#// business operations been okay without me i hope it will be

[m0e-ru]

with everything thats going on i dont think i'll make it to that appointment with the apothecary this weekend i might as well be inhaling glitter

[velvetures]

Hi!!! I saw your post about taking some requests so I thought that I'll give it a shot. If it's possible, could you maybe do a Captain Price one? I haven't seen a story about him yet on your page, so I hope that this request can finally add one to your masterlist.

So here it goes: A Price x virgin!reader one. I feel like he's the type of guy to be really gentle and slow when he realizes that the reader is inexperienced, mostly due to his calm and caring nature. But once they start to get comfy, he'll get kind of rough in some way? And aftercare, I just know that this man would be an expert at it. Would help in washing them up in a tub or even cooking them a meal after. I could see that he's also a sucker for cuddles and just being close to them in general.

So yeah, I really hope that you'll consider this request and possibly write something out of it. If not, that's totally okay!!

Side note: I just wanted to say that I love your stories and that it brings me comfort, too:))

I Knew, Sweetheart

A/N: I'm so sorry this is so fucking looonngg!! I just couldn't get it right and I ended up going for "better is more" in the hopes that it'll hide the god-awful writing. :( Anyways, please don't burn me at the stake. It's my first Price fic, and I've still not got his voice or character dialed in. Summary: Reader is Price's gf, and while they've been together for a little while... sex hasn't come up. Nor the fact that the reader is a virgin!. Reader goes about bringing it up a little unconventionally, and things progress. T/W: virgin!reader, fem-reader, NS/FW 18+ ONLY, p-in-v sex, fingering, unprotected sex (don't do that IRL), established relationship, a little bit of an age-difference?, cursing?, first-time anxiety?, aftercare, probably missed something else. proofreading is for people w/ friends of which I have none.

John Price set himself apart from most of the men that he often worked alongside when it came to matters of his personal life and the ways in which he operated. A lot of people would often make jokes, saying it was nothing more than his being an “old man” who couldn’t adjust to the newer ways of life. But fuck, he wasn’t that old when it came right down to it, and yes he liked going along with the traditional ways specifically when it came to relationships, at least when he had the chance to. He’d been a lot younger at one point, not seeing how detrimental his actions could’ve been affecting the women he associated with or spent a few hours in bed with just to leave without another word sent their way.

Captain Price knew he’d made many mistakes when the heart was involved. He threw away a lot of advice he’d been given growing up -some good and some bad- all because he thought he knew better or had enough intelligence to figure it out as he went. Much of that changed when he started realizing that he wasn’t fulfilled in the slightest. For a few years, he was bitter over the emptiness. Not understanding where it came from or how the fuck he could get rid of it. Unraveling layer after layer like a frayed pair of jeans, John kept questioning how he’d come so far just to be that alone. Praying his mistakes hadn’t destroyed his chances of finding a little sliver of humanity outside of his work to motivate him. Keep him sane in the most bitter of hours, and soft when everything and everyone else around him kept adding brick after brick into never-ending, emotionless walls.

Then you showed up out of nowhere, sitting on a barstool in one of the pubs he frequented when he had some time away from his work. Close to home and nowhere near busy enough to call a bar or club; John immediately thought you looked like you’d taken a wrong turn and wound up in an old man’s hangout. It took him a few hours of watching out of the corner of his eye to finally weigh the options of being shot down, or possibly making something out of a whole lot of nothing. His offering to buy you a drink led to taking a few puffs off of his cigar outside. From there he learned just about everything about you within the first few weeks of seeing you or calling here and there.

You liked to talk, a lot. Something John was thankful for since he developed a bad habit of just staring at your pretty face instead of listening like he knew too. Fuck it made him feel ten years younger. And that was something else that made your relationship feel unusual to the Captain. More than six years in age difference didn’t sound all that significant on paper. Yet it was more interesting than either of you thought it would be initially. Aside from just simple pop culture references and enjoyment of music and other low-stakes things, your lives were on different paces. John was stable… at least as stable as his work allowed for. While you’d finally got the job you’d been dreaming of, and hadn’t been working for a full year when you met him. Everything all together challenged John, and you as well, with figuring out what you wanted from each other. How you planned -or wanted to- go about making that happen. And if being serious was something that you shared an interest in.

A few months of going on dates and John walking you home was traded for him sharing half the dresser drawers in his bedroom with you. He was gone nearly all of the time, which put a damper on things but he liked having peace of mind that you were safe and in his home. Besides, it was a short drive from his house to your work and you could stop paying half your paychecks on rent and start saving it up for anything you really wanted. At least… anything John hadn’t already bought or given you. Well… there was one thing John hadn’t given you. And it began gnawing at your mind harder and harder every time he went away for a mission and came home without the slightest inclination to do more than give you a kiss.

John Price still hadn’t asked or hinted at wanting to have sex with you.

At first, you thought it was refreshing. Seeing a man old enough and patient to understand that sex wasn’t just given but earned. Yet every time you thought there would be a moment after a date or a ‘welcome home reunion’ where he’d finally bring up the topic, your expectations fell short. Plenty of excuses floated around your brain, including the more rational ones: he was just very respectful. While others were much more self-conscious and saddening: he was getting it somewhere else, or he could see that you weren’t experienced. The age-old struggle of being a virgin past the age of eighteen.

Too old for half the population, and far too young and inexperienced for the others. Sheltered didn’t describe you. You had toys and knew how to give head as well as having been on the receiving end. But going “all the way” eluded you by some miracle or curse. Looking at John in comparison to yourself was just as attractive as it was intimidating. You knew better than to think he didn’t know his way around the bedroom. He was just too smooth. Far beyond any man, you attempted a relationship previously. You wanted to think he respected you, but at the same time, waiting for much longer for him to make a move just felt like another eternity you lacked the patience and confidence to endure. So after a long night of overthinking and wondering how you could even go about bringing it up, you made a decision that when he got back home from his latest mission, you’d be the one to bring it up.

God your hands were sweating. He was supposed to have been home two hours ago and there was still no sign of his truck in the driveway or a single message from him on the phone you had gripped between your damp palms. Everything had been just fine all day, until the sun began to set over the hillside in the backyard, leaving you less than six hours away from John coming through the door. Worried didn’t even begin to explain how your stomach was tied in knots with a low burning fire in your throat. John had been nothing short of perfect -save for being gone so often- and you knew there wasn’t a single reason for you to be so overwhelmed at the mere thought of being an adult and asking him to have sex with you. Of course… You made up your mind to omit that you’d never done it before and just hoped the Captain would be too preoccupied with something else to notice.

Noticing the details quickly got turned around on you when the front door creaked open on its hinges and you hadn’t the slightest clue that John was standing halfway through the threshold with bags slung over his back and a small look of curiosity on his face. His pretty little thing, sitting on the couch with her arms wrapped around her bent knees and a deep stare somewhere far away from the both of them. He had to admit it wasn’t the first time he had caught you sitting with your eyes “comfortable” as you liked to call it; however, it was the first time he’d seen you wearing something quite that lacy for no damn good reason before.

Some kind of black, strappy, and frilly little number. It hardly left anything to the imagination, and John had to force himself not to go into deep thought about how you’d even got into the thing without instructions. It made your figure that much more eye-catching, and after staring at nothing but rain and mud for two weeks you were a sight for sore eyes. Even a Captain had to admit his biggest weaknesses to overcome himself and improve, but he wasn’t sure in that second if he could ever overcome -much less forget- how divine you looked. Honestly, he didn’t even know you owned it to begin with. But by the way, you kept spinning your phone in your hand, he had the vague gut feeling that you had something on your mind. A little more than dinner or fussing over the possible injuries he could’ve sustained while gone.

“Waiting on someone?” He asked lowly, trying his best not to startle you too much. Right away your eyes locked on his and widened. Almost like a little rabbit cornered by a fox and no hole to scurry into. He watched a flash of sudden panic overtake you and how quickly you reached for one of the throw blankets at the end of the couch to hide behind. Price chewed his tongue, forcing himself not to smirk at you at the moment. Wanting so badly to tease you a little bit for looking so sexy in that bodysuit, but acting nothing short of the little shy church girl getting kissed on the cheek for the first time.

“J-John,” Your voice sputters on his name a bit, forcing a smile to his face. He couldn’t help it after being away for this long without the chance to hear you even over the phone for a few minutes. “You’re home a little late.”

He nods, guilty. “Delayed flight. Weather kept us from movin’ out on time.”

Careful, he dropped his bags off at the front door without the slightest concern about how long they’d sit there. More important things were swirling around in his head. Trying to decipher if you were planning something and just backed out, or if you just needed a little bit of coaxing to not be so shy. Hostage negotiation wasn’t something he thought would ever come in handy when it came to interacting with you, yet John found himself rounding around the chairs on the other side of the living room from you, and planning each step he made to ensure he didn’t spook you. That lingerie wasn’t for nothing, and he desperately needed to know what you planned on doing with it.

He licked his lips, taking a steadying breath. “What’s under the blanket, sweetheart?”

You swallowed thickly, “N-nothing… I thought - I hoped it’d look nice,” Fumbling pathetically for an excuse, you finally spit one out all under the very soft and lightly amused eyes of one John Price. “It doesn’t fit.” The second it left your lips, you internally cursed yourself.

John’s eyebrows raised, instantly grabbing onto that loose thread and pulling on it. “I’m sure you’re wrong about that…” He came closer, standing just in front of you on the couch with his hands on his hips. “Come on, why don’t you let me have a look? I’ll give you a second opinion.” His words made your heart stutter, and you weakly shook your head in response.

“I should just return it.” You mutter, scooting over to the side of him and attempting to sneak off with your protective blanket.

You’re not even close to getting away from John when he chuckles, one arm curling around your shoulders and the other getting a firm grip on the material you’re hiding under. Naturally, you don’t exactly fight to get away. But a furious blush breaks out over your cheeks and neck, feeling the preverbal trap tightened around your throat. He’s turning around and sitting down on the couch with a nonnegotiable silent order for you to take a seat straddling his lap. That alone is enough to drive you up a wall with anxious feelings. Not that you’d never sat on his lap before -actually it was quite common- but under these circumstances, there was a lot more than just a little bit of heat passing between the both of you. Very slowly, John found the edge of the blanket and slipped a hand under, searching out for your skin and eventually landing on a little bit of the lacy material stretching in a high cut over your hip. You can actually see his eyes darken, tracing along the hemline and mentally picturing what was under his fingers. Touch alone was making you squirm, avoiding eye contact and trying to keep quiet so as not to embarrass yourself even more than you already felt.

“Oh, sweetheart… fits like a fuckin’ glove.” He whispers lowly, hand palming your asscheek and toying with the thin little string that disappeared into the cleft.

“It’d be a shame for you to get all dressed up… go through all this trouble… then not let me see your hard work.” His voice lulled slow and steady, swaying your fears just enough for you to feel your head nod up and down a couple of times before letting the blanket fall off your shoulders and pool on Price’s lap. The front of the bodysuit had been well-hidden up until now, with you sitting so lady-like in his lap. But the thin straps just crossing around your tits and holding them up without a single stitch of material covering them totally, John thought he’d been shot right through the chest. Between the innocent look in your eyes, and that damned outfit making you appear about as sinful as hell, he couldn’t keep from letting out a low growl and squeezing your ass just hard enough to make you gasp.

“This is what you were trying to hide?” His breathlessness couldn’t be masked, nor could the frequent shift in his eyes between your practically bare chest and eyes. John chuckled, hands drifting towards your hips and up to rest on each side of your ribs. Pushing your tits together just a little bit, almost bewitched by the sight of you like that on his lap. “Oh, you’re such a pretty girl…” He muttered, almost to himself.

Shifting in his lap, you tried to keep your growing arousal and nervousness under control. Each touch set you on fire, and with John moving this slow you couldn’t be sure you’d live long enough to see another day. It was too good feeling a man actually appreciated a woman in front of him. Not just finding the small bits and pieces he preferred and overlooking the rest. You knew being nervous was natural, but the more John rubbed and soothed, it was getting harder and harder not to whine or ask him for just a little bit more to satiate you. Right away, John’s eyes darted up to you, and something you couldn’t quite describe flashed through his eyes just long enough for him to lip his lips and sit up a little straighter, pulling you to sit straddling just one of his thighs.

“I think I know what you want, sweetheart.” He smiled so damn affectionately that it made your heart jump. “But just so I know… why don’t you go ahead and tell me, that way I don’t miss anything. I don’t like to disappoint.” Toying with the zipper of his sweater, you suck in a nervous breath to steady your nerves.

“I want you to, have sex with me.” You hardly whisper the second part, still drawing your own attention towards anything minute that could serve as a focal point with your body shaking so badly.

“Hmm…” His thoughtful hum sends shivers up your spine, and the feeling of his hands massaging your hips makes it hard to breathe. “So I was right,” A smile crosses his face. “Well then, how about you go ahead and take care of this.” He growls a little, his fingers slowly tracing over the barely-there strip of fabric covering your core, already soaking wet with your arousal. Your little moan slips out before you can even try to cover your mouth, and John’s fingers slip away like he was purposefully trying to be mean and deny you a taste of relief.

“John, please…” You whimper, hands resting on his shoulders hoping he’ll take mercy on you.

He just shifts down to rest against the couch a little more and bounces his knee a few times, sending jolts of extreme sensation right up your clit into your lower stomach. You didn’t get it at first… what he wanted you to do. But now you did, and John almost grinned when he saw the realization, followed by the shy look you gave him. Encouragement was needed, and he was more than happy to deliver. Slowly rocking your hips back and forth along his pants, purposefully having settled you on the side that his thigh-holster was strapped to, adding two extra ridges that instantly began working to overstimulate you. It was too good, and not enough. Pushing your inhibitions just a little further out of focus and forcing you to really focus on how nothing more than his thigh was getting you to a release quicker than any toy or trick you’d tried on yourself. Impeccable alone, it was his low voice right in your ear that made everything outside of John Price holding you on his lap disappear.

“Doin’ so good, sweetheart…”

“Making me feel bad for not helping sooner… If I would’ve known how needy you were.”

“That’s it, love. Keep going, want you to let go. Right on my lap, then I’ll take care of you.”

His lips suffocated your moans and whimpers, swallowing each little pleasure and claiming it as his own. John hadn’t taken his time like this in years, but damn it was special seeing you -his pretty little thing- so needy and whining his name. So sensitive to the texture of his cargos that he was actually wondering if you could withstand something more… purposeful. God, he hoped you could. He wanted to tase you so bad after feeling just how wet you were. Fuck, even the dark khaki color of his pants was getting darker with each little jerk and grind of your hips. Thighs twitching and clenching around him like you couldn’t get the right angle, and were slowly getting more pathetically and innocently frustrated. He needed you hungry though… wanted to ensure that this was done properly. And if it meant withholding from you just enough to make sure you were desperate, he’d bite back every urge he had to give you everything right away.

John knew right away that you were a virgin. Either by just his ability to read people or by the way that you didn’t particularly use sex appeal to draw him in right when you first met. You weren’t innocent of how you looked though, and always dressed and acted much to the benefit of being seen as the valuable woman Price always believed you to be. Yet it didn’t escape his curiosity as to how you’d been able to slip through the grasps of so many disrespectful and predatory men who would’ve done anything to have taken their chance at you. Fuck, he was thankful beyond belief. He hated thinking that you could’ve needed to experience pain or discomfort at any point… but he never asked you simply out of respect and the knowledge that at some point the topic would come up. Only, it didn’t come to fruition quite like he expected. In fact, he never imagined that you’d had your first orgasm with him riding his thigh while sitting on the couch in his house. He wouldn’t change it for a goddamn thing, though.

In the moment, he’d wanted nothing more than to hear you. After hearing so many little whines and pleas for his help, he knew you’d sound so beautiful. But his own intentions fell to desire when he crashed his lips to yours, taking those cries of pleasure for himself. There would be plenty more to come for him to bask in the sound of. The first one though? He needed it. It was his to taste and keep forever. Alongside the taste of your pleasure, he relished in your shaking legs and the harsh bite of your nails digging into his shoulders hard enough to feel through two shirts. He felt your desperation just as deeply as his own, and while his cock straining against his zipper was not totally lost to his attention, John could easily stave off his own needs to make sure you were satiated just as thoroughly as deserved for coming on his pants like the good little things you always were.

“Good girl… You did so good for me, sweetheart.” His rough voice rumbled against your ear as his kissed you softly.

Petting your hair and rubbing his other hand down your quivering thigh. As much as he wanted to keep you right here and not disturb your come-down, he wanted you in bed. Needed to see you laid out like he pictured when jerking his cock after weeks of pent-up stress needed a release. Fuck he wanted to take you slow in his bed and wake up in the morning with you wrapped around him and the smell of sex on the sheets. Before you could really even catch your breath, John had you spread out on the bed with him staring down at you almost astonished. You were just as affected, seeing the heavy outline of his dick parallel to his zipper and ending just at his belt. His eyes caught your lingering, and he chuckled, biting his tongue with his back teeth before squeezing himself and shrugging like it wasn’t the hottest thing you’d ever seen him do. The little gasp you let out only gave him that much more confidence to keep teasing you as much as he’d been.

Slowly, painfully, stripping off one piece of clothing at a time and letting it drop to the floor. Eyes locked on yours like he was getting off to how you reacted to each little inch of skin that was bared to you. If you didn’t know better, you would’ve thought he enjoyed all of the attention on him. When in reality, he was just mesmerized by how in awe you were of him, looking like a war-torn soldier with his scars and hardened body. You were holding your breath for the moment he pushed his underwear down off his hips, standing downright predatory with his fist tight around the base of his thick and glistening cock. If you ever had a moment of hesitation about doing this with John, they dissolved in that single moment. Because your next movement was to reach your hands out, wiggling your fingers for him to come closer.

“What would you like?” He asks, coming to stand at the foot of the bed just out of your reach.

“You.” You answer a little plainly, making him chuckle.

“Not quite specific enough, sweetheart.” His eyes drop to your body hugged in that black outfit and he bites at his cheek. “But as much as I love you in that, I’d like to see you take it off.” A very easy request. Had it not been for your inability to reach the little snap at the back that kept you tied into all of the lace and straps. So, you very politely raised up and sat on your knees with your back to John and gave him the sweetest look you could manage.

“Give me hand, Captain?”

He nearly ripped the fucking thing off.

The moment he had your seduction tactic of clothing balled up in his fist, he felt the first little surge of his common sense holding him back a little bit. Base instinct screamed for him to sink into you as quickly as possible. But feeling your hands rub over his chest and your shy little kisses to his neck reminded him of circumstance. Pinned against your belly, his cock twitched in response to your teeth grazing accidentally over his collarbone. You were about to whisper an apology when John wrapped a hand around your throat to tilt your head up and suck hard just under your jaw. He liked when you did that… The thought gave you a little bolt of satisfaction. One that progressed into your hands sliding down his stomach until your fingers curled around his thick shaft, earning a warning sound of a moan deep in his chest.

“So fuckin’ soft…” He murmured against your shoulder, kissing it hotly and slowly rocking his hips against your hands. Teasing himself. Edging closer to try and raise a little bit of resistance so he wouldn’t spill his load on the bed long before he was damn well ready. Your silky little hands spreading his arousal over his length only lasted for a few minutes before John was pulling you away with heaving breaths and a flush breaking out over his cheeks.

“Too much?” You ask a little giggly when he lays you back and crawls up to kneel between your spread legs.

His reaction is one of raised eyebrows and a devilish kind of smile that makes you feel like you just made a little too accurate of a joke to be laughing. John gives you a little warning ‘tsk tsk’, shaking his head like he could try and hide the lust and affection swirling in his dark eyes at the sight of you giggling, and all spread out for him like a five-course meal the Queen of England couldn’t afford to buy. A wiser man might’ve believed himself worthy of you, enough that his dirty hands could touch you and try to give you pleasure in the way they assumed to know best. Yet John leaned over you with the knowledge that he was one of the most unworthy men on the planet, and you had so much grace and love inside of you that it didn’t matter. One little touch and you could cleanse him of every blood stain he’d not been able to clean or sinful act of revenge he couldn’t resist committing. Above all else, you’d decided in all your innocence of the world that you trusted him with your body as much as you’d already handed over your heart and mind.

John kissed you. Hard. With everything he had to offer in return for the invaluable

With that, he’s, hauling you up against him. He wants you laying right on top of him so he can sleep soundly with you right against him. He’s very quick to give you more praise and ask again if you’re feeling okay mentally and physically. You mention feeling just a little insecure, despite all of his very purposeful care throughout the whole process, but Price won’t have it.

Right away he’s kissing you softly, hands rubbing over your back and butt affectionately. Letting you know just how special he feels that you trusted him, as well as just how lucky he was to find someone like you in the first place. Holding the back of your head and gently cradling you against his lips; Tongue licking into your mouth and groaning softly when you mirror his movements, even going far enough to nip at his tongue. Using that same little hint of him enjoying your teeth on him. Just like before, you’re met with another warning sound of a growl, and John is pulling back and moving his head between your legs with a careful watch on your reaction.

“Can’t wait any longer, sweetheart.” He kissed your inner thigh sweetly. “Please let me taste your sweet little pussy.”

His words shock your body, and your head falls back with the little bit of erotic pleads overwhelming you. God, it was making you drip onto the sheets feeling him so close yet waiting for your answer. Pathetically, you couldn’t get the word ‘yes’ out of your mouth for a few long minutes. Just enough time for him to lovingly suck bruises onto your inner thighs and mean you scream out his name, squirming under his hands to try and get some real relief.

John takes pity on you, stopping long enough to let you catch your breath. “Come on pretty girl. Just say the word… I’ll make you feel so fuckin’ good.”

“Yes, yes, yes… please. I need more!” Your airy pleas fall like angel’s trumpets on his ears, as his mouth descends hungrily onto your cunt.

Licking through your slick folds and growling your own name back against your core with the sweet and alkaline flavor. Your hips buck up and you cry out, feeling his tongue lash over your clit for the first time and right away he’s got one forearm over your hips to hold them steady with the other hand held tight with his fingers intertwined with yours. His mustache tickles against your skin and you can feel him resting his head against your thigh, almost like he’s getting comfortable for an extended stay with his tongue in your cunt.

Another orgasm is ripped from you without warning less than ten minutes into John’s unyielding assault on your sensitive clit. And it’s this time that John ensures your thighs can’t wrap around his head for the sole purpose of hearing your loud and raw scream of his name. Blissed out, and shaking once again, John smiles against your pussy; Lapping up any remaining release he’d missed mere seconds before and feeling the dull pressure of your heels digging into his back.

“God, you’re so good for me sweetheart,” His praise blows cool air over your folds and you jerk a little, whining when you feel his lips return back down to you. Slowly, teasingly, he began all over again just as he did the first time.

It takes a couple seconds for you to realize he doesn’t plan on stopping. But when you do, crying for him to stop when he begins using his thumb to tease your clit while his tongue fucks slowly in and out of your clenching hole. John almost laughs, darkly and amused with your little cries and moans. Feeding off of your pleasure just to give it right back to you in the direct motivation of making you come on his tongue and fingers this time.

“F-fuck - John! Sh-shit,” Your stuttered voice falls into an unabashed groan when he teases his finger at your entrance, and slowly slides it deep into your fluttering pussy, squeezing around it tightly. Hungry for more, and weeping with each small curl of the digit hitting on your upper wall.

Your eyes roll back, and you attempt to push John’s head back to try and ease the stimulation, just to feel his hand holding you back and in place. It’s maddening, feeling so good that it’s almost bringing tears to your eyes, having already come twice -more than you typically gave yourself- and no sign of him letting you escape.

God, John was pushing you to the boundary of everything you knew about your own body, as well as giving you the first, raw, experience of just how good sex could be. Lifting your head up just to try and get a small glance at him, you catch the sight of his eyes, fiery and intense looking right back up at you with your own come soaking his mustache and the entire lower half of his handsome face. You clench around his digit again, being pushed that much closer to the edge just at the visual alone.

Your third release came as quickly as the first two, this time resulting in the delicious stretch of John’s three fingers pumping in and out of your cunt, literally slurping up your release; Almost dragging it out of you like he couldn’t stand the thought of not swallowing every drop. He whispered your name so gently as he came to rest on his forearms overtop of you, kissing your forehead with his wet lips and feeling his hair stick against your sweaty forehead.

“Sweetheart…” his tone had softened to the smallest whisper you’d ever heard from him. “Are you sure you want this? We can stop here if you’d like.”

Opening your eyes to see his handsome face and the slight of his hair in a total mess, you knew getting away with not mentioning your lack of experience was impossible. Your John… wasn’t nearly as unobservant as you’d wanted him to be. Without more than a tired little smile, you nodded. Raising your head weakly just far enough to kiss him gently, tasting yourself against your lips and feeling the slight quiver of his breath.

“Please, I want this. I want you John.”

Initially, no matter how much he’d taken care to prep you there was still a deep stretch as his thick cock began slowly entering you. Sweetly, he worked you through each little discomfort, giving you kiss after kiss and running his hands through your hair. Distracting from the little sting that had never been present with your toys, and praising you until his hips pressed flush against yours.

“Fuucckkk yes,” Price couldn’t hold back the loud groan as he looked down to see your pretty little cunt taking every last inch of his dick and squeezing so hard he could barely think straight.

“Takin’ my cock so good… Such a pretty girl, my good little thing…” His murmurs and curses slowly devolved the further you progressed.

Your body slowly adjusted to the intrusion and the gentle thrusts John made the moment you began squirming and pleading with him to move through your little hiccups. The unusual feeling of John moving inside of you slowly began to coax moans and praise from your mouth every time the crown of his cock rubbed deep against a swollen, textured, spot inside of you that built up pressure so quickly that you needed to wrap your legs around his hips to keep them from shaking uncontrollably. Each stroke got harder and harder, with John eventually pounding his cock deep inside of you, moaning and using one arm to wrap around your waist to hold your lower body still so he could bring both of you closer.

“J-John…” Your voice jolted with each snap of his hips as you tried to warn him.

Feeling that familiar yet almost destructive power of another climax rushing through your lower body. Convinced you didn’t have enough left in you to come again, you felt tears pricking your eyes, overwhelmed with immense pleasure skyrocketing you towards a final orgasm you kept denying until John’s fingers reached between you and expertly began rubbing tight circles around your clit, violently tossing you into whited-out vision, and muted hearing.

Above you, John found his own release and shared it at the same time as yours. Fisting the bedsheets to keep from grabbing ahold of you too tightly and bruising you; his cock getting squeezed so tightly from your climax that it was almost painful to stay seated inside of you. With so little arm strength left, he fell nearly full-weight on top of you and only propped himself up by his elbows to keep from suffocating you.

Utterly wrecked, and feeling more than you’d ever experienced more than you’d felt in your life, it took minutes before you could open your eyes and actually have enough of the mental capacity to realize that John was gently stroking your head, kissing your forehead and your nose, and holding you tightly to him as the strong muscle jerks and twitches in your body began to die out.

“You here with me?” Low and comforting, you smile dazedly with your eyes heavy and trying to focus on him.

You merely nod your head yes and give what you assumed was a ‘mhmmm’ but might’ve sounded more like a small animal being choked or drowned. Naturally, John’s lips spread into a very happy and amused smile, cupping your cheek with his hand and pressing a kiss to your lips softly.

“Come on, sweetheart…” John whispered, pulling your head up to his chest and gently easing himself out of you with a low sigh.

You’re once again lifted up and whisked away, this time, into the bathroom just off to the side of the bedroom where John carefully sits you down on the edge of the bathtub and starts running hot water with the lights dimmed low. Certain he’s got everything for your bath within your reach and the water is high enough for you to really sink down into in and relax, he gives you a soft kiss and promises to return after just a couple minutes.

He returns before you even work up the desire to wash your hair, and immediately takes over the task of getting you cleaned up himself. In between the lulls of soaps, and conditioners, John will pose quiet questions, asking how you’re feeling and wanting to know if there was anything that hurt you physically or was bothering you mentally. His care was intense and very personal, giving you much more confidence and comfort after having such a draining experience. Of course, you felt fantastic throughout, but when he asked if you were tired, there was a feeling that he already knew you were and expected you to tell him how he could best support you.

Other than letting your head rest against his chest. Leaving not one inch of your body neglected, from your face to your feet. Throughout the process you watch through sleepy eyes, seeing a very peaceful sort of look on his face while soaping you up and helping you rinse off and step out of the slippery bathtub into a warm towel you could only assume he’d thrown in the dryer just for your comfort.

Holding the towel around yourself, you peck him on the lips and smile, too tired to really say anything of real value. However, you’re certain John understands by the way his arms wrap you up and hold you tight to his bare chest while running his fingers through your wet hair, helping get out some of the little tangles your conditioner couldn’t quite take care of alone.

“I love you, John. More than anything.”

He drops a kiss on top of your head, rocking your weights back and forth in the dimmed light of the bathroom. Admiring your little form in the darkened silhouette of his much larger one.

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

“You’re my best friend.”

He chuckles, finding that so very endearing.

“You’re mine too.”

yeah... the "you're my best friend" part, me and my husband do that <3 so.... that's a thing.

[animeomegas]

The Quest for a Second Life - Epilogue

??? x ALPHA!READER

Summary: Having spent so long choosing their second life, the MC is finally rewarded and gets to live their second life. The only questioning remaining was... Itachi or Kakashi. GN!Dom!Alpha!Reader x Multiple Naruto Characters

Word count: 6.4k

Warnings: N-sfw content, tiny self-harm for magical blood potion purposes. All alphas have dicks, fyi.

A/N: And we're finally here! This is the end, and I hope people like it, even if you'd have preferred the other character. This has been a journey and a half, thank you so much for joining me on it. Merry Christmas to those that celebrate! I am deeply honoured to call @omeganronpa my friend, and seeing as I'm too far away to be around in person, I hope that this gets my message across as well as I had hoped 💗💓💞💖❣️

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Epilogue

James found herself lingering in the library when she knew she ought not to. She had just sent another human into their chosen pocket dimension, this time a historical romance, and she really needed to get back to her office to receive the next one. She knew this, and yet her feet refused to co-operate.

She couldn’t stop wondering after the human alpha she had recently worked with, although she wasn’t sure if humans would agree with her use of the word ‘recent’. They didn’t normally, and James had learnt that time flowed differently for humans than it did for Curators.

No, her mind was behaving badly. It was wandering off without her permission and whispering suggestions of going to check on the human alpha, even though James’ shift was still far from over.

Before she could think better of it, James turned and started walking towards the hidden backroom of the library, where books that were in current use were stored. Surely, it would be okay for her to have a little look at what that human alpha was up to. She would only linger for a little while and then she would get back to work.

She entered the backroom and scanned the shelves for the correct book. It wasn’t difficult to find, but she suddenly felt nervous. It wasn’t as if Curators weren’t allowed to watch the pocket dimensions, in fact, she knew several of her peers who did so regularly, but James had never felt the urge.

Until now.

“Just a quick peek, then I’ll greet my next human.” She opened the book and put it into viewing mode.

...

Ugh, you really shouldn’t have bought this much stuff. You juggled the shopping bags awkwardly, but persevered forwards as best as you could. It wasn’t your fault that there was a sale on today, how could you resist getting an entire bag of fresh peaches? You wondered if you could figure out how to make peach lemonade. It was the height of summer and a refreshing drink sounded like heaven right about now.

At least your new sandals were working well. They had been a gift from your parents when they returned from their business trip, and they were as cool as they were durable.

You dodged around a bush so that the branches didn’t abduct any of your shopping, grateful that you were getting used to this route now. Although you had grown up in the area, you had never really had a reason to stray this far. Of course, not until you met him.

Ugh, him. He was perfect. No, he was beyond perfect.

You had found him by chance, and the first few weeks had been a whirlwind, but you knew, more than anything, that he was perfect for you.

And there he was, in all his perfection, as you finally reached your home.

Itachi.

He was standing in the chicken run, his long, dark hair swept up out of his face in a more stringent ponytail than normal. You had helped him with it before you left, after his fringe kept getting stuck to his skin. He was wearing a pair of incredibly short shorts, and a loose T-shirt that always fell away from his chest whenever he bent over. It was a personal favourite of yours, but one that you never let him wear outside of your own home.

Itachi must have heard you, because he turned, a grin lighting up his face. You could see he had a smudge of mud on the swell of his left cheek.

Itachi was utterly stunning. He took your breath away effortlessly, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Alpha!” he called, lifting one hand up in a wave. “Look!”

It took you a moment to understand what he wanted you to look at, but you eventually realised that he wasn’t waving; he was clutching two chicken eggs.

“Amazing!” you called back, approaching the back gate, but stopping at the fence as you realised you didn’t have free hands to unlock it.

“The chickens are finally old enough to lay eggs!” Itachi was practically beaming as he exited the run. A couple of chickens attempted to make an escape, but Itachi flicked his fingers and gently knocked them back with magic. “Look!” He came right up to you now, letting you into the garden, and holding the eggs in front of your face.

“That’s brilliant, ‘tachi. Why don’t you help me get all this unpacked inside, and we can cook the eggs for some lunch. I have some peaches and lemons for lemonade, too.”

You both headed into the kitchen through the back door. You dumped everything on the table and gratefully slumped into a chair, thankful to be out of the hot sun. Itachi practically floated around the kitchen, still beaming. He unpacked what he needed and immediately started making lunch. He settled on shakshuka with the fated peach lemonade.

It was with great amusement that you watched Itachi don his cooking apron, the one you’d specially embroidered with ‘Proud Chicken Oma’.

After you had cooled down a little, you slowly unpacked the rest of the shopping, until Itachi called you over to the oven.

“I’m going to fry the eggs,” he said, sounding giddy. You had known that he wanted chickens, you did too, but the genuine joy that they gave him still surprised you. You felt so incredibly lucky that you had literally wandered into his life by accident, and that he had allowed you to stay.

“Let me watch.” You hugged him from behind and peered over his shoulder. And if you also took a quick sneaky look down his shirt while you were there, well, no one could prove it. It was probably too hot for hugs, but you couldn’t make yourself let go. You nuzzled into the area where you would one day put your bond mark, but for now lay unbroken skin.

Itachi wanted you to meet each other’s families before you properly bonded. Hopefully that day would come sooner rather than later, because having him walk around without your claim was driving you mad.

Itachi cracked the egg into the pan, and perhaps you were too much of a sappy romantic, but the lucky double yolk that it contained felt symbolic.

…

The silence was thick enough to cut. You took a sip of your tea to try and stave off the awkwardness, but it didn’t help.

You were sitting at your kitchen table with Itachi and his parents. Sasuke had been sent out to collect some eggs, most likely so Fugaku and Mikoto could talk to you alone, but even now that Sasuke was firmly outside, the silence remained heavy and oppressive.

“How long have you known each other?” Fugaku asked, finally breaking it.

“A few months, father.” Fugaku’s lips tightened and the lines around his eyes deepened. You got the vibe that he wasn’t happy with that answer. It was such a shame that Itachi cared about their opinions.

“And how did you meet?”

You cleared your throat, “Itachi found me unconscious in a snowstorm and nursed me back to health.”

There was a beat of silence, before Mikoto spoke. “Then you owe my son a life debt, you would do well to remember that.”

You were really getting the vibe that they didn’t like you. It was for that reason, that you hastened to reassure them that you had been looking after Itachi as well.

“Oh! Well, I returned the favour by giving Itachi my cloak when all his clothes were destroyed in the middle of the woods.”

Itachi immediately went red faced, and held up his hands, sputtering. Oh, whoops. That definitely sounded like you had been fucking in the woods. Of course, you had actually fucked in those woods, but that wasn’t what you meant to share with his parents of all people.

“We didn’t—It was an Amplexus plant!” Itachi explained hurriedly, his face continuing to darken. “I needed the seeds for a potion, and it got a hold of me, that’s all!”

Itachi’s panicked explanation broke the tension, as his mother started giggling, and his father sighed and put his face in his palm.

“Sasuke is our only hope,” Fugaku muttered.

It was at that moment that a squawk sounded from outside. Sasuke’s dulcet tones followed shortly afterwards.

“Try that again, you glorified rat, and I’ll burn off all your feathers, I fucking mean it, I—”

Fugaku sighed again and downed the rest of his tea like it was the alcohol he clearly needed.

…

There was no sweeter smell in the world than the one of yours and Itachi’s scents mingling together. And while you were certain many other alphas would say the same about them and their omegas, you were pretty sure you were right.

You panted onto Itachi’s neck, basically drooling. A joint heat and rut wasn’t the greatest for practical reasons, but fuck, if it wasn’t the perfect time to exchange mating bites.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” Itachi slurred, hips rocking up to meet yours at every thrust. “Bite me, alpha, claim me, please!”

You groaned, knot already catching on his rim. It was getting harder and harder to control yourself. Itachi mouthed at the juncture between your shoulder and neck, the place where he would soon be placing your bite, and your self-control collapsed like a house of cards.

Your knot tied you and Itachi together, plunging you both into an orgasm. Somewhere, through the haze, your teeth managed to find their mark. You bit down just as you started filling Itachi with your cum. Itachi seized but managed to bite back.

You rode the waves together. It was the longest orgasm of your life, and by far the most powerful. Your mind was clouded with lust and emotion. Every instinct in your body was screaming, but they were all screaming different things; it was making you dizzy.

Protect him.

Make him scream.

Get him pregnant.

Hide him away.

Show him off.

Love him. Love him. Love him.

Yes, yes, you were going to love him, you did love him… And everything was going to be perfect.

…

You ran out of your joint bedroom potions lab barefoot, having abandoned your slippers in your haste.

“Itachi! There’s been an incident!”

You heard a crash from the kitchen, and quickly, Itachi came racing out to meet you in the living room.

“What is it? What’s going on?!” He scanned you from head to toe but couldn’t see an injury. He had known that you were playing with magic, and he was rightfully worried about what you had managed to do.

“It’s gone,” you said, wide eyed.

“What’s gone?!”

“My dick.”

Itachi blinked at you, processing, before his face morphed into something horrified.

“What? How can—?! What were you doing?! What do you mean gone?!” He grabbed you by the shoulders and shook you roughly. “Tell me what happened!”

“I was just playing around and then suddenly it was gone,” you explained, wringing your hands.

“What spell did you use?” Itachi asked frantically. “I can reverse it. We can figure it out!”

“I don’t know… I mean, at least I’m still alive right? It could have been worse.”

Itachi was still horrified, and you’d wager that he didn’t agree with you.

“No! I mean, yes, but we still need to fix it. Let me see!” He knelt down and started to aggressively tug down your shorts and underwear. “Maybe I can perform a reversal of—”

He managed to get the fabric down and out popped your dick, unharmed and just as it always was. Itachi blinked at it. You started cracking up, unable to hold the laughter in anymore. Itachi, realising that he’d been pranked, scowled at you.

He stood, crossing his arms and huffing. “That wasn’t funny.”

“Yes, it was,” you laughed, wiping away your tears. “You’re completely obsessed with my dick, I knew it! I’m just a glorified dildo to you, huh?”

“You’re being ridiculous.” Itachi had delightfully rosy cheeks.

“Am I? So, you don’t want to suck it?” You playfully shook your hips, wiggling your dick, playfully.

Itachi wavered. You waited patiently.

“This has nothing to do with anything,” he said, kneeling down in front of you.

“Whatever you say, darling.”

“Shut up!”

He was so much fun to tease. Hopefully, he never found out that you had the same obsession with his nipples.

…

“We do need more space, but I still want to maintain that cosy vibe, you know?”

“I agree. We could always increase the number of rooms, but still have them all be fairly small and closed off.”

You and Itachi were pouring over several sketches, trying to design your new home. You had decided to move closer to the nearest town, although you were still staying firmly in the woods because neither of you wanted to give up your private sanctuary. You also just needed more space. You needed a bigger dining table, more bedrooms, a separate potions lab, and crucially more storage space so that you didn’t come across snake eyes in the fridge when you were trying to make a sandwich.

Thankfully, with Itachi’s magic, the local builders, and the money sent from your parents, it was sure to be a smooth process.

“I think we should have a bedroom for Sasuke to use,” you said, tapping on an empty part of the proposed floorplan. “Not just a guest bedroom, but one that’s specifically his.”

Itachi nuzzled into your shoulder. “You wouldn’t mind? Because that would be amazing.”

“Of course not. He’ll be old enough to visit on his own soon, and I want to make sure he knows he’s welcome.” You liked Sasuke and you understood why Itachi loved him so much. He was like a tiny murder kitten that loved to scratch people. It was adorable.

“We have the pup rooms, the lab…” Itachi peered down at the paper. “Is that everything?”

You hummed, considering. “I think so. Unless you want a nesting room. Although, I’ve never seen you nest before, so if you don’t want one, that’s fine.”

“Oh.” Itachi was silent for a moment. “I’ve never tried nesting before.”

You immediately wished his parents would return so you could punch them in the face. Carefully keeping all the anger below the surface so you didn’t make Itachi think you were angry with him, you brushed some hair out of his face.

“Do you want to try it? We can try together, and if you like it, we can get a little nesting space added onto the master bedroom.”

Itachi smiled, looking unsure. “Okay. I suppose we can try it.”

…

“Well, I’m not an expert, but I think I can help with a simple nest layout.” You leant back and surveyed all the materials you had for nesting. Most of it was stuff that Itachi had made, some of it was things you had made, and a couple of pieces were from a craftsperson in town, made from rarer and more difficult materials. There was more than enough for a nice nest.

You slotted the heaviest duty and flattest pillows into the corner and arranged them in a double layer before securing them together with a sheet.

“One of my old partners used to arrange the base like this. It works well.”

Itachi growled and immediately destroyed the base, stacking it in a different way. Oh, yeah, whoops. Itachi was way too possessive for you to casually be bringing up old partners.

 “You’ve had other omega partners?” he asked, still rearranging the base. His voice was carefully controlled, like he was trying to sound distracted, when in reality, his attention was fully on your answer.

“Yeah, I—” You paused, trying to retrieve the memories. It was strange… You could have sworn you had past partners but trying to grasp onto details felt like trying to catch smoke. You could see flashes of dates, gifts and physical features, but you couldn’t really make sense of it. You wondered if it was a side effect of the amnesia spell you’d had. You decided not to mention it in case Itachi got worried. “I’ve had a couple, but they didn’t go anywhere. It never felt right, y’know?”

Itachi hummed, reasonably placated.

You continued to help him with small suggestions until you recognised the signs of an omega in nest building mode. Instincts took over, and you leant back to let Itachi do it how he wanted to.

The nest was so very him, even for his first attempt. It was chaos, but organised chaos, with gentle colours and neutrals, and lots of wool.

 Itachi sat back, blinking the daze away. “Now what?”

“Now you get in it.”

“And… what’s the point? What will being in it do?” He was staring at the nest reverently, and you knew he was going to like it.

“It should help you relax.”

Itachi bit his lip, but gingerly climbed in and tried to get himself comfortable. He fiddled with a few final pieces, but once he was settled, he sighed, seeming content.

After a few moments, he looked over at you. “Do you… want to come in, too?”

You grinned, and agreed, carefully climbing in and spooning your omega.

With you there with him, Itachi curled his legs up to his chest and went boneless. His purrs were so loud that you could feel them in your chest, but he either didn’t notice or didn’t care. He nuzzled into the pillow his head was on, basking in the soft materials.

You kept holding him but tried to remain still so as to not disturb his first nesting experience. You didn’t want to distract him from his bliss. You were honestly so shocked that he had never nested before. Had his family kept him so busy from such a young age that he had never had the time?

You made a mental note to see if you could add a nesting nook for Sasuke’s room too, seeing as he was also an omega and had probably received similar treatment. If he couldn’t have one at home, at least he could have one here.

Suddenly, Itachi stopped purring.

“Is something wrong, baby?” you cooed, gently stroking his hair. “We can fix whatever it is, I promise.”

Itachi only whined, pushing his hips back into yours. He seemed really out of it, not that that was particularly surprising. If he’d been repressing himself, knowingly or not, for his entire life, then his instincts were going to try and take over the second they could.

“What do you need, omega? Come on, tell alpha.”

Itachi pouted, whining again. He shoved his hips back harder this time, like he was making a point. Oh.

“I see.” Your mind was racing at how hot he was. “Do you want to cockwarm, honey?”

Itachi nodded, his purring starting back up again now that you were understanding him. Oh, he was just the sweetest, horniest little thing and you would set the world on fire for him.

You carefully untucked your already half-hard cock, trying to avoid knocking anything out of place. When you were free, you tugged his trousers down and easily slipped inside him.

When your hips met his skin, Itachi purred louder than he had before, melting into the nest completely. His eyes rolled back, and he was lost in the fuzziness.

Okay… so you definitely needed that nesting room.

…

You looked around your new living room proudly, savouring the ‘new’ smell. The entire house was perfect. It kept the essence of the old one, but you had so much more space. No more tripping over cauldrons in the morning, or accidentally spilling powdered bone on the carpet when you were trying to clean.

You were almost finished with the unpacking. The house still seemed pretty empty, but that was good; the house would be able to grow with you.

Itachi had scurried off into the bedroom a few minutes ago with one of the boxes, but you were still sorting through living room stuff. You peered into the nearest box. And kitchen stuff apparently. Why did you own so many wooden spoons?

“Alpha?! Can you come help me with something, please?!” Itachi called from the bedroom.

You stood up, stretching out your sore arms, and then went over to the master bedroom. You pushed open the door easily.

“What do you ne—”

Suddenly, you were reminded of the very first time you had ever walked into Itachi’s bedroom in the old house, the time where he had been half naked and in the middle of changing.

Here, he was half-naked again, but this time it looked purposeful, because Itachi was wearing lingerie.

It was a two-piece set, made out of a dark blue silk that perfectly contrasted against Itachi’s pale skin. Embroidered on it were hundreds of tiny, silver stars, creating the image of a night’s sky. Extra pieces of gauzy, see through fabric had been attached to the top piece, which hide absolutely nothing, but acted as a delightful tease. The set was clearly hand made, and damn, he was again, taking your breath away.

“Well, hello,” you cooed, feeling that stupid horny alpha grin slide onto your face. “What’s all this?”

Itachi fidgeted bashfully as you approached. “It’s a surprise, a celebration for the new house.”

“It’s a lovely surprise.” You ran your hands over his heated skin, feeling the silk with your palms. You kissed him heavily, your fingers dancing along the edge of his panties. “This is perfect for the new house, do you know why?”

“Hm? Why?” Itachi moaned, tilting his neck submissively, and giving you access to his bond mark. You nipped around the scar before answering.

“Because we still need to break in the new bed.”

…

“That will be 500 ryo, thank you.” The man handed you the requested amount and took the pouch of amethyst dust in return.

“How many enchanted apples for these?” a little boy asked, holding up a lovely bouquet of flowers. Oh yes, he was the florist’s son, you remembered.  

“Hmm,” you took the flowers and appraised them. “How about three?” The boy nodded enthusiastically and grabbed three apples before running home. These flowers would be a lovely surprise for Itachi.

“Do you have any more of the inflammation potions?” an old man asked, approaching the store. You recognised him immediately and put the flowers down, ready for a likely lengthy and completely inappropriate discussion. “They’re great for the old joints.”

“We have three left. How many would you like?”

“I’ll take the lot, thank you.” You wrapped the order up and passed it over. He handed you money in return. “Thank you. There’s a lot of downsides to getting old, but the joint pain is the worst of it in my opinion. At least I don’t have to put up with heats anymore. They’re great fun when you’re young, but when your back starts to go, well, you find yourself wishing them away.”

You hummed politely.

“This is why it’s so important for alphas to hone their skills in bed. I can’t count the number of times a young alpha has believed they don’t need to worry about sex skills because an omega in heat is so far gone that everything feels good, but one day the heats will stop, and besides, some of the best sex happens outside of heats and ruts and all that nonsense.”

You laughed, shaking your head. Why did your market stall always attract the weirdest advice and clientele?

“I’d wager you know all about that though. Has Itachi come home with any surprises lately?” You must have looked surprised, because the man winked. “Who do you think taught him how to embroider silk?”

You snorted. Of course. You made sure to slip a complimentary headache potion in as a thank you.

…

“The bedding is all fresh and clean, we bought it especially, and this blanket, I knitted it for you so you’d be warm, it can get cold out here. Oh! And also—”

“I’m fine,” Sasuke said, a slight red flush on his cheeks. “You worry too much, big brother.”

You watched from the doorway as Itachi fussed over Sasuke. Now 14, he was old enough to make the journey here on his own, and this would be the first time he was making proper use of his room. Itachi had been driving himself crazy trying to make everything perfect. You reckoned he was trying to ensure Sasuke had a good enough time that he’d want to come back.

Itachi’s face screwed up in indecision. “Maybe I should get another blanket for you, just in case.”

“Brother—” Too late. Itachi left the room to grab another blanket, leaving you and Sasuke alone. He glared at you harshly. Oh dear, here came the kitten claws.

“I know several spells that would remove all the parts needed to make sure you never touch my brother again. Just saying.” Sasuke crossed his arms and tried to look threatening. You had to try to keep your giggles under controls.

“Itachi wouldn’t like that very much,” you said lightly, remembering his reaction to your ‘I accidentally spelled my dick away’ prank. “And besides, that would be a very rude thing to do to the person hosting you.”

Sasuke growled, but you only raised an eyebrow at him.

“What’s going on?” Itachi walked in, another blanket bundled up in his arms.

You immediately snitched. “Your brother is threatening to cut my dick off.”

Itachi gasped, “Sasuke!”

Sasuke glared at you, but you only stuck your tongue out at him. You were seriously looking forward to the next week.

…

“So!” you clapped your hands together and looked eagerly around at all the potion supplies. “What potion am I learning today?”

You had been having Itachi teach you magic since you moved in, and while you were hardly a prodigy like him and his brother, you were starting to get decent at it, especially potions.

“It’s a pretty simple one, but it requires exact temperature control,” Itachi explained, pulling over a small cauldron. “We’ll need to use runes to manage that.”

“Exciting,” you murmured, trying to recall which runes would work best for temperature control. Probably the same ones that Itachi carved on your hot chocolate mugs. “What does the potion do?”

Itachi smiled, “You’ll see when we’re done.”

“Nooo, Itachi,” you whined. “I want to know now.”

“Later, I promise.” He laughed as you pouted and starting rattling off the ingredients list. “Now, help me crush the beans.”

Time passed quickly as you concentrated on following the potion recipe as best as you could. Before long, it was a blinding white and gently steaming, just as the drawing on the recipe showed.

“It’s ready,” you said proudly, closing the lid on the jar of moss. “Now will you tell me what it does?”

“It needs some blood to work,” Itachi explained. He grabbed a sharp knife and held it to his finger.

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to hurt yourself. Could my blood work instead?”

Itachi laughed lightly. “That wouldn’t work; it has to be me. Don’t worry, it will only be the slightest prick.”

You weren’t happy, but you allowed it, and two drops of Itachi’s blood fell into the cauldron. It immediately started bubbling.

“What’s supposed to happen?”

“Well, it will turn one of two colours.” Itachi leaned over the cauldron and watched intently. “Gold or black.” As he spoke the potion turned to a brilliant gold and Itachi beamed.

“What does gold mean?” you asked, wishing he would just explain what this potion was already.

“Gold means that the person who donated the blood is pregnant.”

“Right, okay, and what does black mea— Hang on, what did you say?”

“I’m pregnant,” he clarified, watching your reaction.

You swallowed heavily, “What?”

Itachi giggled, “I’m not going to say it again.”

“Holy shit.” Your brain blue screened for a moment, before it rebooted, and the phrase properly sank into your brain.

Itachi was pregnant. Pregnant. As in, there would shortly be a baby, your baby, and his baby.

“I love you,” you blurted out, wide eyed. “We are going to need so much baby stuff.”

Itachi laughed, tearing up. “We’ll figure it out.”

…

“You can do it, Daiki! Come on baby, walk to appa!” You were crouched on the floor, arms open and ready.

Daiki gave a little pup whine, but still tried, toddling over on unstable steps. He managed to get three good steps in before he fell into your arms.  You caught him easily.

“Whoo! Look at that! You’re such a clever pup, isn’t that right?” You lifted up your baby and blew a raspberry on his stomach, dissolving him into giggles. Daiki did some proud wiggles as you put him back down, glancing over at Itachi for positive attention as well.

Itachi smiled, eyes glazed with sickness, from his position laying on the sofa. “Good job, baby.”

Daiki squealed, grinning and shoving a fist into his mouth.

Itachi was watching you both, even though he was unwell. This was the first time that he was properly ill since Daiki was born, and he was nervous about it. You had quickly learnt that Itachi had very low expectations of your parenting abilities. You tried your best not to take it personally, understanding that alpha parents in his family weren’t normally the most hands on, but it did sting sometimes. You were doing your best to prove him wrong.

Was it easy for you to do all the cooking, cleaning, childcare, and caring for Itachi at the same time? No.

But was it something you were happy to do while your partner recovered? Of course.

Speaking of caring for Itachi, you probably needed to resoak the flannel on his forehead. You shuffled over, keeping an eye on Daiki, and gently lifted the cloth. Like you’d expected, it felt warm to the touch.

You resoaked the flannel in the bowl of ice water and wringed it out before gently wiping down Itachi’s face.

“How are you feeling?” you asked softly, dabbing around his neck.

“I’m okay.” Itachi sighed and sent you a weak smile. “How are you—”

“Oma! Oma!” Daiki had crawled over to you both and grabbed a fistful of Itachi’s top to pull himself into a standing position. “Oma!”

“Careful, darling.” You unwrapped Daiki’s hands from Itachi’s top and supported him up yourself. He seemed to realise that something was wrong, because he blinked at you and Itachi, and curled in on himself unsurely.

“Oma?” he asked, bottom lip wobbling.

“Oma is poorly, but he’s okay,” you said softly, smoothing down Daiki’s hair. He looked unsure, but he eventually nodded and patted Itachi gently on the arm. Itachi took his hand and covered it in kisses, and Daiki finally relaxed.

Suddenly, from the kitchen, you heard the sound of dinner boiling over.

“Oh! Come on Daiki, we have to go and save dinner!” You stood up, picking up your pup as you did.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to do something?” Itachi asked, sitting up slightly.

“Rest.” You stared him into submission, and Itachi reluctantly laid back down. “I can handle everything, trust me.”

Itachi still wasn’t comfortable relinquishing control, but you’d get there. For now, you had a sick omega and a needy pup to tend to.

…

You pottered around the kitchen, putting away the washing up, while Sasuke diligently took notes on spellcrafting at the kitchen table. You were used to him being around by this point, as he had moved in five months ago to take a magical apprenticeship under Itachi. As you understood it, his parents had encouraged him to stay in their village for his apprenticeship, but Sasuke had insisted that Itachi teach him.

Thankfully he had mellowed out a lot, and now when he threatened to cut off your dick, he was only joking.

At least you hoped he was joking.

Itachi was out today manning the stall in town, which meant you were holding down the fort and looking after Daiki.

The pup in question was currently playing in the garden with Sasuke’s cat, who was just as prickly as him, but had a soft spot for Daiki. At four years old, you were okay to let him play alone as long as he didn’t leave the fenced in section, and you could see him from the kitchen window.

Sasuke sighed, putting down his pen to rub at his temples.

“Having trouble with the spellcraft?”

“No.” He gave you no other information, so you decided to pour him a glass of orange juice as a peace offering and sit down with him. Clearly something was weighing on the teenager.

“Is something wrong, Sasuke?”

“No.” It was a predictable Sasuke response that you didn’t buy for even a second.

You knew that he’d need a bit more prying. “Are you sure?”

Sasuke hesitated. You remained entirely silent as he battled with himself, knowing that any amount of encouragement would only cause him to clam up. Eventually, he spoke, his words coming out slowly. “My father sent me a message.”

“I see.”

“He wants me to come back home, now. He said he’s found me another teacher.”

You nodded, and carefully kept judgement out of your words. “And how does that make you feel?” Sasuke shrugged, playing with the pencil. “You know that you’re always, always welcome here, Sasuke, never doubt that. Even if you decide to stop studying under Itachi, you can always stay here or visit as often as you want.”

Sasuke’s shoulders relaxed and you knew you’d hit the nail on the head. “Okay.”

“Do you want me to tell your father that you’re extending your apprenticeship here?” Sasuke nodded, looked relieved. You gave him an affectionate squeeze on the shoulder, and he relaxed even further.

“Thanks,” he muttered, sipping his orange juice.

“Of course; you’re family.”

Outside, the chickens started squawking, which was your cue to go and grab Daiki, so you left Sasuke at the table and went out into the garden. “Daiki, what did I say about messing with the chickens?”

But it wasn’t Daiki, it was Itachi getting home that had set them all off. He was carrying multiple bags on his shoulders, and he looked incredibly winded. You ran over to grab the bags.

“Are you okay? Come on in.” Itachi panted and followed you inside. He looked completely exhausted; even Sasuke jumped up to help when he saw the state that his brother was in.

“What happened?” Sasuke demanded.

“Nothing, nothing, I’m just winded from the walk.”

“Bullshit!” Sasuke swore, putting a hand on his brother’s forehead. “You shouldn’t be this tired from a thirty-minute walk.”

“Sasuke, don’t swear,” Itachi reprimanded. “I’m just tired, nothing more.”

You raised an eyebrow, grabbing him a glass of water, but making sure he knew that you didn’t believe him. Itachi took the glass gratefully and downed the whole thing.

When it became clear that neither you nor Sasuke would be letting the issue go, Itachi sagged down in his chair.

“It’s nothing, really,” he insisted. “I think—Well, I’m pretty sure I’m tired because—”

“Because?”

“Because I’m pregnant,” he blurted out, looking to you bashfully. “I’m sorry, I was going to tell you soon, I just hadn’t decided how yet.”

“Wha—Really? That’s amazing!” All your previous suspicions were forgotten, and you hugged Itachi tightly, feeling giddy at the amazing news.

Sasuke sent you a suspicious glare, but he had long since made peace with the fact that you and Itachi were having sex as long as he was able to live in denial about it.

You laughed gleefully and covered Itachi’s face with kisses as he giggled. “I guess it’s only me on market duty for the next year then, huh?”

You filled up his glass again. Now that you knew he was pregnant, your instincts were going to remain in ‘overly doting’ mode for the foreseeable future.

“Actually, I was thinking…” Sasuke awkwardly trailed off, scuffing his feet on the ground. “Maybe I could take over some stuff with the market stall. We could open it more days a week then, and you could spend more time on parent duty or whatever. I mean, I still need to study, but I have some free time, and it would bring in some more money.”

You grinned, ruffling Sasuke’s hair. His sheepish expression melted into a petulant pout. “That’s an amazing idea! Seeing as you’re going to be around for at least another six months, it makes a lot of sense! I’ll take you with me a few times until you’re confident doing it alone, okay?”

He rolled his eyes, “It’s not hard.”

Itachi, pregnant and probably incredibly hormonal, burst into tears at the idea that Sasuke living with you would be a more permanent thing.

Sasuke, completely allergic to feelings, promptly fled the room with the excuse that he had to practice a potion, leaving you to delicately wipe Itachi’s tears away.

“I’m happy,” Itachi sobbed into your neck. “I’m so happy.”

“Me too, baby, me too.”

You were incredibly lucky to be able to say that and deeply and truly mean it.

…

James watched as the human alpha built a home with their children, their mate, their mate’s brother, their mate’s brother’s cat, and seven… turkeys? Something like that, James couldn’t quite remember the word for those tiny creatures.

The human was happy, and bizarrely, that made James feel happy too. The weird burning in her chest subsided, and she was able to close ‘Potions and Magic and Sex, Oh My!’, knowing that her human made the right choice.

It was with a light heart that James left the library to guide more humans, knowing that her human alpha was happy.

If you asked her, the human alpha had more than earnt a happy second life.

[hells-wasabii]

Hi Wasabi! I hope you’re doing good!

Could I perhaps request Sera/reader (GN) dating headcanons? Or anything you wanna write for her? I feel like she gets zero love. 😭🫶🏻

Tsym!!

A/N: Hello! So far Sera has been a joy to write for! I’m seriously looking forward to writing more for her!

Character: Sera

Type: Headcanons (Sera x reader, Fluff, Angst)

When Sera initially realized that she had feelings for you, because believe me when I say it takes her a while, she was admittedly hesitant. As stated before Heaven-born angels, especially seraphim, will mate for life, so she wanted to be sure that the both of you were on the same page. It was honestly painful to watch, often being a will-they-won’t-they topic amongst the more gossipy angels. Emily would have to jump in and play matchmaker if it goes on for too long.

She’s admittedly one to beat around the bush, as well. When she flirts, it’s more disguised as compliments and conversation than anything, On the other hand, if you’re the more forward type, you should know that she’s relatively easy to fluster. Sure, she’ll recompose herself, but you can easily tell by the flush on her cheeks if you were.

Being the head seraphim, it’s very important to Sera how she composes herself. She’s an angel that many others look up to, someone in a leadership position. That being said Sera is very reserved when it comes to PDA outside of dates. That isn’t to say that she doesn’t enjoy affection, she just prefers to keep that private.

Sera’s got a pretty busy schedule but she’s still sure to set time aside for the two of you. It’s up to you to help her slow down and relax from time to time. Sure, it can be difficult when it comes to relationships that operate around busy schedules, but so long as the two of you communicate, everything will be okay.

Now admittedly, at the start of the relationship, Sera has a bad habit of keeping something secret if she thinks that it’s too much for you to handle or that something might hurt you. She’ll view it as her burden to bear. You’ll need to reassure her that this is NOT the case. As a couple you need to communicate, and keeping secrets like that isn’t particularly healthy. Eventually, it will get to the point where there are no secrets between the two of you.

I had touched on how Sera would have confided in you about the exterminations, but let’s expand on it. To say that the knowledge of the exterminations put a strain on your relationship would be the understatement of the century. That initial conversation did not go well at all. And the ones that followed weren’t any easier either. The only real saving grace was that 1. It hadn’t even been her idea, it had been Adam’s, and 2. She quite honestly disliked them, the fact that she had signed off on it in the first place was a large source of guilt. But what’s done is done and she can’t take back that decision, not without exposing the exterminations to the rest of heaven.

After that, it took a while to get back to where you had been, but your relationship does eventually recover. From that point on, expect all the stops to be pulled. No more secrets. She’ll lay everything out in the open, confiding in you her deepest fears and regrets.

[mysteria157]

Chapter 19: Final

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Black Fem Reader

Word Count: ~12.4k (the last one I am in SHAMBLES)

CW: fluff, profanity, explicit sexual content, tears (from me, hopefully you too)

Summary: Things finally come together.

Notes: Thank you all so SO much for your support, for your kind words, for your likes and reblogs. It means so much just to hear one person tell me how much they loved my story. This was my first ever fic and I am so proud of it. It’s given me so much confidence and strength. I’m so sad to let this go, but I’m happy that I could close it well. Happy reading and I hope you enjoy!

Reblogs, likes, or comments are always appreciated &lt;3

Divider: @cafekitsune

Previous Chapter | Ao3 | JJK Masterlist

It Had To Be You Masterlist (Complete)

**Do not plagiarize any of my works or translate without my permission!**

“You’re quiet.”

Your voice startled Kento, causing his shoulders to briefly tense up before relaxing as he glanced up from the ball of dough in his hands. Since the early hours of the morning when you both had risen to prepare for the grand opening of his bakery, Kento had been unusually chatty, filled with excitement for the day ahead. However, as the opening hour approached, he began to fall quiet and you could see the subtle signs of anxiousness creep into his demeanor. He flinched again when you placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Do you want to postpone the opening? We can if you’re not feeling ready.” It was an out that you knew he wouldn’t take, but the suggestion still let him know that you were paying attention. 

Turning to you, Kento leaned down to press a reassuring kiss to your lips, acknowledging his nervousness but finding comfort in your presence. 

“I’m a bit anxious, but I’ll be okay. As long as you’re here.”

And so an hour later, on a warm day in September, the bakery doors swung open to a line of eager customers and Kento like the gentleman he was, offered a soft smile and polite bow to each one. You had to peel him away from the door and shove him into the kitchen so he could stay focused. All of the goods that sat pretty and delicious in the glass display case beneath the register sold out in less than an hour and Kento and his coworkers were more than happy to make two more batches to meet the demand. 

Amidst the flurry of the successful opening, familiar faces arrived, injecting a touch of chaos into the serene atmosphere. Not even two steps into the bakery and Gojo was already demanding sweet bread. Kento was too euphoric with the day’s success to care and he kindly brought Gojo a plate of sweet bread if only to keep him quiet for a few minutes. 

Chiyo and Santo could only contain your daughter for a few seconds when they walked through the door. From the sight of her father, Ulani was squealing happily and yelling ‘Dadda!’ before wobbling across the bakery to her father who squatted down to pull her into his arms.

“Hello, my dove,” he cooed, planting a series of kisses on her cheeks that made her giggle loud into the bread-smelling air. 

Ulani of course wasn’t much help at the register, she was more interested in trying to repeat the commands her father gave her. At 14 months she could only really say a few words and understand the significance, but she loved to repeat as much as she could.

“Now we say ‘thank you, come again’,” Kento spoke softly in her hair, securing her back as she sat on the counter and handed one of the customers a receipt.

“Tank you! Umajain!”

He chuckled down at her and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Close enough, dove.”

You kept your distance, knowing Kento was absorbed in the bustling operation of his business—greeting customers, overseeing the kitchen, and managing his employees. 

“Dadda is a natural, isn’t he?” you whispered in your daughter’s ear as she sat in your lap, her hands sticky with sweet bread. She dug her hands into what remained of her treat and stuffed a chubby hand in her mouth.

“Dadda make?” she asked, gesturing up at you with her wet and sticky hand. The blue clip in her hair was close to falling out and it hung by her ear on the tendril of a curl. She was a wild thing and you and Kento had both given up quite early trying to tame her. She would learn the world at her own pace, in her own time. It was just up to you and Kento to make sure she was safe and protected as she did so.

“Yes, Dadda made that. Is it good?” She hummed happily in response, stuffing more bread into her mouth. “Let’s wipe our hands off, baby.” You handed her a napkin, content to let her be as independent as possible even though she wiped her hands and mouth poorly. You snorted, taking over to wipe what she missed. 

Kento’s soft laughter echoed from the kitchen, something so rare and treasured that the thought of hearing it in public seemed so foreign to you. When you looked up in his direction, you were met with him behind the counter, leaning against the doorframe of the kitchen and his eyes already on you.

Before you could even offer a typical eyebrow lift of mirth, Ulani was wiggling from your lap and jumping to the floor—something you would probably have to start talking to her about before she hurt herself. Kento’s attention immediately shot to his daughter, and he scooped her up, carrying her away into the kitchen with only a wink in your direction.

The sun was setting by the time the ‘Closed’ sign was turned over on the glass doors of the bakery, painting the redone floors a rich orange that stretched the shadows of the large fiddle leaf in the corner across the entire floor. Chiyo had somehow conned you and Kento into allowing Ulani stay the night at her house and now, only your friends remained in the empty establishment.

“I would like to propose a toast!” Gojo spoke. Somehow, he managed to procure a small bottle of sake and shot glasses for all of you. “To Kento and the opening of his bakery. Yu would be—is very proud. Of course, 95% of this wouldn’t have even been possible without the future Mrs. Nanami but…Kento you finally got your dream. I’m proud of you and I know the rest of us are too. So, to Kento!” 

Kento didn’t bother to hide the dark blush on his cheeks, and he allowed a small smile to grace his face before lifting his glass in celebration.

“Are you ready to go, love?” Kento’s voice called from behind you an hour later. Your friends left a while ago, and you found yourself admiring Yu’s nerve plant on the windowsill while Kento wrapped things up in the kitchen. As you stopped tracing the leaves, you turned to face him. He was leaning against the door again, muscular arms stretching his white baker’s jacket in a delicious way, his blonde hair falling over his forehead as his brown eyes met yours without the cover of his glasses. 

“Giving that plant love will not make it grow. It’s incredibly dramatic.”

“You’re incredibly dramatic,” you retorted, propping yourself up on his desk. 

His eyes caught the action, narrowing on the way your jeans creased at the hip, curves pulling the sides tight as they rested on his oak desk. 

“Am I?” he questioned playfully, pushing off the door frame to make his way toward you. You kept your composure, ignoring the way your heart picked up in speed as the distance between you both grew shorter with each stride from him. Your legs parted for him easily, allowing him to step between and tower over you. “You’ve hardly shown me attention all day. On the opening day of my bakery.”

You lifted your chin in defiance, holding back a giggle even though he casted a jokingly admonishing gaze down at you. “How shameful of me. What can I do to make you feel better?”

He hummed, pursing his lips in faux contemplation as his hands slid along your jeaned thighs. His fingers dug into the fabric, pressing searing indentations into your body before yanking you closer to him.

“I couldn’t ask you to wake up every morning to make sweet bread for the business, so how about you relay the recipe to me?” Truthfully, you planned to pass the recipe to him later tonight as a surprise, but this could work in your favor too. “You walked around this entire place looking radiant and yet hardly a word my way.” Beneath his chiding, you could sense a light pout against your neck as he pressed his lips to your skin, igniting a fiery heat in your stomach.

“You were busy running a bakery, I didn’t want to bother you.” He bit the thin skin at the crease of your neck in reply, pulling a sharp gasp from behind your lips. “Seducing me won’t—”

“Don’t lie,” he interrupted, pushing against your sternum to make you lay down along his desk. The cold oak dug into your back, but your skin burned right through the chill. 

He was riding on the high of his success, eager in the way he trailed his large hands up the fabric of your jeans and dipped against the small gap of visible skin between your shirt and belt. His calloused fingertips slid up the skin of your torso, pushing your shirt to bunch beneath your bra. Deep brown eyes traversed the landscape of you uninhibited, hunger saturating his irises and pupils blowing out quickly before he dipped down to nip the skin beside your belly button. 

“Be a good girl and tell me the secret ingredient,” he whispered.

The command made you shudder, your eyes fluttering and breath catching in your throat as his wet tongue dipped into your belly button before sliding up the faint stretch marks on your torso. The heat in your belly began to boil, popping and crackling into what would be a raging inferno in only a few short seconds.

“What’s in it for me?” you croaked, uncaring of just how desperate you sounded.

“I’ll give you whatever you want. Right here…any way you want it.”

It was tempting, and the thought of him fucking you seven ways to Sunday on his desk did little to hold your determination. “And what if I don’t tell you?”

He chuckled, soft and vibrating against the skin of your belly before he rested his chin on your sternum. 

“I’ll still give you whatever you wish. I’m hoping you’re feeling charitable today.”

Your heart trembled at the sight of him smiling at you, teeth digging into his bottom lip before he pressed a gentle kiss to your clothed sternum. The warmth of it bled through the fabric and onto your skin, seeping through your pores to pour over your rapidly beating heart. His words were always so sweet, so freely giving to you no matter what. It was admirable.

But your love for teasing him far outweighed his words.

“You can guess.” 

He barked a sharp chuckle into your sternum before heaving a dramatic sigh in acceptance of his challenge ahead.

“Molasses.” His first guess was accompanied by full lips kissing down your torso, each touch making your skin flinch with the sensation.

“You asked Yu that and the answer is unchanged.”

A noise of frustration against the skin above the hem of your pants, thick and heady with lust and lack of patience. You refused to give in, even though your desire was hard to ignore as his fingers began to undo the button and zipper of your pants, tugging your jeans off your legs in a hurry.

“Tell me,” he whispered against the seam of your panties, temptation sliding on your skin like molten lava. You tried to ignore the command as best as you could, your head slowly clouding with lust as you felt his tongue dip beneath the seam to tease the skin above your clit. You sunk your fingers into his loose blonde locks, tightening the strands amongst your knuckles as he teasingly pulled your panties to the side, your cunt clenching from the cool air against it. “Tell me, baby.”

The feel of his tongue licking a long stripe up your clit pulled a high whine from your throat, your resolve crumbling in seconds. 

“I—” you gasped at the feel of him slipping your clit into his hot mouth, arching your hips further towards him.

Thirty minutes later, with him panting against the sweaty skin of your neck, his cock softening inside of you after making you cum twice before finding his own end, you whispered the ingredient breathily into the air. 

“Honey in the batter? That’s it?” Even though he was winded, you can taste his disappointment with himself. “Yu always made it unnecessarily difficult.” He hummed in reproach before a chuckle wrapped around the edges of the noise as he laughed into your skin. You carded a hand through his sweaty hair, sliding your fingertips against silky strands as your breathing evened out. 

A few minutes later, he pulled away from your neck to look down at you, his gaze filled with adoration. You reached out, brushing his locks away from his forehead, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips. The golden locks flop back into place, shrouding parts of his gaze, and your fingers trailed down the soft skin of his cheek, traced along the gentle upward slope of his nose before outlining his bottom lip. Your ring reflected off the light emanating from the lamp on his desk, flashing you a reminder of your tie to him. His lips curved into a gentle smile before turning to place a kiss into your open palm.

“Thank you for being here with me today,” he spoke softly, his words echoing with sincerity and love that you so often felt. “I love you.”

You reflected the sentiment back to him without hesitation and smiled softly before you felt him slant his lips against your own.

***

“Promise me that you’ll behave,” you demanded of Kento from your perch on the living room floor, sitting across from Ulani as she pressed another button on her interactive toy. The annoying contraption chirped, ‘The cow goes moo!’ for what felt like the millionth time in five minutes, yet you maintained a smile to encourage her. Ulani gleefully responded with ‘moo’ each time, and it made the desire to fling the toy out the window a little less prevalent than before. You were using it as a tool to keep her distracted until your mother would arrive.

It was the first time Ulani would meet her, a prospect you had contemplated and ultimately embraced. Recent months had seen an improvement in your relationship you’re your mother through shared meals, frequent texts, help with wedding planning, and occasional phone calls at your discretion. She had never asked to meet Ulani and it was that small action that made you realize she gave you full control of how much you wanted your mother in your life.

So you would give her one more olive branch today.

You just needed your fiancé to comply as well.

Said fiancé rolled his eyes from behind his coffee mug, feigning nonchalance that was practically second nature to him.

“I’ll have you know that I have no problem with your mother now.” 

A lie. 

“And besides, I have phone calls to make with the caterers and the wedding planner to make sure they are on schedule. So I won’t really be talking to her.”

Kento had taken on the brunt of wedding planning because he liked order and wanted everything to be perfect, and you were fine with that. It allowed you to focus on other aspects, such as invitations, the bridal party, and your wedding dress. You hadn’t done much, just as Kento intended. 

Before you could respond to him, the doorbell rang, signaling your mother’s arrival.

“Hello, Kento,” you heard her greet him, her voice soft and free of malice.

“Naveah,” he responded, short and with an air as if she had already ruined his day.

You rolled your eyes. 

Your mother walked into your home—it wasn’t the first time, but it was the first with your daughter also present. Her coils brushed her shoulders, a light blue dress falling like water over her small frame as she smiled at you. You were getting used to the warmth that filled your chest from the sight, an affection that you had always craved growing up now returning—slowly—but without lingering pain.

Kento excused himself, leaning down to kiss your cheek and pretending to ignore your glare as he walked away and left the three of you alone. The interactive toy chirped, ‘The dog goes bark!’ and Ulani’s loud bark in reply pulled a soft smile onto your mother’s face, her eyes hopeful and yearning. 

“Come meet her.”

She moved quickly around the sofa, unable to hide her excitement, and stopped short as her gaze fell upon your daughter. Ulani stopped playing with the toy, the sight of someone unfamiliar to her making her inch closer to you. She loved people and was always open to meeting them, but like her father, she was observant and could sense your slight tension. 

Your mother sunk down to her knees, giving Ulani her space and interacting with her toy instead. You rubbed your daughter’s back, offering her your own reassurance that you would be okay, and she used your touch as guidance to scoot back to your mother, the toy between them both as Ulani began to play along.

“She’s quite perceptive,” she remarked, a gentle smile on her face as she watched Ulani press a button and mimic the noise.

“She gets it from her father…and…I know Kento probably isn’t the nicest right now—”

“Don’t you worry about Kento,” she interjected, delighting in the giggle that fell from Ulani’s lips. “I deserve it. The love and protection he has for you is so strong that it reminds me of your father.” 

It was the first time she had ever spoken of him—the first time you had ever heard about him. All you knew was that he died before you were born, and your mother was so distraught that she cut off all connection with his side of the family.

“What was he like?” you couldn’t help but ask.

She pulled in a deep breath, her eyebrows pinching together as if in pain before she pressed another button on Ulani’s toy. “Incredibly handsome with a thick Texas accent and curly brown hair. He was very much a ‘fight the power’ kind of man and spent most of his time protesting social events. We met in college…he was…always the loudest one in the room but always focused on me. It was overwhelming at times.” Ulani unsteadily climbed to her feet and wobbled across the living room to her toy box, leaving you both with each other. “I was so focused on school and doing what my father wanted and he taught me how to…live. It astounded me with just how much he loved me. He would say the most beautiful things with little effort…almost as easy as breathing. During that time, I pulled away from my father’s ideals and just…fell in love. My father hated him.” 

You listened quietly, your heart aching at the small comparisons between Kento and your father and feeling some connection even if it was faint. When Ulani made her way back, she was holding another toy, babbling to your mother in broken English that she pretended to follow along with. Ulani didn’t ask as she plopped down in your mother’s lap, her back to her as she began to slide the colored blocks around with a focused gaze.

“Cancer took him away from me. Quick and out of the blue and I couldn’t function for a long time…I couldn’t speak to his family or even look at them without being in so much pain. And so I stopped speaking to them. It was really drastic but when you love someone as much as I did your father, any reminder of is too painful to face. I miss him. Every minute of every day, for the past thirty-one years. So don’t apologize for Kento. I don’t blame him one bit. I hope to earn his trust one day.”

She would, in time she would. Kento was not the type to hold grudges and that disdain would fade the more he saw how accepting you were becoming.

“Do you think you’ll ever reach out to his side of the family?”

She looked up at you from Ulani, shooting a soft smile that was reminiscent of your own when you caught a glimpse of yourself in photographs and Instagram stories with Ome. Her eyes crinkled just a little at the edges, a small indentation to showcase her age even though her skin was as smooth as her teenage years. 

“I did last week actually…I wanted to surprise you. They are flying into Sendai this week and I was wondering if you wanted to—”

“Yes,” you interrupted without hearing the rest. If there was any chance to meet more of your family that was not your mother’s side, you would take it in a heartbeat. “Do you think they would come to the wedding?” The wedding was a month away and while you had room for a few RSVPs, you didn’t even know if they would want to come.

Your mother’s chuckle pulled you from your running thoughts, the questions dying into the chaos of your mind as she shot another smile at you, the motherly affection returning with a bombarding flourish. “I’m sure they would love that.”

Her words were filled with hope, promise crispy along the edges as they floated in and out of your ears. The feeling of your chest swelling with happiness and the burn behind your eyes before your vision began to swim made you bite into your bottom lip to keep yourself under control. You could tear up after she left, give yourself a moment or two to just be happy that things were falling into place. Slowly, but still fitting together.

“Gamma?” Ulani peeped at your mother, looking up at her with her father’s sharp gaze, a flicker of understanding all over her face as she took in your interactions with each other. She was way too inquisitive for such a young age and your chest ached with the essence of her youth flying a little too quickly for comfort.

“Yes, I’m your grandma,” your mother answered, smiling warmly down at her before placing a soft kiss to her chubby cheek. Ulani took the affection without complaint and turned back to her blocks.

“She’s beautiful…and so smart. Just like you at her age and I’m—” she paused, her nostrils flaring fractionally and eyes beginning to mist along the edges. “I’m so proud of you.”

The compliment was unexpected, her fondness once again warming you from the inside out. Almost a year ago, the very thought of her trying to offer you a smile or compliment made your stomach roll with disdain. But she worked hard to earn your affection, to earn your trust. And even though it was not smooth sailing just yet within you, the waters were a little less rocky than before.

So, you swallowed the warmth that your mother offered you, let it simmer in your belly for as long as possible, and gave her a small smile of gratitude in return, hopefully as a sign of smoother waters to come.

***

Ulani was the perfect flower girl. The sight of her in a sage green tulle dress, embroidered with flowers along the fabric, made her the most beautiful girl in the large Nakameguro garden where the wedding was being held. Though she was unsteady on her feet, she was determined to fulfill her duty on her own. Using her father as guidance, she dug her chubby hands into the small basket on her arm and haphazardly threw pink and deep red petals along the aisle as she walked closer to Kento. When she made it to her father’s feet at the end of the aisle, she gazed up at him, whispering a happy ‘Hi Dadda,’ up at him before receiving a fat kiss on her cheek in praise. 

“Five bucks says that he will cry.” Rory’s voice from next to you elicited a sharp but hushed giggle from your lips. 

Both of you had been fairly quiet since the music started; Rory was providing moral support for your fraying nerves by taking your late father’s place to walk you down the aisle. His twists were redone and looked brand new, the ends tied off with rubber bands and his hairline freshly cut, they hung down his shoulders and brushed the black fabric of his tux. 

“He won’t cry just yet,” you offered, wrapping your lace-covered arm around his tux-covered one as you felt the moment you would have to make your entrance drawing closer. “Fifty bucks says he will tear up.”

Rory shook softly with laughter, patting the top of your arm linked with his. “Deal.” Familiar eyes took you in, the same eyes you had watched and laughed at and cried with for as long as you could remember. The same ones that took you to your first ceramics class and taught you how to love the world. “You look beautiful.”

You elbowed him in a well-known reply, feeling your cheeks heating quickly as your nerves began to unravel at the ends. 

You had put a lot of work into your dress, which swung down to the ground in rich thin white layers. It was adorned with 3D lace and embroidered faintly with white flowers and sheer fabric that hugged your curves, extending throughout the train that trailed behind you. The sweetheart neckline and off-shoulder sleeves were perfect touches to showcase your creamy brown skin. Your jewelry was simple; a diamond necklace that Kento had gifted you last year, and small diamond studs in your ears. Your loose curls hung down your back in dark tendrils, adorned with small cherry blossoms from the past Sakura season and partially covered with a sheer mantilla veil that fell to the floor along with your train. 

You felt beautiful.

This was like any other day: waking up and going to sleep next to him, spending every moment with him. Nothing had changed. But to showcase your love so publicly…that was what made you nervous. You and Kento treasured your vulnerability with each other and cherished the privacy of it. Even though your friends and family were well-versed in your relationship, it was still a part of you that was sacred. 

So when the warm October air brushed your skin as you walked down the aisle with Rory, your heart raced too fast for you to control. Your blood pulsed through your veins, hot and burning from the inside out. Chiyo and Santo’s smiles helped quell the anxiety just a little, and seeing your father’s side of the family made the next breath you took a little easier to fill into your lungs. Ulani’s presence certainly helped as well; for once, she sat in Gojo’s arms without squirming, hugging his neck tightly, and beaming a toothy smile at you.

“What will you do if I leave you at the altar because I’m nervous?” you asked playfully, rolling to straddle his lap. Kento’s large, warm hands slid up the naked skin of your thighs, squeezing in soft reassurance before pulling your attention to him.

“You won’t. Just keep your eyes on me. It’s just like any other day when the rest of the world hardly matters and it’s just you, me, and Ulani.”

“And what if I still decide to leave? What if I don’t want to get married in front of everyone?”

A small huff of laughter escaped his nose, his bare chest shaking from the effort. “Then I’ll follow you and we’ll get married wherever you want.”

“Me and you?”

“Me and you, my love.”

The memory seemed to fill your lungs with an unexpected strength, and as you exhaled deeply, your gaze moved from your daughter to Kento, who was just a few steps away from her. 

And god was he a sight to behold.

He wore the nicest black tux you had ever seen, with a white undershirt adorned with crisp black buttons and an even nicer black tie. His cufflinks, inherited from his father, flickered from the low sunlight and black pants hugged him perfectly. Even though his eyes were without his typical glasses, his blonde locks were parted and gelled in their signature style, free from his forehead to display every single emotion on his face. So unbelievably handsome and soon, he would be yours completely in every sense. 

You had to suppress every possible joke in your head when Rory finally handed you off and your hands brushed against Kento’s warmth. The sensation instantly calmed you, grounded you to the floor as you felt your nerves finally begin to cool down and settle.  

“Hey you,” you playfully teased, biting your bottom lip as you watched Kento’s beautiful burnt umber eyes well up with tears.

“I…” he tried to speak, but stopped abruptly, swallowing what seemed to be the hardest lump in his throat. Full lips parted, desperately trying to say something, anything, to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered, blinking rapidly to get himself under control. “Truly beautiful.”

You gave his hands a gentle squeeze, hoping that the touch would be enough to convey that you were there in front of him.

“I’m riding on fifty dollars if you can hold it together, so no crying.”

Dark blonde eyebrows furrowed intensely as if in disbelief, but then a sharp laugh bubbled from his throat, his tight grip on your hands pulling you closer to him.

Jin stood between you both as he officiated and Gojo’s hands shook only mildly when he handed the rings to you and Kento. You both decided not to have vows. You knew that Kento could only be so vulnerable in front of others, and you hated to talk in front of crowds anyway. So it was the perfect choice for you both. 

Yuji spent the entire time in tears, and you weren’t sure if it was because he was happy for you and his sensei or because he had missed a chance with you. Your mother smiled the most you had ever seen from her, and you found that the sight wasn’t unwelcome this time. 

When the rings slid back onto your fingers, the cool metal against your skin felt like an electric current, bringing you back to life, back to the present, back to the moment of Kento’s beautiful eyes on your linked hands before they slid behind your neck to pull you close for a kiss that sealed your union with each other. 

You should have been more insistent on encouraging him to dance more. It was truly a pity, given his obvious talent. He murmured about Gojo’s inability to tear his gaze from Ome as he effortlessly lead you across the polished floor set up in the garden. Despite his skill, he declined to entertain anything more out of character. Instead, he tenderly drew his mother into his embrace, guiding her fluidly across the dance floor, offering her a gentle smile as she conversed with him amongst the music.

Everyone wanted to dance with you, and for almost an hour, you rotated from Rory to your newly acquainted uncles and cousins on your father’s side, to Yuji and the rest of your friends. You were deliriously happy as they spun you around the dance floor, hair loose and cherry blossoms fluttering from the strands with every movement of air around you. 

“What’s the verdict?” you asked Kento later after you both had cut the cake. There was still a smear of the dessert on your cheek from when he playfully smeared it on your face earlier. To you, it tasted delicious; an elderflower-soaked lemon cake with blackberry jam and vanilla buttercream icing. It was your second piece in less than fifteen minutes.

Kento hummed softly, taking another bite and pursing his lips. He was the perfect picture of relaxed. His tie was undone, and two black buttons had been unfastened. His blonde hair was free from its gelled hold and fell in heavy strands over his forehead. There was a rosy tint to his cheeks from the glass of expensive Hibiki whiskey on the table in front of him, and a smile lingered at the corners of his lips that had been there since he said, ‘I do’.

“It seems I’ll have to steal the recipe,” he said with a coy grin, not overly expressing his appreciation for something he had grumbled about for months. “The rest of the food is delicious. I did well.” 

You were in the middle of rolling your eyes when you heard Gojo from across the dance floor.

“I swear, they can speak for my character.” You watched him guide Ome’s mother toward you and Kento’s table. 

Ome’s mother radiated beauty just like her daughter. She stood with a petite stature, and her curves accentuated the elegant fit of her Iro and Buba. The attire’s rich lavender lace cascaded to the floor, highlighting the warm undertones of her deep chocolate skin under the ambient light from the reception’s outdoor lamps dancing in the evening October breeze. Her Gele was a testament to the expert craftsmanship of her Nigerian culture; while it seemed artificial, you knew the painstaking process of hand pressing every layer to make the headpiece commonly worn for Nigerian formal events.

Adorned in a sharp Amani suit and signature circular sunglasses, Gojo exuded an air of affluence. His unique snow-white hair, naturally tinted a soft shade of purple at the roots, framed his striking eyes as they pierced the darkness behind his shades. Eyes always followed him when he walked into a room and his confidence never wavered for as long as you knew him. But you could see the unease in his features when he paused before you and Kento. 

When her eyes met you both, Ome’s mother momentarily overlooked Gojo and greeted each of you with a kiss on the cheek, giving a notably lingered one on Kento’s. Despite only meeting him twice in person, her fondness for him was evident and her husband was too oblivious to notice. Kento would never admit it, but you knew he liked her attention. She fed him and sent him recipes any chance she could get.

“Kento, my darling your friend tells me that his character is good enough for my daughter. I know you will not lie to me.” She knew not to ask you, you were too kind and like her daughter, she needed the truth no matter how awful it would be.

Gojo’s face bloomed a vivid shade of red, the most intense you had ever witnessed, as he nervously watched Kento take a long swig of his Hibiki and gently caressed the fabric upon your thigh before letting out a long sigh. 

“He’s loud,” Gojo sputtered, a tight and foreign sound from unnaturally glossy lips, snow-white eyebrows shooting up to his hairline as he opened his mouth ready to defend himself. You couldn’t help the snort into your wine glass. “He’s annoying and petulant like a child.”

“Nanamin!”

“But he’s a good man,” Kento finished, rolling his eyes at Gojo’s complaining voice. “Out of all the women Gojo has been with, Omelia is the only one who has made him grow up and show her how much of a man he can be. As loathed as I am to say it, he’s worth it.”

Ome’s mother beamed down at Kento, pressing yet another kiss to his cheek before turning her scrutiny to Gojo. He jumped, shoulders stiff and back ramrod straight as she circled him slowly like a vulture would to dying prey. You had never seen him so fearful—well to this degree—any other type of fear was usually because Ome was in his presence.

“You’re tall,” Ome’s mother began, speaking as if logging the details for future study. Her accent was beautiful, heavy but delicate in the way she spoke, giving her a poised air and a level of fear, for whoever crossed her path. “A pretty face but you’re nothing but skin and bones, you need to eat more.”

“Yes ma’am!” Gojo conceded, hands at his sides like a soldier recalling orders for battle, his face flaming.

The chuckles emanating from Kento’s body slowly grew louder, much to your own amusement.

Ome’s mother narrowed her eyes, inspecting his expensive dress shoes, the fit of his pants, the hygiene of his hands and nails. “My Omelia is not a lazy woman and she won’t tolerate disrespect. And while she makes her own living, I want her to be taken care of. Can you do that?”

“Y-yes,” he stammered.

She stopped, unimpressed, and sharpened her gaze. You’ve been on the end of that look before and you couldn’t help the shudder that traveled up your spine. “Yes what?”

“Yes ma’am!” You watched the Adam’s apple in Gojo’s skinny neck bob as he tried to swallow. 

Kento laughed harder, taking another swig of his whiskey and truly enjoying the display. 

“Mama, leave him alone,” you eventually chided, though you couldn’t suppress your own laughter. She relented with a roll of her eyes, granting Gojo a final, evaluating glance before clicking her teeth.

“How about you get me a drink then?”

It was more of a command than a suggestion, and thankfully Gojo had been around Ome long enough to decipher the true meaning behind words when spoken from her to catch on. He offered his arm to her, and gave a nervous smile before she conceded and let him pull her away.

Gojo threw a seething glare back at Kento and your husband tilted his head back and guffawed. You felt like you were in the Twilight Zone, to see him so carefree, so blissfully happy and laughing amongst his family and friends.

When you glanced over at Kento, his wide smile and high cheekbones emphasized his beauty, and as he stroked your thigh, his gaze met yours before he leaned down to press a soft kiss to your lips. 

“How much longer?” You could practically taste the impatience in his voice as it wafted down to ghost over your face, and when he nipped your bottom lip, it told you all you needed to know about his current state of self-restraint. 

You had changed from your wedding gown hours ago and you didn’t miss the way his eyes took in every inch of your halter top long lace dress that split up one side for him to slide his hand against your shea butter-scented brown skin. Despite it being October, it was incredibly warm, but the hairs on the back of your neck stood up straight when you watched his gaze darken just a little more than what was decent for the public eye.

“I’m sure not long now,” you offered in reassurance, though your self-control wavered when he traced his lips along your ear. The locks of your curls kissed the skin of your temple, fluttering in the light current from his breath. 

What needed to take place during a reception again? You cut the cake, speeches were said, dances were made, and food was served. It was just merriment at this point until it was time to send off the couple. And you needed it to get here and fast. 

“I like this dress,” he whispered, the timbre of his voice caressing the fabric of your dress before sliding up your legs to the pulsing heat between your legs.

Composing yourself, you took a sip of wine, focusing on the sweet taste sliding down your throat and trying your best to maintain an air of decorum despite the temptation whispering in your ears. No one was paying attention; it was all fleeting glances at the happy couple as they all danced and drank and ate with each other. But you knew if you gave Kento an avenue to get in your panties, he might not be a gentleman.

“I’m sure the reward will be worth it later tonight.” Your words lingered in the air, laden with innuendo, thick with lust and expectation. The tension was palpable and Kento sucked a hiss through clenched teeth before downing the rest of his Hibiki in one fluid motion, his leg beginning to bounce in place.

The details of the farewell celebration were a blur—you recalled sparklers and choruses of ‘good luck’ and ‘goodbye’, but those memories quickly faded as you and Kento settled into the backseat of the large SUV that would take you to your hotel in downtown Tokyo. 

Before you could reach for the seatbelt, he was on you. He pulled you into his lap and both of your legs were straddling his waist before you gasped at the feel of hot hands sliding up the skin of your thighs, digging and insistent as if you would disappear if he blinked. 

“Ken,” you whispered, a feeble attempt at a warning, even as his lips found your neck and your eyes rolled with the weakening of your resolve. “K-ken the driver!”

“Hopefully he has earplugs.” 

Dismissive of concern and to the point, his words sent a shiver down your spine, an involuntary clench of your cunt when his teeth grazed the delicate skin of your collarbone. Each caress of his tongue fought to unleash the moan trapped in your throat, rattling and begging to be let free. 

“He can turn on the radio, open the windows, sing as loud as he wants. I don’t care. I need you, now.”

His tongue traced the seam of your halter top dress, pressing firmly against the soft swell of your breasts. He normally had some level of restraint when it concerned his libido around others, but it must be the high of the wedding, the delicious thought of having a wife that had him hard and throbbing against the thin fabric of your panties. His grip tightened on the meat on your hips, and he rolled you hard and long against him in a way that made a honeyed gasp slide from his lips.

But you had to stop him because the minute he slid inside of you, you would be a wanton and moaning mess and the driver might need to quit out of sheer embarrassment. 

The penthouse suite was only a short stop of reprieve before your flight tomorrow afternoon. Your bags were already sitting against the floor-to-ceiling glass windows and the floor was decorated in an array of red flower petals that you and Kento both glared at before meeting each other’s eyes and laughing.

“So ridiculous,” he chuckled, kicking his expensive shoes against a petal and watching it slide across the hardwood floor. He approached you with gentler steps, a little more timid now, and took your hands in his. 

“Champagne?” he offered, voice low and tempting and you nodded in response against the way your belly simmered with awakening desire.

Ome did a good job on the lingerie. The orange hue was a compliment to your brown skin—a color that Kento had previously voiced loving on you—and it accentuated your curves, curves that Kento never tired of admiring and you knew would be worshipped without pause tonight.

You were more comfortable in your skin now, the faint stretch marks and roll or two were cherished tokens of motherhood and love, embodying a journey that was far deeper than aesthetic perfection. 

You would definitely have to thank Ome. Because the way he stopped speaking into the receiver of the phone when you emerged from the bathroom made you hold in a snort. He had seen you in lingerie before, but from the look on his face, you cataloged the designer in your head to buy more of their outfits later. His eyes widened fractionally, grip on the phone slackening as he took you in, unabashed in his admiration as he spoke calmly into the phone. 

“Make that two bottles of champagne actually. Just leave them at the door, no need to knock.”

You giggled as you watched him hang up the phone and slip off his shoes, eyes not once leaving the slow outline of your form before he made his way to you. 

“Is this my reward?” His fingers lightly traced the lace adorning your breasts, his touch igniting a flame in your belly that you were all too familiar with. “It’s exquisite but I’m afraid it won’t last long on you.”

“A shame,” you purred, guiding him to recline on the expansive bed with a playful nudge. He shot you a devilish smirk, and the sight made you lightheaded. His carefree demeanor was palpable, a side of him so unguarded and joyous. You wouldn’t be sleeping at all tonight.

“Try to make it last, it was expensive.”

He hummed noncommittally in response as you climb on top of him, his cock flagging instantly from the feel of you hot against him. Even through the thick fabric of his tailored pants, he throbbed hot and heavy, ready for you in almost an instant. 

A harsh slap to your ass made you jump, eliciting a whimper from your throat, your body instinctively grinding against his clothed cock in a Pavlovian response.

“I’ll buy you more,” he promised, deep brown eyes now paper-thin rings as he snapped a strap of your lingerie against your thigh, marveling at the way you twitched, his lust permeating the room. 

The champagne bottles remained forgotten at the door, warming in the night and untouched for the rest of the night.

***

It was always a far away dream.

Kuantan, Malaysia was just an island that he had always yearned to visit when he was younger. Of all the places, it was there that he saw himself the most serene and at peace. He would retire at the age of thirty-five with more than enough in his bank account to sustain him, his children, and his children’s children, bring a wife—perhaps accompanied by a child or two—to the sandy shores, and immerse himself in good food and an endless array of books he had yet to finish.

He had planned for a nice honeymoon in Okinawa with you, imagining a blissful week of sunbathing, indulging in exquisite cuisine, and having as much sex with you as both your bodies could muster.

But like the enigma you were, you had booked everything in a farce and the plane you both boarded was bound for Kuantan. Even when he tried to pry more information from you, you deftly diverted his attention, presenting him with an itinerary adorned with your infectious enthusiasm, charming away any resistance that he had.

It was always a far away dream.

But it was a reality now with you—his wife—sleeping in his arms, your legs entwined with his upon the silken sheets of a spacious king bed in a bungalow that was your abode for the next few days.

He left the windows open again, inviting the soothing symphony of waves, the distinctive aroma of salt and sand, and the hypnotic sight of the ocean’s smooth horizon. It all welcomed his senses as he pulled you closer to him. White sheer curtains billowed in the beachy breeze, and with each tuft of wind that filtered into the bungalow you both shared, it brought a level of peace that he hadn’t anticipated arriving so soon in his life. 

Your body wash was different this time—lavender, not your usual lilac—but still a compliment to your shea butter-kissed skin. Your cheek rested on his bicep, a hint of drool on his skin that he would refuse to let you in on unless he was feeling particularly teasing. Your bonnet was askew on your head, the hint of curls poking from the side by your ear. There was a fading bruise on your neck, faint and purpling from his teeth a few nights ago. You would probably glare at him for having to put concealer on it as you hated the way it stuck to your skin in the heat. 

He didn’t mind being scolded for it. Not by you, anyway.

Put a ring on Nanami Kento’s finger and whisk him away to Kuantan, Malaysia, and watch as all semblance of decorum evaporates.

“Stop staring at me,” you mumbled, half-awake yet aware of his gaze as you opened the eye not pressed to his bicep to glare impishly up at him. 

The sound of your voice made his heart jump, it always did, but recently he had felt loose and raw and open, a perfect view for you to touch the beating organ in his chest with your delicate hands. 

“You were in a deep sleep seconds ago, how did you know I was staring?” he inquired.

“Intuition—you love me too much to leave me alone even in sleep.”

He couldn’t argue with that.

As you languidly rolled onto your back, he hovered above, studying your features. The subtle impression of sleep creased your cheek, the corner of your lip was wet with drool, and your eyes squinted slightly, adjusting to the morning light. A normal sight of a sleeping woman, but to him it was the most beautiful canvas he had ever seen. Raw and unfiltered, a picture he had seen so many mornings and nights before, but still felt as if it was the very first time. Even seconds after waking up, you were the epitome of beauty.

His wife. 

You pulled off your bonnet, and the braids he had confidently mastered rested on the silk pillowcase beneath your head as you relaxed back into the sheets. Your fingertips lightly grazed his cheekbone, beckoning his attention.

“What would you like to do today?” You asked and watched with a lifted brow as he hummed and leaned to press his lips to the exposed slope of your shoulder. “Or is the agenda just us being in the bed?” 

A nip to the soft skin of your neck made you gasp, and his tongue smoothed over it to soothe the slight sting.

“Breakfast first,” he mused, a lighthearted tilt to his tone as his lips trailed hot down the column of your neck. 

Your t-shirt was pushed up in less than a second, exposing every inch of naked skin that he dutifully pressed his lips to. The saltiness of your skin was faint and when he circled a nipple and brought it to his mouth, there was a hint of strawberries that he had eaten off your body the night before. 

The gasp that left your lips was heavenly, short and clipped, always asking him for more as he licked and bit the pertness of your peaks before sliding his affection down your torso.

“Then…then let’s go eat,” you offered, even though it fell on deaf ears. You knew this. And part of you was teasing him, trying to keep up with the façade more than anything as your eyes watched him kiss a worshipping line down the planes of your stomach.

He cataloged the way your throat bobbed and the sound of a gasp catching in your throat when he finally dipped a dripping tongue over the hood of your clit. Your legs parted for him instantly, beckoning him to settle in between as you bunched your hands into the silk pillow beneath your head. 

“T-there’s a nice restaurant up the beach that you might like.” 

He laughed at your attempt to distract, low and dark in a way that made your cunt quiver in anticipation. He smiled against your already dripping cunt and slid his tongue deep within you to pull a tight moan from your lips that made him chuckle again. 

The meat of your thighs was covered by the softest skin he had ever felt, moisturized religiously and free of scars, and he dug his fingertips deep until it pillowed between his fingers and opened you more for him. 

He pulled away to press a hot kiss to your clit and reveled in the way you jumped, your stomach and chest heaving with increased breaths.

“Different kind of breakfast, my love. I thought you would have caught on.”

He was back on you before you could say anything smart, and he watched gleefully as you sunk into the silky sheets and twisted the fabric in your hands. He had memorized every inch of you, created his very own manual for how to take you apart, and used that guide dutifully with the way he licked your clit in light and solid strokes that made you wetter in the warmth of his mouth, sucking the glistening bud between his lips when he was feeling more glutinous. 

“Kento, please.”

Your call for him was a sweet melody to his ears, and he complied with your desires using two, then three fingers inside of you, pumping fluidly. He was delirious with you, foggy-headed as he reveled in the sound of your escalating cries and pleas, your body arching and yearning for more as his skilled fingers brushed that spongy spot on the roof of your walls. 

It gave him the reaction he desperately loved to see, a sharp hiccup from your lungs and a loud moan into the air before you clamped down on his fingers and gushed over the digits. Captivating, and he dipped down to taste your essence around his fingers that pumped languidly between your legs.

He could hardly calm down from his own excitement because not even a minute later you were asking for more, tugging his boxers down with your feet in practiced impatience. Soon he was naked and hovering over you, tilting full lips against yours that were still wet with your slick.

“Don’t deny your wife,” you whispered into the small space between both your lips and his as you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer with a strength that always surprised him when you were horny. The tip of him leaked precum, parting your folds in a mischievous ask that made you whine when he refused to indulge you. 

“How many will you give me?” he questioned, his voice lower and seductive, as he slowly entered you, relishing in the sensation of your warmth enveloping him. The column of your neck was bare for him when you arched your back at the feeling of him inside you, delicious brown skin free of blemish but already sprinkled with a light sheen of sweat. “Hmm?”

“I don’t—” you swallowed hard against a dry throat, your fingers digging hard into the skin of his back as he started a steady pace. “I don’t know. You already made me cum once I can’t—one more.”

“One more?” he punctuated his teasing question with a rolling thrust that made your cunt squeeze him like a vice. He clenched his teeth through it and savored the burning pleasure at the base of his spine with every thrust of himself into your welcoming heat. You were wanton, uninhibited, and lost in the moment with him, digging your manicured nails into his skin and moaning harshly into the air without any care of locals outside the window who might be listening. 

He caught a flash of your ring, the diamond that he made sure was cut meticulously before a cent was handed over, and his stomach quivered as you slid your hand between your bodies to brush against your clit. But he stopped you, catching your wrist and his thrusts came to a stop, the action making you whine in frustration.

“If I only get one orgasm from you, then I’m going to make it last,” he murmured against your lips, a soft smile twitching on the edges at the sight of your pout. A gentle crease between elegant brows and subtle pursing of your lips made his heart give a warming leap in his chest. 

 “You know since you’ve gotten married, you’ve become awfully stingy,” you grumbled up at him.

A carefree chuckle vibrated from his chest as he leaned down to kiss you again, stealing the sweet flavor of strawberries from your lips. 

“I suppose I have,” he admitted playfully. “How can I make it up to you?” With a deliberate roll of his hips, the skin of his abs brushing against your clit, you dug your nails harder into his skin. “Tell me?”

He would do anything for you—set the world ablaze, give up everything, get down on his knees and ask for your hand over and over again if it meant you would smile at him for a second longer. He knew that you would never make him stoop to such levels, would never ask him something that would hurt him. But the hold you had on his mind, on his body, on his heart was so tight and gripping that if you ever let go he was sure he would fall apart. And only you knew how to seamlessly put him back together. 

“Fuck me,” you finally demanded of him, voice thick with desire and trembling with a barely suppressed whimper. And because he could never deny you, he gave to you fully. 

He worshipped every inch of the skin of your neck, drank the sweat on your collarbone, and let his tongue press against your skin to vibrate with each moan that passed from your lips. Every stroke that he gave made your eyes clench tightly from a source of pleasure that started from a simmer and roiled into a boil that seemed to radiate from your skin.

One of your braids had come loose, your curls sprawling across the silk pillowcase as the force of his thrusts get harder and faster. Traces of sleep still etched on your cheek, and your lips parted in a delicate dance with each sound that escaped them. The very mention of his name stirred a fierce primal instinct within him, something he might have felt ashamed of, if it hadn’t fueled a ferocious intensity in his movements, each driving into and fighting against the increased tightness of your cunt around him. 

“Kento,” you managed to voice, delirious with passion, your gaze heavy-lidded.

“Again,” he urged into the air that puffed from your lips. “Say it again.”

“Kento.”

He rewarded you by intensifying his pace, harsh and thorough thrusts that slapped against your clit over and over so you could moan and hiccup in his mouth.

You were wrong. Marriage hadn’t made him stingy when it came to you. 

He had always been this way. Since the moment you dropped your walls for him to come closer, he had taken every morsel of affection, desiring you solely for himself, distinctly irresistible. You were too unique to be shared with anyone else, he wouldn’t allow it. You were his to hold, his to kiss, his to love until the last breath left his lungs many, many years from now. And he hoped that if there was some form of an afterlife for him, he would find his way to you and take love from you some more.

So until that day came, he would be stingy every chance that he could get.

Your legs wrapped tighter around waist and pulled him further inside of you, and the feel of you impossibly hotter around him made the corners of his vision go white. Without a sleeping daughter down the hall, you and Kento had been going at it whenever you could and on whatever surface that was durable. He went to sleep every night spent and satiated. 

But now he was paying for it. Because the way you started to flutter around his cock made his balls draw tight and his stomach clench in a sweltering pleasure that rose to the surface of his ocean of control unexpectantly. There was an ache in his thighs, a burn in his lower belly, a trickle of sweat that he could feel slide down the crevice of his spine and he was dangerously close to losing it all.

“Say it again,” he commanded again, voice tight with restraint.

“Kento. Kento. Kento, please—I can’t.” You were taut, your voice thin with each breath and your fingers were daggers in the skin of his back. He hissed against the pain, took it for his own and harnessed it into a fuel of pleasure that made his fingers dig into the silk on each side of your head.

“Tell me what you want,” his voice saccharine against your lips, tender against the backdrop of fervent need.

“I wanna cum,” you confessed, practically pleading with the look in your eyes. “Please—” your words choked off when he reached between you both to brush his thumb against your throbbing clit. The conviction in your eyes was steely, hardened, and overwhelming as he stroked your bundle of nerves with a precision that pulled a melody of ecstasy from your lips. 

It was a means to a blissful end, and he savored every step that led to that breathtaking finish. Your furrowed eyebrows, halted breaths, quivering stomach and thighs, deepening grip on his back, and the exquisite tightening of your core all fought with the ‘fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!’ that escaped your lips before that cord in you snapped with a deep thrust of his cock. 

The scene unfolded like a masterpiece before him, a sight so mesmerizing that it became his source for the hot pleasure at the base of his spine that finally exploded an ecstatic sensation through his body, pooling along the contours of his pelvis as he spilled inside of you. His eyes rolled in the back of his head, arms tight and a groan sliding out of his lips as he rode his high and gingerly laid on top of you.

Your fingers weaved through his hair, both of you catching your breath as you gazed out the open window, admiring the rising sun and the rhythmic dance of the waves. In the distance, the call of an elusive bird echoed, one you had been eager to spot since arriving. Today might be the day you finally laid eyes on it. 

A flutter of sensation washed over you as his lips pressed a soft kiss to the skin of your stomach. Then, propped on an elbow, he rested his chin in his palm, watching you with a newfound attentiveness. You met his gaze, taking in the mahogany depths of his eyes as they settled back from the intensity of moments ago. You took in the hair along his hairline that was dark with sweat. That tired disposition he always held was no longer there, the faint lines beneath his eyes gone. It occurred to you in that moment that it had been an eternity since he looked tired, and you couldn’t help but wonder if the joy that both you and Ulani had brought into his life had fulfilled a long-sought purpose. You hoped so.

“Does it bother you that we chose not to do vows?” he asked unexpectantly.

Shaking your head, you replied,  “Both of us have always been a little shy when expressing our love around others anyway. And I know that you will only show your vulnerability to so few, so it seemed like a great compromise for both of us. Besides, I don’t need to hear out loud what you will do for me. I know what you will do for me. You do it every day.”

He responded with a noncommittal hum, fingers twirling a lock of your hair. His contemplative silence allowed you to savor his relaxed yet serious demeanor. He was a stoic man, but he was your stoic man who smiled only at you, teased and played freely when you were near, showed his teeth when something was particularly funny, and snored every single night.

“I’m glad you came to the summit that week,” he finally spoke, and even though his eyes were still on the way his fingers twirled your curls, you kept your gaze on his. “I’m glad that it was you who took my angry words and gave them right back to me. I’m glad it was you who challenged me and made me realize that the mundanity of everyday living isn’t something that has to be adhered to…that I could chase a dream even though it terrified me.”

He threw you a lift of a dark blonde brow, enticing in his own way even though you could see traces of anxiety along the features on his face.

“I’m glad that even though we both were so annoyed with each other, we still shared that night together. I’m glad that I was smart enough to fight for you even though I had hurt you so much. I’m glad that you were forgiving enough to let me in. I’m glad that you allowed me to see a side of you that others haven’t. You’ve shown me how wonderful of a woman you are, and I could never fathom being with anyone else.” 

A finger caressed the skin of your bottom lip, outlining the plumpness of your flesh. 

“You’ve given me a beautiful daughter, a strength with a level of grief that I could not have handled alone, a first step with decisions in my life that I can never seem to make without you. You make me so happy. When you tease me, the way you grab your stomach when something is really funny or the fact that you will not use any hot sauce unless it’s Red Hot.” You didn’t expect to chuckle, and the sound caught you by surprise and made him smile softly before he continued. “…The way you love your family and your friends, the dedication you put into your work as a ceramic artist… it’s overwhelming how happy I am to be in your life.” 

The hand in your hair grabbed your fingers of one hand and brought them up to his lips. He pressed a kiss to the skin of your knuckles, tender and slightly chapped. Your throat was tight since he first started speaking and the stinging behind your eyes refused to go away with every blink you made. You hated how good he was at this. It made no sense to be this loving.

“You are everything to me, even when we fight and I’ve been banished to the couch, or on the days where we just can’t seem to get anything right. And I promise to love you until the very end of my days. I’ll find you in this lifetime and the next. I’ll never part from you. You have my heart, my body, my mind, and my soul. All that I am, now and forever, will always be yours.”

You didn’t bother to wipe away the tears that fell from the sides of your eyes and down your cheeks. They would just keep falling anyway. You were used to hearing such beautiful words from him, but it was his informal vow that overwhelmed you—a pledge of love that you realized was more profound than any formal promise in front of his friends and family.

And that made you cry a little harder.

His eyebrows furrowed in concern before he wiped the tears from your cheeks. “My love, what’s wrong? What did I say?”

You hiccupped, not bothering to be ashamed anymore now that you were sobbing uncontrollably. 

“We weren’t going to do vows so I didn’t even—yours sound great! Like something stitched on a pillow and I’m sure you spent weeks drafting it, damn you! I—the only thing I have to offer is an ‘I love you’. I feel stupid. Be a deadbeat for once! Stop being so fucking perfect all the time. I can’t take it.”

You could feel him stiffen above you and it gave you time to control yourself and wipe at your leaking eyes before the bed began to shake. The feeling was odd, until you realized where it was coming from. 

Kento hovered above you, laughing with a deep smile on his face. His teeth were white and straight, and you noticed one of his canines had a small chip on the side. His blonde hair cascaded over his forehead like strands of autumn wheat, and the melody of his laughter tickled your ears, an angelic sound so seldom heard—a cherished rarity, likely witnessed only by his mother when he was young. But here you were, privy to this intimate display, eliciting it from him effortlessly.

Your heart slammed against your ribcage as his lips, still trembling with laughter, grazed your nose.

“My love,” he whispered, a hint of earnest longing in his voice. “an ‘I love you’ is the only thing I will ever want to hear. As long as you allow me to love you, I will be a happy man.”

You could deal with that and although you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his infectious grin, you encircled his neck with your arms. “So…how many times a day do you expect an ‘I love you’?”

His reply came in the form of a kiss, and with it, you sensed a newfound fervor within him with the way he stiffened inside of you. 

“Once in the morning and before bed. On the days you wear your hair down. When I make the brownies you love so much. Wh—”

“That’s an awful lot and I have things to do,” you interrupted, feigning exasperation. “You don’t think that’s a little too much?”

Laughter broke free from him once more, rippling against your lips as his hands tenderly glided down your body, wrapping your legs around his waist again and drawing you closer. Faint embers of pleasure licked back to life with each press of his lips against yours and before he could ask for entrance into your mouth, he pulled away to look down at you with a knowing expression.

“You shouldn’t say things that do not make sense.”

You were caught off guard by the familiarity of his words, which sent your heart racing, pounding against your sternum as you took him in. 

The morning sun casted its golden rays upon the bed, illuminating the skin of Kento’s shoulders and torso. The serene rhythm of the waves, crashing against the rocks bordering your bungalow on the sandy beaches of Kuantan, filled the air. The burnt umber of Kento’s eyes were heavy as they studied you, observant and absorbing, calculating without meaning to. 

Vaguely you thought of Ulani and how she shared the same gaze as her father. Observing of the world around her with a bright smile like yours and curls that bounced on her shoulders when she laughed.

The gentle reminder of the very soul that brought you and Kento together made your eyes mist with tears once more before you finally opened your mouth to speak.

“Am I allowed my first one of the day?” You asked, your voice trembling with emotion, unable to mask the sentiment that swelled within you. “I love you.”

It was true every time it left your lips, and just as strong as the time before. And this time it made you pull in a deep breath so you could ground yourself without bursting into tears. The feel of his skin against yours was almost too much, you were overstimulated by the faint smell of his travel-size eucalyptus shampoo in his hair, the hint of woodsy cologne on the side of his neck, and the sight of him smiling softly down at you. You couldn’t take it.

But you need more. You would always need more until there was nothing left.

“Once more, with feeling this time,” he teased.

You gaped up at him, completely surprised by his teasing demeanor before you giggled without control and smacked his chest. “Stop teasing! I meant that.”

“I’m not convinced,” his voice danced with a sing-songy edge and you were fumbling to stay in control of the situation with just how happy and playful he was.

 “I love you,” you tried again.

“Too flat.”

“I love you,” again even though you were giggling into his cheek and biting the skin of his smile.

“Too casual, do be serious, my love.” He smacked the skin of your ass in a manner that drew a blend of shock and laughter from your lips. “Mrs. Nanami, you’ll definitely have to practice more.” The sound of your new last name was a feeling that you had only heard a few times so far, but you couldn’t see yourself getting used to it anytime soon. The smile formed of its own volition, bending the edges of your mouth.  “Whenever you want to say it, I will always listen. But in the meantime, just let me love you. If you’ll allow it.”

Even at your most vulnerable, when you had bared your soul to him, he still humbly offered you the universe, seeking affirmation to make sure it was what you wanted.

“I’ll allow it,” you whispered. 

When he closed the distance between you both to mold his lips to yours for what felt like the millionth time that morning, you pulled him to you so that he could never let go. Maybe when his hips stopped rolling against yours and maybe after another orgasm you both could finally peel yourselves out of bed and leave the bungalow. Kento had a book to catch up on and you wanted to collect some seashells for Ulani.

But for now, it was just you both and the symphony of the waves, the salty air perfuming your sanctuary as he kissed every inch of your skin, soaking your pores with adoration and love that at times was too much for you to breathe through. 

As his lips trailed the curve of your collarbone, sunlight danced on the gleaming surface of your ring tangled in his hair—a tangible symbol of your shared journey, the challenges you both faced and the resounding fact that he still chose you. And when he coaxed your attention back to him with a bite on your bottom lip and another pearly white smile, you realized that it was always going to be you.

It had to be you.

He’d be a fool to settle for anything less.

[vigilvntes]

Vigilante Hotline - Adrian Chase x Reader

A/N: hi. my brain works in mysterious ways and i had this idea earlier on when i responded to an ask and now here we are, three hours later with a silly little vigilante fic. it's literally just text interactions, vig's texts are the ones that end with 🧜‍♂️ (obviously). but yeah. i had a lot of fun writing this, and i'll be SO happy to write more if y'all want it?? idk. anyway enjoy i guess!

Warnings: mentions of groping/non-consensual touching (grabbing ass, etc), creepy men, mentions of violence/injuries, language (are we surprised), and just vig being generally unhinged as always. (let me know if i've missed anything!!)

Word count: 2.9k. oops.

Summary: You text in to Vigilante's 'Vigilante Hotline' after a bad encounter at the club.

likes, comments and rbs are very much appreciated <3

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You've heard of it, of course you have. It's the town's worst kept secret. The little side hustle that Evergreen's favourite local murderer-slash-vigilante (who's conveniently named Vigilante) runs at the weekend, when the clubs and bars are busy and the creepy assholes come out to play, preying on and harassing unsuspecting victims who, by the end of the night, are probably too drunk to even remember their faces when they wake up.

The cops know about it, too. They've made weak attempts to shut down his operation over the last couple of months, but really he's doing them a favour. They're already in over their heads with calls when the Friday night crowd hits the town's nightlife, so why not just let him operate under their noses? At least, for now. Until they can apprehend him.

So, yeah. You know of it, but you've never utilised it before, because truthfully you've never really had a reason to. You like to party, but your nights out are usually spent with your girlfriends, keeping a close watch on each other and avoiding interactions with men who look like they're bad news like the plague. It's a system that works, one that keeps you out of trouble and away from bad pick-up lines and hands where you most definitely don't want them to be.

Tonight is different, though.

Your friend bailed on you at the last second, a family emergency, and you were already dressed up, so you decided that instead of wiping off your makeup and changing back into your sweats, you'd go out anyway. What's the worst that could happen?

You soon found out that the worst came in the form of Brett Lucas. A guy you knew in high school, someone you haven't spoken to in years. He found you at the bar, used the shittiest lines you've ever heard, and then bought you a drink. You decided to entertain it, because if he was willing to fund your night, then why not? You kept your hand firmly over your drink while he made derogatory jokes about other women and commented on your body and your dress. When he asked you to dance, you agreed, hoping you'd be able to lose him on the crowded dance floor.

That didn't happen, though. Instead, he got a little too touchy-feely, kept his hands firmly on your hips and pulled your body close to his until he got brave enough to slide them on to your ass and squeeze. Hard. You freaked out, told him to back the fuck off, and instead of showing any remorse, he cussed you out. Called you a fucking slut and told you that you're a bitch for leading him on and making him think he had a chance at getting into your pants.

Now, you're standing just down the street from the club, staring at the oddly professionally made poster that's been flimsily taped to a lamppost, a little picture of the all-too familiar masked man that you've seen on the news and wanted posters right in the middle.

Vigilante Hotline

Have you been a victim of a fucking creep in a club who just won't leave you the fuck alone?

Did the guy at the bar use his worst pick-up line and then immediately assume that you're into him and it's okay to touch you without your consent?

Do you wish you could fuck them up without having to face the consequences yourself?

It's your lucky day, because I can fuck them up for you!

Text their name and/or a description to the number below and I'll make them wish their mom swallowed!

(This part is just to cover my ass so, if I accidentally beat up or kill the wrong person... my bad!)

You chew down on your bottom lip, looking between your phone and the poster. You've never really been a vengeful person, you've never wished harm on anyone or caused harm to anyone, but in this moment, it's tempting. You're a little bit tipsy, irate and unsettled. The one night you decide to go out on your own, and this happens? It's a little too tempting.

But is what happened enough to contact a guy who's known and wanted for murder? Is what he did enough to warrant the beatdown of a lifetime?

You sigh to yourself before slipping your phone back into your purse, deciding that it's not worth it. But as you begin to walk away, you remember his loud, jarring cackle whenever he cracked himself up at his own shitty jokes. The way his eyes never met yours, always trained on your chest or your thighs. His gross, sweaty hands roaming all over your body before they went to grope you on the dance floor, thinking you wouldn't react because you were surrounded by other people and it'd be too embarrassing for you to make a scene.

No. Fuck it. That asshole deserves it.

You spin around quickly and pull out your phone, adding the number to your contacts and quickly typing out a message, sending it before you can even give yourself another second to think it through.

'Hey. First time texting in. Need some help. Brett Lucas. White blonde dyed hair. Awful beard, doesn't match his hair. Around 5'9. Wearing a pink shirt and black jeans. Got handsy with me. Grabbed my ass on the dance floor. Don't kill. Just rough him up a little, please.'

You don't even have a minute to breathe before your phone pings. Fuck. Alright. He's fast.

'Sick. A first time user. Happy to help. Where can I find him? 🧜‍♂️'

'He was in Dazy Nights, downtown. You know where that is?'

30 seconds pass. Your phone pings again.

'Yep. Got it. Thank god for GPS. Don't worry, first timer. I'll fuck him up the ass so hard his he'll wish he'd never even been born, as advertised. Not literally, though. I'm not gonna actually fuck him up the ass. That'd be weird. But not because I'm homophobic. My dad is gay. More because he's a creep and he touched you inappropriately. 🧜‍♂️'

"What..." You mumble under your breath as you read the text, an incredulous giggle escaping you. This guy, whoever he is, is seriously fucked in the head, you decide. A little funny, too. But you can't complain too much. You contacted him, you made the choice to text his number and incite some indirect revenge. So you just shake your head, and text back.

'Thank you. I appreciate it. Again, don't kill. Just get him good.'

'Noted! No problemo. But if you ever do need me to kill, don't hesitate to ask, first timer. Seriously, I'm so down for it. Guys like that deserve it. 🧜‍♂️'

You decide to cut the conversation there, sliding your phone back into your purse. You feel a little sick to your stomach as you walk yourself home, guilt and regret stalking you the entire way, following you into your home and crawling into bed with you.

But as you lay there, wide awake, you remind yourself of what he said. Guys like that deserve it. And maybe he's right. Maybe this is for the best, maybe next time fucking Brett will think twice before making unwanted advances. Maybe you've saved someone else from the suffering the same fate as yourself at his hands.

That thought helps you sleep a little easier.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ

Monday rolls around quicker than you'd have liked it to, and all you've been able to think about over the weekend is that short conversation you had with Evergreen's own Vigilante a few nights ago. You spent all of Saturday morning re-reading the messages. Saturday night was spent in front of the TV, with some rom-com you've been meaning to watch playing as background noise while you thought about the messages. Sunday, you tried to distract yourself. You went out for brunch with a few friends, but as soon as you made it through your front door, your mind wandered right back to him and that silly little mermaid emoji that made his threats of murder seem a little lighter.

You wonder if he actually did it; whether he made good on his promise to fuck him up so badly that he'd be wishing he was never born. Part of you hopes he did, that he managed to find that fucker before he made it home and gave him a beating he'll never forget. The other part of you hopes that he missed out on the opportunity, if only to subside the quiet, yet nagging, guilty conscience in your head.

Work is a welcome distraction from the weekends events. Deadlines that need to be met, lunch with your co-workers, and your micro-managing boss that never seems to leave you the fuck alone when you're trying to do your job. It's all incredibly exhausting and boring, but at least it gives you the chance to take your mind off of what happened at the weekend, and the masked vigilante that's been invading your thoughts all weekend.

You haven't thought about it all day, until you pull up to the grocery store after work, and you see him. Brett.

He hasn't seen you, you're safely locked away in your car, but you can see him. He's standing outside the store, cigarette in hand, talking to a guy who you can only assume is one of his friends – he looks like he's just as much of an asshole as Brett. From where you're parked, you can see the shiner of a black eye on his face, dark blue bruising that extends to his forehead. There's numerous cuts and scrapes on his cheeks, and it's looks like his lips have been completely bust up.

It makes you feel slightly ill, looking at him, knowing that you're the one behind this. But at the same time, you can't help but smile to yourself, feeling weirdly... satisfied.

You grab your bag and pull out your phone, unlocking it and scrolling through your texts until you find the chat with the contact you've named 'VH'. You stare at your screen for at least a minute, re-reading the short conversation from Friday night over and over again. You want to text him. Hell, you've found yourself wanting to text him again all weekend, and you can't quite seem to place your finger on why that is. What would you even say to him? 'Hey, thanks for doing at great job at fucking up that guy's face, I really appreciate it'?

With a sigh, you lock your phone, trying to kick the urge to converse with a vigilante to the curb. But before you know it, you're typing in your password again and sending him a 'Hey'.

You keep the chat open, but you make a point out of looking away from the screen, hoping that if you don't look, he'll reply faster. Minutes pass by, and you're slightly disappointed by the absence of the jarring pinging of your notification bell. Then you remember that he probably has a life outside of being Vigilante. He's most likely just a normal guy, with a normal job and friends and family, he probably doesn't spend all of his time checking whatever burner phone he uses to run the hotline.

Just as you're about to lose hope that he'll respond, your phone pings.

'Woah, hey. First timer's a second timer already? Did you get yourself into trouble just so you could talk to me? 🧜‍♂️'

It pings again, a few moments later.

'For the record, that was a joke. If you're in trouble again, I'm sure it's not your fault and I'm more than happy to help. Though I gotta remind you that I usually only do this hotline stuff on weekends, but I'd be more than willing to extend my hours. For you. What can I do for you? 🧜‍♂️'

You feel your face heat up, a grin beginning to creep across your lips as you read the two texts. 'For you'. That's oddly sweet. He's oddly sweet. You know what he's done, you know he kills people. You've heard the whispers around town, stories from the people who've been lucky enough break the law and survive one of Vigilante's attacks. Yet you can't help but be taken in by how... charming he is. Sure, this is only the second conversation you've had with him, but he's been so kind. Funny, too, in his own way.

The rush you get from texting him is intoxicating, and it only makes you want more. So you type out a response, and hit send.

'Nothing! I didn't get in trouble again. I wouldn't want you working overtime for me. But I did wanna talk to you. Just to say thank you for what you did for me. I saw Brett. You got him good. Gave him a real shiner of a black eye.'

Just a minute later.

'HA. Yeah. You should have seen it. He took a real beating. He cried like a fucking BABY. Begged me not to kill him. I made him apologise for harassing women, too. It was HILARIOUS. You were right about the beard, btw. Definitely makes him look even more of an asshole🧜‍♂️'

You're surprised to see a video loading up on your screen.

'He definitely didn't mean it, life or death situations call for desperate measures I guess. But at least you can laugh at him and his stupid fucking face. 🧜‍♂️'

Although you're hesitant to press play, you do so anyway. There, on your screen, is Brett. Beaten and bloody, begging for his life, and apologising through his tears for being a creep. Saying sorry for using bad pick-up lines, and objectifying women's bodies, and... groping asses on the dance floor. You freeze up when you hear that, a wave of panic washing over you. Does he... does he know that you're the one that sent Vigilante after him? Fuck. You didn't even consider the possibility that he'd put two and two together and figure out that it was you who texted in. You have to know if he knows, if Vigilante mentioned anything specific about why he went after Brett.

'You're right. That's funny. But I need to ask you something.'

'Anything! 🧜‍♂️'

'Does Brett know that I'm the one who texted you? Did you mention anything about me or what happened?'

You chew on your bottom lip as you await a response, and when you read his reply, you're more than relieved.

'Nah. I didn't say anything. I wouldn't. Vigilante-client confidentiality, and all that. He was the one that mentioned names. A whole list of them, actually. Kinda concerning how many women he named that could've been the one to contact me about him.🧜‍♂️'

'Okay. Cool. I guess I just never thought of the consequences of texting in. I didn't consider that maybe he'd know it was me. Had me kinda panicked for a sec.'

'Don't worry, I made it clear that if he ever tried to approach or contact you or any of the other women he named, I'd find out. And I'd kill him for it. You're safe. I got you. 🧜‍♂️'

For what feels like the hundredth time in, you find yourself smiling down at your phone as you read his text.

'Thank you. I appreciate that :). Hopefully you've taught him a lesson. Maybe he'll stay home when the weekend comes around. I think he'd be doing everyone a favour.'

'Hopefully! Listen, I gotta buzz. Work stuff. Not Vigilante work. I only do that stuff at night. Like my actual job kind of work. But I'll talk to you later, first timer. 🧜‍♂️'

'Yeah, of course. Sorry for bothering you while you're at work. And thank you, again.'

You take a deep breath before sending another text.

'My name is (Y/N), btw <3'

'First timer has a name? Fucking sweet. Obviously I know you have a name but you never told me, so in my head I've just been calling you first timer. But now you're (Y/N), which is cool. So talk later, (Y/N)! 🧜‍♂️'

'<3 🧜‍♂️'

You throw your phone on to the passenger seat, like it's burning hot to the touch and it's just scalded you. Did you... did you seriously just send a heart to Vigilante? And did he seriously just send one back? Wait, no. The heart isn't the biggest problem. You just told him your name. Your real name. What if he finds you? What if this whole funny-charming-kind thing is just an act, and you end up bleeding in a dark alley within a month?

"Fuck..." You mumble, leaning your head back against your seat, wondering what the hell you've just gotten yourself into. Wondering if you should just block his number and never think about him again.

It's a stupid idea, getting involved with someone like him. One that could leave you hurt, or dead. Anyone would call you crazy for it. You probably are crazy for it. But that's not enough to deter you from reaching for your phone and grinning down at it when he texts you later that night.

'Hey. 🧜‍♂️'

It's a dangerous game, but one that you're more than willing to play.

[auteurdelabre]

Bravo, Take A Bow (series) Dieter Bravo x f!reader

Rating: 18+ (for future smutty chapters) mdi.

Summary: As a struggling actress you’re amazed when you land a role in an indie film you’re dying to be a part of. What you’re not expecting is to develop feelings for your mega famous and often exasperating co-star Dieter Bravo.

Chapter Warnings: Cigarettes.

length: 5.2k

a/n: I realized I didn't have any more sweet romances coming down the pipes and this one hit me during my rewatch of The Bubble. Hope ya'll enjoy it because I've outlined this entire story and wowee it's gonna be fun.

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Bravo, Take a Bow Chapter 1

"And I know that if I leave I won't be able to come back here, ever," you say, voice wobbling with emotion. “I won’t be able to.”

The three other people in the room are behind a long table, laptops and phones scattered amongst the litany of coffee cups. One bored looking young man operates the camera recording your audition.

Look up look up.

You're desperate for their eyes on you. To see the conviction in your face. To see how much this means to you. That you were meant for this role. 

But they tap away on their phones, faces lightly illuminated in the darkened room and they studiously ignore you. They tell you without words that you mean less. 

"I just want more than this," you say to the woman reading the other lines, a sullen looking blonde with big glasses. 

"I can't give you that anymore," she says flatly, trying to hold in a yawn. "I can't give you what you need."

She's been reading these same lines all day with variations of women like you. No wonder she's bored out of her mind. And yet in your mind she's Levi, the man you love who just won't commit. 

"You don't know that," you insist, your voice bordering on a plea. "You don't know what you can give because you don't try, Levi." 

"I'm trying the only way I know how." 

"It's not enough," you say, tears slipping down your cheeks. "Or . . . Maybe I'm not enough."

The tears come easily at that line. They have ever since you practiced them with Carlee, the emotion present every time. You've lived this role. You are this woman. It's like this was written for you.

And yet as you stand in the echoing silence you feel tears dot your waterline. Real ones. They form in the face of obvious disinterest from the panel of people across the room from you. 

You want this part so fucking bad and they just don't see you. They don't see how much you want this. How much you are this character. You think if only they watched you, if only they felt your heart yearning that they would understand why you need to be cast. 

The scene ends and the woman reading lines turns expectantly over to the woman in the blue sweater, presumably the lead casting director. 

She's nodding at something the bald man to her left is murmuring behind his hand. Only now does he give you a once-over, eyes cold. 

"Okay thanks, uh Caroline," the woman in a blue sweater says without looking at you. She's tapping her phone, her short acrylic nails making a clacking noise right at home with those ASMR videos you fall asleep to. "That'll do."

Your stomach sinks. "Uh my name's not Caroli-"

"Next!"

You're ushered out into the hall by the bored looking young man wearing an earpiece. Wearing a t-shirt with a band you've never heard of. You face a group of women that all look like you but younger, bouncier, prettier, shinier. 

You paint a smile on your face, wishing the next woman a genuine sounding good luck before you're striding down the hall with its puke brown carpet. 

You think of the three auditions you've had just this week. Two commercials (one about cat food, the other about tampons) and now this, the costar in an indie film. And you feel you've bombed every single one. 

What am I doing here? Am I fucking delusional?

You're too old to be breaking into this business. There are kids that have been working at this longer than you. Just because you acted in some local plays to local acclaim? Just because your acting coach told you that you were a natural? You thought that translated into moving here to Los Angeles and trying to start a new life?

Breaking away from the monotony, from the feeling that you were destined for more had buoyed you enough to leave your dead end job and sell your apartment back in Chicago. It propelled you to rent a shitty place in downtown LA, to find a decent agent and afford headshots. 

And now you walk back to that shitty apartment to get ready to wait tables because of course you've become the cliché

waitress/unemployed actress. It’s embarrassing at this age to be so lost, humiliating in the extreme.

Your cell rings in your pocket, you pull it to see Jack's name flash across the black screen and you sniff back the tears. 

"Hey LaLa," comes your brother's singsong voice through the phone when you answer. He's taken to calling you that since you moved out here. You roll your eyes, smiling all the same. 

"Hey Jacky," you reply with a smile.

Jack's got a good ten years on you, a huge house back home in Chicago with his gorgeous doctor wife and their three perfect kids. Despite being an annoyingly perfect child for your parents you've never resented him. He's always treated you well, not annoying and unkind like so many brother and sister relationships you've heard of.

"How's life in Hollyweird?"

"Fine," you say, trying to sound upbeat. "Just had an audition. Think I nailed it!"

You're shocked at how sincere you can make yourself sound even as you blink back tears. 

"Good for you!" Jack enthuses and you can hear the warmth in your brother's voice. You chat a bit more about the audition, talking about how you feel like the role was meant for you. Jack is as he always is, completely supportive. Then the conversation turns towards home.

"Wanted to know if you're coming back for Christmas this year?"

"Uh," you pause, thinking of how your bank account holds less than three hundred dollars. You think of groceries and new headshots and as you deliberate you feel ashamed at how little you have to call your own. 

"Thought your flight could be my Christmas gift to you," Jack adds as if he didn't just come up with this idea in response to your indecision. You feel warmth and gratitude flood you.

"Thanks Jacky, that would be amazing." 

///

"Tell me it went well."

"It went well," you promise, forcing a smile to your face as you enter into the shabby chic apartment you share with Carlee (yes with two E's). A cheerful looking girl younger than you but far more knowledgeable in the ways of the entertainment world. 

The apartment is very girly courtesy of your roommate. Large vintage movie posters are hung on every wall. Pink feather boas hang off of lampshades, silken kimonos hang off the backs of chairs. Decorative fans are pinned to the free space on the walls. Shiny and metallic cushions dot along the mustard yellow sofa. To you it’s like being inside a drag queen's carry-on luggage. 

Carlee accepted you as her roommate because as she said you "have the warmest aura" she's ever seen. You hadn't known what the fuck that meant but you'd taken the compliment and moved in that afternoon. 

Eight months later you now count her as a true friend. She runs lines with you for every audition, she cooked you soup when your blind date last month went really poorly and on the months when money is tight she's always fine with getting your half of the rent the following week. 

Carlee's dressed in her usual; white tank top, pink short shorts and white tube socks pulled up over her knees. She's beautiful in the plastic Beverly Hills sort of way; Fake lips, fake blonde hair, fake tits, real big heart.  

Carlee is like most that arrive in this city though. A girl who came with a dream and got derailed. She wanted to make costumes for films but turns out being the best back in Atlanta doesn't mean shit when you're out here with the nepo babies and internal hires. 

Unlike you however, Carlee took her bad fortune and turned it on its head. She runs a fairly successful onlyfans page out of her bedroom. You've never watched it, but from what you gather it's a lot of moaning theatrically and using larger and louder toys men send to her PO box. 

She makes more than enough to cover her part of the rent, cosmetic procedures and has enough left over for clubbing and mini vacations in Mexico. Despite this she still makes her own clothes to party in. That creative part of her never died out, that ember still glowing. 

She's standing by the counter when you arrive, toeing off your shoes and dropping your purse by the front door. 

"You have a good day?"

"I did!" She says with a wide smile. "A fan sent me a five hundred dollar tip."

"Jesus!" You whistle. Five hundred dollars? That's insane to you. You watch her pull something colorful from off the seat of the chair and thrust it into your hands. 

"I made you this," she tells you jumping excitedly from foot to foot. "Try it on."

It's an oversized hair bow of garish lime green and fuchsia. It's got little pearls hand sewn into it and you know for a fact that Carlee spent hours making it, probably smiling the entire time.

"I love it," you tell her, trying not to cringe. It's definitely not the sort of thing that you would normally wear. Ever. "Thank you so much!"

"You can wear it to work tonight," Carlee tells you with a bring smile. "Maybe it'll bring in more tips?"

You don't know how to tell her that wearing this will get you nothing but eye rolls from the fashionistas that flock to the restaurant you waitress at. And you can't tell her that, so you clip your hair back from your face and strike a model pose.

"Whadda ya think?"

"Gorgeous," she says clapping happily. "It looks so nice. Oooh you could wear it to your auditons too!"

"Yeah maybe," you say, trying not to sound horrified at the thought.  That’s one way to stand out.

"And don't worry. If the audition doesn't pan out there's always OnlyFans," she tells you seriously. "The guys on my channel love girl on girl stuff."

You force a smile and nod.

"Flattering as that is I think I'll stick with the restaurant." 

///

The restaurant is bustling as you arrive that evening. You wrinkle your nose as you head back into the staff room because everything smells like garlic tonight. You're convinced it will take at least two washes to get the scent completely removed from your hair. 

The restaurant you work at is a high end restaurant called "That Place" (and yes, it's just as pretentious as it sounds). All black furniture and spiky looking light fixtures. And while you don't love working a service job, the tips here are what save you most months. 

Your acting skills really helped you land the job, pretending that serving steak to entitled influencers and drug-addled celebrities was the ultimate dream. And you're a good employee, dependable, smiley. You don't do drugs, you don't steal. 

The only thing they don't love is that you're an "actress" (something they say out the corner of their downturned mouths the same way they would say "homeless" or "ex-con"). But as long as you show up and switch your shifts without giving the managers a headache that's all they care about.

You smooth down your skirt, then your hair, fingering the large bow and about to remove it as Charlotte comes from the back, her light eyes shining as she dodges a busboy carrying a tray of dirty dishes. 

"How did it go?"

Charlotte loves hearing about your auditons and you love her, because Charlotte isn't like anyone else in Los Angeles. Charlotte isn't after fame and fortune. She just wants enough so that she can pay off her mortgage and have enough left over for her grandkids. She’s usually the dishwasher on the nights you work.

Without your family here she's become like a surrogate mother to you and you hate disappointing her time and time again. Like now she’s standing there wiping her hands on her apron looking so excited for you. How can you tell her how poorly it went?

"Pretty good," you lie with a bright smile. "I really hope I get this one."

"Well I can't wait to see you on my TV again," she enthuses, patting your arm affectionately as you cringe. "I told all my friends about you!"

She's referring to the one gig you've managed to land since you got here. A commercial for dish soap that started with you pretending to fall into a dishwasher and ended with you in a giant bubble costume espousing the virtues of "Sudsy, for when life gets too messy" in a jingle that works its way under your skin every time you hear it. 

It's humiliating but it had been a national commercial and that meant it paid well. It had been enough to cover your rent for two whole months, a mattress for your bed and a new set of headshots. 

"Well I might have some good news," Charlotte says taking you by the hand and leading you to the swinging kitchen doors. There are two large porthole windows on the steel doors and she urges you to look through.

"See who that is?"

"Where?"

"Big booth. Far right."

Your eyes pan to the large booth in the corner of the restaurant. It's usually reserved for parties of twelve or more, but right now it boasts a man sandwiched between two beautiful young women. He says something and the group laughs. He tilts his head back to laugh and that's when you recognize the man. 

"Is that-?'

"Yep," Charlotte nods. "From those Beast movies."

Dieter Bravo. 

Famous actor, famous playboy known for his hard partying lifestyle and the trail of broken hearted men and women he's left in his wake. You often see him in the headlines of gossip magazines making a splash doing something outrageous.

He won an Oscar a few years back for some dark comedy that you saw and didn't really enjoy. You miss his early stuff, the indie films he made when he was fresh faced and eager. But that was ages ago, likely long forgotten by anyone but hard core fans of film. 

"I told the girls to put him in your section," Charlotte says with her eyes bright. "Maybe he can help you with that latest audition? Put in a good word with the casting director? Give you an edge?"

You want to hug Charlotte for being so sweet. You also want to laugh out loud because that's not how this business works at all. 

But Charlotte doesn't know that. She's a fifty year old dishwasher who reads tarot for extra cash on the side. She doesn't know Hollywood aside from the snippets you've shared with her. She just thinks you need to know the right people and it will all fall into place. 

"Thanks Lotte."

"Okay get out there quick. I told them I'd bring out waters in a sec but you know how those celebrities can be. Everything is now now now."

She punctuates the last three words with sharp snaps of her fingers.

You give her a wink, taking the tinkling tray of water glasses she offers you. You fill them and then take a deep breath before pushing through those same double doors.

You approach the booth the same as you do whenever there is a celebrity that comes to eat. Eyes down until you reach the table with the water glasses. 

All servers at That Place are specially trained in this when hired: treat celebrities the same as any other customer, don't ask for an autograph or a selfie, and don’t talk about yourself or try to get them to look at your screenplay. Just do your job and be professional. 

You're not surprised when you glance up from placing the water glasses on the table to see him between two giggling models, arms on the back of the booth around both of them. 

He's tilted back, wearing what looks like an oversized sweater with an insane pattern. His hairstyle consists of tousled brown curls that curve just below his ear that currently boasts an impressive gold stud. He wears sunglasses despite the fact that light is so low in here many can’t read the menus.

"Hi there," you say smiling at the trio. "Are we expecting anyone else?"

"Nope this is it," Dieter says with a wide grin. His teeth are bright white under a poorly trimmed beard. "Just me and these delicious morsels."

The women next to him giggle, looking up at you superciliously when you simply nod. Delicious morsels? Jesus. 

"Can I start you all with some drinks?"

When Dieter takes the water glass from the table you can see his long fingers are adorned with rings over each knuckle. A hemp bracelet peeks out from beneath the wrist of his ornate sweater. He removes his sunglasses now and you note his dark eyes reflect the decorative candle in the center of the table (something you hate having to clean around after every table leaves).

"Whiskey for me, Karuizawa Vintage," the name trips off his tongue. You're surprised at how husky his voice is in real life, how deep. You've only seen his comedy films lately, ones where he sports a higher pitched voice and a comically bad Latin accent. 

"Ladies?"

"Domaine d’Auvenay Chardonnay if you have it," the curvaceous redhead with long eyelashes tells you. You nod, trying not to look at the creamy bust that nearly pops out of her low neckline.

"Same for me," the Asian girl says flashing a wide veneered smile. Her hair is blue -black and hangs like a curtain over shoulders. One arm is decorated entirely with colorful traditional-looking Dragon tattoos. She wears an equally low neckline but her bust is nearly non-existent.

"I'll be right back with those."

You turn, heading for the kitchen, trying to remember the names of the alcohol when you catch a snicker from behind you.  

"Did you see that bow?" One of the girls says behind you with an ugly titter. "Hideous."

"She's way too old for it. Looks like a clown."

You hear Dieter chuckle along with them and you feel your face grow hot. 

Ignore them.

And yet even telling yourself that you move to the back room, tugging the bow from your hair and hastily shoving it into your purse inside the staff lockers. 

Then you get the ludicrously expensive drinks from the bar, rolling your eyes when Nick the bartender asks you if the redhead Dieter is sitting with is from Playboy.

"How would I know that?" You sneer before taking the tray of drinks back to the table. 

The girls are both on their phones, swiping and taking photos of the menu when you approach. It gives you audition flashbacks and you try not to frown.

You place their drinks on the glossy table, sliding them in front of the girls who don't even offer you a thank you. You lean over the large table, wishing they had picked anywhere else to sit. Wishing Charlotte hadn't tried to help you by seating them in your section. 

You move to the whiskey tumbler feeling Dieters eyes on you. You glance up to see him looking at you as you slide his drink towards him, his large doe-eyes amused. You're shocked at how dark they are, almost black. 

You look away, remembering what your boss said about staring at celebrity clients. 

"Sudsy, right?"

You feel your spine straighten as he says this just low enough for you to hear. Your eyes slowly go to his, wide and unblinking. 

Please no.

"For when life gets too messy," he sings lightly, eyes crinkling in amusement as he grins at you. The girl with the tattoo catches the end of the tune and her face lights up as she turns off her phone. 

"I knew I recognized you," she says jeering as you straighten, taking the tray with you. "The laundry commercial!"

"Dish detergent," you correct miserably. Before she can say anything else you force a smile to your face. "Have you decided on your mains?"

"So you're an actress?" The redhead asks softly. She and the other girl exchange amused smirks that don't go unnoticed by you. 

"Isn't everyone in this town?" You say trying to keep it light. "Tonight's specials are -"

"Have you done anything else?" The beautiful asian girl asks. "Or is it strictly dish soap themed ads for the foreseeable future?"

Dieter laughs behind his hand at that and you feel your mouth twisting into a grimace. You watch them sip their expensive wine, trying not to be jealous of their beauty and youth and connection to celebrity. Life must be so easy for them.

"You never know," you say breezily. "Might be my springboard into superstardom."

The girls snicker openly, not bothering to try and hide their amusement. But there's a twist to their mouths, displeasure that you seem so unperturbed by their casual cruelty. 

"Steve Carell started in a chicken commercial," Dieter supplies, perhaps feeling poorly for laughing at you earlier. "Speaking of which I'll take the Coq au vin. And the ladies will both order a shrimp salad but then not eat any of it because they have a shoot tomorrow, correct girls?"

You hide a small smirk of amusement at the girls' faux outrage, neither of them acknowledging the irony when they both order the salmon salad with dressing on the side. 

You nod, heading away from their table, feeling their eyes on you. The bow is gone so there's nothing else to tease you about. Still their mockery doesn't leave your brain, even when you submit their order to the kitchen. 

Your stomach twists uncomfortably. It's like you've swallowed poison, the way your guts churn.  Your teeth clench as you make your way to the kitchen. You want to spit into every piece of food they've ordered. Too bad security cameras exist. 

You wait on other tables through the night, always pleasant, always smiling. Several times you think you catch Dieter's eyes on you, but that may just be because he commands attention with his loud braying laugh. 

They take up the table for twelve all night, severely cutting into your tips and your patience. It seems you're forever being called over, your attention demanded through your entire four hour shift. 

I think my salmon is overcooked.

Could I get another whiskey?

This wine tastes watered down.

When you go to remove Dieter's empty plate your eyes swim over the untouched salmon salads in front of the girls who are back on their phones posing. 

"Told ya," Dieter grins up at you. 

You can't help but smirk a little. But you're also disgusted at the waste. These salads go for $85 apiece. 

"Would you like these packed up?"

"No thanks," the girls reply simultaneously. You hold in a judgmental grimace before nodding, taking their full plates into your hands.

"I'll be back with your bills."

"All on one," Dieter says with a yawn. He's pulling on his jacket, an oversized furry thing that seems like it would be more at home on an experimental fashion runway. 

The bill comes to over $1200 mostly because of all the alcohol consumed. That's more than your half of the monthly rent. Dieter doesn't even flinch when you bring the bill and the machine over, just hands over his gold card and signs the receipt. 

"Did you want a copy?"

"I'm good."

"Thank you for dining with us," you say without glancing at the receipt. You place it face-down on table, getting ready to clear the remaining glasses.

You want to look at what he tipped you when he leaves, excited. Most of the time celebrities leave very healthy tips and right now you could use it. Judging by how he wasn't fazed by the total, you hope it's a good one. 

"’Night," he says smiling over at you.

Then he's got a clinging girl in each arm and he's making his way through the restaurant. Standing up you see that he's wearing furry boots to match his jacket.

His fashion is something else.

You watch as an excited couple at a table flag him down for a photo in the nearly empty restaurant. He pauses long enough to flash a peace sign behind them in the photo before heading out into the night with the models.  

You allow the doors to close behind him before you've pulled the receipt from the table your eyes darting to the subtotal line. 

Nothing. He's left nothing.

Just the total for the bill and his scrawling signature. No tip for putting up with those girls mockery. No tip for being humiliated with Sudsy memories. No tip for running back and forth like a fucking dog for them and their endless requests. 

"That bastard."

Before you know it your legs are scissoring across the restaurant, pushing open the door with a violent slap. 

You see the models and their long legs getting into a black town car and are about to stalk over to them when you catch a whiff of cigarette smoke. 

You turn to see Dieter glancing over at you, brows raised in surprise. He doesn't even have the decency to look embarrassed. The end of his cigarette glows a bright red as he inhales.

"You're unbelievable."

"Thanks," Dieter says confusedly as he exhales. The cigarette hangs loosely between his lips. "In what?"

You know that if your boss hears about this you'll be in such deep shit but you don't care. You’ve  had a shitty night and most of it has been because of him and his horrible dates. You move towards him, eyes narrowed. 

"I had to put up with you and those horrible girls all night and you couldn't even give me a decent tip?” you hiss. “You must make millions every year! Are you seriously so out of touch that you think that’s okay?"

Dieter smirks at you, taking a long drag from his cigarette, looking you over. Despite how wild he is, how frenetic his energy according to interviewers and gossip columns, right now he seems almost solemn as he continues to stares at you. 

You've said what you needed to and you feel your irritation deflating at his unbothered response. 

The redhead rolls down the window and sticks her head out calling over to Dieter.

"Are you coming? They're waiting for you!"

"Yep," Dieter replies smoothly tossing the cigarette to the ground, crushing it with a wide fur boot. He looks back to you, giving a slow wink.  

"See ya 'round, Sudsy."

You don't reply, only watching as he pulls himself into the black town car. You turn on your heels marching back into the restaurant. You stride over to the table, grumbling as you go, cleaning the top for tomorrow's customers. 

The candle burns brightly and you notice it's tilted. You roll your eyes, going to nudge it back into place but it's bumping against something. You crawl into the booth, still warmed by their bodies to get a better look.

You feel your face blanch when you realize several bills have been thrust under the candle holder. 

Your tip.

You pull out the wads of bills (all hundreds) and shakily count them out on the table, inhaling sharply when you reach the end of the stack.

A thousand dollars. He left you a thousand dollar tip on a $1200 bill. 

You feel so embarrassed you want to crawl into the fetal position and die. You just screamed at a man that left you a thousand dollar tip. 

And he just stared at you amused outside the doors. Didn't get mad, didn't get ruffled, just looked you over and tried not to laugh. He must have thought you were so pathetic.

You want to rush back outside to flag down the car but you know there's no point. He's long gone and all he'll remember of this restaurant is how shitty you treated him. 

You find Charlotte in the back, getting ready to head home. She looks over at you excitedly.

"So? How'd it go?"

"Pretty boring as far as celebs go," you shrug. "With his reputation I figured there'd be a lot more cocaine and screaming."

You give Charlotte four hundred from your tip, citing it a "finder’s fee" for putting him in your section. She tries to refuse it until you pull open her purse at her hip and stuff the bills inside. She hugs you so tightly you groan before laughing. 

///

Its two weeks after that embarrassment that your cell rings early one morning. It's your day off and you're still in bed. You'd been kept up late last night by an extra special filming session of Carlee's "content" in the room next to yours. 

When the phone rings for a third time you're startled into wakefulness, scrambling for your phone next to you in bed. 

It's Gwen, your agent. A woman that's kind as quickly as she is cutting. She made it clear she doesn't take on clients who don't perform. 

You're terrified that's what she's calling about now. One shitty dish soap commercial is all you've been able to book in eight months. 

"Hello?"

You hate how scared you sound. 

"Clear your schedule on Friday."

This is Gwen, straight to business. No hello, how are you? She doesn't care about you liking her. She cares about booking you and she cares about you making her money.

She was perfectly up front about this when you knocked on her door, begging to be represented. She'd almost refused until you'd shown her your audition reel. You remember the way her eyes had softened during your monologue from "Our Town". 

"You know that indie picture you auditioned for a few weeks ago?"

"Uh, yep." 

You clear your throat, hoping you don't sound as if you've just woken up. You want to give her the illusion that you're a smoothie drinking morning person, fresh faced and ready to go out and audition. 

"Well you got a callback," Gwen tells you with a laugh when she hears your shocked gasp on the other end. 

"Oh my g- are you--" You sputter, tired eyes blown wide. "I can't-"

"Better work on those speaking skills," Gwen tells you, amused. 

You could cry right now, you could scream. You're so overjoyed, so grateful. And yea it's not a sure thing, but it feels good to get a callback. It means they see potential. And potential in this town is worth something. It means you might get seen by people who make more films, your audition could mean a part in a future project.

Gwen tells you the details of the follow up audition. It'll be held at one of the nicer hotels in Burbank. You feel a zap of excitement flow through you at the thought of pulling up there, of walking through with your head held high.

"This is an indie production but there's some high end actors already attached," Gwen explains, all business again. "The script alone has Oscar buzz. So you really gotta wow 'em on Friday."

"I will."

"Whatever you did last time worked because they want you to do a chemistry read with the lead."

"Are you serious?"

Chemistry reads are a good sign. That means you're seriously being considered. You also feel a bit nervous as you recall the script. It's intense, some very raw-sounding sensual scenes. You're going to need to be able to trust your scene partner. You hope it's someone who takes this whole thing seriously, a true professional. 

"Do they know the lead?"

You hear Gwen shuffling some papers on her desk as she finds out the information for you. 

"Yep. It's Dieter Bravo." 

[gumnut-logic]

Five pick up and one drop off (Pick up 5)

Pick up 1 | Pick up 2 | Pick up 3 | Pick up 4 | Pick up 5

This one took a bit of wrangling, but here it is.

Monique first appeared when Scott needed a little roadside assistance.

I hope you enjoy her second appearance :D

-o-o-o-

Monique was his pickup truck and he loved her.

She had been red a long time ago, but nowadays she was more brown and just old. He did keep her maintained and she was definitely road worthy. But she was old. And when you’re old, things sometimes broke down.

Which is why Virgil Tracy, billionaire, International Rescue operative, engineer, artist, musician and coffee fan was currently lying in the weeds on the roadside under the old girl.

There was grease in his hair.

It was his fault really. He had been so busy of late; he hadn’t had time to get out to the farm and service her. And since she was no longer driven regularly, well, he had hoped, but this was inevitable.

Sorry, Grandpa.

He sighed. He wasn’t going to be able to fix this out here in the middle of nowhere country Kansas, and consequently he was stranded.

Looking at the state of the bearings involved he was lucky he had made it out here without seizing something up and coming to a very sudden stop.

“Sorry, Monique baby, but you’re not going anywhere for a while.” He sighed and reached for the rag he knew he would be needing.

“Virgil?”

He jumped.

Unfortunately, being under the car with little or no clearance, he whacked his head on the gearbox.

“Ow! John, what the-?”

“Virgil, you okay?”

His brother’s voice came from his collar comms, of course. Johnny was not standing next to the car. Though, come to think of it, Johnny would be preferable to the brother he knew he was going to have to call.

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t sound fine.”

“Jus’hit my head. What do you need?” Please not a rescue. He was on leave and leaving Monique on the side of the road was just wrong.

And he was working out logistics on how to get Monique into Thunderbird Two fast enough not to slow them down. But then she would be in the way and could compromise a mission, and damnit, he really didn’t want to leave her on the side of the road!

“Just checking in. You’ve been stationary in the middle of nowhere for some time now and its not like Monique has a computer I can interface with for a tech report.”

“You mean hack. My Lamborghini has not felt right since you played in her processor.”

“I needed information! You looked like you were being attacked!”

“I was being kissed, John. Clean your lenses.”

“Over the hood of your car.”

“I enjoyed it.”

“TMI, Virgil.”

Virgil couldn’t help grinning. It wasn’t often he won a verbal spar with his space brother. “I am fine, John. No kissing happening here.”

The frustrated groan from orbit only made him grin more.

“So you don’t want me to notify Gordon that you need rescuing?”

The grin vanished and it was Virgil’s turn to groan. Okay, needling John was never a successful ploy. One day he would remember that his brother was a genius and had all the answers.

A sudden banging on the side of his truck startled him enough to hit his head again. What the-?

“You okay down there, mate?”

Uh? Virgil pushed himself out from under his truck and found himself squinting up at a guy about his Dad’s age.

“Broken down?”

“Uh, yeah.” He got his feet under himself and leaning on Monique, stood up.

There was a giant black pickup truck on the other side of the road, three times the size of Monique. A sticker with flickering flame towards the rear declared ‘Burning dinos’.

“Need a hand?” The guy had a grey beard and hair, bit of a belly, and tattoo down one tanned arm.

Virgil grabbed that rag and wiped his hands best he could. “No, she’s not going anywhere, I’m afraid. Thanks for stopping, though.”

“Not a prob. Just doing the neighbourly thing.” The man frowned. “Say, are you from around here?”

“Not quite-”

“You look familiar.” The man’s frown deepened.

Uh, oh.

“You been on the HoloV?”

“Uh-“

The man peered at his face, enough for Virgil to have to take a step back and collide with Monique.

“You look a lot like one of those rescue guys. You know, the ones who fly those planes that make all that noise.”

“Well, yeah I-“

But then the guy was laughing. “Sorry, you must get that a lot.”

“Sometimes.”

“It’s not like one of those billionaires would drive something like that, is it?”

And he was gesturing at Monique.

Virgil frowned. “Well-“

“After all, I earn enough and look at my girl. She’s got everything I can afford and still she needs more.”

A glance at the black monstrosity and there was definitely no need for more. He seriously doubted the vehicle had ever done a lick of work, or in some cases, could.

He could hear his father saying it now - ‘she ain’t pretty, but she’s practical’. Dad always was function over form. Monique may be old and worn, but she’d earnt every scratch and scrape, and she wore them proudly.

“So, you doin’ her up?”

“What?”

“Your truck. She a work in progress?”

“No, she just needs some repairs. My brother will pick me up soon.” He really should call Gordon, despite the ribbing involved.

“Sure you don’t want a lift?”

“Yeah, thanks anyway.” Was it rude to hope the man would leave?

Probably.

Unfortunately, either way, he didn’t.

“So, what is it? The money?

“Excuse me?”

“The reason why you drive a broken truck.”

“Uh-“

“Just imagine if we had the money. You could fix up it up, give it a new paint job.” He arched an eyebrow at Monique. “Or buy a new one.”

“I like my truck as she is.” Bar a busted bearing or two.

The guy eyed Virgil like he had a disease. “Why?”

“She’s an heirloom.”

“I can see that.” He took a step back as if to really look at Virgil’s truck. “Is that a backyard eco-conversion?” A look of pure horror crossed the guy’s face.

“Yeah.” Dad and Grandpa had done it together back in the 2030s. Grandpa didn’t want to take the truck off the road, so the gas engine got the boot and Dad had helped him install the eco-conversion.

“You do realise an eco can’t compare to a traditional gasoline engine? My girl has six hundred horsepower under her hood. She works hard and plays hard. She can pull 15,000 pounds and not break a sweat.”

Virgil folded his arms. “Impressive.” Except for the whole burning hydrocarbons issue, deal breaker that it was. He wasn’t going to mention Monique’s specs, she was after all, more than she looked.

Besides, he could hear the sound of his girl in the distance. She could pull a lot of things.

Thunderbird Two shot into a low hover above Monique, tossing hair and grass alike, her roar all encompassing. “Hey, Virg, Johnny said you needed a lift?” Gordon’s voice bounced around as big truck guy’s jaw dropped.

“Thanks, Gordon.” Virgil turned to his companion and held out a hand. “Thanks again for stopping.”

The man’s hand was offered absently as he stared up at Virgil’s girl.

“You might want to stand back.”

He vaguely nodded and backed his way across the road to his truck.

“Gordon, grapples will do the job. It’s not far.”

“Aye, Captain.”

Virgil rolled his eyes and, pulling open Monique’s driver side door, climbed in and put on his seat belt.

The clunk of four magnetic grapples, a gentle tug, and Monique left the ground.

Virgil couldn’t help but look down at the man staring up at Virgil’s girl.

Was it wrong to enjoy the shock on the man’s face?

Probably.

-o-o-o-

[mode-lfy]

Minju - Bad Police

Minju smut

"Damn it!" Y/n punched the steering wheel as he was driving back to the his house after the operation to catch the drug syndicate failed. Minju, his partner officer, tries to calm him down.

"Oppa, calm down, it's okay. We will get them next time" Touching his shoulders softly. "I'm going to go home, I will send you home first." "Nooo... I want to hang out with you for awhile. Then I will go home myself, I will be lonely at home anyway." Minju said while pouting.

Once Y/n arrived at his house with Minju, they both laid down on the sofa and finally took a rest from the long and chaotic day they just had.

Y/n tries to process what happened earlier during the raid and couldn't get through it. He goes to the fridge and gets 2 can of cold beer for him and Minju to drink while chatting.

Soon, Y/n tells her to go home and have a good sleep. "I'm going to go have a shower anyway, so go home okay." Minju kept quiet.

Then suddenly Minju asks Y/n to accompany her for a little longer which he complies, as they were talking about it. Y/n can't help but talk about the syndicate they were assigned to arrest. Suddenly Minju got up and slowly got on her knees as she's Infront of Y/n.

"Oppa, you need to put your mind off the case. Let me help you" as she shows him her cleavage. Y/n instantly got hard as she's always has been his crush since he seen her. Y/n couldn't have been more happier ever since she was assigned to be his partner.

Minju unzips his pants and his dick comes out and finally freed. Minju smiles at Y/n and started sucking his dick. "Hmmphhh!!" Minju closed her eyes and enjoyed the feeling of Y/n's hard cock in her warm mouth.

Y/n touches Minju soft hair as she continues sucking his dick. Minju then moans softly as Y/n starts to guide her head up and down his dick. Minju's tongue begins to move around Y/n's cock and that was the last straw for him. Soon, Y/n came in her mouth.

Minju swallows his cum and then sits on his lap, kissing him. Both didnt want to let go of the kiss, but Minju suddenly broke the kiss after 3 minutes.

" *pants, Oppa, let's continue this on the bed. I hope you are still ready." She looks at his penis while saying that.

Y/n got up and carried her princess style to the bedroom and laid her on the bed

As he prepares to enter her, Minju wrestles him down and attached gum with barrages of kisses. "Let me take over, Oppa, you have been too stressed." They both undressed and Minju rides his cock eagerly. Minju rides him roughly and she takes both of Y/n's hands and place them on her breasts.

Y/n pulled his head up towards her breasts and sucked her nipples softly which makes Minju more aroused. Suddenly, Minju sees that Y/n's phone is receiving a call from his friends and picks it up and put it on speaker mode and passed it to Y/n

Y/n panicked and greeted his friend first.

"Yo! Y/n! Wanna grab a drink with us to the bar? It's happy hour time!"

"*Pants, No, I'm busy right now, I gotta go now right okay? I'm on a case right now!"

Then Minju moans loudly, "Oh yes! Oppa! Fuck me harder!" You are so good!"

Y/n quickly hung up the call and puts Minju below him and decided to take over things himself. "Oppa Angry?" She smirked as she say it innocently.

"Yes, I'm angry and I'm going to fuck you so hard that you can't walk tomorrow!" Then Y/n quickly inserts his dick into her pussy and thrust in hard and quickly without giving any mercy. Minju moans loudly and she drags Y/n's head to hers and they both kissed while Y/n continued thrusting inside her.

For the next one hour, both of them continued kissing while having sex in different positions. Finally ending in missionary style, "Oppa, give it to me hard and fast please. Oh I want you to fuck me rough." Y/n sucked her neck as Minju came, soon Y/n slowed down after he released his load in her.

Both of them panted as they look at each other and smiled at each other. They hugged each other to sleep.

The next day

Y/n wakes up to the feeling of his hands and feet being moved around and the sound of handcuffs being locked. Alarmed, he instantly awakens and sees Minju smirking and say,"I got you now!"

Author’s note:

It’s been a long time since I wrote but I’m planning to start writing again. Meanwhile I might just post of my old smuts from Wattpad in Tumblr.

This minju smut is one of my less well written smut.

Take care!

[spideesenses]

Half a Heart → Miguel O’Hara

pairing: miguel x gn!reader

warnings: angsty

prompt: miguel has a difficult time balancing out work and his personal life; you have received the short end of the stick countless of times.

Midnight rolled around & the empty spot next to you remains cold. Your heavy heart aches. You tried not to cry, but once that pinch in your chest comes to light, you can’t help the knot that gets stuck in your throat.

This was the 12th time this month that Miguel had left you hanging without any form of communication. 12th time the two of you had planned for a date & him not show up. You understood that he ran a business, you weren’t entirely sure what the business was, only that you would be safer if you didn’t know & to trust Miguel. Him not showing up was only a portion of the issue… the other part was him not communicating. Would you still be a little disappointed if he did communicate? Yes, of course, anyone would be if plans fell through last minute. But you wouldn’t have to hold onto this sliver of hope that just maybe… he’d make it this time.

You started thinking about how he hardly texted you as it was. You weren’t exactly the clingy type. You could be at times, but as a full-time worker, you understood that obligations come up. To make sure you weren’t crazy, you pulled out your phone. You scrolled, making note of the conversations that you had & all of them, were conversations that you initiated.

Two weeks ago

You — 6:56 AM good morning love, i hope you have a great day today. i miss you so much. i’m off at 5 today. any chance we can order takeout and have a movie night?💕

Miggy Smalls — 7:12 AM Buenos dias mi vida. I should be good for a date night, only I’ll be home at around 9 the latest. That okay with you? Be safe, i miss you xo💋

You — 7:15 AM sounds good. should i order from that thai place up the street?

You — 5:20 PM miguel?

You — 6:01 PM i ordered your favorite. should be here in 2 hours and a half. let me know when you’re on the way home. stay safe

You — 8:10 PM oh! i saw this and it reminded me of you. thought you might have a laugh [attachment]

You — 9:32 PM hey, you on the way? im throwing your food in the microwave so it’s warm when you get here!

You — 11:24 PM haven’t heard from you. hope you’re okay. food’s in the fridge🥺

Miggy Smalls — 2:12 AM Dios mios, lo siento baby. I’ll make it up to you, I promise

Two weeks ago

You — 9:44 AM hi! thinking of you. i miss you😭 little bit extra today.

Miggy Smalls - 10 AM Does my baby need a hug delivered? I’ll stop by with some lunch too.

You — 10:03 AM oh please! and a kiss too, while you’re at it🥺

Miggy Smalls — 11:45 AM Omw baby. Hang tight

You — 2:12 PM thank you for coming to see me today. it was very special to me & meant a lot. i love you

Miggy Smalls — 3:54 PM I love you baby. Of course. Sorry it’s been a while since we’ve spent time together, work can be unpredictable at times

You — 4 PM all good. just try to talk to me more, so i can be understanding, okay?

It wasn’t all bad. Miguel had his moments where he would show up for some cuddles. He wouldn’t stay long, but those moments were sacred to you. You cherished those moments beyond his imagination. Of course you did, you had to with how rare they were.

Tears rolled down your face as you went through your messages. You missed him so much. More than words could fathom. And with every single fiber in your body, you wished that you could stop feeling this feeling. Missing him was painful. It felt like your body was operating without its heart. Like you were walking around with only one shoe.

It wasn’t always like this either. In the beginning, Miguel was the one texting and calling you first. He was showing up to your apartment with food and a movie, or a puzzle he picked up. Actually, one of your first quarrels was how he felt like you weren’t doing these things for him. And you felt like these were things he enjoyed, so you didn’t want to take it from him; so the resolution was you would take turns. But that Miguel feels like he’s millions of miles away, as if he’s a completely different person.

You tried your hardest to distract yourself, but the screaming red light of your digital clock reading 12:56 PM only mocked you. You couldn’t get the time of his day. Could you even consider this a relationship?

The memories slowly peeled away in your head. Good and bad. And you really began questioning if the good really could outweigh the bad.

A shadow drifts across your window, causing you to sit up, immediately wiping your face with the sleeve of Miguel’s hoodie. If an intruder was going to get you, you’d be damned if it were booger-faced crying.

Immediately, your heart starts to pound in your chest; if the intruder didn’t know any better, it’d almost be as if you were knocking at the window. You reached for your bedside lamp, clutching it at the base, raising your arm as the shadowed figure presses their fingers to push up the window. Without hesitating, you swipe the lamp at the unnamed stranger.

“Ow! Babe?” you hadn’t even realized your eyes were closed shut and turned to the side. You peeked your eyes and there he was in all of his glory.

“M-Miguel?” you sniffled. You couldn’t help it. You saw him and your heart tore. The weld in your throat tightened as you swallowed.

“Baby, it’s okay. It’s just me.”

Only it wasn’t.

[feralforfrank]

LOVE CONFESSIONS IN THE DARK.

BRADLEY "ROOSTER" BRADSHAW X FEM!READER

summary you've been tasked to grab your clean clothes from the laundry room during a storm. little do you know, a certain someone has a similar task.

cw ANGST, but it's the last time. FLUFF. kind of bad writing. storms, thunder, the dark. feelings!!! miscommunication fr, definitely not how the navy operates, but idc. NON-DESCRPTIVE READER. TELL ME IF I MISSED ANYTHING.

a/n THE LONG AWAITED LAST PT3 IS HEREEEE. im feeling kind of...weird about the ending. i like it, but i dont love it. i hope you peeps enjoy it, though!! sorry for taking so long to write and post it :/

masterlist | taglist

Sunday noon came around quicker than you wanted it. You'd slept until eleven and elected to stay in bed until it was time to eat. When that time came, you ate Penny's homemade burritos that Nix had sneaked in without the boys seeing.

The two of you ate in your bed and then laid back down. Phoenix was literally on top of you, her hands supporting her head. If Hangman were to walk in now, he'd never let her live this down. Badass Nix with messy bed hair, practically cuddling her heartbroken friend. It was a rare sight.

"I'm exhausted, Nix. I wish I'd never opened my goddamn mouth." You sighed, rubbing your temples.

You were tired. After your confession, you raced back here, flopped under the covers and cried, much like the night before. You wanted to take everything back—every word, movement and facial expression. Rooster hated you, and that was the only way you could get close to him—the hatred—but now you've shattered that wall. 

He doesn't like me. I ruined whatever connection we had. Fuck that stupid mouth of mine. Why did I have to react so poorly both times? He's not mine. I want him to be mine. No. Yes. Fucking hell, this headache. Can't we go back to normal—our normal? That has been your train of thoughts for God knows how long, and it was seriously tiring you out.

"Everything will work out for you. Rooster is full of surprises," Phoenix responded reassuringly.

You looked at her weirdly. "What kind of fucking riddle is that? Have you lost your mind?"

She just laughed, sitting up. "Shut up. I know what I'm saying."

You were about to reply when the screech of the bunkroom door caught your attention. "Oh my God!" Fanboy shouted, closing the door again. "Am I interrupting something?" 

You snorted. "Have you never heard of knocking?" You yelled back.

"What are you doing on top of each other, man?" He sounded traumatised. You giggled.

"None of your business!"

"Whatever, man. I came in to tell you it's going to storm real hard soon. Prepare for a blackout."

"Okay, thanks!" You hear the shuffling of feet moving away from your door and groan.

Phoenix makes a move to stand up. As if she knows what you're thinking, she speaks up. "I'm not going."

"Oh, please, Nix! You know how much I hate it down there! Especially if it's storming out," you whine but to no avail.

"You're in the Navy, for Christ's sake. And it's a quick job. Go in, grab the clothes, and come back. I already put them in the dryer. You only have to fetch them."

You groan but get up as well, blindly searching for your phone and earbuds. If you were going in that dark, scary laundry room, you'd at least do it your way. And who's a better companion than Taylor Swift?

—

It was early in the evening when all lights shut off. The heater in your room stopped groaning, and you concluded that the expected blackout was happening now. Nix was sleeping in her bunk above you, and you sighed. You'd put off going to the laundry room in hopes of Natasha changing her mind, but there was no way you were getting out of it now.

You really didn't want to face Bradshaw, and there was a big chance you would in the hallways. Unfortunately for you, no one has invented time travel yet, so you're destined to bump into him at some point. You work together, for fuck's sake. It's impossible to ignore him forever.

So, you gather yourself, put a hoodie over your t-shirt with the nearest civilian shoes, and plug your earphones before pressing play on Taylor Swift and blindly find the door. The backup generator is up and running, for the hallway lights are on. 

A few people are conversing and leaning on their bedroom doors. Some greet you with a nod and a smile, and you shoot them one back, ducking your head so as not to be spotted by your friends—who are likely hanging out with Rooster.

You arrive at the laundry room and immediately get to work. There's no one else in here, and it's cold. You feel like a child, shivering in fear as if a ghost will pop up from a corner. The music is blasting, and you're grateful, for the eeriness of this place makes you jumpy. Fuck, it's so dark.

Unbeknownst to you, Bradley was also on laundry duty. He'd put it off as much as he could, even paying Hangman to do it once. He hated the silence in that freezing room and how far away it was from everyone.

So, here he was, trying to walk as quietly as possible; so no admiral ghosts pop up to scare him. Lucky for him, he only had to put them in the bin, press a few buttons and be out of there in seconds.

He's startled when he sees you. Well, he spots your back, but he knows it's you. The unmistakable Taylor Swift tune reaches his ears. Bradley leans against the doorframe, watching as you bop your head and slightly move your hips while you hum the lyrics. 

He chuckles. Your undying love for the singer was the cause for your callsign, although not many people knew that. You made up a story about how quick you're in the air—that's why people call you that. But he knows.

And he loves his knowledge over that little detail about you because it's so significant. Bradley loves memorising things about you—from how you struggle to french braid your hair to how you like Heineken beer more than Corona because you don't like the stupid connection it has to Fast and Furious.

I miss you. The words are on the tip of Rooster's lips, but he doesn't dare say them. He wanted to give you space and time to rethink your words because—surprise, surprise—he's been in love with you for God-knows-how long. And he wants you to love him back, truly, but he doesn't want to freak you out. So, he'll gladly settle with watching you dance to Taylor while trying to hide the fond smile taking over his features.

A loud crack of thunder startles the both of you. The place goes completely black. Bradley moves off the doorframe, but you drop the half-filled basket with a gasp. A soft fuck escapes your lips, and Bradley decides to close the distance between you and help.

His hands look for your waist, wanting to help you up. He hadn't thought about how isolated you were from the world. You don't have time to move away from the hands circling around you, and a yelp escapes your lips when you hit something solid. One earbud falls off in the process.

You fight to move away and swat the person—God, please let it be a person and not an actual fucking ghost—with a shirt. You cry for it to get away, but the arms find your waist again while the person hushes you.

Bradley. It's Bradley. He's holding you tightly, shushing you, and you gulp deep breaths, trying to calm down. Your heart beat fast from what has happened, and because holy shit, Bradley Bradshaw is holding you.

You have to move away—your skin is on fucking fire. So much for ignoring him.

You push him, turning on your phone's torch. "What the fuck, Bradshaw? I almost had a heart attack." You hit him with the shirt you're still holding.

"I didn't mean to scare you. I was here to do my laundry, but the lights went out." He leaves out the part where he watched you dance. "I heard your basket fall, and I wanted to help."

And suddenly, oxygen is no longer making its way to your lungs, and your whole body is tense. Bradley is right here, in front of you, staring at you with his hands on his hips. And he also knows how you really feel about him. He has to go now.

"You, uh, you can go do your thing," you stutter, pushing your hair out of your face, your eyes never finding his. "I'll finish this on my own."

"No." It's nothing but a statement. "I'm not leaving you all alone down here."

Your heart warms, and the corner of your mouth lifts oh-so-slightly.

"Aren't you doing your laundry?"

"Fuck that. I'll do it tomorrow."

"Alright." You get back to picking your clothes out of the bin.

The silence between you lies somewhere between tense and comfortable. You feel at ease with Rooster here, knowing that no harm will come to you before him, but you can't help but feel awkward since he knows about your feelings now. The lights turn back on, and you have to make your blush disappear before he notices.

You ignore how your stomach turns—butterflies and anxiety—and close the washing machine bin's door when you finish. Well, you at least try to. The door won't latch, making you look like an idiot pushing the washing machine for no reason.

"Here, let me help." Oh my fucking God.

Rooster is hovering above you now, his hand replacing yours. He pushes the machine's door hard, and you hear the satisfying click. 

You can feel his breath down your shoulder, but you try not to tense. Your head spins to him involuntarily, and your eyes meet his. Your eyes fall from his eyes to his lips, and he does the same. Oh my God. Does he want to kiss you?

Your question is answered three long seconds later by him crushing his soft lips onto yours. It's like how all those novels and poets describe it. Instant fireworks. Your body tingles, and your heart pounds so hard that you think it'll rip off your chest. His hand encircles your waist, and you tighten your hold around a random shirt.

He's doing this out of pity. And just like that, the dream you've had for God knows how long is shattered by your own thoughts. You have to pull away.

"W-We can't do this, Rooster."

Your eyes meet his as you touch your lips. They're tingling, scratch that, your whole body feels like it's been electrocuted. He looks hurt and confused as he pants a few feet away from you.

"Why?" It sounds so sad.

"B-Because you don't like me, Rooster. I know you hate me, but I don't want something I've dreamed of for so long to get destroyed because of your silly antics." You sound even sadder.

"Is that what you think?"

"It's not a thought, Bradshaw. I know it. I've seen it with my own eyes." Tears have gathered in your eyes. Fuck, those mood swings.

Bradley exhales deeply. "I don't hate you, Swift. Never in my life have I felt what I feel when I'm around you. I feel all hot and tingly when you walk past me. My cheeks burn like a kid when your comments involve my love life, because deep down, I want you to be the protagonist of my fantasies, not some random girl I met at the Hard Deck.

Your jokes and your talent, your wit and your beauty—I love them. Your charm and ability to persuade everyone into doing chores for you are my favourite. I love listening to you talk, sarcastically or not, because you always have something to say.

Do you know how many times I've eavesdropped on you and Phoenix so I could learn more about you? I know about your hatred for Fast and Furious movies, your obvious Taylor Swift adoration, and the one time you got hammered and thought you were talking to her. 

I love knowing all those details about you, and it's not because I can use them against you. They're what make you...well, you! You're nothing like the girls I've met in my life. You're extraordinary, and I..."

He hesitates.

"Is this...Did Natasha put you up to this? I swear I don't want your pity and fake love confessions, Bradley. You don't have to pretend to be in love with me—"

"But I am! I am madly in love with you. The kind of love that is so dangerous and—and so crushing. I want to be with you every second of the day, annoy you, and make you smile. It's all I've ever wanted for years now."

Your eyes are wide and glossy, eyebrows raised in shock and confusion, and so many emotions. 

"I love you, Swift," he confirms.

"Prove it." Your words are merely a whisper.

Despite the hard rain and thundering outside, your voice is the only melody in Bradley's ears. And he doesn't hesitate. He crushes his lips against yours again, this time with hunger, passion, frustration and love. You kiss back with just as much force, but before you know it, you're pulling back, gasping for breath.

Bradley's hands are cupping your cheeks, and his forehead is touching yours. Your breaths mingle as you stare up at him. Your fingers grip his shirt tightly. 

"Is that enough proof for you?" He whispers.

You lightly shrug. "I still haven't forgiven you for almost calling me a slut." That's a lie—you have. You forgave him as soon as your head hit the pillow yesterday. He didn't mean it.

He sighs a long, sad sigh. "Please, let me make it up to you. I was a—a jerk. A complete and utter idiot. I don't deserve your love, but please, I need it. Give me a chance to prove how much I love you." Your heart clenches, and a smile tugs at your lips. 

"You can make it up to me as long as you want, Bradley Bradshaw."

He smiles back, and you think; this is it. This is heaven on earth. Bradley Bradshaw—the man you've longed for so long—smiling at you with nothing but adoration. You're heart feels light and free.

You don't want the moment to end.

previous | next

—

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[1moreff-creator]

(02) Arturo Giles - First Trial (DRDT - Milgram AU)

Hey there! Back again with the AU, sorry this one took a bit, I’ve been busy. Anyways, today we have Arturo, with his VD Varicose Veins and his MV Wilting. It is pretty hard to write Arturo btw, I just hope he’s not too ooc. Anyways, attempt at a thumbnail!

I struggle a bit with what to do with the CWs, since I feel they can be a bit spoilery. What I'm doing for the moment is just putting warnings for stuff that explicitly happens in the MV and the VD, not things which are implied. If you think I should do something else, do tell me!

CW Hospitals and plastic surgery, angry confrontation, Arturo Giles (so intense prejudice based on appearance)

VD: Varicose Veins

*Footsteps*

Es: Hey the-!

Arturo: Ugh. Do I really have to be judged by someone this ugly?

E: … Excuse me?

A: Are you deaf? If you’re going to baselessly accuse me of being a murderer, and trap me inside a ridiculous prison filled with people so ugly I’d rather not breathe the same air as them, the least I was expecting is that you would be beautiful enough to justify it. 

E: …

A: And stupid. You really don’t have anything going for you, do you?

E: Okay, you know what? Let’s start over. *Shuffling* My name is Es! What’s yours?

A: Arturo Giles. Get your hand away from me, I wouldn’t shake it even if we were wearing three pairs of gloves each. 

E: *Deep breath* Alright. *Shuffling*Alright! Alright… It’s nice to meet you, Arturo! If you don’t mind, could you tell me a bit about why you seem so averse to… uh, what you call “ugly” people? It’s not nice to judge people on appearance, you know. 

A: Tch. *Whispering* As if I care about being “nice” to you. *Full volume* Anyone who interacts with as many ugly people as I have would understand why I cannot stand them.

E: What do you mean? How have you interacted with so many so-called ugly people if you despise them so much?

A: I’m a plastic surgeon. Do you know how many truly hideous people come to me regularly, asking me to fix their unsalvageable appearance? It’s only natural I would eventually start seeing every one of the masses’ imperfections. 

E: Uh, right. But that doesn’t answer the question. Why be so judgmental about something so superficial?

A: If given the option, would you rather spend your time with an ugly person, or a beautiful one?

E: That depends on who the people are. Appearance doesn’t have any weight on people’s worth.

A: Wow. You are either stupid, blind or delusional, maybe all three. Have you ever stepped outside? Ever tune in on the news? Looked at social media at all?

E: Not that I remember. 

A: Beca- Wait, what?

E: All I can remember is being the Warden of this prison.

A: ...

E: There’s books here, though!

A: …Alright, so maybe you’re just ignorant. Let me enlighten you. *Dreamy sigh* There’s a special type of people, the most successful, the most important people in the world, who are a marvel to look at. These are truly beautiful people! The ones who would only need me to enhance their splendor! The ones I actually want to operate on!

E: … *Sounds of someone struggling to form words* Okay, okay, so. Before, addressing… any of that. You do realize plenty of people have been successful without being conventionally attractive, yes?

A: And? Plenty of people have been struck by lightning, but you don’t see me staying inside just because of some rain.

E: *Pause, their voice grows frustrated* Even then, you do realize success doesn’t necessarily make someone a better person, right?

A: Ugh. It’s the same thing as before. Would you rather spend time with successful or unsuccessful people? With someone important or a complete nobody?

E: … Don’t- Don’t take this the wrong way, but do you know what a friend is, Arturo?

A: Tch. This is a waste of time. At this rate, I don’t think you’ll ever come to your senses. 

E: *Sigh* Right, sure. We just think way too differently.

A: Good. Are we done here now? 

E: Huh? No way! We still haven’t talked about the thing this interrogation is supposed to be about! 

A: *Groan* Are you serious? What is this even supposed to be about, then? 

E: The thing all of you are here for. The murder you committed. 

A: Hmph. Right, that nonsense. I'll have you know, I've never murdered anyone. I don’t know why you seem to think otherwise. 

E: Are you certain? Milgram considers you a murderer, and there is no doubt in my mind that is correct. 

A: I know my life far better than this mockery of a prison ever could. I haven’t done anything that could be considered murder, not a single thing. 

E: Are you certain? Do you mean to tell me you aren’t responsible for anyone’s death? I find that hard to believe from the mouth of one of Milgram’s prisoners.

A: No, I- I, well… *Whispering* I mean, there is... no, no, that wasn't my fault. That isn’t murder. 

E: Oh? Is something coming to mind?

A: I- Look. If- Let’s say something I did… led in some way to someone’s death. But I didn’t do anything, I never wanted them to die. That doesn’t count as murder. Right?

E: In the eyes of Milgram, perhaps it could. 

A: Hk- Are you serious?! This is ridiculous! I never laid a hand on her, you have no right to call me a killer!

E: Her? This doesn’t sound like a hypothetical anymore, Arturo. 

A: Agh! Ugh, you little-!

*Chair sliding, a thump, mystical noises*

A: Huh?!

E: Oh… wow. I didn’t know that was a thing! I guess prisoners can’t attack the Warden. 

A: Really? I guess you feel confident behind this stupid… barrier thing! But that still doesn’t make you right! Her death is not my fault! If you were in my place, you would have done the same!

E: Can I ask who you’re talking about? 

A: That’s… irrelevant, you nosy parasite!

E: *Sigh* Look, Arturo. I’m sorry if it upsets you, but we need to talk about this in more detail. It’s for your own good! If whatever happened really isn’t your fault, then I’m sure I’ll… I’ll…

A: You’ll Forgive me, right? That’s-

E: ... You really are presumptuous, Zero Two. Milgram has deigned you a killer, and thus there is no doubt in my mind you hold some responsibility for your murder. 

A: Are you serious?! I’m telling you, I didn’t do anything wrong!

E: You make me laugh. Do you really think I will Forgive any prisoner who asks for it? You’re delusional. 

A: !

E: As the Warden, my verdict is mine to make. Your opinion makes no difference. Withholding information will not help you either; I will learn the full extent of your sin, whether you want it or not. 

A: What’s with this sudden change in attitude?

E: As if you have any right to complain about that, Zero Two. 

*Machinery whirs*

A: Huh?!

E: The time has come. Any other comments, sinner?

A: Yeah. Whoever you are, you’re ugly, too. 

E: I will take your words into consideration. 

A: …

E: I have considered them and determined I don’t give a shit. 

A: Gah!-

E: Prisoner 02, Arturo Giles, sing your sins!

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Trial 1 Cover: Paradise by QueenPB

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Music Video: Wilting

(By the way, I hope I'm not horrendously misusing all these medical terms. I literally got them out of glossaries for plastic surgery lol)

[The song starts slow, with sparse instrumentals, then gets more energetic. The instrumental throughout is a pretty standard synth pop song, it sounds sorta wistful]

A solemn duty to fulfill my dream. A life of beauty hanging just out of reach. (I)  Attempts are filed yet I can’t succeed. (II) And all the while my patience wilts (III) It’s wilting (IV)

(I) The video opens on a shot of a bouquet of flowers on a yellow background with a pattern of orange circles. The bouquet has red roses, purple orchids, and pink tulips. 

The camera slowly pans out, revealing the image is being displayed on a TV screen. It switches to another bouquet, this one on a dark blue and green striped background, with purple zinnias, gloxinias and pink camellias. Behind the TV, thorn bushes fill the background.

For reference, this is sorta what I'm talking about, except imagine it brown instead of green.

(II) The shot turns around to show Arturo, sitting cross-legged on a couch and watching the TV with half-lidded eyes. He’s wearing a dark blue long sleeve shirt, which has black stripes around the chest area. He’s also wearing the canon surgical gloves, grey pants and a black face mask covering his mouth. He’s slightly hunched over, and on his left hand, he’s holding an orange amaryllis flower. The background is again filled by thorn bushes.

(III) The shot changes to look at Arturo from the side, but he’s out of focus at first. Instead, the camera is focused on a flower pot on the couch beside him. It has these flowers:

(Flower names in alt text)

The sunflower is facing Arturo. After a moment, the camera focuses on Arturo as he leans down and puts his right hand on his face, appearing exhausted. 

(IV) We zoom in on the orange amaryllis Arturo is holding, and after the line is said, a single petal falls off. 

[Instrumental. Somewhat slow, synth sound. Very artificial]

The petal flutters down, as the background brightens and turns into the hospital corridor from the thumbnail, except upside down. The camera flips, so now the corridor is upright and it looks like the petal is going up, until it leaves the view of the camera. That’s when we see the thumbnail image. 

Through the day and night, through life’s ugly swamp, (I) the beauty I deserve, (II) no one can satisfy… (III)

(I) We get a side view of Arturo as he walks forward. The corridor is still filled with weeds and vines, which grow thicker as he walks. We see him move past a grey set of double doors, then a sign showing fire escape routes, until he finally arrives at another set of double doors. He turns to it. 

(II) We get a close up of Arturo grabbing the doorknob. 

(III) The door is now open, we get a side shot of Arturo standing in the doorway, staring down at a hospital bed with a big pile of grass and algae resting on it. The room is very dark aside from the light from the corridor, shining on Arturo’s back. There are multiple weeds and vines hanging around the walls, which partly cover a mirror on the wall.

Hideous, face the facts, I won’t change my mind, (I) No matter what I try,  It’s ugly all throughout… (II)

(I) A few close-ups of Arturo cutting up the grass with a scalpel, and removing the algae from the bed. 

(II) Taking a step back, we see the pile of grass has turned into a vaguely human shaped bush, with a dandelion flower crown. 

[Pre-chorus, the music speeds up a bit]

Abid to my discretion (I) And appeal to my “obssession” (II) Will not settle for corrections  When I only seek perfection, no! (III)

(I) We cut to Arturo frowning while still looking down at the bed.

(II) He throws his arm out, basically slapping the air, and the greenery goes flying off the bed. 

(III) A side profile of Arturo’s angry face, and the shot focuses on the mirror to his side, still covered in vines. The reflection is upside down, and shows the same thorn bushes background at the start, as well as Arturo staring at the Arturo in the hospital room, wearing the same clothes he was wearing in the beginning, and still holding the orange amaryllis. The camera flips upside down as “no!” is sung. 

A solemn duty to fulfill my dream. (I) A life of beauty hanging just out of reach. (II) Attempts are filed yet I can’t succeed.  And all the while my patience wilts (III) It’s wilting (IV)

(I) Back at the room with the thorn bushes, Arturo is still staring at "us". The screen “blinks”.

(II) We see this, except it's behind a bunch of thorn bushes.

(Flower names in alt text)

(III) Arturo grabs one of the thorny branches and moves it a bit to see the flowers better. We see his face, and he’s frowning.

(IV) He startles and looks down.

For obsolescence, bring forth novel things. (I) Break down the essence like a chemical peel. (II) Macular stains which ought to be fixed. (III) Replace epidermis ‘til the hideousness wilts (IV) It’s wilting (V)

(I) We zoom in on the flower pot from the beginning, the one with the sunflower. It’s now on the floor, the forget-me-nots wrapped around Arturo's ankle. The sunflower is facing up at Arturo. He’s wearing simple black dress shoes. 

(II) Back at Arturo’s face. He’s looking down with narrowed eyes. 

(III) Arturo kicks the pot, a few of the petals of the flowers scatter around. The sunflower still faces Arturo.

(IV) A forget-me-not petal flutters down, falling into a puddle of water. The reflection shows the hospital corridor. The petal lingers on the surface.

(V) The screen glitches for a moment. Right after the words, the camera flips and brightens, and now we’re staring at the floor of the hospital corridor. The petal is still resting on top of a puddle of water, but now the reflection shows the room with the thorn bushes. 

[A bit of instrumental]

The shot lingers on the petal on the water, before Arturo’s foot steps on it as he walks. 

An ugly truth indeed, the life I’m forced to live. (I) A simple wish to flee,  now is it wrong to dream? (II)

(I) Now in his canon clothes again, Arturo walks through the hospital. We see his feet as he trudges through a large amount of weeds. He stops.

(II) A close up of the fire escape sign from before. There is a bouquet of red roses under the section marked ‘EXIT’.

Boiling varicose,  a neoplasmic growth. (I) Yearning in my soul, will I ever know control? (II)

(I) We see the back of Arturo’s head, and his gloved hand touches the bouquet on the sign. 

(II) We get a side shot of him, still with his hand on the sign. The background is pure white. Arturo pulls his hand away, turns to the white background, and startles. 

[Pre-chorus]

A full manifestation of intradermal intentions (I) Will not settle for corrections When I only seek perfection, no! (II)

(I) We see the end of the hallway, an open double door with ‘EXIT’ written on top of it. On top of a blinding white background, we see a table, on top of which rests a bouquet of pink camellias and red roses. 

(II) Back to Arturo’s feet (I hate myself for writing that sentence), he’s still for a moment, before he starts slowly making steps forward. The steps soon turn into a full sprint. Right on the last word, Arturo steps on a puddle of water, the reflection of which shows thorn bushes, and the camera flips with a flash. 

A solemn duty to fulfill my dream. (I) A life of beauty hanging just out of reach. (II) Attempts are filed yet I can’t succeed. (III) And all the while my patience wilts (IV) It’s wilting (V)

(I) Back at the thorn bushes room, you know which clothes Arturo is wearing. He’s on his knees, leaning down to look at a puddle of water, the reflection of which shows the hospital. The orange amaryllis is off to the side, and he’s crushing it with his palm. His eyes are wide and they almost seem to sparkle, fascinated by what he sees. 

(II) He leans down further, putting his face closer to the water.

(III) He startles, sits with his legs away from the puddle, and looks behind him. The flower pot with the sunflower is there again, though a few of the flowers’ petals are noticeably gone. Once again the forget-me-nots are holding onto Arturo’s ankle. The sunflower still faces Arturo. 

(IV) Back to Arturo’s face, and he frowns. 

(V) With his free leg, he kicks the pot again. Petals go flying again. Even as it flies back, the sunflower still faces Arturo. 

For obsolescence, bring forth novel things. (I) Break down the essence like a chemical peel. (II) Macular stains which ought to be fixed. (III) Replace epidermis ‘til the hideousness wilts (IV) It’s wilting (V)

(I) Arturo stands up and grabs onto the thorn bushes. 

(II) He begins to push past them, moving the branches out of the way and crouching down to pass. 

(III) Back at the floor, the fallen over sunflower is still staring up at Arturo.The other flowers are out of frame, but the forget-me-nots are still tied around Arturo’s ankle. Arturo lifts his foot to walk away, ripping it free from the forget-me-nots with ease. 

(IV) We focus on Arturo’s chest as he gets out of the thorn bushes on the other side.

(V) We see the bird of paradise (flower) from before. Arturo is staring at it, with gleeful eyes.

[Y’all motherfuckers want a key change?! (/reference)]

May my future justify the past (I) Lest the stretch marks spread way too far! (II) Where once was darkness, now hope for the bright (III) Since old spotlights always wilt too fast (IV) They’ve wilted (V)

(I) Screen glitches, and now we’re in the hospital EXIT from before. Arturo grabs for the flower bouquet, but it turns to smoke when his hand reaches it. We see Arturo look surprised at this development.

(II) Screen glitches again, and we’re back at the thorn bushes outfit., although the thorn bushes are still behind Arturo. He still has his hand out as if trying to grab the bouquet which has disappeared. He looks up.

(III) We see Arturo reach out as the bird of paradise and milkweeds begin moving away from him. 

(IV) The camera positioned in between the thorn bushes, we see the back of Arturo’s head. He turns around, and his expression turns from surprised to horrified. 

(V) We see the sunflower set of flowers again, but they’re all completely withered and shriveled up. 

[End]

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

MonoTV: Fun fact! Red carnations are an official symbol of Doctor’s Day!

Es: Oh? That’s kinda cool. 

M: So why the hell isn’t this guy represented by red carnations?! I say you should vote him Unforgiven just because of idiotic symbolism!

E: I mean, do you really think a flower representing love and devotion really fits that guy? 

M: … Shut up! You’re not allowed to make sense!

E: ???

M: Anyways, forget all that! It’s… 

VOTING TIME!!!

[theycallmequeenie]

A Very Happy Christmas

A/N: Sorry, this has taken me so long to write. It’s been a chaotic week or so. My mother has kept me busy working on making this a good Christmas for my nephew and I guess trying to keep our minds off this being our first Christmas without my grandmother, her mother. So yeah, finally got some time to myself that I can sit and focus on writing. Hope you enjoy this one.  

With love, Queenie.

Warning: This will contain terribly written smut that will most likely be out of character for our cherished Happy. Please proceed with caution. There will be talk of unprotected intercourse in this fic. Please always wrap it before you tap it, unless you are in a committed relationship and KNOW beyond a shadow of a doubt both consenting parties are clean. This ends my PSA portion of this warning.  (Hopefully this will get me comfortable with writing smut for this character so it can be included in one of the Lexie and Happy chapters.)

Master List

Y/N had had a hard year. She ended up moving into a small California town that reminded her of ‘Mainstreet America’. It was almost all family owned and operated everything except for the police station, which was run by the county, and the local garage, that was run by the town’s motorcycle club, the Sons of Anarchy.

It was early spring when Y/N moved into her small home in the quiet town. As she was settling herself in her new hometown, she would occasionally bump into the members of the MC here and there. She would always offer each member a kind smile and she would usually receive a nod in return from each man.

It had been eight weeks since moving in that Y/N was nose deep in her grocery list and not paying attention when she literally ran into one of the leather clad men. On instinct she automatically starts apologizing before even looking up to see which one she had run into. Fortunately for Y/N, she had run into one of the friendlier men who introduced himself as Tig.

Tig did his best to calm the stammering and flustered Y/N down as she had heard enough from the other townsfolk to know what the Sons were and had been told by most to avoid their bad side. After many failed subtle attempts to calm her he finally out of desperation raised his voice to her and clapped a firm hand on her shoulder.

“Doll! Look it’s okay really. I get it, we were both in our own little world instead of paying attention to the world around us. If you are that upset and intent on making it up to me, why don’t you come out to TM tonight for a party. We always enjoy having a pretty face around…”

Y/N blushed at his invitation and tried to refuse saying she didn’t really belong there, but Tig ended up insisting and ultimately winning out. He offered her a smile and a wink before going on his way.

Later Y/N was in her home getting ready for what she expected to be an uncomfortable evening of being a wall flower at a MC party. Questioning why she even let the blue-eyed man talk her into going in the first place. She sighed to herself, shook her head as she finished dressing, and got ready to go.

Y/N went to the party at the clubhouse and surprisingly enjoyed herself she got to know some of the members and was invited back for the next party at the clubhouse to which she willingly agreed and attended.

This became Y/N’s weekly routine for several weeks, from late spring into the summer and into the early fall. In the early fall she was asked to start working in the office of the garage when the woman who had been working quit leaving the club in a bind.

This led to Y/N spending every day and most evenings including the Friday night parties, which she started spending talking to some of the members she had become friends with mainly Tig and another member called Chibs who was the President of the club, who enjoyed telling her the history of the club, or as much of it as he could tell an outsider at least.

Some more weeks pass and before everyone knows it it’s the Friday before Christmas and everyone was rushing around the garage trying to complete last minute plans and things before that night’s party. Y/N had been in the office until late in the evening, focused on the paperwork that needed to be finished not noticing the club’s festivities had already begun around her. Nor had she noticed the club Sargent at Arms slipping quietly into the office to see why she had yet to join them.

Happy Lowman was a quiet man in nature, he was more actions than words type. He knew that Y/N was alone in the world and that’s why she had moved to Charming. To get away from all those memories. Happy did his best to keep his distance from her as he didn’t want to complicate things for either of them, but the few times he had gotten close to her he could almost feel the sadness that rolled off her. And while he was told on many occasions that he was heartless; it wasn’t true and being around Y/N proved it to him and every other person who saw them interact.

Happy was concerned when he had noticed that Y/N wasn’t partying with the rest of the club and it’s hang-arounds, he was secretly relieved to see that she had let herself get engulfed in the paperwork in the Teller-Marrow office. He had feared she had snuck away to her lonely little home to avoid all the ruckus that was going on across the clubhouse.

He stood for a few moments waiting to see if Y/N would notice him on her own, he didn’t want to startle her, but she wasn’t looking up or paying attention to anything but the forms in front of her. He stood a few steps away from her desk and gently cleared his throat with a soft growl before tapping lightly on the desk.

Y/N jumped lightly at the unexpected sound but on realize who the sound came from she offered up a small, sad smile, “Oh, Hap I’m sorry I didn’t notice you come in. I guess I got too engrossed in this mess…”  Y/N gestured to pile of papers on the desk. Y/N did everything she could to ignore the little flutter in her chest, thinking it was from him startling her, not just him.

“I noticed.” He replied in his gruff tone but offered her a half smile to show her he was joking before perching himself on the edge of the desk next to her making sure to keep her undivided attention. “I noticed you weren’t at the party and got worried. I thought you skipped out on us this week.” He frowned gently as he finished his statement, the thought of her being alone in general didn’t sit right with him.

Y/N shook her head, “No haven’t skipped out yet, I wanted to get this all taken care of before I left for the night.” For some reason her voice was softer than normal, and she wasn’t sure why.

Hearing her all but admit she wasn’t planning on joining them for their party tonight upset Happy and in response he instinctively stiffened and pulled away from her form a moment getting up to stomp around the office pacing trying to form an argument that would convince her to stay with the club, with him tonight.

“So, you were planning on leaving without going to the clubhouse tonight. You tired of us already, Y/N?” he tried to hide his face from her as he spoke, he knew it had to be contorting in anger. Or at least he thought it was anger because he was definitely not hurt at the thought of her wanting to be alone instead of with the club or him. He almost rolled his eyes at himself for thinking like this

Y/N frowned and shook her head, “Hap, I’m not in the right headspace for all of that tonight.” She paused and gestured toward the clubhouse. “Those people in there want to have a good time and they want to have fun and well Tig is in that mix, so you know at least one of them wants sex.” She chuckled dryly and is joined by Happy who knows his brother all too well. “Happy, I just don’t want to bring any of them down, including you. I’m not in a people friendly mood.”

This time Happy growled louder this time, and his annoyance showed not only in his growling but on his face too. Y/N noticed his expression on his face and tensed up, which he noticed and started mentally kicking himself. The last thing he wanted was her on the defensive.

Standing Y/N rested her hands on the edge of the desk, “Look Happy, I don’t know what you want…”

Before Y/n could complete the thought Happy closed the space between them and backed Y/N against the wall of the small office, boxing her in with his strong tan arms. His horse voice harsh but quiet enough for only Y/N to hear, “You.”

Y/N looked up at Happy, eyes wide from the surprise of his confession. “Hap….”

Happy didn’t let her speak further, before she knew it his lips were on hers and his tongue was making its way into her mouth to dance with her tongue. Y/N placed her hands on his chest not to stop him, instead seeking another point of contact, Happy took an arm and placed it around her waist pulling her flush against him. He lets out a possessive growl as he kisses down her neck. And slips his hand under Y/N’s shirt wanting skin to skin contact resting his hand in the small of her back and gently started directing her toward the couch that was against the wall of the office.

Y/N started to lightly push against his chest, wanting him to pause his actions only momentarily.

Happy took a step back with an almost hurt expression flashing across his face and he watched hers for a clue as to why she would stop him.

As she caught her breath her cheeks flushed and her voice shook, “Hap, as much as I am all for this,” she paused to gesture between the both of them, “to happen… Could it maybe not happen here in the office? I’m not really an exhibitionist and I’d prefer to not have your brothers walk in on us in the act, so to speak….”

Y/N watched Happy, knowing he wasn’t a man of many words hoping he would vocalize a response and not just storm off like she had witnessed him do in the garage prior to the moment. He had no plans on storming off this time.

Happy cleared his throat, “So you’re not saying, ‘No, stop completely’ you’re saying, ‘No, not here’, correct?” Happy watched Y/N closely for any hint of hesitation when she responded. There was none when she nodded confirming his thought process. He spoke again, “And you aren’t saying ‘no not now’ right?” Again, he searched her face and again she nodded. This time he nodded and looked at her with a smirk on his face, paused for only a second, scooped her up throwing her over his shoulder. Giving her a quick playful sway across her bottom as she protested his method of moving this to another location and carried her off to his dorm in the club house.

As he walked through the door of the clubhouse everyone stopped and looked to see who Happy had over his shoulder and carrying away like a Viking with his war prize. Those partying shared hoots and hollers which only made Y/N blush and tell Happy that this was not exactly what she meant when she said she wanted a change of atmosphere for what he had in mind.

Once they reached Hap’s dorm, he put her down and kicked the door shut behind him. Backing Y/N toward the bed he shrugged off his Cut off and laid it on the dresser in the room and kicked off his boots before turning his attentions back to Y/N.

He started kissing her again, this time he started working on removing Y/n’s clothes as she worked on removing his. Her shirt was removed and then his. He unbuttoned her pants, and she unbuckled his belt. They separated long enough to each remove their jeans. They both took a step back to admire the sight of each other almost naked.  Y/N’s eyes widened at the hardening shape in Happy’s boxers and Happy smirked at Y/N’s Tiffany Blue Lace bra and panty set. Happy usually preferred his women in black but this shade of blue with Y/N’s skin tone might have just become his new favorite.

Licking his lips, he closed the space again with a smirk on his face as he started murmuring in Y/N’s ear asking her if she liked what she saw and telling her that she hasn’t seen anything yet. Before Y/n knows it, her bra has been unhooked and tossed to the side and Happy has his right hand on one of her breasts as Y/N ran a hesitant hand down Happy’s torso stopping at the waist band of his boxers.

Happy chuckled at her hesitation as he traced a finger across the waistband of her panties just lightly enough for his touch to tickle as he leaned into her ear to whisper to her, “It’s not gonna bite you, Little Girl.” He slipped his finger past the thin band of elastic that held her panties in place and into her slick fold to finding his target with ease rubbing her excited nub teasingly.

As Happy teased, Y/N went from feeling his torso to holding onto his arm for support to stay upright. Letting out a little gasp she felt her knees finally give out and buckle. Before she could drop Happy’s lightening quick reflexes had her on the bed safely and resumed teasing her, rubbing her nub, and working her into a frenzy. He watched her reach the edge and started murmuring to her again encouraging her to allow herself to fall over the edge into oblivion.

He upped his tactics and sent her over into bliss. He watched her through half hooded eyes as she came down from her orgasm, grinning to himself he removed her panties and then his boxers.

Y/N repositioned herself and looked up at him as he stood stark naked before her and opened her mouth preparing to take his length into her mouth, to take care of him but he stopped her. Telling her that there would be plenty of time for that later. He needed to feel her wrapped around him. As he stroked himself a few times as she lay back spreading her legs readying herself for what she knew was going to be the best sex of her life.

As he climbed on the bed, he positioned himself between her legs, stretching his long slender frame over her body so that he was face to face with her. Lining himself up at her wet core he asks if she’s ready for him waiting till he sees her nod, he leans down and gives her a deep kiss as he starts to thrust into her.

He was fully seated inside her in a few thrusts. She felt better than he had imagined, letting out a low growl and pausing to steady himself as well as giving Y/N time to adjust to his size. Y/N places her hands along Happy’s ribs and wiggles her hips to entice him to start moving again to which he obliges and starts off slow, increasing his pace evenly, kissing and watching Y/N’s face for cues when to speed up or change the angle. As he feels her close to that edge again, he starts talking to her telling her how gorgeous she looks coming undone underneath him and how good she feels around him.

After she peaks again and as she’s coming down from her high, he withdraws from her and flips her over onto her stomach, telling her to raise her hips. Once she was ready, he reentered her thrusting this time to reach his high. He starts off with a bruising grip on Y/N’s hips and a rough pace. As he chases his high, he moves a hand to her hair as she closes in on her next peak, she begs him to get rougher with her. He obliges out of instinct as he feels his own finish drawing near. As he feels himself drawing near his high, he mutters the curtesy ‘I’m close’ and receives encouragement from Y/N that mirrored what he gave her.

Happy roared to a finish deep inside of Y/N as she crested her own peak for the third time. Happy pulled out of Y/N spent and laid beside her on the bed, placing an arm over her when she tried to get up and leave. All he muttered was a gravely, “Stay…”

Y/N looked over her shoulder at Happy with a look of surprise, “But I thought….” Y/N stopped short with her words after seeing Happy’s face. His expression surprised her as it was outside of his normal gruff expressionless exterior. She could have almost mistaken it for adoration.

Happy shook his head and reached for Y/N’s hand, taking it in his, “Not with you, you I want to stay.” Letting go of her hand he took hold of the flat sheet that was on the bed and held it up silently inviting Y/N to climb in under it with him. “Please…”

Y/N sighed and nodded quickly before sliding in beside him. Happy laid the sheet over her, pulled her close and draped an arm over her abdomen. Holding her tight to him she spoke tenderly, “Hap, you planning on this being a serious thing? You wanting to keep me or something?”

Happy smiled at her and snuggled up a little closer to her, “If you’ll let me, Little Girl. I’d like this to be a serious kinda thing…” He paused waiting to see if Y/N made any attempts to stop him or turn him down, but she didn’t, so he continued, “Merry Christmas, Little Girl.”

The End

A/N part 2: I just want to apologize for how terribly that smut session was written I am not yet a proficient smut author and am still very awkward with the whole organizing of the smut scene. This is something I am still sorta new at and as much smut as I have read over the years you would think I’d have pick up a thing or two from those novels and fics. But if you’ve made it this far, I want to say Thank you for tolerating the terrible attempt you just read. I know if I write it more, I will improve and I am hoping to write more in the future. Much love, Queenie!

@darqchilddaydreamz​  @lady-telford​

[bitchymanlet]

Safety Net

Chapter 1: The Plan

🔞MINORS DO NOT INTERACT🔞

Pairing: Levi x Fem!OC; Sub!Levi x Domme!OC

Tags/Content Warnings: canon compliant; problematic; pregnancy; baby trapping; porn with plot; explicit sex; angst; obsession; jealousy; age gap (both are adults); losing virginity; secret relationship; power imbalance; superior and subordinate romance; D/s dynamic; BDSM (FYI, these tags cover the overall story. No sex or kink in this chapter.)

Word Count: 2,491

Summary: Ambitious Scout Emmy Bohn, member of the elite Captain Levi's Special Operations Squad, finally brings her dream to fruition by means of deceiving the one who she holds most dear, her own Captain. However, it's not all smooth sailing from there. She must grapple with the possibility that the life of peace she's meticulously crafted in her mind over the years—the control that she so desperately craves—may always be a mere fantasy.

A/N: This is my first fanfic I've ever published. Hope you enjoy.

Levi shuffled into the Commander’s office with a despondent look etched onto his stony-face. He kept some distance between himself and Erwin’s desk, yet far enough away from the door to prevent anyone outside from eavesdropping.

“Levi.” Erwin perked up, giving the Captain his full attention.

Levi rips off the bandaid. “I’m in deep shit, Erwin... Emmy’s pregnant,” he paused, putting his hands on his hips and sighing, “and it’s mine.”

Erwin eyeballed Levi, waiting for an elaboration. “Care to explain?”

“It’s been so long since you got laid that you forgot how pregnancy works? We had sex.”

Erwin shut his eyes and released a long, weary sigh. “You’re not making my job any easier, Levi.”

“Sorry for the inconvenience,” Levi deadpanned.

Erwin stared at nothing as he put on his signature thinking face.

Levi spoke up, “Nobody knows. Except for Dr. Sieger at the infirmary. Emmy just found out today and came straight to me with the news. So…” Levi shrugged, crossing his arms. “Any ideas?”

Erwin thought about it. If the doctor had confirmed it, then there’s little chance that she’s lying about her pregnancy. Nor would it be feasible to assume the doctor would tell anyone, that’s a small relief to Erwin at least, since Dr. Sieger is under oath to keep patients’ medical confidentiality.

“There’s no certainty that the child is yours.”

Levi scowled. “Are you really suggesting that Emmy, the one without so much as a speck of dirt on her record, is actually a slut?”

“You cannot be certain that there is no possibility for her to have gotten pregnant from someone else.”

Levi’s scowl faltered slightly. He had only slept with Emmy once, and in that single time he had worn a condom. Shit happens, a broken condom isn’t unheard of. Sure, there was a possibility that Emmy could’ve seen someone else around that time… He scoffed at such a bullshit notion. She was a virgin right up until they had done the deed. But that’s none of Erwin’s business.

“You know Emmy’s reputation. And you know damn well how easily word gets around. Petra is Emmy’s bunkmate, she’s got the bottom bunk and she’s a light sleeper. If Emmy snuck off to go fuck somebody, Petra would’ve found out, and she couldn’t keep it secret–that girl wears her heart on her sleeve.” Levi glanced off to the side. “There’s no doubt about it… it’s mine.”

Erwin stared at Levi. “By your logic, Petra would know about Emmy sneaking off to see you. She could be a witness.”

“Petra doesn’t know because Emmy didn’t sneak off. I gave Emmy a late night assignment… As far as Petra knows, Emmy was busy following orders,” Levi muttered.

Erwin folded his hands together over his desk. “This was no accident, I see. This was premeditated.” He nodded, gazing at his hands before looking at Levi. “You realize that fraternization is prohibited? This is grounds for dishonorable discharge.”

“I’m well aware,” Levi answered dryly. “What’s the point in telling me this? You’re gonna give us the boot? Okay, thanks for dragging me out of that shithole, my six years as a Scout have been a blast, good luck with saving humanity, Commander.”

Erwin let out a wry chuckle. “You know that I would never give you the boot. Emmy is another story…”

Erwin considered the possible outcomes. If the child was indeed Levi’s, according to the military code, that would mean both Levi and Emmy would have to be dishonorably discharged. Booting Humanity’s Strongest Soldier from the Survey Corps would be shooting himself in the foot at best and damning the fate of humanity at worst. Although, if he kept their affair under wraps, Emmy’s pregnancy would eventually become a problem. He wasn’t so much of a monster that he would put a pregnant soldier on the front lines. Emmy is a very capable soldier in her own right, but so were many others. Nor could he make her take the fall for this either–it would ruin her.

“Her squadmates are aware that she is sick,” Erwin said. “I could formally put down that she has contracted a severe ailment and give her medical leave. Perhaps it was a flare up from some chronic illness that she had under control, until now. She can return at her own discretion.”

“Beats a dishonorable discharge, but… then she’d have to report for duty after her leave. What about the kid? She doesn’t have a family to take care of it, they're all dead,” Levi said in agitation.

“Then her duty won’t be on the field. She could transfer to office work, again, on the grounds of her documented chronic illness.”

“Then who would take care of the kid?”

Erwin narrowed his eyes. “Why don’t we ask her?” He stood up from his desk with an air of nonchalance. “Bring her here.”

Levi clenched his jaw and left to fetch his pregnant subordinate.

~~

When Emmy entered the Commander’s office, none other than Commander Erwin himself was seated on his small, professional-looking sofa.

“Hello, Emmy. Have a seat.” Erwin gestured for her to sit on the other side of his sofa.

Emmy stood frozen in place while Levi walked past her and plopped down in a chair.

She quickly nodded. “Yes, sir,” she said, quiet as a mouse, then she rushed to the sofa and sat down.

She held her trembling hands together on her lap. It wasn’t often that she had the chance to speak directly to Commander Erwin. Despite only having eyes for the Captain, even she couldn’t resist his charming aura.

But she had to keep it together. This is the moment of truth. She cannot screw this up.

“How are you feeling?” Erwin asked in a low tone of voice.

She cleared her throat. “Uh-I-I’m, uh, fine… sir.” She didn’t have to act here. Her anxiety was so real, her voice went up an octave higher without even trying. She gulped, hoping she wouldn’t throw up all over his nice rug.

“Captain Levi told me the news; that you are with child. Congratulations.”

Emmy glanced at Levi, who had a somber look in his eyes. She then lowered her head, saying nothing.

“Perhaps a ‘congratulations’ is not very appropriate, for the circumstances in which you find yourself are anything but.”

Emmy bit her quivering lower lip. She let out a whisper of a noise, trying to find the courage to speak. This was supposed to be the easiest part, yet here she is, all choked up in the Commander’s office like she’d just seen a titan for the first time.

“Nevertheless, I haven’t summoned you here for a reprimanding. I must ask you, what course of action would you prefer for yourself? I suggested that I give you a medical leave for your chronic illness, and that once you have recovered, you may return to do office work. Captain Levi, however, doesn’t like this plan.”

Emmy lifted her head up, widening her eyes at Erwin.

“I’m not getting punished?” Emmy’s high-pitched voice shook.

“No. This is… a special case, let’s call it that. Now, your thoughts?”

Her heart raced in her burning chest, in any moment her stomach acid could come up, further stripping her of her dignity before her two heroes. How she loathed making herself appear meek. Subordination was one thing, for she would gladly accept the command of a worthy leader. Meekness made her stomach twist in knots.

This is just a means to an end, she reminded herself, fidgeting with her hands all the while Erwin’s and Levi’s eyes locked on her.

Her eyes filled with tears. “I… worked so hard to get to where I am, sir,” her voice cracked, and she blinked her tears free. “To think that… after all this time, my-my career is…” She hiccuped, her voice caught in her throat.

Levi stepped up to her, pulling his handkerchief out from his breast pocket and handing it to her before retreating back to his chair, draping his left arm over the back.

Emmy whined at the kind gesture, her Captain always did have a keen sense of compassion. She gingerly wiped her tears on Levi’s divine handkerchief, almost as soft and silky as his skin. What a shame that her nose was too snotty to be able to smell it.

How despicable this was, and she knew it. After all the times she had been praised for her diligence; for her bravery, even from her beloved Captain Levi.

“I’m not fighting for humanity anymore…”

She never fought for humanity. She fought for herself. For this one goal.

“I’ll just be a mom,” Emmy heaved. “If I did office work, then there wouldn’t be anyone to care for my baby... My family died in the Titan invasion of Shiganshina five years ago!”

“Levi told me the same." Erwin’s eyes bore into her own with intensity, she hadn’t even noticed him blink yet. "What should we do instead, Emmy?”

She blew her nose into the Captain’s handkerchief, sullying the precious thing with her filth.

“Maybe… a medical discharge would be most ideal…?” her voice cracked.

Erwin quirked an eyebrow, and Levi leant forward in his chair.

“A medical discharge?” Erwin broke his gaze away from Emmy for a brief moment as he sat up straight and tilted his head. He then looked at Levi.

“That way,” she continued, “I could stay home to raise my and Captain Levi’s child, without being called into duty,” Emmy said in a lower tone, closer to her natural speaking voice.

The room fell silent. Emmy clutched Levi's soiled handkerchief, her eyebrows knit in worry. This was it. All the Commander had to do was approve. If he doesn’t, then these past five years would have been for nothing.

She would rather kill herself than succumb to a titan. If she had no control over how she could live her life, then at the very least she could control how she would die.

“Emmy… Do you love Levi?”

“Why the fuck would you ask her that?” Levi’s expression twisted into a grimace.

“Well, I’m curious.” Erwin glanced at Levi before turning his body over to Emmy, staring into her eyes again. “Why not one of your fellow squadmates with whom you spend more time in the day getting intimately involved? Why Levi, your superior officer?”

Levi gripped the back of his chair.

Being asked that so suddenly brought on a wave of heat over Emmy. She had a lot to be ashamed of, but there was no shame in loving the man who gave her a purpose for living. If this would help to convince the Commander of going along with her plan, then so be it.

Her breath hitched, her face flushing as she raised her shoulder in a bashful manner. “I do. I am in love with my Captain, sir. I have a close relationship with each of my squadmates, and I do care for them deeply, but the Captain…�� Emmy continued with her shaky voice, “There’s no one in the walls who I admire more...”

She winced, dropping her head in embarrassment at admitting this to the both of them, and her eyes had again filled with tears as she bit into her stupid quivering lip. Her stomach gurgled in the silence.

Levi squinted his eyes; a pained, sympathetic look to his face. He’s heard her say it before, but now, he can’t quite shake it off as easily as he once had. This crush of hers that he foolishly fed into led to all of this. He can’t shake off the fact that he’s going to be a father. Father to a child growing inside of his most dedicated subordinate who will lose the career she fought tooth and nail to attain, all because he didn’t keep it in his pants.

Erwin scrutinized her reaction for an uncomfortable length of time.

“Very well, you shall have your medical discharge. Consider this matter settled.”

Emmy released a puff of air as Erwin stood up from his sofa and went over to his desk. “You’ll get lump sum payments for the two years you have spent in active duty. No retirement benefits, I’m afraid, but name one Scout with that privilege.”

Erwin opened one of his drawers and looked through his files. “You have served us well, Emmy… You are dismissed.”

In place of relief, she felt a pang in her heart and cringed as she held herself back from gagging.

“Thank you, Commander Erwin,” she said in a choked voice and leapt up on her feet. She saluted Erwin then glanced at Levi for a split second before turning her head guiltily. She hurried out of Erwin’s office, clinging Levi’s delicate handkerchief to her chest, feeling like the most revolting human being who had ever lived.

Levi sighed from his nostrils as he squeezed the back of his chair so firmly that the wood made a creaking sound. He glared at Erwin, who seemed unfazed.

“Oi. Blondie. Did you have to get so weirdly personal there?”

“I was determining her motive.”

Levi scoffed. “Now you’re calling her a liar? I know her better than you do.”

“There’s no need to get defensive. I granted the woman her wish, did I not?”

“Yeah, but why did you ask her that shitty question?” Levi stood up and strode over to Erwin’s desk. “You had to twist the knife in her wound?” Levi spoke with a harsh, gravelly voice.

“Think about it, Levi. You know who you are.”

Levi rolled his eyes. “I don’t give a shit what her motive is. She’s my comrade in arms. I’ve saved her life, and she’s saved mine. And she didn’t use mind control to get me into bed, I made the choice to fuck her.” Levi leant his fists against Erwin’s desk. “Fact of the matter is, I knocked her up. This is my responsibility, Erwin. End of story.”

Erwin hummed. “That is your prerogative, Levi.” Erwin found what he was looking for, and took out a medical discharge document before sitting down. “Even so, ‘taking responsibility’ here entails that this will remain strictly confidential. I am effectively sweeping this under the rug. If there is any documentation of you and Emmy having an intimate relationship, that could be held against me as Commander.”

“I get it. I’m not marrying her.”

“And you must make it clear to her that any sexual affiliation she has with you is not to be shared with anyone. In your heart you can claim it, though, legally, that child is not yours.” Erwin dipped his quill into ink and began writing onto the document. “She was diagnosed with a debilitating chronic illness and is hereby found to be medically unfit for duty. If perchance anyone discovers her pregnancy, it is nothing more than a subsequent occurrence of her early retirement.”

Levi’s knuckles still against the wood, his jet black fringe curtaining over his aggrieved, downcast face.

“I’ll be sure to spell that out for her.”

~~

Join my taglist @sixpennydame

[naffeclipse]

Haunting your inbox again with another question about a sleuthing jesters series :)

In No Small Favor, I’ve always been curious about a few things. How quickly did word spread in the underworld about Moon getting shot? I’ve been thinking about that one mini drabble you wrote about how Eclipse would patch up Sun if someone nearly destroyed him to earn the mob boss’ favor. So did he plan to intervene before Moon’s condition became irreversible? (Though that begs the question of what really would be considered irreversible, and Sun did go for awhile without a working celestial wire at the end of the series.)

Also, what was Eclipse’s reaction when his goons passed on word that the vigilante was asking for him? Did he actually think they were considering joining him, or had he already put two and two together that they were looking for him on behalf of Moon? If it’s that latter, I could see how he might view that as an opportunity to kill two birds with one stone: save Moon and get the vigilante in his debt.

One more thing! Is Balloon World considered his domain, or is it just a general seedy area where mobsters can use the back rooms as they want?

Never mind, I just thought of one more question djjflskdkd XD Did you ever have any lore/ideas about DJ Music Man’s role/character in the series? I know he doesn’t show up in it, but I wondered if you had some notes or thoughts about his interactions and relations/dealings with the underworld.

Hope you don’t mind the question(s) haha <3

Lumi, you are welcome to haunt my inbox anytime you feel, my ghostly friend ♥

Eclipse was aware that Moon had been injured—what he wasn't aware of was the extent of his injuries. He knew Sun would tend to their brother, but as the days passed, Eclipse would have grown more aware of their absence and would have investigated himself if the vigilante hadn't intervened. (Celestial wires ceasing to function for long periods of can lead to permanent damage even after being fixed/replaced. Much like falling into a coma, it can be very difficult for an animatronic to power back on after a long period of inactivity.)

Eclipse was certain the vigilante had finally begun to see things his way (it was inevitable, and this is the easy way for them) so that's why he's a bit, ah, displeased when he realizes the vigilante is asking about a celestial wire. At the same time, he understood that Moon is not actually okay, but Eclipse did not miss the opportunity sitting in his lap trying their best to look pretty and not afraid. He's more than willing to kill two birds with one stone, and he did.

Balloon World is a personal favorite hangout of his, and more or less somewhere you don't want to go if you don't want to run into the mob boss himself. He doesn't own it in the traditional sense, but it is his place that's kept under wraps.

Ah! I never did touch on Music Man but he's got a little story! He's the head of a rather lucrative underground operation, though less powerful than Eclipse, but he handles his gang wisely and is able to successfully and discretely laundry money via his club and a separate recording studio as fronts for his illegal business of trafficking weapons. He's on pretty good terms with a lot of gangs and knows to not cross wires as a supplier. My design for him is that he's humanoid but fairly large, on par with Eclipse's height except that he has six arms instead of the regular two. Music Man is mistaken for a simple-minded weapons dealer but he is very strategic in all aspects of his work; he will effectively remove the problem of your existence if you happen to interfere with his smoothly running operations. (He can also play a mean guitar.)

The vigilante found out his real name through some bribes and, uh, more persuasive violent means and would have liked to have gone after him, but other events took up their attention.

I don't mind the questions at all so long as you don't mind me rambling hehe ♥

[michinnyun]

Come See About Me

Pairing: Din Djarin x F! Reader

Summary: “I want someone to tell me what to wear every morning. I want someone to tell me what to eat. What to like, what to hate, what to rage about. What to listen to, what band to like. What to buy tickets for. What to joke about, what to not joke about. I want someone to tell me what to believe in. Who to vote for and who to love and how to tell them.” -Fleabag, Season 2: Episode 4 // Hiiiii I was just thinking about this monologue and went a little crazy. Hope you guys like this one.

Tags: Reader Insert × No use of y/n × reader is a farmer yeehaw × Din Djarin Needs a Hug × Good Parent Din Djarin × Mild Hurt/Comfort × Light Dom/sub × Dom Din Djarin × Gentle Kissing × Idiots in Love × p in v sex × Oral Sex × Somnophilia × very light and reader is more than okay with it × so just keep that in mind × Dead Dove: Do Not Eat × mild dubcon × Because Of That × just wanna make sure all bases are covered × oral male recieving × oral female recieving × Face-Fucking × (romantic?) × Deep Throating × Porn with Feelings × Love Confessions × Helmetless Din Djarin × din djarin tells you his name × no gag reflex because fuck realism × i'm just here to post porn and leave okay

Words: 3.5k

Ao3 link

It’s been a year since the last time you saw Mando.

He said not to wait for him. He said that this was the last time.

He said that the time before, too.

You stare out into the fields from your little hut, watching the sun go down over stalks growing like weeds. The farm is doing okay. It’s fine. The droids help. Mando got them, said he picked them up on a mission by accident and figured you could use them. Sure. They were brand new, no record of a system reboot in their software. A few scorch marks, but you figure that’s Mando’s fault somehow. He never comes back to you unscathed.

Mando hates droids, so that must mean he really likes you. At least, that’s what you thought. And then a month went by, and then another one. No comms. Nothing.

The people in the village are nice. You’ve been around long enough that they’ve finally gotten used to you. You do your business in town, exchange greetings, and go back to your little corner of the planet.

No one ever bothers you. No one except him.

He’s never gone this long without stopping by. You’d be worried if you weren’t constantly checking the hunter channels. Mandalorians are few and far between, and if he had been killed you’d know about it by now.

Then, finally, you do hear about him. He’s the one being hunted. You frown. Figures. The Hunter’s Guild is not the most professional operation in the galaxy.

The next time you see him, it’s with a child in tow. __

“Oh. Hello there,” you breathe, startled by the little green bundle in his arms.

Mando is stoic, quiet. You want to ask where the baby came from, but you know better. Maybe the little guy is his. He could be, for all you know.

“Been a while,” he rumbles, that low, soft voice of his turning your legs to jelly, just like the first time.

You nod towards your hut. “Hungry?” __

Mando explains everything to you. Sort of. You get the feeling he’s leaving some stuff out, but you don’t pry. You’ve only ever been a listening ear, and you know Mando values his privacy.

“So… he’s not yours.” You murmur, glancing at the crib holding the sleeping baby.

Mando chuckles lowly. “Why? Jealous?”

Your cheeks burn indignantly. “You and I both know that this,” you wag your finger between him and you. “Is not an exclusive arrangement. What you do in your free time is none of my business.”

“That sounds awfully rehearsed.”

You stare down at your hands on the table, wrapped around a mug of hot caf. “...Why are you here, Mando?” you ask quietly. “I thought that was the last time. You were gone so long, I thought you finally meant it.”

He’s quiet for a minute, and you watch the reflection of your little kitchen in his helmet, warped and distorted in the metal.

“I didn’t know where else to go.”

Your heart sinks. Somehow, you’ve always sensed a kindred spirit in him. Someone else just looking for a family. Home. You stand up, pulling him out of seat and leading him by the hand to your sparse bedroom.

There’s no moon out, and with the lights off, you’re surrounded by pitch darkness. You lift Mando’s helmet off his shoulders, placing it on the empty side table. You stare into the darkness where you imagine his face is, and think to yourself that you can see it this time. Shades of longing painting his face the way you know they do yours.

His nose bumps into your cheek while you wrap your arms around him. “What have you been doing here without me?”

You nuzzle him, rubbing a hand up and down his back until your fingers reach a clasp, removing his cape and pauldrons, setting them next to his helmet. “Nothing. So much nothing,” you whisper, removing the front plate of his armor.

“Good,” he groans, leaning into your soft touch against the front of his flight pants, already needy for you after so much time away.

“What about you, hm? Found anyone special on the road?” You know jealousy isn’t a good look on you, but now that the thought’s been planted in your head, you can’t shake it.

You feel the curve of his smile into your hair. “No. Never. Only you.”

You feel warm all over. Your lips trip over his mustache on the way to his mouth, drinking from his breath like it’ll save you. Like it’ll make him stay.

His bandolier should’ve come off before everything else, but you were distracted. It comes off now, the bullets and bombs and things clinking together like wind chimes when you place them on the table.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, tilting his head to yours with a strong, gloved hand. You whine softly, letting his tongue lave over yours as you grow weak in the knees, slowly falling into him. He catches you. He always does.

He holds you close, letting the loneliness and frustration and need of the past year run back and forth between you like an electrical current.

His fingers catch the fabric of your vest and tunic, pulling them off in one desperate rush.

“I missed you,” you murmur as he lays you down onto the bed.

“Shh,” he hushes, still in his flight suit and gloves. You catch his hand, pulling one off, letting the calluses brush over your skin. Letting him run a bare hand over your nipple, soft and plump.

You shiver. “Want me to tell you what to do?” He asks quietly. You nod, knowing he hears the shuffle of your pillow underneath you. Can feel the motion of your eager affirmative in the air.

“Always,” you whisper anyways.

He needs to take the rest of his clothes off to do this part. He only gets as far as his pants.

When he pushes into you, he doesn’t seem surprised that you’re already wet, pliant for him. You’ve been waiting all this time, after all. You’ve been ready for him since the moment he left.

Your breath comes out of you in one long sigh, finally full of him after months apart. “Fuck,” you whisper, his hands reaching up to hold you down.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, pushing in and out with reverence, breaking you open until you’re left shattered underneath him. “Just, let me-”

He never comes this quickly, but before you know it, he’s collapsing onto you, gasping into your hair. You press sweet little kisses into the stubble of his cheek.

“You must really like me,” you tease. He grumbles, pushing his tongue into your mouth again until you’re practically sucking on it, whining against him. He steals the laughter right from your lips before it can ever escape, drowning you in his taste.

His hips press into you, cock hardening as you squeak. You didn’t know guys over thirty could still do that.

“Ah, uh- I-” you stutter when he pulls away, fucking his come into you at a steady pace.

“Fuck. Let me-” he murmurs, pulling out and bending down, down until he’s lapping up your mixed release into the cavern of his mouth.

You cry out softly, the liquid heat of his tongue swiping over your neglected clit. The rumble of his low voice, moaning softly into your soaked cunt does it. A wonderful, blooming warmth overcomes you, washing over you as your body tenses, pulling Mando closer to you as you ride it out.

He doesn’t pause, doesn’t hesitate when he starts up again. Your grip on him is even tighter, your chests pressed together in a sweat-slick slide as he presses his forehead to yours and fucks you properly, the way you’ve been dreaming about for months.

“Wait for me,” he murmurs. “I’m sorry I made you wait for me. My girl. So patient. Doing everything I say. Giving me anything I want. Good girl. Good girl for me.”

You almost come again at that. “Yes,” you shudder, “Yes, yes, yes.”

You cup his cheek, smudging away a tear trail. You lick the wetness away, tasting the salt of a year apart from each other.

He bites at your thumb, kissing it and nuzzling into your cheek.

“My girl. You waited for me.” He whispers, pressing the rough pad of his thumb against your clit.

“Yes, yeah, I did- Mando-” You come again, this one faster, a blinding tear through your body that brings him not far behind. Your lips tangle with his, relishing the sticky wetness of his release filling you again.

Your breaths start to slow. Before you know it, your eyes are fluttering shut. __

It’s the middle of the night. There’s a divine warmth between your legs, a soft panting at your neck. You push back, moaning softly as you’re filled.

“Mando,” you gasp, putting a hand over the one cupping your breast.

“Fuck-ing tight,” he murmurs. “So tight. So soft. Taking care of yourself, like I told you to.” His other hand is holding the soft flesh at the base of your tummy, right where it mens the prickly down of your pubic hair. His hips snap into yours a little faster, stealing your breath and melting your bones. Itching a scratch at the very core of you.

“Fuck, Mando-” you sob, a fresh wave of wetness coating him. His balls slap thickly against the back of your thighs, your legs tangling together under the humidity of the blanket he must’ve covered you with after you fell asleep.

He groans your name into your neck, mumbling words you don’t understand anymore as he moves against you, stealing all rational thought away.

Somehow he manages to roll you onto your stomach, completely covering your back, smushing you into the mattress as he gathers himself onto his knees and fucks into you at a deeper, raw angle.

You love it, love the way he dwarfs you and surrounds you and takes and takes and takes, never giving you a chance to breathe, to think while he’s consuming you, swallowing you whole.

You keen, a soft, desperate sound. Mando reaches down, grinds the heel of his palm against the nub at your front. It’s not enough. You squirm under him, guiding his hand to the spot that makes you convulse, sweat coating your forehead and chest.

He holds you down, fucks you against the friction of his hand while you lay there, pinned and utterly full.

“Unnh,” you murmur. Drooling. Pelvic muscles contracting around where he’s buried deep inside you, grinding at a slow pace.

“Not done yet, sweetheart,” he grunts. “Night’s just begun.” __

This is why you wait for him, you think. Not just for the mind melting sex. For this.

His fingers rubbing into your back, watching the shafts of sunlight creep along the floor. Closer, closer.

“Don’t leave,” you whisper, keeping your eyes squeezed shut so that he’ll know you’re serious about keeping his secrets. About him. “Don’t leave,” you press a kiss to his cheek. “Please.” His nose. “Don’t leave.”

“Gotta go.”

“Don’t leave.”

“Sweetheart, it’s morning,” he says, kissing your forehead, his mustache tickling your hairline. “This is the last time.”

You’ve never cried in front of him. You made it a point of pride. No matter how many times he came and went, lighting your world on fire just to leave it cold and smoking the next day, you never once shed a tear until he was already gone.

That’s why you feel so betrayed when you feel the heat gathering behind your closed eyelids. Water welling, threatening to spill over onto your cheeks and make sure he’ll never come back again. Not once he saw you like this. Weak. Fragile.

He freezes once he sees the first tear. You try to keep your face neutral, but there’s no way to hide when he’s an inch away from the muscles in your mouth, twitching and trembling.

“I-” he starts, cut off in surprise when you separate from him and start gathering the top sheet around yourself. You kee your eyes closed, if at least to remind him of your loyalty.

“Then go,” you say, voice shaking in humiliation. “Get out. Don’t come back into my life. You said this is the last time, then let it be the last. Get out of my house. Take the kid with you.”

You hate how childish you sound. Here’s this big man, this bounty hunter, laying in your bed while you keep a hand over your eyes and tell him you don’t want to play anymore.

You hear a rustling. Then, he’s cupping your cheek. You exhale shakily as you automatically lean into the touch, another tear escaping the jail of your hand.

“It’s not fair that you get to leave and I have to stay here,” you say softly. “Please.”

He’s quiet for a minute. Contemplating. “What do you want?”

You sigh. “I want you to stay. With me. I want you to stay. I want you to tell me what to do. What you want. Where to go, how to feel. I want to go everywhere with you, and I want to stay when you tell me. I never want to have to see anybody but each other.”

Your hand is still covering your eyes when he kisses you. The sheet falls away as he pulls you under him. A repeat of the night before.

“I don’t want to wait anymore,” you tell him between kisses.

He’s softer now. More thoughtful. Considerate. Well, he’s always considerate, but this is different. This isn’t the display of power he likes to put on for you. It’s like you’re just… people. Together. It feels nice. You feel part of something, even if you still can’t see the way the morning light reflects in his eyes and what kind of bed head he gets and if his scruff gets tousled after you’ve run your fingers through it.

“Mando,” you sigh.

“Din,” he grumbles out. “Din. Call me Din.”

“Din,” you murmur, head swimming. “Is that your real name?”

He hesitates, like he’s still processing the fact that he just told you his name. “Yes,” he tells you.

“Din,” you exhale, nose bumping against his as you feel around for another kiss, pulling him down until you disappear into each other completely. He fucks into you so sweetly; long, thoughtful thrusts.

Your last orgasm is slow, luxurious. Pulling you deep into him, milking him where you connect.

He still hasn’t finished.

“Din,” you murmur. He groans, and it almost sounds painful, “Din?”

He gasps, pulling out. Thankfully your hand’s still covering them, because your eyes fly open in shock.

“What’s wrong?” His hands rub at the tender skin of your sides, anxious.

“I can’t- Need to,” he trails off. Then, he starts climbing over you. “Open your mouth.”

You know you don’t have another orgasm in you, you know you don’t, but your stomach still flutters weakly in interest. Din climbs over your torso, up to your chest. Planting himself right under your chin.

His wet cock bobs over your waiting mouth, head teasing your lips. He puts the tip against your tongue, using one hand to tuck your chin into your chest. You taste a hint of yourself on him. Can smell it.

“Good,” he murmurs. “Just-”

He groans in relief, his shaft pushing past your lips as he slowly fucks into your face.

He cups your chin, using his other hand to cover your eyes, just in case. You feel the lucious stretch of his tip in the back of your throat and relax, exhaling through your nose as he slowly penetrates you.

It shouldn’t feel romantic, but you’ve never had sex while he could see you. You just know he’s watching the way his length disappears into your mouth, fascinated with how you take it all. “Beautiful,” he murmurs, confirming your thoughts before pulling out and giving you a chance to inhale. You cough, your throat contracting against the sudden evacuation.

His thumb rubs against your cheek, hand still stopping you from accidentally seeing his face.

When he pushes back inside, you’re ready. It’s been a long time since you last did this, but you never get tired of it. You would probably fall asleep with his dick in your mouth every night if he wasn’t gone all the time.

“Fuck,” he groans, thrusting a little more steadily. You’re ready for it. You tilt your chin up a little, moving your face against him and making little noises to let him know you want it. You’ve wanted it for a year.

“Fuck, I-” he finally, finally fucks your face, muttering curses and sweet words about how good you are, how pretty. How nice and patient and sweet. “My girl,” he murmurs before he fills your throat, holding your head in place, not letting you budge an inch as his hips stutter against your mouth.

You do your best to catch every last drop as he pulls out, only stopping when he hisses from overstimulation. He takes his hand over your eyes and replaces it with one of your own before you feel him rise from the bed. You sit up, slightly dazed, licking the musk-salt of him from your lips.

He groans. “I saw that.”

“Good,” you say. “I wanted you to.”

There’s the telltale sound of his armor clinking, and you roll onto your side on the bed, still naked. Whatever. He’s seen worse, now.

You can’t help it, tears well up again. Real ones.

There’s a gloved hand on your shoulder, and you roll around to face him. Suited up.

You glance down at the scraps of fabric that you wore as clothing yesterday being offered to you.

You shrug on your tunic, leaving your vest on top of the crumpled sheets.

You walk into the kitchen together, awkward and quiet. Your caf from last night sits cold on the table.

The baby is still asleep. He slept through the whole night. You wonder if Mando didn’t give him something.

“I-”

“You should come with us.”

Your ears ring. “What?”

“Me, and the kid.” He seems nervous. You’ve never seen him nervous. “We can’t stay here. And neither can you, now. They’ll know I was here. You should come with us.”

“But, the farm-” you say, glancing out the window to where the droids are inspecting each grain, each stalk and leaf for pests.

“I got those for you,” he confesses, like it’s some big surprise. “I meant to come back, once you’d gotten used to them. Got a little tied up.”

Your eyes flick to the bassinet. “Really.”

He nods, slowly. Walks towards you on padded feet, tucks his fingers under your chin and runs a thumb over your bottom lip.

“I always wanted to take you with me, mesh’la. I just… wasn’t sure. What you wanted. You probably want to stay here, but-”

You reach up, hands on both sides of his helmet. You stand there for a full thirty seconds, giving him ample opportunity to stop you as you slowly, agonizingly slowly pull his helmet off.

His mouth is- perky. His facial hair is patchy, and scraggly. And brown. His nose is hooked, and his eyes are downturned, sad. Scared. Also brown.

His eyes (and you really, sincerely do not mean to be cheesy here) sparkle in the low light of morning. Dark, swirling mirrors of emotion. You never realized just how much he was hiding behind that mask. He’s a total open book like this. He whispers your name. He sounds terrified, and relieved.

You kiss him. His hands feel consuming, untethered. Like he’s been holding back this whole time.

“I want to go everywhere with you.” you say, holding eye contact with him. It makes you almost nervous, to see him staring back at you unabashedly.

From the corner of the room comes the tiniest, cutest sigh. The bassinet cover opens, and the green baby Mando-Din brought with him blinks and coos at you.

“Oh,” you breathe, totally captivated. “Hello.”

Your hands are pressed to Din’s chest, his arm circled around your waist.

You look up at him, eyes full of emotion as he stares at the baby reaching out for him. Din gently separates from you, scooping the kid out of the crib and letting him touch his face. It’s quiet for a while. Intimate. It feels like something really important is happening.

The baby’s eyes are huge, taking up about 50% of his face. He has long, fuzzy green ears and tiny three fingered claws. He looks like a doll.

“What’s his name?”

Din shrugs, and you snort. Of course Mando hasn't given him a name.

“Hey little guy,” you say, patting the wrinkled space between his ears. He gurgles.

You absolutely melt. He uses his little grabbers to hold onto one of your fingers, effectively cementing his place in your heart.

“So,” you say quietly. “Where are we going?”