#I’ll try to catch up as best I can over the next couple days

[inga-don-studio]

I’m officially back from my short social media break! Even if I wasn’t as strict about logging off as I probably should have been, five stars do recommend 10/10. I’m for sure doing this more frequently.

I am planning on turning this blog back into a more even mix of personal posts & reblogs, too. The personal post quota will of course be subject to mental health & whether I even have anything interesting to share (both of which have been in gravely short supply for a while), but I want to at least try to put myself out there more. We’ll just have to see how that goes.

Missed all y’all & wish you a good day/night!

[yoongiseesawmp3]

cupid - seungcheol (m)

summary: brother’s best friend!seungcheol. you move in with your brother joshua while you look for a new place, so you finally meet his best friend and roommate seungcheol. you’ve only heard stories, so you’re not prepared for the good looks or the charm that he constantly exudes. after a really bad date, you need someone to save you, and with joshua mia, seungcheol comes to the rescue.

word count: 9.3k

warnings: smut!!! afab reader. unprotected sex. gendered terms (pretty girl, reader referred to as sister/sis). thigh riding. a little oral (m receiving).

masterlist

“jesus, how many boxes do you have?” joshua complains as you hand him another box of books to lug into his apartment. 

“only a couple more,” you tell him. “these are all the things i couldn’t fit in storage.”

“get a bigger unit next time,” your brother grumbles as you start the walk back into his building. 

“no,” you say stubbornly, and you can almost hear him roll his eyes. “why did you park so far away?”

“why are you complaining!” he shrieks. “i’m doing something very nice for you! be grateful!” 

“i am,” you say as you rush to open the door for him, and he quietly thanks you. “seriously, you don’t know how much this is helping me, big bro. i was about to have a breakdown trying to find a place before my old lease ended.”

“i heard,” joshua laughs. “mom called me the other week and told me to check on you, she thought you were losing it.”

“yeah, well,” you sigh, “if i had to deal with those roommates any longer i was going to.”

“so you’re looking for a place by yourself?” joshua asks as the elevator dings. he lets you go in first, reminding you of what floor to press before you respond.

“yeah, i can finally afford one, so i figured it would be nice to have my own space.”

“i can understand that,” he nods.

“you happy living with your roommates?” you ask. “not ready to give up your frat boy days from college?”

“shut up,” he says. “not all of us got good jobs right after graduation. i need roommates if i wanna live in this area.”

“and remind me of their names again?” you ask, the elevator stopping on your floor. you let joshua go first, following him down the hall and trying to remember the unit number.

“well there’s seungcheol, or cheol,” josh starts. “you haven’t met him yet, he’ll be home later.” he unlocks the door and lets you in as he goes on. “and then mingyu-”

“i remember him,” you say happily, glad to know there’ll be a familiar face here.

“and i remember the little crush you used to have on him,” joshua smiles evilly. 

“i did not!”

“hm, you sure?”

“swear on your life.”

“whatever,” he laughs. “anyway, he’s got a girlfriend now, and we haven’t seen him here for longer than a couple hours since they started dating. so you can stay in his room until you find a place.”

“oh no, i couldn’t-”

“he doesn’t mind,” joshua waves you off, your box placed ungracefully on the floor. “seriously, he doesn’t even keep his stuff here anymore. it won’t be an issue.”

“if you say so,” you sigh. “ok, one more trip?”

“nope,” joshua shakes his head before laying on the couch. “you’ve used up all your favors for today.”

“what a helpful brother you are,” you deadpan. “give me the keys. i’ll go get the rest of my stuff. alone!” 

“sounds good!” josh replies, tossing his keys to you dangerously. “don’t get lost!” 

“no promises!” you shout back, locking the door behind you as you go. you thankfully don’t have much left to bring up, so you’re able to grab a majority of your things this trip. what’s left you can get later, because you’re exhausted. now that you know you have a bed and not an air mattress to sleep on, the idea of laying down is becoming more and more appealing. only problem with you grabbing so many things is now you can’t open the door on your own. thankfully, a guy who must live here too rushes over to hold it for you, nodding when you thank him for the help. he catches the elevator for you both before it closes, sticking his arm out so the doors won’t close in on you as you bring your things inside.

“what floor?” he asks, and you start to reply when you see your floor already selected.

“oh, you’ve got it already,” you tell him, and he nods. end of the conversation, it seems, until you get to the floor and start walking in the same direction. you slow down, waiting for him to maybe turn off at a different door, but, yep, he’s unlocking the door to joshua’s apartment. you stand in the hallway stunned for a moment before you go up and knock the door, not wanting to dig for the keys now that your hands are full. mystery man comes to the door, and you stutter out a greeting.

“don’t tell me you lost my keys already,” joshua calls from within the apartment, and the man, who must be seungcheol, looks between you both.

“you’re joshua’s sister?” he asks, and you nod. he steps aside, letting you in, as he says, “sorry, i didn’t realize. i’m seungcheol.”

“i pieced that together,” you smile. “nice to meet you. thanks for letting me stay here a while.”

“no problem,” he replies. “joshua didn’t really give us a choice anyway.”

“josh you said they were fine with me being here!” you whine, looking for your brother, who pops his head out of the kitchen with a smirk. 

“he’ll get used to it. you hungry, y/n?”

“starving.”

“cheol?”

“i can eat,” he shrugs, eyeing you carefully as you put your things down. josh didn’t say his sister was hot. well, that would be weird. he just didn’t say much about you other than you’re a couple years younger and in need of a place to crash, so the fact that cheol can’t take his eyes off of you is a bit conflicting for the man. he looks away before you can catch him staring, clearing his throat before he says, “um, i’m gonna go wash up.”

“oh, can you show me where the bathroom is?” you ask.

“uh, sure,” cheol says awkwardly, walking down the hall as you follow. he points to one door and says, “that’s joshua’s room, not sure if he said that already. your’s is back there,” he points to a door further down on the right, and then to the door behind you, “that’s your bathroom. you’ll share with your brother.”

“it’s like i’m a kid again,” you joke, and cheol smiles softly. “where’s your room?”

“what?” cheol sputters.

“well is there another bathroom? you said josh and i would share this one, i’m just curious,” you go on. “sorry if i’m prying.”

“no, yeah, um, i have the master suite since i found the place for us,” he explains. “the guys let me have it as a thanks for doing all the apartment hunting.”

“it’s a nice place,” you note, and he hums in agreement. 

“ok, well, um, i’m going,” he says, pointing to his room.

“right, right, sorry,” you say, waving him off. you step into the bathroom to rinse your face off, removing some of the sweat from your long day. you head back out into the kitchen to bother joshua and he looks up as you walk in.

“so how do you like the place?” he questions, and you tell him it’s nice. without looking at you he asks next, “and how do you like cheol?”

“he’s a little awkward, actually,” you reply. “you sure he’s cool with me staying here? i won’t be here long, if it bothers him.”

“he’ll be fine,” josh waves you off. “he may just be tired. looks like he was coming back from the gym so he’ll be better after his nap and a snack. he’s like a toddler.”

“noted,” you laugh. “you need help with anything?”

“nah, you can start unpacking your stuff,” josh says. “i’ll call you when the food’s ready.”

“joshua?”

“yeah?” he asks, turning to look at you. 

“thank you for letting me stay here. really.”

“anytime,” he smiles. “just remember we share a bathroom again, so no long ass showers.”

“way to ruin the moment,” you laugh. 

you end up going back to “your” room to change, putting some of your clothes away in mingyu’s empty dresser. he really must spend all his time at that girl’s place, you think. you take your toiletries into the bathroom, squatting in front of the sink so you can arrange them among joshua’s countless bottles. as you’re balancing and trying not to knock over something in an expensive glass bottle, cheol walks down the hallway in a tank top and sweats, water droplets still sticking to his chest. the sight of him booking it takes you by surprise, so you fall onto your ass and shake your head, clearing whatever strange thoughts the sight of a damp seungcheol were bringing to your mind. 

meanwhile, cheol joins joshua in the kitchen, opting to sit at the counter while josh finishes the noodles. he wants to say something about you, but isn’t sure how to bring it up without seeming weird. he also doesn’t have much time before you come out of your room, so cheol just goes for it.

“um, does y/n need help moving anything else, you think?” cheol offers, and josh looks over his shoulder nonchalantly.

“you can ask her,” he shrugs. “i’m tapped out for the night though, so i’m sure she is too.”

“ok,” cheol nods. he starts playing on his phone, not noticing you walking into the kitchen until joshua starts complaining about something.

“what, i can’t drink your water?” you whine back, frustrated that your brother won’t let you have one of the bottles in the fridge.

“because those aren’t mine!” joshua informs you. “they’re cheol’s, so at least as him before you take one.”

“seungcheol, can i please have one of your waters? i can get the next case if you want,” you say as you turn around, and it takes cheol a second to focus. you’re wearing an old concert t shirt (cheol is pretty sure he has that same one) and shorts that are barely there. cheol is distracted by the sight of your thighs on display and it takes his brain a second to catch up, so he nods before he really knows what he’s agreeing to.

“wait, what? you don’t have to buy more water,” he says, finally there. “have as much as you want. joshua’s just weird.”

“you’re telling me,” you say as you hop up onto the counter.

“i hate when you do that,” josh says, turning to you with his hand on his hip. 

“you know when you do that you look just like mom?”

“shut up.”

“you!” 

“oh my god!” cheol interjects with a laugh. “are you two going to bicker all the time?”

“no,” you say in unison. 

“most of the time though,” you add, and joshua scoffs.

“only when y/n annoys me.”

“am i gonna have to play referee for you two?” cheol asks. “my god.”

“sorry,” you apologize. “we’ll cut it out. right josh?”

“whatever,” he mumbles, pulling the pot from the stove. “y/n can you get a pot holder from that drawer under you and put it on the table for me?”

“yeah, hold on,” you say, moving with a quickness. “don’t burn yourself.”

“i’m being careful,” josh says softly, and cheol laughs to himself at how quickly you can go from bickering to caring for each other. you both join him at the counter, you struggling to get into the tall chair. 

“watch it shorty,” he teases, making you blush. 

“oh no, i can’t deal with both of you teasing me,” you scold. “so zip it. i’ve got little legs.”

“hm, it’s cute,” cheol says loud enough for you to hear but quiet enough that josh doesn’t catch it over the sound of shuffling bowls. he passes them out and starts serving you and cheol. “thanks man.”

“yeah thanks mom,” you joke, and josh mumbles an expletive before eating his food.

-

after eating, you and joshua were both so tired you just went to your rooms. cheol however stayed out in the kitchen, promising he would clean up. instead, he politely snoops through your things, trying to learn more about you through your boxes of junk. he doesn’t touch anything, just looks, so he doesn’t feel that bad about it. he takes note of the books laying on top of one box, jotting down the titles so he can try to find some of them later. he smiles when he sees a soccer jersey falling out of a duffel bag, and he’s about to break his no touching rule when he hears a loud, “HEY!” from the hallway. he jumps at the sound, bumping his elbow on one of the boxes and toppling books over. he whirls around to find you, clad in a baggy sleep shirt with tired eyes watching on in amusement.

“what the hell are you doing?” you question, and cheol tries to stammer out a response.

“i uh, i saw a bug,” he lies, and you nod. 

“hm, i thought josh would keep his house cleaner than that,” you judge. 

“i’m the pig in this relationship, it’s probably my fault,” cheol says as he follows you back into the kitchen. “couldn’t sleep?”

“no, i’m still hungry,” you grumble. “the noodles were my only meal today.”

“you need to eat more,” cheol scolds and you wave him off as you open the fridge.

“whose lunchable is this?” you ask over your shoulder.

“look at me,” cheol gestures. “do i look like i eat those?” you stare maybe a little longer and harder than you should, prompting cheol to ask, “find something else you like?”

“what? no,” you shake your head. “i should’ve known it was my brother’s. he lived off of these for a month when he was younger.”

“really?” cheol chuckles. “what was joshua like as a kid?”

“hm, angelic?” you say sarcastically, hopping back up on the counter like you were earlier. you start eating your lunchable as you keep talking. “he was the perfect one and i was the biter.”

“the biter?” 

“i bit so many kids i almost got kicked out of school,” you confirm. “sorry. don’t know why i just told you that. it’s embarrassing.”

“it’s okay,” cheol smiles. “you still like to bite people now?”

“only when provoked,” you say suspiciously. 

“i’ll remember that.”

“so you really don’t mind me staying here?” you ask with cracker crumbs on your lips. cheol finds that captivating, so he keeps his eyes on your lips as he responds.

“i really don’t mind,” he nods. “i’m just happy we could help. josh was worried about you for a while.”

“yeah, well, he never liked my roommates-”

“or the area you were in,” cheol says sternly. “he said it wasn’t safe.”

“oh it wasn’t,” you nod. “but it was cheap.”

“still, you need to be careful,” cheol tells you.

“didn’t know i was signing up for a bonus brother by staying here,” you tease.

“i’m not being a bonus brother, i’m simply a concerned citizen,” he says, hand over his heart. you fall silent while you finish eating, and cheol does his best to commit your form to memory. he wants you to be embedded in his eyelids when he lays down and closes his eyes tonight, and he only feels bad for a nanosecond that he feels this way about his friend’s baby sister. 

“ok, well, thank you for the company,” you say as you look for the trashcan. 

“under the sink,” cheol says, anticipating what you were looking for and keeping his eyes on you still. “all good?” he asks when you’ve thrown everything away, and you nod. “alright, well, good night.”

“night seungcheol,” you say with an awkward wave as you go back to your room. when you’re halfway down the hall you hear cheol call your name, so you turn to find his eyes smiling at you.

“call me cheol, i like that better.”

“oh, ok. night cheol,” you try again, and he happily nods. 

-

when you wake up the next morning, you hear someone in the kitchen and assume joshua must be up and about. you wrap a blanket around yourself, laughing at the fact that mingyu has a pink fuzzy blanket in his room. you make your way into the kitchen, ready to complain about how cold you were last night. 

“dude, are you rich or something? why’d you run the ac all-” you stop short, staring at cheol’s bare back. he looks back at you, hair ruffled, and has the audacity to smirk. “sorry. thought you were josh.”

“he’s still asleep,” cheol replies, and you consider just going back to your room to hide until you’re sure your brother is out here as a buffer. with his back to you still, he asks, “do you want eggs?”

“uh, sure?”

“are you?” cheol laughs, turning around to face you fully. you’re doing your best to keep your eyes on his face, but when he crosses his arms over that broad chest of his you falter. “i promise i won’t put anything weird in em.”

“that’s reassuring,” you say with a yawn, letting the blanket fall slightly as you cover your mouth. cheol sees your sleep shirt again, this time stretched out from your movements as you slept, and he wonders for a moment if it would look like that after he uses it to pull you closer and- “do you mind if i make coffee?”

“go for it,” cheol says, grateful for the distraction from where his mind was going. “machine’s over there.”

“thanks,” you mumble, half asleep still. you stand in front of the coffee maker for a moment, brain processing what you need to get first.

“you need me to find the instruction manual?” cheol asks, watching you the whole time you were standing there. 

“make your eggs cheol.”

you empty the coffee grounds that were still in the bucket, then take a fresh filter from the stack on the counter. you move around cheol to fill the pot with water, making sure there’s enough for you all to have a cup if you want. after pouring the water in, you notice you’re missing one crucial thing. you check the counter, nothing. you try the drawers below you, then the cabinets below those. still nothing. you move to the pantry and spend a moment frustratedly moving things around in search of coffee and you come up empty once again. as you turn around to look everywhere once again, you almost jump out of your skin seeing cheol so close, watching you with an amused look in his eyes.

“jesus, you scared me,” you gasp.

“i’ll wear a bell next time,” he jokes. “looking for something?”

“the coffee, where do you keep it? please don’t tell me you’re out,” you whine, and cheol just smiles. 

“you can find it on your own, i believe in you.”

“what? no, tell me.”

“and why should i do that?” cheol asks seriously. 

“i don’t know, because i’m cute?” you joke. 

“yeah, you are,” cheol says, holding your gaze, quirking an eyebrow to challenge you. you swear you would deck him if he wasn’t so handsome. you whirl around to look in the pantry again before you hear cheol’s deep voice just barely say “colder.”

you look at him suspiciously, and he’s back to cooking the eggs. he’s keeping one eye on you though, sneaking looks at you and trying not to smile at how ridiculously cute you are being so frustrated over this. he prompts you with a few more “cold”/”colder” clues before you whine in exasperation.

“but i already checked over here,” you complain, back in front of the machine. “i’ll just go get coffee, forget this-” 

you reach out to turn the coffee maker off, and cheol mumbles “warmer.” your ears perk up, so you move your hand around the counter to get a clue. finally you lift your hand toward the cabinet above the coffee maker, and cheol says you’re getting warmer. 

“hot,” he says as you finally open the cabinet, “hotter, hotter than you are, hottest, you’re on fire! be careful!” he continues, even though you’ve found the coffee and you can now finish the pot you were making. “well that took a while.”

“because someone was being childish,” you chastise him, and cheol smiles like he just won the lottery.

“but it was fun!”

-

“why didn’t you like that place?” joshua asks as you leave another perfectly fine apartment. 

“there’s no dog park,” you reply, and your brother groans. loudly.

“you don’t even HAVE a dog,” he complains.

“but i want one! i can’t have a dog if there’s no where for it to go!”

 “come on y/n, that place was nice!” joshua tries hyping it up for you. “there was so much space, way too many closets which is good for you and all your junk, and that view was amazing.”

“the view was really nice,” you concede, and josh bumps shoulders with you as you keep walking toward his apartment.

“plus it’s walking distance from me,” he smiles. “so you can bother me whenever you want.”

“that is a plus.”

“and it means you’re close to cheol too...”

“what?” you stop and look at him, and he laughs.

“i’m just saying. it’d be easy for you to visit. doesn’t matter who you’re visiting.”

ignoring joshua’s insinuations, you go back to discussing the apartment you just saw. if you wanted to apply you needed to move fast, but you were nervous. joshua listened intently as you aired all your worries, and like the good big brother he is he calmly countered each ridiculous thought with logic and only a few jokes. by the time you were walking down his hallway, you were convinced that you’d found your apartment. you grab your laptop from mingyu’s room and start working on the application, joshua peering over your shoulder every once in a while to help you decipher what it’s asking for. you’re thankful for the help, and you turn to ask him another question and almost jump out of your skin.

“jesus, make some noise next time,” you gasp, seeing shirtless cheol behind you again. he was leaning over the couch, close enough that his chin could almost lean on your shoulder. 

“whatcha doin?” he asks with a cheshire cat-like grin.

“applying for an apartment,” you inform him, and you’re not sure but you think his face falls just slightly. “do you ever wear shirts at home?”

“why, is that a problem for you?” he asks. you feel like a goldfish, closing and opening your mouth like an idiot trying to decide how to respond.

“y/n?” joshua laughs as he comes back from the bathroom to see you mooning over his roommate. “you good?”

“i’m being heckled,” you finally reply, and cheol laughs. 

“i asked if she needed help, sorry if that’s heckling now,” he says as he moves away from the couch.

“it is when your tits are out,” you grumble, scrolling back to the page you were working on. cheol made you mess up, but don’t tell him that.

“not like you haven’t seen them before, sweets!” cheol teases, and joshua looks between you both in amusement.

“you’ve been staring at his tits, y/n?” 

“no, he just never has clothes on apparently,” you defend yourself. “he was shirtless this morning when we had breakfast too.”

“you had breakfast together?” joshua asks, looking to just cheol now. he had told josh he slept in today and that you must have made the mess in the kitchen. why didn’t he say he ate with you?

“we were in the same room when we ate, yeah,” cheol nods. joshua leaves it at that, mostly because you start whining about something you don’t understand on your application. he rejoins you at the couch and cheol goes to his room, silently cursing himself for letting josh catch him so easily. he didn’t want your brother knowing he was catching feelings, so he’ll have to play it cool from now on. 

-

speaking of being cool, the boys keep this apartment too cold. after your first freezing night, you wore more clothes to bed thinking that would keep you warm. unfortunately, you don’t know where your hoodies are, so you had to make do. so when you wake up in the middle of the night shivering, you stomp out of your room to go bang on your brother’s door. just as you’re raising your fist to bang on his door, you hear cheol’s open down the hallway.

“you again?” you groan, not missing the fact that cheol still isn’t wearing a shirt. “how are you not freezing?”

“i am,” he replies, and you fall silent. “i was getting up to change the thermostat.” 

“oh.”

“and you were..?”

“gonna complain about it to my brother?” you say sheepishly, making cheol laugh.

“joshua is the one that keeps it so cold, he would just tell you to go back to bed,” he tells you as he walks toward the thermostat. “you know you technically live here. you can adjust this if you want.”

“i know,” you nod, watching cheol move it to an acceptable temperature. 

“so why didn’t you?” he asks.

“i uh, didn’t think about it.”

“no?”

“that, and i don’t...know..how to use it...” you mumble, hoping cheol drops it.

“you don’t know how to use a thermostat?” he teases with that perpetual smirk he seems to always wear around you.

“no, and at this point in my life i think it’s too late to learn,” you say. “thank you for fixing it tonight, hopefully i won’t wake up frozen in the morning.”

you try to turn and head back to bed, but cheol grabs you by the back of your shirt and pulls you toward his warm chest. he places an arm around you lightly, turning you so you’re staring at the thermostat, trying very hard to ignore cheol’s direct stare as he speaks again.

“it’s easy sweets, just push this notch,” he demonstrates, “then push the up and down buttons to change the temperature. this is good for when you want it to be cool, but if you want to clean out my wallet you can keep it a couple degrees cooler.” he finishes and turns his head back toward you again, and you notice just how close he is. you’re afraid of moving, of speaking, but cheol takes care of that for you. “any questions?”

“yeah, can you move your arm?” you whisper. 

“no,” he whispers back. “why are you whispering?”

“because i’m scared?” cheol looks at you confused. “i’m afraid you’re gonna put me in a headlock.”

“you want me to?” he laughs, finally stepping back to give you some space. “do you need extra blankets or anything?”

“ah, no,” you reply. “i wanted to find my box of hoodies but i have no idea where it is, so the blankets in mingyu’s room will be fine.”

“you need a hoodie?” cheol asks, and without giving you a chance to respond he disappears into his room. he comes out with a mound of blue fabric in his hands before pushing it into your arms. “use this.”

“no, i can’t-”

“take it,” he says firmly. “or i’ll be forced to keep you warm myself.” at the sound of that threat, you hastily pull the hoodie on before thanking cheol and ducking back into your room for the night. he stands out in the hallway, smiling to himself.

-

you’re busy for a few days after that, finally settled at your brother’s place and able to focus back on work and finding back up apartments if the other place falls through. you’re not home much, and by the end of the week joshua sits you down to convince you that you need to go out. 

“josh, i’ve had such a long week,” you start to justify. “i don’t wanna go out this weekend. i’m afraid i’d fall asleep at the club.”

“no, no, i didn’t mean anything like that,” he clarifies. “i think you need to go on a date.”

“why?” you ask, a little shocked. joshua never cared about your love life, mostly just judging from afar (and sometimes not so afar). you tend to keep that part of your life private anyway, so it’s not like you let joshua be a part of it outside of obligatory meet the partner nights with your family.

“i don’t know,” he shrugs, “i just think you’d enjoy it. i actually have this friend-”

“oh god, please don’t do this-” you start to complain, afraid josh is about to set you up with cheol.

“no, no, hear me out,” josh continues. “he’s your age, he’s sweet, he’s cute i guess, and i think you’d really like him.”

“so i’m guessing you have all of this planned?” you ask, and joshua smiles.

“be ready tomorrow at 8. he’s picking you up, and i’ll be at jeonghan’s if you want to bring him back-”

“don’t say that please,” you request, holding your hand up. “i’ll go on the date but i don’t wanna hear my brother insinuate i’m gonna have sex at his apartment.”

“i didn’t say anything, you’re the one that insinuated,” joshua laughs as he gets up, passing behind you and kissing the top of your head as he goes to his room. “you’re gonna have a great time, sis.”

-

despite not wanting to go on this date, you were nervous. you don’t want to make a fool of yourself in front of this guy, because he’s friends with your brother and anything embarrassing will be brought to joshua and used to ridicule you for the rest of your life. you also don’t wanna write this guy off before you meet him, because he could be nice. maybe.

that fire is quickly put out when you actually meet the guy. his name is chan, but he claims josh and all their friends call him dino. you wanted to ask why, but you were afraid of the answer. you just smiled politely and tried to lock up quickly, hoping that the faster you move the quicker this date will be over. 

at the sound of the front door closing, cheol is stirred from his nap. he didn’t have any big plans, but he had gone to the gym earlier and exhausted himself so he thought he deserved some rest. he assumed the door sound meant you or joshua was home, but after checking he realized it was just him. he wonders for a moment if he should check on you, but he decides against it. instead he takes a shower and starts working on dinner, choosing a chill night to rest since he has the place to himself. 

meanwhile, your date is going horribly. first of all, chan was super awkward walking with you to his car, and then he didn’t speak much on the ride to dinner. oh, well, he did, except that was only his road rage coming out. you heard this man say more cuss words in a fifteen minute car ride than you’ve heard from anyone else all year. he’s said fuck more times than he’s said your name, and quite frankly you’re not confident he knows what it is. 

once you get to the restaurant, chan basically leaves you in the car. you’re not a damsel in distress, you don’t need a man to open your door for you, but it would be nice if the man you’re on a date with would at least wait until you’re out of the car to head toward the restaurant. you make it to the curb and don’t know where chan has gone until he pops out of the restaurant asking an annoyed, “you coming?”

once you’re seated, things don’t get much better. the waitress is pretty, and she’s obviously more interested in chan than you are. you’ve given up on the date by this point, but you think you can get a free meal out of it, so you keep suffering. when he’s not flirting with the waitress, chan is mansplaining to you and gesturing so wildly you’re afraid he’s going to knock everything off the table. he tries asking you questions but keeps talking over you, and when he does let you speak he either looks offended or checks his phone. before your appetizers come, you’re ready to leave.

“what did i do to deserve this?” you text joshua as you half listen to chan describe the most boring thing in the most cocky way possible. you hope joshua will respond, but there’s nothing. 

“are you mad at me? is that why you tricked me into going on the worst date of my life?” you text again, and still no response. 

“hey, that’s kind of rude,” chan says, and you can feel your blood start to boil.

“weren’t you on your phone when i was talking earlier?” you ask in disbelief, and he shakes his head. 

“no, i wasn’t. because that’s rude,” he repeats. you want to groan and slam your head on the table, but you refrain. “whatever. i’m going to the restroom, text away.”

that you do. you keep texting joshua, trying to annoy him into responding, but he stands tall. whatever he’s doing is more important that your horrible night. you have an infinite list in your mind of things that you would rather be doing right now, so you understand josh’s disinterest.

speaking of disinterest, you look up to find chan and see him leaned over the bar talking to another waitress. this time she’s way into it, hand on his arm and phone out to take down his number. you watch as he types it in, then pull out a barstool and take a seat. now you do groan, and without leaving the table you call your brother, ready to beg for a ride back home. 

“come on, pick up, pick up please,” you mumble, hoping beyond hope that joshua will be your knight in shining armor. you get his voicemail and leave behind some choice words before slamming your phone down on the table, frustrated tears threatening to fall. you’re still new to this part of town, so your brother is your only lifeline right now. you don’t trust your ability to walk home without getting snatched, and you know that calling any of your friends would mean sitting here for at least an hour while they come get you. you’re about to go hide in the bathroom when you think of one other option.

seungcheol.

you don’t know where he is or what he’s doing tonight, but you find the “temporary roomies” chat that josh put you into and call cheol from there. you start the same plea, whispering pick up over and over, but cheol answers on the second ring.

“hey sweets,” you can tell he’s smiling. “what’s going on, you and josh having fun without me?”

“cheol, hi, listen,” you start, “josh set me up on a blind date and the guy is a dick and-”

“what did he do?” cheol cuts you off, and you tell him about the car ride, the attitude, and now his interest in any woman that’s not you. “fuck him. fuck your brother too. where are you? i’m on my way.”

“cheol, no, i was mostly calling to see if josh was home-”

“send me the address, y/n,” he says firmly. “i’ll be there soon.”

he wasn’t lying. it feels like only a few minutes have passed when there’s a commotion at the door and you see cheol stalking through the restaurant looking for you. you gather your things and stand, and chan sees you out of the corner of his eye. he comes rushing over just as cheol reaches you, and it’s almost comical watching this stare down as chan gets closer.

“come on, we’re leaving,” cheol tells you, pushing a helmet into your hands.

“what is this?” you ask, eyeing chan awkwardly. 

“hey, pal, we’re on a date, so she’s not going anywhere,” chan tells cheol, and he laughs in his face. 

“sorry, pal, date’s over,” he says, pushing chan back lightly. “go back to the waitress. we’re done here.” cheol doesn’t wait to hear what other bullshit chan might try to say. instead he grabs you by the wrist and guides you out of the restaurant to a motorcycle propped up outside. he looks at you smoothly and motions to the helmet. “i said put that on, doll. can’t ride without protection.”

“o-ok,” you stutter, placing the helmet over your head delicately. cheol stops you and turns you toward him, clicking the helmet into place under your chin, feeling his fingers on your neck sends a tingle down your spine, and you do your best to ignore it. 

“there you go,” he whispers, satisfied with his work. he grabs your head in both hands and playfully shakes you from side to side, smirking as he says, “quick road test, sorry.”

“cheol, you’re crazy,” you laugh, thankful for the distraction. “i didn’t know you drove a bike. this is cool.”

“glad you like it,” he says as he hops on. “now come on, let’s go home before i go beat that loser up.” 

you carefully and tentatively hold onto cheol’s shoulder as you sling your leg over the seat, sliding down accidentally so your chest is pressed firmly to his back. you grab onto his other shoulder and wait, thinking cheol will leave any second. 

“can’t hold on like that,” he seems to whisper, looking at you over his shoulder. “you’ll fall off.”

“well i don’t wanna bother you-”

“please,” you hear him scoff, and then he’s pulling your arms down to his waist. he even takes the liberty of lacing your hands together over his stomach so it’s easier for you to hold on. and suddenly you feel very warm. you can feel the outline of his muscles through his shirt, and being so close to him is getting you drunk off of whatever shampoo or cologne he’s wearing. 

“cheol,” you say before he kicks off, and he’s looking back at you again. “i’m sorry about this. thank you for coming to get me.”

“anytime,” he says sweetly, his eyes flicking to your lips briefly. “now hold on tight.”

before you know it, cheol is kicking off and zooming down the near empty street, ripping a scream of surprise and joy out of you. you thought you’d be petrified right now, but this is actually exhilarating. you’re not sure if it’s the adrenaline of the motorcycle ride or the proximity to cheol, but you almost feel lightheaded. you’re shrieking and laughing like this is a rollercoaster, and there’s a smile plastered on cheol’s face as he listens. 

when you get to a red light, cheol slows down and instructs you to keep your feet up as he places his firmly on the ground. he looks back at you as best he can and asks, “having fun?”

“this is incredible,” you smile. “do an extra lap. i don’t wanna go home yet.”

“yeah?” cheol asks happily, and you nod.

“wait, unless you had plans!” you say. “oh my god, cheol, i’m so sorry, i didn’t even consider that you might have been busy, oh god. i should’ve asked, i should’ve-”

“stop talking,” he tells you. “i’m glad you called. i’d do this for you every day of the week if you needed it.”

“thank you,” you say meekly as cheol revs the bike before carefully driving again. you ride and listen to the sound of the city get whipped by around you, watching the lights and realizing how much you’re enjoying yourself. you lay your chin on cheol’s shoulder and think about the butterflies in your stomach, noticing that they’re going more wild now than they ever have before. 

when you get back to the apartment, you’re immediately met with the smell of food. you’re about to cuss joshua out, assuming he had been home this whole time, until cheol walks ahead of you into the kitchen and asks, “did you get to eat on this horrible mistake i just saved you from?”

“hey, whoa, i was doing this because of my brother,” you say defensively. “it wasn’t my mistake, i was bamboozled.”

“you could’ve said no,” cheol shrugs as he leans against the doorway. then he holds your gaze and asks, “why didn’t you say no?”

“i-i don’t know,” you reply, turning away because cheol’s stare is too heavy for your right now. “i guess, yeah, i did it because i thought it would make josh happy since he set it up, but...i don’t know. it would be nice to have someone, i guess.”

“to have someone?” cheol smirks, taking a step or two closer to you.

“yeah, like have someone be mine,” you say shyly, looking up to find cheol closer than you expected. he stands in front of you, smirk hanging off his lips, arms loosely crossed over his broad chest. 

“you have me,” he says, moving so close to you that you can feel his breath on your lips. he holds your gaze, waiting for you to make a move. awkwardly, you lean in, lips almost brushing. you get nervous and try to back away but cheol quickly grabs you by the chin and whispers, “and i’ve got you” before connecting your lips. your hands fall to his chest, obliviously rubbing your hands over his muscles. his touch to your chin stays gentle but firm, holding you in place so he can devour your lips. you’re breathless quick, but you don’t want to pull away. the sound of keys in the front door scare you out of your daze, and you separate from cheol like you’ve been shocked. joshua walks in, unaware (or is he?) of what he just interrupted. pleased with himself, he looks from you to cheol and back to you before asking, “so...how was your night?”

-

you’ve been avoiding cheol. you can’t believe you kissed him, and you can’t believe you liked it. you liked it so much that you’re afraid of what might happen if you’re around him again, because nothing can happen. he’s your brother’s best friend! it’s like reverse bro code to date your brother’s friend. that would be...weird? and yet here you are, daydreaming about it. 

cheol knows what you’re doing. he knows you’ve been spooked, and he’s annoyed. now that he’s had a taste of you he only wants more, so you hiding from him when he’s out of his room or only leaving yours when he’s in the shower or asleep is really getting on his nerves. you can’t avoid him forever, but damn it if you’re not gonna try. 

you’re currently speedrunning all of your chores, trying to clean the bathroom while your laundry is on and in between you’re washing all of your dirty dishes. you’re doing this because you know cheol will come out of his room soon to go to the gym, so you’re hoping to be tucked away safely in your room before that happens. however, the biggest man in the apartment still manages to move like a mouse, so you turn around to put some plates away and find cheol leaning against the kitchen counter, watching you intently. 

“fuck you, stop sneaking up on me!” you shriek. “i’m serious about that bell now. wear loud shoes or something, god.”

“why, so you can hear me coming and hide?” he asks seriously, and you fall silent. you join him on the other side of the room, stretching to put the plates in the cabinet. cheol keeps watching, realizing this is the first time he’s seen you show so much skin. shorts pulled up just barely over your ass, like usual, driving him insane, like usual. but now you’re just wearing a sports bra on top, and cheol doesn’t miss the way you’re giving him the perfect view of your chest. he’s unapologetically staring, and without facing him you mumble telling him to stop. “i can stare if i want.”

“well can you stop, please?” you beg, turning and crossing your arms over your chest, just pressing your cleavage up more. 

“baby, work with me here,” he groans. “you can’t kiss me like that the other night and then hide from me. and you can’t look like that and not expect me to stare.”

“stop telling me what i can and can’t do,” you grumble, trying to remember what you were about to do. you start to walk away but cheol grabs you lightly by the wrist, and you ask nicely, “let me go.”

“you can leave,” cheol encourages. “i’m not holding on tight.”

but you stay right where you are, a few steps away from cheol. his hand slides down from your wrist to lace his fingers with yours. he squeezes your hand sweetly before tugging you back in front of him, a stupid smirk gracing his handsome face. 

“hi beautiful,” he smiles, making you blush. “so tell me. am i a bad kisser or something?”

“what?” you ask, shocked he would even think that. “n-no, why?”

“well,” he sighs, hands sliding around your waist too quick for you to object, “it’s just that we kissed, and i thought it was pretty sexy, and then you just disappeared on me. which is amazing considering we live together right now.”

“i’m good at teleporting,” you joke, and cheol pinches your hip. 

“answer me, y/n,” he tries again. “why are you hiding?”

“because you’re joshua’s friend,” you say with a face. “i can’t date you.”

“who said anything about dating?” cheol smiles. “we’ve got two beds, sweets. take your pick.”

“you can’t be serious.”

“you don’t want to?” cheol asks, seemingly dragging you closer to himself. he slots his leg between yours, leans in close and asks, “so if i check your panties right now, they wouldn’t be wet?”

“cheol, i-”

“hm?” he asks, pulling back enough to look right in your eyes. “you don’t want this, just say the word and i’m gone. but if you do, baby, please let me do this.”

“joshua can’t know,” you whisper fast before you’re grabbing cheol and kissing him again. his hands slide from their spot on your waist to cup your ass, nudging your core over his thigh. you whimper at the slight drag, and cheol tenses his thigh as he brings your hips forward again. 

“i don’t even need to put my hand down your pants to know you’re wet,” he says proudly. “you ok with soaking my thigh a little bit first, baby?” you nod, and he tsks. “you need to use your words. not gonna do anything unless i know you want it.”

“let me keep going,” you say breathlessly, and cheol easily obliges. he dives back into your lips, hands gripping your ass to keep you grinding over his thigh. you get lost in the pressure between your legs, but you don’t want to be interrupted like you were last time. you try to break from cheol’s lips but he brings a hand up to keep you in place, doing his best to memorize the shape of your lips with his. you realize you need to get his attention a different way, so you reach down to cup his cock through his shorts. he hisses at the contact, lips pulled from yours. “cheol, stop.”

“what, what’s wrong?” he asks, worried. 

“let’s go to my room,” you say with a nod, and his eyes shimmer with lust and a bit of glee. he’s dragging you down the hallway with him, doing his best not to tear your clothes off and leave a trail. once he’s in your room, you push him back lightly so you can be sure to shut the door. cheol takes this time to lay back on your pillows, patting his thigh to invite you back. you join him on the bed, ready to straddle him and go back to grinding down on his stupidly thick thigh, but he stops you. 

“shorts off,” he instructs, and you pull them off eagerly. “let me see your panties.” your legs on either side of his, you sit up and lean back, hoping cheol gets what he wants. he hums and nods when he sees the wet patch, grabbing for your waist to pull you back over his leg. “let’s get you warmed up a little more, need you ready to ride me soon.”

cheol brings your core back down to his thigh, guiding your movements as you whine on top of him. you’re not sure what to do with your hands, so you let one of them wander up to push your bra over your chest, playing with your nipple as cheol guides you agonizingly slow. you try to bounce and get more friction but that makes him hold you down tighter and your whines get louder. 

“that’s it baby, show me how pretty you are when you come and then i’ll give you my cock,” he growls out, a hand slipping down to push past the waistband of your panties. he swipes a finger down to play with your clit and he moans when he feels how wet you are. “all this for me, pretty girl?”

“yes, for you, just like that,” you moan, “make me come please, need to come.”

“you can come,” cheol coaxes. “just waiting on you.” he applies a little more pressure over your clit, and then you’re shaking above him, a soundless gasp left on your lips. as you try to blink away the spots in your eyes, you hurriedly help cheol get undressed, crawling down to his cock before he can stop you. you pull his boxers down as he takes his shirt off, and you gasp when you see his size. you grab him by the base and take a taste, kitten licking his tip and driving him crazy. he wants to wrap his hands in your hair and guide you over his cock, but an equal part wants to pull you up just so he can feel your pussy clenching around him. he lets you decide the pace though, hissing through his teeth as you keep licking him, until you’re ready to swallow his cock little by little. you get halfway down before you need to pull back, and you’re worried he won’t fit. 

“not to feed your ego or anything,” you say after popping off of his cock, “but you’re really big.”

“no that definitely feeds my ego.”

“i don’t think you’re gonna fit,” you say, worried. 

“well get in my lap and we’ll find out, sweets,” he says, reaching for you to help you up and over his legs again. he holds his cock still for you as you line him up with your entrance, and you glance at him one last time, still concerned. “take it slow. i know you can do it.”

“but-”

“baby, i’m letting you pick the pace,” he laughs. “if it were up to me i would’ve slammed you down on my cock already.”

“hmm someone’s horny,” you joke, and cheol thrusts up in retaliation. you gasp at the feeling of his tip at your entrance, and you do what he says. you take it slow, holding your breath as you feel him stretch you out with every inch. 

“how you feeling baby?”

“good,” you gasp out.

“make sure you breathe,” cheol reminds you, and you nod as you take a few deep breaths. he can feel every movement on his cock, and it’s driving him insane to not be fully inside you right now. he tries to push you down a little further, but you cry out and he stops. he gives you a moment to adjust, and you move on your own when you’re ready. you keep pushing down, taking more and more. “you’re doing so good baby.”

“it’s too big,” you gasp out, looking down to see how much you have left to go.

“no it’s not.”

“but it is,” you whine, trying to pull up completely. that’s the last straw for cheol though, because he grips your hips and slams you down over his cock, your clit even grinding over his pubic bone slightly. you shudder at the feeling, shocked speechless at the feeling of cheol’s cock so deep inside you. he helps you ride him at first, but you take over and start a steady pace. you don’t think you’ve ever felt someone this deep before, and your body feels like it’s on fire. 

“you can take it, that’s it,” he encourages, and you pick up the pace. cheol starts meeting you halfway, adjusting so he can hit your core just right. when he thrusts up and you almost fall over on top of him he knows he’s found the right spot, doing his best to keep his pace steady. he pulls you down so you’re caging him in, and he lays your head on his chest as he takes over, thrusting into you so fast you start seeing stars. you’re moaning into his chest, maybe drooling a little too, and it’s driving him insane. you feel so good around him, so warm, so tight, so wet. the sounds of your pussy are embarrassing to you and intoxicating to him, he wishes he had the patience to lay between your legs and lick you clean before fucking you again. but he’ll save that for later. for now, he needs to find a place to come. “where do you want me?”

“stomach,” you mumble into his chest, sitting back up with your hands on his pecs. “gonna come?”

“if you come first, yeah,” cheol nods. he focuses on bringing you closer, grabbing one of your hands off his chest and guiding it to your lips. you open, and he tells you to suck. after you’ve wet your middle and ring finger, cheol brings them down to your clit, leading your movements and applying pressure as he wants. it’s so sexy, letting him lead you like this, and the way he’s staring at you is making your chest tingle, and his cock is still buried deep inside you as you start getting closer. when cheol pulls you down with his free hand, connecting your lips again, you start to come, whimpering into his mouth as the waves crash over you. he works you through it, giving you only a second or two to rest before he’s pumping you again, chasing his own release. he pulls out and immediately starts stroking his cock, coming with a quiet gasp. you shudder as you feel his come land across your stomach, some even hitting your pussy lips. you lean back to let him see his masterpiece, and cheol looks pleased. 

“let me get a washcloth,” you mumble, moving to get up. once you’re off of him, cheol springs into action, guiding you to lay back down. 

“no, you’ll be sore soon, let me do it,” he says before ducking out of your room. he comes back with a wet washcloth and waters for you both, which you take graciously. he cleans you up carefully, and then he joins you back on the bed. the last thing you remember before falling asleep is cheol pushing your hair back, smiling at you softly.

-

you wake up the next morning to a knock at your door, followed by another louder knock.

“what?” you groan, rolling over to face the door just as joshua pops in. 

“morning to you too,” he yawns. “i’m getting breakfast. text me what you want.”

“mhm,” you yawn in reply. “close my door.”

josh leaves without doing what you asked, and there’s a beat of silence before you hear the front door close. you feel hands wrap around your waist, pulling you into a strong, warm, bare chest. cheol pops his chin onto your shoulder, cheesing as he asks, “you think he knew i was here?”

[thehistoriccemetery]

would love if you could do prompt 1! especially if tav is being a hard ass and trying to keep pushing themselves hehe :3

Companions with an Exhausted Tav

Three posts in one week?? I’m truly on a roll. (Nah I was sick this week so I was off work for two days.)

Anyway here’s Shadowheart, Lae’zel, Karlach, Minthara, and Jaheira with a very sleepy (and stubborn) reader.

Shadowheart

You usually go to bed quite a bit later than Shadowheart, but luckily she’s never awake to realize just how late you’re staying up.

Until one night you push your luck a little too far. By the time you climb into bed next to her she pops her head up and notices the sun is already starting to rise.

“Love, have you been up all night?” She asks. You decline to answer, and luckily she’s too sleepy to push the matter, for now. You both fall back asleep.

You’re livid when you wake up to the noon sun and find the adventuring party had already left for the day. Without you.

You find Shadowheart polishing her spear, as she decided to stay back today as well.

You approach her, but she doesn’t even look up at you. “Good afternoon sleepyhead.”

“What the hell were you thinking not waking me up this morning?” you say, clearly aggravated.

She props the spear up next to her. “I did” she says, finally looking up at you. “If you’re too tired to get up the first time I wake you, you’re too tired to go adventuring. Now go lay back down. You clearly need a nap.”

You soften, immediately realizing your mistake. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m just…”

“Tired,” she finishes for you. “I know, love. Seriously, go back to bed. You’re so grumpy when you’re tired.”

“I’m not grumpy!” You protest. She morphs her face into an over exaggerated pout, and repeats your words in a mocking tone.

You can’t help yourself, so you laugh. “Whatever. I’ll go back to bed.”

Lae’zel

You wake up in a panic as you’re being roughly dragged across the ground by your ankles.

You flail and struggle against your captors strong hand, but you can’t get loose.

“Tskva! Stop doing that!” Lae’zel shouts. It’s only then you realize who your “captor” really is.

“Lae’zel?” You ask, confused. “What are you doing? Why are you dragging me across the- ow!” You shout as you’re dragged over a rock.

“Seems this is the only way to get you to bed,” she responds, unfazed by your outburst.

She only stops dragging you once you’re in your bed. You immediately sit up and try to escape.

She catches you and pushes you back down. “Lae’zeeel,” you groan exaggeratedly. “I was doing something important.”

“If it is important than you should be able to keep your eyes open while doing it,” she retorts.

Well fuck. She has you there. You have been having trouble focusing for the last couple hours. Maybe it is best if you just go to sleep.

You’re surprised when Lae’zel crawls into your bed beside you. She doesn’t usually stay the night. “What are you doing?” You ask.

“Sleeping. Just like you should be,” she answers. You sigh, thinking of all the crafty ways you could sneak past her once she goes to sleep.

She interrupts your thoughts with a “and if you think you’re sneaking out, you’ve got another thing coming.”

Karlach

You’re passed out over a desk when Karlach gets up for a little midnight snack.

“Oh love,” she sighs. It must be four in the morning. How long have you been up?

You wake up slightly and mumble something indecipherable. You can hardly lift your head up off the desk.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” she whispers, throwing your arms over her shoulders and picking you up.

You unconsciously nuzzle her neck and let out a soft “mmm” at the familiar scent of your lover.

She lays you down on her own bed, trying to keep you upright for long enough to get you out of your armor.

She tries to be quiet, not only to disturb you as little as possible, but also to not wake up the entire camp.

When you’re finally out of your armor, she realizes she can’t find your camp clothes. Eventually, she settles on giving you one of her shirts that’s way too big for you.

You smile and mumble something that may or may not have been a “thank you.”

She finally lays your head against the pillow and you snuggle into the soft sheets and warm shirt.

She crawls cautiously into bed next to you, trying not to wake you up.

She can’t quite tell if you’re awake or not when you climb up on her chest and mumble “mmm warm.”

Minthara

The thing about Minthara is she’s not going to argue with you about taking care of yourself.

You can eat when you’re hungry, sleep when you’re tired, and piss and when you need to piss because you’re an adult and you can take care yourself.

So when she catches you burning the midnight oil for the third night in a row she’s angry. Like more angry than you’d expected.

“Hold on, Minthara,” you say, knowing she about to make you go to bed. “I just need to finish th-“

“No.” You’re interrupted abruptly. “You’re going to bed and I’m not going to catch you out here like this again.”

“Minthara, there’s things that have to done-“

“They can wait till morning,” she interrupts again, trying to stay calm even as you’re testing her patience.

“Just let me-“

“You have to take care of yourself, Tav!” She shouts, finally loosing her temper. “This isn’t an endurance test, this is your life: the one you have chosen to share with me. And I will not have you squander it out here, night after night, robbing yourself of sleep.”

You sigh, taking her hand and pulling yourself to your feet. You don’t even realize how tired you are until you’re swaying trying to keep upright.

She picks you up unexpectedly. You would have never taken Minthara for the type to carry you to bed. She’s never carried you to bed before.

Still, you accept the rare affection and wrap your legs around her waist while your arms and head rest on her shoulder.

She gently lays you down on your bed and pushes your hair off your forehead before giving it a kiss.

She really does love you, and she’s doing her best here. You just gotta take care of yourself, okay?

Jaheira

“Am I going to have to set a bedtime for you like I do the children?” She half teases, surprising you as she approaches your half asleep body.

You groan as if she just woke you from deep sleep. “I’m awake, sorry what time is it.”

Jaheira smirks and bends down so she’s close to your face. “Well past your bedtime,” she teases before giving you a short kiss.

“But I haven’t finished-“

“You’re done,” she interrupts matter of factly. Clearly this isn’t up for debate.

You groan again and mumble “fine,” reaching your arms up for her to carry you to bed.

She laughs, grabbing you by the waist and throwing you over her shoulder. If you’re going to insist on her carrying you, you’re going to deal with her doing it like this.

She’s gentle when she lays you against the bed, crawling in next to you and wrapping her arms around you.

“Wait, so if it’s so late why are you up?” You ask.

She chuckles. “Don’t worry about it,” she answers before kissing you behind the ear and falling asleep.

[gahyunszn]

can you write ningningxfemreader where ningning got jealous because y/n is oblivious 🥺

idiot

genre : fluff

warning(s) : none

note : this is soooo rushed and just poorly written bc i actually had no idea what to write???

you’ve always been oblivious and you’ve been told that many, MANY times, but you can’t help but automatically think that everyone’s just being nice to you!!

it was a nice and sunny day, but it was quite hot, maybe agreeing to spending a majority of the day outside with the girls wasn’t the best idea.

you groaned as you laid out a blanket on the grass in a somewhat shaded area in the park. karina followed behind you with the basket filled with snacks, then giselle with a drink cooler, winter with some ice cream bars that you had all bought before arriving to the park, and ningning who was basically in charge of holding the different cameras brought along for aesthetic memory making.

everyone set their things down before sitting next to you on the blanket, watching as you dramatically ranted about the hot weather.

“not our fault you decided to agree to this outing.” karina said, tapping winter on the arm to hand over her ice cream bar.

“but it technically is your fault,” you retorted, sitting up just to dramatically drape yourself over karina. “you made it seem more fun than it actually is.”

you pouted, gaining ningnings attention because she just found it cute how dramatic you got when it came to hot weather. it’s almost as if you were gonna melt at any second due to the heat.

ningning grabbed one of the disposable cameras and snapped a picture of you, the flash bringing you out of your dramatic state and putting you into a playful one.

“hey, we need to use those films sparingly! do you know how much film costs.” bringing yourself closer to ningning, your foreheads practically touching.

“i’m aware, but i needed to capture that cute moment.” ningning smugly smiled, putting the disposable down, watching as everyone’s face turned into a more disgusted one.

“get a room you two.” giselle said, making a fake gagging noise which earned a laugh from winter. ningnings face turned a slight pink while you sat on your heels, trying your best to also not laugh along with winter.

time passed and you all were making good memories, everyone had taken at least a couple pictures with the different cameras, making sure to not miss a single moment you all shared.

“aw man, we finished all our snacks, maybe we should go back home.” winter said, sighing as she looking into the basket in search of any hidden snacks.

“maybe, but at least there’s air conditioning inside!” you said enthusiastically, getting up from your spot on the blanket and helping everyone else up. you all cleaned up before folding the blanket up and taking a path that lead to the exit of the park, but as you all were walking, someone had come up to you to start up some light conversation.

ningning turned around when she didn’t feel you clinging to her arm anymore and when she saw two men talking to you, she felt anger bubble up inside of her.

“you guys go ahead, i’ll meet you guys back at home.” ningning quickly said before speed walking to you.

“so we were just wondering if we could get your number? we saw you from across-” one of the dudes said before he was cut off by ningning who clinged to your arm, giving them both a stare they’ll never forget.

“sorry to interrupt, but we have things we need to do today.” she said before dragging you away from the two men. you waved goodbye before looking at ningning as you two walked, the angry look on her face was enough to send chills down your spine.

why did she seem so mad?

once you two reached the exit of the park, you stopped which made ningning stop with you.

“what was that all about?” you asked, noticing how ningnings expression softened slightly.

“they were so clearly trying to get your number so they could take you on a date or something, how did you not catch that.” ningning said, her tone filled with jealousy.

“nuh uh, they probably just wanted to be friends, i don’t see why it concerns you anyways.” you responded, crossing your arms and looking past ningnings shoulder to see if you could at least spot one of the dudes who stopped you, but no luck.

ningning bit her lip, deciding on if she should be straight up or lie. if she confessed right now then what would your reaction be? would it ruin things? time to play russian roulette i guess…

“it concerns me because i like you and im tired of you being so oblivious when it comes to people flirting with you.” she blurted out, watching as your eyes instantly locked with hers in shock.

“you like me?” you asked, confused.

“yes you idiot, i’ve liked you for longer than i can think of but you’ve always been so oblivious when i even attempted at flirting with you.” she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose while closing her eyes, she knew you were oblivious but she didn’t think it was that extreme.

it was silent for a moment before you pulled ningnings hand away from her face, holding it as you gently kissed her cheek.

“i like you too.” you smiled.

“ew now you two really need to get a room!” giselle shouted from across the exit.

[agoodroughandtumble]

Tell Me How - Zoro x Reader

Status: One Shot Summary: Zoro wants to know why Reader is in love with him; Reader has other ideas Warnings: 18+, Implied/bordering on NSFW

You had been trying – and failing – to move for at least ten minutes. Every time you managed to gain a few inches across the mattress a strong arm would pull you back. No that you were complaining – well, you were complaining, slightly, you just needed to stretch your legs. Zoro had a habit of falling asleep on top of you which was always welcoming when you wanted a cwtch. It was less welcoming when you had his entire body weight on top of you all night and you were currently trapped in a death grip. Another attempt to wriggle out of his vice-like grip resulted in you collapsing back against his chest with a sigh.

“You might need to let me move soon.” You told him, fingers lazily stroking along his forearm.

“Nope. Got you now.” His voice was groggy, deep, half-asleep and coupled with a tighter grip around your waist.

You rolled your eyes, a smirk forming at the corner of your mouth. Obviously there were worse ways to start your day, but for “a great swordsman” he wasn’t half clingy when he was tired. As much as he would hate you thinking it, it was rather adorable. For someone usually so in control, so aware of all of the burdens life thrust upon him, so aware of his innate need to be the best, to do the best, and yet every morning he awoke needing your form against his. Everyone else might know him as the demon pirate hunter; you knew him.

He slung a leg over your waist, as usual, holding you as close as he possibly could. Your fingers continued running along his forearms, biceps, spurred on by his murmurs of satisfaction. The ship was quiet, but peacefully so, the gentle, rhythmic rocking of the waves almost convincing enough to let you believe that the entire universe was just you and Zoro, and feeling his heartbeat, his shallow breaths against your shoulder. Which was why it was so annoying that you just needed to move. You weren’t even moving far, just turning over to stretch out a bit but Zoro was half asleep and a dead weight and entirely committed to this moment. It would have been excessively romantic … if your bones didn’t ache.

“Zoro… I do need to move.” You said gently, feet sliding along his calves.

There was a small grunt. “You can move under one condition.”

Your raised eyebrows would have been missed if he hadn’t shifted so he was completely on top of you. Even after months of waking up next to him the feeling of all of him on top of you still had the butterflies in your stomach dive-bombing straight to your core. You tried to keep your composure but your dilated pupils and the shakily exhaled breath completely gave you away.

You couldn’t quite describe the way he looked at you – on the surface it was all tenderness, and yet the swordsman was fully living up to his nickname. Boring into your soul. The underlying darkness, an abyss you so happily jumped head first into because he would catch you. He would always catch you. Your breath hitched under such scrutiny, the anticipation of what was yet to come, the promise of all the depths you could traverse. Trying to keep a level head was futile, and yet you endeavoured. “Which is?”

He smirked. A devilish smile if ever there was one as his head dipped, lips tracing along your neck. “Tell me how you fell in love with me.” Teeth nipped at your ear, “Then I’ll let you go.”

You sighed, against any better judgement allowing yourself to be completely his, “You know how.”

“Mmm.” Whether that was a response to what you said, or just his attention to your collarbone was beyond you, but you didn’t care. Your skin goosepimpled as his hands travelled along your curves, caressing every inch before stopping just where you wanted him most. “Say it.”

“Zoro … I, you kno-oh fuck.”

If you weren’t far too aware of his fingers you would probably be able to come up with a response. Instead, your hips involuntarily met his hand and any semblance of coherence was gone. You didn’t hear a chuckle, but the reverberations against your skin was enough to leave you shivering.

“Tell me how you fell in love with me.” His voice was more solid now, sterner.

“You know how,” you managed out, thighs trapping his wrist in place.

His pace slowed. Agonisingly. As if almost nothing. And when you looked up at him all there was was those dark, determined eyes. Just before a kill. Zoro was not a man to back down – you had learnt that many times over, and would learn many times over again.

Maybe it was the heat rising, maybe it was the way that looked at you, maybe it was the ever desperate need to be everything or rather his everything, whatever it was you pushed yourself up on your elbows and crossed a leg over the other, keeping his hand in place. He looked confused and you couldn’t help but feel a little proud of catching him off guard. With an eyebrow raised and your entire heart firmly in his grasp to crush you squared up to him. You cocked your head in an attempt at nonchalance. “Not until you tell me first.”

[deanscherrypie69]

Did it mean something? D.W𖧷

♡Dean Winchester X Female Reader♡

♡Warnings: Mentions of kissing, and language no use of Y/n. 18+ pls minors DNI!!!!!♡ please do not post my fics anywhere else expect tumblr, you have been warned!

♡Feedback is appreciated! Comments and reblogs are appreciated!!!!♡

♡Depending how this does I’ll post a part two!♡

♡My inbox is open for anything! (It will be open for requests soon!)♡

It had been a few days after Sam went to hell. Dean had lost his brother and you had lost your best friend that day. It was hard on you both. You didn't talk about it.

You both had been pushing your feelings down, about the whole situation, too scared to open up. Since Sam had been gone you and Dean had been hunting nonstop. It had been an easier way to cope with everything. Just pretending that everything was fine when it wasn't.

You And Dean had just finished vamp hunt and he offered to get food for you both.

After the hunt It had been raining like cats and dogs, you had been stuck in the hotel room trying to get a signal on the tv. "Come on!" You scream hitting the sides of the tv, it had been going out since the storm started, you sigh and run you hand across your face, when you were met with black and white static.

"Piece of shit-" You mutter kicking the bottom of the tv stand. You huff and sit on the edge of one of the motel beds.

You and Dean had been laying low for the past couple of days. You didn't hear from Bobby nor cas. You flop back onto the bed with a groan.

That was until the motel door swung open causing you to look over.

"Still nothing?" Dean questions throwing a white fastfood bag onto the little table in the kitchen.

"Nope." You say still looking at the ceiling.

You hear shuffling for a second, then you see the green eyed hunter standing over you with something wrapped in tinfoil. "Eat." He says placing it next to you.

You quickly sit up and grab the burger. You watch as Dean sits on the bed opposite bed across from you, he begins to unwrap the burger he had gotten both of you.

You watch as he bites into it, but you also noticed his wet hair. You watch him take two bites before looking in your direction.

Dean stops chewing the food in his mouth, "What?" He questions when he catches you stare at him.

"Nothing." You say.

Dean mumbles an 'ok' and continues to eat.

For some guy who had lost his brother he seems to be doing just fine. You get up from the bed, and walk into the kitchen, pulling out the chair you pull back the motel curtain, you stare out the window and watch the rain fall.

You missed Sam, he was your besfriend - besides Dean you thought, you and Dean were never really close it upset you, he never really talked to you about anything besides Sam. When you entered the room he'd go quite.

You never understood why.

You had been staring out the window for too long to notice the green eyed hunter sitting across from you.

"You really should eat."

His voice rumbles through your body. "I'm good." You say looking from the window and to the man that had been sitting across from you for god knows how long.

Dean sighs and leans back in the chair.

"You okay Dean?" You Hum crossing your arms over your chest.

"As good as i can be." He huffs through his nose, "I could ask you the same thing, I know loosing your bestfriend is hard." He says.

You roll your eyes, "He's your brother Dean."

Dean leans forward on the table his arms resting against the table. He nods his head, "We'll get him back." Dean says taking a deep breath, "We always do." He gets up from the table tapping his knuckles against the wood.

You notice the bruises that sit upon his knuckles, they were purple. He had gotten them trying to fight of a vampire, to save you.

"Sorry about that." You swallow, your eyes still focused on the purple.

Dean follows your gaze.

"Its nothing, happens." He says walking over to the fridge, he opens it pulling out two beers. He holds one up, He knew you weren't very much of a drinker. You hated beer. But why the hell not, right?

You get up from your chair and make your way over to Dean where he was leaning against the counter. He flicks the bottle top off and plops it in the sink behind him.

You copy his motion, you step beside him and plop the top into the sink.

You bring the bottle up to your lips, the bitter liquid runs down your throat. pullinging the bottle away, you notice Dean's eyes on yours.

"What?" You hiccup.

"Nothing," He says bringing the glass bottle up to his lips.

You begin to fidgit with the bottle, you were still facing the sink, staring down at the two bottle tops in the sink. "Do you ever think about it?" You hum.

Dean turns his head in confusion, "Think about..? he questions, you noticed the confusion in his voice.

You take a deep breath, "Getting out, hunting. And living a normal life."

Dean stares down at his bottle, "All the time." Dean sighs.

He had called one of his lovers, Lisa hoping to rekindle something with her now that Sam was gone, she said yes. Dean was supposed to leave by morning.

But Dean didn't know if he wanted too, it would leave you alone and he knew that you were counting on him to be there.

You sigh.

You could see Dean shifing in his spot. What was he thinking about you wonder?

You place the beer bottle down on the counter, making your way over to the bed. The staic looking on the tv fills your ears.

"Do you think about it?" Dean asks putting his bottle next to yours. He strieds over to the bed and sits next to you.

Talking a shaky breath, you turn to face the green eyed man. "No." Dean watches you fiddle with your fingers, as he waits for you to contiue, "I never saw myself settling down, or getting out of this life, it's not for me. This is my life. There's no changing that."

Dean nods at your words.

You look up to find the man looking at you. His eyes searching your face, going back and forth between your eyes and lips.

It all happened to fast, Dean's lips on yours you his on his shirt, urging him to take it off.

This was wrong, you thought. You never felt this way about him. He was so mysterious, he never let you in on anything that happened to him, it was always Sam filling you in.

You both could barely be in a room together without one of you leaving because of the awkwardness.

But maybe it was Dean putting up a guard to try and protect you. He knew you didn't belong in this life, hunting and killing things. It just wasn't right for you.

You're different you aren't like him or Sam. And that's what Dean liked.

You were bought out of your thoughts when Dean nipped your ear causing you to squeal. "everything okay?" Dean questions looking up. You were straddling him.

His lips were pink and swollen from the kissing.

You quickly nod and grab his face, pressing your lips against his.

- - You had been woken up by a pounding on the door, you shoot up out of the bed, your eyes still trying to adjust from the light that was coming through the window.

You quickly pull the covers from your body, cold air hits your skin, you were naked. "Shit." You mumble, the pouding on the door didn't stop.

You looking over on the side of your bed where you were hoping to find Dean but he was gone. A bad feeling washed over you when you slide you t-shirt over your head.

You smelt him everywhere. In your skin in your hair. He was everywhere but no where all at once.

Putting the last leg into your jean's you fling open the door.

You were met with an old lady and a cleaning cart, "Room service!" She smiles, squeezing past you with her cart. You close the door behind you.

You quickly rush over to the bathrrom, maybe he'd just been in there, but you were met with a dark room. His duffle bag was gone. You swallow hard.

You walk back into the kitchen to find the beer bottles still sitting on the counter. Everything was gone, he was gone.

Tears form in your eyes. You grab your socks and shoes, and your coat that had been on the back of the chair in the kitchen chair.

You do a quick run through of the room to make sure you weren't missing anything.

Turing your head over your shoulder you had noticed the tv wasn't static anymore, an episode of 'Dr sexy' Was playing on the screen.

The cleaning lady had made her way over to the kitchen area, throwing away the bottles you and Dean had drank out of earlier.

You sigh and fish the hotel key out of your pocket before setting it down on the table.

You shut the door of the motel behind you, you fish out your phone and scroll through your contacts.

You click on the name before letting it ring a few times.

"Hey Bobby, care to give a girl a lift?"

[acewritesfics]

No More Hiding | Jay Halstead

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

Request: From Anon

Warnings: secret relationship, friends to lovers.

Word Count: 1,572

Jay Halstead Masterlist | Main Masterlist

“Hey nurse, I was hoping you could help me out a little,” Jay’s voice catches Y/N’s attention as she goes over her schedule for the next two weeks. She had managed to get this weekend off but had to fill in for a couple shifts next week.   

“What seems to be the problem, Detective Halstead?” she smiles looking up at him.   

“Can we go somewhere a little more private?” he asks, a hopeful look in his eyes.  

Y/N checks the time and nods, “I’m still on my lunch break but I suppose I can help you with your problem, whatever it might be.”   

“Thank you,” he sighs in relief.  

Y/N leads him up and hall and into one of the rooms currently not being occupied. As soon as the door closes, Jay locks it and moves closer to Y/N, his arms going around her waist pulling her against him.   

“Is everything okay?” she asks him, concern flashing in her eyes.   

“Everything is perfect,” he tells her and places a soft kiss to her lips. “I just wanted to see you.”  

“You’ll be seeing me in-” she pauses to check her watch. “6 hours, when you pick me up for our weekend getaway.”  

“Is it actually classed as a getaway if we’re still going to be in Chicago?” he asks.   

The two of them had planned this weekend getaway to celebrate their first Valentine’s Day together. It was unfortunate that Valentine’s Day this year lands on a Tuesday and they are both working that day. Instead, they decided to make a weekend of it the weekend before the day dedicated to love.   

“We are getting away from our lives for two days. No work, no people who we love dearly, no responsibilities. It’s a getaway, babe,” she smiles as she tip-toes to peck his lips.   

“We need to talk later,” he tells her, earning a nervous look from her.  

“Oh, okay,” she nods, gulping down the lump that is forming in her throat. For her, nothing good ever came from someone who says ‘we need to talk’. The last person who spoke those words to her told her he was breaking up with her.   

“It’s nothing bad, I promise,” he assures her just as his phone starts to ring. Checking it he sighs, “It’s work.”   

“You better answer it then,” she tells him and kisses him again. “I’ll see you tonight.”  

He nods and kisses her once more before unlocking the door and leaving the room as he answers his phone.  

Trying to put the ‘we need to talk’ thing to the back of her mind, she leaves the room only to bump into Will who notices right away that she has something on her mind.   

“Are you okay?”   

“Yeah, I’m good,” she smiles.   

“Did Jay come and talk to you?” he asks, looking at her suspiciously.  

“No, why would he do that?” she questions him a little too abruptly.   

“Okay, whatever is going on between you two, you don’t have to hide it,” Will tells her, letting on that he knows about them. “You’re my best friend and he’s my brother. If anyone knows you two the best, it’s me.”  

“Okay, know-it-all,” she scoffs. “Don’t tell Jay that you know.”  

“He already knows that I know,” he admits. “Who do you think encouraged him to make a move on you?”   

“You Halstead’s are full of surprises today,” she says looking at him stunned. “I’ve got to get back to work.”   

“I’ll see you Monday, if not before then,” Will calls out to her as she heads back to the children’s ward.  

-

“Why didn’t you tell me Will knows about us?” Y/N asks her ‘secret’ boyfriend. She’s sitting on the couch, in one of Jay’s shirts, a glass of red wine in her hand as Jay prepares them something to eat in the kitchen. The fire’s been going for a few hours now, making the cabin nice and warm.   

When they arrived, Jay had surprised her with the fire already lit, rose petals making a trail to the bedroom where a bucket with wine, chocolates and flowers sat on the bed. The spent a good 2 to 3 hours in the bedroom before their stomachs began to rumble, both having not eaten since their lunch breaks.  

“We agreed to keep this between us until we figured it out,” he says. “And that was five months ago. That’s why I said we need to talk.”  

“Because it’s been five months and we’re still sneaking around?” she asks making sure that’s what he was getting at.  

He nods, popping a piece chicken breasts into his mouth as he sliced it up to put on the pizza. “I was thinking that maybe we shouldn’t hide it anymore and that I want everyone to know I’m crazy in love with you.”  

“You love me?” she asks, her eyes widening a little. Standing up, she walks over to the small kitchen area and places her glass on the counter as she moves next to him.  

He drops the knife in his hand on the counter and wipes his hands on the dish cloth before wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her closer. “Of course, I do. I think I’ve always been in love with you. It just took Will giving me a kick up the ass for me to realize it.”  

Y/N had grown up next door to the Halstead’s. Even though she was Jay’s age, being a few months younger than the younger of the Halstead brothers, she became instant best friends with Will, seeing him as the brother she never had. Jay saw her as his big brother’s annoying best friend. But as they grew older, their petty arguments ceased and they became friends. Eventually feelings were developed but neither of them made their move. There was one time Jay thought Y/N could be in love with Will given how close the two friends were. And when Jay drunkenly got married in Vegas during his time in the Army Rangers, Y/N thought her chance with the former soldier were over. After that they lost touch while she went to Nursing school, she moved to Arizona after finding a job in the pediatric ward at one of the Phoenix hospitals while he came back to Chicago to look after his mom and join the police academy.   

It wasn’t until she got a job at Chicago Med three years ago after moving back to Chicago to take care of her dad, who at the time was going through the early stages of younger-onset dementia, that she reconnected with Jay. It was like they hadn’t spoken in years. And then five months ago, after a long lecture from Will, Jay got the courage to ask Y/N on a date.   

“I’m crazy in love with you too,” she smiles, looking into his eyes with nothing but pure love for him.   

He grins, kissing her passionately as he lifts her up and walks them back into the bedroom and drops her on to the bed, breaking the kiss.  

Before he can move over her to reconnect their lips, she holds out her hand, stopping him. “Wait! Before this goes any further, I have something for you.”  

Getting off the bed, she hurries over to her duffle bag and pulls out a small gift box and brings it over to him. “I know we said no gifts but I couldn’t resist and this is more of a necessity.”  

Jay takes it looking at her suspiciously but doesn’t open it right away. “It seems we both broke the no gift rule.” Still holding on to his gift, he goes into his bag and pulls out a small gift box too.   

“This isn’t a necessity but I saw it and thought of you right away,” he hands her the small box. “You open your one first.”  

Untying the ribbon and opening the box, she finds a silver chain necklace with a small pendent of her favorite flower hanging from it.   

“Oh Jay, it’s beautiful,” she gushes taking it out of the box to admire it more closely. “I love it so much,” She leans over, kissing him. “Thank you.”  

“You’re welcome,” he smiles and takes the necklace from her before moving behind her. Draping it around her neck, he clasps it together before moving in front of her and kissing her again.  

“Your turn now,” she says picking up his gift from the bed where he left it to put her necklace on her and hands it to him.  

He takes it from her and opens it to reveal a brand new watch.   

“I know your old one got smashed taking down that bad guy so I thought a new one would be the perfect gift,” she smiles seeing the surprised look on his face as he takes it out of the box. “Check the back,” she tells him.  

Flipping the watch over, he sees there’s something etched into the back of it. “To the first of many. Happy Valentine’s Day, babe. Love Y/N,” he reads aloud. “I love you so much,” he breathes pulling her in for another kiss, this one more passionate than the last.   

She takes the watch from him and breaks the kiss to put it on his wrist.  

“After this weekend, there will be no more hiding,” he tells her.  

She smiles agreeing with him. “No more hiding.”  

[itssliyahhxoxo]

𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞

(𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐆 𝐗 𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐗 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐌)

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: reader spends to much time on the team and not enough time on herself.

Laughter field the room as kk ran away from nika after pulling a prank on her during practice . “So you free tonight” Paige asked sitting next to you as the laughter quiet down and everyone got back to practice.

“We’re all going out tonight for drinks just to chill” she added you nodded thinking to yourself. Tonight was going to be your night to rest,you haven’t really been able to due to work this season was a little rough on you.

You know you were over working yourself but you didn’t let that stop you from taking care of your girls.they we’re family to you,crazy but still family. “Y-yeah sure what time” you hesitated looking at the time “around 10” she answered it was already 8 only giving you a hour to yourself.

“Ok,I’ll see you there” you softly smiled picking up your bag “hey,what’s wrong” she asked noticing your reaction “nothing,just a little tired” you sighed “you don’t have to go if you don’t want to” she told you.

“No,no I’m fine besides I need a drink or two” you smiled as Paige walked with you to the parking lot “you sure” she asked “uhm” you nodded. She could tell you were lying she and the team noticed how much time you’ve been spending on your work.

What she had noticed how pale you looked she wanted to ask you if you were ok but she didn’t wanted to be pushy “alright then”

Music field your ears as you sat alone at the bar as the rest of the girls were doing there own thing.you sighed rubbing your eyes exhausted, “you good” Paige asked walking next to you taking a seat “yeah,I’m fine” you sighed “you know you can talk to us right” she softly looked at you she how tired you looked.

You turned to her,giving her a soft smile you took her hand in yours rubbing it “I’m fine..I promise” you smiled “but I should go big day tomorrow” you said before downing the rest of your drink. You tried to get up but when you did you stumbled almost falling but before you could Paige caught you “woah maybe you shouldn’t be driving,how many drinks have you had” she asked wrapping her arm around your waist and her other grabbing your things.

“Only one” you mumbled,you wasn’t lying that was your only drink and drinking on a empty stomach wasn’t the best idea “you sure about that light weight” she chuckled walking both of you out the club to her car.

“Your a good friend you know that” you mumble looking her in the eyes as she unlocked the car “so I’ve heard” she chuckled helping you into the car a putting your seat belt on.

You woke up with a sigh feeling drained you slowly mad your way up grabbing your phone. Your eyes widened realizing what time it was you were 30 minutes late to the teams game “SHIT” you quickly got up as you called geno “hey were are you” he answered.

“On my way,I’m so sorry I slept in” you rushed out slipping on a pear of jeans and a knew shirt “no problem,drive safely” he told you before ending the call.you ran to your bath to brush your teeth and fix your hair trying to look somewhat decent.

Finishing your makeup you quickly walked towards your front door grabbing your bag and leaving not having any time to grab anything to eat.

“Hey what I miss” you said out of breath as you stood next to geno finally making it “the hell happened to you” he asked watching you breathe heavily you rolled your eyes sitting down as you began to feel a little dizzy.

“Nothing” you mumbled trying to catch your breath “what I miss” you asked again ignoring the look on his face.

“Nothing much” she sighed sitting next to you “you sure you’re ok” he asked “yeah” you looked away not wanting to see the look on his face



A couple minutes had passed when a break was called. You were zoned out when Paige walked up to your breathing hard “you made it” she smiled “what” you looked up snapping out of it. She frown “you good” she asked “y-yeah” you got up but way to fast the dizziness hit you again making you fall but before you could hit the floor Paige caught you.

Paige/3rd pov

Her eyes widened as she caught you,slowly laying you down everyone ran towards you too after seeing what happened.

“What happened” geno asked kneeling next to you “I-i don’t know,she said she was fine” Paige mumbled still in shock. The medic had ran out and was know by your side checking your pulse “you should get her to a hospital” he suggested feeling that your pulse was pretty low.

“W-why is she ok” kk spoke up “hopefully” he told her “I’ll take her,you all stay hear and finish this up” geno ordered “what no way,or you crazy” everyone yelled “end of discussion go” he shouted back getting help for the medic taking you to his car.



They had all did as told but the minute the game was over they all went to the hospital. “We’re is she” Paige asked “she’s resting” geno answered “is she ok” kk asked “what happened” ice asked. They all started asking questions after questions.

“OK,ok, she fine the doctors said that she needs rest” he told them “why what wrong with her” Paige asked. With a sigh geno answered “they said that her body it under a lot of stress and there hasn’t been any food in her system in the past two days.

They were all quiet talking it all in “so she ok though right” nika asked “yeah she gonna be ok right” kk asked.

“Yea she just needs rest,and she gonna be on bed rest for about a week” geno sighed sitting down “can we see her” Paige asked “yeah but only one-“ before geno could finish she walked in your room closing the door behind you.

She slowly walked next to your bed as you slept and sat in the chair next to your bed taking you hand in hers.

Your/3rd pov

Your eyes slowly open you frown looking around “hey pretty girl” you looked too your side and saw Paige “what happened” you asked “you fainted,the doctors said you haven’t been eating and you’ve been stressed..why didn’t you tell us” she whispered looking you in the eye.

You sighed leaning back “I thought I had in my control”. “You don’t have to do this alone,we’re here to help” Paige told you.

“Yeah..I know” you looked down “promise me when you get out of here you’ll take care of yourself” she asked “Paige-“ “promise me” she cut you off.

“I promise” you softly smiled.



[violetsaffron5]

NSFW Gojo Week (5)

Ao3 • Discord 18+ • Social Media • Series Masterlists

Pairing: Gojo x f!Reader

Gojo maybe, kinda, sorta got hit with a sex curse technique on purpose and he can't stop thinking about one thing.

cw: sex pollen/curse, breeding, cum play, vaginal sex, spit kink, creampie, this one is just kinda silly goofy

words: 2.4k

Masterlist • Day 4 • Day 6

“Hey, baby…”

“Hey, Satoru… You okay? What’s up?”

You can hear hesitancy in his voice through the other line of the phone, which isn’t normal, to say the least.

“Um. I kinda fucked up at work today.”

Okay. That’s not unusual.

“Oh. Yaga making you work overtime or something?”

“No, not exactly. Can you just… come home as soon as possible?” You’re able to make out some rustling in the background but are unable to tell exactly what it is.

“Home?”

“Yeah.”

“Uh, okay. I’ll… be there soon, I guess.”

In all the years that you’ve been together, that you’ve just known him, it’s not uncommon for him to do something to piss Yaga off and be forced to pick up extra missions as punishment. But for him to be sent home?

It had to have been bad.

You’re racking your brain but unable to come up with something bad enough that he would do that this would happen. Did they fire him? Could they fire him?

If that’s the case, then there’s a good chance Satoru isn’t taking the news well. He loves his students and has a great passion for teaching them, so you’re really not sure what kind of mess you’re about to walk into.

When you step into your shared apartment everything is clean like usual. Looking around the kitchen and living room, nothing is amiss. The only thing you can hear is music coming from down the hall.

As you make your way toward the bedroom, you’re able to make out the distinct sounds of Satoru panting and grunting, and you’re really unsure of what’s going on at this point.

“Satoru? What’s going on in her-”

You blink several times, not expecting to walk in on this.

He’s standing in front of the full-length mirror next to the dresser, wearing nothing but his socks, muscles rippling, with his palm gripped around his hard cock watching as he strokes himself.

His eyes catch yours and he gives you a lopsided grin, slicking back his sweat-covered bangs, “Oh. Hey.”

You don’t mean to, you really don’t, but you can’t help but laugh at what you’ve just walked in on, “Were you just… in the mirror?”

Finally, you take a moment to look around the bedroom only to notice it’s a wreck. His clothes are strewn all over, a couple of energy drinks sit on the nightstand next to his side of the bed, and there are bottles - bottles - of lube on the dresser next to where he’s standing.

He watches you with a serious expression as he strides over to you, “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

You smile at his words, trying your absolute best to not continue laughing, “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.” He breathes, cupping your face as he places several soft, sensual kisses on your lips. You can feel the way he’s rocking his hips into you, trying to get more stimulation.

“What’s got you all hot and bothered?” You ask as he moves to nibble your ear. Satoru has always smelled good, but right now, despite the sheen of sweat covering his body, he smells like vanilla and warmth and it’s making it incredibly hard to resist him.

“I just…” His eyes trail down to your stomach, hands on your waist, thumbs pressing small circles on your stomach, “I just really wanna fuckin’ breed you.”

Your eyes grow wide at his words. This isn’t something you ever talked about seriously. The few times the topic has been brought up, he’s shut it down almost instantly expressing that he doesn’t want to have kids until he reaches his goal of resetting Jujutsu society.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Yeah… I gotta… You’re gonna look so fucking good all big and round and full of me.”

It’s probably not a smart move, but you’ll entertain his exceptionally rampant, lustful thoughts for now. It’s not like you’ve ever really been able to resist his advances, always melting to his touch as soon as his lips press to yours.

When you grab the base of his cock, Satoru whimpers as you drag your hand slowly to the tip a few times while he slips his tongue into the warmth of your mouth.

And then he moans with furrowed brows. And you know that moan, along with the familiar wet, stickiness that’s been released in the palm of your hand.

“Satoru… did you just…” You look down and sure enough, the evidence of his release is in your fist.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty.”

His eyes bore into yours when he brings your hand to his lips and licks his cum off, eyes slowly turning more black than blue with lust.

Your mouth is agape as you watch him, utter confusion written on your face, especially as he places your hand back on his cock.

“Why are you still-”

Hard.

Sure, Satoru can go like a fucking racehorse. There have been plenty of times when the two of you have stayed up all night and day rolling between the sheets. But even this is unusual for him.

“Mm. You should strip for me,” He decides, moving to sit at the edge of the bed with hopeful eyes, stroking his cock in anticipation. 

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he’s having some sort of incredibly horny manic episode.

Folding your arms over your chest, you watch him seriously, skeptically, “Not until you tell me what’s going on.”

He sighs, trilling his lips while rolling his eyes. He knows you’re not going to give in until he tells you.

“I-” He waves his hand in front of his face, “Got hit with this curse technique.”

“Ok. I’m guessing it was a sex technique, right?” He nods, “How did this happen?”

It’s not uncommon for sex curses to appear since so many people have so many varied feelings about the physical act. What’s not common is Satoru being affected due to his Infinity.

“I was curious what it would be like, and now I just really need you to fuck it out of me. Please.”

He’s never been one to beg but your stoic demeanor diminishes as soon as he pouts because quite honestly, he looks so fucking good when he strokes his cock.

And you know he feels even better.

His cock is longer and harder than you’ve ever seen it. His dick has always been so pretty but right now the tip is red and angry, leaking precum that he’s spreading with his thumb down the length of his cock.

Biting your lip, you slowly unbutton your uniform top, letting it fall to the floor. Satoru sucks in a deep breath as he looks at your chest, humming when he sees the lacy bra you wore today. After undoing your belt, you remove your bra before gently squeezing your breasts as you shimmy your hips, letting your skirt fall to your ankles.

You leave your heels on, because you know he likes that. He has a goofy grin on his face with half-lidded eyes as you step towards him before turning around and over, giving him a view of your cunt as you remove your panties before discarding them with the rest of the clothes on the floor.

Placing your hand on his chest, you go to push him back on the bed, but he’s not going to give you control, not tonight. You already knew that.

Grabbing your wrist and pinning it over your head, he pushes you into the mattress. When he grabs the base of your neck you gasp, giving him the opportunity to grin, showing off his perfect, pearly white teeth before letting a trail of saliva fall into your mouth.

You fucking love it when he’s rough like this.

He usually is, but you know he holds back, trying not to hurt you. But when he gets so aroused that he can’t help himself, can barely think straight? You have the time of your life.

There’s a neediness already blossoming in the pit of your stomach, breaths falling faster as he slowly ghosts his fingers over your skin, feeling every dip and curve you have to offer him.

He’s drinking you in like water he hasn’t had in decades, that you’re a decadent meal that he’s about to devour.

The thought sends a jolt straight to your core.

He parts your legs, nestling himself between them easily as he crashes his lips to yours in a series of searing hot kisses, tugging on your lower lip greedily when he pulls away.

You roll your hips against him, seeking friction when he presses his hips to your core, moaning wantonly into his mouth.

“Always so wet for me baby,” He praises, adjusting himself so his cock sits at your entrance before easily slipping between your folds. “Gonna - oh god - gonna make you a mommy. You want that baby? Yeah, I know you do. Been asking me about it forever.”

He’s babbling, already losing himself in you and it feels like he’s legitimately trying to split you in half with how he doesn’t give you any time to adjust before he’s slamming his hips into you at an unbelievable pace.

Skin slapping and lewd squelching fill the room as he sits back, watching where you’re connected. His cheeks are pink, across the bridge of his nose and to the tips of his ears. Placing a hand on your stomach, feeling the bulge from his cock, he’s mesmerized watching as it disappears inside you.

“Sit up.” He commands, so you do on your elbows as you watch him spit where you’re connected before staring at you intently, waiting for you to do the same.

He moans when you do, watching the way all your fluids mix together as he continues to fuck into you with reckless abandon.

Satoru hits that spot inside you repeatedly, the one that has your toes curling and gasping as you grab onto his shoulder as your legs tense and your face contorts in pleasure.

A wave of ecstasy rolls through you as you scream out his name over and over again.

“Fuck, you’re so tight baby, you’re gonna make me-” He groans kissing the junction between your neck and shoulder, “I’m gonna-”

His body tenses as warmth fills your insides, eyes wide as he hisses like he’s in pain before scrambling off the bed. You watch in horror as he moves out of you and off the bed faster than you’ve ever seen before.

“What- Are you okay?”

“Cramp. Got a cramp in my leg.”

You laugh, throwing your head back and resting while he takes care of his little issue.

“Stop laughing.” His voice is serious, causing you to sit back up on your elbows and look at him. “Stop laughing while I’m-” He gestures to his length.

You didn’t think it was possible to bruise his ego, especially when it comes to sex because he’s just so damn good at it. But being affected by the curse, he’s got to have an influx of so many emotions running through him that he’s trying incredibly hard to not let you see.

Grabbing your ankle, Satoru flips you easily so you’re on all fours, facing the mirror next to the dresser, across from the bed. It’s disorienting when he does this, using his technique like that to get you into the position he wants. He knows it, you’ve told him. He still does it.

“Gonna knock you up. Fuck!” He groans as he enters you again from behind, hand gripping your hair at the scalp forcing you to watch in the mirror as he pistons his hips into you. “Everyone’s gonna know you’re mine. They already do, baby right? They know you’re mine?”

“Yes, yesyesyes,” is all you’re able to breathe out as you watch him in the mirror.

He looks so fucking good with parted lips, chest red and heaving as he pounds into you, the baby blues of his eyes are no longer visible, replaced by his black lust-filled pupils.

“Oh, shit. Oh, fuck-” He groans out, focusing on your cunt and the way it grips onto him, “Squeeze me like that again baby - oh yeah - just like that. Gonna- fuck - you gonna make me a daddy, baby?”

It’s all so much, so euphoric that there’s no way you’re able to hold back your impending orgasm; unable to help the way your thighs shake when the tip of his length kisses your cervix so deliciously you know it’ll ache in the morning. 

The moment Satoru drapes his body over yours, fingers drawing small tight circles on your clit is the moment the flames erupt, warmth and pleasure coursing through your veins as your walls spasm and constrict around his cock.

Satoru lets out a melodious moan as he cums, shoving his cock into you as far as possible, hips flush against yours until you can feel him in your throat, spilling into you with everything he has. 

There’s so much dripping out from between where you’re connected that his efforts to keep it all inside are fruitless. The view is absolutely obscene, cum mixed together and dripping onto the bed sheets below, the sounds are vulgar but it doesn’t stop him from fucking it deep and deeper inside, rolling his neck and head back through the hypersensitivity of his tip.

Eventually, he rolls you over onto your back, peppering your face and lips with little kisses, but there’s an unexpected wetness on his cheeks that causes you to knit your brows together and look at him.

“Are you… crying?”

“It just-” He takes a deep breath, licking a strip from your chest to jaw, “Felt so good.”

You’re sure he hates it, but you chuckle at the ridiculousness of all of this. This time though, he chooses to ignore it as he sucks several small lilac bruises on your neck, shoulder, and down to your tits.

“How has the curse not lifted yet?” You sigh, wiping your sweaty forehead with the back of your hand while Satoru positions his face between your legs, kissing your thighs several times, admiring the view.

“Oh, it did.” Your head snaps to his immediately curious about what he plans on doing, “I’ve just always wanted to know what we taste like together. Might as well do it now.”

You hiss as he runs his tongue between your hypersensitive folds, legs twitching around his head when he swirls his tongue on your clit.

“Good, huh?” He grins while slipping his tongue between your lips, letting you taste your mixed arousal on your tongue. He’s groaning, loving this as excess dribbles down your chin before he licks it off.

He gives a satisfied sigh, moving your hair out of your face and tucking it behind your ears before cradling you in his arms as you both drift off to sleep.

[ceilidho]

prompt: possessive best friend soap (part 1)

-

You’ve known Johnny for roughly—

“Whassit been—like twenty plus years, hen? I ken our mams have been close since we were in nappies, so we sort of grew up together, wouldn’t ya say?”

—too many years. You’ve been putting up with him for too many years now. Not more than you can count, but more than you can be bothered to relay to your bewildered-looking date sitting across the table from you. Besides, Johnny hardly needs you to fill in the blanks; since pulling up a chair beside the two of you, he’s been quite happy to share the intimate details of your friendship.

“‘Fact, almost moved in together a coupla years ago. ‘Am no’ sure why we didn’t. Might still, at some point. But I bet you knew that, huh—what was it, Rodney? Yeah, Rodney. Kinda a strange name, isn’t that? We had a dog named Rodney growing up, do’ya remember, kitty cat?”

“Yes, John. I remember.” Your head is fully in your hands now, elbows leaning against the table because there’s no reason for table manners anymore. Not with the way Johnny’s shovelling your food into his mouth like he hasn’t eaten all day. It’s annoying that it’s still rather endearing; you push the plate closer to him so he doesn’t have to reach as far across the table and risk spilling your pasta all over the white tablecloth. 

You’ve been trying to catch the waiter’s eye for the past five minutes, but it’s like the guy’s been paid off or blind or something because he does everything but look over at your table. What a waste of a night. 

In fairness, the date hadn’t been going exceedingly well; Rodney had already made a couple of rather passive aggressive comments about your field of study and furrowed his brows a bit too tight when you mentioned wanting to order dessert. 

“Sorry, I just need to—I’ll be right back,” you mutter, scooching away from the table and wincing when your chair scrapes across the floor. You scurry off to the bathroom while Johnny keeps prattling on about whatever inane topic he’s chosen this time to your date, who is looking increasingly agitated. His expression is pinched like he has a stomachache.

In the bathroom, you wet a paper towel and press it lightly to your cheeks so your makeup doesn’t smudge. They’ve been hot since Johnny sauntered into the restaurant and made a bee-line for your table, ignoring your repeated kicks under the table and you mouthing at him to leave. It’s not fair. You go out once a month if you’re lucky because work usually takes priority in your life and now Johnny’s on leave for the next month. You’ve made peace with the fact that you’re going to have to delete all dating apps off your phone for at least the next foreseeable month. 

When you come back, you’re not altogether shocked to find only Johnny still at the table, your date long gone. He scoops up the leftover red sauce with the table bread, looking like he’s having the time of his life even on his own.

“Made a break for it, did he?” you ask, sighing when you collapse despondently into your chair.

“Sorry, kitty cat,” Johnny apologies with big, beseeching eyes. “Tried to tell ‘im he didn’t hav’ta leave, but he wouldn’t have it. Paid his bill at least, good lad. The guy's a pure fandan, wasn’t he?”

You don’t necessarily want to encourage his behaviour by agreeing with him, but you can’t help the soft sound that escapes you. 

Only on the drive home—you’d walked to the restaurant, but Johnny drives the two of you back to his place because he insists on making it up to you with ice cream and a movie—do you begrudgingly admit to yourself that you’re glad Johnny interrupted your date. If he was going to intrude on any date, at least it was that one. An otherwise lousy date might still have a good ending.

“Yer too good for him anyway, kitty cat,” Johnny sniffs on the drive home. You glance at him from the corner of your eyes, scrunching up your nose. You hadn’t even brought it up. “Did’ya see the way he chewed with his gob wide open? Pure repulsive behaviour. Who does that in front of a lady?”

“I don’t remember asking you about my choice of dates, Johnny.”

He laughs, reaching across to give your thigh a little squeeze. You ignore the way it makes your stomach jump. “‘Said my peace. Just don’t wanna see you settling for some numpty who hasn’t got any common decency.”

You grunt because the alternative is opening your mouth and screeching at the top of your lungs. You know this. It’s not your fault that the dating pool in your town is small to begin with and you’re picky on top of that. There’s some criteria for Man etched into your frontal lobe that you can’t read but you know is there, and it rejects every single guy you’ve ever dated. 

At his place, he gets you comfortable on the couch before going to the kitchen and coming back with a bowl of ice cream filled to the brim and a single spoon. You snap at him when Johnny sits way too close to you—so close in fact that you’re pressed up against the side of the two while there are two full cushions on the opposite side of him—but he just coos and feeds you anyway, making train noises when he brings the spoon to your mouth. 

He’s a rapscallion. He’s incorrigible and a devil and you miss him so much sometimes when he’s away doing whatever it is he does in the military that it hurts your heart. It literally hurts when he’s away. So you let him spoil you when he’s back in town on his annual leave or when he’s granted an exemption for a wedding or a funeral. You soak up every minute with your blue-eyed puppy dog of a best friend, content to leave the dates and your other friends for when he’s gone. 

That’s been the pattern now for going on several years. 

Winter is the ascetic’s season anyway. You have no reason to keep trying once the weather gets colder. So instead, you go to work during the day and then hunker down at night, only seldomly going out for drinks with friends or visiting your family for weekend brunch. 

Johnny must miss you too while he’s away because the man borders on feral when he comes back. Tactile as all hell. Nary a moment goes by when he doesn’t have his hands on you somehow—big hands smoothing over your shoulders when you complain about your back aching, a hand squeezing your thigh teasingly in the car, callused fingers pinching your cheeks and squishing them together like a fish.

“Okay, now say, ‘Johnny, thank you for chasing off my bawbag of a date and buying the choco-mint,’” he coos, squishing your cheeks with one hand, the other draped along the back of the couch behind you. He’s so close that you can smell the sweat on his skin, his scent a heady musk. 

You glare up at him, mollified by the ice cream but annoyed that he won’t stop rubbing it in. “Jawny, yew are an idjiot.”

He shakes his head, eyes sparkling. “No, that's no’ right. You got wax in your ears, kitty cat? Do I need ta’ check?”

You screech when he turns your head to the side and bites your ear, trying to crawl off the side of the couch, but he pulls you back down. Nearly pulls you on top of him, blowing raspberries into your temple and laughing. It’s almost impossible to escape from his arms, beefy since he enlisted years ago. They tighten around you, holding you in place while he nips at your earlobe and nuzzles into the side of your head. 

He’s near doubled in size since back then. Sometimes even the sight of him makes your head spin. He towers over you, not always the tallest in the room, but always standing the straightest, the proudest. Aware of the breadth of his shoulders and his physicality, loose and limber for the most part until someone gets on his bad side and you see the change wash over him. Cocky grin turned down and hard. Arms stiff by his sides. 

Not now though. Not in the little warm bubble of his living room, breath punched out of you with shrieking laughter. It’s hard to remember why you were upset with him in the first place.

“Gonna need you to give me a break, kitty,” Johnny breathes into your neck when he finally turns the movie on, pulling your legs until they’re draped across his lap. “How’m I supposed to keep an eye on you from across the world?”

“You don’t have to interrogate all my dates,” you mutter, eyes sliding shut. It’s warm in your bubble and the warmth makes you sleepy. Too bad Johnny doesn’t have a guest room at his place. You’ll probably end up drooling on his bicep when he carries you to bed. 

“Yeah, I do.” His voice is low, muffled against the top of your head. “No one’s good enough for my girl. Gotta make sure they know that.”

[pretending-ican-write]

Cowboy Up - Pt.3

Hope y'all enjoy! As always if there's anything wrong/inaccurate let me know. I'm currently looking through the show and picking out the scenes from each episode I want to put her into if anyone has any they'd like to see please let me know!

Pairing: Ryan (Yellowstone) x Dutton!reader

WC: 1894 (I wanted to split it but there was no good dividing point)

Previous part - Next part

---

A few months had passed and y/n had settled back into life on the ranch.  She had become accustomed to the 4am alarm in the form of Rip banging on the trailer, dragging herself into the bunk house and Lloyd handing her coffee before heading out to start work before the sun had begun to touch the mountain peaks.  Winter had arrived in Montana and the snow had descended from the mountains and into the valley.  In between the mountains, the winter sun did little to keep the frost away from the frozen ground and the hands could see their breath as they sat on their horses in the corral.

It was another day of roping practice and it was getting competitive, as it always did.  Y/n watched from her horse as a couple of hands took after the steer.  When they caught it, there were jeers from the onlookers at how long it had taken them.

“You call that roping boys?” She shouted, “you’d think they’d have learnt after a few months how to get one.”

One glared at her, “you think you can do better?  You’re a barrel racer woman not a fuckin’ roper.”

There was a low whistle from Lloyd, “boy you just made a big mistake.”

“Which reason is that I can’t rope?  ‘Cuz I’m a barrel racer or because I’m a woman?  Boy, I could rope circles around you with my eyes shut,” y/n responded.

He laughed, “I’d like to see you try.”

“Rip you want to help me prove this son of a bitch wrong?” She asked.

The foreman nodded, “boys you’re about to learn a true lesson in cowboying.”

They lined the horses up on either side of the chute, exchanging a look of determination.  With a deep breath, she nodded at Jake to open it up.  The gate flew open and the horses took off after the steer at speed.  With the ease of someone who’d roped cattle for over a decade, Rip had the horns and pulled the steer left.  Y/n swung the lasso over her head and threw it with careful timing to catch the back legs and bring the steer to an easy stop.  

“You forget that I been dealing with cattle since I could sit on a horse,” she shouted back to them.

Lloyd chuckled, “she’s more cowboy than any of you motherfuckers could ever hope to be.”

The old hand looked at Ryan next to him whose eyes were trained on the young woman as she furled her rope up neatly and patted her horse’s neck.  Lloyd observed the softness in his eyes and the way he subconsciously leaned forward in his saddle.  

He leaned over towards Ryan, “you ought to be careful with how you watch her son.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Lloyd,” Ryan straightened himself up.

Lloyd shook his head, “I’ve seen that look in enough cowboy’s eyes to know that it ends in heartbreak.”

“Trying my fuckin’ best to keep it out of ‘em,” he answered.

He watched y/n lope her horse around the corral, “you know if you break her heart there’ll be a line to break your face and I’m sure as hell in it.”

“She doesn’t make it easy Lloyd that’s for damn sure,” Ryan muttered, “god damn charm without even trying.”

Lloyd nodded, “neither of you are fuckin’ subtle.  Just don’t break her heart.”

Before he could respond, y/n brought her horse to a stop in front of them.  Her smile was infectious and Ryan couldn’t help but smile back at her.

“Anytime one of you boys needs a little humbling with a rope you let me know,” Y/n declared, “I’ll take your money here or at the poker table anytime.”

Ryan whispered under his breath, “you are gonna be the fuckin’ end of me.”

-/-/-

A few days later the hands were all gathered around the table with the bunk house heater on full blast.  A cold snap had come into the valley and didn’t show any signs of leaving.  The usual beer that came with the nightly game of cards had been exchanged for hot drinks and nobody had been brave enough to take their jackets off when they came inside.  

An argument was just about to break out between the hands when the door to the bunkhouse swung open to reveal y/n, not that it was immediately obvious it was her underneath all the layers she was wearing.  They stopped talking as the door swung shut behind her and watched as she deposited herself with all the clothes she was wearing right in front of the heater.  That got them talking again.

“Woman that’s the only thing stopping this entire bunk from getting hypothermia,” Jake exclaimed.

She glared at him, “at least you got heat.  Fuckin’ trailer’s battery packed in and there’s no damn heat in there.  Colder than the artic.”

“Go back to the house where you belong then,” the new hand responded bitterly.

Y/n shook her head, “boy you’ve been here long enough to know those words shoulda never come out your mouth.  Now move over so I can steal this week’s wages from you.”

“Okay but seriously why don’t you move back there where it’s warm?” Jake pressed.

She sighed, “I’ll go back there when he takes back what he did to Kaye.  And he can’t ever take that back.”

-/-/-

Later, after taking money from the hands that they didn’t have to give, y/n replaced all the layers she’d shed in the warmth of the bunkhouse and retreated to the cold of her trailer.  Ryan had watched with concern as she stepped out into the freezing night but kept his thoughts to himself when he saw the look that Lloyd was giving him.  He resigned himself to finishing their game of cards before turning in for the night, aware of the time he needed to be up in the morning.  As the bunkhouse fell asleep, Ryan listened to the wind rattling over the roof unsettled by the thought of y/n in the trailer with no heat.

After a couple of hours of tossing restlessly in his bunk, Ryan relented to his concern and got up.  Quietly, he put his coat and hat on before leaving the bunk house.  His breath was visible in the cold air and he pulled his coat tighter around him against the chill of the wind.  A light still on in the barn caught his attention and he went to investigate why it was still on in the middle of the night.

In the barn, nearly all the horses were asleep and safely tucked away from the cold outside.  As he headed down the aisle, Ryan looked into the stalls to check on the horses and stopped halfway down where the light was still on.  The spotted horse looked up from his hay briefly when Ryan stopped before looking to the back of the stall, as if indicating the cowboy what was there.  At the back, partially obscured, was a barely distinguishable figure beneath a pile of blankets he recognised from before.

“Fuck you doing out here?” He asked, surprised to see her there.

Y/n opened her eyes to look at him, “could ask you the same thing, cowboy.”

“Jake snores too much,” he claimed.

She snorted, “you managed just fine for years.  Somehow I don’t think that’s it.”

Ryan looked at her through the bars of the stall door as she raised her eyebrows at him expectantly.  He sighed at the look on her face and the collection of blankets she was in.

“Was worried about you in the cold,” he relented.

Y/n smiled at him, “Comanche is doing a good job of keeping me warm aren’t you boy.”

“And that’s why I can see you shivering under all those layers from here,” Ryan pointed out.

She rolled her eyes, “honestly I’m fine Ry.  Go get some sleep.”

“God you’re killing me here,” he muttered under his breath, “you’re gonna catch your death out here y/n.”

“Honeslty stop worrying about me,” she sighed, “I’m a big girl I can look after myself.”

Ryan opened the stall door and looked at her, “we can stand here and debate that while you continue to get hypothermia or we can skip that and you can come sleep in the bunkhouse.”

“Is there a way this conversation ends with me winning?” Y/n questioned from her place on the floor.

He shook his head, “if you want to be one explaining to Rip, Lloyd, Lee and your father why you didn’t take the opportunity to sleep in a warm bunk house and instead froze out here and therefore need to be taken to hospital for frostbite, be my guest sweetheart.”

“Sweetheart, huh?” She smirked at him.

Ryan rolled his eyes, “of that whole thing that’s what you took away, y/n?  Get your ass out of that stall.”

“It’s almost tempting to keep this going to see how you’ll react but I am starting to lose feeling in my toes,” she relented, “but you’re gonna have to pull me off the floor.”

He chuckled but stepped into the stall nonetheless.  Y/n held her hand out to him expectantly and he took it, effortlessly pulling her from the floor into him  They stood there for a moment, chests pressed against each other and his hand still in her cold one.  Even with the numerous blankets around her shoulders, Ryan could still see her shivering.  Y/n could feel the warmth from his hand spreading up her arm and gasped at the feeling of it.  She didn’t dare break his gaze, staring deep into his blue eyes.

Comanche snorted, dragging them out of their bubble and back to the reality that was the cold Montana night.  Ryan dropped her hand and wordlessly exited the stall.  Y/n stood there, blinking dumbly before she collected her thoughts and followed him out of the barn.

“And just where exactly in the bunk house are you expecting me to sleep?” She asked as they stood outside the door.

He smiled at her, “honestly for someone so smart you are being incredibly thick right now.  Take my bunk and I’ll sleep on the couch.”

She followed him into the dark bunk house and allowed herself to be guided towards his bunk by a hand on her back.  Ryan watched as she shed the many blankets from around her and slid into the warmth of his bed.  Y/n gestured for him to take her blankets to the couch and he winked at her.

She allowed her eyes to follow his figure through the dark to the couch and watched as he took his boots off, placing his hat on top of them.  Once she was satisfied that he was settled, Y/n turned over to stare at the wall.  The smell of Ryan encompassed her from all sides and she couldn’t help the way every muscle in her body relaxed when she inhaled.  With warmth finally filling her bones, she allowed sleep to overcome her.

[fandomzwriterk]

Can you write about Smoke and the reader celebrating their 1 year anniversary together as a couple?

A/N: of course my friend I’ll do it! I’m in a lovey mood as well since my bf and I love playing MK1 together (rip me I play Smoke and he plays Liu Kang/Scorpion) It’s a “date” thing for us 💖

Warnings: none. Just fluff (and use of Y/N) plus Hanzo being an adorable little brother

Smokey Love

“Hey! Raiden! Toss me up there won’t ya?!”

Y/n’s eyes opened to stare at the ceiling, feeling the weight and comfort of someone sleeping next to her. The voices outside the wall were loud, the walls thin enough to hear the footsteps from feet away.

“It’s too early.” Tomas mumbled next to her

“I know but we have to get up. Come on love.”

You pulled on Tomas’ arm, holding his hand while he played dead so he could go back to sleep. Nobody, except usually Kung Lao, Raiden, Johnny, and Kenshi would be up at this hour.

“Love, come on, get up. Kuai is looking for us.”

“Fineeeeee.”

Tomas was not a morning person, he’d much prefer laying the day away with you in his arms or maybe even made her something to eat. But today, today was different, and you had something planned.

“My sweet I need to find Liu Kang. He’s been wanting to speak to me about something.”

Tomas sat up, rubbing his eyes was a yawn. He had been to bed late, way later than usual. Maybe that was because of his brother, or maybe it was because of Hanzo, the little boy who lived with you all at the Shirai Ryu.

“I’ll be back dear.”

So you walked out the door, throwing over a grey and white kimono quickly, making sure to look presentable for Kuai and his wife Harumi. Apparently, they had a plan for you and Tomas for today.

“Y/n!”

Little Hanzo came running down the hall, almost colliding with you, almost making you stumble. He was happy to see you, maybe that was because Hanzo either saw you as a big sister or maybe even a mom.

“Good morning Hanzo how did you sleep?”

His smile was wide, his eyes shining with that childlike joy as if he got the best news ever. He was a kid, and he’d even said Kuai and Tomas were like his older brothers. Finally, Tomas wasn’t the youngest, at least that’s what everyone kept joking about.

“Oh I had the best dream! It was me and Scorpion and Smoke and we went on an adventure. You were there too! And we fought some bad guys. You and Smoke were so strong! Scorpion was too, but not as strong as you Miss Y/n!”

Hanzo was bright for his age, very determined to do right by everyone living at the Shirai Ryu. Even you would forget that he’s still a kid, but his childhood ended when he became an orphan, so the four of you decided to try and make his life easier.

“Hanzo are you bothering Y/n again?”

Harumi appeared from another room, dressed in comfortable clothes but similar to a warriors outfit like when she goes off into battle.

���The boys woke you up again?” She teased

“When do they not?”

You both laughed, remembering how young Raiden and Kung Lao were too. Not that much younger than you, but the two of them were like children. And what were they doing at this very second? Oh that’s right they were helping Johnny shoot something on the roof.

“Now you see here gentlemen if I can do this properly and have Raiden shoot me with lightning, then it’ll look like he pushed me off.”

“This is stupid Johnny.”

“Come on Kenshi this is genius!”

“You two are the stupidest guys I have ever had the pleasure of knowing.”

Kung Lao and Johnny wanted to do whatever this was, meanwhile Kenshi and Raiden were not on board.

“Hey! You four! You better not let me catch you slacking!” Harumi yelled at the four men

Their heads perked up, immediately running the opposite direction, back to wherever the other initiates were.

“Boys will be boys I guess.”

“At least Kuai is more well behaved than them.”

“Not when his brother is messing with him.”

Some time later…

Madam Bo’s restaurant was a relaxing idea for a dinner between the five of you. Of course you brought Hanzo along, he’s your family too! Just two couples on an evening out with a kid as well. Hanzo was well behaved out, but maybe that’s because he’s shy in unfamiliar places, but he didn’t bother you and your friends tonight.

“So… how is the search for Bi Han?”

“Not great. Every time I get close, I suddenly lose him.”

“It’s alright Kuai I’m sure we’ll find him again someday.”

Kuai just nodded, sitting next to Harumi while you and Tomas sat across from them. Hanzo was with Raiden and Kung Lao somewhere in the restaurant playing around.

“Speaking of which… how is he going to take it that… you know all four of us are in charge?”

Harumi was right. Now that Bi Han was gone, that left Kuai in charge and Tomas second behind him. Bi Han wasn’t considered Grandmaster anymore, that title now going to Kuai instead.

“We’ll be right here to protect you both. He’s never going to lay a finger on either of you.”

“You both are Ladies to the two Masters of the Shirai Ryu. It’d be a death sentence if anyone would put a hand on either of you.”

“Plus it’s our duties as not only your husbands, but as leaders to protect you both from harm.”

Oh yeah did I forget to mention you’re married? Well I guess you know now. But yes, you’ve been married to Tomas for about half of the time Kuai has been married to Harumi.

“But what if he comes back and tries to kill you two? What are we going to do then?”

Tomas grabbed your hand, holding it tight as it laid resting on the table, Kuai holding Harumi close as well. You stared into Tomas’ grey-blue eyes, those same eyes you’ve come to love staring into whenever you wanted, getting lost in them as you felt his presence next to you.

“I swore to you Y/n that I would love you and protect you, no matter the cost. I made an oath on that day you said yes to being my wife that I would never let anyone hurt you. I’m never going to let my brother hurt you, not ever.”

His grip was tight, his thumb running over the small silver ring you wore. You could see his, almost invisible on his hand with how much grey he wore, but you knew your husband’s ring was there, never coming off as long as he lived.

“Miss Y/n! I have something for you!” Hanzo said cheerfully as he slowly walked up the stairs to the four of you

Raiden and Kung Lao walked behind him, supporting what looked like a massive cake in Hanzo’s hands as he slowly made his way to the table. With the help of both older men, Hanzo slowly put it on the table and pushed it towards you and Tomas.

“Happy Anniversary Y/n and Tomas!”

You both smiled at the little boy, Raiden and Kung Lao ruffling his hair as Kuai and Harumi giggled between themselves. You looked to Tomas, seeing him smile and a twinkle in his eye that wasn’t there before.

“I’ve never seen you smile like that before Tommy.”

His face changed quickly, his cheeks red and the tips of his ears dark red as well.

“Y/n don’t call me that in front of my brother!”

And you couldn’t help but laugh as Hanzo, Raiden, and Kung Lao sat to down celebrate a very special evening for you and your husband, almost forgetting with all the chaos from Bi Han leaving months ago.

“I love you Tomas.”

“And I love you Y/n.” He answered giving you a quick kiss

A/N: ohhhhhh my gawdddd anyways I hope you enjoyed! I forgot to say this and I just remembered now but if there’s ever a oneshot or request that you think needs a part 2 or continuation, then I’ll do it considering how much I have to keep cutting to fit in these posts. Hope you like it!

[thoughtfullyrainynightmare]

Hiii I LOVE YOUR WRITING💓💓

I'm a huge Yami simp and id like to request a fic where Yami is struggling to but trying his best to quit smoking cuz his s/o is pregnant? (Bonus: all the black bulls pitch in to help him quit)

Could you please make it Cute but funny too ?

Hiya! Thank you!!! ^^

Oh this was so fun to write, and I hope that you find it cute and funny!

Pairing: Yami Sukehiro x gn!reader (reader is afab) Ft. The Black Bulls Genre: fluff, comdey, slice of life Fanfic type: Oneshot Warnings: references to reader being pregnant, Yami says the "I'll kill you", canon compliant Length: ~0.8k

It had been a couple of weeks since you had told him that you were pregnant. And he had been absolutely over the moon.

At least after he had come down from the happy shock that he had been in, because he could barely have believed it. He could barely have comprehended all the emotions swirling in him, ranging from bliss, through happiness, to fear of being good enough of a father, since there was a small part of him that was terrified of him not being even a decent father since he had had no good role model of his own while growing up. Though someone could have argued that he had gotten a kind of practice with watching after the Bulls.

But that was different. It had been more like… being an uncle. Or just a father figure. But being a father figure wasn’t the same as being a father. So, he was worried.

He was worried about being good enough. For you and your child. Because he did want to be. He wanted to be a good father, and he’d be damned if he didn’t try to surpass his own limits in this too. Though there wasn’t really a limit there to begin with, rather than simply trying to be the very best version of himself that he could be.

Which didn’t stop his nerves from being stretched during those first few weeks, because of which he took a cigarette break whenever he could; consuming even more packs a day than before.

But the thing was: he didn’t want to make you inhale the smoke. Or the baby. Which is why he always needed to go outside, far enough from you, so that there’d be no damage.

And he hated having to step away from next to you. Granted that you were still as capable as you were before the pregnancy, since you were so early into it that even the baby bump wasn’t visible. There wasn’t pregnancy cravings or morning sickness just yet, let alone trouble walking or picking up things… Not that he wanted you to be doing any heavy lifting in the first place.

Still. He hated being away from you. And so frequently.

So. Something needed to be done. And that something was to quit smoking.

Going cold turkey would be difficult. But doable. And he figured that it’d be best to get out of the way quickly, so going cold turkey would be what he’d do.

However, to do that he’d need help. Which is why he called a meeting with the Bulls one morning.

“Listen up you buggers,” he said while standing there with his arms crossed. “Your next mission is to help me quit smoking. So, if any of you catch me with a cigarette, or a pack of them, your job is to take it from me.”

Magna raised up his hand. “Can we use anything to do it?”

“Yeah. And if you don’t, I’ll kill ya.”

“You’ll threaten to kill us if we don’t give them to you just as you’ll threaten to kill us if we fail to keep them from you,” Nero pointed out with a monotone voice from the corner.

“I’ll kill you harder if you give them to me.”

“So we get to fight you?” Luck’s eyes sparkled.

“Let’s help Captain Yami!” Asta cheered, being the one to, perhaps, be mots eager to do this, while the hesitance of others was mostly caused by fear of how …ferocious their Captain could be.

But. They would help of course. And they would have done so even if it hadn’t been assigned as a mission.

During the next few weeks, the only one who dared to approach Yami was you, because though his nerves were thin as a hair, you were the only one to whom he not as much as scoffed. Not as much as squinted his eyes.

While for the rest…

“HAND THEM OVER OR I SWEAR I’LL KILL YOU!!” Was heard from the distance.

The sound of an explosion.

“Luck! Catch!”

“HAHAHHAHAAA!”

“Rouge!”

“Captain Yami! Think about your health!”

“Seadragon’s Roar!”

“The basement will flood again…”

And meanwhile, you listened to the commotion, giggling to yourself. Because though it was difficult now, Yami would grow out of his smoking habit. You were certain of it. After all, you, and him, had the help of everyone. And after some time, the challenges would change to other kinds.

But you’d still do your best to enjoy the journey, which was quite easy in the grand scheme of things. Quite simply because you were happy, right there and then, with the life you lived.

[apolloscastellan]

Our field of dreams, engulfed in fire | loss of my life chapter three

Pairing: Art Donaldson x Tashi Duncan x Patrick Zweig x FemaleTennisPlayer!reader

Summary: Your life had always been divided in two: before you met Tashi and after you met Tashi. The second you had laid eyes on her for the first time you knew you had been changed. You were soulmates, meant for each other Nothing could ever tear you two apart, or so you had thought. You could've pinpointed the junior U.S. Open as the night that changed everything. Now you have to juggle your hate-love relationship with tennis with your love-love relationship with Tashi and the two guys who you can't seem to stay away from. Tennis, after all, was only one of the most fucked up relationships of your life.

Warnings: challengers spoiler, challengers content warnings, super minor character death, terrible mother figure, use of y/n, polyamory.

Word count: 7.9K

A/N: sorry this took a little longer than usual, I was at the beach. This chapter is a little longer so! Let me know your thoughts! <3

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University of California, Berkeley. September 9, 2006:

“What are you doing next weekend?” Art’s voice comes through your phone, propped up on your table as you get ready to go out.

“I don’t know, we still have weekends free, at least until December, but I’ll probably go hit with some of the girls, catch up on homework, you know, the usual.”

“What if I drove up on Friday and took you out? Maybe spend a couple days with you?” He tries his best to not let his voice tremble. 

He shouldn’t be this nervous, you’ve been his girlfriend for almost two months now, he has nothing to worry about. He had asked you to be his girlfriend one of the many late nights you had spent on the phone with each other, talking about nothing for hours just to keep hearing the other’s voice. It had been sweet, his voice almost giving up from nerves when he asked you if you would, maybe, like to be his girlfriend. His heart stopping for a second when you answered that you had been waiting for him to ask. Still, he can’t help but feel on edge as he poses the question. You haven’t seen each other much since the junior open, which means that you haven’t seen each other at all, not for lack of trying. It’s not that the phone calls are not good enough, they had been perfect to make him fall for you. But he misses you, and he wants to see you. He just hopes you want to see him just as badly.

“Oh my God, are you kidding?” It is almost too good to be true. “Don’t you have practice?”

“Well our coach is giving us Friday free because he is going to his daughter’s dance recital. And I have been doing well with school, which means that I can probably work ahead and have nothing for the weekend. I thought you might want to see me.”

“Are you kidding? Of course I’d love to see you. You can stay with me too, because my roommate will be out of town. Oh my God, this is perfect!” you can’t contain your excitement.

“Ok, it’s settled then.”

––––––––––––––––

You are still in practice when Art pulls into campus. You always stay over with one or two of your teammates, getting some extra reps in. He walks over to the tennis courts, too excited to be apprehensive. He leans on the side of the bleachers, not wanting to distract you. You are in your practice uniform, covered in blue from head to toe, california gold in your shoelaces and the logo on your chest. You look adorable, if Art says so himself. One of the other girls spots him first, pointing to him. You turn around immediately, Art cannot be worried about you giving yourself whiplash because before he can process what’s happening you’re jumping on him, hugging him with your entire body.

“You’re here” you say, out of breath.

“I missed you so much. You’ve tanned!” he says, pulling back to look into your eyes.

“That’s what the California sun will do to you,- sir. Well, not you, clearly” you tease him, giving him a once over.

You pull him by his t-shirt, without hesitation, unable to wait a second longer to kiss him. He reacts quickly, cradling your face with his hands and returning the kiss.

“I’ll go grab my bag and we can go. I need to grab a shower before we go to dinner” he nods, too out of breath from the kiss to think of a reasonable reply.

He watches you run over to your bag and pick it up, while your teammates laugh and whistle at you, giving you shit for the very public display of affection. You bat them off, waving goodbye at them as you make your way over back to Art. He takes your bag from you as soon as you are close enough to do so. You try to protest but there’s no use. He wraps his other arm around your shoulders and lets you lead him to your dorm room. He thinks there’s no way he could ever be happier than he is right now.

––––––––––––––––

Art lays on your bed while you shower. He calls Patrick to get himself entertained, not willing to think too much about how you are barely a wall away, showering. He has made reservations, he doesn’t want to miss them.

“Yeah we have our first preseason matches in…”

He cuts himself off as he sees you walking out the bathroom. Your hair is still wet, falling on your shoulders in soft waves and you are wearing a dress you should have never been allowed to wear, for his own sanity. Patrick yells in his ear, asking him if he’s ok, but he is too busy getting lost in you to notice.

“Who are you talking to?” You wonder, your voice finally snapping him off his trance.

“Oh, It’s Patrick.”

“Hey Patrick!” you yell, as you put on your heels.

“Tell her hello and that I miss her” Patrick calls, from the other side of the line.

“Patrick says hi” he says, instead.

“Can you put it on speaker?” he does as you say, intrigued as to what you have to say to his best friend. “Pat you need to text me back, I have to talk to you.”

“Sorry doll, I haven’t been on my phone much, I’ll check as soon as I hang up.” 

You nod, satisfied with his answer. You turn around to grab one of the purses in your closet.

“What do you need to talk to him for?” Art asks, Patrick still on the phone.

“Oh, just Tashi stuff, you know. It’s really not that important, don’t worry about it. Now, say goodnight to your boyfriend, we’re going to be late.”

––––––––––––––––

The restaurant that Art picks for your dinner is on the fancier side. It’s technically your first date, your second, if you count that night at the hotel, but there were too many people for him to count it. So it’s your first official date, and he wants to impress you. It’s a little crazy, how much you both know about each other without having really gone out together once. You don’t look even slightly out of place as you follow the waiter to your table and ask for what you want. He knows you have grown up very wealthy, probably as wealthy as Patrick, if not more. It only makes him want to work harder, to be better. He tells himself he is going to be great, to give you the life you deserve.

“I can’t believe you know how I sound when I’m about to fall asleep but you’ve never taken me out. I have to step up my game before you think I’m easy” you say, mirroring exactly what he was thinking.

“Well, seeing as you made out with me and my best friend the first night you met us, I think we’re a little bit past me thinking you’re easy” the laughter bubbles out of you unexpectedly, slightly too loud for the place you are in.

“You’re a dick, you know that?” but you don’t mean it.

You didn’t expect him to bring it up at all. You expected him to act as if it had never happened, like you had done every single time you spoke on the phone. You don’t mind it, you realize. You are still smiling when they bring out your food. You thank the waiter and wait politely until he leaves before diving into your plate.

“Don’t get me wrong, I am mostly excited that you are here and I would be satisfied with  rotting in bed with you all weekend, but this is such a wonderful break from dining hall meals.”

“Don’t you ever order in? Or go out?”

“I mean, sometimes my teammates will invite me, but no, not really.”

“Why?”

“Well my scholarship gives me 200 dollars a month for miscellaneous expenses, but I’m trying to save for when I either graduate or drop out to go pro. I’ll have to pay for coaches and other stuff so I want to be ready.”

“I thought your mum was really into you playing tennis, why is she not helping?” the smile drops off your face as soon as those words leave his mouth, he regrets it immediately, wants to take it back, but it’s too late.

“My mum and I, we.. We’re not on speaking terms right now” you realize how vague that is and sigh, encouraging yourself to just tell him, he is your boyfriend, he deserves to know. “By that I mean that I cut contact with her. I haven’t spoken to her since the summer.”

“That’s why you said yes to Berkeley” everything made sense in his head now. He put his hand on the table, palm facing upwards, there if you wanted to take it, which you did immediately. Then, with the softest voice he could muster he asked, “Can I ask why? You don’t have to tell me, but I would love to know.”

You bring your hands together, as your right hand starts to play with the ring on your left, rolling it around your finger. You know you need to tell him. You want to tell him, you want to share this part of you and your life with your boyfriend. You want to show him that you trust him

“My mum used to be a tennis player, when she was younger. She was great. She was this amazing up and comer, beat some of the biggest names really early in her career. She was supposed to be the greatest player in history, but then… She met my dad, and she got pregnant with me. It was a complicated pregnancy and she could never play again, not like she used to. So she resented me and my dad. The only reason she stayed with him was because he was very wealthy, and she had nothing for herself except her failed tennis career. And then she realized I could fulfill that failed career, so I became her project. I had half her genetics, so it was a given to her that I’d be good. I stopped being her daughter, I was just her little tennis star. That was all our relationship was about, tennis.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry baby” he squeezes your hand, then asks gently,  “What about your dad?”

“He was great, he… He died. I was eight. He gave me this ring” you say, showing him the ring you had been playing with all night. “It's my most prized possession.”

When you look back at Art he looks so sad you want to take it all back, say that you were joking, that you love your parents and everything is ok. You hate being this vulnerable, hate people feeling sorry for you. You hate feeling like a burden. You hate making a big deal of things that you’ve accepted, that you’ve already grieved. Somehow, Art has the perfect thing to say.

“It is a gorgeous ring” he whispers as he examines it under the restaurant’s lights trying very hard not to think about giving you a ring in a much different context, now is not the time.

“Yeah…” you hesitate for a second, debating whether or not you should say what you are thinking, but the boy in front of you looks into your eyes in a way that makes you believe you could do anything, so you continue, “I don’t want you to pretend I never told you any of this. There’s a reason why I told you, I wanted you to know, but can we move on and have fun? I don’t wanna spend the three days you’re here talking through my trauma.”

Art smiles, and you know everything is going to be ok. You feel a weight lift off your chest

as he launches off into a story about one of his new teammates falling down the stairs. You laugh, the guy is fine. It feels good to be honest. it’s not like you had been purposefully trying to keep secrets, but having things out in the open and knowing that Art doesn’t think any differently of you makes you feel much lighter.

––––––––––––––––

You stumble into your dorm room slightly tipsy, hands in Art’s hair. You fall backwards on your bed, giggling, Art following right after, settling on top of you. You stop him with a hand on his chest when he sneaks his hands under your dress, brushing dangerously close to your panties.

“I’ve never… I’m not… I’m a virgin.”

Your words seem to sober him up immediately. He backs up, sitting at the end of your bed. His eyes are wide open, his pupils blown. You follow him, sitting right in front of him.

“We don’t have to… If you’re not ready, I mean, I don’t want you to think this is the only reason why I came because it’s not true and…” you interrupt him by crushing your lips against his again.

“I want to, I really do. I want it to be you, I just thought you should know.”

“Okay” he says, out of breath, then lets you kiss him again.

You get rid of each other’s clothes slowly. He starts with your dress, gasping as it lowers to reveal a matching set of lingerie you had bought for the night. You take off his polo and he eagerly helps you take off his pants. It’s frantic but tender. He kisses you in every spot he can reach, holds your hand as he pushes in for the first time. He whispers sweet praises in your ear, and you tell him how good it feels. You warn him when you’re about to come, he smiles, burying himself on your neck and sucking a mark low enough for it to be covered by a shirt. He follows right after you, coming with moans of your name in his lips. You lay next to each other, tangled in the bedsheets and a feeling neither of you is brave enough to name. He cuddles up to you, hands in your body, legs intertwined.

“That was… Wow” you whisper.

“I know,” he says right back.

“I’m glad it was you” like it’s a secret.

“Me too” he’s never meant anything more, that’s it until the next words fall off his lips. “I love you.”

But you are already asleep, too tired by the day to keep your eyes open for another second. It’s ok, he can say it again in the morning, and repeat it over and over again, for the rest of his life. He falls asleep shortly after, dreaming of the rest of his life, you by his side.

New Rochelle, New York. August 24, 2019:

Art Donaldson: 2-0-0

Patrick Zweig: 6-0-0

Both Patrick and Art are shirtless by the time Tashi comes back. As soon as she has sat down two young girls come up to her. She is kind, taking pictures with them and making conversation. You can’t help but feel sad to see people congratulating her on her job with Art. They should be impressed by her own game, the way she moves on the court, not the one she was able to force onto her husband. The all too familiar pang of guilt settles on your chest. When they turn to look at you, they are almost shaking. You will never stop being surprised that people recognize and admire you. 

“Hi Ms. Y/l/n, could we get a picture with you? We are really big fans.”

“Of course, but please call me Y/n” you say, as you flash the camera your brightest smile. “Plus, I should tell you, it's Zweig now.”

“No way!” they both screech, excited. 

You and Patrick had gotten married earlier that year. it had been a small, incredibly intimate wedding, just you, the officiant and a couple of friends to act as witnesses. You had planned to announce it in Roland Garros, having them announce you both as Zweig. However, Patrick’s injury had kind of put a damper on that, so not many people knew about it. You hadn’t even announced your engagement, the few interested people had figured it out when he started wearing your ring in his finger and you started wearing a different one. Although you are still going to be announced as the Zweigs in the U.S Open you figure there’s no harm in people knowing beforehand. Although he had a flare for the dramatics, neither of you cared much about making a spectacle of your private lives. Which is the sole reason why you aren’t millionaires yet.

“Can I ask you a question?” the younger-looking girl asks, almost shy.

You nod inmediately, flashing her a comforting smile

“Why do you only play doubles? You are so good!”

“Well I enjoy playing doubles a lot more, the singles life wasn’t really for me. Plus, I think I’ve always played my best tennis with a partner.”

Tashi scoffs next to you, playing it off by looking down at her phone. There’s no way you actually believe that, that you are better playing with Patrick Fucking Zweig than on your own. By yourself, with a good coach, you could have been the best tennis player in history, breaking every single record in the book. Hell, your first three years competing you had won a career Grand Slam. Until you had rekindled your flame with Patrick and given up on everything you had ever dreamed of.

You ignore her, continuing to chat with the two girls until the umpire calls for the second set to start. You look at Patrick and smile at him. He grins right back before standing up and taking his position on the court.

Stanford University, California. February 23, 2007:

You can’t contain your excitement as the bus pulls into Stanford. As always, you get there in the morning, with time to spare so all of you can do your own thing and not have cramped up legs from the bus. Usually, you and a couple other teammates explore whatever college you are playing. However, you’ve made it clear to everyone that you would be unavailable, too busy catching up with your best friend and your boyfriend to bother exploring. Plus, it’s not like it was your first time in Stanford. You spot Tashi as you walk down the steps of the bus. Immediately, you drop all your bags, making a beeline to hug her. She runs towards you too, meeting you in the middle. You sway back and forth, too happy to say anything. Then, you pull away. You’re both smiling, but her smile doesn’t really reach her eyes.

“Do you think Patrick is in love with me?” is the first thing out of her mouth.

“What?”

“Do you think Patrick is in love with me? I know you talk to him, I'm not an idiot. Has he said anything about it?”

“Ok, so no ‘hello’? No ‘I missed you’?” that seems to snap her off, she closes her eyes, rubbing her face with her hands.

“I’m sorry, you're right” she says, hugging you again. “I missed you, how was the trip?”

“Not horrible, I slept the entire way through so…” you can tell she is not fully into the conversation, so you pick up your bags and interlace one of your arms around one of hers. “Ok, take me to your dorm. We can talk then.”

Catching up and silly banter can wait. If Tashi needs you, then you’re going to be there for her.

––––––––––––––––

It’s not the first time you’ve been to Tashi’s dorm, but it feels different. You don’t take in the books, or the pictures of the two of you on the wall, you just look at her.

“Ok, so what’s this thing you were telling me, about Patrick being in love with you? Why are you asking me?”

“I had lunch with Art the other day. He had extra lunch credits or something like that. He was being a little bitch. He said he was shocked we were still together?”

“He said that?” Tashi nods.

“Yeah so i kept pressing because the was being all coy and mysterious after saying that, like, what the hell? And then he just said that Patrick is not in love with me.” She looks back at you, clearly fuming. “So, what do you think?”

“Well I… I don’t know Patrick as well as Art, but he always seems to care a lot about you whenever I talk to him. You are literally 80% of what our conversations are about.”

“Do you think he’s seeing other girls on tour?”

“No” you say immediately, completely sure of your answer. “Poor guy’s actually losing for the first time in his life, he's traveling on his own and he is trying to juggle a long distance relationship and two long distance friendships. I promise you he has no time to fuck other girls.”

“He never talks about his feelings…” she groans, you can’t help but laugh.

“Pot, meet kettle” she looks back at you, unimpressed. “Look, he is getting here in what, an hour? Less? Just talk to him. I know it’s hard but it’s the only way to know what he’s thinking. Be honest with each other!”

She launches herself into you, making you fall backwards onto her bed.

“I hate when you’re right.”

“I know you do. Now, sleep, you need to be well rested so I can beat your ass later.” 

That finally pulls a smile from Tashi’s face. You close your eyes and smile, satisfied that you were able to make her feel better. You can only hope she follows your advice.

––––––––––––––––

You get woken up by incessant knocking on the door. You and Tashi are still tangled on the bed, your head now laying on her chest.

“Tashi!” you hear Art’s voice through the door. “I have something for you in exchange for my girlfriend!”

You go to stand up, but Tashi pulls you back against her, shushing you when you make a startled noise.

“If we don’t make any noise, they’ll think we’re not here and leave.”

However, the knocking on the door doesn’t stop.

“Y/n told me when you guys were, I’m not leaving without her. Open the door.”

“Sorry” you wince, standing up.

You don’t bother making yourself look presentable, yanking the door open as soon as you are close enough. The sight of the two boys standing there knocks the breath out of you. You don’t have time to process it because as soon as he sees you, Art is enveloping you with his arms, lifting you from the ground and kissing you.

“Ok, let her go now, man, you’re going to squeeze her to death” Patrick interrupts, pulling Art back from you and taking a step forward to hug you. “How are you doing doll? I missed you.”

“Look at you” you smile at him. “You’re getting buffed.”

The both of you laugh. When you look back at Art he has an unreadable expression in his face, lips pressed against each other, eyes fixed on you.

“Well, your girl is inside, probably back asleep, so me and Art are going to take our leave” you say, pulling his arm so he’s walking with you.

It’s only when you’ve made it back to his room and you’re sitting on his lap, facing him, that you dare bring Tashi up. You take your own advice, communication is the only way to go about things.

“Why did you tell Tashi that Patrick wasn’t in love with her?” you ask.

He looks a little confused at first. Then, realization dawns upon him.

“I don’t know, I thought she deserved to know?”

“Is it true then? Does he feel anything for her?”

“I don’t know. We’re boys, we don’t really talk about this stuff, you know us.”

“Why would you tell her, then? Why would you say something to her you don’t even know if it’s true? What were you hoping to accomplish?” you try not to raise your voice but it’s getting progressively harder.

“Why are we fighting about their relationship right now? Why do we care?”

“That’s a good question, Art, why do you care?” you say, standing up from where you were perched on his lap and sitting on his desk chair. “Why did you get involved?”

“You’re one to talk! You’re constantly talking to Patrick about it!”

“That’s different, I’m not trying to get into his head. I just ask because I care. Plus, Patrick is my friend, we don’t only talk about Tashi.”

“Well, maybe Tashi is my friend! Maybe I was asking because I care.”

“What about Patrick? Do you care about Patrick?”

“Patrick is my best friend, of course I care about him!”

“Well you’re not acting like it!” you yell.

“If you care so much about Patrick maybe you should be his girlfriend, then!” he shouts back.

You stop, he does too. He stands up, takes a step towards you. You stand up too, but you take a step back.

“Y/n… I didn’t…”

“I don’t have time to do this right now. I have a game in an hour, I need to go get ready” you say, walking towards the door, you turn around to look at him before you leave. “We’ll talk about this later. See you at the game?”

He nods, of course he is still going to your game. Then, afterwards, he is going to apologize, and all four of you will go to dinner. And everything will be ok.

––––––––––––––––

You think it’s strange, how Tashi doesn’t even look at you when you two step into the court, facing one another. Something is wrong. As the two number ones on your team you were going against one another first. You had won your first match, a doubles one. Tashi doesn’t play doubles, so this is the first time she is stepping onto the court. You look to the bleachers and spot Art immediately, sitting alone. Patrick is nowhere to be seen. You look back at your best friend, who is still frowning and refusing to meet your eye. You think she might just be in the zone, that she has developed a new game face in college. It’s still unsettling when she doesn’t smile at you before she gets ready to serve.

It is clear that she is angry the second she hits the ball. She is too good to have no precision, but it’s obvious that her focus is on the strength of the hit, rather than where she is trying to send it. It’s obvious to you thar she is not in the right mindset. She should be wiping the floor with you, because you have already played a set when she just stepped out of the locker rooms, but, somehow, you’re winning. It’s throwing you off. You’ve played with and against Tashi a million times, enough to know her game like the back of your hand and this, it’s not it. She’s playing well, but it’s not her.

That’s when it happens, you backhand the ball onto the opposite side of the court she is standing on. She is not prepared to hit it there, but she runs towards the ball anyways. She’s about to hit her when she collapses on the ground. She falls like a piece of paper blown by the wind. In a second, she is on her back, screaming for her life.

You jump over the net immediately, not caring about conduct, or rules or anything that’s not getting to Tashi as soon as possible. You couch down next to her, reaching your hand to try and rub her arm, trying to comfort her. She is screaming at you as soon as she identifies that it’s you touching her.

“Get the fuck away from me! This is all your fault!”

You don’t know what to do. You pull back, your breath catching. Art is on your side in a second. He pats your back, telling you he will go with Tashi to the hospital so she won’t be alone, that he’ll keep you updated. He probably says something else, tries to reassure you. You don’t remember. You run away from the courts as soon as you get the nod from your coach. You don’t have any more matches, and it’s not like you could play in your state, even if you did.

When Patrick finds you, you’re rolled up in an empty corner of campus. He is crying, but you don’t notice because he dries away his tears when he hears the heart wrenching sobs coming from your body. He is next to you in a second, one hand on your back. You feel it, but you can’t recognize his voice. You jerk away, breathing erratically. It feels like you’re about to die.

“Hey, hey, Y/n, it’s me. It’s Patrick. Can you hear me?” he doesn’t really know what to do, you’re still shaking, but you nod, so he places a hand on your shoulder and keeps talking. “It’s ok, you’re ok. You’re not dying, I promise. Everything is ok.”

He looks around, wondering if anyone is coming. Maybe Art, a nurse, or even a random student, anyone could do a much better job at calming you down than him. But he doesn’t see anybody. He grabs your hand and places it on his chest.

“Can you feel my breathing? Can you try to copy me?” you nod as he over acts his breathing motions.

Slowly, you start breathing calmer again. You’re still crying, but your vision becomes a little bit less cloudy and you don’t feel like you’re dying anymore. You finally recognize the boy in front of you and you launch yourself into his arms immediately. He is shocked, but he wraps his arms around you  anyways.

“I ruined her career. It’s her knee, probably ACL, she’s never going to play at the same level again. I ruined her career like I ruined my mum’s and now she hates me and…”

“Hey, hey” Patrick says when he feels your breathing grow erratic again. “You’re gonna get yourself worked up again. Do you have somewhere to stay?” he asks, trying to stir away the conversation from the accident, for his own sake as much as yours.

You shake your head, still burrowed in his shoulder.

“I told my coach I’d spend the night with Tashi, they didn’t book me a room.”

“Ok, what about this, I’ll take you to my room, you can shower and spend the night there. And tomorrow, when everyone is calmer, we can talk again.”

––––––––––––––––

You call Tashi a million times, each of them going straight to voicemail. You feel like that’s impersonal, so you hang up and you try again. She is out of surgery, you know that because of the updates Art has texted you. He doesn’t say anything else, doesn’t ask how or where you are, so you don’t tell him. You give up after an hour of trying to reach Tashi, and you record a voicemail.

“Hey, Tash. I know that you’re mad at me, and I’m really sorry. I just want to know how you are. Everything is going to be ok, and I’ll be here every step of the way. That’s all I want you to know. That I’m here. You’re my best friend and I love you. I’m really sorry Tashi. Please call me back.”

The next time you try to call, it says the number doesn’t exist. You cry in the bathroom, and you’re very grateful that Patrick pretends he doesn’t hear you. Art stops replying. You feel like you just lost the two most important people in your life, you don’t know how to cope.

––––––––––––––––

When Patrick wakes up the next morning, you’re gone. On his bedside table there’s a note.

“Dear Patrick,

Thank you so much for all you did for me last night. I decided to leave on the bus this morning with the team instead of staying for the weekend like I planned. It’s obvious that neither Art nor Tashi want me around and I dont have the extra money to stay around if that’s what it’s going on. I hope I’ll see you around!

Y/n”

You get an email three weeks later. An offer for an Adidas sponsorship and a campaign. The news of your dropping out and going pro go public three weeks later. Patrick doesn’t call, you don’t either.

New Rochelle, New York. August 24, 2019:

Art Donaldson: 2-3-15

Patrick Zweig: 6-1-0

Like you expected, Patrick got cocky, and now Art is slowly making his way back. It’s what he is best at, waiting for Patrick to fuck up, then making his move. Patrick reaches for the ball, it goes past him.

“Out!” he calls, immediately.

“Thirty, Love” the umpire announces.

You see Patrick turn around, shock and anger written all over his face.

“That was out! That was way out!”

“The ball was called in.”

Patrick turns around, looking at the line judge.

“Are you blind?”

You want to yell at him, tell him to get his shit together like you do when you’re on the court next to him. Unfortunately, you can’t do that from where you are, so you just watch helplessly. The Umpire warns him again but he doesn’t let up.

“Are you here to do your job or are you just excited that Art Donaldson is over there?

“”I’m going to give you a code violation if you don’t stop this.”

You know he’s not about to stop. Patrick doesn’t give up like that. He pushes and pushes and doesn’t let up. So you know it’s coming.

“Hey Art!” he yells across the net. “This lady wants your autograph!”

“Code violation. Unsportsmanlike conduct. Verbal abuse. Point penalty, Zweig.”

You roll your eyes but you’re not shocked. Without you down there to settle him, it was only a matter of time.

“Is this how you wanna get your points?” he calls towards Art again.

“I’m ready to serve, Patrick.”

“Yeah, I bet you are.”

You sigh at the telltale sign that he is done. He is finally letting it go. He settles back, ready to play again.

“Forty, Love” the umpire says through the speaker.

Art serves.

Manhattan, New York. March 15, 2010:

You’re at one of those galas Adidas keeps insisting you need to attend when you see him. You’re standing to the side in a long maroon dress, trying to go unnoticed. He is on the snack table, stuffing his mouth almost embarrassingly. His suit is a little small on him, a little crumbled up. He has his back towards you and he looks a little different, but you would recognize him anywhere. You have missed him too much to let the pang of guilt on your chest stop you from walking over to him.

“Patrick” you say, tapping his shoulder twice, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.

He freezes, then turns around. His mouth wide open with no regards for the food he just stuffed there. He closes his mouth, swallows, then blinks a couple times. Like he is trying to fiigure out if you’re really there or if he’s making it up.

“Y/n?” he asks, you nod. “What are you doing here? Oh my God, you look gorgeous!” his arms wrap around your shoulders, yours make their way around his waist.

“This is a brand event for my sponsors, what are you doing here?”

“Oh, it’s an Adidas event? I had no idea. To be perfectly honest I snuck in, but don’t tell anyone.”

“They have security on the door, how the hell did you sneak in?”

“I am pretty charming.”

You are out of breath just by looking at him. It’s been three years.

“Hey, do you want to get out of here? I’ve done my appearance and I can’t stand this anymore. I’ll get you dinner.”

He was going to say yes without you offering to buy him food, disregarding completely the reason why he is here in the first place. The offer of food just sweetens the deal.

“Yes, let’s go, right now” his eagerness makes you laugh, it reminds you of that first night.

––––––––––––––––

You and Patrick sit in a booth across from each other, too overdressed for the shitty restaurant on the side of the road you’ve ended up in. 

“So… Are you going to tell me why you’re going around sneaking into brand events in a shitty suit and trying to eat all their food?”

He almost chokes on the sip of water he was drinking. It shouldn’t shock him, the way you read him immediately and how you have no qualms on making your thoughts known. However, he hoped he would have a little more time before he had to explain his shitty life to you. It’s a little intimidating, you have everything and you look gorgeous. on the other hand, he is sleeping on his car and weaning the suit he wore to his cousin’s Bar Mitzvah five years ago. You don’t relent, looking at him expectantly but letting him gather his own thoughts. Letting him speak at his own time.

“Well, if it wasn’t obvious, I’m not doing great. I haven’t won in a long time, so” he shrugs his shoulders, you’re still looking at him, not saying anything, so he keeps going, “I’m kind of living off my car and signing up to all the shitty tournaments I can make it to to gather the participation money.”

“What about your parents? Could they not help?” Patrick never talked about his parents, but it was never a secret that they were very well off.

“I haven’t talked to my parents for about as long as you haven’t talked to your mum” you nod, understanding the feeling. “Apparently, having a son like me was a disgrace.”

You frown, shaking your head rapidly.

“That’s bullshit. You’re great.”

“Yeah well, say that to them, and Art, and Tashi. And every single person who’s ever played me. They might disagree,” the self deprecation in his voice is such a stark contrast from the confident, slightly cocky guy you were friends with. “Enough about me tho, what’s up with you?”

“I wanna quit,” you say, blunt, his mouth drops open.

“You’re joking. You’re winning tournaments and slams left and right, and you haven’t even reached the peak of your career!” he knew, because he had been following you, your career, the same way he had with Art and Tashi. “You have a career Grand Slam!”

“Yeah and I already hate it,” you sigh, looking around, checking if anyone could overhear you, but the place was empty. “Every time I step into the court I feel so… Guilty. It’s like I took her career from her. This was supposed to be her, breaking records, getting slams, even the Adidas sponsorship. It’s like I took her life. I was never meant to be the one who made it.”

“Well, your mum would be proud,” his comment makes you giggle and he smiles. “Why did you go pro, then? Why didn’t you just stop playing after college?”

“I thought about it. I didn’t feel like I deserved to play after I injured her.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” he protests. 

“Well she wouldn't agree.”

“It was an accident.”

You shrug your shoulders, you know he is right, but you will never be able to let go of the guilt you feel when you think about your ex best friend. 

“I was going to quit, but after everything happened… I started failing everything. I was so alone. Tennis was the only thing I could get myself to do. It made me feel close to her, to both of them. I spent hours on the court and, somehow, everything in Berkeley reminded me of them. So when Adidas offered to sponsor me if I went pro I didn’t have to think about it. I needed to leave. And now… It pays the bills.”

“Why do you wanna quit then?”

“My name means something now, which could push me enough to open an academy or something. I could move to some rich neighborhood in New York City and spend the rest of my life making decent players out of spoiled rich girls. The only reason why I haven’t quit yet is because I was always hoping I would run into Art or Tashi at a tournament, but I’m starting to lose hope. And even if I saw either of them, I don’t think they’d speak to me at all.”

“Yeah, I know how that feels. I should probably give up too. Get a real job as a waiter or something. But… I can’t”

“‘Cause you love tennis.”

“Yeah, I do,” he nods, then looks straight into your eyes. “But you do too.”

“Yeah, but I’ve never played for myself, or by myself. I played for my mum first, then I played for Tashi. I love tennis but it’s never felt so lonely as it does now. On my own, it’s just not as fun. I love tennis because I loved playing with Tashi. Like how you loved playing with Art. There’s something about falling in love with your doubles partner, am I right?” you say, adding a humorous tone to your voice, but it’s not funny.

Patrick’s head shoots around, then turns to look at you. His mouth and eyes are wide open, the shock is written all over his face.

“How did you know…?

“About you being in love with Art? Patrick that first night, at the Junior U.S Open, it was like I was looking in a mirror. The pining, the eagerness, the awkward first experience you need to say out loud because you want to make sure it actually happened. It was almost freaky. And I’m sure you felt the same way looking back at me.”

“I mean… Yeah, me and Art both thought that you had a thing for Tashi, but then you started dating him so we just thought we had made it up. I thought you were in love with Art?”

“I was, probably still am. With both of them. My love for Tashi didn't take away anything from my love for Art, it’s something I’ve learned about myself.”

“How did you not hate me?” he asks, curious. “Because I kinda hated you a little, just a little bit. I kept flirting with you on front of Art to piss him off, which was as shitty move, thinking about it now.”

“I did hate you very slightly. I was living vicariously through the things you told me about Tashi, but to be fair, I was also quite infatuated by you so, it went away quickly,” you laugh, he does too. You don’t know where you are finding the courage to be so honest with him, but you guess you always kind of felt that way around Patrick, like you could bare your soul in front of him without fear. “I used to hope the four of us would figure it out somehow, a way to make it work. I thought Art and Tashi might have been harder to sway, but I always thought you’d agree if I ever brought it up. It doesn’t matter anymore, but…”

“I would have” he says immediately, nodding, looking at you in a way that tells you he understands you completely. “I was also quite infatuated by you.”

It should be scary to be seen so openly by someone. But with Patrick, it just feels safe.

“Have you ever thought about playing doubles?” you ask, as you’re walking back to his car.

He has offered to bring you back to your house. You are trying to gather the nerves to invite him to spend the night.

“I mean, yeah, it means more tournaments, but I am not the best team player with most people and the one guy I’d like to play with hates me, so I don’t know who I’d possibly play with.”

“What about me?” you ask, his hand stops midair, on the way to open the door of his car for you.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re not winning, and I hate playing by myself. It’s perfect. My team could manage us both, you could live with me until you get back on your feet…”

“I can’t afford your team, or to pay you rent, I couldn’t ask that of you.”

“You’re not asking, I’m offering. And you wouldn’t have to pay until we start making money. You’d be doing me a favor.”

“What about your career?”

“I don’t care! I don’t want to hate what I do for the rest of my life. I need to fall back in love with tennis. You could still play singles if you really want to, but it could be our brand. We only play mixed singles with each other. I’m sure Adidas would buy it if we sold them a love story.”

“A love story?”

You’re too confident in your idea to feel shy right now. You’ve been thinking about this since you sat down for dinner, the conversation you had only proving how good of an idea it was.

“I mean, you did say you were quite infatuated by me. And the other people we’re both in love with hate us both so… I just thought we could shoot two birds with one gun.”

“I don’t think that’s quite how the saying goes.”

“Patrick,” you warn, his refusal to acknowledge your proposal head on is making you grow more nervous by the minute.

He opens the door to his car and you jump in. He drives to your house in silence, the only noise coming from the GPS giving directions. You think that’s your answer, and you wonder if there’s a way you can come back from this, if the two of you can still be friends. You’ve missed him, after all. He parks his car in front of your house, which is not as big as he was expecting. You’re about to tell him the offer for a place to sleep is still on the table when he turns to look at you, dead serious.

“So what’s the plan, then?” 

You squeal in excitement, jumping over the console to hug him, you’ve never felt happier. You help him take his things from the back of his car to your guest bedroom.

“I am willing to try this. All of it,” he says, more decided that you’ve ever heard him sound. “But I don’t wanna rush it. I wanna do things right. And I don’t give a shit about playing singles, I’d love just playing with you.”

You both sit on the kitchen table as you go down the plan you’ve made in your head with him. The call you’ll have to make to Adidas, the practice times, how you’re going to make it public, the possible media reactions, etc. Patrick listens attentively, nodding and humming and asking questions in all the right places. He kisses your cheek as you both separate for the night, and for the first time in three years, you think you might be alright.

[xoxochb]

⋆·˚ ༘ * if you get lonely, think of me only

warnings: major foreshadowing, more kissing at the end, vulgar language, I got lazy trying to end this because I’m awful at ending fics

pairing: percy jackson x daughter of hades and persephone

series master list

“what? I don’t- I thought he was with dad?”

nico shrugs

“okay, okay. well I need to change out of this, will you give me a moment?” you say referring to your wedding dress

your brother nods and closes the door behind him. you quickly change out of your wedding dress to your ‘casual’ dress. you give percy a sentimental look and a peck to his lips

“I’ll be back in a minute” another kiss and you’re off

for percy however, he doesn’t like that you left him- your boyfriend- for another man- your soon to be husband. would following you be too possessive? perhaps, but his jealousy got the best of him

your walk to the foyer was entirely nerve-wracking, many questions fill your mind. why was he here? how long would he be here? would the wedding be sooner than anticipated? was the wedding called off? was your father back?

when you catch sight of your soon-to-be husband- what was his name again? tristan? travis? triton? troy! you knew you would get it some day

he waits by the door and even as you were far enough that you could barely see him, his ocean scent was strong, almost suffocating when you stand directly beside him

“you wanted to see me?” you cross your arms

a smirk appears on his mouth “ah, yes. your father thought it would be a good idea for me to get to know my wife”

“what?”

“I suppose you don’t understand those words yet. talking to younger women is useless” he mutters, but his next words are back to normal volume “he wants me to get to know you”

“what the hell do you mean by that? we’re the same age are we not?”

“well yes… my last wife was much older though”

“your last wife? does my father know you were married before me?”

“of course he does”

you run your hands over your face as a way to relax “okay. that’s fine”

it’s not fine. you want to see him publicly executed

“so when are you free”

“never if it’s to see you”

“your father wouldn’t like the way you’re speaking to me”

“well forget him! I don’t give a shit what he thinks”

“I didn’t know princesses used such vulgar language”

“well they do”

silence

“well, seeing that this conversation is getting inappropriate for a married couple I’ll be in the parlor, come find me when you’ve matured”

he brushes past you, gone, get the ocean still lingers. you take one last look at your surroundings before walking back to your room

on percy’s side of things he hides behind a nearby pillar, close enough to see, too far to hear. however he can always tell the mood of the conversation by your demeanor, this time furious. he watches you attentively for absolutely anything, any small details at all. he doesn’t know this man, not at all, but when the pungent scent of the sea fills his senses he knows he doesn’t like him, and he has a legitimate reason this time. had your father purposely set you up with this boy?

when he sees you walk past the pillar he hid behind he swiftly- yet stealthily- rushes back to your room in an attempt to beat you there for a ‘Ive been here the whole time’ appearance

when he arrives at your room he flops down on your bed out of breath and you make your arrival only moments later

he sits up (‘act casual’ he reminds himself) “welcome back, princess. what’d he want to see you for?”

you roll your eyes at the reminder of your unbearable future husband “I don’t want to talk about it, he’s absolutely absurd. something’s off about him I swear”

he doesn’t ask any further questions. for one reason because he knows better than to anger a daughter of hades, and another: because he respects your wishes unlike your soon-to-be husband. regardless if both of those factors he hated you marrying another man. he deserved to be the one marrying you, not some idiot who doesn’t treat you right

you lay down beside percy in his propped up position. he takes advantage of this and places his lips on yours; passion and jealously-filled

“hate that you’re marrying another guy” he rasps against your lips “doesn’t deserve you”

he puts his free hand on your waist to pull you closer, because for him your bodies being any more than one inch apart is utterly preposterous. he puts one leg in between yours as the kisses get more heated. your hands tangle in his hair, pushing him almost impossibly closer to you. gods- your lips would be so swollen tomorrow morning

tag list: @itzmeme @lara20aral @saint-jaz-the-queer @leathesimp @pevenxie

[avastrasposts]

A Baker's Dozen - Five

Twelve Pedro boys, twelve stand alone short stories, all set in the same bakery.

Hello!

A surprise early drop of part five! I didn't want this gentleman to be lost among the Christmas cheer on Sunday night so please enjoy him a couple of days early.

This man was the one that most intimidated me to write, and I think that's true for most of us. Luckily my dear friend @morallyinept is an expert on the subject of this particular Pedro boy, and beta read it. Thank you so much Jett, your encouragement makes this a lot less scary!

Please say hello to Pedro boy number five...

Series Master List

It’s not the first time you’ve seen him in your bakery. Sometimes, when you have your extra staffer in over the weekend to handle the crowds, you’ve seen him waiting in line. Somehow he always comes in when you’re not at the counter, or dealing with another customer, but when you glance out through the open kitchen door, you spot him. More than once. And he’s always watching you, dark brown eyes, curious, intelligent, carefully watching. It intrigues you, and it scares you. 

He’s easy to recognise, the bright blonde patch of hair over his forehead makes him memorable, if nothing else. But the way he stands, the weight of his body on one leg, leaning forward onto it while he tilts his head and observes you through the open door with a wry smirk. It makes you think of a trickster, a smooth talker who will smile and charm you with his words while he tries to sell you real estate on the moon. Your eyes meet and he grins, holding up his hand in a nonchalant greeting. You let your eyes glide over him, ignoring his wave as if you didn’t see him, busy looking for a pan or a bowl. 

He comes in the next day again, you catch him from the corner of your eye as he steps up to the counter, just as you come out of the fridge. He doesn’t see you this time you think, so you hurry out of sight and go back to measuring flour into the large mixer. Through the door you can hear him talk to the high schooler you’ve got handling the Saturday afternoon rush. 

“Afternoon, may I ask after the proprietor of this fine bakery?” the man says, and his southern accent is eloquent in a way that reminds you of old films, theatrical and exaggerated, you can hear the smirk in his tone. In your mind he sweeps an old fashioned hat off his head and bows like the ringmaster at the circus. It puts your teeth on edge and you hope to escape his attention. 

“She’s busy right now but I’ll see if she has time,” your highschooler says and you sigh, waving your hand no when they come into the kitchen 

“I’m sorry, she’s right in the middle of something, can I take a message?” 

“No bother, I’ll stop by later, I have a proposal to the lady that’s best delivered in person.” 

You hear him say goodbye and then the door jingles and the hum of the afternoon rush continues as you turn on the big dough mixer, drowning out all else. You wonder what kind of proposal the man could have for you, his response was almost as if he was preparing a sale. The thought calms you and annoys you a little, dealing with insistent sales people was your least favorite activity as a business owner. There was always someone trying to sell you a new mixer or a new oven. You hope he doesn’t come back, but at least you know how to brush off a sales person if needed. 

He doesn’t come back until Tuesday, when you’re alone in the bakery, just before closing. The door jingles and you look up, seeing his smile as he steps across the threshold. 

“Afternoon,” he says, coming up to the counter, giving you a gallant nod in greeting, “I was hoping to catch you at a more quiet time, seeing as the end of the day draws near. I hope my interference doesn’t disrupt your day too greatly and cause you disturbance.” 

His smile sits fixed on his face, as if rehearsed to look polite and genuine, to sell you something. 

It’s hard to press back your customer service persona, so you give him a polite smile, internally you’re gearing up to be courteous but dismissive. 

“How can I help you?” you ask, and his smile widens into a grin as he tilts his head to the side and looks at you. 

“I’m in the market for a special type of treat, one which I hope you’ll indulge me in making,” he holds out his left hand to you, “I’m Ezra, and I really hope you can help me, miss…?” 

You take his hand and awkwardly shake it, ignoring his question, but your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. You’d been so certain he’d try to sell you something, you hadn’t considered that he’d be the one asking you to sell him something special even though special requests weren’t a rare thing. 

“If it’s doable and I know how to make it, I’m sure we can come up with something,” you reply and he nods his head.

“Oh, I’ll pay, handsomely, of course,” 

“What did you have in mind?” you ask, and his smile stretches even further, making his teeth show, and you balk, a tinge of unease shooting up your spine. In the back of your mind you’re reminded of the poem; ‘Will you walk into my parlour, said a spider to a fly.’ There’s a layer of something underneath that smile that unnerves you.

“A sentimental old favorite of mine, chocolate soufflé,” he says, his eyes suddenly slipping into softness as he seems to look past you, “Light, airy, rich and velvety.” 

He waves his hand as if he’s conjuring the dessert out of thin air, a dreamy look on his face that’s quickly replaced by his grin as he turns his attention back to you. 

“It’s an arduous dessert to master, only the most skilled bakers can create it. Are you skilled, sugar?” 

You give him a scowl, you’ve heard every pet name in the book vaguely related to baking by now and none of them sit well with you. 

He catches on to your scowl and chuckles, “Not ‘sugar’ then,” he grins as you put your smallest customer service smile back on. 

“I can make soufflé but I won’t be able to sell them here,” you explain, shaking your head. “They’re too delicate and need to be served and eaten straight out of the oven. But I’m sure there’s restaurants who have soufflé on the menu.”

Ezra shakes his head with a rueful look,”I’m afraid I’ve tried that route, but none of the restaurants in town have exactly what I desire on the menu, and they won’t make it as a special order. So my hope lies with you, cookie.” 

He chuckles again when he sees the flash of annoyance at the pet name, his eyes crinkling at the corners, his smile suddenly looking genuine, “If you’d told me your name when I introduced myself I would gladly use that instead of causing an umbridge with my embarrassing choices of guesses.” 

You ignore his comment about your name, feeling even less inclined to give it to him, and instead you begin wiping down the counter for the end of the day. 

“I’m sorry none of the restaurants have it, but I’m afraid I can’t help you, I can’t make the soufflé and then wait for you to come in, it would be flat and dull and I couldn’t sell you that.” 

“I’m sure you observed, because I’ve observed you in turn, several times, that I’ve been studying you,” Ezra says, his eyes narrowing as he gives you a charming smile, cocking his head to the side and leaning against the counter on his left side, watching you run the cloth over the display cases. 

“You’re the most talented baker I’ve seen in all my travels, all you sell here, you make with your own gifted hands,” he waves his hand around the bakery, “And I’ve sampled many of your delectable delights, nothing rivals what you can bake, cupcake.” 

His words make your cheeks heat up against your will as you glare at the pet name and he smiles back at you. . 

“It won’t change the physics of the soufflé though,” you point out, “it will still fall flat if it’s out of the oven waiting for the customer.” 

“Well, crumpet, I have a remedy for that, I have thought of it all. You make it for me while I wait, right here, after hours,” he says, leaning forward when he sees your doubtful face. He takes the cloth from your hand, stilling your movement as he wraps his fingers around yours, just tight enough for you not to be able to just yank them away. His eyes closer to yours now, imploring you to hear him out, and you don’t fail to note that his expression shifts into something more innocent, his brown eyes wide open, forehead pulled up as he pleads with you

“Please, truly, it may only be a soufflé to you, but it really does mean an awful lot to me, to be able to have this dessert again, to remind me of better days, happier times.” 

His fingers squeeze yours gently while he talks, “I lost my arm, a while back now, in a mining accident,” he says, looking down to his right hand side where you only now notice that his jacket sleeve hangs limp, “I used to love to bake, but I can’t anymore, on account of my…condition.”  

“I’m sorry to hear that,” you reply politely and Ezra nods again.

“It’s been a while now, I’m getting used to navigating life without it,” he says, shrugging his shoulders, “But I can’t bake, not like I used to, not something that requires two stable hands.”

He lets go of you and stands up, grabbing the empty sleeve of his jacket and lifts it up, “Imagine if this happened to you,” he says, giving the sleeve a frustrated tug as his voice gains an edge of annoyance, “Imagine if you, from one cursed day to the next, not only lost your ability to do your job, but also your ability to perform the most entertaining of tasks.” 

You feel your resolve slipping, he’s turned his eyes back on yours and falls silent, for what feels like for the first time since he stepped into the shop. His hand is on the counter between you, open, like he’s waiting for you to take it and shake on your agreement, and his eyes are imploring, his eyebrows raised. 

Like this he looks less like a trickster, the facade has slipped a bit, or maybe he’s pulled a new one up, you feel like you can’t be sure. You glance down at his empty sleeve and make up your mind, you’d be devastated if you couldn’t bake again. 

“Ok, I’ll make your soufflé, any way you want it,” you say, taking his hand, and Ezra’s face breaks into a wide smile. 

“Thank you, bon bon! Your kind gesture makes me most hopeful for the future, there are still good people in this world, prepared to help a poor, armless, man.” 

“Enough with the names,” you give him a small scowl, but you can’t help but smile at the same time, his own smiling, face seems genuine, honestly happy for your service. 

“Such a sweet baker lady has to have a name that matches the sweetness of her produce, jelly pie,” he chuckles, “I’ll keep trying them out until I find the one that sticks.” 

“If I hear one I like I’ll let you know, just don’t hold your breath,” you reply, but you’re smiling at him now and he seems less wiley with the change of his demeanor, more straightforward, as he runs his hand through his hair and grins at you. 

“So when do you want to do this? And what kind of chocolate soufflé do you want?” you ask, pulling out your notebook. 

“I once went to a small restaurant in France, a tiny little village, somewhere in the mountains north of Cannes,” he says, “and the chef would cover the bottom of the ramekin with caramel, sprinkle it with sal de mer before he poured in the chocolate and then finish with a little bit more just on top.” His hand makes a sprinkling movement over the top of the imaginary soufflé ramekin. “It was inspired, divine,” Ezra smiles at you, an excited gleam in his eyes, that you recognise all too well. “I asked him for the recipe and he was benevolent enough to make a gift of it to me, a small souvenir of a joyous visit and happier times.” 

Something in the way he says the last words, a slight slip in the excitement, a flash of something darker across his face, makes you open your mouth. But you close it again as his eyes brighten, the smile comes back up in place and he looks at you. 

“I had to translate the recipe into English of course, and now I have it memorized, from all the times I made it myself.” 

“Let me make a list then, and I’ll get the ingredients for next week, how about next Tuesday night? Does that work for you?” you ask and Ezra nods. 

“Any day would suit me, shortcake,” he grins and you roll your eyes, “But if it’s not too much trouble, I would prefer an earlier day? Maybe tomorrow even? And I’ll help you make it, as long as you have the ingredients?” 

You glance over at your calendar, you have nothing planned for tomorrow night and you’ll have time to get the ingredients into your usual weekly order tonight.

“It’ll be tight, but I think I can make it work, if I place the order straight away. Unless there’s something special in the recipe I should have all the ingredients already, eggs, cocoa and chocolate,” you list the items on your fingers, thinking out loud, “oh, I should get some extra cream.”  

“This chef used milk instead of cream,” Ezra interjects, “he said it made for a lighter soufflé.” 

“Ok, that’s fine, I’ve made them with milk in the past,” you nod, tapping your pen as you think and Ezra studies you, you can feel his eyes on you as his mouth quirks up in a small smile. 

“I do enjoy seeing you entranced by baking,” he says, “your attention to detail in the kitchen has kept me captivated while watching you work.” 

“I saw you, and I’ve got to say, kinda creepy to be watching people like that,” you reply and his eyebrows immediately pull together in an apologetic frown. 

“My apologies, sweet cannoli, but I was truly enwrapped by your work, your skill, I didn’t mean to be unsettling.” He reaches out and puts his hand on yours again, giving it a light squeeze as he leans forward, finding your eyes and searching them to make sure you accept his apology, “I truly am very sorry.” 

“It’s fine, just come in and say hello next time,” you reply, “and never call me ‘cannoli’ again.” The last thing you say with a roll of your eyes and Ezra laughs. 

“I didn’t think that one would stick, didn’t have much of a ring to it.” 

He gives your hand a last squeeze and lets go of it, raising his own in a wave. 

“Until tomorrow then, jelly,” he says and you give him a mock scowl that makes him grin wide, “Not ‘jelly’ either then,” he chuckles, “I’ll think of some new ones for tomorrow.” 

“No pet names necessary, Ezra,” you tell him, but he shakes his head. 

“No, no, you won’t tell me your name, now I make up my own, I will find the perfect one before we’re done. Until tomorrow, muffin.” 

“Absolutely not,” you call after him, “But I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

Ezra gives you a final grin before he exits and you see him walk off down the street. 

He appears again the next day, just before closing like the last time, giving you a polite nod and waiting by the door as you serve your last customer of the day. As the woman leaves, he steps forwards and gives you what feels like a genuine smile, unlike the rehearsed one he’d greeted you with yesterday.

“My sweet cream puff, I have been looking forward to this all day, I’ve been dreaming about finally eating this chocolate soufflé again,” he says, putting his hand on your arm and giving it a light squeeze. His hair looks freshly washed and cut, as does his patchy beard, and he brings a faint smell of cologne into the bakery. With his warm smile and neater appearance, he doesn’t look at all like the unnerving man you’d observed watching you the past few days, and you feel yourself relaxing. 

“Cream puff?” you laugh, “Better, but still not acceptable, Ezra.” 

“I have all evening to get it right,” he grins and holds up a take out bag, “I thought we could perhaps have dinner and not sustain ourselves only on soufflé, delectable as it may be. If that’s not too forward of me?” He says the last thing with his eyebrows raised in question and you shake your head. 

“Not at all, dinner would be nice, I’m getting a little bit hungry already.” 

“Then may I suggest dinner first, and then I get to enjoy the evening’s entertainment; watching you make the soufflé?” 

“Sounds like a plan, let me get some cutlery and glasses and we can eat out here,” you say. As you walk back into the kitchen, you can’t help but smile to yourself. This strange man is growing on you, his smooth southern drawl makes his flowery language work, and you have to admit, he scrubs up well, with his curls and his bright blonde patch. 

When you return with plates and cutlery, Ezra has set the take out on one of the café tables and is struggling with the knot on the plastic bag. You see the annoyance in his face as he tugs at the tight knot, digging his nails into it to get a grip, but failing as the plastic moves under his one hand. The sight fills you with empathy and you’re suddenly very glad you agreed to make him the soufflé. 

He hears your footsteps as you approach and he looks up, “It would seem the plastic bag has me beat,” he sighs, “I wanted to have it all laid out for you as you returned, after all, you’re doing all the baking later, the least I could do is lay the table. But not even that is something I can manage these days with…” He jerks his head in annoyance at the empty sleeve of his jacket and sighs. 

“It’s no bother,” you say, giving him a warm smile to put him at ease, and it seems to work. He smiles back at you, his brown eyes crinkling at the corners and you notice the dimple in his cheek under the patchy beard as he takes a step to the side, letting you put down the plates and cutlery.

“It’s why I agreed to bake the soufflé for you, I’m more than happy to help.” You untie the bag and lift out the containers as Ezra lays the table, taking meticulous care to line up the plates and the cutlery on either side, finding a few napkins and arranging them too. You go behind the counter to get rid of the bag and when you come back, Ezra has pulled out your chair for you and is waiting behind it with a smile. 

“I know this is purely a business transaction, but I have to confess, I’m very happy for the chance to spend an evening in the company of someone who shares my passion for baking”, he says.

“Thank you, Ezra,” you smile as you sit down and he slides the chair in, “I have to admit, I wasn’t sure what you wanted when I first noticed you looking, but this has turned out a lot nicer than just trying to tell another sales rep that I’m not interested in a new oven.” 

Ezra has sat down across from you and now he chuckles, “You thought I was going to sell you a new oven?” 

“A new oven, a new fridge, new baking pans,” you sigh, “you name it, the sales reps have been in here trying to convince me to throw out my working equipment and spend money I don’t have, on their new shiny product.” 

“Well, I’m glad I could surprise you then,” he replies as he begins to open the take out containers, “But I have another confession, I came into your bakery because what you displayed looked incredible, but….” he trails off, glancing up at you with a small smile before he begins scoop rice onto his plate, “I stayed because the woman who runs the bakery is captivating.” 

You feel your cheeks heat up as Ezra looks up at you again and he smiles as he sees your reaction. 

“And I don’t just mean that you’re beautiful, although that is certainly no exaggeration. But your talent…your talent….” he chuckles as you give him a bashful grin, “Sweet twinkie, you kept me captivated with your skill as I watched you through the kitchen door. You have such passion for this,” he waves his hand towards the bakery’s display cases, “so much creative talent and skill, I just…” he gives a small laugh, his hand rubbing his cheek as he drops his eyes down to his plate again, his usual confident manner suddenly replaced by an uncharacteristic shyness, “I wanted a chance to talk to you, if you’d let me.” 

“You’re very sweet, Ezra,” you smile, trying to contain the wide smile that’s threatening to take over your face at his praise. 

“It’s only what you deserve,” he says, smiling back at you and handing you one of the take out boxes, “Please, before it gets cold, I’m letting my mouth run away from me as usual.” 

It turns out Ezra had chosen a number of dishes from a local Indian restaurant down the street and you both groan as you pick your way through the selection. 

“I have to remember this place,” you moan around a mouthful of korma, “it’s incredible.” 

Ezra’s mouth is stuffed full with bhaji and he just nods as he chews, a look of bliss on his face as he swallows. 

“The man who runs it, I spoke with him, was most courteous. He recommended his favorites from the menu and I must say, he sure does know how to make people want to return.” 

“And there will be leftovers for days,” you say, leaning back in your chair, your belly full but there’s still so much food on the table. 

“You keep it, my fridge is out of commission at the moment unfortunately,” Ezra says, “you’ll have the most delicious lunch for the next few days.” 

“I can’t take all this food from you,” you protest but Ezra just shakes his head. 

“I have nowhere to keep it.”

“Then keep it here, and come by and have lunch with me,” you suggest, “we can keep talking about baking and you can spend more time in the bakery, maybe we can figure out some things you can still bake.” 

During the course of the meal Ezra had asked you about every aspect of your baking, your process behind the recipes, the techniques you used, the ingredients and where you sourced them. It had been a rare deep dive into your favorite subject with someone who shared your passion for the trade. You felt your attraction for him steadily grow while he leaned his head into his hand and kept his eyes on you as you went into the details of how to grow and maintain a healthy sourdough starter. 

“You won’t grow bored of my company, moon pie?” he smiled, “And my increasingly desperate names for you?” 

“No, I don’t think I’ll grow bored of you,” you smile back at him, “and your names are getting better.” 

He laughs at that and pushes back his chair, “Then let me be a useful guest and clear this for us, and then we can get to the highlight of the evening perhaps?” 

“Sounds like a plan.” 

You lead him back into the kitchen and the plates and cutlery are soon in your industrial sized dishwasher in the back room. You get the ingredients out onto the workbench as Ezra wanders around the kitchen, looking at your equipment and making approving noises. 

“I was never a professional baker like you, but I’m glad to see you favor the same brands for your pans as I do,” he chuckles, “Makes me feel less like a fraud.” 

“I’m sure you’re just as good as I am,” you reply, “your skill didn’t disappear with your arm.” 

He comes up to stand next to you, and as you look up at him, you see his smile fade as he shakes his head. 

“No, but it might as well have, I held my skill in my right hand, my left just isn’t as steady and sometimes you need two hands.” 

“I’m sorry,” you say, shaking your head, “I didn’t mean that it would be as easy as before, just that your knowledge of baking is still intact.” 

He gives you a small smile, his hand coming up to rest on your shoulder for a brief moment, the warmth of his hand seeping through your t-shirt.

“I know, I just get frustrated as I’m reminded of what I used to be able to do.” 

You lightly bump your hip against his and give him a smile, “Well, we’ve got three hands now, and a lot of skill between us, so this will be the best chocolate soufflé ever made.” 

Ezra chuckles and smiles too, his hand slipping from your shoulder. But he doesn’t lift it, instead it drifts down to the small of your back and he leaves it there, as you lean over the notes you’ve made for the recipe. It sits comfortably against the cotton, a small, intimate touch that signals something else building between you, or at least you hope it does. Ezra is a lot more fun to have around than what you thought when you first saw him, and you’re glad he’s proving you wrong. 

“Alright, I’m putting you on butter duty, I know you can do that one handed,” you say, giving him a wink as you look up at him, you want to involve him in this as much as possible, to make him feel good about baking again.”The ramekins are up on that shelf and the saucepan over there, you know what to do.” 

Ezra grins back at you and gives you a sloppy, left handed, salute, “Yes, ma’am, I’m on it.”  

While he gets started you set up the double boiler on your stove and start whisking the ingredients together. Ezra comes over with the saucepan and stands next to you while he melts the butter and you set up a third saucepan for the caramel. 

“The whisking is the really hard part,” he says as you begin to combine the ingredients, “And even if I use a stand mixer for most things, whisking while it’s over the double boiler proved too hard, the saucepan just slid all over the place.” 

“I wonder if there’s a way to maybe keep the saucepan stable?” you think out loud as you continue to stream the cream into the bowl, “Maybe a non-conductive ring, a silicone mold maybe? It wouldn’t heat up on an induction stove, would it?.” 

“Maybe, that’s not a bad idea actually…” he says thoughtfully and you smile up at him. 

“I can hear the cogs in your head turning, Ezra,” you laugh and he laughs with you. 

“Yeah, you got me thinking there, I’ve got silicone oven mitts at home, I need to try with them first and then figure out where to get a ring shaped piece of silicone. But it’s a really good idea, thank you!” 

He leans down and gives you a quick kiss on your cheek and it catches you by surprise, looking up at him and he smiles back. 

“I apologize, a good deed deserves a nice gesture in return, and your cheeks look very kissable, sweet cheeks.” 

He laughs at your exaggerated sigh and eye roll, bumping your hip in return as you’d done to him, “C’mon now, sweet cheeks, as far as pet names go, that one’s pretty good from my perspective.” 

“Keep trying, Ezra,” you laugh, you can’t maintain your fake look of exasperation when he’s smiling at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners and looking at you with such a mischievous grin. 

“Oh I’ll keep trying, biscuit,” he winks, “I’ll win you over soon enough.” 

He steps away to grab a pastry brush, and as you whisk the batter you watch him coat the inside of the ramekins with melted butter. He struggles a bit at first when the first ramekin starts sliding across the workbench, but you quickly grab a kitchen towel, wetting it under the tap before spreading it out on the counter for him to put the ramekins on. 

“You’re just full of bright ideas, pumpkin,” he smiles gratefully as you go back to the double boiler. 

“I have my moments,” you chuckle and you feel his eyes on you as you continue to whisk the batter. 

“You have more than a few moments, I think you have everything,” he says after a little while, his voice low and sincere. It’s ladened with something deeper and it makes you take your eyes off the batter and look up at him. He’s looking back at you, smiling, but there’s another layer to his eyes, like he’s smiling through a memory. A strange mix of regret and sadness flashes across his face, gone, as quickly as it appeared, and his smile grows wider, you realize it’s not reaching his eyes this time. But as you open your mouth to say something, he speaks first, turning back to the ramekins. 

“What’s the next step, boss?” he asks, his voice back to the same cheerful tone he had just a few moments ago, and you’re certain you can see the mask come up this time. But you don’t challenge him, he’s hiding something, or at least there’s something he doesn’t want to share. So you consult your notes and point him to the egg whites. 

“Use the Husqvarna and make the meringue while I chop the chocolate.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” he replies and gets to work, the whisking made easy this time with the help of the mixer. 

You continue preparing the chocolate batter and when Ezra is done with the meringue, you fold it into the airy egg whites, bringing them together into a light fluffy mixture. Ezra watches you as you drizzle a layer of caramel into the ramekins he’s prepared, leaving him to sprinkle a few flakes of sea salt before you scoop the soufflé batter on top, finishing with him sprinkling another few flakes on the chocolate. 

“Done,” you say, "we make a good team, Ezra.” 

“We do, and you’ve made this one handed fool very happy, letting him finally get to taste these soufflés again,” he says as you laugh and shake your head. 

“No early victories, please! We still have to bake them and you know how fickle soufflés are.” You take the oven tray you’ve placed the ramekins on and carefully move them into the oven, turning down the heat. 

“With this team?” Ezra chuckles, “I have all the faith in the world, cherry pie.” 

“Better,” you smile at him as you watch him wipe down the workbench and then turn to jump up to sit on it. 

“Better?” His eyebrows quirk up as he grins and holds out his hand for you, “Am I getting warm with my names?” 

You jump up on the workbench and sit next to him, shaking your head, “No, I just find the man using them more agreeable.” 

Ezra smiles, his dark eyes glinting as he turns to you, “You didn’t find me agreeable when I first arrived at your bakery?” 

“Not…un-agreeable,” you say, thinking out loud and studying his face, the bright blonde patch of hair over his forehead curling with the heat in the kitchen, as are the unruly strands of hair around his neck, patchy beard over his jaw and cheeks, his mouth twitching up in a smile as he waits for you to continue. 

“Just…hard for me to place? What you wanted. And why you were always looking at me,” you say and Ezra’s smile softens. 

“I looked, because you’re beautiful.” 

He says it so simply, no flourish, no fanfare or exaggeration. Just a statement as he keeps his eyes locked on yours, no smile, no grin, just his face, quietly scanning yours for a reaction. 

You lift your hand and lightly touch his cheek, fingertips tracing his jaw, the short hairs of his beard, tickling under your caress as he slowly exhales. 

He leans his face into your palm, your thumb soothing over the lines at the corners of his eyes as they close, and he lets a small sigh slip out, his warm breath tickling your wrist. Your thumb caresses his cheek while you study his face, the dark eyelashes casting shadows and his features soft, relaxed in a way you haven’t seen since he first showed up. He looks younger as you gently explore his lines with your fingertips and let them melt into softness under your touch. 

A quiet hum escapes him as he tilts his head and lets your hand slip over his jaw and back to his neck. The curls are soft, wayward, and wrap easily around your fingers as you lean forward. The plush swell of his bottom lip is irresistible and you press your mouth carefully against it. 

Ezra’s eyes fly open as your lips meet, his eyes dark and smiling. His hand comes up and gently mirrors your own, cupping your cheek as he presses his lips against yours in return. As you close your eyes, you feel his warm palm hold you steady and you part your lips, the tip of his tongue meeting yours, tasting him. His touch is soft, both his hand and his lips, making warmth spread through your body as he pulls you closer.  

He kisses you like he’s trying to learn how to read you, studying your reaction to how his lips mold against yours as he tastes your tongue under his. Each moan he pulls from you makes him come back to pull it from you again, running his tongue over the same spot, nipping on your bottom lip with a gentle tug. You realize you started the kissing, but Ezra quickly takes control, his hand cupping your cheek, keeping you steady as your own hands caress his back, feeling the bunched muscles under his thin shirt, the warmth of his body heating your palms. You can feel his heartbeat against you, your own pulse thrumming under his fingertips as he pulls another moan from you when his hand slips into your hair.  

He groans into your mouth and scoots off the workbench, pulling you with him so that he gains extra height on you. The change in angle lets him wrap his arm around your shoulders and pull you in closer, pressing his lips to yours as your hands slide down his back, dipping into the waistband of his pants, finding the warm skin just under the edge.

With a groan, he pulls back, his hand still curled around the back of your neck, your arms still around his waist. You look up at him but his eyes are closed and he leans down, letting his nose run along yours, caressing your cheek, down your jaw, breathing hot over your skin, while he nuzzles your neck, inhaling deeply. 

“Like chocolate,” he mutters, “and caramel. What I wouldn’t give…” 

He falls silent, his lips pressing against your neck in a searing kiss that makes heat rush through your body, before he pulls back and stands up. 

“I’d tell you your kisses are the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted in this bakery, but I don’t think even I could get away with that comment,” he smiles and you roll your eyes with a giggle. 

“Not even you, Ezra,” you say, “although I’d say it’s a nice effort and that your kisses are just as sweet.” 

“We make a good team,” he smiles, letting his thumb caress your cheek again as you nod. His eyes are still on you and you feel him studying you again, but it doesn’t feel awkward this time, just…breathtaking. Your breath hitches as his eyes slip over your lips, his thoughts clear on his face as the tip of his tongue peaks out. He’s the one who leans in this time, watching you close your eyes as he presses a gentle kiss to your lips, his thumb and finger catching your chin. When he pulls away a fraction, you open your eyes again and he’s smiling at you. The oven timer is beeping in the background and you hadn’t even noticed, his soft lips distracting you both from the insistent sound. 

“I’ll get the timer, you get the soufflés,” he whispers and you nod slowly as he smiles and presses another soft kiss to your lips. 

“Now, my sweet cherry pie, or we’ll have a very flat dessert.” 

You smile back at him and grab the oven mitts and follow him to the oven. 

This next step is crucial, carefully you open the door and slide out the tray. They’ve risen perfectly but as soon as they’re out of the oven they start cooling down and soon they’ll sink. You set the tray down on the workbench and Ezra brings over two dessert spoons. His face is beaming at the sight of the soufflés, sniffing as the warm chocolate scent fills the kitchen. 

“They smell even better than the ones I made,” he grins as you slide a ramekin over to him. 

“A team effort, Ezra,” you smile, “your recipe, our skill.” 

“Your hands, luckily,” he replies, holding up his first spoonful of soufflé as if he’s toasting you, and you clink your spoon against his before you both have your first taste. 

The flavor is rich in your mouth but the texture is light and airy, a small hint of sal de mer hitting your tongue as you hum around the taste. Ezra’s eyes are closed, his head tilted back as he sucks on the spoon, a low rumble coming from his chest as he savors the chocolate. 

“My sweet soufflé,” he smiles, looking down at you through half closed eyelids, “this…this…is heaven.” 

He digs his spoon in, and gets some of the caramel too, taking another mouthful as he groans again. You copy him and make sure to get both caramel and soufflé on your spoon for your next bite, and Ezra was right, the combination is flawless. You sigh around your spoon, slowly sucking the caramel off it as the chocolate melts in your mouth. Ezra is watching you with dark eyes and a small smile, his own spoon forgotten in his hand. 

“I’d bake for you every day, no matter how much I’d struggle, if I could hear you make that sound again,” he says and it makes you laugh, giggling as he grins. He takes another spoonful of soufflé, smiling as he eats it, some of it catching on his mustache and you point at it. 

“You got some chocolate on your beard there.”

Ezra removes the spoon from his mouth and gives you a sly smirk, “I’m sure I won’t be able to reach it with my tongue, why don’t you help me?”. 

The tone of his voice, the mischief it promises, makes hot energy shoot through your nerves, your skin tingling as you put down your spoon and step closer to him. He’s looking down at you, his eyes full of mirth as you take his chin between your thumb and finger, tilting his head down towards you. He comes willingly, a small smile still lingering, and he’s so close, his hand finding its way to your waist. 

“Can you reach it,” he asks in a low voice and you nod, locking eyes with him. They’re the same rich brown as the soufflé, just as warm and soft right now, as you lean in and run your tongue over the corner of his mouth, finding the errant smudge of chocolate. Catching the edge of his mouth between your lips, you lap at the sweet taste. His hand bunches up your shirt and as you run your tongue over the seam of his mouth, he parts it easily, letting you in. He tastes of the dessert and you know he can taste the same on you. 

“I think you got it,” he mumbles, grinning, against your lips as you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer. 

“I need to make absolutely sure, can’t let you leave with chocolate all over your mouth,” you smile between kisses. 

“You take such good care of me, honey.” 

“That one’s a winner, Ezra,” you mumble, I’ll keep that one.” 

He chuckles, his lips pulling up in a grin under yours as he kisses you again, “But it’s too ordinary, for such an extraordinary woman.” 

“I like it, especially when it comes from you, you’re extraordinary enough for the both of us.” 

Ezra tugs you closer, making you sigh into him as he buries his face against your neck, pressing a kiss against the soft skin before he rests his head on your shoulder. 

“What am I going to do with you,” he says, more a statement than a question, his hand caressing your back, sliding up into your hair, cupping around your neck, “What am I going to do with myself.”

He slowly begins to sway, moving you back and forth in a slow dance without music. 

“I need to leave soon, but I don’t want to,” he mumbles, gently spinning you around as you let your hand rest on his shoulder, the one missing his arm, “I have to leave this warm kitchen, your tender kisses, this sweet nest you’ve built for us.” 

He spins you again, moving your body slowly with his own. 

“This home you’ve created for someone like me.” 

Before you can ask what he means he steps back, taking your hand in his, and with a flourish and bow, he kisses the back of it, making you smile.  

“I am afraid, my sweet baker girl, that it is time for my departure, I will steal no more hours from you,” he says, letting go of your hand and taking his coat from the hook by the kitchen door, shrugging it back on, the empty sleeve hanging limp by his side. The other arm he hooks around your waist and leads you back out to the shop, towards the door. 

“Ezra, it’s pouring outside,” you say, seeing the rain slick street outside, the asphalt shining black under the streetlights, “Let me at least give you a lift home, you’ll get soaked. Where do you live?” 

“No, it’s no trouble, honey pie, my car is parked just a block away. And unlike you, my sweet thing, I am not made of sugar, a little rain won’t melt me,” he grins. 

A twinge of regret hits your heart as you see the mask so clearly come up over his face again, the dark eyes shifting into something less open, the softness fading away even as he smiles at you.

“Do you have to leave?” you ask as he opens the door, and he turns, resting his back against the frame of the door. 

“The illusion has to break,” he says softly, raising his hand and running the back of it over your cheek, giving you a small wink, but the mischief doesn’t reach his eyes this time. 

“What does that mean, Ezra?” you ask but he just shakes his head, leaning forward and pressing his lips to yours. 

“Take care of my soufflé recipe, sweet girl,” he mumbles, pulling back and giving you a crooked smile. Then he turns and hurries across the street, the rain splashing around his shoes as he pulls his collar up and disappears into the darkness between the streetlights. 

…

The bell of the front door jingles just as you’re sweeping the floor, and as you look up, you spot Barbara from the dry cleaner across the street stepping into the shop. 

“Hi, you’re still open this late?” she asks, shaking out her platinum blonde box dye curls and you internally sigh, Barbara is the neighborhood chatterbox and you just want to go home, it’s been a long day. But you put on a smile and continue sweeping.

“I’m just getting ready to leave, what’s up?” 

“I meant to come earlier but I’ve been so busy. I just wanted to warn you in case he comes by here too,” she says, eyes scanning your bakery as if she’s looking for someone.

“Who?” you ask and she turns back to you. 

“There’s a man, you’ve probably seen him, shifty looking guy, he only has one arm, and a weird blonde patch in his hair. He’s been around to all the shops in this neighborhood. I saw him outside your place earlier today.”  

“What about him?” you ask, keeping your voice neutral as you duck down and wipe a shelf that’s already been cleaned, hiding your face. 

“He’s been conning business into giving him free stuff all week, food, clothes, shoes,” Barbara says, wrinkling her nose in disgust at the very nerve of asking for something for free. “Mr. Mason even gave him a haircut and trimmed his beard, how he dared to do that I don’t even know. I wouldn’t even let him into the dry cleaners, you can’t trust people like that.” 

You’re listening, your hand cleaning the same spot over and over as lead settles in your stomach. 

“H-how do you know that?” you ask, moving to the coffee machine, rubbing it down with your back to her. 

“Mrs. Levinson told me that Fanny, you know Fanny, in the flower shop?”

“Yeah, I know here, what did she say?” you ask impatiently, yanking at the milk nozzle, and you hear Barbara scoff behind you. 

“Well, apparently, this man, he told Mr. Olson at the hardware store, that he lost his arm in a construction accident, but Mrs.Saqib’s husband works at the hospital and he said this guy came in last year with a gunshot wound, all infected and nasty. And that’s how he lost his arm,” she snorts, cackling to herself. 

You continue to clean the machine, the heavy weight in your stomach turning to nausea, trying to keep your breathing steady as Ezra’s warm smile floats up inside your mind. 

“He told the police he got shot at a poker game and it was an accident but I reckon he’s lying,” Barbara continues, “men like that, you never know what they get up to, a real nasty piece of work I think.” 

“Thanks Barbara,” you snap, “I really need to close up and get home, thanks for telling me, I’ll be careful if I see him.” 

You usher her to the door as she huffs at the abrupt interruption to her gossip session but you can’t get her out fast enough, slamming the door harder than necessary and giving her a strained smile through the window as she waves. 

You hurry back to the kitchen, the ramekins still on the workbench and Ezra’s spoon next to them, just where he’d put it before he kissed you no more than a little while ago. You can’t even look at it, pulling your coat off the hook, you rush out through the back door and into the rain. 

Early next morning, long before the rest of the world is awake, you’re back at the bakery after a sleepless night. No matter how little rest you got, the bakery has to open, and for it to open, you need to bake. Familiar motions of the early hours, a chance to stop your mind from spinning, it feels like a small relief today. The thoughts of Ezra in your tired mind won’t let your head relax and as you walk up to the back steps you almost miss the envelope pushed under the door. 

You unlock the door and slip out the note inside while you step inside. The piece of paper is folded in an uneven line and as you smooth it out you see the unsteady handwriting of someone who’s writing with the wrong hand. 

I know what they say about me, the gossip, the rumors, and I confess, most of it is true. I’m sorry. I wish I was a different man, I wish I could offer you something, anything, but I have nothing to give to anyone.  

I did tell you the truth in the end though. You captivate me. You will always be my most cherished memory. That will always be true. 

Always yours, 

Ezra 

Part Six

Two links this time, one to the NYT recipe and one to the wonderful Claire Saffitz's making the souffles if you want to attempt them yourselves. I've added the caramel and sea salt though, as an extra layer of Ezra ☺

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