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xwingsandohs · 1 year

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‘Haunted Beauty’ | Spencer Reid

prompt: ‘Person A likes to sketch, and B catches them sketching, and asks what they are drawing. Person A had been drawing B, so they stutter out an excuse while slamming their sketchbook closed.’

word count: 2.3k

content warnings?: none. fluff

a/n: this is the beginning of a renaissance where i come back to tumblr. bare with me while i reformat stuff and checkout my recent posts if ya can

When you reach eleven days without being called out to the field for a case, there’s a lull in the BAU that leaves everyone bored and irritable.

Morgan sits at his corner desk twiddling his pen, spinning on his chair and occasionally ripping up small pieces of paper to aim at someone’s (usually Reid’s) head. His aim is terrible, only because the small, rolled-up balls weigh so little, so you can watch with suppressed giggles until Reid finally notices his game. A hit to the head leads to an irritated “Hey!” - While you and Morgan laugh openly.

Morgan walks over to ruffle the messy hair of your colleague and picks up the small mess he’s left on the floor around him- Spencer shuts the small notebook he’d been working in at the disruption.

You spin around on your chair to see Emily not-so-subtly looking for cheap flights on her laptop- one of her favourite ways to guarantee her time-off is approved is by booking the trip before she even puts in the request. There’s no need for the efforts really, Hotch has never denied a PTO request since your jobs are so demanding, though it doesn’t hurt to be sure.

JJ comes up behind Emily waving an empty mug, asking if she wants another coffee too. She nods, groans into a “God, yes please.” - before JJ begins to ask about her vacation plans and where she hopes to go, pointing at her computer.

Coffee sounds like a fantastic idea, so you stand from your chair and do a lazy spin towards Morgan - “Yes please, mama.” - and taking the empty cup from Spencer’s extended hand too before he even gets the chance to ask. You smile at him warmly- and before you even get a chance to lean over and see what he’s been working on, he’s slammed his notebook shut again and said “Actually, I could do with a break too, I’ll join you.”

You nod and shrug acceptingly, and Spencer jogs across to JJ when she shouts to make enough for everyone, and grabs the two mugs from her hand as well. “Thanks, Spence.”

It takes you only a minute to prep the coffee, replacing the filter and dumping in some grounds and Spencer has swooped in to fill up the water jug before you get the chance. You thank him, and watch as he turns to the sink in the small kitchenette, flicks the tap on and watches as the water fills its container.

He’s wearing a comfortable-looking navy cardigan, it’s well-fitting and you’re acutely aware of how he’s allowed his own sense of style to come through in his working wardrobe over his years in the BAU. You allow yourself an indulgent look at your co-worker while his back is to you, grinning slightly as you enjoy the view.

“How’s the case files?” He asks as he finishes loading the machine and presses the button to let the coffee drip. His hands glide in their motions after so long of using the machine most days.

“I finished all my consults, now it’s just an endless pile of cold cases to keep me busy.” You drag out a few vowels as you speak, teetering close to yawning in exasperation but the easy nights at home have kept you well-rested.

“Me too.” He shrugs, gently pushing the tub of sugar closer to the mugs to use when the coffee has finished.

“What are you making notes on?” You ask, and lean your body comfortably against the countertop.

“Notes?” He scrunches his face.

“You’ve been scribbling in your notebook for the past half hour.” “Oh!”

Realisation washes over his face, and you wonder if there’s a reason for his unusually cloudy brain. You laugh just once and raise an eyebrow in confusion at him.

“Nothing in particular, just some musings to keep me busy.” He shrugs.

There’s an old metal tin sitting on the side, some cookies that an agent had made and brought in for everyone to take from. You reach across and open it, looking closely for the biggest one before taking it. You snap it in half and present the biggest piece to the man beside you.

“Thanks.” He utters, before taking an indulgent bite.

“What kind of musings are keeping Dr Reid busy on this fine Thursday afternoon?” You ask with a glint in your eye.

He shrugs, and begins to mumble through his cookie-filled mouth before pausing to actually swallow before he speaks. His action makes you giggle. “I was asked if I’d like to do a guest lecture on profiling for the FBI Academy and I’m not really sure if I want to do it.”

“Why not?” You ask sincerely.

“I think a lot of my stories about the job might change their mind about working here.” He smiles, you both laugh, and then he shakes his head. He’s not wrong. “No, I’m kidding. I’m just not sure if I’m ready for doing something like that alone, I think there’s a lot of pressure for lecturers to be engaging and informative, and I tend to go off on a tangent.”

“I love your tangents.” You reply honestly and with a smile, which he returns appreciatively, and a little rosy in the cheeks. “But I know what you mean, I’m a profiler for a living but I don’t think I could get on a stage and give a good lecture on it.”

“I, um,” He smiles wistfully and nods his head as he speaks, something he frequently does. “I’d love to run my own classes at the Academy or maybe Georgetown one day, but I’m not ready for that kind of responsibility yet.”

He’d be a fantastic professor, you know this. And you’re sure he’d have a lecture full of hopeful psychology fanatics just like you both once were. “Maybe a guest lecture is a good trial run, even if it’s a little out of your comfort zone.”

“Yeah.” He smiles, then begins to pour out the coffees. Each mug is almost identical- white or navy with some variation of the FBI logo on, but somehow he knows who’s is who’s, and leaves enough room for cream in cups that need it. “Which case would you choose?”

“For a guest lecture?” He nods. “Um…”

It’s difficult, while every case is important you know that a balance needs to be found in a case chosen for an Academy lecture- it can’t be too standard, it wouldn’t show off why your jobs are so important or might even struggle to keep the audience interested. But you can’t choose one of your worst cases either, some of them can be particularly heavy even for you all to think back on.

“Maybe the zodiac imitator?” You suggest with a shrug. “You can go through how you deduced it wasn’t the real zodiac, looking for messages in online articles, Garcia going through MENSA records, you could even talk about navigating all the reporters and public attention.”

“Y’know, I was thinking about that one.” He agrees and you tap his arm playfully. “The trainees always enjoy the imitator cases.”

“As much as you can enjoy this kinda thing, right?” You laugh humorlessly. Spencer knows everyone’s coffee preference off by heart, you know that, but it still makes you feel a little hot when he perfects your drink and holds it out to you.

“Maybe ‘interested in’ would be a better way to put it.” He corrects himself with a similar chuckle. You nod in agreement.

You both take a small moment to enjoy a sip of your drinks before taking the rest of the mugs to the members of your team- Morgan grins at Reid as he passes his mug, and JJ and Emily thank you when you bring their drinks too.

“What do you think,” JJ calls you by name. “Where would you go for a beach holiday?”

“Beach?” You say and laugh lightly. “Wherever Morgan’s not going.”

They both grin and laugh, and you hear Emily begin to say “Y’know I’ve seen those pictures of Morgan’s Jamaican resort…”

You head back to your own desk, you have Reid right in front of you and Morgan at a table across from you both, it makes for easy conversation and sharing of the sweet treats you bring in when you try to hide them from the rest of the team- more for you that way. Every so often you stop on your way to work and fill up a pick ‘n’ mix, you know by now that Spencer’s favourites are the chocolate jazzles and Morgan loves anything sour.

Emily shouts for Morgan to help her find a holiday destination, so he shakes his head playfully and taps you on the shoulder as he walks past you.

The coffee is perfect as you sip it, just slightly hot, not too sweet and not too strong. You cradle it between two hands as you step past your desk and stop in front of Spencer’s, leaning gently against the table. He looks up at you, mid sip, and raises his eyebrows to ask what you need from him.

“Can I see what you’ve been writing?” You ask innocently, pointing at the small brown book that sits central on his desk. A pen sticks out of the top of it to hold the page he was using, and he seems unusually shocked by your question.

You’re profilers, though Spencer is a surprisingly good liar, you have a feeling he wasn’t pondering a guest lecture for the Academy.

“There’s nothing important in there.” He shakes his head and instinctively goes to pull it out of reach.

“C’mon, Reid!” You giggle, putting your coffee cup down in a space on his desk. “I just wanna know what’s been keeping you occupied. You’ve been scribbling in it all afternoon, so secretively too.”

“I-I’m not-” He pauses, stuttering and puts his own mug down and out of reach before pulling the pen from between the pages of his notebook. He leaves the brown pad where it is. “being secretive, why do you want to see?”

“I’m just curious.” You say, bowing your head in apology. “I didn’t mean to pry, I’ll just leave you to it.”

“N-no, wait,” He stops you, seeing your small change in demeanour and immediately washing with guilt. Your body language changes just slightly, not quite closed off but a little less open and maybe a smidge of your own guilt for possibly upsetting him. He’s not upset, and he certainly does want you to be. “I’m sorry. I-I’m just, um,”

You turn back to him, offering another apologetic look. It’s not necessary, and he holds the notebook tightly in his hand, looking at it while he thinks. “Would you like to see?”

“Only if you want me to.”

“Why not?” He hums, gently passing the small brown book to you. You take it, just as gently, curling a finger into the gap created by the pen to hold the open page.

The brown book is worn on the edges, creased from opening so many times and his recent page is over half way through. You’ve seen him scribble in it frequently, and you’ve seen the way he slips it into his satchel at the end of the day- it’s important to him, you know that.

You open the page and it’s a drawing, a sketch in black biro. You’ve seen some of Reid’s drawings before- wavy lines, shrunken eyes and wiry hair, it’s his own unique style of illustration and you love his hidden passion for it. His drawings have been of imaginary characters, animals, even halloween decorations; they have a haunted aspect to them and you admire his talent for capturing the way he sees the world. This one is adorned with small wavy lines bouncing off the central figure.

“It’s-” This one you recognise, an unhidden smile and the shape of the hair. “-me. You drew me?”

“Um… yeah.” He smiles, but it doesn’t hide his nerves as he shifts in his chair while you look over the lines he’s made.

It’s today, you know the top you’re wearing today and one wiggly line for the chair you’ve been perched on. Your hair is styled as it is today, but you haven’t smiled so brightly today, you haven’t had the reason. That part, you realise, is from his memory. You like that he thinks of you as a happy person- the lines show that too, they add a bright, liveliness to the illustration of you.

There’s small flowers on the page adjacent- lavender, daisies, chrysanthemums, with what you assume is the scientific name underneath. They dot across the page like a printed pattern, but with the handwriting you know of Spencer all around. Underneath the drawing of you, though you’re not sure if it’s meant to describe both pages, it says “Beautiful”.

“Wow, Spence- I mean- Spencer,” You stutter over your words, grinning and feeling flushed at the thought of him spending his afternoon drawing you so dearly. “It’s amazing, you’re really good at art, y’know.”

“Thanks.” He replies sweetly, face unabashedly pink and smiling from ear to ear. “It’s um, really tempting to draw you when you’re sitting right across from me. I wanted to try and capture your smile but my drawings have given you more of a… haunting beauty.”

You don’t know what to say, still smiling and stuttering over nothing at all as you look over to him, to the drawing, then him again. His pride in his work makes his face light up in a way you rarely see on the job. “A-and Spence is fine, if you like.”

“Thanks for letting me see, Spence.” You say, dancing lightly around the last word, an affectionate nickname you know is only reserved for the special few. It feels good to be special to him. “I’ve never been very good at drawing.”

“I don’t think skill matters when you’re passionate about what you’re trying to recreate on the page.” He says with a simple smile, then bites down on his bottom lip to stop it from being too bright.

“You think so?” “Yeah.”

—

a/n: and just for funsies…

#writing #catching the other doing something cute prompts #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid prompts

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kitten4sannie · 2 years

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【ＨｉｄｅａｎｄＳｅｅｋ】

Boyfriend! Yunho x Fem! Reader

Genre: smut

Summary: You and Yunho play your favorite game together.

W.C: 5.2k

Warnings: *possibly triggering content*,established relationship, role playing, hard/soft? dom! Yunho, sub! reader, cnc, pet names, name calling, degradation, size kink, filthy dialogue, manhandling, rope play, fingering, biting, pain kink, blood play, forced orgasm, hair pulling, praise, oral (giving), deep throating, overstimulation, brief use of the color system, rough (unprotected) sex, brief use of a gag

Author's Note: Hope you all are enjoying the spooky season 🖤 I’m literally never going to recover from the picture of Yunho I used, like are we seeing him??? Mark me down as scared and horny dhskshdj. Also, I’ll be posting the teaser for my last spooky fic on the 23rd :) Enjoy 🖤

Song Recs: Running Up That Hill by Placebo, Bound by Key, and Angel by Massive Attack

Masterlist

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You came home after a long day at work, unlocking the front door and slowly pushing it open with your palm, letting out a sigh. You froze for a second, noticing that every light was off inside the house, despite knowing that your boyfriend was home already. “Oh boy…” you murmured to yourself, eyes slowly adapting to the surrounding darkness.

After kicking off your heels near the door, you walked up to the kitchen table, noticing there was a note that Yunho must have left for you. You brought it up to your face and held your phone up near it, using the light from the screen to read what he had scribbled on it.

You have two minutes to hide :) Then I’m gonna come find you ♡

A small, sheepish smile formed on your face, as you tossed the note back down onto the table, a noticeable knot forming tightly inside your stomach. It was finally the night you had been looking forward to all month; the night where you and Yunho would play a little game of hide and seek, only if he caught you, he was allowed to do whatever he felt like doing to you.

To add to the excitement, Yunho never told you when he wanted to play; he only made it obvious by turning all the lights off in the house, like he had done just minutes ago. This resulted in you always coming home with butterflies in your stomach, eager to experience the game again, but never knowing when he’d initiate it.

You set your work bag down onto the kitchen table, using two fingers to pull your hair free from the hair tie you had on. Sighing gently, you took a few extra seconds to prepare yourself mentally for what was awaiting you.

Once you were in an appropriate headspace, you began to walk down the hallway, the tips of your fingers feeling tingly. Taking in a deep breath, you quietly made your way up the stairs, only stopping when you made it to the banister. You looked down at your phone, realizing a minute had already gone by.

“Shit…” you whispered to yourself, eyes darting back and forth between the left and right side of the hallway, wondering which way you should go. Hearing what sounded like the garage door opening and closing, you quickly scampered down the left side and into your shared bedroom, which was located at the very end of the hall.

“Okay, where to hide?” You looked at the bathroom door, shaking your head almost immediately. The bathroom was too confined; you would be instantly cornered if you hid there. Looking towards your bed, you briefly wondered if hiding under it was the way to go. No, it’d take too long to maneuver yourself out from under there, once he found you.

Your breath got caught inside your throat when you started hearing a creaking sound coming from the staircase down the hall, sending your brain into full-blown panic mode. Your nervous gaze settled on your closet, your legs moving in its direction, before you had even fully made up your mind. Quietly sliding the right side of the closet open, you slipped inside, opting to hide in the far left corner, once you had shut the closet behind you. You moved some boxes in front of you and pushed yourself up against the cool wall, your heart beating wildly inside your chest.

Sure, you were frightened, but not truly; you weren’t in any real danger. It was just a simulated version of it, but sometimes Yunho was very capable of making you question the situation. You loved this, however, and he did as well; it allowed you to bring some excitement into your otherwise mundane lives.

“Is my angel hiding somewhere over here?” you heard Yunho say in a low, calculated voice, your fingers unconsciously gripping the carpet below you. The volume of his voice was somewhat muffled, so you assumed that he was still somewhere in the hall.

Yunho suddenly kicked the office door open, the impact of his foot hitting the door making you jump. He scanned the room thoroughly with his dark eyes, sighing softly when he didn’t see you. “Not here…” he murmured, sounding disappointed. He eventually found his way into your shared bathroom that was connected to your bedroom, standing there silently for a minute.

Sensing his presence inside the room, you tried to make your body appear as small as possible, bringing your knees up to your chest and holding your legs securely in place. You could hear your boyfriend take in a deep breath, then slowly let it out, a small chuckle escaping his lips.

“I bet your pussy is already soaking wet for me, angel,” he exhaled, leaning one hand on the bathroom door frame he was standing near, peering inside to see if you were dumb enough to hide in there. “I know how much you love playing hide and seek with me.”

You let out a barely audible sigh, before quietly slamming a hand against your mouth to prevent yourself from making any more pleased noises in response to his words. You sat there for a moment, waiting to see if Yunho had heard you. Your body eventually relaxed, when you didn’t hear him respond verbally or physically. You internally gave yourself praise, proud of yourself for being able to mask the sounds that so desperately wanted to escape your mouth. However, this mini celebration of yours didn’t last very long.

You almost jumped out of your skin when the right side of the closet came flying open, Yunho's large frame coming into view. He placed one of his hands on the edge of the wall and the other on the opened closet door, slowly leaning his body into the space you were in, quietly admiring your frightened, doe-like eyes. “Found you,” he said, in an almost melodic tone, giving you an ominous smile.

You stayed completely still initially, feeling your heart stop beating for a split-second. He was almost too good at appearing like he was a psychopath, but you knew that he was just very enthusiastic when it came to roleplaying. Yunho always made sure to stay in character during these interactions and you loved it; you couldn’t have asked for a better partner.

“D-don’t even think about touching me,” you murmured in a small voice, maintaining eye contact with him, as your fingers gingerly slid in between the left side closet door and the door frame. Your eyes narrowed with feigned anger, your lips forming a small scowl. “I’m serious, Yunho!”

A dark chuckle erupted from Yunho’s throat, his fingers wrapping around the jute rope that he was holding, his hands closing into fists around the rough material. He then spread his hands apart, causing the rope to be stretched.

This action alone sent heat straight to your core, your legs involuntarily pressing against one another. You gritted your teeth, trying not to let him see how truly excited you were about the situation. “I’m not joking! Fuck. Off.”

Another pleased laugh escaped past Yunho’s lips, this one being more light and airy, almost like he had just been told a joke. He leaned his shoulder against the doorframe and sighed, his joyous expression suddenly melting away and being replaced with an eerily neutral one.

“It’s so amusing to me that you believe you have any sort of authority in this situation, angel. You’re simply my prey, my play thing, my little toy, that I'll use, abuse, and fill up with my cum,” he stated, his eyes devoid of any compassion, and instead filled with fervid lust.

You swallowed harshly, already feeling your wetness soak through your thin panties. You remained quiet, unable to come up with a response, aside from just looking up at him with wide eyes. For what seemed like forever, the two of you just stared back at one another, waiting for either one of you to make some sort of move.

“Come here, angel,” was all that Yunho said, as he suddenly pushed his way into the closet, reaching for your leg to grab it.

You quickly opened your side of the closet, scrambling out of it and out onto the floor of your bedroom. Breathing heavily, from the adrenaline already coursing through your veins, you jumped up onto your feet and started sprinting down the second-story hallway. You heard a satisfied laugh echo from the bedroom, your successful escape plan clearly bringing Yunho some kind of fulfillment.

Just as you looked past your shoulder to catch sight of Yunho’s tall figure appearing outside of the bedroom door, you suddenly felt your foot sliding across the slick wood flooring you were running on, causing you to lose your footing. “Shit!” you gasped, unable to regain your balance and, in turn, instantly falling on your ass.

The loud, rapidly increasing footsteps heading in your direction threatened to stop your heart permanently. You let out a small cry of fear, reaching up to grab the edge of the banister and using your momentum to propel yourself upwards. You just narrowly escaped your boyfriend’s grasp by ducking and sending yourself down the stairs at a dangerous speed, almost missing a step on the way down.

The only sounds you could hear coming from behind you were a couple quiet giggles, as well as the occasional call of your nickname. You ignored his attempts at freaking you out further, solely focusing on getting to the front door. If you did so, that would mean you had finally won the game for the first time. Even though the two of you had played countless times, you could never seem to win, due to how much faster and stronger Yunho was than you. Not to mention, how much larger. Something about him being 6’1 and running towards you at a rapid speed with a smile plastered on his face always sent fear and arousal straight into you, without fail.

“Angelllll, stop running from me! Let me play with you!” he shouted after you, fast-walking down the first five steps of the staircase, before easily jumping past the last five, his feet landing on the wood floor with a thud.

You let out an involuntary scream, running towards the front door, as fast as your legs could carry you. Just as your hand reached out for the door handle, you felt all the air inside your lungs suddenly disappear. Your boyfriend’s sturdy body had made a rough impact with your significantly more delicate one, his large hands grabbing the back of your shoulders and shoving you chest-first into the front door, your head hitting the door, causing a dizzying sensation to overcome your senses.

“Caught you…” he exhaled, near the side of your upper jaw, tongue flicking out of his mouth to drag up the shell of your ear, causing you to shiver. “Now, it’s finally time for the fun part.”

Once Yunho had stripped your top half, he wasted no time to tie you up, so that your arms were held taut behind your back. He also made sure that the rope was wrapped securely both above and underneath your breasts, as well as in between. He was quite experienced with this sort of thing, so he knew how tight he wanted certain sections of the rope to be, as well as how loose other areas should remain, so that it didn’t cut off your circulation and make your body go numb.

“Mmm, my beautiful angel, all tied up just for me…” he sighed, running a finger down the knotted sections of the rope, admiring his work. It was an art, in itself. He felt the same way about your body; he loved observing your skin, as it slowly grew more visibly irritated and tender over time, the way your breasts would become swollen and sensitive the longer you were tied up, but his favorite thing was how you had to hide your rope burns with long-sleeved shirts, before you went to work the next morning. Everything about this dynamic that you shared together never failed to turn him on immensely.

“P-please let me go…” you murmured, turning your head, so that you could look up at him with pleading eyes. You made a small squeaking sound when Yunho responded by grabbing the back of your head and pressing it against the cold wood of the door, his free hand finding its way down to your work skirt and pulling it down in one swift motion.

“I’ll let you go when I’m done using you,” he murmured against your ear, letting go of your head and hooking his fingers into the material of your pantyhose around your ass and crotch area, before tearing them open, without a second thought. He groaned at the sight of your soaked panties, instantly grabbing the thin material and ripping it off of you as well, tossing them onto the nearby couch.

You moaned in response, feeling a significant amount of wetness begin to leak out of you and down your inner thighs. Biting your lip, you desperately squeezed your legs together to prevent more from coming out.

“P-please, stop! I’m begging you!”

Yunho earned another moan from you when he kicked the insides of your ankles, forcing your legs to spread open for him. “You thought you could hide your wet little cunt from me? You’re so precious, angel,” he chuckled lightly, petting your hair in an oddly gentle fashion.

You were about to answer with something bratty when you felt your breath get caught inside your throat, due to feeling the overwhelming sensation of Yunho’s long fingers pushing deep into your pussy. You squirmed around helplessly, as he began pumping them in and out of you, at an alarming pace. “Oh my fucking god!” you cried out, unable to hold back the constant need to whine and whimper. “Yunho…ple-aseee…!”

“Please, what?” he questioned, adding a third digit inside you, chuckling when you only answered with another moan. “My poor little angel…you’re so much of a cock-hungry little whore that you’ve already lost your ability to form basic sentences…” He grabbed one of your hips roughly with one hand, forcing you to arch your back to a certain extent, allowing his fingers to reach your g-spot with ease.

“A-aah! Fuck!” you cried out, the muscles in your upper legs tightening in response to the sudden increase of pleasure you felt, your eyelids fluttering shut.

“That’s it…That’s the spot, huh? You like it right there, baby?”

Yunho pounded his fingers into you, his body pressing heavily against yours. He whispered more obscenities directly into your ear, pulling it roughly with his teeth afterward, earning a small whine from your parted lips.

“That’s my good girl…”

When he tilted your head in his direction, so that he could see how euphoric your expression was and how beautiful you looked in general, he was suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to bite you. He did so, without any hesitation, sinking his teeth into the side of your neck.

“F-uuck!” you choked out, feeling your blood begin to trickle down your neck. You cried out again when he bit into your shoulder this time, even harder than before. “Yunho! Oh my god, Yunho!” Your eyes rolled back into your head, the pain almost too overwhelming, but still just as pleasurable as it was being finger-fucked by him.

“Fuuuck, I love hearing you cry out my name like that, baby…It makes me want to bite you again and again…”

Once Yunho felt your pussy tighten significantly around his fingers, he grunted, shoving them as deep as he could and sliding them almost all the way out, before repeating the cycle. “Yeah, that’s it…”

This almost drove you to the brink of insanity; your head was pounding from the intense stinging sensation of your wounds, as well as from the dizzying amount of pleasure you were overcome with. “Yun…ho…” you exhaled, a bit of drool escaping your mouth.

“Are you gonna cum, angel? Hmm? Are you gonna cum just from being bitten? Or from the way I’m fucking you with just my fingers?”

“B-both,” you whimpered, looking back at him through your peripheral vision. Feeling yourself getting closer and closer to your high, you almost didn’t realize when Yunho had sunk his teeth into the other side of your neck, feeling him bite down hard enough, so that you felt a lightning bolt of pain inside your head.

“Fuck!“ you yelled, the combination of his rapidly moving fingers and teeth slicing into your flesh proving to be too lethal, immediately bringing you to orgasm.

Yunho pulled his fingers out of your pulsing hole and brought them around your shoulder up to your trembling lips, sliding them into your mouth.

“Suck them clean, angel.”

You closed your eyes, your mouth closing around his fingers and sucking on them just as he asked, only to gasp on them, when you felt Yunho’s tongue lapping at the remaining blood left on your neck and shoulder where he had bitten you.

“Mmmn…” he mumbled, pulling away from your neck and licking his lips, just as he pulled his fingers out of your mouth. He grabbed you by the hair and yanked your body back into his, caressing the side of your jaw lightly. Without another word, he slammed his lips against yours and forced his tongue into your mouth, making you taste an overwhelming amount of iron.

You struggled against him, trying to do your best to free your body from its restraints, but failing miserably, not that you really wanted to escape. You just loved playing the part.

“Mm..! Mm-mmm!” you reacted, feeling Yunho’s large hands grope your body up to your secured breasts, squeezing them as roughly as he could, prior to pinching and pulling at your sensitive nipples.

He chuckled into your mouth, pleased with how you were responding, using the tip of his fingers to roll around your nipples, just before flicking them as hard as he could a few times in a row.

“Y-Yunho…” you murmured softly, just as he broke the kiss and pulled away. You could barely function at this point and he wasn’t even close to being done with you. It frightened you, but not nearly as much as it turned you on.

“Angel.” Your boyfriend ran a finger down your back and along one of your bound forearms, informing you, “I think it’s time for you to show me what that pretty little mouth of yours is capable of.”

Within a few moments, Yunho had placed you down on the leather sofa, so that you were laying on your back with your head hanging off the edge of the elongated arm rest, a large pillow being positioned underneath your body to prevent you from straining any muscles.

You studied Yunho from below, watching as he hastily pulled his sweatpants down, revealing his large, throbbing cock. “Holy fuck…” you mumbled to yourself, as a few drops of pre-cum fell from the tip of his erection, landing on your cheek and slowly rolling down it.

Yunho’s lips curled into a gratified smirk, always loving when you fed his ego. “You act like you don’t see my cock every day, angel. Or do you just love it that much? I bet you daydream about it all day at work, don’t you?” He reached down to gather up the pre-cum with his thumb and rubbed it all over your lips, letting out a sigh.

“Of course I do…You know how much I love worshiping your cock, Yuyu,” you purred, feeling pleased when you saw how his smirk turned into a lewd smile, very aware of how much he loved it when you called him by his nickname.

“Then show me how much you love it, angel,” Yunho requested, holding his dick near your mouth, immediately drawing in a sudden breath, when he felt your tongue teasingly swipe over the slit.

“Then hurry up and shove your cock down my throat, Yuyu,” you responded in an impatient tone, prior to opening your mouth as wide as you possibly could.

Yunho’s dark irises instantly dilated upon hearing your bold words, prompting him to push most of his length into your mouth, the tip of his dick sliding past the entrance of your throat. “Angelllll, you look so pretty with my cock in your mouth,” he praised, his long fingers holding your neck from either side, making sure to apply some pressure, but not enough to hurt you. “So, so pretty.”

“M-mmmnn…” you moaned around him, carefully drawing in air through your nose and slowly relaxing your throat, so that you could take him, without any issues.

Yunho gazed down at you, waiting for you to adjust to his large size. Once you had done so, he began pumping himself in and out of your mouth, groaning deeply when he felt your moans vibrating around his member.

“Fffffuck, I can never-unhh-get tired of this. I love fucking your tight little throat, angel…” he exhaled somewhat shakily, unconsciously speeding up his movements, instinctively wanting to increase the amount of pleasure he was feeling as soon as possible.

Your eyes were beginning to roll back behind your closing eyelids, the sensation of being throat-fucked in such a lewd position proving to be too pleasurable for you to keep a proper grasp over your facial expressions. Your tingly arms and hands twitched beneath your back, desperately wanting to escape, so that you could touch yourself, in order to ease the throbbing you felt between your legs.

Yunho let out a long groan, noticing the small puddle of arousal soaking into the couch near where your legs were spread open, commenting, “Something tells me that you’re loving this just as much as I am, angel…You just love being a good little cocksleeve for me, huh?” He suddenly looked down towards your neck, instantly distracted. “Fuck, would you look at that…” he breathed, admiring the way his cock looked moving in and out of your throat, his eyes zoning in on the outline of it.

You squeezed your legs together, the aching you felt inside your core being almost unbearable at this point, causing you to groan a bit around his cock, knowing you couldn’t do a single thing about it.

“What’s wrong, angel? Do you want me to touch you? Is that it? Cumming once wasn’t enough for you?” he questioned in a low voice, leaning forward onto the couch a bit, so that he could shove himself further into your throat and at a faster rate, without requiring as much hip movement as it previously did. “What a needy little slut you are…”

“Mmm-hmm…!” you moaned, wondering if Yunho could even understand you over the constant squelching sounds of his cock going into your throat over and over again.

“Mm, since you're being such a good girl for me, I’ll help you out, okay?” Yunho used his core strength to lean down over you a bit further, reaching his hand down to your already-soaked pussy, using his middle and ring finger to rub rapidly against your swollen clit.

“Mmmmn!” Your back arched almost instantly, so fast and so abrupt, that it hurt your spine. Feeling his fingers push down harder against your clit and move in a side-to-side motion, you knew that your orgasm was already imminent, as was Yunho’s, considering the way his cock was throbbing inside your throat.

“Mmm, look at you…that feels good, doesn’t it, baby?” Yunho sighed, gripping the side of the couch with one free hand, shoving his cock relentlessly into your throat and admiring the way your spit was consistently dripping from your lips and slowly sliding up your face, then into your already-damp hair. “Fucking take it…take this cock…”

You couldn’t handle it anymore; Yunho’s filthy mouth and actions had finally taken their toll on you, causing you to reach your second orgasm. “Mmmfff…!” You bucked your hips up against Yunho’s hand, as cum spilled out of your hole and onto the couch below you.

“Good girl…I want to see that again,” Yunho observed, placing his fingers back down onto your pulsing clit and rubbing it rapidly once more, sending shockwaves of pleasure throughout your body.

You let out a consistent flow of muffled moans, your lower half twitching periodically, due to Yunho’s unfaltering hand movements. Within a few moments, you came again, this time harder than before, causing the edges of your vision to blur temporarily.

“My pretty little angel…I bet that felt nice, didn’t it? You know what else will feel nice?” Yunho started, both hands going back to your neck and holding it securely, as he rammed his cock down your throat at a brutal pace. “My cum shooting down your slutty-aah-little-unh-throat! Don’t you want it, angel? Don’t you want my cum?”

You couldn’t even respond at this point; how could you? Your mouth was occupied and your body was bound. The only thing you could do was moan weakly a few times around Yunho’s cock, knowing he probably couldn’t even hear you over the sound of his groans and the sinful sounds coming from your throat.

“Oh, godddd, I’m gonna fucking cum…” Yunho announced in a strangled voice, suddenly stopping his movements and holding you in place, just in time for hot ropes of cum to pour down your throat, forcing you to swallow it, so that you didn’t choke. “Mmhmm…drink it all, baby…Show me how much you love this cock…”

You did just as he asked of you, drinking down his slightly bitter release in gulps, until there was no more left. Your body rested against the pillow you were laying on, feeling drained of your energy, but still having the motivation to continue your roleplay.

Yunho pulled out of your mouth and wiped the tip of his cock on your swollen lips, sighing softly. “What color are you, angel?” he questioned, running his fingers through your hair.

“Green,” you replied confidently, looking up at your boyfriend with a smile, just before he grabbed you by the shoulders and laid you down the other way, so that you were on your stomach with your head down and your ass up in the air.

“That’s what I like to hear,” Yunho responded, his large hands grabbing hold of your hips from both sides, squeezing them roughly. “You ready for this cock, baby?”

“Yes, now give it to me!”

Your eager response sent Yunho back into a darker mindset, already shoving his throbbing length into your tight hole, groaning when he bottomed out right away. “Ffffuck, my baby’s always so tight…” he mused, letting out a small satisfied laugh, before he began slamming himself in and out of you at a brutal pace, right out of the gate.

“Jesus, fuck!” you choked, your voice cracking unintentionally, almost feeling dizzy from the way Yunho was fucking you. Your body went completely lax against the couch cushion, feeling more drool leaking out past your lips, your fingers twitching slightly behind your back.

“Oh my goddd, just look at you taking it like a good little whore…You love it, don’t you?” Yunho lowered himself and laid directly on your back, his arms moving past either side of you and resting down on the couch cushion, his body heavy against yours. “You like being my little fuckdoll, baby?” he asked against your earlobe, his harsh breaths sending shivers down your spine.

You nodded your head weakly, barely able to focus on what Yunho was saying, due to the waves of fire that were ripping through your body, threatening to send you over the edge. You abruptly gritted your teeth when you felt him pounding into you even harder than before, if that was possible. Your hands formed into fists, feeling like you were genuinely going to lose it, thanks to the mind-breaking amount of pleasure that was flooding your brain and body. “W-wait, no more! It’s-aaah-too much, Yuyu! Please…! I’m gonna go fucking crazy!”

Your boyfriend let out a dark chuckle, reaching for your panties that were crumbled up on the couch and grabbing them, muttering, “Sorry, angel. You’re gonna have to be a good girl and take it.” Before you could protest, Yunho shoved your panties into your mouth, in such a rough manner, that you gagged around the thin lacy material.

You instinctively tried to move your arms, letting out a muffled whine, knowing you had absolutely no control over the situation. This only served to increase the intensity of your high, encouraging you to unravel completely, feeling Yunho fucking your abudant wetness out of you, and, in turn, hearing him groan loudly above you.

“You just came, didn’t you, angel?” he questioned, in between breaths, finding it amusing that you couldn’t even answer him, causing him to let out an airy, pleased chuckle. “My beautiful little rope bunny…Both of your holes stuffed with my cock and your own ripped panties…Oh my goddd, I think I’m gonna cum….!” Getting himself worked up with his own words, in addition to your pussy constricting around his length like a vice, he let out a long, strangled moan, his cum spilling out deep inside you. However, he continued to thrust into you, refusing to stop, until your pussy milked him completely dry. “Ahhh, goddd…baby…take it allll…”

You moaned around the makeshift gag, along with Yunho, your thighs trembling from the overwhelmingly warm and comforting sensation you felt within your core, letting you stay in a state of pure euphoria for a significant amount of time. “Mmmfff…”

After the both of you had finally come down, Yunho took his time untying you, and in turn, admiring the rope burns littered around your skin, running his fingers along some of them, sending shivers up your spine. “So pretty…” he murmured to himself, before pulling you up and into his arms, relaxing his body against the couch. “You did so well for me, angel.” He kissed your forehead and your temple a few times, mumbling onto your skin, “Are you okay, angel? I didn’t go too far, did I?”

You shook your head, wrapping your arms around him and hugging him as tightly as you possibly could, replying, “I’m more than okay, Yuyu. I couldn’t be better.” Hearing Yunho’s sigh of approval, you opted to stay in his arms for a prolonged amount of time, enjoying his warmth.

“Yuyu?” you eventually spoke up, something on your mind.

“Yeah?”

You pulled back slightly, so that you could look up at him, a small mischievous smile on your face. “Do you think you can dress up as Ghostface next time?” You patted his shoulder a couple times, out of excitement. “Oh, and call me on the phone when I get off of work and ask me what my favorite scary movie is!”

He smiled at you, nodding his head and rubbing your back in gentle circles, wondering how you could be so cute. “Of course I can, angel.”

Your lips formed an ‘o’ shape, as if you had another idea, your smile becoming brighter. “And Michael Myers after that!”

Yunho reeled back, his eyebrows raising up. “Angel,” he started, letting out a surprised chuckle, shaking his head. “Really? Michael Myers?”

You got defensive almost immediately, holding up an accusative finger in his direction, your eyes narrowing.

“Don’t you fucking judge me!”

➽───────────────❥

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#ateez #ateez smut #ateez yunho #yunho ateez #yunho #yunho smut #yunho x reader #ateez x reader #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez x y/n #kpop smut #ateez oneshot #ateez hard hours #jeong yunho

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pocketjoong · 6 months

Text

❥𓂃𓏧Intertwined Destinies

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (SYNOPSIS) "There will come a time, you'll see, with no more tears, and love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears..." After The Storm, Mumford & Sons

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (PAIRING) idol!seonghwa x gn!reader

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (GENRE AND AU/TROPE): angst to fluff. soulmates.

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (WARNINGS) Angst. It ends in fluff though? Sad and frustrated Seonghwa. Sad you. Mentions of broken hearts. Lmk if I missed anything ksksks

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (WORD COUNT) 1.4k

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (A/N) @hwaightme my loveeeeeeee~ happy birthday! I love you as much as there are stars (hwas) in the night sky. thank you for being you and for being such a kind and warm person. wishing you lots of love from the bottom of my hwart. I hope this is not too angsty asdfghjkl, I was planning on fluff, but my brain didn't want to listen... :) Anyways, I hope you like this little rollercoaster of tears, and i'm sorry in advance!

Shoutout to @armysantiny for reading this beforehand!

Seonghwa runs his fingers through his already tousled ebony hair, groaning as he pauses the track sent to him by the producers at KQ. In the dimly lit studio, the neon glow from the computer screen casts a dreamy glow around him. Seonghwa’s brows furrow as he stares down at the pages of his leather-bound notebook. Each scribbled lyric within its pages doesn’t seem to fit the melody given to him.

For Seonghwa, writing lyrics is a territory he’s still exploring and learning. But he wanted to challenge himself this time around, especially since he had received help from Hongjoong while writing lyrics for his rap verse in Bouncy. That experience ignited the desire to create something that will not only awe atinys but also the composers too. But till now, every word he has penned down seems like a discordant note in what he would consider a masterpiece.

With a deep, exasperated sigh, Seonghwa slumps back in his chair. The leather creaks in protest, adding another irritating voice to the cacophony of his own rapidly darkening thoughts. Seonghwa groans again, frustration etched across his features as he tugs at the roots of his hair as though trying to yank inspiration from the depths of his mind.

“You will rip out all your hair if you keep that up,” Hongjoong deadpans from the doorway, causing the elder male to slowly swivel in his chair, exhausted eyes meeting the former’s figure. “You need help?”

Seonghwa’s response is a weary shake of his head, his lips parting, about to reassure his friend, but Hongjoong interjects, his voice laced with concern.

“You need to take a break, Hwa,” Hongjoong implores. “You’ve been cooped up for so long in the studio. That’s my thing, not yours. We’re worried about you, especially since…” He trails off, his gaze shifting to Seonghwa’s forearm, which remains fully concealed by his full-sleeved shirt.

“Oh, it's fine, Hongjoong,” Seonghwa smiles, though anyone can see the fakeness of it. “I'm—”

“—If you say fine once more, I swear,” unable to bear his friend’s hollow reassurances any longer, Hongjoong cuts him off with a firm tone and sits on the vacant chair next to Seonghwa. “I've known you for years, Hwa. And even if I didn't, I would still be able to know that you are not fine.”

Seonghwa's weary sigh seems to echo in the dimly lit room as his gaze drifts up to the false ceiling as if searching for answers among the shadows.

“I’m not…” he begins, words weighed down by the gravity of his emotions. “How can I be? I was supposed to get my soulmate tattoo on my birthday. And I didn’t.” The words spill from his lips like a lament, each syllable tinged with the bitterness of disappointment. His voice begins to quiver as he continues to speak, “Out of every single person in this world, why is it me who doesn't have a soulmate? Am I not worthy of one? I know I’m not perfect, but…” Seonghwa’s voice breaks, and he finally turns to look at Hongjoong with tear-filled eyes. “Out of everyone, why me?”

“Seonghwa…” Hongjoong begins, but the weight of Seonghwa’s words leaves him momentarily speechless.

Seonghwa lets out a bitter chuckle and shakes his head as if trying to shake off the sorrow that clings to him like a shroud. He rises from his seat, “You won't understand, Joong. You have an amazing soulmate; please take care of them.”

With that, Seonghwa leaves the room, leaving Hongjoong alone in the dimly lit studio. As the door closes behind the taller male, his eyes fall on the lyrics Seonghwa had penned.

Mournful thunder rips the skiesIt’s much too bright for me to hideAnd purples lie beneath my eyesAnother crash as clouds collide

“You're right,” Hongjoong whispers in the studio, his voice blending in with the shadows. I don't understand. But I wish from the bottom of my heart that the universe gives you your soulmate. If anyone deserves one, it’s you,” his words hand in the air, lingering like an unspoken prayer, even though he knows that Seonghwa can’t hear him.

As he speaks, a soft breeze gently rustles the curtains, casting patterns of light and shadow on the walls. The room itself seems to hold its breath as if in reverence for the longing that envelopes Seonghwa’s heart.

The world has always worked in peculiar ways as it tries to unite each soulmate pair. On the day one turned 22, the universe would bestow an individual with soulmate marks. Each mark, in one way or another, had the power to help the bearer to contact their soulmate, either through dreams, thoughts, or writing. It is different for everyone but similar in that it all led to one destination: the union of souls.

You had always believed in the concept of soulmates, for it was a belief etched deep into your heart as you couldn’t help but be captivated by the concept. You loved to read about soulmates and heard stories from people about how they met their soulmates. Hearing all the stories from different people, you started fantasising about how you’d meet yours. And by the time you turned 22, there wasn’t a thing you didn't know about soulmates. You had read almost every book you could lay hands on and talked to whoever had met their soulmates. There were some cases where someone didn’t get their soulmate tattoo, but that was extremely rare, and in one generation, not more than one or two people didn’t get their tattoos. But since you had read everything and knew a lot, you thought you were ready for anything.

But nothing could have prepared you for the disaster that struck on the day of your 22nd birthday, a day that was meant for a celebration of destiny. You were happy as you saw the beautiful musical note that was engraved on the skin of your wrist that morning. There was a skip in your step that day until the evening. As you were returning from your classes at the university while listening to ATEEZ, a K-Pop group that you loved for their deep and meaningful music, you became aware of the stinging pain in your wrist. Like a nightmare, you saw the newly acquired music note fade, and the world was enveloped in darkness. When you awoke, you found yourself in the sterile confines of a hospital room, surrounded by your family, who bore expressions of sympathy and sorrow.

A year has passed since that fateful day that shattered your dreams, leaving you grappling with the wreckage of your heart. In a bid to start life anew, you move to South Korea, taking on the role of a translator for a broadcasting network.

As you navigate your new life in a foreign land, the pain of your lost soulmate remains a constant companion, an indelible mark on your heart. The wound is far from healed, but a sense of contentment begins to seep into your life. South Korea, with its bustling cityscape, offers you solace and a chance to rebuild your life.

The rain pelts against the coffee shop’s misty windowpanes, creating a soothing melody of its own. Inside the warmth of the coffee shop, you sit perched upon a cushioned stool, your hand cradling a cup of warm hot chocolate in your hands. The cafe is quite crowded today due to individuals seeking shelter from the rain. The soft chatter of conversations swirls in the air, punctuated by the distant hum of espresso machines and the occasional clinking of cutlery.

As you gaze out at the deserted street, a tranquil feeling settles within you, the raindrops serving as a lullaby to your thoughts. It allows you a brief respite from the storm, both literal and metaphorical, that had rages within your soul.

The sound of the bell, which signals the door’s opening, shakes you out of your reverie. You look up, curiosity piqued by the arrival of a masked figure. The male surveys the room, eyes scanning the available seating options, and his gaze settles upon the only vacant spot next to you.

With each step the mysterious figure takes to walk toward you, you can’t help but feel that you know them from somewhere. Your pulse quickens when realisation dawns upon you. It hits you like lightning that the mysterious figure is Park Seonghwa.

Your breath is caught in your throat as he approaches. His sultry, brown eyes meet yours, and something clicks inside you. As if controlled by an unseen force, he reaches a hand out for you, and as your fingers meet his, a beautiful star engraves itself on both your and his wrists, a symbol of your intertwined destinies.

#cromernet #k-labels #wonderlandnet #kvanity #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez fic #ateez angst #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa imagines #seonghwa reactions #seonghwa fluff #seonghwa angst

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heartsofminds · 1 year

Text

and at every table, i’ll save you a seat - part i

“Well, apparently Baby Goose’s been losing his mind ‘round the base about how this really smart and sweet girl invited him to a wedding and won’t text him about it.” or you invite Bradley to a wedding but your big fat crush on him won’t let you actually. . .invite him.

“and at every table, i’ll save you a seat” - tunes of the gossipy Hard Deck patrons and liking someone so much you feel like you can’t breathe

A/N: hey guys!!! so in the midst of writing this, i realized how long it actually is and how many dividers i had on my google doc? anyway, i thought it would probably work out so much better if it was released in parts rather than just one, big, fat, HUGEEEE piece that would probs crash on mobile. listen along to the playlist (that will be updated with each writing update) and relish in overly flirtatious bradley with me! which btw, he’s the lover album personified with a dash of red and a hint of fearless!

“I’m not asking him.”

Phoenix rolls her eyes before she takes a sip from her Ultra. The thought of it tasting revolting because of its lukewarmness crosses her mind despite her head pounding unceremoniously. She almost speaks up to answer you, but closes her mouth.

She softly places the bottle back down on the counter instead.

She can’t quite tell if the pain in her temples is from the sound of excited chatter all around her, the sound of Mickey, Javy, and Bob shittily singing Go Your Own Way on the karaoke machine in the corner, or the sound of your blue glitter gel pen scratching away at the scrap paper you have by the register; frantically carrying decimals for tip calculation and pathetically adding and subtracting since Penny’s “older than dirt” cash register bit the dust an hour prior.

She almost concludes that the pounding ache working its way to the forefront of her brain is because of your absolute and utter refusal to do the simple and the obvious. But wait.

I haven’t eaten at all today. Yeah, that’s it.

A deep breath fills her lungs before she exhales. Her elbows find themselves on the lip of the bar top and her forearms come up to rest her head on her hands. She notices that the scribbling stops from what she assumes is you looking at her.

An uncomfortable beat passes which is unusual for you two. There’s always some sly remark made or interminable giggling filling the gaps of silence.

You pop your hip on the corner of the table. Your magenta tank top was far too bright of a pink to be welcome in the warm-hued bar. Your bracelet screams “graduation gift” and you can feel the oil on your face contorting your makeup as your time in the muggy air passes.

Out of place is always in your thoughts but doesn’t become an insecurity until you’re left alone with them. The absence of Phoenix’s voice makes this fact more obvious to you.

“You good? Not gonna hurl all over the place?” you cautiously ask, “Because it’s fine if you gotta puke, but I’ll murder you if you make me clean it up.”

Natasha lets out something short of a laugh but too informal to be considered a huff. “I’m fine,” she says, leaning her head into her hand and adjusting herself in her seat.

You nod, returning to your scribbling when the man sitting next to her hands his card to you. “You know, if you write any harder, you might permanently etch,” she pauses, leaning over to get a peek at what you had just written, “ten dollars and eighty-three cents into the counter.”

“Maybe it’ll convince Penny that a new cash register is a need and not a luxury.”

Natasha scoffs. “Could say the same about your plus one, but hey, if you don’t want my advice, then certainly don’t take it.”

You hand the gentleman back his card with a smile and a small “thank you” before returning your attention back to Natasha. She digs her teeth subtly into the plush of her bottom lip.

“I already told you. I’m not asking him.”

She groans, pushing herself to stand up from her seat. Even dressed in civilian clothes, she looks like she belongs. Her aura demands respect; even in a lacy wine-colored top that Hangman had tried to tease her about earlier when the brood of rowdy pilots had first arrived.

“Well, you said no to Jake.”

“You say it like he would be willing to say yes.”

“You said no to Rueben.”

“He’s in a situationship with that girl from my spin class. Going with me to a wedding and her seeing the pics on Instagram would just make shit weird,” you start scrubbing at the permanent water stain near the beer taps anxiously, “Especially when I set them up.”

Natasha rolls her eyes again. She swears that by the end of the night, she’ll know exactly what the inside of her eyelids look like.

“Whatever,” she huffs, “You said no to Javy and Bob.”

“Javy would rub the fact that I asked in Jake’s face and they’ll start a pissing contest on how to woo me…and Bob,” you look around to make sure no one who knows you all is within earshot, “He’s sweet. Like, sooo sweet.”

Natasha tries not to crack a smile before you get your words out, but she certainly knows where the tail end of your sentence is going. “But it’s definitely not believable that we would be together and my aunt is one hell of an FBI agent and I’m sure he’d crack and rat us out and I’d have to sit there and eat my weight in tiramisu to drown my embarrassment.”

Business is painfully slow for a Thursday evening despite the upcoming weekend. Your eyes dart around the room to look for anyone to come and rescue you from this conversation (and even volunteer to be your date to your bitchy cousin’s wedding next weekend without you asking, but you know to only hope for one miracle at a time). And when your eyes turn up empty for an ample opportunity, your shoulders droop while Natasha snickers at you.

“Cut your losses and just ask him. I know he won’t say no,” she says, coy smirk at home on her face.

“No. Absolutely not.”

“What is so wrong with him that you don’t wanna do it? Huh?”

You ponder on her statement before shaking your head. You’d rather be shot in the foot with a nail gun eight times than expose your silly little schoolgirl crush in the middle of the Hard Deck in front of his best friend turned your best friend since moving to the area five months ago.

“Why not Neil or Brigham? Or hell, even Mickey? I know he’s like, engaged, but Mariella is so freakin’ sweet and I know she’d understand so like-”

“Mmm-mmm. No, no, and hell no.” Your frown plasters itself on your lips faster than you can comprehend at her words. “Rooster or bust.”

Your spine straightens as you begin to engage in protest before you’re cut off by the man himself.

“Rooster or bust, what?” he asks, lips coming out to lick the dryness of the San Diego sun away. Your knees start to buckle and you can hear Natasha stifle a laugh as you try to conceal your lack of balance.

He stands in front of you, hand on his hips and sunglasses tucked on the tight, white tank top underneath his button-down shirt. Today’s print was red with cream-colored hibiscus flowers and you wonder how he could pull them off so well. If it were anyone else, you would have had to try your hardest to keep it together with Natasha in front of you; the jokes about touristy dads and low-budget porn actors in the works.

You realize he’s waiting for an answer as you see Natasha getting called away to sing karaoke with Javy and the gang out of the corner of your eye.

Great. Just fucking great.

“Taking bets on who the best pilot is or?” Bradley speaks, trying to get to the bottom of the small fragment of the conversation he had walked into.

“I-,” you stammer.

Fuck. Can someone just come to the bar and order so I can avoid this?

“You?” he looks at you through his eyebrows comically. Everything he does makes you nervous.

“I-,” the lines in his forehead raise with the infliction of your voice, “I need a favor. Like a big one.”

“Okay,” he laughs, “How big are we talking?”

“Umm-”

“Like ‘giving you my other kidney’ big or letting you borrow my car big?” he interrupts.

“Well-”

“Or do you need me to house sit? Dogsit? Babysit?”

You inhale as you place your hands on the countertop. Your eyes find his honeyed-colored ones and you almost drown in them before your pride kicks in.

I cannot embarrass myself in front of him.

“I need you to come to a wedding,” you speak gently. You can see the wheels turning in his head without him having to say anything. Bradley’s face always gave his thoughts away.

“If you don’t have plans, of course.”

The realization of what you had just said starts to kick you upside the head the longer you look at him. He doesn’t say anything. His face doesn’t move at all. You’re pretty sure he hasn’t even blinked yet.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

“And if you’re comfortable! Obviously!” you start to ramble before you can convince yourself to shut the hell up, “It’s next Saturday in Long Beach near the seaside. You don’t have to say yes or anything but I just thought I’d ask because I had a plus one when I had a boyfriend eight months ago and now-”

“I’ll go.”

“-we’re not together anymore and my bitchy cousin is the one getting married who, by the way, makes everything a competition but that’s beside the point. But I know my mom is gonna be pissed if I don’t bring someone because my aunt is her sister and she’ll bitch about how they wasted money and how my mom is running out of time to become a grandma because I’m not married yet and that’s totally not true because I’m not even thirty so my biological clock hasn’t even started ticking yet but -”

“Hey!” he raises his voice slightly, amusement hidden in his tone, “I said I’d go with ya, kid.” He steps forward to put his hands on your bare shoulders. You try not to melt into his touch.

“S’all good. I love weddings and the beach. Promise it’s not a hassle.”

You’re dumbfounded by his response and how collected he is about your word vomit, not to mention being invited to a wedding where he’ll meet not only your parents, but your entire extended family in a little over a week. You know for certain you wouldn’t have handled the situation as calmly as he had.

“You - you’ll…go?” The sound of Britney Spears’s “Toxic” and Jake absolutely murdering the high notes in the back of the bar is the only thing keeping you from spiraling into another dimension.

“Well, I’m not a liar,” he sits down on the seat Phoenix was previously occupying, “I don’t just say things I don’t mean.”

Your head nods solemnly in silent understanding, your hands grabbing a glass to pour him a whiskey on the rocks. He raises his eyebrows in suspicion at you knowing what his usual drink is, but throws away the thought to comment on it before it can even develop all the way. The subtle pang in his chest of you taking that much notice of him makes itself known. He would be lying if he was to say he didn’t hold a brightly lit candle for you.

You’re a regular, Bradshaw. Get your head out of your ass.

“To be honest,” you start, placing the chilled glass in front of him, “that sounds a lot like something a liar would say.”

He gives you a soft smile as he reaches into his back pocket to grab his wallet. “Well good thing that I’m not one then, right?”

Your heart flutters in nervousness and with about as much grace as a stampede of elephants. You’re positive that Bradley can see the outline of it beating out of your chest.

“No, no, no. Your drink is on the house.”

He shakes his head, forcing the twenty dollar bill that lays in between his fingers next to the scrap paper you have laying near the register. “No, I insist.”

“No, I insist. It’s on me, Bradley.”

He cracks a soft smile as he forces the money into your hand. His fingers wrap yours around the beat-up bill that has definitely seen better days. “That just won’t do ma’am.”

“I”m awaiting Bar results, not living in a shoebox on I-405. I assure you that two dollars and sixty cents won’t break the bank.”

The loud scrapping of a bar stool against the hardwood floor (which will probably leave a noticeable scratch in the hardwood flooring that Penny will pretend not be upset about) interrupts the cocoon of the world that existed with just you and him. Just you and Bradley…and Jake Seresin’s loud ass mouth yelling, “Bradshaw! What the hell, man? Get your ass over here and sing some Journey with me!” across the bar.

He shakes his head in disbelief and if you didn’t know any better (didn’t feed into your delusions, is more like it) you would almost think that he was…disappointed? That he didn’t want to leave you and that he was almost as desperate as you to give each other attention; eyes fully and ears solely attuned to the other.

Hoots and hollers and the sound of his call sign being screamed from his rowdy group of friends make the delusion hard to manage, and the reality finally kicks in that he’s not here for you. He’s here for them.

You wish you weren’t so good at hurting your own feelings sometimes.

“Your spotlight awaits you,” you sigh, trying not to show how dejected you felt to him.

A beat of silence passes before he slides his palms on the front of his jeans.

“Here.” He snatches your blue glitter gel pen off the table, his tongue poking out of the side of his mouth as he begins to write. “Text me the details?”

He offers a slight smile that makes your words catch in your throat; the butterflies dinging around in your stomach begging you to reach out and touch him. To lean forward. To say something. To do something. Anything.

But before you can he’s zipped across the bar and the sound of Call Me by Blondie inflates the room. You look down at the cerulean ink with specks of shimmer in it.

xxx-xxx-xxxx Call me, kid! Bradley B

You’re definitely not gonna call him anytime soon…

“Sweetheart, I love you, but if you dry those glasses one more time I think I’ll have a brain aneurysm.”

Penny snatches the dish towel from your hands as your mouth gapes in silent protest. She throws it lazily on the countertop and snags the crate of beer glasses that you were going to town on away from you. The clinging sound of the dishes makes your head droop with disappointment.

“I wasn’t done yet! They still feel slippery! ”you complain and she just teasingly shakes her head.

“So?”

She winks at you and you have to find it in your heart not to be a little annoyed at her for cutting your task off mid-attempt.

Perfectionism fuels your life and she knows this. She knows that you’re using the glasses to stress clean. She knows that your cousin’s wedding weekend starts on Friday and you’re fighting the urge to tear your hair out. She also knows that you have Bradley’s phone number on a slip of paper that’s burning a hole through your nightstand because you still haven’t called him.

“So?” you ask, lightly mimicking Penny’s statement, “Someone’s gonna drop the glass because they’ve never learned how to hold it the right way and then there’s gonna be glass shards everywhere and they’ll get hurt and-”

“You are such a worry wart, my dear. Reeelaaax,” she interrupts, placing her warm, nimble fingers on your shoulders.

The subtle sunburn you had gotten this past weekend is slowly starting to calm down, but the initial sting still startles you. She can see the small happenings of a frown starting to form on your lips and she decides to frown along with you. She spins you to face her and holds your forearms in her hands, offering them a gentle squeeze of encouragement.

It’s not a secret that Penny Benjamin takes pride in knowing her staff well and loving them even better. In the five months she’s gotten to know you, she’s taken you in as one of her own without making her love for you about her. That was kind of her thing; knowing all without having to be told and giving so selflessly without having to ask if you were in need.

Penny just got it, and it’s hard to find people like that nowadays; people who love you genuinely and truly expecting nothing in return.

The thought of her warmness makes you sniffle, and you’re sure that if the jukebox wasn’t turned on and playing some Beach Boys tune, the tears would’ve made their way down your face at a speed that Formula One drivers would envy.

“I know what it feels like to have your every movement judged and not being able to say anything to defend yourself,” she starts, “But you’re smart. You’re kind. You’re so important. And you’re nothing less than amazing, so don’t let anyone treat you like you aren’t.”

You can’t muster up the words to keep the conversation alive. You’re sure that all that would come out of your mouth is a blubbering mess you don’t feel like trying to force out in between choked sobs. Besides, the car doors closing in the parking lot alert you both to the Wednesday night crowd making their way in.

You settle for a small “thank you” before she cracks another smile at you; lips quirked up in amusement. She saunters off to the back to grab the bucket of prepped lime wedges.

“You never have to thank me for the words you deserve, sweetheart. Those are on the house.”

You snort before wiping your nose with the back of your hand. Only she could manage to subdue the mini meltdown brewing in the depths of your chest. But Penny was just like that.

Always calm, cool, and collected.

The night moves slowly in a frame-by-frame manner (one that emulates the night you asked Bradley to be your date, but you shake the thought whenever it tries to enter your head because you think you may actually puke). It’s nothing too out of the ordinary for a Wednesday night.

Mickey and Mariella pop in for mango margaritas after their weekly date night. Mickey gives you a small “hello” before flashing you a knowing smirk. You try to ignore Mariella swatting at his chest, but the imagery eats you up inside. You know that he knows and that she knows, and not taking the steps to actually ask Bradley to a wedding you invited him to makes you feel guilty.

He picks up on your guilt when his eyes catch you twisting your ring around your pointer finger. His eyes soften and he almost considers apologizing to you before he thinks about it. Bringing more attention to it would embarrass you more, he figures. The apology sitting on his tongue is swallowed down with a sip of his drink and Mariella’s kick to his shin.

“Well, we’re about to head out. We’ll see you Friday?” Mickey declares as Mariella narrows her dark eyes at him.

Your heart stops and your fingers feel numb.

Fuck. He wants to bring up Bradley. What do I say? Fuck. Shit. Wait. How does he even know? Has Bradley brought me up? Fuck, wait. He wouldn’t do that. Why would he even be talking about me? He probably told them that I’m obsessed with him and he was cornered and couldn’t say no and-

“Uh? Are you good?” Mickey looks at you with soft eyes and waves his hand in front of your face.

Mariella slaps it down from in front of you. “Don’t do that. She’s not a fucking dog, Mick.”

He rolls his eyes playfully. “Duh. I know that. I just wanted to make sure she wasn’t having a seizure or anything like that.”

“A seizure?”

“They’re called absence seizures. Went down a whole YouTube rabbit hole about them a couple of nights ago.”

You chuckle at their antics and can’t wait for the day they finally have their wedding. At least when the time comes you know you won’t have to forge a story about having a boyfriend. And it’ll be a wedding filled with people you actually like; ones that don’t make you order water out of feeling insecure about how many calories you’re consuming or ones that gossip about the shade of blush you wore making you look too “flushed” behind your back.

“I go down rabbit holes all the time,” you chide, “I watched this documentary about the Pentagon Papers and the atomic bomb from World War II the other day, and now I’m confident I could get my Ph.D. in like, Historical American Screw-Ups.”

Mickey and Mariella let out chortles at your statement before starting to head toward the exit.

“Well, we’ll see you later then. Tell us about that wedding on Monday?”

Your mouth hangs open as they stride out the front doors of Hard Deck. The shock of what just happened makes your heart beat erratically.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! He told.

Mike Metcalf sits at the corner of the bar top on his regular stool with his sweating glass housing a whiskey neat. He sends you a teasing smirk as you move near him to wipe the countertop down.

“Still haven’t texted him?” he asks.

The shock continues to run through your body. You have to place your hands on the edge of the table to keep yourself from stumbling over.

Why does everyone in this bar know what’s going on?

Admiral Metcalf was friendly with you - one of those regulars who offer you engaging conversation, tidbits of grandfatherly affection, and generous tips.

You would tell him not to tip you so much for a single drink, but he would always insist; quoting something along the lines of you reminding him of his granddaughter and that you treated everyone with such kindness and respect that you deserved it back tenfold.

You take a deep breath, arms pushing you up slowly to stand upright. “I’m scared to ask how you know.”

He chuckles, a real belly laugh, and you struggle to find out why you can’t piece together a logical explanation for how he would know.

“Well, apparently Baby Goose’s been losing his mind ‘round the base about how this really smart and sweet girl invited him to a wedding and won’t text him about it.” He shrugs before taking a long drink from his glass. “Thought it sounded like you. I meant to ask about it the other night, but once you turn eighty you forget things at the drop of a hat.”

“Smart and sweet?” you want to ask, but you know that it would confirm rather than get you the answers that you want. You shake your head to dislodge the thought before furrowing your eyebrows.

“. . . Baby Goose?”

The older man plays with the paper coaster underneath his drink. A soft smile blooms on his lips. “We’re talking about Bradley Bradshaw. Correct?”

You start to drum your fingers against the lip of the bar top. The thought of lying briefly crosses your mind until the sound of James Brown’s shriek at the beginning of “I Got You (I Feel Good)” startles you.

“Uhh, hello? You still there, kiddo?”

I have got to get better at answering quicker.

You straighten your spine and pop your hand on your hip. “Wouldn’t the correct terminology be ‘gosling’?”

He raises his brows, “Rooster. Baby Goose. Bradshaw. Gosling,” he rattles off, counting the phrases on his fingers, “Does any of this ring a bell?”

You chew on your lip. The toe of your sneaker slides underneath the sole of your other one. The fidgeting tells Admiral Metcalf all he needs to know.

“Maybe,” you say under your breath.

“Maybe?” he questions. He leans forward to investigate your expression with his eyes.

Another sigh exits your lips. “Okay, well, maybe a little.”

You sound defeated, he thinks. He decides to investigate even though he can hear his wife’s voice in his head telling him not to. If he turns his head just a little bit to the right, his hearing aid catches the sound of the jukebox. He can’t focus on you talking and his wife’s voice if he also hears the jukebox.

Sorry, Carrie.

His chair swivels a little bit and he wipes his hands on his jeans. “It’s certainly more than a little, kiddo. Especially if you asked him to a wedding.”

You scoff, annoyance painting the inside of your brain. Nosiness is one thing you absolutely cannot stand, and it’s the reason why you insisted on not moving back in with your mom after law school. Working yourself to the bone to study for the Bar during the day while mixing drinks and popping caps off of beer bottles at night seemed worlds better than having your privacy invaded constantly. Tired or private. From where you stand currently, it’s safe to say you picked the latter.

Or so you thought.

“So is this just a thing?” You can feel your heart rate speed up as you start to become defensive. “Like, a trend where all you Hard Deck patrons like to gossip and spread rumors?”

“It’s not a rumor if it’s true.”

You almost roll your eyes but the politeness you were raised with paired with your people-pleasing won’t let you.

“Yeah, but it’s technically gossip if you didn’t hear it from me,” you state directly, “How do you even talk to all these people on the base? Aren’t you retired?”

Admiral Metcalf chuckles. “I may be in bed by 8 every night but it doesn’t mean I’m not social, my dear.”

“Okay, but why would your connections be talking to you about Gosling?” You lean on your forearms and glance at the cash register to make sure someone isn’t waiting to be served. Your eyes glance back to the older gentleman sat in front of you. “Aren’t you guys like. . .fifteen generations removed from each other?”

He gently pats your arm with his calloused palm. “You’re a funny girl.”

“You’re dodging my question,” you frown, sitting up straight and grabbing him his usual glass of water he drinks before he decides to go home.

He mouths a quick “thank you” before taking a sip. “Did it ever occur to you that I was a pilot?”

The wheels in your brain start turning to decipher why he would say that and how it would mean that he and Bradley know each other.

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“And a Top Gun instructor.”

“Okay. . .?” You’re starting to get the hint now, but it still just seems like a lot of abstract events put together.

“I taught Maverick and Goose.”

Penny’s “boyfriend, not-boyfriend” who comes in to pick her up or hang out on days when the crowd is as dead as a cemetery. Maverick.

But who’s -

“Goose?” you ask, finishing your question out loud.

“Bradley’s father.”

And shit. Oh shit. Fucking shit!

“I- You- Wait-” you stammer. He simply sips on his water, amusement painted on his features at the signs of your internal panic.

“So that’s how I know. I keep in touch with Maverick and he just happened to mention the absolute mess Rooster’s been the past couple days about this wedding,” he declares, “Which, by the way, is kind of rude to invite someone and then not go into detail about it. Don’t you think?”

Your mouth opens and closes in shock, the magnitude of your recent revelation being endorsed by the silence coming from you.

Your brain can’t even begin to wrap around all the degrees of separation and acquaintances and friendships Bradley has from the bombshell of information that was just dropped on you. This place is just littered with people who probably knew him before he was Rooster; all puppy fat and awkward haircuts. You bet there’s probably a series of his prom and high school graduation photos that circulated from eye to eye.

But this also means that if you go through with it, that if you actually bring him with you to Long Beach this weekend, you’ll become part of that essence of knowing - everyone knowing what Bradley told them and your entire weekend spent with him being a topic of discussion.

You try to get over the dehumanizing feeling that will come with being called “Hard Deck Girl” after this weekend when he inevitably tells Maverick about his weekend who will then tell Iceman who will probably tell Admiral Metcalf. You can’t bear to think about all the snickers and teasing that will come from Bradley’s group of friends.

Hangman loves to tease you already. You don’t think you’ll survive more “pigtail pulling” if word gets out about Bradley having to hold your hand and awkwardly slow dance with you on Saturday.

Admiral Metcalf lets out an impressive-sounding whistle that catches your attention and brings you back to Earth.

“That’s one gorgeous Bronco,” he comments, head turned to look outside the windows of the bar. “Used to have one just like it years ago.”

Your eyes follow his gaze to see the cobalt blue vehicle parked in one of the empty spaces of the parking lot. The headlights fade as the owner steps out of the vehicle and -

Fuck!

He has a soft bounce in his strut. His Raybans are tucked into the collar of his white t-shirt. The light-wash denim of his jeans hugs his legs just the right way. His slightly rosy cheeks and tanned forearms bulging from his shirt make him unmistakable.

Bradley Bradshaw is about to walk into the bar. On a Wednesday night. While the crowd is drier than the Mojave.

And there’s nowhere for you to run.

He has a slightly faster pace set to his walk than he usually does. . . Not like you spend your time watching him walk (even though you do, and you’d rather roll over and die than admit that to anyone).

“Good luck getting him back on that perch,” Admiral Metcalf speaks up. He opens his worn leather wallet and fishes out a fifty-dollar bill. “He won’t fly back up there once he gets off.”

You follow him to the cash register to ring him up. The drawer is opened and the bills counted for his change before he stops you.

“Keep it. Part of your tip,” he says, “Least I can do for all the trouble I’ve caused you tonight.”

You begin to thank him before the saloon-style doors open and Bradley stands dead in the center, hands on his hips and eyes grazing the surroundings.

“Good luck, kiddo. I’m sure I’ll hear all about it,” Admiral Metcalf says before turning on his heel. He claps Bradley on the shoulder as a brief greeting and continues his stride outside to the parking lot.

Your heart starts beating in your chest erratically; a tell-tale sign of white hot panic that makes your knees buckle and heat grow on your scalp.

And you’re. . . starting to sweat?

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

Bradley spots you while you stand paralyzed at the cash register. Your fingers are shaky and a lump in your throat starts to form. You feel like a deer in headlights when he begins to stalk forward to approach you.

“I’ve gotta bone to pick with you, missy,” his voice booms, his steps coming to a halt.

His hands spread and turn as he leans on the table; eyes locked on your face.

Your adrenaline kicks in and your feet start to move faster than your brain. A harsh swallow plagues your throat before you book it to the kitchen; french braid slinging heavy on your back and the bucket of lime wedges on your mind.

Bradley zips around the oval-shaped bar top and grabs your waist before you make it out of the opening. His hands squeeze your sides softly. If you were in your right frame of mind, your cheeks would have flushed.

“Uh-uh,” he says, whipping you around to face him. His grip falls to your forearms; holding you firmly but not enough to hurt. “What’s your deal, kid?”

His breaths are exasperated. When he left work today, he had no idea that he would be chasing you around the bar like a goddamn dog who had gotten off its leash. Despite being in good shape (which he takes pride in, given the number of shirtless runs he does in his neighborhood) he still finds himself a little winded.

Your eyes are almost bulging out of your head. His touch feels electric and you feign the ability to even think about opening your mouth to respond. Bradley Bradshaw is here, right in front of you, and almost holding you hostage.

Hostage is dramatic, you think. But so is chasing me.

“I-” you start. Another harsh swallow forces its way down your throat. At this point, you think that swallowing your spit is the only way you can remind your body to breathe.

Bradley’s eyes soften at your frazzled state. He takes his hands off of you and drops them back to his sides.

“I- I need to get the lime wedge bucket,” you rush out, the entire sentence sounding like one phrase.

“Let me come with you,” he says.

Your eyes widen in surprise. “You’re not allowed back there.”

“Yeah well, you’re not allowed to ghost me about a wedding you invited me to, but look where we are,” he counters back. His legs start toward the kitchen hidden behind gray steel doors near the back.

You stand frozen; trying to catch your breath and looking around to still see an empty bar with no signs of life.

“Are you coming or not?” he calls out, a smile on his face juxtaposed to the annoyed expression he wore a few minutes ago when he caught you.

And if it were anyone else, you would be utterly annoyed. You would refuse and start rattling off how it’s a health code violation for patrons to be in the back serving area or how it was inappropriate or how you didn’t want anyone to come in and clean out the Hard Deck while you were distracted.

But because it’s Bradley and because you have this stupid big fat school girl crush on him, you don’t say anything even though you so badly want to.

He’s already a little annoyed with me, you think. He doesn’t want to hear me ramble on top of that.

Your sneakered feet follow him into the terracotta quarry-tiled kitchen in the back. He moves to the side to allow you to step in front of him in pursuit of the infamous lime wedge bucket you had your heart set on.

The silence between the two of you is deafening, but you can’t even rub two of your brain cells together to form a coherent sentence that won’t leave you hunched over in embarrassment. Having a crush as an adult is downright embarrassing. But having a crush as an adult on an older, more refined adult is absolutely humiliating.

The industrial refrigerator stands sleek and tall. The door weighs as heavy as it looks and you damn near pull your shoulder out of socket every time you attempt to open it. More than often, Penny has to come save you and open it because you can never seem to get the resistance of the rubber door gasket to give way.

Thankfully, the door opens with a heavy tug and the bucket of limes was left on a shelf you could reach. You pop the fridge door closed with your hip before you start a fast-paced walk back to the bar; leaving Bradley behind to scramble up to you once again.

In hindsight, your body language and lack of talking makes you seem furious and annoyed. And maybe you are, but it’s mostly frustration and annoyance pointed at yourself because you can’t just be fucking normal.

No, because you have to be the odd one out of your family. You have to be the one cousin who got dumped by her “perfect” dentist boyfriend (who treated you terribly, but you never complained aloud to your family for your fear of being called ungrateful and unbecoming). You have to be awkward and sensitive and young with a silly-ass schoolgirl crush on a gorgeous man who David of Michelangelo envies.

The bucket of lime wedges is slammed on the counter before you realize what your hands are doing.

Bradley rounds in front of the cash register, a sheepish look on his face. “Hey, kid,” he whispers, “I’m sorry for barging in on you like that. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

A wave of guilt breaks the tide in your brain. He’s apologizing, and it’s sincere. It’s certainly not anything you’re used to. Usually, everything is your fault and you find yourself pushing your feelings aside to accept a half-assed apology.

“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have invited you to something that’s such a big deal and then refused the details,” you say.

And you should stop there, you know, but you do that stupid thing you do about having to over-explain everything and keep going. Word vomit to the maximum.

“I mean, I think I kind of bombarded you about it? I know you said that you would go and that you didn’t mind, but it’s really a lot to ask of someone to come with you and fill in for your ex in front of your shitty family who has a cow because you didn’t get married right after undergrad.”

You rock back and forth on your heels and you pinch your fingers together to help soothe yourself. The anxiousness exuding off of you is obvious and Bradley can’t help but feel extremely guilty for making you feel horrible on top of what feelings you were already dealing with.

“You can really say no, Bradley. My feelings won’t be hurt if you do. Honest,” you whisper, finishing your statement.

Feeling small isn’t foreign to you in the slightest.

His eyes soften even more. He recognizes the doubt written all over you. He’s felt that way so many times before.

“I said what I meant, and I really wanna go to that wedding with you. Honest to God, I mean it,” he says, taking a seat on a stool nearby. “I just need to know what the plan is so I can pick you up and everything. Don’t want my suit to clash with your dress now, do we?”

A small giggle leaves your lips. “Alright, Casanova. You’ve convinced me.”

He extends his hand out to you. “Deal?” The large palm looks inviting, but you’re sure the adrenaline coursing through your veins has made your hands clammy.

Your brows knit together and your lips pull themselves into a straight line. “What the hell are you doing?” Suddenly, you’re self-conscious about the potential armpit stains that may have soaked your tank top.

Goddamn nerves.

He contorts his expression into one of faux offense. “Making you shake on it. What the fuck does it look like?”

You let out a breath through your nose. “I mean, exactly that, but don’t you think that’s too. . .”

“Sophisticated? Formal?” He grins as if he had just won the lottery.

“Little Rascals -esque.”

Bradley kisses his teeth before laughing. “You’re never too old to relish in the magic that’s The Little Rascals.”

“What happens if I don’t shake?” you question, fingers drawing circles on the surface near the cash register, “Will I be a target of the He-Man Woman Haters Club?”

“Unfortunately, I can’t confirm but I can deny only if you shake on it and promise me a dance.”

You shake your head before he finishes his sentence.

“I’m a terrible dancer.”

“Then I’ll make sure my dress shoes are steel-toe,” he reasons, shrugging his broad shoulders. His biceps subtly flex and you almost bite your lip but the fact that he’s so close and can see your expression makes you withhold.

“You really wanna go still?”

“How many times do I have to say yes, kid? I want to go with you and I promise you that we’ll have the best time ever. Is that clear enough?”

Penny waltzes back in before you can answer. Her eyes hold a mischievous glint as they look at the interaction going on between you and Bradley. She sends you a soft wink before she joins you behind the bar.

“Bradley!” she greets with a grin, coming to come rest next to you and in front of his seat.

“Hey, Pen. Mav taking you out on the bike today?”

She subtly bumps your hip with hers. She’s about to stir up some trouble.

“No, no,” she sighs, “I have to close up here tonight so we’re going this weekend.”

Bradley nods as you stand frozen next to her.

“Speaking of weekends,” she chirps, “What are your plans, Bradley?”

I love Penny. I love Penny. I love Penny. If I say it enough, I won’t wanna kill her.

“Oh, the kid and I were planning on going to her cousin’s wedding in Long Beach. We were actually just talking about it,” he answers as Penny lets out a dramatic sigh.

“Oh thank God. The suspense of if she was actually gonna talk to you about it was killing us.”

“Us?” you ask, voice filled with irritation and concern.

“Me, Pete, Tom, Mike,” Penny lists, “Jake and Rueben started a money pool. Guess Hangman’s a hundred and twenty dollars richer now.”

You groan and pinch your nose between your fingers as Penny takes your shoulders into her palms and rubs them. She picks up a crate of shot glasses before turning to leave.

“Bradley?” she calls, and his ears perk up.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Stay out of my kitchen,” her eyes narrow playfully, “That’s a health code violation.”

He holds his hands up with a grin. “You got it.”

“You kids have fun this weekend. Gonna have to take tons of pictures and show them to me!” she exclaims before disappearing behind the same steel doors Bradley had followed you into earlier.

A beat of silence passes; partly because you’re so stunned by what had just occurred.

“So,” he clears his throat, “Now that I know you’re old enough to have watched The Little Rascals, what’s the plan? Like is this an overnight thing or a reception thing or?”

You perk up at his question.

“Oh, umm.” You subconsciously pick at your cuticles before forcing yourself to stop. Your mom and aunt would be disappointed to see them ripped to shreds. “So I kinda - well, it’s an overnight thing but we definitely don’t have to stay overnight.”

He nods his head, ears intently listening to what you’re saying. You think he’s nodding his head to queue up a firm decline to your plans despite his insistence on going with you.

“I mean, you don’t have to! You can like, drive home and come back the next day? Or not go to the rehearsal dinner and just meet me at the wedding? I just know that sleeping in the same room is gonna be weird and I think my room reservation only has one bed because like I said, I had a boyfriend whenever they booked it and I never changed it after we broke up and-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he interrupts your word vomit, “Breathe, kid. Breathe.”

You take a deep inhale in and you want to kick yourself for doing it at his request.

Are you just gonna do whatever Bradley tells you to do, or do we actually have a fucking mind of our own?

“Why would I leave you hanging like that? Huh?” He licks his lips subtly and you have to keep from drooling. “You asked me to come with you and I’m gonna go the whole time and have a blast.”

You nod your head. Your thoughts and emotions have been bouncing off the wall in a vapid fashion from the two hours you’ve been clocked in.

“Okay,” you whisper shakily.

“Okay,” a laugh jumps from his throat and he leans in closer. “Can I get your number, at least? So I can call you instead and make it easier?”

You’re reaching beneath the bar and grabbing aimlessly at the mason jar full of random gel pens and a roll of open receipt paper that was too short to be put inside the machine but too long to be thrown away.

Lime green glitter ink spells out your phone number on the stark white paper before you wordlessly slide it over to rest near Bradley’s fingertips.

He sends you a smile before pulling out his phone and typing the number into the keypad. You have to look away because if you don’t, you’re sure you’ll start hyperventilating.

Your cell phone buzzes in your back pocket once, twice, thrice.

“Are you…calling me?” you ask, head tilting to the side to meet his mischievous glint.

“Context clues, kid. C’mon,” he replies. He holds his phone to his ear as he listens to the dial tone.

You stand in disbelief in front of him.

He shoos you with his hands. “Go on! Answer!” he urges.

You sigh and playfully roll your eyes before slinging your phone out of your back pocket. You click the green phone icon on your screen before bringing it to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Alright, missy. What’s the address I’m picking you up from Friday afternoon?”

Bradley Bradshaw may not be your boyfriend and probably will never be, but he sure knows how to play the part well enough to fool your family. He may even have you fooled too.

“Shit!” you yelp. Your upper body tenses up and you slam your curling iron on the countertop of your bathroom sink.

The strong vibrations of your phone ringing move your device closer to the edge. You scramble to pick it up and bring it to your ear. You didn’t bother looking at the caller ID before answering. Odds are, it’s either your mother or your only cousin that you can actually stand, Hallie.

“Fuck,” you whisper before clearing your throat, “Hello?”

You flash your neck in the mirror, fingers dancing around the irritated baby pink skin surrounding the already darkening magenta wound. The skin feels hot to the touch and you know that its placement makes it look more like a hickey than anything. Your mind starts to wonder if putting makeup on it would be a bad decision.

“Hey, kid.”

Fuck. Bradley. It’s Bradley. I forgot about Bradley!

“I’m outside.” You take a deep swallow that you pray he can’t hear over the phone. “You said the house with the purple hydrangeas near the front steps. Right?”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Am I this fucking stupid that I can’t even think of another word to use right now?

The long pause doesn’t make Bradley hang up.

“Kid? You okay in there?” The sound of a car door slamming can be heard through the receiver. You listen to the Carlsons down the street mowing their lawn. A few dogs are barking and the sound of Bradley’s shoes hitting the pavement plays a symphony with the bliss of what is a Friday afternoon at 2 PM encapsulates.

His knuckles rap against your front door and you audibly gasp. Your finger hangs up the phone before sprinting to let him in. The flutters in your stomach make you feel like you might projectile vomit any second. No amount of pep talks you had given yourself in the past two days can prepare you for the events of this weekend; not to mention Bradley and your big fat crush on him being the cherry on top.

You swing the door open; a shocked Bradley staring at you and a frenzied heart damn near beating out of your chest.

“I’m not ready yet!” you exclaim, turning your back and rushing back into your bathroom. You move so swiftly that you don’t even notice the bouquet of flowers clutched in his right hand.

Fuck! The curling iron is still on.

Bradley lets out a laugh. “Well, hello to you too.”

You pick the iron back up and finish curling the piece of hair you had started on before being interrupted.

“Sorry!” you shout back, “Give me five and I’ll be ready to go.”

Bradley lets out a puff of air he didn’t know he had been holding in. If someone had asked him a month ago where he thought he would be spending a Friday afternoon in mid-March, he probably said he wouldn’t know for sure.

Which is true.

He’s worked out a schedule where he’s able to leave work by 11 AM on Fridays and what he does is often a wild card; his Fridays range anywhere from mundane errands to impromptu skydiving endeavors with Coyote and Phoenix. He might even go for a quick afternoon surf session if he feels up to it.

He’ll admit, sometimes he imagines spending his Friday afternoons with you. In one timeline, he convinces you to ride down the coast with him at sunset. Another has you laying on your stomach at the beach with your nose shoved in a book pretending not to be ogling him while he surfs.

Bradley even lets his mind wander to the possible tan lines on your hips and how he would graze his thumbs just beneath your bikini bottoms to feel the fullness of the skin there, but then he realizes how inappropriate that may be, and he lets the thought sit in the back of his brain unwatered and underdeveloped.

Besides, he was raised better than imagining women naked. . .Even though he thinks you’re absolutely stunning both clothed and naked. . .And would love the opportunity to see you na-

That’s beside the point. Get it together, man.

His eyes survey the surroundings of your living room. Throw pillows and blankets. Candles on the coffee table. Books everywhere. Open windows create sunspots on the carpet. A vintage record player on the shelf of your bookcase and your Tango in the Night vinyl playing softly.

He likes to think that in another life (he’s hopeful for this one, but he’s learned what having too much hope does to a person) your blue fuzzy blanket has a home on his cream-colored couch or that your Fleetwood Mac vinyl finds solace next to his Otis Redding and James Brown records.

Bradley takes a seat on your couch. The brown butcher paper holding together the peony floral arrangement he had picked up crunches in his hand. The other pats along to the soft rhythm arrangement in time with “Mystified.” He can smell the faint scent of your perfume and the sounds of life you make, the small gasps and soft humming and whispered curse words, fill him with endearment.

He’s so wrapped up in melting into your aura that he doesn’t even realize that you had left the bathroom until you stood dead in front of him; curled hair, makeup on, and an electric blue dress laying flawlessly on the silhouette of your body.

You make his mouth dry and any words that he wants to say disintegrate with how amazing he thinks you look. Him not saying anything makes you panic and you wonder if you forgot to blend the bronzer near your neck or if your blush was too pink or if there was a piece of hair you had forgotten or if the dress you had on actually made you look like a frumpy version of Aquamarine (a lot of or, or, ors).

Bradley, please say something.

He sits up straighter upon seeing you. The navy blue dress pants on his long legs bring out the green in his hazel eyes. Your heart feels warm at the thought of him matching you; especially after offhandedly mentioning that you were thinking of wearing a blue dress to the dinner rehearsal.

Your eyes glance to his non-dominate hand and spot the pink peonies wrapped in butcher paper. The simple notion of him getting you flowers makes your knees weak, and the fact that he didn’t get them from the grocery store - that it was an arrangement that he had gotten from a florist - makes you wish you were a better woman and weren’t thinking of dropping to your knees right there in front of him and thanking him with a blowj-

He doesn’t even think you look pretty enough to say something. Don’t get too ahead of yourself.

“Oh,” he wipes his empty hand on the fabric of his pants, “These are for you.” He pushes the bouquet forward for your observation.

A smile is center stage on your lips as you grab them from his grasp. “Thank you. This is really kind of you, Bradley.” You turn to head into your kitchen to grab a vase.

She didn’t say they were pretty. Does she even like peonies?

The silence surrounding you both is deafening. If you could ignore the slightly prickly feeling of heat eating away at the hairline on the back of your neck, you can almost forget that Bradley is even here.

But the thing is, Bradley is here. He’s here and so present and you’re gonna have to give your poor heart a break from beating so fast if you want to survive this weekend without having a stroke.

All the thought does is make you even more nervous (as if that’s even fucking possible at this point).

“Okay, kid. If we’re gonna be together all weekend, this,” he points his finger between you and him, “Ain’t fucking happening. We need to tallllkkkk.”

You swallow. “I -We are talking.”

“That’s not what I mean and you know it.”

“Okay,” you whisper sheepishly, your bare toe grinding into the carpet. The friction sends a wave of heat to your otherwise numb toes. It’s unconventional, but at least it’s helping you feel something other than anxiety.

He nods his head before standing up. His eyes glance at the gold watch on his left hand. “Well, it’s 2:30 and the rehearsal dinner is at 5. We need to get going if we wanna beat traffic.”

“Okay.”

He sighs, watched wrist coming down to lay his hand flat across his stomach. “Talking means more than just saying ‘okay.’ That’s not a conversation.”

You pause for a moment. The flowers he had brought still rest in between the crease of your inner elbow. More silence ensues. You just don’t know what to say.

He starts heading down your small hallway. The whiff of his cologne kickstarts your reaction.

“Hey!” you say, starting to stalk after him, “What the hell are you doing?”

He snickers. “Grabbing your bags? I was serious about getting a move on. Don’t want your folks to think your boyfriend is a slacker now, do ya?”

Bradley grabs the two bags you had struggled to set outside your bedroom door with ease. You never forget how strong he looks (oggling at a guy three days out of the six you work will do that to you) but you always seem to forget how strong he actually is.

You close your mouth before you begin to drool. Bradley will for sure be talking about this weekend with his friends and uncle. You don’t want to add any more embarrassing details to the story. Besides, your awkward preteen pictures from your mom’s Facebook hadn’t even been brought up yet. Some room needs to be saved for your utter humiliation.

Your feet slide into the pair of heels you had set aside before you scramble to grab your keys and purse. How Bradley can move so quickly is beyond your thinking capacity as you haphazardly take the needle off of your record. Your eyes do a quick sweep over your living room to make sure that everything is turned off so you won’t magically come home to a fire safety example at the conclusion of your weekend.

Now, if you can just make yourself stop feeling so jittery, you might be able to actually manage to fit your key into the lock of your front door.

After what feels like three years (and the embarrassment of knowing Bradley probably watched you struggle), the keys are stuffed back into your purse before you pause on your porch.

A black Ford F-150 sits curbside to your driveway. It doesn’t fit in with the SUVs and small sedans that make up the neighborhood you live in. You had never seen a car like this where you lived at all. Come to think of it, you had never seen this truck ever.

Doesn’t Bradley drive a Bronco?

Your eyebrows remain wrinkled with your puzzled expression as he rounds the back of the car; the resounding noise of the back door shutting makes his entrance known. He opens the passenger door for you and stands next to it.

He squints as he looks up at you. The sun is blazing and he forgot to grab his sunglasses from his side of the door.

“Cold feet?” he calls.

You start to head down the stairs and onto the pavement. “It’s seventy-six degrees. I think cold feet is kinda ill worded.”

“It’s a saying.”

The crossed arms over your chest signal your apprehension. Bradley stands before you, leaning against the truck and his arm slung on the top of the cab. He raises his brows at you and does a gentle motion of his head to the seat, inviting you to climb in. Even next to the large vehicle, he still looks. . .huge.

In a good way! In a good way. He’s actually really fit and I’m shaking inside and I’m sure I’m sweating and I have got to stop wearing light colors in front of him because he can probably see the sweat and - Oh God. Oh God, the seats are leather. What if I sweat all over them?

The lump in your throat is swallowed as you stand before him. “This isn’t your car,” you say lamely.

He scoffs. “Spying on me? Do you have my license plates memorized too?”

You know he’s teasing and that he doesn’t mean it literally, but you almost answer, “yes” because you do. Thankfully, you’re in the stage of your anxiousness where you clam up instead of puking your words out.

You cock your head to the side, eyes narrowed because of the bright sun.

“How do I know it’s not stolen? What if we get pulled over because it’s stolen?” you wonder, and then the word vomit picks up and - “ I can’t go to jail! I had nothing to do with it and the ABA is gonna pull my Bar application if we get arrested and I spent too much damn money and worked too damn hard to let an F-150 ruin it for-”

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters into a small laugh, “I know you love the Bronco,” he gives you a teasing look, “But the Bronco has no air and I figured that since we’re driving two hours on the highway, you would appreciate not having to ride with the windows down the entire time.”

“You still haven’t confirmed that it’s your car.”

“You know, for someone so smart, you are extremely bad at picking up on obvious context clues. Why the hell would I steal a pickup truck and then drive you to a wedding in it?”

You scrounge your brain for a reply. “. . .For the plot?”

He whistles and crosses his arms over his chest, mimicking your current stance. “Wow. I have a comedian for a date.”

“I’m serious. It could be a possibility!”

“Well I don’t think “felon” looks good next to “painstakingly handsome,” so I’ll pass.”

You remain standing in front of him. Stubbornness was a quality that your mother both loved and loathed and you know it, but Bradley has yet to see this side of you yet. Your arms wrap around your torso tighter and your eyebrows are raised every so slightly.

Bradley knows what you’re doing. He used to do it to Maverick all the time when he was growing up. You’re digging your heels in.

“C’mon. Don’t start poutin’ on me before I even get to disappoint you with my dancing,” he quips. He brings his face closer to yours before flashing you a toothy smile.

You sigh dramatically before letting him help you into the seat. The gentle “Atta girl,” he gives you pinkens your cheeks. You pray he won’t notice your flushed face when he sits on the driver's side of the car. Every interaction you’ve had with him has kept you tossing and turning at night because of your nervousness.

So many things you wish you could take back and so many ways you wish you could act normal; a never-ending cycle of “could’ve, would’ve, should’ve,” and the thought leaves a small seed of sadness in your stomach.

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ghostfaceorgirlfriend · 1 year

Note

hi hi!! can you write an ethan landry x reader where reader is very talkative and ethan kisses them to shut them up? not that he wants to interrupt but because he finds it so cute how social they are in comparison to his shy nature? ♥︎ i'm so sorry if this is vague, but if you want more details, maybe reader can be passionate about scary movies and talks about them just for funsies and irony ;} thank you!

Econ Notes ; Ethan Landry

summary: when you ask ethan for his notes from class he decides to finally make a move

pairing(s): ethan landry x fem!reader

warnings: fluff, kissing, scary movies mentioned

notes: hope you guys enjoy! send it more requests!!

pre-ghostface

masterlist requests

———————————————————————————

You approached Ethan’s door, gently knocking.

It didn't take long for the curly-headed boy to swing the door open, a smile making its way onto his face once he saw that it was you.

“Sorry I'm a little late, I couldn't find my keys.” You smiled sheepishly

Ethan stepped aside, letting you walk into his dorm. “It's okay, it gave me some extra time to pick up.” He nervously laughed as he shut the door behind you.

You had been in his dorm enough times to know that he and Chad weren't exactly pros at cleaning, but you appreciated the effort made by Ethan even though you didn't mind a messy dorm.

“Thank you again for letting me use your notes. I seriously don’t know what I'd do without you.” you looked up at him with a soft smile.

A subtle blush rose to his cheeks, “It's really no problem.”

Within a few minutes, Ethan had pulled out his notes from today and handed them over to you. The handwriting was messy, but not enough that you couldn't make out the words. You also noticed a couple doodles on the top of the page, probably drawn when he got bored.

“It shouldn't take me long to write these down.” Your voice was soft as you concentrated on jotting the notes down as quickly as possible.

As Ethan watched you scribble down the notes he began to get more nervous. After some convincing from his roommate, Chad, he decided that tonight would be the night he told you how he felt about you. He didn't have much experience with girls, but he knew if he didn't say something then he would end up regretting it. He just had to find the right time to do it.

It didn't take you long to write down the page of notes.

“Well, at least I missed class on a day when there weren't as many notes.” You closed your notebook and tossed it aside.

In all reality, you could have just asked Ethan for a picture of his notes, but you enjoyed the time with him. It had become a thing between the two of you to share notes, though you were both aware it wasn't really about the notes and more about finding a reason to see one another.

“You should really get your alarm fixed though.” He joked as he took a seat next to you on his bed.

You let out a quiet laugh, “I think I just need an alarm clock without the snooze button,” you paused for a moment, “actually it needs to be without an off button too.”

Ethan laughed, his nose wrinkling slightly.

You resisted the urge to tell him that he was cute when he laughed.

“Do you wanna watch a movie or something?” He suggested, not ready for you to leave yet.

Your eyes brightened, “Only if I can pick.”

“But you're gonna pick a scary movie. We watched a scary movie last week.” He groaned.

You thought back to last week when you had chosen to watch the first stab movie and Ethan had protested due to him ‘not liking scary movies’ although you assumed it was just because he was scared.

“Please?” You battled your eyelashes at him, jokingly.

“Fine.” He playfully rolled his eyes.

You jumped up from the bed in victory.

Ethan couldn't help but smile at your excitement, “Which scary movie is it gonna be this week?”

You wracked your brain, “Maybe we should go with another stab movie. Although they make the killers a little too obvious. I mean c'mon, how did Sidney not know the killer was Billy! Never trust the love interest. That's like one of the top five rules in scary movies.” She rambled as Ethan watched in amusement. He loved when she rambled.

“Don’t even get me started on the rest of the movies! The whole-.” you were cut off when Ethan impulsively leaned forward, connecting his lips to yours.

It only took a few seconds for the initial shock to wear off before you were moving your lips in sync with his. You had thought about kissing more times than once, but no thought could ever compare to what you were experiencing right now.

You both slowly pulled away, lips swollen.

“What was that for?” You asked, breathless

Ethan's cheeks were bright red, “I just- You're cute when you ramble.” he stuttered, settling on the truth.

You could now feel your own cheeks beginning to warm up, “Guess I should ramble more often.” you smiled before leaning back in for another kiss.

#ethan landry x reader #ethan landry #ethan landry x you #ethan landry x y/n #scream #scream vi #ghostface #jack champion #requested

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miam0re · 1 year

Note

really wanted to req for mc looking after the little D's while the demon brothers are watching them interact and thinking how good of a parent they would make (you could add some of the side characters if you're not too lazy)

i saw you take requests after i read some of your work so i just had to, I'd get it if you don't want to but if you do take you time

This sounds so cute uwu I wish I had more thoughts to pen down but my brain is absolutely scattered at the moment sooo :p (and yes I am a bit lazy so gonna just scribble down some thoughts about the demon brothers hueheuhue) I played around with the idea, changing it up a little bit so I hope that's ok! (Also I noticed you using 'they' so I'll try to keep this answer gender neutral, please tell me if I slipped up anywhere) (ps not proofread heheh just ideas dumped)

You and Little D | Demon Brothers

“Will you please. Stop. Talking.” The Little D of Pride was being so difficult with all its mindless yapping and screeching, Lucifer was about to literally throw the stupid mini demon out of the window…had it not been for you showing up to save the day!

All Little D wanted was to be heard about his amazing idea on how to decorate the ballroom for an upcoming event and Lucifer wasn’t bothered to give him any mind.

“Oh? Why don’t you tell me all about your ideas? I can’t wait to hear how awesome the are!”

Seeing you…leaning your chin you palm and listening intently to the little one, nodding eagerly and gasping in surprise at all its wonderful ideas…Lucifer felt his heart rate shoot through the roof

He quickly turned around to hide the growing redness on his pale cheeks, lest you actually catch him blushing at how sweet and loving you were…just like a parent

Perhaps it was too soon to be plagued with such thoughts- thoughts of you both having a little family of your own where you cared for your child just the way you cared for Little D-

“Ahem, I’ll be leaving now. Don’t bother yourself with listening to this thing for too long if you have your own matters to attend to.”

His heart skipped a beat when you shook your head, saying that you had more than enough time to spare to ‘your dearest little D’ You were going to be the death of him.

They were fighting like LITERAL CHILDREN!! Little D of Greed was flying around with Mammon’s precious credit card.

“YOU RASCAL!! COME BACK HERE WITH GOLDIE RIGHT NOW!” Mammon leapt across the room right as you walked into the weird scene

The oh so innocent Little D scampered into your arms and whined, crying about how Mammon was bullying him, who was quick to deny any such accusations

“Oh, is mammon being mean? Don’t worry, I’m here for you.” You nuzzled your nose against the smirking little demon and Mammon knew that he was supposed to be raging with jealousy but…wow, you were so gentle and the way you had Little D wrapped around your finger just the same way you had him…

How you hugged and comforted the cheeky little demon, Mammon started visualising you as a parent

Mammon was already down bad for you and this little sight was the cherry on top

“I wanna marry ya- I MEAN STOP SIDING WITH THAT LITTLE IDIOT”

Mammon was quick to dart closer to you, prying your hands off the Little D who had occupied all of your love and attention

“Hey now, there’s enough hugs for everyone here.” You laughed and wrapped one arm around Mammon and the other holding the demon

Wow, you were so mature, being able to handle two jealous demons fighting over your love

Yeah you’d definitely be perfect to handle mammon when you both have a child of your own

Leviathan isn’t really the most attentive to his surroundings when he’s immersed in his video games, especially if it is the latest first person game with his favourite character RURI CHAN!!

Which left the Little D of Envy starved for attention, pouting and poking at the purple haired man

“Stoppppp! Can’t you see I’m busy? Go find some other way to stay entertained.”

Sad little demon floats aimlessly until it reaches the lounge where you are resting on the couch, a Switch in your hand. You notice the sad little demon and smile at him, calling him over to sit on your lap.

An hour passed and Levi noticed the silence…he got up and out of his room as he started praying that Little D hadn’t gotten into any trouble

But what he walked into made his little gamer boy heart race

And excited Little D was on your lap with your Switch in hand as you cheered on him, screeching in happiness when he won first place in DemonKart. You both did a little synchronised dance, ending with a high five

Oh Levi’s otaku little heart couldn’t handle the heat travelling through his veins, seeing you be such a good parent like figure and omg maybe you guys could get married and have a little one of your own to play 3 player games with-

“Hey let me in on the gaming as well!!”

Satan wanted to give attention to the Little D of Wrath but he was far too focused on the spell books that lay open on front of him

“Why don’t you got…sort out my bookshelves? Go be useful.”

Little D was offended but he had to listen smh, but hey, Satan didn’t say anything about him not being allowed to recruit some extra help

And that’s where you came in, pulling us your sleeves and reading the spiral bindings of some of the hundreds of books in Satan’s room, finding the best category to put them in…until you saw the little demon reach for an unstable pile

“Wait! Little D! Be careful!!” A loud crash alerted Satan, who came running into the room

His eyes widened when he saw you on the floor, hugging and rocking a crying Little D back and forth, “Shhhh, it’s okay…you’re a strong one. You’ll be fine.” You comforted it, caressing the spot where the books fell on it

Satan’s heart did a backflip at your caring and affectionate nature. You had worry drawn all over your face as you held onto the little demon, giving it the support it needed in that moment…you would be the perfect parent

You were so much better than anything he could have imagined and making a family with you would be better than any fairy tale “Why don’t we all sort the books together, yeah? That will be better.”

“No no! You’re doing it all wrong! That is not how you apply mascara!” Asmo pouted at the Little D of Lust who had managed to yet again mess up Asmo’s makeup

The Little D frowned at Asmo’s uncharacteristic outburst, feeling helpless while floating out of the room.

“Hey, are you okay? I heard Asmo shout? Did he shout at you?” You showed up in front of the door, opening your arms for the sad little demon

You tapped your chin in thought when an idea clicked in your head “Why don’t I teach you some tricks, hmm?” The way the little demon’s eyes lit up made you smile even wider

Together in your room, you showed it the various techniques of applying makeup, ranging from mascara to blush to lipstick, till the demon had almost mastered the skills

Together, the two of you waltzed into Asmo’s room, showing off your beautiful face all thanks to Little D’s skills.

“Aw, did you teach Little D how to apply makeup? You look so good! You’re such a good teacher.” He pet the little demon’s head

Then Asmo’s face sparkled with the thought of how nurturing you would be as a parent

“Omg you would be such a wonderful parent when we have a child! You can teach them how to apply make up too! Wouldn’t that be perfect!!”

His unfiltered words made you blush and hide your face away from the thoughts of having a child with him

“Ughhhhh I’m so hungryyyyyy! I want foooooood!” Beel was once again whining about how hungry he was and unfortunately Little D of Gluttony was subject to his whining

Sad for Beel, Little D wasn’t exactly the most equipped in the kitchen, floating to the room and head spiralling with the number of cabinets and cooking equipment

Lucky for the mini demon, you walked into the kitchen, seeing it in its distressed state

“Why don’t you and I cook something together? That would be a good way to learn, yeah?” You offered, pulling out some pans to make the simplest thing you knew…pancakes

The little demon floated around and carefully listened to your instructions, laughing along with you when some batter accidentally spilled out of the mixing bowl or when you managed to land the perfect flip on the pan

“Mmmmm I can smell pancakes.” Beel, drawn buy the scent of the treat walked into the kitchen, stopping short in his tracks seeing you cooking with the demon

It was a sight right from heaven, his favourite human and his favourite demon doing his favourite activity (cooking something for Beel)

He smiled when the little demon laughed while pouring syrup and decorating the stack with berries, as per your instructions. His heart warmed at how parent-like you were when you high fived the demon and hugged it

“Oh Beel! Look what Little D and I made! Pancakes for you!”

Perhaps one day he would be walking in on seeing you making pancakes with a little one of your own.

The day was already quite tiring, Lucifer had told(more like ordered) Belphie to run some errands around Devildom, grocery shopping ughhh

All Belphie wanted to do was go into his blankets and fall asleep

He thought to himself, wondering what the Little D of Sloth would have been up to, all alone at home with nobody else to supervise

Honestly, if the little demon was anything like him, it would probably be in a deep sleep on the couch

When Belphie entered the living room, he noticed you on the couch and beamed at you, approaching to give you a big hug “Hey!-“

“Shhhhhhh! Little D is sleeping!” You loudly whispered at him, your tone sounding very much like a scolding

Belphie pouted and looked at your lap, the irritated feeling in his gut changing to a soft, loving sensation

Little D was asleep on your lap murmuring in sleep. You were stroking the little demon’s back and if you even dared to stop, it twisted and turned around violently till you gave it attention

“Little D is so much like you! If I stop stroking it, it would get mad!” You giggled when Belphie sat next to you, his thoughts straying to daydreams

Maybe one day the one of your lap will truly be someone like belphie, your child. You stroking the child’s hair who slept peacefully in your embrace.

Belphie blushed, leaning his face in your shoulder to hide himself from your gaze

“Can I rest on your shoulder for a while? I wanna dream a bit.”

Dream about having a life with you, making a family with you hehe.

#mia.mail #mia.writes #mia.scaramouchessimp.mail #obey me #obey me x reader #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me beelzebub #obey me asmodeus #obey me belphegor

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fullsunised · 11 months

Text

and love.

ɴᴄᴛ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍ¹ : ᴛʜᴇ ғɪʀsᴛ 'ɪ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ'

. ★彡 genre: fluff

. ★彡 trigger warnings: swear words

. ★彡 requests are being worked on, apologies for the delay

. ★彡 a/n: uh, this is gonna be like scenarios ig. imma do other groups as well changed my layouts and shit

❝ 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒂𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒎𝒆, 𝑰 𝒘𝒂𝒍𝒌 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒍𝒐𝒖𝒅𝒔❞

╰─▸ ❝ 愛 . . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ [ 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐋𝐄𝐄 ] ࿐ྂ

lyric making sessions in the studio were you're favourite. mark didn't have to hide what he felt in that room. the only room where you could be as intimate and honest as you want. today was another one of those sessions. it was 2 in the night- when both of you were exhausted from everything that happened for the whole day, your bodies demanding rest but your heads running on full power, because they knew today might be the last day you could spend time together considering you were going on tour. that would last you three long months.

"Do you think I should add...hmm let's see- oh do you think I should add like- uh I don't know", you groaned in frustration. the nerves in your brain working ay full capacity to put your feelings into words. but unfortunately for you that's not working. your boyfriend, mark chuckled softly. his fingers grazing the strings of his guitar. he strummed the instrument to release a melody that filled your heart with warmth.

how can him just doing the bare minimum fill your heart?

"What you looking at?", mark asked his eyebrows raised. you just grinned shaking your head. silence covered the room. you only have today until the next few months but none of you said a word. it could be that there was so much to say but so little time- or it could be that you have nothing to tell each other at all, after all, it's been 3 long years since you started dating.

you went back to scribbling ideas. nothing really striking your head. meanwhile, mark watched you. his eyes crying with love. he was so head over heels for you it wasn't even a joke anymore.

"Like the moon in the sky, you come to my mind every night"

you suddenly stated picking up words from every corner of your brain. mark looked down at you, sprawled on the floor from the couch with wide eyes before he rested his guitar aside and snatched the paper from you to write something. you waited impatiently. what was he doing for so long??? in less than five minutes mark was done writing.

you stood up from your seat and went next to him. mark gave you a wide grin later handing you the paper. your eyes scanned over the lyrics, the smile on your face growing wider and wider with every line you read. when you were done reading, you're eyes met his before disappearing and forming moons on either side.

mark felt his heart stop. is this what love meant? to adore the person so much that you feel like you're dying? he didn't know that. all he knew was the you in front of him will be the you he wants to be with forever. the three words that wretched his heart for so long finally left his lips.

the three words he's always been meaning to tell you, finally reaching you.

"I love you"

╰─▸ ❝愛 . . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ [ 𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐉𝐔𝐍 𝐇𝐔𝐀𝐍𝐆 ] ࿐ྂ

it was renjun's therapy day and you had no reason to be here except for the fact that you're boyfriend asked you to tag along. you were lead into an empty room full of white canvases. renjun was told to paint his feelings onto the whiteness. and it seemed like he was suffering greatly, because he couldn't put anything onto the blankness.

you sighed feeling every bit of your energy drain away by the passing minute. who would've known a therapy session can be so boring. a whine escaped your lips as your head fell onto the table. this wasn't your first attempt at complain but it seemed like every other one, this was ignored by your boyfriend too.

deciding its high time you show him how it's done, you picked up some brushes, some paints and a canvas opposite renjun to show him your talent. for the new few minutes or more like an hour, it was nothing but silence. both of you focusing on your pieces too much that nothing else mattered.

renjun was the first one to finish his- he started way before you anyways. it wasn't until now that he realised his girlfriend was also busy creating something herself. "What are you doing?", he asked only to he ignored. Guess karma is real after all. he took a seat and waited. he knew how easy it was to break your focus so he let you be.

but his eyes never left you. he observed every little detail about you. this image of you in an artist apron, with brushes in your hair, paint on your face, etching into his head forever. no matter how many times he looks at you, it still feels like the first time. he stopped breathing when that one strand of hair fell onto your face and you tried you're hardest to blow it away.

he could be dead right now, and he wouldn't mind it. when it seemed like you were done, he walked towards you. "Nah, show me your's first", you asked hiding your's away. he rolled his eyes turning his canvas to you. a blue sea, a couple standing in the water. it was breathe taking. you're boyfriend is talented, but not as much as you and you stood on that.

with a smug grin on your face, acting like you've just done the next revolutionary thing, you turned your painting to him. his eyes widened before he started laughing right in your face. your proud smug was replaced by a pout. "You're so mean. I tried my best!", you whined throwing your painting away and taking a seat.

renjun, who couldn't stop laughing sat next to you. his eyes watering, a hand on his stomach because why was his girlfriend the cutest and the dorkiest shit ever.

"You're so adorable, I love you"

╰─▸ ❝愛 . . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ [ 𝐉𝐄𝐍𝐎 𝐋𝐄𝐄 ] ࿐ྂ

it didn't take you two a minute to smash lips together. After not being able to see each other for almost 3 months or so, it was a reward to be around each other. jeno was busy with dream and their new comeback while you were just you, having so much on your plate.

pulling away for a spilt second, you connect lips again no wanting to let ago so easily. jeno pushed you against the wall, his hands resting on your exposed waist, rubbing soft circles while you two made out. that went on for about a few minutes, until the door bell rang.

a whine escaped your lips as soon as you retracted lips. he left to answer the door and collect the delivery he had ordered before coming over to your's. "Let's eat first, I know you're hungry", he stated leaving a soft peck on your lips.

you roll your eyes but give in, considering how your belly just rumbled. taking a seat on the couch, you played something on the huge TV that covered half of your wall. "I still can't get over your huge dorm", he said opening the boxes.

chuckling you take a bite of the fried chicken, a groan of pleasure leaving you instantly. jeno looked at you wide eyes, his gaze softening not long after, his eyes disappearing as he watched you eat. just you eating is filling his heart with warmth. your attention shifted to the screen, your favourite anime catching your eye.

"How many times will you watch Saiki.K?"

rolling your eyes, you shove another piece into your mouth. "Saiki is the love of my life", you state sighing proudly. jeno smiled at your antics, impressed with the way you were gobbling everything down. he adored you for every little thing you did, for how hard you worked, for how you smiled no matter what, for how you could light up a room with just a grin.

jeno before he had even realised, found himself wrapped around your fingers, his heart in your hands. he wasn't afraid of you breaking it, he was afraid of loosing it to you, permanently- which in his eyes again wouldn't be a bad thing. his eyes stayed on you, just you smiling at the screen, with a mouthful of food. his muscles moved faster than his brain could.

"Y/N, i love you"

╰─▸ ❝愛 . . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ [ 𝐇𝐀𝐄𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐋𝐄𝐄 ] ࿐ྂ

"mark said they'll be here in fifteen minutes", cyou hum pouring yourself a glass of water, chugging it down instantly. your eyes then drifted to your boyfriend, who had the biggest pout humanity has ever witnessed resting on his face, for the past twenty minutes or so. why? because he was upset, he has to leave and that he won't be able to see you for another week. a smile makes it way to you, cooing internally at how cute hyuck is being, but you'd never admit it, considering how he already has enough inflated ego.

reaching the couch, you take a seat next to him, spreading your legs on the table. donghyuck latches onto your arm, snuggling his head into your chest, a whine escaping his lips at your lack of response- desperation. cause he was desperate, trust him, very desperate to stay with you even for an hour or a minute longer. he was already planning ways to come see you in between practise, or to call you over during the middle of the night.

"Your comeback is soon you know", you reminded him while taking a bite of the chocolate he got you, as a present, today. he whined again, resting his head in the crook of your neck, the grip on your hand growing tighter because he doesn't want to let you go. when he could find all the comfort he needs, right next to you, with you in his arms, why is he putting all this hard work for? don't get him wrong, he loves his fans and his job, but you, the way he loves you was different, it was the love that made him crazy, like right now.

sighing, you ran your fingers through his hair. you truly loved hyuck with all your fucking heart, but if he didn't leave now, all your schedules- like a ton of them that were lined up for today would be paused, even worse cancelled. "Come on, we can see each other next weekend hmm", you tried persuading him but he wasn't listening. a tune of whines filled your ears, as he climbed onto your lap and locked you up with both his arms.

cupping his cheeks, you made him look at you. "sunshine, stop behaving like a kid-", he looked down refusing to meet your eyes. sighing you let a promise slip up, well, if it makes him happy then anything for him. "I'll come visit you someday in between, what do you say?", you offer only to find his face light up like the night sky. it was as if he's been waiting for you to make that statement. slapping his arm after seeing right through his antics, you point to the door that someone started knocking.

he looked at you, before pressing his lips against your's in a long, slow kiss, the one that would last him until however long you see each other again. you smile against his lips, feeling all your energy drain right under his touch. donghyuck pulled away with his heart running miles an hour, his stomach full with butterflies, and the overwhelming feeling of you surrounding him. you wait considering how he was still sprawled on your lap, and he says the words you'd definitely grow to adore.

"I love you"

╰─▸ ❝愛 . . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ [ 𝐉𝐀𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐍 𝐍𝐀 ] ࿐ྂ

"I'm so tired, I'm sorry", jaemin whispered in your ear, his arms wrapping themselves around your back while he watched you cook your dinner for today. you give him a soft smile, kissing his cheek later turning your attention back to the food that was sizzling on the pan. "It's okay. don't worry about it". his grip around you tightened, his chin now resting on your shoulder. jaemin felt really bad, you were tired and top of that you promised to cook him food.

as one of the best cooks known to the industry, he was more than happy to have you cook for him, feeling utmost blessed for having you on his side, closer than everyone else. "You know, our company is making me cook for all of my close friends, it's a new content for my youtube channel", your soft voice flew into his ears making him grin widely. with his eyes closed he hummed. "Will you be able to handle that?". you nodded plating the two side dishes you've prepared. "It's okay, even though i'm an idol I love feeding people", you state taking a bite of the ramen you cooked. with the same chopsticks, you fed jaemin some, who groaned at the taste.

"It's just ramen"

he shook his head pulling you closer if that's possible. silence fell over you two, the comfort feeling too good to be true, which it was considering how you had to run again to make schedules. "I'm so proud of you", he suddenly muttered drowning the back of your neck in soft kisses. chuckling you wiggle under his touch, feeling the tickles spread all over your spine. "That was random". he gave you the widest grin, turning you on your heels to make you face him. his eyes stayed in you for a second longer, taking every part of you into his brain. making sure to leave it there permanently, just like he left every part of you in his heart. you wrapped your arms around his torso, smiling.

his lips softly touched your's, jaemin pouring every ounce of love from all his cells into you, for you. you've never imagined yourself to fall so hard for someone, to look forward to touching someone so much, that your heart physically hurt from it- jaemin could say the same too, every part of him yearned to hold you, touch you. this magical feeling was just enough to keep you two going. pulling away, he let his eyes linger again. from your eyes to your lips to your nose. "I'm like so proud of you, thank you for doing so good, and thank you for being mine", he whispered into the tiny space that separated you. "I know, and I am too", you give him the widest of grins he had ever seen, the one that he had on his face right now.

jaemin knew he didn't have to look far, to find you, the one he'd give his forever to.

"I love you"

╰─▸ ❝ 愛 . . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ [ 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐋𝐄 𝐙𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐆] ࿐ྂ

chenle was nervous. like his heart is slowly sinking down to his feet, his brain rotting away with every time the long hand on the clock he has been staring at since the past three hours moved. according to your manager, you were meant to be home at 12AM but it was two now, and you were no where to be seen. sure, he had sent you multiple texts, he even texted your manager to find out how long until you were home, but none of you replied. no, he wasn't nervous because he was worried what would've happened to you, but he was nervous because of the ring that stood on the table in front of him.

no, he isn't planning to ask you out. considering how you had been dating for only about a year or so, he knew asking you out, engagement were very far away, but he also knew you were the one he'd be spending the rest of his life with, whether you like it or not, but either way that wasn't the point. the point was, when he was on his world tour, he stumbled upon this couple rings set, which without a doubt he found absolutely stunning, therefore he bought it. he has, after a lot of convincing from himself, decided to give it to you today.

ha! as on cue, he heard the passcode on your door being typed. with a long sigh, you walked in to find chenle judging you real hard. "What?", you asked taking your shoes off, later dropping your bag onto the floor and falling onto the couch. with the reflex faster than lightning, he pulled the ring into this pocket, without you noticing it. "Why are you this late?", he interrogated crossing his arms. you rolled your eyes, tying your hair up, feeling all sticky. "the practise, had to go longer cause we had to change some steps", you state ready to take a shower. he gives you a green signal letting you leave while he battled with his own nerves.

in less than twenty minutes, you walked out, your hair tied up. "Did you eat?", you question pouring yourself some water. he nodded, slipping the ring box onto your couch. quenching your thirst, you rush to fall into his arms, the desperation for peace evident in your actions. chenle chuckles letting you it on his lap, his arms secured around you. "I missed you", you whispered kissing his chin. he nods causing you to lift your eyebrows up in question. the boy was pissing his pants but he knew he had to do it. taking the ring he once hid, he put it in front of you. your eyes widen as soon as he opens the box, two very similar looking rings coming into your vision.

"Y/n, I think you're the best thing that has ever happened to me, so I want you to have this. this is a promise I make- to have you by my side forever. if you say no, I'm gonna be so embarrassed so your gonna have to give me a minute-", he started rambling on and on, the point he was trying to make lost. your smile widened, before you stretched your hand out. chenle breathed of relief, all the drained blood coming back to him. after slipping the ring on your finger, he slapped your arm.

"What was that for?", you screech offended. "For scaring me", he mumbled sticking his tongue out earning an eye roll from you. "Also, I forgot to mention-", you perk your ears up looking at him.

"I love you"

╰─▸ ❝ 愛 . . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ [ 𝐉𝐈𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 ] ࿐ྂ

"Is this your new comeback?", you question sitting in front of the mirror watching as your boyfriend practised. jisung nodded scrolling over to play the song, he has been practising for the past two hours again. your eyes never failed to follow his every movement, like he never failed to impress you with his skills. he didn't even if you blinked miss a beat, hitting each and every one of them perfectly. you knew jisung was unmatched with his talent, he was for sure one of the best dancers in the industry. which is why precisely, the competitive spirit inside you hit.

while he danced, you stood next to him and copied each of his movements, and you almost succeeded, this one step casually being your downfall. your eyebrows knit together in concentration, your hands copying and playing the same move over and over again, but something definitely felt wrong. jisung who had now paused his practise, watched you, a lovestruck smile plastered on his face. "What the fuck", you curse before adding numbers to the step, hoping it would make you learn the step better but it didn't.

jisung watched you struggle, cooing and smiling at your adorable self. his eyes stayed on you, also, using his phone to click pictures of the very concentrated you because that was a rare sight to see. y/n, the idol who was good at everything was struggling, oh, he's definitely using that to make fun of you later, and perhaps uploading it on bubble for your fans to see too. a groan left your lips, frustration evident on your features, the urge to give up filling you up. "Do you need help?", he asked chuckling. you shake your head, wanting to figure it out for yourself, but failing miserably.

he lets you do it for another twenty minutes, until you turn to him, your eyes pleading for help because anything and everything you wasn't working. letting out a soft, but deep voiced laugh, that never failed to mess with your insides, jisung plays that part of the song to brainstorm how he did it. "It's really simple, do this, that and yeah, that", he demonstrated and the step you have been struggling with for the past thirty minutes, became the easiest step to ever exist. you replicated what he showed exactly, and it worked.

"You're a genius baby", you breathe doing that step over and over in excitement. jisung grinned with pink ears, the ability to stay flustered around you taking action. you ran to play the song again, and this time both of you did it all perfectly. you cheered latching onto his arm, the smile on you bright enough to light up a whole room. while watching you being cheeky, jisung had realised what you truly meant to him- a home, a warm, safe space where he could be all he wanted. you genuinely filled him with happiness, when he was around you all he wanted be was a lovestruck teenager. with you still around his figure, jisung whispered the words which lit up your eyes.

"I love you"

𝗙𝗨𝗟𝗟𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗜𝗦𝗘𝗗.

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