#so i was looking around both the coffee shop and the boutique and it was devoid of potential romance partners to be honest

[humbledragon669]

S2E1 - The Arrival Write Up P3 - the Present Day from the introduction of Maggie and Nina up to The Box

Alright, I’ve already written two whole blogs on this episode and I haven’t even gotten through the first 15 minutes of it so let’s jump straight in with Nina’s opening line:

NINA: See anything you fancy?

I mean, if that’s not a blatant display of foreshadowing, I don’t know what else you need. And given Maggie’s rather shy disposition, I have to say I think she handles it pretty well. Goodness knows what must be going through her head. Actually, I think I know exactly what’s going through her head:

I think she pulls it off. Just. What I find interesting about Nina’s response is that she simultaneously manages to flatter Maggie by remembering her order and highlight that she’s completely distanced from her by referring to her as the drink she orders.

NINA: You’re a skinny latte.

I mean, I don’t know about you, but I’d much rather the love of my life call me by my name, rather than by the coffee I order. Maggie doesn’t seem to care though, she’s just delighted that Nina remembers anything about her:

That delight lasts all of a few seconds before Nina manages to give her another label that she’s probably not looking for – that of “a regular”. It’s a little painful to see the joy on Maggie’s face dissolve into disappointment as she realises that the reason her coffee order has been recalled is more to do with the frequency of her attendance in the coffee shop than the object of her desires actually paying her any attention.

Now I don’t know about you, but I had already formed an opinion about Nina by this point in the show, and that opinion is that she’s not very nice. Here’s the line that did it for me:

NINA: You work in the record shop don’t you? Don’t know who actually buys records in this day and age.

I mean, really? The owner of a boutique record shop, one of your customers, someone you barely know, has come to support your own local business, and you repay their loyalty by undermining their career choice? At the very least, I’d call that rude. There are a couple of extenuating circumstances around this that I would like to look at, and they are pretty starkly contrasting – let’s start with the bad vibes first.

I have seen it said before that female characters in the creator’s work are grossly subject to sexist bias. I can fully understand that stance – if we look at the female characters in the original Good Omens novel, we can see that women are characterised as inherently “bad” (the nuns), stupid (Madame Tracy was explicitly described as such), or overly sexualised (the physical appearances of both Anathema and War are regularly described with regards to their attractiveness). If that’s true, we can see those characterisations continuing here – Nina is the “bad” character, Maggie the “stupid” one (not my personal opinion!). This all makes me very uncomfortable.

The good vibes scenario is to do with positive representation of neurodivergence. We know that both characters are based on the real-life personalities of the actors playing them; it’s largely why they both kept their own names. We also know that Maggie Service herself is neurodivergent, which her social awkwardness could potentially be attributed to. What if Nina (the character, I make no claims about Nina Sosanya) is also neurodivergent? That might explain her bluntness in this particular situation – she’s just saying what she’s thinking after all. Given that that the author himself has confirmed that both Crowley and Aziraphale show neurodivergent behaviours, and that it’s fairly common fandom opinion that Nina and Maggie are a mirror for Crowley and Aziraphale, that would strengthen that theory. Not to mention that the show as a whole works to showcase equality for all, whether it be in terms of sexuality, ability, or race/creed.

I think we would all say that we’d rather the latter of these two possibilities is actually what the show is aiming for. There’s just something about the first possibility that nags at me though. I want to believe it’s the second thing (even if that makes me quick to judge), I really do. Perhaps recent events have just made me very cynical. *sigh* Shall we move on to naked John Hamm?

Can we just take a moment to appreciate how tongue-in-cheek accurate the exclamation that both Maggie and Nina choose to use is? Gabriel being both “holy” and, from what we’ve seen so far, an absolute “shit”. Love it. On another quick side note, somebody forgot to make sure that this extra knew how to use a phone convincingly:

What exactly is she doing, smashing away at her phone screen like that? Multiple pictures perhaps, but it seems unlikely.

Continuing on Gabriel’s skyclad promenade, we’re introduced to some no longer inanimate tomatoes. I feel like there has been quite a lot of discussion about that shot, which is not surprising given that the editors have gone out of their way to include it. Maybe the stall was knocked by somebody on their way to try and get a glimpse of the naked man (not unlikely), but we don’t get any suggestion of that. A few of them even roll across the road, causing Gabriel to step over them. Honestly, I don’t have any theories about this single shot, but I do wonder if there might have been a bit more in the original script for the episode. Having completed the script-to-screen comparisons, it was evident that the author wrote (often unnecessarily) extensive stage directions; perhaps there was something in those that would have explained this singular shot. If anybody has any thoughts, let me know – I do like the idea of Gabriel “upsetting the apple cart” but I don’t know why they wouldn’t just have used apples in that was the case, particularly as there are already some right there on the stall:

Alright, next point of note. Gabriel goes directly to the bookshop door. Do not pass Go, do not collect £200. He walks straight past the door in the pub that we later come to see is the door to the elevator to Heaven. Something to bear in mind here is that we don’t actually know where Gabriel has come from to get here and he already has quite the following as he walks down Whickber Street. How long has he been walking through the streets of London in his state of undress?! Considering how little information he has retained from his tenure as supreme archangel, he must have some sort of strange homing beacon to know to go to Aziraphale’s bookshop.

Next question – why does Aziraphale treat his record so roughly when he’s interrupted by Gabriel knocking on the door? Considering the fact that he explicitly says that this type of record can be difficult to obtain, and the pleasure he clearly gets from listening to them, why risk scratching the one playing with his actions? As a matter of fact, have we ever had any indication that Shostakovich is one of Aziraphale’s favoured composers? He wasn’t on the list that Crowley reeled off in St. James’s Park all those years ago when the Antichrist was born, not even on the slightly extended version in the book. Urgh, there’s that ridiculous thought again – that’s not Aziraphale. I seriously can’t see how that thought could play out long term, but this is certainly uncharacteristic behaviour from our angel.

Alright, that’s quite enough of the questions for now. Let’s have a look at this delicious sequence of micro-expressions from Aziraphale when he opens the door:

Aside from the fact that the first thing he pays any attention to (despite the fact that Gabriel is standing not more than a foot away from him) is the crowd of people amassed outside the book shop (something I think is probably influenced by what I take to be a reflexive look to the Bentley’s usual parking space), what I find very interesting about this is that he doesn’t register any shock until he sees Gabriel’s face. Let me repeat that for a second and let it sink in – he’s not shocked that there’s a naked man on his doorstep, he’s shocked that it’s Gabriel. And if that wasn’t enough food for thought, tell me these are the hands of a being who isn’t hardwired to return an embrace:

Those fingers are curled people. Reflexively grabbing. He’s also raised them to return the embrace (when you look at the previous shot, they’re relaxed by his sides). Probably good for him that his common-sense kicks in and stops him from completing the action he has started instinctively – maybe that’s something to do with whatever it is that catches his attention here:

I want to talk a little bit about Gabriel’s demeanour in this sequence. It’s clear that he has no idea that nakedness is a thing that isn’t really done in public. In fact, he appears not to even understand the concept of being naked at all:

GABRIEL: Who told you I was naked?

A little while ago, I’m pretty sure I read a post about this particular quote being a biblical reference to Adam not knowing what nudity is, or its connotations, until after he eats the apple. If anybody knows where this is, I’d be grateful for the link, as I couldn’t find it. Google has informed me that the Christian lore is that Adam felt no shame about his nudity until after eating the forbidden fruit. What I find really interesting about the parallel with this scene is that whilst Gabriel feels no shame for being naked, Aziraphale is fully aware of the connotations with nakedness in human society. More importantly, he’s clearly experiencing an emotional response to the situation. I take this to be a clear indicator that he has truly “left the garden” and embraced humanity; my thinking is that the knowledge of nakedness might prompt the angel to inform Gabriel of the nakedness but wouldn’t invoke an emotional reaction. Which, to be fair, he might not be feeling so strongly if he would just stop LOOKING AT IT.

So I lied, I do have one more question about this scene, and it’s to do with Aziraphale’s response to Gabriel asking if he can come in.

That’s a pretty strong, even physical, response. What I’d quite like to know is how much of it is because Gabriel is naked, and how much is that Gabriel is… well, Gabriel. Personally, the latter of those two options doesn’t sit right; Aziraphale doesn’t really know what’s going on with Gabriel at this point, but he does know that he doesn’t appear to have any memories that would make him a threat. And let’s not forget to mention the change in his eye colour – they were purple in the first season, now they’re just John Hamm-coloured (which makes me wonder what exactly it is that causes the eye colouration in the first place). It’s clear that the man standing on the bookshop doorstep is not the supreme archangel that Aziraphale had come to fear in season 1, and Gabriel has actually been more than pleasant (nudity aside) up to this point. So that would suggest the violence of that reaction is largely to do with the nakedness, which brings us back to the whole “Aziraphale has left the Garden” point I made earlier. Not to mention that having a naked man in his shop, regardless of the identity of said man, is not going to go down well with his husband Crowley. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

Quick point to reiterate what I was saying about Nina earlier on.

I mean, this just feels downright rude to me. It’s not the deliberate attempt to keep Maggie at a distance by insisting on referring to her as her coffee order, it’s the dismissive “I know who you are” (which is delivered immediately after the two of them seem to share a joke between them). Honestly, I feel like Maggie could do better for herself at this point. Anywho.

Moving swiftly through the tiny scene with Michael’s celestial telephone conversation, the next thing we see is Aziraphale being a lovely host to his new naked manfriend.

Ah lovely. Wait, what? Doesn’t Gabriel abhor the idea of consuming human food and drink?

 Yes, yes he does. So what initially appears to be a charming gesture of welcome from the principality is actually a beautifully subtle (and actually quite malicious, given Gabriel’s acute vulnerability here, what with the memory lost) “fuck you”. And all delivered with some helpful information about what it’s called and what to do with it. Just another little reminder that Aziraphale is very capable of indulging in some deliciously demonic characteristics when it suits him.

I’m really interested in how this whole memory loss thing actually functions – it’s clear that Gabriel has no idea who he is (he explicitly says so) and has no memory that drinking human drinks is something he doesn’t partake of. That said, he does seem to understand that “drinking” is something he’s never done before, and that hot chocolate is something he hasn’t experienced (see the cautious sniff he gives the mug). To make things all the more confusing, he also seems to understand certain social cues – he knows that Aziraphale recognised him when he arrived at the bookshop. That latter point is somewhat ironic, given his previous lack of knowledge around human social conventions.

And let’s not forget that change in eye colour (which reverts in later scenes where he actually manages to access some of his old memories, despite him not “opening” the fly). What exactly is it that has been extracted from his being and stored in the fly? Because it sure doesn’t feel like “his memories” really covers all the bases. I don’t think it’s that important, it’s just something I wonder about.

Alright it’s time to talk about a moment that has already been discussed A LOT:

GABRIEL: You know what it’s like when you don’t know anything at all and that you’re totally certain that everything would be better if you were just near one particular person?

Other than adding to my wondering about what exactly Gabriel has had extracted into the fly (seeing as this is how he is describing his instincts to go to Aziraphale), his side of the conversation here is fairly obvious. What we’re all more interested in is Aziraphale’s reactions to the question, more specifically his facial expressions because the King of Micro-Expressions is about to put his superpower to work. But first a warm-up. Have a look at this look of disbelief (not to mention the start of a tiny headshake “no”) at the first half of the question:

My take on the subtext going on here is something along the lines of “well, no, I really don’t know what that’s like. I’m far too intelligent and clever for that to be the case. What a ludicrous suggestion”. And I have come to that conclusion because that is exactly what I would be thinking in that situation :D Let’s move on to the second part of Gabriel’s question and move into micro-expression time!

What’s that Aziraphale? You know exactly what he’s talking about now? Your tiny head nod “yes” has somewhat given the game away on that one. I’ve slowed that GIF down massively so you can see it, and if you’re still in any doubt, just watch the lock of hair in the middle of his forehead when that scene plays at full speed – it’s undeniable. And if you thought that micro-expression was tiny, let’s have a look at the next one.

That GIF is slowed down to a tenth of the original speed. Which means the original expression flies across his face for less than a third of a second. I don’t have the words to express how impressed I am at this. That third of a second tells us that not only does Aziraphale know exactly how this feels, but that it’s a happy place for him to be. That tiny smile, combined with the accompanying script, tells us more about what he feels for Crowley than an entire season could.

This extreme reaction has me interested. I think the reason behind it could be one of two things; the first possibility is that Aziraphale thinks he’s being tricked into leaking some pretty revealing information. Feasible, but given that Gabriel’s memory is well and truly absent, this seems unlikely. My second thought is that he’s concerned that Gabriel feeling that way towards him indicates some sort of arrangement that he does not want to commit to. This feels truer to me, not least because he goes out of his way to distance himself from the subject matter, in both verbal and physical ways. There’s a feeling that he wants to vehemently discourage any exploration of what Gabriel’s feelings towards him could be, and what the consequences are. And, to be fair to him, he only has his own feelings to base that assumption off of; after all, if Gabriel feels about him the way that he feels about Crowley this mystery person that makes everything alright, there are certain human conventions about where Gabriel might be expecting things to be headed. And this is some classic Aziraphale flustering, isn’t it? Get into an uncomfortable situation, it’s time to make exaggerated physical gestures (not to mention unnecessary mouth movements) to try and dispel the tension. Those little sub-conscious giveaways will become very important later. But I’m getting ahead of myself again.

In this particular situation, he undoes his flustering hard work with a dreadful little nervous smile.

Honestly, this angel is totally incapable of not wearing his heart on his sleeve. It’s a good job that Gabriel is both clueless and harmless at this point. Let’s have a look at one last micro-expression before I get out of the weeds.

What… what is this? Because the thing I feel like it looks like the most is disappointment – the shallow intake of breath, downcast eyes, THE GULP… All topped off with the expression at the end, which we’ve seen before:

One major difference – the last time we saw it, he had reason to be disappointed, having mistakenly believed that angelCrowley was calling him gorgeous. I can’t understand what Aziraphale would have to be disappointed about here, unless it’s an ego thing. Perhaps I’m misinterpreting the whole reaction to being told the only reason Gabriel said what he did was actually more to do with the bookshop than the person in it is because he feels like he’s just dodged a bullet (pun totally intended), but that just doesn’t sit well with me.

I think I’ve droned on about this tiny section of this episode for far too long already (I knew this season was going to be something of a mission!), but I do want to touch briefly on the way that Gabriel reacts to drinking his cocoa. Aside from this being a really charming representation of the experience of drinking a hot, sweet cup of hot chocolate, what Gabriel’s reaction re-enforces the idea that these are sensations he’s never experienced before, which circles me back around to that whole logistics of memory wiping thing again. Don’t get me wrong, I love this version of Gabriel – there’s a childlike innocence about him that’s probably closer to humanity’s version of innocence than Heaven’s version, and the resulting comedy is gold – I just struggle with the specifics of this particular story-telling device. That said, we do get to see (and mostly hear) Aziraphale go into complete panic mode just because Gabriel has never experienced hot liquid arriving in his tummy before.

A Clue for the eventual end of season 3 or terrible ironic foreshadowing for the end of season 2? Probably 50/50 to be honest. Or at least I really hope so.

Oh, one last thing, and this one I didn’t catch until this write up. When we see the box on the doorstep of the bookshop (how adorable is it that Gabriel says his arms were getting tired from carrying an empty box by the way?), the fly is not in the box. You read that right, the FLY IS NOT IN THE BOX. This one was difficult to catch – I tried to GIF it, but it wasn’t clear enough, so a couple of images will have to do, and you can go back and watch it with the tip of your nose an inch from the screen like I did.

It is SUPER hard to see. It might look like the change in position is to do with the change in camera angle, but not so – the fly actually walks across the top of the box, and right at the end, disappears into the tiny gap were the flaps of the box meet. So to recap, not in the box whilst it sits on the doorstep (was it ever in there?) but definitely in the box when Aziraphale picks it up and takes it in inside. Again, this is one of those things that I don’t necessarily think is important, but it is a really lovely little Easter egg for the eagle eyed.

I definitely have rambled on too long for this section (how can this be part 3, and I’m not even half way through the episode yet?!), so I’m wrapping it up there. As always, questions, comments, discussions, always welcome. See you for the next one – I really will try not to be so ridiculously microscopic.

[fingertipsmp3]

I love sim drama

[delirious-donna]

The Surprise [Higuruma Hiromi]

an: it’s 2am and here I am posting this smut-filled fic because I can’t sleep and I can’t stop thinking about this man. p.s. requests are open for Higuruma specifically so drop me an ask if you wanna give me some ideas for everyone’s favourite lawyer!

pairing: Higuruma Hiromi x female reader

warnings: lingerie, pussy drunk Hiromi (it’s canon don’t fight me), multiple orgasms, unprotected sex (wrap it folks) and other goodies

Masterlist

“Will that be everything for you today?” The cheery assistant asked offering a genuine smile whilst they rang through your purchases and packed them carefully into a neat little box.

Your stomach fluttered with the thought of what might transpire this coming weekend, a long-planned weekend that couldn’t arrive quick enough. The delicate tissue paper wrapped around the items inside the box before the assistant closed it over, tied a ribbon securely and placed it in a paper bag.

“Yes, that’s it. Thank you for your help earlier, I appreciate it!”

With a bounce in your step and a sizeable dent in your bank balance, you exited the boutique store to daydream about your husband’s reaction to your little splurge. Neither of you were accustomed to dropping large sums of money so randomly, both believing that an air of caution and frugality would see you through any potential storms on the horizon, but you had walked past this store so many times and finally been tempted into their den of sinful delights.

Inclusive-sized mannequins displayed a range of differently styled lingerie, from demure bridal wear to raunchy strips of leather and wide mesh that would leave very little to the imagination. At first, you were convinced it would only be window shopping, however, when you spied an elegant-looking black bodysuit that seemed like it would hold all your bits in without compromising the sex appeal element, it was game over.

Once you were interested, the friendly young assistant swooped in and soon you were trying it on in the fancy dressing room. The lighting was complimenting rather than garishly fluorescent, and the lull of soft, sensual music added to the overall experience, one you were rather enjoying. The strapless bodysuit hugged your curves and accentuated your décolletage nicely. Clearly, it was designed by scientists to support your breasts without cumbersome straps, and you silently praised their ingenuity. Paired with crotchless fishnet tights that you could secure beneath the suit—a suggestion from your enthusiastic little helper—you knew that Hiromi would likely lose his mind and you couldn’t wait.

Your poor, overworked and perpetually exhausted husband had been burning the candle at both ends for the past nearly four months, neck deep in a case that if he were to win would be a monumental victory in his career. In support, you packed him off every morning with a full lunch consisting of his favourite foods, mostly to encourage him to actually eat instead of consuming mug after mug of rancid instant coffee. In your evenings, you helped him go over witness testimonies, read over his arguments for clarity, and did everything you could to lighten his load around the house. It wouldn’t be a permanent arrangement, you both knew that, and to say he appreciated your support was an understatement.

That’s why when he told you that it was all drawing to a conclusion and that he was cautiously optimistic it would end in his favour, you revelled in that knowledge. Whether it did come to fruition or not, his weekend would be free, and he promised to spend some real quality time with you without the cloud of looming work. There was nothing more he could do, no more past cases he could study and the thought of basking in his undivided attention warmed your heart and soul.

With two days remaining before your scheduled weekend plans to do absolutely nothing but relax and unwind in each other’s presence, you again peeked at the box you’d tucked into your side of the wardrobe, away from prying eyes. Maybe it was a bout of nerves, a moment of body consciousness, that made you pull your surprise out to examine the contents. Whatever it was, you worried your bottom lip once the intimate outfit was laid out on the bedspread.

“What was I thinking… this is too much,” you quietly scolded yourself.

Flopping beside the expensive scraps of fabric, you brushed a palm down your face and reminded yourself that you looked fucking divine in the changing room of the boutique, so why would it be any different now? More so, you knew deep in your heart that Hiromi adored you and thought you were a goddess, one he claimed he didn’t deserve.

A few moments later, you stood in front of the mirrored wardrobe to scrutinise your reflection. Your eyes narrowed as you tugged the sweetheart cups into place and felt the soft squish of your breast jiggle inside. Turning to the side, a hand ran the length of your torso with a grin unfurling at the tight hug of the sheer-panelled fabric. Damn, your backside looked real good from this angle. But maybe the fishnets were too much, you mused, turning this way and that.

You ran your fingers through your hair, wondering if you should try to style it, maybe give it some more volume and texture. It was at that moment, whilst making kissy faces at your reflection with your hands scrunching handfuls of your hair and up on your tippy toes to extend the length of your legs, that the bedroom door opened, and you froze like a deer in headlights.

~

Higuruma Hiromi was on cloud nine. Not only had he won a career-defining case against all the odds, but the judge had also taken less time to deliberate than anyone expected they would. After a hearty swig of celebratory champagne drank from crappy paper cups with his partner and their secretaries, he was on the first train home to truly celebrate with the only person that mattered—you.

What he didn’t expect to find when he entered the house as stealthily as he could manage was the vision of you standing in the middle of the bedroom looking like one of the pin-up models from the magazines he would hide under his mattress as a young man.

Like a slightly tipsy house cat, he tiptoed his way through the rooms, listening for signs of you and driving straight towards the bedroom to surprise you with his unannounced return. The door bounced open on its hinges and he stood, shell-shocked for a moment before it turned to white-hot appreciation.

You looked beautiful, stunning, breathtaking even. There weren’t enough colourful adjectives for how he felt about you at any given time, but right now, modelling a black bodysuit that hugged both your butt and your breasts, he was entirely dumbstruck. Hiromi didn’t know where to look, or whether you’d rather he look away given your strangled yelp of surprise at his sudden appearance. You made no effort to cover yourself or shove him out the door, no, you both faced one another as if neither of you knew what to do or say.

His eyes continued to betray him, slowly caressing the length of your figure and finding new things to appreciate; the sweetheart cups, the gauzy panels that allowed him glimpses of your skin beneath, and not to mention the fishnet tights. He hadn’t seen you wear anything like those since your dating years, and he had forgotten how much he missed them, or how many he had ruined by ripping through the gusset in his haste.

“What are you doing home?” You glanced at the alarm clock on the bedside table and back to your husband, heat filling your face but something else followed on the tails of your embarrassment, something more pleasant.

Hiromi ran this thumb over his mouth, gaze pointedly fixed on your chest, and you cleared your throat with emphasis until he finally met your eye and the arch of your eyebrow. Already his neck looked red, like a rash had spread from below the collar of his shirt and travelled towards his jaw. If you could describe a person as having hearts for eyes, it would be one Higuruma Hiromi and you adored him for his open adoration.

“We… I won,” he managed weakly, smiling as if coming out of a daze and you blinked for a moment while processing the words.

“You won?”

He chuckled. “I won.”

A wealth of emotions passed over your face until you ended with ecstatic pride, tears near pricking your eyes as you launched yourself into his arms and peppered his cheeks and nose with enough kisses to make him blush more furiously. His hands settled on your hips, his touch more hesitant than you would expect given the circumstances and you pulled back to give him a questioning look.

“What’s wrong? I thought you’d be more excited than this.”

“Darling…” he started, skimming his fingertips up and down your sides before rounding to your full backside and squeezing as he spoke. “What’s this?”

In your joy, you had forgotten that Hiromi had walked in on you wearing the lingerie that was meant to be for this weekend and meant to be a surprise. You guessed it still had been, although not the one you planned. “Oh, just a little something to show my hardworking man that I love and adore him. Nothing much.”

“Nothing much…” he repeated in a disbelieving whisper. A finger ran the length of your spine, from the top of your backside to near the base of your skull, dragging it slowly and watching you shudder beneath his deliberate touch. Your shoulder blades shifted, pushing your chest out further and into his, which earned you a groan of appreciation.

“I wouldn’t call this nothing much. You look like a wet dream come to life.”

He walked you backwards, the scent of champagne hot on his breath and your stomach curled into a mass of twisted anticipation—heavy in the depths of your belly. Your thighs crashed into the edge of the bed and Hiromi used your moment of imbalance to shove you atop, quickly shucking out of his jacket and crawling over you.

“Hiromi,” you squeaked between peals of laughter. The man in question only hummed in response, his hooded eyes heavy with nothing that spoke of fatigue. The whisky colour of his eyes appeared blown almost completely black by the dilation of his pupils, and he licked over his lips in what looked like anticipation of a hearty meal.

That meal was you…

Any protest you might have offered died in your throat when he claimed your mouth like a man possessed. His tongue curled over your teeth, pushing the memory of champagne into the space he dominated and greedily swallowing your answering moan. His forearms bracketed your head, keeping you caged and unable to run from him, not that you had any desire to, not when you could feel the press of his cock thickening against your lower half.

Loosening the knot of his tie with one finger, you took the moment to grab fistfuls of the shirt at his back, tugging the tails out of his trousers and sliding your palms beneath the starched surface to scratch along his spine. Hiromi shuddered, the disconnect of your lips an audible pop that left a web of saliva between you, only breaking with a quick swipe of your pink tongue.

“I don’t even have my make-up or hair done, you beast!” The half-hearted protest fell on deaf ears, or so you thought when his mouth moved to your neck and down to your collarbone, sucking little blooming lovebites on his journey. When he reached the abundant swell of your breasts, he glanced up whilst his tongue pathed across the top of your left breast, dipping into the valley between and then resuming the path over the right.

“You think I need face paint or styled hair to love you more? Fuck, sweetheart… I nearly came in my briefs the minute I opened the door.” The length of his aquiline nose nudged between your breasts, nuzzling the soft mounds like a cat warming by the fire. Carding your fingers through his hair, you wriggled beneath him and let out a breathy sigh, the weight and conviction of his love settling over you in perfect comfort. There would be no more argument from you, and Hiromi won for the second time that day.

With methodical slowness he kissed his way down your body, stopping to lave the sheer panels at either side of your abdomen and forcing you to arch from the warm sensation of his eager tongue. You’d barely managed to get his shirt off his shoulders before he was exploring you like this was his first time with your body. The white button-up hung down his back, sleeves caught by his elbows, and he made no move to strip it off much to your annoyance.

He stopped abruptly when he reached your pelvic mound, chin resting there whilst his fingers trailed the arch of your foot, up the inside of your calf and tickled behind your knee. “Stop that, mister!” You scolded with laughter threatening to bubble out.

“Spread ‘em and I will,” he challenged with a smirk.

The space between your freshly parted thighs became his home, an arm wound around your hip pawing at the fat of your thigh and the line where it met your arse, eliciting shivers that rippled over your skin like a calm lake disturbed by a skimming stone. He fingered the two snaps that kept the bodysuit in place, stroking firmly over your clothed cunt and pushing the barrier deeper until it started to feel sticky from your arousal. Looking all too smug, he freed the snaps with a grunt of satisfaction, sure that his next step would be to rip through the gusset of your raunchy fishnets so he could taste you. That moment never came.

You felt the vibration shudder through your husband, his head falling forward to obscure what you could see of his face, and you rocked your hips back and forth in invitation. The cool air of the room contrasted by the hot fan of his breath on your slit made you clench around a disappointing nothing, frowning at his sudden pause.

For a long moment, there was only silence. When he looked up, his expression nearly stole your breath. Thick black eyebrows pinched together, visible strain around his drooped eyes and a throaty whine made your pussy flutter with need. This was the Hiromi that only came out to play every now and again. The one who would wring you like a wet dish towel for just one more orgasm, one more mouthful of your hot nectar.

“Crotchless, really?” he murmured, dragging a finger across your puffy folds where the thin membrane of the tights should have resided and you nearly jolted upwards to the ceiling, having forgotten that little fact in the heat of the moment.

Cupping his cheek in your palm, you gave a cheeky wink. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about all the pairs of tights you’ve ruined over the years. These were just a… precaution.” Hiromi groaned, thrusting his face into your pussy without warning. The flat of his tongue ran the length of you, making you perfectly slippery in mere seconds, only for the tip of the wet muscle to fuck into your entrance immediately.

“Oh, fuck… Hiro!”

You yanked great tufts of his hair to no avail; he was lost to eating you out like a man starved. The prominent slope of his nose slid back and forth across your bundle of nerves, and it lit up your insides like the continuous explosion of miniature firecrackers.

Whining from his sudden onslaught, you tried to run by easing up the bed, but your attempts were shot down in flames by sharp insistent tugs of your hips. Hiromi was enthusiastic at the best of times when it came to going down on you, but it was nothing compared to right now. The wet squelching sucks of his lips and tongue flooded the bedroom, only being accompanied by your decadent moans and panting breaths as you tried not to lose your sanity entirely.

Hiromi was lost in you; the scent of your favourite body wash, the taste of your arousal when it trickled from your core mixed with the slight salt of your skin, the plush silk of your thighs beneath his prodding fingertips and the unrestrained noises that caressed his ears.

He almost missed your orgasm so clouded was his mind in the quest to turn you into a puddle of liquid goo for only his consumption. The wave of it crested through the length of your body, vibrating every limb and twitching each nerve ending. Your spine arched from the unmade sheets, the hand coiled tight in Hiromi’s hair spasming and tugging without even meaning to and that’s when he noticed. Without missing a beat, he wrapped his lips around your pulsing clit and sucked it deeper into his mouth.

Stars winked into your vision at being thrust from one orgasm directly into another so violently. Your pussy fluttered ceaselessly, a craving deep in your gut to be filled at all costs, yet right now all you could do was hold on for dear life whilst you bucked and rutted against your husband’s face, wetting it thoroughly. He nosed at your quaking thigh, sharp incisors nipping your yielding flesh until you yelped and tried to close your legs without success.

You became aware of movement, the absence of shoulders beneath your thighs and you blinked to find a desperate predator stripping off his clothes whilst prowling back and forth at the foot of the bed. Hiromi grasped his cock, tugging it down to the base to spread the leaked precum that continued to dribble from his cockhead. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he had already cum, but he was always the excitable type who would leak and leak until you did something about it, usually opting to take him down your throat until he convulsed and spilt everything he had to offer.

Your hand trailed lower down your body, fingers playing in the spit-soaked mess he’d left behind in his hurry to stand and strip. Hiromi whined; head cocked to the side as he watched you play idly with your puffy lips flooded with the surge of blood and circling your pert little pearl. He fucked his fist harder, the other hand rolling his heavy balls until his stomach sucked in and your nostrils flared in warning.

“C’mere mister lawyer, I don’t want you wasting your orgasm when it could be filling me nicely.”

How quickly the tables could turn. One minute he was the predator, pawing and demanding, taking what he wanted without question, and the next he was the prey. Trapped on his back with cheeks a ruddy hue and eyes that begged for clemency. Your much small hand encased his dick, twisting your palm on each upward stroke while you straddled him and rocked yourself against the balls he’d just been palming.

His hands shook with restraint as they reached for your breasts, filling his broad palms and massaging them until you dipped low to claim his lips. You could taste yourself on his tongue, in his mouth and the sensation empowered you, fucking his throbbing cock through your folds until he twitched and whimpered some more.

“Please… fuck. Need to be inside. Might not last. God, you’re so fucking sexy. Don’t deserve you.” Hiromi babbled every syllable, sounding drunk when there was little to no alcohol left in his system.

His fingertips dipped inside the cups of your bodysuit, tweaking at your nipples and you indulged his silent request by allowing him to fold the cups down and let the spill of your tits fill his face. With renewed vigour and enthusiasm, he mouthed at you and ran his tongue in circles around your nipples one at a time.

You keened at the familiar sensation, swept away by a current of pure indulgence when he moved to suckle you. It was the perfect moment to strike, with Hiromi distracted in flicking his tongue over and over, round and round your swollen bud, you guided him to notch at your entrance and slowly sank onto his needy dick. He grunted; his grip tightening on your waist, but he refused to come up for air, continuing to nudge his nose into your breast, lips pulling the nipple taut until he finally released with a gasp.

“Fuck, I love you. I love you more than I can express.”

Hiromi worshipped you with his gaze, eyes full of devotion and unbridled passion whilst you rode him steadily. The sticky pap pap pap of your pelvis meeting his was the soundtrack to your lovemaking, because beneath the sexy lingerie and the ideas you had planned for the weekend, that’s what this was and always would be. You knew he didn’t need the extra faff to love you with his whole heart. You knew that he was aroused by you simply walking through the kitchen in a pair of his boxers.

You knew he loved you for you.

His dappled cheeks darkened further, the furrow of his brow telling of how he was trying to stave off his release, but you wanted him as undone as you had been, and you would not be denied. Leaning forward, your palms found purchase on his shoulders, breasts bouncing freely in time with your hips, and you squeezed around his shaft until the vein in his temple popped and he let out a guttural groan.

Hiromi grabbed around your middle, flipping you up and over so that he could thrust himself into overstimulation without hindrance. Pressing your thighs to your chest, you heard the telltale rip and knew that another pair of tights had fallen victim to Higuruma Hiromi despite your best efforts to keep them safe. His swollen cock pumped thick spurts of his milky cum against your cervix, filling you to the brim yet continuing to sloppily thrust in and out.

“-cum again… gotta—fuckkk. You’re so tight,” he bit through the words, fighting the steady burn of overstimulation to see you orgasm for the third time and you were close. A glob of spit landed against your clit, thick fingers shaking from exertion rubbing the frothy mess into you with insistent motions. He was a man possessed, falling apart for him was as easy as drawing breath and he caught you on your free fall.

You chanted his name in some semblance of a prayer, thrashing and clawing at anything you could reach until you milked him again and he lost the ability to hold himself up. Hiromi fell atop you, his face pressed into the juncture between your neck and shoulder, hot shuddering moans stifled by his mouth on your neck while he weakly tried to bear some of his weight onto an arm.

“Stop squirming, you’re not that heavy, Hiro,” you teased with a light slap against his back.

Once you could both speak without sounding winded, you combed your fingers through his sweat-dampened hair, moving the strands that stuck to his forehead away until you could trace his eyebrows, his jaw, and the bridge of his nose. “Y’know… you ripped my tights—again.”

Hiromi chuckled, rubbing his cheek against your chest. “I did, and I’d do it again. Maybe give them a miss if we do this again, hm?”

“You liked the surprise then?”

“I already told you that I did, not that I needed it. All I ever need is you.”

It was your turn to chuckle, booping the tip of his nose. “Maybe when I show you the receipt, you’ll change your tune.”

“… sweetheart. How much did it cost? Don’t roll away, missy! Answer my question. Hey. Hey! You have to answer the lawyer when they ask a question.”

[rahuratna]

He's got the look

Part 1: Hitting like a Hammer

Content: crack, humour, fluff. Gojo being ... Gojo.

Satoru yawned as he bent at the waist, the top of his head coming into view in the bathroom mirror. He had always been one of those people. The ones who  could wake up every morning, looking what some would call 'deliciously disshevelled'. Stray strands of silver fell forward softly over his forehead, the pure, crystalline eyes blinking slowly as he took himself in.

Satoru was fully aware of how attractive he appeared to others, physically speaking. While he didn't place much store by it, he did like looking his best, even if it was largely concealed under the blindfold. Eyes roving over the rippling muscle of his torso with a kind of satisfied disinterest, he sighed and was about to reach for his toothbrush, when something on his head caught his attention.

Were those ... split ends? And why was his hair looking distinctly duller in hue than normal? Considering his cursed technique, Satoru was seldom affected by environmental conditions. Winter was coming? No problem. It was particularly humid out that day? He'd still stroll along, unaffected, while people wilted around him like soggy paper towels. It was raining? Hello, built-in umbrella.

So, if there was an issue with his hair, it must be internal. Was he not getting enough of the necessary vitamins in his diet? Was all the sugar finally catching up with him? Unthinkable.

Still, something had to be done.

Contrary to how things seemed to others, Satoru worked exceptionally hard in his role as a sorcerer. Difficult missions didn't take quite so much time and effort when you were the self-proclaimed strongest. Thus, there was not much time to spoil himself.

Today, however, was a very rare, relaxed Sunday. He'd have to take action. There was only one person he trusted with his hair. Retrieving his phone from the counter, Gojo typed in a quick message and hummed slightly, applying moisturizer to his face as he waited for a reply.

"How? How can this be?"

"Er ... Gojo-sensei?"

"Yuuji! This is a disaster!"

"Whoa, whoa. What is?"

"My hair stylist! He's injured his back and won't be back for six whole months. What will I do? How will I survive? Am I supposed to rid the world of curses while my hair looks like this?"

"Uh ... yeah?"

"Wrong answer!"

Yuuji raised his hands, laughing slightly at the stricken expression of his teacher.

"Okay, okay. Hey, here's an idea. You know who has really nice hair?"

"Who?"

"Nanamin! His hair is always nicely cut and ... shiny? Maybe ask him who he goes to."

Satoru huffed.

"If I wanted a seven three parting and a cut so severe I'd look like I was about to serve fifteen years in the gulags, I'd go see his barber."

In his apartment in the city, relaxing in the living room with a cup of coffee in hand, Nanami sneezed violently. Unaware of this distant repercussion, Satoru was tapping his chin thoughtfully.

"There is a replacement in for my stylist, though. They said he was young, but talented."

"Oh? Why don't we go check it out then? If your previous stylist trusted him enough to take over, then he must be good, right? We can see him in action and you can decide if you trust him enough to do your hair!"

"Hmm. All right. I'll go for it, Yuuji!"

Now in a decidedly better mood, Satoru mimed finger guns at his student.

"Let's hoof it."

The hair studio was located in Harajuku, a twenty minute walk from where they exited the subway. The trendy boutiques that lined the street caught Yuuji's eye, and he knew that Nobara would have loved to have come here.

When they reached the studio, both teacher and student paused, taking in the shop front.

"Uhhh, was that always ... "

"Nope. This is new."

" ... Gojo-sensei, maybe we should just call Nanamin and - "

"Now, now, Yuuji. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. Something Nanami has probably never said in his life."

"Hey! That's not very -"

Somewhere, in a neat cafe, Nanami burnt his tongue on his third cup of coffee for the day and uttered a soft 'fuck', before looking around to see if anyone had heard him.

Before Yuuji had a chance to defend the honour of his other mentor, Gojo had pushed open the door to the salon, whistling merrily. Pausing outside, Yuuji swallowed as a sensation of impending doom threatened to overtake him.

The facade that had been erected over the entryway was of a large and garish tornado, shaped into a classic pompadour, neon geometric shapes superimposed over it in what was clearly meant to be 'arty'. It reminded Yuuji of the anime he had been following religiously as a kid, Bobo's Bazaar Adventure. While he loved the show, he wasn't sure how effective it was in inspiring confidence as a hair studio. Shrugging slightly, he followed Gojo.

The interior was no less psychedelic. Assistants wearing bright pink rollerblades, clip-on angel wings and yellow overalls flew here and there, sweeping up fallen hair and delivering hot drinks while barely avoiding calamity. Hair stylists in chequered aprons snipped away at a frenetic pace, creating some of the most avant garde hairstyles Yuuji had ever seen. His eye was caught by a young woman with a purple up-do being shaped into a top hat and nearly collided with Gojo.

The moment Gojo entered, all eyes were drawn to him, of course. Today, the special grade sorcerer was wearing casual clothes, a dark jacket over a white t-shirt that clung to his very toned abdomen, fitted jeans in black that made his legs look like they'd been airbrushed in real life, and a pair of horrifically expensive sneakers. Gojo cheerfully saluted, tapping the side of his sunglasses that had probably cost more than Yuuji's entire education.

"Yo! I'm Gojo, Maurice's usual customer. I was told to come in today to see Hattori?"

The new receptionist dragged her eyes away from Gojo's pectorals with an audible gulp and hurriedly turned to her computer, her fingernails clacking swiftly over the keys as a burning crimson blush arced over her nose.

"J - Just a moment, sir. Er, ah, yes. Gojo Satoru, correct?"

"That's me!"

"He'll be right with you. Let me call him. I think he's just finished with a client."

Gojo surveyed the studio with interest from behind his shades.

"So he doesn't work out here on the floor?"

"Oh, no. He has a private room upstairs where his personal clients see him. Give me a moment."

She lifted a hot pink receiver and spoke in hushed tones into it. After a few minutes of waiting, she waved to the stairway behind her.

"Go on up. He's ready for you."

The room they entered was obviously supposed to be some sort of den of intense creativity. The matte grey walls were covered with modern art pieces in neon shades, humanoid figures distinguishable in the sinuous, branching tracks of colour. A giant window, forming a one-way looking glass, took up most of the outer wall, showcasing a stunning vista of the city below.

A single styling station, the mirror, chair and stands for various paraphernalia, stood alone and stark in the centre of the room, surrounded by the large fanning leaves of tropical plants. Flowers that Yuuji had never seen before provided bursts of colour where they hung from the ceiling in coconut mesh.

There was a woman, presumably the previous client, who was sitting before the mirror. Yuuji stared. Her hair was coiffed and curled in some kind of artistic representation of a rose, the layers tinted in colours ranging from dark crimson to the finest blush of the sky at dawn, creating a depth and dimensionality that anyone would be hard put to find in a painting, let alone on someone's hair.

The man standing behind her flitted about like a hummingbird at a flower, his slightly high-pitched voice rising and falling as he spoke a litany of encouragement to himself. Upon their entry, he hadn't even turned his head.

Gojo seemed content to stand and wait, so Yuuji cleared his throat slightly. Immediately, the stylist (who must be Hattori) froze and turned, a slightly crazed expression on his narrow, pinched features. Yuuji recoiled, but when Hattori's eyes moved across to Gojo, the change in the atmosphere of the room was palpable.

The stylist threw his scissors to one side, eyes opening wide, expression even more manic than before. The client who had been seated before him had to duck as the blades passed dangerously close to her face. Coming forward in a zig zag, as if pausing at different angles to take in Gojo completely, the man approached.

Close up, Yuuji could see that he didn't look in the best of health. His skin was dry and his lips cracked, the lines standing out at the corners of his eyes, even though he probably wasn't more than a few years older than Gojo. His bleached blonde hair bore the brittle look of many dye-jobs, and his fingernails were stained. He bore a striking contrast to the image projected in the rest of the studio.

Nevertheless, he was looking at Gojo like he was the Mona Lisa come to life. The lady seated at the mirror cleared her throat.

"Thank you Hattori, I'm - "

"Yes, yes, you're done now."

"Well, I just - "

"Speak to the front desk for the care routine." He dismissed her with a wave of his hand that left her gaping. "Now, who, who, who do we have here?"

"Gojo Satoru. I hear you've taken over from Maurice. I was a client of his for many years."

"Ahhh. Maurice, my dear mentor. Such a tragedy about his back injury. Can't even stay upright for longer than five minutes. Now, on to more important things, namely, you."

Hattori had now sidled right up to Gojo, his manic expression never toning down in intensity. The sorcerer in turn, regarded him with his usual good natured condescension. The woman with rose-like hair was now scurrying out of the room, scandalized. Yuuji watched her leave nervously. He didn't like being in this room. Everything just seemed weird and wrong.

"But ... I have to say... Maurice certainly kept you a closely guarded secret. Gojo, you say? No. No, I've never heard him speak that name. But look at you! You're... just ... a ... I have no words. Look at this shade of hair! Look at your jawline! Your facial structure! Superb. Superb. A true muse. Yes. A ... oh, this is .... wait. I must ... inspiration  has struck!"

Scurrying over to the styling stand, Hattori withdrew a notebook and pencil from the drawer, flipping open the book and beginning to sketch as if his life depended on it, his hair standing slightly on end, as if it had a consciousness of its own. Gojo raised his hand.

"Can't I just request my usual? Maurice always - "

"Usual? Usual?"

Hattori almost dropped the book in his hand.

"Dearest Gojo, please, never, never use the word 'usual' to refer to anything regarding yourself again!"

Gojo rubbed the back of his head and grinned.

"I mean, yeah, I know I'm exceptional, but - "

"Not just exceptional!" There were tiny, red capillaries standing out in the whites of Hattori's eyes now. Yuuji crept a little closer to Gojo.

"No, exceptional is too bland a word. I can't believe that Maurice kept you from me."

Yuuji could think of several reasons.

"Now let's see. Yes, yes, that would be - come and have a seat! I'll get started!"

"But I haven't told you - "

"Forget everything you know! I am Hattori, and I am inspired by a muse above all others ... you! Gojo Satoru! I will do with your hair what nobody has ever attempted before!"

Yuuji cleared his throat, speaking loud enough for only Gojo to hear.

"Uh, sensei ... "

"I know. Relax, Yuuji. I'll handle this."

Gojo pulled out his phone and typed a quick message, before sauntering over to the styling station.

"All right then, Hattori. I place myself in your capable hands."

Hattori chose, at that moment, to finally glance over in Yuuji's direction. He froze, eyes opening to dimensions that defied the basics of human anatomy.

"Wait. What ... what is that?"

Gojo looked over, confused.

"Oh, that's my student. Itadori - "

"No! That! The colour!"

Hattori was positively shrieking by now, and Yuuji laughed nervously, backing away.

"Uh, are you talking about my hair colour?"

"Yes! What kind of... of ... monstrosity is this? Salmon pink? In that single shade? No highlights? What were you thinking, boy?"

"What do you mean? This is my natural colour?"

Hattori laughed, tears of rather demented mirth gathering at the corners of his eyes.

"Natural? What are you? Some kind of anime character?"

Gojo sighed.

"Oi, oi, oi. I'll trouble you not to pick on my precious student. What's he got to do with my hair anyway? Isn't that what we're here for?"

"He needs to go! He's going to taint the whole process with his presence!"

Gojo's cheerful demeanor changed in the blink of an eye. His smile disappeared and in its place was a kind of terrifying calm that made the room grow slightly colder. Hattori looked over at him and quailed.

"Uh, but if, as you say, he is your student, then I can ... make an exception for a favoured client such as yourself."

As the stylist scurried over to Gojo, Yuuji let out a soft breath as he mentally confirmed his suspicions. Unlike a regular person, Hattori had only reacted to Gojo's ire when there had been a change in his cursed energy signature. Hattori was certainly aware that Gojo was a sorcerer. And the hair stylist himself... was not all he seemed on the surface.

Certainly, there was no immediate danger to someone as powerful as Gojo. But Hattori looked unhinged enough to try almost anything. Yuuji kept his eyes on the erratic movements of the man as he darted here and there around Gojo, hands reaching out like the darting tendrils of a sea anemone as he touched and caressed Gojo's hair.

Creepy.

But Yuuji would have his sensei's back, even if his own strength was not needed.

As if sensing his serious mood, Gojo glanced over at him while Hattori whipped out a black bib and tied it around the sorcerer's neck with a flourish.

"Hey Yuuji, why the long face? I guess I'll have an exciting style soon. Something Nanami's never had in his life."

"Oh come on, sensei, you don't know that."

"I do. He was my underclassmen, remember?"

"Well ... what if he had something exciting while he was a salaryman?"

There was silence in the room for a while. Yuuji sighed.

"Okay. You win this one."

Nanami kept his eyes on the woman with rose-coloured hair, following her from a discreet distance. His plain jeans and sweater were helping him blend seamlessly into the crowd, along with the newspaper clutched in his hand and the fifth cup of coffee for the day. He really needed to cut back.

He was a little grumpy, to be honest. Here he was, enjoying his peaceful day at a cafe, when Gojo had messaged, asking him to investigate possible curse activity related to a woman with distinct rose-styled hair, somewhere near a salon in Harajuku. Nanami had hurried to the predicted co-ordinates and managed to spot the woman in question right before she boarded the subway.

It wasn't hard to determine who Gojo had been talking about. Besides the ... really spectacular hairstyle she sported, there was a horrific amount of cursed energy whirling about her frame, concentrated around her hair.

Nanami suddenly felt that same unbearable itch in his nose from earlier in the day and sneezed heavily, whipping out his handkerchief.

Why did this keep happening? Was he coming down with something? 

[roosterforme]

A Love You Don't Find Everyday Part 13 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You take Bradley's credit card with you to shop for honeymoon attire and decide to give him sneak previews along the way. Then, you make another video to ensure he's well entertained on his deployment.

Warnings: Smut, angst, fluff, and swearing

Length: 3500 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Check out my masterlist for more!

You were enjoying the most leisurely day, strolling around the mall completely solo. You'd sent Bradley off to play golf at seven o'clock with just a peck on the cheek, and then you'd gone back to bed until nine. Now you were sipping an iced coffee and eating a gigantic cinnamon bun, trying to psych yourself up to try on a bunch of lingerie. 

There were some really beautiful things in the window display, and you definitely wanted to run up a large credit card bill for Bradley. But the fluorescent lighting in the fitting rooms always made you cringe. While you told him last night that you'd send him some photos today, you weren't so sure now. The idea of teasing him with some pictures of honeymoon lingerie where all of your imperfections were highlighted had you grimacing. 

"Maybe it won't be so bad," you murmured to yourself as you tossed your trash and headed into the store. 

Thirty minutes later, you had been set up in a fitting room with a plethora of things to try on. You ran your fingers along satin, lace and silk in every color of the rainbow, but especially a little heavy on the red.

"Okay. Showtime." You stripped all of your clothes off and tried not to look in the mirror as you pulled on a stretchy, red lace mini dress. "Holy shit," you muttered, finally looking in the mirror. Everything looked pretty good, even in the bad lighting. Bradley would probably love this one. 

You snapped a few pictures and selected the best one, texting it to him before you could change your mind. You added the caption:

Let's play a game. Rate all of these on a scale of 1 to 10, and I'll buy some of your favorites. 

As soon as you were fastening a black bra, he wrote back.

Bradley Rooster Bradshaw <3 <3 <3: holy shit, i almost walked into a sand trap while i was looking at that. 10/10!

You laughed and added the first item to the keeper pile. Then you snapped a few shots of the black bra that you actually loved and could pair with matching crotchless panties. When you sent a photo and asked what he thought about that, you cackled when he responded. 

Bradley Rooster Bradshaw <3 <3 <3: 10/10! for the love of god, i need you to get that set. promise me right now. 

You promised him you'd get it and added it to the keeper pile. When you sent a photo of a white bridal set complete with garters and stockings, he sent back a selfie of himself in the golf cart with his jaw hanging open and his eyes wide. 

Bradley Rooster Bradshaw <3 <3 <3: don't make me beg. i need to be able to take that off you. 11/10.

You were having so much fun with him, but you simply replied by reminding him to reapply sunblock. And then he wrote back begging for more pictures. You tried on one set in both purple and red and asked which one he liked better.

Bradley Rooster Bradshaw <3 <3 <3: red. always red. but get the purple too. does it come in other colors? 12/10. you are killing me here. gotta play six more holes with my dick kinda hard.

You decided to take photos of everything else you were trying on, and send them sporadically throughout the rest of the afternoon while he and the guys were out drinking. You took the massive pile of things you and he both liked to the register, along with something special for tonight. 

"Wow, you found a lot today!" said the cashier and you just laughed. 

"It's mostly for my honeymoon."

"Congratulations! I guess you don't plan on leaving the hotel room with your spouse at all?" she asked with a grin.

You pressed your lips together before muttering, "That's the plan."

She snorted and told you about the boutique website where you could order personalized items as well. "Here, I'll give you a free shipping code. Your total is one thousand two hundred and twenty seven dollars."

You handed her Bradley's credit card with a satisfied smirk. If he wanted you to run up his credit card bill with this stuff, you'd add some personalized items when you got home and make it even worse. 

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

Bradley felt overstimulated and twitchy. You were an absolute menace, sending him photo after photo all day long. You were wearing bras that showed everything. You were wearing sheer dresses that hugged your curves. You were wearing panties that showed off your tattoo. He saved each new image as they arrived, already thinking about using them to jerk off while he was deployed in a few weeks. 

"Why are you so distracted?" Jake asked as Bradley saved a photo of you wearing a red string bikini with the side tied above your tattoo. "Oh, Angel's sending you porn."

Bradley hid his phone screen and glared. "It's not porn," Bradley said, glancing at the photo again. The top was barely covering your nipples. He licked his lips and said, "It's just a bathing suit." 

"That looked like less than a bathing suit," Jake replied, switching out his five iron. 

"Stop looking at it!" Bradley grunted. 

"Stop looking at what?" Payback asked, adjusting his gloves. 

Jake nodded toward Bradley's phone. "His girl sent him dirty photos."

"Lucky," echoed Fanboy, Coyote and Payback in perfect unison.

"They are not dirty photos. She's out shopping," he said, not sure what he was trying to defend here. You were about to become his wife. You loved each other. Nothing was actually inappropriate. "You know what, yeah. She's sending me dirty photos." All the guys put their fists out for a fist bump, except for Bob who was blushing and rummaging around in his golf bag looking for his putter. 

"Come on, Bob," Payback called. "This is fist bump worthy!"

Bob just shook his head. "Don't you guys remember when she yelled at us for being crude? She literally lined us up in their living room and ripped us apart. I'm showing nothing but respect."

"Oh shit, I remember," Coyote said. "It's why we're all jealous of Rooster. She's protective."

Bradley just grinned and passed out some cans of beer for them to all drink during the end of their round of golf.

"Eighteenth hole," he announced, tucking his phone away. "Then bar hopping."

The guys all cheered and headed toward the tee.

And this was precisely why Bradley had always preferred to hang around with Nat. Because even when he was just hooking up with women, back before he met you, he never liked the banter and always tried to keep things like this private. 

Bradley played the last hole terribly as you sent him another photo of you wearing a few scraps of black fabric with garters while he was trying to putt. You were so pretty, bright eyes looking at the camera as if you were really looking at him. He wanted to skip out on the afternoon of drinking, but he knew the guys would never let him live it down. 

So he told you he would be home after they went to the steakhouse for dinner, and you told him not to rush. Apparently you had some online shopping to do.

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

You were going way overboard now with Bradley's credit card, but you couldn't help yourself. This website had the most adorable satin underwear that you could personalize with anything you wanted. You were up to five pairs in your shopping cart and counting. Your favorite ones were going to be embroidered with Daddy's Baby Girl. You even decided to get a blue thong with Mrs. Bradshaw across the front to go under your wedding dress, even though you weren't sure about changing your name yet. 

You yawned and figured you should probably do something with your day besides shop for expensive underwear. So you took Tramp for a walk to the bay, emailed your wedding photographer, did some meal prepping, and made yourself a grilled cheese sandwich doused in hot sauce for dinner. Then you carefully hand washed some of your new lingerie and set aside the items you were going to wear tonight. 

Bradley Rooster Bradshaw <3 <3 <3: i'll be home soon, baby girl. jake's dropping me off

You quickly got changed into the pastel pink bustier and matching thong and pulled your jeans back on. With a grin, you decided the bustier could pass for a top and just left your outfit at that. Tramp started barking as Jake pulled into the driveway, and a moment later, Jake was following Bradley inside. 

"I told you to reapply sunblock!" you said immediately, taking in both sunburned men. "You guys look like lobsters."

Bradley wrapped his arms around you and started kissing your neck. "It's just a little pink," he insisted, running his fingers along your top and smiling. "You look pretty."

"And you look sweaty and smell like cheap beer."

"You love cheap beer," Bradley insisted, making you laugh.

"How much did you drink?"

He nodded his head and sighed. "Plenty. But I'm fine, Sweetheart."

Jake walked past and messed up your hair on his way to the kitchen. "I'm just getting some water and then I'm leaving," he insisted. "I can tell the Bradshaws need some time alone."

"Never stopped you from hanging around and being annoying before," Bradley told him as he looked down at your chest with interest. "Did you buy this today?" he asked softly. "You must have. I know your inventory by heart."

You nodded. "Do you like it?"

"Mmhmm."

"Feel like making another video?"

"Hell yes."

"Go get in the shower, Roo."

You watched him dash into your bedroom just as Jake walked back out of the kitchen with a water bottle. "I'm not gonna stay, Angel," Jake drawled, taking a sip of water. "Just wanted to say you looked real nice in that red bikini," he said, ducking out of the way of your hand aiming to smack him.

"How did you see it?" you asked, pushing him toward the front door while he howled with laughter. 

"He had his phone out all day, mooning over the smut you were sending him! It was right there on the screen!"

"Go away. Goodbye. Thanks for driving Bradley home. See you on Monday," you said, pecking him on the cheek before shoving him out the door. 

By the time you got to your bedroom, Bradley was walking out of the ensuite with a towel wrapped around his waist. He was sunburned and tipsy and so endearingly adorable, you started giggling. 

"My phone battery is almost dead, Baby Girl. Please tell me yours is good to go," he said, leaning against the doorframe, looking at you with one eyebrow raised. 

"Yep, My phone is good to go. Are you good to go, Roo? I can't tell if your cheeks are rosy from the sunburn or the drinks," you said, teasing his abs with your fingers. 

"I'm always good to go for you," he promised, and you knew it was the truth. 

You unwrapped the yellow towel from his waist and licked your lips at the sight of him half hard. "Go get in bed," you whispered, and he was on his way. He watched you shimmy out of your jeans and grab your phone. You crawled up the bed next to him and whispered, "You want me to be your bratty little slut again tonight? Or are you going to be my Daddy?"

He pulled you close and kissed you. "I get to choose?" 

"Yeah," you told him with a wink. "A special treat to take on your deployment."

He was rubbing his hands along your bustier and down over your butt. "Well, I already have a video with my bratty little slut," he said, and you watched his cock jump against his thigh. "Daddy wants to play tonight. You look like a little princess in this color."

You moaned against his mouth. "Sounds good to me," you said, fiddling with your phone and letting him hold it as he started recording you. You watched Bradley grin as he pushed your underwear aside a bit to record you shaking your hips with your tattoo exposed. "Did you just call me a princess?" 

"Yeah," he grunted as you wrapped your hand around his length. "Daddy's little princess, all pretty in pink."

For a moment you marveled over the fact that you had an easier time slipping into the role of a bratty little slut. But after a moment of wiggling yourself along his body, you thought you had the hang of Daddy's princess.

"Daddy, I had such a long day," you said, a whine tingeing the edges of your voice as you straddled his lap and ran your fingers along your lace and satin covered torso. "I am exhausted from spending your money."

Bradley groaned softly, setting goosebumps loose across your skin. "Tell me what you bought, Princess," Bradley instructed, grinding his cock against the front of your panties. He ran his thumb along your bottom lip, parting them and coaxing you to lick the tip. "And then tell Daddy he's allowed to do whatever he wants with you."

You sucked on his thumb. Bradley was the hottest thing in the world. As you listed off some of the things you bought with his credit card, Bradley gently wrapped one hand around the front of your neck and then pulled the pink fabric of your underwear to the side, letting his cock glide through your wetness. You only briefly recognized that he had propped your phone up to record everything before you got lost in him completely. 

"And how much of my money did you spend, Princess?" he asked, his raspy voice making you even wetter as he licked his lips. 

"Two thousand dollars," you gasped as his big hand slipped lower on your neck and trailed over the tops of your breasts. 

He tsked with his tongue and shook his head. "That's not enough."

"I was supposed to spend more?" you asked, your voice breaking as Bradley slipped his cock inside you. He yanked you closer with his fingers on the back of your neck, and you gasped as he started kissing you. 

"You were supposed to spend all of it. Why does Daddy even work, other than to pamper you, Baby Girl?" You squeezed around his cock just at the mere implication of his words. 

"Are you going to take care of me forever?" you asked softly against his lips as you rode him slowly. He responded by swiping his tongue deep into your mouth and making you moan. 

"As long as you take care of Daddy."

You were whimpering now as your clit was grinding against him with each movement. 

"You can have anything you want," you promised him. And you felt it before you saw it. Bradley ripped the crotch of your pretty, new underwear to get full access to your pussy. He was suddenly fucking up into you hard, the veins in his neck and forehead prominent against his slightly sunburned skin.

"Oh my god!" you hissed, surprised by what he had done. 

But no sooner had you recovered before he was smacking your thighs gently and saying, "Up. Turn around and get on all fours."

You did as you were told, watching his wet length slide out of you, wishing you were allowed to lick him. But that's not what Daddy wanted. 

When you were on your hands and knees in front of him, he pushed your face down against the bedding before kissing and licking all along your wet slit and rear end from behind. 

"You didn't listen, Princess," he said before lapping his tongue against you. "Gotta spank you."

He landed one hard slap on your butt before you could even respond. "Daddy," you whined as he spanked you again and again. You felt feverish with need while he spanked you and scolded you for not spending enough money on honeymoon attire. You were clenching around nothing as he told you to go back to the store and replace the underwear that was now just a piece of elastic around your waist. 

He spanked you harder as he said, "If you're my Princess, you can have anything you want."

"I want you to fuck me!" you almost screamed as his hand landed on you again. But you knew he wasn't going to do that yet. Rather he lightly spanked your pussy from behind, his fingers hitting your wet clit as you whined. 

Then he shoved two long fingers deep inside you without warning and leaned up to press his lips to your neck right below your ear. You almost cried when he whispered, "What's my name?"

"Daddy!" Your broken yell filled the room. "I want you to fuck me, Daddy!"

His cock replaced his fingers immediately, and he fucked you hard, your cheek pressing into the bed. But the spanking only paused momentarily. He grabbed you around your waist with his left hand, getting a handful of you just below your bustier while he landed a stinging slap on your already overworked skin. All while slamming into you. 

"You didn't do what Daddy wanted."

"Please." You were almost crying, and you wanted to cum so badly. "I'll do whatever you want."

"You go back to the store and spend more money. I want you wearing something new for me each day on our honeymoon. No exceptions." 

You tried your best to verbally agree with him, and soon he wrapped his fingers around to tease your clit instead of spank you. With just a few swipes of his talented fingers, you came hard, a few of your tears trailing along your nose to the bedding. 

The familiar sound of Bradley cumming inside your pussy had you smiling at last as he filled you up. He wrapped both arms around you and yanked you up flush against his chest. "You really are Daddy's little Princess, Baby GIrl."

You moaned softly as he kissed along your bare shoulder. "Occasionally I'm your bratty little slut."

"I love you," he promised, and he let you lay against him as he eased back against the pillows, his cock still buried inside you.

"My ass is throbbing, Roo," you whispered with a soft laugh as he ran his mustache along your neck. 

"But you did so good. I'll get you in the bath in a minute, Sweetheart."

You just relaxed back into his embrace while he touched and kissed you. "I hope you enjoy that video while you're deployed." You kissed along his tattoo and ran the tip of your nose across the pretty script writing.

"I can guarantee I will," he promised, finally reaching for your phone to end the video. 

You turned and smiled at him when he said, "And now I have several minutes of us cuddling together to watch as well. I might watch that part the most."

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

Bradley scooped you up and carried you to the bathroom, setting you on the edge of the tub while he got the water ready for you. He wasn't kidding; he'd always do his best to take care of you and give you anything you wanted. Because you tried to take care of him, too. And you were really all he wanted. 

"Climb in, Sweetheart," he whispered, and he watched you unfasten what was left of that sinfully hot lingerie and sink into the water. "I'm sorry I ripped your underwear."

You started laughing as you turned to look at him. "You're not sorry!"

He grimaced. "I'm a little bit sorry. Buy a new one. You still have my credit card." He knelt on the floor next to the tub and helped you get settled.

"I'll buy a new one next week when I go back to the store to ensure I have something new to wear for all ten days of our honeymoon. Daddy told me I had to."

Bradley actually felt himself blushing. He liked it when you called him that even when it wasn't exactly part of foreplay or bedroom activities. You were making him feel so substantial in your life. 

"Roo, next weekend is Halloween," you whispered as he sat on the floor and watched you wash your arms while Tramp curled up in his lap. "Gotta start planning our party."

"We're really having it? I thought maybe you brought that up just to distract Cam and Maria from the wedding conversation?" he absentmindedly stroked Tramp's ears, completely mesmerized by you. 

"We're really having it. And I know just what our costumes can be," you said with a playful look in your eye.

"Tell me," he whispered, leaning toward you and kissing your nose. 

"Well... I think you can get away with wearing part of your dress whites for your costume..."

He smiled. "Okay, sounds good so far. I love it when you take my uniforms off of me. But what's your costume?"

You just chuckled and said, "Oh, you'll like it. And it comes with three wishes for me to grant for you."

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

Making another video....oof, I love them. Happy Halloween? Any costume guesses?

PART 14

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[cinnamon-girl-writes]

what should've been (you) . . . geto x reader

he can't leave without you, or: geto tries to convince you to come with him after he defects from jujutsu.

angst, geto x reader, set during gojo's past arc, canon compliant

by @cinnamon-girl-writes

Two months. That's how long it's been since you've seen Suguru last.

You'll never forget the moment Yaga called the second years into his office to deliver the news that an entire village had been massacred by your best friend. The boy you'd devoted yourself to for the past two years of your life.

Yaga had given the three of you specific orders not to go after him, particularly for Gojo, who likes to fix everything by himself. And since then, you'd been forced to carry on like everything normal. Attending classes, training your technique, spending your weekends with your friend group that was one short.

You'd almost forgot about him-- no, not forgotten, you could never forget-- you'd almost been able to think about anything else when one afternoon, you used your day off to go shopping in Harajuku district alone. Shoko encouraged you, saying it would be therapeutic to have some time to yourself. Everyone, including her, knew that you were taking this extremely hard.

How could he just leave, with no warning? He had seemed a little off for the past couple of months, but nothing unusual for a jujutsu sorcerer; you had figured the job was just getting to him. But he was still gone, and you were still figuring out your life without him.

Obviously, you and Suguru weren't anything official. In the lives you had, it wasn't wise to get too close to the people around you. Things happen, people die. Time and distance can do things to people, especially once you got attached.

But you refused to say that it was nothing. The way you shared a cup of black coffee at midnight when neither of you could sleep. Lying sprawled out on the grass next to eachother after an exhausting training session, both of you being too worn out to get off the ground. The way he held you after Haibara died. He may have forgotten the way you felt, but you never would. You couldn't.

The train comes to a stop at your station. You gather your few belongings and exit the train, climbing the steps into the sunlit day. It was nice outside, crisp and refreshing. You found yourself being immensly grateful for the fresh air.

Your first stop was a small boutique you'd found online that specialized in handmade items. You'd been looking forward to going there for weeks and you found your spirits lifting. Unfortunately, the shop was a few miles away from your train stop, so you'd have to walk.

You made your way down the crowded sidewalk, being sure to stay on the correct side so not to interfere with the traffic. It seemed like the city was busier than usual today, bustling with families and tourists and groups of teenagers out shopping on the nice day.

You come to a stop at the traffic light, taking in how many people there are. You wonder about each of their stories; do they have families? Friends, jobs?

"Y/n."

A voice calls your name from behind you. It's deep and rich and warm as summer air.

You turn. You know that voice, and it knows you. Suguru.

And there he stands, just a few feet in front of you, his long black hair falling down his back. You take note of his new hairstyle; before, it was almost always up.

Of course, lots of things are different than before.

A small grin begins to play upon his lips. "I've been wanting to see you. It seems you've appeared at the perfect time."

The light turns for pedestrians to walk. The world shifts around you, and yet you can't find yourself able to move.

"How have you been?" he asks.

What? What kind of question is that? That's what you say to your best friend girlfriend soulmate friend after leaving and commiting genocide?

And you hate yourself for it, but you can't leave. You can't ignore him and walk away and not listen.

Your brain screams at you to demand answers, but you don't.

A pause. "I miss you."

His smile seemed to falter a little then. What was he thinking?

"About that, there's something I'd like to ask you," he muses, smile returning. "Can we go somewhere a little more comfortable?"

Against your better judgement, you follow him down the sidewalk, staying a few steps behind him. You want to reach out for his hand. You don't.

You end up in a small restaurant with white paint on the exterior and wide, framed windows. He finds a table near the back, informing the waiter that you'll need a few minutes before ordering.

"I've been wanting to invite you to join me."

To join him? In commiting crimes against innocent people? You want to. You want to say yes, to leave here with him. You think that, if you never saw Jujutsu High again, you'd be alright as long as you were with Suguru.

He wanted you. He came back for you. He didn't do that for anyone else. A part of you wanted to be happy, but you knew you couldn't trust him.

"Suguru," you paused for a second, looking in his eyes. You searched them for some sign of cruelty, something to tell you that this was all just some elaborate trap. You found none. "You know I can't."

"But don't you want to?" He leaned in, "I want you by my side. I want to fix this world with you there."

"You killed innocent people!" you retaliate. "And I loved you! I wanted to spend every minute of my life with you. But I can't love a murderer."

He winces. You know you're words have hurt him because he has no response.

He stands. "There was a time when I loved you too. But I've moved on. I have better things in my life now." And just as quickly as he came, he strode out of the cafe and was gone.

You couldn't breathe, you couldn't think. You felt like your mind was completely blank. Tides of pain crashed into you and you feel yourself shaking. You couldn't go back to school like this. How could you tell Gojo that his best friend had come to you and not him? That there wasn't some mistake, there wasn't a catch? That he was truly never coming back?

So you stay there, folded over the table with your hands covering your eyes. This was your final goodbye.

[ihugzminseo]

needed me. pjh x reader. part I.

pairing : toxic!gf!jihyo x afab!reader

synopsis: 5 years. 5 years of hell to you, 5 years of sadism to her. 5 whole years, you and jihyo have been on and off. why? she's toxic. it's completely insufferable the way she treats you, because she just treats you so badly. that is, outside of bed. god, she's so good in bed. but the on and off is too much, so you decide to leave her. for all. as you said the previous three times. so, you inevitably come crawling back, because you both know deep down, you need her.

warning : non-idol au, unnie!jihyo (jihyo is 27, reader is 25), slight s&m, possessive!gf!jihyo

word count : 0.7k

a/n : this is the first (of many) songfics!! this fic is heavily inspired by needed me by rihanna (hence the title ykyk); 

to feel a little more, and give a little less. know you hate to confess, but baby, ooh, you needed me.

disclaimer : this fic has been on the brain for a while, but PLEASE, for the love of all things sacred, do NOT by any means depend on a partner, especially one that's toxic. speaking from experience, it crushes you. seek the help needed, and do not lean on them. at all. this is a work of art, and does not depict any real life instances.

october 2nd. today would've been you and jihyo's five year anniversary. and hypothetically, it is. because this is the day you two got together. for the first time. you weren't fond of college, so you applied for a part time job as a boutique assistant. you've worked at this boutique for nearly eight years, and jihyo was a fairly frequent customer. from her long dark hair, to her big doll-like eyes, to her sweet-as-honey voice, you were in love.

you could go on and on about what you loved about her. her hair looked so healthy, you hated big eyes but godthey suited her so well, her figure was everything you aspired for, her style was top tier but most of her clothes were from the boutique you worked at anyways, her voice was so sweet sounding it drove you crazy. and most of all, she always came directly to your register. not your coworkers, you. and god forbid you were out one day, she'd have another one of your coworkers hold whatever she was planning to check out that day and she'd come back when you came back.

it seemed like the people around you could sense the chemistry between you and jihyo before either of you even sensed it yourself. jihyo had only been shopping there for four or five years, but she was so inclined to walk right over to you, as if she'd known you since day one. and a stranger would think you had on really tacky makeup with the way you blushed everytime she came around.

the two of you initially only engaged in small talk, but that led to the two of you having genuine conversations while you checked her out, like you were two best friends meeting over coffee. and she was just such a sweetheart, it damn near hurt.

she'd smile and nod while you spoke, pretty long lashes batting against her cheekbones when she blinked. and when she spoke? you could listen to her forever. she spoke slowly, almost sensually, and that smile she'd had while on the receiving end of the conversation never faded. she would "unintentionally" touch your hand while handing you her card, feeling the rough prongs of all your rings against her soft hands.

and one day, she slid you something while you took her card. a sheet of paper. "call me? XXX-XXXX-XXXX ♡" . didn't even take you a second to reread it, just a glance up mimicking her sweet smile and a mouthed "you got it".

in all honesty, you hadn't really expected her to pick up. you'd expected to listen to that eardrum-bursting ringing sound for the next 20 seconds before you were eventually told to leave her a message. but, it was definitely a bit of a shock to hear that honey-like voice answer the call with a "aww, you remembered to call?". her voice was much raspier than usual, and she tripped over her words trying to say 'remembered'. jihyo was drunk, very obviously drunk at that.

"jihyo, you sound drunk. really drunk. are you alright?" did it feel right outwardly asking that? no, but it was on your mind so you did. what wasn't on your mind was hearing "you don't question your elders, y/nnie. im not drunk." three things. one, you could hear the slur in her voice. two, she was a really bad liar. three, elder? she didn't look much older than you, so you hadn't thought to address her as such.

"elder? jihyo we look the same age." was all you could get out. jihyo was charismatic, but understanding what she said was like a rubik's cube. "i can just tell im older than you, im 27 y/nnie. and you look younger than i do." oh. 27. like you'd thought, she's barely older than you. 2 years was not that much of a difference, but it must've counted for something to the pretty drunkard on the other end. "i see. jihyo, im 25 though. you're like, barely older than i am."

should've stopped talking earlier. wayyy earlier. as you learned, jihyo didn't really like being proven wrong.

"so? im still older, even if it is 2 years. so be respectful." her voice was still raspy but now it sounded like she was almost snarling at you. god, you would've hung up right then and there if you knew what your misplaced quick wit and her very well hidden sadism would do to you. because it did barely anything, if anything at all, right.

[princess-of-the-corner]

ML Roleswap (RichSwapAU)

Random assortment of thoughts that don’t really have rhyme or reason!

- Biggest change, Sabine’s brother hit it big as a TV chef, and he worked with Tom and Sabine when his restaurant chain started up. Tom and Sabine, as a result, hit it really big themselves. They now have several chains of bakeries coffee shops, and bistros all over Paris, and the greater France in area. This has done little to change their overall outlook, still being very calm, kind, compassionate, down to earth people.

- Marinette, while technically the “heiress” to DC Delights (company name) is still an aspiring fashion designer, and her parents are very supportive. She is privileged and knows it, but is occasionally unaware of how that privilege can affect others.

- Honestly, I can’t see Tom and Sabine being friends with André, and still being cool with how he and Audrey treat Chloé, so we’re going to have “decent!dad” André here. André is friends with Tom and Sabine, the pair supporting him through his divorce with Audrey, probably around when Chloé is … let’s say 6? 8? Under 10, at the very least. Audrey did not take this well, and has been showing up to pester André since the divorce was finalized. Mostly, she does this through Chloé, who still harbours a great deal of affection for her mom, and wants her approval.

- Marinette and Chloé were a little too young when the Divorce happened to really GET why Audrey and André were separating, so both still see Audrey in a (mostly) favourable light. (Sabrina, ironically, is staring at them like, “really? No idea why they split?”). Marinette in particular looks up to Audrey a lot as the “Style Queen”.

- Gabriel and Emilie own Gabriel’s, a small fashion boutique that does well enough for itself. Gabe has never managed to make it big, partially because as a young man, he told Audrey Bourgeois to shove her “patronage” up her ass, meaning Audrey did her level best to kill his career. In “current canon”, Audrey has encouraged Chloé to “oppose” Adrien, as Gabe’s son, and Chloé’s feels conflicted, as Marinette is clearly crushing on him. (Later, she will start almost exclusively buying from Gabriel’s to piss her mom off.)

- Nathalie is their store manager, cashier, and general help. She’s also dating them both. Adrien has grown up with her in his life, and calls her “Auntie Nat”.

- Adrien is mostly still homeschooled, though rather than a model, his parents taught him how to sew, and he helps out around the store. Recently, he made a push for attending public school, and Gabriel and Emilie reluctantly agreed, partially because they have … stuff going on, that they want to hide.

- Here, rather than using the Peacock and/or Butterfly to make Adrien, Adrien is a perfectly normal human kid. Instead, the Peacock and Butterfly (found as antiques, along with the book, and purchased for inspiration) have been used to help the Agreste’s with their business, getting inspirations for designs and so forth. However, though they’ve used the Miraculous far less than in canon, they still used them, so Emilie is becoming ill. She is not yet in a coma, just seems to be getting sick, so Gabe hasn’t dived completely off the deep end. He is still Hawk Moth, but is far more reasonable, and part of him making Akumas is experimenting, in the hopes that if he can’t get the Ladybug and Black Cat, he could eventually make an Akuma that can cure Emilie.

OR

- Amelie still uses the Peacock to create Felix, which puts HER in a coma eventually, resulting in Emilie taking up the Butterfly, so she can cure her sister, supported by Gabriel and Natalie.

-

Fuck it let’s go for a bit

- Honestly yeah roll with the big franchise of bakeries.

- Yeah I can’t take away /all/ of Mari’s naive nature. So she’s nice but a bit clueless on occasion. Like the ‘why don’t you just buy a new *insert item here*?’ response when someone complains.

- I’m going back and forth on Andre because like. Yeah Tom and Sabine wouldn’t approve of his nonsense. But there’s other factors like. 1.) they may not like him but being civil with people you hate is part of adult business deals, 2.) they may not have known how bad he was until later at which point Mari and Chloé are attached in which case 3.) Mari and Chloé are friends so Tom and Sabine are gonna play nice with Andre so they can make sure Chloé has genuine good influences who will actually be parents to her

- I think that even if they didn’t ‘get it’ before, the kids are old enough to understand now that things are fucky there and Audrey sucks

- Audrey being a petty bitch tracks lmao.

- Nathalie still being involved hell yeah

- Also yeah I can’t imagine Gabe and Emilie not being overprotective

- the potential with the Miraculosu is all sorts of hot mess to figure out tbh. Out of those options I’d lean toward the first because tbh if it was the latter I’d just swing back and knock out Emilie instead

[prolix-yuy]

Sheer

(Moodboard by @missredherring)

Pairing: Maxwell Lord x Plus Sized F!Reader

Summary: You owe more to an unlikely savior than you could ever imagine.

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: T, discussion of off-screen character death (cancer), negative body image and self-worth talk, light spicy thoughts, angst. While this story is not explicit, my blog and the content shared on it is 18+ MINORS DNI.

Notes: This story was a real surprise and a treat to pop out of my head one morning, especially with a Pedro boy I haven't written for! Our reader is a plus sized girlie in this story, and we're dealing with some negative body image and self-worth talk on both sides. The reader also discusses the death of a friend, so if that may be triggering to you feel free to scroll along, lovely reader.

This should have been your best first day. The first day at the job that will finally get your head above water. The first time you’ve felt qualified, and that you’d fit in. And the first where you could see the stepping stones to something bigger and better in front of you.

It was your fucking thighs that ruined it all.

You’d wanted to make a good first impression. Bought a whole new outfit just to show how committed you were, down to the thigh-high stockings and matching underwear. That was for you, something under the pencil skirt and blazer that made you feel even more powerful. It had cost a pretty penny too. Your ample bottom and full figure needed good support, and that plus lace was always the highest price at the lingerie boutiques. But you shelled it out, along with their recommended garters and thigh highs “for peak professionalism,” and were feeling yourself as you strutted off the subway. There was practically a soundtrack playing behind you. Maybe “Uptown Girl,” the notes making a smile come to your face and your head bob as you exited the train.

You’re normally more careful, aware of how much more space your body takes up than the other knockout New York girls streaming around you. But confidence had you swinging your hips and stepping confidently…right until you bumped into a woman’s handbag with an aggressive closure, the metal skimming past your calf and over the delicate nylon.

It ran instantly, a testament to how much of a rip-off these undergarments were. You felt it split along the length of your shapely leg as you hurried out of the station and towards the gleaming monolith of your office. Scurrying inside, you slipped into the bathroom unnoticed to assess the damage.

The run had split into a gaping maw down your leg, the smooth fantasy of the nylon revealing the more mottled flesh underneath. You held back tears as you wracked your brain for a solution. You could run to a shop, get a replacement pair. You’re still early to clock in, wanting to arrive punctually to impress your supervisor. That’s it, you’d just pop out to a drugstore for a new pair and no one would be the wiser.

It was a perfect plan. You just needed to move. But you can’t. You’re rooted to the spot. 

The mirror mocks you, internal monologue screaming to the forefront from where you battered her back this morning.

Wouldn’t have ripped them if you were smaller.

Why do you need to take up so much space?

Did you think all this would change what you are?

Nastier names you call yourself only in the torture chamber of your mind echo in your ears. Your mascara is dangerously close to running, eyes catching on every flaw in your outfit, every wrinkle, everything that screams don’t look at the parts I hate, every unflattering angle. You reach deep to return to that carefree state you held just fifteen minutes ago but it’s dissipated like steam from a coffee cup. 

Grabbing a handful of tissues you storm into a stall and lock it, leaning over to let the tears drip onto the floor without ruining your makeup. The minutes are ticking away, time running out to fix your minor wardrobe malfunction, but the ache in your head and behind your eyes has become the only thing you can focus on now. Your sobs are quiet little sniffles and short gasps, thankful for the privacy.

Suddenly, the door to the bathroom slams open, and you shoot up, holding your breath. You’re not alone anymore.

Someone in smart leather shoes smacks across the floor, walking past the stalls and coming to a stop. A zip, then the tinkle of urination. Your expression crumples on itself in confusion.

Then a deep, masculine sigh reaches your ears, and your face quickly burns with embarrassment.

Fuck, did you walk into the men’s room?

You didn’t even check, just burst in to the first door with a toilet on it. There may have been urinals, but you were too preoccupied in the moment to pay them any mind. You clap your hands over your mouth, lightheaded at the fact that you’re listening to a grown man piss and he has no idea you’re in here. This day has turned from amazing to devastating to mortifying so quickly you could throw up. 

The man finishes, striding over to the sinks to wash up. You breathe a sigh of relief, ready to make a mad dash out before someone else enters. The water turns off, a few flicks of his hands in the sink, and then…

He starts talking.

“This is your day,” he says, an order that you can imagine him doing in the mirror. “You will succeed in what you do, and you will find satisfaction in that success. You will continue to grow, and be proud of yourself. You will start doing that today.” With every word you cringe inwardly. He’s so earnest-sounding, really enunciating his daily affirmations in a public restroom. His voice is pleasing to listen to at least. If he was a late night radio DJ you would certainly tune in to him to fall asleep. 

A moment of silence, a silent hope.

“This is your day…”

Oh for fuck’s sake, embarrassment be damned, you can’t keep listening to this.

“Hi there,” you squeak out, your whole body tense as his monologue cuts off sharply. The pause is at least ten months pregnant before he speaks.

“I-I’m so sorry, I thought I was alone,” he stammers out, two quick steps heading towards the door.

“No, I’m sorry, I-I shouldn’t even be here, it’s…” Your words run out of steam when you realize his footsteps have stopped.

“You’re a woman. In the men’s room.”

You can’t help but smirk. He’s a little slow on the uptake. It’s surprisingly sweet.

“It’s been a rough morning.”

Another pause.

“Are you in trouble?”

You peal out a weak laugh.

“Nothing like that, just…” Taking a deep breath, you blow it out. Might as well admit your failures to a stranger. “I ripped my pantyhose on the way here, and it’s my first day and I wanted to make a good impression, and then I got overwhelmed and…” Your breath starts to quicken, and below the Pepto Bismol pink stall you see two shoes slowly approach. They’re well cared for, supple shining leather, but scuffed all along the toe. Tan slacks overtop the laces, a crisp pleat ironed into the length. You even see a glimpse of striped socks underneath, a collection of garish colors that makes you smile.

“Hey, it’s okay,” the voice says soothingly, closer than before. His accent sounds Spanish before he manually flattens it, forcing it back into his throat in favor of an all-American good boy accent. It eases the tension in your shoulders, sitting down on the toilet seat and dabbing at your eyes. 

“I know it’s stupid. And I should just go out and get another pair. I just…” you say, but struggle to voice what’s really bothering you to a man who hasn't seen your face. Who probably doesn’t care who you are beyond a bizarre Monday morning anecdote. Most don’t, after all. You can’t remember how many times a man has looked through you because of the roundness of your tummy, or the thickness of your thighs. Or even worse, devoured your curves with roaming eyes but won’t look you in the eye, or call you back. 

“It’s not stupid. You wanted to feel ready to take on the day, and something bad happened. We all deal with it,” he says, the gentle register he’s taking on soothing to your frayed nerves. “Do you have a place to go for another pair?” he asks. You bite your lip, shaking your head before realizing he can’t see you.

“First time out here, but I can manage,” you say timidly. The embarrassment of your predicament is climbing back up your throat, the thrumming need to get out and away making your hands shake.

“I know a place, but it’s probably quicker for me to run out for you. Do you want to stay here while I get them?” 

You sputter, a thousand excuses why he should not do that roiling in your brain. “You don’t have to,” is the only one you manage to get out, heart hammering. A little chuckle wafts to your ears, and the heat in your cheeks blooms in your tummy as well. He sounds handsome, and that is short-circuiting your brain even more.

“I have gone on an errand or two in my life,” he jokes, feet making their way towards the door. “Lock it behind me so no one else comes in. I’ll do this -” He knocks on the door in a quick but recognizable pattern. “- when I’m back. It should only be a few minutes.”

“You’re that good huh?” You stammer again, your whole body threatening to light on fire in this stall. This man may come back to a pile of ash instead of a woman dying of embarrassment. 

“Eh, I could be better,” he says, and the door to the outside opens with a rush of lobby noise. “Be right back.”

A thick slam lets you sneak out to bolt the lock. Returning to the mirror that betrayed you just minutes before, you watch your reflection. Behind the roundness in your face you pick at and criticize, you recognize another emotion. Determination, and fortitude you push yourself to stop downplaying. You can overcome this setback. Nothing is lost. If anything, you might have gained a confidant, someone you could laugh about this comedy of errors with over coffee in the break room. 

You’ll be sure to thank him properly when he gets back.

Maxwell Lorenzano hurries out of the office building he’s worked in for six months, down the street and to the Macy’s two blocks away. He knows these roads like the back of his hand, and all of the stores that line them. A good thing to keep in his back pocket when he was pitching new products and charming sales people. Especially good when he knows exactly which door to go through to get to the women’s delicates section.

He strides in with all the glorious purpose of a man on a mission, and people part for him. He likes to think it’s because he cuts an impressive figure, tan suit over a white button-up, brown and yellow striped tie flapping with urgency. But there’s always the nagging worry that it’s because they recognize him. That the scurry away is fear. He’d been confronted in the past, a handful of angry men and women who wanted to take out their frustrations with their fists. But worse is the anxiety, the fear, like he could snap his fingers and magic them out of existence.

The aftermath of that damn stone still hangs heavy around his neck.

“Can I help you?” a petite saleswoman asks when Max comes to a stop in the nylon section. His sudden drop in demeanor from confident to hesitant must have signaled her over. In his eagerness he didn’t even ask his damsel in distress which kind she needed, or her size. He chews his lip in contemplation.

“I’m looking for a pair of nylons for my…” He pauses, no words coming to mind. His unlikely acquaintance? His mystery girl locked in the men’s room? His noble quest? The saleswoman - Karla, her name tag informs him - puts him out of his misery.

“I can help you with that. What kind does she wear? Control top? Thigh highs?”

Max’s mouth dries out. The most he knows of her is the glimpse he got of her feet, sensible black heels, well worn. The sight warmed something in his chest. She must be a hard worker, someone on her feet all day and always up to run an errand for a friend. He bets they ache at the end of a long day. Does she have someone to rub them for her?

“What do…most women wear to an office?” he asks, flitting his eyes over the variety of styles and shades.

“All the professional women I know use thigh highs. Easier in the office than a full set.” Karla directs him to the right section. “What size is she?”

Damn, this is where his lack of foresight fails him. He should have asked, but the intimacy of that question died on his tongue. Why did they size nylons in weight and height, the two most sensitive topics? He’d rather swallow a mouthful of glass than ask. Picking up one of the packets, he flips it to the size chart. There are only four options, which is easier than he expected.

“I can’t remember, better safe than sorry. One of each,” he says, Karla’s well-manicured eyebrows shooting into her hairline.

“And what color?” Karla asks. He noted that at least. 

“Sheer black.”

Karla moves to grab a handful of the basic style, the cheapest on the display, before Max stops her.

“These ones,” he amends, tapping the more expensive set. If she’d already torn one pair, another flimsy set wouldn’t do. It had nothing to do with the fact that the lace edging the expensive ones is more delicate, a prettier pattern, and thinking of giving it to you raises goosebumps on the back of his neck. 

He doesn’t even know you. It’s just…practical.

Karla rings up his purchases without further question, though maybe a little side-smile. She gives Max a brighter one when he takes the bag.

“You’re a good boyfriend,” she comments, scurrying off before he can respond. His face burns hot as he exits the store, checking his watch. The innocuous word - boyfriend - pings in his mind.

It had been some time since Max had run an errand for anyone. A few empty flings followed his divorce but nothing substantial enough to require a trip to the drugstore, or even a coffee shop. It was one of his favorite things about being a husband. He lived for the little memos on his desk blotter - Mrs. Lord needs you to pick up hairspray and milk - and followed them to the letter and beyond. He prided himself in knowing her favorite scents, what brands she preferred, what she turned her nose up at and what feminine products she needed. Sometimes he’d slip in something extra, a bouquet of flowers, a simple card. She’d groan at the expense, especially in the most dire times, but it always ended with her on her tiptoes kissing him, whispering, “My hero,” in his ear. 

He really enjoyed being her hero, even after everything that happened. 

It’s still early enough that his bathroom stowaway won’t be late to her first day. He’ll get to swoop in and save the day, be a hero to one person for a short moment. Jogging back into the office, the clash in humidities making his shirt stick to his back, he returns to the bathroom door. Rapping his pattern on it, he waits for the shick of the lock and a few moments more in case she wants to be back in the stall when he enters. 

Stepping in and locking the door behind him, the open space is still empty, her shoes in her stall. Her toes are pointed towards each other, legs nervously rubbing.

“I, uh, forgot to ask your size,” Max blurts out, cringing immediately at the first thing that comes to mind. He knows she’s holding her breath, so he speeds through the next part. “Those sizing charts are more invasive than a doctor’s visit, so I just got one of everything, and the shop lady said that thigh highs are what everyone’s wearing but I’m not an expert so I hope it’s…okay.” He trails off before stepping further in and sliding the bag under the stall door. He scolds himself not to look further but he does catch a glance at her shapely calves before straightening back up. 

“I can…leave now. Unless you want me to stay until you’re ready to go. What…whatever you want.”

She still hasn’t said anything and it’s heavier than his anxiety on his chest. He’s sure he’s offended her, or completely screwed this one small task up. Leave it to him to take helping a stranger to new, wildly creepy levels. Should he have just gone to reception to ask a woman for help? Is she mortified a man she’s never seen bought her something so intimate? 

He waits in agony.

You try to comprehend what this stranger has handed you. In his absence you practiced thanking him for what you assumed would be the wrong size of pantyhose. You planned how you would reassure him that he could leave so you could escape to the women’s room and struggle into whatever he returned with. 

But instead, he surprises you with a folded bag tucked discreetly under the bathroom stall. 

Four identical pairs of thigh-highs, all matching your outfit, and in every size you could hope for. Pulling out the correct packet, your breath catches in your throat. They’re nicer than you allow yourself to buy, the high-quality nylon silky under your touch. The lace along the edge is finely textured, beautifully designed.

“You didn’t have to do this,” you say, your voice faraway to your own ears, a ball forming in your throat. The man’s feet shuffle against the tile floor. 

“I hope you don’t think I’m being a creep. My ex-wife always said I was good at finding exactly what she needed.”

His voice is tight, and it plucks at your heart.

“Not a creep, you’re definitely my hero today,” you manage to say, rolling down the ruined pantyhose. The other follows, tucking your bare toes into your shoes to protect them from the cold floor. The man paces outside while you stretch each new nylon up your legs. 

“Definitely not how I thought my day would start,” he says, the smile in his voice making your first real one grace your lips. 

“Me neither. I can pay you for these.”

“I could never accept. I’ll return the extras, but please. Consider them a ‘welcome to the office’ gift. Or consolation after the morning you’ve had.”

“Oh, so you work here too? Great, now I’ll have to worry about bumping into you in the other men’s bathrooms.”

“I would gladly approach all bathrooms with caution if I got to run into you in one again.”

A softer pause than before.

“Would you like me to leave?”

Smoothing the lace band around your plush thigh, you let your fingertips trace the edge. Briefly, you imagine fingers other than your own following the same path before hooking underneath to slide them down inch by inch, replaced by soft lips. 

“I’d like to thank my savior face to face,” you tease, smoothing your skirt and toeing your shoes back on. You dab some toilet paper under your eyes, pat your hair, and take a deep breath before exiting the bathroom stall.

The stall door slams shut as the man who saved your day turns to face you. His eyes light on your face first, open curiosity melting into a charming smile that is…familiar. In fact, a lot of him is familiar. His wide shoulders, suit jacket stretching against them. The sweep of his blond hair, not as light as it used to be but still caramel with burnt sugar strands. His large hands, no longer sporting a Rolex or an ostentatious pinky ring. And his face, one of the most recognizable in recent years, wearing an expression you’ve never seen. If you weren’t so dumbstruck you’d think it was appreciation. It was the look someone might give before calling you beautiful. 

“Max Lorenzano…”

“Max Lord.”

His introduction trips over your recognition, dazed expression sharpening and shattering under those two words. The hope in his eyes dims as he schools his expression into acceptance, honey-golden aura swapped for the cool light of cold winter mornings.

“I’ll go. My apologies,” he says, simple, direct. You’re sure this has happened to him many times, possibly followed by shouts or sneers. Your own words stick in your throat as he claps his hands together and moves to leave. Thankfully your hands are fast enough, wrapping around his arm and pulling him to a stop.

“No, please, wait,” you finally manage, your bodies so close you’re burned by the heat radiating off his jacket. He turns in your grip, which you release to clasp your hands in front of your stomach. 

“I didn’t mean…you startled me, I never expected…” you start, rolling your next words around in your mouth. He watches you, half wary, half hopeful. This close you can see how the edges of his lips are slightly chewed, how close his shave is, the sheen of sweat along his neck. He must have ran to get back here so quickly. Your heart thumps weakly against your ribs.

“I never thought I’d ever come face to face with the person who granted my wish,” you say, watching his jaw tighten in anticipation of vitriol. 

“When I saw you on TV, and you asked me what my one desire was, I had…so many things come to mind. To be prettier, thinner, beautiful.” You can tell he wants to say something but you barrel on before you lose your nerve. “But I’m not a complete idiot, I’ve seen a few movies about wishes. I know those things can blow up in your face, and I don’t think I could take being hurt about how I looked by some magic rock.” 

Max’s hand cups your elbow, thumb rubbing a soothing path.

“So I closed my eyes and I wished exactly this: I want one more day with my best friend at the time in her life when she was happiest.” The next breath you take in shakes. “She died seven years ago. Breast cancer. I miss her every day, and I just wanted one more with her. And I got my wish. And it was the best fucking day. The world outside might have been a mess, but we watched our favorite movies, snuck out to the spots we loved before she got sick, ate our favorite foods and talked all night. And I know it was real because she handed me my own ass and made me come to terms with some shit I did not like about myself. Only she would do that.” You fight against the tears, a sniffle coming out instead, as Max watches you with blossoming wonder. 

“And when it was done she hugged me and told me to kick ass and eat cake and break hearts and I’ve been doing my best ever since.” You let out a watery giggle, Max’s smile warming your cheeks. “I never thought I’d be able to thank the person who gave me my best day, but then, here you are, giving me something I needed again. So, wow, thank you. I…thank you.”

Max clears his throat, his own eyes glassy.

“Can I hug you?” he asks, and you push into his arms without further preamble. He holds you with deep breaths, both of your hearts cracking open and healing pressed together. The overwhelming scent of sweat and spicy deodorant and the warmth of his skin is a balm to your frazzled nerves. His cheek rests against your forehead and when you squeeze him a little tighter he returns it. 

When you part, your reddened eyes and sniffling noses make you both snort out laughs, moving to the sink to freshen up. You powder your face, surprisingly unselfconscious after all that just happened. Max straightens his tie and sweeps back his hair. It looks soft, barely styled. His shoulders seem lighter.

Both presentable, he lets you into the hallway, hazarding a peek to prevent any scandal. You walk side by side as he asks you where you’re starting work - transcription - and you ask where you’ll be able to find him - the mailroom. He waits for you to sign in with the front desk before leading you to the elevators, not so surreptitiously angling for the empty one before leading you in. He’s meant to be going down a floor, but rides with you up to the sixth.

“I’m glad you made that wish,” he says once the doors shut, the elevator whirring to life under your feet. “And that you didn’t make the other ones. You’re already beautiful.” He says the last three words quietly, like they would spook you if he said them with his whole chest. Your cheeks burn, the smile dimpling them. “And…thank you. For telling me. No one’s ever told me they’ve been happy.”

You ride in silence until just before your floor, turning to look at the man who gave you so much. He’s watching you like a miracle, like he wants to wrap you in his arms again, like he wants to say something very stupid to a person he barely knows. He swallows it instead, but you can’t help yourself. You lift up on your tiptoes and press a kiss to his cheek, and savor the way he leans into it.

“My hero,” you whisper, stepping out to let the doors close between you.

Your lips, and your words, linger on him for days. Your impressions lingers on his heart for longer. After a week he tries to forget, to push you to the background in a futile attempt at self-preservation. You don’t know him, and he doesn’t know you. Fate smashed you together but you should part just as quickly, save you both the heartache. He’s still a complicated man, and you deserve better than that.

It works until he gets a piece of mail for you, two weeks later, and possessed by some boldness he’s forgotten he has, he plasters a sticky note on it.

“I hope your first week has been better than your first day.”

He wants to write so much more, but knowing anyone could see it stops his hand. 

He doesn’t expect a response, at least not right away. You might still be embarrassed. So when he’s closing up at the end of the day and you come up beside him, the shock on his face breaks you into laughter. 

“My week has been nowhere near as good as my first day,” you finally say. “But I did find a good place to eat a few blocks away. Great dinner options.” Max’s heart pulls between stopping and beating uncontrollably in his chest until he finally says, “We better check it out then.”

The laughter is just as easy as the first day, the conversation even better. He refuses to let you leave without trying the milkshakes, and beams when he watches something heavy fall off your shoulders as you look at him. 

You tell him more about your life, your friend that brought you both together more than she’d ever imagined. He tells you about the life he lives now, of Alistair and how proud he is of him. Questions and anecdotes and words both loud and soft wrap around you in the wooden booth. It’s the first time in a long time that he’s felt like Maxwell Lorenzano.

When he walks you to your subway stop Max’s hand falls to your lower back and remains. The soft way you look at him makes him think that maybe all his heroics have finally gotten him somewhere after all.

And next time he finds himself in a bathroom with you, it’s very much on purpose.

END

I didn't want to spoil the turn, but yeah that's the face he gives her and it makes me emotional just looking at it.

[ddejavvu]

hey!! can i request for aaron hotchner? so one day, aaron saw this trend on tiktok where people make their partner choose between two papers and whatever paper they choose decides which they're gonna do or eat, and aaron wanted to do that with girlfriend!bau!reader because he loves spoiling you 🤭💞💘

so one day, he was standing in front of you with a handsome grin (just thinking about him grinning makes me so 🤭💞💕💘💝) and then he holds up two papers with his one hand while the other is holding his phone, recording your reaction, and he's like "honey, choose," and you started laughing when you realized what he's doing and you thought he's gonna prank you or something (maybe a continuation from the bereal request by the other anon, — which is a really good fic by the way 🤭💗— so the reader's thinking maybe this is his payback from the time when you did a trend and wiped his kiss 🤔) but you went with it and chose

but he really does just wants to spoil you!! so by the end of the day, it was super fluffy and you were spoiled by aaron, and both of you are happy. aaron loves nothing more than spoiling you, seeing you smiling and happy, especially because of him 🥺🥺💗💗

ohhhh you totally think he's just messing with you!!!!!! especially 'cause penelope definitely saw the tiktok you made with aaron about wiping away his kiss and she is so evil that she teased him about it!! right in the middle of the bullpen she teased him about how worried he was and hotch's grumpy face got all red and >:||||

so when he approches you with the camera and a big ol grin on his face ( i agree, his grin makes me 💞💞💞💞💞 ) you kinda giggle like aah revenge, hm? but the first little slip of paper you choose says 'donuts' and you're like.. omg donuts for breakfast. i must have picked the good one.. what's the other one?? and you snatch that one too to look at it and it says ice cream!! you just look up at him with these sweet shiny eyes that have his heart thumping a million miles per hour in his chest and you're like omg 💞💞💞🥹🥹🥹 really?? really aaron?? really?!?!?!!? 🥹🥹🥹💞💞💞

n he's like !! yes really !! mhm !! let's go get dooonuttsssss ☺️☺️☺️ !!! so he takes you in and you get two donuts, but you definitely split it with him, 'cause he just got a cup of black coffee because he is the most boring grumpy man on earth - you're feeding him little bites of the donut and he's getting all flustered and blushy and grinny aaaah

next is a shopping spree!! probably lets you choose between shopping malls on your next slips of paper, and then you're free to run rampant around whichever one you choose. there is no spending limit, but he won't let you just take his card, 'cause he wants to do the spoiling himself >:)) he heads to the cashier with a big hefty basket full of clothes or shoes or craft supplies or beauty products or candles or books or cookware or athletic gear or whatever you manage to stock up on at the various stores and lets you snuggle into his shoulder as he swipes his card ( daddy's got money >:))) ) and ofc he's your bagboy!! you can run around the mall grabbing more stuff from stores, he'll trail behind you and carry all of your bags :]

next is lunch, and you've got the option between your two favorite fast food places :')) it's only fast food though bc he wants to double task, he lets you choose between visiting an animal shelter and visiting a museum and he wants to drive while you eat. you end up picking the animal shelter, which is a relief because he knows you would have been disappointed to miss that even if you did enjoy the museum. he doesn't actually let you see what you picked this time, but he'll let you see the 'museum' one so that you can get just a liiiittle sad that you're not going there and then BAM. pulls up to the animal shelter and it all goes away.

you recognize the building, but there's a few little boutiques in the same parking lot so you turn to him like 🥺 aaron where r we going 🥺 trying not to get your hopes up bc you don't wanna pitch a fit if you think you're getting a pet and then you end up going clothes shopping again!! but he grins and leans over the center console to kiss you and he says 'we're going to the shelter, honey. penelope's on petsitting duty.' and !!!!!!!!!!!!!! 💞💞💞💞

you're sooo excited, you race inside and whether you choose to head to the dog section, the cat section, the bird section, the bunny section, or whatever else they've got, you are just sososososo happy to be there making new friends :'))) aaron watches as you win over a really shy, really scared puppy, or get the hissiest, scratchiest little cat to trust you, or manage to get a bunny to fall asleep right in your lap and the entire time he's just got this crazy fond adoring smile on his face :'))) he takes a million and one pictures, and tbh he's not trying but i bet he's got little critters crawling all over him too.. like he's trying to take a picture of you loving on a sweet pitbull you're petting and there's a little chihuahua worming her way under his arm and sniffing all excitedly in his ear 🥹🥹🥹 he laughs and kinda squirms away from her wet little nose but he def spends the rest of the time petting her and he might even bend his original plan a little if you want to take her home as well :')) aaron is def the man to pretend he does NOT want a dog and then two days later is moving his spot on the couch every hour as the sun moves through your living room so that she can always be sunbathing in his lap 💞💞

anyways i got on a tangent about hotch + puppies BUT !! afterwards ofc you need supplies for whatever pet(s) you've chosen, so you head over to the pet store and you get to spoil your new babies just like aaron has spoiled you all day :')) it takes a while, you need to be sure you're getting the right stuff/enough stuff to keep them well taken care of, and maybe you get a little overboard with the toys.. whatever.. but then you head back home for a bit to get them situated, get everything dog/cat/pet proofed, and then it's time for dinner!! he's a little sad bc if you had gone to the museum he was going to take you out for a nice dinner afterwards but since you're home with new pet(s) now and you don't want to leave them quite yet, he decides to let you choose between takeout places, but he's only sad 'cause he doesn't get to spoil you with an elegant dinner!! he's more than happy to curl up on the couch with some takeout containers and your new pet(s), if you'd gone the dog route he's probably all stern while they beg for a bite of his dinner like >:| no >:| and ofc he's sooo scary and intimidating so the dog listens to him right away but you're less scary and intimidating and the puppy can have some noodles if they want !!!!!!!

if you'd gone the cat route, your new kitty probably does not beg for food, they just take it <3 aaron goes hey! and you look up from the tv to see a little clawed paw swiping away a piece of his chicken >:)) this is the beginning of their feud they bicker all the time.

the birds and the bunnies (and probably whatever other animal you'd decided on) are easier to wrangle for dinnertime, but the night ends with you all snuggled up with aaron and (probably) your new pet(s), you're watching a movie on the couch and do not think about aaron and your new little puppy or kitty yawning in unison 🥺🥺 UGH you are just so happy and full of love for your wonderful man who looooves spoiling you, you definitely give his face a billion smooches and he gets all grinny and red and smiley when you do !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

if he posts the video as a tiktok (with penelope's help) no one lets him live it down, they're all teasing him about how whipped he is for you but atp he doesn't care !!!!!!! he's more focused on watching you watch the video and reliving the memories :')))

[nangel]

Paparazzi, part six

✍︎ words count | 4745 words

✈︎ missing out parts? | series , part 1 , part 2 , part 3 , part 4 , part 5

We’ll be staying in Paris.

We were walking through Paris and basically doing a sightseeing tour. We four walked together and I told them a lot about France. After we visited the Notre-Dame Cathedral which was our last destination we had free time. We went shopping and visited a bakery. We even visited the memorial for princess Diana and took a lot of pictures. Now we were walking around trying to find a place we could visit. “I think I’ve never felt so clueless in Paris” I said frustrated. “Don’t worry…we’re gonna find something” Annabelle said going through tiktok while Olga was already flirting with a 30-year old french man. I watched it and gasped shocked. “How is she doing that?” Maureen asked and I laughed. “I can tell you” i said as I pressed my boobs together which made Maureen laugh and me too. I admired my outfit in the window of a boutique. “Hell yeah…you look good” Olga said smirking and I lifted one leg playfully so my white nike’s touched my butt.

We ended up in a cafe called Café de Flore and ate some with chocolate filled croissants while talking. I loved it and we even saw some people recognising us. Two girls came up to us and tapped my shoulder. “I’m sorry…are you Madeleine Sinclair and Maureen Lilac-Lane?” the blonde asked us, both a bit younger than us, maybe 16. “Yes” we said smiling. “Can we take a picture with you?” she the other blonde asked sweetly. I looked at Maureen and she nodded. “Yeah sure” we said and stood up to stand behind them. They took some pictures and then they left. I couldn’t hide my smile. “Okay that was impressive” Annabelle said smirking. “I liked that” i said smiling. “It was nice” Maureen said and we chuckled like little kids. Charles sent me a message. “What are you doing right now?” “Nothing enjoying my free time with Olga, Maureen and Annabelle” i texted back. “Really? Where are you?” he texted with a laughing smiley. “Café de Flore a nice cafe super cute and romantic” i texted back with a smiling emoji.

He left me on read and I was confused but I put my phone away cause Olga was flirting with the waiter so we’d get free coffee which we found extremely funny. “Yolo” i said and she winked at me. “I could never” Maureen said amused. “Me neither” i said laughing. We were in the middle of a conversation and I was telling them something about the portrait I was having in my head and wanted to paint as soon as we’re back in Berlin. They listened to me and we talked about it until I saw how Olga jaw dropped and her eyes widened, she looked like she was about to choke on her spit. “Olga?” Annabelle asked sitting next to her. Someone tapped my shoulder and I turned around. I couldn’t believe my eyes and my eyes widened as I saw Charles standing in front of me. “Oh my god” i said holding my hands to my mouth in shock. “Hey” he said casually but with the smile I missed desperately. I stood up snd looked at him in disbelief. “What are you doing here?” i asked shocked but in a good way. “I wanted to see you” he said and I smiled like a little child. “You wanted to see me?” i asked with a wide smile not able to stop it. “Yeah…it’s kinda risky but I…I thought about what you said and Paris and Monaco only have one hours distance” he said and I was speechless. “You came here for me?” i asked speechless. “Of course…” he said looking into my eyes with me not knowing what to say. “I’m speechless” i said covering my eyes with a chuckle. “So you can see him too?” Olga asked in a whisper to Maureen and Annabelle. “You’re here…” i said blushing trying to hide my face and he smiled at me and wrapped his arms around me. “I am” he said laughing while his arms were wrapped around me. I couldn’t stop chuckling. “I need to get some…croissants” Maureen said standing up. “Me too” Annabelle said in a happy mood. “Toilet” Olga said and they stood up and walked inside giggling. “I really don’t know what to say” i said as he let go of me. “I thought I’d surprise you” he said softly and I blushed again. “Oh god” i said embarrassed because I was flushed like a tomato. “Hey…don’t be like that” he said resting his hands on my shoulder. “Wait…what if people spot you?” i asked looking around. “This cafe is secluded and there are only old people” he said laughing and I laughed too. “Good that you told me about this trip and that you have free time right now” he said and I chuckled. “I have some questions” i said still speechless. “Go on” he said and laughed. “How did you make it I mean…did you plan this or was it spontaneous?” i asked him. “After you told me about this trip I thought about coming but I wasn’t sure and when you said that you hoped to see me again I couldn’t help…I needed to see you again and Paris is the perfect place” he said smiling down at me. “I am glad you are here, really” i said smiling at him. “I’m glad to see your smile again” he said and we licked eyes. “I wish I wasn’t on a school trip right now” i said tilting my head. “I also have a plan for that” he said grinning and I shook my head. “Oh no” i said and he nudged me. “I’m staying till Friday” he said and I laughed. “No way” i said stunned. “If I can only meet you like this…I want it to last as long as possible” he said and I looked into his eyes. “You’re sweet” i said with a nod. “How long do you have your free time” he asked smiling. “Until dinner actually…the teachers are quite casual with that” i said proudly. “Would you like to spend some time with me?” he asked smiling in the most handsome and charming way I have ever seen. “Are you joking? I’d love to” i said happily. “Good…If your girls are okay with that I’d like to…take you with me” he said playfully. “They’re not gonna say no…they’re probably in there watching us while laughing and giggling” i said and he looked at the window. “They are…” he said swallowing hard while smiling a little unsure about their acting.

“Oh no…” i said grimacing after 30 seconds of silence with him looking at me. “What is it?” he asked carefully. “This is way too risky for you…people are gonna recognise you instantly” i said shaking my head. “Yeah I don’t care” he said shrugging his shoulders. “I can’t do that to you…I already got you into so much trouble” i said concerned. “I came here for you…not for the people and even if they spot me…I’ll get through it” he said rubbing my shoulders. “Are you sure? I mean we can meet up after dinner too…it’s dark then” i said pointing at him while nodding. “We can do that too but right now I just want to spend time with you” he said and I smiled. “If you say so…” i said still unsure as my best friends came outside again with a big smirk and definitely not planning on hiding it. “Hey…uhm…” i started but Annabelle cut me off. “We already heard it…don’t worry…you can go” she said smirking at me. “Wait…Why…but okay” i said a little confused. “Yeah…you deserve this” Maureen said hugging me and I chuckled. “After all you waited long enough” she added and Olga rolled her eyes. “Ola?” i asked her and she nodded “Yeah go…” she said smiling at me. “Oh take that with you” Olga said handing me a bag with bakery. “You actually bought croissants?” i asked amused. “Yeah…not only croissants a lot more! You need to try the…those with the weird name” she said and I laughed. “They’re probably Tartes” Charles said and Olga snapped with her fingers. “Exactly that…” she said and he laughed. “You are the same girls that were in Monaco right?” he asked smiling. “Yeah” Olga said. “It’s nice to meet you, Madlen told me a lot about you three” he said and I looked at him as he introduced himself like a gentleman and saying my name with his french accent. “Madlen?” Olga repeated smirking. “Actually…it’s nice to meet you too…Madlen told us nothing about you” Olga said and emphasised the Madlen. “Absolutely nothing” Maureen repeated and rolled her eyes. “I think I’ll just introduce myself in the right way…” he said and my jaw dropped a little in admiration. “I’m Maureen” Maureen said holding her hand out. “Charles, as you know, nice to meet you…you’re modelling with Madlen right?” he said charming shaking her hand. “Yeah” she said and I knew she already liked him cause she gave me a thumbs up as he turned to Olga. “I guess Olga” he said looking at Olga before shaking her hand too “You better remember it for later cause I’m gonna make you two a hard time” she said laughing tho we all knew she meant it. “You should definitely try the french toast here…they make it nowhere better than here in Paris” he said and Olga was impressed. “You know what? I will” she said with a hint of friendliness, true friendliness. “Then you must be Annabelle” he said as he turned to Annabelle. “That’s me” she said smiling. “Nice to meet you” he said shaking her hand. “The pleasure is all mine” she said laughing. I smiled at him and then looked away. All three scanned us but were mostly looking at me impressed, impressed that he came, impressed that he was actually here, impressed that he introduced himself and impressed by him. “If it’s okay for you I’d like to take her with me” he said respectfully. They were trying their best to keep everything in. “Just go already” Olga said smirking and I smiled at Charles which he returned. “Take those with you” Maureen said giving me my black sunglasses. “Alright, bye!” i said wanting to get out of this with Charles waving at them. “Have fun” Annabelle said and Olga came up to me. “Do everything I’d do” she said winking at me and Annabelle pulled her back. “Not everything” Annabelle said and I waved at them. “Bye” i said as I left with Charles.

“By the way…if I didn’t say it before, you look great” he said as we walked out of the cafe. “Thank you” i said blushing. I looked around. “What are we gonna do now?” i asked him putting on my sunglasses. “Walking through the Paris” he said softly getting black sunglasses out too. “I think I saw quite everything today” i said amused. “But not with me…I’ll show you some hidden gems” he whispered and I chuckled. I probably didn’t look now as confident as always cause I was constantly looking around and practically hiding myself behind Charles while walking really slow to not stand out or get into trouble. He looked at me behind him. “Don’t worry” he said reassuring as his hand took mine and pulled me right next to him before letting go again. I have never been more unsure and insecure in my life. “We’re in side streets…nothing’s gonna happen” he said chuckling. “I feel like I am the dirty affaire” i said quietly. “You know that it’s not like that…but I don’t mind proving it to you” he said and I shook my head. “You already did…no one ever did something like you for me…coming to Paris for me” i said looking up at him. “Being me has advantages…I got a private jet” he said smirking and I nudged his arm. “You’re famous all over the world…I still can’t believe that I didn’t recognise you back then” i said amused. “You made me curious” he said and I smiled. We walked along the streets and slowly got to a more crowded street. The whole time we walked next to each other I asked myself how I could be that lucky. No one would believe me if I said that me -a girl from Germany- is spending time with THE FAMOUS Charles Leclerc. “How is it being a model?” he asked me and I saw a mocking smirk on his face. “It’s fun…yet it’s fun…but with enough I’m gonna walk for Chanel in about one month” i said smiling excited. “Now that you’re saying it…I have some connections” he started and I stopped and looked at him. “What did you do?” i asked him unsure. “I just played a little around and found a connection to Dior…just in case that you want to improve your future” he said snd my jaw dropped. “Are you insane?” i asked shocked. “Who knows what’s gonna happen in the future? You are really talented and you should definitely think about it” he said turning to face me. I tilted my head and shook it. “Why did you do this? You didn’t had to” i said and he just shook his head. “I know but I wanted to do it…as I said…I want to see you up there” he said and I narrowed my eyes remembering when he said that to me back then. “I can’t” i said and he nodded “Of course you can, I did it because I wanted it and you are gonna accept that after all it is just a connection I am telling you about not a contract I am forcing you in the hands” he said chuckling. “I don’t want to be intrusive” i said to him and he looked down at me through his sunglasses. “You aren’t…you are the greatest and most special person I met in a long time” he said and I smiled. Since when is he handsome too? “And you are actually the most handsome guy I’ve ever met and I met a lot” i said with a nod. “Come on…I want to show you something” he said as we walked to a little store. In there were funky painting and I immediately admired all of them. “I knew you would like it” he said proudly crossing his arm. “Look at all the pictures” i said as I showed him one that was completely filled with different shades of pink. “Funky” he said with his french accent and I chuckled. The next stop we made was at an old bookstore. “It’s giving Lana del Rey vibes” i whispered looking through the book that really gave me Lana del Rey vibes since I adored her. I lived books so it was no surprise I was walking out of the store with a bag of books while he led us to a beautiful park through which we walked.

We talked a lot about my exams and school in general. “It’s calming down now…I only have one test left and that one is in art history, we are gonna paint something but not just something…it can be everything but the task is to paint something that really intrigues you and we should dig deep in our brain and soul” i said amused. “And do you already know what you’re gonna paint?” he asked me while looking at me as we still walked next to each other. “I think yes…” i said softly with a smile while looking into his eyes. “Tell me…” he said and I shook my head. “Nuh-uh…that’s gonna be a secret” i said smirking and he groaned frustrated wrapping one arm carefully around my shoulder to pull me close. “Is this okay?” he asked smiling and I nodded. “Hey…can I tell you something” i said in a happy mood. “Everything” he said smiling. “I…I kinda missed you” i confessed looking at him. “That’s the best thing you ever said to me” he said and I smiled. “To be honest…I missed you too” he said pulling me even closer. I rested my head carefully on against his chest. It was weird…I couldn’t really believe it that this was really happening. Every time I realised that it was Charles I didn’t want to look away from him I wanted to scream around but that would be weird.

We ended up going through the whole park because we somehow couldn’t stop talking and since I still had Olga’s beloved bakeries we started to snack them. “Ils sont si savoureux” (those are so tasty). “Oui, c'est vrai?” (yeah right?). I chuckled it away. It was 5 p.m and we were walking through some streets. “And what happened then?” i asked him excited. “I crashed and wrecked the car” he said laughing. “But they told you that it was a bad idea” i said amused. “I was drunk” he said laughing and I started to laugh too. “Please don’t do this ever again, a ferrari is really expensive” i said amused. “But it’s my favourite car too” he said and I rolled my eyes amused. “I wouldn’t have thought” i said sarcastically. “I’m full of surprises” he said and I just nodded. “You are” i said locking eyes with him for a short second. He told me a lot of stories back when he was younger. “Even my friends asked me about you” he said with his arm around my shoulder. “What did you tell them?” i asked him smiling. “What is your love language?” i asked him smiling. “Love Language?” he asked and I nodded chuckling. “Love Language” “Physical Touch” he said and I chuckled. “Mine too” i said amused. “We’re matching” he said and I smirked. “It’s so good to finally have you close” he said again wrapping his arm tighter around me. “You too…The distance is sometimes…killing me” i said moving my head from side to side. “True” he said and we both looked at each other again.

It was 6 p.m and I had to get back for dinner so Charles walked me to the hotel. “What are you gonna do now?” i asked him smiling. “Going back to the hotel” he said smiling. “Can I call you later?” i asked chuckling. “Of course you can” he said and I smiled at him. “Thanks for today” i said gratefully. “You’re welcome” he said and I waved at him before going back inside. As I closed the door of our hotel room I slid down with my back against it, smiling. “How was it?” Olga asked smirking at me. “Beautiful” i said smiling. “Someone seems quite happy” Maureen said and I couldn’t stop chuckling. “I think Charles Leclerc just made our MADLEN the happiest girl in the world” Annabelle said and her and Maureen laughed. “Shut up” i said not stopping to smile. “Are we still going out tonight?” Olga asked. “No way…I’m soo tired from all the walking” Annabelle said dropping herself on the bed. “Yeah…I need my beauty sleep” Maureen said and Olga shrugged her shoulder. “Fine…I’ll walk to the store down the street to get some drinks” she said and left with Maureen following her so Olga wouldn’t get into trouble. “I just chuckled thinking of Charles as Annabelle smirked at me. “Tell me” she said and I immediately jumped next to her to tell her everything.

I was the whole night up reading the books I got yesterday while walking around with Charles. We were going through a museum. I loved the french style people here had, it was no comparison to Germany. I was wearing Charles’s jacket while we walked through the museum. After the museum we visited the Versailles palace which was magnificent and after that me and my girls had a picnic on a bench at the seine. “So he is staying until Friday?” Maureen asked excited as we two were alone. I nodded. “He is a dream” Maureen said and I nodded chuckling. “And you’re wearing his jacket” she said getting emotional while I was cuddled into his jacket since it was a colder day. “Weren’t you scared that people would recognise you?” she asked handing me her cherry coke. “I was and I still am pretty unsure but I just try to not think about it too much” i said taking a sip. “Just think about his girlfriend” she said devilish. “To be honest…I think that he is under a lot of pressure because of it” i said concerned before adding “She isn’t making things easier for them and they don’t talk much…I think it’s going to break…” i said carefully. “Okay…that sounds awful” she said and I just nodded. We went shopping and bought super cute clothed and I had the chance to improve my style. We walked down the streets with our bags. “What about you and Charles?” Annabelle asked me since the other two were already going without us because we took too long. “He said he would pick me up at the hotel” i said smiling. “Good…I’ll get your bags and you can go” she said as we walked to the hotel. “I hope no one’s noticing” i said looking around. “Trust me…they’re all in the hotel because of the weather and I just saw Stacie’s story everyone is in the hotel” Annabelle said as we were right in front of the hotel. “Great…could you uhm…” i started and she nodded. “I’ll cover you” she said smirking and I gave her a thanking look. “Give me your bags” she said and I gave them to her. “Alright…thanks” i said and she nodded. In that moment Charles stood behind us. “Bonjour ladies” he said and I smiled at him. “Bonjour” i said and Annabelle just nodded. “I’ll go inside…bye” she said and kissed my cheek. “Bye” i said and she winked at me before waving at us to go inside. “So…you’re ready?” he asked smiling and I nodded. “Yup” i said smiling and he started walking with me. “Where are we going?” i asked him smiling. “Since you are studying art history and probably totally into paintings I thought I’d take you to Louvre” he said smirking and I chuckled. “But I am going there tomorrow” i said softly. “But not with me” he said smirking and I chuckled. “Okay” i said smiling and we started walking to the trains in the underground.

I was wearing a wine red top with a collar and long sleeves, boots in the same colour and a white skirt with black check pattern, Charles’s black jacket over my top. “You look great…the jacket is fitting perfectly” he said in a whisper and I chuckled. “Thanks” i said and he wrapped his arms again around my shoulder which kinda gave me butterflies while we walked to the Louvre. Inside I was really stunned cause I’ve never been there and all the art and painting were insane. “You like it?” he asked and I nodded chuckling. “Let me take a picture of you” he asked as I took some pictures with my phone. “You sure?” i asked and he nodded which made me smile as I gave him my phone. I stood right in front of a painting as he took some pictures and then handed it back to me. “Look’s great” he said and I brushed some hair behind my ear.

After we walked through Louvre and argued about some things we walked to the La Galerie Dior. “I’m so excited” i said clapping my hands excited and he chuckled. “It’s just a museum” he said as we walked inside. “It’s not…it’s fashion…fucking fashion…and history…and fucking Dior” i said excited and he wrapped his arm around my shoulder again. “I am shaking” i said as we walked inside. We looked at all the dresses set up there and they were so impressing and I could’ve sworn that I fell in love in that moment. “Look, look, look!” i said pointing at the red dress which was a really special one for me. “You’d look great in it…red is your colour” he said softly and I chuckled. I couldn’t stop taking pictures. As we reached the white dresses I wanted to die, I’d die to wear such a dress. “Unbelievable” i said stunned. It was an unbelievable experience especially as we reached the iconic stairs that we walked up. Charles was following behind me while I found myself adored to all the pretty fashion pieces. “Fashion is a work of art” i said and he laughed from downstairs. Since there also were many teenagers in the museum it was no wonder that a lot of girls ran up to him asking him for a picture or an autograph. As I noticed I walked a little more upstairs so no one could really see me. He took a quick look at me before nodding at them to take pictures, give autographs and answer their questions. I chuckled from upstairs though I was a little scared. I was scared that we wouldn’t find a quiet moment anymore. He followed upstairs to me after he left them and asked if I was okay. “Of course” i said smiling brightly which made him sigh in relief. “That’s gonna be quite hard here” i said softly and he just nodded. “Yeah” he said and I kept admiring all the colourful pieces behind the glass while walking upstairs. I never had such an experience. We reached the thing I was excited most about. The dark rooms with the glitter all over the room, even running down and the dresses in there. I gasped in admiration and we went through it talking a lot and chuckling a lot. Cause it was dark there he placed hus hand on the small of my back which made a shiver run down my spine but also made me smile at him from in front of him. There were also some films and moments projected in the rooms which we watched and I noticed him smiling at me while he watched me. I knew that he wouldn’t understand my admiration but he tried his best and that made me weak even tho I tried not to be.

“But it was a good design” i protested. “It was like in middle ages” he said amused and I boxed his arm. “Shut up! It was good” i said annoyed and he just laughed. “I can’t believe you did this with me” i said chuckling. “Me neither” he said and I laughed. I looked at my phone and noticed that it already was 8 p.m, we spent like 4 ours in both museums and I asked myself how the could fly so fast. “And now?” i asked him smiling. “Dinner?” he asked and I nodded. “I’m down” i said smiling and I dialled Annabelle’s number. “Who are you calling?” he asked looking at me with a smile. “Annabelle…she should excuse me for dinner” i said as I held the phone to my ear. “She really is a good friend if she does this” he said laughing and I just rolled my eyes. I told her about going for dinner with Charles and she laughed but said that she’d excuse me whereupon I thanked her. “We can go…I have a headache” i said smirking and he smiled. “Where do you want to go?” he asked me as he got his phone out. “I don’t know I’m not familiar with the restaurants here” i said walking next to him. “I could show you my favourite” he said smirking and I nodded. “I’m excited to see” i said smirking and he led us to the hotel with me following him. “You’re gonna like it” he said and I chuckled. In the meantime we walked I posted some pictures.

Next part

[eevylynn]

You're Good

Sterek || E || Friends to Lovers || 7k wc

“I’m comfortable with my life,” Stiles told Lydia, and he was. He had a job he loved, his pack was safe, and he got to see them regularly. Yeah, there was one thing he would like to change, but there's only so much he can do to change that one thing. Stiles was pretty sure that dating other people wouldn’t help. Or Stiles agrees to let Lydia set him up on a blind date, not realizing who exactly she had in mind.

AN: I realized I never made a full on tumblr post with this..oops!

This was written For L_Grae with the prompts: ~Mutual pining with meddling from the pack. ~Future fic, blind date set up by certain packmates, not realizing Sterek has a FWB agreement already.

Unfortunately, I can't quite write friends with benefits (I gave it a valiant effort, but my brain just couldn't get it right), so I merged the prompts together.

Sterek Valentine's Bingo 2024: Candle

~*~*~*~

Locking the office up with a whistle, Stiles tossed his keys in the air before catching them and shoving them in his back pocket before he turned to walk down the street to the combination coffee and bar that sat a block or so away from his office. He mentally patted himself on the back for that smooth move before abruptly tripping on nothing. Stiles looked around quickly. No one saw that.

That was the one good thing about it getting dark before Stiles even leaves the office at this time. The whole shorter days thing that came with winter coming AND Daylight Savings Time ending at the same time does get somewhat depressing at times, but it’s not like Stiles has never gone around town at night before.

Back in high school, nights were the only times that Stiles could really investigate supernatural happenings what with needing to actually go to school. He always did love a good puzzle to investigate and even contemplated  joining the FBI. However, after botching up his own internship with the FBI, Stiles ended up going to college at Beacon Hills Community College. While still in school, Stiles started a side hustle as a Supernatural Private Investigator, and, upon graduation, he was able to devote his time to his growing business, even opening an office in the slowly reemerging downtown area of Beacon Hills.

Thanks to the combined efforts of the local Beacon County packs, the Nemeton was growing healthily again, bringing positive energies with it, something even the everyday humans could feel. Because of this, more people, both supernatural and human, were moving to town and slowly building up the local economy.

Just the short walk between Stiles’ office and Lunar Lounge, his favorite bar and coffee shop, included a boutique one of Stiles’ old classmates opened, a vegan smoothie shop, owned by a nice family of elves that just moved here a few years back, and a greenhouse bookstore whose owners were always more than happy to provide Stiles with any herbs he needed for potions work after he helped them with a pixie infestation that took residence in one of their personal gardens at their house.

The Lunar Lounge was where many of the Hale pack worked. Open practically 24 hours, it served coffee and breakfast for the morning crowd before transitioning into a pub style bar in the afternoons. In addition to providing human beverages, Lunar Lounge also offered a variety of specialty drinks for the different supernaturals of Beacon Hills, including but not limited to wolfsbane infused homebrews, real bloody marys, and a selection of shimmering, almost ethereal, wines that Peter had procured a vendor for that Stiles was pretty sure was fae, but the wolf refused to confirm or deny that suspicion.

Entering the open double doors, Stiles nodded at Isaac who was behind the bar preparing some fancy pink and yellow monstrosity of a cocktail that was most definitely too sweet for Stiles’ liking.

He crossed the open sea of scuffed wooden tables, dodging a pair of colorful haired women that suddenly blocked his path as they stood up to go who knows where. Reaching the back corner, he found Derek at his usual table that he’d probably been sitting at for the last several hours, hidden from most by a black metal staircase that led to a lofted lounge area. Dark eyebrows furrowed as Derek continued to type on his laptop.

As Stiles plopped down in the seat across from him, Derek glanced up before he said, “I’m almost done. Give me a minute.”

Stiles grinned, “You’re good.” Derek smiled before turning his attention back to the screen.

Continue reading on ao3

[fandomnsfw]

Paris - Stefan Salvatore x Reader

Pairing: Stefan x Reader

Prompt: Request! – ‘Can I request a Stefan Salvatore x reader where he and the reader are really close and in a half ways relationship, it's clear that they both really love each other but they also just need a tiny shove to make it official. They could be traveling the world together and one of them realizes it in the heat of the moment and you can decide exactly how it ends :)’ (Also inspired by Paris - The Chainsmokers)

Warning: Smut….no hard-core stuff today sorry!

ENJOY!!

*****

You strolled onto the balcony staring at the sunrise as you sipped on your coffee. You heard Stefan enter the room but chose to keep looking at the beautiful view. Since you got to Paris things had been different between you two but you couldn’t quite figure out why. You knew he was behind you but he stayed silent. Suddenly you heard the click of the Polaroid camera you took everywhere. You turned round and saw a picture printing out. You shook your head chuckling as he smiled at you with his eyebrows raised playfully.

You sipped your coffee as you observed the people who were moving around the streets. It was still very quiet and because of this it was your favourite time of day to relax. Stefan stood behind you leaning down and hugging you without saying anything. You loved moments like this, because it meant you didn’t have to admit what was happening, you just got to live in the moment.

Paris was your last stop but you still had 3 weeks left there. It made you sad that your traveling was coming to an end but at the same time you missed your friends. You’d been traveling with Stefan for nearly 6 months and you enjoyed it, seeing all the different cultures. Stefan was your best guy friend and you couldn’t ask for better company.

You leaned against him as he played with the ends of your hair, his rough hand occasionally brushing against your exposed shoulder. Today the plan was to go shopping and just explore, you’d only been in Paris for 2 days and so far you hadn’t seen much because you’d been tired from all the traveling. So you and Stefan had just stayed in your hotel room.

“I’m gonna miss this.” Stefan’s voice finally cut through the silence. You nodded in agreement before standing up, his hands sliding away from you as you did. He looked at you with a soft smile which you returned before walking back into your shared room. It was a nice room it had two separate bedrooms and a small kitchen/dining room but it was cute and you loved it the moment you saw it.

You searched through your bag as soon as you arrived to your room. You and Stefan never took suitcases because wherever you went you could just buy the clothes you needed. That was one thing you couldn’t wait for, you’d told Stefan you wouldn’t bring any clothes home except when you went to Paris. You told him you would be sending everything home.

You picked out a pair of light orange hi-waist shorts, a black lace corset style crop top a thick gold statement bracelet with a matching statement necklace and a pair of plain white pointy toed heels. You smiled at the outfit choice before making your way out into the main area. Stefan was dress and looked up from his phone as soon as you came out. He scanned over your outfit as you slipped on your sunglasses and smiled softly before standing up and offering you his arm, you took it smiling to yourself.

You made your way through the now bustling streets, looking through shop windows until you came to one that had a pair of shoes that caught your eye. They were a texture champagne gold, you couldn’t stop staring they were absolutely gorgeous. You felt Stefan drag you into the shop before he stop at the first shop assistant he saw. You knew immediately what shop you were in and you couldn’t contained your smile, Christian Louboutin. You’d been in a few designer boutiques on your travels but you had yet to be in a Christian Louboutin store which is surprising because they’re everywhere. It’s not like you’d never seen a Louboutin boutique because with 900 years in this world you were there when the brand was created. As Stefan spoke to the assistant you gazed around with wide eyes, before being pulled over to some seats.

You sat down as the woman brought over the same shoes you had been looking at. You looked at Stefan as if asking if it was okay, he nodded so you took the shoes from her and looked at them. They were gorgeous but you wouldn’t expect anything less from Christian Louboutin. You slid off your shoes before carefully putting the gold shoes on. After they were on you stood up with ease and looked down at the gorgeous shoes, you glanced at Stefan who was smiling at you.

“We’ll take these please.” He told the assistant how nodded and accepted the card that Stefan had just handed her.

“Stefan I can buy it.” You groaned softly.

“So can I.” Stefan chuckled.

“Stefan I’m about 800 years older than you I think I can buy my own Louboutin’s.”

“I’m buying them so get over it.” He grunted as the assistant brought back his card giving you a shoe box for your old shoes.

After a few more hours your shopping bags had finally gotten too much to carry so you decided to go back to the hotel. Once you arrived back Stefan told you to go change, telling you that’s you’d be going out somewhere nice for dinner. You pulled out your Dior black off the shoulder gown and your new pair of red Louboutin’s. You curled your hair and put on simple makeup with red lipstick before exiting your room. Stefan was stood there in his new black Armani three piece suit, he looked amazing. You smiled as he stared at you in momentary shock before clearing his throat and offering his arm once again.

You made your way to the car that was waiting to take you to your destination, you looked out the window and stared at the pretty lights that lit everything up as you slowly pulled up to the restaurant. Stefan got out first before going round to your side and opening the door, holding his hand out dutifully. As you strolled into the restaurant you realised everyone’s eyes were on Stefan which made you smile and lean over, you lips almost brushing against his ear.

“Everyone’s staring at you.” You chuckled before pulling away and grinning at him.

“Actually they’re staring at you.” He whispered making you look up in disbelief. You looked around and realised he was telling the truth. You blushed and gripped Stefan’s arm tighter, trying to ignore the stares.

You were lead to your table, by a guy who looked like he was in his mid-twenties, he was very good looking but then you soon realised that most of the waiters and staff were just as if not more good looking. The waiter tried to pull out your chair but Stefan beat him to it which made you smile up at him. You felt your heart flutter slightly as his hand brushed against the exposed part of your back, you shivered slightly and turned to the view you had from the window seat. Stefan quickly took his seat before ordering a bottle of wine. You turned to look at him as soon as the waiter disappeared, his eyes were half closed as if he was thinking about something.

“You look really beautiful.” He glanced at you with something you couldn’t quite place but the stare only made you blush once again.

“Thank you. You don’t look so bad yourself.” You whispered back playfully, moving your hair to one side exposing more of your skin.

As you and Stefan joked and spoke about anything and everything you didn’t realised you’d got through a three course meal and 2 bottles of wine. Stefan decided that you’d had enough wine when you started giggling at almost everything he was saying.

As you walked through the quiet peaceful streets of Paris you clung to Stefan arm, your head resting against his shoulder. You stopped to take of your heels before stepping onto the grass right in front of the Eiffel Tower. You spun around, your arms spread wide as you felt the light breeze brush across your skin. Suddenly you were off the ground, Stefan had tackled you and thrown you over his shoulder as he started running around. You squealed clutching his back, giggling as he spun around before carefully placing you down.

He grabbed you waist and hand before he started dancing to non-existent music, you laughed along with him as he spun you round before dipping you. As he brought you back up you realised your noses were touching, his strong arms wrapped around your waist tightly. You glanced down at his lips before you looked into his eyes, they held the same look as in the restaurant but you still couldn’t place what it was.

Your head was spinning as his hand came up to brush your cheek gently, if you weren’t concentrating on his every move you wouldn’t of even known he’d touched you. His thumb slid down your cheek before brushing lightly against your bottom lip causing you mouth to open slightly. Your eyes flicked back to his lips before speaking.

“Kiss me.” You whispered so quietly if he wasn’t a vampire you were sure he wouldn’t have heard you. He didn’t respond with word but chose to obey your request. He leant in a little more you lips finally meeting in a sweet loving kiss. After a few seconds your courage grew, your hands now sliding up his chest to lock around neck as you deepened the kiss, your lips moving against his in perfect rhythm. One of his hands resting on your cheek as his other was gripping your hip. You pulled away reluctantly, opening your eyes to meet his.

“I can’t believe I didn’t realise it before.” Stefan whispered smiling slightly, his thumb making circles on your cheek, you looked at him with a questioning glance waiting for him to elaborate.

“I am in love with you.” You stared at him in shock as he started grinning for ear to ear. He pulled back slightly but not letting go of you, he slung his head back and screamed at the top of his lung.

“I AM IN LOVE WITH Y/N Y/L/N!!” You blushed as you saw a few people glance over at you but you couldn’t help but laugh at his antics.

“Do I not get to add my two cents?” You chuckled as his head came back down, his grin still firmly in place. He tilted his head as if waiting for my response to his very loud confession. You pulled him down for a chaste kiss before looking into his eyes once again.

“I love you too.” You whispered, your cheeks tinted with pink but you didn’t care because it felt like a weight had been lifted.

He raised one of his brows at you before he gripped you waist and spun you around making you squeal. You laughed as he finally put you down, his hand grabbing yours as you began walking. Stefan called the car to come and pick you up so you could go home.

As you got back into the apartment Stefan picked you up bridal style and made his way to his bedroom. He threw you on the bed before playfully flopping down next to you causing you to laugh. He leant up to rest on his left elbow as his hand brushed your curls away, his smile was soft and loving making you finally realise what that look he’d been giving you all night was. It was love, pure undeniable love.

You rolled over so you were straddling his waist, looking down at him with a loving smile. His hand reached up to cup your cheek before bring you down for a passion filled kissed, your hand resting on his chest as he kissed you with more passion than you’d ever felt in your life. You felt his hand move to the back of your dress, carefully unzipping the dress making it pool across Stefan’s suit covered torso. You reached down to start unbuttoning his waistcoat and shirt since his blazer had been discarded before her picked you up. He sat up so you could pull everything off, his lips placing soft kisses across your chest.

He flipped you both round before ridding you of your dress leaving you in no bra and a black lace thong. You flipped back over after your dress was gone, his hands slid down the sides of your waist before they reached you ass. He groaned when he realised you had a thong on which made you giggle softly, he looked up with a playful smirk on his face before he flipped you and pinned you to the bed jokingly growling and nipping at your neck, making you smile and giggle at his actions.

“Stefan?” His head snapping up at the sound of his name.

“Make love to me.” You whispered slightly out of breathe from laughing. He nodded before he leaned down kissing you shoulder, his lips trailing down your body causing shivers to erupt through your body. His hands roamed your body as if trying to memorize every inch of your skin. You ran you hand through his hair as he leaned down to kiss you, his lips being cautious with every move they took.

His hand slid down to your panties, looking up to check it was okay before sliding underneath them once he got approval. His index finger running across your entrance making him groan in approval. He slid in one finger with ease causing you to gasp of approval, your back hips bucking up in an attempt to feel fuller. Stefan took this as a hint and slid in another finger in, moving his thumb to circle your clit as he pushed his fingers in and out slowly.

“S-Stefan.” His name falling from you lips as you felt your orgasm nearing. You gripped his wrist and pulled him away which caused him to look up at you with confusion.

“I-I want to cum with you.” You stuttered quietly, looking at him shyly. He smiled at you tenderly before taking the initiative, slipping out of his Armani pants and Calvin Klein boxers. He then moved to slid down your black lace undies before he moved between your legs, wrapping them around his waist. His hand caressed your face as if asking you if it was okay. You nodded in response before wrapping your arms around his shoulders which made him lower so you were almost chest to chest.

He carefully aligned himself before he steadily entered your heat, he bit his lip groaning slightly. You whimpered against his neck, his hand running through your hair as he whispered sweet words into your ear. Once you’d adjusted he started thrusting into you slowly, his hands still touching your body sweetly. You quiet moans filled the room along with his soft pants, he moved back a little so he could see you, his thrusts becoming more firm but remaining loving. He leant down to kiss you as he gripped your hips tightly as if trying to control himself. You kissed him back running your hand through his hair as his thrust sped up a lightly.

You felt yourself start to build once more, your grip on his hair tightening which he apparently took as a hint because he moved one hand between you both and started circling your clit slowly. You bucked against him, your nails digging into his shoulders as if trying to ground yourself.

“M’Close…S-Stefan.” You moaned against his lips as he pulled away slightly, your lips still touching slightly.

“Me too.” He groaned as you whispered in his ear ‘Harder’. He sped up as you felt yourself near the edge.

“Cum for me Y/N.” He whispered against your lips before nibbling your lip slightly. That’s all it took for you to fall over the edge, your walls clenching around him caused him to follow you. You both rode out your orgasm until you were both worn out and sensitive. He pulled out, collapsing next to you. He pulled you into him, your head resting on his chest as your panting dissipated.

*****

The next 3 weeks were like a dream filled with love, morning sex and laughs but it was finally time to leave. You were sad but you knew you couldn’t ignore the fact you had friends and family at home. You turned to Stefan as he signed a piece of paper which was to confirm the location that the boxes of clothes were going. You smiled as he finished and made his way over to you then you remembered something.

“Oh yeah don’t forget we have to stop by New Orleans before we go home.” You stated happily as you walked to the car that was waiting for you.

“Ugh. Do we have to?” Stefan huffed childishly causing you to roll your eyes.

“Yes I promised ‘Lijah and Nik.” In the 900 years you’d known this family they had always been the only constant. You didn’t care for thing like love usually but with Stefan it was different, you felt like a human when you were with him.

“Fine. It’s a good job I love you.” Stefan groaned as we got into the sleek black car.

*****

“Niklaus Mikaelson! Put that bloody teenage girl down. NOW!” You roared as you entered the original mansion to see Nik’s hand around a petite brunet teen’s throat.

“Y/N! Your home!” Nik dropped the girl and came over to hug you but you avoided his arms as you went to check on the young girl.

“Are you okay sweetie?” You asked softly, her fearful nod made you turn to back to Niklaus with a glare. You stood up and stormed over to the nearest metal object picking it up before winding Niklaus with the metal bar.  He curled up in a ball as you smacked his spine it, before you kicked his chest so he was laying on his back. You dug your spikey black Louboutin’s into his chest bone making him wince.

“I suggest you apologise to her and have the cooks make her some bloody food! Do you hear me Niklaus!?” You screamed you heel digging into his chest causing him to start bleeding as it cut through the skin.

“Okay!” He screamed as he tried to pry your foot off him.

“Even I feel sorry for you right now. And I hate you.” You heard Stefan’s voice cut through your rage making you smile.

“Divina I am very sorry. Would you like to stay for dinner?” Klaus mumbled quietly, his embarrassment evident. She looked shocked but nodded carefully.

“Oh your Marcel’s daughter right? You should have him come too. I haven’t seen him in years.” You sighed before making your way into Stefan’s arms.

****

You all sat around the dinner table, you sat in between Stefan and Nik, with you at the end of the table. Divina sat quietly next to Marcel as if they would want to be anywhere else.

“So let me get this straight, Marcel didn’t die but instead of finding his family he stole your city and now you’re fighting over it?” You raised your left eyebrow at them as they nodded like scolded children.

“Oh he also summoned your father with the very blonde Bex and you also have a miracle baby.” You huffed as you pointed at the gorgeous little one year old who was chomping on some mashed potato.

“Marcellus Mikaelson.” He flinched as his names fell from your lips, his eyes widening slightly.

“Nik, ‘Lijah and I built this city! If you and ditz over there hadn’t of summoned their father we would be staying here! You had over this city and come live with your family before I kill every single minion you have! Do you understand me?” You snapped your voice one of an angry parent.

“Thank you!” Klaus exclaimed like he’d won which made you glance over at him with a raise brow.

“Don’t think you’ve won! Don’t pretend you were the king here! You were the prince! I was the Queen remember that Niklaus! I also do not appreciate the fact you tried to kill Marcel several times! He is family and if I see you bickering with each other again I will snap your necks repeatedly!”

“Well said Y/N.” Elijah huffed but you turned to him with an unamused look.

“Elijah do not think you are off the hook! You went along with Nik’s charade! You also accused your own brother of using his bloody child! You are the oldest! Act like it! And YOU!” You switched your attention to Bekah who was trying to escape the table.

“Next time you want to try and betray your brother remember this moment! Marcel you are free to be with Rebekah. No more betrayal! Understood!?” They all murmured ‘yes’ before going back to their food before Hayley finally spoke up.

“Well that was dramatic.” She sassed before feeding hope another mouthful. Before she could blink you dragged her away from the child, your hand around her throat as your pinned her against the wall.

“And you! Stop switching from Jackson to Elijah! They are not toys so don’t treat them as such! You have a child you should set an example! Not throw yourself at any man you can! So either stay away from Elijah or give Jackson up and be with Elijah!” You snarled as she choked against you grip, you heard Elijah snapping at you to let her go but you just stared into Hayley’s eyes. She nodded and you released her.

“Bex could you switch seats with Divina please.” You muttered as you sat back down.

“Why?” She questioned softly.

“Because I know you and my boyfriend have a past and I don’t want you in a 3 meter radius.” You deadpanned which caused Nik to start laughing as Elijah tried to cough to cover his smile up.

“Seriously!?”

“When did you turn into Caroline?” You snorted as she swapped seats with Divina. You nodded at Divina before digging your fork into a cut up piece of steak before holding it up to Stefan’s lips. He chuckled at you taking the steak, leaning over to give you a chaste kiss before moving back to chew his steak.

“What did I miss?” You heard a cheeky voice as from behind you which made you choke on your wine. There stood your old flame Kol Mikaelson.

“I don’t want you within 3 meters of Y/N.” Stefan joked which made everyone start laughing.

[kingyo-konbini]

FLAT WHITE [SABO X READER]

[SUMMARY] luffy gets food poisoning, so you have to cover his shift. luckily, your night quickly becomes interesting when you meet a particular blond man. [PRONOUNS] gender neutral [GENRE] modern + coffee shop au [POV] second person [WORD COUNT] 2097 [CONTENT] first meetings | language (you call zoro an asshole but you don't actually mean it) [A/N] belongs to this one shot collection

“I’m gonna kill him.” You grumbled, angrily scrubbing your hands with soap and hot water.

“[Name]?” You looked over your shoulder, the scowl on your face a warning to whoever tried to mess with you that evening. Zoro squinted at you, nonplussed. “Why are you here?”

“Why don’t you ask your boyfriend?” You huffed, wiping your hands dry with a paper towel before chucking it into a trashcan.

“Are you talking about Sanji or Luffy?” Usopp snickered, yelping as the frothing pitcher Zoro had been cleaning hit the side of his face.

“I meant Luffy.” You glanced around the dining room, letting out a puff of air when you realized it was occupied. Lowering your voice, you grabbed the metal pitcher from the floor and shoved it back into Zoro’s hands. “Idiot apparently ate some bad leftovers and has food poisoning. Sanji called me to cover for him.”

“You’re not opening tomorrow, are you?” Usopp asked, rubbing his face. You shook your head.

“Then why’re you pitching a fit? You have a date tonight or something?” Zoro scoffed, rinsing off the pitcher once again.

“Ha ha. Very funny.” You curled your lip and began checking the fridges, seeing if any milks needed restocking. “No, I didn’t have anything planned… just didn’t wanna work tonight.”

“Then why’d you pick up the shift? I know Robin would have taken it if you didn’t.” Usopp questioned, checking his watch and grinning once he saw his shift was, indeed, about to end.

“Robin picked up Nami’s opening shift tomorrow. Apparently this boutique is having a flash sale in the morning that Nami doesn’t wanna miss.” You sighed and leaned against one of the counters, pouting as Usopp slipped out of his apron and began making his way to the back. “It’s fine, really. Just put me in a mood for a bit.”

“Well, Tuesday nights are usually pretty slow, so it should be easy.” Usopp sent you a sympathetic smile before raising a hand in parting. “See you guys later!”

You and Zoro both returned his parting words with unenthusiastic versions of your own, the two of you settling into an easy silence. There were only a couple customers: an older woman reading while enjoying what looked to be a steaming cup of tea, a stressed-out looking college student pouring over some textbooks with a cup of coffee that had long since gone cold, and a couple that seemed to be on a date, sharing a small tiramisu.

Zoro set the pitcher to the side and grabbed a rag, opening one of the cabinets to pick up a bottle of glass cleaner.

“I’m gonna wipe down the windows.” He grunted, walking past you and out from behind the bar. You hummed and surveyed the area, looking to see if there was anything that needed to be done. It looked like Usopp had cleaned and tidied up pretty much everything before leaving, even replenishing the syrups. It wasn’t often that you wished for customers to show up, but you knew the oncoming hours would drag on forever if you didn’t have something to focus on.

The bell above the door rang as someone entered, eyes widening a little in surprise as your wish was granted much faster than you’d anticipated. Zoro didn’t move from the window, only looking over his shoulder to see who had entered. You missed the flash of recognition on his face as you focused on the customer, quickly moving to stand in front of the register with a smile.

“Hello! Welcome to the Thousand Sunny, how can I help you?”

He was tall, blond, and handsome. He also looked immaculately dressed, like he belonged in a different era: the top hat, the midnight blue, satin dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and the brown leather gloves that covered his hands couldn’t help but pique your interest. The scar that covered his left eye and crept down his neck and under his shirt didn’t help matters at all, and you found yourself staring.

“Ah, you’re the new hire, right?” He asked with a smile. You blinked and nodded; you had been working at the cafe for a little over a month, so you weren’t sure if you could still consider yourself the ‘new hire,’ even though it wasn’t technically incorrect. You’d never seen this man before, and you thought you’d gotten relatively acquainted with all of the regulars by then– you’d even met the maintenance man! “Well, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Sabo.”

He paused for a moment, as though expecting you to come to a sudden realization. You didn’t, and instead kept your polite smile on your face.  “I’m [Name], it’s nice to meet you.”

When it became obvious you had no idea who this guy was supposed to be, a light pink tint spread across his cheeks and he cleared his throat, turning his gaze to the menu. You saw Zoro looking at you incredulously, but chose to ignore him. If this guy was important, surely someone would have mentioned him to you by then, right?

“I’ll take a flat white, please.” He offered you an easy smile, and you returned it. He was easy on the eyes, and while you knew it was technically inappropriate to flirt with a customer, you couldn’t help but want to push your luck. He seemed nice, his tone was polite, and he was looking at you with something you thought you could interpret as interest.

“For here or to go?” You asked, plugging the order into the system.

“As much as I’d love to stay a little longer, I need to get back home. To go, please.”

You nodded and did your best to hide the disappointment from your face, grabbing a cup and writing his order and name on it with a sharpie. You put it off to the side and returned your attention to the screen. “Anything else?”

“Three profiteroles and a baguette, if you have any left?”

For you, I’d make them myself.

You shook your head in an attempt to dislodge the thought and glanced at the bake case next to you, zoning in on the few remaining profiteroles. You then looked over your shoulder to the wall of breads behind you, letting out a small breath of relief when you spotted a baguette.

“Of course.” You input the rest of the order and then flipped the screen, showing him the total. “Cash or card?”

“Card. please.”

You nodded, selected the option, and then went on the move, boxing the pastries before sliding the baguette into a sleeve. You placed the treats on the counter along with the receipt and flipped the screen back to you, smiling. “You’re lucky, this is the last baguette we have today.”

He returned your smile and gathered the food in his arms, quickly looking back to you. “I’d say I’m lucky for finally getting to meet the new hire, honestly. The baguette is just a plus.”

You flushed at his words and ducked your head, hiding the smile that lit up your expression. You grabbed his cup and moved to the espresso machine, preparing the espresso shot and pulling the milk from the fridge.

“Are you a regular? I’ve been here for a little more than a month, and I don’t think I’ve seen you before.”

“Oh, yeah, I tend to work a lot so I don’t have many chances to stop by.” He had moved with you, looking at you from behind the counter. “I don’t think I’d count as a regular, but my brother works here, so I try to drop by when I can.”

You almost dropped the pitcher and turned to stare at Sabo, eyes wide and slightly horrified. You’d been flirting (had you been flirting? You were never really able to tell, but you thought he had been flirting with you at one point) with one of your coworker’s brother. Who could he be related to? He looked a lot like Sanji, but Sanji had never mentioned his family, like ever. You’d gotten the impression that it was a taboo subject and steered clear of it to the best of your abilities.

“O- oh? Is that so?” You stuttered, looking back at the metal pitcher in your hand. You carefully poured the milk into it, thoughts tumbling through your mind at an impressive speed. You thought you heard Zoro snicker, but you couldn’t be sure as you turned on the steam wand and the loud, shrieking sound filled the air. You took the moment to put your mind in order, fighting the blood that had rushed to your head and trying not to focus on the amused smile you could see from the corner of your eye. Once the espresso machine quieted, you cleared your throat and began to slowly pour the frothed milk into the espresso, just as you’d been taught. “I’m sorry, I don’t remember anyone mentioning any brothers.”

Sabo laughed, light and playful. “I’m not surprised, Luffy can be a bit absent-minded at times.”

It took all of your willpower to not dump the remaining milk into the cup.

“Y- you’re Luffy’s brother?” You choked out, shakily finishing the top-up and moving the pitcher to create a little design on the surface. “I… I didn’t know he had a brother.” Honestly, you hadn’t given much thought to your coworker’s personal life or family, kind of assuming he’d just spawned from the ground somewhere.

Sabo’s laugh devolved into a chuckle and he offered you a sympathetic smile. “He has two, I’m afraid.”

You placed the pitcher in the sink and wiped your hands off on your apron, heart beating rapidly in your chest. You managed to release a slight hum in acknowledgement, carefully settling the lid over the top of the drink. “That’s… cool.” You didn’t know how else to respond, setting the finished drink in front of him. A sudden thought struck you and you slapped a hand over your mouth. “Oh my God! I’m so sorry! If I’d known you were a family member, I would have given you a discount-!”

“It’s alright, I figured out you had no idea who I was pretty quickly.” Sabo cut you off, tucking the baguette under one arm and grabbing the cup with his free hand. “Don’t worry, it’s not a big deal.”

You shot a scowl over to Zoro, who was openly laughing. “Zoro! You knew! Why didn’t you say anything?” You whined, not caring that you were probably annoying the other customers in the cafe.

Zoro shrugged and smirked. “Wanted to see what would happen.”

“You asshole.” You hissed under your breath, running a hand through your hair. “I’m sorry, Sabo-san-”

“Oh, no, you don’t need to call me that.” Sabo shook his head and grinned. “Just Sabo is fine. And really, it’s okay. It was nice getting to talk to you without that connection, you know?”

You blinked. You weren't sure you knew, but you’d take what you could get.

“I- mhm.” You nodded.

“I actually came down to thank whichever poor soul had to take his shift from him. I’m glad it was you.” He beamed at you. “So, you know. Thanks. Hey, when’s your next shift?” He asked, taking a cautious sip of his drink. “Wow, this is really good.”

“Uh, tomorrow. Eleven to four.”

“I’ll have to drop by during my lunch, then.” Your racing heart somehow managed to pick up speed. “It was nice meeting you, [Name], but I have to go back and help Ace nurse Luffy back to health. I’ll see you soon, alright?”

“O- okay.” You nodded again, brain functions diminished. “It was nice meeting you too, Sabo. Have a good night.”

And with that, Sabo sent you one last blinding smile and left, nodding at Zoro as he passed. You stood, frozen in your spot as you processed what had just happened.

“Hey, [Name].” Zoro snapped his fingers in front of your face, a teasing smirk staring down at you. When had he gone back inside the bar? “You there?”

It took a second but you eventually came back to your senses, slapping Zoro’s chest with a huff. “You asshole. I hate you.”

Surprisingly enough, Zoro chose not to tease you further and instead went about putting the window cleaner away and tossing the rag who-knows where. “I’ll start on the dishes.”

You huffed and turned back to the espresso machine, putting the milk back as you began to clean up.

Maybe you wouldn’t kill Luffy after all.

[densi-mber]

Rushing Home with their Treasures

“Ooh, what about this?” Deeks asked, holding up a tiny green and red elf costume.

“I don’t know,” Kensi said, rubbing the fabric between her fingers. “It’s cute, but also kind of ugly.” She rested her hand over her stomach, absentmindedly rubbing a few times. “Those dresses are really cute, though,” she added.

Deeks followed her gaze to the smallest imaginable velvet dress with a poofy skirt.

“That is adorable,” he agreed. “We could get it.”

“But then we’re going to end up with three possible sets of everything to cover all the possible girl/boy scenarios. Besides, we’re supposed to be getting gifts for family and friends, not the twins.”

They’d taken advantage of a afternoon when neither of them had any appointments or work to knock out some of their holiday shopping. The giant display of baby paraphernalia had sent them on a half hour detour.

“Ok, where do you want to head first?”

“Well, I thought since Rosa’s gift is probably going to be at least partially custom-made, we should probably get that taken care of before it gets too busy,” Kensi suggested.

“Sounds like a plan.” He saw Kensi give the baby clothes another look before finally turning in the direction of the jewelry department.

“How can I help you today?” the assistant at the jewelry counter asked as they approached. “We have some lovely pieces on sale today and all earrings in this display are 50% off.”

“Thank you, but we’re actually looking for a pendant for our daughter,” Deeks explained. “This is what we had in mind.”

An hour later, they walked away from the counter with pamphlets, paperwork, and the promise of their personally designed necklace in a week’s time. In the end, they’d settled on a design a series of interlocking hearts that incorporated each of their birthstones, with space to include the twins’ once they were born.

To some, it might sound slightly cheesy, but Rosa valued anything that linked her to her found family. From the pictures spaced throughout the house, to Deeks and Kensi’s names on her school forms. The necklace just happened to be a very purposeful and more extravagant addition.

“I think she’s going to love it,” Kensi said, examining the example pictures they’d been given. They strolled past a couple food vendors on their way out and she inhaled deeply, closing her eyes. “Mm, cinnamon rolls.”

She gave Deeks a sly look, and he chuckled, veering off towards the Cinnabon. “C’mon, we can’t let you and the Pastry Babies starve. Especially when there’s literal pastry to be had.”

Kensi looped her arm through his, leaning her head on his shoulder. “I love you.”

“So, where to next?” Deeks asked once they both had cinnamon rolls the size of his head in hand.

Peeling off a strip of glaze-covered dough, Kensi slowly at it while she considered his question. “That boutique Anna likes is across the mall, we’re getting Rountree and Fatima’s gifts at the Christmas market, so maybe your mom’s?”

“Sure. Though we are definitely not getting items 2, 3, or 7 from her wish list.”

“Oh, you mean the lingerie, dirty truth or dare game, and aphrodisiac gift basket?” Kensi said, licking icing off her finger. “Yeah, I’m thinking we need to pass those on to Arkady.”

“Ew,” Deeks commented, giving a full-body shudder. “Ok, you want to meet up in the accessories? I’m gonna grab some coffee to wash down the sugar and hopefully burn the thought of aphrodisiacs, my mom, and Arkady from my mind.”

Snorting, Kensi leaned in for a kiss. “See you in a few.”

Deeks joined the line for one of the many coffee shops sprinkled around the mall’s main floor. When Kensi was out of sight, he ducked out of line, making a beeline for the baby department. It only took a few minutes to locate the racks of Christmas outfits they’d looked at earlier.

He grabbed the tiny green dress, smiling as he headed for the register.

***

A/N: So much fluff this densimber! And yes, I’m still manifesting twins all day, every day.

[stillwintering]

All's Fair in Love and Politics  (a modern Nessian AU - where Rhys is running for president)

Summary: In the ruthless arena of politics, victory demands risking everything, even one's own heart. Rhysand has his eyes on the presidency. Feyre convinces her estranged sister, Nesta, to join the political campaign. As the campaign intensifies, Nesta and Cassian find themselves forging an unexpected bond. But can their budding romance survive the treacherous waters of modern political warfare?

(Nessian focused but lots of Feysand to keep things interesting.)

Read on AO3 / Chapter 1 / Chapter 2

Chapter 3

"Eris?" Gwyn looked surprised, her bright teal eyes catching the name flashing across Nesta's phone screen.

Nesta left her phone facing up on the table during Sunday brunch with her two best friends -- a tactical error. Nesta quickly sent the call to voicemail and slipped her phone into her bag.

"Again?" Emerie smirked from behind her coffee cup.

Nesta felt her face burn red. "I ran into him at the Hewn charity gala," she pushed her food around with her fork. "I don't know why he's calling."

Gwyn huffed. "I can't believe you saw Eris before you made time to see us," she teased.

"Things have been crazy with the campaign. And the gala was a work event," Nesta looked contrite. "When's your train back to New York, Gwyn? Do you have time to drop by Emerie's shop with me?"

"Don't change the subject," Gwyn's eyes twinkled. "Now we need to know what happened with Eris last night."

"I -- he -- " Nesta started, her face turning an even deeper shade of red, but found that she couldn't bring herself to say out loud that she had gone home with Eris for hate sex. "You two are the worst," she said instead.

Gwyn knew Nesta well enough to make the inference. "I thought you couldn't stand him!" Her face was equal parts surprise and amusement.

Emerie snickered. "No. They're friends with benefits."

"We are not friends!" Nesta hissed.

"Fine," Emerie was enjoying this entirely too much. "They are frenemies with benefits."

Nesta opened her mouth to reply but then said nothing.

Gwyn glanced between Nesta and Emerie and let out a laugh. "So are the benefits good at least?" Gwyn asked surreptitiously.

Nesta suddenly felt self-conscious. She tugged the collar of her blouse higher, hoping the red bruise Eris had left on the crook of her neck remained hidden.

"I'm going to take that as a yes," Emerie observed.

Gwyn nodded. "That's definitely a yes."

---

Mercifully, Gwyn and Emerie let Nesta off the hook for the remainder of their brunch.

Nesta had dearly missed spending time with her two best friends. After college, they had all moved to different cities but still made time to meet up regularly. Gwyn headed a women's advocacy non-profit in New York City ("God, I miss having you in the City," Gwyn had said when she arrived in DC). Emerie owned a women's fashion boutique in Alexandria ("I'm so happy to have you close by now," Emerie retorted. "But I better see you more often from now on," she had admonished).

Their conversations flowed easily. Gwyn and Emerie both wanted to know more about Rhys ("Is he as handsome in person as he is in photos?"). They peppered Emerie with questions about the new woman she was dating ("What was her family like?" "Was she a cat person or a dog person?").

They both listened sympathetically when Nesta told them about Elain and Feyre. Gwyn wrapped Nesta into a tight, loving hug ("These things take time."). Until then, Nesta hadn't realized how much she needed to hear those words.

---

Cassian paced around Rhys's office Monday morning. The vote for the immigration bill was delayed.

"Beron is up to something," Azriel said from his corner. His eyes followed Cassian back and forth in the limited space -- they had removed all the visitor chairs from the room now that the team was bigger.

"He's gathering his forces for an ugly floor fight."

Rhys nodded in agreement. "I only told him I'd think about adding the amendment. It would no doubt kill the bill. He must have approached other members of the House about it too."

Feyre frowned. "It doesn't make any sense," she mused. "It would be politically beneficial for Beron and the party to pass the bill as is. Why is he trying to sabotage his own legislative priorities?"

Cassian shook his head. "As Speaker, he put the bill up to a floor vote. But now he's playing dirty behind the scenes," he turned to Rhys. "I never thought he actually wanted immigration reform."

Rhys looked down at his hands, considering their comments.

"We need to position our office as being pro-immigration," Amren said. She turned to Nesta, "Can you come up with some language on this -- our position for a press release?"

Nesta settled her gaze on Rhys. "That depends," she said, a challenge. "On what Rhys thinks about immigration reform."

Rhys turned his full attention to Nesta. "I support everything in the current bill," he said.

Nesta rolled her eyes. "What do you actually believe?"

Rhys paused, his face unreadable. The question hung in the air.

A knock sounded at the door. A young lady poked her head into the room. "Excuse me, sir, sorry to interrupt," the staffer said apprehensively, her face flushed. "All the members are being called to the floor."

Rhys rose from his chair. "We'll continue this later," he said to Nesta on his way out the door, the young staffer at his heels.

Nesta looked after him and frowned. She didn't like how Rhys avoided her more probing questions regarding his political agenda. Was Rhys waiting to see which way the political winds would blow before settling on his policy goals?

Azriel picked up his laptop and papers. "We still need to figure out what Beron's trying to pull," he said, scrolling through his phone. "Let me make some calls. Maybe someone in the Speaker's office is willing to enlighten us."

Nesta was still looking out the open door after Rhys's disappearing form. "Don't bother," she said. "I'll talk to Eris."

Everyone in the room went still.

Nesta turned to Azriel and observed that his lips were drawn into a tight line. "Eris had been calling," she explained. "So I'll call him back."

Cassian's jaw worked. "I don't think that's a good idea," he said slowly.

"Eris wants the bill to pass," Nesta said, getting impatient. "He'll play ball."

Cassian started pacing again, avoiding looking in Nesta's direction.

Azriel's frown deepened.

Amren surveyed Nesta while drumming her manicured fingers on the surface of the desk. "Do I need to worry about you and Eris?" Amren asked carefully.

"Excuse me?" Nesta's voice rose. She looked between Amren, Azriel, and Feyre. They were all studying her with interest. She didn't know whether to be insulted or outraged. She knew she didn't like the implication of the question.

"I am a professional and I'll conduct myself as such. I expect the same from all of you." Nesta's tone was brusque.

Amren hesitated but looked to Feyre.

The sisters stared at each other intently. "I trust you and your judgment," Feyre finally said. Nesta let out a breath she didn't know she was holding.

Amren nodded. "Fine, call Eris for a meeting," then she pointed at Cassian. "You're going with her."

"I don't need a chaperon." Nesta crossed her arms.

Amren looked out the window, her eyes searching for some distant object outside. "I have no doubt you can handle yourself, girl," she said. "But Eris needs to be reminded of who he's jostling with."

---

"Look who finally decided to return my calls." Eris's voice crackled over Nesta's speaker. Cassian stood next to her, his eyes on her phone. Amren had insisted they work as a team, and then Cassian insisted on listening in on the call.

"I'm already regretting this," Nesta retorted, rolling her eyes at both her phone and Cassian.

"I'll make it worth your while," Eris's tone was lurid. Cassian raised his eyebrows.

Nesta looked up at Cassian. Something twisted in her at the pained expression on his handsome face. Cassian held her gaze and nodded grimly for her to continue.

"Just tell me where to meet you," she said.

---

Eris picked a tiny diner on the outskirts of the city for their meeting the next day. He was surprised to see Nesta walk in with Cassian's towering figure behind her.

"I didn't know this was bring your child to work day," Eris told her drily, barely acknowledging Cassian's presence. He gave Nesta a quick kiss on her cheek and then gestured for them to sit in the booth across from him.

The diner looked like it hadn't been updated since the 1950s, with checkered linoleum floors and bright red benches. Cassian scanned the long rectangular space. They were the only ones there except for the wait staff.

Nesta was nervous to meet Eris with Cassian. On their drive here, they only spoke to each other in short curt sentences, going over what they would ask Eris. She had opened her computer in the passenger seat and worked on the immigration press release. Her years of reporting had trained her well for writing on moving vehicles. Cassian was a quiet, comforting presence beside her -- he left her to her work and focused on navigating through traffic.

A waitress came up to their table. "What can I get you folks?"

"Just coffee," Cassian said and crossed his arms.

"Same for me."

"The beautiful lady will have a slice of your chocolate cake, Alis," Eris smiled. "And I'll take the lunch special." After the waitress left, Eris turned to Nesta -- she arched an eyebrow -- and added, "It's the best chocolate cake in DC, I swear."

Cassian looked like he was ready to throttle Eris. "You come here often?" he asked sharply.

"Something like that," Eris's face was impassive. "Nesta didn't mention she was babysitting."

Alis returned with three mugs of coffee before Cassian could respond.

"Why are we here, Eris?" Nesta asked. She could already feel her annoyance surfacing.

"I told you the chocolate cake is amazing," Eris gave her a wicked grin.

Cassian drank his coffee, letting Nesta take the lead as they had discussed.

"Well, out with it," Nesta said with disdain. "What did you want tell me that can't be said over the phone?"

Eris pouted. "If you had stayed the night," he drawled. "I would have told you in the morning."

Nesta refused to let Eris rile her up. She gave a quick side glance to Cassian. His face went dark. Nesta felt a twinge of remorse -- she didn't want to drag Cassian into her twisted alliance with a scoundrel like Eris. She didn't want Cassian to think that she took satisfaction in any of this.

"We don't have time for idle talk, Eris," Nesta said, keeping her voice neutral.

Alis came by again with a sandwich on one plate and a huge piece of chocolate cake on another. They fell silent as Alis walked back to the counter.

Instead of responding, Eris picked up his sandwich and took a bite. He looked at Nesta expectedly.

Nest sighed, unwrapped the fork from a napkin, and ate a piece of the cake. She hated that it was the best chocolate cake she had in a long while.

Cassian was visibly pissed off.

Satisfied, Eris took another bite of his sandwich and chewed slowly. "Beron doesn't care whether the immigration bill lives or dies," he finally said.

"Why did he put the bill on the floor then?" Nesta put her fork down.

"Beron allowed the bill to come to a floor vote to appease the progressive wing of the party," Eris continued. "They have been threatening to revolt."

"We know," Cassian said. He shifted in his seat, his knee knocked against Nesta's. She blinked.

"Beron doesn't care what happens to immigration reform," Eris looked bored. "He just doesn't want the progressives to get too big for their britches."

"So this poison pill amendment is just to teach them a lesson?" Nesta asked.

"Beron wants them back in line," Eris affirmed.

Cassian and Nesta exchanged a look.

"You know," Eris nudged the cake towards Nesta again. "Tarquin has been pushing for a more strigent clean energy bill, close the loopholes for large corporations. He's been looking for the right co-sponsor."

Nesta nodded, understanding. Tarquin was the leader of the progressive caucus -- maybe, just maybe, there can be a deal.

Cassian looked at Eris pointedly, picked up Nesta's fork, and took a bite of cake. "Mmm, delicious," Cassian moaned theatrically. Nesta's lips quirked upwards into a slow smile.

Eris furrowed his brow in surprise.

Cassian swallowed, licking his lip. "And the defense budget?" Cassian asked deliberately. "Why is Beron pressing for a 20% increase?"

Eris pushed his plate away from him. He leaned back in his seat and assessed Cassian. "Does Starborn support widening the war in the Middle East?" Eris asked in response.

"Rhys served three tours in Afganistan," Cassian replied cooly. "His military record is unimpeachable."

"Does Starborn support widening the war?" Eris asked again.

This time, Cassian said nothing.

Eris looked smug. "That's what I thought." He stood up, put on his immaculate Italian wool jacket, and dropped a $20 bill on the table. "I'll call you later," Eris winked at Nesta and walked out the door.

---

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