#secret agent porsche

[live-from-flaturn]

Bond Girl Kim

Listen, I am sick and fucking tired of seeing all these hyper-competent Kim fics. I love them, and I will read every single one, but personally? We need some flavor. We need a little spice in our Kim characterization. So here’s my submission for the approval of The Midnight Society: Bond Girl Kim.

Kim works as a model and is absolutely fucking useless in the grand scheme of things. 

He’s the only member of his family who chose not to follow tradition and become a super-spy. 

Chay’s older brother joined the Secret Intelligence Initiative (or whatever their spy business is called) when he was a teenager and now Chay works in R&D.

Yes, that means Chay is Q.

And Tankhun is M.

Kinn is 007 and Porsche is 008. They are a badass team and have one of the highest success rates (also the most HR complaints for being seen in compromising positions).

Kim! In! Tiny! 1960′s! Men’s! Swimwear! Tiny pink striped shorts, that’s all I’m sayin’. 

This man is swooning, fainting, and passing out EVERYWHERE. If there’s a flat surface he can safely collapse onto, there he fuckin’ goes.

Zero braincells. Zero sense of self-preservation. He has been kidnapped by 18 separate terrorist organizations and he’s not about to stop falling for their “I lost my kitten” trap.

Chay is mostly annoyed with how often his bf gets tied up by other people.

I just think we should tie Kim to more train tracks and let him cry until his mascara runs. That’s all.

@just-slightly-chaotic, @eggwars and @fuckyeah-itme have been enabling me so far, but I have lots of ideas and would love to talk more about this. :D

[phyrestartr]

PR Stunt (Only, Right?) | Sukuna/M!Reader

W/C: 6.9K (oh god lol) #NSFW, fingering, implied fucking, bottom!reader, top!sukuna, angst, fluff, smut, happy ending, Sukuna owns a body shop, reader is an actor, kinda meet cute, ABO dynamics, mpreg, yes there are always babies involved because i love dad sukuna, surprise baby, sukuna is a dickhead (what else is new), Gojo is an actor, Getou is a manager/agent, Toji is a stunt coordinator, Jin is a teacher tags: @kamote-kuneho @better-imagination-9 @flowersatwork @watyousayin 

“Did you sleep with (L. Name) (F. Name)?” 

The question caught Sukuna off guard; normally, Uraume didn't inquire into his personal life in regards to who he had and hadn't slept with. They were a friend, yes, but moreover they were the bookkeeper and helped with securing clients and arranging meetings–celebrities and their managers were fucks that Sukuna didn't like negotiating with. Best to leave the yapping to someone with a cooler head.

“Where the hell did that come from?” Sukuna asked as he rolled out from under the newest commissioned vehicle. 

Uraume walked to him, iPad in hand, and turned it to him, stone cold. 

Sukuna sat up straighter and squinted at the screen, annoyed. You’d probably just made up some salacious rumour and spread it throughout your friend circles; or worse, you wanted revenge on him for something he probably definitely did. In that case, Sukuna could somewhat understand. But still–

(Name) putting on weight? What’s happening to the former bombshell babe of Japan?!

Pregnant with a baby boy?! The secret's out!

(Name) returns to the stage after giving birth to a baby boy–but who is the father?

(Name) driving a Ryoumen Sukuna rescue vehicle?! Could he be the deadbeat dad we've been looking for?

Sukuna sucked his teeth after skimming over the article titles presented to him. 

“...No proof.” 

“Ah. Then please explain this,” Uraume requested, still polite as ever, as they flicked to an additional few images the scumbag paparazzi had caught of you. 

One was the car mentioned. Sukuna remembered it like it was yesterday–the joy of restoring a Porsche 911 back into its former glory was unmatched. You happily paid for all the parts and too often swung by to see the progress being made on the old thing. Obviously, Sukuna was more than happy to oblige. 

The next was of you holding a little nugget of a baby against your chest as you walked down a street in Shibuya. Nothing too damning, nothing too inspirational. 

But the last one–

“The fuck?” Sukuna mumbled as he snatched the iPad from Uraume’s hands and zoomed in on the now-toddler sitting with you in that damn Porsche, grinning brightly beside his mum while you ruffled his hair. His very, very pink hair. 

Sukuna took a breath while he thought. He didn't have to think too hard, though, not when he still dreamed about you and the short-lived fling between the two of you. 

“A Porsche 911, huh?” Sukuna grinned as he looked over the rusted beater of a car. He could still see scraps of its former glory, of the beautiful thing she used to be. Heaven knows she would've become an irreparable hunk of junk if you hadn't bought it from a scrapyard. 

“Yep.” You beamed. “So you think you can make her pretty again?” 

“You kidding? I'd pay you to let me fix this thing, baby.” Sukuna caught sight of your security stepping forward, but you waved them off without a second thought. 

Sukuna smirked. “But it’s not gonna be cheap.” 

You nodded. “Well, do what you have to. I'll pay whatever you need, handsome.” 

“Yeah?” Sukuna asked, looking your neatly-manicured appearance up and down; you were dressed like you were meeting someone of great importance (and you were, obviously), with your hair groomed perfectly, outfit fit for a premiere, skin flawless. 

“Mhm. And I tip well.” you looked him up and down in kind, grinning as you bit at the nub of your sunglasses.

“Done.” 

Every time you came to check on his progress, genuine excitement flooding in your motormouthed words, you'd go home with him and fuck him silly. 

And now, you were the momma to his baby. Allegedly. 

“I–so what the fuck does this have to do with anything?” Sukuna ran a frustrated hand through his hair after Uraume took the tablet back. “Bitch isn't asking for anything, he's not asking me to be his public fucking baby daddy, not asking me to pay for nothing?” 

“No,” Uraume conceded, “But he and his PR managers have reached out concerning this.” 

The man groaned and stood. “Fucking hell. Can't stand fucking PR teams. The fuck did they want?” 

“They want to make a statement about Touma's father.” 

Sukuna froze.

“Touma's a good name for a boy, right?” 

You asked the question so suddenly, so out of nowhere in the quiet of the afterglow. The city lights sparkled and winked at you both through the towering windows keeping you safe from the outside world. In hindsight, Sukuna would wonder if the city was excited for him. For you. 

“What, for a mutt?” Sukuna drawled, puffing on a blunt while he played with your hair and drowned in the tingles left in the wake of fingers drawing circles on his bare chest. 

“For a kid,” you chastised with a laugh. “I like Touma. Or Touka for a girl. Ayato's nice, too. Maybe Kazue.” 

“You better not be pregnant.”

“I'm not, I'm not. I'm just getting baby fever, I guess.” You hummed and left a sweet kiss against his tan skin. “I guess being around a big, bad boy like you's got me feeling domestic.” 

Sukuna laughed, dazed and happy. “You wanna ruin this pretty lil’ body for a fucking kid? Be my guest. Just don't come looking for a booty call after you've ruined yourself like that.” 

“Oh, don't worry,” you cooed. “I won't.” 

Man. Man. 

“A statement.” 

“In other words–”

“I'm not the fucking father.” 

“This might be a good way to get Yorozu off your case,” Uraume suggested, and Sukuna perked up. 

“Right. She fuckin’ hates kids.” 

“So, if you were to have a son, and it's revealed you've been quietly trying to make things work behind the scenes with (Name), then hypothetically–”

“I'll take the runt.”

Truth is out–Ryoumen Sukuna is the father, (Name) tells fans on social media!

Sukuna hated seeing that shit. The circus celebrities had to dance through used to be funny until he somehow got swept up into it. Until he suddenly had a baby boy that looked so much like him and so much like you. 

He spent too much time on your socials, scrolling through promotion posts and photos of you at red carpet events and premieres–and then he remembered you had a private account. One that you said he could follow. One that he never followed.

Sukuna rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling as he sulked in bed. Was he really about to sacrifice his pride for this? Was he seriously gonna request to follow your personal account just moments after articles dropped and tweets were sent about him being the baby daddy? Could his pride take it? 

Fuck me. This shit is highschool. 

He requested to follow, and not even a minute later, you approved it. 

That had him interested. Did you want him to follow? Did you want him to be part of his little guy's life? Were you feeling a rush of anxiety and excitement like he was right now? 

“Get over it, you fucking idiot,” he mumbled to himself before scrolling through your photos. 

There was so much more here. So many photos of you pregnant, of Touma when he was so ridiculously itty bitty, of when you were recovering in the hospital, looking worn out and exhausted, but still beaming as you held your little boy. 

There were photos of his first birthday and the cute…rustic cake you'd apparently made yourself. Your agent, Getou, was there, as was one of your fellow agency mates, Gojo, along with some other folks Sukuna did and didn't recognize. 

Of course, his boy–your boy lit up the centre, eyes glittering with the reflection of sparklers and the warmth of a good, safe home. He was happy. The boy–his boy–your boy was happy. 

Then he called you. He couldn't help it, not anymore.

Sukuna paced around his penthouse, sipping on his spiked coffee and trying to desperately control his…nerves? Alpha instincts? Excitement? Fuck, he didn't know. But he was full of whatever it was, and it drove him nuts.

“Hi!” You answered as you picked up, so full of life as usual. “Been a while. How're you? What's up?” 

Sukuna felt so, so old suddenly. Why were you so awake in the morning? 

“Think you can spare some of that pep in your step for me?” Sukuna asked. He smiled when he heard you laugh on the other line. “Dunno how the hell you're so awake in the morning.”

“Well, I don't party or work on cars until the crack of dawn,” you purred back, so sweet and teasing. Sukuna almost got hard. Ugh. Ugh. What the fuck was wrong with him? 

“Hah? What, you sayin’ I'm irresponsible ‘n make shitty choices, babe?” 

“Absolutely.” 

“Tch. Omegas.” 

You snickered again before cutting to the chase: “So, you're calling about my Touma?”

Sukuna swallowed. “Yeah. Gotta say I'm pretty fucking confused.”

“Yeah, I get it.” He heard you shift in bed, triggering a rumble of grumpy noises from your little one. You hushed him gently and apologized before the small, crackly purring resumed faintly in the background. The thought made Sukuna's heart ache.

“What do you wanna know?” 

Sukuna inhaled deeply. “Why'd you keep it?” 

“I wanted him,” you said. “Next question.”

“...When did you know?” 

“Mmh…I guess about a week or two after we stopped hooking up.”

“And you didn't say shit?” 

You went silent for a moment, and Sukuna felt his nerves tingle and prick. He wasn't anxious. He wasn't feeling betrayed. It wasn't any of that. Absolutely not. 

“I guess I got cold feet,” you admitted. “I don't--I know how many baby daddy accusations you get, y'know? I didn't want you to think I was just trying to get you to pay me out or something.” 

Oh. Okay. That made sense, actually. 

Too many omegas and women Sukuna fucked around with pointed the finger at him if they caught some sort of STI or fell pregnant; even if it was months after fucking, Sukuna would be suspected of fathering the pregnancy of a newly-pregnant, ex-partner he hadn't seen in eternities, and the media would run to the ends of the earth with it. He was the infamous bad boy the media circuit loved to prey on. And Sukuna didn't really care for it–not until now. Not until those fucks ruined his opportunity to be a dad. 

“Fucking–” Sukuna sighed and put his mug down to rub his face. “Shit. Shit. Fucking media bastards. Fuck.”

“I need to get my car tuned,” you said.

Sukuna deadpanned. “Read the fucking room, babe, we're not–”

“Do you want me to bring Touma?” You finished, undeterred by the alpha's grouchiness. “So you can meet him? I think he'd like that.”

Oh. Oh. Ouch. His heart–was Sukuna about to die? Why'd his chest hurt so much? What the fuck? 

Sukuna cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair. “I–yeah? Yeah. Alright.” 

“Okay, cool. When's your next–” 

“Tomorrow.” He cleared his throat again and scratched at the back of his neck. “Any time.” 

You stifled a laugh poorly. “Don’t be nervous, Sukuna.” 

“M'not. Fuck you.” 

“I can do tomorrow. Let's saaay…1pm?” 

“Yeah, sure. 1pm.”

You rolled up at 12:59pm. 

Sukuna had the garage open, everything tidy and ready to go like he actually gave a fuck about tuning your car when his literal fucking son was about to be in his presence. But he was so not nervous. Definitely not fucking nervous. Nope. Nuh-uh. Never. 

You stepped out of the car and Sukuna felt his heart jump; you looked the same as you did last time he saw you. You were dressed more casually, though, done up in joggers and runners with a university hoodie to top it all off. Clearly, you didn't care to impress today. 

You threw Sukuna an easy smile before pulling open the back door and taking care in plucking your chubby bunny from his car seat. All the while, Sukuna wandered closer and closer, but maintained a respectful distance just in case your momma bear came out to bite. He knew you had an impressive temper when your easy-going self got pushed too far, and he would rather not bring that out right now. 

“Pa!” Your son yipped as soon as he got up into your arms. “Puh Pa!” 

You melted immediately, punching Sukuna in the gut with your happy scent of maple syrup and cardamom as the little one nuzzled up to you, repeating variants of “pa!” as he rubbed his chubby cheeks and snotty nose against your neck and face to get that perfect scent onto him. 

“You're so sweet, bunny,” you cooed and adjusted him in your arms as you met Sukuna the rest of the way. “Hey, hey! So, did you want to meet him first, or–?” 

Sukuna didn't know what the fuck to do, honestly. 

“I, uh. Car shit first. What needs tuning?” He drawled, watching the pup clinging to you with rapt attention. 

Admittedly, Sukuna didn't really pay attention to what you were saying and what you were gesturing to; he was too captivated by the faint wisps of scent he caught from your little one. He smelled of smoke and syrup–a perfect combination of his parents’ scents. 

And he just looked so much like the both of you. Touma's skin tone tilted more your direction, but the glowy, bronzey quality that Sukuna brought to the table still shone through in its own weird way. His eyes were almond-shaped like his own, but bore the same, welcoming colour of yours. And, fuck, his hair was just a perfect match to Sukuna's. If the little shit got Maori tattoos too, he'd be a tiny carbon copy. 

Damn. Speaking of–would his mom wanna meet the little shit? Her grandson? Would she ever bother leaving Hawaii to–

“You get all that?” You asked. 

Sukuna stared at you. “Get what?” 

You pursed your lips like you so often did and turned to the big, bad alpha. 

“Maybe we should do the meet ‘n greet first, huh?” You swayed a little and kissed Touma awake. “Baby, you wanna meet a friend?” 

“Buh!” Touma exclaimed. You gently guided his little face to look at Sukuna, and the boy looked star struck staring up at the absolute unit that was Ryoumen Sukuna. 

“Touma, this is Sukuna.” You closed the gap between the two of you a little more, and Sukuna leaned down to look at the little one. His little one. 

Sukuna twitched a smile as he looked over the little thing. “You sure this thing’s mine? Looks a little small.” 

You laughed. “If you were born as big as you are, I’m so, so sorry for your mother.” You nuzzled Touma’s little cheek and bounced him a little. 

“Wuh!” Touma’s little arms flew up towards Sukuna, and the towering man looked a little more than nervous, looking at the tiny pudgy hands like they were deadly weapons. 

“Come on, don’t look at him like that.” You took Sukuna’s hand and delivered it to Touma. “He’s curious. He hasn’t met anyone as big and tall as you, y’know?” 

Sukuna huffed, but let the little one grab at his fingers and hold his hand. “What, you don’t have another alpha looking after you? Hard to believe that. You're the neediest little bitch I know.” 

“Stop. I'm not Yorozu,” you huffed, and Sukuna cringed at the name. “He has alphas around, sure. But not big ones like you–security excluded. It's not like other men want to play nice with another alpha's pup.” 

Sukuna caught the hint of a frown on your face, and his hackles started to rise. 

“Some dumbfuck giving you grief?” Sukuna asked, voice rolling with thunderous promise. He'd kill whatever moron fucked with you and his pup. You just had to drop the name.

You sighed, light-hearted. “You know what the rich and famous are like--we're the worst.” 

Sukuna growled, and Touma mimicked the noise as best as he could with his pathetically teeny tiny crackled voice. Fuckin’ cute as shit. 

“Tch. Don't sell yourself short.” 

“I'm just trying to say I don't need that around my boy, and I sure as hell don't want it around me, either.” You nodded and stepped closer as Touma reached up for Sukuna again. Apparently just holding his hand wasn't doing it for the boy anymore. 

“Good. Don't need those pathetic fucks around the runt–oi, wait, what the fuck're you–” 

“Wup, wup!” Your son shrieked as you helped bully Sukuna into holding him.

“He wants uppies.” 

“Uppies,” Sukuna balked.

“He wants you to–okay, you're bad at this–don't hold him like that! Here, do it like–” you cut off as you helped Sukuna get a comfortable hold on Touma while the littlest one squirmed and squeaked in delight, trying to climb up onto Sukuna's shoulder but failing miserably. 

Sukuna twitched a smile as you sighed, exasperated by the ball of energy trying to scale the mountainous man. But he got a hold of him, tucking his arm under his butt and holding his back to make sure the little shit didn't go plummeting to the floor. 

“You give your ma hell, huh? I can get behind that,” Sukuna hummed. His son's little hands papped at his face, grabbing at his nose and jaw–specifically over the dark tattoos streaking along the curves and cut of his features. 

And you smiled the entire time. You pursed your lips tightly to hide it, but you did it so poorly. You always did. Maybe it was on purpose. 

“So, can I tell you about my car problems now?” 

Sukuna held onto his runt while you explained what flaws, either cosmetically or mechanically, were bothering you. It mostly consisted of slight dents from other assholes not knowing how to park, paint scratches, and more of that sort. As a fellow car guy, Sukuna could understand the anguish of having a favourite baby get all dinged up. 

“Not hard to fix,” Sukuna decided. He held the hood up with one hand and looked over the motor–everything looked clean and well-maintained. He was almost impressed. “But, well, it'll cost ya. Uraume can send the details.” 

You nodded. “Sure, sure, sounds good. I'm never taking this thing on the road again after it's fixed. Too many fucking idiots out there with piss poor driving skills.” 

The mechanic smirked. “Ho? So beating up your car is what makes you start cussin’, huh? Noted.” He let the hood fall closed and adjusted his hold on the now-sleeping tot. “Couldn't even get you to do that in bed.” 

“Psht, don't say that in front of the baby, Sukuna, jeeze,” you sighed and rubbed your face. “Babies remember more than you'd like to know.” 

“Huh. You think he'll remember when he got–” 

“No, he won't remember his inception.” You laughed and shook your head, but paused when you saw smears of concealer on your fingers and tutted. 

“How long's the car gonna take? Should I get a rental?” You asked before the man could comment.

“Probably, if you want me to detail this thing right,” Sukuna mumbled. He reached out and turned your chin back to him, looking at the spots concealer missing, hinting at dark circles under your eyes. 

Your face grew hot, but you nodded and cleared your throat. “Yeah, okay. I'll, uh. I'll call someone to pick us up–” 

“I'll take you home.” 

You brightened the slightest bit. “Yeah? I–okay.” You pulled his hand from your face and smiled. “I'll grab the car seat.” 

Sukuna liked your house. It was a nice mix of traditional and modern with large stretches of woodgrain and bamboo. A neat outdoor garden and pond decorated the front, but a bigger, more lush collection of tropical plants greeted guests. It was beautiful, if one was desperate to be in nature. 

“I'm just gonna get him to bed, be one second.” 

Sukuna nodded and pocketed his hands as he pretended to not watch you trot upstairs with the sleepy cub melting in your arms. You still had a nice ass even after popping that little melon out. Huh. 

He looked around your space more, wandering with slow, lumbering steps. The house wasn't huge by any means, but it was cozy and warm, quiet and hidden away from the city's gaze. That was probably why you chose it–here, you could be honest with yourself. You could shield your babe from the brutality of your career and keep him safe from leering eyes. Honestly, one of the leaves on your giant monstera could hide him from the whole universe. 

Guy's too obsessed with growing shit. It ticked him off, but he didn't know why. 

Maybe it was all the photos of you and Touma. Maybe it was because he wasn't in them and too many other men were in his place, lining your walls in the protection of cheap IKEA frames–but Sukuna didn't want you. No, no, Ryoumen Sukuna did not want anyone. He didn't want you. He didn't need to settle down and–

“You want a glass of wine?” You asked when you came back down the stairs. “It's plum wine. Don't really have any scotch or anything, but I–” 

Sukuna scoffed before a mocking laugh slipped out of him. You paused, looking at him with bleak attention as he shook his head and pocketed his hands. Your request for him to stay pissed him off; clearly, you expected something more from him.

“Whaddaya think is gonna happen here, huh? You think we're gonna fall in love, pick up where we left off, have a happy little fuckin’ family to tell the tabloids about?” 

“What?” You asked. “I never–”

“Didn't have to. Gotta admit, you did a better job than the rest of the whores that tried wrangling me in to–”

“All I asked,” you cut him off, voice quiet but firm, “Is if you wanted wine. I’m not proposing, Sukuna.” 

Sukuna didn’t like that. The whole…not-being-into-him and not wanting him to stick around after he just shut you down. He sucked his teeth and took a breath, about to say something, but you spoke first. 

“I know this is a PR thing. I know how the whole media circus works–you want your ex to stop bothering you, and I want people to stop asking questions about who the fucking father of my son is.” You paused, staring Sukuna dead in his eyes, a quiet, simmering rage boiling just beneath the surface of placid control. 

“Call my manager when the car’s done,” you decided, sounding beaten down and exhausted. “I’ll send someone for it. Thanks for the ride home.”

Next thing the man knew, he was ushered toward the door and stood in the doorway, stuck on the idea of being kicked out of his omega’s–no, no, out of an omega’s house like he was trash. 

“Fucking–wait, just–” 

“What?” You snapped.

“I could–glass of wine doesn’t sound too bad–”

You shoved the bottle into his hands and slammed the door. 

Sukuna tried to sleep it off–as in, he slept around to forget about the crushing weight of rejection collapsing down on him, shattering his chest, spearing his heart with shattered bone. 

You still kept being so fucking nice to him, too. You never slandered him, never spoke ill whenever he was asked about in interviews–you spared his reputation with a kind smile every time you had to talk about him or to him. 

And he was grateful for it, even if he didn't return the favor. It's not like he was on a smear campaign, no, but anytime a hook up would ask about you, he wouldn't give a glowing review, per se. But it wouldn't be scalding either. Just sheer indifference tainted with drops of bitterness stemming from unripe guilt.

It went on like that for months–until you did your parental duties, and set aside your feelings about Sukuna for the sake of your son.

“Uraume, get that,” Sukuna called as his phone rang. He was too busy fucking around under the hood of his latest project to wipe his hands free of grease and pick up himself, obviously.

But Uraume was there for a reason. They picked up the phone with a polite hello before their sharp frigidity melted into rounded edges. 

“(Name)-san,” they hummed. “It's good to hear from you. Do you need to talk to Sukuna-san?” 

Sukuna started wiping his hands off so unbelievably fast. 

“He's working on a car right now. You know how he can be when he's focused.”

“Fucking–piece of shit–what the fuck–” somehow, he got even more grease and oil on his hands thanks to that stupid fucking rag. God, what a nightmare.

“Sure, I can take a message.” 

“Fuckin’ shit fuck, fuck.” He wiped his hands on his designer jeans before running to Uraume and gesturing for the phone.

Uraume's brows raised, and they actually smiled. 

“Ah, hold on, Sukuna-san's here.” 

Sukuna snatched up the phone, ignoring the knowing look glimmering in Uraume’s eyes. Ugh. Ugh. Betas.

“Hey,” Sukuna said after clearing his throat. 

“Hey! Ume said you were working on a car? You didn't have to stop to talk.” 

“Yeah, well.” Sukuna shrugged to himself and kicked a scrapped car part, sending it skittering across the ground and clanking into other parts. Jesus, when did his shop get so messy? “Needed a break anyway.” 

“Ah. You work too hard, you need to take breaks more often,” you laughed sweetly. “So, listen, Touma's birthday's coming up–”

“Shit, seriously?” Sukuna grinned and kicked another chopped part. “Fuck. How old's the little shit turning?” 

“Two! He's growing up so fast, I wish I could slow down time and–” you paused and laughed, suddenly sounding unsure and a bit nervous. “Sorry, sorry, was about to go on a tangent. Anyway, there is a little get-together, but you don't have to come. Satoru and Toji'll be there. But your brother and his son'll be there, too, so it won't suck completely.

“Otherwise, if you want to come see him earlier or something, that's fine, and–and you're not cutting me off and I didn't think I'd get this far so I'm losing the plot.” 

Sukuna huffed. “What, you don't want me to fuckin’ listen, huh?” 

“I know you will since I have such a pretty voice, but I'm surprised you're being a good boy for once.” 

The mechanic rolled his eyes and rubbed his face. Who knows if it was to wipe away embarrassment or fatigue. 

“You’re exhausting.” 

“And you’re a dick.” There was a special brand of teasing bitterness behind those words, but the vibes were balanced perfectly; seemed you were still cranky about what he said, but you were willing to let it slide.

Sukuna chuckled, relaxing the slightest bit. “Alright. I don't know what the fuck kids like at that age, but I'll figure somethin’ out. I can at least show up Jin.” 

“Wow.” 

“Text me time and place. I'll be there.” After a moment, he added, “I’ll bring some plum wine. Fancy shit.”

The hidden rumble of a purr snuck its way out from your side, and Sukuna did everything he could to suppress his alpha's reciprocation.

“Sounds good. See you then, Sukuna.”

Toji answered the door. 

“Hah. Why the hell are you here?” The fuckhead ex-Zenin asked with a stupid, shitty smirk on his dumbass face. 

Sukuna strained not to throw the first punch. He really shouldn't murder someone at his--your son's birthday party. Murder is bad. Murder is bad. 

“Fuck you.” Hey, at least it wasn't murder. “‘M here for my fucking kid.” 

Toji crossed his arms and suddenly looked beyond bored as he leaned against the doorframe. 

“Your kid? You mean (Name)’s kid?” He wondered, putting on a show of thinking. “Weird.”

“You're one to talk. You forgetting what you did to your own brat? You fuckin’--”

“Sukuna!” Your sweet voice called, instantly changing the atmosphere. “Glad you came. Do you–oi, Toji, move, stop bodyguarding. You're not a bouncer.”

“Eh?” Toji stayed in his spot as you smacked at his arm and tried to push him away. “I'm just standing here. Not bodyguarding. Minding my business.” 

“You’re so full of shit.” You wheezed and squeaked as the man suddenly gave way, nearly making you crash into him and plummet to the floor. But you caught yourself and hissed at the dark-haired menace until he whistled innocently and waltzed away. 

“Fucking--why’s he here again?” Sukuna grumbled as you let him in. He leaned down to nose at your cheek with a grumpy, quiet grunt--typical greeting procedures for an interested individual or bonded pair. But the way you choked on whatever you were about to say meant he must've caught you off guard. 

“He's uh–we work together. We've worked together? He was the stunt coordinator for some movies I've been in.” You cleared your throat and took the present bag from Sukuna to place with the others. “And I babysit Gumi sometimes.” 

“Gumi? What the fuck is a Gumi?” 

“Megumi? His son?” Oh. Oh. “I babysit Yuuji too, so. Thick as thieves, y'know?” 

Sukuna nodded a little, thinking hard on the lore. He liked that Yuuji was taken care of by you, but surely that wretched Gumi could go somewhere else. Toji was probably just leeching off of you. 

“Oi, Momma, get in here,” Toji crowed from wherever all the baby giggles and excitement bubbled from in the house. “Your boys need some maternal guidance–” 

“Toji, don't make it weird!” Jin whisper-yelled before going on a long-winded rant about this and that, about proper behaviour and attitudes in front of children (not that the kids were paying attention to anything Toji did). 

You gave Sukuna a tired smile. “Come on. It won’t be that bad, I promise.”

Sukuna sighed, but let you drag him to his demise, bottle of wine in-hand.

But it wasn’t that bad. Not really. 

Your other boys, Gojo Satoru and Getou Suguru, showed up and showered tiny Touma with way too much praise and far too many gifts, but the little shit looked so pleased that Sukuna couldn’t get too annoyed. Shoko and Uraume came by, too, much to Sukuna’s surprise. Uraume brought with them a whole fucking confectionary cake they’d crafted themselves at home. Gojo obsessed over it and Getou tried to reign him in to no avail. 

And the night went on. No one talked shit, not unless it was in good fun, no one got fucking hammered, no one talked about work–it was all about the kids. Nothing else. No one else. 

Sukuna could never guess just how far that truth went.

When everyone left for the night, the alpha could start to see the edges of your smile fraying. But you held on, thanking everyone for the gifts and for showing up for Touma, and especially thanking Jin for offering to let all the little ones spend the night at his place (you and Toji would forever be in his debt). 

Then, when the door closed and all fell silent, he heard you cry. 

Sukuna didn't know what to do about people crying. He never had. Even when he was a kid, he had a hard time trying to comfort people with hugs and words of reassurance–he just couldn't do it. 

“It's okay,” he heard you whisper. “It's okay. It's okay. You're okay. It's okay. I'm okay.” 

Sukuna got up and leaned against the doorway to the kitchen. “Sure about that?”

You jumped and clasped a hand over your mouth to stifle your scream. Sukuna barked out an ugly, reedy laugh while he defended himself from your petty smacks and pinches. 

“You scared the fuck out of me–why're you still even here? Go home! Shoo!” You wiped your eyes once you were done harassing him and turned away, busying yourself with cleaning up dishes and wrapping paper left in the aftermath. 

Sukuna followed you idly, a shit-eating grin still plastered on his face. What could he say? He loved seeing you get all petty and riled up. But he didn't love seeing you cry. He didn't love seeing you try to stealthily wipe tears away, to try and steady your shaky breathing. 

“What’s going on with you, babe?” Sukuna asked as he settled beside you at the sink. 

“It's nothing,” you said with a snuffle. “It's seriously nothing. Sorry, I--you don't need to stay. Or anything.” You sighed and rubbed at your eyes with your sleeve. “You've done your fatherly duties. You're free to leave.” 

“Yeah? ‘N what about my baby daddy duties?” He wondered, voice so horribly low and comforting, like the buzzing crackle of a campfire. 

You laughed, watery and shaky. “You already did everything you needed to, Sukuna.” 

“Come on, don't cockblock me like that.” He gently tilted your Chin his way to catch your eyes just like he had back at the shop all those months ago. “Look at me.” 

You did. Your eyes were red and irritated, whatever pretty boy make up you wore was wiped off and smudged, and those heavy, dark bags met the light in front of someone else for the first time in a long time. 

You still had the gall to laugh it off and pull Sukuna's hand from your face with a small, “I'm fine,” though. 

“Then why the hell are you crying?” He asked. 

You squeezed his hand with both of yours. “Things are just…hard. Overwhelming.”

Sukuna nodded a bit. “That why Jin took the runts tonight?” 

“Yeah. Needed some time, I guess.” You snuffled and wiped your face with both hands before finishing up with cleaning. “Makes me sound like a shit parent, I know.” 

Sukuna couldn’t disagree more. “Least you're not flipping out on the kid. That'd be way shittier, yeah?” 

“I don't know. I guess, but–yeah. I don't know.” 

Sukuna sighed and scooped you up like a new bride. “You're driving me fucking mental.”

“Sukuna–!”

“Quiet.” Your omega indeed piped down at the grouchy command, and you shyly let the man carry you up the steps to find your bedroom. “You're getting some damn rest. You look like shit.” 

You grumbled something Sukuna elected to ignore in favour of tossing you onto a bed the way one might lob a stone into a pond. You landed with a warbled squawk and looked at Sukuna with horribly accusatory, baffled eyes. 

Sukuna quirked a brow as he looked down on you, gladly using his broad build and tall stature to secure your submission. And it worked; the aggravated spark in your eyes curled up and fell silent after a few long seconds. Your head lowered just the slightest bit, too, but your passive gaze remained stuck on him, waiting for his next move. 

“Fine,” you grumbled. 

Sukuna raised his brows and eased onto the bed, caging you underneath him with his solid frame. Your scent flickered with shy playfulness, and Sukuna relished in it. 

“How do I know you're gonna obey, omega?” 

“I guess you don't. Not for certain,” you admitted begrudgingly. 

“Tch. Someone's gotta keep you accountable then, huh?” He nosed at your neck, nearly letting his lips touch your neck but refusing to do so in the same instance. “Make sure you're doing the right thing, make sure you're behaving.” 

One of his hands squeezed at your soft thigh before inching up little by little. Your hands found themselves in his hair as he teased at your joggers’ waistband, pulling the elastic taut before letting it go. 

“Sukuna,” you laughed, sounding a little breathless. “I, uh–I thought you said–”

“Changed my mind.”

“But–”

“Forget what I said and let me make you cum on my fingers, brat.” 

Oh. Well, hard to argue against that. 

You swallowed but gave a meek nod. He ripped your bottoms off and felt up your blazing skin with rough, calloused hands, groping and grabbing in the same spots he liked back when you were hooking up: your thighs, your hip bones, the squish of your stomach. As much as the man harped on about not wanting “damaged goods,” he sure worshiped your body like it was brand new, untouched. 

Sukuna brought his fingers to your mouth, and you took them with utmost compliance. Your tongue worked against his digits thoughtfully and thoroughly for your own sake–a lack of starter lube wouldn't end well, after all. And Sukuna was not the most patient man in the sack.

“See?” Sukuna crowed into your ear as his hand traveled south and a finger sunk into you. “It's not so bad to just behave, now is it?” 

You already felt like you were about to explode, and Sukuna savoured It. He liked being the one to do this to you–the only one for a while, considering how tight and sensitive you were. Any little push or prod inside you brought sweet sighs and soft moans to the surface–and a second and third finger had your hips bucking and your nails digging into his shoulder and back as he finger-fucked you to oblivion while still caging you in. 

“Good omega,” he cooed. “Gonna cum already, huh? Tch, you shoulda said no one’s been taking care of you; I would’ve taken my parental responsibilities more seriously.” His lips and teeth landed on your neck, as you curled up into him, body tensing, heels digging into the mattress, panting and gasping getting louder and faster. The sound made his pants strain even more. 

“Fuck, you smell fucking good. Better than when I fucked you the first time.” 

“I-I forgot you talked so much in bed,” you managed out. “Could you just–shut up?”

Sukuna growled, and you whined. “You want me to shut up, huh? You wanna listen to your slick fucking hole getting spread open, plowed into? You miss me that much, omega?”

“No.” You hissed and clung to his upper arm as he somehow managed to take it up a notch, slipping his fourth finger in and spreading you obscenely wide. 

“I think you did. Think you were hopin’ I’d come around, plow you into the bed again, stuff you full like no one else can.” 

“Sukuna–”

“I’ll fill this hole up all you want, baby–I’ll even stuff another pup in you. Twins. You want that, huh? You gonna be my omega from now on? Creaming on my cock ‘n fingers the way you shoulda been the day you walked your perfect, little ass into my life?” 

“Shut up, shut up, shut up–” you choked on a gasp and bit into his shoulder, soaking his shirt with drool and shuddered mewls while your body tightened and ecstasy hit like the weight of Sukuna’s words–brutal, fast, honest. 

Sukuna moaned in sympathy, ignoring the way his hand and arm cramped and ached to keep pistoning into you and draw out your high. He couldn't help it–something about you drove him mad in that moment. It could have been how you made his ego swell, it might've been the way his greed needed your slick staining his and only his skin, perhaps it could have been a quiet yearning coming from his lonely, hollow alpha. He didn't know. But he didn't question it. 

Your body started to relax with the death grip you had on his shoulder as you came down from the sudden, electric high. Your hips still jolted with every slow, lazy push into your soft hole, though a haze of purring and cooing filled the spot where gasps and moans once did. Eventually, you melted off of him and collapsed onto your back, looking as content as a cat lounging in the sun. 

“Oi, oi, you're not done yet, sweetheart.” But if you said you were done, he might've listened. Just that once. 

You hummed something as you looked up at him, eyes doey and so egregiously lovey-dovey. 

“That's a nice face. Make sure you save it just for me,” Sukuna gently commanded, and you laughed. 

“Demanding. I thought you didn't like used goods.” 

Sukuna scowled. “Shut up.” His free hand traced the stripes of stretched skin left in the wake of bearing his baby boy. “I like ‘em when they're used by me.”

“Does that really make them ‘used goods,’ then?” You murmured as if speaking logic too loud would break Sukuna's entranced obsession of you. 

But maybe, maybe, you had a point. 

“Guess I'll have to think on that.” His fingers slipped out of you and he gave you a wet slap on the ass to wake you up. Your subsequent squeak sure as hell woke Sukuna up. 

“Ow. Gross.” 

“I'm not finished with you, brat. Don't get too fuckin’ content, yeah?” He smirked when you glanced at his crotch expectantly. “You want me to fuck you?”

“Please.”

Sukuna sighed and settled between your legs as he futzed with his belt and button. “Could put up a bit of a fight.” 

“Too tired.” You yawned and stretched with a pleased sigh. “No will to argue.” 

The alpha leaned down to bite at your knee, and you pulled your legs together to avoid his chunky, rude fangs. You knew he'd delight in making you bleed or leaving dark bruises. He was the worst. 

“Still got a little fight left in ya,” Sukuna said with a grin. “Let's see how much more we can find, hm?”

[lina-lovebug]

USM characters dating an Avengers daughter

- you knew his about his not-so-subtle crush on your dad when you first met, and decided not to tell him

- you adore him but whose to say he won't just use you as an excuse to hang out with your philanthropist billionaire playboy dad?

- but you'd been dating awhile, and had met Aunt May (who adored you), so why were you avoiding the subject of your dad?

- that was until you were fixing your suit and Peter walked in, gave you a kiss and offered to help. You forgot the little engraving your dad left you on your suit, "be careful and kick ass, love dad"

- "aw, that's sweet," he smiled, "when can I meet him?"

- "you. . .already have," you said, trying to gage his reaction, "he made me my first suit. . .and yours"

- it took him a few seconds but then it all clicked. His super amazing genius girlfriend whose dad bought her a Porsche at fifteen was Tony Stark

- his idol

- "I'm sorry I didn't say anything sooner, but you idolize him and I was scared and-"

- he understood - completely shocked but understood

- he does ask if that means he can drive the Porsche now tho

- you and your mom? Best friends

- danny and your mom? Not so much

- being the daughter of Black Widow herself came with a lot of trust, and many secrets so you never intended on dating because of it

- but then this handsome motherfucker gentleman comes along and you're on cloud nine

- you told him you have a complicated past and he respected that, waiting until you were ready

- but he's Iron Fist, King of K'un L'un and an Agent of SHIELD so he took notice when you'd disappear from team sessions

- he admits he got curious and followed one day, and there you were: training with Black Widow herself, and doing it flawlessly

- and at the end of it, his suspicions were confirmed once you hugged and said, "thanks, mom"

- "So are you gonna introduce us or does he always do that?" She made DIRECT eye contact with him and it honestly sent a shiver down his spine

- he introduced himself, remaining calm and collected, which impressed her but she also knows that people can hide how they rlly feel

- she GRILLED HIM

- "where'd you grow up?" "K'un L'un" "who are your parents?" "Heather and Wendell Rand" "if you're a billionaire, why do you wear five dollar flip flops?"

- you knew she approved of him, but she liked to keep him on his toes

- "beloved, I love you, but your mother scares me"

- oh how does one BEGIN to explain to their bullet proof boyfriend that their dad is Thor?

- he knew you had to be other worldly, and not just because he thinks you're a Goddess you accidentally struck him with lightning one time

- you wanted to keep it a secret for a bit before the Almighty Thor comes in and demands to know Luke's intentions

- "babe, why is Thor asking me when I'm proposing?"

- being a God came with perks, so Thor knew not long after you guys started dating that something was amiss with his daughter

- (you stopped remembering to being him poptarts and he got upset)

- "how do I know if he is worthy of your hand?"

- "He makes me laugh :) and he's bulletproof so. . ."

- they get along great

- his first trip to Asgard was a bit intimidating but seeing as you're half human, your mom reminded him that love between you guys was possible

- "I recommend a traditional Asgardian ceremony-"

- "dad we're sixteen"

- o h b o i

- talk about overprotective father

- you're a minute late, who were you with? What were you doing? I want their names, addresses, social security-

- if you guessed Winter Soldier a.k.a Bucky then you guessed right

- he knew something was up the moment you two lingered for a bit after training, and watching from the top deck this man SPOTTED your hands brush and asked Fury for Novas' personal file

- but knowing your dad, you were actually able to keep your relationship a secret for two months before he put the pieces together himself

- you both were out on a picnic date, Sam having made a cute cake, and a very threatening man with a metal arm came up sat down, smiled at him, held his hand out and said, "Samuel Alexander, sixteen, last Nova, grew up in Carefree, and 5'8, correct?"

- you were LIVID

- meanwhile Sam was like "omg he knows my name :0!!"

- you had told Sam long before dating that your dad was extremely overprotective, but Sam being Sam was just excited that his badass girlfriend has a badass dad!!

- and Buckys like "wtf this kid isn't even remotely terrified"

- Sam asks question after question, and it even turns into a third wheel - as in they're bonding and you're just there

- Bucky likes him but still tries to be somewhat intimidating, being the infamous Winter Soldier and all

- "Babe. . .baabe. . .when's your dad gonna be back? I wanna ask him if he likes my new helmet look"

- so like where do I even start

- you and Ava had been dating for a couple of months before she started to realize that she hadn't met your family

- you told her that they were just really intense and you didn't wanna scare her

- but who could scare White Tiger? So she insisted and you said "your funeral"

- also how does one explain to their partner that they technically shouldn't exist because your dad is a robot and your mom is a witch?

- your brothers LOVE her

- Billy and Tommy immediately recognized Ava, seeing as they'd work with the team from time to time and said "ooh our sisters dating the smart one"

- and Ava like, "babe I think I kicked one of their asses in training"

- Wanda adores Ava, she thinks she's good for you and might as well have someone mentally stable in your life

- Meanwhile in Avas' mind, "omg omg her mom is Scarlet Witch, her dad is Vision - wait is that why she's so smart? Is my girlfriend a robot?"

- no you're not a robot

- Vision likes her, and he knew about you two before you two even started dating. Why? You rambled about White Tiger during dinner once and Vision CLOCKED that look in your eyes

- needless to say, Sunday dinners with your family are now mandatory with Ava

[fleet-off]

Headcanons regarding Pete and macau's relationship? Like their dynamics?

Ooohh, thank you for this question, anon! As it happens I have a whole essay of thoughts on Pete and Macau’s relationship, and I am currently going insane about it in an in-progress chapter of Menagerie. Have a free mini-snippet?

Pete hums. “Yeah, I figured your hia picked it up somewhere. He’s not half the original he thinks he is.” With a sideways glance, he adds, “You used to throw rocks at Khun Noo’s koi, too.” Macau’s ears heat up like he’s been caught with the pebbles in his hand. He whirls to face Pete. “I wasn’t mad, I was just,” he starts to protest, scrambling for the edges of the sneering mask that’ll let him pretend it doesn’t matter— Pete raises his eyebrows. He knows. “It’s easy to get vindictive when you’re angry about things you can’t control,” he offers. Pete is like that sometimes, under the feigned clumsiness and foolish-eyed smiles. He knows exactly what to say to make Macau feel uncomfortably understood. It’s fucking ruthless. Macau doesn’t know if he’ll ever quite be used to it.

Whoops, kiddo got perceived.

See, Macau has a lot of Vegas in him, and Macau is the reason Vegas has any capacity for tenderness. And Pete is very aware of this—Pete is the one who twice lists Macau as reason for Vegas to live. (side thought but. the parallel between Vegas and Porsche there, with Porsche having this directive from his mother to survive until Chay gets through college? and that not ultimately being enough to live for? simply fillet me okay I’m—)

Anyway. Pete knows he’s signing up for some Macau too, and that means signing up for the brat who likes to throw rocks and jumpscare poor unsuspecting spies. And Pete knows well that said brat is a teen with the family inferiority complex, that he is widely disregarded and ignored (in need of love), and that his world revolves around the only person in this world who has loved him and made him feel a part of things. And that person is—for the first month—lying comatose between them in a hospital bed.

Pete’s world revolves around the same broken-aching-tender point. And this is the part Macau knows even if he doesn’t know why, so for the first month? That’s where their dynamic lives.

And then Vegas is awake, and there’s a potential for happiness in him that simply was not there before, and it’s Pete. Pete can make Vegas better. That means it’s Macau’s job to help make sure Pete stays. And isn’t it fascinating that Macau goes straight for “in-law”? Straight for “family,” because in Macau and Vegas’s world family is the ultimate binding. Macau says in-law and means you’re part of us now. For better or for worse. For good.

(There is—not jealousy, but a niggling sense of personal insufficiency underneath. Macau’s world does revolve around Vegas. However miserable life gets, Macau has his big brother and that is enough to keep him living and pushing forward.

Macau isn’t enough to keep Vegas on this earth.

Which is. Fine. Nothing new. Macau’s never been enough, why would the most important person in his world be any different? He can help keep Vegas’s world here, and maybe that’ll count for something.)

I think it takes Macau several months to realize that Pete isn’t a silver bullet for his brother’s mental health and happiness.

Pete’s just a dude. He likes video games where he gets to play a secret agent. He and Vegas argue loud and make up louder. Dropping dishes makes him jumpy. He sweats and laughs a lot when he’s drunk, and swallows disgusting herbal concoctions the next morning to deal with the hangover. When he notices Macau’s expectations for him and Vegas, he either smiles too wide or goes very quiet and still and Macau’s not sure which is worse. Sometimes he forgets to lock the bathroom door. Sometimes Macau dozes off on his shoulder during movie night and he doesn’t move until Macau stirs awake.

Sometimes he fucks up, the way people do.

And Macau realizes: maybe the only person who can keep someone on this earth is the person themselves. And maybe Vegas sometimes needs his brother, the one who made his crooked arms a cradle. And maybe Pete and Macau sometimes need each other too, because their world is hard and there are struggles only the two of them know—as if by dull fluorescent light, as if by the steady-prayer beat of a heart monitor. And definitely, always, the three of them need each other.

[lu-sn]

ok i have been sufficiently encouraged (thank you @ameliarating ❤️)

i have many many Thoughts about how pete was treated at the main compound after returning from his imprisonment, and i tried to cram as many of them as possible into splinter, but i left out a lot of the surrounding events because they didn't quite fit. so here is my dvd commentary, which is a fancy way of saying "an avalanche of depressing headcanons" 😂

if you didn't read it, warning that this probably won't make much sense — but the premise of the fic is that chan interrogates pete about his imprisonment, and it does not go well for pete.

cw: mentions of sexual assault. and a general warning for: this got away from me, as usual, it's too many words, oops 😅

the medical examination

porsche has just started to daub at the deeper scars on pete's chest when they hear a stern knock on their door. it's not chan, but it is a guard sent by chan, and they order pete to report to the medical bay for examination and treatment.

chan is furious on so many levels. a lot of them have to do with kinn, and how incompetently kinn handled this entire pete mission, and how little kinn told chan about what happened. unfortunately he can't actually chew out kinn — but now that pete is back, he's going to go directly over kinn's head and treat pete exactly as protocol demands. and that means getting a full debrief from him, but it also means treating pete as a suspicious agent. if a man disappears like that without reporting back, it's a huge red flag.

all of that to say: chan doesn't trust pete to tell the truth, even though pete probably has an extensive history of being honest. so it would be prudent of chan to back pete into a corner. he needs to have solid evidence that pete will not be able to lie his way around

hence, the medical examination. pete's body cannot lie.

as soon as pete is given the order, a pit opens up in his stomach. this is the moment that he starts to realize, through his haze of shock, that he is not going to be able to keep his imprisonment a secret.

so he goes down, porsche trailing helplessly after him, and subjects himself to the examiner. and it's cruelly invasive. to have obtained the list of conditions that chan reads off later, it must have been.

pete has been through this kind of exam before. all the bodyguards have. it is a semi-regular occurrence. the main family needs to verify the quality of their assets.

but pete is currently all sorts of wires-crossed about being touched, and about being looked at. to have been seen by vegas as someone precious and real, and then to give all of that up — only to have a stone-cold examiner put their hands all over him, to treat him as the object he is? oh my god. i can't even think about it. it hurts, and not in a good way.

porsche is waiting outside the exam room, and he knows exactly what they're doing to pete (after all, he's been through it too). and porsche feels so fucking guilty, can barely breathe for how terrible he feels, how much he is hurting for pete. and that's when chan shows up.

"what are you doing here," porsche asks dumbly.

chan doesn't say. but porsche gets a bad feeling about this, pushes at chan until chan finally says that he's here to take pete away for a debriefing, after pete is done with his exam

and pete will never know this — but porsche thinks about pete in that bathroom, unable to speak, face crumpled in pain. and with no hesitation, porsche goes to bat for pete. "wait until tomorrow," he tells chan. "he needs to rest."

of course, chan is here precisely because he wants to interrogate pete while pete is at his weakest. but porsche has power now. he's kinn's lover. he cannot be so easily disobeyed — and so chan relents. (he'll get pete early tomorrow, and it'll be fine. gives them more time for pete's blood work to come through, regardless.)

the interim

pete manages to get away from porsche for just long enough to cry into his noodles. and not to make this scene worse or anything, but pete trying to emulate vegas's touch on his skin right after going through the exam? trying to erase the memory of latex prodding unforgivingly at him, reminding himself that he was once touched as something to be revered? (that he might never have that again?) ahahahahaha. 🔪

when he gets back to their room, porsche warns him that chan wants a debrief. and a slow panic starts building inside of pete.

he doesn't sleep that night. he probably wouldn't have, anyway, but now it's much more dire. he needs to plan. he needs to figure out what he can and can't tell chan. he needs to come to terms with the fact that he's about to lie to his employer. (he doesn't.) he steels himself to talk about the most emotionally and physically taxing period of his life. (he fails.)

(does it sink in, during that night, that pete is in terrible danger? i don't know. he's probably not thinking about it like that. doesn't change the fact that he is.)

and so when he's summoned, early enough that the sun has yet to rise, he's running on zero sleep and his nerves are shot to hell. and that's exactly where chan wants him.

the interrogation

(i almost wrote it from chan's pov, because that could have had a bunch of cool insight about how chan is manipulating pete throughout the interrogation. but then i would have missed out on all of the cronchy pete thoughts 🥺 no regrets.)

chan's goal throughout this is to get pete to a highly vulnerable state and keep him there. pete's already done half of the work for him, but chan picks up on the flinch pete can't suppress at the mention of sexual assault, and he plans to use that to his advantage later.

pete actually does pretty well for the first half! chan is simultaneously impressed and peeved. and he doesn't display this, but he does start to think that maybe pete wasn't up to anything suspicious.

but then they get to the safehouse, and oh god. pete is editing vegas out of the narrative as he goes, and he's speaking slower. his retellings are garbled and non-linear. he can't seem to consistently describe his torturer at all. it's a striking contrast to the first half of his story.

so chan lets him speak, makes note of all the holes in pete's story — and then hits him with the sexual assault ask. and it works, it works so fucking well, pete's emotions immediately fly off the rails.

and then he pushes, just on one part of pete's story — and pete crumbles.

pete didn't explicitly confess to anything the entire time, and that's worth something. but it's not enough. chan is fully convinced that pete is lying about something — but it's not like he's going to tell pete that to his face. he needs to debrief with korn first before taking any action, and in the meantime he doesn't want to alert pete of his suspicions.

so he de-escalates. he tells pete it's ok to make mistakes (lie), and he makes it seem as if pete has successfully completed the debrief (lie). this works, too. the relief on pete's face is stark.

(side note: the de-escalation was inspired by that chanbig scene in ep6 where chan tells big to calm down and that kinn will be alright. i know it's the scene that launched a thousand ships 😂 but i don't think it's meant as a kindness. it's what big needs to hear in order to snap back into being useful for the family.)

overall: the whole time i was writing this, i was thinking about the concept of second rape, which is a term used to describe the grueling lineup of police interrogations and medical examinations and court proceedings that a sexual assault survivor will go through if they choose to report. the thorough dissection of the survivor's trauma and the derision their story tends to receive can feel akin to the original assault. depending on your interpretation of canon events, pete doesn't literally fall into this category — but metaphorically, this is what he's experiencing.

(somebody hug pete please 😭 vegas WHERE ARE YOU!!!! GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE YOUR HUSBAND NEEDS YOU)

the aftermath

shower scene my beloved 🫠 i originally tried to write pete having depressing shower thoughts about his own agency and privacy being stolen away. it just didn't sound right, even when i started over a few times. and then i changed the focus from pete's pain to vegas's, and it just all clicked.

can't quite articulate this — but pete, in that moment, is totally incapable of processing what has been done to him. but he knows what happened was wrong, somehow, and the way that manifests is via thoughts about how vegas has been wronged. (he wants to burn the record of vegas's story? oh, pete. it's your story first.)

chan and korn!!! and the crowd boos. i headcanon that chan and korn actually come to odds quite a bit on this topic. chan's job is to eliminate threats to the family. killing pete is the cleanest option!

(and secretly, it might be a kinder option to pete compared to what korn wants to do with him — not that chan is necessarily thinking about it like that.)

meanwhile, korn wants to keep him around, because he loves seeing all his little chess pieces make messes of themselves. chan hates this so much. he feels that korn is inviting trouble, and one day it will backfire tremendously. he never once says this. he always cedes to korn.

(another aside — damn, i can't shut up today — chan and pete are kind of similar, no? in terms of their unwavering loyalty? chan must have been someone, and had thoughts and feelings, when he was younger. who's to say he wasn't like pete? and when pete is chan's age, he would be a viable candidate for chan's position. he just needs the sympathy to be beaten out of him first.)

and a coda, as a treat for making it this far:

after the coup, korn hunts down the file with chan's report about pete, and he reads it with fresh eyes. and it's so obvious, in hindsight, that pete was trapped with vegas the whole time. korn now has a detailed record of everything vegas ever did to pete in his darkest hour. and korn would not be who he is, if he did not immediately start conceiving of ways to use that information for his own advantage.

[the-firebird69]

This concept he says takes some imagination you need to put yourself into the shoes of someone who has one of these cars and wants to make it into a different one I'm having trouble with it cuz I can get a car I want

Mac daddy

It's like the guy who has not a snazzy but it's a decent four-door sedan so he's dreaming it's Christmas the next day and he'll have the Porsche 4-door car which does not look like a regular car and within like that we can actually create a hull or a shell and people might want this this isn't and they said that they do and you put the Porsche body on it and tires and rims and interior and your your dad wakes up with your father wakes up and goes down and is looking outside for the paper or something and he sees his little boy out front staring at a big but looks like a wrapped car in paper so he says no way I got a car and they said oh we better go see so they're all going around the car and say there it is so he pulls it off and he is a static and his face and he has almost tears and he says how did you pay for it he said I have my money and it wasn't that expensive and he wants to know where and who and he's saying this is ridiculous opens the door and tells what model it is what kind of motor how fast it goes and his kids are sitting there watching him and their mouths are open there's a two guys two kids are 10 and 8 and the girl who is 7 and she's shorter and really they're staring at him their mouths are open and he's going over the technical stuff and it's coming out and he's pushing and putting his hand lightly allowing the lines of the car the whole thing over and over and so he comes back to the wife and he's sweating a little and he says okay how are going to pay for insurance and he says the stock model and let's just lifting off the insurance amount and this is what people are like by the way everybody of ours we're talking about our people too this is a dream because we can't have a Porsche but we can have a Chevrolada and people should get that but so the girls come up and ask them what do we need a car to go so fast he says if you need to get away from people and she says like secret agents so they're running around the car yelling it and he comes up and has a serious conversation with wife and she says it I couldn't give up the other car this one would have been too much it says well that's okay looks down and he feels real bad and looks up and says Merry Christmas anyways and she says here's the insurance a month since what are you talking about who's is it and it's only like I don't know how much and he's reading it and he says $100 and it says Porsche 2023 or whatever the one designed before this one and so it says 2022 it's a 2022 or whatever they call that four-door and list what it has and then he's reading it says I don't understand it you're saying it's not mine it's yours your car it's your car and it says then how is it so cheap he says it's also a Porsche and he says knock it off and she says it's a Porsche and I had someone turn your car into a Porsche he says what about the motor in a panic and he knows where it is and he's trying to open it and she says you know how to open it it was right and opens it up and looks and it's a Porsche motor at least it's a replica and they're like 12 cylinder for a car and you put the Porsche headers and stuff and valve covers and he's saying what did you do and he can kind of see inside the engine compartment it looks just like his Chevy Malibu and he's smiling and saying who did this and she says you're the one who introduced me to this company down the street he said that right there is a winner everybody should have one this is a free country.

So in the end a have the portion in the background in the whole family's together and they say merry Christmas everybody and it has all terrain tires the guy says...

Those commercial would only take like 8 minutes or someone said 6 minutes for something like that cuz you're a flipping from scene to scene.

That was our son and our daughter and the capturing kind of what it's like the men are fanatical about it and the women love it but they don't say it. And they're running around the car screaming with secret agents kind of shows it. I've seen this a lot of times and it's heart wrenching because I know what's going in the area and what happens sometimes and yeah of course retracts attention Porsche attracts attention but these cars wouldn't it be everywhere and you can do them up real nice but I will say this is a great idea for a commercial for one of our kit cars for a Porsche and we're looking for actress and actresses and people to fund making this Porsche because a regular sedan with a 350 and you put a new body on you keep the engine and you have a details kit that goes with it it makes it so much faster and investors too and we need a factories in the perimeter it would go originally a sedan Chevy Malibu about 180 but we put the Porsche kid on it goes about 280 mph they're very very fast and you have new tires rims suspension and the engine has a top end and the exhaust it stays where it is and most of the wiring you leave in place but it would be a full kit for all the panels and it would look almost exactly like one mostly though it would have your stock car color which is amazingly cool when you when you start thinking about it we can all you can also paint it in the spray paint you can buy anywhere and it needs a bunch of coats and a bunch of gel you can buy that too hey did you just tape it all off it's not that hard so what we're saying is this is the idea of of his except the Porsche attracts too much attention and the idea is to have a snazzy attractive sports car and it's a dream to have something that handles nice and rides nice and looks great and to be able to have it with the force you can't necessarily have it it's a small niche where's the market for this car is gigantic

Thor Freya

It captures the moment okay because they would do the same thing if you took the Malibu and you put the wide body kit and I know what they're saying the wide body can't you put in a panels and the rounded and shaped in there the tire is like zero tolerant and it's good news and it would still look like a Malibu but a super Malibu but you could fit in with it and that's what the saying but not a Malibu that's it would be their brand it's an awesome idea I might invest and start a factory and have it so you come and watch yours being assembled and he says we would start with chassis that are already built and that's wonderful right there so I get the idea too you can change it up from the beginning they have certain chassis and brands and they're very similar so they use a different mold but it looks like the same thing all over the world the vehicle would look the same a Chevy to a Ford to a Dodge it would all kind of resemble it very closely was in a half inch mostly and it's true it's exacting I don't have any time to tell you how wonderful this is so he says that we should start with some kind of prominent car like his son said if it is his son that's what we say and that's the Dodge neon or something as cars like that and there's a Jillian of them and you make a kit to go to a like a rally sport and then a super sport sedan and then you make one to go to a sports car two-door that's super car and a hypercar all the same car and the kids would change as you go up the once you go from a sports car four-door which becomes a two-door and at that change it would be a mid-engine change too or you can wait which makes more sense and to do that change later and you do the change at the supercar but everything in the kit would always be the same from chassis to chassis it would have their brand like the Bradley GT did it's kind of a poor example so damned old but they have some kids like the saline they're different models and the different chassis but everything on the inside was always the same meaning you can order different styling but it's always like the saline kit car it was never anything outside of it she establishing what it is and that it is a special car but all that stuff is inexpensive and it's all done on purpose and he says in the he wants to partner with me somehow and he knows how to do this he's done it a few times you make it really inexpensive and possible to do but you have to make it work and Dave's car weren't and his car the Vader is one of the most successful kit cars in history they say it too this car has become more famous than any car almost that's been on the road and right now and they're making them and really is for higher-ups people can't get these things this is a car that a captain is having trouble getting and their friend here says this is a decent business and we know who makes it it's not us

I'm told that they're not really making them anymore and they have too many requests so it's a company we can take over and the headquarters is in North Carolina which is not bad and we can make fast cars out of sedans like the Kia the one Lori had it's white stinger that's the one and it's really fast okay that's a fast car and I want to do it he says I'm assuming I'm a shoe in and now we're getting a call from Stan and he says he wants to do it but I know I can make a ton of these and I'm ready to do that and there's some modifications I'd make our friend came up with a few ideas and me too and to make a few bodies he says you go to a different plant you don't make it a different kit car in the same plant and that makes sense then he said that that size car and it's not really huge but it's not small would fit the Ford mustang and it would fit the Chevy Camaro those cars are dogs and they actually need to make these right now for reasons that are tertiary it's a great idea and I might be able to get Trump to make a deal or allow us to and he says oh and have your money it's like Brewster's millions and it's laughing and he says I get that so he'd be the Brewer but then he starts trailing off and it doesn't really get it the foreigners would get it makes Shaquille O'Neal when it right for it so he laughs and says oh I see it's our f e m and that's right so you don't have to take it over but we'd like to make them he says this is wonderful but it doesn't believe it but it's a good idea and his guys will probably buy them which is fine it's motivational and we probably allow it because the max would be interested in those now he says I don't give a damn but we'd be fighting over it and we are anyways this is I can't make a deal with you to make them and my grand nephew says why not you're suck usually faster and easier to build and you guys could probably actually put them together and now he's laughing and saying that's true but he hasn't done that kind of thing with us on purpose so it's going to suck again so he says we can make them and the company is not is the people that stuff their dick up your ass and said you're a piece of grass and have your people in the wall and I want to get them made and what better way to do it than people that they are having you fight because or with us we have a secret you think you can come and take it I don't think so and that would provoke your interest which is now flat like soda that's been shaken up so he's going to think about it I think it's a great idea this is a great car it's a terrific idea and it has its own look and the Polaris still sucks and still go slow and we can still use that and we can make a woman's car and that's what we could do we can start with the woman's car and it'll Force protect and that would be the conversion from the Polaris it's very fast and safe you're in an actual cage versus these cars which are just made out of metal this you're really not protected by anything except a thin layer of metal and a thin layer of metal which is partial it's really crap there's nothing to them

We're going to go ahead and start one of these I'm tired of listening this guy just never doing anything only causing problems and trouble and headaches

Mac daddy

We going to see how the war goes before we do anything and he says go screw and I'm sick of it let's hear from my people

Trump

Yeah we don't want to hear that anymore we're tired of him doing it we're tired of him doing it for the empire it was sick of his s*** and he's a slime ball a low life and he wants to win because he's doing nothing and things people are afraid to fight and he's not doing anything and he's a huge chicken s*** and we need him out of the way this is one way to do it and I don't think that the pseudo empire can put the bill on it I do know that if we start making them he'd be up there at the plant what you say is who cares it's Darth Vader and we get that too but we have our version this is okay I do too and it's us and it is it says so let's have a Darth Vader meeting what are they really anyways the generals and that's what they are and different levels so we're going to have a Vader meeting and with the kit car people and I wouldn't prove until the car and certain models that have pep power that is because it's going to be for upper echelon and plans to make a full car and people from the kit car company can transfer over into a permit car if they like that car and we like your idea and we're going to go ahead and call them up you have a bunch of them and we'll see if they're interested and they say of course and they know what it means that's right no shore leave. And it makes sense but really we're going to go forth with it

Thor Freya

Yeah I might do that head them off the pass perhaps but really we're busy building stuff I get what he's saying we can build the fly car version we need those and it's a better idea but tracks a lot of attention and maybe that's why they're not making it this other idea won't attract that much so he's going to ask them to think about it really if you attract attention right away and you can't go anywhere it's no good in Shaquille O'Neal says he can't drive his down the street and switch the time right now okay so that would have been good to know

Mac daddy it says it's back to his idea and starting with cars we can do that with and to put them on a chassis and even the the two cars from Australia and to modify from there it's already got it like it's a sign together it's like an Audi you look for something and I get that and then it would be gravitated up we're going to go ahead and try and put something together and the really small ones you can use he says a mini the fits are too small and it's true

We like this idea we're going to go talk about the Vader because people still drive them around and we're not afraid of it and they're not either and they'll say that it's us and they'll try to attack people and will lead them off quickly

Thor Freya

We need this kind of thing and I'm a Vader and I'm going to do it

Frank Castle hardcastle me too I want my little Vader the original Polaris it might just start making them they're ordering tons and he wants us to do that I have a meeting with the other vaders and then set it up with Thor and Freya first and then get permission and we're taking over factories you know where it is it's in the upper Midwest it's like a month away and it really is and we really shouldn't bring it down there and it says we should I don't know what you think about Trump I started get something we're going to have to do that we need to build actual defenses and the max would stop them and they want the car

Hardcastle

I got to get in there and do this I'm looking forward to this fun we're going to have eventually I don't know when two years from now it's not happening yet

Hera

I was taking a damn long time I'll tell you that much

Mac daddy

Olympus

We do want this car we think it's a great idea for them to make it they'll make it better and faster and use cars that actually go fast the last car was ridiculous even though it went fast and I'm going 200 mph it's like 20 miles an hour faster it's so stupid

Macs we bought a lot of them anyways cuz it's his design now we see what's going to happen these things are going to be fast and they'll handle and they look like fly cars so what kind of going to try and help it along and we'll be in the plant

Haha he says he's standing next to him and he has his hands on a panel and you smelling it his hands making a Mr Bean look good Lord is awful to them thankfully

Olympus

Anyways we're going to have a good time with this one

Hera

[gravity-knight]

In the midst of there possibly being a mole in the agency

Porsche and Pete decide to sneak around a building full of agents into their boss’ bedroom to find his secret phone

With no thought to how that could look

And they do it so badly

😂

[dertaglichedan]

Secret Global Phone Biden Used As Vice President Could Reveal ‘Tight’ Communications With Foreign Nationals: Report

Then-Vice President Joe Biden allegedly used a secret global cell phone paid for by Hunter Biden’s business, according to Government Accountability Institute president Peter Schweizer.

Schweizer, who has documented the Biden family’s alleged multiple financiers directly tied to Chinese Communist Party intelligence officials with Hunter during and after the Obama Administration, told Fox News on Sunday that the non-profit organization discovered the private phone line from Hunter’s infamous laptop.

“And that may be the phone, for example, that the Ukrainian Burisma executive might have used in this allegation that he talked to Joe Biden in recorded conversations,” he said.

According to Schweizer, the global phone was serviced through American multinational telecommunications company AT&T for $300 a month that could “access somebody anywhere around the world.”

Schweizer said he shared the phone number and account information with the House Committee on Oversight and Reform, hoping lawmakers would subpoena internal records on the account.

“I think it will give an indication on how tight the communication was,” he said.

Schweizer’s update on the latest developments in the Hunter Biden investigation comes days after House Ways and Means Committee chairman Jason Smith (R-MO) released a WhatsApp message obtained by IRS investigators looking into Hunter’s overseas business dealings.

Smith released whistleblower testimonies on Thursday from IRS agents who allege that the Justice Department has interfered in the investigation into Hunter and is suppressing evidence of the first son’s misdeeds.

In part of the testimony from IRS Criminal Supervisory Special Agent Gary Shapley, the IRS agent claimed that investigators uncovered a July 30, 2017, WhatsApp message that Hunter sent to Henry Zhao, CEO of Harvest Fund Management.

“I am sitting here with my father, and we would like to understand why the commitment made has not been fulfilled,” Hunter wrote to Zhao, according to Shapley’s testimony. “Tell the director that I would like to resolve this now before it gets out of hand, and now means tonight.”

Smith told Fox News on Friday that between 2014 and 2019, the Biden family allegedly took more than $17 million through Hunter Biden and his associates from foreign nationals. He said that roughly $8.3 million Hunter received came as items and gifts — for example, an $80,000 Diamond and a Porsche worth $142,000 — from countries such as China, Ukraine, and Romania.

“It is absolutely unconscionable,” Smith said.

[angievores]

Is it only me who thinks pete is some former secret agent (probably an international spy) or contract killer. But he was a sharpshooter, and an international one. His room has posters of only two things 1) every kind of guns and shooting targets 2) some sort of information(either books or papers)

His childhood dream is playing superhero,I connected it with helping others but another reason why children likes superhero- "justified killings"

Look at all posters at study table,white wall, it's guns, also behind Porsche in 2pic. In pic 3 his side has only shooting targets. There are at least 10 such posters in whole room.

It's not in pic but at the exit of bathroom many books

plus the teaser has also two things guns and information. (Actually every kind of gun, he is professional shooter) and world map (international shooter and his room has names of famous crime cities used in media)

Even at his bed there's shooting target poster.

Did I realize it very late?

Will someone analyze his room??

He is giving me anxiety, what if number of guns represent number of killings. Vegas torcher was probably child's play for him

[tobeornottotc]

Now that Porche verbally announced he's in love with his asshole. Do you think Vegas will try hard to get back at him? I'm excited abt how these two will interact in the future after this incident. How his perspective abt vegas would change?

Also Kinn being a double agent and faking his ex's death but also bringing him back as emo support in the same building that the bodyguards stay........ couldn't they recognise him easily? Or are they collectively ignoring that and keeping it a secret from korn.

Also Pete best boi 💕🌄

Hi!

I think there's 3 things Porsche still needs to know about Vegas that's building up.

1: That he's the reason for episode 4, he was the one targeting him and almost assaulted him, the reason for his trauma

2. That he's been sent to keep an eye on him by his father and what that reason is

3. That he is involved heavily in Kinn's past and relationships failing

And he still doesn't know about any of these, we could say he was starting to test Vegas on number 3 because he was faking being fully drunk and seeing how he reacted. Also he shows knowing discomfort each time Vegas hits on him but the way he interacts with Vegas still has a lot of layers to be exposed and all of these three things including Vegas new founding relationship with his best friend later, will be a lot to process. Porsche will get to one day uncover Vegas, he will get to have that conversation with him. that painful heart-breaking conversation with him if the show still makes Vegas fully believe Porsche is first love, but ye[ there'll be layers. We can see they work well as a team in this episode which I think could be important later for number 2, the way Vegas plays a role in a lot of Porsche's realisations and truth in the book is really interesting and important. So I'm waiting for Porsche to get through the three realisations he needs, to, 1 he's going to be mad and betrayed and scared, 2, he was being to mad, and scared again and completely heartbroken, and 3. he is going to be mad, and determined to go get his man back and also deal with the source of these issues, and expose the mole along the way. Vegas is meant to play a role in all of that, so their relationship through out the series will be interesting from friendship, to hate and disgust to forgiveness and understanding kind of? It's complicated but everything is this show is complicated. So yeah.

Not sure about their other question, I think it's clear to me that Tawan was a mole and Kinn was rightfully manipulated into thinking he has trust issues or Vegas changed the real storyline of what happened, Tawan is greedy, and power hungry and like a faen fatale seeks that from Kinn, so if exposed he probably did almost ruin the family by yielding to those impulses and hurting Kinn. So the only way for him out of the situation is to be kiled, so Kinn's reputation is saved. This so like Korn, and I think episode 6 hints to you how much Korn ensures Kinn is trapped with a great reputation of power and triumph so he's a useful king/weapon of the chess board, even if it hurts Kinn's feelings Korn is more focused on protecting his status and power. So Korn could have made it seem Kinn is scary and won at the end and defeated Tawan to everyone when it is clear Kinn doesn't want anyone to suffer from his weight, and probably either faked Tawan's death for him to be free, or Tawan manipulated Kinn into thinking he died because of him, either way Kinn believes loving people hurts them because of his trust issues, and mafia position. Tawan in the book is meant to be abroad, so Kinn could have just exiled him with the pretense that he hurt him and he's not a threat to the family, with Korn (who knows everything and is in control of everything) keeping it a secret and making him seem powerful and not to be messed with by others. Because to let someone as a mole come into his life and reveal family secrets is a big burden that Kinn probably had to keep being reminded by Korn not to do again, hence the whole you shouldn't let Porsche make you lose your purpose analogy he gave in episode 7. Korn lauds that over him, uses it and guilts him into staying trapped in his need to save his reputation, family and himself by being masked as cruel and strong. So yep I can see episode 6 foreshadowing how Kinn let Tawan go despite of himself but also how Porsche could also end up being manipulated and seen as Tawan's mirror to a tee, including being a mole for the family like Kim keeps trying to uncover. Lots of manipulation from Vegas who uses this to get revenge on Kinn and teach him a lesson for this episode (also probably stealing his most loyal bodyguard as a way of dealing with that shame) and Tawan who probably wants Kinn back like everyone else now that Kinn actually is showing signs of actually moving on, has heard the rumours from either the mole or Vegas himself and has returned to claim his place fully believing he's about to lose Kinn etc...

So yeah Porsche is going to be targeted, manipulated against, and hurt because of this.

Pete is best boi but he's also best boi with darkness, and he's also best boi that is pulled to Vegas. Now he needs to stop running away from that side of him and let it be free, so he can get the actual happiness and freedom he desperately will learn he seeks. Can't wait for baby to get to see Vegas without his mask.

Thanks anon! So much in the next 7 episodes to happen, and I am frothing at the mouth for all of it. Urgh I love this show so much

[surrealsunday]

Hi! Paperwork promises — I’m in love, can’t wait for the last chapter and happy ending! Buuut, I have a question, the fic is coming to the end and I know you’re writing a new one for elu (I’m waiting btw too, I’m a true fan of yours, haha). Sooo, the question is are you planning to write some more for kp fandom? I want more stories with Kinn and Porsche written by you!! 🙏

This is so incredibly nice to hear!!! I'm so glad you're loving Paperwork Promises 🥰. And the Elu story is getting to the end so hopefully I won't take too much longer on that.

I never quite know what my brain will glom onto but I have to admit I have been contemplating a La Femme Nikita inspired Kinnporsche Au. Like... Kinn and Porsche as rival secret agents 👀? Like tell me these looks don’t perfectly translate…

Kinn is sort of a double-agent because he came from the mafia before he turned, and in large part because of that, Porsche doesn't trust him. Porsche is a more by-the-books agent, but of course he doesn't respect authority or Kinn's seniority on missions 😌. But then the two of them are paired as married arms dealers (sneaking that fake relationship trope in there 😏) who have to go on mission together (that's where the Nikita inspo comes in)…

^^^ that was Nikita and Michael ON MISSION so yeah… 😏😏😏

Anyways... my brain was thinking delicious things about that one last night and we'll see if it decides I need to write that one!

But thank you truly so much for your encouragement! It means a lot 🥹❤️❤️❤️

[gelatomesomeironqrow]

My Honest review of Kinnporsche Ep 14 and of the series all together.

I highly enjoyed this series, would I say it lived up to the hype? No. It came close but it definitely got overhyped. Did I stop that from letting me enjoy the series? Also no. I'm the type of person who tries their best to let the work speak for itself and not be influenced by everyone else's reviews. So I hope you all can do the same. Enjoy the series for what it is. A gay mafia show. Literally, that is what Kinnporsche is. A mafia story about the heir to the main family and his bodyguard falling in love. The rest of it is either a bonus side story or a "why did they put this in here?" Side story. Not everyone is going to enjoy everything in a series. Will that stop me from watching the series again or recommending it to people who enjoy BL's? No. Because the side stories are there for people who would like that kind of thing. So please people. Just enjoy Kinnporsche and stop worrying about the series finale(?). The actors, film crew, set design, costume design did a phenomenal job and that alone should be applauded.

Moving on, my thoughts and opinions of episode 14.

Honestly, for a finale, it was pretty good. A couple of weird story decisions but hey, it is what it is.

So basically I've decided to take this episode with a grain of salt. I'm extremely happy that Kinn and Porsche get to live out their gay mafia dreams together (although neither of them wanted to be in the mafia at all (Kinn's dream was to be a singer, Porsche wanted to open a bar on the beach)) but they decided to change their dream so they could be together and I think that's beautiful.

Kinn saying that there is no more main family and minor family because they are going to become one. Like did the dude seriously propose in the mafiaest/corniest way possible using the mafia family rings?? Because I'm here for it. Porsche being all like "I'm on your side". They are married your honor. I rest my case.

The three brothers in one room at the same time and none of them know how to act brotherly towards one another. Seriously, Kim, I applaud your efforts to be compassionate. Kinn, you get a C- for trying. The awkward hand pat, I just can't. But everyone grieves in their own way.

Speaking of:

He wins the category of: he deserved better, Big being a close second (he lost points when he briefly tried to use homophobia to get Porsche away from Kinn).

More awards: the winner of most badass character:

Detective Kim who doubles as secret agent man by day, musician by night. God he is so pretty to look at and a force to be reckoned with when you come for Porchay.

Speaking of: Most oblivious character award goes to:

Seriously, Porchay, you didnt even know Kim was there? At all? Like the dude was sitting at the bar in the shadows like the secret agent he is but still. You need to gain some self awareness.

Also side note: I dont really ship these two characters together. They lead two very different lives. That being said, would I watch a series starring Porchay fumbling through life trying to be normal with secret agent man Kim trying and often times succeeding in keeping him safe without Porchay ever knowing he was there and just seeing the destruction and chaos Kim leaves behind? Yes. Yes I would.

Moving on: Kinn. Sweetheart. This is what I meant when I said, without Porsche, I fear for the people around Kinn.

The literal next thing this man does is shoot two of the main family's partners (with one bullet) for the suggestion of handing over his ring to his uncle. The man can become unhinged if Porsche is not in his life. So let's all hope to whatever higher being you all pray to, that nothing ever happens to Porsche. God, what was Kinn like before Porsche again? Oh yeah, he was just slightly unhinged but still holding himself together.

Going back to my little awards:

The couple I simultaneously didnt want together but also wanted together goes to: Vegas and Pete.

I love the characters on their own but together they are/were a hot mess.

Like Vegas is clearly a psychopath and while he was verbally and physically abused by his father. He still chose to make horrible decisions. However, the few times he made decisions for other people, ie, helping Porsche (for realsies this time), he was actually helpful and almost kind. The relationship between Vegas and Pete started off with torture and kidnapping. While the show tried to downplay that and turn their relationship into a consensual BDSM relationship. I still can't ignore the book. I havent read it but from what I've heard, it's clearly Stockholm syndrome. And even though they downplayed it. The signs are still there. So for that reason, I didn't want them to be together.

BUT.

Seeing this scene, they can really make this relationship work. They (being Pete and Vegas) can heal together and move past the events from before. Vegas can improve his mental state with Pete's help. Macau can help protect Pete if Vegas slips. I do however, also fear for anyone in Vegas' path if something were to happen to Pete. Because while Kinn might go unhinged, Vegas is already unhinged and will not hesitate to harm the people around him and that includes himself. So before VegasPete shippers jump down my throat. Please note. I do love these two characters and I have hope for their future therapy sessions. I just worry about how they started and how that will most likely effect them for a long time.

Now. For the grain of salt.

I love good story telling and I feel like the book will give me better insight to this particular story direction. But. And I mean this in a "love the series, you all did great sweeties" kind of way. But what the f*** was that?

This story line honestly lost me. I don't get why it was done the way it was done. I think it could have been explained a bit better and perhaps it's a lost in translation kind of thing but. First of all. Their mom is alive. I get that. What I dont get, is "oh she took a bunch of pills and now has amnesia because of it." Like. No. No that is not the reason. Taking pills can mess with you sure, but I've never heard of someone taking pills to off themselves, only having memory loss because of it. Anyways, that isn't my issue with the story. My issue is that throughout the entire series, we get no inclination that Uncle Gun here is obsessed with Porsche's mother. We get "oh by the way, I saw a picture of her on my dad's desk, lol" moment from Vegas, we get that he is abusive towards Vegas and possibly Macau. But never before the last episode do we get, obsessive sexual offender vibes from the man. Every time he is on the screen prior to episode 14, he is calm and composed (unless yelling at Vegas). In episode 14, they take his character and do a 180 degree flip and turn him into "nows my chance to get "revenge"/seize power from my brother"/"You're alive, sobs, I thought you were dead, sobs, come here, I'll protect you" character. So it's like they did a character rewrite/assassination on the guy. Speaking of, Kinn's dad. Seriously? You really think Porsche would have ran and told Gun where his mother was if you had just told him that his mother was alive and due to traumatic events I'm protecting her? No. The guy just wanted to know how his parents died. Why did you have to give him the run around? Why did you have to continue to give him the run around until he quite literally saw his mother alive. You didnt need to tell him that the man who hit his parents is alive and give him the address. You then didnt have to tell him she was dead when he confronted you. Seriously people. Communication is key. Also, for someone who wouldnt shoot his brother at the table, you certainly had no problem shooting him then.

Anyways, her memory loss is due to trauma and not wanting to remember, not the pills. I hope now that she has her children back, she can get her memory back.

So minus that confusing and pointless story direction, I do highly recommend this series to anyone who wants to see gay mafia members find love and ignore the bafflement of that story line. The series is available on IQIYI.

Gelato out.

[luthordamnvers]

Feeling the weight of the sun (Here we come, blue and green)

[The D.E.B.S AU]

Chapter 2: Everything Changes

As soon as Lena climbed onto the Porsche, Brainy started his rant, while driving away from the restaurant, way too fast to not be considered suspicious. “What a complete and utter disaster. I am so sorry, Lena. Leave it to the government, you are in town for half a week and they are all over you, just inserting them- “ He stopped talking when he noted that she wasn’t saying anything. “What?” Lena still kept quiet, commiting to memory the last 5 minutes. Felt like a lot more, for some reason.

“Seriously, what? Are you hurt?” He asked again, a look of concern on his face.

“No, I’m good.” She glanced at the window for a moment, before returning her gaze at Brainy. “So, this little outing wasn’t a complete disaster…” She commented with a little smile.

“Aha! I knew it!” He laughed, knocking on the wheel a few times. “The tattoos were a little much but, it was simple statistics, with your similar stor-”  “What? No, Brainy, no. Veronica was a complete bust.” She interrupted, giving him a scandalized look. “And honestly, it is a little disconcerting that you think that we have similar stories…”Brainy looked at her, dumbfounded, like she had asked him the secret of the universe or something.

“Then, who?”

Lena smiled, remembering the name tag, stitched into a bulletproof vest.

“What do you know of one K. Danvers?”

He kept driving in silence, for a few minutes.

“The guy from the smuggling team downtown?”

“No. Not a he.”

Brainy went quiet again, thinking of every fucking person in town, probably. Lena could literally pinpoint the moment he realized who she was talking about.

“K. Danvers. Blonde hair, around 5’7”, quite muscular. Something plaid and blue on her person?” He asked under his breath.

“Something like that, yeah.”

He stomped so hard on the breaks, that the car skidded over. Luckily there was no one around them, as they were going to the warehouse over little crowded streets.

“Sprock, Lena. She is a bloody DEO agent. She is part of the DEBS.” Somehow Lena was supposed to know what that last part was. It must have been clear on her face that she had no idea what it meant, because Brainy kept talking. “Unit Argo One of the DEO. They are an elite group, THE elite team, actually. They were the ones that arrested Lord, 5 months ago.”

“I mean, the piece of shit had it coming. They just got to him first.”

“She is their poster child, Lena.”

She rolled her eyes and got out of the car. Brainy followed suit.

Keep Reading this chapter on AO3. || Read from Chapter One.

[21secondsofchristoph]

Here is a full translation of the interview featured in Max Magazine.

Original text by Andreas Wrede

This was a lot of work so PLEASE don’t post this elsewhere without credit. 

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

This story with and about Christoph Waltz is a story coming full circle. A little more than 3 decades ago, a small group of editors and photojournalists, graphic artists and authors started developing the pilot for the first German issue of MAX, made possible by Dirk Manthey, the publisher from Hamburg’s Milchstraße, who knew the magazine from Italy, France and Greece. And who made me the founding-editor in chief. Three decades later, the derivative is released, thanks to publisher Max Iannucci. In 1990, Christoph Waltz was in an episode of “Der Alte”, among other things before he played the torn schlager music star Roy Black in “Du bist nicht allein – Die Roy Black Story” – but we will get to that later.

Now Christoph Waltz is an award-winning, internationally known actor, who won two Oscars for best supporting actor. That is unique for a German-speaking actor. Born in Vienna in 1956, he now lives in Los Angeles – if you want to play a role in Hollywood, literally, you must be present in Los Angeles. And during our conversation in a red, furry saloon of the legendary hotel Sacher in Vienna, he emphasizes, “Hollywood is always the goal”.  

The place is very fitting, considering Christoph Waltz grew up in Vienna, in a family that cultivated a great affinity for the work on stage for two generations. He says laconically, “You grow into a thing, you grow up with it, and thus, you acquire a familiarity early on, which you’d otherwise have to conquer with a lot more effort.” He often went to the movies from an early age on, but he spent even more time at the opera. “When I had time and had finished my homework, I enjoyed going to the opera.” Back then, a standing room ticket cost about ten Schilling, just a few cents in today’s currency. Little Christoph loved smuggling into the fascinating, secretive opera house.

Later he attended famous acting schools like the Max Reinhardt Seminar or Lee Strasberg’s Actors Studio with significantly less pleasure. “I didn’t like attending acting schools. They didn’t exactly broaden my horizon.” Christoph Waltz hardly found them inspiring. And when he received offers for movies and theater, he accepted them “instead of dealing and struggling with teachers”. He says this with few gestures and in an almost reporting tone, he has always trusted the energies inherent in him. He had his TV debut in “Der Einstand”, where he played a teenage delinquent. That was fitting, considering he continued playing roles which were different, unexpected, and specific, or roles he filled differently, unexpectedly, and specifically.

Christoph Waltz remembers his beginnings as an actor in the 70s a little wistfully. “There were still movies on TV, which were made as movies for television, as one dramatic entity.” Or when there used to be directors like the great Federico Fellini, who was “very, very specifically Italian in everything he did.” Christoph Waltz continues: “And because of this specificity he was able to reach so many people.” A phenomenon like Fellini is marked by obstinacy, nonconformity, and distinct individuality. However, some significant conditions also irritated Christoph Waltz, for instance, when he was hired for the Krzysztof-Zanussi-film “Leben für Leben” in 1991. “I wasn’t adequately informed about the conditions and backgrounds. And so, I found myself – surpsised – in front of a camera in Auschwitz.” How does one react to something like that? “Today, I would know how to react”, he stresses thoughtfully, “but today, that would be due to the self-confidence I acquired over the past years. Back then I felt: Now I’ve been hired for this film.” Alright, he adds, one grows through experience, some conflicts are worth going through. “It helps building character.”

Was the decision to play Roy Black a crystal clear one? Not at all, he responds smiling and closes his eyes for a second. “When my agent called me about it, my spontaneous reaction was: Complete humbug, and I can’t even listen to this music for three seconds.” It only became interesting for him when he learned that Roy Black originally wanted to play Rock ‘n’ Roll. Then he became interested in the tragedy of this character. And the thought that Roy Black’s wish was the desire for freedom and wildness, a wish many Germans shared, “which was inherent in the promising American machinery.” Although this freedom and wildness had always existed in Germany, lived out by people like Nietzsche, Schopenhauer, or Kandinsky.

“The film itself was great, but the marketing-weisenheimers managed to break this film. It would be a great cine film, but they advertised it as a sob story for television. Consequently, the real Roy-Black fans were disappointed, while the people who might have been interested in the movie judged: Leave me alone with this sob story twerp. Well, the weisenheimers are the weisenheimers, what can you do”, deems Christoph Waltz with a beautiful touch of Viennese sarcasm and barely noticeable risen eyebrows. One does not always have to instrumentalize the entire acting equipment with him. A few little cues are enough.

Many more films follow before someone calls from Hollywood and say he is supposed to participate in Tarantino’s Inglourious Basterds. In our interview he calls this his “Quentin-jump”, where he is at eye level with Diane Kruger, Brad Pitt and Michael Fassbender in front of the camera. “Tarantino, we mentioned this before, stands for specificity and authenticity, he has an eye for both.” Did Christoph Waltz go into this production with a lot of respect? “With great respect.” He remembers an encounter with Sylvester Groth in front of a theatre in Babelsberg. “Every Thursday, Quentin showed movies during preparation. Once, Sylvester and I stood in front of the theatre and we both said: Imagine this, now we’ve been doing this for so long and suddenly we find ourselves here.” Then we paused for a few moments and kept going: Yes, and despite everything, we’re doing what we’ve always done – what we do, because that is what we do.”

Before Tarantino’s office could call again, other international projects followed, like The Green Hornet (with Cameron Diaz, Tom Wilkinson, James Franco) or Carnage (with Jodie Foster, Kate Winslet, John C. Reilly). Then Django Unchained (with Jamie Foxx, Leonardo DiCaprio, Samuel L. Jackson). For his role in Django Unchained, Christoph Waltz wins his second Oscar for best supporting actor in 2013 and Quentin wins another one for best original screenplay. But Christoph Waltz remains humble: “The opportunities presented to someone for personal growth always come to you through other people.” Although the actor always makes a binary decision. “Yes or no. Am I going to do it or not.”

Can one also make the wrong decision? “You decide for one or the other and from that other possibilities develop, but neither is better or worse.” That was not any different for Quentin Tarantino or for his first film and its director Reinhard Schwabenitzky, who saw him in acting school. Christoph Waltz leans forward and says confidentially: “The essential chances and opportunities were those which were presented to me by another mind, by a great talent, through a vision, which came from another person.” Nothing more, nothing less.

Yes, humility is a virtue. But we do not want to conceal the fact that Christoph Waltz was the first German-speaking host on Saturday Night Live and that he received a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame (No. 2536, 6667 Hollywood Boulevard). The quote: “And Hollywood is always the goal.” Is correct, “like others say their goal is to get into heaven.” Hollywood, heaven: “I don’t mean to compare the two goals, but the setting of these goals. Especially Hollywood has been mythologized into more than it deserves credit for.” In this respect, as a myth, it is always the goal. Please don't tell anyone Christoph Waltz is over-the-top - the opposite is the case.

During our exchange in the Sacher, I mention one of my favorite books on film. It is Peter Biskind’s Easy Riders, Raging Bulls – How the Sex-Drugs-And-Rock’n’roll Generation saved Hollywood. It says: „There is no worse career move in Hollywood than dying. Hal Ashby is now largely forgotten, because he had the misfortune to die at the end of the 80’s, but he had the most remarkable run of any ’70 director. After ‚The Landlord‘, in 1970, he made ‚Harold and Maude‘, ‚The Last Detail‘, ‚Shampoo‘, ‚Bound for Glory‘, ‚Coming Home‘ and ‚Being there‘ in 1979, before his career disappeared into the dark tunnel of post-‘70’s, Me Decade Drugs and paranoia.“

It can be assumed that this won’t happen to Christoph Waltz? “That is a good example for the mythologizing I was referring to”, he responds. “I would claim that a legend like James Dean probably wouldn’t have developed at all, had he not driven himself to death in his Porsche at such a young age. Who knows what would have become of Marilyn Monroe, had she not put an early end to her complicated life.” And parallel to Hal Ashby, there probably were thousands of directors, who would have been happy to pay their next rent – by working in their profession. It is therefor about comparativeness.

Onto another career step, the James Bond movie Spectre, in which Christoph Waltz portrays the dark Blofeld, a character, who appeared in previous Bond movies. How do we have to imagine that? One sunny day the agent comes along and says: “You’re on the list for the next Bond movie”? Christoph Waltz knows there are no rules to this, especially when it is something like James Bond. A series that has been at the peak of possibilities for more than 50 years.” The producers have a lot to lose, they have to look very closely. Not only to keep up the standard, they also want to be ahead of their time.

Was it intriguing to play this bad boy a second time? Is it about an additional nuance of expertly irony; is it about the myth that is Bond? “This was another unique opportunity for me”, says Christoph Waltz, “a unique opportunity to include myself into such an incredibly successful series.”  Now after Spectre, for the second time in No Time To Die – a title that can offer a bit of comfort in times of the world wide covid pandemic. And Christoph Waltz is in the Bond movie that will be Daniel Craig’s final Bond. “It’s his fourth Bond movie”, he counts, “the actors change but the role remains the same. Of course, the role acquires a different profile and thus, different facets.” But it remains James Bond. “And when a new actor gets the role, he has to fit into the role, not the other way around.” Once again, we will have to wait for this Bond movie. It will probably hit theatres in spring 2021.

It reminds one of Shakespeare’s Troilus and Cressida – we’ve seen it a dozen times but keep going to see it again. Nowadays you go to see the production, in the past you went to see whosit faithless. Speaking of productions: Are the demands towards a Bond director more extensive compared to other film projects? “Surely there are more things to keep an eye on compared to a low budget movie or an independent film. In productions like that, you often have to use the tools you have. In Denmark they had demands referring to this “, Christoph Waltz comments in a slightly mocking undertone. He means the group around Lars von Trier? “Precisely, they called it Dogma for fun, and the world took them seriously.” But that is part of it, right, part of the business.

Anyway, every little detail is carefully manufactured for a Bond movie.  And that takes, apart from a lot of money, a great level of expertise and many employees, which combine into a story on film. “Legions of people work on every pixel, not to mention the light and the meaning of the music.” With all this in mind, it’s understandable how appealing it is to be in a movie like No Time To Die. Christoph Waltz has a lot of praise for the director, Cary Fukanaga: “He always knew exactly what he was doing and we knew exactly, why he did this or that”. Audiences were able to see this in previous projects, like the brilliant first season of True Detective, where he directed all eight episodes.

Christoph Waltz wouldn’t be Christoph Waltz if he didn’t show his extraordinary talents in unconventional projects as well, like the show Most Dangerous Game (with Liam Hemsworth, produced for Quibi). “What interested me there? The new dramatic form, it’s a story in 16 sections, each section only eight minutes long. We’re dealing with a new form of storytelling.” Does it remind him of the continuous comics that used to be in US-newspapers a few decades ago?

“Yes, it’s connected to that – but it also reminds me of Charles Dickens, who published many of his novels as newspaper installments. In Most Dangerous Game the great story arch is not lost, the suspense is carried from one episode into the next. “That is a sleight of hand.” And for that he received an Emmy nomination, and it wouldn’t be surprising if he was to win the prestigious award one day. But he pulled off other sleight of hands in the past. Or how the New York Times says in a headline: “Christoph Waltz directing Opera, moves from Tarantino to Verdi.” Adding his old comment to this: “The full-blooded, juicy movie experience has a lot of operatic qualities. I’m not talking about the film music, but about the rhythm and color and phrasing.” After “Der Rosenkavalier” (Music: Richard Strauss, Libretto: Hugo von Hofmannsthal), which he staged at the Antwerp Opera, came Giuseppe Verdi’s “Falstaff”, his second opera there.

“I’m not a fan of the never-seen-before concept”, says Christoph Waltz. He agrees with Susan Sontag’s essay Against Interpretation – in opera, there is a fix story, and the music is the central transmitter of this story. Over-interpretations can quickly become “dangerous sliding tackles.” Waltz wants to avoid those. “I want to show what the composers and authors meant.” He stayed true to Sontag’s principle in all three of his opera productions, the third on being Beethoven’s only opera “Fidelio”.

He is self-critical enough, “to personally take the risk of failing.” What would be the alternative?

“I’m just an actor, now what do the music critics, who take themselves so seriously say? Some foam at the mouth and brawl ‘the movie-bod is interfering in the opera’.” He prefers the critics that are capable of formulating things between the lines. “When I read elsewhere, that the very thing I was trying to convey can be seen in detail, then I’m quietly happy about it.” Sadly, the live performances of Fidelio fell victim to the covid-crisis, but there was a TV-screening on ORF, which can certainly be called presentable with 11% of the market-share.  “During ‘Fidelio’ I first realized physically that music is a spatial experience.” Here fits another Waltz-quote: “Strip away anything that us unnecessary.” Ergo: Reduce the action to the interaction between the characters. That is an art he mastered to perfection in acting.”

For once, I could surprise the cleaned up, chatty, well-tempered Christoph Waltz with a little research.

In his birthyear, 1956, his fellow countryman Walter Felsenstein, founder and artistic director of the “Komische Oper” in Berlin filmed a version of “Fidelio”. To this day, it remains the only film adaptation of the opera. Probably because – so the actor quotes Felsenstein – “this opera technically is impossible to stage”, he says with aplomb, an attitude that suits him. In ballet an aplomb describes the ability to absorb a movement, the balance.

Christoph Waltz not only shoots a lot of movies, but he also enjoys reading one particular movie critic: Anthony Lane of the New Yorker. Surely one of the most sharpened critics, who outtalks someone or rubs the reader’s nose into his alleged ignorance. We start talking about Lane via a new movie by the fabulous Agnieszka Holland, “Mr. Jones” – referring to Gareth Jones, advisor to the former British Prime Minister Lloyd George. Jones uncovers that the devastating hunger crisis in the Ukraine in 1932/33 was exclusively due to Stalin’s exploiting politics. Anthony Lane writes in inimitable fashion: „Is it conceivable that Holland’s bleak, murky, and instructive film could prompt a change of heart in the current Russian establishment, or even a confession of crimes past? Not a chance.“ Greetings from Belarus.

And of course, we also talk about COVID, what does an actor do who can’t act during these times? Is he reading Robert Musil’s novel The Man Without Qualities, which has more than 1000 pages? “Oh, I’ve already attempted to read this three times. The first time, I got to page 200, the second time I got to page 400, the third time I put it away after 100 pages.” But he doesn’t fully abandon the idea of finishing it one day. “But that would really be a true accomplishment of discipline”, he underlines, allusively smiling. Less amusing is the current stagnancy in Hollywood, where Christoph Waltz lives with his wife and daughter for the most part. “It will be illuminating once things pick up again”, he ponders “will a reforming spirit take over, or will everything fall back into the old, ignorant patterns, or even cause worse?” The temporary dysfunctionality of Hollywood is comparable to a dysfunctional family, which mechanisms become especially clear during crisis. Now he visited his mother here in Vienna. I allow myself the question, “Is Vienna your home?” “Vienna is my home, home is something you can’t choose, like your parents. Everything else can become your center of living, all that is willingly moveable – but home, home cannot be changed at will.”

[brideofedoras]

Under Covers

This fic was inspired by this photo.  That leg is my current sexuality.

Tagging my urbabes: @below-average-fangirl​ @emily-strange​ @nora-hewlett​ @to-boldly-nope​ @urban-trek-thru-middle-earth​ @pandaqueen7799​ @bakerstreethound​ @portals-to-a-new-world​ @writerdee1701​ @ladyreapermc

Enjoy!

Rating: 18+

Word count: 3200+

Warnings: Smut.

Ember had never been more thankful for dark sunglasses in her life.  And coffee shops that opened at the ass crack of dawn near the sleepy suburbs surrounding the greater DC area.  And six hour car rides to get to their destination.  Hopefully her boss would be kind and not go over the operation parameters for the tenth time since yesterday afternoon and she could catch an hour of sleep.  Without dreams.  Please please please, don’t let me have any repeat dreams that kept me up all night, she prayed fervently. 

The last thing she needed was to have a any more vivid sex dreams about her very hot boss while in the car with him.

It was bad enough she had agreed to go on this assignment with him, posing as a couple at some fancy beach resort in North Carolina and she fit the profile of the type of woman their target frequently sought out.  There were probably sixty agents with more fieldwork under their belts (or at least more qualified) for this kind of op who fit the profile, but Cooper had chosen her.  It was both an honor that he wanted her with him and intimidating as hell because she did not want to let him down.  

Her phone pinged with an alert, drawing her from her exhausted stupor.

I’m outside.

Ember sighed.  Be down in a minute, she texted back.  She slipped her phone in her back pocket, shouldered her purse and grabbed the handle of her suitcase.  She mentally went over her Leaving For Vacation checklist for the hundredth time, just as she always did before leaving for a few days.  Plants watered, lights off, oven off, thermostat set to a reasonable temperature, all small appliances unplugged, windows locked.  Phone charger and keys in purse.  Toiletry bag in suitcase.  Vibrator and extra batteries in suitcase… 

Unfortunately, since they were posing as a couple and would be sharing a one bedroom bungalow, she would have to remove the batteries to make damned sure she wouldn’t embarrass the hell out of herself should she need to relieve any frustrations.

Which there would be plenty.  William Cooper was a walking wet dream.  Tall.  Broad shouldered.  Scowly.  Sexy.  Intelligent.  And deep down underneath that frown she was used to seeing on a daily basis he was a softie.  That rarely seen soft side only fueled her crush on him that much more.  

With a weary sigh Ember set her security alarm and locked the door behind her.

Black Mercedes sedan, Cooper’s next text buzzed through.

Her brow quirked up as she pressed the call button for the elevator.  No Porsche?

Didn’t want to look like a man going through a midlife crisis.  

She bit back a smile.  You’re too young for a midlife crisis.

Ember was not surprised when no response buzzed through.  She stuffed her phone in her pocket once more and stifled a yawn as she made her way out to the parking lot.

She thought nothing of it when Cooper climbed out of the car and made his way to the back.  But once he cleared the trunk she nearly tripped over her feet.

In the short time she had known William Cooper she had never seen him wearing anything other than a suit.  Granted, most of the time the jacket was off and his sleeves rolled up, but suits had quickly become the sexiest thing she’d ever seen on a man (firmly replacing uniforms.  She’d always been a sucker for a man in a military uniform or tactical gear up until the first time she’d seen her boss loosen his tie and roll up his shirt sleeves).  

But she was woefully unprepared to see her hot boss wearing casual clothes.  A blue and white plaid button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, unbuttoned over a light grey tee-shirt and a pair of snug jeans with a hole ripped in the left knee… and a pair of sunglasses hiding those dangerously gorgeous hazel eyes.  And the stubble gracing his jaw.  Oh sweet heavens she was a sucker for unshaven jaws...

She once again thanked her lucky stars for dark sunglasses hiding her eyes.

The trunk latching shut startled her out of her wandering thoughts.  

“Get in the car, Kid.”

Oh.

No.

He.

Didn’t.

Ember bristled at that moniker.  She hated being called kid.  Hated it.  She was twenty-eight years old, barely, what, seven years younger than him.  Her eyes began to burn when she jerked the passenger door open.  Oh, don’t start, she admonished herself.  It’s too damned early and I hardly slept last night.  

“Easy there, tiger,” Cooper commented as he joined her in the car.  “You okay?”

She carefully shut her door, fastened her seatbelt and took a deep breath before she responded.  “Yeah.  Sleepless night,” she pasted on a smile as she turned to face him.

His brow furrowed.  “Worried about the op?”

“You could say that,” she let the smile fall off as she settled back in her seat.  That was partly true, at least.  She was worried about her part, terrified she would blow it. 

“You’ve got the easy job,” he started the car.  “Look pretty, flirt, be coy.”

“You call that easy?”  She glared at him behind her sunglasses, blushing at his look pretty comment.  “I can’t flirt my way out of a paper bag if I tried.”

His dimples flashed when he grinned.  “‘Your tie brings out the gold in your eyes, Boss’ ring a bell?  Or ‘You’ve got a bit of powdered sugar on your cheek’?”

Ember flushed beet red.  “A compliment and a gentle warning before a meeting are hardly flirting!”  She stammered out.

God, she had mentally kicked herself for a MONTH on the powdered sugar incident, brushing it from his cheek with her thumb.

Her palm still tingled from the feel of his afternoon stubble when she had cupped his cheek, as if she had any right touching him in such an intimate manner! 

“You were flirting,” his grin widened as he pulled out onto the street.  “And the plate of extra cookies left over from your Christmas dinner?”

“Figured your kids would like some cookies, and I had more than enough left over,” she shifted in a poor attempt to hide the blush creeping up her chest and neck and wished like hell she had worn something other than a scoop neck tank top.  She was not a pretty blusher when her chest got all splotchy.

“That’s what break rooms are for,” he chuckled.  “Pretty sure Sanderson would ask you to marry him if you bring baked goods in.”

She shuddered.  “Pretty sure he still lives in his parents’ basement.”

“Yeah, he has that personality,” Cooper frowned thoughtfully, slowing for a stoplight.  “Not your type then?”

“Have you ever heard me flirt with him?”

His belly laugh echoed through the car.  “No, no, I haven’t,” he managed to get out when his laughter died down.  “You can give Wilkes a run for her money in the ice queen department when you’re dealing with him.”

“I hope you’re giving me a compliment and not calling me a frigid bitch,” she couldn’t help but smile.  

“She’s the frigid bitch and she wears that badge with pride.  She made Sanderson cry a couple of times.  You’re at least polite.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t be,” she turned her attention back to the window.  “And I don’t flirt.”

“‘You’re too young for a midlife crisis’?”

“Not flirting!”  She shifted until her back was to him.  

“What is it, then?”

“The truth,” her forehead thunked against the passenger window.  “Thirty-five is still young.”  She sighed heavily.  “Age is only a number, what matters is how you feel inside.  Take Grandpa- er, Henry, for example.  He’s eighty-five, still working downstairs, running circles around the younger desk jockeys.”  

“I need to find out what his secret is,” Cooper mused beside her.

“No,” she squeaked out, remembering something she’d overheard her grandpa telling Joe a few years ago when they went to New Orleans to see her godfather.  “You don’t want to do that.”  That particular memory would be forever burned into her brain.

He looked over at her.  “Wait, he really has a secret?  What is it?”

“Nope,” she shook her head.  “It was bad enough overhearing it.  I’m not telling you.”

If she could lobotomize herself to remove that particular memory of hearing her grandfather say his secret to remaining youthful at heart was masturbating every day she’d do it in a heartbeat.

The thought of telling her hot boss was embarrassing.  

But the images popping up in her head of her boss following Henry’s secret to youthful energy?

Ember squirmed a little in her seat.  “H-how long of a drive is it again?”  Her voice cracked.

“Six hours if traffic isn’t bad.”

Six hours in a car with her hot boss.  After a couple of sex dreams and a long, sleepless night with her normally trusty vibrator and her vagina’s stubborn refusal to accept a toy penis to get the job done?  Fuck.

She groaned.  “Straight through, no stops?”

“I’ll make a couple of stops, I’m not a monster,” he chuckled.  “You have breakfast yet?”

She shook her head.  “There’s a coffee shop up ahead.  They have donuts and breakfast sandwiches.”

“Any recommendations?”

“The omelette sandwiches are to die for,” she stifled a yawn behind her hand.  “They come with sausage and cheese.  You’ve already had their donuts.”

He groaned.  “Might have to order a dozen for this weekend.”

“Better make it two dozen,” she shifted in her seat to get more comfortable.  “I’m not crawling out of bed before ten a.m. this weekend.”

“You’ve already claimed the bed, huh?”

A slow, delicious warmth crawled through her veins at the husky, playful tone in her boss’ voice.  “Figured it was a given since I’m a woman and you seem like the kind of guy who would take the couch.”

“Sweetheart, my back can’t take sleeping on couches for even a little catnap anymore,” he flipped on the blinker and turned into the lot for the coffee shop.  

“The bed’s a king, isn’t it?  We could share it,” her eyes fluttered shut behind her sunglasses.  “I promise to be on my best behavior.”

The strangled cough coming from the driver’s seat had her eyes snapping open.

“What?”

“You’re flirting again,” his voice was really husky now.

She frowned at him.  “No, I wasn’t.  My brain loses its filter when I’m running on very little sleep.”

“Always an excuse,” he shook his head as he rolled down the window.  “What kind of coffee?”

“Just ask for the Emberleigh special, they’ll know.”

Twenty minutes later (and some seriously teasing looks from the barista silently telling her that she was going to have to tell him all about the hot guy in the luxury sedan next week) they were on the freeway heading to North Carolina.  Cooper set the cruise and shifted to get comfortable.  

“Should we go over the parameters again?”

Ember swiveled her head around to glare at him, an “Oh, hell no” dying on her lips when she took in the glorious sight before her.

He had his left arm on the door, elbow bent to hook his fingers along the top of the window, left knee bent to showcase some tanned skin and glorious denim-encased thigh.

A very weak, very breathy “no” left her lips instead of the feisty retort.

He cast a quick glance at her before returning his attention to the road and the traffic around them.  “Seat reclines if you want to take a nap,” he told her.  

Sleep was suddenly the furthest thing from her mind.

And learning the seat reclined?

That really didn’t help matters any.  At.  All.

She picked up her caramel macchiato and took a sip.  Her vain attempt to put the brakes on the naughty thoughts forming in her mind just from the way those jeans hugged those thighs and that knee…

Stop it, Emberleigh, she firmly reprimanded herself as she turned back to watch the traffic in front of her.  Count road kill or play the license plate game.  Don’t stare at Cooper’s thighs and wonder what they look like out of those jeans.  Or nipping at them.  Or how thick he gets when he’s… sonofamotherfuckingbitch...

“If you want to turn the radio on, go for it, I listen to just about anything,” his voice broke through her wayward thoughts, teasing her with that husky tone.  “Except for the new crap.”

She blinked.  “Yeah, I can’t listen to that stuff either,” she pulled a face before looking at the dash and the stereo.  “I can Bluetooth my phone if that’s okay?”

“Go for it.”

Of course her playlist would just have to start off with “Rock You Like A Hurricane” by the Scorpions.  

And oh that wicked, wicked grin that slowly spread across William Cooper’s face and his poor attempt to imitate the lead singer’s vocals… of course that would make her squirm.

Both hands were on the steering wheel now, thumbs drumming along to the beat.

The tempo was the perfect rhythm to have sex to.  She mentally whined at the images popping into her head.  

The thought of Cooper timing his thrusts to the beat of the drum and adding a little rocking motion with the drum rolls nearly did her in.  And the fact he was singing off-key only made her that much hotter.

Ember squirmed, pressing her thighs together as she forced her attention on the road ahead of them.  

I’m fucked if he does this the entire drive…

She caught her bottom lip in her teeth to hold back the shuddery whine when her boss put his all into the one man, driver’s seat concert.  By the time Cooper pulled off the freeway at a rest stop she was a mess.

“You okay over there?”

His husky voice broke through her nearly-fevered thoughts.  “Huh?”

“You okay?  You’re whimpering over there,” he shoved his sunglasses up to give her a worried look.  “You get car sick?”

“No,” she shook her head.  

“Is there anything I can do for you?”

Yes!

She bit down on her bottom lip and shook her head.  “God dammit…”

“Ember, do I need to call someone else in on this?”  Gone was the light-hearted, teasing tone, in its place the no nonsense, cold tone she was used to in the office.  

Ember sucked in a shuddery breath.  “No, sir.  I can do this.”

“You’re about to crawl out of your skin, Ember,” he shifted in his seat to show her she had his full attention.  “What’s wrong?”

“You really don’t want to know,” she cringed when she realized how needy she sounded.

The silence in the car neared a deafening pitch… or was it her heart thundering in her ears… as she waited for his rebuttal.

“Honey, I think I do.”

Honey.

Honey.

That one word, the low, guttural way he practically growled it, had even more heat pooling low in her belly.  

She must have moaned or whispered his name, something to make his hazel eyes darken.  “I… should…  get some air…” she blindly reached for the seat belt.

But instead of reaching for the door she leaned across the console.

Cooper met her halfway.  His hands slid along her jaw to tilt her head before his lips met hers.

Ember let out a strangled moan when his tongue snaked into her mouth and curled around hers, teasing her, torturing her until she shuddered and pulled away for air.  She slowly blinked open her eyes to meet his.  “We… shouldn’t…”

“No, we definitely shouldn’t,” he agreed huskily as he tugged her into another kiss.  “It’s a damned bad idea.”

One minute she was still in her seat kissing her sexy boss.  The next she was straddling his lap with the seat reclined, her cutoffs nowhere to be found.  She pawed at his clothing as he tugged the low neckline of her tank top down to expose her lace-covered breasts.

“We can get naked later when we get to the beach house,” he growled before biting one pearled nipple through the sexy bra she wore.

Ember gasped his name as his hands curved over her ass to grind his hips into hers.  Any attempts to divest him of that magnificent plaid shirt and tee-shirt were quickly forgotten.

His jeans had to go.  Or at least be undone and pushed down so the zipper wouldn’t scratch the shit out of her ladybits.

She curled one hand into his dark hair and shoved her other hand between them as Cooper switched his attention to her other breast.  Holy Jesus she never thought getting her nipples sucked through a bra would be so hot!

“Easy, Tiger,” he groaned when she yanked at his belt.  He dropped his hands from her hips to help her, thrusting his hips up just enough to shove those slightly snug jeans down to mid-thigh.  They both moaned when his erection rubbed against her uncomfortably wet panties.

He hooked his fingers into the crotch of her panties and pulled them aside, earning another shuddering whine from Ember when his knuckles brushed her clit.  He palmed his hard length with his other hand and thrust his hips up.

“Oh… god…” she curled her fingers into his shirt as he grabbed her hips to pull her down.  

“I’m hardly god, Baby,” he half-groaned, half-chuckled as her tight heat sheathed him.  “Fuck… you’re so tight…”

She rolled her hips slowly.  “I don’t think I’m gonna last,” she moaned when Cooper’s hands palmed her ass to guide her.  

“Me either, Sweetheart,” he rocked his hips in time with hers.  

Ember buried her face in Cooper’s neck when the coil low in her belly tightened.  She untangled one hand from his shirt and slipped it between them, her fingers seeking out her clit.  

“That’s it, Baby,” he growled when he felt her knuckles against his lower belly.  His hands tightened into a bruising grip, one she relished, as he thrust up harder and faster.

She quickened the pace of her fingertips on her clit.  “Oh…  God…  Cooper…”

“Ember.”

She blinked her eyes open at the gentle squeeze of a large hand on her shoulder.  

“Wake up, Sleepyhead, we’re stopping for lunch,” he cleared his throat when she turned her head to face him.

Ember’s brow furrowed.

What the hell?

She was buckled in her seat, fully dressed?

Cooper dropped his hand.  “I’m surprised you fell asleep with my singing,” he teased her.  “Never worked on my kids when they were little.”

Did he sound a little gruff?

She blinked her eyes to try to focus on him.  Was he avoiding eye contact, too?  Damn those sunglasses…

“No comment?”  His chuckle sounded a tad forced.

“No!”  She blushed fiercely, wondering now if her dream had been… possibly a bit vocal.  “N-no, I… I guess a smooth car ride combined with a sleepless night put me to sleep.”

“Yeah, that’ll do it,” he slipped the key from the ignition and shifted in his seat to slip it in his pocket.  “Come on, I’ll buy you lunch.”

[voltagesmutter]

Miss.Julia Hoffman

Victor x MC (Bella Swan)

*Smut and NSFW*

“Your room card Miss.Hoffman,” The concierge sliding across the sleek keycard to you. A charming smile, a light dip of your Dior sunglasses and swift hand movement, you snap the key up and leave the front desk. Pulling along the GUCCI suitcase, radiance and wealth radiating off your personality, no-man dare cross your path as they all stood aside for you, jaws dropping to the floor among the sea of wealthy businessmen. As you step into the glass elevator, hand firmly around your suitcase handle as your gazes meet a sharp flash of purple before the doors shut. Victor Li. You couldn’t help but contain the smile on your face at the success of your plan, no-one recognising you as you portrayed the life of Miss. Julia Hoffman, a complete made up persona. It had started as a teasing joke, ‘I should just become a different person since I can’t be myself around you,”. Your hands flew up in a fit, another headline creating a false story around Victor, ‘Mistress seen leaving Victor Li’s house at 6 a.m. as a bachelor caught with another woman this week’. It was you, just in different disguises leaving Victor's house in the early morning. Victor and you had been secretive about your relationship, you were exclusive, very exclusive. But you wished for privacy, as soon as the press caught wind of the woman in Victor Li’s life it would be non-stop for months on end, and while he never said it aloud. Victor cared more for your privacy and safety than his multi-million company and he would rather lose all his profit than see you suffer at the hands of the media. They would pull past history, investigating into your private past, each drop of information spilled across a headline like a fresh drop of ink on paper. Victor would rather take the full blow, leaving him a misogynistic playboy with a reputation of taking mysterious lovers, rather than see your name sprawled across a headline with a fade up rumour next to it. So you decided to create just one disguise, a successful businesswoman of the name, Julia Hoffman. 

Julia Hoffman was a well endowed business investor, always investing under false names so no-one could track her records, who broke into the world of investing amongst the businessman. You educated yourself by learning and using words like ‘Defensive Investment’, ‘Capital Expenditure’, ‘Arbitrage’ and Victors personal favourite ‘Persuasion’. Since you played the part, you needed to look the part, Victor giving you his black card to go shopping and ‘dress appropriately’. Julia Hoffman wore tight white shirts tucked into a leather tight skirt, showing off her curvaceous figure below the tailored in blazer. The red-bottomed heels screamed her wealth and power, each clack could be heard before she entered a room, pulling all attention on to her. “I’ll need a Porsche you know,’ You wink with a tease to Victor as you show him the bags of your clothes you had purchased. A chuckle from the CEO as he nodded approvingly at the outfit choices, you ensured not to show him the little number you had planned for your first meet up, which was only days away. The press went wild when they clicked Julia sneaking out, the dark shades over her face to block her eyes from view, power radiating in her walk. When she was then pictured shopping amongst the wealthiest shops in the city the previous day, the press clung to find out who this woman was. It became the hottest topic of the week news, who was this mystery woman and how could no-one identify who she was. 

The plan was for Julia Hoffman to check in first, the online booking being checked by the young man at the desk. From then Victor would turn up, so that the press wouldn’t know Miss.Hoffman was there, check in and meet in one of the rooms. Only Victor didn’t expect to see you radiating with a new found level of confidence, the gleaming smile on your lips, the skin tight dress framed your body perfectly. He wanted to knock-out everyone who was gazing at your beauty, sweep you up in his arms and take you to his room. But Victor couldn’t do that because you weren't Bella in that moment, you were Julia Hoffman. 

The doors of the elevators opened, you stepped out onto the business suit floor, room 409, the room on the end of the corridor. Perfectly private. Your eyes widened at the sight, wealth dripped from the room a chandler having from the ceiling, glass floor to ceiling windows that peered down on the bustling city below. You unpacked your bag, before texting Victor ‘Julia is settled’. You felt like an agent on a mission, unable to hold back the child-like giggles at the pure amusement of the situation.

Around an hour later you heard a knock at the door, running to quickly open it, Victor fled inside two tumblrs of whisky in his hand. “Mr.Li” A smile gracing your lips as you stepped back from the smartly suited man. “Such an honour to have a man of such wealth grace my presence’ you welcome him in, striding across the room. “I have a proposition Mr.Li’ You lean forward and press your hands against the window, letting your ass seductively sway. Victor takes bounding strikes to be within your proximity. “It must get lonely at the top, let me help you find comfort,” It falls so seductively from your lips, your hands bunching up your skirt before pushing down your silk panties, a small thud hitting the floor. A choke from the unflusturable CEO, placing the drinks down and pressing up fiercely behind you, pushing your body to lay against the window. Lips humming with a satisfying pleasure as he pressed kisses against the base of your neck, exposed from your high ponytail, a subtle moan falling from you. As his kisses continue, savouring each crevice against your skin, his hands tracing over your bare ass giving you a harsh squeeze. He wanted to undress you, see you at your most vulnerable, naked, trembling beneath him, your eyes shut tight to hold back the tears, that was Victor’s favourite moment of you. But that was saved just for him in the comfort of his home, right now both of you played the part of the needing-full business couple. The hardness of his cock, strained by his trousers pressed fiercely against your lower back, he was ready to tease you until dawn broke. But the lust fill moaned of his name as you ran a finger over your already dripping core was enough to snap the man's self-control.  

His left hand running up your body as his fingers wrap around your neck with a tight grip, his right pressing fiercely against the window, now fogging up with your heavy breath for support as he hilts himself within you. The heavy groans, hot against your neck sending raising goosebumps around your body, each individual hair sending a vibration through your body. ‘I will never be lonely with you beside me’ The strain in his voice as let the persona drop, speaking his words directly to you. The strangling grunt below the shell of your ear made you clench over his thickness, normal a reserved man Victor was rare to make noises whilst fucking. ‘Your so tight for me, your perfect’ The two final words leaking like a trickling fountain out of his mouth, your left hand moving up to reach around, tugging at his thick hair, the right slamming against the window you were pushed up against. Victor’s coming down a few spaces to interlace his fingers with yours. ‘Only yours Victor’ Through broken moans, throwing your head back against his shoulder, eyes tightly shut as the heated pressure growing with intensity bubbled. The hand around your neck pressed with additional pressure, not enough to hurt but slight enough to make you feel light headed as he thrusted deep inside you. Each harsh thrust against you slapped against your ass, the feeling of his balls slapping against you, tears forming as you clenched your eyes shut. Your head rolled back against his clothed shoulder as whimpers fell from your mouth, the feral actions of Victor as he slammed into you, your fingers clawing helpless at the glass window for something to grab. The depth of his angle as his head brushed against your g-spot, your head lightly spinning as the tightness within you began to grow. The muscles clenched over him, the pressurised build up rapidly increased as it almost reached boiling up, each thrust bringing you close. Until it finally snapped, like a glass shattering from being dropped, a million shards of pleasure shattering across your body with a warm wave.  A string of ‘I’s’ as a warning but unable to finish, Victor’s thrusting hips bringing you to a mind-blowing release, your head feeling as if you almost blacked out for a minute from the insatiable pleasure from within you. The hand around your neck loosens slightly, Victor’s face turns to bring his lips to yours, tongues wrestling against each other as his thrusts become sloppy, the slapping of his balls hitting your leaking pussy pulsed through the room. One, two, three final thrusts and he spills deep inside you with a deep groan, the hand interlaced with yours gripping tightly over yours. A tender claim between the pair of you, that you belonged to each other.

The pair of you spent most the night ravishing each other, a deep physical and emotional connection between you as soft spoken words were exchanged, the put up front of personas lost between your passion. You begged him to not leave as you yawned, finally spent and unable to take any more, legs physically trembling when you stood up. You curled up against his strong torso, his heart beat flooding your ears as you pressed your head to his chest, a strong arm wrapped around your waist. The faintest sweet words were whispered into your hair as a pair of warm lips pressed against your forehead as you drifted so peacefully, full of content to sleep. When you awoke the following morning you were alone, the faint trace of Victor's scent on the pillow, the growing coldness of where he had crept across the mattress. It hurt in your heart waking up alone, all you wanted was to be beside Victor, not sneaking around with your relationship. The months you had been together, enjoying each other's company in the privacy of his home, it was the best time of your life but it just wasn’t enough. You wanted to walk hand in hand down the street, enjoy time at festivals together rather than ‘coincidentally’ meeting, getting to enjoy normal activities as a couple. Rather than sneaking out of his house in the early morning, never being able to be comforted by him at work, all you wanted to scream from the top of the LFG building was that you were head of heels in love with Victor Li. But as soon as your relationship would be public, everything would change, but would it all be that bad? 

What you didn’t know was how Victor felt the same, pulling himself from your sleeping form to return to his room was agony. All he wanted to do was have you cradled in his arms as you slept so peacefully. Each morning when he woke up to see you had already left, the emptiness of his bed without you, all of it made his heart ache. Why should he live in fear of the media? Why should he sacrifice parts of his relationship, the woman who drove him mad with her at times simpleness, out of fear? Pulling himself from your warmth, just for the sake of not being caught was the final straw, Victor couldn’t do this anymore.

You flicked on the news as you woke up hazily from your sleep, pulling yourself grudgingly out of bed, trying your hair up as a knock came at the door. ‘Just a minute’ you yelled back but the repeated knocking drove you to answer it. 

“Victor?” You questioned, opening the door but he shoved you inside, a grip on your shoulders as his lips met yours, “Victor! People will- Hmph!”. You protested with concern but then took the angle to deep the kiss. 

“I don’t care, let them know,” His words fell into your mouth as he embraced you.

Your relationship came public after Victor released a statement, declaring your relationship in the form of a letter which was later published, a plea at the end to respect your boundaries. The press went into a frenzy, each media trying to snap you and Victor together, throwing themselves at you both for interviews. As a couple you did one interview, an exclusive for ‘Miracle Finder’ sending ratings to an eye-watering high. The rumours of his playboy life style was put to rest, the scandals of the women leaving his house all put down to you, the extended length of depths you went to protect your relationship. The press adored you both, comments flooding in about how happy Victor looked, the way his face lit up when he spoke about your relationship. Seeing the CEO so happy, the press left you both alone, something neither of you would have imagined would happen.

“Are you okay?” He asked, squeezing your hand as you nodded to him with a smile. Today you were finally visiting the festival of light, together, as a couple. The false persona of Julia Hoffman had been disbanded, allowing you to enjoy Victor's company as yourself. The pair of you stepped out of Victor’s house and walked along the street, other couples smiling and waving at you, a flood of happiness stifled through your body.

“Victor look!” You squealed, letting go off your boyfriend's hand and rushing to the stall with candies shaped like animals.

“Dummy,” He sighed ever so softly with a chuckle, coming to stand up behind you, an arm wrapped around your waist, “Entertained by the smallest of trinkets, I love you”. The three words stopped you in your track, three words he had never to you.

“You love me?” You couldn’t hold back the goofy smile as you turn to face him, a bashful look on his face.

“Well- I-” He mumbled, the colour rising on his cheeks.

“I love you too,” You gleefully giggle, leaning up to stand on your tip-toes and pressing a loving kiss to his lips.

Everything about Victor was perfect, your relationship was perfect but this, right now, spending quality time as a couple was the most blissful experience ever.