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nottivagos · 2 months ago

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(It's been a while since I did one of these, hasn't it?) Hello, welcome to Notti's "Not So Innocent" Notebook where I write some filth to make your Monday a little bit better! | 18+ mdni pls and ty

an: so i am a huge advocate for the submissive charles agenda, and the new partnership photos have me feral. i've been wanting to write charles in a mafia setting for a WHILEEEE now, and i thought, why not bring him alive now? (need a song to soundtrack whilst reading? listen to this!)

“Do you deserve me after that stunt you played today, Charles?” The question hung heavy in the air as your stiletto heel rested against his forehead, your leg acting as a barrier between you and your needy lover.

Charles gulped whilst on his knees, trying to crawl over to you helplessly. Your intense eyes fixed onto his face, hyper analysing every subtle change in his facial expression. The intensity of your cold eyes on his own wide ones made the expensive suit he was wearing suffocating. He’d seen that look in your eyes before, as the same shiver crawled down his spine whilst blood rushed with overwhelming excitement to his already quickly hardening length.

“Well?” The question was rougher, more demanding as it held a bit of grit behind clenched teeth. Impatient, even. Charles bit his lip in hesitation, his palms resting against the expensive rug below him became clammy as his ears pricked hot with the invasion of embarrassment mixed with burning arousal, which then made his cheeks flush a dark crimson and his chest tighten whilst he stayed in his place, in the large suite looking out onto the vast harbour of Monaco.

“Ma chérie,” he mustered meekly, throat dry as emotions surged around his body, a pool of fire churning in his stomach whilst his green eyes slowly met your unwavering gaze, locking onto you like a strong, pulling magnetic force.

“I-I can explain,” Charles stammered, croaking pathetically as he fought the growing desert in his mouth, “please, amour. Let me come closer.”

The plea made you snort in amusement, lips forming into a torturous smirk as you applied more pressure onto Charles’s forehead, flexing your leg straight and pushing him away in response, which allowed a small whimper to leave the man’s lips.

“No.” You responded simply, arms crossed over your chest unamused. “You don’t deserve to after today,” you added, observing his wide eyes and flushed expression.

The stubbornness broke Charles. He revelled in your disinterest you were showing in the moment, and the strong-willed personality you’d got, drowning in the small ways you were hardened in your approaches to matters whilst being undermined by men who thought you were in a field not made for women to play in.

After a moment of ogling, you caught his hardly subtle glance in between your legs, as you watched them sparkle in realisation that you weren’t wearing any panties underneath the lavish silk of your evening dress that draped lazily over your curves in intoxicating ways. The sight was even more thrilling for Charles, as he yearned to come closer, just to have the privilege of touching your bare pussy, which glistened on display.

“Ma beauté,” Charles groaned in response, as he watched you adjust yourself whilst also sitting on the floor, wiggling your ass so you could spread your thighs slightly outwards more. “Oh, lord,” he breathed out, his breathing hitched at the sight, mouth slightly agape before his eyes fixated onto yours, the eye contact a silent yearn for you to give in.

“Do you want to touch me, is that it, Charles?” You purred out, head tilting to the side as a wolfish grin formed broadly across your face, fire burning behind your eyes. “You're giving me that look again,” you added, making Charles freeze upon impact of the sultry syllables leaving your lips.

“Hmm, that's what I thought,” you mumbled lowly, eyes fixated on his slight changes of expression, before slowly moving your leg away from his face, down onto the floor with such smooth grace. “Come here,” you ordered sweetly with a swift movement of your finger.

In that moment, a spark let off in Charles’s mind, as if he was short-circuited to follow your every command. He crawled over to the other side of the room towards you, situating himself in between your legs, as you lured him in with that sickeningly beautiful smirk you always had when he followed your instructions ever so easily with no question asked.

“That's better,” you giggled softly, content due to his submission, hands coming to grasp and tug at the lapels of his suit’s blazer. Charles’s eyes stayed glued on your own eyes as they sparkled with glee, hiding the simmering irritation of what had unfolded during the evening underneath.

“Now,” you began, nose grazing his own as you pressed yourself into his front, “Why don't you tell me what you were doing with that lady, hm?” You asked, your voice dropping a dangerous octave lower.

Charles froze again. The woman that was speaking to him at the party flashed before him. He recalled the way she flirted with him, the way her voice murmured dirty nothings into his ear, touching his arm ever too friendly as he had tried to get you a drink from the lavish event's bar.

“She— I wasn't doing anything,” he protested with wide eyes, his hot breaths coming in pants as they blasted across your face.

“Sure you weren't,” you scoffed, unamused. “Do you think I'm stupid, Charles?” The question was as sharp as a stab through Charles’s heart, cutting deep with no mercy.

Before Charles could protest, you pressed a finger to his lips, shushing him. “Don't talk,” you whispered, soft eyes glossing over his facial features. Your spare hand came to wrap around his tie still around his collar, tugging him closer to you. “You're mine. You know that don't you, Charles?” You murmured into his ear, the words pooling so smoothly like honey, “always mine, too. Only allowed to be pretty for me.”

Charles’s breath hitched again, catching in his throat. Blush burnt furiously into his cheeks now as his mind became hazy from your possessiveness, the words like a drug, as all the excitement surged through his veins, reaching to his now hardened cock, sadly confined in his dress pants.

“Tell me that you're mine, Charles.” You commanded, lips dangerously close to his own as he felt your hot breath fanning across his parted lips. “And then maybe I'll kiss you.”

“I'm yours, mon cœur,” he replied, “always yours.”

“Good boy,” you praised with a smug smile, pulling his tie as your lips crashed against his own. A pathetic moan from Charles died in your mouth, as your tongue fought for dominance whilst you kissed him with such passion, possession resurfacing as your hands came to claw through his curls, scraping his scalp as you kissed feverishly.

His clothed erection rubbed against your bare cunt as you continued to make out, a small whimper leaving your lips in response. Hot, open-mouthed kisses followed as you trailed your lips across his jaw and torturously slowly down his neck, nipping and sucking at the flesh whenever you pleased, causing goosebumps to form in their wake.

Charles groaned hopelessly, the fact that your bites would leave bruises all over his neck drove him crazy as you continued with your barrage of nips, sucks and swipes of tongue over the sensitive skin. “So good for me,” you mumbled against his skin, teeth piercing it slightly, “can't wait to see these bruises tomorrow.”

He continued to rut against your now weeping cunt, clothed cock angrily hard against the hole as his hips stuttered with their movements. Your hands gripped onto his shoulders, nails digging into the clothing as he dry humped you with increasing passion.

“That's it, Charles,” you breathlessly praised into his ear, your throat becoming dry and raspy in the process. “Just like that, you're doing a great job.”

The praises drove Charles forward as your lips locked together again, if so, even more passionately. Your hands moved from his shoulders to his cheeks, cupping his face as you kissed him with an increasing intensity of passion and lust. Tongues swirled over each other whilst wanton moans echoed around the large suite, but you two were uncaring as Charles chased his imminent release desperately.

The coil in Charles’s burning belly snapped quickly— almost instantly, even. He groaned loudly as cum shot out of his cock, the cloth of his underwear serving as a barrier between him and your slick hole, the sticky sensation and uncomfortable feeling in his boxers as his cock softened brought him back to reality as you looked up at him, eyes half-lidded and panting.

“That…” you began, trying to collect your breath as you heaved slightly, the apples of your cheeks scorching with a crimson blush, “was amazing. Fuck, Charles, you were so good.” You praised again, peppering his face in chaste kisses.

“Does this mean that we're good now, mon trésor?” Charles asked between kisses, kissing back with the same affection. “Trust me, I wasn't doing anything with her—”

“I trust you, Charles,” you whispered gently, brushing your thumb against the apple of his cheek. “Now let me come and fuck you properly. I think it's only right of me to do so,” you giggled, hands lovingly coming to his shirt’s buttons, fumbling with them as you tried to strip Charles as fast as you could, ready for a night of affectionate love making. <3

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honeyhaeya · 8 months ago

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Adore You 📸

Yoon Jeonghan Fanfiction (oneshot)

Y/N x Yoon Jeonghan - MDNI!!!

GENRE: Fluff, Smut, Fem!Reader x Non-idol!Jeonghan, Photographer!Reader x Client!Jeonghan, Reader x Single Dad!Jeonghan, Angst(?), Suggestive.

>>> Y/N is named Lim Y/N

⚠️ WARNINGS ⚠️: Unprotected Sex, Oral Sex, Praise Giving, Fingering, Size Kink, Tongue Kissing, Blowjob, Simp!Jeonghan (to you), Swearing, Suggestive, and many showing of adoration from e/o >.< (feel free to tap away if you're not into these.) — (contains 7393 words)

(english is not my first language, so i apologize for any typographical or grammatical errors :/)

Synopsis: You are a photographer meeting a client who requested a photo session with his 4 year old daughter for an album, which is also needed for her school. When you meet them at the studio, the daughter quickly becomes very attached to you, even expressing a desire for you to be her mom. How should you handle the situation? (this is more like a preview, but anyways)

a/n: i only made this because it's been on my mind and i want to write it down. there's really a plot and duhh ofc some smut scenes (im really bad at making smut but yeah, im improving since ive been reading smut works lol). "adore u" by seventeen is related to this story. if you listen to the song, you'll understand why. anyways hope yall like this kind of shit hehe ❤️.

>>>pictures are from 📌, CTTO

It was a busy Monday, and today you had an appointment with your client, Mr. Yoon, for a photoshoot with his daughter. It was supposed to be quick, right? Well, you were wrong.

You arrived at the studio as planned, looking around as you waited. When Mr. Yoon finally appeared, you almost lost your breath. He looked stunning—his long hair cascading gracefully over his delicate, sweet features. It made you wonder how you ever lost touch with him after high school.

“Ah, Mr. Yoon,” you greeted him with a handshake. Your gaze then shifted to the little girl being carried by an older woman nearby. She looked absolutely adorable.

“Good afternoon, let’s skip the formalities,” Jeonghan said, smiling warmly. “We’ll start the photoshoot in a few minutes, so feel free to set up your cameras.” You nodded in response.

As you were setting up the lighting and equipment, you felt a small tug on the hem of your denim skirt. You looked down and saw Jeong-il, the four-year-old daughter of your client. A soft smile spread across your face as you crouched down to her level.

“Yes?” you asked gently, tucking a stray strand of her hair behind her ear. She had her father’s eyes, long lashes and pretty hair. And she has those chubby baby cheeks that made you want to pinch them—though, of course, you didn’t.

“Miss, you're really pretty,” Jeong-il said, her tiny hands now resting on your cheeks as she giggled. Her eyes sparkled with innocent admiration.

Compliments had always been tricky for you to handle, despite receiving them often. You just never knew how to react. But there was something about receiving praise from a child that felt different—genuine and unfiltered, unlike the hollow words you sometimes heard from your peers. Not that you're saying that all compliments are a lie. When a child spoke, it felt real, like a reminder that sincerity still existed in the world.

You smiled widely. “Thank you, sweetheart,” you replied, giving her a gentle pat on the head. “Where’s your dad? Should I take you to him?”

She pointed toward Jeonghan, who was seemingly in a phone call. “Daddy’s busy,” she mumbled. You nodded, about to say something when the older woman, presumably her grandmother, approached.

“I’m so sorry for the trouble,” the woman apologized, gently lifting Jeong-il into her arms. “I just looked away for a split second, and she ran off.”

You chuckled softly, shaking your head. “No trouble at all,” you reassured her.

“Grandma, I want to go to Daddy,” Jeong-il said, her voice small and pleading.

“Alright, let’s go,” the grandmother replied, carrying her off.

“Bye-bye, pretty miss!” the little girl called over her shoulder with a mischievous giggle.

You gave her a cheeky smile and waved back before returning your focus to the set-up. Soon after, the photoshoot began.

Jeonghan looked flawless as always, but his daughter stole the show. You couldn’t stop watching her—she knew exactly how to pose, how to express herself, and it was almost unbelievable how clever she was for her age.

When the shoot wrapped up, Jeonghan came over to review the photos. He stood close, looking through the camera you were holding, and smiled softly as he scrolled through the shots. You couldn’t help but stare at him for a moment longer than necessary. Once he approved the photos, he began to pack up to leave.

Just then, Jeong-il ran toward you, wrapping her little arms around your legs and refusing to let go. Her grandmother tugged at her gently, while Jeonghan tried to coax her.

“Jeong-il, we need to go,” Jeonghan said, a hint of exasperation in his voice as he tried to pull her off you.

“No! I want Mommy to come!” she cried, holding on even tighter. You were taken aback by her words—‘Mommy’? That was unexpected.

Jeonghan sighed. “If you don’t stop, we won’t get ice cream. And this lady isn’t your mother. Let’s go, or I’ll leave you here.”

You smiled sheepishly and leaned down to pick her up. Instantly, she released her grip on your leg and clung to you instead.

“Fine, leave me here. Mommy will take care of me,” she declared stubbornly.

You gently patted her back, trying to ease her grip, but she was surprisingly strong for her size.

“Jeong-il-ah, you have to go now,” you coaxed, but she only began to cry, loudly enough that everyone in the room turned to look. You swore your ears might have bled if you hadn’t stopped her in time.

Now, she was sitting on your lap, sipping banana milk, her head resting against your chest. You could tell she was fighting sleep, but soon enough, she drifted off. Jeonghan carefully took her from your arms and carried her to the car, her grandmother following closely behind.

“You’d make a great mother,” Jeonghan remarked as he gently settled Jeong-il into her seat. You only chuckled in response.

Once everything was settled, Jeonghan turned to you with a grateful smile. “I’m really sorry about that. She’s never acted like this before—I have no idea what got into her.”

“It’s really fine,” you replied, slipping your hands into your jacket pockets.

Jeonghan hesitated for a moment before offering, “Maybe I can treat you to dinner as a thank-you? I’m sure Jeong-il would love to see you again after everything.”

His smile was so warm that you almost stumbled over your words. “Oh, uh, it’s really okay. No need for compensation or anything,” you said, politely declining.

You could have taken the opportunity, but you knew you weren’t ready—not after your last heartbreak. Though Jeonghan’s offer wasn’t a date, the thought of getting involved again made you uneasy.

Your past relationship ended almost a year ago. You and your ex had been together for five years, and you had thought everything was perfect, even through the tough times because he was always there. On your fifth anniversary, you had expected a proposal, maybe because you thought he would after months of telling him about it—but instead, he broke up with you.

At first, you thought it was a joke. But then you saw the seriousness in his eyes. It turned out he had been seeing someone else behind your back, and worse, she was pregnant. He left you without hesitation, as if those five years hadn’t meant a thing. It's like he had to let you go just like there was no five years of relationship that you both went through.

Yes, he's an asshole and that was what made you feel devastated, spiraling into months of depression before you finally picked up the pieces. You were doing well now, but the idea of dating again hadn’t even crossed your mind since then.

Yesterday, Jeonghan had been persistent. No matter how many times you politely declined his invitation to dinner, he kept asking. Like father, like daughter, huh? He only relented when you finally gave in and handed him your number instead. But when he offered to drive you home, the flirting began as soon as he dropped his mom and daughter off at his penthouse. You could have flirted back, but instead, you just chuckled, trying to keep the mood light and avoid any awkwardness.

You had known Jeonghan for years. He had been your classmate throughout high school, and you often had small talks with him every day. It was nice that he always made an effort to approach you, even if it was just for a brief conversation.

Surprisingly, though, he seemed to know more about you. He had always been too shy to talk to you more back then. You were simply too pretty in his eyes, and on top of that, you were always surrounded by your own group of friends. And if there was ever a moment when you were alone, it didn’t last long—boys would come up to you and confess their feelings. Jeonghan had always wanted to do the same, but when he finally mustered the courage to approach you, he would lose his nerve and settle for small talk instead of confessing.

He had been afraid of rejection. After all, you were known in school as the heartbreaker, the girl who turned down every guy who dared to confess. That reputation stuck with you throughout your high school years, and maybe that’s why Jeonghan never found the courage to say what he really felt.

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He couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed when you turned him down the day before. But, he didn’t let it show. He figured you had your reasons. Truth be told, he had specifically hired you for the photoshoot when he saw your name on the list of available photographers. He had always been interested in you (and, of course, he *totally* hadn’t been waiting for you to become available). But all his hopes seemed to slip away when you rejected him.

Despite that, the whole situation with his daughter, Jeong-il, calling you "Mommy" was genuine. He actually liked it when she said that. It made him feel even more drawn to you, like a magnet. Just like his daughter, he couldn’t help but be attached to you. There was something about you that kept pulling people in—or maybe, it was just because he still had a teeny tiny (huge) crush on you, just like he did back in high school.

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Jeonghan was lost in thought, thinking about you as he pushed the cart at a slow pace. His reverie was broken when his mother took over. "Jeonghan, pay attention, will you? We missed the meat aisle," she snapped him back to reality. He sighed inwardly before picking up his little one.

As he stood by the meat section with his mother, he thought he saw a glimpse of you from afar. At first, he dismissed it, thinking he was imagining things, but after a second and third glance, it really was you. For real.

"Jeong-il-ah, look, mommy’s over there," Jeonghan whispered, pointing in your direction. The little girl turned excitedly, her eyes lighting up. Without missing a beat, Jeonghan placed Jeong-il on her feet, and she darted toward you, shouting, "Mommy!!!" Jeonghan smirked but then pretended to be engrossed in something else, acting as if he had no idea what was happening. He knew exactly what he was doing.

You turned your head, surprised to see the little girl rushing toward you, hugging your legs once again like she did before. "Mommy, mommy!" she shouted, making you look around for any signs of Jeonghan or her grandmother. Your friend, who was with you, snickered before quietly stepping away as Jeonghan approached.

You picked up the little girl and smiled at Jeonghan. "I’m not your momm—" you started, but before you could finish, Jeong-il interrupted, stuffing cookies into your mouth. "Mommy, isn’t it yummy? Grandma baked it," she said cheerfully. You chewed on the cookie, trying not to laugh at the overwhelming amount stuffed into your mouth.

Jeonghan stood by, smiling fondly as he watched you with his daughter. His heart fluttered. He couldn’t help but picture you as the mother of his child. If he could, he’d make another baby with you right then and there. "Sweetie, how many times do I have to tell you? She’s not your mother," he scolded gently. "No!" Jeong-il retorted stubbornly.

"It’s alright. I can play pretend," you whispered with a wink, finally managing to swallow the cookies. You didn’t want to upset the little girl, and besides, it wasn’t like you had anything better to do.

Jeonghan grinned, walking alongside you as you helped them with their groceries. You carried Jeong-il the entire time, while Jeonghan carried the shopping bags to the car. "Alright, Jeong-il, come to Dad now," Jeonghan said as they reached the car. The little girl shook her head and held onto you even tighter. "No! When I wake up, mommy will be gone again," she pouted, making you giggle at her stubbornness.

"You’ve brought this on yourself, Y/N," Jeonghan teased, crossing his arms and looking at you with an amused expression. You sighed, resigned to your fate. He opened the passenger door for you while Jeong-il reluctantly climbed into the back seat with her grandmother. The little one only let go of you once you agreed to sit in front.

You had no choice but to tag along. When you arrived at their penthouse, you couldn’t help but admire the luxurious surroundings. It wasn’t that you hadn’t seen such elegance before, but you hadn’t expected Jeonghan’s home to be this extravagant. In hindsight, you should have, given the car he was driving.

"Make yourself at home. I don’t think you’ll be able to leave until the little devil falls asleep," Jeonghan said, collapsing onto the sofa and switching on the television. "What time does she usually nap?" you asked, settling down beside him. "Around 3 p.m. most days," he replied, glancing over at Jeong-il playing with her toys and her grandmother.

"You know, Y/N, Jeong-il has never been this attached to any other lady before," Hae-na, his mother, said, her words tugging at your heart. You figured that maybe the little girl was simply longing for her mother’s presence, and you just happened to be there at the right time. Or perhaps there was something about you that made Jeong-il instantly fond of you. You didn’t want to assume too much, though, so you just nodded along. "Ah, is that so? Maybe she mistook me for her mother. Do I look like her, perhaps?" you asked, tying the little one’s hair into a neat ponytail. Jeong-il looked really cute with her hair up like this, and Jeonghan noticed it too. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips, watching you interact with his daughter.

"She’s never seen her mother," Hae-na replied softly. Jeonghan, overhearing the conversation, jumped in. "You don’t look like her at all. In fact, you’re way prettier than she ever was," he said, his eyes locking onto yours with a smirk. You blinked a few times before looking away, feeling a bit flustered. "Jeong-il definitely got her looks from me," Jeonghan added with a smug grin, and Hae-na just rolled her eyes as if she heard it from Jeonghan for the thousandth time.

You could tell he didn’t have fond feelings for the mother of his child, so you decided to steer clear of that topic.

After hours of playing, Jeong-il finally fell asleep in your arms while you and Jeonghan were watching cartoons together. You held her gently, giving her soft pats on the back as Jeonghan led you to her room. You carefully laid the little girl on her bed and tucked her in with a tender smile on your face.

You've always wondered what it would be like to be a mother. You'd dreamed about it, even fantasized. The thought of having a child, someone who needed you, relied on you, felt almost magical. But your ex never wanted the same. He claimed you were too young for kids—though that never stopped him from trying to get you in bed countless of times. Ironically, that same dick headed-ex got another girl pregnant, leaving you with the bitter taste of betrayal. Now, here you were, holding onto the warmth of Jeonghan's daughter, someone who clung to you like she’d been waiting for you her whole life.

The soft click of the bedroom door brought you back to the present as Jeonghan led you out of his daughter's room. You were about to say your goodbyes, but Hae-na, appeared with freshly brewed coffee. The polite thing to do was stay—refusing would’ve felt too rude, especially when his mother had already made her approval of you so clear.

So, now you sat, cup in hand, next to Jeonghan on the couch. His mother had left the two of you alone, and it didn’t escape your notice that she was encouraging this little reunion. Not that you minded… much.

"You're single, right?" Jeonghan’s voice broke the silence, catching you off guard. He was direct, just like you remembered. That was something you always liked about him—his lack of pretense. But all he knew is that he was never like this before.

The first time he saw you holding your camera in highschool, capturing every small little things so perfectly, it's like you already had his heart until then. He could've, no, he should've confessed to you about his feelings, and maybe, just maybe he could've possibly ended up with you until now. And that's what made him the person he is today—the person who's not afraid to say what he wanted to say because he didn't want to regret, the person who'd express himself freely around others about who he is. And you were the one who made that persona in him.

Those daily small talks with you before were his only source of energy that he kept to make himself go to school. The way he'd approach you and stutter in his words, contemplating whether he should confess his feelings to you or not, on which he didn't and would end up having small talks with you instead. That happened day after day until he couldn't anymore. Not after graduating. When he found out you were going to study abroad to pursue your dream as a photographer and filmmaking, there was no way he could confess the last minute. But he did remember you taking his photo with your very own camera. You were a few feet away from him and you held your camera to your face and the photo flashed. He pretended he didn't see and tried his best to remain composed. But behind his cool-looking demeanour was a heart that's beating fastly that made his hands shiver and get all sweaty. You took that photo for just about a second, he couldn't tell whether it was him you took of, but he prayed hard that it be him. It was then after you took the photo, "Congratulations Jeonghan," was the last words he heard from you before disappearing into his life.

"Y-yeah, I am," you stammered, feeling a little caught off guard by the bluntness of his question. "Why do you ask?"

Jeonghan smirked slightly, leaning back and crossing his legs as he took a slow sip of coffee. "Just making sure." His eyes flickered with mischief, but there was something deeper behind them, something you couldn't quite place.

You hummed, taking a sip of your coffee to cover the slight flush creeping up your cheeks. "Why does the coffee taste like dirt?" Jeonghan asked suddenly, his face serious. "Because it was ground a few minutes ago."

You choked a little, trying to stifle your laughter. It was a terrible dad joke, the kind that would make you roll your eyes any other time, but coming from him, it was oddly cute.

"I can't believe you actually said that," you chuckled, wiping a tear from your eye.

Jeonghan grinned, obviously pleased with himself. "I remember when we used to have those little talks in high school. Remember?"

You nodded, a nostalgic smile tugging at your lips. "Of course. You always found a way to make me laugh, even when I didn’t want to."

"I was a coward back then, though," he confessed, his voice soft, eyes glancing away as if lost in thought.

"Really?" you asked, leaning forward slightly. "How so?"

Jeonghan hesitated, the playful mask slipping for a second. He wanted to tell you—tell you how he used to stutter and falter around you, never able to muster the courage to confess his feelings. But now wasn’t the right time. There was too much at stake, and he couldn’t bear the thought of scaring you off when you’d just started letting him back into your life.

Instead, he shrugged casually. "Just because. I missed my shot back then."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, but you weren’t sure what to say. Before you could think of a response, Jeong-il’s soft voice called for him from her room. Jeonghan sighed, smiling fondly before excusing himself to check on his daughter.

As he disappeared into the hallway, you leaned back on the couch, letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Being around Jeonghan brought back a flood of memories—ones you weren’t sure you were ready to face. But there was something undeniable about the way he made you feel, something that made you want to take a chance.

A few minutes later, Jeonghan returned, sliding back onto the couch beside you. "She’s back asleep," he said softly, his eyes finding yours once more.

"Where were we?" you asked, trying to keep your tone light, though your heart was still racing.

"I think I was about to ask you out," Jeonghan replied with a smirk, his tone playful but his gaze sincere. "Dinner? No pressure, just… dinner."

You bit your lip, hesitating for a moment. After everything you’d been through, the idea of opening yourself up again felt terrifying. But something about Jeonghan felt safe, familiar. Like maybe this time, things could be different.

"Okay," you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper. "Dinner sounds nice."

Jeonghan’s face lit up with a grin, and you couldn’t help but smile back. Maybe, just maybe, this could be the start of something new.

Jeonghan had always been around you, in ways you hadn’t noticed until now. Bumping into him at the park, catching sight of him outside your workplace, or seeing him at the mall—it was as if fate kept pulling the two of you together. And you had to admit, it was starting to work. He brought you lunch during your breaks, always with a smile and a joke ready. Sometimes, he brought Jeong-il with him, and you’d end up spending the rest of the afternoon with them.

It wasn’t long before you found yourself looking forward to those moments. The flutter in your chest when you spotted him waiting for you, the way your heart warmed when Jeong-il ran into your arms. Maybe this was what you needed—to take a chance on someone who was determined to be a part of your life.

But still, a small part of you held back, unsure, scared. You’d been hurt before, and there was always that nagging fear that history could repeat itself. But for the first time in a long time, you found yourself ready to let go, to go with the flow.

Jeonghan was persistent, and he was winning you over. Little by little, with every unexpected gesture, every shared laugh, every moment with Jeong-il, you felt yourself slipping into something that felt like it could be more.

And maybe, just maybe, you were okay with that.

One night, as you stepped out of work, your heart raced in anticipation of seeing Jeonghan again. You checked your phone, expecting to see a message from him saying he was waiting for you. Instead, a different notification lit up your screen.

"Hey, darling, I'm busy this week and I'm on a business trip. Sorry I couldn't come see you :("

The disappointment hit you harder than you expected. You stared at the message for a moment, feeling a weight settle in your chest. Maybe it was because you'd gotten used to seeing him almost every day. Or maybe because the absence of him, even for just a week, felt strangely unsettling.

It upset you, honestly. But did you also have the right? He had responsibilities—he was a single dad, a man juggling his job, his daughter, and now… you. Of course, he was busy. He had his own world to manage, and what were you to him, really?

Maybe all those thoughtful gestures—bringing you lunch, waiting for you outside work, spending time with you and his daughter—were just his way of being kind. Maybe that’s just who he was, affectionate and caring with everyone. That thought twisted in your gut, and you hated the surge of jealousy that followed.

You wanted his attention. You wanted him to only give you that attention.

Fuck. Since when did you become this selfish? You weren’t like this. But for the first time in your life, you wanted someone to look at you and only you. To give all that effort, all that affection, to you and no one else.

You weren’t in love with him, were you?

“What are you thinking?” you muttered under your breath, trying to shake the thoughts away as you stared blankly at your computer screen. But your focus was shot. It had been three weeks, almost a month, since you last saw him or his daughter, and it was driving you insane. You missed his presence—the way he made everything around you feel lighter, easier.

Sure, he messaged you frequently. He sent chocolates, little gifts here and there, and he always made sure to update you, even if it was just a simple “thinking of you.” But it wasn’t enough. Not for you. You wanted to see him, to hear his voice, to feel the warmth of his presence beside you. That’s what you longed for.

Fuck it. You knew the truth. You were in love with him. There was no point in denying it anymore. The realization hit you like a punch to the gut, and suddenly, everything felt too real, too overwhelming.

Jeonghan wasn’t the type to just give his time and effort to anyone. You knew that. He wasn’t someone who threw affection around carelessly. But with you? You were an exception. Of course, aside from his daughter and his mother, you were the one person who seemed to break through his guarded exterior.

There was something about you that made him want to give you the whole damn world.

Maybe it was because of how you’d effortlessly charmed his hard-hearted daughter, or how undeniably beautiful you were—not just in appearance, but in the way you treated the people around you. Or maybe it was the way you giggled at his corny dad jokes, the same ones no one else found funny, or maybe it was the way you were cold at first, yet somehow always tolerated his awkwardness and small talk back in high school.

You took photography seriously, capturing life’s little moments with a passion that fascinated him. And to him, you were as beautiful as every subject you photographed. Screw it. He liked you because you're you. The only one person in this world he'd ever want.

And now, Jeonghan couldn’t shake the feeling that you were the one he’d been waiting for. The one he wanted by his side. The one he’d want to be the mother of his daughter (children).

You are the one for him and maybe he's the one for you too?

You were at a dinner party with your co-workers, and it didn't take long for the alcohol to hit you. Halfway through, you were already tipsy, maybe because the stress of not seeing Jeonghan for so long was getting to you. Even though you’d only had three glasses, your low tolerance made it feel like you'd had more.

“Already drunk? Gosh, you’re really no fun, unnie,” Minji, your younger co-worker and friend, teased with a playful grin.

“I’m not... drunkhh,” you slurred, resting your head on the table.

“Looks like Y/N has to head out early,” one of your male co-workers offered, standing up with a smirk, already volunteering to take you home. You were too tipsy to think clearly, and the others quickly agreed, unaware of his ulterior motives as he helped you out of the venue.

The man supported your weight, holding you by the waist, his grip a little too tight than necessary, his smirk a little too confident too. He clearly had other intentions. “I can gow howm by myself...” you muttered, trying to push him away weakly, but before he could call a cab, you felt a hand tap your shoulder.

"Y/Nnie," a familiar voice broke through your drunken haze, and when you turned, your face lit up with joy. Jeonghan stood there, a warm smile on his face. Your hands instinctively reached for his face, checking if he was real, and you giggled at your own silliness.

"Jeonghannieeee~ I missed youuu," you beamed, your voice slurring as you clung to him.

Immediately, you freed yourself away from the man and wrapped your arms around Jeonghan’s waist. Jeonghan, with that familiar steady presence, held you close, supporting your weight. The man who had been holding you gave a blank stare, but he wasn’t giving up that easily.

“And who are you?” the guy asked, clearly annoyed.

Jeonghan turned to him, his expression calm but teasing. “Oh, I forgot you were still there. Sorry.” He added, “I’m Y/N’s boyfriend, by the way.”

A brief silence fell before Jeonghan broke it again, his tone final, “I’ll take her from here.” He led you away, not even bothering to look back as he buckled you into his car. Before driving off, he gave the guy one last look, a smirk tugging at his lips as he let out a mocking “tsk.”

As you settled into the passenger seat, you giggled, still drunk and half-asleep. “Oooh... You’re my boyfriend?” you asked, voice playful.

Jeonghan chuckled. “You don’t want that?” he teased.

You thought for a moment, your eyes half-closed. “I’d like that...” you murmured before drifting into sleep. Jeonghan’s soft laughter filled the car as he glanced at you, finding you absolutely adorable.

The drive was peaceful, the soft hum of the radio the only sound as you slept beside him. He was relieved he’d gotten there in time before anything bad could’ve happened. He shook his head, smiling to himself. You really had no idea how much you meant to him.

When he finally parked in front of your apartment complex, he gently tapped your shoulder to wake you. “Darling, are you stable?” he asked in a soft, caring voice.

You groggily opened your eyes, rubbing your temples as the headache from the alcohol hit. “W-where are we?” you asked, now mostly sober after your nap.

“We’re at your place,” he replied, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

You hummed in response, pausing for a moment before turning to face him. “Thanks for bringing me home,” you said quietly, feeling a flutter in your chest as his gaze met yours. His stare made your cheeks warm, though this time it wasn’t the alcohol causing it.

“No problem, cutie,” he said with a soft smile before getting out of the car and opening the door for you. He unbuckled your seatbelt and offered his hand, and you took it, letting him guide you to your apartment. Once at your door, you turned to say goodbye, but before you could stop yourself, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his.

Jeonghan’s eyes widened slightly in surprise, his first instinct was to pull back, worried you might regret it later. But the softness of your lips, the warmth of your body against his—it was too much to resist. Without thinking, he deepened the kiss, his hands moving to hold you close. It felt desperate, like he’d been waiting for this moment far longer than he’d realized.

Your lips were so soft, sweet and delicate like he'd never want to let go of this sensation. His tongue teasing the bottom of your lips, longing for an entrance. Your body was trapped in between your apartment door behind you and Jeonghan's body in front. His hand is on your waist while the other one was on the back of your head, pulling your head closer to his so the kiss could reach deeper.

Your tongues were entangled to each other, swirling like there's no tomorrow. His was too intoxicating that you couldn't pull away even if you wanted to catch your breath.

A few minutes later, Jeonghan pulled away, strings of your mixed salivas were in between your glossy lips. All he wanted to do was kiss you right there and again, but he knew he had to stop himself. You panted and felt your body heat up like it's aching for more. You immediately unlocked the door and led him inside without even looking back but he stopped you.

He glanced at you, seeing the same desire in your eyes. “I’m not tipsy,” you whispered, as if you knew what he was thinking and hesitating for. The heat between you was impossible to ignore.

"Don't you want me, Hannie?" You asked, your hands roaming around his stomach, looking at him with pleading eyes. Jeonghan did his best to fight his urges to fuck you right then and there. He wanted you. He wanted to fuck you so bad. Jeonghan hesitated, wanting to be sure. “Are you sure? I don’t want you to regret anything," he replied, his hands roaming around your hips to its own accord.

“I won’t,” you assured him, your voice firm, your eyes filled with longing. “I’ve missed you... so much.”

Jeonghan was still hesitant for a moment, but hearing you admit that was not what he expected. He could practically feel his manhood harden under his pants. And who wouldn't get hard after making out with you?

Without another word, his lips found yours again. You led him to your bedroom without breaking the kiss. He pushed you onto the bed undressing you like he's done it a hundred times before. He undid your bra so easily with one hand as he directly touched your soft breasts. The kiss remained deep and he didn't pull away until you unbuttoned his blouse. He pulled your skirt and tossed it to the ground as his fingers slid into your wet panties, teasing your aching clit. You tried your best to not moan in between kisses, but it's like your body was lost under your control. He pulled away from the kiss to turn his attention towards your wet pussy. He continued to tease it before finally taking the underwear off and inserting one finger into your wet crotch. You moaned to the feeling, making your mind turn into a haze. And Jeonghan loved the sounds you were making. It's like he fell in love to the melody even if it's his first time hearing it from you.

It's been so long since you've last had someone else's finger in you like this. But as far as you can remember, even with this one finger of Jeonghan's were enough to send you to heaven itself.

He put in one more finger, fucking your pussy soft and fastly. Making you pant and let out moans.

"Shit, your moans are adorable," Jeonghan says, leaning down to your pussy and licking it. His tongue entered your folds and that was enough to make you squirt. When you reached your orgasm, Jeonghan made sure to lick your clit, making you let out a whine. "Fuck..." you curse out as you covered your face.

"So pretty, baby," Jeonghan says, his fingers now pinching your nipples, making you moan loudly. He pulled his pants down and you can see his bulge from his underwear. It was huge under the fabric, making you think if it'd even fit you. "Spit in your hands, baby," he says, grabbing your wrist and you did so.

You brought your hands to his cock as soon as he took his underwear off and you stroked onto it up and down before finally licking the top. You bobbed your head over it, and it made Jeonghan groan to the feeling. He couldn't believe that you were actually giving him a blowjob. He only saw these in his fantasies, but now, you're actually making him feel this way. "Your mouth... Ah, shit, it's so beautiful," he grunted, his hands massaging your breasts, making sure you also get enough attention.

Your hands stroked faster and you licked his cock harder, making him reach his ends and finally cum. He came onto your face, his hot semen covering your cheeks. Jeonghan's dick throbbed right away after seeing your face covered with his cum. "Fuck, you're so beautiful," he says, wiping his semen off your face as he planted a kiss on your lips.

He gently pushed you down the bed again, you're now lying underneath him, he looked at you with dark, lustful eyes. "Our kids would be so pretty if I get you pregnant," he muttered, but not enough to let you hear, and you only blinked at him.

He shifted close before whispering, "Can I?" He asked as you felt the tip of his cock brushing over your clit, and you felt your stomach get actual butterflies in it hearing him ask for permission. "Only if you say it," he says, and you took a deep breath before finding your words, "P- please... Fuck me," you said and his cock slowly enter your folds, making your back arch upwards. You took time adjusting to the stretch you were feeling. It didn't hurt a lot, instead it felt incredibly good. "Aghh," you moaned, "F- faster, Hannie," you finally let the words out. And Jeonghan's pace was fast, hard.

He felt your pelvis hit his as your pussy swallows him well. "Ah, shit, so tight. Don't cum yet, baby," he says as his hips thrusts into you harder, you moaned, feeling his cock twitching in and out of you. His hands were giving your breasts attention while his lips were onto your neck, leaving marks everywhere. Such a multitasker, and you know you love it.

"S- so good," you say as his cock reached that one good spot, making you scream. "Shitt," Jeonghan cursed as he felt your walls tightening around him. "Don't cum yet," he says, his pace more faster to meet his orgasm with you.

He took out his cock out of you and his cum went over your stomach while you came, your bedsheets wet with your fluids under your lower body. You were panting, breathless. Jeonghan slumped beside you, his hands never leaving your body, as if he wanted to memorize your every curve.

He planted a kiss on your forehead while you buried your face onto his chest. He gave your back gentle strokes as if asking for another round, you couldn't help but giggle at his way of asking.

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

The night went on, with both of you giving in to the emotions that had been bubbling up for so long. —One where you were seated on his lap, moving your hips onto his with a slow pace. Not long enough, though, you got tired and Jeonghan had to pin you down the bed and fuck you himself.

And the other where your legs rested on his shoulders while he thrusts his cock hardly in and out of you with incredibly fast movements that you practically felt your eyes move to the back of your head. He fucked you so well, groaning and giving you compliments while he was at it. Such as: "So adorable," "You're so pretty," "You're doing well.". While you, well, let's just say all you did was moan and let out whimpers. It's like you couldn't even think straight while he fucked you like that. But you heard his words, and that added up to the good sensation you were feeling. You loved hearing his compliments—and that drove you to your climax, cumming before him which made him curse in frustration, but he didn't stop there, in fact—he continued until he reached his own.

And after at least 3 rounds of love-making, you both layed down on the bed, cuddling each other while his cock remained inside you. He was still hard, but he understood that you were too tired, so he did all the work, moving slowly in you while you whimpered under him. "I'm almost--," he grunted, finally coming to his release, and you came, for the probably fifth... or sixth(?) time this night. "You're amazing, baby. I love your body, your smell, your hands, your face... I love everything about you," he says, and you only buried your face onto the pillow. "I love you."

"I love you too," you replied, panting quietly.

Later, you lay beside him, his arms wrapped securely around your waist. The silence was comforting, but eventually, you broke it. “Can I ask you something?” Jeonghan hummed, urging you to continue.

You hesitated, unsure if you should even bring it up. But eventually, you whispered, “What happened to Jeong-il’s mother?”

Jeonghan’s body tensed slightly, but then he chuckled softly. “She didn’t want anything to do with me or the baby. I took full custody of Jeong-il.”

Though he brushed it off and replied as if it wasn't really an important matter to him, your curiosity lingered, and sensing it, Jeonghan sighed before continuing. “I was reckless back then. She got pregnant, and I took responsibility, but less than a year after Jeong-il was born, she moved on by herself. Honestly, it’s fine. I didn’t expect her to stay. If anything, I’m grateful. It brought me to you.”

You hummed in understanding, though a tinge of jealousy flared in your chest. What if things had been different? What if she had stayed? Then again, you were also being selfish, so you wanted to brush it off your thoughts. But before your thoughts could spiral, Jeonghan spoke again.

"Don't even think about it. I loved you since we were in high school," Jeonghan says, and you look up at him, blinking a few times before tilting your head to the side in confusion.

"Okay, let me start from the top. Are you ready?"

You nod, smiling in anticipation.

"But first, tell me, did you take a photo of me before after we graduated?" He questioned, making you feel a bit flustered.

"You... how did you know that?" You replied, returning the question and he just chuckled lightly, placing a kiss on your forehead. "Okay, well, maybe it's because I liked you too, back then... And I couldn't get myself to approach you that day because I thought you would approach me," you continued, but then you shook your head. "Okay, maybe I shouldn't have waited and approached you myself instead. Sorry I didn't get to say goodbye properly."

Jeonghan smiled. A content look on his face at your confession—just what he wanted to hear. He's been waiting for that confirmation since forever.

With a soft sigh, he kissed your lips again, just a peck, enough to get your attention again. "I'm glad you said that," he replied, and continued what he was just saying earlier.

"I would always, should, could've, and have always adored you since day one…"

And that’s how you ended up being the mother of his two beautiful children: your adorable Jeong-il and a beautiful baby boy. Of course, you also became Jeonghan’s wife soon enough.

And he will always adore you.

~*⁠.⁠✧✿⁠ THE END ✿✧.*~

~~~You've reached the end.

—AEYA HERE!: i hope you enjoyed this one, it's pretty long and the ending was taken to a quick wrap, but yeah, i hoped you enjoyed this one. i think it's mostly fluff? let me know what you guys think. and yeah, im open for requests, so if you have any suggestions/requests, just talk to me :)

-AEYA HERE!: your likes, reblogs, follows are very much appreciated. it boosts my dopamine and makes me want to upload and make more stories asap so yeah, interacting with me really helps ^^

wattpad: @muuimihanmal_writes

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dessarchive · 2 months ago

Text

FAME DR. VOGUE INTERVIEW.

on monday morning, jo cameron sat down with vogue in her father’s diner, luke’s, in downtown woodstock, new york to discuss her what goes through her mind when creating an outfit, current favorite pieces, accessories, comfort, and her future fashion plans.

jo joined us today wearing a dark blue long sleeve t-shirt with a denim skirt, navy adidas handball spezial shoes, diamond earrings that sparkle as the sun shone through the window we sat by and rings that decorated her fingers.

while we waited for our food we started asking jo questions to get you the best look into her closet.

EVERYDAY COMFY & CUTE

when looking for an everyday outfit, what is going through your mind and do the seasons effect that?

yes, the seasons definitely effect what i’m thinking about when picking an outfit for the day, but i’m always wanting to be comfortable while keeping it cute. comfortableness is the most important thing to me because if i’m not comfortable i’ll probably be annoyed throughout the day and i hate having a sour mood. i love having a cute outfit, of course, and right now i’m really into smaller/tighter tops with baggy bottoms since it’s getting warmer. during colder months i really like layering up, i think finding the right layers can make an outfit really pop. during summer, i really like loose-fit pieces that are easy to move around in and keep a bikini underneath because i love swimming. for fall i usually keep it simple and comfortable with light sweaters, sweatpants or jeans, and a hoodie. hoodies are one of my favorite pieces ever and i have loads of them.

when accessorizing, what are you typically grabbing these days?

lately i’m in love with hoop earrings and a lot of rings. i think they really add to the look and give it a nice touch. i really love layering on bracelets too. bags are key to any outfit and i love matching them to a certain color in my outfit so i have many bags.

what about shoes? heels seem to be your signature.

i wear whatever feels right and once again, comfortable. i do wear heels often and people assume that’s where i draw the line at comfortableness, but that’s not true. a good pair of heels should always be comfortable, but other shoes i usually wear are new balances 530, uggs, and boots, heeled or not, and the classic converse.

WORKOUT SWEATS OR SWEATING?

paparazzi seem to love capturing photos of you leaving the gym and fans adore your outfits! how do you pick them?

it’s similar to picking any outfit. like i said earlier, i always wanting to be comfortable and cute and i think matching sets really suit both of those. when working out you always need something that’s easy to move around in as well and that’s really crucial for a good workout so whether it’s more tight-fitting or loose-fit, i always strive for comfort and flexibility.

what is your favorite piece of athletic wear?

i really love the shorts with pockets on the side or built in the waist band. it allows me to keep my phone nearby in case someone calls or just because i don’t like sitting it somewhere that i can’t reach. i also love a good pair of sneakers. i feel like i’m starting to become a shoe collector.

LOUNGEWEAR LOOSE & BREATHABLE

when you get home after a long day, what do you typically change into?

something very loose that i could easily sleep in. i don’t usually change right into my pajamas when i get home as most times i still have work to do. whether that be around the house or hopping on a zoom call with my manager or casting directors but if i end up falling asleep i’ll still be comfortable. i also hate outside clothes on furniture especially on my bed, it’s always been something i’m picky about.

what are you usually doing after a long day?

journaling, reading, or watching tv. i’ve been obsessed with sex and the city lately so i’ll usually sit on the couch eating something until my boyfriend comes home then we will watch it together or cook dinner together.

FORMAL/EVENTS SLEEK & SPARKLY

when you attend events, you usually have lots of details whether it be the jewels, the design, or the overall look. what part is your favorite about choosing your look for events such as the met gala?

probably being able to make my own little changes to it or adding something of my own. i love working with designers and pulling things out of archive, but adding my own little touch means the world to me. it reminds me of when i was a little girl playing dress up with my sisters in my moms closet.

what’s your mindset going into something like these events? there’s hundreds of eyes and cameras on you at all times while you’re attending. does it make you nervous?

i’m always nervous going to these big events but i don’t let it stop me. i take it easy days before and on the day of, i only let people around me that will calm my nerves instead of making them worse. i don’t go on my phone unless i’m watching something to distract myself while getting my hair and makeup done or i’m doing a meditation to calm my nerves while in the car. when i get on the carpet or to the event, i steady my breathing and remind myself i’ll be okay. these events can be overwhelming for anyone even fans. when the event starts i find my friends and i feel loads better. the days following, i get myself back into rhythm. i know there’s going to be talk, good or bad, so i try to avoid social media afterwards and stick to my normal schedule.

what’s your favorite look so far?

probably the first dress on the third row. it’s such a beautiful dress and it was quite comfortable. i loved the designs on the dress and the jewelry paired with it was to die for. i got to tell the stylist how i wanted my hair to look and i’m so glad fans loved it as much as i did.

now for our last question, what are your plans for fashion in the future?

i really want to go outside of my bubble. i want to layer more and put pieces together that many think wouldn’t usually go together. i want crazy colors and unique accessories. i really adore people who are already doing that and hope i can do the same soon.

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lavendermin · 9 months ago

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Hear me out...

Jing Yuan making Yanqing his wingman by making (forcing💀) Yanqing to give a bouquet of flowers to kindergarten teacher yn but Yanqing trashes the "From: Jing Yuan to: Yn" (or smth idk) and gives it to reader.

Yanqing is just like "for you😊"

So when reader receives it she praises Yanqing not Jing Yuan (plus points if he gives it at the end of the class and Jing Yuan was picking him up, hearing reader praise Yanqing for the flower HE bought for reader I'm sobbbinggg)

Anyways how are you president of Jing Yuan nation

Dawn of a new Monday in Jing Yuan nation and we are ready to roll 💗 Anon this is such a cute concept. I love that we all want to make jing yuan subtly miserable for this au

Jing Yuan thinks he’s so clever with the bouquet of flowers—the freshest of blooms from a long time contact that has worked with his company for events. It’s not overtly huge and he also doesn’t want to be too straightforward by giving it to you himself. Even Yanqing caught on.

“Why do you need flowers in the morning?” Yanqing asks as they enter the flower shop. Used to routine, he can tell it’s a little earlier than usual for this stop before school.

“We’re picking up some flowers for your teacher. She deserves a gift. You like her, yes?”

Yanqing nods, eyes sparkling. He tries to reach up for the bouquet, tiny hands tugging his father’s jacket.

“Can I give them to teacher?” He asks with pleading eyes.

Why not, Jing Yuan thinks. He ruffles his hair and agrees, leaving Yanqing to carry the bouquet that’s almost as long as he is.

Once he’s dropped off at school, Jing Yuan feels his chest blooming with a sense of accomplishment. In the card sitting among the flowers he has included a sweet invitation for coffee with him on a weekend of your choice. Surely by the end of the day he should hear your response if not sooner.

The day rolls by with no word from you. Perhaps you’re shy. Or busy with a hands-on task with the kindergartners. Wasn’t finger painting today? No matter, he’ll ask Yanqing once he picks him up in an hour.

—

As soon as Yanqing huddled into the classroom he was giddy to be able to give you the bouquet on behalf of his father. Ah, and there you were at your desk tidying up some graded assignments and looking through the cabinets for a few other supplies.

“Yanqing!” One of his classmates popped up in front of him, tugging his jacket. “Come look at the toy sword Yunli brought for recess!”

On second thought, that could wait. He immediately shoved all his things into his assigned cubby and dashed off to see the sword where a little group was huddled around.

He could give them later anyway.

And it’s a pleasant little surprise when class is over and the kids start filing out to their waiting parents that Yanqing hobbles over to you with a comically large (compared to his stature) arrangement of flowers.

“For you,” Yanqing beams with a cheerful smile.

You think you could cry. He really is a sweet little kid. (This is fueling your baby fever terribly) And he’s already dashing out the door before you can get more than a thank you out.

—

“Did you give your teacher the flowers?” Jing Yuan asks with an inward smile as Yanqing ran over to hug him after school. He nods proudly.

“She put them on her desk and smiled a lot. And she said thank you.”

Jing Yuan listens to Yanqing tell of what happened during class—the cool toy sword, finger painting (just as he thought), and the fruit shaped gummies they got as a prize for snack time (oh dear, he kept the strawberry ones in his pocket).

“Baba, you forgot this with your flowers.” Yanqing hands him a little card as he’s buckled into his car seat.

…The card that was supposed to be tied to the flowers.

“Ah, thanks kiddo,” he smiles, a little confused (maybe a little disappointed but he won’t show it). “What happened to the ribbon?”

“Oh, Huohuo lost her hair bow on the playground and started crying so I gave her the ribbon. She was really sad but the ribbon made her stop crying.”

He can’t be upset. Not when Yanqing is beaming about helping his little classmates. He’ll just have to ask you some other time.

Ding.

1:46PM [Yanqing’s Hot Teacher] Thank you for the flowers :) I’d like to return the favor for something so kind.

His heart misses a few beats seeing your incoming text. And Yanqing is whining in the car seat because why isn’t baba driving the car yet? Hello?

Jing Yuan snaps a picture of the card that was supposed to be with the bouquet and sends it to you.

1:49PM [Jing Yuan] sent an attachment.

1:49PM [Jing Yuan] I may have an idea.

#jing yuan x reader #💌 anon #ask stuff 💌#rise and shine jing yuan looney bin citizens #it’s time for your daily kindergarten au delusions #pspspspsps #mii writes

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fwaist · 5 days ago

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i loved your 2000s tashi is it possible you could to an 80s tashi?

of course i can!!!

HUNGRY EYES

you’re her secretary. she never raises her voice. she doesn’t need to. all it takes is a look and your knees lock. she ruins you with silence and eye contact, and then she lets you clean yourself up in the reflection of her office window.

pairing: corporate yuppie!tashi x secretary!fem!reader

warnings: explicit sexual content (fingering, powerplay, orgasm control, breast play), dom!tashi, sub!fem!reader, emotionally distant dynamics, corporate eroticism, voyeurism (window), 1980s glamour/power aesthetic, intense gaze kink, objectification, degradation (implied), lack of aftercare, unbalanced power dynamic, slow burn smut pacing, no aftercare

The Wall Street Journal sits folded on her glass-topped desk, announcing Black Monday's aftermath in stark black type, the October 1987 market collapse still sending aftershocks through every financial district corridor. Your shoulder pads feel particularly heavy today beneath your silk blouse – Dynasty-inspired armor for the corporate battlefield where women like you are still fighting for footholds. The clock on the wall reads 7:43 PM, its quiet ticking a counterpoint to the Diana Ross cassette playing softly from Tashi’s private office where she’s been holed up since the markets closed.

You’re not supposed to be here this late, but the stack of reports she demanded for tomorrow’s board meeting required overtime, and your predecessor’s abrupt firing is warning enough about the consequences of disappointing Tashi Duncan.

"Come in here," her voice slices through your thoughts, not shouting but somehow filling every molecule of air between her office and your desk. You gather your notepad and pen, smooth your pencil skirt, and steady yourself with a deep breath before pushing open the heavy mahogany door. Tashi sits behind her expansive desk, backlit by the Manhattan skyline, her silhouette sharp against the city lights that sparkle like the diamonds at her ears. Her blazer has been discarded over a nearby chair, leaving her in a dark silk blouse with a dramatic cowl neck, her hair out of her usual, severe ponytail and brushing the tops of her shoulders.

"Close the door," she says without looking up from the financial statement she's annotating with a Mont Blanc pen, its gold nib catching the light as forcefully as her presence catches your attention. The room smells of Opium perfume and the lingering notes of expensive scotch, creating an atmosphere as intoxicating as it is intimidating. Your heels sink into the plush carpet as you approach her desk, the door clicking shut behind you with a finality that makes your pulse quicken inexplicably.

"I've been watching you," Tashi finally looks up, her eyes holding yours with an intensity that makes you forget the room's cool air conditioning. "Three weeks as my assistant, and you're still here at eight o'clock on a Friday night – either you're desperate for approval or terrible at managing your workload." She places her pen down with deliberate precision, the way she does everything – measured, controlled, purposeful. "Which is it?"

"I… I wanted to make sure the Davidson portfolio analysis was complete before Monday's presentation," you respond, proud that your voice betrays none of the nervous energy coursing through your veins. The corner of her mouth twitches, not quite a smile but something adjacent to approval, and something hot unfurls in your stomach. "The market volatility means their holdings need significant restructuring if we want to maintain their confidence."

"Sit," she gestures to the chair across from her desk, but when you move toward it, she shakes her head. "No, here," she pats the edge of her desk, the glass surface gleaming under the banker's lamp that casts her in amber light. You hesitate only for a moment before perching on the edge of her desk, your skirt riding up slightly above your knees as you cross your legs, the sheer fabric of your stockings catching against the smooth surface.

Tashi leans back in her chair, assessing you with the same calculated precision she applies to market trends and acquisition targets. "Do you know why I hired you over the Harvard MBA with three years' experience at Goldman?" Her voice drops lower, each word deliberate as she reaches for her crystal tumbler, ice clinking softly against the sides. The question hangs between you, rhetorical yet demanding an answer.

"Because I won't challenge you the way he would have," you answer honestly, watching her sip her scotch, leaving a perfect impression of her red lipstick on the rim. Something dark flashes in her eyes – not anger but appreciation for your candor, for understanding the unspoken rules of her domain. "Men like him want your job; I just want to learn from you."

"Mmmm," she hums, setting down her glass and leaning forward, the movement causing her gold bangles to slide down her wrist with a musical chime. "That's what you tell yourself, isn't it?" Her voice carries a note of amusement as she reaches out, her fingers stopping just short of your knee. "But I saw something else in that interview – something hungry behind those careful answers and that Saint Laurent suit you clearly couldn't afford but bought anyway."

Heat rises to your cheeks as her fingers finally make contact with your knee, her touch light but deliberate as she traces a small circle on your skin just above your stocking. "I saw someone who wants more than she admits, who calculates every move, who watches and waits and plans." Her eyes lock with yours, challenging, assessing, daring you to deny it. "Someone who reminds me of myself ten years ago."

You resist the urge to shift under her touch, under her gaze that seems to see right through the careful persona you've constructed. "There are worse people to be compared to," you reply, your pulse hammering against your throat as her hand slides an inch higher, her touch feather-light yet somehow burning through the thin fabric of your skirt. The faint sounds of New York traffic float up from thirty stories below, a distant soundtrack to this unexpected scene unfolding in the rarified air of her corner office.

"Stand up," Tashi commands suddenly, her hand retreating as she rises from her chair in one fluid motion. "Turn around." You comply without hesitation, something about her tone bypassing your usual tendency to question, to analyze. The reflection of you both appears in the window – you facing the glass, Tashi behind you, the city lights creating a glittering backdrop to this power play.

She steps closer, close enough that you can feel the heat radiating from her body though she doesn't touch you. "I don't mix business with pleasure," she says, her breath warm against your ear, the contradiction between her words and actions hanging between you. Her hands come to rest lightly on your shoulders, thumbs pressing gently against the tension you carry there. "But I do believe in rewarding exceptional potential when I see it."

"Is that what this is?" you ask, watching her reflection in the window, her expression unreadable as her hands slide slowly down your arms. The city sprawls below, millions of lives in motion while time seems suspended in this office, the usual boundaries of professional conduct dissolving with each second that passes. "A reward?"

Tashi's laugh is low and rich, vibrating through the small space between your bodies. "No, this is a test," she murmurs, her lips ghosting over the sensitive skin below your ear as her hands find your waist, fingers spreading possessively over your silk blouse. "Everything with me is a test."

"And if I fail?" The words come out breathier than intended as her hands slide higher, stopping just below your breasts, her touch both a question and a demand. You can see both of your reflections clearly now – your eyes wide, lips slightly parted; her expression controlled but intent, watching your reactions with scientific precision.

"You won't," she states with absolute certainty, one hand moving to your throat, not squeezing but resting there with gentle pressure as her other hand finally cups your breast through your blouse. "Because you want this – want me – to validate that you belong here, in this world I've conquered." Her thumb brushes over your nipple, which immediately hardens at her touch, betraying your body's response to her calculated advances.

"Nnnnngh," the sound escapes your lips before you can stop it, a soft moan that seems to please her, judging by the slight curve of her lips in the reflection. Her grip on your throat tightens infinitesimally as she presses herself against your back, her lips tracing the curve of your neck while her fingers work the buttons of your blouse with practiced ease.

"Tell me to stop," Tashi challenges, her voice steady even as her actions grow bolder, your blouse now hanging open to reveal your lace bra, another extravagance you couldn't really afford but deemed necessary for your new position. "Tell me this isn't what you imagined when you stayed late tonight, knowing I'd be here alone."

The accusation stings because it carries a grain of truth – not that you planned this specifically, but that some part of you has been drawn to her power, her presence, since the first interview. "I didn't—" you begin, but she cuts you off by turning you around to face her, her hand cupping your chin firmly.

"Don't lie to me," she says, her thumb brushing your lower lip. "Not when we're like this." The intensity in her eyes makes you forget how to breathe, how to think, how to do anything but nod in acknowledgment. "Good girl," she murmurs, the praise sending an unexpected thrill through you as she leans in, her lips hovering just above yours.

When she finally kisses you, it's not gentle or tentative – it's consuming, authoritative, her tongue sliding against yours as her hands push your blouse from your shoulders. "Mmmm—!" you moan into her mouth as her fingers trace the edge of your bra before skillfully unhooking it, letting it fall to the floor alongside your blouse. The cool air of the office makes your nipples harden further, or perhaps it's the way Tashi's eyes darken as she takes in your exposed chest.

"Put your hands on the glass," she instructs, moving you back toward the window that spans the entire wall of her office. "Let the city see what I see." You comply without thinking, the glass cold against your palms as she steps back to admire you, half-naked and trembling slightly – from anticipation, from the chill, from the sheer audacity of what's happening.

Tashi circles you slowly, the click of her Manolos against the hardwood floor beyond the carpet a rhythmic reminder of her control of this situation. "Do you know how many assistants I've had in the last five years?" she asks conversationally, as though you're not standing topless in her office with your hands pressed against the window. "Seven." She stops behind you again, her fingers tracing your spine with deliberate slowness. "Not one of them had what it takes to last in this business."

"What… what makes you think I'm different?" you ask, trying to maintain some semblance of the professional confidence that secured you this position, even as her hands slide around to cup your breasts from behind, her thumbs circling your nipples with maddening lightness. Your head falls back against her shoulder as pleasure ripples through you, your reflection in the glass showing a version of yourself you barely recognize – wanton, needy, completely at her mercy.

"Because you're still talking back," Tashi chuckles, the sound rich with appreciation as one hand abandons your breast to slide down your stomach and under the waistband of your skirt. "Even now." Her fingers find the damp heat between your legs, separated from her touch only by the thin fabric of your underwear, and you gasp at the contact, your hips instinctively pressing forward seeking more pressure.

"Mmmmnngh," you groan as she traces circles over your most sensitive spot, her other hand still teasing your nipple while her teeth graze your earlobe. The juxtaposition of the cool glass under your palms and the heat of her body behind you is dizzying, creating a sensory overload that makes it impossible to think beyond the pleasure building with each deliberate stroke of her fingers.

"Tell me what you want," Tashi demands, her voice husky but still commanding as she presses herself against you, the silk of her blouse soft against your bare back. "I want to hear you say it." Her fingers pause their movement, hovering just where you need them most, the frustration making you whimper.

"I want you," you manage, your voice barely recognizable to your own ears, breathless and needy. "Please, Tashi, I want you to touch me." The use of her first name feels like crossing another boundary, but she rewards you by slipping her fingers beneath your underwear, finding you wet and ready for her.

"Fuck, yes," you moan as she slides one finger inside you, her thumb continuing its torturous circles. The reflection in the window shows her watching your face intently, cataloging every reaction, learning what makes you gasp and shudder. "More, please… Aaahnn—!”

"So polite," she murmurs against your neck, adding a second finger and curling them in a way that makes your knees buckle slightly. "Even when you're begging." Her free hand moves to your hip, steadying you as she establishes a rhythm that has you panting, forehead now pressed against the cool glass as pleasure builds with each thrust of her fingers.

The telephone on her desk rings suddenly, the harsh sound jarring in the quiet office, but Tashi doesn't even flinch. "Let it ring," she says, her pace unfaltering as her fingers drive you closer to the edge. "Nothing is more important than this moment right now." The possessiveness in her voice sends another wave of arousal through you, the idea that you've captured the full attention of a woman who juggles billion-dollar deals and commands boardrooms full of men twice her age.

"I'm close," you warn, your hips moving in counterpoint to her thrusts now, chasing the release that hovers just out of reach. "Tashi, I'm going to—nnnnngh!" Your words dissolve into a moan as she curls her fingers again, pressing against a spot inside you that sends lightning through your veins.

"Come for me," she commands against your ear, her voice the same one she uses to close deals and crush competitors, and somehow that's what tips you over the edge. Your climax crashes through you in waves, your inner walls clenching around her fingers as she continues to stroke you through it, drawing out your pleasure until you're trembling and gasping for breath.

When you finally come back to yourself, Tashi is slowly withdrawing her hand, turning you to face her with an expression of satisfaction that borders on smugness. "That's what I wanted to see," she says, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear with surprising tenderness. "You, completely undone."

You're still trying to catch your breath, aware of how you must look – half-naked, flushed, lips swollen from her kisses – when she steps back and straightens her blouse. "Get dressed," she says, her professional demeanor sliding back into place as she moves to her desk and picks up her Mont Blanc pen again. "The Davidson portfolio needs your attention, and I expect those reports on my desk by 8 AM, sharp."

The abrupt return to business leaves you momentarily stunned as you gather your discarded clothing, the lace of your bra scratchy against your sensitized skin as you redress under her occasional glances. "Yes, Ms. Duncan," you finally respond, falling back on formality to regain some equilibrium in this drastically altered dynamic.

Tashi looks up from her work, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "And schedule yourself for a late dinner with me tomorrow night," she adds, her tone making it clear this is not a request. "We have much to discuss about your... professional development." The double meaning hangs in the air between you, a promise and a threat wrapped in one perfectly delivered line.

As you leave her office on slightly unsteady legs, the weight of what just happened settles over you along with the realization that nothing about this job will be what you expected. The rules have changed, the stakes have risen, and somehow, standing in the empty reception area with the taste of Tashi Duncan still on your lips, you've never felt more alive in this cutthroat world of high finance and higher ambitions.

The digital clock on your desk blinks 8:17 PM in green fluorescent numbers, a reminder that time continues to march forward even when it seems to stand still. You gather your things, knowing sleep will elude you tonight as you work on the Davidson portfolio and replay every moment of what just transpired in that corner office thirty stories above Madison Avenue. One thing is certain as you press the elevator button and watch the numbers descend – your 1987 has just become infinitely more complicated and infinitely more thrilling.

#𐔌 . fwaist ! ౨ৎ #✦ ⌇ elowyn writes !#challengers #tashi duncan #tashi duncan x fem!reader #challengers fanfiction #oneshot #challengers oneshot #tashi duncan fanfiction #1980s au #wall street 80s #★┊cinnamoncunt .ᐟ

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maisen13 · 6 months ago

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Seven days Seven different positions

Gojo Satoru

seven days with seven different positions, you are married to gojo so good luck surviving does seven days. he has a big breeding kink as well because i said so(:

You had just gotten home from a stressful day at work. One of your coworkers had called in sick, leaving you to handle your entire shift at the convenience store alone. Being Monday, it was also restock day, and everything had to be completed before the end of the day. Your legs were sore, and your hands were covered in small cuts.

It was late, a little after 8 p.m. You were sure your beloved boyfriend, Gojo Satoru, was already home by now. Also known as CEO Gojo, he ran one of Japan’s most renowned and wealthiest companies. He had begged you to move in with him after you were almost robbed outside your old apartment. If Satoru hadn’t been nearby that night, who knows what could have happened. Now, you lived with him in his penthouse.

The penthouse was a significant upgrade from your tiny apartment, and it had taken some time to adjust to the size and luxury. Though you didn’t need to work anymore—Satoru made that clear—you still wanted something to keep you occupied. But after days like today, the idea of retiring at 26 sounded more and more tempting. The thought of relying solely on Satoru was comforting in a way, though there was always a small voice in the back of your mind warning you about the possibility of him leaving. So, you had made a small plan: you’d agree to “retire” either when he put a ring on your finger or a child in your belly.

You’d been with him since college, long before he inherited his father’s position as CEO. The love you shared was unwavering, and right now, all you wanted was to collapse onto his warm chest and sleep like a baby until one of you had to return to work.

The cold winter weather collided with the warm air form the house as you opened the door to the penthouse. Inside the air warmed your frozen body and filled your nose with an inviting smell of the sweet gingerbread and hot chocolate waiting to be made. “Satoru, I’m home,” you called out, your voice tired but relieved to finally be back.

The house was unusually quiet. Where was he? The bathroom?

“Sweetheart, I’m in my office,” his familiar voice called out, echoing through the hallway.

You shrugged off your winter coat and boots before making your way toward his office, your footsteps soft against the polished floors. The door to his office was already open, a silent invitation for you to enter.

His office was a cozy space, with a brown wooden desk and a sleek black chair. A few bookshelves lined the walls, and a comfortable-looking couch sat across from his desk.

“Hi, honey. How was your day?” he asked, looking up from his work with those piercing blue eyes. Many people found his gaze intimidating, but not you. All you saw in those eyes was pure love.

You trudged over to the couch and let yourself fall face-first onto it, groaning into the cushions.

“It was awful,” you mumbled. “The girl I was supposed to work with called in sick right before her shift, so I had to handle the entire eight hours alone. And it’s Monday, so I had to restock everything too. My hands are full of cuts.”

You felt a pair of warm hands on your back, making you jump slightly before sitting up.

“Haha, didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, crouching to your level. You looked up at him, and your heart skipped a beat. How could he always look this good? He was like something hand-sculpted by the gods themselves, with his white hair, flawless skin, and striking blue eyes. He looked like a child born of pure beauty and elegance. How someone as ethereal as him could love someone like you was still a mystery.

“Does my sweet girl want me to take care of her?” he asked, squatting in front of you. His eyes sparkled like starlight.

“That depends on what kind of ‘care’ you’re talking about,” you replied, your voice tired but teasing as you poked his nose with a finger.

Before you could pull your hand away, he grabbed your wrist and kissed it like a gentleman, making your heart flutter like it had the very first time he did something like this. Even after years together, he still had a way of making you feel like a giddy teenager.

“I could provide you many different was to care for you, number one” he got up and did a silly little dance “ I make you a nice warm bath and washes your hair for you” he spun around and wiggled his hips “number two I massage your feet and back and cuddle you with a hot cup of chocolate” now he was jumping left and right with his hands in the air forming two peace signs “or number three” he stopped and looked directly into your eyes with a smirk on his face “I make sure to make sooooo much love to you allllll night so all that stress and troubles that your stupid job gives you is all forgotten in the morning” he winked at you while biting his lips. You couldn’t help but laugh. He was ridiculous sometimes, but it was one of the reasons you adored him.

“Hmmm… maybe I’ll take all of the above,” you replied with a grin, standing up and running a finger down his chest before hooking it around his neck.

“I’ve got the perfect idea,” he said, his hands finding your waist as he pulled you closer. His thumb began drawing circles on your hip.

“You see,” he started with a mischievous glint in his eye, “I overheard one of my employees talking about a little challenge: seven different positions over seven days.”

You raised a brow at him, looking up through your lashes. “Seven days straight? If we do that, I’ll be sore from you, not my job.”

“Then let me make it easy for you,” he whispered, tilting your chin up with his fingers. “What if you don’t work for the next two weeks? Test out the ‘housewife life’ and see if you like it.”

You looked at him with a playful glint in your eyes. “Hmm… so I’d be your perfect housewife without a ring on my finger? I don’t know about that, baby girl.” You winked at him, making his grin widen.

“Calling you my wife might just awaken a new kink of mine,” he teased, leaning down to kiss you. His lips were warm and soft, sending shivers down your spine. Butterflies fluttered wildly in your stomach as his tongue slid into your mouth, exploring you with an intoxicating passion. Both his hands travelled down to your ass squishing it, Before you knew it, his hands had slipped to your thighs, lifting you effortlessly. Your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively.

“Let’s take this to the bedroom,” you whispered against his lips, breathless.

“First position… missionary!” he declared with a cheeky grin before carrying you off, giggling all the way to the master bedroom.

He threw you on the bed with a big smile on his face. “Should I eat you out or only finger you? Hmm?? What do you want pretty girl?” Your stomach fluttered with the thought of having him in between your legs, eating you out with his eyes pierced into yours. “I wouldn’t mind having you use your mouth for something better than just yapping” his eyes sparkled at your comment.

“Anything my girl wants she gets” as he said this, he downed between your legs with his headfirst. He started pulling down your pants and then your panties. Your folds were glistening with arousal. Before you could even think about closing your legs with embarrassment, he licked up you folds before he twirled his tongue around your clit. He had just begun and you where already seeing the galaxy in your eyes.

His tongue took its time to swirl around your clit before one of his godly long fingers pushed its way inside of you. You gasped and your eyes were filling with tears, shaking hands found its way to his white soft locks. Blue eyes meet yours and your orgasm crashed into you without any warnings.

He lifted his head up from between your thighs, nose down full of arousal. “I don’t I can every get tired of your delicious pussy” his thumb cleaned up some of the release before he stuffed it into his mouth again. He did this while holding eye contact with you. Hands covered your eyes from embarrassment, but they were quickly pushed away.

“New challenge! Keep your eyes on me sweetheart. I want you to look into my eyes as I fille you up:3” he started unbuttoning his baby blue dress shirt, you took this as a sign to strip of your sweater. He got up from the bed and went to the bathroom that is connected to your bedroom, his condom layer was there. On his way back with the treasured condom he striped out of his black pants and boxers.

“Let me put it on” you said siting up as he handed you the XL condom. “Really? Chocolate flavoured?” you said looking up at him with a grin on your lips. “What? Am I not allowed to buy tasteful condoms?” he said with an innocent look on his face. “Sure… but shouldn’t I decide on what to get? Because I’m the one who must taste it?” a pout formed on his lips at your comment. “What is the fun in that?” he said as your fingers pulled down the condom on his dick.

You rolled your eyes “Just don’t buy a disgusting flavour” he pushed you down again and crawled over you “I can’t make that promise sweetheart” he pushed your legs apart and rubbed the tip against your entrains “You have already bought disgusting once, haven’t you?” he pushed in the tip making you gasp and grab his shoulders. “maybe” a big smile was glued to his lips as he watched you struggle with only the tip.

“It’s so cute when you struggle” you glared up at him while breathing heavy. “Shut up, it’s your fault for being aghh so big” you tossed your head back as he pushed in more. “You shouldn’t say that sweetie to a guy with an already big ego, fuck because it will only make him, ahh you’re so tight, fuck you harder”

Your nails dragged over his shoulder as the pain of him pushing in hit you even more. “I’m almost… halfway in sweetheart” you looked down to see if he was joking or not, and to your horror he was right. “h-how? I can feel nghh you in my throat” saying that had been a mistake, for when you looked up Satoru he had a big grin on his face. A grin that you knew well would not end well for you. “Oh sweetheart~ you are making it difficult for me to not fuck push it all in. the look on your face when I do nghh that is always such a beautiful sight”

He pushed the rest of the half in making you moan out loud. The feeling was intense as his dick was not very small. “Ahhh you idiot, t-to much” your nails dig even deeper into his skin leaving behind red angry marks. “Oh, common I know you love it” he smirked at you with a playful glimmer in his eyes. He gave you some merci and stood still for a bit, until he started moving his hips.

His lips found you neck leaving behind purple and blue marks in his wake. His hips moved fast against yours making levied noises. “S-Satoru… nghhh” you heard him grown against your neck before he lifted his head and looked at you. His eyes shined with a mix of love and lust. You could feel one of his hands travelled form your hip to you leg lifting it above his shoulder giving him better space to go even deeper.

He was going faster and faster making it hard for you to even breath. The light in the bedroom was low as you looked at him above you. Satoru looked like an angel, even with sweat dripping down his forehead. If wings had come out from his back wouldn’t have surprised, you. Even if he were an angle, he was your angle, and he make sure you would always know that.

“Fuck you look so pretty dumb on my cock, the bump on your stomach that forms with each trust” his hand held down on your stomach felling himself inside of you, making you cry out in pleasure. “You like that huh? Seeing the bump on your stomach, I can make it stay… nghh fill you up… nice and good f-fuck. You like the thought of that right? I can feel the way you clench around me sweetheart” his fingers went form your stomach to your clit stimulating it with the same speed as his fast trust. “Seeing you all round and plump with my child god” you could feel him twitch inside of you. “Please let me fill you up… baby… need too…”

You were so gone in the pleasure he was giving you so you could only node. “No no no sweetheart... I need words nghh” he was going in a brutal pace not giving you an easy time to talk “y-yes yes p-please nghhh Satoru~” before you could even register it, he pulled out and dragged off the condom and pushed inside and continued his inhuman speed. “You’re such a good girl. My good girl”

Him saying that straight into your ear made you fall over the edge, where only he could capture you. you moaned his name like a repetitive song on the radio, until you felt him to reach his peek. His lips crashed into yours as he filled you up and rode out your highs before, he collapsed onto you. “You’re too good for me” he breathed heavy burring his face in your breast.

“you’re too heavy” you complained as you played with his soft sweaty hair. He turned around making you lay on top of him. “Happy now? I sure am, can’t wait to continue this tomorrow. What should we do then? Hmmmm….” He thought about it. “Ahh how about me taking you from the back??? Doggy???” you flickered his forehead making him pout. “Oww, you wounded me my love” he buried his head in your hair sulking like a puppy. “You are to horney for your own good you know” he raised his head and looked at you with a smirk.

“We only had one round you know, and all this talking about me being horny is waking Gojo jr. again” you rolled your eyes before sitting on top of him. “I still have some more frustration to get out so I don’t mind a few more rounds, of course if you can handle it my love” you winked at him making him grin from ear to ear, his hand found your hips holding you stabile. “Ohho bring it on darling, let see how long I can last your ruthlessness”

#jujutsu kaisen smut #smut #fanfic #female reader #gojo satoru #gojo smut #jujustu kaisen #jujutsu gojo #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk gojo #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk smut

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pawnshopbleus · 1 month ago

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These Are the Days Chapter Fifteen - A Night in Paris

Abby Anderson x Fem!Reader High School au

For the summary, warnings, and more, please visit here.

previous chapter.

One thing American high schools are notorious for is their school spirit. Bellevue High is no different. Homecoming week is in full swing. Gaggles of students participate in the spirit days, and many dress up for today's theme: heroes vs. villains.

It felt weird not being able to participate in her last homecoming. Abby had spent the last handful of years with half of these people, and she wouldn’t have the privilege to celebrate. She tried to convince herself that she didn’t want to go. That homecoming was just a social construct and that it didn’t matter, but that wasn’t working. As she looked around at everyone making plans to get ready together and where they would meet to watch the game, she got that weird feeling in her stomach. That feeling that made you yearn for the years spent playing with Barbies and soccer balls. Looking around felt like the final nail in the coffin that was her childhood.

With the way her eyes lacked their usual sparkle, you could sense something was up. You didn’t have to ask because you already knew. Abby wanted to participate in homecoming. She loved this school and some of the people in it. You knew there was nothing you could do to convince Principal Servopoulos to let Abby participate in the events this week, but there were some things you could do to make your girlfriend feel better.

Planning a surprise for Abby proved to be harder than you thought. The two of you spent most of your free time cuddled up in your bed or watching movies in your living room. You never noticed just how much time the two of you spent together. Time seemed to pause whenever you were with Abby.

Like any other Monday night, Abby was cuddled up next to you, her head nestled onto your chest. She could hear the soft thump thump thump of your heart beating in your chest. The closeness brought her comfort. Like when a mother holds her newborn baby for the first time.

“Abs?” you ask.

She hums, eager to hear what you have to offer.

“What if we make our own homecoming? We can do things all over Seattle to celebrate the beginning of the end.” Abby furrows her brows in concentration. This was an idea she wouldn’t have come up with on her own. She had been too busy moping around to realize that there were solutions to her problem.

“I like that idea,” she says.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Tuesday evening, you and Abby were standing inside of an art exhibit that could only be described as enchanting. There were hundreds of fine china pieces littering the walls. Small ornate details adorned them. If your mother were here, she would have surely died of happiness.

You’ve never seen your mother happier than when she went shopping for things she didn’t need. She would spend thousands on imported dishes right from the source. Each piece of porcelain goods would sit untouched in a cabinet, daring you to touch it. At the age of five, you gave into the impulse and used one of the dishes for a tea party. All your stuffed animals and Barbie dolls were gathered around the fine china, ready to indulge in the plastic croissant laid out in front of them. Little did you know that your parents had gotten home early. Their footsteps were so light on the stairs that you didn’t hear them making their way upstairs, but you did hear your mother's screech as she reprimanded you for using her priceless China.

Abby squeezed your hand, bringing you out of your daze. She dragged you out of the porcelain room and into another exhibit. Impressionism art was by far your favorite. It blew your mind that some blotches of color on a canvas created a work of art so stunning and captivating that it forever changed how art is created. Impressionism symbolized change.

When Abby came into your life, you were still reeling from your move to Seattle. You missed the sand in between your toes and the ocean view right outside your bedroom window. The suburbs of Washington were still new to you. Picturesque homes surrounded by trimmed hedges and perfectly manicured lawns. There were sidewalks that had virtually zero cracks in them, and potholes on the street were nonexistent. All those things felt foreign to you, but when you first laid eyes on Abby, it felt as if this was the place where you needed to be. She showed you that home is where the heart is. She was your impressionist painting. She forever changed the way you loved and viewed yourself. She showed you that change is not always a bad thing. It can be gutwrenching and beautiful at the same time.

Seattle is cold at night. Despite this, you have Abby’s car window rolled down. The city lights bleed into the night sky as Abby cruises down the street. Siri gives directions mere seconds before the action occurs, giving her a headache. In the corner of her eye, Abby watches as you doze off. Your soft snores bring a small smile to her face. The fact that you feel safe enough to sleep while she's driving does something to her. Before meeting you, she had never wanted to protect someone like she does for you.

Abby pulls into your driveway and silently slips out of the car. She unbuckles your seatbelt and gently takes you into her arms. This isn’t the first time she’s carried you bridal style up to your bedroom, and it certainly won’t be the last. All that time lifting weights in the gym has paid off, as you virtually weigh nothing in her arms.

She stays by your side until you stir awake some fifteen minutes later to the sound of Abby's phone ringing.

“Hello?”

Abby had accidentally put her phone on speaker. The piercing sound of hundreds of high school students cheering and screaming came through on the other side of the phone. The unmistakable voice of Ellie came shouting. “We won! We finally won a fucking football game! Owen got kicked off of the team, and we won.”

Abby lets out a laugh of unmistakable joy. The sound of her laugh was so melodic that even Snow White would be envious. You gazed at your girlfriend as she relished the fact that her ex-boyfriend was getting everything he deserved.

“It’s like he was a curse or something,” Abby says.

The phone call lasted for another five minutes. Once Abby finally hung up, she screamed out into your open window, temporarily silencing the chirping crickets that came out at night. This scream wasn’t one of pain or agony. It was a scream of joy and revenge. Everything Owen had done to Abby was coming back to him tenfold.

“You seem happy,” you say, your voice coming out groggier than expected.

Abby didn’t say anything as she looked out into the night sky. The breeze coming in shook your curtains and kissed her skin. You felt goosebumps forming on her exposed arms as you came up next to her.

“That bitch is getting everything he deserves,” she whispers loud enough for you to hear it.

You hum in agreement. After everything she went through, Abby finally saw that the grass was greener on the other side. Out of all the people she chose to trust with her heart, she chose you. That is one of the biggest compliments you’ve ever received. You’d never forgive yourself if you betrayed her trust. You’d stick by her side no matter what.

Abby’s bright eyes twinkle like the stars above her as she looks into yours. You feel as if the two of you are magnets, overcoming the effects of gravity in order to be close to each other. Her lips are on yours, and yours are on hers. She tastes like the chapstick she keeps in her front pocket. She is sweet and rugged. She is your everything

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Abby felt selfish. Keeping you all to herself right now when you could be out dancing and partying with your friends. The homecoming dance was tonight, and here you were, watching another 80s horror movie on the TV that was older than the both of you. Abby tried imagining what kind of dress you’d wear, what hairstyle you’d do. Maybe you’d try some glitter eyeshadow and a lipstick that matched. Abby sighed and pulled you closer to her.

Abby was never good with words, but she would describe this feeling as regret. She didn’t regret beating up Owen. In fact, she was never prouder of herself than in that moment, but she did regret bringing you into this mess. You didn’t deserve any of this.

The movie credits roll, and you walk over to the stack of DVDs in the corner of the living room. “Killer Klowns from Outerspace or Hellraiser?”

“None,” Abby says.

You open your mouth to say something, but Abby beats you to the punch. “We should do something else.”

“We could go get dinner and then ride the Ferris wheel again?”

Abby shakes her head. She wants to do something reckless, something that she’ll regret in the morning. So many people say that ‘you only live once,’ but they continue to live their mundane suburban lives. No one really treats life like they only live once. No one really lives life like they might die tomorrow. Abby needs this. She needs to feel free.

“Let’s go crash the homecoming dance.”

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Getting a last-minute homecoming dress proved to be harder than you thought. Every single store in the mall was sold out of any dress you were interested in. You and Abby walked up and down the first and second levels, trying your hardest to find something to wear. Shop owners yawned and watched as you skimmed their racks minutes before closing. No matter how many times you closed your eyes and hoped that the next shop would have a dress that was just right, your prayers would go unanswered.

You dragged your feet out of exhaustion. There was only one store you hadn’t checked. It was nestled into a dark corner of the mall. You rarely see people come in or out, yet there’s this strong pull that’s making you walk towards it.

You push the beaded curtains to the side and gasp at the array of dresses on display. How could you just skip over this store? In your final hour of need, this store was there to save you. You run your hands along each and every piece of fabric in front of you. In the corner of your eye, something caught your interest. A beautiful dress that was baby pink in color with pearls and rhinestones adorning the bodice. The glittery skirt would brush up against the back of your thigh. You run your hands up and down the dress. It was perfect.

Abby, on the other hand, was having a hard time finding something. This store was great. It was filled with so many options, but she couldn’t find anything. She didn’t want to wear a dress, but she didn’t want to wear a suit. She wanted something simple and elegant. She rummaged through layers of dresses and suits. She was getting tired of this repetitive routine. Dress, suit, dress, suit, dress, suit, but then her hands stopped. She felt as if her prayers had been answered. At the very end of the rack lay a simple white jumpsuit, long enough to cover her ankles yet short enough so that she wouldn't trip over her own feet.

“Can I help you?” A lady asks, making Abby’s heart jump out of her chest.

“I’d like to pay for my girlfriend and I’s items.”

“I can pay,” you say out of nowhere.

Abby knew that you liked recklessly spending your parent's money, so she wasn’t going to argue with you.

The lady beckons the two of you to follow her to the register. There was something mysterious about her. Maybe it was her monotonous voice or the dark aura that followed her.

The dress and jumpsuit cost three hundred and fifty dollars and seventeen cents. You had no problem swiping your parents' credit card. You also had no problem rounding up your purchase to support a good cause.

Back home, you excitedly drag Abby to your bedroom. Despite her protests, you finally convinced her to let you do her makeup. Growing up with just her dad made exploring her femininity a little difficult. After trying to teach her how to use feminine products after her first period, he gave up and settled on making her a sports star. Abby loved her dad, but sometimes she wished she had a mom.

“Close your eyes,” you whisper.

The eyeliner pencil was mere inches away from her top lid. Abby follows your instructions and closes her eyes, trusting you enough not to poke her eye out. These past few weeks were hectic, to say the least, so having you take the lead brought her a sense of comfort and relief. She lets you work your magic on her face, your hands expertly using products more expensive than her car to enhance her features.

When you were done, you guided her to the bathroom mirror. You smile, pleased with the work you have done.

“You look beautiful.”

Abby’s eyes widen at the sight in front of her. No matter how many times Owen had begged her to wear makeup, she never gave in. Now, here she was, eyes lined with gold shimmery eyeshadow and black eyeliner, cheeks stained, and lips covered in nude lipstick. She looked like a totally different person.

“You’re magical,” she says with a smirk on her face.

You do your own makeup in less time. You opted to match your eyeshadow with your dress. Pink eyeshadow, black liner, mascara, blush, and lipstick that matches your skin tone are applied to your face. You looked glowy and ethereal, and you didn’t even have your dress on yet.

You decided to skip a dress reveal as you wanted to get to homecoming before it ended. You looked at the analog clock on your wall. You still had three hours before the festivities were over.

Abby revved up her car and sped off to the school. She was usually a very safe driver, but tonight was the night for rebellion. She sped through residential streets and avoided getting pulled over by a cop.

Within minutes, the two of you were sneaking around the perimeter of Bellevue High. You felt like Catwoman when she stole the pearls belonging to the late mother of Bruce Wayne. You could hear music pumping out from the gym. You took a mental note to thank whatever fool left the back door to the gym open. You and Abby shimmied your way into the gym and into the sea of students on the dance floor.

The homecoming theme was a night in Paris. The cardboard cut out of the Eiffel Tower was laughable as the paint was chipping, and the string lights attached to it had two bulbs that weren’t working. The only redeeming quality of this whole dance was the fact that the ceiling actually looked like the night sky. Whatever magic was performed must have been straight out of Hogwarts: A History.

The DJ was playing the hottest hits of the decade. The fast-paced tempo makes you sway your body from side to side, feeling the music. Sweaty teenage bodies jumped up and down and glided side to side. Then, the music slowed down. Shy students grumbled at the change in pace, secretly hoping that their crush would ask them to slow dance. With their hearts broken, they slowly vacated the dance floor. You looked around, suddenly aware of how exposed you were. As if sensing your discomfort, Abby pulled you close to her and wrapped you in her embrace. Her arms felt like home. Her skin is soft as a feather, and her arms are as hard as a rock. Your bodies melted against each other as you danced to the music. Abby’s grip on you didn’t waver even after the slow song ended and another pop song came on. She guided you to the corner of the room, giving the two of you a break from the dancing.

“That was fun,” you said.

“That was more than fun. It was perfect.”

“You’re so corny,” you laugh.

“Says you.”

Your banter slowly died down. Your silence was filled with the sound music and people chatting. People-watching has become one of your favorite hobbies. It allows you to look behind the curtains of someone's life. The girl wearing vintage Dior has a father in prison for credit card fraud, the boy wearing a suit too small for him comes from a family that can barely afford to put food on the table, and the girl in the blue dress is wearing her sister's old dress from her own high school homecoming. Our differences make us human, and that’s the beauty of life. You squint your eyes, much to your optometrist's dismay, and smile.

“That’s Dina.”

You drag Abby over to the other side of the room. Dina nearly tackles you when she sees the two of you.

“What are you doing here? I thought you guys were barred from participating in any activities.”

“We snuck in,” Abby says matter-of-factly.

Dina makes you follow her to the table, where Ellie and Jesse are engaged in a heated discussion. You could make out a few words over the thumping of the music. Dina grabs the two of them by their upper arms and drags them out of their seats. Ellie and Jesse look at her, perplexed.

Dina just nods and says, “Follow me.”

Too scared to disobey her, You, Abby, Ellie, and Jesse follow Dina to the photo booth. You hold onto Abby's hand as you’re ushered into the space that’s way too small for all five of you. The robotic voice in the machine shouts the countdown as you strike pose after pose. The camera's flashing temporarily blinds you, but it is quickly corrected after a few blinks.

The photo strips were spat out of the machine seconds after you walked out. The first photo was filled with smiles, then funny faces, and the last photo almost made you tear up. Abby was looking down at you while you smiled right at the camera. It looked like the kind of picture your future children would swoon over. The look of admiration Abby had on her face was like none other. You have never seen someone look at their partner the same way Abby looks at you. You felt like the luckiest girl in the room.

The music dies down as Principal Severopolus makes her way on stage. At this point, you had forgotten that you weren’t supposed to be here. Your heart sank to your stomach, and you squeezed Abby’s hand. She squeezed yours back, reassuring you that everything would be okay.

“Students, I hope that you are enjoying yourselves. Tonight is a night of celebration and forgiveness.” Her eyes meet yours, and you definitely feel your body freeze over. She finds Abby next to you and smiles. “It’s a night of romance and good news. Speaking of, in this envelope, I have the homecoming royalty results.” Students start slapping their thighs, providing Principal Severopolus with a faux drum roll. “Dina Woodward and Jesse Chang.”

Confetti fell from the ceiling as Dina and Jesse were ushered onto the stage by Ellie, who was smiling from ear to ear. Dina and Jesse were renowned as some of the smartest and nicest people in school, so it was no surprise to you that they were homecoming king and queen. Students cheered and clapped as your friends were crowned. Up there on that stage, they looked like actual royalty.

As the confetti fell and glided down to the floor, you felt content in life. Even though your life has just started, you have everything you have ever wished for. Unlike your parents, the people in your life truly cared for you. They showed you that love isn't neglect. It’s tender and special. Love is planning a last-minute surprise birthday party after knowing you for a few months. Love is helping you adopt a pet to help you feel less lonely in your home. Love is risking everything just to see you happy. Love is Dina. Love is Ellie. Love is Jesse. Love is Abby, and God, did you love Abby.

tag list: @rew1nds, @colbyweirdo, @mylettterstoyou, @lez_zuha

I hope you like the last chapter of These Are the Days. If you'd like, I can write a little epilogue detailing where the characters end up in my mind. I hope you liked my versions of Abby, Ellie, Dina, Jesse, Owen, and Mel.

I want to thank all of you for reading. I can't believe it took me all those months just to write fifteen chapters, but I am glad I pushed myself to finish this. It was my little passion project after high school, and I am glad you all decided to stay with me for this long. I'm happy with the way the last chapter turned out, and I can finally see my writing starting to improve. I apologize, as there wasn't really a plot or substantial conflict. I also wish we had seen more of Mr. Miller. I had an idea that maybe we could reveal that Ellie was adopted by Mr. Miller, but that didn't work out. Also, in the beginning planning stages, I had a chapter where Owen made up a rumor that the reader and Mr. Miller had a thing (it's weird, I know) but i am glad that also didn't work out. Maybe I'll write something about Professor Miller because a teacher x student in high school is weird to me, even if the reader/character is a 'legal adult'. Any and all constructive criticism is welcome, as this is something I want to do professionally.

Once again, thank you for reading These Are the Days and I hope you have an amazing life.

#abby tlou #lesbian #abby the last of us #abby anderson tlou2 #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson #abby x reader #the last of us part 2

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shadowedoracle · 3 months ago

Text

A Valentine's for Mr. Gold

Summary: In a cursed Storybrooke the town Grinch Mr. Gold visits the Storybrooke Library on Valentine's Day.

Rating: G

A/N:

Happy Fluffapalooza! Or Skin Deep Day! Which ever term you prefer.

I am one of the most cynical people about Valentine's Day you'll ever meet. But apparently that didn't stop my brain from coming up with this. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Oh also FYI, this is set one year before the events of S1. It's not really relevant. But just FYI.

[AO3]

***

If Mr. Gold had to say why he hated Valentine’s Day, he would have said there were three main reasons: 1. The rampant commercialism made even the mercenary business owner in him cringe; 2. It was the date his ex-wife had walked out on him and their five-year-old son two decades ago; and 3. It had been the date of the car crash that had taken his son from him and left him the crippled husk of a man he was today.

So he did not acknowledge that February 14th was any different from any other day. He did not sully his shop by making a holiday display or changing his hours (not that he did that for other holidays either) and he most certainly would not give discounts or loan forgiveness to those who had overspent their means to impress the object of their desires. In fact, he added a hefty fine to those who tried to use Valentine’s Day to justify any late payments on their loans. Everyone in the town knew he was -- as he’d heard Ruby Lucas once say (along with a load of expletives) -- ‘A Grinch’ but that didn’t stop a number of them every year thinking their sob story of a romance or broken heart would stop him fining them.

Normally on Valentine’s Day he’d head straight home, drink as many glasses of whiskey as he could stomach to drown thoughts of the shoebox in the attic with handmade valentines ‘To Papa’. But this year Valentine’s Day fell on a Monday which was library day. And nothing would come between him and library day. Not even Valentine’s Day.

Monday had been library day ever since Miss French had become the town librarian what felt like forever ago -- but could only have been several years at most. Mr. Gold didn’t need to go to the small town library for his reading needs. He had a very well-stocked library at home. But… Miss French was the only intelligent person in this town he could have a conversation with about books (or anything for that matter). She was shy, but very charming and he couldn’t resist going back week after week; letting her pick out new books for him to discover.

When he opened the library door he stopped dead. The library was covered in chains of red paper hearts draped from the ceilings. He strongly debated turning around and walking out but Miss French had already seen him and waved cheerfully at him so he moved reluctantly towards the large wooden Circulation Desk.

Miss French was dressed in a simple blue dress that brought out the color of her eyes and those eyes sparkled up at him as she grinned at him and she took his finished books from him. “Not a fan of the decorations, Mr. Gold?”

“No,” he said through gritted teeth -- although whether they were gritted so he wouldn’t comment on the decorations or her dress or her eyes he couldn’t say.

“It’s not really my thing either -- well, Valentine’s Day, that is -- it’s too superficial and too commercial for my liking,” she said as she scanned his books back, placing them on the trolley beside her. “But a holiday is a good excuse for a children’s craft project -- that’s where most of the decorations come from you know. Plus it means I can put up special quick-pick displays and I love putting those together.” She smiled as she paused for breath, after her somewhat gabbled speech (not that Mr. Gold minded that -- he was no conversational maestro either). She leaned forward towards him and said, conspiratorially, “Guess what I did this year?”

Despite himself he couldn’t help leaning forward in response. “What?”

“I took a copy of each Jane Austen novel and wrapped them in paper covered in hand-made Valentine’s wrapping paper. Then wrote descriptions such as ‘Mystery Enemies-to-Lovers Epic Romance’ on each of them to get people to check out something different.”

Mr. Gold laughed (Miss French was the only person capable of eliciting his real laugh). “So you’ve been tricking Storybrooke’s residents into improving their reading palates?”

“Well…” She blushed, Mr. Gold studiously ignored how it nicely it brought out the color of her lips, “When you put it like that I almost feel bad.”

Of course she did -- Isabelle French was goodness personified, whereas he was the opposite. That was the reason why, despite being tempted, he would never act on his attraction nor give any indication of it. There was no chance in the world his attentions would be welcome. If he said something, she’d reject him and then he’d have to stop going to the library and seeing and having these little chats with Isabelle French. He couldn’t -- wouldn’t -- do that. So instead he just quashed his feelings down and allowed these weekly interactions to be enough.

“You shouldn’t. Feel bad, I mean,” he said softly.

“That’s kind of you to say.”

He shrugged, schooling his face to give no indication of how her words affected him. “It’s just the truth.”

They stood there in silence for a few moments while Miss French bent to retrieve his new books ones from under her desk. “I hope you’ll like these,” she said. “They’re not quite your usual fare but I think you’ll like them based on what you’ve enjoyed previously.”

He looked at the books wrapped in newspaper -- at least she’d known better than to use Valentine’s wrapping paper. “Are you sure you’re not tricking me into reading Jane Austen?” She giggled. “No! Besides you’ve already read all her books and I’m pretty sure you own your own copies of them. I just thought surprise might be fun.” She blushed.

“I see.” He allowed his lips to curl up slightly. He couldn’t be annoyed at her. Not now, not ever. Besides, he trusted her taste. Her recommendations were always interesting, even when they took him outside his comfort zone. He stared at her wanting to stay there longer to open the package and see what she’d chosen for him but there was the sound of footsteps behind them and he became painfully aware they weren’t alone anymore. He didn’t want to be caught acting like a love-struck idiot with Miss French so he picked up the wrapped package with a nod and left the library.

He had meant to walk home directly from the library. But the temptation to find out what Miss French had chosen for him was too strong; so he let himself into the back of his stop and, after fumbling with the lights, tore open the package.

There were two books inside and something sticking out in between them. He didn’t even glance at the titles before pulling out a square envelope, ripping it open he stared down at the obviously handmade card with a wobbly drawing of a heart on the front. Opening the card up, he read:

Dear Mr. Gold,

Happy Valentines Day! I know you probably think it’s stupid and don’t celebrate but everyone ought to know there are people in this world who care about them.

Your friend,

Isabelle x

P.S. You don’t read much poetry but I like this collection poems about love-- it covers a lot of different eras with many different poets and many kinds of love. The novel is The Left-Hand of Darkness by Ursula K. Le Guin. You told me you’d never read much Sci-Fi/ Fantasy and this is a modern classic for a reason. Let me know what you think of these books next week.

P.P.S. The Card is an example one I made with the schoolchildren. Please excuse how poorly drawn it is.

Mr. Gold stared down at the card, and in particular the little ‘x’ after Miss French’s name. Maybe his feelings weren’t so one-sided after all. Should he go back and tell her how he felt? No. No. That was insane. He couldn’t risk that. Besides, she was probably just being kind. She’d used the words ‘care about’ not ‘love’ and she had probably meant it in a friendly way not a romantic way. He was not someone anyone -- but especially someone as perfect as Isabelle French -- could love. But perhaps it was enough to know that someone out there saw him and didn’t turn away in disgust, but rather cared.

As he locked up his shop again and headed for home he felt a lot lighter and reflected as he walked that perhaps, Valentines Day wasn’t so bad after all.

#Rumbelle Fic #Fluffapalooza #Fluffapalooza 2025 #Rumbelle #Shadowedoracle's Fic #My Fic #Fic: A Valentine's for Mr. Gold

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ladykailitha · 2 years ago

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Royal Pain Part 16

Hello, darlings! I wanted to get this to you before I got too busy and forgot. My birthday is on Monday and I'm having a party on Saturday that I'm preparing for today, tomorrow, and most the day Saturday. I hope to get something out during that time, but I might not be able to get it up until Sunday.

Also I found out I was accidentally tagging @chaoticlovingdreamer twice! I don't think it did anything, but it was funny it took me this long to catch on!

Speaking of tagging, it used to be easy to tag from a copied list, just click on name, select drop down, move on to the next. But for some stupid reason I can't anymore and have to delete the last character in their username to get it to pop up. Is anyone else having this problem or is it just my life deciding to make it more difficult again?

Today for your enjoyment: communication, drunk Robin, and soulmate bonding!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15

***

Eddie crowed inside when Steve blushed at his comment. “And for record, sweetheart, I could see us tangled in your sheets. Not just the hot sex but everything before and after. All I’m asking is to take it slow.”

Steve gulped. “I’ll go at whatever speed you need, Eds. Honest. You set the pace.” He gave Eddie’s hand a squeeze. “And if you change your mind tomorrow, I’m down for that, too. If you decide we’re better as friends, I’ll be your best friend, okay?”

Eddie smiled. “I think Jeff and Robin might take offense to that.”

Steve laughed. “Nah, nah, Robin is my platonic soulmate, that’s separate from best friend.”

Eddie grinned. “I guess Jeff is more like family then a best friend. All the guys are.”

“There you have it,” Steve said smiling at him, merriment sparkling in his eyes.

They walked hand in hand all the way the way to the Rainbow High Club. They were forced to let go to flash their IDs, but they stayed close to each other, blushing and smiling at each other every time they caught the other’s eyes.

Chrissy’s eyes lit up. “How have I never heard of this place?” she asked, trying to take in as much of the sights as she could all at once. “It’s amazing.”

“Who’re the DDs tonight?” Robin asked, gleefully rubbing her hands together.

Steve, Gareth and Mandy all raise their hands. Eddie pouted.

“Stevie, you’re not drinking tonight?” he whined.

Steve laughed. “I’m working on your tattoo tomorrow, sunshine. I am not working on you hung over.”

Eddie cocked his head to the side. “Yeah, that’s fair.”

Now that Eddie and Steve knew where they stood with each other, that last barrier of tension vanished between them. They were laughing more freely. Touching more readily. Just having a blast knowing the potential for more was there waiting for them when they were willing to take that step.

Steve knew where the line in the sand was now and cranked up the charm to eleven. Just being a gentleman.

Eddie ate up the attention like a sunflower in summer following the sun. He felt that last bit of worry just clatter to floor like a chain coming off of a worn gate after so many years being locked away.

Jeff and Mandy ate it up on the dance floor, pulling Gareth with them as they got the shyer man to come out of his shell a little bit.

Brian even managed to get the DJ to play a little metal. Steve sipped on a Coke and laughed as he watched his friends get silly on the dance. He had barely finished his drink when Robin grabbed his hand and led him to the dance floor.

He cussed her out but she just kissed his cheek and told him to move his hips for fuck’s sake.

His dancing was terrible, but he let himself join the crowd and sway to the beat.

Eddie said in his ear, “You know in ‘Pride and Prejudice’ being a bad dancer meant you were bad at sex.”

Steve snorted. “Seriously?”

Eddie nodded. “So you know I’ve got to ask...”

“No, trust me when I say I tango better in bed than out of it,” Steve said with a giggle.

“You got receipts for that, big boy?” Eddie asked, dropping his voice low, startling a gasp out of Steve.

His giggle turned into a full on laugh. “You want a list of my very satisfied exes?”

“And their phone number,” Eddie teased back. “If you’re going to win me over Casanova, I’m gonna need references.”

“I think I can handle that,” Steve said in total seriousness.

Eddie pushed him away, a laugh stuttering out of him. “Get off, you menace. Jeez!”

Steve backed up, giving him the space. “You started it.”

“Sorry I forgot you were Mr Charm Everyone’s Panties Off in high school,” Eddie said rolling his eyes.

Steve chuckled. “I’ve still got it, I just don’t date much because I have to run a shop.”

Eddie leaned back in. “And honey, I’ve got nothing but time.”

Steve grinned.

At the bar a blond man with legs for days and a cocky grin leaned against the edge of the bartop with his elbows. Ink peaked out of the black tank top he was wearing and he had piercings in both ears and a snakebite piercing on his lower lip. He lowered his sunglasses as he watched Eddie and Steve on the dance floor. His bright blue eyes glittered with malice, the grin never leaving his face.

Steve got a giggling Robin up the stairs to their apartment and into her bed. He pulled off her jacket and shoes and rolled her under the covers. She made grabby hands at him when he stood back up.

“I’m going to get ready for bed and I’ll be right back,” he told her.

She pouted, but let him go.

Steve made a mad dash to his room, where he threw on his pajama pants and a faded band tee and rushed back to Robin’s room.

“Where you go?” she asked with a frown.

He shook his head and climbed into bed with her. She immediately latched to him like some kind of possessive sea creature. Like a an octopus or a barnacle.

“Why did you surround me with pretty girls?” she wailed. “All the pretty girls all at once.”

Steve snorted. Mandy and Chrissy were not ‘all’ by anyone’s stretch of the imagination.

“Mandy has a boyfriend,” he gently reminded her.

“Did you know she did ballet?” Robin whisper-yelled. “That’s why she has such long legs and great tits.”

“Yes, I was there when she told us,” Steve soothed.

“And Chrissy was athletic, too!” Robin continued. “Cheerleading is scary hot.”

Steve huffed out a small laugh. “What does that even mean?”

“The...” she made a weird motion with her hands, “and the woo...” she threw her arms in the air, “and the ‘yay!’ That’s scary.”

He rolled his eyes. “The tumbling?”

Robin hit his arm over and over. “That, that! Yes. And the hot is the uniform. Have you seen the uniform?” she growled.

Steve laughed. “I was in basketball, yes. You know one of the two sports that has cheerleaders?”

“The skirt is itty-bitty,” she slurred, putting her hands together as close as they would go without touching. “And no sleeves! Bare midriffs too. And and the cute little socks!”

“Can’t forget the cute little socks,” he agreed.

She slapped his arm again, this time harder. “And don’t you dare try to change the subject. I see you.” She pointed at her eyes and then at him, nearly poking his eye out.

“I didn’t change anything,” he muttered, “you started talking and haven’t stopped.”

“I saw you run the bathroom after the concert, gig, thingy...” she frowned. “What is it called the every day one not the tour-y one?”

“Gig,” Steve said gently.

Robin slapped his arm again. “Don’t change the subject!” she hissed. “You got hella horny watching your boy sing!” She threw out her arms and did hit him in the face that time.

“Yes,” he agreed. “I will be better prepared next time we go.”

“You have the hots for Eddie,” she said leaning in close.

But before Steve could answer, Robin was out cold. Her low tolerance for alcohol knocking her out at last. He carefully untangled himself from her embrace knowing that her drunken snoring would be like a buzzsaw in his ear if he slept in her room.

He pulled his shirt off and slipped into his own covers a smile on his face.

The next morning he had coffee and the greasiest breakfast sandwich he could find ready for his platonic soulmate when she staggered out of bed and into the kitchen. He handed her a small glass of water and painkillers, which she took under his watchful eye.

“I feel like I should hate for this,” she muttered into her steaming styrofoam cup.

Steve grinned, knowing full well that if laughed, she would straight on murder him and he really didn’t want to go yet.

“Also, don’t think you dodged the talk about you rushing to the bathroom after the show,” she grumped. “Because that was a bit pervy even for you.”

Steve rolled his eyes as he chowed down on his own less greasy sandwich. “I was totally unprepared for how hot he was that close up,” he snarked.

Robin raised an eyebrow. “He did seem particularly out to get you with that little number he was wearing last night.”

“Seriously,” he agreed. “But I’ll know better next time, plan ahead, sit behind the table.”

She giggled.

He propped his head on his hands, elbows planted on their counter. “But enough about that. I want to talk about two lovely blondes making goo-goo eyes at each other all night.”

She pushed his arm causing him to almost smack his face into the counter as he lost the support.

“Shut up,” Robin hissed. “She did not make goo-goo eyes at me all night. I would have noticed.”

Steve laughed. “I noticed you didn’t deny making goo-goo eyes at her.”

She blushed, and took a sip of her coffee to hide her embarrassment. “She’s so pretty and smart and how I am suppose to win her over when she so far out of my league.”

Steve came over and grabbed both of her cheeks in his hands. “Robin Eloise Buckley you are just as beautiful and smart and talented as she is. Just in a different way. I know right now you’re feeling morose because you have a hangover. So trust me in this moment, you are every bit as awesome as she is and if she doesn’t see that then we say?”

“Fuck that?” she whispered.

“I don’t think I heard you,” he said cocking the side of his head so he could tilt his right ear her direction.

“Fuck that,” Robin said with more conviction.

“There you go,” he said and gave her a fierce kiss on the forehead. “Now what I want you to do while I’m gone is watch the ‘Pride & Prejudice’ mini-series with that tub of Ben & Jerry’s I know you’ve been saving and when I’m done I’ll grab Chinese from that favorite shop on the corner, okay?”

She set the coffee down and gave him a fierce hug. “You’re the best soulmate a girl could ask for.”

Steve squeezed her back. “Hard same.”

She laughed. “You are such a dork.”

“Yes, but I’m your dork.”

***

Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Epilogue

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk @renaissan-vvitch @goodolefashionedloverboi @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @plyerice27 @thedragonsaunt @sapphirecobalt-1@a-little-unsteddie @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @itsall-taken @justforthedead89 @emly03 @bookworm0690 @aizawa-emma @redfreckledwolf @thesuninyaface @bookbinderbitch @yikes-a-bee @littlewildflowerkitten @scheodingers-muppet @archermightbegay @hallucinatedjosten @ellietheasexylibrarian @anne-bennett-cosplayer @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @bestwifehaver @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @oldwitcheshat

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #tattoo artist steve #ladykailtiha writes

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aspenmissing · 2 years ago

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𝚂𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝙰𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚕𝚢 𝚁𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚍 (𝙿𝚝 𝟷)

Hunk is asleep in bed, snoring. He's wearing yellow pajamas and is covered by a blue blanket. Suddenly, an alarm blares and Hunk screams, falling out of bed and landing on his stomach. He groans and tries to stand up, but his legs get tangles in the blanker and he falls asleep again as the door automatically again. Shiro, in full Paladin outfit, does push-ups in his room.

"Everybody up!" Allura shouts over the loudspeaker. Shiro looks to his left and begins to stand up "Zarkon's attacking!" Shiro runs out of the room as the doors automatically open and close behind him. Lance lays on his bed in a pale blue pajamas and covered by a navy blue blanket. His face is covered with a green facial mask and his eyes hidden by a black sleep mask. Headphones over his ears, which blocks out the alarm. Y/N, who is also in full Paladin uniform, is sat on the floor of her room, cross legged. Her eyes are closed and she meditates. Soul is sat in front of her, doing the same "The ship's coming closer!" Y/N opens one eye before standing up, picking Soul up and runs out of her room. Keith is sat upright in bed as he examines his knife "The Castle's about to be destroyed!" Keith gasps and throws off his blanket, jumping out of bed and grabbing his jacket - running out. Pidge was sleeping in the room with the healing pods, rover hovering beside him. Until Allura started shouting over the loudspeaker again. Pidge jumps awake, Rover besides him. "Go, go, go! We need Voltron now!" Pidge jumps up and rushes out of the healing room, Rover by his side

"Hurry! We can't survive much longer!"

" You've got to sell it a little bit more" Coran takes the speaker from Allura; clearing his throat "Oh, no! Allura is dead! Aw, it's horrible! Her head fell off! Wait! What? Her severed head is trying to speak to me! What is it, Allura's head? What are your final words?"

"Coran"

"Oh, yes, Princess, I'm listening"

"It's over" Allura says sweat dropping. Coran turns around, still on his hands and knees.

"Oh, I know! If only Voltron had been formed" He continues. He looks over noticing the Paladins, excepted Lance. He jumps up "Oh! Time!"

"I guess this isn't an actual attack." Shiro says. Pidge rubs his eyes.

"And it's a good thing it wasn't because it took you... Coran?" Allura says, looking at him.

"Seventy-five degrees. Oh" He says as the "Timer" dings "Sorry. No, this is a meat thermometer"

"However long it was, it was too long. You must always be ready to do battle with Zarkon. Look at you! Only Shiro and Y/N are in uniform. But Y/N doesn't have her helmet. Keith, Pidge, Hunk, where are you bayard? And where is Lance?"

"Keith, Pidge, Hunk, where are your bayards? And where is Lance?" Allura said. The door behind the group and Lance enters wearing a Blue and Yellow dressing gown, Blue Lion slippers and a mug in hand. He yawns.

"Good morning, everybody. What's going on?" Lance said, and his face sparkled. He walks over to them.

"Coran and I have been up for hours getting the Castle back in order. We had to run a test on the alarms, and we decided to test you as well. Guess which one failed." Allura said.

"Hey!" Hunk yawns "You got to sleep for 10,000 years, man. Monday night, I was on Earth. Now, I've flown through space, fought some evil alien named Zarkon, eaten goo in some weird castle." Hunk counts "That's a lot to process in, uh... I-I don't know. What day is today?" Hunk continued.

"It's the third quintant of the Spicolian movement. Hump day!" Coran answers.

"It's a lot to process." Hunk says.

"You must understand the stakes of our mission" Allura brings up a map of the universe from the Castleship's computer and displays the amount of distress beacons "Over the last 10,000 years, the Castle picked up distress beacons from the following locations." Allura says."So, we have to assume that Zarkon has conquered almost the entire known universe" Allura moves the map to the Milky Way where is appears barely out of Zarkon's reach "Earth is here. An attack on your planet is inevitable"

"Oh, no..." Hunk said.

"Exactly. Our mission is to free all those planets. Coran and I are getting the Castle ready to leave Arus. During that time, you have to learn to form Voltron, so we can begin fighting Zarkon." Allura said.

"The Princess is right. Let's get to our lions and start training." Shiro said. Pidge turns to look at him.

"Wait. But I want to talk to the prisoners we rescued from the Galra ship." She said. Coran puts his hands as the size of Pidge.

"Ah, negative, Number Six! I have you ranked by height, okay? The prisoners need to remain in the cryo-replenishers until tomorrow"

"That's right. Now get to your Lions. The Paladins head to their Lions, donning their armour before traveling by zip-line. Hunk's zip line stops.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. What's going on? What's going...?" Hunk falls from his own weight and the zip-line continues without him. Hunk slides down the shaft slowly "Aw, come on. You've got to be kidding me" The Paladins jump through a hole, landing on their speeders that take them to their Lions. Hunk is late to arrive and drop from the zip-line hole, so his speeder takes off without him. He groans in frustration.

Outside the Castle of Lions, the other Paladins wait for Hunk.

"...Should someone go in after him?" Lance asks.

"Let's, uh, let's give him a moment" The Yellow Lion finally arrives.

"Hey, sorry, everybody. Seriously, though, can't they park these things, like, a little closer to the bridge?" He said. "

All right, guys. Let's just fly in tight formation until we're totally in sync" Shiro says over the comm. Allura appears on Shiro's screen.

"Feel the bond with your lions and your fellow pilots until five become one unit and you form Voltron!" The Lions take off, flying in sync.

"Yeah...!" They all shout "Yeah...!" They do the formation again "Yeah...!" The Paladins become less enthusiastic "...Yay..."

"Whoo. Am I the only one who's still pretending to be excited?" Hunk said. Everyone has a tired look.

"Clearly, this isn't working. Let's set down for a little bit." Shiro says.

"Maybe we should be building Voltron from the ground up." Keith said.

"What do you mean?" Shiro asked.

"I mean, let's try literally building Voltron, like, stacking on top of each other." Keith answered.

"Like a cheerleader pyramid?" Lance says.

"You got a better idea?" Y/N says.

"It's worth a try"

The Paladins stack their lions on top of each other. The Blue and Green Lion on the bottom with the Red and Purple Lion on top of them, facing the side. The Black Lion stands on top of them and the Yellow Lion is at the top.

"Hunk, what are you doing?" Shiro sweatdrops

"What do you mean?" Hunk asks

"You're supposed to be the leg over there" Y/N says.

"What? No. No, no, no. I'm pretty sure that when we did it last time, I was the head. Right?" Hunk said.

"You yelled, 'I'm a leg!'" Lance says.

"Yeah, I was yelling a lot of things." Hunk says/

"Shiro's the head." Keith says.

"All the time?" Hunk said.

"Let's just try it my way for now." Shiro said.

"Okay, but next time I call head." Hunk said. The Paladins stack the Lions properly. The Blue and Yellow on the floor, the Red, Purple and Green Lion on top of them, all facing the same way.

"Okay. Arms and legs... and I'll form the head" Shiro carefully hovers the Black Lion above the others until it stands on top of Pidge, Y/N and Keith's lion's "Feel the bonds with your Lions. Now, channel your energy into forming Voltron. Focus...Focus" Everyone has their eyes closed. Nothing happens "Is everyone bonding and focusing?" Shiro asked.

"Why was this so much easier before?" Lance asks. Shiro sighs.

"Let's take a break" Allura appears on everyone's screen from the Cammand Room.

"Sorry to interrupt, but I may be able to help. Yesterday, you weren't able to form Voltron until you were in the heat of battle." She said.

"Yeah" Pidge says.

"I'm listening." Lance says.

"You're right." Shiro says.

"You've got a point" Y/n says.

"Yeah, I guess" Keith says.

"Perfect. Because I need to run a diagnostic test on all of the Castle's defences. This should help!" Allura said. The Castle of Lions fire blasts as the Paladins.

"This can't be good" Y/N says. The Paladins are then bombarded with fire blasts and they scream and flee.

"Okay, go, go!" Lance shouts.

"Allura, what are you doing?" Allura smiles at Keith from his screen while he's running from explosions.

"Running a diagnostic test on the Castle defences and inspiring you! I believe in you, Paladins! Let fear be your guide! Form Voltron!" She said excitedly.

"Oh, forget this! I'm heading back to the Castle!" Lance says. He pilots the Blue Lion towards the Castleship, dodging the attacks, but is thrown back by the particle barrier. Hunk dodges the bombardment.

"Please stop! Please! Have mercy on us!" Hunk cried. Allura appears on Hunk's screen.

"You think Zarkon is going to have mercy on you? He's probably on his way right now to destroy us all!" Allura says.

"Auto-lock-on engaged"

"Uh oh" Y/N says. The Castle of Lions auto-fires at the panicking Paladins.

The Paladins, except Shiro, lay exhausted on the couches of the Castle Lounge. Allura and Coran enter.

"Are we at full power on condenser number five yet?" Allura asks, looking down at a device.

"No, still just 84 percent." Coran answers. Allura looks up and sees the Paladins.

"You did it! You formed Voltron!" Allura says. Lance is laying down, taking up a whole seat. Hunk has his arms up on the back of the couch. Y/N is layed across the couch, her back bending with the shape of the couches, faced down, feet in Keith's lap. Soul rubbing her bruised head. Pidge and Keith are sat upright, Keith having his arms crossed.

"No. The shooting stopped and the particle barrier shut down, so we just flew in." Keith says.

What?" Allura asks. Coran looks at her, wide eyed.

"Oh, right. Uh, sorry, Princess. I had to turn off the Castle defences to test the fire suppressors." Coran says. Y/N lifts her head, looking to Coran.

"Thank you Coran. Thank you" She says, placing her head back down on it's side. Shiro enters and they all look at him.

"What are you guys doing in here? We're not taking a break." He says.

"Shiro's right. You should be training." Allura said.

"We've been training. When are we going back to Earth? " Hunk sasks.

"I'm not going back until I find my family." Pidge says, leaning forward.

"Guys, there won't be an Earth if we don't figure out how to fight Zarkon." Shiro said. Lance sits up.

"How are we going to fight? We can't even figure out how to form Voltron." He said.

"Well, I'm not surprised. You know, the original paladins fought hundreds of battles together, side-by-side. They were like a pack of yalmors linked at the ears." Coran said.

"Wow. Yeah, that's definitely not us." Lance said, and laid back down, putting his foot on the back of the couch.

"During the last attack, your survival instincts forced you to work as a team, but that will only get you so far. You'll have to become a real team to have any chance of forming Voltron and then beating Zarkon next time" Everyone looks to Coran "You should try working out on the training deck." Coran said. Y/N lifts her head, pushing herself up with her arms.

"There's a training deck?" Y/N says.

The Training Deck illuminates; Coran clears his throat to check his microphone as the Paladins are standing on the training deck in a circle.

"Two, two, one, two. Okay, listen up guys. The Paladins code demands that you put your team members' safety above your own. A swarm of drones is about to attack. It's up to each of you to do everything you can to protect the other members of your team" Altean drones appear; Keith, Pidge and Y/N form shields.

"Wait, wait, wait. What's going on?" Hunk says as his shield forms "Whoa. Did you guys get one of these?" He said. Lance and Shiro form shields.

"Get ready" The Altean drones fire lasers. Hunk dodges and Pidge is struck, dropping into a hole that opens up underfoot.

"Hunk your supposed to protect, not duck" Y/N shouts, putting her shield in front of her face as a fire laser shoots at her.

"Protect your teammates or no one will be there to protect you!" Coran said. Hunk then went down. Y/N, Lance, Shiro and Keith huddle back-to-back to defend themselves "Time to increase intensity" The drone fire becomes rapid.

"You keeping up over there, Keith?" Lance said.

Just concentrate on keeping me safe" Keith said.

"Me? I own this drill. You're the one who needs to concentrate" Lance says. The drones fire at their heads. Shiro, Y/N and Keith dodge, but Lance is distracted and does not. He lifts his foot to avoid being shot, and Keith is shot instead, disappearing into the floor. Y/N takes Keith's place.

"Really Lance!" She shouts. Lance tried to defend Y/N and Shiro but it struck himself, leaving Y/N and Shiro who stand back-to back.

"You good shiro" Y/N says.

"Yeah, you" He replies.

"Good" Shiro doesn't notice the drone to his left so Y/N shields him, leaving her back open. She gets shot and the floor beneath her opens and she falls. Shiro, being the last one left, has no way of protecting himself and shortly ends up struck. He falls through the hole in the floor. Coran facepalms but continues to the next test: an invisible maze. Lance stands inside the maze.

"To form Voltron, you must trust each other. This ancient Paladin maze will teach you that trust. Your teammate can see the walls, but you cannot. So, listen carefully. If yo touch the walls, you'll get a slight shock" Lance puts on his helmet.

"Wait. Who's guiding me through?"

"Take two steps forward" Keith says through Lance's helmet using a microphone.

"Oh, no. Not Keith. Why does he get to be the man on the mic?"

"Now, just sit tight. You'll get your turn"

"Like I said, take two steps forward, turn right, and take three steps that direction" Lance only turns right and hits a wall, getting shocked.

"You did that on purpose!" Lance says, looking up at Keith.

"You're not listening"

"You said, 'Turns right'"

"But, before that, I said, 'Take two steps forward"

"Two steps--" Lance steps in the wrong direction and gets shocked again "We're switching places right now!" Later, it was Y/N and Pidge's go. Y/N was in the maze, while Pidge was guiding her.

"Turn left, three steps forward. Stop!" Y/N does so "Back 1" Y/N moves back "Turn left then 2 steps forwards then make a left turn then 3 steps forward" Pidge says. Y/N follows the guide.

"Nice teamwork you two, no wonder the Green and Purple lion have such a good bond, they trust in each other" Coran said with a smile. Y/N looks up at Pidge, smiling.

"I guess we do, huh"

#Voltron #Reader Insert #Voltron Fandom #Voltron Fanfiction #Fanfiction #Keith x Reader #Keith Kogane x Reader #Voltron Legendary Defender

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lilypotter6457 · 3 months ago

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It’s Just A Ride

Adopted By Ride The Cyclone

Previous Chapter | Master List | Next Chapter

Chapter 10 - London

Y/N's POV

Sunday

We got off the plane and through customs, now sitting in the provided hotel room. We had today, which is Sunday to relax and then after that it'll be busy busy busy.

We start off on Monday - Wednesday with rehearsals for the Olivier's show, at the theater of the awards. Then on Wednesday-Saturday matinee id be performing in Into The Woods, Thursday morning my manager told me I also have a fitting thing for an outfit to wear to the Olivier's. Saturday night would be dress rehearsal/tech for the Olivier's, then Sunday was the awards, Monday evening I performed in Into The Woods, then on Tuesday morning we leave and go back to NYC.

We had been relaxing for a little bit then decided we'd go to get food and just walk around, as there was not really anything else to do.

We started by going to a local bakery place, which is where I would stop and get food during my main run. We then walked around seeing destinations, a few times needing to take cars but that's ok.

We had gone to Buckingham Palace, Big Ben and Tower Bridge (driving over it). And a few other things as well before calling it a night and going back to the hotel.

We ended up chilling and I turned on Once Upon A Time. Overall it was a pretty relaxing day.

Monday

I got up early, by my alarm clock and got ready for rehearsal.

I put on a black leotard, with leggings overtop and a light green crop top over top. I also wore my black and white vans. I grabbed the rehearsal bag I brought from home out of my suitcase and put inside my notebook and laptop for school work, had a few final projects to do as I couldn't take the final since they only do them in school. I also packed my water bottle. I added my Into The Woods Script, and shorts in case it got too hot. Along with my water bottle.

*for the visuals, imagine black & white shorts as well, and choose either water bottle or imagine something else*

Me and Kholby, who had gotten ready as well, then headed down to the lobby and out to the rehearsal space, aka the theater of the awards.

We stopped at the same bakery place to grab breakfast before heading off to rehearsals.

It was the Into The Woods cast, we were running through a few different numbers to make sure our spacing and such would be perfect. Today we were gonna work with vocals, tomorrow spacing, then Wednesday going full out with everything.

So we sang for about three hours then got a break, I did my school work during this time. Kholby helped me with a little bit of it and then I ate something for the 'lunch' hour we had. The we did more vocals for about 2 hours then started with some of the physical stuff for tomorrow. After about 1.5 hours of physical work we were finally done for the day.

Wednesday Evening

I had arrived at the theater at 5:30pm, for a show at 7:30pm, went back to my old dressing room and did what I used to always do. Though it felt nice to be doing familiar things, it still felt weird as I hadn't done it in a while.

I did the show, felt good to be doing more actual performing and not rehearsing.

After the show I signed a few autographs and did pictures before heading back to the hotel with Kholby, he said the show was good which helped with the nerves of this week.

Thursday Morning

I met up with my Manager at 9:30am, outside of a nice building, which is where the designer had her studio.

Inside I was taken to try a few things on that had been prepared, we'd decided to go with a maroon color because I played Little Red but we didn't want it to be a lot with the red carpet so we chose darker. They also put something together for Kholby while my manager was going to wearing a business outfit, a black medium length dress.

After numerous attempts at different looks and such, we finally came up with something. We then did hair and accessories and such.

Landing on a look with a cute hair piece, silver heels, maroon sparkle dress, earrings and a necklace. It was cute.

Kholby was given a Navy Blue suit with a maroon tie, he was slaying.

We finished off the meeting then I went off for a lunch break then show.

Saturday Night

We arrived at the theater and everyone was there, we did mic check and some sing throughs. Some basic choreography fixes and then we had to do some press stuff for the social medias and stuff.

It was exhausting but didn't actually take as long as I thought. We were also given free food which kinda helped.

After the about 2.5-3 hours I got to go home and sleep, not ready for the stress of tomorrow.

#adopted #ride the cyclone #broadway musicals #kholby wardell #into the woods #jane doe #noel gruber #ricky potts #misha bachinski #karnak #ocean oconnell rosenberg #constance blackwood #x reader #fanfic

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danbisroom · 8 months ago

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Ep. 26 (Half 52) - We’ll Bask In The Shadow Of Yesterday’s Triumph

Hello my beloved fellow souls,

welcome back to Danbi’s Room, your weekly dose of safe space. Go grab a cup of something warm and get yourself cosy.

I hope you got to see a lot of beautiful things in the past two weeks. I hope you had the energy to slow down and look fondly at the positive that will come into your present if you let go of of the negative past. Don’t look back in anger my loves.

I’m sorry, in the end I failed you and ended up being absent for two weeks. I…was a bit sick last Monday and Tuesday and I couldn’t really keep my eyes open…forgive me.

I was thinking about a concept I’ve seen floating around in the past few months, which is that we get to a certain point in life, sooner or later, where we lose all contact with our own perception of life; we become disconnected from reality, alien to the present moment. Anxiety kidnaps our body and soul and we’re deprived of the magic which had been surrounding us. We don’t shine anymore even if deep within the Sun is still inside us.

Now we’re like inside a black hole, we’re swallowed up by darkness, As I’m not a physicist I’m not gonna delve into the specific properties and characteristics of black holes but there’s two things I find particularly fascinating. First of all we don’t actually see black holes: we can observe their silhouette through the “light” emanated by the deadly fate the celestial body around them meet.

That, at least in my view, directly leads me to the second object of my fascination: eye pupils. Black holes absorbing light engulfed and defined by jagged colours unique to each and every one of us. I’m not gonna get too deep with this, it’s just yet another reminder that “as above so below; as below so above”. It’s a very practical and substantive quote. As always what surrounds us and what constitutes us are one the mirror of the other. In my opinion that does add the sparkle of magic back, the magic of the small things: if the cosmos is magical so are our eyes, so is whatever they gaze upon. Everything shines, so shine and laugh and be wild. Embrace and welcome all the facets of the diamonds adorning your skin, all of the layers of your luscious petals. Bask in what others might call delusion but to you it’s the truthful vision of dreams, suggested to you by the gentle whisper of the sea breeze. Look at the Moon and bathe your hair in her silver rays while loving shadows caress your head. Free yourself of perfection ‘cause it doesn’t exist and, most importantly, it doesn’t matter at all. To be honest, as far as I’m concerned, I’m not very fond of symmetry. Given that perfect symmetry on a face is physically impossible there are still many faces around which are fairly symmetrical. Might be ‘cause I love drawing portraits but lopsided faces are so much more beautiful to me. So much more charming. They tell stories. A smile tenderly curving towards the right side of a visage lovely followed by downwardly slanted eyes, paused by a crooked nose decorated by messy curly hair…I’m always going to choose that over everything else.

Maybe you learn to love faces the way you learn to appreaciate food from different cultures and new genres of music. New art. You just need to domesticate yourself to it until you find the key of the immense amount of love you can pour inside of it. Something that completely changes your life and your outlook. Sometimes you don’t even notice its light making its way in your soul like a stream but one day you wake up, you feel it and you just have the sensation of being fuller and lighter and you start seeing colours again. Like good news after a year of numbness.

It might seem impossible but I can guarantee it’s possible. Miracles happen all the time and when they do we must be ready to see them, so we can go to the triumphs of our childhood and lay our bare feet on the soil again.

Today song recommendation is Shine On You Crazy Diamond by Pink Floyd. It’s a favourite of mine and it’s beautifully evocative in all of its parts. Just lay down and spoil yourself with 25 minutes of bliss.

I hope you enjoyed this episode and that you have a beautiful week ahead of you!

I’ll see you in the next one, big hug!

With love, yours,

Danbi

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superblysubpar · 2 years ago

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NOBODY LOOK AT ME NOBODY BREATHE IN MY DIRECTION NO ONE SAY A GOD DAMN WORD TO ME THE REST OF MY LIFE WHICH IS OVER BECAUSE I ACTUALLY TURNED INTO GOO

Thank you so much Carol I somehow hate you and love you cause this everything. Better than anything I could have even imagined 😩 I'd seriously copy and paste the whole thing but I can't 💛 (I mean I essentially did but nobody fucking say a word about it cause it deserves it. Bite me.)

"Weather app lied, street cleaning, forgot an umbrella," you shrug, "Just another manic Monday, y'know?"

Readers outfits?! I'm in love with her who is me who is- also poor girl 😩 also also top tier references throughout.

"Caramel latte, hint of cinnamon. Since its -- ya know, fall officially, I put a little maple in there, too."

Big BIG fan. Huge. 💛

"Thanks," he says, hood coming down to reveal a head full of thick chestnut hair. A gold ring shines on the the hand that runs through it, looks like a family crest type, right on his middle finger.

I said "oh my god" out loud, just so you know

You get to the break room, pointing out the spare cubby where he can hang his coat and umbrella. He's in a sweater you swear you've seen on the Cosby Show -- dark green and patterned, a perfect combination of colors against his skin. It cuffs at the wrists, you can see a sliver of his white t-shirt underneath at the collar, a whisper of a gold chain tucked beneath it.

You're a sick sick sick woman for describing this. SICK CAROL. Also never stop. Steve lives in dark green sweaters from now on and I don't wanna hear shit from anyone.

"I didn't ask if it was on the menu. I asked what you drink," he says, leaning back in the chair. His eyes lingering on you sends a zip up your spine, wondering if he's giving you a once over or not.

"It's a caramel latte with maple and cinnamon," you tell him. His confidence both intruiges and enrages you, both making you want to tell him to get out but also learn more about this hot guy that wants to be a barista with a Wall Street handshake, "So why do you wanna work here?"

"Gross," you pull a face at him over your shoulder, "Don't call me honey."

HA. I snorted. Like we don't like it just like Rochelle.

"You're on fire this morning," he smiles, that smile they write about.

"Hey," he calls out, waiting for you to turn around before he continues. Your eyes catch his amber ones, sparkling with a mischief reserved for school boys who are mean to the girls they like, "You look nice today."

You look him over, sucking in your cheeks to kill the smile growing on your lips. His navy sweater hugs a bit across his chest and shoulders, giving way to billow slightly over his midsection and arms. Kahki chinos cut just at his ankles so his sneakers don't even look stupid paired with the outfit, socks just the right height to look cool and not forced. Awful.

"Like...I don't know, idiots in love who are too stubborn to love each other."

"Hm," he nods again, grin splitting his face, "Interesting."

"What's your favorite book?" you ask, wanting to wipe that smug grin right off his face. His dumb handsome face with that perfect sloped nose, and eyes that look like they're looking directly into you.

You thrifted the sweater with Steve in mind, it looked like something he'd wear.

Anyway.

Hahahahaha I literally actually laughed out loud. Carol are you in my house right now???????

"Redecorating?" he asks, looking around the cafe. Under his shearling lined aviator jacket is an open hunter green flannel you wouldn't expect to see him in, his white t-shirt underneath hugs tights to his chest and stomach. You unfortunately noticed how great of a view that is for you.

No like actually, we need to discuss if you're in my house and brain? Where are you, this is...listen. I don't even...listen. also I cackled at the chopping down a tree comment.

Maybe you should've been a kindergarten teacher -- or maybe not. Maybe you should just keep doing book events.

You look up at all the hands, an enthusiastic 'Wow!' coming out of your mouth -- but you barely hear it. Behind the hands are a set of warm amber eyes looking at you from the coffee bar, soft and gentle. Enthralled even. You swallow and lick your lips quickly before smiling, catching his smile back as you look back at the book to start again.

*looks over shoulder in her own house and whispers: I know it's not your real name but...Carol? Are you there?*

The tip jar is full to bursting because nobody knows how to make a single mom feel like Steve Harrington does; and husbands will pay anything to get him to leave their wives alone.

I hate him 🙄🙄🙄🙄

You take it body first, reaching around for the handle only to feel his fingers brush against yours at the hand of. The soft touch isn't electric like it is in the books, it's like that but better. Warm like an oven, the gooey parts of you rising in a slow bake when you see him look down and turn away -- running that same hand through his hair on his way back to the counter.

Oh my GOD the yearning. THE DESCRIPTION.

"You're good at this," you blurt out, almost offended.

"Well don't look so upset about it."

"I am upset about it," you nod back over the lip of the mug, taking another sip. Mocha -- something. It's like hot chocolate and espresso but better, still caramel, still cinnamon, like a hug from your past but caffienated like your present.

Fucking, lord, I can't take this 😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩

"I don't think I have to wish, honey," he says softly, Doc Martins creaking on the wooden floors, "I think...uh, I think I must allow you to tell me how ardently you admire and like me."

The NOISE I made alone in my house. The way my face turned red and I shoved my face into the couch cushion and literally had to take a minute.

The hand he uses to run through his hair finds itself flat over the back of yours, sliding down to over your cheek and jaw where he keeps you angled just right. He closes the millimeters between you, warm lips catching yours in a kiss that feels like passion but a power play you want to match.

You let out a gentle gasp, enough to admit defeat to him -- much to your chagrin. Steve comes back up to your lips to meet you with a few final deep kisses before you break apart.

"I didn't read it," he confesses.

Hahahahahahahahaha I'm crying.

wake up slow | barista!steve harrington

entry for my fall frenzy requests this request comes in from @superblysubpar: 'there's a scenario with bookstore / library date AND a dialogue prompt that says "what are you reading?"' with steve harrington summary: it's 1990. you're on the opening shift at the bookstore you work at, only to be surprised at a newcomer claiming to be up for an interview for the open barista position in the cafe at the back. sort of put off to start, it's no surprise when things start to bloom over time, and i'm not talking about coffee grounds. tl;dr carol writes a mini romcom.

tw: minors dni, there's nothing too out of whack in this one but i still don't want minors in here. reader is a little sassy but also like, pretty normal overall.

That damn key jams every time it rains -- doesn't help that you left your umbrella at home. Doesn't help that the 'light mist' turned into a heavy downpour the closer you made it to the book store. Doesn't help that you had to park a street over because of street cleaning and had to walk a block in the rain. Now the damn key.

"Come on," you grumble, jiggling an wiggling to no avail. Insert, r-insert, slight tilt to the right, jiggle, pull out a little, turn a little left and then -- nothing. You take the key out only for it to fall to the ground with a fairy like tinkling.

"Come -- the fuck -- on," you nearly growl under your breath while your coat gets heavier and heavier with rain, hood soaking through and dripping water onto your face. You bend down to get the key with a sigh meant for people with back pain, coming back up again to see the coffee bar manager on the other side of the glass door. He chuckles, salt and pepper beared thick over his chin and cheeks. Ruddy skin beams red even in the cool grey light of the morning, 30 years a butcher who pivoted into coffee when he turned fifty and had a really good knack for it.

"Easy morning?"

"Does it look like one, Carl?" you ask, stepping in when he opens the door. He laughs again, a hearty belly laugh that might as well have transported him into a Santa suit in December. "What happened to you?" he asks, following you into the back room where you start putting your stuff in your cubby. You switch out your wet sneakers and socks for the platform loafers and knee highs in your bag. Now that the fall weathers hit, it's all corduroy and knit sweaters, circle skirts and tall socks. If you're going to be on your fifth year working at an idyllic bookstore, you might as well look the part.

"Weather app lied, street cleaning, forgot an umbrella," you shrug, "Just another manic Monday, y'know?" "I know," he nods, "Gimme one second." Carl comes back with a white paper cup and black lid that makes you smile from the inside out, "Is that what I think it is?" "Isn't it always?" he smiles, "I got it ready the second I saw you on the schedule. Caramel latte, hint of cinnamon. Since its -- ya know, fall officially, I put a little maple in there, too." "You spoil me," you sigh, taking the cup from him and letting the warmth radiate through your hands.

"I do," he nods, "But, that latte was the last of my regular milk so I need to run out and grab a few gallons before we open up. You okay to be hangin' out by yourself?"

You nod, of course you're okay to be hanging out by yourself. You take the first sip, letting the caramel flood your tongue. The maple is a good addition. You're about to tell Carl to add this to the seasonal menu but he's already out the break room door with his coat before you can. You hear the jingle of the bell and the lock of the door and eventually the silence settling into the store around you.

You start to re-organize the window display which should've been done last night but 'last night you' said that 'this morning you' could handle it. You wish you could punch last night you in the face, but this is what you get for taking an assistant manager position.

You stack the back to school reads next to your knees where you're sat on them. The dust billows when you move them, making you sneeze with each turn of your head. You rub at your eyes, realizing at that very moment that the mascara you put on this morning has now definitely smudged -- you can't even find the emotional capacity to check considering the store opens in forty five minutes. You wipe down the display shelves, letting the oak gleam under the spot lights. The color is a warm reminder of the cozy moments to come the way that they do this time of year. As you start separating the 'cozy reads' from your 'spooky reads' in the pile on the other side of your knees you hear a knocking at the door --that's not very like Carl to forget his key.

You look over your shoulder, not seeing Carl at all, and if it is, he had some kind of Seventeen Again magic happen to him in that time at the store. You stand up, wiping off your knees and straightening your skirt before getting to the door where the rapping continues against the glass. "We aren't open yet!" you call out.

"M'here for Carl!" you hear, muffled through the panes. "For the barista spot?" you yell back. The guy nods under his hood, the rain picking up in heavy sheets. You sigh, unlocking the door and letting him in. "Carl's not here, he ran out to get some more milk but um, you're welcome to wait in the break room if you want," you explain, wiping a palm over another display through the main hallway and wiping the dust off on your hip. "Thanks," he says, hood coming down to reveal a head full of thick chestnut hair. A gold ring shines on the the hand that runs through it, looks like a family crest type, right on his middle finger.

"I'm Steve," he says with a smile, hand now outstretched to take yours. You look at it and then at him, finally taking in the sight before you. Prominent straight nose, warm amber eyes, lips that definitely use chapstick regularly. He has a nice smile, the kind you read about in the romance novels in the back of the store, the kind people write about.

You take his hand and introduce yourself, he has a business major handshake and you only know that because you dated a handful of them back in college. You try to stifle a chuckle but it comes out airily out of your nose.

"Something funny?" he asks when you both let go. "No, no, sorry, I just thought of something from the other day," you shake your head, "Don't worry about it." He nods, taking off his coat and closing his umbrella following your lead to the back, "It's a cute place."

"Yeah, it's nice in the morning," you nod, "I normally close but -- doing a favor for a key holder today; so you have the pleasure of seeing the troll of the store in her natural habitat."

"What?"

"Nothing -- nevermind," you shake your head, cheeks burning with a wave of embarrassment when you look back and notice that he's genuinely very handsome. You get to the break room, pointing out the spare cubby where he can hang his coat and umbrella. He's in a sweater you swear you've seen on the Cosby Show -- dark green and patterned, a perfect combination of colors against his skin. It cuffs at the wrists, you can see a sliver of his white t-shirt underneath at the collar, a whisper of a gold chain tucked beneath it.

"Yeah um," you start, feeling your heart start to patter in your chest when he takes a seat at the table by the cabinets, "You can just wait here. I'll let Carl know when he comes back."

"Okay," he smiles, "Thanks."

You nod again, heading into the employee bathroom to collect yourself for a moment -- seeing your reflection. You forgot you had rubbed your eyes, masacra smudged in black smears nearly down to your cheeks. "I look insane," you whisper in horror, "Oh my fucking god."

You cover your face for a moment, trying to hide yourself from the embarrassment racking your chest. Definitely looking like the troll of the store, you silently scream into your palms, another dramatic whisper of, "I should just fucking kill myself."

Despite the humiliation, you know it's funny. This would happen to you. This hot guy would come in when your mascaras a mess and your hair is fucked up from the rain, when the weather is bad and your tights have a run, when your allergies are rampant from the dust. Of course he would!

You wet a paper towel and do your best to wipe off the smudges, happy to look a little less insane after a dab of tinted lip balm makes it onto your lips and cheeks.

When you re-emerge he's fiddling with his CD player and his over ear headphones, working on a knot in the wire. You go back over to the counter and take a sip of your forgotten latte.

"What do you drink?" he asks.

"Carl makes it special for me, it's not on the menu," you tell him over the black plastic top before taking another sip. He grins, a soft nod moving his hair with him -- so it's like that. "I didn't ask if it was on the menu. I asked what you drink," he says, leaning back in the chair. His eyes lingering on you sends a zip up your spine, wondering if he's giving you a once over or not.

"Is this the start of my interview?" he laughs.

"No, I'm just wondering," you shrug.

"I'm back in school about twenty minutes away," he says, "Did it for a little when I was in high school -- coffee, I mean. Ice cream shop after that, video store after that. Went to school, took a break, back in it. My dad thinks having jobs like this builds y'know -- character and whatever."

"Jobs like this?" you ask, jaw tensing with annoyance.

"Like, y'know, jobs with the people," he tries to explain, pink building on his cheeks when he realizes he might've said something shitty, "They're not like bad jobs, that's not what I mean -- I mean like, y'know -- not suits kind of jobs. Regular shit."

"Regular shit," you nod, biting back what you wanna say. That gold crest ring should've been enough to tip you off, but your next question is the ace in the hole, "What're you back in school for?"

"Getting my MBA."

Of course.

"Nice," you lie, fake smiling into your next sip -- the latte going cold as your insides when you come to the conclusion that he's just some hot grade A asshole, "Well, good luck."

"Thanks," he calls out while you make your way back to the floor, "I really like your name, by the way! It suits you."

You try not to let that compliment change your mind.

He gets the job, but you don't see him a lot. He opens an then goes to classes at night, you close most of the time -- only catching him really in the first hour of your shift and the last hour of his. You're both too busy to be finding time to talk; him with his mid-shift clean and you with your hourly sales goals and mid-day schedule re-adjustments.

But he does wave when you come in. He calls out your name when you bustle past the coffee counter and weave through the tables to get to where you need to go. It's nice of him, you guess, but the stain of him explaining that the job he's doing is just for regular people taints it for you. Maybe he thinks you're just some menial worker bee that he only knows for now, since his daddy probably has a job lined up for him once he pays through his masters degree.

Job with a suit where the bookstore will be a distant memory for him, whereas you're on a two year track to becoming the manager and likely future owner when the owners get too old to manage it. Job with a suit where he'll pass by the store and shake his head at 'how stupid it was', a 'can you believe people work there?' head toss to a coworker while he get a coffee somewhere else. Meanwhile, it's your entire life, and so are all the stories inside.

A few weeks pass and the days get a little colder, the nights starting earlier as they go. You have an opening shift that chills your bones, hugging your wool coat tight to your body while you fiddle with the key at the door, groaning at the tinkling of it hitting the concrete again.

"Rough morning?"

You look up to the door opening, seeing a pair clean white Nike Air Force 1's singaling who it is.

"It is now," you mumble, grabbing the key and bustling inside.

"Surprised to see you here," he says, following you to the back, "You're not on the schedule." "Last minute switch up, Rochelle has a christening," you say, hanging your coat in the cubby and switching out your sneakers for platfoms again.

"Oh, nice," he grins, "So why is it a rough morning? 'Cause I'm here?"

"Sorta kinda," you shrug, "Did you alread--"

"I got sales report from yesterday on the check out desk, yes," he crosses his arms, leaning against the door frame.

"And th--"

"And the inventory report, and before you ask, yes I checked that all the milk is in stock and that we aren't low on beans. I've been here for a month, honey, I know what I'm doing," he mutters.

"Gross," you pull a face at him over your shoulder, "Don't call me honey."

He shrugs with a smirk, "Rochelle likes it."

"Can you go skulk to your caffeine den and leave me alone?" you snap, "I'm trying to open a store, here."

"Skulk, huh?"

"Too big of a word for you, Harrington?"

"You're on fire this morning," he smiles, that smile they write about.

"I kinda like it," he adds before turning out of the door and back into the warm light of the store towards the coffee bar. You swallow while you watch him leave -- I kinda like it ringing in your ears and floating down to your chest where is settles in, cozy and kind.

The reports are where he said the would be, neat and organized like he was the manager and Carl was his employee. You normally spent at least thirty minutes trying to figure out what Carl had written in chicken scratch on the forms, but Steve's sharp and elegant script was easy to read and perfectly spaced. Annoying.

Even his signature was handsome.

After you get the registers counted and ready you file the forms and mark the reports so they'll be ready for your manager when they get back in store. You check the list of what needs to be done, the chilly late October air swooping in from the cracks under the door. Your face sours while you make your way over to the coffee bar in the back, seeing Steve set up the pastry delivery in the cases on the side.

"Did you come back here to yell at me about something?" he asks, focused on the task at hand, "I got all morning."

"You didn't turn the heat on," you cross your arms, "That's like, the first thing you're supposed to do."

He scoffs quietly, shaking his head, popping back up to lean on glass of the case, "Did you read your morning report or just sit there and admire my handwriting?"

"Excuse me?" you bite back.

"Heats fucked," he shrugs, ducking back down to finishing his display, "They're sending someone to take a look at it later today."

"Whatever," you grumble, turning on your heel to go dust the front shelving and reshelf the returns from yesterday.

"Yeah, you too Harrington," you agree quietly before walking away; and while you killed the smile, he was able to catch that crease in your eyes, the twitch in your shoulders. You thought that was nice, he wonders if he can make you do that again.

You head over to the back of the cafe during your break, no windows near your designated 'break chair'. It's close enough to the fireplace that it always feels like a rainy day even when it's nice outside. Now that Carl started his shift he got your drink ready to go the moment you walked over.

"Well la-di-da," Steve cocks his head when Carl walks over to greet the customer at the register, rag in his hands wiping up the pick up counter, "Expert service and you're not even gonna tip?"

"Here's a tip: leave me alone when I'm on break," you bite. Why did he have to be so handsome? Slight pink on his cheeks from the heat of the espresso and coffee machines, the lights overhead. The heat finally works again and it's almost working too well from the small bead of sweat forming above his brow. He runs a big hand through his hair again, the same way he did when you first met him. You try to ingore the way his bicep bulges in his sleeve when his arm stretches.

His tongue runs over his teeth, settling between them for a second before looking straight at you, "Good one."

"That's what you get when you read books," you say sarcastically, "You should try it sometime."

"You should teach me," he leans over the counter, resting his chin on his palm, "Bet you're a great teacher."

You bite your tongue, pulling in your lips and squinting your eyes to keep the smile from brewing a second time. You pick up your mug and sip your latte while he crosses his arms over his chest. "Nothing this time?" he asks, waiting for you second blow. You shake your head no, occupying your mouth with the rim.

"No?" He asks, you shake your head again, somehow glued to the spot under his stare. He slings the rag over his shoulder, still looking at you. "Well I don't wanna keep you standing here," he teases, offering you a wink that is so soul crushingly charming you could just die, "Enjoy your break."

You've never turned around so quickly in your entire life.

The following week you take another opening shift, happy to settle into the quiet of the cafe now that the morning rush of moms, dads, students, and aspiring writers have cleared out. The fire crackles just right, the leather warmed up to your body heat while the book sucks you in further an further. Thirty minutes pass when you hear a shift infront of you, the subtle squeak of leather being sat in with a soft crunch.

"What're you reading?"

You peer over the top of the spine to see Steve sat in the chair across from you, legs open wide while he leans his forearms on his knees. His long fingers slide together, gold ring shining in the light again to remind you of who he is and where he comes from. As handsome as he is today in his black henley and white t-shirt combo you'll never quite forget the fact that some MBA bro is perched in front of you like a puppy with nowhere to go.

"Sound out the cover, that should tell you," you boredly mumble before tucking back into the chair. His fingers peak over the spine, pushing the book down from the top. He pulls the leather chintz closer to yours with ease -- of course he does.

"Or you could tell me," he says with a softness you weren't ready to hear. Your chest gets warm again, creeping up your neck to your cheeks.

"It's Pride and Prejudice."

"S'that your favorite book or something?" he asks, elbow driving into his thigh so he can rest his chin on his fist.

"One of them," you shrug, "I always read it this time of year, kind of fits the mood of the season."

"Hm," he nods, like he's really listening, "What's it about?"

"Basically," you start, thinking of a way to describe it in two sentences or less, "It's like -- hm -- it's about two people, a love story. One guy is some super rich asshole and he's a jerk because the girl isn't as rich and him. And the girl isn't from the same social standing so she's a jerk because she already assumes that he's a super rich asshole. Like...I don't know, idiots in love who are too stubborn to love each other."

"Hm," he nods again, grin splitting his face, "Interesting."

"I don't have one," he shrugs.

"You have to have one," you balk, "Like, even if it's one you read in school or something." "Hmm," he sits back up, leaning back in the chair with his hands resting just under his chest.

"You have to know how to read to run a business," you shrug.

"I know how to read, honey," he laughs, "I just don't have a favorite book."

"At least try," you ecourage, albiet annoyed. He taps his fingers on his diaphragm, one knee bouncing while he thinks about it. His shirt rides up just a smidge in the back, revealing a sliver of skin you didn't think you'd ever see.

"Shel Silverstein," he says finally, "Where the Sidewalk Ends."

"You didn't strike me as a poetry guy," you say, closing your book over your finger to hold your place.

"My mom went through this poetry phase -- and I'm my mother's son, so I had a poetry phase with her," he shrugs, "We wore that book out, think we had to get a second copy cause the first one was just like -- destroyed."

"Well that's...you know," you lean your head from side to side, "That's nice. It's cute."

"You'd know, right?" he smiles, that god damn smile Shel would write about in a new book. You'd bring back book burning just to throw it in the flames after it was published. He gets up, disappearing behind you for a moment and reappearing with your favorite green mug. He gingerly places it on the side table next to you.

"Compliments of the chef," he says, presenting it like a Michelin star meal.

You look at it, a perfect pour -- the cream rosetta leaf striking against the warm brown espresso. You can smell the caramel and maple already wafting off it, cinnamon sprinkled delicately on top.

"Um, thanks," you say quietly, taking the mug to your lips. He looks down at you eagerly when you take a sip, waiting for your reaction.

"Did you do something to it?" you ask before you take one.

"No I'm just -- damn, come on. I'm excited to see you try it," he sighs, "I worked hard on it."

"Fine, fine," you murmur, letting the latte flood onto your tongue. Its -- regrettably -- one of the best iterations of you've had in a while. The perfect creaminess without being too milky, enough caramel and maple without being too sweet, the espresso's bitterness cuts the sugar in just the right way to make it smooth. He knows he did it right by the way you go for a second sip without saying anything.

"I did good?" he quirks a brow.

"You did good," you nod.

"Good," he smiles, tapping the top of your chair, "'Cause Carl's putting it on the menu starting in November."

"How come?" you ask into your third sip, the steam billowing over your cheeks.

Steve lets his eyes flicker over your face slowly, offering a half shrug, "I told him to."

November brings the first pre-season snow, not that it mattered now that your favorite drink was a regular menu item now. Caramel and maple always in stock, espresso machine always on first thing in the morning.

You open twice a week now, seeing Steve more often than not. Dropping your key became less common now that he was normally at the door when you'd get there, ready to let you in.

"Another great day, right?" he'd tease.

Now that the holidays were in full swing the bookstore was busier than ever -- sales, bundles, events. You even started carrying children's coloring books and crayons in the kid's section; a whole set up just for kids to sit and color while their parent's browsed.

The stress was getting to you, constantly checking and rechecking the end of day sales versus last year, wanting to make sure everything was on a steady incline with a nice cushion for the next. It helped that the cafe seemed to be absolutely climbing in numbers since September. More and more people wanted to spend time over there, and the more time they spent the more time they looked at books or started reading. It wasn't shocking to see people checking out at the counter with a second coffee and a new book or two in hand.

You don't want it to be true, but you're sure the new barista had a play in what makes so many people stick around. You'd see the way Steve would flirt when he took orders, how he's listen to them intently, make every customer feel like they were the only person in the room.

At least that's how he'd make you feel when he caught your gaze from over the shelving, helping find books for new patrons from the college nearby. You both started to wave at each other at each passing glance, each look caught by surprise, each accidental yearning stare.

Mid-November greets you with a bitter chill, the very early morning doesn't even have the decency to greet with you the rising sun. It'll be atleast another half hour until then.

For the first time in a long time you don't drop the key, pushing into the store with ease. You waste no time turning the heat on, making sure the radiators bled a bit before hand. You rub your hands together while they settle in, putting your coat away in the cubby and switching out your shoes in the break room.

Opening on a Saturday morning isn't common for you, but it's the first event you've planned by yourself. A very simple read-along story telling with some kids from the neighborhood and their parents. You collected three solid winter time reads: The Mitten, The Snowy Day, and A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving. A solid hour of reading while the parents could peruse, or sit and watch while their kids tuned into a book instead of cartoons on Nick Jr.

Once you've given yourself the onceover for the morning you feel more confident about the upcoming next few hours. Your knit tights fit snugly over your legs, a touch sheered out with the stretch over your thighs but the pleats in your plaid maroon skirt cover that just fine, hitting just above your knees -- still covered, still sensible. Still cute enough to snag a single dad if one were to show up.

Your feet stay tucked in a pair of worn in platform mary-janes stolen from your sister's New York City closet when you went to visit her over the summer. The chunky knit sweater over the whole ensemble completes you, a spitting image of a 'caught on the street' look you saw in a Seventeen magazine that you still get delivered to you despite being well past the age group.

You thrifted the sweater with Steve in mind, it looked like something he'd wear.

Anyway.

As you set up the 'reading rug' in the cafe area you hear the familar unlocking of the door. The sun finally starting to seep in in golden shards through the panes, leaving squares of light on the wood floors and carpets below.

"Hey Carl!" you call out, "I got everything up and running for you."

You hear the keys jingle but not his smoker's cough, not his heavy steps finding their way to the cafe area. Instead you look up to see Steve with his hands on his hips, watching you struggle to move the leather chintz to the back wall as your reading chair.

"Um," you started, looking around the room and the dissaray you seem to have made without realizing, "Why are you here?"

"Same reason your here," he says, stepping forward to shoo you away from the chair, "I'm on the payroll."

"You don't work weekends," you say, crossing your arms over your chest while he lifts the chair over the rug with a soft grunt.

"I do today," he says with a slight strain, "Where do you want this?"

"Uh," you start, "Just right in the center against the wall so everyone can see me."

"Oh, so you're reading to the kids this morning?" he laughs to himself after putting the chair down. He wipes his hands off on each other, shrugging off the jacket and holding it in one arm, "Bitter Betty is gonna entertain the young minds of Main Street?"

"Bitter Betty, huh?" you challenge, following him into the back room, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know exactly what that's supposed to mean," he shakes his head.

"I am very sweet," you tell him, a serious edge to your voice, "There are so many customer reviews saying how sweet I am."

"Sure," he nods, putting his coat away in his cubby, "I bet there are; since y'know, you're selling them something."

"I'm not just nice when I'm selling something," you say softly, arms coming protectively across your chest. A frustration bubbles in your chest while you look at him, following him back out into the cafe so you can keep getting the place ready before the families start to show up, "You think you know everything."

"I don't," he shakes his head, smiling while he checks over the machines and gets the first pot of coffee started.

"Yeah, you do. You walked in here two months ago and swear you know everything," you huff, getting the cafe back to a place of organized coziness.

"Okay," he chuckles, "Whatever you say, boss."

"You're infuriating," you mumble under your breath.

"Got that caramel latte coming right up for you, by the way," he says warmly.

Your head turns to see him watching you, he smiles, "Maybe you're a little nicer after you've had a coffee."

You smile back, unable to stop it this time.

"So that's a yes, right?" he cocks his head, fingers drumming on the counter while he watches you. That Harringtom charm pumping out at full speed.

"Y-yeah," you nod, "Whatever. You gonna go chop down a tree, Harrington? What's with the flannel?"

He looks down at his shirt and then back up at you with a soft shake of his head, "I better hurry up and get that started for you."

The kids look up at you with starry eyes, their parents smiling along with their coffees, lattes, espressos, and pastries. The Mitten was a hit and The Snowy Day is so far showing up to be a great follow up.

You take your time to really point out the pictures and adding on to the story since all three of them are pretty short. However, you're finding that kids between two and five are pretty easy to entertain if you do enough counting and make enough sound effects. Maybe you should've been a kindergarten teacher -- or maybe not. Maybe you should just keep doing book events.

You're halfway through when you show the illustrations to the group again, listening to them ooh and ahh at all the snow.

"Did um -- Miss -- did you know -- it snowed? It snowed at my house," one of the older kids announces, arm straight up in the air.

"It snowed last week, Michael, that's right," his mom pipes up, "Daddy had to shovel outside."

"Has everyone else seen snow? Raise your hand if you've seen this much snow!" you announce in your perfect parentese, watching while the older kids and parents raise their hands. The two year olds don't really get it so they just sit there and laugh.

After each couple of pages you catch each other, the pink on his cheeks rising when he looks away -- pretending to be occupied with something else. Cleaning, organizing, resetting the espresso machine. He can tell you're flustered by the way you clear your throat whenever you start to read again.

After The Snowy Day you take a ten minute break so that the parents can take their kids to the bathroom or re-up their beverages. The tip jar is full to bursting because nobody knows how to make a single mom feel like Steve Harrington does; and husbands will pay anything to get him to leave their wives alone.

You reset your chair, making sure the books you're reading are on display for purchasing on the shelving close by in your Winter Children's Bundle for a discounted price. As the ten minutes closes up you feel a soft tap on your shoulder.

"Here," you turn around to Steve with a green mug in his hands, "It's just regular coffee this time, but -- figured you could use it."

"Thanks," you say over the chatter of parents and kids coming back to sit.

"Can I have something ready for you for your break?" he asks back.

"Surprise me," you shrug, sitting back on your chintz chair and taking the final book onto your lap. The kids cheer when they see Snoopy on the cover, a well loved favorite cartoon to finish off their morning. With the crack of the spine you can already smell the sales coming once this little event is over.

You work through your break, ringing up and helping customer after customer on easily one of the busiest Saturday's you've seen in a while. It normally doesn't get busy like this at least for another couple of weeks.

The stress of working through lunch barely matters though because your event was a bigger success than you could've hoped for -- logging in the notes for Rochelle that you should probably start doing this throughout the season just for good measure.

It's starting to get dark by the time your shift ends and the store closes -- early on Saturdays at a tight 4 PM. You let your sales girl go a little early, wanting to take the time to close up the store properly since you were the one who made it such a mess this morning. As you start to put the chairs back that had been moved from the cafe to the children's section you hear him, fingers tapping on the counter.

"You didn't come by for your break," he says, "And I put a lot of effort into that drink."

"Sorry, we can't all be flirting through our shifts like you can, Harrington," you snark with a grin, flipping the last chair over onto it's accompanied table.

"You don't have to clean up the coffee part of the store," he says, coming around with another mug in hand, "That's my job, y'know."

"I know," you say, "But I kind of fucked it up this morning so -- just doing my part."

"Well, here," he says, mug outstretched in his large hand, gold ring gleaming back at you, "For doing your part, I guess."

"You guess, huh?" you laugh lazily, taking it -- he places his fingers in a way that you have no choice but to touch them. You wonder if he did it on purpose, "What do you call this one?"

"'Surprise me'," he replies in a mocking drawl, flipping the rag over his shoulder again and leaning against the counter's edge. The first sip is unfortunately one of the most even temperatured hot drinks you've put past your lips.

"You're good at this," you blurt out, almost offended.

"Well don't look so upset about it."

"Consider me surprised," you nod, licking your lips again, "It's good -- it's um -- yeah. It's really good."

"Thanks," he smirks, "A few of the mom's thought so, too."

You let out a sigh through your teeth, rolling your eyes. He expected that, taking a step forward when your gaze comes back to center. You can smell the left over wraiths of his cologne and Old Spice deodorant, count the moles on his neck adorned with his hidden gold chain, see the hair on his forearms from his rolled up sleeves.

"You know something," he says quietly, "If I didn't know any better -- I'd think you like me."

"Like you?" you balk, eyes widening, "You wish."

He clicks his tongue when you get so defensive because it just proves him right. He crosses his arms with another step forward, head cocking to the side slightly while he sizes you up. Why did his creator need to make his forearms so beefy? So perfectly sculpted that you can't look at them without losing your train of thought? Stupid.

"I don't think I have to wish, honey," he says softly, Doc Martins creaking on the wooden floors, "I think...uh, I think I must allow you to tell me how ardently you admire and like me."

Your mouth falls open, staring at him with eyes as glassy at the kids who watched you read this morning.

"You -- no -- you read it?"

"Maybe," he says, another step forward, his arms bumping against your chest.

"Maybe?" you ask back, brow quirking.

"Yeah, maybe I did," he runs a hand through his hair, falling back away from his face to show off his sturdy brow bone, watching you with admiration down the slope of his nose.

He reaches down and takes the mug out of your hand with smooth finesse, arm long enough to reach back and place it on the counter behind him. When he leans back in place he's closer than before, toe to toe, nearly nose to nose.

"Maybe I bought it the day you told me about it," he shrugs, "Maybe I thought it was pretty close to something I had goin' on with a girl I know."

"A girl you know?" you challenge. You know exactly who he means, but it might be fun to hear him say it. "Yeah, sometimes I only see her like, an hour a day. But sometimes I get to watch her read on her break, sometimes I get to close with her on Saturdays," he explains warmly, the timbre of his voice deep against the crackling of the fire in the back corner of the cafe.

"This is the only Saturday you've closed with me," you counter, head tilting up slightly, close enough that the tip of your nose brushes his.

"Who said I was talking about you, honey?" he murmurs back, mischief in his eyes that are half hidden by his eyelids. You feel a puff of his breath over your top lip, still minty fresh like he just brushed his teeth.

"We both know you're talking about me," you smirk, self satisfied while his gaze flickers to your lips and back to your eyes. He steps at an angle, making you step back so you're against the pick up counter.

"So sure of yourself," he he scoffs quietly, leaning over you and getting into your space. Each hand coming to the side of you to lean on the granite, caging you in, "I like that in a pretty girl."

"Most do," you shrug matter of factly.

"Yeah," he nods, "Think that's what I like about you."

"Maybe that's what I like about you, too," you nearly whisper out.

"Maybe?" he asks, lower lip ghosting over yours. "Mayb--"

Your hands find their way to his shoulders, heads moving in soft tilts when you change angles. When you find yourself sat on the edge of the counter he uses the leverage to pull you close to him, hips between the fullness of your thighs.

His tongue skates over yours when it slides into your mouth, free hand ridding up the soft material of your tights, tips of his fingers inching under the hem of your skirt in an innocent tease.

Even the way he breathes through it is sexy, leaving you with a lingering guess of what he can do when he presses his lips against your neck. Tongue flitting and striping while he nearly nips a bruise onto your skin. You let out a gentle gasp, enough to admit defeat to him -- much to your chagrin. Steve comes back up to your lips to meet you with a few final deep kisses before you break apart.

He steps back once, the deep golden light of the sun setting cracks through the panes of the back window in the cafe, adoring him in a glow that shines of his hair and eyes. The kind of glow they write about, the kind of glow you read about.

You both take deep breaths, eyes hungry for each other -- unsure if you should go for more. He lingers, coming forward again to rest his hands on your thighs.

"I didn't read it," he confesses. "Pfffft. Why am I not surprised?" you huff, exasperated.

"But! But, but, but," he argues back, pecking you feverishly, "I had to go to like, five different places to find the movie from 1980 so -- I did actually put some effort into it."

"I love that one," you say back.

"I get points for that, right?" he asks expectantly.

"Yeah, fine. You're luck you're cute," you explain, "But you do definitely have to read it, at some point. If you wanna keep making out with me in the cafe after closing."

"Oh, absolutely," he grins, hand reaching to pull you in by the back of the neck for a final searing kiss, "You'll have to teach me, remember?"

You of course start closing together every single Saturday.

masterlist | fall frenzy | ko-fi

#THANK YOU IS NOT ENOUGH FOR THIS MASTERPIECE #steve harrington can get it any time any place #especially barista steve #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington one shot

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