra of your eyes.

Tring, tring!

It happens again. Those stupid flip phones and their stupid ringing.

On the phone, Leon can barely get his mitts on, the name that flickers on is none other than your brother’s.

“Shit,” he thinks. Now he’s in the deep end. You won’t hold back, and neither will he cease those thrusts, kissing your cervix beneath you.

Well, he’s already pushed that green button once. No going slack now.

With a palm on your mouth, Leon occludes your bellicose blubbering and hushes you.

“Leon, my man, I’m real sorry, man. It was urgent. Seems like my sister’s MIA. Said she told her friends she was busy tonight, but it’s no good. Now it’s pretty late. You seen her? Did she call you by any chance? Anything helps, Kennedy, I’m biting my nails here.”

Poor, poor worried brother.

Since Leon can’t really say, “Your precious little sister is all over me, riding me breathlessly,” he immediately adopts his “on pins and needles” character.

“No. Where —unngh!— seen her? Me? Nope, not me.”

“Oh, hell no. Are you taking a shit in the toilet? What is all that pushing for?”

Actually fucking your sister’s cum in her pretty little hole, Leon doesn’t say it, but those are the exact sentiments that course through his head.

And who’s he to take away the one thing you desire most anyway? Anything for a pretty girl who already looks like a fucking goddess when she creampies on his cock.

“Huh. Yeah. Well, if you’ll pardon me, damn it.”

“Whatever. Just spray those floral air fresheners after you finish your job, you asshole.”

When Leon hangs up his phone and makes sure you ride the fading butterflies of your bliss, he seizes you by the dip of your waist and rams you underneath him.

“Seems like you really got your big brother worried,” he says and reaches a hand down to array your right leg around his hip.

“What do you say we go for round two before he gets home?”

[sloaneispunk]

“it’s all fun & games”

frontman!in-ho x you

a certain sweetheart in the game knows in-ho’s real identity, but will she care when in-ho feels the same way about her?

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒. ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒. ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒. ⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆. ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒. ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒. ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒.

“let’s go one round and introduce ourselves, it’s lame calling everyone by their numbers.” you chipped in excitedly, hand rest on the palm of your hands as you eyed in-ho.

he knew the game you were playing, you just wanted to see how long he could keep his identity concealed.

“i’m jung-bae.”

“i’m dae-ho.”

“my name’s jun-hee.”

“and i’m seong gi-hun.”

“i’m y/n and i guess that just leaves you.” you pointed to in-ho who was nervously looking down at the floor.

“i-i’m… young-il.” he said in a low voice.

“young-il!” you giggled, “hey, that matches your number! i wonder if it’s a coincidence!”

“ah, she’s right! 0-1, young-il!” junb-bae clapped his hands as the team laughed.

but in-ho couldn’t care less, he gave you a glare as you tirled a few strands of your hair between your fingers.

this was going to be fun.

even as big of a compromise as you were to his plan, in-ho found himself liking it. not only was it a challenge, but he got to see the cheeky, not-so innocent side of you that no one else could.

by now, he was almost a hundred percent positive that you knew exactly who he was, the frontman. but did he care? no. it was all fun and games, just a little tiny ruse of yours to keep him on his toes.

that night when everyone was tucked into their beds, getting ready to sleep, in-ho sneakily walked up to the side of your bed.

“can i help you?” you chirped, eyes doe-wided as you smiled at him. but he saw right through, you wsnted this to happen.

“what do you think you’re doing?” he gritted out, sitting down beside your bed.

“trying to sleep but some bozo won’t let me.” you scoffed playfully, laughung at your own joke while in-ho didn’t even crack a smile. “what do you want?”

“what do i want? i want you to stop whatever games you’re playing here.” he said sternly, “i don’t know how you figured it out, but they don’t know so keep it down!”

“can’t a girl have some fun?” you looked at him with a pout on your lips. “isn’t it more exciting for you this way, i know you like the thrill as much as i do.”

in-ho took a hold of your jacket, giving you no choice but to lean down towards him, face centermeters away from him as you felt his breath on your cheek.

“look, i don’t care that you have anything to do with the game, i really don’t!” you lifted your arms up subtly in surrender. “but i gotta say, you’re pretty hot for the frontman.”

“yeah? is this what you wanted? you just couldn’t help yourself, huh? you needed my attention?”

“maybe.” you shrugged, causing him to shake his head, chuckling in disbelief.

“you’re something else, y’know?”

“all for you.”

after that, you both went to bed. your mind was racing. was this really going to end well? maybe it was just a stupid crush you had on him, it didn’t really matter. but in-ho had other plans, he’s never met someone so sweet yet cunning at the same time. you had awoken a flame inside of him that he swore was already gone.

during breakfast the next day, you sat close to in-ho legs and arms touching as you got comfortable beside him.

“so what’s your real name?” you whispered to him as the others carried on with their conversation.

“you gonna tell anyone, you minx?” he teased, smiling down at you.

“i promise i won’t.”

“it’s in-ho.”

“in-ho, huh? that goes pretty well with y/n.”

he laughed out loud at your obvious flirting, making the others stop to look at you both.

“sorry.” you apologised to the team as they resumed their talk.

when it came to the ‘six-legged pentathlon’ game, you were paired with in-ho, gi-hun, jung-bae and dae-ho.

“oh, inh-i mean young-il, which game do you think you’ll be good at?” you asked, purposefully slipping up to get a rise out of him once more.

in-ho clenched his fist, he knew it was intentional.

“uh, spinning top, i suppose.” he replied.

“great!” you cheered as the game began.

when it came to your turn, everyone was at the brink of either puking or shitting themselves. yet somehow, you remained composed. in-ho took glances of you many times but he couldn’t figure out how you of all people were so calm.

little did he know, you already knew there was no way you would be able to fail these games. for god’s sake, you had the frontman here with you. and if you would’ve guessed? he wasn’t going to stand there and watch you get shot doen by the guards, you knew you already meant more to him than that.

as an act of revenge for your little ‘slip-up’ earlier, in-ho ensured to fail multiple times at his game, making the team even more so uneasy than they already were. he had to admit, it was satisfying to finally see some hints lf fear in your eyes as he failed.

but eventually, the team had made it out alive at the very last second. you let out a deep breath that you were subconsciously holding in.

“scared now?” a voice came from behind.

you whipped your head around, but was only met with the mischievous grin of in-ho.

“are you fuckin’ crazy?!” you practically yelled at him.

in-ho pulled you into the bathroom as the team continued to make their way to the room without you.

“will you shut up?” he scolded, holding you against the wall.

“you’re telling me you did that on purpose?!”

“wasn’t it ‘exciting’?” he mocked you from earlier, causing you to roll your eyes. “and you’re not so innocent too, calling me by my real name in front of everyone like that?”

“it’s my way of flirting.” you joked, snorting a laugh as he gently put you down.

“flirting?”

“yeah, can’t you tell?” you questioned. “and i think it’s starting to rub off on you too.”

you weren’t wrong. in-ho didn’t only find himself liking your cocky remarks more, but he started to copy them too.

“you’re a minx you know that?” he said.

“i know, and you love it.”

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒. ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒. ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒. ⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆. ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒. ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒. ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒.

a/n: this is a lil twist on the sweetheart!reader x in-ho trope and i think it’s pretty cute! i’m still a sucker for lee byung hum, send help.

[quietstormxr]

Favorite

Summary: Xaden never knew he had a favorite.

A/N: FW spoilers, Angst/Fluff

Word Count: 2.5k

Just for fun, because it came to me. Enjoy!

He never realized how much he looked forward to your presence on the day to day. The quick small smile that you would give him in the morning. The way your laugh seemed to reverberate through the halls warming him from the inside out. So many little things and moments that he had taken for granted, hell he hadn’t even noticed them before. 

Not until the morning that you didn’t show up for breakfast. He didn’t even realize he was searching for you until Garrick elbowed him in the side.

“Why the hell do you keep looking at the doors like they’ve personally offended you?” Garrick teases earning a glare from Xaden. 

“I’m not. Just looking around.” He mumbles back turning his head away from the doors to the dining hall.

‘Lying this early in the morning is a new one, even for you.’ Sgaeyl can’t help but slither into the conversation earning nothing but an irritated huff from her bonded rider.

Later that day he just couldn’t shake the dread that had settled into him since he hadn’t seen you in any of your classes or battle brief. As your Wingleader, he knew that if something was wrong someone would’ve told him. He always received notes regarding any cadets that were sick or indisposed in his wing. Unfortunately, no note of any kind had been sent his way.

It went on like that for three long days. Mornings with no smile, classes with no laugh, and evenings of scanning the hall for your eyes. 

On the slow trudge back to the dormitories, a movement in the corner of the rotunda caught his eye. Looking over he saw a figure, bloodied from head to toe, eyes almost swollen shut. For a moment he didn’t give it much thought, until he saw the glint of gold around your neck. In that moment, his heart rate spiked as recognition ran through him. You were the only rider that wore a necklace like that, and then he realized there was no mistaking that hair.

Without registering what his feet were doing, he found himself moving towards you at a speed that surprised even himself. In a few quick strides he was standing in front of you as you went to limp a few additional steps forward.

“What happened?” He breathed, unsure of if he should touch you or not.

You shook your head back at Xaden, your already swollen eyes beginning to water with the obvious pain radiating from every inch of your body.

“Can I take you to the healers?” He rushes out, feeling helpless watching you suffering.

You give him a slight nod and before you can bring your head all the way up, Xaden hoists you up and begins to carry you. A sharp hiss finds it way out of your lips as the pressure of your wounds is aggravated by his calloused hands. He looks down at your face and you don’t miss the apology reflected in the golden flecks of his eyes.

Xaden walks swiftly and with purpose striding faster than normal to get you to the healers. Inside though, he is a tumult of emotion between rage and fear. What the hell happened to you? You weren’t a second year so this wasn’t an RSC exercise.

‘Does Cikeniss know what happened?’ He questions Sgaeyl not wanting to wait for you to give him the answer.

‘No, Cikeniss only confirms that she was somehow cut off.’ Sgaeyl relays with a hint of anger coating her reply.

‘Cut off? How could she be cut off from her bond?’ Xaden questions trying to get more information. 

‘It is apparently something new your leadership is trying out. They have yet to give the antidote. Cikeniss confirms she can’t reach her rider.’ Sgaeyl confirms as he feels the anger at the possibility radiating from his sapphire bond.

Snapping out of his conversation with Sgaeyl, he looks down at you and feels his arms tighten involuntarily. You were cut off from your dragon and something could’ve happened. The thought that no one knew where you were and now that your dragon didn’t even have access to you solidifying the fear he’s been feeling. 

In the next few strides, he’s entering the healer’s quadrant. As he walks into the facility, there are people rushing about, but no one has seemed to taken notice of the two of you. He walks further into the room and still no one notices. 

Patience wearing thin, he snaps. “Is someone going to look after her or do I need to bandage her myself?”

Immediately two healers lead the way to a room as you look up to your commanding Wingleader. Gently lowering you onto the bed, his breath catches when even in pain you give him one of your warm smiles. The anxiety over the last few days seeming to lessen slightly, thought looking at your broken and bruised body it lingers.

The healers gather over your frame that is gently laid on the white sheets of the bed. The stark relief between the mix of the blood and grime that is sliding from your skin and leathers to the sheets has Xaden tensing more and more each second. How much had your body been broken and bruised for three whole days? What the reason that it even happened in the first place?

He tries to turn over what could have possibly happened before his thoughts are interrupted by a small hand on his shoulder. Looking up, he is greeted with the serious face of a healer. 

“She will need to be sedated in order for us to work on her fully. You are welcome to stay, but if so, you’ll have to wait in the hall.” The healer relays. 

Xaden can’t imagine possibly leaving you after seeing you so broken and bruised. And that is why he finds himself pacing the hallway of the healer’s quadrant with a dagger absentmindedly flipping over and over in his hand, thoughts still consumed with the possibilities of why this happed. 

He doesn’t know how long it’s been, but the pacing is doing little to calm the raging storm in his thoughts.

‘Can Cikeniss reach her?’ He questions Sgaeyl wanting to at least know that you’re still holding on.

‘No.’ Sgaeyl confirms with no sugar coating her tone.

Just hearing Sgaeyl confirm you are still cut off causes his chest to tighten further. It seems the gods finally are willing to have a little mercy on him as in the next pass of his pacing one of the healers finally comes out of the room. 

“We’ve treated everything we can. Nolon has been in to make sure to help with any major issues and she’s cleared to go back to her room. She’s going to have lingering bruising and soreness, but overall, she should be cleared for getting back to class.” The healer confirms.

As Xaden stands there listening, the last thing he can possibly imagine is letting you go back to classes with how he just saw you. 

“May I go in and be with her now?” Xaden asks hopefully, dreading being told no and to get back to class. 

“Of course. She may still be a little drowsy, but she should be waking up soon.” The healer tells him, gesturing towards the room your in. 

‘Cikeniss confirms their bond has been restored.’ Sgaeyl startles him as he begins to step towards your door. 

‘Did Cikeniss confirm anything else?’ He asks needing to know what exactly happened to you for his own sanity.

‘She did, but you will have to ask if you want that information.’ Xaden can’t help but feel disappointment and agitation that Sgaeyl won’t tell him what you went through.

‘It’s not as easy as just telling you. The reasons for her laying in that bed is not idol gossip that should be spread.’ Sgaeyl responds tersely, almost as if she is upset on your behalf for everything you endured.

Xaden can’t help the furrow overtaking his brow as he enters the room. As he lays eyes on your form, he can’t help but take stock of all the bruises that are littered across your arms, torso, and legs. The small shake of his head is impossible to stop as he realizes there may not be one patch of skin that doesn’t have a lingering purple tint. 

As soon as he reaches the side of the bed, he can see how your breathing is beginning to change indicating that you are waking up. He doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath until he finally watches your eyelids begin to flutter. As soon as he sees your eyes open fully, the breath fully releases from his lungs as he brings his hand to hold yours. The constriction that settled around his entire chest completely breaks when you give him a small smile, disarming him completely in a way he never realized before.

“If anyone saw, they might think you have a favorite dear Wingleader.” His hand tightens on your own at hearing you speak after four days of not seeing you, thought he can’t stop the glare he gives you at your comment. 

“Well, they can fuck right off.” He responds back immediately in a tone harder than he meant to give you.  “Besides, they wouldn’t be wrong, I do play favorites.”

He watches as your eyes flash going slightly wider than before, showing the way the words register in your mind. The smile that breaks onto his face at your reaction is one he knows he hasn’t had in a while, a happy, yet teasing lilt to his lips. 

“What exactly is that supposed to imply?” You ask him as he hears your breath seem to catch in your throat. Slowly Xaden brings himself to stand flush next to the bed you’re still laying in. 

“I think you know exactly what I’m implying.” Ever the confident man, Xaden can’t help but tease you a little at your question. He watches as the annoyed look is now firmly planted on your face due to his ever-elusive responses.

“Please enlighten me, dear Wingleader Riorson. Besides, how am I going to compete with your bonded first year who has made her obvious attractions for you widely known.” Now it’s Xaden’s turn for shock to plaster across his face, its almost as if he’d forgotten how you could give as good as he could.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He says hoping that he can escape the daunting topic that is Violet Sorrengail.

The knowing look that you give him does the exact opposite than reassure him. Xaden knew he couldn’t deny Violet’s penchant for looking at him as if he was the hottest man alive. Hell, he knew he even had stoked her attraction on several occasions, making a saddle, sparring with her constantly, and crafting daggers for her. The worst mistake of all was kissing her and thinking of it he can’t help but shake his head with regret.

For the first time, he’s unsure how to proceed. Four days ago, he didn’t even realize he had feelings for you and now he’s trying to convince you. The bravado he had just moments ago seemed to have completely vanished, just like shadows in the noon day sun.  

“Her infatuation is just that. Infatuation.” Xaden says firmly, although he’s unsure if he can even convince himself of that.

The raise of your brow shows him that you know that he’s trying to convince the both of you. 

“Regardless.” Xaden can’t help saying with finality. “That may be her feelings, and I’m sorry if I hurt her, but I don’t return the sentiment.”

Xaden can feel his heart picking up speed in his chest as he waits for you to say something in return. 

Anything.

The moments seem to tick by; a never-ending echo of the clock in the background the only thing that dares to break the silence. Xaden watches as your eyes seem to bore through him as if seeing through every mask he’s ever worn, every secret he’s ever told.

Without saying anything he watches as you rise on your elbows and move to swing your feet to the side of the bed. Your continued silence doing nothing to help the gnawing at his gut that you’re lost to him before he ever even had a chance with you.

Xaden immediately is at your side grasping your waist after you let out a hiss at trying to stand up from the bed.

“Thank you.” You whisper through clenched teeth. Xaden knows that he shouldn’t be waiting on your response, but it feels to him as if everything is still suspended in mid-air waiting for your confirmation or denial. 

As Xaden feels himself beginning to brood, trying to keep the despair that you don’t care for him, he completely misses the way that you begin to turn yourself in his arms.

It isn’t until both of your arms snake around his waist and you bury your head in the crook of his neck that he realizes he may be spiraling for no reason.

‘Do calm down your emotions, your thoughts are more erratic than when we are in battle.’ Sgaeyl claps at him breaking his spiraling thoughts completely.

“If you’re going to play favorites, I’m going to need you to make your claim clear.” Xaden looks down at you as you bring your face up to look him in the eyes.

Xaden brings his hand up to your jaw, cupping your cheek and tilting your head so he can see the gleam in your beautiful eyes.

“Oh Love, don’t you worry about that. I intend to make sure that everyone in the quadrant knows you’re my favorite.” Xaden teases while bringing his nose to rest on yours, all the while memorizing every fleck in your eyes. 

The answering smirk on your lips is all the confirmation he needs before he brushes his lips against yours, tentatively at first. The way you immediately respond and arch into his touch makes his eyes flash and a groan leave his lips. Xaden can’t believe the way your kiss is searing into his skin, the feeling of you drowning him like no one ever had before.

He immediately deepens the kiss grabbing you firmly at the nape of your neck drawing your face even closer. Your answering moan causing his blood to heat and desire to begin coiling around his entire frame. Breaking the kiss, he leans his forehead against yours trying to calm his breathing. 

“Well then.” You say to him, your breathing still a little rapid. “I guess it’s time for you to show everyone who your real favorite is.”

Xaden gives you a knowing smile before grasping your hand and wrapping his arm around your waist, leading you back to the riders quadrant. There is no doubt in his mind that you are just like chocolate cake – one of his favorite things he’ll never tire of.

Divider: @firefly-graphics

[hysteria-things]

Reverse countertop scenario where instead of you getting eaten out while seated on the countertop, Matt gets sucked off 🫣

TEMPTATION (part one)

𝐃𝐈𝐋𝐅!𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dilf!matt x babysitter!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: one heated moment crosses between you and forbidden desire.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUT, swearing, slight size kink if you squint, oral (male receiving), subtle face slapping (he taps her on the cheek once), praising

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2,766

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: first dilf!matt fic of the collection :D

(dilf!matt au originally by @luvs4matt)

you’ve met matt through one of your mom’s work friends, who was talking about how her son needed a babysitter because of how busy his work has gotten. against your will, your mother gave you the job, saying that it’ll be a fun and new experience.

because you like kids, you genuinely didn’t mind. you’ve only been nannying for a few weeks now, and the routine isn’t that bad.

you drive to his house every weekday, arriving at seven on the dot. you wake up his five-year-old daughter (who is already fond of you) and make her breakfast along with getting her ready to drop her off at school.

she’s a cutie who looks a lot like her father—with his blue eyes and brunette hair—but she has a bubblier personality and is much more talkative. on the other hand, matt keeps to himself, and rarely says more than three sentences to you: “good morning.” “don’t forget to pack her lunch.” “see you later.”

on this particular day, a couple of hours after dropping his little girl off, you realized you had forgotten something at matt’s house. cursing to yourself when you notice, you drive back to sleuth your way into grabbing what you left and leaving.

however, when you walk through the door, a familiar figure is kneeling in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up to reveal his tattoos and grunting as he’s fixing something under the sink.

you pause, genuinely surprised. he always leaves for work when you arrive at his place at your scheduled time. today, he hid from you upstairs the whole morning that you didn’t even acknowledge he was home. you stare at the gruff thirty-year-old for a few beats, not knowing if you should make yourself known or just sneakily retrieve your item and head back out.

so, instead, you swallow a lump in your throat, and start walking slowly to the living room hoping he doesn’t notice you. with the short weeks that you’ve been working for him, you’ve always felt intimidated by his presence. matt doesn't immediately catch on, but as he listens to footsteps getting closer to him, he perks up. he turns around, just in time to see you starting to walk toward the living room.

he raises a brow, his arms now crossed. “i thought you left already.”

jolting from his voice, you turn around to see him still in the kitchen by the island, but he’s gotten closer to you. “i-i forgot my wallet.” you stutter, scratching the back of your neck. “i’m sorry. i’ll get out of your hair when i grab it, i just didn’t know you stayed home today.”

he eyes you, looking up and down in silence for a second. he lets out a groan, not exactly happy that you're back here, but he's not angry. just… annoyed. “when did you realize you forgot your wallet?”

your face burns up when he looks at you like that, his eyes mesmerizing but also frightening at the same time. your anxiety rushes through your veins, fingers playing with the necklace around your neck to try and calm your nerves.

he’s just so intimidating.

“after i dropped evelyn off at school, but i didn’t have time to grab it until now.” you start, trying to not sound shaky. “she had a rough morning getting ready today, so i was scattering my stuff everywhere trying to help her get back on her little feet. i’m sorry again. i’ll leave the moment i grab it.”

matt lets out a frustrated sigh when he hears about his daughter having a morning like that. “i thought i heard the commotion from upstairs…” he trails off. he takes a moment to breathe and to think, looking you up and down again, trying to figure out why you're shaking. “you're nervous.”

“it was a weird morning.” you still fiddle with your necklace. “other than her tantrum, she was good.”

a huff escapes from his nose, still looking at your figure as he thinks. you’re so damn small compared to him. it's almost adorable in a way he won't admit to himself. “she had a tantrum this morning? why? what started it?”

looking around the room, you shrug. “it was typical friday stuff.” you say, still nervous that you’re talking to matt rather than hearing three sentences from him. “she didn’t want to get out of bed, then she didn’t like the clothes i picked, whined about how she didn’t want to go to school, then she started crying when i carried her backpack to the car when she wanted to carry it.” you think back to this morning before continuing. “we were also running late and that makes my brain a mess, hence why i forgot my wallet, but after a small pep talk when i strapped her into her car seat, she got better.”

the man nods as you explain the events from earlier. you were pretty, in his opinion—he was looking at you from head to toe. a thought seems to hit him, and he bites the inside of his cheek. his next sentence comes out in a much more gruff tone. “come here.”

your eyes grow wide as you blink at him, your heart rate picking up from nerves. “w-what?” you stammer.

letting out a soft sigh, he repeats himself. “you heard me. come. here.”

when you slowly start to walk over to him, you rub the sweat from your palms onto your jeans. you don’t get too close, but you’re not too far, either. he watches as you walk over, his eyes not leaving your body. the thought that he could easily pick you up with one arm in an instant makes him laugh internally. you stop about a foot or so in front of him, standing there with wide eyes. “closer.”

you put your shaky hands behind your back, shuffling even closer to him with a million thoughts running through your brain. did you do something wrong with evelyn? did you forget something important that you needed to bring to school for her? are you going to be fired for forgetting your stupid wallet?

matt’s eyes dart all over your face as you step closer, his jaw clenching for a moment as his eyes linger on yours, then your hair, your nose, your mouth, then your body again. you are so small. it’s very clear with the way you’re shaking and the anxiety clear on your face that you are nervous. “closer.” he says again, his eyes flicking to your necklace for a moment.

smirk tugs at his lips as you step closer, his eyes locked onto you. you’re now standing directly in front of him as he leans on the counter, his height is much more intimidating up close, but you can’t make yourself pull away. it’s like he has a magnetic pull, causing you to stare at him with awe.

he watches your every move and the way you tremble. “you’re shaking.”

“i-i just want to grab my wallet. if i interrupted something important, i’m sorry, it won’t happen again.”

the chuckle in his throat is ticklish as you struggle to get any words out. “take a deep breath. calm down.”

surprised by what he said, you somehow listen and take a couple of deep breaths. well, he is the father to a toddler, after all. you’re sure he deals with a lot of temper tantrums that involve guidance in breathing. after a few inhales and exhales, you calm down just a smidge. “i’m sorry.”

matt watches as you finally start calming down, a slight sense of satisfaction washing over him as you do. he’s not exactly sure why, but he liked watching your shaky body slowly come together again. “you don’t need to keep apologizing, y/n.”

“sorry.” you reply, mentally punching yourself in the face when you say the word. “it’s a habit.”

although, your name rolling off of his tongue has between your legs tingle, but you try to blink away the dirty thoughts and ignore it.

he scoffs. you are so damn polite; it’s almost cute. “stop apologizing.” he orders, bringing his hand up to cup your cheek, his brows furrowing as his thumb grazes your lip. “how old did you say you are again?”

your breath hitches when he touches you, but instead of backing away, you stay put. your lashes bat in his direction as he continues to rub on your bottom lip. “twenty-one.” you exhale, as if you were holding your breath this entire time.

“you’re such a pretty young thing.” he whispers, hand moving down to your throat as he gently kneads at the flesh. “you must be so innocent still.”

grunting when he squeezes at your neck, you subconsciously glance down at his groin, where you can see his growing hard-on. your eyes widen, chest heaving and licking your lips. the pooling in the middle of your thighs only escalates, clenching them together.

this is your boss, y/n. stop.

“do you trust me?” he blurts out, a smirk growing wider once he notices you staring. he has you right where he wants you: at his mercy.

“yes.” and that’s true.

he grabs your hips and pulls you closer, leaning into where your noses are touching. “lift your leg.”

complying, his hand reaches under your thigh when you raise your leg to rest on his hips. you gasp, feeling his bulge rub against your clothed clit. he grinds against you swiftly. “you feel that? that’s what you do to me; every single time i see you.”

“fuck.” you exhale, subconsciously rutting your hips more into him to feel more friction.

“dirty girl.” he whispers, one of his hands reaching up to squeeze your breast while the other that’s resting on your thigh moves to the waistband of your pants. “do you want me to touch you here?”

you throw your head back, nipples peeking at his touch. “please.”

matt groans, leaning down to nip at that spot below your ear. a high-pitched whine leaves your lips, his fingers slipping under your panties. the pad of his pointer rubs at your bud, and you moan softly. he keeps leaving wet kisses on your jaw, toying at your clit. “so fucking wet.”

you keep moaning, clenching around nothing when he plays with you faster. this plus the rubbing of his dick against you makes you want more, but you fight it off. he removes his hand after a few seconds, leaving you aching before bringing his fingers to his lips. he laps at your juices, humming approvingly.

then, his eyes darken, voice extra demanding. “get on your knees.”

while you’re getting on your knees, the pumping of your heart is the only thing you seem to hear, matt starting to unbuckle the belt of his jeans. as you patiently wait, he unloosens it and his pants drop to his ankles along with his boxers. your mouth waters at what’s in front of you, being put under matt’s make-believe spell. he’s big—really big—and you can’t help but stare at it longingly.

tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, he smiles a genuine smile. “open your mouth; good girl.” he cups both of your cheeks, sliding his cock agonizingly slow between your lips. he lets out a long groan the more his inches fill your mouth until you gag once his tip nudges at the back of your throat.

“awe.” he coos, wiping some drool at the sides of your lips with his thumb. “that’s not even all of it.”

you bob your head, moaning around his length at how good he feels in your mouth. slurps and gags continue when you go faster.

he grunts and hisses at your sudden change of speed. “ah, slow, slow.” he fists your hair and taps you on the cheek, causing you to wince and stop. “i said slow.”

matt hasn’t had his dick sucked since his ex, which had to have been over a year ago. hell, he hasn’t had sex since her. he was getting sick of his hand doing the pleasure for him, but the warmth of your mouth is a reminder that you’re here.

your eyes tear up when he lets go of your hair, the stinging there for a few seconds before you move again, this time at the slow pace he requested. he nudges your head up, forcing you to look at him through your lashes as you resume to suck him off.

“that’s it.” he exhales with a moan, back pinned against the countertop. “good girl, listening to everything i say.”

he licks his teeth as he stares down at you, your doe eyes going into his soul as you’re stuffed full with his cock. if only he had his phone nearby, he would take a picture of this.

it’s quiet, except for his groaning and the wet sounds. his mouth is agape, his dick disappearing in and out of those plump lips. deep down, he thinks he’s using you to get off, but little does he know, you wanted this as much as he did. it’s like he wants this image engraved into his mind forever.

without even realizing it, you start to bob your head faster again, gulping more of his cock in the process.

“mmph, fuck, wait.” he pants, voice getting higher when his dick twitches. “s-slow down. slow, slow—” he lets out a long groan, grabbing the back of your head to move it down to his pelvis. you gag for the last time, his cum shooting down your throat all at once. you relax your jaw, making his seed easier to swallow. “so fucking good. such a good girl.” he pants again.

when he pushes you off, you cough as you try to catch your breath from being able to breathe again. matt’s still looking at you, but this time with his original stone-cold demeanor. his eyes flick over to the stove clock. “it’s 2:45 now. you should probably start getting ready to grab evelyn soon.”

with that, he pulls up his undergarments, zips them, and walks away.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ❦ ⋆⁺₊⋆

matt’s seen walking towards the front door through the window of the white picket-fenced home when you park the car, and you take a shaky exhale. seeing him after what happened makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand, but you don’t know if it’s in a good or bad way.

because, well, you enjoyed what you two did. a lot.

after another short breath, you get out of the driver's seat to open the back door. avoiding matt forever is impossible, so you’ll just have to toughen up and deal with it.

evelyn’s kicking excitedly, the top straps unbuckled already when you reach to undo the bottom half of her car seat. just as she hops down onto the driveway, the front door opens as if on queue.

of course, she leaves her backpack and the little mermaid water bottle behind as she bolts to her father. “daddy! daddy!” you hear her squeal excitedly, closing and locking the car doors once you grab her school stuff.

matt scoops up evelyn with ease and kisses her on the head. he smiles down at his daughter, asking her a whole bunch of questions about the school day. he nods and pipes in here and there to keep the conversation flowing as his little girl rambles on. you notice how matt gets when he sees evelyn, and his demeanor completely changes. he’s happy and engaged, eyes showing the love he has for her. it’s so fucking adorable.

“what do you want for dinner, missy?” matt asks, adjusting her in his arms when she starts to slip.

you silently watch the interaction, not wanting to ruin their moment as evelyn brings her finger up to her chin to think. it takes her a few seconds, but she says something along the lines of ‘the dinner of champions.’

“dino nuggets and mac and cheese?” he questions with a quirked brow. “but you had that last night.”

evelyn puts her hands together and pouts, giving him the best puppy dog eyes she can muster. unfortunately for her father, that trick will always work on him.

he sighs, setting her down. “i suppose so…”

“can y/n stay for dinner?” evelyn tugs at matt’s pants as she pleads. “pretty please?”

you hesitate with your answer, because you don’t know what’s in store if you stay longer than usual. “oh, i don’t—”

“you should.” matt quirks a brow, turning to face you. “it will be fun, yeah?”

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @moncherriis @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @mattslolita @sturnbaby @mattgirl4lyfe @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @raysmayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @tworosesblackthorn @gnxosblog @junnniiieee07 @flowerxbunnie @imaslut4kehlani @sturniolosandmoree @hearrtsturns @freshsturns @etershine @sukiipjs @h3arts4harry @sturnioloblogs @creamoncreamoncream2 @ivyyyyyysposts @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @mbsbaby @mattsdollie @thesturniolos @nononopenono1 @bitchydragonparadise @hrt-attack @dwntwn-strnlo @venusbabysblog @meerkatzthings @bernardsbendystraws @hoes4matthew @sturnsmadl @starz4star

[dinogoofymutated]

ik you just wrote for Kurt but if I could request some sfw headcanons for him? 👉🏽👈🏽 he'd be such a cuddly man especially with that tail of his

Sfw! Nightcrawler/GN!Reader

YES OFC!!! I was just thinking about this !! With how cuddly he was in the latest episode it had me all giddy and shit AAUGHH!! THIS MAN!!!

I also may or may not have gotten carried away with the fic half of this because I'm actually in love with him.

-Ps- @bl1ngringz You sent an ask for more Kurt, and I'm working on more but I figured I'd tag you in this one!

TWs: none that I can think of atm.

Touch is 100% one of Kurt’s love languages. If you're close to him, he's going to be touching you in one way or another

He really likes to wrap his tail around your waist to pull you closer to him, and it's always surprising because how is his tail that strong?? The sensation of his tail being wrapped around you in one shape or form starts to become such a comforting sensation.

If you're anxious and picking and your fingers in a social situation, he'll take hold of your hand and press a kiss to your palm, and if you're less comfortable with pda, he'll snake his tail in between your hands instead. Afterwards he always checks your hands and cuticles, just in case.

Sometimes he'll have really rough days and will just really need you to hold him. He'll teleport you out of your office if he feels like you've been gone too long and he starts to worry about you. It's surprising at first, but you quickly get over it when the furball snuggles into you, quietly pouting about how long you've been gone. It's easy to tell other things are on his mind, but you know he enjoys the silence when you choose not to press him, and simply hold him tightly.

Kurt isn't just a cuddle bug. He's a cuddle MONSTER. On the couch? He'll plop down on top of you, falling asleep on you like a cat who only ever manages to fall asleep right when you need to pee. In bed? Again, no pee breaks. He usually has such a tight grip on you, only able to fall asleep buried in your arms. It doesn't matter how hot it is, if you roll away he'll feel bad. He knows you don't hate him and that you're just moving in your sleep but :( come back. He can't sleep without you!

You wouldn’t consider yourself a morning person, but sometimes you’d wake up and simply be too restless to fall back asleep. Sometimes it was anxiety, other times excitement, but today you woke up simply content. Kurt’s arms were wrapped around you loosely, which was a surprise. He’s normally fully wrapped around you, limbs tangled tightly with your own, tail wound around your wrist, ankle, or hand in his sleep. You smile as you turn around, brushing hair out of his face. He doesn’t even stir, nor lean into the warmth of your hand. You’d be freaking out if it weren’t for his steady breathing, but the two of you had a rough couple of days. If he’s sleeping this deeply, he deserves the rest.

It’s easy to slide out of his arms, quietly padding out of the bedroom barefooted. You flinch when you reach the cold wood floors of the hallway, early spring still inconsistent with its bouts of cold weather. After quietly closing the door, you make your way to the living room on the search for a pair of slippers. You had a bad habit of losing them, sometimes stealing Kurt’s instead, but you find yours set aside neatly. You smile as you slip them on, knowing that you most certainly weren’t the one who put them there.

It’s still dark outside when you start to preheat the oven, and you know you must be up way too early. You laugh a little, with how early Kurt tends to rise, you can only imagine the time. You glance at the oven clock and notice it’s a little after 5 am. You grimace just a little, deciding to ignore it for now. Might as well make breakfast.

You feel like you’ve forgotten how to make breakfast food. Kurt always manages to beat you to it, waking you up in the morning with the smell of coffee and baked goods. You used to feel bad about it, telling him that he didn’t have to. That he didn’t have to go through with the effort. You felt guilty about such a simple thing, feeling like an inconvenience to him. That feeling didn’t last long, however. Kurt had insisted that you were worth the effort, worth his love, and much more. You don’t fight him on it anymore, having taken over lunch preparations instead. He still tries to beat you to that too, though. It’s become a competition as of late, and you smile in a giddy manner, excited to see his pout when he realizes you managed to beat him to breakfast.

    The sun has risen by the time you’ve finished the biscuits and set them out to cool. You’re scrambling some eggs when a tail wraps around your waist and a warm chest presses against your back. Kurt nuzzles into your shoulder, pressing a chaste kiss to the skin. 

    “Guten morgen.” His morning voice is groggy, and to be honest, he sounds like he’s about to fall back asleep right here in the kitchen, holding onto you like a pillow.

“Good morning,” You giggle, turning your head to kiss him sweetly. He’s pouting when you pull away, leaning his cheek on your shoulder.

“You weren’t in bed when I woke up.” Kurt mopes. You mimic his pout with a poorly hidden smile, kissing him a few more times. They were chaste, as you didn't want to get distracted and burn the eggs.

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t sleep, and I didn't want to wake you up.” You turn your attention back to the eggs in the pan, and Kurt sighs dramatically at your words, beginning to smile a bit himself. You see an arm sneakily reach over to take the spatula out of your hands, but you’re quick to hold it away from him. He smiles widely when he’s caught, pulling you flush to his chest as he tries to snatch it again with his other hand.

“No!” You giggle. “Kurt, stop it! I’m not letting you finish the eggs!” You may have the willpower to keep the spatula away, but Kurt still has the upper hand with longer arms and an extra limb. His laughs are infectious and he fights you for the utensil.

“Penance, then! For leaving me in a cold bed, I could have gotten sick, you know?” You gasp as Kurt manages to slip the spatula from your grasp. He rejoices in victory, holding it above your head as he turns back to the eggs. He kisses you on the cheek, holding you squarely in his grasp as he finishes breakfast for you, as he always does.

Today was a good morning indeed.

[rafeskai]

Life as We Know It — Rafe Cameron

Chapter Two

Two opposites must navigate love, loss, and unexpected parenthood to discover the meaning of family.

Summary: When tragedy strikes, two very different individuals find their lives unexpectedly intertwined as they become the guardians of an orphaned child. As they navigate the challenges of co-parenting, balancing careers, and confronting their pasts, they discover that family can form in the most surprising ways. Through heartfelt moments and unexpected humor, they explore what it means to build a life together—one step at a time.

Pairings: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Character deaths & angst.

Author's Notes: Inspired by the movie "Life as We Know It"!

Masterlist: Here

It had been three days since you’d found yourself in Rafe’s house, a place that now felt more like a cage than a refuge. You hadn’t had much time to adjust to the new reality. Between the funeral, the endless meetings with lawyers and child services, and the sudden responsibility of Willa, everything seemed to blur together in a haze of exhaustion.

You had told yourself you’d stay at the house more often, that you’d help Rafe get into a routine with Willa, but the sheer weight of everything had left you in a constant state of uncertainty. It wasn’t just that you were suddenly her guardian, it was that you were also navigating a delicate, complicated dynamic with Rafe. Every time you thought you had a handle on things, another obstacle seemed to rise up in front of you.

But life didn’t stop, and the bills still needed to be paid. So, you found yourself at the local café by 7 a.m. every morning, working the early shift as if it were a lifeline to some semblance of normalcy. The smell of fresh coffee and pastries helped ground you, a comfort amidst the chaos.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

That morning, you found yourself staring blankly at the coffee machine, lost in thought as you tried to get a fresh batch brewing. Willa’s laugh echoed in your mind, that small, joyful sound she’d made when you’d managed to make her smile that morning at Rafe’s house. But then there was Rafe—his disheveled hair, his barely-contained frustration as he tried to make breakfast, as if he were a stranger in his own life.

You shook the thoughts away, focusing on the task at hand. You couldn’t afford distractions right now.

"Hey, [Y/N], you okay?" Jess, your co-worker, asked as she slid into the back room, eyeing you with concern. Jess had been your friend since you started working at the café, and while she wasn’t a mind reader, she could always tell when something was off.

You nodded quickly, putting a smile on your face. "Yeah, just a little tired. You know how it is."

She raised an eyebrow, but didn’t press further. "Well, the morning rush is about to hit, and we’re already behind, so I’ll let you catch up. Just take it easy when you can, alright?"

You offered a grateful smile, trying to ignore the tightness in your chest. Jess had a way of reading you, and the last thing you wanted was to let her know the extent of what you were juggling.

The morning rush came and went, the familiar frenzy of orders, refills, and people coming and going. By noon, the crowd thinned, and you finally got a break. You slipped into the back room, sitting on one of the crates as you checked your phone, hoping for a distraction.

You had a few missed texts, mostly from Sarah’s family offering condolences, a few work-related messages, and then... one from Rafe.

Can you come over tonight? Willa’s been fussy all day. I can’t figure out what she wants.

You stared at the message for a moment, your thumb hovering over the screen. You’d been trying to keep your distance from Rafe, only coming over when absolutely necessary, and still, he was asking for help. He hadn’t exactly been forthcoming with his emotions, but there was something about the way he’d written this message that gave you pause.

You knew it wasn’t just about Willa—it never had been. There was still tension between you and Rafe, an unspoken rift that neither of you had quite figured out how to cross. Yet, here he was, reaching out.

You sighed, rubbing your temples. You’d been trying to balance it all—work, helping Rafe, and processing the grief that seemed to be dragging you under—but it wasn’t easy. You needed to be there for Willa, but you also needed to keep your job, and your sanity.

After a moment of contemplation, you typed out a reply. I’ll be there around six. I can stay for a few hours.

You didn’t know what you expected, but you sure as hell didn’t expect the quick response. 

Thanks. I’ll make dinner. She’s been restless.

You felt a strange knot form in your stomach at the offer. Dinner? From Rafe Cameron? A part of you wanted to laugh, but another part—an irrational, confusing part—wondered if this was his way of trying to do something right, for once.

The rest of your shift passed in a blur. You tried to focus on the coffee orders and the chatter of the customers, but all you could think about was Rafe and the odd, fragile dynamic that had begun to take root.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

By the time you pulled into Rafe’s driveway later that evening, you could feel the exhaustion settling deep into your bones. But Willa needed you, and whether or not you wanted to admit it, Rafe did, too.

You took a deep breath before getting out of your car, trying to mentally prepare yourself for whatever awaited inside.

The house looked even bigger at night, the lights from the interior casting long shadows across the front yard. As you walked up the stone path, you noticed the faint scent of something cooking—garlic, herbs... something surprisingly warm and inviting.

When you stepped inside, the familiar coldness of the house hit you, but this time, there was something different. The warmth of a home-cooked meal filled the air, and for the briefest moment, it almost felt like things could be normal again.

Rafe was in the kitchen, his sleeves rolled up as he stood over the stove. He looked up when you entered, a slight tension in his posture as if he was still waiting for you to call him out on some unseen mistake.

“Hey,” you said quietly, watching him carefully. “Dinner smells good.”

He nodded, but didn’t meet your eyes. “It’s nothing fancy. Just pasta, I—uh, thought it might help if she had something warm.” His voice faltered, just a little, but he quickly recovered.

You glanced over at Willa, who was in her high chair, her small hands gripping the edge of the tray as she watched Rafe. She looked so small in the expansive room, and the sight hit you in a way you weren’t prepared for.

You walked over to her, gently picking her up from the chair. “Hey, little one,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

Rafe turned away from the stove, his hands gripping the counter as he stared down at the floor. "I don't know what I'm doing. She won’t stop crying, and I... I don’t get it."

You felt a pang of sympathy, despite everything. You moved toward him, your voice soft. “It’s okay. You’re doing fine. It’s all new for both of us. You don’t have to have all the answers.”

Rafe looked up at you, his expression tense but vulnerable. "Yeah. I guess I just... I want to do right by her. I don’t want to screw this up."

You nodded, the weight of his words sinking in. 

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The sound of Willa’s cries echoed through the vast kitchen, filling the space with a noise that felt almost too loud for the house. She was tiny, yet her cries were fierce, relentless. It had been over an hour, and you were beginning to feel like you were running out of options. You had tried everything.

You’d fed her, changed her, rocked her. But no matter what you did, she wouldn’t stop. Willa’s little fists clenched and her body writhed in your arms, the tears never slowing, never quieting.

“Come on, Willa,” you muttered, trying to soothe her with the kind of gentle rocking you’d seen Sarah do a million times. But nothing worked. You glanced over at Rafe, who was standing across the kitchen with his arms crossed, looking both helpless and frustrated.

“I don’t get it,” he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his already messy hair. “Why the hell won’t she stop?”

You didn’t have an answer. Honestly, you didn’t know why she was crying, either. She had been fine all afternoon, playing with her toys, laughing when you made funny faces at her. But now, she was inconsolable, and it was starting to tear at your patience—and Rafe’s too.

You rocked Willa more gently, trying to keep calm. "I don’t know," you said softly, your voice low and soothing. “Maybe it’s... something else. She could be tired, or maybe she’s just upset. Babies have their moods.” You spoke from experience, but your words felt thin in the moment. You hadn’t expected to be thrown into this role, and you were starting to feel every bit of the weight of it.

Rafe glanced at you, his brow furrowing. “Do you think she’s sick?” he asked, his voice laced with genuine concern.

You shook your head. "I don't think so... I mean, she doesn’t have a fever. Maybe it's just... a bad moment." You were doing your best to sound confident, but even you didn’t believe the words you were saying.

Willa’s cries intensified, her tiny body wriggling in your arms, making it even harder to calm her. Your chest tightened with frustration, helplessness. It was hard enough to balance everything with the weight of the situation, but right now? You felt completely out of your depth.

“I don’t know what else to do,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. You looked over at Rafe, who hadn’t moved an inch since you started holding Willa. His face was tight, his eyes narrowed in frustration, but there was something else there, too—something you hadn’t expected: vulnerability.

He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it. After a few more seconds of Willa’s crying, he finally broke the silence.

“Maybe I could try,” he offered, his voice a bit softer, tentative.

You were surprised at the offer. You’d never seen Rafe with kids—never even imagined him with a child this young. But there was something in the way he said it, a quiet desperation, that made you nod.

“Yeah. Try.” You handed Willa to him, careful not to jostle her too much as she continued to wail. She was still kicking her legs, her face scrunched up in distress.

Rafe hesitated for just a second before adjusting her in his arms, awkwardly holding her against his chest. His expression was uncertain, like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with this tiny person who was now his responsibility.

“Hey, Willa,” Rafe said softly, his voice surprisingly gentle. “It’s okay. You’re safe. We got you.”

He bounced her lightly, just enough to make her feel the rhythm of his movements. For a moment, nothing changed. Willa’s cries didn’t soften, but Rafe didn’t seem to mind. His focus was entirely on her, like he was determined to make it work.

You watched him for a moment, trying not to show your surprise. You didn’t think you’d ever see Rafe in this light. The way he moved, the way he spoke to Willa—there was something different in his tone, something real.

But the crying didn’t stop. Willa’s cries just seemed to escalate, as though she was testing him, testing you both.

Rafe gritted his teeth, adjusting his hold on her again, more firmly this time. “Alright, little one,” he muttered under his breath, his voice still trying to stay calm despite the rising frustration. "We’re gonna get this right. I swear."

He then shifted, trying a different approach, gently patting her back. He’d seen Sarah do it before, you knew, but it still felt foreign coming from him.

You, not sure what else to do, knelt beside him, trying to be as calm and soothing as possible. You placed a hand gently on Willa’s leg. “Shh… Willa, sweetie, it’s okay,” you cooed, matching Rafe’s rhythm.

And then, something unexpected happened. Slowly, gradually, Willa’s cries began to soften. Her body stopped wriggling as much, her little fists loosened. It wasn’t immediate, and it wasn’t magic, but her wails started to turn into quiet sobs, then sniffling, then, finally, she rested her head against Rafe’s chest.

You exhaled a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.

"See?" you said softly, your heart still racing. "I told you it was just a moment."

Rafe, his face still a bit tense but now with a faint trace of relief, looked down at Willa. Her eyelids fluttered as she finally, finally, drifted off to sleep.

“I don’t get it,” he said quietly, shaking his head. “I tried everything, but... she calms down when you do that. When we’re both here.”

You shrugged, feeling the exhaustion in your own body. “Sometimes... it just takes both of us. Babies are unpredictable.” You didn’t know what else to say, because, truth be told, you didn’t really understand it either. But you knew one thing for sure—despite your differences, despite the chaos, this was something you could do together.

Rafe shifted his weight, still holding Willa carefully. “Thanks,” he said quietly, as if he hadn’t just gone through a whirlwind of frustration. It was brief, but there was sincerity in his voice. “I didn’t think... I mean, I wasn’t sure I could handle this.”

You glanced up at him, and for the first time in a long time, you saw something different in his eyes—something that wasn’t defiance or anger, but something closer to gratitude.

“You’re not alone in this,” you said softly. “We’ll figure it out, one step at a time.”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The house had fallen into a strange stillness after Willa finally settled into bed, her little form bundled up in the crib, tucked in for the night. The hours of chaos, the endless crying, the uncertainty—it had all melted into a tense kind of quiet that felt almost too heavy to breathe through. You and Rafe were both exhausted, physically and emotionally, but the weight of the situation hadn’t lightened one bit.

You leaned against the counter in the kitchen, your fingers wrapped around a mug of warm tea, trying to find some semblance of calm. The silence was comforting in a way, but also suffocating. You and Rafe hadn’t exchanged many words since Willa had fallen asleep. There had been a brief moment where you’d both sat at the kitchen table, exhausted, sipping coffee in silence, but now it felt like the quiet was pressing in from all sides.

Rafe was standing by the window, his arms crossed, looking out into the darkened yard. He had been quiet for a while, but you could feel his presence like a weight in the room. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke.

"You know," he began, his voice low but firm. "I’ve been thinking. Maybe it would be better if you just moved in here."

You froze, your fingers tightening around the mug in your hands. "What?" You turned to face him, the surprise evident in your voice. "What are you talking about? Why would I—"

He cut you off, not giving you a chance to react. "Look, we’re both her guardians now, right? I get it—you have your life, your job, but you can’t keep going back and forth between here and the café. Willa needs us both, and we both need to be there for her."

You blinked, trying to process his words. "That’s... a huge thing to suggest, Rafe." You shook your head, stepping away from the counter, moving to the other side of the room. "You think it’s easy for me? You think I don’t have a life outside of this? I’ve got my job, my own responsibilities. I can’t just—move in here."

He turned, his gaze sharp as he watched you. "I’m not saying it would be permanent, but Willa... she’s not going to be okay if we’re both stressed out all the time. You’re already running yourself ragged. This way, you wouldn’t have to go back and forth. You could be here when she needs you, and you wouldn’t have to worry about missing shifts or running out of time."

You felt your pulse quicken, frustration creeping in. "You don’t get it, do you? It’s not just about time. This is my life, Rafe. I’m not just going to—what?—move in with you? Because that’s what you think is best?"

Rafe’s face hardened. "It’s not about what I think is best, [Y/N]. It’s about what Willa needs. You think it’s easy for me, either? I didn’t sign up for this. But here we are, and we both have to step up. We both have to make sacrifices."

Your breath hitched, your voice shaking with the weight of it all. "You think I haven’t thought about that? But this isn’t just about ‘stepping up,’ Rafe. This is about our lives. You can’t just dictate how things are going to work because you suddenly want to play house. I’m not some—"

"Not some what?" he snapped, cutting you off, his jaw tightening as his temper flared. "You think I’m asking for you to live with me because it’s some great idea? I’m trying to help you. You can’t keep doing this alone, and neither can I."

You felt a sting of anger rise in your chest, the frustration of everything spilling out. "I don’t need you to help me, Rafe. I don’t need you to fix everything. I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t ask for any of this!"

There was a long, painful silence that hung between you both, a tension that had been building ever since that damn phone call, and now, it seemed like it might tear everything apart.

Rafe exhaled sharply, his shoulders sagging slightly as the heat of his anger cooled into something more complicated, more raw. "I’m not trying to fix everything," he muttered, his voice quieter now, laced with frustration. "I’m just trying to do the right thing. I didn’t ask for any of this, either, but I can’t keep pretending it’s just going to work if we’re both barely holding on. You need help. I need help."

Your heart ached at the words, and for a brief moment, you thought you saw the cracks in his armor, the vulnerability he tried so hard to hide. But you pushed it aside, unwilling to let the floodgates open.

"I don’t need you, Rafe," you repeated, more firmly now. "I need to figure out how to do this on my own. We’re both her guardians, but I’m not going to make this—whatever this is—worse by complicating it. I can’t just move in here and pretend like that makes everything better."

His face tightened, the walls going back up, the Rafe you knew slipping behind his defenses. "Fine," he said, his voice flat. "Then keep living your life. Keep juggling it all, and see how far that gets you."

You shook your head, your words coming out in a rush. "You think this is easy for me? You think I don’t care? I care, Rafe. But this isn’t just about what’s easiest for you, or me, or anyone else. It’s about Willa. And right now, she needs more than just two people fighting over what’s best for her. She needs stability. She needs peace."

Rafe was silent for a long moment, the tension still thick in the room. His eyes flickered to the hallway where Willa’s room was, the soft rise and fall of her tiny chest visible through the crack of the door. His face softened for just a fraction of a second, but then he steeled himself again.

"Yeah," he said, his voice quieter now, though there was still a trace of frustration. "She needs peace. And maybe you’re right. Maybe this isn’t the right call." He turned his back to you, his body tense as if he was still holding onto something you couldn’t see.

You felt your anger begin to ebb, replaced by a quiet weariness that settled deep in your chest. You wanted to argue more, to fight for your space, for your independence. But the truth was, Rafe’s idea, crazy as it seemed, did make some sense. And yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to agree.

You stayed silent, the space between you growing more and more uncomfortable, until Rafe finally broke the stillness.

"I guess we’ll just have to figure it out, huh?" he said, his voice distant.

You nodded, though you weren’t sure if you were agreeing with him—or just acknowledging the mess you’d both gotten into.

"Yeah," you whispered. "I guess so."

And for the first time in a long time, the silence between you both wasn’t just filled with tension. It was filled with uncertainty.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ 

It had been weeks since the argument, weeks since you and Rafe had first clashed over what was best for Willa, what was best for the two of you. You’d spent those weeks bouncing between your place, Rafe’s, and the café, and with each passing day, it was becoming more and more clear that you couldn’t keep it up. You were running on fumes, your mind spinning with the constant demands of work, the responsibilities of being Willa’s guardian, and the weight of your personal life crumbling under the strain.

You couldn’t do it anymore.

It was a quiet morning when you finally made the decision. The sun had barely risen, casting a soft, golden glow across the living room of your small house. You hadn’t been home in days, had barely slept in your own bed. Willa was still adjusting to the routine, and the nights at Rafe’s were becoming more frequent. The constant back and forth was wearing you down.

You stood at the kitchen counter, staring at the coffee mug in your hand, the warmth barely reaching you. It was still early, and the sound of Rafe’s truck hadn’t yet filtered through the house. But today, you had to make it right.

You had to admit you couldn’t juggle it all.

The idea of moving in had been haunting you for days, but admitting it was another thing entirely. Rafe’s offer wasn’t just about practicality—it was about more than that. About Willa, about what you and Rafe were going to have to become for her. You’d been resisting it, pushing it away because it felt like giving up control of your life. But you knew you couldn’t keep going on this way.

And so, you made your decision.

When Rafe finally walked through the front door a few hours later, his presence filled the space like it always did—big, heavy, almost too much to ignore. He didn’t say anything at first, just kicked off his boots and moved to the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water before leaning against the counter, his gaze flickering over to you.

“You good?” he asked, his voice low but not unkind.

You set your mug down, taking a deep breath before you spoke. “I’ve been thinking,” you said, your voice steady but with an undercurrent of hesitation. “And I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep bouncing between my place, yours, and work. It’s... it’s too much.”

Rafe’s brow furrowed slightly. “So what does that mean?”

You met his gaze, the weight of what you were about to say pressing down on you. “I’m going to move in. I can’t juggle all of this alone. But there are some conditions.”

Rafe tilted his head, his eyes narrowing just slightly in curiosity. “Conditions?” he echoed, a hint of skepticism in his voice. “Like what?”

You took a breath and laid it out, clear and firm. “First, I’m not giving up my job at the café. I need that. I need a space where I can breathe and do something for myself. I’m going to be there on my shifts, but I won’t be running myself into the ground. So, we need to find a rhythm that works. I can’t just be at home all day, every day. I have my own life, too.”

Rafe nodded slowly, processing the first part. “Okay. Makes sense.” He crossed his arms, waiting for the rest.

“Second,” you continued, your voice unwavering. “I’m not going to just be a ‘housewife’ or whatever. I need to be treated as an equal, I’m her legal guardian too, not some babysitter. I’ll help with Willa, but I can’t take on the full load. If we’re doing this, we’re both sharing it.”

Rafe didn’t argue with that. He gave a slight nod, the corners of his mouth twitching as if he were preparing for the next condition.

“And third,” you added, stepping forward, your gaze never leaving his. “We set some boundaries. This is for Willa. We’re doing this for her, but I’m not moving in here for any other reason. We need to keep things professional—for her sake. I’m not moving in here just to... make things weird.” You paused, feeling the tension rise between you. “If we’re doing this, it’s for Willa. Nothing more, nothing less.”

There was a long silence between you two as Rafe absorbed your words. He was silent for a moment, then exhaled through his nose, a sound of reluctant agreement. “Fair enough,” he said. “I can deal with that. We both need to be in this equally. No one person doing more than the other.” He glanced over at you, a little more seriously now. “And about the boundaries... I’m not trying to make this any more complicated than it has to be. I get it. You’re here to help with Willa, and I’m not going to make that weird.”

It was strange, the way things were shifting between you both. There was a subtle shift in his tone, something closer to understanding. As much as Rafe might have wanted to fight you on it, you knew he respected the fact that you were being clear about your limits.

“So, what now?” he asked, breaking the silence. “You move in today?”

You nodded. “Yeah. But, you’ll have to help me get my stuff together. I’m not just leaving everything behind, Rafe.” You allowed a small, almost imperceptible smile to tug at the corner of your lips. “You’re not getting off that easy.”

Rafe smirked, the tension breaking between you two for the first time in weeks. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll help. Just don’t expect me to pack your clothes.”

You laughed quietly, feeling the weight on your chest lift just a little. “I don’t need you to pack my clothes. I just need you to be... not a pain in the ass while I get settled in.”

Rafe raised an eyebrow. “No promises there.”

You shook your head, a soft chuckle escaping your lips. It was a step in the right direction, you told yourself. A step toward figuring out how to make this new life work.

Maybe it wasn’t going to be easy. Maybe it would take time, patience, and more compromises than you had ever imagined. But one thing was clear: you couldn’t do this on your own. And maybe, just maybe, with Rafe by your side, you could figure out what it meant to be a family, even if it wasn’t the family you’d ever expected.

With a deep breath, you took the first step.

"Alright," you said. "Let’s go get my stuff."

© 2024 rafeskai | All rights reserved. This fanfiction is a work of fiction inspired by characters from Outer Banks, and no part of it may be reproduced or distributed without permission.

[artaxlivs]

Which came first? The chicken or the scrambled eggs?

Rated E: Smut below the line, link to the Ao3 is here.

"Boy, you know I love you, right?" Uncle Wayne says gruffly over his favorite Garfield mug.

Oh jeez.

Eddie wracks his brain trying to figure out what Wayne's figured out this time. The drug deals? He'd thought they were both silently agreeing that they knew but wouldn't speak of those. The Upside Down? Nah, Eddie covered that pretty well, gave the same bullshit story the Feds did. Maybe something mundane like Eddie not doing his dishes?

That's an age-old argument right there.

Damn it.

"I know you do, old man," Eddie sighs, finally just deciding to take whatever it is on the chin. "Say what you wanna say."

There's a brief pause while Uncle Wayne must gather his thoughts - and the irrational swoop of Eddie's stomach over that is gonna give him nightmares because his abandonment issues are wide and deep - then Wayne clears his throat and says, "Whoever it is that you been leaving in your bedroom to sneak out after I fall asleep every morning...you can just invite him out for breakfast with us."

Eddie chokes on his own coffee. Well, sort of coffee - it's a lot of sugar and milk with a splash of coffee.

Not her. Him. They've never talked about it but Eddie knows Wayne has always had his suspicions. But he wasn't ready to have this conversation before the sun was even all the way up.

Before Eddie can finish coughing down his throatful of coffee, though, Wayne is shouting, "Eddie's boyfriend - you can come out and have some eggs if you want!"

A loud thump and the sound of someone obviously scrambling up from a bed comes from Eddie's room. "Yes, sir."  A muffled voice calls back.

Staring down the short hallway in horror, Eddie has a minor freak out. Okay - major freak out. But silently and quickly because...ohhhh this tangled web he’s woven for himself....

"Jesus Christ, Wayne." Eddie shakes his head before dropping it on the formica tabletop. He doesn't have to look up to know that Wayne is smiling that little smile that he gets when he proves that he's still smarter than Eddie is sneaky.

Wayne pulls open the fridge and gets the eggs back out, adding three more to the mixing bowl to whisk up.

Eddie still doesn't lift his head when Steve comes out of the bedroom because he just cannot bear to meet Steve's eyes. He eventually does look up, though, when he hears Wayne swear under his breath and nearly drop the frying pan.

"Ain't you the Harrington boy?" Wayne asks, looking a little dazed, obviously not expecting Steve Harrington to be standing barefoot, wearing one of Eddie's band T-shirts and a pair of his own sweats, in their tiny trailer kitchen, hastily shaping his hair into order as he reaches his hand out to shake.

"Yes, sir. And, um, I'd appreciate it if you kept that between us," Steve suddenly looks smaller, "for now, at least. I'm not sure what my dad...um, well." He worries his bottom lip and crosses his arms over his chest protectively, tucking his hands tight against his body. "I just - I don't think he'd approve. My - my dad."

Approve of what? Slumming it in a trailer park with a petty drug dealer? Because contrary to what Wayne thinks, Steve is not Eddie's boyfriend. They sleep together but not together. It's just for the nightmares. Sleeping alone sucks.

Wayne is nodding, though, the crease between his eyebrows the only thing giving away that he's upset about what he's hearing. Eddie's really not sure what he's thinking but he doesn't ask because maybe - just maybe - if no one asks anything specific, they can get out of this breakfast without Eddie being outed or any of them being embarrassed.

Because, contrary to Wayne’s assumption, Steve does not know that Eddie is gay. Or that the all night spooning they've been doing for weeks now is not as platonic for Eddie as it is for Steve. Eddie's not crossing any boundaries or anything creepy or anything, he's just...pining. It's fine. He'll get over it.

If they get through this breakfast without Eddie being outed, at least.

Steve, of course, offers to help but Wayne turns him down, nudges him toward the coffee pot to pour himself a mug instead. Which he does. Scoffing incredulously, Eddie gets up and swipes the mug from him, pouring it’s contents into Wayne's almost empty mug before setting it in the sink and taking out a clean plastic cup with a faded Charlie Brown & Linus on it.

"Sit." He tells Steve and reaches into the fridge for the orange juice he knows Steve prefers. He ignores the arched eyebrow Wayne aims at him. Mind your business, old man.

Breakfast is just scrambled eggs and toast. It's quick and not too heavy so Wayne can go to sleep after. It's always been the one meal they're guaranteed to have together. Even when most teenagers were sleeping in until ten am or noon, Eddie has always gotten up around 6:30 because Wayne's shift ends at six and he comes straight home and takes a shower, then they have breakfast together.

"So...Mr. Munson-" Steve starts after he swallows a drink of his juice and settles into one of the cracked vinyl chairs.

"Just Wayne, kid," Wayne insists gruffly, setting the pan of eggs down on a pot holder on the table.

"Oh - sorry," Steve says, letting his eyes fall away. It's weird, seeing him cowed by Wayne. Steve doesn't normally do that with adults. He's a charmer. He charms them all. Mrs. Wheeler would force Nancy to marry Steve if she could and Mrs. Henderson thinks that Steve is the second coming.

"Don't gotta be sorry...Steve. Just - call me Wayne." He comes back with a plate of toast. The butter and jam are already on the table. Eddie loads up his plate knowing Steve will do the polite thing and take less than him.

Clearing his throat, Steve nods, "Yes sir - W-Wayne." He stumbles over the first name but then keeps going - "I was just wondering...about the hats? And the mugs?" He looks around like he's taking them all in for the first time.

With a little smile, Wayne looks from the rows of hats and mugs to Steve and then back again. "Those are all Eddie." He doesn't elaborate but Steve's already nodding with a warm smile.

"I had a feeling." Steve nods again, slathering jam on a slice of toast. "Let me guess - this is him taking the joke way too far?"

The sound that comes out of Wayne can really only be called a chortle. There's nothing else that fits. Eddie is so glad his mouth was empty because it's like nothing he's ever heard from Wayne and he would have choked on his food. As it is, he makes a little offended squawk that they both ignore.

"Yup. You know him well I see." Wayne nods at Eddie but looks at Steve. "He got me this Garfield mug and a matching hat for his first Christmas here and I didn't want to disappoint him so I went a little overboard about how much I loved them. Wore the hat and used the mug religiously." He lifts the Garfield mug up for a sip and lifts an eyebrow at Eddie.

Steve knocks his knee against Eddie's under the table and when Eddie looks over at him, he’s smiling a fond smile at Eddie. He ducks his head to hide what he knows is a blush on his cheeks, letting Wayne and Steve steer the conversation where they want for the rest of the meal.

It’s not until they’re washing up and Wayne’s waved goodnight to them both, that Eddie speaks again. He bumps his hip into Steve’s as Steve finishes washing and rinsing the plastic cup and hands it over for Eddie to dry. “Sorry about that.”

Sliding the egg pan into the soapy water, Steve dries his hands off on a towel, leaving the pan to soak and turns to Eddie, hip propped against the counter. ‘For what?” Steve asks, confusion evident on his face.

He flounders for a moment, trying to find a way to steer Steve away from the flashing neon arrow pointing to Eddie that screams “GAY” without giving himself away if Steve hasn’t gotten that idea. “Um, just Wayne and your dad and - you know, all of this.” He waves his hand around in a general all encompassing circle to include the trailer, his life and Eddie himself.

“Do you want to kiss me?” Eddie is pretty sure Steve asks but it’s so unexpected that his brain almost comes to a screeching halt.

“W-what?”

“I asked,” Steve says, removing the scant foot of space between them by sliding along the edge of the counter, “if you wanted to kiss me?”

Eddie swallows, a lifetime of fear balled up in his throat. It has long since threatened to choke him but this time he pushes through it. Because dammit - he’s jumped into a lake and swam after 3 other teenagers he barely knew, he’s tromped through an alternate dimension, he’s played Metallica in hell and outran a horde of demon bats. He’s faced a fucking Lich with nothing but handmade weapons. He can do this. He can.

“Yes,” it’s barely a whisper and made through trembling lips but Steve hears it because he smiles, warm and soft and the next thing Eddie knows, their lips are pressed together and yes, yes, yes. Steve’s lips are just as warm and soft as his smile and just a little demanding as he pushes past Eddie’s and slips his tongue into Eddie’s mouth. 

Steve Harrington tastes like orange juice and possibilities. And before Eddie can decide what to do with that, Steve is dragging him down the hallway and back into his messy, unmade too small bed. He’s pressing Eddie down on his back and leaning over him to kiss him again. He’s rolling his hips against Eddie’s, brushing their hard cocks together in a way that makes Eddie’s toes curl.

And it feels like every night they laid here together, whispering into each other’s shoulders, every night they spent cocooned in safety, every brush of skin on skin was foreplay, was flirting, was courting - that all of it was a lead up to this moment where they could slip easily from friendship to something more.

Eager and keyed up, Eddie pushes Steve’s sweats down to his thighs, follows by shoving his own down as well. Copying Steve’s movement when he yanks off his shirt and then they’re skin to skin, dicks rubbing against each other as they both grind and chase their pleasure together. Steve shifts, putting his thigh between Eddie’s and cupping his ass to pull him forward and there it is, they’re slotted together just right. 

Eddie feels a little zing of pleasure up his back as he ruts against Steve. They haven’t stopped kissing long enough for Eddie to even moan Steve’s name but it’s fine, it’s great, he’s so close already, just a bit more, he’s almost there. He thrusts up and Steve squeezes his ass again, pushing their bodies together. His hand slips around, dipping  between Eddie’s cheeks, sliding one finger down his cleft until it presses against his hole where, sure, he has touched, but no one else has. Steve slipping just the tip of one finger into Eddie is enough to send him tumbling over the edge with a muffled shout.

Eddie’s still twitching through the aftershocks when Steve moves his hand back to Eddie’s hip, Steve holds him still so he can thrust into the sticky mess that Eddie’s made between them. “That was, fuck, so hot,” Steve swears before he clamps his mouth of Eddie’s again, pulling a whine from him just before Steve comes with his own shout swallowed up by Eddie’s mouth.

Slowly, their breathing returns to normal, the sweat cools on their skin and Steve languidly traces one finger through the mess as it starts to stick to Eddie’s treasure trail. Finally, when Eddie can think clearly again, he asks, “So I guess this means you’re not worried that Wayne thinks you’re my boyfriend?”

“Worried?” Steve grins up at him from where he’s resting his head on Eddie’s shoulder. “I think we should make him dinner before he goes to work as a thank you.” He rolls up, propping a hand on either side of Eddie’s chest to look down at him with a fond smile, “I mean, how long would we have lain next to each other in the dark waiting for the other one to make the first move?”

Going up on his elbows brings Eddie’s lips close enough to Steve for a kiss but he doesn't yet, he just stares up at him for a moment, then, with complete honesty, he tells Steve, “I’d have lain next to you for forever if I had to.”

Check it out on Ao3

[theorphicangel]

if there was one thing you hated, it was your roommate. Sukuna.

ever since you moved in it seemed that your roommate has had a vendetta against you. whether it was setting up the shower's temperature to be freezing cold when it was your turn or eating your leftovers or letting his dishes pile up in the sink or leave his laundry lying around, you knew one thing and one thing only.

you hated him.

so much so that you wouldn't even speak to him. whenever the two of you were in the kitchen for breakfast, the atmosphere would be dead silent. only the clinking of cutlery and the scraping of chairs could be heard, the two of you preferring to mindlessly scroll on social media rather than speak to each other.

you didn't really speak to sukuna unless necessary and it was the same vice versa.

until a random weekend came by and a little visitor came knocking on your door.

knock, knock.

'come in-'

your bedroom door is pushed open but hestantly at first almost as if the person outside is struggling.

expecting to see a figure, you're stunned when no one enters. you were sure to hear a knock and panic surges through your body at the idea of an intruder in your flat.

you're ready to hide until you glance down.

oh.

'sorry i thought this was the bathroom-'

a little boy, no older than what seems to be six years old is at your door. you've never seen him in his life but there's certain hints which help you figure out who he might be known to. that familiar pink hair and chubby cheeks help guide your guess that he's related to your one and only roommate.

'oh...' you lean back and swivel in your chair. you turn away from your open laptop and abandon your university work to give your full attention to the boy.

'sorry' the boy blushes, ready to head out. 'I'll leave-'

'are you sukuna's brother?' you interruption.

the boy shakes his head, his face getting redder by the second. 'he's my uncle.'

you nod silently. righttttt, that should make sense.

an awkward silence filled between the two of you. you're hesitant on what to say as the boy stands nervously in your room.

' he doesn't like you very much' he announces aloud.

you bite back a choke.

'how come?' you bite back any spite in your voice. it's not his fault, i mean, it doesn't take a genius to work out that you're not Sukuna's favourite person.

'my uncle says you stink and don't clean up after yourself.'

'maybe your uncle should have thought twice before putting up an advert for a roommate, he doesn't seem to get along with anyone.'

'he doesn't. he argues with my dad a lot.' the boy agrees.

'i bet.' you reply 'and he is the one that stinks not me. Have you smelt him after he goes to the gym, ugh' you fan a hand from your nose, implying a nasty smell.

Yuji laughs, dimples appearing on each corner of his cheek. It's hard to believe that the two were related. How could anything that shares Sukuna's blood be so sweet and cute.

'yuji!' a voice calls out. a voice you are all too familiar with.

ah, so that was his name.

'what did I tell you about going into other people's rooms without ask-' sukuna's voice comes to a halt once he realises you're also present.

'oh. you're home.'

'i am.'

Sukuna clears his throat at the low tone you address towards him. he introduces the little boy. 'this is yuji, my nephew.'

'nice to meet you, yuji' you smile. the boy smiles back with a light blush coming across his cheeks adding a shy wave.

soon enough an awkward silence appears between the three of you. sukuna and yuji stood awkwardly. it's not long before yuji decides to break the silence.

'wanna play uno with me?'

you and sukuna answer at the same time.

'no she doesn't'

'of course.'

Sukuna scowls, 'I'm making dinner for you, you brat so you can't play.'

'we can play whilst you cook for us.' you chime in.

Sukuna throws a glare straight at you. now you've gotten yuji's hopes up as his face lights up with excitement. 'us? there is no us? you little-'

'let's go Yuji,' you outstretch your hand as you stand. 'we can't let uncle sukuna play because he cheats and hides the cards in his bum'

'I do no-'

'do too!' you exclaim as yuji giggles loudly. you wink as you walk past grabbing Yuji's little hand.

you - 1

sukuna - nil

[commandershepardvasfuckit]

Teasing your monster husband into some morning sex

————

Your husband was always awake before you. Alway sitting at the lit hearth and making breakfast for you both. It was very sweet, but some mornings you really wished you could actually wake up with him. You had no idea how he was always able to get out of bed so quietly and never wake you.

This morning was no exception. He was already sitting at the hearth and preparing breakfast, softly humming to himself while he waited for you to wake up.

You took a moment to admire him, what was once monstrous was now quite attractive. The glow of the fire gently illuminated the sapphire tones of his skin, his dense, shaggy hair was still messy from sleep, the light occasionally catching on the gold bands on his tusks.

He looked up as he heard you moving around in bed, “Breakfast will be ready soon if you would like to join me.”

“Sure, just a moment. I just want to stretch a little, woke up pretty stiff” you lied. You had wished you woke up next to him so you could kiss his neck and tease him.

Coyly you tucked your legs under you and laid flat down on your thighs, a good stretch for the lower back. You peered over your see if you had his attention yet, though for the most part he was just still fussing over breakfast.

You lifted your butt into the air and stretched your arms out in front of you, making sure to wiggle about to get his attention, and your naked backside definitely seemed to do it.

He watched you with curiosity, trying to figure out if you were doing that on purpose or really just stretching. You did your best to dramatically stretch forward a bit more and raise your rear up farther.

It always amazed you how quickly and quietly he moved despite his size. Before you even registered that he had gotten up and was now kneeling behind you, his hands on your hips.

“So, I would take that this is an invitation?” he asked, you could hear how he was smiling as he spoke, the way his purring seeped into his voice.

You did not answer, but instead happily pressed back against him, enjoying how his erection felt against you.

“You get up too early” you teased him.

“Well, someone has to make breakfast here and I know it will not be you. Though if this is how you would prefer to spend your mornings then I have no complaints” his nails dug into your hips where he held you.

You felt his grip leave you and then him shifting around to get out of the pants he had probably only just put on. Moments later you felt as he rubbed his tip between your folds, sliding easily through the beginning of your wetness.

“I do not think you are ready yet” his voice was low in your ear.

You whined in protest, ready to feel how your husband’s thick cock filled you so perfectly and reached so impossibly deep.

His hand slipped between your thighs and quickly found your clit to rub circles, causing you to moan into where your face rested in the bed. He happily continued just slowly thrusting between your legs while he toyed with you.

It never took long with him, the anticipation of what was to come got you off nearly as much as him rubbing your clit. You let out soft whimpers as you came.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you mumbled, “You could have just gone for it.”

“No” his voice was firm, a discussion you had many times, “And before you argue again: I am still too big, or you are too small, and I do not want to hurt you.”

“You aren’t going to hurt me.”

“Maybe or maybe not, but I do not want to risk it still” he said firmly, letting you know that it was not up for discussion, “And anyways, I like it when you are needy and desperate.”

He leaned down over you, his chest pressed to your back. His breath was warm in your ear as he spoke “And I like it when you beg.”

Your knees almost gave out from his words. Your husband was a fairly mild mannered man, a caregiver and protector despite his fighting ability, and rarely ever was dominate with you.

“Please” you moaned.

“Please what? My love” he cooed back sweetly.

“Please fuck me.”

Your legs did give out as he slowly entered you and he wrapped an arm under you to keep you up. As much as you hated to admit it he was probably right with always insisting that you were already nice and relaxed beforehand.

His pace was steady, sheathing himself entirely before waiting a few moments for you to adjust. It was always difficult to remember to breathe at first, he was deep enough where you swore you could feel him in your chest practically.

His hand returned to your clit once he was certain you would not collapse, picking back up with rubbing circles against you. Every little touch sent tingles down your limbs.

You felt his tusks against either side of your neck as he buried his face into your hair. He dwarfed you entirely, caging you under him, not that you were complaining. His balls slapped against you with every thrust as he sped up. No matter how many times you slept together you never got used to his size in any sense.

“Cum for me, please” he urged you, the command in his voice slipping and becoming his usual needy whining.

It did not take much for you to finish, clenching around him while he kept dragging out every bit of pleasure he could from you.

He kept his fingers against your clit, enjoying how tightly you gripped him as he overstimulated you as his pace became erratic. With a few firm snaps of his hips you felt how his balls twitched against you as he came in you. How you felt hot cum fill your already overstretched cunt and drip out around his base.

“I think” he gasped, “Maybe I will start staying in bed for longer in the mornings.”

[bluesidez]

GymRat!Miguel Part 2

content warning: mentions of food because big boys gotta eat, there’s a ref photo for an outfit in here that is unfortunately NOT a plus-size girl 😞 (I couldn’t find a big girl wearing an outfit like that for the life of me, but let’s use our imagination), 18+ towards the end so MDNI!

word count: 1.7k (not very drabble-like, ik) kinda proofread

Prev | Next ✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🎧✮ Masterlist

GymRat!Miguel who wakes up when his 6 am alarm rings, eyes tired and bleary. His roommate is sound asleep, thank god, and Miguel is just staring at the ceiling for a good 10 minutes before he decides to move. He has an 8 am and he needs some type of breakfast before he heads to class.

GymRat!Miguel who uses the college cafeteria to his full advantage. He made sure that his dad’s money went to the highest meal plan. One free meal plan a day and a loaded campus card for everything else. He stacks his plate high with everything the cafeteria is offering today. Sausages, eggs, 2 bananas, a blueberry muffin, and a protein shake he brought from his room.

GymRat!Miguel who made friends with one of the cafeteria ladies, Ms. Beatrice, by the third week of school. She noticed how much he visited the cafeteria and always snuck him an extra treat from the kitchen when she saw him.

“I missed you last Tuesday!” she says, squeezing his shoulder when she walks up to his table. She slides a wrapped egg sandwich across the table. “I was saving some extra cookies for you, but you were nowhere to be found.”

Miguel thanks her, happy to have something light for later, “Ah, I was stuck in the library doing a group project. Sorry about that, Ms. Beatrice.”

“As long as you’re getting your education, I don’t mind,” she says, hands on her hips. “Don’t go out there skipping class now, ok?”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” Miguel says, waving her goodbye. His mom would kill him if that ever happened. Not that he would tell her, she just had a sixth sense for his “fuck-ups.”

GymRat!Miguel who makes it to his class fifteen minutes early to arrange his part of his desk to his liking. Sometimes he feels so embarrassed when he needs to grab something in the middle of class, his ears hyperfocusing on every little noise he makes in quiet, crowded areas. He always makes sure to get out his laptop, a pen, a pencil, a highlighter, a notebook, some white-out, and a water jug. He prefers to be over-prepared.

GymRat!Miguel who’s feeling anxious when the sorority girls pass by his table, giggling and twirling their hair. They attempt to make conversation with him, speaking ill of the professor. He just nods along for the sake of being a gentleman. He thought the professor’s Millennial attempts at Gen Z jokes were kind of funny, albeit very 2010. He didn’t have the heart to tell them he actually enjoyed the lectures.

GymRat!Miguel who’s never been more excited for a lecture to start in his life. He didn’t know many more “wow”’s snd “that’s crazy”’s he had left in him. The noise of the ice hitting their plastic coffee cups as they struggled to get every drop out was starting to grate against his ears. He missed you and your sticker-covered water bottle. He looked over at his jug and smiled when he saw the ‘Game Over’ sticker you gifted him before the last lab. You noticed his joystick keychain and felt that his water bottle was empty.

GymRat!Miguel who declines the girls’ offer to join them on a morning jog after. He liked to work out in solitude and morning jogs with them would mean conversation. He would also have to be extra conscious about what he wore. No older lady walking her dog needed to spot him jogging with shorts that were too short for his own good and a tank top cut so deep that it was like string on his chest.

GymRat!Miguel who decides to head to the library in between class to kill time. He figured he can see if there are any science fiction he can check out to read in his free time. As he walks there, he opens Instagram to scroll. No, he has not been checking the app since this morning to see if you let him in, he’s not a freak. He stops walking when he checks his notifs to see that you accepted his follow request. He wastes no time to click your page again and is bombarded with tons of photos.

GymRat!Miguel who has to close the app immediately when he sees your first photo. It's a picture of you outside of a restaurant in a knitted two-piece. The top is open just a bit to see your chest and the long skirt is low enough to see a part of your stomach peeking through. Your smile is radiant and the caption is something about congratulating someone. You look delectable and Miguel can’t afford to run back to his dorm to let his mind wander over it right now.

GymRat!Miguel who gets another notification as he steps into his dorm room after his last class of the day and sees that you’ve liked and commented on his most recent post. It’s a mirror picture of him flexing his arm after his last work out. His shorts are riding high on his thighs and the curve of his ass is very noticeable. Gabriel had blew up his phone with voice memos of him cackling after he posted it.

“Looking good!! 🫣 Get those gains Miguel! 💪🏾”

Miguel runs a victory lap in his dorm room, thankful that his roommate wouldn’t be back until that night. He’s jumping and punching the air excitedly as if he were a boxer. If he wasn’t fearful of busting his ass, he’d do a backflip. Take that, Gabri.

GymRat!Miguel who decides to go back to your account, running on the hype of that one compliment from you. He stares at that first photo again, still mesmerized as if he didn’t see it earlier. He gives a like and starts typing.

“Wow…”

No, that’s corny.

“Loving the blue…”

Is he a frat guy?

“You look stunning”

Was that too much? He decides to add on a heart eyes emoji, afraid he might be coming on too strong.

GymRat!Miguel who goes a little further down your page. There’s a photo of you in a crochet cover up, your swimsuit peaking through the material. He groans as he slides to the next picture and the top of your cover up is off and it’s just a view of your back with your bikini string wrapped around it. Your lower half is in the water and if he can imagine it just enough, he can feel himself right behind you, taking in the view of your ass against him.

He’s hard. Again.

He decides to just let everything hang while he has the dorm to himself. His boxers are to his ankles as he sits on the bed, back against the wall. He keeps staring at your swimsuit pictures. Your breasts pushed together while you lean over the boat. Your hips swaying in a clip of you dancing with your friends. Your stomach on display as you lay in the sand, ready for him to squeeze.

He grit his teeth as he played the clips over and over again, his hand moving fast to bring him his relief. He closed his eyes and imagined he was there, watching you swaying before him. He would join you, grab your hips and let you guide him in the dance. He felt faint as he let go, voice shouting and white splattered across his shirt and fist.

He breathes fast, trying to calm down. He decides to like the photo dump and comment some aimless beach emojis under the post. It was the least he could do after using it to get off. How embarrassing.

GymRat!Miguel who jumps when his phone dings again. He was prepping to go to the gym when your response comes flying to his phone. His heart picks up when he sees you replied to his comment.

“That is so sweet of you to say! 🥺 Thank you 🥰”

He doesn’t know if you took it as a friendly gesture or a sign that he wanted you. Either way, he’s over the moon. There’s a pep in his step as he blasts Super Shy in his ears on the way to the gym. He had a new motivation to push harder in his sets.

GymRat!Miguel who tacks on 10 extra pounds during his arm workout. The guys in the gym are eyeing him in wonder and horror as he uses the 70lb weights for tricep extensions. He thinks of seeing you in lab later that week and decides to do some hip thrusts.

He can never be over-prepared.

GymRat!Miguel who decides to take a picture at the end of his work out to post on his story. He’s sweating, hair dripping towards the ends, his chest glistening. The angle is awkward as he moves the camera below him and flexes an arm for the picture. The story was meant for one girl and one girl only, so he didn’t really care how silly it looked to others.

GymRat!Miguel who almost fist pumps on the walk home when you like his story and leave a reply. He checks the private messages, grin on his face before he even reads what you have to say.

“Looks like you had a nice workout. I might have to join you next time and get some tips 🤔”

Miguel swiped the app up and texted Gabriel:

“Don’t ever question my game again”

"? Wtf are you talking about"

Miguel opened up his messages with you again and replied to text him whenever and he’d be happy to help.

GymRat!Miguel who winds down for the night, scrolling on his phone before he closes his eyes. Of course you posted a story and of course he pressed it within record speed.

It was a photo of you laying down all bundled up with a cute ‘good night’ gif moving across the bottom. You had on a spaghetti strap tank top and if your blanket wasn’t in the way, he’s sure he would see more than that.

You looked soft, adorable, kissable.

He liked the story and responded back a “good night” and closed his phone. He wanted you to visit him in his dreams once more.

dividers by: @gigittamic 🩵

a/n: tumblr mobile kept deleting full paragraphs of my draft. not happy about that because I kept losing my flow. 😒 it happened like THREE TIMES 😭

Thanks for reading! Like, comment, reblog, and tell me how you feel! 🩵

Wanna be added to the taglist for GymRat!Miguel? Comment and let me know. 🤗 (PLEASE HAVE YOUR AGE IN YOUR BIO. This series has been and will get even more NSFW!)

taglist: @ghost-lantern 🫶🏾🥺

[wileys-russo]

filling the void (4) II a.putellas x sister!reader

prequel one two three

filling the void (4) II a.putellas x sister!reader

you looked up from your coffee as the front door opened, your sister walking through and pulling her headphones down around her neck clearly having gone for a run.

"bon dia hermana." she greeted as you only nodded, sipping on your coffee and breathing a small sigh of relief when alexia headed toward her bedroom.

when she returned a few minutes later her headphones were gone and she'd taken off her runners, padding her way into the kitchen to make herself a coffee and start breakfast.

as you sat at the bench drifting away into your own world alexia was stuck in her head just as much as you were, between worries for eli and worries for you her mind was a mess, only worsening after your confession last night.

a confession which you were praying to every and all god that alexia wouldn't bring up, already incredibly embarrassed about your outburst at the hospital you didn't think you'd handle having to confront anything else head on right now.

olga could sense the tension in the room before she even entered, needing to head off to madrid for a few days for work she'd spent most of this morning worrying about what might happen while she was away but alexia had been firm that it was important she still go.

"hola pequeña." the older girl greeted you as you sent her a smile, alexia glancing over her shoulder in surprise when you didn't make any comment on the use of the nickname, though really she should figure she'd lost the right to battle you about that anyway with her behavior lately.

"amor you called jona sí?" olga murmered, alexia nodding and stealing a kiss when you weren't looking as if you were still a child, the captain having taken the next two days off from training to make sure she was around with everything going on.

"two days, more if i need them." alexia murmured, olga smiling appreciatively knowing how hard it was for her girlfriend to take time off, her work ethic just as dangerous as it was admirable at times.

both girls turned their heads as you awkwardly cleared your throat, alexia wordlessly raising an eyebrow as your fingers drummed anxiously against the ceramic walls of the coffee mug clenched tightly in hand, the beverage itself now long gone luke warm.

"can you take me home please? i have work at nine." you asked quietly, alexia hesitating for a moment as if unsure of a response. "you don't want to come to the hospital?" your sister asked carefully, olgas hand moving to rest on top of hers on the counter.

"i have to work." you answered again, a little firmer this time. "hermana if you call your boss and explain i am sure that-" alexia tried again as you shook your head. "i have to work. i have my routine and i need to be home to follow it, all my things are there. alexia can you please take me home?" you stood abruptly, jaw clenched as you smoothed out the clothes you'd been wearing for the last near twelve hours.

as alexia opened her mouth her girlfriend gently tapped a finger against her knuckles in a silent warning. "i can take you on my way to the gym nena." olga stepped in with a smile as you nodded, alexia watching you hurry away to the bedroom to grab your phone and house keys.

"why does she not want to-" alexia frowned as her girlfriend shook her head, cutting her off. "leave it ale. you need what you need, and fresa needs what fresa needs." olga warned softly, hand tracing the catalan's sharp jawline which tensed but none the less the blonde nodded.

"do you want-" "i'll cook something when i get back before my flight mi vida, go see your mami." olga kissed her cheek, alexia sending her a small smile and pecking her lips a few times in silent appreciation before you returned.

"ready to go?"

~

"-no there's still no update, she's still not really awake yet and she's still on the ventilator." alexia explained with a sigh, on her way back to the car and on the phone for what felt like the hundredth time today, having swallowed the bullet and starting to reach out to close family members to let them know what happened.

"tía i promise as soon as she is awake and less high risk i will call you right away, for now she is not allowed many visitors. alba and i only saw her for a few minutes today and we were waiting for hours." alexia fished her keys out of her pocket and hummed, the rapid spanish on the other end of the line the same thing she'd heard all day.

"sí fresa is okay, alba and i are looking after her." alexia spoke on autopilot despite the way the words felt like ashes in her mouth, an incoming call having her rapidly finish up the conversation, abruptly hanging up and clicking accept.

"hola hermana." alexia sighed tiredly, holding the phone between her ear and shoulder as she paid for her parking and rolled her eyes at the high price but tapping her card none the less.

"were you picking fresa up from work?" alba asked, a slight worry to her tone as alexia frowned, stopping in her tracks. "no. she said you were picking her up, olga dropped her off this morning." alexia answered, hurrying to her car.

"well thats what i thought too. but i am here, the clinic is closed and she is not here, nobody is." alba replied, having left the hospital a couple of hours ago. "mierda. maybe she took the bus? i can go past mami's house now to check if she is there." alexia decided, promising to keep alba in the loop as she hurried out of the parking garage.

alexia wasn't sure to be relieved or annoyed when she pulled into the driveway and noticed the house lights were on, the blurred shadows of a figure moving behind the drawn curtains could be just faintly seen.

knocking on the front door a few times alexia tapped her foot, frowning when the door only opened a slight crack and your head poked out. "what?" you asked, a little bluntly as your sister seemed taken aback.

"alba went to pick you up from work and you were not there, we were worried." alexia started as you rolled your eyes, still refusing to open the door properly. "i finish early on mondays." you answered.

"oh, i didn't know." your sister frowned as you scoffed slightly. "why would you alexia? i'm surprised you both even know where i work." the older girls cheeks flushed a little with warmth.

"hermanita-" 'don't, please." you cut her off before she could speak, not in the mood for the conversation you knew she'd want to start right now.

"pack a bag then, you can stay with me again tonight." your sister forced a smile as you gave her an odd look as if she'd grown a second head. "why?" though when all you received in response was a knowing look, your eyes rolled once more.

"alexia, go home. i am fine here by myself, i have work tomorrow again and i already told you i have a routine." you sighed trying to close the door, frustration growing as the blondes foot wedged in the way.

"then i will stay here, i still have some things in my room." the girl persisted as you shook your head. "you don't need to, and i don't want you to." you replied sharply, though you winced as something thudded behind you.

"oh but you are fine by yourself? who is here with you." alexia's demeanor switched as you kicked at her foot and attempted to shove the door closed but to no avail as your sister easily overpowered your attempts and pushed it open, nearly sending you to the floor as she marched in like a mad woman.

"who is that!?"

you scrambled to your feet and quickly snatched up the four year old who went running toward your sister, sitting her on your hip as alexia stared at you wide eyed and in shock.

"whose niña is this?" alexia stammered out as you sighed and closed the front door. "this is sofía." you introduced, alexia's face softening a little at the shy gap toothed smile the small girl gave her.

"sof this is alexia, she's mi hermana." you introduced back, alexia giving a small wave and melting even further at the way sofía tucked her head into your neck. "since when are you shy pequeña?" you teased, a giggle sounding as you poked at her stomach.

"okay sof, how about you go watch your show while i finish dinner and talk to alexia. if you need anything you come get me or just yell out, vale?" you placed her back down as she immediately hid behind your leg, peeking out at alexia who gave her another wave.

"vale." the four year old chirped, tugging on the hem of your shorts as you bent down to her level, something whispered in your ear making you laugh and tickle her again as she giggled and raced back off to the living room.

"she's one of my friends daughters, her baby sitters sick so i offered to watch her." you explained to your sister who nodded, a little dumbfounded as she followed you back to the kitchen.

"have you been here alone with her all day?" alexia asked with an air of concern as you stirred whatever you were cooking, which your sister wouldn't deny smelt leagues better than anything she made herself these days.

"no, just a couple hours. elena does night school monday through wednesday to get her doctorate, whenever her baby sitter isn't free i watch sofía. normally i'd go to her house but with everyone going on she thought it might be better if i had sof here." you spoke quietly, glancing over your shoulder every couple of minutes to check in on the tiny brunette giggling away at a brightly coloured kids show on screen.

"you look after her by yourself?" alexia asked, shock hardly disguised as you rolled your eyes moving the sauce off the heat and huffing.

"yes alexia, believe it or not i can keep another human being alive for a few hours. i've had enough practice looking after myself!" you snapped, pausing to close your eyes and take a breath.

"i don't want to argue in front of her. i told you i'm fine, you've seen i'm okay, go home alexia, your home." you sighed, turning your back to her again after you'd peeked at the living room over the top of her head.

"fresa i also don't want to argue." your sister started a lot softer as you began to dish up dinner. "you know i want to fix this, alba and i want to fix things." alexia promised as you stayed silent, though before either one of you could speak a new voice piped up.

"you're really tall. way taller than my mami!" alexia jumped a little in surprise as sofía now stood next to her looking up in wonder. "is dinner nearly done?" she shot now next to you, tugging again on the hem of your shorts as you looked down with a soft smile.

"nearly. you hungry?" you questioned as the four year old nodded enthusiastically. "so hungry!" she groaned dramatically sagging against your leg as alexia smiled, suddenly slammed back into the memory of when she and alba would look after you at that age and you too would never leave her alone when she was trying to cook.

one memory in particular sat heavily with the captain as she watched you teasingly shove sofía away and take a test mouthful of the food, groaning loudly and happily as the girl hit your leg and huffed opening her mouth wanting to try for herself.

it was another night where both her parents were working night shifts and a sixteen year old alexia had been left to look after her sisters, alba hidden away in her room taking another one of her teenage angst my life is awful i hate everyone naps she so adored at that age.

alexia had been at training all afternoon, currently playing at Levante, and received the news from the coach that she wouldn't be starting this weekend which now made three weeks in a row.

it had put a dampen on the girls mood significantly, feeling quite lost as to what else she could do to prove herself. she already stayed back, arrived early, trained at home, worked on her skills in every way possible she could but still, nothing seemed to be good enough.

it hadn't helped that with eli only recently picking up night shifts you were still adjusting to the change in your routine, used to your papi not being around after dinner but missing your mami, which lead to you being even more clingier than usual.

"fresa!" alexia huffed as she turned and nearly stepped on you as you hovered by her feet after being sent away a few minutes ago, hugging her leg and refusing to let go no matter what.

"fresa please let go." alexia asked as nicely as she could manage, temper rapidly becoming shorter and shorter as you refused to listen to a single word she said.

first it had been refusing to take a bath, hiding under alexia's bed right against the wall where she couldn't reach you and even going as far as to bite the tip of her finger as she finally grabbed a fistful of your shirt and pulled you out.

next it was trying to drown her in a tidal wave of soapy water when she finally got you into a bath, soaking the clothes she'd not long changed into after her own shower.

but still alexia managed to hold her tongue, speaking to you softly and encouragingly as eventually you sat down and allowed her to wash your hair.

but then you'd ran around half dressed and still wet for half an hour, finding endless amusement in the way your older sister just couldn't catch you, giggling and screaming with delight as alexia resisted the urge to kick you like a football when she finally scooped you up and forced you into the rest of your pyjamas, towel drying and braiding your hair so it was out of your face.

well braiding it as best she could as you'd squirmed and wriggled and kicked, whining that alexia didn't do it right and that it was too tight and then it was too loose and that only your mami knew how to do your hair right.

a full blown tantrum over your hair which took alexia a good half an hour to calm you down again had seemingly tired you out as your sister left you on the sofa with your favourite movie on.

alexia now an hour later than planned started on dinner, stress building as it rapidly neared your bed time and the brunette feared any more disruptions would only worsen your behaviour.

she'd gotten halfway done with dinner before you grew bored of your movie, alexia's attempts to wake up alba to help only resulting in a shoe flung at her head and a door slammed in her face as she resisted the urge to strangle the younger girl.

it seemed the cure to your boredom was to latch yourself firmly to your eldest sisters leg, curling around her like a monkey as no amount of shaking or begging had you letting go.

with all of that happening alexia had almost burned dinner, patience now a thin veil as she firmly yanked you off her leg and placed you down, shooing you away and promising dinner was almost done.

though of course you hadn't listened and immediately returned to hover under her feet now bringing a toy crane your papi had gifted you. and it was the small piece of plastic alexia had stepped on with barefeet, causing her to trip and a hand to shoot out to stop herself from falling.

that hand falling on the stove had meant another wave of pain rocked her body as she hissed and saw red, nearly tripping over you once again as you made noises with your mouth and sat on the floor between her legs refusing to move.

"why do you have to be such a pain! why can't you listen! i said to leave me be and you hover under my feet and trip me and do not go away! go away fresa!" alexia had lost it at this point, flying entirely of a dangerously unbalanced handle as she yelled.

but all of that anger drained from her body in a millisecond like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over her head as she watched your eyes well up with tears, crane clattering to the floor.

"no no no hey pequeña-" alexia cooed softly immediately dropping to her knees and reaching for you but you were gone, sprinting away as fast as your small legs could take you as alexia's heart broke and she stood, quickly pulling the pot off the stove and running after you.

she checked your room first in all the usual hiding places but came up with nothing, calling out for you and begging you to come out, apologizing over and over but even in her own room she couldn't find you, worries growing with each passing second.

alba's door now locked she knew that was out of contention, and her body flooded with relief as she stepped into her parents bedroom and caught sight of your leg in the mirror where you'd wedged yourself under their bed.

"fresita." alexia called out softly, her chest aching at the sniffles which could be heard from your hiding spot, the older girl sitting cross legged on the floor and begging you to come out with no luck.

you refused to say a word bar the tiny sniffles and hiccups that left you, sounds of pain which were much too large for a body as tiny as yours as alexia's own flooded with guilt for her outburst.

"hey fresa ven aquí. nena i am so so so sorry for yelling, i didn't mean it promesa. please come out, lo siento mucho hermanita please." alexia continued to beg, leaning down to peer at you under the bed as you caught her eye with another sniffle, rolling over so you were facing the wall and tucking into yourself even tighter.

with a sigh alexia ran a hand through her hair, jumping as a hand landed on her shoulder, surprised to see alba now stood behind her. she frowned a little as the younger girl sat beside her, pulling something from her pocket and placing it just under the bed.

"fresita." alba cooed, voice thick with sleep as you turned under the bed, spotting your favorite chocolate bar sat a few feet away.

as alba noticed your tiny hand reach out for it she placed a finger on top, pulling the treat a little further away as you frowned and wiggled closer, though again it was tugged just out of reach.

this game of cat and mouse continued for a while until the chocolate bar sat on the floor between your sisters and eventually your head peeked out from under the bed cautiously, both older girls smiling down at you.

you watched them for a moment as neither of them made any move to reach for you, aware one sudden movement could be all it took for you to reatreat again.

when they didn't move you slowly wiggled the rest of your body out, reaching for the chocolate and snatching it, both your sisters holding their breath but sighing quietly as you sat up and didn't seem inclined to return under the bed.

"i'll go finish dinner." alba murmured as you struggled to open the chocolate, alexia sending her a grateful smile as she disapeared out of the room.

"do you want me to open it pequeña?" alexia asked softly as you nodded, shuffling a littler closer as your sister took it from your outstretched palm and opened it, handing it back.

as you took a bite this time alexia reached for you, relieved when you put up no fight as she sat you in her lap, arms protectively wound around you and her face buried in your hair.

"tickles!" you huffed as alexia exhaled tiredly, wriggling around as your sister smiled and turned you in her lap, grabbing under your arms and standing you up so you were both eye to eye.

"fresa. i am very very very sorry for yelling and for if i scared you, i am not mad at you." alexia promised as you nodded and her thumb swiped at the tear tracks under your eyes with a pained smile.

"sorry i tripped you." you whispered out, looking down guiltily as alexia's finger tilted your chin back up so your eyes locked with hers once again.

"its okay hermanita, i know you did not mean to. you just miss mami, sí?" you nodded at that as alexia tugged you into a tight hug, peppering kisses along the crown of your forehead.

"i miss her too fresa, but we will get better at this, we will." alexia promised, cradling your head as you nodded into her chest. "but sometimes when mami is not here and i ask you to do something, i need you to do it, vale?" alexia murmered as you pulled your head back.

"vale. sorry ale." your bottom lip wobbled again as alexia was quick to catch the rogue tear with her finger, kissing your cheek repeatedly and carefully standing still with you held tightly in her arms.

"the kitchen can be dangerous sometimes fresa, especially sat on the floor or attached to my leg like a little monkey." alexia warned tickling at your stomach as you giggled and a wave of relief washed over her seeing you smile again.

"you're just my best friend ale and i don't know what to do without you." you mumbled tiredly with a yawn as your head slumped on her shoulder, fatigue clawing at you as it was now past your normal bed time as alexia melted and almost cried, exhaustion hitting her as well.

"oh mi precioso fresa you are my best friend too. forever and ever and ever nena, promesa."

"my mami stabs people! what do you do?" sofía was now stood back next to alexia, smiling up at her clearly no longer as shy as the older girl was flung into reality, blinking a few times as she adjusted and tuned back in.

"elena works with me at the clinic." you quickly clarified with a small amount of amusement seeing the mild horror flicker through the older girls eyes as she registered what sofía had said.

"i play football. do you like football?" your sister dropped down to the girls level, the two of them chattering away and before you could blink suddenly sofía was tugging her away to the living room with her.

you glanced over a few minutes later to see the two of them sat cross legged on the floor, alexia trying to teach sofía some sort of clapping game as you sighed and dished up a third bowl of the meal.

"dinner is done." you called out, ensuring the stove was fully off as within a blink there was an eager four year old climbing up into her chair as you chuckled and handed her a fork.

"you may as well stay, i know olga is the cook anyway." you gave your sister a small smile as alexia did her best not to let a grin overtake her face as she sat down across from the two of you and you slid her a fork.

"gracias fresa." alexia smiled as sofía paused mid mouthful to give you a curious look. "she calls you strawberry." the brunette pointed out as you nodded. "she does, thats my favourite fruit." you poked at her nose as she huffed and smacked your hand away.

"when she was your age all she wanted to eat was strawberries, for every single meal." alexia added on pulling a stupid face at the girl who giggled. "you can't do that silly!" sofía shook her head at you.

"can too, and strawberry milk." you grabbed a napkin and sofía's chin in your hand, wiping the copious amount of food which missed her mouth away as she whined and tried to push you off.

again alexia was hit with a wave of nostalgia, vivid memories of when she sat in your chair and you sat in sofia's, the smile fading from her face as her stomach churned with guilt, somewhat grateful for the small four year olds constant chatter meaning neither you or alexia really had to interact much.

"alexia do you have a football? can we play?" sofía grabbed your sisters hand once she was done helping you clear the table, hitting the catalan with the best puppy dog eyes she could muster not unlike you did all those years ago when you were determined to get your own way.

you caught her eye and the slight raise of her eyebrow, pausing for a moment before sending the blonde a curt nod. "i'll wash up." you declared, dismissing her attempts to offer help as sofía pulled impatiently on your sisters hand.

"sí, i have lots of footballs nena. ven conmigo and you can choose one!"

~

you'd been keeping a close eye on the pair as they raced and chased one another around the backyard, the summer evening sun starting to fade fast as you dried and put away the last plate.

you'd like if you said it hadn't shocked you a little to see your at times quite awkward sister be so open and care free with sofía, you having caught her earlier chase the small girl around the backyard pretending to be a football eating monster.

you'd be lying to yourself if similarly to alexia watching their interactions didn't bring up any thoughts or feelings toward your own childhood but in no state of mind to unpack that just yet you squashed it deep deep down and refused to acknowledge it.

you were stood on the back steps just about to call the two of them in now the sun was near fully set when it happened.

all it took was a misplaced step and suddenly sofía was falling head over heels, skinning her knee on the brick retaining wall of the small vegetable patch in the corner.

alexia's sisterly instincts kicked in as she raced across to comfort the now crying girl but you beat her to it, quickly lifting sofía up and into your arms as you bounced her up and down.

"hey hey hey nena its okay! you're okay. just a little fall sof, you're okay." you repeated over and over, your sister watching on a little dumbfounded as you hurried inside, alexia grabbing the football and following.

"hey you're a big girl right? big girls get skinned knees! its all a part of growing up sof." you sat her down on the kitchen counter as her cries turned to hiccups and she nodded.

"its okay to cry though nena, its good to cry sometimes! never let anyone tell you you're not allowed to. sometimes tears can be happy as well!" you kept the girl engaged as you cleaned her knee, poking at her stomach and making jokes, her giggling distracting her from the alcohol swab wiping away at the small graze.

"now, i need someone really really special to help me make a very important decision. anyone?" you asked, holding something behind your back and making a silly face, sofía nodding eagerly as her hand shot into the air.

"anyone? does anyone want to help?" you pretended not to notice, looking around as the four year old huffed and alexia smiled softly hovering nearby watching the interaction. "me! me me me!" sofía chanted impatiently as you sighed.

"i guess nobody wants to help!" you threw your hands up and turned to go as a small hand grabbed a fistful of your t-shirt and tugged. "oh! do you want to help me sof? why didn't you tell me!" you teased, jabbing playfully at her sides as she squealed and kicked at you.

"i will help." the girl nodded as you did the same. "okay. mickey mouse, or goofy?" you held up two different plasters as sofía's face lit up and she instantly pointed to the goofy one.

asking her to sit still for a moment you carefully applied the plaster over the small graze, kissing the top of her knee and standing up straight away. "all fixed! i think we do not need to cut this off...yet." you grabbed her foot and inspected her leg with a frown.

"hey!" the brunette gasped as you pulled a shocked face and ruffled her hair, picking her back up again. "bath and bed." you pinched her nose as she groaned but made no move to fight, going limp in your arms as you smiled and kissed her cheek.

"i'm just gonna..." you jolted a little admittedly having forgotten alexia was still here as you noticed her, your sister nodding in understanding.

"don't go yet! i wanna say goodnight." sofía yelled to alexia over your shoulder as the girl promised she wouldn't and took a seat on the sofa, exhaling as she did so, head swamped with a tidal wave of memories, only worsened as she stared around at her childhood home.

alexia hadn't realised how long she'd been trapped in her own mind but what felt like mere seconds later a body was latched to her leg and you were waiting in the hallway, arms crossed and a large wet patch on your shirt where the four year old had gotten a little too enthusiastic with the plastic duck she always had with her.

"buenas noches alexia. it was fun playing with you!" sofía smiled a little more tiredly now, climbing onto the sofa and hugging the older girl tightly who perhaps clung on a second or so too long, flashes of when it was you hugging her goodnight still lingering at the back of her mind.

"it was very nice to meet you nena, remember drive through!" your sister pretended to kick a ball as sofía giggled and copied the action before waving and racing back to your side as the two of you disappeared again.

when you returned around fifteen minutes later now changed into dry clothes and the four year old sleeping peacefully in your bed it wasn't a surprise to see alexia curled up on the corner of the lounge watching something.

you didn't say anything at first as you settled at the opposite end, a somewhat uncomfortable unspoken tension filling the gap between the two of you.

"i assume you are staying the night then." you spoke up first, knowing alexia well enough that when she had her mind set on something it was near impossible to change it.

"sí." your sister confirmed as you gave a small nod. "you are very good with her." the blonde commented next, throwing you a small look as your own eyes stayed fixated on the tv.

"as kids go she's pretty easy." you gave a shrug, tucking your knees up to your chest. "everything you do with her, i used to do with you." and there it was.

"alexia-" you started with a small sigh. "no, fresa i know. we don't need to speak about it, i just wanted to say it. she reminds me a lot of you is all, and i miss it sometimes." alexia admitted, nervous that with one wrong word it might send you recoiling into yourself and off to your room, worsening things.

a beat of silence paused and alexia took that as a silent cue you were done, turning her head back toward the tv.

"sometimes i miss it too."

you'd spoken so quietly you weren't even sure if your sister had heard you, grateful that if she did she chose not to comment on it, the two of you sitting in silence that albeit awkward was a little less tense watching television.

alexia looked up from where she was getting some water in the kitchen at a soft knock at the door, watching you hurry over to pull it open, an unfamiliar girl just visible through the window as alexia leaned against the counter.

no words were exchanged as you lead the girl inside and the two of you returned a moment later, sofia back in her mothers arms as the girl who didn't look much older than twenty two or three loaded her into a carseat.

when she returned to speak with you alexia hadn't meant to eavesdrop and overhear, she really hadn't.

"thank you so so much for this chica, she adores you and i appreciate you." elena sighed pulling you into a hug as you assured it was no problem and you were always happy to help out if needed.

"please don't give me that look." you sighed after you told her you'd see her at work tomorrow. "mateo said you could have the whole week off and with pay! why are you working?" elena told you off firmly but not unkindly.

"i like working." you justified with a shrug, the older girl not buying it as she raised an eyebrow and you deflated a little. "i can't see her like that el, i can't." you whispered out, voice on the cusp of cracking as alexia's eyebrows furrowed from where she stood within earshot.

"she's your mami amiga she would want you there with your sisters, supporting each other through this. not stabbing grumpy old men with low iron!" elena teased with a soft smile as you barely cracked one of your own.

"your sisters are trying, sí? let them try, i am sure that they love you very much." elena promised as alexia was taken aback at her words, the jealousy which had been simmering at the surface of the comfort this stranger was providing you instead of her, easing a little.

"i know. but i can't see her like that, i can't." you repeated with a shake of your head. "why?" elena asked softly, a hand sat on your shoulder with a gentle squeeze as you shook your head.

"you can talk to me about anything chica, you know this. we all love you and are here for anything you need!" your friend encouraged gently, alexia's grip on her glass tightening as she heard the unmistakable sound of you choking back a slight sob before the next words you whispered shattered her heart completely.

"because the last time someone i loved when into hospital, he never came back."

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five