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avocad1s · 4 days

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Trial By Combat - 6

Requested By: No one. Original Work

CW: manipulation?

Summary: Arlecchino’s got a secret…

Note: You all asked and I will provide! Here’s part six <3 this chapter is a bit slow but I promise it’s leading up to something great!

Part One —> Part Five

Fontaine, for the most part, had finally begun to go back to normal. Although no trials have been held since the Creators trial, many shops have reopened their doors to the public once more. It’s as if Fontainians want to disregard the event entirely, treating it as a work of fiction like the Prophecy. However, this doesn’t stop The Steambird from posting every single update regarding the Creator, nor does it stop every copy from selling out.

Despite the lack of trials, it hasn’t prevented the Chief Justice from sending criminals to the Fortress of Meropide, and only hours from now, Paimon and Aether would be a part of the group sent there. The two were the only customers dining at Cafe Lutece this afternoon, the owner seemed almost eager to provide the gluttonous amount of food the duo had ordered.

“Oh Paimon is feeling a bunch of nerves right now and it’s just making her more hungry.” She whines while rubbing her stomach. “I’m just hoping that the food in the Fortress is actually tasty.”

Aether lets out a soft chuckle, “it’s a prison Paimon. I doubt that the food will be any good”

Paimon pouts crossing her arms. “Hopefully will be rightfully compensated for our due diligence. Oh! Maybe even something from the Creator themselves!”

The traveler gives her a look, “you shouldn’t think like that Paimon, not when they are currently missing right now.”

The travel guide immediately covers her lips, muttering out a small apology.

“Speaking of the Creator,” Paimon says, “do you really think Childe might know something? I mean, we’ve heard how he’s talked about them before.”

It was true, during their time in Liyue when they had met Childe, he had expressed how heavily he revered the Creator. Not just him, all of the harbingers they’ve met have mentioned the Creator in a positive light. Aether even recalls when the Wanderer told him that the only thing all of the harbingers could agree on was their ultimate respect for them.

“Based off our interactions with the Fatui before, they might have some respect for Their Grace. But we still have no idea why they want the Gnosis, maybe it’s connected to the Creator.”

Paimon nods in agreement. “You’re right. If the gnosis are what connect the Archons to Celestia, then maybe the Creator has something similar?”

“Hopefully if the Fatui got their hands on Their Grace, they haven’t left Fontaine yet. We should still be able to rescue them.” Aether adds.

“Paimon hopes so too! Oh I can only imagine the type of horrors they could be putting them through!”

“Are you talking about Their Grace?!”

A familiar girl with a pink bob holding a camera in her head pops out of a bush quickly approaching the table. It was Charlotte, and she had a large smile on her face.

“Do you two have any nuggets of information about Their Grace? Oh please share it with me, I’ll make it worth your while!”

Paimon and Aether share a look before looking back at the journalist.

“We don’t have any new information on The Creator.” Paimon explained, “we didn’t even know they had returned until Monsieur Neuvillette told us.”

Charlotte makes a look of surprise, “wait seriously? It was such big news! I’m sure everyone in Teyvat wrote the piece I had written.”

Charlotte places her camera on the table taking a seat across from them. “I’m just hoping for Their Grace to have a speedy recovery. I would love to interview them if they let me, it just seems like all of the big names in Fontaine never have the time for an interview. Monsieur Neuvillette and the Duke of Meropide have been on the top of my list for ages now!”

“Oh right, you’re a journalist Charlotte! ” Paimon exclaimed, “do you have an information about the Duke?”

Charlotte ponders for a moment, “not really, just the same regurgitated information I get from people who leave the Fortress. Why do you ask?”

“We actually are going to the Fortress later today.” Aether answers.

Charlotte’s eyes get as big as saucers as she’s jumping in her seat. “You two are going to the Fortress?! Will you two please get some information about the Duke for me?

Noticing the restrained looks on their face, Charlotte quickly adds, “I’ll pay for your meal! Yeah…! Let’s make it a deal, you get information on the Duke for me and this meal of yours is on me!”

Paimon grins, “it’s a deal!”

Charlotte shares Paimon’s enthusiasm as she pulls out a small bag of mora ready to pay for the meal. At that moment, the owner returns with multiple plates and bowls filled with various amounts of entrees and desserts wheeling it to the table.

“H—how much did you order…?”

———

Many journalist stood outside of the Palais Mermonia demanding answers from their Archon who had entered the building earlier that morning. Luckily, gardes stood outside preventing anyone from entering.

Inside of the chief justice’s office was him, the God of Justice, and the Champion Duelist whose hair was damp with sea water.

“I checked the surrounding area,” Clorinde says, “there is no traces of Their Grace anywhere. The only logical conclusion is that the Fatui must’ve done something with them.”

Neuvillette nods. “Thank you for looking Clorinde, your help is appreciated.”

Clorinde nods, “it’s no trouble. We all want Their Grace to be found safe and sound.”

Furina had a worried look on her face as she paces back and forth in the office. “W—what are we supposed to do now? We looked all over Fontaine and they aren’t anywhere.”

“Lady Furina.”

Furina stops pacing, turning her gaze over to Neuvillette who looked calm considering the situation. “I think it’s time to meet with the Kanve, wouldn’t you agree?”

“T—that Knave?” Furina stammers, “ha, why would we meet with her? Don’t we have more important things to worry about?”

Neuvillette clears his throat, “until we find Their Grace, we must operate like normal. If the others find out that we lost Their Grace—“

Furina lets out a breath putting on a confident stance, “yes! Right of course!” She interrupts, “I was thinking the same thing… I will prepare for the two of us to discuss relations with her as soon as possible.”

“Who said that I would be joining you?”

Focalors lets out a short gasp as she quickly approaches his desk, her gloved hands balling into fists. “Y—you expect me to attend the meeting alone! No! You must go with me!”

Neuvillette closes his eyes as he shake her head, “I must focus all my attention on the Creator, we must locate them before the rest of Fontaine and Teyvat begin asking questions. As the Archon, this is something you should be able to handle. Correct?”

Furina tenses slightly but lets out a sigh. “But… wouldn’t attending the meeting be the best thing for Their Grace?”

Neuvillette furrows his brows, “What do you mean?”

Furina’s confident flair was back just as quickly as it dissipated, “Attending the meeting will give us the chance to indirectly interrogate the harbingers before she even knows that we suspect her.”

Noticing the look on the chief justice’s face, Furina lets out a boastful laugh. “Naturally I, the God of Justice, would be the first one to think of this! Worry not Neuvillette, I believe that after this meeting, the truth shall be revealed!”

Clorinde mutters how she needed a towel and Neuvillette lets out a sigh.

“Very well... I will participate in the meeting.”

In between Fontaine’s Lumidouce Harbor and Chenyu Vale, a large ship was anchored the familiar insignia imprinted in the sail. There was a plethora of Fatui agents stationed on the ship that it was overwhelming, it would be impossible to infiltrate the ship without being spotted.

Many of the agents weren’t even aware why there was such an urgency to return to the homeland. Curious glances and whispers spread throughout the ship like wildfire, wondering what could the Knave possibly be doing in the lower deck that no one else was allowed to enter unless they brought news from Fontaine. All of them knew better than to question their harbinger, but she hadn’t been seen since the night before.

“Your Grace.”

Arlecchino’s soft voice cuts through your thoughts. Fontaine was in danger and you were the only one who could help, at least that’s what she believed. It was only a matter of time before the nation was completely wiped off the map, Lady Furina has done nothing but bury her head in the sand.

You glance at her face, despite her sharp features she still had a soft yet powerful air around her. Maybe that’s why the children from the House of the Hearth trust her so much.

“Are you hungry? I have chefs on board, they can prepare anything you desire.” Her hand rested on top of yours, her long nails rubbing against your knuckles in a comforting way.

You were famished. You knew she was capable of, but she was making you feel so welcomed. It felt as if you could trust her, tell her anything and she would understand.

You nod slowly and she smiles.

“I’ll be right back.”

She stands up from her spot next to you leaving the room. Her luscious black and white hair that was pulled into a low ponytail flowed behind her. Arlecchino returned quickly letting out a soft sigh.

“They are preparing a Snezhnayian specialty, the food is quite delicious. I hope it’s to your liking” She commented placing her hand right back on top of yours.

“We will be heading towards Snezhnaya at sunset.” She says. “Although leaving Fontaine wasn’t originally apart of my plan, but considering the circumstances, changes had to be made.”

You furrow your brows. “The circumstances?”

Arlecchino nods. “Your power…or rather, lack there of.”

“I have a colleague, I do not trust nor like him very much but I cannot deny his intelligence, I believe he may be able to figure out the answer… or even Her Majesty may know.”

So there was a colleague within the Fatui who had extreme intelligence that might be able to help you. Maybe he would even know why you were healing so quickly? Or does that tie into your “godly” abilities too?

“Is that why we are leaving so quickly? Because of my supposed amnesia?” You ask.

The Knave shakes her head, “not necessarily. It’s mainly for your safety, you don’t wish to stay in a nation that tried to kill you, right Your Grace?”

You were forced into a corner with that question. Wanting to stay in a nation that almost killed you was bad, but wanting to go to a nation that had the capability to kidnap you wasn’t any better. Yet you had to pick your poison, and in that moment you decided—

“Right.” You reply. “Leaving Fontaine is the smartest option.”

“I knew that you would see it my way,” she praises, “I only want what’s best for you and all of Teyvat.” She gives your hand a squeeze a small smile spreading on her red lips.

A small knock on the door interrupts the moment, Arlecchino looks at the door her gaze becoming icy. “You may enter.”

The door opens and a young lady whose face is obscured by a mask enters and she immediately kneels.

“Y—your Grace… Lady Harbinger.” Her voice was almost breathless, her gaze transfixed on you. “I have news from Fontaine.”

Arlecchino lets out a sigh crossing her legs. “News? What is it?”

“Focalors has agreed to have a political meeting with you. The chief justice Neuvillette will also be attending.”

The Knave doesn’t even try to hide the smirk that spreads on her face, “Very well then. Was there a time mentioned for this meeting?”

“In the next few hours Lady Harbinger. We’ve already got a boat ready to return back to Fontaine’s harbor.”

Arlecchino stands, her gaze becomes soft once more when she looks back at you. “Your Grace, I will return as soon as I can. If you have any needs anyone on the ship will be more than happy to serve you.”

She exchanges a few whispers with the agent before giving you one last smile leaving the bottom deck. The agent looks at you one last time before stuttering out.

“I—I’ll go get your meal immediately Your Grace!” She rushes out of the door leaving you alone once more.

The Fortress of Meropide was more grand than Aether had anticipated. Surrounded by Fontaine’s sea, there was no escape from this prison besides the path they embarked, which was at the rear of the Opera Epiclese.

After heaving their mugshots taken, Aether and Paimon are escorted onto a ship where they meet their tour guide, who is also just another prisoner within the Fortress. The entire tour he was standoffish and dry only giving the required amount of information. If the two asked for more information about credit coupons, secret rules, or about the Creator, he would say they’d have to pay for that.

The prisoner leads the two down the large hallway of the Fortress when multiple gardemeks came around the corner. The traveler immediately takes a stance ready for a fight when a voice eases his worries coming around the corner with the machinery.

“Welcome to the Fortress of Meropide,” the man greets. He had dark clothing and dark hair with a scar under his eye.

“Y—your Grace!” The tour guide quickly says, his standoffish nature immediately disappears. “Lovely weather we’re having!”

The man glances over at the tour guide, “Hm? Oh yes, I guess the weather is nice. If we could see it.”

The prisoner lets out an awkward laugh as the Duke looks back at Paimon and Aether. “I’m Wriothesley, but you can call me Your Grace.”

“You’re the Duke of Meropide?” Paimon asks in a shocked tone. Wriothesley nods.

“So, how was your tour?” He asks, “was everything up to standard?”

Aether glances as the tour guide for a moment before giving Wriothesley a firm nod. “Yep. No complaints here.”

“Wonderful.” Wriothesley smiles, “I think we should be able to reward you with more credit coupons then?”

“T—thank you Your Grace! Thank you!” The tour guide says. He then looks over at the traveler, “and thank you for such kind words! If you ever need anything! Anything at all! Please come find me!”

Once he rushes off, the Duke turns his attention back onto the newcomers.

“So, is it normal for you to greet all newbies in person like this?” Paimon asks.

Wriothesley lets out a soft laugh. “No it’s not. I just heard that you two were friends with Neuvillette so I figured I finish the tour myself.”

“Wait, how do you know that?” Aether questions.

“The Fortress might look like it’s cut off from the rest of the world but word still travels fast. Just like what happened to Their Eminence.”

Paimon glances at the traveler briefly. Wriothesley continues, “Many people in the Fortress were ready to leave just for a chance at seeing the Creator. But since they are still in the hospital recovering, I managed to keep them under control.”

“What else do you know about the Creator?” Aether asks.

“Nothing really.” He responds, “I haven’t had the time to leave the Fortress and go visit them myself. Unless you’re talking about the basic information, there’s books all around the Fortress that can tell you that.”

Wriothesley continues on with the tour, showing the where the so-called cafeteria was, the Pankration Ring, and where they would report to work everyday. He also mentions Sigewinne, the nurse who looks after anyone who gets hurt or sick.

Lastly, he shows them where they’ll be sleeping. As he explains the procedures for their room, Aether gazes falls onto someone walking nearby. An oddly familiar magician.

Lyney stops walking and looks back at him, but once Wriothesley notices, Lyney lets out a soft laugh doing a dramatic bow.

“Well hello there Your Grace! It’s lovely to see you out of your office!”

Wriothesley crosses his arms, “it’s good to see you too, but shouldn’t you be reporting to work?”

The magician gives him a cheeky smile as he stands back up, “of course! That’s where I was heading right now! But these two must be very important to get a personal tour from the Duke himself.”

Wriothesley says nothing in response but Lyney quickly excuses himself, his gaze falling onto Aether once more before walking out of sight.

“Come on,” Wriothesley says, “there’s one last stop I’d like to make.”

———

The three sit at one of the tables in the cafeteria, the chef bringing over three welfare meals. They remove the lids revealing the delectable meals inside causing Paimons mouth to water.

“Oh is this what the food is like in the Fortress?” She rubes her hands together, “Paimon could get used to this!”

“Actually, I managed to pull a few strings to get this meal, after today, you might not get another meal like this.”

The fairy didn’t seem to be paying attention as she keeps shoving more food into her mouth. The traveler rolls his eyes at his companion, looking back at the Duke.

“So you said there was books in the Fortress about the Creator?” Aether asks, his fork pushing around his meal mindlessly.

Wriothesley nods. “There are groups within the Fortress to make people feel more welcome or comfortable. There’s quite a few revolved around Their Eminence. Prayer groups, wanting a stronger relationship, or just normal worship in general, they’re actually pretty popular.”

Paimon swallows the food in her mouth, “How do you feel about them?”

Wriothesley ponders for a second, “I don’t know anyone who has a negative view on Their Eminence, including myself. I would be honored to go up to the surface soon and share a cup of tea with them.”

Aether didn’t say anything in response, but he had a feeling that Wriothesley knew more about the Creator than he let on. He did say word travels fast from the surface, is it possible he already knows the Creator is missing?

“Anyways,” Wriothesley says, “I have other things to attend to, enjoy your time in the Fortress and try not to cause any trouble.”

The Duke gives one last farewell, leaving the table without another word. Aether and Paimon continue eating their welfare meals preparing themselves to adjust to their new situation and figure what exactly Childe may know about the Creator.

———

“You were right.”

In a dark corner of the Fortress, the twins from the House of the Hearth spoke in quiet whispers.

“Paimon and the Traveler, I just saw them.” Lyney explained.

Lynette’s ear lay flat on her head, her tail swaying slightly. “Monsieur Neuvillette must’ve told them and they’re here to investigate.”

“We have to do what Father told us to do.“ Lyney adds, “although playing ignorant to figure what they know won’t hurt either.”

Lynette lets out a sigh. “…and what about Tartaglia?”

Lyney shrugs, “what about him? He’s not here. We have to focus on the Creator. Without Their Grace, the Fatui won’t be able to—“

“I know.” Lynette interrupts. “Let’s just focus on the traveler for now.

“I must say, the timing of this meeting seems almost convient…” Arlecchino narrows her gaze as she brings her teacup up to her lips.

“I’ll just cut straight to the chase. I’m here about my colleague, Childe and of course, Their Grace.”

The table inside of Neuvillette’s office was covered in sweets from Snezhnaya, something the Kanve brought to ease the tensions within the meeting. Yet, it doesn’t seem to be working.

“Childe was declared innocent by you, the Iudex, yet was still given a guilty verdict by the Oratrice…” Arlecchino explains, “and only days after that, you declare that Their Grace is an imposter and almost kill them.”

Furina shifts uncomfortably in her seat, “Y-yes… we are aware of our… transgressions. The Creator is being well looked after and is healing quite quickly.”

Arlecchino perks up, “Oh? They are? So is it possible for me to see them for myself?”

“That won’t be possible at the moment, I apologize.” Neuvillette quickly adds in.

Arlecchino brings a forkful of cake up to her mouth as she lets out a scoff. “An outright refusal? I must say, I am surprised…”

Neuvillette crosses his arms, “this meeting wasn’t called to talk about Their Grace, but rather Mr. Tartaglia, correct?”

“That is correct. Then am I able to enter the Fortress to check on the wellbeing of my colleague?”

“That also won’t be possible.”

Arlecchino sighs, “so I cannot see Their Grace and I cannot see Childe. What exactly will this meeting accomplish?”

“We already have a course of action for Their Grace.” Focalors adds, “but we cannot share it with you or any other nations for now. This meeting was just a… common courtesy”

“And as for Mr. Tartaglia I am investigating matter.” The chief justice adds.

“A common courtesy?” The Knave questions, “everyone in Teyvat is wondering just what exactly will Fontaine do after committing the biggest sin known to man… and all you can say is that it’s confidential? Not to mention the prophecy you refuse to address.”

Furina shoves another bite of cake into her mouth, scooting her chair closer to Neuvillette.

“As long as Their Grace is in our nation, they are under our jurisdiction.” Neuvillette explains.

Arlecchino clicks her tongue. “A disappointing outcome indeed… but I cannot say I am shocked.”

Arlecchino finished her tea, “the Fatui is willing to extend our help if you need it. You all seem to have a lot on your plate at the moment. Maybe it’s best to pass some of the responsibility onto someone else?”

“That won’t be necessary.” Neuvillette states.

The Knave stands from her seat, brushing her bangs out of the way, revealing her red X eyes. “I think it’s safe to say this meeting is concluded, I have to return back to Snezhnaya immediately.”

Furina raises a brow, “returing so soon? W—why such a rush to leave?”

It falls silent in the room for a few seconds.

“Her Majesty cares very dearly about the Creator, I am expected to report any and all news directly to her.” Arlecchino explains, her back facing the two.

“Snezhnaya as a whole cares deeply about Their Grace, and once they heal completely we will welcome them with open arms… not a trial.”

Focalors looks down at her lap as Arlecchino leaves the office returning to her ship anchored near the border of Fontaine and Liyue. A sinister smile spread on her lips while Neuvillette and Furina sit in the office in silence, a sour taste lingering in their mouth even with the baked goods in front of them.

Note: Good luck to all my Arlecchino wanters! I got her and her sig weapon so I give all my luck to you <3

Tagging: @bittersweetorpheus @esthelily @tempestlart @angelofdarkness2 @mmeatt @dxprived4-starboys @Itm-acct @honey-lemonz @ymechi @nervouseaglelover @livelaughlovekuni @vianitry @vvyeislazzy @kbar1013 @ichiraku-verse @chaoticfivesworld @mabvo @noahrandom @haunts-gh0st @pix-stuff @riiriin @emmbny @shiki-jin @ra404 @leekingsman @ash1 @mahi-does-some-art @bitchyfanfics-posts @emilymikado @sarah22447 @swagbucksjester @nex-crowley @iruiji @cloise @scalyalpaca @game-savvy @dreamlessnight @myluckymoon @luxie963 @spffldlbrnf @missnella-nova

I know it’s been a while so if you want to be removed let me know!!

#genshin cult au #sagau #genshin impact sagau #genshin sagau #sagau x reader #self aware genshin

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sadesluvr · 4 months

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"Santa, Baby" - A Mike Schmidt blurb

After years of hating the holidays, Mike gets a Christmas miracle.

A/N: Merry Christmas / Happy Holidays everyone! 🎄✨ This is just me writing a silly little blurb bc I’m sad yet obsessed with the idea of spending the season with Mike and Abby. They deserve the world :’)

Set in the 2000’s like the movie.

Word count: 463

Tags: FLUFF / GN! Reader / Not much really / Mike gets to be happy for once

Mike couldn’t remember the last time he enjoyed Christmas. It was no secret that it was difficult for him, working a minimum wage job with two mouths to feed didn’t leave much room for luxury dinners or fancy gifts, but it didn’t mean they didn’t try. They always put up a tree, a few decorations, and Abby got at least one present…Other than that, they spent the actual day watching whatever was on TV and listening to the radio. Then, he was usually back to work in a few days.

He hated not being able to give Abby the holiday she deserved. It killed him to think that the kids at her school would talk about all the cool things they got, whilst she got barely anything.

He couldn’t even remember the last time he received a present.

This Christmas was different. It was his first with you, someone who happened to have money at your disposal. Ever since you'd visited their house, you’d made efforts to turn it into a home - replacing the curtains, buying a new fridge - even spoiling Abby with art lessons. At first, Mike had been hesitant; but he saw the way that Abby smiled just a bit brighter, and the way slept just a bit easier, and slowly gave into the idea of being spoiled.

“Open it!” You buzzed, Santa hat bobbing slightly as you handed a large box to him, Abby engrossed in her new toy, but glancing up briefly to watch the interaction. Mike raised an eyebrow, blushing even at the idea of having a gift. Slowly, he tore off the wrapping paper, and his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he realised what it was.

“It’s a PS2!” you buzzed happily. “I remember you talking to me about how much you loved to game and had an NES when you were a teenager…I know memories of that time aren’t the best, but maybe you can make new ones..?”

Mike felt the tears well in his eyes, clenching his jaw as he trembled.

You’d listened to him. Not only had you listened, but you’d remembered. You’d cared enough to go out of your way and get something that connected his past and present, when you could’ve just as easily got a cashmere sweater.

He felt twelve years old again; wasting hours in front of a tiny TV, shoving popcorn into his mouth as a gamed. His mom never understood the appeal.

With shaky hands, he looked up at you. You’d even bought him a game alongside it.

Smiling, you felt your heart break just a little, but you could see that he was practically screaming thank you.

“Go ahead,” you smiled, watching as Abby rushed over to admire Mike’s new gift. “I’ll watch the food,”

#florence writes!!#mike schmidt x reader #mike schmdit x gn!reader #mike schmidt x male reader #fnaf x reader #fluff #fnaf fluff #mike schmidt x reader fluff

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sweetlittlegingy · 1 year

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What If

☑︎Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Sweet Nothings Masterlist

☑︎ Pairing: Jake Seresin x Y/n Seresin (Mitchell)

☑︎ Word Count: 4 k

☑︎ Warnings: Infertility, IVF, Adoption, Dad!Jake, Teacher/Mom!Reader, Kindergarteners, bad foster parents, child neglect, fluffy dagger squad, Poppa Mav

☑︎ A/n: Holy shit, I had the hardest time writing this. Life has not been kind lately in the school sense and health sense, but I still wanted to give you guys something. I hope that my month long stent has made it so you won't read it. I really appericate the love that you all have been giving me. I can't promise that updates are going to become a regular thing as of yet, but will be trying my hardest. Love you all ♥︎

☑︎Library (Follow for updates! I no longer have a taglist.)

The pitter-patter of feet running down the hallway has you looking up from the fruit bowl you're curating, to glance over your shoulder and catch sight of Laine running toward you as Bradley chases her. Her tiny body clings to your bottom half as she tries to squish in between you and the cabinet.

“Chicken, nooooo!” her small form shakes in laughter as he bends down at your side and pokes at her.

“I was promised a princess.”

Bradley’s voice tries to lower an octave though does the complete opposite and rises to a high squeak that makes you break out in laughter. Your heart swells at the sight, Bradley would make a wonderful uncle. He was already the best brother you could have asked for and since yesterday on base, he had quite literally had Laine on his hip or playing together at every moment.

Gray was never far away, though he tended to stay at neither Bob, Jake, or Javy’s side. You were so used to Gray being attached to you that seeing him interact so much with the squad was startling. You miss your little shadow, though seeing the way that he looked at Jake now was something that you would love to witness daily. Jake had told you that they just talked about planes, but you could see that it meant so much more to both of them.

The munchkin between your legs moves again, darting from Bradley’s outstretched hand as she giggles in excitement.

“I’m Jakey’s princess,” The reply stumps Bradley momentarily, long enough for her little hands to find your own. “Miss CeCe save me!”

Her hands pat at your tummy in a little rhythm as she bounces lightly on her toes. You gently slide the fruit bowl back and lower down to grab the munchkin before Brad can make another grab for her. Her small form bounces in your hold as she wraps her arms around your neck and nuzzles in.

“Run Miss CeCe!” She eyes you in excitement and you drop your gaze back to Bradley, before giving him a smirk. Your hips swivel as you turn and your arms clutch onto a giggling Laine as you run away.

“Get the fruit bowl, Chicken!”

You hear a playful huff at the name, though you’re past the hallway entryway and heading for the back deck before Bradley has a chance to yell back at you. The dimness in the hall is lit by the shining sun outside and you can see the rest of the squad lounging around in chairs while Javy and Jake bicker about grilling.

You hadn’t planned to have a BBQ, though this morning when Bradley and Nat showed up banging on the door with coolers and dessert you didn’t have any other choice.

No, you really had no other choice.

The pair had pushed through the door before you could even question them and told you that they were only here to see the twins. They then followed that up by saying that everyone was coming by, well everyone but Javy, he had spent the night after having a movie fort/sleepover night and had yet to leave. The pair had ushered you that you didn’t need to worry because Bob and Mickey were making sure to grab all the required fixings from the store so you wouldn’t have to worry.

Though you had instantly started making a fruit bowl with the strawberries, grapes, kiwi, and pineapple that you already had. The twins had helped you wash them and then used small star cookie cutters to cut shapes in the pineapple. Though once everyone had finally arrived the pair had automatically gravitated toward the outside. Bradley had also casually thrown in the fact that your dad, Penny, and Amelia were coming over as well. After your dad had met them, he instantly wanted Penny and Amelia to meet the twins.

You brush a small strand of hair from Madelaine’s face, which causes her to give you a sweet smile and then kiss your cheek. That had started last night when you were putting the twins to bed, even though they ended up in yours again during the night. The two of them were in a late-night Disney movie hazy that left them half asleep, which in turn led them to tell both you and Jake that they loved you. It had made your heart stop. You knew that you should be placing boundaries, but so many were already crossed, and Jake and you both loved them so much already.

Your hand comes up to shield your eyes as the sun nearly blinds you. You didn’t know how it was 78 degrees at the beginning of December, but you weren’t complaining one bit. Your hold on Laine loosens as her small form wiggles until she’s free of you to run across the deck.

“Pop Pop! Ms. CeCe fought Chicken off.” She squeals in delight as your father catches her and tosses her small form in the air. That was also new, Jake had called your father Pops last night and Laine ran with it from there. Now both Gray and Laine were calling him Pop Pop, and neither your father nor anyone else had even spoken of the possibility of having them stop and having them call him Mav instead.

Your glance leaves the pair as they sit down next to Penny and Amelia, the mother and daughter duo instantly fell in love with the twins. So much so that your little sister had asked if she could babysit them sometime. She had been so happy and excited that you couldn’t tell her that you didn’t know if they would ever be back to the house.

A sigh leaves your chest as you cast your eyes around the deck to look at the group of important people in your life, though you can’t seem to find one of the most important ones. Gray wasn’t anywhere in your line of sight, and while you knew he was somewhere in the yard, that didn’t stop your breath from hitching. A pinch to your back makes you jump, while Bradley laughs and moves passed you with the fruit salad. You bat your hand at him, playfully glaring at him as he passes.

You’re still looking for Gray when you catch Jake’s eyes, he then gives you a small tip of the head out to the lawn and causes you to venture over to look out at the yard. A smile rests on your face as you lean against the railing of the deck to watch Bob, Mickey, Nat, and Gray as they lay on the lawn watching the sky. Gray’s hand shoots up causing your own eyes to shoot to the sky as a jet passes overhead. You only hear pieces of the conversation, something about cloud coverage, altitude, and flight pattern prediction, but it makes you smile all the same. Gray finally had people that would understand and listen to him, instead of brushing him off and not believing a word he said. Because as Janice had so kindly told you during a conference, “Children aren’t that smart, stop feeding into his fantasy.” The woman had riled you up to the point where you skipped over the last half of the packet, already knowing that she wasn’t listening to a thing you said about Grayson, and practically pushed her out the door.

The hands that wined around your waist and grasped onto the railing in front of you, have you relaxing back into the familiar chest. Jake’s chin settles on your shoulder after giving your cheek a small kiss causing the weight of your body to sink further into the comforting hold. You both sigh, and the mutual feeling of peace and fulfillment passes through the two of you.

“They blend in seamlessly.” Jake’s breath heats your neck, and you can’t help but to smile at the comment because it was true. They fit into your little family perfectly, and you were going to soak up every moment you had this weekend.

“I don’t want it to be over.” Jake’s hands wrap around you as you say it, and squeeze you gently. “I don’t know how I’m just going to let them go back there.” Your voice is heavy with pain that neither one of you acknowledge, instead, hoping to remain in this moment.

The tightness in your chest relieves, as neither of you can comment when you hear a whistle ring out that causes everyone to look over at Javy. He stands by the grill, with Laine on his hip as she silently waits for everyone’s attention. Javy smiles down at the small girl as she watches the group of you bouncing from excitement in his hold. Her eyes move from the group and up to Javy as the group quiets down to listen. He gives her a tiny nod that has a smile breaking out on not only her face but yours as well.

“The food is done.” Laine’s voice rings out through the backyard, but before anyone can make their way to the grill Javy whispers something else in her ear to say. “Ummm... Javy said he cooked everything, and Jakey didn’t help and that he’s the best cook.”

The comment causes everyone but Jake to laugh. A dramatic sigh falls from his lips as he steps out from behind you, only taking one step closer to the pair. You giggle as Jake clutches at his heart, eyes wide and never leaving Laine’s, before slipping to his knees beside you.

“You wound me, little darlin’.” His voice is strained and causes the surrounding group to gently smile at him. It didn’t go unnoticed how much Jake loved the twins already, and while they never mentioned the fact to you or Jake, it didn’t stop the squad from talking amongst themselves.

Jake barely has time to catch Laine as she runs into his arms and clutched onto him. She leans into his ear and whispers words that you can’t make out that have the both of them smiling. They must be good if the mega smile not resting on Jake’s face can tell you anything. Jake slowly rises to stand up while the pair laugh together, both of them looking at Javy in a teasing manner.

“You two keeping secrets now?” Your voice is questioning and has Madelaine leaning into you.

“I didn’t wanna hurt Javy’s feelings, Ms. CeCe. Jakey is still the best.” A giggle bubbles from you as she gives you a toothy grin, before you both then look at Javy and you can’t help but laugh even more at his wondering stare.

A weight settles against your leg and causes you to glance down to find Gray, already looking back up at you. His blonde locks house a few pieces of grass that you pick out, while his finger wraps around your belt loop.

“Hi, Sweetpea.” His blue eyes sparkle in the sunlight as a quiet hi is said back to you. “You ready to eat?”

You get back a small nod as he stays attached to your hip, watching the surrounding crowd from the designated safe zone. While Gray had opened up immensely to the group, he still ended up at your side whenever the group became too much. It wasn’t that he was uncomfortable, but his social anxiety and depleted self-esteem caused him to doubt his worth, especially around people he didn’t know well.

You hadn’t noticed that Jake put down Laine, though as his hands come around Gray to lift him in the same manner, he had with Laine just moments ago your heart swells. The sound of his laugh echoed through the yard as the group milled around getting food and talking, though your eyes could leave to pair.

A perfect father-son duo. You could have told anyone that the twins were your kids, not just from how they were almost identical copies of Jake. But anyone that saw how they interacted, and the amount of love that passed between them from minuscule actions and words alone.

“Come on you two, before Roos eats everything.” Your voice is teasing as you pull the pair along with you to grill to follow Laine, who already had your dad piling a mountain of food on a plate for her. Your eyes don’t miss the two different pieces of cake and brownie that cover most of the surface of the plate. You shake your head at your father, just now realizing how tightly Laine has him wrapped around her finger.

Your comment finally gained a reaction from Bradley, as a small kid playing ball lands against your back and makes you yelp before turning. You give him a smile that only a little sister can give to her older brother, followed by your tongue peeking out in a taunt.

You would give anything to stay in this moment with this group of people, your family, forever.

...

You finish putting the last dish away from the washer and wipe down the counter as the clock strikes 8:00. Signaling that it was in fact the twin’s bedtime, well the one that you had given them. Neither Janice nor Ed said if they had a nighttime routine, though you were sure that it wasn’t that they forgot to mention it. No, from what you knew, the pair of them didn’t care so long as the twins didn’t disturb them and stayed in their room.

Wiping your hand one last time, you slowly make your way down the hall in search of the three individuals that consumed your every waking thought. You glance at the guest room and the perfectly made bed, knowing that the twins wouldn’t be sleeping in there tonight either. Only to venture future down the hall when you hear the near-silent humming coming from your bedroom. The dimming sun no longer lights your house and the warm glow coming from the lamp in your room just barely reaches your outline as you settle against the door frame.

Jake sits in the middle of the bed wearing a pair of sweats and tee-shirt that he had slipped on earlier when you sent him to take a shower while you did a couple pages of homework with the twins. He then had the duty of wrangling the two of them into the bath and making sure that they didn’t flood the bathroom floor like they had on you last night. You had disappeared at their request for bubbles and when you came back, nearly half of the tub water was on the floor. You had tried so hard to appear cross with them, though, at the sight of the sheepish smiles they gave you, your heart had overflown with love. You weren’t going to stop the pair of them from doing something that wasn’t dangerous, because it made a small mess. You knew that the carefree spirit that encased them wasn’t something that they were normally allowed to do.

From the looks of it though, tonight had defiantly gone in Jake’s favor. Not only from his dry pajamas but the fact that both Madelaine and Grayson had both found their places in bed next to him without a second thought. That they both felt a sense of peace and protection from Jake’s presence.

The three of them were a sight that warmed your heart beyond compare and made you curse yourself for leaving your phone on the kitchen table, missing the picture-perfect moment. In the middle of Jake’s lap, Laine sits as he braids her hair into two little French braids that just reach her shoulders. While Gray lays behind them cuddling your pillow, eyes fluttering open and closed as he tries to stay awake.

“Your sisters would be happy to know you can still braid hair.” Your voice floats through the room; Gray just barely looks at you only to give you a tiny smile, as Laine twists the finished braid around her finger trying to hide the yawn that slips passed her lips.

“I would hope that ten years of braiding their hair for volleyball whenever mom was late for a game, would have stuck with me.” His laugh makes you smile as you watch the pair of them momentarily. Jake had fallen into the dad role easily, and while you both were so happy to have the twin, you worried about how they would handle having to go back to Janice and Ed’s house Monday.

Jake's eyes lift to you while his fingers work seamlessly back and forth, he could always tell when something was on your mind. The snap of the final tiny elastic getting wrapped around the end of the braid, has you looking back up at the flawless braid. Jake’s arms softly wrap around Laine to lay gently squeezes at her waist, as her small hands rub tiredly at her eyes. She leans back in his hold, snuggling up to him as her eyes start to droop like Gray’s.

“I think Roos and Nat tuckered them out with that last game of tag.” You laugh lightly thinking about the sight of Bradley holding each of the twins in an arm, and running away from Nat.

“I’m sure that they’re just as tired, Rooster probably fell asleep on his couch and didn’t even make it to his bed.” You laugh at Jake’s comment because you know for a fact that Bradley fell asleep on the couch from the picture Bob sent you an hour ago.

Jake glances down at the weight against his chest, Laine turns slightly as she sighs and fully relaxes to cuddle in closer. She holds onto Jake’s black tee shirt with one hand while to other grasps onto her ocean blanket, falling into sleep like it was a warm hug. Jake slowly lifts her, which causes both of her hands to wrap around his neck and his to rub at her back. He whispers soothing sounds as his hand glides up and down her back, helping her relax again. Jake is quick to move her before she can settle in too much though, not wanting to wake the munchkin up from setting her down. He easily turns around with her in his hold and lays her down against his pillow across from Gray.

Her small body lays encased by the surrounding blankets as she snuggles in closer and sighs as Jake tucks the duvet under her chin and kisses her forehead. Jake moves over to tuck in Gray as well as you gently brush the stray baby hairs from Laine’s face and gently kiss her head. Followed by you then tucking and kissing Gray as well, before you sneak into the bathroom to change into your PJs while Jake heads to the living room.

You find Jake laid out on the sofa, hands behind his head with two steaming cups of tea sitting on the coffee table. He gives you a dopy smile that makes your heart beat just a bit faster, before crawling into his open arms. Your legs rest around his waist and your head settles on his chest to listen to the steady rhythm of his heart.

Neither of you moves as you watch the sunset through the massive living room window that faces the Pacific. Jake’s hand slowly slips into your hair and runs his fingers through it gently without even realizing it. Though the small moan of relief causes him to chuckle in realization, before kissing the top of your head and resuming.

“We could do it you know.” His voice is tired and there’s a deep sound of longing intertwined with the words. You hum in question, happy to listen, but far too comfortable to lift your head from his chest and have a conversation.

“The twins; we could apply for adoption.”

His words hang in the air, sure you both had thought and talked about it over and over. Though there was something in Jake’s tone that was different this time. This wasn’t your Jakey that you could tease and easily rial up. No, this was Jacob. The man that got in a fistfight with one of your mother’s ex-boyfriends after he made a backhanded comment about your lack of pregnancy. The man that would protect the people that he loved, even if it meant putting himself in danger. He was serious, so serious that you half wondered if he had already been looking into the adoption process that the state of California had in place.

“Baby –”

“I’m serious darlin’. They are in every single thought I have about our future; I can’t even fathom a life without them anymore.” Jake’s hand slips from your hair and now both of them wrap around you. He clings to you, and you slowly realize that his tense chest and tight hold on you are in fear of your reaction to him wanting to adopt the twins. Your heart aches, you knew how much both of them meant to you. But hearing Jake tell you out loud that he didn’t see a future that didn’t include the twins, officially confirms just how much you both want the twins.

Knowing that is conversation deserved more than just your muffled words against Jake’s chest you slowly sit up, still on Jake’s lap but now able to see each other’s faces. You both could read each other like an open book and though you were positive that Jake was being sincere, you had to see the look in his eyes. You had to be absolutely sure before you let the idea blossom into a reality.

“Adopting them isn’t going to be easy, Jake. Janice and Ed are going to throw a fit because they want to keep getting their monthly check.” Your voice is gentle but firm, “And I hate to even say it, but we have to think about the fact that there are two of them. We planned for one baby, Jake. Can we financially even take on them and give them the life that they deserve?”

Jake's hand moves from your waist to brush against your cheek and causes you to lean farther into him. He knows that your reluctance is only because you’re afraid that you aren’t good enough to be their mom, a mom in general. You didn’t have the breakdowns a lot, but when you did, they were bad. And no matter how much he assured you, you were terrified that the universe wasn’t giving you a child because you weren’t worthy.

Jake’s other hand finds your cheek as well to tilt your head back up. Your chin and eyes had fallen, but Jake needed you to realize that you deserved a child more than anyone.

“Darlin’ we are more than financially stable to take them on. I’m teaching now and missions are rare. I want them to be ours.” Your head nods in his hold but he can feel the cogs in your head turning.

“Honey, look at me.” Your eyes lift and Jake’s heart cracks to see your waterline filled with tears. “You deserve to be a momma more than anyone I know. Maybe things worked out the way they did because some higher power knew that there would be two twin terrors that would need us just as much as we need them.”

A tear falls from your eyes and Jake is quick to brush it away. “You think?” Your voice is small and broken, though you trust Jake more than anyone else and if he said this was the family that both of you deserved and needed, you would believe him.

“I know, darlin’.”

Your face tucks into Jake’s neck and the tiny laugh of joy you give him, makes his arms tighten around as a smile forms on his lips. Your voice is muffled, but Jake hears you perfectly. “We’re gonna make them ours.”

“They’re already ours, darlin’. We’re just gonna make it official now.”

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himbocoups · 1 year

Text

˗ˋˏ Between Glitz and Glamour ˎˊ˗ | 18+ Only

synopsis: love collects like the number of pearls on a string – scintillant under the shining spotlight, two ends clasped together to make one. however, one unforeseen tug can scatter the pearls, making them roll, bounce, and clack against the illegally sticky floors of the speakeasy. but one can’t help but chase the jewels, especially the one carved in the shape of lee jihoon.

member: lee jihoon

genre: angst, drama, romance, 1920s period piece | smut

tags: cursing, drunk characters, emotional constipation, food/drinks, jealousy, opposites attract, smoking, s2l // sax, settlements, and speakeasies | blindfold play, fingering, lap dances, mirror sex, oral, overstim, pet names (baby, daddy, whore...), pnv, pussy slapping, squirting...

wc: 15k

beta reader reviews: "OKAY DADDY I'M NOT GOING TO FIGHT YOU" - @multi-kpop-fanfics // "GODDDD I can't do this" - @heartkyeom // "HAHAHHAHAA FUCK IM IN TROUBLE" - @playmetheclassics

a/n: hihi you may see some recognizable characters sprinkled throughout the fic (hint @onlymingyus's duo). and giving a hugehugehuge thank you to my beta readers. this is a big piece I've been writing for months so thank you so much <33 chapters are separated and named by seasons for easy navigation - nu ♡

himbocoups's masterlist

one - spring

Sleek oiled hair with expensive Brilliantine and the tiny stray strand that falls from the slick that brushes against his forehead, the man’s Adam’s apple bobs and lowers as the man swallows another sip of his Manhattan. An amber drop seeps from his lips, seesawing on the rim of the stemmed cocktail glass he holds steady against his lips before racing downwards against the outside of the glass. He sets his drink on the sticky Oak tabletop before the drop of liquid can collect on his finger, never once breaking eye contact with his spoil for the night.

Dark brown eyes quickly flick from the woman’s eyes to his pant leg that rests against her inner heel, brushing against the open skin like a curtain as she unconsciously shifts her balance to her tiny kitten heel. She traces a manicured finger over his exposed collarbone, letting her hand glide downwards until it rests on his chest. Dorothy, she reminds him of her name, like the one from the novel. But he hasn’t read a novel since grade school, let alone hold one in his hand. He deceivingly nods like he understands her reference. Truthfully, he can’t even hear her over the live band and tonight’s drunk rowdy crowd in his speakeasy.

The Diamond Glass – an ironic name given the speakeasy’s connotations. Hidden in plain sight in the heart of the city, the speakeasy isn’t as transparent as the name suggests. And Lee Jihoon – as cunning as his cat-like features – operates his mom and pop grocery store front during the day and his speakeasy during the night, strictly and smoothly running his businesses like the automated belts in Ford’s motor car factories. A mastermind with too much money to blow and a throttle of criminal cohorts he calls his family, the man can’t help but let loose once in a while, especially when it comes to taking someone new home every so often.

And Dorothy, beautiful feathered brooch-wearing Dorothy with big brown eyes and arched eyebrows, is someone who Jihoon is willing to take home…or even in the kitchen pantry if he kicks the cooks out. But a disapproving look from his younger sister from across the bar is enough to give him second thoughts about taking her old classmate from high school home or anywhere, really. He clears his throat, two rough coughs with his hand brought up to his mouth, and peers at the woman in front of him. She doesn’t seem phased by the little break in their interaction and moves in to leave him a tiny product-stained peck along his jawline.

This action alone is enough to have him immediately forget about his sister’s disapproving looks and pull the lady into him by her waist, a tiny oop emitting from her matte-colored lips.

“Darling,” The word rolls smoothly off the tip of his tongue, landing softly against her cheek.

Before he can make another move on Dorothy, he feels a soft tap against the outside of his heel. And before he can even make the decision to ignore the tap, he hears the ever-so-familiar sound of shattering glass against his beloved speakeasy floors from across the room. The figure of a darting bouncer toward the center of the crowd and the manager, Seungcheol, following closely behind is enough for Jihoon to excuse himself from the self-proclaimed novel character Dorothy to attend to a crowd transforming into the shape of a circle.

He sees her for the first time in his life with her dirtied flimsy party dress, and the skirt under her knees, as she reaches around blindly for something probably important to her. There are a few clutched in her right hand, opalescent pearls, probably fake; her other hand is limp, tucked against her waist as if she doesn’t want anybody to notice her injury. He thinks if he turns his head back to Dorothy, he would be able to become ignorant of the fact that there’s shattered glass near the back of her heels, the same glass that he brought in the other day.

An entire five cents gone, just like that. He is forced to think, adding a note to his mental managerial book.

Mingyu probably kicked the man out, he hears a patron say to another person who asked. The man tried absinthe for the first time. Now he’s absent before the pianist can perform his set. Poor lady…poor lonely lady with her fine pearls. Heard that was the only drink she was clutching onto the whole night before the man knocked her over. Never seen her around before.

“Hey.” Seungcheol taps his boss’s shoulder, the other hand pinching the bridge of his nose in an act of annoyance. “Take her to get patched up.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” he scowls. “Manage your patrons better.”

Still, he shuffles over to his customer and lifts her up by the waist, heaving her onto the nearest bar counter, probably separating two people from their conversation. He doesn’t care if they complain, for all he cares, they already paid for their drinks.

“You didn’t have to set me on the counter,” she says while fiddling with the fabric of her dress, her eyes never looking down to meet his. “Just a scratch on my hand, that’s all.”

Someone passes him a bag of ice wrapped in a dishcloth. The bartender probably, she remembers. She remembered him complaining in passing about how it gets so rowdy in this speakeasy, yet they can never find the time to restock their simplest first aid supplies. Something about how the big boss is stingy, but he can’t complain because he’s getting paid well.

The palm which holds her injured hand is warm and a little rough around the tiny calluses, a stark contrast to the cold ice which hits her outer hand and the soft and regularly washed dishcloth which creates a nice barrier to stop the coldness from stinging.

“The fabric isn’t flimsy, you know. It just looks that way because of how I draped it.” The comment comes out of her mouth compulsively, as if she needed to somehow bring up the topic in case he was staying silent because he was silently judging her getup. She can’t read him well, not under the lights and not even when his eyes flick to every other woman except for her. “I can ice it myself.”

“Nonsense.” He is curt with his words. “This shouldn’t have happened to you. My workers should’ve been better at watching out for rowdy customers. Please accept my apology on their behalf. Write down your bank account number, and I’ll pay for your dry-cleaning and for a new string of pearls.”

She thinks that maybe he isn’t as stingy as Joshua says or alternatively, maybe he can say those things simply because he’s wealthy. Either way, Lee Jihoon is just as handsome as the crowd says. It would be such a loss if she didn’t use this chance to strike up a conversation with him. For all that matters, he would be onto the next gal the moment he’s finished taking care of her.

“Take me on a date,” she squeaks, heart pounding like footsteps on the pavement. “The pearls are fake, an-and I can clean the dress myself.”

“I don’t do dates, princess.”

“Then a non-date? With me.” This time, there is a bit more confidence in her tone. But it isn’t enough to shake him.

“Look.” He sighs and drops the melting ice bag onto the counter near her thigh. “You look like you’ve never stepped into a speakeasy before. You probably came here on a dare with one of your girlfriends from grade school, talking about how you need to step out of your comfort zone a little more and is now all balled up. I’m a criminal – dames like you should never be stuck on my bunch.”

“Then I’m a criminal for coming here voluntarily. Aren’t I?”

two - summer

Standing ovation.

He didn’t even know that a standing ovation could happen at a community theatre performance, but here he is, standing on the risers after the final Summer show, waiting for the second lead to finish talking to an important-looking man in fine business attire.

In his arms is a beautiful assembly of white and purple, a small handwritten card from the heart tucked in the middle of it all. This is the first time he attended a musical, and this is the first time he willingly attended anything for anybody outside of his family. Now he’s worried his sweaty palms left damp marks against the brown paper packaging of the bouquet he shopped for with his sister last night.

A couple of children’s costumes push against his backside while they run down the risers, but he doesn’t care. His eyes are trained on her – a light brown wig done in a giant updo with a giant white feathered attachment stuck at the very top and rosy floral clips trailing down the sides. Her stage makeup sparkles under the hot stage lights, a scintillant glow across the apples of her cheeks. She quickly maneuvers her flowers to one arm so she can reach her free hand out to receive the man’s business card. She thanks him as he walks away, leaving her in the middle of the stage, giggly and filled with glee. With brilliant white teeth and lips stretched thin, she practically bounces in her spot until she pauses for a minute, turning around to look for something or someone so important that she would rather share her happiness with them.

Maybe there is a part of him that wants to call out for her, for her to notice him then, and for her to notice him when he was in the crowd. He wants to convince himself that it shouldn’t be him who she’s looking for. But it’s not like Lee Jihoon would ever admit his feelings, not even months after spending time now and then with the tailoress who crawled on the dirty and sticky speakeasy floor to pick up her fake pearls.

God, her and her pearls, he thinks. There was no way he could ever end up with someone like her, practically floating around with her head in the clouds, dreaming about the day she would become a star. Too trusting of others, too gullible, too into him – he wonders why he would even allow himself to be cajoled into attending a stupid production by someone as idiosyncratic as her.

The tight grip around the metal rail loosens when she makes eye contact with him, eyes widening like her smile. And as vague as it sounds, it makes him feel lighter. Better even.

Noticing her friends crowd around her, he mouths “hallway” to her and slips into the darkness. He thinks it’s in his best interest if he doesn’t check to see if her eyes stayed trained on him when he left his place on the risers.

It’s not long until someone grabs his wrist guiding him along the hallway, past the green room, past the rest of the cast. Left behind in her wake is a trail of African Orange Flowers, Amalfi Lemon and Orange, and the powdery floral scent of the powder she uses to refresh her clothes. Coty’s Cyphre, the one she bought back in ’17 – her only perfume that she uses for special events. The liquid in the whimsical rectangular glass bottle that sits on top of her dresser is starting to turn a light amber hue, but she insists on saving each drop. It’s most condensed on the hand pulling his wrist, the same hand that slips downwards, interlocking both hands in a magnetic pull.

Finally seeing her up close, her big doe eyes staring at him and the meticulously swept-on stage makeup, he forgets he has flowers for her in his hands. He snaps out of his trance when he hears the soft muted crinkling of the brown paper packaging being removed from his arms. She stands in front of him in her empty dressing room, holding the bouquet like a newborn, and lowering her head to smell the flowers – eyes closed to breathe in the sweet floral scent deeply with a sigh.

“I uhh.” He quickly brings his right fist up to his mouth and clears his throat. “I liked the performance. It was nice.” He can’t look her in the eye – doesn’t even know what to say especially now that her dress’s strap slipped off her shoulder, bringing her collarbone into view. She must think he’s the daftest person in the world, and he almost crumbles at the thought of her seeing him through his hubris.

“What about me?” She blinks. Dropping her flowers on the counter where the wood meets a long wall of mirrors, she tests the waters by slowly crossing his threshold. One buttermilk-colored gloved hand glazes his tweed vest, but of course, she can never elicit a reaction from him. “What did you think about me?” She asks him, palm now fully against his vest.

If it were physically possible, Jihoon stutters without muttering a word – caught red-handed by the woman in front of him. Truth be told, he wasn’t really paying attention to the musical. Falling asleep during the last half of the first act and waking up when the orchestra started the entr’acte, he knew he should’ve stayed home after an especially rowdy night at the Diamond Glass. And he would have if it weren’t for his sister, who quite literally dragged him out of bed and kicked him to the curb.

I really don’t get why she likes you even though you’ve been dragging her along for around two months. You don’t even seem that interested in her, she told her older brother. So either end the situationship or make it a relationship. But after the musical! So don’t you dare come back until tomorrow morning…Seokmin’s coming over.

But what does he think about her? What does he think about the woman in the bouncy polka-dot dress whose entire being is too utterly obsessed with him, the one who only talks about her dreams while floating on her imaginary clouds, the one who buys cheap costume jewelry whenever she can hoping one day she would trade her precious pearl necklace for a new one? The one whose lips he has to cover while in bed because her vocal cords aren’t the only things that he’s plugging.

Simply put, he thinks her to be annoying. They have almost nothing in common. He cannot stand the fact that she’s so dizzyingly ditzy that she cannot go a day without dreaming or talking about the glitz and glamour of her potential stardom, living in a constant state of hypotheticals. She somehow latched onto his side like a cat’s claw in a woolen sweater or a parasite who is too cheerful and optimistic even on bad days. Yet, despite everything, he doesn’t mind having her by his side.

“Come on Hoonie,” she whines. “Tell me.”

God, how he hates that nickname. Usually, he would tell her off for using that nickname but she’s a couple of centimeters away from completely pressing herself against his frontside, and the only thing he can concentrate on is definitely not her performance.

But it doesn’t matter anyway. While a celebration happens on the main stage, in an empty dressing room, two people try to devour each other like it is the last time they would ever meet. A few fallen stray petals crumple under the sole of his shoe as he rubs himself between her closed legs. Groaning as he feels her squeeze him between her bare thighs, sliding with ease as her warm juices lubricate his naked organ, he covers her mouth from behind as he slowly pushes himself into her.

And everything feels warm, hot – clothed bodies pressed against each other, the row of bright lights above the wall of vanity mirrors, her breath as she moans into his large palm over her mouth, and her spongy inside that often invites him in secret. The habitually voluble woman is reduced to nothing under his touch and tries to refrain from audibly moaning, knowing that she would be punished if she were loud.

So she finds something exciting in whimpering into the open air, feeling him twitch inside of her with every mewl that enters his ear as he slowly fucks himself into her. The more high-pitched she gets, the more it arouses him to the point where he completely loses his nonchalant front. The hand which once covered her mouth is now tilting her chin upwards as his other hand grabs her by her waist. And he watches through the mirror how her eyes roll upward as he ruts himself into her, smirking at how she melts against his chest, aching and begging him for more.

That isn’t to say that maybe the thought of how good the reflection of the two of them together looks crossed his mind once or twice. But he pushes the thought aside like the rest of his feelings for her and instead pushes deeper into her, moaning when he feels her convulse around him.

“Ah fuck babe,” she gasps while her knees bend towards each other, palms pressed against the mirror as she recovers from her high.

“Watch your language,” he instinctively mumbles, pushing her forward so that her elbows rest on the vanity. He lifts the hem of her skirt above her ass, bunching the costume fabric in his hand and laying it on top of her back. Her use of his pet name completely slips his mind as he sighs while slipping back inside of her, feeling the tight cushiony cunt squeeze around his cock. Any tighter he might have to fuck her on the floor to stop losing feeling in his legs.

The louder the party is downstairs, the more confident she is in moaning out loud. And the sounds coming from her mouth fuels his lust. His cock feels hard as hell, and he is so close to finishing. A trail of profanities rains from his mouth, praising her, commanding her, and telling her how he feels at this moment. And she smiles that lazy smile reflected in the mirror as she hiccups while the tip of his organ threatens to penetrate more than just her walls.

“Be mine, yeah?” She manages to ask him while he pulls her head back, her fake pearl necklace coming into view.

“You’re asking? Fuck. Okay fu-Jesus. Bend over. M-more for me, baby. More.”

With one easy yank, the brown wig slides off her head and collects in his fist. He thinks nothing of it and drops it on the floor next to a pile of fallen audition flyers, continuing to ram into her from behind, never missing a beat. Jostled around with each hard thrust, each remaining bobby pin that once held her wig in place fall to the floor one after the other.

Plink. Puh-link. Plink.

The answer to her original question is still left unanswered.

three - summer

“So, when is your girlfriend coming?”

Lee Jihoon looks up from the several small plates of food in front of him to see his younger sister cocking an eyebrow at him before she looks at the spread of food he prepares. Quick to notice the slight pout of her lips and the soft twitch of her eyebrows, he knows a light-hearted complaint is about to come out of her mouth.

“It’s a double date, but you’re only serving us canapés. What do you want me to do? Starve?” She places a hand on her hip in disbelief.

“I never said it was a double date,” he corrects her while swatting one of her hands away from the deviled eggs, never batting an eye. “I only said we are going to taste test new finger foods for the speakeasy.”

“And the girlfriend?” She sneaks a bruschetta from one of the plates when he looks away, dumping the pile of finely diced tomatoes tossed with balsamic vinegar and spices into her mouth before following it with the piece of soggy-crunchy bread she holds. “W- where is sphe?” She asks him with her mouth full, swiping the edge of her mouth with the side of her pointer finger.

“Finishing an audition so she’ll be a bit late,” his tone is as monotonous as ever. He doesn’t pay her any mind, not when he’s stressing over minuscule plates of finger food.

It is a particularly slow Thursday night. The grocery store’s customers start to dwindle as Seokmin helps the remaining customers checkout their items before he can close the shop to restock and sneak his boss’s girlfriend into the speakeasy. And the younger sister who stands in the kitchen behind the speakeasy’s bar can’t help but stare at her older brother who somehow manages to assemble different types of small plates for four people at once. But it’s the fact that no amount of magnesium can fix his almost permanently clenched jaw that she knows something is bothering him.

“Hmm…” She takes his used cutting board and a stack of dirtied plates away from his area to bring to the sink to rinse. “I don’t like it,” she tells him while dropping the stack in the sink, wincing at the crashing sound.

“The bruschetta you stole?” He asks over his shoulder. Albeit, the way his tone angles upwards at the end, a squeak that he tries to hide by clearing his throat, is a clear tell that the quality of the food, or at least something related to tonight, greatly concerns him.

“No. It’s actually really good.” She restacks the dishes in the sink, thinking that it would be better to wash them all at once after dinner. “I was talking about you. Something’s bothering you.”

“You’re bothering me.” He frowns in his spot, bending over to adjust the garnish on one of the plates. “Go bother Seokmin. He’s probably crying while he’s running the grocery store alone without you by his side.”

“He’s a big boy. He can handle it,” she muses, humming while wiping her hands on a dishtowel.

“I’m telling you to climb up your thumb.”

“And I’m telling you that you have girl problems.”

Before he can turn around to confront his sister about minding her own business, two familiar voices enter the speakeasy from the hidden hallway connecting the employee room of the grocery store to the speakeasy’s office. Head perking upwards like a sleeping cat when they hear the familiar clinking of keys on a chain when one unlocks the front door, Lee Jihoon’s entire attitude and disposition seem to shift into the positive. And the sister almost snickers at the sight.

---

Clearly less stressed than before, Lee Jihoon still walks around more reserved than usual. He left the small talk to the others and only chimed in when spoken to. But the one hand that found a home around her waist, on her shoulder, in her hand, said something otherwise. And maybe it’s not a lie when others say that being around your favorite person could make all your worries go away. The way that his tiny fangs come into view when she gushes about her audition, the unnoticeable squeeze he gives her hand when she talks about calling off sick for work in order to practice for the audition, and the blush on top of his already flushed face when she tells the other couple that she couldn’t have done it without him by her side…it did make his worries go away, at least for the time being.

Two hours later, the siblings are once again in the speakeasy’s kitchen, cleaning the used and empty dishes while the other two chat away near the stage where they plan for a duet in the future. There is an empty bottle of homemade red wine left to dry next to the dish rack. He sits by himself on the stool near the sink, holding a half-filled wine glass in one hand, promising to finish off the rest of the bottle by himself before his team comes in to open the speakeasy within the next hour.

“Hey, be honest. What’s eating yo-”

“She told me she loved me this morning.” He cuts off his sister’s question while staring at his sorry expression through the soft reflection against the burgundy-red liquid.

“Oh…OH?” She doubles back.

“I wasn’t able to reciprocate it,” he sighs. “It came out of nowhere.”

There isn’t anywhere to sit so she decides to squat next to him, taking the glass out of his hands so she can finish it for him. Of course, she would be worried about the man who never seemed to be able to keep a relationship or even enter one look so distraught over a quip in his relationship. Finding out it was about the question of love, she can’t help but pry more out of him, never experiencing this kind of talk with her older brother in the past. But when she sees his eyes squint at the hem of her everyday dress draped across the dirty kitchen placemats and him immediately getting up from his stool so she could sit, she knows that he would be fine.

“What’s next? Do you think you’ll have to break up with her?” She tries to push his buttons.

“No.” He hears the familiar tuning note in the distance, echoing throughout the empty speakeasy. “Maybe I would be able to reciprocate it someday,” he mumbles while scratching the side of his head.

She chugs the rest of the wine, earning a disapproving look from her older brother, and rinses the glass in the sink.

“I think I’ll have my gentleman walk me home now…leave you to work.”

He takes her glass out of the sink and immediately washes it again, not trusting that she could truly clean it in her inebriated state.

“Make sure he gives you his jacket. It’s starting to get chilly outside.”

“How can it be chilly? It’s only the beginning of Summer.”

“Also, don’t walk. Take my breezer keys from my office drawer,” he tells her while she hugs him goodbye. “And tell him to drop her off, yeah? She must be tired.”

“From the audition?”

“Yeah…the audition.”

“Are you sure you don’t love her?” She squeezes his shoulder. “Don’t think too much about it, okay?”

“I-” He looks like he is about to say something but drops the notion. “Get home safe.”

It comes out like a sigh – a dilatory action to avoid her question.

four - summer

There are only a few ways to command a room in a crowded speakeasy on an especially sweltering hot July Summer night. And only a few can truly get the room to become so quiet that everybody inside can hear conversations outside of the sturdy soundproof walls of the speakeasy.

She stands onstage next to one of the lead singers of the week. Seungkwan, the lead’s name, tries to pry open the newspaper to the right page but struggles to find any grip between the smooth-printed paper and his dry fingertips. The action causes the crowd to groan, but a singular and sharp shh sound emitted from the speakeasy’s owner’s mouth at the back of the crowd causes the entire crowd to acquiesce and grow silent again.

Seungkwan swipes the tip of his pointer finger across his tongue and rubs the wetness against his thumb. The younger man smiles when he finds his grip and immediately flips to the right page, right to the location of the musical advertisement. He shifts his body away from the eager dame, oscillating ball to heel, who is dressed like a patron of the Ritz just for this special occasion. Left pointer finger skimming through the cast members, he skips ahead and heads straight to the ensemble.

From the crowd beneath the stage, one could see the top of the singer’s head, eyebrows, and a pair of eyes right above the top of the newspaper. The man on the stage holds the newspaper to the crowd, showing them the content like a schoolteacher reading to their class.

“Ensemble!” he yells. “And the understudy for the lead!”

The ebullient cheers that follow the announcement fill the speakeasy – a newfound cause for celebration. A regular in this establishment is about to star in a mainstream musical and they are all about to get bragging rights. And the dame whose name is printed on thousands of newspapers stands on stage, quite clearly in shock. Lace-gloved hands covering her mouth and the recovered fake pearl necklace hanging from her neck, she can only allow tears of joy, of jubilation, to fill a reservoir in her eyes. Months of hard work, hours upon hours of practice, sore muscles, and a dream to work toward – there’s a realized catalyst to her belief that nothing that she had worked toward, worked for, and dreamed about had ever gone to waste.

And he, Lee Jihoon, continues to stand in his place at the back of the Diamond Glass, unmoving like the Statue of Liberty. He sees his Ritzy moll under the spotlight, shining, scintillating in all her newfound glory. Where he would usually be focusing on the crowds of men with fat pockets rushing to the bars, he can’t help but keep his eyes on his girlfriend.

His mouth moves on its own. Opening. Tongue touching the back of his front teeth. The last syllable forms a pout. Three words formed without any sound.

The thing is, she sees him. Even from the stage in the front of the room, the only person she can clearly see silently supports her from the back of the crowd. To her, he is, and always will be, her only glowing entity in the pitch dark. And she directs a fabulous smile at him. She knows.

---

“F-fuck!” Her stomach jolts when she feels his thick fingers exiting her leaking cunt.

“Aww my baby is so vulgar, isn’t she? Wanting to fuck in public while everybody else is getting drunk and celebrating her?”

The owner of the Diamond Glass leans back into the beautiful moss green leather executive chair with the cherry wood elements that his workers gifted him on his past birthday. Spread across his matching cherry wood desk are the gams belonging to the woman the entire speakeasy is celebrating. And the new musical actress shudders at the feeling of her naked and throbbing core against the cold office air while she lies with her back against the desk, dress pulled up and bunched around her breasts. And he smirks in his seat, his left hand moving to his neck to loosen his necktie while his right hand reaches into his desk drawer to draw out a long wooden object.

“Left or right hand, baby?” He asks her while palming himself in his seat, his zipper already down and his erection dripping with precum.

“L-Left,” she stutters while staring at the ceiling, heart beating fast.

“Left what?” He spreads his thighs a little more, relaxing into his seat while he slowly strokes himself to the fleshy sight in front of his face.

“Daddy,” she chokes, her back arching off the wooden surface, fake pearl necklace clacking against the desk, her wanting to feel anything and to be given anything by the man who sits behind his desk.

He moves the oblong object into his left hand and rubs the precum off his head with the pad of his right thumb. Like a painter branding their work of art, Jihoon marks her soft nub with his precum, smearing it on her as if he is marking his territory. And she moans from his touch, every inch of her body prickling with heat.

Thinking for a couple of seconds while stroking himself with his right hand, he finally decides, “We’re not leaving this room until we see your pretty pussy squirt on daddy. Hold still for me Sweetheart.”

With no time for her to react, he brings the object down on her opening, fast. The slapping sound of the wooden ruler against her fragile clit rings throughout the room – threatening to drown out the sounds of people partying on the other side of the guarded door. The euphonic sound of her squealing, the way her thighs close and immediately open like the whore she is, only edges him more.

He slaps her pussy again, bringing down the makeshift paddle quickly. Then again. And again.

She cries in response, tears leaking down the sides of her face as she calls out to him Daddy, daddy, yes! Daddy – s-shit. Please! More! Use me. Withering in her spot, she feels nothing but the euphoria and the stinging sensation that makes her sex clench, builds her high, and causes her eyes to roll to the back of her head. And he relishes in watching and hearing her positively react, feeling his high build in the palms of his hands.

However, like the businessman he is, he thinks what is in front of him is not enough. So he drags his heavy seat closer to his desk till his face is directly in front of her cunt when he is seated. And he knows that he didn’t take that much time to adjust his seat, but her fingers are already dipping into her sopping cunt without permission – a dainty middle finger slowly and repetitively entering her sex and pulling out while she sighs in relief.

Irritated by her actions, he uses his precious ruler to nudge her hand away from her cunt. He drops his ruler on his desk and immediately, by bringing his empty hand against her cunt and feeling her jolt under his fingers, pulls his hand back to slap her again.

“Whore.”

This single word leaves his mouth, laced with disgust. But it causes her to reach her high, her body jolting as she comes. He uses this moment to put his face against her cunt, burying his tongue in her folds, licking and prodding while his strong hands grab hold of her thighs to steady her while she shakes against the tabletop. He lets himself be buried in her cunt, pushing his nose against her nub and lapping her juices like it’s his only source of water. Teasing her with the tip of his tongue, he kitten licks her cunt until she shakes under his hands and sends a long and flat stripe up her folds.

Overstimulated by him eating her out while she orgasms, by him punishing her by sticking his tongue up her vagina, all she can do is slur her cries – so, so, so entirely intoxicated by him against her sex. And the frail cry turns into a scream when he pulls out his tongue and slaps her one last time – the sharp pain against her bodily exhaustion causes her to squirt, wave after wave, coating his unbuttoned button down and lubricating his open and exposed chest.

Her high blinds her so much that the can only see the deep red marks his fingers left on the outside of her thighs and the splotchy purple along her inner thighs when she recovers in the morning.

And the poor part-time bouncer, the law student with the circular glasses, can only keep a stoic face as he stands on the other side of the door. Because he knows that if he even reacts, even hints to others why he is guarding the office door, he would suffer a fate a lot worse than being fired from his boss’s precious speakeasy.

five - fall

He arrives home at around two in the morning and finally gets to enter the comfort of his bed at around three. The girlfriend who was lying in bed awake, waiting for her boyfriend to come home, is now completely lost as to why her sweetheart would even start an argument with her saying that she should have gone to bed without him. For months now, all she wanted was communication from someone who loves knowing everything and every single detail about everybody around him, but she can never seem to scratch more than his surface-level answers. And everything she does at that moment, including being awake for him, seems to tick him off even more than it should. And she is frustrated, not knowing what to do or how to confront him.

“You’re upset,” she points out.

“I’m not upset,” he retaliates, his tone a lot harsher than how he meant it to sound.

“You didn’t call me ‘Babe.’ You didn’t greet me when you came home.” She sits up from her side in his bed, the bedsheets falling just below her neckline. She hugs the sheets tightly to her chest. “You’re clearly upset.”

Truth be told, Lee Jihoon is definitely upset. They are in the middle of their first mini-argument, but it is hard to even begin a full-fledged fight when one side is extremely talkative and open about their feelings while the other side is the polar opposite. And the polar opposite in this situation only wants to sleep in his king-sized bed, too tired to even talk to her. Because in his heart, he knows that he would accidentally take his frustrations built from an amalgamation of happenings out on her through his language, and he knows that the only way to avoid that outcome is to avoid her altogether.

Continuing to look at his ceiling, he stubbornly ignores the woman he holds so precious to his heart, thinking that it would be better that way.

“Lee Jihoon,” she says his full name. “Talk to me. Why won’t you talk to me?”

Muscles tense under his blanket when he hears his name, and he stiffens in his place in bed. He can feel her getting more upset with every second he spends ignoring her – but it’s not like she isn’t used to him ignoring her. That’s how their relationship started anyway.

He knows he could just tell her. He knows he doesn’t even need to look her in the eyes to talk to her, to tell her how much of a bad day he has had. Just a couple minutes explaining how he is upset because the police stopped his men from unloading the grocery stock truck when they mistook the contents of the truck for alcohol, how the police almost found out about the speakeasy, how Seokmin proposed to his sister without his permission, and how he punched Seokmin would have been enough to put the both of them at ease.

But he is as hardheaded as they come, and he doesn’t have an answer for her – he doesn’t know why he won’t share his feelings with her.

A scintillant flash glimmers at the corner of his eye, and his bedroom is much too dark for any regular object to be shining so brightly. So he turns his head toward the object only when it catches his eye another time.

Lo and behold are two brilliant diamonds sitting proudly on her earlobes. And for a man who has seen all of his girlfriend, he has never seen them before – no matter how small they are.

“What are those?” he asks her, sitting up to get a better look at the earrings. And he frowns when he sees something prominent missing from her neck. “Where’s your pearl necklace?”

“Tossed it,” she answers a little too nonchalantly for his liking – as if the necklace that she always wore around her neck as a reminder that she would make it big and replace it with a chain of real pearls someday meant absolutely nothing to her.

“What?” His mouth is agape. His stubborn demeanor attenuates while his curiosity slowly appears.

He thinks that she’s joking – playing a little prank on him. But when he sees her staring at her manicured fingertips, pushing back her cuticles with her thumb, he can only accept the fact that she may not be joking. And it stings him a little because of the number of times she firmly turned his offer to buy her a piece of jewelry – a pearl necklace – as a gift, taking umbrage at his thoughtful request.

“Oh, Hoonie. I know you’re about to lecture me about sticking to my dreams. But I got my first big paycheck from the musical, and I saw how glittery and beautiful the diamond earrings looked at Tiffany’s in the department store so I had to buy them.”

Suddenly, his skin under his latest sleepwear under his heavy duvet blanket feels unbearably hot. He feels agitated by her actions even though it doesn’t pertain to him at all. And even more so, he finds himself furrowing his eyebrows at the way she shifted from being upset with him not wanting to talk to her to suddenly forgetting about her anger just because of some real diamonds from the cheapest section. The thought of everything upsets his stomach and makes his jaw clench so hard that one accidental budge could grind his molars flat.

He knows that he can be a bit of an ass all the time and that before he took their relationship seriously he was still flirting with other women while she stupidly latched onto his arm in his speakeasy. He hates hearing his workers tease him about becoming the type of man who would finally settle down with a lovely dame. Nevertheless, her name used to only form from his lips, while they now form from the innermost portion of his heart. And still spends nights wondering how the hell someone like him can manage to fall in love with someone like her – especially the “live in the moment” type of person.

“Aww,” she whines while shaking his right arm. “I know you’re doing your dumb calculations in your head. It’s fine. I still have leftover money from when I worked two jobs.” She pauses and continues in a sultry voice, holding his right hand in one hand while she tiptoes her fingers along his bicep, “And, I also had enough money left over from this shopping spree to make another purchase.”

She moves before he can ignore her out of spite, letting her bedsheets fall to the mattress as she stands on her knees. Under the yellow light emitting from the art deco nickel-plated lamp from Jihoon’s bedside is a silhouette, a shadow of her figure, cast against the wall. Milk yellow satin bows that sit on top of her shoulders keep her chemise from falling. And the lingerie itself, a square neckline lined with thin hand-embroidered lace, cinches at the waist and drops downwards in a pillowy-soft see-through fabric. The same thin hand-embroidered lace forms garters around her thighs, holding up knee-high socks with tiny bows sewn in the front.

“You don’t want this?” She teases him by letting go of his hand to trace a finger along her neckline.

“Fuck, baby,” he breathes, holding out his right hand for her to take again. “Of course I want you. Let me take care of you tonight.”

“No, Love.” She crawls over to him, moving her right thigh over his legs until she straddles his hips. Griding down on him, she places her hands around his neck. “Let me.”

Not able to keep his cool-headed persona, his head tips backward so a soft moan can naturally escape his lips. On his lap is the weight of her entire body – random atoms bundled so tightly, creating cells, creating organs, creating and completing the love of his life. He misses her pearls, the stupid piece of cheap jewelry that tarnishes with every scratch against hard surfaces – like his skin when her nails dig into them, leaving bright and stinging red trenches masked by the fire he feels at his core.

The love of his life on top of him, feeling and teasing herself, calling herself names that may never leave the bedroom…he almost wants to bend her over the bathroom sink to wash her mouth, scrub it raw, and peck the pouty lips and then the eyelids where her lashes tickle his bottom lip. Reveling in his private lap dance as much as a man can at half-past three in the morning, he can only stare at her with so much love that the feeling alone sucks and strips away the color in the life around him. And when his mouth is stuffed with her soaked undergarment and she reaches for his pants, he knows he is done for.

Bedsheet roughly thrown to the side, and the weight of its fall knocks over today’s unread paper placed towards the edge of the nightstand. The paper falls to the floor along with the bedsheet and opens to the entertainment page. Leading Lady FIRED, the headline reads. A summary of the contents is as follows: leading lady was fired because she was caught auditioning for another role while she was supposed to be at practice for her current musical, her no-name understudy will take over her role for the rest of the season, and critics hypothesize either the birth of a new shining star or the failure of an entire production caused by a chain of events.

six - fall

A giant star follows the signature that finishes with a flourish, etched with the black expensive ink from the solid gold Sheaffer “Propel – Repel – Expel” Pencil from the Giftie Set that is supposed to come out at the end of October for this upcoming holiday season. The owner of the receipt that is now etched with the signature of someone famous thanks the musical actress again – still trying to fathom how such a famous actress shops at the same local grocery store as she does – before leaving through the front door.

Chic coffee-colored suede fabric of the light long coat in Philippe et Gaston’s winter collection – not yet released and imported straight from Paris – flows and flaps against the current that rushes in when the patron with the signature leaves the grocery store. Once again, the coat peacefully settles right above her calves when the wind breaks its trail. The actress tucks her pen back in its leather case where the second pair of the Giftie Set is missing – in fact, the matching retractable fountain pen rests in the lapel of the grocery store owner’s coat at all times. She drops the case in her black clutch and snaps it close. Old cut, 0.40-carat yellow and platinum diamonds – two of them in oval drops – collect and accentuate the front of her open collar, gifted by her loving boyfriend. They sparkle against the afternoon sunlight that shines through the shop’s open windows, glimmering and glistening like the love they are meant to represent.

The understudy-turned-leading lady adjusts how her white cloche hat sits on top of her head before turning to look at Seungcheol who leans against the wall behind the cashier counter, furiously whispering into the telephone. It seems as if he doesn’t want to be disturbed, or even be acknowledged. He quickly hangs up the phone and rushes through the backdoor, straight to his boss’s office.

The second owner of the store, the sister, recommends the newspaper with the musical reviews to a customer. There’s a sly smile on her face, the hidden excitement of knowing that the actress whose glowing musical reviews in the newspaper is only a few feet away. Still, she maintains her polite and professional front.

Softly humming to herself while walking around the store, the actress thinks about the items she wants to pick up for her new agent before she meets him for the first time at the radio station. She settles on a soft drink for him and water, no, tea for herself before going to the counter where her fake sister-in-law waits.

“You waiting for Hoon?” the younger one asks while grabbing a brown paper bag from under the counter.

“Yeah,” she sighs while unclasping her bag so she can reach in to grab her coin pouch. “I was supposed to remind him about the radio show today, but he left the house in a rush. I rang him a few times, but I couldn’t even reach him.” She shakes her head while unzipping her coin pouch with her gloved hands.

The cashier tsks and pushes the outstretched hand with the coins away, “Just take the bag. You know my brother will come for my head if he finds out you visited and paid for something. How can I wear a veil during my wedding if I don’t have a head?”

“And you know it hurts my dignity knowing that I can afford at least two drinks,” she pushes back. “Plus, Seokmin would love you even without that pretty head of yours.”

“Take the bag, and bunk off. Dingus,” she mutters, her cadence eerily mirroring that of her brother’s.

“Don’t call her a Dingus.” Jihoon’s voice appears out of nowhere. He finishes tying his apron around his back before shoving his sister to the side. “Only I can call her Dingus.”

“Nobody can call me a Dingus,” the girlfriend remarks and proceeds to drop her coins in the tip jar before taking her bag of drinks from the counter. “Flag me a cab, yeah? I came to remind you about today’s show.”

Immediately acquiescing to her request, he nods his head and quickly scrambles to meet her on the other side. He grabs the paper bag from her arms, afraid that it may be too heavy for her, and guides her to the front of the store. From there, he brings his thumb and pointer finger together and puts them between his lips, whistling loudly to flag a cab.

“Today at three,” he smiles at her. “I didn’t forget.”

A cab pulls to the curb before he can strike up a conversation with her, and he has no choice but to help her in the cab and hand the paper bag back to its owner. And it hurts him a little more when the cab driver drives off before he can kiss her on the cheek. But watching her head pop out of the window while the cab drives away and that big smile of hers coupled with a waving hand, he can’t help but feel like the luckiest man on this Earth.

---

“You closed the shop early and demanded us to come in not for training but because of your girlfriend?” Chan, the part-time bouncer slowly asks as if he is trying to understand his boss’s thought process. “Hoonie wants us to help him get a radio shout-out from his kitten? Meow?”

Mingyu immediately tosses the student over his shoulder and heads over to the speakeasy before Jihoon can physically lunge at his worker. Seungcheol, who may be the only employee who can physically restrain the man without getting fired, lets go of Jihoon when Mingyu and Chan are finally gone.

“Anybody who stays for the entire duration gets a bonus,” Jihoon growls while straightening his collar.

The rest of the group nods and mumble among themselves as their boss adjusts the radio they have all crowded around to the correct frequency. Instantaneously, a familiar laugh fills the tense atmosphere and eases everybody it reaches.

Wow. I can’t believe both of you knew what you wanted to be and where you wanted to go since you were kids, the radio host recounts. Your parents must be so proud.

They are. A masculine voice – the seasoned musical lead. They have a collection of posters from all of the musicals I’ve been in…signed by the cast and everything. They’re so special to me.

That’s so sweet of them to do so, the host responds. Speaking of special people, and I’m pretty sure everybody tuning in wants to know, does our leading lady currently have someone special?

Jihoon’s ears perk up when he hears the question and immediately glow bright red when he notices several pairs of eyes trained on him. He shoots a glare at his crowd before awkwardly adjusting in his seat while he waits for his beloved to respond.

Oh, me? She giggles. I’m happily single.

And the answer shocks everybody – the grocery store becomes so quiet that you can only hear the hums emitting from the refrigerators.

So you’re saying if you’re single and your handsome co is also single, the host presses, then that means there’s a chance that the two of you could possibly become a couple by the end of your season?

Laughter – hearty guffaws from the radio and small awkward hiccups on the other end of the radio.

I mean, the host recounts, word on the street is that there are quite a few kiss scenes in this musical. Not to mention the chemistry the two of you share on stage and off stage. No wonder it’s so popular!

The door to Jihoon’s office slams shut, echoing throughout the establishment. It is only then that the employees of the Diamond Glass finally notice that their boss has angrily left the scene.

seven - fall

Holding her jaw open with one hand, Jihoon bends over and watches his spit fall onto her awaiting tongue, how the liquid bubbles and collapses against the papillae of the muscular organ. Once he shuts her mouth, his hand moves back to her throat where he can clearly feel the way her Adam’s apple bobs against the palm of his hand when she swallows his spit.

Every time he squeezes her esophagus, her velvet walls clench and flutter around his cock while she prays and begs him to take off her blindfold.

But he doesn’t respond. Even when he hears her beg, her: Daddy, Daddy, please. Please take off my blindfold so I can be a proper slut, so you can ruin my pussy. Use me, please. He doesn’t budge. Not today.

Tonight, Lee Jihoon is not taking any requests: he only has one goal on mind.

He has her body memorized – the familiar feeling of hitting the exact spongy part to cause her to orgasm, how much pressure the rough pads of his fingertips must exert on her clit. He rolls his hips for her to take him in deeper until his throbbing tip reaches an end, and he extracts himself and thrusts inwards without pause. The hand around her neck loosens and travels downwards towards her breasts, cupping, squeezing, and pinching the nipples until they turn into sore and hard little nubs. He massages them and watches how they fill the gaps between his fingers with every rough squeeze.

She’s as loud as ever. Back arching, she begs her boyfriend to make her feel good instead of playing with her. She’s already tired of being used despite her excessive begging.

As much as he knows exactly how to make her come undone, he knows exactly the steps he has to take to make himself feel good in her. And he grabs both thighs, pushing them back and spreading them wide to give himself a better angle. Roughly, he rocks his hips into her tight little pussy with so much force that it sends her sliding a few inches backward, the bed creaking.

“Oh- FUCK!” she gasps.

Thrusting aggressively, he bites his bottom lip while he stares at the headboard ahead of him. His fingers dig deep into her thighs and she struggles to moan as her entire body jostles up and down in repeated motions. Everything comes out in segments.

He fucks her roughly and without any ounce of kindness. And when her pussy could clamp around his cock just a few moments ago, it fails to hold on the more she becomes his personal fucktoy instead of his girlfriend. She’s confused and horny, her pussy feeling sore yet amazing while being ripped apart by his thick and veiny cock; he’s close to his release.

The thing is, she’s not even close to coming when his hips jerk and buck in place before he finishes in her. He silently pulls out, rolls off his condom, ties it, and tosses it in the trash can while leaving her in bed. He doesn’t even give her a second glance when he tells her he is headed for the roof.

“What the fuck,” she mutters under her breath while she plants her feet against the mattress. She rips the blindfold off her face and decides that if he’s not going to help her finish, she would do it herself.

If he doesn’t need her, then she sure as hell doesn’t need him.

---

She watches him from the door to the roof as he inhales and lets the pillowy smoke flow out of his mouth. It’s interesting to her how the length of a couple of days can turn two people, as close as they are, into complete strangers. And she is lost as to how such a loving man, no matter how cold he may seem to those who aren’t acquainted with him, could ever act as if his love for her somehow became conditional.

People say that love can keep people even in the coldest and darkest places warm. Maybe she does believe it to be true, but now, staring at the man she loves the most from a few feet away, the warmth feels more like a memory than a presence. Midnight air nips at her skin, raising goosebumps and causing her arm hairs to stand straight, while he looks blissful or at least contented to be alone with his pack of cigarettes. She doesn’t even know that he had a pack on him.

People also say that love can make you become either really brave or really dumb, but that’s like comparing apples to oranges. Even she is confused about whether or not confronting him at the top of his brownstone tonight is the bravest or dumbest thing she can do. But her actions happen before she can really register what is it that she wants from him.

“Is this about me not kissing you before I got into the cab the other day?” Okay, at least it comes off as a passive joke to hide her anger. “It’s because we were in public.”

“Since when have you ever cared about kissing in public?” he gruffs, making it a point to turn his body away from hers.

His irritable attitude towards her makes her tick. And she scoffs, “Stop bullshitting me, Jihoon. If you miss a kiss, then you can make up for it later on. And I did.” She marches towards the side he is facing and leans against the half-wall balcony. “Remember how we promised to always be open about what’s bothering us? Like the night where I bought the diamond earrings and you were pissed about the engagement?”

“Oh, so it’s my fault.” He rolls his eyes. His temper isn’t the best either.

“When the fuck did I say it’s your fault?”

“Watch your mouth,” he mutters.

“Watch my mouth?” she criticizes his hypocrisy. “You won’t even open your mouth to tell me about what’s bothering you. What am I? Some sort of scapegoat for your anger?”

“My anger?” he asks, pointing at himself with the hand that holds his cigarette between his knuckles. His question is rhetorical as well as the answer, but his ego refuses to accept the fact that she isn’t wrong.

“Yes, your anger,” her voice suddenly calmed. “Please work with me here. Can’t you see I’m trying to solve whatever this is between us? Is it because of Jeonghan’s comment? About how he heard about the unscripted kiss during one of our scenes?”

“So it was real,” he scoffs, turning his head to look at the view ahead of him. He wishes that the soft breeze which tickles and ruffles the tops of the several rows of trees below him can also whisk him away from this conversation.

“Acting, Jihoon. It was just us acting.” She can’t believe the productive conversation she imagined having with his is taking a turn for the worst.

“Why don’t you just date him instead because, apparently, I’m not your boyfriend anymore.” His retort is unfairly childish, but it implies some of his underlying concerns are slowly making their way to his surface. His mouth tastes dry and the warm and fuzzy high he felt before she disturbed his peace is already gone. He taps the ashes away against the brick edge before bringing the bud to his lips again.

“Is this what was bothering you the whole time? The scripted radio show?” She sighs and brings her hand up to her temple to pinch and rub away the pain. Instead, she only feels a swelling sensation form and collects in the inner corners of her eyes. “It was the first time I met this new agent. And I had to listen to him because of his experience in the industry. He said that revealing our relationship might ruin my career, especially taking into consideration how hard I’ve worked for it. So I couldn’t discuss the boyfriend thing with you ahead of time because it was sprung on me the minute I sat down with him.”

To her side is a man who had grown accustomed to having a cup of tea every morning instead of his usual cup of coffee after learning that his girlfriend doesn’t drink coffee. A man who regularly keeps his kitchen shelves stocked with various teas around the world as his way of saying how much he loves her, he could help but appease his curiosity as to what some measly leaves could offer to a person. The difference in caffeine made him feel a bit woozy at first, a remarkable We should call you Woozi with an I from the way you keep slipping in and out of consciousness from the one called Vernon. But now, he finds pleasure in walking around with a white mug, the tea bag’s string expertly looped twice around the top of the mug’s handle, tucked between his knuckles and mug.

She knows how much of an asshole he can be, how hard it is for him to physically say “I love you” when others are around, and how he finds it challenging to even begin to open up and talk about his problems. But it may be her greatest downfall, believing that she could completely change a man whose flaws drew her in like a moth towards an open flame.

“I hate it when you smoke,” her voice quivers. She feels small next to the well-built man beside her, but she doesn’t know whether or not she should continue to try to reason with a brick wall. “It’s bad for my lungs.”

The thing is, Lee Jihoon is a good listener. Probably trained by his sister after taking care of her by himself for so many years, his listening skills make up for his lack of good communication skills. And he snuffs his half-burned cigarette against the brick edge, tossing it to the floor of the roof and rendering it destroyed with the heel of his shoe.

When he wraps her in his arms as a way of saying Sorry, I was in the wrong, she notices how cold he must be feeling. His cold skin immediately burns hot the moment it comes into contact with hers.

“I’m sorry. Don’t cry.” His apology is muffled against her strands of hair. “I really do love you.”

“Do you think we’ll be fine?” She asks him. It’s more of a need for confirmation – the reason for confirmation is murky.

“I don’t know.” His heart feels like it’s beating harder than usual, and he’s pretty sure she can also feel it. “I’ll try.”

Jealousy is a vile disease that can overtake and completely alter a person. And she realizes that the man who usually instills jealousy in those around him is also capable of being infected.

eight - winter

Tonight’s drink of choice is his usual Manhattan poured into a whiskey glass and garnished with a fresh slice of lemon instead of his usual olive, cherry, or lemon peel twist. However, it sits untouched on a handmade coaster on the desk in its owner’s office while the owner is nowhere to be found. Condensation on the outside surface of the glass pools at the bottom of the circular glass, held together in a ring thanks to cohesion forces. The cubed block of ice that sat in the middle of the sink now floats to the top in a sort of watery layer just above the alcohol. Pitch-black is what describes the office – nobody would even know Lee Jihoon considered drinking alcohol tonight, let alone visited his office.

Joshua thinks his boss is probably in his office calculating the cost of each ounce of alcohol against the recipe for every drink, knowing how stingy he can be. He also notices the lack of a cheerful presence that makes his boss’s ears flush bright red. But he doesn’t say anything about it, after all, bartenders are always here for the gossip but never participate in spreading gossip.

Jihoon sits in the dark of his grocery store near the entrance where the porch light shines brightly through the glass windows. His shoulder blades, especially the upper area towards the middle of his neck and shoulders, are screaming in pain. And the empty crate he uses as a stool is anything but comfortable.

It’s not a particularly big grocery store. It’s more like a rectangular hole-in-the-wall about the size of the speakeasy's kitchen. There are open crates of neatly stacked fruits and vegetables in front of the counters for customers to choose themselves while all of the other goods are behind the counters. Where walls of groceries line the four walls and the walking space is only large enough to have five different customers comfortably shop at once, Jihoon feels that the tiny front for his speakeasy becomes his sort of personal sanctuary. His sister is barely at home now that she’s in the process of moving most of her stuff to Seokmin’s place, and the tiny changes he made around the house to accommodate his girlfriend remind him too much of her. His office is much too cold and stress-inducing to be in alone during Winter. And the speakeasy is noisy and rowdy where his presence only instills fear in others or causes him to be whisked away in some conversation he doesn’t want to take part in.

So sitting in the only place he can seem to find comfort may be the only way he can truly accept the fact that in the ninth month of getting to know the woman with the big dreams and fake pearls, she is slowly becoming a stranger to him as he is to her.

A single kiss, a peck on the cheek is what she would leave him with before parting every time he dropped her off at the backdoor of the matinee. Now she has a private chauffeur who picks her and her agent up to bring them to wherever her schedule needs her to appear. And it tore out a piece of his heart when she told him that it was for the best especially when she started developing a strong hatred towards speakeasies. In fact, most of their more recent fights were about his job and how she can’t be around people who are associated with something so illegal and vile.

For two people who spent the majority of the year together, each recent meeting feels like an awkward exchange between two people whose lives are moving ahead with barely any space for the other to exist. Where one is preparing for the end of her musical run and the new musical production she’s been cast in, the other one is busy switching seasonal grocery stock and preparing his speakeasy for a VIP. She’s been on more fake dates in a week with her co-star in an industry-fueled scheme to generate more revenue before the musical run ends than she has in a month with her real boyfriend. Even the thrill of sneaking around with each other seemed to have worn off.

One is a woman who came from nothing and now has everything she ever wanted and wants more. The other is a man who came from something and is content with what he has.

Perhaps the thing he most wants is to understand her just a little more. He doesn’t understand the new words and phrases she integrated into her daily jargon and wonders about what or how she thinks of him now that she is on the way to having everything she ever wanted. It’s not like he wants more, no. He’s truly content with what he has. But he can’t help but wonder if love is just the beautiful landscape she spends some time driving through on her road to the glitz and glamour of stardom. If he is simply a backdrop, then why did she even want to pursue him in the first place? Why did he allow himself to fall in love? Why was she so adamant about picking up all of her phony loose pearls when she doesn’t care about buying real ones anymore?

Jihoon knows that life is as fragile as the soft waxy pear he holds in his hand – how a fruit could be so delicate to the touch, but farmers still swatch on a layer of protective wax to keep it from getting bruised and dehydrated with hopes that the fruit would journey safely into somebody’s grocery bag. One single and firm squeeze of the fruit in his palm could turn it into mush and have the juice drip down his fist in globs. Driving a single stomp through the barrel of neatly stacked pears would not save them from becoming absolutely demolished. Protective wax does nothing. Trying to protect himself from getting hurt like that thin coat of fruit wax does absolutely nothing as long as he is in love. And love may just as well be something as fragile as life.

Hand reaching for nothing and hitting the inside of an empty crate, Jihoon quickly retracts his hand while feeling a bit embarrassed for not noticing that he’s done stocking the pears. Having nothing to do causes a wave of loneliness, no, nostalgia to wash over him like the moonlight over the tumbling ocean waves. The fact that she brings up the fact that he owns a speakeasy every time they argue is frequent enough that the thought always lingers at the back of his mind. He can’t comprehend how she somehow started hating speakeasies almost overnight and hates the fact that he is the owner of one. She tells him that it would be better if he left the speakeasy to Seungcheol to manage the grocery store full-time. Looking at everything around him from the walls of products to the shiny wooden floors to the long flowerbeds placed against the walls of windows, he doesn’t know if he could ever give up the speakeasy to work at a place he loves so dearly. Maybe one day in the future when the Prohibition gets lifted, he would turn the speakeasy into something else.

Right now, he is not willing to give up something that he loves. The Diamond Glass is his home, and his employees are his family members. Giving up something as precious as his speakeasy is not something that he would even consider putting on his bargaining table even if it means losing the love of his life. Unwillingness to give up on something he loves for someone whom he loves results in him thinking about the version of his love in the darkness of the grocery store. The version of her with the flimsy dress, the version of her as a fling, the version of her he was afraid to love, the version of her as his love, the version of her he is growing apart from – he thinks about them all. Imagining an alternate universe where she is as unchanging as he is, a version where they can wake up in bed together only to laze around till four in the afternoon – it might be a selfish concept, he thinks. Previously uninhabited space in his brain, now filled with her to the brim, he’s not strong enough for it to spill over until it empties.

A flood of light washes into the grocery store at an angle when the employee door behind the counter opens. Choi Seungcheol stands at its opening with an unsmiling look on his face. Jihoon looks back at the older man, pausing before he sighs and wipes his hands on his pants.

“They’re in your office,” Seungcheol tells his boss.

“Who the hell let them in here?” Jihoon sighs while standing up, stretching his back before heading towards where his employee stands. It doesn’t take many contexts to fully understand what Seungcheol meant when he used the pronoun. Even more so, Jihoon immediately deduced the topic of the incoming conversation and the approximate amount of time the less-than-amicable conversation would take.

“I dunno,” the older man shrugs. “It’s not like we can turn them away. We do need business with them.”

nine - winter

Bursting through the office door and swinging the door open with so much force that the door ricochets off the wooden doorstop and wobbles while being supported by its hinges, she stomps with a fury unmatched by no other. In her wake are a scorching fire and the apologetic part-time bouncer who tried his best to stop her without ever laying a hand on her.

“I-I’m sorry. I tried,” the bouncer with the circular glasses tries to explain himself to his boss. “I-I told her that today’s not a good day, and that you’re-”

“I’m going to make you develop a complex,” the boss seethes through his teeth without moving his mouth to attempt a straight and dignified-looking expression in her presence. Capping his solid gold Sheaffer pen from the old gift set, dropping the expensive item on his stack of papers, and leaning back in his office chair with an annoyed expression on his face is more than enough to send bouncer out the door, scrambling and slamming the door shut behind him.

Jihoon doesn’t respond to his girlfriend, though he makes sure to look at her, studying her smudged stage makeup and the new expensive decoration that hangs from her neck. Silence between the couple becomes a waiting game, a game that anticipates the drop of a guillotine strong enough to cut the tension developed. Pulling the lever, she slices through and continues the journey she embarked on since her last show.

“Lee Jihoon,” his name cracks like a lightning strike – powerful yet lonely – emitted from her atmosphere. “How could you?”

Outside the guarded office door, the VIP speakeasy crowd roars in laughter and cheers. Glasses clink and specially ordered wooden chairs scrape against the sticky floors while speakeasy singers entertain their audience for the night. If Lee Jihoon is the owner and boss of this establishment, then the middle-aged woman who sits at the circular mini table right in front of the stage is the king.

This middle-aged woman with a kind face whose deep smile lines appear when she smiles at others in her acknowledgment is the sole supplier of the Diamond Glass’s alcohol. One misstep, one thought of collusion against her, one simple miscalculation on proposals can erase the Diamond Glass from existence including its workers, leaving the local police with a cold case unsolved for years because they would have nothing, to begin with. Hoping to never upset the king before the Prohibition ends, Lee Jihoon will do anything to maintain his healthy and trustworthy relationship with her and her cohort.

Right now, with her in his office, there is so much more than just simply trying to be business partners with the speakeasy’s current private clients. Because of this, agitation is what makes his leg shake. Fear is what causes him to snap at his girlfriend. Ultimately, this sparks a negative chain reaction foreseeable by anybody since the beginning of Autumn.

Get out are the only two words he can manage to snap at her. His right pointer finger pointed at his office door and his right arm trembles in its extension. Himself, the man sitting in his office chair, feels nothing but anger and fear from seeing his girlfriend in a place in which she should not be seen – a place she upbraided and proclaimed to be untenable in its legality.

“How could you?” she asks again in an accusing tone, her hands forming into tight balls of fists so that her knuckles visibly pale. “You liar. You promised you would be there for my last show. Why weren’t you there? You have so many employees working for you, and you’re not even out there. You’re just sitting in your office doing something you can do another time. Everybody’s partners were there for them at the afterparty yet I rushed here.”

Jihoon sits up from his seat, folding his hands on his desk. He takes a good look at the musical actress in front of him – prim and proper looking, her hair styled in neat curls, and the elegant and flowy black Lanvin Robe de Style which he finds to indicate she took time to change out of her costume into something non-inconspicuous. Paris’s House of Creed’s Angélique Encens set to be released in the early 1930s floats around her like a thin veil of mist. The sensual powdery-floral cut by the salty ambergris beautifully blended with vanilla and tuberose was said to be a pre-release gift from the founder of the perfume house. He thinks about the time when she accidentally dropped the perfume bottle she bought back in ’17 on her wooden floors. She thought nothing of the accident – no indication of dejection while picking up the broken pieces of glass and causally mentioned the perfume incident in an interview. The next day, a fresh bottle and a bouquet of roses were gifted to her from the perfumery. He’s not sure if the new bottle ever made it out of her closet. He’s not the type to compare himself to others – no, his confidence and self-assurance are too high for that – but he can’t help but wonder whether or not he can say her name the way he used to.

When you love someone, a name isn’t formed from the mouth but from the heart. The image of her in his head, once formed and sculpted from his skinny love, still exists in his hippocampus. Happiness when he sees her, the rush of dopamine when he feels her fall asleep again him after a long day, never originated from the limbic cortex. Fully believing it, even now at this moment despite the circumstances, he believes it was passed to him by her. Where her name is formed from his heart, she is his entire heart. And it hurts him to even consider the fact that she he holds close to his heart may just as well walk away with a piece of him that would never be returned.

It is the last time he says her name from his heart. He tells her to leave, that it’s not safe. He doesn’t want his bodyguards to ever lay a hand on her. It’s for the best, he tells her. We’ll talk about it tomorrow. He’s afraid of the fact that literal gangsters in the building would scare her, and he’s not about to compromise her integrity. For her sake, he feels that keeping the fact to himself, letting her walk over him if she has to, may keep her safe.

“But there’s no tomorrow,” she almost wails, stomping her feet even. She’s frustrated that she had to attend the party celebrating the end of the season alone, frustrated over his stolid attitude over everything. She just wishes he could’ve been there with her experiencing one of the most important moments of her life.

Shooting out of his chair, sending it backward from the force with which he pulls himself up, he slams his hands on his desk. “Leave,” he yells at her.

“Choose,” she lays down her ultimatum for him. “Me or the speakeasy.”

“Diamond Glass,” he chooses without hesitation. Albeit, the expression he notices form on her face causes him to feel restive in his response. “Me or your fake boyfriend?”

“Fake boyfriend?” She feels her skin prick with coldness. “Do you have to bring him up every time we get into an argument?”

“What?” The tone of his voice is anything but amicable. “So you’re only here to argue with me for a little bit before you storm off to your little boy toy. What happened to compromise? What happened to me being the most important person in your life?”

“Compromise?” She seethes. “I literally told you that my new agent sprung it upon me when I met him.”

“The easiest phrase you can say as an actress is ‘no comment.’ Or are you so far up your ass and your glitz and glamour that all you can do is be hotsy-totsy with all the men around you? Do you even think about me? Or do I only appear in your mind when you need me?”

“So what about me living the life I always wanted? So what if I have to fake date rich men while keeping this persona they built for me? Men, any men, regular men, rich men, they can all get in and out of relationships and marriages whenever they please and they wouldn’t be shamed for it. They can marry whenever and whoever they please and not be looked down upon. This includes you, Jihoon,” her voice dips when she says his name. There is a crack in her voice that Jihoon absolutely hates hearing because it means anything but her happiness. “All they want women to do is marry and have kids. But I get to escape that expectation because of my job. The leading lady was fired because she auditioned for another job. So what if the world found out that the understudy had a boyfriend? I would be a joke. I would be forced out of the industry, blacklisted for not taking my job seriously.”

“Why do you care so much about what other people think?” He almost wants to shout at her, to hurl his chair against the wall. “Given my connections, you would never be forced out of the industry.”

“You don’t get it do you?” Her knees buckle. “I never wanted to rely on you.”

“Then what did you want me for?” He can’t contain himself anymore. He shouts at her in frustration. “A good fuck? A summer fling? Someone to fix because your life was so boring before me?”

“I just wanted you by my side,” she shouts back.

“And I was always by your side.” He’s so frustrated that tears well up in the inner corners of his eyes. “I was always by your side even when I wasn’t in love with you. I was by your side this whole time even if you never felt it. I was by your side even when I didn’t understand. When I didn’t understand why you loved me. When I didn’t understand the words that came out of your mouth. When I didn’t understand why you don’t even look at me the way you used to.”

“And what was the way I used to-” She cuts herself off, stopping so she can point her head to the ceiling so that he doesn’t have to look at her sob. “Fuck.” The realization slaps her in the face.

“Shit,” Jihoon has no choice but to cuss. His face stabs with pain, and his arms feel numb. But heaping globs of tears stream down his face, and he breaks down on his spot – choked sobs and trembling shoulders, unable to look her in the eye. He also realizes the same thing – she doesn’t love him anymore.

Lee Jihoon doesn’t remember how he ended up in the middle of the VIP party’s crowd, drunk off of giggle water. Tonight, he can’t even bring himself to flirt with the woman who he plants himself behind, bringing her ass to his dick while she grinds on him on the dance floor. Everything feels so foreign to him – letting go, straying from his usual Manhattan, people prying him off of someone new, crying, being single, sobbing, crashing on someone’s couch, blacking out. He doesn’t know who he is or where he is. The only thing he remembers is seeing a piece of his heart leave when she left him in his office and the realization that they are no more.

Not even a sense of familiarity can rush over his inebriated self when he feels a heavy blanket cover his shivering body. Seungcheol, no; his sister, no; Seokmin…the king? He can’t quite differentiate whose couch it is that he is laying on or who it is who is consoling him.

“We can never go back to who we were before love,” the unidentified voice reassures him. “After love, we are just as different. But it takes time to create a better us than who we were when we were in love. After all, time and feelings change. You have loved yourself before, Jihoon. And you will love yourself again.”

“Feel broken,” he manages to slur through his tears. He hasn’t stopped crying since being dragged out of the speakeasy “Gone.”

“But it doesn’t mean you can’t find yourself in the future.”

epilogue - spring '39

Lee Jihoon carries a toddler in his arm, someone whose eyes curl the same way he does when he smiles. He hands him an apple, a gorgeous waxy Red Delicious that is arguably too big for the toddler’s hands.

“Hold tight,” Jihoon tells the child. “Or it would fall and roll away. Then we can’t sell the apple.”

But the fruit immediately falls from the toddler’s hands, bouncing and rolling towards the other side of the newly renovated grocery store.

After all these years, the mom-and-pop grocery store manned by the Diamond Glass’s workers and families still stands proudly while facing the busy street before it. And the Diamond Glass, converted into a bar, has since made a name for itself after the Prohibition. The establishment with its criminal origins, instead of deterring people away, only attracts and appeals to the public.

The bell above the front door clanks when a new customer steps inside. And the quick burst of air caused by the act of opening the door drowns out what the new customer says to their driver.

In the meantime, Jihoon sighs and looks at the child in his arms – the kid whose lips quiver from making a mistake. He decides to let him go and squats to tell him that his mom would send him into exile if he ever made him cry. “Even worse,” he whispers to the child, “Seokmin would cry if he ever saw you cry. And you know how much your dad cries. But go get Uncle Seungcheol for me. We need more people in the front.”

A few minutes after the boss feels a gentle tap on his right shoulder. But he chooses to ignore them and instead calls for Seungcheol to help with the customer. He feels the tap again, this time with a little more pressure. So he turns his head from his stack of apples on the ground, looking up at the customer standing behind him.

She holds the dusty and bruised apple in her outstretched hand. And he notices the freshly coated swatch of lacquer that decorates her nails. His eyes trace up her gams to her tweed Chanel skirt and the matching blazer which sculpts her shoulders. In contrast to her expensive designer wear is the scuffed and faded pearl necklace which sits proudly around her neck – a contrasting centerpiece to her outfit. And he can tell that they’re fake, just like the ones that scattered and clacked against his once illegally sticky speakeasy floors.

Seungcheol’s head pops from the doorframe to the employee door behind the grocery store counter. “Who is it?” he asks his boss.

Jihoon looks at her in her eyes, the same pair of twinkling eyes he could never forget, and answers his question, “An old friend.”

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odusseus-xvi · 9 months

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Hello helloooo friend! Hi! I just wanted to say that I'll be going around and asking people about QSMP characters to avoid mischaracterization of said characters (in analysis, fics, and just overall fan interpretations). So if you're cool with it, can I ask you about the French streamers?

Like, can you tell me the mischaracterization you often see regarding their characters and how they actually are? I mean, ANY facts about them would be very very cool to know! I love all of them and I would really like to know more about them since I can't really watch everyone, ya kno?

Yes I would love to :D ! But also, keep in mind, I'm not immune to a bit of mischaracterization (that's how you write that right ?), sometimes I probably do a little bit, though I try my best not to. I have to admit, I don't see a lot, or just little things, and mostly from the english side of the community, cause over here with the french we are a really small part of the overall fandom, so I don't have a lot of interactions, AND it's our first (ever) smp like that (semi rp etc...), we never had that over here in France, it's a new thing both for us and the ccs, so we are getting our footing. But here we go I do have some things I can say : (wrote a fricking novel holy)

q!Baghera Jones : I see a lot of people characterize her as this hyper competent investigator that knows everything etc... In a way she is, she is a good investigator, and is always eager to solve the mysteries of the island ; What people miss most of the time is that she is also (it's not mutually exclusive) a Goofball : She sings randomly, she walks on mines and jumps off buildings willingly for the lols, some people say she witholds information, most of the time she actually just Forgor. Something that people do get most of the time is that she genuinely is really empathetic : She loves Walter Bob, two days ago she talked about how Cucurucho may be manipulated, she is worried about Quackity, about Cellbit, Foolish, Jaiden etc... And outside of petty rivalry (mostly with Forever, BBH, Etoiles, and a bit Cellbit) she is not a vengeful person at all. She is very understanding. Oh and almost forgot : She is surprisingly insightful ; She guessed what was happening to Cellbit as one of the firsts, she immediatly figured Gegg out the first day she met Slime, ElQuackity is VERY obviously another person than Quackity at first glance etc...

q!Etoiles : There was for some time a bit of mischaracterization in the way people saw him as a bloodthirsty killing machine, though it is fading steadily as we speak ; He is a really nice person that lifts up others, gift them things whenever he can, cares about the eggs, and is always reactive when it comes to saving or helping others. Also, he is a badass in the eyes of everyone (ccs and fandom) but people have a way to write that in fics that doesn't really match him : They write a badass and dark character that is mostly silent and cool ; Etoiles is NOT that (he is badass yes but not much the rest), he SAYS he is that, that he is "dark, and broody, and mysterious", but the guy is always cracking jokes, about others, about himself, he is very self-aware of his problems (social and health related) and likes to joke about it because "it puts smiles on the faces of people" (his way of cheering people up most of the time : "You are not useless, you put smiles on my and the people's faces, and that wonderful"). The moments that CAN be a bit dark is when he is asking for a fight ; most of the time it's goofy, but then there is moments like the dinner party when the codes revealed themselves, where he will be saying while everyone panics "Yeah... Yeah.. FINALLY ! FINALLY !!" and you realise he is not to be trifled with. He aslo tends to blame himself when something wrong happens ; to him, HE is the one that misplayed, that made a mistake.

q!Aypierre : Some people could see him as a relatively chill dude ; he talks calmly, never screams and very rarely raises his voice, but he is NOT chill : He is the most gremlin of the french, his favorite past-time in all the smps he's been in is pranking and breaking the servers : Two days ago in his 24 hour stream, he broke in the federation base three times, exploded a bunch of stuff in there, tortured Foolish alongside BBH, summoned lightning to make Foosh and BBH believe Gegg is still alive in front of his infinite Gegg generator, rickrolled Cucurucho etc... He is a every ingenuous guy with ways to build factories of everything. Most people, out of the french, would fear Etoiles because he is always begging for a fight, and fought and won against the code several times, but he is a nice guy, who they probably SHOULD fear, is Aypierre, this guy can be EVIL at times ; He loves contracts and deals, and using those against the others. He is not all evil though. He does care about Pomme, the french, and is willing to help others when they need him, though he likes to make exchanges.

q!Antoine Daniel : Antoine is probably the hardest to write or get when you are not used to him. He has such a way of speaking and a weird twisted humor that to someone not french, and not watching his streams regularly, it's REAL hard to get him right. He is an apreciator of dark humor and cynicism ; Joking about Bobby in front of Pomme is an example, though he is starting to be more compassionate about the eggs than he was at the beginning of his journey on the smp. Probably because of one of my posts and some others, a lot of people see him as incredibly paranoïd, and for a time he was, though he said himself (both in and out of character) that it was starting to get better because people came talked to him about it, there IS still remains though. What's interesting is that he can be both paranoïd, AND incredibly insightful : His takes are either the rambling of a madman, or scarily on point. Though he is rarely willing to help others (both because of his next to level 0 skills in minecraft and general air of "I don't care"), he is always on alarm and willing to help when it comes to the eggs, multiple times he ironically is one of the most reactive ones when it comes to realise there is danger or a problem for the eggs ; Though he is relatively self-centered, he is very compassionate and attentive of the eggs, with Pomme potentially being the person he trusts most. (everytime he acts aloof and cynical on his stream, to then immediatly worry about Pomme's well-being warms my heart.)

q!Kamet0 : AHAHAHAHAH ahAHaHhah, ahahah... ahah.. ah. oh. (he left for cigarretes)

(HOLY SHIT I WROTE A NOVEL. Sorry, didn't excpect to have that much to say. But here you go, hope that helps.)

#qsmp #qsmp baghera jones #qsmp antoine daniel #qsmp aypierre #qsmp etoiles #qsmp antoine #qsmp baghera #qsmp france #qsmp french

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topguncortez · 1 year

Note

Not 100% sure how to request but

[ KISS ] receiver stops what they’re doing to kiss sender with Bob?

pairing: Bob Floyd x pilot!reader warnings: none! fluffy! prompt list | master prompts list Bob Floyd Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Bob wasn't much for PDA. Maybe it was because he was shy, or maybe it was because he had never really had a partner before that cared to be with him. Bob's past relationships hadn't ever been anything that lasted long. A couple weeks or months, until they got fed up with Bob's shyness. Bob had almost given up on love, until he met you.

You were like a breath of fresh air for him. You were the opposite of Bob; outspoken, had a wild streak, was not afraid to back down from Hangman. You were one of the only people that Bob felt 100% comfortable around.

Bob was watching you from the other side of the rec room, as you threw your head back in laughter from something Coyote said. Bob watched as Hangman rolled his eyes and threw his arm around your shoulders. Bob didn't think anyone saw the shift in his face as he watched your interaction with Hangman, but another quiet WSO did.

"He's got his hands on your girl," Fanboy said, flopping down on the couch next to him.

"W-Who?" Bob asked, looking away from you.

"Hangman has his arm around Y/C/S," Fanboy said, "Your girl."

"She's not-"

"Since when do you lie?"

"I'm not-" Fanboy gave Bob a pointed look and the WSO sighed in defeat, "She's just. . . different. I'm not sure she completely likes me the way I like her."

"Are those things up to date," Fanboy said, reaching out to touch Bob's glasses. Bob slapped his hand away and Fanboy laughed, "Y/N loves you. It's obvious. And everyone else can see it. You two aren't as subtle as you think. We all saw you two run off to the bathroom last night at the Hard Deck."

Bob blushed as the memories of last night flooded his mind. He had never been one for having a quickie in such a public place, but he couldn't help himself. The two of you were both surprised as he pulled you down the hallway and towards the bathroom, but neither one complained.

Bob felt a burst of confidence in his body, and pushed himself up from the couch. Fanboy watched with wide excited eyes as Bob walked over to the group of pilots on the other side of the room. Coyote was the first to notice Bob's presence.

"Hey, Floyd," Coyote greeted, "What're you doing here?"

"Oh nothing," Bob shrugged. You looked at your partner and smiled, "Just this," You furrowed your eyebrows as Bob grabbed your face and kissed you. Hangman let out a whistle and Fanboy pumped his fist in excitement.

"Hi," Bob said, pulling back from the kiss.

"Hi, yourself," You smiled and kissed him again.

#top gun #top gun fan fic #top gun imagine #top gun fan fiction #top gun maverick #top gun maverick fan fiction #top gun maverick fan fic #top gun maverick imagine #bob floyd #bob floyd fan fic #bob floyd fan fiction #bob floyd imagine #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x you #bob floyd x y/n

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friendly-neighborhood-imbecille · 10 months

Text

Only 900 words, still looking for a title, art at the end. @schnuffel-danny @lemon-snake

Jack Fenton was a peculiar man. Intelligent, yet idiotic. Intimidating, yet soft. He was the most normal and easy to understand man that Vlad had ever met in his life, yet he made absolutely no sense.

For twenty two years Vlad had resented Jack, hated him even. He had tried to kill the man, but what had Jack done in return? He laughed, invited Vlad over, sent him gifts, letters, cards with dumb jokes on them, he even sent a cat when he worried that Vlad wasn’t getting enough social interaction. No doubt Daniel was the one to give him that idea, but the way he proudly smiled when Vlad accepted the offering rather than slamming the door in his face. Why couldn’t he stop thinking about it?

A peculiar man indeed. No other was able to get under Vlad's skin in quite the same way. It was easy to hate him, so why was it getting harder to enact his revenge plans as time went on? Why was it harder to keep away since the reunion? Why was it so much harder to hate Jack when he was sitting right in front of him?

For years, all he wanted was to eliminate Jack, and live out the rest of his life with Maddie by his side. For so long, this was the only route to happiness. But now? The path didn’t seem so clear.

He had believed he could never be as happy as he was before the accident, not without Jack dead and Maddie by his side. But recently that ideal world has shifted. Just as his dreams changed last year to include Daniel as his son, they were changing again to bring Jack by his side. But this made no sense. It was Jack who ruined him, Jack who destroyed his life, Jack who killed him.

But the more he thought about it, the more complicated it became.

Yes, it was Jack that activated the portal. Yes, if not for Jack, he would still be human. Yes, it was because of Jack that he went through years of medical torture, but Jack was not the only variable. He could just as easily say it was the hospital’s fault for allowing its doctors to run those tests and experiments, that it was his fault for getting so close to the portal, or even dear sweet Maddie’s fault for having a large hand in developing the technology necessary to create the portal.

It seemed so silly to pin everything that went wrong in his life on one single man. A man who had, in truth, meant none of it.

Of course, there was the matter of Jack leaving him alone to rot all those years. Not one single phone call in twenty two years. But Maddie didn’t call either. He had resented Jack for abandoning him, but didn’t Maddie do the same? He always excused her absence, reasoning that she was unable to contact him while he was in the hospital, and then may not have known how to contact him after his escape, so why didn’t he excuse Jack’s absence the same way?

And why was he learning to excuse it now?

Vlad stood up and made his way to the library. Maddie, his cat, close at his heels. She really was quite the affectionate animal. Though he did feel a tad bit insulted by the gift at first, he had grown to appreciate her as a companion. It was nice to have someone to take care of.

He knew she should be an unwelcome reminder of his old friend. But strangely, when he looked at her and thought of how excited Jack was to gift her to him, how it didn’t take thirty seconds before the man revealed what he was hiding behind his back, the way his hands shook and his entire body bobbed up in down in anticipation for Vlad’s reaction, he felt amused, endeared even.

This was all so confusing. For twenty two years he had hated this man. For twenty two years, Jack Fenton had been the bumbling idiot that had cost him his life, his love, his freedom, but when he thought of the man now, it wasn’t hate he felt.

He didn’t hate Jack Fenton.

As he sat in his armchair, Maddie the cat in his lap, and a book he didn’t remember picking up in his hand, he realized that his entire world was changing.

He didn’t hate Jack Fenton.

Shit.

———

Jack Fenton sat at his kitchen table, trying to make sense of the strange readings the scanner he was working on was emitting when he heard a small knock on the front door, followed soon after by the doorbell.

He stood up, chair scraping against the floor and made his way towards the source of the sound. “I’ll get it!”

He reached the door and was met with the most peculiar sight upon opening it.

There stood Vlad, standing straight up, breathing heavily, dressed in the nicest suit Jack had ever seen, hair frazzled (yet obviously expertly styled not long ago), a fistful of flowers and the odd blade of grass in hand, many petals missing, stems bent, and what looked like roots with clumps of dirt still attached at the bottom of some.

“Hello, do you know about polyamory?”

#danny phantom #vlad #jack fenton #fic #fanart #shitpost #my art #my writing #family breakfast #still figuring out how to draw Vlad

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theteasetwrites · 2 years

Text

Soft Spot | Part 2

❧ Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female Reader ❧ Era: Season 1 ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: SMUT—fingering, praise kink, finger licking, doggystyle, missionary, gentle sex, Daryl being soft, swearing, violence, Merle being a creep ❧ Word Count: 6.4k

❧ Requested by @deathishereditary (this request—this is the second part)

❧ Summary: Adjusting to life in Daryl’s camp, you have a less than enjoyable interaction with Merle when he is caught spying on you changing in your tent. Daryl leaps into protective mode, and you just admit, it awakens something in you.

❧ A/N: Here it is! The smutty sequel to Soft Spot. I really love this Daryl x Reader couple, they're so cute! I honestly don't even care if this Daryl is OOC (in my opinion, he isn't OOC... I could genuinely see him being this soft/cutesy with his SO, but maybe that's just me lol). Also I came so close to adding a daddy kink but I restrained myself.

Daryl watched with a sharp, alert gaze as you dipped yourself in the water, nude and vulnerable in the middle of walker-infested woods, but you insisted upon him taking you further out, away from the prying eyes of the group at the quarry, who still were amazed by your presence, even after a week had passed since Daryl found you.

“A nice bath,” you had said. “I need a nice bath, Daryl. Please?”

As usual, he relented, taking you out to a pond nestled amongst the trees in the forest just outside the camp. It was perfect for privacy, it being shrouded in trees and bushy overgrowth, but his main concern was walkers, as usual. That, and you were still recovering from your two-day-old injury, walking with a slight limp that sent a sharp pang of hurt through his own body. If you needed to run away, he was sure he’d have to carry you, but what you wanted was what you would get, as far as he was concerned.

“Don’t go too far now!” he hollered to you. “Best to stay close, shallow end.”

You smiled and shook your head. “You should come in! The water feels so good… And you’re filthy, Daryl.”

He scoffed. “‘M fine.” Of course, the water did look inviting, and so did you, with your breasts bobbing ever so slightly in the weak current. His drawn out stare brought a blush to your cheeks, and you subconsciously covered your breasts, despite knowing he’d seen them many times before.

“Can’t you just come in for a little bit, pumpkin?” you asked sweetly, playing on his weakness for you. Of course, you always used your power for good; he could never say no to you, and you used that to get him to do things that you were sure would be good for him. This time, you were determined to get him clean. For his own good. “For me?”

He chewed thoughtfully on his bottom lip, fiddling with his crossbow as he leaned back on the tree he’d been dutifully standing guard at. He had to admit, he was filthy, caked in dirt and blood and sweat and God knows what else. Probably tree sap, which made him slightly flammable. He was sure he’d brushed up against some poison oak, too, and that was the last thing he wanted to deal with, on top of everything else going on.

“What about the walkers?” he asked you. “Someone’s gotta keep watch.”

“You can keep watch in here,” you laughed. “Please, sweetheart?”

A flash of your wide, batting eyes was enough to push him over the edge. He stripped himself of his clothes rather quickly, hoping to get the whole ordeal over with so he could go back to watching out for walkers again, then marched towards the edge of the pond with his crossbow and knife in hand, naked.

You found yourself beaming at the image of him stripped bare, dipping himself in the pond while he rather reluctantly set his weapons on a rock for ease of reach. “I ain’t gonna be in here long,” he said. “We should get back soon, anyway. Sun’s gonna start goin’ down in an hour or so. Gotta put some more ointment on your wound.”

You sighed and waded closer to him, your feet barely stepping on the ground below the water. Ignoring his rambling about safety, you reached for your washcloth and raised it above his head to wring the water out over his hair. The light, ashy brown strands stuck adorably to the sides of his face and his forehead, while his face scrunched up tight in reaction.

“We’re going to get you clean, mister,” you said with a smile. “Nice and clean… I just wish we had soap.”

He rolled his eyes, though his quivering lips that curled into an ever so slight, barely detectable smile betrayed him. You began scrubbing his bare chest with your washcloth, though your touch was so light and delicate that you feared you’d have trouble really scraping off all that caked-on dirt and gore.

Your tongue stuck out between your lips just a sliver as you concentrated on getting bits of sticky tree sap out of the sparse forest of short, wiry hairs on his broad chest, the same one you fell asleep on every night. It was good to know it would once again be clean for tonight.

“How did you get tree sap in your chest hairs?” you giggled sweetly.

“That’s for me to know and for you to find out,” he replied, with his usual scoff thrown in. If you hadn’t known him so well, you might’ve thought he was serious, but he was joking with you, you could tell. “Maybe I just wanted an excuse for you to wash me, though…”

“Mhm, sure…” Your smile seemed to fade as you watched the water drip down his chest, suddenly reminding you of how different everything had become, how the world would never be like it was before. Most of all, that intrusive thought snuck up on you again, as it often had at the most inconvenient of times: Do I belong here?

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you said, shaking your head and managing a small smile. “Just thinking…”

“‘Bout what?”

You scoffed and shook your head to throw him off your trail, but he only lowered his gaze and looked more seriously at you, trying to draw the anxiety from your mind out into the open. That intense, blue-eyed gaze was nothing short of immensely powerful.

“I miss our apartment,” you finally said. Your gaze moved downward as you scrubbed his abdomen, trying not to look him in the eyes with the shame you felt in admitting your sadness. “I miss my family. Going to work… Never thought I’d miss that. I think I even miss that stupid squeaky floorboard in the living room, and the overflowing toilet that drove you crazy. I was just thinking about all that.”

He smirked at the memory of your apartment’s terrible plumbing system, and how much you shivered underneath the stream of cold water from the old shower. The water heater was always so fickle, no matter how many times Daryl tried to fix it. The only solution was to get in the shower with you in an attempt to shield you from the direct assault of icy cold water, and to try to keep you warm with his body heat.

“This is better than that damn shower, though,” he said, trying to lift your spirits.

“I suppose,” you laughed. “And at least we have each other, right?”

“Right.” He leaned forward to peck your lips, his eyes fluttering to meet your gaze as his lips gently pulled away, but not too far, as he wasn’t quite willing to leave your lips completely. “Ya know I’d never let anything or anyone hurt you, right?”

You nodded vehemently. If there was anything you knew, you knew that. “Of course,” you said. “You’re my hero.”

“I am?” he asked with a smirk.

“You know you are… Always making me feel safe. You’re so good to me, and I’m such a wimp.”

“Ya know I hate it when you say that.” His hand raised to graze your cheek, and you couldn’t help but lean into his touch, a touch you were so desperate for, as always. “You ain’t a wimp. You’re perfect. I don’t blame ya for bein’ scared, for missing things. Everyone’s scared… Maybe I’m a little scared, too. Scared of losing you.”

You smiled sadly, though you tried to lighten the mood just to keep yourself from crying. “Merle, too?”

He scoffed. “Merle? Pfft, he’s all right, but he ain’t you… My bunny.”

He elicited a soft whimper of surprise from you when he grabbed you by your waist, pulling you against his chest and causing you to drop the washcloth into the water with a splash.

His lips crashed onto yours, sweetly and yet with so much hunger, as he hadn’t been this intimate with you since before you were separated a little over a week ago. For the two days you were at his camp, he’d only touch you to hold you or kiss your cheek, as he knew you were still recovering from your injury. Still, he hadn’t been immune to his desire for you, his innate need to be with you in the way only he could.

He needed your soft, sweet body beneath his, letting him guide you as he drew you closer and closer to abject pleasure. He needed to hear your little moans and whimpers of uncontrollable, carnal bliss as he hit deep into you, gently and with the utmost care, but also with so much passion you swore you saw his eyes roll into the back of his head.

For fear of hurting your leg, he had been holding back the heat that was rising in him, but with you naked, soaking wet, no less, he couldn’t keep pretending he wasn’t desperate for physical intimacy. The privacy helped, too, of course. Sharing a tent with Merle wasn’t the most ideal situation, you’d be the first to admit.

His hand reached below water to take a handful of your ass, the pressure of which sent your core careening into his where you felt his hardening. All the while, his tongue slipped into your gaping mouth to taste you, wriggling it around too fast for your tongue to keep up.

His hand moved around to cup your groin, where he put immense, sudden pressure on your clit. You whimpered into his mouth and trembled in his arms, the way he loved. He loved how you reacted to him, how sensitive you always were. It made him want to be more delicate with you, yet at the same time, he wanted to devour you, to elicit the most lascivious noises from your sweet mouth.

“Daryl,” you laughed against his cheek when he finally removed his lips from yours. His tongue tickled your ear playfully, while his hand rubbed more feverishly at your clit until you gasped and clinged harder to his back. “Daryl! Oh!”

The feeling of his finger gently entering you caused you to open your eyes in shock, and immediately your gaze was drawn to a lumbering figure slowly, but steadily, approaching, coming closer to the pond as it moved between the trees in the summery golden hour.

“Oh, Daryl,” you moaned, somewhere between pleasure and fear. You dug your chin into his shoulder and tapped harshly on his soaking wet back. “Daryl!” you cried out a little louder now, as the walker surely could see the two of you now. “Look!”

He grunted as you hit his back once more. “What?”

His peripheral vision drew him to the sight of the walker getting dangerously close to the pond. “Ah, shit!”

He waded swiftly through the water, back to the edge of the pond to retrieve his crossbow.

He lifted himself up and out of the small reservoir, naked and dripping wet, to lift his weapon and aim it directly at the creature’s rotting head. He shot the thing down, and you breathed a sigh of relief.

He huffed and looked around, now noticing sundown was fast approaching. “Let’s get back,” he said to you, then held out his hand to help you out of the pond. “Could be more comin’.”

The idea frightened you, and yet, you couldn’t help but smile as he wrapped a bath towel around you, rubbing your arms up and down to dry you off. “What’re you smilin’ about, huh?”

You shrugged and watched him tie his own towel around his waist. “Just… I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone shoot a crossbow naked before… Kind of alluring.”

He smirked and shook his head, slightly bashfully, and yet with a hint of mischief. “Let’s get back,” he said again. “We got unfinished business, bunny.”

“What about your brother?” you asked.

He shrugged. “He can sleep outside tonight.”

Night fell not long after returning to camp, and you found yourself brushing through your damp hair as you sat upon the cot you shared with Daryl in his tent. He’d left momentarily to retrieve some MREs from the center of camp, leaving you alone in only your towel, slightly exhausted but eager for Daryl to make love to you as he promised.

You recalled how much Daryl loved when you wore his shirts, how they covered you almost like a short nightgown, and how in the morning after sleeping in them, his shirts would carry your scents reminding him of you.

Stripping the towel from your body, you slowly rose to cross the tent and dig through Daryl’s small pile of clothes. His cleanest shirt at the moment was his old yellow plaid flannel with the sleeves cut off (as he had a habit of doing), so you laid it out on the cot before you, then crossed over again to rummage through the pile of undergarments Daryl had found for you just the day before.

It felt wonderful to slip on that clean pair of panties, and before slipping into Daryl’s shirt, you bundled it up in your hands and held it up to your nose, taking a deep breath as you took in his scent of tobacco and pine. The subtle tickle of the fabric against your bare breasts was exhilarating, and caused you to giggle a little to yourself, though the sound was muffled by the soft shirt held against your lips.

Merle’s beady, sharp blue eyes peeked through the slight crevice of the flaps opening up to your tent. They followed your body’s every move, every heave of your chest as you took in another whiff of Daryl’s comforting scent. You might’ve been able to feel a perverse pair of eyes on you if you weren’t so enraptured, but you couldn’t feel a thing other than the cotton grazing your now clean, bare skin.

He watched you intently, almost suspiciously, as if you knew you were putting on a little show for him, teasing him. When you pulled the shirt away from your chest, revealing your breasts once again, his breath hitched and his smile curled into a cruel smirk. It wasn’t that he was particularly interested in you had you not been with Daryl, but the fact that you were was almost like an overt challenge to his masculinity, and his superiority as the older brother. His younger brother with a woman, while Merle was facing the end of the world on his own? It annoyed him, and so seeing you half-nude was a rather amusing thought to him, and you had a hell of a rack, he thought.

“What the hell are you doin’?!”

Daryl’s voice bellowed and echoed throughout the camp. You flinched, quickly pulling on Daryl’s shirt before buttoning it in a haste. Throwing aside the flaps of the tent, you were met with the image of Daryl ferociously attacking Merle to the ground, the both of them nearly rolling into the flames of the bonfire.

“Get off me!” Merle shouted, though his words were slurred as Daryl’s hand squished his face against the ground. Merle spat before kneeing Daryl in the groin, and he quickly moved to get the upper hand, standing above Daryl, who writhed in pain for just a moment. His anger was enough to get him back up.

He scooted himself back and launched himself up to clasp his hands around Merle’s neck, then pushed him steadily backwards until the older brother’s back was firmly pressed against the nearest tree. His hands tightened around his throat as he snarled, with a low growl punctuating his words: “I’ll fuckin’ kill you, Merle,” he said. “I will… You never, ever watch ‘er, you hear me?”

“Pfft,” he laughed. “You’d kill your own brother for that little slut? Boy, it’s time you grew a pair of balls and stop thinkin’ about hooch all the damn time!”

“Oh, yeah?! That why you were watchin’ ‘er change?! You fuckin’ creep!”

Your legs almost gave out where you stood, and suddenly you felt alien in your own body, ashamed of yourself for not noticing the peeping Tom outside your tent.

Dizziness took over, taking you back into the tent and flinging you onto Daryl’s cot, where you buried your head in his pillow and let loose tears of embarrassment.

Outside, you heard more yelling, more arguing between the two brothers, as well as heavy rustling and hitting that must’ve been indicative of violence.

You only hoped Daryl wasn’t hurt, but judging by the fact that he was the one yelling, you supposed it was him delivering most of the blows.

“You so much as look at my woman again,” you heard him say, “I will gouge your eyes out, Merle. I ain’t fuckin’ joking.”

Your breathing became ragged with fear now, having never seen or heard Daryl acting with such rage. You had seen him angry, but never like this. Never violent towards his own brother, and yet, in a strange way, you found it somewhat endearing. He was protecting your honor, so to speak, even if he was doing it in a rather… unorthodox way.

The fear was intoxicating, exciting, you hated to admit. You knew he would never hurt you, or anyone who didn’t deserve it, but his uncontrollable, impulsive nature filled you with a sense of uncertainty that intrigued you. It was different from the Daryl who made you feel safe and secure. Of course, you still felt that, but slightly more on edge. It was terribly alluring.

“Hey,” he said, much more softly now, though still a little heated from his anger. “You all right?”

He sat himself on the edge of the cot, one hand coming into contact with your back as he rubbed it, the warm, heavy hand soothing you almost immediately.

“Mhm,” you mumbled with a sniffle against the pillow. “I didn’t know he was watching me… I can’t believe he saw me naked, Daryl. How am I going to live that down? I’m so embarrassed.”

He huffed and laid himself down beside you, immediately scooping you into his arms and aligning your body with his. You felt one hand smoothing out your hair, and the other holding yours.

“He brings it up again and I’ll set him straight,” he said. “Promise. Won’t let him bother you.”

You smiled and tugged tighter on his hand before bringing it to your lips to kiss his palm. “You scare me sometimes, Daryl Dixon,” you muttered against his hand. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you that angry.”

He frowned, knowing how much you hated the sound of yelling, how sensitive you were to violence. He’d always tried to never let the side of him come out in front of you, since you preferred his softness, but Merle’s act of perversion and invasion of privacy had driven him over the edge. Ever since you arrived, Merle had a chip on his shoulder, hurling crass comments your way and insulting Daryl for how “pussy whipped” he was. The eavesdropping was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

“Sorry,” he said, burying his face into your hair and tightening his body against yours. “Couldn’t help it. He shoulda known better. He’s lucky he got away with just a bloody nose.”

You squirmed in his arms, somewhere between slight fear and lustful restlessness. His body pressed up to yours did little to distract you from your arousal, but all Daryl felt was your trembling. He felt like a monster, no better than that walker who’d interrupted your bath that evening, or even Merle himself.

“Do I really scare ya, sweetheart?” he asked. “‘Cause I don’t wanna scare ya, not at all… And I’d never, ever hurt you.”

You turned to sit up straight and face him. He stared up at you seriously, with a hint of sadness in his eyes. Even the thought of hurting you was too much to bear. Scaring you was almost just as bad. Someone so sweet and sensitive as you deserved to be protected, not terrified.

“I know that,” you said. “I said you scare me sometimes, not all the time… And besides, I didn’t say I don’t like it.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What d’ya mean by that?” he asked in genuine curiosity. “Thought you hate bein’ scared.”

“I do,” you sighed. “But… I don’t know.”

He sat up beside you, reaching his hand out to sweep back a chunk of hair that hung over the side of your face. “Talk to me, sweet girl. Can’t always just sit there lookin’ pretty. I know you got a lot goin’ on in there.” He tapped the side of your head gently with his index finger, eliciting a giggle from you.

“Well, it’s no big deal,” you said with a shrug. “I just thought it was kind of… nice.”

“Thought what was nice?” he asked, his lips curling into a slight smirk as he started understanding what you meant.

You bit your lip and raised your head to meet his gaze, sharp yet soft, cool yet warm. The man was a walking contradiction, in the best possible way. He could be so cruel and mean, and so sweet and kind, all at once. In any case, he was sensitive. Soft, even. Everything he did was out of softness. Even his anger was born of his love for you.

“You know, how you, um… Stood up for me, I guess.”

But that wasn’t the half of it. It wasn’t just “nice,” it was intoxicatingly attractive.

“In fact,” you continued, “it was… thrilling.”

“Thrilling?”

“Mhm… Exhilarating. Maybe a little too exhilarating.”

You giggled as you thought to yourself about the sound of Daryl’s anger, how much it reminded you of his familiar grunts and groans. The redness and protruding veins all about his face were also reminiscent of a scene you often replayed in your dreams.

He caught on quickly, moving behind you and cradling your body between his legs, which enclosed around you tight. His hands grabbed your waist and scooted you backwards until your ass sat snug with his crotch. You simply had no choice but to be turned on now, damn the embarrassment of Merle seeing you half-naked. All that mattered now was Daryl.

“I got you excited, huh?” he asked, his lips tickling your ear as he whispered. “You got a dirty mind, bunny?”

“No,” you laughed. “I’m as pure as the driven snow. You’re the one who corrupts me… By the way, you promised you’d take care of me tonight.”

He knew from two years of experience that “take care of” was your polite little euphemism for sex. He loved it, though. Taking care of you was perhaps his favorite thing to do.

His hand gently caressed your sides, lifting up his worn flannel shirt you’d taken for yourself with each pass, just enough so he could see your panties, and lick his lips at the sight. “I’ll take care of you,” he whispered. “Don’t I always take care of you, princess?”

“Mmm, yes,” you giggled as his fingertips tickled your sides. “You take such good care of me, Daryl…”

His hands rose to cup your breasts, kneading them slowly as his cheek rubbed against yours, his scruff tickling your soft skin.

“You put this on just for me?” he asked. “‘Cause ya know I love it when you wear my shirts… Love wearin’ it knowin’ you were in it. You’re such a sexy little thing…”

You blushed as he reached up to yank open the top button of the shirt, then the next few until he could slip his hand beneath to tweak at your nipple.

“Daryl!” you giggled.

He groaned hoarsely, almost animalistically, against your ear, and trailed his lips down your neck to leave traces of his saliva.

“I’m gonna make you squirm,” he said. “Gonna make your pussy twitch real nice… You’re gonna whimper just for me.”

“Yes…”

His hand slipped down to grab your clothed crotch, sending you jolting in his arms. Your back arched as you thrusted instinctually against his hand, which held steadfast and strong.

“Horny bunny,” he laughed. “So cute… Let’s get these panties off, sweetheart.”

You nodded and reached down to strip off the dainty fabric, Daryl watching with hazy eyes as your core was revealed to him. He immediately parted your legs, which went limp upon feeling his touch. You anchored your feet to the surface of the cot, ready to feel Daryl’s hand pleasuring you.

The abrupt pressure of his palm nearly sent your legs closing in shock and surprise pleasure, but you quickly melted into his touch as he swirled circles around your clit.

His mouth breathed heavily against your ear, your head thrown back and resting upon his broad shoulder. His fingers moved deftly on your clit, while his other hand kept one of your trembling legs open, pressing firmly on your thigh.

“You’re shakin’,” he said. “I got you, (Y/N). Just relax. Let me take care of you.”

“I—I can’t help it,” you sighed. “It feels so good…”

His fingers let loose for a moment before he flattened his palm and rubbed it up and down your slit. Your teeth clenched as you let out a strained gasp at the feeling, then his fingers stretched to tickle your entrance before his index slipped inside.

Another finger slipped in, and your pussy desperately tightened to feel as much of the girth of his two fingers as you could. When his fingers pulled out, he held them to your mouth, dancing his fingertips over your slightly agape lips.

“Open,” he rasped in a whisper.

You should’ve seen that coming, knowing how much he loved to watch you suck on his fingers.

Your lips opened to greet his fingers, and they closed around them to happily suck, licking the taste of yourself off them all the while.

“Good girl,” he said, holding his forehead tenderly against yours as he watched you obey him. He gently tapped your chin, instructing you to release his fingers. “Let me taste.”

He took his own fingers into his mouth now, and groaned in abject pleasure at the taste of your arousal. “Mmm,” he moaned. “So sweet. You’re such a good girl.”

His kiss took you by surprise, and his tongue filled your mouth to the brim, wriggling around wildly as your own tongue tried to keep up. The vigor of his mouth distracted you for a moment from the movements of his hand, now crazily swirling in tight, hard circles over your circle, digging into your core with each thrust.

“Oh!” you moaned into his mouth. “Oh, yes!”

You bucked your hips to meet his hand until he held it tight against you. His movement stopped so all he could feel was your body rutting desperately against him.

“Please don’t stop!” you begged, panting in exhaustion and need. “Oh, Daryl, please…”

“Sorry, bunny,” he said. “Just wanted to watch you for a sec. You’re my beautiful girl. Just perfect.”

You groaned and smiled deliriously, once again sinking your head onto his shoulder as his hand continued moving. “Right there…”

You grasped at his thighs on either side of you, holding on for dear life as your body climbed to the imminent peak of your pleasure. His rubbing became more vigorous, more sloppy and yet somehow more precise as he gauged exactly where you needed his attention.

Beneath you, his own need for attention was growing, and so was his cock, begging for release from the confines of his pants. You felt him harden, exciting you even more. His hand was wonderful, but his cock was magical.

As your body began to shake and squirm more and more, your ass circling and rutting against his cock, he had to keep himself from coming in his pants, but he was determined to pump himself inside you before his orgasm.

“My cock wants ya so bad,” he huffed. “Can’t wait to be inside you, sweet thing.”

“D-Daryl…” You let loose one of his thighs to grab his hair, combing your hand through it desperately. “I’m almost there,” you said.

He smiled as he kissed your cheek, so innocently, despite the context. Only he could make you feel so pure and light, yet so sexual and, for lack of a better word, dirty.

“That’s it,” he whispered. “Come for me.”

Your face strained as you tried to move your body with more pressure against his hand, with only the goal of reaching the orgasm that threatened to close in all around you.

“Oh, oh… Oh, God!”

Every thrust you made threatened to bring you to the edge, but you weren’t quite there yet. It was like your own body was teasing you, holding you on the brink of abject pleasure just for the fun of it.

“Come on…” you muttered through gritted teeth. “Daryl…”

He rubbed harder, swirling faster and with as much pressure as he could manage. “Almost there,” he encouraged. “Good girl… You’re doin’ so good.”

Finally, you felt the knot in your core release, and with a series of strained whimpers and moans, you felt a cascade of warm, tingling pulses envelop you with each uncontrollable twitch.

“I’m coming…” you sighed as you broke out into a delirious grin, your head rocking back and forth on his shoulder. You could feel his eyes on you, watching your face contorted in pleasure with each pulse of your orgasm.

Beneath the palm of his hand, he felt the twitching of your pussy as he slipped one finger in, just to feel your convulsing walls clenching around him.

“Good girl,” he said again.

His lips attacked the skin under your ear, sucking and licking in appreciation.

Once your twitching stopped, and your ragged breathing became more regular, he wasted no time in unbuttoning the rest of your shirt, then tossing it somewhere in the darkness of the tent.

He then folded his legs underneath him and used his body to pin you to the bed, his entire body weight now above you.

Your body was limp, pliable and ready to be maneuvered however he saw fit. As he lifted his body, he tugged off his shirt, rustling up his hair. All you could hear was his soft groans and deep, guttural pants, and then the clatter of his belt buckle and jeans on the canvas floor of the tent.

His strong hands maneuvered you, lifting your hips and spreading apart your legs as they bent underneath you. With his grip on your waist, you felt the sopping wet tickle of his tongue slowly licking up your spine, causing you to tremble and gasp in your increased state of sensitivity.

His lips stopped at the base of your neck, and his cock slid up your lower back, just above your bottom.

“I’m gonna go inside now,” he said. “Lick my fingers.”

He brought his hand up to your mouth, and you did as he asked, being sure to coat his hand in a thick layer of your saliva. He brought his hand back down to his cock, rubbing the spit all over his shaft before dipping his tip gently into you.

His face buried in your hair, he dug deeper, pulling out just a centimeter or so every few moments.

“You feel so good around my cock,” he whispered hoarsely into your ear, that intense southern accent so shaky as he began to lose control of himself. Every inch he moved deeper inside of you threatened his ability to hold back his jagged, aggressive movements. Still, he had to be gentle with you. He knew you liked it gentle, soft, and sweet, and he liked it that way, too, but he still had that aggressive streak, the one you apparently found to be “exciting.”

He wondered if he could go a little harder on you tonight, since you seemed to like his rough tendencies.

He didn’t have to wonder much longer. “Harder,” you whimpered. “Please, Daryl? A little harder?”

His eyes widened as he continued gently thrusting into you, as he usually did. “You sure, sweetheart?” he asked. “I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“You wouldn’t hurt me,” you said. “Just a little rougher on me, please.”

You wanted to feel him hit hard into you, to hear his animalistic grunts and groans as he neared his orgasm. And yet, you still wanted his softness, his loving touch. You knew he could somehow master both at once.

“Okay.”

He pulled you down closer to his core, sending his cock as far as it could possibly go inside your pussy. You yelped in surprise, but soon you were overtaken with pleasure as his thrusting became slightly more heavy and deliberate, with fewer intervals in between.

You could feel his hot breath on your shoulder, his lips suctioning to your skin as his hands came down to squeeze your breasts, tender and sensitive.

“Oh!” you cried out. “Yes! Daryl!”

“You like that, bunny?” he asked. “Tell me if I hurt you.”

“Oh, it feels so good… Please don’t stop.”

One hand left your breast to paw at your throbbing clit, offering more stimulation as he was determined to have you come around his cock.

“Come for me again,” he panted against your ear. “Come for your man like a good girl… Good bunny.”

Your body twitched and writhed with the overstimulation of his hand and his cock pounding harder than usual, yet still so tenderly and with the utmost care.

His hand applied more pressure to your clit, fingertips circling feverishly and demanding you to come. He needed to feel your walls closing in all around his shaft, milking him until he leaked precum inside of you.

Between his harsh, guttural panting and grunts, and the incessant squeaking of the cot, you could hardly hear anything, senses becoming dull as your body focused on that one point of pleasure, where Daryl’s cock hit your most sensitive spot inside you.

“Ooo,” you sighed. “Right there.”

He hit harder once again, determined to stimulate you even more. All the while, his cock pulsed and throbbed inside you, only sending you into further fits of pleasure.

“Daryl…” you whimpered shakily, almost sounding frightened. “I’m… gonna… come.”

His hand continued to pleasure you, while the other arm wrapped around your torso, keeping you snug tight against him. “I got ya,” he whispered. “I’m right here. Come for me, girl.”

You nodded vehemently, and as his cock continued thrusting, and his hand continued rubbing, you crossed the threshold into bliss once more, writhing and shaking as a string of whimpers and sultry moans slipped from your tender lips.

“Oh, yes!” you cried out. “Yes!”

He laughed deliriously as he felt your soaking wet pussy twitching all around him, strangling his cock in the best possible way.

“Good girl,” he praised against your ear. “Squeeze my cock… That’s it… You’re gonna make me come, too, sweet little thing.”

Your hand shot back as you demanded he hold it, and he did just that, bringing it to his lips to sloppily kiss your palm.

“Oh… I love you…” you sighed dreamily, the shocks of your orgasm calming down. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too,” he said. “So much, princess.”

With his hands on your hips again, he flipped you around until you lay on your back, legs split open and ready to receive him once more.

His cock teased you, sliding up and down your wet slit. Globs of your arousal dotted his length, causing it to glisten in the faint light of the dying lantern.

“Look at that cock,” he said. “You got me all messy… I gotta get you messy now.”

He entered you swiftly, filling you up more than ever before as his cock swelled to its thickest, longest state, reddened and so close to expelling his cum.

With just a few hard, deep thrusts, and some guttural whimpers of his own, he began leaking inside of you just before he tugged himself out.

“Shit,” he grunted, pulling on his cock with great speed until he spurted his cum all over your stomach. His eyes clenched shut, his lips agape, and his chest huffing and puffing, white strings of liquid expelled from his tip, sprinkling your abdomen and breasts in hot, cloudy globs of semen.

He pumped his hand even after there wasn’t anymore to come out, but he still felt the need to touch himself, especially with the image of you below him, messy and covered in his cum.

“That feel good?” he panted.

“Mhm,” you mumbled with a giggle. “So good…”

Despite how lovely it looked on you, he quickly wiped the mess off your belly, then covered you with blankets (even some he’d stolen from Merle’s bed) to keep you warm.

His arms held you tight, your head resting happily on his chest as his hand absentmindedly stroked your hair. Soon the lantern died out, and you fell into darkness with him, but you weren’t scared. In fact, you were the least scared you’d been in a long time. You felt safe, cared for, loved.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asked.

“No,” you replied with a giggle. “I told you, it didn’t hurt. You couldn’t even hurt me if you tried, pumpkin.”

He rolled his eyes, though he couldn’t pretend he didn’t love his special pet name. Oh, you made him so, so soft.

“How’s your foot?” he asked, suddenly remembering your injury. “Shit, I gotta change the bandage.”

He sat up briefly, preparing to rise to his feet to fetch the first aid kit, but your hand upon his chest quickly stopped him. Soft as your touch was, it was strong in that you could control him with just a simple graze of your fingertips.

“It’s fine,” you said. “You can do it in the morning. Hold me.”

His lips quirked sweetly. “That’s what I do best,” he said, and pressed a short, sweet kiss to your forehead, causing your eyelids to flutter in appreciation. “Love you, bunny… My sweet bunny.”

Your heart skipped a beat, as it usually did when he spoke to you like that, so gentle and kind. As much as you found his aggressive nature exciting, it was his soft side that really got you in the end.

“Love you, too, Daryl.”

Thanks for reading! Likes, reblogs, and comments of any kind are always appreciated!

Masterlist

#daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fic #the walking dead #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead fanfic #twd fanfic #twd #twd fanfiction #norman reedus #norman reedus fanfiction #norman reedus fanfic #norman reedus x reader #daryl dixon smut

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stoned-eren · 13 days

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summer character ref!

i realized i never made a character ref for my self insert/oc so here it is <3 she’s a part of the aot universe :3

more information about them under the read more, if you're interested! (it's long i am SORRY)

summary: born in the shiganshina district and part of the 104th cadet corps. they join the survey corps, and ultimately become a part of the special operations squad (squad levi). with a bit of naivety to them, they start off very hopeful for the future of paradis.

as she joins the survey corps, she is in charge of creating maps used for formations and battle strategies. there are also times where she helps in designing equipment, such as the executioner from hell (that large log device used to kill titans) and the new odm gear.

unfortunately, the pressure of dealing with titans on a regular basis, as well as the stressors from her personal life, start to plant a seed of uncertainty in her.

after sasha’s death, she loses a lot of meaningful connections with her friends. she begins to isolate herself and displays behaviors that are abnormal for her, such as excessive fear and panic.

additionally, she loses her ability to maintain a healthy day to day life. no one knows what’s going on- she’s met with resistance towards her “odd” behaviors.

it all becomes too much. since she's unable to “quit”, she runs away, living beyond the walls in a small cabin. she spends her days maintaining her land and learning how to become a fishmonger. her mental health improves slightly, but never really recovers.

occasionally they make trips into marley to sell their fish, forging documents that allow them into the nation. human interaction for them becomes far and few in between, usually only when they visit marley.

her visits to marley really open her eyes; seeing the worst of society. all the blame that’s put on her people, all the injustice, the misinformation.

at first, she takes a neutral stance on the rumbling. ultimately though, she realizes that the rumbling is inhumane and needs to be stopped, so she helps out in the end. she doesn’t fight directly, rather provides support on falco’s jaw titan with levi and gabi.

combat/skills: truthfully, she is not an expert in using her odm gear, being one of the lowest performing students in her cadet days. for some reason, she is unable to get the complexities of the odm gear down, but manages well enough not to get chomped up.

for summer, she is relied upon more for her ability to create diagrams and maps that the survey corps would use, mainly for battle tactics and navigation. she was in charge of making maps for different squads, spending long nights carefully curating each drawing.

personality: summer has an innate curiosity and unique appreciation for the world. she feels a deep connection to nature, the stars, and the moon. she can also be very creative and has a profound love for art, especially paintings and sculptures.

when it comes to interacting with others, she is very shy and withdrawn, opting to avoid individuals rather than approach them. unfortunately, she doesn’t trust easily, making it hard for her to form deep connections with others. nonetheless, she tries her best to be respectful and understanding.

she wants to be an optimist, but has had her hope taken many times, leading her to become increasingly pessimistic as time goes on. her world view can be very negative at times, especially during her visits to marley. but through it all, her love for the world never dissipates. to her, there is always something to find joy in.

appearance: her features are very round and soft. her eyes are an amber color, while her hair is an orange/redhead color. it’s styled to be in a wavy bob with bangs on the left side of her face.

summer is short in stature, no more than 5 feet tall. she has a very flat/emotionless expression most of the time, even when expressing intense emotion. she also has a hard time maintaining eye contact.

relationships: romantically involved with eren. they have known each other since they were children. as kids, they argued a lot, since summer and eren had similar personalities- the two of them being hotheads.

however, as they get older, their passion for the world brings them together. summer has a slight crush on eren during her cadet days, silently pining over him for years. after many awkward smiles and shy glances, eren drunkenly admits his feelings to summer at the party in marley, leading them to start dating.

while summer is living in the cabin, she doesn’t see eren much. when eren becomes a wanted man, he randomly surprises summer with visits that can last a few days. unfortunately he can’t stay for long, otherwise he risks the livelihood of both of them. the two of them simply appreciate the time they have together.

when eren starts the rumbling, they are still together, but summer completely disapproves of his actions, leaving their relationship in limbo (not that it’s that important at that point anyway.) she eventually decides she can’t let him go on with the rumbling and aids in his death.

best friends with sasha. they met in the 104th cadet corps, and instantly became friends after sasha’s potato mishap. sasha and summer’s personalities mesh together perfectly. they stay close friends until sasha’s death, which becomes one of the breaking points for summer.

friends with jean and connie. she’s not as close to them as she is with sasha, but she trusts them greatly and gets along with them very well. connie, sasha, and summer goof off a lot, while jean has to scramble to get everybody back on track. ultimately, the four of them have a solid bond.

aquaintances with mikasa and armin. despite interacting with them since she was a child, she doesn’t know them extremely well. but she gets along with them just fine. she appreciates the level of care they have for eren.

mentored by levi. the two of them have a unique level of trust with each other. levi is familiar with summer’s outbursts and panics, and is able to calm her down alot, especially during battle. summer deeply trusts levi and looks to him for advice and navigating through life. a few sarcastic remarks from levi is all summer needs to push herself forward, or see things from a new perspective.

likes: mystery, thinking deeply, art, the moon and stars.

dislikes: loud noises, being alone, mirrors, and eye contact.

#ok uhh i didnt expect to write that much but lol #also i changed her hair!! i felt like this was much more natural so :>#attack on titan #aot #shingeki no kyojin #snk #art.exe #ocs #self insert #star divider by saradika

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sarcasticsra · 1 year

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I cannot stress enough how much everyone should watch Starkid’s A VHS Christmas Carol if you haven’t seen it yet. It’s pretty short, only about 45 minutes, and it’s truly one of the best adaptations of A Christmas Carol that I’ve ever seen.

No, seriously. I think it has even surpassed The Muppets Christmas Carol for me. That has been my favorite Christmas movie since I was a child. My mom and sister and I used to watch it every Christmas Eve. I still love it dearly and it is an amazing adaptation that I’ll defend to my death, but you guys. You guys. A VHS Christmas Carol is just THAT GOOD.

It’s done in the style of 80s music/videos, which is delightful. It’s an opera, so it’s all sung through, which I love. And it’s so good!

Let me enumerate the ways. Spoilers to follow. (Can you spoil A Christmas Carol? Once a story becomes public domain does that exempt it from spoiling? Idk, lol. Spoilers for the show, anyway. Also for Avatar: The Last Airbender. …I promise there’s a path.)

1) Bah Humbug! - Song number one and it goes hard right from the start. It is everything an opening number should be. Dynamic, sets the tone, and an incredible fucking bop. The interactions between Scrooge and Fred and Scrooge and Bob are done so well, too. You so quickly get a sense of their characters. Obviously we know their characters because this is a story that has been told many a time before, but it does it so well that you would immediately get them even if you were an alien who had never in your existence been exposed to A Christmas Carol in any capacity. That’s impressive to me. It’s not relying on the familiarity of the story to do its character work.

2) 3 Spirits - I love the tone of this song. This is a Marley with true regret and pain who is absolutely pleading with Scrooge to take the chance he’s being given. It’s less “scared straight” and more, “I need you to understand this like you’ve never understood anything before.” Marley becomes a character in his own right as opposed to merely a backdrop for Scrooge to react to. That’s a theme with this adaptation. Characters who are pretty flat in a lot of adaptations seem so much more like real people in this one. Also, whoever decided to cast Meredith as Marley here is a fucking genius. She’s so goddamn talented and she really shines here. The emotion, the weight. Gah. Beautiful. The interplay between Marley and Scrooge is incredible as well; these are two insanely talented performers breathing a new life into tried and true characters, and you really feel the relationship between them.

3) I’m The Ghost - Christmas Past is so pointed and snarky and incredible, making Scrooge come to certain realizations. “Huh, little boy left all alone. Oh, your sister died so young. Didn’t she have a son though? Why are the employees so happy, this party didn’t cost much? Thinking of something? Okay, last stop, buckle up, it’s all your own doing.” I love it so much.

4) That Scrooge - You guys. You guys. They’ve done what I assumed was impossible. They’ve done what even the Muppets couldn’t. It’s a Scrooge-Belle breakup song that isn’t the most unbelievably boring and bland thing you’ve ever heard in your life. Belle is a fucking person! She has a personality! She’s very clearly stating her case, that he’s changed and she doesn’t like it and does he have anything to say? No? Okay, bye! THE EMOTION IN THIS SONG. Scrooge starts singing not just with her but to her! All the things he didn’t say before! And then he starts singing angrily about/at his past!self for being an idiot! You actually FEEL THINGS about this relationship. It was a deep love and losing it super fucked him up! I have never before seen Belle/Scrooge done as well as this one (1) song handles it.

5) Christmas Electricity - Get ready to have this song stuck in your head for ten thousand years. This song is, I believe, the standard classical definition of “a fuckin’ bop.” It’s so high energy and exciting, you really can understand how Scrooge gets so caught up in it himself. You also see more of Fred in this song and, again, he’s a person! He has specific motivations for why he keeps reaching out to Scrooge. Corey’s Fred is hands down one of the best performances of this character full stop. He took what is usually a bit, side character and made him a full human with understandable thoughts and feelings. They gave the Fred-Scrooge relationship such incredible emotional weight because of it. I think that’s one of my favorite aspects of this adaptation.

6) Priceless - Here we see the Cratchits enjoying their Christmas with an incredibly sweet song about having little but feeling like they have a lot. I really like the way this song feels a bit cheesy (goes with the whole 80s vibe) but they also feel like a real family with some silliness and some sweetness and Bob’s wife having very strong opinions about Scrooge that he’s too polite for. Also “listen to this key change out of the bridge” goddamn just show off constantly how freaking talented this entire cast is, why don’t you.

7) The Final Ghost - I probably have too much to say about this song. It’s my favorite, which considering this entire show is pitch fucking perfect, is really saying a lot. Dylan Saunders is truly one of the most talented performers I’ve ever seen, and his Scrooge is so, so good. It really shines through here. His interactions with Christmas Future show him mirroring Bob from earlier (he has a line that’s almost an exact quote of a line from Bob in Bah Humbug!), correcting himself, and trying to be respectful/humble. Subtle displays of emotional growth even before he gets to the truly scary parts. The song is of course a darker tone, as is correct for this part of the narrative, perfectly setting up the finale song. We get Scrooge overhearing about a funeral no one cares about, the same man being robbed after death, and this death bringing actual happiness to people. Throughout it all so far Christmas Future only speaks in a wordless melody, as is apt. Scrooge asks for tenderness connected to death and is shown the Cratchits mourning Tiny Tim, which breaks him, and he asks who the dead man was from earlier. Still wordless, Christmas Future leads him to a cemetery, and that wordless melody perfectly transforms into an eerie, ethereal, “Ebenezer Scrooge.” The fucking amount of sheer EMOTION Dylan packs into Scrooge pleading for his soul, that he is changed, and the final bit of narration… fuck, you guys, it’s so good. I love all of the “scene” parts of this song so much. It all builds so perfectly.

7a) The narrator. - This isn’t a specific song, I just want to call out how excellent the narrator is through the whole show and how perfectly the narration ties the whole show together. It’s one of those things where it goes unnoticed because it’s so perfect, but if it were bad you would definitely notice. You need it to be there and understated or a lot a falls apart, but it can be such hard balance to strike. This show nails it.

8) Christmas Day - The finale! And what a finale it is! The energy is a perfect contrast to the song before it as Scrooge delights in being alive and having time to make things right. His joy is palpable as he goes about his day, buying Bob a huge turkey, making an incredible donation to the charity he blew off the day before, and showing up at Fred’s. Guys. This scene. Especially when I watch the live, but even sometimes just via the soundtrack, this scene just fucking perfectly, beautifully guts me. You know how in Avatar: The Last Airbender, Zuko has to go on his whole narrative arc to eventually join the right side, and along the way sort of betrays his Uncle Iroh, aka the only good father figure he’s ever had, because he’s a traumatized teenager, and eventually he meets back up with him and starts stumbling out an apology and Iroh just sweeps him up in a hug without a word, and you sob because it’s perfect? That is the energy present in this, what, 15-second scene, just this incredible emotional buildup and payoff accomplished in a scant 45-minute runtime. It’s truly wondrous. The finale, as all true finales should, calls back musically to previous character beats, and ends on the perfect bookend to the opening number. It’s just so, so immensely satisfying.

Tl;dr - this musical has made me feel more Christmas-y than I have in a long, long time, and I have listened to little else in terms of music since I watched it two weeks ago. (It was literally the only music I had listened to since then until right now, and that’s only because I’m in a van on a road trip to my sister-in-law’s for Christmas. While I would have been perfectly content to listen to this soundtrack on repeat for the entire 8-hour drive, I also recognize that the four other people in this van do not have my particular flavor of hyperfixated ADHD brain and probably would not appreciate that, heh. Thus I played it once and then other music. Compromise!)

But yes. Seriously. It’s so good. Gah. Go watch it!

#a vhs christmas carol #starkid #i have so many feelings #I JUST LOVE IT SO MUCH #what no this album isn’t the only music i’ve listened to in like 10 days or anything #i uh have only listened to it a completely normal amount of times #*eyes shift nervously*#team starkid #avhscc #vhscc #vhs christmas carol #musicals

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honkytonk-hangman · 1 year

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Afterburn – Equilibrium

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x OC/Reader

Masterlist

Summary: “Bob and I are worried about you,” Phoenix says. "I'm fine," Jake snorts dismissively, as if he were amused by her concern. “S’that why you’re avoiding Teddy?” She takes the more direct approach this time, and watches again as Hangman freezes. This time when he looks back at her, his face is stony, and he’s glaring darkly, genuinely. “Mind your own business, Phoenix.” He spits, the venomousness nearly making her flinch.

Warnings: language, references to sex, hangman having anxiety, mentions and discussions of an aviation crash and the trauma around it.

Notes: this has taken so long but its here! thank you so much to anybody still reading and to @ussgallifrey AND @rolycolysficrecs for the emotional support heheh lov u both <3

Masterlist

Phoenix almost pity’s how hard Hangman jumps when she slams his locker door closed, bringing them face to face in the deserted men’s shower room.

“Trace!” Hangman hisses, surprised. “What the hell?” His voice is tight and defensive, a pinched glare pulled across his features.

Phoenix knows she hasn’t always had the best relationship with Hangman, but even now that they were certifiably friends, it wasn’t really like her other friendship’s. They’d fight and bicker and most of their interactions were based upon sarcasm and snark, and yet, she could never deny that she liked the man.

She could also never deny that he was pretty. Not only did he take care of his appearance, even more so than the average Navy man, Jake was blessed with those natural ‘good-genes’ people always referred to when they’re talking about some otherworldly supermodel or the like. Phoenix has never, not even once, seen the man looking anything less than Ken Doll perfection.

At least, that had been the case right up until two weeks ago.

At first Phoenix had questioned her own memory. It had been eighteen months since the Uranium Facility mission, since Dagger was unofficially disbanded. They had stuck together for a while, but inevitably, they’d all had to return to their Squadrons, with a few exceptions, such as Bob transferring to the Black Aces to continue flying as her backseater. Now, with discussions of solidifying Dagger as a true and proper Squadron taking place, Phoenix and Bob had rolled back into town two weeks ago, at the request of Admiral Simpson. She’d been somewhat excited to learn Hangman was around too, only dampened when she’d found out why.

Medical leave, he’d grunted shortly.

Had needed to punch out, he’d admitted eventually, sustained minor injuries in the landing.

Now they were just keeping him for observation. It just so happened to coincide with the upcoming talks about Dagger Squad.

Despite this, Phoenix didn’t feel as though either his accident or his medical leave explained well enough why, for the past two weeks, Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin, Ken Doll Perfection Incarnate, looked the worst she’d ever seen him.

Even though she knows that the universally unflattering locker room down-lighting isn’t doing him any favours, Phoenix would bet money that out in the light of day he didn’t look any better. His normally gold-tan skin had turned sallow and flat, and instead of straight back and proudly squared, his shoulders seemed to be perpetually hunched. Even his eyes were duller, bloodshot and lacking in their usual brightness.

However, the final straw had come today when Bob returned from his lunch with Teddy, wide-eyed and almost childlike in how he’s searched for Phoenix, not only to confide in her, but in the knowledge, she would know what to do. While they’d both assumed Hangman was keeping it lowkey due to his medical leave, that was apparently not at all the case.

Seemingly, Hangman had been present on North Island for two weeks and was yet to inform Teddy.

“What are you doing here? How did you even get in?!” Hangman scolds, quickly trying to hide his fright with anger, and he roughly forces his locker door back open again. Phoenix uses his forcefulness so that it’s pushed completely flat, making it impossible to ignore her now.

“Bob and I are worried about you,” she tells him, surprised by the honestly of the words that leave her mouth, but chooses to stand by them, straightening her shoulders and watching measuredly the way his movements stutter and pause almost imperceptibly, before he shifts his gaze toward her with a roll of his eyes.

“I’m fine.” he says dismissively, as if he were humoured by her concern, but she notes that his voice is quieter now, softer. Phoenix isn’t willing to let him off yet, oh no, she’d only just begun, so she crosses her arms over her chest and lifts her chin challengingly.

“S’that why you’re avoiding Teddy?” She takes the more direct approach this time, and watches again as Hangman freezes. This time when he looks back at her, his face is stony, and he’s glaring darkly, genuinely.

“Mind your own business, Phoenix.” He spits, the venomousness nearly making her flinch, but she stands her ground, uncrosses her arms, then puts them on her hips.

“You look like shit, Jake.” she tells him, making his glare deepen, but she continues. “It’s clear you’re not sleeping well, if at all… If you haven’t been doing great since you punched out, she would understand more than anyone else,” Phoenix gets a little more frantic as she goes on, letting out the barrage quickly, not giving him the chance to cut her off.

“Why are you avoiding Teddy, Bagman?”

Jake huffs in annoyance and tries to close his locker door, but only enough to petulantly block her from his line of sight, but she catches it and for several moments they struggle like children. In the end, Phoenix’s fingers slip just as Hangman seems to have had enough of her questioning, and he slams the door shut even harder than Phoenix had when she’d first startled him.

“Because I’m not having nightmares about my accident!” he exclaims angrily, almost yelling.

For a few seconds the pair can only glare at one another in the now silent locker room.

Eventually, Jake rubs a hand over his face, and all but collapses onto the bench. Phoenix steps forward, and hesitates before she crouches down in front of him, and waits.

“I was there, Nat. I was there.”

Phoenix blinks, and frowns, leaning in to place a hand on Hangman’s arm.

“Where, Jake? What are you talking about?” She hates being so clueless, but it doesn’t last long. Jake lifts his head heavily to look her in the eye.

He looks wrecked.

“I was there the day Teddy crashed. The Vigilantes came in as backup, her Squadron was overrun.” He swallows thickly. “I heard everything on the radio. I watched her go down,” he pauses again, grinding his teeth together as if deciding whether to continue. When he meets her eyes again, she can see that he’s anxious, uncertain, and it’s such a foreign look on him, for several seconds Phoenix forgets she’s talking to Hangman.

“I nailed the bandit that hit her,” he confesses at last, as if she was his priest, his voice hurried but resigned, like he was expecting her to punish him.

Phoenix blinks. She can’t help the shock that flickers over her face in the moments after she processes what he’s told her. She had long been aware of Hangman’s first confirmed aviator kill, if she’s honest she’d always been a little jealous of that particular notch in his belt, but his new context makes her envy feel childish and petty.

It occurs to Phoenix suddenly, that she can’t bring to mind a time that he’d ever spoken about his medal, or the circumstances surrounding it at all without it being brought up to him first. Even when she’d introduced him to Payback and Fanboy all those months ago at the Hard Deck, he’d deflected immediately, not even biting when they poked fun at him, his only direct response being to tell her to ‘stop’.

“Does– does Teddy know?” Phoenix tries not to let her shock clear; it was obvious to her that this was not something that he’d ever revealed to anybody else, nor did it seem like he had planned to. Jake’s lips pull down in the corners, and he looks to the floor between his feet.

“No.” His voice sounds thick, but then he’s blinking back at her, frowning slightly as he speaks. “She doesn’t talk about it with me, I’m not sure she talks about it with anyone…” Hangman once more speaks slow and carefully, like he’s not sure he should be telling her. He lets the words hang between them for a moment before he shifts his focus back to stare at her face, pursing his lips. “I’m pretty sure she’s never even read any of the final reports about the engagement.”

“Why…” Phoenix starts but trails off when she can’t decide which of the many questions racing through her mind to ask first. Hangman watches her as she gathers herself, his face slightly guarded now, like he was waiting for her to turn against him. Phoenix will be the first to admit even now their friendship could be difficult, like that of siblings more than friends, but she finds herself more than a little disquieted that he clearly expected her to think less of him, either for keeping the truth from Teddy, or for the way it had clearly affected him.

Phoenix adjusts her footing, before curling her hands gently, but firmly, around his own. She’s not even sure that he’s aware that he’s been wringing them for the past five minutes, as he spoke but her unexpected touch brings a stop to it. Phoenix is pleased that the action appears to ground him somewhat, and she waits to have his attention again before speaking. His eyes cut briefly down to her hands over his, then back to her face almost expectantly, though his expression isn’t entirely decipherable.

“Why now?” Phoenix asks carefully, doing her best to keep any accusation from her voice. Hangman frowns, looking away from her as though he couldn’t think and watch her at the same time. Phoenix clears her throat and amends herself quickly.

“Why is this weighing you down now? What’s changed?”

The beat of silence that passes is damn-near tangible, the air around them turning thick, and even just breathing felt like trying to wade through water while still fully clothed.

“Because I’m going to be fine,” Hangman states bluntly, staring Phoenix down now. “I’m going to walk outta here in a week’s time, fly back to my stationing on the carrier, and Teddy never will.”

It wasn’t as though Phoenix isn’t aware of that fact. Sometimes she felt all too aware of it, the knowledge weighing on her like it had clearly been weighing on Hangman. She supposes the only difference was that Hangman wasn’t used to feeling that weight, that guilt. From day one he never had any problem treating Teddy as though she wasn’t chronically sick, as though her life and career hadn’t been sent veering off course, despite the positives that had been born from the circumstances.

In the space left behind by his seeming lack of sensitivity, Phoenix realises a far fonder friendship than she’d first realised had been able to grow. She knew they were close, even though his behaviour often made it seem as though he couldn’t care less, Hangman was not a man who did anything by halves.

He either cared about you, or he didn’t.

Phoenix quickly makes the decision to tuck this information away, to interrogate them both later, after she’s debriefed with Bob of course. For now, she simply lets her understanding play out clear across her face, dissolving his matter-of-fact detachment by simply not playing into his hand. He was likely expecting her to finally turn stern with him, in a friendly manner, but with the knowledge she was now beginning to unpick in her mind, Phoenix can’t bring herself to do it.

No, she and Hangman may not have been the best of pals, but they were friends, and Natasha Trace was loyal to her friends, so, with him clutching her hands like she was the only thing currently tethering him to sanity, Phoenix gives him the only advice she knows will help him.

“Jake! Oh my god!” you exclaim happily, shooting up from your desk at the sight of the blond in your office doorway. You move quickly around to meet him in the middle, but stop suddenly when you realise you aren’t exactly sure how you should greet him. Was a kiss too much? A hug? You hadn’t really had the opportunity to talk much since his deployment, and even less recently.

Actually, it had started weighing on you. Where he once seemed to make every effort to reply to your messages or emails, in the past month or so, his responses had seemed short, or they hadn’t come at all. You told yourself not to think too hard about it, afterall, you knew exactly how busy and how tiring his job could be, you’d done it once yourself, but no matter how many times you accrued yourself everything was fine, you hadn’t been able to shake the strange feeling of coldness between you.

His appearance in your office doesn’t do anything to change that. For one, he doesn’t move to enter, he simply lingers by the door, his smile tight, and his eyes tired.

“How you doing, Teddy?” he asks, though it seems flat, exhausted, and it’s this response that makes you falter in your step. He notices, of course he does, he always seems to notice everything about you, and drops his gaze, but that doesn’t stop you from being able to take him in with a renewed intensity.

You realise you’ve never seen him look this wrecked before. Not even that night when he showed up at your door and asked you to let him in, not even the morning after, with his hair all messed up and his eyes blinking tiredly at you from your pillow.

Immediately your face drops along with your stomach, but you force yourself to breathe evenly, and take half a step forward.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, fearing the answer, but needing him to say it anyway, if it had caused him this much distress. At the end of the day, you cared about Jake plain and simple. It would hurt if he decided to go back to being friends, but you would be able to deal with it just fine. To ring the old cliche, you would rather have him as a friend than to not have him at all.

Jake blinks at you, and seems to snap out of his dazed reverie. You’re not sure if he’d heard your previous question, or if he just didn't know how to answer yet, so you try again.

“I didn’t know you were scheduled to come back to North Island,” you start. You watch him swallow, and nod, but he meets your eyes again at least.

“I wasn’t,” he tells you, shifting his stance slightly.

You stare at one another, and it's almost as though he’s testing you, waiting to see how much you’ll push him, if you’ll call him out.

“Well, how long are you back for?” you ignore his sharp gaze, and press on, trying as best you can to at least hold a normal conversation with him before things go pear shaped eventually. Seemingly frustrated by your avoidance, Jake’s jaw ticks, and he briefly looks away from you. Normally you wouldn’t mind pushing him, clearly he was asking for it, but perhaps he didn’t understand how much this conversation would affect you, why you had to avoid it.

“I’ve been back for two weeks,” he speaks at last, waiting until he’s spoken to look back at you. The words hit you harder than whatever you’d expected him to say next, and you’re utterly blindsided by the punch of hurt that winds you.

“Oh.” you breathe quietly, unable to stop the slight crumple of your features at the thought.

Jake, who hadn’t left you alone since he’d met you, Jake who seemed to thrive on your annoyed energy, Jake who had turned up at your house after finding out his next deployment and had begged to be let in, that same Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin had been on North Island for two weeks and hadn’t told you.

Unable to school your face any longer, you turn away from him entirely, willing every fibre of your being to hold it together. Behind you, you hear him sigh frustratedly, though, it doesn’t seem directed at you this time. You hear the familiar sounds of your office door being gently closed, the lock turning, shutting you in.

“I’m sorry, Teddy, I’m sorry, please look at me…” Jake’s voice isn’t hard now, it’s soft and pleading in the same way he’d been on your doorstep all those months ago. You can’t bring yourself to turn, but before you can do much else, you feel his presence behind you, and his hand gently on your shoulder, and it's ridiculous how even despite what he’s just told you, how much comfort this one action lends you anyway.

“Teo? Please, I’m sorry.”

You snap to look at him at the use of the private nickname, something nobody called you anymore, nobody even knew to call you, except him. It stokes the fire of anger inside you at his audacity, and you’re ready to tear into him, but you’re caught, stopped by the expression on his face, and how up close, he looks even worse than he had from several feet away.

“I– I should have told you but I–” he cuts himself off, and drops his hand from your shoulder, but he doesn’t break your eye contact. You can see his mind working, see him trying to figure something out, and you almost want to spit that he’d had two weeks already to figure it out, but you don’t.

At last, he opens his mouth again, but once more, his words are not what you expect.

“I was there the day you punched out.”

At first his words don’t even seem real to you, like a wild hallucination. Subtly, you even check your own pulse, just to make sure you hadn’t actually passed out already and were imagining things. It sinks in then, with the grave expression on his face, and just how messed up he really looked, that there was no way he wasn’t serious, not to mention this is not something you would ever conjure of your own volition.

“What?” your voice sounds angrier than you mean it too, but you’re too far gone to control yourself.

“My squadron was the one who flew in to provide backup for Samurai, I was there– I– I–” Jake stops and gathers himself. When he sinks into one of the chairs opposite your desk, you don’t follow, unable to move even a muscle as you listen to him. Unlike you, he seems more put together now, recounting these details, he folds his hands together in his lap and looks up at you, expression now unreadable.

“I heard you on the radio, I saw you losing altitude, and I– I never used to think about it much, even after we became friends–”

“–Your first confirmed pilot kill, that was one of the bandits who winged me, wasn’t it?” you cut him off, your mind working overtime, both recollecting that day from your own memory, and imagining what it must have been like in his. Jake nods slowly, eyes never leaving you.

You let out a strangled laugh, but it's entirely mirthless.

“I had to punch out two weeks ago,” Jake tells you then, and it almost overshadows your rising panic at the situation at hand.

“What? Why? Are you alright?!” you don’t catch yourself in time to stop the words from leaving your mouth. Jake smiles, and you think it's a little odd that it seems genuine. You follow his movements closely as he reaches out and takes one of the hands hanging limply at your side, your stomach and heart competing for synchronised diving when his thumb brushes up against the underside of your wrist, your pulse thrumming quickly against the pad of his finger.

A beat later, and all it takes is a single tug for you to fall into the seat opposite him, your hand still held tightly in his own.

“I’m fine. A few bumps, but I’m alright.

The way he says it, everything suddenly clicks for you then, and realise what this whole song and dance has been about. With a deep breath, you let yourself push aside the million questions you have regarding this new information, putting away the embarrassment you felt for now. With your free hand, you shakily point to your desk and clear your throat.

“Can you please get me my medication?” you ask. Jake is on his feet immediately, rounding your desk and pulling open your second draw. You want to question him about how he knows where you keep your box of many meds, but figure you can ask later.

“Just the inhaler, please,” you instruct when he looks back up at you for directions, and soon enough he’s seated beside you again, reluctantly releasing your hand so you can take your medicine properly.

Right away your airways relx, and you let out a steady breath, before finally turning to look back at Jake.

“You know, most people have anxiety about their own crashes, right?” you’re pleased that your voice sounds more casual, the humour dry and almost reflexively you see Jake’s shoulders slump. You reach out and take his hands again, squeezing them.

“Jake, you don’t need to feel bad for walking away scot-free. I can’t tell you how glad I am that you did.”

Jake’s fingers tighten around yours and he leans forward slightly, as if physically weighed down by his guilt.

“I can’t stop thinking about it,” he admits quietly, but confidently in a way that tells you he’s being as honest as possible.

“Do you feel better now you’ve told me?” you ask him, rubbing your thumb back and forth soothingly over his hand, making him squeeze your fingers again.

“Yes. I’m sorry–”

“–Thank you.” you cut him off, and he blinks at you, before shutting his mouth, as if your forgiveness is the one option he hadn’t even considered.

“Is this really why you’ve been avoiding me for two weeks?” you ask then, and he snaps out of his thoughts and leans back in his seat, rubbing at his neck awkwardly.

“Nat cornered me, kicked my ass until I told her I’d come talk to you… Like a damn piledriver, that woman…” he says, sounding too fond for his grumbling to mean anything. You chortle, and don’t even think about bringing the back of his hand to your lips.

“I just feel bad you’ve been slumming it on base for two weeks while on medical leave,” you tease. “You must have been feeling pretty bad if you preferred to sleep on the shitty cots on base than at mine,” you shake your head, and Jake pulls a face somewhere between a smile and a pout.

“I know, it’s been torture of the worst degree. The real reason I haven’t been sleeping.” he ruefully admints, though you know it’s pure bull.

Shaking your head, you stand, and tug your hand from his as you round your desk once more. You replace your medication in your draw, and dig your keys out of your purse, tossing them quickly across the gap. Jake catches them, of course, sleep or no sleep, his reflexes were still some of the best in the world, and without a word, he too stands.

"Go home and get some sleep, honey, we'll talk more later." you tell him softly. You expect him to nod, maybe wink, and say his goodbyes, but instead, he steps around your desk and leans down, balancing on the edge of it with one hand. The other hand he lifts to catch you by the chin, and you aren’t sure why, but it takes you completely by surprise when he crushes his lips to yours passionately.

He swallows your little gasp with a smile against your mouth, and what you’d expected to be heavy turns softer and sweet, and all too soon he’s pulling away, and placing a kiss to your forehead. Then, he leans back to look down at you, shit eating grin on his face, and you realise you’d been too distracted by his tongue on yours to notice he’d opened your second drawer again.

With your own quick reflexes, you’re able to catch the object he tosses at you as he finally steps away, and you look down at it, feeling an all-too-familiar annoyance begin to bubble inside you.

Jake nods at your inhaler, still smirking, and opens your office door.

“Go ahead and keep that on you, sweetheart, you’re gonna need it,”

#jake 'hangman' seresin fanfic #jake 'hangman' seresin x reader #jake seresin x reader #jake 'hangman' seresin #jake seresin #jake hangman imagine #jake hangman seresin

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lovingbradshawafterdark · 1 year

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Feel me up: part 2

Bradley bradshaw x afab!Stripper reader.

Summary: Bradley hasn’t seen you in weeks and starts to worry, things only get worse when you call him.

Word count: 3.6k+

Warnings: drug usage, prostitution, abuse and violence, mentions of blood and guns. Vague mention of a suicide. Smut, handjob and unprotected p in v sex with mentions of tied tubes, minors absolutely do not interact 18+ only please read the warning. Dead dove do not eat

Taglist: @lovelybucky1 @discoseal @marchingicenotes7 @cyrene-world @rafemcameron1 @itmejado @harper1666 @hangmandruigandmav @uwiuwi @iluvweasleys @trippingforyou

Previous part | Series Masterlist

Also can be read on Ao3

Your whole body felt light as you stared up at the ceiling, that familiar fuzzy and warm feeling engulfing you as you took another hit from the blunt. The man next to you could barely move on the uncomfortable bed, which you were happy about. You felt good, but your bones ached, and you were so sore. Sore from the many hours that Jason had scheduled you after the incident that happened three weeks ago. You smiled, thinking about his silly mustache, his little whimpers that left his mouth.

“Bradley,” you said breathlessly, your cheeks warm as your hands went further down your body. The man next to you did nothing, and he didn't even touch you or move. You softly hummed as you heard your phone vibrate as you heard doorsteps outside the door.

***

Bradley hadn't seen you in weeks, not since you both got breakfast not long after he got kicked out. You told him it's probably not the best idea for him to show his face. You both texted and called when you had the time. He finally got your name and stage name.

Stardust

It had a nice ring to it. He smiled, taking another sip of his beer at the hard deck. You told him you were forced to work overtime. Bradley felt awful for that, but you assure him sometimes it's part of the business. He frowned slightly and looked at his phone, you hadn't texted him in over a week, and he was getting nervous.

“You doin' alright?”

He waited for a reply, and when it was over twenty minutes, he decided to play pool with others.

“She ghosting you, Roo?” Natasha asked, rubbing chalk at the end of her pool stick. He shook his head, Brakdey didn't know, but he felt it was something else.

“Think works just getting rough” He shrugged, not letting his nerves show. He never really told them what you did for a living or the scummy practices the club you worked at seemed to have.

“Yeah, the club used to have a secret prostitution ring. My boss stopped it when the word got around. Made one of the girls take the blame.”

Bradley cringed at you while you told him every detail. What some of those men did to you made his blood boil. You only said you weren't a part of that stuff anymore since you were one of the senior dancers. You were, however, one of the famous dancers, and many of said gross men wanted a night with you. They had to pay a pretty penny, though; many rich men were addicted to drugs and prone to violence. He can remember you trying to hide your cheek once when you had to take a few off after passing out during a shift. You were having breakfast, yet he could see the tired look in your eyes and sluggish movements. Bradley saw the bruise on your cheek and immediately clenched his fists and asked you who did it. You gently held his hand and told him you were giving a lap dance, and a guy got a bit impatient, was all. You sounded so calm saying that.

“Does that happen a lot?” Bradley had asked you softly. You only looked at the floor.

“How about we finish breakfast,” you said softly, and that was the end of the conversation.

“Hey, Rooster, your phone is ringing!” Bob yelled, making Braldye tear away from his thoughts. He grabbed his phone from the corner of the pool table. Bradley’s heart sank when he saw that you were calling him. However, Bradley tried to remain optimistic.

“Hey, everything okay?” He asked quietly. Pheonix, Bob, and payback were staring at him now. Bradley only heard the sounds of sniffling and sirens.

“Can you come and pick me up?” You asked so gently as Bradley heard the sounds of an angry man behind you. Bradley's heart squeezed, and he saw the trio look at him, grimacing at Bradley's expression switched from worry to anger.

“Yeah, where are you?” Bradley asked, gripping the fabric of his jeans tightly.

“The police station...”

***

You were shaking as Jason yelled at some of the officers. You could see the blood coating your white dress. Every part of you was sober now, but you half hoped you weren't. Cheryl patted your shoulder and rubbed your back. Finally, they were done questioning you.

“It'll be okay. Just try and Breathe,” Cheryl said, trying to soothe you. Your hands still shook as you attempted to unclench your jaw. Cheryl handed you a bag, “how about you go get changed” You nodded and took the bag so robotically. You walked into the police station's bathroom and quickly changed. You could see some blood still slightly smeared on your face. Cheryl had let you borrow one of her red dresses. You didn't like the color red anymore, not after what happened. You heard screaming before the door unlocked, followed by a gunshot. You shot up and saw a bullet hole through the man's skull which had been sleeping next to you. You covered your mouth, wanting to vomit, immediately sobering up. You looked to the door only to find one of the younger girls, Candy, holding a gun. Her dress was a pastel pink with splotches of blood on them. You shakily raised your hands in the air.

“I can't do this anymore,” Candy cried, her finger resting shakily on the trigger. Her blonde hair was messy now, her makeup ruined by her crying. You got up slowly and walked towards her.

“It's okay...I won't tell anyone, just put the gun down, please” Your voice shook as you tried to grab her hand gently. She moved away from you.

“We know how this ends, stardust. This won't change anything,” she raised the gun, “Jason will just pay off the police and keep things on the down low again” You tried to play your cards carefully and descale the situation.

“I'm tired, so tired,” she lowered the gun again, tears streaming more harshly down her face, “I'm tired of getting hit; I'm tired of being used” you understood her plight. You were tired, too, tired of all of this. You wanted to be free, yet Jason always knew how to keep you under his thumb.

“I understand, but doing this won't help...” You looked pleadingly into her eyes; her hands shook again.

“Then what am I supposed to do?” she cried, looking down at your dress, blood splatter on it, “and now I've gotten you involved...can you do me a favor, stardust?” You all just used your stage names, which was like a second name to you.

“What is it, candy?” You gently squeezed her hand as she looked you in the eye again.

“Get out of this place...if one of us can find a way out, then maybe we have some hope” You nodded, and she smiled; your following words became a blur as the gun went off again.

You jumped, hearing a knock on the door; you washed your face before opening it. Cheryl gave a sad smile.

“Your guy is here,” she said, pointing behind her. You stepped out slowly as Bradley looked at you. Cheryl pushed you ahead of her, “take care of her, please, at least while Jason is here” Bradley nodded as he took you by the hand.

“I will, don't worry,” He whispered, his thumb rubbing small circles along the back of your hand. You felt more at ease as his big hand gently held yours as he guided you to the door.

“Where the hell is she going!” Jason yelled as many officers were detaining him, “she only leaves when I leave! All my girls only leave when I leave” Bradley glared at him as you just hid in his chest. Cheryl bit her lip before taking a deep breath and looking away from him.

“Don’t listen to him; get out of here,” she whispered. You could barely speak, only nod at her.

“You can leave too,” you reminded her. She smiled again before playing with your hair for a second.

“You’ve got someone who can take care of you; many of us don’t have that,” she delicately placed a cute cherry hair clip in your hair, “I’ll be okay, we’ll all be okay, don’t worry too much about us” you wanted to cry, but you knew Jason would use that against you. You were finally outside, the cool California air hitting your skin. For once in your life, you finally felt genuinely free of only for a moment, the sun had gone down. Bradley put a hand on your shoulder, a sad look on his face.

“They didn’t tell me much, but you-“ you hugged him tightly before he could finish his sentence. Your face nuzzled deep into his chest.

“So much…blood on the wall” was all you could say, your knees weak thinking about it. Bradley rubbed your back gently. He looked at your white dress that was soaked in blood, and he winced.

“Was it your blood?” he asked gently. You responded by shaking your head. You gripped his Hawaiian shirt tighter.

“One of the other girls,” your voice shook remembering it, “she snapped, killed about three of the guys there and then-“ Bradley couldn’t stomach this right now, and he didn’t want you dwelling on it too much.

“How about I take you back to my place, yet you cleaned up properly” he gave you a nervous smile. Your legs were refusing to move, shock still flooding your system.

“Can't move,” you mumbled. Bradley understood and scooped you into his arms, walking towards his old bronco. He managed to open the passenger door, placing you into the seat. He closed the door as your head rested gently against the window. A song was playing from an old CD track.

All the leaves are brown (all the leaves are brown)

And the sky is gray (and the sky is gray)

I've been for a walk (I've been for a walk)

On a winter's day (on a winter's day)

If I didn't tell her (if I didn't tell her)

I could leave today (I could leave today)

You smiled. It was the beach boys' version. Back home, your dad would always put it on in that old barn when he would wash the horse. You hadn't seen a horse in many years, which made you laugh. Bradley touched your thigh. Thinking shock was what made you laugh. You only hummed along to the song as he drove to the tiny little bungalow he owned. He parked and got out. Your eyes focused on the night sky. The twinkling stars distract you as Bradley puts you back into his arms. You liked being in his arms. They were big warm and strong, easy to melt into. He opened the door and placed you gently on his couch.

“You wanna have a proper shower?” He asked, squeezing your thigh so gently. You thought about it for a moment. You honestly just wanted to rest.

“Maybe tomorrow. I’m drained” you yawned and stretched. You saw as Bradley’s lip turned upwards, happy to see that tiny little spark return to your eyes.

“Alright, I don’t have a guest bedroom, but I can sleep on the “ he saw the look on your face. It was filled with worry, “something wrong?”

“I don’t think I wanna sleep alone tonight,” you sighed. Bradley only squeezed your thigh again.

“I understand” he smiled as he took off your heels before scooping you off the couch, leading you towards his bedroom. He laid you down on his bed as if you were fragile piece of glass, “you want to sleep in that? I can give you one of my shirts if you want”

“If it’s not too much to ask” you smiled nervously as he handed you one of his old T-shirts. You started to take off Cheryl’s dress, Bradley was startled for a moment as you changed nonchalantly in front of him. He covered his eyes like a little kid making you, “What? It’s alright I’m used to people staring or jerking off while I undress, or even feel me up” you laughed yet quickly realized Bradley wasn’t like the other girls at the club, he wasn’t used to your jokes about it, they mostly happened as a way to cope.

“Did you want me to look?” He asked softly. A sudden pang hit you, barely anyone asked what you liked or wanted anymore. You only shrugged, unsure of what you wanted exactly, he was being sweet and making sure you were comfortable. He still averted his gaze as you slipped the cherry red dress off and put the T-shirt he gave you on. It was big on you making you giggle and looking back at Bradley.

“You can look now” you said tapping Bradley’s shoulder. His eyes slowly opened, they were a pretty shade of brown. His face flushed slightly looking at you in his shirt, “I’m gonna guess you Navy boys probably don’t have Pot just laying around?”

“No I don’t, haven’t had any since I was in college anyways” He sat next you on the bed, his hands nervous, “would definitely get discharged if I did” You shrugged again laying down, humming against how soft his sheets were.

“It’s fine, just been taking a big hit to help sleep at night, just to help ease the nerves” Bradley frowned at that, he didn’t want you to feel unsafe while you were in his bungalow and in general. He slowly turned over to face you, his hands were still at his sides.

“You can touch me” you chuckled yet he still didn’t budge, he wanted to touch you, not because you were used to it but because you actually wanted it. You gave him a puzzled look before gently stroking his cheek, finally noticing the scars that ran across it. His heart began to race, he could hear it through his own ears, “is it alright if I touch you?”

“Yeah” his voice was raspy as you ran your thumb along his cheek, he noticed the small bruises along your arms, things were to hectic before for him to notice, “did they do that to you?” His voice was soft and sweet, you hummed and closed your eyes.

“Yeah…they did” Bradley clenched his fists, his blood was boiling. You never gave specifics to what happened during those sessions.

“I’m not letting you go back” You froze, you truly didn’t want to go back there but it’s not like you had much of a place to go. You didn’t respond, only stroking his cheek.

“How’d you get these scars?” You whispered, your thumb running along the longest scar.

“Flying accident, happened when I was still training” he hummed at the feeling of your soft fingers gently caressing his skin. While he did really like this, he preferred if you got some rest, “you should get some rest” he said bringing your hand back away from his face. You frowned but nodded. You flipped over to the other side, slowly curling up.

Night pornstar” you said in a hushed tone. Bradley grinned, reaching over to turn the lamp at the side of his bed off. He kissed your shoulder gently, a small grin slowly coming from your lips.

“Goodnight” he said before slowly closing his eyes, sleep slowly enveloping him.

***

Bradley didn’t get much sleep. Heard you tossing and turning, even whimpering in your sleep, he pulled you close and told you he was right here. That eased you back to sleep as you felt one of his arms drape across your waist. What you weren’t expecting was feeling something hard pressing against the curve of your ass. You tried your best not to laugh and wake Bradley up. You rolled over, Bradley’s eyes still shut, snoring slightly. He was warm, it felt good. You waited awhile for Bradley to wake up. the sun hit his face making his face scrunch before slowly opening his eyes.

“Morning” you whispered, nuzzling into his chest. He smiled before letting out a hiss, his own hardness finally hitting him.

“Shit, didn’t mean for that to happen” his voice was low and raspy from waking up. You only giggled as he seemed to try and move his hips away from you.

“It’s alright, it happens sometimes” you tried to make him feel less embarrassed yet he still groaned. He rolled over onto his back. You say up and looked at him, his curly hair messy slightly. He rubbed his eyes, checking under the sheets to see how bad it was. Bradley groaned and sank into the bed again, you lips quirked upward.

“Looks like you’ve got a case of morning wood” you teased with a laugh.

“Don’t remind me” he said with a yawn, rubbing his eyes again.

“Well that must be painful you poor thing” you said with a fake pout. You quickly straddled him, making a chuckle bubble from his throat. His voice was still low and deep from waking up, “You want me to cure your morning wood, Pornstar?” You teasingly rolled your hips, making him groan. You placed your hands over his pecs, gently caressing the scarred side of his face. His hands went to your hips. Now that his jeans weren't confining him, you could see how big he was. You licked your lips as he had the biggest grin on his face.

“Like what you see?” he raised an eyebrow at you as you giggled. You slowly reached towards his boxers.

“I do, but I think I need a closer look” you took his cock out from his boxers, the tip already red and leaking, “even got a dick of a pornstar,” you cooed before spitting in your hand and slowly pumping him. The soft groans escaping his mouth were music to your ears.

“Fuuuuuck” Bradley had his eyes closed shut, his fingers digging into your waist. Why you were doing this, you couldn’t say. Was it because you were needy? Or as a distraction to help ease what happened last night? You could care less, only longing to have him inside you. He could see you licking your lips just thinking about it.

“You want me to ride you, baby?” You leaned down and whispered in his ear. He only whimpered, making you clench around nothing.

“S’Please, Star,” He begged at you pleadingly. You hummed at him, already giving you a nickname. You couldn’t wait any longer, slowly pulling your panties to the side. Bradley gave you a worried look, but you assured him.

“Tubes are tied, honey, was a requirement” you never really liked to mention that Jason had found you young, dumb, and vulnerable. You weren't vulnerable with Bradley, though. You could tell. Bradley just looked at you through a lust-filled haze, his hands shaking as you slowly sank on him, “you're so big,” you whined, getting used to the stretch. He let out another whimper before moving his hips impatiently. Making your mouth fall open as he set the pace, Bradley had many curses fall from his lips as he felt you clench around him.

“Didn't make you cum last time, wanna make you cum” Bradley babbled as he thrust harshly inside you. You threw your head while you tried to meet this thrusts, you hadn’t had someone this big inside you in a very long time, most men Jason had you sleep with were average at best if you were lucky. You tried desperately to not think about the club, Jason, or poor Candy. Bradley was fooling a damn good job at that. Bradley’s Left hand slowly made its way from hips to your aching clit, he began to rub small circles with his thumb making you mewl. The way Bradley was touching and fucking you had you already close to the edge, he was focusing much more on you than himself which you weren’t used to.

“Gonna c-cum” you whined out as you fell forward onto Bradley’s chest. He was still thrusting into you. The two of you were panting, breath hot as you looked at his lips. You pressed your lips to his, kissing him roughly, his hand leaving your clit to your back, holding you in place. You moaned into his mouth, his thrusts becoming more quick and sloppy. Your vision went white as you came, your walls clenched around him so he didn’t last much longer and spilled inside of you. Your whole body collapsed against him, you breathed heavily and so did he. His fingers rubbed small fingers against your back.

“You good?” Bradley asked, kissing your cheek as his mustache tickled slightly.

“Yeah, I’m good” you sighed happily, Bradley was still inside you, his cheeks red. You happily laid against him, content as a post orgasm fog washed over you.

“Looks like you cured me of my morning wood” he chuckled again, his fingers delicately playing with your hair.

“Guess I did, it’s gonna cost you” you joked, your fingers running along his face again. You opened your eyes and looked at him as you pulled out of him, already missing the feel of him.

“What’s it gonna cost me?” He laughed as you brushed some his hair back. He liked having your body against him, it had been awhile since something like this happened.

“Don’t know yet, for right now I want cuddles” you closed your eyes and fully laid against his chest, his heartbeat making you him again. Bradley would gladly cuddle you all day, but he had to go to the base soon and he didn’t feel comfortable leaving you here all by yourself. He kissed your forehead.

“Don’t think I feel comfortable leaving you here while I’m at work” you frowned, you didn’t want him to leave you, “but I think I got a place, you ever work as a bartender before?”

#top gun #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw #top gun smut #bradley bradshaw smut #bradley bradsaw x reader #rooster x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #Bradley bradshaw x you #Bradley bradhsaw x female!reader #feel me up

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stcverogers · 1 year

Text

TOP GUN FIC RECS 3!

top gun fics that i’ve been reading and obsessing with over recently

this is extremely important and i take this very seriously out of respect for the community. please do remember to read the rules for the respective blogs before interacting with or reading them.

F: fluff A: angst S: smut

𖥻 - series /multi part

masterlist

BRADLEY 'ROOSTER' BRADSHAW

F + A: who did this to you? by @feralforfrank rooster was so sure he hated you, but that was till he saw you hurt and all he could see was red.

F: international + part 2 by @bradshawsbitch life as an international student had been a blast, meeting bradley bradshaw could help you attest to that

S: here i go again by @hotgirlmav you return to san diego a while after your disastrous breakup with rooster.

F + A: home by @honeysimagines rooster reveals one night to the team, a girl who isn't really his girl.

F + A: his little girl by @roosterscockpit 𖥻 rooster finds out about a daughter he didn't know he had and is determined to be the father she deserves.

F + A: crumble by @daddy-bradley with a new baby in the house, tensions are high. you and bradley try your best to make things work.

JAKE 'HANGMAN' SERESIN

A: the beginning of the end by @marvelandotherfandomimagines jake made his bed and it was time for him to sleep in it.

F + A: imagine me and you by @thebirdandthebee ever since hangman first laid eyes on you, he was determined to make you his.

S: fair game by @sunlightmurdock since rooster had been a terrible boyfriend, hangman takes it upon himself to treat you the way you deserve.

F: parking spots and matcha lattes + filet mignons and parking spots + pad see ew and parking spots by @withahappyrefrain jake meets a girl with a bigger attitude than him and man, is he whipped

S: oh, lover boy! by @unmistakablyunknown hangman was exactly what his callsign was. being around his wife made him soft though.

F: make him wait + part 2 by @powerfulruler jake seresin was an impatient man but for you? he was willing to wait

S + A: easy lover + part 2 by @hellsbarnes you try your best to forget about hangman after getting your feelings hurt.

F + A: never knew (that i could fall so hard) by @softspiderling you and jake were friends, that's all you were.

F: secret family recipe by @justalonelyslytherin mama seresin decides to share a few family recipes with you, further solidifying her acceptance of you into the family.

F: falling in love all over again by @thedaredevilsgirl every time jake looks at you, he feels like he's fallen in love with you all over again.

F: married? by @captainamericasmotercycle to the team, jake was a loveless asshole. the last thing any of them expected was for him to have a wife

F + A: if you only knew by @sunnysidevans you always thought that you and jake were forever.

F + A: jake’s return from guys’ night has him questioning his relationship with you. by @whisperofsong

A: drunk last night by @youlightmeupfinn moving on from jake was one of the hardest things you ever had to do. when you've finally found peace for yourself, jake can't say he feels the same.

F: watch your mouth by @fandomxpreferences hangman hears someone chatting shit about you and he doesn't like it one bit

F: lay all your love on me by @bussyslayer333 jake doesn't know how to express his feelings properly.

S: tokyo summer. by @libraryofantiquitea despite it being your second date, it ends just as well as your first.

F + A: double tap by @roleycoleyreccenter 𖥻 hangman wasn't your roommate, jake was.

F: hangman's a what now? by @awaywith-thefaeries hangman is an asshole, a fighter pilot, and everything under the sun. one thing, however, that no one expected him to be, was a loving father and husband.

F: birthday blues by @dilfsouls hangman forgets your birthday and you're pissed

ROBERT 'BOB' FLOYD

A: tomorrows by @notyoursbutlewis tomorrow can't be promised and bob can only ensure that the both of you take on life on day at a time.

F: the happiest man alive by @footprintsinthesxnd you reveal your pregnancy to bob.

F: bob did what? by @mrsjobarnes bob gets into an accident while flying and you rush to the hospital.

F: lucy-lu by @rose-pearls baby lucy takes her first steps.

TOM 'ICEMAN' KAZANSKY

S: get your attention by @labarboteuse tom had spent the entire night vying for your attention and he's sure he's going to get it one way or another.

#claire’s fic recs #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin x reader #hangman x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #bob floyd x reader #robert floyd x reader #top gun x reader #top gun headcanons #top gun imagine #top gun fic #tom kazansky x reader #iceman x reader #tom iceman kazansky

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swearyshera · 8 months

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Alice,

I've loved being able to read Sweary She-Ra through the years. I happened upon it only a few months after finishing She-Ra (I was late to the party due to not having Netflix, oops), and it gave me so much wonderful content to keep my excitement for the series alive.

The way you explored the characters, especially Catra's mental health and her relationship with Shadow Weaver, helped give me a new understanding and greater appreciation of them. I bring up Catra specifically because, I'll be honest, I wasn't a big Catra fan for awhile. I liked her well enough, then kinda didn't in season 4, but grew fond of her again around season 5. But you helped me understand her thought-process, and I came to like her more because of it. I really like that you also handled her in a nuanced way, where, as you've said many times, you explained her behavior without excusing it, and that made all the difference.

One of the things I really appreciated about your take on She-Ra was how apparent your intelligence was, as well as your writing skill. It wasn't just "Catra says fuck and Glimmer has killed dozens," even though it could have been--you went the extra mile (or kilometer, since you're British :P) and gave us a variety of jokes, as well as mood shifts from comedic to tragic to dramatic to hopeful. All of the characters felt like themselves, even though they were pushed up to 11 and had some creative liberties taken, such as Frosta being a demon and Hordak's Geordie accent. You had a good handle on all of them, which can be very hard to do with a large cast, especially one written by another writer.

I also really appreciated that you took the time to answer asks and build a community here. It gave us lovely jokes such as Bob (that's right, I haven't forgotten about him), Catra's age, and Entrapta reading our comments. I've always been very shy online, but seeing you having such nice interactions with fans helped me open up, and I'm glad I did! I used to ask anonymously from time to time (yes, my first ask was about DT, all the way back during your start on season one, what else would it be? XD), and I'm glad I've gotten to chat and joke with you, as have the rest of us.

I'm so glad that you stuck with this and created such a wonderful fan-series. We never got a movie, but this was just as good, in my opinion. It was like watching SPOP for the first time all over again. I'm excited to see what you create next, be it SPOP-related or not. I hope the future has great things in store for you.

You brought us laughs, tears, and spectacular Glimmer-swears, and your blog means so much to so many people. You mean so much to so many people. I hope you find success in your future endeavors!

FOR THE HONOR OF GAYSKULL!

What can I say, it's truly been an honour (of Gayskull) to write something that I had no idea brought so much to many people. I'm genuinely quite humbled by the reaction.

I always wanted to be fair to all the characters, to show their reasons without necessarily validating the invalid stuff that they've done, and that particularly came across with Catra. It's no secret that I see a lot of parallels between her and my own history, but I've applied the same take-no-shit but be kind approach that I took with myself over the years. And I've learned a lot about mental health during that time, so I could give that sometimes painful realism, but also know just how to make fun of it in the right way.

In some ways, I feel like the characters I've written have taken on their own personality that's very distinct from the original, and that's probably why I think there's a little more mileage in them yet. Both in terms of original stuff (my pilot script Snowflakes has almost 1:1 versions of DT and Perfuma!), but also in the possibility for creating more Sweary stuff, and that is slowly taking shape - although I am taking it easy for a bit, I've already outlined a story which I'd love to make into an audio drama. Currently workshopping it with a couple of people, so watch this space...

It has been a joy to get so many asks from people, yourself included, and my inbox will always be open. I'm not going anywhere for a while! You were very much my DT-asker-in-chief, and I'm super glad you enjoyed their scenes (heck, you even got them a cameo at the end!). So thank you immensely for the support.

I'm happy I've been able to contribute to a wonderful fandom in such a way, and I'm eager to keep on giving back to a community that has given me so many amazing friends.

FOR THE HONOR OF GAYSKULL!

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bippot · 1 year

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Summary: When his old college pal inherits her grandmother's lake house, Bob is the first to nominate himself to help out. It gives him something to do and a chance to feel young, something that he only feels when he's in the sky.

Tags: Friends to Lovers, Fluff and Smut, Domestic Fluff, House Cleaning, Astronomy, Face-Sitting, Light Dom/sub, Slow Build, Caretaking, Idiots in Love

Song Recommendation: Every Summertime by NIKI

Top Gun: Maverick, Robert "Bob" Floyd Masterlist - here

└─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────┘

So many people had told Bob since he was a kid that he had an 'old soul', whatever the fuck that meant. Was it because he was on the quieter side? Or was it because he was thoughtful and kept things to himself, which was a vast difference from those he surrounded himself with? Honestly, Bob had no idea.

Even when he was younger he never felt young. Sure, he played with toys and had an imaginary friend when he was five, but by the time he was ten, he was sitting at the adult table at dinner parties. He never got in trouble for sneaking out after curfew or getting drunk with his friends before he was of age.

His father once told him, "Bobby, you and me, I feel like we're the same age." Bob was eighteen at the time and just about to move away for college. It didn't make sense to him - he was a young, strapping lad, why didn't a sense of youth enter his life?

That may be why he chose such a dangerous career. Youth goes hand in hand with adrenaline, and what's more adrenaline inducing than firing an arsenal of weapons from the backseat of a jet? So, yeah, that's as close as he got.

Throughout the years, he'd come to some conclusions:

1) Hangman has definitely been lying about the majority of his sexual encounters. Rooster, on the other hand, was not.

2) Most people have that sense of teenage giddiness when they're first in love. Bob did once have a girlfriend in the tail end of high school and he did like her. But, looking back, he didn't love her. He just didn't want to be seventeen and without a girlfriend.

And 3) He was lonely. And ever since his mama died, he didn't really have anyone to talk to about it anymore. None of his coworkers or friends would want to know, and Bob knew for a fact that he didn't want to tell them.

So when his very good friend Y/N inherited her estranged grandmother's lake house, Bob volunteered to help her redecorate. It would give him something to do during his time off and would force him to interact with another person. There was no way he'd spend all his day drinking beer and reading Steven King in his underwear if Y/N needed help.

"Ah, home sweet home." Y/N unlocked the front door and swung it open, gesturing for Bob to go in before her with a playful bow. "After you, my good fellow."

"Why thank you, fairest maiden."

They entered, both surveying the house room by room to come up with a plan of what to do. Y/N had already begun making a mental list of all the things that needed to be replaced, and how much it was going to cost. Bob, however, was more focused on how picturesque the view of the lake was from her living room.

"Woah."

By the look of it Y/N was too preoccupied to notice so Bob stretched out and grasped onto her biceps, dragging her in front of where he was stood and tilting her chin in an effort to force her to take some time to bask in the sight of the water crashing over the rocks outside her window. She was so stunned that she could only stare silently at the slow current of the lake and didn't notice how Bob was gently rubbing his hands up and down her arms. It was an unconscious action, his focus entirely still on the beauty outside the window and not on the beauty in his arms.

"Now that would be a great painting," he finally said softly, breaking the silence of their quiet moment.

"I can't even think of art with all this house shit I've got to do."

"We've. We've got to do," he corrected gently. He released her arm and took a step back, giving himself space to continue taking stock of all the heavy and seriously outdated furniture they'd have to carry out of there. There was no doubting that the puke yellow coloured couch would be one of the first things to go.

Room by room, the pair checked out the house. Structurally, it looked sound to the untrained eye. Aesthetically, not so good. It was clear that the style hadn't been updated since the sixties. And, it seemed that Y/N's grandmother had been a fan of awfully gauche animal prints. "That was certainly a choice." She reached out to pick at part of the faded tiger print wallpaper in the master bedroom. "If there's a mirror on the ceiling, I'm going to freak. Bo, tell me there's not a mirror."

He glanced upwards.

"Nope. But, there is a huge spider."

Even the bathroom was less than fashionable and came with one of those awful furry toilet seat covers. Y/N almost gagged just looking at it. There was no chance that was staying. Not that he needed to say it out loud, but Bob declared, "This is going to be a lot of work," just to make it official. Y/N couldn't disagree if she wanted to, not only because it was Bob and it was hard to argue with that cute face, but because he was completely and utterly correct.

Day one was spent binning anything simple and useless - including the aforementioned toilet seat cover and the mass amount of letters that had accumulated by the front door - and brainstorming about what the hell the house should look like. As it turned out, it wasn't as easy as they'd originally thought.

A lot of their time involved scrolling through Pinterest. The moment one of them saw something that could work, they showed the other what they thought were acceptable colours or styles. Once they both agreed, it was saved.

"What time is it?"

Despite having their phone screens right in front of their faces, Bob glanced down at his watch. "Nine twenty-four."

And then he was unable to stop his stomach from rumbling. Shit. They'd skipped right past dinner and, as per usual, Bob whined for Chinese food. Y/N, as always, gave in. The main reason why was because there was no food in the house. It also possibly could be the fact that Bob would always order something different every time and forget that he's a complete baby when it comes to anything spicy. When he said the words 'szechuan chicken', she made sure to add a meal he'd like better and a bunch of drinks to a new order.

Yet, she didn't tell him. Where's the fun in that?

"Food arriving at twenty-two hundred hours, lieutenant. Permission to see if that old ass TV is still operational?" Y/N joked, referring to the chunky old school hunk of a thing on the coffee table.

"Permission granted."

He grinned, watching as she crouched behind the TV to get a better look, giving him the perfect opportunity to totally not check out her ass. Okay, maybe he did check it out once. Or twice. Or three times. Whatever, maybe it was more than three.

After pushing the plug in the socket once she'd finally found out where the hell it was, Y/N pressed the on button. Nope. She grabbed the remote and gave it a few pokes. Nothing either. It was a bust. "We've got a dud on our hands."

"I've got a couple of episodes of The Great British Bake Off download on my phone. We could always watch that?"

"That is the most on brand thing you've ever said."

Propping up his phone with as many cooking books he could find and one copy of 27 Dresses on the coffee table, Bob huddled closer to Y/N so they'd both be able to see the screen. Although he had a big and fancy phone (that had the text size absolutely huge so he'd be able to see whatever popped up on the screen without even needing his glasses on), the screen was not ideal. They had to sit quite closely together to make it work. Neither of them complained about that.

"Look, the height of luxury!"

"Shut it, Floyd."

On the dot, the food arrived and they were quick to dig in. And the drink order came minutes later. The second Bob brought his meal to his tongue, the heat had already begun to fill his mouth. This shit was spicy! "Holy Fu-ck. Ah! Ah! Hot. Very, very... ahhhj," he cried, his face already flushing.

He stuck his tongue out in a way that was very obviously trying to cool himself down and had Y/N giggling at him. That was when he put the chopsticks down and waved in an effort to force cold air to his mouth. It didn't help. Not one bit. Then came the tears streaming down his face. "It gets worse when I breathe! Should I stop breathing altogether?" Bob hiccuped, and she knew this was the time to offer him relief. Any more suffering would be cruel on her part.

"Milk?" she asked as she reached into the drinks bag and retrieved a bottle of milk. She handed it to Bob, who immediately opened it and downed half in one gulp, leaving the bottle resting against his lips while his head rested against the back of the sofa. He let out a sigh that sounded suspiciously like one of relief.

"Oh my God." His eyes were wide, almost comically so. "I think my tongue passed out for a minute."

Y/N laughed and her hand shot to grab him a napkin. With a gentle smile, she dabbed away at the remaining moisture around his face. He continued to look at her, his face not changing as he kept staring at the soft way she handled him. The little smile never left her lips and he could swear that he swore that it grew bigger the longer he watched her, which caused his own smile to grow wider until they matched.

"You knew it was that spicy and let me eat it anyway?"

"Maybe..." He nudged her in the arm with his elbow. "Maybe I knew that Kenny is coming tomorrow to check out the electrics and he's a fan of spicy stuff."

With that, she brought out the chow mein she'd bought for this exact moment and placed it on his lap, smiling smugly as he ate it without batting an eye. And, most importantly, without acting like a little bitch about it. The pair continued the meal, occasionally talking about anything they could think of. Their banter flowed easily between them as it had since they met in college.

"All I'm saying is that I'd be great on this show."

"You? The same Robert Floyd that once put ramen in the microwave a) still in the plastic and b) for half an hour?"

"I was a boy back then, now I'm a man," he declared, pointing his chopsticks at her accusingly.

She poked him in the chest. "Just because you've got bigger muscles, doesn't make you a man," she teased, poking him again just because she could. One because it was annoying, and two because she could feel how firm his chest was under her finger.

Bob caught her hand before it jabbed him again. "Stop that," he ordered playfully, though there was no bite to his voice as the corners of his mouth quirked upwards in amusement. She tried to wiggle out of his grasp but his grip tightened around her wrist. "Say I'm a man and I'll let go."

"Never."

Casually, he swapped which hand was holding hers so he could continue eating whilst restraining her. He wasn't rough or nor was it particularly gentle either; he just wanted to keep that sweet little pout on her face as she had to use her non-dominant hand to use her chopsticks, which seemed to be an arduous task. He didn't seem to mind watching her struggle though. If anything, he was enjoying it. It was payback for not telling him that his food was going to be spicy. It's not as if it was affecting his chopstick movement at all and that's why he finished his food long before her.

"You could just give in, you know?" he mused out loud. "Tell me that I'm a man and I'll let you have your hand back. Easy peasy lemon squeezy."

"Are you suggesting I surrender?" She raised her eyebrows. "Do you want me to surrender, lieutenant?"

There was a mischievous glint in her eyes that he couldn't ignore and suddenly he wondered if that's why he liked this girl so much. Maybe it was because of that playfulness she always displayed that always made him feel slightly like a dope. In fact, he really was beginning to wonder just how he felt about her.

And yet, there he was, sitting there with a silly grin on his face and feeling like an idiot as he watched Y/N's expression turn from playful to serious in a matter of seconds, the playfulness retreating and in its place being replaced by something more akin to determination as she tried to shove a bunch of noodles in her mouth.

"Here, let me." Before she could complain, Bob snatched the chopsticks from her hand and picked up her food for her, holding it in front of her lips until she opened her mouth to let him feed her. "You could just say those magic words?"

"Maybe I like being fed like I'm some lazy sultan and you're my obedient bitch boy."

He shook his head in amusement, accepting that statement as truth since she seemed to willingly allow him to continue without argument. He fed her another piece of food, and another, and another. They went back and forth like this until she was stuffed. "Thanks Bobby. I guess you, as a twenty-nine year old human male, could be classified as a man," Y/N finally admitted as she pulled the empty bowl away from him and set it aside on the coffee table, leaving his lap free for her head to rest against his thighs.

Bob looked down to the hair tickling his skin just under where his shorts ended and sighed happily at the feeling. At first, he rested his hand on her shoulder and gave a light squeeze, then slowly his thumb started tracing small circles on her skin, causing her to close her eyes, sigh contently, and snuggle closer to him. What was that feeling? Was it the giddiness he yearned for? Or was it just the excitement of hanging out with a friend? Whatever it was, it seemed almost too good to be true. As if he were dreaming. As if he should wake up and realise that this was all just some bizarre domestic fantasy that he had to wake up from and find himself alone in his bunk. Or maybe he was dying and this was his brain's final attempt at bringing him some happiness.

To test out if this was real or not, Bob gently took a strand or two of her hair and held it closer to examine the detail of his supposed dream. That was far too intricate for his imagination to come up with. He chuckled, a sound full of warmth that made Y/N open her eyes and look up at him, confused. "Are you checking me for split ends?" she asked, trying to read his features carefully.

"Something like that."

This wasn't a dream, he knew that now. Yet, it felt almost too good when he let his hand rake through her hair. It was silky smooth. Soft, warm. Y/N closed her eyes once again, enjoying the attention to which she had been subjected to. Her face heated up at his touch, but it wasn't an uncomfortable heat, quite the opposite. Rather, she found herself relaxing against him. His fingers continued their quest, gently brushing over every inch of her hair while he spoke to her, telling her about everything and nothing just like usual, but something changed within her and a smile graced her lips as she drifted off to sleep.

That day would become a cherished memory within his life. For it would forever change their friendship in a positive manner, before either of them knew it. And as they lay tangled, both sleeping soundly as if none of it mattered, Bob felt like a lovesick teenage boy for the first time in his life.

Day two of renovations was spent stuffing all the moving boxes in the spare room so there would be space to plan out the layouts of the more important sections of the house. The walls and gross faded cabinets would need to be painted, some furniture and curtains needed to be ordered, and, as their buddy Kenny said, "This will be a bitch to rewire, but I'll do it." Then he was handed Bob's szechuan chicken and exited the house happier than he arrived.

It seemed that redecorating a house was a lot of waiting patiently as Y/N's father had insisted that she get actual professionals to check out the structure before they wasted money on the wiring, which was a good idea considering the state of the place already. Once the roof and attic and foundations had been checked, it was more than a month in.

"Bobby, you don't have to wait around with me. Don't you want to sleep in the comfort of your own bed? You'll be bored out of your mind here."

Well, the truth of the matter was that Bob liked falling asleep on the couch with her every night. They often talked in hushed tones in the early hours of morning, talking at a normal volume was far too loud for their tired ears, and he would be a fool to give that up. "What am I going to do back in my apartment? That's right, mope about until my new mission, so I might as well just hang around here to annoy you."

Something in him forced his hands out to squish her against his chest and he wrapped one arm around her waist so he could pull her closer to him as she tried to wriggle out of his hold. "You're not going to get away from me that easily," he teased, pinching her side lightly to make her giggle. Obviously, there was no escaping. Not that she wanted to escape, anyways. Giving in quicker than she'd have liked to, Y/N relaxed into his embrace and leaned her head against his shoulder, taking in his scent, his warmth, and his company.

"All done, Miss L/N," the surveyor said, walking in on their moment. After giving him a friendly pat on the peck, Y/N stepped back from Bob to deal with whatever payment or paperwork she needed to do.

Once all the checking had finally been completed, they could get to the fun stuff - the decorating and furnishing - and they were eager to get to work.

"Hand me the screwdriver, darlin'."

"Say please."

He rolled his eyes, but did as she said with a sweet "Please. Pretty please" and was rewarded with the screwdriver being held out to him. He accepted it with thanks and proceeded to pop open the paint can. "Come on, I'm not doing this all by myself. Pick up that paintbrush."

"Give me a sec," she retorted, pulling the hair band off her wrist to tie up her hair.

It shouldn't have been so fascinating to Bob, watching with fascination as she gathered up her hair in her right fist and started tying it with her left, but it was. There was something entrancing about it. Something captivating. He wanted to keep looking at her, at her hands working so deftly against her scalp, the way her tongue peeked out and her brows creased in concentration. So focused. So determined.

"Ready?" She asked, snapping him out of his daydream as she looked up at him from below her lashes and smiled.

"Me? I've been waiting for you."

So they got on with the painting, the radio playing softly in the background as the rest of the world fell away and allowed the sounds of their brushes against the paint on the canvas to fill the air. Every now and then, they glanced at each other and grinned like idiots, their smiles so wide and happy that their faces hurt.

"Love this song!" Bob exclaimed, breaking the silence as he turned the music up louder and put his whole body to it. His movements were so goofy and so uncoordinated that it didn't take long for Y/N to start laughing at his silliness.

Normally, Bob would keep himself to s rhythmic head bop or casual shoulder wiggle when he was at the Hard Deck with his buddy's. But when it came to Y/N, he became a mess of crazy, stupid dance moves that he did for her, did only to make her laugh harder. His hips swayed side to side as he made a complete mess of the wall, flicking paint onto it with dramatic flourishes and sweeping his arms across to create wild shapes that resembled ink blots.

"You're just going to watch me, missy? Or are you going to join me?" he asked, holding his hand out, palm up for her to grab on to. When she did, he took the paintbrush from her hand and placed it with his on the tray by his foot, allowing all of their hands to be free and free to move as they pleased. Y/N grabbed onto his shoulder to steady herself against his swaying body and placed her hand over the top of his, their bodies pressed together tightly as they danced like they were in a sappy high school rom com. The Frankie Valli tune accompanying them was the icing on the cliche cake.

Bob laughed and began to hum along to the song, his voice low and quiet as he sang it. Their embrace started off as silly, awkward and even clumsy. But soon it evolved into something much more intimate and slow paced. Soon they were both dancing close enough together to feel the other's heartbeats and the heat radiating between them.

"You're so warm," Y/N stated, completely relaxed as she placed her cheek against his shoulder. "And soft." The words were spoken barely above a whisper, but they lingered in his ear, stirring something within his chest and making his breathing falter. He stopped swaying suddenly and stared straight ahead at the paint on the wall, not daring to turn and look at her, yet his grip tightened on her, though, as he pulled her tighter into his chest.

They continued to hold each other long past the ending of the song, for what seemed like an eternity. Just enjoying each other's presence without saying a word and not wanting to break the serene atmosphere surrounding them.

Eventually, he blurted out, "My next mission is in two weeks. I got the call yesterday."

"How long?"

"Five and a half months."

She didn't respond immediately, but reared back slowly to study him for any reaction. She could tell instantly that he was nervous, well, because he always was. His fingers were twitching where they rested on her waist. "You better come back to me in one piece." Her tone was gentle as she reached up to cradle his face in her palms, stroking his cheeks with her thumb gently. "One big, dorky, loveable piece. You hear?"

The seriousness in her voice made him pause and swallow hard as he struggled for the words. Words that would make her understand how much that meant to him and how badly he wanted to come home to her, but only managed to say, "I will... I promise," instead.

And, as a final bit of affection, she stood on her tippy toes and gave him a quick peck on the cheek before turning back towards the paint to carry on with their task, leaving a dumbstruck Bob behind her. He took a second to compose himself before he picked up the paintbrush with a sigh, knowing for a fact he'd do everything in his power to make sure no slip ups happened during the mission.

However, some things cannot be controlled. A bird strike was never something Bob could've ever planned. Luckily, he and Phoenix survived, but neither of them got away without a litany of deep purple bruises that didn't fade before they were allowed to go back home. The second she saw Bob's car pull up on her drive in the later hours of the evening, she threw open the front door and exclaimed, "Get in here, you dork!"

He chuckled under his breath while making his way to her and wrapping her up in a tight hug which she returned instantly, almost squeezing the life out of him. His ejection bruises were still tender so he couldn't help but wince and she noticed. Of course she noticed.

"Jacket off."

When he hesitated, Y/N unzipped the front of his jacket and slid it down his arms until it hit the floor. They were over his arms and, judging how one peaked out from the neckline of his shirt, she assumed they were across his chest too. "Rest on the sofa while I run you a bath," she instructed, already pulling away from him and starting toward her bathroom. He followed after her, trying and failing to hide the pout forming on his lips.

"Y/N, I'm fine. I really am fine, okay?" Bob called to her, stopping her dead in her tracks. "It doesn't hurt anymore. You don't need to take care of me."

All she said was, "I want to take care of you," and, boy, did that make him feel like sobbing right then and there.

Giddiness. There it was. As clear as day. And if anything, it was stronger than ever. It was like someone had pumped helium into his veins and he felt lightheaded and giddy and so full and so… happy. He was grinning like an idiot and he knew it. "Yeah, uh yeah, some relaxing does sound really good right now," he replied, trying and failing to sound normal and cool.

"Bobby, sit down. Take off your shoes."

She was smiling, her dimples showing, and God, he loved those dimples so much. They always made him melt inside and think that maybe, just maybe, it wouldn't be all bad to spend every waking moment for the rest of his life with Y/N and have that smile directed at him.

"Yes ma'am." And with a mock salute, he kicked his shoes off and dropped onto the sofa. A new sofa that he'd never seen before. "Where's the gross couch?"

From inside the bathroom, Y/N snorted. "Sold it on Craigslist. Bought another one then found one of those stretchy cover things on Amazon because I only shop at the most indie and reputable companies on the globe," she joked as she leant down to turn the tap on.

"Ah, Bezos thanks you."

He stretched out his legs as best he could with aching muscles, a groan escaping as the tension drained from his body. He let his eyes wander around his surroundings, taking in all the furniture and paintings, the windowsills overflowing with random knick knacks Y/N had bought from thrift stores or stuff she'd hoarded over the years, and plants growing everywhere. "You've got this place looking nice. Very green and bright and all," he commented casually, looking all around. Hell, he'd lived in his apartment for years and it never looked this good. It was so different. So peaceful. So homey. He loved it.

└─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────┘

"You really like it?" Her voice sounded a little hesitant as she leaned against the doorway of her bathroom, waiting for his reply. But Bob was too busy admiring her home to notice she was standing there, completely beaming at how he looked in the lamplight.

Often when he left, she forgot how broad he was, how tall, how muscular, how handsome he was. Something about how gentle and soft spoken made her forget everything he could possibly be capable of being a sexy, nerdy, muscly man. Because he was all of those things - and more.

"I love it," he replied, nodding. "Makes me want to force you to let me move in."

"Well, I won't say no to that."

One second he looked up and she was by the door, the next she'd slipped inside to add a bath bomb and light some candles to guarantee he was going to he as zen as possible. And then a few moments after that, she emerged and dragged him by the hand towards the bathroom. "Use anything you want. Towels are here. And what would you prefer, a reheated stuffed pepper or something more of the delivered variety?"

"You don't-"

"Robert."

"Right. You want to." She raised her eyebrow, urging him to make his mind up. "The pepper please."

"I'm glad I'm finally getting through to you," she teased lightly, before leaving him to his bath. His eyes stayed glued to the door until she disappeared from sight, the sounds of he'd humming heard through the walls. He smiled and shook his head; it hadn't escaped his attention how comfortable and domestic the whole situation was between them.

This? This he was absolutely loving. It was crazy. Crazy ridiculous. He had thought people had lied about the whole butterflies in your tummy thing, but now he understood. Now, he knew exactly what it felt like. He could feel it whenever she looked at him, when her touch sent shivers running down his spine; he was hooked. Like a drug addict hooked on the sweet feeling of happiness that came with being close to her.

Wrapped in only a towel, Bob opened the door and padded barefoot out to join her in the kitchen, sitting up on the counter as she scrolled through Instagram and metaphorically had to pick her jaw off the floor when her eyes drifted up to catch sight of him. His hair was dripping droplets of water all over her hardwood floor, his body glistening in the light coming from the kitchen.

The sight almost took her breath away but she quickly snapped herself back into reality by the time he'd given her a sheepish smile. "Do you still have the extra clothes I left here?" He asked, pointing vaguely in the direction of where he'd stashed them last time he visited.

"If I lie and say no, will you walk around like this forever?" she blurted out without thinking, earning a scoff from him in response.

"Huh? Why?"

"Because you're hot, Bobby. Fuck, that -" She gestured in the general direction of his abs. "That is a romance novel worthy."

To say his cheeks were red was an understatement. He looked away from her, not wanting her to see the blush spreading all up to his ears, even though his chest told her how much that compliment had affected him. But then she laughed. It started small, like she wanted to suppress it but couldn't control herself, which only resulted in both of them letting free the giggles and laughter flowing throughout the kitchen.

At some point, he got closer and held onto the counter on either side of her, leaning down to rest his forehead against her shoulder as they tittered away together. Eventually, they pulled away from each other, breathing a bit heavy and trying to calm themselves.

"This might sound weird - and if it makes you uncomfortable, please say - can I touch your abs?" she suddenly asked, her gaze locked with his, her words almost shy and cautious. He nodded eagerly in response, swallowing the lump in his throat. "I've always wondered what abs feel like."

Without further ado, Y/N gently reached forward, her hands skimming along his stomach and languidly tracing the dips and valleys with her fingertips, eliciting a soft moan from his mouth. "Is this alright?" she whispered, looking at him, searching his expression for any kind of discomfort.

"It feels nice," he murmured with half lidded eyes and a soft smile gracing his lips. Her fingers continued their exploration, her touch gentle and unknowingly teasing as she was as delicate as possible due to his bruising. Bob closed his eyes, enjoying every single second and revelling in his current state of undress with Y/N. It wasn't often that he got to experience something as simple and innocent as her touching him in such a tender manner.

Her fingers trailed upwards towards his pecs, then over his shoulder so she could wrap her arms around them and give him a hug. As she slid off the counter, she confessed, "I missed you, Bobby," and rested her cheek against his warm skin, her nose brushing against the exposed flesh of his neck.

"We facetimed every day."

"Still missed you."

"I missed you more." He wrapped his strong arms around her waist, squeezing tightly.

A few minutes went by. Maybe longer. Or maybe shorter, depending on how you looked at it. Time meant nothing now. All that mattered was them, right here, right now. The warmth of Y/N pressed against him, the scent of her coconut shampoo in his hair, the feeling of her hand stroking up and down his back in slow, soothing motions. And he just let himself get lost in the giddiness. In that perfect moment, when all he could hear were her quiet mumblings and feel her soft skin, it felt like nothing else existed except for the two of them. Just them. Their little bubble, surrounded by the complete mess of her half renovated kitchen with its mismatched chairs and cabinets and appliances that didn't match at all.

Hugging a mostly naked Bob was not something Y/N expected to happen when she woke up that morning, but somehow here she was, holding him and resting against his bare chest whilst his hand was firmly resting on her hip. It felt natural and familiar. Not at all awkward or out of the blue like it probably should have.

"Sorry, I'll get your bag now." She reluctantly stepped away from him, her heart thudding loudly at the loss of contact. Still, she joked, "I'm surprised your towel hasn't fallen yet."

"I used one of those hair clip things to keep it in place."

"You're a genius. So smart." She winked at him while making her way towards her bedroom where his backpack sat on the corner of her room. In no time, she'd returned and held it out to him. "If you're looking for your hoodie, I may have worn it when it got particularly cold in the night and washed it. Now it smells like my detergent."

Now, Y/N did have hoodies of her own. Yet, something about men's clothing is way more comfortable. Well, that's the reason she claimed in her head. But in reality? She didn't lie when she admitted to missing Bob and his clothes smelt like he was still next to her.

"You wore my clothes?" He looked a little stunned, blinking slowly in disbelief and amusement as she nodded. He smiled to himself, shaking his head slightly before reaching out to take the bag from her grip and began searching through it.

Once he found the neatly folded hoodie in question, he held it out to her. "If you get cold tonight," he said quietly, his eyes fixed on hers. "Don't argue with me, just take it."

As soon as it was in her hands, he dipped back into the bathroom to dress. As he dressed, he found it difficult to contain his grin, especially when his thoughts kept forcing him to imagine her in his jumper, the sleeves slipping down over her fingers and the hood falling in front of her eyes because it was so big on her frame. Imagining was one thing, seeing her like that was another. When he returned to the kitchen, she had slipped it on and was in the process of reheating his food.

"Apparently Cassiopeia can be seen very clearly tonight, can we have a look?" She asked as she glanced over her shoulder at him.

Bob wanted to speak. He wanted to say, "Yeah, would love to. That sounds great, darlin'." But, he couldn't find the courage to. He was rendered speechless. Instead, he just gave her a nod as a reply, his mind buzzing with thoughts of her and the beautiful picture she presented before him. She looked absolutely stunning with his grey hoodie hanging loosely from her shoulders and her hair framing her face perfectly. It took every ounce of willpower he possessed to not lean across the kitchen island and capture her lips in a kiss.

When she sat down next to him, a smile still lingering on his face, it was evident that she had caught his reaction. "Something on your mind?" She asked.

"No," he answered hastily, trying to shake off any remnants of her spell. She studied his face for a long moment, waiting until he met her stare. And when he finally did, she gave him a soft, comforting smile. "What the heck is Cassiopeia?"

"A constellation." She let out a chuckle. "I thought a man of the sky, such as yourself, would have known that."

"Robert Floyd, man of the sky. I like that," he teased with a slight chuckle, causing her to laugh again.

Then it was onto star gazing. Y/N found the Big Dipper then the North star then, bang, Cassiopeia the Queen. To aid Bob, she tilted his chin and pointed it out for him to see. "Right there. See that W shape?"

He watched intently, trying hard to focus despite his distracted mind. Then she said, "This one?" and pointed at the Big Dipper with a flourish.

"Not quite."

She gently placed her hand on his wrist to point it in the correct direction and he let her do it without complaint. His eyes remained focused on her hand on his wrist, the gentle pressure sending electricity up his arm and into his brain, making him lightheaded for a few moments. "See it now?" She was watching him carefully, her eyes sparkling with amusement as he moved his gaze back to the stars.

After he regained some of his composure, he replied softly, "Yeah." The stars were particularly clear that day. "What's the story behind it?"

"Do you want the long or short version?"

"Long version."

Chuckling, she began the tale. "Good ol' Cas was once the Queen of Ethiopia and she was a vain lady. The god Poseidon heard that she was running her mouth about her daughter, Andromeda - she's there -" She tilted his head again, just as she would after mentioning the name of each constellation that came up and traced the shape in the air to help him out. "The queen claimed that her daughter was more beautiful than the Nereids and Poseidon wasn't happy about that."

Nerding out was one of Bob's favourite things to do, especially when the other person was clearly very knowledgeable and passionate about the topic they were discussing - that's how he got along so well with Mickey and his Star Trek word vomit when they had to share a bunk. Y/N's voice grew even softer as she continued the tale, her eyes glistening brightly as she spoke.

"To punish her, Poseidon sent a monster called Cetus - he's over there just under Pisces - to destroy the kingdom of her husband, King Cepheus - and he's over here." She pointed to the splattering of stars right beside Cassiopeia. "They're right beside each other for eternity, which is sweet."

A breeze blew past and Bob had to admit, he was feeling a little chilly. So, due to the age-old comfort between them, he decided that pulling her closer to him 'for warmth and only for warmth' and sticking his hands in the hoodie pocket, was reasonable. It was. It was beyond reasonable.

"Want me to give your hoodie back?"

"No. Continue with the story."

Chuckling quietly under her breath, she leaned back into him and proceeded with her story. "In order to appease Poseidon, the King and Queen had to sacrifice Andromeda. They chained her to a rock and left her out for the monster to devour her."

"And I used to get annoyed at my mama for leaving my bedroom door open," Bob joked, earning a hearty laugh from her. It was weird, Bob never spoke of his mother much nowadays.

After she died, it seemed too much like opening a wound he wasn't sure if he could ever fully close again. This was progress.

"Luckily for Andromeda, the hero Perseus -"

"Where's he?"

"To the left of Andromeda."

This time she hadn't guided his gaze, so he did an exaggerated squint to imply that he needed some help. She obliged with an almost shy smile.

"Perseus rescued her before she could be stuffed down the monster's gullet with his fancy-schmancy sword. He'd just slain Medusa, you see, and happened to be riding by on his pegasus. Just one look, that's all it took, and he was in love." She giggled, her cheeks tinged a slight pink colour. "Their wedding wasn't the most traditional one out there as one of Andromeda's old suitors - who was her uncle - arrived and tried to start a fight, but Percy used Medusa's head to turn him to stone."

Bob couldn't help but ask, "Like in that Percy Jackson movie?"

"Where'd you think Rick Riordan got his stories from?"

He rested his chin atop her shoulder and grinned to himself. "How does it end?"

"Cassiopeia was punished. Poseidon chained her to her throne and cast her into the heavens, but to be cruel he positioned her upside-down down so she'd have to run the risk of falling out of the sky for as long as there is a sky."

"And Andromeda?"

"She lived happily ever after with her husband."

It was quiet for a while after she finished speaking, both of them staring into space, lost in their own worlds. Well, Y/N was busy looking at the stars. Bob kept his eyes trained on her, unable to stop himself from smiling at the way her hair swayed slightly whenever the wind blew, and her eyes shone with wonderment whenever she gazed up at them.

"Would be nice, wouldn't it?"

"Hmm...?"

"A happily ever after," Bob clarified with a shrug, suddenly feeling rather stupid for saying it like that. In his mind, he was being so obvious. Still, he wasn't quite ready to admit how he felt yet; so, he went on, "With, uh, someone, anyone who'll have me."

Her attention immediately snapped from the sky and she turned to face him, her eyebrows rising at his choice of words. "Anyone? Bobby, a man like you should have standards. You don't just go around throwing your hat into the ring and hoping for the best, do you?" She teased.

Oh boy. That sounded like something his Mama would have said to him, though it didn't sound nearly as patronising coming from Y/N's mouth. Not to mention, that last part sounded a lot more sassy than what his Mama would have said. It was a dangerous game, but he couldn't seem to stop himself.

"Oh, I stopped throwing my hat into the ring years ago."

"Your love life that bad?"

"All I do is work and hang out with you."

Oh.

Just then, another cold gust of wind hit them and she shivered, curling into his side to try and shield him from its icy touch. "Shit! You must be freezing! Let's go back inside," Y/N announced as she interlinked her fingers into his and pulled him inside before they caught pneumonia. "Sit! Sit! I'll go and get my blanket so we can regain our body heat. Can't have you catching something!"

Yeah, he could definitely imagine having a happily ever after with her. Hell, she already made it impossible for him to forget how he felt, how warm she always felt to him. But, he shook those thoughts from his head and allowed her to pull him towards the couch before she rushed up to her room, returning less than a minute later with her arms full of the thick fleece blanket she used to wrap up in during winter.

Snuggled together as soon as she sat down, she draped the blanket over them, keeping them both cocooned in its soft embrace. Y/N rested her head against Bob's chest, listening to his heart beat, his chest moving up and down slowly and rhythmically beneath her cheek. He smelled good, she realised, like freshly washed linen, soap, sandalwood and mint.

"Bobby?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you feeling okay?"

Other than the bruises, nothing else was wrong.

"I'm fine. Why?"

"Your heart is beating really fast."

"Oh, that always happens when I'm around you."

Shit. Her eyes widened at the admission as she lifted her head slightly to look at his face. His cheeks were flushed, his lips slightly parted in embarrassment as he realised what he'd admitted, and he refused to meet her eyes. She could see the tip of his ears burning red and she chuckled, her smile growing bigger by the second as it finally dawned on her.

It was difficult to form coherent words when his brain was malfunctioning. Even if he wanted to, he couldn't find the right words, not when she looked at him like that so his hand came to cradle her cheek, tenderly brushing away some stray hairs that had fallen across her face. He brushed the strand of hair behind her ear, his thumb lingering on the skin there and he watched the way her features softened at his touch.

Slowly and so very carefully, as if scared that he might break, he leaned forward and captured her lips in his. The kiss was chaste, gentle and innocent, but it still had a certain electricity buzzing through their bodies that caused sparks to fly wherever their mouths touched. He moved his hand downwards to rest on the side of her neck, tilting her chin with his thumb to deepen the kiss.

When they separated, the kiss still lingering, they stared into each other's eyes for several moments in comfortable silence before bursting out laughing at the same time. Neither of them were exactly sure where the laughter started or ended, or even how they got there, but they couldn't care less either.

Now that it was out in the open, both of them felt relief rush through their veins. It felt like an enormous weight off their chests had been lifted. Not physically as Y/N was guided onto Bob's lap, her knees placed either side of his waist, and happily buried her face in the crook of his neck. His arms encircled her frame tightly, holding her impossibly closer to him. The butterflies in his stomach stirred once more, but this time they were different - it felt more... right somehow? As if he was meant to hold her. "We should do that more often," Bob suggested, his words a little muffled since his lips were pressed firmly against the top of her head.

Y/N gave a small hum in agreement, burying her nose further into the hollow between his collarbone and shoulder, savouring his unique scent, while running a finger along his arm absentmindedly. She could feel the tension in his muscles disappear instantly, replaced by a sort of content sigh.

"Darlin'?"

"Yes, Bobby?"

With her temple against his shoulder, she looked up at him questioningly, wondering what his next words would be about. Bob smiled down at her, gently tracing her jawline with his finger. His lips barely grazing hers as he pleaded, "One more kiss?" He paused. "Please?"

"Just one?"

"Well, I don't want to push my luck."

"You're such a dork."

She laughed quietly at his reply before closing the gap between them again, attempting to press her lips to his in a sweet quick peck. Bob had other ideas. With a firm grasp on her waist and the other tangled in the hair at the nape of her head, he dipped her down until her back hit the couch cushion. Before she knew it, he was on top of her, leaning in for a deeper kiss. They remained locked together for a few seconds until she broke apart, her lips hovering below his as she whispered softly, "I feel lightheaded."

"Good thing you're lying down," he joked, pulling her flush to him and pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth. After that, he continued peppering kisses along her jaw, trailing his kisses down until he reached the soft spot at the base of her throat. When he pulled away, Y/N let out a small whine. Bob smirked against the soft skin there before asking, "That enough?"

"More," Y/N pouted. A smirk crept upon his face and without missing a beat, he leant in again for another, then another, then another. He couldn't seem to help himself, the urge to be in close proximity with her overwhelming and leaving no room for thought. Plus, she wasn't complaining.

No matter how many times he kissed her, she never seemed to tire of it. Every time he was within inches of her, she seemed to unconsciously lean towards him. Whether it was subconscious or deliberate, she couldn't say, but she didn't particularly care. At all. In fact, she loved every moment of it. And, judging from the way her hands ran lazily along his back, she was loving it too.

"I don't want to stop but I am about to knock out," he mumbled in between kisses, trying to pull away from her as subtly as possible, though of course he didn't really succeed in doing anything. "Came straight here from the airport. Didn't sleep a wink on the flight."

His attempt at escape only lasted two seconds before he kissed her again. He was powerless to do anything but succumb to the temptation of her soft lips pressed against his, and as the taste of her lingered on his tongue, he became weak. If this was heaven then, Bob wouldn't mind dying. He wasn't religious anymore, but just knowing he was with her and that everything would be alright because of his decision, it was enough to make him believe in some sort of good out there.

"Can't stop: you're too pretty. Like a goddess in disguise. I'm sure you'd beat those.... those - dang, what were they called? Nerd-oids? Nerrr... Poseidon people."

"Nereids."

"You'd beat the Nereids in a pageant any day."

A giggle bubbled up from inside her chest. "I think you just doomed me to be chained to a rock and fed to a horrifying sea monster," she muttered, trying to contain her giggles.

Bob pulled back a fraction so he could stare her straight in the eyes, the corners of his mouth curled upwards as his eyes twinkled mischievously. "I'd save you in a heartbeat." He planted a few soft pecks all over her face, ending with placing a soft, yet lingering kiss on her lips. "But," he added, kissing the tip of her nose, "I'm not sure if a plane is as cool as a flying pony and my sword skills are limited to that time I dressed up as King Arthur in my fifth grade school play."

That was unexpected information. Yet, she knew he wasn't exaggerating about how tired he was because information about his life always fell from his lips whenever he was lacking sleep. His eyelids were drooping heavily, threatening to fall shut at any given second as he let out a big yawn.

"Let's go to bed, Perseus."

"Lead the way, Andromeda."

He allowed her to guide him upstairs, her hand tucked securely in his. They climbed the stairs in relative silence, the sounds of the distant waves and wind in the trees providing a soothing backdrop to their quiet night. By the time they reached the door, he yawned again and she laughed at his adorable antics.

Life was perfect as they continued to revel in the comfort of their new relationship. Well, except there was this one thing - they hadn't been intimate yet. It was two months in and nothing of that sort had happened. It's not as if Y/N had never tried to initiate sex, but Bob always changed the subject or stopped them before they'd even started.

Still, that didn't stop them from being a happy couple.

"Baby, are you ready yet?" His voice rang clear throughout the house as he checked his watch.

Their friend Kenny was having his birthday gathering at a fancy bar and Y/N had taken it as her opportunity to dress up really nice to persuade Bob to finally do something about the sexual tension between them.

"Two minutes."

"You said two minutes five minutes ago."

Y/N rolled her eyes and finished applying her lipstick and brushed her hair with her fingers before looking in the mirror. Yep, Bob was going to be drooling over her in 3...2...1... "Holy fuck!"

Her eyes went wide as she watched Bob's jaw drop at the sight of her. He stood frozen in place, staring at her as her heels clicked against each stair she walked down. His eyes trailed from her legs up her torso to her face. He shook his head slowly, unable to speak as he brought a hand up to brush back some of his hair back from his face. She didn't know whether to laugh, coo, or cry at the adorableness radiating from his face; he was swooning. "Do I look okay?" She asked, tugging at her dress nervously.

"Y/N..." He trailed off, his hands clutching at her hips tightly, as if afraid she would disappear. "You look absolutely beautiful. Gorgeous, actually," he corrected himself quickly and let out a low whistle as he gazed upon her, his eyes roaming across every inch of her body, taking in every feature.

The dress fit her perfectly, emphasising her curves perfectly and accentuating her natural figure. It was simple yet elegant, classy in that old fashioned, off the shoulder movie star way. She had styled her hair into a low bun, with long, flowing strands framing both sides of her face like an angelic halo. Her makeup was flawless and her jewellery sparkled brightly. She felt incredibly beautiful just standing there and completely captivating him.

Then, all of a sudden, she was yanked into a hungry smooch, causing her to squeak in surprise. His hands slipped around to rest on either side of her body, keeping her firmly trapped against him as he took advantage of her gasp. She placed a hand against his chest, trying to get some space between them, but he held fast, refusing to let her go.

"Bobby, we have to go."

"Two minutes."

More than two minutes passed by as he continued kissing her. She eventually had to push him a little to get a chance to disconnect herself from him. As soon as she did, however, Bob immediately grabbed hold of her waist once more and pulled her right back onto him. It was impossible to resist, but she had to.

└─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────┘

"You have lipstick all over your mouth," Y/N teased as she pulled out a tissue from her bag and wiped it away while Bob gave her a devilish grin. She chuckled, shaking her head, her eyes glancing back up at his briefly returning to the job at hand. "Seriously though. We should go. You know, for Kenny's party," she reminded him.

Bob groaned loudly like a grumpy teenage boy, his expression falling slightly. It was obvious that wasn't what he wanted anymore. She knew that he would be begging to leave early.

Kenny was surprised that Robert Floyd, the man that was an hour early to the first frat party he went to and waited on the porch until other people arrived to go inside, was late. Then he saw the tiny unwiped smudge of Y/N's lipstick in the corner of his lip and knew exactly why Bob had been twenty minutes late. "So, are you guys officially together now?" Kenny asked when Bob entered the room and sat down next to him. His friend nodded, letting out a dreamy sigh.

"Yeah, we are."

"Finally!" Kenny cheered, throwing an arm around Bob's shoulders, effectively knocking him off his chair as he laughed loudly. "And you, Missy: you look gorgeous tonight! So hot, I almost can't stand it!"

The birthday boy clearly had already started the fun before he even got to the bar. Kenny was nursing some exciting looking cocktail that had a sparkler and multiple mini umbrellas in it. "You wanna know what was the first thing he said when he saw you? Rob pointed, did that thing - you know, that innocent farm loverboy look - and whispered to me, and I quote, 'that is the most beautiful girl I've ever seen'," Kenny slurred slightly, laughing loudly as he mimicked Bob's tone of voice. "I thought he was pointing to the poster of Megan Fox that was right beside your head and agreed with him."

Looking up at him (admittedly, she didn't have to crane her neck as high as usual due to her heels), Y/N found the sight of Bob's blushing cheeks an amusing sight to behold. Bob coughed, attempting to recover, but any doubt that the story was the ramblings of a drunk man was squashed by his reaction. "Why'd you never let this story slip?"

"Didn't want you to think I only became your friend because I think you're pretty," Bob shrugged sheepishly. It always astounded her how his confidence was zapped out of him whenever he was in public.

Soon, Y/N was pulled away to talk to the girls who all wanted to know where the hell that dress came from, and Y/N was willing to fill them in. From across the bar, Bob was being teased by all his friends, which was usual.

"Look at you! You're totally whipped."

"You say that as if it's a new thing. He's had a crush on Y/N for years."

"Remember that time Y/N got super drunk and Rob carried her all the way to her dorm at three am."

"That's not even the whole story. They stopped off a McDonald's on the way and he bought her the twenty nuggets, but he ended up eating them all when he slept on her floor -"

"I slept next to her," Bob interjected, a hint of smugness in his voice. "She sobered up by the time we got into her room and didn't want to sleep alone."

Memories of their college days kept being brought up as the group chatted amongst themselves, making jokes and laughing along with each other. Eventually, the two groups merged into one large group who all made sure Bob was forced out onto the dance floor.

And as always, it took no time for Y/N to coax him into her arms to move to the music, swaying her hips to the beat that was more fast paced than the songs the couple were used to dancing to. He grinned, allowing himself to be dragged across the dance floor, enjoying every second that he spent with his girlfriend in his grip.

Though, the mix of how hot she looked and the way her body was moving against his, it was hard for Bob to pay attention to anyone else. Y/N's back was flush to his chest as she danced against him, occasionally tilting her head up to smile at him. Every touch, every kiss sent waves of euphoria through his body and he couldn't keep the dopey grin off his face as he gazed down at her.

Bob had dressed up too, but, at this point, his once perfect tie had been loosened and his collar unbuttoned. His clothes consisted of a button up shirt that had once been tucked into his pants, his sleeves pushed up as far as they could go, showing off his muscled forearms and biceps. A pair of dark wash jeans hugged his thighs snugly and his sneakers, which still fit perfectly, shone under the lights as he swayed side to side to the rhythm of the song.

"Bobby, baby, you look so sexy right now," Y/N giggled as she pressed her lips against his cheek, causing him to chuckle loudly and shake his head as his eyes fluttered closed and his lips twitched into a small smile.

"Can we leave now?"

"No! Not yet."

He whined childishly, pulling her closer towards him. He rested his forehead against her shoulder, burying his nose into her neck as he breathed in deeply, enjoying how intoxicating the scent of her perfume was.

"Shots! Guys I've got everyone a shot and you have to take it because it's my birthday," Kenny exclaimed, causing Y/N and Bob to silently agree to slip away for a second to ensure they didn't have to do it. Bob had never been a huge fan of booze and Y/N wanted to make sure she was completely sober when they got home.

They snuck into a quiet corner. Bob sat on a bar stool and tugged Y/N by the waist so he was eye level to her chest. "Please can we go?" He pouted, giving her the puppy dog eyes and the most pitiful look he could possibly manage to give.

Y/N chuckled quietly, shaking her head fondly at his cute behaviour. She leaned forward slightly, resting her arms on his shoulders as she ran her fingers through his hair. "I know you're not a big fan of parties, why don't we stay for Kenny's horrible attempt at karaoke? Then, I promise, after that we can go. Sound good?"

"Sounds good."

As they presumed, Kenny's singing was horrible. But they listened to it anyway, cheering him on from the crowd, clapping their hands enthusiastically and smiling widely at his terrible performance. When he finally left the stage, the pair said their farewells and headed home.

The drive home was relatively quiet in the beginning. Bob was trying to focus on the road and not how Y/N's dress had slid up her thigh just slightly. It was too much. His hand languidly roamed up her thigh, his thumb rubbing softly against her skin. "Can I tell you something? Please promise you won't freak out?"

"I promise, Bobby."

Here goes nothing. "I'm so hard right now. Like really hard."

"Why would I freak out about my boyfriend and his erection?" Y/N asked innocently with a grin, her eyebrow raising teasingly. To go even further, she slowly slid his hand against her underwear. "Why would I mind when I'm as wet as I am? Feel it?"

His breath hitched, causing his lips to part and his hand retreat back to the steering wheel while his brain short circuited. The heat between the both of them caused Bob to become dizzier by the minute. "Uh, yeah," he managed to stutter, barely able to get the words out and trying desperately to concentrate on the road ahead of him. "I- I can feel it."

"Don't you want to do something about how wet I am, baby?" Her voice was husky and thick with need as she reached over and ran her hand slowly up his thigh again. His throat felt drier than the Sahara desert.

"I do... Trust me, I really do. I don't want to disappoint you." Bob smiled sadly down at the steering wheel. As much as he wanted to spend the night making love to his girlfriend, he couldn't risk messing up and losing her interest. "An old girlfriend told me I'm not, uh, I'm not good at... that I got too deep in my head and neither of us could enjoy it... Y/N, I want you to enjoy it but I don't know how and-"

Shit. She'd intended to turn him on, not turn him into a nervous mess. Her hand came up to soothingly caress the nape of his neck, calming his frantic rambling. "Breathe for me, sweetheart. Take a few deep breaths," she whispered calmly, gently running her nails across the skin. She continued soothing the area until he stopped mumbling and breathing heavily. "It's okay, baby. We'll wait until we get home, talk about everything and, if you want, I can take the lead until you become comfortable. Does that sound like a good plan?"

Never in a million years did he expect to get so turned on, but here he was, shifting uncomfortably in his seat with his mouth wide open in surprise. "Yes! I mean, yeah...yeah, that sounds fine. Okay, yes. Yes please," he quickly responded, unable to stop the smile from creeping onto his face.

Y/N giggled before placing a small kiss on his cheek and settling back into her seat, staring outside the window as the car began its journey back home. Bob stayed silent throughout the ride, his mind running wild as thoughts raced around inside of it. This kind of excitement and passion felt almost foreign, yet at the same time very familiar. It had been there, lurking underneath the surface for months.

Once they parked up on her drive, Bob was quick out of his door to help her out of her side like a true gentleman should, earning an amused grin from her in return. He was quick to hang his jacket up and kick off his shoes as he looked up at her with eager eyes when they got inside. Without her even asking him to, he knelt before her and gently placed her foot on his thigh so he could undo the straps of her heels before sliding off them.

"You're so good to me, baby," she cooed as his gaze flickered back up to hers, a shy smile playing on his lips. Her fingers traced his jawline as she gestured for him to stand upright, and as soon as he pulled himself up from the floor, he wrapped his arms around her waist.

"Thank you for understanding." His cheeks were pink as he nuzzled his face against her shoulder, his heart pounding wildly within his chest. Y/N laughed, wrapping her arms around his neck as his lips attached themselves to her skin.

After a moment, Bob pulled back slightly to press a long, lingering kiss against her soft lips, his eyes closing tightly as he relished the feeling. Once the kiss ended, he took one last lingering glance downwards before looking her straight in the eyes. "Do you..." Bob started hesitantly, biting down lightly on his lower lip. "Would you like to try tonight?"

"It has been forever since I've gotten laid so I'm going to say yes," she replied, her tone playful as she grabbed his tie and seductively pulled him up to her room, dragging him behind her excitedly.

For once, he might actually enjoy sex.

"Unzip me, baby," she ordered, her tone still somewhat soft. Bob obliged, unzipping her dress swiftly and slipping it off of her, leaving her standing only in panties, her skin glistening in the faint glow of the moonlight filtering through her blinds. "Like it? I picked this bra just for you."

A satisfied grin curled upon her lipstick lips as she watched Bob stare hungrily at her body, the lust burning in his gaze. She loved knowing that she drove him crazy, but seeing him like this made her heart flutter and her stomach tighten in anticipation. "Do you want to touch?" She inquired as she walked towards him slowly, trailing kisses along the sides of his neck and up towards his jaw. She found his hands and slid them up her sides until both were firmly groping at her breasts, kneading and massaging them as she let out moans of pleasure. "Bobby, take my bra off for me."

Instantly, he nodded, his pupils dilated and his breathing uneven as he undid the clasp of her bra, slowly letting the material slide down her body until it landed around her feet, exposing her beautiful bare breasts to him and allowing his lips to drop to one, taking a nipple between his teeth before tugging at it gently.

At first Y/N was lost in bliss, her hand on the back of his head to encourage him to continue with his ministrations. But then she became aware and tugged on his hair. His attention immediately snapped up towards her as he looked at her curiously. "Did I say you could do that?"

"Um, I didn't think-"

"You don't have to think." Her fingers deftly slipped beneath the front of his trousers and tugged at his belt, pulling it free and tossing it carelessly aside. She stared up at him with a devilish grin, her eyes twinkling as she unzipped his jeans and let them fall around his ankles. "Go sit down on the bed, sweetheart."

Bob complied without complaint, plopping down on her bed and waiting patiently for her to kneel between his legs. He watched entranced as she tenderly placed a kiss on each knee cap before leaning up to pull him down by his tie, connecting their lips in a passionate kiss. His tongue explored her mouth greedily and she allowed him access without hesitation, parting her lips ever so slightly as their tongues moved in perfect sync, creating a sensation unlike anything he had ever known before in her life.

Her hands slipped underneath his shirt, her fingers brushing the skin of his chest and abs in the way she knew he liked. Bob groaned as she trailed her fingernails down his abs, leaving hot, red marks in the process which caused his stomach to knot. "Can I touch you?" She asked hoarsely, kissing his cheek. "Would you like me to?"

"Yeah," he breathed out in response.

Y/N kissed up his neck and nibbled his earlobe affectionately as she slipped her hand into his underwear. He whimpered under his breath as she began stroking him, the warmth she left sending shivers racing down his spine and the feeling of ecstasy shooting through his entire system instantly. The sound of his moan only seemed to spur on Y/N as she began moving faster and faster, making him gasp in surprise and delight.

He felt as though he were flying and every nerve ending felt alive as all the pent up emotions of frustration and confusion and worry that had built up inside of him melted away leaving nothing more than pure euphoria. All of his nerves went lax and his brain blanked out of all thought, he didn't need to focus on anything other than getting what he wanted.

"Good boy, baby," Y/N praised him as she kept pumping him relentlessly. "Do you feel good?"

"Yes... yes... oh god yes..." He then proceeded to mutter incoherent words that were soon drowned by moans as she continued stroking him vigorously while his orgasm built up.

Y/N smirked wickedly as she continued to tease him mercilessly, bringing him to the brink then slowing down. He whined lowly, begging her to go faster, his hips bucking as his whole body shook with intense pleasure. "Please...please, please, please, please, please… I, I need it. Darlin, I - Fuck! Please, baby."

"You sound so sweet when you beg." She gave him a teasing kiss on the lips, pulling away as soon as he tried to deepen it. "Not going to let you come yet."

A giggle escaped her mouth at the face he made as edged him, watching with amusement how he shook and tried to catch his breath after the intense rush. She leaned over him and pressed a gentle kiss onto his cheek to quell any frustration he had, smiling when he returned the gesture eagerly. He needed that contact to ground him in reality; the fact that he wasn't dreaming or imagining things; this was real and happening right now.

That need is why he allowed himself to suggest, "Sit on my face?"

"Bobby, are you sure?" she murmured in response, her fingers grazing along his jaw as she spoke, her eyes never leaving his own, searching them for any signs of uncertainty.

"I'm positive, baby." His voice came out strained and breathless, his entire body aching for her touch. "Please. I need it."

The look of adoration in his eye melted her insides to mush, leaving her completely speechless. For a moment, she forgot everything as she simply sat there staring at his gorgeous blue eyes. Her thumb ran circles across his cheek, caressing him gently.

"One hundred percent sure?"

"Absolutely."

Who was she to deny him? Ensuring that she had his consent and permission, she proceeded by slowly undoing his shirt and tie. "Can't ruin your fancy clothes, can we?"

"I could always buy more."

With a chuckle at how desperate he sounded, she reached up and pushed his glasses off of his face, setting them on the nightstand next to the bed. His eyes followed her movements, drinking in her appearance appreciatively as she kissed down his chest, teasing at the muscles of his abdomen before trailing her lips up to his cheek. She paused to give him one last soft peck on his lips, telling him, "Lie with your head hanging off the side of the bed."

Quickly, he scrambled to do as such, lying flat on his back as she stood up from the bed and stepped out of her underwear. A blush spread across his face as he glanced upwards at her body. He couldn't help it as his eyes roved over her naked flesh in appreciation, marvelling at how perfect she was. She was an angel and he wished there was a way he could spend every single day of his life worshipping her body like he did now.

Before she hovered her pussy over his mouth, she reassured, "Tap my thigh if you are suffocating." He did the motion to prove that he understood. "Ready?"

"Born ready, darlin."

So, with deliberate slowness, she lowered herself onto his face, keeping her feet on the ground so she could easily remove herself if he needed to breathe. When he took hold of her thighs, however, she knew for a fact that he was thoroughly enjoying himself, a low hum emitting from his throat every few seconds as he licked at her pussy. He moved his tongue around leisurely, teasing it against the folds as he sucked hard on her clit which prompted her to whimper and grind against his face.

Pleasure overtook her senses and she didn't want them to stop. But they had to. Only for a little bit because he had been making her feel good but had yet to give himself two seconds to make sure if he was okay. "Let's, oh fuck, let's take a second to breathe, baby."

"No!" He said quickly, pushing her legs further apart with his free hand and forcing himself deeper into her pussy.

"Lieutenant Floyd, you're going to suffocate."

Hearing her say that forced him to follow orders. "Good boy. Breathe for me, my pretty boy," she cooed, her thumb brushing against his bottom lip as she gazed lovingly down at him. "Kiss?"

"Want one."

It was rather sweet when Y/N had to fully sit on his chest and lean down to give him a kiss. She giggled and rested her hands on his shoulders, keeping herself balanced on top of him as she planted tiny kisses all over his face. "Mmm..." He moaned happily as he closed his eyes, letting out a contented sigh, relishing every second of being surrounded by her warm, sensual scent.

Robert Floyd was pussy drunk. And, he wanted to get wasted.

"My break is over."

"Oh, is it?" Y/N teased with a smirk. His eyes were glazed over with lust, his chin slick with drool and her, his hair a mess as brought her knee closer to his face so he could kiss it repeatedly. He looked as if he was in heaven between her legs and she just loved to see him so happy. He pouted, grabbing a handful of her ass to tug her forward until she was flush with his face again.

Then he got back to it and began sucking hungrily on her clit, causing her to squeal in delight. She arched her back as he worked her with abandon, her nails scraping lightly against the skin of his shoulder, eliciting a loud moan from his throat.

"God, you taste so good!" It was a little muffled, but she knew what he had said. She chuckled, placing her hand into his hair to run her fingers through it as her hips thrust up against his face. He groaned once again, his hands roaming all over her body in search of new sensations to stimulate her pleasure more.

As the time went on, Bob grew bolder, licking and sucking on her clit with more force and teasing her nipples between his fingers. Y/N moaned loudly, throwing her head back as he continued working his magic on her. "Bobby," she whispered urgently when she found herself close. She needed release; she needed it badly. "You're doing so, uh, so fucking well I can't-" Her orgasm hit her suddenly, taking her completely by surprise and causing her to scream out.

He continued to eat her out greedily, his fingers digging deeply into her flesh as she threw her head back in ecstasy. After her body stopped twitching and her cries subsided, he continued to suck and lick her juices off of her thighs as he listened to her panting breaths.

"Are you okay?"

"So okay," Y/N chuckled, trying her hardest to pull herself together. She gave him a playful smile before moving to sit on the bed beside him, resting her head on his broad shoulder. "Did you enjoy yourself, baby?"

The answer was obvious by the goofy grin on his face and the glint in his eyes. "Mhm. So much." He sat up to wrap his arms securely around her waist, pressing her against him possessively as he nuzzled his face against hers and inhaled her scent. "So so so much."

Y/N laughed softly, wrapping her arms around him too as she pulled him in for a tender kiss. "Good." She smiled against his lips. "Cause we're not done yet."

His grin widened even further at her words, knowing exactly where she was heading. "Do you want me or you to take the reins for the next bit?" she inquired seductively, arching her eyebrow in challenge. His grin disappeared as quickly as it had appeared as his cock hardened rapidly beneath his boxers, a growl slipping past his lips at the thought of how good he was going to feel and the sounds she'd make doing so.

No hesitation. "You."

"Head against the pillows then. Let your eyes close."

Not needing another instruction, he complied immediately. He could barely wait for her to remove his boxer briefs, his eyes fluttering shut and his breathing increasing slightly. The warmth of her hands on his erection made his eyes snap open to find her already positioned in front of him, holding his length tightly in her hand.

As soon as he felt the tip of her hot pink tongue running down his length, his knees turned to jelly, his eyes rolling to the back of his skull and he released a deep groan of pleasure. "Oh God...you're gonna be the death of me, darlin'."

"Shh, relax. Relax and let yourself get taken care of."

"I won't last long. Just fuck me."

She couldn't help the giggle that slipped past her lips. "I will. Trust me, I'm just trying to rile you up before I ride your cock," she retorted teasingly before sinking her teeth lightly into his thigh, her lips lingering around the sensitive area to draw out a loud groan from him.

"I'm riled. I am thoroughly riled. I need you, please. Baby, please," he pleaded desperately, gripping her hair tightly as he brought their faces closer so that he could kiss her. She moaned in response as his tongue delved deep within her mouth and she felt herself being lifted into his waiting arms, his grip on her waist beginning a needy slew of grinds that were very persuasive.

Continuing her teasing would be cruel at this point, so Y/N gave in to the desire bubbling inside of her and his borderline pitiful whines. She slid the palm of her hands down his chest until they settled comfortably on his waist as she sat herself up. "Are you ready? Do you want me to make you feel good?"

She waited until he nodded to lower herself down on his cock, gasping at the stretch as she pushed down onto him slowly and watching him intently as he clenched his jaw tight. He was fighting to keep his eyes open to inspect every change on her face as she adjusted herself to the size of his dick.

"That's it! You're doing amazing," he encouraged breathlessly. Her head was tilted back, exposing her neck as she enjoyed the sensation of finally having his cock buried inside of her for the first time and it definitely was a task to take. "Just a little more. Good girl, don't stop now."

Letting out soft whimpers, Y/N finally took all of him into her body and started moving back and forth slowly, allowing his shaft to fill her up. Bob's fingers tangled themselves in the sheets as she did and he tried to fight back the urge to come already, but it was hard when he was feeling so damn good.

"I know you want to come, baby. Hold out just a little longer, " she coaxed, her tone gentle and low. As she increased the pace of her movement, she ran a finger down his abs, making him groan and buck up further into her. "Oh fuck, do that again."

So, as he did with all of her orders, he did as she said. With his grip tight enough to bruise her hips, he began fucking upwards into her pussy, driving her crazy as he'd managed to find a certain sensitive spot completely on accident. Every single thrust of his hips sent shockwaves of pleasure through her body, each one sending a jolt of pure pleasure through her.

Judging by his whines, he was very close to the edge so she began to play with her clit to help her along, causing her to tighten her muscles around him and her to gasp loudly as her whole body shook violently. "Can I? Can I come now?" Bob gasped desperately, his cock throbbing in desperation and needing relief. "Oh fuck, you feel so good coming on my cock, so good that I'm going to, I'm going..."

"Let go, Bobby. You'll hurt yourself if you hold in any more. Come for me. Come for me baby, you know you want to. Yes, right there...come for me..." Y/N begged, loving the way his voice sounded and the sight of his handsome face contorted in ecstasy, sweat dripping down his brow, a vein pulsating in his neck as his eyes rolled back in his head, unable to control himself anymore.

In no time flat he came, releasing his load deep inside her with a broken cry of "I love you." Then he limply flopped back onto the mattress, still twitching inside her as his climax gradually faded away, leaving him exhausted and sweaty and sated. She giggled happily and crawled over top of him as his heart began to beat wildly in his chest, and she placed her warm lips against his neck before whispering sweet, sweet nothing in his ear.

"You did so well, baby boy. Look at you, you're all fucked out." She stroked his damp cheek gently before pulling away. He grabbed her arm before she could move towards the bathroom. "I was going to get a towel to clean us up."

"Let me."

Without wasting a single second that she would use to convince him to stay in bed, he climbed out and rushed into the bathroom. Yes, he really did profess his love while coming in her. No, that is not how he wanted it to happen. He wanted it to be romantic. He had it all planned out.

"Y/N?"

"Yes?"

"Can you forget what I said when I came?" He returned to her, staring at her as she focused on the ceiling and took some deep breaths only for her head to whip to him, a curious yet hurt expression on her face. "Because that was not planned."

They were silent as he ran a towel around her thighs, cleaning up any remnants of him from her skin and her from his. She didn't answer his question, choosing to remain quiet, her eyes fixated on the wall in front of her until he took her chin between his thumb and forefinger, gently turning her face towards him so that she could meet his gaze directly.

"Would you like to hear my plan?" He brushed a lock of sweaty hair away from her face and tucked it behind her ear. She swallowed thickly, her eyes never wavering from his as she gave a small nod.

Well, he might as well explain. Especially when she looked all pouty at the wrong assumption she'd made that he didn't love her.

"My big romantic gesture to tell you that I am hopelessly, so pitifully, so so deeply in love with you was supposed to be on your birthday. I had it all worked out. I'd have it all set up: the blanket so we could lie back and stargaze comfortably; the snacks because, well, snacks are great; and then I'd let you unwrap the telescope I got you."

He paused to chastise himself, "Which I could've not mentioned to keep it a surprise, but I've done it now and I'm going to get you something else as well to keep the mystery going."

"You don't need to get me anything else. The telescope is perfect as it is," she said softly, leaning forward to plant a small peck on his lips, her smile spreading as his hand reached up to cup the side of her face tenderly.

"Then we'd cuddle. We'd watch the stars. It would be so comfy and sweet and you'd have a pink nose because it's cold out. And the best part? Your cheeks." His thumbs started tracing small circles into her cheeks. "These cute things. They'd become the same colour as your nose when I finally said those three words that I've been trying to say for so long."

His words seemed almost too good to be true, yet they were one hundred percent pure truth.

"Now I've fucked it by moaning it when I shot my come in you." He paused, giving her a look full of apology before continuing, "I hope that's okay, but I couldn't help myself. It was simply too good and-"

Interrupting him, she pressed her lips to his before he even finished explaining himself. His body relaxed immediately in reaction to her touch, his lips relaxing into a gentle smile when she leant back for him to loom above her, trapping her underneath him.

"I love you too, Bobby," she whispered tenderly as she stared up at him, a blush forming across her cheeks, a bright smile adorning her face. "But we can do the cheesy mushy shit later because I'm sticky and would love round two in the shower."

Bob smiled back at her softly as he pulled back slightly and planted his forehead atop hers. He couldn't help but beam, "So you're saying that you love me and that I was good enough at sex that you want to go again?"

Y/N laughed quietly under her breath. "Maybe."

Bob was living in a constant state of giddiness and he was loving every second of it.

"I think I should take that as a yes then, huh?"

"I wouldn't mind taking the lead for a while," she teased, poking his stomach with her index finger playfully. A mischievous glint appeared in his eye and she knew exactly what he was about to say next without having to utter another word, knowing that he was up for the challenge.

"Want me to carry you to the bathroom?"

The answer was obvious.

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