#if i can find it i’ll probably at least look at the table of contents to see if i recognize anything

[httpsserene]

Gosh please please please can you write something daniel x reader maybe inspired by too sweet by hozier when he thinks(some internal turmoil cuz he can't stay away from her) she's too sweet/innocent for him or something like but it turns out to be further from the truth?? I love love love your writing, i think about please's and thank you's at least three times a day since i read it. You're so immensely talented!!!

I'd really really appreciate it.

(i don't mind age gap(like up to 10years), some kinky smut or even a bit of morally grey characters as long as there are no explicit mentions of past relationships or cheating and etc., happy ending plss, and I won't mind if you add a pinch of "who did this to you")

Ly ly ly

𝖍𝖙𝖙𝖕𝖘𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖊'𝖘 2𝕶 𝕾𝖕𝖊𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖑 | 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕯𝖆𝖓𝖎𝖊𝖑 𝕽𝖎𝖈𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖗𝖉𝖔 𝕰𝖉𝖎𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓

𝐄𝐩𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐝𝐞 𝐅𝐢𝐯𝐞: 𝐓𝐒𝐀

Summary: She’s too pure for him. She hasn’t been damaged by life like he has and he hopes you never will be. So, that’s why Daniel can never allow himself to be with her. He knows she’s convinced herself that she can fix him, but he knows that the longer he sticks around, the more he’s ruining her. He finds it cynical: their relationship (or lack of a relationship) reads like one of the books she’s obsessed with: right person wrong time or forbidden love. Daniel learns that it might be a little darker of a trope—like one of her books that she never allows him to see a page of. Content Warning: 18+ only. mdni. implied sexual content. mild!yandere!reader. stalking. sabotage. angst with a happy ending. lando and max are here. not edited at all. mentioned alcoholism. pov switch. fights? idk danny gets his ass beat. possessive!reader. can you find the hozier inspo in here? probably. Pairing: daniel ricciardo x fem!reader (black-coded? but not mentioned in the fic, i think) Word Count: 2.7k words.

Author’s Notes: okay! this is past me (6/11) hoping that the tumblr queue doesn’t do me dirty! this should be posted on thursday, because i won’t be able to manually post it on my own as i’ll be hiking in san diego the whole day :p

this was formatted on mobile so please ignore how ugly it looks :( and also ignore the ugly writing i’ve never written dark/morally gray characters so i’m pretty sure i did your request like terribly LMAO. um also i couldn’t find a way to write smut into it? so again i apologize for that :/

anyways, please bare with me. i’ll make it pretty when i get back to my computer…on sunday 🥴

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Daniel meets you in the elevator. At first, he thought you were a Formula One fan who snuck into the condo trying to get a glimpse of your favorite driver (himself, obviously) but, he learned that you’re his new next-door neighbor. It was awkward; he accused you of following him to his room and felt like the world’s worst person when you—dressed in the cutest pink dress and matching flowy bow tied in your hair—stared at him terrified, before you unlocked the door to your flat and slammed the door behind you quickly without a word.

He sent you a bouquet of pink orchids the next morning, along with a hand written card apologizing for his rude behavior and that he hoped the two of you could become good neighbors and friends. It seemed all was fixed, as the next time he ran into you, you greeted him softly, like nothing had happened. It was 5 A.M: you were starting your day and Daniel was ending his night.

Daniel was on his third drunken attempt of shoving his key vaguely in the direction of his lock on the door, when you exited your flat with a yoga mat over your shoulder and a water bottle that was comically large. With a hushed ‘good morning,’ you kindly helped Daniel into his apartment, telling him to drink a big glass of water and have pain killers ready when he wakes up; there was no judgment in your wide brown eyes, only tenderness, and a slight hint of worry. He woke up after twelve at the sound of a knock, his head pulsing with pressure and his sight slightly blurry from not quite sleeping all the drunk away.

He eventually made it to his front door and found that you ordered him lunch: a chicken wrap and sweet potato chips, from one of his favorite brunch cafés—Daniel figured you have good taste, as he doesn’t recall ever telling you about this meal in either of the two interactions you’ve had. So, he ate, drank plenty of water, freshened up, and debated if he should go over and express his gratitude, or whatever. He decided he will, and found himself putting on a nice watch and a few too many sprays of his expensive smelling cologne. Daniel didn’t let any thoughts of why he was prettying himself up cross his mind; he’s simply thanking you; a girl far too young, and probably far too sweet for his tastes.

You brushed off his thanks shyly, hidden behind your door with a blush strong enough Daniel saw it paint your dimpled cheeks and he knew he wouldn’t be able to stay away. Thinking quick enough to rival his reflexes, he offered to exchange phone numbers so the two of you could meet up and he could buy you a coffee. You entered your name in his phone with a yellow heart next to it.

The coffee meet-up had to wait due to Daniel’s hectic schedule, yet the texting flourished. He initiated the beginning of your text thread the next day, mindlessly texting you about how he overheard Emilio (another neighbor) arguing with his wife on the phone; Daniel said she’s probably going to mail him divorce papers within the next week. You replied that it was mean to eavesdrop and gossip. Daniel followed up saying it’s not eavesdropping if said person was screaming into his phone in the hallway, and he wasn’t gossiping, he’s merely keeping you informed.

Daniel laughed in the middle of his motorhome listening to the voice message you sent four days later, eagerly telling him about how you saw Emilio in the lobby with a couple boxes and without a wedding ring on his finger.

It was a warm morning, when you and Daniel finally managed to meet for coffee. You scrunched your nose in distaste when he ordered plain black coffee; Daniel did the same when you ordered a drink that was mainly milk and sugar. Daniel chuckled when you claimed the amount of coffee in your drink had you wired for the rest of the day. He decided to let you believe that, and not inform you that it was most likely the sugar content that had you crashing hours later.

Daniel invited you over for burgers one night and you comment that his home looks like a mix of a “mojo dojo casa house” and a “minimalistic hell.” You gifted him a throw blanket and a potted plant the next day, and continued to text him reminders about watering it.

Around 10 P.M. on another night, he’s yelling at Max for cheating at fifa. Max laughed around the lip of his beer bottle before the two of them paused at the sound of a knock. Daniel checked the door and opened it to see you: fuzzy slippers, eye-mask on your forehead, bonnet, matching pajama set, and pout on your lips with a sleepy tilt to your eyebrows. He apologized for the noise and promised to quiet down. Daniel threatened to kick the Dutchman out when he teased him for having a “crush.” He doesn’t get crushes, he’s a grown man.

Daniel spends less time in night clubs and more time with you. You took him to sip and paint nights, pottery classes, hiking, even bookstores. You order him to not open any of the books he’s holding for you; Daniel tries to take a peek when you scan through one and you slam the book shut, saying it’s too dark for your liking. He doesn’t comment when you end up getting it (Daniel paid).

He kissed you in your apartment, halfway through Howl’s Moving Castle. He proceeded to tell you it was a mistake. You teared up when he said you were too pure for him, arguing back that you weren’t a child. The tears fell when Daniel claimed he’s too old for you, that he’d only hurt you. He returned to his apartment, figurative tail tucked between his legs, and heard you crying through the wall. He fell asleep hating himself.

Daniel distanced himself from you; he misses your shared adventures and condo gossip, but he never forgets to water your potted plant, even without your texts. He fell back into the clubs, bringing home various women but never manages to get them in bed due to various things going wrong. He gets stuck in the elevator with Stephanie who happened to claustrophobic for hours, locked in the stairwell with Sofia who sprains her ankle in five-inch heels, the fire-alarm interrupts him and Kiana just as he unlocks the door, and his kitchen sink burst when he lifted Laura on the counter.

He tries to console Laura, who runs from his flat in drenched clothes, and sees you staring at her in confusion from your doorway as she rushes past. Daniel apologizes for waking you again, and you shrug, ignoring his words, murmuring that he should call maintenance before he floods the entire floor and shutting your door in his face.

Your potted plant starts to wilt, no matter if Daniel moves it in or out of direct sunlight, if he waters it less or more, or if he changes the soil, or adds fertilizer. The universe has it out for Daniel.

He finds himself in an ultra-private lounge, dim-lighting, sultry piano, and dark decor enhancing his dramatics as he reveals how he ruined his life to Max, Lando, and the bartender who will be tipped handsomely for pretending to care. The piano fades to the end of the piece just as Daniel wraps up his lament.

“It sounds like you deserve it, honestly,” Max stated bluntly, Lando nodding agreeably at his side.

Daniel groans into his hands, lifting his head to say that he’s already aware of that, but freezes when he sees you rise from the seat of the piano. Your figure is snug within a floor length, backless, black dress, complemented with gold jewelry, and makeup that opposes your angelic nature. You bow your head slightly in the direction of the tables clapping at your performance, stumbling briefly when your eyes meet Daniel’s. You smile softly and begin to make your way over to him.

“Oh, fuck,” Daniel shrinks into his seat, as the other two drivers stare at him in confusion.

“Hi, neighbor,” you start airily, before turning to smile at Lando and Max, “Hello.”

“You didn’t tell me you worked here,” Daniel mentions.

“You never asked,” you narrow your eyes at him, before relaxing, “I also don’t work here—this is my brother’s bar. The pianist suddenly fell sick and I offered to fill in.”

“Oh,” Daniel hums, “This doesn’t seem like your type of scene.”

You snort, rolling your eyes, “You should know better than to tell me where, what, or who I do or do not belong with.”

“Okay!” Lando claps, kicking Daniel’s shin under the table, everyone ignores his muffled groan of pain, “Sit with us for a minute, if you can take a break. Danny is seriously obsessed with you.”

You take the offered chair next to Max and sigh, “Really? I couldn’t tell,” all three men wince at your dig, but you continue, “Did he tell you that he almost flooded the entire floor last week?”

Daniel watches as you charm his friends, the three of you chattering happily over his demise, and ignoring him as you do so. He can’t find it in himself to be annoyed, only thankful, as this is the first time in weeks that you’ve been in his presence for more than five minutes. You smell so good. Is that weird of Daniel to think?

Unfortunately, the four of you are interrupted far too soon. Your brother calls you over from behind the bar; his expression is less than pleased, jaw tensed with irritation, and Daniel thinks the look in his eyes has a hint of crazy. He wonders if you told your brother about him. Hopefully not—the man looks like he could fold Daniel like a lawn chair without breaking a sweat. The three men watch as you argue with your brother; it doesn’t seem like it’s going in your favor.

Lando calls Daniel’s name, “Mate—she’s good for you.”

“Nah, mate. I’ll only ruin her.”

“Daniel,” Max scolds, “The few months you were ditching us for her were the happiest I’ve seen you. I wasn’t worried that you would be passed out in a random club or yacht after giving yourself alcohol poisoning.”

“She’s sweet, Danny. I think she’s exactly what you need,” Lando adds, “You've convinced yourself that you don’t deserve anything good. She’s trying to prove you wrong and you need to let her.”

He doesn’t answer verbally, he chooses to shake his head and remain silent. You make your way over to the table again and stand in front of them with a pout.

“It’s past my bedtime, apparently,” you huff, turning your head to glare at your brother, “Don��t worry about paying tonight, it’s on the house.” You exchange polite goodbyes with Lando and Max, Daniel gets a soft smile. He watches you leave the bar with a sad tilt to his lips, then orders a shot of whiskey.

You’re sat on your couch, freshly showered and ready for bed. It’s 1 A.M. and Daniel usually doesn’t end his nights out for another hour. So, it makes sense for you to be worried when you see his location nearing your shared condo building an hour early. Did you sneakily (his phone password is his birthday, it wasn’t that hard) use his phone and share his own location with you? Yes. But, you did it with good intentions. You worry about him when he’s not with you.

You decide to go down to the lobby and pretend to ask if you received any packages in hopes of intercepting Daniel when he walks in. You don’t manage to step out of the elevator when you suddenly have an armful of a bruised-up Australian. His lip is busted and you can see a bruise blooming high on his right cheekbone. You start to shake with anger.

Furiously pressing the button of your floor and slamming the ‘close door’ button, you frantically question Daniel, “What the hell? I left you not even two hours ago, and you look like a mess. Did you get into a fight, did you get mugged, did you—“

“Did your brother beat my ass for hurting you?” Daniel groans, not fighting your motions as you tug him out of the elevator and into your flat, “Yes, he did.”

You pause and grumble angrily, forcing Daniel to take a seat on your couch. You rush into your kitchen for ice, then to the bathroom for a first aid kit. He doesn’t fight when you order him to ice his cheek, and lets you hold his face to tilt his head at every angle possible, as if it’ll expose any more damage. Eventually, you end up looking into his eyes, pretending that you have the knowledge to know what a possible concussion looks like, even though you really just wanted an excuse to look at him.

Unconsciously, your thumb rubs soothingly along his temple, Daniel leans further into your hand. His tongue flicks out for a brief second, and he flinches when it disturbs the cut on his bottom lip. Blinking rapidly, you clear the haze from your eyes and frown as you turn to rifle through the first aid kit.

“I can’t believe he put his hands on you,” you bite out angrily, finding a disinfectant cloth to clean his lip, “I don’t know why I tell him anything anymore.”

Daniel winces at the sting of alcohol, remaining quiet as he watches the focus that covers your expression.

“I apologize for him,” you mumble, “He doesn’t think clearly when it comes to me, he thinks he’s like my guard dog or something,” you dispose of the wipe and grab an ointment, “I promise you I told him that the only thing you did was waste my time and hurt my feelings,” Daniel deflates under your hands, “It’s not like you physically hurt me…or anything. He’s just an idiot. I’ll kill him.”

At that, Daniel laughs quietly, dropping the ice from his cheek so you can clean that too, “Don’t say that. You’re such a sweetheart, you couldn’t hurt your own brother. Also—I’m not sure if he hoped this would make me stay away from you, because if you keep rubbing my face like that, I might fall in love.”

You hum, pleased you have him eating out of the palm of your hand, “Have some decorum, Daniel. You sound desperate. Also, he knows that I don’t like people touching what’s mine.”

“Oh? You’re possessive,” Daniel teases, “Is it bad if I kinda like that?”

Your heart flutters, he’s really the best for you. He doesn’t need to know about the lengths you went to ensure any of the girls he tried to bring home didn't make it into his bed. It's a shame Sofia sprained her ankle; that was not intentional on your part.

You shrug lightly, “No, it’s not bad. I think it makes you perfect for me. As long as you don’t mind a little crazy. And—don’t think you’re off the hook. You still have to apologize for making me cry.”

Daniel nods seriously, “I’ll fall to my knees and beg right now, if that’s what it takes.”

Sticking a plaster over his cheek, you stand and gesture for him to do so too, “Okay. Kneel.”

“Huh,” he chokes, eyes wide with disbelief, “You’re serious?”

“If you beg well enough, I’ll let you eat me out.”

The sound of his knees hitting the floor echoes.

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© httpsserene2024

[gorejo]

▸ BROKEN PIECES. — GETO SUGURU.

summary: spiraling in his intrusive thoughts, the chaos in his mind eating away at his sanity, you're there to catch him — to prove to him that he's worth the bet of saving... because he's always done that for you.

content: reverse comfort. very light angst. reader is mentioned as geto’s girlfriend. in a world where someone is there for suguru before he spirals )) : minimal cursing. emotional geto. this was more so for me when i wrote this, but sharing is caring ~

They say soul ties link two people. A bond beyond a dimension of reality, connecting them as one in emotion and spirit. 

Maybe that’s why the phrase goes, soul ties are dangerous, so be careful who you give your soul. 

It wasn’t long before you noticed these subtle changes. He swears he’s been mindful to not reveal this side to you.

But again, soul ties are dangerous — there are no secrets when you fall into the abyss together. At least one of you would be there to carry the other. 

“You’re doing it again,” you softly muttered, putting down his morning coffee, the cup lightly clinking against the glass table, the sound radiating loudly in the quiet room. you gently run your finger against his forearm, hearing his slight hum of a thank you as you quietly take a seat next to him on the couch.  

Confused as he looked up, about to answer knowingly, only to quickly replace his stoic face with a facade, “Doing what?” he chuckled — the one where his eyes would become like crescent moons, yet the shallow depth of his smile gave it away.

“You’re in your head right now, no?” You questioned, doing your best to look into his eyes — to connect, to be there with him, to let him know… that you were there to carry him through, to never let him fall — and even if he did, you’ll still be there to catch him.

Pushing his bangs out of his forehead, he spread out his legs to give a little stretch. “No, just spacing out baby,” he let out as he reached over to bring you closer to his side, “nothing to worry about, sweetheart,” he muttered, as he nuzzled his nose to your cheek.

“it's probably because I wasn’t able to sleep too well through your snoring last night,” he laughed, trying to lighten the mood.

In truth, you would find Suguru oftentimes awake during the quiet hours of the day, when no one else was awake but him, lonesomely spacing out as he looked outside the window, his dark eyes empty and lost as if he searched for a greater purpose, or as if he was searching for a saving grace through it all.

You’ve noticed Suguru spending a bit longer in the shower, the bags under his eyes getting a bit darker. The once shine of his hair was now replaced with dull, tangled strands, and the gentle smile on his face — the one that made you fall in love with him — was muted now with a tired look as he forced himself to be who he wasn’t anymore. 

And you knew, you can feel it without him having to explain, he hated it — he hated himself for it. 

“I won’t push you, Suguru,” with tears starting to brim at your eyelids, doing your best to stay strong because it wasn’t your moment, “I just want you to know that I’ll always love you.” 

And reaching over, as you searched for his eyes, asking for permission to touch him, only to lean in to give him a small kiss to his jaw when you see — no, feel — his body starting to relax, the tightness of his shoulder unraveling as you felt the pent up exhaustion in his mind starting to spill, “but let me in sometimes, let me carry you for a bit.”

Surely, soul ties are dangerous because everything hurt and it hurt you more to know that he carried this all alone till now. 

“You can’t say that,” Geto abruptly stated with gritted teeth, refusing to look at your pleading gaze, “don’t say shit like that so easily, not when I’m like this.”

“And what’s wrong with who you are now?” You warmly confronted, your heart softening up to your boyfriend's vulnerability, “You’ve done it for me, no?”

That’s right, Geto’s been there — he’s been through it all with you and for you. 

He’s been there in every season, like a silent pillar that you rested on whenever you needed love and security, and without speaking a word, without needing anything in return, he simply loved you through it all.

He was your saving grace.

“It’s not the same… I- I can do that for you,” His gaze slowly turned to you, lips trembling as his tired eyes were now honest and transparent, only for him to quickly avoid your gaze again like a guilty criminal, “You’re… you’re different from me.”

“How so?” You questioned, slowly prying him open as you softly pulled his chin to face you again, “You don’t trust me?”

Shaking his head in disagreement, “I do…” taking a moment to compose himself, “You’re worth saving,” Geto quietly confessed.

“Bingo,” you cheekily smiled, lightly pinching his sunken cheeks, “I am.”

“So just leave it alone —”

Interjecting him, lightly pushing the furrow of his brows with your finger, “You showed me that I am,” you admitted while combing through his hair while your other hand tried to loosen his tight grip. 

“You showed it when you held me at my lowest, you proved it to me when I least believed that I was deserving of love. You countered all odds and healed me,” intertwining your fingers with his as the other cupped his face, “you were the one that carried me through my worst, taking my pain as yours.”

You felt him melt into your palm, the heat of your hand giving him a sense of security that he tried to cling onto for his last measure, “So let me show you that you’re worth it for me,” you confessed.

And before you saw the drop of his tear threatening to fall, Geto led you up onto his thighs, his head leaning back against the sofa, his neck resting against the edge with his dark locks falling as he closed his eyes with furrowed brows, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, and I’m fucking scared,” his grip on your thighs tightening as he stuffed down a sob.

Leaning your head against his chest to hear his beating heart, “What are you so scared of, Suguru? Tell me, what can scare the Geto Suguru, my strong, dependable, and pretty boyfriend?” 

"Seeing your ugly cries that make me love you more," Suguru half-heartedly joked.

"what else?" you hummed.

"And when your snot gets all over my clothes," Geto continued with his chest vibrating with his soft voice.

"mhm, but you said I was still pretty though," you pouted.

"You are... you're so so pretty," confessing as his voice started to shake, "but I- I'm —"

Instead of continuing, Geto chose to stay quiet. And though his lips were unmoving, the rhythm of his breathing juxtaposed his silence as you felt his body lightly shake, but you continued.

"tell me, love. what are you feeling in here?" you whispered, pointing to his heart as you lightly kissed his chest, soaking in his unraveling.

Lowly groaning with his forearm around his eyes, the vein on the thickness of his neck highlighted as his Adam’s apple bobbed while swallowing his spit, “I’m so terrified that I’ve lost myself too much…” his soft lashes slightly coated with tears while his nose mildly flared, “too much to the point that I’ll lose you too,” Geto whispered — as if he was afraid it would become true if he said it any louder.

And with his confession, you moved his arm from his face, and seeing his eyes coated with tears, your boyfriend never looked more handsome. In his vulnerability, in his raw emotional state, a grace he’s never shown to many, you couldn’t help but fall in love with him even more.

“Even if you’re spacing out, even if you think it’s nothing,” caressing his face as you gently kissed his tired eyes, feeling a droplet and another of his tears fall against your cheeks, finding the courage to uplift his burdens even for a moment as you find his arms tightening around your waist, soaking in the comfort of your embrace.

“even if think you’ve lost yourself, I’ll always pick up all your broken pieces and piece them back together…” you promised.

And uncaring of the tears that started to spill from your heavy lids, vision blurry as you felt your pulse increasing, you let them fall to pool at his black cotton shirt.

“... I want to know what’s going on in this pretty head, Suguru” you confessed as you placed a tender kiss on his forehead, pushing away the strands of his hair as you gently combed through the tangles, “the messy, the dirty, the naughty, the whatnots that keep you up at night. my boyfriend’s too pretty to be hurting like this, you know? I won’t allow it.” 

Using humor as his comfort, loosening up the tension as he welcomed you into his mess, “damn, I can't have you ugly cry now and ruin my shirt,” he chuckled, wiping your tears with a kiss.

And matching his forehead with yours, his voice softly trembling while his hands carefully moved to cup your face, his thumb grazing your lips as he reached in closer to seal his mildly chapped lips with yours — a connection pure and simple that would bring light into his darkened reality. His saving grace slowly chipping off the chains of his dysphoria, “I love you so fucking much, angel… ”

“... save me,” Geto confessed.

And in your arms, Geto Suguru breaks, finally letting down his shackles in the reign of your mercy.

[himbofan4444]

“Another day…” I say to myself as I walk through the parking garage. The is air still damp from the rainstorm yesterday. I look around. The garage is oddly vacant. Perhaps I’d come in when the buildings closed again. Determined to finish the day and get home quickly, I trudge past the puddles and cigarette butts. “God it’s freezing,” I say to myself, shivering.

I look around again. I’m used to a long walk to the stairs but today’s feels… really long. I can’t see my car but that’s all thanks to the thick fog that has been settled in town for a few days. I can’t see the stairwell either. The only thing I can see is the fog surrounding me. I sigh and continue my trek forwards, unsure if I’m even moving forwards anymore.

After a few more minutes of walking, I stumble upon an odd sight. In front of me is a shopping booth, something I’ve never seen the liking of before here. A faint concoction of aromas reach my nose: a strange mix of perfume, wood, leather, and some other implacable scents. At the booth stands a broad man. On the table, there are a variety of brightly colored liquids contained in erlenmeyer flasks. The man waves me over, a toothy grin across his dark, bearded face.

“Well hello there fine fellow! How can I help ya?” the man asks. His voice is gravelly and deep, the kind of voice that makes you weak in the knees.

“Oh, I’m not interested in buying anything, sir. I’m just trying to find the stairs,” I respond.

The man lets out a hearty laugh, “Please, call me Rohan! And I insist. I’ll even give you a hefty discount.”

I eye the flasks, taking in the colorful liquids. Each is bubbling and emanates an odd warmth, much preferable over the freezing air of the rest of the parking garage. “So, what are they?” I ask.

“Oh, just some herbal remedies. They’re very common in holistic medicine,” Rohan says, lifting up to of the flasks. “Would you like one, sir?”

“Oh I’m not sure if I should. I’ve tried these things before and they haven’t… agreed with me,” I say, letting out a small chuckle.

“Don’t you worry about that, sir. These are all natural. I insist, try one. Here,” Rohan picks up a pink one and holds it out for me. I reluctantly grab it and give him a half-smile. “That’ll be $5, sir,” Rohan says as he holds out his large palm. I search through my wallet and find a crumpled up $5 bill and hand it to him. He smiles and says with a certain satisfaction, “Have a lovely day, sir!”

I walk off with the flask in hand, still unsure of where the stairs are. I check my phone for the time. Shit! I’m late! I briskly walk through the parking garage but to no avail. I’m still lost. At least until I see my car. Damnit! I just walked in a big circle! Exhausted and angry, I get in my car and sit down. The car is almost as cold as outside, a small remnant of the heating still present. I start the car, deciding to head home.

Before I can put my foot on the gas pedal, my gaze drifts down to the flask in the passenger’s seat. “I should probably drink that…” I say to myself. I reach down and grab it, bringing the beverage to my lips. It smells like perfume. I lift the flask, the contents of which pouring into my mouth and down my throat. It’s almost unbearably sweet. So much so that it’s almost bitter. There’s also a strange salty aftertaste. I cough and drink from my water bottle, the flavor lingering in my mouth.

I drive home in silence, allowing myself to be bitter about today’s events as of now. As I drive home, I notice an odd, unfamiliar tingling in my butt. I itch it but it doesn’t help. “Maybe I just worked legs a little too hard yesterday,” I say with a shrug. Soon, my whole body feels tingly, almost numb. My work clothes begin to feel a bit tight on my body, specifically my pants. I’m sure I grabbed the larger size I have but maybe I didn’t. This morning was quite hectic after all. I shrug off the odd occurrence and continue my drive home.

On the way home, I pass a Starbucks and turn into the parking lot. I usually don’t buy such frivolous things, but I’d already bought that horrible drink so why not? As I walk inside, I notice a strange quality to my walking. Usually I have a quite confident strut but that has been replaced by something almost like a waddle. Odd.

Once inside, I’m finally warm. The warmth of the store is so refreshing. Before ordering, I sit at a table by the window. Sitting here feels weird. I’m not used to this amount of cushioning on these chairs but maybe I misjudged them. I take off my winter coat, setting it on the high top table in front of me. I catch a glimpse of my arms in my tight dress shirt sleeves. Jesus! I’ve always been in shape but I’ve NEVER been this big. I flex a small bit, blushing at my public flexing session. Damn, the gym’s been doing me good recently.

A short blonde barista walks over to me. She’s very cute but my still bitter attitude puts a damper on my lustful looks. She pulls out a notepad and a pencil, “Would you like anything sir?”

“Oh no-“ I clear my throat. My voice sounds less deep than normal for some reason. “I mean, sure. Could I have a vanilla latte?” Why did I order that? I always order black coffee, never that girl shit. The barista smiles and nods, writing my order down, “Got it. Is that all?”

“Yes ma’am,” I respond. Handing her the money for the beverage.

She walks off, immediately going to make my drink. I rub my throat. Why do I still sound so weird? She comes back over, my drink in hand. “Here you go sir,” she says, “Oh and by the way, I love your hair. Blonde is so your color. You look fabulous.” She walks away to serve other customers.

What? Blonde? I’m not blonde. I’ve always had brown hair. And… fabulous? Who does she think I am? One of those queers? Does my hair really look blonde to her? I pull out my phone and look at myself in the selfie camera. Jesus! My hair IS blonde! And it looks… curly. What the hell happened?! And my face… It looks off. Something is uncanny about it. I look like myself but also not… Like my lips look bigger and so do my eyes. My eyebrows look a bit neater than they should and my stubble is shorter than normal.

I get down from the stool, ready to leave and deal with this weird stuff at home. As I walk out, I feel a strange jiggling in my rear. I crane my neck around my shoulder to see what was going on with my butt. Holy shit! My ass is huge! I run out to my car, my big fat ass jiggling like crazy as I run. I quickly drive home.

Once inside, I strip off my damp clothes to assess the damage. My muscles do look bigger than normal, especially my pecs. They look like fucking tits. Jesus, they’re huge. My ass is enormous, any movement causing it to jiggle wildly. And that tingling in my ass still hasn’t gone away. I look like a poster fag. Like the dictionary definition of a faggot. Fuck…

I go up to my room and find a cardboard box on my bed. After opening it, I see a huge pink dildo and a pink jockstrap, both the same color as the drink. The dildo is easily a foot long. I shiver in disgust looking at the items. An odd feeling comes from my ass. My ass is tingling worse than before, specifically directly in my asshole. God I just wanna shove that dildo up my ass… No! I can’t be thinking like a fag! Looking like one is bad enough!

I shove the grotesque items back into the box and chuck the box across the room. I look at myself in the mirror, hesitantly touching my pouty lips. They feel almost numb, as if they aren’t real. Come to think of it… I feel my pecs and my ass, both having the same numb tingling. Oh my god…

My body stiffens up, my back arched, showing off my large muscle tits and fake fuckable ass. Goddamn why am I thinking like that? Against my will, my buff arms reach up and turn my baseball cap, which had gone from a cream color to a black and pink one, backwards. It’s like a switch got flipped. My brain goes from active and agile to slow and dull. MY thoughts become more lustful and… gay.

Damn, I wish Rohan fucked me earlier. He like totally has a huge dick. I pout, crossing my arms across my inflated chest. My heads turns, facing the discarded box. My body prances over to the box and extracts the faggy… I mean sexy things. I pull the pink jockstrap over my big round ass, doing a few hops to see my bubble butt bounce in the elastic material. I snatch up the massive dildo and lay in my bed, my thick beefy legs spread out. My body instinctively shoves the dildo as far up my ass as it can.

My hole feels oddly loose despite the lack of penetration it’s received. My brain pushes those thoughts into the garbage, conjuring up new memories of me being fucked by hoards of men, each hung like a horse and concerningly aggressive. I let out shrill, feminine moans with each thrust of the toy. Each thrust causes my room and house to become more pink and slutty looking. My wardrobe emptying of my work clothes and instead having pink slutty outfits. My bed begins vibrating, my old bed replaced with a vibrating one.

I cum out of my shrunken cock, my small load leaving me gasping for air. I’ve never felt this much pleasure in my whole life! I sit on my knees in front of the full length mirror in my room and take a picture for my Daddies.

This is me now, a stupid, horny, bouncy slut for any man who’ll take me in for the night.

[lamb-of-seven]

Head-Canons for the Demon Brothers 4

Prompt: You Catch Them Masturbating

!!Minors and Ageless Do Not Interact!!

Content Warning: Very Suggestive. Discussions of Kinks and Sexual Fantasies. Descriptions of Masturbation.

It’s Sunday Smut-Day! So here is anouther HC of the Obey Me Demon Brothers. Enjoy!

Also I wrote this late at night and I do not feel like proof reading and editing it. I got work in the morning lol.

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Lucifer: My personal head canon is that Lucifer doesn’t often masturbate. I think he is a mix of too exhausted and too prideful to pleasure himself alone. However on the rare occasion he finds himself in the mood, I picture he primarily masturbates in the shower. To him its both more convenient and less messy, so he won’t have to waist time with clean up. Catching him in the act is nearly impossible. There is not simple, oops you walked in moment. Instead the only way you end up catching him in the act is either deliberately on his part or on your part.  

One late night after a long week where Lucifer had gone on a major punishment rampage of HoL and all it’s inhabitants, some of the brothers (Satan, Belphie mostly) had dragged you into a scheme to mess with Lucifer. It started off rather innocent, after all you had to shoot down some of the brothers more dramatic plans. You were going to help by taking advantage of Lucifer while he was vulnerable and in the shower. You sneak into his room as instructed, with the devised paint bomb Satan told you to hide. While you creeped around his bedroom looking for the perfect spot to plant it, you hear Lucifers voice saying your name from the bathroom. You nearly jumped out of your skin, so sure he has sensed you somehow sneaking around his room. Before you could answer, you heard him calling your name again, more husky and deep this time, it sent shivers down your spine. It was commanding and frighting but exhilarating the same. You waited a bit now outside the bathroom door, waiting for him to appear, but he didn’t. You pressed your ear to the door and could hear the water in his shower still running. “mmh, MC, yes, just like that. Good Human. Know your place.” Your knees felt week as you listened to Lucifer’s voice moan. Is he… is he…oh god I can’t even say it in my head! You think to yourself, your face turning a bright red. You suddenly hear him grunting a bit louder and faster, knowing what was coming next. Complete shocked, aroused and a bit humiliated, you dash out of his room, still clutching the paint bomb. You ran past Satan and Belphie stuttering about how you won’t do it and locked yourself in your room.

Mammon: He’s such a Simp for MC, a partier, and some of his lines when you touch him are suggestive, no one can tell me he doesn’t jack off at least once a week. In my head cannon, Mammon prefers to masturbate in his room, but he’s greedy and impulsive so I could see him quickly pleasing himself in the Bathroom at RAD after having some naughty intrusive thoughts, especially about MC. Catching him in the act is almost too easy, and has probably happened more than once.

One night Mammon was chilling on his bed, completely nude and tossing and turning among his blankets trying to sleep. He was getting more and more frustrated as time passed, his cock semi hard and his mind racing. Ugh whatever, I’ll try jackin’ off. Maybe that will get me tired. Mammon simply laid on his back, his head resting into his plush pillows and blankets completely tossed off of him. One hand wrapped around his thick member as he slowly stroked it and rubbed the tip a bit with his thumb. His other hand scrolled threw some porno videos on his go too sight, and while they peaked some of his interest, he was struggling to get himself worked up. Mammon glanced around before bringing up a secret video/photo album on his phone. It was a collection of videos and pictures of you in poses or doing things he found erotic, like you bending over his pool table, or the time you all went to the beach together and he got to see you half naked. If you or anyone found out he had these photos he would be dead. He felt his cock start to pulsate and twitch as he watched one of his videos of you on the beach, sprawled out on the sand. He imagined what it would be like to fully undress you and tease you with his fingers tongue and cock. His strokes were becoming more erratic and his breath mixed with heavy pants and grunts. And that’s when you opened his bedroom door shouting, “Mammon, have you seen my…” You got a full view of Mammon, sweating, fully nude with his erection gripped hard in his hands. After a second that felt like a frozen eternity, Mammon shrieked, throwing his phone and covering himself with his blankets. You shriek back with multiple apologies, racing out of his room and slamming the door behind you. Mammon didn’t come out of his room for a week, which is completely not like him, even Lucifer was concerned.

Leviathan: There is no way around it, this boy is a shut in otaku who is so touches starved but too shy to ask, and wants someone to love him (and dominate him). My head canon that I think most of the Obey Me fandom can agree, he’s horny and masturbates a lot. Most likely he has a collection of Henti and toys (Not as much as Asmodeus, but a good amount).

Right in the middle of the day Levi was sitting in his gaming chair was such a throbbing boner that he couldn’t concentrate at all on his game. It was his turn to do laundry this morning, but you had left your clothing in the dryer overnight. He swears his actions were innocent. He wanted to make you happy, so he took you laundry out for you and started folding it, when he saw them. Your underwear. And not just any underwear, these were made of black silk, so soft and sexy. Since that moment Levi has not stopped picturing them on you, how they would softly pinch into your skin, making that cute slight pudge by your hips. T hey way your ass would look in them. The way the black silk would cling to your sex. He couldn’t take it. He abandoned his game and quickly pulled his pants and underwear down a bit to free his member. His cock sprung to life, the tip dripping with precum. He imagined your voice calling him a pervert. A blush formed across his face. He was so aroused that he didn’t even grab on of his toys or even any lube, instead he wrapped his fingers around his member and started to pump. His toes were up on his desk, gripping and curling, while his other hand gripped the top of the chair next to his head. He bit his lip, as he started to think about you straddling him in the underwear, calling him all kinds of nasty names, maybe even running your hands on his body, and licking him. Maybe if he was good you would let him put it in you? Maybe if he begged. Levi started to pump himself very fast now, huffing, and whining and moaning, his hips rutting into his hand as well, his orgasm approaching fast. “Hey Levi wanna play that new game you….” You entered his room without a thought since his door was unlocked. You knew you were suppose to knock and say the password but you were just so excited and now you knew why. The moment Levi’s eyes met with yours he couldn’t stop himself, his orgasm crashed down on him as his moaned/ nearly yelled your name, as ribbons of white exploded out of his cock, covering his body in his own fluids. Levi couldn’t remember the last time he had cummed so hard. However clarity settled in too fast as he screeched, sobbed and fell out of his chair trying to get his pants back on. You yelled out your apologies as you ran down the hall back to your own room. Levi was mortified. He, like Mammon, also stayed in his room, however for him it was well over a month. He couldn’t even say your name, and any attempt you made to interact would be ignored. It took him a while and a lot of work on your end for him to move past this.

Satan: Personally I don’t see him masturbating that much. I think he prefers an intimate interaction of self pleasuring, but that doesn’t mean he never does it. When he does its almost always after reading a really smutty scene in a book. I don’t think he uses any toys and prefers it to be in the comfort of his own room.

Satan had started a new book recently where the main love interest was described similarly to you. Sometimes he would even catch himself reading the characters name as your name, as the words came to life in his mind it was as if he was reading a wonderful love story between the two of you. And tonight he was reading a rather thrilling chapter where the two characters finally become intimate with each other. As Satan’s eyes hungerly read the page, he couldn’t help but notice his hips squirming, his bulge becoming more apparent, and desiring some friction. His one hand starts to rub his cock through his pants. As the chapters starts to vividly describe the characters fighting for their climax, he pictured both of you in that scenario, and the slight rubbing was not enough. He unzipped his pants, letting his cock swell in his hand and began stroking himself, never taking his eyes off his book. His breath coming out in pants as the characters get cloer like himself. He didn’t hear your knocks. You entered his room, just peaking your head in calling his name. He was reading on the couch and jumped when he heard your voice. Satan tried to loudly talk about anything while he stuffed himself back into his pants and hoped you didn’t hear him zip them back up. However when he saw your blushing face, he knew that you had caught him. It made his heart quicken and blush color his face as well. “I’m sorry, I see your busy I’ll go.” You say and quickly left his room before he could even tell you to stop. Unlike Mammon and Levi, he was only a bit embarrassed. He didn’t hide in his room at all. He actually found it a bit thrilling and erotic that you caught him.  

Asmodeus: My head canon is that he purposely leaves his door unlocked or even open when he is masturbating. He is proud of his body and wants everyone too see him, sometimes hoping for someone to join in with him. Catching him is too easy. He’s the personification of lust so he uses everything and anything.  

The first time you catch him is on a regular school day in the afternoon. Asmodeus was admiring himself in the mirror, his new skin care products made his skin look absolutely flawless over his entire body. As he stripped out of his uniform he couldn’t help but feel a bit aroused by the feel of his own body. His cock was already twitching and standing erect by the time his pants were off. His fingers slowly and erotically rand up and down his thighs hips and belly, sending shivers through out his body. If only MC would come join me and admire my beauty right now. His inability to charm you was a sore spot for him but thrilling to imagine that moment he wins you over. He imagines with on your knees, completely undressed for him, simply wide eyes as you marvel at his perfect body. Asmo closes his eyes and imagines all these touches come from your hands. Asmo reached for his sensual body lubricant as on of his many stimulating toys. He laid down in front of his mirror, going between glancing at himself and closing his eyes to imagine the two of you getting intimate together. His hands stroked his member sensually while the other used the toy on his most sensitive spot. He whined and moaned out. That’s when he heard a knock on the door and knew it was your knock. “Come in MC, Perfect timing.” Asmo said with a panting breath. You walk in thinking everything was normal, and let out a large gasp as you see Asmo on the floor filled with ecstasy. “I was hoping you would join me MC.” Your heart is racing and face is on fire at the sight and offer. However you reject it by stammering and leaving his room, unable to say a single cohesive sentence. Though it hurt Asmo’s ego that you didn’t stay was him, he took your cute shyness as a compliment and continued to imagine it was he climaxed. You’re the one at dinner later that night who can’t seem eat there food and was incredible distracted while Asmo kept giggling as he teased you.

Beelzebub: I feel like Beels Horniness is not that low but not that high. He’s like right in the middle. I think when he does feel aroused he typically masturbates. He’s the Himbo of the group and we love him for that, so I find he is super simple minded about things. For example, I feel hungry, so I eat. He feels horny so he jacks off. It’s just as simple as that. He likes his privacy so he will do it in places where he is alone like his room when Belphie isn’t there or the shower.

One day when Belphie was napping in the attack, Beel returned to his empty room after practice. He was already showered but still felt so achy and exhausted. He laid on his bed to take a quick nap and ended up in a very deep sleep. He was happy though because he was able to dream of you and the two of you were walking through a beautiful forest where everything was edible. You had gotten covered in rare sweet honey and allowed Beel to lick it off of you. In the dream Beel found your skin very tasty with the honey and you let him take off your clothing and cover you in more honey to lick. Beel got to kiss and lick new places on you and started to feel very excited. Even in his dream he could feel how hard and needy his cock was feeling. You had pushed Beel down and drizzled honey on his member and now you were licking him. The excitement of the dream resulted in Beel waking up from his sleep, his cock throbbing and wet with precum. Beel closed his eyes savoring in his dream as his strong hands wrapped around his thick member and pumped it to the same rhythm of your mouth in his dream. Beel let out low grunts and clenched his teeth as his continued to pleasure himself. “Oh Beel I’m glad your back I was just…” You were so used to safely walking into the twins room that you never bothered knocking. You let out of squeak when you realized when Bell was doing. Beel immediately stopped and sat up straight in bed, his face red and his words simple stutters. You both start apologizing. As you turn to leave you promise to knock next time. Beel was left to sit in bed debating if he should continue or if the moment passed and he should get a snack. I think he would have a hard time making eye contact for a good week. Until you both share a meal together and hes back to normal.

Belphegor: I fully believe he’s someone who will slowly jack off and half the time never finish before he either loses interest or falls asleep. I also thing that when he does fully masturbate, it’s if he can’t sleep and needs something to exhaust him, or he does it in his sleep when having a very vivid dream. Boy has more wet dreams than anyone. Catching him in the act is rare simply because it’s rare that he does it.

However on this particular night, Belphie was having such a hard time sleeping. He had been resting a lot recently since school was on break and now he was laying in his bed listening to Beel snore as time ticked on. Maybe a change of scenery would help. Belphie crept through the halls of HoL. He passed your room, noticing the door was slightly opened. He peeked in to see you soundly sleeping. He noticed half your body was uncovered, and your were sleeping in only year underwear. Belphie chuckled to himself, and closed your door. He moved on to the attic and got himself comfortable. As he closed his eyes, he noticed that the image of your near naked body wouldn’t leave his mind and his member started to twitch. Seriously Belphie whispered to himself. He tried to ignore it but he couldn’t and now he found himself fully erect. Belphie sighed and flipped onto his back. While under the covers he started to slowly pump his cock as it throbbed and tingled. Belphie bit on his covers as he started to picture you sleeping peacefully. A blush formed on his cheeks at the thought of him possibly entering your dreams and playing with your body, teasing you mercilessly. His pace quickened and he began to moan a little, his eyes shut tight. He didn’t hear your foot steps or see you enter the attack until he heard you gasp a little. He slowed his pace but never stopped and opened his eyes to see you wearing a robe. “I thought you were looking for me when you stopped by my room before ah, anyway I’m sorry I didn’t mean too..” You were a nervous mess and Belphie liked it. “You should be. This is all your fault MC.” You blush, and your stomach flutters. Belphie laughs a little as he sees your face. Your turn and run away. Now you’re the one whos too shy to make eye contact with him and avoid him and his endless teasing.

[arlana-likes-to-write]

I Do

Part 2 of Marry Me

Summary: It's your wedding day and as you are getting ready you can't help but remember how you got to this point. But sometimes even on the happiest days, anxiety can be the biggest enemy.

Note: italicized sections are flashbacks

Warning: Angst with Fluff, dirty talk, almost office sex but getting caught, mention of death, toxic past relationships, panic attacks, drinking

Word count: 8.8k

“I can’t believe you're getting married!” Tony exclaimed probably for the hundredth time during this whole process. “I’m more nervous than I was for Vision’s wedding,” you fought the urge to roll your eyes as you sat in front of the makeup artist. You felt bad for the poor woman who had to endure your family’s antics.

“Honey, have a drink,” Maria pushed a glass of whiskey into Tony’s hand. “You are going to stress out the bride.” You weren’t stressed. You were 100% content and ready to marry the woman of your dreams. All you had to do was get through a silly little ceremony and it would be official. You told Yelena that you would settle for getting married in a courtroom but she wanted a wedding. So you gave her a wedding.

“You look like the day you told me you had a crush on her,” Howard said, coming from the balcony with a cigar in his mouth. “All flustered and nervous. If I knew any better I’d say you were getting married.” You chuckled slightly at the light blush creeping up Tony’s face.

“Well then I learned that she was gay,” he pointed at you. “You were my first heartbreak.” You chuckled.

“I think you did well for yourself,” you smiled.

“Damn, right he did!” Pepper said and your bridal party cheered. This was the only thing you cared about, having your family together. Well, not everyone. Damn, you missed your parents.

*   

 God, you had to have a long talk with Natasha about your last drink. Your head was throbbing. At least the newlyweds had the forethought to book a place with continental breakfast so everyone could nurse their hangovers. “Someone got laid last night,” Tony said, slamming down a cup of coffee and sitting in the chair next to you. The sound echoed in your head. 

“Fuck Stark,” you groaned. “Why are you always so loud?” He chuckled at your expense. The man was never hungover, it was annoying. 

“So are you going to tell me who it was?” He took a piece of toast off your plate. “Because I’m all your boss so I will find out,” you kept your mouth shut, sipping on your coffee. “I bet it was with Carol. She eyefucks you at every gala,” you smirked. You knew the former Air Force pilot was with Val, maybe they were looking for a third. “Monica is attractive, was it her? Please don’t tell me you joined Romanoff and Barnes.” 

“Shut up,” you laughed. You sighed. “Fine I’ll tell you but you have to keep it quiet. Can you do that?” He nodded. You glared at him. 

“Scouts honor. Now come on tell me,” he whined. You smiled, biting your lip as you remembered lasted night. 

“It was Yelena,” Tony stared at you, mouth slightly open, and blinked a few times at you. 

“Romanoff is going to kill you,” he deadpanned. “At least leave me something nice in your will.” You rolled your eyes, smacking the man slightly on the chest. 

“She knows,” his face scrunched in disgust. “Oh my god, ew, not like that,” Laughing pulled your attention away from Tony and you watched as Yelena walked into the dining room with Kate and America. She was still wearing the long-sleeved shirt that you let her burrow. It made you smile. Tony hit your leg. “Sorry,” you snapped out of it. “Natasha gave her stamp of approval for me to pursue a relationship with her.”

“Why did you make it sound like a business proposition?” He asked. You huffed out a sigh, crossing your arms. “I’m kidding,” he laughed. “She’s the one that has put a smile back on your face,” you nodded. Yelena sat down at a table with her sister and her green eyes found yours, a playful smirk on her lips. You wanted to go over and kiss her again. “Well, I’m glad she’s making you happy.” 

“Yeah, she is.” 

*       

Maria and Howard asked you to join them when your hair and makeup were done. It was a light look as you didn’t wear makeup in your normal day-to-day life. So you stood with them on the balcony that overlooked the winery. “You are making me kind of nervous,” you chuckled. It reminded you of when you and Tony ‘burrowed’ Howard’s 1960 red Mustang. He wasn’t happy.

“There is nothing to worry about, sweetheart,” Maria said, sitting down at the small patio set. Her husband remained standing behind her. You sat down in front of her.

“We have a small gift for you,” you groaned. “Hey, lose the attitude squirt,” You fought the couple tooth and nail during this process. They wanted to help pay for the wedding or gift you something extravagant, but you declined both.

“It’s tradition for the bride to have something old, new, burrowed, and blue on their wedding day,” Maria explained. You and Yelena weren’t having a traditional American wedding with her being Russian and both members of the LGBTQ community but there were some things you were doing. You weren’t seeing each other until Yelena walked down the aisle, Yelena would be throwing her bouquet (you were hopping Natasha would catch it), and you had two flower girls (Lila and Morgan), and Nate and Cooper were your ring bearers.

“For your something burrowed,” Howard took off his cufflinks and handed them to you. “I expect those back in perfect condition.” he teased. You rolled your eyes but took them.

“For your something old,” Maria handed you a pin. “And it counts for your blue.” It was a blue jay pin that your mother gave her. She never took it off. You felt tears form in your eyes. “So they can be there with you while you walk down the aisle.”

“Your father gave me those,” Howard added. You choose Howard and Maria to walk you down the aisle in place of your parents. “They would be proud of you, kid,” you cleared your throat, trying to push down your emotions not wanting to ruin your makeup.

“Thank you,” you whispered. “Both you. I wouldn’t be here without you.”

“It has been a pleasure to watch you grow up,” Maria stood up and kissed the top of your head. “Here is something new,” she pulled out a small box and a letter. “From your soon-to-be wife. We’ll let you open it in private.” You thanked the couple and they returned to the suite as you opened the box. Inside was a new pair of earrings. They were simple golden studs with a small diamond. You smiled and put them in, now you understood why Pepper told you not to wear earrings. You opened the letter.

‘Darling, There are so many things I wish to write in this letter but I’ll keep it brief and save it for my vows. I can't wait to spend the rest of our lives together. As for the earrings, Maria told me a story of a family vacation you took with the Starks around the time of your parent's passing to Cape Code. You wore a pair of earrings that your mother gave you into the ocean and unfortunately lost them. I know these won’t be able to replace the ones you lost. But I hope they provide you with a sense of comfort along with the mementos Maria and Howard gave you. I love you and see you soon.’ 

You reread the letter a few more times before folding it nicely. You fiddled with the earrings. You were a mess that trip even more so when you lost your earrings. You missed them so deeply and you wished they were here with you.

*   

“Are you sure they want me here?” Yelena asked, anxiously twisting the rings on her fingers. You were sitting in the driveway of the Stark Family Home. It was Maria’s birthday. Tonight was the small gathering for family and a few close friends and tomorrow was the bigger party. The Starks never needed a reason to party. You took her hand in yours, bringing it to your lips. 

“They asked for you specifically,” it was true. When you told Tony about your new relationship, he couldn’t wait to tell his parents. They’ve met the blonde but you knew it was at a work event when you were introducing the new group of entrepreneurs. It was different now. She was just another Stark employee now she was a Stark employee and your girlfriend. “If you don’t want to go we can turn around and we can hang out at my place.” Yelena shook her head. 

“Is Wanda going to be there?” You sighed. 

“Yes,” the blonde tensed up. “But I don’t care about her. I’m with you and she made her choice.” You haven’t run into your ex-girlfriend since her wedding and your new relationship with Yelena. But you knew she knew. Vision seemed quite interested in your relationship, especially with how it would affect the workplace. It wasn’t a coincidence that an email from HR was in your inbox regarding relationships with coworkers. 

“Alright, let’s do this,” you turned off the car and walked over to Yelena’s side to open the door for her. “My knight in shining armor,” she said, kissing your cheek. She had the small gift bag in her hand, that you knew Maria was going to be livid about. You held onto her hand as you led her up to the massive doorway. “I sometimes forget how much money the Starks have,” Yelena mumbled, looking at the house. “Tony is so..”

“Stupid, cocky, a pain in my ass,” the blonde laughed, pinching your sides. “Ouch, rude.” 

“Don’t talk about our boss like that,” she teased. You rolled your eyes, ringing the doorbell. 

“He was a brother to me long before he was chairman of Stark Industries.” It wasn’t long before the door swung open. 

“There she is!” Howard said, pulling you in a hug. Your hand was ripped out of Yelena’s hold. “I guess you only come around when you know we’ll have food.” He teased. 

“Let me go, old man,” you pushed him off of you as he messed with your hair. 

“You did not just call me old,” he gasped. You stepped into the house and Yelena closed the door behind you. “It ain’t my birthday, sweet cheeks.” 

“I’m telling your wife you said,” you smiled, fixing your hair and polo. “Howard, I would like to introduce you to my girlfriend, Yelena-”

“Yelena Belova,” the man cut you off, extending his hand for her to shake. “I know all about you. You are the reason Stark Industries is branching overseas to work with the Wakandans,” Yelena shook his hand. You saw the tension leave her body. “It has always been my dream for the company to expand so we can help more people. I’d love to hear all about it.”

“Darling,” you saw Maria walk over. “You promised there would be no talking about work.” She scolded her husband. “Hello, Yelena it’s wonderful to meet you.” The matriarch hugged your girlfriend. Over his wife’s shoulder, Howard mouthed, ‘We’ll talk later.’ 

“It’s nice to meet you too,” Yelena smiled. “And Happy Birthday.” She handed Maria the gift bag. The woman glared at you but you held up your hands. 

“Wasn’t me,” you defended. “That was all her.” You were throwing your girlfriend to the wolves but when it came to Mama Stark it was for the best. Inside were two stained glass blue jays that she could hang in the window. 

“Oh, I love them. Thank you,” she hugged your girlfriend again. Your mouth hung open slightly. 

“How come when I get you a gift you threaten to kick me out of the will.” 

“Hush you,” Maria teased, lopping her arm with Yelena. “Come. Dinner is almost ready so we are having drinks in the sitting room.” Maria dragged Yelena in the direction of the room, leaving you alone with Howard. 

“Women,” he said, hitting you with his elbow. “Am I right?” You rolled your eyes. 

“You always are,” You grabbed him by the shoulder. “Come on let’s not keep everyone waiting.” When you joined the rest of the guests, Yelena was standing with Tony and Pepper. You excused yourself and joined the trio. 

“About time you showed up,” Tony teased, as he leaned closer to you. “Someone has been sending dirty looks to your girlfriend.” You saw Wanda standing with Vision and Bruce, another close friend of the Stark Family. You chuckled. 

“Maybe she’s upset I got lucky on her wedding night and she didn’t,” Tony gagged, punching you in the shoulder. 

“Children,” Maria warned and Tony mumbled a ‘sorry mom’ under his breath. “Dinner is ready.” The group filled into the dining room, and each person had a personalized name plate to designate where everyone was sitting. You pulled out Yelena’s chair for her. 

“Why don’t you do that for me anymore?” Pepper teased as she sat next to you. Tony huffed. 

“They are in the honeymoon phase,” he said. “They’ll grow out of it.” You smiled, placing your hand on Yelena’s thigh. 

“How are you doing?” You whispered. 

“Good,” she smiled. “Really good.”

*    

Once dinner was over, you joined Tony, Vision, and Howard for a glass of whiskey on the balcony. The Elder Stark would pass out cigars but you refused one. It was tradition. You remembered begging your father to join because you wanted to be with him and Tony instead of your mother. You haven’t been on this balcony since you broke up with Wanda. You missed it. Sitting back in your chair, you sipped on your drink and listened to the three Starks talk with one another. Your mind wandered to Yelena. You knew Wanda wouldn’t try to do anything to save face with Maria but you were worried nonetheless. “So,” Howard said, looking at you. Oh boy. “You’ve been oddly quiet. Most nights we can’t get you to shut up.”

“Cool thanks,” you smiled, wrapping your hands around the glass. “I liked listening to you guys talk,” you admitted. “It reminded me of when we were younger and my father was here to join us.” That shifted the conversation and you were grateful until Vision directed it back to you.

“How are you and Miss. Belova?” He asked. You almost choked on your drink.

“We are good,” you smiled. “Just taking it slow and learning more about each other.” You were not giving this man more information to feed to his wife.

“That girl is smart,” Howard praised. “She is going to go far in that company.” Oh, you knew that. She was helping you, Sharon, and Natasha create a branch in California. You were waiting on approval to go ahead with the project.

“Is your relationship affecting your workplace dynamic?” Vision questioned. “You are technically her superior.” Your jaw clenched. You heard Tony shift in his seat, ready to defend you but you held up your hand.

“It has not,” you answered. “If she has any issues, she reports it to Sharon, and then Sharon reports it to me so there is a non-biased party in the middle,” you sat up in your chair. “Now I have a question for you, Viz. Did you have these same levels of concern with Pepper and your brother’s relationship? Or do you just have a problem with it because it’s me?” You smiled. “Excuse me gentlemen but I need a refill.” You stood up and walked back into the house. Walking into the empty kitchen, you dumped your drink in the sink and washed the glass.

“I’m guessing my son said something to upset you.” You chuckled at Maria’s statement.

“He didn’t upset me,” you said. Besides you knew Tony was giving him an earful. “Are you getting a cup of tea? I can make you some.” She nodded and sat down. You began to prepare it. Your mother and Maria were the ones that taught you how to make it. Maria said you could win anyone over with the perfect cup of tea.

“I like her,” Maria broke the silence. You looked at the matriarch. “I like the smile you get when you look at her.” You nodded.

“Yeah, she’s great,” you leaned on the counter as you waited for the water to boil. “Do you think my parents would have liked her?” You asked Maria the same question about Wanda.

“Take my hand,” you did. “As long as you were happy they would have loved whoever you brought home,” the kettle began to whistle. It was the same answer she had given before. You turned around to pour the water into the mug. “But yes, they would have loved her.” That was new. You smiled, loving the warm feeling that covered you.

*      

“Let’s have a toast!” Sarah said, pushing an empty champagne glass in your hand. Laura came up behind her to fill it with a smile.

“She’s been waiting for this moment all day,” you chuckled and thanked the mother of 3. You became close to the Barton Family because of Yelena, you loved going to their house in Iowa. Once everyone had a drink and Lila and Morgan were given apple juice, Tony raised his glass.

“To a beautiful ceremony and a reception we’ll all forget.” You rolled your eyes. Sarah raised her glass next, and you gave her a pointed look to be nice.

“To picking someone that loves you as hard as you love them.” You mouthed a ‘thank you’ to your best friend.

“To looking hot and feeling hot.” Pepper cheered.

“To a long and happy life to the beautiful bride-to-be,” Laura added.

“Cheers!”

*     

It was the Gala of the year, the anniversary of the day Stark Industries was founded. Everyone would be dressed to the nines, the best catering company would be hired and paired with the right drinks. At the end of the night, awards would be given, and there would be dancing, laughing, and sharing stories. Most importantly the press would be there. So much press. Everything had a place and a reason behind it. The type of food, the partners and competitors that were invited, and the way people arrived. It was the biggest headache for those who planned the party but when you stepped out of the car with flashing lights it was worth it. You arrived third to last, in front of Tony and Pepper and Maria and Howard. You rested your hand on Yelena’s thigh. It was the first big event you two were attending as a couple. She was wearing a high slight, dark blue dress with spaghetti straps. You were dressed in a black suit with a dark blue pocket square. Before you left, you gifted your girlfriend a diamond necklace which she was wearing. “Are you excited, sweetheart?” You asked, glancing at her. 

“Fuck yeah. I’m ready to eat until I burst and drink alcohol I didn’t pay for,” you rolled your eyes, stopping the car and putting it in the park. A valet attendant would park it for you. You could hear the paparazzi and see the lights from their cameras. 

“Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?” Yelena smiled before capturing her lips with yours. It was a slow kiss and she pulled away before you could ruin her makeup. You could kiss her for hours if she let you. Every time you kissed her your stomach flipped. 

“About 100 times, darling,” she said. 

“Well I’ll tell you 100 more,” you kissed her again. “Let’s go woo the crowd, baby.” You got out first, waving to the crowd before running over to the passenger side. You opened the door and held out your hand. Yelena took it and you helped her out. The camera lights began to go crazy but your eyes were only on your girlfriend. You stared at each other for a moment before heading to the entrance. Then the questions started. ‘Y/n, how long have you been dating Yelena Belova?’ ‘Is this why you pushed so hard for the Wakanda Project?’ ‘Has this affected your working relationship?’ ‘Can you comment on Wanda and Vision’s relationship?’ But you paid no mind to them. 

Oh, you remembered the headlines from the first event after your break up with Wanda and she attended it with Vision. ‘Maximoff is after a REAL Stark.’ ‘Y/n loses to the Starks again.’ It was brutal. Maria, the company’s PR, had to put out a lot of fires. You made it your mission to make her job as easy as possible. So you ignored the questions and you had a statement ready to go live tomorrow. You and Yelena stopped for one more picture before entering the venue. You felt a weight lifted off your shoulders, feeling safe within the building. Only selective reporters were allowed during the actual event. “I hate the press,” you mumbled, holding onto Yelena’s hand. She chuckled as her sister and Bucky walked over. The redhead was wearing a floor-length black strapless dress and Bucky wore a suit with his tie red that matched Natasha’s lipstick. 

“I see you both made it through alive,” Natasha said. 

“Barely,” Yelena teased. 

“I don’t know how you deal with them all the time,” Bucky mumbled. 

“With a lot of alcohol,” you smiled. “Let’s go drink.”

* 

You were at the founder's table with the Starks plus Wanda, Pepper, Natasha, and Bucky. It was…special to say the least. You kept your hand on Yelena’s thigh while Wanda kept sending daggers your way. It was amazing to see how jealous she was as her new husband ignored her. You noticed Yelena’s drink was getting low as she was in a deep conversation with Pepper. You stood up and took her drink, whispering, ‘I’ll be right back,’ to your girlfriend. Before you could leave the table, Yelena turned to kiss you. You smiled and walked over to the bar. As you waited for the bartender, you heard a set of footsteps approaching you. You knew it was Wanda without having to turn around. You sighed. “What do you want Wanda?” You asked. “You’ve been starring daggers at me all night.” 

“I don’t think Yelena is good for you,” She said, standing next to you. You gave yourself whiplash on how fast you turned to look at her, not hiding the shock by her blunt comment. “You both are in different stages of life. You are well established in your career and she’s just getting her footing. It’s not fair to you that she’s using you to get ahead.” Your jaw clenched. Oh, you were so close to losing your cool. 

“It’s so nice that Vision looks like a loving and doting husband,” you deadpanned as the bartender put your drinks down. “Oh, I’m sorry I thought were saying things that aren’t true. Stay out of my relationship and I’ll stay out of yours.” As you grew into your career you learned to ignore what people said around you. It was damaging to your mental health to follow every rumor or lie spread about you. Even though your relationship wasn’t out to the public those you worked with knew. They were respectful at face value but you heard their whispers. They questioned the validity of your relationship with Yelena and you were only together to benefit the company or each other. It was ridiculous but your anxiety-induced brain made you question everything. Yelena was so far out of your league, that you wondered why she picked you. 

You sat back down with your and Yelena’s drink. “Thank you, dorogoy (sweetheart),” she smiled but frowned suddenly. “What’s wrong?” She asked. You forced a smile and shook your head. 

“Nothing,” you said, putting your arm behind her chair. “Don’t worry about it.” Yelena watched as Wanda returned to her seat, you could see the gears turning in her head. “Don’t,” you whispered in her ear and kissed her neck. “She’s not worth it.” She looked at you, her lips were inches from yours. 

“Come with me,” she said. You knew there was no room for argument. You both excused yourself from the table as Tony cat-called you both. You fought the urge to flip him off as Yelena dragged you to a hallway. “What did she do?” She asked once you were alone. 

“Nothing important,” you said, leaning against the wall. “Nothing that I know that isn’t true,” you looked away from the blonde. She sighed, closing the space, and used her finger to force you to look back at her. 

“It’s bothering you. So I want to know how to help,” she smirked. “Or I can go over there and force her to tell me, you know I’ve been looking for a reason to kick her ass,” you chuckled. That would be a sight to see. You hated the idea of keeping stuff from her but you didn’t want to upset her. You sighed. 

“She said you aren’t good for me,” you told her. “That you are just using me to advance your career.” Her green eyes went wide. 

“You know that isn’t true, right?” She whispered. “I-I would never do that.” Tears began to swell in her eyes. 

“Hey,” you brought her in for a hug. “I know you wouldn’t. No tears, okay? Don’t let that bitch ruin your makeup,” she laughed against your chest but you kept her in your arms when she didn’t pull away. “Sometimes,” you continued. “I can’t believe that I get to call you mine. You are so far out of my league that my mind likes to be my biggest enemy.” Yelena looked up at you. 

“Have you looked in a mirror, detka (babe)?” She questioned. “Or hear what some of the newer associates say about you or read what the press writes?” You remembered the article that Tony joked about. You were New York City’s most eligible bachelorette for a while. “You have the looks, power, and money, and I’m out of your league.” 

“Yes because you see as me and not as a Stark without the last name.”

“And I love you with or without the responsibility that comes with that name.” You stared at her. 

“I love you too,” you said without hesitation and captured her lips. Someone coughing broke you both apart. It was Maria. 

“As cute and disgusting as this is,” she smirked. “The award ceremony is about to start.” Ugh, that meant it was time for your speech. 

“Thank you, Maria,” Yelena smiled. “We’ll be right out,” the brunette left, playfully pointing to her watch. “Ready?” You weren’t. You were dreading to go back to that table. As your girlfriend turned to leave, you pulled her back towards you. “What-?” you kissed her. 

“Tell me again,” you whispered against her lips. She looked confused. “Please baby girl,” you pleaded. “Tell me again.” Her confusion disappeared and she smiled. 

“I love you,” the blonde said. “I am yours and you are mine.” Your heart fluttered. 

“I’m yours.” 

*       

“Are you excited?” Pepper asked, helping you put on Howard’s cufflinks. You waited for the click of the camera to go off before answering.

“I am,” you smiled. “I think I’m more excited for the reception than the ceremony.” Another photo. Pepper laughed.

“I was the same way,” she moved behind you to fix your collar and lay your bow tie flat. “I want you to know Yelena has helped you a lot but you’ve done amazing as well.” If Tony was the brother you never had, Pepper was the sister. You smiled. “It wasn’t easy but you opened up your heart again.”

“It was worth it,” you told her. “It was worth all the growing pains and hurdles we went through,” Pepper hummed. “And thank you for being there when I wasn’t. You have a lot on your plate and I’m sorry I added onto it.”

“Never apologize,” she placed your hands on your shoulders. “You are family,” you watched her smile through the mirror. “Now you are wedding ready.” You were wearing a cream three-piece suit. The blue jay pin was attached to your breast pocket and the color of your bow tie matched the sage green of the bridal party. You smiled back at her.

*  

 You loved your job. Loved it so much. But there were moments that you hated it. You figured that was common for any job. There was a pile of new hires, project requests, and yearly reviews that needed to be done. It seemed to be never-ending as the company continued to grow. You sighed, rolling your neck to release some of the tension, and got back to work. The hours seemed to keep passing but the piles of paper were never ending. A gentle knock on your office caused you to look up as Yelena walked in. “Hi,” you said. She looked concerned. “Are you okay?”

“Are you?” She countered. “We were supposed to meet at Kumos and you weren’t answering your phone. I was worried,” you glanced at the clock. 

“Shit,” you stood up suddenly, knocking against your desk. The lamp rattled from the impact. “I’m so sorry. I lost track of time.” You rushed out. Your hands shook as you began to organize the papers on your desk. 

“Hey, it’s okay.” But you shook your head. 

“I should have been paying attention to the time,” you said. You felt the panic build in your chest. “I got busy with all this,” you gestured to the mess on your desk. “I’m not creating excuses,” you added on. “I-”

“Dorogoy (sweetheart),” she cut you off, raising her hands to stop you. You flinched from the sudden action. Yelena frowned, the worry evident on her face. “Baby,” she said slowly. 

“I’m sorry,” you apologized. You needed to get out of here. Quickly, you ran into the bathroom and closed the door behind you. You locked it and slid down the wall until you hit the ground. It felt like there was a thousand pounds of pressure resting on your chest. Every breath you tried to take got caught in your lungs. Everything felt too small and too big at once like you were sinking and couldn’t get out. 

 *     

 Yelena watched as you quickly ran into the small bathroom and slammed the door shut. The sound caused the blonde to snap out of her haze and rush to the door but she heard the door lock. “Fuck,” she mumbled. She knew banging on the door and pleading for you to come out would send you deeper into a panic attack. She’s had to calm her sister down from them. Fishing her phone out of her pocket she scrolled through her contacts. Tony was out of town. She wasn’t sure if she could get her sister involved and she sure wasn’t hell going to call Wanda. That left Pepper. The Russian has texted the CEO a handful of times, mostly regarding takeout when they were at the office late. She was running out of options and hit call. The CEO picked up on the second ring. 

“Yelena,” she said slowly. “What’s wrong?” The blonde sighed and began to pace in front of your bathroom. 

“I’m in Y/n’s office and she had a panic attack and locked herself in the bathroom. I didn’t know who to call or what to do,” Yelena rattled off. Pepper was silent on the other end. 

“I’ll be right down,” she sighed in relief. 

“Thank you. I owe you one,” Pepper chuckled. 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” the CEO said. “You don’t owe me anything.”

*       

You were still on the floor, back against the wall, and knees to your chest. Everything you tried to calm your breathing down didn’t work and you felt yourself panic all over again. “Hey, it’s me,” you heard Pepper say. “Can you open the door for me?” You couldn’t move. “Or do you want me to use Tony’s spare key?”

“Key,” you said. The door unlocked and Pepper slowly opened it. You watched with tears in your eyes as she closed it behind her and sat down next to you. 

“When was the last time you washed this floor?” She joked. You laughed as the dam finally broke. “Come here,” she pulled in a side hug as you cried against her. 

“Is-is she mad at me?” You asked. 

“No, she’s just worried but we aren’t going to talk about that right now. I just need you to breathe.” You’ve been plagued by panic attacks all of your life and you were prescribed medication at 10 years old. Sometimes the pill didn’t help and your anxiety got the better of you. But this helped, being fully hugged by another person grounded you. You focused on the way Pepper slowed down her breathing and the scent of her floral perfume. “Tell me,” she finally said, drawing circles on your back. “What’s going through your head?” You let out a shaky breath. 

“I got caught up in work,” you told her. “And I missed a date with Yelena. I panicked.” 

“Why did you panic? Yelena told me you flinched when she raised her hands.” You did?

“I thought she was going to be mad at me,” you said slowly. Pepper pulled away from you to sit in front of you. She pulled your legs down so you could get more air in your lungs.

“Can you be honest with me for one question?” You nodded. “Did Wanda hit you?” Your eyes widened at the accusation. 

“What? No, never,” Pepper didn’t look convinced. “I promise. Sometimes she would get upset if she thought I was prioritizing work over our relationship. It was my fault,” you defended. “I should have done better. I should have been better.” Pepper sighed. 

“Honey, you and Tony are so much alike I have to remind myself you aren’t a full-blood Stark,” you smiled, wiping away some of your tears. “Do you know how many times he has missed a date because he was too busy? I’ll answer, a lot,” you chuckled. Half the time you were in the lab when Pepper came looking. She never got angry with him, a simple roll of her eyes and she asked what he was working on. You would order pizza or Chinese and the three of you would sit and talk and laugh. It was some of your favorite memories. “I knew he didn’t love me any less. His brain is just a little scattered just like yours.” That was an underestimate, you had so many thoughts and ideas running through your head it was a little overwhelming. “My guess is when you missed a date with Wanda you made it up to her an extravagant way the next day.” You nodded. 

“Yeah,” you whispered. “I just didn’t want her to be upset with me. I-” You cleared your throat. “I sometimes flinch when someone raises their voice or moves their hands quickly. I love my parents but they argued a lot.” 

“Have you told Yelena this?” You shook your head, looking down at your hands. “Why?”

“Wanda didn’t seem interested in helping me through it,” you shrugged. “I learned to manage it by myself.” Wanda was your first real girlfriend. You didn’t count quick flings in high school and college or random hookups here and there. You were too busy with work or school or managing your public image. 

“Look at me,” you did. She was pissed. You’ve seen her with this dark look in her eyes when she was speaking to Stark’s competitors or dealing with the press. “I need you to listen to me, okay?” You nodded. “Yelena is not Wanda and I know it’s gonna take time for you to trust her with this part of you but doesn’t seem better to have some help with this,” you nodded. It was lonely, swimming in the dark cavern looking for a way out. Pepper smiled. “Do you want to speak with Yelena?”

“Yes, please,” you were surprised that she was still here. “Thank you, Pepper. I appreciate it.” The CEO stood up and walked over to the door. 

“We are family, always have been, and always will be, got it?” You nodded. “Now follow up question, do you want me to kill Wanda?” Your jaw dropped but soon your laugh echoed against the bathroom walls. “I’m serious. I don’t care if she’s my sister-in-law or whatever.” 

“No need,” you smiled. “Besides I think that list is pretty long.” 

“Ain't that the truth,” Pepper winked at you before exiting that bathroom. 

The door wasn’t closed for long as it reopened and Yelena walked in, taking the spot where Pepper sat. “Hi baby,” you whispered, holding out your hand. She took it. “First, I’m sorry I hid from you. I was just scared and stressed with work. Second, thank you for calling Pepper.” She nodded as she stared at your connected hands. 

“What can I do to help?” She questioned. You raised your eyebrows in question. “Your panic attacks. What do you need?” Oh. Wanda never asked. “For me, I don’t like to be touched and the 5 senses counting down works best for me,” you frowned. 

“I don’t know you got panic attacks.” Yelena chuckled. 

“I bounced around Russian and American foster homes of course I have panic attacks.”

“Why haven’t you told me about them?”

“Why haven’t you told me about yours?” She countered. You sighed, looking away from her. “Not sure when the best time to talk about my past.” She squeezed your hand. 

“Wanda didn’t bother to help me,” you admitted. “So I’ve learned to keep it to myself.”

“Hey,” she said softly. You looked at her. “I’m not Wanda. I’m here for the good and the bad, okay?” You nodded. 

“Okay,” you whispered. 

*  

You were sitting on the couch while you listened to Sarah and Tony bicker back and forth. According to Maria, you were ahead of schedule so you had a few moments of peace before it got crazy again. “Knock, knock,” the door to your suite opened. Natasha walked in wearing a sage green dress.

“Looking good, Romanoff,” Tony whistled. The redhead rolled her eyes.

“You clean up nice, Stark,” she looked at you. “Can we talk?” You hated the way your stomach dropped.

“Yeah, of course,” you stood up and walked over to her. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you gave her a pointed look. “Okay, Yelena had a small panic attack and locked herself in the bathroom. She’s refusing to come out.”

“Take me to her.” You said to her without hesitation.

“I can’t,” she sighed. “She doesn’t want you to see her.”

“I can speak to her through the door,” you reasoned with her. “Natasha, please.”

“Come on,” Natasha gave in. You left your suite without a word to your bridal party and followed her to her room where Yelena was getting ready. You were grateful for Natasha. If it wasn’t for her gentle push you knew you would have danced around your feelings for her sister, too scared to mess up your friendship with her.

  *       

 “Just send it over to me,” you said, pacing behind your desk. “No, I trust you completely but you have your hands full and I can help,” the door to your office quietly opened. You smiled at your girlfriend and put your finger up to tell her you would be done in a minute. “Hope, I promise it’s not that big of a deal.” Yelena pushed your chair out of the way and sat on top of your desk. You smiled. “I know the next time I’m in California we'll get drinks. Give my love to Scott and Cassie. Bye,” you hung up. Yelena spread her legs to make space for you. You through your phone onto the chair and placed your hands on her thighs. “What are you doing, baby?” You asked. She placed her arms around your neck. 

“I was missing you,” you smirked. 

“You saw me at the all-company meeting.” She huffed. 

“Not the same and you know it,” she pouted. You chuckled, kissing her shoulder and up to her neck. She pulled you closer. 

“You can’t stay long,” you mumbled inches away from her lips. “I have a meeting with your sister.” The blonde rolled her eyes, groaning slightly. 

“Please never mention my sister and kiss me.” You obeyed because you could never deny her. You kept the kiss slow, not trusting yourself to get carried away. Yelena was intoxicating, that was the best way to describe her. You could get lost in the way she kissed and touched you. 

“Yelena,” you warned when you felt her tug your hair slightly. “We can’t do this here.” You wanted to push all your work off your desk and take her right here but you couldn’t. The morning wasn’t enough for you. 

“Your meeting with your Chief of Staff isn’t for another 45 minutes,” Yelena mumbled. “You can make me cum before then.” You groaned, resting your head on her shoulder. 

“Baby girl,” you whispered, kissing her neck. “You can’t say stuff like that.” You heard her breathing hitch when your lips grazed a sensitive spot on her neck. 

“Clocks a ticking, moya lyubov’ (my love),” the last of your restrain flew out of the window and you crashed your lips against hers. She smiled, grabbing onto you tightly as your fingers fiddled with the belt of her pants and unzipped the zipper. 

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” You asked, hands skimming underneath her shirt and goosebumps erupted on her skin. “It’s so hard to keep my hands off of you.”

“Pozhaluysta (please), don’t tease me.” You chuckled, nipping at the skin underneath her ear. You were careful to not leave any visible marks. 

“I got you, sweetheart,” you promised. “I’ll always have you.” You trailed your hand down her chest and trailed your finger underneath her pants, the door of your office opened. Yelena jumped, zipping up her pants. 

“Ugh,” Natasha groaned. “Not you two too,” she walked over to your desk with the paperwork for your meeting. “I already have to worry about walking in on Carol and Val.” Yelena burrowed her face in the crook of your neck unable to look at her sister. You chuckled. 

“Please, I’ve walked in on you and Bucky so many times,” Natasha smirked. 

“A little tip, lock the door,” she hit Yelena on the shoulder. “Come on sestra you can get laid on company time after our meeting.” You felt the blonde let out a small huff and jump off your desk, kissing you softly. Your girlfriend flipped her sister off before leaving your office and closed the door behind her. 

“Shut up,” you said, sitting down in your chair. 

“I have to go bleach my eyes after this meeting,” you rolled your eyes as Natasha sat down. But that smirk was still on her face. “Or drink it so I can forget the image of you having your hand down my sister’s pants.”

“My hand was not down her pants,” you deadpanned. Natasha glared at you. “Whatever, let’s get this meeting going.” Natasha chuckled. 

“Of course, someone has a meeting to have an orgasm.” 

*     

Natasha opened the door to the suite and it was empty of Yelena’s bridal party. She opened the closed door. “Thank you.”

“I’ll give you space. Call me if you need anything,” you nodded and walked over to the bathroom door, gently knocking on the door.

“Go away,” her voice shook. You fought every nerve in your body to break down the door and wrap her in your arms.

“Sweetheart, it’s me.” She was silent on the other side.

“You're not supposed to see me.” You smiled.

“I’m behind the door, my love. I can’t see you, I promise. Can you tell me what’s going on?” You could hear her breathing begin to pick up. “Hey, hey,” you cooed. “Count for me, baby. 5 things you can see.” You wondered if she heard you as she was so quiet.

“Natasha’s makeup bag, a hair dryer, my towel, Melina’s robe,” she laughed. “And a bottle of vodka Alexei left.” You laughed along with her. You loved Melina and Alexei, the odd couple who always made you laugh.

“Good job sweetheart. 4 things you can touch.”

“Bathroom mat, the door, the tile floor, and the silk of my robe.” You praised her each time she counted something in the bathroom that went along with her senses until her breathing slowed down. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “You shouldn’t have to deal with me like this,” you shook your head even though she couldn’t see you. You sat down with your back against the door.

“Nonsense,” you said. “You will always be my number one priority. So why did you lock yourself in the bathroom?” You asked. You heard her sigh.

“People are going to be looking at me,” she finally said. You kept the snarky comment at bay; ‘Well it is your wedding.’ You knew there was more. “And I started to panic because what if I fall or mess up my vows or Alexei embarrasses me.” You smiled.

“Well, he’s already going to do that so that’s a given,” she chuckled. “Do you want to call off the wedding?” Yelena gasped.

“No, no. I think Natasha would kill me,” You knew she would never do that. “And I’m not doubting I want to marry you,” well that was a relief. “I just panicked.” You hummed. “You must think I’m stupid.”

“Never, baby, I understand anxiety better than most people. There are going to be a lot of eyes on both of us but do you know where my eyes will be?”

“Where?” Yelena questioned.

“On you. I don’t care about anybody else,” you truthfully said. “And you just have to keep your eyes on me. Nobody else matters,” she was quiet as you brought one leg up to your chest and chuckled. “Do you remember when I asked you to marry me?”

“Before or after I punched you,” she deadpanned. You laughed which caused Yelena to laugh along with you. You asked her to marry her on parent’s farm. She was in disbelief at the question her instinct was to punch you. It got a laugh out of everyone that was there to witness it but she said yes.

“Happiest day of my life,” you admitted. “Well, that is a lie, every day spent with is the happiest day of my life.”

“That was disgustingly cute,” you rolled your eyes. “I love you.��

“I love you too,” you smiled. “So are we going to get married today?” You heard rustling on the other side of the door, you figured she was standing up. You mirrored her actions. The clicking of the door unlocked and it opened slightly. She brought out her hand and you took it.

“See you are the alter,” you kissed her hand.

“See you there.”

*     

Oh, you were going to throw up. You wanted to take back everything you said. You were nervous as Maria kissed your cheek and Howard hugged you, and they left you at the altar. They took their seats next to the empty ones you left for your parents. Next was the wedding party and you felt Tony grab onto your shoulder. “You are going to cause an earthquake for how much you are shaking,” he mumbled. “Breathe.” You nodded as Cooper and Nate walked down the aisle followed by Lila and Morgan. The music changed, the crowd stood up, and there she was.

“Holy shit,” you said, smiling. You heard Tony and Pepper chuckle at your reaction. It was the first time you saw the dress. Yelena went dress shopping with Melina, Natasha, Laura, and Pepper when you were on a work trip. The dress had a lace top and the style hugged every curve. It had a beautiful train behind her. Every guest's eyes were on her, she was the star of the show but her green eyes were only on you. Alexei kissed Yelena on the top of her head when they stopped in front of you and he turned to face you.

“You hurt, my little girl, I will kill you,” he deadpanned but you saw the joke in his eyes. “I have the skills to do it.” You rolled your eyes at the man.

“Dad,” Yelena warned but Alexei ignored his daughter and hugged you tight.

“You are good for her,” he whispered. “You keep her heart good.” He let you go and joined Melina at his seat. You took her hands and smiled.

“Hi,” you said. “You didn’t fall.” Yelena chuckled softly.

“No,” she whispered. “My eyes were only on you.”

*     

With the ceremony over, changed into your reception suit, and a plate full of food, you made your way back to the sweetheart's table. You stopped as you saw Wanda walking with Carol. You knew she RSVP you still weren’t sure if she’d come. Placing your bowl of mac and cheese down and took a sip of your drink. Damn your wife for getting you addicted to the cheesy pasta. Wife. Yelena was your wife. You loved the sound of that. You walked over to your ex. To your surprise, she smiled when she saw you. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.” You admitted.

“You are the one that invited me.”

“Well, you invited me to yours. I was just returning the favor,” You looked around the venue. “Where’s the hubby?” You questioned.

“Watching the twins,” you raised your eyebrow.

“He doesn’t like me very much does he?” You asked. She didn’t answer but her smile told you everything. There was a time you hated the man too but you learned to let that emotion go. It was better to move forward and not get stuck in the past.

“I wanted to apologize to you and at some point Yelena.” That was odd. “Natasha knocked some sense into me.” You chuckled. “So I’m sorry.” You crossed your arms.

“For what exactly?” There was a lot she needed to apologize and you wondered what she was going to pick. Wanda sighed.

“I have a lot to apologize for but I’m sorry for everything I said about you and Yelena. It was done in poor taste and I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness.”

“I’m not giving it to you,” her face showed the shock she was in. “I don’t think you realize how damaging your actions and words hurt me and the person I love.”

“Why did you invite my family?” She asked.

“I could ask you the same question,” You moved to stand next to her to overlook the party. Yelena was doing a shot with Natasha, Bucky, and Alexei. She changed out of her wedding dress into a white jumpsuit. You loved the way she was smiling. “I don’t like how things ended between us,” you stated. “At one point you were my best friend but it got us to where we needed to be. You with Vision and me with Yelena. I guess it counts for something,” You looked at Wanda, who was frowning. “You aren’t happy with Vision, are you?” Wanda sighed, shrugging her shoulders.

“Not as happy as I thought I’d be.” You wondered what was going on behind closed doors. You hummed.

“Maybe that’s your problem, Wanda. The talent behind happiness is appreciating and liking what you have, instead of what you don’t have.” You walked over to Yelena, wrapping your arms around her waist. “Having fun?” You asked. She excitedly nodded her head.

“I beat Bucky at Pennies,” she said, smiling at you sheepishly. You squeezed her waist to get her to tell you what she was hiding. “You are going to need more mac and cheese, I ate yours.” You gasped.

“Baby!” You spun her around in your arms as she laughed. “We have an all-you-can-eat mac and cheese bar and you eat mine.” Her laughter continued as she rested her chin on your chest. “Why did you eat mine?”

“Because it was just sitting there and I like how you make yours and I couldn’t let it get cold so I ate it.” She giggled.

“God, I fucking love you,” you mumbled, kissing her.

“ya tozhe tebya lyublyu, moya zhena (I love you too, my wife)”

“Moya zhena (my wife),” you repeated and kissed her again.

_

Taglist: dogtamer415, justyourwritter69, marvelogic, upsidedowndanvers, theenglishswiftie, dark-hunter16, marvels--slut, janstevenswife, casquinhaa, marvelwomen-simp, dmenby3100, sleeperthelazy, rioheartz, mmmmokdok, wonrius, gemz5, ctrlamira, wandasmarley

[wheeboo]

insomniac | lee jihoon

SYNOPSIS. in which jihoon has trouble falling asleep. PAIRING. lee jihoon x gn!reader GENRE. fluff, hurt/comfort, established relationship WARNINGS. mentions of insomnia WORD COUNT. 1.2k

notes: just a random jihoon comfort drabble because he works so hard for us and deserves everything in the world <3

Jihoon can’t fall asleep.

It was nothing out of the ordinary for him, as he finds his days filled with exhausting schedules that easily wears him out, yet he spends his nights specifically to produce new music for the group. But as the rest of the world around him settled into deep slumber, Jihoon remained wide awake in those ungodly hours, fueled by nothing but the intensity of his creative passion.

He couldn’t tell if there was any reasoning behind it𑁋if there was a reason why his brain is so full of ideas that it can’t seem to just shut up and be quiet for once, so he feels the need to put it all down first until the wee hours of the night before having to force himself to sleep, which in itself doesn’t really do his body well. 

The cycle had started over a month ago𑁋that’s what he told you at least𑁋but time seemed to lose all meaning when he was in the zone. The days blurred together, punctuated only by the occasional meeting or performance. Jihoon couldn't remember the last time he had a good night's rest. His mind resembled a galaxy of inspiration, and he was just a mere person trying to capture its brilliance in sound.

Jihoon finds himself staring at his computer in front of him, eyes dry and a bit heavy, yet his mind is completely awake. It’s around three in the morning and he’s probably gotten up once or twice in the last few hours. He knows himself that whatever he was doing was unhealthy; you nagged him about it just an hour ago, and now you were coming over.

His phone vibrates and he takes it in his hands, reading through your short text.

[my y/n 🤍] can you let me inside?

Jihoon’s heart twinges with guilt as he reads your message. He knows he should have listened to you and taken better care of himself, but the allure of his music and the pressure of his work had consumed him. He had become a slave to his insomnia, unable to break free from its grasp.

[my jihoon ❤️] door is unlocked. be careful

The moment he sends the text he hears some footsteps outside his door. He stands up from his chair, releasing a groan from the slight ache in his step, and heads his way to greet you. 

Immediately once he opens the door, he frowns at how disheveled and tired you look when taking off your shoes, knowing that you made the effort to come to his studio for him. You carried a bag from what he presumes is food from the convenience store at your side. Gosh, what time did he last eat?

“You didn’t have to come here, Y/N.” Jihoon reaches a hand out to help steady you as you chuck your shoes off to the side. 

“I had to, honey.” The term of endearment sends something through his heart. “I can’t stop thinking about you continuously pushing yourself these days. I miss having you at home.”

Before he could respond, you take his hand in yours and lead him to the couch, placing down the plastic bag on the table. Jihoon helps you unpack the contents inside. It was just two bowls of ramen and a pack of microwaveable rice. 

“Here, I’ll warm this up for us. Just wait on the couch.” Jihoon takes lead and grabs the two bowls of ramen and rice, bringing it to the little kitchen area to the side and filling the bowls up with preprepared hot water. 

You find yourself sprawled on top of the couch, watching your boyfriend quietly hum his way through the studio. Even though you were tired yourself, you made an objective to not fall asleep right on the spot. You wanted him to be with you. You wanted him to try and fall asleep with you, and maybe just maybe help him get some decent sleep even for one night. 

And if you had to keep showing up to his studio to coax him out of work, then that’s what you were going to do. Nothing was going to stop you. 

Once Jihoon finishes warming up the rice and letting the ramen cool down, he brings the food back to where you are and sits himself down on the couch right next to you.

The two of you eat in comfortable silence, though there was a bit of lingering tension in the air knowing that the elephant in the room had to be addressed at some point. For now you both just cherish the time together since a lot of Jihoon’s work had interfered the two of you from fbeing able to spend time with each other. 

Once you finish eating, you glance over at him, pushing back some of his dark loose strands in his face behind his ear so that you could see his side-profile better. You see his lips curve up in small appreciation, but he can’t seem to get himself to make eye contact with you. The guilt coursing through him felt as if he was a bit more distant than usual.

“You know you deserve a break sometimes, right?” You ask him, watching him take in your words so heavily that it makes him momentarily pause.

Jihoon nods his head, a small sigh leaving his lips. “I know. But ever since we discussed our comeback preparations, I... I can’t help myself, you know? I need to make everything perfect.”

You listen to him carefully, taking in his words like the gentle melody he has the art in making. Jihoon had always been aware of the immense pressure on his shoulder over the years and it just now began to take an obvious toll on his health both mentally and physically. 

“I just can’t rest knowing I have all these ideas, all these words for lyrics...” Jihoon scrunches his face up together, exhaling a deep breath. “But I do wish I can just sleep and rest.”

That’s when your face lights up just a bit. “That’s why I’m here. You’re going to take a rest with me, whether you like it or not.”

Jihoon peers at you as if you were crazy. “Y/N𑁋”

“Jihoon, honey, please rest with me. One night is all I ask for,” You practically beg him. “At least lay here with me until morning. I know your work is important to you, but... I miss you. I miss holding you and when you hold me.”

You stare at him with pleading eyes and Jihoon can never get himself to resist you. Though he has a lot of trouble expressing how he feels, he can never deny just how vulnerable and sensitive you make him sometimes. You always found the smallest ways to take care of him, even if it meant sacrificing yourself in a way. He’s always been grateful for that, and he knows that someday he will repay you. He has to.

Jihoon glances between you and his open computer in the background, finally letting his shoulders relax. 

“Okay.” He stands up, motioning to his computer. “Let me just turn all this off and then I can hold you.”

You shake your head amusedly. “I’d rather hold you this time if that’s okay with you.”

Jihoon feels a smile creep on his face as he walks to turn off his computer and soundboard. He’s not against that idea either.

[galamalion]

⚔︎. 𝐀 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐉𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐘 (𝐢)

summary. you join mizu on her quest for vengeance, discovering more about yourselves on the way towards her ultimate goal.

⤷ contents. mizu x fem!reader, blue eye samurai spoilers, violence, mention of suicide, themes of racism + misogyny, slight slow burn, slight enemies to lovers // wc. 10.6k

⤷ notes. i don't have name for this series yet, i just really wanted to write something for mizu lol idk if i want it to be reverse harem? probably won't see any taigen or akemi x reader, or x mizu for that matter (mizu only has eyes for you <3) anyways i hope you enjoy this story and what's to come!

chapters. [i] [ii] [iii] [iv] [v] [vi] [vii] [viii]

Pure, untouched snow crunched beneath your worn-out sandals as you trudged behind Mizu, choosing each step carefully to avoid shoving your foot deep inside a snowbank and ruining your shoes further than they already had.

The weather hadn’t been great, all things considered. The wind was a tad too harsh, nipping bitterly at your cheeks and nose, letting the falling snow melt into your kimono and dampen the fabric slightly.

Despite your light-hearted complaints, Mizu insisted that you keep walking. Mizu was nothing if not determined to reach your destination in a day, not wanting to waste any more time than you already had. And so you trekked across the white frosted forest, following the hidden path that was completely buried in snow.

“You really think the man you’re looking for will be here?” you asked, side-stepping a thick layer of snow.

Mizu hummed in response.

“And if he’s not here?” you pried.

“Then I’ll find out where he went from here,” she answered curtly, not bothering to turn around.

You sighed, pulling your hanten tight over your chest. In addition to shelter, you’d also like to stop by a town, a busy one, if you were able. Clothes weren’t a necessity—you could walk a couple more miles in your sandals, and your kimono was at least still fairly new. But on account of Mizu’s proclivities, you were in desperate need of more bandages. You still had a few bundles of herbs and plants you picked before the snow fell, but you were fearful those would eventually rot or decay inside your inro.

��Just try to keep the bloodshed to a minimum,” you sighed, “or at the very least, your bloodshed.”

“I make no promises,” she stated plainly.

You just rolled your eyes.

After a few more minutes of walking, your thin trail ended, leaving you in the midst of a ramshackled town. Mizu continued walking through it, not sparing a glance to anything except for the building that lay straight ahead. A noodle shop, or so the sign said.

You walked ahead of Mizu to get a closer look at the dilapidated building, dodging more snowbanks to reach your goal. As you got closer to the shop, you noticed Mizu had stopped in her tracks, standing still behind you. 

Spinning around to see why she paused, you immediately saw three children, the leader holding a small rock and preparing to throw it at Mizu. She turned her head slightly, not quite looking at the children, only just enough for them to catch a glimpse of her unamused expression.

The children quickly ran back to their homes, dropping their stones as they fled. Mizu resumed her stride, stepping up beside you in front of the store.

You lightly poked Mizu’s shoulder, “Are we here strictly on business, or can I get something to eat?”

Mizu grumbled, fishing some coins out as she slid the door open and stepped through the loose fabric that hung above the entryway.

The two of you made your way to a table in the corner, Mizu obscuring her face with her hat and you keeping your head down. As a woman should, or at least in public. Mizu wanted to keep a fairly low profile, and so you were willing to make at least some sacrifices on her behalf. The slight jabs and insults you received on account of your gender, after all, were nothing compared to the ones Mizu received. 

“Welcome, sir and madam,” a portly young man said, sitting down beside your table, “I'll bring you some tea. It's not good tea, but it's hot, and you're frozen, and I'll bring you a rag because when I'm frozen, my snot drips. Then a nice big soba. We make the best soba. Honest. Bad tea, great soba. Okay?”

Mizu gave a polite nod in response, while you just stared bewildered at the talkative man. You managed to muster out a ‘thank you’, doing your best to put a kind smile on your face.

The man smiled back and rose to his feet, marching jovially back to the kitchen to prepare your tea and noodles. He was stopped at the next table, however, as the scrawny man sitting there jutted his leg out to stop him.

“Stumpy!” the harsh voice crowed, “more noodles, fast.”

The lanky man sneered as the waiter-cook obliged, returning to his station in the back. His upper lip curled as he turned to the two young women next to him.

“I paid your fathers good money for you,” he snidely remarked. “The brоthеls will pay me even more once you get some curve on, you skinny country nothings. Eat!”

Your nose wrinkled at his loathsome behavior. It was the one thing you were never able to stomach, the gross maltreatment of women, like meat being prepared for eating. Mizu’s perceived appearance as a man earned your envy, knowing that she wouldn’t be viewed in the same way you were. But you knew that you both weren’t accepted in the circles you wanted to join, and that just because Mizu looked like a man, didn’t mean she would be accepted with open arms.

The bald young man returned with two bowls of noodles and tea, setting it down gingerly before you. Mizu, suspicious as ever, sniffed before diving into her meal, while you greedily downed the bowl entirely, placing the empty container down before Mizu could finish her last bite.

“It’s good, right?” he grinned, swiping your dirty bowl away from you while you took your cup of tea.

He left your table momentarily to deliver the tray of noodles to the old man, standing before him with the fresh steaming bowls.

“Finally!” he barked, snagging the face of the poor girl sitting closest to him. “Eat up, girls. Eat it all!”

The fearful girl swatted his hand away, causing it to crash and spill one of the bowls of hot noodles across the lap of the old man, who angrily stood up and slapped the poor man.

“What are you, a dog?” he growled, turning to point a finger at the cook who had just run out. “You let a dog serve food!”

You clenched your fists beneath the table, keeping your head down to avoid exploding. If only by his boisterous attitude, you assumed this was the man Mizu had been looking for. All the men Mizu searched for were similar, fitting into two categories: loud and overconfident. There was often overlap between the two.

“F-Forgive my son,” the man laughed nervously, bowing to the furious customer. “Can’t go a day without breaking dishes.”

The cook turned to his son, anger in his voice, “Ringo, clean him!”

“I’m sorry,” Ringo said, attempting to walk towards the man, only to slip on the noodles he had just dropped, causing the tray to drop the other bowl of noodles onto the man’s lap.

You wished you were anywhere else right now.

“Agh!” the old man cried out, reaching for his chest. You were unable to see his movements as his back was towards you.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Ringo repeated, desperately trying to salvage the situation by picking up the mess below.

The old man’s hand retracted from his chest, pointing straight towards Ringo. The gasps around the room told you what you couldn’t see. And as the room swiftly grew quiet, you could barely make out the weapon grasped in his hand when he shrugged.

“Ah…I should put down this lame dog,” he growled, bringing the gun back up to point at Ringo.

Ringo stared unflinchingly, as if confused by the man’s words, “I’m not a dog,” he said confidently, yet with a twinge of fear present in his voice.

“Did you just bark?” he chuckled darkly. “Do you know who I am? I am Hachiman the Flesh-Trader, and no one messes with Hachi!”

Ah. So it was him. You turned to take in Mizu’s reaction, only to see her staring straight down at the table beneath you. And, in a moment that made you wish you were deaf, Mizu pushed the table forwards, causing a shrill squeak to echo throughout the room as it scraped against the floor., earning the attention of Hachiman.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” you hissed under your breath, praying that Mizu wouldn’t be dumb enough to goad the man with a gun. She’d threatened and bribed men for information in the past, some merchants, and some fellow samurai. They could be dangerous, and they often were, refusing to give up the necessary information without a fight. But they hand knives, swords. Not guns.

Mizu stood from the table and slowly strode over to Hachiman, keeping her eyes trained on his gun as she moved to stand in front of him.

“Impressive,” she hummed, taking small steps towards him, “I’ve never seen a gun like it.”

You grabbed the tea kettle and poured some into your cup, taking a deep breath in an attempt to cool your nerves. Mizu had gotten into worse situations before—none involving a gun, of course, but equally as dangerous. Those samurai that refused to give up, those merchants who feared for their lives, they all died like dogs beneath Mizu’s blade. 

‘He’ll be no different,’ you thought, bringing the cup up to your lips. Looking down at your hands, you realized they were shaking ever so slightly. 

She placed her hand on her chin, tilting her head to gaze down the barrel of the gun, “Front loading, not a Japanese pistol,” she remarked, grazing her finger across the weapon. “A European design, isn’t it?”

Remaining silent, you sent a sharp glare towards Mizu, who had not yet disobeyed your one request of her, but was getting real damn close to it. Her eyes flickered towards yours in acknowledgement, although whether it was her trying to tell you that she understood your concerns or her telling you that she had it under control was a mystery. You just assumed the latter.

The other customers fled the building, leaving you as the only patron still inside, although you weren’t exactly eager to stay, not wanting to get caught up in the ensuing firefight. Your eyes darted to Mizu’s hand, noticing her middle and index finger were pointing straight down, which was Mizu’s signal for you to leave.

You rose from the table and quickly walked outside the store, not bothering to look back at the standoff behind you. Mizu could handle herself, especially against a crotchety old pervert like that man. All that was left for you to do was wait, and hope that your patient didn’t get herself killed.

It was spring—not early, though. All the snow had melted and it was beginning to pour into summer, the sun becoming hotter with each passing day. You were out in the woods, a couple paces away from your small town, but not far enough away as to have to worry about bandits. 

You were on a mission to fetch medicinal supplies, both for your own collection as well as for your fellow villagers who had paid you for your efforts. Mixing and making salves and herbal blends was your specialty, and it had earned you a pretty penny. 

On account of being an orphan and lacking family to support, you had to become resourceful. Your former village lacked a structured orphanage, leaving you to wander the underdeveloped streets as a scavenging rat. It was hardly a life, but you made do. Learning that people would pity a poor, starving girl was the greatest weapon in your arsenal, though you knew it could easily lead to your downfall.

Joining a wealthy household would be effortless, but it would come with dreadful and unpredictable consequences. A daughter would only be accepted if there were a son, one you would have to marry once you came of age. Or at least, that was your thought process. Perhaps a family could, would take you in and expect nothing of you. But you were a talentless orphan, one who could give nothing even if nothing was needed of you. 

And so, you left your village, moving in the dead of night along the dirt path in search of a new home.

Your travels brought you to a new, ever so slightly smaller village, and yet there seemed to be more people, more faces. At first you simply watched, trying to get a feel before sinking your teeth into anyone here.

And your patience was rewarded, finding your long-awaited prize.

You’d discovered an old man, a doctor, judging by his customers and conversation you’d picked up. One night you knocked on his door, begging on your knees for a place to stay and promising everything you could give. And so, under the guise of being his doting attendant, you began keeping an eye on his carefully guarded work. Over the years you began assembling your own guide, making improvements upon his recipes and even crafting a few of your own. Once he died—natural causes, of course—you lacked any competition. 

You weren’t allowed to practice medicine, at least not directly, but you were easily able to play into the role of a concerned woman with old recipes generously shared by your master when you were ill. 

And nobody was any wiser, praising you for your teas and ointments and whatever the hell else you managed to conjure up. You could heal sore throats, rejuvenate women’s skin for the pleasure of their suitors and husbands. Who wouldn’t buy from you? 

In the end, you were alive, happily unmarried, and had a stable income. It was the dream of so many young girls, and you were living it.

You’d already collected enough to meet your quota, but you were after your own batch of herbs. It was important to start prepping medicine early, as once the first frost struck, everything would wither and die. But as you discovered a rich cluster beneath a tree, you heard an anguished groan nearby, causing you to whip around.

The sliver of an arm poked out from behind the tree, clearly not wide enough to hide whoever was sitting before it. You took a deep breath and carefully circled around to the other side of the tree, keeping a fair amount of distance between as you looked upon the unknown being.

Lying beneath the tree was a man, one you hadn’t recognized. Most, if not all, of the men in your current village were rather hairy and brutish, whereas the stranger was lithe and clean, a pair of shaded glasses covering their eyes. But what really caught your attention were his obvious wounds, clearly injured from some sort of weapon, though you’d need a closer look to really assess any kind of damage.

“You’re bleeding,” you noted, marching up to the injured man sitting before you.

If he was startled by your presence, he didn’t show it, but perhaps his injuries were making him delirious. His side had a small cut, light bleeding and probably didn’t require stitches. The shoulder, however, was in far worse shape, blood seeping out through his shirt and down to his forearm. You couldn’t know how bad it was until you looked at it, but the man seemed apprehensive.

“I’m fine,” he muttered, pressing a thin piece of torn fabric to his shoulder.

Your head nudged towards the sword at his waist, “You’re a samurai, not a doctor. Let me see it.”

“You’re not a doctor either,” he said, pressing his back further against the tree, and  away from you.

“Well, I’m the closest thing you’re going to get,” you glared at the stubborn man. “Unless you want to let the old bastards in my town drain your blood.”

The stranger glared back, clenching his fists and chewing his cheek in thought. It was a bluff on your end, knowing that not a soul in your village had any kind of medical knowledge. You could feel in your heart that he was a stubborn soul, and he’d certainly bleed out if you tried to bring him back to your town. Or maybe he’d just be chased out, on account of his strange and mysterious getup. 

“Please,” you implored, “I can help.”

He grunted, looking down at the wound on his shoulder, moving a shaking hand up to it before turning his eyes back to you.

“Fine,” he mumbled, gritting his teeth as he pressed on his shoulder. “Just make it quick.”

A deafening shot rang through your ears, bringing you out of your thoughts, but the strident cry that followed it eased your on-edge nerves. It was a garish noise, one that Mizu would never make, especially not in combat. She was more of a grunter.

It was fairly quiet until Mizu came out, another scream echoing behind her as she slammed the door closed.

“Successful?” you asked, trying to gauge her reaction at what had transpired.

“A name,” she responded, walking ahead.

You followed her, a pout forming on your lips, “It’s always another name.”

“This one has a direct connection.”

“So did the last one.”

Mizu didn’t respond, only continuing her determined walk out of the village.

The wind hadn’t let up at all, still blowing snow across your face and freezing the tips of your fingers. But gradually, as you followed Mizu on the path, the wind began to die down, only the snow falling from the sky was left to land on your skin, leaving a tingling feeling as they melted away.

And cold weather aside, the environment that surrounded you was beautiful, from the cliffside view of the water below to the towering bamboo that stood proudly, if only slightly disturbed by the snow and frost that covered it. You took time to marvel at these sights, while Mizu continued to keep her head down, head covered by her conical hat, keeping the snow away without any effort on her part. Perhaps there was more you envied about her than you thought.

Your peaceful journey was interrupted by the sound of heavy footsteps, though they were still some ways away. Both you and Mizu had turned around, seeing no one in the immediate distance behind you, either. She put a hand on your shoulder, gently pushing you behind her as she drew her sword, walking on the path of which you came.

“Stay here,” she whispered, prowling towards the sound.

You shrugged and grasped the knife that was tucked inside of your kimono, watching as Mizu left you alone, though she wasn’t gone for long. Returning with her sword sheathed, Mizu continued walking right past out, resuming the journey.

“Did you find anyone?’ you asked, ever so slightly curious.

“Yes.”

“...Did you kill them?”

“No.”

The lack of explanation in her single word responses clued you in to stop asking questions.

Slowly the bamboo grotto you found yourself in transitioned into small trees, crowded around one another in entangled root systems and branches above. The trees grew sparser and sparser with each step on the path, though they were growing larger, thicker. Soon the trees towered far, far above you, holding up heavy batches of snow with their needles, branches bowing down under the weight of the thick white blanket that coated them.

After another ten-or-so minutes of walking, the two of you encounter a small, decaying temple. It was in better condition than any of the buildings in the village you had come from, standing out among the lonesome path and soaring trees. but it seemed to grab Mizu’s attention, as she began walking up the broad stone steps.

You stopped at the base of the stairs, looking up at her, “Would you like some privacy, Mizu?”

Mizu stopped amidst the stairs, looking down at you below with an expression of pleasant surprise.

“That…would be nice,” she took a few more steps up to the entrance, turning back to you one last time. “Thanks.”

Brushing some snow off your self proclaimed seat, you leaned against one of the short stone pillars, doing your best to find comfort against the rough and uncomfortable material. Mizu shouldn’t be too long, unless she was planning on spending the rest of the day praying for her vengeance. In the past you’d believe that, but you were more in tune with her personality now. 

You’d been traveling without a lead for so long, passing through rain, wind, and snow for days without rest. Name after name after name perpetuated the eternal journey you found yourself on, leading you on a wild, unending chase to find a single man. This was the guidance she needed, a direct path to the man in question, creating a new opening for her to walk upon in search of her goal.

Mizu had finally found the spark to reignite her self-righteous fury, and she was going to let it burn for as long as possible.

“You need to be still, moving can lead to the wound opening,” you hissed, tying off the last bandage.

“It’s my arm that’s injured, not my legs. I’ll be fine.”

“Listen, samurai,” you reached for his hand, “you can’t just—”

Before you could get close to even touching his palm, your wrist was caught tightly within his hand, squeezed uncomfortable as he stared deep into your eyes, past them, into your soul.

His free hand, the injured one, shakily went to his tinted glasses, tilting them down to the tip of his nose, giving you the first real glimpse of what laid behind them.

Your eyes widened ever so slightly, but no noise would exit your parted lips.

They were blue—not like the sky, they were brighter than that. And yet there was still so much darkness within. He had distinct eyelids, different from everyone you had ever known or seen. And there was beauty in that, but it was a shameful beauty. A beauty that screamed his difference to the world, proclaiming for all to see that he was not like the rest. That a white man had aided in his creation. But to blame a creation for the faults of its creator was a cruel decision, wasn't it?

And yet you could not conceal your shock at his mere existence.

His straightened mouth briefly twitched into a frown before returning back to his cool facade, releasing your wrist and walking away, a hand clutching his shoulder.

“That wound is bound to get infected,” you called out, stomping after the samurai. “And those stitches in your side will need to be removed, not to mention those bandages will need to be changed out with the amount of blood already seeping through them.”

He continued his gait, not bothering to look at you, “I can take care of it.”

“You need me,” you insisted, pacing right behind him. “If you wanted that wound fixed up, you wouldn’t be lying against a tree like you were.”

“I need no maid nor nurse.”

“I have money.”

Although he tried to keep it contained, you could see the way his shoulders tensed up at your words. Or perhaps his injuries were worse than even he thought.

“Let me care for your wounds; I’ll pay for any medicine and accommodations until you’re fixed up. Then we can part ways.”

“Have you nothing better to do?” he pried, a mixture of annoyance and genuine curiosity within his question.

“The only people that require my services here,” you gestured behind you, “are old people knocking on death's door, and women who are constantly pregnant. You are the freshest breath of air I have ever had in my years of living in this shitty village.”

You took a deep inhale before continuing, “Like I said, once we’re done and you’re fully healed, I’ll leave you be. You get a free, temporary doctor, and I get a nice story to tell my future children.”

He stared through you once again, piercing eyes contemplating your offer. From your perspective, at least, it seemed flawless. Doctors were expensive, and as a samurai he clearly lacked any stable income. A free, mobile doctor guaranteed him at least some financial security, although having a companion could potentially lead to unfortunate situations if he were to land himself in danger. Which begged the question: did he have reservations about your safety, or his?

“Fine,” he sighed, head falling in resignation. “But I make the rules, and you’ll stay out of my way.”

He moved to sit on a nearby rock, carefully moving the lower half of his shirt out of the way, giving you access to the injury on his side.

“I can take care of my shoulder later,” he muttered.

You shrugged, moving to inspect and apply your salves.

“Does the samurai have a name?” you questions, dabbing an ointment into his cut.

He growled as it entered his wound, “Mizu,” he hissed, clawing at the boulder beneath him.

“I’m ____,” you said, carefully wrapping bandages around his side. “Pleasure to meet your acquaintance, master Mizu.”

“...Don’t call me that.”

“Let’s go,” Mizu announced as she hiked down the stairs, joining you at the bottom and continuing the path before you.

“Any specific destination in mind?” you probed, leaning forward to see Mizu’s expression.

“Kyoto,” she answered, face unchanging. Truly an envy to statues everywhere.

“You said you got a name from that old geezer, so what are we looking for? A place, a person, a thing…”

“I’m looking for a man.”

“So, nothing new,” you sighed, tucking your icy hands inside your hanten.

The walk wasn’t much longer, the constant crunching of snow beneath your feet filling the void of silence between you two, though its calming effect soon dissipated, leaving you annoyed with each step until you reached Kyoto.

Soon enough you were standing in line before the towering gate, guards standing in front and above the entrance. You’d never been to any kind of central hub before you met Mizu, only knowing less than a hundred people, and that’s after combing from the two villages you’ve lived in. One thing you did know, however, was that women weren’t allowed to enter without an escort. Women in your village would complain about it whenever they had to go out and sell their goods and products, though you never had to leave for your business. Perks of being a monopolist, you supposed.

“Don’t speak,” Mizu leaned into your ear, voice a hush whisper. “Stay behind me, and stay close.”

“Not my first city entering with you, Mizu,” you shot back, folding your hands in your sleeves. 

“Next!” the front guard called out, beckoning the next person forward.

A woman and her child stepped forward, showing their travel pass to the guard who sneered at it.

“This travel pass is invalid,” he declared.

You peeked over Mizu’s shoulder to get a better view at the situation taking place.

“My husband is dead. I made the baskets, he only sold them,” the woman begged, “please, or I can’t feed my children.”

The guard rolled his eyes, “You know the rules. Women can’t travel without a chaperone.”

‘Barbaric,’ you thought, sinking your nails into your forearms. Stupid rules written by stupid men. How lucky you were to have a chaperone on this trip.

“Next!” he shouted, not giving the sobbing woman another glance.

Mizu stepped forward and you followed closely behind, keeping your head down to conceal your rage.

“Travel pass,” he said boredly, his eyes briefly flickering to your form before looking back at Mizu.

Reaching into her clothing, Mizu withdrew a couple of coins, flashing the glimmering pieces to the guard who eagerly swiped them up, looking at the next people in line.

You shared a quick look with the daughter who was comforting her distraught mother, wishing there was something you could do to help. Looking up at Mizu, you saw her also gazing at the child with far less emotion on her face. Only a second had passed before Mizu looked away, marching her way past the gate and into the city, leaving you to catch up.

“Are we really not going to help her?” you blurted out as you followed Mizu through the busy streets.

If Mizu heard you, she didn’t respond, just looking at the tall snow-covered buildings lining the streets, colorful banners adorning detailed walls.

“Mizu—”

“There was nothing I could do, ____,” she scolded, turning back to look at you. “It would have caused more trouble than it was worth. I can’t afford to bring two more girls into the city, and there was no way anyone there would have left me.”

You exhaled shakily, clenching your fists and taking deep breaths in order to calm down.

“It’s just not fair,” you muttered, looking down at your feet.

Mizu sighed, placing a firm hand on your shoulder, “I promise I will try to do something for them.”

“Thank you,” you whispered, bringing your head up to look at her face, those kind and thoughtful eyes hiding behind her glasses.

She stepped away briefly, attempting to approach strangers for directions with little results. It almost caused you to feel embarrassed for her unfruitful efforts, if not for the three horses barreling straight towards her.

“Mizu, watch out!” you shouted as Mizu caught sight of the incoming horses, shooting backwards in response.

“Watch it, asshole!” the lead rider yelled, pulling on the reins of his horse.

You ran up beside Mizu, glaring at the pompous man. Mizu stuck and arm out in front of you, a silent message to contain your anger, lest you get the both of you in trouble.

“Apologies,” Mizu said, mouth pressed into a straight line, “I’m looking for something, but Kyoto is quite large. Do you know where I could find the Shindo Dojo?”

“Shindo?” the man to his left scoffed, peering down at the two of you. “That’s our dojo, and you think you’re going to apply?”

The man to his right laughed, “You look like a blind beggar!” He took his riding crop and slapped Mizu’s glasses off.

All three chuckled, pleased with their actions, one nodding his head at you.

“Are you really traveling with this guy, lady?” He extended his hand to you. “Hop on and I’ll take you for a real ride.”

Your lip curled in thinly veiled disgust, “Thank you for the offer, sir, but I’m quite pleased with my current situation.”

Mizu let out a long sigh, putting on a smile, “If you would please show me how to find your dojo, I would be grateful.”

“Sure,” the left man said, “follow the road to the shrine. Once you go around the gates, you'll see the sign across the puppet show.”

“Good luck!” they called back, laughing as they rode. You spit on the ground they had been as their horses galloped away.

Wiping off the snow that had been kicked up onto her shoulder, Mizu began to follow the directions given to her, leaving you to do most of the talking, as per usual.

“Bastards,” you growled, “pissants, the lot of them.”

“Calm down,” Mizu ordered, searching for your destination.

“Calm down? Calm down? Those cocky dickheads deserve every misfortune they come across.”

“Keep your eye out for a puppet show.”

“And the way he thought I’d just crumple to my knees and get on his stupid horse! Can you believe that?”

“Around the gates…”

“Not even mentioning the way they treated you, as if you couldn’t kick their asses with one arm tied behind your back. Shindo Dojo my ass.”

“There are consequences for attacking without consent of a duel first, and the last thing I want to do is be sent to prison for something as foolish as defending my honor,” Mizu said, turning the corner.

“Would you defend my honor?” you smiled, waiting for an answer.

“No.”

Well, it was an answer, at least.

The bustling city around you left no room for conversation, only the need to dodge passersby and merchants attempting to sell you goods that you had no use for. As you walked further and further into the city, the traders trickled away, only peeping men lined the streets now, peering inside the countless brothels.

“Why would a dojo be in a red light district?” you pondered aloud, trying your best to not make eye contact.

“For once,” Mizu answered, nose scrunched up, “we’re having similar thoughts…”

Your destination was only a few buildings down, and judging by the lewd ongoings within, was certainly not the Shindo Dojo.

“You two look lost,” a sultry voice cooed, arms stretching out to grab you and Mizu.

Standing in front of the brothel were two very dressed up women, crimson dusting their cheeks, matching the vibrant red that decorated their lips and eyes.

“We were just leaving,” you asserted, shaking out of their hold.

The woman laughed, going over to hug Mizu’s arm, “Why don’t you come inside, lost boy? Rest a while…with us.”

You found it difficult to conceal your revulsion, not eager to picture Mizu having relations while you had to wait in the other room. Though judging from Mizu’s shocked face, she didn’t seem too fond of the idea either.

“I’m looking for the Shindo Dojo—” she began, quickly interrupted by an old man being thrown out of the brothel. A naked, old man.

“Which, I can see…” Mizu grimaced, “this is not.”

“You think?” you snorted, earning a dirty look from Mizu.

“It’s better,” the shorter prostitute said, smiling. “It's the Shindo House. If it’s sword skills you’re wanting to show off, you can do it here.”

The taller prostitute grinned, “We can polish up the tip for you…”

A shudder went down your spine at the sight of their flirtations, giving you the strength needed to put an end to this conversation.

“We’re terribly busy, and have urgent business at the Shindo Dojo,” you insisted, trying to pull Mizu away from the women.

“Oh, are you sure, little pearl? If you wanted to join in, all you had to do was ask. Jealousy is a painful vice,” the tall one purred, snaking her arm around your shoulder. “And there’s no fee for adding a third…unpaid party.”

You could feel the heat flooding to your face, unable to even sputter in response to her offer.

A hand suddenly struck out between you and the woman, grabbing her wrist and gently removing it from your shoulder. Mizu glared at the woman, watching coldly as she shrunk away from you.

“You’re serious, huh?” the short woman smirked, nudging her coworker to step away from you. “Alright, love birds. Walk east to the Kamo River. Take the bridge to the temple with the thousand creepy statues. It's on the hill just past.”

Mizu’s head swiftly dipped into a bow, not looking up at you.

“I wish you a successful day of business,” she muttered, covering her face with her hand as she began raising her head up.

Interrupting her bow, however, was a loud crash from the puppet stand behind you. Looking at the show, or rather, what remained of it, revealed a portly young man standing above the wreckage. The same young man from the noodle shop.

“Hey, Mizu, isn’t that—”

“How much for one night?” she quickly asked, noting the price given to her.

“...How much for three.���

.

.

.

“Mizu,” you began, “would that man, by chance, be the person following us on our way here?”

“I didn’t think he’d get out of those ropes,” she groaned, walking across the expansive bridge.

“You tied him up?” you gawked, staring in shock at her nonchalant attitude.

“I could have killed him,” she pointed out, bringing a hand up to crack her neck. “I was merciful; he would have disrupted my quest.”

“And I don’t?”

“You provide a service.”

“Don’t make me sound like your pocket prostitute,” you half-heartedly teased.

Mizu sputtered, her collected facade briefly crumbling after hearing your words.

“I—ahm, hadn’t meant to imply—”

“Make way for Princess Akemi!” a voice rang out some distance behind you.

Traveling down the bridge from where you had just come was a gold accented palanquin being carried by an assortment of attendants. Those walking alongside you quickly made their way to the sides of the bridge, bowing before the royalty before them.

A tug on your sleeve by Mizu pulled you out of the way, standing beside her as the palanquin passed by you. Through the bars of the carrier you could see its passenger, the Princess Akemi, or so they announced. Perhaps you could have quipped about her status, the fact that she probably looked down on everyone around her. Or maybe her vanity, refusing to use her own feet to walk anywhere, relying on servants to carry her to and fro.

But a single glimpse of her face left you wordless—breathless. The makeup she wore only enhanced her best features, though it looked like all her features were her best. One look at Mizu confirmed you felt the same, her lips parting slightly as the palanquin continued down the bridge.

“She’s awfully pretty,” you sighed wistfully, watching the palanquin disappear into the city.

Mizu cleared her throat, regaining her wits, “Beautiful women can be found everywhere. It is our status that defines our beauty to the world.”

“It’s alright, Mizu,” you shrugged, “jealousy is a normal emotion, even for samurai.”

“I am not jealous,” she swiftly defended herself.

“Denial is an even worse look,” you sang, following her along the final stretch of bridge as you made your way up to the dojo.

It stood atop a hill just above the city, a single lone temple amidst a barren field it was laid upon. A lonely dojo, in your opinion, although the path to it was rather serene.

“If I have to walk up any more stairs, Mizu,” you groaned, approaching the temple, “we’re gonna have a problem.”

“Air your grievances now, then.” she curtly replied, moving to hit the door knockers. “Walking is only a small part of this journey.”

“Then why is it all we do?” you muttered, crossing your arms.

A small slit opened after a couple seconds, revealing the judgemental eyes of a man.

“No new students, find another school,” he barked, shutting the opening.

“Pretentious, aren’t they?” you snickered.

Mizu rolled her eyes and banged on the door again, the man appearing quickly.

“I’m not a student,” she said, annoyed, “but I do bring a message for the master of this place.”

The opening shut, only for one at the bottom to reveal itself, a hand sticking out expectantly.

“I must deliver it personally,” Mizu muttered, eyes narrowing.

The man vanished from the slit, shutting it behind him. Only a few moments passed between you and Mizu before the grand entrance began to slowly open, revealing the incredibly vast courtyard to you.

Mizu began walking forward to join the sentry, only for him to raise a hand towards you.

“Women are forbidden from entering the dojo,” he said solemnly, taking up a cold expression as he refused you entry.

You tightened your shoulders, standing straight and giving the man your best smile, tilting your head ever so slightly.

“Oh, sir, I must beseech you,” you pleaded, running up and clinging to his robes. “For he is my husband, and I would loathe to separate from him even for a single second! I fear what may happen to me if he were to disappear from my sight, for he is my protector, and I his perfect blossom. That is why I beg you, do not allow us to be apart!”

The sentry turned to Mizu for a response, raising an eyebrow.

She cleared her throat and you could immediately tell she would be giving you a dirty look if she had not been so surprised by your improvisation.

“...Yes, I would be most pleased if my wife were to accompany me. She is rather…frail and weak, and it would break my heart if anything were to happen to my…wife…” she said, her less than convincing acting leaning heavily on your own performance.

“Fine,” he grimaced, peeling you off. “But you are not permitted to speak in this place, keep your head down and your mouth shut.”

You smiled in response, walking over to join your ‘husband,’ looping your arm into his beneath his shawl, smirking internally at her pink-dusted face.

Arm in arm you walked up to the main room of the dojo, passing by different groups of men training. You could tell that Mizu was alert, noting each and every person you passed on your way to meet the head.

Upon entering the sweeping room, you kneeled beside Mizu, keeping your head bowed so as to not cause any disturbance during her negotiations. Though the man in front of you seemed unconcerned with your behavior, if interested in you at all.

“You may leave any message with me,” he spoke, not pausing his calligraphy.

“What must be said must be said to the master directly,” Mizu pressed.

“I assure you, what is for the master is for me,” he continued, “as I assure you the master does not meet with messengers.”

“He will for me.”

Her blatant disrespect caused the man to pause, setting his brush down and looking directly at her.

“​​You stand before the Shindo School.” He stood from his table. “For 200 years, we have taught here the Shindo-Ryu, secret methods passed down from Priest Soto, taught to him on the peak of Mount Kurama by the mystic Tengu themselves,” he snarled. “Show your respect!”

Mizu continued to stare at the floor, unaffected by the man’s long speech.

 “I must insist,” she said.

The man’s mouth pressed into a thin line, looking at the samurai standing behind you both.

“Escort them anywhere you please that is far from here,” he ordered.

One man, a part of the group that harassed you when you arrived in Kyoto, stepped forward and reached an arm out, “Come on, you blind beggar.”

“You are bound by hospitality to feed a traveler within your gate,” Mizu said hurriedly. “My wife and I came very far, and we’re very hungry. Or has the Shindo Dojo done away with etiquette?”

His lip curled in annoyance at Mizu’s demands, “Feed them,” he sneered, “then throw them out.

The samurai surged for your arms, dragging you down hallways and into a cramped storage room with a single barred window.

“Eat,” one said, chucking a bowl of rice (if you could even call it that) onto the small table, “then take your whore and get out.”

They laughed heartily at their insults, taking their leave and slamming the door shut behind them, leaving you and Mizu alone.

You chose to sit on top of a barrel while you waited, observing Mizu’s face as she watched the training going on outside, a tiny smile finding its way on her lips.

“Daydream all you want,” you spoke up, “but you’re the one who’s gonna have to come up with a plan.”

She broke away from her view, turning to look at you with a glint in her eye.

“I already have one.”

.

.

.

“Move it, you two,” the samurai ushered, pushing you forward as you walked through the turning halls.

Mizu stopped in her tracks, remaining still despite their threats.

“This will be much simpler if you allow me to speak with your master,” she said slowly, not bothering to look at them.

“Mizu,” you hissed, “don’t make this any more difficult.”

“You heard your wife, beggar boy. No one sees the master, least of all you.”

One stretched their hand out, aiming to grab your shoulder, only for Mizu to step in between the two of you.

“I cannot leave here until I speak to the master of this dojo,” she pressed as he attempted to dislodge her, unable to do so.

“Oh, good,” the men chuckled, drawing their swords. “We get to kill you.”

Mizu’s fingers extended, pointing her middle and index downwards. You smiled, giving a polite bow before continuing the path out of the dojo, arriving at the entrance to the main room. Stepping out into the thin snow and leaning against a pillar, you removed your inro, unpacking the supplies you might need after Mizu’s activities.

You could hear the events going on inside, a mixture of yelling and screaming, of rage and pain brewing within the fighters. Not a peep from Mizu, however. Soon enough, the old samurai from earlier—perhaps he was second in command, though you didn’t exactly care—came running outside, nose bleeding and with a nasty mark spanning diagonally across his face. It seemed that Mizu was getting excited.

“See you later, samurai,” you cooed as he sprinted out of the dojo and through the gates, leaving you alone to laugh at his cowardice.

You hadn’t expected him to return, however.

Entering through the wide open gates, followed by the older man, was a much younger one. He wore a green kimono decorated with the symbol of the dojo, hair tied back into a tall bun with stray pieces framing his face.

“You come to fight, pretty boy?” you teased as he approached, still fiddling with your supplies.

He scoffed, raising an eyebrow at your words, “You? I was told—”

“Inside, dumbass. Does it look like I’m a warrior?” you sneered, rejoining your inro to your obi.

The old man’s eyes widened at your disrespect, “How dare you, a woman—!”

“You got your ass kicked by some country boy. Come back and correct my attitude after you’ve killed him, you shitty old man.”

It seemed impossible for his eyes to get even bigger, but after your words they seemed to be the size of plates.

He attempted to march up to you, only to be stopped by the young man.

“We can deal with this after the samurai is dealt with,” he reasoned, giving you a dirty look.

You laughed to yourself as they entered the dojo, leaving you alone outside once again.

The familiar sounds of fighting broke out shortly after the man’s entrance, joined in harmony by the harsh sounds of breaking wood, undoubtedly caused by Mizu’s quirk of using the environment around her to fight. It was fun to watch, until you had to pay the bill for a duel inside an inn. 

Eventually, the noises began to grow louder—no, closer. You caught a glimpse of the chaotic symphony as Mizu and her enemy, the young man from before, fought their way into the main room. Before you could even blink, Mizu had been thrown across the room, a wooden sword hurled right at her. 

“With a naked blade,” he scoffed, “you’d be dead.”

You immediately stood up and ran towards her, picking up her fallen glasses as you made your way over. She brushed you aside, however, turning her neck to look at the young man, not bothering to shield her eyes. 

A small gasp left him, his cocky demeanor quickly vanishing the moment he laid saw her.

“You had a name for me,” she stated, rising to her feet.

“Taigen, you cannot allow that to dishonor us or you,” the old man commanded, fuming at Mizu. “Kill him.”

The battle quickly changed to a formal duel as the two young samurai made their way outside to take the other’s life. You followed Mizu, standing a fair distance behind her to give her space to butcher the man. Taigen, or so he was called.

He drew his weapon first, discarding the sheath onto the fresh snow below and pointing it directly at Mizu.

“Are you afraid to fight with steel?” he asked, brows furrowed in determination.

You snorted at his comment.

Mizu just chuckled softly, “Thank you,” she said with a smile. “No one has yet deserved my blade.”

She slowly removed her sword from her sheath, drawing the magnificently crafted blade and wielding it with two hands, taking a stance before Taigen.

“You have a blade by Master Eiji?” he gawked, only serving to change Mizu’s smile to a snide grin.

A tense moment was shared between the two, and all you could do was stand by and watch. You knew Mizu was smart, least of all capable. She wouldn’t throw her life away in some stupid duel, not when she still hadn’t gotten her revenge. This was just a simple stop on the way, something to remind her of what was at stake.

Mizu wouldn’t lose, not here.

Taigen was first to act, running up to Mizu with his sword at his side, prepared to strike. She reacted unusually, however, breaking in a crouch and swinging her sword at the ground, kicking up a flurry of snow. Taigen hardly faltered, only spinning around to avoid blinding himself and swung his sword across to hit Mizu. His maneuver was a short-lived victory, as Mizu ran her sword beneath him, the blades moving across one another and letting sparks fly. 

Mizu had made the first wound, slicing a shallow cut into Taigen’s neck, crimson drops of blood blotting the pure white snow beneath them.

The next strikes were harsh, as Taigen hadn’t so much as flinched at his injury, striking with the same vigor he had before. Despite Mizu’s skills, Taigen found a hole in her defense, using his strength to his advantage to press his sword into her shoulder and throw her to the ground, knocking her blade away.

You felt your body grow cold as Taigen stomped over to Mizu, angling his sword to her neck. Was it really going to end like this? All that traveling, killing, and plotting, just for Mizu to die at the hand of some low life samurai?

“Death comes for everyone,” Taigen spat, bringing the blade closer to her. “For you, today.”

He turned around and gave a nod to his fellow samurai behind him, giving Mizu one final look before sending a hard kick into her chest as a final blow to her and her ego.

You attempted to rush to her side, only to receive a scowl from Mizu, stopping you in your tracks. From your current viewpoint, she looked relatively uninjured, at least nothing terribly deep. She was clutching her shoulder, but the cut looked shallow. The doctor inside begged you to ignore her scornful face and help her, to put your work to good use, though you knew her anger would be twofold what it was if you were to intervene.

You watched intently as she brushed a fistful of snow across her face and swept her lingering strand of hair out of the way, those sapphire eyes shining with anger as they shot open.

She reached for her arms, pulling a string and releasing the weights that had been wrapped around her forearms. Repeating the action to the other arm, as well as her ankles, Mizu made eye contact with Taigen who turned around to witness her revitalization.

Reaching for her sword with lightning fast reflexes, she charged towards Taigen and side-stepped his attack, disarming him without a second thought and dealing a brutal slice to his calf. Disoriented and in pain, Taigen was easily lifted and tossed, skidding across the snow and meeting the edge of Mizu’s blade.

The two were panting heavily from exhaustion, whereas you were releasing a breath you’d been holding for the past minute. Mizu had bested her opponent and lived, earning you another day of employment.

“Stop!” a strong voice bellowed, their cry echoing across the courtyard of the dojo.

Your eyes darted to the new figure, one dressed more elegantly than his fellow samurai, a dark kataginu worn over top of his burnt orange kimono.

Mizu joined you in gazing at the man, still out of breath, “You, are the master of this school?” she panted.

He gave an affirmative hum.

“Your students need better training,” she quipped, withdrawing her blade from Taigen’s throat.

“You have a message for me,” he said, the command of a leader in his voice.

“A question,” she corrected, putting strong emphasis on her next words. “Where may I find your brother, the black market merchant Heiji Shindo?”

You felt your eyes go wide at her words, unknowing of her plan during your travels to Kyoto. All this? Just for the name of another man? You had to clench your teeth in order to stop yourself from interrupting their conversation.

The man was just as shocked as you, a myriad of expressions moving across his face all at once, finally arriving to dwell in his voice as he spoke, “You did all this to find my brother? Why?”

Mizu’s blade returned to Taigen’s throat, a silent threat to prevent any more prying questions.

Clearing his throat, he answered with an air of mustered strength, “Heiji Shindo is in the fortress on Tanabe Island, protected by the Genken Clan,” he said, beginning to narrow his eyes. “Whatever business you have with him, you will never reach him.”

Without another word, Mizu sheathed her sword and gave a mockingly polite bow to the head before walking to your side. 

“You're still…a dog.” Taigen groaned, attempting to gain his bearings from the ground.

Helpless and unwilling to stop Mizu’s righteous anger, you simply watched as she whipped around and slid across the ground, not even bothering to unsheath her sword for an unworthy opponent such as Taigen. The blade made its purchase, swinging just inches above his head and decapitating his top knot with the talent and skill of an unrivaled barber.

His golden hairpiece clattered to the earth, softened by the lingering snow it landed upon. Mizu scooped it up and tucked it into her shirt, continuing her pace without sparing a look towards the countless wounded samurai behind her.

The glimmering hairpiece was tossed into your hands as Mizu walked past you, stepping past the towering gates with you in tow, finally making your exit from the dojo she had undoubtedly made a fool of.

.

.

.

“Heiji Shindo, huh?” you said, breaking the silence as you both descended the path down the hill. “Can we buy horses this time around?”

“No,” she immediately responded, “we need to be careful, at least while leaving this city. I have made enemies of many men here.”

“Well, I’m assuming you’ve fully removed their ability to ride a horse, though I don’t really care to hear how you did it…” you trailed off, trying your best to not imagine the horrors Mizu inflicted on those pitiable samurai. “Could we buy horses in the next city? We’ll be farther by then, putting more distance if there are people after us.”

“If you can afford it, then we can buy two. Until then, we walk.”

“Two? Why, my dear husband, we only need to buy one!” you sang, reveling in the way Mizu’s body briefly froze up at the intimate word. “Unless you want your useless, obedient wife to ride alone.”

“...I have no comment for your unending teasing,” she finally replied, crossing her arms.

“If you want to see teasing, you should turn around.” You finished securing her conical hat to your head, tying the last knot just as Mizu turned around to see you, letting you see the newly-formed pout on her rosy face as she saw you in her hat.

“Enough,” she ordered, stopping in front of you to reclaim her headgear, standing at least two heads above you.

“I think it suits me,” you whined while copying her pout, unable to stop her from reclaiming her hat.

She adjusted her hat and quickly tied it beneath her chin, continuing the walk through the cold, empty streets of Kyoto. The wind had kicked up since your time at the dojo, blowing harshly through the streets and depositing snow onto the roofs above. It made you wish you held onto Mizu’s hat for just a little longer, if only to escape the snow falling into your hair.

The gates at the front of the city opened for your exit, letting you step out onto the path leading into the forest. You stopped, however, noticing the mother and daughter from earlier, from when you first arrived in Kyoto. They were freezing, icy puffs of air pulled from their lips as they huddled close together for warmth. Your heart tugged towards them, clenching your fists in a moment of helplessness. The hairpiece gently pricked the walm of your hand as you squeezed, and you reopened it, looking at the expensive decoration and dropping it near their huddled forms.

You did your best to remain quiet as you walked away and down the path, into the sparse woods alongside Mizu. The trees did not grow in number as you walked, only growing in age, becoming thicker and taller, framing the night sky above. Mizu stopped in the middle of a clearing, causing you to stop behind her, trying to give her some space. You could tell she was looking up to the cloudy sky, and although you could hear her mumbling, you couldn’t catch the words in full.

You were, however, able to catch the familiar red droplets of blood that landed and melted into the snow below, reminding you of Mizu’s forgotten shoulder wound.

“You couldn’t have reminded me?” you hissed, stomping over and throwing her arm across your shoulder, which she brushed off.

“It’s my arm, not my leg,” she reasoned.

“If you didn’t want me to play doctor, you shouldn’t have brought me.”

“You brought yourself,” she snorted, turning her head in a different direction. “There’s a hot spring that way, you can ‘play doctor’ when we get there.”

You rolled your eyes, following her as you made your way to the hot spring. It was more impressive than you thought, multiple spouts of water differing in intensity spilling into the warm pool below, life barely blooming amidst the freezing conditions surrounding it.

Mizu began removing her accessories while you removed your inro, gathering your needed supplies to care for her wound.

“You need help with your bandages?” you asked, gesturing to her chest.

“I’ve got it,” she said, giving one last look around before letting her hair down.

She slowly removed her clothes, unwinding the bandages that bound her chest tightly. You did your best not to look, giving her much needed privacy as you began to undress yourself, folding your kimono nicely and resting your inro on top.

“Mind if I take a look at it, Mizu?” you politely requested, sinking your body into the warm spring. 

Mizu hummed, joining you into the water. Her body wasn’t entirely covered by the water from where she was standing—as well as her height, leaving her to stand awkwardly as you inspected her wound. It was both worse than you thought and better than you expected, long but not deep. The wrapping would be awkward, but infection wouldn’t be a worry, especially after this short bath.

It took all the strength you had to keep your eyes trained on her upper chest, though, luckily, her lower chest was being covered by her arms. Her very strong arms, that is. Her whole body was a surprising wonder, no doubt in part due to her constant wearing of those weights. She was able to throw Taigen a fair distance, she could probably pick you up with no problem. No problem at all…

“...You alright down there?” Mizu interrupted your thoughts, and immediately you could feel your face heating up.

“Yeah, ah—I can take care of it afterwards, just try and clean it out a little bit,” you stammered, moving further into the water.

Her gaze lingered on you for a moment more before she moved closer to one of the low water falls, climbing atop the stone beneath for some brief meditation.

You spent your alone time cleaning up, rubbing off any dirt and deep cleaning your hair, the buildup of grease and who knows what else disappearing into the water below, leaving you to grab your needle and thread from your inro.

“I’m ready when you are, Mizu,” you called out, waving your needle for her to see.

She begrudgingly moved to the side by you, biting her lip as you gently applied the stinging ointment to her wound. You’d done this song and dance with her before, and as time went on Mizu had grown used to the bite of your medicine, her howls and cries dying with each new injury.

“Need something to bite on?” you asked before continuing your work.

“I’ll be fine,” she exhaled, shutting her eyes tight.

And so you began, weaving the needle in and out of her wound, carefully pulling it closed and tying the string off.

“Alright, good as new” you muttered, cutting the string. “Don’t touch, don’t scratch, don’t—”

“Not our first time, I know the drill,” she chuckled.

“Well, feel free to relax now,” you sighed, slouching down into the water and shutting your eyes in bliss. 

You enjoyed the time you had in the spring before leaving, reveling in the brief relaxation. Your eyes remained shut while you laid down, hearing her eventually join you in laying down. 

Loud footsteps caused your eyes to shoot open, and you saw that Mizu had already risen from the water, rushing to the ground and grabbing her sword. You scrambled for your kimono, searching for the small dagger tucked on the inside, planning to defend yourself, or worse if the situation called for it.

The figure stumbled through the shadows and into the clearing, meeting Mizu head on and shrieking loudly. You peaked from the spring, seeing Mizu pointing her blade and Ringo, the noodle maker’s son from long ago. He tilted his head, staring with wide eyes at Mizu and finally landing on your frightened expression.

“...Peaches?”

The dojo master prostrated himself before the man seated in the opulent chair, the dimly lit room illuminated only by the moonlit and roaring fireplace.

“Forgive me for giving your location, my brother. He was unstoppable,” he apologized, slowly rising into an upward kneel as his voice began to trail off. “He defeated my every student…” 

The man released a displeased hum, “Your students need better training,” he sneered, turning his head to the old face that walked in.

“The samurai, he's not human,” the old man—Hachiman—said, a mix of fury and bewilderment crossing his face as he recollected. “I saw its eyes.”

“A lone samurai, then?” the man asked, flickering his gaze between the two men before him.

“He had a companion,” the brother spoke, raising his head. “She had no weapon nor joined his fighting.”

The man scoffed, resting his chin on the palm of his hand, “So, a lone samurai with a useless woman.”

“The Four Fangs,” a rich, yet rough, accented voice spoke up, clearly bored by the conversation taking place right next to him. “Send the Four Fangs after this samurai and his girl.”

He grabbed an apple and twirled in between his fingers, “Double their price and be done with it.”

A sickening grin formed on the man’s face as he took in his companion’s words, rising from his chair as he left to distribute orders.

Alone in the room, the Irishman stared at his reflection in the apple, tilting his head as he questioned aloud.

“I wonder, lonesome samurai,” he cooed, taking a bite of the fruit, “why carry a whore ‘round with you when you have so much to lose?”

He tossed the unfinished remains of the apple behind him, turning his head to the window beside him.

“Ah, who gives a shit,” he laughed, snatching another apple. “They’ll both die anyways.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Same as it ever was 11

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as neglect, bullying, manipulation, cheating, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

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

Summary: Between your home life and work, you just can’t catch a break. Especially after you draw the ire of your boss.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen ft. Pete Brenner

Note: I'm just tryna get through the week.

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

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

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The waiting room is excruciating. You find yourself standing more than you sit. Both are torture. Your concern mounts with your discomfort and the more you think of Hansen’s response. He’s a demanding asshole, he told you several times he takes what he wants, but today, he let you go. Even he could see something was seriously wrong.

Funny how you never dread the doctor so much when you’re there for Simone or Malik, but for yourself, it makes your insides knot. You can’t even think of the last time you made an appointment for yourself. That’s probably not good either.

As the doctor examines you and goes over your symptoms, you wince and struggle not to keel over. He’s patient and gentle, treatment you’re unused to. That stray realisation is even grimmer as it sticks in your head.

“Hmm, I’m going to be optimistic and say it’s a bruised tailbone,” he explains, “we can send you for imaging to check for a fracture but it wouldn’t likely be possible today. I’ll call the lab with a request, just to make sure.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” you lean on the examination table, “so what does that mean? Painkillers? Stretches?”

“Rest,” he points at you with his gold pen, “avoid sitting. You want to keep pressure off the tailbone. Lay on your stomach when you sleep.” He tucks his pen in his coat pocket and goes to the cabinet in the corner by the sink, “you’ll want to keep this handy.” He opens the door and slips out a box, “it’ll help.”

As he gives you the box, you consider the image of the donut cushion on the front. The inflatable seat is stuffed into the tight package. You’re not unfamiliar with it.

“Apply ice. Every twenty minutes for the next two days, then two to three times a day should work,” he takes his pen out and his little pad, writing as he talks. “Make your husband do some of the chores.”

You cringe. You nod as you accept his advice. You were just about to argue; you have two kids and a job.

“I’m writing you a note. You’re not working for a week at least. I’ll fax a letter that should be acceptable for the time-off,” he rips off the top page and hands it over.

“Thank you,” you utter again as you look at his chicken scratch. “What is this?”

“Something for the pain and something for your blood pressure.”

“My blood pressure?”

“Your readings are elevated. It could be stress, it could be anything. Right now, I want you to keep track. Measure it and write it down. Come back in a month so we can go over the numbers.”

“Is it that bad?”

“At your age, it’s not entirely unusual,” he assures you, “better we catch it before it’s too serious. You get headaches? Feel tired?”

“Well, I have kids, I’m always tired and yes, they give me headaches sometimes,” you shrug.

“How often do the headaches come?”

“I don’t know, sometimes two or three times a week.”

“Do you have a history of migraines?”

“Not since college,” you answer.

“Ah,” he nods. “Take the pills, icy your tailbone, and stay in bed.”

“Doctor,” you go to argue.

“If it isn’t already a break, you’ll make it one,” he girds, “the lab will call you about your imaging appointment.”

You swallow down his orders. They’re much easier to follow than Hansen’s. And surely better for you. You thank him once more and leave the room, stopping by the counter to give your work address and get your imaging paperwork.

As you get to the car, you unpack the cushion and use the little pump to inflate it. You drop it on the seat and get in. It still hurts like a bitch but not intolerable. You sit behind the wheel and stare. 

You could cry as you go over the appointment. Is it that obvious that you don’t take care of yourself? That you don’t have time? The doctor saw right through you and that brings it all flooding in. You’re barely holding it all together, you’re not sure how much longer you can.

You make yourself start the car and pull out of the lot. You go down to the pharmacy and turn in the script, wandering the aisles as you wait for it to be filled. You take out your phone to check the time. A missed call from Pete and another from Hansen. You don’t have the energy for either of them. Once you have your meds, you have to get the kids.

You claim your prescriptions and start your race against time. Waiting to see the doctor alone took up the bulk of your day. Now you have to get through the rest.

You nearly speed up to the curb of the school, at the tail end of the pick-up as the clock ticks on. You roll around as you see Simone and Malik waiting with Mrs. Guinness. You roll down the window and wave, thanking her loudly as the kids rush to the car.

You get out to strap Malik into his seat as Simone grips her book in her lap but doesn’t open it. You’re breathing loudly as the pain coils around your spine. You muffle it and give her a smile as she watches you. Her eyes dart to the front seat.

“Mom, are you okay?”

“Good,” you say as you snap the buckles together.

“What’s that for?” She points to the cushion.

“The seat’s uncomfortable,” you grunt and push yourself out of the back door. 

You shut the door and get in the front. You settle in, clicking in your own belt and fix your mirror. Simone is smart, too smart. She’s quiet as you shift into drive.

“Mommy, mommy! We played a game today–”

“Shh,” Simone interjects, silencing her brother, “mom,” she utter tenuously, “are you pregnant?”

You nearly scoff as you grip the wheel tight. You laugh and shake your head. “Why would you ask that?”

“Well…” she lets her thoughts hang in the air before she speaks to them, “you and dad have been… arguing and you have that cushion.”

“Trust me, I’m too old,” you shake your head, “don’t worry, you won’t be having another little brother.”

“Oh,” she hums, disappointed, “I was hoping for a sister.”

You take a breath. It’s all so complicated but some of it isn’t. They’re going to know sooner than later.

“Look, the cushion is because I hurt myself. I was waiting until we got home to tell you but I fell and hit my bum pretty bad. Got some bruising is all,” you explain lightly, “doctor says I’m good, just need to rest.”

“Mommy’s hurt?” Malik babbles. 

“Oh,” Simone accepts again, “I… does dad know?”

“He’s been working but I’m gonna give him a call,” you fight to keep your tone steady, “he’s gonna have to come home and help me out a bit.”

“Mommy, you can have Donny, he’ll make you feel better.”

“Mal, she doesn’t want your stupid dragon.”

“Sim,” you rebuff, “don’t be mean. Malik, you can bring Donny in to snuggle with me, okay? That’s really nice of you.”

“Ugh,” Simone huffs and you see her roll her eyes in the rear view.

“Sim, do you have enough time between chapters to help with dinner?” You tease. She doesn’t answer. “Oh, don’t worry, I can manage some mac and cheese on my own.”

You flip on the radio and let the music waft through the car, trying to push away the other worries. You are going to have to call Pete but you really don’t know how much help he’s going to be.

🗄️

You pull into the driveway and repress a groan. You’re really starting to feel it. Your legs are numb yet painful. You push yourself out of the car and grab your purse and the cushion, your keys jingling loudly in your hand.

You open the back door but Simone’s too quick. She’s right beside you, waving you off.

“I’ll get him out,” she insists, “the doctor said.”

“I know what the doctor said,” you chuckle, “thanks, Sim.”

Another car door snaps shut from somewhere unseen. You don’t think much of it as other neighbours often get home at the same time. You wait patiently for your daughter to unbuckle Malik as he squirms impatiently.

“About damn time,” the timbre roils in the air hotly.

You almost let a ‘shit’ slip through your lips as Hansen’s voice makes you tense. You squeeze the cushion and look over Simone’s head at him. She lifts Malik down onto the ground and she turns to face your uninvited guest.

“Ew, it’s him,” she sneers.

“Nice to see you too, toots,” he struts up the walk with his hands in his pockets, “isn’t this sweet? Got the whole clan together.”

“What are you doing here?” Simone challenges.

He tilts his head, brows arching, “you know, maybe I should give your mom some time off so she can teach you some manners.”

“Hansen,” you put your hand on Simone’s shoulder and sidle past her and echo the same question, “what are you doing here?”

“I’m actually being a good guy,” he leans around, speaking to Simone pointedly, “not evil at all. Checking in since I sent you off to the hospital.”

You hesitate. That’s not exactly believable. You know why he’s here; to taunt you. At least he has the discretion to try to hide that from your children.

“Bruised tailbone, doctor is sending a letter, I’ll have to take a few days off to recover,” you say cautiously, knowing he won’t like the news.

“A few days…” he mulls with a sour expression, “bullsh–” he stops himself as Malik comes for to cling to your leg, peeking out from behind you.

“Mommy,” your son whines, “I wanna go inside.”

“Tell him to go away,” Simone hisses.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Hansen, I gotta get the kids inside and make dinner–”

“You can do all that but you can’t drag your –behind– to work,” he challenges.

“I have a doctor’s note–”

“I don’t f–” he struggles to censor himself, stopping as he waves off his agitation. He exhales and wipes the frustration from his face, “you’re right. You’re in bad shape, it’s plain to see. So where’s the husband? Shouldn't he be here doing the heavy lifting?”

“My dad’s on his way home,” Simone insists.

“Yeah, he’ll be here soon,” you repeat her lie, “to help.”

“Well, he ain’t,” Hansen bounces on his feet, “but I am, so why don’t I help you out, huh? We need you back to work,” he reaches for your purse, latching onto the strap. “So you should rest.”

“Dude, go,” Simone snarls and pushes his arm.

“Hey,” he growls back at her. “I’m helping.”

“We don’t want your help. She’s not at work, you don’t boss her around here.”

“Simone, Mr. Hansen,” you snip, “please.”

“I’m being a nice guy,” Lloyd retracts his hand and throws it up, “she’s the one making this hard.”

You look at your daughter as she sticks her tongue out.

“She’s twelve,” you state.

“Yeah, and what are you? Sixty?” Simone accuses him.

He recoils, his lashes batting violently, “excuse me?”

“Oh my god,” you sigh, “Simone, take your brother inside,” you hold your keys out, “let me talk to him. It’s just work.”

“And the doctor said–”

“Please, Simone, thank you,” you shake the keys.

She sniffs and takes them. She blows a raspberry at Hansen as she grabs Malik and tears him away from your legs. You rub your neck, the donut cushion around your elbow, as you wait, staring at Hansen as he watches over your shoulder.

“Why?” You ask pointedly.

“What? I’m being good. I let you see a doctor for your fucked up booty and now I’m just tryna fill the hole left by that deadbeat–”

“Not in front of my kids,” you say.

“I was polite.”

“You are arguing with a twelve year old,” you shake your head, “please, I will do my best to get back to work. I know you don’t give a shit but I’m in so much pain, I can’t handle this right now. So please, go.”

“Huh, alright, let’s understand something here, you might be a little broken at the moment but you don’t tell me what to do,” he snarls, “that’s the first thing. Second, you put a muzzle on that daughter–”

“Don’t,” you warn.

“That mouth,” he points in your face, “it’s the ass that’s bruised, not that.”

You clamp your lips tight as your nostrils flare. You stand in a deadlock, silently glaring back at your boss. You feel the tension ready to snap. This is the moment where you could fuck everything up.

Neither of you speak, each measuring your next word but almost afraid to say it. A screech of tires veers in behind your car and fills the end of the driveway. You flinch and look past Hansen as Pete’s garish sports car beams back at you.

“Just in time,” Hansen mutters as he turns slowly.

Pete hops out and swings the door shut, almost frantic as his hair flops forward.

“Hey, I’ve been calling,” he puffs and stops short as he notices Hansen, “uh, everything okay? Where… are the kids?”

“Inside,” you eke out, clearing the frog from your throat, “everything is good, alright?” You try to convince yourself as much as your husband, “Mr. Hansen was just checking in. I missed work today. I went to see the doctor about… my fall.”

Pete blanches and nods, giving a guilty glance to his leather shoes.

“Yeah?” He dares to look at you, “you okay?”

“Bruised,” you answer bluntly, “so I was just telling Mr. Hansen that I am fine. I just need a few days to rest. And I was going to call to tell you the same but I had to get the kids.”

“Your wife’s a busy woman,” Hansen interjects, “hard worker. And she speaks so highly of you, bud.” He claps Pete’s shoulder, “you’re a businessman?”

Pete twitches, as if surprised. He looks at Hansen’s grasp on his shoulder but doesn’t shove it off. There’s a moment of recognition in his eye. Men and their ‘business’.

“Yeah, I run a fitness agency. We do equipment and training, aiming to get into the big leagues, you know, furnish facilities on the National scale,” Pete goes into his pitch.

“Ah, fitness, thriving right now,” Hansen slips easily into his role, “you know, I’m not wearing Louis Vuittons because I work in a dipshit office. I invest and I do it well.” He pulls his hand back and puts it on his hip, “why don’t you tell me more about this agency? I’m intrigued.”

You just stare. This has been an awful, painful day and it just won’t end.

“Uh, yeah, sure, come on in,” Pete sputters excitedly, waving him up the drive. “I got all my stuff in my bag.”

“Great, dinner’s on me,” Hansen offers, “for your time.”

“Oh, awesome,” Pete grins, “I’ll just get my bag out of the car. Honey,” he turns to you.

“Uh, yeah,” you swallow as Hansen faces you with a smirk, “right this way.”

You turn and hug the cushion against your stomach, each step tender and tingling. You sense him behind you, too close for comfort. He snickers quietly as you get to the door. You stop with your hand on the handle.

“Please,” you whisper.

“Be good and I will be, too,” he shoots back.

[whumpy-wyrms]

The Last Lab Rat CYOA #6

tllr au masterlist | tllr masterlist

content: whumpee pov, lab whump, sprained ankle, scientist carewhumper

You chose: It hurts. Comply and let him help you.

— 

You sigh shakily. “Fine,” you say and hold your leg out towards him. You know you shouldn’t trust him, but you have to accept what help you can get.

He leans down to take a look. “Hm,” he hums. “It looks like a pretty bad sprain. Good thing you have me, this will heal in no time!” He notices your expression and his smile dwindles. “Are you in any other pain?”

…Besides the emotional pain of literally being kidnapped and taken here against your will and not knowing what’s going to happen to you, really the only thing that hurts is your ankle. The drug has worn off by now, and your head is surprisingly clear.

“…Just my ankle,” you say. “But it hurts. R-really bad.”

“Ah. I’m sorry. Really, I didn’t mean for all that to happen.”

He didn’t mean for that to happen? He was following you home and started chasing you. What did he expect, for you to come with him willingly? You stare up at him, but your courage starts to dwindle into a panic. You remember how you never stood a chance, and now you’re here, in this strange place, at his mercy.

“Why did you take me?” You ask. You can’t help your voice from breaking. “What do you want with me?”

His expression softens. “Hey, buddy, it’s okay. I’ll tell you everything once I fix your ankle. You’ll get answers soon, don’t worry. Everything will be okay.”

You swallow the lump in your throat and nod your head in understanding. You’ll be fine. At least he’s being nice. This could be worse. This could be much worse.

“…Nothing else hurts?” He asks.

“N-no.”

“Okay. Your ankle needs ice. I’m going to go get some now, alright?” He stands up and starts walking towards the door. “Stay there, I’ll be back in a moment.”

He walks out and the door clicks shut behind him. You assume it must be locked, but it wouldn’t hurt to check.

But that would involve walking, so for now you look out the window and see him walking around in that… lab. It’s a pretty big place, with pretty strange things that you can’t seem to wrap your head around. It all looks like something straight out of a sci-fi movie. There are giant glass tubes of colorful liquid, shelves of weird looking plants and objects you don’t recognize, dangerous looking machines, a metal table in the middle, cages. You shudder as your mind wonders about all the horrible things he could do to you in there. 

Your eyes flicker back to him— Anton— rummaging around in a drawer. You’re alone for a moment, you should probably take advantage of that. You have no idea the state you’ll be in once he’s done with you, or if he ever will be.

next

— 

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@indigoisaspookyghost2

let me know if you want to be removed or added to the taglist!

[darksigns-exe]

twenty buttons and a strap - nick folio x josie (ofc)

Pairing: Nick Folio x Josie (OFC) Warnings: Swearing Word Count: 2.5k Note: Prequel to Softly Know Me Masterlist

Days off are rare. They’ve had two relatively close to each other, one of which had been wet in the worst way possible. Today seems to be less rainy though. They’re in New York, and Nick has taken the liberty to spend the morning getting breakfast before he’ll lose too many hours in the music store. Matt will curse him when he comes back with more ideas for the kit, but then again, Matt will always find something to be grumpy about. 

Nick’s completely wrapped up in the plans for his day, running through the little itinerary he’d created for himself. He’s so distracted that the doesn’t notice the door to his right opening and the young woman storming out of it. He only notices when she slams square into him. In an instant, the contents of her bag spill across the side walk. Nick blindly reaches forward and just manages to stop her from falling. 

“Shit.” the curse falls from her seconds before she’s wrangling herself from his hold again. 

She scrambles to pick everything back up again, clearly in a rush. It takes Nick a moment to remember that he should probably help. And so he bends to pick up the loose papers and pens. 

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you.” He says quickly, knowing that it won’t make anything better. 

The shattered remains of her to-go coffee cup lie between them. Its contents slowly seeping into the cracks of the concrete slabs. 

“I didn’t look.” Her reply comes just as quick. 

“Can I get you a new coffee at least?”

“You really don’t have to.”

“But I want to.” He insists and for a moment he feels a little too pushy, but when he looks at her, he finds a curious little smile on her face. 

“There’s a good place up the street.” she finally says, and he can’t stop himself from smiling too. 

She tells him that her name is Josie, and Nick thinks that he’s never seen a prettier girl before. She’s on Broadway, a world Nick knows next to nothing about. Sure, he’s aware of it, but what he knows doesn’t extend further than the marquees of the theatres. But the brief bit of conversation they have while they wait for their orders makes him want to listen to her for hours. 

“You’re not from here either, right?” she asks, setting the paper cup down on the little table. 

He isn’t sure how he’s managed to rope her into staying for the duration of her coffee, but she’s here and he won’t question it. 

“I’m in a band, we’re just here for two days.” 

Something unreadable skims across her face. He thinks that there’s a little bit of disappointment mixed into it. And he can’t deny that he feels that same sting when he thinks about how unlikely it is that they’ll be more than a chance encounter and a shared cup of coffee. 

Josie asks a million questions. She wants to know what kind of music they make, how he got into it, everything. It’s sweet. 

Nick asks just as many questions. 

“We’re playing a show later tonight. I don’t know if it’s — if that’s your thing, but if you’d like to come —”

“I’m on standby today. I’ll be in the theatre until 11 at least.” She sounds apologetic enough for him to believe that she isn’t just giving him an excuse.

Maybe that’s why he feels brave enough to ask. 

“Would you like to grab something to eat afterwards?” 

Her eyes go wide, and for a brief second Nick thinks that he’s messed it up. But then she smiles, and he finally understands what all that talk about hearts skipping beats is about.

“Oh, I would love that.”

When she returns his phone to him so that he can send her a message, he finds that she’s saved her name with a pink heart behind it. He doesn’t want to let himself hope. He’d rather find himself pleasantly surprised than experiencing yet another let down. 

They part ways shortly afterwards. She hugs him goodbye, and Nick decides that he’ll find a way to make this work. Even if that means that he’ll have to drive up here to see her. 

Nick is admittedly distracted for the rest of the day. She’d texted him the name of the theatre she’s working in so that he can meet her there after the show. Against his usual instincts, Nick had found himself scouring the theatre's website for her name. 

Josephine Barnet 

The name rattles around his brain when they run through the set. So much that he keeps missing his cues. It’s never been like this. Sure, he knows himself to fall quickly when a girl bats her lashes at him like that, but this is a new record even for him. He’s not planning a wedding yet, but he’s not far from it, either. Reality hits when he has to apologise for missing his mark for the tenth time that afternoon. 

Jolly suggests that they take a break and honestly Nick is more than happy to take a moment away. As intriguing as Josie is, he can’t let her take over his mind just yet, not when he doesn’t even know if he’ll see her again after tonight. 

Just as he rounds the corner to the stairs that’ll take him deeper into the belly of the venue, a hand wraps around his bicep. 

“Got a moment?” Ruffilo sounds awfully concerned, and really he gets it. 

He has the decency to wait for the rest of them to wander off before he begins his interrogation, “Is everything okay? Did something happen earlier?” 

A small part of him wants to tell him everything. Nick stops himself before he can start gushing over the pretty girl he bought coffee earlier in the day. Instead, he tells him some half-assed thing about not sleeping well. He does feel a little bad about it, but he doesn’t want to raise his own hopes too high just yet. 

He isn’t sure that Nick is entirely convinced, but he seems to accept the excuse for now. Nick uses the short break to gather himself again. The others rely on him, and he can’t slack like this again. The break seems to be enough to get him back on track again. And when they run through the last few songs, Nick feels as if he’s back where he needs to be. 

He’s glad that they’re busy until the show starts. 

They have things to sign, an interview to give and people to talk to. No time for Nick to drift off into fantasies of that pretty girl. There’s a text from her on his phone when he checks just before the show. 

Are we still good for tonight? 

No change of plans on my part. 

Great! Really looking forward to it! 

The confirmation that he’ll see her again makes him a little dizzy. He can’t stop that first date buzz from settling into his bones. 

Focus. 

He’ll let himself get excited about it once the show is over. Nick gets extra involved in the lead up to the show. He’s double and triple checking his kit just to keep himself busy. He even considers going for a run. Luckily, time seems to be on his side for once, and they’re on stage sooner than he’d thought. 

The show takes his mind off her entirely, but once the last note is played, and they’ve said their goodbyes he’s off to take a shower. He can’t and won’t show up to what could be their first date reeking of sweat. In a way, Nick is glad that he has to rush his way through it all. There’s no time to worry about small things like the fit of his shirt or if his hair sits right. 

He let’s Matt know that he’ll be back late as he flees the venue, narrowly avoiding Noah’s nagging questions. He doesn’t exactly want to hear another concerned question about his behaviour today. Sure, the easiest way to avoid all of it would be to just tell them that he’s meeting someone, but that would make it real and that would mean that he’d have to explain that it ended up being nothing once again.

Josie had told him that she’d come around the front of the theatre. She’s wrapped up in a conversation when he comes up to the building. The scene reminds him of the times they – or rather Noah – been swarmed after shows. Although this seems a lot more tame. She stops him eventually and quickly wraps up her conversation before she comes rushing over to him. 

“I am so sorry.” she sounds a little out of breath, voice just a little rough in a way that reminds him of Noah after a show, “I had to fill in for someone tonight, and it usually gets a little wild after that. I hope you haven’t waited for too long?”

The exhaustion that had previously sat in his muscles and bones fades away when she smiles at him like that.

Nick quickly shakes his head before the whole thing becomes embarrassing. 

“Just got here.” he adds just as quick. 

He doesn’t try to sound nonchalant. Hell, he couldn’t even if he tried. 

Josie looks at him for a long moment, and he cannot for the life of him decipher what’s going through her mind. He doesn’t know her long enough for that, and even worse, he’s never been that good at that anyway. 

“Do you want to head out? There’s a little 24/7 place around here that I go to sometimes.” the soft lilt of her voice breaks through the fog in his head. 

She could read him a phone book, and he’d listen with rapt attention. 

The walk to the diner is filled with questions from her about their show. It’s a nice pace of change to talk about this with someone who seems genuinely interested in the craft side of things. She leads him to a place that looks entirely out of time. The world around it has moved on, but this little palace remained stuck somewhere in the 70s. Through the windows, he can see a handful of patrons stuffed into the booths. 

The conversation doesn’t stop when they find a seat in one of them. The change from topic to topic is comfortable. Nick wants to know everything, he wants to hear about every little thing she has to say, even if that means that they’ll be here for hours. He’ll skip sleep if he has to. The others will ask questions, but it doesn’t matter. 

“I have never even seen a fishing pole in person.” she says with a giggle. 

“I’ll show you one day.” he finds himself replying as if it’s already a done deal. 

And he doesn’t catch the choice of words until he mulls it over again in his head. But when he looks up at her, she’s smiling, and it makes his breath catch in his throat. 

“I’d love that.” 

It’s almost two when they’re out of the door again. And while he does start to feel a little tired, it’s not nearly enough for him to want to part ways just yet. 

They end up in her living room. It’s small and stuffed full of what is clearly second hand furniture. But while the space is anything but bare, it doesn’t feel messy. It’s cosy and lived in, and he feels at home almost immediately. 

The conversation continues to be just as effortless as it had been before, and it almost feels as if he’s known her for years. The longer they sit together like this, the closer Josie scoots to him. She’s touchy. Usually, Nick doesn’t enjoy it too much when people get too touchy with him like this when he doesn’t know them well, but when Josie’s hand touches against his knee again, he cannot deny that it sends a shock of warmth up his spine. The warmth of her palm seeps into his skin. She’s telling him about her time abroad, about her own touring experiences, and it feels so good to know that she understands the stress that comes with it. 

The minutes trickle by, and before Nick knows it, his phone buzzes with one notification after another. When he finally checks the time on his phone, it’s nearing five, and Matt sounds surprisingly worried about his whereabouts. 

Josie apologises profusely for keeping him up for so long, but he can’t bring himself to be upset about it. How could he be upset when he hasn’t felt this comfortable with another person in ages. She’s adamant that he should take an Uber back to the hotel, and she doesn’t accept his no when he says that he’ll pay for it himself. 

“I kept you up, let me do something.” 

He doesn’t try to argue with her after that. 

Saying goodbye feels harder than it should, considering that he’s only spent a couple of hours with her. Josie wraps him into a tight hug when it’s time for them to actually part ways. The soft, sweet scent of her perfume wraps itself around his mind. Against his better judgement, Nick lets the feeling of her pressed against his chest ingrain itself into his brain, just in case he doesn’t get to feel this again. 

“Do you think that I could see you again some time?” Nick asks, and his heart is pounding at a thousand miles a minute. 

She nods immediately, “You said you’d teach me how to fish, and I’m going to hold you to that.” 

God, he wants to lean over and kiss her. 

“Good. We’ll figure out a time and day.” 

Josie nods so eagerly, “In the meantime, is it okay if I keep texting you?” 

She sounds so awfully hesitant and shy, and Nick hopes that he hasn’t given her the feeling that she can’t do that. 

“Of course. You gotta let me know how that casting goes.” 

He tries so hard to memorise how her eyes light up at his reply. He’ll do whatever he has to make this work, even if that means coming up here more often than he’d like. 

Nick texts her just as the Uber pulls up to the hotel to let her know that he’s made it back safely. He also lets Matt know that he’s back and prepares himself for the litany of curses that is about to rain down on him. He knows that it’s genuine worry, even if it always sounds like anger with Matt. It matters little, though, not when he has what is objectively the prettiest girl he’s seen texting him about how she’d love to take a coffee into the studio today but will have to get a new to-go cup before she can do that.  

Nick orders a new one while he’s still on the way up to his floor. It’ll show up on her doorstep tomorrow with a note that once again tries to proclaim just how sorry he is for that one.

[i-eat-worlds]

Starcross Part 4

New perspective!

Content: Conditioned whumpee, fear of punishment, multiple caretakers, food mention

Free Space, AFS Starcross, 5/5/4763

The infirmary doors hissed as Oka passed through them, two plates of food carefully balanced in both of their hands. Ziar had stayed with the new visitor overnight, and from what Veya had said, she wasn’t going to be coming up for air anytime soon. The lights were still red. She’d fiddled with the settings to let them sleep.

Since their last stop had been on Hurulose, breakfast denitely left something to be desired. They were simple mining rations, containing mostly dried fruit slices and sticks of preserved meat. Jesse, not impressed by the options, had baked some Kuliaen flatbread out of whatever ingredients she’d been able to find on the colony. “Morning,” Ziar said, looking back from the cabinets she was rooting through. Her voice was quiet to avoid waking the sleeping human. “You can set those over there.” She pointed towards the table at the front of the room.

The exhaustion on her face was obvious. Ziar was normally one of the better rested crew members, and it was odd to see them yawning so much. “Do you want me to get you some tea? Or whatever battery acid Jesse drinks?”

“Nah, I’ll be alright.” She turned towards them, heading towards the plates, and Oka narrowed their eyes.

A bandage was wrapped around her upper right arm. “What happened?” Ziar shrugged. “They got a little freaked out. It’s fine.”

Ah. Veya probably wouldn’t be happy about that. “How are they?”

“Stable. Exhausted and scared.” A beat of silence passed. “They…they’ve been through a lot, from what I can tell. When we land I’d like them to be seen by another doctor. I can pay.”

“I’ll run that by her.” The answer would probably be yes. Zarian was more friendly to those without proper affiliation. “If you need me to watch them so you can shower and spend some time with your leg o, I can watch them for a little bit.”

Ziar thought for a moment. “That would be good, yeah. How’s your Yeran?”

They made a “so-so” motion with their hand. “It’s descent. I’m no where near a native, but I can make it work.

She hummed. “Alright.” There was an uncertain pause. “They’re absolutely terried, Oka. You sure?”

They bit their lip for a second before speaking. “I’ve done this before, Ziar. I know.”

*** The weapon could tell that there was someone else, someone new in the room.

It kept its eyes closed, kept “resting” like Ziar had asked it too, of course, but it could tell. Their voice was hushed, and it couldn’t really make out what they were saying, but its stomach twisted into knots anyway. It couldn’t be anything good.

Ziar hadn’t punished it, at least not yet. She’d let it stay in the bed, with the blanket. She’d told it to sleep, to rest. The weapon had worried that it wouldn’t be able to, but the time in stasis had made it very tired. In less than an hour, it had been out like a light switch.

She’d left it mostly undisturbed, checking on it periodically, but not hurting it. It had heard her wake a while ago, but the weapon had still not been disturbed. It was being permitted to sleep in. That had never, in the history of the weapon’s existence, ever happened.

It shuddered at the thought of having to pay for these luxuries, for these mercies. It hadn’t been punished for biting yet, either. There was going to be a lot of pain in its future, and it knew that. The fact that it also dreaded it was inconsequential. The weapon had bit its better, then taken advantage of her kindness. It was what it deserved.

The conversation stopped, and it heard footsteps start to approach the bed. Despite its best efforts, it couldn’t help but go rigid.

“Are you awake?” Her voice was soft, gentle. “I’ve brought breakfast if you’re hungry.”

Food. Poisoned, perhaps, or incompatible with its digestive tract.

Slowly, it opened its eyes, the red glow of the room not overwhelming its sight. Ziar was on their left, a good meter away, keeping her distance. Behind her was someone else, a dark-skinned Sanatori who was wearing two different shimmering dangly earrings and holding a plate of food in shiny packages.

They smiled at it, in a way that almost seemed genuine. “This is Oka, (They/Them),” Ziar introduced. It froze, unsure what to do. Was there a way they would want to be greeted? What were the rules here? “I need to leave for a little while. Oka’s going to make sure that you’re okay. Ask them if you need anything, alright?”

It nodded. “Yes, Ma’am.”

“I’m not going to hurt you, and Oka isn’t either.” She said that a lot. The weapon wondered why she did, since it was an obvious lie.

Ziar beckoned for them to step forward, and they did, much closer than the Ziar had. “Hello, what’s your name?”

The weapon did a double take. It didn’t have a name, those weren’t for humans, for things like it. Maybe they wanted its identication number. “This Unit’s designation is KM-4682, sir.”

Oka gave it a confused look. “Okay. Can I call you Kim? Like KM?”

“You can call it whatever you want, sir.” The weapon was not permitted to have an opinion about its designation.

“It’s okay-” Ziar stepped a little closer, “-if you want to be called something else.”

It was like they were pushing it towards something, trying to get it to slip up, trying to get it trouble. Then again, it deserved punishment anyway. It had bit Ziar. “Kim is acceptable, ma’am.”

They both nodded. “If that ever changes, it’s alright to tell us,” Oka said. It sounded genuine. It couldn’t be.

The weapon was not permitted to have an opinion about its designation.

Ziar spoke with Oka in another language for a little bit, then she looked back to it. “I'll be back in a couple hours. Oka won’t hurt you.”The weapon nodded, unbelieving, and Ziar left the room. It ignored the pit in its stomach as Oka tore the rst pouch of food open. What were they going to do to it?

Taglist: @whump-snob @whump-kia @itsoundslikeafury @blackberry-bloody @snakebites-and-ink

@whumpacabra @cepheusgalaxy @softvampirewhump @my-little-versaille @pigeonwhumps

@whumped-by-glitter @snaillamp @rainydaywhump @platysaurus @whumpy-daydreams

@whiskygoldwings @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees @rainbowsandwhumperflies @risk606 @starfields08000

[cozage]

The Daughter's Return: Part 7

The Infiltration Plan

Part 1 | Part 8 | Table of Contents | Read this on A03

Characters: female reader x Ace Word Count: 4.1k CW: None i can think of

“Hey,” Marco’s soft voice woke you from your sleep, and you groaned as you flipped away from him. Of course Marco had woken you up. Your dreams had been too good to you. Now that you were awake, your head was pounding.

Marco shook you lightly. “I think Whitey is about to head out.”

That got your attention. You sat up, awake and alert. You quickly jumped off the mattress and ran out the door without another word to him. You had to find Whitey, you had to say goodbye one more time before she was gone. 

You dashed out onto the deck, wildly darting your head from left to right. There were so many people awake at this early hour, it was hard to look past the people directly in front of you. You had forgotten what island days were like; everyone was desperate to get off the ship in search of new treasures and new company. 

You finally found Brew, and ran over to him. In your time planning for Whitey’s departure, you had forgotten that your other two close friends were leaving as well.

“Brew!” you called out as you approached him. 

Brew held out his arms, waiting for you. He wrapped you in a strong hug, and you let yourself sink into his big strong arms. 

“Hey! I was afraid I wasn’t going to see you before we left!” Brew squeezed you extra tight, and you had to tap on his arm to remind him to let you breathe. 

He finally released you, and you pulled away from him. “I’m going to miss you so…” his bewildered stare made you stop. “What?”

“Girl,” Sally interjected. “Your neck is covered in bruises.”

“Hickeys,” Brew corrected. 

It took you a few moments to process their words. And then the night came flooding back to you. The dreams you had last night hadn’t been exclusively dreams. You and Ace had made out, and probably would’ve gone further, if you hadn’t been interrupted. 

“Can we not talk about that right now?!” you squeaked, pulling the neck of your shirt up to cover the bruises. 

“Oh my god you slept with him, didn’t you?!” Brew shouted. You could see a few people pause and glance over at the three of you, and you shot daggers. 

“Brew!” you hissed. “Keep it down!”

“Who slept with who?” Epoida asked, suddenly appearing behind Sally. When her eyes landed on you and your stance, she gasped. “No way.”

“I didn’t sleep with anybody,” you said. 

“No. Way!” Epoida was getting louder as you were frantically shushing her. 

“Show me!” Epoida screamed. “Show me right now!”

“Epoida! Keep it down!” you hissed, looking around. There weren’t many familiar faces on the deck at the moment, but you didn’t want to risk it. 

“Let me see, then!” Epoida threatened. “Or I’ll make a scene.”

“Fine!” you pulled your shirt collar back now, revealing your neck. You weren’t sure what it looked like, but Epoida gasped, her eyes wide. 

“Oh my god,” Epoida breathed. “Who did that?”

“Ace. Obviously,” Sally said, watching your reaction closely. You did your best not to respond, but the smirk on her face made you think you weren’t succeeding much.

“She was making out with that one guy though,” Epoida pointed out to the group. “Ozzo?”

“Uzzo,” you corrected. 

“Aha!” Epoida shouted. “We have our culprit!”

“What?!” you demanded, extremely confused about how a simple correction of a name meant anything. 

“Was he good in bed at least?” Epoida asked.

“We didn’t make it to bed!” you hissed. Everyone’s eyes exchanged sly looks, and you groaned at their responses. “Wait, I didn’t even-what is happening?!”

Epoida, Brew, and Sally all busted into laughter, and you found yourself smiling along with them. 

“I’m really going to miss you guys,” you said, going in for a group hug. They all wrapped you in an embrace, and you did your best to hold in your tears. 

“We’ll see each other again real soon,” Brew promised. You all finally broke from your hug, and you gave him a tearful nod. 

“Now go find Whitey,” Epoida said. “She’s a mess.”

It didn’t take you long to find her. She was standing at the center of the deck, bossing people around. You stood and watched her, realizing she really was going to make a good captain. You couldn’t wait to see the reports of the things she would accomplish. 

“Oh!” Whitey cried, seeing you. She handed off her checklist to another crewmate and rushed towards you. She stopped a few feet, looking at your bruises.  

“Oh?” Whitey’s fingers brushed over your neck as she examined the marks littered across it. 

“Please don’t ask,” you groaned, rubbing at them in hopes it would go away. 

“Don’t need to.” Whitey grabbed your wrist and led you off to the girl’s bath house. “Let’s get you fixed up one more time.”

You did your best not to cry at that statement. Whitey always helped you look presentable. She had always helped you pick out outfits, pour drinks, and find new guys to flirt with. You hated being away from her for two years, and you hadn’t expected your reunion to end so suddenly. It truly was bittersweet to think about. 

You glanced at yourself in the mirror as you walked in. It hadn’t felt like it in the moment, but Ace had been rough on your skin. You ran your hand across your neck, goosebumps forming from remembering the passion that had lit inside the two of you the previous night. At that time, you hadn’t cared who would see you. But now, you wanted nothing more than to cover it up. 

You hopped onto the sink counter as Whitey pulled out her makeup bag, searching for the right shade of concealer and foundation. You sat in silence, watching her find the perfect match for your skin. 

“Aha!” she cried, holding it against the light. “Okay, look up.”

You did as you were instructed, and she dabbed concealer onto the most obvious parts and began blending it in. 

“What am I going to do without you?” you said, trying to keep the sadness out of your voice. 

“You’ll manage,” Whitey said. “You always do.”

It was silent for a while, both of you just enjoying the other’s company. A few other females came and went during the process, everyone looking exhausted from last night’s party. Whenever someone came in, Whitey smoothly switched to applying makeup to your face so you wouldn’t get too many odd looks. You exchanged friendly conversation while they were in, but nobody stuck around too long to chat. 

When you were alone again, she switched to the foundation and continued blending the colors to erase the hickies that were blotted across your neck. 

“Ace apologized to me last night.”

“For what?” you asked. You had tried not to sound too interested, but Whitey smiled at your interest. 

“Said he knew how it felt to be me now and wanted to apologize for being a real dick through the whole thing.”

“I see,” you said cautiously. Your breath was caught in your throat, unsure what else to say. 

Whitey gave you a mischievous smile. “Wonder who he meant.”

“Dunno,” you choked out. It was all you could do to pretend you weren’t affected by her words. 

“He shouldn’t have apologized though. Looking back on it. I was the real asshole.” Whitey went back to dabbing at your neck. “Did you know I tried to get him demoted for sleeping with subordinates? Went to Pops and everything.”

“What?” Ace definitely hadn’t told you that part of the story. 

Whitey nodded, her cheeks beginning to pink with embarrassment. “I was awful. In my mind, he made my life hell, so I had to ruin his too. Tensions were really high for a few months. It was all so childish, looking back on it now.”

“And you forgave him because of an apology at a goodbye party?” you asked, looking at her. “Last week you were so upset at the mention of his name.”

Whitey scowled at your sudden movement. “Look up-” You obeyed her, and she continued her work. “Anyway, we had a good heart-to-heart last night. We both did bad things. But maybe he’s not so bad now.”

You gave a dry laugh. “Well alright then.”

“All done,” Whitey said as she capped her foundation. She held the concealer and foundation out to you. “For next time.”

“Whitey-”

“I’m not going to use it. I kept it around for you, so take it.”

Your eyes welled with tears, and you wrapped her in a tight hug. “I love you so much, Whitey. I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

“Hey now.” Whitey’s voice was gentle and soft as she spoke. “I’m still going to be here. Just a transponder call away, okay? Now stop smothering me, you’re going to wipe off all my hard work.”

You finally released her, and the two of you walked up to the deck together. 

“Time to go?” you asked. 

“You’ll have to come see the ship sometime, okay?” 

You nodded, wiping another stray tear from your eye. Whitey gave you one last nice, long squeeze. 

“Be careful with that boy, okay? He may act carefree and wild, but behind that wall, he’s got a sensitive soul.”

You nodded a quiet acknowledgment of her words and pulled away from her. “Take care of yourself, Whitey. Call me when you make it to Fishman.”

“I’m calling you before I make it Fishman!”

“Deal.”

“Oh!” Whitey cried. She dug around in her pocket and pulled out a paper. Then she ripped off a piece and handed it off to you. “Now you’ll never lose me.”

You clutched her vivre card tightly to your chest and did your best to smile through the tears. “Bye, Whitey.”

As you watched her leave, you remembered your own departure, two years ago. You wondered if this was how Whitey felt then, when you had gone off on your own journey without her. Had she been this sad? Had she wondered who she would eat meals with, or who she would get ready for parties with? You never even thought to ask her. Now it was too late. 

“Hey.” Your commander’s cool voice broke through your thoughts, and you jumped slightly at how close he was. 

“Ace.” Your smile grew when you realized it was him. 

“Can we talk about last night?” he asked.

“Yes!” You giggled lightly. “I mean honestly, Ace, if you had just-”

“Last night was just a casual kiss for you, right?” he interrupted. His voice was calm, with a slight touch of panic in it. 

You stopped mid-sentence and stared at him. You felt a pit forming in your stomach, but you pushed it away. 

“What?” you asked. He was looking out on the island, ignoring your sharp gaze. 

“Was that kiss just some drunken makeout session for you?”

You wanted to be honest. You wanted to tell him that his lips had shaken your world, causing tidal waves to engulf your heart. You wanted to tell him that you dreamt of him and what could’ve been if Marco hadn’t found the two of you. 

“Yeah, totally.” You gave a nervous laugh. “That’s what it was for you too, right?”

Ace let out a sigh of relief. “Good. It was just some drunken kiss with no meaning. It was just to make up for-”

“Embarrassing me in front of all our friends and colleagues?” you finished, raising your eyebrow at him. 

Ace finally looked at you and offered a nervous smile. “Right. That. I’m still sorry about that.”

“That’s okay,” you said. Now that you had his attention, you gave him a playful wink. “You know how to make it up to me now.”

Ace quickly looked away from you, and you giggled at the blush forming on his cheeks. Cat and mouse. Chasing each other around and around. He had told you it was his favorite game, and you were beginning to see why. 

Whitey must’ve misinterpreted whatever Ace had said to her last night. It was clear that Ace was still the same Ace you had heard so much about. The one who had a reputation for being a ship-wide flirt. It was the reason Marco had pulled you away, you knew that now. He didn’t want you heartbroken and alone. 

But that was fine. You could keep your tiny crush on Portgas D. Ace tucked away, and it would fizzle into nothing after a while. If Ace wanted a simple fling, you were more than okay with that. You would take whatever you could get. 

“You’re up early,” Marco commented, looking at Ace. “I was banging on your door for 10 minutes.”

“Just wanted to see the captains off,” Ace said, his stiff and awkward tenseness returning. “I wasn’t-”

“Don’t care. Emergency meeting for division leaders and strategists,” Marco said, looking at you. “We need to go now.”

You and Ace were some of the first people to arrive, which was definitely a change for the second division. After a few minutes, only about half of the leaders and strategists were there, but Namur spoke up. 

“I’m assuming the rest of the commanders are working on the departure ships, Pops.”

“Yes,” your father hummed. “Let’s get started.”

“Of course,” Namur said. “There's been an issue with our intel. My men have heard that the Navy is planning to adjust their schematics for Port Logel, but those schematics are being kept under heavy guard. Our only chance to access them is tonight.”

You had been so busy planning a party and saying goodbye to your friends, you had forgotten about your work. There was a mission in a few days. One that you were in charge of the strategy for. 

“So what’s the problem?” you asked. “We’ll still be on the island tonight, right?”

“The problem,” Namur said irritably. “Is that the plans are heavily guarded. Division Eight does recon, not infiltration.”

“So we get another division to go,” you offered. 

“It’s not that simple,” Thatch said. “We have very few people who can successfully operate any kind of infiltration mission. But this level is another ballgame.” 

Everyone looked at you, waiting for you to take the bait. 

“Fine!” you huffed. “What’s the infiltration mission?”

Namur looked around the table. “The plans are only accessible tonight, at the Almus Shores Navy-Maritime Ball.”

You raised your eyebrows. “A ball?”

Namur nodded. “Sengoku will be making an appearance, as well as several high-ranking admirals. Which means half of this table can’t attend. They know our faces too well.”

You scoffed. “That’s highly unlikely.”

“Are you willing to risk them recognizing Marco? What about Curiel or Fossa?” Atmos asked. “There's so few of us that would even fit in at a formal occasion. It’s not worth the risk.”

You looked around and realized Atmos was right. Almost everyone at the table had a bounty of at least half a million berries. They would be well known by the Navy. And most of them didn’t exactly…blend in.

“We need those schematics,” Namur said. “There has to be someone we trust that can go.”

“I’ll go,” you said, looking around. “The Navy still thinks I’m dead, right? I heard that rumor while I was in Wano.”

Ace shot you a look. “Wait, you were in Wano?” he muttered. He said the place as if he had an attachment to it. 

You were about to respond when Whitebeard cleared his throat. “Y/N,” he said. “I should remind you that your two-year gap is not public knowledge.”

You gave a nervous smile. “Right. Sorry.”

“I’ll go too,” Ace offered. “My bounty is only 120,000 berries, and the Navy hasn’t discovered that I’m the second division commander yet.”

Whitebeard frowned. “I’m nervous about you going, Ace. Truthfully, you could be the easiest one to give us away.”

“I’ll clean up!” Ace said desperately.

Your father chuckled. “I’m not sure if that will do it.”

“So let’s bleach his hair and clean him up,” you offered. “We need a B-Team though. Just in case we get caught.”

“We won’t get caught,” Ace said, his words teetering on the edge of cockiness. 

“You’re right,” you agreed. “But we should still have a Team B.”

“Mihal and Kala,” Ace said confidently. “They can keep a low profile.”

You didn’t recognize their names. “Are they a part of the second division?”

Ace nodded. “They were a part of my crew before we joined Pops. We can trust them.”

You nodded. “The four of us should be enough. We’ll go in as pairs. If Ace and I fail, we’ll change tactics to create a diversion while Mihal and Kala grab the intel.”

“Very well,” your father said. “Thatch, go inform Mahal and Kala of their assignment. Y/N, go get fitted for a dress. Ace, I need to speak with you.”

Ace looked nervous, but he hung back while everyone was dismissed. You shot him a thumbs up before Marco shoved you out of the room.

“You’re only making it worse,” Marco muttered. “Let’s go.”

“Making what worse?” you asked, shooting a glance back at the meeting room Ace was now alone in. 

“There’s a policy,” Marco said. “With Commanders and Strategists. You should know this.”

“Know what?” You were starting to get irritated by the secrecy. 

“A disclosure policy,” Marco hissed. “With Pops himself.”

Your heart dropped. “Marco. What did you tell him?”

“I didn’t see shit, so I didn’t say shit,” Marco muttered. “But someone did. Ace can sleep with whoever he wants unless it's another commander or strategist. Then he has to tell Pops about it.”

“But we didn’t do anything,” you argued.

Marco stopped in his tracks and laughed at you. It was clear he thought you were lying.  “Really?” 

His sureness made you second guess yourself. You ran over the past few weeks in your head. “Besides last night, no.”

Marco’s eye twitched. “And the night you stayed in his room? What were you doing then? Just cuddling?” His voice was thick with sarcasm.

“Well…yeah.”

“Bullshit,” Marco laughed. “Don’t lie to me. You know how pissed off that makes me.”

“Marco, I’m not lying! I swear!”

His eyes narrowed at your words and the desperation in your voice, and he examined your face for a long while. 

“Don’t believe me if you don’t want to,” you spat. Your skin was starting to sizzle with your emotions. “I’m going to find a dress.”

“Don’t burn them!” Marco yelled after you, and you slammed the door to the fitting room in response.

You had wished Whitey were here. You all always got dressed up together. Now you tried on dresses alone and walked out to show Marco, who you were still partially angry at. 

Most of them hadn't even been worth showing. A pink dress that was too pale, a mint green gown that made you look too boxy, a purple dress that was covered in hideous rhinestones. Whitey would’ve been able to find the perfect dress for you in one or two rounds. She knew what flattered you better than anyone. 

You were about to give up and just pick one at random when a royal blue gown caught your eye. You would have to wear a corset, but the bottom was loose enough for you to run in it if things got bad. It was satin, so you wouldn’t have to worry about it getting caught on anything if you needed to make an escape through the woods. The only bad thing about it was the few gemstones scattered across the top. It would be easy to see if you weren’t hiding properly. Nevertheless, it seemed like the best option, so you slipped it on and spun around a few times in the mirror. 

You felt like royalty in it. You put on white gloves and emerged from your dressing room to get Marco’s opinion. 

“Practical and gorgeous,” Marco complimented. “Well done. I’m glad at least one of you gets it.”

You looked at him confused. “One of us..?”

Ace emerged from the other dressing room with a Navy Captain’s outfit on. Your heartbeat quickened at his arrival in his new outfit. You were slightly disappointed that he was wearing a shirt, but he looked good in his Navy outfit. 

“I want to be an admiral!” Ace argued. He was pulling at the collar, clearly uncomfortable in his attire.

Marco smacked him upside the head. “Admirals are too well known, idiot! Captain is the best way to blend in.”

“But Captains are lame!” Ace whined.

“This isn’t about being cool!”

“The Navy suits you, Ace.” Your eyes scanned his body. “You should consider a career change.”

Ace seemed to only now realize that you were in the room, and his mouth dropped open as he looked at you. 

He stared at you for a long time, and you started to feel self-conscious about your dress decision. Perhaps you had been too confident in your appearance. 

Marco finally nudged his fellow commander, and Ace blinked a few times as he came back to reality. 

“You look…” Words seemed to fail him. “Great. Amazing. Beautiful.”

You blushed at his words. “Thanks.”

Marco rolled his eyes and blocked the two of you from staring at each other any longer. “I’ll pick out jewelry for you and dye Ace’s hair. You need to go talk to Pops.”

Your breath caught in your throat. “Pops?”

Ace’s eyes darted down and stayed glued to the floor, and Marco nodded. 

“Keep Ace’s dye a soft blonde,” you commented, trying your best to act natural as you turned to go change. “Don’t dye his hair an ugly yellow like yours.”

“Don’t lie!” Marco called after you. You didn’t acknowledge him. You just kept walking, trying to keep your breathing even. 

You changed out of your dress and back into your regular clothes and walked the long journey to your father’s office. As you stood outside the door, you realized how small you were. You really weren’t much different than when you had been three years old, running around the ship and struggling to reach the door knocker on this massive door. 

“Come in,” your father called. You reached out for the handle. With a deep breath, you opened the door and stepped inside. 

“You wanted to see me?” you asked, looking at him. 

“How do you feel about the mission tonight?” he asked. 

You nodded. “It’s rushed. I haven’t had much time to prepare anything, but I believe me and Ace are both excellent at thinking on our feet. We’ll find the opportunity to look at the schematics.”

Your father hummed, thinking about your words. “You and Ace…do you have anything to tell me about that?”

“Are you asking as my captain or my father?”

A vein popped out on your father’s head, but his voice remained even. “They are one and the same on this ship. For everyone. Let me remind you: you do not have special privileges because of your birthright.”

You wondered if his words were supposed to be offensive. You felt no malice behind them, so you let it go. 

You chose your next question carefully. You weren’t about to tell him everything if it wasn’t needed. “Is there anything I’m obligated to tell you as a strategist?”

“Not as a strategist,” Whitebeard pulled out a paper. “But your division commander does have to report sexual or romantic relationships and any overnight stays with any commanders or strategists.”

So technically you wouldn’t have to report anything, which was a relief to know. Only Ace would, which made it a bit more uncomfortable standing in front of your father knowing that. Ace wasn’t a liar, he would’ve told your father anything he needed to know. 

You chose your next words carefully. “Then you know that while me and Ace may have had a small intimate moment, it ultimately means nothing. I can still strategize logically and effectively with him by my side.”

Whitebeard hummed, processing your words. “And you’re sure you can strategize without biases if something were to happen?”

“Of course I can. Are you doubting my capabilities?”

He snorted. “No need to be a little shit about it. Go get ready, you’re dismissed.”

You tried not to let the conversation get to you, but as you walked down the hallway to the bathhouse, it was more and more unnerving. Had Ace said something to your father to make him doubt you? Was he anticipating you screwing up this mission because of Ace? 

You had to push that all from your mind now and focus on forming a solid strategy. You could ask Ace about it all later. You had a ball to crash.

--

Tag list! @taeyoge @teiza @tojislawyer @trafalgardnami @bloopbopsblog @dancingnewcat @dxestyi @flooofity @deadsnothere @h-rhodes1598 (if you'd like to be included in the tag list, just comment or send me a message!)

[freesia-writes]

For the 500 followers prompts: #3 switching dates on a double date…with an at first standoffish but then slowly warming up Crosshair. And congratulations on 500 followers! So glad you’re in this community 🙏🏻❤️

So grateful for you and your sweet spirit! We decided to tweak this one slightly, after some discussion, so instead of a double-blind date, You and Crosshair are each on a blind date, in the same restaurant. And this is kind of an AU… just so Cross can be in his sexy clothes. ;)

Crosshair x GN(I think?) or Fem Reader Word Count: 2k Content Warnings: PG-13, suggestive, making out, Crosshair being an ass as usual. ;) Dividers by @djarrex

“All alone?” a silken voice came from beside you, startling you out of your reverie. You’d been absently twirling your straw in your fingers, and dropped it in surprise. Jerking your head up, you took in the newcomer: a tall, slender, sharp-looking man with silvery gray hair, peppered with black. He had the most intense eyes you’d ever seen, further accentuated by the tattoo of a target around his right eye. His presence was somehow chilling and thrilling at the same time, and you were spinning your wheels trying to find your words. 

“I’m meeting someone, actually,” you answered, finding your courage again. “I just came early to… prepare…” Your eyes dropped to your drink, a strong concoction that you’d nursed almost to the bottom. 

“Hmm,” the stranger huffed, an odd mix of smugness and disbelief. “Sounds like you’re really looking forward to it.” 

“Well what are you doing here?” you asked, turning to face him more fully. Perched on your stool, you were almost the same height as he leaned on the bar counter with both elbows. “Having a night out to lurk and criticize?” There it was… the snark you were so well-known for… that often kept people at an arm’s length. But he didn’t seem to be put off by it, instead rising to his full height to face you head on as well. He was wearing a dark gray turtleneck and a long, dark coat over some black pants that made him look both smooth and sharp. Either your drink was hitting you early, or his presence had a dizzying effect. Whatever it was, it sent a jolt of electricity down your spine. 

“I’m actually on a blind date,” he crooned, smiling in a way that didn’t reach his eyes. “But I have a feeling I’ll be leaving with you.” 

You laughed in his face, struck by his deadpan delivery of such an assumption. “Oh really?” you challenged, tilting your head. Damn, maybe your friend was right, and your type really was just a-holes in general. “That seems like quite a leap.”

“Maybe,” he murmured, lifting a hand to touch the bottom of your chin, which you slapped away despite the insane heat blossoming through your body in response. He smiled, a little half-smile that made you want to punch him or kiss him, you weren’t sure which, and then he sauntered away, giving you a little salute as he headed for a table in the corner. 

“Hmm,” you responded automatically as the engineer in front of you continued prattling on about chargers or combustors or capacitors or something. He was the latest blind date your friend had insisted you go on, and no matter how many times you told her that you clearly had different tastes, each time she demanded that you at least give it a try, that this one was different. You weren’t sure what her type was, but you were slowly checking off every possibility of what yours was NOT. You felt bad -- the guy in front of you meant well enough… probably… but he had yet to ask you anything about yourself, instead opting to try to impress you with his decadent knowledge of starship engines. Or weapons. Or something. 

You hadn’t been able to focus, instead magnetized by the simmering presence of Mr. Assumption in the corner. Your table had [un]fortunately been situated so that you were facing him the whole time, seeing him over the shoulder of the date in front of you. You watched as he reclined, stretching a long arm across the back of the booth, having occasional conversation with the woman before him. From what you’d been able to tell, not that you’d been paying attention, she seemed very bubbly. Her movements were incredibly animated, and the deeply plunging neckline above her ample bosom left little to the imagination. She alternated between trying to be seductive and acting playful and cute, and you could almost feel the repulsion radiating from the stranger. 

A smirk found its way across your face. You knew his type, or so you thought. Hell, you kind of were his type… aloof, introspective, keeping your cards close to the chest. Life hadn’t been kind to you, and the shell you’d built up around yourself was firmly in place to guard against all the hurts that lurked around every corner. A few people were let in, however, and you were fiercely loyal and devotedly loving to them. So much so that they were often shocked to hear what others perceived you as. 

“Oh, you like that?” the soft, round-faced man at your table said, bringing you back to the present. The bewilderment flashed across your face for only a split second before you realized he had taken your smirk to be a response to whatever he’d been sharing. You sighed, wondering if you should just put him out of his misery right now and save him the trouble of eighteen more ion engine explanations. But the stranger in the corner booth suddenly looked at you, sending another spark through your chest, and you didn’t even realize you’d been staring at him. He grinned smugly, winking almost imperceptibly in your direction, before turning back to his drink. 

You were infuriated. You knew it was petty, but you’d always been accused of being stubborn, and so be it. You decided to have the best date of your life. This guy didn’t know what he was in for. Brightening up considerably, you leaned forward, as though you were hanging on every word, and eagerly encouraged your date to share more about his incredibly fascinating and mind-blowingly unique insight about starship parts. 

The facade was exhausting. It had been an hour, punctuated only by bites of the mediocre food in front of you, and you were about ready to throw something. Why you got yourself into these situations, you didn’t know, but you could almost feel the haughty eyes of Mr. Assumption on you as you laughed loudly, playfully swatting the hand of the man across from you. 

“This has been so great!” he exclaimed, ruddy cheeks aglow with delight. “Want to go back to my place?” You cringed inwardly at the straightforward progression. Dinner, conversation… annnnd sex. If the dinner and conversation was any hint, the sex would be wildly disappointing as well. But you weren’t about to let that cocky corner-dweller come out on top. 

“Let’s go,” you answered, rising to your feet and taking his arm. You sent a proud glance over your shoulder, purposefully catching Mr. Assumption’s eye, and blew him a tiny kiss goodbye as you headed for the door. His eyes darkened for a moment, but it was gone just as quickly, and you disappeared around the corner. 

The night air was cool, and your date was back to talking. He realized he hadn’t asked you about yourself, finally, and was peppering you with some of the most random, confusing questions you’d ever received. You were trying to keep up, thoughts clearly elsewhere, when you reached the stairs to his apartment building. 

“Here we are!” he announced triumphantly, gesturing grandly to the dingy high-rise. “I hope you’re ready for the best night of your life.” 

“Ugh,” you groaned, unable to keep it up any longer. “I’m so sorry. I think I’m going to be sick. Thanks for dinner!” you spluttered, turning to head back to the train station without another word despite his confused questions behind you. He didn’t follow, though, and you were intensely grateful, feeling a lightness on your shoulders as you rounded the corner. The streets were fairly quiet in this part of town, and you’d opted for a later dinner than usual, so the serenity was welcome after hours of being fakely interested. 

You scanned the sidewalk ahead, heart skipping a beat as you saw a tall figure in a long jacket, leaning against the light post up ahead. It couldn’t be… But as you drew nearer, indeed it was… Mr. Assumption from the restaurant, notably alone, almost waiting for you to reach him. You thought about turning around, or heading down a side alley, but at this point it was fairly late, and you just needed to get home. As you walked up slowly, he tilted his head, illuminating the side of his face with the glow of the various lights and signs around. He had a toothpick in his mouth now, and was emanating smugness as you stopped in front of him. 

“Are you done wasting time?” he purred, and without your permission, a flush blossomed across your cheeks. You didn’t get it. He was an ass. A cocky, overbearing ass. And yet he seemed to have the depth of an ocean in those pale brown eyes…. And you wanted to dive in. 

“Do you like the way it makes you feel? Being all secretive and suggestive, thinking you can just wrap anyone around your finger with some mysterious words and sultry glances?” you accused, lifting your chin defiantly. “Does it make you feel powerful? You like that?” 

His eyebrows twitched, expression unreadable. Little did you know just how much he did like that, and the desire he felt was brimming to the surface. He was so tired of people, with all their niceties and nuance, and perceiving a kindred spirit was both refreshing and intoxicating to him. You weren’t like the others, who were either repulsed by him or simpered over every word he said. You could hold your own, but there was more to you than met the eye, he was sure.

“Sultry glances?” he answered, ignoring the rest. “My dear, I think you’re misreading things.” 

“Oh, so I’m going home with you, but you don’t show any interest in me? That makes sense,” you said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Do you want me to just be putty in your hands?” Your teasing was enticing, and as you regarded him evenly, daring him to make the next move, he let out a breathy chuckle at your accusation. 

“Wouldn’t you like that?” 

Holy kriff. How was he able to do that to you? Yes, you would like that. Very much. Because unlike the round-faced date from earlier, you had a feeling that he would know exactly what to do. He could tell you were thrown off balance, the smugness returning, as well as a flash of warmth that you hadn’t seen before. 

“The name’s Crosshair,” he continued, saving you from your frantic scramble for a snarky retort as he flicked his toothpick away and reached out a slender hand. Breathing your own name, you took it, trying to return the firm (and somehow suggestive?) handshake he gave you. “And I didn’t say you were going home with me, I just said you were leaving with me. But if the shoe fits…” 

You laughed, feeling your guard let down even more. “Well I guess you were wrong then…” you pointed out, savoring the semblance of victory. It was short-lived, however, as he slowly sidled toward you, pushing you back toward the art gallery behind you. The windows were dark, surrounded by cold brick that you suddenly found your back pressed against as he leaned over you, lazily resting on one elbow above your head, the other hand playing with your waist. 

“I guess I was,” he admitted, face hovering inches from yours. You felt electrified, frozen in place, and lifted a hand to his chest without thinking. It was hard, and warm, leading you to wonder what other parts of him felt like. His admission was more meaningful than you’d expected, and you reached the other hand up to his neck, pulling him down to kiss him with all you had. It seemed as though he couldn’t be surprised by anything, as he fitted his form against you, wedging a thigh between your legs and digging his fingers into your hair. Your mouths met again and again, soft and tender at first, then more intent and suggestive, your tongue sliding along his and your teeth pulling gently on his lower lip. He trailed kisses down your neck, each one blazing fire through your body, and when he left a mark on your collarbone, you bit your lip, pulling his head back up to face you, eyes ablaze with passion. 

“Not so bad, being wrong, is it?” you teased, and he growled his amusement as he leaned back in.

(Looking for a smutty continuation that’s turning into a full story? Look no further…)

[changingplumbob]

Woods Household: Chapter 2, Part 5

Reece and Samir have a serious talk about their future.

CW: Low level sim spice. Content Warning Guide

Samir and Reece are curled up in bed while the snow falls heavily outside.

Samir: *whispering* Time to get up

Reece: No *yawns* You’re warm and cozy

Samir: You were keen to wake-

Reece: I like the way you smell

Samir: *chuckles* Come on, you’ve got coursework and it’s Snow Day

Reece: *slurred* Slow day

Samir: Let’s go gorgeous. If you get all your uni work done early we’ll make a snowpal, huh?

Samir gets up and Reece reluctantly follows. The thermostat was installed so he’s able to stay warm inside even if it’s not in Samir’s arms.

Reece eats his breakfast as Samir marks his territory and he’s busy with his coursework when Samir comes to eat some meat.

Samir: What’s this one called

Reece: Building with cells, I can kind of understand it

Samir: By the time you’re done with it, you’ll understand it all

Reece: Thanks. What will you be doing while I’m slaving here

Samir: Just see if I can find anything around the place, and go for a jog. If you get cold, please put a shirt on

Reece: I’ll have a hot shower just as soon as I finish this…

In the garden, despite the cold, the chrysanthemums and roses are growing side by side. Samir smiles at them as he heads out. He still can’t help thinking of them as symbolism for him and Reece. One bright sunny and uplifting. One deep, passionate and thorny. After a shower Reece heads to tend the garden and picks the flowers happily. He still wants to graft them together, but he has to get a bit more knowledgeable about gardening first.

Samir gets back and picks one of the books of the shelf to try reading while Reece does more coursework. They’re supposed to be focusing. But, as often happens, their thoughts end up being about each other.

Reece: When can we get married

Samir: We’ve talked about this

Reece: Yes but snatches of conversation after woohoo are not the same as an actual sit down conversation

Samir: *sighs* We should be focusing

Reece: *pouts*

Samir: Blondie... It's like I've said. I’m not proposing until you’ve got your degree

Reece: What if I proposed

Samir: *scratches* I wouldn’t accept. I’ve told you, when I think the time is right, I’ll ask

Reece: Do you need to know who killed your parents first

Samir: No. They’re separate to us

Reece: I just… I want the world to know you've picked me

Samir: Is the hickey you’re always getting me to make on your neck not enough

Reece: I love it, and I love you but…

Reece looks sadly at his coursework and Samir feels bad. He doesn’t want Reece upset but he knows once they get married Reece will be obsessed with the idea of kids. He loves Reece being a genius and knows that long term Reece will be happiest having at least a part time job where he can use his brain. He needs to finish his degree before they "settle down". Then he's happy for him to have as many kids as will keep him smiling.

Samir: How about a compromise

Reece: Like a woohoo compromise

Samir: No. Like a… be my partner compromise

Reece: Huh?

Samir reaches over and grabs Reece's hand. He's thought of him as his partner since they moved in but they've only ever referred to each other as boyfriends. Maybe an upgrade will help Reece see he's invested in him.

Samir: A step up from boyfriend but still no ring. That’s what I can propose for now. Think about it while I shower okay?

As Samir showers his mind drifts back to what Kristopher mentioned about mates… Reece would probably have some idea since he was reading all of Wolfgangs books but how could he ask without relaying the conversation? He didn’t want Reece to feel like he had to be with him. Selfishly he wanted Reece to choose to be with him. Shaking off excess water he gets dressed and heads back to the table.

Samir: Do we have a verdict

Reece: *smiling* You bet partner. Do you wanna build a snowman?

Samir: *chuckles* Snowpal. You finished the work then?

Reece: Yes

Samir: Good boy. Let’s go

They head outside where the sky has started to darken, in winter the sun sets early.

Samir: Have you read any more of Wolfgang’s books?

Reece: Bits. You know I like my werewolf romance

Samir: I do know that very well. Is it weird reading the steamy bits now you know he wrote them

Reece: No. I mean he’s not the characters he writes about. Like I’m not reading a scene where I picture that he’s woohooing himself. Plus I already substitute the characters for us in the love scenes anyway

Samir: *chuckles* Of course you do

Reece: Thanks for earlier. It means a lot. I know you just want what's best for me I'm just... not good at being patient

Samir: Hey, it means the world to me you want to get married. You know that right?

Reece nods and Samir pulls him in for a serious of gentle kisses that leave the blonde boy giggling.

Samir: Trust me, my proposal will be worth waiting for. Now, what shall we name this monstrosity?

Reece: Monstrosity? Lover that’s our child! I even gave them a headscarf to keep warm, see

Samir: How about… Scarf-face?

Reece: *sighs* You better upskill your imagination before we have our kids, that’s all I’m saying to that

While it was a bit late for a dinner date Samir invited Reece to come with him to the onsen to rest. He knows that when Reece does a lot of writing he tends to get cramps in his muscles and he hasn’t had time for yoga with the coursework. Soaking in the onsen is something they can do together. The warm water does Reece good as he’s soon flirting up a storm.

Samir: Can I interest my partner in a massage

Reece: *chuckles* Anytime you want to put your hands on me just do it

Samir: Your shoulders are tight. Did you take a break between sections of writing?

Reece: I… wanted to get it done so we could build a snowpal

Samir: Blondie you’ve got to take better care of yourself

Reece: I’d rather have you take care of me. Shall we go home?

Samir: Soon. I just want to be gentle with you a bit more first

Previous ... Next

[heyiwrotesomethings]

hey can we get a part 4 on Crash

angst to tooth rotting fluff

in case you need ideas :

shinobu tell her back story

reader tells theirs

or they tell each other something that happend during mission

Crash Prt IV: Comfort

Shinobu Kochou x They/ Them Reader

A/N: PrtIII I always go re-read previous parts when people ask for sequels and I noticed that they kind of already had a bit of a sharing of backstories in the previous part so I kind of went the mission route. Hope you can find something to like about this, thank you for reading! Word Count: 1,641

Shinobu noticed something was off after she had read the latest letter from (Y/n). Not only had it come a few days later than it usually would, but the words were also lacking their usual cheer and the letter itself was a bit shorter than what was normal for their usual correspondences. It was hard not being able to see each other. Sometimes for weeks at a time.

Being Hashira, they had little free time and even when they did, that free time almost never seemed to coincide. They would still come to visit the other if they weren’t downright exhausted, but since the other had to work, they still weren’t getting the quality time they both desired.

Shinobu briefly sat back in her chair. If she remembered correctly, (Y/n) should be scheduled for a period of rest soon. She leaned back over her desk and retrieved a fresh piece of stationary and began penning a response, inviting (Y/n) to rest within the Butterfly Mansion. Even though Shinobu found herself with more work than usual, it would be nice to at least be in proximity of her beloved. A sentiment she was sure (Y/n) could agree with.

She rolled the letter up and secured it with En. She made sure to thank her crow and promise her extra seed when she returned, noticing how the usually content bird looked a bit ruffled having to leave (Y/n)’s crow, Unmei, so soon when they had only just arrived from their long flight. Having been spending more time together themselves, the crows had become quite the couple as well. Literal love birds; It was rather sweet.

If all went well, they would all have a good three or four days together within the mansion.

Shinobu was surprised to see En return with a response early the next morning, showing yet again that she was one of the fastest Kasugai Crows in the corps. She plopped the letter in Shinobu’s lap and promptly went to roost with Unmei until the other crow had to return to (Y/n).

Shinobu opened the letter, finding the same lack of cheer as the previous message, but at least they had agreed to come and had expressed that they were looking forward to seeing everyone. The poor slayer must have been really going through it as of late. Hopefully a little time off would help them perk right back up.

***

On the morning that (Y/n) arrived, Shinobu was much too busy to greet them right away. She assumed it was fine since she knew the other girls were more than qualified to help (Y/n) settle in as they had done a handful of times before. (Y/n) would probably be exhausted and want to sleep anyway, so she didn’t think too much about it until they came knocking at her laboratory door.

“(Y/n), good morning love. It’s so good to see you. I would have thought you would want to nap.” Shinobu could afford a brief pause in her work at that moment, so she looped around the table to greet (Y/n) with a quick peck on the lips and what was supposed to be a brief hug, but (Y/n) kept her close even after she moved to let go.

“I just really wanted to see you. Is it all right if I hang out in here with you?“

“I suppose that will be fine. As long as you promise not to distract me,” Shinobu teased. “There is much to be done.”

(Y/n) managed a half smile, “I’ll try to stay out of your way.”

That was a bit strange… but Shinobu chalked it up to them being tired from their trip. She gave them another quick peck and cleared a small spot at the table for them before diving right back into her pharmaceuticals. An influx of patients had really put a dent in their supply, so Shinobu had been working overtime to restore it, one drug at a time.

(Y/n) silently watched Shinobu work, slowly slumping over in their seat until their head was resting on their arms over the table. Their eyes dropped shut and their breathing slowed. Shinobu’s eyes flickered to them briefly and she smiled to herself while she continued to grind some dried sage into a fine powder.

It was some point after she started measuring the powder that (Y/n) started to become restless, a sudden sob pushing past their lips startled Shinobu and made her knock over the measured powders over the table. She was not annoyed in the slightest however, she was much more worried about whatever nightmare was plaguing her beloved’s mind.

“(Y/n), darling, it’s only a dream,” she soothed, stepping over to their hunched and quaking form in hopes of waking them before they could experience anymore sorrow, “come back to me, wake up.”

Shinobu looped an arm around the and used the other to lightly scrape her fingers up and down their back. Her cheek rested high between their shoulders blades, but she quickly had to readjust when (Y/n) jolted in their seat, back now pin straight. Even so, they still weren’t quite awake yet.

“(Y/n),” Shinobu called their name more sternly now, hoping to bring them back sooner, “wake up!”

She then noticed (Y/n)’s eyes focus on her, and after a tense moment, they slumped back against the table, exhausted and breathing just a bit erratically.

“I’m sorry.” They croaked.

“Shhh, just breathe for a minute. You’ve done nothing wrong.” But the sentiment only seemed to make (Y/n) feel worse, their back trembled violently beneath Shinobu’s hand.

Shinobu coaxed them to breathe between light touches and after a time, (Y/n) quieted. With tender care, Shinobu lifted (Y/n)’s head and dabbed at the corners of their eyes with the sleeve of her haori before cupping their cheek with the palm of her hand, skimming her thumb over their damp skin.

“Are you going to be alright? That must have been an awful nightmare. Poor dear, you’re still shaking.” She shrugged off her haori all together to give them an extra layer. “It was only a dream, let the feeling pass.”

“But it wasn’t just a dream.” (Y/n) whispered, “Those people really died because I didn’t get there in time.”

“We can only do so much, my love. You did the best you could. At the end of the night, that’s all any of us can say.”

“They were newly weds. They looked like us.”

Shinobu pulled them in to rest their head against her chest, stroking the back of their head, they continued speaking after a moment.

“There was nothing I could do but lay them together in their final moments, help them hold each other’s hand. They were too weak to even speak, they just, stared at each other until they were… gone.”

“I’m sorry, darling. You did help them stay together in the end. I’m sure putting them next to each other in those last moments meant more to them than you will ever know.”

Shinobu held (Y/n) until they pulled away on their own. Their eyes caught the mess of powder on the table, but Shinobu was quick to bring their attention back to her.

“It was only an accident and wasn’t even your fault. Don’t worry, I have plenty more.”

“Still…”

“No.” Shinobu tapped the bridge of their nose, then kissed it for good measure, “How about we take tea in my room?”

“You don’t have to let your work suffer because of me. I’ll be fine.”

“You are my priority as well. Kanao and Aoi are plenty capable of doing this task and will probably be happy to do it just to make me step away from the lab for a bit. The only thing suffering right now is you, and I cannot have that,” another kiss and a gentle tug of their hand, “come with me now.”

(Y/n) squeezed Shinobu’s offered hand, grateful for the warmth and the unique feeling of those lotion smoothed calluses. They could hold her hand forever if she’d let them.

“Okay.”

They saw Sumi, Kiyo and Naho in the hall as they left the lab and they were eager to lend their assistance. One went off to make tea, one to get Kanao, and another to get Aoi to help with the medicine demands while Shinobu took a short break.

It didn’t take long for (Y/n) and Shinobu to be cuddled up in front of Fugu’s tank, watching the fish lazily swim about while they sipped the relaxing tea brew Sumi had whipped up with some help from Aoi.

“I wish it could be like this all of the time,” (Y/n) murmured behind the rim of their cup, “I wish I could be with you every day, that demons didn’t exists and we could just live like normal people.”

“We will just have to make the most of the time we do spend together. Just as anyone else. No one truly knows how much time they have. Even if demons were out of the question, there are many other factors at play,” she leaned back from her position sat between (Y/n)’s legs and let her head rest against their chest, “No matter what we may face, every second I get to spend with you is a victory. I feel like I’m really getting away with something when I get to be with you like this.”

(Y/n) put their empty cup back on the table so they could hug Shinobu closer to their front and hide their face against her neck. They took a moment to burn the feeling into their brain, the comfort of Shinobu’s bedroom, the wisteria scent that clung to her, and how her fingers ran over their own. They really were getting away with something special, weren’t they?

“I love you.”

“And I love you.”

[dozing-marshmallow]

Pls let me know if you're getting tired for writing for Chris, I just find so few stories for him so I'm starved for content lol

That being said, what about Chris x reader where the reader is more extroverted and sweet when around Chris and more introverted/shy when he's not around?

I'm a suckered for sweet fluffy things if you couldn't tell lmao, thanks for writing my requests!

NO PLEASE, I LOVE WRITING FOR HIM, DON’T WORRY, I FEEL THE EXACT SAME WAY! IT’S ALL MY PLEASURE!!❤️❤️

CHRIS MCLEAN X AMBIVERT! READER HEADCANONS

“Wait so you mean, completely quiet?” Chris asked, finding himself talking about you to Chef one day.

“Exactly that, man. Not one sound from her.” The latter affirmed.

Chris didn’t believe him. You? Quiet? What a deplorable combination!

Then again, he never sees if your demeanour changes whenever he isn’t there.

Probably because he isn’t there.

“Is that riiiight?” his teeth twinkled.

He wanted to see it true for himself. A social experiment, by taking you to a restaurant.

You didn’t suspect anything,“This is such a nice place, Chris! You know all the great places.”

“Mhmm! Pick whatever you want. It’s on me.” It’s always touching when he uses his wealth for generosity.

“I love it when you spoil me,” your tone’s loving regard. 

“It’s all in the package, (Y/N)!” He winks.

“I always feel bad though like, I wish there was something I could do for you in return.”

Oh, there is. He won’t disclose it just yet, but started hinting, going back on the first page of the menu,“Huh, looks like this restaurant isn’t so traditional...”

“Yeah...it’s either we order by our phones or we go up to the cashier.” You apprise, scratching the side of your head.

“What percentage is your phone at?”

“Eighty two, that’s fine, riiiight?” 

Not today,“Well, my phone’s almost dead and I’m the one paying. Sooo...” This was it,“You think you can go up front and order for both of us?” His voice was so mesmerising, you didn’t deep what he was asking you to do.

So fine...“Not a problem! I’d need to have it down though.”

Hence the additional time taken to type down both of what you wanted onto your phone.

“Awesome!” He lends his card to you, half jokingly instructing,“Guard that with  your life.”

“Of course!” It’s only fair.

Not what your heart thought the second you turn to leave.

You...going up to the front and order? You never had a problem with talking one on one with staff...with Chris there at minimum.

You take a few steps away from your table and see the line of people. People... Living people. Real living people. Real living thinking people.

It’s only fair.

You quickly go back to him, seeing him play with the salt,“There’s a really long queue and it seems like we’re both gonna be lonely for a while... Do you wanna come wait with me?” Please say yes.

Is it? He resists his smirk,“Shouldn’t someone guard the table in case a weirdo wants to do something funny while we’re gone?”

Darn it, he has a point,“Truue. Alright, I’ll...go in the line.”

He chuckles,“Don’t get murdered.”

Not if I die from this first. You curse under your breath as you turn back around.

Without Chris, you’re practically a nobody. You have no right to prance jolly and golly.

“Next!”

That’s you. You’ve waited this long.

His voice...is loud.

Go. You’re keeping the people behind you waiting. 

You simply pass your phone over, writing a thank you note underneath the main order. It’s silent. You’re dreading. The waiter isn’t saying anything. You weren’t saying anything. What’s the people behind thinking?

Praise be, the waiter transferred the order over to the register machine and you(technically Chris) paid for the right amount without a fuss.

That was it? Huh... That...wasn’t so bad... A bit awkward, but you got the job done.

For the last time; you never want to do that again. That was way out your comfort zone.

On the bright side, at least you didn’t need to worry about talking to strangers, staff, again and were already given cups of glass to drink and refill to your heart’s desire.

“Well! I’d say that was a refreshing meal.” Chris compliments, sipping from his cup,“How about some dessert? You’ll go up for that, yeah?”

Are you serious?

“Uh...” you look away. He probably wasn’t used to seeing you like this... Oh dear...

Outside, he didn’t know any better,“Huh? Is there a problem?” Inside, he was blossoming from your (un)usual behaviour.

“I...don’t think I can. I don’t know how I do it... I’m fine with the world watching me on TV, yet to talk to someone else without you there... It feels so difficult, because I remember there’s so many places I would never see the inside to if it weren’t for you...” you ramble, blood rushing to your face. You can’t believe you said it.

“You’re really cheesy, you know that?“ he coos at you, leaning forward at your avoiding eye contact and boiling face response,“Awww! Look at you all embarrassed!”

Of course! You were having this conversation in a restaurant,“I can’t help it! That’s just how I feel around you. You bring the best out of me, Chris! So I want you to witness it. Everyone else...meh.”

He laughs lowly in response,“Just the charm of a really handsome host, huh? It’s okay, you don’t need to be so refined around other people.” He didn’t think your essential other half would be so cute,“Wanna get the ice cream?”

“What, and make me order?” You grabbed onto your collars,“Chris...please don’t...”

He puts his hands up,“Alright alright, I’ll go this time. You want chocolate syrup with yours?”

You nod rapidly. His confidence glows...

You want to be like that someday.