#cleaning up line work is the worst

[the-greek-mythos-project]

The Greek Mythos Project: What We Accept Within Submissions

Hello everyone, it is once again Camila here and I am writing this post because I decided I should probably clarify things sooner than later. I know I and quite a few other lovely people can struggle with open barriers within things, especially in such a large and "imposing" project, so I decided to write down the general specifics of things to lessen everyone's anxiety. This can and will definitely be improved if we are given more information/questions/asked for clarification so feel free to check every once in a while or reach out if you don't see a specific question you have answered. This is once again here to promote better communication within things and break down this large project to more manageable things. So, let's get into it!

[Note: This post will go from the broader, more unspecific, topics to the smaller, more specific ones so feel free to scroll down or up as you please :)]

The Biggest Thing First! One Singular POV. This is something that I, Camila, want for the project and therefore, it will be the most enforced thing within here. Don't worry, though! We will be releasing a Second Work alongside this main project consisting of things that didn't quite fit into the original project, such as works that aren't exactly (or at all) one POV but still want to be recognized or OC pieces that are like reincarnations of various gods/mortals/characters which I'll get into later. So you work has a place with us, I promise you <3.

Anyway, back to the One Singular POV thing. It genuinely does not matter whether the piece is First Person, Second Person, Third Person, or something within those parameters as long as the setting, scene, thoughts, and work are being described in that one character's thoughts/experiences. A great example of this in Third Person is in the Heroes of Olympus by Rick Riordan, a popular YA Book Series centering around Greek Mythology in a Modern Setting told by their Demigod Children, where the narrative is in Third Person POV but it only ever follows whoever's POV it's in. Such as we do see the character's actual name and "he/she/they" instead of "I" but we're not privy to anything other than what the character is experiencing.

That is what I am asking for, and I am asking for this mostly for myself!) As we all may know by now, this project was created because I--Camila--took one look at my goal to rewrite the entirety of Greek Mythology in my search to learn more about the Greek Myths, was like "yeah... no," and then proceeded to make this public with the intent to bring out those niche writers, gain a community, make friends, and generally learn more about the various communities and ideas surrounding such a vast and deep thing such as Greek Mythology (remember, people not only know this across the globe, but across centuries. It's not just our ideas and the original texts, it's the Roman Empire's thoughts, the Rise of Christianity, all of our forefathers, and even those who we have read dissecting these things and creating academic papers or other works. It's just so interesting how much character and change and even how much influence various things have had on our modern perceptions). But, this is also a Project, this is also mine, and so I am very politely asking for it to be One POV of a Greek Mythological Character--However Niche They May Be--Only.

Thank you so much for understanding and, again, I will be hosting a Secondary Fic for all the things that don't quite fit under this Main Project but may still want to have the recognition/community that this comes with <3.

Note!! Because this post ended up being a little long and would be hard to properly organize going further, the rest of it will be comprised in reblogs <33

[peachesofteal]

Simple Math / Part 5

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 4.5k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI, no smut but this fic contains mature themes. Stalking. Brief mention of domestic violence. Feelings of fear, self loathing, and anxiety. Vomiting. Panic attack/comfort. Medical inaccuracies, hospital setting. A little bit of praise. Johnny is a flirt and a menace.

“Ye’re off yer head.” 

“I’m not.” Johnny expects Simon to relent, to give it up, but when he doesn’t budge, something hot sizzles alive in the pit of Johnny’s stomach, desire roaring to life in his veins. 

“Jus’ like that? Ye’re goin’ let me see yer bonnie face finally?” He slurs, lifting the bottle to his lips, and Simon nods.

“Only if you win."

“And if ye win?” Simon moves closer, his chest brushing against Johnny’s, balaclava covered face dipping down, noses nudging against one another’s in a tentative, teasing way. 

“If I win, you’ll remove something of my choosing instead.” 

Your phone is ringing.

In your sleep, you hardly recognize it, but your subconscious is well trained, and your hand seeks the source of the noise effortlessly, dragging it from the nightstand and next to your face, to squint blearily at it, awareness coming quickly when you recognize the charge nurse’s work line.

“Hello?” You clear the cobwebs of sleep from your throat.

“Hey, sorry to wake you.”

“No, ‘s alright. What’s going on?”

“I know it’s your day off, but-“

“You’re short.” You fill in the blanks, and she huffs.

“We’ve got two out with flu like symptoms, and I’m floating another to-“

“It’s okay.” You swing your feet over the edge of the bed, rubbing your eyes. “I got you. Just give me like, an hour? I have to get ready and stuff.”

“Of course. Thanks so much, you’re a lifesaver.” You zone out for a moment, plotting out the rest of your day, and mumble something like ‘don’t worry about it’, ending the call with your thumb.

The hotel carpet is plush. It’s cushioned and soft, and it gives a little when you stand and stretch, pulling your arms over your head, twisting and turning with tired bones, shaking loose the stupor that holds your neck too straight, too tightly.

OT isn’t the worst thing in the world right now, considering you’re paying for a long term stay in a hotel, you tell yourself more than a few times as you shower and dress. You should be grateful for it. Understaffing has it’s benefits, financially.

The only wrench about coming in on your day off this week is you’re supposed to be collecting more things from your flat. Particularly, clothing. You’ve only got a short rotation of outfits, scrubs, both in short supply, and… no clean underwear. You had planned to move large chunks of your wardrobe over today, probably at least two trips worth, but will now have to settle for stopping by fairly quick to grab what you can.

It will be fine, you think, casually checking your surroundings as you step off the platform. In and out and on with your day.

You were wrong.

You see it immediately, stepping through the door. The locks are in place, handle, deadbolt, extra one at the top, but you can tell, you can feel, that someone has been in here. Your blood thickens in your veins, freezing to a stop, sluggishly propelled by your frenzied heart. You can hear it in your ears, the thunder of your panic, can feel the fear twisting itself into a sailor’s knot and holding you hostage.

Your feeling is confirmed, rationalized, when you push your bedroom door ajar and see the carnage of what’s been left behind on top of your bed.

Shredded panties.

The entire underwear drawer has been spilled out across your sheets, lace and cotton and silk all ripped to pieces, torn edges clearly made by hands, not knives, not scissors, but the personal touch of fingers, of fists.

Your breath catches in your chest, oxygen in the room falling away, leaving you panting, gasping for your next inhale as you cautiously pick up a pair close to you. They’re grey cotton boy shorts, and your stomach flips up into your throat when they stand as stiff as a board, some sort of dried substance splattered across them, rendering the fabric firm and inflexible.

Not… not just some dried substance… you realize in horror, scanning the pile of panties, noticing the stains on most of them, a milky white color shining against black silk.

You can’t breathe. You stumble away, back slamming into your dresser, sinking down onto the floor, hands covering your ears.

This can’t be happening. This can’t be real. 

This is sick, even for him. An escalation of disturbing behavior that sends a chill down your spine, frightening you even more than you already were. You knew he’d get in, hoped he would buy your carefully crafted lie: the appearance of you still living there… but to act so brazenly, to do something like… this.

Does he know, does he realize, you’re not actually living in the flat now? 

He’s really going to kill you this time. 

You race to the toilet, heaving yourself over the seat as your breakfast rushes past your lips, a cup of coffee and half eaten muffin accentuated by the sting of bile, and you gag, spitting and hacking until you’re finished, flushing it all away.

You don’t look at the girl in the mirror. You don’t want to see her. Don’t want to tell her all the ways you’re letting her down. She thinks you’re smarter than this, stronger. Braver. She believes you’ve done it once before, you’ve escaped, you’ve hid, and you can do it again.

She doesn’t know you’re not sure you have the heart for it now. She doesn’t realize you’re tired, you’re afraid. She doesn’t understand that you like the life you’ve made, that running is exhausting, that sometimes, in the very darkest corners of your mind, you think that letting him win might be easiest.

So, you don’t look at her. You mourn your pile of panties for a too long second and lock the apartment up tight.

Get it together. Get yourself together. 

You coach yourself the entire way to work, trying to ignore the rubbing and bunching of your scrub pants, an unfortunate consequence of being forced to go commando.

Deep breath. You can do this. 

You still have your sanctuary. 

You had hoped, for a miniscule moment, that your day might improve once you step foot in the hospital, and you pushed away the inkling that suggested that optimism may be linked the fact that you’ll get to see Simon and Johnny, opting not to even acknowledge the strange sensations swirling about inside your heart whenever you think about the other day. The day when the world stood still and Johnny touched your hand so gently, stroking his fingers over your skin, or when the elevator doors parted to reveal Simon and their baby, a sweet baby girl safe in his arms, his eyes alight and adoring, your knees almost giving out at the sight.

Needless to say, you’re eager to badge in.

The day is quickly derailed, when within a half an hour of getting settled into your routine, an alarm goes off for two sixty-eight: thirty-nine degrees.

Your mind immediately somersaults to the pain in his upper right quadrant from your last shift, logical thought leaping all around as you jog down the hall.

You notated it. You passed it on in shift report. It’s only thirty-nine. You did everything right. No one here would just disregard something like that. Deep breath. 

Still… 

Bile leak. Abscess. Infection. Or worse… hepatic artery pseudoaneurysm, hemorrhaging. Big things that could lead to worse things, worse outcomes, worse- 

The door comes up quicker than you realize, and without hesitating, you slip inside.

“Hi.” You’re a little breathless, and Simon’s eyes snap to yours, taking you in, studying from head to toe, brow knitted together. Johnny’s asleep, and you’re not sure if that makes you feel better, or worse.

“Everything alright?” Of course. He’s too perceptive. Get control of yourself, it could be nothing.

“Yeah, I ah… have to draw some blood.” You really do not want to wake your patient, or alarm Simon, but you refuse to lie. You fire off a text to the attending on call, advising him of Johnny’s temperature and reminding him of the upper right quadrant pain, letting him know he can expect labs as soon as you get them downstairs. You give Simon a nod, turning to slide the draw open quietly, pulling out everything you’ll need. His gaze burns a hole in your scrubs, the ever-present scrutiny impossible to escape, and sometimes you wonder if he’s reading your mind.

“What’s wrong? He just fell asleep, Pen was here all morning, tired him out.” His protest is husky, and you think he’s frowning behind the mask. You imagine a strong mouth pulled downwards in consternation; wide jaw gnashed tight with worry.

“He’s running just a bit of a fever.” He jolts, and you shake your head, hoping to soothe his fear. “It’s not too high. I’m not super worried, but we’ll need to check his white cell count, just in case, okay? And then we’ll go from there.” He nods.

“You said this could happen.” You smile. It feels unsteady, but you hope he can’t tell.

“I did. I promised, that if there was something to panic about, I would tell you. We’re not there yet.” It’s not a lie. Your wild spiral from a few minutes ago was an extreme, not reality, and you need to keep your head on.

“Okay.”

“Right. So, just going to do a quick blood draw and get it downstairs so we can find out what’s going on.” Simon shifts uncomfortably, and you carefully squeeze Johnny's arm, wrapping him with the tie and swabbing the inside of his elbow as fast as possible.

He blinks, eyes opening slowly, confused brow smoothing when he realizes you’re leaning over him, and his gaze darts to Simon before landing back on you. “There’s our bunny.” He mumbles softly, and your face heats, eyes widening in surprise before you regulate your reaction, and Simon coughs. Loudly. Bunny? 

“Such a flirt, MacTavish.” You playfully chastise him, relieved he’s feeling like himself. “I just need to get some blood and then I’ll leave you in peace to sleep.” He shrugs, but Simon rubs a thumb against his thigh in tiny little circles, too fast to be considered comfort, and Johnny clucks. “Ah, come on Si.”

“You’re runnin’ a fever, Johnny.”

“Ach. ‘s nothing.” He brushes it off, but his eyes are slow to track Simon’s movements, and you casually sneak a peek at the monitor, noting his blood pressure.

“Could be.” You assure him, smoothing a hand over his shoulder and taping a small patch of gauze over the puncture. “But better safe than sorry, right?”

The labs are inconclusive. The attending hems and haws before finally asking you to schedule a stat ultrasound of his abdomen, and you manage to bump him to the front of the queue, pulling a few strings here and there by rattling off some bullshit about being higher priority.

In the time it takes for the tech to get to two sixty-eight with the machine, you get a new admission. Intubated, but awake, and getting them and their family squared away takes longer than you would have liked, the patient’s middle-aged husband a wreck of nerves and worry, the kind of anxiety that makes you sit with him in the room for a little while, patting his hand and promising that you’ll be there for them, every step of the way.

By the time you step out of that room, it’s been nearly an hour. You catch a glimpse of Simon in the chairs outside two sixty-eight, and you throw him one of your best work smiles, hoping to reassure him, soothe his nerves. You want to go to him, want to sit beside him and talk him through everything, the outcomes, the possibilities, but you still need to add the notes for your new admit, and-

Someone catches your eye from the end of the hall. It’s a man, white, with brown hair, in regular clothes, and he stands taller than the others around him, shoulders rolled back just- just like-

No. You force yourself to look, to truly see him, taking in his facial features, the slope of his nose, and it’s hardly a second before you’re realizing it’s not who you thought it was. It’s not him. 

The second doesn’t matter to your heart. It’s already racing, tripling it’s steady pace inside your chest. You’re shaking, trembling in the middle of the hall, frantically looking for the nearest closet, or empty room, or…

Stairwell. There’s a stairwell just beyond where Simon is anxiously waiting, and you beeline to it, nearly tripping over your own feet past him. You think you hear your name being called, but the blood rushing in your ears is too loud, and you can’t be sure. Either way, it doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters right now is getting away. Hiding. Not letting yourself be noticed.

You take the first flight down, stopping on the landing to rest your face against the polished, cold wall, desperately trying to fill your lungs with air, encouraging yourself to breathe.

It wasn’t him. You’re safe. 

Deep breath. You can do this. 

Your fingers dig into your hips, squeezing through the numbness, through the overwhelming feeling of your impending doom, and your head swims, lightheadedness nearly knocking you off balance.

“It wasn’t him.” You whisper aloud. “It’s not him. You’re safe. Get it together.” You chant, eyes clenched tight. Your heart is still pounding, no sign of relenting, and your lungs burn, screaming inside you, desperate for air. The feeling of suffocating, of dying, grows stronger, gaining momentum, and your eyes slam shut, your mind and body locked in a tomb of panic and fear. 

You hear your name again. It’s sharper, authoritative, but you can’t open your eyes, too overwhelmed to even make sense of it. Deep breath, just breathe.  

Something touches your shoulder. It’s unexpected, and somewhere in the back of your mind, you register it as gentle, but you’re too far gone, too far buried beneath your fear and your panic and your shame. It triggers you into a defensive posture, and you flinch so hard you jostle yourself into the wall, turning into the corner, hands out in front of your face.

“Hey, hey.” It’s Simon. Simon is standing in the stairwell with you, palms open, concern heavy in his eyes, and you vaguely realize he’s talking, soft, deep words washing over you. “-to breathe?” He comes closer, only half a step, but it’s enough to startle you back into the corner, and he stops short. “It’s alright. I’m not going to touch you.” He soothes, and you recognize the pitch, the calm, affectionate tone from Johnny’s bedside. Sour nausea surges in your stomach, and your lungs fight the invisible hand that tightens around them. “Can you take a deep breath?” You shake your head, and he huffs a soft chuckle. “You can do it, just try. Through your nose, like this.” His chest expands, eye contact never breaking, and you try to follow suit, getting halfway before your head spins, vision tunneling. “You’re alright.”

You’re not alright. None of this is alright. You’re having a panic attack, in the stairwell at your job, in front of a patient’s partner. 

You can’t speak, so you shake your head instead. No.

“Yes, you are.” He assures. “Everything’s okay. Focus on your breathing. Try another one for me.” His hand covers his heart, and you focus on the way it ebbs and flows with the movement of his diaphragm, the pace of his breaths.

You manage to get one full inhale and exhale. And then you get another. Then a third, a fourth, until it’s coming easier, and your head doesn’t feel as fuzzy.

“Good job, that’s it.” Your fingers twist together, the grating noise of your jagged breathing smoothing out even more, and Simon nods encouragingly. “You’re doing great, sweetheart. Nice and slow.” Sweetheart. The word is bright, boundless and sweet as honey, the sentiment settling in your belly and growing warm. The two of you stand there, just breathing, staring at one another, for what feels like an eternity, until you find the strength to summon words. 

“I-I’m sorry.” You finally choke once you’ve got a better handle on yourself, hands going lax at your thighs.

“Nothin’ to be sorry about.” You’re about to brush it off, thorny lies starting to form in your mind, excuses and carefully crafted explanations fusing together when your work phone beeps, the low frequency different from the ones related to patient care. Shit. Already? Simon’s glances at it in your pocket and cocks his head.

“End of my shift.” You explain, moving towards the stairs, your hand trembling on the button to silence the alarm. The muscles in his neck flex, molars grinding together.

“Still feeling a little shaky?” He observes, and you look down to your feet, mortification crawling up your spine, blooming across your cheeks through heated blood vessels.

“Um…”

“Would you mind, maybe sitting with Johnny for a bit?” You do still have notes to do. “If his test is done? I have to run home, help the Prices' put Penny down. She’s been a bit fickle, lately. Missin’ her Da.” He rubs the back of his neck, chest flexing inside the charcoal grey hoodie, and for a weird, too long second, you wonder what it might be like to fall asleep there, or just close your eyes for a minute, even though it's something sweet and far away, unobtainable in every facet. Simon says your name, jogging your attention, and then takes the first step, partially turning like he wants to reach for you, but thinks better of it.

“Uh. Yeah, I… I can.”

You badge out and grab your stuff, keeping your tablet so you can complete your notes while you sit with Johnny. You’ve already checked his results, and when you slip inside the room, the attending is updating them, explaining how he has a very small bile leak, and will need an endoscopic procedure tomorrow morning.

The attending excuses himself, giving you a quick nod, and then Simon leans down, knocking their foreheads together tenderly. 

“Keep an eye on him, I hear he likes to make trouble.” Johnny smiles, pink-red color creeping up his neck into his cheeks, and Simon seems like he’s smiling, before he turns serious. “Behave. I won’t be too long.”

“I always behave.” He pats the side of the bed, beckoning you, and you shake your head, plopping down in the recliner to his right.

“I hear ye’re keepin’ me company, pretty girl?”

“I am. Got some notes to finish, heard this chair was pretty comfortable.” You quip back easily, and it feels natural, to be joking and laughing, to be hiding again.

“Well, I’ll try not to distract ye then.”

Your tablet clicks dark with a satisfying shutter, and when you place it face down, Johnny gives you one of his stupidly handsome smiles. “All finished?”

“Yeah, not too bad.” His phone vibrates against the tabletop, and with his good hand, he opens the message, turning it to show you the screen. It’s a picture of Penny, half asleep against Simon, clad in a pink onesie covered in little ducks. Her cheek is squished against him, long baby lashes fluttering on her skin. “She’s so cute.” You say, and he nods, flushed with pride. You glance at the contact name, Lou, and before you can stop yourself, a question bursts out: “Who’s Lou?”

“Our captain’s wife. She’s been helpin’ a lot, with Pen. Which is great, they’re getting a lot of girl time.”

“Your captain?”

“Aye.”

“Is that…” you want to ask but trail off. You don’t want to admit that you’ve heard gossip about them.

“Military. Simon an’ I work together, in a task force.” A task force. A task force sounds eerily close to special ops, and your nausea comes back with a vengeance.

“What… what kind of task force?”

“Global ops. Anti-terrorism, domestic threats, the lot. How I ended up here, with ye.” The image of your ex looms, his body tense in his gear, or the memory of his boots, sitting shiny by the door, one of them pulling back, swinging towards your stomach. “Bun?” Bun?

“Huh?” you blink. “Oh, sorry. Spaced out there for a second.”

“That’s alright. Simon said ye had a bit of a scare earlier?”

“No I uh, just couldn’t catch my breath, but I was fine. It was fine.” You deflect, moving on as quick as you can manage. “Did you call me bun? And… didn’t you call me bunny, earlier?” He gives you a sheepish look.

“Aye. Is our nickname for ye.”

“Wait, what? Why?”

“Well… ye look a bit like a bunny, and ye had that sticker the other day that Penny noticed.” Your face heats. “I know ye’re probably real soft like a bun, too.” Real soft? Is he… does he mean- your eyes widen, and he smirks.

“Johnny.” You flounder, helplessly, confused by his attention, this flirtation that seems to have grown into real affection, and he shifts slightly, leaning forward, reaching for your hand.

“Ye dinnae need to be afraid.” He coos. The words are a moon above a tide, pulling and reaching, dragging the swell of the waves higher and higher, until they threaten to pull you under, overwhelm you and drown you.

“I…” I don’t understand? I thought you were gay? I don’t know what is happening here? Johnny grimaces, and you immediately forget about the conversation and leap into action, jumping to your feet. “What is it? Where’s your pain?” Your hands hover over his belly, and he points to where his liver currently sits, slowly leaking inside his body, spilling bile that could eventually kill him if it hadn’t been caught. You pull down the blanket, unsnapping his gown to push it aside, checking for anything physically observable, site swelling, a rash, anything. “Does this hurt?” You cautiously press down, tapping slightly, watching his face for a reaction.

“No.” he says, and when you reach over to his other side, turning to watch his facial expressions, he moves with you, barely leaning, chin pointed in your direction.

His face is suddenly incredibly close to your face. And he looks… so handsome. So pretty, with his bright blue eyes and perfect bones, soft lips that part with an inhale. He dazzles you. Distracts you.

This is your patient, get it together. You’re a professional, act like it. 

“Does that hurt?” You croak, and his lips quirk into a half smile, a warm palm gliding over the small of your back.

“It doesnae hurt, bun.” He winks.

“Oh my god, were you faking?” You try to stand up, but the pressure on your spine is firm, and he chuckles.

“Can I tell ye a secret?” He’s fully serious now, question whispered just above your ear, and you nod.

“Of course.”

“Ye’v been drivin’ me mad today, pretty girl. Walkin’ around here wit’ no panties on.” Oh. Oh… my god. You shoot upwards, hand covering your mouth in shock, and he laughs, raising an eyebrow before his gaze drifts over the curve of your hip.

“Johnny!” you hiss, scandalized, and then guilt hits you like a train, like two tons of rocks have been dropped on top of you. Simon. “Johnny, you… you and Simon, you’re-“

“We’re lucky ye’ve come into our lives.” He finishes, and you frown, confused. “We think ye’re really special.” We. We?

“What did I miss?” Simon says from the doorway, and you jerk, stepping back like Johnny’s bed is on fire and you’ve just been burnt, eyes wide and wild. You feel like a child, caught with a hand in the cookie jar, but Simon doesn’t look angry. Just curious.

“Jus’ talking.” Johnny replies, and he starts to lower his bed, watching you with heavy eyes.

“Well. I should get going. I’ve got a few trains to make.” You glance at the clock, and then give them both a polite smile. Simon crosses his arms.

“Looks like you tired him out.” He comments, and they glance at one another, some sort of communication happening silently before he shrugs. “Let me drive you.”

“Oh, no. I couldn’t. It’s not… you just got back, and I’m fine, really. It’s not that far, I-“

“If it’s not that far, let him drive ye.” Johnny pipes up, and Simon piles on easily. 

"He's not going to let this go, and neither am I. Let me get you home safely, please." You shouldn't. You really, really shouldn't. "It's the least we can do." Your shoulders slump in defeat. It’s just a ride. It’s not crossing a line.

“Okay, then.” Johnny smiles, and Simon moves to his side, brushing his mask covered mouth against his forehead.

“She go down okay?” Johnny murmurs, tenderly cupping his cheek. 

“Like a champ. Promised I’d bring her tomorrow morning. Think she understood me.”

“Aye. She’s smarter than ye, so probably.” He teases, and they share a lighthearted laugh before Johnny’s bidding you a goodbye, and Simon directs you out the door.

“Uh, right here is fine.” You point to the curb, and Simon slows the car to a stop, turning to face you with that ever-present scrutiny, brows shoved down above his eyes.

“A hotel?” You swallow.

“My um, my flat is being renovated. It’s a whole thing so I just figured I wo-would stay somewhere else.” You want to flee, run out of this car and away from him, but he holds you in place so easily with just his eyes, so you sit there, frozen, one hand on the door handle, the other splayed against your thigh.

“Is everything alright? Earlier-“

“I’m fine.” You rush out, cutting him off. It’s well practiced, the denial, the avoidance, these things that you normally excel out.

But nothing is normal with them. 

He cocks his head, and then nods, and you breathe a little easier, turning to push the door open.

“Wait.” A hand tugs at you, thick, warm fingers lightly touching your wrist, and you whip back around to face him, eyes wide. “If you ever need anything, Johnny and I… we’re here.” Why is your heart beating so fast? 

“Oh, I uh… I’m fine, I don’t need-“

“That doesn’t work on me. Johnny either, pretty girl.” He tells you, and it’s so firm, so strong backed, that your mouth goes dry, and you gape at him. What? What doesn’t work? Is he… is he saying he doesn’t buy it? Doesn’t believe you? He’s reading your mind, subtly raising an eyebrow, and then nodding. “Put my number in your phone.” He instructs, and like a robot, like a vampire’s Thrall, you pull it from your bag, swiping open the contact list and pressing each number in the order he gives it. “We’ll see you tomorrow?” He asks once you’re finished, and you mumble a shaky yes, finally pushing the door open, and climbing out.

“Alright, well. Good night.” You bend at the waist, giving him a wave through the window, and his jaw moves beneath the mask, shifting to the side, eyes squinting at the corners. He's smiling. 

“Good night, bunny.”

[foxy-eva]

Rite of Passage

Summary: Spencer is home alone with his daughter when she gets her period for the first time

Request: Spencer and Reader are married. They have a teenage daughter who gets her period for the first time (initially requested to @imagining-in-the-margins)

Pairing: Technically Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader but it’s mostly about Spencer and his daughter!

Category: Comfort, Fluff

Content Warnings: mentions blood, menstruation, period hygiene, cramps, female anatomy and biology, crying, food

Author's Note: I wrote this for @/imagining-in-the-margins Kid Fic Writing Challenge! 

Masterlist

Sunday mornings always brought a certain calmness with them. Spencer was still half asleep when you kissed him goodbye, leaving for a little day trip with your friends when the sun was barely up. 

Spencer mumbled something that should have sounded like I love you before he closed his eyes once more, looking forward to some father-daughter quality time with your wonderful kid Marie. 

That was until he was awoken by shrill screams coming from her room. 

You were long gone when Spencer jumped out of bed, all of his years working with the FBI having him expect the worst. He rushed into his daughter’s room, finding her sitting in her bed, a look of horror spread across her face. 

“Are you okay!?” Spencer almost yelled when he reached her bedside. 

His daughter slowly shook her head while pulling back the blanket, revealing small blood stains on her pajama pants and the sheets. It only took Spencer a split second to realize what was happening. His facial features softened instantly. 

He thought he still had a few more months, maybe even another year, until this would happen. He had also hoped that you would be home for this occasion, certainly handling this a lot better than he ever could. 

“Oh sweetie,” he cooed while sitting down on the edge of her bed. “I think you got your period.”

Instead of saying anything, Marie just buried her face in her hands and started wailing. Spencer wasn’t sure if she was still in shock or if the general discomfort made her cry. 

“It’s okay. It just means you’re becoming a woman.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, he wished he could have taken them back. He hated the thought that his little girl was actually growing up more than anything. And it certainly didn't help in this moment. 

Without thinking about it, he did what he was most comfortable with and started rambling, “We talked about this, do you remember? It means that your uterine lining is shedding which results in the discharge of blood through your–”

“Dad!” She cried. “Please stop talking about my… you know! It’s weird!”

“I’m sorry, I’ll stop.” 

His little girl wiped away some tears from her cheeks before muttering, “Where’s mom? I wanna talk to her.”

Spencer sighed. He would have liked nothing more than to be able to let you take over right then. “She already left for her day trip. She won’t be home until six.” 

This explanation only led to more crying. Spencer reached out his hand to offer comfort with a gentle touch on her arm but Marie shied away from him.

“I feel gross,” she whined. 

“Why don’t you hop in the shower to get clean and then change into fresh clothes?” 

It seemed like he finally said something helpful. Her sobs simmered down as she got up from her bed to walk over to the bathroom, locking the door behind her. Spencer quickly changed the sheets and put out some clean clothes for his daughter before disappearing in his bedroom.

He let out a loud breath as he reached for his phone to call you. Before you could say anything, he blurted out, “She got her period and won’t stop crying and I don’t know what to do!”

“Oh my poor girl! Is she with you right now?” You wanted to know. 

“She’s in the shower. Can you please come home?” 

You knew that he wasn’t being serious. A quiet laugh escaped our mouth before you said, “Don't be so dramatic, Spencer. I’m sure you're very capable of handling this.”

“I told her that her uterine lining was shedding. It was not helpful,” he sighed. 

“Yeah, maybe hold off on the biology lesson for now. You know where my pads are, right?”

“Oh yeah, right. She's gonna need them.” Spencer paused for a second. “Oh god, what if she wants to use a tampon? I can’t explain that to her. That conversation will make the both of us cry.” 

“Give her a pad for now, those are self-explanatory. I can talk to her about tampons later if she wants.”

“Okay, okay, yeah. She just turned off the shower, I gotta go!” 

“Good luck! And stop panicking!” 

That was easier said than done. Spencer almost jumped when he heard Marie knocking on the bedroom door. 

“You can come in!” 

His daughter, tightly wrapped in a bathrobe, stepped into the room. She had stopped crying but still seemed upset. Spencer’s heart always broke a little when he saw his little girl in discomfort.

“I’m still uhm…bleeding,” she whispered. 

“Yes, that's gonna last a couple of days,” Spencer replied with a soft voice. He disappeared in the master bathroom for a second to get a pack of pads. “Here. Do you know how to use them?”

“I’m not an idiot, dad,” she snubbed.

The tone of her voice gave away how irritated she was. Usually Spencer would remind her to be more respectful but decided to let it slide this time. 

“I know, Mimi. I just wanted to make sure,” he said instead. 

The use of this nickname for his daughter was yet another reminder of a time that seemed so long gone right then. Marie had trouble pronouncing her own name as a toddler so she’d say Mimi instead. Spencer loved it so much that he stuck with it ever since. 

Without saying another word, she disappeared in her room. Spencer rubbed his temples for a moment before getting ready for the day himself. He decided to give his daughter some space and prepare breakfast in the meantime. 

He was focussed on not burning the chocolate chip pancakes he was making when Marie stepped into the kitchen. 

“I’m sorry I snapped at you,” she mumbled. 

Spencer turned his head to smile at his daughter. “It's okay, sweetie. I know you aren’t feeling well.”

She placed her hands on her lower stomach and muttered, “It hurts.”

“Here,” Spencer said as he reached for the hot water bottle he had already prepared. “Heat has a proven effect on relieving period cramps.”

“Thank you.” 

A timid smile appeared on her face when she realized her father was preparing her favorite breakfast. She stepped closer to catch a glimpse of the pan while chirping, “Chocolate chip pancakes?” 

“You know I’d do anything to make you feel better, Mimi,” Spencer spoke in a soft voice while offering his daughter a hug. 

This time she accepted, tightly wrapping her arms around him. Spencer was relieved that he didn’t mess up yet another thing. Marie was very bright and realized something Spencer had thought about earlier, too. 

“Wait,” she said as she stepped back. “You always make mom her favorite meal when she’s in a bad mood.”

“You have a lot in common with your mother, “ he explained. “I figured I should try what works for her.” 

“Now you’ll have to deal with two cranky girls in the house,” Marie laughed while taking out two plates. 

“I really don't mind,” he sincerely replied. “I can’t imagine what it’s like to have all kinds of uncomfortable side effects during your period. Taking care of your mom – and now you – is the least I could do.”

After a moment of silence she said, “Earlier you said that I’m becoming a woman now. I thought about that when I was in the shower… What if I don't wanna grow up yet?” 

“I don’t know if that helps, but… You’ll always be my little girl,” Spencer responded while filling both plates with pancakes. 

“So you’ll still watch Disney movies with me?” 

A wide smile spread over Spencer’s face as he took the plates to walk over to the couch. “I was hoping you'd ask!”

Please like, reblog and leave a comment! I need your lovely words to stay motivated to write more stories.

Taglist: @nomajdetective @reidsbookclub @gspenc @samuel-de-champagne-problems @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @malindacath @reidselle @alexxavicry @frickin-bats @spencersprettyslut @sebs-oxygen @happymangospot @cynbx @hotchandspencearedilfs @emiliaserpe @thenerdthatwrites @velvetthunder93 @saturnstringz @missabsey @guacam011y @hugyourlungs @reiderwriter @enamoradax @hales-17 @cham9ions @loaksulluyswife @ecneremili @xserenax-13 @grumpyy-bearr @luredwithpretzels @castiels-majestic-wings @super-nerd22 @pleasantwitchgarden @yeonalie @r-3dlips @evvy96 @torigorie @meyaareads @luvdella @luvley2k @bunnylovesani

[railingsofsorrow]

drabble #11

summary: you are caught red handed squinting while reading and your coworkers don't let it slide.

w.c: 682

warnings/content: no warnings just fluff and bickering between friends; annoyance towards dirty lenses (based on a personal experience); secret relationship (implied).

navi

masterpost

cm masterlist

━━━━━━━━━

“pretty girl.”

you were writing something down in a post-it note that you thought was relevant for the investigation before derek's voice came out of nowhere, startling you.

you look up at him, frowning, “why do you have to sneak up on people like that?”

“where are your glasses?” he inquired, narrowing you down with a suspicious look. his arms crossed over his chest as he had the serious stance he usually carried when he was trying to figure someone out. you straightened your back slightly, choosing to go back to your reading since you didn't have a reading speed of 20 000 words per minute and you also didn't want to answer that question.

see, here's the thing. glasses are annoying. dealing with dirty lenses is the worst part of wearing them, because as soon as you clean them up, they get absolutely filthy in the next second. also, you broke your lenses at least three times given your line of work.

so, yes, you purposely forgets them a few days a week to not deal with these issues.

maybe more than just a few days a week.

and your coworkers decided to make a comment or give you a look every time they catch you squinting up at a page.

“hey,” you glared up at derek morgan as he flickered your case file much to your annoyance. “i'm talking to you. where are your glasses? can you even see me right now?”

“shut up, derek.”

“do I need to get you a new pair to leave it here in the office?” he asked with indignation written all over his face. “that's the only way you'll wear them!”

“I don't need to wear them.” you practically hissed at him before he broadcasted the conversation into the entire bullpen. “they're reading glasses, it's not like I need to have them on all the time.”

“the strength of your glasses recently increased to 2. so you do need to wear them if you don't want it to get worst.” spencer dropped his things on his desk, butting in on the conversation as if he had been invited. you scowled, not the slightest amused. he only shrugged.

“see what I'm saying, pretty girl?” derek gave you a look. he resigned with a ruffle to your hair then walked away to make some coffee.

you let out a sigh, fixing up your strands in frustration.

“here.” you looked down at the object placed in your lap. “you forgot it at my place last night.” you blinked up at him, mouth agape.

“i-what?”

“at the bedside table?” spencer gave you a look. the faint memory of your eyeglasses case on top of his bedside table came to your mind.

which was why you couldn't recall where your glasses were at home. you had been late for work and decided to give up on the search.

but they weren't even at your place.

“I cleaned them up.” he added.

“oh. right.” you took the case from him, a coat of pink painting your cheeks. you hoped he didn't expect you were going to wear them. “thank you.”

“thankfully you didn't purposely forgot it at home, right?” spencer softly teased, poking your hip which earned a kick in his ankle.

“shut up.”

he chuckled, stealthily eyeing the bullpen that was fairly empty because it was still early in the morning. he leaned down and quickly pecked your cheek then the corner of your mouth.

“spencer!” you hissed, a warning in your tone as you looked around for any prying eyes.

grinning cheeky at you, he took a few steps back. probably to go to the kitchen to grab the coffee derek was taking too long to bring. “movie night at 8 again?” he mouthed.

with a roll of your eyes, you nod “yes.” you mouthed in return, sticking your attention back to the twenty files to be finished at your desk.

“put your glasses on!” he said out loud on purpose, now attracting attention.

you groaned, hiding your face between your hands.

idiot. an absolute idiot.

━━━━━━━━━

taglist: @lilyviolets

[steddiealltheway]

“We shouldn’t do this,” Steve pants against Eddie’s lips, rushing to kiss him again as Eddie pins him further against his front door.

Eddie breaks the kiss with a hum, pressing another kiss against the corner of Steve’s lips and across the two moles of his face before kissing down his neck. “We really shouldn’t,” Eddie agrees, voice low before he softly bites at Steve’s neck.

Steve groans as his head thuds back against his front door. “This is such a bad idea,” he breathes out, closing his eyes as Eddie sucks a bruise into his neck.

“The worst,” Eddie says, pulling back with a wet smack to admire his work before pressing his thumb against the sore skin.

Steve bites his bottom lip and pulls his hands away from Eddie’s waist. “We should stop.”

Eddie nods and takes a few steps back away from him. “We should.”

Steve stares at him for a moment nodding. Really it’s for the best. There’s no way they’d work out. And Steve isn’t really one for flings anymore. He wants the real deal. And Eddie doesn’t want that. He’s sure of it. And if they were to cross this line any further, Steve wouldn’t be able to stop himself from crossing it again.

Steve’s eyes track down to where Eddie’s chest is heaving up and down as he stares at him, hair slightly wild from where Steve’s hands were before. Then, Eddie slowly wets his lips, and Steve’s done for.

They both move together as if an unstoppable force is controlling them, crashing their lips together as their hands roam freely, Steve’s hands smoothly gliding against Eddie as Eddie’s nails scratch over him. Steve can’t get enough of it.

Eddie pulls away and grabs Steve by the shoulders. “Wait, wait, wait. The kids. We can’t do this to them.”

Steve nods. “Of course we can’t. They’d freak out if they found out.”

“So we should stop.”

“Definitely.”

They both stare at each other, eyes searching the other’s to find some hint of reluctance and give. Eddie’s hands slowly slip down Steve’s arms as he pulls away from him again.

As soon as Eddie’s hands leave Steve’s body, Steve reaches out and latches onto them. He shrugs. “What they don’t know won’t hurt them.”

Eddie’s eyes light up as he smiles, moving forward to kiss Steve again, but this time, Steve can feel him smiling into it. He practically melts when he realizes it, but quickly pulls away again. “Wait.”

Eddie fully stops and stares at him with no hint of frustration which warms Steve’s heart. Steve sighs and rests his forehead on Eddie’s shoulder. “We should stop while we can.”

Eddie tilts his head down and pressed a soft kiss against Steve’s head. “We should.”

Steve squeezes his arm and steps back, trying to even out his breathing as he walks Eddie to the door.

It’s a strange deja vu that accompanies the walk, mirroring how they ended up like this in the first place. Eddie had stayed behind to help Steve clean up after the kids left, and as Steve walked him to the door, they both lingered in their goodbyes. And then something broke between them, and Steve’s unsure who kissed who first.

But as Steve’s hand finds the door handle again, he finds himself hesitating. Eddie smiles shyly at him and pulls a strand of hair in front of his face. “I guess this is goodbye.”

Steve nods and pulls the door fully open this time. “Thank you for helping me clean up and… everything.”

Eddie chuckles and buries his hands in his pocket with a shrug. “Anytime.”

Steve swallows, wanting to take him up on his offer and turn anytime into right now. But he just steps back and says. “Goodbye, Eds.”

“Bye, Stevie,” Eddie says, walking through the door and offering him a slight wave.

Steve returns it before softly shutting the door. He thuds his head against it and takes a deep breath. It’s for the best.

But is it?

How are they going to navigate things from here? It’s not like Steve will be able to easily forget this; he’s always going to long for this. And the bruise isn’t going to fade in a day. Will it remain as a torturous reminder of what could’ve been?

Steve sighs. “Fuck this,” he says pulling the door open only to find Eddie on the other side, hand raised as if to knock.

Eddie hurriedly says, “I can’t just… we can’t. This is…” He steps through the doorway and cups Steve’s face. “I can’t pass up this opportunity. Not when I’ve waited forever for this.”

Steve’s brows furrow. “Waited forever?”

Eddie huffs out a humorless laugh. “Steve, I’ve liked you for so long, and I don’t care if you don’t want more. It’s pathetic, but I’ll take what I can get. And if that’s just friends with benefits then-”

“What?” Steve asks, overwhelming confused and rushing to catch up.

Eddie sighs and rests his forehead against Steve’s. “Just kiss me again please.”

Steve takes a small step back and watches as Eddie’s face falls. “No, no. It’s not… Eddie, you like me?”

Eddie shoves his hands in his pockets. “I won’t ever mention it again. Don’t worry. I should go.”

He turns to leave, and Steve rushes to grab his arm. “Stop. Wait.”

Eddie hesitantly turns to him with regret and embarrassment written all over his face.

“Eddie, I like you, too. I thought you would want this to only be a fling which is why I said it was a bad idea. I knew if I let myself cross that line with you, I could never go back.”

Eddie pauses and steps closer to him. “You’re serious?”

“Dead serious,” Steve states as he reaches out to grab Eddie’s hand, rubbing a thumb over his knuckles. “And I’d really like to kiss you again. Go on a date even. Maybe even fall in love or something,” Steve says with a laugh.

Eddie laughs and rushes forward, pulling Steve into a tight hug. “God, I never thought this was possible.”

“Me either,” Steve confesses, pulling Eddie in tighter.

They melt into the hug and slowly pull back, moving in naturally to kiss each other, sweetly and slowly now that they have all the time in the world. And they’re going to use it well.

[icryyoumercy]

i feel like airplane operations would benefit from an overreact/underreact checklist?

if something is ... possibly wrong, not entirely sure, i might be too nit-picky, there's some things it's better to under-react to because it's not a big deal, nothing bad is going to happen, it's just annoying/uncomfortable/unnecessary, so there is no need to make a fuss and upset everyone

and some things it's better to over-react to because if something really is wrong, shit is going to explode or burst into flames or some other really seriously extremely dangerously bad things, and the minor annoyance of a false alarm is far preferable to sudden unexpected death

and i feel like the one basic, fundamental, necessary, required, if there is only one such thing to over-react over would be anything concerning the engines and fuel

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

He's My Man (Part 1)

Summary: The reader receives an anonymous text from a new client needing an off the books patch job. However he's annoyingly good looking and the last thing you need is some ex-special ops guy hanging around. Unfortunately for you, Russell Shaw isn't the kind of guy to walk away when he knows something's wrong...

Masterlist

Pairing: Russell Shaw x reader

Word Count: 2,000ish

Warnings: language, gun shot injury

A/N: Contains minor spoilers for Tracker 1x12. Please enjoy the start of this new series! I'm not sure how long it will go but thanks for coming on this ride with me!

__________

Your ears perked up on Saturday morning when your phone buzzed on the coffee table before you. Not your everyday one but your one for work. You swiped it open, pursing your lips when you saw it was from an unknown number.

Need a patch job on a quilt. Doug recommended you as a good seamstress in the area.

Alright, well at least this guy knew one of your clients. Doug wasn’t a regular but you’d seen him once or twice over the years which meant the person on the other end wasn’t a cop most likely.

I can fit you in. More complicated the patch, the more it’ll cost.

Not an issue.

You hummed and stood up, grabbing your coffee mug along the way.

129 Edwards Ave in twenty minutes. Use the red back door.

You took a long sip and went over to the kitchen, tossing the rest down the sink, leaving the mug to be cleaned later. 

You just hoped this job wasn’t as bad as the last one.

Eighteen minutes later you heard the back door open and then silence, a moment’s hesitation as your new client entered what looked like a storage area. You flipped a light switch, illuminating the small enter sign over the doorway to the room you were prepping in. A few moments later there were heavy boots against the cement ground as he entered, turning to tile, your head lifting. 

A man in his forties, a quite handsome one at that, gave the small operating room a cursory glance before settling on you, determining you were the only one there. Meanwhile your gaze shot to his injured left arm, a gunshot from the looks of it. You only spotted one bloody bullet hole and figured that was the worst of it from the way he cradled his forearm.

“You the seamstress?” he asked quietly, scanning the counter full of medical equipment and metal table in the center of the room. 

“Take a seat,” you said, patting the table. You went to a sink and washed up, making sure to keep him in view at all times. He winced and struggled to get the coat off, finally managing and revealing a quick patch job had been done. After drying your hands, you snapped on some gloves, the man’s coat and overshirt now on the table behind him.

“Russell Shaw by the way,” he said.

“Y/N,” you said, carefully taking his forearm in one hand, the top of his muscular bicep in the other. You turned his arm slightly, Russell wincing again. “Looks like a through and through. We’ll do a quick x-ray to make sure there’s no shrapnel and then we’ll get you stitched up and I’ll send you home with some supplies and instructions to care for it. This your only injury?”

“Yeah. Doug said you were good.”

“I am,” you said, offering him a brief smile, he returned. “Do you have any PTSD? Going to come at me if I I need to use a scalpel?”

“No,” he chuckled. “I’m good with all that.”

You hummed, guiding him to lay back. Three minutes later you were pushing your x-ray machine aside and taking the lead vest away, Russell sitting upright. 

“Can I ask a question?” 

“You can ask, don’t mean I’ll answer, sweetie,” you said back, hanging up the vest and going to your laptop on the counter.

“How does one get into this line of work?” he asked.

“Asks the man that’s ex-special ops and does private contract gigs, not to mention killed probably three people minimum tonight.” You glanced over to him, Russell tilting his head. “I know who Doug is and what he does. Makes sense you do it too. You have blood under your fingernails and given the splatter patterns on your jeans, you had multiple different angled shots so multiple bodies you hit.”

“...And you don’t report that sort of thing?” he asked cautiously. You determined his x-ray looked good and washed up again, putting on more new gloves. By the time you were standing before him again, he looked nervous.

“On occasion. But only the monsters. You, you don’t strike me as a monster, Russell,” you said, wiping some antiseptic over his entry and exit wounds. He flinched but only slightly at the quick burn. A moment later you were giving him something to numb the area.

“Someone took Doug. Someone bad. They would have come back if I hadn’t done what needed to be done.” You wiped sterile gauze over his wound and then flushed it, Russell watching your graceful movements with interest.

“Like I said, not a monster.” You hummed as you worked, Russell fixated on you carefully cleaning and then pulling the skin back together, tying it up neatly. You wiped away the evidence of his blood and wrapped his bicep in thick gauze, taping it down so he could still get movement without worrying about it coming off.

You chucked your gloves in the trash and nodded back to the door behind you.

“There’s a shower in there and some brushes. Turn it on low, scrub yourself clean, under your nails too. Use the blue soap. When you’re done, throw everything away in the bin, including your bloody clothes. You leave your boots, anything you want to keep out here with me. There’s men’s sweats and some shirts on the shelf. By the time you’re done, your boots and other items will have no trace of wherever you’ve been. Got it?”

“I do like a woman that takes charge.” He smirked, sliding off the table and dropping slowly to kneel to unlace his shoes, still looking up at you. “Full service deal you got going here.”

“Yes it is and here’s a friendly reminder for my new client. You come anywhere near me with your dick out, I’ll make you regret being alive. Understand, sweetie?” you said, patting his cheek. “Off you go.”

“God damn, I love you,” he muttered under his breath. You rolled your eyes but smirked when your back was to him. Ten minutes later the room was clean and Russell exited the bathroom with damp, slicked back hair wearing a plain white t-shirt, black hanes sweat pants and white socks. You nodded to where his shoes sat on the end of the counter, Russell taking a seat in the chair nearby as he slipped them on.

After he checked he had his phone, keys and wallet, he raised himself to his feet, pulling out his wallet. 

“What do I owe you?”

“A thousand.” To your surprise, he didn’t flinch at that number. But like most of your clients, he didn’t have the cash on him, at least not that much. Russell smirked as he glanced back in the bathroom.

“Smart woman. You keep the evidence as ransom until your clients pay up. You won’t destroy that until after I pay, will you.” 

“Not until we get to know each other better do I do that sort of thing without payment. Seeing as you’re new and a friend of Doug’s, I’ll give you to the end of next week to pull it together. I offer payment plan options and other alternative forms of care if shit ever really hit the fan for you.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” he said, putting down five hundred dollar bills. “I can bring the other half back here later today. Just need to run to an ATM.”

“Text me when you got the rest. I’ll send you a place to meet,” you said, nodding towards the door. He gave you a small salute and shook his head with a smile. 

Forty minutes later you were sitting at a table in the cafe three blocks over, happily sipping on your coffee while working your way through a cheese danish. You spotted Russell when he came in. He gave you a quick, adorably awkward wave and ordered himself a drink. A few minutes later he was sitting down across from you, a small cup and what appeared to be a banana muffin in hand.

“You’re a coffee snob aren’t you. This place is pricey,” he teased, his brow furrowing when he had a drink from his styrofoam cup. “Shit. That’s fucking good.”

“Beats whatever motel crap I’m sure you’re used to,” you said, his gaze hardening for a split second. “Sorry. I always tail my first time clients to make sure they aren’t…you know who. You know the Elkwood Lodge on route 8 is cleaner and cheaper than what you’re paying for now.”

“How would you know that?” he asked. You shrugged and simply grinned, taking another bite of danish. He licked his lips, pointing at the yet to be touched danish beside you. “Was that one for me?”

“God no. I fucking love danishes and these are incredible,” you said, finishing off the first and biting into the other.

“You are something else,” he said, smirking when he slid a white envelope across the table. You tucked it into your jacket pocket, Russell picking at his own muffin. “You ain’t going to check it’s all there?”

“You’re a smart man, Russell. I think you know not to screw me over.” He looked you up and down, earning a pointed response. “Keep that gutter mind to yourself.”

“If I’m in the gutter, you’re right there with me,” he said, absently rubbing his injured arm. “And uh, if it gets infected or I think it is, I should reach out?”

“Absolutely. That ain’t a normal injury you’re used to. Don’t play tough guy, tough guy.” He nodded, his body twisting ever so slightly towards a standing position. “Nope. Stay for at least five minutes, then you can go.”

“You really like telling me what to do, don’t you,” he grinned. 

“Russell.” Hss grin was wide before he took a long drag of coffee, humming as it went down. 

“What if I want to stay more than five minutes?” You paused mid-chew of your danish. “Come on, one conversation won’t kill you.”

“I don’t get involved with clients.”

“Alright. I respect that but this ain’t my end goal. I’m going to have a normal life someday. I make a pretty mean homebrew. Going to get some land, open up a brewery, have some food, make it a little family place everybody can enjoy. So that’s my goal. I sure as hell know working as a seamstress ain’t your end goal either. So again, what’s the harm in one conversation?”

You bit your bottom lip, Russell’s expression changing, ever so slightly. 

“Jesus, Y/N,” he muttered. “What-“

“Shut up,” you mumbled. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Your fucking face did. You don’t want to be a seamstress, do you? Can you not get out of your line of work?” You glanced out the window, even the wonderful flavors of the pastry doing nothing to help the unease in your gut. “I can help you.”

“I don’t need your help,” you snapped. You sighed, rubbing your temple. “Sorry. I…I’m just crabby because I didn’t have my morning coffee until just now.”

“Nice try.” You glared at him, his green eyes remarkably gentle. “I don’t leave my friends behind. Now either you tell me what’s going on or I’m going to poke around myself and I guarantee that’s going to be a lot more dangerous and you’ll just have to patch me up even more. What do you say?”

You stared at him and stared at him and stared at him for what felt like forever. Then you took out the envelope and handed it back to him, along with the five hundred in your purse. 

“Go buy me two more cheese danishes and a large caramel frappe to go. Then take me to your motel room. This is a long fucking story.”

__________

A/N: Read Part 2 here!

[unnerd]

Places you should add to your little town/city in your fantasy world!!

Post offices. Wild, I know. But give me the unhinged kind. Pingeons and little postal dragons all over the place. You enter. The most disgusting smell fucking assaults your nostrils. You know what it is. Letter in hand, you go up to the counter. The postal worker is just a slightly bigger pigeon. You shed a tear.

PLAYGROUNDS!! Create the most dangerous kinds of playgrounds, the ones suburban moms would TRIP if they ever saw one. Monkey bars that are way too tall, swings that go full circle... The metal slide stays the same, it's already painful enough.

PARKS!! MAKE IT ALIVE!! Show people going on walks, reading beneath trees. C'mon most of them are already hundred years old (And are going to die after that CR 15 creature wrecks the town) anyways!! Show couples and picnics, show a family enjoying the sunday, give me someone picking flowers for their loved ones.

A bakery! Do you know how much these places are underrated? And do you know how much plot potential they have? Every good story starts with food poisoning or granny's recipe! Give me a place your players/readers are going to treat like home and, for once, it's not a tavern or a guild.

Government buildings! Give me a town hall that has a kilometric line in front of it. Give me a registry that is as old as this town. Give me police stations! Give me courtrooms! Make one of your players get arrested and now all of the party has to go through burocracy like a bunch of normal people!

(Who am I kidding? You don't need to make them get arrested. They are going to do that for you.)

Touristic attractions! Give me a full-on statue of the country's leader! Give me museums! Give me streets, ruins and whatnot that attract thousands of tourists everyday! Give me an annoying city guide that tries to get the party's attention everytime!

Magazine stands! Magazines don't exist? Newspaper stands! From the Queen's Journal to the most questionable new piece of Fox's Tailtracker, you have it all! Make your players doubt what's actually happening, sprinkle a little fake news... Or is it fake at all?

...Toy stores. OK HEAR ME OUT. Make magic toys; miniature skyships that actually fly, metal toy dragons that expel fire, little wands that make little light spells, wooden creatures that can move and make noises... Make children happy! And your players too because they will waste their money on these stuff.

Instrument store!! Make your bards happy with special instruments or just weird ones! Give me a battle in one of those that is just filled with funny noises and the worst battle soundtrack ever!!

Not exactly a place but... Cleaning carts!!! Show me people cleaning the streets, picking up the trash, cutting trees!! Make the town look clean!! Give me an old man that is really proud of his work!!!

(or ways to make your players feel even worse when the villain destroys the town later on :) )

[kooktrash]

summer bummer, baby | jeon jungkook [1 of 2]

summary: summertime is supposed to be a time of easy living and that’s what you were hoping for when you signed up for an extra credit program cleaning up the shores of Busan and staying in a luxurious beach house. what you didn’t sign up for was to live with Jungkook, a failed talking stage who you’ve avoided for the past few months. despite having a slight disliking toward each other you find yourselves be by pulled back into each other throughout your stay. the only question that remains is if this is just going to be a summer thing or something more.

TWO PART SERIES

➢ genre/au: enemies to lovers/beach read. jungkook x y/n [afab she/her]

➢ 12.6k words

warnings: soft e2l. smüt with plot. beach foreplay. handsy sunscreen scenes. oral [f and m]. händjob. cünnilingus [face sitting] heavy makeout and groping. jealous jk. jealous y/n. jk is a soft tsundere [v antisocial and cold except to y/n —mostly]. love bites. jk almost gets into a fight over y/n. y/n meets jk’s family. future smüt

What started as excitement had turned to complete disgust the second your eyes locked with his but it is at least fair to say that he’s feeling the same.

It was supposed to be a summer at the beach spending your days in a summer house and meeting hot guys, not spending two months with the biggest asshole you’ve ever met. You aren’t even sure how exactly this happened but you do know that you should have prepared for the worst. You were in the same environmental science class, for fuck’s sake. You both knew about this summer job but because you refused to speak to each other you didn’t know you would actually be living together.

“Alright, Professor Choi’s been kind enough to rent out his beach house to you all for the summer,” your student-teacher Jin, started speaking once the charter bus came to a stop in beach suburbia, “I understand you’re all adults but let’s not forget the reason you’re here. This is being sponsored by the University and there is zero tolerance for misbehavior so let me go over some rules.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes as you stared out the window hearing your professor list off rules.

‘No parties—outside guests are allowed but not past capacity.’

‘No illegal substances permitted whatsoever, no destruction of property unless you’re ready to pay for whatever is broken out of pocket.’

‘If you miss a shift, provide a notice at least three hours prior and if you miss too many back to back you’ll pay your own trip back to Seoul and there will automatically be a deduction in your attendance record as part of the credit program.’

“Wow, this is school away from school, how am I supposed to get laid in this quick paced environment?” Jimin joked as he nudged Jungkook’s arm playfully. He barely reacted as he stared out the window waiting for the moment to get out of this hot bus.

“Yes Mr. Park, that’s the point,” Jin said, sending him a glare, “You’re here because you applied to get extra credit, not a vacation for you to get ‘laid’.”

Jimin lifted a hand to his forehead as if saluting the professor and it made Jungkook crack a smile when he rolled his eyes and continued.

“Mr. Kim! Question,” another student, Hoseok, raised a hand, “So if we were to want to… get laid? Can we do that in the house or do we gotta do it on the beach? Or is it absolutely prohibited to de-stress after a hard day’s work picking up trash?”

An eruption of light laughter filled the bus as the student-teacher’s eye twitched in annoyance. Even you managed to laugh a little at that guy’s fair question. The student-teacher only glared at him, “Get off the bus, I’m tired of you all.”

“Wanna room together?” The girl you’ve spent the last four hours on the back of a bus asked as everyone began to line up to get off. You’re actually kind of surprised Sora would want to room with you after how awkward you’ve been. To be fair, you’ve done very little talking since this morning when you arrived at campus waiting for the shuttle bus and spotted no other than Jeon Jungkook, that was enough to ruin your mood. So it took you by surprise that she still wanted to room with you. With that in mind, you gave a subtle nod to her question and she smiled.

You both joined the others outside trying to get your suitcases out but you refused to get closer. Jungkook was one of the ones helping everyone get the luggage out of the compartment on the side of the bus you weren’t going to get close to him—except till he pulled out your suitcase looking around to see who would take it. Your eyes met as you practically snatched it out of his hands without a thank you and turned away.

Jungkook was more annoyed than he let on. He didn’t even look fazed by the fact that you were coming, acting indifferent but inside he was punching the air. He’s had to spend two semesters with you and now he can’t even catch a break over the summer? He gets that this was some extra credit program but why did you have to be here? It’s not that he completely hates you, it's just awkward.

The two of you had a failed talking stage a couple months back because you were both too flakey and immature. Since then it’s just been annoying to see each other. You texted enough to know a good amount about each other and that’s why it’s so weird, nothing ever came out of your talking so now anytime you see each other it’s just a reminder that you’re practically strangers who know too much about each other.

“I’m so happy we’re gonna be living with hot girls this summer,” Jimin whispered once they passed Jin as he unlocked the front door. It was a large white house with light beige accents like the doors, garage, trimming, etc. It also had large glass windows and it was just huge, like a scene out of a movie.

There were eight of you in total and aside from you, Jungkook didn’t know the others that well. He’s met the three other guys a couple times but not enough to be close friends with them. They all attended different lecture times for the same class so it makes sense that he’s not familiar with everyone else and on top of that the ‘supervisor’ here is the student teacher who’ll be staying in the guest house just next door all on his own so he doesn’t even count.

Despite being in college there are still rules in this house—it’s your professor’s beach house after all—and it’s Jin’s job to make sure everything happens smoothly. He’s practically a babysitter who directed you all down the halls of your bedrooms.

Jungkook didn’t mind the rules and the place was big enough that he could find a private spot for himself but he did have to find a roommate and his best luck is Jimin, so it’s best he plays nice.

“I guess,” was all he said in response to Jimin’s statement following everyone else into the house. The place was amazing and everyone clearly thought so, Jungkook now knew what his tuition money was used for at least.

The interior of the house looked like a typical modern style with light color and there were four bedrooms but only three will be used for all eight students. It sounded cramped but the bedrooms were huge and the girl’s room was specifically split into two separate rooms that were connected by a bathroom and large closet they could all share. The boys had two separate bedrooms but much smaller and aside from the two rooms there was an entertainment room too. Overall, the house was amazing and that’s without going into detail about the main level.

Once everyone had split to unpack their bags is when the real conversations started.

“Why are they all so hot?” One of the girls, Mirae, started saying. All four of you were all in the vanity area unpacking your things in the closets.

“My favorite is Jimin,” Sora pointed out as she took out folded clothes from her suitcase, “But I’ll admit Jungkook is really fucking hot.”

“I agree, he’s not usually my type but it’s hard to ignore a guy that looks like that,” The fourth girl, Jia, said with a laugh. Great, you thought, feed the guy’s ego even more.

“What about you, Y/n? Anyone you think is hot?” Sora asked but you only shrugged.

“I haven’t gotten a good look at them.”

You were tired of this conversation and so was Jungkook, who was having an awfully similar one.

“Come on, you’ve got to think at least one of these girls is hot,” Hoseok said as they all gathered in Jungkook and Jimin’s bedroom. It’s the third time they’ve asked Jungkook what he thinks about you and the others but he hasn’t said anything.

He’s not going to tell them the hottest person is you and he’s got two reasons for it. One, he’ll never admit that he’s physically attracted to you ever again, second, if he says it he has no doubt in his mind that the guys will bring it up around you. Yeah it’s awkward and he dislikes you slightly but he’s also not blind. You’re his type and even if he has a distaste toward you that doesn’t change your looks.

“They’re okay,” he said with a simple shrug as he tried paying his attention on unpacking his clothes while the others talked.

“Well Y/n is hot,” the fourth guy, Jisoo, spoke up from his seated position on the floor next to his roommate, Hoseok.

“Yeah, I agree,” Jimin said, adding on to the conversation happening around Jungkook as he focused on what he was doing instead. Hoseok made sure to tell everyone he thought the same and the only one who stayed quiet was Jungkook.

For the first night you and Jungkook were able to avoid each other well enough to not have to speak to each other once. Jin had gone out of his way to buy the first round of groceries for the house and you all went out for dinner. When you came back you went straight to your room knowing tomorrow you would have to start working.

𖠳 ᐝ ꕀ

It was basically a paid school trip for you all. The main reason why you did it was for the extra credit but living on a beach for two months and getting paid for it wasn’t so bad. Your professor had proposed the idea to all of his class hours months ago. It was part of some project to keep oceans clean and he was a part of a few nonprofit organizations that did things like this but this time around you would be paid. You weren’t going to be making a crazy amount of money but enough to support yourselves while here for two months.

He made it a blind raffle sort of thing where everyone who applied for the program got put into a raffle that one of the board members would choose and you still find it bizarre that both you and Jungkook managed to get chosen.

Now you’re both waiting in the living room for Hoseok to come downstairs so the three of you could go to your first shift of the week.

“Okay, I’m here! I couldn’t find my sunglasses,” Hoseok said as he stood at the bottom of the stairs, “Are we walking or driving?”

“Doesn’t matter,” both you and Jungkook said at the same time.

“Let’s driving then, who wants to driv—“

“Me.” Once again you said it at the same time and it was hard to ignore now as you glared at each other.

“Jungkook can drive,” you gave in and said. Despite living on the beach the section you were at was more secluded than where the public usually stayed near the boardwalk. Your professor worked with beach organizers and that’s how you all got the jobs for the summer and today was your first day.

The organizer explained what you would be doing today and it was fairly easy. You would be picking up trash, setting out chairs or umbrellas, making sure no wildlife that appears on shore gets interrupted by beach goers.

You were trying to set the umbrellas up right now since it was early enough that not that many people were here yet and it let you all do morning duties first. Jungkook stood behind watching the way the wind picked up the ends of your hair and smacked it back into your face with a little smug smile. He could tell you were getting flustered but he just finished setting out chairs with Hoseok so he was taking a little break.

“Oh my god,” you groaned in frustration, flipping your hair out of your face for what felt like the billionth time, trying to get this stupid pole to click into place. Behind you, you could hear a little chuckle and immediately you turned to glare at the culprit—or culprits.

“You should’ve worn your hair up,” Hoseok joked as he came to help you but Jungkook stayed behind still laughing a little. You rolled your eyes as you let him take over watching Jungkook come over to help too.

“I don’t have a hair tie,” you told him, “And you guys have watched me struggle and just now decided to help?”

“It was funny,” Jungkook muttered, making you scoff. Of course the first thing he says to you is about how funny it was to watch you struggle. Up close now you had to force yourself to look at his face only but when he’s wearing a blue t-shirt with the sleeves cut off and the beach’s name displayed on the front it was hard to look anywhere but at his tattooed arm. You understand why all the girls are thirsting for him and at one point you did too.

“Funny?” You questioned.

“That’s what I said,” Jungkook told you as he and Hoseok finished what you couldn’t do. You didn’t pull your gaze away from his because that’s what he wanted and you were set on making him look away first. Neither one of you said anything and he knew it was because you were biting your tongue.

“Your face is funny,” you finally said immediately regretting it after how immature it made you sound. He was just annoying you. He didn’t talk to you at all yesterday and today he had the nerve to laugh when you were clearly struggling? There were tons of things you could’ve said instead that wouldn’t make him laugh like he is now.

Jungkook raised a questioning brow as he stood in front of you, having to look down now, “You can do better than that, say what’s on your mind.”

If you really wanted to say what was on your mind you would be here forever. You could start with the fact that he’s arrogant and an asshole. You could say that it’s not fair that he basically put all the blame on you for why you didn’t go out. You could point out that he thinks he’s better than everyone and that he feels like he could do whatever he wants which is so annoying. You could say that the reason you bailed on your first date is because you saw him with another girl the night before. You could tell him that every time he looked at you in class you would get annoyed looking at his stupid pretty face—but you won’t. You won’t say any of that because you have to live with him for two months.

You’re not sure how either of you had become so blissfully unaware of the third party there as Hoseok’s eyes darted between you two like he was watching a game of ping pong. He was just a little confused and so he asked, “Are you two into each other or something? I’m sensing a lot of sexual tension here. Like a little hatefuck moment.”

“What the fuck!” Jungkook nearly choked on his own spit as he took a huge step away from you, “No, we’re not. We just—it’s not what you think. I, Y/n—we, we don’t like each other.”

Hoseok lifted a suspicious brow before letting a smile adorn his face, “Alright I get it. You loathe each other—but you could’ve fooled me.”

“Whatever,” you muttered under your breath, turning away from them so they wouldn’t see the way your face flushed like Jungkook’s.

Jungkook watched you move to sit under the umbrella reaching into your bag for a bottle of sunscreen. You poured some into your palm before running it over the length of your thigh. You wore the tiniest pair of denim shorts he’s ever seen and a blue shirt like his but more fitted. He could see your bikini top straps peeking out from the neckline and he wondered what kind of bathing suit you had on underneath.

Your legs looked so smooth and the way you had them posed in front of you had his eyes following the way your hands caressed them.

He didn't realize how engrossed he was in watching you until a flying object came and hit his shoulder, hard. Jungkook whipped around rubbing at where he was hit, “What the fuck?”

“You look like you needed some,” Hoseok said as he nodded toward where you were, clearly catching Jungkook sort of checking you out. With a smack of his lips in annoyance Jungkook picked the bottle off the sand and looked back to you to make sure you didn’t see that.

You glared at both of them catching Jungkook’s eyes again and lifted a middle finger at him. With a roll of his eyes he flipped you off and turned away, you just annoyed him.

The rest of your shift went without a hitch and you needed a desperate shower after but Hoseok had other ideas. When you got back to the house he proposed a beach day and with the sun beating down on your back you did not turn down getting in the salt water.

“People are disgusting,” you had told Sora when you all headed back down to the beach for a swim, “They will literally litter anything, no wonder our oceans are polluted.”

“So you basically just picked up trash?” She asked as you both shimmied out of your shorts.

“Mostly,” you told her, tugging off your shirt, “It wasn’t bad and there were so many hot guys on the beach.”

“Like Jungkook?” Sora asked, pointing in his direction as he headed down to the shore, already letting his toes sink into the wet sand, feeling the tide rush toward him. You looked at him for a moment seeing him without a shirt and it was clear he’s updated his workout regime since the last time you talked about it months back.

But who cares?

𖠳 ᐝ ꕀ

Jungkook was able to ignore you for the most part. Aside from the first day at work he hasn’t really seen you too much. You both have only worked twice since then and because you’re on a set rotation to make sure everyone works the same amount, you haven’t seen each other that much.

Not that he minds, it’s just something he’s noticed.

He doesn’t pay attention to everything you do but you’ve got a weird relationship, alright? Of course you’ve spent the last couple of months avoiding each other but there’s a very valid reason for that.

The first time the two of you talked, you completely hit it off. You had been assigned to do a project together in the same class as the one where you joined this summer camp for. You met up in the library mostly, but you had this light banter that would go on between you that was clearly flirty, it wasn’t until after presenting your research on the destruction of the Ozone layer that you really started texting.

You were talking all the time and sometimes the conversations would drift a little too far into dating territory and you just realized you were different in some ways. Jungkook likes texting all the time whereas you could go hours without responding. He’s been in about the same amount of relationships as you and you both had been in that hook up only phase. When you did decide to try going on a date the first time he flaked but it wasn’t intentional. He had to work that night and had completely forgotten that when he agreed on a date.

The second time, you both sort of flaked after attempting to reschedule the first one. He’s not sure if you had gotten fed up with trying to find an available time to get drinks but it just wasn’t working out. You both had finally decided on a Saturday but when the day came neither of you said anything. He had been waiting for you to reach out first since he had been blowing up your phone about it the night before. You had been waiting for him to reach out first and confirm the plans since he’s the one who canceled last time. Clearly neither one of you put in the effort to make it happen so it never did.

Then, the final time you attempted to get drinks together was about three weeks later. After the second time you cut back on how much you talked but when you got back to talking like normal and set a date you ended up blowing him off completely. You didn’t even show up so clearly he was bothered by that enough to ask you about it.

You had a tiny argument over it and it just made you both realize that if it was this hard to go one just one date then you clearly weren’t working for each other and that pursuing anything past a friendship wasn’t going to happen. Of course that then made the friendship itself awkward and in the end you avoided each other.

Now he’s stuck in a house with other guys with one who seems to be clearly interested in knowing more about you.

“I’m just saying,” Jisoo said as all four guys sat outside on the deck facing the beach, “Y/n is hot, like mysterious hot since she doesn’t talk to anyone.”

“She talks to Jungkook,” Hoseok pointed out, making Jungkook roll his eyes.

“That’s because we have class together,” Jungkook said, trying not to give out too much information. He doesn’t need any of them asking questions. Besides, it’s only been a week, how do they expect you to be cool with everyone right away? He’s not defending you, he’s just being realistic, plus Hoseok is still going based off what he saw the first day of work.

“Really?” Jisoo asked, “Are you guys friends? I haven’t seen you guys talk? Did you guys date or something? It seems like you hate each other, tell me something about her.”

“Jesus,” Jimin laughed, “Obsessed much?”

Jisoo groaned, “I can’t help it. She’s so hot, have you seen her in those bikinis?”

Jungkook felt his jaw clench but he hid the action behind a glass bottle of beer as he muttered, “You’re not her type.”

“What?” Jisoo asked, clearly catching what he said. Jungkook just looked him over with a shrug, “I said you’re not her type.”

“So what is?”

Me.

… is what he would have said if he was crazy. It’s not like he’s wrong, when the two of you were talking you had tons of conversations about ideal types and how you fit each other’s even though it didn’t work out. Aside from his looks you liked that he had a sense of humor but never pushed it too far. You liked that he was calm but also knew how to get loud and have fun. You liked that he was able to have serious talks with you along with lighthearted ones. You had the same sense of humor, even similar MBTIs, so yeah, he’s still your type even if there are no feelings anymore.

Jisoo? He’s loud, obnoxious, arrogant, and rude—all of the things you can’t stand. Jungkook wouldn’t be surprised if you already had a disliking toward the guy after one week of knowing him, but it’s not like it matters to him.

So, once again he shrugged his shoulders looking off to the beach to avoid giving Jisoo an answer he wouldn’t like. He knows he’s probably getting on the guy’s nerves but he couldn’t care less. He already annoyed him enough by hearing Jisoo talk about your body and looks since the first day so he doesn’t care if the guy knows he doesn’t like him.

Like he said earlier, Jungkook doesn’t care much about you anymore but he does care that Jisoo can so freely say whatever he wants about you and expect Jungkook to help him out with you.

Fed up with Jisoo’s attempt at locker room talk, Jungkook stood abruptly and went through the glass sliding door to the living room. Just then, you and the others came through the front door holding grocery bags. His brows scrunched in curiosity as you all came in holding bags when he thought you were supposed to be having a spa day.

You walked past him to set the bags on the kitchen counter with the others when Jia came up to him with a huge smile. She felt so utterly blessed to be able to walk through the front door and find Jungkook standing there shirtless in just his swimming trunks and his hair half-up in a ponytail. She would like to thank the beach gods for this gorgeous view of a man. It didn’t matter to him that she was checking him out but that’s because his eyes went to you.

“What did you guys bring?” He asked and before you could answer, Jia was doing it for you.

“Oh! Since it’s the first Friday and we have the night free we thought it’d be cool to grill tonight and do a bonfire on the beach, then tomorrow go out drinking,” Jia said, making you scoff.

“If Jungkook doesn’t flake.”

Low blow, you know but since the first day at work he’s just been irking you. He’s just always watching you like he has something to say and you just want him to spit it out.

Jia watched the way he rolled his eyes and it was clear to her that you two weren’t very fond of each other. At least that was one less person in this house she had to worry about liking Jungkook. His tongue poked against his cheek in annoyance as he glared at you unpack the bags, “Don’t worry Jia, I would never make plans with everyone only to blow them off without saying a word. I’m better than that.”

This time you looked up glaring at him because why is he acting oblivious? He knew the reason why. He thought he could play you by going out clubbing with some girl the night before and expect you to still want to go out with him the next night? Yeah, the third failed attempt at a date was a miss because of you but he was obviously the reason why.

You were lucky that Jisoo came through the sliding door right then and there that you didn’t feel the need to respond to Jungkook’s snide remark. He flashed you a warm smile, “I heard we’re grilling tonight.”

Mirae and Sora were outside telling the rest of the boys the plan and when Jisoo saw you in here with Jungkook, of all people, he had to interrupt. It’s the summer and he’s looking for a hot fling so who better than you?

You gave him a girlish smile, “We are, can you teach me how to prep the meat?”

Immediately he went to join your side, “Only because you asked so nicely.”

Jungkook released a scoff in disbelief as he left the kitchen to go back outside, making sure to slide the door a little too hard.

𖠳 ᐝ ꕀ

It’s been two weeks now and Jungkook still can’t stand the sight of you, or no, he can’t stand the pretty sight of you.

Now that everyone’s more comfortable around each other you’ve all become very open and he can tell that just by what you wore to work today. You wore your bikini bottoms that huffed your curves perfectly and a small t-shirt with the beach’s name displayed over where your breasts were. Your hair was all over the place again and he wanted to give you the hair tie he always carried on his wrist now but he couldn’t. Not when you’re standing there flirting with some random guy.

“Taehyung, and you?” He said as he extended a hand out for you to shake.

“Y/n,” you said with a flirty smile. He’s the first guy to approach you at work that was actually hot. He had been in the middle of a volleyball game with his friends when the ball went flying and nearly hit you. It landed by your feet and he was happy to come over and get it.

“So what are you doing here?” He asked, running his fingers through his hair.

“Um, well I’m here for work but just for the summer,” you told him watching him pout just slightly but nodded understandably.

“That’s a shame, we don’t have cute girls like you here,” Taehyung said, obviously flirting and you had absolutely no problem doing it back. You smiled, “I’m sure that’s not true but I’m flattered anyway. What’s your number? Maybe we should hang out sometime?”

You were being forward but who cares? You’re only here for a few more weeks and you want to have fun with someone who doesn’t live in your house. Is that too much to ask? Taehyung was very happy when you asked for his number and he was quick to give it to you.

Jungkook was annoyed because he was working with you again and this time there wasn’t an extra person. Mirae felt sick this morning, most likely dehydrated and couldn’t come to work so it just left you two. It wasn’t so bad since you mostly did your own thing but he’s tired and hungry.

“Y/n! Are you ready to go?” He asked, coming over to where you were and placing a hand on your back, not firm but just to let you know he’s right there. The guy you had been flirting with for the past fifteen minutes looked up at him but he acted like he wasn’t even there. With an annoyed roll of your eyes you said, “I guess.”

“At least I have your number, I’ll see you around?” Taehyung asked giving you a side hug in goodbye and you nodded. Once he was gone back to his friends, you joined Jungkook as he said, “You gave him your number?”

“Yup,” you said as you put your sunglasses back on, “Let’s go home, I’m hungry.”

“Let’s go to the boardwalk,” Jungkook said, “I want Busan street food.”

“Fine,” you said thinking about all the food Jungkook used to tell you about. His family lives in Busan but he’s only gone to see them once. He doesn’t seem to mind it and you wonder why but you’re not gonna ask.

Neither one of you bothered to change into different clothes considering it was the boardwalk and everyone was dressed in bathing suits. The only downside is that you and Jungkook looked like a couple wearing your matching beach uniform attire. This time he wore blue swimming trunks with the beach’s name and no shirt. You wore a similar pair of shorts, just more casual and shorter and you only wore a bikini top since it was hotter than usual today. You could also feel the sun burning at your shoulder and Jungkook noticed it too.

“You need sunscreen,” he muttered under his breath as he dug into the beach bag you all usually bring for work.

“I know but I can’t reach it all,” you told him honestly letting your brows furrow as he took out the bottle and poured some into his hands before rubbing them together. He motioned for you to turn around and you did without much fuss.

It’s not that the two of you like each other now but you’ve given up on being rude simply because the rest of the house is too nosy. They haven’t quit asking about why you two are so snarky toward each other and you’re sure they’ve all come up with conclusions on their own but neither you nor Jungkook are going to tell them the real reason why.

Jungkook placed his hands on your shoulders feeling the warmth of your skin from the way the sun glared down on you all day. You had a tanner complexion than usual and he’s sure he does too. Your skin was smooth and his hands were able to glide down the expanse of your back.

He sort of liked it. His touches were gentle but you hated that the touch of this man in particular made you feel a sort of way. He could rub sunscreen on your back all day but that would be weird so instead he cleared his throat and pulled away saying, “Can you get mine too?”

Jungkook did not like you. Whatever romantic feelings he had for you once died off over time but…

But right now your hands felt so good massaging his muscles with sunscreen. He resisted the urge to let his head fall back in bliss as you did the same to him before the two of you went to the boardwalk. Jungkook got on his phone shortly after some time walking and with a small sigh he said, “I’ve gotta go home, my mom has a bunch of fruit she wants me to pick up. Do you want me to walk you home or do you still want food?”

You thought about it for a second, “It’s fine, I’ll just get something to eat and then go home.”

He released a small huff, “Want to come with? It’ll be quick, after we can get food. It’s a walking distance from here and it'll be quick.”

“I didn’t bring a shirt.”

“You can wear mine,” Jungkook said, rummaging through the bag that was hanging off the shoulder and tossing it to you.

“What about you?” You asked even as you slipped the shirt over your head. Jungkook just shrugged, not really caring either way as he texted away on his phone, most likely to his family.

Honestly, you just didn’t want to go back to the house. It’s fun living with so many people because you're never bored but you also just needed some time away. You loved being able to go to work and just listen to music while you did work. Plus, if you went home without eating out you would be grumpy having to make yourself something after being out in the sun.

Also, at the end of the day you’re still most comfortable with Jungkook despite getting close to Sora and the others.

So the two of you were in front of Jungkook’s home looking as ridiculous as ever with him being shirtless and you wearing the large t-shirt and small shorts.

Jungkook didn’t knock or anything, just checked if the door was unlocked and immediately yelled for his mom. You stood back awkwardly, as Jungkook walked around the house motioning you to join him outside where he found his family eating watermelon outside.

“Kook!” They cheered when they saw him and you could feel their eyes drift toward you. He pointed a thumb in your direction as he casually said, “This is Y/n, my housemate,” hugging his parents.

“Y/n?” His older brother, JungHyun, repeated your name looking between you and Jungkook with narrowed eyes before smiling knowingly and said, “I’m JungHyun.”

You ended up just having dinner at Jungkook’s parent’s house and left with baskets of watermelon to enjoy on sunny days.

𖠳 ᐝ ꕀ

The day was perfect.

Jungkook felt at ease for the most part. The only ones who had to work today were you, Jimin, and Mirae so he was just hanging out around the house.

He spent a good amount of the morning on the back deck working out as he stared at the beach. He took a morning jog and came back to lift weights but aside from that he didn’t have much to do. Usually he’ll hang out with Jimin or Hoseok but one was at work and the other was taking a midday nap. The others wouldn’t even be off work till later so he really had nothing to do. He wandered around the house trying to think of something but nothing came.

“Hey Kook,” Jia said, suddenly appearing on the deck. He had given up on a workout and lounged on the pool chairs instead. He glanced up at her, nodding his head in greeting.

“Do you mind driving me to the store? Jisoo said he’s busy and Hobi is sleeping,” Jia asked and as much as Jungkook wanted to say no, he had no reason to. With a small huff he rose to his feet looking across the beach toward the boardwalk as if he could see you working from the house—he’s tried but he can’t.

He doesn’t care, honestly, but he’s just nosy? He wants to know what you’re doing or if that guy from the beach came by to see you again.

Jungkook went inside to put on a shirt and grab the keys while Jia waited downstairs for him. He stood by the window where he had a perfect view of three familiar people walking down the shore in familiar blue shirts and his eyes landed on you. He found himself stalling now, taking his time getting dressed, doing his hair up in that half low ponytail look, reapplying deodorant, spraying some cologne. He doesn’t know why he’s getting so dressed up for the store until you catch him upstairs on your way to your room.

You looked him up and down as he stood in the narrow entryway to the next floor, “You and Jia going somewhere?”

He was a step down the stairs already as he turned to you, “The store. Do you need anything?”

“Um… maybe,” you said as you listened to the call of his name from downstairs. You didn’t know why you even said that but suddenly you have a list of things to get. He brushed his bangs back, “Want to come? We’ll wait in the car?”

You just nodded leaving to your room to get your things. Jungkook and Jia went to the car and he watched her hop into the front seat as he went to the driver’s side. He tapped on the wheel nervously as he listened to Jia tell him about all the things he needed. He would have preferred if you sat up with him but it’s not like he could’ve directed her to the back. It’s becoming very clear that your frutal attempts to stay away from each other have failed as now he finds himself wanting to be closer again.

When you came out and got in the backseat you barely talked. The silence was filled with low music playing and Jia occasionally saying suggestive things to him.

“I heard you’re a pretty decent cook, Jungkook. Any chance you’ll make me something one of these days?” Jia asked but Jungkook just shrugged glancing at the rear view mirror to see your focus solely out the window. Couldn’t you attempt a conversation with him too? Did you really hate him that much still?

Slightly annoyed at the thought he found himself saying, “Sure, whatever you like.”

You were slightly annoyed but you blamed it on the summer heat and that you were a little tired from work. You tried not to think about the fact that you only came along because you wanted to see what Jia and Jungkook would do. You never realized how close they were until Jia was putting her arm on Jungkook’s giggling at whatever he said even if it wasn’t even funny… and he just let her.

At one point you even rolled her eyes at her third whiny, ‘Jungkook’ and went off to do your own thing.

It didn’t take long for Jungkook to notice your shift in mood and at first he didn’t get it. It wasn’t until Jia grabbed him by the hand to go down a different aisle that he saw the way your eyes locked on the action. Were you annoyed with him right now?

Or were you annoyed with the way he and Jia were acting right now?

He found himself wanting to test it out. He interlocked his fingers with Jia’s as he walked with her making sure to be extra attentive. You didn’t know why you felt the need to even come and think that it would make a difference. You felt most comfortable with Jungkook but clearly he didn’t feel the same and that annoyed the shit out of you. Why bother inviting you if he was just going to ignore you the whole time?

You thought you were finally getting over that tension between you two but if this was how it was going to be then you’ll be the same. That’s why you grabbed a box of condoms at the checkout line and set them down on the belt in a completely different row than them.

“So what’d you get?” Jia asked you once you were all in the car again and this time you willingly sat on the back. “Condoms.”

You missed the way she turned to Jungkook with twinkly eyes as if hoping he would look back at her and share some sort of inside joke about it but he didn’t. His eyes were dead set on the road, fists clenching around the steering wheel, face stone cold.

“Oh,” Jia laughed softly, “I didn’t know you were interested in someone like that. Who?”

“I don’t know yet, I’ve got a few options,” you muttered, arms crossed over your chest, shutting yourself off from them and looking out the window again. You were being petty but you didn’t even care. If those two were going to have fun and flirt in the house why shouldn’t you do the same?

The entire ride back to the house was filled with a silence louder than the music. Jungkook kept thinking about the guy at the beach. Were these for you and Taehyung? Did he actually come by and see you again when Jungkook wasn’t there? Why was that thought driving him absolutely insane right now? So you have absolutely no problem meeting up with some random guy but when it came to planning to ever go out with him you flaked? Did he do something? Were you just never serious about him?

He released a small scoff, lost in his own thoughts as he parked the car in the driveway. The three of you got out all your things and headed inside where everyone was.

You’re not sure if Jia lacked maturity or if she felt somewhat threatened by you but the second you all made it inside she loudly exclaimed, “Y/n bought condoms so she’s probably gonna get more action than the rest of us.”

Immediately there was a cluster of awe’s from Jimin and Hoseok who have failed to get laid these last couple weeks and you still had a month to go here. Not bothering to even act like you cared what she said you went up to your bedroom unaware that Jungkook stormed up to his clearly ticked off.

“Does Y/n have more game than us?” Hobi said as they all followed Jimin into his shared bedroom with Jungkook, “I wanna get laid too. Life is so unfair for a man.”

Jungkook was in their bathroom pretending to do something as Jisoo had the nerve to sit on his bed and say, “At least now I know I have a chance with Y/n. She must be a little desperate if she bought condoms. A guy usually does that when he knows he’s gonna find someone to fuck.”

The room fell silent as Jisoo laughed, clearly not reading the sudden awkwardness in the room at what he said. He continued on, “You know… Y/n’s always showing off her body for attention. I bet that’s why she came anyway.”

Jimin shook his head, “I don’t think that’s ri—“

“What did you say?” Jungkook asked so suddenly that it was like everyone forgot he was even there. Jisoo looked up at the others as if seeing if they’d agree with him before saying, “You know… Y/n’s hot, she knows it. I wouldn’t be surprised if she came on this trip for a good fuck. She’s pretty much asking for it. I mean why else buy co—“

Jungkook was in front of him in a heartbeat, towering over him with a dark gaze, “Talk about Y/n like that one more time.”

“I dare you.”

Jisoo’s smile vanished and a sense of anger replaced it. Feeling defensive now he rose to his feet so that Jungkook wouldn’t think he intimidated him even if he sort of did.

“Jungkook. Jisoo, just chill for a minute, the girls are gonna hear an—“

“I don’t give a shit who hears,” Jisoo says with a scoff, “If I want to say that I plan on sleeping with Y/n then I’m gonna say it. If Jungkook is bothered by the fact that she doesn’t want him, that's not my fault—Ah.”

Jungkook’s fists tightened over the collar of Jisoo’s shirt pulling him closer and twisting the fabric tighter. Jisoo’s hands immediately flew to Jungkook’s forearms trying to get him to let go. He might talk his shit but if there was one thing he knew it was that he was not getting into a fight with a man who did boxing as a hobby and could lift more than his body weight.

Everyone knew Jungkook was serious just by the look in his eye and in hopes of easing the tension Jimin said, “Jungkook come on, let go. He’s just running his mouth, don’t let it get to you. It’s not worth fighting.”

“Oh but I think he’s asking for it,” Jungkook said jostling Jisoo enough to make him sway as he looked him dead in the eye, “Aren’t you?”

“Let me go, man.”

“No, I want to hear you try and run your mouth about Y/n again,” Jungkook said, testing him now but Jisoo only shook his head. Jisoo looked around hoping to see if they would get him to lay off when he stared at the door.

“Y/n.”

Jungkook let go almost immediately, turning his head to the door and catching you standing there. You must’ve left your room and heard the commotion.

“Y/n, I don’t know what you heard but this guy’s cra—“

“Jisoo. Shut the fuck up and don’t talk to me,” you said looking absolutely disgusted in him, “You’re worse than the trash we pick up off the shore—and just so you know you’re the last guy I would ever fuck.”

He scoffed, “Bitch.”

Jungkook stormed over to where Jisoo was standing in front of you trying to make his leave. Your hand stuck out, palm flat against the ridges of his abs as you looked up at him, “Stop. He’s not worth it.”

“Y/n,” Jungkook said softly now, not caring at all about the other two who stayed in the room awkwardly, “He’s got no right talking about you like that and I don’t know how much you heard but I have a right to beat his ass.”

“I have a right to beat his ass,” you said in the same soft tone he used. He looked down at the hand that was still on his stomach and before he knew it his hand was down on your waist.

“Y/n none of us agree with what he said at all,” Hoseok said but your attention was on Jungkook who still had his jaw clenched thinking about Jisoo and how much he would really enjoy putting his hands on the guy.

“Let’s go for a walk,” you offered and before he knew it he was nodding his head following you downstairs ignoring the others as they looked in confusion as to why Jisoo stormed out the front door and what the yelling was all about. Jia watched as Jungkook’s hand’s never left your waist as he followed you outside to the deck and down to the sandy beach.

“You defended me.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Jungkook asked as you both took your shoes off and let them at the end of the backyard to walk toes in the sand.

“I thought you still hated me.”

“You think that means I’m gonna let some guy say shit about you? Did you forget we talked about some serious things back then and how hurt you used to be?” Jungkook asked, “Besides I never hated you.”

You winced at his reminder. Back then you would have serious talks about past relationships and how you were both treated awful in them. He always told you that he had no respect for guys who would tear their girlfriends down and that if he could he would fight every single one of them for you. Clearly he hasn’t gone back on his word.

The sun had already set and what had started as a day quickly changed because of Jisoo. Jungkook was tired out but he didn’t want to go inside yet. He wanted to enjoy the empty beach with you and try and talk.

“Want to sit?” He asked, pointing to the shore. It was low tide and you could get close enough to the water without worrying about getting soaked. You nodded your head going to sit as he dropped to the sand next to you.

“Y/n.”

“Yeah?”

“Why’d you ditch me that night? I was waiting for you for an hour and you never showed and when we argued about it… you wouldn’t tell me why,” Jungkook finally said.

You took a deep breath deciding to be honest, “I saw you with a girl the night before and I guess I got kind of jealous and thought you were playing me since you flaked the first time.”

Jungkook looked visibly taken back, “I—the only girl I talked to other than you was my coworker. I went out with her because it was all of us but I just ended up taking her home because she was drunk. There was never anything between us.”

“Oh. I’m sorry,” you said awkwardly but he just shook his head. The sand was cool underneath you two and the water was a pretty shade of light blue and foamy white.

“It’s my fault, the first time I mean. I did flake so I get why you thought that so I’m sorry too.”

“Ugh,” you groaned as you fell back to lay down in the sand. Jungkook used his hands for support to sit but he looked down at you, “What?”

“Just annoyed. We could’ve avoided all this if I just asked you about it,” you told him making him laugh softly. He lied down next to you, “Maybe but I think I like you more after hearing what you told Jisoo and that wouldn’t have happened if we made up sooner.”

You laughed with him, “He’s so gross.” Jungkook nodded in agreement as the two of you looked up at the darkening sky.

“But I liked that you stuck up for me so thank you,” you said, making him smile.

It was quiet for a moment, “So why’d you buy the condoms?”

You groaned in embarrassment as you tried cov ring your face but he was on his side looking at you, “Because you were only paying attention to Jia after I thought we were beginning to be friends again and I don’t know… it was stupid.”

“You were jealous?” He asked if you actually were because every time he sees you with another guy he gets jealous. A little smile came to his face and you hit his arm lightly, “Don’t laugh at me.”

“I’m not, I’m just surprised. You know how many guys are into you? I’ve been jealous this entire trip and I don’t know, I’m just surprised to know you were too,” Jungkook admitted and you looked over at him too.

Neither one of you said anything for a moment and you just spent time outside deep into the night.

You looked at Jungkook, he looked at you, and you’re not sure if this was an unspoken agreement or if it was just a long time coming but before you knew it you were both leaning in for a kiss.

You captured his lips with yours making him let out a small groan as he kissed back fiercely. It was careful at first still seeing if this was something you both wanted before Jungkook began to turn his upper body enough to hover over you. His tongue found yours and explored the inside of your mouth, swiping along yours and letting them glide against each other creating a pool of drool. Your hand was on the side of his face, fingers digging into his hair as a hand of his reached over to hold you down against the sand by your waist. Jungkook felt his blood rushing, as every part of him felt on fire. You pulled away first, tugging his lips between your teeth before kissing him even harder than the first time. He let his tongue go even deeper into your mouth causing you to moan softly, breathing getting heavier as a light breeze coursed through the two of you noting that it was night time on the beach.

It was when a seagull went over your heads did the two of you realize how exposed you were. Raccoons had a tendency to be on shore once the sun had set looking for burrows of baby sea turtles and neither one of you wanted to be out when they came scurrying past. The lights in the house were off for the most part due to how late it was and the two of you were finally able to see how long you had been out.

“You’re so pretty,” he mumbled against your lips before pulling away enough to look at you. His hands were gently around your face wiping away the blown over sand from your features and brushing your hair back, “I didn’t want to be here at first because it was still awkward.”

He placed a tender kiss against your lips, “But if I wasn’t then… you know, we’d probably still be mad at each other.”

You reached forward to pin his bangs behind his ears, his ponytail loose and almost out but he just looked so handsome like this.

“The beach is so empty,” you commented as your hand trailed down the tight space between your bodies. Jungkook looked around, it was dark out and stars scattered across the night sky. You were utterly alone out here just making out like you hadn’t been put off by each other for the last few months.

You glide your hand down his chest, feeling the faint outline of his hard abs through the black shirt he's wearing with the sleeves cut off. He looked down at your hand, breath hitting when your hand reached the waistband of his trunks. You bite your lip as he leans down and starts kissing and sucking on your neck again.

You let your hand trail lower over his swimming trunks, softly tracing the outline of his length that was slowly hardening in your touch. It didn’t take long for you to notice he wasn’t wearing anything underneath. You let out a light gasp as he kissed along the curve of your jaw toward the end of your ear sucking just below it, body already shifting against you for more friction. He let out a low rumble through his chest when your hand palmed his erection, eyes already hazy as he dug his face into your neck.

"Dangerous territory," He mutters lowly, pressing his body down onto yours, kidding you deeply as your hand goes back down to his crotch, “We’re gonna get caught.”

It hasn’t left either one of your mind’s that you’re still outside laying against each other as the warm sand tickled your back and the waves of the sea acted as background noise. You trace the hard outline of his dick through the thin material.

"Fuck," He moans into your mouth, pulling back to catch his breath as he looks down at your hand. You slowly stroke up and down his length as you grab it through the material.

He raised his hips up just enough for you to be able to sink your hand inside his trunks and he bit his lip in anticipation. If you didn’t care that you were outside then neither would he, if anything it’s just arousing him even more.

You slowly and teasingly stroke up and down, palming him at a slow pace as he lets out a groan, “Y/n.”

You smile, “Jungkook.”

“Do you really want to do this?” He asked and for a second you weren’t sure if he meant what you were doing right now or what you were doing with each other in general. Instead you grip him by the base, moving your hand up to run your thumb over his mushroom tip. You spread his precum around with the pad of your thumb, “You don’t want to?”

"Fuck..." He whispers, pressing his forehead against yours, “I do. So fucking bad.”

You reconnect your lips with his, pumping his cock moving your hand up and down in tight then loose strokes. Your bodies were still so pressed against each other that if someone watched you from a distance then it would just look like a heavy makeout and not like your hand was jerking him off under his trunks. You start to move your hand quicker up and down his length, watching him as he presses his face into your neck and starts sucking and kissing the skin beneath your ear as you pulled his trunks down enough to slip only his hard length out for better access.

You speed up your hand even further, twisting and flicking your wrist as you feel him throb and twitch, hips bucking into your hand chasing that feeling that was getting closer, embarrassingly so. With a small tsk sound you release him making his body freeze before bringing your hand up. He looked down at it and his eyes stayed on yours as he spit right into it, you doing the same before running your palm against his tip then down his length.

He lets out a groan as he twitches, your quick strokes bringing him closer and closer to release. If anyone were to ask him if he knew you, of all people, would be giving him a wet handjob on the beach he’d laugh in their face.

"God, I'm gonna cum......" He moans out, placing both hands on the sand to hold himself up enough to not completely crush you with his waist as he fucked into your hand. You smirk and look up at him making him fuck your fist faster. With a small push-up then back down he crashes his lips against yours, growling into your mouth as he cums. Your hand immediately gets drowned in his release and the bottom of your shirt does too but you just smile into the kiss as his breathing gets heavier and more uneven.

“You know, I’ve never been to the movie room,” he whispered softly to you and you looked toward the house. He was still pressed against you but you had tucked him back in once he reeled back in.

The movie room was one of the only other rooms aside from your bedrooms and it was pretty much untouched. That meant that it was good for privacy and right now he felt like he needed privacy—with you. He wants to take you on a date and try it again but right now he wants to feel you even more.

“Me neither,” you said with furrowed brows as you tried to understand why he randomly brought it up. He didn’t answer you right away, tugging on your bottom lip lightly between his teeth, “Let’s go see it.”

You gave a brief nod of your head and he was helping you to your feet reaching behind you to dust off the sand for your denim shorts. He took your hand in his and led you back to the house being as quiet as possible. You still weren’t fully sure what you were doing but it didn’t seem to stop either one of you from making it into the movie room. Jungkook checked the hallways to see if they were empty before locking the two of you in.

Before you knew it the two of you were laying on the dozens of floor pillows and cushions on the floor making out with a movie playing in the background. This time you were on top. You were laying over him with one leg raised high against his waist with his hand on your butt, fingers pinching just slightly. Your other leg was between his and it was getting hard to ignore the growing length against your thigh. Jungkook reached for that same leg pulling it over so you could straddle him properly as you pulled back for a breath. His hands slid down to your eyes, bottom lip between his lips, hips softly grinding against yours as you reached for the hem of your shirt. He leaned up enough to yank the back of his shirt and with your help he threw it somewhere with yours.

It was very clear that it was your turn to be pleased by the way Jungkook so easily pulled you up onto all fours over him as he undid the button of your little denim shorts and yanked them down. You took it from there and shimmied them off fully before his hands gripped your hips tightly once more and you couldn’t silence the squeal you let out as he tugged you forward nearly dropping you over him, “Ju—Jungkook, what are you doing?”

“Wan’ you to sit on my face, like now Y/n,” he said in a serious tone. You shook your head, “No, I—do you really want me to?”

“Y/n…” he looked you dead in the eye as you sat on his chest with his hands flat on your thighs to make sure you didn’t move back. Your knees were over your shoulders and you just needed one pull to do what he asked and it was just all so tempting when he could smell your arousal.

“You just took my dick in your hand and made me cum out on the beach and you’re asking me if I want you to sit in my face?” Jungkook asked looking amused but also not, “I want you to ride my face, got it?”

You licked your lips at the thought and before you knew it Jungkook was already pushing you that small space forward until your heat was hovering over his face but not yet pressing into him. You sighed letting yourself relax and brush your fingers through his hair as he looked up dazed and waiting for your consent.

“You gonna show me how good you are with your tongue?” You asked, making his eyes roll just slightly.

“God yes,” he said with a sigh as he finally pulled you down the rest of the way, feeling your hand tighten in his hair. Your underwear was still in the way but it didn’t stop him from pressing his mouth to the soaked fabric of your underwear and his nose lightly tapped against your hooded clit already making you squirm. He gripped your thighs firmly now to keep you in place and just let him mouth at your covered cunt, licking at the fabric for just a hint of a teasing taste.

You tried not to put too much weight on him but he practically forced you down, face right against your soaked panties rubbing gently. You squirmed, “Jungkook.”

“Hm?” He hummed against you, hair brushed out of his face by your fingers, sparkly doe eyes looking at you from between your legs. You couldn’t see it but you knew he was smirking and it didn’t take long for Jungkook to slide his hands up from your thighs to your hips. Before you knew it he was gripping one side of your underwear and yanking in it hard enough to tear. He even jostled you a bit and then he did the other side too until it slipped off and he threw them somewhere far.

Jungkook looked up at your wet pussy, a line of slick dripping onto his tongue as he let his mouth open expectantly. As it touched the tip of it he did one swift lick between your folds to catch whatever else might drip. Immediately you gasped as he did it again, not wasting a moment to tease any longer. He’s so turned on he can’t even register the thought of taking his time.

“Careful,” You started to speak again, trying to remind him to take it easy since the others were sleeping and the television wasn’t that loud. It was pointless as he gave you another long lick followed by another. You bent forward, bracing yourself with one hand again in his hair pulling just slightly making him groan into your cunt as he tightened his grip on your thighs. Jungkook’s tongue worked upwards, shifting from long licks to short flicks against your clit. You couldn’t stop the rocking of your hips, biting your lip to keep yourself from moaning loudly and letting everyone know what the two of you were doing.

“Fuck,” you whispered softly, bucking your hips forward as his hands slid to your butt, gripping hard enough to grind your pussy down on his face as he ate you out.

You released a low groan and this time Jungkook lifted you off despite your protests. He glared up at you, “You want everyone to know how I’m eating your pussy out?”

“Ugh,” you rolled your eyes, hips still moving just slightly praying he’d just continue, “Slow down then.”

Jungkook gave you a cocky smile, his hold already growing firm as he sent you a wink before pulling you over his face once again licking at your pussy.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck," you murmured, nearly under your breath as his head moved frantically to follow the way you fucked into his face, tongue stiff as he flicked along your cunt sloppily.

You slapped a hand over your mouth, the knot in your stomach tightening, body convulsing with pleasure as he took in the sight of it. The way your torso moved with each buck of your hips, and your breasts. The tilt of your neck as you looked up trying not to look at him and the tight hold you had in his hair.

Without warning, you reached your climax all over Jungkook’s tongue. He eased your orgasm, licking softly before moving you off of him. As he did so his hands came down to your waist sliding you down with ease. He held you down to lay on top of him and without question your lips were on his again.

“So good,” he whispered against you, ready to take his trunks off once more, “I need you.”

“Mmh,” you said between kisses still not registering what he said until he was rolling you over under him so he could take them off. He kissed down your neck, “Condom?”

You nodded ready to reach out for one before your body froze. Jungkook, who still kissed and sucked on your neck blissfully, wasn’t paying attention. You tapped on his head to get him to look at you but he kept going, surely leaving live bites.

“I don’t have any.”

He stopped but didn’t pull away, “What?”

You sighed, “They’re in my room.”

He sighed as he pulled up but kept his body pressed against yours, “You’re lying.”

The situation made you laugh. Out of all times this could be happening to you. The first time you’re even attempting to get physical and after everything you've done tonight but you’re responsible.

He let his head fall onto your chest with a small groan. You sighed, “Sorry.”

Jungkook left a soft kiss on the mound of your breast, “Don’t be. Not like you knew this would happen, right?”

He definitely didn’t. Jungkook did not for one second even think about the possibility of kissing you this summer and definitely not as far as the two of you have gone tonight.

“Ugh,” you groaned as he hugged you, “If I go in and Sora wakes up, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“It’s okay,” he said, finally moving off you as he made himself comfortable next to you, still only in his trunks.

“Where’s my shirt?” You asked sitting up but he just pulled you back down grabbing one of the large throw blankets laying around and tossing it over you.

“Let’s just sleep right here,” he mumbled looking over to the door making sure he did lock it. He grabbed his shirt off the floor for you to put on and once you did, he let you cuddle into his side. He tried ignoring the sexual frustration that built up from not having sex with you but neither one of you were doing it without protection especially so soon.

“Everyone’s gonna think something is up,” you whispered as he let you use his bicep as a pillow.

He just shrugged.

“Who cares?”

𖠳 ᐝ

Jungkook was zoned out all morning the next day. No one’s said anything about the fact that the two of them didn’t return to their bedrooms last night but it’s very clear everyone has their suspicions just from the way they’ve been looking at you two. Of course they probably think the two of you made use of those condoms but they are gravely mistaken—almost but not yet. Soon though, he’s already made that promise to you both. When you get back to Seoul he’s gonna take you out and then everything will just fall into place, hopefully.

“What’s with the pigtails?” Jisoo — of all people — had the nerve to ask Jungkook.

“Why are you talking to me?” Jungkook asked, glaring at him as you fixed the end of one as the hair in the pony curled just under his pierced ear. Jisoo looked at you as if you’d stick up for him and that only annoyed Jungkook even more.

Jisoo seems to have forgotten that just yesterday he almost got into a fight with you both — even if it made you and Jungkook make up — it didn’t mean you liked the guy.

“Y/n,” Jisoo said, making Jungkook roll his eyes, “Can we talk?”

“No,” Jungkook said but you just placed a hand on his shoulder and handed him a mirror.

“I guess,” you said before looking at Jungkook, “Look at how good your hair looks. I’ll be right back.”

“Come get me if he tries anything,” Jungkook said as he held up the mirror checking himself out. The end of his growing mullet was in low pigtails but he still had wavy bangs curled around his ears and over his forehead. He looked ridiculous using his tattoo covered hands to clear his bangs out of his eyes.

“What?” You asked Jisoo, already sounding annoyed as he dragged you outside to the deck. You sat at the wooden table by the grill and waited for him to speak.

“I just wanted to apologize for yesterday,” Jisoo said honestly, “I was out of line and honestly if I knew you were with Jungkook I wouldn’t have said anything but I just don’t get why you two were hiding it.”

You laughed, like actually laughed, and it confused him even more. You stopped for a moment to look at him, “So you’re apologizing not because of what you said but because you didn’t realize I was with Jungkook? Which I wasn’t, let me just say.”

“No, that's not what I meant, I just… well you know, you weren’t giving anyone the time of day and I showed you I was interested. I guess I just wanted to annoy Jungkook because he seemed so territorial over you but I didn’t expect you to hear,” Jisoo said, scratching the back of his head nervously.

“Are you stupid?” You asked, “This isn’t an apology to me at all, and honestly if you can’t just apologize for the way you spoke about me then why even bother? You’re making excuses saying that I wouldn’t give you the time of day? Damn, Jisoo, I wonder why!”

Jungkook didn’t even hide the way he was glaring out the sliding glass doors. He can’t even hear what you’re saying and that just annoys him more. He’s just waiting for Jisoo to do something so that he has an excuse to go out there. If he tries anything then he picked the wrong day for that.

Jungkook is sexually frustrated, homesick, and annoyed with him still over last night.

“Oh my god! Jungkook! Your hair is so cute!” Jia and Mirae said when they made it through the door carrying takeout. Jungkook looked over at them seemingly unimpressed, “Thanks.”

You and Jisoo made it back inside after you made it incredibly clear that you don’t like that guy just in time to see Jia reach for the end of Jungkook’s pigtail.

“You look so cute, I’m not used to this cute side of yours. Did you do your hair like this?” Jia asked as Jungkook looked at you and Jisoo walk in.

“No, I did,” you muttered and Jungkook reached for Jia’s hand to push it away before coming over to where you were.

“Oh,” she said as he followed you up the stairs without a single glance back at them, “Well it’s really cute.”

“Take them out,” you said just as the two of you made it to the top floor. His brows furrowed in confusion, “What?”

You huffed as you began pulling his pigtails out, “I don’t want them looking at you like that.”

He laughed, “You feeling jealous already? We just made up yesterday.”

“So? Do you want me to go tell Jisoo he looks cute?”

“I’m taking them out,” he said, helping you, “The only person you can call cute is me.”

“Well don’t let other people touch your hair then—“ You cut yourself off as your eyes drifted to one of the bedroom doors.

Jimin and Hoseok didn’t even bother to act like they didn’t see the whole thing. Jimin smirked as he looked at you two then at Hoseok. He just laughed, “Looks like someone did get laid, and it sure as hell wasn’t me.”

“Ugh!” Jungkook groaned, “We didn’t—“

“Yeah sure bud,” Jimin said as the two walked past you and Jungkook, “Not what we heard last night.”

Your jaw dropped realizing that you might’ve been louder than expected. Jungkook just glared at them, “Want me to kill you?”

“How morbid!” Hobi gasped dramatically, “You’d think getting laid by the girl he’s been obsessing over would loosen the guy up.”

“We didn’t!” Jungkook yelled ready to trail after them but you just hugged him by the waist laughing.

“Let them think we did, who cares?”

::.

whew okay this was a fave and don’t worry bc in part two? 🤭🤭oh yeah the fuck. and it’s gonna be city vibe relationship next so y’all better tune in.

personal taglist: @notmyfaultbutours @rerefundslocals @fandems @sugaluvmyg @guvgguk @kimyishin @libra04 @kooromiwrld @classycreationcupcake-blog @alwaysdreamingnotsleeping @cherrymonlightt @nikkiordonez12 @asking4-sanity @thvlover @saweetspoiled @uwu2rawr @shaybts-blog @babycandy111 @tearyjjeon @joons-uparupa @jeonninja @yellowcupid08 @02010802faves @knudsenheggedel @skzthinker @unnatae @aurorthi @beautywine @95ene @taekookstata @lilliankoo @shescharlie @annenakamura @lesoleile

summer bummer, baby taglist: @jjkreblog @wobblewonble822 @aloverga @lilyflowerguk @ssaltytears @lovelykookiee @hazzzelsdimension @minayas1998 @v-taeunofficial @angryblizzardtale @sunwooful @livjknj @4yjwonnn @screamertannie @jkoma @uarmyhore @eversincejimin n @withluvjm @exquisitely-tasteless @miracle2023 @ktownshizzle @generalchopshopgoatee @jksnumber1fan @sharkipoonis @laffatae @annabtsangels

[florencemtrash]

The Artificer: Part I - Azriel x Reader

Warnings: None

✨Based on this ask ✨

Masterlist of Masterlists

"Azriel flipped through the information in his mind like a picture book: She specializes in crafting fae-bonded weapons using autoimmune magic. Brilliant, capable, and loyal - only a fool would underestimate her."

The air burned with unknown magic, mingled with the heady smell of smoke and metal and something else… something sweet and clean. Azriel couldn’t put his finger on it as he followed behind his brothers, weaving through the packed, but homey workshop. 

Bookshelves filled with carefully attended tomes on woodworking, metallurgy, glassblowing, and more lined one of the walls, some faint traces of magic keeping them safe from the dust and soot that tended to accumulate in the corners. 

The other wall was decorated with an assortment of keys - brass, gold, silver, steel, even glass twinkled in the faelight, like a hundred pairs of eyes winking. When Cassian reached for one, the metal began to glow and spark, spitting out thin bursts of magic that smarted until the Illyrian had the sense to pull away.  

When Helion first offered your weapon-smithing services to Rhys, he had sung your praises so loudly that Nyx had awoken from his nap, whining incessantly for his father to rock him back to sleep.

Originally born to noble parents in the Dawn Court. She moved to Day thirty years before Amarantha’s rule to escape an ill-suited marriage and has been quietly designing weapons for Helion ever since. She specializes in crafting fae-bonded weapons using autoimmune magic. Brilliant, capable, and loyal - only a fool would underestimate her.

Azriel flipped through the information in his mind like a picture book, cycling through the lines Helion had spoken and his own independent research. He could recite your birthday, the names of your parents, your grandparents, your older brother who’d been killed in the war against Hybern, and the day you graduated university. He even knew the planned date of your wedding to some pompous Lordling from Summer. 

What he didn’t know was what you looked like, and he wasn’t sure what to expect. 

Perhaps he’d expected someone more refined and regal - you were of noble blood after all… but then they rounded the corner and your soot-stained face popped out from beneath the workbench, purple lens goggles magnifying your eyes to vibrant proportions. 

You flipped the goggles up, resting them on your head like a crown.

Azriel blinked. 

Strands of hair curled around your fire-blown eyes, framed by soft skin that had been spared the worst of the soot by your goggles. You looked like you had stepped out of a flame - strong and resilient as steel.

You were absolutely breathtaking.

���Oh shit.” You quietly cursed, bouncing to your feet. 

You chucked the gloves to the side, hastily wiping away at your cheeks before dipping into a perfect curtsy. You were an actress caught in the spotlights after an ill-timed curtain opening, and you needed to make up for the poor first impression. You hastily slapped on the costume of the High Born Lady, feeling every etiquette lesson your mother had hammered into you slide over your limbs until you were a puppet on strings. 

“My apologies, my Lords. I lost track of time.” The words rolled out automatically, perfectly timed and perfectly pleasant, “Forgive me.”

Azriel frowned. He didn’t like the change that had just taken place. 

You held one hand artfully over your chest, the other flowing out to the side as you remained frozen in your bow. His eyes traced over the curve of your neck, catching on the sliver of skin that peeked out from beneath your work shirt, then down the slope of your sturdy shoulders and arms - strong and limber after decades of hammering away at glass and steel. 

The High Lord of the Night Court waved off the comment, a charming smile brightening his face as he hoisted you out of your curtsy. If he cared about getting soot on his fine clothes, he didn’t show it.

“There’s no need for any apologies. It’s a pleasure to meet you Y/n. Helion’s told me much about you.”  

You blushed, subtly brushing back the hair that stuck to your forehead and wishing you’d taken the time to clean yourself up… maybe wash your face properly and change into cleaner clothes.

“My brothers-” The High Lord swung his arm out in a slash of Night Court velvet, “Cassian and Azriel.” 

You had to keep yourself from sighing. They were all terribly attractive. It almost wasn’t fair.

“The pleasure is all mine, High Lord,” You curtsied again, “And Lords.” You appended gracefully.

The High Lord was as sensual and charismatic as everyone said with his twinkling violet eyes and perfect smirk - the kind of smirk that announced to the world that he was very aware of the effect he had on males and females alike. 

Your eyes flickered down to the tailored velvet suit. It clung to his body impeccably, carving out his broad shoulders and trim waist. How he wasn’t stifling in the heat was beyond you. The furnace roared a little louder, as if to push the point. 

The Lord of Bloodshed - Cassian as he was called - possessed a wilder beauty. He was all hard-cut lines and cords of muscle with a faint brush of stubble along his jaw that suited him well. 

But the Shadowsinger. He was the one you had trouble dragging your eyes away from. There was something heartbreakingly solemn about him, like a hero plucked out of a fairytale bound to end in tragedy. The same boyish joy that touched his brothers seemed to have skipped over him, and you couldn’t help but wonder why. In fact he seemed… displeased, and your heart began to beat a little faster.

“Call me Rhys.” The High Lord winked, drawing your attention away from the dark and silent Shadowsinger, “Any friend of Helion’s is a friend of mine, and I like my friends to call me Rhys. It keeps me humble.” 

Cassian snorted, “Sure it does.” 

He shoved past his brother, settling into a comically wide stance. You tried to disguise your surprise and confusion when he leaned down further to be eye level with you. His eyes twinkled with mischief, as if he’d caught onto the slip in your perfectly tailored costume and he wanted to rip it off and burn it to the ground.

“The name’s Cassian,” He held out his hand for you to shake, “Or Cass,” He tilted his head to the side, deep in thought, “Or Bastard brute, as my wife so lovingly calls me.” 

You snorted, then froze in horror, one hand flying up to slap over your mouth. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-” 

Cassian tipped his head back and roared with laughter. It was the kind of sound powerful enough to fill a tavern and made you feel as giddy as three glasses of wine.

Azriel tamped down the jealousy that flared to life in his chest upon seeing that Cassian was the first to make you laugh. Not that he would have been able to make you laugh as easily as breathing… but he could dream. 

Your eyes were blown wide, confusion racking your body as every etiquette lesson crumbled into a pile of dust. Your mother had warned you of what to do with males that were too forward, too cold, too dramatic, too charming. But Cassian was a different breed entirely - he was too casual, too friendly and normal. It took you aback.

Rhys rolled his eyes. Leave it to Cassian to make a High Born Lady crack as easily as fresh ice on the Sidra. 

Cassian tapped his chest, looking quite satisfied with himself, “There’s no need for bowing or Court pleasantries. Rhysand’s the only one of us with any real house training anyhow. Prissy little Lordling.” 

“Hey.”

“You know it’s true, Rhys. You’re wearing fucking velvet.” 

Rhys snorted, “Don’t attack me because I have some sense of style.”

You swiveled between the two of them, uncertain of how to continue. “Well I-” You stammered, taking a step back and straightening your shoulders. 

Your mother’s words rang through your mind: Don’t slouch. 

“Apologies, for my… manners.” You finished lamely. 

“Good manners are wasted on Cassian,” Azriel said. Gods, even his voice was tragically beautiful, like the sound of rain drumming against a window, or the crisp call of wind when Autumn sighs its last breath and gives way to Winter. “And Rhysand too, actually.” He added, ignoring the sounds of protest from Rhys and Cassian. 

His heartbeat picked up when your eyes fell on him completely.

“Are they wasted on you?” If they were going to act so… uncouth, perhaps that gave you a pass, “Or did I suffer through endless hours preparing for my debutante ball for nothing?” 

Azriel tilted his head. He tried to imagine you as a debutante, paraded around to various suitors in a puffy dress like the gods-awful one Feyre had been shoved into for her first wedding, and it left a sour taste in his mouth. But when he tried imagining you in Night Court attire - something blue - he couldn’t help but find that he quite liked the scene he’d conjured up for himself. He smiled - a faint and quiet smile that made your heart go still.

Cassian and Rhys gaped when their brother quietly closed the distance between you two and bowed. He was the picture of grace - deadly, beautiful grace.

Azriel took your hand in his, reveling in the feeling of your calloused fingertips against his scarred palm, and gently brushed his lips against your skin. 

“No.” He murmured, casting his eyes up at you. You melted, falling into the molten sea of his hazel eyes, and it wasn’t because of the heat, “Good manners are not wasted on me.” He finished, straightening up and taking a step back.  

He didn’t look disappointed anymore. If anything he looked… amused and… at ease. 

You tried to imagine him smiling - a true smile full of teeth and unburdened joy - and found you quite liked the image you’d crafted for yourself.

You tilted your head to the side, trying to disguise just how much he’d affected you. One kiss and a look and you were a goner. How silly of you. 

“That was quite good. I’ll give you that.” 

Azriel tipped his head in a subtle bow, “Thank you, My Lady.” 

You scoffed. No one had called you by any proper title in centuries. 

“Shall we begin with you, High Lord?” You asked him first out of propriety, missing the faint frown on Azriel’s face. 

He knew he shouldn’t take anything personally. This was a business meeting first and foremost, but that didn’t stop the flicker of jealousy from budding in his stomach whenever you laughed at Rhysand’s teasing or whenever he leaned just a little too close to look at the sketches you drew. The only moment of satisfaction he felt was when you slapped Rhysand’s hand away from the wall, choosing to pull the samples from the chestnut shelves yourself before taking notes on the styles he preferred. 

Are you ok? Rhysand asked, raising his eyebrows. It was Cassian’s turn now and The Lord of Bloodshed sat beside you, carefully watching your hand drawn sketches come to life.

I’m fine.

You don’t look fine, brother. Rhys said with a smirk, You look like you want to murder Cass. 

Azriel wiped the faintest hints of emotion from his face, turning away from Rhys to look around the workroom. 

Everything was warm and coated in soft orange light from the raging forge. It felt like the moment before the sun sinks into the horizon, when the world is as syrupy and comforting as caramel. Chestnut bookshelves lined the wall, filled with as many trinkets, plates of armour, and weapons as books. A long workbench ran the length of the room, neat stacks of paper punctuated by gleaming blades of obsidian, moonstone, and steel. It was where you currently sat, outlined by the fire like some angel sent down from the heavens.

Azriel’s eyes stuck on one blade in particular, carefully laid out on a bolt of midnight blue velvet. Its bronze handle gave away to gold threaded steel sharp enough to cut light and shadow. The sheets had been folded over and hammered so many times that thin rivers of radiance twisted and turned down the blade, mirroring the runes that had been painstakingly etched along its spine.

“Lord Azriel?” His head snapped to the side, following your lyrical voice. You’d soundlessly made your way around the table without him noticing and now stood at his side, “Do you like anything you see?” 

Azriel froze. From this close up he could see the faintest gold flecks in your eyes, as though a forge was burning there too, some piece of you always hammering away at an anvil… but maybe that was just the hammering of his heart.

Cassian coughed. Loudly. Rhysand smirked, elbowing his brother, but Cassian was successful. Whatever spell had come over the Shadowsinger broke and color dusted his cheeks.

“It’s just Azriel - or Az. Either works.” He was technically a Lord… emphasis on technically. “Could you tell me about this one?” He pointed to the brilliant blade, hating the sight of his ruined hand so close to it. 

You picked it up with ease, spinning it around your body with a strong grace that made Azriel’s breath catch. You weren’t the most skilled swordsman by any means, but you knew enough. After all, if you were going to spend your life making swords you’d be damned if you couldn’t wield one properly.

“This one,” You said with a smile full of pride, “Is Sunseeker.” The blade began to glow, content to once again be in the hands of its master, “It took me decades to figure out how to bind weapons to one master, but once I did - well - I thought if anyone should have that kind of weapon first it should be me.” 

To your surprise, a faint smile graced Azriel’s lips. It was such a minor display, but it brightened the air around him. Even his shadows began to emerge, wrapping around his arms and inching towards you like a moth to a flame.

Sunseeker truly was a work of art, beautiful and deadly in equal measure. 

Cass whistled low, coming closer to admire it. “How does weapon binding work?” He asked curiously. 

Your eyes lit up mischievously, “Would you like me to demonstrate?” 

Cassian had just enough time to say “yes” and stretch out his hands before you handed him the blade and he dropped like a stone. 

“CAULDRON FUCK ME!” 

Rhysand sputtered, doubling over in laughter. Azriel snorted, a hand flying up to cover his mouth in surprise. They watched Cassian fall to his knees on the floor, grasping the handle of the blade that felt two thousand pounds heavier in his hands. 

You looked rather pleased with yourself. 

Cassian growled, bracing his feet on the floor and pulling up so hard Azriel could see the veins pop out of his neck. “Fucking hell.” He said through gritted teeth.

“Come on, Cass. Get up.” Rhysand teased, shoving his brother with the toe of his boot.

Cassian kicked him in the knee, but from his position the blow didn’t land properly, “I would if I could, you son of a b-”

“Don’t talk about my mother like that.”

“Fuck you.” 

“Just. Get. Up.” 

“I. Can’t. You piece of shit. I can’t let go of this gods-damned sword.” 

Azriel shifted closer to you, heavily amused as Rhys leaned down and grabbed hold of the hilt. His signature charming smile slid off his face.

“What the fuck-” He pulled once. Twice. Tried to pry his fingers off the hilt, but he couldn’t let go no matter how hard he tried. It was as though he’d been glued to a boulder.

Cassian smirked, “I told you.” 

You smiled up at the Shadowsinger as the pair continued to bicker, stretching up on your toes to whisper in his ear, “Hardly anyone knows about what I do so I have my fun when I can.” 

He fought not to shiver, feeling your breath curl around him as intimately as his shadows. Azriel chuckled - a low rumble in his chest that reverberated through your bones. 

“And how many have fallen victim to your tricks?” He asked. His voice was as smooth as butter and honey to your ears. “Just three. Your brothers and Helion.” 

“Helion?”

You nodded.

“I would have paid good money to see that.”

You grinned, leaning closer to him. Without a second thought, Azriel leaned in as well, as if he were a light-starved flower and you were the sun.

“Sunseeker is bound to me - tied to my magical signature and my blood. To me, she’s as light as a feather. To anyone else, she may as well be a mountain.” 

“And why can’t they let go?” 

“It’s another trick. If anyone tries to go for my weapon, they’ll be brought down to the ground and I’ll have enough time to kill them first.” You cleared your throat, “Not that I’m a naturally violent person but… well it doesn’t hurt to be smart about it.” 

“I would agree with you.” Az smiled once again, “Incredible.” He whispered, looking you in the eye, “You’re incredible.” 

You shifted on your feet, clasping your hands behind your back and looking away so he wouldn’t see how much his praise affected you.

“If you two are done flirting with one another, can you please help us?” Cassian grumbled. Rhys and Cass had both given up, opting to sit cross legged on the floor like a pair of scolded children.

You hurried over, muttering sheepish apologies. You’d overstepped and you knew it but… well they just seemed so casual with one another and with you that you’d forgotten they were highly powerful fae first, and your clients second.

The spell broke the moment you touched the sword, Cass and Rhys groaning in relief and jumping to their feet. You polished off the sword and placed it back on the table. 

“Ta da.” You wiggled your fingers. Cass huffed and Rhys cleaned off his clothes with a sweep of his hand. 

Az leaned down and spoke in your ear, hazel eyes glowing, “I think it’s my turn now.” 

You shivered, feeling both small and powerful under the weight of his gaze. Azriel decided to forgo the chair, choosing instead to kneel beside you. One arm rested on the back of your seat, hovering dangerously close to your shoulder blades as you repeated the same questions you’d asked Cassian and Rhys.

You jotted down notes diligently and Azriel took the time to admire your neat and simple handwriting. Your hand stilled over the paper as a tendril of darkness curled around your fingers. Azriel sat so close that your head swam with his scent. He smelled like winter mountains after rainfall - crisp and clean like a breath of fresh air. His shadows had similarly begun to wrap around you like an Autumn breeze, slipping through your hair and around your neck like they wanted to feel the pulse of your beating heart. 

Azriel swore under his breath, pulling them back as quickly as he could, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-” 

“I like them.” You said quietly, registering the shock in Azriel’s hazel eyes. You quickly went back to your sketch, “They remind me of home.” 

As a final step you took their measurements - the length of their arm, shoulder width, the distance between their hips and knees. Measuring Cassian and Rhysand went without incident, although they did poke fun when you pulled out a stepladder.

“It’s not my fault you’re all so ridiculously tall,” You grumbled, stretching out the tape across Azriel’s shoulders, “Did your mother fuck a tree?” 

The Illyrian snorted, “I wish.” He flinched once the words left his mouth, his smile twisting into a grimace.

“Hmmm?” You hummed curiously. Azriel felt your breath brush against the nape of his neck and shivered. 

“A tree might have treated her better than my…” Azriel trailed off. 

You’d been too young to attend Court when you still lived with your parents in Dawn. But even so, whispers of the Night Court were always followed by discussions of Amarantha’s whore and the Illyrian bastards.

His wings drooped and from the corner of your eye you saw Cassian’s gaze fall to the ground. Even Rhys bristled, the charisma sliding off his skin and replaced by something colder.

He loved his brothers more than himself, and the lack of a blood connection had never minimized the fact that they were his family - his legitimate family. He liked you, but one wrong word about his brothers and he would take his business elsewhere, no matter how talented you might be.

Azriel dared to glance at you, wondering if some part of you believed in the truth - that they were bastards unworthy of attention and respect in the eyes of true high fae nobles, or anyone for that matter. Even in your mussed up clothes you were radiant, carrying yourself with a confidence and grace that came from birth as much as it came from upbringing. 

You were royalty… and Azriel suddenly didn’t seem worthy of your attention, even though he was craving it right now.

Your lips tightened into a flat line, anger flaring up in your deep eyes, but you swallowed that anger and channeled the energy into making the brothers laugh once again, “Well I’ll go down on a limb and tell you trees are fantastic lovers.” You said, followed by a cheeky wink. 

Cassian turned to look at you, absolutely dumbfounded. Rhys was similarly shocked, violet eyes twinkling and mouth twisting into a smile. But it was Azriel who broke the silence first, tipping his head back and laughing so hard that his shoulders shook from the effort. The sound rang through the workshop, like the sound of rain falling. Cassian and Rhysand joined soon after, clutching their stomachs and leaning against chairs and tables for support. 

You bowed dramatically, arms sweeping to the sides like a tropical bird, “Thank you, thank you. I’ll be here all evening.” 

And Azriel took that very seriously. After the sketches were finalized and the blood samples were collected to be bound to metal, Azriel hung close to you, quietly begging Rhys with his eyes to stay longer. They wouldn’t be back for another six months after this. 

Rhysand raised his eyebrow knowingly at Cassian and The Lord of Bloodshed smirked. 

“Y/n,” Rhys said, voice dripping with persuasion, “Are you hungry? Perhaps you’d like to join my family for dinner?” 

You blushed at the invitation, “That is very kind of you, but I think I’ll stay here and work on these further.” You shook the papers in your hand, “I don’t want to forget anything.”

“At least let us bring you food then,” Cassian jumped in quickly, “Az! Why don’t you keep our favorite artificer company until we come back.”

Azriel blanched, stiffening up like a board. He could admire you in the company of his brothers when you were distracted, but he would be hopeless if left alone. “Cass, I don’t think-”

“Oh, I don’t want to take up-” You stammered.

“What a wonderful idea,” Rhys clapped Cassian on the back, all but shoving him back the way they’d originally came, “We’ll be back soon!” 

The door hissed closed behind them and you blushed, daring to glance over at the Shadowsinger. At least he also looked flustered. You could find comfort and hope in that. 

“I guess it’s just us now.” You murmured. 

His eyes softened, taking in your figure, “I guess so.” 

You spent hours talking with him that night, both of you leaning over the tables as you discussed your work and what your life in Dawn had been like. Your parents’ marriage had been arranged in haste after a drunken one-sight stand resulted in your brother’s conception. There was little love to begin with, but after his still-birth, whatever affection had existed between them vanished into thin air. You’d been born seventy-three years later - a true born noble in name only. Your parents never hated you, although sometimes you wished they did. Their indifference was a unique pain that you’d never been able to shake off.

But Azriel… Azriel was anything but indifferent. He hung onto every word like it was liquid gold dripping from your lips, and you did the same. Clutching what he said like pearls and committing them to memory. 

You couldn’t hide your disappointment when Cassian and Rhys finally reappeared four hours later. “Oh.” You whispered, pulling your hands away from where they brushed against his on the table. 

“Apologies, it took so long.” Rhys grinned. 

He didn’t look sorry at all. In fact, he looked very pleased to see you and Az pressed together, sharing the same seat despite the empty chairs scattered about the room.

Azriel was less pleased and Rhys didn’t miss the faint frown on his brother’s lips as you begrudgingly reclaimed a seat of your own, nestled between Azriel and Cassian. He also didn’t miss when one of Azriel’s shadows curled around the leg of your chair and tugged you closer to him. 

You listened to the brothers talk. Rhys and Cassian carried the weight of the conversation, as they usually did, bickering over lunch leftovers and proudly discussing the progress their mates were making with their respective projects - Feyre with her art studio and Nesta with her Valkyries. Azriel’s shadows shrank away, a glint in his eye dimming when the subject came up. 

You stole a glance, watching him carefully. When he caught you staring you smiled and some of that glimmer came back. 

“Can I see you again?” Azriel asked quietly once you’d finished eating. Rhys had already cleaned up the food scraps with a snap of his fingers and now lingered by the door, speaking with Cassian.

You looked puzzled, “Won’t you be here when the swords are ready? It shouldn’t take longer than six months. Maybe less. And I can still make adjustments then, if you don’t find it to your liking.”

Azriel shook his head, smiling softly, “No I meant before that.” He glanced at his brothers - his lovingly overbearing, nosy, matchmaking brothers, “Just us again.” 

Your heart skipped a beat, tempo quickening after the momentary stillness. “Oh.” You breathed, “I would like that. I would like that very much.” 

“Good.” Azriel took your hands in his, feeling the rough calluses of your palm against his scarred skin. He pressed a kiss to both hands, then looked at you, “Until next time then.” 

Azriel could never regret meeting you that day, nor could he completely regret seeing you the next week… and the week after that… and the week after that. He burrowed underground with you, sought after the warmth of your home and of your heart like a moth to a flame, daring to brush closer and closer with every beat of his wings. 

But it had been a mistake to visit you so often, and so brazenly. Here, in the safety of your workshop, he forgot there were fires that were not so nurturing and lovely. And he forgot that there were others who sought your power and not just your company.

Next Chapter ->

[yujification]

undo — ning yizhuo

desc: you briefly think of what it was like when you first started dating yizhuo— when her hair was a deep wine red and her gaze made you lose your mind. that was years ago now, and you’d gotten accustomed to her various ways of staring you down— and you could identify the way she looked when she wanted to kiss you, and the way she looked when she wanted to to fuck you. the difference was minuscule, but discernible enough. this morning? it was the latter.

cw: idol!ning, nonidol!reader, g!p, blowjobs, throatfucking, degrading, praise, unnie kink if you squint, pwp

wc: 1.3k

-

dating an idol was hard. it was a job not for the weak, only multifaceted person like you could handle it. people intruding on your privacy, death threats from psychopathic fans. stalkers, at the worst. but it came with one downside that came above all. being away from yizhuo, constantly. she spent all of her days off with you, coming over the minute the clock struck midnight and burying her thick cock into your cunt, whispering desperate apologies into your ear while she pounded you into the mattress.

you were certain that the neighbors had become rather well acquainted with yizhuo. you weren’t sure if they were disgusted or jealous; they had given you that look every time you left your apartment and crossed paths. were you a whore, or someone to be envied? you’d never know.

yizhuo was still asleep, her nude body nearly blending into your dark cream sheets, only a little stained with saliva and sweat and semen from your late night rendezvous. you think of cleaning it, but she’s dead asleep now, and she never gets much rest to begin with— that’s to be expected with her line of work— she’s cute when she sleeps, anyway. she’s in her element and you’d rather not disrupt that.

truthfully, you miss yizhuo most days. in more aspects than one. you miss her body heat, and her voice when she whispers in your ear while you’re half asleep. you miss her cooking, and her backhugs while you’re doing housework that just barely make you feel the outline of her dick again your ass, and above all, you miss her taste— of her lips and her cock. roughly once a week, when she can’t answer your calls, your fingers snake into your mouth, about three, trying to mimic the way ning fucks your throat, but it never feels quite right, and you can never get off. your fingers are too small, and your nails uncomfortably scrape along your tongue and it feels less than pleasant. she sends you pictures whenever you ask (and when you don’t ask), to which you send videos back, but you’re always unsure if they’re satisfactory or not. this was never what you wanted. you wanted yizhuo all the time, not just once or twice every few weeks.

whenever you finally get close to each other, it’s almost humiliating, for the both of you. you get embarrassingly wet at yizhuo’s whiny begging. i love you, i missed you, please suck my dick, and yizhuo’s loyalty is never in doubt. her balls are always swollen when you see her, pent up energy finally being let out when she finally blows her load anywhere you’ll let her— your pussy, your mouth, your stomach, your face. you’re certain she isn’t sleeping with anyone else. she doesn’t have the time, and even if she did, she can’t get off without you, evidently.

when yizhuo stirs, you’re laying in bed, wool blankets sprawled over your body, now clothed with only panties and a loose tee, comfortable, but revealing enough to get yizhuo going if need be. she sits up, propping her cranium on her hand and wetting her lips while you scroll through your phone. you don’t notice that she’s watching at first. her voice startles you, though it’s gentle per usual.

“morning,” she whispers, voice still a little groggy. in a sexy way, of course. she’s always sexy, even when she isn’t trying.

you briefly think of what it was like when you first started dating yizhuo— when her hair was a deep wine red and her gaze made you lose your mind. that was years ago now, and you’d gotten accustomed to her various ways of staring you down— and you could identify the way she looked when she wanted to kiss you, and the way she looked when she wanted to to fuck you. the difference was minuscule, but discernible enough. this morning? it was the latter.

you look over at her, dark hair falling over her shoulders and face. “did you sleep well?” you ask, brushing loose tresses behind her ears.

“better than i have in a while,” yizhuo grins, and it’s infectious. “thank you.”

“for what?”

“for a lot of things.”

it’s a little cheesier than you would have expected from her, but it brings a smile tugging at your lips anyway.

-

you spend the day wandering the city. outside of work, you don’t take much time to explore, let alone with ning. you’re both busy frequently, so going on dates isn’t too frequent of an occurrence. the request she made to go to a kitchen supply store was an odd one, but your apartment needed a touch up anyway, and getting new plates and silverware had been on your bucket list for a while.

most of the trip involved you trying to find plates that fit your needs, big and thick, when you realize you might have a type. you tell yizhuo and she laughs. she thinks you’re funny, even when you’re really not. she precariously flirts and runs her hands along the small of your back when you stand still for too long, a constant (and sweet) reminder that she’s still there. you’re so used to being alone. you need it.

naturally, she gets calls all day. she knows how aggravating it is for you, so she silences her phone on the drive home. it stays that way as you stumble into the apartment, tossing your shoes off at the door while yizhuo’s cock throbs in her pants. it didn’t take much effort to get you on your knees— the carpet hurt your knees but you got used to the burn and disregarded it once ning’s voice drowned out every other sound or sensation present in the flat. the obnoxious hum of the aircon suddenly didn’t bother you so much anymore.

her fingers curl around your wrist, tugging it up and having you gently feel the ever-growing tent in her jeans.

“feel this?” she smiles down at you, hands tenderly running through your hair. “feel how hard you make me? it’s all for you, unnie,”

yizhuo rubs your knuckles with her thumb while you work at her belt, pulling it from it’s loops and pulling her fly down, and she groans a little, as if the pressure from her body is slowly being lifted. her jeans fall to her knees and all that’s left is her boxers, white with a visible dark, wet spot stemming from where her tip should be.

discarding her boxers, her dick springs free, dark and girthy, white liquid seeping from her hole. well trimmed, pretty as always. you kiss her tip, pre-come smearing across your upper lip. you lick it off.

she throws her head back slightly as your lips wrap around her cockhead. her taste is clean and fresh. your tongue envelopes the underside of her length, a soaking wet and warm sensation overflowing yizhuo’s cock. it stretches the corners of your mouth, your mouth filled with flesh and skin and wetness.

“fuck,” yizhuo curses, fingers massaging the back of your head, deep in your hair. “such a good girl, taking me so well.”

yizhuo pulls out of your mouth, cock slick with spit. it glistens in the light. “want more?”

you don’t hesitate to nod. maybe it’s a little greedy— oh well. she understands how important this is to you. her cock sinks into your mouth again, roughly 3/4 of the way in before she pulls out again, leaving a string of saliva between your lips and her dick, drooping slightly under it’s own weight. “feels so good, unnie,” yizhuo coos, burying her cock deep in your throat with a gentle smile. she knows it hurts, but the pleasure overtakes the pain regardless. tears tug at your waterline, and she pulls out, alas, giving you time to breathe. she taps her cock on your lips, wet mascara smeared under your eyes. “i’m close,” she whines, sinking her dick down your throat once more and consequently fucking your mouth. your tongue flexes around her length, mouth full.

when she finally comes, it’s in long intervals, thick liquid coating the insides of your mouth and throat and dribbling out from between your lips. “swallow,” she orders. “all of it.”

wouldn’t want to ruin the carpet too, huh?

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Follow You Anywhere 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, controlling behavoiour, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You're online existence threatens to leak into your real life.

Characters: Captain Syverson

Note: I couldn't help myself.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

"So... this is what it looks like today?" You aim your camera at the sky outside your window, "sorry, the screen is kinda in the way."

You let out a nervous chuckle and flip the camera to yourself. You make a silly face. You were never overly fond of your image on the screen but the vlogs help. Like a little diary, mostly for yourself. You and your seven followers on Insta.

You bat your lashes and fix the clip in your hair, "oh, I got this free. Yeah, I bought a new hair oil and they threw this in the bag." You let your thoughts run wild from your tongue. You found a journal too daunting, the blank lines leaving you just as empty. This is easier. "Anyway, I shouldn't have spent the money to begin with."

You give another splintered laugh. The one you let out when you're anxious, or scared, or happy, or even mad.  You bite your lip and catch yourself in your digitized reflection. You stop and turn your camera to your bedroom.

"Today, I'm gonna clean this mess. Me and you guys together."

You scour the room with the lens. Your laundry is piled on the floor and you have a stack of books you need to put on the shelf. It isn't the worst it's been but it's getting cluttered.

"But first, we'll have breakfast, can't start the stream on an empty stomach," you chirp and nearly drop the phone, "oops, uh..." You fix your grip and check the number in the corner. You have one viewer; on a good day, it's three, most days, it's just you talking to the void.

You go into the kitchen, just down the short hall from your bedroom, opening into your living room. You go to the counter and prop up the phone so the camera is on you again. You tap your fingers and hum.

"What should we have for breakfast?" You ask. You don't feel as crazy talking to yourself even if there's really no one watching. "Oo, French toast. Gotta use up the eggs."

You go to the fridge and pull out the eggs and the milk. You bring them back to the counter, shuffling around for a bowl, a whisk, and the cinnamon.

You mix up your ingredients and dip the bread, one piece at a time. You put on a skillet and fry up the slices, presenting a stack of three to the camera. You smile and dust some icing sugar over the top.

“Probably shouldn't have all this sugar for breakfast,” you shrug at the camera, “alright, quick break…” 

You put the stream onto the ‘back soon’ page and take your plate to the small foldout table against the wall. You're not a fan of eating on camera. You finish and rinse up before snatching your phone up again.

You return to your bedroom and put the phone on a middle shelf and flip the stream back to live. Still that one viewer…

“Anyway, I'm back,” you wave at the lens.

You hesitate, looking around as you stand straight and spin. Cleaning, right. Before you can set to work, the phone dings.

A message?

You go back to your phone and squint at the chat bubble floating up.

‘Looked delicious too.’

“It was,” you agree with a grin, “thanks.”

‘Don't mean the toast.’

The next message has you blinking. Your nape burns. They can't mean… you clear your throat and giggle.

“Well, let's get started,” you back up and clap your hands, “you know, I've been so carried away with work. This place is a pigsty.”

You sit on the floor and sort through the clothes. You toss them into the basket as you sit in silence. You stop yourself and glance at the phone.

“How about some tunes?” 

You walk on your knees to your bedside and turn on your bluetooth speaker. You go to your phone and find a playlist before pulling the stream back to full screen. As you do, you hear a noise you've never heard before.

‘BourbonBear has tipped.’ Huh? Really?

“Oh, thanks, er, BourbonBear,” you giggle around the name, “how nice. Maybe one day I can afford a proper camera for this, huh?”

You smile and go back to the dirty clothes. You quickly ball up a pair of panties and shove them in the basket. You carry on until they're all untangled.

You move on and tidy your desk, bending underneath to gather up a few loose pens. You make your way around the bedroom, putting away books, fixing the blankets on the bed, and straightening the little figurines on the shelf above the bed.

You grab the stick vacuum and suck up the dirt and proclaim your task done. It took a lot longer than you thought. It's after eleven. The one viewer is still there.

“Whew, okay, I'm gonna get myself washed up and go to the park. Maybe I'll post that later,” you give a thumbs up next to your head as you talk to the phone, “thank you.”

You end the stream and let out a sigh. Your videos aren't much and you doubt they're very interesting but it's like venting for you. Almost like having an invisible friend. You think you will take some pictures of the flowers to share.

🧸

You take your usual path through the park. The walks help you unwind your worries. You try to come after work at least a couple days during the week and both days on the weekend. You find the mindlessness of the routine to be calming.

The deeper you get into the wooded length of the path, you slow to admire the birds in the branches and the critters crawling in the brush. You take out your phone and snap a few photos of a blue jay before it wings away shyly. You smile and flip the cam, smiling as you take a goofy selfie. You can add that to your post.

The path winds ahead and you follow it in the din, listening to the river just down the incline to your left and the tweeting from the sky. You lift your face and inhale the woodsy scent. The sudden crack of a twig startles you and you spin to face the noise. There's no one there. Sometimes you forget other people are free to just walk on through.

You chuckle at yourself and continue on. The path leads out to a suburban street where you like to look at the houses. They're much more spacious and pretty than your grimy brick apartment building.

You come out from the shade of the trees and wander along the avenue. There's a mailbox painted to look like the house it stands before and a little nook for second hand children's books to be borrowed through the neighbourhood. Sometimes you picture yourself living in one of those houses though you don't think it could ever truly be.

As you crane your head, you sense a shadow in your peripheral. You're walking a bit slow. You sidle to the side to get out of the way of the other pedestrian. When no one passes, you look back. No one.

You must be imagining things. You shrug and plod along. You're already thinking of what kind of tea you'll have when you get in.

🧸

You sit down with your mug of ginger citrus tea and set to editing your post. You add a light filter to the photos as you shuffle through them on your laptop. The process is slow as the computer is nearly five years old now and chuffing on its 4GB drive. You get to the selfie you snapped, a stop.

You lean in to get a better glimpse of the background. It's fuzzy but there's a figure just over your shoulder. How could that be? You looked and there was no one there. That's so strange.

You stare as a chill courses through you. You're thankful you hadn't put your earphones in. You wouldn't have heard whoever it was and they may have even snuck up on you. Or maybe it's just a trick of the light.

You hit ‘post’ and try to shake off the foreboding. It's nothing. You're being silly. Besides, you're home and safe now. Next time, you'll be more alert.

A message pops up. You stare at the dot over the chat bubble. You tap with your thumb and bring up the DMs.

'Stream tonight?' BourbonBear asks.

You tilt your head. You already did some today. You're tired and want to lie down and enjoy your time off. You type back 'sorry, not tonight. tomorrow <3' and another notification vibrates. A comment on your latest post.

'Pretty sweater', also from BourbonBear. You heart their comment and leave a thanks below.

You flip back to the selfie. You can't really see your sweater in the picture, just the scalloped knitting of the collar. Well, you suppose it does look cute. You put your phone down and leave it on your desk. That's enough Insta for today.

🧸

You time your shopping trip for the least busy hour. It's early and the store is almost empty except for employees stacking bread on shelves or wandering listlessly around the deli. You have your phone in the basket of the cart, aimed at you as you roll it along slowly and check your list.

The stream is just as empty. It's only just started but you don't expect too many people to be up at this hour. You stop and grab a loaf of sourdough, checking the date before showing it to the lens and putting it in the cart. You smile and announce the next item.

"Strawberries... you know I was thinking I might get raspberries instead," you say, catching the eye of one of the yawning employees. You must seem like a weirdo. It's why you typically don't film in public.

As you roll around to the fruit, you notice the count change. One viewer. You choose a basket of raspberries and show those. You see a message float up; morning.

You smile and return the greeting softly and place the berries down carefully beside your phone. You need yogurt to go with the berries.

You work down the list, making some substitutes as you tick off each item. You linger in the ice cream section a bit too long and talk yourself out of a gallon of rocky road. You lean on the handle of the cart and smile down at the lens.

"Going to check out," you say, "see you all later."

All? There's still just the one. You end the stream and take your phone out of the basket.

You wheel around to checkout and line up at the only open till. You put your items up as you greet the cashier with a smile. She seems tired as she gives a dull response.

As you put the yogurt on the belt, you sense someone join the queue behind you. You glance over as a large man stands only feet away. He's tall and burly and staring at you. Maybe he heard you talking to your audience, or he would think, yourself. You continue to unload your groceries.

"Never tried those," he comments as you take out a box of strawberry Pocky.

You pause and hold them up, chuckling nervously, as you do.

"Pretty good," you answer, "I eat way too many."

You notice the man doesn't have a basket or a cart. That realisation needles under your skin. Maybe he's just getting lotto or smokes?

"You like sweet stuff."

"Too much," you squeak even though it doesn't sound like a question.

He just stares, not saying a word. You swallow tightly and pull the last few items out of the cart and get behind it to wheel it through the lane. As you do, he looms closely, adding to the sweat gathering on your lower back.

You roll along and wait for the cashier to ring through the rest of your things. She bags them up neatly in two large paper bags. You pay with your card and thank her as you lift the first into your cart. The man behind you moves forward and grabs the second, startling you.

"Got it," he says as he places it with the other, squeezing by you, crowding you.

"Oh, excuse me, sir," you stammer, "oh," you lean on the cart to roll it to the end of the lane as you make space between you and the stranger. "Thanks, er, uh... thanks."

You turn and grab the handle, jittering. He's really weirding you out. Especially as you realise he's walked right by the cashier. He's following you.

"I can help get ‘em in your car," he offers in a drawl.

"Oh, that's alright, I... bus," you cringe as you realise you've said too much.

"I could drive you. I have a truck."

"No thank you," you walk faster, the cart rattling with your pace.

"Why not?"

"I don't know you, erm, sorry--"

"You don't?" He catches up and shoves his phone in your face, your Insta profile glaring back at you, "I paid for the milk, maybe the berries..."

"What?" You stop, just by the door and turn to him. "I don't--"

"You haven't eaten, have you? I'll take you for French toast. That's your favourite."

"Um," you blink at him as your eyes tinge, "I don't..."

"You got me through a hard campaign, just wanna say thank you," he adjusts his cap and you notice the pin on it. He's a veteran. Oh, 'campaign'. 

“Just got back home," he shifts on his feet, a meek gesture for such a large man, "and... your videos helped me remember it. Helped me hold onto it in the sh-- in the stuff."

"I... wow, okay, that's... I'm glad I could do that."

"I really don't mind giving you a ride. Lots of weirdos on the bus," he insists.

"That's nice but--"

"Please," he softens his tone, "been a while since I sat down and had breakfast without worrying about the sky falling."

You shudder and grip the cart tight. You don't know how to say no. You didn't think about who was watching. You always just assumed they were bots. Then you think of the chaching noise and the amount flashing on the screen.

"BourbonBear?" You ask.

"Yeah," he cracks a crooked smile and smooths his hand over his thick beard. "Everyone calls me Syv.”

[my-jukebox]

I finished the one piece live action and I have to say, I loved it so much that I decided to write something!! Posting this on Sanji's birthday, because why not?

When you cook for them

Genre: Imagines, Fluff

Characters: (gn!reader) Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Nami, Shanks, and Mihawk.

Luffy

Would try to help you out but ends up eating most of the ingredients.

According to him, he's your taste tester and sous chef but God forbid, anyone letting him in the kitchen.

After throwing him out of the kitchen, you could finally cook in peace.

He would be pouting and everything when you get out of the kitchen but immediately smiles brightly when he sees the dishes all set out.

Would drool before you even serve him, and talks with his mouth full.

Devours the food like it's his last meal and savours every moment of it.

After eating, as a way of saying thanks, he would help you by cleaning the dishes (doesn't do a good job but who's complaining)

Zoro

Gets surprised when you say you're cooking for him and frankly, doesn't disturb you at all.

But makes jokes on how you'll burn the kitchen down, burn the food, and whatnot.

He sits wherever he can best watch you cook while sipping on his wine.

Every time you catch him gawking at you, he shrugs it off saying he was looking at the food instead, but the blush on his face says otherwise.

Once you're done, he doesn't hesitate to dig in like there's no tomorrow.

It doesn't matter if you cook badly or not, he'll eat it without complaining because that's just how much he loves you.

He pours some wine for you and sits as close as he possibly can, intertwining your fingers together.

Will also help you clean up as an excuse to spend more time together.

Sanji

The most annoying out of everyone here, honestly.

Keeps asking you what you're adding and why, what you're making, and the usual "you're doing it all wrong babe."

Still lets you do your own thing while he looks over your shoulder.

If you add oregano to the pasta, he'll throw it out of your hands and won't even say anything about it.

After the final touches, you place the plate in front of him and look at him with hopes that he likes it.

For Sanji, anything you do for him is good enough. He won't ask for much.

As he finishes eating, he'll look at you and for the hell of it, says, "Not bad."

A glare is enough to shut him up and smirk at you as you slowly break into laughter.

Nami

She would be the most delighted, after Luffy of course.

Volunteers to help out and goes grocery shopping with you.

You won't tell her what you're making, and she couldn't care less as long as you are the one making it.

Would love if you finish fast so you can give her attention but won't admit it.

Once you serve her, she's already humming and praising you.

Hopes you cook for her again, and next time she'll help out.

Shanks <3

Tells you that you don't have to but secretly loves that you're doing it for him.

Whether you like it or not, he's going to sit atop the counter and make his stupid puns, knowing you'll laugh at them even if they aren't funny.

He tells you stories of the crew and his adventures.

Helps you serve the food and has you sit with him on the counter as he eats.

Doesn't matter if the food is good or not, he is eternally grateful for your hard work and makes it known by his sweet gestures.

After he finishes, he smiles gently at you and gets off the counter.

If you ask him what he's doing, he'll kiss your forehead and say, "Don't you want dessert? My treat!!"

Ends up making the worst dessert but hey, at least he tried.

Mihawk

When he sees you cooking, he won't even question it and just lets you do whatever.

However, he will wrap his hands around you from behind and rest his head on your shoulder.

Impatient as he is, he will keep asking you if you're done.

Once you're actually done, he'll say something along the lines of, "Took you forever."

Needless to say, he does appreciate the food you made for him, considering the shitty jobs he has to put up with.

The type to act like a food critic but knows shit about anything food-related.

Gives honest feedback though, but makes sure it doesn't hurt your feelings in any way.

This one was fun to write. I hope you guys enjoyed my first post. Feel free to request for more. I'll add a taglist if you guys want.

Do like, comment and reblog if you enjoyed!!

Masterlist

[aothotties]

Sneaky Link w/ JJK

WARNING: MDNI, Nanami and reader are in their early 30s, Oral (f. receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, cream pie, sex on a table, multiple orgasms, fluff at the end.

Nanami

So you and Nanami were actually married but mutually decided it was best to part ways due to work.

You two actually share a daughter who wants nothing more than for her parents to get back together. 

Mind you, she’s literally 6, so it’s not like you guys don’t already know what she’s trying to do. 

She’s lowkey the reason why he’s your sneaky link to begin with. 

To make a long story short, you were going on a date, little Ms. Matchmaker told Nanami, next thing you know your ex husband is waiting for you in your driveway and fucking you within an inch on your life in the kitchen. 

It’s been like 6 months since the link ups started and it’s starting to get more and more obvious, especially to family and friends.

He’s started grocery shopping with you, started coming back out to family events, he comes over every night for family dinners too. He’s so good at cleaning up too, sometimes…

“A-ah, Nanami!” Your back arches off the table he has you sprawled out on.

He ignores your pleas and continues on lapping at your clit with his tongue, he wraps your thighs around his head and moans at the way you taste.

You thank god Shoko offered to take your daughter for the night, but it also leaves you wondering it it was on purpose. 

The sensation of Nanami sliding his thick fingers inside your warm cunt pulls you out of your thoughts. He stands and hovers over you, he takes his thumb and rubs small circles on your clit.

“Nanami!” Your legs squeeze shut and you close your eyes tightly as you come on his fingers.

“Such a gorgeous woman, how did I let you get away.” He lays you back on the tablet and starts working on removing his belt.

“I miss you baby, we both do.” You bite your lip and open your legs slowly, the sight of your glistening pussy causes his pants to tighten. 

“Oh baby, I’m going to ruin you.” He pulls you down to the edge of the table and shoves his slacks down the his knees. He spreads your legs open a d lines his tip up with your dripping hole.

“Do your worst Mr. Kento” You give him a sly smile and he chuckles before filling you to the brim with his cock.

You moan as he pulls out completely before pushing back inside of you.

“You wanna see me do my worst?” He leans down so that his face is right in front of yours, you bite your lip and nod quickly. 

He presses a quick kiss to your lips before he easily fold you in half and drills your cunt like a mad man. 

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as he fucks all of his feelings deep inside of you, he wants you to feel all of the love he has for you with each thrust.

“N-nanami” You exclaim, he grabs your face and presses your lips together passionately.

Your second orgasm creeps up on you as his tongue fights against yours. His hips are showing how he feels while his lips are almost telling you.

“Give me another one my love, come again.” He rest his forehead against your shoulder, before gently sinking his teeth into the delicate skin. He lifts your leg up onto his hip and bucks his hips into yours.

“A-ah! I love you Nanami!” You confess, tears of pleasure and withheld emotions finally being released as you both reach pure ecstasy.

Nanami’s hips stutter at the confession and grabs your face in his hands ever so gently. He slides his tongue in your mouth and takes his time bringing you to your final orgasm. 

His lips never leave yours, and he groans into your mouth as his orgasm gradually builds up. 

“C-come inside of me. Give me another b-baby” Your eyes roll to the back of your head.

His hips completely lose their rhythm when you say that and he pushes your legs all the way up to your chest before coming deep inside of you.

You moan at the feeling of his warm cum filling your pussy up.

“Did I hurt you?” He sits up and tries to catch his breath, you shake your head and press a much needed kiss to his forehead. 

“Not at all, this was all perfect. It’s getting late, you might as well just stay the night.” 

He gives you a small smile before pressing a gentle kiss to your lips

“Now i see where our child gets it from.” 

Ari

Here's the links to the other parts: Gojo | Geto | Toji | Chose

[kimberly-spirits13]

Dating Bruce Wayne/ Batman (More)

The only person besides Alfred and later his kids that he lets in his personal space

He sometimes struggles setting boundaries with touch but you know his queues and he is more vocal about them when he’s comfortable with you

It’ll be along the lines of “I need more space” or maybe that he’s "not comfortable anymore"

He wants to be by you all the time though

Up in the front of the Justice league jet is where you two sit together

You are the two navigators because you work so well and he feels less stressed when you’re the one working by him

He wants all engulfing hugs please

Rests his head in the crook of your neck

He’s basically like a cat and just wants attention and sleep all the time

If you want, he’ll go shopping for galas with you

Has good opinions on fashion

"The train on that one is nice, but the color washes you out"

He likes to pick you up from work if he can

Opens and closes the car doors for you even as Batman

✨manners✨

Carries his mother’s ring around with him for the right moment

It’s either his mother’s ring or a custom made ring because not all people want to give their dead mother’s ring away

also not everyone wants their dead mother in law's ring

He’s not super jealous but he gets a bit protective if not touchy when you’re getting extra attention from someone

Only if it’s flirty attention though

Like when you come to the tower and Hal is flirting with you he’ll suddenly be right next to you, making the batglare

He likes to read in his library and go first edition book hunting

If you match the same level of excitement about things that he has, he’ll melt

He’ll eventually get comfortable enough that he’s alright asking questions to you

If he forgets or doesn’t want to research, he’ll just ask you

Probably not with others around though

He’s a serious guy but he’s a sucker for inside jokes

He thinks about them at the worst time too

“Mr. Wayne this PR emergency is no laughing matter-“ *tries to be serious but can’t*

He’ll pull you into a closet in the tower or an empty room just to reset or ya know 🙃

Lord knows that he can't cook much but the things that he can, he's really good at

I say he can grill just about anything but please don't make him bake bread

has a vast bourbon collection but mostly because he dad collected vintage bottles

doesn't really pop them open but for special events and late evenings

is a clean freak and he wants to scrub everything off after every patrol and every day

is the kind of guy to shower like 3 times a day and wouldn't mind if you joined him at least once

if you ask him to hold your drink even if you're not dating, he'll near kill anyone that seems untrustworthy near him with the drink

covers the drink with both hands and won't release his grip but to give you your drink back

walks on the side of the sidewalk closest to the road

when you have a new outfit, he'll spin you around to see and admire you

likes the names of "darling, sweetheart, babe, and my darling"

pinky promises kind of guy

"I'll be done with this report in an hour and then we can go somewhere to eat." "Pinky promise?" "Pinky promise."

Because in Bruce's words, you can't break a pinky promise

[holylulusworld]

Indecent Proposal (4)

Summary: Your boyfriend wants to be part of their empire. You are the pawn he’s willing to sacrifice.

Pairing: Mobster!Stucky x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, language, shitty boyfriend, the reader doesn’t take shit from no one, sexy mobsters, slow burn (kinda), implied character's death

A/N: This is a shorter, interlude chapter. I wanted to go straight for the smut but decided against it because…I’m a tease :)

Indecent Proposal (3)

Indecent Proposal masterlist

“What’s this?” Steve holds up your scrapbook. “That’s pretty. It looks like you put a lot of effort into this book.”

“It’s a scrapbook,” you sigh, and grab the book. “Forget it. Whatever I dreamed of back then will never come true. Maybe I should burn it.”

“What do you mean, doll?” Bucky worriedly places his hand on your shoulder. “What did you dream of? And why do you think this will never come true?”

You sigh again. “Mr. Barnes, with all due respect, look at the mess my life is right now. My boyfriend sold me to you. And whatever you want from me is far from love. All you want is my womb.”

Steve frowns deeply. They didn’t think so far. All they had in mind was to make you theirs and fill you up. “Doll…we…” Steve shakes his head. “Buck?”

You wave them off. “No biggie. Life fucks you over most of the time. It could be worse, right? Scott could’ve cheated on me with his ex and sold me to his bosses.” You chuckle darkly. “Oh-wait. He just did that.”

“Y/N, we are not so bad,” Bucky grins at you. “We promise to never cheat on you. You are the missing piece Stevie, and I were looking for all our lives.”

You sneer. “Let’s try to be painfully honest. You want to stuff me with dick and knock me up. There is no way out for me. How could I escape you and your husband?”

You walk toward your bedroom, ignoring their boring looks. If they force you to accept your fate, you won’t roll over and just take it.

“You stole her scrapbook?” Bucky grins as his husband thumbs through your scrapbook. “You are a dangerous man, Mr. Rogers.”

“She wanted me to throw it away,” Steve huffs. “I took it with me to find out more about Y/N than her blood type and what she does for a living. If we want this to work out, we should…”

“Buy her flowers,” Bucky suggests. “And invite her to live with us.”

“Slow down, Buck. We should ask her on a date first. But flowers are not the worst gift for a first date.”

“How about we murder her enemies too,” the brunette grins darkly. “I know she doesn’t want us to kill Scottie boy, but I’d love to do more to him than break a few bones.”

“You know…” Steve dips his head and smirks darkly. “We could just let him disappear because he fucked with us. He lied and broke our deal by not telling Y/N about the deal.”

“I love how you think,” Bucky cups Steve’s face, looking him deep in the eyes, “and I love you, baby. You know that, right? Y/N is going to be an addition, but she’ll never take your place.”

“Buck, if I’d believe for one second you want to replace me you would end up bending over the table, your ass spanked raw,” Steve chuckles at his husband’s expression. “Oh, you’d love that, huh?”

“We will see, Stevie…we will see…”

“Far well, Scottie boy.” Bucky locks his gun and tugs it away. “This was much too fast and painless for that bastard. I should’ve broken a few bones or cut him open.”

“A shot straight through the heart. Good job.” Steve leans over Scott’s lifeless body. “Y/N can never know we killed him after she asked us to not do it.”

“We did it for us, not her. Y/N’s hands are clean. She had nothing to do with this, Steve. But I agree. She should never get to know about what happened tonight.”

“She wanted a dress like that for her wedding? Nice. Very nice.” Steve is obsessed with your scrapbook. He read every line and looked at every picture. Steve even ran his fingers over the fabric samples.

“Stevie, what are you doing with the scrapbook? Do you want to find the perfect wedding dress for her or more?”

“I want to get to know her better. Y/N put a lot of effort into creating this book. We should take our time and find out what she wants and likes.”

“Hmm…that’s not the worst idea, Steve. Give me that.” Bucky snatches the book out of Steve’s hands. “Let’s see what we can do for our doll…”