#some of the things they had coming out of Mickey’s mouth made me want to drive my head through a wall | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hwaightme · 1 year

Text

Bang bang

THIS IS 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI FOR STAR'S SAKE (nsfw tags under the cut) (masterlist) (join taglist)

⚫ pairing: gangster/mafia!seonghwa x stripper/afab!reader ⚫ genre: smut, mafia!au, noir, ganster film style, bits of angst ⚫ summary: Bang bang, he shot me down / Bang bang, I hit the ground / Bang bang, that awful sound / Bang bang, my baby shot me down... the words never sounded truer as you hunt for the man who made you fall from grace. ⚫ wordcount: 14.6k ⚫ warnings/tags: barely edited (written in a chaotic flurry), gangsters, murder, guns, blood, attacking, language, strip club, slight objectification, rudeness, bickering and arguing, emotional manipulation, revenge, death [of a side oc], yandere themes, obsessive behaviour, alcohol, money, seonghwa driving expensive cars, betrayal mention... lmk if anything else. ⚫ perma-taglist: @legohwas @doom-fics @acciocriativity @justhere4kpop @honey-lemon-goose @byuntrash101 @shakalakaboomboo @starillusion13 @hongthoven @cqndiedcherries @uwuheeseungie @hoshischeekss @frankenstein852 @charreddonuts @miriamxsworld @mingigoo @michel-angelhoe @innsomniacshinestar @foxinnie8 ⚫ a/n: HAPPY SEONGHWA DAY!!!! May our brightest star be blessed with everything and more <3 (and never venture into what this fic contains lol); much love and appreciation to nora for going unchained over mafia hwa, and for supporting me through the blackout that was the writing process for this fic. Much love, all reblogs, comments, thoughts welcome~

⚫ nsfw tags: hate sex, car sex, fingering (receiving), sub-leaning reader but a hardcore brat, dom-leaning seonghwa but he enjoys the degradation, degradation (whore, slut, cock slut...), pet names and praises (doll, precious angel, darling, baby, sweetheart), a bit of impact play (slapping), orgasm denial, doggy style, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap), blowjob, deepthroating, hair tugging/yanking, manhandling, grinding, spit play, come in mouth/swallowing... whew

⚫ playlist: bang bang (from kill bill) by geek music, showed me (how i fell in love with you) by madison beer, you put a spell on me by austin giorgio, i've got to see you again by norah jones, who do you want by ex habit, woman by emmit fenn, bad drugs by king kavalier, often by the weeknd, chills (dark version) by mickey valen

Bang bang… he shot me down…

You had given up on seeing him again. Searching for him, hellbent on getting the last word. You had been confident that finally, after all this time, your tortured soul could get some rest. That was until your eyes locked with his in a silent duel, that shit-eating grin on his face growing wider as he studied the wounds he had left behind. The invisible scars that were the start of your metamorphosis.

It was not that you had never imagined meeting the fiendish man again – in fact, you swore that it was your only relief: to fantasise about what you would do if you were to physically cross paths somewhere in this forlorn city, and many nights you would wake up in cold sweat after hearing the intoxicating low-toned laughter resonate in your skull. He haunted you and you knew that he was watching your every move like a sadistic predator. As such, the only thing that had driven you out of your madness, the flimsy umbrella that you clung onto amidst your fall from the life you had built and hoped to have, was to wish that one day, you could do the same. And seeing him right there, in front of you, in his tailored suit and jewellery bathed in blood as the spotlights made him look like the devil himself, the notion of hoping returned.

When a strobe light flashed across his faced you saw him lean and whisper something into the ear of one of his goons, evidently excited to having spotted you. After the ever so slightly shorter, but impressively built, undoubtedly a dark-souled man armed to the teeth, surely his bodyguard, nodded a couple of times, and in turn called over one of the waiters to continue the chain only for the latter to shrink and rush off into the backrooms, your nightmare ambled towards the bar. With a quick unbuttoning of his suit jacket, he settled in one of the stools and spun around to face the stage. To face you. Subject you to a mocking scrutiny while you had no choice but to continue dancing.

As he mindlessly took a black card out of his pocket and passed it to the bartender, without sparing a glance behind him, the object pinched between his pointer and middle fingers, you were in your lonesome on the stage, fighting an uphill battle for every coin and paper bill. Spinning in circles like an animal trapped in a cage, clinging to the pole as though it was a thread connecting you to existence itself, even though experience had shown you that in this, you were skilled only in going down. That man who made living seem easy, despite, or perhaps thanks to the darkness from which he was undoubtedly spawned. Your first love, your first heartbreak, your first glimpse into how the world could chew you up and spit you out – life that was a forbidden fruit so beautiful, so tantalising to where through atrocious flavour and agony one would bite through to the rotten centre and willingly lose their senses to keep a piece to themselves.

His eyes tirelessly accompanied your every move as you went through your routine. Grinding against the pole, crawling across the stage as onlookers and perverts – those who you had to call revered guests because they could spend, and spend a lot, ogled you and yelled heinous remarks, you had not felt so humiliated in a long time. The transition to your present career had been a follow up to a series of events that had shut all other doors – you considered yourself lucky that you had even had the chance to catch yourself on these professional branches during your painful descent. And you had to admit, it did pay well. In a couple of months, after you had definitely breached all work hour regulations, you had managed to pay off your fines and numb yourself to your revoked medical licence. Things were looking up, like the heels you wore. Not quite sky-high, but nevertheless, not in the sewers. But now that being sat at the bar, devouring you with his smouldering gaze and using you for cheap amusement, made you feel filthy. With his pristine, clean, supreme ‘I am above you all’ aura, he might as well state that he owned you. Maybe, in a way, he did. Since his ‘company’, or as one would say ‘bunch of organised hoodlums in suits’ behind closed doors, owned this club among many others dotted around the metropolis.

You climbed up, approaching the finale of your performance. Soon you would be able to leave that creature’s gaze and hide in the rank bathrooms until the coast was clear. Even if that meant you had to abandon the bills. Or no, no you would have the time. You had rent to pay, what were you thinking? And you still needed to return the money you borrowed for the funeral, despite you being told that your now ex could be left to rot just fine. The act was more for you anyways – you wanted to prove to yourself that you still knew honour and tradition, regardless of how far you had been swept up by the unforgiving currents of the underworld. So now, to pay for your illusion of honour, you put on a show and flaunted what you had, fuelled by an undercurrent of indescribable disgust.

To the numbing bassline and an addictive beat you went higher and higher, letting the sensuality envelop you once more. If the months that stacked themselves like cash had taught you anything, this passage of time that you had spent nomadic, performing in one club, another, until you ended up in the one where you were now centre stage, it was that professionalism came first. You were surprised to find out just how many of your academic and practical skills had actually been put to good use – well, maybe not things like knowing components of the limbic system but having a steady hand and being able to manoeuvre out of uncomfortable situations in a cool and calculated manner certainly did their wonders. As you performed a high kick hold, and let your toes discreetly push off the ground for more momentum, you were already thinking a couple of steps ahead. The fairy, the floaters transition, you mentally listed and promptly ticked off the items, going from one move to another. It was nothing more than an elaborate ploy to convince those ogling you, some even unceremoniously palming themselves through their trousers, to give you their ‘hard earned cash’. Though, you never wanted to know where exactly that cash came from. It was not your problem, and you were quick enough to realise that it was better to keep your mouth shut and ask less questions. What these men wanted to see was a pretty doll spinning on a pole as if just for them, a fantasy just a couple of steps away from them. Not some amateur interrogator.

His figure burned into your retinas as you amplified your dramatics, and stole the night for yourself with flair, flipping yourself upside down, only to recover and descend into your final pose. Due to the sweat and the light body highlighter that you had applied to make your features pop, you were an impossibly entrancing vision. A deity of the underworld that just so happened to find it entertaining to grace the local scum with her presence.

The handsome black-haired man, an enticing, lethal ‘bella donna’ flower continued watching the forbidden apple of his eye. He had finally gotten you within his reach after so many months of playing cat and mouse. You were unbelievably easy to track, never having attempted to hide yourself, but for him to restrain himself for so long and not hunt you down at first opportunity was borderline torturous. Park Seonghwa was never one to wait. If he wanted something, or someone, he got it instantly, handed to him on a platinum platter. But your hatred was like an addictive scent that brought him to an unprecedented high. Each time he had news delivered of you discreetly asking after him at a club, or you trying to frequent an area where he had been spotted, evidently on a mission to do exactly what he was doing to you, it brought Seonghwa an excitement that shook him to the core.

But now that you were here, in his lair, his first club that he had opened, still a junior in the business at the time and coincidentally, still having been in what could be called a relationship with you, he could not resist. His mind had been screaming Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, every hour of the day, and his primal desires grew stronger than ever before. As he inspected the way in which you bent down to take bills from eager hands, coy and purposefully demure so as to attract even more tips, sinful musings clouded him. He could not ignore the curve of your back as you tapped another fowl man’s chin and took what was definitely over his budget right out of his beggarly hands. Seonghwa was tense as he focused on the white dancewear that adorned your body, elegant lace providing a dizzying contrast to the lewd scene as you let another imp paw at your ass as he hooked the waistband of your thong to leave more crisp notes.

The act of a sensational seductress, you practically glided off the stage, the platform heels doing little to diminish your resolve. You were even better than what he could have ever imagined from the stories that his closest allies and bodyguards had relayed to him. And while, San, the man who he had entrusted with observing you particularly closely once news had gotten around that you joined Club Estelle, had expressed your resounding success and renowned desirability on a number of occasions, now that Seonghwa had seen it he was nothing but proud. His masterpiece, his project, his precious little cherub was doing so well. All for him. How could he not grace you with his presence after seeing such a show?

You knew there was no way of escaping the monster, even if you had the ability to turn invisible, so you were not too surprised when you had found the man who had been next to him for the duration of the performance standing in front of you. What you were taken aback by, was how in just a flash, the man’s intimidating aura dissipated to reveal a charming, heart melting smile and twinkling eyes.

“Miss L/N Y/N?” voice equally as sweet, he inquired. Though you had no doubt that his was just airs preceding the request for you to accompany him to his boss.

“Yes. And you are?” remaining amiable, albeit distant, you responded, crossing your arms in a subconsciously protective manner.

“Merely delivering the request for your audience with my chief.”

You motioned for him to accompany you to the back, signalling that you needed to store the cash before any further discussions were made. The sweetheart obliged, and let you take the lead. In your peripherals, you spotted Seonghwa gripping his drink a little too tightly to be indifferent. As questionably possessive as ever, it seemed. Once you and the muscular bodyguard who you discovered was wearing a double holder were behind the curtain that served as a door to a dark corridor, you continued the conversation.

“A request or an order?”

Absent-mindedly, you checked the quantity of the bills which you had collected - the rest were already waiting for you in the room, courtesy of the waitstaff whom you had actually managed to make something of a deal with: you did not tell anyone about their habit of permanently borrowing beverages from the bar, and they did small errands for you. Maybe this man with cat-like features was in a similar agreement with Seonghwa, though the likelihood of there being blood involved was too high.

“A request that I would definitely advise you to follow.” he insisted, holding open the door to the changing room as you inspected the bucket that had been left for you in the corner, with neatly collected, crisp notes. Your favourite sight as of late.

“If you answer my question.” you threw out while organising the money inside of a sports bag - the storage of your professional life. Once you were done, you shoved the item into your personal locker, sealing it shut and spinning around to face the man again as he beckoned you.

“Kindly, follow me, Miss.”

“Who am I following?” you repeated, desperately curious to know of this man’s identity. Nevertheless, your feet carried you forward, and you yielded to his summons, heading back out into the club.

“Mister Park Seonghwa’s man.”

“Ooh, his man…”

“Right hand man.” he elaborated, making you roll your eyes.

“So no name to pair with such a handsome face?”

The answers were almost automatic. It was not foreign to you to flirt with strangers, since that way you amplified your chances of financial success, but never before did you catch yourself being so passive, even when the intonations were well practised and near identical to what you would normally say. But there was no one, nor nothing, to blame except the hardwired response to the nearing figure of a very specific gangster, on whom your gaze immediately settled as soon as you reached the edge of the prolonged bar counter.

“I believe that Mister Park would not enjoy hearing such words from you.” of course he would not. When did he ever enjoy you complimenting anyone else except him? San steeled himself as he lowered his head, while you let the fingers of your right hand flitter over the counter as you sauntered over to the man who could not even be bothered to approach you himself, despite having evaporated from your life for an unbearable collection of months.

“Then he would not have sent you to fetch me. He should know that I appreciate beauty-” you were testing your luck, uttering the words when within the gangster’s earshot. Thankfully for San, he chose to take the matter into his own hands and, setting aside the glass of cognac with a delicate push, addressed his bodyguard.

“Sannie, is Y/N giving you a tough time?”

Your name sounded precious, meaningful when he said it. Like it had a genuine purpose in this mortal realm. A melodic uttering of simple sounds that drowned out the pulsing beat that zombified the visitors of Club Estelle. Whether that music was on or not made no difference to you - either way, you would only hear Seonghwa. His voice was like a rumbling of an oncoming thunderstorm amidst a nighttime quiet. The rolling growls of heaven’s rage as steel grey clouds stalked across the sky, wrapping the defenceless earth in a catastrophic promise. With nothing but a foggy trepidation in your chest, you slid onto the seat that was to your nightmare’s right, turning to have your back to the bar and rest your elbows behind you on the elevated table.

“Uh, not at all, sir.” San’s shift in mien was comical. In a flash, he had stepped down from the pedestal of a man who made the demands, to a servant who you struggled to imagine acting a step out of the lines that his boss had drawn out for him. You raised an eyebrow, giving the guard a onceover.

“Sannie?”

“Yes, darling. San. Like a mountain. Isn’t it cute?” Seonghwa interjected again, not letting the man who you were addressing as much as regard you. Apparently, being under his command also meant that you were instantly off limits. How dull.

“Interesting word choice…”

“He is a cutie, though, aren’t you, Sannie?” smirk gracing his lips, Seonghwa teased the cutie, who, judging by the sheer broadness of his shoulders, could probably snap a person in half with his bare hands. Not that the person would complain since the last thing they would see would be that pretty face… but that was besides the point. No one in the mafia was soft and fluffy. And if there had ever been, they had not survived long enough to establish themselves as the sole representative in history.

“No comment.”

“See? How fucking adorable,” with an icy tone, Seonghwa concluded. “Now, could you give us some time to speak tête-à-tête?”

“Of course.”

As rapidly as his appearance had been, so was his departure into the lingering crowd. A newbie - even more new to the business than you, was beginning her performance, and had caught the attention of a couple of the regular patrons, and the lewd chatter had picked up considerably. It was apparent, however, that it was not enough to capture the interest of the man in front of you, who shifted his seating to face in your direction, and officially broke open the door into your life once again. Not because you had been tirelessly searching for him. But because he found it beneficial for himself to make himself known to you.

“Greetings and salutations, Y/N, it’s been a while. We have much to catch up on, don’t you think?” you blinked slowly, suppressing a rude scoff. People were still watching you, that much you were aware of. Those were the perks, or the faults with wearing stripper dancewear. You were the fixation of lustful eyes, the cool glass of water that was just out of reach for the hoards of parched scum.

“I have nothing to say to you, Seonghwa.”

“Ah how I missed you saying my name.”

“And I’d rather you keep mine out of your mouth.” a total lie, had you considered your instincts and how your legs had instinctively tilted closer to the brunette, but you were not about to throw away months of fantasising the man’s demise at the first interaction. You had at least some restraint left.

“Only if you can silence me. I know a couple of ways.” he winked, but you pretended not to catch it as you stared down at his hand that was lying on the counter, studying the ornate decal on the fingerless leather glove.

Taking notice of your preoccupation, he tapped his fingers on the surface, making the silver studs that ran down each digit and surrounded the opening on the back of the hand shine in the glimmering lights. You counted the holes that revealed his knuckles, for no reason other than to try shifting focus. You were not opposed to this kind of interaction. Gestures. Hints. Symbols. It was a horrifying craving that started in the abyss that Seonghwa had left in your tarnished soul, an affliction caused and amplified even by the most mundane details. You could feel those same fingers wrapping themselves around your neck, tracing your jawline, making a ghostly descent down your body. A shiver ran down your spine as you tore yourself away from the sight that had turned into a sinful recollection, forcing out a jarring taunt to convince yourself that there were no undertones to Seonghwa’s phrase.

“With a gun?”

He was not buying it. His precious flower, barely dressed and yet graceful to the extent of rivalling divinity, squirming from his mere presence. This was what he had been searching for, all this time that he had denied you contact. You had been a bad girl. Running, thinking you were pure and angelic. He did not want you that way, so he took his time winding you up, making your world collapse so that you would be ready to take the real him. Not the foolish goon that he had been before. You had been so sweet, doting on him and showing him off to your friends. But what he yearned for was the animalistic antagonisation of his very being. The fire in your heart that drove you to a vengeful insanity. Seonghwa’s tongue pushed at the corner of his mouth before running over his bottom lip, disappearing to give way to a smug grin as he noticed your eyes dart to the action. He comprehended your capabilities properly. More than any of those quacks who you had looked up to ever could. Your demons were loud, and yet you had gone to great lengths to suppress them, even when you were the most beautiful like this. The mortal embodiment of Discordia. Truly, the one deity he would worship. The only one who he would continue sacrificing for.

“Ah, that reminds me. Heard about your boyfriend, such a shame really. He was so young…” he pondered out loud, not a single bit apologetic.

“That’s rich coming from the man who put a bullet between his eyes.” you hissed, crossing your arms as a man walked past and openly gawked at your breasts.

Though that quickly resulted in a not so subtle threat, with Seonghwa leaning back to adjust his jacket, only to reveal the grip of a menacing handgun, tucked away into a leather holster. The visitor, who had purposely slowed his pace, bolted from the spot, giving the gangster one final look before rushing to the other side of the club. As if looking for your praise, or approval, Seonghwa hid the gun from sight once again and gazed at you, softer and more affectionate than before, his eyes transforming to take on more of a doe shape and inducing an uncomfortable pain. When you did not satisfy him, he clicked his tongue and ran his hands over his hair, shorter at the sides and revealing a buzzcut design that had begun to fade with growth. The new style suited him, you decided. Almost too well. It was frustrating.

“Ah, ah, no. Not me. My hands are clean, sweetheart.” he raised them, a hilarious attempt at trying to prove his innocence which you chose to ignore. No matter how obsessively he washed his acts away, blood was more than a rusty red liquid. It was a curse that stained the skin of those who wished to draw it with an eternal permanence, passing from generation to generation until the Earth was saturated with the hue. Ignoring the blatant bullshit, you mused the fate of the man who you had used to fill the void.

“What the fuck did he even do to you guys?”

“Oh you know how it is. Got a taste of success, got a little too greedy… and kaput. Didn’t keep a clean inventory and clean percentages, you see. And I don’t like when things aren’t clean.” you did not have to be brought into the matter any further than that. You certainly did not need to be let in on the fact that your ex was actually one of the best dealers in his district. He was just a little too close to you for Seonghwa’s comfort.

“Sure you don’t. You said the word, what, four times already? That’s why you even launder your money…” you muttered, not noticing how Seonghwa’s elbow slid closer to you until his hand began to play with a lock of your hair.

“Ah, so attentive, counting what I say…” twirling it around his finger, he observed how the myriad of colour from the club’s lights managed to change its shine, and let it fall back into an alluring cascade, “... and not only that, we also do pest control. The last thing we need is lowly vermin poisoning our supply chains and ruining user experience for our end clients, right?”

“I still don’t-”

“Funny how you got involved with him. Of all people. A drug dealer.” it was easy to make you shift focus. One mention of your failed career, and you were gone. So, in a dire situation such as this, Seonghwa would be a fool not to use this fact.

“Guess he was the only one there to actually support me in the shitstorm. Thanks for that, by the way.”

“Now, now, no need to thank me, darling, when I did nothing-”

“I was blacklisted, Seonghwa. Do you know what that means?” slamming the counter with your hand, you stood up off the stool and glowered. Oh, how adorable it was when you got so riled up. A darkness flashed across his eyes as he imagined you to be a tiny predator, ready to pounce. How endearing.

“I can try to guess, though something tells me you will provide more details.” he egged you on, enthralled by how you tried to hover over him, but still retained his favourite fragility.

“It means my dreams have gone up a rat’s ass. I wanted to be a nurse, Seonghwa. And yet, as soon as I get to work, the next day after helping you and your stupid goons, I get kicked out and sued.” The only downside that he could see was that he would not be able to have his way with you were all professional and in a dainty nurse’s outfit. Though… he would have had to make some adjustments to the scrubs for that. A few rips here and there would not hurt anybody.

“It really was only basic supplies that you permanently borrowed, and for the greater good at that. I still think the hospital over-exaggerated.” you had been more than benevolent. Overlooking status, background and appearance you had dashed to lend a hand. Seonghwa had counted on you to do that so that he could drag you down closer to himself.

“In the eyes of the law, I am a thief who has gotten away with far too light a punishment.”

“And I see a saviour.” a merciful fucktoy who he had initially simply been playing around with, only to discover that you were so pathetically trusting that he could not help but fall in love.

“Poetic.” you responded sarcastically, raising your eyebrows. Seonghwa was bearing witness to the dissolution of your resistance. As much as you wished you could keep the game up, his charming falsities and unforgivable seduction were a delight that you could not withstand.

“You know one of those ‘stupid goons’ celebrated his wedding anniversary with his wife two months ago? And then the other sent his daughter to primary school not long ago… Like I said, you made a sacrifice that those bureaucratic little shits, hidden away in offices, would never make. You care for people.”

His hands snaked to your hips, and he pulled you closer to him until you were trapped with his legs on either side of you. Even though physically you were the one looking down, every passing second you felt more and more like a lab experiment or a sample under a microscope. He was dissecting you, tearing you apart and rebuilding you once again so that you would be just right. Just for him. His favourite doll.

“Seems I care for the wrong people.” you alluded to the man in front of you, a shallow, staggered breath escaping you as he gripped a little tighter.

“Do you regret it?” his eyes. Two dark pools which housed your tailored terror, but had to be so lovable. The devil always took on the most beautiful form.

Your silence told him everything he needed to hear. You could have pushed him away, slapped him across the cheek. Hell, you could have told San to get lost - though in that case you would have probably been disposed of and continued your existence as an addition to a faraway landfill. But that was besides the point. Because you were not indifferent. And the boundary between love and hatred was nearly invisible.

“So happy to have you here. At last.” just as he was about to bring you into an embrace, drunk from the elation of your first meeting in what had to have been an eternity, you pressed down on his shoulders, narrowly avoiding the stark white collar of his shirt that was laid over his jacket, and pushed away, hostility written over your features.

“That’s why I bet you are proud of having sold me out.”

“Who said that?” confused, Seonghwa inquired.

“I just know it.”

“And I am asking, who told you that I sold you out?” stuck in what could only be equated to a tug of war, the two of you were challenging each other to ‘try their worst’.

“My e-”

“The druggie. Right. Of course he did. I bet he told you a lot of things.”

“Like how you used me…”

“Uh-huh,” his hands glided up your body until he stood up, and your arms were limp at your sides once more.

“Corrupted me…”

“My love, you’re still an angel,” he cupped your chin and gazed deep into your eyes, noting that it was as if you were reciting something that you had practised time and time again in front of a mirror until it made no more sense to you than white noise.

“Then betrayed me…”

“Something I would not do under any circumstance. You know what family honour is.” Seonghwa did not betray. He acted in ways that benefited him. And if it just so happened to leave others hurt, it was their fault for caring so much.

“Family. What the hell do you know about family?” you were seething. He was burning you. Again, and again, and again. And you were readily giving in every single time.

“Certainly more than you. Oh sweetheart, I know how lonely you have been-” he wanted to comfort you, even if that made him nauseous, but thankfully, you were not in the mood and stepped away, making him let go of you.

“Don’t touch me.”

“I only want to-”

“I said. Don’t. Seonghwa. Look. I- I hate you. Okay?” music to his ears. How you desperately tried to get away from him and from your own feelings. Scared little pet.

“Are you trying to convince yourself?” the phrase echoed within you as you took another step backwards, realising too late that you had let him wrap himself around you like a hungry python. You needed out. This was it. Final. You needed some air. Or better, to return home, climb into bed, and pretend this never happened. Future you could handle this problem, present you was irrational, risk-seeking and a harm to the self.

“N-no. I. I need to go.”

“You know you can’t.” Seonghwa whispered out loud as he watched your determined departure, right up until you were behind that heavy velvet curtain.

He picked up his glass and studied the clear, russet contents, and let the liquid slosh around to take in the aroma. With a quick sip, he was back to his usual self, and the smile that was on his face was instantly erased. Bored, the dangerous man leaned against the counter with the weight of his body, imitating your earlier posture and commanded:

“San, I know you’re lurking, come here.” Indeed, in a matter of seconds, his bodyguard appeared from behind one of the pillars that was located closer to the kitchen.

“Yes, sir?”

“You see that man over there?” raising his glass, Seonghwa pointed in the direction of one of the very dedicated hounds who was by the stage. He had been particularly involved in your act, and from the moment Seonghwa had first noticed him, to the very last moment that you were up there, the tipsy man had probably dropped at least a couple thousand dollars’ worth of cash. He was the perfect candidate for the gangster’s plan.

“The one in the green hoodie?”

“Yes, that sleazy bastard. How about we cast him as the bad guy, huh? Payment upfront.” San nodded. The method was simple, and had shown tremendous success in the past. He hummed in agreement, waiting for Seonghwa to add his usual:

“Temporarily, of course. All in good fun.”

“Understood. What should I lay over?”

“That a certain Y/N is particularly ravishing after her performances, and will be at the back exit in about twenty minutes.”

Bang bang, I hit the ground…

Maybe what that gangster had said was true, and that you were too good for the ‘overworld’. It was an attractive thought. Perhaps after the doors to the medical field and consequently a wide range of other careers you had considered had been shut, due to your newfound, albeit light, but nevertheless a serious enough criminal record, you ended up simply tapping into your true nature as a creature of the underworld. While out there, you had always been average, here you were a saviour. A goddess. A queen. Maybe you indeed were celebrated and had gifts thrown at your feet exactly because you deserved nothing less. The chasm that was the dark side of the corrupt city might be your true home, and you had simply been in denial, running away from it.

How easy it was to fall back into your patterns. As you sank into Seonghwa’s eyes, you recollected your time with him. The attentiveness that he had shown you. The way in which he would patiently listen to you explain obscure medical terminology, convincing you that, to him and him alone, it was interesting. You had felt blessed then. And that was exactly why you wanted to erase him. As you strutted down the corridor that ran behind the main hall of the club, leading you to the back rooms that were for staff and artists only, you shook your head. Wishful that this would help you get rid of the reminiscing of the last ‘easy’ time of your life. Before you revealed to yourself that you would commit a crime in the name of love. Even when that love was merely an illusion. Confused by your own feelings, still seeing a glowing red target over Seonghwa’s evil heart while making out golden glimmers on its surface, you stormed into the changing room and let out a sigh of relief as you saw it completely empty. You could meditate on your frightening conversation with the devil himself.

There was something therapeutic about the wind down from your performances, if you were to forget about the side eyes you were being thrown after having been caught talking to the owner of the establishment, and according to some of the whispers, a very desired man. How they could overlook the fact that he was more cold blooded than a snake when it came to satisfying their need for a happy and tranquil life amazed you. With the thumping of the music feeling so far away that you were practically enveloped in a sea of cotton, and the lights emitting a more familiar fluorescence, like a late night grocery store rather than the strobes, sickly colour selections and kaleidoscopic reflections, the changing room was a sort of safe space. You were trying to stuff the bills that you had collected, and the chunky stripper heels into a nondescript sports bag, after having covered yourself up with something more appropriate for a ‘so late it could be considered early’ trek back home.

You needed time to yourself before you were going to black out and make some foolish decisions concerning that conniving man. It was a curse, without a doubt. Not dissimilar to the very drugs you had smuggled, he was hard to quit. And you hated him for it. At least this was what you had been openly declaring, and were not going to give up on. If anything, this was your new habit. Imagining revenge on Park Seonghwa. You were going to get it. Eventually. You still had some hope left in you, even though your feet were currently struggling to hold you up, even in your sneakers, a hint of a fire in your chest as your memories of the man were refreshed. Did he have to look more handsome than before? More refined? More demonic?

When you had met him during a night out with your friends at a bar in the classier side of town, Seonghwa had introduced himself as an ‘intern’, which you now understood as one of the lower ranking goons who did the dirty work. Now, he was all white shirt and spotless sleeves, smooth skin and perfectly manicured hands, only a breath away from being a model rather than a hardened and ruthless criminal. Perhaps it was this contrast that had resulted in the man having cemented the nickname ‘Mars’ for himself, as you had found out from a few tipsy insiders who would do anything for a private show. The god of war, destruction, bloodshed, all in the name of an interpretation of peace and prosperity. The dangerous balance on the tip of a razor, by which you had undoubtedly been slaughtered.

He was a mastermind, a monstrosity in a beautiful guise as he ran, alongside the uppermost echelons of the mafia that effectively had the city, and at this point you would not put it beyond them - the country in a chokehold, the numerous operations that kept the underworld’s heart pumping. An inky fluid, viscous and bitter, one which you had accepted in a pretty glass of so-called love without thinking twice. Seonghwa knew how to make you happy. And the longer that went on, the more of a problem that became. He knew just how to spin thread out of you, how to wrap you again, and again around his finger until you were nothing more than one of the rings that he would occasionally wear to complete his outfits. And in such a hypnotised state, you thought you were doing the right thing when you broke into the place that was housing your professional dreams, and crept to retrieve some of the most sought after medication. Just for him. Oh how he thanked you then. How he had professed his love to you and praised you. You had been on cloud nine. Until you found out that someone had anonymously filed a report against you, provided all evidence, somehow all in the same night, and by the next midday you had already been summoned to court.

The day when you had stepped out of the courthouse was imprinted in your mind. Having received a much kinder sentence than one you had expected - more financial and reputational damages than anything else, you had been upbeat enough to engage in smalltalk with the state-provided lawyer whose name you had forgotten in a few hours. At least you had been that way before you saw him across the street. Lower body hidden by a jet black, matte sports car, black suit, black shirt, black hair… the reaper himself having arrived to taunt you and laugh at the death of your career. A carefree smile had been replaced by a deep scowl as the gears clicked, the puzzle completed itself in your head. Seonghwa. It had to be Seonghwa. It took every fibre of your being to restrain yourself from committing another criminal offence and attack him, and instead watch him climb into his car as though you had been nothing but empty space to him, and speed off in the direction of uptown. A murder most fowl. Of your soul, of your heart. And what mind you had left, you had promised to dedicate to hunting him down.

You sighed as you heaved the emergency exit door open, having avoided the main back entrance out of fear that Seonghwa might be there, or anywhere inside Club Estelle. What did you mean by hunting him down? Now that he was there. Within slapping distance, if you were to put it in an unceremonious manner. What were you actually seeking? Was it your mind twisting your desire for him to simply make a return and instead of stalling on your destruction, simply go on ahead with it and shoot you down? You shook your head, pulling the hoodie that was covering your otherwise scandalous outfit tighter around you as the cool air enveloped you. It was almost peaceful. Almost quiet. Almost.

“Hey Y/N~ you put on suuuuch a goood show, baby girl… fucking fantastic… damn. Was told I could catch you here and damn, you are a goddess.”

You snapped in the direction of the sound, finding a man who was rocking side to side approaching you. Relatively tall, scruffy, with dirt-stained clothing hanging off, unfortunately, a more athletic-looking body. So striking him with one of the heels in your bag and running was out of the question. Besides, who knew how he would act if he saw the cash? You backed away having been met by the stench of what had to have been at least three shots of the strongest liquor in the house, and found yourself with your back pressed against a wall of the dimly lit alleyway between the club, and a line of dumpsters, with this very drunk problem whose perverted grin was inducing an uncontrollable trembling. The longer you stood in this state of a showdown, much like a wild west film, the more he was suffocating you with the overwhelming, acrid stench of sweat, cigarettes and whatever concoction his stomach had made out of the alcohol he had consumed.

“Can I get a… private show, huh? Swear’ve been good just for you baby girl.”

You suddenly felt so alone. Abandoned. Terrifying conclusions running through your head. There was not a single performer at the club who you were more than acquaintances with, and even then, would they help? The club bouncers rarely got involved since the majority of the customers were high-paying, and apparently the rule there was: if they had cash, they could behave like trash. Maybe a dead stripper to them was just the usual night. Who would you have called in the past? You hated to admit the name, the face that floated into your brain as soon as you asked yourself the question. But Seonghwa had a way with situations like this. He had stood up for you before, to the point where you had to kiss away his pain and treat his wounds - though that was nothing compared to the scarlet sight that he had painted in your honour. It was horrific, and yet, he had made you smile. It had probably been the grandest gesture of adoration that you had ever received.

Still managing to keep some distance between you and the disgusting creature, your brain went into overdrive. You were backing away from him, but there was only so much time before he would pounce. As much as you wanted to just scream your heart out and pray some, well, a very specific, knight in shining armour would appear out of nowhere, you were a big girl and knew that the stories you indulged in reading were not true. In real life, and especially your own life, you had to be your own hero. It was your mission to remind yourself that Seonghwa was a villain. So you tried to project him onto your temporary enemy.

Although the action made bile rise in your throat, you peered into the drunk’s eyes, trying to read his actions. Not quite walking straight, he took another step towards you, supporting himself by pushing on the dumpster to his left, your right. You immediately mirrored it, your hand feeling for the wall to your right. A couple more steps and you would be right beside a trash pile that you had spotted when you first appeared in the alley way from the staff exit – the bastard sure was persistent and did not want to give up on you. You sneered – it could almost be his redeeming quality, compared to a certain someone else who liked to drive into the metropolis and then turn into an omniscient poltergeist.

“Come on, why are you being such a tease? Weren’t you having the time of your life earlier? So sexy, don’t you want to use that?”

He was making your skin crawl. You were trying your hardest to not interact with him more than necessary and stayed quiet. One wrong move and you were going to be in much deeper trouble than this. The sort where the best-case scenario you envisioned was showing up in the news, not so alive and in a ditch. The situation reminded you of a short story by Rudyard Kipling, Rikki-Tikki-Tavi, but instead of a face off between a mongoose and a king cobra, there was a young woman with a flurry of ruminations and a myriad of regrets. Though the latter was definitely swaying like a snake.

“Hey, baby girl, are you not going to come to daddy any time soon? I am getting impatient, baby, and you don’t want to piss me off.” He growled, his previously aimless blabber turning into a threat.

Your body was screaming for you to just make a run for it, but you knew better than that. This guy, unfortunately for you, was sporty enough and lanky enough to catch up to you in no time. On top of his build, you had the brilliant idea to wear new heels for your show today, which had cut into your flesh just enough to hurt, as if scolding you and repeating ‘I told you so’ and leaving your feet exhausted. As you stole a glance at the more comfortable pair of shoes for which you had settled, it was as though a lightbulb went off in your head. That was right. You did have manoeuvrability. You just needed to get one hit.

You neared the exit of the alley, judging your proximity solely by the light emanating from a lonely street lamp right back on the main street. You steadied yourself as you saw the man open his mouth again and crouched further down to reach for an empty wine bottle that was lying on top of the pile you had been counting on. Keeping it hidden from the man, you stepped to the side, obscuring half of your body behind the large trash bin.

“What are you doing you bitch, huh? Answer me. I’ll give you one more chance.”

You remained silent, sliding your bag off your shoulder for better movement, pleading that it would not make a noise. The first glide down your upper arm was smooth enough, though your relief did not last long as it accelerated and came down to crash on some debris. That appeared to trigger new aggression in your opponent, as he practically snarled and lunged forwards, arms outstretched. You jumped backwards, only nearly missing a pipe protruding from one of the walls, and made contact with one of the walls, tripping the man as you did so. You were not thinking clearly, vision a blur, your surroundings spinning. You had only one mission now – survive. While the man was picking himself up, cursing and inspecting his painfully grazed hands, your eyes focused on the back of his head.

What if this was Seonghwa? What would you do? He had betrayed you, didn’t he? He had no right to be in your life again, regardless of your instincts. Regardless of how terrific he looked and how much he wanted you. An otherworldly rage overtook you as you imagined the devil in place of this sinner. In his designer suit, with his slicked back hair and chains that would glitter like stars even in the dim light. The set up made your body act on its own. You were fuelled by your anguish, and each sensation in the present turned into a re-enactment of your inner turmoil that had built up over the time. The guttural shriek, the stinging tears threatening to roll down your cheeks as you shut your eyes and swung with all your might only to meet-

-nothingness. A strong grip of your wrist and a firm chest pressed against your back prevented you from moving. And again, that familiar scent. Your drug. Your demise. The emergency exit door snapped itself shut, suggesting that Seonghwa had only now made it into the alleyway, and an odd sense of calm enveloped you. For the time being, he was the lesser of the many evils.

“Oh, ‘s you! Mar-”

The stinging sound of a gunshot, lulled into an ambient slumber with a silencer. Time slowed, and you swore you could see the bullet soaring through the air, about to collide with the skull of the man whose fate had been sealed. But a blink before you could bear witness to the impact, darkness overtook you, and you were embraced in an overwhelming sweetness, vision sealed with a resolved, mercilessly protective hand. You were spun in a macabre dance, now facing the gangster, breathing against the crook of his neck and focusing on the freezing cold jewellery that caressed your cheek. Nothing more than a sigh, a tainted soul escaping from the mouth of the drunkard, before you heard a thud of his body colliding with the cold concrete.

You sincerely wished you could feel remorse, but all that you could identify in your body was an insatiable curiosity, and a perplexing connection of the societally horrific event with what had happened to your ex. So, that was how he had been disposed of, huh. The same damn signature. And he was most likely lying when he was trying to assure you that it was not the same man. His hand was too stable, heart was too calm, and the way in which he pressed his soft lips to your jaw, and once your sight was returned to you, your cheek, were all telltale signs that this was not the first time he had killed with you as his prime motivation.

“You’re awfully calm for someone who was ready to murder, darling.”

The words rang out in your head and the realisation hit you, cutting through the comforting fog that had settled over your psyche as you drifted in black irises. The bottle which you had picked out of the trash to serve as your weapon suddenly felt unimaginably heavy, and it began to slip.

“Now, now, we don’t need to cause any more of a mess…” gingerly, the bottle was taken from you, and clinked against the smoking gun as Seonghwa was more preoccupied with keeping your full attention on him. While you were still tame enough for him to manoeuvre, He returned the weapon under his jacket.

Dizzy, you swore you were within inches of delirium. Darting from one one part of his face to another, you soon spotted a tiny splatter of blood on his cheek, and lifted a trembling hand to caress it. Eyes wide, you watched as the crimson spread under your thumb and left a trail whilst you were wiping it away. Lips parted, you were locked in a soundless scream. This was not a joke. That man, no longer a man, a soon to be carcass, crow food, was dead. And without a doubt, Seonghwa was going to tell you that it was your doing. Turning slowly, you caught a glimpse of the aftermath, and the dark dots that now decorated Seonghwa’s side that had been the closest to the drunkard.

“Look at me, darling. Look at me.”

“But I, but he-”

“I said. Look at me.”

“But you kill-”

A crash resonated as Seonghwa threw the bottle against the opposite wall, the olive-coloured rainfall covering the dead body and rippling over the dumpsters. Knees buckling, you wanted to collapse next to it then and there, only to have a gloved hand force your face to be right against his.

“You are a lethal flower, darling. Shame this had to happen.”

“Shame?”

“You’re shaking. Did this man touch you?” with a concerned air, Seonghwa inquired, his breath hot against your skin. Discreetly, he began to step towards the exit of the alleyway.

“N-no… but-”

“Did he scare you?”

“Y-yes… a lot.”

“For fucks sake, these idiots have no self control, hurting my precious angel like this.”

Precious angel. You were his precious angel. So he did care, at least somewhat. You had a space, a chance to corrupt what was left of his heart. Your forehead was against his as you allowed him to guide you out of the cramped space, careful to sidestep when he told you, lifting one leg, the other when he whispered that you should do so. This felt right. He was back. He was here. He was ready to do anything for you. This was where you wanted him. While you were busy processing what had just unfolded and fading into your beloved manifestations, Seonghwa pulled you into an embrace and began to direct two of his men who had snuck in through the emergency exit and were awaiting instructions. After a couple of raises of the eyebrow, and one point towards the bag which you had abandoned, they began to tiptoe around the area, ready for a rapid spring cleaning.

Wherever he was taking you, you had no choice but to follow. Such was the rule. Even if you had other ideas and plans, now that Seonghwa was back, you had to fall into his rhythm, and figure out a new strategy that would not cause a dissonance. Your clouded mind was lulled by his low instruction. Slow down here, now heading out onto the street there… you were a puppet in his hold. You were… a criminal. Weren’t you? You froze just as the two of you approached a parked car, and judging by Seonghwa’s immediate instinct to reach into his pocket, you assumed it was his. No, you couldn’t. This was… you needed to go home. Conflicted, the hold you had on Seonghwa’s jacket loosened.

“Darling?”

“I… I need to go home.” his soft smile fell, replaced with a judgemental grimace. Retaining a fraction of decency, he refrained from shoving you against the vehicle, instead choosing to subject you to scrutiny.

“You are home.”

“Here?” you surveyed your surroundings, figuring out that you were outside Estelle, and luckily, there were no longer any stragglers who regularly tried to make it through into the venue past doors closing. The street was ghastly, located in one of the most dangerous parts of the metropolis housing anything from cheap alcohol and sex to designer drugs and assassins. Anything one could desire, they could find here. Was this really your home?

“Yes. With me.” Seonghwa was reeling you back. A click, and the car was unlocked. Keeping you within reach, he leaned to open the passenger door. You shook your head.

“No… no… I don’t want to be a-”

“Don’t want to be a what?” he insisted, and squeezed your upper arms, as if he was about to shake the answer out.

“A criminal.”

“The fuck?”

“I am… look… I was… Again I was so ready to-” the man who was probably still in that alleyway, blood spilling like wine out of a glass that toppled over, occupied your vision, and you gawped at the bloodstain on Seonghwa’s cheek.

“But you didn’t. You did not kill him.” Sighing, he stated as-a-matter-of-factly, not wishing to deal with a breakdown, far too attracted to you physically to care for what effect his expression of affection had.

“But I made you…”

“Oh baby, no you didn’t. I did it out of love for you. You had no part in this except being my angel. Darling, Y/N, come on…” picking his words carefully, he permeated your barriers, crawling into the expanse of your mind palace like a virus.

“I am no angel. The law literally says I committed crimes. I should not be here. I should never be here-”

Evidently this caring approach was not functional. You were simply melting into him and turning into a sappy mess, instead of the coldhearted bitch who he had spoken to in the club. Where were you? Where was the goddess who wanted nothing more but to hurt him? He had deconstructed you a little too much, it seemed, you needed a bit more venom in your system. Seonghwa snapped.

“You know what. You are right.”

“Huh?” still too dazed to answer properly, you hummed.

“Who do you think got you out of a jail sentence in the first place, huh?”

“I- I don’t… What?” eyes narrowing, Seonghwa peered into your soul. He needed you to wake up if he was going to give into his obsession.

“Talk to me. Take a guess. Do you really think that the judge was benevolent? Fuck… girl, you’re naive. That bastard passes his bank account around the courtroom, you really think he woke up one day and felt like being nice just because? Oh no… sweetheart. I got you out. You hear me? I did. Because like hell are you gonna be anybody else’s. Huh, you tried your best with that idiot rotting in the ground. Bet you screamed my name as he fucked you, right? Tell me, is that right? SPEAK, sweetheart, don’t piss me off.”

Noticing how you could not contain your tremors, he released his grip on your upper arms, only to position your hands so that they rested on his waist, while his cupped your face. What was supposed to be an intimate gesture felt like a stare down with a wild beast. His expression was that of a predator, pupils dilated so he could refresh the memories of every piece of you, while his lips curled into what you interpreted as a crooked, pitying smile.

If you did not know better, you would have believed that your love that was reflected in his dark orbs was actually his. But he was a twisted, terrifying man, who could only take. As such, most you could expect was his suffocating coddling, his treatment of you like you were of his design. His cooing as he peered at you and saw how you were putty under his touch. You hated him precisely because you knew you could never escape.

“Oh baby… my lovely little angel, look at you. Don’t you know that I would do anything to make you smile? Come on, you know that right?” he wiped a stray tear with his right hand, and you swore you caught a quiff of blood and gunpowder, blending with a hint of alcohol that was still on his breath from earlier, all to be washed away by that scent you always adored, vanilla, flowers, coffee. Seonghwa. You nodded, which seemed to provide relief for the man.

“And I will never let your pretty hands get dirty, okay? If you need somebody dead just say it my darling and I will do it. Me. You are my angel. And now, let me prove it to you, alright?”

Whatever noise had existed before was now but a soft buzz of a streetlamp. No rustling. Not a single droplet. Suspended in an intimate fog, you studied the criminal, the hardened killer, the bloodthirsty demon in front of you. The one who was so hellbent on getting you to follow him to the realm below, even though you had never left. It was simple. He led, you followed. He told you to jump, you jumped. That was all he wished for. And perhaps this was indeed your fate. Not to be rushing around in hospital corridors, nor to be collecting banknotes in a g-string. But to completely fall from grace for the embodiment of an apocalypse, who more than willingly closed the space between you to taste the lust you had been suppressing, relishing your shared sin.

Bang bang, that awful sound…

The wind styled your locks as Seonghwa sped deeper into the night, abandoning the artificial lighting of the underworld district. From bars and clubs, to sleepy neighbourhoods, and finally, the inspiring expanse of rolling hills and rocky slopes, he was taking you to a place where you would never be bothered nor controlled, yet one that gave you a view of the city that was so breathtaking, that it was easy to believe you could destroy it. Estelle would be smaller than ever, and your problems would be nothing more than a haze on the line of the horizon. The cliffside had been your spot when you were something of an item, with you always begging for Seonghwa to take you there, if not for the alone time, then at least for the striking skyline. How oddly romantic of him to pick the spot now.

Relaxing into the leather seat of the Rolls Royce convertible, a new addition to Seonghwa’s collection - as he had informed before starting the car, you tested the strength of the breeze by stretching your hand out of the window and letting it float. After a couple of tries, you finally got into the right pose for minimal resistance, and pretended that you were a bird, soaring, cageless. The glimmering dots of the city even further from you than now as you spread your little wings and lifted yourself towards freedom. In moments like these, you were happy to be able to enjoy the simplicities, and it was easier than ever to pretend that you were not the Y/N who had fallen so irreversibly for a beast, that to you even his lies sounded like the truth. And, of course, it was easy to imagine that Seonghwa himself was capable of feeling love.

He did not bother taking off his gloves nor, which was uncharacteristic of him, clearing the remnants of the execution off his face, as if it was a badge of honour. Interestingly, the more you observed the gangster, the more you got used to the new additions and even took them as complementing features. While he kept one hand on the steering wheel, he continuously seeked contact with you, the other gripping your thigh as if to make sure that you were still there in the car with him and were not a hallucination. The exhilarating velocity at which the car dashed past trees, somnolent villas and road signs was barely letting you catch your breath due to Seonghwa choosing to keep the roof off, and so to stabilise yourself you returned the gesture. The smirk into which his lips curled was not quite as threatening as it had appeared before, however his aggressive slam on the accelerator made you start praying. What would the family that had not yet disowned you think, if they were to find you in a crashed car with one of the most notorious men in the region? You chuckled; they would probably agree that at least the last thing you saw was beauty himself.

Finally, you approached the secluded location, and fortunately, it was as abandoned as ever. Grinding to a halt on a gravelly clearing, beyond which were two lines of wooden fences that had been set up at the very edge of the small cliff, Seonghwa set the car into parking, cranked the handbrake and turned off the ignition. A deafening silence overtook you as you looked up at the night sky, twinkling stars reminding you of the collection of silver that hung around the enigmatic fiend’s neck and on his left ear. In the absence of machinery, you could feel his presence even more acutely, and the anticipation for what he undoubtedly had planned was reducing the supposed coolness of the hour into a mere deception. Your body was burning up, and as Seonghwa’s hand moved higher and higher until it was teasing you by playing with the drawstrings of your tracksuit bottoms you had to consciously remind yourself to breathe.

You stared out at the metropolis through the windshield, registering your beloved criminal’s movements towards you. As you studied the glinting whites, reds and yellows that formed the urban starscape, you could not help but ponder how, out of all the millions of people, in this architectural phenomenon that seemed to stretch on forever, on a day when you were not even supposed to be where you had ended up being, you had run into none other than Park Seonghwa. And as fate would have it, you were naive enough to let him take everything from you. And being the loved up, hypnotised fool that you were, you thanked him for the misery in which you found yourself, because at least he made you feel. With him you were a disaster, but you saw life in colour. With him it was impossible to tell whether there would be a tomorrow, but you could exist in an exuberant today. With him, the everchanging palette of emotion had a canvas to paint on. And tonight, you were going to let the masterpiece create itself.

“Take the gloves off if you want to touch me so badly.” you derided him for his eagerness, though did not see any dampening to it. On the contrary, he appeared to be more drawn to you than ever, mumbling a ‘sure thing, darling’ as he unbuttoned the leather, and slid the pair off his hands with his canines to speed up the process. The gloves found a home in the compartment underneath the wheel, to join the harness and pistol that he had stashed away there.

“Good?” he asked, giving you a mischievous grin.

“Good.” no more words were needed for him to pull you towards him, and lock your lips together in a feverish, thrilling kiss.

Oh, how you missed this. How you missed the mind-numbing sensation of his hand on the back of your neck, how soft his lips were compared to his sharp and intimidatingly stunning appearance. You moved in a familiar rhythm, having recognised one another’s alluring presence and only wanting more with each passing second. Frustrated with the remaining distance, Seonghwa growled into you and dragged you by your top; understanding his goal, you rose from your seat and promptly were settled on his lap, grinding against his growing erection that was concealed by too many layers of clothing for your liking.

Brushing his hair back, lightly tugging on it as you reached the ends, you were giving yourself up to the scalding hot hellfire. Your memory did not fail you: the action elicited a groan, and the kiss was further deepened until your lungs were screaming for oxygen. Pulling away, you gasped, only to be alerted by a stinging pain on your cheek, and a hostile grimace on the man, whose hand was hovering next to your jawline.

“Did I say you could pull away?”

“And since when are you so damn needy?” You challenged, slapping away the hand that had just collided with you, and placing yours on his exposed throat, not bothering to ease into the action as you pushed your digits into the sensitive skin, restricting his airflow and preventing him from taunting you with a mocking retort.

You continued to rock your hips forward, sensing your own arousal climbing further and further amidst the enjoyment of the man’s temporary obedience. You watched his eyes roll back momentarily, and he attempted to tilt his head towards you and steal your lips, only for you to wriggle in his lap until you were completely out of his reach, still holding his neck.

Seonghwa was seeing stars, and yet amongst them you still shined the brightest. There you were. This was who he was searching for. When he was at his limit, and could no longer withstand the restraint, he rapidly reached for your wrist and yanked your arm away, making you yelp. To prevent you from attempting anything similar, he used his hands as cuffs to keep you under his control, and pulled you to him. Giving you a smirk corrupted by lust, he kissed you again, only this time letting his long tongue part your mouth, and swirl itself around.

Wanton sounds filled your mind and preoccupied your ears as you parted, strings of saliva connecting you. Apparently dissatisfied, Seonghwa raised an eyebrow, and gripped your waist. Sitting up, he mumbled ‘back seat’ and stumbled out of the car with you wrapped around him. In seconds, you were lying on the couch-like leather, Seonghwa above you as he shifted his attention to your neck, leaving trails of spit, and nipping at the skin until he saw the beloved bruising begin to show. Sucking above the jugular vein, he imagined himself tearing you apart then and there. Destroying you. But the way in which your hands swiftly moved to unbutton his shirt was too enticing to not commend.

“Look who is needy now.” he teased, and reached for the zipper on your hoodie, unable to contain a pleased sigh as he saw that you had not changed out of the white dancewear. As soon as the hoodie was off, and flying in the direction of the steering wheel, he let himself devour the tainted goddess that you were.

Trailing over the fabric, he did not wish to take it off, the image of you around the pole still fresh in his mind and amplifying his lust. His lips made contact with your chest as he added more love bites to his abstract design.

“You drove me crazy earlier tonight with those moves of yours. How could you even consider anything else when you have a body made to sin?”

“I think you are batshit by default.”

“Do you want me to punish you again?” he threatened, discontented when it had no effect on you as you contended.

“By what, hitting me? Two can play that game-” as soon as he saw your hand flying towards him, he caught it and forced it down by you, and chuckled.

“Be a good girl and you’ll come.”

“Big deal.”

“Says the whore who was grinding against me.”

He shifted to untie your sweats, and dragged the material down to reveal your matching white g-string, stopping for a second before moving to take it off too. The bra was going to be enough for him.

“Says the reprobate with a hardon from the bare minimum.”

He did not respond, too enraptured by the sight before him. Your form, laid out and so familiar, and yet, the newfound resolve and the bite in your words was boundlessly more attractive than the mellow nurse in training that he had fucked before. The blaze that had festered and grown within you, painting your psyche and very essence in the soot of detestation was a guiding light to him, a star in the pitch black that he gravitated towards, and wished to take over. Your strength and determination spurred him on and inspired him to make you reach the point of no return. How? He was yet to decide. But that came after he had his fill of your intoxicating body.

“Damn, Y/N, do I even need to get you ready for me? You’re so fucking wet-” he remarked, running a hand over your pussy, with it immediately receiving a dose of your slick.

“Guess you don’t.” you countered, attempting to shut your legs together, but to no avail as your brattiness only encouraged him.

“You know what. I am in a giving mood. A changed man. Ready to commit some good deeds.” he announced to you in a low, borderline monstrous tone as Seonghwa pulled you by your ankles closer to him and began to work at your arousal.

After a slow start, where he languidly circled your nub until you gave out a whine, the man dedicated himself wholly, and soon enough, you were sinking into a sensual paradise. The two digits pumped into you, while with his other hand Seonghwa was stimulating your sensitive clit relentlessly, rubbing the erect nub until you were barely able to produce any sound at all. Pressing his thumb right against its tip, he curled his fingers and beckoned you closer to a climax, stopping the motions, he kept his hand inside as he replaced the finger that was dominating your clit with another thumb, and instead took to rapidly building you up with practised, fast flicks, higher, higher, just as you were about to-

Your hips jerked up, only to be met with a total emptiness as you tried desperately to coax Seonghwa into giving you your orgasm, to which he only responded with a click of his tongue, and a demonstrative sucking of his digits as you watched him with a glazed over expression.

“You rude, unbearable menace.”

“Awh, is my precious angel angry that I did not give you what you wanted?” he asked, giving his cock a couple of pumps before making a circular motion with his index finger and ordering you.

“On your hands and knees, like the bitch you are.” immediately, you obliged, unable to contain yourself after he had denied you what you had been seeking, with that devilish grin suggesting just how much the notion had excited him. Finally, he undid his belt and trousers, letting his aching length spring free, a hiss escaping Seonghwa as the cool air hit it.

Finding your slick-coated pussy with the tip of his cock, he teased you, repeatedly moving it back and forth between your folds. When you let out a whine, rocking your ass side to side in an attempt to deliver your need for more friction, Seonghwa merely chuckled and pushed forward, keeping his member flush against your sex, but not offering any relief. Your wetness coated him as he continued the torturous act, pausing to flick your clit and snicker at just how desperate you had become for his dick.

“Tell me if you want it.” Seonghwa wanted to hear you beg, or sigh, or anything else to suggest that you were fully pliable, but what had come out of your dirty mouth surpassed all his wishes.

“You want this pussy more than I want you, judging by how fucking hard your cock is, Hwa.”

Without as much as a warning, he put an end to the foreplay and slammed his hips against yours, sinking deep inside and groaning at the warm invitation of your walls. As he heard you yell out, he mercilessly glided back until only his tip was between your labia, only to thrust and bottom out once more. And again. And again. Just as he had remembered from the nights he had you before, this left you trembling, and soon enough your body was pleading for more, to which he happily obliged, smacking you on the ass and speeding up.

The feeling of you spasming around him and the feeble moans were an unrivalled art. He positioned one hand to hook around you and held it against the area right below your belly, biting his lip as he felt his dick pushing deep inside you, the bulge detectable by his palm. Closing his eyes, Seonghwa focused on this sensation, thereby slowing down ever so slightly, and moving to hit the spot that accelerated the growth of the knot in your tightening core.

“A-ah… Seong… hwa…” you mewled into each stroke, hazy and unable to form anything more than nonsensical babble.

“That’s right, darling, only I can make you feel this good.”

Seonghwa was despicable, because he knew exactly how to make you lose your mind and fall apart under him and forget that you ever hated him at all, driven only by a carnal passion. Having had enough practice to study you, you were at his mercy as he provided the exact fullness that you had been desiring for so long, the exact firm thrusts that were bringing you closer and closer to a total fall, and the honey-laden voice that had you turning even weaker.

“My- darling-”

Your climax came down on you hard and fast, and you crumbled into the shaking that washed over you, forehead almost connecting with the back of the seats if not for the fistful of your tresses that Seonghwa had grabbed. Not letting you ride out your high, he quickened his pace and each thrust was making your vision darken and your moans turn into pathetic wails, drowned out by the lewd slapping of skin against skin that was lubricated by your orgasm. Using you as a fucktoy, he chased his own high and pushed you into an abyss of violent pleasure, ceasing to abuse your cunt only when he deemed it necessary for himself.

He slid his cock out of your pulsating sex, dragging it over your clit before ushering you to kneel before him. Movements still too slow and lagging, Seonghwa proceeded to guide one leg, then another down, so that you were ready for him. Lifting your chin, he he peered into your hazy orbs and commanded:

“Open.”

As you slackened your jaw and opened your mouth wide in obedience, he spat into it, and upon positioning one of his hands at the back of your head and the other at the base of his member, he slid into the warmth, sighing as your tongue glided along his throbbing length, as if encouraging him to go deeper until his tip hit the very limit and bumped against the back of your throat. You struggled to suppress your gag reflex, but the salaciousness of the combination of yours and his spit and your orgasm dribbling around his cock as you began to bob your head was driving Seonghwa to the brink of insanity, and you desperately wanted to see him unravel entirely.

“Ah… that’s it. My good cock slut. This mouth is built… for me.”

You allowed him to choke you as he fucked your throat with abandon, submitting to the oncoming waves of his orgasm. Clawing at his thighs you seeked balance, to which he responded by pushing you even closer, earning a muted yelp. The vibration drove him over the edge as he pumped himself inside you only a few more times, before collapsing into a series of staggered bucks of the hips and a muttering of filthy curses.

“Swallow darling, I bet you were dreaming of this- ah, fuck-” he exclaimed.

He threw his head back as you centred yourself, trying to relax into how his hand that was tangled in your hair kept you so close that your nose was pressed against his pubic bone, though it proved to be an impossible challenge. In an effort to overcome the pain that spread over your jaw as Seonghwa refused to let go of you, you blinked away the moisture in your eyes and focused on the sensation of the hot, salty cum coating and running down the back of your throat.

When he finally released you from his hold and let you fall onto the floor of the car, you sputtered and gasped for air, vision having grown blurry. While he did not comfort you, nor praise you for how well you had taken him, even though judging from his state you could make your own conclusions about the performance, this roughness felt more real, more honest than the intimacy you had shared before. You licked the corners of your mouth, collecting the remnants of his cum and spit, and crawled up onto the leather seating to be met with open arms, a gesture which, in your exhaustion, you accepted.

Captured in a lazy embrace you admired the universe that surrounded you. The dawn was imminent, with some of the more enthusiastic birds already greeting you with their songs and the distant rumble of the city beginning to pick up, and yet none of this felt real. It was like you were floating in the air, tethered to the mortal realm only by the man beside you. You had taken the liberty of snatching Seonghwa’s suit jacket, considering that the outerwear you had been wearing had been unceremoniously discarded and thrown into the driver leg space, outside of your immediate reach.

You pondered what was going to happen after this broken reunion, that had been as always, orchestrated by the evil mastermind with a pretty face, currently resting on the seats, one arm over the door, the other on the back rest, head tilted to the sky. When you inspected one of the dark spots on the right sleeve of the jacket, you had come to realise that the dead man, who you had left behind to chase your pleasure, had, amidst his departure from the living, was trying to greet Seonghwa. Using his gang name, no less. You wanted to laugh until tears would be streaming down your face. Double over and, hands hitting your thighs, fail to compose yourself and continue laughing at just how ignorant you were. Fooled once again. Of course that scene had been this criminal’s doing. How else could anything ever happen to you if not with Seonghwa’s meddling? This overly involved, human embodiment of jeopardy who you had voluntarily invited in to share space and time, so elegant as he was devoid of movement, counting stars in the sky, the unbuttoned white shirt gracing his figure like a heavenly robe. It was a shame that you had to have chosen him to glorify, especially since he fit the role well enough to fit into your delusions.

As you sat upright, only to put your elbows on your knees and lean to catch your head in your hands, you mused whether you truly despised this man or not. It was almost habitual, routinely, to curse his name again, and again until it was nothing but an incoherent collection of syllables. It was your shield and clarity, your comprehension of the incorrigible man who, come the opportunity, would shoot you down the same way that he did to hundreds, if not thousands of others. It was heartbreaking, gut-wrenching, but unfortunately true. In his eyes the individuals with families, friends, hopes and dreams, hell, even those with nothing at all, were nothing but sacks of bone and blood that he could scare into submission, or drain if they disobeyed. Such were his methods. Methods that you had looked the other way from, making yourself believe that you were above that amateur, unjust purgatory. No matter how much of you Seonghwa received as an offering, it was never going to be enough. The seven deadly sins were a bucket list for him, and one in which he would outshine every reckless criminal. He was systematic, calculating, and would not hesitate to remove a variable that no longer served him.

You were serene, a ghost of a smile dancing on your lips. Slowly, you blinked, immersing yourself in the sensation of the bites, the kisses that the man you had once felt something for gifted you. Sultry tattoos that you would wear with the pride of a person who had defeated themselves, come to terms with, and learnt to coexist with inner turmoil. Nothing short of a miracle. If this hell were to continue, then you would simply have to adapt to live with the ebbs and flows of a turbulent tide. Hilarious, how you were treating Seonghwa as if he was a terminal disease that you had to live with, but the analogy was comforting. Until the moment when you would receive a bullet between your brows, you would strive to live fully, and remain indifferent. As much as you had wanted to ‘get the final word’, you had come to realise that all you had to say had been said, and he was no longer worth your time. Looking at the horizon, you spotted the sun beginning to stir under its heavy blankets, getting ready to rise.

“You thought about me, didn’t you?” Seonghwa’s voice broke your peace, and you turned to him, regarding his bewitching demeanour with a tired onceover.

“Hm?”

“You were thinking about me, in that alley way. Weren’t you?” so, he had realised now, too. However, you were not bothered to continue this discourse. Fascinating how the mind of even the most evil of men could get fixated on the simple things like a random good-for-nothing becoming a gourmet meal for maggots.

“I am not sure why or how that matters.”

“Would you kindly get the gun for me?” Now that piqued your interest, so you obliged, and reached over the front seats, aware of how your ass was on full display for Seonghwa though he had just seen you in even more lewd tones. After a couple of tries, the hand gun was in your hands, and hooking it by the trigger guard, you tried to pass it to its owner. To your surprise, he refused and you remained standing in your perplexion.

“What are you getting at?”

“You definitely thought about me. As a matter of fact you were thinking about doing this for a long time.” you could not deny that, and thus remained silent, “Remember how I taught you to fire a gun?” the man continued, and you nodded along.

“That I do, but again. Not sure how it applies.” you crossed your arms, the pistol swinging ever so slightly from your index finger.

“Don’t you want to fulfil your dream, darling?” he raised an eyebrow and grinned.

Another game. Another dare. Another attempt at making you feel something when you had no more emotions to spare. You were spent. For the first time since you had first come to be acquainted with Park Seonghwa, Seonghwa, Hwa, Mars, you saw a stranger. A passing face who you would regard, but most importantly, go on your merry way and never wish to see again. No more yearning, nor begging. He was cute when he thought he was in control. You chuckled, earning a questioning gaze from the ghost of your past.

“What is so amusing, my dear Y/N? So delighted that you can barely contain yourself?”

Oh, if only he knew. You steadied your breathing, and through half-lidded eyes, took in the man’s form that you had once worshipped. Everything had finally clicked, and unknowingly, the symphony in your mind was now fully composed, all to Seonghwa’s rhythm. Your magnum opus, by the visitation of a brutal muse, completed. With the softness of a stalking cat, you bent forward and came face to face with this boy, and with both hands, pressed the gun to his bare chest, smiling languidly as it collided with the necklaces to make a noteless tune. Seonghwa’s eyes widened as he followed your ascension back to now leaning against the front seat further from him, stifling a laugh of his own as he realised your intentions. The world held its breath as you dispelled your nightmare, and, light-hearted, like you were discussing daily happenings or the weather, asked him:

“You said you’d keep my hands clean, right?”

“Yes.” breathless, he whispered.

“You said you would kill anyone for me, right?” you continued sweetly, studying how Seonghwa checked the magazine and clicked the hammer with practised motions, appearing almost impressed.

“Yes.”

“Do anything to make me smile?” you tested, and he conceded, brushing a hand over the barrel, and looking up to memorise your every detail.

“Yes.”

“Then prove it. And make me smile. One last time.”

You uttered, admiring how his perfect skin, his gorgeous eyes, his dark soul glowed, caught ablaze in the rays of the rising sun.

Bang bang, my baby shot me down.

752 notes · View notes

jungle-angel · 8 months

Note

😲 more prompts!! omg ❤️‍🩹 can we get 1 and 17 for bob, please?

Oh honey absolutely!!!!!!! I just watched The Caine Mutiny Court Martial and needless to say, it did very, very unholy things to me (lol).

Your poor husband hadn't stopped coughing since he had gotten home from the party at the hotel last night, the wetness having settled in his chest and offering him no relief from the bone cracking coughing.

"Still feeling terrible Admiral Floyd?" you chuckled, kissing his warm forehead.

"I think I need a doctor," Bob croaked, finally having a chance to take in a breath.

You kissed him again, not caring in the least if you got sick. Bob reached out, his gentle hand caressing your bump to feel the kicking of the baby boy who was just weeks away from being born. "Sweetheart, I don't want you both getting sick," he groaned.

"Bob I already checked with your sister," you assured him. "She said if it happens alot more than you think. The best she can do is keep an eye on it."

"I know, I'm just being overprotective," he told you before another round of hacking began.

You drew the duvet over him and wiped away the sweat from his forehead with a rag you kept in the bathroom. You should've known that winter was prime season for sicknesses if your students at Auggie and Patrick's Waldorf School had taught you anything.

"Do you wanna go to the urgent-care clinic up the road?" you asked.

"Maybe Mickey can bring me?" Bob asked. "Unless the doc's still doing house calls."

"Here," you said, pulling a pair of jeans, his blue button-down and his navy blue Carhardt jacket out of the closet. "Get these on and I'll call either Mickey or Jake to take you to urgent-care."

Bob hummed a weak response as he slipped into a fresh set of clothes. Sure enough, both Mickey and Jake had shown up while Phoenix had come by to keep you company.

**************

"Take another deep breath for me," the doctor told him.

Bob took another deep breath as the Navy doctor listened to his heart and lungs, the crackling in the airways obvious enough to indicate an infection.

"Well, the good news is that it's treatable," the doctor told him. "You'll have to be on antibiotics for a week, taken with food and absolutely no dairy until this thing has cleared."

"Damnit," Bob silently mouthed. Growing up on a ranch all his life had made him a fiend for milk, cheese and yogurt, but getting this infection cleared was top priority.

"Scrip will be available at the PX pharmacy and can be picked up anytime," the doctor told him. "I highly suggest you go home and get some rest in the meantime."

"Thanks doc," Bob said before gathering his jacket and the slip to leave.

He followed Jake and Mickey both to Jake's truck, wanting nothing more than to get home and rest and trying to suppress the cough that was still rumbling in his lungs.

"You sound like you need a shot of whiskey and bed," Jake chuckled.

"Fuck you Hangman," Bob groaned, laughing a little.

*************

"Mommy! Mommy! Daddy's home!! Daddy's Home!!!" Auggie chirped when he saw the truck pulling into Jake's driveway and letting Bob out.

You hoisted yourself out of the cozy window bench where you and Auggie had been reading, the fire crackling away in the fireplace while the snow fell outside and while Natasha had been preparing lunch in the kitchen.

Bob opened the front door and immediately Jock, the little black Scottish terrier, had jumped from Auggie's lap to paw at Bob's leg, his little tartan sweater keeping out the harsh winter cold that blew in through the front door.

"Hi sweetheart," you said, taking each other in your arms before he started coughing again.

You kissed his cold, reddened cheeks before Auggie came bounding in from the living room. "Daddy, you sick?" he asked.

"Uh huh," Bob answered, scooping up his son and kissing his cheek in return. "Gonna go lie down."

You helped Bob upstairs with Jock following you, letting him crawl right back under those covers, shuddering from the cold but brief walk into the house. Jock yipped a little before crawling in beside his master, licking Bob's cheeks and making him laugh a little before you kissed your husband.

"Auggie what are you doing?" you chuckled.

"I've gotta take care of Daddy," the bespectacled five year old announced proudly.

You laughed a little upon seeing Auggie in his little doctor's uniform that had been his Halloween costume, carrying a ziploc bag full of the first aid items you kept around the house.

"Ok now Daddy, open your mouth and stick out your tongue," Auggie demanded.

Bob playfully stuck his tongue out at Auggie but didn't open his mouth.

"No Daddy, stop doing that lizard thing," Auggie told him, pretending to be stern. "I gotta look into your mouth and see what made you sick."

You were biting your knuckles, resisting the urge to laugh.

"Yep!" Auggie exclaimed, shining the flashlight into Bob's open mouth. "You've got worms."

"Worms?!" you blurted out, unable to control your laughter anymore.

"Looks like we've gotta operate Daddy," Auggie concluded. "But before we do I gotta have you throw up into this."

Bob was laughing and coughing all at once as Auggie held up Jock's empty water dish near the bed he shared with Dolly, the little Pekingese puppy who was probably playing with Diedre in her room.

"Alright Doctor Auggie, out, out, let Daddy rest," you told him.

Bob pulled you in for another kiss, still laughing once the coughing had subsided.

"Daddy," chirped a quiet little voice from the three year old standing in the doorway in his little dark green turtleneck and denim overalls.

"What's up Patrick?" Bob croaked.

"Mommy said you sick, so I brought you Teddy," Patrick told him.

Bob was melting at the sight of the fuzzy, cuddly little teddy bear that Patrick had in his hands. It was the same one you and Bob had gotten when you had taken Auggie and Patrick to their very first Red Sox game, a fuzzy little vintage bear with curly fur and his own little red, white and blue Red Sox jersey and little wooden bat. Though the bat was still sitting on Patrick's dresser, the fuzzy little bear had been the one stuffie Patrick always snuggled with when he was sick.

"C'mere buddy," Bob croaked again, lifting his little son up onto the bed and giving him the tightest hug he could give him. "And thank you."

Patrick reached up with his little hands to grab Bob's face, planting a big wet kiss right on his father's cheek, jumping off the bed and waddle-running out of the room to go eat lunch.

"You ok?" you asked Bob.

"I'm alright sweet pea," Bob assured you. "I thought it was cute that they tried."

You smiled at your husband, gently caressing his cheek as he melted into your touch, only to be interrupted by the growling of his belly.

"You hungry now?" you chuckled.

Bob nodded. "Can I have some hot chicken soup?"

"Anything for you Bob," you answered, kissing his cheek before you went down to the kitchen to get him some of the hot chicken soup that Phoenix had made.

You returned just a minute later with the mug full of soup, steaming and hot for Bob and a thick crust of grainy bread for him to eat with it. When he had finished, you crawled in beside him, his hand pulling the duvet over the both of you as you turned out the lights and settled in with Jock having moved to the foot of the bed and warming your feet.

#top gun maverick #robert bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #admiral!bob #admiral!bob floyd #admiral!bob floyd x reader #dagger squad

121 notes · View notes

spaghettificationandpretzels · 11 months

Note

Hi! Congratulations on hitting 1000 followers!

For the celebration, can I please get Raymond Smith and "Why are you in my house?"

Thank you!

Masterlist

Late Night Drop In

Contains: Harassment, violence, mild angst, fluff.

1.3K words

“A gentleman is someone who does not what he wants to do, but what he should do.”- Haruki Murakami.

"I'm glad you could come y/n." Raymond was as stiff as ever as he sipped his whiskey.

"There's not much else to do on a Wednesday night, plus Ros invited me." You could never tell if he liked you or not, sometimes, you would get along like a house on fire, and sometimes he acted like you weren't even there, but he was a particular man at the best of times.

"Can I get you a drink?" So he was in a good mood tonight.

"Sure, I'll take a beer." He waved the bartender over and a pint of slid in front of you, "Thanks. How's work been?"

"Busy, the legal market is something else. What about you, did you manage to get that grant?" For someone who didn't seem interested, he sure remembered a lot.

"I did, it's looking like we'll be able to pay for an extension to the clinic." You had a feeling Mickey might have had something to do with it, but if Ray helped was another thing altogether.

The smile he gave you was genuine, "That's great news."

"Yeah, I'm over the moon..."

"Hey, can I get your number?" You blinked at the man who appeared between you and Ray; he stood so close to your that you could smell the booze on his breath.

"No." Ray's eyes went from your face to the man as he took in the situation.

"Come on, it's just your number. I'm not a serial killer." That's just what a serial killer would say, you thought to yourself.

"I said no. I was having a conversation with my friend now, please leave me alone." You felt a shudder up your spine as his face hardened.

"The lady made her point, it's time for you to leave." Ray's voice was deceptively calm, but you knew that didn't mean anything.

"Listen bit...." You managed to move out of the way as Ray ripped him away from you, "What the fuck do you want?"

Ray pushed his glasses back up, "I want you to leave my pub."

He spun on his heel, but it became clear that it was only to hide the fact that he was pulling a knife from his jacket, "You wanna be a tough man, ah?"

Ray moved in a flurry, and there was a sickening crack as he grabbed the man's wrist and twisted. The man seemed to have a death wish because he swung at Ray with his uninjured hand after dropping the knife.

There was a moment where you could see the rage on Ray's face, then it was back to its calm mask as he took the man to the ground, "Get out now."

"Fuck y...."

"You heard the man, get out. Everyone else too." Mickey's accent cut through the air like a razor and people scrambled to leave.

The man went pale when he realised what he had done and tried to stutter out a reply, "I'm sorry man, I had no idea."

Ray looked right through him, "Get out, or I will drag you out."

On the way, Rosalind threw him a wade of cash, "For your wrist, if you tell anyone about what happened here, we'll make sure everyone you know sees the survivance tapes."

Ray was back to sipping his whiskey like nothing had happened, and Mickey wandered over with a smile, "You wanna tell me what just happened?"

"Ray could have gotten himself killed over some idiot is what just happened." You didn't know why you were so pissed about it, he probably saved you a night in A&E.

"I did what I had to so that guy didn't hurt you." He sounded worried, not angry.

"I didn't ask you to do that. Just like I didn't ask you to take me home the night I was drunk or follow me for three days when that asshole from the clinic started stalking me." When he wasn't ignoring you, he really did go out of his way for you.

"You don't seem to know who you're friends with, we have people who could gain a lot by getting their hands on you." Ray regretted how he posed it the moment it came out of his mouth.

You huffed, "Oh, so this is about business? Here's me thinking you're just over an overzealous friend." You picked up your bag and headed towards the door, "I'm going home, it's outside business hours so I don't need to be here."

Ray rubbed his face as the door closed and Mickey went behind the bar and poured Ray another drink, "You need to tell her how you feel."

Ray sighed, "You really think she's going to want to see me after that?"

Ros cleared her throat and sipped her wine, "You never know Ray, she might feel the same way about you."

Ray blinked and the realisation hit him, "Ah fuck."

Mickey nodded, "Ah fuck indeed Ray."

****

You shot out of bed when you heard the cupboards open and reached under your bed to pick up the baseball bat, which you proceeded to drop when you saw Ray in your kitchen, "Why are you in my house?"

"I need to talk you." He was in different clothes and it looked like he hadn't been to bed.

"At three in the morning, how did you get in here and what is the pressing matter you need to discuss?" You had a bad feeling it would be about something you were hesitant to name.

"I used the key you hid under the mat. I want to say sorry for how I acted and what I said. It was wrong and uncalled for." He paused and took a breath, "I have been keeping something from you and it has caused me to act badly."

You vaguely recall telling him it was there when he took your drunk ass home that night, "Ok, you wanna tell me what it is?"

He took another breath before meeting your eye, "I have grown quiet fond of you and I was unsure of how to tell you."

"You have grown fond of me, are you saying you love me?" He nodded and went to speak but you held up a hand, "So you choose to tell me this now and not before you broke a man's wrist on my behalf?"

Ray sighed, "Yes, and I'm sorry for that."

You sighed and flopped down on the couch, "Did Ros say anything to you?"

He nodded, "She may have mentioned something."

"Then I guess this is my fault too and we're both guilty of hiding our feelings." You didn't miss the small smile that ticked up Ray's plump lips before he got himself back under control.

Ray came and sat beside you, "I see, and how long have you returned my feelings?"

"Since the night I got drunk, I was surprised I didn't tell you there and then." You took his hand in yours and squeezed, "I love you Raymond."

His face finally broke into a smile, "I love you too y/n."

You leaned in and closed the gap, pressing your lips to his as he took your face in his hands. You pulled back and rubbed his nose with yours, "I really want to go back to bed, maybe you can join me?" You cut him off as a smirk grew on his face, "Just to sleep you heathen."

Ray stood up and took you with him, kissing you one last time before gesturing towards the bedroom, "After you love."

He stood in your bedroom with a strange look on his face and pointed to his jeans and you sighed, "You can sleep in your boxers, it's not like I'm not going to be seeing at a lot you."

Ray stripped off and you averted your eyes so you didn't gawk when he was left in nothing but a pair of tight black briefs. You threw back the covers on the unused side, patted the pillow, and Ray climbed into bed. You paused for a moment and Ray seemly got the message and opened his arms.

You snuggled close and rested your head on his chest, his heart drumming under your ear, "Goodnight Ray, I love you."

He pressed his lips to your forehead and ran his hand up and down your arm, "Goodnight y/n. I love you too."

Fin

#raymond smith x you #raymond smith x reader #raymond smith #charlie hunnam fanfiction #the gentleman #charlie hunnam

217 notes · View notes

attapullman · 5 months

Text

whodunit? / prologue

Summary: Meet Bob & Fanboy, the nosy kids on the block who now solve mysteries in this sleepy little town. When they're not cracking beers by the pool, you can catch them at the diner down the road hitting on waitresses and cranking the jukebox. But what's going on at the bank? And why do you look so upset?

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: f!reader, food and alchohol mentions, 80s inaccuracies

mo's note: thanks for checking out this silly little 80s sleuth!au series the infamous bathroom photos sparked in me! and biggest shout to @bobgasm for letting me talk an ear off about these heart-stealing hometown heroes!

prologue / whodunit? masterlist / one

*clink*

The sun had barely bathed the modular, dusky pink apartment complex in a warm glow when Bob and Fanboy tapped their celebratory mid-morning beers in a cheers. The best friends, in their mismatched lawn chairs next to the apartment’s kidney pool, glug down a sip before resting back to enjoy the sun. Another mystery solved, another ‘solved it’ beer opened.

Fanboy chugs down half, wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his King Kong long-sleeve. It’s been a minute since they’ve allowed themselves the good beer. There hadn’t been a case for a while before this week’s dropped in their lap.

That was part of the issue of only solving mysteries in a town no bigger than a postage stamp - there wasn’t a lot of crime. The occasional police consulting helped keep the bills paid, but mostly it was a few odd dollars to track down who was having an affair with who. Something Fanboy’s mom could figure out, the township’s gossip hive very well informed.

Beside him, Bob was quiet. Not out of the ordinary, but normally he had some sort of soliloquy about helping out the townsfolk. It had taken them three days to figure out who was taking the Patterson mail every day: interrogating the neighbors, talking to Phil the postman, sneaking into the back of the small post office. Only for the Patterson’s son to be the culprit to hide his report card. Twenty bucks later, they had the rest of the afternoon off and a six-pack of the good beers.

Bob finally clears his throat, pushing back the hair curling around his neck, aviators slipping down his nose. “Another good job, man.”

Always a man of few words.

It was small town mysteries like missing mail that kept them in business. Mickey “Fanboy” Garcia and Robert “Bob” Floyd had grown up here, two overactive boys whose mothers wanted them out of the house away from their Star Trek and quarters collections. What else was there to do outside than figure out why Mrs. Palomino and Mr. Altman down the block always seemed to both come home from lunch at the same time?

Spoiler: The discovery of the extra-marital affair had gotten them grounded for a week, but had given them both the sleuthing bug they could not shake.

Now it was decades later. There was hair on their chests (kind of - Bob’s was so pale you needed the right light to see it) and they were somewhat making a living out of their boyhood pastime. Move over Hardy Boys, Fanboy and Bob have got this town covered.

It had been Mickey’s idea to make their boyhood sleuthing shenanigans an actual money maker. Bob was helping his old man fix cars - how he’d gotten his ’65 Mustang with the cream interior Fanboy wasn’t allowed to drive - and it had taken little convincing to put up fliers advertising the were open for business.

A car horn pierces their relaxing morning, shattering whatever calm a 10AM Sierra Nevada Pale Ale provides.

A neighbor walks by, fresh off their night shift. They raise their morning beers in greeting before turning back to the half-empty pool before them. The apartment complex was…okay. Better than living with their folks, though. Their unit had peeling paint and the water heater took the entire length of Fleetwood Mac’s “Hold Me” to produce any hot water. Not quite the place to take a sweet thing home, but made do. Between Bob installing transmissions and Fanboy’s city hall maintenance gig, solving small town mysteries in their off hours, the best friends were making a life in their hometown.

After wasting the morning talking movies and girls, lunch was at the diner a few blocks down. Checkerboard floors and vinyl booths greeted customers over the sounds of Soft Cell and Michael Jackson. The boys settled themselves in a booth near the counter, where Fanboy could get a better look at the new waitress with the slick ponytail and glossy smile. She was stunning and he was smitten.

Before she started they maybe ate at the diner once a week, opting for fast food or the bistro with a much better reuben. But now they were here nearly daily, Fanboy always making some excuse for fries, a Coke, or a chocolate shake so he could flirt and show off his curly mullet. His best friend and business partner was a good wingman, otherwise he would have lost it by how many times he’s heard Blondie’s “Call Me” this month.

That had always been their dynamic - Fanboy leading the battle with where to go, what to do, who to see, and quiet Bob picking up any pieces his bud dropped along the way.

As a Sunday with no responsibilities, the two enjoy their burgers and Cokes, laughs stuck on their faces. Bob teases his friend about his crush (not that Robert is much more of a ladies' man) and the two keep her busy with innocent questions about music and whether a banana split or chocolate sundae is better. Fanboy insists a chocolate sundae is the only option. Other customers join on the debate, the jukebox providing a lively soundtrack.

Just another chill Sunday in a sleepy little town.

It takes a firm grip on his upper arm and a pointed look to finally get Fanboy to leave the diner and his crush. The late afternoon sun assaults them as they push open the doors, Bob quickly pulling down his shades to cover his sensitive baby blues. To his side, Fanboy lights a cigarette, tapping the ash into the pavement on their way home.

A squad car catches their eye, not a regular sight in this part of town. They wave as the police captain rounds the corner, the father of a former classmate. The man is all business and nods back with his serious frown before turning back to the building.

It’s only then the amateur sleuths realize it’s not just one squad car, but several that are littering the street between the diner and the local bank. Officers marching in and out of the older building, heads pulled together in hushed voices. One navy-clad patrol officer strings bright crime scene tape across the glass door that’s been welcoming customers since 1894. Since it’s Sunday there are no customers, so where’s the crime?

The hometown heroes cross the street, trying to blend in despite Fanboy’s bright green ball cap. They’ve almost fully integrated themselves into the scene when a loud voice booms, “Where do you two think you’re going?”

The police captain’s bark is one they know well. From being told to butt out when they’ve gotten a little too nosy, to helping out on investigations, Bob and Fanboy have spent their fair time with the burly man with the impressive mustache who likes to yell. He tolerates their presence on a good day, rues their existence on a bad one.

“What happened, Captain?” Fanboy tries to look inside the bank, but it’s just more officers milling around. No employees seem to be in the vicinity. What was going on?

And that’s when Bob spots you. Sitting on the bench behind your father, head in your hands, eyes weary with stress. His lieutenant sits beside you - also mustached, Bradley would grow a tail if his captain did - trying to take your statement like he has for the past hour. But you don’t know anything, you’re just an assistant manager.

It’s your day off. You forgot your paycheck from Friday in your locker and used your opening key to quickly run the errand before dinner. There was no one around. The security officer was on break. The vault was open. And the massive pallet of cash being picked up first thing tomorrow is gone.

You raise your eyes from your trembling hands and shake your head. This cannot be happening. Your dad is beside himself, already screaming at one officer who insinuated you knew anything about the stolen money. A glimpse of battered cowboy boots - does Bob Floyd wear anything else? - and that’s when you catch the eye of the crime-solving duo you’ve known since childhood.

“Mickey? Robert? You have to help me.”

taglist: @bobgasm @roosterforme @bradshawsbaby @just-in-case-iloveyou @bcarolinablr @petersunderoos96 @yuckosworld @maryelizabeth13

join the taglist for whodunit? and more

#top gun: maverick au #top gun: maverick fan fiction #mickey fanboy garcia fan fiction #mickey fanboy garcia fic #robert bob floyd fan fiction #robert bob floyd fic #mickey fanboy garcia #robert bob floyd #mickey garcia #bob floyd

64 notes · View notes

myocsfanfictions · 6 months

Text

South Side Story

Shameless Fanfiction Season 1

Desna Hills has come living in the Southside of Chicago four years before. Taken in by Kev and V, Desna is close friends with the Gallaghers. Let's see how this Southside story unfolds.

MASTERLIST

<< Previous - Next >>

Chapter 6

“Desna, the man at that table has been waving for you for five minutes.”

“Thanks Tommy,” Desna said sarcastically, glaring at one of the Alibi regulars as she passed by, with three beers in her hands, “Why don’t you put on an apron and start to serve?” She said as she tell Kevin to get others two beers and a shot of vodka ready, then she move again to make her way towards the table where the guy was waiting.

“And since you are at it, another three beers!” She heard Tommy said.

That day the Alibi was packed with people, she didn’t know where to turn. Desna has been working three hours and still didn’t had a single moment even to go to the bathroom.

“Girly! Give me my beer!” She heard the voice of Frank Gallagher as he entered the Alibi, already drunk.

“I’m sure you’ll find your sit alone,” she said as she walked towards the counter, “Kevin!”

“I’m on it bug,” he said as he was filling other glasses of beer, before getting one ready for Frank.

“Hey sweety, where’s my shot?” Mickey Milkovich shout at her surrounding by his gang as he showed her his empty glass.

“Don’t call me that,” she said as she passed by, grabbing some empty glasses to bring them back at the counter.

“You are doing great,” Kev said happily when he passed behind her squeezing her shoulder.

“Glad to hear,” she answered filling some more glasses to bring to Milkovich.

“Another!” Frank shouted, and Desna gave him one of the shots she had in hand.

“I wanted beer,” he complained.

“It’s alcohol and Kev is taking ice,” she said for the countless time to bring the glasses she had prepared, “Enjoy it while he gets back.”

“Hey, love, my cousin wanted to know if your free later,” Mickey asked eyeing the boy next to him, sharing a laugh.

“I don’t think so,” she stated walking back hearing them laugh again.

“Can I offer you something?” She was ready to snap back when she noticed that who had made the question was Lip. As she saw him, Desna’s body relaxed and from her lips escaped a laugh.

“I can’t drink, sir,” she said smiling at him, “But for you I’d make an exception.”

“Oh yeah?” Lip smirked, but then Tommy called for her once again.

“Three more beers?” She asked as the man pointed at him and his companions, “Right on it!” She said before turning to Lip.

“Are you looking for Frank?” She asked pointing behind her back.

“Why? Is he here?” He answered with a frown, that made her chuckle.

“Desna!” Tommy called again, and she groaned before making her way to the counter, to fill new glasses. She noticed that Lip had gotten closer to the counter as Kev walked out from the back.

“Where were you?” Desna asked, “Couldn’t you find the way back?”

“I was about to give you five minutes of break,” he said and her eyes grew bigger.

“You took the time that it was needed,” she said sweetly.

“That’s what I thought,” he said as Desna smiled, before walking to Lip.

“Are you here for drink?” She asked him.

“Umm… no,” at his answer she took his hand bringing pulling him along side her as she exited from the back of the bar. Finally breathing as the cool air hit her face.

“Busy night, eh?” Lip said giving her a sigarette that she gladly took, quickly lighting it up.

“Everyday is a good day to drink,” she said taking a drag before passing it to him, who brought the sigarette in his mouth, “But it seems that they decide when be a pain in the ass all together.”

Lip laughed as he passed the thing to her once again.

“Why are you here?” She asked taking a drag.

Lip shrugged his shoulders, “Passing by,” he said and Desna nodded her head, blowing out the smoke.

“Are you free this Thursday, in the afternoon?” He asked her.

“There’s the game,” that Thursday Kevin was organizing the bar so to make it possible to see the game with the costumers, “Kev still didn’t ask me to help though, why?” She tilted her head to a side, observing him putting his hands in the front pockets of his jeans.

“Fiona is organizing this thing where we are going to instal the new TV,” he explained, “Steve is coming, and she wants to ask V too.”

She frowned in curiosity “Then why did you want to ask me-”

“Told you, I was passing by,” he shrugged his shoulders. And she found herself nodding her head.

“If Kev doesn't ask for my help, I can make it,” she said throwing the sigarette on the ground and stepping on it with her foot.

“Yeah?” Desna nodded with a smile.

“Okay,” he said, giving a glance at the door before walking towards her. In a moment his lips were on hers and his arms around her waist. She was surprised by the action, but she didn’t complain as she brought her arms around his neck, bringing him close. He slowly pushed towards the wall, until her back hit the wall.

“Not here,” she muttered against his lips, then she noticed his gaze being deep in thought, and she brought her hand on his cheek.

“What is it?” She asked caressing his skin.

“I should…” he said, “I should really bring Karen too.”

“What?” She asked pushing him back, slightly.

“Yeah, no I mean, you’re both my friends, so,” he stuttered, “And-”

“You’re fucking both of us,” she challenged him, as she moved away from him.

“We said no jealousy,” he said, “You two are different,” but that made her laugh bitterly.

“No, I don’t think so,” she said as he shrugged his shoulders.

“What do you mean?” He asked.

Desna shook her head, putting her hands in the back pockets of her jeans, “Listen, do whatever you want, I don’t fucking care.”

“Are you angry now?” He asked making her stop as she was about to get back in.

“I don’t know..” she said sarcastically, “What if next time I bring the other guy that I’m fucking?”

“You’re not fucking anyone else,” he protested.

“Yeah,” Desna said, “Maybe I should.”

“Oh, come on!” Lip said stopping her by the arm, but she snapped it away.

“Why bring it up now?” She asked challenging him, who just scoffed.

“I thought about it, I said it,” he said simply.

“Bullshit!” She said and he laughed annoyed, pacing as he passed his hand on his mouth, “Why do you always do this?” Desna asked.

“Doing what?” He argued.

“Last time you brought me with you to see your so called friend suck your brother, because, what was it?” She said mockingly, “I don’t have to fear Karen. So, what? It is her turn now?”

“Karen is my fucking best friend, Desna!” He argued with low voice.

“Then what does this makes me?” She yelled at him. And she noticed his jaw clench. They observed each other in silence, they could even hear the voices from the inside of the bar as they kept staring.

“I don’t want things to change between us,” Desna laughed at that.

“You can’t even answer a question,” she said turning her back at him ready to get back in, but then he grabbed by the arm pulling her so that she would face him.

“This,” he answered and she scoffed, “We are this.”

“Not my question,” she answered shaking her head, “Let me fucking go.”

“Why do you have to complicate everything?” He asked angrily, his hand still gripping her arm.

“Why can’t you answer a fucking question?” His jaw clenched again looking at her, “What is this uh? You’ve got a label for her but not for me, Lip?” she said pushing his shoulder with her free hand, his jaw even more clenched. She shoved him again, “She is your best friend, then what am I?!”

His other hand moved blocking her other wrist yanking her closer, “A good fuck,” he hissed. Desna eyes widened, before she pushed him, freeing herself, then her hand moved to slap him across the face.

“Fuck you,” She said coldly. His eyes widened, just before the door of the bar got opened by Kev.

“Bug, I need you help over there,” he said before looking between the two of them, “Are you guys okay?”

“Yeah,” she answered keep looking at Lip, “He was going home,” the boy observed her as he wanted to say something, but Desna turned her back at him, pushing past Kevin to go back to work.

Fucking Lip Gallagher.

A good fuck! She was a fucking good fuck! That’s all he wanted from her? Karen Jackson was his best friend, she was just a good fuck? Then he wouldn’t have mind her doing the same. She enter the hall, grabbing a shot of techila and swallow it whole, before she made her way towards Milkovich table.

“Look who’s here!” Mikey said, but she turned to the boy to his left.

“You wanted to know if I was free after, right?” She asked at the boy, who nodded his head, “Fine, my shift ends at 11.00, hope you’ve got somewhere we can fuck,” she didn’t even gave him time to answer, as she get back swallowing another shot of tequila.

******

Tag List: @th3h0nkz @aunicornmademedoit

If you liked it, please leave a ♥️ and reblog!

#shameless imagine #shameless fanfiction #shameless smut #shameless #lip gallagher smut #lip gallagher x oc #lip gallagher x reader #lip gallagher imagine #lip gallagher fanfiction #lip gallagher #fiona gallagher #ian gallagher #carl gallagher #debbie gallagher #liam gallagher #frank gallagher #mickey milkovich #smut

53 notes · View notes

btrflypov · 9 months

Text

[♡] “i don’t kiss and tell”

“he’s just so annoying you know? it’s like he wants me one day and the other he acts like i don’t exist” you were rambling for what it seemed hours. repeating the same thing over and over again. “yeah he’s an ass” sandy replied sarcastically, at this point tired of your nonsense. “you know it would be so much better if you just told me who on the team you’re talking about”. truth is nobody knew about you and shohei. not because you didn’t want to but it was decided by him it was best to keep it secret for awhile.

“my guess is mickey!” patrick kept on spitting out names, never once mentioning the one on your mind. it was obvious no one ever expected you, mike trout’s little sister, to be messing around with the best player on the team. mike and shohei shared a very special teammate bond. your so-called “relationship” becoming public would only mean bad talk for them both. “sandy just focus on your pitching, let me do the talking in peace”. it was sunday afternoon, an off day for the halos, and since sandoval was starting tomorrow he asked if you could come and keep him company while he practiced throwing on the bullpen, something he regretted as soon as you opened your mouth to talk about boy drama.

after running your mouth for many more minutes you decided to leave the bullpen, letting sandy have some time to himself, walking through the field heading towards the dugout you decided to check your phone, in hopes that shohei remembered the plans you both made for the night. you were hoping to see a sign from him but you sighed as his name was nowhere to be seen in your recent messages, leaving you with little to no hope for the night. “like i said, he acts like i don’t exist” you whispered to yourself as you walked through the dugout and into the clubhouse.

you heard him before you could even see him. of course shohei was on the stadium on an off day, he just had to be. as you walked inside the locker room, ippei saw you first, “look who it is” he stated and shohei immediately locked his gaze with yours not saying a word. “hey guys what a coincidence, never in a million years would i’ve thought to find you here” the satire in your voice being obvious. “what are you doing here?” he finally got a word out. “i’m with sandy, he’s practicing in the bullpen” you replied coldly not letting his attitude get to you. ippei sensed the tension and decided to get a head start towards the pen, wanting to escape the drama.

“stop acting like that” shohei spoke again. you didn't understand him sometimes. his attitude and your non-helping doubts were getting in your head more than you wished they would lately. “like what? acting like what?” you raised your voice with no change in your tone. you were tired and he knew. “bebe please” his tone dropped becoming softer. you couldn’t resist him, it was impossible, even if you tried. his touch, his smell, his voice, everything was engraved in you. you loved him.

before you could get a word out he started to move closer to you, leaving no space between your bodies. his lips crashed into yours. you melted under his touch and he knew that. as your hands reached for the back of his neck he gripped your hips pulling you impossibly closer. "baby" he whimpered as you softly tugged his messy hair. keeping your lips locked you hummed in response. before your hands reached for his loosed belt and just as things were about to get heated sandy ran into the locker room “hey sho, ippei told me you were here-”. you and shohei instantly pulled away from one another at the sound of his voice, not wanting to give sandoval a show.

patrick found you both blushed and breathless.

“oh yeah hey sandy, see you out there” shohei quickly replied as he walked out of the locker room clearly wanting to avoid any awkward conversation between the three. sandy was left with the biggest smirk on his face watching you closely not even paying attention to shohei or what he said.

“ohtani, huh, it was him all along” sandoval stated between laughs.

“shut up patrick i have no idea what you’re talking about”

“don’t try to fool me, look at you, it looks like you just ran a marathon” his laughs making it harder for him to even sit up straight.

“sandy, i don’t kiss and tell” you said smiling and walking towards the exit door, leaving the man with the most mischievous smile on his face. after today, you knew you and shohei would never hear the end of it. you couldn't care less.

#shohei ohtani #shohei ohtani x reader #mlb imagines

138 notes · View notes

books-are-escapes · 9 months

Text

real love baby - j. s.

word count: 1.1k

it's a sweet summer night. you and the dags have some time off, so natasha and you suggested a cute, little backyard barbecue. there's a playlist filling the space on the house speakers. bradley's flipping burgers because he's a natural at making them juuust the right amount of done and juicy too.

you're in the kitchen with natasha and bob, helping fix sides. you settled to work on the deviled eggs because you, too, are a natural. natasha's on potato salad and bob's cutting some fruit. mickey's just happy for some genuine fun in his life, but cannot be trusted near anything that's supposed to be edible, so he sits on a bar stool, elbows on the granite counter top, bobbing his head to the music while his girlfriend sits with him, just as content.

javy, reuben and jake are in the backyard, tossing a football around. javy's girlfriend scrolls through her phone, checking her boyfriend's butt out every so often.

you have a small window right above the sink, giving you a sweet view of jake. his sunglasses are still resting on his nose even though the sun's nearly gone, his hair is still as gelled as ever and his smile is a big contrast to his tan skin. everyone knows, except for him.

natasha places her hand on your wrist, stopping you from filling the halves with the mustard and mayo mixture. "something's gotta happen here soon, this is getting sad to watch." bob chuckled, your mouth fell open. "that made me sad!" you pouted. "only speaking facts honey.” she shrugged. “i just don’t know what to do. i want him to ask me out, but i am so frustrated that he's not picking up on a single thing i'm doing."

bob kept cutting the strawberries, "men are stupid. so are boys. but men are too. sometimes we just need a large sign that says, 'we like you dumbass.’” he smirked as you laughed.

"yeah, that might have to be it."

real love baby by father john misty comes on. the guitar cues you in, you had just finished filling the eggs. hearing this song makes you want to just float around, there's some type of magic in this tune. you give nat a knowing look and start moving.

our hearts are free, so tell me what's wrong with the feeling

you carry the egg tray outside to the table, the rhythm settling into your hips. bradley's singing into the spatula. javy and reuben have their hands in the air and their eyes are closed as they sway. natasha had pulled bob out onto the deck and made him dance with her a little. none of us were sure what was going on there, maybe nothing? maybe something?

jake locked eyes with you, smiled real big, rolled his eyes and shook his head.

mickey and his girlfriend had begun to slowly dance together as well as javy and his lady. reuben came up the steps and wrapped one arm around bradley's shoulders and the two of them sang

i want real love baby. ooh, don't leave me waiting.

you had taken your phone out to record this moment as it was something that you wanted to keep forever. you had only recorded a few seconds, being sure you spent a couple extra seconds on reuben and bradley. you watched the video and didn't notice.

jake had made his way up the steps, after realizing you didn't have a partner either. "may i?" your mouth fell open, your eyes were wide as they looked from his outstretched hand to his eyes.

"oh! um... sure!" you set your phone down and wiped your hand on your jean shorts before taking his hand. he gingerly pulled you to him. this means nothing. you thought to yourself. his large hand was pressed flat on the small of your back, keeping your body close to his while his other hand still held onto yours. nothing at all.

your hand held his shoulder as the two of you stepped back and forth to the beat. you were so flustered in this moment, you couldn't bring yourself to keep your head up. jake, being hisself says, "why don't you want to look up at me?" you let a breath pass through your nose to represent a laugh. you figured you'd take another shot. "because i might fall in love if i do." your head was still pointed down, looking at your painted toes.

there was a long pause before he says, "look at me, please." his voice almost begged, and you obliged. big mistake. you were more right than you thought you would be. the way his eyes pressed into you and the way they bore into your own. "there we go." a soft smile graced his lips.

"oh jake," you patted his shoulder a couple of times. "if only." his brows furrowed. "what do you mean?" you breathed deeply, in and out. "i mean, i like you. a lot. and i want, i've been waiting, for you to ask me on a date. and you just haven't. you've been so oblivious and i'm frustrated with you but then you flash your smile and your green eyes look me over and it all goes away and then i'm frustrated again."

jake was stunned, utterly shook. he'd never had someone be so upfront with him. "wow." was the only thing he could say.

your head dropped, "worth a last shot, i guess." you mumbled. "hey." he said, your face lifted to focus on him. his eyes locked with yours before drifting around your face. "can i take you out on a date? please?" your heart went from the lowest drop to the highest mountain. "i would really love that jake."

his hand slid the rest of the way around your body, gripping your waist, it sent light tingles through your skin. you rested your head on his shoulder, taking in this moment with him. his cologne clung to his neck. he pressed the lightest kiss to your cheek before resting his head on top of yours.

i'm a flower, you're my bee. it's much older than you and me. i'm in love, i'm alive.

unbeknownst to you, natasha had taken your phone off the table and recorded you and jake as well. after finding out, you'd watch that video just about three times a day, remembering his hand on your waist, the smell of his cologne, when he pressed a gentle kiss on your cheek, how his jaw felt against your head, how real that moment felt.

he had taken you on a few dates, the first one was just some ice cream, then the next one was a drive-in and your most recent one had been a picnic on the beach. your relationship was growing. every day with him made you feel giddy, like a child, inside. yeah, jake was a natural flirt. women would eyeball him all the time at the hard deck, but the best thing, was he only had eyes for you.

#top gun maverick #glen powell #top gun: maverick #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #hangman #jake hangman fic #hangman x reader #hangman seresin x reader #hangman x you #spotify

85 notes · View notes

labellefleur-sauvage · 1 year

Text

Disneyland DILF

Summary: While on a family vacation to Disneyland, Elide discovers her husband Lorcan has been featured on the viral Instagram page ‘DILFS of Disneyland.’

When he claims not to know what a DILF is, Elide decides the best way she can explain it to him is to demonstrate what the F stands for.

For the wonderful and amazing and talented @headcanonheadcase! I've been teasing this Lorcan DILF fic for a while, so thanks for being patient with me! Thank you for being so kind and supportive, and I hope you enjoy!

Rating: Explicit. See AO3 link for tags.

Word Count: 4.9K

Read on A03

“Come on Jack, look over here! Look at Mommy! Come on baby, just give me one good photo!”

Whoever coined the idiom “herding cats” to describe an impossible task should have instead used something like, “getting your toddler to look at a camera for more than one second for a halfway decent picture.” The latter, Elide decided, conveyed more of the frustrating nuance that people were bound to face, even if it was a bit too lengthy of a phrase. Who even had enough cats to herd anyways?

“Lorcan, can you stop distracting him for one minute, please? I really wanna get a picture of Jack with Pluto. And can you fix his hair?”

Her husband stopped whispering whatever he was saying to their son. He looked up at Elide with a frown.

“I’m not distracting him - I’m just telling him how better dressed he is than every other kid here.”

“Well, maybe don’t do that,” she cringed, as a middle aged woman wearing a pair of Mickey Mouse ears with a gaggle of similarly dressed children behind her shot Lorcan and Elide a dirty look.

“And I think his hair looks good like this,” Lorcan went on, slightly tussling his son’s dark hair. “It looks effortlessly messy and windswept. Classic.” Jack agreed, as he grinned and clapped his pudgy little hands at his father’s compliments.

“He’s two,” Elide deadpanned. “He’s not going to be on the cover of Baby Vogue.”

Lorcan hummed. “Is that a thing? It should be, and Jack should be on the cover -“

She sighed; she knew when she lost her battles with her husband, rare that it happened. “One, two, three -“

Quick as a snake, Lorcan turned himself and Jack towards Elide’s phone and gave their biggest grins for the picture: Lorcan’s a small uptick of the corners of his mouth, his long, dark hair swaying in the warm breeze, while Jack grinned toothily at the camera.

“Oh, that actually turned out pretty good,” Elide said, slowly walking over to show the picture to Lorcan. “And Plutos is in the background, so I guess that technically counts.”

“Pluto’s the dog, right?” Lorcan asked, settling Jack back in his stroller.

Elide looked at her husband exasperatedly. “Yes, Pluto’s the dog. I still don’t understand how you know so little about Disney. It’s like you grew up under a rock.”

Lorcan shrugged as they set off at a slow pace down Disneyland’s broad Main Street and into the heart of the park. “Growing up in an orphanage and joining the military at 18 doesn’t exactly lend itself to having a pop culture filled childhood.”

“Disney transcends pop culture,” Elide muttered distractedly, pulling up the Disneyland app on her smartphone. “I know I should have quizzed you on everything Disney, or at least made you memorize the map of this place.”

“Where are we off to next?” he asked, looking over her shoulder at the map pulled up on her phone.

“Where aren’t we going? Big day planned. Jack loves Tigger so I want to head over to the Critter Country area so he can meet him and get some pictures together. I think we’d all like the Jungle Cruise - can you double check I packed the noise canceling headphones? - watch the parade, hang around in Toontown, depending on how Jack is doing, then end the day by visiting Sleepy Beauty’s castle. That’s been on my to do list since I was a little girl.”

Lorcan arched an eyebrow. “Is this Disneyland vacation for him or you?”

Elide pursed her lips. “It’s for all of us, you giant twerp. But what do you want to do? I’ll hang back with him if you want to go on rides or visit the Star Wars area.”

“I don’t need to do anything other than be with you two. Just keep me fed and I’ll go wherever you tell me.”

Elide grinned. “Smart man. How about we head over to Adventureland for the Jungle Cruise? I think he’d like the animals.”

“Lead on,” Lorcan said, wheeling Jack’s stroller around and following Elide further into the park.

The Jungle Cruise was a hit. Lorcan strapped Jack into his front-facing toddler carrier and held him the entire time, making sure his headphones were on and pointing out the different animals they saw, to Jack’s delight. Elide should have spent the ride taking in the sights around her - this Disneyland trip was truthfully perhaps more for her than for their son - but she couldn’t help but let her gaze linger on Lorcan.

Devilishly handsome didn’t seem like it did her husband justice. Nearly seven feet tall, with shiny shoulder length dark hair, a perfectly symmetrical face, and rippling muscles that didn’t seem real, Elide knew Lorcan was a catch.

But what she adored even more about him was his personality: his quiet, understated humor, how loyal he was, his bravery, and his unending support for everything Elide put her mind to. He carried her weight - sometimes literally - when her disability became too much for her and she struggled to walk even with her ankle brace on.

Best of all, he was an excellent father. Before Jack had been born, he’d confessed to Elide that he was scared that he didn’t know how to be a good dad and he’d do something to traumatically mess up Jack’s life. She didn’t believe that for a second; she had full faith in him, and told him that repeatedly. The first time Lorcan held Jack after he was born was the closest Elide had ever seen him to crying.

And now here he was, willingly walking around the capitalistic hell that was Disneyland, all so his wife and son could have a picture perfect day. What a lucky woman she was.

“I think he really enjoyed that,” Lorcan commented after they collected their stroller from the front of the ride. He decided to keep wearing Jack in his front-facing carrier - “He’ll be able to see things better that way,” he reasoned - and Elide wasn’t going to complain, especially since seeing Lorcan carry their kid around sent odd little flutters throughout her body.

“He did,” Elide cooed, re-fastening Jack’s little velcro shoes so he wouldn’t kick them off. “I got a good picture of him looking at elephants.”

“Good thing he didn’t seem to realize what the lions were doing to that zebra.”

Elide shuddered. “Yeah, maybe some parts of this ride aren’t the best for babies and toddlers.”

“Where to next?” Lorcan asked. “Try to find Tigger and then lunch?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Elide said, kissing Jack’s cheek and squeezing Lorcan’s hand. “Want me to take the stroller?”

“You navigate, I’ll steer.”

She quickly learned Disneyland was much larger than the little map on her phone made it look. By the time they found Tigger and took dozens of pictures of an excited Jack with his favorite character, and let him burn some energy on a Winnie the Pooh playground, Elide’s ankle throbbed with every footstep she took. She hobbled to a sitting bench and watched Jack go down a slide before running back up to go down again and again.

“How are you doing?” Lorcan questioned, sitting down next to her on the bench.

“I may have underestimated how much walking we were going to do today,” she admitted, leaning down to rub her ankle.

“Want your brace?”

She grimaced. “Maybe not right now. I’ll try to wait until after lunch. Speaking of, I think Jack’s getting hungry and tired - want to see if we can find somewhere to sit out of the sun?”

They found a shaded and relatively quiet restaurant in the New Orleans area, and Elide sat at the table and put on her ankle brace, waiting for their food, as Lorcan walked around with Jack in the picturesque square outside the restaurant. She watched them contentedly as Jack toddled over a short railing into a flower bed and stuck his entire head into a bunch of flowers. Rather than pull him out, Lorcan crouched down next to him and started pointing out different flowers to Jack.

Sighing happily, she took a sip of her mocktail and closed her eyes, leaning back in her chair. Besides her ankle, the day was going perfectly.

“Mama! Mama!”

She opened her eyes. Lorcan was walking towards her with Jack on his hip, a bunch of bright flowers, dirty roots and all, dangling from his fat fist.

“He was very interested in the flowers, and I told him how much you like flowers too,” Lorcan said, putting Jack in a high chair as he thrust the flowers at Elide.

“Oh Jack, these are perfect,” Elide gasped, fighting the tears that had welled in her eyes and taking the bright arrangement from her son. She leaned down to kiss Jack on a chubby cheek. “Thank you so much baby.”

“Seems I’m gonna have to do better the next time I give you flowers,” Lorcan grumbled. “Not sure how I’m gonna compete with a fresh Disney bouquet.”

“I’m surprised no one came and shooed you away,” Elide noted, wrapping the bottom of the flowers in a napkin and tucking them in the stroller.

“Oh, someone did,” Lorcan confirmed nonchalantly. “Especially when Jack tossed a bunch of tulips on the ground. They didn’t seem to like us damaging park property, or something.”

“Lorcan!” Elide admonished. “You didn’t make someone miserable over some flowers, did you?”

No, I just stood up and I guess they thought better about trying to yell at me. Besides, it’d be well worth making anyone miserable if it made you happy.”

“Aw. That is so sweet and threatening.”

He winked and gave her a small smile. “Anything for you.”

They took their time with lunch and by the time they finished, Jack had fallen asleep in his stroller. Deciding to let him sleep, they staked out a shaded bit of lawn and sat down to watch the parade from a distance. Full of energy when he woke up, they leisurely made their way over to Toontown and got in line for the steam train ride.

“I can take him for a bit,” Elide suggested, picking a bench in the back of the train so Lorcan wouldn’t block anyone out. “You’ve been handling him a lot today.”

“I got him,” Lorcan said, sitting Jack on his lap. “You just sit and relax.”

Her husband had apparently designated himself as being on ‘Jack Duty’ all day, as he refused to let Elide even push his stroller or hold him, besides whenever she thrust her phone at Lorcan and asked him to take pictures.

“Is that safe, Lorcan?” Elide asked nervously after they had gotten off the train. Her husband had just thrown Jack onto his shoulders, giving him the best view in the entire park.

“Course,” Lorcan grunted, holding onto their son’s legs, his arms flexing as they walked towards Goofy’s Playhouse. “Just want to make sure he can see everything. He loves people watching, just like his mom.”

They set Jack down and he immediately ran into the bright, cartoon style house.

“He’s gonna sleep so well tonight,” Elide sighed happily.

“And we won’t?” Lorcan countered, an eyebrow raised.

“Good point. I’m glad tomorrow is a lazy day at the beach.”

By the time they dragged Jack away nearly an hour later, even he had come to the conclusion that he was ready to leave. Burying his face in Lorcan’s shoulder, he didn’t seem to mind stopping at Sleeping Beauty’s castle. Elide didn’t have the energy to go up and explore any of the winding passages and staircases, but Lorcan still took her picture everywhere she could go in the castle, juggling her phone in one hand and their near-sleeping son in the other.

“You could have put him in the stroller,” Elide said as they made their way back to their car, double and triple checking that they hadn’t lost anything in the park.

“That’s alright. Didn’t want to risk waking him up.”

Dinner was some fast food they picked up on the way back to their Airbnb. Jack picked at his food and didn’t fight them as they gave him a quick bath and Lorcan got him settled for bed in the small second bedroom of the condo. Elide showered and stepped into the master bedroom to find Lorcan laying on the bed reading a book.

“Did he go down pretty easy?” she asked, drying her hair.

“Oh yeah. Only made it a few more pages into The Hobbit before he passed out.”

“God, same kid,” Elide groaned, throwing on her pajamas and crawling into bed next to Lorcan, grabbing her phone and looking through the several hundred photos she and Lorcan had managed to snap that day.

Opening Instagram, she scrolled through her friend’s recent posts and videos - Aelin and Rowan celebrating their wedding anniversary, Manon’s rescue bulldog Abraxos officially completing training to become a therapy dog, and some professional pictures of Yrene, Chaol and their daughter - before she noticed a ‘Suggested for You’ account:

dilfs_of_disneyland

Elide snorted and scrolled away. How stupid and niche. It was probably filled with a few blurry creepshots of men at Disneyland, or a PR stunt of some kind for a movie or TV show or podcast. No, thank you. Elide had standards. She scrolled away.

On the other hand, she was on vacation; her standards could take a break. She scrolled back up and clicked on the account and was brought to a professional looking Instagram page:

DILFS of Disneyland: Welcome to the Happiest place on Instagram!

Apparently the account wasn’t niche at all - it had over 400,000 followers, and more than 1,200 posts, all featuring pictures of handsome men with babies and toddlers at Disneyland. Elide was stunned, scrolling through post after post after post of men with their kids at Disneyland, doing frankly normal things - pushing strollers, posing for pictures, eating ice cream and churros with their kids - but there was something… else, something more she couldn’t quite put her finger on that made these men extra appealing.

Not that she would ever admit this to Lorcan. Snorting, she scrolled back to the top of the page when she noticed a new post from today with an all too familiar face:

“WOW 😍😍 A DILF to beat all DILFS! Taking Tall, Dark and Handsome to a new DILF-y level!! #hotdads #dilfsofdisneyland #dilfalert #strollermeat”

There was her husband, in all his DILF-y glory from throughout the day: Lorcan walking with Jack strapped to his chest, Lorcan pushing Jack in his stroller, and even one from late in the day when Jack sat on Lorcan’s shoulders. Elide had to give it to the photographer on that one - his arms and chest looked absolutely ripped in the photo.

And the internet agreed. The post had only been up for a few hours and already amassed several hundred likes and over one hundred comments, all from women - and some men - going feral for Lorcan.

“Call the fire department, cuz I’m about to climb that DILF like a tree and get stuck”

“Hello Daddy😏😘”

“God bless this Disney DILF🙏🏻🙏🏻”

Elide couldn’t help but chuckle. She maybe should be concerned that someone had been stalking her husband at Disneyland but as she looked through the many comments bemoaning how hot and unavailable Lorcan was, she didn’t feel any anger for the people drooling over her husband. Her chuckle morphed into a full laugh, until Elide was snorting in laughter.

“What are you laughing at?”

Lorcan was staring at her, his brow furrowed.

“Your greatest fear has come true,” Elide gasped out.

Lorcan sat up. “Rowan got some stupid award he can rub in my face?”

“No, you’re internet famous. Kind of.”

“What?” he snapped, rolling on his side to try to look at her phone. “What happened?”

“It’s nothing bad,” she said, working to contain her laughter. “The internet says you’re a DILF.”

Lorcan stared at her blankly. “A what?”

“A DILF. You know,” she repeated, waving her hand like that would explain the acronym.

"What’s a DILF?”

Elide sat up on her elbows. “Wait, really? You don’t know what a DILF is?” She narrowed her eyes and cocked her head at Lorcan, studying him for any of his lying tells.

“Really. What’s it mean?”

“You’re thirty-four!” Elide exclaimed. “How do you not know what a DILF is?”

“Well, I’m not glued to my phone twenty-four seven -”

“Because your old flip phone doesn't have internet and you only have three people’s phone numbers.”

“Just tell me what it means,” Lorcan grumbled, pouting.

Elide snickered. “It means ‘dad I’d like to fuck.’ There’s an Instagram page devoted to dads in Disneyland, and you’re proving very popular.” She handed her phone to Lorcan and watched him read through the myriad of comments left on his pictures.

“Huh. That’s… interesting.”

Elide shrugged. “Maybe a little odd, but they don’t mean any harm by it. Just people admiring how hot and good of a dad you are.”

“And being a dad… makes me more attractive to women?”

“Oh definitely. There have been times when you’ve been so good with Jack I jumped you when we put him down for a nap. And seeing you today, holding Jack, playing with him…” she trailed off, biting her lip and sweeping her eyes down his body.

“Really? That gets you going?”

“Maybe,” she purred, crawling over to him and swinging her leg over him so she sat on his lap, “I could put on a demonstration of the ‘F’ in DILF, if you still need convincing.”

He grinned, trailing his big hands up her slim thighs. “I’ve always been more of a hands-on learner. That might help it… sink in.”

“Maybe if you’re lucky, that won’t be the only thing you’ll be sinking into,” she murmured, leaning down to capture Lorcan’s lips against hers.

Lorcan’s warm hands grasped the sides of her head to keep her still as their tongues met. Elide sighed with pleasure. She could spend all night just kissing her husband, feeling his large body flex and shift underneath her, his hands trailing soft caresses down her body. His fingers dove beneath her sleep shorts. She was already wet. She gasped as his fingers trailed up and down her slit before plunging a thick finger inside her.

“Guess you weren’t kidding about getting turned on by me being a DILF,” Lorcan mumbled against her, nipping her bottom lip.

Groaning, she rolled off him and threw herself off the bed, tugging her clothes off. “Well, hop to it,” she breathed, laughing softly as Lorcan fumbled to get his pants and shirt off.

She took a moment to stare at his body: a strong chest covered with a smattering of dark hair that formed a dark line below his belly button, thick thighs that could crush a person to death if he needed to. And his cock. Thick, long, and perfectly proportional to his big body and which looked obscene next to Elide’s petite form.

Lorcan lay on the bed, absentmindedly stroking his cock as he looked Elide up and down. “Dad you’d like to fuck, hm?” He murmured. “How about I get you warmed up for a fucking?”

Elide shivered. “What do you have in mind?”

“I like the idea of… sinking into you.” He grinned lazily, and her belly tightened with anticipation. “Get on.”

He grabbed a small bottle of lube and coated his thick length liberally. She climbed on top of Lorcan and gasped as he spun her around and settled her over his cock, her knees bracketing his hips as she faced away from his face, towards his long legs and feet. She turned around to look at him.

“Just wanna feel you around me,” he remarked. Grabbing his cock, he pulled her down, letting her take him within her at her own pace.

Elide moaned. Even after all this time, she still needed to take him slowly, let him stretch out her inner walls. The lube helped immensely. She swirled her hips, taking an inch before withdrawing and taking another, then another, then another, Lorcan’s deep groans egging her on. Finally she sunk down fully against his body. She started to raise herself on her knees to start that intimate rhythm they both knew so well when Lorcan’s hands gripped her hips.

“Hold on,” he said, not letting her move. “Now that you’re here, I wanna enjoy this.”

“Were you not having fun before?” Elide gasped, feeling him twitch inside her.

“Oh, I was and still am,” he said, caressing her hips. “Just come back down and lean forward a bit - yeah, just like that.”

Elide blushed as she leaned forward over Lorcan’s body, grabbing his knees for leverage. She felt exposed and open as Lorcan hummed appreciatively, rubbing his hand over one of her ass cheeks.

“You take me so well,” he murmured. “I think this is a nice interlude before I fuck you. Just wanna feel you warming my cock.”

She craned her neck and gave him an annoyed look. This is not at all what she thought he meant by ‘warming her up.’ “And what about me?”

Lorcan raised an eyebrow. “I was under the impression that we ended up here because you get so turned on just by me being a good dad. Don’t I have a say in how I want to be fucked?”

“Well, I guess, but -“

“Then just sit there nice and pretty on my cock,” he soothed. “Don’t move though, just stay still.”

“Lorcan,” Elide squirmed against him. “I need -“

“Don’t worry, I’ll fuck you full in a bit,” he said distractedly, and Elide knew he felt her cunt clench around his cock ar his words. “I just wanna finish this chapter -“

She tsked. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he said, reaching for his book with one hand and rubbing her back with the other. “Just a few minutes.”

Elide sighed and turned her head back towards Lorcan’s legs, forcing herself to relax. She considered herself fairly adventurous in bed, and her and Lorcan had a very open and healthy sex life, but this was one thing they hadn’t tried yet. Elide didn’t see the appeal in cockwarming, but actually experiencing it, well…

Lorcan subtly shifted his hips and she felt his cock somewhere in her stomach. Cursing, she gripped his knees and made herself stay still. This wasn’t how she thought this would go. When she initially climbed on his lap she thought she’d suck him for a bit then ride him, or maybe bend herself over the bed so he could pound into her from behind.

But here she was, hypersensitive and aware of every little movement and touch from Lorcan, only a few breaths away from breaking and begging him to do something.

Which is probably why he did this. Jerk.

“I can hear you thinking.” She refused to turn around to look at him but she could hear the smirk in his voice.

“Just thinking how I actually wanted to fuck my husband, not stare at a wall with his cock stuffed in me,” she sniffed.

Lorcan laughed. “Ok, Ok, I get it. You’re lucky I’m done with my chapter.”

She whined as he lifted her off his length. She felt horribly cold and empty until he flipped her around on her back and kneeled in between her legs.

“That wasn’t even five minutes, just so you know,” Lorcan said, stroking his slick cock and glancing down to her red pussy.

“Bullshit,” she gasped as her husband gripped her thighs and hauled her towards him so her legs were resting over his hips. “Felt like an hour.”

He hummed. “I should fuck you for an hour, so you have a frame of reference next time we do this.” He laid a wide spread hand on her stomach and moved his hand up her torso.

“What a perfect little wife you are,” he whispered. Elide gulped; his hand covered nearly her entire chest, and his fingers graced the hollow of her throat.

“Please,” she gasped, licking her lips and shifting her hips to graze his cock.

“So tiny, but like you were made for me.” He looked down to where they were almost joined. His cock jutted obscenely out over her stomach.

“Is this what you imagined?” He asked, dragging the head of his cock over her clit before settling at her entrance. “When you told me that I’m a DILF, and how excited that makes you?”

Elide couldn’t answer, her eyes darting between Lorcan’s dark gaze and his thick cock so close to where she wanted him.

He squeezed her thighs. “Well?”

“Yes,” she said in a broken whisper. “Yes, I imagined you fucking me so hard -“

Lorcan pushed into her in one hard stroke and Elide lost her train of thought. Lost every thought she’d ever had, honestly, as Lorcan gripped her waist and set a hard pace.

Elide grabbed Lorcan’s forearms as he pounded into her, needing to feel even more of his warm body and to keep herself from moving around the bed with the power of his thrusts. She threw her head back at a particularly rough thrust.

“Fuck Lorcan,” she groaned, aware that she couldn’t be as loud as she wanted with Jack in the room next door.

“God, you’re always so tight,” he grunted out, wrapping his arms around her thighs and hauling her lower half off the bed and further into his lap, letting him thrust even deeper inside her. “Feel so good. Is this hard enough for you?”

“Yes!” Her orgasm inched closer and closer. She reached down and started circling her clit rapidly. If he kept fucking her just like this, and she kept touching herself…

“I wonder how turned on you’d get if we had another,” he said, staring down at her intently. “You wouldn’t be able to keep your hands off me, would you?”

Lorcan didn’t get an answer as Elide came, squeezing her eyes shut and biting her lip to keep herself quiet. Warmth spread throughout her body as her orgasm traveled along her nerves, lighting her up from the inside. She was vaguely aware of a muffled groan above her and more warmth between her legs as Lorcan came.

He dropped her limp legs and bracketed his arms next to Elide’s head, careful not to crush her as he gave her a gentle kiss before rolling beside her. They lay in blissful silence for a few moments, each focusing on slowing their erratic breathing, when Lorcan let out a huff of air, then another, until he started chuckling.

“DILFs of Disneyland. How many likes did the post have?”

“Hm?” Elide mumbled, halfway to falling asleep.

“Were there a lot of comments on my post? I only saw about a dozen.”

“A lot of… what?”

“Any chance you can check your phone?”

She propped herself on one elbow to stare at Lorcan, brows furrowed. “What? You don’t know anything about Instagram or how it works.”

Lorcan rolled his eyes. “Of course I know how Instagram works. I browse it every now and then.”

“How? Your phone doesn’t have any apps!”

“The desktop.”

“Your old desktop computer?” Elide asked, flabbergasted. “I didn’t realize that thing still worked. And whose accounts are you looking at?”

“Yours, obviously.”

Oh. “Lorcan,” Elide said, grinning softly. “That’s so sweet -“

“And the DILFs of Disneyland page.”

The grin vanished from her face. “What.”

“Yeah, Rowan showed it to me when I told him we were coming here, and he said he and Aelin and their girl are planning a trip later this year. I bet him I could not only get featured on the DILFs of Disneyland Instagram account, but also get more likes than him if he manages to get featured too.”

Elide stared at her smug husband, slack jawed. “So the entire day you insisted on holding and wheeling Jack around -“

“Was because I wanted to spend time with him and so your ankle wouldn’t get sore and we’d have to leave early,” he said gently, bringing her down to lay on his chest. “But if it also meant there were lots of opportunities for me to look hot as hell while holding Jack, then that was nice too.”

“You self centered ass,” Elide said, lightly smacking his shoulder as Lorcan laughed. Elide couldn’t help but join in, shaking her head all the while.

“Well, what did you two idiots bet on?”

“Bragging rights and the loser has to get a shirt for the winner proclaiming them the official DILF of Disneyland.”

“If you somehow win, that will be a bedroom shirt only,” Elide warned.

“Definitely not. I’m gonna wear it around all the time. Get fucked, Rowan.”

“Then you’ll be the one to explain to Jack what a DILF is.”

“This is great,” Lorcan said, pointedly ignoring Elide. “As soon as we get back, I’m gonna email him my DILF pictures -“

“God, you’re such an old man,” Elide laughed, throwing herself dramatically on the bed next to him. “Living up to the reputation of dads being terrible with technology.”

“I make up for it in other ways, don’t I?” he breathed against her neck, his lips trailing past her collarbone and breasts and stomach and then even lower.

“Oh! Yes, I suppose you do have your strengths,” Elide mused breathlessly as Lorcan settled his head between her thighs.

Unfortunately for Elide, Lorcan received his DILF of Disneyland shirt from Rowan, and he gloated insufferably. Fortunately for her, though, Lorcan made sure to show his wife how he became a DILF, and she couldn’t walk straight for two days.

She had to give it to them: the DILFs of Disneyland account really was the happiest place on Instagram.

#elorcan #elide lochan #elide x lorcan #lorcan salvaterre #throne of glass #tog #my fics #my fic #this is so dumb #but i still had a blast writing it #also please someone have pity on me and teach me how to make better mood board things

148 notes · View notes

spreadyovrwings · 4 months

Text

64 Oslo Square

"Companion' Middle English. From Old French ‘compaignon', literally 'one who breaks bread with another.

Strapped for cash, John gets a job at a bakery as their new delivery boy. Juggling school and Queen and work is exhausting, but it’s more than worth it. It's worth it because of you.

Warnings for this chapter: obscene flirting... characters realising their life has more to it than their job? other characters learning other people aren't quite so scary and can be trusted? those two characters fancying each other like crazy? yeah.

Chapter Nine

Steam billowed from the kettle’s spout. You watched it swell and curl through the air, until it hit the low kitchen ceiling and dispersed. On the mantelpiece, your grandmother’s carriage clock chimed ten.

It was the longest you’d been able to sleep in in years. Though you’d been trying to cast your mind back all morning as you set about making breakfast, you couldn’t recall the last time you’d been able to go to bed without setting an alarm.

Though the days were growing steadily warmer as summer rolled in, mornings were still cold in your little flat. You tucked your chin under the collar of your thick woollen jumper and puffed out a breath to warm your body.

It had not been a good week.

It’s difficult to anticipate how one might react in a situation like yours. You thought if someone had asked you a few months ago what you might say if given life-altering news like the kind Gladys had given you, you probably would’ve said you’d rage and eff and blind until the problem righted itself. You’d go out fighting, at least. But when Gladys set off her grenade, you didn’t say a word. You just stared at her. You stared and stared, and stared some more.

It didn’t take long for you to find your voice, though. Not after Gladys started to describe the whole ordeal. She couldn’t seem to get the words out fast enough, it was like watching someone in confession. Her open mouth was like a gutter, gushing words and apologies and useless explanations until finally, you couldn’t take anymore.

“You selfish cow!”

John came into the room when the shouting started. Mickey was close behind. One of them put a hand on your shoulder, it must have been Mickey because the hand was heavy and solid like a slab of concrete.

“Skip…”

John slipped his fingers between yours, trying to bring you back down to Earth, but you barely felt him.

“How could you do this to us? To Mickey? To me?”

Gladys covered her face with her hands, her chunky rings glinting in the low lights.

“I’m sorry!”

“He’s just had a baby!”

“I know, I know-”

“This is my home!”

“I know, I’m sorry. I’m- I’m so sorry, love. I didn’t think in a million years he would-”

You stopped listening. John was murmuring close to your ear, telling you to stop now. His long fingers were wrapped tight around yours, keeping you grounded but only just.

“Sweetheart, leave her,” he murmured. “You should get some air. Just come with me and breathe for a second. Please.”

But that didn’t sound like a reasonable option either. You didn’t want to go outside. You didn’t want to keep having this conversation either. Standing here, shouting at Gladys, that was the only thing that made sense.

“How could you be so stupid.”

The words barely made it out from between your gritted teeth.

You felt John’s hand leave yours. Mickey too took a step back. They both seemed to realise this wasn’t their fight, this wasn’t something they had a right to be involved in, even though they were grieving too.

Gladys was the brightest, most joyous person you knew. She flitted from person to person like a hummingbird. With her brightly coloured hair and her clattering jewellery, she was as dazzling on the outside as she was on the inside. But right now, she seemed to have shrunk a few inches. Her colour had dulled. Her light had gone out.

“I just thought he was interested in me,” Gladys looked down at the floor, ashamed. “No one’s ever been interested in me. And he seemed so eager to learn about the bakery and I thought- I thought maybe he was just proud of me. For building this place. For doing something so amazing on my own. But I was wrong.”

You could still feel your pulse pounding in your neck and the base of your skull. You couldn’t recall ever feeling so angry and let down in all your life. Time seemed to be rushing by you, and all you wanted was for John to hold your hand again.

Gladys still couldn’t look at you. In a way, you were relieved. You didn’t think you’d be able to meet her gaze either.

It was difficult to order the feelings surging through you. You loved Gladys. You owed her so much. You’d do anything for her and until today, you would have sworn she’d always put you, or at least Oslo Square, above all else. Despite everything, she was a good person. You knew that. She was enticing and gregarious and too trusting and a fool. And she had let you down for the last time.

“I will never forgive you for this,” you said, then turned and walked into the kitchen, through the back door and out into the alley.

But you didn’t get far. You never would.

Sinking down on the bakery’s back step, you folded your knees up to your body and prayed the pressure would take the ache away. It didn’t. You bit your lip, trying to hold back the sob that lay in wait in the back of your throat.

Sun filtered through into the alleyway, falling on the ground in puddles of light. Above you, the sky was so clear, there wasn’t a cloud in sight. And you just wanted to cry and cry and cry.

There was a sound behind you, the scuff of a boot against the cement steps. You pushed your face into your crossed arms, not ready to face anyone just yet.

“Skip?”

It was John. Of course it was. Who else would they send after you?

He called you by your nickname again, then as he came to sit beside you, your real name, softer, more intimate.

Finally, you raised your head.

He was looking at you closely, his clever eyes switching across your face. He was trying to work out how upset you were, how carefully he needed to tread around you. That was just his way, John was just being a good friend, but right now, you didn't want kindness and gentleness, you just wanted to be left alone.

“John, I think maybe…”

“It’s going to be alright.”

It wasn’t like him to interrupt. Usually, John weighed every word with care, as if each syllable would cost him a great deal, or he had a finite number at his disposal. You had always admired that about him; everyone else in your life spoke so carelessly, like it didn't matter at all.

“John…”

“C’mon,” he said, nodding now, like he’d made up his mind about something. “Let’s go upstairs. We’ll have a cuppa and we’ll-”

You wrapped a hand around his arm and squeezed gently, asking him to stop without a word. John looked so crestfallen, you couldn’t bear it.

You stood up, crossing your arms over your chest, as if it would help to keep the sickness sitting in your throat at bay.

“I think maybe you should go home,” you said as gently as you could. “I’ll call you later. Okay?”

John looked surprised, then a little hurt. It shouldn’t have annoyed you but it did a little. He had no idea what you were going through, he should just listen and know that when you said you needed some time, you meant it.

But the small part of your brain that could still think clearly knew that wasn’t fair. If the roles were reversed, as they had been before, you knew you would badger John relentlessly until he was forced to talk about whatever was bothering him. But this wasn’t about an exam or a tiff with his band, this was your whole life, your whole future, and it had wrenched from your grasp without you even knowing it

“Okay.” John slowly rose to his feet, his hands awkwardly moving from his pockets to his hips, behind his back and then to his pockets again. “I’ll come see you. Later.”

You nodded, your lips pulled back in a grim smile.

“I’ll call you,” you said again firmly.

For a moment, John didn’t move, he didn’t even blink. Then finally, he seemed to get the message.

“Okay,” he said quietly. “Just… Be careful with yourself, darling.”

Then he was gone and you were alone again.

That was two days ago. You hadn’t left your lonely flat since.

You poured boiling water into your favourite mug, waited a few minutes, then added the milk. Your movements were robotic, rehearsed, the habit of a lifetime that required no thought at all, and thank God, as you didn’t have the energy to think or feel much of anything.

The phone rang again but you didn’t even spare it a glance as you padded back to your bedroom and closed the door.

Life went on like this for a few more days before finally, you decided to pull yourself together. You got dressed, headed downstairs, and debated whether or not to turn on the ovens.

Mickey hadn’t come into work since the news. You couldn’t blame him, he had a baby at home and a wife to reassure. You had no one. Just an empty flat and a cold, silent bakery. But even that wasn’t yours anymore. Mickey phoned often enough though, asking if there were any updates and if he could do anything to help. You wished you had something to tell him.

You looked around at the old kitchen. The multicoloured tiles from renovation after renovation, the cookers and the ovens, all older than half the buildings on the road, the pots and pans, bowls and utensils, all lying unused. They seemed to stare at you, waiting for answers, just like Mickey, just like the customers you watched from your window, who passed by every day and soon left again, looking disappointed and confused.

Yeah, you thought, me too.

You grabbed some paper from behind the till, scribble a quick note, then sellotaped it to the door.

Closed until further notice.

You stared at the sign, letting the words truly sink in, then turned and went to go hide yourself away upstairs.

Then the door chimed.

“Skip?”

You looked up, heart pounding. It had only been a few days, but it was the longest you’d gone without seeing John for the best part of a year.

You’d somehow forgotten how tall he was, how lanky and gangly he looked standing in the bakery doorway, his perfect, long hair a striking contrast to his shabby clothes.

He smiled at you, shy and unsure, and you wished you could do more than stare back.

“Hi,” John said as he carefully pushed open the door all the way and finally stepped inside.

As the door rang shut again, you gritted your teeth. You thought if he’d asked, if he’d given you the choice, you probably would’ve said that now wasn’t a good time and he should come back later.

“Hi,” you said instead, and watched him pocket the key Gladys had given him on his first day.

John looked at you like he was waiting for you to say more. You couldn’t blame him for that. You’d led every conversation you’d ever shared, guiding him and teasing him, wheedling information out of him with a fine hook. Now, you couldn’t for the life of you think of anything to say.

“You haven’t been answering the phone,” John said eventually. “I was worried.”

He cautiously approached the desk. Perhaps he’d only just noticed the thick tension in the air, or maybe he was just having trouble pushing through it, but he seemed to take careful steps, his eyes fixed on you.

“Well,” You tried not to sound huffy but it came out all wrong. “I’m kind of dealing with something right now. I don’t have time for…”

“What?”

He was challenging you, daring you to say more. You clammed up, feeling chastised.

“Did you talk to Gladys?”

You nodded.

You’d spent the last few days in meetings with your boss, discussing what had happened, trying to figure a way out of this mess, going over the details and again and again until you were both exhausted and resigned to the idea that this place was no longer yours. Everything that Gladys had built, everything you’d worked for, was gone.

“What did she say? What’s going on?”

John came closer until he could rest his hands on the counter. You stared at them, following the outline of each of his long fingers.

He really did have such lovely hands. The round onyx ring he wore on his little finger, the silver one he always took off and pocketed when he was helping out, because it was Freddie’s and he didn’t want to ruin it. The little scars from his childhood and faded burns from mucking about with machines. You’d missed them.

“Did you fix it?”

You pressed your lips together and shook your head.

“No.”

At home, you blankly stared at the ceiling, at the television screen, into the mirror. It had slowly begun to dawn on you that outside of 64 Oslo Square, you had nothing. Friends you saw once in a blue moon, no hobbies, no interests, no idea of what the future would hold. Everything, you’d put everything into the bakery, your whole life. In just a few weeks, you’d even have to find a new flat. Everything was falling apart.

“There has to be something we can do. She’s made a mistake.”

“I know.”

“C’mon, love. We can sort this out.”

It was too much. It was just all too much. You didn’t want to hear positivity and hopefulness, you didn’t want anyone to be kind to you, especially John, not after the way you’d pushed him away. You didn’t want gentleness and softness, because it meant he thought something had happened to warrant that care, and you didn’t want to be someone who needed looking after. You didn’t want to be someone that had had something so awful happen to them.

“I can’t do this.”

You pushed away from the counter and moved into the kitchen, heading for the door to your flat. All you wanted was to crawl back into bed and shut out the world. Compartmentalism had got you nowhere, not when one of the best things about your job had turned up out of the blue asking you a million questions and caring about you far more than you deserved.

You didn’t expect John to follow you, but you heard his boots clunking against the kitchen floor, his voice soft and low as he called out again,

“Skip?”

You bit back a sob. You weren’t Skip anymore. You weren’t the captain of anything. You had no bakery, no business, no prospects, you were just- You were nothing.

“Leave me alone.”

You tried to sound forceful but the words got caught in your throat.

“Love, please-”

John was right behind you as you wrenched open the door up to your flat. You could hear his stupid boots on the stairs.

“John, I can’t-”

“Just talk to me.”

“You don’t understand!”

You stopped in the middle of the stairs and span around. It must have taken John by surprise because he staggered to a halt, one foot hanging in midair, as if he’d been in the middle of a step.

“In a month, I won’t have a home or a job, and this place will be packed up and turned into luxury flats or some half-arsed storefront selling overpriced street food to bastards like him, and I won’t have anything.”

It was as if someone else was doing the talking. You could almost believe you were standing beside yourself, watching as you shouted at John, your eyes shining and your jaw tight. You wanted to tell yourself to stop, that he didn’t deserve to be talked to like that, but you couldn’t close the floodgates.

“And you, you’ll swan off with your band or pack it in and become an engineer, and you’ll forget all about us and this place, and I’ll never see you again.”

John’s eyes flashed but his expression was as neutral and measured as ever.

“That’s not going to happen,” he said evenly. “You really think that little of me?”

“Oh, shut up, I was only-”

“Don’t tell me to shut up. You don’t get to decide how much I care about something. Alright?”

“Why would you care? You’re just the delivery boy. Some student Gladys took pity on cos she can’t resist strays.”

“I love this place too, you know I do. Things aren’t as easy for me as you think.”

You scoffed. It annoyed you that he could be so rational and calm at a time like this, when all you wanted to do was shout and accuse and lash out.

“Oh, poor John. It must be so hard for you, being a genius and having to choose between being rich and famous and being a bloody rocket scientist, or whatever the fuck it is you do. Life must be so difficult.”

Finally, John scowled. He moved closer, so now he was on the step just below yours, your faces level for the first time.

“You don’t know anything about my life.”

“Not for lack of trying!”

“You’re so- I’ve given you more of myself than I’ve ever given anyone!”

“Oh, well lucky me.”

“God, you’re-”

“What?”

“You’re…”

John trailed off. He seemed to realise, at the same time as you, just how close you were to each other.

You waited, hardly daring to breathe. John was maybe a few inches away, his chin tilted up ever so slightly so that he could meet your gaze. His pretty, silvery green eyes were fixed on yours, as if to make a point. You were fighting the same urge, to not look down at his lips, angled so perfectly up towards you, it was enough to make your chest lurch.

Slowly, so slowly it was almost painful, you watched as John’s gaze finally slipped and he glanced down at your mouth. Surrender. You followed immediately, and felt time speed up again. You caught your breath. Your heart was hammering so hard, you were sure John must’ve been able to hear it, feel it.

John’s gaze dropped again and stayed for longer this time, very obviously debating something that terrified and excited you all at once. It was just a matter of who would give in first.

“We’re not going to kiss,” you whispered, not trusting your voice. “Not like…”

You made the mistake of letting your eyes fall to his lips again, one last time. They parted ever so slightly, an invitation, like he was asking you to give in and take what you’d been wanting for so long. You pressed your lips together and immediately regretted it. You’d given yourself away.

The corner of John’s mouth twitched up into a little smile.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he murmured. “You said some horrible things to me.”

You pulled in a lungful of air and closed your eyes. The moment was gone, but it still took you a second or two to get your feet back on the ground.

“I’m sorry,” You rubbed your tired eyes, feeling guilty and ashamed and dizzy all at once. “I was being stupid.”

John shrugged.

“Just because it was hurtful doesn’t mean it wasn’t accurate.”

“Still, I’m being an idiot. I’m sorry, John. It’s been a fucking awful week.”

He smiled to let you know he understood. Then his eyes dropped to your mouth again, just for a second, but you couldn’t have missed it.

“Not like what?” he asked softly.

“What?”

“You said ‘We’re not going to kiss. Not like…’. Not like what?” John raised his eyebrows. “Not like this, you mean?”

It hadn’t occurred to you that you’d spoken those words out loud. It was jarring to hear John repeat them back to you, and even more surprising to realise that’s exactly what you meant.

You nodded.

“Not like this.”

This wasn’t the right time, as much as it pained you. He was so close, looking up at you so sweetly, telling you how much he cared about you and that he just wanted to help. But John was right, you’d been horrible to him, and you were so sad you could barely breathe. When you did kiss him, you wanted it to be right, you wanted it to be good, you wanted to make the world stop turning.

John nodded, looking down at his ridiculous shoes. When he looked up again, his gaze still lingered antagonistically around your mouth. You wondered if he was doing it on purpose.

“When then?”

“What?”

“When can I kiss you?”

You couldn’t help it, you laughed.

“When you get me my bakery back.”

John grinned. He had such a lovely smile, so bright and honest.

“I’m gonna hold you to that.”

“Promise?”

John crossed his index finger over his heart.

“Promise.”

You beamed at each other. For a moment, it was as if nothing had changed, like nothing was wrong, or could ever be wrong. Because John was here and he was smiling at you, and he wanted to kiss you and knew you wanted to kiss him. But then reality slowly seeped in, harsh and so cold, it made you shiver.

“It’s hopeless, John,” you murmured, and pressed your face into your palms.

John wrapped his long fingers around your forearms and squeezed gently. When he carefully pulled your hands away from your face, you saw he was smiling sweetly.

“Shall I stick the kettle on?” he asked.

You’d never heard anything more romantic in your life.

You led him up the stairs to your flat and let him make you a cup of tea, while you sat on the sofa and watched him move around in the kitchen.

It was only tiny. Even ‘kitchen’ was a generous word, it was just the two sideboards, the hob and some cupboards set into the wall, but John moved around them as if he’d lived there all his life, and you were, once again, assured that he was fated to be 64 Oslo Square’s delivery boy.

“I was thinking about finding a flat. For after uni.” John handed you a mug and sat down beside you. “You could, um… Maybe I could start looking now and… You know, obviously we don’t know when things will… But I could look and…”

You blinked at him.

“Are you asking me to move in with you?”

John’s cheeks were tinged pink.

“I just want you to know you have options. I know you’re going to figure this out, but I want you to know you have somewhere safe to stay.”

Your chest squeezed as a wave of affection washed over you. How did you ever get so lucky? It was a small relief, in a way, to know that no matter what happened, you had a friend in John. The idea of moving into a flat together felt unreal right now. The more you pondered on it, the more the severity of your situation seemed to settle in.

“There’s nothing to figure out, John.” You sighed. “Gladys signed the paperwork. You know, she didn’t even really understand what she was signing? He got her drunk then pushed the papers across the table and told her he wanted to invest in the bakery, she just had to sign. Daft cow.”

“How’s Mickey taking it?”

“He’s alright. He’s a fantastic baker, he could find a job anywhere.”

“So could you.”

“I couldn’t.”

“You’re joking. Everything you make is incredible! And you’re passionate and you’re dedicated… You could find somewhere else. Maybe start your own place someday.”

You laughed softly, embarrassed by the compliment. His faith in you was flattering. No one had ever said anything like that to you before.

You reached out and took John’s hand, folding your fingers between his and interlocking them, as if you’d done it a million times before.

“You’re so sweet. But I can’t.” You squeezed his hand gently. “I started working here when I was sixteen. Have I told you that?”

John shook his head.

“I used to pass by on my way to school. Me and my friends would come in every Friday. And every day, Gladys was there, behind the counter. And she was mad and funny and she let us stay all afternoon, even though we only had enough money for a cuppa and a cake. And when I left school, there was one place I wanted to work.”

You looked up at the photo of you, Gladys and Mickey on your mantelpiece. Your tiny, ridiculous, mismatched family.

“I was just behind the counter at first, like you. But it was fun, it was a living. Then Shaz, the head baker back then, she started letting me help out. I loved it so much. The time things took. The attention to detail. The warmth of the kitchen. And it’s stressful but it’s full of love. You know? Everything we make is…”

You squeezed John’s hand again.

“When you see people smiling because of the things you make… It’s the best feeling in the world. I asked if I could start working as a baker and Gladys agreed, and even knocked a bit off the price of this place.”

Together, you looked around at your tiny flat. It wasn’t much but it was home, it was yours. You’d never had anything that was just yours before, and you couldn’t stress it enough, the importance of having space, having ownership, a room of one’s own, especially for a working class woman in 1973, especially for someone making it on their own.

“This is my home, John. And these people, they’re my family. I had nothing and the bakery gave me a purpose. I can’t just find somewhere else. I can’t. I can’t. It’s Oslo Square or nothing.”

John watched you for a moment, and you wondered if maybe you’d bored him with your outpouring. You wouldn’t be shocked. But then he raised your interlocked hands and held them to his chest.

“I’ll get it back for you. I promise.”

You laughed softly. He’d surprised you yet again.

“Where did you come from, New Boy? You really are an angel, aren’t you.”

“I don’t know about that.” John shyly glanced away. “The bakery means a lot to me too now. I want to help. If I can.”

Was it too early to revise your ‘no kissing’ policy? You really wanted to kiss him. Actually, kissing John would probably fix most of your problems. Or, at the very least, make them much easier to deal with. God, you could probably make him moan with just a kiss, you could tell from looking at him that he’d be a noisy one. Or maybe he’d lay you back on the couch and run those stupidly big hands all over you, playing you like one of his instruments. You wouldn’t mind that at all.

“Skip?”

You blinked. John was looking at you expectantly.

“Oh, sorry,” You gave him a wonky sort of a grin. “Just a bit tired, I think.”

John didn’t look like he believed you but he let you off the hook.

“I think you need to get out of the house.”

You had to agree. Aside from nipping to the shops for the essentials, you hadn’t left your flat since Gladys’ news.

“Where do you wanna go?”

“Well, actually,” John said guiltily. “I have to meet the lads at three. I wondered if you wanted to come.”

“To watch you rehearse?”

“It’ll probably be really boring for you, but you’ll get to see a few arguments. And we can get lunch first or dinner after or… I don’t mind, I just want you with me.” John blushed. “But you can say no, I didn’t mean to-”

You laughed softly. He really was the sweetest boy alive.

“I’d love to, John.”

That afternoon, Queen were rehearsing in a studio space in South London. John was tempted to grab the tube but you convinced him onto the bus, remembering, as you handed over your change to the driver, that he’d once admitted he was nervous about travelling that way. If he was going to be a proper Londoner, you thought, he had to learn how to use the buses, and the 49 seemed as good a place to start as any.

You watched John watch the world go by. He really was so beautiful and he had no clue. He had some semblance of an idea that he was alright, you knew that. The way John preened in front of every passing mirror told you so. But he didn’t see the lovely slope of his strong nose, or the way his grey eyes shone every time he saw something that piqued his interest, or the way his lovely, funny mouth twitched at the corners just before he was about to murmur something to you in that lovely, funny voice.

You’d tell him, you decided. Soon. You’d tell him just how beautiful you thought he was.

It was only when you followed John through the quiet, carpeted corridors of the recording studios that you began to feel nervous. You’d never been anywhere like that before, it was a foreign land.

As you passed, you peered through the porthole windows of every door to catch glimpses of steely grey microphones and mixing desks in big glass boxes. It was like something out of a film, something you’d only ever seen in magazines and photographs.

John seemed totally at ease. You supposed you were seeing him in his world for the first time. He would protest, he was a scientist, an engineer, he wasn’t a rockstar, but he was a musician, through and through. This world of dials and crossfades and endless electric cables suited him very well.

Eventually, he pushed open a door and held it open for you, gesturing for you to go in first.

The room was only small, probably all he and his friends could afford to hire by the hour. In the corner sat a shiny, black grand piano. Freddie tapped on the keys, humming under his breath as if building a tune just from a few plaintive notes. Next to that, there was a row of guitars all standing to attention, and a drum kit, steadily being put together to just the right requirements by Roger.

He looked up when the door opened.

“Hi, John. We were just saying-” Roger stopped in his tracks and immediately brightened when he saw you come in. “Bakery girl!”

“Hiya, Rog.”

You laughed as he came over to give you a big hug. It had been a while since you’d seen John, so it had been even longer since you saw his friends. You were sure Roger was only sweet to you because he knew it annoyed John but you were more than happy to play along.

John waited until Roger had gone back to his drum kit to stop frowning.

“Brian not here yet?” he asked, a little gruffly.

Freddie scoffed.

“He’s late. Again. He’s teaching somewhere in Balham. He’ll probably be hours, you know how he likes to bang on. You don’t play guitar, do you, love?”

You smiled shyly as Freddie also came over to greet you.

“No, sorry. Just the recorder in Year 3.”

“Ah, you’ll fit right in.”

Freddie beamed.

You didn’t know him as well as Roger but every time you saw Freddie, you practically tripped over yourself to befriend him. He was just so cool, so beautiful, his voice soft and his mannerisms so enchanting. He drew you in, just as he did the crowds when he was on stage, like a siren beckoning in beguiled ships.

“How are you doing?” Freddie held you by the shoulders as his soft dark eyes searched yours. “We’ve heard about this awful business with that twat. Andrew, was it?”

“Alastair.”

“That’s the bastard.” Freddie shook his head. “I’m so sorry, love.”

You wondered how much John had told them. By all accounts, he wasn’t the most talkative of people. In fact, you were still getting used to how much he spoke now. If you compared the boy standing beside you to the boy who first anxiously walked into the bakery that cold January night, you would almost say they were completely different people.

“Thanks, Freddie.”

“Are you staying?” asked Roger.

You glanced at John and he shot you an encouraging smile.

“If it’s okay with you lot?”

“Make yourself at home!”

You found a seat off to the side, just behind John’s amp.

You couldn’t help staring, transfixed, as he got himself set up. You could watch his hands forever, the way his fingers slipped over the strings, how the instrument fit perfectly against his body. Even watching him plug in his bass was mesmerising. It all just seemed to come so naturally to John, as most things did. He really was wonderful.

Queen warmed up slowly, giving Brian more time to turn up, and as they did, they passed ideas back and forth to each other. It was like a foreign language. Musical terms, notes, lyrics, pacing, you didn’t understand any of it, though you loved to listen to the boys figure it all out together.

For the most part, Freddie and Roger talked back and forth, while John watched, thumbing pensively at the thickest string of his bass as he waited to play. But you noticed how they never decided anything without consulting John for the final say, and his word seemed to be gospel.

John looked back at you over his shoulder and shot you a rare confident smile. You just had time to blush before the door opened and Brian fell in, apologising and shaking his head so that his wild, dark curls danced.

Brian waved to you but didn’t waste any time chatting. He grabbed his guitar and struck up a chord that filled the room with that familiar, quintessentially them sound.

They were magic to watch. You couldn’t wait to see what they became.

Soon, Freddie started to complain that he needed a drink to soothe his raw voice, and Roger and Brian went with him. They asked if you and John wanted anything but you both declined quickly, eager to be alone together again.

As soon as the door shut behind them, John turned to you properly and smiled. He nodded down at his bass, asking wordlessly if you’d like to try.

Grinning, you nodded too, and tried not to look too pleased as he ducked out of the strap. John gently lifted it over your head, and you tried to keep still as he settled the bass against you. You’d never held a bass guitar before. You hadn’t expected it to be so heavy.

“Oof, wow.”

You rolled your shoulders back, adjusting your posture so that you could balance its weight better.

“I know,” John’s hands skirted over your shoulders, making sure the strap was sitting comfortably first before he came round to stand in front of you. “I’ll have a terrible back when I’m an old man, I’m sure of it.”

Trying to remember how his hands moved when you watched him play, you lifted your left hand and pressed the tip of your index finger against the first metal string. It was thick and strong, and indented your skin as you pressed down. You couldn’t imagine how he managed to play so quickly, so deftly. The instrument seemed ungainly and oversensitive to you.

“You make it look so easy.”

John just smiled.

It was nice to see him in his element, to see him confident and sure of himself. He’d had once told you that he only picked up the bass because his first band needed it. You found it hard to believe, John and the bass, they seemed made for each other.

“You’ve almost got it. Here.”

You held your breath as John moved to stand behind you again. His left hand came up to cover yours, gently twisting your wrist around so that it was positioned nicely under the neck. With his other hand, he plucked a few notes on the lowest string, then took your index finger between his and showed you how to curl it just right. You swallowed thickly, and hoped he wouldn’t be able to hear your shaky breaths.

“Feels funny,” John said as he watched you pluck out a few tentative notes. “Me teaching you something for once.”

Face hot, you just tried to concentrate on playing right.

“You’re a much better baker than I am a bassist.”

John moved closer to correct your left hand, and now his chest was pressed up against your back. You tensed, trying to keep as still as possible but it was difficult to concentrate with him so close. All questions about whether he was doing it on purpose left your head when he spoke softly by your ear, his breath tickling your skin.

“I don’t know,” John let his hand slip down your forearm, just as it did the neck of his bass, and tentatively let it rest just above your waist. “Looks pretty good from where I’m standing.”

You stopped attempting to play, it was pointless. You couldn’t so much as hold a thought in your head, let alone carry a tune. You turned your head to the side until you could just see John out of the corner of your eye.

“You’ve taught me a lot, you know,” John went on. “Not just the baking. You’ve made me much braver.”

His big hand felt heavy against your side. You were suddenly hyper aware of the slightest movement of each of his fingers. While his other arm was slung across the body of the bass, his fingers tucked underneath it to support its weight, the fingers of his left hand pressed into your soft waist ever so slightly and you had to hold back a gasp. You were touching so much, it was insane, you could barely remember your own name.

“I think I just bullied you into talking more.”

Your voice was shaky and low. You knew John would catch it but you didn’t care. You were too busy thinking about how warm his chest felt against your back, and how if you angled your hips just right, you could sink back into him until his hips were fitted against your arse. Then John spoke again, so close now that it felt like his lips were close to brushing your neck

“I’m glad you did.”

You could practically feel him smile against your skin as he added,

“You’re good for me, I think.”

Slowly, carefully, you turned your head a little further, and John shifted around so that you could meet each other’s gaze properly.

His confidence seemed to slip the moment he knew you could see him, but the hand that rested heavily on your waist slipped down to your hip and squeezed.

“I think you’re good for me too,” you said, and smiled when John blushed under your gaze.

There was no space between you at all. Just one move, one inclination of your head, one press of John’s hand, and you’d be in his arms, your fingers in his lovely hair, your mouth pressed against his with only the bass between you, and suddenly the worst week of your life would be over.

You had just the wherewithal to realise how wrong you’d been. You thought you were alone, you thought you had no life outside of the bakery, but here you were, in the arms of the sweetest boy you’d ever known, listening to his band create some of the best music you’d ever heard, and John truly believed everything would be okay. Maybe you ought to trust him.

John let out a short breath, the corners of his mouth turning upwards, as if he too was nervous and excited and uncertain all at once. How sweet it was to know he felt exactly what you were feeling.

“What you said about, erm, no kissing till I’ve got your bakery back,” John murmured, his pretty eyes fixed unashamedly on your mouth. “Is that a… Is that a hard and fast rule? Or more like a suggestion?”

You smiled, and watched John’s adam’s apple bob in his lovely throat.

“What do you think, pretty boy?”

It was very clear from the look in John’s eyes what he thought about that. He bent his head, slowly and with great consideration, just like with everything he did, until the tip of his nose brushed yours. You felt your eyes close without you needing to think about it, your lips parting as you heard John say,

“You’ve no idea how long I’ve been waiting t-”

“Oh, have we got a new bassist? Lovely.”

Your eyes snapped open in time to see Freddie swoop into the room with a drink in his hand. He was smiling like the Cheshire Cat.

“I can’t tell you how pleased I am, love. You’ll look much better in the costumes.”

John begrudgingly moved away but he was smiling to himself. Caught. When his hands left you, it felt like all the air had come rushing back into the room.

The boys chatted as they filed back in, passing around ideas and thoughts on the next show, but you could barely hear them over the sound of your own heart thumping in your ears.

John stayed close. You couldn’t be more relieved. After today, after this week, you never wanted him to move out of arm’s reach again.

“Thanks for today,” you whispered to him, when you were sure the others wouldn’t hear you. “I needed this.”

John shrugged, then carefully helped you out from under his bass. He slipped it over his head, then swung the guitar round so that it wouldn’t bump against you as he took your hand in his.

“You’ve saved me enough times. It’s about time I returned the favour, Captain.”

“I’m still Captain, am I?”

“Of course! You’ll always be my captain.”

“I was worried… I thought maybe you wouldn’t want to see me anymore, now you don’t have to.”

John smiled.

“It wasn’t the bakery I was coming to see, love. I haven’t been getting up at the crack of dawn and peddling across half of London for the bakery. I didn’t suffer scraped knees and a daft helmet for Gladys and her bloody ancient coffee machine.”

You marvelled at this for a second, then you smiled.

“It’s Mickey, isn’t it.”

John laughed.

“Oh, yeah. Yeah. Can’t get enough of the bloke.”

“I knew it, I knew it.”

”It’s the arms.”

“Who can blame you.”

Master List

#john deacon #queen #john deacon x reader #john deacon reader #john deacon fic #queen fic #john deacon x you

27 notes · View notes

trashiewrites · 1 year

Text

Some things never change

Pairing: Rise!Leo x F!Reader

words: 753

A/N: Okay! So my new obsession! I swear ill go back to cod but I needed to get this out my system! I may or may not do more ROTTMNT content idk not sure yet! Alrighty hope to those that read this enjoy!!!

WARNING: POST-MOVIE SO MOVIE SPOILERS?? KIND OF?? NOT REALLY!!

"LEO!!" (Y/n) rushed over, wrapping the blue turtle in her embrace. Resting her head on his shoulder as she sobbed. "You IDIOT! Scaring me like that! Scaring everyone!" She gripped onto his plastron, tears rolling down her face. Leo slowly placed a hand on her head, softly caressing her scalp. "I thought I'd never see you again! Your generally crappy one-liners, your charming smile," she went on and on; the others stood behind staring fondly at the two. They all shared her sentiment.

Leo moved her to see her face, "Woah Woah, you saying you don't like my one-liners!" He cupped his hands around her face wiping fresh tears as they fell. "First of all, how dare you~" he cooed at her, "secondly... I'm sorry. Keeping you safe, keeping everyone safe was my first priority." He spoke in a serious yet sincere tone, flashing her his iconic grin. She couldn't be angry as much as she wanted to be, she was just scared. "If my sacrifice promised you a better life, I would in a heartbe-"

"A world without you Leon, god, I can't even imagine it!" She wrapped her arms around his neck, resting herself in the crook of his neck. "Leonardo, I think I speak for everyone that without you; life, the world would be incomplete." Leo's eyes open wide, hearing those words come from her mouth. The others nod as Leo's eyes scan the room; overwhelmed by emotion, his eyes well with tears. Casey Jones looked on seeing the two acting like this made him relieved. It made of think back to his times, times he would be up late seeing master Leonardo sitting alone on the lookout.

Especially after the death of Raph and Donnie, Master Leo looked at those wastelands with a cloud of fear. Nights were then joined by his wife, who always brewed him a fresh cup of tea. The two always talked till late into the night, and despite being in the apocalypse the two always laughed about something. She kept Master Leo looking forward, looking straight. In the hell he lived in, he never saw a man happier in his life.

Coming back to reality Casey sighed, "I'm glad some things never change." He smiled, not yet realizing how loud he said that.

"What doesn't change Casey!" Mikey leaned closer to Casey, staring up at him intently.

"Oh sorry, I didn't mean to say that so loud! It's nothing!" He laughed nervously; he pulled his mask down slowly. His face flushed red from embarrassment.

"No no, go on Casey. I'm deathly curious now!" Leo raised his brow, giving him a smirk. Casey rubbed the back of his neck, "let me guess! Me being the greatest and strongest ninja ever~"

"Leo!" The group laughed in unison as he shrugged. (Y/n) wiped tears from her eyes as she stared lovingly at Leo. "All that talk about it not being about you!"

"What can I say, old habits die hard~"

"Okay shut it, Leo, let him speak." Donatello pulled out a notepad and waited intensely, "the next thing he says could possibly expand my research into quantum time theories and the existence of multiple timelines!"

"It's nothing that important," Casey rubbed his shoulder, "It's just for those two, even despite future changing their care for each other hasn't. It's kind of a relief to me." Casey raised his mask again, his eyes down to the floor, "I even see why they got married in my time..."

"MARRIED!" The room went into chaos after Casey spoke these words. Mickey and Raph were gushing, April wasn't reacting that much but had an approving look. Donnie threw his notepad on the floor in a huff and Splinter well he was silent, eyes closed while nodding his head; who knows what happens in there... (Y/N) was a stuttering mess, Leo watched her in amusement and even teased her from time to time. In any case, Casey should have never said it.

"Some things really never change" he spoke quieter this time. No need for another freakout.

BONUS!!

Leo: See (y/n)! We were destined for each other!

Y/n: M-m-m-m-ma-ma...

Leo: oooohhhh a wedding in an apocalyptic time, that must have been fun! Butalsolikereallydepressing... did we go on a honeymoon?

Casey: You guys got married before I was born so idk...

Y/n: m-m *passes out momentarily*

Leo: oughhh boi, I think we genuinely lost her... oh she must be so happy she died~

All: LEO!

Leo: JOKING joking! Jesuss- she passes out when she gets super overwhelmed, she's fine!

#rottmnt #rise of the turtles #rise leo #leo x reader #Leo x F!reader #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #teenage mutant ninja turtles x reader #teenage mutant ninja turtle imagine #leo fanfic #future!leo #Future!leo x reader

215 notes · View notes

bippot · 2 years

Text

Summary: Before and after a mission, sober or drunken, Bob wants to spend his time with just one gal. Their friends are also rather amused by his obvious crush on her and like to document their interactions.

Tags: Friends to Lovers, Drunkenness, Drunken Shenanigans, Fluff

Song recommendation: Shut Up and Kiss Me by Marianas Trench

Top Gun: Maverick, Robert "Bob" Floyd Masterlist - here

"How's it going, cowboy?"

That was the greeting Bob craved every day. He felt like he needed it. If he was having the worst day of his life, he could hear that and everything would seem brighter. And the smile she gave him? He felt like the luckiest guy on the face of the Earth.

Boomerang was perfect to Bob. All of her was made for him in his mind. It was as if she was put on the globe to redden his cheeks and make his heart beat faster whenever he came within her sight.

Phoenix seemingly was the only one who picked up on the crush he had on Y/N. It was the way his spectacled gaze would linger on her for a moment too long. Or how he'd look down and smile to himself if she ever was nice to him. Or there was that one time he had just removed his helmet and his hair was all over and Y/N reached out to brush it back in place, boy, did Bob fall silent and take the biggest gulp Nat had ever seen.

"So...Y/N, huh?" Natasha said, her voice teasing as she barged into Bob's room that he shared with Fanboy and got comfortable on his bed. When he didn't answer, she took the tip of her shoe and lightly nudged him on the bicep.

"Ew, don't touch me with that!" he whined, pushing her foot away. He had to do it several times since she kept swerving and jabbing him in different areas in an effort to get him to spill the beans. Eventually, he managed to catch her ankle and stop her from physically assaulting him. "Seriously, think about how much dirt is on the bottom of your shoe. Gross, Nat."

Natasha smirked as she watched him squirm. She found his discomfort very entertaining, and it got even more fun to watch as she taunted, "Fine, fine. It's been great catching up with you, Floyd, but I've got some hot gossip that I think Y/N, you know her - my roommate - would love to hear."

"You wouldn't!?!"

"Ah! I knew it!"

Shit. He let his head slump in defeat. As usual, Phoenix was right. Bob groaned, dragging his hand down his face as he accepted the fact that Nat would be watching his interactions with Y/N with eagle eyes and a knowing glint in them from now on. That was going to be annoying and soooo good for his confidence.

And that's how life went for a while - Bob desperately trying to seem cool and dateable to Boomerang whilst under the analytical watch of Phoenix, who was trying her best to be supportive yet it often bordered on overbearing. He'd hardly made any 'progress', mostly because he was barely trying. It would be best if he ignored it. His crush would go away then, right?

All their conversations had been mostly platonic until one day when Bob was issued for yet another dangerous mission. The night before a knock on his door broke him out of his preflight nerves. He opened it a crack to find Y/N smiling at him, standing on his doorstep in her pyjamas with a smallish bag on her shoulder.

"Hey, cowboy."

"Hey," he breathed, his heart pounding in his chest. "Mickey's with Ruben if you were looking for him."

"No. I was hoping to see you."

The way she said it sent a zing through his system. Bob's mouth went dry as he tried to formulate a response, so he stepped to the side and gestured that she could come inside if she wanted to.

"Nat may have mentioned that you tend to freak out before big missions and that nobody had checked up on you. So, here I am. Your knight in shining armour. Or whatever you want me to be."

Oh god, he wished that was the only thing Nat told her. No, Phoenix would never do that. Would she? No, no. Maybe? No, absolutely not.

"If you're not in the mood just say and I'll leave you alone. I know-"

"Stay! I mean... I'm, I'm in the mood. Not in that way, not in a sexy mood. A sociable mood and -" He took a breath so his ramble wouldn't get any worse, then admitted, "I'd like you to stay."

Her wide-eyed expression was worth the embarrassment Bob had to endure. Her lips quivered upwards in amusement and she smiled sweetly, her eyes twinkling with what seemed to be mirth and excitement. He couldn't help but smile back.

Since she had confirmation now, she reached into her bag and brought out her Switch. "That's good because I planned on completely wiping the floor with you on Mario Kart," she teased him, taking out one controller and passing it to Bob as they both sat down on his duvet.

He grinned, "Bless your heart, you're going to lose every single time, sweetheart," and if by magic, his accent became more prominent.

"Oh, it's on!"

Excitedly, the game began, their controllers in hand, as both started to laugh, play, and tease each other with ease and familiarity. It really was like nothing else mattered anymore as Bob focused on their little world. He forgot about all his problems and responsibilities and worries for tomorrow.

"You little fucker! How dare you blue shell me!"

"That's what you get, Floyd."

Originally, Y/N was going to take it easy on him but he was great at the game and had managed to surprise her. With no hesitation, she took advantage of this opportunity to kick his ass, show him she wouldn't give in so easily even if he was cute as hell. He looked so adorable all focused on the screen. His brows were furrowed, his lips pursed, and his tongue stuck out as he concentrated intensely.

It wasn't long until he noticed she had taken her eyes off the game and that they stared at him instead. Smiling sheepishly, he lowered the game controller and turned towards her, his eyes twinkling. "What? Do I have something on my face?" he asked, his cheeks flushing under her scrutiny.

"No, I'm just enjoying the sight of your face when you lose," she retorted without missing a beat. As a response, he lightly punched her on the shoulder and she decided to go completely overboard. She clutched the area of impact and dramatically whined, "Ow, I think I've lost feeling. Fuck, it stings! You might have to amputate or something. You okay with blood? Lieutenant, you're so strong that my arm is no longer functional!"

Bob chuckled at her reaction, amused by the theatrics she was putting on but also touched that she cared enough about his well-being to try and cheer him up in such a way. A way that worked since he was feeling much better, better than he had in a while.

More and more matches were played. Y/N won a few. Bob won a few. They were on a competitive streak when Mickey returned to his room, surprised by their laughter. As he was playing, Bob had begun to fight dirty and was shielding Y/N's eyes as she tried to navigate blind.

"What place am I in?"

"Last."

"Bulshit!" She tried her hardest to wriggle away from his hand as she laughed in delight at their silliness. "Ha! I'm sixth!"

"Doesn't matter, you're still losing."

Mickey had been listening in through the door for a moment before he opened it fully and let himself in quietly, standing behind them, a large smirk on his face as he saw the scene before him - huddled together on his bed, Y/N and Bob were essentially play fighting as they kept swiping their hands in the others line of vision.

At some point, Y/N had stolen Bob's glasses and had them perched on her nose in an effort to put him at a disadvantage, whereas Bob had squished Y/N between his back and the wall, moving his head and hand in the way of the screen at any chance he could. Mickey had never seen anything so adorable. He shook his head and quickly retrieved his phone to snap a picture before he ruined the moment.

"Hey, Boomerang," Mickey called out in a sing-song voice. Both paused what they were doing, and looked at him as he distracted them from their game. "This looks cosy."

"Don't worry, we'll finish this race then I'll let you get your precious beauty sleep, Garcia," she replied, trying her hardest to conceal how she didn't really want to leave and stop having fun.

With one final win by Bob, it was time for the pair to part ways. Following her to the door, Bob closed it behind him in an effort to get some form of privacy from Fanboy.

"Thank you, Y/N. Thank you for checking up on me."

"Anytime, cowboy." She smirked at him coyly, placing her hand on his shoulder. "I would say good luck, but with your skills? I really don't think you'll need it."

Before he could talk himself out of it, Bob brought her into a bear hug, burying his head into her shoulder, breathing deeply and trying not to sob like a child. His grip tightened when she hugged him back, pulling him closer as he tried to steady his mind. He felt like he needed to say something. Anything. But he couldn't bring himself to.

"I'll see you tomorrow. And tomorrow's tomorrow," she reassured as she pulled back to look at him, her smile brightening his entire being and causing butterflies to explode in his stomach. She leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss onto his cheek.

A million thoughts raced around in his brain making the hairs on his arms stand up on end. Her eyes met his, a soft blush covering her cheeks as she shyly gave him a small wave, "Night, cowboy," and departed to her room.

He stood there, stunned for a minute until a smile slowly appeared on his face and spread uncontrollably as he realised what had just happened. He ran a hand through his hair and leaned against the door frame, trying to get his bearings. All he could feel was giddiness as he made his way back into his room.

"So...Y/N, huh?"

"Shut up, Mickey."

Just as she thought it would, the mission went down a success. They came out the other side alive and in tip-top shape. No injuries. Nothing. Everything went perfectly according to plan, which was odd because Hangman had been chosen to fly too and he went his own way on the occasion.

"Tell me how good I looked getting out of my plane, Boomer," Hangman yelled over to Y/N once they landed on the ground, a huge grin splitting his face. She rolled her eyes as she walked toward him and accepted the hug that he was offering.

"You look like shit."

"Language! Baby on board might've heard that."

"Phoenix and Bob haven't landed yet."

Jake was about to say something else but then they heard the familiar sounds of a plane getting closer and closer. They shared a knowing grin and moved away from the landing zone. A few moments later, the plane landed and the two pilots emerged in an instant.

"Bagman, you weren't insufferable. Good job, jackass," Phoenix declared as she patted the taller man on the back.

"Praise like that warms my heart, it really does," he retorted, his joking tone attempting to hide how truthfully his statement was. But he did have a genuine smile on his face as he nodded approvingly, his pride clearly shown.

Coyote and Payback were congratulating Bob as Y/N did the same with Phoenix and Rooster arrived on the field a few seconds later. Once he reached them, they exchanged hugs, a big grin on everyone's faces as they all congratulated each other again. In the celebration, Bob managed to catch Y/N's eye and she gave him a questioning thumbs up as if she was asking 'How's it going, cowboy?' like always. He shyly returned the gesture, blushing slightly but pleased nevertheless.

In his head, Bob had it all planned out. He was going to get out of the cockpit and tug his helmet off - somehow his hair would stay perfectly styled in this dream - then he'd spot Boomerang. She'd be swooning the moment she saw him. He'd sweep her up in his arms and kiss her right there on the runway where anyone could see them. But that didn't happen. Of no fault of anyone, they happened to be dragged into conversations with other people. And by the time Bob got to her, his adrenaline had dipped significantly and he found himself unable to go through with his plan.

Instead, he simply stood there with his mouth open, then promptly closed it as she once again brushed his hair back into place when they were finally beside each other. "Hi," he greeted softly.

"Told you I'd see you tomorrow."

"Don't forget tomorrow's tomorrow."

And then she was hugging him and laughing and smiling and he was drowning in the joys of being able to hug her back. The excitement and exhilaration coursed through his body in waves as she held onto him tightly, like she never wanted to let go. And in all honesty, neither did he. It didn't matter if the rest of the world could watch them - all he wanted to do was spend every single moment with this girl.

She pulled away first. She looked at him with a bright and radiant expression. He stared back at her, awestruck. Unable to look away from her. Unable to think straight. Unable to move.

The flash of a camera broke the spell. They both snapped their heads toward the source of the noise, realising that Rooster had seen the two of them and decided to immortalise it forever. He was looking at them both with a wide, stupid grin across his lips. There was no mistaking the gleam of amusement in his eyes. Bob glared at him as Y/N gave him a playful shove and muttered, "Stop smiling like that, creeper."

Unsurprisingly, The Hard Deck was where the celebration was held. Honestly, Bob wasn't much of a drinker. Sure, he'd been drinking before, but he didn't really like getting drunk all that much. Yet, they'd almost died. Again. Why not? Why not have a little fun? That was the sentiment running around his head as he drank his cocktails. Why not get a little wild?

"To not dying!" Bob slurred to himself as he took a big gulp from the cocktail he'd just bought. If he was going to get wasted, the stuff he was drinking would have to taste good. That martini made him feel real wavy. The alcohol was starting to kick in, he was sure of it.

It became apparent how much it had kicked in as he walked up to Y/N as she was talking to Jake and Ruben and attached himself to her side like some sort of overly affectionate pet, swaying in time to whatever tune that was playing. She jumped at the unexpected side hug but eased when she saw who it was.

"Hey," he slurred, trying to come off as nonchalantly as he possibly could. "What you guys talking about?"

"Bob, bud, how many drinks have you had?" Y/N questioned, looking down at his glass and then back up at his face, which was gorgeously flushed due to his intoxication. She couldn't help but smile as she watched him try to make sense of the words she spoke.

"I dunno. Like...a hundred or something?"

Hangman knew this was a golden opportunity to tease Bob. How could he not? That's how he shows affection to his friends. "Woah, one hundred? That's a world record, I'm sure," Jake barked mischievously, laughing at his friend's expense. Y/N shot him a glare and shook her head disapprovingly, but there was no denying how she smiled at his comment, no matter how hard she tried not to.

Since he was inebriated, Bob had no qualms to retort, "Least I'd have a world record, man whore," and all of them let out a giggle at his insult. He then turned and looked directly at Y/N after finishing the last of his drink, a sly smirk plastered on his face. "That a good jab?"

"Great one, cowboy."

"Nice."

The other two men laughed at the scene play out before them. But Y/N was far too distracted by Bob now, so she didn't notice. She only focused on the way he seemed to grasp at her tighter, pulling her even closer to him. It felt nice being close to him. He usually wasn't very touchy with anyone else. But, it seemed that tonight was different. Why he chose Y/N to be all cuddly with, she had no idea.

But, nonetheless, she enjoyed it and was grateful for it. It wasn't every day super cute, super hot Robert Floyd decided to have a cwtch so she'd have to savour it while it lasted and it looked as if he needed some aid to stand so she wrapped her arm around his middle.

From across the bar, Rooster nudged Phoenix and gestured to their buddies. "Guess Bob's little crush is common knowledge now," Bradley joked as he sipped his beer, thoroughly amused by Bob's actions.

"You knew too, huh?"

"He's pretty obvious about it."

"He's pretty wasted too."

No kidding. Despite being in public, Bob was completely okay with running his hand up and down Y/N's waist and squeezing it every now and then when he wanted more of her attention as she tried to carry on with the conversation she was having. Her cheeks were dusted pink and she hoped to god that neither Hangman nor Payback wouldn't mention it because she'd never be able to live it down.

"Y/N, it's your round," Jake announced as he handed her her empty bottle. "Take your tag along and get him some water."

"Aw, man whore, maybe you do have a soul after all," she replied in a teasing voice as she gestured for Ruben to hand over his drink too. He downed it and placed it between her fingers before she walked away with Bob trailing behind her.

"You want to sit down for a while?" she urged as she patted the bar stool next to her. He nodded, still smiling dopily as he plopped down on the plush stool and swung his feet back and forth.

Penny gave Y/N a chuckle as she saw the usual uptight and meek look that usually adorned Bob's entire existence was not there. Now? Now he was acting like some love-sick puppy who was waiting to be given love and attention from the woman beside him, which was absolutely adorable.

"Water for him?"

"Please."

With Penny off to deal with the drinks, Y/N turned her attention back to Bob to brush some of his hair back in place. "Love it when you do that," he murmured to her, a small smile grazing his face.

"Do what?" She whispered back.

"Put your hands all on my hair. Makes me feel special, y'know, like I'm really important to ya." He reached for her hand and moved it to his cheek, brushing the pad of his thumb over her knuckles as he gazed longingly up at her. Her heart fluttered at the sight of him - his eyes were glazed over and unfocused, a soft smile tugging at his features as she started to stroke his skin with her thumb.

"You are important to me, cowboy."

Because of her words, Bob leaned into her touch and hummed happily at the contact. Y/N smiled as her fingers traced circles into his skin, a feeling of peace spreading throughout her chest at the sight of him in such a state of contentment.

Everything about the look that was upon his face was so sweet, so caring, so...perfect. It took everything in her power not to lean forward and kiss him right then and there, to reassure herself that he was real and real and not just an illusion that she conjured in her tipsy mind. But, she didn't - she didn't dare risk it. No matter how much she craved the closeness that was radiating off of him, she knew that it wouldn't be good for either of them.

"Water for the drunk lieutenant. Beer for the soon-to-be drunk lieutenants."

"Thanks, Penny," Y/N answered as she took the glasses from Penny and passed the water over to her companion as she paid.

Bob looked at the water with confusion."It's water-flavoured vodka. Just came in," Penny lied with a smile, having persuaded intoxicated customer after customer to hydrate for their benefit. Bob nodded his thanks and downed half of his drink at once.

After swallowing the liquid, he glanced at Y/N. "Want to try?" he asked, holding out the cup towards her.

"You keep it for yourself," she chuckled as she helped him up to his feet. As she took hold of his hands to steady him, he swayed on his feet and grinned. "Easy does it, Bambi."

Once he had somewhat stood upright, Y/N grabbed the beers and led him back to their friends, passing them around as Bob nursed his 'vodka' water. Hangman and Payback were busy playing pool so Y/N walked over and placed a beer in Jake's hand.

"About time, sugar tits."

"Ever the gentleman, Bagman."

Time ticked on and eventually, most of the other pilots reached a similar level of intoxication as Bob, who they allowed to drink alcohol again and completely depleted all the effort Y/N had made to help him out. Fanboy even yelled out, "Come on, Bobby! Gotta up your drinking game, man." And, Bob did just that.

Sometime during the evening, Bob had detached himself from Y/N's waist and left to use the bathroom. When he returned, she had seemingly left already. He noticed her absence immediately and found Phoenix to ask, "Where's - where's Y/N?"

"I don't know. Outside, maybe?"

Boom. That's where he was going to stumble towards. Without another thought, he made his way outside, weaving his way through the drunken revelry and towards the back door. Once he got outside, he spotted Y/N leaning against the wall, wrapping her arms around herself as she stared at the night sky.

"Cold, darlin?"

She jumped in surprise, turning quickly around to face him and sighed heavily in relief once she realised it was just him standing there.

"A little."

He approached her hesitantly, as if unsure of how she might react, then he said gently, "Here." He held out his arms for her and she gladly accepted his offer and stepped into his embrace, wrapping hers tightly around him as he enveloped her in warmth. "Better?" he whispered into her ear.

Of course, she nodded, snuggling her face into his neck and inhaling deeply. "You smell like someone spilt booze all over you."

"I did."

Both of them burst into a fit of giggles, unable to control themselves due to the amount of booze currently running through their bodies and the happiness and warmth of each other's presence. After a few seconds, though, they both calmed down and pulled away slightly to study one another's expressions.

They looked at each other for a moment longer until his eyes drifted downwards to her lips then up again to meet her gaze. A shiver ran through Y/N, but not necessarily because of the chilly air. She could feel her pulse begin to quicken when he inched ever closer to her face until her back hit the building behind her.

The sound of music inside was faint and the party raging on around them only amplified the silence, yet it hardly mattered because the world suddenly seemed to slow down and stop in its tracks as he brought his lips towards hers. The kiss began softly at first, hesitant and gentle, but gradually grew in fervour and heat until it was nothing but passionate.

One thing was certain; Bob sure had no trouble giving in to the urge he felt when it came to Y/N. His tongue grazed lightly against her bottom lip, begging her to open up to him, and she obliged without any hesitation. His free hand went straight to the nape of her neck, pulling her tighter against him while the other rested firmly on her hip.

Coyote, who only came outside for a breather, came across this scene by chance and stayed silent before snapping a picture to show the rest of the gang the hot new gossip.

Luckily, that ensured that he didn't see the moment that Bob instinctively shifted his knee between her thighs in such a suggestive manner, causing a moan that escaped through her parted lips.

"Fuck, sorry," he apologised and removed his knee in an inebriated hurry. Y/N didn't seem to care however as she simply continued to stare down at him through her lashes, a lazy grin spread across her face.

"Don't apologise, cowboy." She reached out with one hand to push a stray strand of hair out of his face as he looked up at her in surprise."You know, Nat and Mickey are here, so that leaves both of our rooms free for a while."

Bob's cheeks blushed red. "Uh - yeah," he trailed, eyes wandering from her eyes to her lips and back again. "Yeah, that's true."

"Why don't we take advantage of that then?"

Her words sent his brain into overdrive, as he watched her smirk in anticipation of his response. In less than five seconds, Bob's face lit up into a brilliant beam as he lunged forward to capture her lips in a deep and desperate kiss, making sure he placed his hand behind her head so she wouldn't smack into the brick wall behind her. It was an answer in itself, and a very obvious one at that.

"We need to stop for two minutes for me to get an uber."

"Don't want to stop now..." He mumbled against her lips, tightening his grip around her hip as he deepened the kiss, trying to convince her that to not break apart yet.

However, Y/N was not having any of it and slowly started to pull away, halting the kiss with a small smirk plastered on her lips. Bob pouted adorably at her for that little interruption and she let out a laugh at his expression.

"Two minutes."

With haste, she retrieved her phone from her back pocket and got them a ride back to their bunks. Bob tended to be a patient man, yet he couldn't wait two minutes and tried to distract her by kissing her neck, which in turn caused her to giggle with a gasp at his attention. And she had to tease "Impatient, aren't you?"

"Only for you," he muttered into her skin, his voice filled with a deep desire for her. He felt her shiver beneath his lips and smiled smugly to himself knowing that his words had elicited such an intense reaction from her. He pressed his lips harder against the spot, feeling the goosebumps rise on her shoulders under his mouth as he sucked a light bruise there. "I've been wanting to do that since I met you."

His words were breathy and soft, almost too quiet for her to hear them, but Y/N heard every single word perfectly. Her heart hammered hard in her chest as she tried to come up with something witty or clever to say in reply to him. All she managed to muster up was a husky, "...Good."

Eventually, the car came and they disentangled themselves to get in. The ride home was short and relatively uneventful, except for Bob's continuous grip on Y/N's thigh throughout the entire drive. The couple was soon inside Y/N's room - only because it was the closest - and she shut the door behind her.

Y/N swiftly was pulled against Bob's body, his lips capturing her own for yet another long, lingering, searing kiss that made her knees weaken at the feeling. His hands made their way under her top and caressed her bare skin lovingly as his lips moved against hers with such hunger and desire, he wasn't able to help the groan that erupted from his throat.

One of her hands slid down the front of his trousers and found his belt, undoing it swiftly and tugging his pants to the ground. Bob followed suit, removing Y/N's shirt from her body and tossing it aside before sliding his hands underneath her jeans to squeeze her ass lightly. He leaned down, burying his face in between her breasts, causing another moan to emerge from her as the feel of his warm lips on her sensitive skin set fire to the very core of her being.

"Bob..", she gasped as his teeth sunk in lightly, causing her to arch her back and throw her head back. "Let me go find a condom. You better have taken your shirt off by the time I get back."

Sleepily, he yawned, "Will do," and watched with sleepy eyes as she hurried to find protection.

It took her several moments, but once she returned from the en suite with a condom in hand, she found that he'd taken his glasses, flopped on her bed and had fallen asleep. She stared at him for what felt like forever, taking in everything about him: the slight stubble, the messy curls, the sleepy, content smile plastered across his face, and the muscular back that he hid so often.

There was something so enchanting, so mesmerising, in how natural he looked with the moonlight through the window illuminating every inch of his handsome face. She wanted so badly to wake him up, to kiss him senseless again and again, but after seeing him in this state, she couldn't. He was too cute like this.

Instead, she climbed into the bed and covered them both in the duvet, careful not to nudge him and left a gap between them so he was not disturbed, before falling asleep herself.

By the time Phoenix had gotten back to the room she shared with Y/N, the pair had inched closer and Bob had slung his arm around Y/N's waist possessively with the tip of his nose pressing into the nape of her neck.

Oh, Nat had to take a photo. She had to. How else was she going to update the group chat?

A few hours later, Bob woke up abruptly upon realising someone was in the same bed as him. Holy fuck! He immediately shot his head upwards and noticed that the person beside him was Y/N, his movements waking her up from her peaceful slumber. Y/N rubbed her bleary eyes sleepily and blinked a few times, before smiling at him when he sat upright.

"Morning," she greeted, her voice still hoarse from her sleepiness. She could tell just by looking at him that his memory of the night before was a little fuzzy.

"Did we? Did we you know?" he asked in a whisper, slightly blushing from embarrassment as he lowered his head shyly and scratched his cheek.

Reaching towards her bedside table, Y/N showed him the unopened condom. "You fell asleep."

"Oh, thank the lord." He let out a sigh of relief before noticing how her face fell and hurried to clarify, "No! Not like that. I meant it... like, I want to be sober when that happens. With you." Bob paused for a moment. "Not that I'm complaining about waking up next to you, of course, I like that. Just, uhm, it would be nice to remember it."

He looked away bashfully and cleared his throat, avoiding eye contact. Y/N chuckled before reaching out and grabbing his face, turning him back to face her. "Hey, hey," she said softly before giving him a quick peck on the cheek. "I think I'd like that too." She leaned over and began to place kisses all along his jawline until she came to a stop right beside his lips.

After pausing for a moment, she leaned forward slightly and planted a gentle kiss against his lips, one of her fingers pushing his hair out of his face. He closed his eyes and tilted his head to deepen the kiss, wrapping his arms around her tightly.

"I love the fact that you two are together now, but can you shut the fuck up? I don't want to leave my bed until tomorrow afternoon," Phoenix grumbled from where she lay.

The two broke apart and laughed sheepishly at each other's antics, as if embarrassed that they had forgotten she was even there in the first place. "More sleep sounds good to me," Bob chuckled and rested back down on the pillows as he snuggled closer to Y/N, pulling her against his chest. With one final kiss to the crown of her head, both lieutenants settled down to sleep off their hangovers.

There was no way either of them would let go any time soon. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not even tomorrow's tomorrow.

#bob floyd x female reader #bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd #bob floyd #top gun maverick #Youtube

255 notes · View notes