#and then i added ch 3 2 days ago | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

milkpup · 4 months

Text

｡⋆ʚ♡ bad luck comes in threes (and in me)

›› nsfw 18+ / 3 part fic

@ace_343 on twt

ch 2 ♡ ch 3

ʚ ao3 ɞ / ʚ kofi ɞ / ʚ fic masterlist ɞ

›› naoya zenin x f!reader ›› megumi fushiguro x f!reader ›› toji fushiguro x f!eader ›› naoya x f!reader x megumi / megumi x f!reader x toji ›› naoya x f!reader x megumi + toji ›› started: 1/12/24 : status: ongoing

‹𝟹 summary: You and Megumi are close friends. He invites you to his family's estate where you start to notice how bad your luck really is.

‹𝟹 fandom: jjk, jujutsu kaisen

‹𝟹 genres / warnings: au - no powers, college au, pseudo-incest (they all want y/n, not eachother), harsh language, abuse, power imbalance, dubious consent / rxpe / noncon

‹𝟹 tags: AGED UP CHARACTERS!, au - no deaths, au - toji and megumi are part of zenin clan still, power imblance, degradation, choking, loss of virginity, name calling, pet names, some fluff and LOTS OF SMUT, slight angst, all the zenins want you basically, vaginal, blow jobs, cunnilingus, face sitting, 4some, mdom, fsub, pseudo-incest, meet the family, breeding, cum as lube, cum swapping, light blood, aggressive choking, will update tags as more is added, praise, being called a good girl

‹𝟹 notes: this is a long time in the making. i probably started this fic over a month ago >< i've been working on it more than my lfls fic that i like more. just smthn abt naoya...... (usually i prefer naoya to be subby but this fic is diff oopsies :3!). lmk what y'all think.i'll be updating my other fic real soon but for now, crumbs of this i guess LOL. i was originally going to do a oneshot but it was already starting to get long and i hadn't even progressed much in the plot i have written up x-x so i figured i'd do 3 chaps since it's like the theme >:3 hope y'all like it!!!

i'll be updating tags as it progresses. i'm super excited abt this fic even tho it's like 99% smut. (idk how to write stuff w/o smut oops) what can i say??? 🤌

!! - again, PLEASE READ TAGS BEFORE CONTINUING - !!

! - ALL CHARACTERS ARE 18+ - !

Chapter 1: Exposed

“So, do you think you can make it?” Megumi asks, taking a sip of his coffee and looking at you inquisitively. “To my family event, the reunion thing, I mean.”

You hadn’t thought about it much. Sipping on your tea, you contemplated. You’ve never met Megumi’s extended family; you had no idea what they would be like. Megumi’s family is huge, and it would be a multi-day event held at their estate. “Oh, what the hell. I have nothing better to do during winter break anyways.”

His face lights up a bit at your confirmation, but Megumi tries his hardest to hide it. You can see the blush creeping across his nose, his cheeks, even reaching the tips of his ears. He was like a little puppy, excited to see you.

“Make sure to bring any nice clothes you want to wear, but there will be pajamas and toiletries provided to you.” He finished his drink and moved to throw his away. “Are you done too?”

You felt bad, you had a little bit of your tea left and he was patiently waiting for you to finish to throw your trash away for you. You hurriedly suck up the remainder of the tea through the straw, and hand him the empty cup. “Thanks, Megs.” You chirp.

Megumi blushes and looks away as he takes your cup from your hands.

You’re back at your house, frantically packing last minute before Megumi comes over to pick you up. You’ve always been an overpacker, and you have no idea what to expect. You throw all sorts of garments into a pile that you want to take: casual clothes like leggings and hoodies, dresses and formalwear, and intimates. You blush, picking up matching sets of underwear and bras. You decide to toss them onto the pile anyways, better prepared than not. You didn’t know who you were “preparing” for, but felt your cheeks flush anyways. I’m meeting my close friend’s extended party and I’m packing lingerie, am I a fucking creep? You shake your head, trying to shake the thoughts out too.

You finish stuffing your clothes into your bags, packing some makeup and skincare that they probably wouldn’t have available. Just as you finish zipping your second bag, you hear a loud knock on the front door. It’s Megumi.

You open the door with a soft smile, greeting Megumi. “Thanks for picking me up Megs! Can you help me with my other bag?”

He looks down to where you’re gesturing, noticing the other bag. “Jeez ____, it’s a 3 day party. How many clothes do you need?”

You blush, sheepishly. “I just want to be prepared… y’know?” Megumi huffs and groans before picking up both bags. A lady should never have to carry her own bags, and he noticed it seemed like you were struggling with how heavy these bags were, being packed to the absolute brim.

“T-thanks, Megs.” You croak out as you follow behind him to his car. He doesn’t reply, hoisting your bags in the trunk before slamming it shut. You open the door and sit in the passenger side, buckling your seatbelt with an audible click. He gets in shortly after you, adjusting his seatbelt and turning the car on.

The silence is thick, but not awkward. You and Megumi were comfortable around each other, not requiring a word to be said as you sat in comfortable silence on the drive to his family’s estate. Your curiosity got the better of you, and you ask Megumi, breaking the silence, “So what are the plans for the event? How big is it going to be, anyways?”

Megumi answers you, not taking his eyes off the road. “It will have pretty much my entire family, extended family, and family friends. There’s lots to do at our estate, from the gardens, movie room, bar room, and more. As for planned events, music and lots of food, maybe dancing?” His tone ends questioningly, he knows his family isn’t particularly fond of frivolous activities like dancing, but there might still be some as more people loosen up.

You nod, taking in his answer. This sounds almost a little exciting. Much better than spending time holed up in your room, studying or watching youtube.

Megumi pulled up to the grandiose estate. “Wow Gumi, I knew your family was loaded…. But not THIS loaded,” You gasped in awe. The entire property was large enough to be a mini village. You were shocked, to say the least. The beautiful landscaping, trees, the koi pond that connected into a river surrounding the main building… it was all too beautiful.

“Yeah, they are wealthy on a whole different level,” he responds, as he pops the trunk and retrieves your bags. “Usually they have servants around, but I’ll show you around the estate myself instead.” He starts walking towards the front entrance, you follow him closely behind, not wanting to get lost.

Megumi doesn’t even have to open the door, servants inside let him in as soon as he approaches. He briskly walks along the pavilion, turning left towards a long corridor. You try to match pace, but his long legs gives him an advantage. You take this moment, a few paces behind Megumi, to admire his raven locks bouncing as he walked.

As you’re walking, you pass an entryway, seeing a few figures to your right. Someone clicks their tongue. “I see my cousin Megumi understands,” he starts, eyes following your figure as you walk past him, “that a woman’s place is three steps behind a man’s.” This mysterious man, related to Megumi, smirks as your figure disappears.

“Don’t listen to him. He’s so full of shit it’s festering,” Megumi spits out. He seems to really hate whoever that guy was. Megumi leads you to a room down a quiet corridor and opens the door. “This will be your room for the next few nights,” He announces as he enters the room and sets your bags down. “My room is on the other side of the estate. These are the guest rooms. We can check mine out later, if you’re interested.” He flushes at that last part, looking down and uncomfortably shifting his weight. “Anyways, I have to clean up before dinner in an hour. I’ll be back to see you soon.’

Megumi retreats from your room and closes the door behind him. You decide to unpack, putting things in the drawers and hanging some items in the closet. The room was quite spacious, with its own bathroom attached and adjacent to this room.

You haven’t finished unpacking yet but decided to take a quick shower just to freshen up. You scope out the bathroom and quickly shut the door behind you. Turning the shower on to a scalding hot temp, you wait for it to heat up as steam fills the bathroom. You strip and enter the shower.

He stalks the hallway you were walking through but a moment ago. He’s insanely curious as to what you look like up close, intrigued by your fleeting form as you walked by behind Megumi. He wondered if you were his toy, you following Megumi like a puppy definitely gave off that message.

He can still smell a lingering scent of citrus and flowers. He knows it’s you, because women of the clan are usually not permitted to walk this side of the estate anyways. He’s following your trail, like a predator following its prey. He sees the faint glow of light coming from the crack of a door and approaches it.

He knocks once. No response. He knocks twice. Still nothing. Naoya Zenin believed he was a gentleman, but he had his limits. This was his future estate, he believed he had every right to know every single thing going on under this roof.

He lets himself in, and immediately sees the cracked bathroom door, a bit of steam escaping. He hears you humming while taking a shower, and smirks. He silently closes the door, and makes his way towards your plush bed. He sees a bag open, clothes strewn about. Something frilly and lacy catches his eye, and he walks towards the table instead. He picks the article of clothing up, noticing he was holding a black thong, laces and bows, adorned with gems along the thin waistband. He licked his lips, unholy thoughts flooding his brain.

He hears you shut off the shower, and quickly pockets the garment, swiftly moving to sit on the edge of the bed. A few moments pass, and the door of the bathroom swings open. Steam floods your room, quickly dissipating. You have a towel wrapped around your body, still humming as you walk towards your pile of clothes. You had set a specific set on top to put on after your shower. You could have sworn the thong was there, but as you rummaged through your bag the garment was nowhere to be seen.

“Looking for these, little miss?” You gasp and turn around to see a man sitting on your bed, holding up your thong with 1 finger, while smirking and eyeing you down. You nearly drop your towel, but regain composure.

“Who are you?” You ask, unsure of why a strange man you’ve never seen before let himself into your room.

“My apologies, doll, I didn’t mean to scare you. My name is Naoya Zenin. I’m set to be the next heir of the clan and estate,” he smirks, “And I figured I should personally introduce myself to you. It would be impolite of me not to do so. Who are you?”

“I’m _____, Megumi’s friend. He invited me over to meet all his family.” His ears perked up at you mentioning your friendship with Megumi, a devious thought crossing. You were still in your towel, cold air further cooling your already wet skin.

“You didn’t answer my first question, little miss. Were you planning on wearing these?” He practically spins the panties around his finger, staring you down intently. “I didn’t think such a good girl would bring something like this to wear when meeting her friend’s family…” He trails off.

A blushes creeps along your face, you didn’t think someone would know. You didn’t think someone would barge into your room, look through your clothes, and tease you about it. You couldn’t even look Naoya in the eye, shame clearly on display on your features.

“Don’t worry, woman, I won’t tell anyone. You wouldn’t want your close friend, Megumi, to know about this right? I won’t tell; however, my silence has a price.” He finishes his comment, smirking at you. His sultry gaze was locked on you, scanning your body from head to toe. He grinned and licked his lips, thinking about how he could manipulate you.

“What do you mean?” You look up at him, confused and unsure about the situation. “What do I have to do?” At that question, Naoya lifts himself from your bed to make his way towards you. His gaze never once leaving yours, making intense eye contact that sent shivers down your spine and left you trembling. You felt like prey being stalked by a predator.

Naoya is right in front of you now, as he grabs both wrists with his hands and lifts them above your head. You’re startled but have no time to react as he pushes you against a wall, wrists pinned above you. You can feel Naoya’s hot breath tickling your cheek, making you lose all sense of rationality. He grins at you, looking down as he has you in a position you can’t easily free yourself from. Your head hangs low, looking down, trying to stifle your heavy breathing. You don’t want him to know his actions are affecting you.

“I know women are dumb, but seriously, how can you not know what I mean? At least you’re pretty….” He leaves his sentence unfinished, bringing a cold hand to your chin and tilting your head to look at him. “Little miss, I’ll explain it to you once, in an easy way to understand. I want to use you. Your body, specifically. Will you be a good girl and let me? Or do you want me to make you.” Naoya’s tone drops a bit, almost grunting at the end. Thoughts about what “using you” entails floods your mind. You’re inexperienced, but not entirely clueless. Your blush deepens as you look into his eyes, now peering down at you.

You didn’t think being degraded and praised in the span of a few seconds would entice you as much as it would. Normally you’re a very independent woman, fully capable of realizing your own dreams and pursuing your own goals. But something… something about being put down but also called a good girl sent you driving up the wall with insanity. You were hooked near instantly.

“Yes sir,” you meekly respond, looking up at Naoya. Your emotions and lust are on clear display for him, and he’s enjoying every second of it.

“Good girl.” He smirks. “Just to be clear, I have very specific tastes and like to be pleased in a certain way. Try and make me proud, you dumb whore.” Your cheeks flared red at the insult. “Open your mouth, cunt.”

You made no hesitation to fulfill his command. He still had a firm grip on your chin, leaning down as he spit into your mouth. “Swallow, princess.” He instructs as he pushes your mouth closed. You comply, feeling more heat pooling between your legs. “Good girl,” he purrs as you open your mouth to show him.

He leans back into you, lips crashing into yours. He nips at your bottom lip, drawing a tiny bit of blood as he goes back to kissing you. He can taste the blood mixed with both of your saliva as he forces his tongue into your mouth, trying to push his way into every part of you he can. His hand previously at your chin is moving down toward your neck, resting into a firm grip across your neck. You can still breathe, but the firm pressure while he’s sloppily kissing you elicits a few soft moans from you into his mouth. You can’t tell, but he’s grinning as his grip increases a bit. He pulls away before taunting you, “Do you like that? Huh? Are you a masochist or something?” He’s not relenting, grip strengthening as you’re looking up at him, tears beginning to form in your eyes.

You’re unable to speak, so you try to nod your head to show him that he’s right. He notices and loosens his grip before moving his hand towards your chest. “Good girl,” he praises you. “I like that.” He leaves kisses in a trail from your lips to your neck, kissing over the faint marks his hands left before. You’re still against the wall, hands above your head, and he released his other grip before picking you up and carrying you to your bed.

“Next time, I want to see you wear that slutty fucking lingerie you brought. You’re such a dirty girl.” He peers down at you as you’re left exposed on your bed. He’s crawling above you, pushing you into the mattress. He gives you a few impatient kisses before moving back to your chest, grabbing one of your breasts while his mouth moves to the other. His other hand is fervently roamed your body, moving down your tummy towards your hips and eventually resting on your thigh. His hands were soft but rough trailing along your skin, as if he was searching for something.

Naoya’s hand slips to your inner thigh, just shy of your exposed cunt. He lightly grips it as he starts leaving a trail of kisses down your body as he took his hand from your breast and pushed your thighs apart. He left love bites and marks as he made his way to your cunt, stopping to look up at you. He grinned as he spit on one of his fingers, prodding its way through your folds to find your clit. He’s been with many women, and although he has an arrogant attitude, he does know exactly how to please a woman.

He rubs circles around your clit as his mouth leaves a little bite mark against your inner thigh. You softly moan at the pain as Naoya’s eyes flick up to meet yours. Although you can’t see it, you’re sure he has that asshole smirk of his. Your suspicions are pretty much confirmed when he says “Are you some masochist? Some dumb bitch who likes to be hurt. For real?” You think you heard a laugh as he moved his finger down to your hole, spitting some more before he fucked you with a finger. You didn’t need any more lube, you were practically drenched. He pushed his finger in, feeling how tight your hole was with only one of his fingers.

“You have the tightest cunt I’ve ever felt. I’m impressed. Are you a virgin too?” He looked up at you, expecting an answer.

“Yeah..” You tried to hide your face with your hands, embarrassed at your lack of experience. Naoya saw it differently though. His cock twitched in his pants as you replied, and he started moving his finger inside your tight cunt. He loved hearing the little moans you make as he slipped his finger in and out, a lewd wet sound filling the room. He was trying to get you used to it, but he was getting impatient. He was already working harder for any woman he’s ever been with.

His mouth moved above your clit, tongue flicking around the sensitive bud as he slipped in another long finger into your hole. He curled and scissored his fingers, trying to stretch you as his fingers fucked you faster. Your face was flush with embarrassment as you still tried to contain some of your moans. One more finger slipped in, stretching your walls while he moved above you, face aligned with yours.

He kept fingering your cunt as he aggressively kissed you, biting your lip before he shoved his tongue into your mouth. You could feel yourself come closer to the edge, your core tightening. You were moaning into his mouth, arms wrapped around his neck pulling his body closer into yours.

“Fuck... Naoya…” you whined out as you felt the thread about to snap, “I’m gonna—cum!!” His fingers slammed into your cunt as he was leaving marks along your neck. You felt your walls tighten around his fingers as he expertly prepped your cunt for the main event.

“You’re such a good girl… I almost feel bad taking your virginity. Almost.” Naoya takes out his fingers, sucking on a few of them to taste you. He pushes one of his fingers into your mouth, commanding you to taste your own cunt. “Next time I’ll taste you myself… but I can’t wait any longer,” he says as he’s taking off his shirt and pants, pulling down his briefs to expose his large cock. He moves up above you again, grabbing your legs by the ankle as his body is pushed against yours. He’s putting you in a mating press. He moves the tip to your entrance and spits on his cock before slowly pushing inside, feeling your tight walls around his girthy cock.

He gives you time to adjust, but it isn’t nearly enough. Naoya has been kind enough, but he always takes what he wants. Still, he will be nice one last time. “I’m gonna fuck you how I want to now, okay whore? You’re gonna be a good girl and take it anyways, right?” He gives you no time to prepare as he slams into you, bottoming out, forcibly deflowering you. The pain hurts, but Naoya is relentless. He pulls out and briefly gives you a moment of respite before slamming his cock back into your cunt. Despite the pain, the feeling is like never before as his body is pushed against yours, cock ramming in and out of your hole. Your cute moans are like music to his ears.

He leans down towards your face, seeming like he’s going to kiss you but instead spits on you. He moves a hand to grasp around your throat as you’re looking up at, unable to make any sound as his cock abuses your hole. The pressure and lack of air make your head feel dizzy as he spits again, degrading you. “You like that too, huh, stupid slut.” He hips pick up speed, pulling out before repeatedly bottoming out into your cunt. He lets go of your neck, allowing you to gasp for air. He would never admit it, but the sound of you struggling to breathe drives him insane.

He spits on his hand and moves it to your clit, fervently rubbing your bud, bringing you closer to your second orgasm of the night. You feel the waves of pleasure overwhelm your body as he’s raw dogging your cunt and relentlessly abusing your clit. Your moans are laced with pleasure, dripping with your ecstasy as you cum over Naoya’s cock, tightening your walls around him.

Naoya mercilessly fucks your virgin hole like he deserves it, like it’s owed to him. Whatever he wants, he gets. He’s grunting as moaning as he picks up speed, fucking you like an animal. “Hey bitch, ah fuck—I’m gonna cum in you. You’re gonna take it like a good girl alright?” He lightly slaps your face as he’s finishing his sentence, bottoming out for the last time before he slams back inside your cunt and paints your insides white. You can feel the warmth of his seed filling you; there’s so much of it that it leaks out, a lewd sight before Naoya as he looks down at where you’re both connected. Before he can pull out and clean himself, the door to the guest room slightly creaked open as if it had been left ajar, not fully closed. Naoya cursed himself for not closing and locking the door.

Megumi had been standing there for not even 5 minutes when he went to check on you and bring you to dinner. He was approaching your room when he heard faint moaning coming from your room. He was confused and curious, stopping in front of your door as he noticed it was left slightly open. What he saw left him shocked and speechless, unable to move or avert his gaze through the crack.

He heard you more than he could see you clearly, but your moans that are more beautiful than a symphony of angels was more than enough to make Megumi’s cock strain in his pants. He peered closer, unable to see who was fucking you but still able to see your bodies colliding. He couldn’t deny how erotic it was to see you get fucked, but a twang of jealousy and pain struck his heart that he wasn’t the one making your body shake in pleasure.

He hears a voice, it sounds familiar although he can’t quite place it, telling you he’s about to cum. Megumi leans forward more, slightly pushing the door as he watches the other man breed you. Just as the door squeaks, the man’s head whips to see the door and he makes eye contact with Megumi.

“____, what are you doing?” Megumi questions as he practically stumbles into the room. You lift your head to see Megumi looking at you and Naoya in horror. Shame and embarrassment overcome you, and you move to cover yourself with some blankets as Naoya got off of you and faced Megumi,

“I think it’s more appropriate to ask what are you doing, Megumi?” Naoya’s staring daggers into Megumi; he’s unaffected that his family member caught him in a compromising position, almost as if he’s used to it.

“I was coming to get ___ for dinner… I didn’t realize she was busy being a disgusting fucking whore and sleeping with my family though.” He looks over to you, making eye contact as he sees tears form in the corners of your eyes. He doesn’t actually think you’re disgusting, quite the opposite in fact. But he’s so upset that someone else got to be with you first, and Naoya of all people. As if that scum deserved to be with someone like you.

Naoya could instantly tell what was going on here. He can read Megumi like a book, and smirks as he grabs fistfuls of your hair and pulls you against his chest to taunt Megumi. “Looks like you lost. This is why I’ve always been superior to you. You wanted this little slut, huh? Mad that I broke her in first, aren’t you?” His voice is laced with amusement as he provokes Megumi. He pulls your head to be almost level with his as he spits onto your face. “Your little friend is quite the slut, I had a lot of fun using her like the whore she is. She probably wouldn’t even mind if you joined in, isn’t that right bitch?”

Despite the predicament you were in, you couldn’t help but feel aroused at Naoya’s manhandling and suggestion of Megumi joining in. It had never crossed your mind, although Megumi is quite attractive, you didn’t think he was interested. You were only able to mutter out a small “yes” as you look over to Megumi, noticing the flush in his cheeks reaching all the way to the ends of his ears, and the straining bulge in his pants.

“I’m sorry, ___... Be good for me, please?” He was almost pleading as he was walking over to the bed, already starting to strip.

“You can hurt her and call her names, that dumb whore likes it.” Naoya says, moving aside to let Megumi have easier access to you. You’re still lying on your back, barely recovered from getting your guts rearranged only minutes before. Megumi stands in front of you before kneeling down to get at eye level with your cunt. Naoya hadn’t been able to get up since Megumi stumbled into the room; because of this, your womb was filled to the brim with Naoya’s hot cum leaking out of your small hole. Megumi’s eyes were immediately locked on at the lewd sight before him when he used both hands to grip your thighs and spread them apart.

He moved a slender finger past your leaking hole, scooping a bit of cum up with his fingers as he dragged his finger across your clit. The sharp inhale and moan you made sounded absolutely divine to Megumi, urging him to keep going. “Good girl…” he purrs, as he moves his long fingers down to your hole again, once again scooping another glob of cum. “Sit up, slut,” He commands as he stands up. You comply, not willing to play any games in a situation like this. He shoves his cum covered fingers into your mouth; you lap it up and suck his fingers without having to be told anything. Megumi grins. “Good girl, ____. Such a good girl.”

“I bet you like that, don’t you slut?” You hear Naoya’s remark from aside you, he’s watching all of this unfold right before him. Megumi takes his fingers out of your mouth, Naoya grips you with fistfuls of hair and forces you to look at him. “Answer me, bitch.” He glares at you intensely.

“Yes… yes sir… I do.” You try to look anywhere except him but Naoya isn’t having it.

“When men are speaking, you show them the respect they deserve. That means you answer clearly and fucking pay attention. Got it?” He tugs your head to face him, leaning in closer until he’s only a few inches from your face. “Open your mouth, bitch. And don’t swallow until I tell you to.” You comply and he spits into your mouth, before closing the gap and letting his lips crash into yours. He bites your lip, drawing blood. The metallic essence mixes with his spit before Naoya leans back and instructs you to swallow. It feels perverse and humiliating to admit that it turned you on.

Megumi dropped onto his knees again, this time pushing his slender fingers into your cunt. It feels different this time for you; he’s gentler as he stretches you open. He takes his time adding more fingers, taking in every moment and feeling.

“Let’s change the position, yeah Megumi?” Naoya says it more as a statement and less of a question as he’s already moving to rest on the bed against the wall, pillows propping him up. He pulls you away from Megumi while simultaneously flipping you onto your tummy. He pulls you into his lap, supporting your arms until you’re able to prop yourself up above his cock. One hand grips the back of your head and pulls you closer to his thick cock. He pulls you by your hair, aligning your mouth with the tip of his cock as he forcefully shoves your head down. You nearly gag, pushing against him as he tries to use your mouth. Despite your resistance, Naoya doesn’t seem to care and is chasing his own high using you to get him off. You take him into your mouth, inexperienced but trying to adjust quickly. Naoya gives you barely any time to try and settle within the rhythm he’s created. You basically gag on his cock every time he plunges it slightly deeper than the last, but this only enhances Naoya’s pleasure.

While Naoya’s aggressive use of your mouth is going on, Megumi is taking his time to explore you from behind. His fingers are touching every part of your body he can get to, settling on your ass that he starts to spread apart. He’s entranced by the glistening of your cunt in the light, lost in thought about how lewd you look taking Naoya’s cock while bent over for him like a full course meal. He’s done with his “inspection” and moves one of his slender fingers to your entrance. He slips it in easily, listening to you moan with a cock stuffed in your mouth. Naoya pushes your head down farther along his length, trying to hit the back of your throat. You try to control your breathing in time with his rhythm.

Megumi slips another finger inside, stretching your cunt. “Fuck, ____, I didn’t think you were this tight.” He groans as he starts fucking you with his fingers. The lewd sounds he forces out you vibrate around Naoya’s cock. His other hand is grabbing fistfuls of your hair, face fucking you harder as your dripping cunt takes another of Megumi’s fingers. Megumi picks up pace, bringing another hand to your clit to add extra stimulation, but mostly so he can see you writhe and squirm under him while trying to hold yourself up.

“Will you be a good girl for me and cum, ___?” Megumi coos, stringing you along with his praises. “You look like such a dirty girl right now, already about to cum with just my fingers. So cute.” He finger fucks you harder now, making lewd wet noises as his fingers slam back into your pussy. His other hand is toying with your clit, drawing circles and rubbing the little button to bring you closer to your ecstasy. You can feel the knot tightening in your stomach, feeling yourself be pushed over the edge with his fingers alone.

Naoya thrusts into your throat, choking you and momentarily leaving you without air as Megumi pushes you over the edge. You feel your cunt tighten around his fingers as the waves of pleasure wash over you, the lack of air adding to your heightened senses. You moan as you’re cumming, giving just enough sensation to Naoya for him to creampie your throat. His cum is being forced down your throat, yet there’s still so much that some leaks from the corners of your mouth as his cock is pushed against the back of your throat. He finally shows mercy and pulls out as you’re coming down from your high. You force yourself to as much as you can before gasping for air, panting as you trying to calm down again.

“You did a good job taking all of me, slut.” Naoya grins as he lifts your chin with one of his fingers, leaning down to give you a kiss as you share his cum in your mouth. You didn’t think he’d be into some perverted shit like that, yet he’s basically tongue fucking your mouth still full of his cum. He pulls away, a long string of saliva and cum still connecting you two.

Megumi watches you two, his cock throbbing so intensely it almost hurts. He wastes no time in pulling his pants and boxers down before spitting in his hand and lubing his cock up. He’s shuffling behind you, lining himself up with your cunt before he pushes in at full force, giving you no time to adjust to his monstrous cock. You let out a yelp, air evacuating your lungs at the surprise intrusion. He’s balls deep near instantly in your tight hole, stretching you open with a cock that is even girthier than Naoya’s.

Naoya is watching you, grinning, and lazily stroking his cock. You have no idea how he’s able to keep going for multiple rounds, only a little bit of time in between. But you don’t care. The man in front of you is irresistibly hot even though his attitude is garbage. You would do anything he asked no matter how degrading it is in hopes that he would manhandle you again. As these thoughts cross your mind, Megumi reels you back into reality as he pushes so deep into your womb you’re sure he probably bruised your cervix.

“Your pussy is amazing, sweetheart. You have no idea… hah.. how long I’ve been wanting this.” Megumi praises you, unable to control his breathy moans as he continues fucking you with full force. One of your arms is pulled to your side, Megumi interlocking fingers and holding your hand as he drills into you. Even in a situation like this, he can’t help but do some cute shit.

His other hand lightly smacks your ass as you whimper in pleasure, unable to hide the fact that you like it a little rough. Megumi lets go of your hand as you feel both his arms snake around your waist, pulling you up and against his chest as he fucks you. Your back is to his chest, on full display for Naoya in front of you. His shiteating grin is plastered on his face as he has a front row view of Megumi’s cock sliding in and out of you. He gets up from his seated position to face you. Megumi’s arms are still wrapped around your body, supporting you as he drills into your cunt. You can feel his breath against your neck and hear his soft whimpers in your ear. “You’re doing so well, slut. Such a good girl for me huh?” He whispers into your ear. His words send chills down your spine as he keeps ramming his cock into you, abusing your poor hole.

Naoya moves closer to you, his face only a few inches away from yours. He kisses you slowly, before aggressively trying to fill your mouth with his tongue. He pulls away, spits on your face, and lightly slaps your face. “You love taking your friend’s cock, huh? Didn’t think it would be that good, did you? Who knew you’d be the family’s fuckdoll.” He chuckles at his degrading joke, but you couldn’t help but internalize his words. You have no idea how you got to be in this situation, but you were definitely not complaining. Something about multiple men of the same family using you how they liked made your cunt drip at the mere thought of it.

Naoya moves his mouth to your neck, leaving little marks on your skin to prove he was there. Little bruises of his lust for you, marking your skin like you’re property. Megumi start pulling out with only the tip left inside, before bottoming out into your cunt. He groans beside you, lost in the addictive pleasure that is you. Megumi was no virgin, but he believed you were the best person he’s ever fucked, your body insanely attractive and your personality catching and reeling him, unable to resist you.

Naoya moves back before bringing a hand to your neck, gripping your throat and momentarily cutting off your oxygen. “Megumi… fuck this bitch harder when I choke her, okay? She fucking loves it.” And he wasn’t wrong, you did love it. He gripped your throat, a smirk planted on his features as he watched you helpless and at his mercy. Some drool started dripping out of your mouth and you could feel your vision starting to haze around the edges. Megumi fucked into you harder, pulling you closer to his body. Naoya let his grip loosen a bit around your throat, enough to allow some air to fill your lungs again.

“I’m close, baby. I’m gonna fill you up okay? Be a good girl and take all of it for me.” Megumi purrs beside you. Naoya takes this moment to strengthen the grip around your throat, cutting off your air. You feel Megumi’s speed pick up, him desperately chasing his orgasm. You can hear his staggered whimpers as he empties his load into your cunt, filling your already full womb even more. Naoya releases his hand from your throat, making you choke and gasp for air. He’s looking down at you with sadistic satisfaction as you struggle to catch your breath.

Megumi pulls out and lets go of your waist, and you plop down onto the bed absolutely fucked out. Naoya is quick to get off the bed and start dressing. He finishes so quickly it’s as if he was speedrunning it (he has done this many, many, MANY times before). He gives you a quick peck on the lips and gently rubs your cheek before starting to walk towards the door. “See you soon, slut,” he says as he walks out, closing the door behind him this time. Megumi returns with a clean towel, gently cleaning you up as you just lay their like a limp fish.

“You did so well for me. Thank you,” he says as he kisses your cheeks and then your lips before pulling away and picking up some clothes for you. He tosses you a simple outfit to wear and begins dressing himself as well. “Ready for dinner? You’re gonna meet the rest of my family now.” You nod your head yes, anticipating who else you’re going to meet.

‹𝟹 notes: this was originally suppsed to be a oneshot, but i felt like it was getting too long. i have plans for all of them and wasn't going to be able to execute it in just a oneshot. let me know what y'all think!

feedback is always appreciated!! thank you all!!!

ch 2 (soon)

‹𝟹 notifs: @vvxxccaa @arylaa @starshipxoxo

ʚ join my notifs ɞ

(･ω･)つ divider creds to @/cafekitsune and @/eloquentreverie

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into-the-feniverse · 2 months

Text

Finished reading Trigun/TriMax a couple days ago and have been feverishly trying to piece together a timeline, so here’s the result of that ✨

EDIT: as of 3/13/24 this has been UPDATED

For a more detailed timeline (with vol/ch marks): google sheet

Full res of the graphic (& other resources): bit.l/trigunresources

Notes & rest of the timeline under the cut!

Edits as of 3/13/24

The detailed spreadsheet is organized and color coded! If you'd like a more concise breakdown of events/see some of my reasoning behind certain time stamps feel free to skim through that

Changed where in the timeline the Maylene and Wolfwood events happened (originally where I had placed them would have made Maylene like 6 when she and Wolfwood reunited which is NOT correct)

moved where in the timeline Knives started collecting the GungHo Guns (at latest he started in 0090 (20 years before 0110) since it's noted that Monev has been training in a cellar for the past 20 years

Moved where Knives initially tracked down Conrad (felt like it needed to happen at least a decade before July)

Changed up some of the months (personally, I don't think the Ark launched in December, since that'd put Milly and Meryl's arrival to the colony in July, which wouldn't make sense. So I placed the ark launch in October which of course offset some of the other month stand ins)

Added an earth year for when Knives and Vash are born. The explanation is I think at minimum there was at least a 2 year period between them and Tesla (since Rem was around for that whole process). I do think it was more than that, but that’s the earliest possible year I think it could have happened. Personally I’m more in the camp of 5-10 years, but def not 50 like in tristamp

Old Notes:

If you see any typos or phrase inconsistencies: no you don’t 💕 (😭)

Blue text can be completely ignored, that’s just kinda my personal preference/wild guesstimating of when “exactly” those events happened

Blue lines can also be ignored, they’re also just rough guesstimates on where exactly in the timeline these could have happened

The distance of the lines from one another doesn’t really mean anything, I started trying to follow a system to notate when things happened really close together but it was//// not consistently done ngl

Fun fact: by the time Wolfwood leaves the orphanage Meryl is 18! And she was 14 at the time of July’s destruction

Additional fun fact: Brad is 17 when he and sensei meet up with Vash in the Factioned city (which I think is absolutely RIDICULOUS), and we know this because he was 4 the one/last time he had met Vash and it’s been 13 years since

It was noted by Karen, one of Meryl’s coworkers, that she and Milly had been on assignment with Vash for about 4 months. (Might be that they were out searching for him during that time as well, but I’m choosing to interpret it as they were actually with him for that amount of time)

I’m also working on a 98 timeline for comparison (but more like just sequence of events cause I don’t think I have the patience to sift through the lore quite as much… mainly making it just to clarify how the anime delineates from the manga)

I am//::: feeling v unhinged after this and feel like it could be improved/i need to do a more thorough read, but I’m calling it quits for now before I actually go insane (but hopefully some people will find it somewhat helpful!)

Also: if anybody has any notes to add or clarifications/corrections I would be more than happy to hear them 👂

#resources #Trigun maximum #Trigun #trigun manga #TriMax #used my last and only braincell on this I swear #also guess I’m expanding on my blog organizing tags —>#timelines #btw this is updated!

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peterpparkrr · 1 year

Text

Banter (Ch. 3)

Series: Banter

Pairing: Roy Kent x f!Reader

Summary: You break the ice with Roy and befriend Rebecca. Keeley lays down the facts with Roy.

A/N: I started a new job today!! Getting this up and out before the insanity of all of that begins.

(Ch. 1) (Ch. 2) // (Ch. 4) (Ch. 5)

series masterlist

Shutterbug: Hey

Shutterbug: Can we talk?

You messaged Roy two days ago and still hadn’t gotten a response.

Maybe he’d deleted the app. You’d certainly been tempted to after your failed date.

But Keeley was right. You needed to talk to him. To properly communicate now that you weren’t dealing with heightened emotions.

That’s what a real adult did. And God above did you want to behave like an adult.

But you were also dreading it. Keeley had made you second guess your assumptions about that night. You’d barely had time to dissect your own feelings about discovering it had been Roy that you’d been talking to for weeks. How that affected your feelings about him. It made sense that perhaps you’d been a bit too hasty in deciphering his own feelings about it based on his unreliable facial expressions.

But maybe Keeley was just giving you false hope. After two days with no answer, it was hard to read into that anything other than disinterest. Or maybe even some outright disdain.

“Roy!” You shouted.

You were back at AFC Richmond today to meet with Keeley and Rebecca. You had proofs to show them from the shoots and even though you had initially wished this meeting could have been virtual – or better yet – an email.

But now that you could see Roy Kent’s all-black form heading down the hallway ahead of you this presented a unique opportunity for you to put on your big girl pants and attempt a conversation.

Though, even with your ear-piercing shout that had caused every other person walking through the halls to turn and stare at you, Roy seemed to be intentionally ignoring you.

“Roy!” You tried again. Now walking at a near pace just below a jog to catch up to him.

You heard a grunt in response this time.

When you reach him he finally turns around and you try to remind yourself that the glare on his face is a permanent resident so as to not deter you from saying what you need to say.

“I just wanted to clear the air,” You tell him as he stares back at you.

“After last week and the whole… y’know,” You add to fill the silence.

“Mhmm,” Roy grunts.

“I just wanted to apologize if I came across rudely that night,” You continue. “I think we were both just surprised and obviously you wouldn’t have even shown up if you knew it was me so I’m sorry.”

You catch Roy’s bushy eyebrows furrow slightly and he parts his lips as if he wants to interject but he doesn’t say anything.

“We’re going to have to see each other around,” You continue. “Keeley keeps adding shoot days to this project.”

“Can we just… I don’t know, be friends?” You ask. “Colleagues?”

“Colleagues it is,” Roy replies with a nod.

“Great!” You reply with a relieved smile.

“See you around, Roy,” You tell him as you head up the stairs to Rebecca Welton’s office.

“You’ll be very proud of me, Keels, I just spoke to Roy in the hallway and neither of us yelled or insulted the other,” You announce as you walk through the open door leading into Rebecca’s office to see Keeley sitting in one of the chairs in front of her desk, her legs hooked over the armrest.

Keeley simply grins at you and you hear a small chuckle from the side of the room and see Rebecca Welton in all her glory fixing herself a cup of tea while she glances over her shoulder at you in clear amusement.

“Oh! Hi, Rebecca!” You exclaim as you try to figure out how to backtrack out of the personal information you just shared about yourself with the women signing your paychecks for this gig.

“Hello,” She greets you with a smile as she gestures for you to take a seat next to Keeley while she makes her way to sit behind her desk.

“Is that an impressive feat for you and Roy? Not arguing?” Rebecca asks.

“Um, yes,” You tell her. “This is the first time we’ve managed that.”

“Ah,” Rebecca replies with a nod.

“They matched on Bantr and their first date didn’t exactly go to plan,” Keeley adds.

“Keeley!” You hiss as you reach out to swat your friend and her oversharing.

“Oh, don’t worry about it, it happens to the best of us,” Rebecca reassures you. “I’m happy to share any number of my dating horror stories if it will make you feel better. But seeing as the most glaring one is plastered all over the tabloids every week I’m guessing you have some idea.”

“Rupert Manion’s a dick,” You reply without even thinking about it, causing Rebecca to choke on the sip of tea she’d just taken.

“That’s what I always tell her!” Keeley emphatically agreed.

“I can see why you two are friends now,” Rebecca replies with a small shake of her head.

“Should we look at the proofs before we end up tracking down a feminist rally and burning all our bras?” You offer as you pull your iPad out of your bag.

“Yes, plenty of time for all that after the meeting,” Rebecca replies, shooting you a look.

You grin back. Now you understand why Keeley likes Rebecca so much, you’re already bordering on obsessed with this woman.

You spend the next hour showing them your work and discussing how it can be used for the team’s marketing and communications before you work on coming up with a plan for what else they still need.

By the end of the meeting, you’ve made great headway on your plan and you’re also already ready for a drink.

“There’s a great little cocktail bar a few blocks down, should we toast to your amazing work and our success?” Rebecca asks as your trio walks down the hallway out to the car park.

“I’m always down for a drink or three,” You reply with a grin.

“Keels?” You ask as you turn to see if Keeley is down to come out too. You can’t imagine Keeley ever turning down the option to go out, but you never know. But when you glance at her she’s glancing back down the hallway at something.

“Yes! Totally!” Keeley replies after a moment. I just need to grab something from my office real quick, but I’ll meet you two there, kay?”

“Okay,” Rebecca replies. “Shall we?”

“Yeah, we’ll order your first glass,” You tell Keeley before heading out the door behind Rebecca.

Keeley turns on her heels once the door closes behind you and Rebecca and makes a beeline down the hallway to where Roy is in his office playing with lineups on a whiteboard.

“Roy,” Keeley calls softly as she pokes her head through the door.

“Keeley,” Roy greets her as he glances up at her briefly.

“I heard about what happened,” She tells him.

“Fucking hell,” Roy replies with a sigh. Trying not to let his irritation at anyone knowing about his vulnerability show. Even if that person is only Keeley. One of the nicest people he knows. But the sympathy or pity or whatever you want to call it in her voice is grating.

“And when you just walked past us you looked like a grumpy little kitty so I wanted to check on you,” Keeley says.

“I didn’t-” Roy hisses before he catches himself and takes a deep breath. “I don’t need your fucking pity, Keeley.”

“I know, but I’m also (Y/N)’s best friend, and I know how hard it is for her to be vulnerable. Frankly, I’m surprised that the two of you ending up on a date didn’t go worse. You two are some of the worst communicators I’ve ever met.”

“Thanks?”

“What I’m trying to say,” Keeley says as she tries to get herself back on track. “Is that you both suck at being vulnerable. And a blind date with someone you already have some tension with was bound to blow up in your faces. And that’s no one’s fault! But she really liked you, Roy, the version of you that she met on the app. And she likes Roy Kent too, as much as she would hate to admit it.”

“If you both want to, I think you two should try again,” She tells Roy.

“She told me earlier that she just wanted to be friends,” Roy replies as he shakes his head at Keeley. “She doesn’t like me. I’d have to be a fucking idiot not to understand that.”

“Because she thinks that’s what you want,” Keeley argues. “She thinks that you’re the one that doesn’t like her and you obviously think the opposite.”

“The two of you need to be honest about your feelings and figure this out,” She tells her.

“I’m going to bring her to Sam’s restaurant opening,” Keeley adds. “Talk to her.”

Roy watches Keeley turn to leave and stares at the now-closed door to the office as he tries to process everything she just told him.

Could you really like him back but have rejected him in some strange self-defense mechanism? Roy would hate the idea of someone doing that to him if I didn’t know in the back of his mind that he had done the same thing.

How is he supposed to set the lineup for the Manchester United game with all of this shit in his head?

“FUCK!” He hisses as he turns back to the board in front of him.

“Oh!” a small voice squeaks and Roy whips around to see Will standing at the door with a box of cleats. “I just- I’ll just um, I’m going to-”

“Spit it out!” Roy huffs. “I’ll just leave these here,” Will whispers as he sets the box down and essentially runs out of the room.

Now what was Roy supposed to do?

#ted lasso #ted lasso fanfic #roy kent #roy kent fanfic #roy kent x reader #roy kent drabble #roy kent reader insert #ted lasso reader insert #ted lasso series #roy kent series #keeley jones

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wardenparker · 1 year

Text

Down the Rabbit Hole - ch 3

Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

When Jack accidentally shoots a civilian on a mission he takes on not only the guilt of the man’s death, but inherits his soulmate as well. To you, it’s a dream job with more perks than you can imagine - but for Jack it’s a nightmarish complication. Even more so when he starts to develop feelings.

Rating: General audiences, but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 16.3k Warnings: *Blanket warnings - mentions of deceased spouse, a lot of food and alcohol consumption, family recipes, age gap, cursing.* Flirting, discussions of deceased soulmates. Not too many warnings for this one, although Jack and shopping is a personal fantasy of mine. Summary: A party and a day out together give you some time to get to know Jack a little bit better. Notes: Sorry for the post delay this week, everyone, but thank you all for being so supportive. Health is a struggle but fiction is a beautiful escape.

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10 ~ Ch 11 ~ Ch 12 ~ Ch 13 ~ Ch 14 ~ Ch 15 ~ Epilogue

Jack eyes Champ, frowning slightly at the older man as he shoots him a grin across the room. He's been cagey lately, smirking at him like he knows a secret that he won't tell Jack. Something that he knows drives the senior agent crazy. Instead of walking across the room and demanding he tell him what is on his mind, Jack turns towards you. Watching as you meet Ginger's soulmate, Gabriella.

Just a little get together, Diana had said when she called you, smiling down the phone as she issued the invitation. To celebrate! Well, Diana’s idea of small was two or three dozen people - all Statesman employees and their families - gathered at the Rogers’ house for a weekend barbecue. It seems like the whirlwind of introductions may never stop, but this bright and happy woman named Gabriella and the two children that she seems to be an expert at wrangling just put you at ease. Introducing yourself seems a little redundant since this is a party to welcome you specifically, but the kids don’t care - just as kids tend not to. They wave hello and ask their mother if they can go play with the other kids, and are off like a shot the instant they get a ‘yes’.

“They’re sweet,” you say, smiling despite how much you miss your niece and nephew. It’s only been five days since you saw them last, but that’s the longest you’ve gone without seeing them ever.

"They are wild." Gabriella corrects you with a laugh, looking after her kids with the fondness of a parent of someone well accustomed to their antics. "But they promised to behave under threat of torture."

“I wish that worked on my nephew.” When she pats the arm of the chair beside her, you sit down gratefully. Deciding to dress up for this party shouldn’t have included heels, that’s your own fault. “When my niece is finally old enough to be his sidekick, everyone’s going to be in trouble.”

"Menaces, huh?" She chuckles and sips her spiked lemonade before she shrugs, keeping an eye on her own troublemakers. "That just means they will have each other's backs when they are older."

“I hope so.” They have good examples to follow, at least, with how close you are to your siblings. Even if you’re not physically close to each other anymore. “So…this is what counts as a ‘little’ get together around here?” Diana had poured you a spiked lemonade a few moments ago, and you’d added peach nectar as your fruit flavor of choice from the bar of fruit flavored syrups and liqueurs by the large bar set up in the kitchen counter. It’s the best lemonade you’ve ever had in your life.

"Any excuse to have a party is Diana's reason for living." Gabriella jokes, motioning to where she is fluttering around talking to people with the largest smile on her face. Her husband ambles behind her, much slower in pace as he allows her to do as she pleases with a fond smile on his own face and a whiskey in his hand.

“A woman after my own heart,” you laugh, looking over in time to see a young man maybe a few years younger than yourself receive an enthusiastic kiss to his cheek and be shooed inside with lipstick on his cheek. “Their son?” It’s not exactly a stretch to guess. He has Champ’s stance and his mother’s thick head of hair.

"Bobby." She confirms with a nod. "He’s back home for a bit after being overseas for the last two years."

“Something fun, I hope.” But you won’t pry, enjoying the easy atmosphere on this sunny afternoon.

"Oh yeah, he's been traveling for Statesman and has been a little homesick." She murmurs, aware that you aren't aware of the real reason for international travel from some of the Statesman employees. Her wife had filled her in before the party.

“I like that it’s a family operation.” Turning back to Gabriella, you take a sip of your lemonade and smile. “Do you mind if I ask how long you’ve been here?” You don’t know their story - her and Astrid - but as the newest arrival to what Champ and Diana jovially call ‘the Statesman family’ you feel like you want to know everything.

Gabriella smiles, looking over at Astrid with stars in her eyes. “We found each other about seven years ago. Damn lucky honestly. What with–” She bites her lip, knowing she shouldn’t say the real reason. “Astrid doesn’t have any scars.”

“I noticed that a lot of people don’t seem to have tattoos, either.” It’s just a vague observation, but coming from the culinary world where so many of your coworkers have large pieces or even whole sleeves, it surprises you. “I guess I’m alone in that one.”

“Yeah.” Gabriella gives a slightly nervous chuckle. “There’s actually an incentive to have them removed here. You should look into it. If you want, of course.” If she could get you to remove the tattoos without any suspicion, Jack would be in the clear.

“Why would I want to do that?” Your left hand moves protectively to cover your right elbow, and you think back to your contract to make sure you haven't glazed over anything. There had certainly been a dress code portion of the employee handbook, but nothing about tattoos or piercings. Not even a note on ‘acceptable’ hair colors.

“I meant no offense.” She immediately back pedals and gives a small smile. “I’ve just known plenty of people here who have decided they don't want their tattoos anymore. People change what they once liked…you know.”

“Oh, sure.” That’s true, certainly, and you relax a little. “I guess that’s fair. I just can’t see a single reason I would want to get rid of mine. I just made sure to get it in a place that I could cover, ya know? Just in case. Some fine dining restaurants don’t like to have them showing.”

“Of course.” She bobbles her head quickly, not wanting to alienate you with a thoughtless comment. She wasn’t supposed to know that you are Jack’s soulmate but Astrid had let it slip. “I know all about the ‘professional’ world. I was in the corporate rat race before I found Astrid.”

“Then that makes you a much braver woman than I.” You laugh and sit back in your chair. “I don’t know how you survived it, honestly.” All that corporate nonsense does nothing for you and it never has - no part of your extraordinary life is ever going to revolve around file numbers.

“Oh I’m much happier now with our little house to keep and our kids to wrangle.” She promises. “And just listening to Astrid talk about work gives me all the adventure I could ever want.”

“It’s not that little.” No, you see their house in the walk to work every morning now, and it certainly isn’t petite like yours is. Not that you need more than that for just you and the Dormouse. “You’ve got your slice of heaven, I think. It’s kind of…” You shrug, figuring you’re probably over sharing, but it’s always coming out of your mouth. “Kind of what I always wanted. That idyllic family life.”

“I never knew I wanted it.” Gabriella has no problem admitting that she had never imagined domestic bliss or being a stay-at-home mom when she was climbing the corporate ladder. “Now, I couldn’t imagine anything else.”

“I wouldn’t give up my career for anything.” Anybody who asked you to would be in for a rude awakening. “But a family? That’s…that’s still the dream.” Even with your soulmate, the idea of finding someone isn’t ridiculous. Plenty of people do it every day…right?

“I understand.” Gabriella looks over to where her youngest has spotted Jack and is currently climbing up his leg. Jack smiles and laughs as he swings the boy up onto his shoulders, but there is the underlying sadness underneath. “Sometimes the dreams are all you have.”

“Sometimes they are.” Too lost in your own melancholy overlong losing your soulmate, you don’t see Gabriella’s eyes move to Jack with her son. You don’t even notice Astrid and Tex step up onto the porch together.

“Well, look at you.” Tex whistles as he looks you up and down. “Ain’t you pretty as a picture? You having fun?”

“Hey you.” The sound of his voice is familiar - one of the only things that is familiar around here - and you perk up a little to see two familiar faces. “You made it.” To be honest, you didn’t really know who Diana had invited, but you figured it was a good chance that Tex would be here considering he had been your flight companion and part of your testing team. He seems to be involved in everything the same way Jack is.

“Damn near didn’t.” Tequila admits. “Amsterda—” He cuts off abruptly and shakes his head. “I mean, an armadillo managed to get into one of the storage houses.” He covers his slip up with a mile wide grin. “But I made it.”

“Is that why I haven’t seen you in days?” You pop up from your seat to give him a hug and choose not to say anything about the fact that he was definitely about to say something else. “Because of an armadillo?”

“Tricky suckers.” He huffs, giving you an extra squeeze before he lets go of you. Gabriella sends Astrid a pointed look and then glances at Tequila.

“If I find one in my garden, I’m calling you.” It’s barely a threat, and you don’t have a proper garden yet, but you’ll get there eventually.

“You can call me even if you don’t.” Tex tells you, making Astrid clear her throat and capture everyone’s attention. “Should we get something to eat?” She asks when your head turns towards her.

“Lead the way.” Champ seems to have deputized his son to help him look after the large grill on the other side of the yard, and Jack is nearby with a drink in hand when the four of you approach together.

Astrid and Gabriella whisper together ahead of you as you make your way towards the tables laden down with sides and desserts. None of them yours yet, but a potluck off all those who wanted to contribute.

“I wish Diana hadn’t insisted on just being a guest.” Walking beside Tex, you look over at the table of various desserts with affection. Sweets are what you do, after all. “I would have made a couple of cakes to bring.”

"You aren't supposed to bring food to your own shindig." Jack huffs, walking up toward the group and nods towards you. "It's not how it's done here in the south, sugar."

“I guess I have a few things to learn.” You half step forward to offer him a hug, having left things on a good note after your night at the bar earlier in the week, but you’re not still quite sure what Jack thinks of you and you don’t want to make things weird - so instead you end up just stepping forward awkwardly and looking like your arms don’t work properly. “How have you been, Jack?”

He knows that you are expecting a hug and doesn't know quite how to ask for one. It's slightly awkward, especially since Jack just came back from the funeral of your former soulmate. It had taken a couple of days for his family to be notified and then another week for the body to be shipped back to his hometown. Jack hadn't introduced himself, just stood off a respectful distance while the man he had taken a future from had been lowered into the ground. "As good as I can be." He tells you, looping his arm around you and squeezing you to his side in a friendly manner, although his hand is lower than appropriate on your waist.

“I hope nothing’s wrong?” The side hug is a little awkward but there’s warmth to it - or at least there is to you. It wouldn’t be the first time you imagined that someone enjoyed your company more than they actually did. “Sweets can solve any myriad of problems, you know.”

"Nothing that a party with everyone I care about can't fix." Jack hums, a flash of pain that seems bittersweet and vague for Abigail not being here is almost as a reflex now. He suppresses it and grins. "But I'm eager for another sample of your cakes."

“I’m going to start working on the menu next week,” you tell everyone, chest absolutely bursting with pride. “So I’m going to need everybody to stop by the kitchen a couple of times to try out what I’ll be baking. As many times as you want to come by, I’d love to get the feedback.”

"Everyday." The promise pops out of his lips before he could ever even think about not speaking.

Not expecting such an immediate and earnest response, you practically beam. “Then I’ll start with cakes. By the end of the week you’ll never want to go near buttercream again.”

"Don't tell him that." Tequila rolls his eyes and shoulder checks Jack playfully. "This man keeps bags of candy in his desk all the time."

“Oh yeah?” You raise an eyebrow at Jack and smirk. “What’s your favorite?” Sometimes the smallest thing can be a big inspiration, so you’re never going to shy away from asking the question.

Jack frowns at Tequila for ratting him out and huffs. "I like Snickers." He admits with a modest shrug of his shoulders.

“Noted.” The urge to do something in Jack’s honor on your menu is seemingly expanding far beyond his affinity for your tea sandwiches, but on the outside all you do is smile. You haven’t had a crush like this in ages, and it doesn’t help that you’re nursing one for Tex at the same time.

"I like Zero bars." Tex adds, his brows lifted hopefully as he pushes his hands into his pockets. He really likes you, drawn to you in a way he hasn't felt before and he wants to ask you out.

“Which are, arguably, a white chocolate version of a Snickers.” It starts to turn your wheels even more, wondering if you can’t do something with caramel and peanuts that uses two types of chocolate.

"I keep telling you that." Jack smirks at Tex and shakes his head. "Boy doesn't know anything."

“It just means they can work well together.” Completely oblivious to any undertones in the conversation, you just shrug your shoulders and let your wheels grind on a recipe idea while the group of you moves up along the picnic tables to get something to eat.

Tequila frowns at Jack but he doesn’t feel guilty. The boy needs to sniff around somewhere else. It’s obvious you aren’t interested and you’re grieving your soulmate.

“What in the hell is going on?” Ginger whispers, hiding in Jack’s ear as Gabriella and Tequila whisk you toward one end of the tables to the immense batch of tamales that Ginger’s wife made for the occasion.

“What are you talking about?” Jack asks, feigning ignorance. “We’re at a party. That’s what’s going on.”

“You and Tequila.” She fixes him with a frown and pushes her glasses up on her nose a little. “You’re not normally this subtle, I’ll give you that. But it’s like watching peacocks.”

“Peacocks?” Jack frowns and looks over at where you and Tequila have your heads together over the table and there are the sounds of laughter. “You’re imagining things.” He scoffs. “Nobody’s actin’ like a peacock. Just bein’ friendly to the girl.”

“Jack.” Ginger frowns. She wears her cover for her friends on her sleeve and makes no apologies for it. “I know you might not…all things considered, I get it. Not saying anything to her. But please tell me that you told him?”

“Sure I did.” Jack nods, rolling his eyes. “Showed him the damn tattoos the day Champ benched me.”

“But you’re sure he knows it’s her?” She asks, searching his face with concern. When he rolls his eyes, her eyes pinch shut immediately. “It’s February, Jack. It might be warm enough for a backyard barbecue, but we’re all still wearing long sleeves.”

“Come on Ging– he went to pick her up.” Jack scoffs. “Don’t you think Champ told him that he was on an escort mission for my supposed soulmate?

“Honestly?” She shrugs, biting the inside of her lip while she thinks. “I think Champ told as few people as possible. So maybe he didn’t.” There is nothing supposed about you, but this isn’t the moment for that argument.

“Don’t see why it matters.” Liar. The voice in his head screams it but Jack just ignores it and forges ahead. “They are friendly. End of story.”

“If you say so.” The last thing she wants is to start an argument, so she’ll let it go for now. But Ginger knows Jack and Tequila and she knows their habits - and you’re getting at least one request for a date for Valentine’s Day next week. She just doesn’t know which one of them will be first.

Jack is happy she’s willing to drop it. Uncomfortable with the conversation, although he does side eye Tequila before he dismisses it. It’s not like he has a claim over you even if it was true. You aren’t his soulmate and there’s no way he’s yours. Not when his heart died years ago.

It takes two full plates before you’re finally stuffed, sitting in the afternoon sun in Champ’s backyard as most of the party has migrated indoors in anticipation of that same sun setting. There are still a few stragglers outside and you’re happy to be one of them - enjoying the sun’s rays while they’re still there to beat down on you. It’s been a lively afternoon and you’ve met a lot of very nice people, but stealing a few minutes alone has been nice, too.

Jack notices you off alone, nursing his beer as he watches you. Wondering what you think about this place, everyone here. He huffs to himself and stands, closing the gap between the two of you with no clue as to why. “Appreciating the silence or wantin’ some company?” He asks, knowing that if you want to be alone he’ll respect that.

“I wouldn’t say no to company.” Shifting to one side on the little bench you’ve been occupying, you make room for him to sit. You’ve always come to the conclusion that it would take a hell of a lot for you to say no to Jack.

He tries to tell himself that he shouldn’t be so pleased that you accepted his presence, but that doesn’t stop the quiet pride filling his chest. “No regrets so far?” He asks, looking over the party. Champ would have found something to make you stay, but he’s curious as to you wanting to be here. “Get your stuff easy enough?”

“I’m planning on running out tomorrow for a few things, but honestly the house is great.” It’s not like you owned that much to begin with, and the house came fully furnished. You’re just going to go wandering around housewares stores tomorrow to pick up some personal touches and to try some local restaurants while you’re out. “Everybody’s been so nice. Astrid actually sent flowers after I settled in, and Champ’s given me a key to the restaurant so I can be in the kitchen whenever I want. It’s all…pretty perfect.”

Jack knows that Champ might have put a tracker in the keys that he gave you. But he doesn’t like the idea of you going to town without some protection. “Want some company? Tomorrow?” Jack hears the edge to his voice and scolds himself for acting like an idiot. “I mean, I’ve got some errands to run and you can put whatever you buy into the back of the Bronco.” He tells himself that he’s responsible, at least until your tattoo on his skin goes away. Still convinced it’s the universe’s idea of a sick joke.

“You wouldn’t mind?” It’s not flirting, you remind yourself, although your heart does seem to pick up speed a little at the offer. “I mean…I was going to have lunch out while I was picking things up. So…my treat? As a thank you for driving?”

It’s his immediate reaction to protest. To remind you that his daddy would box his ears, but he catches your eyes. Pride. He’s more than a little familiar with the trait and he sees that you aren’t one to just expect someone to go and do. That you need to contribute to the outing. So he nods. “If you want, I can take you to my favorite country kitchen.” He offers. “They do a buffet of all the things folks love around here. Give you a feel for the area.”

“I’d love that.” It’s exactly the kind of thing you were hoping to find for yourself, but doing it with him sounds infinitely better. “Most of what I know about Southern cooking comes from my grandma, so I definitely want to try as many local places as I can.”

“Best food ever, although, come hungry.” He warns you. “They will be asking why you aren’t going back for thirds.”

“You’re assuming I wouldn’t happily eat thirds,” you laugh, amused by his serious tone. “I’ll go back every week if it’s that good.”

“Have you ever had cornbread so thin it’s like a pancake and fried until it’s crispy on the edges?” Jack asks you with a grin.

“We have something like that at home.” Johnnycakes are a New England classic, and you fell in love with the quick and tasty cornmeal pancakes during culinary school. “But I can’t wait to try the Southern version.” It sounds like it would be perfect for a caviar service if the tea room ever got that fancy…

“That with a piece of catfish fried to perfection is just like momma used to make.” He confides, winking at you playfully.

“Sounds like heaven.” One of these days you really have to stop shivering whenever he winks at you. But it won’t be today.

“That sounds like a plan.” Jack hates shopping, but he’s not going to let you go out to town by yourself. Or with Tequila, although he knows the boy is leaving on another mission.

“I haven’t lived on my own for a while, so there’s just some finishing touches I don’t have,” you explain, wondering why you feel the need to actually explain yourself at all. It just sort of…compels itself out of your mouth.

“Oh?” It almost startles him how quickly he focuses on that. “Lived with a lover?” He asks. “Statesman will let you bring someone to live with you if you’re trying the long distance thing. It doesn’t work - trust me.”

“I know it doesn’t.” While you didn’t really have any intention of talking about it today, there’s a Nudging feeling inside you that just wants to spill everything to Jack. To lay yourself proverbially bare and let this whole new beginning at Statesman be made of honesty instead of hiding pieces of yourself away. “I—a few years ago, I was with this person. Someone I thought was really going to last, ya know? I mean it wasn’t my soulmate but we had been together for years. Anyway…they got offered a job in New York. And we had all these plans for me to drive down to them and visit on off days and to make things work and they just…” You sigh, hating that everything that happened with your ex still hurts so badly. “It only took them two weeks to find someone else. So I left the apartment we’d been living in with our other friend and moved back in with my family. My little sister had just given birth to my nephew and every pair of hands that could help was welcome.” Rubbing your eyes, you huff ruefully and shrug your shoulders. “Sorry if that’s oversharing, I guess.”

“It’s not.” Jack wants to reach out and hug you, and that’s exactly why he doesn’t. He doesn’t deserve to comfort you and he doesn’t trust himself to not try. “Whoever they were, they were an idiot.” He can’t imagine just finding someone else. Not when you claim to love them. It’s why he’s been very careful to make sure that what he did have was very surface level physical pleasure. He hasn’t had an intimate connection since Abigail. Not real intimacy.

“They’re somebody else’s problem now.” If you wanted to, you could probably argue to yourself that Jack moved closer with this small moment of comfort, but you don’t want to tease yourself like that. You do like him, but it’s pretty clear that he doesn’t see you as more than a potential friend, so you don’t want to push anything. “I appreciate that.”

"Hopefully they step on Legos in the dark for the rest of their life." Jack jokes.

“You are cruel.” It draws a laugh from you anyway, a grateful feeling from being supported in a moment of emotional need. Things like this are easy with Jack - no matter how nervous you may get from your little crush, the softest moments are always easy. “But…on point, honestly. A lifetime of barefoot Lego steps would be pretty suitable.”

He laughs and feels like the moment is light and easy with you. Letting it settle over him like a soft blanket.

“Oh…” The memory hits you immediately and out of nowhere, as you sit in a moment of comfortable silence with Jack. “Tomorrow…I was going to go dress shopping, also. I completely forgot. So…if that doesn’t exactly sound like fun for you, I’ll totally get it.” It would be a disappointment to not spend the day with Jack now that you’ve made the plan, but you can’t imagine that womens’ clothes shopping holds any great appeal for him.

“I don’t mind going dress shoppin’.” Jack shrugs. “You know that it could be fun.” He hums, unable to resist imagining you in a sleek and sexy dress.

“I said yes to this wedding invitation ages ago and I just…haven't had any time to prepare.” The impulse to continue to explain yourself is obviously strong. “The plan was just to ignore my plus one and drive down to Boston on the day, but now it’ll be a flight and a hotel and all kinds of craziness and I—” You shrug. “They’re family, so I can’t just not go. So…I have to find a dress.”

“Wedding huh?” He relaxes slightly and shrugs. “You don’t have to ignore the plus one, I’m sure someone would love to go to a wedding.”

“Well, I’m friendly with about six people at the moment, and four of them are married couples.” Hope flames so strong in your chest that you’re sure he must see it. Maybe misinterpreted as a flash of desperation, but that isn’t it. You’re just…so fucking drawn to him. “So unless you or Tex is willing, I’ll just hang out with my siblings that night like I’ve been planning.”

“When and where is this little shindig happening?” Jack asks, smirking as he imagines perching you on his arm for a wedding and seeing how the rest of your family is. Even though the thought confuses him.

“The Whitney Hotel in Boston, a week from today.” Hope. It flares bright and beautiful in your whole body but you try not to look too much like a fawning schoolgirl. Without knowing how old Jack is, you would guess that he had about ten years on you, and you don’t want to come across as immature when you’re just being sincere.

Instantly, it’s like a bucket of ice water has been poured over his head. Except it’s no team celebration for winning a playoff or prank by Tequila. It’s the horror of realizing that you would have met the man you were supposed to be with if Jack hadn’t been there two weeks ago. Guilt curls in Jack’s stomach and the barbecue and baked beans he had eaten along with about a fourth of the dessert table threatens to make a reappearance. “Sounds- sounds good, sugar.” Jack manages to croak as he leaps ungracefully to his feet. “Excuse me.” He can’t even tip his hat towards you before he is rushing across the yard like the hounds of hell are after him.

******

“I miss you guys.” Hours later, on the phone with your sister, you still haven’t quite shaken the unease left behind by Jack’s abrupt exit from the party. Everyone has started going their separate ways by evening time and you had come home with the intention of starting to write out a shopping list for tomorrow, only to be interrupted by a call from Eliza. “How are my little prince and princess doing?”

“Missing their favorite aunt.” She huffs, even though she’s laughing down the phone. “Driving me crazy and asking when they are going to see you again.”

“At Cassie’s wedding.” You promise, shifting the phone in your hand as you look out into your backyard from the bedroom window seat. “I’m not skipping out on my family just because I moved.”

“I felt like you weren’t going to miss it.” She agrees, happy to hear it. “Have you found your dress already?”

“I’m going shopping tomorrow.” Obviously not with her, like you had been planning, but you’re still going to get it done. Even if Jack backs out of coming with you after leaving the party on such a weird note, you still need to go. “I need a couple more things for the house, so tomorrow is going to be dresses and housewares.”

“I’m so excited to see you.” She huffs, even though it’s only been a couple of days. “Are you settling in okay? I’m just amazed that the job comes with housing.”

“It’s like a little company town out here. There’s a whole neighborhood of full time employees and we all have these cute little houses and manicured yards. And the guest room is open any time you want to come visit.” Other places might have made it suspect or oppressive, but Statesman seemed to thrive on being a family company. “The owner even threw a little welcome party this afternoon. Backyard barbecue, amazing drinks, lots of people just hanging out and kids playing. I met most of the higher ups.”

“It sounds amazing. Friendly atmosphere plus booze?” She laughs. “Tell me the men are handsome.”

“I—” You laugh before you can stop yourself, glancing out the window again into the backyard of the house next door - owned by a woman you met today who works in HR. “Yeah. I’m not even going to be coy about it. Some of these men are stunning.”

“Really?” She knows you can hear the wicked grin on her face through the phone. “Tell me allllllll about them. I need a little cowboy in my life.” She laughs again, well aware she’s never even really interacted with one before but you are in the thick of them apparently.

“So…there are two that stick out.” The only person in the world who knows all your stupid relationship and crush bullshit is your sister. She’s been your best friend for your whole life and never wavered. “They both work security, and they’re…” This time when you laugh it’s a slightly embarrassed sound. “They’re really close friends. So I’m trying not to rock any boats by showing interest.”

“Let me guess, there is one of them that’s older and you like that one best?” She knows her sister better than anyone and whether you want to admit it or not, you have an eye for older men.

“Shut up.” There’s no heat whatsoever behind the scolding and you end up laughing at yourself, appreciating that Eliza isn’t beating around the bush with you. “There is, but if you meet him you have to swear not to embarrass me.”

“Ohhhh, I can meet him?” She asks evilly. “Are you bringing him to the wedding?”

“Maybe.” A part of you instantly wishes you hadn’t said anything, but you know that Eliza always has the best advice. “I don’t know. He offered to go shopping with me tomorrow and come to the wedding but then immediately got weird about it and I don’t know what to think. I’m getting super mixed signals from him.”

“Why do you think he got weird about it? Most men get weird about the wedding part, but you said he basically agreed to go with you, right?” She asks.

“He offered, I didn’t even really ask.” The kids in the yard next door are cackling, laughing as they play with their dog, and you watch them so that you don’t relocate to the living room windows downstairs - which gives you a view of Jack’s house. “It’s like…remember I told you I went to a bar earlier in the week and cleaned up some bikers at a pool game?” At the time, you hadn’t exactly told her the entire story.

“Yeah?” On her end of the phone, she ticks her eyebrow up curiously. “Did you go with old handsome?”

“He’s not old!” You both laugh anyway. “But yes. I went with Jack.” There is a longer-than-necessary pause while you debate with yourself, but you end up shrugging your shoulders. “He calls me ‘sugar’, but I really don’t think I should be reading too much into that because even my boss uses nicknames with literally everyone. It’s just a Southern thing.”

“But he wants to go shopping with you?” She reminds you. “Most men hate shopping.”

“It’s not like I’m gonna let him into the dressing room.” You protest, although you immediately think that if he made a move, you probably would.

“Sure you wouldn’t.” Clearly not believing your bullshit, she laughs. “Maybe he has something weird about the date? A Valentine’s Day wedding is very sappy.”

“Maybe. I really don’t know. And I don’t want to pry, ya know? Because as much as I get mixed signals from Jack, Tex has been nothing but sweet.” Talking it out will help, you tell yourself. It absolutely is not just going to pave the way for further frustration…

“But you don’t really want sweet.” She guesses. “Do you? You’ve always been attracted to the troublemakers.”

“I’m pretty sure they’re both trouble.” Another laugh bubbles out of you and you shake your head. “Remember the guy that came back on the jet with me to help me pack? That was Tex.”

“Oh he was cute, you mean the other one is even better looking? You better bring his ass to the wedding.” She huffs. “Bring both of them.”

“You want me to just strut into our cousin’s wedding with a cowboy in either arm?” God…your whole family would just lose their minds…

“Fuck…a girl can dream can’t she?” Your sister giggles. “I’ll be living vicariously through you.”

“Oh please.” Rolling your eyes is a useless gesture because she can’t see you, but you’re sure she can hear it in your voice. “Is having a surgeon for a husband not enough of a bragging right anymore?” You adore her husband - They’ve been together since high school and discovered their soulmate status after she graduated - but that doesn’t mean you won’t tease her. “Picture perfect kids, a successful husband, and your own amazing career aren’t doing the trick these days?”

“Nope.” She has zero shame and you know it. “I want to hear how hot cowboy sex is.”

When you huff at her it’s supposed to be indignant, but it comes out completely agonized. “If I ever have any, I promise I’ll let you know. But I genuinely doubt I have an actual chance.”

“Please, you’re gorgeous and it sounds like both of them are sniffing around.” She teases. “They want your sugar.”

“I never should have told you that,” you groan, knowing it will probably never die now.

“Hell no, you should save a horse and ride a cowboy.” She laughs and loves how you are sounding better. She knows about your loss of a soulmate and how much it has affected you.

“Oookay.” Snickering, you let out a sigh that is actually more like a half-groan and wipe one hand down your face. “Tell the kids I love them, will you? I’m going to see if I can get some sleep. I think I ate my body weight in barbecue today and it’s catching up with me.”

“I will, okay. I love you,” As much as she misses you, it’s best that you have a fresh start and it sounds like Kentucky is a good place for you.

“I love you, too.” Faintly on the other end, you can hear your mother’s dog barking and laugh softly. The sounds of home are absolute comfort and you do miss it. But this is the right place for you to be right now. “I’ll try to text you a sneaky picture of Jack tomorrow.”

“You better.” She warns you with a cackle. “Otherwise I’m going to embarrass you when he comes to the wedding.”

“If.” The nagging feeling you have that he doesn’t want to go is very real, but there’s nothing you can do about it. He either will or he won’t, and that’s that. “I’ll talk to you later in the week.” Another round of goodbyes is murmured before you hang up, and you sit in the window seat a while longer before dragging yourself to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

******

Jack feels like an ass. No– he is an ass. Actin’ like a fucking pup who had been scolded as he shot across the lawn and away from you. There’s nothing coincidental about where your little wedding is being held and he knows that artistically culinary talented you would have made your way to the kitchens even if they were off limits. He just knows it. Now, he’s watching your house like a damned stalker. Wanting to still keep his promises even though you might slam the door in his face. Spending most of the night up, hearing Abigail’s voice in his head, chewing him a new one for not apologizing for his behavior earlier. As soon as he sees movement, Jack is out the door. His jeaned legs eating up the distance between your house and his, ready to go if you're still wanting, and ready to apologize and just let you use his Bronco if you’re not.

Up, showered, and dressed after a night of lousy sleep and bad dreams, you drag yourself downstairs to make a cup of coffee. This coffeemaker is going to be the first thing you replace, you’ve decided, because you can finally afford a fancy espresso machine like you’ve always wanted. Kitchen gadgets are happening today, and it’s going to be a good time. Whether you go alone or otherwise, you tell yourself. Not knowing what the hell happened with Jack yesterday, you’re not assuming you’ll see him. Until your doorbell rings. Hopefully that’s just Jack holding up his promise to come with you, and not some random coworker wondering if you’ll be coming to church with them.

Shuffling on your small porch, Jack adjusts his hat before he swipes it off his head altogether. Nervous as a teenager going to his first dance, Jack rolls his eyes at himself. He just needs to relax, but for some reason he can't. He doesn't like the idea of you being mad at him. His stomach flips as he hears you walking towards the door.

The door swings open without a single creak, and you bite the inside of your lip when you see him standing there on your porch. “Morning, Jack,” you murmur, stepping aside to let him in. Whether this is an excuse not to come out today or an explanation for his departure last night, you have to admit that you’re just glad to see him. It means you probably didn’t do some unknown mysterious horrible thing to make him hate you - which is definitely what every dream you had last night was about.

Your neutral greeting gives him a smidgeon of hope and feels tension draining away in minute amounts. "Sugar, I-" He steps inside and huffs. "I need to apologize for leavin' so quickly yesterday." He turns and stares at you with a repentant expression on his face. "After makin' a fool of myself, I realized we didn't set our plans for today in concrete and while you might not even want the addition of my presence to your outing, I didn't want to be even more of an asshole and not show up." He manages to rattle this off in one breath and stops to inhale. "However, if you're wishin' to not be in my company, I at least want to offer the use of my bronco to you, since that had been a main sellin' point of the day." Offering for someone to drive Betsy is unheard of, but he's pulling his keys out of his leather jacket to extend them to you if you want.

Verbose. Jack Daniels is a verbose man, who can and will turn any four word sentence into four paragraphs. But you don’t hate that - it flies in the face of ‘quick’ communication like texting or shouting across a kitchen. It’s kind of nice, actually, when you’re not generally upset. “Did I say something wrong?” You finally ask, looking from his keys up to the sincere expression of reticence on his face. “Or did I do something to make you leave?”

"No." Jack assures you quickly, shaking his head and wondering how the hell he could possibly explain. "It was all me, sugar. All me and I apologize for worryin' you. It was never- I feel nearly sick at the idea of makin' you think that you had done anything." He's going to just pray you don't ask him for details.

“But everything’s okay?” If it wasn’t you, then it likely was something personal, and he seems like a fairly private person. A conclusion that’s only being reinforced by the fact that he hasn’t actually explained what happened. You decide, though, that you’ve only known the man a week and he doesn’t owe you his life story, so a sincere apology is enough.

"Right as rain, sugar." He manages to paint on a half grin, rocking forward towards you and there is a magnetism that he feels, like he's being drawn to you. "Does this mean you might still want me to squire you around town?" It's old fashioned and a little a lot flirty, but it feels right.

“Do you want a cup of coffee before we go?” Closing the front door is the silent signal that you want him to stay, and you can feel relief coursing through you that he seems to want to do this. The last thing you would ever want to do is drag him along unwillingly.

"If you're havin' one. If not, we can always swing by the best little coffee shop in town." Jack offers, not wanting to inconvenience you.

“We could do that.” Instead of retreating back into the kitchen, you reach for your jacket and purse instead. “A new coffee maker is on the list of things we’re picking up today.”

Jack chuckles as looks at your standard Mr. Coffee maker that was left in the cabins. "Doesn't quite do it for you?" He guesses, figuring you drink those fancy coffees with art made from the foam.

“My very first job was as a barista in a bakery in the town where I grew up,” you tell him. Keys, phone, purse, jacket, you’ve got everything you need so you open the door again and move to set the alarm via the panel on the wall. “I started drinking espresso and never looked back.”

"Figured." He gives a small chuckle and waits for you patiently, his hand moving to the small of your back when the two of you set out of the cabin and you close the door behind you. "Have you set up your biometric lock yet?" He asks, noticing that you are using the fob for the door.

“Not yet.” Keys go into your purse and you close your eyes momentarily against the warmth of his hand at your back. “Someone is coming tomorrow morning to set it up. Then I’ll lock myself in the kitchen at the restaurant and bake cakes all day.”

"What kind of cakes?" Jack immediately starts drooling, imagining what you might make. His sweet tooth is happy at the prospect.

“Well everybody seemed to like the coconut cake, so I think I’ll leave that recipe alone.” He opens the door of the Bronco for you and you slide in, loving that Kentucky in February is warm enough for an open air drive. “I think I’ll work on the red velvet or a hummingbird cake first. Try to nail down the classics.”

"Diana will adore you if you make her a fancy red velvet." Jack promises you as the two of you get situated in the truck and he turns the engine over. "And Champ will adore you for his wife being happy."

“They’re very sweet together.” The older couple have been nothing but lovely and welcoming to you, and you’re grateful for it. “And I wouldn’t dare open a tea room in the south without red velvet cake on the menu.”

"Maybe one of those scone thingys." Jack rolls his eyes. "She's always talkin' about how no one makes scones here."

"I can do scones." Any suggestions he has are more than welcome, as they give you a pretty good idea of what people in the area are actually looking to eat and that helps you focus your energy while you're putting together your menu. "Scones. Tea sandwiches. Maybe tartlets or quiches. I have way too many ideas."

"Was this always your dream?" He asks, pulling onto the main road and heading towards town. It's in the opposite direction of the bar he had taken you to the first time, but it's amusing to think that he has been showing you all the area himself.

"For my career?" You glance at him as he drives, recognizing the placid look of contentment there. He likes to drive, and you file that away in the back of your mind. "I mean, I did have a pretty decent stretch of time as a kid where I wanted to be a princess, and then about a month in middle school when I decided that I wanted to build a time machine, but...yeah. I pretty much always knew I wanted to be a chef. The debate was savory or pastry, and obviously pastry won."

"You're good at both." He promises you with a chuckle, enjoying the sass that seems to come naturally to you. "A princess, huh?" He looks over at you with a grin. "You know that job title comes with a high chance of being stuck in a tower, right?"

"Yeah, but traditionally it also comes with a handsome prince and really good clothes, so nine-year-old me was okay with it." When he laughs softly you grin, glad to see the tension between you has dissipated. "What about you? Was CEO of an international distillery always on your radar?"

"Definitely not." Jack shakes his head and drums his fingers on the steering wheel. "Smaller plans. Much smaller." He thinks about all the dreams him and Abigail had talked about, laying in the dark and holding onto one another. "Just a happy life, family, you know - the normal stuff."

"Not everything happens early in life. Sometimes the best things are worth waiting for." Obviously he never got his wish - or at least he hasn't yet - and you frown slightly. Surely he hasn't had any shortage of offers? He must be waiting for his soulmate, and you can't blame him for that.

"Yeah." It's better to agree instead of laying out his own sob story. He knows it would make you soft, probably make you want to comfort him and although he's enough of a man to appreciate the ways women love to comfort widowers - he can't do that with you. He's already doing more than he needs. He should be maintaining some distance but he can't quite stay away.

"It's none of my business." You know that, and can recognize it, but there's something about Jack that just continues to draw you like a magnet. "But if you ever want to talk about it...you very literally know where I live."

"I appreciate it, sugar." He does, he really does but he doesn't want to talk about that right now. Not when the day is turning out to be a beautiful one.

The drive turns back to pleasanter topics and Jack lets you play with the radio, laughing when you settle on a classic rock station just before he pulls into the parking lot of his little coffee shop. There are plenty of chains around - Louisville is a city after all - but Jack prefers this little place to Starbucks or - according to him - just about any place else.

“The corporate places are okay- don’t get me wrong, but you can’t get that hankering for something unusual and bring in what you need and have them make it for you like you can here.” He offers, opening the door onto the small coffee shop.

The smell is brilliant, hitting you in the face all at once, and you inhale almost greedily. Whatever sweets they're doing here, they're baking fresh. It washes over you and makes you eager to get up to the counter to see what they're working with. "What's your favorite?" You ask Jack, seeing a fairly standard bar menu when it comes to coffee drinks, but a plethora of tea options and syrups for flavor.

Jack grins at you, sure that you’re going to give him a dirty look. “Plain black coffee.”

"I can't believe you don't drink sweet coffee with the way you go after desserts." Is it teasing? Probably. But it's still a surprise.

“The bitterness of the coffee enhances the sweets.” Jack argues, huffing slightly. “I will have some of that syrup in a coffee if I’m not having a pastry with it, but that’s rare.”

"You know you don't have to defend that to me." You nudge him a little as the two of you step into line. "I always put a little coffee in my chocolate things. It amps up the flavor so much."

“Well then you should know.” He grins, eyes greedy as they roam over the case. Trying to see what they have for today. “They change pastries daily.”

"How often do you come in here?" It must be a lot, judging from the way the baristas call their hellos to him by name, and the cup of coffee already waiting for him at the counter when the two of you finally make it to the front of the line.

"It's my go to spot when I'm in town." He admits, shooting the girls behind the counter a wink and a nod for the coffee. "I'll take one of those sausage, maple and blueberry crumb cakes." He tells the one waiting for his pastry order. "They look good."

"Could I have one of the tomato, leek, and goat cheese quiches?" You ask, when the girl nods to Jack and asks you for your order right away. "And a café au lait of whatever your single origin coffee in today." The cashier dutifully types everything in, gets your milk preference, and gets everything moving. "Is it even worth my offering to pay?" You ask Jack, slightly smirking at how you had to bargain to even get him to allow you to pay for lunch when you planned out today.

"Nope." Jack shakes his head and his own wallet comes out. "I don't think you understand how badly my daddy would whoop my ass." He chuckles.

"Thank you for breakfast, then." If it's something he feels strongly about, then you'll learn to pick your battles. He's sure as hell not paying for any of your shopping today. "I wouldn't want your daddy to appear out of nowhere just because I'm stubborn."

"He'd be coming from the grave, so don't put it past him." Jack jokes, shuffling down the line and collecting his cup while you wait for the pastries and your own coffee. "Man could probably convince Satan himself to open the gates of hell to let him come back to whoop me."

You snort, laughing as you bring over plates of warm pastries and your oversized coffee to the table he has chosen. "Sounds like our fathers would have gotten along," you admit ruefully. "I love my dad but he is a ballbuster of the highest degree."

"Something about a father that does that." He murmurs, remembering his own pride at learning he was going to be papa. It had been the proudest seven months of his life.

"Yeah, I noticed that with my brother-in-law." Everything looks amazing, and you hum happily over the first sip of your coffee. Sweet and creamy but not overpowering the natural flavors of the coffee. You might have to see if this shop is interested in partnering, so you can use their coffee in the restaurant.

Jack is damn thankful that you didn't pick up on the momentary flash of pain, maybe he hid it well enough. Instead of saying anything else about it, he just ticks a brow up. "So? Whadya think?"

He had to ask while you have food in your mouth? You roll your eyes at him for a second but grin, nodding as you finish chewing the perfect first bite. Choosing not to say anything about the dark clouds in his eyes was apparently a good choice - you're just desperate not to do anything to rock the boat between you. "It's sooo good," you groan after a second, laughing at your own exaggerated reaction.

"Try some of mine." He offers, nudging a piece of his crumb cake with scrambled sausage, fresh blueberries and dots of real maple syrup over towards you along with his plain coffee.

Immediately offering him the same, you both try each others' breakfasts and hum happily. Whatever this place is using for their house coffee blend, it works gorgeously with maple. You'll have to remember that if they agree to a partnership. "So everything is good here? That's the vibe I'm getting?"

"Eh." Jack shrugs. "I don't like some of their stuff. Their cookies are a little too crumbly. I like 'em soft and chewy."

"How do you feel about shortbread?" The question comes with a raised eyebrow as you switch breakfasts again and file away Jack's cookie preferences. You're still not sure why you're so invested in making sure that everything you make is going to be to his taste, but it feels important that it is.

"Only if they have a sweet jam on top or sandwiched between layers." Jack admits, giving a small shrug.

"You realize that you have been all of my menu consults so far?" You ask him, thoroughly enjoying your breakfast and trying not to look too embarrassed or eager about that fact. "I ought to just call the place Jack's."

The joke makes him grin, contemplating it seriously for a moment before he shakes his head. "You don't have to take all my advice, sugar. I just like what you're offerin'."

"I'm sure I'll make something that doesn't suit you but everyone else likes, and that's fine." It's an inevitability of your career. Not everyone is going to like every single item on the menu. But that's why having multiple testers is important. "Champ's giving me three months to get the place up and running. He wants to have it ready for the summer tourist season, so I'll be asking for plenty more opinions before that time comes."

"I'm sure it will be amazing." Jack praises honestly. "You seem like you have a passion for makin' people happy and their belt tighter."

"Hopefully." The sting is unexpected - how the thought that smacks you out of nowhere is wondering whether or not your soulmate would have liked your baking. "Hopefully."

Jack sees the way your mood shifts, and he knows it's because of him. From what he can tell, you had been looking forward to a future with your soulmate and he's taken that from you. Guilt settles on him and suddenly, he's not hungry anymore.

An uneasy silence settles between you and you know it's your fault, the thick melancholy hanging over your shoulders making you blurt out and unasked for explanation. "My soulmate died," you tell him, not able to actually look him in the eye but staring into your coffee instead. "Less than two weeks ago. So I'm sorry if I get...awkward sometimes. I never met them or anything, it's just...it's hard to adjust to."

His stomach drops and he opens his mouth to confess. To take the look of sadness off your face and replace it with anger. Maybe it would help you. Help you focus on something else, direct your emotions on hating him. His lips part and the words are on the tip of his tongue. "I'm sorry," is what comes out instead. "I know how you feel, losing someone - I mean."

"Did you--?" Your fingers squeeze into fists on the table, curling in on yourself to try to keep from crying in public. Jack is the first person beyond your immediate family that you've told, and saying the words out loud again makes you ache. "Your soulmate?"

He figures it's safe. That if you know he's lost a soulmate you wouldn't think he has your marks on his body. After all, he's never heard of another set of soulmates in real life. It's always that hopeful whisper. "Yeah." He admits, frowning slightly and reaching out for your hands to cover them with his before he realizes he's doing it. "Her and- and our little boy."

"Oh my god..." Immediately feeling mortified, your fingers open to squeeze his instead of letting your nails bite into your palm. "I'm so sorry. Here I am getting upset about someone I never even met and you...you lost both of them. Shit, Jack."

"It was a long time ago." Jack offers, not wanting you to feel even worse than you do. "You just- it's different. You are allowed to grieve, sugar."

"I think it's part of why I took this job," you admit, feeling all the thoughts you've been keeping a lid on come bubbling to the surface. "A new start, ya know? A brand new life. I have no idea what it would have been like if I had known them, but I'm willing to bet anything that I wouldn't be working at Statesman if I had." Something makes you absolutely certain of it, in fact, and that's almost comforting. Everything in this new life is something you'll choose for yourself.

Jack's nodding covers the way that he swallows, knowing that you had no choice in this. The ink on his skin makes sure that you would end up at Statesman. He can only hope that you are happy here. "Statesman was my fresh start." He tells you honestly.

“And look how well you’ve done for yourself.” The smile on your face might actually be pride, except you have no claim over him in any kind of way that would justify that feeling. “All the way to CEO. I don’t think that it’s…any kind of exaggeration at all…to think that she’d be so proud of you.”

He tells himself that you are trying to be nice. Smiling weakly and giving a small shrug. "Hopefully so."

“Well,” you shrug, sensing that the topic isn’t exactly comforting to him, and pick up your coffee again. “I would be, if I were your soulmate.”

Jack closes his eyes and gives a soft chuckle. "If I were your soulmate, you'd hate me, sugar." He tells you, knowing that the secret he keeps from you would completely change your thoughts on him.

“I doubt it.” There are very few people on earth that you actually hate, and you can’t imagine a single thing he could ever do to cause that kind of reaction from you. “But I guess we’ll never know.”

"Yeah." That was true because he knew that no one was going to tell you. You would be happy and safe here at Statesman, maybe meet someone and fall in love with them, never aware that Jack is your soulmate. He frowns deeply at that thought and takes a sip of his coffee as he wonders why he hates that idea.

******

Dragging him around Pottery Barn and Williams-Sonoma ends up being a fully entertaining morning after an awkward breakfast. The shiny kitchen appliances and soft, fluffy throw pillows and blankets that end up in his Bronco pile up, punctuated with scented candles, a few decor pieces, and a beautiful full set of dishes and glasses for your table. The house stuff is easy, earns you a little teasing here and there, and is done before you know it.

"Where to now, sugar?" Jack asks, raising a brow at everything that is packed in the back. "Your dress or you want some more knick knacks?" He is in an indulgent mood and the slight bickering you had entertained him with had showcased how funny you are.

“Seems like dress time. I think I can put off more knick-knacks for another day.” You laugh and roll your eyes at him playfully. Jack had ragged on you the entire time you were in Bath & Body Works picking out scented candles, just as bad as the search for decor items in Pottery Barn. “You keep teasing me and I’m gonna make you buy me flowers for my new vase.”

"Aww, sugar, now you've gone and ruined my housewarming gift." He huffs, scowling at you playfully. He hadn't really been thinking about getting you flowers, but now that you mention it - it seems like a fine idea. "I'll get you the best ragweed Kentucky has to offer."

“If you do, you’ll lose taste testing privileges.” That is a very real threat, since your allergies affect your senses of smell and taste fairly dramatically. Allergies have cost you more than one exam grade in culinary school.

"No ragweed. Check." Jack drolls, just to make you laugh as he guides the Bronco towards some boutique that the women folk went to. Ginger had designed several outfits for formal affairs off what she had seen there.

“This is fancy.” When he pulls up in front of the building you can see into the big picture windows. Ladies sitting on settees with glasses of champagne that is probably cava - just as delicious at a third of the price - and women in crisp suits toting beautiful gowns in and out of dressing rooms.

"Hopefully you can find something beautiful here." He tells you. "They dress a lot of people around here for fancy things."

“Statesman people for fancy Statesman things?” You both climb out of the truck and he leads you to the door, giving you the feeling once more that all his gentlemanly behavior is just how he is with women and has nothing to do with you. Which is fine. It is. You’re just trying to talk your crush down off that ledge before you do or say something stupid. “I’m sure I’ll find something.” But your credit card will be laid respectfully to rest after today for a very long time.

"Sometimes." Jack grins. "We get a hell of a discount here."

“Now you’re talking my language.” The grin you shoot him is broad, morphing into something infinitely more amused when the woman behind the counter recognizes him immediately. “Mr. Daniels!” She practically purrs. “What can we do for you on this beautiful day?”

"Now Stephanie..." Jack turns and introduces you to the shop owner. "This here is our newest Statesman employee and she's lookin' for a dress." He tells her. "And of course, your shop was the first and only one I could recommend to her."

“Oh, you’re too kind.” She titters, downright blushing like he’s just outright flirted. It makes your stomach twist in something awful like jealousy. “My dear, what occasion do you need to be dressed for?”

“Um…a formal wedding.” You know you should have taken care of this ages ago, but if you’re honest with yourself you had just figured you would raid your sister’s closet and called it a day. She has plenty of nice things. “Black tie optional, the invitation said.”

"Black tie." She purses her lips and cuts her eyes over at Jack playfully. "I'm assuming you're attending and wearing the velvet Tom Ford we tailored to you with the black stetson?" She asks, tapping her finger to chin thoughtfully. "We will get a bow tie and pocket square that matches the color of the dress we find her." She decides.

“I really appreciate the help.” That’s undeniable. Clearly you hadn’t managed to get this done just by walking through a mall. “The, uh…the wedding colors are pink and white…if that helps? Obviously no one wears white to a wedding but I guess no pink, either?”

"Red is a no-no." She hums and her eyes light up as she thinks of a dress. "What about a blush champagne colored dress?" She offers. "I have a new design I just got in and it would look magnificent with your coloring."

"That sounds like a good place to start." You nod gratefully and let her whisk the pair of you over to one of the smaller sitting areas beside a dressing room. As soon as she disappears down a hallway another young woman appears with drinks and all but winks at Jack when she hands his over.

Jack winks back at her and nods in appreciation of the drink before he turns to you. "What do you think of this place?" He asks, looking around at it like he hasn't been there a hundred times.

"I have a feeling I'm nowhere near the first woman you've brought here for a dress." It's just an observation, and you try very hard not to sound sour about it, but your stomach is churning as you set your drink down on the small table beside you. "It's nice. They obviously take pride in their business."

"Well, I've brought Astrid, Gabriella, Diana when she wanted to surprise Champ." Jack ticks off names playfully, aware that's not how you meant it, but it's kind of rewarding to see the tinge of jealousy in your eyes.

"I do...appreciate you doing this." There is absolutely no reason to be jealous. Just because you have a stupid crush on the man does not mean he owes you anything. "I know it's a big ask, this whole weekend away thing. Even more so because we really just met."

He gives you a smile, shoving down the worries and insecurities under the veneer of confidence. "It's not a big deal, we'll go and drink, dance, have some canapés and you'll tell me who is the family black sheep and I'll make friends with them."

You snort, shaking your head at him and reaching for your drink as an anchor. "You already have," you tell him honestly. "I'm her."

"Now why would you be the black sheep?" Jack huffs, shaking his head at the mere thought.

"It's more like my family are the black sheep family out of the whole extended group." Having very independent and capable parents with strong opinions had meant that you and your siblings turned out just as independent and opinionated. "But my siblings, cousins, aunts and uncles and all of that...even my parents...they all have really incredible success stories in their education and careers, and everyone in my family has married their soulmate. No one is even going to believe that the restaurant is real. They all turned up their noses when I chose pastry in culinary school. Apparently bakers can't be celebrity chefs, and if I'm not a celebrity chef then I'm nobody." You shrug, long having since given up on gaining the approval of your extended family. "My parents and my siblings are great. And that's really all I care about."

"Ahhhh." Jack nods as he settles back in his chair. "I bet you would blow their fifty dollar socks off when you get your tea room set up. Have you come up with a name yet?"

"I'm still debating." One sip from your glass proves that you were right about the theory that it was cava to save money, but it's still a lovely glass of bubbly. "An Alice in Wonderland reference probably won't mesh with the general feeling around Statesman, so I might name it after my grandmother."

Jack gives a small shrug. "You could always call it The Rabbit-Hole and use the Red Rabbit Burrow blend they are working on marketing for." He tells you, thinking about the new line that is about to come out.

You stare, mouth open, and a hollow laugh sticks in your throat while your brain vaguely short circuits. If you had known about this new blend, you would already have the name down on the paperwork. "I could kiss you." Is the declaration that comes out of your mouth instead, gratitude and giddy glee reaching all the way to your toes. "Jack, that's perfect!"

It's on the tip of his tongue to take you up on that offer, watching your eyes light up with delight and joy. Making you seem even more beautiful than you normally are. "It's going to be launching in about five months." He tells you with an offhand shrug. "I can get you a few gallons to sample and experiment with if you want."

"That would be amazing." You're already itching to get your hands on it, wondering what the tasting notes will be like and what you can pair it with. "The Rabbit-Hole." Humming happily, you barely manage to keep your little wiggling happy dance under wraps when the woman - Stephanie - comes back with a handful of dresses.

Jack takes your glass of champagne from you and smirks. “Go play with the dresses and pretend you're a princess, sugar.” He winks and motions you off.

The large handful of dresses that Stephanie has reappeared with are grand and sparkling in tone of gold, champagne, and rose that will obviously compliment a pink-themed wedding but not upstage it. She seems to have picked out a style she likes for you - glamorous and evoking a bombshell look that would guarantee that the first person anyone in the room looks at after the bride, will be you. "These are stunning," you breathe, letting your fingers graze the sequins on the first dress on the rack. "I've never worn anything like them. But...I guess after today I won't be able to say that."

“Try them all on.” Jack encourages you. “We don’t have anywhere else to be.”

He's right, of course. The only other plan you have today is to have dinner together, so you disappear into the fitting room to swap your clothes for the first dress that might wind up in your closet by the end of the afternoon. The cut is flattering and the color is brilliant, but it doesn't quite feel right in some amorphous way that you can't quite put your finger on. Still, you step out to show Jack and see what he has to say.

Jack whistles and his eyes drag up and down your body. “Damn, sugar.” He huffs. “How do you like it?”

You can't help preening a little, even though you're sure he would compliment absolutely anyone he was with the same way. "It's nice, but I don't think it's quite right. I do love the color, though."

“Well then I guess we can mark that off the list.” Jack smirks. “Next one sugar.”

The next two dresses are nixed - one by you and one by Jack, who insists that the skirt doesn't fall right and you just end up smiling and nodding because you're trying not to spontaneously combust from him paying so much attention to your figure. When you go back into the dressing room, you skip the next one that Stephanie had chosen for you and go straight to the last, sighing over the flowers embroidered all over the dress and its accompanying sheer cape. The rose coloured fabric is darker than the Barbie-pink you know your cousin has chosen and the purple and gold accents make it fascinating to watch shimmer. It's gorgeous and the price tag makes you wince, but you have to try it on.

When you step out of the dressing room, Jack immediately stands and sweeps his hat off his head as he stares. “This- this is the one, sugar.” His body tells him that he really likes the way you look and he motions towards the mirror. “What do you think?”

"It's amazing." His reaction doesn't hurt either, and you turn to face the wall-sized mirror beside your dressing room. The cape falling around your shoulders is the closest to being a princess you'll ever come, and you glance at Jack over your shoulder as you watch your reflection. "It's so comfortable," you admit, laughing that that is so exciting to you when you're wearing such a gorgeous piece of art.

“So this is the one? Yeah?” Jack waits for you to nod and then turns to Stephanie. “Does there need to be any alterations?”

"A slight hem, depending on what shoes your friend will be wearing." Stephanie smiles, making sure to stay polite. "Oh...I guess I do need shoes, don't I?" Turning around in place, you look between them both. "I'm not too steady on high high heels, but...can a hem be done this week? The purchase is...sort of last minute." "I can have it done by mid week for you." Stephanie assures you, stepping forward to inspect the dress on your body and make sure she's correct that nothing more needs to be done. "We do have some heels here, if you would like to look. Gold will work well, or we can dye a fabric pair to match the gown if you prefer."

Jack chuckles. “Go check the shoes out, sugar.” As much as he doesn’t ‘shop’, he’s enjoying himself. Enjoying learning things about you. Maybe it’s crazy, he doesn’t know, but he looks at it like he’s taking care of you. Making you happy.

With a few very careful steps, you get down from the little platform that your dressing room was on and follow the saleswoman around the corner to a large display of heels in nearly two dozen shapes, styles, and heights. There are so many that it’s a bit overwhelming, but your eyes settle on a pair with intricate caging and open toes that will strap onto your feet and hopefully not move an inch all night. Something worth putting up with high heels for. “What about these?” You ask out loud, almost afraid to see this price tag on top of the dress.

Stephanie chuckles, actually chuckles and admires the boldness of your choice. “They are statement pieces, aren’t they?” She reaches for the shoes and pulls them off the display. “They are gorgeous and actually probably some of the more comfortable heels. Let me get your size and we will see how they look?”

“Thank you.” Your fingers subtly stroke the fabric of the dress as she retrieves your shoe size from the back and you walk back to where Jack is waiting.

Jack looks up, still in awe of the way the dress looks on you and gives you a smile. “Are they dying shoes or did you find some?”

“I saw a nice gold pair. Hopefully they have my size.” There’s only a moment of hesitation before you go back into the dressing room, retrieving your cell phone from your pants pocket to bring it out to him. “Would you…mind taking a picture? I…it’s silly. I just really want to show my sister.”

“One without the shoes and one with?” Jack guesses with an indulgent and slightly naughty grin. “I never have a problem taking a picture of a beautiful woman, sugar.”

Stephanie returns with the shoes while your face is still burning from Jack’s compliments. Absolutely no part of this is what you figured today would be like. You had pictures hunting through the dress department at Dillard’s quickly so as not to bore Jack, coming up with something passable but unremarkable. This is an altogether opposite experience to that - and definitely the closest to being a princess that you’ve ever felt.

Jack hums as Stephanie brings the shoes over and you sit down on one of those little poofy circle things women love. Standing, he moves over to you. “Let me help you put them on, sugar.” He murmurs silkily as he drops down to one knee in front of you and takes the shoes from the other woman.

It’s a damn Cinderella moment and all you can do is sit, frozen, trying not to react to the strength and gentleness of Jack’s large hands working the delicate straps on the heels. It’s not that you have a foot fetish, or anything even akin to it. It’s the warm way your skin tingles under his touch and the absolute intimacy of helping someone get dressed that have you holding your breath while Stephanie makes her unnoticed escape. You two clearly ought to be left alone.

He’s never thought of a foot as pretty. Never given them much thought beyond walking and laughing then Abigail had stuck her feet in his lap and demanded foot rubs for carrying his boy. He had acquiesced every time willingly. Now he keeps his fingers light as they move, sliding across your skin or holding your heel while he slips the heels on and buckles the straps.

It’s soft. Gentle. And you have no fucking clue why having him help you with your shoes has you in the verge of tears but here you are. Once they’re in place you shift slightly on the pouf, not sure that you want to break the spell of whatever the hell was just happening, but you need to see if the damn things are actually going to work for you. “Would you…?” You hold your hands out to him awkwardly, asking for help up.

“Of course, sugar.” Jack stands and dusts off his pants before he offers his hand to you with a wink and a slightly embellished flourish. “A Princess should not stand on her own.”

The way you huff is quiet - almost mournful but more like boarding indignant as he helps you to stand and just keeps you in front of him like this. Looking you over like it’s his privilege instead of a right. “If you treat the women you’ve just made friends with like this,” you observe, trying to shake off how special it makes you feel. “I don’t understand how somebody hasn’t snatched you up since being single.” You shrug, a little gesture but an honest one. “That’s just to say…your wife was a very lucky woman.”

“No sugar, I was the lucky one.” He promises, shoving down the wave of sadness and bitterness so he can concentrate on you. You deserve to feel beautiful at this moment. “Remember, manners maketh man.”

“Not in a dress shop, I hope.” A little smile crosses your lips, remembering he had said the same thing before taking those bikers to task a week ago. “And…it’s possible for you both to have been lucky. That’s—that’s what finding a soulmate is. At least…that’s what it seems like.”

It slips out, the dreaded words he hated for so long. “Maybe you will be lucky and have another soulmate.” He murmurs, knowing that according to the universe - you do.

You’ve heard those words before. From your father and brother, mostly, and you paint on the patient smile that you offered both of them when they said it. “Second soulmates are a fairy tale,” you remind him gently. “They don’t happen in real life. I’ll— I’ll just be glad if I ever find somebody willing to put up with my own specific brand of weird bullshit. That’s the dream now.” Companionship, not true love. That’s the best that you’ll dare to hope for.

He sees the brittleness in your smile because he has been far less kind with those words spoken to him. “I know.” He murmurs. “We just have to say it, right? It’s almost required.”

“Right.” You nod, stepping away from him before you say something incredibly stupid, and move back to the mirror to see the dress with these shoes on. It’s a spectacular combination and your smile softens, wondering what your soulmate would have thought of this kind of glamor.

Jack takes the picture you asked for and hands you back the phone. “Excuse me for a moment, sugar. Too much champagne, and I need to use the facilities.” He steps away, disappearing from the private dressing room.

******

“Mr. Daniels.” Stephanie’s head pops up from the front desk in surprise when she spots him, looking like he’s slinked away from where he was supposed to be. “Did you require assistance?”

“Sure can, darlin’.” Jack pulls out his wallet and lays down his credit card. “Everything she wants goes on this card. Tell her that it’s on the Statesman account and she’ll be billed at a heavy discount.” He requests, needing to buy that dress for you for some strange reason.

“You don’t want her to know it’s a gift?” She asks, head tilting slightly like she’s intrigued at the request.

“No.” Jack shakes his head adamantly. “This is a secret between you and me.” He makes it seem more charming with a wink and a flash of a flirty smile.

“Alright.” She’s damn well not going to question it. Not when she makes a commission. “Shall I encourage your friend to peruse our jewelry and clutches to complete the outfit, or would you prefer to keep the purchase small?”

“Whatever she wants.” Jack reiterates. Perhaps some of it is that underlying guilt that springs up around you, but this is mostly to make sure you look amazing at an event where your family will be.

“Very good.” Offering him a nod, she enters his credit card information into the purchase order under your name and hands it back with a smile. “If it’s not overstepping, the two of you do make a very sweet couple.”

“I wouldn’t be good for her.” Jack murmurs as he shoves his wallet back into his back pocket and sighs. “Now to actually use the bathroom.”

When Jack does return several minutes later, you are changed back into your own clothes and pour over a small display of gold earrings with Stephanie. “Hey!” Your smile is wide and true, eyes lighting up when you see him. “For a second there I thought I’d lost you.”

“I’m harder to shake than a tic on a dog’s ass, sugar.” Jack jokes, just to make you giggle at his inappropriate comeback.

“Noted,” you snicker, even more amused because Stephanie looks so horrified. “I swear I’m almost done here, and then we can get dinner.”

“Take your time, sugar. The decorations make the cake more delicious.” Jack muses.

“He says to a baker.” This time you throw him a wink, deciding that playful things are just that much more fun today. It doesn’t matter that he’s just being kind, whereas you would willingly and easily drag him into that dressing room to find out exactly how much of that cocky attitude actually comes from his cock.

Grinning, he can’t help the way that his cock twitches in his jeans. You are a sexy woman and even more so when you are playful. He likes that in a woman. “So go on and pick out your doodads.” He motions towards the display case. “Gotta work up an appetite.”

Doodads. You shake your head, feeling the action be much more affectionate than you meant for it to be, and turn back to the case of jewelry in various colors, tones, and styles. The earrings you end up picking are simple but beautiful sparkling gold stud, and a nearby soft fabric clutch in gorgeous metallic gold. Stephanie tries directing you to other pieces like elaborate bracelets, but you just end up wrapping your hand around the simple gold cuff you wear every day on your wrist. It was a gift from your sister and you haven't skipped wearing it a day in the three years since she gave it to you. "I think this is plenty," you announce, when you really understand that she isn't going to stop pushing. It's fine - she probably works on commission and you're making her a lot of money today. But you're not replacing the bracelet your sister gave you for any reason. "Dress, shoes, earrings, and a purse. That's more than I expected to do today, anyway."

“Alright.” Stephanie wants to tell you to spend more money. She knows Jack Daniels can afford it, but you aren’t supposed to know. “I don’t think with the heels you need any hemming, so would you like to take the dress with you now?”

“Please.” The placid smile on your face belies how excited you actually are about the dress - it’s just your credit card bill you’re dreading. “I really appreciate all your help today. I would have been lost on my own.”

“I love helping people dress for special occasions.” Stephanie tells you brightly and scans all the items, wrapping them up and putting them in a boutique bag before pulling out a garment bag for the dress.

“My cousin’s wedding is sure to be memorable.” That’s just the sort of person she is - a very big personality that should never be silenced. You shift your purse off your arm at the counter, digging for your wallet to hand over your credit card.

“That’s great.” Stephanie zips up the dress and smiles at you as she pushes the bag forward. “Well, I hope you enjoy it and have a great rest of your day.”

"I--um..." Standing there with your credit card out, you tilt your head and furrow your brow at the shop employee. "I haven't paid yet," you remind her gently.

“Don’t worry about that.” She waves away your card with a smile. “It’s been put on Statesman’s account.” She explains breezily. “It will be billed to you, at a heavy discount.”

"Oh." Vaguely wondering how many local businesses Statesman simply has an account at, you put your card away and give the woman a slightly dazed nod as you accept the bags she has packed for you. "Well-I...thank you, again."

Jack winks at Stephanie and nods at her politely before taking your bags. “Are we ready, sugar?”

"We're ready." This whole we and sugar business is the kind of thing that makes you feel like a schoolgirl - like you're going to go home tonight and call your sister from bed while you kick your legs and gleefully recall every detail of every interaction. And fuck - who knows - maybe you will. He's been wonderful today. Completely relieving you of any worry you had last night. "Time for dinner?"

“Only if you are ready for the best collards and cornbread you’ve ever stuffed in your sweet lookin’ little mouth.” The urge to compliment you is just too much. Depending on what he says, he gets a sassy comeback or you turn charmingly shy. Both are perfect in Jack’s book.

The eyebrow you raise in his direction is matched by a smirk, and you can’t help yourself. He’s getting more outlandish in his comments and it’s either a Southern thing that you just don’t have up in New England, or he might actually be flirting. “Been thinking about my mouth today, have you?”

“It’s a nice mouth.” Jack opens the door to the shop and lets you proceed him. “The day a man doesn’t think about a mouth that is sassy and sweet, sour and sugary, well - it’s the day they put him in the ground.”

You practically gasp at the admission, taking the garment bag with your gown and carefully arranging it amongst all the other boxes and bags in the back of the Bronco when you get outside. “So you’ve actually been flirting with me and I’m the idiot who just caught on?”

Jack shuffles, looking for the world like a man who’s gotten his hand caught in the cookie jar. He had been flirting and he hadn’t even realized it, the feeling so natural with you. Jack Daniels claims to be a born flirt, but ninety percent of it is an act. He hadn’t been acting with you. “Yes?” He asks, slightly worried that it might offend, given what you had said earlier.

He sounds worried, and you almost round the car to press a kiss to his cheek right there. But since the two of you had a short but legitimate conversation this morning about your dead soulmates, you decide not to push it and to just move with the flow of teasing. He seems to like it, and you have to admit to loving finding out that this man returns your attraction. “Good,” you hum, instead of doing anything sappy or too forward. “Keep it up.”

Jack’s grin is slow and he winks at you after he hops into the Bronco again, defying the need for the door. “Bossy lady.” He teases as he turns the key and the engine roars to life. “Easiest order ever, sugar.”

“I just know what I like, that’s all.” The victorious grin that overtakes your face settles there and stays as he pulls out onto the main road. You know what you like and you like him - right from the first second you saw him. It’s just that simple.

Jack drives you about five miles from the dress shop. The outside of the restaurant doesn’t look appealing, it’s the same facade of any strip mall in anywhere U.S.A. For Jack, that was part of the charm. Looks were deceiving. “Here we are, sugar.”

The outside looks like nothing at all, but through the glass windows you can see a line at the cafeteria counter that goes almost to the door. “Looks like we’re just in time for the dinner rush,” you shoot him a grin. “Perfect. Everything will be fresh.”

“Get two scoops of the collards or you’ll be waiting on a new pan.” Jack warns you, smirking as he opens the door and the scent of the buffet wafts out.

“Oh my god it smells like heaven.” The second you’re through the door you’re salivating, eagerly hopping into line with Jack at your side. “It smells like my grandmother’s house in here.”

“Your grandma cooked like this?” Jack asks, arching an eyebrow at you doubtfully.

“You think my coconut cake story was a lie?” You challenge him, grin twisting into the corner of your lips. “Grandma Jane was born and raised in Virginia. She only moved north after my older brother was born. According to her, being a long-distance granny simply was not an option.”

“Well then, let’s see if they cook as good as Grandma Jane from Virginia.” Jack teases, sending you a wink as the two of you get in line.

The building is absolutely packed to the gills, busy employees and happy customers all buzzing with their own energies. You and Jack slowly make your way up to the front of the line where regulars are being greeted by name, and you grin when one very maternal woman behind the counter lights up at the sight of him - this man seems to make an impression wherever he goes.

"Miss Mary, how are you doin' today?" Jack coos as he shuffles forward with you, a grin on his face and he sweeps his hat off his head and snatches her hand to kiss it playfully.

“Always missin’ you, Jack,” the woman laughs, swatting at him ineffectually and obviously enjoying this ritual playful flirtation. “You been in New York again? We ain’t seen you in a dog’s age.”

"No ma'am." Jack shakes his head mournfully. "Work pulled me farther away than New York, otherwise you know I would be flyin' down to sample your famous biscuits." He motions towards you and introduces you to the older woman. "Just had to show our newest Statesman member the best damn home cookin' around."

“Well, welcome, honey!” She shifts her attention to you with a beaming smile. “What is it you’re doin’ over there at the distillery, sweetheart?” “I’m a chef, actually.” You flash her a grin as if you’re both guilty of the same crime. “Brand new to the area, and I asked Jack to show me his favorite place. So here we are.”

"Oh well, I don't know if our cookin' 'ill be up to your standards, but let me know what you think." She looks impressed at the fact that you are a chef, as if running a wildly successful restaurant doesn't qualify her for the same thing. "Sweet Jack here was one of my first customers and sometimes he can be a little biased."

“I haven’t had real Southern cooking in about three years, so I’m excited to dig in.” You tell the woman honestly, making sure not to react to the inquisitive look on Jack’s face that you’re sure you’ll be answering for later. “I’m sure Jack’s bias is completely earned.”

Mary flusters, looking extremely pleased and flattered as she shoos you past. "Well you just enjoy and tell me all about it, you hear?" She demands, motioning you towards the drink station. "Get the sweet tea, honey. It's the real star of the show."

“I’m under orders, I guess. Not that anyone needs to encourage me to drink more sweet tea.” Turning to Jack as you move down the line together, you can see the question still in his eyes. “My grandmother died three years ago,” you explain. “There’s nowhere to get good Southern food in New Hampshire, and…cooking it myself hurt a little too much. Made me miss her too much. So I haven’t made anything except her coconut cake since the funeral.”

"I'm sorry, sugar." Jack knows about loss that just cripples you. He's lived with it for so long, he's functioning. At least as much as he could with his heart ripped out of his chest.

“Thank you.” It’s not ‘okay’, so you won’t say so even off-handedly, but you do slip the thin gold band from your wrist and show him the words written inside: Beautiful girl, you can do hard things. “My little sister had these made a few months later. It’s what she always used to tell us when we were worried or scared. So…she’s still with me. I know it’s not the same as losing your wife and son, but…I get what it feels like. Being so sad you can’t even open your eyes in the morning. I know that feeling.”

Jack stares at the phrase, his own eyes pricking with tears and he nods. "Loving someone is a curse sometimes, as much as it is a privilege."

“It is.” You nod and slip the band back on your wrist. “But that doesn’t mean we should stop. It just means the next person should be worth loving.”

Jack can't comment on that. Not when he's vowed to never love someone again. His own tea in hand, it's a silent perusal for a table, one set up in a small corner and he points to it. Unsure of if you will like it. He knows the silence is his fault, but how could he tell someone that he is wearing their tattoo that loving someone else wasn't in the cards for him.

It’s telling, the way chatty and openly flirtatious Jack clams up at your point of view, and you follow him to the table with a flash of melancholy in your understanding. He’s the kind of man who will simply never let go. No one will ever take his wife’s place and anyone that’s drawn his eye since is just a distraction. And for the life of you, you can’t understand why that makes your chest feel hollow and empty the way it does.

He hates that he's put a pall over the outing and once the teas are set down, he reaches for your hand. "Sorry, sugar." He murmurs softly. "It's just— it's hard to talk about. I don't mean to make you feel bad."

“Oh, I’m fine.” Lying through your teeth is what you are, but you smile for him anyway and squeeze his hand. “I think I went too long without eating, that’s all. It can affect my mood. Nothing to worry about.” Swallowing the lump squeezing your heart, you manage to find his eyes. “You can always talk to me. If you want to, I mean.”

"I appreciate that." He does, but he can't. Not without giving away the real issue. It's like your tattoo is burning and he rubs his arm absentmindedly. "Why don't we get you some grub and we can talk about less haunting things?"

“Sure.” You find yourself nodding around him quite a lot, content to be led by him through this new world you’re navigating. After all, you do like him. And Jack’s never given you a single reason not to trust him. “That sounds like a plan.”

______ Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @hardc0rehaylz @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv

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My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Jack Daniels #Jack Whiskey Daniels #Agent Whiskey #Jack Daniels x reader #Jack Daniels x you #Jack Daniels x female reader #Kingsman Golden Circle #Soulmate au

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ghostofthemost141 · 5 months

Text

Serene

Chapter 2

Ch.1. Ch.2. Ch.3. Ch.4. Ch.5. Ch.6. Ch.7.

Pairing: Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x F!Reader

Word Count: 2,200

About: You're on vacation to the beach and you think you're about to die when you're caught in a riptide until an unlikely hero comes to your rescue. Precisely a Scottish man that bores a tail.

!Warnings!: Hint to Assault but nothing graphic

Italics means Third Person POV

Everyone figured that with your most recent incident, you would avoid the ocean at all costs. Or hell even be scared to touch water in general. But imagine everyone’s faces when you told them you were going out for a nightwalk to said beach that you nearly drowned in. Gem and Pixie were the most surprised and even feared for your mental wellbeing when you told them that as you were getting your coat on.

“Dove, are you okay?” Gem asked me.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” I ask, feeling very confused.

“You nearly died and now you’re going to go take a walk at the beach you nearly died at?” Pixie frantically asked, getting close to me.

“We figured you would be afraid of water at this point.” Gem added.

“Nope. I am perfectly fine.” I say, trying to reassure them but they weren’t buying it.

“Why do you want to go?” Gem asked me.

Little did they know that you were off to go search for your savior from the other day. There has to be a reason for all of this. Why would Johnny show himself to you? It was tearing you up on the inside and you had to know before you would leave your vacation home and be a five hour drive away from the beach. Not that a five hour drive drive would bother you, but it was a burning question you needed to know now.

“I think I lost my sunglasses in the sand. I want to go look for them.” You lied, feeling said sunglasses in my pocket but I was trying not to make it obvious.

Both Gem and Pixie looked at each other with concern and back to me, as if I was delusional.

“I’ll be back.” I mumbled, hurrying out the front door and slamming it behind me.

You felt irritated now, seeing how your friends were reacting to your action. You know it was out of concern, considering your recent near death experience, but you would at least think your best friends would be supportive. This was the first time they showed some kind of concern since your incident and well frankly, you expected more out of both of them. But no matter. There was only one person you wanted to see. You started your car, put it in reverse, and drove out of the parking lot of y’alls condo, heading straight for the beach. Ever since that day, about a week ago, Johnny’s bright blue eyes have basically haunted your dreams. Everytime you close your eyes, you would see Johnny’s face, beaming a kind smile at you in the water. And you couldn’t forget about that tail of his. That dark, blue scaly tail. You wanted to run your hands over it, just make sure that it was in fact real. Just seeing it that day didn’t make you believe it. You had to feel it, touch it with your hands. Just the thought of you doing that had your foot pressing down on the pedal, nearly causing you to break the speed limit. Your heart raced as you parked your car near where Johnny resurrected you at. You didn’t even think you would see him and yet here you are, determined to make it happen. You stepped out of your car. You anticipated it to be dark outside, considering there are no street lights on a beach, so you brought your strobe light, making sure it was turtle safe for the many turtles you had already seen during your stay here. You started your venter down the sand, lighting your way and making sure you were treading lightly to avoid stepping on any creatures. You took notice of a familiar bolder that was there on that fateful day. That bolder is the reason nobody saw Johnny. Nobody but you. You passed the boulder immediately, taking notice of something shiny in the sand. It was small but reflected a blue hue when your flashlight reflected it. You bent down and grabbed it. It was a scale. And you knew who it belonged to. Who else would have scales with a dark blue color?

“Are you there?” I called out, scanning the water and near me.

Nothing. And yet you kept rubbing your thumb over the scale, hoping what you saw that day was real. That Johnny was real and not a near death hallucination.

“I don’t want any trouble, I promise, I just..”

You paused. You didn’t really know why you were here. What was the point of you coming here? You should’ve just let it go and went on with your life. But you couldn’t. No. You just couldn’t.

“I want to see that you are real. I won’t tell, I promise. Please, Johnny.”

You call out to him, hoping to hear a recurring splashing in the water or a flop into the sand but nothing. Nothing happened. It was then that you felt stupid, standing out here on the beach in the pitch dark, flashing your stroble light around looking for something that doesn’t even exist.

“Whatever.” I mumbled, feeling the stupidity settle in.

You turned and started walking back to your car. Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid-

“What in the bloody Jesus are you doin’ out ‘ere?”

You whipped around, shining your light towards where you heard the voice. And there he was. In all of his handsome glory. Propped up on the boulder was Johnny. You felt stunned, frozen in place seeing Johnny there, confirming that he was indeed real.

“I uh..” I stuttered, feeling the shock slowly wear off, “I wanted to thank you. For saving my life.”

“I mean I wasn’t gonna let ya drown.” Johnny smirked, sitting upright on top of the boulder, his tail resting gracefully over the side.

“I-I know..I just couldn’t believe you were real. That you are real.” I say, catching glances at his tail.

“You’re the first person to know about meh.”

“Why’s that?” I ask, stepping closer to him, as if his eyes were hypnotizing me to do that.

“Just intuition is all.” Johnny said, eyeing me.

I smiled back, trying not to make it awkward with my noticeable staring but I frankly couldn’t help it.

“How long have you been around here for?” I asked, sitting down next to him.

“A long time, lass.”

“Have you always been a mermaid?” I ask, immediately feeling bad as I felt I was being invasive, “s-sorry.”

Johnny wasn’t offended nor annoyed by your questions. He has never had someone ask of him and get to know him like this. He also felt something he hasn’t felt in a long time from another human. Trust.

“It’s alright, but no. I was once human.” Johnny admitted, looking at me with those bright blue eyes of his. .

He took the opportunity to admire you. It was as if everything about you was perfect, your flowy hair, your beautiful colored eyes, your shiny skin, even with the spotlight pointed towards y’all, he could tell how beautiful you are. It made his heart race.

“You were turned into a mermaid?” I asked, with so much curiosity.

“Yea’. I was a kid and I was in the water and ended up drowning.” Johnny started.

“Oh.” I said.

“But I was saved, just like I saved you, by another mermaid. He was my age. Since then we have traveled far and wide over the world, settling here for the last couple of years.”

“Are you and the boy still friends?” I ask, hearing the existence of yet another mermaid.

“Bloody hell yes. We do just about everythin’ together. He would be pissed off if he knew what I was doing right now.” Johnny jokes, but I instantly felt bad.

“Oh, should I go then?”

“No, lass. I was only kiddin’. I don’t care what that bloody idiot thinks.” Johnny jokes once again, this time making you laugh.

You were completely smitten with Johnny, even though this was only your second time seeing him. He was handsome, and very fit for a mermaid.

“I don’t mean to be ‘like that’, but if you’re a mermaid then how do you stay so fit?”

“Oh I see.” Johnny smirked upon hearing my question.

Johnny raised his outside arm up and flexed his muscles, making a deep blush form on your face.

“You like that, Dove?” Johnny half joked, flexing some more.

“Stop that.” I shoved him jokingly to make him stop.

Johnny just laughed in response, knowing damn well he did it to make me flustered.

“Are you always this flirty with every woman you meet?”

“Nah, just ones that are actually nice to me.” Johnny commented softly.

“People were mean to you?” I ask, returning the same tone.

Johnny held his head down.

“Oh I’m sorry I didn’t mean-”

“No, no it’s alright, lass.” Johnny reassured you with a beaming smile.

He knew you didn’t mean anything bad about your question. You were just curious, which is something he wasn’t used to.

“You see, if I need to come up to the surface, I can turn into a human. I just have to be out of the water for a certain amount of time. And well, I have met some gals, not now a while ago, and of course they want me to come back to their house and..they take me shirt off and see..” Johnny paused, looking down.

I knew what he was referring to. His gills on his sides. I could connect that even though he turns human, his gills don’t go away.

“They get disgusted, not even scared, and run away, all while cussin’ me out. For something I can’t control. I try and stop them ya know? But they keep pushin’ and pushin’ me and then they see me gills and that’s the end of that.” Johnny added.

“That’s their fault, Johnny. Not yours. They pushed your boundaries, even when you told them no. Besides, even if you told them no because of your gills, they should’ve listened to you when you told them no.” I sternly said, only to get my point across.

Johnny felt his heart racing hearing you say those words to him. You were indeed the first human he has ever met to actually be this nice and kind to you. In the back of his head, he felt you had to be nice to him due to the fact that he did save your life but he knew this was out of genuineness.

“Thank you, Dove. You’re the first person I have ever told that.” Johnny confessed.

“I’ll keep it in me heart.” I said with my best Scottish accent, making Johnny laugh.

Johnny knew he could trust you, he just could feel it in his heart that he could trust you.

“I best be going.” Johnny said.

“Oh, leaving already?”

“Yeah before my lad gets concerned on where I’m at.” Johnny said, “do you live around here?”

“No, I live about five hours West.”

“Towards Louisiana?”

“Yep. We are vacationing here and are leaving tomorrow.” You answer.

Johnny pursed his lips for a second before turning back to you.

“In New Orleens?”

“You got it.” I nod.

Johnny chuckled, leaning in close to you.

“I’ll just have to come up there then. When are you bound to be back?”

“Hopefully by tomorrow night.”

Johnny stared at you, sending chills down your spine and you couldn’t help but feel your heart start racing. Johnny then leaned in and connected his lips onto your temple. His lips remained there for a full three seconds before pulling away with a ‘smooch’ noise. You didn’t understand why he did that, but you liked it.

“I’ll see ya den, Dove.” Johnny said as he lifted himself up with his arms and launched himself off the boulder, and into the water, making a splash of water land on you.

“AH! You dick!” You cursed jokingly, hearing the Scot’s laugh.

“Sorry, bonnie.”

“You’re fine.” I laughed, seeing Johnny’s head bobbing out of the water.

I didn’t want him to leave but I knew he had to. His blue eyes pierced into mine, feeling my heart race rapidly.

“When do you want me to meet you?” Johnny asked.

“As soon as possible.” You wink at him.

“Meet me there in two days, same time as tonight.”

You made note of that in your mind.

“I’ll see you then, Johnny.”

“See you then, Dove.”

And with that Johnny dove under the water, his big tail rising up and splashing back into the water and he was gone. You were left alone with the sound of the calm waves crashing into the sand and boulder that was next to you. You were enhanced by Johnny and for a very good reason. Not only was he a mythical creature that your eight year old self would have been gleaming for, but he was also very charming, handsome and kind. Kinder than most men you have met in your lifetime. You left the beach and started your drive back to your condo, already super excited to see Johnny again back in your hometown.

TO BE CONTINUED..

#cod #callofduty #call of duty #cod modern warfare #ghostofthemost141 #cod x reader #modern warfare x reader #johnny soap mactavish x reader #johnny soap mctavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish #johnny soap mctavish x you #cod soap #soap x reader #serene series #simon ghost riley #john price #phillip graves #cod mwii #mw2

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ashleyh713fanfics · 1 month

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Dazai X Odasaku!Sister CH13

Chapter 13: "Celebrating Life Is Stupid”

Summary: After reuniting and growing closer, Dazai and Oda’s sister truly realize the value of each other and the sad bandaged boy falls deeper into the dangerous fascination and infatuation that is Odasaku’s little sister.

Warnings: pm!sixteen year old Dazai, pm! sixteen year old chuuya, ginger is very angry, Suicide mentions, guns, manipulation on both sides, Odasaku death mentions, Dazai being a Simp, Dazai being the demon prodigy but also baby at the same time.

(This is chapter thirteen of my fanfic "Timeless" which is now on A03. It carries on from the three part intro I posted a couple days ago. I'll link it below to fully understand the story. Asagao's ability is to stop time for up to six seconds.)

Three Part Intro (Broken up because the first ch is so long)

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

A03 Version Here:

Word count: 6k total

—-

Tapping his feet in already brewing annoyance, Chuuya pushed his phone closer to his ear as each ear grating ring pissed him off by the second. And honestly, by the third one he debated throwing the entire object into the wall next to him in a fit of frustration.

He knew that little mackerel was doing this on purpose, sending his calls to voicemail over and over again. That guy never had anything notable going on and he knew the boss was gonna have his ass if he didn’t get in contact with that little shit.

But fortunately, or rather unfortunately for him, the line picked up on the fifth ring only to hear that same happy go lucky, irritating sing-song tone he alway seemed to use.

He hated that sound more than anything, mostly because the ginger he was about to be made fun of. “Oh Chuuuuuya, what an impatient little dog you are, blowing up my phone like this. Can't get enough of me I see.”

Gritting his teeth to hold his outburst, Chuuya simply scoffed. “Shut up, it's your own damn fault for not picking up. I know you are doing it on purpose, you shitty little mackerel.”

The voice on the other hands only hummed though, obviously unbothered. “So rude, Chuuuya, assuming such things. I am actually very busy right now. Which is why your interruption is way less pleasant than usual. And that’s saying something, considering your presence is never pleasant.”

Chuuya knew better though. “Bullshit, you’re never busy. You’re probably just fucking around somewhere.”

Just then, he heard a fake ass gasp on the side of the phone only for Dazai to answer straightforwardly. “If you call “fucking around” me currently pinning down a beautiful woman then I suppose you're right about that. Isn’t that right, love?”

Almost immediately, the ginger felt bile work its way into his throat, shoving the feeling down before shouting back roughly. “Ah, you’re so fucking disgusting! I don’t wanna know about that shit.”

Oh my god, why did he have to bring up that kind of stuff?! The last thing he wanted to do was picture shitty stupid Dazai like that, especially with some nonamed whore or brain dead manipulated bitch.

That poor soul that was with him right now, the one Dazai just called love, he pitied her, whoever she was.

Forcing the idea from his mind, Chuuya then shook his head before adding. “Listen, the boss gave us another mission in a couple days and I wanna make sure you don’t try to ditch again or else I’m gonna kill you for real, got that?!”

He knew the kid’s pattern after all, Chuuya knew how flighty and unreliable that stupid mackerel really was and he wanted to make sure that he wasn’t going to get dragged into that again. The first time he flaked was bad enough.

But as expected, Dazai didn’t sound serious, he didn’t even sound remotely interested in his threats as the boy simply waved the question away. “Don’t worry slug, I’ll be there. Can’t have my dog getting lonely, now can I?”

At that name, Chuuya felt his anger spike, the boy unable to stop his outburst. What was his damn problem?! “You fuckin…I’m not a dog!!’

Dazai’s voice only came back confused though, his voice just as annoying, cheerful and mocking as usual. “How strange, all I can hear is woof woof woof so I’m gonna hang up now! See ya, Chibi.”

And just like that, the line turned dead, causing the ginger’s eye to twitch before tightening his hold on his phone before giving into the impulse and throwing the object against the wall next to him.

Watching the phone shatter to prices before his eyes, Chuuya then shook his head before grumbling out his frustrations to absolutely no one.

“I’m gonna kill him..”

——-

Closing his flip phone absentmindedly, Dazai simply smiled to himself before placing the object back into his pants pocket only to hear the voice underneath him speak out hopefully. “Was that Chuuya?”

The boy only shook his head though, pushing his foot further into the speakers chest in order to shove his enemy further into the ground roughly. “Don’t sound so happy about it. That slug shouldn’t gain such a reaction.”

His opponent only put her hands out in defense though, turning her head curiously to the side with an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I couldn’t help it. I’m just curious, that’s all.”

Dazai expected that kind of response though, his eyes moving up in order to glance around the familiar port mafia owned warehouse that they had spent the last hour or so before she spoke again.

And this time, it was far more pushy than before. “Sooo, what did he say?”

Already feeling his lips twist into a bitter smirk, Dazai’s foot then pushed deeper into her chest, exulting double the amount of force in order for her to stop speaking. “Those aren’t the kinds of things you should be worried about, Asa-chan, considering the position you're in right now..”

Which was something that Asagao seemed to be missing in her tiny little brain considering he was currently pinning her down to the dirty and dusty warehouse floor by his foot. He clearly had the upper hand here so there was no reason for her to speak so casually.

That, and the fact that she was asking about Chuuya of all people in this sort of dangerous position caused Dazai’s sick and twisted port mafia heart to darken with malice. He was the one she was supposed to be focusing on, not that glorified hat rack.

She was at the mercy of the demon prodigy and she was acting like they were talking about the weather. He wanted her to regret ever asking about that hat rack in the first place, to apologize between his fingers for not taking his presence seriously and speaking of another so foolishly.

Then to prove his point, the boy reached into his pocket before taking out his gun in order to point the barrel straight at her head with silent warning.

It was a move that would make any one shutter and cower immediately. In fact, it was something he used a million times before to intimate each and everyone of his enemies.

But he had already learned that Asagao didn’t play by the rules of his other opponents.

Turning her head in confusion, the girl simply looked at the foot that was constricting her breathing before returning to the demon with a gentle smile of unbothered idiocy. “Oh, I’m not worried.”

And for a moment, Dazai paused, playing her game. “And why’s that, love?”

He wanted to see what she’d say, how she would justify her calm and collected behavior even though she was staring down the barrel of his gun. Yes, Asagao had outwardly said that she wasn’t afraid of dying by his hand but she wasn’t even trying to get out of it.

And he knew she could, he knew that the hellhound could fight back him if she so chose, so the fact that she was allowing Dazai to pin her down like this was interesting to say the least.

This girl, she was seconds from death and still her eyes held not one bit of urgency.

A moment later, Asagao spoke, her voice full of nostalgic memory as she reached forward in order to pull the barrel closer to her chest. “Because this is how we met, remember?”

Almost immediately, Dazai’s mind seemed to snap back to their first encounter almost an entire year ago. Huh, she was right. They had been in this position before, hadn’t they?

Back when the boy was drowning in his grief, back when he found an intruder in his friend's old place and threatened them in the same exact manner.

If only he knew how utterly life changing that little meeting had been, what kind of storm erupted from the moment he tore that hoodie off her head and looked into her Odasaku eyes.

And it was the same now, the boy looking down at her glasses free expression in order to catalog and trace the iris silently to himself. He seemed to do that a lot lately, getting lost in the emptiness as it swallowed him whole each and every time.

He was grateful for it also, knowing that the dullness of her eyes was way more welcoming then the darkness of his own soul, that by having her here he had switched the method of his demise.

Yes, drowning in Asagao was much more tolerant than drowning in his grief.

A sweeter way to die indeed, a more pleasant experience than what he ever deserved, and yet Dazai couldn’t stop himself from staring even so.

So much so, Dazai felt his lips twist upwards in familiar memory before his finger carefully cocked the gun with a dark chuckle. “Oops. You’re right, how silly of me. Let’s continue where we left off then, hmm?”

Then without a second thought, the executive pulled the trigger as a loud shot echoed through the warehouse. And most people would’ve been horrified by such a reaction, they would have regretted aiming at something he just so clearly said that he admired.

But you see, Dazai didn’t underestimate his girlfriend, not one bit.

Casually putting his hand down on his side, the mafioso then smirked to himself before turning around only to find his enemy a couple feet away, her hands on her hips. “Damn, you really tried to shoot me. I’m surprised and a little impressed, demon prodigy.”

Dazai only shrugged his shoulders though, unbothered. “Well, you told me to look at you as a threat, did you not, Asa-chan?”

It was conversation that was very prevalent in his mind, even today. Sure, the boy should’ve taken their fights easy, he should’ve sparred in a way that made sure Oda’s sister was safe but that wasn’t his style, and neither was hers.

No, Dazai treated her like a real threat, just like she deserved, he trusted that she was smart enough to anticipate his moves and counteract, like just right now.

And the fact that she had done just that also proved his theory that she could’ve gotten out his hold at any time.

What a sneaky shady little hellhound she was. He was onto her big time.

Then as if to prove his internal analysis, he watched Asagao’s face twist into that same twisted, psychotic and giddy smile that enticed him time and time again before watching her fingers twitch in unkept adrenaline just by that simple phrase.

And Dazai would never understand the power his acknowledgment had on her. That just by giving her his entire strength she was already antsy to match it. The hellhound training that had been embedded into her since she was a child, it coated and clouded every other single thought in her brain.

Pushing her fingers up to the ponytail that held her unruly crimson mane in place, Asagao then chuckled darkly before practically ripping the restraint in order to let her hair free.

And with that simple move, she had also ripped down the chains that held the monstrous creature beneath the surface, unafraid of the response it would give. “Oh Samu, you know just how to rile a girl up, don’t you? You’re right about that one, I am a threat. Now allow me to live up to your potential of me and show you how..”

And Dazai loved it, he loved that crazed beast-like look more than anything, his stance grounding itself immediately only to find that his enemy had disappeared in front of his eyes. Ah, she was using her time stopping ability. How cute.

Turning the safety off his gun, the boy then narrowed his eyes before sensing a change of wind to the right in order to let off three more shots just as Asagao reappeared millimeters from his face.

She seemed to register the bullets just in time, her body rolling to the ground in order to just miss the dangerous attacks as Dazai smirked in admiration.

And let’s be honest, should he have been pointing that gun at her like this? No. Should he have been directing his shots with the intent to kill. Also no. It was insanely risky and if she was even second too late then he would have the blood of another Oda on his hands.

Which was something the boy wrestled with internally but it seemed like his port mafia blood craved the opposite, to see just what amazing and enticing ways she could get out each deadly situation he threw at her.

And that desire, that allure was stronger than his fear to keep her locked away forever. No, she had a power, and it was too enticing to ignore, especially for the twisted mafioso who was looking for something entertaining.

He was then taken out of his thoughts as a rough hand wrapped around the barrel of his gun in order to pull it forward without fear as Asagao smirked in victory.

It didn’t matter that the chamber was loaded, it didn’t matter that his fingers were on the trigger and any slight movement could cause the end of her life.

Asa’s grip remained firm, her leg barreling into his side in order for Dazai's muscles to jump and his finger to loosen from the trigger just as she pulled it into her line of sight.

And once the cool metal was in her hands, Dazai wondered what she’d do with it, his senses on high alert only to watch the girl simply empty out the chamber of bullets with one hand, the quiet clinking of metal catching his attention immediately.

How dare she, she had the shot and didn’t take it.

Unsatisfied by her actions, the mafioso then darkened before the boy predicted her next strike in order to grab onto her fist roughly and twist it unnaturally behind her back with a huff.

No, she needed to know that she wasn’t as sly as she thought. That he was onto her little game. “Since you’re all riled up, does that mean you’ll stop holding back now too?”

He wondered how she would react to that, if she would lie about his little discovery or own up to her hypocrisy wholeheartedly? Either could be possible, considering she hadn’t disclosed to him outwardly about her watered down battles.

Asagao told him herself back in Bar Lupin that she was a prodigy just like him, that she could murder like a high level assassin and kill with the quickest of hands.

But if that was true then why hadn’t she tried that with him yet? Why hadn’t Asa displayed intent to kill with Dazai if she was so strongly in favor for believable fights?

It didn’t make sense, and he wanted to know why.

And for a moment, she felt her body still underneath his rough touch, as if she really had to think about his words. He seemed to have broken into something personal for her.

Interesting, she wasn’t denying it. But hold on, was she saying that he couldn’t handle her full hellhound side? That he was some kind of fragile little boy who wouldn't stand a chance? Did she forget that he was in the mafia, the youngest executive in the history of the organization?

She didn’t need to worry about such a thing, besides if that was the result Dazai knew he wouldn’t have opposed. So instead, he coaxed her some more. “Come on, Asa-channn. You’re no fair. I wanna die, remember?”

But even still, Asagao didn’t seem convinced, her body unmoving and eyes closing before he felt her physically shiver underneath his touch, almost like she was reliving some kind of unpleasant memory.

Something scared her, enough to cause such a visceral reaction.

Then Dazai watched as Asagao’s head slumped down into herself, her voice strained and bitter, a tone that the boy had never heard from her before. “I don’t kill anymore, I don’t want to be that person again..

Those words, they felt big, like a massive weight had just fallen on both of their shoulders. But why? What did they mean? What kind of person was she when she killed? What was she like when she truly allowed the hellhound side to fully overtake her? He wanted to ask her.

Yet before he could process that sentence, Asa used his apprehension in order to kick his shin and shift her body around, grabbing onto his forearm before flipping the skinny thin boy backwards over her shoulder.

Feeling his body slam against the ground, the girl then moved on top of him, reversing their previous position with a wave of her finger. “Besides that would be a pretty painful way to go, don’t you think?.”

His entire head began to spin instantly, both from the hit and from her change in attitude. Now she was happy, playful and just as carefree as before. There was no sign of that bitter suffocation that he had heard at all.

Which meant only one thing, she was covering it up.

But to be completely honest, every single thought he had seemed to drown out completely as he looked up at the towering force above him.

Her long messy hair was blanketed over her, shielding the two of them in a cave of her own design as she stared down with that same alluring dead eyed stare that he had admired before.

And not only that, the dim, dingy warehouse lights behind her seemed to melt around her head, bathing her in an ethereal light of some kind, something that made the boy’s heart flip unexpectedly and without warning.

God, she looked like an angel like this, so perfect, so heavenly.

Yet whether she resembled an angel of life or death was to be decided. Perhaps this was a sign from some unknown force, telling him that Oda Asagao would either be the beginning or the end of him.

Perhaps she would be the last thing he would see before leaving this world peacefully or perhaps she would carry him to the afterlife and into the pits of hell with her siren song and her dangerous words. He didn’t know.

He was playing with fire after all, selfish by staying by her side even though he shouldn’t have been allowed to. He was clouding her white light, binding her wings and making her fall to meet his level just because he couldn’t bear to be lonely.

How cruel he truly was, to not have the heart to set her free. It was too late now, the demon and the fallen angel, their fates had been sealed whether he liked it or not.

Reaching his fingers up, Dazai then ghosted across a strand of her falling hair before turning his head in curiosity. “Touché. Well, since you know so much let me ask you, love. What do you think is the most beautiful way to die?”

He wanted to know her answer, more than anyone before. Because he knew that she would answer honestly. She wouldn’t brush it off or disregard the meaning like everyone else.

Dying was a touchy subject it seemed, because although the boy craved it more than anything, it seemed whenever he brought up his little sad goal, no one ever gave him the answer he was looking for.

He didn’t want to be comforted or to hear that there was no beautiful way of death. No, he wanted perspective, real and true perspective. To see what constituted beauty for others, what that meant in terms of what he was searching for.

Because as much as he wished for peace and beauty in death, the boy didn’t know exactly what that meant. How strange it always was, searching for something so desperately even though he didn’t know the true extent of the meaning.

Waiting with bated breath, Dazai allowed her to silently think before the girl put a finger with a quiet and pensive hum. ““Hmmm, that’s a tough one..”

Then she closed her eyes before her lips curved into a confident beam of light. “I guess I would have to say a lovers suicide!”

And that light was blinding, mixing in with the makeshift halo behind her in order for Dazai to turn his head in confusion.He had never thought about that before. Hell, he didn’t even know the term. How curious. “Lovers suicide?”

Nodding to herself, Asa then lifted her pinky finger out in explanation. “Yeah, like a double suicide, you know? Because even if you deemed that the world was awful, you would still have to admit that there was at least one person that made the experience worth it, enough to want to follow them all the way to the afterlife.”

Then to prove her point, the girl simply reached down before interlocked Dazai’s pinky finger with her own, a small smile of her lips as the boy gazed at the sight in awestruck wonder.

Of course she would say something like that. Only Asagao could answer a question about death so hopefully and tragically captivating. Her desire to see the good, to twist the narrative into a positive one, they were extremely prevalent here.

But for once, Dazai didn’t mind it, he liked the idea of having someone to die with. The thought had never crossed his mind before, to have someone to treasure you enough to want to follow you until the very end. It sounded nice. Almost beautiful even, just like he wanted.

Testing out the words on his tongue, the boy whispered. “A double suicide..”

Nodding once, Asa pulled their interlocked pinkies towards her heart in reply. “Yeah! It’s romantically tragic in its own right, don’t you think?”

It was, it really was. In fact, it was so tragically perfect that Dazai knew he would’ve never had thought of such a thing himself. Simply because he wouldn't have allowed himself to think of something so nice and positive.

But now that it was spoken into the world, it couldn’t be forgotten. “I’ve never thought about that before. Do you really think someone would want to do that with me?”

Could it be, could someone really dedicate themselves to him to that extent, enough to give up everything, to walk hand and hand with him to the end of the line? No, that was impossible, no one wanted him, especially in that way.

Asa only shrugged her shoulders though. “You never know! Doesn’t hurt to ask.”

Then all at once, clarity seemed to flash in his eyes. “You’re right..”

That’s it, he just had to ask every woman he saw, then maybe one day he’d get lucky.

Reaching forward, Dazai then shifted his hands in order to grasp onto her wrist before meeting her eyes with a hopeful smile. “Hey Asa-chan! Do you wanna..”

Yet Asagao seemed to already know where he was going with his question, her hand immediately unlatching from his in order to playfully shove her palm into his face and push him back onto the ground. “Sorry Osu, I would do a lot of things for you but killing myself won’t bring me closer to my brother. The only death I’ll accept is one by your hand.”

Damn it, she had said that before, hadn’t she? Ah well, worth a shot.

Throwing his arms out with a child-ish whine, Dazai then pouted his lips at the rejection. “Boo, you give me such a good idea and then turn me down? That’s not very nice. I’m sad now.”

Asagao only laughed though, her tiny giggles taking up the space of his question before pointing a finger out in an offer of her own. “Well, we can’t have that. Oh, I know. How about we stop by the shop on the way home and I’ll buy you some canned crab to make up for it?”

And although it wasn’t what he wanted, her offer enticed him just as much, the boy’s eyes sparkling with pure joy in order to nod his head excitedly.

“Deal!”

——

Stepping through the door of Odasaku’s apartment, Asagao happily turned on the light, the plastic bag full of canned crab clinking together as she moved, only for Dazai to quickly take off his black mafia jacket and throw it on the ground.

And in the past couple weeks of them reuniting, the girl noticed Osamu's childish traits more and more, an action that made her strangely happy. Sure, she still wasn’t sure if he was being completely authentic but she couldn't deny that he at least looked more free when he did them.

In fact, their relationship had grown exponentially since the night Asa cared for him and took off his bandages. She was worried that by pushing that much she would’ve scared him away but it seemed to be the opposite, and for that she was grateful.

Now he came over whenever he pleased, without excuse, and without worry. She would make sure he ate and they would watch TV together and sometimes they would go out to spar like tonight. If anything, the two had definitely moved past the term strangers and into more of a friendship based relationship.

They understood each other, most of the time without words, and that was refreshing to both of them, considering no one else could do such an impossible thing. They were alike and yet so different depending on the circumstance. It was almost fascinating to think about.

She had never had that before, someone that understood so much with so little.

And where most people would call it invasive, Asagao saw his nosey and deductive attitude as a marvel. Although, she wasn’t sure if he felt the same way, considering she stepped out of boundaries before.

But those days seemed long gone as the girl turned back to Osamu only to pause when she noticed discolored tan stains on the bandages around his arms. Well, that was weird.

Reaching her hand up, Asagao then lightly touched his forearm, careful to keep her touch on the gauze as she inspected the source. “What is this?”

Although all she received was a boy-ish smile, filled with fake innocence. “Coffee?”

Almost immediately, something about his sentence seemed off, causing Asa to cock an eye with suspicion. “I didn’t even know you drank coffee..”

Then all at once, the boy nodded his head erratically, his lips moving at a mile a minute in order to give an over the top laugh. “Oh, yeah! I love it, I can’t get enough of it. That’s why I spilled some on me this morning. Oops, I’m so clumsy, aren’t I? Didn’t even notice it till now.”

Pouting his lips all at once, Dazai then whined to himself dramatically. “But now that you mention it, it feels really gross, like super uncomfortable. Asa-chan, you gotta save me! I don't know how I can go on like this..!”

His story was strange, considering she had never heard him speak about liking coffee before, nor did he ever choose that as his drink of choice. Usually it was just whiskey and any other alcohol he could get his hands on.

And what Asagao didn’t know was that she was completely right. In fact, Dazai had never touched the stuff before this morning. He didn’t love coffee, but the reason he had bathed himself in it was purposeful.

You see, ever since the first night Asagao changed his bandages, Dazai couldn’t get enough. He wanted that feeling back, the one that made him feel so safe and cared for. He couldn’t get it out of his head, and trust me, he had tried.

Which led him to taking matters into his own hands, aka finding ways to dirty his bandages so that he would have an excuse to give Asagao the next time he saw her.

At first it started with blood, making sure to purposely hurt his enemies in the most messy way possible in order to soil the white gauze, but then it moved to other things such as alcohol, and rolling around in dirt or dunking himself in nearby rivers.

And today’s plan involved coffee. He had gotten the idea when he saw one of his subordinates walk around the corner with one. So naturally, he ordered the guy to give it up in order to pour the lukewarm liquid on his arms with delightful glee.

Anything to get Asa to touch him like that again, to feel so important and special again. Was it underhanded? Possibly, but the boy knew he couldn’t just come out and ask for such an embarrassing thing.

Staying silent for a moment, he then watched as Asagao seemed to turn his wrist, examining the sight before she let him go with a smile. “I’ll go get the bandages. Meet you on the couch.”

And just like that, he had won yet again, causing the boy to practically skip to the plush cushions of the sofa, unable to hide his delight in song as he watched her go into Oda’s bedroom to receive the first aid kit. “Yay! Asa-chan is gonna help me, she’s gonna help me, yeah! Asa-chan is the best, she’s the very best, yeah!”

Once she turned the corner though, Asagao couldn’t help but close her eyes, already sensing his deceptive demeanor. No one spilled things that clumsily, especially Dazai. Which meant that it was for a purpose.

But because his actions didn’t seem self destructive, the girl chose to ignore them. It’s not like she minded changing out his bandages time and time again. In fact, she loved doing it, it made her feel closer to him.

Returning to the sofa, Asagao then placed herself beside him before placing the gauze on the table only for Dazai to immediately loosen his port mafia tie from his neck with one hand. “Lean closer, darling.”

So she did, the girl pushed her head closer to him so that he could slip off her glasses before unraveling the tie as she averted her gaze from his in silent wait.

Back in the warehouse she may have been able to look at him without her blurry barriers but now that she wasn’t distracted by the fight everything seemed way harder. She still couldn’t look at him head on like this, no matter how much she tried.

Dazai didn’t seem to mind though, his fingers only focused on securing the black tie around her eyes and into a firm knot as Asagao felt herself let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding.

So much better.

Then once her view was obstructed, Dazai couldn’t help but soften at the sight of her instant compliance each and every time.

He loved how she never protested to such a strange request, how she never judged him for not being able to do this without the blindfold. No, she knew that he needed this to continue and Dazai was grateful for that.

Once it was done, Asagao moved her fingers towards the coffee stained coverings before slowly undoing each bind as Dazai felt his breath hitch inside his throat at the emotionally intimate contact.

And even though they had done this exchange about a dozen times, each one felt like the very first. It never got easier, it never made his ears stop ringing and his skin stop shivering.

But like some psychotic masochistic man, Dazai never pulled away, his eyes always entranced with her careful and respectful moves, each calculated, each with a certain intent.

He didn’t think he’d ever get sick of it, the way she cherished him.

Because as scary as it was, her gentle non judgemental fingers gave him a sense of calm along with the chaos. They terrified him and yet they always soothed him in every kind of mitch matched way.

They reached down to the deepest part of his soul, the one he didn’t know existed and embraced it in a warm and welcoming hug. And though the warmth was uncomfortable and foreign, he didn’t outright hate it anymore.

In fact it was quite the opposite, the boy wanted to run to it, he wanted to jump head first into that dangerous and vulnerable place and never return. He was addicted in every possible way, addicted to the idea of being held by her forever.

This was all her fault, how could she? Making him experience such a life changing feeling, he knew this would happen, he knew he wouldn’t have been able to resist this once he had it. How dare she, how dare she make him feel such weak and fragile emotions again.

How dare she coax him into thinking he deserved such a wonderful experience like this?

Those thoughts made him want to be protected by her hands forever, and with the low murmur of the TV in the background and the sickeningly sweet sound of Asagao’s hum to break through the noise, Osamu did feel exactly that.

Protected.

Slowly and without words, Asagao then hummed to herself in order to wrap the fresh clean bandages around his arms before securing the sight and pulling down her blindfold. “Do you feel better now?”

He simply nodded, still in a daze as Asagao smiled softly in return before replacing her glasses. “Good, I’m glad.”

A soft silence appeared then as the two kids allowed it to fill the room in order to turn their attention to the screen that was playing the latest anime episode of the show that they had been interested in lately.

This was nice, just being with him, relaxing without a care in the world. It made the foreign walls of her brother’s apartment feel more personal and belonging. Hopefully it was the same for Osamu also.

Just then, the sounds from the TV snapped her back to reality, watching as the the main character clapped excitedly as the room around her revealed her friends and family, all of them wishing her a happy birthday in joyish surprise. Aw, how cute. They planned all that out for her.

The sight couldn’t help make Asagao pause though, realizing something almost immediately. “Hey, Samu. Now that I think about it, when is your birthday? My brother never said in his letters and I’ve always been curious.”

Yet that’s when she watched Dazai pause, his voice rather dead and monotone, as if he was mentally waving the question away. “Oh, it was five months ago.”

Feeling her face fell in horror, Asa shook her head in denial. “W-Wait..I missed it..?”

No, that couldn’t be. That meant that during the time they were apart he celebrated his birthday by himself? How sad. No one even knew and he just let it pass like nothing, didn’t he?

Wait. That meant that Dazai was now sixteen, didn't it? She didn’t even realize.

It didn’t matter that he never mentioned it until now, how could possibly let such a thing pass so quietly without a word? Now she felt awful. “Oh no, I’m so sorry Samu! What kind of fake girlfriend am I? I didn’t even say happy birthday to you. What is wrong with me, I should've asked sooner, I should’ve..”

Yet the boy only cut her off though, his tone clearly dismissive. “Don’t worry about it. Celebrating life is stupid anyways.”

But how could she not worry about it? That was an impossible task, one that she knew she couldn't complete “B-But..I..”

Dazai only pushed a finger to her lips though, stopping any sense of self hatred she was about to utter before shaking his head.“I already said don’t worry your pretty little head, love. Now, stop that frown or else you’ll turn ugly like Chuuya.”

Then the boy simply smiled before flopping his head onto her lap comfortably in order to turn towards the TV and ignore the conversation completely. “Now, shush, pillows aren’t supposed to be noisy.”

And when the air turned silent once more, it was far more solemn as Asagao absently moved her hand to his hair with an unsatisfied sigh.

But for Dazai, the topic had already left his mind as the soothing feeling of her hand on his hair caused his eyes to grow heavier and heavier with bliss, immediately getting lost in the soft caresses and lulling touch.

How could he think about anything when her magic had already utterly captivated him?

Feeling Osamu’s head sink further into the safety of her lap, Asagao felt her eyes soften at the sleeping boy before thinking back to her previous question.

And though Dazai seemed to forget about it, she could not, his sad little words consuming her mind all at once.

Celebrating life is stupid anyways

Closing her eyes with dissatisfaction, Asagao then shook her head, not liking the implications of his words as she wished to change them even so.

And she would change them, she had to.

“But it’s not just any life, it’s your life. ”

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countrymusiclover · 1 year

Text

Ch 2 - Angel Eyes

Part 3

Cowgirl’s Don’t Cry

@hcwthewestwaswcn co author

Tag list - just ask to be added @lothiriel9 @babygirl-4986 @alicenwrites @hcllfireandhclywater @5sos1404 @darhk-angel @drunkdyslexic @faithm120601 @sqrlgrl22 @opheliax98

Y/n's Pov - 6 years ago

Exiting the barn I brushed my hands over the light brown fur of my horse. My hair was in pigtail braids falling over my shoulders as I heard the main house front door open and saw my mother walking up with a bottle of wine in her hand. "You clearly got an attachment to those things from your daddy. You remember what I taught you right?"

"Don't let any man think they instantly get to be with me. Because they are all led by the tail between their legs." I responded to her knowing that she said she would never get back on a horse after the day her mother was killed. She basically hated them unlike my father who hated whenever he had to put one down.

She rests a hand on my shoulder showing me a small smile then motioned her head towards the young ranch hand that I had met in the barn a few years ago. "Seems like he needs a lesson on how to saddle a horse. Go help him dear."

Ryan ran a hand through his hair holding his hat in his other hand somehow getting some of the straps twisted together. "Need some help there, cowboy?" I chuckled standing beside him, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Shit yes. I don't know I geezed this up!" He cursed under his breath, clearly frustrated, making me shake my head. He sure had the mouth of a cowboy that's for sure.

Patting his shoulder I quickly noticed his problem shifting the saddle around then gesturing with my right arm for him to move. "Climb on now. You'll notice a difference. Oh and here's a tip for riding a horse." Ryan stared down at me as I explained standing up tall then I lowered myself down on my knees a little like I was sitting on the saddle. "When the horse bounces up, let it stand you in the stirrups and when it comes down sit back in the saddle."

"Seems easy enough." He replied as I climbed up onto my own horse.

"Yeah well see about that, Ryan. I bet you'll be cussing till the cows come home."

Ryan glanced back to the barn eyeing my mother who was smirking in our direction drinking her bottle. "Who is that woman watching us?"

"My mother. Now let's ride." I moved my horse behind his hitting the horse on the butt causing Ryan to grab the reins with it taking off quickly.

"Am I gonna get in trouble for talking with you - oh shit!" He started to ask before I chased after his horse, smirking at his language seeing I was right.

I teased him, feeling the wind blowing through my hair while I kept my pace up with his horse hearing him curse every so often but a smile was forming on his face. "If my daddy heard me talk with that mouth of yours he'd ring me up by the rafters in the barn. Just trust me it will get easier."

Y/n's Pov

Y/N looked at him, having returned to the ranch as she dismounted the horse and took them both to the barn "You didn't do too bad cowboy, but I think you will get the hang of it eventually if you're asking me. You've shown improvement in some things, so you've got it going" She says softly, knowing that he was still trying to get used to being on a horse and riding

Y/N was the same way when she first learned how to ride, but she slowly got the hang of it when Beth and Rip left her alone and she eventually figured out what she had to do and how to do it whenever she was alone and able to focus on riding her horse, Marleigh who was a five year old Mare.

Y/N had always had a passion for the animals, but she also knew that her mama didn’t like the damn things because of what happened with her grandmother but she looked at the cowboy as she dismounted the horse and took the saddle off before she heard Ryan coming up behind her as she was leaning against the stable wall as her hand rested on his cheek when she leaned in and kissed his lips passionately and deeply as she made out with him.

Unaware that her uncle was coming into the barn, but she was too caught up in the moment with her cowboy as she pulled away and breathed shallowly as she looked at him and smiled “I would like to do that more often, if you want to Cowboy” She spoke softly to him.

Kayce’s POV

Heading up towards the barn I could hear a weird sound right before I stopped in the doorway seeing my niece and one of my father’s ranch hands kissing. Normally I didn’t care what she did but I haven’t been around much so something came over me. “What the hell do you think you are kissing my niece, Ryan!” The lair broke away and for some reason he seemed confused.

“I didn’t start the kiss. She did - shit!” He cursed fumbling with his cowboy hat on his head.

Stomping forward I grabbed him by his shirt, shoving him away from her. “You don’t need to be anywhere near her. Go get back to work now.”

“What the heck, Uncle Kayce!” Y/n spun on her feet raising her voice towards me. “I’m not ten years old anymore but I guess you don’t know that since you left with the girl you got pregnant!”

Raising my brows at her statement I could sense my sister's personality breaking through. She could surely rip it to someone if they made her angry enough. “Well would rather your father kick him off the ranch. Because trust me darling, being here is a lot easier.”

“Yeah right!” She scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest avoiding my gaze.

Ryan shifted his feet through the dirt walkway of the barn nervously leaving us alone. “Uh….I’m gonna go.”

Rip’s POV

Rip saw Kayce dragging his daughter to the house by her ear, he rolled his eyes and stepped down off the porch as he looked at his brother in law. “I suggest you let her go, you ain’t got no right to be disciplining my child when you can’t even keep your son under control. Now let her go, or I will fight you Kayce.”

He says, being protective of his little girl who he loved more than anything and he wouldn’t stand for her uncle to be doing what he was to her as he walked to him and shoved Kayce hard. “Y/N go on inside, you are gonna wait there until i tell you to come outside. Do you hear me.”

He was never harsh on his little girl, and he wasn’t going to start doing so now as he ran a hand through his hair as he talked with Kayce and sorted everything out. “You let that girl be, and worry about your own. I will handle her, you aren’t her parent. I am.” He says sternly, being protective and defensive of the girl he had been raising for 17 years now.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

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nextinline-if · 11 months

Text

June 25th, 2023 - Chapter 2 Progress DevBlog

I'm pretty disappointed with my progress this week but I had to work late a lot. I started working at a start-up a couple months ago and I really like it but it's been crazy busy. Anyway...

Progress with writing was pretty slow last week. Because the game was beta tested this past week (thank you to those who assisted!), I spent most of my time fixing a bunch of coding errors since I suck. lol. Here's what I did coding-wise (you'll see these changes when chapter 2 comes out):

fixed a bunch of conditional errors and a couple javascript ones where I accidentally added a period (RIP);

re-did some of the color schemes...again. It should be easier to read and I feel like I got the light/dark themes to a better place;

you can now change the font size and you can now choose OpenDyslexic as a font type.

okay, that doesn't sound like a lot. See screenshots at the end for a glimpse!

I wrote 3,293 words... I'm planning to write every day for at least 2-3 hours this week to catch up. Ideally, I would write 2K words a day.

I think there are about 20,000 more words to finish chapter 2? Just my estimate though.

Here is where things stand for Chapter 2...

Word Count (includes some code):

Current demo word count: 59,479

Current word count for just ch 2: 82,920

Total game word count (including ch2): 142,399 and counting...

Next, here's the scene order and what's written/coded/in progress:

Scene 1 - completely written and coded

Scene 2 - completely written and coded

Scene 3 - completely written and coded

Scene 4 - completely written and coded

Scene 5 - completely written and coded

Scene 6 - completely written and coded

Scene 7 - completely written and coded

Scene 8 - completely written and coded

Scene 9 - completely written and coded

Scene 10 - partially written and partially coded (sorry no percentage, I hate math)

Scene 11 - in progress (4 main branches)

Scene 12 - completely written and coded

Scene 13 - completely written and coded

Additionally, because I was so busy, I forgot to log in to Patreon and pause it. I've had it paused for a couple of months because I don't have time to do extra content and I don't want anyone to pay for no reason! However, I slipped up, so I went ahead and left it open right now and uploaded the current build with the incomplete chapter 2. I don't recommend anyone subscribe just to play it since it's not done but it's there in case someone wants to or is already subscribed. I anticipate adding a couple more scene variations next week.

Below are a few screenshots of what the game looks like. There's even a snippet of a scene from Ch2. It's not super different! But I think it looks better?

Oh, if you want to read a couple beta tester thoughts, keep looking, otherwise, thanks for taking the time to read!

Thank you and I hope you all have a great week <3

#chapter 2 things #devblog #vi rambles

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yunaloona · 1 year

Text

“Why can’t we love each other” Ch.2

Human!bully!Aonung x Reader (Highschool AU)

Warnings: None!

It seem like he’s getting more and more annoying by the day but… he can be.. endearing?

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s been a few weeks since you and Aonung’s first encounter. What you thought would be a “one time thing” of your first incident has become a common part of your daily schedule. He used to just crack a couple funny insults in the hallway as you walked pass each other, but now he’ll find you at your locker or outside of classes just to walk with you and make some rude comments, most in a teasing manner.. but you do admit some of them do hurt your feelings. Now you don’t just take them, obviously you insult him back. Most of the time feeling as though you win your little bickering sessions.

~~~

During your time here at school though you have made quite the abundance of friends, even meeting some of Kiri’s siblings and growing quite fond of them. You met Lo’ak because he asked to cheat off of your homework during one of your classes, and Neteyam being in the grade above you, met through Aonung surprisingly. They’re both in the same grade and he offered you to join “The Sully Family Study Sessions” when talking about how some of the quiz questions didn’t make much sense. You also had some other acquaintances like Roxto, he’s usually always around Aonung but you two met through Kiri when he’s occasionally sit next to her at lunch.

~~~

-present day-

~~~

Sleepover.

Tsireya invited you and Kiri to a sleep over. She sounds very excited, but surprisingly she’s never hosted one and really wants the two of you to come.

“You all should come to my house on Friday for a slumber party, it will be so fun. I’ll make snacks and we can watch movies and paint our nails and do hair..” she was still going on talking about everything she wanted to do for activities, it sounded really fun but you had to ask your mom before anything.

“I’ll see if I can go, I’ll have to ask my mom first though!” You gave her the honest answer not wanting to get her hopes up but not shooting them down either. Kiri added on saying “Same I have to ask my parents, but as long as we host a sleepover not at my house I’m willing to go.. I have too many siblings that’ll butt in if I bring guest.”

~~~

-time skip-

~~~

When you got to Tsireya’s house (which thankfully you mom let you go) you were a little nervous, this wasn’t your first sleep over… but seeing Aonung outside of school made you excited. You didn’t know why but you’ve always felt like you had a little crush on him.. NOT that you had one.. he only made your heart flutter every time he’d walk with you to class, or you’d get giddy anytime he’d look at your eyes, but he’s a big bully you could never love. You shook those thoughts away knocking on the door.

Thankfully for you Tsireya opened the door and Kiri was already inside setting down a popcorn bucket.

“Welcome to my house Y/N!! I’m so excited you’re here, Kiri only got here like 10 minutes ago so you didn’t miss out on anything, please come in! I’ll show you my room where you can set your things” you smile saying your greeting to them and follow Tsireya upstairs while Kiri picks the movies you’ll be watching downstairs.

When you got up there you walked by a room wide open, it was kinda messy but not too bad, you assumed it was Aonung’s room since you walked passed it.

Entering Tsireya’s room, it was very tidy and neat compared to her brother’s, she had a candle on and had lights and some plants decorating it.

“Alrighty this is my room, you can set you stuff down here and I’ll be downstairs, come down when you’re ready!” She left the room heading downstairs when you placed your belongings down. You heard a flush coming from the upstairs bathroom and a sink running, you started to semi panic hoping it was just her mom or dad, but to your dismay you see Aonung pass by the room.

He catches a glimpse of you and makes a U-turn back to where he saw you.

You stand there a little awkwardly and wave saying hello.

“Oh you finally are here. When Tsireya said she had guests I assumed you were one of them. Of course she invites the weirdest friends she has here.” He states

“Whatever, just try not to bother us too much yeah?” He rolls his eyes

“Me? Please. Just keep it down and we won’t have problems yeah?” He said mocking you. Now it was your turn to roll you eyes.

You shoo him off and he lifts his hands up walking backwards into his room smirking, then closing the door. You sighed in annoyance shrugging your shoulders.

~~~

Later that night you couldn’t sleep, you didn’t really know why but you’ve always had some trouble in new environments when it had to do with going to bed.

So you got up making sure to stay quiet as you exited.

Waking through the hallway you felt a presence watching you. Though you ignored it walking down stairs, hoping you’d get tired out by walking around a bit, their house is pretty big. As you reach the kitchen you hear a “Ahem” and jump turning around seeing Aonung.

“Eywa! You scared the shit out of me” he laughed looking down at your figure.

“What are you doing up walking around? Couldn’t sleep?” He said obviously sarcastically but you nod you head

“As a matter of fact, yes, I could not sleep.”

He clicked his tongue sighing. He motioned you to follow him, and you did.

You both walked up to his room, he pulled up a chair from his counter sitting on it pointing at his bed so you can sit there, that obviously being the more comfortable option. You decided to speak up being a little confused but also being not so sure you want to be on his bed.

“I don’t know there might be some undiscovered diseases on there”

He looked at you unamused

“Just get on the bed weirdo”

You go up to the bed, it actually being quite clean, while you lay on it he grabs a remote putting on the tv for you two to watch.

“I put on *favorite tv show* because you never stop talking about it when I see you with my sister” He sounded annoyed, but you find it quite sweet that he paid that much attention.

“Aw you actually listen to me when I talk?” You say making fun of him

“It’s not like i can’t, you’re so loud that i can barely hear myself think when I’m in a 100 mile radius from you.” He retorts, you laugh and he smiles a little.

Throughout most of the night goes by like a blur, you guys talked and watched shows for a while until you ended up falling asleep on his bed.

When you woke up in the morning you weren’t in Aonung’s room but rather in Tsireya’s sleeping where you were originally at. You wondered if he’d carry you here, more over if that interaction was even real.

Soon when you were leaving because your mom was picking you up, you were saying goodbye to everyone when Aonung came downstairs walking up to you. Leaning in your ear he whispered

“I had fun last night” you looked at him in shock. Raising his head he said

“You’re a little lighter than I thought you’d be hm?” You pushed him playfully

“Bye Aonung.” You waved him off leaving the house

Smiling to yourself all of the way home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#ao’nung x reader #aonung x y/n #aonung #aonung x reader #avatar ao'nung #avatar x reader #atwow #tsireya #kiri avatar #avatar tsireya #atwow loak #human!au #neteyam #jake sully #avatar the way of water #neytiri #tukitrey

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last-starry-sky · 6 months

Text

Girl's Night Out - ch. 2 pt. 3

friday|saturday|sunday

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

pairing: Ghost x shy!goth!f!reader

rating: E

summary: Oh Sunday, a day of endings. Everything is going so well until those pesky feelings get tangled and what has to happen, happens.

word count: 10.2k (bruh)

warning: mdni, not beta-read and barely edited, a truck-load of self doubt and issues from reader, size difference 💀, fingering, light d/s /praise/authority kink (idk what to exactly call it), mention of death of a parent, unprotected piv (she's explicitly on the pill tho), more domestic fluff, angst right at the end. a/n at the end!

Repeating my warning hear for all of the chapters, I have committed the ultimate, unforgivable sin in this: Ghost is maskless. So if that ruins it for you, sit this one out.

sunday

Simon was the one who woke you early the next morning. It was gentle and unintentional. The birds were singing outside, but the sun had not yet broken over the horizon. Your room was bathed in an intense blue that even your curtains couldn’t hold back. You had hardly noticed you weren’t dreaming as you felt his breath rustle through your hair and his hand trace over your shoulder in a circle. You let your hand fall against his left arm, outstretched into the middle of the bed. He had pulled you against his chest again, just like the first night. You ran your fingers over the flames between his tattoos, drinking in the warmth of his skin. You were so warm here, warm and protected and-

“Tell you about mine,” he whispered in his grumbly morning-voice, fingers now obviously tracing the outline of the skull and flowers on your shoulder blade, “if you tell me about yours.”

Oh.

Your hand stilled on his arm. His still traced their soothing pattern across your back. You should have felt the familiar pit form in your stomach, or your nerves begin to make you shake, but you didn’t. You blew out the breath you were holding. Maybe it was time to tell him.

“Don’t hav-” he started to say.

“Got it two years ago. For my dad,” you interrupted.

You felt his fingers trace over the round lines of the skull at the center of your tattoo: the empty eye sockets, the nasal openings, the neat row of teeth. You had started to do the same to the large skull in the middle of his forearm. You let out another shaking breath. You could feel the questions he wanted to ask, that he wished he could pull directly from the ink in your skin and not have to use his mouth to form stumbling human words to. Words were wrong, you felt. Unnecessary. You tapped your fingers on his inked skin. That’s why you always held them in until it was too late.

“He died five years ago. Cancer,” you whispered.

“Sorry,” he said pressing his lips to the back of your head.

You let out a shaky breath, willing yourself not to cry. “It’s okay,” you whispered, “It was- he went quick. No pain,” you added, voice cracking. Simple words that shouldn’t have been so painful. Still so painful.

His thumb smoothed over the banner that ran above and below the skull. You knew what he was going to ask before he opened his mouth.

“Wha’s this say?” he asked.

“Memento Mori,” you recited from memory.

“Latin?” he asked.

You nodded your head. “It’s an old saying: ‘Remember Death’. My dad loved philosophy, was always sending me books for my birthday,” you remembered wistfully, almost laughing. “It helped after he was gone to think about . . . everything like that.”

“Hows that?” he asked.

“That we all could die at any time. That all we have is this one life and in the end, we all end up the same.” You stroked the skull on his arm again, resting your hand against his wrist.

“What about the flowers?” he asked shuffling down to press his face into your neck.

“One for my mom, my step-mom, and my brother,” you said with a shiver as he kissed slowly down your neck.

“Which one’s which?” he said into the crook of your shoulder.

“The rose is for my step-mom. The sunflower is my mom’s. Their favorite flowers.” You sighed, wanting so desperately to turn around so you could kiss him, but his hand on your shoulder kept you in place.

“What about your brother?” he asked, “Make it sound like he didn’t get his favorite.”

You sighed, this time in annoyance. “He wouldn’t pick. Said he ‘didn’t have one’, so I asked his fiance and my mom to pick for him.”

“What’d they pick?” he asked running his fingers down the long stem of the unfamiliar flower.

“Lavender. It grows wild, like a weed almost, where he lives. His fiance said he refused to get rid of any of the plants in their yard when they moved into their house, that he would sit outside in the mornings after they bloomed, enjoying the smell. We all figured it’s his favorite, but he won’t admit to it.”

“Where’s he live?” he said, pressing a kiss to the top of your spine.

“Washington state,” you said uneasily. You were unsure if he would ever notice your strange accent or other non-British quirks. He hadn’t said anything yet.

“You from there too?” he asked.

“No,” you said. You paused to refamiliarize your mouth with American English before you continued. “Grew up in Illinois.”

He laughed into your shoulder, pressing a kiss to the skull. You blushed. “Thought you sounded like an expat.” He slid his hand under your shirt and down your stomach to press you to him. You shivered against his hardening cock. “How’d y’ end up here?” he asked sinking his hand lower, past your panties. You were reminded that you had kicked your pants off in the night, too warm cuddled in Simon’s embrace.

You gasped as he split your folds apart, his fingers following close behind, pressing and circling your clit. He didn’t expect you to keep talking like this, did he? He only gave you a few flicks of his wrist before he stopped. He leaned in to whisper huskily in your ear.

“Hear me?”

You groaned, clenching on nothing, trying to collect your thoughts from the lustful haze he had drug you into. He was so fucking unfair sometimes and you hated that you loved it.

“Yeah,” you finally answered, “It’s . . . complicated.”

“Don’t mind that,” he said flatly, reaching his hand up to squish your breast. His hands were softer today, but the texture of his skin still tingled deliciously as he rolled your nipple in his fingers. “Tell me.”

You sighed, bucking back against him. “My dad’s from- was from England. He moved to the states for work. He was working for an international firm and they needed a lawyer in Chicago. He met my mom while she was working there too and everything went off from there. Marriage. Kids.” His hand lightly started to trace down to your body again. It made you tremble in anticipation. “When they got divorced he moved back here. Got remarried.” he breached your labia and started to circle your clit again. “Not much else to say,” you sighed, bowing into his hand.

“Yeah there is,” he said, his arm pulling your leg to rest over his, splaying you open for better access. He sent his hand lower to pump a finger into you. You let out a long moan as he did.

“W’as that?” you slurred, barely coherent.

“Why’d you leave?” he growled into your ear. The tone of his voice was sending you. “Grew up in the states. Whole family there.” he was pumping into you furiously. You gripped at his arm with both hands, face buried in the sheets. “Must’ve had a comfortable life. Why’d you go through all the trouble? Why leave ‘em behind?”

He hit your g-spot and you cried out, throwing your head back as you did. Simon took immediate advantage. He curled up his left arm to brace across your chest, holding you, arms and all, in place as he hit that spot again and again. You were crying out, trembling under his assault. Your head was empty of everything except the wild desire to cum. He bucked against your ass, groaning into your ear. His fingers squelched in your pussy with every movement. You were so close.

“Why?” he demanded loudly, almost angry.

“No one else would go!” you cried, slamming into your peak hard with a full body shudder, tears falling from your eyes.

Simon pulled his fingers from you when he felt your tears hit his skin. It was too late though. You were already over the edge, bowing against his back, trembling against him, sobbing as you worked through the weirdest, most emotional, orgasm you’d ever had. You buried your face in your hands after you let out your last sob, ecstasy washed from you and replaced with shame. You’d ruined it. You’d ruined everything.

“Hey,” he said softly. He sat up to loom over you, his hand petting at your side.

You didn’t want to look at him, but he rolled you onto your back and pulled your hands away. You didn’t fight him. He looked down at you sadly, a frown quirked across his mouth. He watched you wipe away your tears.

“Shouldn’t have done that,” he whispered.

“Don’t,” you said, meaning to sound soft but your rough throat made it aggressive.

You ran your hands up through your hair. You sat up too, leaning against the side of the window for support. You pulled your knees into your chest.

“You deserve to know. To hear everything.” You sighed as you let your shoulders rest flat against the window, spine straight. “My dad called me one night. Didn’t really say anything, just said he missed me, wanted me to fly out if I could. That’s how he was. I was in a weird place in my life,” you said with a small huff of a laugh. That was putting it very gently. “I wasn’t really doing anything important, so I took him up on it. I flew out the next day.” You swallowed hard as you thought how to phrase what you wanted to say next. “I knew something was wrong when I saw my stepmom was there to pick me up at the airport. Dad always wanted to be the first one to see me.” Your voice broke at the end, tears starting to blur your vision again. “He was gone two weeks later.” You tried to wipe them away. “Shouldn’t be crying over it still, after all these years.”

Simon pulled himself close. He was looking at you, close to you, not trying to touch you, just still. Cautious. Thinking. Planning. A frown was still cut into his face. “I-I was too hard with you. Pushed you. Shouldn’t have-” He bit his lip.

“I didn’t mind,” you confessed, wiping your eyes on the hem of your shirt. Simon was silent. You let out a breath. “I actually . . . I liked it,” you said in a whisper.

Simon finally moved, resting his back to wall on the other side of the window, rumpling the curtain. Light flooded his side of the room. He was quiet for a second. “What’d you mean?”

You took initiative, for once, and looked at him. His face was lit bright blue by the early morning sky. “I like it when you talk like that, when you’re fucking me,” you said looking up at him with your large, tear-rimmed eyes. When he didn’t respond, you looked away, laughing. “If that makes any sense,” you added.

“So, you get off when I’m mean to you?” he asked, suspicion dripping from his voice.

His crass phrasing made you smirk. “No, not mean,” you insisted, leaning forward. You searched for the right words and came up empty. “More like . . . dominant?”

“Commanding?” he added. You nodded. That was the perfect word, the one you had been searching for. He groaned, rolling back against the wall. He reached up and covered your hand on your knee with his. He ran his other hand over his face. “How’d I fuckin’ end up with a girl like you,” he mumbled into his hand.

You heard him and it made you blanche. “Is that . . . bad?” you asked.

He removed his hand from his face and looked at you. “Christ no. It’s just-” he said squeezing your hand with a small laugh, “That’s my job. Tellin’ men what to do, where to go. Spendin’ weeks barkin’ out orders ‘til my voice is shot. Figures it would bleed over.” The possibility of his voice being deeper and rougher than it was now certainly was something you needed to think on further.

He laughed a short little laugh and you joined him. His hand left your knee to pull around your shoulders. This was . . . good? You were hopeful.

“You don’t have to do it if you don’t want,” you told him, “Just don’t feel bad if you get a little mean or rough. I can handle it.”

He laughed at that, that wide, wry smile spreading across his face. He quickly pivoted his body to slide his other arm under your legs. He scooped you up from the bed with a squeal.

“Oh love,” he said with a smile, “you don’t want to see me when I’m mean,” he said carrying you out to the living room.

He set you on the couch, wrapping you in the blanket, before wandering off to the kitchen without another word. You heard him dump the coffee grounds from yesterday in the trash and start a fresh pot. Then you heard him start to run the water in the sink, followed by dishes falling into the hot, soapy, water one by one.

“Don’t have to do the dishes yet!” you called, not wanting to move from your warm spot on the couch.

“Want to!” he yelled back, the sound of your silverware clinked into the drying rack over the water and his voice. “Besides, need something to fill the time waiting for the coffee.”

“I could make breakfast?” you asked, remembering how much he had liked your slap-dash egg on toast yesterday. If you had time, you could really pull out all the stops to impress him. Simon didn’t respond, probably set on his decision.

He came around the corner with two mugs of steaming coffee. “Don’t want you to move from there until you wake up, hear me?” he said handing you your cup.

“Okay,” you said taking it from him. You sipped at the black coffee, wincing a bit. “You know I have cream and sugar, right?”

Simon was pulling your curtains open, dawn having finally broken. He stood looking out at the empty street while you talked. “I don’t mind,” he said taking a long drink from his own cup.

You just stared at him. He had just told you that you were forbidden from getting up. You held your stare as you shuffled forward an inch, hopefully communicating your intentions. He understood your actions, quickly stepping over to snatch your cup from your hands.

“Thank you!” you called as he stalked back to the kitchen.

You heard the refrigerator open, then your ceramic sugar pot, followed by a quick, tinkling, stir. He was back before you could tell him how you wanted it. As he leaned down to set the warm cup back in your hands, you hopped up to peck him on the lips. He tried to cover up his sleepy smile by turning away, sipping his bitter coffee, but you saw it. You hid your own in your mug of now more palatable coffee.

He leaned against the window, letting you take up the couch. Nothing broke the silence between you while you followed his orders: drink your coffee and wake up. He must have spent the time as you did, thinking. You were wrapped up in plans for the day, which wasn’t much. With Simon here, you only had to put away your laundry and put fresh sheets on your bed. Not that you wanted to. You liked smelling him when you curled together at night. You had been right at the bar on Friday night. It wasn’t cologne or anything special that made him smell like that, it was just him. Even after spending two days surrounded by your laundry detergent and using your shower products.

You pressed your legs together as you buried your face in your coffee. Fuck, thinking of him was winding you up again. You were still painfully wet and horny from before. You had hoped he would fuck you this morning, but things had gone sideways. You sighed. You hazarded a look up and, yep, he was watching you. You quickly turned back to your coffee, about to take a sip but you were left staring at the bottom of the cup.

“Another?” he asked, still cooly leaning against the wall, the long line of his legs making him look so much taller. You nodded and he popped off to step toward you. You tried not to feel like jelly when your hands brushed as he took the cup from you. “Same?” he asked staring down at you.

“Yeah,” you answered weakly, hoping you sounded tired and not desperately turned on, “It was good, however you made it.”

He chuckled and walked away, leaving you to bury your hands in your lap trying to relieve the pressure. You distracted yourself by watching people begin to go about their lives outside: walking their dogs and children, dressed up people on their way to church.

The cup appeared next to your face, almost making you jump. You took it from him with shaking hands and a quick thanks. You took another drink as Simon took up post next to you, abandoning his position at the window. His hand came up to soothe over your shoulder. It was a simple, chaste, gesture, but it made you clench, blowing the steam off the top of your cup.

“Plans for the day?” he asked, hand still massaging over your shoulder and back.

“Yeah,” you said leaning into the strong press of his hand. He stopped and you blew out another relieved breath. “Gotta get the laundry folded and put away. Pick up the apartment.” Your stomach rolled as he kneeled down to your level, his arm curling around your waist.

“Dishes are done,” he said pulling himself closer to your face, lips brushing together. “Leaves the rest of the day.”

You pushed yourself the last centimeter together, shivering as your mouths met. You heard Simon’s cup clank against the floor, his free hand then coming up to cup your jaw. You gripped your cup in your lap, keening as he pressed his tongue into your mouth. You moaned pitifully as he pulled away too soon. Simon carefully took the cup from your lap, setting it on the floor besides his own, before letting you pull him back.

“Si,” you whimpered as he pulled away to breathe.

“Jus’ for a little bit, love,” he groaned, pulling your legs off the couch so your body could face him, “Gotta get our work done first.”

Our work. You whined at the thought of it as he pressed back in to kiss you. You untangled your legs from the blanket, kicking it to the floor so you could loop your knees around his waist. You thought he was going to push you away when you felt his hands on your knees, but he just groaned as he ran his hands up your bare legs to your hips. His thumb innocently rubbed against the lace border of your panties. You bucked pitifully as he did.

He pulled away and looked down. “You ain’t-” he said huskily, turning into a low groan as he saw how soaked you were. “Ain’t no way.” He pressed his thumb to your wet panties, slicking up from your leaking hole as you shuddered. “Jesus,” he groaned, “an’ you said I was easy.”

“Si!” you cried against his mouth, “Please!”

“Please what?” he questioned, his tone turning on a dime, breath hot against your face. He pressed two fingers cruelly hard against your clothed clit, making you shudder again.

“Please fuck me!” you cried, balling your hands in his shirt, all of your shyness melted away. “Want you to fuck me again. Need it.”

He claimed your mouth again, kissing you with a tenderness that mismatched with the rough pace of his hand. He locked the fingers of his free hand in the hair at the back of you head before pulling you away from his mouth.

“Tha’s what my girl wants, hmm?” he said breathlessly, voice hard. You were nodding, communicating all you could as he swirled your brain. You were laser focused on only one thing: my girl. He pressed your face back to his but refused to kiss you. “Then y’ gotta be good and get y’ work done after. Copy?”

“Copy,” you responded weakly. Fuck, you didn’t think you could sink any farther down into what he was doing to you, whatever it was called, but you loved it. You wanted it.

He hauled you up off the couch, spinning around and stomping off to your bed. A stripe of daylight still lit your bed where the Simon had moved the curtain. Simon dropped you on the mattress with seemly little care. You let out an oof as you landed.

“Okay?” he said shucking off his shirt.

You nodded as he stood in between your legs, walking up the bed on his knees to you. When he got there, he leaned down to pull your shirt off. He lay over you, giving in for a moment to make out with you before kissing down your body to you navel. He shuffled both of you legs to one side of his chest. When he got there, he sat up, pulling your underwear up off your hips, letting them slide agonizingly slow up your legs, before tossing them behind him.

He let your legs fall open, watching as the sticky, slick folds of your vagina opened as well. You’d thought you were brave before, but now you felt so scrutinized. You covered your face with your hands as Simon’s fingers stroked over you gently. You moaned as he circled your hole with those two thick fingers.

You let your hands fall away as you looked up at him. He wasn’t looking at you face. He was lost: blush lightly coloring his cheeks, pupils dilated to consume his brown irises, breathing raspy and uneven, he was entirely concentrated on your little hole clenching so nicely for him. It made you moan at how much he wanted you, and how much you wanted him.

“How’m I gonna fit in there?” he mumbled, pushing in just the tips of his fingers, swirling them around your slick, working the tight muscle open. Fuck, why was he choosing now to be so gentle?

“It’ll fit,” you sighed as he pushed his fingers in further.

Simon’s counter to your blissed out answer was to palm his cock against his briefs, emphasizing his size.

“Couldn’t before,” he grunted.

You knit your brows together in frustration and pushed yourself down against his fingers, driving them in deeper. Simon gasped as you did. You squelched as he scissored his fingers apart, slick running down his fingers.

“Make it fit,” you told him, voice hard and eyes serious as you humped against his hand, “Want all of you.”

“That’s my girl,” he said, locking eyes with you. The fingers of his other hand bit into your hip as he held you down.

He pulled out his two fingers briefly before returning with three, completely ignoring your pleasure to focus on working you open wide and deep. Not that you didn’t get anything from it. You fell into the rhythmic pump of his hand, filling you up before twisting away. He was punching little gasps out out you at the height of every thrust.

He leaned over you, giving in again to kiss you, letting you lock your arms around his neck. His stubble was longer today, pricking incessantly at your face. The thought of that stubble rubbing against your cunt as he ate you out shot like lightning through your mind. You were clenching around his fingers, stopping them from moving hardly at all, before you could stop yourself. He groaned against your mouth. He pushed his body up to slot evenly with you, splaying your legs open around him, allowing him to rut against you just once.

“Gonna fuckin’ kill me doin’ things like that, love. Y’ like it that much?” he whispered against your mouth.

“Yes, Si. Just-” you said, pawing at the back of his head. He stroked, almost intentionally, over your g-spot, just as you spoke, sending you shuddering silently back against the bed.

“What’s that love?” He asked, peppering slow kisses across your face, as he worked over that spot again and again and again.

“Si, please!” you managed to gasp out, fingers pulling at his short hair. You let out a long whine as he continued to stroke you open.

“Gettin’ y’ there, love, don’t worry. I’ll get you there,” he said sweet and low right in your ear. It made you want to sob. “Been so good f’ me so far. Lovely girl deserves to cum again, yeah?”

“-yeah,” you cried weakly, clutching him close to your face. Your head was swimming with delicious sparks again. He kissed at your top lip, parted as they were with your constant string of sighs and moans.

“Then cum f’ me,” he said rolling the rough pad of his thumb deliciously over your clit.

That was all you needed. You were shuddering up the bed as you came with a high-pitched gasp. Your thoughts were everywhere and nowhere at once, leaving your head floating and empty. Aware of nothing but what was present, nothing but what you felt against your skin. You bowed up against his torso, his hand not stopping as he worked you gently through your high.

“‘s a good girl,” he sighed against your neck, “So good f’ me.”

Fuck. That had you screwing your eyes shut even tighter and clenching around him again. He was going to be the death of you at this rate. Your hands clenched in his hair again. He chuckled, pulling his fingers from you. He gripped both your hips, pressing his thumbs into the dips above your pelvis.

“Ready?” he breathed across your lips.

“As I’ll ever be,” you said blankly back, eyes as glassy as his were dark.

With that, he pulled away, sitting back on his heels. He looked so beautiful in the morning light. That singular, golden stripe of light from the crack in your curtains, threw a line across his stomach, highlighting the divot of a long, vicious scar as well as the trail of delicate, dark gold hairs running down from his belly button. He looked down at you as he shucked off his briefs. You sighed at the sight of him, the tip was leaking strings where it knocked against his stomach. You were so fucking ready to have him inside you again.

Have him . . . inside you, you thought again, running your mind over the thought like a bump in the wood you knew shouldn’t be there. You shot upright, heart pounding. Simon reeled back, surprise and concern painted on his face.

“What-” all he could get out before you interrupted, wriggling off of the bed.

“Forgot to take my pill! Be right back!” you exclaimed dashing naked out of the room. You were back half a minute later, Simon was still sat where you left him. “Sorry,” you said sitting back down, swallowing hard behind your hand, trying to force the little pill down your throat, “Hope I didn’t ruin the mood.”

“No, not at all,” he said helping you slide back into place, his hands running up your legs, “Didn’t know. Would have reminded you.” Of course he would have, you thought blushing. “Should’ve asked you earlier, honestly,” he added, leaning down over you again.

“Not tryin’ to baby trap you, Si,” you sighed as he nuzzled against your jaw, stubble pricking you. He pressed a kiss over the red marks he left. “Don’t even like it when guys cum in me, anyway.”

“Really,” he said flatly, kissing the side of your mouth. “When’s the last time that happened?”

You blew out a long breath, thinking back five years. Simon leaned over on his arm and stared down at you as you talked.

“It was the first guy I was with when I moved here. I didn’t want anything serious, given . . . everything that had just happened and the chaos of my life. We were on again/off again, but I could tell he wanted more. I always got the icky feeling he wanted to knock me up so he could convince me to marry him.”

Simon raised his eyebrows at that, biting his lip. “Husband material,” he commented dryly.

“Glad I wised up and left him,” you said reaching over to run your hand over the blonde fuzz covering his jaw. He leaned into your hand, closing his eyes. “Told him a thousand times I didn’t want kids, but he never wanted to hear it,” you added lightly, almost as an afterthought.

His eyes opened, flashing to yours. “Same,” he said rolling his head to kiss at your palm, then, grabbing your hand with his, your wrist. His eyes never left yours.

He pivoted over to lay in between your legs again. He scooped up your face in both his hands, tipping your head back so he could kiss you deeply. You raked your hands down his chest, melting into his touch. When you broke apart, you both sighed. Simon stopped to look down the press of your bodies. Neither of you could ignore his cock anymore as he knocked against you, sliding through the obscene wetness that painted you from your navel to your thighs.

He caught a groan in his throat, closing his eyes at the sight. “Wanna fuck you so bad,” he said in a deep, strangled voice.

You stroked up his ribs soothingly until he opened his eyes to look down at you. You reached down, gently guiding his tip to rest at your entrance. The whole head popped in with no effort, causing him to jut forward with another strangled groan.

“Gonna fuckin’ kill me, y’ know that? Doin’ shit like that. Fuckin’-” He cut himself off as he smashed down you kiss you.

They were hungry, wild kisses, that ate your moans as he rutted himself deeper and deeper inside you. This was so entirely different from the first time you fucked. Different, but good. This wasn’t gentle, or just barely so. There had to be something left of his rational, human, brain still functioning right now as your slick coated his cock, sliding and stretching you open, that knew he had to stop if you showed any sign of pain. But there just wasn’t any pain. It was pure pleasure as his tip nailed that spot with every thrust and his thickness filled you better than anything or anyone ever had before.

He palmed at your hip as he broke away from you again. “Fuckin’ hell, love,” he said shifting just a bit more forward, his balls pressing against your ass. You could have gasped. It was all in. “Y’ fuckin’ did it,” he said proudly.

You smiled a stupid, blissed out smile up at him. The light from the window blinding you as it shone down across your chest and face.

“Had help,” you sighed out, not wanting him to forget all of the hard work he had just done.

He wasn’t one to rest on his laurels, apparently, as he was immediately shifting up on his knees, pulling you with him. He pressed his hand to your stomach, the butt of his palm just above your bikini line with fingers fanned out, reaching up over your belly button. He groaned as he pressed his hand down, slowly rutting into you at the same time, feeling himself inside you.

“Gonna fuck the shit outta y’,” he growled, keeping the same slow pace. He looked down at you. “‘s that what y’ want?”

You nodded, reaching for him. You wanted him wrapped in your arms again, breathing down your neck and kissing you as he gave you everything. He acquiesced to your silent plea, setting you down on the bed before leaning in to let you hold him. He kept one hand on your hip and the other slid up your neck to hold the back of your head. His fingers flexed against your scalp as he pressed in to kiss you. His cock followed right behind, driving into you slowly at first with his pace increasing as you squelched around him.

“Fuck love,” he broke away to say, every one of his thrusts punching out gasps and moans from you, “Doin’ so good f’ me. Such a good girl.”

“Si,” you sighed, head swirling as you clenched around him. You pulled him in to kiss you again. Good girl. It was pressing all the right buttons. His praise was your whole world right now.

“Fuck yeah, y’ like that?” he asked fucking into you at a brutal, even pace. “Like bein’ my good girl?”

“Yes,” you moaned out uncontrollably.

“Know you do,” he said leaning in to nip at your neck, making you gasp. “Not stupid. I feel y’ tighten up when I do. Can feel it right now,” he said slamming forward as you clenched again. “Gonna make yourself cum again if y’ keep doin’ that.”

You shuddered against him. Oh fuck, he was right. Even though he was absolutely railing you as hard as he possibly could, you were still on your way to your third orgasm today. And from what? His voice, just his praise?

He smoothed a hand over your forehead, grounding you. “D’ worry, love. I gotcha. Deserve something good after letting me fuck y’ like this, take this cock so well.”

“Si,” you moaned, brows pushed together, wishing you were like him and could string a coherent sentence together in the middle of sex. “I’m-”

“Close?” he correctly guessed. You nodded. “Want me t’ help?” You nodded again. “Nah, gotta say it, love,” he said in a teasing tone.

“Fuck, Si,” you moaned out, clenching your fingers in his hair as he happened to rut against your clit. “Help me, please. Please touch me.”

He placed a quick kiss across your lips before tearing himself away, leaving you sighing.

“‘s what my girl wants? Play with her pretty pussy so she can cum?” he said moving his hand from your hip to just above your sex.

That sent your head into another galaxy. You threw your head back, covering your mouth to muffle your loud moan from alerting the whole street you were getting the best sex of your life.

“Yes, Si, please,” you pleaded, tears pricking at your eyes.

He didn’t waste anytime. His thumb pressed into your slick, moving up and down your clit to the rhythm of his thrusts. It wasn’t fair, how good he made you feel, let alone how fast he made you cum every time. It also wasn’t fair that now he had rewired your brain, you needed him to say it before you let go.

“Si,” you begged, looking up at him with bleary eyes.

“What?” he said, cocking his head to the side, trying to reason out why you were crying.

“Tell me I can cum,” you whispered, embarrassed and blushing.

“Fuck,” Simon whispered harshly, his hips coming to a sudden stop. The room was filled with the harsh, haggard breathing from both of you. “Y’ fuckin’ serious?” he asked, almost angrily. You nodded, bucking your hips needily up and down his motionless cock, still desperate to cum. He pinned your hips down with both hands, stopping you. “Fuckin’ bust inside if y’ don’t stop that now.” he growled at you, jaw set.

It should have scared you, but your sick brain loved it. A red-hot wire of need plunged through you, quenching with a hiss as it touched every part of your body. The sudden turn from praise to punishment thrilled some dark part of you.

“Fuckin’ can’t even cum on her own. Gotta do it for ‘er,” he said licking his thumb, even though you knew he knew he didn’t need it. It was all for show. His thumb worked you hard and with precision, leaving you a babbling mess against the sheets. “Ready now?” he said rough and uncaring as he looked down at you. “This needy little cunt ready to cum?”

“-yes,” you sighed barely above a whisper.

“Then cum f’ me then,” he said through clenched teeth, his thumb pressing one last hard roll across your clit.

You bowed off the bed, flood gates to every positive emotion opening in your brain. You didn’t even hear yourself scream, though you know you did because Simon was immediately pressing his mouth to yours, saying something about waking the dead. His hands held your hips as you stuttered against his thrusts, wave after wave of pleasure lapping over you. If you’d thought you’d had the best orgasm of your life on Friday, you were dead wrong. This one left everything before in the dust. You felt yourself come back to reality as you lay flushed and sweaty against the sheets, chest heaving.

You looked up when your brain started functioning again. Simon was looking down at you like you were God’s perfect creation, put here just for him. He gently ran his hand up your ribs, nuzzling his nose against yours. You knew it was just the afterglow, but you felt so warm. So safe and protected in his arms. He pressed a light kiss to your lips. Like you would walk through hell to have this heaven with him.

“Not much longer, love,” he said, slowly pumping into you again. “Did fuckin’ good. So fuckin’ good f’ me.”

You nodded weakly at him, content to lay back and let him do as he pleased. He had given you so much already, had worked so hard, waited so long. He grunted and sighed with every slow thrust. You could feel how soft and pliant you were now, giving him everything he wanted.

“Lookit me,” he said suddenly, forcing your eyes up as he curled his hand around the back of your neck again. He leaned in and sighed against your lips. “Wanna cum while ‘m kissing you.”

You clenched, nodding as he pressed his tongue to yours. The thrusts of both his hips and tongue dissolving into slow, languid pumps. His thumb traced your jaw, following the movements of your mouth.

“‘s too fucking good,” he said resting his forehead to yours, eyes shut and breathing ragged.

Memento Mori, you wanted to remind him. All things must pass. To all things, an end. Even this thing: the little death.

He pressed forward again, cock squelching inside you. “Y’ ready?” he asked, having made peace with his impending orgasm while you had been waxing philosophical.

You nodded. He did as he said he wanted, giving you his last desperate thrusts while sucking on your tongue. He pulled from you with a cry, the white ring you’d left around his cock making you clench around nothing as he wrapped his hand around himself, working himself with your slick. He shut his eyes as he released on you, painting stripes up to your neck with every pump. You thought he was going to fall over when he opened his eyes as saw what he’d done to you.

“Fuckin’ beautiful,” he said falling forward onto his hands, including the one covered in cum. He lifted it up almost immediately. “Shit. Sorry.”

You laughed, light and blissful. “‘s okay,” you said borrowing his phrase. “Changing the sheets today, remember?”

He let himself fall down onto the mattress next to you, rolling over onto his back. You watched him close his eyes as a sweet smile took over his face. He turned his face away, but you saw the edges of his mouth curl up, a faint scar above his lip catching in the light. He was so beautiful like this, light shining through his hair in a blonde halo. It made your heart catch. You loved watching him, loved that he was comfortable around you, loved him. You loved him.

Fuck. You pressed a hand to your mouth. No. No. No. No. No. This was not happening. Not with a one night stand, a random guy, a hook up from a club.

But he wasn’t those things, a terrible part of yourself tried to tell you. You’ve spent three days with him. He’s nice. He cares about you. You know him now.

But did you? Did you really? Or were you both just pretending?

Simon broke your train of thought by sitting up, pulling himself across the mattress with his legs.

“Shower?” He offered kindly, standing over you.

“Yeah . . .” you answered awkwardly, sitting up as well. You sat on the edge of the bed for a minute collecting yourself, still shocked from your revelation. Simon was waiting patiently. “You can go if you want,” you told him, brain not fully caught up. You wanted to take back the words as soon as they left your mouth. “Start the shower, I mean!” you said shocked, looking up at him. Oh god, how had you gone so wrong so fast? “Give me a minute. I’ll be in.”

He nodded and walked away without a word. Somehow, that hurt more. You slumped over to rest your head in your hands. You waited to hear the water running before you stood up. It stung where his drying cum pulled at your skin.

Simon was nice in the shower, showing no sign that what you’d said had bothered him. He was content to wash your body for you again, seeming to get some little enjoyment from washing himself from you. He let you step away to wash your hair while he shaved with your borrowed razor. It impressed you how he could do such a good job, not missing any spots, without a mirror. Must be years of practice, years of having to get by while deployed.

You left the shower first, wanting to get get dressed, in real clothes today, before making breakfast. You toweled off your hair while you stood naked in your bedroom, looking between your closet and wardrobe. You really wanted to wear something cute, something impressive to make up for slubbing around all day yesterday in sweats and an oversized t shirt. The problem was that it was still so cold in your apartment.

You leafed through your skirts and pants. Nothing jumped out at you. Your dresses were all too short, or at least you thought until you doubled back to figure out what you had passed that felt so squishy and comfortable. You thought you had put a sweater in the wrong place, but no, it was a slouchy knit dress. You pulled it out and pressed it against your body. It fell to the middle of your thighs. That would work. You quickly threw on your underwear and a pair of tights. The dress, with an extra pair of socks pulled up over your knees, was super warm even as it fell off your shoulders. A set of tiered necklaces completed the look to your satisfaction.

You were putting on your makeup by leaning rather awkwardly against the long mirror in your room, when Simon left the bathroom to collect his clothes. You caught his eye for a second in the mirror before he looked away.

“I’ll wash your clothes for you, if you want,” you offered, pressing your lips together to smooth out your lipgloss. You thought it was a better option than lipstick, considering what happened last time.

He nodded, tossing everything except for his briefs, which he put back on, into the laundry bin. He moved on to your bed next, pulling the sheets and blankets off.

“You’ll have to run down,” he said as the sheets hit the bin with a soft whump. “In no state to be running around like this,” he added, gesturing to his several days old underwear.

You pulled your eyeliner pencil away from your eye just in time to laugh. “Think you’d give the old lady across the hall a heart attack,” you told him returning to finish lining the bottom of your eye.

“The one with the little white dog?” he asked.

You pulled the pencil away again to stare at him in the mirror, which he didn’t meet, then turned to look at him face-to-face. “How . . . when?” you asked. You were pretty sure he had never ran into her.

“Was walkin’ her dog this mornin’ when we were . . . busy on the couch,” he said flatly, clearing his throat and crossing his arms.

You turned away to look at the pencil shaking in your hand. Oh god, no. How fucking embarrassing. You were able to cap it before you threw it into your makeup bag, giving up on finishing that last bit. You decided that you would make breakfast first and then face any of your neighbors that had seen or heard you and Simon for the past three days.

Simon had already left the room. He was pulling a hoodie from where it was doubled inside his coat. He pulled it on over his bare torso, zipping it up before he turned around, phone in his hand. The screen lit his face a cold blue, catching the hollows of his eyes in a macabre way as he stared at it blankly. You decided to not bother him, even as a pit twisted in your stomach, and headed into the kitchen.

You were almost done with the two cheese and spinach omelets when Simon leaned in the kitchen, phone still in hand.

“Your friends’ve been tryin’ t’ contact you. Let ‘em know you’re alive,” he said before clicking it shut.

You slid the omelets onto the waiting plates with a sigh. Simon took them off the counter for you. He sat down to eat, digging right in if you could guess from the fork scraping, while you went to the pocket of your jacket you wore on Friday night to find your abandoned phone. It felt weird that you hadn’t thought all this time to check it, totally absorbed with- You stopped yourself. You dug around and found it eventually. You were lucky it still had battery.

Your eyes widened when you opened your phone. 50 text messages. 10 missed calls. You groaned and wandered back to the table. You threw your phone down next to your cold coffee, deciding to eat before you got into it with your friends.

“Okay?” Simon asked, cutting into his half-finished omelet. Good god, that man could inhale the food. You were already out of eggs because of him.

“I don’t know,” you said breaking off a fluffy corner with your fork, steam, spinach and cheese running out. “I think my friends are overreacting a bit,” you said sliding your phone over to him as you took a bite. You’d done pretty good, if you could pat yourself on the back.

Simon tapped on your screen. A small chuckle escaping from his full mouth as he saw the amount of texts and calls. “Should still let’em know I didn’t kill you,” he said sliding it back to you.

Your eyebrows knit together as you looked at him. “Why-” was all you could get out.

“Soap,” he said stopping to scrape up the last bits of food from his plate, “n’ Gaz’ve been ridin’ my ass about it too.” He put his fork down on his plate, leaning back with a contented sigh. “‘s damn good, love.”

You opened your phone and mentally prepared yourself to open your messages. It felt better, having Simon here with you, for some reason. Only five or so texts were from your friend’s cousin, and they weren’t overly dramatic or pushy. Simple questions scattered over several hours and days. Where did you go? Are you alright? Will you call me back?

You other friend had gone fully nuclear. From early early on Saturday morning to a few hours ago she had sent batches of texts. WHERE ARE YOU????? ARE YOU DEAD? CALL ME NOW. IM CALLING THE POLICE. IF THAT GUY FUCKING HURT YOU I’LL KILL HIM AND HIS FRIENDS. That was followed by several unanswered calls. You covered your face as you scrolled through her one-sided argument she had with herself in your messages.

“I think my friend wants to murder you,” you said looking sheepishly over your phone. Simon shrugged as he sipped his coffee. You began to tap out a simple reply, just so she would know that, yes, you were alive and could chill out, when a call buzzed through. It was her. It scared you too much to pick up on the first ring, but you managed to hit the button with your shaking hands on the second.

“H-” was all you could breath out before your friend let loose in your ear.

“OH MY GOD,” she screamed. You thought you heard feet hit the floor somewhere behind her. “I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD FOR TWO DAYS. TWO. DAYS.”

“I’m okay!” you shouted, trying to get through to her.

“Where are you? Did that guy do anything to you?” you could hear her pacing around her apartment, her kitchen if you could guess by the tile under her feet.

“I’m at my place! Don’t worry!” you said with a huff. I’m an adult. I’m fine. Leave me alone, is what you really wanted to say.

“Did he hurt you?” she asked sternly. You could tell her jaw was clenched.

“No!” you said cutting another piece of your omelet, still very hungry. “I’m not hurt, or dead, or anything. I just want to eat my breakfast! Can I please do that?” you said trying to close the call.

She sighed on the other end. Another voice was talking in the background. The TV? “Okay,” she said, finally deflating her anger. You could hear she was still tapping her foot against the tile though. “But you call me back later, okay? When you can? I want to talk to you. Actually talk.”

You rolled your eyes, agreeing with her, tacking on a quick goodbye before hanging up. You set down your phone and tore into your food before it could go cold. Simon watched you while he sipped on his coffee.

“That went well,” he commented.

“Better than I expected,” you said stabbing at the last few broken chunks of egg. You sighed, tapping the tines of your fork on the plate before you just set it down. “I’ll run your clothes down.”

You managed to run into not one, not two, but three of your neighbors while you ran back and forth washing and drying Simon’s clothes. The college student who lived above you was switching over her wash when you first went down to the basement. She, thankfully, was too absorbed in her phone to notice the obvious men’s clothing you were throwing in the washing machine. The second was the man who lived behind you. He’s a nice guy in his 30’s or 40’s who you’ve talked to once the whole time you’ve lived here. You were walking up the stairs after switching over your load to the dryer while he was on his way down with his own full basket. He asked you if there was a machine open, which you told him there was before bolting to your door. The third, of course, was the old woman with the white dog across the hall. She was leaving with her dog for another walk when you came back with the laundry. She smiled and waved at you, which you returned while trying to keep from turning to dust at the thought of her getting an eye full of Simon fingering you through your open window.

You felt that the longest hour and a half of your life had passed by the time you came back with the cleaned and dried laundry. You just wanted to wrap yourself up in your blanket on the couch and try to forget you had work in the morning, but Simon had tasks for you. And, you remembered, you had promised him you would get everything done.

Not that he had been idle while you were out. Simon had done the cleaning and tidying you had pushed off all week: the blankets were folded on your couch, your shoes were put away in the front hall, your books had been restacked in the window. He was mopping when you came in the door with the laundry basket. He had picked you up in the hall, basket and all, and brought you over the wet part of the floor, sweetly setting you in your bedroom. You were surprised to see Simon had put the fresh set of sheets on the bed and made it up as well.

You sat down on the side of your freshly made bed to fold your clothes and tried not to stare at him while he dressed. He sat down at the foot of the bed when he was done. The space in between the two of you was filled with a pyramid of balled up socks, piles of underwear, and a growing stack of clothes to hang.

“Need help?” he asked, trying to sit casually. His fingers were tapping nervously on the inside of his knee. He really did need something to keep his mind busy. “Got everything else done.”

“Thanks for that,” you said folding a t shirt. You threw it on the t shirt pile after you were done. You looked over your bins of laundry and piles on your bed with a sigh. “Just this is left.”

“And it’s almost two,” he said looking at his phone for the time. Before you could say anything he had already put together a plan. “You fold,” he insisted. “Just show me where it all goes and I’ll put away.”

“I really should make a little lunch. I didn’t realize how late it was getting.” The word late haunted you as soon as you said it. The clock was ticking ticking ticking now. Stop, you told yourself. You stood up and pulled out the top drawer of your dresser to show him what was inside. “This is underwear, socks, and . . . stuff,” you said floundering your hand at the miscellaneous tights and underthings you crammed in that drawer. “Just get started on that and I’ll make lunch.”

“Copy,” he said with a nod.

Lunch was nothing special. You gave Simon the last piece of reheated lasagna and you made a salad with whatever vegetables you had left in the fridge on top of what was left of your mixed greens. He had gotten most of the clothes put away in that drawer by the time you called him over. It was another silent meal. You both spent the time watching the rain pick up. The sun was falling fast behind the gray clouds. For every bit of light you lost, your heart sank.

Simon, of course, insisted on doing the dishes again when you finished. You went back to folding, finishing the bins before he got back. It felt like he had taken longer than before, but you couldn’t find a reason to care. He went right back to loading your socks into the drawer, holding near five pairs at a time in his hand while doing so. You could have stood there and stared at his hands for the rest of the afternoon, but you shook your head and got back to work. You busied yourself with hanging things in your wardrobe. You felt that maybe, if you mostly had your back turned to him, he wouldn’t distract you and you would slowly stop thinking about him. Then, when the time came, it would be easier.

“You read all those books you have in the window?” he asked while delicately layering your panties in the drawer.

“Ah, yeah,” you answered, staring at the inside of your wardrobe, unsure how much of a conversation he wanted to start. “It’s what I do in my freetime.”

“Read and cook,” he stated flatly.

“I know,” you said with a little laugh, “I have a very exciting life.”

“What’s the last one you read?” he asked, opening the next drawer. It was filled with t shirts and pj’s.

You bit your lip. “The one on top,” you said trying not to sound boring, because you knew exactly what you favorite book looked like: it’s black paperback cover beat and bent until the white paper underneath was showing through, it’s pages dog-eared, highlighted and re-highlighted, your own comments penciled in the margins.

“Meditations?” he said, surprising you that he remembered the title.

“Yeah, more like re-read, though. Not sure if that counts,” you said turning to collect the last armful of clothes to hang. Simon caught your eye as he closed the drawer. Amazing how he could pin you with his eyes even crouched on the floor. He stood up. It felt so weird to see him in clothes at this point. He felt so much bigger and taller.

“Suppose that’s up to you, book-reader,” he answered lightly ribbing you. His eyes were raking over you again. You turned around and quickly hung up what you had in your hands, not really caring if it was in the right spot. You just didn’t want him to see you blushing.

“Work’s done!” you said, trying to sound happy, as you turned back to face him.

Simon didn’t look happy. He’d crossed his arms over his chest, looking so much wider with the hoodie on. His face was hard and neutral, but there was a silent, dour energy to his eyes as they flicked from the floor to your face. He nodded, his head wandering to look over his shoulder to the door.

“Nothing left to do, and it’s gettin’ late,” he said, eyes still on the door. “Rainin’ too.”

You inhaled sharply. Oh. Oh no. Oh this was happening now.

“Yeah,” you answered weakly, heart beating hard, “I have-”

“Work in the morning?” he completed your sentence for you, shuffling his phone in his back pocket, looking behind himself. You nodded, watching him swallow hard.

“Early,” you whispered.

You felt your blood slow, pooling in your feet, pounding ominous and slow in your ears. No. This was not happening already. No, no, no, no, no- You concentrate on your fingernails digging into your palm and it breaks you out of your spiral. You watch your hand gesture for him to lead you out of the bedroom. It’s your arm, but not your action.

A gust of wind drove a spatter of rain against your window as you walk behind him through the living room. Darkness had fully fallen, the street lights pouring down their fuzzy yellow light once again. You keep it together while he kneels to lace up his boots. You couldn’t be messy and clingy right now, not after how well you’ve done all weekend. You can’t break down babbling about how much you love him and want him to stay, please stay if you want, please you’ve never felt like this about anyone else before and it makes you want to cry.

He stood there staring at you as he zipped up his jacket. It was a quick, sudden sound. Something that had sounded so much like an exciting new beginning, of taking off the layers that separated your warm skin from each other, of breaking down and rebuilding three days ago now sounds like only one thing: Finality. Packed up. Put away. Done.

You wondered if you should say something, anything as his hand closed around the doorknob, but you don’t.

“Bye,” he said with a nod, turning the handle.

“Bye,” you said back with a shiver. You wrapped your arms around yourself for warmth. As he stepped into the hallway you added, “Stay safe.”

He nodded again, not looking back, as your heavy metal door slammed closed behind him. You reached out on instinct to click it the last bit closed. You felt the vibrations in your hand as the outer door did the same. And with that, he was gone.

Gone.

You fell forward into the door, cold metal sending goosebumps up your arms. The cold shock as you press your forehead to the door temporarily keeps your tears at bay. You close your eyes as you let out a shaking breath. This is . . . fine. You’ll be okay, you lie to yourself. You let out the breath and open your eyes. You watch your tears spatter against the clean floor until your vision blurs.

You should feel pathetic as your knees hit the floor. You’re practically begging here, crying in front of your door, wishing and waiting for him to come back. You want him to walk back in the door, sweep you up in his strong arms, kissing away your tears and murmuring apology after apology. You cover your face as you let out a sob. You want to curl under the blankets on the couch with him. You want to chase him out of the kitchen while you cook again. You want to share the same stream of water in the shower. You don’t even try to wipe your tears away as you fall back against the wall, head thunking against the plaster. You just want to fall asleep to the sound of his breathing, to the rhythm of his heart beat, warm and protected in his arms.

But that’s never going to happen again. He’s left. No number. Just gone. Just a name.

He’s gone.

a/n: WOW OKAY IM SORRY FOR MAKING IT SAD. I honestly had this all planned before . . . you know what happened ;_; Watch out for a poll about chapter three in a day or two!

#starry writes #mw2 #ghost/reader #call of duty #cod fanfic #cod mw2 #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #yes i've made reader's life just so fucking sad take my computer away from me please

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levi-venn · 3 months

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The First Toothpick

Chapter 1: The Kid

Gen Fic - Mentor/Protege

Characters: Cad Bane, Jango Fett, Crosshair (the kid).

Summary: Cad Bane teaches Crosshair how to be a sniper. The kid picks up some other habits as a result.

Chapters: Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5 | Ch 6 | Ch7 | Ch8 | Ch9 (Coming soon)

Available on AO3 here

Cad Bane will do any job...for a price.

But, there was a time when he’d do anything for Jango Fett for free.

Those days are long gone.

The last time Cad saw Jango was on Nar Shaddaa; some seedy dive cantina where blaster bolts and blood flowed as freely as the cheap liquor.

It was over their second pitcher of shitty beer that Jango told Cad he was leaving bounty hunting, the greater galaxy, leaving everything behind.

He said something about a classified government assignment with a big payout.

All Cad heard was that Jango was leaving him behind.

“Kraytspit, boss,” Cad snarled, shoving an index into that armored chest. “You taught me ‘Fuck the Establishment’ and now what, you’re joinin' some government program? Just like that? Fuck you." And then Cad said words that Jango taught him, "And fuck The Man."

The argument got heated. Glass shattered. Fists brandished. Blasters were never drawn, but a spattering of Cad and Jango’s blood was added to the cantina’s décor.

That was years ago, but it wasn’t ancient history.

Not to Cad.

Now Jango’s got the balls to send me a message after all this time? Using words like “personal favor” and “old friend"?

Cad should’ve told him to swallow a cactus.

Instead he set a course for Kamino.

You’re gettin’ soft, nerfpoke, he chided himself. Then again, never did have a clear head where Jango was concerned, did ya?

The Justifier’s ramp clanged against the disc platform outside the Kaminoan Facility and the knot in Cad’s stomach tightened. He wasn't ready to see Jango again, no matter how quickly he punched those coordinates in. Yet, there he was, a dark silhouette at the end of the bridge.

Waiting for him.

The storm roared its unwelcoming song as he approached his former mentor. With every step, raging winds threatened to toss him into the inky, frothing ocean below like an angry gambler swiping a losing hand off a sabacc table. He clicked his heels, activating the magnetic sensors on his boots and he pale-knuckled the wide brim of his hat and walked across the bridge.

His swagger never wavered.

It never does.

Cad gritted his fangs as the barrage of rain needled his skin anywhere his duster and hat couldn’t protect. Jango, meanwhile, was bone dry, leaning against the wall under the lip of the facility's domed roof, arms folded across his armored chest. His helmet obscured his face, but Cad could feel the sly smile behind that reflective T-visor. He always did give Cad shit for not handling the cold too well.

In fact, Cad didn’t know what a “season” was when he left - escaped - the temperate climate of Duro. Didn’t take him long to figure out he kriffin’ hated “monsoon season” and “winter” the most.

“Long time,” Cad said, refusing to stammer as the icy wind clung to his bones.

“Didn’t have to be. You know that,” Jango said, the soft, stern tone apparent through the vocoder. “I told you then I wanted you to join me here.”

“And I told you where to stick it. Whole point of being a freelancer is the ‘free’ part, Fett. What kind of life are you living here?”

“I didn’t ask you here to lecture me on what freedom is, Cad. You’re here for a job.”

“What’s the catch?” Cad asked.

“No catch. You’re the best and that’s what I need.”

Cad smirked. “Flattery don’t work so well on me.”

“No? That’s funny, used to be the only way I could get you to do anything.” Jango removed his helmet, and that disarming grin unraveled the knot in Cad’s gut far too quickly. “Times have changed, I guess.”

“A lot’s changed,” Cad said, stubbornly.

That kriffin’ charismatic smile hasn't changed, has it? It could still ask Cad to do anything. If Jango jumped into a Sarlaac Pit, Cad would do a swan dive right after him.

But those days are over…weren’t they?

Jango punched the control panel beside him and the door opened to a brightly lit corridor. Cad refused to hurry as he walked into the facility, shaking off the rain from his hat and duster with an annoyed scoff.

“Nice digs,” he said, popping a toothpick in his mouth. “Blinding white is really your color.”

“Hey, thanks,” Jango said, not taking the bait. “I keep telling the Kaminoans to add a few potted plants, maybe a Max Reebo poster or two, but they never listen.”

Despite Cad’s desire to keep his head down as the intense lights assaulted his retinas, he still stole glances at his former mentor as they walked.

Mentor…

...Former starsdamn hero…

...Jango got old.

Cad hated the way humans aged, always wearing their mortality on their sleeves. Wrinkled skin, graying hair, even their voices waned and cracked like a mud puddle drying in the summer sun. Jango only had a few laugh lines, crow's feet, a little silver in his hair, but to Cad it was broadcasted that Jango was getting old.

...and so was he.

Still, none of these aged additions bothered him nearly as much as the change in Jango’s eyes.

They glittered with warmth. With happiness. Comfort.

“You look tired,” Cad mumbled the lie.

Fuck him for being happy without Cad.

“You worried about me, Bane?” Jango teased.

“Just saying, if you’re here to beg me to rescue you, we’re going the wrong way.” He jerked his long thumb behind him. “Ship’s that way.”

“Believe it or not, I’m good here.”

“Sure,” Cad sneered. “You always did talk about retiring in a sterile medical facility surrounded by violent storms.”

“I have a son, Cad,” Jango said, in an infuriatingly light tone.

Cad froze. The toothpick broke in two between his fanged teeth. He spat it out onto the pristine floor. “The fuck are you talking about?”

“The Kaminoans here contracted me for a classified assignment. I told them I wouldn’t do it for less than a krayt-sized hoard of credits and a son created with my DNA.”

Cad shook his head in disbelief. “So you’re raising a little you, then?”

Jango shook his head. “I don’t see it that way. Boba does seem to have the best parts of me, but it’s not by design. He’s just a genuinely good kid. I don’t know how that’s possible. I was a little hellion.”

So was Cad. He wasn't that much younger than Jango when the Mando took him under his wing, but Cad felt like a bumbling kid and twice as stubborn as a reek.

“Cad, you gotta relax or you’ll miss your target every time,” Jango says. It was the fifth time he said this. It was the tenth bottle Cad had missed.

Jango’s tone never changes, though. Always a little gruff. Always a little gentle. Unwaveringly insistent.

"I’m calm, boss!” The duros snarled, his hat sinking slightly over bulbous red eyes.

“Oh yeah.” Jango snorted. “You sound real calm.” He placed a warm hand on Cad’s bony shoulder. “It’s okay to be nervous. And I’m not just talking about here and now, shooting bottles off a fence. I’m talking about life in general. It’s okay to be scared. Just don’t let your brain dictate what those hands are going to do.” Jango tapped his temple, then held up a calm hand. “Screaming mind. Cool hand. You master that and you’ll be unstoppable. Now take a deep breath, aim, exhale, and squeeze that trigger.”

“Maybe you just needed a patient mentor,” Cad mumbled.

“I heard your old boss was really patient,” Jango said.

Cad’s heart sank and he gave a little shrug, something he hadn’t done since before he added the “Bane” to his name.

“I missed you, too, Cad.”

“Fuck you,” Cad grumbled, but there was no bite to the words.

Jango led Cad through a complex labyrinth that was damn impossible to navigate.

“Is there anything you can tell me about what you’re doing here?” Cad asked, feeling like he’s walking through the gullet of some angelic serpent. “Kaminoans are cloners, I know that much. So…they’re cloning you? A lot?”

“Yes,” Jango said.

“And they grew you a son.”

“Yes.”

Cad rankled. “How many of ‘you’ are they making?”

“That’s classified.”

“Are they making mercenaries?”

Jango thought for a moment. “More organized than that.”

“Soldiers, then. For who?”

“That’s classified.”

“You’re really okay with them using your face, and your everything, to make soldiers?”

“Like I said, the pay is insane and I have a son.” Jango flashed him a smirk. “If you join me here, I’ll tell you everything in excruciating detail, including why I wanted to stay.”

“Never,” Cad growled, gut twisting again.

Jango’s easy smile slid off his face, his eyes lingering as if only now he realized Cad would never change his mind.

Cad couldn’t bear looking at Jango like this. “Just tell me about the job.”

“Alright.”

Jango pressed a control panel in an alcove Cad hadn’t noticed moments before. The wall slid open to an observation deck overlooking an artificial combat zone made to look like a war-torn village. Plenty of places to hide, plenty more blind spots. Dangerous and advantageous for a sniper that knew what they were doing.

“The facility has designed a squad of experimental clones, trained to be elite combatants. One of them is designed to be a sniper. I want you to train him.”

In the center of the village was a lone tower. Combat droids were starting to swarm around it.

“You can’t train him yourself? You’re the one who taught me how to shoot.” Cad noticed a silhouette move around atop the tower, a sniper blaster rifle peeking its muzzle out like the snout of a curious creature, then withdrawing again. No shot was fired.

Hesitation.

Not good.

“I did, but we both know you can shoot rings around me when it comes to a sniper blaster rifle. I wouldn’t trust this assignment to anyone but you.”

“I ain’t a teacher,” Cad pressed.

“He doesn’t need one. He needs…” Jango thought for a moment. “A role-model.”

Cad laughed and popped another toothpick in his mouth. “Oh yeah, I’m a real upstanding citizen.”

“See? I knew I could count on you.”

Cad rolled his eyes. “So who is this grunt?”

“CT-9904.”

Cad frowned. "That ain’t a name.”

“It’s his designation. It’s what they use here.”

Cad lifted the brim of his hat, watching the blaster rifle peek out again and fire a blast.

A droid went down.

The muzzle poked out another hole.

Two blaster bolts fired, two droids fall.

Every shot fired found it's mark, but it wasn't enough to thin out the herd of droids.

“He’s got a good eye, but he’s taking too long to take those shots,” Cad observed.

“Remind you of anyone?” Jango asked.

“Take the shot, Cad.”

“I will! I just need to-”

An air horn blared beside Cad’s ear. The blaster bolt hit the tree, several feet above the target.

“What the fuck, boss?!”

Jango tossed the air horn cheekily in the air. “Stop hesitating. Take the shot or don’t, but this lollygagging isn't going to save your skin on a hunt.”

“Fine…just stop firing that damn airhorn.”

“Alright, alright. Here," Jango tucked the air horn in his belt and held up his empty hands. "I’m done with it. Take the shot whenever you’re ready.”

Cad lined his shot up again. But…

…What if he misses?

What if he’ll never be good at this? Not like Jango.

Jango was perf-

The airhorn bellows overhead. Cad nearly drops the rifle.

“Jango!!”

“C’mon, do you think your bounty will stop firing at you if you ask nicely? Work through the distractions. Ignore the voice filling your head with thoughts of failure. We’re out here until you land ten hits on that target. This is non-negotiable. And you better hurry, that storm’s getting closer by the minute.”

Cad’s rifle shook, already feeling the bitter wind attacking his senses.

“You got this, Cad…” Jango said, nudging Jango’s elbows, gently reminding him to keep them close to his body. “...I wouldn’t be teaching you if I didn’t believe in your greatness.”

CT-9904 managed to take down a dozen droid, but two dozen more were climbing the tower. The blaster rifle’s muzzle poked in and out of the slits in the tower too quickly to be effective. He was panicking.

Jango pressed a button on the control panel.

“Simulation Over .” The droids powered down, falling off the tower into heaps on the tile floor.

“CT-9904,” Jango called through the comm. “Report to Control.”

Cad braced himself to see a copy of Jango emerge from the tower. Would he act like Jango? Would he have Jango’s memories? Jango knew Cad better than any humanoid alive...would this clone, too?

The answer came in a resounding "No" in the shape of a skinny kid with a shock of white hair dressed in a blue and red jumpsuit. He slid down the ladder, hopping lightly over the droid bodies, and bounding towards the lift.

“Dank farrik, Jango. You’re making kid soldiers here?”

“It’s more complicated than that,” Jango replied.

“Complicated how?”

“I bet you can get what I'm going to say”

“Classified. Right.”

The door slid open and the kid peeked in before entering the room, his eyes narrowing at the sight of the Duros.

Despite being Duros, Cad had spent most of his adult life around a variety of humanoids, most of them human. Cad could’ve picked this kid out of a lineup as Jango’s spawn, but…he didn’t look like a copy.

Experimental clones…right.

“CT-9904 is part of a special operation of elite warriors. He’s our finest sniper.”

“The best sniper in the facility,” the kid said, with a voice surprisingly raspy, like he smoked a pack of deathsticks before coming up here. The kid's sarcasm came through loud and clear though, like he had heard others call him the best sniper in the facility.

Doesn't mean he believes it himself.

The kid kept his eyes lowered, one fist clenched, the other white knuckling the strap of his sniper rifle, a version of the 773 Firepuncher augmented to accommodate for this scrawny child.

None of this felt right.

But this was a job, and…it was at Jango’s request.

“You’re welcome to any training room here. Any weapons you need are at your disposal. Droids too.”

Cad shook his head. “No.”

The kid and Jango both looked up at Cad with the same confusion.

“No?” Jango asked.

“Not going to train him here. You want me to show him the ropes, he’s gotta have a taste of what the galaxy is like out there.”

“He can’t leave the facility.”

The kid looked up at Jango, his eyes wide and round, maybe out of fear...

Or maybe he's hoping to get out and see the galaxy for a change.

“Says who?” Cad challenged.

“Says…uh...fuck…I don’t know, Cad. He’s property of the facility.”

Cad rankled.

Property? Who the fuck is Jango anymore?

Cad took his toothpick out to point at Jango emphatically. “Those are my terms, take ‘em or find yourself another sniper with skills as good as mine.” He flicked the toothpick against Jango's armor. It plinked musically before hitting the ground. “Good luck with that," he sneered.

The kid was now looking up at Cad with those large, owl-like eyes, but they were joined by a sneer of his own.

Jango sighed. “Fine. You’ll be compensated for any credits you spend, just…don’t take him to the Canto Bight race tracks, okay? I want daily reports. You return him when I say it's time to come back.”

"You have my word," Cad said. And he meant it.

The kid looked up at Jango. “Can I say bye to Tech first?”

Jango ignored the request. “Thanks for doing this, Cad.”

“I’m doing it for the credits.”

Jango sighed. “Don’t hold back on him. He can handle whatever you throw at him.”

“You never pulled punches,” Cad said, dryly. “Don’t reckon I would either.”

“I can handle it,” the raspy kid echoed, throwing Cad a dangerous look unlike worn by Jango's face.

But Cad knew that look all too well: The look of a frightened predator.

#the bad batch #star wars the clone wars #clone wars #cad bane #jango fett #bad batch crosshair #The First Toothpick

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wardenparker · 2 years

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You’re So Vain - Chapter 5

Dieter Bravo x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Oscar winning star Dieter Bravo’s reputation is suffering after the debacle of “Cliff Beasts 6″ and “Beasts of the Bubble”, so his management team has signed him on to a publicity stunt to find his soulmate and show the world a softer side of the erratic and unpredictable star. The plan quickly go awry, though, when Dieter’s soulmate wants nothing to do with him.

Rating: Teen. But this blog is *always* 18+ Word Count: 7.7k Warnings: *Blanket warning for chronic illness, cursing, and deceased family members. This is a Dieter fic, folks, so there absolutely will be discussions of drugs, drug use, and addiction.* Enemies to lovers, fake dating, alcohol consumption. Summary: On your third date with Dieter, Libby insists that you post a kiss on social media. Notes: Sorry for being a little late with this chapter today guys, chronic illness is a bitch. Thanks for reading!

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4

It’s rare that Nora goes to daycare this summer, but today Steph is getting ready for work at the same time you’re getting ready for your dreaded third date with Dieter. Luckily Libby didn’t seem to know about the way the last date ended and she was nothing but cheery on the phone two days ago. Disney, she had told you in that voice that said there was more than just the Happiest Place on Earth in store for you. The dreaded part of this date comes in the form of your mandatory display of affection: a kiss in front of the iconic castle that will be posted all over his social media and the Mate Marks ad campaign. The last thing in the world you want to do is kiss him, but as Steph has pointed out: you’re getting a day at Disney out of it. Hopefully that will be some kind of comfort when you’re compulsively brushing your teeth later tonight.

“Why do I have to pick her up?” It’s been weeks since he’s seen you and honestly, it’s probably better that way. He kind of feels like a jackass for what he said but he also doesn’t believe that pathetic excuse for an apology was good enough either. Libby sighs - a long suffering sound that makes Dieter almost believe that he might get his way. Until she answers him. “Because you two need to ride together, Dee. You can’t show up at Disneyland in different cars. Just— the last date went well. Pick her up, enjoy the park, kiss her, and bring her home.” She tells him sternly, already having dealt with him whining about wanting to smoke weed again. “Fine.” He rolls his eyes and grabs his keys off the counter. “This better work. Because I’d rather give myself a circumcision than fucking deal with more insults.” He huffs.

******

You got antsy waiting for it to be time and ended up volunteering to get Nora loaded into her car seat to help Steph out. She's fighting you on it today, asking over and over why she can't spend the day with you, and you're so close to calling and asking to postpone the start of the day when Dieter's car pulls into the driveway.

Dieter anticipated staying in the car, but he could hear the little girl’s loud protests and see the flailing limbs from the driver’s seat. Climbing out, he walks over to the shiny SUV, hooks his arm over the door and peers in the space between it and the car’s frame. “Hey, squirt.”

"Deedee!" Nora practically screeches, propelling herself out of her car seat yet again to grab for a hug. "Deedee tell Auntie Gigi that is 'sokay for me to stay home today!"

He grins and reaches out to hug her, looking around and giving the little girl a shrug. “You gonna stay home all alone?” He asks. “Momma’s gotta work and Gigi’s gotta go do boring adult stuff.” He rolls his eyes playfully like going to Disney is the worst. Not that she knows that’s where you’re going.

"How boring?" She asks, as though she's suspicious that he could ever be involved in something boring. The only times she's ever seen him, something big and cool always happens like her mother getting a big, new, shiny car.

“Reallllllllly boring.” Dieter huffs, giving the little girl a great big pout. “Boring enough that she probably wants to go with you to play with your friends.” He had no doubt you would rather be with Nora than with him, so he’s not lying.

"I'll be back tonight, sweetie." You promise her, hoping you can just get her to settle down long enough to get her buckled in before Steph comes out of the house. "You always have so much fun at day care, I know you're going to have so much fun with your friends." It's neither here nor there that you would much rather be at home with her like any other normal day.

“I wanna go with you!” She huffs, trying to throw off her straps. Frowning and on the verge of a meltdown.

Dieter raises a brow and smirks as you blow out an exasperated breath. “Tell you what, squirt.” He grabs her attention, apparently the nickname tickles her. “If you are good for your Gigi and go to day care with your friends like a good girl, I’ll make sure you get a treat tonight when Gigi comes home. Whadya say?”

Bribery isn't necessarily your favourite tactic with Nora, but she seems intrigued by the offer and it might be the only way to avoid a full meltdown, so you don't argue the point while she considers. Her little mouth is set in a pout but she definitely understands the concept of bargaining better than the average four-year-old. "'Kay," she agrees finally, flopping backward and allowing you to finally buckle her in safely.

“’Kay.” Dieter sasses her with a wink that makes her giggle. Happy that at least one of the women in his life is happy with him. He likes her, even if he’s only met her twice. She’s a cool little kid and he vibes with that.

"Dieter!" Steph comes outside a second later, smiling and looking relaxed since you were the one who wrestled with her willful little minion today instead of her. "How are you, honey?" She knows all of what happened at the concert, but she has also made it known that your apology was fairly half-assed in her opinion, and she's decided that Dieter Bravo is okay in her book. At least unless he does something truly horrific - but she doesn't think that's very likely to occur considering how kind he's been to her and Nora.

“Hey sweetheart.” Dieter comes over and gives Stephanie a hug. “I’m doing alright, how’s everything here?” He would ask you, but he doesn’t want to. He would rather talk to someone who actually likes him.

"Everything's really good." She's all smiles this morning, clutching the travel mug of coffee in her hand. "My folks are coming down for a visit next week to see their grandbaby for her birthday so we're just cleaning the house and getting the guest room ready. It will be nice to see them."

“That’s good.” Dieter nods and looks over at Nora. “Birthday, huh?” He asks, sending her another wink. “What are you asking for?”

"Shoes that light up!" Nora tells him excitedly, swinging her feet now that she's secure in her seat. "And a cowgirl hat. I wanna wear them every day in kin-dee-garters."

He nods seriously. “As you should.” He tells her sagely. “That would be really cool.”

"She's excited for big girl school," Steph laughs. "I can't believe she's already old enough for kindergarten." With a shake of her head and a shrug of her shoulder, Steph leans in to give Dieter another hug. "Say goodbye to Deedee and Aunt Gigi, Nora. We gotta go."

"Bye-bye Deedee!" She crows, all waves and with every ounce of sadness she had felt just minutes ago completely gone. "Bye-bye Auntie Gigi!"

“Bye, sweetie." You lean into the car to give her a kiss before backing up again, waving as Steph double checks her seat and shuts the door to hop behind the wheel.

Dieter waves to Nora and gives her a big thumbs up as they back out of the driveway. Once they are driving away, the smile slides off his face and he turns to walk back to his car.

"Hi." It takes all your strength not to roll your eyes or grumble at him as you quickly swipe up the ridiculous, white sequined Minnie Mouse backpack that Libby sent for you to use today. It arrived with matching white sequined sneakers and a flowy tank top and shorts that will show off every single bit of the ink that Dieter has put on your skin over the years.

“Hey.” His own response is flat, and he lifts a brow at your outfit. Happy that Libby hadn’t dressed him for going to fucking Disney. He had gotten to wear what he wanted. A pair of his plaid shorts and a plain t-shirt with a hat. The only thing she had argued with him on was his crocs, so he was wearing Converse sneakers instead. “Ready?” He asks, opening the car door.

“There’s something I want to say before we go.” Standing there clutching that stupid little backpack makes you feel juvenile, but you don’t want to wait and say this in the middle of a crowded amusement park just in case it goes badly. The last thing you need is another too-public humiliation. You don’t huff, or sigh, or grumble - just square your shoulders and hold your chin up high. Be a goddamn adult about it, you remind yourself. “I’m sorry. I passed judgement on something I knew nothing about, and that was as unfair to you as it was unkind. Even if your tattoos had nothing to do with a family member that passed, I still should have asked instead of assuming.” The last couple of weeks have been filled with a lot of introspection and a lot of Steph lovingly kicking your ass as you kicked hers right back, but you hadn’t told Libby that you planned to apologize. Only promising her that you would be on your best behavior because you really can’t predict Dieter’s reactions. “I can’t undo what I’ve said, but I am apologizing for it and telling you that I’m going to do better.” Ultimately, your bullshit is your own. He won’t be in your life anymore after a few more of these dates, but one day you’re going to have to look Nora in the eye and tell her it’s time to be the bigger person or apologize for doing something wrong, and you can’t rightfully do that if you can’t do it yourself.

Dieter feels himself freeze in shock. They are words he never expected to hear from you. Sure, you have that immediate little apology when he slapped you with the truth, but he hadn’t expected you to actually acknowledge what you had done. “Um, thank you.” He clears his throat and looks over towards the house for a second before he looks back at you. Actually meets your eyes. “I’m sorry for embarrassing you. I just— I was angry and hurt.” He shakes his head and sighs. “But it wasn’t right either, and I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted. Thank you.” It’s awkward - it’s very awkward - but you put your hands out to do what Steph suggested. After you apologize, give him a hug. It’s not like you’ve never touched him before, it’s just never been willingly.

Now he’s wondering what the hell is going on. Eyeing you warily, he doesn’t see a knife or an ice pick in your hands and Dieter is enough of a secret affection whore that he’s stepping closer to you. Reaching out and accepting the hug.

It only lasts a second or two, but it's still there, and it doesn't instantly cause you psychic damage or whatever like those games that your brother used to play. "Okay, um...ready to go?"

“Disney, here we come.” Dieter says, only being a little sarcastic. “A least Nora didn’t find out that’s where we’re going.”

"She would have rioted," you laugh, getting into the car. "Daycare can never compare to the magic of Disney."

“Of course it can’t.” Dieter chuckles. “Steph sent me a picture of her first time. Looked like she was in love with it.”

"She was." Once you're both in the car, he wastes no time backing out of your driveway and heading back out to the highway. The half hour drive to Anaheim should fly by if you can keep your resolve to behave. "She has added princess to her list of future careers, right under cowgirl and fairy."

“Solid job considerations.” Dieter jokes, merging with traffic smoothly. “Children should always be encouraged to explore their passions.”

"Right now the sky is the limit for her in terms of dreams. It's just getting her health under control so that nothing else will stand in her way." She's doing better, at least, and hasn't had to go to the hospital in two whole months which is an extreme improvement over the beginning of the year.

“Yeah.” Dieter frowns, wondering what would be down the line for her. He may have read some articles on her disease. Just out of curiosity. “Hopefully that happens.”

"She's doing better." He sounds concerned, and that actually shouldn't surprise you considering he's said how much he likes kids. "No unscheduled hospital trips in two months, and her doctor nailed down the dosage for her medicine. So...good things are on the horizons."

“That’s great.” He drums his fingers on the steering wheel. “I’ve heard there some great clinics in Spain and Istanbul.”

"Yeah." You and Steph had done endless reading on all the best doctors and clinics all over the world for pediatric medicine, trying to see if anyone seemed to know anything about the mysterious symptoms not connected to Nora's main diagnosis, but those were just a pipe dream. "But even debt free, those are...they're hard to get her seen at. For now, we're just glad that she's doing better."

“I can agree with that.” Dieter doesn’t know what he would do if someone he cares about was chronically ill. “Hopefully one day they figure out everything.”

"That's the hope." Sitting back in the seat, you watch the highway roll by out your window and try to relax a little in your seat. "Have you, um...have you heard anything about that movie in Switzerland?" He had mentioned it at the concert and Libby mentioned it to you once. The way she was talking, it was something very big deal. Something he wanted.

Dieter nods. “I got it.” He is happy that he did, looking forward to going back there again and revisiting some of his favorite places. “Filming for four weeks.” He spots the Anaheim exit for Disney and slides into the exit lane.

“That’s good.” It seems like a short amount of time to film a movie, but honestly what the hell do you know about filming movies? He probably has more to do when he gets back to California. “Can I ask…um, what’s special about Switzerland? Libby made it sound like your favorite place in the world.”

Dieter looks over at you and gives you small grin before looking back at the road. “My mom was Swiss.” He announces. “It was something we always wanted to do, go visit. Danica and I.” He sighs. “I— after she, uh, you know – filming in Switzerland saved my life. Or being able to go wander through Hans Holbein’s works saved me.” He gives a nonchalant shrug; almost afraid you will have something critical to say.

“So you do like portraiture.” It’s definitely not what you were expecting him to say at all, honestly you don’t really know what you were expecting him to say, but it’s unexpected all the same. “There’s this painting he did of Lais of Corinth that is just mesmerizing…I’ve tried to paint myself in that pose so many times. She’s wearing the same gown as Venus in his portrait of Venus and Amor and I just…I swear if I had all the money in the world I would get married in a reproduction of it or something. It’s all just gorgeous.”

“It’s a memorizing piece.” Dieter agrees. “Even more stunning in person.”

“You’ve seen her?” It may be the first time you’ve ever envied him, and you’re sure the look of awe on your face says so.

“I spent hours staring at her.” He nods, not mentioning that he was so fucking high at the time that it was ridiculous. “Every day I would sit with her. Absorbing everything I could from her.”

“Wow…” Slumped in your seat a little, you nearly laugh at the irony of someone you consider having no taste also loving one of your favorite paintings. “Well…if you see her again while you’re there, give her my regards.”

“I will.” Dieter follows the signs for parking, between the lines of others rushing to get to the park. “I figure I will go and visit before I even go to set. She knows a lot of my secrets from back then.”

You have no doubt that he has plenty of secrets, but part of your promise to yourself to do better is to not point that out. “Libby asked me to start an Instagram today,” you tell him as he parks the car, holding your phone tight in one hand. “She, uh…she wants me to use it all day. And I guess at the next thing we’re used to go to. Somebody’s birthday party?”

“Yeah.” Dieter rolls his eyes and snorts. “It’s just going to be a large party of Hollywood. Drugs, sex and actors.” Although he’s been told he can’t have anything but booze.

“I’ll stick to booze.” Anything else just isn’t in your wheelhouse anymore and you refocus your attention on your phone to open the Instagram app that you downloaded last night but haven’t touched yet. Since you don’t have any other social media you don’t have a standard handle of any kind so you just sort of stare blankly for longer than you’re proud of.

“I have to as well.” He rolls his eyes and huffs as he pulls into a parking spot. Turning the car off, he looks over at you. “Have you figured it out?”

“Not really.” Steph had suggested that you ask him for help when you asked her last night and that had made you grumpy for about an hour before you decided to throw up your hands and go to bed because it was midnight. “I need a name first, I guess?”

Dieter hums, unbuckling his seatbelt. “Something to do with your art.” He suggests. “RenaissanceArtTeacher or some shit.” He chuckles. “Impressionist101.”

“Something like ImpressionistAuntie is probably too dumb, right?” It’s two fundamental pieces of your personality - your art and your role as an aunt - but you’re no good at what Libby so firmly calls branding.

“Nah it’s perfect.” Dieter tells you over the hood of the car as he closes the door. “It’s your account, it should be reflective of who you are. Art is at the core, and I know you love your niece.”

It’s surprising how easily the chatting becomes when you’re not both clawing your way down each other’s throats, but you push that thought away to focus on your phone again. Once your account is created you snap a picture of the Park gates for your very first post.

The tickets are already purchased. Libby had taken care of that, making sure that you both had the cute matching bands that Dieter had rolled his eyes over. He fishes them out of his pocket and hands you one. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.” Disney Soulmate the bands proclaim, and it’s clear in an instant that the inspiration for this trip is his ambassadorship for Mate Marks, as their logo is also on the band. Libby is nothing if not efficient. “Where to first?”

Dieter shrugs once the two of you are in the park. It’s still early, the park just opened, and he looks around. “I’m not picky. Although I will want a drink somewhere.” Even though he’s been given strict orders not to get drunk at Disney, he needs a little alcohol.

“God yes.” You laugh when he looks surprised. “What? Auntie likes to get her day drink on, and Disney supposedly does good cocktails.”

He chuckles, surprised that you are so easy with this, and nods towards the interior of the park. You are still right at the gates and people are flooding past you. “Let’s go drink around Disney then.”

The Star Wars campus is first stop, since Steph said you would love it and it’s listed as the longest wait in the park. The longer you put it off today, the line will just keep growing, and even if the lightsabers are crazy expensive you still want to gaze longingly at all the little fake kyber crystals in the souvenir shops.

“God, do I want a Jedi Mind Trick or an Outer Rim?” He waggles his brows, unable to stop the dirty thought that prevails as he looks up at the menu to order a drink. He was getting one in his hand as soon as possible. “Vodka or Tequila?”

“You strike me as more of a tequila guy.” It’s the image he’s cultivated, but you catch yourself sounding accidentally judgmental and bite your lip. Do better. “We’re supposed to be doing cute couple shit, right? Let’s get one of each.”

Dieter is surprised and looks over at you with a raised brow. “Are you sure? I thought for sure you were going to order a Fuzzy Tauntaun.” He jokes, shooting you a grin to remind you that he’s messing with you.

“I’ve never been a big fan of drinks that can be described as fuzzy,” you admit honestly. “But…yeah. Might as well try both?” If it were a third date with anyone else, sharing some drinks or generally being publicly affectionate with the person you’re out with would be no big deal.

“Okay, but if you don’t like them, we’ll get you something else.” Dieter doesn’t want you to drink something because he bought and you hate it. The bartender comes over and Dieter leans against the counter, ordering the drinks.

"You have to really work to get me to hate a cocktail." Leaning with your back to the bar, you can watch all the excited families bustling around as they eagerly start their days. It's a typically gorgeous July morning in Southern California and really, there are a hell of a lot worse places you could be today.

“Anything you want to ride or do you just want to browse, right now?” He asks, glancing over at you before he watches the bartender start making the drinks.

"Does Smuggler's Run sound like any fun to you?" Without any real clue what he would enjoy, you're kind of shooting in the dark. But the Millennium Falcon is a classic for a reason.

“Sure.” He thanks the bartender and signs the slip, adding a generous tip before he holds up the drinks. “Wanna take a picture of them?” He asks with a smirk.

"Full documentation of Disney day drinking?" After all, Libby never said you couldn't socially lubricate today. If it helps you both laugh and smile for the cameras and the onlookers, then that's what you'll do. "But we should probably post pictures of food at some point today, too. Just for safety's sake." After all - all of this is for his image.

“I’m getting one of those Disney apples.” Dieter declares, nodding his head as he takes a sip of the Jedi Mind Trick. “Oh shit…that’s fucking good.”

"Let's do this." Distracted by the throngs of tourists, you don't even think about what you're saying when you put your hand out to ask for the other drink. "Rim me."

“Really?” Dieter grins, winking at you before he hands you the drink. His flirty nature would never let him leave that comment laying there untouched. “I didn’t figure you would be into that kind of thing.” He huffs. “We could get kicked out, you know? Family friendly place and all.”

"What are you—?" It takes you a second to figure out what he's talking about and you pull a face immediately. "No, no no, nope, not at all what I meant!" He knows that of course, and the smirk on his face is normally one that would set you off. But in the spirit of the day you point a finger at him and take a long sip of the drink colorfully named Outer Rim before shaking your head. "I would have to be very drunk to even consider that. And the answer would still probably be no."

“Figured.” Dieter takes another sip of his drink, not wanting to start a fight by teasing you. This morning has gone fairly well, and he wants to keep whatever piece he can.

"Not that I'm not adventurous." You're too stubborn for your own good, you've been told that multiple times by multiple people. And right now you're somehow competing with the image he's conjured of you and you just impulsively jump to defend yourself. "It's just somebody's mouth I don't want there. That's all."

“I get it.” Dieter gives a small shrug like it’s not that big of a deal. “You like that what you like, you don’t like what you don’t like.” He’s never been one to push sexual ideas on people that he’s been with. He’s happy with just plain sex if that’s what he can get.

"Right." He's not engaging today, and maybe that's his own version of trying to tone down the temper that seems to constantly flare between you, so you just nod and take another little sip of the drink before offering it to him to try. "It's good. Sounds like they both are."

He switches glasses with you and takes a sip of the Outer Rim. “Hmmm.” He pulls back to look at it and then back at you. “Pretty damn good.” He offers. “Which one do you like best?” Whichever one, he will let you keep it and take the other.

"Ironically, I think I like the Outer Rim better." They're both excellent, but you offer him back the one he liked better with a smile. "Do you want to get in line after we finish these?"

“We can drink them in line.” He tells you, having learned that when he was here for the opening weekend a few years ago.

"Perfect." Pushing away from the bar, you pause for a second before offering him your hand. He doesn't have to take it, that's fine. But the whole day today is extremely public and it's supposed to end with a staged kiss...and if you can't even get through a little pda then having to kiss him even for a quick peck is going to be actual torture.

Dieter doesn’t know what has happened, but he likes this version of you. He takes your hand and looks over. “I’ll apologize if my hands get sweaty. It happens a lot and I hate it.” He explains.

"I usually have paint or glitter on my hands, so I'll barely notice." The luxury of spending the summer buried in art and craft supplies with Nora hasn't been lost on you, but it has definitely led to you being a bit messier than usual around the house.

“Yeah.” He doesn’t normally deal with glitter unless it was high off his ass at a club, but he gets the paint. “So. What’s next after Smuggler’s Run?”

“You’ve been here before.” The two of you slip into line behind a group of teenagers with your drinks still in hand. “What do you like to do?” The last thing you want is for him to get bored and cranky because this is actually not a train wreck so far. Granted you’ve been here for less than an hour, but it’s still a big step in a good direction.

“Honestly, I walk around a lot.” He tells you. “It’s been a while since I’ve come. Last time was when this place opened.” He looks around and ignores the stares from a few people around the two of you. He knew it would probably happen; it always does.

“Let’s just walk around then.” You shrug a little, seeing a bunch of little kids with their parents starting to stare at him. He’s a movie star, it happens, but it does make you a little uncomfortable. Him too, from the look on his face, so you just keep talking. “I’ve never been here at all, so let’s just wander and see what happens. Just find rides and drinks as we stumble upon them.”

“That sounds good to me.” Dieter drains the rest of his drink and as you shuffle forward in the line, he tosses it in the bin that is there for convenience. He spots a little kid pointing at him and screeching, making him turn to you quickly. “Just go with it, okay?” He asks, not clarifying what, but needing you to agree as the boy breaks free from his parents and race towards him, screeching happily. “Maaaaaaaaannnnnddddoooooooo!”

“Go with—?” Having barely turned away to toss out your empty cup, you hear the kid before you see him. The happy cry is earsplitting and when you reel around again, Dieter has a boy of about six or seven nearly crying in front of him.

“Mando, Mando! I knew it was you!” The little boy is nearly about to bust he is so excited, and Dieter looks back to see his parents rushing towards him, obviously figuring out that he is not the man who plays the Mandalorian on Disney+. “Hey bud, what’s your name?” He asks, kneeling down and raising a hand to signal to the parents that it was okay. He had expected it at least once while he was here.

“Liam!” He tells Dieter excitedly. The little boy’s eyes are wide with that kind of pure joy that is reserved for little kids and it’s an amazing sight to see.

“Hey Liam.” He grins at the kid and his dad rushes up.

“Liam, that’s not—”

His father starts to break the kid’s heart and Dieter doesn’t want that. “Mando’s undercover today, Liam.” He tells the young boy with a wink. “You think you can keep it a secret for me?” He looks around and crooks his finger to have the little boy lean in. “I’m looking for a bounty.” He confides quietly.

“A bad guy?” Little Liam’s eyes open wide and you can’t help but smile. Standing behind Dieter, you have one hand barely covering your mouth to stifle a little soft laughter and more than a little surprise. He’s actually pretty good with kids, if this little boy and Nora are any indication.

“I am.” Liam’s parents relax, smiling slightly when they realize Dieter isn’t going to scold him or burst his bubble. “It’s why I don’t have my armor on.” He tells him confidentially. “Too noticeable.”

Liam looks around like a secret agent scouting a crowded room before he asks, in a very concerned tone: “Do you need help?”

Dieter thinks for a second and nods seriously. “I could use another set of eyes.” He tells him. “I’m looking for a Wookie. You know what they look like?” He asks the starry-eyed boy.

“Like Chewbacca!” He’s excited but his voice is an adorable stage whisper as he nods eagerly.

“Who?” Dieter tilts his head, remembering that Mando hadn’t met Chewy in canon. “This Wookie has black fur. If you see him, you find me, okay?” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small little coin that he had meant to give Nora. It’s one of the credits they had passed out on opening day. “For your trouble.”

“Okay!” Liam breathes out in awe, carefully taking the coin from Dieter’s palm before sprinting back to his parents at full speed. “Dad! Look! Mom, Mom!”

Standing up, he turns and grins at you. “I’ll have to text him and tell him I got another one.”

“That happens a lot?” You motion vaguely in the direction of the retreating child fully aware that the look of shock hasn’t wiped off your face just yet.

“Only for the last couple of years.” He shrugs like it’s not a big deal. “People seem to think I look like Pedro. The guy who plays Mando. Personally, I don’t see it, but they insist.” He tells you, looking slightly bewildered that anyone would think he looks like anyone but himself.

“Huh.” Tilting your head a little, you try to imagine the bulky armor the Star Wars character wears over Dieter’s t-shirt and shorts. It’s…not so far off, actually. “I can kinda see it.”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes. “God, don’t tell me you’ll start believing it. I’ll get him over to stand beside me and you’ll see how different we look.”

“You’re right.” Rolling your eyes back at him, it’s all you can do to keep the smile on your face and not get annoyed with him. “He’s much better looking.”

That makes him send you a hurt pout and huff, turning back towards the line. Muttering under his breath and huffs the words “armor” and “uniform kink”.

There’s no way in hell that you’re going to tell him that that’s correct, and luckily the conversation is wiped away by a couple of fraternity bros who ask for a selfie with Dieter in line a few minutes later. Dieter poses with them, reminding himself that this is a part of being famous. Even if he hates that part. When he turns back to you, he rolls his eyes slightly and huffs. “I need a better disguise.” He jokes.

“We can get you decked out in some Disney gear like me.” He would hate that, and you chuckle at the image. “You would look like every other tourist.”

He rolls his eyes and quickly shakes his head. “But I will take a Hawaiian shirt.” He quips.

“Your souvenir for the day.” Finally at the front of the line, the park employees usher the two of you into the ride along with the Frat boys that had just been in front of you. The virtue of the day, according to Libby, is that on the rides you don’t have to talk much. And while things are going okay today you don’t particularly want to test the limits of what you’re both willing to put up with.

The ride is fun. Dieter likes rides, if he’s honest. What’s not to like about them? They remind him of the small fairs that would come around every year when he was a kid. He laughs and plays along with everyone else until it’s over and you are filing off so others can enjoy it.

The day has a leisurely rhythm to if, punctuated by moments of small annoyance or heavy eye rolling, but when you make it to midafternoon without tearing each other’s throats out you really do have to consider the whole thing a success. Apparently, it’s a lot easier to get along with a little booze involved, who would have figured? According to Libby’s Law - the new name you’ve made up for the list of instructions for every date that Libby has issued you both - the last two mandatory activities are dinner and that visit to the castle.

There have been plenty more autograph seekers and even one more little kid mistaking his identity - but the one that catches you completely off guard is when you and Dieter are staring at a map of the park deciding where to eat and someone comes up to you. Being splashed all over gossip websites was the thing you were dreading almost more than anything else and here is some random teenage— oh god…that’s one of your students… “Please be nice,” you beg quietly, knowing he could take the opportunity to be totally inappropriate and rude if he wanted to be. He’s done it before but this one would be truly upsetting for you. Your students mean the world to you after Nora.

He wants to say something snarky, but he reminds himself that you have been gracious when fans have come up to him. Although it’s probably that you were relieved that you could have a few minutes away from him where you didn’t have to pretend to like him. He watches the kid come up, nervous and obviously harboring a crush on his art teacher, beaming at you as he comes up and hugs you.

You manage to chat with your student for a minute or two before he brings up the obvious elephant in the proverbial room. “So, it’s true, huh?” JJ asks, hands stuffed in his sagging jeans as he nods to the man a few feet in back of you. “Nobody believed it, but Corinne had a big party at her house to watch the Adele concert live and we saw…well I mean it’s none of my business but it was just surprising, that’s all.”

Dieter perks up slightly, amused at the way this kid is towering over you and looks like he can pack away an entire food cart and still be hungry, but he’s nearly blushing. “You must be one of her art students.” Dieter offers, stepping up and offering the kid his hand, just to see how he reacts. “Dieter.”

“JJ.” The wall of a teenager straightens up and shakes his hand with a tiny bit more force than is necessary.

“JJ took my photography class last semester.” And has just confirmed your worst professional nightmare about this whole publicity stunt. That all of your students are watching it unfold. Good luck trying to keep their respect when you become a talk show punchline.

“Signed up for two semesters of painting for next year.” He tells you proudly. “Senior year’s gonna be on the court or at an easel.”

“Oh, I bet.” Dieter hums, shaking his hand slightly after getting it back. Kid had a handshake on him, although his rings being crushed into his fingers didn’t help. His eyes light up. “Photography, you said?”

“Got an A on my final.” JJ tells him with that kind of confidence that only comes with not realizing how little grades matter once you’re out of school.

“So you could take a decent photo for us.” He doesn’t ask, he’s more challenging the kid to say no.

“Way better than decent.” The teen’s chest puffs up proudly.

“Perfect.” Dieter grins and swings around towards you. “My phone or yours? Although I want a copy regardless.” He winks at you and tucks his tongue in his cheek.

It takes a second for all the pieces to click into place: why he’s suddenly so interested in photography, where you’re currently standing, and the fact that it’s obvious to anyone with a bare minimum knowledge of social cues that this particular student has had an adolescent crush on you since his sophomore year. Dieters going to have him take the picture. Have your student bear witness to the thing live and in person. This is going to get blown so out of proportion with your students… “Yours.” You mumble finally, knowing that it’s going to happen no matter what. There’s nothing to do but grit your teeth and bear it.

“Great!” Dieter is practically exuberant as he pulls out his phone and selects the camera. “Now I wouldn’t start looking through it if I were you….” He pauses and grins. “Or maybe I would, but you definitely shouldn’t.” He teases as he shoves the phone into the boy’s hand and rushes over to you. “We want a magical photo of us kissing in front of the castle. Got it?”

Poor JJ’s face practically drops off his head it falls so much, but he nods dutifully and moves to line up a shot that will catch the two of you and the castle but not the three other couples currently trying to get the same type of photo. “Ready when you are, Miss.”

“Cruel.” You mumble under your breath, knowing Dieter is perfectly aware of what he’s doing.

“Life lesson.” Dieter hums back, wrapping his arms around you and drawing you closer. “Do you want to do the cute little leg pop thing?” He asks playfully, leaning in to nudge his nose against yours. He’s thinking of this as a scene, knowing you don’t want to do this, but it’s needed.

“Well you’re not dipping me.” It’s one of those sensations that makes your stomach drop like you’re going to be sick for no apparent reason and you definitely don’t need that right now. “So, fine…leg pop I guess.”

He wets his lips, knowing they are dry and he doesn’t want this to be bad. You already don’t like him, and he’d hate to give you another reason to stack the deck against him. Wanting the next three dates to at least be tolerable before you part ways, never to speak again. “Ready?” He murmurs quietly, still not comfortable with the idea of just taking. He can be an asshole, and a bit of a whore – but it’s all consensual.

The question gets a soft exhale from you, a note of surprise that he would even ask. It’s good - obviously - that he asks. You just weren’t expecting it. “Yeah,” you barely nod, knowing that you’re supposed to look at least happy if not excited to be kissing him. After all, according to the gossip sites, you’re a very happy couple. “Ready.”

Dieter slides his hand around your neck, his hand framing the lower portion of your jaw just like they’ve all been taught for the romantic movies. Apparently, women swoon at that. Leaning in, the kiss starts soft, just the tiniest pressure of his lips against yours until his own small sound of surprise makes him delve a little deeper.

Eyes closed. Don’t clench your jaw. Try to look happy. At this point you’re wondering if they shouldn’t have given you acting classes as part of this contract, but you did just enough in high school drama club to know where to put your hands and how to turn your head to make a kiss look good. It’s the fact that it feels good that shocks you. From practically not touching at all, you feel like you’re being drawn in - the hand you had on his arm drifts to his chest as he presses in a little harder and you’re wondering what the fuck trick of the universe is going on because your whole tree body is lighting up with…with actual pleasure? There’s no way in hell that you’re actually enjoying this kiss, right? Right? You’re not enjoying this, and you definitely didn’t just make a sound. Nope. Not at all.

He groans quietly when you give out a soft sigh, his restraint barely keeping him from sliding his tongue into your mouth. Family friendly, he reminds himself, wanting nothing more than to hear that little sound again. To see what other sounds you would make. It feels like the kiss lasts forever, even though it’s probably less than thirty seconds. Thirty seconds for his entire body to flip and not just his stomach.

“Okay, uh…got it.” JJ’s voice barely breaks through the fog clouding your mind right before you shift to pull Dieter closer, having totally forgotten where you are and what is going on. You practically jump backward, separating yourself from the man currently wrapped around you with much more shock in your reaction than distaste. “Th-thanks.” You manage to mumble, not realizing that you’ve actually put your fingers to your lips like you’re testing to see if they’re feeling things properly.

His own shock humming through his system, Dieter takes a moment before turning to the student. “Uh – yeah.” He shakes off the stupor and walks over to him. “Thanks.” He takes the phone. “Buy you a drink or something?” He asks him, wanting to do something since he had basically demanded a favor.

“Nah, I—uh—I got get back.” The boy points in the direction of the friends he came with, and you realize that a half dozen other students from your school just witnessed that unbelievable display of whatever that was. All you can do is say a polite goodbye and hope like crazy that they’re too weirded out to tell literally everyone they know about seeing their art teacher nearly make out with Dieter Bravo.

He doesn’t look at you, barely able to send you the pictures, several of them. No fucking clue what the hell just happened; he looks around desperately, everywhere but at you. “Need to get squirt something.” He latches on to his promise like a life preserver.

“Toy Story.” You mumble automatically, now firmly unable to even look in his direction let alone actually at him. “She loves Jessie.”

Off like a shot, he’s not even glancing behind him to see if you are following. Totally bewildered by what the fuck just happened, his sneakers slap against the pavement and his ringed finger shove into the curls peeking out underneath his hat as he freaks out slightly.

It takes you a second before you realize he’s completely dusted you, but you’re still too hazy to be upset about it. Pulling out your phone as you hightail it after him toward the nearest shop, you’re tapping out a text as fast as you can and let it still be coherent.

To Stephy: We need to fucking TALK when I get home. Tequila talk, not wine.

Going into the store, Dieter makes a beeline for the Toy Story stuff. “The cowgirl…she likes the cowgirl.” He reminds himself.

Not thirty seconds later, as Dieter is handing his credit card to the cashier behind the counter, you are busting into the shop with a nearly frantic expression on your face. “I need you to take me home,” you tell him immediately, hands running over your arms with repetitive nervous energy. If you had driven yourself you would have already taken off and just called him from the highway to explain.

“What?” Dieter frowns, immediately thinking it’s about the kiss, but he sees your distraught face. “What’s wrong?”

“Steph had to bring Nora to the hospital.” Despite the number of times your little warrior of a niece has been in the emergency room, it never ceases to terrify you. In the beginning it had brought on panic attacks that you had to hide from Steph, and you’re feeling like one might be brewing now. “They gave her something at daycare that made her sick and she’s—she’s still…” You scrub both hands down your face and breathe deeply to stave off anxious tears. “She’s in a lot of pain and the doctors aren’t having any luck stopping it.”

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @hardc0rehaylz @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri

YSV: @tortor-mcgee @hnt-escape @sammus-white @spanishmossmagnolia

My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Dieter Bravo #Dieter Bravo x reader #Dieter Bravo x you #Dieter Bravo x female reader #The Bubble #soulmate au #enemies to lovers #fake dating #Trash Can Man

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airi-p4 · 7 months

Text

Guarded and protected - Chapter 2

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

Chapter 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5 | Ch 6 | Epilogue

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Summary:

Marinette forces Luka to become the new Guardian of the Miraculous after confessing her mutual feelings to him. Seeing her healthier with her memories erased, Luka decides to keep his distance so she doesn't get involved with the Miraculous again.

Tw: Amnesia, Angst with a happy Ending

AO3

_____________________________

Chapter 2: Before and after

Earlier that day, before the event that changed everything, Marinette had come to see him, agitated and troubled. After he helped her cool down a bit, she started talking; it was then when she told him about her secret identity, which he already knew. She had also told him how she had taken care of the Black Cat Miraculous and designated a new wielder for it. Luka didn't question it; he completely trusted her judgment.

And then, she told him he would be a great Guardian and the best partner she could ever wish for.

He imagined she meant it as a shared Guardianship—but her last words proved him wrong.

Before she renounced Guardianship, she confessed that she had never stopped loving him—and everybody (except her, maybe) knew he hadn't either.

Probably—no, most likely— the reason it took him so much to realize what was actually happening was because he had lost himself in the contact of her lips on his.

She kissed him. And he kissed her back, as he had longed to for so long…

He had no idea that joy would be so brief (yet unforgettable and everlasting in his memories).

A low and soft "I love you," exchange followed. A shy smile, and a bittersweet look projected in her eyes the next moment, when she finished saying the Guardianship renouncing words she had once learned from the previous Guardian and her mentor.

He hadn't known. He had no way to know. He couldn't have anticipated it. Not until Tikki told—yelled—at him.

Her memories were gone…

What about her feelings…?

His heart dropped with her simple question: "Who are you?"

It hurt. A lot.

Like the worst of his nightmares.

Worse than those he had already been suffering lately—with failed or possible gone wrongs and heart-wrecking second chances crystal clear in his mind, restlessly tormenting him in his sleep, making him wake up agitated and dizzy and covered in shivering cold sweat almost daily.

At least the bad dreams ended when he woke up—unlike what was going on now: cruel reality.

If he had known about her memory loss… would he have accepted the magical box?

Probably not, but he wasn't sure.

Because, looking at her, there, in front of him, the bags on her eyes gone, as well as with the gloomy air that had surrounded her for years and just until a minute ago, added to how she wasn't tense or anxious either anymore…

She looked healthier and, despite his pain, he couldn't not be happy for her.

#my fic #airip4 #Guardian Luka AU #lukanette fic #endgame lukanette #angst fic #sad/angst

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quickspinner · 11 months

Text

Indelible - Ch 22 Foot

Luka hugged Renée, grinning as they both stepped back to look at each other. “It’s good to see you,” he said, “Sorry it has to be a business lunch. They’re really packing my schedule lately.”

“I bet they are, but I’m not complaining,” Renée laughed as they sat down at the cafe table. “You’re really making a mark these days, and a scoop with you will feed me for months.”

“I’m just a mealticket to you,” Luka sighed dramatically, and Renée laughed.

“A girl’s gotta eat,” she teased, waving the menu at him. “And so do you. Have you lost weight?”

“A little,” Luka admitted, with a tired smile. It was nice, not to have to put up a front for Renée. “We’re just busy. Our tour manager makes sure I eat regularly, though, I promise. Nobody wants their mealticket wasting away.” He winked as Renée grinned at the joke.

“Well, shall we get the work talk out of the way?” she asked, flipping open her notebook, and Luka settled back with a sigh.

“Can’t we order first?” he complained.

“I already ordered,” Renée told him, and grinned when he gave a half-hearted glare. “No more delays, let’s get into it.”

“If we must,” Luka sighed, and let Renée grill him about the expansion of the tour, the new cities they had added, and the rumors about a second album. The food was good; Renée still remembered what he liked, so at least he enjoyed the meal while he endured the questions.

Finally, she closed her notebook, and Luka relaxed a little. There was still something about Renée’s bloodhound mode that put him on edge, even though he trusted her.

“So, I have a question about Marinette,” Renée said suddenly, leaning forward and putting her elbows on the table.

Luka looked up, surprised, and met her gaze.

“Rumor is she’s dating Felix Graham de Vanily,” Renée continued, watching his face. “Is it true?”

Luka blinked, and then shrugged. “Maybe. I haven’t talked to her for a while, actually.” At the quirk of Renée’s eyebrow, he felt compelled to add, “We’ve both been busy. We talked on her birthday, but not much since.”

“Hm.” Renée eyed him. “And you’re okay with that?”

“I’m okay with whatever makes Marinette happy,” Luka replied, not looking away. “I always have been.” “What was all that business at New Year’s, then?”

Luka winced. Of course she knew about that. She’d been there, after all, and she was observant. “Just a little too much champagne, that’s all. I got a little carried away. I care a lot about Marinette but she’s never been interested in me that way. I accepted that a long time ago. I just had a little…slip in judgment that night. We talked it out afterwards and life goes on.”

Renée frowned, tapping her fingers on the table. “Life goes on, so she decides to date a guy that’s practically her ex’s twin? Don’t you find that a little weird?”

Luka snorted. “I’ve known Marinette a long time. It doesn’t seem like that big of a stretch to me. I don’t think it will last, though.” He closed his mouth on the rest of what he might have said. He didn’t want to be talking about Marinette behind her back. He already felt guilty enough about talking to Adrien about her, even though Adrien’s reassurance that Felix, while self-absorbed and pretentious, wasn’t really a bad guy, had eased Luka’s mind considerably. There was still a niggling suspicion in the back of his mind that Marinette’s infatuation with Felix was more about a second chance at the life she thought she was getting with Adrien, but that wasn’t something he intended to discuss with Renée.

“Well, I hope she knows what she’s doing,” Renée said, finally leaning back into her seat with a slight slouch. “Her reputation’s taking a hit. ‘Gold digger,’ is one of the nicer things people are calling her.”

“She’s a big girl,” Luka sighed, although those headlines had bothered him too. “She can make her own choices.”

Renée shot him one more short glance. “But she hasn’t told you she was dating him?”

Luka shook his head, hands tightening on the arms of his chair. He didn’t want to admit how much that bothered him. At least when Marinette had started dating Adrien she’d had the decency to call him herself.

Not that he was entitled to priority news updates on her love life. Of course not. It just…would have been nice if she had let him know. Or, you know. Talked to him literally at all. He couldn’t seem to get through to her at all these days, and her text responses were long delayed and short. It hurt more than he wanted to admit, when he had the time to think about it. Fortunately time was not something he had a lot of lately.

“So what’s your mom up to these days?” Renée asked abruptly, and Luka smiled, appreciating the change in conversation, though he paused to check the time before leaning back in his chair and picking up his cup of tea.

“You’re gonna love this one,” he said dryly, “So I’m three countries away and I suddenly get a call from Juleka—”

***

Luka had to give his label credit, they didn’t sleep on an opportunity. He rubbed his tired eyes and leaned his chin on his elbow as he handed the freshly signed paper back to Lucille. “What’s next?”

“That’s it,” said Lucille with a smile, squaring the stack of paper in her hands. “Congratulations, you’re officially signed for a second album and a headline tour to promote it. Now all you have to do is write and record it.”

Luka grinned weakly. “You make it sound so easy, while I’m still in the middle of this tour’s circus.”

“You’re doing a great job, Luka,” Lucille told him, leaning forward to squeeze his shoulder. She looked at him closely, and Luka tried to pull himself together and look a little more alert. “You’re sure you’re up for all this? We’ve just put an awful lot on your plate with these extra shows.”

Luka nodded, straightening up. “I’ll be glad when it’s over,” he admitted, “and I don’t think I’ll be able to get too much writing done until it is, so I’ll have to buckle down over the break to get everything written, demoed, and recorded, but it’ll be worth it.”

“Your one-on-one interview go okay? The one with your friend?”

Luka blinked for a moment. His talk with Renée seemed like it was months ago but in reality it had only been a few weeks. “Yes, I think so. She should be about ready to release, so I was going to call her and let her confirm the new album now that the ink’s on paper.”

Lucille nodded slowly and sat back. “How’s the new kid working out?”

Luka’s grin was a little more genuine. “Yann? He’s great. You wouldn’t expect anyone as quiet and shy as he is to be able to get shit done like he does, but he’s amazing. I’d definitely like to have him for the next tour if he’s willing.”

Lucille nodded. “I’ll talk to him and get a contract worked up. The label’s finally waking up to how awesome you are,” she grinned as Luka ducked his head, “So I should be able to get some concessions to make the next bit easier.” She stood and bopped Luka lightly on the head with the stack of her papers. “Just don’t overdo it. Make sure you’re taking care of yourself. Every rockstar is a human being who needs to eat and sleep and gets hung over if they drink too much.”

Luka bit back the yes, mom that wanted to escape and just nodded. “Thanks for flying out, Lucille. It really helps to do all this contract crap in person. Too many distractions when you’re not here to chase people away.”

Lucille laughed. “Of course. I’d be here more often if I could.” She sighed with a touch of frustration, and then smiled at him. “Looking forward to the show tonight. It’s been ages since I’ve been able to see you play live.”

“I’ll try to make you proud.”

***

Every day felt like a whirlwind now, with publicity events and signings in addition to the extra tour stops. Road days were almost a relief, when Luka could finally sit down, put on his headphones and let his brain wander for a while. They usually stopped being a relief by the seventh or eighth hour, when he was ready to get up and move a little bit, but Yann was observant and generally knew when one of them needed a break. He usually found them a rest stop before they went for each other's throats. Still, by the time they got to their hotel at night they were all glad to pile out of the van, find something to eat, and separate to their own rooms for a while.

It was their last scheduled show with Jagged and predictably, everything in proximity to Jagged was a madhouse. Luka brought his dinner back up to the room, hoping for some peace, and found Dingo was sitting on his bed. Dingo frowned down at some slightly crumpled sheets in his hands. Luka froze for an instant, knowing immediately what those papers were, but he covered it as well as he could, shutting the door behind him and walking past Dingo.

“You been working on this again?” Dingo asked, looking up and waving the pages at him. “This is the one you started at the beginning of the year, right?” He hummed a bit of the tune, and Luka winced a little.

“Yeah,” Luka said, keeping his back to his friend as he set his to-go container down and checked his phone. He answered yet another text message from one of Marinette’s friends, asking if he’d heard from her. Apparently he wasn’t the only one she was ghosting lately. He wasn’t sure whether to feel worried or relieved. “It's still not done though. Where’d you find those sheets, anyway? I forgot where I put them.”

“They were on the floor this morning.”

“Huh. I must’ve dropped them out of some—”

“Play it.”

Luka looked up, brow furrowing. “What?”

“I wanna hear it,” Dingo said, holding the sheets out to him. “Play it. You weren’t near this far along with it last time I heard it.”

Luka shrugged, taking the papers. He didn’t really need them, but it was as good an excuse as any to take them back. “It’s not ready,” he said, shoving them inside one of his bags.

Dingo rolled his eyes. “Don’t bullshit me, mate, just play it.”

Luka sighed, and pulled his guitar case up onto his bed. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he said lightly as he unzipped it, but he could see the way Dingo’s brows were furrowed above his shades and knew. Dingo wasn’t going to let it go. As much as he wanted to pretend like the song was nothing, Luka felt all his muscles tense up as he played the first few chords. His hands stilled and he shook his head.

“Keep going,” Dingo insisted, and Luka sighed. He kept playing, gritting his teeth against the feelings that were flooding back. As soon as he’d gotten as far as he could go, he stopped playing and lifted the strap over his head.

“I’m not ready to finish it,” Luka declared, shaking his head as he put the guitar on the bed. “I might not finish it at all.”

“Why not? It’d be nice to play something with some teeth to it,” Dingo asked, tilting his chin down to look at Luka over the rim of his sunglasses. Luka was tempted to tell him he looked like one of their old high school teachers, about to ask why they weren’t meeting their potential. “We could use a little more bite in our sound, if you ask me.”

Luka just shook his head. “Not the right time. I don’t have time to think about it right now, anyway. Our schedule's insane for the next few weeks with all those big stadium shows they added.”

Dingo groaned, flopping back on the bed with his arms wide. “I’m so bored, Lu. I thought we’d have some fun playing with Jagged again but this leg has been nothing but contracts and paperwork and scheduling and blah blah blah.”

Luka huffed a laugh. “You haven’t made anything explode in months, I can see why. Tell you what,” he added, picking up a drumstick from the table and chucking it at Dingo, who managed to snatch after it bounced off him. “Grab your gear while I eat. Our stuff’s already set up for rehearsal. We'll go jam. You can lead and I’ll find something to go along with it. If we come up with anything decent, we’ll work on it in the breaks. I’ve got to start coming up with something for this next album anyway and I’m not making much progress on my own.”

“Hell yeah,” Dingo cheered, twirling the drumstick as he leaped off the bed. “Think we can make enough noise to make Jagged’s roadies complain?” He grinned wickedly. “If any of them can even hear anymore anyway.”

Luka rolled his eyes. “At the rate Jagged fires people they probably don’t have time to go deaf,” he muttered, but he was grinning as he opened his food.

***

Luka groaned and rolled over to answer his phone. “It’s the middle of the night here, Rose,” he grumbled, glancing at the other bed. The shadowy lump that was Dingo didn’t move, and the snores didn’t stop. Luka wasn’t surprised; they’d done three shows in a row this week and they were all exhausted.

“Good, then you’re free. You’ve barely been answering my texts. What’s going on with Marinette? Have you seen what the papers are saying?”

“Missed you too, Rose. Where’s Juleka?” Luka asked, then cleared his throat. He was getting hoarse. He’d have to try and rest his voice tomorrow.

“Asleep. She doesn’t want to talk about it. She thinks I should just leave it alone.”

Luka sighed through his nose. “She’s right, you know. Marinette can date who she wants.”

“But she wants you !”

“Apparently she doesn’t.”

“I can’t accept that. I’ve seen you two together. How am I supposed to leave this alone ?” Rose hissed. “You’ve been in love with Marinette your whole life! The last time I saw the two of you together you might as well have been married the way you acted! Not just you, her too!”

“Well, she met someone else,” Luka sighed, rubbing at his eyes. “It happens.”

“Luka! You need to go see her. Go—go do something about it!”

“Do what, Rose?” Luka asked. “Even if I could leave, which I really can't right now, what do you expect me to do? Beg?”

Rose sighed like he was the dumbest person alive. “Not right away. Sweep her off her feet first! Show her how romantic you can be and that you're just as much her fantasy prince as this, this Felix guy!”

“I'm not though,” Luka muttered.

“ Then you tell her you can't live without her and beg her to come back with you?”

Luka snorted. “And do what?”

“Luka if you don't know what to do after that we need to have a whole different talk.”

“You know what I mean.” Luka rolled his eyes. “I get her back here and what? Cram her and her sewing machine in the back of the van where she can spend all her time on the phone with her lawyer trying to explain why she broke her contract.”

“You're being very unCouffaine right now.”

“Well somebody in this family had to grow up eventually,” Luka snapped. “Rose, do you know how many people’s paychecks I'm responsible for right now?

Rose was quiet for a moment, and when she spoke, she sounded almost hurt. “Don't you want to fight for her?”

“ No ,” Luka replied, with unexpected force, and then he softened his voice. “No, Rose, I don't want to fight for her. I don't want to argue, I don't want to beg. I want to be enough, just like I am.” The words rang in his head and he rolled over, blindly grabbing at the notepad and pen on his nightstand. He flipped on the lamp, blinked against the light, and scribbled the words down quickly. He had enough time to finish, turn off the light, and lay back again before Rose had processed what he said enough to reply.

“Oh, Luka,” Rose sighed. “But she does love you. I'm sure she does. You guys were getting so close again, I was sure—”

“I know,” Luka muttered. “We were wrong, though, Rose.”

“Well it was a shitty thing to kiss you like that and then freak out,” Rose griped, and Luka has to laugh at the unexpected curse.

“Rose—” he began, but she cut him off.

“No!” Rose snapped, and Luka could picture her stamping her foot. “No, I don't have to be okay with this. It's not fair and it's not fine and you deserve better.”

Luka couldn't help smiling, though weakly. “Thanks, Rose. I love you, okay?”

Rose sighed. “I love you too.”

“Are you going to be there for the Paris show?”

“Luka,” Rose said, again as if he were stupid, “Your first headline show at the Eiffel Tower? Of course we’re going to be there. All three nights in fact. Then I’m going to make sure you sleep for a week and feed you your weight in—in food,” she finished lamely, and Luka laughed.

“I’ll see you guys in a couple weeks, then,” he promised. “Now good night, Rose.”

***

It felt like a dream when he got out of the van and looked up at the tower that had been a daily sight in his childhood. It was lit up, and the grandstands were being set up in front of it. He’d watched his first Jagged Stone concert here.

And now it was his name up there on the banner. It didn’t feel real.

The concert personnel swept in and Luka followed Yann’s murmured directions almost in a daze. They ushered everyone to the trailers set up for the performers to get ready. Sound check, hair, makeup, it was was a madhouse, but one that had become routine.

The first two shows went by in a blur, the high of performing mixed with worry that something would go wrong, and the jangling dissonance of both knowing the whirl and rush of the tour would soon be over, and feeling like it would never end.

Luka still wasn’t used to having his own dressing room, but as they started booking larger shows, Lucille had begun stipulating for one, and Yann made sure he got at least five minutes to himself, without dressers and makeup people and coordinators running in and out. Luka appreciated having a space of his own where he could, for at least a little bit, shut out the world and breathe, and appreciated even more that the people supporting him realized he needed it. Luka’s heart sped up even at the thought of an entire tour with this much spectacle. He hoped he would get used to it.

Luka was in the middle of those five quiet minutes, sitting with his eyes closed and counting his breaths, when the door swung open, making him jump. He opened his eyes, and then blinked them in astonishment at the woman standing in the doorway. “Kagami.”

“Luka.” She stepped inside and shut the door behind her, then turned to face him, ramrod straight and businesslike as always in a pants suit with sharp lines, white over a red shirt. Luka got to his feet, fidgeting with his rings, feeling very aware of his stage clothes and makeup.

“This is unexpected,” he said, unable to think of anything else. Outside of the occasional congratulatory text, probably prompted by Marinette, he hadn’t seen or heard from Kagami in years.

As casual acquaintances brought together by a mutual friend, they’d always been cordial, but never really friendly. Kagami had never been comfortable around him, and he understood. She presented a poised, perfect, carefully curated version of herself to the world, and his presence upset her balance. That he would never tell her secrets was irrelevant; he could read them, and that was already too much. Luka had always tried to respect her reticence, but she was perceptive in her own way.

“I know,” Kagami replied crisply. “I came to talk about Marinette.”

Luka’s eyebrows shot up. “Now?”

“Yes, now,” Kagami said a little sharply, crossing her arms, a slightly irritated expression cracking her mask. Oddly, it made Luka feel a little better, since it reminded him of the suffering expression she’d often worn when they were out with Marinette as kids. “I’m worried about her,” Kagami added stiffly, when Luka said nothing. “I’m sure you are too.”

“Some,” Luka admitted, and sat back down on the couch, gesturing Kagami to the makeup chair. She eyed it for a moment, and then sat down in it, careful not to lean back. “I don’t see that there’s anything I can do, though. I can barely get her to text me back, let alone pick up the phone.”

“Don’t you find that concerning?” Kagami asked, eyes narrowing slightly as she looked him over again. “It’s not like Marinette not to keep in touch.”

Luka tilted his head slightly. “She’s not talking to you either.”

Kagami looked away.

They were silent for a moment.

“What exactly are you planning to do?” Luka asked.

“I’m going to get her,” Kagami said flatly, giving him a look like it should have been obvious. “I want you to go with me.”

Luka choked on the “Now?” that wanted to come out. Of course now. That was how Kagami was. Never mind that he had a stadium full of people waiting for him.

Well….after the show. If she was willing to wait until after the show, he could go. Technically, after tonight, he was free. There'd be meetings to reschedule and all that corporate bullshit, but...he could go.

Except, there was the new album he'd promised, which he'd barely made a start on. He was on a deadline to get everything witten, demoed, and cut for the album, and if that didn't get done on time then all the plans they had made for next season would come crashing down, and where would that leave him? Him, and the bandmates that trusted him to fulfill his obligations, and the producers who took a chance on him, and Lucille who'd worked so hard to get him the independence he wanted, and Yann, who was already on contract for the next tour...Luka had caught Dingo looking at engagement rings on his phone last night.

“I talked to Adrien,” Luka said finally. “He said that Felix is all right. A bit sharp, but not cruel. Dedicated to the ones he loves.”

Kagami snorted softly, rolling her eyes. “You trust Adrien’s judgment?”

“Not entirely,” Luka admitted. “You know he tends to think the best of people. I do think there’s probably some malice on Felix’s side, dating Adrien’s ex-girlfriend.”

“Undoubtedly. Felix is a much more aggressive opponent than Adrien, and more ruthless. Whether that is his primary motivation or not, Felix will be aware of the effect it has on Adrien, and he will enjoy it.”

“You’ve met him?”

“Briefly, once or twice, when Adrien and I were dating. Not for very long at a time, and it was many years ago,” Kagami admitted. “He won’t be good for Marinette. He won’t be good to her. He is selfish and insular and…and he likes to win.”

Luka let that sink in for a moment. “Adrien doesn’t think Felix would hurt her.”

“Not physically,” Kagami agreed grudgingly.

“What are you afraid he is doing to Marinette?” Luka asked, deciding to go straight to the point. He had a show to put on, after all.

“I…don’t know,” Kagami admitted, standing abruptly and walking across the room, folding her hands behind her back. “I only know that she won’t talk to me, she won’t see me, and it all started when she took this job with Felix. She wouldn’t just get too busy to talk to m—us. She never has been before, no matter what was going on.”

Luka shrugged. “If she’s in love with Felix then she might just not be thinking about anyone else. Caught up in the pink sparkles, or whatever.”

Kagami’s hand went to a place high on her thigh. “She wouldn’t just forget us.” Her voice was tight and trembling.

Luka found his own hand resting on his side, and tore his thoughts away from washed out colors and blurred lines. He forced his hand down and sighed, trying to be gentle. “I think we both know that neither of us is exactly objective in this situation, Kagami.”

“That is irrelevant,” Kagami insisted. “She’s our friend. Shouldn’t we protect her?”

“From what?” Luka asked, and the words betrayed his frustration. He stood up and paced the small room himself. “Making stupid choices? If she wanted our opinions, she knows where to find us. If she hasn’t asked by now, it’s because she doesn’t want to hear what I—what either of us have to say about it.”

“She listens to you,” Kagami said stiffly, uncomfortable with his emotion. She looked away from him. “If you went there she’d see you. She’d talk to you.”

“You don’t know that, and this time neither do I.” Luka stared at his toes. If only he hadn’t kissed her. If only she hadn’t kissed him , and tangled everything up. Maybe she would still feel safe to talk to him. Maybe he would feel safe asking her to. “You go, if you think you need to,” he said softly, after a moment. “She might not listen to you, but she’ll see you, and at least you can make sure she’s all right. I trust you to recognize…if anything else is going on.” He knew even the strongest women could end up in bad situations, but he still couldn’t imagine anyone lifting a hand against Marinette unopposed and unpunished. Certainly he couldn’t imagine Felix doing it. Manipulative and ambitious Felix might be, but if there had ever been a time when Felix had to resort to physical coercion, it must have been a deep disappointment to him. It wasn’t the kind of victory he would savor. It would be no kind of victory over Adrien if Marinette stayed with him out of fear, after all.

Luka shook his head. No, Felix would have to make her love him to be satisfied. Luka knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that if he went and confronted Marinette about Felix, that regardless of Luka’s intentions, it wouldn’t be a conversation about what Marinette really wanted, about whether this was really the best choice for herself. One way or another, it would become him or me , a choice between Felix and Luka, with the loser shut out for life.

Luka had never been her choice, and he had always respected that. He shook his head. It wasn’t that he was cutting his losses, but…

“I think I’ve given enough,” he said, very quietly, and he heard Kagami sigh.

“Maybe you have,” she agreed. “And yet, I’m disappointed.”

Silence fell, and neither of them moved.

Finally another huff of air left Kagami, and he heard the slide of her shoes and the whisk of her pantsuit as she turned to leave. The door opened, but then she paused.

“Should I call you if anything happens?”

“Of course.” It didn’t have the vehemence, the conviction it would have had a year ago, but it was still an unalterable truth. He would be there if she needed him. If Marinette needed him.

She needs you now , a voice whispered in his mind as the door shut behind Kagami, and Luka shook his head to clear it. Maybe she did, and maybe she didn’t, and the fact that he didn’t know the answer was unsettling all by itself. Wasn’t that proof enough that she was pushing him away? How could he, with all his tangled feelings, ever hope to go into a situation like that with anything like neutrality? How could he possibly be anything besides a complication?

Let her choose first. Then he would be there for her, if he needed to be.

Yann threw the door open, pale and clearly flustered. Luka would have to have a word with Kagami about frightening his staff, apparently. “We’re running late now, are you ready?”

“Yeah,” Luka said, shaking his arms out in an attempt to settle his nerves. “Guess I’ll have to be.”

Fiction Master Post

#quickspins #indelible #lukanette #lukanette endgame #endgame lukanette #marinette dupain-cheng #luka couffaine #miraculous ladybug #miraculousladybug #pro lukamari

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inevitably-johnlocked · 2 years

Text

Johnlock Podfics by Podfixx

Hey all! Today’s a different kind of Fic Rec Sunday! I was recently asked to send some love to the amazing @podfixx, and of course I said yes! And I’ve decided to do it in one of my fave ways for content creators: promoting their work!! While I’ve never listened to podfics (it’s not really my thing) I know that Podfixx is a staple of the Sherlock podfic community and deserves all the love for their hard work, professionalism, and dedication.

I want to share my own happy experience with Podfixx: they are the reason I have chapter counts on my fic recs now, if you guys didn’t know. They asked me a few years ago if I could add Chapter counts to fics, because [and this isn’t verbatim, but it’s how I interpreted what they told me... can’t find the message now, it was so long ago] adding chapters actually helps podficcers in deciding which fics to pick next to read, or how to break up a LONG 1 Chapter fic, and helps them plan out their podfic schedule. First of all, I was FLOORED that someone as amazing as Podfixx even read my fic lists (I’m always shocked when anyone takes vested interest in anything I do), but that, at the time, they used them to help pick fics. And since then, I’ve always put chapter counts on all my fics.

So you guys should go and give them a listen!:) This list is OBVIOUSLY not comprehensive, and not everything they’ve done, but PLEASE check out their “Podfixx” tag for everything they’ve read (including Good Omens and Jeeves and Wooster!), and give them some love!!

Click on the “PODFIC AVAILABLE” link to go to the Tumblr or Ao3 posts linking to their Spotify Tracks!

Enjoy! And thank you @podfixx for providing endless hours of fics for the community! This one is for you 💜🖤

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The Lustful Cockmonster by hubblegleeflower (M, 954 w., 1 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Established Relationship, Pet Names for Penises, Fluff, Humour) – Not many people know this, but Sherlock is the funny one. Part 2 of the Favourite Ficlets series

Something red, something green, something sparkly by Silvergirl (M, 1,106 w., 1 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Christmas, Texting, Impending Desperation, Gift Shopping) – If you can't solve a puzzle yourself, ask the experts. Of course, the experts may be utterly useless ... until they aren't.

Out of the Shadow of Missed Chances by MargueriteSomebodyoranother (T, 1,132 w., 1 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post TRF / TEH Fic, Reunion, Idiots in Love, Mutual Pining) – He’d had eighteen months - it seemed like a goddamned eternity at the time - and he never uttered a word.

The Man in Aisle Ten by standbygo (G, 1,395 w., 1 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Christmas, Shopping, Gifts, Original Female Character POV) – It's Christmas Eve, the busiest day for shopping at Harrod's, and there's a guy in aisle ten who's snapping at every sales associate who dares to approach him. It's up to Moira to help him find the perfect present. [TRANSLATIONS: Русский || 中国]

Ink by Strange_johnlock (T, 1,460 w., 1 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Parentlock with Rosie, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss/Time, Tattoos, Mutual Pining, Angst, Fluff) – Every tattoo Sherlock gets has to do with John.

On The Dangers Of Semi-Skimmed by loveanddeathandartandtaxes (M, 1,536 w., 1 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-S4, Domestics, Masturbation, Accidental Voyeurism, First Time) – “I don't mind,” John blurts. Sherlock looks at him. “If you were to come up to my room for - anything.”

Letters, Redux by earlgreytea68 (G, 1,730 w., 1 Ch. || PODFICS AVAILABLE: [PODFIXX || THEMUSECALLIOPE] || Tags to Be Added) – While he's dead, Sherlock writes John more letters. Part 3 of Letters [TRANSLATIONS: Polski || Русский]

Say you won't let go by WritingOutLoud (G, 1,996 w., 1 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || TSo3 Fix It, POV John First Person, Drunk Sherlock, Drunk John, First Kiss) – Short ficlet about what could have happened if they hadn't had a case on the stag night. [TRANSLATIONS: Español]

Letters, the Writing Of by earlgreytea68 (G, 2,416 w., 1 Ch. || PODFICS AVAILABLE: [PODFIXX || THEMUSECALLIOPE] || Tags to Be Added) – While he's dead, Sherlock writes John letters. Part 1 of the Letters series [TRANSLATIONS: Русский || Polski]

The Perils of Pair Bonding by Infinitely_Stranger (M, 2,761 w., 2 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post S4, Awkward Conversations, Idiots Being Idiots) – Sherlock turns out to have been a bit wrong about something. John turns out to have noticed.

The General Idea by agirlsname (T, 3,022 w., 1 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Retirement, Promise of Forever / Proposal, POV John, First Kiss, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Soft Sherlock, Idiots in Love, Crying / Emotional Sherlock, Love Confessions) – After twenty years of friendship, John is used to Sherlock acting weirdly. But the news Sherlock finally brings himself to deliver change the carefully built dynamics between them, and John realises it's time to act.

The Beauty of Broken Edges by snorklepie (E, 3,181 w., 1 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || POV John, John’s PTSD, Sexuality, Blow Jobs, Idiots in Love, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Feelings Realization, Fluff, 221B Baker Street, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Frottage) – John Watson thinks he's Very Bad at Relationships. Sherlock Holmes dreams of wandering around his entorhinal cortex.

By the Rivers of Babylon by verdant_fire (T, 3,359 w., 1 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post HLV Canon Divergence, Love Declarations, Exile, Pining Sherlock, Longing, Angst, POV Sherlock, Reunions, First Kiss) – Sherlock goes back to Serbia, and endures exile, boredom/torture, and a certain chemical defect, for the sake of one person and three improbable words.

Safe Harbour by 221b_hound (G, 3,842 w., 1 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-TRF, Angst, Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Five and One) – Five times John comforts someone, and one time someone comforts him.

The Romance Was There by apliddell (G, 4,011 w., 1 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post S3, Post Mary, Christmas, Domestics, Villain Mary, Platonic Bedsharing, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Angst, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Love Letters) – In which Sherlock reveals his merits as a housekeeper, and a few other things, too.

Tree Topper by May_Shepard (E, 4,017 w., 1 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Christmas Tree, Christmas Fluff, Drunken Shenanigans, Smut, First Time, Friends to Lovers) – Sherlock and John are celebrating Christmas the best way they know how--alone together, with booze. They've almost finished decorating their tree, but John is determined to find the best way to top it.

Golden Hours by stopthat (M, 4,783 w., 2 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || POV Sherlock, Friends to Lovers, Fluff and Angst, Hugs and Cuddles, Conversations, First Kiss/Time, Seaside Cottage, Love Confessions, Frottage, Tenderness, Sexual Tension) – John is too quiet. Sherlock whisks him away to the sea.

Letters, the Reading Of by earlgreytea68 (T, 5,334 w., 1 Ch. || PODFICS AVAILABLE: [PODFIXX || THEMUSECALLIOPE] || Tags to Be Added) – While he's dead, Sherlock writes John letters. John reads them. Part 2 of the Letters series [TRANSLATIONS: Polski || Русский]

Five Times Sherlock Fell Asleep in John's Arms by Accident and the One Time He Did It – Accidentally – on Purpose by WillowGrove (T, 7,201 w., 6 Ch, || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Five and One, Falling Asleep, Cuddling & Snuggling, Texting, Tea, First Kiss, Dreams, Fever, Comfort, Caretaker John, Love, Humour, Fluff) – Sherlock notices that John keeps cuddling him to sleep and he rather likes it. But then John stops, and Sherlock has to result to schemes to make it happen again. Who falls asleep, who wakes up in who’s arms, and – most importantly – will there be a kiss in the end?

Three New Messages by earlgreytea68 (M, 7,485 w., 2 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Tags to Be Added Upon Reading) – If you were dying, if you'd been murdered -- in your very last seconds, what would you say? [TRANSLATIONS: Русский || 中国]

of midnight moments and mistletoe by hudders-and-hiddles (M, 7,669 w., 4 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Christmas, First Kiss, Fluff, Mistletoe, Snow) – John and Sherlock are throwing a Christmas Eve party, and the flat is all strung up with mistletoe.

The Love Song of Two Idiots by SkipandDi (T, 7,868 1 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Crack, Humour, Proposals) – The eighth time Sherlock proposed to John, it was on a Thursday afternoon in the middle of a Tesco. And like the seven times before, he got rejected. Part 2 of The Infiltrate Series

Tomorrow by Berty (M, 9,517, 1 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Magical Realism AU || Canon Divergence, Christmas, Hurt/Comfort, Spells and Enchantments, Married John/Mary, Difficult Decisions, Fluff and Angst) – The night before they travel to Dorset to spend Christmas with Sherlock's parents and John's wife, 221 Baker Street is peaceful with the smell of baking, flickering candles and presents under the tree. But Father Christmas can't be relied upon to bring the boys their heart's desires. Just as well Mrs Hudson - who is NOT a fairy godmother OR their housekeeper, thank you very much - is so good at her job.

Casualty by Silvergirl (E, 12,051 w., 4 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Canon Compliant Until T6T, Mary’s Dead, Trauma/Comfort, John’s a Good Friend, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss/Time, Sherlock Learns Teamwork, Parentlock) – Sherlock renders assistance at a hit-and-run and is left deeply shocked. When the accident turns into a case, John moves back in to 221b to help—and finds that Sherlock has way oversold his image as an emotionless thinking machine.

A Thousand Kisses Deep by Susan (E, 12,689 w., 1 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Time Travel, Longing, Angst, Post S1, Time Travel Fix It) – “Come here,” Sherlock said and when he did, he put his arm across John’s shoulder, and pulled him close. John let him, and after a moment, rested his head against Sherlock’s chest. Sherlock felt the familiar ache, a longing for what might have been. If only he’d been braver, more sure of John’s feelings. He dropped his arms and stepped back. It was too late. Things were as they were meant to be. But it was autumn in Sussex, and everything was changing. If you were given a chance to go back to the beginning and make things right, would you take it?

The Zebra Sheets by agirlsname (M, 13,733 w., 35 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post TRF, POV Sherlock, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, UST, Dialogue-Heavy, Relationship Negotiation, Holidays/Sussex, Touch-Starved Sherlock, Brief Mentions of Torture, Falling in Love, Mentions of Past Drug Use) – Sherlock is back from the dead and he's exhausted. So is John. They go on a holiday to a faraway cottage and unexpected truths are revealed.

Almost Home by Berty (E, 13,871 w., 1 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Alternate First Meeting, Captain John, Pining John, University Student Sherlock, Gay Bar, First Time, Anal, Mutual Masturbation, Protective Big Brother Mycroft, POV John, Time Skips, Memories, Angst With Happy Ending) – He pulls out the ID card – the one that Sherlock had somehow seen when he was buying drinks at that awful club. He’s had other ID cards since then but he’s hung on to this one for some reason. He looks at the image of his face, young and pale and idealistic, and he knows that just a month later that man would have found and lost the love of his life within a week, and even knowing that, John wouldn’t change a single thing.

About Sleep and Coffee and the Existence of Fate by Atiki (E, 17,426 w., 6 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Fluff, Marriage Proposal, Humour, 5 and 1) – Naturally, John was startled when suddenly the ultimate solution occurred to him: Marriage. This was, of course, a bit of a fundamental problem rather than an actual solution. One didn't simply use the words “Sherlock” and “marriage” within the same sentence. Not even in a hypothetical context. Five times John kind of wanted to propose to Sherlock, and one time he didn’t have to.

Straight Boy Pain by Glenmore (NR, 18,257 w., 10 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Coming Out, Pain, Romance, Birds, Sexuality) – Sherlock is in pain. Billy Kinkaid, the Camden garroter and best man Sherlock knows, diagnoses it. Ademar Silver, a male prostitute in south London, attempts to treat it. Lestrade, kindly Detective Inspector of New Scotland Yard, doesn’t notice it. Eventually, John Watson, healer and registered medical doctor, cures it. And a beautician called Penny paints Sherlock’s toenails.

Over Cloud and Under Cloud by khorazir (T, 16,477 w., 3 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Cabin Pressure Crossover || Post-TRF, Angst, Humour, Pre-Slash, Pining) – After his Fall, Sherlock travels the world to destroy what remains of James Moriarty's criminal empire. When things don't go according to plan and he finds himself in desperate need of a discreet means of travel, cue MJN Air... Part 1 of the Over/Under series

Winter to Spring by standbygo (E, 19,416 w., 10 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post S4, Post-Nuclear War, Parenthood, Danger, BAMF Sherlock, Whump, Angst with Happy Ending) – Sherlock is babysitting Rosie when the ultimate disaster strikes London. There will be fear, there will be danger, there will be despair - but in the end, there will be love.

Divinest Sense by ChrisCalledMeSweetie (E, 25,001 w., 18 Ch. | PODFIC AVAILABLE || Alternate First Meeting, Mental Health Issues, First Kiss/Time, Coded Clues, Virgin Sherlock, Bisexual John, Slow Burn) – John has been sectioned — deemed to be a danger to himself and others — and is facing six months in an experimental psychiatric treatment facility. After his recent drug overdose, Sherlock is being shipped off by his brother to live amongst the mad, as though this will somehow improve his mental health. What will happen when these two damaged men meet under the least auspicious of circumstances?Hint: You can expect some humorous misunderstandings, burgeoning attraction, coded clues that the reader is invited to try to decipher, eventual explicit sex, and altogether more fluff than one might imagine, given the rather dark premise of this story. Part 1 of the Divinest Senses

Extraction by holmesian_love (NR, 28,594 w., 15 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-TRF/Hiatus, Kidnapped Sherlock, BAMF John, Rescue Mission) – While Mycroft spends a month working overtime to find his brother, with agents reporting back and an extraction team in place, John's world is turned upside down, after a surprise delivery shakes his foundations. He is forced back into the world of Sherlock Holmes, completely unprepared to face the consulting detective.The extraction is only the beginning for these three men as they face the consequences of past actions. Part 1 of Extraction

The Whore of Babylon Was a Perfectly Nice Girl by out_there (E, 32,897 w., 1 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Past Drug Use, Blowjobs, Toplock, Mentions of Switching, Rough Sex, Background Cases, Sherlock’s Past, Sherlock’s Sexual History, Experienced Sherlock, Past One Night Stands, Fingering, Cuddling, Possessive Sherlock, Paris Holiday, Bed Sharing, Naked Lie-Ins, Bathing Together, Confessions, Worried Sherlock, Laying in Bed All Day, Meddling Mycroft, Naked Lazy Day) – Sherlock walks into a room and takes all the space right out of it. He does the same inside John's head.

You Should Have Changed Course Long Ago by msdisdain (E, 33,235 w., 12 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Epistolary, Slow Burn, Angst, Flashbacks, Frottage, Rimming, Anal Sex, Fingering, Blow Jobs, First Time, Outdoor Sex, Light Dom/Sub, Blogging) – John realizes too late what has been in his heart all along, and flees London. But can he ever truly leave Sherlock behind?

Ride On by Silvergirl (M, 34,342 w., 9 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || TEH Divergence, Reunion, First Kiss / Time, Mutual Pining, Alternating POV, Sherlock’s Violin, Music, Original Characters, Happy Ending) – After the disastrous reveal at the Landmark, John tells Sherlock there can be no excuse for what he’s done, and no forgiveness. Sherlock leaves London and starts a new life, and not even the British Government knows where. It’s up to John to track him down and make things right, with a trip around the world and a clue only John would recognize.

Chances Are by Berty (M, 51,830 w., 14 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post TGG, POV Sherlock, Head Injury, Medical Procedures, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Mycroft Being Mycroft, Injury Recovery, Sherlock Whump, John Whump, Developing Relationship, Emotions, Revelations, Friends to Lovers, Doctor John, First Kiss/Time, Aphasia, Muteness, Feelings) – Sherlock is spending some time in his mind palace - so far, so normal. But why is John there, why do things keep changing and why are there only two exits from the sitting room at 221B, neither of which seem to go anywhere useful? It's a case like no other for Sherlock Holmes and John Watson.

Quarantine by wendymarlowe (T, 53,950 w., 200 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Coronavirus / Quarantine, John’s Blog, Asexual Sherlock, Slow Burn, Epistolary, Developing Relationship, Real Time, Case Fic) – John and Sherlock are stuck at 221B together due to coronavirus concerns. Sherlock slowly drives John barmy. [TRANSLATIONS: Русский]

Letters, Resolved by earlgreytea68 (M, 55,253 w., 14 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Tags to Be Added) – The letters have been written, read, and discussed. But that doesn't mean anything's been resolved. Yet. Part 5 of Letters [TRANSLATIONS: Русский]

Saccharomyces cerevisiae (Baker's Yeast) by yaycoffee (E, 60,879 w., 13 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Unplanned Pregnancy / One Night Stand, Drunken Sex, First Kiss/Time, Bit of Case Fic, Sally/Sherlock Drunk Sex First Ch.) – Sometimes, one makes an imprudent decision born of a devastating combination of drink and sentiment. Sometimes, the consequences of that decision take on a life of their own. And sometimes, the facing of those consequences shapes every aspect of one's life--from the hugely meaningful down to the seemingly insignificant. Part 1 of the Knows His Own series

In Memoriam by strangegibbon (E, 66,136 w., 15 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-TRF, Romance, Angst, Drama, Amnesia, Humour, Sherlock’s Violin, Sherlock in A Sheet, Blogs, Alcohol, PTSD, UST, Mystery, Hurt/Comfort, First Time, Anal Sex, Oral Sex) – Sherlock returns from his self-imposed exile to find a John Watson he barely recognises. Now he must solve the mystery of the disappeared man and try to rebuild their relationship as well as deal with his own return to a London that has forgotten him. Part 2 of the In Memoriam series

The Vapor Variant by 88thParallel (CanadaHolm) (M, 72,684 w., 18 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-THoB, John Whump, Protective Sherlock, Guilty Sherlock, Anxious/Worried Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, PTSD John, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Suspense, Virus, Sick Fic, Big Brother Mycroft) – They stood face to face in the middle of a clearing. The dim light of the moon barely allowed Sherlock to see the glassy terror in John’s eyes and the sweat that glistened off his forehead. His nose was bleeding again, blood dripping in a slow stream from his right nostril. They were both gasping for air, John’s eyes locked on Sherlock’s. There was no recognition there, just wild animal fear. Time stood still for an eternal few seconds, and Sherlock took a shaky breath. “John—”Spell broken, John spun and bolted back into the woods. Still heaving for air, Sherlock took off after him.

The Wedding Garments by cwb (E, 105,390 w., 36 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Alternate Future AU || Alternate First Meeting, Dating / Arranged Marriages, Romance, First Kiss/Time, Heavy Petting, Cuddles, POV Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn / Falling in Love / Dev. Rel., Nervous/Anxious Sherlock, Jealous/Cranky Sherlock, Hiking, Vacation Homes / Honeymoon, Sherlock’s Family, Horny John/Sherlock, Patient John, Massages, Hand Jobs, Assassination Plots, Oral Sex, Case Fic, Emotional Love Making, Bath Time Fun) – This is the story of a young consulting detective who wants nothing to do with marriage and an army doctor who wants to find true love. It's 2020 post-Brexit England and the British government is encouraging arranged marriages. Candidates meet through state-run agencies and date in hopes of finding love (and tax benefits). Sherlock doesn't need or want a spouse, at least not until John Watson shows up. Hesitant to give in to his more carnal urges because of the way they derail his mind, how will Sherlock progress toward the more intimate aspects of a relationship? The answer lies in a very special wedding gift.

Proving A Point by elldotsee & J_Baillier (E, 186,270 w., 28 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Me Before You Fusion || Medical Realism, Insecure John, Depression, Romance, Angst, POV John, Sherlock Whump, Serious Illness, Doctor John, Injury Recovery, Assisted Suicide, Sherlock’s Violin, Awkward Sexual Situations, Alcoholism, Drugs, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn, Body Image, Friends to Lovers, Hurt / Comfort, Pain, Big Brother Mycroft, Intimacy, Anxiety, PTSD, Family Issues, Psychological Trauma, John Whump, Case Fics, Loneliness, Pain) – Invalided home from Afghanistan, running out of funds and convinced that his surgical career is over, John Watson accepts a mysterious job offer to provide care and companionship for a disabled person. Little does he know how much hangs in the balance of his performance as he settles into his new life at Musgrave Court. Part 1 of the Care And Companionship series

The Case of the Green Gown by splix (E, 209,261 w., 29 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post S3, Case Fic, First Time, Action/Adventure, Angst, Peril, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Slow Burn, Torture) – ...Watson had at that time deserted me for a wife, the only selfish action which I can recall in our association. I was alone. –– Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, The Adventure of the Blanched Soldier

#johnlock fic recs #my fic recs #podfics #podfics by podfixx #fandom love #long post #podfixx

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