armax97

[armax97]

A Love of Equals - Argument With Kento Nanami

Sara stood in the kitchen, arms crossed, eyes narrowed at her husband—her gorgeous, maddening, utterly devoted husband. Kento Nanami sat at the small dining table, sleeves rolled up, his tie loosened after a long day of work. He had just said something that made her blood boil.

“I’ve decided we’re investing in that new house near the city,” he stated with quiet finality, taking a sip of his tea. “It’s the best option for us.”

Sara’s face burned with irritation. I’ve decided—like she wasn’t a part of the decision. Like she wasn’t capable of making it herself.

“You decided?” she repeated, voice dripping with disbelief. She put a hand on her hip, her full figure exuding the confidence she had carried all her life. “Excuse me, since when do you get to decide for both of us, Kento?”

Nanami sighed, setting his cup down with a soft clink. His sharp brown eyes met hers, filled with patience—but also that unshakable authority he carried. “Sara, we talked about this. I listen to you, I trust you, but at the end of the day, I need to lead this household.”

Sara scoffed. “You need to? And what am I, then? Just someone you consult before you go ahead and do whatever you want?” Her cheeks burned hotter. “I didn’t marry a CEO. I married a partner.”

Nanami pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling slowly. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Oh? Then explain it to me like I’m five, since apparently, I can’t understand decisions about my own life.”

Nanami stared at her, then let out a deep, rumbling chuckle. Not because he wasn’t taking her seriously—but because he loved her fire. He adored the way her eyes sparked, the way she refused to back down. It was infuriating and mesmerizing all at once.

“Sara,” he stood up, moving towards her. He towered over her, but she never shrank back. Instead, she lifted her chin stubbornly, her curves stiff with frustration.

He reached out and gently cupped her face, his calloused thumb brushing over her cheek. “I would never make you feel like you’re not intelligent. You’re the smartest person I know. And the strongest.”

Sara’s lips parted slightly, her breath uneven. She hated how much he could make her heart race, even when she was mad.

“But,” he continued, his voice softer now, “I was raised to be responsible for my family. To make sure my wife doesn’t carry all the burdens. That’s not about control—it’s about protecting you.”

Sara’s anger wavered. She knew this about him. He wasn’t arrogant. He wasn’t dismissing her. He just was this way—this honorable, old-fashioned man who thought it was his duty to carry the weight of the world for both of them.

Still.

She poked his chest. “Next time, we decide. Together.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Understood.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I mean it, Nanami.”

His smile widened. “I know.” And then, before she could protest further, he tilted her chin up and kissed her—slow and deep, the kind of kiss that made her toes curl and her resolve weaken.

Damn him.

When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against hers, his voice nothing but a whisper. “You drive me crazy, you know that?”

Sara smirked. “Likewise, husband.”

And though they’d argue again—because fire and stone will always clash—there was no doubt, not even for a second, that Kento Nanami loved her more than anything in this world.

[armax97]

Protective - Kento Nanami

The pub was dimly lit, the warm glow of hanging bulbs casting flickering light over the polished wooden bar and the groups of people scattered around, deep in conversation and laughter. The air carried the scent of beer, grilled food, and the faintest trace of cigarette smoke from outside.

Nanami sat at the table with his friends, his posture as composed as ever, one hand lazily resting on his glass while his other subtly grazed Sara’s thigh beneath the table. She was beside him, engaged in a lively conversation with one of his colleagues, her lips curled in a slight smirk as she debated some trivial topic.

Nanami wasn’t paying much attention to the conversation—his focus was split between his drink and the way Sara’s fingers occasionally toyed with the rim of her glass, the way she shifted slightly closer to him as the night went on. It was in these quiet, unspoken gestures that he felt the strongest pull toward her.

Then, suddenly, the atmosphere in the pub shifted.

Voices raised. Chairs scraped against the floor. A commotion erupted at a nearby table.

Nanami’s senses sharpened immediately, his gaze snapping toward the source of the disturbance. Two men had jumped to their feet, knocking over drinks, their voices laced with aggression. A crowd had already begun to back away, some watching with morbid curiosity while others muttered about calling security.

Before Sara could even fully process what was happening, she felt a firm grip wrap around her wrist.

Nanami.

In one swift movement, he pulled her toward him and turned her body so that she was in front of him, his solid frame acting as a shield. His grip on her wrist was firm but careful, a silent demand to stay close.

“Come on,” he murmured, his voice calm yet commanding.

Sara didn’t protest. She knew better than to argue in a situation like this. Without hesitation, she let him guide her through the crowded pub, his hand slipping from her wrist to her waist as he moved behind her, his body a protective barrier between her and the escalating chaos.

Even as they walked, Nanami’s sharp eyes stayed alert, scanning the room, ensuring no stray fists or reckless movement would get anywhere near Sara. His fingers pressed firmly against her waist, grounding her, silently reassuring her that he had her.

They weaved through the shifting crowd with practiced ease, Nanami maneuvering her with controlled precision. His friends had already moved away, and as soon as they reached a quieter corner near the exit, he finally loosened his grip—but only slightly.

Sara turned to face him, tilting her head. “You always do that,” she murmured, half amused, half fond.

“Do what?” Nanami asked, though he knew exactly what she meant.

She smirked, placing a hand on his chest. “Move me out of the way like I’m some fragile thing.”

His gaze softened—just slightly—but his hand remained possessively at her waist. “Not fragile,” he corrected, his thumb brushing against her hip. “Just… mine to protect.”

Sara rolled her eyes but didn’t pull away. She knew Nanami well enough to understand—this was simply who he was. Her composed, intelligent, ever-protective husband.

And though she would never admit it outright, there was something incredibly reassuring about knowing that, no matter what, he would always be there, always keeping her safe.

------------------------------------

Nanami’s friends lingered by the entrance of the pub, glancing back inside now that the commotion had settled. One of them clapped a hand on his shoulder.

"Looks like it’s over," his friend said. "We’re heading back in. You coming?"

Nanami didn’t even hesitate. "No."

Sara, standing beside him with her arms crossed, frowned. "Nanami, the fight’s over. We can go back."

He turned his head slightly, his gaze meeting hers with that familiar unreadable expression—calm, firm, and absolutely unwilling to negotiate. "No."

She huffed. "You’re being dramatic."

"No, I’m keeping you safe," he corrected smoothly, already steering her toward their car. His hand was firm at her lower back, guiding her forward as she resisted slightly, dragging her feet just enough to make a point.

"You’re acting like someone was going to throw me into a bar fight," she muttered, clearly annoyed.

"I wasn’t going to wait around and find out," he replied evenly.

Sara groaned, throwing her head back in frustration. "Nanamiiii."

Nanami sighed, shaking his head as he unlocked the car. She wasn’t actually mad—just being her usual stubborn self. He found it endearing, even if she was testing his patience.

She climbed into the passenger seat with a dramatic huff, crossing her arms over her chest. The moment he sat down beside her and started the engine, she turned her body away from him, looking out the window like a child pouting after being denied candy.

Nanami exhaled through his nose, a smirk tugging at his lips. "You’re cute when you act like this."

Sara’s head snapped toward him, eyes narrowing. "Quiet."

He chuckled, his deep, rich laugh filling the car. "Okay, okay. But I know exactly how to fix this."

Sara scoffed, still facing away. "Oh, really? And what’s that?"

He pulled out of the parking lot, his hand resting casually on the gear shift as he drove. "I’m stopping to buy you ice cream."

At that, her posture stiffened just a little. He didn’t miss the way her lips twitched, fighting the urge to smile.

She turned slightly, side-eyeing him. "What flavor?"

Nanami smirked, already victorious. "Your favorite."

Sara tried to keep up her tantrum for another few seconds, but the second he pulled into the ice cream shop’s parking lot, she let out a soft, defeated sigh.

"Fine," she muttered, finally facing him. "But only because I want ice cream, not because you won."

Nanami chuckled again, turning off the engine. "Of course, darling. Whatever helps you sleep at night."

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the smile forming on her lips as she stepped out of the car. And Nanami, ever the composed and intelligent man, knew that in the end, he always had the upper hand—because he knew exactly how to handle his stubborn, wonderful wife.

[armax97]

No Room for Debate - with Kento Nanami 🤍

Sara sniffled, curled up on the couch with a blanket draped over her shoulders. Her head was pounding, her throat raw, and every muscle in her body ached. But still, she insisted she was fine.

She had been taking medicine, drinking tea, and resting as much as she could. Hospitals weren’t her thing—she hated them, actually. The smell, the long waits, the cold sterility of it all. She refused to go unless it was absolutely necessary.

Unfortunately for her, Kento Nanami had a much lower tolerance for her stubbornness than she had for discomfort.

He stood in front of her now, arms crossed, his expression unreadable—except for the sharp, unmistakable edge of determination in his gaze.

"I already made the appointment," he said simply.

Sara groaned, sinking further into the couch, as if she could disappear into the cushions. "Nanami, seriously. It’s just a flu. I’ll be fine in a few days."

His jaw ticked. "You said that three days ago."

She opened her mouth to argue, but his next words cut through any resistance she had left.

"No. Don’t make me say it twice."

Sara blinked. His tone was firm—not angry, not frustrated, just... resolute.

And the way he was already grabbing her documents, his keys, and his jacket told her that she was going, whether she wanted to or not.

"Shit…" she muttered under her breath, pushing the blanket off her. "Fine."

She trudged toward the door, her steps slow and heavy, partially because of the flu and partially because she really didn’t want to do this.

Nanami was already there, holding the door open for her. He didn’t gloat over his win, didn’t say anything more. Instead, as she stepped past him, he gently rested his hand on the small of her back, guiding her toward the car.

As they settled inside, she sighed dramatically, crossing her arms. "You’re so bossy."

Nanami started the engine, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. "You say that as if you don’t like it."

Sara huffed but didn’t deny it.

Because, deep down, she knew—he wasn’t doing this to control her. He was doing it because he cared. Because watching her struggle through an illness, refusing to get proper care, had finally pushed him past his patience.

And, maybe, just maybe… she liked knowing that she had someone who wouldn’t take no for an answer when it came to her well-being.

Note: I love this maaan

[armax97]

One Flesh - Angst with Kento Nanami 🤍

The evening had started off tense, but Sara had promised herself she wouldn’t let it get to her.

Nanami’s family wasn’t bad, per se—most of them were welcoming, even kind. But his mother… she had made it clear from the moment they met that she didn’t think Sara was “the right kind of woman” for her son.

Sara had braced herself for the usual passive-aggressive comments, but tonight, it was worse.

"You must be very confident," his mother had said at one point, eyes flicking over Sara’s dress. "Wearing something so… fitted."

Sara had just smiled politely, refusing to let it show that the words had stung.

Later, as they sat down to eat, she overheard his mother whisper to one of Nanami’s relatives: "She certainly doesn’t look like the kind of woman Kento would go for. He’s always been so… disciplined."

Another chuckle, another whisper: "Maybe he just settled."

Sara clenched her fists under the table, her heart sinking. Settled?

She wanted to leave. But she knew Nanami would ask why, and she didn’t want to cause a scene. So she just kept smiling, kept pretending.

Until he walked up to her.

Nanami had been caught in conversation with some of his cousins, but the moment he approached Sara again, he knew.

She looked fine on the surface, but her smile was just a little too tight, her hands wringing in her lap. She wasn’t okay.

"Sara," he murmured lowly, so only she could hear. "What happened?"

Sara swallowed, shaking her head. "Nothing, love. I'm fine."

But she wasn't a good liar—not with him.

And then, as if fate had set itself against his mother, he heard it.

"If she lost a little weight, she'd look so much better in that dress," his mother murmured to a woman beside her. "It’s a shame. Kento could have anyone, and yet…"

That was it.

The room went ice cold.

Nanami’s entire expression darkened. His jaw clenched, his fists curled at his sides, and when he turned to face his mother, his voice was eerily calm—but lethal.

"We’re leaving."

Sara blinked. "Nanami—"

He was already grabbing her coat, helping her into it with careful, almost reverent hands before taking her hand in his.

His mother’s eyes widened. "Kento, you don’t have to—"

"I will never come back here if you continue to disrespect my wife."

The room fell silent.

His mother’s mouth opened and closed, the realization hitting her all at once. She had gone too far.

"I didn’t mean—"

Nanami ignored her completely, already leading Sara outside.

The drive home was silent at first.

Sara was staring out the window, quiet. Too quiet.

And then, he saw them.

Silent tears. Rolling down her soft, beautiful cheeks.

His heart broke.

"Sara," he whispered, guilt lacing his tone. He reached over at the red light, cupping her cheek gently. "I'm so sorry. I should have never brought you there."

She sniffled, shaking her head. "It's okay, Kento. Really, it's fine."

But it wasn't. It wasn't fine.

His lips pressed together in a thin line before he leaned in, pressing soft, lingering kisses to each damp trail on her face.

One on her cheek.

Another near her temple.

Then another, just beside her lips.

Sara let out a soft, surprised chuckle at the tender assault, her hands weakly gripping his wrist. "Nanami, stop, you're driving—"

"I don’t care." His forehead rested against hers, his warm breath ghosting over her skin. "You are the most important thing in my life, Sara." His voice dropped even lower, more intense. "I love you. You are all I need. All I want."

Sara closed her eyes, letting the warmth of his words wash over her.

Then, finally, finally, she whispered, "I love you too."

And just like that, the weight of the night melted away.

--------------------

The apartment was quiet. Too quiet.

Nanami sat on the couch, watching as Sara moved around their home with that too-careful air—like she was trying not to be noticed.

It had been hours since they returned from his mother's gathering, and though he had kissed away her tears in the car, he knew.

She was still upset.

"Sara," he called, voice even but firm.

She turned slightly, a forced smile gracing her lips. "Hmm?"

He narrowed his eyes. "Come here."

Sara hesitated. "I'm fine, Kento. Really."

Lies.

His patience thinned.

"Come here, sweetheart." His voice was softer this time, but it was not a request.

He reached for her, meaning to pull her onto his lap—to hold her close, reassure her like he always did—but she stepped back.

Refusing him.

Nanami’s jaw tensed. He did not like that.

He set his glass on the table with deliberate calmness, his golden eyes never leaving her. "Sara."

She exhaled shakily, arms crossing over her chest. "Do you regret it?"

His brow furrowed. "Regret what?"

She swallowed hard, eyes fixed on the floor. "Marrying me."

His breath stilled.

Before he could even form a response, she continued—her voice quieter now, weaker.

"If… if you want to break up with me, it’s okay, Nanami. I’ll leave."

His fingers twitched.

"Sara—"

"I don’t want to embarrass you anymore. Or hold you back." She let out a breathless laugh, but it was hollow. "Maybe your mother is right. You deserve someone better. It’s fine. We can just go our separate ways."

Separate ways.

The words sent an ugly, unfamiliar panic curling in his chest.

But what broke him was her final whisper.

"You’re too good for me… I—I'm sure you’ll find someone as good as you. And I… I can find someone on my level too."

Nanami stood so fast the chair scraped loudly against the floor.

Sara gasped as his strong arms wrapped around her, pulling her into his chest, holding her so tightly she could barely breathe.

His voice was sharp, filled with something dangerously close to desperation.

"Do not say that again."

She swallowed. "Nanami—"

He pulled back, his hands framing her face, forcing her to look at him. His expression was furious. But underneath it, there was something raw in his gaze.

"There is no one else. No ‘better’ person for me." His fingers tightened slightly. "You are it, Sara. You are all I want. And I will never—never let you go."

Sara’s lip trembled. "But your mother—"

"Is not in this marriage." His forehead pressed to hers, his breath fanning over her skin. "I chose you. I will always choose you. And I will spend every damn day proving it to you if I have to."

Her eyes burned with fresh tears.

His lips brushed over hers, soft but urgent.

"Stay with me, Sara."

She let out a broken little laugh. "Do I have a choice?." She said while hiding her face in his neck

His grip on her waist tightened. "You don't. You are stuck with me."

And when he kissed her again, it was with all the love, all the devotion, all the certainty in the world.

Note: This song reminds me of him 🤍

[armax97]

Intense - Kento Nanami

Sara was lounging on the couch, her legs draped over Nanami’s lap, absentmindedly scrolling through her phone as they playfully bantered back and forth.

Nanami, ever the composed one, had a soft smirk on his lips as he listened to her teasing him about something trivial—probably his strict work habits or his inability to take a proper vacation.

“You’ll retire one day, won’t you?” she mused, looking up from her phone.

“Of course,” he replied without hesitation.

Sara chuckled, stretching her arms above her head. “And when I get all old and grey, you’ll probably want someone new and fresh to keep you entertained, huh?”

She said it with a teasing lilt, her voice light, her expression playful. She didn’t really believe it. But the words had barely left her lips when she felt the shift in the air.

Nanami’s jaw tensed. His smirk disappeared, replaced with something dangerous.

“I would never,” he said, his voice firm, unwavering.

Sara blinked at him, caught off guard by his intensity. “Oh, come on, Kento,” she laughed, waving a hand dismissively. “You don’t have to pretend. It’s fine. I’ll just find myself a nice older man to take care of me—”

“Excuse me?”

His voice was sharp. Low.

Sara barely had time to react before Nanami grabbed her wrist, gently but firmly, pulling her closer. His fingers pressed into her skin just enough to make her heart race.

“You think I’d ever let you do that?” he asked, his honey-colored eyes darkening as they locked onto hers.

Sara’s lips parted, her breath hitching at the sudden possessiveness in his tone.

She swallowed, trying to keep up the teasing act, even as her pulse betrayed her. “I mean… if you’re going to trade me in, it’s only fair that I—”

“You are mine, Sara.” His voice dropped lower, his grip tightening ever so slightly. “There is no replacement. There is no ‘someone new.’”

Sara felt her cheeks heat up, but she rolled her eyes, still trying to tease him. “Oh, please, you say that now, but wait until I have wrinkles and—”

Nanami moved in closer, his lips mere inches from hers.

“If I hear you say one more time that I’d replace you…” His voice was like a slow burn, warm and deadly serious. “I will remind you—thoroughly—why that will never happen.”

Sara’s breath caught in her throat.

There was something intoxicating about seeing him like this—his usual control slipping just enough to reveal the raw, unfiltered devotion beneath.

“…Fine,” she murmured, barely audible, suddenly unable to meet his gaze.

But Nanami wasn’t done.

His free hand came up to cup her cheek, his thumb tracing along her skin with aching gentleness, a stark contrast to the fire in his eyes.

“I love you,” he said, his voice softer now but no less intense. “Not some idea of you. Not a younger version of you. You. Do you understand?”

Sara swallowed hard, nodding slightly.

“Good,” he murmured, finally letting out a breath as he released her wrist and pulled her into his arms. “Because if you ever joke about leaving me again, I’ll make sure you can’t even think about anyone else.”

Sara buried her face against his shoulder, her heart pounding wildly.

“…Possessive much?” she mumbled, her voice half teasing, half breathless.

Nanami smirked against her hair, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“When it comes to you?” His voice was low, dangerous, and so full of love. “Always.”

[armax97]

Jealousy with Kento Nanami

The summer air was thick with warmth, the kind that made everything slow and drowsy. The house had the comforting scent of home-cooked meals, a mix of spices lingering in the air. Sara’s father had stepped out for a bit, leaving her and Julio lounging on the couch, catching up like old times.

Nanami had excused himself to take a shower after a long day under the sun, and while he was gone, Julio stretched out beside her, resting his head on her thighs with a tired sigh.

“You’re so dramatic,” Sara teased, laughing softly as she absentmindedly ran her fingers through his hair.

“Shhh,” Julio hummed, eyes closed. “Let me have this. Your lap is comfortable.”

Sara rolled her eyes but didn’t push him away. They’d been friends for years, and this kind of casual closeness was nothing new. It was just Julio being Julio.

But then—

A presence.

The quiet creak of the floorboard.

The air in the room shifted, a weight settling over them like a storm on the horizon.

Sara glanced up just as Nanami stepped into the doorway, towel still draped around his neck, hair slightly damp. His golden eyes locked onto the sight before him—Julio, resting comfortably against Sara, her fingers still tangled in his hair.

The muscle in his jaw ticked.

Sara had seen Nanami annoyed before. She had seen him frustrated, exhausted, even done with the world.

But this?

This was something else entirely.

He didn’t speak immediately. Didn’t make a scene. Instead, he walked forward with slow, measured steps—each one echoing with unspoken intent.

Julio cracked one eye open lazily. “Oh, hey, man—”

“Get up,” Nanami said, voice smooth but firm.

Julio blinked. “What?”

Nanami wasn’t looking at him. His sharp gaze was locked on Sara, a silent question in his eyes. Why?

Sara hesitated, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks. “Kento, it’s just—”

“Now, Julio.”

The shift in his tone wasn’t loud, wasn’t aggressive—just final.

Julio sat up immediately, rubbing the back of his neck. “Alright, alright, don’t get all scary about it.” He shot Sara a look that clearly said, What the hell did you marry? before stretching and heading toward the kitchen.

Silence settled between them as Nanami stared down at her, his broad frame still tense.

Sara sighed, tilting her head up at him. “Are you seriously jealous right now?”

Nanami exhaled slowly, dragging a hand down his face before rubbing the back of his neck—still damp from the shower. “No,” he said, but his reddening ears betrayed him.

Sara smirked, standing up and closing the distance between them. She reached up, brushing her fingers through his hair now, watching as his lashes fluttered just slightly at the touch.

“You sulk so elegantly,” she teased.

Nanami gave her a look—the kind that said he was very much not sulking—but instead of responding, he simply wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her flush against him.

“No more touching other men’s hair,” he murmured against her temple, voice low and gruff.

Sara laughed softly, pressing a kiss just below his jaw. “Fine, fine. Just yours from now on.”

He huffed, but the tension in his shoulders melted just a little as she kept playing with his hair—only this time, it was exclusively his.

And that was exactly how he liked it.

[armax97]

Burning 🔥 with Kento Nanami

Nanami wasn’t used to this.

The cold shoulder. The lack of touch. The way Sara moved through the day as if he weren’t there.

It had started with something insignificant—something stupid. A disagreement over an umbrella in the morning. He had said he didn’t need one, she had insisted he should take it, and when he brushed it off, she had just stared at him before saying, "Fine. Do whatever you want."

The words should have meant nothing. But the way she said them? That was what had stuck with him.

And now, hours later, she was still acting distant.

She barely looked at him when he returned home. When he kissed her cheek in greeting, she turned her head at the last second, making it land on her temple instead. When he spoke to her during dinner, she only gave short, polite answers, her hands occupied with her food, her gaze locked anywhere but him.

Nanami was a patient man.

But he had his limits.

Sara never withheld affection from him. She was his Sara—always teasing, always soft, always finding little ways to touch him, whether it was a casual brush of her fingers or resting her head against his chest.

But today?

Today, she was a ghost.

His skin was burning from the inside out, his body rejecting this cold distance she had put between them. It was like a fever, spreading through his chest, making every second without her touch unbearable.

He wasn’t used to this. He wasn’t used to being deprived of her warmth.

He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling through his nose. He had been trying to give her space, trying to let whatever was bothering her settle on its own.

But enough was enough.

He couldn’t take it anymore.

Standing from his chair, he strode toward her and stopped in front of the couch, blocking her view of her phone.

“Sara.”

She didn’t look up. “What?”

His jaw clenched. Enough.

He sat beside her, closer than before, and reached out, fingers lightly brushing against her wrist. She tensed—but didn’t pull away.

“Sara,” he repeated, softer this time. “You’ve been avoiding me all day.”

“I have not,” she muttered.

“You have.” His voice was low, unshakable. “Tell me why.”

She sighed, looking away. “It’s stupid.”

“I want to know anyway.”

Sara swallowed. Her lips parted, but she hesitated. Then, finally, in a whisper:

“I don’t think you love me as much as I love you.”

Nanami stilled.

The fever in his body ignited.

His fingers tightened around her wrist, and this time, he didn’t let her pull away.

“You think I don’t love you?” His voice was hoarse, almost unrecognizable.

She bit her lip, still avoiding his gaze.

His patience shattered.

Without another word, he cupped her face—not gently, not carefully, but with possession. With urgency.

“I don’t just love you, Sara.” His breath was warm against her lips. "I burn for you."

“I can’t function properly when you pull away like this. When you refuse to touch me, to talk to me.” He leaned closer, his forehead almost touching hers. “You say you love me more? Impossible.”

Sara’s eyes glistened, her lips parting slightly. “I—”

He didn’t let her finish.

Nanami kissed her, hard.

The moment their lips met, Sara gasped—not just at the intensity, not just at the way his hands gripped her like he was afraid she’d disappear, but because—

He was burning.

His skin, his hands, his forehead pressing against hers—it was all hot. Feverishly hot.

Sara’s heart clenched as realization hit her. He had been suffering all day. Not just from their fight, but physically.

She pulled back, her fingers immediately flying to his forehead. “Nanami—”

He caught her hand, bringing it back to his lips. “Don’t shut me out again,” he murmured against her palm.

Her chest ached. “You’re burning up…”

“I don’t care.” He kissed her wrist, eyes locking onto hers. "What I care about is you."

Sara swallowed, guilt flooding her veins. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

His grip tightened, his feverish skin pressing against hers. “Then come here.”

She melted into his arms, her warmth easing the fire in his body.

Nanami finally exhaled, the ache in his chest replaced by something calmer, something that only she could give him.

She was his cure. Always. ❤️

[armax97]

Warm Embrace - Short Fiction with Kento Nanami

Nanami had barely stepped into their home when he heard the unmistakable sound of keys furiously clicking against a laptop. It was rapid, almost aggressive, followed by an exasperated sigh and the faint muttering of curses under Sara’s breath. He had planned to greet her, maybe ask what she wanted for dinner, but the moment he rounded the corner and saw her, his plans changed instantly.

She was at the dining table, hunched over her laptop, her expression twisted in pure frustration. Her cheeks were flushed a deep red, a sure sign that she was either furious, overwhelmed, or both. Her lips were pressed into a firm pout, and her brows were furrowed so tightly that Nanami almost felt bad for them.

He sighed softly. He knew this look well.

Walking up to her, he placed a steady hand on the top of her laptop and, without a word, gently but firmly shut it closed.

Sara’s head snapped up. "Nanami! I was—"

But he was already taking her hand, his grip warm and sure as he tugged her up from the chair.

"You’re done for today," he said simply.

"But—"

"No." His voice was calm but absolute.

She groaned, dragging her feet slightly as he led her to the couch, but she didn't resist. He sat down first, then, without hesitation, pulled her onto his lap.

"Nanami!" she squeaked, squirming slightly. "I'm too big to be sitting on you like this!"

He only hummed in response, his arms wrapping securely around her waist as he pressed her against his chest. "You're perfect like this," he murmured, resting his chin on her shoulder. One hand found its way to her hair, fingers threading through the strands as he slowly, methodically, stroked them.

Sara huffed, crossing her arms. "You can’t just close my laptop like that. I had so much work to do!"

"Shhh."

"But I—"

"Shhh," he repeated, his voice low and steady.

She turned slightly to glare at him, but he only tightened his hold, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to her warm cheek.

Then another.

And another.

Each kiss was gentle, lingering, the soft press of his lips against her flushed skin melting away the tension bit by bit. She tried to keep her frown in place, she really did, but it was impossible with Nanami peppering her face with kisses like this.

A tiny twitch of her lips betrayed her.

"There it is," he murmured, his voice laced with quiet satisfaction as he cupped her face. His thumb brushed over her bottom lip, his gaze warm, adoring. "Beautiful."

Sara’s breath hitched slightly, her frustration completely forgotten as he leaned in, capturing her lips in a slow, lingering kiss. His warmth, his presence, the way he handled her stress like it was his own—it all wrapped around her like a cocoon, dissolving everything that had weighed her down just minutes ago.

When they finally parted, he rested his forehead against hers, a small smirk playing at his lips. "Better?"

She sighed, her arms finally uncrossing as she wrapped them around his neck. "You’re insufferable."

"And you’re adorable when you’re grumpy," he countered.

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the small, genuine smile that stretched across her lips. Nanami simply held her closer, satisfied that he had successfully melted away her stress—one kiss at a time.

[armax97]

Cold - Short Fiction with Kento Nanami 🤍

The sound of Sara’s fingers tapping against the keyboard filled the small home office, blending with the faint hum of the air conditioner. It had been like this for days—Sara lost in her work, barely lifting her head, barely even acknowledging him. Nanami had never been the type to demand attention. He never had to. Sara had always been there, always the one to reach for him first—hugging him from behind when he made coffee, squeezing his hips playfully as she passed by, pressing lazy kisses against his neck in the middle of the day.

But now? Nothing.

Nanami sighed, standing at the doorway. “Sara.”

No response.

He took a step closer. “Sara.”

Still nothing.

His chest tightened. He wasn’t good at this—at asking for affection. It had always been given so freely before, and now, without it, he felt… cold. Lonely.

He moved to stand behind her chair, hands hesitating before settling lightly on her shoulders. “Love, can you take a break?” His voice was gentle, almost pleading. “Just for a little while?”

Sara exhaled sharply, her fingers stopping mid-typing. “Nanami, please,” she snapped, frustration lacing her voice. “I’m busy.”

It was like a slap.

His hands fell away immediately. For a moment, he said nothing, swallowing down the sting in his throat. He should understand—he did understand. But it didn’t change the way his heart ached at how quickly she dismissed him.

“Right,” he murmured, voice quiet, controlled. “Of course.”

And then he turned and walked away.

-----------------------------

Nanami sat on the edge of their bed, staring at the darkened room. Hours had passed since Sara snapped at him, and the quiet weight of loneliness pressed against his chest. He wasn’t used to this—being an afterthought.

His fingers ran absentmindedly over the wedding band on his finger. It wasn’t that he needed constant attention, but he had grown accustomed to her warmth, to the way she always found a way to remind him he was loved, even in the smallest of ways. Now, the emptiness of their home felt suffocating.

He had tried to distract himself—read a book, scroll through his phone, even lay down with his eyes closed—but none of it helped. His thoughts kept drifting back to her.

Sara was still in her office. The faint glow of her computer screen flickered under the door, the rhythmic tapping of her keyboard a cruel reminder that she was still working, still too busy to come to him.

Nanami sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. Maybe he was being childish, but he missed her. He missed the way she used to tease him, the way she’d pull him into her lap like he wasn’t twice her size, the way her hands would find his hips and squeeze like she couldn’t help herself.

And now? Now she was just… gone. Even though she was only a room away.

Another hour passed.

The clock on the nightstand read 2:13 AM. Nanami’s patience was usually endless, but tonight, it was running thin. He sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, and exhaled slowly.

Enough was enough.

He wasn’t going to beg for attention, but he also wasn’t going to spend another night feeling like a ghost in his own home.

Nanami stood, squared his shoulders, and walked toward her office.

Nanami pushed open the door to Sara’s office without knocking. She was still hunched over her desk, the glow of the computer screen casting soft shadows across her face. Papers were scattered around, a cold cup of coffee sitting forgotten beside her.

She didn’t even look up.

“Sara.”

Her fingers kept moving over the keyboard. “Not now, Nanami.”

His jaw clenched. He had been patient. He had given her space. But the exhaustion in his voice was evident when he spoke again.

“It’s already past two in the morning.”

She sighed, rubbing her temples. “I know. I just need to finish this.”

He stepped closer, and this time, his voice was firmer. “You’ve been saying that for days.”

Sara finally glanced up, her expression tired and irritated. “I don’t have time for this right now.”

Nanami’s heart sank. “For this?” he echoed, his voice quieter now, hurt threading through every syllable. “You don’t have time for me?”

Sara’s lips parted as if she wanted to say something, but no words came out. Nanami studied her, waiting, hoping she would see—really see—how much she had been pushing him away. But instead, she just sighed and turned back to her screen.

That was it.

Nanami let out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head. “Right. Got it.”

And then he left.

This time, he didn’t go back to their bedroom. Instead, he grabbed a blanket from the couch, lay down, and stared at the ceiling, the ache in his chest settling deep.

For the first time in years, Nanami fell asleep alone.

--------------------------

The water was scalding, but Sara barely felt it. She let it run over her skin, washing away the exhaustion that clung to her like a second layer. The weight of the past few days pressed against her chest, and now, with her work finally done, she had nothing to distract her from it.

Or from him.

She had seen the look in Nanami’s eyes when he walked away. She had heard the hurt in his voice, the quiet disappointment. And yet, she had let him go. God, what was wrong with her?

By the time she stepped out of the shower, her mind was made up. She wrapped herself in a towel, dried off quickly, and slipped into one of his shirts—the soft, oversized fabric still carrying his scent.

The living room was dimly lit, the only illumination coming from the moonlight streaming through the curtains. And there he was.

Nanami lay on the couch, one arm tucked under his head, his brows furrowed even in sleep. The sight of him there, instead of in their bed, made her stomach twist with guilt.

She approached quietly, sinking onto the couch beside him. Slowly, carefully, she curled her body around his, pressing her front against his broad back. He was warm, solid, but stiff beneath her touch.

Sara sighed, burying her face against the nape of his neck, pressing a soft kiss there. Then another. And another.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered against his skin, her lips trailing down his shoulder. “I’ve been terrible.”

Nanami let out a slow breath but didn’t respond. She knew he was awake—knew he had felt the way she had wrapped around him, the way her lips traced every inch of his back, trying to soothe the wounds she had inflicted.

“I missed you,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “Even when I was buried in work, I missed you.”

She slid her arms around his waist, squeezing gently. “I know I hurt you. I know I made you feel like you weren’t important. But you are. You always are.”

Nanami remained quiet, but his hand finally reached down, resting over hers.

“You made me feel like a stranger in my own home, Sara,” he murmured. “Like I didn’t matter.”

Her chest ached at his words.

“I know,” she whispered, pressing another kiss to his shoulder. “I hate that I did that. And I’ll make it up to you.”

She squeezed him tighter, her hands slipping under his shirt to rest against his skin, needing to feel him. “Please, let me make it up to you.”

Nanami was quiet for another moment before finally, finally turning in her arms. His gaze was heavy, searching hers, and whatever he saw there must have been enough because he exhaled softly, lifting a hand to brush his fingers along her cheek.

“Don’t do it again,” he said simply.

Sara nodded, leaning into his touch. “I won’t.”

Nanami studied her a moment longer before sighing, pulling her fully into his arms.

“Come to bed,” he murmured against her hair.

Sara smiled, pressing one last kiss to his chest before nodding. “Okay.”

And this time, she wouldn’t let him fall asleep alone. 🤍

[armax97]

My Fanfic with Kento Nanami

Its a new project so...be kind with me

[armax97]

Jealous Nanami - Short Fiction

The evening was elegant, the atmosphere buzzing with the refined chatter of professionals, the clinking of glasses, and the soft hum of a string quartet playing in the background. Sara stood beside Nanami, her arm lightly brushing against his as they mingled with his colleagues. She was beautiful, draped in a sleek black dress that hugged her curves just right, but despite Nanami’s earlier whispers of adoration in her ear, she couldn't shake the nagging insecurity that gnawed at her.

It only worsened when a woman approached Nanami, striking up a conversation. Sara instantly noticed the subtle tilt of her head, the way she laughed just a bit too much at his polite responses. Nanami, ever the gentleman, remained composed, answering curtly but respectfully, never lingering too long in his glances. But to Sara, every second felt like an eternity.

She swallowed the lump forming in her throat, her mind racing with irrational thoughts. She knew Nanami adored her, but still… insecurities whispered ugly things. Instead of confronting her feelings, she did what she always did—she withdrew.

“I’m going to the restroom,” she murmured, barely looking at him.

Nanami turned his head slightly, sensing something off. “Sara—”

But she was already weaving through the crowd, not toward the restroom, but outside. The cool night air kissed her skin, a welcome relief from the oppressive weight in her chest. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes briefly. She just needed a moment to collect herself.

Nanami, however, had been watching her like a hawk. Even as he entertained the woman’s words with nods and brief responses, his focus had never truly wavered from Sara. When minutes passed and she didn’t return, an uneasy feeling settled in his stomach. Without hesitation, he stood, excusing himself curtly before following her path.

When he stepped outside, his sharp eyes immediately found her. But what he saw made his blood run hot.

A man stood close—too close—leaning in to kiss her cheek as he introduced himself. Sara, ever the polite one, offered a soft, courteous smile.

Nanami’s jaw clenched so tightly it ached. His ears burned red, a silent warning of his growing jealousy. His long strides carried him toward them in seconds.

“It’s time to go home,” he said, his voice low, controlled, yet unmistakably commanding.

Sara blinked, caught off guard by the sudden interruption. She could see the storm in his darkened eyes, the way his shoulders were rigid with tension. The man beside her instinctively took a step back, sensing the shift in energy.

“Nana—”

“Now.” His tone left no room for argument.

Sara exhaled slowly, nodding, sensing his turmoil. She bid the man a polite goodbye before turning to Nanami, who had already placed his hand firmly on her lower back, guiding her away. His touch was possessive, burning through the fabric of her dress.

The car ride home was silent, thick with unspoken words and simmering emotions. Nanami’s grip on the wheel was tight, his knuckles white. Sara fidgeted with the hem of her dress, stealing glances at him.

Finally, she broke the silence. “Nanami… I—”

His foot pressed the brake a little harder than necessary as he pulled up to their home. In one swift motion, he turned to her, eyes dark with a mixture of frustration, jealousy, and something deeper—something vulnerable.

“Don’t do that,” he said, his voice hushed but intense. “Don’t push me away.”

Her breath hitched. He wasn’t just angry—he was hurt. And she hated that she had caused it.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I just… I get scared sometimes.”

Nanami reached for her, his fingers threading through hers, holding tight. “You don’t have to be.”

She looked into his eyes, saw the depth of his love, his need for her, and suddenly, her insecurities didn’t seem so loud anymore.

And so, she leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his lips—an unspoken promise that she would try. Try to believe him. Try to believe in herself.

Nanami exhaled against her lips, his grip tightening. “Good. Because I don’t ever want to spend another night feeling like I’m losing you.”

She smiled faintly, resting her forehead against his. “You never will.”

[armax97]

Fic com o Deacon Kay (Swat) - em andamento ✨

Sinopse :

Quando a SWAT precisa de uma civil com uma aparência específica para uma missão internacional, eles recorrem a Sara, cujo avô era um antigo sargento da SWAT. A missão de Sara: infiltrar-se em uma festa de gala frequentada por um magnata turco que tem um gosto por mulheres curvilíneas. Enquanto trabalha disfarçada, Sara atrai a atenção do alvo, mas também chama a atenção de Deacon Kay, que possui sentimentos por ela e fica com ciúmes ao vê-la tão próxima do alvo.

[armax97]

E se eu postar minhas fics aqui também?

[armax97]

hii. could u write a deacon imagine where he gets jealous that a cops flirts with his wife, pls?

Flowers

Pairing: Deacon Kay x Reader

Warnings: none

This is a short one, I apologize if it feels rushed 🥺

MASTERLIST

———

“Officer Y/L/N!” looking up from your phone you came face to face with the patrol officer from yesterday’s hostage situation

“What are you doing here?” your eyebrows knitted in confusion when you saw the bouquet of red roses in his hand and the huge smile plastered on his face

“I just wanted to stop by and thank you personally for saving me in time” he outstretched the flowers to you and you hesitantly accepted it, he stuffed his hands in his pockets and he shifted his weight from one leg to the other

“You didn’t have to do that”

“I wanted to, also, I wanted to know if you’d be interested in getting a drink with me sometime” his cheeks became pink from blushing too hard, hand scratching his neck nervously

“Oh, uh, I’m flattered, truly I am” you slowly started letting him down unsure of how he’d take the rejection

“But I’m married” his entire demeanor changed, shock written all over his face 

“Oh I didn’t see a ring and though-”

“It’s totally fine but I really do appreciate the flowers” he shifted to the side and you caught a glimpse of your husband who was standing a few feet away from you both, shooting daggers at the officer in front of you. Deacon rolled his eyes and followed the others to the kitchen  

“You’re welcome, I should probably go before I embarrass myself further” 

Without another word he all but ran to the exit clearly regretting even asking me out, you admired the beautiful bouquet in your hands smile tugging at your lips as you headed to meet up with the rest of the team 

“Ooooo somebody’s got competition” Chris joked nudging Deacon’s shoulder as she passed him to get to the fridge 

“Who gave them to you?” Street asked taking a swig of his orange juice causing Deac to let out an annoyed huff, crossing his arms, scowl prominent on his face 

“Uh oh, he’s jealous” they quickly dispersed leaving just the two of us behind, placing the flowers on the table you walked over to your brooding man and wrapped your arms around his waist as he stayed put leaning against the counter 

“Baby are you jealous?”

No response which is a definite yes

“Are you seriously going to give me the silent treatment?”

Still no response

I know just what to do 

Removing yourself from his, you walked back to the flowers and ran your fingers over the smooth petals, smirking at the fact that you could feel his heated gaze on your back

“Well I guess I should find Mark and take him up on his offer for a drink”

“You better stop playing with me” he quickly walked over to you, placing his arms on either side of you successfully trapping you between him and the table. Turning to face him you placed your hands on his tense shoulders staring into his dark brown eyes

“You know you’re sexy when you’re jealous, I should wind you up like this more often” 

“Don’t make it a habit” 

——-

Tag list:

@mac99martin

[armax97]

Confessions of a SWAT Team

Pairing: David 'Deacon' Kay x fem!SWAT!reader

Summary: You and Deacon fell in love with each other, but didn't tell anyone. When officers closer to your age begin flirting with you, Deacon grows distant and won't tell you why.

Warnings: angst, fluff, age gap (not specific but I imagined ~15-20 years, so reader would be late 20s?), Deacon is protective, some arguing, mentions of insecurity, reader is somewhat shy, I used the term "suicide bomber" once in passing. Luca, Street, and Hondo meddle. I think that's all!

Word Count: 2.9k+ words

Requested Here!

Picture from Pinterest

Falling in love with Deacon Kay was easy. Telling anyone, including the man himself, is not so easy.

Deacon Kay never considered the idea of skydiving to be scary… until he found himself falling head over heels for you, the newest recruit. When you walked in on your first day, confident of your skills yet willing to learn your place in the team and receive feedback, he felt something new. You were quiet and reserved, willing to learn, and each time he complimented your skills or offered an idea to make something easier or for improvement, you opened up a bit more. More than attraction, there was a deep need to get to know you, to protect you, to stay close to you, and, later, to hide his biggest secret from you and everyone else. Deacon Kay was falling in love but knew it was wrong.

At the end of your probationary period, you and Deacon have a deep connection, secrets and all. His need to stay close and protect you has only strengthened with time, but every time he looks at you, sees your youth, and pictures the bright future you could have, he tries to silence his heart and listen to his mind. You’re too young and could do so much better, he thinks.

Two months into working with 20 David, you were trapped face-to-face with a suicide bomber. With no protection and no escape route, you maintained a brave act while hoping, praying, that your gear would keep you alive. With three seconds left on the detonator countdown, you feel someone wrap their arms around you as their shoulder blocks your face. The force of the explosion knocks you backward, twisting in your savior’s arms to land on top of Deacon. You feel the pressure build in your eyes as you yell at him never to do that again. He can never know, but his protectiveness scares you because it puts him directly in harm’s way.

After the bombing incident, Deacon gets closer. He puts himself between you and gunfire, taking several shots to his Kevlar while leading you to safety. During a raid with narcotics, a cartel leader jumps on top of you, and you struggle for the upper hand until Deacon hauls him off of you, finishing the fight on your behalf. After Deacon protects you, he always takes you back to the station, placing a gentle hand on the small of your back as he leads you somewhere private. He tends to your wounds and reminds you that he’s always there if you need to talk.

You want to talk to him more than anything, but Deacon is a Sergeant II, and he’s older than you, and, most importantly, he likely frowns upon inter-team relationships. So, you bottle everything up. Forever.

“You think he’ll ever tell her?” Street asks as Deacon walks out, close enough to you that your hands brush with every step.

“He hasn’t even told us,” Luca points out.

“Maybe we should do something.”

“Their relationship is theirs, guys,” Hondo interjects. “We shouldn’t interfere. Yet.”

Street and Luca smile at the thought of intervening in the future and seeing their teammates happy. They know Deacon is single-handedly responsible for breaking you out of your shell, but they’d like to see it go one step further.

✯✯✯✯✯

“She’s gorgeous,” someone says.

Deacon’s brow furrows as he hears voices grow louder. He tries to focus on the computer before him, looking for blueprints for an entry raid.

“Care for a friendly bet?” a second voice asks.

Several young officers dressed in street clothes stop beside the door where Deacon is working. He can see them, but they haven’t noticed him yet. His focus wavers when he thinks he hears your name.

“Of course, we’re still talking about her,” the first guy answers.

Deacon’s focus shifts completely, turning to face them. They’re close to your age and attractive, but what bothers him most is how easily they discuss their attraction to you.

“If you suggest a ‘first one to get a date with her’ bet, I’m out.”

“I was thinking more we see whose pickup line lands better, then we let her choose. She’s not a prize, she’s a person.”

Yet you’re planning to use her as an object in a bet, Deacon thinks.

“Were you at the range yesterday afternoon? She was there. I can’t believe how good she is. 20 David is lucky.”

“For more reasons than one.”

Deacon clenches his jaw as they walk away, still comparing what they've seen of your shooting and fighting skills. He watches you in awe, too, but they have a shot to get close to you.

“Focus,” he whispers to himself, facing the computer.

“Hey, Deac,” you call as you enter. “Hondo wanted to know if you found the property record? Although, I’m still arguing that this is a waste of your talents.”

You stop beside him, leaning against the desk and smiling at him.

“Uh, yeah,” Deacon answers, trying to look anywhere but at your beautiful eyes. “I got it.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m great. Let’s go.”

You nod slowly before following him out. Two men call your name, and you look over, tilting your head as they beckon you over.

“I’ll be right there, Deac,” you tell him, tapping his shoulder twice.

He nods, watching silently as you walk to them. They smile as they say something quiet enough that he can’t hear. There’s a small smile on your face, and Deacon thinks you’re introducing yourself.

Pointless, he thinks, they know more about you than they should. Not as much as me, though.

The thought catches Deacon off guard, and when he looks back up, the taller officer is openly flirting with you. You laugh and push a stray piece of hair behind your ear. Deacon missed his chance. He walks away while you continue smiling at them, seemingly enjoying their flirtations.

✯✯✯✯✯

You’re uncomfortable; these officers are 1) flirting with you while you’re still working and 2) way too young and immature for you. Forcing a laugh and moving your hand to your hair nervously, you glance over and only see Deacon’s back as he leaves.

“Well, I’ve got to go,” you blurt out, interrupting the worst pickup line you’ve ever heard, “but it was nice to meet you.”

“Oh, okay. We’ll see you around?” one asks.

“I’m sure we will, we work in the same building,” you answer before realizing that it sounds a little too much like an invitation to come talk to you again.

Rushing to follow Deacon, you enter an office behind him, and Hondo immediately starts talking. You stand by Deacon, but he doesn’t look over and roll his eyes at Hondo’s bad analogies like usual. Fiddling with your fingers, you try to focus but wonder what happened. He could have a lot on his mind, or maybe you did something wrong. You decide to give it some time and hope that it passes.

20 David spends the afternoon training, and when you get in the ring with Deacon, you expect it to go as usual. Typically, you throw a few punches and have to beg Deacon to fight back and make it fair. However, today, Deacon has no problem immediately giving you a full-force hit. You step back and catch yourself before returning the hit. You lose the sparring round, and Deacon climbs out without a glance in your direction.

When you see him later while preparing to go home for the night, you stay quiet. Part of you hopes he’ll yell at you or something - anything to acknowledge you, but nothing happens.

“Goodnight,” you say as Deacon leaves the locker room.

He nods without looking at you. Your heart feels like it’s in pieces on the locker room floor, and you take a deep breath before gathering your things to go home.

“Heading out?” Luca asks as he walks in. You nod, and he adds, “We’re going out for a little bit, want to come?”

“No thanks,” you say quietly, closing your locker gently. “See you tomorrow.”

Street opens the door from the other side and holds it, his smile falling as you duck your head and rush past him.

“What happened?” he asks Luca.

“Deacon,” he answers.

“Want to tell me why Deacon is slamming doors?” Hondo asks when Luca and Street exit.

“Is it just Deacon?” Luca asks knowingly.

“Should we do something now? That distance isn’t safe in the field and if she’s nervous around him…” Street trails off.

“We may have to. She’s not the only emotional one, though. Deac looked a little green on his way out,” Hondo responds.

“What now?”

“Let’s see how tomorrow goes. We have the gala tomorrow night, so something needs to happen. And soon.”

✯✯✯✯✯

 Sitting on your couch, you replay every event of the day. Obviously, you did something wrong, which is why Deacon is so eager for space between you. The only ‘bad’ thing that happened before he changed was the officers flirting with you, but you were still on time, so you didn’t do anything wrong.

If Deacon wants space, you’ll give it to him. It’s the least you can do.

The garment bag in your bathroom catches your attention, and you cross your fingers that the gala is enjoyable and not an evening spent avoiding and being avoided by the one man you’d like to dance with.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Hey, brother, you clean up nice,” Hondo taunts as Deacon approaches.

“You don’t look half bad yourself,” Deacon replies, a small smile tugging at his lips. He glances around but doesn’t find what, or who, he’s looking for.

“She’s not here yet,” Street says.

“What?”

Hondo shakes his head, and Street takes his cue, excusing himself to let Hondo and Deacon talk.

“What happened between you two?” he inquires.

“Me and Street?”

Hondo rolls his eyes before looking pointedly at Deacon. “You’re jealous.”

Deacon’s eyes stray from Hondo, locking on something behind him. Turning his head, Hondo laughs when he sees what is more worthy of his friend’s attention.

✯✯✯✯✯

Stepping into the large ballroom, you barely have time for a full breath before the officers from earlier sidle up to you and begin talking. You smile politely and nod, not listening to what they’re saying, as you scan the venue for Deacon. When you find him, he’s standing beside Hondo. Hondo steps away, and Deacon’s eyes lock on yours, his brown eyes wide as his jaw clenches. The eye contact doesn’t last long; Deacon turns his back to you and disappears into the crowd. Your heart and smile fall, so the men surrounding you switch tactics, openly complimenting you, though most of it doesn’t affect you in the slightest.

“Excuse me,” you mutter quietly, pushing between them to follow Deacon.

You deserve an explanation, and you’re going to get one. It takes a few minutes, but you find Deacon standing in front of a fireplace in what appears to be a private office off the back hallway.

“Deac?” you ask, wringing your fingers in front of your stomach.

Deacon doesn’t turn around, but he can see you in his mind (not that you ever leave), with your hair styled beautifully, an outfit that flatters you in every way, and glassy eyes and glossy lips. No matter what you’re wearing, street clothes, your uniform, or formal wear for a police gala, you always look perfect to Deacon. Tonight, though, you’re practically begging to be kissed breathless, to be adored, and if he looks at you, he won’t be able to restrain himself.

“What did I do?”

The question presents your insecurity and shyness, which take Deacon back to your first month when you could barely look him in the eye, and your answers had a five-word maximum. He rubs his hand down his face, hearing you shift behind him.

“Please tell me what I did to make you do this,” you plead.

“You didn’t do anything, I’m just working through some things,” he answers carefully, his back to you. “No big deal.”

“If it’s not a big deal then why am I losing you over it?” you snap, your growing anger overpowering your sadness and nervousness.

“You’re not losing me,” Deacon says, sighing.

“It sure feels like it, David.”

You never use his first name, and the moment Deacon hears it, he turns around. He sees you and loses some of his jealousy and anger but says what he needs to anyway.

“I just needed some space to think,” he replies. “Is that wrong?”

“Needing space to think and avoiding me are two different things.”

“I wasn’t ignoring you-“

“Then why did you leave? Why haven’t you said more than fifteen words to me in the last two days?”

“Why didn’t you talk to me at first?” he asks, his voice rising slightly. He regrets the question immediately but can’t apologize before you speak again.

“If this is what talking to you is going to be like from now on, maybe I never should have started,” you admit, dropping your head as tears gather at your waterline.

“You don’t mean that,” Deacon says quietly.

“Just tell me why. Tell me the truth.”

Deacon doesn’t say anything, and you bite your bottom lip as you think. Deacon wants nothing more than to grab your face, tug your lip free, and kiss you until you don’t talk to him, not because he created a rift between you but because he steals your breath. You’re all he’s ever wanted and more, but the idea still terrifies him. The rejection alone could kill him, but having to see you at work would be worse.

“If you want me to join another team or something, tell me,” you demand. “But I deserve to know why you decided I wasn’t worth the lack of space.”

Deacon’s eyes race to find yours. “This is not about your worth,” he answers, anger spilling through. Not at you, though; at himself, at the situation he put you in, and at those officers who have a chance at what he craves most.

“Then why are you acting like you hate being near me?”

“Because I cannot lose another person I love!” he yells.

You freeze, unable to form a reply. Deacon takes a deep breath when he realizes what he confessed. Your silence is worse than yelling at him.

“I’m sorry,” he begins.

“I love you too,” you whisper, a single tear breaking free when you smile. “I’m in love with you.”

Deacon steps forward, closing the physical and emotional gap. Taking your left hand, he raises his to wipe your tears. His hand lingers by your face as you smile up at him.

“I was jealous,” he explains. “Those cops were flirting with you yesterday and you looked happy. They’re closer to your age and you have more in common. It made sense for you to go for them, not me.”

“Deacon, I was uncomfortable, not happy. I turned around to find you and you were gone and then you just kept getting further away. I want you, Deacon Kay. No one else.”

“Care to dance with me?” he asks quietly.

“I’d love to. I’ve been wanting to all week,” you answer.

His smile grows, drawing your attention to his eyes as he leads you back to the ballroom. You don’t see any members of your team as you walk onto the dance floor. Deacon leads, letting you lean on him again, something you missed in the short time it was gone. The song ends, and you straighten, preparing to pull away.

“I want you too,” Deacon says. “But I don’t want to hide it anymore.”

“Then don’t,” you encourage, smiling as you tap his hand twice.

Deacon smiles and pulls his hands from yours, cupping your face and kissing you without hesitation. You slide your hands up his chest to rest under his lapel. Deacon feels your heart race, his thumb against the pulse point below your jaw, but his beats steadily below your hand. With each of Deacon’s movements, more of your breath, more of your life, more of you becomes his.

“Aye, Deac!” Luca yells from the crowd. “Way to go!”

“About time!” Street adds, leading a round of applause from the entire LAPD.

Deacon pulls back from you, smiling when you hide your face against his neck. He sees the flirty cops from earlier awkwardly clapping with the crowd. His hand rubs up and down your back, glad that everyone, you included, knows that you’re his and he is yours.

“Told you,” Hondo teases as he walks to Deacon’s side. “Green ain’t your color.”

“He only means figuratively, you look good in everything,” you mumble against his skin.

“Want to get out of here?” Deacon asks, his hands still on your back as he holds you against him.

“Please,” you reply, tapping his chest twice.

He leads you out, stopping you after you’re outside.

“Why do you tap me twice?” Deacon asks gently, his arm around your waist and his jacket over your shoulders.

“It’s the only way I could tell you without actually saying it,” you say with a shrug.

“Say what?”

“That I love you.”

Deacon smiles, tapping your waist twice as he moves you to stand closer to him.

His lips meet yours again, and when your hands reach his jaw, you’re not sure where you end or Deacon begins, and it’s perfect. Deacon Kay was easy to fall in love with, easy to be in love with, and he was absolutely worth the wait.

[armax97]

Hey dear,

I just read your Deacon x Reader cookie fic and it was so amazing. I think you got his character pretty good.

But then i saw you take requests.... soo, i have one for you. So i thought about a Deacon x female! Reader. Reader is a member of the swat and she has a crush on Deacon but never told anyone. What she dont know is that Deacon is also in love with her. And the other members do notice that he has a soft spot for her and is during missions a little protective. But he didn't even think about confessing. Since there is a age gap between them (you can decide how many years the difference is) sooo but one day he notices that the men on the station are talking about her and also flirt. He starts to get a little jealous and is a little distant to reader. Then there is this Gala where they have to be all dressed up. And reader looks really beautiful and there are other men, men who are closer to her age and you know he is jealous but sad at the same time. Reader think she did something wrong, so in the end they start to getting into a fight. He confesses his feelings and is suprised that she feels the same. After that he makes sure to make sure that nobody will make a move on you.

Puhh this get a little long. I hope you will consider to write this. You can even change things it is just a idea.

Hope you have a great day♥️

Posted Here!!🤍

Thank you so much for requesting and for the kind words! I'm glad you enjoyed the cookie fic and I am beyond happy to hear that I did a decent job capturing Deacon!!

I love this idea so much! I think I included pretty much everything you asked for; I used this as a base outline so hopefully I did okay!

Please feel free to let me know what you think!

[armax97]

hi, idk if requests are open but if so..

can you please write deacon x reader when during a case his wife saves a man’s life. the next day, the guy goes to the station with flowers to thank her and asks her out and deacon gets jealous!

Yes! I love getting them!

Enjoy! ❤️

Deacon’s station had been temporarily relocated next to yours while their headquarters were being remodeled. A firehouse, EMS station, and police headquarters all on the same block? It kept the banter between your first responder branches alive. You all spent your free time hanging out, training together, and cooking good meals to be eaten in between calls. You and your partner had just sat down with 20-David and the fire crew on for the shift when you were dispatched to a difficulty breathing call.

“Love you, Babe.” Deacon said as he chewed his mouth full of food.

“Love you too.” You responded. You had to be mindful not to kiss him or have any public displays of affection while you were on shift together. That was a BIG no no and would undoubtedly result in one of you two being moved stations. Despite being restricted on affection for 24 hours, you enjoyed sharing a station with your husband.

The rest of the house told you and your partner to be safe as you left to run the call.

You arrived on scene to find a 40 year old male having an anaphylactic reaction to some peanuts he unknowingly ingested while having a severe peanut allergy. He had given himself his epi per a friend on scene, but with no relief.

You immediately administered a second dose of epi, followed by 25 mg of benadryl, as well as a nebulizer breathing treatment. You and your partner were able to get him onto the stretcher and loaded into your ambulance where you got an IV and continued treating him on your way to the hospital. You had to admit, he was a stubborn one - as you would say. You threw the entire anaphylactic protocol at him down to intravenous epi and there still wasn’t a ton of improvement. Regardless, he wasn’t any worse by the time you dropped him off at the hospital.

You returned to service once you made it back to the station to restock. You told Deacon and Luca about the call. You were always excited to get to run good calls where you were able to use your full skill set as a paramedic. Deacon adored listening to you talk about good calls. He loved watching the spark in your eye when you talked about getting to help people and use the skills you trained hard to develop.

Deacon stood at the back doors of your ambulance while you put your supplies away.

“You are so beautiful, you know that, right?”

You looked up from your medication bag and smiled at him.

“You’re not half bad yourself, Kay.”

Your husband chuckled.

“I love getting to see you work and I love hearing you talk about getting to do your job.”

“Well, baby, you know I love what I do.”

A week later, you both were on shift together again. You were checking off your ambulance that morning while the firemen checked off their trucks and SWAT checked their gear.

You and your partner were lost in conversation together about a recent call you ran when you overheard someone asking a fireman for Paramedic Kay - you. The engineer walked the man over to you and you immediately recognized him as the anaphylactic patient you had cared for earlier in the week.

A man walking into the bays carrying an impressive bouquet of flowers caught Deacon’s eye - even more so when he heard the man ask for his wife.

“Who the hell is that?” Luca asked his teammate.

“We’re about to find out.” Deacon said, making a bee-line for your ambulance.

“These are beautiful. Thank you.” You thanked the man, taking the flowers from him as you smiled.

Your husband caught your eye as he approached the side door of your ambulance and stepped inside.

“As a thank you for saving my life, I would love to take you out to dinner one night, that is, if you would please go out with me?” The man asked.

Deacon was standing next to you as you sat in the captain’s seat in the back of the truck. You heard a low growl escape his throat.

“I thank you for your kindness and consideration, but I was simply doing my job. I love what I do, so I’m pretty good at it. However, I am married to a wonderful man.”

Deacon smirked to himself, “And even if I wasn’t married, there is a strict no-no on dating patients.”

Deacon looked at the man and noted he was visibly disappointed.

“There’s nothing I can say to change your mind?” The man asked.

As professional as you were trying to remain, your kindness was quickly wearing thin when the man asked you again after you had revealed to him you were married, but Deacon didn’t leave you time to respond.

“Brother, I believe she told you that she was married.”

Your patient became obviously disgruntled.

“Marriages don’t mean much now-a-days.”

You could tell that struck a nerve with your husband. His posture became more upright and he held his hand out towards the man, expecting a handshake. You kept silent to watch the scene unfold. You noticed Luca had approached the back doors of the ambulance as well.

“My apologies, I forgot to introduce myself to you,” Deacon began, “I’m SWAT Sergeant David Kay. Paramedic Kay is my wife.”

The man stuttered and turned around to leave without responding or shaking your husband’s hand.

“Don’t forget. Keep your epi pen somewhere that’s room temperature and replace them when they expire!” Your partner reminded the man as he walked off.

Once the man was out of earshot, you could no longer contain your laugher.

“Really?” You said, laughing at your partner.

Your partner shrugged.

“Fucker.” You heard Deacon mumble.

When you arrived home the next morning with your husband, you were undressing from your uniforms.

“David Kay,” you said sternly with a slight sensual tone in your voice.

“Yes ma’am?” He turned around after taking his shirt off.

You felt butterflies in your stomach. You always secretly loved when Deacon said ma’am to you, or called you mama, or his ole lady.

“Was that jealousy that I saw in you yesterday?”

You smirked and made your way over to your husband. You wrapped your arms around his neck.

“And if it was?” His voice was low and sensual.

“I’ve never seen that side of you like that before.” You rubbed the back of his neck with your finger tips.

“That’s because no man has openly disrespected you like that in front of me before. You are my wife. That should be respected.”

“You know I have eyes for you…” you traced his pecs and abs down to his belt with your fingers, “and only you.”

You stood up on your tip toes to kiss your husband.

He wrapped his arms around you, groping your ass with his hands, and moaned into the kiss.

You spent the day showing your husband that he was the only one you would ever want.