#we get them being domestic today too

[anotherfanaccount]

Satan reveal is going to hurt isn't it?

If we see logically it has to be the assemblyman. But his eldest son is also a psychopath. Can Satan jump from one body to another?

Why is Justitia shocked after finding out the actual Satan? It can't be Han Da On? Or is it? He is the only survivor of the serial killings. He shouldn't be Satan and also neither a sinner.

Also they keep reminding us every 10 mins either or both of them will die. Bael is not going to let his only heir have a family on earth with a human unless he gets kylum and Satan. So there's hope.

They gotta stop making the previews this exciting. I'm excited and also so scared. Again only 1 day for this. And then a week's wait for the finale.

[angelltheninth]

Love your LADS writings! Could we maybe get them reacting to their girlfriend wearing their shirt?

I love writing for LADS, now that Caleb is here there's even more hot men to fawn over.

Pining: Zayne, Rafayel, Xavier, Sylus, Caleb x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, established relationship, sharing clothes, domestic fluff, clothes shopping, possessiveness, being playful, flirting

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

A/N: Wrote this a bit fast because my new PC came in today so I need to set it up. It's gonna be awesome.

Zayne pretends not to notice that it's his shirt you're always wearing in the mornings when you stay over at his place. It's only a shirt, he's got many more just like it. So why is it getting to him when you wear it? Simple, it looks cuter on you, and he tries not to get worked up about it, that would go against his stoic, professional self. However when he sees you wearing his clothes he always tells you that it looks good on you. A sort of subtle encouragement that you should do it more often, and also spend more time at his place because he tries not to leave his clothes at your place.

Rafayel wants to buy some matching clothes when he saw that you wear his on occasion. He's always had a good sense of style and is very happy that you do to, furthermore that you like it so much that you want to wear what he wears. When he sees you wearing his clothes he makes sure to memorize what it looked like on you so he can sketch it later. Before he knows it there are a dozen sketches of you in his clothes. Not that it's a bad thing by any means and he thinks you're catching on to him buying matching clothes because every time you're on a date you're pointing out cute outfits that you say would look great on him.

Xavier doesn't think much of it when he leaves some of his stuff at your place when he comes and goes. What he does think about is how his pants looked on you, too long, cozy, some a bit tight on you, others hanging off your hips, all depending on what you get your hands on at the time. The scene is almost domestic, seeing you not even think about putting on something of his, you don't even say why you do it and he's fascinated by that. Playfully he tugs on the waistband of the pants and tells you he wants them back, only for you to turn the tables and tell him to take them off you if he wants them so bad.

Sylus is very perceptive of what you do when you're around him so there's no way he wouldn't notice you wearing his fancy shirts around the apartment. Those aren't exactly outfits for casual wear so there was no way you could have mistaken them for one of your own, which means you took them on purpose. A man like him doesn't do well when other people touch what belongs to him without his permission. It's bad business practice, and dangerous when you're in deep with criminals like he is. But he could be persuaded to let you get away with it, only because you're his girl and his girl can do whatever she wants with and to him.

Caleb leaves his hoodie at your place on purpose. He did it because he wanted to use it as an excuse to visit again early, he didn't expect that you'd be wearing it when you opened the door for him. All the blood rushed to his brain and caused him to stop all train of thought for a few moments before he smirked and leaned in to whisper how cute you look, his breath hot against your lips before he claimed them in a searing kiss. From that day on he never mentioned anything about you giving him his clothes back. Why would he want it back when it looks so much better on you, sometimes it's all you wear around him.

[thewildwaffle]

Friend Shaped

The professor clacked his beak sharply three times in the front of the room. The students, around 40 individuals, and many species from across the galactic arm hushed almost immediately. “Welcome back, class. The day for your first planet-side mission to Nemulon 3 is fast approaching, and we've still got a lot of safety training to cover, so let's get started.” The professor stepped aside to allow a projection to display against the board behind him. A picture of a blue, green, and gray planet shone brightly against the dark tapestry of space. Nemulon 3 had been discovered deca-orbits ago but offered a wide variety of biomes that were the perfect blend of challenging and safe to train new recruits to the Galactic Alliance’s Exploration Fleet. “Today we're covering some alien fauna you may encounter while conducting exploratories. Most are small enough that they won't pose much of an issue, but we do have a few category 5 lifeforms that you need to be aware of.” The display behind the professor changed from an image of Nemulon 3 from orbit to a chart topped by 5 images with their respective labels: karindru, oold, dini-dini, barintuna, and great lavalen. Before the professor could start in on the next part of his lecture, a voice spoke out from the middle of the classroom.“That looks like a dog.” The professor stood with his beak half open. He was certainly not used to being interrupted, let alone this early in the lesson. “A what?” He finally choked out. There was a pause as if the offending student was thinking better about drawing more attention to themselves before slowly putting their hand up in the air. It was a human. Cadet Valentina, if the attendance role had been accurate. “I said it… it looks like a dog.” Human Valentina inhaled as if gathering the courage to say more. “They're a carnivorous canine species on earth that humans domesticated thousands of cycles ago and selectively bred to be pets.” The professor’s beak closed with a snap and some of the features near the base of his neck ruffled slightly. “Nemulon 3 is 47 light years away from Earth. Any similarities between each planet’s fauna is purely coincidental, a product of parallel evolution.” The human bowed her head and said nothing else, so the professor continued. “Now, for many of you of larger stature, a single karindru might not pose much of a threat, but their real danger comes from their numbers. They live, travel, and hunt in packs. Thankfully, their method of communicating with each other in their packs are quite loud, so you will hear them long before you see them, and hopefully, before they see you. Typically you’ll hear anything from yipping, chirping, and howling.” “Kind of like coyotes.” The professor stopped and stared at the human again, feathers ruffling once again. “Another kind of canine species back home,” Valentina offered quietly. If the professor was capable of growling, he might have been tempted to at that moment. Instead, he sighed slowly. “I can assure you, trying to get close to these will likely end with your injury or death.” “Well, that's what ancient humans thought about wolves too, but then we bred them into dogs and now they’re our best friends.” “Karindru are not, nor are any native creatures on this planet, your friend. Not now, not ever.” The professor turned sharply back to the board. The entire class was dead silent. Few even dared to breathe. It was quiet enough, in fact, to hear the human mumble under their breath, “If not friend, then why friend-shaped?”

The human was promptly given detention and assigned extra homework of writing “I will not try to domesticate any native fauna on Nemulon 3” one hundred times by hand.

[yvesette]

WE GOT MARRIED!

ִ ࣪𖤐 ۪ ݁ 𓈒 ── choi seungcheol

SUMMARY: ── the premise of the popular reality show, "we got married," was simple: you and another celebrity would pretend to be married for two weeks, navigating various romantic and domestic challenges together. when your partner turns out to be choi seungcheol however, feelings complicate your perception of reality.

PAIRING: [choi seungcheol (s.coups) x f!reader] GENRE: [eventual smut, domestic fluff, angst, idol!au, fake dating, one bed, all the good shit]

CW: afab!reader, nicknames (angel, babygirl, baby, good girl), arguing (it’s sorted out), soft!dom ?? + pussydrunk cheol, big!dick cheol, fingering, penetration, safe sex (ofc), possessive!cheol, hair pulling, light choking

      ℘　　◌　　﹒　⠀ ꢾ꣒⠀　 ׅ⠀ㅤ　⑅

── pre-show interview:

interviewer: "thank you for joining us today! can you tell us a little about yourself and what initially made you hesitant to join 'we got married'?"

you fiddle with your hands and compose yourself into a smile.

��of course. i’m y/n, and to be honest, when i was first approached about the show, i had a lot of reservations. being an idol, my life is already under constant scrutiny, and the idea of faking a marriage on national television was daunting. i was worried about how my fans would react and whether I'd be able to genuinely connect with my on-screen partner."

interviewer: "what eventually convinced you to participate?"

you think, “it was a mix of curiosity and encouragement from my friends and management. they believed it would be a good opportunity for me to show a different side of myself, one that isn't always visible on stage. plus, the idea of experiencing something as unique as a reality show marriage was too intriguing to pass up."

interviewer: "do you know who your partner will be yet?

you smile nervously, “no, i don't. it’s a complete surprise for me. all i know is that it's someone from a well-known group. i’m really curious to find out who it is!"

interviewer: "that must be exciting! can you share what your ideal type is for the camera?”

you grin thoughtfully, “my ideal type is someone who is kind-hearted and takes care of the people around them. they should have a strong sense of responsibility but also listen and understand. a good sense of humor is a must — oh and physically, i guess i find myself drawn to someone with a warm smile and expressive eyes. someone who can be both charismatic on stage and down-to-earth in everyday life."

interviewer: "finally, do you have any worries or concerns going into the show?"

you: "i’m a bit worried about how awkward it might be at first. there’s always that initial nervousness when meeting someone new, and this situation is quite intense. i hope we can get past that quickly and have a good time together.”

—

day 1:

you stood in front of the door to a luxurious townhome, hands fidgeting nervously at your sides. this would be your new home for the next two weeks. the camera crew gave you a nod, signaling it was time to head inside. taking a deep breath, you open the door and step into the living room, where a warm, cozy ambiance greets you. as you set your bag down, you hear the sound of the front door opening again. you turn, breath caught in your throat, and a man, looking slightly familiar to you, enters the room.

he was wearing a white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, paired with dark jeans that accentuated his tall, athletic frame. his broad shoulders and well-defined chest were subtly outlined by the fabric of his shirt, hinting at the strength beneath. the open collar revealed a glimpse of his collarbones, which added an effortlessly sexy touch to his appearance and you thanked god you’d been paired with someone this attractive, as selfish as it sounded. his face was a perfect blend of boyish charm and mature masculinity and his dark hair was styled in a slightly tousled manner.

the man in front of you carried a polite smile. for a moment, you both stood there, slightly taken aback by the reality of the situation.then, as if on cue, you both bowed to each other in polite, awkward unison. "hello!" you said at the same time, voices overlapping. realizing what happened, you both laughed nervously and bowed again, this time with even more formality.

“hi, i’m y/n," you said, smiling despite your nerves.

“i’m seungcheol. it’s nice to meet you,” he said, returning your smile.

there was a brief pause as you both sized each other up, trying to gauge the other's reaction. something about him seemed familiar, but you couldn't quite place it.

your heart skipped a beat as recognition dawned on you and you remembered his face from music and award shows. you were almost certain the man in front of you was a member of seventeen and your mind was almost more eased you were paired with another idol.

as you shook his hand, your mind raced with a million thoughts. should you mention that you know who he is? would it be weird? awkward?

before you could decide, seungcheol spoke again, his voice cheerful and inviting, “i know this is a bit of an odd situation, but let's make these two weeks memorable, okay?”

you nodded, unable to tear your gaze away from his face and your cheeks flushed slightly.

the first task was to explore the house together, finding little notes and hints left by the producers about upcoming challenges and activities. as you moved from room to room, seungcheol’s playful nature shined through. he made jokes about the odd decorations and even tried on an oversized apron in the kitchen, to which he realized how easily he could make you laugh.

in the living room, you found a note instructing you to cook your first meal together. seungcheol looked at you with genuine curiosity in his eyes. "do you cook often?"

you shook your head, “i try, but i’m not the best. how about you?”

he shrugged, “i can manage, could you hand me those eggs?”

working side by side in the kitchen, you both stumbled through the recipe, exchanging glances and giggles as you tried to make sense of the instructions. seungcheol’s presence was comforting; his easygoing demeanor made it feel less like a staged activity and you had to remind yourself of your situation every once in a while.

“careful!" you warned as he nearly knocked over a bowl of flour.

“oops," he laughed, catching it just in time. "oh my god, thanks for warning me.”

when the meal was finally ready, you both sat down at the coffee table, a sense of accomplishment and camaraderie settling in.

“you know," he says, his voice low and conspiratorial, "i have to admit, i was a bit of a fan of yours before this."

you almost spit out your food and your eyes widen in surprise, “you were?”

he nodded, a shy smirk playing on his lips. "yeah, i may or may not have listened to…a few, songs.”

you couldn't help but laugh, feeling a rush of disbelief, “well," you said, unable to hide the smile on your face, "i guess we both have some fangirling/fanboying to do then.”

seungcheol chuckled before taking a sip of his drink, “looks like we're off to a good start then."

later that evening, as you both settled on the couch to go over the day's events, you found yourself stealing glances at seungcheol when he wasn't looking. the cameras captured every moment, but by now, they had become background noise. seungcheol’s arm rested casually on the back of the couch, his presence reassuring.

"so what did you think of our first day together?" seungcheol asked, turning to you with a gentle smile.

you smiled back, feeling more at ease now. "honestly , it was fun. a bit overwhelming at first, but i think we handled it pretty well."

he nodded, his expression thoughtful. "yeah , i think so too. it’s all about getting comfortable with each other, right?"

you laughed softly, nodding in agreement. "exactly."

as the night continued, the two of you talked about your experiences in the industry, sharing stories and laughing over funny moments. the more you talked, the more you realized how much you had in common. it was easy to forget the cameras were even there.

—

day 5:

it had been a few days of filming and your arranged marriage with the charming seungcheol was off to an...interesting start. between the awkward getting-to-know-you interviews and staged "newlywed" activities for the cameras, you were still trying to find your footing in this bizarre situation.

one minute, you and seungcheol were bickering like an old married couple over whose turn it was to do the dishes, (it would always end with him insisting he did the chore.) the next, you'd catch him shooting you an ambiguous look from under those ridiculously long lashes, causing a fluttery feeling to erupt in your stomach. it was a constant back-and-forth of feeling flustered yet intrigued by your new husband.

today, the production crew had you and seungcheol participate in a silly pillow fight "challenge" meant to showcase your playful newlywed dynamic. what started off as an innocent, goofy bout of whacking each other with the plush objects quickly devolved into an all-out war.

giggling breathlessly, you launched another fluffy projectile at seungcheol’s head, who had now affectionately insisted you call him cheol.

he taunted with a roguish grin, deflecting your pillow attack.

you both scrambled for ammunition, whacking each other relentlessly. you shrieked as a particularly fierce blow sent you tumbling backwards onto the bed.

in a flash, seungcheol pounced - pinning your wrists above your head as he straddled your waist. his sculpted body pressed against yours, stealing your breath away.

"i win," he murmured huskily, drinking in your flushed, disheveled state. a few dark strands of hair had fallen over his forehead, making him look ridiculously pretty and you both froze as the heated tension reached a tipping point, chests heaving from the exertion of your pillow fight.

then, all at once, realization seemed to wash over both of you. this had crossed a line, strayed too far from the realm of pretend into something that felt a little too real for your comfort. seungcheol quickly released your wrists and rolled off you, running a flustered hand through his tousled hair as the cameras cut and the producers applaud your chemistry ‘played up’ for the show.

“i…sorry, i got a bit carried away there," he muttered gruffly, unable to meet your eyes.

you pushed yourself into a sitting position, clutching a pillow protectively to your chest. “no, it's...yeah, me too," you mumbled, cheeks burning.

as seungcheol swiftly excused himself, you couldn't shake the feeling that something deeper and more complicated had been irrevocably awakened on your end, you watched your fake husband’s broad back retreating towards the door, then he paused and glanced over his shoulder at you.

despite the flustered awkwardness of moments before, his gaze openly raked over your disheveled form in a way that made heat lick through your veins. you clutched the pillow tighter, suddenly feeling very exposed under his molten perusal.

as quickly as the blazing look had appeared, it faded to a neutral expression once more as he gave you a brisk nod. "i’ll...see you later," he murmured in a rough rasp before ducking out of the room, leaving you flushed and wondering what the hell had just happened.

—

day 9:

the sweltering summer heat had prompted the producers to film a scene with you and seungcheol enjoying some relaxation at the rooftop pool.

you tried not to stare too openly as seungcheol stripped off his shirt, revealing a toned, sculpted torso that made your mouth go dry. rivulets of glistening water trailed tantalizing paths down those firm abs as he sank into the cool pool with a contented sigh.

“you coming in or what, y/n?" he flashed you a lopsided grin, sending your pulse into an erratic stutter.

shaking yourself free of your momentary thirst, you made a big show of daintily dipping a toe in to test the temperature, “oh my god it’s freezing.” you step out of the water onto the poolside and shiver from the contact.

cheol arches an incredulous brow at your overly dramatic reaction. then without warning, he kicked up an arched wave that splashed you squarely in the face.

you sputtered in outraged shock as he cackled at your drenched, bedraggled state. you cursed at him and then tilted your head, “oh you’re gonna get it now…”

retaliating, you cannonballed directly towards him, prompting a yelp as he tried dodging the cascading wall of water.

what started as an innocent pool dip quickly devolved into an all-out splash fight, filled with laughter and shrieks, water spraying everywhere. at one point, seungcheol grabbed you around the waist from behind, holding you flush against his chest as you squealed and squirmed playfully...

as the sun dipped low on the horizon, it set the sky ablaze with vibrant shades of orange and red bled across the heavens, intermingling with streaks of brilliant pink and lavender. the surface of the rooftop pool shimmered like liquid amber, endlessly rippling and refracting the spectacular colors above.

as the playful battle subsided, you found yourselves standing chest-deep, catching your breath. seungcheol, hair plastered to his forehead, offered you a sheepish grin. his hand, reaching out to brush a stray strand from your eye, hesitated in mid-air.

the air crackled with a sudden tension, a shift from playful banter to something more intense. you held his gaze, unsure of where this unexpected touch might lead. the playful facade, for a moment, seemed to falter, revealing a vulnerability that sent a shiver down your spine.

as the camera crew wrapped their filming of the segment momentarily, cheol leaned against the pool deck, catching his breath, while you treaded water, a satisfied smile playing on your lips.

“you know," seungcheol said, his voice slightly breathless, "for someone who almost drowned me with pool water ten minutes ago - you’re pretty fun to do this whole fake marriage this with.”

his compliment caught you off guard, a blush creeping up your cheeks. you looked away, fiddling with the straps of your swimsuit and snorted, “you would have survived, trust.”

you bit your lip, “but you’re not…awful, to do this with. i’m glad it was you.”

his biceps flexed as he pushed himself off the wall, the water cascading down his toned arms. he smiled and ran a hand through his hair, which was now drying in messy waves.

you had to admit to yourself, in another situation, he was pretty close to your type. your mind took a sharp turn and a thrilling image of cheol, those big arms holding you close, pinning you down. he could easily manhandle you, and the thought sent a forbidden thrill through you.

taking a deep breath, you forced your gaze away from him, the delicious heat replaced by a cold wave of reality.

—

that evening, the producers insisted that as a "newly married couple," you and seungcheol needed to share the bedroom set for an authentic experience. your heart pounded as the camera crew ushered you both into the dimly lit bedroom, pulling the covers back invitingly.

"alright you two, get nice and cozy for us!" the director called out teasingly. "we’ll get some candid footage of your first night spent in the same room together as husband and wife."

you shot seungcheol an awkward look, but he just gave you a reassuring smile as he slipped an arm around your waist, pulling you close. the cameras rolled as you climbed stiffly into bed together, maintaining a prim distance at first.

however, as soon as the crew lights winked off and you were left in intimate shadows, cheol’s touch grew bolder. his arm snaked more fully around you, hand skimming along your curves as he tugged you flush against his solid frame and he watched your face for approval.

"just go with it for the cameras," he murmured in your ear, making you shiver at the feel of his warm breath fanning your neck.

you gave a shaky nod, trying to ignore the rampant spiraling spawning low in your belly from his nearness. but as the man next to you nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, letting out a contented sigh, you felt yourself instinctively relaxing into his embrace.

before long, the camera crew was dismissing themselves, leaving you and seungcheol tangled together intimately. you started to pull away, murmuring about giving him some space, but his arms only tightened around you.

“stay," he rumbled in that deep velvety tone that made heat curl low in your belly. "please. just for tonight."

you couldn't help but overthink the situation as you lay cocooned in seungcheol’s strong arms later that night. his slow, even breathing tickled the nape of your neck as he slumbered peacefully behind you.

this whole scenario - cuddling intimately, sharing a bed, his persistent insistence that you stay - it was quickly becoming difficult for you to differentiate reality and the fake of your friendship, or whatever you could call it.

realistically, there was no way seungcheol actually had romantic feelings for you, right? you were just some virtual stranger he'd been assigned to act affectionate towards for the sake of entertainment.

no, you reasoned to yourself, cheol was simply an incredibly dedicated performer who happened to be devastatingly good-looking. he was merely playing the role of an infatuated newlywed husband exceptionally well. all those lingering looks, the electrifying touches, the way he'd pulled you insistently into his embrace - it was just him staying committed to the act. you were just a tolerable person for him to pretend to be married to for the cameras. that’s all this was. if you started projecting more meaning onto your partner’s actions, reading into lingering touches and heated glances, you'd only end up getting your hopes up and complicating things.

chewing your lip, you willed yourself not to dwell on the intimacy of your current position - pressed snugly back against his toned chest, legs tangled together, breaths mingling. it didn’t mean anything. he was just...really, really good at making this fake marriage feel real.

you lay there for a long while, keenly aware of every rise and fall of seungcheol’s chest against your back, the whisper of his warm breath fanning your nape. his arm was a solid, heated band around your waist, anchoring you to his slumbering form.

carefully, you began extracting yourself from his arms, trying not to rouse him. he made a soft grumbling sound of protest as you slipped out of bed, his arm reflexively tightening for a moment before falling away. you froze, watching him with bated breath, but he merely rolled onto his back with a gusty sigh, face relaxing back into peaceful slumber.

for a long moment, you simply stood there drinking in the sight of him - all tousled ebony hair, chiseled features, lips slightly parted as he slumbered. your heart gave a powerful thud, desperate longing temporarily overwhelming rationality.

then, you wrenched your gaze away, wrapping your arms around yourself as you crept towards the door on soft feet and went to your separate bedroom. this was for the best. putting some distance between you before things inevitably became more tangled and awkward.

—

day 12:

"you’re burning it!" seungcheol suddenly exclaimed, pointing at the pan on the stove where the sauce was starting to smoke.

by late afternoon, you were both working on preparing dinner in the kitchen. the producers had given you a complex recipe to follow, and the pressure was mounting. seungcheol was chopping vegetables while you tried to manage the stove, but things weren't going as planned.

you glanced over, feeling flustered. "i know, i know! i’m trying to fix it!"

"well, you need to do it faster! we can't serve burnt food," he retorted, his tone sharper than you expected.

you felt a surge of irritation. "why don't you come over here and do it then if you're so concerned?"

seungcheol put down the knife he was holding, his jaw tightening. "i’m just trying to help. there’s no need to get defensive."

you turn off the stove and face him, your frustration boiling over. "it feels like you're criticizing everything i’m doing. this is supposed to be fun but—“ you sigh.

seungcheol’s expression softened slightly, but he didn't back down. "i’m not trying to criticize you. i’m just stressed because i want this to turn out well. we’re both under a lot of pressure.”

his words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning. you felt a warmth bloom in your cheeks, a prickling awareness that transcended the confines of the tiny kitchen. it wasn't just the heat from the stove anymore; it was the sudden, electrifying tension that crackled between you.

whatever this "show marriage" was quickly becoming, it was growing increasingly difficult to remember it wasn't real.

his gaze held yours, a storm brewing in his dark eyes. was it just the stress of the competition, or was there something more? maybe it was the way his thumb brushed against yours as he reached for a spatula, a touch that lingered a beat too long. maybe it was the way his voice seemed to drop an octave whenever he spoke directly to you.

the air grew thick, the playful banter of the morning replaced by a charged silence. you weren't talking simply about cooking anymore. this felt like something more, something simmering beneath the surface, threatening to boil over.

suddenly, a loud clang from the living room shattered the spell. the cameraman had accidentally knocked over a vase, the sound breaking the intimate bubble you'd somehow created. seungcheol offered a grin of reconciliation, the tension momentarily broken.

as you both cleaned up the broken vase, a playful jab exchanged here and there, you couldn't shake the feeling that cheol’s feelings for you mirrored your own. maybe it was just wishful thinking, fueled by the close proximity and manufactured intimacy of the show. but a tiny, hopeful spark ignited within you. perhaps, just perhaps, this fake marriage could be a gateway into something else.

the air crackled with an unspoken apology after your argument in the kitchen. the rest of the day was filmed in a tense silence, punctuated only by the polite pleasantries expected for the cameras. seungcheol stole glances at you every now and then, his gaze laced with regret, but you studiously avoided his eyes.

dinner was a quiet affair, the weight of the fight hanging heavy between you. as the last crew member packed up their equipment and said their goodbyes, a heavy sigh escaped seungcheol’s lips. you remembered you only had two more days left with him before you parted ways and continued your daily, busy lives.

you lean against the doorframe of cheol’s assigned bedroom. he’s reading something foreign and doesn’t notice your presence at first. "hey," you started hesitantly, the artificiality of your fabricated married life suddenly feeling suffocating. he looked up, his eyes filled with a vulnerability you hadn't seen before.

"i shouldn't have snapped at you," he said, his voice rough. "this whole thing... the pressure, the cameras... it just — you know, gets to me sometimes.”

you understood. the world only saw the polished, perfect idols on stage, not the stress and anxieties that gnawed at them behind the scenes. partially this show felt like a risk of balance between speculation and approval. “i know," you admitted softly, surprised at the tremor in your voice. "it gets to me too."

silence settled again, but this time it wasn't tense. it was a comfortable quiet, an unspoken understanding blooming between you.

you took a seat on the mattress and asked him what he was reading.

“amour,” he says, flipping the book over to show you the cover.

“amour?" you asked, raising an eyebrow. "isn’t that french for love?"

cheol rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "yeah, it is. found it at the airport bookstore. it’s about a journalist who travels around france asking people about love."

a playful glint sparked in your eyes. "funny," you said, tracing the title with your finger, “didn’t know you were such a romantic.”

a wry smile tugged at the corner of seungcheol's lips. "maybe i’m just curious," he said, his voice dropping to a low murmur that made you nervous. "especially after all this... 'pretend' marriage stuff." he paused, his gaze flickering from the book to your face. "maybe the line between pretending and feeling is a little more blurry than we thought."

he words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning. the playful banter you'd used as a shield these past 2 weeks suddenly felt inadequate. you met his gaze, the air crackling with a new kind of tension.

"maybe it is," you admitted, your voice barely a whisper.

the glint in your eyes softened into something deeper, something that mirrored the sudden intensity in cheol’s gaze. he set his book down on the nightstand with a soft thud, the sound swallowed by the heavy silence that had descended upon the room.

he took a slow movement towards you across the bed, his eyes searching yours with a depth that made your breath catch. you could practically feel the unspoken question hanging in the air, a question your heart already knew the answer to. there was a palpable tension between you, an invisible thread pulling you closer.

without another word, seungcheol closed the remaining distance between you. his hand reached out to cup your cheek, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through you. his thumb brushed against your soft skin, a gentle caress that spoke volumes. it was as if he was trying to communicate everything he felt in that simple touch, the unspoken emotions and the growing connection between you.

his eyes flickered down to your lips before meeting your gaze again, asking for permission without uttering a single word. you gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, your heart pounding in your chest.

then, he leaned in. the kiss was hesitant at first, a soft exploration that tasted of unspoken longing and a newfound vulnerability. hips lips were warm and tender against yours, moving with a gentleness that made your heart ache and charged with the electricity of forbidden desire and the sweetness of a connection that transcended the cameras and the manufactured reality of your "marriage."

as the kiss deepened, seungcheol’s other hand found its way to your waist, pulling you closer. you responded instinctively, your hands sliding up to rest on his broad shoulders. the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in that moment. the kiss grew more passionate, an unspoken promise of the bond forming between you.

his fingers threaded through your hair, tilting your head slightly to deepen the kiss. the heat of his body pressed against yours, and you could feel the rapid beat of his heart mirroring your own. every touch, every movement was filled with a mix of tenderness and urgency, a dance of emotions that neither of you could deny any longer.

in one swift movement, seungcheol lifted you onto his lap, his strong arms wrapping around you securely. the sudden shift made you gasp, breaking the kiss momentarily. he took advantage of your parted lips, diving back in with a new intensity. his hand tangled in your hair, gripping it roughly as he deepened the kiss. the raw hunger in his actions satisfied a need you’d had since the moment you met him and ignited a new thirst in you for more than a kiss.

his lips left yours, trailing hot kisses down your jaw and neck. seungcheol’s breath was warm against your skin, each kiss sending shivers down your spine. "cheol-ie," you breathed out, your voice shaky with desire. "i’ve needed you so bad.”

he groaned against your neck, the sound vibrating through you and making your core tighten with need. "you have no idea how much I’ve wanted you babygirl,” he murmured, his voice rough with longing. the nickname makes you feel weak in his arms as they roam over your back, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you.

you began to move against him, grinding your hips down on his lap. the friction elicited a deep, guttural moan from his chest, his grip on your hair tightening. his lips continued their path along your neck, sucking and nibbling at the sensitive skin. each touch, each kiss, was driving you both closer to the edge.

your hands slid under his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against yours and see the body you’d thought about and fantasized about at the pool. his muscles tensed under your touch, and he let out another low groan. the sound sent a jolt of pleasure straight to your core, making you grind harder against him.

feeling the need for more, you reached for the hem of your top, and without hesitation, cheol’s hands followed suit, helping you remove the garment until it fell forgotten to the floor. his eyes drank in the sight before him, the intensity of his gaze sending a thrill through you. with a passion that matched your own, he leaned in to capture your lips in a feverish kiss, his movements urgent and commanding.

seungcheol’s hands moved to your breasts, his touch sending electric pulses of pleasure coursing through your body. his lips followed suit, trailing hot kisses down your neck and collarbone before finding their way to your exposed skin. the sensation of his warm mouth on your sensitive flesh made you gasp, a moan escaping your lips as you arched into his touch.

as he sucked and massaged your breasts with a hunger that bordered on desperation, you couldn't help but whine his name, the sound echoing in the room like a symphony of desire.

his only response was a deep, guttural groan, the sound vibrating through you.

cheol’s hands moved to your hips, guiding your movements and matching your rhythm. the sensation of his hardness pressing against you was intoxicating, heightening the desire coursing through your veins. “i need you," he whispered hoarsely against your neck, his breath hot and heavy.

you pulled back slightly, just enough to look into his eyes. the intensity you saw there took your breath away. "i need you too, cheol," you whispered back, your voice filled with the same raw need.

"show me," he commanded, his voice dropping to a low, authoritative tone. "show me how much you want me."

you bit your lip and your mind was urging you to shed the last remnants of clothing separating you from seungcheol’s touch. with a sense of urgency, you sat up, for just a moment to rid yourself of your pajama shorts and panties. he gently helped you slip out of the remainder of your clothes until you were completely bare in front of him.

as you returned to straddle him, seungcheol’s eyes darkened with possessiveness, his slightly dumbfounded gaze raking over your exposed form with undisguised lust. you reached for his hand, guiding it to where you needed him most.

his fingers moved in circles with a skill and reverence that bordered on worship. as he teased and caressed you with one hand, his other grabbed the back of your neck to pull you into his orbit.

"cheol," you gasped, your voice filled with need as his touch sent waves of pleasure crashing over you. "pl-please, want you inside of me..”

his response was a low, guttural growl, the sound sending shivers down your spine. he pressed his fingers against your throbbing center, the sensation driving you crazy, and leaned against your ear, “i know angel, i know, need to prep you.”

he slipped two long fingers inside you, his movements slow and deliberate. you couldn't help but arch impossibly back into his touch, a high pitched moan escaping your lips as he filled you completely. his fingers curled inside you and slipped in and out, stretching you and sending waves of pleasure over you that you could feel building closer and closer to your climax.

cheol pulled your face closer to his by your neck as he pumped his fingers in and out of you and whispered in his deep voice words of praise, “you’re so good for me.” his voice was rough in responsive to your obedience.

“such a good girl.”

the words sent a thrill through you, and your breathing that had gotten more quick by the second let all the air escape from your lungs as you completely gave in to the sensations in your body. you reached your peak screaming his name and collapsing onto the bed with your back. now on top of you, cheol guided you down from your high, and his movements became slower and more gentle until his fingers pulled out of you.

you felt his hand move to your lips, gently pressing against them. with a mix of hesitation and curiosity, you parted your lips, allowing cheol to guide his fingers inside your mouth so you could taste yourself.

“that’s it babygirl,” he said, a low groan escaping his lips. the sight of you, so willing and eager for his touch, only fueled the fire burning inside of him. he pulls his fingers from your mouth to press gentle kisses on your lips and your cheek - a sharp contrast from the intensity that had taken over him before.

as the passion of the moment continued to build, you couldn't help but notice the unmistakable hardness pressing against your thigh. seungcheol’s arousal was evident, his desire matching your own in its fervor. a surge of need washed over you, and you found yourself craving him in a way that was almost overwhelming.

desperation clawed at your insides, urging you to beg for him, to plead with him to take you in his arms and fuck you until you saw stars. but as you glanced into his eyes, you saw a flicker of uncertainty, a hint of fear lurking beneath the surface.

you reached for him, your fingers tracing the outline of his arousal through his pants. the intensity of his desire was palpable, sending a jolt of electricity coursing through you. you wanted him, needed him, in a way that bordered on obsession. but as you moved to undo his pants, you felt him hesitate, his hands shaking slightly. "i…i don’t know if i can," he whispered hoarsely, his voice filled with a sigh.

you whispered, your voice soft and filled with sincerity. "i want this, with you."

a flicker of relief flashed across his features, his shoulders relaxing slightly at your words. but the worry still lingered in his eyes, the fear of causing you pain evident in every line of his expression. he reached down to free his member from the confines of his sweatpants, discarding the clothing with a swift movement. as his length sprang free, you couldn't help but gasp at the sight before you. he was almost comically big, his arousal standing proudly against his abdomen, thick and pulsing with desire.

a mix of excitement and nervousness coursed through you as you watched him, desire pooling low in your belly. you couldn't help but wonder how he was going to fit inside of you, the thought sending a thrill of anticipation racing through you. seungcheol reached for his wallet on the nightstand, retrieving a condom with practiced ease and slipped it on.

cheol lifted your legs over his head, moving himself between them, a gasp escaped your lips at the sudden change in position. you felt him slowly enter you, his size stretching you in a way that was both exhilarating and slightly painful. the stretch stung, sending a jolt of sensation coursing through your body, but it was unlike anything you had ever felt before. he had to be the biggest you'd ever had, filling you completely and leaving you breathless with desire.

“‘s-so big,” was all you could breathe out with awe in your voice.

“you’re so fucking tight,” he murmured with both hands holding your legs over his shoulder so he could stretch you out as much as possible. bottoming out, he studied your face for signs of discomfort and deciding he could move. as seungcheol began to thrust gently at first, you felt his movements cautious and tender, as if he were testing the waters. each slow push and pull sent waves of pleasure rippling through you, his size stretching you in ways that ignited a fire deep within.

“feels so fucking good, your perfect pussy…” he groans into your neck.

you couldn't help but vocalize how good you felt as well, “don’t stop baby, please.”

something about that nickname makes his movements became more urgent, more desperate, as he surrendered himself to the pleasure of being inside you. with each thrust, you felt yourself being pushed closer and closer to the edge, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable crescendo. his thrusts became rougher, more dominant, as he took control of the rhythm. with a growl of desire, he reached for your throat, his grip firm but not constricting.

the sensation of his hand around your neck sent a shockwave of pleasure coursing through you, the combination of pleasure and pain driving you wild with desire. "who makes you feel this good?" he demanded, his voice rough with need.

you gasped at the sensation, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable peak. "you," you screamed, your voice filled with rawness. "It's you, cheol."

he flipped you over onto your hands and knees, positioning you perfectly for him to take you from behind. you gasped at the sudden change in position, the feeling of vulnerability and excitement coursing through you. but before you could react, seungcheol’s hands were on you, grabbing your ass possessively as he pulled you towards him. the sensation of his grip on your flesh sent a shiver of pleasure down your spine, curved for him to hit your perfect angle.

as you thought you couldn't take any more, you felt his hand tangle in your hair, pulling you back towards him with a force that left you breathless. “want you to be mine..” he choked out, his words claiming you.

“‘m yours," you gasped, your voice surrendering yourself completely. with a final, desperate thrust, cheol buried himself deep inside you, sending you both hurtling over the edge into ecstasy. pleasure exploded through every nerve ending in your body as you both reached the peak together, your cries of passion mingling in the air as you rode out the waves of bliss together.

seungcheol slowly withdrew from you and as you caught your breathe, he removed the condom, discarding it thoughtfully before turning his attention back to you. his demeanor shifted, his previous intensity giving way to a tender concern. leaning in, he pressed soft kisses to your tired face, his touch gentle and reassuring. "are you okay?" he whispered, his voice filled with genuine concern as he traced a soothing hand along your sweaty cheek.

you nodded, a contented smile gracing your lips as you bask in the warmth of his affection.

he tenderly cleaned you with a warm, damp cloth that he quickly fetched from the bathroom, his movements gentle and careful as he ensured tour comfort. once satisfied, he disposed of the cloth and returned to your side, pulling the covers over the both of your naked bodies.

you lay in each other's arms, the quiet of the room enveloping them like a comforting embrace. the air was filled with a sense of contentment but also questions rang through your mind. unable to contain your curiosity any longer, you spoke up. "cheol, earlier... did you mean what you said?" you asked, her voice tentative yet filled with hope.

seungcheol turned to you, his gaze soft yet filled with meaning. “every word," he replied, his voice steady and sure. “if you want — then you’re mine, and i’m yours.”

your mind buzzed with uncertainty and you sigh, snuggling closer to him. the realization that your time together on the show was fleeting weighed heavily on your heart, casting a shadow over the intimacy you had shared.

"seungcheol," you begin, switching from the nickname you’d been using. “i can’t help but wonder...after filming ends, what happens to us? we haven't known each other for long, and...” you gnawed at your lip, “what if we’re just caught in the moment?”

his expression faltered, a flicker of hurt flashing across his features at your words. he had been so certain of your connection, so confident in the depth of your feelings for each other, that your doubts came as a painful blow.

he reached out, his hand trembling slightly as he gently cupped your chin, guiding your gaze to meet his. "caught in the moment?" he repeated, his voice filled with an anxiety-ridden tone you had never heard before. "is that really what you think this is?"

your chest clenched at the anguish in seungcheol’s eyes, the weight of your words settling heavily between the two of you. you hadn't meant to hurt him, hadn't realized the impact your doubts would have on him.

"no, seungcheol, that's not what i meant," you hurried to explain, sitting up — your voice thick with regret. "i just... i’m scared. scared that what we have isn't enough to survive once the cameras stop rolling."

seungcheol sat up, shoulders slumped, the weight of your uncertainty pressing down on him like a boulder. "i need some time to think," he said, his voice strained. without another word, he stood up, dressed himself with the clothes he’d discarded on the floor as you protested, and left the room, the sound of the door closing behind him echoing through the silence.

you curled up under the covers, the emptiness of the room amplifying the loneliness you felt.

—

day 13:

the next morning dawned with a heavy sense of awkwardness hanging in the air. as you emerged from your room, the weight of last night’s conversation still pressed on your chest. cheol was already in the kitchen, his back turned to you as he prepared breakfast. the usual warmth and easy smiles were conspicuously absent.

"good morning," you said softly, trying to break the tension.

"morning," he replied flatly, not turning to face you. his tone was distant, a stark contrast to the intimate moments you had shared just hours before.

breakfast was a quiet affair, the silence between you filled with unspoken words and unresolved emotions. every clink of cutlery felt amplified, every glance avoided a reminder of the rift that had formed.

filming started shortly after, the crew bustling around to set up the day’s scenes. you and seungcheol went through the motions, but the chemistry that had once made your interactions effortless now felt forced. the cameras captured your strained smiles and awkward pauses, the tension between you palpable.

by the end of the day, the weight of the unspoken words and unresolved tension was nearly unbearable. as the crew packed up and the lights dimmed, you felt a deep sense of despair settle in. the connection that had once felt so strong now seemed fragile.

the newly familiar routine of brushing your teeth and changing into pajamas felt strangely hollow without seungcheol’s presence by your side. as you slipped under the covers, the cool sheets seemed to amplify the emptiness of the space beside you.

—

day 14:

the next day dawned with a sense of finality, the knowledge that it was the last day of filming adding a layer of bittersweet tension to the air. you went through your morning routine mechanically, each action feeling heavy with the weight of the unspoken words and unresolved emotions between you and your fake husband.

the filming started early, the crew bustling around to capture the last few scenes of your time together. you and seungcheol interacted politely, tension still lingering. you found yourself stealing glances at him, wishing for a moment alone to bridge the gap, but the demands of filming left little room for personal conversations. the day moved swiftly, and before you knew it, it was time for the post-show interview.

—

post-show interview:

you sat in the brightly lit room, the camera trained on you as the producer asked the final questions. the weight of the moment pressed on you, and you took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves.

interviewer: "so, how do you feel now that the show is ending?”

her voice was gentle but probing.

you paused, considering your words carefully. "its been an amazing experience," you began, your voice trembling slightly. "i’ve learned so much about myself and about what i want in a relationship. and...i’ve come to care for seungcheol deeply. more than i expected."

the interviewer leaned in, sensing the depth of your emotions.

interviewer: “can you elaborate on that? how has your relationship with seungcheol evolved?"

you nodded, your heart pounding. "at first, it was just about getting to know each other, but as the days went by, i found myself feeling…a certain way about him. he’s kind, supportive, and has this way of making me feel seen and valued. i’ve realized that i fell for him and that my feelings were real.”

a pang of regret hit you, remembering your doubts and the hurt in cheol’s eyes. you wondered if you should share your feelings fully, fearing the consequences of the media. but then, you decided—if there was a chance that he would see this interview when the show aired, perhaps he would understand the depth of your feelings and know that you regretted your words.

“i’ve fallen for seungcheol," you confessed, your voice breaking slightly. "and i regret the doubts i voiced. i wish i could take them back. i hope... i hope he can see how much he means to me."

the interviewer smiled softly, sensing the raw emotion in your words and the scoop she had just gotten. “thank you for sharing that," she said gently. "it’s clear that this experience has been transformative for you."

—

the weeks after the show wrapped up were a whirlwind of activity as you dived back into your work. your agency had announced a comeback, and preparations were in full swing, leaving little time for anything else. yet, despite the hectic schedule, thoughts of seungcheol lingered in the back of your mind, a constant undercurrent to your busy days. you cherished the rare quiet moments in your dorm, where you could catch up with your girl friends or simply relax. even during these times, you found yourself checking your phone, hoping for a message from the person you longed for. as the days passed with no word, a sense of uncertainty grew, mingled with the hope that he would reach out once the show aired.

when the show finally did air, you watched your post-show interview with bated breath, wondering how seungcheol would react. the raw honesty of your confession, the vulnerability you had shown, left you feeling exposed but kept you waiting next to your phone.

then, the call came. hearing cheol’s voice, filled with emotion and understanding, was like a balm to your weary heart. his words of reconciliation and his desire to give your relationship a real chance were everything you had hoped for. the prospect of meeting him off-camera, to explore your connection without the pressures of the show, filled you with a renewed sense of excitement and somewhat worry.

the next day, you found yourself standing outside a small, cozy café, your heart racing with anticipation. the door opened, and there he was—your same old cheol, looking just as nervous and hopeful as you felt.

he smiled as he saw you, a genuine, heartfelt smile that made your heart flutter. "hey," he said softly, stepping closer.

"hey," you replied, your voice quiet and your eyes watery.

without another word, he pulled you into a hug, holding you close. the warmth of his embrace, the familiar scent of him, it all felt right.

you both sat down, ordering drinks and talking about everything and nothing. the conversation flowed easily, the tension from the show slowly melting away as you reconnected on a deeper, more personal level.

"i’ve been thinking about you every day," he confessed, his hand reaching out to cover yours. "i want to explore this, see where it leads. no cameras, no scripts—just us."

you nodded, tears of happiness glistening in your eyes. "i want that too, cheol. i want us to have a real chance."

as seungcheol and you left the café, a small crowd had gathered outside, eager to catch a glimpse of the two of you together. camera flashes illuminated the sidewalk as fan-sites and news networks alike snapped photos, their interest palpable in the air. reporters shouted questions, their voices blending into a cacophony of speculation about your relationship.

online, netizens dissected every detail, analyzing photos and videos from the show and your recent café outing. comments and posts flooded social media platforms, with hashtags trending worldwide. the public's curiosity and excitement seemed to know no bounds as they speculated about the nature of your relationship.

cheol took to his instagram, posting a photo of the two of you holding hands outside the café with a quote from “amour,” the novel he had read previously.

— “ there will come a time when you believe everything is finished; that will be the beginning. “

—

end.

[synity]

DID I EARNED YOUR LOVE, MY DEAR?

(Choi Seungcheol x FemReader)

*Single parent romance, slow-burn, Domestic Life, soft love, Romance, CEO AU, YN as a Lawyer, Drama, Rich Man Trope, Emotional Healing, Emotional Angst, Soft Male Lead, Domestic Bliss, Wholesome short Smut*

The sun was beginning to set behind the tall buildings, casting long shadows over the busy park. The squeals of children echoed as they ran across the grass, their parents trailing behind with strollers or iced coffees. Somewhere on a wooden bench, Y/N sat a tired but elegant figure, dressed in business-casual slacks, hair pinned back in a loose bun, watching her daughter tug at her coat sleeve.

"Mommy, can I have ice cream, please?" her daughter pleaded, big brown eyes wide and hopeful.

Y/N sighed softly, offering a strained smile. “Sweetheart, not today. You already had sweets at daycare, remember?”

“But that was a cookie,” the little girl argued, crossing her arms with a pout. “That doesn’t count.”

Y/N chuckled under her breath, pinching the bridge of her nose. Between meetings, case files, and chasing her deadlines, she hadn’t even had time for lunch or for herself. Being a full-time lawyer and a single mom wasn’t just exhausting it was isolating. No one really understood the weight unless they were living it too.

She looked down at her daughter, heart softening. “I know, baby. I just Mommy doesn’t have the money for extra things today, okay?”

“Okay…” came the soft reply, barely audible. The pout deepened as the little girl looked longingly at the ice cream truck a few feet away.

Just then, a shadow appeared beside them. Y/N turned, instinctively cautious, until her eyes landed on a tall man in a perfectly tailored suit. His hair was swept back neatly, eyes warm but slightly amused, and his wrist well, it gleamed with the unmistakable shine of a Rolex Daytona. Behind him on the street, a Lamborghini Veneno, sleek and silver, shimmered in the dying sunlight.

“Excuse me,” the man said, voice smooth and deep. “I couldn’t help but overhear... ice cream dilemma?”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard. “Um”

He smiled. “Would it be alright if I offered to treat your daughter to one? Just one scoop. No pressure.”

She stared at him suspiciously. “Do we... know each other?”

He chuckled softly. “No. Sorry. That must’ve sounded strange.” He crouched slightly to her daughter’s level. “Hi, little one. I’m Seungcheol.”

The girl looked up at her mom, unsure.

Y/N hesitated. “I appreciate the offer, but I don’t want to teach her to take things from strangers.”

Seungcheol nodded, standing back up respectfully. “That’s a good instinct. You’re a lawyer, aren’t you?”

She arched a brow. “How do you know that?”

He smiled, almost sheepishly. “I recognize you. Y/N, right? You handled the civil case against KJH Tech a few months ago. Brilliant defense.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly, recognition dawning. “...You’re Choi Seungcheol. CEO of Empire Group.”

“In the flesh,” he grinned.

Now that he’d introduced himself, her daughter lit up. “Mommy, is he a superhero?”

Seungcheol laughed. “Something like that. I do fight a lot of evil board meetings.”

Y/N let out a reluctant laugh, softening just a little. “She’s only four. You don’t have to charm her.”

“Too late,” her daughter said, already stepping toward the ice cream truck. “He’s already charming.”

Y/N stared at her daughter, then at Seungcheol, whose expression was full of restrained amusement.

“You’re unbelievable,” she muttered under her breath.

“Just helping a tiny negotiator get her dessert. Shall we?” he offered, and with a small sigh, Y/N followed them toward the truck.

Moments later, the three of them sat on the bench. The little girl had her rainbow sherbet. Seungcheol had declined one for himself, though he sat comfortably beside Y/N, jacket unbuttoned and shirt sleeves rolled up.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Y/N said softly, watching her daughter swing her legs happily.

“I know,” he replied. “But I wanted to. I remember what it’s like growing up wanting something and being told no because of adult stuff. Sometimes... one scoop of ice cream can mean a lot.”

She glanced at him again, this time with less wariness. There was something honest in his words something deeper.

“You have kids?” she asked.

He shook his head. “No. Not yet. But I do have a little nephew. And a lot of lonely days in empty penthouses.”

That caught her off guard. She smiled, just slightly. “Is that your way of saying you’re lonely?”

He glanced at her, playful yet sincere. “Maybe.”

They fell into a comfortable silence, watching the pink sky fade into purple as the city lights came alive.

Y/N glanced at her watch. “It’s getting late.”

Her daughter was licking the last of the rainbow sherbet from the paper cup, cheeks sticky, eyes sleepy.

“I’ll call a cab,” Y/N said, standing up and brushing off her slacks.

Seungcheol rose too. “Actually, if you’re comfortable, I could give you a ride home. I’m parked right over there.” He gestured to the Veneno, gleaming under a streetlight like something out of a dream.

Y/N hesitated. Every cautionary instinct in her head flared but he had been nothing but respectful, kind, and patient.

Her daughter looked up hopefully. “Can we go in the shiny car?”

Y/N narrowed her eyes. “You don’t even know his middle name.”

“Mr. Choi enough,” the little one declared.

Y/N sighed. “Fine. But I’ll sit in the back with her. And if you drive like you’re in a Fast & Furious movie, I’m reporting you.”

He grinned. “Deal.”

The ride was... surprisingly quiet. Classical music played softly through the speakers not what she expected from a man with that much horsepower. Y/N watched her daughter doze off beside her, head resting on her lap, while Seungcheol navigated through the city with one hand on the wheel and a soft calm over his features.

“Do you always drive this slow?” she teased.

“I drive like I have something to lose,” he answered, without looking back.

That silenced her.

They arrived outside her apartment complex modest, clean, with flower boxes on every balcony.

Seungcheol turned off the ignition but didn’t unbuckle.

“Thanks for today,” Y/N said, lifting her daughter gently into her arms.

“Of course,” he replied, stepping out to open her door. “Listen... if it’s not weird, I’d like to see you both again sometime.”

Y/N blinked. “Why?”

He shrugged. “you seem like someone I want to know.”

“I’m a single mom. I barely have time for myself.”

“Then maybe I can help change that,” he said softly.

She looked at him, long and hard, then smiled faintly. You’re persistent.”

“I’m rich and lonely. I have time.”

Y/N snorted, shaking her head. “Good night, Mr. Choi.”

“Good night, Y/N.”

As she walked away, he watched her not with desire, not with pity, but with genuine interest. For the first time in years, he felt pulled by someone not because of their beauty or charm... but because of the quiet strength she didn’t even know she had.

A few days passed.

Then, a knock at her office door.

Y/N looked up from her files to see the receptionist peek in.

“Someone’s here for you,” she whispered. “And... he brought coffee.”

Y/N frowned. “I didn’t order—”

Before she could finish, Seungcheol stepped in, holding two cups and a paper bag.

“I bribed your assistant,” he said simply.

Y/N blinked. “How do you know where I work?”

“You told me you were a lawyer,” he said. “I googled.”

“You stalked me.”

“I researched.”

She sighed but couldn’t hide her small smile. “What’s in the bag?”

“Chocolate croissants. And patience. I figured you skipped breakfast again.”

She stared at him, then at the food, then back at him.

“You’re not going to leave until I accept it, are you?”

“I own half the city. I have nowhere else to be.”

Reluctantly, she took the coffee. “Thanks.”

He didn’t sit. He didn’t push. He just said, “Take care of yourself, Y/N. That little girl needs her superhero in full form.”

And then he left.

That night, she stared at the untouched croissant on her kitchen counter. And for the first time in a while... she smiled to herself.

Two weeks had passed.

Y/N had been busier than ever with a heavy case load, long evenings, and rushed mornings. But amidst all the chaos, something had changed. A slow warmth lingered in her chest at the thought of Seungcheol. She didn’t know what to call it yet. Interest? Curiosity? Hope?

Her daughter still talked about him every night before bed “the ice cream friend.” She even drew a picture of the three of them, taped it to the fridge, and gave him bunny ears. Y/N hadn’t taken it down.

So when her phone buzzed that Friday afternoon, she wasn’t entirely surprised to see his name.

SEUNGCHEOL: “I have a plus two ticket to the Seoul Skyline Gala. No pressure. But there will be cotton candy. For the both of you.”

She laughed under her breath.

Y/N: “Cotton candy is bribery.”

SEUNGCHEOL: “Bribery only works if I know your favorite color too. Purple?”

She rolled her eyes.

Y/N: “Fine. But only for her.”

SEUNGCHEOL: “Then I’ll see you at 7.”

She had no idea how he did it, but when she stepped outside with her daughter in a cute little dress, a full black sedan was already waiting. And inside it?

Seungcheol, in a perfectly tailored charcoal suit, standing beside the car, adjusting his cuffs.

“You clean up well,” Y/N commented.

“I had to match my dates.”

He reached out his hand not to her, but to her daughter, who took it gleefully and skipped beside him. Y/N blinked. Her chest clenched, and she didn’t know why.

The Seoul Skyline Gala was a rooftop event filled with glittering lights, classical music, and elite guests. But none of that mattered.

Because the moment Seungcheol placed cotton candy in her daughter’s hands and knelt down to her eye level, everything else disappeared.

He wasn’t a billionaire CEO.

He wasn’t a man in a suit and Rolex.

He was just... kind.

And safe.

Y/N stood beside the glass railing, sipping champagne, watching them laugh together.

“Thank you,” she said when he returned.

“For what?”

“For being kind to her. For not treating this like some... weird conquest.”

Seungcheol looked at her gently. “I don’t chase people, Y/N. I just… stay close enough so they know I’m not going anywhere.”

Her eyes softened.

He continued, voice lower. “What happened to you?”

Her breath caught. “What do you mean?”

“You carry yourself like you’re holding glass under your skin.”

She looked away. “My ex-husband cheated. He left after five years. Claimed he wanted more. Said I was... too much of a mother and not enough of a wife.”

Seungcheol's jaw tightened, but he didn’t interrupt.

“I spent the next two years proving I didn’t need anyone. That I could do everything alone. And I can. But it’s... exhausting.”

He stayed silent for a moment, then asked gently, “And now?”

“Now?” she whispered. “I’m scared to trust anyone who makes things feel easy again.”

Seungcheol reached into his jacket pocket. Pulled out a napkin. He carefully folded it, then gently dabbed at the tear on her cheek.

“I’m not easy,” he said. “I’m just consistent.”

That night, as he dropped them off again, her daughter fell asleep in the back seat pink cotton candy still clutched in her small hand.

Y/N turned to him before stepping out.

“She’s growing attached.”

He didn’t look away. “So am I.”

It happened on a quiet Saturday morning.

Y/N had taken the day off for the first time in weeks, letting herself rest in the little cocoon of her apartment. Her daughter was drawing in the living room, soft music playing in the background, the kind only comfort knows.

Then her phone buzzed.

SEUNGCHEOL: “You said she liked pancakes. I’m outside. No pressure.”

She opened the door, and there he stood, again — navy sweater, hair tousled, holding a paper bag with a sheepish smile.

“Blueberry or banana?” he asked.

“Both,” she smiled back.

He stepped inside. No fanfare. No grandeur. Just warmth.

They sat on the floor, three plates between them. Her daughter perched in Seungcheol’s lap like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And then it happened.

She looked up from her pancakes, pointed her tiny fork at him and said, “Appa, can I have juice?”

Y/N froze. So did Seungcheol.

A hush filled the room. Her chest tightened not from fear, but from the weight of what it meant. She turned toward him, ready to apologize, but he only smiled.

A slow, warm, careful smile.

“Of course you can,” he whispered, standing up to grab the juice box from the fridge like nothing happened.

Like it was the most natural thing in the world.

That night, after putting her daughter to sleep, Y/N sat in the living room, knees pulled to her chest, eyes distant. She hadn’t cried not yet but the emotion pressed tightly against her ribs.

Then came the knock.

Seungcheol stood at the doorway again. “Couldn’t sleep,” he said.

She let him in wordlessly.

They sat beside each other, not touching, not speaking until Y/N finally let her shoulders fall.

“I don’t know how to do this,” she said. “I thought I was doing okay on my own.”

“You were,” he answered. “You are. But you don’t have to be alone to be strong.”

She turned her head, looked at him.

“I’m scared,” she admitted, voice trembling. “What if she gets used to you? And you walk away too?”

He met her gaze with all the gravity of a man who had already made up his mind.

“i would never leave you.”

His words were so soft they barely existed. But they anchored everything inside her.

Then and only then she let herself fall forward, into his chest. His arms wrapped around her instinctively. Gentle. Firm. Present.

Her voice was muffled in his shoulder.

“She called you Appa.”

“i heard,” he whispered.

“does it scare you?”

He pulled back, just enough to look at her face. Then leaned forward, pressed a kiss to her forehead reverent, unhurried.

“No,” he said. “It makes me want to earn it.”

The mornings started to feel warmer.

It wasn’t the weather it was Seungcheol. Showing up with freshly brewed coffee, tying her daughter’s shoelaces while whistling a tune, helping with homework at night, or building a bookshelf in the living room while she cooked.

He never asked for anything in return. Not even her heart.

But he was earning it one small, selfless act at a time.

Y/N caught herself smiling more. Laughing at the dumb dad jokes he told over breakfast. Resting her head on his shoulder while they watched late-night documentaries neither of them could finish.

Even her daughter had changed. Brighter. More talkative. She beamed every time Seungcheol entered the room.

One night, after a quiet dinner, Y/N said, “You know you don’t have to do all of this.”

Seungcheol only looked up with those warm, steady eyes. “I know. But I want to.”

It was on a Friday evening that the past tried to claw its way back.

Y/N had just returned from the grocery store, balancing bags in both hands, her daughter trailing behind. When she turned the corner toward her apartment, she froze.

Her ex was standing at the door.

Tall, sharp, polished like the lawyer he always was. Cold eyes. Crooked smirk.

“You blocked my number,” he said casually. “Figured I’d come by instead.”

Y/N stepped in front of her daughter instinctively. “Leave.”

“I just want to see her.”

“She’s not a visit. She’s a person.”

He stepped forward. “You’re not the only parent—”

“Is there a problem?” The voice came from behind. Deep. Calm. Seungcheol.

He was dressed down in sweatpants and a hoodie, holding a small cake box the one her daughter loved from the bakery downtown. But there was no warmth in his eyes now. Just protective fire.

Her ex blinked. “Who are you?”

Seungcheol set the box down carefully on the bench.

“I’m the man who shows up. The one who’s here every day. And the one you’ll step away from if you know what’s good for you.”

For the first time in a long time, Y/N saw fear flicker in her ex’s expression.

“This is between me and her,” he snapped.

Seungcheol stepped in front of Y/N, eyes unflinching. “No. Not anymore.”

He didn’t leave her side after that.

Not that night. Not the next day. He even made a point to speak with her lawyer, just in case. Not because he wanted to take over but because he cared.

Y/N finally let herself cry in the safety of his arms, whispering, “Thank you… I didn’t know I needed that.”

Seungcheol brushed her hair back gently, kissing her temple.

“You deserve someone who makes you feel safe.”

She stared up at him, heart thudding. “You really aren’t going anywhere, are you?”

He smiled that soft, unshakable Seungcheol smile. “Not unless you make me.”

Seungcheol had barely stepped out of his fifth meeting of the day when his phone buzzed quietly on the glass table.

Y/N [2:12 PM]: “Don’t forget to eat something, Cheol. We miss you.”

His heart softened. Sweat trickled down his temple as he slipped off his suit jacket, loosening his tie. The conference room was quiet now, just him and the lingering scent of espresso. He stared at her message longer than he needed to.

He hadn’t been home in two nights. Back-to-back board meetings, investor dinners, press releases. His company was merging with another global enterprise, and he had no choice but to carry the weight of the entire operation on his shoulders.

But no matter how many zeros were in his bank account, nothing tugged at his soul quite like missing time with Y/N and her daughter.

No their daughter. He hadn’t said it out loud yet, but that’s how it felt.

That night, Y/N sat at the kitchen table alone. Her daughter, Minji, was drawing little hearts on a napkin with a pink crayon. The house was quieter than usual.

“Mommy,” Minji asked, head tilting. “Is he busy again today?”

Y/N forced a smile, tucking a strand of hair behind Minji’s ear. “He is, baby. He’s got very big responsibilities.”

“But he said he’d read me the new penguin story.”

Y/N's heart squeezed.

Just then, the door clicked.

Minji jumped to her feet, eyes wide. “daddy!”

Seungcheol stood in the entryway, hair messy, still in a suit but without the tie, holding a large penguin plushie.

“I heard someone was waiting for storytime,” he smiled breathlessly.

Minji ran into his arms, knocking the plushie down. Y/N watched in surprise as Seungcheol sank to his knees, scooping her up.

“I told you I’d make it. I always keep my promises,” he whispered, brushing a kiss on Minji’s forehead.

He looked up at Y/N, his eyes heavy with exhaustion and love. “And I missed you too.”

A few days later, Seungcheol had a major shareholders gala. The venue buzzed with elite guests, journalists, and flashing cameras. Y/N had decided not to attend Minji wasn’t feeling well.

But Seungcheol couldn’t stop thinking about them.

He pulled away from a conversation about crypto integration to check his phone. No message. He frowned.

When he returned home late that night, the lights were dim. Y/N was asleep on the couch, Minji curled beside her. A cup of untouched chamomile tea sat on the side table.

He knelt next to them, brushing his fingers through Y/N’s hair, then gently covered them with a blanket.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be here tonight,” he whispered.

Before leaving for his morning flight the next day, he left a box on the kitchen counter.

Inside: a silver bracelet with Minji’s name engraved, and a note:

“You’re the rhythm to my days. The reason I work this hard. I’m yours, always. -Cheol”

A week later, Seungcheol hosted a staff appreciation dinner. Y/N and Minji arrived to support him, and the sight of them made him grin like a fool.

He bent down to Minji’s level. “You look like a princess.”

Minji beamed. “And you’re the king”

One of his board members leaned down. “And who is this young lady to you, CEO Choi?”

Minji answered for him.

“I’m his daughter!”

A ripple of surprised smiles went around the table.

Seungcheol didn’t even flinch. “Yes. She is.”

That night, in their bedroom, Y/N turned to him, emotional.

“Cheol... you didn’t have to say that in front of everyone.”

He gently cupped her face. “It’s not a secret, Y/N. I love you both. You're my family. Even when I can’t be around all the time, you’re the reason I do any of this.”

She teared up quietly, leaning into his chest.

Minji peeked from the door, rubbing her eyes. “Can I sleep with you two?”

Seungcheol smiled, opening his arms. “Always.”

That night, the CEO who ruled boardrooms with his cold gaze lay tangled in soft limbs, with a little girl snoring against his chest, and the love of his life resting on his shoulder.

Even in his busiest days, he never forgot where home truly was.

Y/N was hesitant at first leaving Minji with her brother Mingyu wasn’t something she did often. But after the whirlwind of deadlines and meetings, Seungcheol insisted she take a night off.

“Mingyu’s a pro,” Seungcheol said with a grin, slipping on his coat. “He’ll keep Minji entertained and safe.”

Mingyu, ever the charming and easygoing older brother, flashed his signature smile. “Don’t worry, sis. I got this. We’ll have fun. Right, Minji?”

Minji nodded enthusiastically, already clutching her favorite storybook.

As soon as Y/N stepped out, the house shifted into a quieter rhythm. Mingyu immediately made a fortress of cushions and blankets in the living room, transforming the space into a mini castle.

“Princess Minji, your knight has arrived!” Mingyu announced, brandishing a toy sword.

Minji giggled, eyes sparkling. “I’m the queen!”

The two spent hours building the fortress, reading stories, and watching cartoons. Mingyu even attempted to bake cookies with hilarious results as the kitchen ended up covered in flour.

At one point, Minji tugged on Mingyu’s sleeve. “Can we play the dance game now?”

Mingyu laughed and pulled her up. “Only if you promise to win.”

Their laughter echoed warmly through the house, a soft contrast to the elegance awaiting Y/N just miles away.

Meanwhile, Seungcheol had planned every detail to perfection.

The restaurant was a hidden gem an exquisite rooftop venue overlooking the city skyline, bathed in soft golden light and the shimmer of stars.

Seungcheol took Y/N’s hand as they stepped onto the terrace. She was stunning in a simple yet elegant dress, cheeks flushed from the cool evening air.

“Cheol,” she whispered, heart fluttering, “this is beautiful.”

He smiled, pulling out her chair with a gentleman’s grace.

As they dined on delicate dishes, their conversation flowed effortlessly about dreams, struggles, and the small moments that made life extraordinary.

Then, as dessert arrived a delicate chocolate soufflé adorned with fresh berries Seungcheol stood.

“Y/N,” he began, voice steady yet filled with emotion, “from the moment I met you and Minji, my world changed. You’ve given me a family, a home I never knew I needed.”

He reached into his pocket and produced a small velvet box.

“I don’t want to imagine my future without you in it. Will you marry me?”

Tears brimmed in Y/N’s eyes as she nodded, unable to speak.

Seungcheol slid the ring onto her finger a simple band with a sparkling diamond that caught the light like her smile.

Back at home, Mingyu was settling Minji into bed when her phone buzzed.

A picture popped up Y/N’s hand glowing with the ring, and Seungcheol’s smiling face beside her.

Mingyu clapped his hands excitedly.

Morning After

Sunlight spilled softly through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the quiet house. Y/N woke slowly, the sparkling ring still snug on her finger, a gentle reminder of last night’s unforgettable moment.

Beside her, the soft breathing of Minji filled the room. Carefully, Y/N sat up, smiling as she watched her daughter sleep peacefully, the peacefulness a stark contrast to the storm of emotions in her heart.

The door creaked open and Mingyu slipped inside, holding two steaming mugs of coffee and a sleepy but excited Minji trailing behind him.

“Morning, sleepyheads,” Mingyu whispered, setting the mugs down on the bedside table.

Minji climbed up onto the bed, her eyes bright with curiosity.

“Mama, Mama!” she squealed, pulling at Y/N’s hand. “Is the pretty shiny thing new? What’s that?”

Y/N looked down at her hand, then at her daughter’s eager face, and laughed softly.

“Yes, it’s new. Daddy gave it to me. He asked me to marry him.”

Minji’s eyes widened in awe.

“Really? Like a princess and a prince?”

Y/N nodded, brushing Minji’s hair back.

“Exactly like that. And you, my little princess, are part of our family forever.”

Minji beamed, wrapping her tiny arms around Y/N.

“I’m so happy, Mama.”

Mingyu chuckled from the doorway, leaning casually.

“You two look really good together. Seungcheol’s lucky.”

Y/N smiled, squeezing Minji’s hand.

“This is just the beginning.”

The Wedding Day

Sunlight spilled through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the bridal suite, painting everything in hues of soft gold and warm pink. Y/N lay on the plush chaise lounge, her heart fluttering with a mix of excitement and nerves. Today wasn’t just a celebration it was a milestone she’d never dared imagine for herself: marrying Seungcheol, the man who had broken through every wall she’d built around her heart, the man who loved her and her daughter fiercely.

The room was quiet except for the soft murmur of the makeup artist’s brushes and the gentle hum of the city beyond. Y/N’s gown hung on a nearby rack an elegant ivory masterpiece embroidered with delicate lace and tiny pearls that shimmered faintly. It was perfect, like a dream she was only half awake for.

Her fingers traced the intricate fabric, and a warm smile tugged at her lips. She thought back to the very first time Seungcheol had truly seen her beyond her guarded exterior at the park with Minji, her daughter. The memory made her heart ache with how far they had come.

A knock came at the door. The florist arrived with a final bouquet of gardenias and white roses, their scent delicate yet intoxicating. She inhaled deeply, feeling grounded.

“Are you ready?” the makeup artist asked softly.

Y/N nodded. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

Downstairs, the garden was transformed into a scene from a fairy tale. White chairs lined both sides of a long aisle adorned with soft petals. Elegant chandeliers hung from the branches of ancient oaks, casting a magical glow. Friends and close family mingled quietly, their faces bright with anticipation.

Seungcheol stood at the altar, every inch the composed and charismatic man everyone admired. His tuxedo fit him like a second skin, crisp and tailored. But the moment his eyes found Y/N’s as she appeared at the end of the aisle, the strong CEO melted away, replaced by a man utterly vulnerable and utterly in love.

His breath hitched the tiniest bit as she moved toward him, the soft click of her heels a steady rhythm that matched his pounding heart.

Their vows were exchanged with shaking hands and tears. Seungcheol’s voice was thick with emotion.

“I vow to protect you, Y/N, and to love your daughter as if she were my own. To be the man you deserve, the one who lifts you when the world gets heavy. I promise to build a home with you not just of bricks and mortar, but of trust, laughter, and endless patience.”

Y/N’s voice wavered as she replied, “You’ve given me hope when I thought it was lost. I vow to stand beside you, through every joy and every storm. To cherish you and our family with all my heart.”

Seungcheol slipped the ring onto her finger with reverence. “Forever starts now.”

The reception that followed was filled with laughter, music, and dancing. Minji ran around in a tiny flower girl dress, her eyes bright with happiness. Y/N watched Seungcheol dance with her daughter, his stern demeanor completely replaced by tenderness.

The night wrapped itself around the happy couple like a soft blanket, and soon, it was time to retreat to the honeymoon suite.

Wedding Night

The suite was breathtaking a spacious sanctuary decorated in creamy whites and soft golds, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city skyline. A fire flickered gently in the marble fireplace, casting a warm glow. The bed was draped with silk sheets, and rose petals were scattered like a delicate carpet.

Seungcheol closed the door behind them, turning to Y/N with a softness that took her breath away.

“Today was perfect,” he murmured, brushing a stray hair behind her ear. “But tonight… tonight is ours.”

Y/N’s pulse quickened. She stepped closer, her fingers tangling in the lapels of his tuxedo jacket.

“I’ve waited for this moment,” she whispered.

Their lips met, tentative at first, then with growing hunger. Seungcheol’s hands explored the curves of her waist, pulling her flush against him. The world outside ceased to exist. There was only the two of them the past pain, the battles fought, and the walls broken down all faded away beneath the heat of their connection.

He guided her to the bed, every movement deliberate and gentle, his eyes never leaving hers. His touch was reverent, like she was the most precious thing he’d ever held.

As he undressed her slowly, revering every inch of skin revealed, Y/N felt cherished beyond words. There was no rush, no pressure only an overwhelming tenderness that made her feel safe and adored.

Seungcheol’s kisses traced the lines of her collarbone and shoulders, his hands memorizing the softness of her skin. When he finally entered her, it was slow and deep, a perfect rhythm that spoke of intimacy and trust.

They moved together, their breaths mingling, hearts beating in sync. Every whisper, every sigh, every touch wove them closer two souls intertwining in a dance as old as time.

Seungcheol’s voice was low in her ear. “I love you, Y/N. More than anything.”

Tears of joy glistened on her cheeks. “I love you too.”

Hours passed like minutes, the night holding them in a cocoon of love and devotion.

Months after the wedding, the small bundle of joy arrived a son, perfect and whole, a living testament to their love and resilience.

Y/N held him in her arms, exhausted yet radiant. Seungcheol stood beside her, tears streaming silently down his face as he kissed her temple.

“Our family,” he breathed.

Minji peered shyly from behind the curtains, eyes wide with wonder at her new baby brother.

Seungcheol pulled Y/N close, whispering promises for their future. “We’ll protect them. We’ll build a life filled with love and laughter.”

Y/N smiled through her tears, knowing that whatever challenges came, they would face them together. For now, their hearts were full of love, hope, and the beautiful life they had created.

[araybiaaa]

❝ home. ❞  ‎ annie x smoke

ooo. 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔… domestic fluff, soft!smoke, edging, multiple orgasms, squirting, fingering, unprotected!sex, penetrative!sex, fluff, romance, handjobs, quiet sex, praising, dirty talk, brief use of the n-word. black!writer

ooo. 𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔… smoke comes home to annie after a business trip.

ooo. 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔… wrote another one because i think writing for them is my niche lol. this is set before the movie but i incorporated some of the things that were in the movie (i only watched the movie once so far so i can’t remember if they said which twin was older but in this fic i made it smoke.) i didn’t go into any of the hoodoo practice because i’m not too educated on it. but what i did include was from google 💀 again, thanks for all of the love on all of the other fics i posted! i’m always so apprehensive about my writing sometimes especially if i get writers block. but anyway thanks for the constant support guys 🥺! oh this is very much inspired by someone who made a post that said annie cleanses smoke whenever he comes home and they spend the rest of the night making passionate love. (i tried looking for the post but i couldn’t find it but if anyone finds it lmk!) and as always likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated! ◡̈

smoke’s deep suspire of impatience accompanied with him looking down at the elgin watch that’s donned around his wrist has stack rolling his eyes at his brother.

“that’s your third time lookin’ down at your watch.” he acknowledges with an impish smirk as he brings the bottle of beer up to his mouth and takes a large swig. “you must got somewhere better to be?” he questions in a tease, wincing only slight at the potent taste that burned in the back of his throat.

smoke nods cursorily, “yeah, nigga i do. it’s gettin’ late and annie’s waitin’ for me.” he accents, already picturing his wife wide awake reading in bed instead of asleep like she should be. despite wearing the mojo bag that she created for him for his added protection; she still worried about him and would always be laid awake in bed waiting for his return. her worry grew heavier whenever he was with stack because she knew that even with smoke being older by a few spare minutes — he always found himself being persuaded into his younger brother’s impulsive ideas.

like tonight, instead of going out for drinks at the juke joint like stack claimed they were going to be doing, they found themselves at a burlesque house instead. stack had found amusement in looking at the women walking around bare dressed or in skirts that stopped just at their thighs, leaving absolutely nothing left for the imagination. the room was clouded with the stench of stale cigarette smoke. it was filled to the brim with men who just like his brother were indulging and salivating at the sight of the promiscuous women as they prowled around in their garters, corsets and dresses.

but smoke seemed to be the only man here that showed no interest in the women before him. instead of attraction he felt irritation; at himself for being talked into another one of stack’s ridiculous ideas and at the fact that the room was so crowded that perspiration stuck against his skin and was now drenching through the three-piece suit that he’d just bought.

stack nudged his elbow against smoke’s, clicking his teeth in a tsk-ing reprimand. “man we’re supposed to be celebratin’!” he enthused, his smirk curling deeper as he leaned in closer to (attempt to) whisper. “all the shit we just looted from that bank? we got enough money to open our own fuckin’ whorehouse and then some!”

smoke hurriedly looked around, wary of any bypassing eavesdroppers. the pungent smell of beer is fresh of stack’s breath, his eyes are red and glossy and smoke could see his cognition slowly dissipating with each swallow of beer that he took.

today’s job had been successful. through thorough days of planning, they’d managed to raid a bank a few towns over with nothing but their revolvers and masks for their discretion. it only took about five minutes for them load the $1,000 into their bags and make a stealth exit without any hassle. still on an adrenaline high, stack suggested that they go out to commentate their win. and smoke should’ve known that it wouldn’t just be a quiet night of drinking like it was supposed to be.

“we ain’t openin’ a damn whorehouse, stack. ain’t no real money in that.” smoke rebuttals, giving him an exasperated look. “and quiet your drunk ass down some!”

stack rolls his eyes, undaunted by his brother’s forewarning as he reached over and snagged the now lukewarm bottle of beer that smoke had been babysitting all night. “you know there’s money in it. you just don’t wanna do it ‘cause you know annie will skin your black ass alive!” he teases, his eyes distractedly avert towards the short woman that was approaching them.

stack whistles coquettishly at the sight of her; taking in the sight of the short length dress that accentuated her curvaceous physique. she gives them both a beguiled smile, her eyes curiously flint between the both of them in amusement like she’s trying to decide who she wants to hither to first — but smoke’s blatant expression of disinterest deters her and has her scurrying over to stack instead, gently nudging at his shoulders to make room so that she’s able to slide herself down onto his lap.

stack barred an arm around her waist while the other loosely held onto his beer. the woman’s piqued curiosity has her pointing a finger between them and inquiring, “y’all twins?”

smoke shakes his head, resisting the urge of rolling his eyes at the thickness of her question. “naw. we cousins,” he murmurs sarcastically, taking another look at the time to see that it was rolling dangerously close towards midnight already.

“ignore him darlin’,” stack avers, kicking his foot against smoke’s beneath the table as he gave him a pointed look at his dismissive attitude. “he’s just ready to get back home to his wife.”

“oh!” the woman exclaims in surprise, lowering her eyes to his hand. “you married?” smoke’s thumb brushes over the band of his ring, an instinctual gesture that’s become a habit of his whenever he thinks of annie.

he nods, pushing his chair back as he clambered to his feet. “yeah. come on stack, it’s late and we still got an hour drive back to town.”

“you go,” stack suggested with a shrug, leaning forward to bury his face in the woman’s neck as he pressed wet kisses against her skin. “i’m good right here,” he murmurs as the woman giggles and leaned closer into stack’s touch.

“if i leave you that means i gotta drive all the way back here tomorrow to come get you.”

“don’t worry, i’ll keep him safe.” the woman coos, though smoke doesn’t heed her attempted reassurance. he cut his eyes at her in a glowered expression; one that she easily interprets because she purses her mouth close and shifts against stack.

“i’m not leavin’ you.” smoke laments, folding his arms against his chest. “now we can keep standin’ here and you can tell annie why we got back so late or you can get your ass up and follow me outside to the car,” he shrugs defiantly as he knows the inevitable outcome of the bargain.

stack lifts his head from its nestled perch and sighs deeply. he imprints a kiss against the woman’s cheek before begrudgingly telling her to get up. her lips moue but she nods and stands to her feet; shifting her eyes confusedly between the two brothers. stack snatches his beer off of the table as tips back another swig before he’s petulantly brushing past smoke towards the door.

…

“i’m just sayin’ it was a cheap shot usin’ annie to threaten me!” stack complains from his perch in the passenger’s seat. “all’s i wanted to do was have a little bit of fun to celebrate.”

“you did enough celebratin’ tonight.” smoke countered, giving his brother a wayward look. his pursed lips pucker around the cigarette that’s hanging between his mouth and he inhales softly, holding the smoke in his mouth before blowing it into the air. “besides, you think mary would appreciate you steppin’ out on her like that?” smoke wasn’t close to her, but he cherished the beliefs of being faithful in relationships no matter what the extent of it was.

stack brushes a hand dismissively at him, though the tense pull of his jaw let’s smoke know that the mention of her had affected him more than he intended for it to. “i ain’t with mary no more. i can do whatever i want with whoever i want.” he mumbles, suddenly retreating at the mention of his ex girlfriend.

smoke takes another drag of his cigarette before flicking it onto the ground. he averts his eyes between the road and the petulant like frown pulled on his brother’s face. he knows that despite his brother’s feigned insouciance that he still cared about mary, but his stubbornness had prevented him from continuing their relationship.

“what should we do then?” stack asks. his question and subvert of the topic clefts through his brief moment of silence and as smoke furrowing a confused brow at him. “with the money,” he clarifies, recalling back on their earlier conversation.

he’s deflecting to avoid talking about mary anymore. and smoke decides to concede to his brother’s unasked request. smoke considers stack’s question before responding with a gestured shrug of his shoulders. “aside from a brothel, what else could bring in a lot of money?”

“a juke joint.” stack suggests, half drunk and half in a dazed stupor as the three beers that he’d chugged down earlier were now catching up to him. his head’s craned back in an uncomfortable position and his eyes are fluttering close as he fought against his exhaustion.

smoke considers it with a nod. “we gotta have entertainment and food though. and more money to pay for all that. the money we got right now ain’t enough.”

“we can loot more banks. and i heard you can get a lot from trains with the cargo they bring in,” he doesn’t know if stack’s serious, he’s drunk and a few blinks away from being completely conked out. regardless, it was a good idea. but there was one thing that had him reluctant on any further postulation.

“annie’ll kick my ass if she finds out i’m robbin’ banks and trains.” she wasn’t too keen on their lifestyle and would usually always have to cleanse him of his debauchery every time he came back home. he can only imagine her reaction if she found out that stack was suggesting them getting further involve in such corruption.

stack chuckles, shaking his head. “you one whipped ass nigga.”

…

just as predicted, annie’s wide awake when he arrives home. smoke retracts the keys from the car’s ignition as he pulls into the grass, looking through the bedroom window where he sees annie sprawled out across the bed with a book tucked against her thighs. he reaches over and nudges stack against his knees shaking him awake. “get up. we here.”

stack grouses as he stirs awake.

smoke clambers out of the car, tucking his keys into his pockets as he makes his way towards the front door. he hears the creak of the passenger door being pulled open and the sound of stack’s shoes walking on the pebbled ground as he follows behind him.

“elijah?” annie beckons upon their entry. he barely passed over the threshold before she alerts, almost like a sixth sense of knowing his presence.

he pushes the door further open as stack groggily saunters in behind him. “yeah, baby, it’s me.” they stand by the door waiting for her approach. he hears the soft patter of footsteps in her ascending gait. annie rounds the corner moments later, dressed comfortably in her nightgown and with her hair tied around in fabric.

“what mischief y’all get into tonight?” she questions, walking over to her shelf that was full of her hoodoo concoctions; oils, candles and herbs that she kept in stock.

smoke and stack share a look at her raised brow. “nothin’ too bad.” smoke ripostes, hearing the annie’s soft chuckle of disbelief.

she grabs a small bottle of her herbal mixture of sage, cedar, rosemary, lavender, and rue; and dispenses some of it in a white sage leaf and rolls it tightly until it’s in a bundle. “i can smell the negativity brewin’ off both you,” she lights the bundle and the potent smell of the burning herbs immediately invades their sinuses. she walks over to them and waves the sage stick over their bodies, reciting a hoodoo conjuring prayer as she continues her cleansing. she looks up and meets smoke’s gaze, shaking her head though there’s a small smile tugging at her lips.

“alright.” she says after she stubs out the fire and sets the bundle and the bottle of herbs back onto their respective place on her shelf. “y’all hungry? i can warm up the leftovers.”

“naw. i’m too tired to eat.” stack declines, his gait staggers as he makes his way into the living room. he falls forward haphazardly on the couch; groaning as his face squishes against the soft cushions.

“what about you, baby?” annie walks over to where he’s standing. smoke’s hands round to her waist; digging into the soft flesh before he’s gently tugging her closer to him. the small smile returns on annie’s face as she closes the distance between them. she wounds her arms around his neck — feeling the soft wisps of his breath brushing against her cheeks as smoke leaned in for a kiss.

“naw, i’m hungry for somethin’ else,” he murmurs, brushing his mouth against hers in a feverish kiss. it’s only been two days since he’s last seen her, but smoke always felt insatiable when it came to annie.

she giggles against his mouth, pushing gently at his shoulders before chancing a cautious look over at stack. “behave yourself, elijah. we got a guest.” she reprimands, but her words fall absentminded to his ears because the sight of her biting her lip distracts him completely.

she presses one last kiss against his mouth — teasing as she nips and sucks on his bottom until it swells. smoke groans softly, lowering his hands to her ass as he gives it a hard squeeze. he pulls her body closer to his; chafing his dick that was already swelling in his growing arousal against her thigh. he grinds against her torturously slow, allowing her to feel the outline of him as he prodded her thickly through his pants. she whimpers breathily at the friction, hurriedly releasing his swollen lip with a pop before looking over at stack’s sleeping figure again.

“come on to bed,” she murmurs, reaching for his hand before she’s turning around and retreating down the hallway to their bedroom.

he closes the door with his foot while his hands were preoccupied touching every inch of her body. they breathe softly; swallowing each other’s moan as they maneuvered through the room towards the bed. “missed you so fuckin’ much,” he murmurs, his greedy hands are groping her through her nightgown; he glides his fingers up the meat of her thighs and buried them between her molten crux — feeling the moistened stickiness of her arousal through the flimsy fabric.

he slides his thumb against her and circled at her clothed clit; rubbing deftly and with the right amount of friction to have her moaning loudly in response.

smoke slides his mouth over hers and silences her with a feverish kiss. “gotta be quiet, baby.” he says, though he feels himself slipping through his own resolve.

he slides through and against her slit; feeling the moisture thicken messily against his finger. annie makes a small noise of indignation, her chest heaves as she murmurs an pointed, “elijah!” that conveys her impatience at his continued edging.

he removes his finger from between her thighs and instead grabs the edges of her waistband and tugs them over her hips. the ruined underwear fall to the ground with a soft thud; pooling around her ankles. she absentmindedly kicked them aside then with hurried fingers, began to tug at his clothing.

they work in a frantic tandem; their mouths still heavy and slick against each other’s as they kissed — only momentarily breaking apart to shrug his shirt off of his body and remove his gun and its holster from around his waist. he shivers and groans when annie’s fingers slide down the chisel of muscles on his abs — stopping just before she reaches the waistband of his pants. she bites her lip at the sight of him and gives him this seductive look that has smoke’s dick twitching.

“fuck, i can’t wait to be inside of you.”

she smirks again. the expression’s caught between sexy and mischievous, because she knows the affect she has on him — how weak willed and submissive his body is when it comes to her. she shoves at his pants until they’re over his hips and in the same forgotten pile as his other articles of clothing and her underwear. he’s standing naked in front of her; his dick’s curled and painfully erect — throbbing and leaking rivulets of precum from the tip. he pulls her in for another kiss that’s filthier than the last — all teeth and their tongues sliding wetly in each other’s mouths.

annie reaches down and grabs ahold of his dick. her nimble fingers wrap around him and firms a gentle grip; the feeling of her fingers alone already had him swelling against her hand. she revels at the feeling of him — at the grunts and expletives that falls off of his lips as she pressed her finger against the engorged tip of his dick and squeezed softly until more milky spurts of precum spilled out of him, at the reflexive twitches she feels brushing against her palm when she oscillates her hand from base-to-tip, in one torturously slow drag. “fuck, annie.” he drawls out another stifled moan.

he bites on his lip, feeling his head loll back in pleasure as she continued to jerk him off. his brows furrow deeper, breathing hitches and dick lurches in her hand in forewarning. annie slides her hand against him; lubricating him with him precum and hastened the movements of her hands. his expression shifts as his jaw slacks and teeth dig deeper into his lip. he feels the thickness of his orgasm spill out of him like a tidal wave — the buildup of pressure releases from him all at once and skeets messily on annie’s hand.

his dick twitches again as her fingers brushed against his balls, holding him through his release. he shudders, looking down at her through the haziness of his vision. “i’m gonna fuck you until you can’t walk tomorrow. gonna make you feel every inch of it.” he whispers filthily, barely fully recovered from his first orgasm but his dick was already swelling in anticipation at the thought of being inside her.

“take this off.” his hands tug at her nightgown as she raises her arms in the air and allowed him to remove the last barrier of clothing until she’s completely nude. “i wanna see every inch of you.” his eyes wandered appreciatively over her body — at the thickness of her, at the swelled cupping of her breast and the coiled bush of hair on her pussy, the stretch marks drawn across her hips and the cellulite on her ass and thighs — every inch of her was sculpted to perfection and he couldn’t wait to ravish her.

“so fuckin’ pretty and perfect.” he praises, his hands find her hips again as he draws her in for a slow kiss. their lips brush softly, teasing and nipping, relishing in the salty taste of each other. then it’s a slip of tongue — gliding over the cupping over her lower lip, begging for further entry. smoke continues to maneuver them backwards until the back of annie’s leg hits the bed. he holds a hand around her back, steadying her in his grip before gently easing her onto the mattress.

smoke follows her in the maneuver, his body hovers over hers as their mouths continued their ravenous feat. annie whimpers at the slightest tease of his dick brushing against her slit. “‘lijah,” she murmurs, breath caught in a hitch as she lifted her hips and chased after the friction.

“i got you, baby.” smoke avows, nudging her legs apart with his knees as he seats himself between her. he teases his forefinger against her cunt again, feeling the slickness gathered along her slippery folds. “this all for me?” he murmurs, breath brushing against her lips as he looked down at her awed at her dazed expression.

his scissors his fingers and uses her slick to fondle her clit. he quietly shushes her when she inadvertently yelps and squeezes around his fingers at the contact. “quiet, baby.” he reminds her and she purses her lips and twists her fingers so tightly around the sheets that it burns. he drags his finger from her vulva to her opening, marveling in the raunchy sounds of her slick dragging against her walls.

annie’s breathing quickens, the skin between her brows crease and her face furrows in pleasure. tension tugs in her belly, warmth spreads from her ears to her toes and she can feel her pussy gaping so tight around his fingers that it hurts. “s-smoke!” she whimpers shakily, tittering so close to the point of delirium.

“i feel it. let it go, annie. c’mon.” he coos, lowering his eyes to the slick that’s covering his hands from his fingers to knuckles.

it’s a beautiful mess between her thighs and he spreads her legs further to watch as he curls his fingers deeper, sliding and stretching until he’s knuckles deep into her g-spot. “elijah!” any restraint she attempted to maintain suddenly falls short; because she feels her orgasm pulling out of her almost immediately.

she spasms and writhes beneath him, tears fall wetly against her cheeks as she she clenches around the thickness of his fingers. “that’s it. fuck you look so pretty like this,” he slips his fingers out and used his thumb to lift her clitoris lip and teased the padding of his fingers against her sensitive nub. she whimpers again as she arched her hips and dragged her clit against his wet fingers. it’s a bit slippery and messy through his movements, but he still manages to implement enough friction to where she’s already feeling her second orgasm pulling through her body again.

“f-ffuck elijah.” her words are shaky and a few octaves shy of a whisper. she squeezes her eyes shut as she continued to thrust against his fingers. her chest constricts, pussy throbs achingly at his unrelenting onslaught. she cums again and this one it feels bigger than the first with watery liquid spilling out of her. she flutters her eyes open, blinking through the wetness that clung to her lashes and the bleariness that hindered her vision.

“you okay?” he questions, attentive in his aftercare as he gauged a look down at her.

she nods numbly, still dazed from the pleasure. smoke leans down and kisses her, allowing the taste of her arousal that he licked clean off of his fingers, to pass between their tongues. annie moans at the taste; feeling herself become wet at the filthiness of their intimacy.

smoke reached between his thighs and grabbed ahold of his dick; giving himself a few limp strokes until he’s fully rigid. he aligns himself at her entrance but instead of slipping inside of her, he teases himself against her — grinding his dick against her slicked folds.

he moans at the feeling of her cunt lapping repeatedly over his dick and how she leaves a sticky trail of residue of her arousal in her wake. “elijahhh!” she breathes ruggedly through a high whine, her eyes fluttering shut and her back bows at the delicious skin-to-skin contact. he rubbed the head of his dick against her swollen clitoris, dragging himself through her labia and against her entrance.

“i know.” he grunts in agreement. “just gettin’ you ready for me, baby.” smoke swipes his cockhead between her wet pussy lips and spams, choking on a guttural groan.

“yeah?” he asks as he rolled his hips against hers and nudged his dick against her clit again. her pussy throbs achingly, desperate to feel him inside of her. she nods vigorously, feeling tears prickle in her eyes again.

“yes.” she avers, hurried. desperate.

smoke nods at her plea and adjusts himself so that he’s angled at her entrance. he levels his pelvis and shifts his perched position between her thighs before slowly rolling his hips forward. annie’s eyes roll to the back of her head, her mouth slacks agape as she flutters tightly around his dick; still sensitive and swollen from her previous two orgasms.

smoke lowered his eyes and bit his lip as he watched his slow penetration — he’s mesmerized by the visual of how she stretches around the shape of him. she’s so wet that he slides in without any resistance. he rolls his hips against hers and slides through her slick — stuffing her full of his dick inch by inch. she trembles though her body easily adjusts to his intrusion. the pain is sharp but immediately dulls into unreciprocated pleasure that has her gripping at the sheets for support again.

smoke slides his hand over her pelvic bone and presses firmly against to hold her in place. then, in an agonizingly slow pace he’s thrusting himself inside of her again — choking on another groan as her pussy nearly suctions him in. he marvels at the sight of how she takes all eight inches of him without hesitation, at how full he feels being inside of her. he slides his hand over her stomach again; feeling the swell of his dick as it sits there buried deeply past her cervix. “you feel that?” he murmurs, pushing deeper until he’s buried so deeply that he’s pressed flush up against her thighs. “you take me so good, baby.” he praises, narrowing his eyes where he sees the bulge of his dick curved inside of her.

his dick twitches at the sight.

it always felt like annie’s body was made for his with how easily she accommodates to the stretch of him. she takes him without hesitation, filling herself full of his dick until she’s biting back another whimper. smoke holds himself there, pressing his hand deeper as he begins to slowly withdraw. “nnnggh,” she makes an incoherent noise in response, feeling the torturous drag of him sliding against her walls. “smoke!” he brushes another kiss against her lips, shaking through his own reprieve.

“shhh. it’s okay, i got you. fuck annie. so fuckin’ tight around my dick.” he mewls through clenched teeth, feeling the flutter of her chasing after his dick through his retraction. he pulls out halfway before he’s hurriedly brimming her to the hilt again and pressing down on her stomach. it’s such a lewd but pretty sight; his dick slipping out and reclaiming her in and out, in and out with the juices of her arousal drenching him every time he withdraws from the tightness of her swollen pussy. “been thinkin’ about this pussy for days. missed bein’ inside you. fuck, baby.”

she grinds into him meeting him thrust-for-thrusts, arching her hips off of the mattress as much as she could beneath smoke’s firm grip on her. it’s overwhelming — the feeling of him like this; in her belly, curved and brushing against her so perfectly that it has her eyes lining with tears again. he alters his pacing, now fucking himself into her with a hastened vigor.

“you take this dick like you made for it.” he says, rolling his hips against hers. their slick skin ricochets with every upthrust of his hips that meets hers, it’s suave and precise enough so that he’s perfectly hitting her hilt with every stroke. annie drew in a quick breath, her throat grows heavy, her teeth are gnawing at the plush skin on her bottom lip again. she could feel the ridges of his dick chafing against her cunt while he pressed heavily inside of her; he goes slower and drawls deeper, much to her delight, emphasizing his emotions with every downward circulation of his hips.

he reluctantly removes his hand from her stomach, in favor of reaching down to slide it beneath her calf. he hefts her right leg over his shoulder and leans forward a bit so the angle’s shifted. “you—f-feel so good!” he’s deeper than before and it’s almost primal at how he wants to feel her come undone for him. the sweat that’s gathered on his forehead is slick against her skin as he lowers his head and tucks his face in her neck. smoke rolls his hips and fucks into her with abandon, brushing his pelvis against hers until he’s seated inside of her again.

“right there!” annie cries in pleasure when he thrusts into her swiftly and lingered there for a bit. he felt her clench tightly around his dick at the movement.

“yeah, like that?”

“a-again!” she encourages, tossing her head back when he mimicked the move again, this time increasing the pleasure by pressing his thumb against her engorged clit. he’s nearly sprawled out across of her, hunched over in his position. his breathing is heavy and hot in her ear, his body’s shaking and burning against her.

“tell me this pussy is mine.” he rasps shakily, feeling every squeeze and tug that she warps around him. his muscles burn and ache from the exertion but his only focus is on making her cum.

“it’s yours, baby. only yours!” and annie swears she feels him get bigger at her praise; his dick twitches and swells in its girth and smoke curses filthily under his breath. he fucks her deeply into the mattress, the grip he’s got on her leg tightens as he rolls and thrusts his hips — fucking her deep and fast. “you’re the only one that makes me f-feel this good.”

she feels so damn good around him as she opens her body onto him. his jaw is slacked, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he watched himself prod deeper inside of her, penetrating her and filling her up to the brim.

then, she feels her breath catching and body seizing as she cums. the pressure erupts from her; fast and hard and she’s still throbbing through it as smoke’s dick continues its languid thrusts. he curses again, hand slips between her moist thighs finding her clit. he rubs attentively at the swollen nub and drags his hips against hers until he feels his orgasm following quickly behind hers. the pressure builds directly into his tip and he gives one last lazy thrust before he’s shuddering through his release.

he cums inside of her, thick and warm, still undulating his hips as he sees the fluid nearly spill out of her. smoke grunts as he fucks his cum back into her, watches it stretch and become almost frothy. his hips jerk again then he stills as his body nearly paralyzes from the overwhelming pleasure.

he breathes ruggedly as he pressed soft kisses against her sweaty skin. “i swear you gon’ be the death of me one day,” he says, rolling his hips lazily against her as the remnants of his orgasm milks out of him.

annie rolls her eyes fondly at him as she shakes her head. smoke kisses her thigh before reluctantly loosening his grip and lowering her leg back onto the bed. when his dick flaccids, he pulls out of her and falls beside her with a tired yawn. “i tire you out?” annie teases, shifting on the mattress so that she’s turned in his direction. he’s laid with his eyes closed and a lazy smirk curled on his lips.

he nods, “you always do.”

she smiles before shifting closer so that her head’s tucked on his shoulder. smoke maneuvers around so that he’s able to wrap his arm around her, pulling her closer into his embrace. “i missed you.”

smoke flutters his eyes open and looks down at her with a soft expression. “i missed you too, baby.” he murmurs, brushing his thumb over her cheek. he leans forward and kisses her, gently nudging his nose against hers.

“when you leavin’ again?” the question’s a soft whisper shared between them. her finger trails along his chest at the skin and muscle that’s there.

he shakes his head, sighing in a soft frustration. “i don’t know. we might have to go back up north to handle some left over business.” ever since him and stack had started running their schemes, they often split their time between here and up north as they acquired more business opportunities. sometimes the stretch of their journey took days, other times weeks and on occasions months. this last excursion was thankfully only a few days, but both of them had felt the longing of each other’s presence while smoke was gone.

“just make sure you’re safe and keep that mojo bag around your neck!”

he smiles as he nods his head. “yes ma’am.”

“i’m serious, elijah.” she remarks pointedly, though not moving away when he begins to kiss softly at her neck. “the shit you and stack been gettin’ into recently…it’s dangerous!”

“mhm…” he murmurs, now sucking at the spot of skin behind her ear as he brushes his thumb over her peaked nipple. he rolls his hips against hers, allowing her to feel the tautness of his dick that had seemingly erected again. “you feel what you do to me? just the thought of bein’ inside you again gets me fuckin’ hard.”

“you ain’t listenin’ to me.”

“i’m listenin’ baby, i promise.” he slides his mouth over hers in a deep kiss before he’s rolling onto his back. he bites his lip as he looked at her debauched appearance. she looked like she got fucked and smoke was getting more hard as he stared at creamy fluid of his cum slipping between her thighs and folds. he gestures a hand towards her. “c’mere.”

“elijah…”

“you ride and i’ll listen.”

she wants to scold him for not taking her warnings seriously, but he’s giving her that signature boyish smile of his and it has her shaking her head and rolling her eyes fondly as she sits upright and crawls over to him. she straddles his waist, bracketing her legs on the sides of him. her wetness drags up smoke’s thighs as she adjusts her perch.

annie arches her hips and back as she rolls her hips forward, catching smoke’s tip at her entrance. she’s then reaching in between their bodies and levitating herself off of his lap just enough so that she’s grabbing ahold of him. both of their eyes lower, watching in heed as she lined him at her entrance. she arches her hips again before lowering herself down onto him — refilling herself of his dick.

“oh, fuck!” smoke groaned, his hands steadying their grip on her waist. he’s buried in the heat of her again, trapped in that familiar warmth and tightness that already has him half dazed.

[planetherk]

ENDLESS

two is always better than one, right?

jeong yunho x reader x song mingi

tw: poly relationship, smut, implied age gap between reader and the boys, unprotected sex (please be careful!!), this is written in third person, non idol au

wc: 3k

There’s something oddly domestic about the way she wakes up most mornings now—wrapped between two warm bodies, her cheek pressed to one bare chest while someone else’s hand is tangled in her hair.

Mingi’s deep voice is the first thing she hears, groggy and low. “You’re squishing her again, Yuyu.”

“I am not,” Yunho mumbles, his arm tightening instinctively around her waist.

She doesn’t open her eyes yet, just lets herself smile, because this is the way it always is. Her being the smallest, the youngest, somehow makes her the natural center of gravity in their trio—both literally and emotionally.

It started off simple. They were best friends. Friends who met in their early twenties through a mutual roommate situation that turned into a ride-or-die friendship. Movie nights turned into sleepovers. Sleepovers turned into her falling asleep on Mingi’s lap while Yunho played with her hair. Somewhere in between all the half-laughed jokes about being a “throuple,” things got blurry.

Because now, Yunho calls her “baby” in front of strangers without thinking twice. Mingi pulls her into his lap whenever she’s tired, and presses lazy kisses to her shoulder if she’s wearing an oversized tank top. They both call her "princess" and "sweetheart" and once, when she had a bad day, Mingi muttered a quiet “mine” while spooning her that left her too stunned to breathe for a full minute.

But nobody talks about it. Not really.

They flirt, they touch, they share everything from hot ramen to bedsheets—and yet there’s never been a conversation. Not one. And maybe that’s why she stays quiet, too. Because what if it breaks the magic?

She finally opens her eyes, blinking up into the golden light filtering through the apartment blinds. Yunho is lying on his side, facing her, still half-asleep but already watching her. Mingi’s on her other side, shirtless, sprawled like he owns the entire bed. One of his legs is tangled with hers under the blanket, his hand draped over her thigh.

“Morning, angel,” Yunho says softly, brushing hair off her face.

She hums. “Morning.”

“You hungry?” Mingi mutters, voice raspy from sleep, and leans forward to press a kiss to her temple. “We could order that dumb pancake stack you like.”

She smiles into the crook of Yunho’s arm. “The one with the strawberries?”

“Duh,” Mingi grins, finally cracking an eye open. “You’re our spoiled girl, remember?”

Yunho nods, nuzzling into her shoulder. “She gets whatever she wants.”

And just like that, the ache in her chest blooms again. That aching, aching question: What are we?

But she doesn’t ask. Not today.

Instead, she lets herself melt into their touch. Mingi starts scrolling through food delivery apps, lazily resting his hand on her bare knee like it's second nature. Yunho rubs soft circles into her back, humming some tune she doesn't recognize. The bed smells like their shared shampoo, warm skin, and something she can’t name.

It’s not quite a relationship. But it’s not just friendship either.

The pancakes arrived almost an hour later, lukewarm and dripping in chocolate. But none of them really cared. They were still in bed—barely clothed, limbs overlapping in that easy way they always seemed to find themselves in. She sat cross-legged in the middle of the bed, wearing nothing but one of Yunho’s oversized black t-shirts and a pair of Mingi’s boxers she’d stolen from the laundry pile. Her hair was a mess of waves and sleep, cheeks still pink from all the cuddling and lazy touches.

Yunho sat behind her, his knees bracketing her hips, arms wrapped around her waist as he fed her bites with a fork. “Open,” he said softly, voice teasing against the shell of her ear.

She laughed, turning her face slightly toward him. “I have hands, you know.”

“I like feeding you,” he murmured, fingers brushing her bottom lip a little too slow, too soft, like he was testing her reaction.

Mingi, sitting in front of her with the takeout box in his lap, smirked. “It’s true. He’s obsessed. Probably dreams about it.”

Yunho grinned against her hair. “Only when she makes that little sound after the strawberries.”

She went still for a second, eyes flicking between the two of them. Then she rolled her eyes, cheeks burning. “You two are impossible.”

“You love it,” Mingi said, reaching forward to tuck her hair behind her ear. His knuckles grazed her jaw in the process. “You looove when we spoil you, pretty girl.”

That nickname hit low in her stomach. She didn’t respond—just looked down at the sticky takeout box, pretending she didn’t feel the slow, smoldering heat creeping beneath her skin.

The room was quiet for a moment too long.

Yunho’s fingers were now tracing lazy circles on her thighs, slipping lower each time the loop completed. Mingi watched her like he was reading her—eyes sharp, knowing, like he could see all the questions she never asked.

“You’re quiet,” Yunho murmured near her neck, lips barely brushing her skin.

“I’m just…” she swallowed, shifting slightly in his lap. “Thinking.”

“What about?” Mingi tilted his head, gaze flickering down to her lips before settling back on her eyes.

“I dunno. Us.”

Another pause. This one felt heavier.

Yunho’s hand stilled. Mingi’s smile faltered, just for a second.

But then Yunho kissed the spot just behind her ear, slow and warm, and said, “We don’t need a label to keep doing this, angel.”

“Unless you want one,” Mingi added, voice dropping half an octave. “Because we’d give it to you. You know that, right?”

Her breath hitched. “I—no, I mean… I like this. I just don’t always know what this is.”

“Us taking care of you,” Yunho said simply.

“You being ours,” Mingi added, licking a bit of chocolate off his thumb, eyes locked on her.

The way he said ours made her thighs squeeze together instinctively. And Yunho noticed. Of course he did.

His voice was practically a purr now, right by her ear. “Do you like when we call you that?”

She turned, only enough to glance at him over her shoulder. “Call me what?”

“Ours,” Mingi said again, voice like honey and heat.

The silence stretched again—tension thick and humming in the small room.

She swallowed hard. “Yeah… I like it.”

Yunho’s arms tightened around her. Mingi’s eyes darkened, just a little.

“Good,” Yunho murmured. “Because you are.”

ღ⋆ღ⋆ღ⋆ღ⋆ღ

That night, it happened again. They were watching a movie—something dumb and loud—and she was sandwiched between them on the couch, like always. Her legs were draped over Mingi’s lap, Yunho’s arm thrown casually over her shoulders, hand resting dangerously close to her chest. It wasn’t weird. This was normal. But tonight, something was… different.

Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was the way Mingi’s hand had been slowly running up and down her calf for the past half hour. Maybe it was the way Yunho’s fingers had started playing with the hem of her shirt, brushing the soft skin of her waist in lazy, absent-minded strokes. Whatever it was, she was buzzing.

She shifted slightly, trying to get comfortable—but Yunho’s hand slid a little lower, settling warm and firm against her ribs. Mingi's fingers curled around her ankle, then higher, grazing her knee. No one said a word.

Her breath caught in her throat when Yunho leaned down and murmured, “You’re tense, baby. You okay?”

His voice was all silk and sleep and care—but the way he said baby made her squirm.

Mingi noticed. She knew because his hand moved higher.

He chuckled, low. “She likes when we talk to her like that.”

“I know,” Yunho whispered back, brushing a strand of hair from her neck and pressing a kiss there. “She gets so quiet when she does.”

“Am I not allowed to be quiet?” she asked, voice shaky.

“No,” Mingi said, eyes burning into hers. “Not when you’re thinking things and not telling us.”

She blinked, lips parting. “Like what?”

“Like how badly you want us to touch you right now.”

Silence.

Then Yunho’s lips grazed her ear. “Are we wrong?”

She couldn’t speak. She didn’t need to.

Mingi leaned forward, cupping her cheek gently. “We can stop anytime, baby. Just say the word.”

But she didn’t. Her breath came shallow, her body tense but humming, curled between them like something sacred.

Mingi was still holding her ankle, fingers slowly sliding up to her thigh—his touch featherlight but certain, like he was memorizing her. Yunho’s lips hadn’t left her neck, each kiss growing slower, deeper, warmer. He nuzzled just behind her ear and whispered, “Still okay?”

She nodded, voice lost to the heat blooming low in her belly. But Yunho pulled back slightly, one hand coming up to cradle her jaw. “We need to hear you say it, angel.”

Her lips parted. “I’m okay. I… I want this.”

Mingi leaned in then, mouth brushing her knee as he looked up at her, eyes dark and hungry but still soft. “You sure, pretty girl?”

She met his gaze, something sparking behind her lashes. “I want you. Both of you.”

That was all it took.

Yunho leaned forward, kissing her full on the mouth—slow, firm, no hesitation. His lips were soft but demanding, tilting her head gently with his hand. She moaned into it, and he swallowed the sound like it belonged to him. Mingi shifted closer, running his hand up her other thigh now, kneading gently. His lips found the space under her jaw as Yunho kissed her, and the sensation made her whole body tremble. They were touching her like she was something they’d waited for. Something they weren’t going to rush. Something they deserved to take their time with.

“Let us take care of you,” Yunho murmured against her lips.

Mingi’s hand dipped under the waistband of his own boxers she was wearing—his fingers brushing her pussy, slow and deliberate. Her back arched instinctively, a gasp escaping her lips.

“Oh,” she breathed.

Yunho smiled, pulling back just enough to press kisses along her cheek, her jaw, down her throat. “You’re already so wet, baby.”

Mingi slipped two fingers along her folds, barely dipping in, just teasing. “Fucking soaked.”

Her face flushed crimson, but she couldn’t bring herself to feel shy. Not with the way they were looking at her. Like she was the sun they revolved around. Yunho slipped a hand under her shirt, palming her breast through the thin fabric of her lacy bra. “Can I take this off?”

She nodded breathlessly, and he tugged the shirt over her head, slow and reverent. Her hair tumbled down around her shoulders, and she flushed under their gaze.

“God,” Mingi muttered, eyes roaming over her like he was starved. “You’re so beautiful.”

Yunho unclasped her bra, letting it fall from her shoulders, her nipples hardening from the cold air and then his kisses were everywhere, her collarbone, her chest, her stomach. Mingi moved to her side, brushing her hair from her face before tilting her chin up to kiss her too. It was overwhelming. Perfect. Their mouths and hands exploring her like worship. Mingi’s fingers finally slid inside her, slow but deep, while Yunho sucked gently at one of her nipples, tongue flicking just right.

Her breath hitched, body arching between them.

“You’re doing so well, angel,” Yunho whispered, eyes locked on hers. “So perfect for us.”

Mingi curled his fingers inside her, and she let out a soft moan, grabbing at his wrist. “More, please…”

“Oh, we’ll give you more,” Mingi promised, voice thick and low. “We’re just getting started baby.”

They took turns touching her, teasing her, their mouths moving down her body in tandem—Yunho kissing her neck, leaving marks she would have to cover later, Mingi licking slow stripes along her inner thighs, their touches never overlapping but always in sync.

It felt like a dream. It felt like everything.

When Mingi finally replaced his fingers with his mouth, she cried out softly, one hand in his hair, the other gripping Yunho’s arm. Yunho held her close, kissing her temple, murmuring sweet praises while Mingi worked his tongue slow and deep over her sweet pussy, like he had nowhere else to be. “You taste so sweet baby. So sweet. ”

She came undone like that—shuddering between them, clinging, gasping and moaning their names like prayer.

But they didn’t stop there.

Yunho stood, pulling his shirt off slowly, eyes locked on hers the entire time. His chest was broad, golden in the dim light, muscles taut with restraint. “You want more, baby?” she nodded, eyes wide, dazed with pleasure. “Please…”

They lifted her gently—Yunho scooping her up bridal-style, both of them kissing her softly as they carried her to the bedroom.

Yunho laid her gently on the cool sheets like she was something precious—his hands never leaving her skin. He kissed her again, softer this time, slower, while Mingi knelt beside her on the bed and ran his palm along her stomach, up to cup her breast.

“Still with us, angel?” Yunho murmured against her lips.

She nodded, voice a breathy whisper. “Yeah… please don’t stop.”

Yunho leaned back to take in the sight of her—lips swollen, skin flushed, eyes half-lidded and trusting. His gaze darkened as he tugged off the rest of his clothes, revealing his toned, golden body in full. Her breath caught at the sight of him. Mingi was behind her again, one arm curled under her shoulders as he pressed hot kisses along her neck, dragging his tongue lightly across her pulse point. She whimpered softly, her body instinctively pressing back into him.

“Want you both,” she murmured, “please—”

Yunho knelt between her legs and kissed slowly up the inside of her thigh, his fingers teasing along the sensitive skin where Mingi’s mouth had just been. “We’re right here, baby. Gonna make you feel so good.”

He lined himself up with her slowly, watching her eyes, waiting for the smallest hesitation. But she opened for him like a flower, hand reaching for his wrist to tug him closer. Mingi whispered something into her neck—words like “beautiful,” and “you’re doing so well for us”—and Yunho pressed forward, sliding into her in one long, slow motion.

The moan that escaped her was sinful.

He moved slow at first, drawing out every inch, every gasp. Her hands clutched at his back, her legs wrapped around his waist. Yunho kissed her like he couldn't get enough of the taste of her moans. His rhythm built gradually, patient but deep—rolling his hips just right, pounding in her with a toe-curling force, filling her completely.

Mingi watched, eyes dark and heavy-lidded, his hand brushing her hair from her sweaty forehead. Then he kissed her—soft but filthy, tongue slipping into her mouth like he already knew the rhythm of her breath. His hands traveled down to his painfully hard cock, the sight of his best friend fucking the girl he had the biggest crush on was the biggest turn on. She was theirs, and only theirs. And now they were proving it.

“I love watching you like this,” he whispered, lips brushing hers. “So fucking pretty.”

“More,” she gasped, arching her back between them. “I want—”

Yunho slowed down and looked at Mingi. No words passed, but something shifted—an understanding, a shared current between them.

Mingi leaned in, biting her ear gently. “You want both of us, princess?” His voice was thick with need. “Think you can take it?”

Her pussy clenched around Yunho’s cock at the thought, breath quickening.

Yunho stilled inside her, lowering his mouth to her ear. “We’ll be gentle. You trust us?”

She nodded without hesitation. “I trust you. I want it.”

They took their time preparing her, every touch laced with care. Mingi kissed down her spine while Yunho held her close, whispering reassurances as they coaxed her body open. By the time Mingi pressed against her, his fingers gripping her hips while Yunho kissed her breathless, she was already trembling. The stretch was intense—overwhelming—but she melted into it, gasping as Mingi slid in slowly behind her, his chest pressed to her back.

“Good girl,” Yunho whispered, stroking her hair, hips rocking into her in tandem. “You’re taking us so well.” Mingi’s breath was hot against her shoulder. “You feel like heaven.”

They moved slowly, in sync—deep, filling thrusts that made her toes curl and her head fall back onto Mingi’s shoulder. She was completely surrounded, completely theirs. Their hands were everywhere—trailing down her body, gripping her thighs, holding her steady. She felt full, both of her holes welcoming the boys. Her boys.

Yunho kissed her lips as she moaned, Mingi bit her neck and soothed it with his tongue. The sounds in the room were pure sin—skin against skin, breathy gasps, the occasional curse whispered against her cheek. And when she came again, it was like falling—her body clenching around them, the world dissolving into white-hot pleasure. She cried out their names, hips trembling, overwhelmed.

They didn’t last long after that. Yunho spilled inside her with a low groan, hips stuttering as he buried his face in her neck. Mingi followed moments later, moaning into her shoulder, arms wrapped tight around her waist as he collapsed against her back.

The three of them lay there in a tangled mess—panting, sweaty, warm. No one said anything for a long time.

Eventually, Yunho pulled her into his chest, brushing sweat-soaked hair from her face. “You okay, baby?”

She nodded sleepily, dazed and glowing. “That was… everything.”

Mingi chuckled softly, pulling the blanket over them all. “You’re everything.”

Yunho kissed her forehead, voice rough but gentle. “You’re ours.”

They would be the death of each other.

[juletheghoul]

father figure II

a/n: Y'all really pulled for Clint to win the poll, and I am nothing if not committed to giving you want you want! 💕 Thanks to @foli-vora & @just-here-for-the-moment for screaming at me about this and for letting me scream at them about it too. I know we're all pretty messed up about...well, you know, so lets focus on this hot older man being soft. xoxo

Warnings; 18+ no minors, vague but big-legal age gap, oral sex (female receiving), dirty talk, shitty dad (neglect), absent mother (abandonment issues), allusions to illegal activity, domestic violence, daddy kink, secret relationship, period piece - takes place in 1987, Clint being a big guard dog for you and others, and riding a motorcycle because of course he would, let me know if I missed any! (I haven’t seen the movie, so I went rogue in terms of where he lives, his backstory and pets)

Pairing: Clint Flood x F!Reader

Ko-fi link 🥲💕

word count: 6.2k

reblogs are appreciated

Masterlist series Masterlist

The days leading up to Thursday crawl, every minute until you see him again like a slow drip from a leaky faucet, each one indistinguishable from the last. Nothing was worse than the night before though, even with the exhaustion of a long shift, of being on your feet all day and dealing with picky customers, sulky teens and unruly children racing down the aisles, sleep was a stranger once you got into bed. The promise of seeing him, possibly going on a real date–or, whatever it was he had planned was too exciting to let you succumb to that heavy feeling in your limbs. 

The next morning found you curled up in that same position as the night before. With more energy than was necessary you were up and jumping into the shower. Your mind wandered as you scrubbed, all of the different possibilities of what he’d planned. Questions about what to wear, which shoes, would he want you to dress up? Question after question kept popping up as you rinsed and shut off the water. What would he wear? A toothpaste covered smile stares back at you at the thought of him in a suit. 

The house is empty, but that’s nothing new.

It’s peaceful without the frantic energy of your father bumbling about, the sounds of kids playing outside comes through the window, melding with the low hum of the little radio in the kitchen. You wonder idly what time he’ll come get you, hopefully not while your dad is home. 

Coffee steams as you start to worry over exactly how this’ll go down, he hadn’t exactly given you much detail, maybe he’d only said it offhand. A tiny flicker of fear burns low in your gut that you’d taken him too seriously, too literal and maybe today wasn’t a solid, definite plan. The soft knock on your kitchen door wrenches you out of the spiral. 

“Hi sweetheart.” He smiles big when the door swings open, warm brown eyes crinkling with mirth and you mirror the expression, worrying about him not keeping his word had been silly. 

“Hi.” You bite your lip, peeking around him in case your dad was around but he shakes his head no.

“He’s busy, we have time.” He steps through, and the smell of him mingles with the freshly brewed coffee. It settles somewhere in your chest, how comforting it is and when he closes the door and slips his big hand around your waist to pull you in for a toe-curling kiss, it drops into your gut like a stone. Your fingers clutch at the lapels of his jacket, your mouth curves into a smile and he hums into the kiss. 

“Hmm, you taste sweet, any coffee left for me?” His hand is so big, so warm, so firm on your lower back it forces your body into an arch against him. 

“Yes–I’m happy to see you.” Your body is so sensitive to him, every single inch attuned to the hard planes of his form. 

“I’m happy to see you too, baby.” With a few more soft, minty kisses he lets you go, winks when you sigh happily and move to pour him a cup of coffee. 

“So, what’s the plan?” You put the cup down in front of him, black and strong. He pulls you into his lap, the sharpness of him hits you again, the zipper of his jacket, the stiffness in his jeans. It only served to highlight your softness. 

“You’ll see. Go on, get ready.” His big palm lands a crack on your ass, not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to send a thrill through you. 

“Okay okay, I’m going, bossy.”

Your heart races with every step you take up towards your room. Your attention keeps creeping down the stairs to that wonderful shape of him in your kitchen, sitting with him, imagining the small smile on his lips as you rush to get dressed. 

“You look beautiful.” His eyes travel the whole of you when you finally come back down, unabashed. Your face heats, everything in you wants to hide but he pulls you forward by your wrist, presses another kiss to your mouth and leads you out without another word. 

“Oh my god–” The motorcycle in your tiny driveway is a shock, big, acid black, so obviously him.

“You’re not scared are you baby?” He walks over, helping you with the extra helmet he’d brought. You shake your head and lie, chewing on your bottom lip as he carefully buckles it tight enough that it won’t come off, gentle enough that he doesn’t pinch your chin. There’s a slight tremble in your limbs when he helps you onto the back, the rumble of it underneath you is something else, like a big jungle cat purring against your bones, only louder. 

“Ready?” He looks over his shoulder, smiling at the no doubt terrified expression on your face. You nod.

“Okay, hold onto me, nice and tight.” Your arms around his waist tighten, your thighs grip outside of his hips as he slowly backs out of your driveway. When he finally takes off down your street, you scream in delight. 

It feels like flying. 

The wind almost whips through you, tears gather in your lashes as he winds between the cars and makes his way through the city. Never has anything felt so liberating. Despite the fear, the adrenaline courses from the top of your head to the very tips of your fingers and toes. 

“You okay back there?” He yells over his shoulder, slowing down for a turn and you nod before remembering he cannot see you. 

“Yes! This is amazing!” You speak into his ear, his palm presses against yours where you hold onto him, you inch yourself closer. 

All too quickly, he’s pulling into an underground garage, and parking the bike in a numbered spot, beside the car you’ve come to recognize as his. 

“Are we at your place?” He unclips the helmet, helps you down and hangs it on the handlebar. 

“Yes.” 

He’s quiet, but smiling as he leads you towards the entrance into the apartment building. 

The lobby is nothing to write home about, exceedingly beige, run down and not exactly a place you’d want to be in after dark. Not exactly a place you’d want to be in without his reassuring shape beside you. The elevator doesn’t help. The light flickers, the doors take an age to close. It smells neglected, dusty and dry, it creaks worryingly loud as it crawls up towards the tenth floor. 

“It’s an old building, but it’s really quiet.” 

“I’m not super into elevators, they freak me out a little.” His hand rubs your shoulder and you breathe deeply until finally it dings open. 

You’re not really sure what you expected his place to look like, but it certainly isn’t what greets you when his keys turn the lock and he guides you in. A giant, fluffy cat meows angrily from just inside. The windows are massive, and light bathes everything in the apartment. His furniture isn’t new, but it’s very well taken care of. Everything is neat and tidy, and a part of you feels almost ashamed at what you thought might be waiting for you. 

Maybe it was the younger guys you’ve dated, with their laundry piled on the floor, with their dirty dishes on different surfaces throughout their places, cigarette butts and empty beer bottles. 

“Go on, make yourself at home, I have to feed Louis before he rips my throat out.” He shakes his head, rolling his eyes. He walks past you towards where the grey cat sits, tail swishing in annoyance.

“Yeah yeah, I heard you. I was only gone for a couple of hours.” The cat stalks after him, meowing almost in response, an argument in two languages and you cannot help but laugh. 

You’re staring out the big window at the city below when he comes back. His chin rests on your shoulder, his hands slide over your hips and your heart races. 

“Want a tour?” He presses kisses to the side of your neck, the short scruff tickles the sensitive skin there, and you pull away with a laugh. 

“I’d love one.”  

His bedroom is just as neat as the rest of the apartment. His bed is bigger than yours, the whole room is. A chair sits in the corner beside a small side table with a lamp, it makes you smile big to see a book resting there too. 

He says nothing as you look your fill, only stands quietly, leaning against his door frame as you look at the things lining his dresser. The half empty bottle of cologne is him, the smell of it when you bring it to your nose almost makes your mouth water. You put it back down, noting the small pile of change, a set of car keys, a stick of gum. 

“How long have you lived here?” You stack the coins in order of size. 

“About ten years.”

“So. Louis.” It’s hard to stop the grin, and he laughs low. 

“Louis.” He shakes his head, “I adopted him, maybe a year after I moved in here. He’s a grumpy old thing, mouthy too.” It’s like he’s talking about a relative. 

“I never pictured you as a cat person.” The trinkets on his counter lose their appeal the longer you stare at him. 

“Oh, I’m not sure he’s actually a cat.” His shoulders are so broad, even without the big leather jacket on. The bed frame is up against the big window, light streams in but when he sits he blocks some of it, that image of him as an eclipse hits you again, a protection against the burning sun. 

“No?” You sit next to him, your thigh pressed against his. 

“He's some old man, cursed to live as a cat and having to change his litter box is a particularly creative way to keep me humble.” A bark of laughter escapes from your mouth at the thought, and his smile widens. His hand comes up from its place on the bed, and cups your cheek. 

His mouth is on yours before you’ve stopped laughing. 

Everything falls away with his kiss, the world tilts in so many ways and then you’re on your back and he’s following. His kiss is soft, but with an edge. Your bottom lip trapped between his, soft and sensual until his teeth nip at it playfully. The skin on your belly trembles from the tickle of his fingertips slipping under your layers, just feeling the warmth before undoing the button of your jeans. His mouth moves to your neck, warm and humid up towards your ear while your eyes track the way he pulls your zipper down. 

“Been thinking about you here, imagined having you in every single way I could—“ his big palm slips under the band of your panties, cupping your cunt; you swallow thickly, both of you watching him just hold you.

“I can’t stop thinking about you, naked, wet and spread around my cock.” Deft fingers slip through your seam, dipping into the pool of arousal at the mouth of your cunt. He groans at the feel, surges to kiss you while those thick fingers drag the slick up to swirl slow, decadent circles at your clit. 

His lips brush against yours, breathing in your soft moans and low whimpers while he drives you clean into madness.

“Does that feel good, baby?” He nudges your nose with his, “Tell me. Open that pretty mouth and tell me.” He slows his movements, and it’s like you could map out his fingerprints from just how attuned your body is to the feel of it.

With another thick swallow, you nod, breathing out a whispered yes.

“What are you thinking?” His knee shifts, but you don’t feel anything but his mouth on your cheek, and his fingers between your legs. Words are hard, and they don’t come to you right away, your heart pounds in your ears, your nipples are hard as diamonds under your layers. 

“Baby, talk to me, or I stop.” It’s a threat you cannot gamble with, so you whimper, gather what little wits are leaking out around his fingers.

“I-I’m thinking, I—“ he swirls a little harder and the words fail you again.

“You’re thinking?” He bites at your chin, he’s so fucking cruel, teasing you like this and expecting what, a dissertation?

“Yeah, thinking…thinking, oh god—thinking it feels really good, thinking that I want you to keep going and make me come.” It’s with Herculean effort that you push the words out through kiss-swollen lips and he rewards you. Two thick fingers slip inside you, deep and stretching.

“That’s my girl, good job baby, you want Daddy to make you come?” Slow, rhythmic pumping of his fingers makes your brain blank, before he bites your lip again. That he likes you calling him Daddy, that he encourages it makes your blood sizzle in your veins.

“Yes Daddy, please—“ it’s so fucking close, so warm and licking up your spine. 

“Do you want to come on my fingers, or on my tongue? Want me to spread those thighs and lick this cute little clit?” He laughs at the noise you make in response, you cannot be embarrassed though, not with the image of his face between your legs.

The whine you let out at the loss of his fingers is involuntary, he shushes you softly, an interesting juxtaposition with how forcefully he rips your jeans and panties down at the same time, your slick on his fingers leaves a little trail wherever they touch your skin. The prospect of him actually going down on you kicks the adrenaline up to eleven, within seconds he has you naked from the waist down, while kneeling on the floor at the edge of the bed. 

You let out a yelp when he yanks you towards his face, a heavy bruising grip on your hips, then at the flesh of your thighs. He doesn’t say anything, only breathes deep, groans somewhere deep in his chest at just how wet you are before he opens his mouth and eats.

Other guys have done this before, a tongue on your clit isn’t something new—but it’s never been like this. The guys that were willing to before may have given you a few kitten licks before moving onto the next feeling, the next position, just a prelude to fucking. What Clint is doing is miles away from whatever those other guys had done. 

The way he eats your cunt is hedonistic, animal, desperate in a way that makes you watch in awe, a way that pulls your hand down to spread the lips of your sex wider for his mouth. His tongue glides against your clit, up and down, swirling and writing words in a language you desperately want to learn. His brow is furrowed, his nose is pressed against your mound, his lips dragging down and then back up to collect the honey that leaks out for him. 

He moans obscenely, suctions his lips around your clit and strokes with his tongue. Your stomach clenches, your heart races, pleasure licks up your spine as he pulls you apart with every firm stroke of his tongue. 

“Oh fuck—yes, just like that, oh my god…I’m gonna fucking come—“ 

His eyes find yours, and the smile is clear in them as he doubles down. The suction gets tighter, one hand snakes up under your top and pulls the cup of your bra down to pinch at your nipple. Liquid heat burns a path through your being, it radiates out through your cunt and into your soul. Your hands practically claw at him, pushing his mouth where it continues its assault on your overly sensitive clit but he holds on, slows down, turns the suction into a kiss. 

“Such a sweet—“ he speaks, peppering in flat-tongued licks that make you flinch involuntarily away from his mouth, licks that morph into a noisy kiss, “pretty,” again, “wet little pussy.” He moans into your skin, like your pleasure is also his. His tongue dips low and drinks down what he’s pulled out, before finally moving up. You can taste your orgasm in his mouth, his lips, his tongue is drenched with it. His hands stop yours before they’ve undone his jeans.

“I just wanted to make you feel good, I’m okay.” He kisses you softly, smiling at your confused frown.

“You don’t want to fuck me?” There’s a pout you can’t hold back, and he laughs, not unkindly.

“Oh I am dying to fuck you, pretty baby, but I want to get started on dinner. If I do what I want to do to you we won’t leave the bed.” You sigh, turned on all over again. “I’ll go and start, you take your time and get dressed.” With another soft kiss, he rises, and leaves you, adjusting himself on the way out.

That pleasant, post-orgasm bliss weighs heavy on your limbs, you are almost too comfortable to move. His low voice slips under the crack between the floor and the door, a low conversation with the cat you never expected him to have. It’s quiet in his room, peaceful in a way that yours has never been, in a way your life has never been. You can’t help but think of your dad, you can’t help the barrage of memories and comparisons to the life you’ve lived since your mother–whoever she’d been–left. 

Part of you is obviously grateful that your dad stuck around, but there has always been that sense that you were somehow to blame for him having to do it alone. The thoughts annoy you. The mixture of your own slick and Clint's saliva between your legs cools, as does the arousal behind your belly button. Now was not the time to focus on your mommy, or daddy issues. 

He’s whistling when you finally emerge from his bedroom, clothes back in place, his comforter smoothed out. His smile is enough to shake the ugly thoughts and memories from your head.

“What are you making?” You stand beside him at his counter, leaning close to hug his middle. His lips press a soft kiss to your forehead. His kitchen is neat, there’s a bench near the big window full of healthy, thriving plants and you’re surprised all over again.

“I’m making us some cutlets, a salad, some asparagus.” Three shallow bowls are lined up, an assembly line to dredge, and coat thin pieces of chicken in flour, beaten eggs and breadcrumbs. Another unexpected aspect of him. 

“That sounds good, can I help?” 

“You want to wash the greens for me? There’s a strainer in the sink, lettuce is in the fridge. 

You get to work, picking leaves off of the head and rinsing them in cool water. It’s quiet, calming to move through the motions while he prepares the chicken, while he fries it. His lips keep pressing to your forehead, to your temple, your neck whenever he gets close. 

“Is there a big bowl I can put these in?” With your task finished and the greens dried, you search for where to prepare the salad. 

“Here, put them in here–” You frown when he pulls tupperware out from a cupboard and hands it to you. 

“We’re not eating here, baby. We’re packing it all to go.” Your frown deepens. “Just trust me, let's rinse these as well.” He hands you a container of cherry tomatoes, and winks before continuing with his task. It all comes together surprisingly quick, a bag packed with steaming hot, crispy cutlets, a big bowl of salad, some pan-seared asparagus. His expression is the happiest you’ve seen him, moving about his small, light-filled kitchen, gathering a couple of plates and cutlery, napkins and even a folded up table cloth. 

“Okay, let’s head out.” He tries to usher you out of the kitchen but you plant your feet.

“Wait–what about the dishes? Let's do them–”

“Don’t you worry about dishes, I’ll take care of them later.” Gently, but firmly, he guides you towards the entrance. 

“Where are we even going? Can’t we stay here?” The frown doesn’t dissipate, the thought of leaving his space, the comfort of it, the peace, you pray that he isn’t taking you back home.

“Can you please just let me surprise you? I am taking you somewhere nice, trust me.” He nods at your shoes, at your jacket and with a small sigh you follow. 

“You aren’t taking me home right? Can you just tell me that?” The thought of seeing the peeling vinyl of your kitchen table, of waiting with bated breath for your dad to walk in and kill the mood makes your stomach roil. He lets out a small huff of amused laughter. 

“No sweetheart, we’re not going back to your place.” He holds the door open, “Louis, I’ll be back later, don’t you dare scratch up the sofa.” You smile at the pitiful meow that follows you out the door. 

-

His bike has a little compartment under your seat and it fits the bundle of food perfectly. Your mind drifts to it, just as he drifts through the streets, just as the wind drifts through your hair and that sense of calm hits you once more. 

You almost laugh, the neighbourhood goon, the big bad criminal makes you feel safer and more loved in the short time you’ve known him, and the even shorter time there’s been any kind of romantic interest than anyone ever has. He pulls into a small parking lot for a park you vaguely remember visiting as a child. 

“What are we doing here?” He undoes the helmet, helps you off the bike and then pulls the bundle out from under where you sat. 

“Picnic, thought you might like it here.” He grabs your hand and leads you towards the wooded area. With anyone else, this might have caused you to panic, you might have found yourself legging it out of there as fast as you could but not with him. He’s a beacon of safety, funny enough. You don’t walk too far, and within a few minutes he has the cloth laid out, the food open and the salad dressed. With a smile he gestures for you to sit. 

“This is…I don’t know what to say.” Emotion swells, feelings that don’t make sense, feelings that don’t fit inside your body ebb and flow like a tide. 

“You don’t have to say anything, eat, relax, spend some time with me.” He presses a soft kiss to your mouth, and it spills into your heart. That tide overflows with the threat of tears. You turn away and take a deep breath, he’s kind enough to avert his gaze, lets you keep your dignity. 

The food is good. Really good. You eat in a comfortable silence, shoes slipped off, taking in the beauty of the flora. 

“It’s beautiful here.” You comment between bites, staring up at the lattice of tree branches criss-crossing high above you. 

“It is.” He nods, his head tilts up as well, his neck draws your attention. “I used to come here all the time when I was a kid.” He’s somewhere else, in another time, with other people. 

“With family?” You prod gently. He nods, taking a big bite, part of you can see the calculation in that bite, an excuse to not elaborate, you let him have it. 

“I don’t know if I’ve ever been here. Maybe once when I was little?” You poke around at your plate, spearing a cherry tomato. 

“What’s your favourite place to go to?” He wipes at his mouth, he looks somehow taller, half laying half sitting up, legs stretched out. 

“Oh God, I don’t know.”

“There’s gotta be somewhere you like being–” He takes another bite, his neck distracts you once more. 

“Well, I’ve always liked the outdoors, stargazing and all that. Actually a couple of years ago, my friend's mom drove us to that big planetarium to see Halley’s Comet.” 

“How was it?”

“Shit actually,”  you laugh at the memory, “We got there too late, but it was nice to be there anyway. The view was really pretty.” He laughs along with you. 

“That’s a long drive to miss the whole thing.” He puts his empty plate back in the bag. 

“I enjoyed the drive, my friend’s mom is really sweet, almost felt like I was part of the family.” Your empty plate joins his, back in the bag. 

“Can I ask what happened to your mom?” He replaces the lids on the food and you help. 

“Beats me. She left before my third birthday.” He frowns, but you shrug. “I don’t remember her, and my dad got rid of all her pictures so I have no clue what she looks like. I don’t even remember her voice.” You huff out a self-deprecating laugh, but he doesn’t join. 

“It’s whatever. Better that she left, she obviously didn’t want to be a mom so who knows how she might have treated me if she’d stayed.” You shrug again, he stays quiet. 

“That’s depressing though, let's talk about something else.” You smile to show him that it doesn’t matter, you’re definitely over the abandonment–at least, you tell yourself you are.

“What about you? What are your parents like?” 

“Well, my parents died a long time ago.” 

“Oh God, I’m sorry–” You kick yourself mentally, here you are on this nice picnic and the topic of conversation has changed from a shitty mom to dead parents.

“No, it’s okay really, happened a long time ago. My dad went first, he had issues with alcohol and he drank himself to death. My mom died a few years later, cancer. I didn’t have a good relationship with my father so to be brutally honest, it was a relief. My mom though, I was really close to her.” He frowns at the memory, you take his hand and squeeze. 

“I’m sorry.” It’s all you can offer.

“Thank you, she used to bring me here, no money but she’d pack up whatever we had and spend the day.” Your heart swells, cracks in two and he worms his way in, deeper than anyone or anything before him.

“Sweet of you to bring me here.” You press a kiss to his mouth, once, twice, and then a third time.

“I can be a pretty sweet guy.” He smiles, and while it’s obvious he’s happy to be here, there’s a flicker of something in his grin, the curve of it not quite reaching his eyes. 

“Do you want to talk about it–” He shakes his head no, and your words die in your throat, maybe you’ve pushed it a bit.

“No, it’s okay.” He presses another kiss to your lips, a silent, but effective distraction. A wordless truce, a peace treaty to not discuss those deep-seeded scars you both carry. You clutch at it, and enjoy just being with him. 

-

Seconds slip by, and every single one feels like an eternity. 

“Will that be all?” Your mouth does its best impression of a friendly smile, you’re grateful it’s enough. The bone-tired mother of three nods, attention split in quarters between her children and you. 

“Yes–hey, drop it.” One of her kids, a toothy little boy drops the tape and returns to her side while she pays for her rentals. 

“Please be sure to rewind your tapes before returning, if they’re not returned within two days, then late fees will apply for every extra day they’re late.” You hand the small stack of tapes to her and she nods, one eye on her kids. 

“Have a great day.” You speak to the back of her head, sighing loudly to no one in particular. 

It’s been a week since the date with Clint; it feels more like a month. Your dad still has his meetings, and by his uncharacteristically good mood in the last few days, something has gone well. You can’t say you’re entirely happy about the big wad of cash you spotted on his dresser this morning, but if it keeps your bills paid and the lights on, it’s none of your business. The realization, the decision–to ignore the implications doesn’t silence the doubts, it doesn’t alleviate the worry. They only swirl faster, amplify and haunt you throughout your shift, bounce along with you with every step you take home. 

Clint is at your house when you walk in, leaning against your kitchen counter engrossed in a conversation that doesn’t seem to be going well. His brow is furrowed, his voice is raised–until he meets your eye. His expression, his obvious bad mood doesn’t dissipate. Your father doesn’t acknowledge you, his attention is wrapped up in whatever issue they have between them. 

“I’m just going to grab a drink and I’ll head up.” You speak to both of them, your dad only tries to look around you when you cross his field of vision. 

“Don’t bother sweetheart, I’m leaving.” His voice is so neutral, so different to how it’s been when you’re alone. “You, go get what I asked for. Now.” It dips below freezing when he speaks to your dad, the urge to argue is thick in the sigh he lets out, but he rises with a huff and makes his way up the stairs anyway. Once out of sight, you feel his hand on your arm, and then he’s sweeping you into a crushing hug. He smells like cigarettes, like his cologne and engine oil. 

“You free next Thursday?” he whispers into your ear, his lips pressing to that place just under your ear. You nod into his neck, holding onto him tight enough to make your arms ache. 

“I’ll be here–” his mouth finds yours under the ugly yellow lights of your kitchen, frantic, consuming, you’ll see the evidence of this kiss in your panties later. Your dads steps sound down the stairs and then the Clint you’ve come to know evaporates. Instantly, you miss his grip, his smell, his touch. 

“Here.” Your dad sulks, handing Clint a small bundle wrapped in a cloth. He takes it, and leaves without so much as a word for your father. He catches your eye when you follow him to close the door however, leaving you with a wink, and a nervous feeling in your belly.

-

Saturday at the video store is always insane, especially when a bunch of new releases came in on Thursday night. They’re all gone of course, the Friday night crowd snatched them all up but that doesn’t stop people from coming in and asking, hopeful that some good samaritans have returned them early. 

“Sorry–” You speak over your shoulder, the young couple on the other side of the counter wilt, “Nothing in the return bin yet. Your best bet is to come back on Monday, usually they’re dropped off Sunday night.” They sigh, the hope gone. 

“Thanks anyway.” They pout, resigned to look through the aisles for something else, something they haven’t already seen. 

“Hey–” Your manager, Stephen, is going through a shipment at the end of the counter, he looks up at the sound of your voice.

“Need a coffee, want anything?”

“I’m good, you go ahead–Bobby!” He calls out to your coworker, “Come watch the register.” 

The sun is bright; enough so that the jacket hanging in the backroom of the store will probably make its way home in your arms instead of on. The diner is sunny, a little warm but the smell can’t be beat. Savoury and salty, threaded with whatever pies are fresh. Warm sugar and fresh coffee, a hint of sun-warmed plastic, and perfume. 

Lois, the waitress catches your eye and smiles knowingly. 

“Just coffee, honey?” She calls out, making her way behind the counter. 

“Maybe, how are the donuts?” You try to peek over the customers sitting at the counter. 

“If you wait a few minutes I could get you a fresh apple fritter.” She pours steaming coffee into the paper cup, smiling at your exaggerated nod. “Sure thing honey, give me a few.” 

You bounce on your heels, your tongue watering in anticipation. Your fingers practically shake with the promise of the sugar high as you try to dig the change out of your wallet. 

“I got it, here.” Clint’s voice nearly scares you half to death from where he appears behind you. He sets a twenty down on the counter, giving you a wink. 

“You don’t have to–” He tuts, gently holding your hands in their tableau, twisting into your wallet and hands Lois his money. 

“Keep the change Lois, let it cover whatever she wants tomorrow, or the next day.” Lois raises her eyebrow, but nods. 

Your cheeks ache from trying to hold in the smile while you take your coffee and warm donut. His hand settles on your lower back, guiding you gently away from the counter. 

“We keeping this thing a secret from everyone? Or just your dad?” He whispers beside you, your belly trembles, your heart races. 

“What’s more exciting?” You bite your lip, probably doing a very bad job of keeping emotions off your face. He lets out a low laugh. 

“Understood.” He nods, separating from you to move further into the diner, “Say hi to your dad for me, sweetheart.” You watch him make his way over to someone sitting alone in a booth, he doesn’t look back, and for that you’re grateful. 

The gears in your brain resume their regular rhythm, urging you to move from your place, and you do. They move you right into someone walking in through the door, luckily it’s only Jen, your other manager most likely stopping in to grab something before her shift. 

“Sorry!” You smile at her, holding your steaming coffee away from both your bodies. 

“You’re good, bit of a traffic jam.” She laughs, dancing her way around you. She’s closer to your dads age, but fit in a way that told you she took advantage of all those exercise tapes at the store. “Give me a couple of minutes and I’ll walk with you, just need my tea.” 

A few moments later she’s standing next to you once more, steaming tea and what you can only imagine is her usual bran muffin clutched in her hands. 

“Ready?” She pulls your attention away from where Clint sits, following your gaze but saying nothing until you’re both outside and walking down the street. 

“I remember him.” 

“Who?” You speak around a bite of fritter.

“Clint, he's in the diner.” She gestures with a shake of her head. 

“Oh?” 

“Yeah, you’re probably too young to remember but he almost killed a guy like ten-fifteen years ago? It was brutal.” She shakes her head, sipping carefully at her hot tea. You don’t respond, a deep frown settles on your face. You knew he had a reputation, everyone did but this wasn’t something you’d ever heard, and if you had you certainly didn’t remember. She sees the conflict.

“I don’t really know the whole story, but, okay you know Mercy? Sweet lady who works at the pharmacy?” You nod, because yes, everyone knows Mercy. 

“Yeah well, back in the day she was with this guy, real fucking prick–used to beat the shit out of her.” You gasp, “Yeah, we all knew, but she’d been with him since they were kids or something. I don’t know–well I guess he made an enemy out of Clint and long story short, Clint put him in a coma. Knocked out a bunch of teeth, broke his jaw, probably would have killed him if he hadn’t stopped.” 

Ice flows through your veins, the man she’s describing doesn’t align with the one you’ve come to know, come to care about. 

“If you ask me–” She continues, oblivious to your internal crisis, “-he was protecting Mercy but they won’t say. Mercy loves him, refuses to say a single negative word against him, swore that her old man attacked Clint and that it was self-defense but he didn’t have a scratch on him. Makes sense though, with what happened to his mom.” 

“Clint's mom? What do you mean?” You keep forgetting just how small this town actually is, despite its size. 

“Oh yeah, his dad almost killed her. He would get loaded, go home and wail on her. My mom used to work with her before she passed away.” 

The video store bell dings as you make your way inside but it doesn’t feel right, the floor is wobbly, the air is thick. Jen says nothing else, leaves you with new knowledge and new feelings you don’t really know how to process. It doesn’t seem real, the version of him in the park, cooking in his neat little apartment, the version who owns Louis. It doesn’t mesh with the person Jen described. 

It churns and churns, water crashing against the shore, his bright eyes and warm smile–the grip of his hands on your thighs and then broken bones and blood. It’s not as though you can just ask him, something about hearing a rumour about him makes your stomach roil, he’s given you no reason to be afraid of him or to doubt his feelings. With the last bite of fritter, with the last sip of the cooling coffee, you decide to put it out of your mind. 

It’s none of your business. 

---

Tag list: @frannyzooey @greeneyedblondie44 @lola4pedro @221bshrlocked @artsymaddie @supernaturalgirl20 @sleep-tight1 @sherala007 @cannedsoupsucks @thirstworldproblemss @ilikechocolatemilkh @freeshavocadoooo @hrk-fic-recs @maxwell--lord @the-feckless-wonder @kirsteng42 @thisshipwillsail316 @feministfanboi  @stevie75 @readsalot73 @pedrostories @tobealostwanderer @mandocrasis @elegantduckturtle @diogodxlot @alczysz17 @evyiione @absurdthirst @beskarboobs @andruxx @littlemissoblivious @1800-fight-me @maievdenoir @gracie7209 @omlwhatamidoinghere @magikfanatic @frankiecatfish @pedritoispunk @studythoreauly @missswriter @pintsizemama @mswarriorbabe80 @a-trial-run-on-paper @la-le-lu @chickadee-djarin @dobbyjen @rosiefridayrogersunday @ajeff855 @johnsrevelation @the-witty-pen-name 

@zombiesnips-blog @sarahjkl82-blog @fan-of-encouragement @queenofthecloudss @deadhumourist @felicisimor @toomanystoriessolittletime @what-iwish-you-knew @pedrostories @athalien @bi-thewayy @literallydontlook @pedrosbrat @gamingaquarius @luxmundee @iamafadedmoon @nakhudanyx @littlemisspascal @grogusmum @heyitmelexie @killyspinacoladas @gothicxbarbie @evildxad @dragonslarimar @spideysimpossiblegirl @chemtrail-mix @breezythesimp @altarsw @artooies-scream @staygolddindjarin @softsweetedbeauty @littlemisspascal @yuiopiklmn @squidwell @just-blogging-around @bbyanarchist @girlofchaos @maddiedrmr @frasmotic @acourtofsnakes @buckybarneshairpullingkink @astoryisaloveaffair @harriedandharassed  @shirks-all-responsibilities @androah @alwaysachorusgirl @dindjarinsmut @captain-jebi @gallowsjoker 

@tusk89 @dadbodfanatic-x @naiomiwinchester @blazedprince @avidreader73 @mr-underhills-things @avengersfan25 @tastygoldentaters @nyotamalfoy @mymindfuckery @its-nebuleuse @missladym1981 @inept-the-magnificent @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @ladyofmidlo72 @greenvita @honey-on-your-tongue @ladylovesloki @iamladyp @purple-fig @picketniffler @somedayheaven @flw3rrr @lizzie-cakes @bunnibitez @kluvspedro @bluesweaters15 @freyablack90 @frodofreakingbaggins @madnessofadaydreamer @iknowisoundcrazyreads @the-last-twin-of-krypton @vibin-hippie @callmebyyournick-name @ro-nahime-things

[cressidagrey]

Holy Ground - Chapter 2

Summary:

Nobody knew that Azriel found his mate. Until she nearly died. This is the aftermath.

Warning:

Rhys Bashing (as usual), Inner Circle Bashing (kinda), Referenced/Implied Sexual Assault, Referenced/Implied Domestic Violence, Discussion of Religion(?), Chronic Injury/Pain/Illness, Minor Character Death (It's probably nobody you love), Magical Work Accidents, Explosions, Injuries

If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please take care of your own mental health and don't read it.

Azriel’s shadows liked to spoil his mate rotten.

Not that Azriel could find anything wrong with that.

She deserved more for putting up with him. 

More than new tea from the Dawn Court and her favourite chocolate covered, wafer thin cookies from a small bakery near the Sidra…more than the occasional embroidery thread they snuck her…More than whatever animal he went to go hunt, to cover his bed in even more furs just for her. 

He nearly had enough Sable furs to have a blanket made for her for Winter Solstice…

Azriel also had half a mind to go sneak in her office later that day. 

Just as a treat for not killing either of his brothers. For being civil. 

Rhys had come over for sparring, unnannounced. 

Azriel had hoped to have some peace and quiet today, but it seemed like Rhys had other plans. 

Currently Cassian and Rhys were wrestling with less sense than they had had when they were just kids, and Azriel was cleaning his weapons, watching from the sidelines.

Azriel couldn't help but roll his eyes at the sight of his brothers roughhousing. It was typical of them to turn a simple sparring session into some kind of ridiculous competition. He focused on sharpening his knives, trying to ignore their antics.

"You know, we could also actually train properly," he called out, his tone dry. "Instead of wrestling like a bunch of children."

Cassian looked up from his grappling with Rhys, grinning. "Oh, come on Az. Don't be such a stick in the mud. Loosen up, have a little fun for once."

Azriel's expression remained impassive. "I'm perfectly capable of having fun, Cassian. But I prefer to do so without rolling around in the dirt like a wild animal."

Rhysand chuckled, standing up and clapping Cassian on the back. "It's good to let loose every now and then, Az. You should try it sometime. It might make your brooding sessions a little less depressing."

Azriel just grunted in response, not willing to engage in a verbal sparring match with Rhys. He continued to clean his weapons, hoping that the training session would end soon so he could escape his brothers' teasing.

“When did you even come home yesterday?” Cassian asked him.

Azriel looked up from his work, his expression neutral. "Around 11," he said simply.

“You didn’t come to dinner,” Rhys pointed out. “You were missed.”

He highly doubted that.

And maybe he had made that mission in Dawn just a little while longer, so that he knew that dinner would be over and when he came home, he wouldn’t need to be alone.

Azriel just shrugged. "I was busy," he said, offering no further explanation. He knew his brothers were just trying to rile him up, and he wasn't about to give them the satisfaction of a reaction.

*Are you still pissed of at me?* Rhys asked him mentally with a sigh. *I get it. But you don’t need to avoid everybody else, just because…*

*I’m not avoiding anyone,* Azriel replied, his mental voice tight. *I’m simply choosing to spend my time how I see fit.*

“I was busy,” he repeated aloud.

Cassian rolled his eyes. "You're always busy, Az. You know, there's such thing as taking a break once in a while. Spending time with your family."

Or he could spent time with his mate. He could spent time with his mate, who let him brush her hair and even braid it …who pressed kisses to his horrible scarred hands and smiled at him. 

If it was a choice between Irena or a family dinner where he didn’t want to stay longer than an hour or two, because he was still too fucking pissed off at Rhys…the choice was easy. 

“Or is there a special somebody?” Cassian teased him.

Azriel glowered at him. "It’s none of your business." He went back to working on his weapons, his expression tense.

*You can’t keep panting after Elain for the rest of your life,* Rhys said mentally. *Look, I know I didn’t…I am sorry. But she’s happy with Lucien and…*

*Don’t worry, I’ll go to a pleasure hall and pay for it if I want to fuck somebody,* Azriel shot back viciously.

Or his own hand would suffice. More than suffice, especially if…especially if Irena had let him kiss her the evening before…sometimes he waited until she disappeared into her room, and he buried his face in the pillows that smelled like her, fisted his cock and rutted like an untried boy for seconds before he came all over himself. 

It was still better than any other sex he ever had had before.

Cassian raised an eyebrow at him. "It sounds like you need to get laid," he said, chuckling. "Maybe that'll help with your bad mood."

Azriel shot him a glare. "Mind your own business, Cassian. My love life is none of your concern."

Rhysand gave him a sympathetic look. *We just want you to be happy, Az. You deserve happiness.*

“Ohhh, touchy,” Cassian said with a snort.

Azriel just gritted his teeth, his temper rising. "Cassian, if you don’t shut your mouth right now, I swear to the Mother, I’ll shut it for you."

Cassian just grinned at him. "Come on, Az. I’m just teasing you. Lighten up."

Azriel's grip on his weapons tightened. "I don't like your teasing, Cassian. And I certainly don't appreciate you making assumptions about my personal life.”

Mostly he just wanted his brothers to leave him the hell alone.

And then...then before he could say another thing...he felt the shaking.

And then the sound came. An eardrum shattering explosion, the very foundation of the House of Wind shaking. It was terrifying him.

Irena was down there in her office. Nesta was in there. 

He was moving before he was even thinking. 

*Merrill's office, Master!* the shadows screeched.

Azriel was already running.

Cassian hot on his heels, so was Rhys.

Azriel was faster, heaving shadows around his limbs as he rocketed down the spiral stairs of the House of Wind.

Level Two, Straight to the right. Clearly...Clearly the epicenter of the blast. Of the explosion…of whatever had happened.

He pushed as hard as he could, legs burning as he hurtled down the hallway to Merrill's office.

He wasn't the only one. "Merrill!" He could hear Gwyn's shrill voice screaming, coming to a stop in a hallway of what had once been Merrill's office but now was just...

It was a mass of wood and rubble.

He barely slowed down, scrambling into action. Gwyn was already digging through it, so where Nesta and Emerie. Cassian landed behind him, immediately moving some of the debris.

His shadows swarmed as he and the others quickly dug at the rubble. Looking, desperately looking.

He moved another piece of rubble out of the way...a piece of blue cloths. The same blue cloth that he knew covered Irena's body, the scent of poppies clinging to her...Without a thought, he grasped and then dragged, a hoarse shout that was her, that was her...

He felt as if he were choking, as if he were drowning as he dragged out her body. Bloody, bruised, broken but still...still there was a faint flicker, a faint, thready heartbeat.

His heartbeat pounding in his ears, he tried to pick up on her heart. There was barely a flicker. Too fast, too faint, she was barely holding on. Barely hanging by a thread.

There was blood pooling on her abdomen, dying the blue dress she wore bright scarlet red, He put pressure on that wound immediately, leaning on her with nearly all his weight, his fingers slick with blood. "Damn it, stay with me, love," he demanded sharply.

Azriel felt like he could barely breath. Like he was falling, tumbling down as he tried to will her to stay with him. Stay. Stay. Stay. Please stay. Stay...

Rhys was there suddenly, checking her pulse. "Breathing is erratic. She's in shock," he told Azriel with a grimace. "Mor is getting Madja..."

"Az..." her voice was so weak, but he turned to see dark brown eyes watching him, brows furrowing.

"Just keep breathing, Love," he told her, trying to stop his voice from shaking.

He could barely hear what was going on around him. It was as if he were in a bubble, a world of just himself and her and the desperate beat of her heart under his fingers.

"I am sorry," she whispered.

"There is nothing you need to apologise for her, Irena," he promised her sharply. "Absolutely nothing."

Irena's eyes drifted shut. Azriel felt like something was dying inside him as her heartbeat fluttered against his fingertips. His world was collapsing, shattering into pieces as her breath stuttered.

"Stay. Just stay..." he was barely aware of what he was saying, his eyes frantically searching hers. She had to stay. He would do anything to keep her here. Anything.

"I am still owing you that flight," he told her. She hadn't let him take her flying yet. They had snuck away in the library...in the rooftop garden...in her office. But he had never gotten to take her flying. He had never gotten to take her out into Velaris. They had never had a date at a fancy restaurant, had never gone to see the symphony. There were thousands of things that he hadn't yet gotten to do with his mate, because they had all the time in the world.

Irena just stared at him, her eyes pleading, as her heartbeat slowed, fluttering weaker and weaker. Azriel felt a sharp pain in his chest as fear clawed at his spine. "Just hold on a little longer, love," he whispered. "Please."

And then there Madja. Thank the cauldron. There she was.

Azriel could barely manage to let go of her, his mind consumed with the singular thought of Irena's laboured, erratic heartbeat as he moved back. Madja immediately set to work.

He lunged for her head, lunged to pull it on his lap, to touch her with blood slick fingertips, her normally rosy red lips pale, her skin even whiter than usual.

"Hurts," she whispered, as Madja set to work, barking orders.

"I know, I know, love," he whispered, touching her cheek with his fingertips as Madja got to work.

His eyes searched hers as he murmured those words over and over, as if he could somehow hold her in this world through sheer force of will alone.

"We haven't had enough time," he whispered desperately, leaning his forehead against hers.

She was slipping away. He could feel it. Feel her slipping, feel her heartbeat slow. Feel the thread that tethered her to this world fray, fray, fray...

No. He couldn't lose her. Would not let her leave him. He had waited far too long for her. Far, far too long to let her slip through his fingers.

"Stay with me," he pleaded. "Please stay with me."

But her eyes were slipping shut, her head lolling to the side. He gently patted her cheek, trying to urge her back to consciousness, but he didn't think he was even really aware of what he was doing, where he was. The world had boiled down to a desperate litany, in his head. Stay...stay...please...don't you dare...

“I am going to be so furious with you if you die. We may have our first fight,” he told her fiercely.

He needed her to know that he would be there to be furious with her if she dared to die, that she couldn't die. Couldn't. That she had to stay. Had to keep fighting. There were too many things ahead of them...a wedding to plan, children to have, years and years of life to live.

“Az,” she breathed his name, her eyes not even open anymore.

“Open your eyes, Irena,” he demanded. “Look at me, love,”

Her eyes finally fluttered open at his command. It was barely more than a slither of brown, but he latched onto it, taking it for what it was. A chance. A moment to get through to her.

He wasn't sure what he was saying, but the words spilled forth from him, a litany, a desperate prayer. "Please," he breathed, "don't go...don't you dare..."

He was dimly aware that the others had gathered, but he didn't dare look away. Didn't dare look away from her as he cradled her head, trying to pour all of his prayers into those words. All of his hope and desperation.

"You can't go." A statement. An order. An absolute certainty in his voice. "I will not let you go."

He wouldn't. Would never, ever let her go. Would drag her back from the Cauldron's grasp with bloodied and broken hands if thats what had to be.

She didn't speak. Didn't need to. He could read her answer in her eyes, the determination in those brown eyes as she tried so, so hard to stay.

It was as if she were holding on for him, because he had asked her to. Because it was him there with her. Like she would fight until her last breath because he told her too. He didn't deserve this beautiful creature, who was willing to fight for him, willing to live for him.

It was something primal, something desperate, something fierce as he whispered those words over and over, like a prayer. "Fight. Fight. Fight."

And she listened. She did. He could feel her hold on, just barely grasp hold of that tether that kept her in this world. Just barely keep her eyes open.

Just look at him.

And she did, those dark eyes unfocused but open, staring up at him, watching him. Trying so, so hard. It nearly made his heart stop in the most terrible way that she was struggling for him.

And he was so proud of her. Of the way she was fighting like she was. Of the way she was grasping, hanging on to life like she was.

The seconds stretched too thin, feeling like eternities and only the slightest of moments. But her eyes were open, if only barely. She hadn't given up. Hadn't let go.

He was dimly aware of the others, Gwyn hovering with a worried expression, Madja murmuring quiet instructions to the others, Rhys kneeling not far away. But he barely glanced at them, barely dared to take his eyes off Irena.

He was certain that if he looked away, if he let this tenuous thread sever, that she would die. That as long as he kept her here, she wouldn't slip, wouldn't let go.

He had one hand on her cheek, her skin still clammy and pale, as her eyes slipped open and shut. But everytime, they would find his face. His eyes, like he was the only thing tethering her to the world. It hurt. Hurt so much to see her barely holding on, only that last sliver of determination keeping her here.

"Please," he pleaded, whispering those words like a prayer, like he would be praying to a vengeful god. Those moments felt like eternities, stretching on and on with only his desperate whispers. "Please..."

The world felt so still, so silent as if the world was holding its breath. Azriel's eyes locked on Irena, silently begging her, asking her to please, please...

Live, live live... he whispered those words over and over, a desperate plea to the Mother, the Cauldron, to anyone who would listen. To Irena, the only person in the entire world who truly mattered in that moment.

Her eyes were growing glassy, slipping closed only to jerk open again. Stay he demanded. Keep looking at me. Please.

She tried. Mother, she tried. Her eyes drifted to him, the smallest hint of life, of a spark there in those dark brown eyes.

He hardly dared to breathe, hardly dared to move. Afraid that any wrong move could tip her over the edge, could pull her into that chasm of non-existence that she was desperately clinging too.

He felt something pricking at his eyes, felt something in his chest cracking, breaking at the sheer intensity of emotions thrumming through him. It hurt. Hurt so much to see her like this, so pale, barely holding on, barely conscious...

“Alright,” Madja said quietly. “Good girl. You were so very brave.”

"Will...will she be alright?" He asked, voice hoarse.

He didn't let his eyes drift from Irena's face, her half lidded eyes staring at him. It filled him with such an intense pang of relief and fear at the same time. Relief, because she was alive...and fear, because they had been so close to losing her.

"She's not out of the woods yet," Madja warned. "But she'll make it. She lost a lot of blood. It will take some time to get her vitals stable again."

He felt like he could breathe for the first time. It was almost dizzying, the sheer, intense relief that flooded through him. Irena was here. Irena would live. It filled his veins with an almost drug like euphoria, that made him light headed, a smile twitching at the corners of his lips.

He barely managed to keep that feeling in, the pure euphoria from showing as he smoothed a strand of hair back from her face. "Thank you," he whispered, voice hoarse, eyes finally dragging away from Irena's face to look at Madja. "Just...thank you."

He looked back at Irena, taking in her face. Alive. Still alive. Still here with him, not gone. The tension seeped from his shoulders, a strange sort of exhaustion taking over. As if all the adrenaline that had fueled him, the fear, was slowly draining out of him like water.

“Merrill,” Irena whispered, her voice near silent.

Azriel felt his fingers brush her cheek, just the gentlest touch as he tried to keep it together. It had been too close. Too, too close. He couldn't stop the overwhelming feelings flowing through him of elation and fear as he looked down at her as he looked down at her, alive. Alive and breathing and whispering soft words. "Shhh," he whispered softly. "Save your strength. Don't strain yourself."

He looked up finding Cassians gaze who just shook his head. Merrill was dead.

Azriel couldn't quite process that information, not in that moment. His eyes were still drawn to Irena, still unable to take his eyes off of her for more than a moment. His fingers brushed her cheek again, just the faintest touch as he pressed a small kiss to her forehead. "Rest," he instructed softly. "I'll be right there.” He promised.

“Being here to her room,” Madja said quietly.

“My room,” he corrected.

The priestesses dormitory was locked from males. If he even tried to get in there it would’ve end well for him. And he wouldn’t leave her side.

“Your room?” Gwyn asked sharply.

“Gwyn,” Rhys said quietly.Azriel didn't even acknowledge Gwyn's words, didn't have the energy. All he could focus on was the way Irena's eyes had drifted shut, the steady rise and fall of her chest. She would be alright. She was going to be alright. She was alive. Right now, in that moment, thats all that mattered.

“Az, how long have the two of you…” Cassian asked hesitantly.

Azriel just shrugged, his hand resting on Irena's hair, smoothing back from her face. “Two years. She’s my mate,” he said flatly as he gathered her up. 

“Mate,” she rasped. “Mine.”

“Yours,” he agreed softly.

[decojellyfish]

So we saw Guard dog! ghost and kitten! reader

Rescued fighting dogs! Ghost and Soap with cat! reader

how about we get some of Price adopting a puppy! reader and reader having to learn the ropes from Older dogs! Ghost, Soap, and Gaz(maybe??)?

or just Price rescuing another former fighting dog! reader and them being all defensive against former fighting dogs! Ghost, Soap and Gaz(maybe??), maybe even fighting against them when they(soap) try to get too close for reader’s comfort

Thank you so much for being my second request!! I decided to go with the second prompt you offered me, and I had fun writing it! I just don't have fun making you guys cry because, fair warning, this one is gonna be angstyyy... 😔 But I hope you guys enjoy!

------

Bite

Hybrid AU! TF141 Retired Fight Dog! Gaz, Ghost, and Soap x Retired Fight Dog! GN! Reader x Owner! Price Reader is only addressed as ‘you’

SFW ~ Angst

Warnings: Brief/occasional swearing, mentions of abuse, depression, extreme violence, trauma

───♡───────────── Beginning Your body ached. You didn’t know if it was because you were starving, or if it was your muscles and joints crying out for help from your most recent fight. It was a couple of hours ago, and it was rough. Your previous owner had disowned you when he found a new pup to use and abuse for profit. Part of you was happy, the years of abuse and ruthless training were over. The other part of you was absolutely terrified. You had no more food, no treats, no worn-out bed for you to sleep on, and no roof over your head.

You’d been homeless for nearly a year. You gave up on keeping exact track months ago. Your slightly sunken stomach never ceases its eternal growl, constantly yearning for food. Dumpster diving has become a part of your lifestyle. You had managed to find some food, albeit moldy and/or coated in garbage juices, but it was still food. ‘Food is fight fuel’ was constantly echoing through your head, while you fought off the sickness going through your head as realization set in that you were literally eating garbage. Sometimes, you even wondered if food was even worth it. You weren’t fighting as much as you used to. Sometimes you were suddenly assaulted by other stray fighter dogs as well, forcing you to live in constant paranoia, anxiety, and a never-ending feeling like you had to fight.

There were times that you even lashed out at strangers because of this constant fear. Domesticated dogs would find themselves abruptly thrown into a fight when you were around. They would leave with scratches, bites, bruises, and even chunks of flesh missing due to your fierce bite. In the underground fighting scene, you were most known for how gnarly the wounds from your bites would be.

This would result in animal control being called on you. But you’d evaded them countless times, which meant that you were far from where you originally came from. You would bounce from alley to alley, town to city. You were far from home if you could even call where you came from ‘a home’.

Though you were far from old enemies, you still made new ones. You were so used to lashing out that you were still getting into fights, but now you were getting into fights with fight dogs you didn’t even know.

Some days, you were tired. So tired, you just wanted to lay in your current alleyway and just rot. Let the bugs eat away at you, sometimes you even want to turn yourself into the pound. At least there you would have food in your belly and a semi-warm place to sleep. On other days, you were mad. So mad, you just wanted to paint the town red with any kind of blood, even your own.

Today was a tired day. You were lying against a wall, it was raining. Rain would be the closest you had to being bathed. Your rotted clothes were soaked and falling apart, your hair sticking to your face and skin as you stared at the opposing wall. Your eyes had nothing behind them, you were lost in your little world. Your happy place.

You imagined yourself in a cabin, or a cottage, just somewhere secluded and cozy. You had a loving partner, and pups of your own to take care of. A garden in the backyard, full of fruit, vegetables, and herbs. A flower garden in the front yard, full of daffodils, tulips, rose bushes, and trumpet lilies. You wore soft clothes like they were made of clouds. In your happy place, you were warm. In your happy place, you were safe.

Unfortunately, you were ripped out of your happy place by a smell. A familiar smell. Multiple familiar smells. Your heart had already started to beat rapidly, and the sense of adrenaline you had when in the fighting ring was coming back, slapping you in the face. You shifted your position from laying back against a wall to standing up and ready to fight, your teeth already beginning to show and a low growl slowly leaving your throat.

Familiar smells were never good, it meant that someone who had been made an enemy was close. Another fight was about to happen. You could hear men chatting with each other, though it was muffled by the ringing in your ear as your brain was now filled with nothing but adrenaline, panic, and one word. Fight.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Price was going on his weekly walk with his boys, all rescues. His home had become somewhat of a mini rehabilitation center. His pups, although fully grown dogs, were his pride and joy to be around. Gaz was his first rescue about seven years ago, Soap was rescued about two years after Gaz, and Ghost had been rescued three years before today. Price, himself, was a retired military veteran.

He enjoyed going on walks with his pups, he found it to be a nice bonding experience. Although today was rainy, it didn’t stop the group from following tradition. Gaz loved the rain, the sound and the feeling of raindrops hitting windows, umbrellas, or even himself was beyond calming for him. Soap didn’t particularly like rain, it mostly made him think of those unbelievably sad scenes in movies that involved rain, like an intense breakup. Ghost was neutral about it.

But Ghost found himself focused on something else, a smell. He glanced over at Soap, who could also smell this sudden scent. “Stop.” Ghost spoke firmly, grabbing Price’s shoulders and looking at the rest of the group. “Stay here, I smell something.” “Ghost, I don’t want you getting hurt-“ Price protested, only to be interrupted by Soap. “Stay, somethin’s here tha’ could rip out your throat.”

Gaz was worried as well, even though the scent wasn’t as familiar to him as it was to Ghost and Soap. He could smell a large amount of adrenaline and even panic or fear mixed in.

Ghost slowly walked up to the scent source and braced himself, slowly watching as a familiar face came into view. The two of you had been through plenty of fights together, each parting putting up a massive fight. You were snarling at him when he approached you, your body unconsciously moving closer to the wall, further away from him as he grew closer. Your hollow, starved appearance had him taken aback. You looked terrible. You were coated in scabs, bruises, and open wounds that had miraculously not gotten infected.

Your heart was beating so fast, that both you and Ghost could hear it. He had his hands up, his palms open as he showed he wasn’t looking for a fight. That didn’t stop you though. All you could see was all those fights, years ago. Ghost snarling back at you before he would nearly tear a chunk out of you while you almost ripped both of his ears off. You lunged at him with a loud bark, tackling him as you began to scratch and bite at him.

The group was startled, and terrified. They would all run to Ghost as they tried to get this rabid dog off of him. Of course, four men against you was an unfair fight and you were swiftly removed from the fight.

Soap held you against the ground, crouching over you as he pinned both of your arms behind your back as you continued to snarl and attempt to bite. You panted and stared at them with wide eyes, mostly focusing on Ghost and Soap since they were enemies from the past.

“You’re gonna fucking kill me, aren’t you..?” You spoke shakily, to either of the boys. Soap could feel how strong and deep your breaths were as you hyperventilated.

All the men shared a glance of worry, Soap spoke up, “We’re not those dogs anymore.” Ghost would nod in shared agreement. “You don’t look so good, since the last time I saw you.” He looked down at you, noting how your stomach churned from hunger, how tired your eyes were, and your slightly raspy breath. Even your recent wounds worried him, some nearly looking like early stages of infection.

You grunted as you struggled under him, “Yeah, well, ‘m happy to see you guys living the high life.” You grumbled, the other dogs’ ears twitching as they heard a slight crack in your voice. You couldn’t ignore it, you were jealous. They didn’t look as tired as they did at your last fight, not on edge all the time, they looked well fed, and they smelled good too. And worst of all, what made you want to lash out at all of them, even their owner, was the fact that they looked happy with this new life. The life that you desired that always seemed to be out of reach.

All the men looked back at Price, Gaz included, with one question in their eyes. ‘Can we keep them?’

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Taking you back to their home was a fight in it of itself. You couldn’t help but be scared. Maybe they were all tricking you, maybe they were gonna lock you up in their house and sell you off to another owner in the underground fighting scene. Maybe they really were going to kill you. You only felt slightly safe with Gaz, but that’s because he didn’t look as scarred a fighter as Ghost and Soap, and his eyes held a safer gaze than the other two. He would hold your hand on the way home, firmly but protectively. However, he only did this after you attempted to run away from the group about 4 times.

Arriving at the Price household, there was an overwhelming amount of smells. Everything smelled like all the boys, but individually and in one unit all at the same time. You would stay close to the front door at the entrance, scared to step one foot further into the house. You still didn’t know if it was safe or not. Price respected this, though. He had Gaz let go of your hand so you could settle into the house at your own pace. The look of fear in your eyes was one that he was familiar with, he’d seen it in all his other boys when he first brought them home.

He had the boys all continue on with their night, only giving you directions to the bathroom in case you needed it at some point.

As time went on, your legs would grow tired of just standing. You remained seated, close to the door as you watched the household live out their lives. Price would only stop by you once for the night, and it was to give you a late-night snack and to wish you a good night. He had set down a plate with pieces of watermelon and a glass of water. He left after that, supposedly going to bed. The boys would stay up a bit later, they would watch you in secret. But you were quickly able to tell they were spying on you, however, you let them continue.

You saw it as a way to test if they were trustworthy. Your ears slightly twitch as you listen to their whispers.

“...how do you know them…?” Gaz would whisper, curiosity lacing his voice. “...Ghost and I have had a few tussles with ‘em years ago…” “...Fierce dog… don’t underestimate them…” Ghost grumbled in reply, Soap nodding in agreement. “...Nearly took mah whole face off…” Soap chuckled. “...They almost got my ears…” Ghost added.

You would faintly smile at the warning of underestimating you as a fighter dog. But then you were reminded that you were a fighter dog. And a successful one. Any moral being would never want to be a successful fighter dog. That meant you were scary and either could have killed or even mutilated another dog. Memories of all your fights would flash across your mind, like a blinding camera shot. Your successful ones, the ones where you would lose and your owner showed you what bad dogs get for losing. The bits of compassion you would feel for your opponent as they bleed out, or yowled in pain as their bones broke, pellets of skin torn off, or their bleeding gums from when you knocked nearly all their teeth out.

You wanted to hug them, apologize to them, tell them that you wished you could fix them. Only to have those moments of kindness wiped from your mind as the shrieks and cheers of your owner and the people who bet money on you were released into the air.

Coming back to reality, you were perplexed when you didn’t hear the whispers anymore. Taking a chance, you glanced up at the boys. Only to see that they were now staring at you, curious and worried. You didn’t know why they were staring until you heard a soft pit-pat against the floor beneath you.

Glancing down, you saw little droplets. Your hand instinctively raised to your face, feeling little beads of tears and the streaks they left behind on your face. You would quickly smear your tears away and shoot the dogs a mean growl before reluctantly stuffing a piece of watermelon into your mouth. You just wanted something else to focus on aside from the stares you were getting right now.

An hour later, the men had all gone to sleep and you had eaten all the food Price had given you and drank all the water he offered. You stayed awake throughout the whole night, however. You still didn’t trust anyone, believing the house was a trap.

Morning arrived, your eyes tired but still open as you didn’t want to lose your guard. Price was the first one up, yawning and scratching at his chest as he walked into the room. He would glance down at you, smiling when he saw you’d eaten all your food.

“Food was good, yeah? Don’t worry, I’ll get you some more soon.” He chuckled, taking your empty dishes away and heading into the kitchen.

You felt awkward now, just sitting there as Price had begun to cook breakfast. You would quietly stand up and slink into the kitchen, sitting on the cold tile as you would watch him from a random corner of the room. It had been about ten minutes before Price would look over his shoulder to check on you, only seeing that you weren’t in your previous spot. He would then glance down at you in your new spot, chuckling to himself.

“Got bored of the old spot?” He asked before going back to cooking. He didn’t expect you to be speaking right out the gate, all the other boys were like that too when he first took them in. After a few minutes, Gaz would walk in, rubbing at his eye. A big smile formed on his face as he smelled the currently cooking food. “Smells good in here, Price.” He would then finally look at you, mildly surprised you had moved but he would regain his smile.

Waving at you, he would approach you but keep his distance. “Did you sleep well last night…?” You silently stared at him, your restlessness very obvious, especially in your eyes. “Did you sleep- at all last night…?” He looked concerned, his brows only furrowing more when you shook your head no. “...Too scared?” You stayed quiet. “That’s okay, Ghost and I were like that too.” He smiled at you. You couldn’t deny it, he was a comforting ball of sunshine to you.

“I could set up a bed on the couch for you, I could even keep the telly on for you if you like falling asleep to that sort of thing.” You remained quiet as he talked to you, causing him to let out a slightly amused but comforting huff. “That’s okay, you can think about it during breakfast.”

Breakfast included food that was the most delicious food you had devoured in years. French toast, fried eggs, bacon. You would quietly inhale the first actual meal you’d had in a long time, everyone else watching you at the kitchen table, some trying not to laugh at your eagerness.

You awkwardly stared at everyone else, wiping away some yolk on your mouth with your hand. Price chuckled, “That reminds me, we ought to give you a bath today and get you some new clothes.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You awkwardly sat in the tub as Gaz would scrub a sudsy sponge along your back. Price was washing some clothes, making sure the scent was cleaned out so you had no trouble with wearing them.

“Don’t worry, I was like this when Price first took me in.” He laughed a little. “Quiet, scared, and I didn’t know if this place was my permanent home. But it is my home, and it’s gonna be your home too.” He smiled at you, now rubbing shampoo into your hair. “...what’s it like?” You looked up at him. “Y’know, living here? What’s it like?”

Gaz thought for a bit, also trying to make sure none of the shampoo got in your eyes. “Well, it’s nice. Good food, good clothes, good comfort. Price will sometimes pick up our favorite snacks for us, he’ll do that for you too, you just need to ask him or write it on the grocery list. We go on weekly walks around the block, sometimes we go to the park which is really fun. Especially with Soap, he really likes to play games at the park.”

That surprised you, you never took Soap to be a ‘fun games at the park’ kind of dog. Well, that could also be because you never got to see him or Ghost as a domesticated dog, your only memories of them being in the fighting rink. Maybe they have changed. Maybe you should give them a chance to show you they’ve changed.

Maybe they were doing that all along since they found you, only holding you down instead of attacking you in response to being attacked by an old foe.

The bath was eventually drained and you were dried off with a towel, Price coming in with a pair of folded up clothes, a t-shirt and some sweatpants. You were left alone in the bathroom to get dressed, also to let you just have time to yourself.

After a few minutes, you stepped out of the bathroom in your new attire. You couldn’t lie, the clothes were beyond comfy and were nice and warm. Probably fresh out of the dryer. The rest of the boys were on the couch, watching a show on the TV. You would stare at them before slowly beginning to move your legs towards the couch as well.

They would notice your approaching, but wouldn’t bring any extra attention to it. They all remember their first time trying to get comfortable in the new home. It honestly warmed their hearts watching you hesitate on where to sit before eventually picking a spot and huddling into the soft pillows.

Price was already dressed for the day and was writing down the current shopping list before slipping his shoes on. “Oy, Gaz, you’re coming with me for groceries today.” He called out to the couch, Gaz promptly getting up and putting his own shoes on. He waved to you and the other two before stepping out the front door, Price giving a wave as well. “We’ll be back in 30.”

You sat there in silence, now stuck with your past enemies. There was tension, no doubt. At least, that’s what you felt. You were the one who was constantly looking over at the boys, a nervous sweat forming on your forehead. The two were just sitting there, watching the commercials play and pass by.

Now that the only pacifists in the house were gone, they were going to pounce at any second. You were sure of it. At any given moment, they were gonna do it. So you sat there, in a state of constant fear and bracing yourself for a fight you didn’t even know would happen.

Ghost noticed your condition, Soap a few seconds later would see it too. “... you okay, pup?” Soap would ask, seeing the little bits of sweat on your skin. “You’re scared.” Ghost stated, looking deep into your defensive form. “You don’t need to be, you’re safe now. We all are. We aren’t the same dogs you fought those years ago.”

They continued to watch you, watching as you stayed quiet and just stared at them expectantly. “We know you’re also no’ the same dog from those fights. Ye dinnae have a choice, only doin’ tha’ for your own survival. Like us.” Soap’s eyes were full of empathy and concern.

“No need to be scared. It’s safe here.” He smiled at you, slowly reaching out to you to rub your shoulder.

You only saw the worst in people, you would see a possible future where he was reaching out to strangle you instead of comforting you. You thought you could see his teeth start to bare, maybe he was snarling at you.

You felt like you were back in the fighting ring. You could feel the adrenaline begin pulsing and coursing through your veins.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You didn’t know how you did it, it went by so fast. The last thing you saw was Soap’s teething smile and his hand. Now you were pressed up against a wall, hyperventilating at the sight of what you just did.

First, you  grabbed his arm, throwing him to the ground before you began to bite and tear at his flesh and clothes. You woke up when Ghost pinned you to the ground, keeping your wrists together so you couldn’t hurt anyone or yourself. You scrambled away from him and coward into a corner.

You thought you were doing good, only a day into this house and you were doing so good. You didn’t feel like a good pup, not anymore. You weren’t deserving of this house, these new clothes. the food that resided in your stomach. You were a bad dog. There was no way you could look any of the boys in the eye now. Not after what you did.

Lost in a tsunami of your thoughts, you couldn’t hear Ghost trying to reassure you, that it was normal for an outburst like this to happen. He, himself, did it to Price. He brought Soap to the bathroom, taking out the first aid kit along with a few extra bandages. Living in a house with a bunch of retired fighter dogs, the first aid kits would be a bit more extreme than a regular, everyday one.

When he returned to check on you, to tell you that Soap was going to be okay, he didn’t see you in your corner. Not even the spot you were in on your first day here. But he saw that right next to the spot, the door was left open.

They lost you. ───♡───────────── End

If you have any requests, or asks, feel free to submit them!

[moonstruckme]

im literally in lovee with your writing of sirius black id love love love more of him x reader pleasee [my favourite is friends to lovers or just being super domestic but tbh I'd read anything u write with him in lmaoo]

Thank you for requesting lovely! It worked out that I'd just written this when I got your ask, so I hope it fits what you're wanting!

cw: reader has hair long enough to tie back

Sirius Black x whimsical!reader ♡ 833 words

Sirius finds you out behind Remus’ house, sitting in the grass and, by all appearances, playing with mud. 

“Hey there,” he says, “did you manage to find the bathroom?” 

You have a tendency to wander off. Sometimes it’s intentional, sometimes you get lost, and Sirius can never tell which is happening at any given time. As much as he’d like to tie a string between you so you’re never very far, he’s learned to let you go where you will; you always end up where you want to be anyways. 

“You were talking about football,” you say by way of answer, the slightest hint of sheepishness in your sweet voice. “I thought you wouldn’t mind if I went off for a bit.” 

Sirius hums and lowers himself onto the grass beside you, stretching his legs out. The sun is warm and welcome on his face, just enough breeze to keep it from getting too hot. 

It’s a beautiful day, you’d noted upon waking up this morning, already opening the windows in his bedroom. 

Looks like it, Sirius said from bed. He smiled wryly. It’ll probably be the last decent one we have all year.

You’d frowned. That’s not a very nice way to manifest the weather. 

While Sirius is upturned, you’re bent over, messing with something in your hands and dipping your fingers occasionally into a pail of water. 

“What’ve you got there, pretty girl?” 

“A mug,” you say simply. You thumb concentratedly at the slimy thing in your hands, lips pursing. “Or, a soon-to-be-mug.” 

“And you’re making it out of…mud?” 

“No,” you laugh, looking up at your boyfriend in that fond, indulgent way you have. Like he can be so silly sometimes. “Remember how Remus said there was clay by the stream back that way? I’m using some of that.” 

“Ah.” Sirius tilts his head, studying the misshapen lump in your hands. “I see. And this is going to be a drinking mug?” 

You hum in affirmation, and he leaves it at that. He’s not terribly sure whatever you end up with will be able to hold water, but he knows better than to try and dissuade you once you’ve set your mind to something. Maybe he can sign the both of you up for a pottery class sometime. 

A piece of hair falls from behind your ear, and you blow at it, trying to keep it out of your face with your hands occupied.

“Here,” Sirius offers. He takes an elastic off his wrist, gathering the hair away from your face and tying it back loosely the way you like it. 

You gift him a sideways smile in return. A bit of dried clay on your cheek cracks with the movement. Evidently, this isn’t the first time you’ve had to push your hair back. “Thank you.” 

“Baby,” he says, voice laden with fondness. He steadies your face with one hand, swiping at the clay with the other. “You’ve got it all over you.” 

It’s true. It covers your hands up past your wrists, and several places on your legs have pale gray tracks where you’ve wiped your fingers off on them. 

“It’s a messy business,” you say matter-of-factly, “but it dries sort of pretty, I think. Do you want some?” 

He cocks an eyebrow. “How do you mean?” 

You set your soon-to-be-mug down gingerly, extending a hand to him. “Give me your arm.” 

Sirius suppresses a sigh. He didn’t really plan on getting dirty today, but he’s hardly in the habit of denying you anything you ask for. He sets his forearm in your hand. 

You dip a finger into the wettest part of your clay, setting it to the skin above his wrist. Your touch is cool and slick on his sun-warmed skin. You draw a little star like you’re fingerpainting, the clay a funny contrast to the dark tattoos surrounding it. 

You look so pleased with your work that Sirius can’t help himself. He leans forward, giving you a drawn-out, amorous kiss. 

“Thank you,” he says in his most saccharine voice. 

Your lashes flutter prettily as you blink, a rare shy smile taking you. “You’re welcome.” 

Sirius dips two fingers into your pail of water, using them to wipe the remaining clay off your cheek more thoroughly. When he’s done, he spots another smudge on your shoulder, inexplicable. He tsks. “When you’re done with your mug, we might have to ask Remus if you can use his shower, lovely girl. You really do have it all over you.” 

“Oh, there’s no need to trouble him,” you say airily. “The stream’s not very far, and it’s flowing rather quickly with all the rain we’ve been having.” 

He blinks. “Did you bring your swimsuit?”

You look at him bemusedly. “No. Why?” 

Sirius bends his head, letting his hair fall like a curtain to conceal his smile as he kisses the clean part of your shoulder. “I think it’d be better if you used Remus’ shower, sweetheart. I’m sure he won’t mind.”

[fungateshortcakes]

The Best There Is (according to Laura)

I had two old man Logan x reader fics in my drafts but decided to connect them because it made more sense to me. This old man being domestic just does it for me Ughh

Pairing: oldman!Logan x fem!reader

Summary: Parenting comes with challenges Logan never thought he would have to face in his old age; like school drop offs, nosy teachers and career day disasters

Wordcount: 2.8k

Warnings/tags: english is not my first language, age-gap, established relationship, Logan 2017 ending never happened, domestic fluff, violence mentioned, Prisoners 2013 reference, it's just cute old man dad Logan please let me have this, !!!not proofread!!!

���☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Laura hated school. She had never gone to school before and she was fine, but after Logan and you had taken her under your wing, you put her in a school for her 'education'.

The only thing she needed to be educated in was survival. She hated sitting in a chair for hours, trying to keep still so she wouldn't get scolded. She hated the dumb questions teachers asked, their dumb faces while they got frustrated that the class didn't understand. And She hated math.

But most of all?

She hated that Logan had to pick her up every damn day. Not because of Logan himself or because she wanted to prove that she could walk home on her own, but because every time Logan stepped foot into the classroom to get her-

that one teacher wouldn’t leave him alone.

Her name was Miss Dover. She was pretty, blonde, and always smiling way too much when Logan arrived. She touched his arm, she laughed at things he didn’t mean to be funny.

And Laura?

Laura wanted to throw her backpack at her face. Or get her claws out, but Logan didn’t allow her

Logan already regretted agreeing to pick Laura up every day after the first time he had done so. Of course not because of Laura, but because of Miss Dover. Today was no different. The second he stepped onto the school grounds, surrounded by students who reminded him of the old times in the mansion, there she was.

“Mr. Howlett!” she called out to him in a too friendly manner, flipping her hair over her shoulder to show off. “Right on time, as always.” she smiled and to Logan, it looked like it hurt. He sighed. Here we go.

He only grunted in response, crossing his arms. Don’t engage. Keep it short. Get out.

Miss Dover, of course, ignored all of that. And she was in no way repelled because of Logans clear lack of interest in her. “You know” she started, biting her lip as she looked up at him, “I think it’s so sweet that you take the time to pick Laura up every day. A lot of dads just send a babysitter. I find that very admirable and...amazing”

Logan barely kept himself from rolling his eyes. “Well, she’s my kid.” he deadpanned. He was supposed to pick her up from school, so he did. It was the bare minimum, no need to make a fuss over something that was so self-evident.

Miss Dover beamed at him even after his discouraging answer. “That’s wonderful! A family man.” Logans eye twitched at that. He needed to get Laura and leave. Now.

Laura watched them from the steps of the school entrance, arms crossed over her chest, her pink glasses sitting on top of her head. She glanced at you, who stood beside her, smirking. Logan had begged you to come when he picked up Laura so he could prove to you how persistent and stubborn that one teacher was when it came to flirting with him.

“Should we save him?” you asked the girl beside you. For the record, you weren't jealous. Why would you be? You knew Logan loved you and didn't have eyes for anyone else, if anything, you were pretty amused by his misery. Laura shrugged at your question. “He deserves it.” you snorted a laugh, she had a point “Yeah, but we need him in one piece."

With a sigh, Laura slung her backpack over her shoulder, slipped down her sunglasses so they covered her eyes and marched towards Logan. Miss Dover was still going on about something, being awfully handsy while Logan was so obviously uncomfortable, when Laura reached them. She grabbed Logans sleeve, pulling at it. “Can we go now?” she asked Logan, paying no mind to her teacher. Miss Dovers eyes softened and she let out a coo “Aww. Looks like someone is eager to get home with Daddy” upon her words, Laura stared at her with an unreadable expression. Then, very clearly, very loudly, she said:

“He is married”

Miss Dover blinked. Logan groaned but was silently relieved. It wasn’t the way he thought Miss Dover would find out, but in the end he was glad. Laura pointed directly at you as you approached from the steps. “To her”

Miss Dovers smile dropped as she followed to where Laura pointed. You, meanwhile, finally stepped closer, grinning. “Hi” you greeted cheerfully with a wave, slipping your arm around Logans “I’m his wife” you confirmed with a nod. And judging by Miss Dovers expression, you knew she thought you didn't fit into the family, that you didn't even look like Lauras mom, that you looked way too young and you were overall not a good match in her opinion. You could tell she was about to gossip over this in the teachers lounge. But you couldn’t care less.

Logan exhaled in relief as he felt you settling beside him. Miss Dover turned red. Out of embarrassment or anger, you couldn't tell. Probably the latter. “Oh, I...I had no idea-" she stammered, averting eyecontact and taking a step back, her hand playing with the fabric of her skirt.

“Yeah” Laura said flatly. “Can we go now?”

Logan didn’t wait to answer her. He turned on his heel and walked away, practically dragging you and Laura with him. The three of you walked to his truck in silence. Logan ran a hand down his face as he threw Lauras backpack into the car. “Finally" he grunted as he sat down behind the steering wheel.

You laughed at him “She really doesn’t get the hint, huh?” you noted. Logan twisted the key, rubbing his temples while he drove out of the parking lot. “I swear, next time-”

“Next time” Laura interrupted from behind “you are sending her to pick me up”

Logan frowned, looking through the rear-view mirror at her “Why?”

Laura buckled her seatbelt “Because then she will know you are taken for real. She probably thinks this was a joke or something"

You laughed at that, leaning against Logan. “She’s right, you know. That woman looked like she wasn’t believing her ears when I said I was your wife. You said she was being persistent, I don’t think she will take this seriously” you chuckled, giving his rugged cheek a kiss. Logan sighed defeated "Yeah, yeah” he answered, putting a hand on your thigh while rounding a corner. “Maybe next time, you pick her up”

You grinned, laying your hand over his. He was a little tense. You knew why. He didn't know if you were jealous, maybe you were a little mad but didn't show it. "I'm not jealous, if you think that. Not at all"

Logan raised an eyebrow. Then he looked at you - really looked at you. At the way you fit so perfectly against him. At the way your eyes sparkled with mischief, teasing him. At the way your hand rested over his, like it belonged there. And when he turned his hand to grasp yours tightly, he was holding his heart in his palm. Yeah. You weren't jealous. Because he was yours. And you were his. And nothing was ever going to change that.

Not even when Laura stood in front of Logan a week later, her arms crossed, staring him down despite him clearly towering over her.

“You have to come”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do”

Logan sighed, rubbing his temples. They had been at this back and forth game for like 10 minutes now “Why?” he grumbled. “Because it’s career day” Laura answered flatly.

He gave her a look that said he cursed the way she was just as stubborn as him “Yeah? So?” he muttered lowly and shrugged. Laura huffed and rolled her eyes. “So” she said, already looking exhausted over the argument “everyone has to bring a parent to talk about their job”

Laura really wanted him to come. Mostly because she was always the black sheep in her class when it came to telling stories, showing emotions and just simply existing. She was different than the other kids, and after what happened to her, she had every right to be. The others picked on her more often than not and while she wanted to let her claws speak for her, Logan had strictly forbidden it. So all she could do was listen to them. It was draining. She just wanted to be normal for once.

Logan knew that, yet he scowled, picking up a can of beer from the fridge "Tell ‘em I’m dead.” he said between chugging down the bitter liquid.

You were sitting on the couch and as you heard their conversation, you couldn't help but snort.

Laura didn’t blink, unfazed “You have to come.”

Logan glared down at her, hating just how much she was like him. He was about to tell her to fuck off and go to her room, but he sighed “Kid, no one wants to hear me talk about drivin' a damn limo.”

Laura shrugged at that, turning on her heel. “Too bad.” she said. And just like that, Logan lost the argument.

And thats how Logan found himself sitting at the front of the classroom, arms crossed, scowl in full force. You stood at the back with a few other parents, your eyes fixated on him. It was fun, seeing him so annoyed. But it also warmed your heart- he sat next to Laura, sitting way taller than she was, his long legs barely fitting under the table. The two were bickering, poking each other back and forth before Laura leaned her head against his shoulder, his arm around her securely. He was it for you. Yes, you were married, but you'd marry him again in a heartbeat.

There were parents that had already gone before him. Firefighters, doctors, a lawyer. A police man sat down in his seat again after his presentation. And now it was Logans turn.

Great.

With a grunt, he stood up, slightly limping over to the blackboard. He could already feel the judgy stares of the other parents. Laura gave him a small thumbs up, and so did you.

Miss Dover, the teacher yes, that one, smiled at Logan “Alright, Mr. Howlett, why don’t you tell us what you do for a living?” she cheered.

Logan exhaled slowly.

"…I drive a limo.”

Silence.

Some of the kids blinked. A couple of parents exchanged unimpressed glances. Then one kid raised his hand. “Like… for famous people?” the young boy asked, looking a bit intimidated by Logans frown.

“Sometimes.” Logan grunted as an answer. Another kid raised her hand, bolder and more confident than her classmahe “What’s the coolest person you ever drove?”

Logan grimaced at her question, but what was he supposed to do? “A drunk guy who puked in my backseat” he replied, looking at his feet while silence spread through the room again. Miss Dover cleared her throat, the tension in the air was awkward “Oh! well, uhm..does your job have any…exciting parts?” she stuttered out, the eyes of the other parents resting on her as if to ask: why the hell did you allow him to come?

Logan stared at her, the question heavy in the room. Did she really want him to tell a bunch of ten year olds about the times he got into fistfights and gun battles with passengers?

“…Not really” he muttered.

From the back, you smiled. You knew exactly what was happening. Logan wasn’t embarrassed about his job, nor did he care about what these people thought. But he cared about Laura. And right now? He felt bad that her dad was a limo driver while other kids got to brag about firefighters and surgeons and stuff.

Your chest ached.

Because he didn’t get it. Laura didn’t care about any of that, she just wanted her dad.

Miss Dover clapped her hands, her cheeks red in slight embarrassement. “Well, let’s open the floor for more questions!” she welcomed the classroom.

Big mistake.

A mom from the third row, blonde, red lipstick, way too interested, raised her hand “So, Mr. Howlett” she started, smiling too much, “do you work long hours?” she nearly purred. Logan tensed a little, rubbing his beard “…I guess.”

Another mom, brunette, twirling her curls around her fingers in a flirty manner, leaned forward. “Must be tough coming home late all the time. Bet it gets lonely.”

You bit your lip, amused, but also a little sorry for the kids that had to witness their moms shamelessly thirst over another kids dad. Laura rolled her eyes and Logan scowled “I’m not lonely.”

The blonde mom giggled, biting her bottom lip “Yeah, I bet with me you wouldn't be” she purred. Jesus, what as up with these women??

Logans jaw clenched in annoyance. He didn't understand how these women could just full on flirt with him while their children were there. Besides that, he, Laura and you had arrived later than everyone else and he had kissed you before sitting down, surely they noticed that? Apparently not, not even the obvious ring on his finger seemed to catch their attention.

You, meanwhile, just waited. Because any second now-

“He’s married.” Laura deadpanned, her arms crossed, saving him yet again.

The brunette mom blinked “Oh” she mumbed, her face burning red. The blonde mom hesitated. "really..?”

Logan, already done with everything, just pointed at you in the back of the room. Every head turned and in any other situation, this would have you highly uncomfortable. But you just grinned. “Hi Ladies” you greeted them. You walked forward to the blackboard, smiling at the way their jealous stares bore into the back of your head. You could tell the women were fuming over the fact that you bagged such a handsome man, but Logan knew only you could truly appreciate him. "We should try and advertise our marriage" you giggled.

Logan grumbled, wrapping an arm around your waist protectively. You smirked up at him, fixing his loose tie “Maybe you should start to wear a sign.” you teased him even more. He rolled his eyes at you “Shut up" he mumbled, but his grip on you tightened. Because you were his. And he wanted to show that.

You didn't even wait for the other parents to have their turn at presenting their jobs. You just took Laura and went out of there, walking back to Logans truck. “That was hell.” he sighed, letting himself fall behind the wheel with a grunt.

You laughed as you closed your door from the passenger seat, slipping your hand into his “You survived"

“Barely.”

Laura climbed into the truck behind you two, buckling her seatbelt “Next time, I’m bringing her” she said, pointing at you. Logan frowned at that, the engine purring to life “What, so she can brag about…what? Painting? Making fun of me?” he grinned smugly, making you want to wipe that smirk off his face.

You returned the grin “I could have given them a whole presentation on how sexy my husband is.” you hummed, leaning in close to his face, your noses touching. Logan chuckled, the sound rich in his chest "Oh, yeah?” he muttered gravelly, leaning in to give you a deep, wet, noisy kiss.

Laura made a gagging noise.

You pulled back with a laugh and Logan turned towards the road as he started driving, a satisfied smile on his lips. You glanced at Laura in the backseat. “So?” you asked. “Were you embarrassed?

She blinked at your question, her brows furrowed, making her look so much like Logan “What?”

You gestured toward Logan next to you, then looked back at her “That your dad is a limo driver.” you stated simply, matter of factly. Lauras frown deepened, like the question itself was stupid. “No.” she said flatly.

Logan glanced at her through the rear view mirror, his brow cocked. "That right?” he asked her, feeling a soft smile creeping onto his lips. She shrugged, looking out the window. “You pick me up every day. You don’t talk too much. You don’t smell weird. You’re fine.”

Your heart swelled and you aww'ed at the two. "Great review, kid.” Logan huffed, but you knew he was feeling proud inside. Laura pulled a juice box from her bag and for a moment, the car was silent.

“Better than the other dads.”

Logan swore his heart just did a giddy flip “Yeah?” he asked, as if he had just heard her wrong. Your expression was soft as you looked at him, your hands curling around his.

Laura nodded wordlessly. And just like that, Logan realized it didn’t matter what he did for work, what he had done in the past. It didn’t define him entirely. Because Laura?

Laura was just happy he was her dad.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

idk how these career days work, I am not american and never had one, I don’t even know if they are that popular im sorry😭

I still have a few unfinished requests in store, i am so sorry everything is taking so long!

[aro-culture-is]

Aro culture is seeing the signs that your friend is in a toxic relationship but they refuse to acknowledge it when you tell them and say "we're in love, you wouldn't get it"

hey, something I've noticed is that people... don't know how to bring up signs of toxicity. and the thing is, the major "do not" is to directly call the relationship abusive/toxic, or the other(s) in it such, which is also the thing almost everyone I talk to says they did in your position.

quoting from a New York state gov site about domestic violence:

Here are some examples of how you can Start the Conversation: - “I noticed that sometimes [insert partner’s name] does this [insert concerning tactic that you’ve seen]. Does that happen a lot? How does that make you feel?” - “I’m concerned about your safety. Is it okay if we talk about it?” - “I’m so glad you told me about [insert disclosure of abuse]. How can I help or support you? What do you need?” - “I noticed lately that you’ve been [insert survivor’s behavior like “getting hurt a lot lately” or “not going out as much”]. Is everything okay? If you ever want to talk about it, I’m here for you.” - “I know this can be really hard to talk about. I promise I believe you and won’t judge any of your choices or experiences. I care about you and just want you to be safe.” - “I recently read/watched/heard [insert book, article, movie, podcast about domestic violence]. Have you read/seen/heard it? What do you think?”

These are all adaptable to toxic relationships, high control groups like cults, and generally, someone experiencing distress. For example,

"I've noticed that sometimes [person/group/work] does [concerning tactic, addressed as factually as possible. ie, talking over you, making jokes you don't seem to enjoy, grabbing you, etc, NOT 'being a bitch']. Does that happen a lot? How do you feel about it?

Then, DO NOT say how you feel about it without letting them speak! Don't launch into "I saw them do it 8 times today, and I think you're ignoring it because you think you love them, and that's bad!" Let them tell you what they notice, do not blame them for staying, and do not call the situation bad until they do!

If they say, "oh, I don't think it's that bad/that frequent.", you don't have to agree, but you could say, "I thought it happened a few times today, but if you aren't worried, I'll try not to push. Just know you can always talk to me if it does change."

If you DO push too far, and that happens, be careful. The main problems from that are 1) they feel like you're judging them, so they stop engaging with you. 2) they tell the abusive group, who WILL try to stop them from contact with you, 3) this actually pushes them FURTHER into the toxic situation, because now someone who cares is inaccessible. Dial it back.

"I'm sorry I came across so strong. I shouldn't have been so accusatory, I was worried and got carried away. You can always talk to me if things change, but I shouldn't have gone about it like that even if it were that bad."

Good luck.

[fluff-lover]

Past Future | Logan x fem!Reader

Summary: Logan time travels and finds out his future self is married... to you.

Note: this is in a way part of my Healing Touch fic, where Reader is called "Angel", is a mutant and has healing powers. But can be read without reading the whole fic.

Also, I don't think the timelines and plot makes much sense, but this came to me one night and I just needed to write it!

In a desperate attempt to stop the sentinels, Charles and Logan offer to travel into the future to find out how (and if) the X-Men won the war, only to find out that mutants are almost extinct there. Year is 2030 and their only lead takes them to the Logan from the future: a more rugged, worn down Wolverine who hung the claws a year ago, after Charles died.

“I don’t go by Logan anymore.” He told them. “Here I’m James.”

It took a lot of persuasion to make James take them home and help them. James wanted to leave the past in the past, but seeing Chuck again, even if it was a younger version, pulled some strings in his heart.

That’s how they found themselves standing outside Jame’s home: a little cabin in the woods, with lovely flowers in the front yard, a wooden fence, a nice porch… 

Logan, the one from the past, felt like this was a completely parallel universe instead of his own in the future. The man standing in front of him was completely different from him.

“Listen, I’m very protective of my home.” James said. “So here are some ground rules: Don’t go sneaking around, don’t touch anything…” He said looking from Charles to Logan, then back to Charles. “Don’t feed the dog.” And finally he turned to Logan. “And don’t hit on my wife.” he said in a warning tone.

“You have a dog?��� Charles asked.

“You have a wife?!” Logan added in disbelief.

They walked in and found a cozy home, a lit fireplace, and the smell of homemade food filling in the air.

“Shoes.” James said before taking his shoes off.

Charles and Logan exchanged a look before taking their shoes off too.

Oh, James was whipped!

A white and brown border collie rushed to James and he bent down to greet her.

“Hi Whiskey, have you been a good girl today?” He asked the dog while patting her. She wiggled her tail and licked his hand. “Yeah you were… always such a good girl.”

Logan watched closely, he couldn’t imagine ever getting a dog. 

James straightened with a groan and walked further into the home.

“Sweetheart?” He called out.

You walked out of the kitchen to greet him and Logan’s breath hitched.

You were SO beautiful, breathtaking. Now he understood Jame’s warning. His younger self would definitely try to make some moves on such a pretty thing.

Logan watched in disbelief as you cupped your husband’s face and kissed his lips oh so sweetly while James wrapped an arm around your waist. Logan wondered how on Earth he would end up with such a loving, beautiful partner. It was clear your tenderness rubbed off on James, seeing him being all lovey dovey with you.

James quickly introduced them and you couldn’t help but look at Logan in wonder. He looked just like your husband, just younger. But he wasn’t the same man. You and Logan went through so much together: losing the other mutants, helping Charles, finding Laura, only for Charles to pass away in a horrific way… No, your James was unique, and you loved him just the way he was.

Charles was a whole different story…

“That’s… a head full of hair…” You half joked. James snorted and kissed your temple.

Your life with James was simple and very domestic. You made dinner in the kitchen while he set the table. Logan and Charles tried to take everything in as this wasn’t the future they expected.

“Alright, dinner is ready!” you said as you placed the food on the table.

“I’ll get Laura.” James said before going upstairs.

“Who’s Laura?” Charles asked.

“She’s James’ kid.” You said as you sat down. Logan opened his eyes so widely you thought they would pop out of his skull. “It’s complicated, technically she’s his clone, but after we found out about her we decided to keep her and raise her as our own.”

Logan watched James arrive downstairs followed by a little girl. There was some resemblance, especially in her frown. She didn’t look happy to have visitors.

When Laura spotted Logan, she quickly hid behind James’ legs. He smiled gently at her and patted her head.

“It’s alright kiddo, he’s good. Not a clone.” He explained while guiding her to her chair next to you. You smiled sweetly and placed a plate of food in front of her.

Once you were all sat at the table Charles and Logan explained the situation and asked a ton of questions about the future. With a lot of patience James told them everything, from how to defeat the sentinels to how you two ended up here. He told them about Charle’s seizures and how it killed every other mutant except for the two of you. 

You told them about your healing powers and your days at the School as “Angel”. 

…About your marriage…

…About finding Laura…

About Charles passing away.

At one point you turned to Charles with glassy eyes.

“I’m so sorry I couldn’t save you. I used my healing powers with you every chance I got but…” You shook your head and sighed. “I think you were so tired you just gave up. And then when you were attacked by X-24 I got to you too late, you had already passed away…” you looked away in shame. James lifted your hand and kissed it.

“You did everything you could… We all did.” James said before turning to the others. “She’s constantly healing me too, otherwise I would be dead by now.”

“Healing from what? I thought you… we…” Logan cleared his throat, not knowing how to address James. “What about the enhanced healing power?”

“I still got it, but the adamantium in my bones is slowly poisoning me.” He then looked at you lovingly. “My little angel keeps it from taking me out entirely.”

“What’s adamantium?” Charles asked.

“A nearly indestructible metal that was injected inside me to make me stronger.” With that James unleashed his claws and the other men saw their reflection on the shiny material.

“What the fuck…?” Logan mumbled.

“How did that happen?” Charles asked.

“That’s another long story…” James sighed.

“And it’s been a long night, I’ll tuck Laura in.” You said getting up. “Come on sweetheart, it’s bedtime.” 

Laura got up and before following you upstairs she stopped to hug James goodnight. It took a while for James and Laura to form this father-daughter bond, but you knew they loved each other and every day they learned more and more to show their affection. It was slow progress but it was worth it.

“Good night, kiddo.” James smiled softly and watched the two of you walk upstairs. Logan was still trying to wrap this whole thing around his head. James turned to him and tilted his head towards the door. “Care for a drink?”

James, Logan and Charles sat down on the porch, each one of them with a glass of bourbon. The sky was clear and the stars shone bright. It was quiet and nice, the only light in the porch coming from a little lamp hanging from the roof.

Charles and James discussed plans of action against the sentinels and how to get reinforcements, but Logan stayed quiet mostly. He had so many questions, the most important one being what did he do to deserve such a happy, tranquil life?

Whiskey, the dog, laid next to James on the floor with her head resting on her master’s foot.

“So this is your life now, uh?” Logan suddenly said, interrupting Charles and James’ talk. “You go to work, come home to a wife and kid, have dinner, sit on the porch with a drink and a cigar…”

James arched an eyebrow.

“Pretty much, yeah.” He said before taking a drag.

“You forgot the dog.” Charles added and Logan shot him a glare.

“Hard to believe, no?” James asked him. Logan didn’t know what to say, but yes, he was having a hard time believing this.

“It's just so… peaceful.” he mumbled.

James hummed and took a sip of his drink.

“It is, and so far away from all the violence I once knew. For the longest time I didn’t believe I deserved it. That I didn’t deserve HER.” It was clear he was talking about you. “But each morning I wake up next to her and she reassures me this is where I belong.” He smiled, thinking about the quiet mornings, the whispers under the covers, the light kisses on his face.

“Are you happy?” Charles asked softly, wanting to believe his friend got a somewhat happy ending while the rest of the world went to shit.

James hummed again and nodded his head.

“Happier than I recall ever being.”

By the time they went back inside you were almost done washing the dishes. James stood next to you and started drying them, a radio playing old tunes in a corner.

While Logan and Charles discussed strategies, Logan caught a glimpse of you and James slow dancing in the kitchen. It was a heart pulling scene: your head resting against James’ chest, Paul Anka’s voice sounding in the background. 

It looked so simple, just a common married couple slow dancing in the kitchen late at night, a domestic yet sweet tint to it. Yet to Logan it looked like an impossible dream of something he never thought he could get.

“You’ll get there.” He heard Charles whisper and his face went red as he realized he was caught staring.

“Uh?”

Charles looked at the couple and back at him.

“You’ll meet her, fall in love and marry her. Don’t worry, this will happen to you.”

Logan cleared his throat awkwardly.

“It won’t if we change the future.”

“You won’t remember any of this when you get back to your own time. But I will, and I’ll make sure you meet her.” Charles promised.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” He said dismissively. “That’s not what we’re here for. Keep your head in the mission.”

Charles simply smiled.

Logan was whipped too…

Tags:

@starsmoonn

@insanesosciopath

@rebloggingfanfictioninthechaos

@ayamenimthiriel

@charmingballoon

@espressopatronum454

@uncertified-doc

@ltristessedureratoujours

@all-for-kpop

@readerofwords616

@tezooks

@tomhockstetter7-111

@meetmypointlessaddiction

@mostly-marvel-musings

@jules-and-gemss@reidsworld

[madebycloud]

not a lot, just forever

jinx/powder x reader — 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

summary: the love between parent and child is truly not just a lot… but it's forever. (requested by anon). warnings/themes: fluff & slight angst, found family, domestic, parents au, vulnerability, wife!jinx words: 1.6k notes: happy mother's day :)

The day hasn't been going great.

Apparently Isha got into a bit of trouble today at school while she was playing with the other kids.

You're both sitting on the couch, Jinx on one end, and you on the opposite.

“Should we give her a lecture?” you suggest. “Let her know what she did was wrong?”

Jinx scoffs at your suggestion. “A lecture from both of us? you're really gonna make her feel guilty just for being a kid and screwing up?”

“I don't know!” you retort. “What do you suggest we do, then? just let it slide? it wasn't a minor thing she did. She could have seriously injured one of those kids.”

“It's... not that bad.”

“Not that...not that bad?” you repeat and stare at your wife in disbelief. “Have you lost your mind? she got suspended for two weeks! I don't understand why you're being so...so...lenient.”

“I'm lenient?” she says. “I just don't think a lecture is going to be of any use, especially if she doesn't think she did anything wrong.”

“She doesn't think she did anything wrong,” you say slowly. “Because you have been spoiling her rotten.”

“So she has a few special privileges.”

“A few? you're literally spoiling her, Jinx. She's turning more and more disobedient each day! You're just allowing her to do whatever she wants!”

Jinx glares at you. “So what? I'm letting her have her fun, unlike those uptight school teachers that get mad because a ten-year-old girl got a little too rough on the playground.”

You groan. “You need to stop feeding this behavior. This kind of thing would never have happened if-”

“-Oh, here we go,” she interrupts, rolling her eyes.

“I was going to say, ‘if we had just talked to her like normal parents’” you continue. “No one is calling you a bad mother. But you do realize that you need to set boundaries and actually tell her no once in a while.”

“Boundaries?” she repeats, scoffing. “You don't think I know how to set boundaries?”

“I just don't think you know the difference between being a parent and being a glorified-”

“I swear, if you continue with that sentence-”

“-Can you just stop?” you ask. “Can you, for one moment, just quit arguing and really listen? you realize that we're talking about Isha, right?”

She doesn't reply and simply averts her gaze, sulking.

You soften your tone, hoping that maybe this time, she'll actually listen and understand. “I'm not attacking you, Jinx. Isha was suspended. Suspended. Because instead of just playing a normal game, she decided that roughhousing was the way to go. And now that she's here, it hasn't fazed her at all-”

“I know that.“

“Then why do you still act like she did nothing wrong? if you act like it's not a big deal to her, then she's going to do it again.”

“...I know.”

You see her body slumping into the couch cushion. “You know, you're a good mother. I really think you are. But sometimes.... you let her get away with a lot.”

Jinx avoids eye contact but nods, her hand reaches to her shoulder and she picks at a loose thread on her shirt.

“I'm not talking about the times when she's staying up too late or she doesn't want to finish her vegetables. I'm talking about the fact that she's acting out in school,” you see her glance at you before looking away again, “she's doing things that kids her age really shouldn't be doing.”

“I'm...” she mumbles before burying her face in her hands. “I have no idea how to do this.”

That statement stuns you silent.

She admitted it.

Not as a joke. No sarcasm, no snark, just her...actually realizing how out of control things have gotten.

With all the courage you can muster, you stand up and kneel in front of her. You slowly reach out, take her hands into yours, gently pull them away from her face, and then kiss both her hands.

You feel her body tense at your first touch, and it's a good thing that she's refusing to look at you too because you can't look at her either. 

You're scared of looking into her eyes and seeing hatred or disgust... because what if this is the last straw, and she's just done?

But at the same time, you want to know, you need to know.

You take a risk, slowly letting your gaze travel from her knuckles to her wrist, to her arms, to her shoulders, to her collar, and then finally you look up.

And instead of the rage that you were expecting, you immediately get a jolt in your chest.

She's crying.

A few lone tears are making their way down her cheeks, but her eyes are red, and there's an undeniable quiver to that bottom lip.

She... she's looking at you with those eyes, and you can tell, you can just tell, that Jinx is holding herself back from looking away. She's holding that little thread of composure together as fiercely as that fraying thread on her shirt.

And all of your words, every thought, and all of the frustration you may have had, it's all gone.

You can't feel angry at her, seeing those tears in her eyes. If anything, you feel angry at yourself. For making her cry, for making her upset.

“Jinx-” you start, but any other words you had are swallowed down when you realize that saying her name is enough to make her eyes leak even more.

“...I'm... I'm sorry, I... I just-” she mumbles, choking back a sob, “I just.... I was scared. I still am. I...I don't know what I'm doing... I....I really.... really don't.”

“Don't apologize. That's not what I want,” you say. “This... parenting thing...it's confusing. For both of us. It's not like we can ask anyone for advice...”

“I just.. I wanted to be better than him,” she whispers. “I just want to do the right thing. I...I want to be a good mother.”

You sigh and let go of her hands, turning to sit next to her on the couch and pulling her into a hug. She drops all of her walls, and she clings to you, burying her face in the crook of your neck.

“... I'm.... I'm trying. I'm really, really f-f-fucking trying...”

“We're trying,” you repeat, your hands rubbing circles gently along her back. “We are. We're trying our best, we really are… we're both trying to do the best thing for her. We're both scared of making mistakes.”

She doesn't respond vocally, but you do feel her nodding.

“We just... we just need to be honest,” you continue. “We need to be honest with each other, and... and we need to be honest with Isha.”

“I'm sorry…” 

“Please stop that. Stop saying sorry. I know you just want to spoil her, to give her the world. You... you just have trouble saying no... and setting boundaries. We both do.”

“We suck at being adults and we suck at being parents.”

“We're both a little childish ourselves,” you say and you feel her nodding again, “and our poor kid is growing up with us, what a terrifying thought.”

She pouts. “... yeah,” she mumbles.

“Yeah,” you echo. “We both need to work on that,” you say, bringing a hand up to wipe the last tears away from her cheek. “You give her the whole moon, and I… I hold her hand and remind her that her feet are still on the ground.”

She snorts at that and even lets out a small laugh through her tears.

“We're not perfect,” you go on. “We're far from it. We've both got things to work on. There's no... there's no rulebook. No manual to follow. No way to... no way to do this whole ‘parenting’ thing except for trial and error. We're going to mess up. It's inevitable. We need to mess up, because this is new.”

Jinx's grip on you tightens even more.

“We will mess up. We will fight. We will argue, but... but we will never give up. We will never stop trying to do what is best for her. For Isha.”

“For our daughter,” she adds.

Your heart almost melts after hearing those words.

“For our daughter.”

Just then, you hear the sound of a door opening to your side. Both your heads turn, and you see Isha standing in the doorway, holding her blue stuffed bunny.

“Oh, hey sweetie,” you say, as soon as you see Isha come into view “come.”

She slowly walks towards you, never letting go of her beloved bunny. She climbs into your lap along with Jinx, sandwiching herself between you two.

Jinx reaches out to hold her, while you pull up her bunny to brush a few loose strands of hair out of her face. She leans into Jinx, and you can see Jinx's expression soften considerably.

“Hey...” Jinx says, and in spite of her watery eyes, she offers a smile to the little girl.

“We'll talk to her later,” you tell Jinx. “But for now…” let this moment remain unbroken.

She nods and ruffles Isha's hair, drawing a giggle from her.

Isha then cuddles up in your combined arms. 

Jinx gives you a look. A look that you can't quite understand the meaning of at first. But then you see the corners of her lips turn up, just enough for you to catch a ghost of a smile.

She looks... content. Like this is how it's supposed to be.

A family.

You're a family.

You're a family, and you're going to stay that way, come hell or high water.

You don't need a mansion. You don't need riches or jewels. You don't need fame or glory.

You're happy with just being here, with them.

You will never, ever, ask for anything more. Because this is enough.

All you want is for this to last.

Not a lot, just forever.

[fuddaround]

CLINGY › juju watkins x fem!reader

summary : while hanging out with juju’s team she becomes extra clingy and doesn’t know how to not be touching you.

warnings : literally just fluff

word count : 4.2k

req

kay’s notes : i miss her💔 im sorry this took so long 🙁

juju’s been cleaning since noon.

playlist blasting, mop in one hand, swiffer in the other like she’s going to war with dust bunnies.

your hoodie’s drowning her frame, sleeves covering her hands as she moves around the apartment like it’s the day before an away game day.

she keeps tugging it over her fingers, lifting it to sniff the collar every so often like she’s trying to inhale you straight into her lungs.

her hair’s pulled back into her usual bun, curls bouncing as she bops around the kitchen.

she sways side to side while wiping down the counters, humming to the beat, all domestic and in her bubble.

every five minutes she pauses to glance at her phone, checking the time. then your name. then the groupchat.

the girls are supposed to come by around seven, and juju’s acting like lebron is coming over. she fluffed the couch pillows four times already and threatened to fight deuce any time he gets too close to them.

she set out snacks in bowls like a mom hosting book club. hot cheetos, gummy worms, fruit roll-ups, and those little frosted animal cookies you like.

you called her “extra” last night and she deadass took it as a compliment, “it’s not being extra if you love people,” she said, all smug.

and she does love you.

loudly. proudly.

especially today.

she tugs the sleeves of your hoodie over her hands again and exhales, standing in the middle of the living room like she’s about to present a thesis.

everything looks perfect. but something’s missing.

you.

so she grabs her phone, scrolls to your name, and sends three messages back to back.

then she flops onto the couch dramatically, hoodie sleeves covering her face. she’s not moving again until she hears a knock on the door.

the first knock on the door comes around 6:48.

juju pretends she doesn’t hear it, still curled into a dramatic pile of hoodie and couch. but then another knock, this time followed by rian’s voice—loud, dramatic, already clowning from the hallway.

“damn, y’all see how she ignoring us already? new era juju.”

juju rolls her eyes but drags herself up, hoodie still half over her face like a gremlin. she opens the door with one hand and a sigh, stepping aside so they can all pour in.

rian’s first through the door, grinning like she owns the place.

kayleigh and brooklyn follow right after, all giggles and inside jokes.

and then there’s otto—last as always, hoodie halfway off her shoulder, eyes already on juju like she’s reading a diary.

“finally,” rian groans, flopping onto the couch like she pays rent. “i was about to file a missing persons report.”

“you knocked for like five seconds,” juju mutters, kicking the door shut behind them.

“five seconds too long,” kayleigh says, grabbing a capri sun from the snack table juju spent an hour arranging. “ooh, you got the wild cherry ones. aw you really know me.”

juju shrugs. “figured y’all would drink them like usual.”

“figured your girl would be here by now,” rian says with a smirk, pulling a throw pillow into her lap.

juju’s entire face twitches. blink and you’ll miss it, but otto doesn’t blink.

she watches juju like a hawk. like a best friend who knows every tiny tell. like someone who’s seen her spend ten minutes trying to pick a message to send you, only to delete it and just say “hey :)” instead.

“she’s on the way,” juju says, trying to sound chill. like she wasn’t literally sprawled on the floor ten minutes ago texting “u okay?” for the third time.

brooklyn raises a brow. “so why you wearing her hoodie then?”

“i was cold?”

“you got heat. we all know you keep it on 75 like a grandma.”

juju glares but says nothing. she just tightens the sleeves over her hands again and tries to act normal.

she plops down on the floor, back against the couch, one knee bouncing.

the girls are already making themselves at home—snacking, flipping through the streaming apps, arguing over which movie to put on.

“nothing scary,” kayleigh says. “i’m not tryna pee myself in juju’s living room.”

“no romance either,” rian adds with a look directly at juju. “some of us are single and unbothered. we don’t need to see y’all staring into each other’s souls.”

juju throws a gummy worm at her. “you’re so annoying.”

“and you’re in love,” rian sings, catching the worm and popping it in her mouth. “look at you, all squirmy and shit.”

“i’m not squirmy,” juju lies. total lie. she’s practically vibrating.

otto climbs over the couch and lands next to her with a soft thud, her body warm against juju’s side. she doesn’t say anything at first, just rests her chin on juju’s shoulder.

“you good?” she murmurs, quiet enough for only juju to hear.

juju leans into her. “yeah. i just…”

“you miss her.”

juju nods.

otto smiles. “she’s literally ten minutes away.”

“ten minutes is a long time when you’re in love and dramatic,” juju whispers back.

“we know”

the opening credits to white chicks start playing and everyone cheers like it’s the first time they’ve ever seen it. brooklyn’s already quoting the lines before the characters even speak while kayleigh’s already halfway through her second capri sun.

juju tries to join in. she laughs when she’s supposed to. throws jabs back when rian teases her again. but india’s watching the whole time, clocking every time juju glances at the door.

“what if she changed her mind?” juju mumbles during the part where the twins first show up in disguise.

otto gives her a look. “be serious.”

juju shrugs, arms folded tight across your hoodie. “i’m just saying…”

“you’re not saying anything real right now.”

juju pouts. “okay therapist.”

“well no, just your best friend who watched you fall in love when you call yourself nonchalant.”

she says it so casually that juju actually stops breathing for a second. because it really was kind of like that. like a highlight reel that india studied. like every time you smiled at her, the world paused for just a beat too long.

“you’re in it deep,” otto adds, bumping her shoulder against juju’s. “like deep deep. like, if-she-broke-up-with-you-you’d-move-to-the-woods deep.”

juju laughs, loud and sharp. “no, i’d just cry for like a year.”

“same thing.”

“whatever.”

“you wore her hoodie, ju.”

“i like it.”

“you sniffed it earlier.”

“mind your business.”

“you sniffed it, juju. like a love-sick golden retriever who was left at home.”

juju groans and drops her head into otto’s lap, mumbling curses into the fabric. otto just laughs and pets her hair.

“i think it’s sweet,” kayleigh calls out from across the room.

“yeah me too,” brooklyn says. “let the girl be in love.”

“oh, she in it,” rian grins, pointing at juju’s curled-up form. “she’s literally the most clingy person when her girl comes into play.”

“i’m not clingy,” juju protests weakly, face still buried in otto’s hoodie.

“girl, you asked me if your breath smelled good before she came over,” otto says.

juju lifts her head. “because gum doesn’t always work—”

“you bought three candles just ‘cause she said she liked the vanilla one.”

“it’s called setting the tone—”

“you shaved your legs. and you’re wearing sweatpants.”

“you’re a traitor.”

“i’m your best friend.”

the girls are all cracking up now, the whole room filled with laughter and warm energy and the smell of popcorn and gummy candy.

but juju’s face is pink and her eyes keep darting to the door again.

it’s 7:06. you’re not even that late. but to juju, every minute feels like forever.

so she grabs her phone again, types out a text. stares at it. deletes it. types it again.

otto sees it from the side and gently takes the phone out of her hand, “she’s coming,” she says softly. “you know she is.”

juju nods, chewing her lip. then she hears it.

another knock.

and this time, she doesn’t play it cool.

doesn’t wait. doesn’t even try to act like she’s not absolutely losing it inside.

she shoots up off the floor like someone lit a fire under her and bolts for the door, almost tripping over rian’s leg.

the girls break into a fit behind her.

“there she goes!”

“run, juju, run!”

“act normal, damn!”

“she’s already smiling, look at her—damn simp.”

juju’s smiling so wide it hurts and she hasn’t even opened the door yet.

juju yanks the door open like she’s been held underwater and finally got to breathe.

and there you are.

standing in her doorway all soft and glowing, skin still dewy, hair slicked back, hoodie sleeves pushed up just enough to show the bracelets she made you. you smell like vanilla and coconut and whatever body wash you stole out of juju’s shower.

juju freezes for a second.

her brain bluescreens.

then—

“hi, baby,” you say, all gentle and sweet like you’re saying a prayer instead of a greeting.

juju practically melts. she’s on you before you can even take a full step in, arms around your waist, nose buried in your neck like she’s trying to disappear into your skin.

“you’re late,” she mumbles, voice muffled.

“was doin’ an everything shower,” you say, rubbing her back. “you know the drill. shaved, exfoliated, deep conditioned, the whole routine.”

“took you eighty-five years,” she pouts, tightening her grip.

“took me two hours.”

“that’s eighty-five juju years.”

you laugh and kiss the top of her head, and that’s when the peanut gallery from the living room loses their minds.

“there she is, finally.”

“miss exfoliated and moisturized for ju.”

“thank you for showing up, juju needs her emotional support girlfriend. she was spiraling without you.”

juju turns her head but doesn’t move from your chest. she’s still wrapped around you like a backpack.

“don’t listen to them,” she grumbles.

“they’re not wrong,” otto calls out, not even looking up from the couch. “she made me check her breath like five times.”

you giggle and run your fingers up and down on juju’s back.

“my dramatic little baby,” you coo, rocking her side to side.

“don’t call me that in front of them,” she mumbles—but she’s nuzzling you now. completely unbothered.

“what? ‘my dramatic little baby’?” you repeat, louder.

the girls explode.

brooklyn wheezes into a throw pillow, kayleigh’s about to cry laughing, rian’s recording on her phone, and otto’s just shaking her head with the most told you so expression known to man.

juju groans into your neck. “i hate everybody.”

you kiss her cheek. “no you don’t.”

“fine. i hate everybody except you.”

“better.”

she finally lets you go just enough to pull you into the apartment, shutting the door with one hand while still clinging to you like you might vanish. you barely make it three steps before she pulls you right back into her arms.

“i missed you,” she whispers.

“i missed you more,” you say, brushing your nose against hers.

she scrunches her face and shakes her head, “not possible.”

“yes possible.”

“no one in the world has missed another person as hard as i missed you in the last hour.”

“you’re so dramatic baby.”

“you literally made me like this.”

the girls are still watching, still commenting, but juju’s tuned them all out now. it’s just you. your face. your hands on her waist. your lips brushing against hers in the tiniest, sweetest hello.

you tilt your head. “can i go sit down or you gonna keep me hostage right here?”

“you’re mine. i’m keeping you.”

“forever?”

“duh.”

you laugh and tap her nose. “c’mon, clingy girl. let’s go.”

you both walk over to the couch, hand in hand, and juju plops down first before immediately tugging you into her lap. she wraps her arms around your waist and rests her chin on your shoulder like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“you not even gonna say hi to us?” rian teases.

“hi rian,” you call without looking away from juju. “love the bun.”

“i do look cute today, thank you.”

juju buries her face in your neck again. “you smell so good.”

“i told you. everything shower. that exfoliating glove did work.”

“mmm. gonna use it next time i’m over.”

“baby, you already got a toothbrush, bonnet, pairs of socks at my place, and so many outfits. at this point, just bring another drawer.”

“say less.”

brooklyn fake-gags from the other couch cushion. “they’re so in love it’s sickening.”

“like a romcom but with jump shots,” kayleigh adds.

“like a romcom where the main character almost cried ‘cause her girl was ten minutes late,” otto corrects.

juju flips her off without even lifting her head. “snitches get stitches.”

“i’m just saying,” otto shrugs. “you were about thirty seconds away from throwing on sade and staring out the window.”

you giggle and kiss juju’s temple, “don’t worry, baby. i’ll set a timer next time. i’ll exfoliate faster.”

“nah,” juju mumbles. “take your time. just start earlier.”

“you could’ve joined me,” you say with a soft smirk.

her whole face lifts up from your neck. “say less.”

the team collectively groans in unison.

“keep it PG!” rian yells.

“we’re literally watching white chicks, not euphoria,” kayleigh chimes in.

you laugh and press your forehead to juju’s. she looks at you like you hung the moon. like you invented air. like she’s never gonna stop staring.

“you good now?” you whisper.

“better than good,” she whispers back. “i’m yours again.”

“you’re always mine.”

“yeah but now i can see you.”

you brush your thumb over her cheek and smile, “love you.”

she exhales, so soft you barely hear it, “love you more.”

“not possible.”

“don’t start this again.”

you giggle, kiss her, and she just melts right there on the couch, arms wrapped tight around your waist, hoodie sleeves pushed up, legs tangled with yours like she’s trying to fuse you together.

“we still watching this movie?” brooklyn asks.

“yeah,” otto answers. “juju’s too busy cuddling to care, but the rest of us are watching.”

you and juju settle in as the scene picks up again, her fingers tracing little circles into your side.

she keeps whispering things in your ear—soft, silly things like “you’re so pretty” and “i’m never letting you go” and “please never exfoliate without me again.”

the girls keep teasing, but it fades into background noise. the lights are low, the snacks are half-eaten, and juju’s heartbeat is slow and steady against you.

and she’s smiling again. because you’re here. finally.

and for juju, that’s all it ever takes to feel whole.

the room is quiet except for tangled playing softly in the background. lanterns floating on screen, rapunzel swaying in flynn’s arms. the scene’s all golden light and soft music.

the floor’s a mess of limbs and blankets.

rian is fast asleep beside the couch, her hand loosely tangled with yours. she must’ve grabbed it mid-yawn or mid-laugh, but now her fingers are laced through yours like she paid rent to be there.

juju notices before you do.

and she’s not having it.

you feel her shift in your lap—just the tiniest squirm—and then hear her quiet, raspy voice, “um why is she holding your hand.”

you blink. “what?”

“rian.” she whispers, eyes still mostly closed, curls smushed into your hoodie. “she’s holding your hand. what is going on.”

you smile down at her, brushing her hair back from her face, “she just knocked out like that, baby. we were talking. she must’ve grabbed it on the way to dreamland.”

juju makes a noise. somewhere between a scoff and a pout. deuce lifts his head slightly, then settles again, unimpressed.

“do you want me to move my hand?”

juju doesn’t answer right away. she just tightens her arms around your waist and nuzzles further into your chest.

“ yes,” she mumbles finally.

you laugh, real soft, and carefully slide your hand free from rian’s without waking her.

you turn and rest it back on juju’s back, rubbing slow circles over her hoodie.

“better?”

“mhm.”

“you know you’re insane, right?”

“you love it,” she mumbles, kissing your collarbone.

“you’re just being so dramatic right now.”

“i’m not dramatic. i’m territorial.”

“oh, is that what we’re calling it now?”

juju pulls back slightly so she can look up at you. her eyes are heavy, half-closed, but still sharp enough to give you a full baby-faced glare.

“you’re mine,” she whispers, lips brushing your chin. “not rian’s. not anyone else’s. mine.”

“always yours,” you whisper right back.

“so if anyone’s holding your hand while you’re watching disney movies, it better be me.”a

“yes ma’am.”

she smirks. “there we go.”

you snort and lean in, kissing her softly—barely a brush of lips, more air than anything, but she exhales like it fed her soul.

deuce lets out a little huff and shifts in juju’s arms. he’s perfectly squished between you two, warm and content and possibly more spoiled than both of you combined.

“he’s such a traitor,” juju mumbles, petting his ears. “he was mine first.”

“you said that about me five minutes ago.”

“because it’s true. i had you both first. now you’re bffs without me.”

“you’re literally in my lap.”

“and he’s in my arms. i just want everyone to know whose we are.”

you giggle and kiss her temple, “you’re so clingy right now and make no sense.”

“do you want me to be quiet?”

“no, i love you like this.”

she grins sleepily, “you baby me so good.”

“you make it easy.”

she hums again and squeezes you tighter, “you smell like the expensive body wash.”

“i used the expensive body wash. you said you like when i smell like a cupcake.”

“i wanna eat you.”

you laugh too loud, and kayleigh stirs slightly from the floor.

“shhh,” you whisper, pulling the blanket up a little higher around the both of you. “you’re gonna wake them up.”

“so what,” juju mumbles. “wanna tell the whole room i love you.”

you raise an eyebrow. “you said not to ruin your rep.”

“they already know. otto’s been giving me the look all night.”

“what look?”

“the ‘damn, juju’s whipped’ look.”

you glance at otto, who’s dozing with one headphone in, arm slung across a pillow. she’s not even pretending to be part of the conversation anymore.

“baby,” you whisper, “you are whipped.”

juju presses a dramatic hand to her chest. “and proud.”

you kiss her cheek, then her jaw, then the soft skin just beneath her ear.

she wiggles a little. “mmm, that tickles.”

“good.”

“you tryna put me to sleep?”

“trying to get you to relax.”

“i am relaxed. ive never been so relaxed.”

“or clingy.”

“same thing.”

deuce yawns. it’s big and dramatic and almost human.

“he wants to be the little spoon,” juju says, readjusting him gently.

“thought you were the little spoon?”

“no, i’m the medium spoon. and he’s the little spoon.”

you grin. “what does that make me?”

“the pot i’m tryna keep all to myself.”

you stare at her. “that didn’t even make sense.”

“shhhh. cuddle me.”

you do exactly that—tucking her tighter into your chest, brushing her hair back again, letting your fingers trail down her spine like you’re playing a lullaby.

her breathing slows even more. deuce wiggles, sighs, and gives in to sleep again.

the song on the tv changes. the lantern scene is fading.

and juju, just barely awake, whispers—“don’t let anyone else hold your hand, okay?”

“never,” you whisper back. “just you, baby.”

“’kay,” she sighs. “love you.”

“love you most.”

you wake up to sunshine slicing through the blinds and juju practically wrapped around you like a weighted blanket.

her arm’s across your stomach, her leg’s thrown over yours. her face is buried in your neck and her grip is tight like she’s afraid you’ll vanish if she loosens it even an inch.

you wiggle a little.

nothing.

try again.

nope.

“baby,” you whisper, gently brushing her curls off your cheek. “i gotta pee.”

juju makes a low groan, somewhere between a dying animal and a dramatic soap opera star.

“no you don’t,” she mumbles, voice muffled by your collarbone.

“juju, i literally do. like literally.”

“hold it.”

“i’m not holding it.”

“then pee right here, i dare you.”

“what’s wrong with you.”

“you’re comfy. shut up.”

you laugh softly and try to shift again, but she tightens her grip like a clingy little koala, still half-asleep and absolutely unbothered.

you glance down at her — puffy eyes, sleepy pout, hoodie sleeves bunched at her elbows — and shake your head.

“you’re annoying.”

“you’re warm.”

“so is the sun, but i don’t see you clinging to that.”

“can’t kiss the sun.”

“would you die if you weren’t kissed?”

“yeah. but i would also die right here if you leave me.”

you groan and give in, settling back under the blanket with a dramatic sigh.

“good,” juju whispers, nuzzling your neck with a smug smile. “you learnin’.”

it’s quiet for a beat. then—

click click click.

little paws patter across the floor.

you lift your head just in time to see deuce trot past the couch, tail wagging, tongue out, absolutely no loyalty in sight.

“is that deuce up this early?”

juju groans and turns her head. “bro. not the walk of shame.”

you snort. “where was he even—”

“i watched him cuddle up with rian and brooklyn last night like he ain’t got a mama. a hoe.”

“he’s a dog.”

“he’s a male. not shocked.”

you both watch as deuce struts right past the people knocked out on the floor and pads into juju’s room like he owns it.

“oh wow,” juju mutters. “not him leaving me to go lay up with otto.”

you laugh into your pillow. “your son’s out here switching teams mid-movie night.”

“hoe behavior. can’t raise ‘em right.”

“you raised him to be clingy. just like you.”

juju gasps. “i am not clingy.”

you arch an eyebrow. “you wouldn’t let me go pee.”

she pauses. “okay. but i’m romantically attached. there’s a difference.”

“uh huh.”

“shut up.”

another pause. quiet now except for the hum of the fridge and the occasional sleepy sigh from the girls on the floor.

then, softly, “…i just hate being away from you.”

your heart tugs.

you glance down again — she’s still holding you, face soft now, less pouty, more vulnerable. voice smaller.

“like,” she adds, “not in a weird, codependent way. i just… i get scared sometimes.”

you run your fingers through her hair, gently. “scared of what, baby?”

“of waking up and you not being here. or you changing your mind. or just, you leaving.”

you go quiet. not because you don’t have words, but because you feel all of hers in your chest like a bruise.

“juju…”

“i’ve never had someone be my safe space before,” she whispers. “like, actually. not just fake-cute. i melt when you hold me. i breathe better.”

you press your lips to her forehead and let them linger.

“it’s not that i don’t trust you,” she says quickly, like she’s scared she’s said it wrong. “it’s just i trust you so much, it makes me afraid. like, if you left, i’d be lost. not ‘cause i can’t live without you. i can. i just wouldn’t wanna.”

you exhale slowly and pull her tighter.

“i’m not going anywhere,” you whisper.

“promise?”

“promise.”

she nods and sniffles once, real soft. “okay. cool. that’s all i needed.”

you cup her cheek and tilt her face up toward yours, brushing your thumb gently across her skin.

“you’re my safe space too, ju,” you whisper. “you get that, right?”

she stares at you for a second, then leans in and kisses you like she believes it now.

like she feels it in every inch of her skin.

after a beat, she pulls back with a little grin.

“you still gotta hold your pee, though.”

you groan and fall back into the pillows.

“you’re the worst.”

“no? i’m the best. your best.“

“you’ve held onto me all night.”

“who cares?”

“you trapped me.”

“with love, pretty.”

“you play so unfair.”

she giggles and curls up even tighter, leg now fully wedged between yours.

“i’m not lettin’ you off this couch ‘til i get pancakes and more kisses.”

“what if i have to pee again?”

“pee after pancakes. priorities.”

you kiss her forehead again. “you’re lucky you’re cute.”

“i know.”

you both go quiet again. the kind of quiet that feels full, not empty.

and just when your eyes start fluttering shut again—you hear otto’s voice echo from the bedroom, “ju! why is deuce in here spooning me like i’m his mom?”

juju bursts out laughing into your shoulder, voice muffled and delighted, “that’s what she gets for taking my son.”

you giggle and pull her close again.

and in that moment — tangled blankets, scattered friends, a hoe dog, and your clingy, sleepy, annoyingly perfect girlfriend in your arms — there’s nowhere else in the world you’d rather be.

© fuddaround